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catsandgoodbooks · 5 months

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So. Punz and George. They're both very much defined by their relationships with Dream, probably more than anyone else on the server. It's hard to talk about Punz without bringing up Dream, and it's hard to talk about George without referencing him either. They have lives, of course, but Dream is always at the forefront of their minds. Punz spent a whole year of their life just waiting for Dream's escape; George dreams away the days even after the jailbreak in a fantasy world of his imagination where everything is perfect and he can be with Dream.

But they don't really have a relationship. They don't talk, especially not about Dream, because that would show that they cared, and George is trying to deny that to himself after the dethronement and Punz cannot allow anyone to consider even for a moment that they are on Dream's side or it was all for nothing. So the relationship they do have, weak and distant as it is, is based on bitterness and perceived betrayals and envy.

George doesn't really think about Punz much. If he did, he'd had to think about Dream, and not his Dream, not the Dream that exists only in his dreams now, but the actual, real Dream. The Dream who dethroned him without a second glance. The Dream he abandoned. The Dream locked away in an obsidian prison, rotting away as George sleeps. And George doesn't want to think about Punz. Not when it pulls him out of his dreams and makes him think about Dream.

When he does think about Punz, though, he's not exactly a fan of them. They betrayed Dream; undeniably, inexcusably, they did. They had his trust, and they threw it away for a little extra bit of money. George would never do something like that. Dream left first, after all. Dethroned George first and told him he didn't care what happened to him. Dream never did that to Punz.

And that's important. Dream never turned against Punz; they were the one who chose to betray him. Dream never quite trusted George the same way he did with Punz, and, in the period leading up to the dethronement, he let George in on less and less of his plans, grew closer and closer to his mercenary. George told himself it was because Dream wanted to keep him safe. After the dethronement, he accepted the fact that Dream just didn't care about him anymore, and that it had been a sign of that.

George tells himself that if he had been in the situation as Punz, if Dream trusted him, he would of never done what they did.

Punz...doesn't have a great opinion of George, to tell the truth. They might of pretended to betray Dream, but George (and Sapnap, and everyone who was there and just watched it happen) is the one who actually did. George left. He left and didn't come back, didn't even show up for the arrest/execution (because that's what it really was, an execution, no use dancing around it). He didn't even go visit Dream in Pandora's Vault, even when he had every chance to, even when he didn't have a plan dictating that he absolutely could not do that. Not like Punz did.

Unreliable. Untrustworthy. Uncaring. Those are the nicest words for what George is, at least to Punz. Dream died, twice, and George was nowhere to be found. Just because Dream had been trying to keep him safe. To make sure people didn't try to target George to hurt Dream. And George just left, like that was an option in this game they were all playing, that none of them save Wilbur had chosen to play, like you could just throw up your hands and say "okay, that's it, I'm done" and leave with immunity, taking everything you've done with you. That wasn't how the world worked. And it didn't matter if George understood that or not, because it still hurt Dream, and that was what was important. Because what George did was a betrayal, and because they were already familiar enough with that to know how bitter it tasted. Because Punz had to constantly pretend and reap what they had sown and deal with this betrayal they had committed - not the one they were infamous for but the one in their heart and their brain and the way people looked at them and laughed with them and the way they had agreed to the plan and let Dream die and the sneaking suspicion they had, growing louder every day, that something had gone wrong and that they had to do something about it but that too would be a betrayal - but George didn't, just because he had been there earlier and knew some people longer. Because people trusted him more and he didn't have to prove how reliable he was and how much he hated Dream and all that.

And because George had Dream's love in a way Punz never could. Dream loved too freely, that much was true, but he flinches at every motion Punz that was a little too fast, a little too sudden, and makes sure to call everything a business arrangement, makes sure they're mercenary and client, makes sure to suppress any little trace of attachment that could get either of them hurt. And, even now, even after George has gone and left, Dream still loves George; Punz isn't too blind to reality to miss it. And they had kinder days together, back before everything went wrong; there were no kinder days for Punz, and there never had been.

Despite everything, they're two sides of the same coin: wishing for something that is no longer reachable, no longer possible, because things have changed and because people have changed. Because Dream has changed, partially due to the decisions they made, and there isn't anything they can do to go back to how it was. Not truly.

And neither of them really care about anything or anyone else. They're not here to fight for ideals or morals, they just want to keep the people they love safe and away from the people who would want to hurt them. They are willing to kill for it, but, because of who Dream is, and because that would put them in danger, they can't. They're not allowed to, explicitly in Punz's case, implicitly by Dream pushing George away. Because Dream wants to keep the people he cares about safe, and that can't happen if it looks like he cares about them or vice versa.

(It's only okay if Dream's the one getting hurt, after all)

#punz was raised in the middle of a warzone and became a mercenary in order to survive and get the hell out of #there #back on my bullshit #yes yes i will talk about sapnap (in conjunction with punz) someday #right now it's george time #ranty rant rant #sorry if i got stuff wrong i am so tired right now and finals are coming up #also just me inserting my headcanon #just cause #dsmp #c!george #c!punz #c!dream #dnf #drunz #who would have guessed it #my writing #long post

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avvail-whumps · 1 year

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‘guns for hire’ — house rules #9

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content warnings: captivity, intimate whumper, non-con touching (not sexual), brief mention of vomiting

There was no denying the room was an upgrade to his dwelling in the basement.

Although there was scarce decoration and the cupboards weren’t filled out with any clothes, it was possibly the most welcoming place he’d ever seemed to set foot in. His crutches clacked against the floorboards as he hobbled inside, eyes darting around nervously.

He could sense Roy lingering behind him, watching him, and it made it very difficult to swallow down the sickening weight of fear in his stomach; obliterating the very ones he knew the mercenary was waiting to hear from him.

“Th...Thank you,” he breathed, clenching the crutches between his fingers weakly. Leo thought just the idea of expressing gratitude was preposterous, being a captive here and all, but what else was he supposed to do?

He didn’t want Roy to hurt him again.

The mercenary tilted his head, smile drawn taut across his lips.

“It’s all yours, lion,” he drawled, taking a moment to let his own eyes drift around the room, taking the plainess in. Leo didn’t seem to mind, but the mercenary looked a little bothered by the lack of colour. “This was just a guest room for anybody who showed up unannounced. But not anymore; not if you behave.”

Leo swallowed. Even though he was free from that wretched basement, threats like needles hung over him.

He swallowed, his throat inexplicably dry. He had to keep reminding himself to breathe, despite each drag of acidic air making his throat burn like fire. The secretary tried to bite back a wince as he shifted on his ankle, hobbling on his crutches.

Roy finally let his attention fall back to him. “Dinner is at five, only cause I’m starved. That’s in a couple hours. You can use anything from the cupboards and fridge, lion. Anything you want. You don’t need to ask.”

He stepped further into the room, and Leo anxiously clenched his jaw, shuffling away. Boots thumped towards the window, and Roy twisted the lock, hoisting it upwards. A light breeze wafted into the room, and Leo almost melted when it tickled his face.

Fresh air.

He would have never anticipated how the feeling of fresh air would make him feel.

“I think you’re smart enough to understand that there are going to be a few rules to this arrangement, lion,” the mercenary hummed, and Leo tried to ignore the subtle hardness to his voice. He had his hands on the window ledge, leaning against it, gazing off into the fields below.

Leo could only catch a glimpse, but from the looks of things, they weren’t surrounded by civilization.

He could just catch the top of a mirage of trees, something of the start of a forest, and his stomach turned sour at the realisation that escape would not come so easily. He shifted nervously.

Roy sighed, taking in the air and the sunny skies. “One, you cook. This you already know, but I’ll reiterate. You make meals for yourself, me, and anyone else that might come along, without question. Like I said, everything is yours to use, and if you need ingredients, you ask. You better pray you’re a better cook than me.”

The mercenary threw a glance over his shoulder that bordered on humourous, but Leo didn’t find it very funny. He straightened upwards, keeping the window open and exposing the room to a wave of pleasant air.

“Two, you’re allowed to do what you want. You can go outside if you really want, use the gym, sleep the day away, knock yourself out. I don’t really care. But know this, lion…”

The man began to approach him, and Leo tried to steady the pounding of his heart in his chest, throat bobbing as he swallowed. Roy stopped in front of him, and the secretary flinched violently when a hand cupped his cheek gently, tilting his head to meet those piercing eyes.

“Trying to escape will only result in you getting hurt,” he murmured in warning, his other hand creeping up to tuck a strand of hair behind ear. “You’re free to explore, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you breaking locks and dashing off in the middle of the night, otherwise I’m going to have to punish you. You don’t want that, do you, lion?”

Leo desperately shook his head, blinking rapidly when he realised his eyes were burning with tears.

Roy huffed under his breath. “Three, use your words when I ask you a question.”

“Yes,” he breathed without a second thought, doing everything in his power not to rip away from his touch. “Yes.”

The mercenary smiled. “Good.”

His hand crept to his wrist, cradling it as his thumb slid under the jacket, making Leo flinch as it rubbed at the sensitive scars there.

“Last one,” he hummed, tilting his head as he admired his initial carved into his smooth skin. His voice dropped down to a dangerous whisper, filling Leo’s mind endlessly. “Never go into my room.”

He leaned back, an effortless smile on his face, as if the words hadn’t slipped from his lips at all. Leo stared at him fearfully, and only released a breath when his hand moved away from his face, heading smoothly towards the door. The secretary’s eyes drilled holes in the ground, having lost any strength to even keep his head up.

“Remember, dinner at five,” Roy sang with a brief chuckle, gripping the edge of the door and tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Rest, have a bath, start cooking, whatever you want. Bathroom is down the end of this hall.”

Leo’s lip trembled, but he managed a jerky nod, frozen in his very spot. The mercenary observed him for a moment, eyes dancing with hidden amusement.

“You can keep the jacket,” he drawled, smirking subtly. “It’s cute.”

When a resounding click echoed through the room, indicating the door had finally been closed, Leo’s body was overtaken by the strongest wave of weakness, dizziness slamming into him at all angles. He hobbled towards the bed, collapsing on top of it, letting the crutches go slack around his wrists and his sink into the sheets.

Leo felt like crying.

He felt like letting the tears fall, burying his face into the pillow and allowing it to swallow him whole, just so he didn’t have to be in this hell anymore.

Begrudgingly, he sat up, uncaring about his dishevelled hair.

A bath sounded good. It sounded really good.

. . .

Perhaps Leo hadn’t been able to relax as well as he would’ve liked, with the impending sense of dinner looming over him, but scrubbing all the dirt and grime out his hair and off his skin was an experience that made up for it.

He had been careful with his ankle, and spent all of the time soaping up a flannel and scrubbing it furiously in every little crevice that he could, as well as lathering up thick wads of shampoo in his hair and thoroughly washing it out. He smelled faintly of vanilla and raspberry when he finally wrapped a clean towel around himself, securing it around his waist before leaning his weight on the crutches.

Roy had rapped his knuckles against the door earlier and informed Leo he’d left a set of his spare clothes outside, which he was more than grateful to see when he anxiously poked his head out, locking the door once more to dry himself off and change.

The clothes were a little too big for him, considering his poor diet and already smaller figure, and he had to roll the sweatpants a couple times so they didn’t slide down his waist. Leo didn’t mind, because they didn’t smell like Roy, and they hadn’t seemed to have been worn for a very long time.

He was okay with that.

Slipping on a pair of socks, Leo made sure his hair was dried, the blond locks looking brighter than they ever had done before, before finding the courage to step out of the bathroom.

He took in his surroundings as he carefully worked his way down the stairs, eyes darting past every corner before he went, and flinching at any little creak of the floorboards. He navigated the huge house for a few moments, before he finally wandered into the kitchen, accompanied by the dining room.

He let out a relieved sigh at the absence of Roy, and he uncertainly made his way towards the cupboards and counters.

It felt like he was doing something very wrong, rummaging through another person’s cupboards and fridges like this, but he kept telling himself that he’d been given permission and it was alright.

Leo bristled at his own thoughts.

Permission. He hated that his mind had instantly fallen to Roy’s feet; it didn’t matter because this man was a criminal, and rooting through his cupboards wasn’t all that Leo wanted to do if he could. He had access to everything he needed in here; most notably the knives.

Why would the mercenary trust his captor free reign in draws that contained enough knives to kill him six times over? Did Roy think he couldn’t do it, that he would stop him before he could? Leo shuddered to think how out of his element he was like this.

The man was a mercenary, and there wasn’t much he could do against him. He had tried using the element of surprise once before, but Roy had reflexes he could hardly even believe, and there was no doubt if it came down to attacking for his life, he would easily lose.

No, Leo needed to rely on other things. As long as he played by the rules, then he could avoid getting hurt and angering the mercenary anymore. If he was obedient enough and allowed his ankle to heal enough, then he could take the time to carefully plot a way out of here. If sneaking away in the middle of the night or finding a way to call for help was the only way, then he would have to accept the waiting game.

Leo didn’t know if he was strong enough to wait, but he was going to have to try.

Releasing a shuddering breath, the secretary tried to keep his hands from shaking.

Maybe a curry would appease Roy.

It took much longer to find and assort the equipment and ingredients than he would’ve liked, but he slipped into his habits quickly enough and tried to focus on the chicken breast in front of him, cutting it into smaller pieces as he kept an eye on the boiling rice on the stove.

It proved a little difficult to multitask as smoothly while he was restrained to his crutches, but after plating two dishes of curry by the time it was five o’clock, Leo thought he hadn’t done a bad job. The heat from the stove has flushed his cheeks and made him feel a little weary, and he had to sit down at the table after he’d swayed uncomfortably on his bad ankle a few times.

“That smells nice.”

Leo bit his lip nervously at the sound of his voice, glancing aside to see him drawing a chair and plopping down into it. He didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on him for a good few seconds, before picking up the fork and stabbing it into the curry. Slowly, Leo did the same, and although his bowl was a significantly smaller portion, he couldn’t ignore the way the smell was making his stomach churn.

Roy hummed, chewing on the mouthful with amusement.

“I knew it was worth keeping you alive,” the man chuckled under his breath, before his folk clacked against the bowl, gathering up more food.

Leo couldn’t have more than a few mouthfuls before he was hobbling to the bathroom on the first floor and retching violently into the toilet.

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