context: dream, sapnap, george, bad live together
tw: mentions of blood, punching
tw: death
tw: swearing
tw: stabbing
ps this oneshot has a lot of fighting and violence! this oneshot also is quite gory.
theres detailed stabbing, punching, fighting, so please be wary!
DREAMS PERSPECTIVE:
"Hah! Got you," I say with a grin, having Sapnap pinned to the ground after we playfully fought for a few minutes. His stomach's on the ground, and I'm sitting on his back.
"Think you're so tough? Punch me as hard as you can!" Sapnap exclaims with a laugh, all cocky.
"Oh yeah?" I grin.
"DREAM, NONONO-" Bad says, looking at us.
"Don't- don't do that," George laughs nervously.
"Do it, you won't!" Sapnap yells.
"You asked for it!" I exclaim, punching him in the head. His head gets smashed into the ground.
"DREAM!" George screams.
There's a crack, followed by silence.
"Why would you do that?!" Bad yells at me.
I ignore him, and wait for Sapnap to move.
"...Sapnap?" I say, quietly.
I find my breathing quicken, "fuck, fuck, fuck- Sapnap, wake up, this isn't funny."
Then, slowly, a puddle of blood grows right where his face is.
"Oh my God..." George starts.
"George, call 911!" Bad exclaims.
"NO- I mean, no, don't," I order. George puts his phone down, slowly.
I turn him over.
He's dead.
There's blood spilling from his scalp, his head, his mouth and his nose.
I pull my hands up to my face and look at them. Soaked in his blood, dripping.
"You... you killed him..." Bad stutters.
"No, no, he's not... dead," I lie. "Just... passed out, right?"
George jumps over the couch whilst Bad slowly walks over.
George slides to his knees, feels for a pulse.
"Oh my God- you just killed... your best friend," George stammers.
My concerned expression switches to anger in s matter of seconds.
"Okay. Look. This situation stays in this house." I stand up. All three of us gather around the body.
Theres a bit of silence, and in the corner of my eye, I notice Bad reach down into his pocket.
I turn to him, quickly, and grab his phone with one hand. I hold his jaw with my other hand.
"If anyone else hears about this, you'll end up like him, you got that?!"
Bad, on the verge of tears, nods.
I let go. He rubs his jaw and neck, coughing a bit.
George says, "I mean... he did ask for you to punch him, right?"
Bad gives in and says, "yeah. He asked you to."
"He had it coming. Now, we're gonna hide the body. We're gonna drive to Tampa, dig a hole, dump his body in there. Then we're gonna dig it up half way, then put an animal carcass there. We'll find one on the road," I instruct.
"Right! Then, if the police even suspect that his body was taken out there, and the dog's sniff it out, all they'll find is the animal. It's a nearly flawless plan," George agrees.
"The police aren't gonna find out," I snark. "No one else saw this go down."
"Guys, I-" Bad starts.
"Not a word. Not. A. Word."
-- ARRIVING AT TAMPA --
"Okay. We'll drive off road for thirty minutes," I say, steering the car off onto gravel and sand.
I press my foot down on the pedals, driving off into no where.
Once we've been driving for at least twenty minutes, I put the car into park.
George and Bad get out of the car.
"Shit, it's hot," George mutters.
"It's Tampa, of course it's hot," I say. I open the trunk to two body bags. One for the body, one for the animal.
George and I pull the body bag for Sapnap out whilst Bad starts digging a hole.
After ten minutes, the hole's pretty deep.
"Alright. Here we go..." I mumble.
I drop Sapnap's body into the hole.
"So morbid..." Bad says under his breath.
"It's a fucking dead body. You think it's gonna be all cute and polite?" I snark.
Bad stays silent. He starts putting the dirt, gravel and sand back into the hole until half way.
This time, George opens the body bag for the animal and shuffles the small, dead raccoon out.
Bad finishes digging it back up and puts the shovel in the back, then we start the drive back to Orlando.
-- THE NEXT NIGHT --
The blood on the living room floor has finally been cleaned off. All three of us head to the kitchen. George and I sit on the kitchen stools whilst Bad stands across the counter from us.
"How do we tell our fans?" Bad asks.
"A Twitlonger," I say instantly.
"What's his new death?" George asks.
"Make something up. Say he had a rare disease and died because of it. There. Am I gonna have to come up with everything?" I scoff, standing up.
"Well, you are the one that killed him!" Bad exclaims.
I turn my head, glaring at him.
"Keep that tone up and I'll fucking murder you the same way I did to him."
"You couldn't," Bad says.
"Don't test me, Bad. I'll ram your head into a concrete sidewalk if I have to. So watch your mouth, you got that?"
"Guys! Calm down," George says.
I turn around, headed for my room, but then Bad says something.
"I can call the cops on you."
I pause.
"Yeah. Not so tough now," Bad continues.
I turn around, and look at him. He walks up to me, until we're face to face, eye level.
"Guys-" George starts.
"I'll kill you right now if you say one more word. I've killed before and I'll do it again."
"Try me."
I grin, feeling my fist clench. I ram my fist right into his face. I can feel the bone in his nose completely shift and break as he stumbles backwards, tripping.
George doesn't even try to stop me.
Bad props himself up on his elbows, laying on the floor as he wipes the blood spilling out of his nose and mouth.
I kick him right in the guts, and his coughing lingers with blood.
I kneel down, and push him onto his stomach. Just like Sapnap, I sit on his back, his arms pinned down. He can't do anything
"Hmm, why does this look familiar?" I ask sarcastically, leaning close to his ear.
"Please, Dream, don't kill me," he whines.
"George. Pass me a knife and a table cloth."
"A-are you sure?" George chokes out.
"Now," I demand.
George passes me a knife, carefully. He then passes me a table cloth.
I hold the knife in my mouth, biting down on the handle.
I wrap the table cloth around his mouth, just so he can't scream.
I grab the knife from my mouth.
"Maybe this'll teach you," I whisper, nice and close to his ear, so only he can hear it.
I twirl the knife in between my fingers, a smirk on my face. George steps away.
I plunge the knife into his back. I pull it out, then stab him 6 times. Blood spits everywhere.
I wipe blood off my face with my forearm. A red puddle forms around him, the same red liquid splattered everywhere around me and on me.
I find myself breathing heavily.
I drop the knife, sliding it to the side.
"Don't you dare tell anyone about this," I say, looking at George.
I get up, off the body.
"Another drive to Tampa...?" George asks, quietly.
"Get the shovel."