#Trident Trouble

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

Ok but, but—if Telemachus mistakenly believes his dad and Poseidon to be friends and Odysseus and Poseidon are forced to hang out because of him, would the lines between pretend and not pretend blur after several years? Like would they eventually start having at least a little fun with each other and then later be absolutely horrified by that (especially Poseidon, bc what is this, his hatred is no longer as all consuming as it used to be?? Who authorized that??)

And eventually Odysseus just goes "Yk that offer to learn forgiveness still stands" while wearing the most shit-eating grin ever (Penelope predicted this development several years ago)

yeah!!! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ i would like to think that they do eventually end up having a real friendship rather than just a fake one

and yes of course penelope could see it coming a mile off!

they both would be internally like "oh gods why?!" at first.

but then they both realise that maybe just maybe they actually enjoy each others company and their bickering turns into banter & laughter.

telemachus just now thinks their best friends rather than just friends shdjhdfjds

penelope is happy that after all the trauma those two caused each other, they can finally put it behind them. she loves seeing her husband actually laugh and enjoy himself. also she definitely says i told you so, many times to odysseus face about her earlier predictions.

as for odysseus & athena's friendship. even after their past breakup falling out, i like to think that odysseus is initially really worried about admitting he regards poseidon as an actual friend now. he's worried that even though she has changed, that maybe befriending her uncle (the god she has had a long rivalry with) is a step too far again.

to his surprise though, she's actually happy for odysseus and proud that he was able to actually befriend the earth-shaker himself. this time she's glad odysseus did not push his emotions aside and opened his heart for friendship & forgiveness.

what odysseus didn't expect though, was that the 'king of ithaca's and god of the seas' friendship' would be a hot topic in olympus itself.

suddenly ithaca's palace has more uninvited visits from other gods and goddess. the mortal king who was instrumental in winning the trojan war, who battled with monsters and gods alike... became friends with the god who caused him to take 10 years to get home?

he had already been talked about amongst the gods during those 10 years, but now they were all even more curious as he has gone from brutally defeating poseidon to becoming friends???

poseidon however was not happy with their interest in ithaca and especially odysseus. that was his (and athena's, but mostly his) mortal friend gods damn it!

(im sorry this ended up being a long reply, my brain wouldn't stop yapping away hhdhdhdh)

(please if you have any futher thoughts, please please please share/add them ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) )

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie isn't allowed to travel alone Anymore

So! Ellie was raised in a Lab by a Genuine Bonefied Supervillain. She was raised to be a Villain as well, so her Moral Conpass is a little skewed.

Sure she *mostly* knows what is right and wrong from Danny's quick lesson before her Adventure around the Country, but she still has trouble separating what is moral and what is not from time to time.

So it's really no surprise that the moment she left Amity Park she somehow ended up being branded a Villain.

Look, it's not her fault she didn't know not to attack the flying guy in Blue Spandex when he approached her! One of Danny's biggest warnings shen she left had been Stranger Danger! She did what any 12 year old girl would have done when approached by a strange Older Man!

Its also not her fault that her powers (being Magic based), managed to affect him! She didn't even use her full power! (She maybe should have kicked him in a different place tho...she hopes he wasn't planning on having kids...)

So she did what her instincts told her to do. She took any money he had on him and ran the hell away!

It wasn't until she was 2 cities over when she saw a newspaper titled, "Little Villain Girl Mugs Superman in Broad Daylight!", that she realized she may have screwed up...

After that, she really had no excuse.

She knew that she probably shouldn't have kept Mugging the Heroes who approached her, but she wasn't a Fenton for nothing! Her Family Motto had always been "Commit to the Bit", and she was gonna stick to it!

So when the Fast Red Guy tried to tie her up, she phased off all his clothes and took off with his money (not the mask, she knew enough not to take that off)

And when the Grumpy Bat Guy tried to corner her with some weird papers he pulled out of his Belt, she just distracted him while her clone picked his pockets and made off with the wheels of his Car. That one made her a pretty penny!

The flying Green Guy was fun, his attacks were just throwing Ghost Candy (pure willpower) at her. He did stop doing do after she nicked his fancy talking Ring however, but it was fun while it lasted

Then she came across a Orange Fish Guy, and he actually seemed nice enough. But she was committing to the Bit, so she took the fancy Trident he had and sold it at a nearby Pawn Shop for some extra cash. He would probably be able to find it, that's why she chose a nearby location.

All in All, her Adventure had been really fun! So she decided to visit Amity Park again to tell Danny all about it!

...

Aquaman walked into the meeting room of the Watchtower, a very frustrated look in his eye.

Barry spoke up first, "Oh! I know that look in your eye! She got to you too didn't she!"

Arthur just glared at Barry for a second before walking over to his Chair, sitting down with a thump. "She is certainly a tricky child."

"What did she take this time?" Clark asked.

"..mttrident..." Arthur grumbled out quickly.

"What was that?" Asked Barry with a twinkle in his eye. He heard it, but he wanted everybody else to know.

"She took my trident, Okay!" Arthur shouted out.

"I feel ya man." Responded Hal, "At least with me she threw it back at me when she realized it wasn't making 'candy' anymore. What did she do with yours?"

"She sold it at a Pawn Shop!" Arthus yelled in frustration, "She managed to steal one of the most Powerful Magical Weapons in the world, the Symbol of the entire Atalantean Royal Bloodline, and she sold it and a Pawn Shop!"

"...how much did she get for it?" Asked Hal.

At this, Aquaman just collapsed to the table and groaned.

...

Alternatively she could have just kept all those things, and gradually built up a collection of all the JLA's most treasured possessions.

She has Supermans Wallet, not very important to him but it was her first mugging

She has Batmans Utility Belt (trackers removed) along with his Tires

She took Flashes Costume Ring (his civilian clothes still stuck inside)

She took Green Lanterns ring as well, but unfortunately it managed to escape after a few days. It was feisty.

And her crowning Jewel is the Trident she took from Aquaman.

(She avoided WW, cause she likes her too much to steal anything from her)

[frost-queen]

The arena // part 5 (Reader!Snow x Finnick Odair)

Tag:@harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @sweetheartlizzie07, @bellarkeselection, @shines-in-the-night, @cantbecreative, @mrsnms, @laylamarie222, @herbal-tea-and-manga

Summary: Finnick has no other choice than to endure the games. Needing to put any thoughts of you aside to survive. Whilst being soothed by your father, you struggle to settle the chaos in your head. With the help of another, you set out to deliver a message. [series]

Eyes adjusted to the illuminating light. Slowly growing wider with his vision becoming clearer. Greeted by a soft breeze against his skin. Panting deeply, he knew in what kind of mindset he needed to be. Forgetting about the past few seconds for it would only cloud his judgement. Head turning from side to side, seeing the other opponents on equal platforms as his.

Trying to define who he knew. Squinting his eyes, he recognized the silhouette from Mags a few platforms away. Not much further away Peeta. A voice came through in the arena. – “Let the 75th hunger games… begin. May the odds be ever in your favour.” – The voice seemed to raise a slight panic within him. A timer projected above the centre piece.

Counting down from 10 to 0. Ten. Nine.  Finnick panted loud, squinting his eyes to calculate all the positions. Seven. Six. Everyone standing too far for him to see clear. Four. Three. His gaze settling on someone in the distance, he exhaled with a weight off his shoulder. One. Bang.

Hands down, he dove into the water. Feeling much in his element. Swimming straight forward. Gaze troubled by the waves of the water. Never giving him a clear vision. Wave after wave washing over him, each time he took a breath. Swimming practically blindly to a surface. A darker shim became more clearer under water.

Going upwards with a loud gasp, he flopped his hand onto the rocky surface. Taking a brief moment to look around. Hoisting himself up. Water splashing off him. Taking little time to hesitate, he started to run. Run with a few extra pounds of his wet bodysuit.

Panting loud with quick breaths. Looking at his side, another tribute running on the rocky lane beside his. Separated by water. Both glancing back and forth at each other. Knowing it was a race against the clock to reach the middle first for supplies and weapons.

Finnick glanced back once more, the other tribute too before her foot knocked her over. Rolling to the ground, nearly falling back into the waters. With a smirk he couldn’t supress, he ran forwards. Reaching the middle, grabbing immediately for the trident. A weapon he was very familiar with. Sneaking around the middle set, he barely flinched when an arrow pointed at his way.

Gently moving his wrist higher for her to see the golden wristband. – “Good thing we’re allies, right.” – he spoke with half a smirk. Katniss kept her weapon on him. – “Where did you get that?” – she questioned in return. – “Where do you think.” – he replied seeing the thought-train in her brain click the gears together. His expression tightened, looking past her.

“Duck.” – warning at her. Katniss dropped down without hesitation. Giving him a clearance to throw his trident at a tribute. The man caught the trident with his chest, falling back with one last groan. Bang. The death bang echoing through the arena.

Finnick walked past Katniss to retrieve his trident. – “Don’t trust one and two.” – he let her know. – “I’ll take this side. You hold them off. I’ll go find Peeta.” – with those final words he took off. Katniss rising from her position. Barely understanding what was going on. What had possibly been planned behind her back.

Yet she drew her bow and flung an arrow at an approach tribute. As a response she dived back into the water. – “Katniss!” – hearing her name, made her turn her head. Finnick appearing from a side. – “Mags found him. He’s over here.” – Letting her know. Katniss took little time to hesitate, following Finnick.

Finnick rushed to Mags first. Seeing her point anxiously at the water. Peeta struggling in the waters with another tribute. Katniss nearing as well, staring hesitantly back at the scenery. Finnick dove into the waters without a second thought. Swimming over to the rescue. Peeta and the tribute went under. Finnick’ head went above water upon hearing the deafening bang.

A body coming to float up. Continuing his swimming, he went towards the floating back in the waters. Having a sense of what Katniss might be thinking. For he thought the same. Not him. Finnick’s swimming stopped when a head emerged from the waters with a loud gasp. Peeta.

Exhaling deep, you struggled against the restraints around your hands. Tying them to the chair’s leaning’s. Knowing it was no use, but still you needed to try. Panic settling in your heart, for you had no information about the arena. Whilst everyone had watched the start off, you were kept in the dark. Not knowing if Finnick was still breathing.

Nothing felt certain. Your father’s lies made you wonder what more he had schemed behind your back. Unaware of his hidden agenda. For you were never meant to marry any of the tributes. It was nothing but a rouse to lure in more praising and watchers. That was why he cared little for who’d you choose. Panic rising more, not knowing whether he had come up with a scheme within the games.

A scheme to get rid of the tributes that got on his nerves. Wasn’t it why he reaped the previous victors once more. To sniff out a rebellion before it could even begin. After Katniss’s stunt with Rue in the 74th hunger games, it had kicked off an uprising in Rue’s district. You knew he couldn’t afford more districts going in uprisings.

Silence got disturbed by the door opening. Blinking panicky when two guards entered. Separating to reveal the bigger man. The president. Coriolanus snow. Your father. Adjusting the cuffs on his sleeve, he approached you. – “My daughter.” – he said reaching out to touch your cheek. The gesture, made you turn your cheek away. Not wanting his touch.

He chuckled briefly, his eyes going down to the restraints around your wrists. – “There is no need for that.” – he spoke. With a gesture of his hand, you were released from your bounds by the guards. Pressing your lips together, you blinked rapidly, feeling the tears come up. – “My sweet daughter.” – Snow spoke bringing sweet words. Leaving a mess in your head.

A part of you wanted his soothing, yet another part was getting aware of it. Wondering how many times he had made you pick up the pieces that he made off you. He came kneeling down, hands resting on yours. You inhaled sharply, trying to turn your face further away from him. Giving him the cold cheek. Your body flinched when his thumb touched your cheek.

Collecting a lost tear. Recollecting your strength, you slowly turned your head back to him. – “You promised.” – whispering out in a soft voice. Hushed tones. Expression slightly settling with distrust in your own father’s words. He brought up a soft smile, brushing some hair aside.

Making you close your eyes, leaning your head just a bit further away. – “I didn’t know you’d care so much.” – he responded. The remaining smile on his lips, made you feel nauseating. Then his expression settled for sympathy. Eyes softening as you didn’t need his sympathy. Lip trembling as he started to brush hair aside with both his hands.

Letting his palms rest against your cheeks. – “Come with me.” – he spoke in a husky voice. – “Back home.” – he added. You let your gaze go upwards to him. To stare him in the eyes. – “And if I refuse?” – answering plainly with little emotion. – “Will you tie me up again?”

He took your hands, helping you up to stand. Tilting your head slightly forwards to leave a delicate kiss on your forehead. Closing your eyes upon his touch, you knew this regret, he would soon forget. Gliding his arm over your shoulder, he guided you out of the cold-hearted room.

Taking you under his wings back to civilisation. Walking the halls back with his hands firmly on your shoulders.  Upon your walk back, you spotted Peeta and Katniss’s mentor looking back at you from behind a corner. Keeping your gaze a bit longer on him upon walking past. Till you drifted your gaze forwards.

Continue to walk the path your father showed. Returning to your quarters. There he left you, closing the door on you. Left alone with yourself once more. Looking around, the hollowness of your own quarters wrapped around you once more.

Unable to stand it for much longer, you took your leave. Surprised that the doors weren’t locked. You wondered he might do it after your little stunt. Free to roam the halls, you ventured back to the meeting rooms. In search of a man. A man who could settle your doubts and fears. One that could give you what you wanted to know. Haymitch.

You found him in one of the rooms, Ready to pour himself a glass. Letting out a relieved breath, you hurried over to him. – “Tell me… tell me…” – you panted out upon approaching him. Haymitch set his glass aside, moving both his hands up to slow you down. – “He’s alive.” – he reassured you. Knowing the question that burned on your lips. Relieved you let out a loud sob, dropping to your knees.

Haymitch catching you by the elbow before fully crashing down. Pulling you back up to your feet. – “Alright Snowy, take it easy.” – he spoke guiding you towards a seat. Settling you down. Haymitch slightly furrowed his brows upon your distress.

Taking a hold of his hand, you kept him in place. – “I swear I didn’t know… I didn’t know it would be pushed a day ahead. I’m sorry… please forgive me…” – tears running down your face. Haymitch came kneeling down to you upon seeing you shake. Realising the genuine in you.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know…” – you kept repeating with guilt, rocking yourself gently back and forth. – “Hey, hey it’s alright Snowy.” – he moved his hand down, patting your hand soothingly. Shaking your head, you weren’t agreeing with him. A loud sob sputtered out in the palm of your hand. Thinking back of Finnick in the tube. Those brief seconds you had the chance to tell him.

To make him believe it had nothing to do with you. That you didn’t want him to hate you. Perhaps he should for what you dragged him through with the marriage proposal and privileges. Knowing they might never be met up with. – “Y/n.” – Haymitch addressed you. Trying to break through your spiralling of emotions.

With shocking breaths, you lifted your gaze up to him. – “He’s going to be alright.” – reassuring you that extra bit. – “So save your tears.” – Haymitch lifted his chest a bit, wiping some tears away. Sniffing loud, you nodded with a trembling lip. Trying to remain in control of your emotions.

Emotions that had been bundled up for a while now. Haymitch got back up to his feet with a soft groan. Ready to turn away when he felt a tug on his hand. Looking back over his shoulder to see your hand on his. – “Can you help me… I want to deliver a message. I’m not sure if father…” – swallowing your next words in as you didn’t wished them to spoken.

Not sure if your father would allow supplies to be send to him in the arena. Haymitch curled up a smile. – “Sure, Snowy.” – pulling you up to him. You followed him to another room. Passing a room that projected the games. Hearing loud screams and shouts deafen the room, made you press your hands against your ears.

Wanting to drown them out. Drown out the pain and suffering. If it wasn’t for Haymitch pulling you away, you might have tumbled into madness. Hearing the bellowing bang moments later. It made you stop. Heart sinking to the bottom of your chest. – “It’s not him.” – Haymitch reassured you, dragging you away.

Repeating his words in your mind, you followed him with a dry mouth. Being shoved into another room, he handed you a piece of paper. – “Be short.” – he made clear, hinting at the little space you had to write. Staring down at the paper, you weren’t sure what to write.

Closing your eyes for a moment before settling on some words. Scribbling them down. Haymitch kept guard at the door. After you were done, you held the paper folded out to him. He accepted it, placing it in a grenade like  container. Putting a crème with it. He then presented the container to you. – “It will reach him… through Katniss.” – he spoke, seeing you furrow your brows with confusion.

“Makes it more unnoticeable.” – he added giving you a pat on the shoulder. You followed Haymitch to a secluded area. Workers standing by platforms. Several boxes with the same containers divided. Haymitch held the container behind his back. Shuffling closer to one of the boxes.

You narrowed your eyes on a box where district 4 was written on it. Making you sigh relieved that Finnick and Mags were receiving some assist. – “Hey! You aren’t supposed to be here!” – one of the workers got up, approaching Haymitch and you with a firm walk. Haymitch suddenly moved his hands up. Making you furrow your brows that he no longer was holding the container.

“I know, I know. The lady just wanted to see the working area.” – he nudged at you with his head. The worker turning his attention at you. It took you a few seconds to accept the bait. – “Oh yes, I always wanted to know how it worked. I mean you are after all the most important part of the games. Without any of you, there wouldn’t be any games.” – you played along, approaching the worker.

The man grinned from ear to ear. – “You are right at that, Miss Snow.” – he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. – “Do you mind if I took a closer look?” – with innocence on your face, you took a hold of the man’s arm. – “Of… of course, Miss Snow. Allow me.” – he gestured with his arm at the panels. Guiding you closer to them.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Haymitch stuck up a thumb with a smirk. The worker walked around the room with you and giving you an explanation to everything. He approached the boxes with containers. – “These have all been checked and are ready to be send out.” – he confessed.

It made you hum soft, looking over your shoulder to Haymitch waiting in the corner. Understanding a bit more to why he brought you here. These containers were already checked so they wouldn’t anymore. Making it a great opportunity to sneak in a secret message without the capital knowing.

You smiled back at him. Haymitch then approached you once more. – “This has been lovely, but I must escort the lady back.” – he said, offering you his arm. You let go of the worker, placing your hand on Haymitch’s arm. Curtsying to the worker as a thank you, you let Haymitch guide you away. Making you wonder when Finnick would get your message. If he ever would.

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[hopelesslydimwitted]

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face i hope you don’t mind that i wrote smth for the hunger games au. the worms got me 😔

idk who the tribute is. hes probably as big or bigger than stanley tho— i like the idea of two bigger boys going toe to toe, one trying to brute force his way thru a fight while the other one (stan) just… dances around him

i also wanted to work in that trident aro mentioned. idk if stan keeps it for more than fishing (i don’t see him killing anyone with it)

tw for violence, this is a hunger games thing

Maybe, just maybe, if Stan stayed really still, the hulking tribute in front of him wouldn’t see him. The other boy wouldn’t notice him, and definitely wouldn’t point that fucking trident at him. He wouldn’t charge at Stan, trident raised, and try to kill him.

They both take a breath, Stan’s pulse steadily thumping in his ears, and the other boy charges.

Fuck.

Stan does what he does best-- evasive maneuvers. He ducks the first jab of the trident, hearing the heavy metal whistle past his ear at a speed that would have definitely impaled him. He quickly dodges around the boy’s other side. He’s light on his feet, boots dancing along the grassy floor as he tries to stay in the tribute’s blind spot. Stan just needs long enough to untangle his net and then--

Stan throws the net high, over the tribute’s head, the knotted rope spreading like the wings of the totem pole. It’s only half-finished, but it should be large enough to tangle this kid up. This boy knows Stan’s strategy-- throw the net, pin them down, and take off-- he should, he’s been caught by Stan’s net twice.

This time, he won’t let himself be trapped and tied down. He manages to swing the trident around fast enough to avoid getting tangled in the net himself. The tribute roars, both with fury and victory, trying to shake the net off the barbed ends. Stan lurches forward, grabbing the tail of the net and yanking.

It’s a deadly tug-of-war for a few moments before Stan finally manages to wrench the trident out of the boy’s hands, blindly hurling it to his left. He only just hears it clatter to the ground as he turns right and bolts. He’s about a hundred yards from the lake. He knows this tribute can’t swim-- if Stan can get close enough to dive in, he should be able to--

Something crashes into his legs, sending Stan face-first into the damp dirt of the beach. The breath is knocked from his lungs.

The tribute crawls the rest of the way up his torso. He grabs Stan by the arm and flips him around, pinning him. Stan kicks, heart frantic between his ribs.

This is bad, get up get up get up

A fist lands across his jaw before he can swing. It bursts with pain, but it’s not enough to knock him silly. The tribute settles on his hips, raising his fist for another blow-- Stan gets his feet on solid ground and bucks, managing to knock the boy off of him. Stan rolls, scrambling away as fast as he can. He kicks at the hand that finds his ankle and manages to drive his heel into the boy’s nose.

Stan rises to his feet. He’s accidentally put the tribute between him and the lake, and the other boy is standing before Stan can skirt around him.

His eyes are wild, locked on Stan with deadly intent.

Stan decides he’d rather fight here than up closer to the tree line-- if they get close enough to where he threw the trident, he’ll be in trouble.

The tribute approaches with a wide swing. It’s one of the worst hooks Stan’s ever seen, and he dodges it with ease. The boy’s left himself open, too, and Stan lands a quick jab to his abdomen. It goes like this for a while-- the boy throwing wild, desperate punches that reek of poor training. Stan dancing around him, trying to get to his other side. The tribute must know this-- he refuses to let Stan get even a foot closer to the lake.

Stan’s legs are starting to burn, fists aching from the fighting. It’s been too long with too little food-- he needs to get away.

“C’mon, man!” he finds himself shouting. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, if anything.

Then, he sees an opening. The boy lurches and steps wrong, his ankle twisting out from underneath him. He falls, and Stan goes to circle him.

Stan’s not expecting the hands that clamp down on his leg, sending Stan crashing to the ground.

“Get off!” he shouts, kicking wildly behind him. He’s yanked backwards towards the other boy.

They wrestle, hands bruising and nails scratching each other as they fight. Stan’s lungs are on fire. Fighting for your life is exhausting, and he can’t do this much longer.

Why won’t this bastard let me run?

When Stan finds himself on top, one of the boy’s arms crushed under his knee, Stan takes the opportunity. Not to run-- he knows how that will go-- but to rain down punches. His knuckles are torn up and bloody as they batter the tribute’s face. Stan can feel bone crack under his fists.

“Let-- me-- go!” he’s yelling. He doesn’t know he is.

The tribute’s grip on his arm loosens, staggering as his head lolls on the ground. Stan’s fist falters for a moment, and he can’t feel his body. The boy groans, dazed and half-dead.

I-- Stan’s whole body freezes. He has to force himself to stop, to not give in to the arena-fueled adrenaline that begs him to kill this boy. This child.

His feet slip once as he rises. He accidentally steps on the boy’s arm, and he hears an answering cry.

He’s not dead, Stan thinks. He’s not sure if he’s grateful or not.

He runs.

He runs to where dirt turns to sand, less than 20 yards from the shoreline. He’ll have to swim above water; he doesn’t have enough breath to dive--

Pain lights up the side of his thigh.

For the third time, his knees hit the dirt. Hot blood starts to stain his pants.

“Get--” he hears behind him. “Get back here!”

Stan didn’t realize this tribute had more than one weapon on him. He scrambles forwards, ignoring the shooting heat from the cut. He feels his throat tighten with desperation-- he was so close to escaping.

The small knife finds purchase in his calf. Stan screams and kicks back. The tribute is already on him, crushing him against the earth. The knife in his hand is wavering, even if the look in his swollen eyes is determined.

Stan tries to punch his jaw, his face, his neck, anything, but the boy is too high above him. He claws, grabs, bites, kicks instead, trying to worm his way out again. He wonders if he’s sobbing yet.

When the knife comes down, it’s slow and messy. The tribute sways. Stan registers it, somewhere in the back of his mind. He can’t think about it, not yet-- not when his body is still fighting for his life.

They roll. The boy goes too easily. He’s reacting too slowly, and the words coming out of his mouth are wet and slurred.

“Jus’ die already,” he spits. He’s missing a tooth from where Stan’s knuckles knocked it loose.

The tribute lands on his back, head knocking hard against the ground. Even that is enough to daze him again, his eyes losing focus. Stan can’t think about it. He can’t think about how weak this boy already is, how he’s still so intent on killing Stan, how this boy shouldn’t even be here.

He can’t think.

He strikes instead. The first punch lands solidly against the tribute’s cheek. The knife is dropped from his slackened hand.

Stan takes a shaky breath in.

The second punch connects with his temple. Stan tries to ignore the way it buckles under his fist.

Why couldn’t he let Stan run away?

The third bursts the boy’s eye. There’s more than just blood flowing from the wound.

He wants to leave.

The fourth dislocates the tribute’s jaw. It hangs, bouncing with each following strike.

He wants to go home.

The fifth. The sixth. The tribute is still making sounds, low moans and wet sobs from deep in his chest.

He wants Ford.

Seven. Eight. Stan’s knuckles are numb. His whole being is numb. He can’t feel the tears on his face.

Stan doesn’t know he’s speaking. He can’t hear how rough his voice is or feel the rumble of his vocal cords. He can’t hear the choked pleading coming from his lips. The cameras pick up every “I’m sorry-- I’m so sorry” that he weeps.

Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

The tribute stops moving. Stops making noise.

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

Stan can’t stop crying, can’t stop apologizing. Who is he apologizing to? The television personalities will argue this for days to come.

Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.

There’s a cannon above him. It’s the only thing that makes Stan stop. The boom echoes in his ears, halting his blood-soaked fist midair. He slowly comes back to his senses.

The boy beneath him is dead, unrecognizable.

They finally did it.

Stan quickly takes the knife-- it’s no bigger than a pocket knife, really-- and pockets it. Hands fly across the corpse’s body, taking whatever they can find.

He only spares a brief look around the treeline. He sees no bodies, hears no voices, hears no cracking of branches. His eyes land on the trident, and it’s in his hands before he can think. He refuses to look at the boy on his way back to the water.

His goal is to swim. To dive in and swim away.

His actions are to kneel. To plunge his hands into the water. To scrub the blood away with heaving breaths.

They made me kill someone.

He refuses to cry. His mind slots back into place. His face is still numb-- thinks he might say something, a smart quip or dumb joke that falls in line with his persona.

He doesn’t care if he manages or not. The capital will have to forgive him for putting on bad television.

He scrubs his palms.

He scrubs his knuckles.

He scrubs his fingers.

He scrubs under his nails.

He can’t reach the blood under his skin. The poison that slips into his veins. He doesn’t want to feel this way again.

He knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He will feel this way again. When he kills someone else.

He wants to go home.

[j-k-writes]

The Lion of the Trident

Summary - After Rhaegar's defeat on The Trident, Robert and Ned must deal with the Prince's surviving forces, including Y/N Lannister.

Warnings - age gaps (Y/N is about 16/17 while Ned and Robert are 19/20), canon character death, general GOT warnings, ableist language (toward Tyrion), mentions of violence, sexual content

Y/N was awoken to the feel of frigid water pouring down on him. 

He shot up, gasping and shivering. He pushed himself further into the makeshift outdoor prison cell, covering himself further in mud. He shook his hair out as the chilled water settled deep into his bones, glaring up at the men responsible. 

“I know I stink, but that’s not quite the bath I had in mind.” Y/N’s words didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped with the shivers racking him visible to the men standing over him. 

“King Robert wishes to speak with you.” 

Y/N laughed, “King? I wasn’t aware Aerys had died?” 

The two men didn’t grant the Lannister heir with a response, grabbing his arms and dragging him to his feet. He attempted to jerk his arms free from the men’s grasp, but the days spent chained to a pole with little food and water had weakened him enough that the two men had no trouble dragging him to Robert’s tent. 

Realizing he had no choice but to let this farce take place, Y/N steeled himself holding his head high as they walked through the camp. He smiled at the jeers thrown his way, finding himself laughing at quite a few. The days of abuse, physical and verbal, he’d suffered at the hands of the usurpers were nothing compared to the years living in his father’s tight grasp. Perhaps if they set Lord Tywin in front of the young knight he’d have been more forthcoming with his information. 

Robert Baratheon looked exactly how Y/N remembered him, towering over every lord in his tent. Y/N’s eyes trailed down the Baratheon’s body, gaze settling on a fresh bandage applied around his torso. 

“Sit him down.” Ned Stark spoke, drawing Y/N’s attention away from the Stormlander. Y/N grunted as he was forced into a chair, wincing as the rough wood of the seat made contact with the bruises no doubt littering his body. The two men were dismissed, and Robert and Ned turned their full attention to Y/N. 

“While I admire the efforts, you will be getting no valuable information from me.” Y/N spoke, taking in the different reactions from the two men. Ned winced at the reminder of the Lannister’s treatment in the camp, while Robert simply frowned, scowl deepening. 

“Has Tywin Lannister declared for the Targaryens?” Robert asked, and Y/N laughed, wincing half a second later at the pain it caused him. Tywin Lannister was still holed up at Casterly Rock with Cersei and Tyrion, leaving Jamie and Y/N to fight their own battles. 

“Did you see the Lannister forces at The Trident, Robert?” 

“I saw you.” 

Y/N smiled, “And you caught me.” 

“Are you saying you were with Rhaegar’s forces against your Lord father’s wishes?” Ned asked. 

“Which answer would make you less inclined to kick me in the ribs?” Y/N asked, if the two men brought him here for information they might as well get on with it. Y/N wishes to return to bed, finding small comforts in his sleep, as fitful as it was. 

Once again, Y/N’s words made the Stark flinch. “I apologize for your treatment, it was not our intention-” 

“Save it, Ned.” Y/N spat. “I am not a boy, I know how war works. I chose the losing side, and now my fate lies in your hands. If you’re going to have me killed as a traitor I’d rather you just get on with it, perhaps the afterlife will have less mud.” 

Robert barked out a laugh, “Alright.” 

“Robert-” 

“You heard the man, Ned.” Robert said. “He is of no use to us.” 

“If he speaks true,” Robert made to interrupt, but Ned continued on ignoring his friend. “If he speaks true, Lord Tywin has not yet declared for a side. If we have his son, his heir, he may be more sympathetic to our cause.” 

Y/N scoffed, “My father has two other sons.” 

“The kingsguard and the imp?” Robert raised an eyebrow and Y/N frowned. Tyrion was a child of the House Lannister, and even that it seemed would not save him from the realms scorns. Robert was right in his statement, however, Jamie was a sworn knight of the kingsguard, and his father could not even look at his youngest son let alone declare him heir. 

“I am not just some whore who’s body you can sell.” Y/N spat. 

“The whispers I hear would say differently.” 

“What the fuck are you implying.” Y/N sneered at the same time Ned let out a choked ‘Robert’. 

Robert held his hands up in mock surrender, dropping the topic. Ned sighed, turning to Y/N, “I know we are not friends Ser Y/N, but you are a fine knight, and with you and your house’s support behind us in this war we can win.” 

“You’re already winning.” Y/N deflated, it was true. Rhaegar was dead, and from Jamie’s reports Aerys was madder than ever. The war was practically over, and Y/N Lannister had chosen the wrong side. “You do not need the support of my father or me.” 

“Would you rather die?” Robert asked, his eyes scanning the knight in a way that made him squirm in his seat. 

“If I must.” 

“You do not have to, Y/N.” Ned sighed, “Work with us to secure your father’s support and we will let you live.” 

Y/N bit his lip, sinking in on himself. He knew he had no real choice, they would not kill him no matter what he said, they wanted his father’s army too badly. He could either let himself be a prisoner or he could be an equal with the two men. 

“Fine, tell me what to do.”

Jamie had killed Aerys, Tywin had sacked the city, and now the throne was Roberts. Y/N however, instead of celebrating the victory with his father and brother, was in the chambers of Ned Stark, drunk, half naked, and pressed into the mattress. 

“Don’t you have a wife?” Y/N gasped as Ned roughly tugged at the laces of his trousers. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Ned asked, although his smile as he finally managed to undo the laces undercut any bite put into his words. 

Y/N laughed as Ned tugged his trouser down his legs, tossing them to the side. Ned looked up at the man, smiling, and Y/N took the opportunity to wrap his legs around Ned’s waist and flip them over. Ned gasped as his back hit the bed, and Y/N smiled down at him. He leaned down close to his ear, whispering, “No.” 

Ned grabbed the back of his head, roughly smashing their lips together. Y/N immediately relaxed into the Lord’s hold, allowing Ned to trace his mouth down his jaw. Y/N gasped as Ned pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, before biting down roughly. Y/N ground his hips down roughly into Ned’s and the Stark’s grip in Y/N’s hair tightened as a low groan escaped his throat. 

“Have you ever shared a bed with a man before, Ned?” Ned paused, giving Y/N all the answers he needed. Y/N hummed, pushing Ned down into the bed. Ned stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, and skin flushed a red that was sure to be unusual for a Northerner. “Let me teach you then, Lord Stark.” 

Before Y/N could move however the door to the chambers burst open and the men jumped apart. Ned, still half dressed, threw a blanket to Y/N who quickly grabbed it to cover himself. The men both looked to the door, where Robert, now King Robert, was standing, a jug of wine in hand. Robert did not seem shocked at the sight, an amused smile plastered on his face. 

“What do we have here?” Robert said, still smiling. He closed the door behind him with his foot, placing the jug of wine on the table near the door. He took a seat, “Well, don’t stop for me.” 

“Robert-” Robert held a hand up, and Ned closed his mouth. 

“Are you just going to watch us, Robert?” Y/N said, trying to keep his usual confidence, although he could feel his face burning. Ned made a noise at Y/N’s question, but Robert smiled. Y/N looked to Ned, who’s flush had deepened significantly, before turning back to Robert. “Because the Keep’s beds seem big enough to fit three.” 

Robert’s smile widened, and Ned made a noise that sounded like he was dying. On many drunken nights throughout their journey to Kingslanding Ned had confided in Y/N about he and Robert’s youth-fueled escapades, although they had never gone past sloppy kisses Ned had always wondered what it would have been like to cross the line. 

“What did you say to him to get him into your bed?” Robert said to Y/N. 

“He has gotten me into his bed.” Y/N said. “Although it took him more cups of wine than you to do so, my king.” 

Ned looked between the two men, opening his mouth, probably to ask about Y/N’s words, but Y/N stood dropping the blanket and all words died on Ned’s lips. Robert smirked, standing and stripping his extensive layers. Ned stood silently, looking between Y/N and Robert, and Y/N just placed his hand on Ned’s bare chest. 

“Get onto the bed,” He whispered to Ned, chuckling when the man stripped himself of his remaining clothing and laid down into the bed. Robert came to stand behind Y/N, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Would you like to teach him or should I?” 

“You.” Robert released the man, walking toward the head of the bed. He crawled onto the bed, coming up behind Ned. He grabbed Ned’s jaw, forcing him to look at Y/N as he approached the bed. 

“Watch and learn, Ned.”

[slu7formen]

Hellooo helloo, I love all your Luke stories so muchh!!

Could I have a request for Luke x Poseidon’s daughter reader something about her joining him even betraying her brother Percy because love prevails all so like their love is the most powerful thing of all.. hope that makes sense in a way hahaha okay thank youuu 😙💗💕✨

thank you so much for reading my stories, I’m so glad you like them ☺️

luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: betrayal, reader’s kinda blinded by love but also kinda cute, little fluff at the end

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Thirteen wasn't exactly the age you pictured discovering you were a demigod. Apparently, you had blissfully –or maybe obliviously— muddled through your first thirteen years completely oblivious to the mythological world that simmered just beneath your feet.

Your life had been a quiet one. Growing up in a sleepy seaside town, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore was the soundtrack to your existence. You felt a weird connection to the water, an inexplicable pull towards the ocean whenever you stood on the beach. But you attributed that to nothing more than a love for swimming and a healthy dose of wanderlust, you thought.

Then came the satyr. Grover Underwood, a nervous wreck of a creature with a perpetually startled expression. You don´t remember much about your life back then, just the way he stammered through an explanation about Greek myths being real, your parentage being linked to a god, and the pressing need for you to get to a safe haven called Camp Half-Blood.

And now here you were. Years went by, living at Camp Half-Blood, and being the only child of Poseidon.

Camp was always bustled with activity. Laughter echoed across the training fields, campers sparred with celestial bronze swords. Yet, amidst the chaos, a subtle sense of loneliness lingered around you. You weren't friendless, not by any stretch of the imagination. You had a close circle of friends, but there was a specific kind of lonely feeling that came with being the only child of Poseidon at camp, a forbidden child.

The other cabins, they all teemed with siblings. —mostly—. Shared history, inside jokes, and the comfort of knowing someone else understood exactly what it meant to have the same god for a parent – these were things you craved. There was a gap, a yearning for a familial connection that none of your friends could fully fill.

Then came Percy.

His arrival at camp was nothing short of spectacular. A blue-eyed twelve-year-old with a knack for attracting trouble. During a particularly intense Capture the Flag game, Annabeth, a sharp-tongued daughter of Athena with a strategic mind, shoved Percy into the lake. The air crackled with gasps and surprises as a shimmering green trident materialized above Percy´s head, claiming him for Poseidon.

The revelation sent a jolt through you. You, the solitary child of the sea god, suddenly had a sibling. Percy looked up at you with wide, startled eyes, a mixture of awe and apprehension playing on his face. It was like looking into a mirror reflecting a younger version of yourself, the same confusion etched on his features.

Percy looked up to you with a hero-worship that both amused and touched you. He saw in you a reflection of his own mother, Sally Jackson, with her kindness and unwavering belief in the good in others. You became his confidante, his guide through the intricate social landscape of Camp Half-Blood.

But you weren't the only one who welcomed Percy. Luke, your closest friend at camp, was equally happy for your newfound family, —or so he faked it very well. Percy quickly found himself asking you both all the questions he had and spending all his training session´s with Luke.

You and Luke were a natural fit. Both of you skilled warriors, blessed with the agility of Hermes and the raw power of the sea. You sparred together often, your movements a dance of attack and parry, a language only the two of you seemed to understand. Your laughter echoed through the camp, and more than once, you caught Percy or other campers shooting you hesitant glances, not really knowing what your relationship was about, a thin line between friends love and-, other type of love, drawn in between.

And yes, Luke loved you, and you loved him. So much, that´d you´d be able to do anything for each other. Little did Percy know.

The metallic clang of your celestial bronze sword echoed through the silent woods, a jarring counterpoint to the chirping of nocturnal crickets. Percy, his breath ragged and sweat stinging his eyes, pushed back against Luke's relentless assault. Betrayal gnawed at his gut, a viper coiling tighter with every parry and thrust.

Luke, his once friendly face twisted with a manic fervor, pressed the attack. Every word that left his lips was a fresh wound: about the Olympians' manipulation, about the power promised by Kronos, about how this wasn't meant to betray him, or anyone.

Suddenly, the clang of steel meeting steel ceased. Percy stumbled back, his heart hammering in his chest, as Luke lowered his sword. A flicker of hope, fragile and fleeting, ignited within him.

"Percy," Luke said, his voice quieter now, a hint of desperation creeping in. "This is not what you want, trust me. Last chance."

Percy stared at him, the hope dying as quickly as it had flickered. How could Luke even suggest such a thing, joining him? Didn't he understand the consequences?

Before he could retort, a new figure emerged from the shadows of the trees behind Luke. His breath caught in his throat, eyes twitching as he tried his best to focus on the figure coming from the forest. You.

A flicker of relief washed over Percy as he saw you emerge from the shadows. "yn” he called out, hope blossoming in his chest.

You stepped into the scene, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on your features. But something was off. You weren't rushing to his side, face etched with concern as it usually was. Instead, you stood there, a strange stillness cloaking you.

"Percy" you finally said, your voice cool and controlled, lacking it´s usual warmth.

Confusion warred with the relief. "yn" he repeated, his voice unsteady. "Clarisse didn't – it was him" he stammered, pointing at Luke with his sword. "He stole the bolt. He's joining Kronos"

Percy expected outrage, surprise, anything. Instead, your expression remained unreadable. A shadow flickered across your face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"I know what he did" you replied simply. The calmness in your voice sent a shiver down his spine. The casualness of your reply was scary. It was like you were talking about the weather, not a world-shattering betrayal.

There was something wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Then help me" he pleaded, a desperate edge creeping into his voice.

You met his gaze for a long, agonizing moment. Percy saw a flicker of something weird in your eyes, something that made your pupils blown. But then, it was gone, replaced by a fire that mirrored Luke's.

A slow realization dawned on him, cold and heavy in his gut. You weren't surprised. You weren't angry. You knew.

Percy's heart hammered against his ribs. He saw the familiar hilt of your celestial bronze sword hanging loosely at your belt, the moonlight glinting off the polished metal.

"Percy, I can't do that" you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Percy understood then. You weren't caught in the middle. You weren´t with him, you were with Luke, all the way. The truth slammed into him, a betrayal far worse than anything he could have imagined. You were a traitor.

Percy felt like you'd ripped open a fresh wound in his chest and poured lemon juice in it. This sister, this family he'd thought he'd found at camp, meant nothing to you in the face of this rebellion? The anger coursing through him was laced with a bitter disappointment that gnawed at his insides. He'd trusted Luke blindly, sure, but you were different. He'd looked up to you, confided in you. The betrayal cut deep.

"You're with him?" he choked out, the question laced with disbelief and a raw, wounded vulnerability. He couldn´t wrap his mind around it.

"I'm not with him, Percy" you countered, taking a hesitant step forward. He flinched back, the movement a physical manifestation of the emotional chasm that had suddenly opened between you. The pain that flickered across your face was a punch to his gut, but he couldn't ignore the conviction in your voice. "We're together" you continued. "We created this."

Percy couldn't believe what he was hearing. You were so convinced, so blinded by whatever twisted loyalty you felt for Luke, that you couldn't see the bigger picture. "How could you?" he roared, his voice raw with emotion. "How could you do this, to everyone who trusts you? To the people who love you?"

You scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Come on, Percy, you want to talk about betrayal? Let's talk about our father." The words hung heavy in the air, a challenge laden with bitterness. A sudden breeze swept through the woods, rustling the leaves and carrying the salty scent of the ocean as if a wave had crashed nearby. It seemed like even the sea itself reacted to your words.

"Let's talk about the gods" you pressed, your voice laced with a bitter venom. "They get bored at the Olympus, so they play their pretty games, making mortals fall for them and then discarding them like broken toys. Mortals like your mom, like mine. And they leave us, their children, to pick up the pieces."

Percy groaned in frustration. "They're not perfect" he admitted, "they're trying their best for us"

"Don't bullshit me" you say. The calmer your voice was, the more fear Percy felt. "I don’t wanna fight, Percy, but they couldn´t care less”

Luke´s face partially obscured by the shadows, but the jagged scar across his cheek was visible under the moonlight. It was a constant reminder of the failed quest Hermes had sent him on, a cruel mark of a father's neglect.

Percy's gaze flicked between you and Luke, a sudden understanding dawning on him. Your words, your anger, your sadness. It wasn't just about Kronos or overthrowing the Olympians. It was about a deeper wound, a festering resentment born from years of feeling abandoned by your father, his father too. He understood, but he didn´t think it was right.

"But you can't be serious" he finally choked out. "This isn't the answer. There has to be another way."

A flicker of sadness crossed your features, a stark contrast to the steely resolve you'd presented earlier. It was a fleeting glimpse, a crack in the facade you'd constructed, and it tugged at Percy's heartstrings. No, it wasn't jealousy or envy. It was a deeper, more profound sense of loss. You weren't angry at him for having a father who cared just a little bit, for having a family he cherished. You were simply… sad. Sad that you never had that, that your only family was Luke, and that his arrival, however welcome it initially felt, couldn't erase the years of loneliness you'd endured.

Percy´s eyes darted behind you, to Luke.

"Why are you dragging her into this?" Percy demanded, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and protectiveness. He knew you weren't the mastermind, Luke was the one who had poisoned your trust, manipulated your resentment.

"It's not that hard to understand, Percy" you answered before Luke could speak. Your voice held a quiet defiance, a loyalty that both warmed and stung him. "We're together" you repeated, the words laced with a quiet strength that resonated deep within him.

Then it hit him, another wave of realization crashing over him like a rogue wave. It wasn't just loyalty or a shared cause that bound you to Luke. There was something more, something deeper that flickered in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

"You love him" Percy whispered, the words hanging heavy in the air. And it wasn´t a question either, he knew.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks, but you didn't deny it. "We understand each other, Percy. We know what it's like to be unseen, unheard. Isn't that what love is? Empathy, understanding?"

A tear escaped your eye, glistening in the moonlight. Percy could see the pain, the longing in your eyes, how you clinged to the only thing that hugged you back; Luke.

“You’re blind” Percy whispered, hand instinctively groping to the handle of his sword.

"No, Percy" you countered, your voice soft but firm. "I'm awake. I see things for what they are. You know what it feels like, right? To have one person who understands you, who truly sees you" you continued. Your voice softened even further, a hint of vulnerability entering the equation. "Sally, isn't it?"

He flinched at the mention of his mother's name.

"That's love, P." you said, using the nickname you'd once shared. The sound of it sent a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill from his eyes, mirroring the glistening in your own. "And to me, to us" you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "that's the most powerful thing."

Percy saw the love for Luke burning bright in your eyes, a love that had blinded you to the potential destruction you were embracing. He saw the pain of neglect, the longing for acceptance that fueled your rebellion. But most of all, he saw a glimmer of hope, a flicker of doubt that your tear-filled eyes betrayed.

The weight of your words settled on Percy like a lead blanket. He understood the path you were on, but he couldn't just let you walk away, couldn't let you be consumed by this darkness. The thought of ever having to fight you, to raise his sword against his own sister, filled him with a dread that eclipsed even the fear of facing Kronos himself.

With a desperate surge of defiance, Percy lunged at you, Riptide flashing in the moonlight. You reacted with lightning reflexes, a blur of blue as you deflected his attack with your own celestial bronze sword. The clang of metal echoed through the silent woods, a discordant note in the tense atmosphere.

The fight was short, brutal, and utterly one-sided. You were older, more experienced, and fueled by a burning conviction that mirrored Percy's own determination. A quick twist of your wrist, a disarming maneuver honed through years of training, and Riptide clattered to the ground several feet away.

Percy landed hard on the leaf-strewn ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He lay there, disarmed, defeated, and utterly heartbroken. Betrayal gnawed at him, a bitter cocktail of anger and sorrow.

A single tear escaped your eye, tracing a glistening path down your cheek. You knelt down beside him, your touch surprisingly gentle on his shoulder. "Percy," you said, your voice thick with emotion, "you're my brother. I don´t wanna leave you”

Percy looked up at you, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with a storm of conflicting emotions. "Then why?" he choked out, his voice hoarse. "Why are you doing this?"

"Come with me” you continued, your voice softening further. “Come with us, Percy”

A long silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

"I can't, yn" he said, his voice firm despite the tremor that ran through him. "I won't be a part of this, it´s not fair."

A flicker of pain crossed your features. You rose to your feet then, your expression unreadable again.

A curt nod was your only response before you swiped a hand across your cheek, wiping away the traitorous tear. Bending down, you retrieved your celestial bronze sword, the moonlight glinting coldly off its surface.

"Then I guess I won't see you for a while, little one" you said, your voice thick with a maelstrom of emotions. Percy almost flinched at the nickname, a stark reminder of the bond you once shared. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, a suffocating feeling that left him breathless.

Suddenly, a hand clamped softly onto your arm. You whipped around, eyes focusing on Luke, his face grim.

"We have to go" he said urgently, his voice laced with a barely concealed panic.

You glanced back at Percy, his expression a mixture of heartbreak and steely resolve. A million unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a silent plea for you to reconsider, to choose family over rebellion.

But your path was laid. With a final, longing look at Percy, you took a few steps towards a cluster of crumbling ruins that stood there sentinel. Luke reached for your hand, his grip tight with a mix of reassurance and desperation.

Percy watched, a cold dread settling in his gut, as Luke traced a final line, completing the arcane symbol etched onto the column. The air shimmered, a blueish light pooling in the center of the ruins. It widened, forming a shimmering curtain that pulsed with an otherworldly energy.

Luke leaned in, whispering something in your ear. You nodded, a faint smile gracing your lips for a fleeting moment. Then Luke, his face a mask of grim determination, looked back at Percy for a final time. And with a final squeeze of his hand, you both stepped into the shimmering portal. The blue light intensified for a moment, blinding Percy momentarily.

And then just like that, you were gone.

The portal spat you out in a blackness so thick it felt like a physical presence. The air was heavy with the smell of salt and wet sand. You stumbled forward, disoriented, hand instinctively tightening on Luke's. His grip was firm, anchoring you in the swirling darkness.

"Whoa, careful" he murmured, his voice a welcome sound in the suffocating silence.

He took a tentative step forward, then another, testing the ground. You followed suit, your steps hesitant and laced with a growing unease.

"Come on" he said, his voice tinged with urgency, "we gotta get to-"

He cut himself off abruptly as he realized you weren't moving. You stood rooted to the spot, your eyes fixed on something beyond him, your grip on his hand tightening almost painfully.

Luke turned you gently, his brow furrowed in concern as he gazed into your tear-filled eyes. The moonlight, pale and ghostly, illuminated the glistening tracks on your cheeks.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry. He cupped your face in his calloused hands, his touch a familiar comfort in the unsettling darkness.

You choked back a sob, the tears overflowing again. "Am I doing the right thing, Luke?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the crashing waves. "I lost my family, again. Percy. He doesn’t-…”

The raw pain in your voice tore at his heart. He knew this path, this rebellion, would come at a cost, but seeing the emotional toll it was taking on you was a gut punch.

"Hey, hey, look at me" he coaxed, gently lifting your chin so your eyes met his. His gaze was steady, filled with a fierce loyalty that had always been a source of strength for you.

"We were on this path way before Percy arrived, remember?" he asked, his voice firm yet soothing.

You nodded slowly, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I need you to be strong for me, angel” he continued, his thumb brushing away the tear. "You´re what keeps me going."

He placed a tender kiss on your forehead. "I'll give you everything" he murmured, his voice a low promise. "I promise I'll give you the life you deserve"

Then, he trailed a line of kisses down your cheek, his lips lingering on yours in a final, lingering and sweet kiss.

It was meant to be a reassurance, but it sent a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through you. There was comfort in his touch, a flicker of the love you shared, but it was overshadowed by a gnawing doubt.

When you finally pulled back, a shaky breath escaping your lips, Luke took your hand, his touch gentle yet firm. He looked out at the vast expanse of ocean, then scanned the horizon.

You followed his gaze, squinting through the darkness. A faint flicker of white lights danced in the distance, a beacon in the vast blackness.

"Come on" he said, his voice tinged with newfound purpose. "We gotta get to the cruise."

[all-eye]

High Value Target

(Yandere!St.Figarland Garling X F!Reader)

[A/n: First of all, english isn’t my first language, sorry if there is any mistake. Also it's my first work ever posted, be nice please.

Second, the Yandere!Garling portrayal has been heavily inspired by the lovely work of @everlasting-rainfall , you should check their blog if you'd like, minors do not interact with their tumblr!

Third, this is a dead-dove fic. Read at your own risks]

I HAVE NEVER, AND WILL NEVER CONDONE THE ACTIONS OF ANY CELESTIAL DRAGON!!

Dialogues:

• Common language spoken in OP

• Local language spoken on this one island

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Not Spoiler Free (until chap 1096), Death, Genocide, Mass Suicide, Racism/Colonialism, Slavery, Cultural Erasure, Celestial Dragons being Celestial Dragons, Celestial Dragons National "Hunt a Native" Event, Implied Rape/Noncon, Non-sexual Nudity, Stalking, Yandere Creepiness, Female!Reader, Tattoed!Reader

DEAD DOVE/DO NOT EAT

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

(Three years before the God Valley Incident, somewhere in the New World)

You were a gift to the Temple, even before you could start to remember your parents faces. You learnt how to fight at the same time your learnt how to walk. The other gifted children were your brothers and sisters, and alongside them you grew up, learning how to detect your enemy's Voice and how to make your weapon and your fists as hard as diamonds. You learnt how to attack, and how to defend.

When you became an adult, you received your tattoos, your steel trident along with a new name. One which would give you strength and resilience.

You were part of the Priests of the War God. Elite of the Nation and Protector of the Island.

But those sea people... those wretched, greasy and filthy invaders... those so-called Gods. They didn't use any of those titles.

So, what did they call you?

A Super Rare Rabbit.

When they arrived, surrounded your island with their ships and made their announcement, you didn’t understand at first. You weren't really skilled in that area, you had troubles understanding their language. And when you finally got it, you still didn’t believe it. I mean, who could? It was... surreal, absurd.

You finally understood when the first shot was fired.

Mayhem was unleashed upon your people. Screaming children everywhere, families running frantically. The sound of detonations and misery. The smell of blood, powder and death.

Along with your siblings, you tried to do your duty as best as you could. Striking some of these invaders, but mostly helping your fellow citizens to flee and hide in the mountains.

This was all too sudden. You had to retreat, take a grasp on the situation, and come up with a plan.

There was also a small group of foreigners who were used as targets. Apparently, slaves. Only by taking your time to discuss with them, with the help of someone who spoke their language, did you truly comprehend the Horror of your situation.

A Hunt. These demons were planning to exterminate all of you, but wanted to have fun with it.

If you survived for 3 weeks you would be released? As if! Who could believe that?! As the slaves said, no one ever survived these fucked up games!

They would kill you all and steal your Land.

That is, only the lucky ones would be shot. You’ve heard some accounts. And you wanted to bash your skull against a rock to forget them.The things surviving civilians witnessed during the first attack. The horrendous fate that awaited many women and even some pretty young men who were left behind.

As you tried to calm down the citizens, your higher-ups were pondering their options. They could clearly sense it, most of the sea people didn't know anything about combat. However, their weaponry was way more advanced than yours. Not only that, but a tremendous number of their battleships surrounded the island, leaving no way out.

To make matters worse, there was also that one thing, that you could sense too. They counted about ten of these people, whose Voices were so dreadful they shook them to their core.

In this instance, what could they do? Their options were scarce, if not inexistent. You could feel their unease seeping through the camp, slowly making its way into everyone's mind. Once they were done deliberating, you were all gathered to hear their final decision.

You shared a glance with some of your brothers. You didn’t voice your opinion, but frankly, you didn’t need to. Most of them were having similar thoughts.

One thing was clear: you would all die. There was no need to lie to yourself. Either hunted for sports like animals, or reduced to slavery.

But still, something needed to be done. You couldn't just... wait for the sea-people to come and play their stupid games. No warrior could ever endure such humiliation. No civilian deserved to end up a hunting trophy. You needed to act quick, before any of them could reach this hideout.

So, the higher-ups finally spoke. From the beginning, there was only one true option. And even if you thought you were ready to hear that, you still felt like the ground was opening under your feet and swallowing you whole. It was so unfair... how could you tell that to the civilians? Look them in the eyes and tell them you couldn't protect them? That your vows meant nothing?

But still... all these people... the women, the children, the elderly... and those who just could not defend themselves... they finally understood. After all, they were still part of a prideful nation. If they could find a way to avoid this game, they would do it.

And then, it started.

People hugging their loved ones before throwing themselves off cliffs.

Mothers holding their children before making them eat the seeds of the Last-Kiss Fruit.

And those who picked up the poisoned corpses and threw them into water sources, slowly infecting the Land, destroying everything before the invaders could seize it.

At the end, only a few people remained.

The War Priests of the West, dutiful and well-trained. The Masked Mountain Warriors, as stealthy as deadly. The Archers of the Eastern Coast, whose bloodlust was unmatched in the whole Land. Some foreign slaves and other natives joined you as well. Every men and women who were ready to kill and be killed.

These people wanted a good Hunt, didn't they? Well, the only good hunt is one where both parties are in danger. You would show them. Strike fear into their hearts. A last time before your culture vanished, they would understand how your kind celebrated Death.

Most of them, the portly ones wearing glass bubbles on their heads, they were quite easy to catch. Some were even dumb enough to get themselves eaten by mountain beasts. And those who weren't, they would end up lost in the forest, stumbling across rows and rows of decaying bodies, before getting stabbed by ambushed warriors and hung from the trees, with their remains displayed in the most gruesome way.

However, as days went by, these people ventured less and less inland. Now, only their most powerful fighters dared to step a foot into the forest, those whose strength was so great they could wipe out a dozen of your warriors in a single blow. It was all madness.

You managed to escape them so far, but still, your numbers were quickly dwindling.

For how long had this been going on? You'd say... maybe... nine to thirteen days. You weren't really sure anymore. For now, the moon was full, shining high in the sky, you were sitting alone in a clearing hidden behind a row of trees, and frankly, you were just trying to get some rest.

As shitty as this situation was, you could say, today was a good day. A great day, actually. One of these former slaves had told you those fighters were called "Holy Knights". And just this morning, your fellow War Priests managed to ambush one of them.

You were there when it happened. You saw the true power of these so-called "knights", which could only be described as demonic. Something unholy and unheard of, that needed every ounce of your combined forces to manage to destroy it. Most of your remaining siblings died today, leaving you as one of their last ones standing. But still, you weren't going to cry just yet, because at the end of the day, this haughty arrogant scummy awful disgusting horrendous- knight met his well-deserved fate.

His head detached from his body, attached to an arrow and hurled towards your enemy position for everyone to see.

It was the one thing that made you smile, the one thing that made you almost giddy.

They were warned, not even their best warriors were safe. Your civilization may die out eventually (it was already a zombie at that point), but you weren't just going to vanish quietly, playing by their stupid rules.

You were still planning to clash with some other knights, but for now, you were just going to get some rest.

Soon, you could fully rest.

It would all end soon enough.

Garling was seething. How did that happen? How did this scum manage to get himself killed?! By half-naked peasants, nonetheless! Sure, he was one of their weakest, but still, what a disgrace for their Order! He almost wanted to crush this fool's skull under his boot.

Breath in... Breath out...

This humiliating inconvenience put aside, he could say, he was pleasantly surprised by that turn of event.

Honestly, he didn't expect these natives to go this far. Most of the regular Rabbits killed themselves during the first two days, leaving only Rare and Super Rare ones. What was initially a funny contest between Nobles was now a much more difficult competition between Knights only.

Well, he wouldn't complain: as long as there was a worthy challenge, he was willing to play.

But still, what were they thinking? If they were capable of thoughts, that is... Why bother fighting back if they were all doomed anyway? What was their purpose? Did they even have one?

Foolish, but still, quite entertaining.

For now, the moon was full, shining high in the sky, he was walking through the woods when he heard some noise.

How unfair, you were thinking... No matter what horrors were happening down there, the moon and stars were as beautiful as ever. Besides, at the altitude you were at, the stench of corpses barely reached you.

You suddenly had this urge. You weren't sure why... maybe because the night was just so beautiful. It didn't really make sense, but maybe... you just needed to let it all out.

You stood up, your feet stomping rhythmically on the grass. Your hips began to sway. Your chest filled with air. Your arms rose. Your head tilted back as the words of that old hymn came out of your mouth.

"...He is the One Mighty Dancer under whose graceful dancing feet, the heads of all the arrogant Lords of the Bloody Cliff get crushed...."

You giggled slightly. How fitting.

As you were singing and dancing to your heart's content, the man hidden behind the trees had his eyes glued to you.

Of course Garling recognized you. Large pants, bare chest, upper body covered in tattoos... you were one of their Priestesses. A Super Rare Rabbit.

With the light of the moon, he could see you almost as well as in broad daylight. He've seen you several times before: you weren't one of their strongest, but for sure you were a slick one. So far, you've been one of the rare ones who managed to escape him.

His eyes roamed all over your body: from your bare feet to your raised hands, from your heaving breasts to your pert nipples, from your wet cheeks to your eyes closed in bliss.

He'd seen countless slave dancers, far more graceful than you. He'd heard countless slave singers, far more melodious than you. And yet, he had to admit, there was something truly enticing, something he couldn't put his finger on, about the wild way you swayed and moved.

Whatever, no matter how alluring it was, you were still a primitive... how shameless of you... to flaunt your attributes like that, without a care in the world.

He assumed you were unaware of his presence, however, a part of him liked to imagine that you were deliberately putting on a show just for him.

And suddenly, the music stopped. With your back to him, you stood as still as a statue, half your limbs still in the air. You didn’t even spare a glance his way before grabbing your discarded trident and disappearing into the woods.

He chuckled, almost disappointed by this abrupt end. He almost wanted to go after you right away, but hey, it couldn't hurt to give you a little head start, right?

Frankly, he was tired of scurrying through the dense forest at night. And after all... he still had that one issue inside his pants he needed to take care of. As he continued to stare at the spot where you had disappeared, one of his hands rested on his growing bulge while the other gripped the hilt of his sword.

Don't worry, dear Rabbit... he would catch you soon enough.

You ran frantically, trying to put as much distance as possible between you and him. You didn't even have to look back. Just by feeling his terrifying presence, you recognized him.

"I remember you... Gaa'Laaaan.... or maybe Gaa'Liiiiiiin.... or whatever it is, whatever your name must mean in your worthless language... Son of a rotten spider's corpse, how dare you spy on me with those nasty eyes of yours?! I'll have your head, if not I'll claw your eyes out, if not I'll gnaw on your bones, if not..."

And so on and so on.

The thing was... you still wanted to fight them, but not him. Not right now. Not just yet. Damn... just by feeling his stare on your back, you were already shaking from head to toe and struggling to breathe... Since the beginning, if you were to count each one of your siblings, you'd say he was the one who killed most of them. For some reason he'd been the one who targeted your Order the most, and each of your encounters with him had been more terrifying than the last.

So you ran and ran until dawn.

After this one encounter, two whole days passed. You weren't sure if you were the last one standing, but you didn’t run into anyone. That is, until that fateful moment where once again, you felt his eyes on your back. For sure he was a dedicated man, you could give him that. You steadied your breathing, trying to keep your fingers from shaking, while you remembered the words of your late teacher:

"Come on, get up! You won't be able to do anything if you can't stay steady on your own two feet! Now you better listen... it's a very strong power that defends you like an invisible armor, and can also be used offensively. You need to be aware of it, to feel it going through your blood... Now breathe... Can you feel it yet? You have to allow this power in your body to flow to your fist, and then your weapon. Once it's done, this thing that covers you will become even stronger, it will enter your enemy's body and destroy it from the inside!"

You glanced back at him, gripping you trident tightly as you took up a fighting stance.

"It's been going on for too long already, don't you think? Come on, 《'Ga'Lan' 'Ga'Lin'》. Fight me."

Good grief... In all honesty, you had no expectation of defeating him- his level was clearly superior anyway, but to the point where you couldn't even do him any harm, not even a single wound... what a humiliation!

There you were, nearly beaten to death, but not quite dead yet. You lay on the ground, both your ankles broken, your beloved trident a few feet away and his lanky figure hovering over you.

Now you could clearly see him. You saw his gaze linger on your face, then move down your wounded body to finally rest on your breasts.

Oh. That’s right. You almost forgot that one detail about foreign men. Honestly, what was their problem? Were they suckling babies? Why would they be that much bothered by a woman's torso?

And more importantly, why was he taking so long to finish you off?!

He sheated his sword, removed his gloves. What was he thinking? Perhaps... even though your bloody form was far from attractive right now, you were still a woman... If he didn't want to end you just yet, maybe he wanted to... you felt your throat tighten. Maybe, just maybe, if you were lucky, you would lose counsciousness before he could put his hands on you.

He knelt down, brought his face close to yours. Too close, the tip of his weird hairdo almost tickling your cheek. You heard him talk to you.

What a joke... You were bleeding badly, on the verge of fainting, did he seriously think you would use your last two functioning brain cells to try and understand what he was saying?!

How dared he... that filthy maggot... that disgusting creature... who did he think he was?! He had no rights! No right to be this pretty, no right to look at you with such tender eyes, no right to speak to you with such a soft voice, no right to stroke your cheek as if he weren't the one who brought Doom to your island!!

It wasn't right. Things needed to end, quickly. You couldn't stay brave for very long. There was only so much you could take.

Were you in better condition, you would have bitten his fingers off. Instead, you gathered all the fluids in your mouth and spat a bloody one on his too-perfect face.

" YOU WENCH ! "

He slapped you and then stood up. You hoped he would finally draw his sword but instead he went back to his weird duck-like steed, seemingly looking for something. It was only when he came back to you, a smirk on his face, that you could see what he was holding in his hands.

A chain.

Now you understood.

He didn't want to end you.

He wanted to keep you.

"No... No way... Stop it! STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU SICK BASTARD!!!"

At that moment, whatever was left of your dignity and self-control left your body. Blood was pounding in your temples. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks. Tiny whimpers and ugly sobs were coming out of your mouth. All your limbs were shaking as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp. To no avail. In the blink of an eye, you were thrown over his steed, secured tightly by the chain.

"P-Please... I'm begging you, just kill me..."

It was all too much. Your throat felt raw. Your vision started to get blurry. The last thing you remembered before you passed out, was his hand in your hair, as he looked down at you with that sickening smile of his.

"Don't worry my dear... Even if I spare one Rabbit, I still win the game."

[nexahexagon]

If you're still doing LoSA requests, the previous one of sneeg going blind gave me the image of Clown doing guide-dog duties for sneeg but accidently letting him run into things cause he doesn't quite know what to guide him on yet. Some silly after that ANGST (I love all of these so much omg)

Sorry for taking so long but they’ve been in my brain, rest assured. They’re just silly with it!

I think Sneeg would have trouble with echolocation, getting overstimulated and it being something completely brand new to him, so he tends to focus on noises he’s used to hearing! Voices and footsteps being a large portion of that! I also think the ocean waves are very calming for him. He’s get a fairly decent water theme (considering trident), and I think the water would drown out other noises for him!

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

okay! here's the first poseidon 'snippet' . this takes place before and during this scene!

second snippet

there's a masterlist now!

hope you guys enjoy! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

*a few months after poseidon had left apollo’s infirmary finally all free of holes all healed up*

*up on olympus*

zeus: *bored outta his godly mind after 20 years of entertainment (especially those last 10 years)*

zeus: *suddenly struck with an idea*

zeus: *to no one in particular* i think i’m going to go pay my brother a visit… just to check on how he is…

zeus: *disappears in a flash of lightning*

hera: *entering the room*

hera: *stares at the scorch marks on the ground where zeus just was*

hera: *to herself* as long as its nothing to do with a woman or illegitimate child… then i don’t care.

*below the sea in poseidon’s palace*

*poseidon enjoying some peace and quiet; when in a flash, zeus on one of his very rare visits, appears in front of him*

zeus: *looking around the room* so… how are things?

poseidon:

poseidon: *sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose*

poseidon: what do you want zeus?

zeus: *ignoring poseidon’s question* where’s your queen?

poseidon: amphitrite is out visiting her sisters…wait never mind that-

poseidon: what do you want?

zeus: *now looking at poseidon* can’t i come see my big brother?

poseidon: you never bother, unless you want something.

poseidon: *anger now in his voice* so out with it.

zeus: *putting his hands up in front of him* whoa! no need to get angry…

zeus: *putting his hands down and a smirk appears* ...remember how that ended for you last time?

zeus: *smirk gets bigger* how you let odysseus beat you like that, i have no idea…

poseidon: *glaring at zeus* do not speak that name in my home

zeus: why my dear brother? are you perhaps… scared?

poseidon: *falling right into zeus provocations*

poseidon: i am NOT scared of that mons- mortal!

poseidon: he merely took advantage of my state after using a lot of my power!

zeus: *under his breath to himself* that power still didn’t kill him though, did it?

zeus: *to poseidon this time* but you’re not in that state now, are you? nor have you been since you left olympus… so what’s holding you back now?

poseidon: *raising an eyebrow at zeus* holding me back from what?

zeus: *knows he has poseidon hook, line and sinker*

zeus: i understand you can no longer hurt him or his family; unless you want to incur the wrath of my daughter… and i suppose even my wife

zeus: but you can make trouble for him still, can’t you?

poseidon:

zeus: *notices the slight hesitation*

zeus: or maybe you are truly fearful of him now? the mighty god of the seas, terrified of a mortal king.

poseidon: *blinks and then goes back to glaring at zeus*

poseidon: i told you i am not sca-

zeus: -then what’s stopping you?

poseidon: NOTH- *coughs* nothing.

poseidon: *crosses his arms and looks away from zeus*

zeus: *laughs knowing he’s done what he came here to do*

zeus: well, i shouldn’t stay too long away from olympus... enjoy the rest of your day brother.

zeus: *disappears in another flash of lightning*

poseidon: *looks at the scorch marks on his floor*

poseidon: he always leaves a mess…

poseidon: *thinking over the conversation again*

poseidon: i’ll show him who’s scared.

*outside the shores of ithaca*

poseidon: *looking the nice clear weather and seeing the merchant ships coming to and from ithaca*

poseidon: it would be a shame if something disrupted this...

poseidon: *smirks* *summons his trident & lifts it to the sky*

*the wind picks up and storm clouds quickly start forming*

poseidon: *can hear distant shouts of mortals reacting to the sudden storm*

poseidon: *laughs to himself* perfect.

poseidon: well, i guess i’ll leave this to brew. i’ll check back later to see what damage has happe-

poseidon: *a full body shiver comes over him out of nowhere*

poseidon: *turns to look at the ithacan docks where he can see..a mortal?*

poseidon: why i am i bothered by that mo-

poseidon: *sees deep red eyes and realises who the mortal is*

poseidon: -oh no.

*the king of ithaca odysseus stands there, glaring into the storm*

odysseus: *in a cold voice* I am going sailing with my son. There will be no issues, is that understood?

poseidon: *even though he knows odysseus can’t hear him* aye aye captain!

poseidon: *with a whimper calls off the storm immediately and quickly dives back under the water*

poseidon: *before he can completely leave, he can hear the voice of odysseus saying “good.”*

poseidon: *about to head straight back home but pauses*

poseidon: *remembers odysseus said he was going sailing with his son*

poseidon: *knows he may be god of the sea, but he can’t always be there to control what the residents of said sea get up too*

poseidon: maybe i should just make sure there’s nothing to make him angrier at me

poseidon: *secretly follows & stays near odysseus’ and telemachus’ ship*

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 8 - Wire's Turn

Sabaody continued.

WC: 3.5k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

“Hurry the fuck up,” Wire growled, tugging on the chain leash that was attached to your metal collar. At least it wasn't explosive, small victories. You could only hope it would stay that way.

“I'm trying!” You pouted, practically jogging to keep up, “not all of us are eight feet tall!”

“You're not that much shorter than me,” Killer pointed out, “but I'm having no trouble.”

“I have a misleadingly long torso!” You whined, “I've only got little legs. Carry me if you're so bothered, I can't walk any faster, I'm basically running as it is.”

Wire grabbed you unceremoniously and threw you over his shoulder, making Killer snort a laugh as you squeaked in surprise. You crossed your arms against Wire's back with a pout, poking your tongue out at Killer walking behind as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I feel like a hunted deer,” you commented.

“Shut it or I'll drop you,” Wire replied flatly. You looked at the eight foot drop to the ground and quickly decided against that.

“Please don't,” you whispered.

You took some time to enjoy the view from all the way up there, finally taller than pretty much everyone around you. Killer's mask bobbed side to side, taking in the locals as well, while also no doubt staying on guard for potential trouble, considering where you were. For the “criminal” area of the archipelago, the town was pretty nice. Sure it was clear that most of the people here were more colourful than the usual Sabaody resident, and obviously on the rougher side. You saw a great deal of women, and the occasional man or child, wearing explosive collars, often being led by chains not dissimilar to your own.

The children were the hardest to look at, all clearly emaciated and abused. Your grand hope was that Luffy would become King of the Pirates and destroy the Red Line and all the disgusting pigs that lived in Mariejois on top, and put an end to this horrid human trade. If things went wrong and Kid decided to get rid of you, you desperately hoped Killer would take ownership of you. At least then you could expect the bare minimum care, though you still weren't sure if Killer would be the type to hit you. He was your favourite so you hoped not. Then again, Heat seemed like the type who couldn't hurt a fly, and yet you knew he burned people to death on a regular basis, a truly gruesome way to die. You tried not to think too hard about how many people Killer had murdered to get his epithet, or how many people had been impaled on the forks of the trident held only inches to your left.

Sabaody was certainly an amusing place. It was just as pretty in person as it had been in the anime, with the ground and bubble based structures all shimmering with a pretty iridescence, making everything sparkle. Bubbles floated from the ground and drew your attention to the giant trees surrounding you that formed the island, with their pale blue-grey striped trunks and vibrantly green leaves. Rays of light broke through between the trees, giving the whole archipelago an almost ethereal look, Killer's hair often glowing like he had a halo as he passed through the rays. You wondered if he knew how attractive he looked like that, with his cool fringed jeans and button-down shirt, opened to the chest to show off his muscles. It was a real shame he'd get rid of these clothes at some point in the next few years. Now there's a thought, I mean you'd confirmed it now that you'd seen him naked, but before you came here - when this world was still just fiction - what proof did you have that his arm hadn't always been scarred? It'd never even occurred to you now that he wore long sleeves, he could have been hiding those scars all along. Now that you were here though you knew that whatever caused that injury was still to happen. There was the comment Kid had made in Udon about one of Big Mom's pirates hurting one of his friends, maybe the burns would come from Charlotte Oven and his heating ability.

“Where are we going anyway?” You asked curiously. The commanders had already found an inn for the night and dropped off their stuff, as well as heading to a few different weapons stores to stock up, and cashing in some looted treasure for berri. Most supplies for the ship were taken care of by the lower ranked crewmates, which meant this was likely a personal trip.

“None of your business,” Wire huffed.

“Wire's just embarrassed cos his cocks too big for regular condoms,” Killer chuffed, “we're going out tonight, gotta be prepared.”

“Wait, so we're going to an adult store?” You perked up, “fun!”

“Don't get excited, we're not wasting any berri on you,” Killer spat back, making you pout. Still, you were curious to see what sort of things were available in this world. Sabaody was a hub city, you had no doubt it would have a wide range of the things available in this world, especially in this shadier area. You wondered what sort of toys were popular here, and what sort of technology they had. Did One Piece have vibrators? Suction toys? Remote controlled toys? Did they utilise den-dens? Now there was an intriguing prospect. Was it morally grey to use a snail for that?

“How big can it possibly be anyway?” You pondered aloud, “I thought those XL condoms were a marketing scam, I mean have you seen how big regular ones can blow up?”

“They break easier if they're too small,” Wire replied frankly, “I ain't risking that with random whores.”

“If you're so desperate for a lay why haven't you just fucked me?” You asked him, “My legs are wide open baby.” Wire was the only commander who hadn't taken advantage of your presence on the ship, in fact he'd barely interacted with you at all outside of Kid ordering him to jizz on you.

“You couldn't handle me,” Wire said smugly.

“What, I can take Kid's soda can cock but not you?” You asked.

“I'm bigger,” Wire replied with a cocky tint to his voice, “did you not see?”

“She was a little preoccupied,” Killer smirked.

“Someone was gagging me with his cock,” you frowned.

“And you loved every second of it, didn't you?” Killer teased, and you poked your tongue out at him again.

“Maybe if you're a good girl today I'll let you try,” Wire promised, “but don't come crying to me if you get hurt. I warned you.”

“Bet,” you smirked as Wire put you back down, “I'm not some inexperienced little virgin. I can take it.”

“We'll see,” Wire mumbled, coming to an open door that led to a stairwell, apparently the store was upstairs. There was only minimal signage outside, but once in the stairwell it was obvious what sort of store you were ascending to, the walls plastered with various posters of sexy, barely dressed - sometimes entirely nude - models advertising various products. There was even a sign that read ‘pets welcome’ with a stick figure pictogram of a human with a collar and leash. Ironic. The shop attendants would probably think Wire was your dom, not that you were opposed to that.

The shop held all the usual things you would expect; dildos, lingerie, anal play toys, lubricant, porn, basic BDSM gear. But there were things that you definitely didn't expect as well. For one, less vanilla dildos like the style you'd used on Killer seemed to be common, as well as many other monster themed dildos that you would more expect to have to buy online in your own world. There were all sorts of them, some you recognised that looked like Heat's, some even in pairs like his, others that looked like horse or cow, advertised as minotaur themed. You wondered if this was an effect of not having the internet here, whether it was easier in that case to just sell more exotic items in store, or if it was a result of being in a particularly shady area. There was a whole display of what you recognised to be dials, with a big cardboard cut out of some beautiful woman with purple hair in space buns, a strange visor, and barely any other clothing, advertising that these dials stored vibrations.

Wire selected his condoms fairly quickly but continued to peruse the store, so you followed him around, not that you had much choice as he tugged at your leash whenever you paused for too long. The store worker and other customers didn't even blink an eye at him leading you around, or your bound wrists. Killer was already off looking at the porn when Wire made his way to that section, and you were curious to see what sort of kinks were popular here. Once again you were suprised by the amount of monsterfucker targeted items, with magazines that featured all sorts of creatures on the front, often entangled with humans. It was strange how very photo realistic they were, were they just very good at costumes and special effects makeup in this world? You didn't think they had CGI here, because surely that would require computers. Maybe they were devil fruit users? Minks?

You picked up a magazine that intrigued you, the cover featuring a human woman not dissimilar looking to yourself, with a large werewolf and minotaur either side of her. You flicked through the pages looking at the various poses they put her in, quite impressed at the size of their cocks and how realistic they looked, surely they couldn't be dildos? They must be devil fruit users. The centrefold was an extra long page that could be flipped down, and you gasped as it revealed a almost to life scale image of the minotaur's massive cock.

“Oi, no free reads,” the shop attendant yelled from the counter, “either buy it or put it back.”

Killer and Wire both took note of the magazine you were holding and exchanged a look. “She'll buy it,” they both said in unison, making you extremely confused.

“What… but…” you stuttered as Wire took the mag from you, “I thought you weren't spending money on me?”

“We're making an exception,” Killer said quickly.

“Oh… okay,” you replied, still very confused.

The boys paid for their things and dragged you back out of the store, Wire putting you back over his shoulder to walk faster. “You liked that mag then?” Wire asked. Weird thing to ask when he'd already bought it for you.

“If you're asking if I'm a monsterfucker, or interested in fucking werewolves and minotaurs,” you replied, “my answer would be a resounding yes. You should see some of the dildos I have back home.”

“Interesting,” Wire hummed. Perhaps you could take him after all, if you were used to that sort of size. The thought of burying himself in you made his cock twitch, finding someone who could take him was a rarity, especially human. That's why he usually turned to professionals who knew their limits, no fucking around only to be disappointed when they tap out. It was unfair really that he hadn't gotten a chance to destroy your cunt, and with the clock ticking on your story being proven true or false, he might not have much time left to try you out before inevitably sold you off. Being from another world was a insane excuse for Wire, he didn't have a single inclination that you were telling the truth, but that didn't mean he wouldn't fuck you while he could. Making a snap decision he carried you to a nearby alleyway, still in broad daylight and in full sight of those walking past but he didn't give a shit. This was normal for this zone anyway, there were no kids in this area and besides, he'd seen at least three other couples going at it on the way here.

Killer followed you both into the alley and stood knowingly on watch towards the end, knowing full well what Wire wanted as the tall man put you back on your feet and rested his trident against the building. “Wire?” You asked hesitantly as he spun you to face the wall, “Oh,” you squeaked as he pushed his growing erection against your ass, pulling your hips away from the wall so he could unfasten your shorts. “Right here?” You questioned nervously, looking at all the people passing by at the end of the alleyway as he worked your shorts and panties down till they pooled at your ankles.

“Right here,” Wire confirmed, “you said you could take it, right? Don't come bitching to me if I hurt you.”

“You won't,” you replied confidently, the allure of being fucked in such a public area already making you wet. Wire grinned coyly as he pushed his fingers between your legs and felt your arousal.

“Dirty whore,” he purred, “so fucking wet already, I bet you'd let me fuck you in the middle of the street if I wanted.”

He wasn't wrong, but you didn't have time to respond before you were biting back a moan as his long fingers entered you, going straight to two of them. Wire knew exactly what he was doing, zeroing in on your g-spot while his other hand reached around your front to play with your clit as he worked at stretching you. He found it surprisingly easy to work you open to a third finger, your slick coating his fingers as your pussy tried to suck them in. His fingers were so long he may as well been fucking you with a dildo, and with the added simulation on your sensitive bud and the risk of being out in public, barely hidden in the alleyway by a watchdog Killer, it didn't take long for your pussy to clench around Wire's fingers. Your knees shook as you came, clawing at the brick wall of the building you were pinned against with a choked moan.

“Good whore,” Wire hummed, removing his fingers from your cunt and wiping them on your shirt, “now get on your knees bitch, this dick isn't gonna suck itself.”

Wire let go of your leash but as it landed he stood on it purposefully, pinning it beneath his boot and forcing you downwards by your collar. Your panties were still around your ankles as you knelt, and your mouth watered as Wire unfastened his tented shorts, pulling his impressive cock free.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as you set your eyes on it. He wasn't fucking around, he was big. There was no fucking way you could take all of him in your mouth, and you had doubts that he'd be able to fit all of it inside you either.

“Change your mind already?” Wire chuffed.

You pouted at him out of feigned hurt before eagerly bringing your bound hands up to grasp him, unable to reach a single hand around his shaft. You stacked them one above the other to cover as much surface as possible while your tongue came out to lick the head of his cock, running your muscle over the smooth skin and up the underside of his shaft, letting the tip of your tongue slide along the slit. You did what you could to try and fit him, barely taking a quarter of him in your mouth before you were gagging, the corners of your mouth stinging from the stretch. Wire took your hair and wound it around his wrist to hold your head, making shallow thrusts into your warm mouth that made your eyes water as he pushed even deeper.

“There's a good whore,” he praised, “gag on it sweetheart, let me see those pretty tears.”

You took as much as you could into your throat, unable to take more than half of him even as your throat bulged and you struggled to control your gag reflex. There was no hope of breathing with him in your throat, his cock so thick that you felt like you were truly choking. He was clearly used to this though, giving you plenty of opportunity to catch your breath while drool ran down your neck.

“That'll do,” he said flatly, like he was bored, “stand up and take your shorts and panties the rest of the way off.”

You obediently did as he asked, noticing as you stood how people walking past would occasionally stop and try to watch, quickly deterred by a quick threatening whizz of Killer's punishers to encourage them to move along. You slipped your shorts and panties past your shoes and Wire picked you up like you weighed nothing, wrapping your legs around his hips and holding you far off the ground with your back pinned to the alley wall. His heavy cock was pinned between your stomachs as he rut the base of it against your mound. You whined in need, trying to roll your hips to rub your clit against him.

“Last chance,” Wire warned, “it's not too late to admit defeat “

“Give it to me,” you begged, “please Wire, fuck me, I want your massive cock stretching me open.”

“Alright then,” Wire smirked, pleased with your begging, and lifting you higher to line his tip up with your slick entrance, “don't say I didn't warn you.”

He watched smugly as he sank you down on his cock and your face contorted as you bit back the urge to scream. The stretch was almost too much, but it wasn't the first time you'd experienced such a large intrusion, having dildos back home that were about his size. Soon the pain melted to pleasure, but as you had guessed, he was unable to sheath himself entirely before you were gripping his shoulder painfully tight, warning him that you'd hit your limit as his tip bullied against your cervix.

“Fuck, look at you,” Wire praised, leaning back a little so he could admire the way your abdomen bulged. No human could take all of him, but he was thoroughly impressed with how much you had managed to take. “What a good girl, I'm gonna enjoy ruining this cunt.”

Not wanting to waste his time, he started a brutal pace, your overstuffed cunt making obscene sounds as Wire made quiet grunts and used you. You looped your bound wrists over his head and clawed at his back, burying your face in his cloaked shoulder to muffle your moans as your body was bounced up and down. You would no doubt have scratches all over your ass after this from the brick wall, overly thankful that he'd at least let you keep your shirt on to protect your back from the rough surface. Wire's hands holding you by your ass at least protected you a little. With his body so close to yours there was a slight grind against your clit every time he thrust up into you, raising and lowering you in time with his movements to get as deep as he could, showing off his incredible strength and control as he continuously avoided smashing into your cervix. The way he stretched and filled you meant every sensitive spot inside you was being rubbed against, your entrance stretched to its limit around him. With all that stimulation it didn't take long for him to have you close to your peak again, crying into his shoulder at the overwhelming pleasure as he used you like a ragdoll.

“Mmmph,” you mumbled into his shoulder, leaving a wet patch on his cloak from your combined tears and drool, “cu-cumming!”

There was a pattering of fluid hitting the concrete pathway below you as you gushed on Wire's cock, and you let out a stuttered whine that caught the attention of a few passersby that Killer had to clear away. “Good girl, mouse,” Wire praised, not letting up for a moment, still chasing his own high, “gonna cum soon too.”

Wire pulled out and put you back on your feet, pulling your arms over his head to unhook you but holding you under an armpit to keep you upright, unbelievably shakey on your legs from the hard orgasm. He pulled up your panties up most of the way with his other hand before jerking himself off, cumming with a grunt into the gusset of your underwear. The hot white fluid was thick against the fabric and you whined as he pulled your panties the rest of the way up, making the fabric stick to your cunt. He pulled up your shorts as well, fastening them before throwing you back over his shoulder. He spanked your ass as he made his way out of the alley, but you were too tired to respond, now truly looking like a hunted deer as you went slack over his shoulder.

“We're done here,” Wire stated as he passed Killer. The shorter man huffed a short silent laugh and followed on behind, not at all surprised to see you had already fallen asleep on Wire's shoulder.

[Next Chapter]

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[platinumrosetail]

Okay so could I request Adam, Poseidon, Loki and Shiva with a mischievous god reader that acts like the Cheshire cat he basically has his disappearing power thingy?

Also if you're fine with it can you make him a cat-human hybrid?

Sure! The Cheshire Cat is my favorite from Alice and wonderland! Though it’s been a while since I last seen Alice in wonderland so some things might be wrong so I’m sorry for that but I’ll try my best to make it as in character as possible.

Warning: noob author, male reader, and others.

Characters: Adam, Poseidon, Loki, shiva.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam:

You were a cat like god with a mischievous personality almost like Loki but less destructive and more in a fun pranking way as well as giving out riddles for fun to confuse your guest when they show up.

So it wasn’t a shock that you decided to play a playful little prank on the father of humanity though what you didn’t know was that he saw this coming, he copied your disappearing ability and teleported behind you spooking you in the process.

You of course was shocked at first before a big grin appeared on your face, amused at how the tables had turned on your little failed attempt of a prank on the father of humanity.

That was how both of you met, you two spend some time together afterwards though it’s usually you the one talking, whether it be about pranks and how they went or possible riddles to give to others you also give some to Adam but it’s more the ones that he can solve a bit easier instead of left confused on what you mean when you give riddles to other.

You usually lay on his lap when you’re not busy pranking or doing something else that requires your attention.

he pets your head and give little scratches behind your ears making you purr at the nice feeling.

Adam finds it cute that you’re cat like and has fun seeing how cat like you were with the help of inventions his children has created for cats to use and play with, you noticed it and decided to humor him though you soon came to found out that the cat toys are very fun to play with which made you like humans more for creating them, that made Adam proud of his children more than before especially on how it made your cute and docile as well as more tamed and not planking anybody as much.

Poseidon:

You had pulled a pranked Poseidon that ended with him covered in in mud and chicken feathers, you quickly put the blame on Loki, thankfully you can disappear and tun invisible and escape out of trouble but unfortunately for Loki he now has the wrath of the god of the sea trying to skewer him with his trident as he was the closest when it happened and it doesn’t help that he has a bad reputation when it comes to pranks more so than you do.

You like to hang around Poseidon even though many suggest you shouldn’t as he would kill your soon enough but you always declined that with a riddle like answer.

You mostly appeared in your vat form that you have as he actually gives your pets and scratches while in that form.

You mostly nap in that form on Poseidon’s lap but when you’re in your more human form you begin to tease him.

Poseidon didn’t want to admit to it but he found you cute especially your full cat form which was half why you weren’t a corpse yet.

Poseidon usually make empty threats which you would laugh at as you knew that he loved you too much to do that though he did say that was your words and not his which you also knew was false.

You lightly prank him and surprisingly enough he does prank about which in turn makes you tease him some more after that, you just hope it’s not revealed that you were the one that pranked him instead of Loki as you knew that would get you in so much trouble with Poseidon, what you didn’t know was that he already knew.

Loki:

You and Loki are both very similar though only you give out riddles to prank people along with prancing people the normal; as normal as a god’s prank can get, way.

You and him both prank as many gods as you can without getting into too much trouble for it but there are some instance where either one of your or both of you get in trouble;le by one of the older gods; mostly being Odin, though Loki surprisingly tries to take the blame for you even though you never asked him to.

Both of you try to get the other out of trouble if one of you get caught and punished; which usually is basically a timeout, and so the other makes a plan to help break the other out of timeout, sometimes leading both of you getting timeout for longer than before if the one helping the other escape get caught in the act of trying to break the other out.

You like to go in your cat form and have Loki scratch and pet you, sometimes he’ll even turn himself into a cat along with you for fun and so he can see what it’s like to be a cat as well.

You sometimes give riddles for Loki to solve for fun, you give him hard ones as it’s fun seeing him. Frustrated after still not getting the right answer to the riddle which sometimes is a very common answer to the riddle, you also say no to the answer he gives even though it’s right and later revealing that he had got the answer right after all.

That leads you to being playfully chased by Loki who wants to give payback for that but he can hardly catch what with your ability to disappear and teleport.

Shiva:

You met him through Rudra who wanted you to meet his childhood friend shiva and shiva to meet his new friend that he met while traveling.

You interested him what with your powers of disappearing and reappearing with a big grin and your cat like features.

You like to prank him which results in a prank war with all three of you as well as other gods as well.

What with him having two pairs of arms make it soon becomes a paradise of pets when you’re in your full cat form as he has multiple hands to get at all of your favorite spots to scratch and pet at the same time.

You give him riddles all the time as he gets frustrated with what the answer could be if he gets it wrong.

You like to watch him do his dances and relax, sometimes rudra likes to come and join to relax and dance with shiva.

Shiva would join you when you take naps whether you’re in your cat form or human form, but you always find yourself cuddling next to him when you wake up close to him.

(A/n: hope y’all liked it! I don’t think i have anything else top say so hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!!)

[ladylokianna]

My father's daughter

Pairing: no one, basically Aemond being a dad (and a husband).

Warning: nothing serious i guess. A bit of swearing, an obviously ooc Aemond being a protective dad, Vhagar being a protective great–grand mother, fluff.

AU oneshot in which the brotherly Aegond bond is based on the book and in which Aemond killed Daemon.

Introducing some of my Ocs, of which i'm very proud: Aerenys, his wife, and four of their seven children.

(Aemond here is around 36 years old, his daughters, two ocs of mine, are 16 and 11. Aegon, Daeron and Granny V involved.)

Words count: 3,6 k

A/N: i've checked it countless times, but if there were any mistake, i'm sorry in advance.

Translation from HV:

Kirimvose : thank you

Iksā gevie, kepa: you are beautiful, dad

"Can't we do without it?"

"Shhh!!! Can you please be quiet? If he wakes up, we're in trouble!"

"We'll be in trouble anyway."

Holding tightly the satchel, the younger of the two girls nodded, watching her older sister sneak into her parents' chambers through the secret passageway, the one immediately next to their bed: leaning in a little, she barely caught a glimpse of his hair, hearing his relaxed and regular breathing, hoping he wouldn't wake up just then.

Asterya tried to focus hoping to quickly find what she was looking for even in the darkness of the room: on the low table as well as on the dresser there was nothing but maps and notes, and rummaging again through the drawers was out of question.

Damn, why hadn't she thought of that before?

A sudden rustling from the bed made her freeze on the spot, but fortunately her father had only rolled over in his sleep. And that's when she saw it on the nightstand.

Mornings like those, in which the cold breath of winter had given way to spring sunshine, were ideal for training, or for riding.

Ser Emeric walked out into the large courtyard in front of the huge gate, ready to take up duty after the night watch, just in time to see someone rushing out of the gate: it was not uncommon to see the prince going out for an early morning ride, usually preceding a long patrol over the city on his dragon, so he paid no particular attention to it.

Wandering his eyes over the sky, tinged in the vibrant hues of the dawn, he released a sigh: what a nice morning it was.

What a fucking morning it was.

Ser Emeric swallowed hard before stopping in front of the double door of the Council room, uncertain whether to knock or not. Behind the intricate carving of the wood, his worst nightmare.

"Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck, no, i can't do it."

Of all the things that could have happened during his shift, that was definitely the worst since he began his journey as a White Cloak, and now he also had to report it to the most fearsome man in the realm, the same man he tried to avoid with all his strength.

Prince Aemond.

The former Regent, the Terror of the Trident, the man who killed the infamous Daemon Targaryen.

He knocked three times with a lump in his throat: he could be dead before the sunset, hanged at the Keep's wall by his own guts like a common thief or feeded to a dragon –or worse, feeded to his dragon– and in all of this, he was only twenty and yet to live.

What a fucking death, eaten by that damned beast...

"Come on in." answered the king.

Once inside, his eyes turned immediately to Aemond, while Aegon looked up on him, settling aside for a second the parchment in his hands.

"What is all this fuss? Oh, good morrow Ser Emeric."

His sight was darting from Aegon and Daeron, to Aemond. The first two sitting at the table, the latter standing next to a window, scanning the outsides, seemingly indifferent to his presence.

Aegon saw him swallowing in discomfort, droplets of sweat running down his forehead.

"What's the matter?"

"I... i have... i have to speak to... i have to speak to his... his highness." Ser Emeric stuttered. The poor guy cleared his throat, wincing when Aemond turned to him, inquisitive and menacing even if he was dead silent as always.

"Then speak! Did the cat got your tongue?" Aegon followed his sight, noticing the gaze Aemond had been giving him since he turned. "Uuh, i see."

His brother's gaze, already intimidating in his youth, had worsened with the age.

"The... the princesses, your highness."

Aemond arched an eyebrow, his good eye still staring at the guard.

If i survive this, i swear i'll...

"Which ones are you referring to?" asked Aegon, leaning back and crossing his hands over his stomach, amused. Aemond did not seem to share the same opinion: he finally ignored the courtyard, crossing his hands behind his back in his usual manner, clearly annoyed.

"You may have not noticed, but i'm everything than patient." his tone, cold and scoffed, made the poor guard to tremble again.

"In the name of the Seven, Aemond, let him speak. To which princess you are referring to?"

"I'm... ehm... i'm referring to princess Asterya and princess Alicent, your grace."

Although he did not have a favourite among his children, it was obvious to everyone that his daughters were his weak point, the lights of his life: Asterya, his second born but his first daughter, was the one with whom he shared the deepest bond: skilled with swords and daggers, excellent with the High Valyrian, a proficient student of history and philosophy. Basically, as his wife loved to say, his female counterpart.

Her twin sister Helaenys was the opposite: calm and poised, she loved indulging in Helaena's company and was as good at embroidery as she was at throwing daggers.

Arianne, named in honour of a maternal cousin who died in infancy, loved to dance and did so whenever she could, especially with her uncle towards whom she had, reciprocated, a sincere affection: Aegon had taught her to shoot with a bow and she had an excellent aim.

Alicent, the youngest of his seven children, was born with the same characteristics as her paternal grandmother (even if her twin brother was born with hair and eyes like a Targaryen) and named after her in her honour; she possessed a crossbow and like her siblings she was a skilled dragon-rider and above all, like Asterya, highly intolerant of rules.

His most beloved children, although Aemond would never admit it, even under torture.

"My daughters what?"

"The princesses are… are nowhere to be found..."

And here it is, that gaze: even without his left eye, Prince Aemond was intimidating as hell.

Please Gods, please give me a fast and painless death. Fast, at least.

"Ah, here's who got your eye patch, Aemond. This is a fortress, for fuck's sake, what do you mean they're nowhere to be found?" replied Aegon.

"What about the armory, or the kennel?" interjected Daeron, sensing the storm approaching.

"No, my prince. They're not at all in the castle..."

"For how long now?" was Aemond's question, interrupting Ser Emeric.

"A stable boy noticed them on your horse during the last changing of the guard..."

The last changing of the guard had taken place shortly after dawn, Aemond reasoned, hours before. Five, at least.

"You're telling me that not just one, but two of my daughters vanished from the Keep several hours ago and you are warning me only now, after all those fucking hours?"

In those hours, needless to say, he had searched for them in every wing of the castle, on every patrol path, in every niche. Ser Emeric looked away from Aemond, who began to mutter something in a language he cannot understand: something unpleasant for sure, judging by Aegon and Daeron's faces.

"I'm going to kill someone today, i can sense it...and it's not even midday, imagine that."

Aegon cleared his throat, trying to think up quickly a way to placate his brother before he could lose his temper, looking at his dominant hand already clutched on the hilt of his omnipresent sword, ready to draw it.

"Wi... with your permission, i'll... i'll leave immediately in their search."

"Yes, wise decision. I also send Ser Criston in search of the girls." Aegon nodded.

"No way." stated Aemond, fuming, feeling the headache already pounding in his skull. "You barely manage to find your cock in your trousers, let alone my daughters. You're dismissed, but i can assure you, Ser Emeric, we will talk about it later."

Ser Emeric did not make himself repeat it twice: he walked out of the council room as if he had The Stranger himself on his heels, leaving the three men alone.

"Woah, what was that?"

"Hm?"

"Who taught you to talk like that? I'm amazed, little brother!"

"Oh, shut up."

"Can i count on you for a healthy drink in my quarters after supper? Let's talk a little, come on."

"You know i'm not much of a drinker nor a talker, right?"

"Who cares? I'll drink and talk... and you'll listen."

"There will be no dinner for me if i don't get my girls home before Aerenys is back: i already know she'll kick my ass."

His wife had been away to her native castle for a fortnight due to family matters and she would return that afternoon with Helaenys and Arianne: with all the days to get into trouble, his daughters had decided to do it on the very day she returned to the keep.

"Don't worry, brother, they are smart, they have certainly avoided any danger."

"Daeron... you have spoiled my girls too much and here's the results."

"Like you haven't done the same since before they were even born."

"He's right, you know? And i wouldn't worry about your ass if i were you: Aerenys likes it too much, she won't do anything to you. And you'll see that the girls will be home in no time. You know, if it weren't for the fact that your faithful wife has always only had eyes for you and that Asterya is practically your female version –poor girl–, you'd say she's more my daughter than yours: what a temper she has. Well, indeed she's my niece."

"May the gods be merciful, that's the last thing i need." Aemond replied, taking his leave in between Aegon's laughs.

He summoned Ser Criston and a bunch of his most trusted guards.

"Ser Emeric told me they thought it was you, my prince." Ser Criston explained. "We questioned the stable boy and he says that she wore your clothes and she moved like you, she even mounted your horse like you do. Nobody asked her to remove the hood, they were sure it was you."

A frustrated groan escaped Aemond.

"It is beyond serious if they cannot tell a grown man from a sixteen year old girl." huffed upset. "My daughter is visibly shorter and thinner than me."

"As i say, no one dared to check under the cloak, my prince."

"We'll talk about this later. As for the guards, they have to pray that nothing has happened to my daughters or they will answer directly to me." warned Aemond. Once on the saddle, he noticed everyone in the courtyard were looking at him, and with a sudden gesture, he lowered the hood of his cape. "So you know who are you getting out of the keep. Now open the gate."

Aemond pulled the reins suddenly forcing the horse to stop almost abruptly: at its protests, he leaned in to give two affectionate pats as if to apologise.

"Have you seen something, my prince?" questioned Ser Criston, turning back and flanking him, peering in his own direction.

In the heat of the moment he had not thought of Vhagar: she was not in her usual place. She usually liked a certain spot near the water, surrounded by trees but wide enough to allow her to move her wings as she wished, but he noticed that she had moved at least a hundred metres, which was unusual.

"Yes and no. I think i know where they are." after dismounting the horse, Aemond handed the reins to Ser Criston, with the order to return to the Keep. "Asterya surely left my horse somewhere near. I'm hoping to return with both of them before my wife's return or may the Gods be merciful with me."

He did not wait for Ser Criston to leave: he put on his hood again and walked through the trees. His horse was grazing peacefully in the shade of a tree, the reins secured to a sufficiently strong branch, and Vhagar was resting as usual: the air expelled through his nostrils was sufficient to stir the vegetation.

Smiling a little and approaching cautiously, he was determined to surprise his daughters without irritating his dragoness. Aemond reached out a hand and touched her: Vhagar opened her eyes wide, ready to incinerate anyone who dares threaten what she was protecting.

"Shh, it's me."

Her gaze immediately changed, and he heard her grunt, happy to see him.

"Hi baby." smiled Aemond, fondly stroking her snout. "Are my girls here with you?"

Indeed they were: Asterya walked barefoot on the shoreline, with only her tunic and her trousers -his trousers- gathered up to her calves to avoid getting them wet, while Alicent sat on the sand in the shadow of Vhagar's huge wing and had her back to him, reading aloud an old tales book in High Valyrian. On the ground, on a large blanket, Aemond recognised some of his clothes -his embroidered jerkin with the dragon shaped clasps and his cloak-, a couple of his books, a small basket with some leftovers and Asterya's boots.

"...i cannot decipher this last glyph." whined Alicent.

"How is it shaped?"

"It's like... it's like a chalice..."

"Rēko, rose." answered Asterya, without esitation.

Aemond smiled with pride.

"Kirimvose, my dear friend." he whispered shortly after, thanking Vhagar.

Both the stable boy and the guards were right when they say they mistook his daughter for him: dressed like that with her hair tied up like his, Asterya had all of them fooled. Perhaps she even would fooled him too.

They were right. Gods how he hated being wrong.

The icing on the cake was his usual eye patch -surely the thing Asterya had used to trick the guards- and the dagger he had gifted her for her tenth nameday, that she recklessly leaved near a book and out of her reach.

Careful enough not to be heard, Aemond found a way to sneak up behind Asterya, catching her by surprise and grabbing her by the waist with one arm. He intercepted her fist and easily stopped it, holding her so tightly she can barely move, finally revealing himself shortly after.

"Got you!"

Asterya stopped struggling as soon as she heard his voice, giving him a little slap on his arm in protest as he put her back down.

"Papa? For Gods' sake, what's wrong with you?"

Aemond smirked a little amused, but still angry, shedding his hood.

"Nice try with that fist, good job. You have to improve though."

"You scared her!" giggled Alicent, encircling his waist and resting her head on his stomach.

He smirked again, returning Alicent's hug and lowering his voice.

"Let's say it was my aim."

"How did you sneak so silently behind my back?" protested Asterya.

"Well, i'm quite seasoned than you, i trained you and i know exactly how you move. Besides, i told you countless times to not sneak out of the Keep, and yet you still disobey me. And what's worse, this time you brought your sister with you." Aemond retorts, returning the dagger to her. "This must stay always on you: you may not know when you have to use it, your life might depend on it. This time it was me, but what if there had been someone else in my place?"

"Vhagar would have protect us."

"What if she hadn't been there?"

"Papa, please, nothing's happened." sighed Asterya.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady. You always have an answer for everything, mh? Fine. You are grounded: you cannot fly with your dragon for at least two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"One for you, one because you took your sister with you. That seems like a more than reasonable amount of time, counting that your mother would confine you to your rooms. There are rules that exist for your safety too, sweetheart."

"But... you told me not to stroll around the city alone anymore, or to the woods, or alongside the river... and i didn't do it again!"

Gods, he still remembered that time she went to King's Landing with her older brother -both disguised as commoners- to the Kingswood with her dragon or worse, to the Blackwater river.

Better not think about it again.

"Good, since i don't want you to go to the city without someone."

"You disobeyed Grandma Alicent when you were little, i know it."

She was referring, most likely, to his attempts in the dragon pit and above all, to the Driftmark incident. She knew it so well, since it was a story almost as old as him.

"Yes, that's true. And i paid a far higher price than you will." Aemond admitted. There was no need to deny something so blatantly well knowed, not to his own daughter. With an istinctive gesture, he then removed his eye patch and the sapphire underneath shone in the sunlight: few had seen his wound, and until then his children had no idea how awful it was. Asterya gasped, then looked at it in astonishment, her eyes fixed not on the gem, but on the severed eyelids, how the lower eyelid had sagged a little, making it wider than the healthy eye, how the eyelids seemed like to bent inwards and how the eyebrow, also cut in two, no longer allowed hair to grow.

"Oh, papa..." she said, raising a hand towards his face, but she did not dare touch it, only merely looking at it. "Has mama ever saw it?"

"We've been married now for eighteen years, she knows everything about me." he replied, stroking her head with a smile.

"Can i see it too, daddy? Can i touch it?"

Aemond bent down a little, allowing Alicent to look at him as well.

"Be gentle, it hurts more than usual today."

Asterya cleared her throat, feeling guilty for having brought back certain memories.

"Does it hurt a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes yes, sometimes i don't feel any pain." he answered, still bent towards the daughter.

"Iksā gevie, kepa." asserted Alicent.

"You are certainly far more beautiful than I am, my love, but thank you. Why don't you start collecting the books in the bag, sweetheart? I need to speak a little more with your sister."

"Are we going home already? Ugh!"

"Your mother's coming back, aren't you glad to see her? I personally can't wait, I missed her."

"Yes, but at home Septa Gwyn never leaves us in peace. Can we at least take a ride on Vhagar?"

"We'll see."

Aemond waited until Alicent had gone some distance before paying attention to his eldest daughter again.

"Why are you crying?" his good eye wandered over her face, trying to comprehend the reason. Then he hummed, understanding.

"Two weeks are fine, papa."

"Two weeks my dear, not a day more, i promise. I've made so much mistakes in my life and i've payed for all of them, but if losing an eye was and it still be a fair exchange for having Vhagar at my side, losing your mother or worse, you or one of your siblings is a price i will never be willing to pay for my sins. I can understand your craving for freedom, i really do. But you're a Targaryen princess, you're my daughter: if something ever occur to you because of my past, i could never forgive myself. You can always count on me if you want to stay alone for sometime, for i would accompany you everywhere, but my point is that it's dangerous to sneak out alone. You don't want your annoying father around you? I got it, but at least alert your brother, or your guard. Someone. You scare the hell out of me every time!"

"Sorry…"

"Few things more, Asterya, i'm not done: i've showed the secret passages to you and your siblings only for safety reasons and not for sneaking in my rooms while i'm sleeping. That book belonged to Aegon the Conqueror himself, and the sand might damage it so take good care. About this…" Aemond added, showing the eye-patch she took from his nightstand "...you can use my things, but not this. Anyway, i'll order the seamstresses to sew you comfortable clothes so that you no longer have to ransack my drawers to steal mine: it's not appropriate for a girl to do such things."

"I won't do it again dad, sorry."

Aemond tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek in a loving gesture.

"...your disguise would have fooled me too."

Asterya looked at him with a wide smile and with a deep affection in her eyes, hugging him tightly.

"You are not annoying." she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on his scarred cheek. "And i will not ask anyone but you to accompany me, you will always be my first choice, papa, i love you."

For a moment she was again the little five year old girl who used to sneak in his rooms during thunderstorms, with her wide blue eyes seeking for his reassuring hug.

Aemond kissed her forehead, returning the embrace.

"Want to join for a ride?"

[clannfearrunt]

theres something genuinely admirable about the confidence of Orb Character Artists. I'm having a bad time. How do they do it. They should still try other shapes I can't imagine what they could create if they stopped playing on Hard Mode

ive been trying to do some Design Exercises(tm). kirby designs r fucking hard but dear lord. I Understand the phenomenon of one million Orb With Anime Hair oc designs. what else is there for Orb

[achaoticeternal]

caught at a crossroads

prince regent!aemond targaryen x stark!reader

summary: while seeking safe passage down the Kingsroad to Dragonstone, you travels come to a halt. word count: 1.5k a/n: i would consider a part 2 if people are interested warnings: AFAB reader, mentions of violence and death

The journey thus far had been so silent with hardly any issues arising. Twelve men at your aid - six Stark men and six Queen's Guard - were ready to lay down their lives to safely deliver you to Dragonstone. After the eldest of Rhaenyra's sons came to call upon your brother in haste, an alliance was formed through the most sworn occasion. A marriage between the Queen's firstborn and Cregan Stark's only sister would tie your houses together.

Cregan and Rhaenyra had reached such a favorable outcome for the people whom they cared about most. Still, Cregan understood the dangers that came with swearing an oath to the Black council. If the Green's went North, he did not want you to fall into their capture. As such, an agreement was made that the young Lady Stark was welcome to reside on Dragonstone, within the sacred walls of House Targaryen.

Passage of the Kingsroad was a risk for anyone who dared to use. Miles of the path lived anarchic tribes that cared little for the proper laws of the land. With this in mind, the band of men were forged together to keep you safe from those on the road, and from those who would come to hear of the betrothal.

Already, your group had been riding for eight days, traveling south. They decided to avoid traversing the Westerlands, things swaying off the main road would do little to help if word ever got to King's Landing. It was better to take the faster route so that they could escort you quickly to proper safety. Instead, your path would take a slight risk. You would cross over the trident and pass through the villages on the outskirts of Harrenhal.

Harrenhal and its neighboring lands had become greatly abused during the war. The entirety of the Riverlands had been battered and bruised with forests of ash becoming more regular by the day. It was rumored that Prince Aemond Targaryen had laid siege to the region in reaction to the loss of his nephew, Jaehaerys. If you could lay low and stay away from the rotation of troops that came through the area, the remainder of your journey would be guaranteed safety.

At first, the ambush seemed to be nothing. Just a few bandits who were looking to start trouble. Yet when they drew blades of Valyrian steel, your guards had alerted you to seek cover. Metal crashed against metal, the sound echoing through the forest. Luckily, being a northern girl, you had some natural knack for survival. Swiping a jagged rock off the ground, you first hid behind the cart your band had been traveling in.

From the position, you could see how furiously your enemies brandished their swords. The experienced men of the King's Guard had no issue holding their own against the fierce warriors. However, the youngest of the Stark men was the first to meet his fate as a guard slashed his throat open. A broken cry had escaped past your lips, watching the body fall to the earth below. You had recognized him as kin to your dressing maid, a good boy, now dead.

As another Stark man fell, you took this as a warning sign to advance further into the woods. Gripping the stone, you slunk away from the makeshift camp and towards a mixed assortment of oak and evergreen trees. The candle in your lantern would soon be snuffed out by its own wax, but it did aid to light your path. Behind you, more men continued to fight and fall. However, huffs of aggression and assertion echoed towards your ears. The enemies were advancing.

"The scouts said there were thirteen," A voice barked out, "Find the last man. We must know what the Black's are planning."

Quickly, you moved behind the trunk of a large oak tree and immediately blew out your candle. There was just enough bush to keep you covered unless someone was searching intently or you gave any sign. If you stayed silent, maybe they would brush over you.

However, you heard the grunts of one of your guards, his gravely voice panting as you heard him being drug down the road, "Who is your final man? Where were you going?"

A low chuckle resounded from his chest, "Queen Rhaenyra's army is growing, and soon she will march on King's Landing and the Usurper."

As you went to peak upon the seen, you heard the sound of a sword being drawn and plunged through the guard's neck. Now all your guards were dead. You were alone in the Riverlands. Alone in the Riverlands with a two-day journey to Dragonstone ahead of you. If you could make it through the night.

Footsteps filled the area surrounding where you kept hidden. The width of the tree and the bush serve you well to keep you hidden in the dark of the night. With baited breath, you remained on edge, hoping they would soon give up.

"Ser Cole," A guard called out to his superior, "We have reason to believe the thirteenth traveler is a woman. If the raven from this morning is true, then I believe it could be-"

"I'll alert the prince," The other man replied shortly.

Nearly an hour passed with little disruption. Only the chittering of the forest kept you company. That was until a sinister voice echoed through the trees.

"Little wolf... Where are you hiding?"

So they were fully aware of who you were, but they still didn't know where you were hidden.

"C'mon, little wolf, if we don't catch you here, we certainly will before you are ever able to reach Dragonstone."

The voice held some familiarly to you. Though deeper and more confident, the rhythm and tone reminded you of just a few years ago. Your first and only visit to the Capitol.

It had been the King's 65th name day had approached and your father had decided that the three of you would all take the journey to King's Landing. While visiting, you had the honor of meeting the King's children from his second wife. His eldest son, Aegon, and his sister-wife, Haelena, the youngest, Daeron, and lastly, the owner of the current voice...

Prince Aemond Targaryen

"The hunter has become the prey it seems..." He called out to you once more, "It's been quite a few years, little wolf, won't you do me the honor of reuniting?"

Your heartbeat began to increase, hammering against your chest. Part of you feared that he could hear it pumping in your chest, or even the panting of your uneven breaths.

Silence returned to the wood, and you knew it might be your only opportunity to move until morning. As you moved to stand, a twig crunched beneath your boot. A moment later footsteps could be heard running in your direction. It was time to act, time to find a nice place to hide. Your feet carried you quickly and lightly through the forest floor, the feeling similar to chasing your brother through the Godswood as children. A feeling of hope grew in your chest...

Only to be crushed when a sword glinted in the moonlight. You came to a scathing halt as Aemond stepped out from behind one of the trees. His platinum hair and sapphire eye reflected bits of pale light as he observed your movements, "Ah... Lady Stark..."

"Prince Aemond," The lady quickly straightened her posture.

The man sheathed his sword as he approached the lone Stark lady, "Seems you haven't heard the news, it's Prince Regent, now. Though you would know that if you were where you belonged in Winterfell."

"I-" You attempted to stutter out.

"Yes?" Aemond smirked, knowing that he had you practically cornered, "Well, my lady, it seems you should come with me. It is dangerous for a Lady like yourself to be unaccompanied on the King's Road."

Aemond stepped forward which in turn caused you to take a step back. His smirk only remained at this behavior from you, the excitement of it all getting to him. Another step forward and he snatched one of your wrists in his large, callused hand. He tugged you forward to keep you close and minimize your attempts to run.

"I have a promise of safe passage, it's... it's a royal decree," You stuttered out as his glare only continued to intensify, "I have the right to go to my intended destination."

In an instant, his smirk fell quickly, "Your intended destination or your intended betrothed?"

Everything began to piece together as he continued, "That's right, my lady. I received word this morning that a dozen Stark men and traitors were seen along the Kingsroad escorting a young woman. This news arrived shortly after news about my Strong nephew's marriage approached, I simply connected the dots. But it's alright, little wolf, you are now a welcome guest at Harrenhal."

Your head shook at his words, "No, no, I-"

"It wasn't an invitation," Aemond quickly interjected as he pulled you closer, "By royal decree of Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen, you are my guest until I see fit to dismiss you."

[uswntpoc]

Triple Espresso, The Trident, Triple Trouble, The Holy Trinity. Whatever you want to call them, THEY 👏🏾 DID 👏🏾 THAT 👏🏾!!!