warfare (dwt x f!reader)

LVII

schlatt was drunk again. he had brought you over to the white house to discuss something that he had planned, but he got carried away with his drinks. instead of being a stupid, i-can-and-i-will-jump-off-the-roof drunk, he was a pissed off, let-me-beat-you drunk. you were hiding under a table after getting a few good bruises on your body. you guessed you were hiding for half an hour or so, but it had been longer because you had dozed off for a bit.

after you and dream had left pogtopia, you had gotten to work making manberg look nicer. thats when schlatt had called you over to talk.

"y/n? where are you? you know i didn't mean anything i said. you're just being sensitive." schlatt was still stumbling on his words as he called out to you. he was still intoxicated, but not enough to be out-right drunk. was it morning? you couldn't tell because all the curtains had been drawn. you reached up with a shaky hand to inspect your face. the bruise that schlatt had given you before was gone, but now there was a mark over your eye that you could feel and some bruises on your sides and limbs from being kicked and shoved. you winced. dream would be obsessing over you and your condition when you returner home.

you dragged yourself out from underneath the desk and scampered to open a window to crawl out of. your legs shook as you stood from either tiredness, pain, or stiffness. maybe even hunger. maybe even all. under a table with you knees brought up to your chest, unmoving for hours, was not a nice place to nap.

you feel onto the grassy ground as you fell out of the window in an attempt to be quiet. the sun was rising, making the grass dewy and cold. it was very early in the morning. the crack of dawn. you quickly scrambled to your feet and closed the window. this was not going to be a fun walk home.

you sat down on the couch once you got home, hugging yourself.

wilbur's idea of disposing of manberg seemed very appealing right now. everyone's opinions of your actions wouldn't matter. wilbur and tommy didn't care for you anymore. techno was against qthe government and dream was against schlatt.

:-:-:

"why the hell are you sleeping down here?" someone woke you. it was sapnap. you haven't spoken to him since you escaped the first time you were here.

"didn't want to make the journey upstairs." you saw sapnap cringe when he caught a glance of you, but he tried to play it off smoothly and not directly point it out. "so..uh, you feeling alright?" you pulled yourself up and off the couch from where you were comfortably slouched down. "cover for me. if dream sees me he'll go feral." you asked of him. you were hungry, starving even, but you had more important things to do. you had to see if if drunk schlatt had gotten to tubbo.

you didn't wait for an answer from sapnap when you left. it was still the morning, and it seemed that you had only gotten a couple hours of good sleep.

you wondered how tubbo lived in there when the broken down van came into view. drafts could get in easily, a mob could break down an already thin, cracked wall. but you weren't going to criticize him. (damn shawty you live like this❓). you let yourself in after you knocked on the door that was falling off its hinges. fixing the camaravan might be something you could do in the future if you and wilbur decide to not blow up manberg.

"tubbo?" you whispered. you quickly fell silent as you heard the soft, rhythmic breathing of someone sleeping.

feeling too miserable to stand awkwardly any longer, you sat on the ground and leaned against one of the rare walls that hadn't been ruined. you let your mind wander. some fun memories you had of your time in l'manberg resurfaced.

you, tommy, and tubbo making potions.

making the floating POG2020 sign.

sparring with fundy.

when you first met wilbur.

soon, manberg will be nothing more than history when your done with it.

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718 words