Hermitcraft Oneshots

No Escape - Grian (5 + 1/angst)

3274 words. Ik the 5 times and 1 thing isn't big on wattpad (have only seen it on ao3) but whatever, I wrote this. I'm writing a lot of Grian lately... sorry not sorry.

So uh, yeah. 5 times Grian gets ptsd from his time with Sam and no one notices, and one time they do. It has some season six, some seven and some eight.

1

Grian's eyes tore apart suddenly and he grabbed his duvet, pulling it in on himself jerkily and holding it tight enough to make some of the stitching stretch beneath his blunt nails. He took a moment to realise his surroundings, and after he had he realised how much his heavy breaths pierced the peaceful night.

They were uneven, rushed and weren't doing their job of taking in oxygen, but he couldn't seem to slow them down for at least three minutes.

He glanced around, darkness coating the wooden planks of the shipwreck. He could hear the ocean surrounding his humble starter base, pressing forcefully against the glass casing and drowning out any noise. This was Hermitcraft, the blond reminded himself, he was safe here. Or at least, safe from physical harm. He would never be safe from the nightmares.

The nightmares.

Grian sighed as it replayed in his head at the thought. He'd dreamt of when he was in high school, when he'd visited Sam's dorm room. When Yuki was also there and she gave him the idea he'd told someone what had happened when taking Taurtis to hospital on Halloween.

"Is that true, Gree-on?" The bunny eared man asked after hearing what his girlfriend had to say. He took a step towards Grian, giving him no route to escape as he was in the corner of the room.

"No no no, I swear I never-" he stuttered, stepping back and finding himself against the wall.

"Are you questioning Yuki?! Are you saying she's lying?!" Sam yelled, protective over the other psychopath as usual.

"No! Please, please, I never said anything," he begged, although it was no use as Sam punched him and continued to yell while he continued to plead helplessly.

In his trance of memory, Grian hadn't noticed the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He pulled his legs to his chest and cried alone in the dark.

2

"I'm bored." Iskall groaned, elongating his words and putting his head back over the armrest of his chair.

"We all are." Mumbo replied, looking up at him from where he sat on the ground, next to the button. The Architechs had been having a Sahara meeting when a thunderstorm broke out, shattering the peaceful day. Lightning had been flashing every few seconds and the rain was so heavy it sounded like hail. They'd decided to wait it out, and before they knew it half an hour had turned into three.

"Can't we do something?" Grian asked in the same tone as Iskall's. He was cross legged in his wooden throne, elbows on his knees and chin on his hands.

"How about a game?" Iskall suggested.

"We already played I spy, truth or dare, would you rather, makeshift snap and raced each other through the buildings, what else can we play?" Mumbo said.

"Im-ag-in-a-tion," Iskall replied, exaggerating each syllable.

"What do you mean?" Mumbo asked.

"I mean we can imagine a game," the Swedish hermit elaborated, "like a role play, you can be-"

"No." Grian interrupted firmly. They glanced at him, confused. "I- I mean, I don't like those kind of games." Sam had set one up one summer, creating an entire server for it. It had started out fun but had become serious very quickly, going to extreme lengths. Grian had made it clear he wasn't enjoying it, but Sam had simply told him to go with it and be grateful for him putting it all together. It had been called Kingdom of- no, he didn't want to think about it.