I feel so ancient when I tell my friends I use tumblr instead of Wattpad or ao3 and they proceed to ask me “what is that??” 😭Afterwards of explaining I try to put them on and they try it then tell me it’s not for them or don’t even give it chance like BROO YOU GUYS ARE MISSING OUT!!!
໒꒱ crush!clarisse who has a secret crush on reader, however clarisses interactions with reader tend to come of as rude instead of an obvious crush.
𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒. She hated the way her grip tightened on the leather strap of her shield whenever you stepped onto the field. Hated the way her shoulders locked, like her armor had fused to her skin. Hated how her brain the same brain that could track three opponents at once and predict their attacks went stupidly blank when you looked at her.
This was not how a daughter of Ares was supposed to function.
Crushes were weaknesses. Distractions. Soft things that got you killed. Clarisse was new to this. Not the fighting. Not the bruises. Not the winning. But this? This stupid, humiliating, heart-pounding crush on you. She didn’t even know when it started. Maybe it was the first time you didn’t flinch when she challenged you. Most people avoided her. Most people backed down. Most campers did. They laughed nervously, dodged eye contact, suddenly remembered urgent errands when Clarisse stepped into the ring. You didn’t. You met her stare like it was just another obstacle to clear, not a storm about to break.
She told herself it was respect. Just respect. It had to be.
You were smart. That was the worst part. You watched. You learned. You adapted. Clarisse prided herself on unpredictability brutal feints, sudden pivots, raw force used at the exact right moment. But you… you read her. Not like a book. Like a battlefield. You anticipated her strikes before she committed to them. Slipped out of traps she hadn’t even finished setting. Countered moves she’d spent years perfecting. You knew exactly when she’d feint left. When she’d lunge. When she’d get reckless.
It definitely wasn’t the way her chest did something strange and tight the day you were at archery practice and a curl slipped loose, falling across your forehead as you aimed. It irritated her. It fascinated her. And it definitely didn’t help that you were unfairly beautiful while doing so. she noticed the exact set of your shoulders when you drew a bowstring. Clarisse had stopped mid-step. Just stopped.
The world narrowed to the line of your arm, the steady inhale in your chest, the focus in your eyes.The arrow released. It split the center of the target. Clarisse forgot how to breathe. She told herself it was the shot. It was not the shot. She’d been watching you. She hated herself for it. The arrow you shot hit dead center. But from where Clarisse stood, it felt like it went straight through her chest instead.
The day it happened, the air was thick with late afternoon heat. Dust clung to her boots. The ring buzzed with noise from other campers, metal clanging, voices shouting, the usual chaos of training. She barely heard any of it.
Sparring had started like always aggressive, loud, competitive. She’d charged. You’d countered. She’d underestimated you for half a second. And that half second was all you needed. Next thing she knew, she was on the ground.
Air punched from her lungs. Staring up at the sky. No not the sky. You. It should have made her furious.Instead, it made her want to fight you more. To understand you. To beat you. To prove she could still win. To see you look at her the way she kept accidentally looking at you. For a second, there was no sound. No movement. No world. Just shock.
She stared upward, stunned, the sky bright and endless above you.
You stood over her, chest rising with controlled breaths, sunlight spilling around your silhouette like some ridiculous heroic painting. Dust floated in the air between you, glittering in the light. Clarisse noticed everything.
The shadow your lashes cast on your cheeks. The loose strand of hair clinging to your temple.
The way your hand flexed around your weapon, then relaxed when you realized she wasn’t getting up immediately. Her heart slammed hard enough to bruise. From that angle, the sun was right behind you. It looked like it was shining just for you. The world had gone weirdly quiet. Clarisse could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she noticed everything the way your chest rose and fell, the way your brows furrowed, the small crease between them when you were worried.
“Are you okay?”
Your voice snapped her back into her body. That was the worst part. You weren’t laughing. You weren’t smirking. You weren’t bragging. You looked… concerned. You held your hand out to her. Clarisse stared at it like it was a trap.
Nobody offered her help. Nobody beat her and then checked on her. Most people would’ve celebrated. Teased her. Rubbed it in. You just wanted to make sure she could breathe.
That was worse than losing. You extended a hand toward her. No one did that.
Clarisse stared at your hand like it might burn her.
Her brain screamed at her not to take it. Pride clawed up her throat. Children of Ares did not accept help.
But her arm moved anyway.
Your grip was firm, steady, warm. You hauled her upright with surprising strength. For a split second she was close enough to see the tiny flecks of color in your eyes.
Too close. Way too close. Her face felt hot. Her ears rang.
Her face burned. She grabbed your hand and let you pull her up. Your grip was firm. Warm. Steady. For a second just a second she didn’t let go. She let go too quickly, dusting off her pants like the dirt was the problem and not the way her pulse was beating in her throat. Then the embarrassment crashed over her all at once. You opened your mouth. Probably to apologize. Which was ridiculous, because you had nothing to apologize for.
Clarisse panicked.
She stepped past you too fast, shoulder bumping yours as she stormed away. It looked deliberate.It felt like retreat. Her face burned all the way back to the Ares cabin. From your perspective, it probably looked like she was being a jerk. Like always.
From hers? She was fleeing.
Because if she stayed another second, you would’ve seen the red creeping up her neck. You would’ve seen how shaken she was. How completely undone she felt.
Other campers voices finally processing the situation could be heard.
“What's her problem?” readers sister muttered, stepping up beside you.
“I don’t know… I just tried to help her up,” you said, still watching Clarisse retreat.
“Well, that’s what happens when you try to be nice to a daughter of Ares. Especially Clarisse. I’m surprised she didn’t rip your head off.”
You gave a small huff. “Yeah. Me too.”
Clarisse didn’t turn around. If she did, you might see her expression. And that would be worse than losing. Because the truth was simple, humiliating, and completely unacceptable:
You’d knocked straight through her defenses.
And she had no idea how to fight something like that. But Clarisse wasn’t angry. She was wrecked. Because for the first time in her life, instead of feeling humiliated…she felt like she was falling for you.
request ! ❛ Luke with a bimbo gf </3 She loves sitting in his lap , and he always babies her I NEED (pls) ❜
warning ! bimbo!reader x actually sweet!Luke for once. Luke babies reader. reader is mentioned to be female. fluff. mention of food / eating. i tried. blurb-ish. not proofread.
"Open." Your lips automatically open at his words , immediately tasting the sweet juice of a strawberry Luke attentively placed on your tongue for you to eat. When you close your lips again , he coos , "There you go , baby."
"Thank you , Luke."
You‘re always so sweetly polite to him when he feeds you ! Patiently seated on your throne — being Luke's very inviting, very warm lap — you feel like the richest girl , being greatly taken care of by your boyfriend. As a son of Hermes , the boy is naturally nurturing ( he often helped or encouraged new or younger campers , but that also more than not includes his sweet and sometimes ditzy girlfriend ).
Luke doesn’t really mind when you would keep his lap warm , if anything , he thought of it as awfully endearing. How you would gravitate towards it like it was your own privately reserved seat. Which , honestly , it was !
A grin falls over his lips at your sweet little thanks , gently wiping the excess of the strawberry from the corner of your lips. He then slowly brings his thumb up to his own mouth, tasting the mix that was your now smudged lip gloss and the fruit. He hums, "Cherry?"
And oh , the action of him tasting you on his finger has your heart thumping in an erratic rhythm. Luke was so easily attractive in what he did , it was really just unfair !
Your boyfriend watches in amusement when a smile falls over your lips. You nod at his guess. It is his favorite flavor , and therefore also the one that always gets you the most kisses from him ! Obviously , you must have quickly applied it before leaving , hoping for his mouth on yours.
And maybe more ...
And just like you hoped , he firmly ( but gentle ) grabbed your face with one hand , practically squishing your cheeks together until your lips were puckered. With them plump and pouty , he could easily press his mouth against your own. Savoring your sweet taste right from the source.
Luke always kisses like he is trying to steal away your breath. Like some simple kissing just isn‘t enough for him anymore. He needs to breathe you , taste you. And he would deepen it so naturally that all your thoughts would just melt away , and then all you want is him , him , him.
When he moves his head away , you whine.
"We're not here to make out , baby." "Why not?"
Luke chuckles at your upset tone , and gently pats your cheek in a form of affection ( and maybe to soothe you ). "We’re at the lake , sunshine , remember?" Lake as in … others would see you … and that was gross. For them.
Then , when you huff at his answer — which you felt was dumb , and unsatisfying — your boyfriend leans a little closer again. A frown on his face when he notices the slightest hint of a sunburn on your skin. It was flush , and warm to the touch.
"Did you put on sunscreen , huh?" His words carries a hint of soft scolding , because , of course you didn’t ! Too up in your head to think about it yourself. And he honestly forgot to tell you too. Your pretty and empty head had been much too excited about going to the lake with him. Too eager to get to show him your flimsy little bikini ...
Which , don‘t get him wrong , he is more than grateful to be in the presence of what you shamelessly said to be a bikini. But the care for your health — yeah , even something as simple as just your skin ! — greatly outweighs the joy of what you‘re wearing for him.
He sighs a bit disappointed when his fingers graze your nose , the bridge of it already clearly burned.
And your little piece of fabric did honestly nothing to shield the rest of your body from the relentless sun glaring down on you , too. Great.
"S‘ not that bad," you shrug , and Luke rolls his eyes in return. Because of course you would think that it‘s not that bad.
"You take hours getting ready , baby," he immediately grabs the small expensive bottle of La Roche 50 SPF from your bag — which he thankfully remembered to pack ! Why you need such an expensive sunscreen , he doesn't really know , but you claim it doesn't disgustingly stick to your skin for hours . . . so , anything to make you feel comfortable , i guess.
"Hours , Baby. But then you forget the most important step."
And he is so gentle when he spreads the cream over your nose , your cheeks , and collarbone. The citrusy smell immediately reminding you of summer , the beach , and rolling in the sand with Luke. You hum , happily letting his hands run all over your body.
He is right . . . you sometimes do take hours getting ready.
Night routine , morning routine , middle of the day routine . . . , Luke could name them all. He even knows what products you use for each. Because he loves you , and he cares , and you literally yap about it at least once a week , conspiring which of your mountains on products made your skin flare up.
He tells you that you don't need all of that , of course. But it's also endearing how you would preen , literally presenting yourself to him , freshly washed after an everything shower . . . because you think it makes you more desirable , when , honestly , Luke would bend you over no matter the shower . . .
But your boyfriend appreciates the effort and the thought that goes into it , nonetheless !
When he's sure you're properly protected from the sun , he kisses your neck. "You fine staying here?" "The lake?"
Luke chuckles , his arms becoming the slightest bit tighter around you. "My lap , pretty girl." When you start frowning , he kisses your neck again , nuzzling the back of it.
2087
gracieabrams
jimmyeatworldofficial
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