Record Of Ragnarok: Obsessed Poseidon X Reader

chap 20- Dance

"Damn kid." He rested you on the wooden floor. Cigarette in mouth and a bottle of water in his hands he attempted to wash your face as they brought the watering hoes. Attention to clean you up as best as they could.

"Get her cleaned and dry. Get as many supply's before we leave."

He ordered his men as they washed your muddy body. His boots vibrated the wooden deck. The familiar sound brought anxiety to your soul. Jolting upright coughing out water and mud. Turning to your side you begin to vomit like crazy.

"Too much salt water.." your father mumbled under his breath watching Poseidon walk on water like some blessing entity.

"Stay here with her." He told the men and you while you were vomiting overboard.

Heading to the other end of the boat he watched Poseidon, a tall godly man, step foot on his ship's wooden floor. "Hate to tell you this. But you'll get dirty on this boat."

Insulting the God for his perfection and looks. Your father held no respect for someone who never worked in their life.

Poseidon looked down at your father watching him puff out a smoke towards the Gods chest.

"Filthy." Poseidon smirked at the word. No better way than to describe where he stood.  Raising his trident up ready to slice down at your father.

Your father kicked down a barrel full of cement as it rolled next to Poseidon.

"We don't play with forks here."
He lunged at Poseidon smashing his fist into the Gods gut then upper cutting him. As the barrel kept sinking deeper the rope that was tied to the end of barrel tangled onto Poseidon's leg.

"Dad!"
Poseidon stopped his attacked when he heard the sound of your voice.

Looking towards your direction his eyes widened seeing you fire a harpoon straight into the Gods chest. Looking straight into your eyes a smile swept upon his face. This warm feeling in his chest that bathed his body.

There was no hesitation you  harpooned Poseidon the Tyrant of the seas like a whale.

"Get off my boat!" Your father kicked Poseidon off the boat. Being drug beneath the ocean your father wasted no time to get the ship going.

--

"Get off me!!" With all the rage and adrenaline you attempted to punch the God but it was like hitting a brick wall.
Your punch was strong enough to shock him. It was a sudden sting that melted away like nothing. It didn't matter! Both your hands were completely shattered to the wrist.

Smiling widely his hands pushed you down by your shoulders attention to pin you.

"Don't touch me!" You screamed out.

--

"The cold darkness of the abyss is where we will find our home ." Your father's voice haunted you. "Make it so that you choose where your body rests."

He fought. Your father had fought his entire life. He never had time for you, you made time to be with your father. It was always you. You alone did everything. You alone who accepted death wanted to fight for your life.

Your father's words held meaning. You are in charge of yourself. No one else...

You will always be alone. But you will. E alive. You hold the memories of the people you met, they have meaning to you. Your crew was your family...

It's all gone..
----

Opening your eyes to find a bit more strength to fight. Shutting your hands tightly you shoved both thumbs into his eyes.

Coming off you he stumbled back for a bit as you got up trying to cover yourself with what little cloth from your dress hung on you.

Poseidon looked down at you as he stepped forward only to see you grab a glass gauntlet and shatter it on the side of the table. Holding a shard you held it out to him.

"You are cutting your palm." He said calmly but you could see it in his eyes. "Shut up! You disgust me! Don't ever touch me again! Don't talk to me!"

Shaking you were jumpy as he slowly made his way to your side.

Keeping your distance staring him in the eyes with the shard out he walked away staring at you.
Until he disappeared you stood there for a good amount of time before finally collapsing. Tearing out covered in blood with food on you and a torn dirty dress.

Curled up on the floor you remembered this feeling very well. You were in the same position as when you were trapped in the submarine.

Helpless. Weak. Waiting for someone or something. A glimpse of hope or light. Just something.

Looking at your bloody palm you stopped crying, closing your hand tightly. The pain was there but you were too numbed to care.

The frustration of being this weak.

The man in the black suit just played his music even louder as he passed you a napkin he danced in circles around you.

--