paring: clarisse la rue x daughter of apollo!reader
description: for years, you and clarisse walked a thin line between cheap taunts and open contempt. tired of being her favorite punching bag, you decided to pull away completely, you vanished from trainings, dodged every confrontation, stopped responding altogether. the silence broke her. without you there to provoke or challenge, clarisse’s rage exploded unchecked, turning the whole camp into a minefield. but during capture the flag, what started as a deadly fight between two furious souls, ended up becoming a moment of raw confession.
warnings: enemies to lovers; blood; insults; and a very hot kiss (english isn't my first language, sorry in advance!)
a/c: first of all, happy new year! and second, i've been stuck on this writing for over two weeks and only realized how long it had become when i finished, but i'm obsessed with this woman so i forgive myself for that. enjoy the reading!
--------
The summer afternoon at Camp Half-Blood was one of those that felt lazy and suffocating. The sun beat down hard on the lush green hills. You were sitting on the wide porch of cabin 7, leaning against one of the golden columns that gleamed as if Apollo himself had polished them. The wooden planks under your legs were warm from the sun, almost burning the skin through your worn jean shorts.
Your fingers fiddled absentmindedly with the string of a bow leaning beside you, winding and unwinding the thick cord, as if that repetitive motion could undo the tight knot you had felt in your chest for weeks. And it had a name.
Clarisse La Rue.
Just thinking the name made your heart give an annoying leap, an explosive mix of pure anger and a frustration that gnawed from within. She had been pursuing you like a stubborn shadow since the day you arrived at camp, with sharp provocations like blades, burning stares, pushes that seemed calculated to throw you off balance.
She labeled you "princess of the sun," as if being a daughter of Apollo were an unforgivable weakness, something soft and useless in a world of monsters and wars. And you always fought back. With cutting words, with constant presence in training, with a stubbornness that bordered on masochism. Because stopping would mean admitting defeat. It would mean she was right. But what gnawed at you the most was not just the anger. It was that treacherous confusion, a feeling you buried deep, but that surfaced in moments like this.
Sometimes, in the intervals between blows, you swore you saw something in her brown eyes, a gleam that was not pure contempt, an almost imperceptible hesitation before she turned her back and marched away. As if she were fighting against something she did not even understand herself. And that drove you crazy. Because you hated not understanding. You hated feeling that, deep down, those constant fights were the only thread connecting you both.
And it only got worse in that last training session.
The camp seemed swallowed by the storm. The sky was so low and gray that it gave the impression the clouds were touching the treetops, and the rain fell in thick curtains, almost solid, turning the training field into a living swamp. The tall grass had already become a slippery carpet of reddish-brown mud, and every step produced a wet, sucking sound.
The air smelled of soaked earth, wet iron, and wet pine, the classic scent of a bad day at camp. In the background, the colorful cabins looked like blurred ghosts through the water running incessantly down the roofs.
You were in the center of that chaos, sword in your right hand, the handle slippery even with the leather strip you had wrapped to improve grip. The orange camp t-shirt was stuck to your skin like a second cold layer, the fabric heavy with rain and sweat. Your hair clung to your forehead and cheeks, dripping water into your eyes with every blink. You had already lost count of how many times you wiped your face with the back of your muddied hand.
On the other side of the improvised combat circle, Clarisse seemed untouched by the rain. Water ran down the reinforced bronze armor, down the muscular arms, down the curly brown hair she wore tied in a tight ponytail, but even so not losing its volume. The electric spear hummed low, a sound almost inaudible under the drumming of the rain, as if the weapon were eager.
She held the shaft with the naturalness of someone born with it in her hands. There was no tension in her shoulders, no hurry in her feet. Just that predator posture waiting for the right moment.
"Ready for another round, princess of the sun?" her voice cut through the noise of the water, hoarse and low, loaded with a mockery that was already almost routine.
You did not answer with words. You just adjusted the grip on the sword, bent your knees to lower your center of gravity, and advanced.
This time, you were not as impulsive as in the previous weeks. You had spent the last nights training alone in the woods, repeating sequences that Luke taught you in the morning classes: high feint, low cut, wrist twist for counterattack. It was not enough to turn the tide against a daughter of Ares with a divine spear, but it was enough not to fall in the first seconds.
You faked a strong descending blow to her right shoulder. Clarisse raised the spear to block, exactly what you wanted. At the last instant, you twisted your wrist, changed the blade's trajectory to a horizontal cut at her left ribs. The movement was faster than previous times. The tip of the sword grazed the bronze of her armor, producing a hiss of metal being scraped.
Clarisse grunted, a short sound of genuine surprise. She stepped back half a pace, swung the spear in a wide arc to keep distance, and counterattacked with a low thrust, aiming at your thigh. You sidestepped, let the tip pass inches from your leg, and responded with an upward blow, targeting the forearm holding the spear.
Metal clashed. Blue sparks jumped from the point of contact, Ares's spear reacting to mortal steel. The impact traveled up your arms like a shock wave, but you held your stance, did not retreat. For the first time in weeks, you felt you were really fighting, not just surviving.
"Better," she admitted, voice neutral, almost as if commenting on the weather. But there was a new gleam in her brown eyes. It was not pity. It was interest.
You did not let the compliment go to your head. You advanced again, combining two quick cuts, one high, one low, to force her to defend in sequence. Clarisse blocked the first with the spear shaft, deflected the second with the tip, and twisted her body in a movement that seemed rehearsed. The spear shaft came like a lateral whip, aiming at your temple.
You ducked your head at the last second. The shaft whistled overhead, brushing the top of your head and pulling out some wet strands. The movement left you exposed for an instant. Clarisse did not waste it: she advanced with a direct thrust to the chest.
You crossed the sword in front of your body, blocking the spear with the flat of the blade. The impact was brutal. Your feet slid half a meter in the mud, your knees buckled, but you held. You pushed back, using leg strength to gain space, and counterattacked with a wide circular blow, targeting her shoulder.
She deflected with ease, but you saw it: the movement was a little slower than usual. She was really exerting herself now.
You circled each other for long seconds, breathing heavily, the rain hitting your faces like cold needles. The field around had gone silent, the other campers stopped pretending to train and formed a distant semicircle, watching.
You attacked again. High feint with the sword, followed by a low kick to unbalance. Clarisse jumped back, but the kick grazed her shin. It was not strong enough to hurt, but enough to make her frown.
"You've been training in secret," she said, almost like an accusation.
You did not answer. You just advanced once more, sword swinging in a descending arc that forced Clarisse to raise the spear diagonally to block. The clash was so strong you felt your teeth grind. But this time, when she tried to counter with the spear tip, you were already moving: you twisted to the side, let the thrust pass, and landed a shallow cut on her left arm, nothing deep, just enough to tear the t-shirt sleeve and leave a red scratch on the skin.
Clarisse stopped. Looked at the cut. Then at you.
For the first time in a long while, her face was not just a mask of indifference. There was something there, irritation, yes, but also a flash of reluctant respect.
You felt your chest rise and fall quickly. It was not victory. Far from it. But it was… something. Something that made the blood run hotter despite the freezing rain.
And then she attacked for real.
The spear became a blur. Quick, precise thrusts, forcing you to retreat, block, dodge. You managed to keep up longer than ever, dodged three, blocked two, counterattacked once. But Clarisse was a force of nature. In a movement you barely saw, she swung the spear shaft in a low arc, swept your legs with surgical precision.
The ground came up to meet you. You fell on your back in the mud, the air leaving your lungs in a painful whoosh. The sword slipped from your hand, sinking into the puddle a few meters away. You rolled to the side, coughing, trying to prop yourself on your elbows. Your whole body ached, ribs, shoulders, lungs, but it was not just physical pain. It was the weight of weeks accumulated, of showing up every day, of fighting back, of feeling that inexplicable pull that brought you back to her even when everything screamed to stop.
Clarisse stopped above you, spear pointed at the ground, drops running from the tip like metal tears. She did not speak right away. She just looked at you. Long. As if trying to understand something.
But you knew she had exhausted her sympathy for that day.
"Do Apollo kids get weak without sunlight or do you just fight badly?"
You lay there, in the cold mud, the rain pounding your skin as if Zeus himself were unloading his fury on the camp. The clay stuck to your back, cold and sticky, and every breath came in irregular puffs, your chest burning with exhaustion and humiliation.
Your hands trembled as they braced on the slippery ground, fingers sinking into the puddle, and you raised your gaze to Clarisse, teeth clenched so hard they hurt. Those words echoed in your head like a monster's echo in the labyrinth. As if you were just another joke, a second-class demigod who could not handle it without her father's shine to light the way.
Anger rose like bile in your throat, hot and bitter, mixing with the taste of rain and earth. You hated this, hated how she saw you, as if your affinity for bow and arrow made you useless in a real fight. Apollo kids healed, prophesied, shot from afar, but up close? In Clarisse's world, that was weakness.
And there, under the clouded sky that blocked any ray of sun, you felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the whole camp were watching your defeat. You knew the curious eyes were fixed on you both, the Ares bully and the Apollo daughter who could not defend herself.
"Do you think it's funny?" you spat the words, voice hoarse and broken as you struggled to stand.
Your knees buckled for a second, but you rose, ignoring the throbbing pain in your legs and the tingling in your arms. The sword lay a few meters away, half sunk in the mud, and you grabbed it with a quick motion, gripping the handle as if you could squeeze the frustration out.
"Using me as a damn punching bag since I got here." The frustration was noticeable in your voice. "I'm not your toy, Clarisse."
For a fleeting instant, something you almost missed in the rain blur, her brown eyes flashed with a glimpse of dissatisfaction, a subtle and imperceptible flicker, as if seeing you there, muddied, was not the trophy she expected. It was as if a shadow passed behind that armor of coldness, an echo of reluctance, as if humiliating you was not her choice, but a curse from Ares, the god who demanded victories at any cost.
She blinked, and the moment vanished, swallowed by the rain, leaving only the impassive bully as always.
"Then go back to your bow, sun daughter," she shot back, voice low and emotionless, raising the spear again to guard position. "Or keep trying. Does it make a difference?"
As you stood there, sword in hand, staring at Clarisse under the incessant rain that turned the training field into a muddy swamp, her words echoed in your mind like the clang of an anvil in Hephaestus's forge. Of course it made a difference, at least for you.
That rivalry had not arisen from nothing; it was like a wound that slowly infected, accumulating layers of resentment since the day you stepped into Camp Half-Blood. You gripped the sword handle tighter, ignoring the tremor in your arms, and for a second, old memories flooded your head, feeding the anger that kept you from retreating.
But you could not get lost in them now, not with the rain still falling and Clarisse waiting for your next move; you felt all that history weighing on your shoulders and your heart tightening.
"It does make a difference. For me, it does." Because no matter how much you did not understand the reason, you wanted it to make a difference for her too.
And then you let the sword slip through your fingers, following the flow of the rain running down your arms. Clarisse raised one eyebrow, for the first time showing a reaction different from the indifference you were used to seeing. The blade sank into the mud, and then, placing one hand over your ribs, you turned your back, starting to limp away.
But Clarisse would not let it go.
"Is that it? You're going to quit the fight like a coward?" her voice was loud, the hoarse timbre followed by a thunderous crash soon after.
You did not answer, your eyes narrowing as you struggled to stay steady in your walk. Legs weak, feet sticking in the mud as if it were there to increase your humiliation.
"Apollo daughter, I order you to come back! Pick up that sword and fight me." The shiver that ran down your spine made you stop the slow limping. You could hear the whispers of the other campers, all gathering around the commotion forming.
They must have thought you crazy for defying the orders of the Ares daughter, but you were tired. Not of Clarisse. Even against everything you believed, you would never tire of her, but you were tired of living this vicious cycle that led nowhere.
Then, turning slowly and painfully, your eyes met hers. They were sharp, disgusted, and fierce. Jaw clenched, fingers whitened around the spear from the force gripping it. It was anger.
"Find someone else, La Rue. I'm done." And with that, you left for good, bumping into some campers while hearing Clarisse's howls, the ones she shouted to the four winds about how you were a coward just like the other sun children.
You accepted the coward title she yelled at your back. Because, this time, giving up was not weakness. It was survival.
You let out a long, heavy sigh, throwing your head back against the warm column, eyes half-closed against the golden light filtering through the leaves of nearby trees. The camp was still dotted with some puddles that were slowly evaporating, and the distant sound of laughter and sword clangs in the training field echoed as a reminder that camp life went on, indifferent to your internal turmoil.
It was then that light but determined footsteps climbed the porch steps. You opened your eyes and saw Annabeth approaching, her braids tied in a practical ponytail. She carried a clipboard full of scribbled notes, strategies probably, because Annabeth never stopped planning.
Without ceremony, she sat beside you on the step, crossing her legs and observing you for a long moment with those stormy brown eyes that seemed capable of dissecting any puzzle.
You felt the air grow a little heavier. Annabeth was not the type to show up for small talk.
"You're making that face again," she said at last, voice low and direct, cutting the silence like a dagger. "Like you want to strangle someone with your bare hands. Let me guess: Clarisse?"
You snorted, a sound that came out more bitter than intended, and looked away to the distant fields, where tiny campers picked strawberries under the relentless sun.
"When do I not want to strangle her?"
Annabeth tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made you want to fidget, but you stayed still, fingers tightening the bow string harder. There was a long pause, the kind of silence that weighs, loaded with expectation.
"But never for real." She started slowly, choosing words as if building a perfect trap. "You know, I observe people. It's what I do. Strategy, patterns, weaknesses. And there's one thing about Clarisse that I can't ignore."
Your stomach twisted. You raised an eyebrow, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out tense.
"What? That she's an unbearable bully?"
Annabeth gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, but did not answer right away. Instead, she leaned a little closer to you, lowering her voice as if the air itself could listen.
"She provokes you more than anyone here. Way more. It's not just casual bullying. It's… obsessive. She shows up out of nowhere just to poke you. Watches you when she thinks no one notices. And when you fight back?" Her eyes gleamed with something between amusement and seriousness. "She seems… alive. Like that's the highlight of her day."
You felt heat rise up your neck, hot and treacherous, and crossed your arms over your chest as if you could contain the turmoil starting to form inside you. The sun seemed more intense suddenly, burning the skin.
"That's crazy, Annabeth. She does it because I'm an easy target. Apollo daughter, bow and arrow, healing… everything Ares kids despise."
"No." The word came firm, sharp, making you turn your face to her. Annabeth did not blink. "With others, it's quick. A shove, a threat, and she moves on. With you… she prolongs it. She invents reasons to meet you in the training field. She stays after everyone leaves, just for one more round. And those looks…" She paused, letting the words hang in the hot air. "It's not just hate. It's something she doesn't know how to handle."
Your heart beat harder, an irregular drumming echoing in your ears.
"What exactly are you insinuating?" You swallowed hard, feeling your throat dry despite the air's humidity.
Annabeth raised her hands in an innocent gesture, but the smile on her lips was sly.
"I'm not insinuating anything definitive. Just saying it might be an interest she doesn't know how to express. Ares kids are raised for war, for brute conquest. More… subtle feelings? They have no tools for that. So they turn it into fight. Into provocation. Into anything that keeps the person close. Instead of asking you for a walk in the woods… she knocks you down in the mud and calls you weak. It's her way of saying 'hey, you matter.'"
The words hit like an arrow to the chest. You felt the air escape for a second, the world around blurring, the sun, the distant sound of laughter. Everything reduced to that absurd, impossible idea Annabeth had just planted. Your face burned, and you let out a dry, forced laugh that came out strangled and too loud in the porch silence.
"Impossible," you said, voice sharper than intended, shaking your head vehemently. "Out of any consideration. Clarisse doesn't like anyone besides herself and the glory of battle. She's just a bored bully seeking attention. And I… I give her rope for it. I show up, I fight back, I stay there taking hits every day. That's why she insists. If I really ignored her, she'd get tired quickly and find another toy to break. And that's what I'm doing now."
The words came out quick, defensive, as if saying them aloud could convince her, and yourself. But Annabeth just watched you for another long moment, brown eyes penetrating, as if seeing through your armor of denial.
"Skipped training today?" She asked with narrowed eyes, and you looked away to your feet. "You know what Chiron thinks about you skipping sword practice."
"I know! But I just… need some time from Clarisse, away from her." Your answer was frustrated, your hands slapping your thighs nervously. "Because I know if she calls me I'll go, and I can't do that anymore."
The silence stretched, tense and heavy, the sun beating on your back like an additional weight. Finally, she shrugged, standing with fluid grace and brushing imaginary dust from her cargo pants.
"Maybe it'll work," she said, voice neutral, but with a tone suggesting the opposite. "But it's only a matter of time until she comes looking for you, because one thing I know: nobody spends so much time and energy trying to knock down someone who means nothing."
She descended the porch steps slowly, footsteps echoing on the wooden planks, leaving you alone once more. The sun continued relentless, the strawberry scent sweeter than ever, but now everything seemed distant, muffled by the buzzing in your ears.
You tried to laugh at the idea. Tried to bury it deep, as you did with everything that destabilized you. But deep down, Annabeth's idea terrified you. You just did not know in what sense.
[...]
The sun of the following morning rose lazily over Camp Half-Blood, filtering through the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the training fields. The air still carried the damp coolness of the previous night, mixed with the smell of dew on the grass and the distant sound of birds singing.
You were on the way to the training field, your feet sinking slightly into the still soft earth, the quiver of arrows bouncing against your back with every step. You knew you could not skip training forever, so you decided to end it once and for all.
After the conversation with Annabeth, and that seed of doubt she had planted, you had decided it was time to change. To pull away. To stop feeding it. But the process was slow, as if every fiber of your body still wanted to turn and face the challenge that Clarisse represented.
You saw her from afar, as always: standing in the center of the combat circle, the electric spear spinning in her hands as if she were bored, the curly hair tied in a ponytail with tight braids that could not tame all the rebellious strands. She wore the bronze armor, marked by old scratches, and her brown eyes scanned the field like a predator waiting for prey.
When she spotted you approaching, something changed in her posture, her shoulders straightened, her mouth curved into a short smile that was half mockery, half anticipation. Clarisse did not smile, except for this kind of smile. She took a step forward, blocking your path with the naturalness of someone who commanded the ground.
"Hey, princess of the sun," her voice came out hoarse, loaded with an authoritative tone you knew well. "Didn't show up yesterday… running from me? Let's double the bet, see if you learned anything from the last beating."
You stopped a few meters from her, feeling the sun hitting your back like silent encouragement. Your heart raced, but you swallowed the impulse to retort with a barb. Instead, you shook your head slowly, your voice coming out low and different from what you were used to.
"Not today, Clarisse." There was a brief but heavy silence, like the air before a storm.
Her eyes narrowed, the remnant of that smile dying on her lips. You saw the muscle in her jaw tighten, a subtle sign of discomfort that she rarely let slip. Clarisse was not used to refusals, especially not from you, who always showed up, always bit the bait.
"What?" She tilted her head, as if she had not heard right, stopping the spear spin and resting it on her shoulder, the low electric hum echoing in the air. "You heard me. Come on. Grab the sword."
The insistence came as expected, the tone sharper now, loaded with a frustration she tried to mask with authority. You felt a tightness in your chest, part guilt, part hesitant relief.
"No. Find someone else today." Without waiting for a response, you walked around her slowly, your feet moving with a deliberation that seemed forced, as if your body wanted to stay.
You headed to the adjacent archery range, where straw targets swayed lightly in the breeze, ignoring the weight of her gaze on your back.
Clarisse stood there for a long moment, her fingers gripping the spear shaft so hard that her knuckles whitened. She hated being ignored, hated the feeling of something slipping out of her control, like a battle turning for no apparent reason. But she pretended not to care.
She huffed loud enough for you to hear, turning to a group of nearby campers and barking an order for an improvised training.
"You there! Line up. Let's see if anyone here is worth anything." Her voice came out rougher than normal, but she marched away, pretending the refusal did not bother her.
Deep down, however, it burned, a spark she did not know how to extinguish.
The afternoon dragged on hot and stuffy, the high sun turning the dining pavilion into an outdoor oven. You were sitting at the table of cabin 7, the plate of salad and cheese almost untouched, the fork spinning absentmindedly in the food while your siblings chattered about the next capture the flag.
That was when Clarisse passed by your table, flanked by two Ares siblings who were laughing at some inside joke. She stopped abruptly, leaning over the table with one arm supported, the woody smell of her soap and metal invading your space.
"What happened to you, princess of the sun?" she said, voice low and provocative, eyes fixed on yours as if waiting for the usual spark. "Tired of taking a beating and decided to hide behind the bow like a coward?"
You raised your gaze slowly, feeling the old impulse to respond with venom rise in your throat. But you swallowed it, forcing a soft tone, almost neutral, as if commenting on the weather.
"Maybe. But I'm fine like this, thanks." No barbs, no anger. Just a tame response that slipped like water.
Clarisse blinked, the mockery freezing on her face for a second. She expected the fight, needed it in a way, to feel that things were in place. But there you were, responding without biting the bait, without giving the fuel she wanted. Frustration rose like bile, but she did not externalize it: she straightened slowly, her lips curving into that same forced smile that did not reach her eyes.
"Fine. Have fun with your little arrows." She turned and marched away, steps heavier than necessary, leaving an uncomfortable silence at the table. Deep down, it gnawed at her, as if you had stolen something from her without effort.
The following days passed in agonizing slowness, and you saw the effects seep into Clarisse in subtle ways, like slow poison. At first, it was almost imperceptible: during group training, she attacked with more ferocity than normal, the spear spinning in a blur that left opponents breathless.
But then came the first real explosion, during combat with an Ares sibling, she did not hold back the blow, the spear tip tearing his skin and leaving a deep cut on his arm.
"What the hell is this, Clarisse?" the boy shouted, pressing the wound as blood ran. She just grunted.
"Even the coward Apollo kids don't whine like you," but her eyes were distant, the anger not directed at him.
The explosions multiplied over the days: yelling at campers who made silly mistakes, punches on training bags that echoed louder than necessary, and she had become quieter during meals, she who always dominated conversations with battle stories, now stayed silent, chewing food with her gaze fixed on the Apollo cabin table. Her siblings exchanged nervous glances, whispering that "she's worse than normal," but no one dared confront her.
One afternoon, the air was heavy with the buzz of insects and the distant echo of laughter from younger campers playing near the lake, but on the porch of cabin 6, where you and Annabeth were sitting, the atmosphere was quieter, almost introspective. A light breeze stirred the pages of Annabeth's notebook, which she held firmly, ink-stained fingers tracing lines and diagrams. The smell of dry earth and pine resin hung in the air, mixed with the polish you used on your bow, an oily and familiar aroma that calmed your nerves.
Annabeth was leaning forward, her brown eyes shining with that calculating intensity that made her the best strategist at camp.
"So, I talked to Luke earlier," she began, turning a page with a quick gesture. "He thinks we can turn the game in the next capture the flag if we mix the teams in an unexpected way. The Ares kids will expect a heavy defense on the eastern border, as always, but we're going to infiltrate a quick hunt through the western flank…"
She drew an arrow on the paper, the pencil scraping against the surface.
"And that's where you come in. It's time to abandon that bow a little. I'm putting you on the hunt, you're fast, precise, and can cover ground without making noise."
You were sitting on the step beside her, the bow balanced on your lap as you passed the soft cloth over the curved wood, feeling the smooth texture under your fingers. The movement was rhythmic, almost meditative, a welcome distraction from the thoughts that stubbornly returned to Clarisse. Upon hearing Annabeth's words, you could not help a low laugh, the sound escaping soft like a breeze, without raising your eyes from the bow.
"You sounded like Clarisse just now," you murmured, voice low and casual, but with a subtle note of something more, perhaps nostalgia, perhaps contained irritation. Clarisse always picked on your bow, calling it a "coward's weapon," as if only close combat was worthwhile.
Annabeth stopped writing at the same instant, the pencil freezing in the air. She raised her gaze slowly, analyzing you as if you were a puzzle to be solved, shoulders slightly tense, the way your fingers gripped the cloth for a second longer than necessary. The expression on your face had changed: the corners of your mouth curving downward almost imperceptibly, eyes shifting to the horizon instead of meeting hers.
"Speaking of Clarisse…" Annabeth said, tone neutral, but with sharp curiosity behind it. She closed the notebook slowly, crossing her arms over it as if preparing for a deeper conversation. "I heard a Hermes kid say earlier that he saw her punching trees last night after curfew. Those near the forest edge. He said she seemed… possessed. With a lot of anger."
You felt a tightness in your stomach, as if an invisible arrow had hit dead center. Your expressions changed before you could control them, eyebrows furrowing for an instant, lips pressing into a thin line. You swallowed hard, the sound audible in the silence that followed, and shrugged, forcing your shoulders to relax as you returned to polishing the bow with more deliberate movements.
"Oh, really?" The words came out casual, but you kept your eyes fixed on the bow, as if the polishing required all your attention. "Clarisse angry doesn't seem like news to me."
Annabeth narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly to the side, like an owl assessing prey. She knew you too well to let it pass.
"You're worried," she said, voice low but firm, no beating around the bush. It was a statement, not a question, loaded with that sharp perception that made her annoyingly accurate.
You laughed again, but this time the sound came out forced, as if laughing at something ridiculous, an inside joke that was not funny. You shook your head, still without looking at her, the cloth sliding faster over the wood.
"Holy shit, you are!" Annabeth shot back, eyes widening a little in genuine surprise, mixed with a trace of amusement. She leaned closer, the notebook now forgotten on her lap, as if the conversation had taken a more interesting turn than any capture the flag tactic. "I mean, I already imagined you were but seeing it happen right in front of me is another thing."
You paused for a second, fingers freezing on the cloth, but soon resumed the movement, slower now.
"I don't care what Clarisse does or doesn't do," you said, voice distant, as if talking about something trivial, like the weather or the dinner menu. "She can punch whatever she wants. Trees, people, whatever. It's not my problem." You shifted your gaze to the distant field, where campers trained with swords, the metal clang echoing like a distant reminder.
Annabeth huffed softly, a sound that was half frustration, half affection. She leaned back against the porch pillar, crossing her legs and watching you with that calculated patience.
"You know, I said maybe your idea of pulling away would work. Maybe. And maybe isn't certainty. Look at what's happening, she's exploding all over the place, you're here pretending not to notice… pretending very badly by the way. But it might be that ignoring doesn't put out the fire like you think it will, but actually just makes it burn slower. Or worse, spread."
You felt her words seep in like a seed planted in the fertile soil of your mind, but you shook your head again, forcing a smile that did not reach your eyes.
"Annabeth, seriously. Let's get back to the tactics?" You changed the subject with trained naturalness, returning to polish the bow with more vigor, as if the words could be erased by the repetitive motion.
She hesitated for a moment, eyes still fixed on you, as if deciding whether to insist or not.
"Okay, okay. But can I say one last thing?" She leaned toward you, trying to meet your eyes, and when she did, she continued. "Pretending you don't feel won't make the feelings go away."
You did not answer, blinking slowly and taking time to shift your eyes from Annabeth, pretending to return attention to your bow. She sighed, giving up, opened the notebook again, and turning the pages with a sharp gesture, continued her line of reasoning.
"Fine, Luke told me about a new route that…"
But as she continued, talking about positions and traps, you felt that seed germinating deep in your chest, an uncomfortable doubt, a worry you did not want to name.
The conversation repeating in your head like a persistent echo. Annabeth had planted it there, and no matter how much you denied it, you knew it would not disappear so easily. The sun continued to descend, lengthening the shadows across the porch, and the camp followed its rhythm, oblivious to the quiet turmoil forming inside you.
What was the daughter of Ares doing to you?
[...]
The day of capture the flag dawned with the rising sun tinting the treetops orange and pink, filtering through the branches in beams that danced on the dew-wet ground. The air was charged with anticipation, the smell of pine mixed with the sharp metal of weapons being prepared and the nervous sweat of the campers. The teams gathered at the edges of the forest: the blue team, led by Annabeth and Luke, and the red team, by Clarisse.
You felt the weight of the light armor on your shoulders, the sheathed sword at your side, missing the weight of the bow on your back, a reluctant commitment to Annabeth's plan to put you on the hunt, far from safe arrows.
"Blue team, positions!" Luke shouted, the plumed helmet swaying as he adjusted his shield.
You waved to him from afar, taking command of the hunting group on the front line: a handful of agile campers, including Hermes kids and some younger ones from Apollo and Athena, all with eyes shining with excitement.
The Camp Half-Blood forest swallowed them as if it were a living and hungry entity, the ancient twisted trunks of oaks and pines forming natural corridors of deep shadow, where the midday sunlight barely pierced the thick canopy of leaves.
The ground was covered by an uneven carpet of dry leaves and broken branches that creaked treacherously under boots, betraying every step. Further ahead, the stream that divided the territory into two sides murmured low, like a constant warning: crossing the water meant enemy territory, and whoever carried the opposing flag back to their own side won. Traps were scattered everywhere.
"Advance slowly, cover the flanks," you ordered, voice low but firm, cutting the tense silence like a celestial bronze blade.
The knot in your stomach tightened with every second, it was not exactly fear, but the sharp awareness that, in that moment, everyone there was both hunter and prey. The enemy flag was hidden somewhere in the depths, protected by traps, sentinels, and probably Clarisse and her Ares squad thirsty for blood.
Your mission was simple and brutal: distract, delay, wear down the opposing team for as long as possible, give your side a chance to advance.
You nodded to your group. They did not hesitate: they nodded back, spreading out in a fan formation, silent as shadows. Camp training did that to you: it turned teenagers into something lethal, almost instinctive.
You went alone eastward, moving like one of Artemis's hunters, light feet, controlled breathing, every muscle alert. The heart beat in a steady rhythm, synchronized with the distant echoes of battle: the muffled clang of swords clashing, short cries of surprise, the occasional snap of a trap being triggered.
A sudden rustle to your right made you freeze in place. Your hand flew to the sword hilt, fingers closing tightly on the worn leather grip. You held your breath, ears attuned to the slightest noise. The leaves moved again, slowly, deliberate, as if something (or someone) was testing the ground. The air seemed heavier, the pine smell now mixed with sweat and metal.
You approached centimeter by centimeter, body low, back brushing the rough bark of a tree. Your pulse thundered in your ears. One more movement in the foliage, and you leaped to the side, sword unsheathed in a fluid arc, ready to cut whoever it was.
But from the middle of the bushes emerged Percy Jackson, also in combat stance, Riptide already extended in his right hand, the celestial bronze blade gleaming with a cold, almost watery shine, as if capturing nonexistent light. His sea-blue eyes, always so expressive even in chaos, widened for a fraction of a second before recognition hit. You both lowered your weapons almost at the same time, metal scraping lightly against the air.
"Oh, it's you," you both said in unison, the words coming out in a relieved breath that turned into a low, nervous laugh. Your chest still rose and fell quickly, adrenaline running through your veins.
Percy ran his free hand through his messy blond hair, sweaty and disheveled as always, and gave a crooked smile, one of those that made the whole camp seem less dangerous for a moment.
"Almost cut you in half, dude. Thought it was one of those Ares brutes coming to hunt me again." He capped Riptide back into pen form with a familiar click, but kept his eyes alert, scanning the forest around. "Listen… Clarisse is loose out there alone. Really alone. She dismissed her platoon. She's got a look that… I don't know, like she wants to destroy anything that moves. Be careful, okay? She's fiercer than normal, and that's saying something."
You felt a shiver run down your spine. Clarisse La Rue alone? That did not add up. She was the type who led by shouting orders, wielding the electric spear like an extension of her own arm, always with half a dozen Ares siblings behind her. But the rumors of Clarisse's bad mood had been piling up for weeks, so for some reason you were not surprised. You shook your head, pushing the worry to the back of your mind.
"Thanks for the warning, Percy." You gave a half smile, trying to sound confident, but he knew you too well. He tilted his head, blue eyes studying you for a second longer, as if he could see through the facade.
"Hey," he said, even lower, taking a step closer. "If you need backup, yell. Or whistle that ridiculous way you do. I'll find you." He gave a light punch to your shoulder, the casual and familiar gesture that always reminded you why you had survived so many things together, monsters, prophecies, sleepless nights. "And don't go playing the lone hero, okay? We've done that before and almost turned into hydra barbecue."
You laughed low, the sound muffled by the forest.
"You don't go throwing yourself at everyone like last time, Seaweed Brain. Someone has to pull you out of the water when you overdo it."
He rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed, genuine and warm amid the tension.
"Deal." He waved once, already turning to the shadows. "Good hunting."
And then he vanished among the trees, as silent as he had arrived. A shadow of blond strands blending into the forest green.
You took a deep breath, adjusted the sword in your hand, and advanced again, deeper still. Percy's warning echoed in your head like an unspoken prophecy, but you pushed it all to the corner of your mind. Focus on the mission. The enemy flag was waiting. And Clarisse, wherever she was, probably too.
The forest closed around you again, alive, watchful, and you pressed on.
It did not take long for another noise to alert you: a muffled shout, followed by the clang of metal and a fierce grunt. You ran toward it, branches whipping your face, heart racing. Bursting into a small clearing, the scene hit you full force.
Clarisse, with the electric spear humming in the air, facing a younger camper, a blue team boy barely out of childhood, with eyes wide in terror. He was one of the distractions in Annabeth's strategy, a harmless bait to draw enemies into traps. But Clarisse was not playing fair. Her brown eyes burned with blind rage, face twisted in a snarl, and she advanced like a bull, spear raised for a blow that was no joke.
"Clarisse, stop!" you shouted, but it was too late, she lunged, the spear cutting the air with an electric hiss.
Without thinking, you threw yourself forward, stepping in front of the child like a living shield. Your sword rose in a quick arc, colliding with her spear in a crash that echoed through the clearing, sparks flying where metal met metal. The impact reverberated through your arms, muscles protesting against her brute force.
The child blinked, stunned, and you barked an order without taking your eyes off Clarisse.
"Run! Go to Annabeth, now!" The boy did not hesitate, stumbling away as he vanished into the forest.
Clarisse stepped back one pace, arm muscles flexed under the armor, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Her eyes fixed on yours, a mix of surprise and bitterness gleaming in them.
"Oh, so now you want to fight?" she spat, voice hoarse and bitter, as if the words were accumulated poison. "Tired of running?"
You kept the sword raised, feet planted firmly on the soft ground, feeling the vibration of the impact still running through your arms.
"What is happening to you?" you shot back, voice firm but loaded with a concern you could not fully hide. "He's just a kid!"
"What is happening to you!" Clarisse growled back, lunging with brutal force, the spear spinning in a skillful arc that forced you to retreat, blocking the blow with a clang that reverberated through the trees.
She was a force of nature: every movement precise, fueled by a rage that seemed to come from within, broad shoulders moving with lethal grace despite the fury. You counterattacked, your sword cutting the air in an attempt to disarm her, but she deflected with ease, the electric hum of the spear increasing like a warning.
The fight intensified, the clearing ground turning into a chaos of stirred leaves and foot marks. Clarisse attacked without mercy, her thrusts strong enough to make your arms ache with every block, she spun the spear like an extension of her own body, alternating between high and low strikes, forcing you to dance in circles to avoid the electric contact.
Her curly hair escaped the tight braid, sticking to her sweaty face, and you noticed her hands. They were wrapped in white bandages stained with dirt and dried blood. It was not just rumors about her punching trees.
"He doesn't deserve your fury!" you shouted between one block and another, trying to penetrate her wall, spinning to the side and counterattacking with a lateral blow that she parried with an animalistic grunt.
She huffed, eyes narrowed into slits of pure rage, lunging again with a series of quick strikes that made you retreat to the trees.
"Shut up! You don't know anything!" The words poured out like venom, cold and cutting, without a hint of explanation, just raw rage, as if every syllable was another weapon. Another spear spin, and you felt the air crackle near your shoulder, the ozone smell mixing with sweat and earth.
You tried to press, not just with the sword, but with words.
"What is making you like this?" But she remained cold, an impenetrable wall, responding only with more thrusts, more growls.
"It's none of your business! Just fight or get out of the way!" The fight continued, the sun filtering in intermittent rays over you, the sound of metal against metal echoing like a personal duel amid the greater chaos of capture the flag.
Deep down, you knew this went beyond the game; it was something that had been fermenting for days, a spark Annabeth had predicted, but that now burned uncontrolled between you two.
The fight intensified with every breath, the clearing air charged with the metallic smell of sweat and ozone from Clarisse's electric spear. She attacked with growing fury, the blows coming faster, heavier, as if each thrust was an attempt to crush not just your defense, but something deeper within herself.
"You think you can judge me?" she snarled, hoarse voice echoing among the trees, spinning the spear in a wide arc that forced you to jump aside, your sword blade scraping against hers in a high-pitched hiss. "After hiding like a coward behind a stupid bow and arrow?"
Her brown eyes were dark, almost black with rage, teeth clenched in an expression of pure contained hatred, but you saw beyond, saw the cracks in that emotional armor she wore like a second skin.
You blocked another blow, feeling the impact reverberate through your arms, and shot back with sharp words, using her rage as an opening.
"Judge? I'm trying to understand, Clarisse!" Your voice came out firm, provocative, knowing she was not the type to sit and talk about feelings. "You're destroying yourself out there, punching trees, hurting campers who don't deserve it."
She huffed, the muscles in her bandaged hands gripping the spear shaft so hard you heard the leather creak. Clarisse hated vulnerability; rage was her native language, and you would use it to pull something from her, even if in pieces.
"Shut that mouth! You know nothing about me!" Another blow came, brutal, the spear cutting the air with an electric hum that made the surrounding leaves tremble.
She was angrier now, movements losing some of their usual precision, replaced by brute force that made the ground shake with every step. You dodged by inches, counterattacking with a lateral blow that she parried with an animalistic grunt, eyes blazing.
"You disappear like a coward and now want to play therapist? Go to hell!"
The fight became increasingly wild, the rhythm accelerating like an uncontrolled heart. Clarisse lunged without pause, her breathing heavy and irregular, sweat running down her face and mixing with the curly strands. You felt exhaustion starting to weigh, but persisted, blocking and retaliating, words coming out between the metal clangs.
"So that's it? Rage because I got tired of being your punching bag? Or are you going to keep pretending you're just a bad-tempered Ares daughter?" She did not really answer, just more coldness, more closure, lips curling in a sneer of disdain as she attacked again, the spear spinning in a blur that forced you back against a tree.
And then came the blow that changed everything. Clarisse, blinded by a fresh wave of fury, perhaps from your words poking too deep, spun the spear with demonic speed, the tip grazing. The impact knocked your helmet off, which flew aside with a crash, rolling through the damp grass.
A sharp pain burned your cheek, a superficial cut you felt immediately, warm blood slowly trickling down your skin. You froze for an instant, hand flying to your face, fingers coming away stained red. The world seemed to pause, the forest sound muffled, heart pounding in your ears.
Clarisse stopped too, eyes widening for fractions of a second, spear still raised in the air. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, face pale under the layer of sweat and dirt, as if the blood on your face had pulled her from the rage fog. She blinked, jaw locked, but said nothing, just a cold, loaded silence, as if fighting against something internal threatening to escape.
It was not visible remorse, not yet; it was a hesitation, a crack in the wall she built.
You raised your gaze slowly, eyes burning with a mix of pain and determination, the cut throbbing like a living reminder. With a deep sigh, you brushed away the strands of hair falling on your face in a majestic way, the gesture slow and deliberate, like a goddess recomposing herself after battle. The sun filtered through the treetops, illuminating the blood on your skin like a war mark.
"Fine," you murmured, voice low and resolute, echoing in the tense silence. "It'll be your way then."
Without hesitating, you threw the sword to the ground with a dull clang, the blade sinking into the soft earth. Clarisse blinked again, surprise freezing her expression for a moment, her eyes narrowing in confusion, the spear still in a defensive position, as if she could not believe what she was seeing. She was a statue of contained fury, muscles tense but motionless, waiting for the next move.
And you did not make her wait. You lunged at her with bare hands, feet propelling you forward in a fierce leap. Clarisse raised the spear instinctively, the electric hum increasing like a warning, but you were faster, grabbed the shaft with both hands, feeling the vibration run through your arms, and used the momentum to push her back.
The impact unbalanced her, her feet slipping on the damp grass, and she fell on her back with a heavy thud, the air escaping her lungs in a surprised grunt.
You straddled her body in an instant, legs locking hers to the ground, hands still gripping the spear and pressing it against Clarisse's neck. The pressure was firm, not lethal, but enough to immobilize her, the cold metal brushing her skin. She struggled for a second, eyes blazing with renewed rage, but you held her in place, the weight of your body and the determination in your eyes anchoring her.
Clarisse grunted again, teeth clenched, bandaged hands pushing back with brute force, but she remained closed off, cold as ice, without uttering a word about why, just more rage pouring out in stares and silent growls, as if admitting anything would be a greater defeat than the fight itself. The clearing seemed smaller now, the world reduced to the two of you, trapped in that clash that went beyond swords and spears.
Clarisse began to thrash beneath you with renewed strength, arm muscles tensed to the maximum, bandaged hands pushing the spear shaft away from her neck. Her body writhed like a cornered animal, legs trying to free themselves from yours, chest rising and falling in heavy gasps.
A low growl escaped her throat, pure fighting instinct, eyes still burning with that endless cold rage. The spear vibrated between you, the electric hum crackling like a threat, but you maintained the pressure, forearms trembling from the effort.
"Clarisse, stop!" Your voice came out louder than intended, trembling in the middle.
She continued for another second, teeth clenched, face red from effort, but then something changed. Her eyes, those brown eyes that always seemed to challenge the entire world, caught the wet gleam in yours. Tears. Not many, just enough to blur your vision, to run hot down the cut on your cheek and mix with the blood.
You had not even realized they were there until that moment.
"Please, just stop!" Your voice broke on the last words against your will.
Clarisse faltered. The strength in her arms diminished suddenly, as if someone had cut the strings keeping her tense. The spear slipped a few centimeters to the side, its weight now inert against the ground. She stopped thrashing. Stopped fighting. Lay there, on her back in the damp earth of the clearing, chest still panting, eyes fixed on yours, but now without the wall of ice, just raw confusion, almost frightened, that she tried to hide behind controlled breathing.
"Since you won't talk, I'll talk." You said, voice hoarse and intense, the cut on your cheek still bleeding, drops falling onto the bronze of her armor.
You let out a shaky sigh, slowly easing the pressure on the spear, but without getting off her. You could not. Not yet. The words came then, as if they had been waiting for that exact moment of silence to escape, one after another, without filter, without long pauses.
"I saw you, Clarisse. I always saw you. You, in the center of the training circle, spinning that spear as if the world were too small for you. I hated it, hated how you looked at me as if I were just easy prey, as if I were worthless beyond arrows and safe distance. We fought, we provoked each other, we hated each other… or at least that's what I thought it was. All that rivalry, that fire that ignited every time you opened your mouth to call me princess of the sun or coward. I came back. Always came back. Even knowing I'd take a beating, even knowing you'd laugh in my face. I came back for you."
Your voice lowered, almost a whisper, but the words kept coming, heavy, inevitable.
"I didn't know what it was about you that pulled me back. It wasn't just anger, not just wounded pride. It was… more. I needed to be on your radar, Clarisse. Needed you to see me, to challenge me, to not let me go unnoticed like you do with the others, those newbie campers who arrive, try to impress, and then become just another face in the crowd for you. I didn't want to be forgotten. Not by you. No matter how much it hurt to take hits, no matter how much you made me feel small… I came back because deep down I couldn't stand the idea of you erasing me from your mind."
You swallowed hard, feeling another tear escape, but did not wipe your face. Let it fall.
"You can think I'm a fool. You can think I'm masochistic, crazy, whatever. I don't care. But I found out that, in the end, I just… care about you. Really care. Seeing you destroying yourself like this, exploding at everyone, letting that rage eat you alive inside, it hurts me too. Hurts me more than any blow you've ever given me in training. Because I know there's something inside you that's not just fury. I know there is. And I can't pretend anymore that I don't see it."
The silence that followed was dense, almost palpable. The forest around seemed to hold its breath, no birds, no wind, just the distant and muffled sound of capture the flag continuing without you. Clarisse remained motionless beneath you, eyes still fixed on yours, jaw locked, but now without strength, without defense. She said nothing. Did not deny, did not confirm, did not explode. Just breathed, lips parted as if the words were there, stuck, but unable to come out.
You waited. Waited for her to say anything, an insult, a growl, a "get off me." But she just looked, and for the first time since you had known her, Clarisse La Rue seemed completely, painfully, without armor.
Clarisse continued lying under you, body still tense like a drawn string, but no longer fighting. The spear lay loose between you, the electric hum reduced to a low murmur, almost inaudible. Her chest rose and fell in short, irregular breaths, as if each inhalation hurt.
The brown eyes, always so sharp and challenging, now stared into yours, widened in a way you had never seen before: it was not anger, not mockery. It was something rawer, more exposed. Fear, perhaps. Or the panic of someone who had just been truly disarmed.
She blinked once. Twice. The locked jaw trembled slightly, a muscle pulsing at the corner of her mouth. You felt the heat of her body through the armor, the sweat sticking the fabric to her skin, her heart beating so fast it seemed to want to break through her ribs. Clarisse swallowed hard, the sound loud in the clearing silence, and looked away for a second, as if facing you was too much. But soon returned, because running away was never her style.
The bandaged hands, which before pushed with brute force, now lay motionless at her sides, fingers slightly curved as if wanting to grasp something that did not exist. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened again. No sound came out. Her throat worked visibly, as if the words were there, jammed, burning.
You saw the exact moment her tears threatened to come. Her eyes grew brighter, the inner corners reddening subtly. But Clarisse La Rue did not cry. Never. Instead, she pressed her lips so hard they turned white, nose wrinkling in a grimace of pure effort to stay whole. A low sound, almost a muffled groan, escaped from deep in her throat, not from physical pain, but from something much deeper, something she had buried under layers and layers of anger, pride, and fear.
"You…" The voice came out hoarse, broken, as if unused to saying such things for years, perhaps never.
She stopped immediately, clenching her teeth as if she had betrayed herself. Her eyes scanned your face: the cut on your cheek, the dried blood mixed with tears, the strands of hair stuck to your skin. Something in her expression broke a little more. Guilt, perhaps. Or recognition.
Clarisse turned her face to the side, looking at the trees as if they could offer an escape. Her breathing trembled now, more shallow.
"Damn…" she murmured, so low you almost did not hear. It was the most vulnerable voice you had ever heard from her, without armor, without mockery, without shield. Just Clarisse. Raw. Scared.
She looked back at you, and this time did not look away. Her eyes were wet, but the tears did not fall, she would not allow it. Because Clarisse does not cry.
"You can't… just say those things," she whispered, voice failing in the middle. "You can't come here, knock me down, make me…" She stopped again, fists clenching at her sides, nails digging into palms even through the bandages. "It's not how it works."
But she did not push you away. Did not thrash. Did not yell. Just lay there, pinned under you, breathing the same heavy air, her eyes saying everything her mouth refused to release: that you had hit the mark, that she felt the same emptiness when you pulled away, that the rage of the last days had been her trying to fill the hole you left. That she also did not want to be forgotten. That, in some twisted and brutal way, you were too important to her.
A muffled sigh escaped your lips, not quite knowing if it was from surprise, from exhaustion after the near-deadly fight minutes before, or from relief. Your hands were trembling, still hesitant as you slowly moved the spear away from Clarisse, your posture straightening over the daughter of Ares, sitting on her stomach. The weapon slipped from your fingers to the side of your bodies, falling to the grass- and dry-leaf-covered ground.
Both too absorbed to care about the intimate position. Clarisse breathed deeply, chest trembling. Slowly, you began to move, hands bracing on the ground beside her to stand, as if giving space was the next logical step, the inevitable end to that exposed vulnerability.
"Fine," you murmured, voice soft, almost resigned.
But before you could fully rise, her hands acted. Hesitant, as if she herself did not know if she could, or should, do that. The bandaged fingers closed around your waist, firm enough to stop you from going, but without the usual brutality. It was not the confident grip with which she handled the spear, which seemed a natural extension of her body, a weapon forged to destroy.
It was something new, trembling: palms brushing the bronze armor, before lowering to your hips uncovered by the protection, thumbs pressing lightly against the fabric of your clothes, as if testing the ground of an unknown world. You felt their heat for the first time like this, without anger, without provocation, and a shiver ran up your spine.
Unlike what Clarisse might think, that you would stiffen, fight back, or flee, you relaxed into the touch. Your muscles, tense from the fight, softened like wax in the sun. The gaze, which burned with determination moments before, softened into something warmer, more open. A sigh escaped your lips, and you stopped resisting, letting your body weight settle again.
As if instinct took over, without her needing to think, Clarisse raised her torso slowly. The abdominal muscles contracted under you, and she sat up, the movement fluid despite the hesitation in her eyes. Your body slid naturally, from her stomach to her lap, fitting perfectly there, as if it had always belonged.
Your thighs adjusted around hers, faces now dangerously close: breaths mixing, the smell of sweat, earth, and something sweeter, her woody soap, invading your senses. The rebellious curly strands brushed your forehead, and your eyes locked, inches apart, the clearing world reducing to that point.
Still hesitant, as if everything were unexplored territory, she, who did not know how to be gentle, who only knew the world through punches and spears, raised her hand slowly. The trembling fingers hovered in the air for a second, as if asking silent permission, before touching your face. The palm marked by bandages dirty with dried blood brushed the injured cheek with a delicacy that seemed impossible coming from her.
"All I know is how to fight…" she murmured, voice hoarse and low, eyes fixed on the superficial cut she herself had caused.
Her thumb, trembling and hesitant, passed slowly below the wound, tracing around the red line with a lightness that contrasted with all the previous brutality. The pain throbbed, sharp but bearable, and you closed your eyes instinctively, a subtle grimace crossing your face. Clarisse pulled back a little, startled, fingers freezing in the air as if she had burned you on purpose. Her eyes widened, panic returning in a fresh wave.
She had never known how to be gentle, and perhaps she would not learn now.
"And hurt people." She completed, voice failing at the end, as if admitting that was the final blow she did not know how to dodge. "I don't deserve you caring about me."
Clarisse pulled her hand away from your face as if the touch burned her inside, the bandaged fingers moving away slowly, hesitant but decided. The thumb still hovered in the air for an instant, trembling, before falling to the side, as if she feared prolonged contact could worsen the damage she had already done. Her brown eyes, so intense moments before, now avoided yours, fixing on the superficial cut on your cheek.
Before her hand could fully withdraw, you acted on instinct, fingers closing around her wrist, a firm but gentle touch, nothing like the brutality of the previous fight. Her skin was rough under the bandages, hot and pulsing, and you felt her accelerated pulse against your palm, as if her heart was trying to escape.
After so many years on Clarisse's tail, you knew better than anyone that the daughter of Ares had a certain issue with touches. She hated being touched, always yelling around "don't touch me, idiot" or "get your hands off me before I rip them off you." So it was a risk you were taking when, with a smooth motion, you guided her hand back to your face, pressing it lightly against your cheek, ignoring the sting of pain that came with the contact.
"It's not your fault," you murmured, voice low and comforting, like a balm on an open wound. "I should have paid more attention to my rear guard… that's what you always say, isn't it?"
The words came loaded with a sincerity you did not even know you held, eyes fixed on hers, trying to convey that the cut on the skin was nothing compared to what was fermenting in both your chests. You felt her muscles relax a little under your touch, as if that simple gesture had defused a bomb about to explode.
"Clarisse?" you called when no response came from her. "It's not your fault."
This was no longer about the blow that gave you a cut on the cheek, it was about everything. Her angry nature, her drive for victory, her craving for war… and Clarisse felt it.
A strange atmosphere settled then, confused and electric, like the air before a storm you do not know if it will bring rain or sun. Your faces were too close, noses almost touching, breaths intertwining in warm puffs that made loose hair strands dance.
Clarisse's eyes wandered slowly over your face, almost reverent: from the eyebrows furrowed by recent pain, past the lashes wet with unshed tears, to the parted lips, soft and inviting under the filtered forest light.
She swallowed hard, throat working visibly, and for a moment, everything she wanted to say bubbled inside her, how beautiful you were, there, with the sun gilding your skin, eyes shining with a vulnerability that left her breathless. She wanted to say how beautiful you were the first time she laid eyes on you, when she was sure something was wrong with her.
When she decided hating was easier than desiring.
You were beautiful like a sun goddess she always teased, whom she had always seen as something beyond a rival: someone who truly saw her, behind the armor of rage. But the words did not come. Clarisse did not know how to vocalize that without sounding stupid, without turning the moment into something weak or ridiculous. She did not know how to say she was sure Aphrodite's blessing had fallen on you the moment you were claimed.
"You are…" she began, but stopped, lips moving without sound, heart pounding like a war drum that did not know how to pause.
You drew closer slowly, almost without noticing, an invisible magnet pulling your bodies, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw, awkward, as if she did not know how to do this, lips tilting toward each other in agonizing slowness. The world around dissolved: the rustle of leaves in the light wind, the distant song of a bird, the smell of resin and earth, everything reduced to the growing heat between you, to the tingling on the skin where her hands touched.
Your eyes closed instinctively, heart racing as if about to leap from your chest, and you felt her breath brush your lips, hot and hesitant, a whisper of possibility.
But then, the sound echoed through the forest like distant thunder: the summoning horn, deep and prolonged, announcing the end of capture the flag. A victory, for some team, it did not matter which in that instant. The air vibrated with the echo, and at the same time, celebratory voices erupted not far away, cutting the clearing silence like sharp blades.
Hoarse laughter, triumphant shouts: "We got it! Victory for the reds!, and Clarisse immediately recognized them: her cabin siblings, children of Ares, with their rough voices full of warrior pride, approaching quickly through the trees, heavy steps crushing leaves and branches along the way.
Panic flashed across Clarisse's eyes like lightning. She acted fast, instinctive, like the warrior she was: the hands on your waist suddenly tightened, and with a skillful twist, using her own body weight as leverage, she reversed the positions.
You felt the world spin for a second, the soft ground receiving your back with a dull thud, and suddenly she was on top, thighs locking yours, the electric spear fallen to the side, but her body simulating a fighting position: one arm braced beside your head, the other pretending to press as if immobilizing you.
Her curly hair fell like a curtain around your faces, but her eyes, oh, her eyes still burned with that confused fire, a mix of interrupted desire and forced relief.
Just in time, the campers burst into the clearing, a group of sweaty and euphoric Ares children, the blue flag, the enemy team's flag, your team's flag, waving in one of their hands like a conquered trophy.
"Clarisse! We got the flag from those Athena nerds!" one shouted, his broad face splitting into a fierce grin, while the others slapped each other's backs, the air filled with the smell of victory and sweat.
They paused for a second upon seeing you both, but laughed loudly, interpreting the scene as what it appeared: a common fight, Clarisse dominating yet another opponent.
"Hey, look at the boss beating up the Apollo little girl! Good one, Clarisse!"
Clarisse raised her gaze to them, forcing a smile that did not reach her eyes, a sneer of mockery she mastered so well. But before getting up, she looked at you one last time: the brown eyes lingering on yours for an eternal second, full of everything unsaid, of interrupted promises and feelings still boiling beneath the surface. There was a silent plea there, "later," mixed with a vulnerability only you saw.
Then, she rose, accepting the outstretched hands of her siblings, who dragged her into the celebration, slapping her shoulders with strong pats and guttural laughter. You managed to hear a "don't touch me" amid the commotion.
"Come on, Clarisse! Time to rub it in those losers' faces!" They pulled her away, the group moving like a victorious pack, voices echoing farther and farther through the forest.
You lay there, on the damp earth, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. A long sigh escaped your lips, loaded with a mix of frustration, relief, and something sweeter, a timid hope taking root in your chest. You rested your head on the soft ground, feeling leaves stick to your sweaty hair, and closed your eyes slowly, letting the exhaustion from the fight and emotions settle like a fog.
You still felt the tingling on your skin where her hands had touched, the almost-kiss hanging in the air like a persistent perfume, mixed with the smell of sweat and crushed pine. The cut on your cheek throbbed lightly, a sharp reminder of the chaos that had turned into something inexplicable.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the silence, echoing out of nowhere like a whisper from the wind.
"Well, that was... intense." You knew that voice, clear and sarcastic, but without a body to accompany it, as if the air itself was speaking.
You sat up in immediate alert, body rising in an instinctive leap, eyes scanning the empty clearing around: ancient trees with mossy bark, bushes swaying lightly in the breeze, but nothing beyond shadows and leaves. Your heart raced again, a wave of paranoia climbing your spine. Was it a trick? A monster? Until the air in front of you rippled subtly, and Annabeth materialized there, inches from your face, removing the invisibility cap with a casual gesture.
Her brown eyes shone with a mix of amusement and sharp analysis, skin glistening under the filtered sun, long and intricate braids falling over her shoulders like a cascade of precisely woven ropes. She wore the light armor of the blue team, marked by forest dirt, and a crooked smile curved her lips, as if all that was just another piece in a puzzle she had already solved.
You blinked, incredulous, relief mixing with irritation as you processed her closeness, close enough to smell the ancient books and ink that always accompanied her. You rolled your eyes, the exaggerated gesture echoing your frustration.
"Were you there the whole time?" you asked, voice coming out higher than intended, loaded with disbelief.
Annabeth nodded slowly, crossing her arms over her chest with a naturalness only she had, as if invisibility were something banal like tying shoelaces.
"Yes." Simple as that.
You huffed, feeling heat rise up your neck, part anger, part embarrassment at imagining how much she had seen.
"And you didn't think to help me? She could have killed me!" The words came out in an accusing tone, eyes narrowing as you remembered the spear humming too close, Clarisse's blind fury that could have escalated to something worse.
Annabeth raised an eyebrow, smile widening into an air of intellectual superiority that was typically hers.
"Based on my theories and given the result of my plan, she wouldn't do that. Not with you at least. And I knew you could handle it. Only you could tame the incessant fury of an Ares daughter with A LOT of anger." She emphasized the last words with a dramatic tone, as if narrating a Greek epic, gray eyes dancing with a hint of malice.
You narrowed your eyes, suspicion crystallizing like an arrow on target. The air around seemed heavier now, wind whispering through leaves as if mocking your naivety. With a quick motion, you stood from the damp ground, feeling earth stick to your clothes and hair, body still sore from the fight.
"I knew it! You put me on the hunt because you knew I'd run into Clarisse!" you accused, pointing a finger at her, tone mixing indignation and a hint of betrayal.
Annabeth shrugged, the gesture too casual to be innocent, lips curving into an enigmatic smile.
"Maybe?" She tilted her head, braids swaying lightly, as if evaluating your reaction as part of an experiment. "Or maybe it was just a solid tactic. But, hey, it worked, didn't it?"
The clearing seemed smaller now, with the sun descending a bit more, lengthening tree shadows like accusing fingers. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, but Annabeth did not stop there, she took a step closer, eyes fixed on yours with that sharp perception that made her irritating and brilliant at the same time.
"So, tell me: how did it feel to have Clarisse La Rue, the camp bully, daughter of the powerful God of war, melting in your arms?" she asked, voice theatrical, exaggerating each word as if performing a Shakespearean play, hands gesturing dramatically to emphasize, eyes shining with malicious amusement.
It was clearly to irritate you, to poke the fresh wound. You rolled your eyes again, crossing your arms defensively, but the heat on your face betrayed the embarrassment.
"It wasn't exactly like that," you shot back, voice coming out lower than intended, avoiding her gaze as you remembered Clarisse's hesitant touch, her body fitting against yours. The wind stirred the leaves around, as if the forest was chuckling softly.
Annabeth huffed, leaning closer with eyebrows arched in challenge.
"You were about to kiss," she said, straight to the point, tone casual but loaded with certainty, as if declaring a historical fact.
"What? No!" you shouted, eyes widening in shock, blush intensifying until your ears burned.
Shyness invaded you like a wave, stomach churning at realizing Annabeth had seen everything. You looked away to the ground, feeling the cut on your cheek throb like an uncomfortable reminder.
Annabeth watched you in silence for a second, eyebrows raised, lips pressed to contain a smile. She did not press immediately, giving space for the moment to settle, the air between you charged with friendly tension, the distant sound of camp beginning to filter through the forest: muffled laughter, the clang of armor being stored.
You sighed deeply, the sound echoing like a partial surrender, and walked to where your helmet and sword lay on the ground, the blade still shining under the sun, marked by fresh scratches. You picked them up slowly, turning your back to Annabeth as you wiped earth from the grip and then checked the helmet, thoughts spinning like lost arrows.
"Well..." you murmured, turning back with a lost gaze, fixed on a distant point among the trees, where the sun tinted leaves orange. "Maybe I misread it... Clarisse would never do something like that."
The words came hesitant, loaded with doubt, heart tightening with the possibility that it had all been just an adrenaline delusion.
Annabeth approached slowly, light steps on the damp grass, stopping an arm's length away, reaching to take the helmet you held, as if removing the weight from your hands could remove it from your mind. Her eyes softened a bit, losing the provocative tone for a moment of genuine empathy.
"I know what I saw, and you do too," she said, voice low and firm, as if unraveling a puzzle. "You're just scared because it was all a mess... Years thinking you hated each other. You can afford to be confused."
You looked away, eyes lost in the lengthening shadows of the clearing, thinking about her words. Years of provocations, fights, loaded glances that perhaps had never been just hate. The cut on your cheek throbbed again, and you touched it absentmindedly, feeling dried blood under your fingers. Annabeth noticed, and her expression softened even more.
"Hey," she called, voice cutting the thoughtful silence, "let's get back to camp and let your siblings fix that up, you don't want a scar on that pretty face when you go on a date with La Rue." She pointed to the cut on your face with a casual gesture.
"We don't have a date!" You shot back, but Annabeth was already steps ahead.
"But you will!"
You grumbled silently, sheathing the sword at your waist with a dull click, its weight a familiar comfort amid the internal turmoil. You took a step forward to follow Annabeth, who was already turning toward the trail. But something crunched under your boot, a muffled metallic sound from the soft earth, different from the usual snap of dry branches. You stopped immediately, camper instinct alerting to anything out of place in the forest. You lowered your gaze and crouched slowly, fingers brushing damp grass until finding the object: cold, heavy, familiar.
Clarisse's electric spear.
The long shaft was still warm from use, internal mechanism silent now, but with fresh marks of earth and stuck leaves, as if abandoned in haste in the heat of the moment. Probably, in the confusion of reversing positions and the sudden arrival of her cabin siblings, she had completely forgotten it there.
You lifted it slowly, feeling the balanced weight in your hands, a weapon made for destruction, but that now seemed almost vulnerable. The metal reflected the golden light of the sun, and a shiver ran up your spine as you remembered Clarisse's hands gripping that same shaft minutes before, with brute force and, later, with hesitation.
Annabeth, who was a few steps ahead, turned with an impatient expression on her lips, ready to tell you to hurry, something like "Come on, lunch won't wait," but stopped upon seeing what you held.
Her brown eyes widened for a second, immediately recognizing the iconic spear, before a sly smile spread slowly across her face. She crossed her arms, tilting her head with blatant malice.
"I think you have a very good excuse to meet up with the hothead," she said, voice low and provocative, braids swaying lightly as she raised an eyebrow, as if savoring the victory of her own strategy.
The blush rose instantly to your cheeks, hot and treacherous, spreading to your ears. You gripped the spear between your fingers harder than necessary, its weight now a palpable reminder of everything that had happened, and what almost had.
"Shut up, Annabeth," you murmured, without real conviction, eyes shifting to the ground for an instant before standing, the weapon balanced at your side as if it belonged there.
Annabeth laughed softly, a satisfied sound that echoed through the clearing, but did not press further, at least for now. She turned again to the trail, smile still on her lips, and you began walking toward camp. The spear weighed in your hands, a perfect pretext, or a trap, and in your chest, confusion still danced, now mixed with a timid expectation you did not dare name.
The way back seemed longer, each step echoing promises of future conversations, exchanged glances, and perhaps something that would finally stop being almost.
Meanwhile, Clarisse La Rue marched back to camp alongside her cabin siblings, feet stomping hard on the forest floor opening to the wide valley of Camp Half-Blood. The sun was high in the sky, a relentless golden disk bathing everything in clear, warm light, the kind of day perfect for training or games, but that now only irritated her, as if Apollo himself was mocking her from above.
The air smelled of pine and distant smoke from Hephaestus's forge, and celebration sounds already echoed through the fields: victory shouts, hoarse laughter, and the clang of weapons beaten on shields. Her siblings, a pack of tall Ares children full of fresh bruises, carried the captured blue flag like a war trophy, waving it in the air while exchanging playful punches and affectionate insults.
"That was close, but we crushed those blue nerds again!" bellowed one, a boy named Sherman, face marked by a recent cut on his eyebrow. He raised the flag higher, and the group exploded in laughter, the guttural and triumphant sound filling the air like a battle hymn.
Clarisse forced a nod, lips curving into a smile that looked more like a snarl. She tried to join in, really tried, but it was as if her body was there, but her mind... her mind was stuck in that damned clearing, replaying every second like a cursed prophecy.
The cut on the cheek, blood mixed with tears, the words coming from the girl's mouth like poisoned arrows: "I saw you, Clarisse. Always saw you... I needed you to see me... I care about you." How the hell could someone like her, who had spent years provoking you, knocking you down in training, calling you "princess of the sun" with all possible venom, say something like that? And worse: why did it not sound like a lie?
A strong slap hit her back, snapping her from thoughts. It was Mark, another sibling, with a wide, idiotic grin on his face.
"Hey, boss! You must have given that Apollo little girl one hell of a beating, huh? Bet she's crying still!" Clarisse spun on her heels, eyes blazing with instinctive rage.
"Don't touch me, idiot!" she spat, voice hoarse and sharp as her spear tip.
She shoved his arm away harder than necessary, feeling bile rise in her throat. She hated touches, always had, especially in moments like this, when her skin already felt too thin, too sensitive, as if any contact could crack the armor she barely kept in place.
"Hey, relax, Clarisse. It was just a joke. Victory, right?" Mark stepped back, laughing nervously, hands raised in surrender.
The others exchanged glances, but no one pressed. They knew how she was: a ticking bomb with a short fuse, especially after a fight. They continued marching, their excitement like irritating background noise, while Clarisse followed a bit behind, fists clenched at her sides. Were her siblings out of orbit? No, it was her. Completely out of orbit. The sun beat hard on her armor, making sweat run down her back, but the real heat was inside her, a boiling confusion she could not ignore.
It was only when they reached the camp edge, with the Great Pavilion rising ahead and the smell of pre-lunch food floating in the air, that she noticed. Her right hand flew instinctively to her back, where the electric spear should be strapped. Nothing. Empty holster. Shit. She had left it in the clearing, fallen beside you both during... that. Panic rose fast, but she turned it into something useful, rational. A perfect excuse.
"Hey," she shouted to the group, stopping in place. "Go ahead. Forgot my spear in the forest. Gonna get it before some Hermes idiot grabs it."
"Want us to come along? Might be some blue losers left out there." Sherman turned, frowning.
"No," she shot back, tone cold and cutting, no room for discussion. "I'll handle it alone. Go celebrate, you wimps. I'll be right there."
They shrugged and moved on, their laughter echoing as they joined the crowd forming at the pavilion. Clarisse waited until they were far enough, then turned and headed the opposite way: not back to the clearing, but to an isolated corner of camp, where trees closed into a small private grove, far from the bustle.
The sun filtered through leaves in warm rays, but there, in the shade, the air was cooler, almost suffocating in its quietude. She leaned against a thick trunk, arms crossed over her chest as if protecting herself from herself, and slid to the ground, back scraping rough bark.
Her mind was chaos. Voices shouted inside, not monsters or gods, but her own, accusing, confused. How could you let yourself be vulnerable like that? In front of her? You, Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, who takes down titans and monsters without blinking, lying on the ground like an idiot, letting her see everything? The wet eyes, failing voice, hesitant touch... Damn, you almost cried. Almost.
But she was not regretful. That was the worst: no regret, just a confusion burning like poorly digested ambrosia.
Her words looped in her head like a cursed cycle: "I came back for you... Needed you to see me... I care about you." How? Why? Clarisse huffed low, digging nails into bandaged palms, feeling the familiar pain of recent wounds. She had been horrible to you for years, provocations, training beatings, contemptuous looks that cut deeper than blades.
All to keep distance, to not let anyone close enough to see the cracks. And now? Now you said you cared? That you came back because you needed her? It made no sense. No one truly cared about Clarisse. Not like that. She was the brute, the fierce leader, the one who solved problems with fists and spears. She did not deserve that. Did not deserve someone like you, with those eyes that saw beyond rage, that insisted on poking until finding something human inside.
Part of her wanted to run. Stand up, really get the spear, return to the pavilion and drown it all in celebration: laugh with siblings, beat someone in afternoon training, pretend nothing changed. Feelings? Nonsense. Weaknesses, distractions that killed heroes. Ares had taught her that: fight or die. No room for... whatever that was.
A tingling in her chest, heat rising every time she remembered your face close, lips almost touching. Running was rational. Safe. She could ignore it, wait for it to pass, like a wound healing alone.
But another part, that stubborn, irritating voice, poked back. What if you face it? Seek her now, before lunch, while camp still vibrates with victory.
But say what? Admit feeling the same? That those years of rivalry were just a twisted way to keep you close, because erasing you from her mind was impossible? That the emptiness of recent days, when you pulled away, hurt more than any punch? No. That was irrational. Weak. But... what if it wasn't? What if ignoring only worsened it, like an infected wound you pretend does not exist until it takes you down?
Clarisse closed her eyes, head against the trunk, sun dancing in warm patterns over her skin. The lunch horn would sound soon, forcing her to decide. Run or face. Rational or not, the choice burned inside her like a battle she did not know if she wanted to win.
[...]
When you and Annabeth finally emerged from the winding forest trail, Camp Half-Blood revealed itself in all its chaotic post-capture-the-flag glory. The midday sun beat down hard, turning the air into a wave of humid heat that stuck to sweaty skin. The cabins gleamed under the golden light, their wooden and bronze structures shining as if the gods had given them an extra layer of polish just for the day.
The red team still dominated the center of camp, clustered around the main campfire that crackled lazily even in daylight. Ares children, in red armor marked by dirt and scratches, banged shields against each other in improvised victory rhythms, hoarse voices echoing in provocations and exaggerated battle retellings.
You paused for a moment at the edge of the main field, eyes scanning the celebratory group with an urgency Annabeth noticed but did not comment on. You searched for her instinctively: the tight braid with rebellious curly strands escaping, the wide and imposing posture that overshadowed everyone around, the authoritative gleam in brown eyes that always seemed to hunt for something to challenge.
But nothing. No sign of Clarisse La Rue amid the red pack. Her siblings, tall, muscular, with fresh war marks on their arms, laughed and drank nectar from improvised mugs, but her absence was like a hole in the center of the mess, a leadership missing to turn chaos into brutal order.
Your stomach tied in a slight knot, a subtle doubt seeping in like dew on grass, was she avoiding you? After everything in the clearing? Annabeth nudged your arm.
"Infirmary first. Freak out later."
The cut on your cheek throbbed little now, but still a thin red line that drew curious glances from younger campers passing by. With Clarisse's spear balanced uncomfortably on your shoulder, you headed to the infirmary, an airy cabin nestled near the Big House, its open windows letting in the breeze that stirred fine gauze curtains.
The interior smelled of sweet nectar, caramelized ambrosia, and ground healing herbs, lavender, chamomile, and something citrusy that always reminded you of your father. Polished wooden shelves overflowed with glass jars of glistening ointments, rolled bandages, and elixir vials glowing like liquid gold.
Will Solace was on duty, as usual, leaning over a cluttered table full of scrolls and a mythological anatomy book open to a page on drakon wounds. Your closest sibling, with the same easy smile and eyes echoing Apollo's legacy, looked up as you entered, eyebrows arching in amused surprise.
"Wow, princess of the sun in person, bringing war trophies?" He gestured to a clean stretcher covered by an immaculate white sheet, already grabbing a damp cloth and a bowl of warm water.
You sat with a sigh, feeling the day's weight on sore shoulders, as he cleaned the cut with precise, gentle touches, the cool cloth immediately relieving the sting.
"A little sunlight and Dad does the rest," he teased, tilting his head with a mischievous smile, white teeth contrasting his lightly tanned skin from constant training.
You rolled your eyes, the familiar gesture bringing momentary comfort amid bubbling anxiety.
"Stop joking, Will. I'm not a plant that needs photosynthesis."
"I'm serious," he insisted, laughing low as he applied a thick ointment smelling of wild honey and fresh aloe vera, the cream tingling pleasantly on the skin like internal sun rays. "It'll speed healing in hours instead of days and prevent a scar. Apollo supports sun exposure."
He covered the cut with a light, almost translucent bandage that pulsed with a subtle glow, as if capturing the sun's essence.
That was when his gaze dropped, stopping on the spear leaning against the stretcher, the long black shaft, the sharp tip with familiar electric marks, unmistakable to anyone who trained in the combat circle.
"That's… Clarisse's spear?" he asked, voice lowering a tone, genuine curiosity mixing with a hint of disbelief as he straightened, wiping his hands on a cloth.
You sighed deeply, the sound loaded with something you did not want to name, fingers drumming on the stretcher edge.
"Found it in the forest. She must have forgotten in the game rush." You paused, feigning a casualness you did not feel, heart racing. It was not exactly a lie. "Has she… been here today? Like, to get patched up or something?"
Will shook his head slowly, returning to organize vials on shelves with methodical movements, glass clinking echoing in the quiet space.
"Clarisse never comes to us, you know. Ares daughter ego bigger than Olympus. She thinks she can handle it alone. Stitches cuts with dental floss, uses vodka as antiseptic, or just ignores until it scabs thick."
"Yeah, I know," you murmured, voice low and resigned, echoing the bitter truth the whole camp knew.
Clarisse La Rue was a solitary force: She patched herself in the privacy of cabin 5 with stolen supplies, or did not bother, walked with purple bruises and open cuts like honor medals, refusing any sign of weakness. Asking for help was admitting defeat, and she did not lose. Never.
You picked up the spear again, its weight now an uncomfortable reminder, and left the infirmary with a quick wave to Will, who shouted a "Come back tomorrow for check-up!" before diving back into the book.
The day dragged under the relentless sun. You decided lunch would be the perfect moment: packed pavilion, tables full of steaming grilled meat plates, fresh salads, and golden breads, air filled with conversation buzz and cutlery clinks. You imagined the scene a dozen times while walking there later, trying to rehearse how to approach her. You could not just walk up and say: "Hey, forgot this in the forest after we almost kissed. Want it back?"
Definitely not.
But upon arriving, the pavilion pulsed with life: campers laughing in groups, Chiron supervising from afar with his equine torso gleaming, barbecue smell mixing with ripe fruits and hydromel. The red table was noisy, Ares siblings devouring triple portions as victory reward, but the central chair, Clarisse's informal throne, remained empty, like a screaming void amid chaos.
No heavy steps echoing on grass, no hoarse growl cutting laughter, no pair of brown eyes scanning space like a predator. Your stomach tightened more, anxiety coiling like poisonous ivy, fork spinning absentmindedly in untouched salad while your cabin 7 siblings chattered about the game.
The following hours were a fog of distraction: archery training where arrows flew crooked, hitting target edges instead of centers; superficial conversations with friends who noticed your mental absence but attributed it to game fatigue.
All hopes, fragile and stubborn like spider webs, clung to dinner, the sacred ritual where Chiron took attendance. The sun set slowly, tinting the sky flaming orange and deep purple, pavilion fires lit with cheerful crackles, cool night air bringing toasted marshmallow smell and fireside stories.
But when tables filled again, plates of hot stew, soft breads, and melted ambrosia desserts, her chair remained empty. No sign. The stomach tightness turned suffocating knot, appetite evaporating as thoughts spiraled: she is avoiding me. Regretted the hesitant touch, exposed vulnerability, almost-kiss now seeming unforgivable weakness. Everything in the clearing had been just post-fight adrenaline, a lapse she now buried under layers of anger and denial.
Clarisse La Rue did not do that, not with feelings, not with gentleness, not with you.
When night fell fully, stars dotting the sky like frozen arrows, you returned to the cabin with heavy steps. The cabin smelled of laurel incense and post-training lotions, your siblings settling into bunks with yawns and whispers about the day. You dragged to the bunk below Will's, mattress creaking under weight, top bunk seeming more oppressive than ever.
The spear leaned against the wall within reach, its dark silhouette a silent ghost in the dark. You lacked courage to leave it at the Big House or arsenal, as if returning it without confrontation was admitting defeat.
You lay on your back, eyes fixed on the top mattress, soft sibling snores and distant cricket song filling silence. Doubt weight crushed your chest like ill-fitted armor, what if she hated you now for seeing her without masks? What if the almost was all there would be? Tears threatened, but you blinked them away, turning sideways.
Sleep finally began pulling you down, heavy and irregular, when something changed in the air around you. A subtle weight on the mattress, an almost imperceptible bunk shift, as if the world had tilted a degree. Your eyes snapped open, heart racing before you even understood why.
The cabin was immersed in soft night darkness, broken only by silvery moonlight filtering through high windows, painting bluish stripes on polished wooden floor. Distant low snores and rhythmic sibling breaths filled silence, a comforting reminder you were not alone, until you felt the presence beside you.
Before any sound could escape your throat, a warm, firm hand covered your mouth, fingers pressing carefully but decidedly. Your eyes widened in the dark, panic rising like a cold wave, body tensing to react, to scream, to fight.
"Hey, it's me," came the hoarse whisper, low and urgent, so close to your ear you felt warm breath brush skin.
Recognition was instant, like lightning cutting fear fog. The heart, threatening to explode, slowed a bit, but not completely. It was her. Clarisse. Leaning over your bunk in the middle of the night, invading the Apollo cabin like a shadow, while everyone slept deeply around. She removed her hand slowly, cautiously, as if fearing you would scream anyway, fingers lightly brushing your lips before retracting.
You breathed deeply, cool night air filling lungs, and words came in whispered impulse, loaded with relief, irritation, and disbelief.
"And that is supposed to make me calmer how?"
Clarisse rolled her eyes, you saw the movement even in dim light, that familiar gesture always accompanying her provocations, and responded with a low grumble.
"Shut up, princess."
Only then did you fully realize what was happening. Your stomach flipped violently, butterflies mixed with vertigo, when you noticed how close she was: leaning over you, body braced on one arm beside your head, dark curls loose falling like a curtain around her face, some strands brushing your forehead.
Bluish moonlight filtered through nearby window, illuminating half her face in silvery tones, brown eyes softer than ever, jaw less locked, mouth parted as if words were stuck. She smelled of fresh shower, woody soap mixed with something clean, fresh, as if she had scrubbed off the entire day before coming there.
No trace of training sweat or forest dirt, just Clarisse, vulnerable in a way you never imagined.
Heat rose to your cheeks in immediate blush, burning to ears. Clearing memories returned like a flash. Her body under yours, hesitant touch, interrupted almost-kiss. And worse: you realized, with delayed shock, what you were wearing.
Just short summer pajamas, thin shorts and an old tank top, rumpled from restless sleep, hair probably a total mess, sheets tangled around legs. You felt exposed, small under her gaze, and instinctively pulled the blanket a little higher, even if too late.
"What are you doing here?" you whispered, voice coming weaker than intended, eyes fixed on hers seeking some answer that made sense.
Clarisse's expressions changed almost imperceptibly, but you caught them all, because for the first time, you were truly looking. Her gaze shifted sideways, fixing on some dark cabin spot, lips pressing into a thin line. She seemed… nervous. Hands now braced on mattress beside you trembled lightly, shoulders, usually so straight and challenging, slightly hunched forward.
It was the first time you saw her like this. Were you dreaming? Your heart pounded so loud you feared she heard.
What felt like eternity passed, long, dense seconds filled only by distant outdoor cricket and her breathing, a bit faster than normal. Then, finally, she whispered, voice so low you almost asked to repeat.
"Come with me."
Without waiting for response, Clarisse rose slowly, movements silent and fluid like someone used to moving unnoticed, even if normally the loudest in camp. You noticed then she was barefoot, bare feet in white socks reaching just above ankles. She slid off the bunk without a creak, cast one last quick, almost shy glance at you, and left the cabin as silently as she entered, door closing with a soft click behind her.
You lay there for a few seconds, heart still racing, staring at the top bunk as if it could offer logical explanation. Cabin air seemed heavier now, charged with the presence she left behind, subtle soap smell, residual mattress warmth.
Part of you wanted to turn sideways and pretend nothing happened, return to previous restless sleep. But the larger, more stubborn part was already moving. You sat slowly, feet touching cold wooden floor, without even thinking to grab a hoodie. Just in socks too, like her.
Upon opening the huge door and closing it behind with utmost care, cool night breeze hit like a slap. Air was chilly, loaded with damp pine and dewy grass smell, starry sky above cloudless blocking silvery-blue moonlight bathing entire camp. Your hairs stood immediately, skin goosebumping in waves as you hugged yourself, rubbing arms to generate some warmth.
Clarisse was sitting on the porch steps, back slightly hunched, arms braced on knees covered by worn gray sweatpants. Hands were interlaced in front, fingers fidgeting restlessly, as if not knowing where to rest. Beside her, on the lower step, was a pair of black All Stars with worn soles and frayed laces, which she had clearly removed to sneak into the cabin silently.
Her brown eyes were fixed on nothing ahead: on the dirt path leading to the dark pavilion, on the shadows of the other silent cabins, on the distant lake reflecting moonlight like a broken mirror.
She did not turn when you approached, but you saw her shoulders tense slightly, she knew you were there. The silence between you was dense, almost palpable, broken only by the whisper of wind in the trees and the occasional hoot of an owl far away. You stopped beside the steps, still hugging your own body against the cold, heart beating so hard it seemed to echo in the quiet night, waiting for her to say something, do something, anything that explained why she had crossed the entire camp in the middle of the night just to pull you from bed.
Clarisse let out a long, almost inaudible sigh, loaded with something that seemed like exhaustion mixed with resignation. Her shoulders rose and fell slowly, as if gathering courage for something small, but that for her was gigantic.
"Can you sit?" she asked, hoarse voice keeping that typical Clarisse tone, half order, half challenge, as if asking anything was a battle she was willing to lose just this once.
You rolled your eyes, an automatic gesture that helped disguise the chill climbing your spine and the blush that stubbornly refused to fade. Without saying anything, you descended the last steps and sat beside her on the cold wooden step, curling up immediately against the night breeze. The thin socks protected nothing from the icy wood, and you crossed your arms around your knees, trying to hold onto the little warmth left.
Your shoulders were inches apart, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, far enough that the space seemed like an abyss. You did not move closer. Not yet.
The silence stretched between you like a tightrope. The night was so quiet you could hear the distant lake lapping the shore, the occasional rustle of leaves in trees, the minimal crackle of a nearly extinguished campfire in the camp center. You waited. Waited for her to say anything, an insult, a provocation, even a "get out of here" would be better than nothing. But Clarisse just stared ahead, eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond the dark cabins, hands still interlaced, thumbs fidgeting restlessly against each other.
Minutes dragged. The cold began climbing your legs, and patience, never your greatest virtue, began to fray. Finally, you whispered, voice low and a bit trembling.
"Please, say something."
Clarisse turned her head suddenly, eyes blazing for a second with that familiar anger.
"I'm trying, damn it!" she shot back, tone higher than intended, immediately lowering her voice upon realizing the risk of waking someone.
The words came out rough, defensive, as if you had poked an open wound, thrusting a spear into what she hated most to admit: weakness. You raised your eyebrows, looking at her with a clear expression of "girl, seriously?". You did not need to say anything, the look spoke for itself.
Clarisse noticed. Her shoulders slumped a little, and she looked away again, curls falling like a curtain over her face. The gesture was so small, so subtle, head lowering a centimeter, fingers interlacing tighter, that it was almost a silent apology. She breathed deeply, air coming out white in the night cold, and fell quiet again.
You sighed, the soft sound lost in the wind. Your heart still beat fast, but now there was tenderness mixed with anxiety, because you understood. Understood how hard that was for her. So, with the softest voice you could manage, you asked.
"Where were you? All day?" Clarisse did not answer immediately.
You saw her jaw work, as if chewing words before releasing them. She felt the gesture in your voice, the absence of accusation, just genuine concern, and something in her posture relaxed, almost imperceptibly. She appreciated that in silence, eyes softening for an instant before looking ahead again.
"I needed to think," she murmured finally, voice now calm, almost soft, something so rare coming from her it seemed borrowed from someone else. Low enough not to wake anyone, but clear enough for you to hear every syllable.
You turned your face to her, moonlight illuminating her profile, straight nose, full lips, thin scar on her eyebrow you had never noticed up close.
"And… what did you think about?" Silence again. Long.
The wind blew stronger for a moment, stirring her curls against your cheek, and you saw her fingers start playing with the poorly tied bandage on her hands. Then, almost as if words were being pulled out, she asked, voice hesitant.
"Do you… remember the day you arrived here?" You blinked, surprised.
"How could I forget? You pushed me into the lake." A small smile, half nostalgic, half ironic, curved your lips.
Clarisse's face burned immediately, even in dim light, you saw blush rise to her cheeks, eyes widening for a second before looking away again. She murmured something incoherent, seeming truly embarrassed.
"A little before that…" she corrected, voice even lower, almost a secret.
You tilted your head, waiting. The cold forgotten for an instant, curiosity taking over. Clarisse breathed deeply, shoulders rising and falling.
"You were at the top of the hill. With Chiron. Under Thalia's tree." She paused, as if reliving the scene, tone hardening slightly, as if words were enemies she needed to subdue. "I was patrolling the outskirts, because, yeah, someone has to do the shitty dirty work while others pose as heroes. Then I saw you, all… messed up. Wide eyes like a deer in headlights, backpack slipping off your shoulder as if you did not know what to do with your own hands."
You felt your heart leap, air caught in lungs. You did not expect that. Never. Clarisse continued, voice hoarse and halting now, as if each sentence was a punch she gave herself to keep going.
"But the sun was hitting you in a way… damn, you looked like you were on fire. Hair in flames, skin all lit up, even those scared eyes seemed… I don't know, strong. As if you were made for all that. I stopped. Stopped the patrol and just stood watching, frozen like an idiot, feeling something here inside that punched me in the stomach." She brought her hand to her chest for a second, bandaged fingers digging into the thin t-shirt, before lowering it quickly, as if burned.
"That fucked me up. Scared the hell out of me. I did not understand what the hell that was, hot, tight, as if I wanted to hit something or run. So I decided I hated you. That you were just another stuck-up demigod, full of light and cuteness, who could not handle a real fight. It was easier to fight, provoke, to see you get pissed. Because if I hated you… I did not have to deal with all that shit. Did not have to admit it was something else eating me alive."
She stopped, heavy silence returning. Her eyes still fixed ahead, but now wet, gleaming under moonlight. Her breathing was irregular, chest rising and falling as if words had been a hand-to-hand fight.
"But it was not hate," she completed, voice breaking at the end, hard like rusted iron. "It never was that shit. It was… something else. Something I do not know how to name, because I was not made for that. I am made to break things, not to… feel." The last words came almost spat, as if they hurt in her throat, but she did not stop, eyes finally turning to yours for a second, vulnerable, but still with that stubborn fire that was only hers.
You were speechless for a moment, night cold forgotten, heart beating so loud it seemed to echo in camp quietude. You did not move. Did not want to move. Did not want her to stop.
Because, for the first time, Clarisse La Rue was talking. Truly, even if words came out hard, full of curses and resistance, as if fighting her own feelings to let them out.
Clarisse fell quiet for a moment that seemed eternal, night silence deepening around you like a cold blanket. She still stared ahead, brown eyes lost in the dark void of sleeping camp, jaw locked as if in an internal fight.
Then, as if words were choking her, she continued, hoarse and halting voice exploding in a raw stream, unfiltered, as if vomiting something rotten she had swallowed years ago.
"I could not stop being an idiot anymore, because I am an idiot with everyone. Jesus… I hate everyone in this camp! I..." The words came out hard, spat with self-directed anger, tone rising a bit at the end before she lowered it again, a low growl escaping her throat as if hating her own voice for betraying her. "...hate even myself."
She shook her head, curls whipping the air, fists clenching so hard you heard knuckles crack.
"Everyone is weak, everyone runs, everyone annoys me with shit, they cannot even take a proper punch. I yell, I hit, I break, that's what I do, damn it! That's what Ares taught me to be. But you…" She paused, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling under the thin gray cotton t-shirt, sticking lightly to damp post-shower skin.
"You bit back. Always. And then I got worse, because I did not want you to stop. Did not want you to become like the others, those worms who disappear after a beating." Her woody soap smell mixed with cold air, invading your senses, and you saw her jaw muscle pulse, as if biting her tongue not to explode completely.
Her eyes finally flicked to yours for a second, quick, feral, full of confusion she tried to mask with fury, before returning to nothing.
"But I was sure I had fucked everything up that day," she murmured, voice lowering to a guttural growl, referring to the last training, that combat circle where you had suddenly abandoned the fight, turning your back and deciding to ignore her from then on. "That shitty training, where you just… stopped. Vanished. I saw you walking away, and it was like I had taken a kick to the stomach.."
Clarisse huffed, a rough and self-deprecating sound, running her hand over her face as if wanting to erase the memory.
"I was not angry at you… no. It was anger at myself, anger for always doing everything wrong, anger for being afraid of something I did not understand what it was and I do not feel fear! Or at least… I should not." The words stumbled out, hard like stones thrown against a wall, full of curses and denials she used as shields.
She leaned forward, elbows dug into knees, worn All Stars beside her creaking lightly against the step as she shifted her restless foot, bumping them.
"I am Ares's daughter, damn it! Fear is for cowards, for those who skip training and cry in the cabin. But you… you left me with this bad feeling, like a hole here," she hit her chest again, harder this time, muffled sound echoing in night silence. "I punched trees to shut it up, cut campers to vent, stayed alone all day because if I saw you again, shining with that damn bow in hand, I would explode. Or worse: I would say something stupid and fuck everything up for good."
The silence that followed was dense, broken only by distant cricket song and wind stirring nearby tree leaves, as if the forest was holding its breath to listen. Clarisse did not look at you, could not, eyes fixed on the ground now, on white socks, curls falling like a barrier over her flushed face of shame and frustration.
Her whole body trembled lightly, not just from cold, but from releasing all that, feelings she did not know how to name, colliding against a lifetime's training of being tough, relentless, unbreakable. Her hands, rough and marked by old scars, opened and closed repeatedly, as if wanting to grasp the spear not there, as if fighting was easier than admitting.
You sat motionless beside her, heart pounding against ribs, thin pajamas now icy against goosebumped skin. Moonlight painted soft shadows on her face, highlighting tension lines around her mouth, wet gleam in eye corners she blinked furiously to chase away.
It was Clarisse La Rue, the same who commanded training with a growl, who took down opponents without blinking, reduced to this: a hoarse confession, full of "damn" and "idiot," trying to navigate territory she hated, that terrified her more than any monster. And yet, she was there. Invading your cabin. Waking you. Talking. For you.
The silence following Clarisse's confession was so dense it seemed to have its own weight. The entire night seemed to hold its breath: wind stopped blowing, crickets fell silent, even the distant lake seemed to stop rippling. You felt her words settle in your chest like embedded arrows, painful but true, impossible to ignore. Your heart beat irregularly, early morning cold now forgotten, replaced by heat rising in your throat threatening to overflow.
Without saying anything, you stood slowly. The step creaked softly under your socked bare feet, sound echoing like a shot in absolute silence. You did not look at her, could not. Just turned and walked back to the cabin door, steps light, almost inaudible, short pajamas swaying against goosebumped skin. The door opened with a soft click and closed behind you with the same care, leaving Clarisse alone on the porch.
Outside, Clarisse closed her eyes tightly. Her head dropped forward, dark curls covering her face like a heavy curtain. A trembling sigh escaped her lips, not of relief, but absolute defeat. She had fucked everything up. Again. The voices in her head, those always shouting louder than anything else, "weakness is death," "feelings are for the weak," "vulnerability is the fastest path to a blade in the back," now laughed hysterically.
She should have listened. Should have stayed quiet, continued with usual anger, provocations, fights. It was safer. It was what she knew.
Anger rose hot in her throat, bitter as bile. Anger at herself for coming there, for invading the cabin in the middle of the night, for opening her mouth and letting out those stupid, soft words that did not belong to an Ares daughter. Anger for showing this side, this pathetic, trembling side she buried deep every day.
Hands clenched into fists, knuckles throbbing under old, poorly tied bandages stained with dried blood. She thought of standing, leaving, returning to the Ares cabin and pretending none of this happened. Tomorrow she could be the same old Clarisse: tough, relentless, untouchable. No one needed to know.
She was almost rising, leg muscles tensed, when she felt something warm and soft envelop her hands.
Her eyes snapped open. You were there, kneeling on the step below her, facing her, knees on cold wood. Moonlight bathed your face, eyes shining with something she could not name, sleep-messed hair falling over shoulders, short pajamas exposing goosebumped skin. In your lap, you held a roll of new, clean white bandages, taken from the Apollo cabin reserve.
Clarisse blinked, confused, entire body locking. Before she could ask anything, you, with the most delicate care she had ever seen in her life, held her hands in yours. Warm, soft fingers slid under old bandages, beginning to undo them slowly, knot by knot.
"You know," your voice came choked, hoarse with emotion, as some tears you had not even noticed were there slid silently down your cheeks and dripped on the step between you, "You should start visiting the infirmary once in a while."
Clarisse felt a knot rise in her throat, so tight it hurt. Her lips trembled. She tried to speak, but only a hoarse, lost "…What?" came out, as if not recognizing her own voice.
She burned inside. Did not know what to do with that, with the soft touch of your fingers undoing dirty bandages, revealing swollen, cut, purple knuckles from so many punches on trees and training bags. Did not know what to do with the warm, careful feeling of you wrapping new, clean bandages, tightening just right, protecting without suffocating.
It was so different from everything she knew. So different from pain, impact, fight.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice low, almost scared, eyes fixed on your hands working.
You did not answer immediately. Finished bandaging the second hand with a firm but gentle knot, then held both her hands in yours, palms against palms, fingers interlaced for a second. You leaned slowly and deposited a light, almost reverent kiss on the back of each bandaged hand. Your lips' touch was warm, soft, lingering enough for her to feel every second.
"Taking care of you, idiot," you whispered against her skin, voice choked but full of something that seemed like affection, relief, certainty.
Clarisse froze. Completely froze. As if any movement could break the moment, as if breathing too deep could make everything disappear. A tear, a single stubborn tear, formed on the waterline of her brown eyes, trembling there for long seconds, defying gravity. Clarisse La Rue did not cry. Never.
You saw how she became rigid, and panicked immediately.
"Was that too much? I'm sorry, I just…" you began babbling, voice speeding up, hands squeezing hers hard as if afraid she would leave. "I did not want to pressure you, I just saw your hands and thought that… I just…"
You stopped mid-sentence.
Because the tear had fallen.
A single drop, but saying everything Clarisse never knew how to put into words: gratitude, fear, relief, vulnerability, something too big to fit in her chest. She did not move to wipe it. Did not blink. Just let it exist, there, on her face, like silent proof that something inside her had broken, not badly, but necessarily.
Silence returned, but now it was different. Lighter. Warmer.
Clarisse released your hands slowly, as if the gesture hurt, or as if fearing that letting go would make you disappear. For a second, she just looked at the new white bandages wrapping her own fists, perfect knots you had made, as if not believing it was real.
Then, with a slowness not hers, she who always acted fast, rough, decisive, raised her hands and held your face between them.
The newly bandaged palms were warm, rough at edges where old scars never faded, but the touch was unbelievably gentle, almost reverent. Her thumbs slid over your cheeks, feeling salty wetness of tears still running, wiping them with slow, circular movements, as if wanting to memorize every inch of your skin.
The heat of her hands contrasted with night cold still clinging to your face, and Clarisse felt subtle tremor of your facial muscles under her fingers, red nose from recent crying, wet and stuck lashes, short breath coming in warm puffs against her palms. When her right thumb brushed the bandage on the cut she herself had caused hours before in the clearing, Clarisse hesitated, movement stopped, brown eyes fixing there with guilt burning in her chest like ember.
She caressed the bandage edge with fingertip, almost without pressure, feeling slightly raised texture of swollen skin underneath, as if she could erase the damage just with will, as if she could go back in time and deflect the spear.
"You could never be too much," she murmured, voice hoarse, low, almost broken, words coming as if scratching her throat, but loaded with certainty that made her chest tighten even more.
She felt her own heart pounding against ribs, blood pulsing in ears, heat rising up neck to ears.
She stayed like that for a long moment, just looking at you. Moonlight bathed her face from the side, highlighting red nose from effort not to cry more, still wet lashes, full parted lips as if breathing with difficulty. And you, kneeling there, had never seemed so beautiful to her.
Clarisse felt something inside her chest expand painfully, as if it no longer fit there: the smell of your hair mixed with the night air, the soft warmth of your breath against her face, the softness of the skin she touched with such care that it seemed impossible coming from hands that only knew how to break things.
Suddenly, as if she had taken a shock, she snapped back to reality. Quickly, with the back of her left hand, she wiped her own tear that still stubbornly lingered on her cheek, a rough, almost violent gesture, rubbing hard as if it hurt to admit it existed, completely different from the delicacy with which she had touched you. As if she herself did not deserve the same care.
She cleared her throat loudly, the dry sound echoing in the quiet night, and bent down to slip on the worn All Stars without tying the laces, just shoving her feet in hastily, feeling the worn and cold leather brush her ankles. The movement was abrupt, the shoes creaking against the wooden step, as if she wanted to regain the control she always had.
She extended her hand to you, palm up, fingers still trembling lightly.
"Come on, get up."
You obeyed, legs still shaky from the cold and emotion, accepting her help, the firm, warm touch that sent a shiver up your spine. When you stood, Clarisse immediately looked away, sniffling loudly, pretending a casualness that fooled no one, shoulders rigid, jaw locked, her heart beating so hard she feared you heard.
"It's cold out here," she said, voice firmer now, almost authoritative, but with a subtle tremor at the end. "Better you go back inside."
The words hit like a cold arrow. You felt a drop of disappointment, small but sharp, settle in your chest, like ice melting slowly. You did not know exactly what you were expecting: for her to stay, to say more, to repeat the hand-on-face gesture, that… something beyond a practical goodbye. But "go back inside" sounded like an end, as if she was hiding again.
You just nodded, murmuring an almost inaudible "okay," took a step back and turned to the door, heart tightening with that feeling of broken expectation.
Clarisse watched it all with narrowed eyes, heart pounding against her ribs like an uncontrolled war drum. She closed her eyes tightly, cursing herself silently in her mind: coward, idiot, fearful Ares daughter. An Ares daughter feared nothing. Not monsters, not war, not beautiful women who looked at her as if she was worth it, women who bandaged her hurt hands and kissed her fists as if they were something precious.
Before you could take the second step, her hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist firmly, not rough, but decided, warm fingers closing like a cuff that did not want to imprison, but hold. The pull was quick, unexpected, making you spin and let out a surprised yelp that died in the air when her lips collided with yours.
It was just a peck, brief but intense. Clarisse's lips were soft, unbelievably soft for someone so rough all the time, warm and slightly trembling against yours that were still cold from the night. She tasted the salty of your tears mixed with the natural sweet of your mouth, the warmth of your breath fusing with hers, entire body shivering when you stood on tiptoes to adjust to her height.
Her arms slid immediately to your waist, wrapping you with instinctive possessiveness, bandaged hands pressing against your back, pulling your body against hers as if afraid you would escape, feeling the heat of your thin pajamas against her t-shirt fabric, the subtle tremor of your muscles, heart beating fast against her chest.
When you pulled apart, just a few centimeters, foreheads remained pressed, both eyes closed, noses brushing casually in an accidental caress that made the air between you seem electric. Panting breaths mixed in the cold air, her soap smell still strong, now mixed with yours.
With the rest of courage she could gather, voice coming hoarse, almost breathless, chest rising and falling fast, Clarisse whispered against your mouth.
"Wanted to do it the right way, take you on a date first. But Jesus… I think I couldn't hold out anymore."
You could not hold it. A low, light laugh escaped your lips, not mocking, but pure joy, relief, finding grace in her awkward and honest way.
"You can still take me on a date," you replied, voice soft, slipping your arms around her neck, fingers tangling in soft curls and caressing her nape with a delicacy that made Clarisse shiver from head to toe, a visible tremor climbing her spine, making her shoulders tense and heat explode in her stomach, something new, unknown, that left her dizzy.
"Alright… okay, cool," she replied half groggy, clearing her throat right after, clearly not knowing what to do with her hands (still gripping your waist hard), with her body (pressed to yours), with the closeness making blood pulse in her ears.
Her eyes blinked fast, lost, as if in completely unknown territory, your body lotion smell invading her senses, your skin heat burning through thin clothes.
She dominated arenas, captured flags, decapitated monsters with sword-sized teeth. But Clarisse La Rue was a complete novice at love, and that was obvious in every inch of her tense body, in short breath, in the way fingers tightened and released your waist as if not knowing the right strength.
You held back another laugh seeing how lost she seemed, vulnerable in a way no one ever saw. But you would teach her. Teach everything about love to the war god's daughter.
"Good," she said finally, voice trying to sound firm but coming halting, "better you go sleep and… we talk about this tomorrow."
You raised your gaze slowly, eyes still wet and shining with residue of tears and that raw emotion pulsing in your chest like an exposed heart. They locked immediately on her lips, plump, slightly swollen from the quick first peck, with a pinkish tone contrasting tanned and warmed skin, so inviting they seemed to beg for more contact. Tempting too much.
You bit your own lower lip slowly, teeth sinking into soft, moist flesh, an instinctive gesture only intensifying growing need in your stomach, like butterflies turning hurricane. Your eyes half-closed in a needy, almost pleading expression, pupils dilated in porch dimness, reflecting faint moonlight filtering through distant trees.
Clarisse felt the impact of that look straight in her chest. Her own eyes widened for a fraction of second, heart pounding against ribs with force echoing in ears, too loud, uncontrolled. The whiny voice coming from you caught her off guard, like a low blow in a fight she thought she dominated.
"Okay…" you whispered, voice low, drawn out, with sweet and imploring tone making Clarisse's nape hairs stand, electric tingling descending arms. "…but give me one last kiss."
The words came like a soft purr, vibrating in cold air between you, and Clarisse swallowed hard, throat dry and tight, feeling heat rise up neck to cheeks. She nodded once, hoarse, lips parting without sound, as if words had fled her. She leaned slowly, hesitant, offering another chaste peck, controlled, safe, the kind not leaving her so vulnerable.
But you would not accept control that easily.
In the middle of the kiss, with lips still pressed to hers in a light peck, you whispered against her mouth, warm and moist breath brushing sensitive skin, making her shudder.
"No… a real kiss."
Before Clarisse could process, before she could pull back or advance, your hands rose quickly to her face. Fingers fit into her cheekbones, warm and firm against smooth and heated skin, and you pulled her to you with urgency leaving no room for doubt. Clarisse let out a surprised sound, a hoarse and muffled grunt deep in her throat, half shock, half surrender, when your lips met again, but this time nothing chaste.
You took initiative, parting her lips with yours slowly, tongue tracing lower contour with provocative slowness, moist and hot, inviting her into rhythm. Clarisse hesitated for a second, awkward, initial movements rigid, as if her body, used to precise and brutal strikes, did not know how to be gentle.
Her lips moved against yours uncertainly at first, opening and closing in mismatched fit, shampoo and woody soap smell invading your senses. She held back her own moan, heat spreading like fire through her belly.
But you guided, persistent: tongue sliding inside her mouth slowly, exploring with slow curiosity, tracing roof of mouth, brushing hers in experienced movements making air heavier, more electric. Clarisse responded gradually, lips opening more, body relaxing against yours, bandaged hands on your waist tightening firmer, fingers digging into thin pajama fabric, feeling your skin heat underneath, subtle muscle tremor.
The kiss gained depth: lips opening and closing in slow, rhythmic pace, fitting perfectly, like puzzle pieces always knowing where to go.
You bit her plump lower lip slowly, teeth sinking into soft and full flesh with light pressure, but enough to draw hoarse and surprised sound from her, muffled moan vibrating against your mouth. Clarisse's entire body reacted: hands tightened more, pulling you against her until bodies pressed, hips pressing hips, heat mixing in wave rising through her chest.
She tilted her head slightly sideways, deepening the kiss, and that was when her tongue, hesitant at first but now more confident, brushed yours in a particularly delicious way: slow and moist movement, pressing tip against yours, exploring with hot pressure sending sparks through your body.
You could not hold it, low and needy moan escaped your lips, muffled against her mouth, vibrating directly on Clarisse's tongue. The sound was soft, hoarse, like pleasure-loaded sigh, and echoed inside her like revelation. Clarisse froze for half second, eyes snapping open, wide and dilated in dimness, chest heaving, and then something inside her broke completely, like a dam bursting.
Life was not just training and spinning a spear.
It was not just metal clang against metal, sweat running down back during hours of practice, metallic blood taste in mouth after hard victory. It was that: the sound you made when she kissed you right, a moan reverberating in her chest like sweeter victory than any captured flag.
It was your mouth taste, moist and hot, way your tongue danced with hers in languid movements, sending shivers down spine making knees weak. It was heat rising in belly, tingling in bandaged hands now sliding down your back, tracing spine curve with possessive pressure, fingers tangling in nape hair to keep you pressed, anchoring to something real and soft.
Clarisse kissed you as if discovering a new world, awkward at first, but now hungry, movements gaining fluidity, entire body throbbing with sensations she never allowed herself to feel: brush of your breasts against her chest through thin clothes, thigh tremor when you pressed closer, your lotion smell mixing with hers, creating something new and intoxicating.
When you finally pulled apart, air running out in lungs, chests rising and falling in unison, foreheads pressed again, sweaty and hot, heavy breaths mixing in night cold like fog. Clarisse was trembling entirely, not from cold: swollen and red lips, glistening with kiss moisture, glassy and lost eyes, almost pleading, pupils so dilated brown seemed swallowed by black.
She opened her mouth, tried to say something, anything to break charged silence, but only hoarse and halting sigh came out, air escaping sensitive lips.
You smiled slowly, thumbs tracing her cheekbones with deliberate slowness, feeling feverish skin heat, light tremor under fingers.
"Good night, Clarisse," you whispered, voice hoarse and low, loaded with kiss residue.
You leaned again, pressing a few slow and soft pecks on her lips, one, two, three, each longer than previous: lips meeting with moist softness, brushing slowly, residual kiss taste still there.
Hands descended her arms as you pulled away gradually, fingers tracing firm and tense biceps, feeling muscles contract under touch, down forearms, to wrists, where her pulse beat fast against your skin. Finally, you released completely, fingers slipping through hers in last brush, leaving residual tingling in air.
Clarisse stood there, arms falling inert at sides, chest still heaving, eyes fixed on you as you entered the door, silhouette disappearing in cabin welcoming dimness. She brought hand to lips slowly, touching where you had bitten and kissed, feeling throbbing sensitivity, and let out low, incredulous laugh, almost hysterical, sound echoing in quiet night.
"Fuck…" she murmured to herself, pressing forehead to cold and rough porch column wood, icy contrast against hot skin anchoring her back to reality. Heart still racing, entire body throbbing with new and insistent heat, something definitely not anger or training fatigue.
For the first time in her life, Clarisse La Rue did not want to fight.
And tomorrow, when the sun rose, illuminating camp with its golden light, she would come get you.
i looove how akotsk manages to portray even the friendliest ruling houses. lyonel is warm, funny, he pulls dunk close and doesn't get offended by his honesty but he's also quick to assume service and submission from everyone around him. he laughs and jests but you can tell that he can turn dangerous if he's not obeyed (peak PEAK baratheon design). baelor is caring, kind, soft spoken but he's also rigid. his care and favor has to be earned in intricate ways. He can tolarate some ill-spoken words but if he thinks you are stupid all that favor is gone.
Hotd and got is very focused on the ruling houses themselves, so you always see a more level playing field. You get used to tyrion and cersei using normal people in their war. You are on a plane watching the scenery below.
Akotsk pulls you down and says look, see that plane? You will never reach it. You will always serve. The people on that plane will never love you or care about you. You matter as long as you obey them, even if they smile at your silliness or help you in a few ways.
Pairing: Jake Sully x fem!reader
Summary: Jake and reader get back from hunting and cuddle under the stars
Word Count: 720
╰┈➤ I Cannot Lose You
Pairing: Jake Sully x fem!reader
Summary: Reader gets injured on a hunt, jake is not ready to let go
Word Count: 1465
╰┈➤Something Beautiful Is On The Horizon
Pairing: Jake Sully x fem!reader
Summary: Jake and reader haven’t had a day off in a while, so Jake plans a simple night for the two of them to enjoy
Word Count: 1k
╰┈➤Family Is One Of Nature's Masterpieces
Pairing: Jake Sully x fem!reader
Summary: To get their energetic kids to bed, Reader and Jake tell them the story of how they fell in love
Word Count: 1.6k
╰┈➤You Can Be The Moon And Still Be Jealous Of The Stars
Pairing: (2009) Jake Sully x fem!Na’vi!reader
Summary: Jake miss understands a situation between reader and another, and becomes jealous ;)
Word Count: 1.4k
╰┈➤Dating Members of the Sully Family Hcs
Pairings: Lo’ak, Neteyam, Kiri, Neytiri, and Jake, x reader (individual)
Warnings: none :) fluff and not proof read
Word Count: 2.1k
┈➤ Platonic ✧.*
┈┈┈➤Daughter!reader
╰┈➤Grief Is The Price We Pay For Love
Pairing: Dad!Jake Sully x Daughter!reader (platonic)
Summary: Jake can’t stop seeing Tsu’tey in his oldest daughter
Word Count: 1.7k
╰┈➤Betrayal Series:
➤Betrayal Is The Only Truth That Sticks (Part 1)
Pairing: Sully Family x fem!reader
Summary: Sully family ignores reader for most her life, until her life starts to get better in the Metkayina clan as they take her under their wing
Word Count: 4.3k
➤Betrayal Is An Inherent Part Of Love (Part 2)
Pairing: Sully Family, Metkayina Clan, Ao’nung x fem!Sully!reader
Summary: Reader finds her place in the Metkayina clan, as well as something more
Word Count: 10k
Pairing: Sully Family, Metkayina Clan, Ao’nung x fem!Sully!reader
Summary: Reader finds her place in the Metkayina clan, as well as something more
Word Count: 10k
Warnings: angst, swearing? brief mentions of mating
A/n: The awaited part 2! Thanks for waiting as well as all of the support on the first one! Also, I didn’t proof read it, might do that later. Anyway I put a lot of time an effort into this! Enjoy! <333
Part 1: Betrayal Is The Only Truth That Sticks
Masterlist
[Name] tried to rid all thoughts from her head as she took a sharp turn around a coral covered rock. If she wanted to win this race, she would have to stay focused. She signalled her Ilu to take another sharp turn to avoid one of the other racers. Manoeuvring out of the way, she watched as the Metkayina girl beside her caught up. Making a quick move, her Ilu crossed directly in front of the other girl, cutting her off. The girl’s Ilu was spooked, causing the girl to slow down leaving [Name] to get ahead.
The races had started pretty soon after [Name] was accepted in to the group, and since then have only become more competitive. The first few races were just for fun, another thing to do in spare time. But as the months went on, the races had become more of a proof of skill. A way to prove that you were better than others and to show who was best rider in the reef.
[Name] knew the path like the back of her hand and every precise turn reflected that. Her movements were quick but smooth, helping her move through the path with speed. [Name] would pass other riders and rocks swiftly, not fearing when she was only inches away from obstacles.
As she looked over to her left, she found Ao’nung’s quick movements matching her own. Now just barely a head, his Ilu blocked her vision as the path narrowed. She had to move by memory, her sharp turns were reliant on the movement of his body and her memory alone. As she struggled to match his movements, her mind flickered to the feeling of the water.
Even when rushing in her face, [Name] found herself at home within the sea. The warm waters of the Metkayina have brought her great happiness over the past few months. Only a few months less than a year ago, she was still tormented by the separation she felt from her family. It had only been when the kids of the Metkayina took her in that she finally learned what family felt like.
Over the last few months, she had finally felt free from the prison in her mind. A prison she was backed into when she was just a young child begging for love she would not receive. She had become best friends with many of the Metkayina kids, choosing to spend time with them instead of her family. And when that caused tension in the Sully family, her friends were there to save her, welcoming her into their homes.
Although [Name] never need to stay in other’s houses, for the day that [Name] finally turned her back on the family that had neglected her, was the same day that Ao’nung’s parents, Ronal and Tonowari, let her in their family.
[Name] was never alone from that point, never left to tame the demons in her mind on her own. No, from that point on, the entirety of the clan had given their attention and love to [Name]. Even just from the Metkayina kids telling their parents, majority of the clan had known of the crimes of the Sully family. Although they tried not to show their feelings towards the Sully family, the stares always seemed to slip out when a Sully member was in [Name]’s general vicinity.
The protective nature of the Metkayina clan over [Name] made her heart warm, like a warm dish on a cold night. Although [Name] appreciated the Metkayina clan as a collective, she enjoyed individuals of the Metkayina clan even more.
[Name]’s friends had loved her from the start, even before they met when she was just beginning to learn their ways. [Name]’s genuine interest and quick skill was intriguing to them. But as the time went on, it was really her personality and kindness that kept them coming back for more.
Ao’nung made a sharp turn into an open area, catching [Name] off guard. It only took a short beat before [Name] realized that this open area was the last stretch of the race. In a quick jerk, [Name] moved her Ilu beside Ao’nung’s, her mind focusing on the finish line. The line was really just two rocks that the Ilu’s would swim between, but it meant so much more as their friends not in the race floated around the rocks, waiting to see who was the winner.
The race was close, Ao’nung and [Name] swimming side-by-side. [Name]’s Ilu creeping in front of Ao’nung’s was enough for determination to flood Ao’nung’s face. He broke into a grin and as they approached the finish line, Ao’nung’s Ilu darted forward, taking the place of [Name]’s between the rocks. Only when Ao’nung’s Ilu started to slow in front of her, did [Name] realize that they had passed the finish line.
Fists pumped in the water and the muffled sound of cheers bubbled from around them. The feeling of adrenaline started to wane as [Name] looked around her. Ao’nung was looking at her with a very familiar look to [Name], a grin plastered on his face.
Ao’nung had won.
As the group made it to the surface, the cheering only got louder, and the shouting of Ao’nung’s name became clear. Even as they were applauding his name, Ao’nung’s eyes stayed firmly placed on [Name], his smirk not wavering as [Name] stare right back at him. Other’s started to pop their heads out of the water as other racers completed the race. A few of the Na’vi not racing, began clapping the racer’s backs, telling them how well they did. A few close to Ao’nung did that to him as well, but his eyes stayed locked on [Name]’s.
[Name] rolled her eyes before smirking. Ao’nung, as stubborn as always, never gave up, did he? The water rippled around them, evidence that there were still people around them and not just the two of them in their own world. As Ao’nung’s amused expression remained, [Name] let out a light hearted huff, shaking her head.
“Good game. You beat me,” [Name] said, trying to keep some level of maturity as she felt her competitive nature creep up.
She never was able to be competitive as a kid, never able to compete really. If there was a competition for her parent’s affection and attention, she lost the moment her siblings were born. Out of the running, benched as she would watch her family grow from the sidelines. But ever since being accepted as a member of the Metkayina clan, she had been learning new things about herself that she was never able to explore before.
“You’re right. I did beat you. Again,” Ao’nung was practically beaming, his face smug from the prospect of beating one of the clan’s best racers.
“Ugh, just barley, if that girl hadn’t cut me off, I would have won,” [Name] stated as matter of fact, chin tilting up in defiance. No way was she going to let this go to Ao’nung’s head.
“And I have been the one winning the past few races, so I don’t know what you’re on about,” [Name] added.
“Sure, but I won the last race and I have won again,” Ao’nung smirked at her for what felt like the hundredth time.
[Name] punched Ao’nung’s arm half-heartedly as she rolled her eyes, “Yes, whatever. You have won this time, but know that I will win the next,” [Name] smirked, eyebrows furrowing into as serious look as she pointed at Ao’nung.
Ao’nung only put his arms in the air, a look of smug disbelief painted across his face, “You will try, but I think second place suits you just fine.”
The sun beating down on them was warm and the water, calm. The ripples that were previously cause by the people around, were calmer and there was less splashing. One quick look around told [Name] that most of the riders were retreating back to the village after a long day.
“I guess you will have The Spear of Yora’tu (winners) for the next week,” [Name] smirked, already knowing Ao’nung’s reaction as she has seen it before.
Ao’nung’s eyes light up, puffing out his chest slightly as he smiled at the reminder.
The Spear of Yora’tu (Spear of Winners) was something the racers came up with a few months into the races. Racing had never been an official thing and so there was no official prize. That was until Ao’nung fought off an Akula, a ferocious and sharp toothed predator that swan just outside of the reef, with the spear. Since then, many in the tribe, including [Name], were able to fight off a predator with it.
Spear was then named for it’s incredible luck and they deemed that the Spear could only be earned by winning an Ilu race. So, since then they have been competing for the spear, which in itself would be enough of a prize, even if it didn’t come with bragging rights.
Ao’nung was known for holding the Spear the longest, though [Name] was always giving him a run for his money. And once again Ao’nung had won it, meaning that he would not let her live it down for the next few days.
“Ah, yes. Proof that I am a winner and better than you,” Ao’nung teased.
[Name] couldn’t help but laugh at that. It hadn’t taken much to get [Name] to laugh at Ao’nung’s jokes lately, however stupid.
Warm wind blew softly by them, blowing their wet hair so gentle it seemed Eywa was caressing them herself. [Name] took a deep breath, eyes closing as she experienced the warm wind around her. Ao’nung was left to watch her, his smirk fading into a small smile as he watched the beautiful girl in front of him.
Ao’nung found it almost a shame that [Name] was never taught in the ways of the Tsahik. Even though she should have been taught simply because of her heritance, the way she experienced the world around her felt as if Eywa flowed right through her. As she breathed in the air, [Name] looked as if she was breathing in the life of the world and had never felt more at peace because of it.
The soft look on Ao’nung’s face was almost a perfect refection of his thoughts.
A thought crossed his mind and Ao’nung decided to voice it, “Do you wanna explore the reef some more tomorrow? Maybe end at the beach?”
[Name] looked at his soft expression with confusion, although she didn’t show it. It wasn’t often that Ao’nung showed his soft side, in fact, [Name] was quite sure she was one of few who had. Tsireya, his sister, had, having been comforted after she got her queue caught on some coral. It was a touching moment that [Name] felt she should not have seen but seeing Ao’nung wrapped his arms around his sister as tears fell from her face, made [Name] feel soft and warm inside. A feeling she could describe as comforting.
But besides his sister, [Name] had hardly seen that expression on Ao’nung, as usually choose to grin or glare. The first time she had ever seen that face was when she had won her first Ilu race. Ao’nung wouldn’t stop telling everyone about how the forest girl won against even the best, for weeks. She didn’t understand it, but she did welcome the feeling she got every time Ao’nung started boasting about her to the other members of the clan.
“That sounds fun! Who’s all coming?” [Name] smiled, ignoring the soft look on his face, or how he was staring in her eyes like she was the only one he has ever seen.
“Oh, it was just going to be us,” Ao’nung explained, his soft look dropped only to be replaced by another smirk.
After a moment of thought, [Name] smiled, “Well, I am in. How could I turn down quality time with you?” [Name] smirked, her teasing hanging in the air, waiting for someone to make a move.
“You just can’t get enough of me, who wouldn’t want to hang out with me?” Ao’nung laughed. [Name] rolled her eyes again, holding in her own laugh, as they made their way back to the village.
Only a few hours later, [Name] found herself in a circle with some of her friends, girls of the Metkayina clan. She carefully guided them through the process of weaving flower crowns, just like she taught Tuk all those years ago. The goal was for them to make them for their families as gifts, as many of the girls had fathers, brothers and mates who were out all day hunting and protecting the seawall and wished to convey their appreciation.
This wasn’t the first day [Name] had taught them, only a few weeks prior she had been trying to teach them when Ao’nung challenged a boy to a race again, and [Name] and many of the girls could not miss that.
Since that day though, the girls had been practicing their skills, impressing [Name], who was more than proud to hear of this. The girls in the circle now were refining their skills, using them to make personal crowns for the ones they loved. [Name] thought the way the personalized them were brilliant. She had never thought to weave shells and pretty beads into the crowns using beading techniques, and she was excited to experiment.
“All I am saying, is that if he really cared he would approach you about it,” One of the girls told the girl beside her as she added a blue flower to her crown.
Mumbles of agreement sounded from around the circle, all seemingly deciding that that was the end of that argument. It was silent for a moment, only the sounds being of hands hard at work weaving and waves crashing next to them.
Then one girl piped up, looking at [Name], “I think I know the answer, [Name], but has anything gotten better with your family?”
All of the girls seemed become somber at that thought. They had seen [Name] around and they knew that things had not gotten better, in fact, the might have become worse. The Sully family was leaving their marui less and less, and they knew that [Name] blamed herself, as much as she didn’t want to think about it.
“No, no it hasn’t,” [Name] sighed, she had thought about this a lot. Even after separating herself from them and creating a new life for herself that she loved, she still felt guilty and responsible for the family she grew up with.
The girls around her muttered words of comfort, and the girls beside her held her hands and shoulders.
“They don’t deserve you, you deserve better.”
“Yeah, you’re with us now.”
“And we love having you around!”
“Of course, look what you have taught us,” One girls said, holding up her crown. “We thought we were just going to teach you.”
The girls nodded eagerly at each of the statements as if they believed them whole heartedly. [Name] smiled, looking at all of the faces that loved her very much. After a moment of comforting from the girls, they began to weave their crowns again and one of the girls made a move to change the subject.
“How are you and Ao’nung?” She questioned, [Name] would have said innocently, but as the girl started to smirk, she thought otherwise.
“What about me and Ao’nung?” [Name] hesitantly, wondering if this was going the way she thought it was going.
“How has courting each other been?”
Giggles sounded around the circle, smirks finding their way on many of the girl’s faces.
“What do you mean? We are not courting each other,” [Name] questioned, her eyes wide in alarm, blood rushing to her cheeks, did they think that they were courting eachother?
Choruses of gasps of shock and mumbles of ‘what?’ erupted from around her. [Name] was met with the prospect that others thought there was something going on between her and Ao’nung. Why did others see this but not her? Honestly, [Name] though they were going to ask if [Name] had a crush on Ao’nung, and was surprised that it seemed they had skipped that step.
“You mean to tell us that all this dancing around you have done, is unintentional?” Another of the girls asked, visibly perplexed.
“I mean, I thought we were just good friends…” [Name] muttered to herself, but the girls heard.
The thought did cross [Name]’s mind, that maybe she didn’t really know the difference between friends and something more, Ao’nung being her first friend and all. What if the comfort [Name] found in Ao’nung was mutual?
“Why did you think we were courting each other?” [Name] just had to ask, had to be sure.
“Are you kidding? We see how you two act around each other, like you can’t get enough of each other,” A girl started.
“Like you two are the only ones in the ocean,” One of the girls finished.
“Really?” [Name] felt that familiar warm feeling in her stomach. “I would have thought there was a better, Metkayina girl for him.”
The girls erupted in a laugh again. A good feeling, hearty laugh from the stomach at the idea of Ao’nung having anyone else ‘better’ for him.
As one of the girls started to come down from her laughter, she put her hand on [Name]’s shoulder, “Look, I love all of the girls of the Metkayina clan, except for Tseiie, can’t stand her,” The other girls giggled at that, knowing of her discontent for that girl. “But everybody knows that there is nobody better for Ao’nung than you.”
Another wave of nodding occurred, as well as mumbles of agreement.
“I don’t know about everyone…" [Name] reasoned, not believing that the entirety of the clan believed that [Name] was best for the leader’s son.
“No, it is everyone. Every girl and their mother knows that you are the best for him.”
“We have seen you two, he is so much nicer to everyone when you’re around.”
“Not to mention how nice he is to you.”
“When you first became friends, he actually started to be nicer. Like, not bullying people!”
“Yeah, that was nice.”
“And to think that is all because of you.” One of the girls threw the back of her hand on her forehead and pretended to faint.
[Name] sat there looking at all the girls confirming the situation with Ao’nung as truth, her face hot and flushed. [Name] hardly knew what to think, everyone thought Ao’nung and [Name] should be together? Her best friend, the one who took her in when her family failed, the man who had unknowingly carried her heart so gently for months. They were best for each other? [Name] found herself smiling at the thought, after coming second in the race, who knew that this day could get better?
“Even the Tsahik, interrupter of Eywa, his mother, thinks that nobody is better for her son than you,” One of the girls whispered, making the whole circle smile like madmen.
“Their whole family thinks you are perfect for one another.”
[Name]’s flushed a deep red at that. It was one thing for the clan to think they should get together, but his parents? The Tsahik? The implications of that were on an whole other level. [Name] had begun to think about how maybe they could court each other. Being the son of the leaders, and [Name] being the daughter of outsiders, she didn’t think it could ever happen. Never allowed to be. But after hearing about the clan as well as the leaders hoping for them to be, [Name] couldn’t help but hope for mutual feelings from Ao’nung.
Ao’nung’s parents had been nothing but loving since the day her family cornered [Name]. After finally leaving her family, Ao’nung brought [Name] back to his family’s marui, where he explained to his parents what had happened. His parents were more than happy to let [Name] into their home. That night was spent sharing shed tears and comforting on another. From that day on, [Name] stayed with Ao’nung’s family and they loved her like one of their own.
Ronal’s love really solidified when [Name] offered to help her and Tsireya with their tasks and chores. At first, Ronal was unsure but as she watched [Name] help her daughter, staying kind and caring even when things got stressful, Ronal found herself wondering how anyone could forget about [Name].
[Name] smiled at the thought of finally having a family who loved her. After a moment of the circle of weaving flower crowns, [Name] decided to share her plans for the next day.
“Ao’nung asked me to explore the reef with him tomorrow,” [Name] smirked knowing the girls would eager to know more. “And he made sure I knew that we would be alone.”
“What? No way!”
“Oooooo, somebody has a date~” One girl sung.
“You have to tell us everything!” The girls giggled.
[Name] smirked to herself as the girls leaned in to hear her next words.
“He said we would end at the beach just before eclipse.” [Name] whispered, leaning in herself.
“Thats when the sky is the prettiest!”
“You are so lucky, you know? Ao’nung a year ago was the worst.” More giggling sounded from around the circle.
“That is so cute! Do you think he will ask to–”
“They can’t until she has competed Iknimaya.”
[Name] knew what they were talking about. Iknimaya was the rite-of-passages that lead to becoming an adult in the Metkayina clan. [Name] had completed many of them over the last few months with her soul sister, the Tulkun she bonded with, but she hadn’t complete the last one.
Taming a skimwing.
[Name] knew that Ao’nung had already completed this last rite-of-passage and had become an adult in the eyes of the clan. Ao’nung was already eligible for a mate, unfortunately [Name] would not be in the selection if she did not become an adult herself in the eyes of the clan.
“Oh, she will be able to complete it soon. Won’t you [Name]?”
[Name] smiled, focusing back on her flower crown. She planned to complete that very soon.
Kiri hesitantly enters the marui where her family resides. She can see so clearly on their faces the regret and broken hearts. Ever since the day that she, Lo’ak, and Neteyam sought out answers from [Name], they had been a broken family. Kiri wasn’t sure how they were able to miss so much of [Name]’s torment, or how they missed how they were the cause of it. Years of neglect had lead [Name] to find family in the Metkayina rather than her own. Kiri understood now just how much that neglect affected her oldest sister.
It was a shame, Kiri could hardly remember her youth with [Name], and she knew Lo’ak and Neteyam felt the same. Looking through their memories of [Name], one would think that [Name] wasn’t even related, at best a distant cousin. [Name] was a blur in their minds, and after a while of not seeing [Name] around, they began to forget what she looked like. Although one would think that someone could recognized their sibling in a crowd, the only tell that [Name] was their sibling was that she was the only formerly-Omatikaya body in a crowd of Metkayina.
Kiri’s heart hurt every time she watched the familiar blue body of her older sister leave the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik’s marui in the mornings. It wasn’t often that any of the Sully family saw [Name] anymore and because of that, Kiri woke up at the same time every morning to watch [Name] swim off with her friends.
Almost every time she saw [Name], she was reminded of the night [Name] finally severed herself from the family she grew up with. Walking back to their marui had proven difficult as the prospect of telling Tuk of what had happened was enough to break their hearts. Their oldest sister was everything to their youngest sister. It was hard to imagine why they were so close, being that Kiri and her brothers never actually saw Tuk and [Name] hangout, they just knew that they did.
The walk back was slow, their footsteps the whole way heavy, a thousand thoughts wrapping around their heads like a hurricane.
She’s gone. How is she gone? Where did we go wrong? What just happened? How could we forget about her.
Kiri will never forget the look on their parent’s faces when they heard about [Name]. Neytiri dropped to her knees, eyes blown is shock. Jake just stared, still in his place. The three had just walked into the marui, hearing Tuk, Jake, and Neytiri laughing. Laughing that stopped abruptly when they saw the looks on their sibling’s and children’s faces. Expressions that could rival losing a loved one, which, one might suppose they did.
After the initial shock, they all watched as Neytiri brought Tuk close as tears started to stream from her eyes. Between Tuk and Neytiri, there was enough tears to be labeled as a waterfall. Jake didn’t move, stuck in his mind, only coming back to when his two sons came to his side, hugging him tight.
It was difficult to describe the pain that went to their hearts that day. Both from losing [Name], but also from their own personal inadequacies. How in the entirety of Pandora could they forget their oldest daughter. Their daughter who they know was always there for them, even if they didn’t let her. She was always by their side, helping them with whatever they needed. There was a point where [Name] was left to take care of her siblings every time her parents went on dates. [Name] had always had their backs and they stabbed [Name] in hers.
[Name] was the reason Jake and Neytiri wanted more kids. Even from the beginning, [Name] never made a fuss. She was the sweetest child they could hope for, always giggling and smiling at them. As Neytiri was pregnant, they would tell [Name] of how she was to become a sister, and even as a baby, [Name] seemed overjoyed to be an older sibling. Then Neteyam was born and it was like a switch flipped and [Name] no longer was the centre of attention. Sure, she still had some attention, being a baby in all. But as she was nearly a year older than Neteyam, when Neteyam and Kiri turned one, [Name] became an afterthought. Only really being cared for after Neteyam and Kiri.
Jake and Neytiri never meant to overlook their oldest child, but as the years flew by and they gave attentive care to [Name]’s siblings, it became unforgivable. There is a certain point where the neglect becomes intentional. A point when one is no longer able to ignore the fact that it would have been difficult to actively ignore someone you see every day for the first half of their life. If this was accidental, it happened out of a lack of care.
Lo’ak was gutted, not only because of [Name]’s separation from the family, but also because Tsireya stopped talking to him. [Name] had always been there for him, this much he knew. But over the years her face started to fade in his memories, only seeming to have actually hung out with her while they were young. Lo’ak knew that [Name] cared for him, but he couldn’t remember why he knew that. What actions in their past made him believe this about her.
He tried to look back, remember what his older sister was like when they were young. He was born not long after Kiri, and he remembered [Name] being around a lot, taking care of him and giving him her care and attention. [Name] was young as well at the time, but that never stopped her from offering a small hand to Lo’ak when he fell. As the years flew by, Lo’ak remembered less and less of his oldest sister, being as he started to push her away. A truth Lo’ak was finding hard to accept as of late.
Neteyam remembered more than most of his siblings, having been there with [Name] the longest. He remembers learning to hunt and shoot with her, running off in the forest away from Jake who was pretending to be a monster with her. He remembers [Name] fixing his small cuts from falling and placing leaves on his blisters caused by their bows. But much like Lo’ak, his memories of his sister faded as she became a background character in their important lives. Yes, [Name] was always still there, but she felt like a ghost. Only reminder that she was there was her soft movements that would usually head in the direction of the forest.
The two boys were not only upset at her leaving, but at their parents neglect to their oldest sister. They were upset at Ao’nung for taking [Name] from them. And they were upset at themselves for letting their sister become distant and separated from their lives practically their entire lives.
Although everyone took this news to heart, the one that took it the hardest was Tuk. Tuk had always loved [Name], and from the moment she was born [Name] had loved Tuk. Tuk was the first to have experienced [Name]’s matured and more motherly love. Even though [Name] was still young, she was in no way considered a baby, and thus was more than capable to take care of Tuk.
And take care of Tuk she did. Tuk was by far the most loved child, not only because she was the youngest, but because she had [Name]. [Name] was always there to care for her, being pretty much the only other one to hold Tuk when she was young, other than their parents. While Tuk was a baby, [Name] could often be found trying to make her baby sister laugh, entertaining her for hours.
As they grew, the two only grew closer. [Name] taught Tuk everything she knew, and although she knew Tuk was to get a lot more attention than she did, she made sure that Tuk knew she was enough just on her own. Tuk learned about beading, flower crown weaving and the basics of healing from [Name], all things she couldn’t quite do with her tiny hands but enjoyed learning none the less.
Tuk began to hang out with her other siblings more as she grew older, but still always found time to enjoy [Name]’s company. [Name] couldn’t blame her youngest sister for wanting to hang out with her other siblings more, for she wanted that just as much. But [Name] knew that she had tried and there was no reason to continue to bug her siblings further. So she let Tuk run off with Kiri and Spider, and get into trouble with Lo’ak. Lo’ak always the one getting in trouble, even if it was Tuk’s doing.
Tuk remembers the most of her siblings, even more than Neteyam, so when she heard of [Name] not going to be in their lives anymore, Tuk felt as if her heart was pulled out. Tuk, being as young as she was, couldn’t even find a way to communicate her sadness over the loss of her sister. Tears seemed to only stop flowing from her eyes when there were no more tears left to cry. The Sully’s had to make sure she was drinking lots of water being as she almost never stopped crying. They were worried for their youngest, who didn’t stop crying even in her sleep. Tuk’s experience with [Name] was so positive that if Tuk didn’t already have a mother who loved her immensely, she would ask for [Name]’s love as a replacement.
Tuk never wanted to leave the marui, only really doing so to see Ilus. Her family’s attempt at making her feel better, and while it did a little, it only really confirmed just how much damage their neglect had on [Name].
Tuk only really stopped crying when one day Tsireya came by and offered to take Tuk out for the day. Kiri remembers how grateful her family was that Tsireya was giving Tuk an opportunity to get some fresh air and enjoy life again. What Kiri didn’t know, was that Tsireya planned to meet up with [Name].
When Tuk caught sight of [Name], she ran to her with no hesitation. Tuk spent the rest of the day held in [Name]’s arms. The walked on the beach, explored more of the reef and played on Ilus, all while Tuk was firmly wrapped in [Name]’s warm embrace. She didn’t leave her arms for hours, only letting go once it was past eclipse and Tuk knew she should be getting home if she didn’t want to get into trouble.
When Tuk got home, the entire family notice just how much happier Tuk was. The girl finally wasn’t crying every moment.
From then on, it became a regular thing for Tuk hang out with [Name] and her friends for the day, and everyday Tuk would come back home with a smile. Even if someone would ask what has gotten her smiling, she would smile and shrug, not giving any more information.
One day, Tuk came home with a pretty flower crown on her head and her parents along with her siblings were in awe. Kiri remembers one of them asking if Tuk had made the pretty crown that sat comfortably on her head. Tuk only shook her head, stating simply that it was [Name]’s handy work and skipped over to where dinner had been prepared.
Their stomachs dropped, Tuk had been hanging out with [Name]? [Name] let her do that? And when did [Name] become so good at weaving flower crowns? The wondered if Tuk taught her, knowing that Tuk had made them all flower crowns when they were young. Desperate to have their questions answers, they asked Tuk.
“Who taught [Name] to weave? Did you, Tuk?” Neytiri asked, watching her youngest closely as to not miss a sliver of information about their oldest.
“What? No silly. She taught me. [Name] has always been the best weaver in the clan, this clan and the last.” Tuk stated simply, smiling to herself as she thought about all of the beautiful projects [Name] was able to make.
“She taught you? When did she teach you? And when was she taught?” Jake asked, the last part more to himself but everyone else in the marui caught it.
“Of course she taught me! Who else? She taught me a long time ago, remember when we gave you those flowers crowns a while ago? Yeah those were hand made by [Name], I was only able to make two of them. It’s hard with my tiny hands.” Tuk finished, taking a bite of her dinner.
“She made those? We thought you did…” Kiri muttered.
“You think I did? I was like 5.”
“Who taught [Name] then?” Lo’ak asked, eyes furrowed in confusion.
“I don’t think anyone did. I think she has learned a lot of things from watching people. You know, because nobody will teach her,” Tuk explained, taking another big bite of her dinner, of which she seemed to enjoy.
They weren’t sure if Tuk realized it or not, but her statement was a silent dig at their parenting. Parenting that for [Name], didn’t include much teachings. Besides being taught to hunt and use a bow, [Name] was not taught about much else, leaving her to figure it out on her own. If watching people was how she learned, then that really reflected how poorly Jake and Neytiri had been at teaching her.
That night ended cold and sad for the Sully family. The thought of not realizing yet another part of [Name]’s brilliance weighed on them.
It was a bright day in the reefs, the water was warm and the breeze gentle as [Name] and Ao’nung explored the colourful corals and wildlife that the Metkayina clan had to offer. Rounding the corner of a particularly colourful piece of coral, [Name] found herself face to face with a grinning Ao’nung looking at her.
“What?” [Name] signed, slightly worried at his all too happy expression.
“What? I can’t smile?" Ao’nung teased, signing back.
“Not when your smiling like you have something planned,” [Name] signed.
“Why is it that you always think I am up to something?” Ao’nung signed, lifting his brow playfully.
“If you saw your expression right now, you would understand why,” [Name] giggled, watching Ao’nung rolled his eyes playfully.
Only a few hours later, [Name] and Ao’nung found themselves walking on the beach side-by-side. The sun was low, teetering on eclipse, making the bioluminescence of the water and the wildlife glow a marvellous, ethereal light that [Name] was never able to get enough of. Their walk was slow and silent, but brought great comfort to both of them.
Their hands hung by their sides, brushing one another from time to time but neither had the heart to move away or take the chance and grab the other’s hand. [Name] sighed, her mind on the day she left the Sully family.
“I just want to thank you for helping me that day, you know, bringing me into your friend group and all. I have never forgotten that day, and not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate what you have done for me,” [Name] confessed, slowing down to as stop in order to get her message across.
“It’s alright [Name],” Ao’nung begun, stopping next to [Name] before turning to face her.
[Name] cut Ao’nung off before he could continue, “Really. I have no idea where I would be if you and your friends didn’t come to make fun of me that day.”
Ao’nung grimaced at that. Making fun of the girl before him was not something he like to remember.
“It’s really okay, I am glad we are friends.” Ao’nung said in attempts to comfort the girl in front of him. He grabbed her hand gently and guided her to sit next to him on the beach as she continued.
“And everything you have done for me since! You really are the best, thank you so much for all you have done for me,” [Name] spoke earnestly, looking directly in Ao’nung’s eyes, something that caught Ao’nung off guard.
“[Name], I would do it all again a million times if it meant becoming friends with you,” Ao’nung spoke truthfully, that familiar tease in his voice none existent as he gazed into [Name]’s eyes. “I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”
[Name] smiled at his words, watching Ao’nung’s face once again. There was that look again. That look of softness that was oh so rare, sitting perfectly on Ao’nung’s smooth face. A moment went by, the two of them just looking in each other’s eyes. But then [Name]’s mind went back to what she was thankful for, Ao’nung could practically see the shift on her face.
“Thank you so much for all that your family has done as well. Letting me into your home must not have been easy but I am so grateful for all that you and your family have done to make me feel at home.” [Name] began again, she spoke as if this had been weighing on her for a while, and it probably had.
Ao’nung let out an amused huff, shaking his head affectionately, “[Name], please don’t worry about it. We love having you around. Honestly, I think my mother likes you more than me at this point.”
“She does not,” [Name] smiled, shaking her head.
“I’m not even kidding, she will push me aside when you walk in,” Ao’nung joked, but somewhere in [Name]’s gut knew that it was not as much of a joke as Ao’nung was letting on.
“Thank you,” Ao’nung started, catching [Name] completely off guard. “Thank you for coming into our lives and making them better.”
Ao’nung paused for a moment, hesitating on whether or not to continue.
“Thank you for making my life better,” Ao’nung smiled softly, holding both of [Name]’s hands.
[Name] smiled as if she had never been told such beautiful words, and rested her forehead against Ao’nung’s. The sun set behind them, the beauty of pandora finally glowing once again, but [Name] and Ao’nung could only find bliss in each other in this moment.
Less than a week later, [Name] and Ao’nung along with some of their friends, were hanging out in the shallow waters next to a more secluded beach not far from the village. It wasn’t at all private, in fact many of the Metkayina kids favoured hanging out here in their free time. The beach was beautiful, long billowing overhanging trees acting as a sort of cover from the sun and the rare rain, and beautiful naturally growing flowers surrounded the beach.
It had been a long day mostly consisting of chores and teaching [Name] to successfully tame a skimwing. They were readying up for the day she would complete her last iknimaya, which would take place in just over a week. [Name] was excited to become an adult in the eyes of the clan and Eywa but at the same time she was beyond nervous about the whole ordeal. [Name] would manage though, after all she had all of her friends who were more than eager to help her in anyway. Ao’nung even offered to give her a ride on the skimwing he tamed, but [Name] declined as she didn’t want her experience to be different than any other kid in the Metkayina clan.
Regardless, they were taking the night to relax. [Name], Ao’nung and their friends were laughing and joking around all evening, finding humour in even the smallest of things. Even their own laughter was enough to keep them laughing. Some of their friends facing the beach’s laughter died down all of a sudden. Following in suit, [Name] and the others facing their backs to the beach, turned in order to see what was the cause of this sudden seriousness.
But when they turned around they found Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Tuk walking past. There was a moment of silence and that was when the three Sullys noticed the group watching them. The group grabbed [Name]’s shoulders, pulling her close and most importantly, away from her brothers, and sent nasty glares in their direction. Neteyam and Lo’ak’s heads lowered in shame when the noticed the darker blue body among the group. As they walked past, [Name] noticed Tuk looking at her, a familiar longing on Tuk’s face. So as they walked by, almost out of view, [Name] nodded at Tuk for her to join them.
Tuk’s light up, her smile as bright as the sun. She gave Neteyam a small tap that alerted him of her departure and run off to join [Name] and her friends. Tuk ran into the water and splash over until she crashed into [Name], who was more than happy to reciprocate Tuk’s affection. The day ended in smiles and contagious laughter, another good day in the Metkayina clan.
[Name] felt as if she was born ready. Born ready to finally tame a skimwing and become an adult. She had been waiting for this day ever since she started learning the ways of the Metkayina people. Her commitment, dedication, and passion kept her learning, growing, and building her skills. And it had all lead up to this day.
The task was rather simple, get on the skimwing, bond with it, and stay on the skimwing. And that was all she thought about as she moved to tackle the skimwing before her.
As she grabbed on, the skimwing darted forward and [Name] was reminded of Ilu racing. This couldn’t be much different, could it? Her question was quickly answered when she was promptly thrown to the side, [Name] swallowing a gulp of water as she hits the surface. [Name] had no other choice but get back up and try again. A lot was riding on this. If she completed this, if she managed to tame the skimwing, she would be an adult and they would hold a ceremony for her. They had already begun preparing it, already so sure of her awaited success.
[Name] made another quick movement, jumping back on the skimwing. This time she locked her legs around the slippery animal and grabbed both the queues, connecting them. All of a sudden everything became clear. The skimwing settled down, his heartbeat matching with [Name]’s as she felt everything in her body as well as his. With a firm hand on the handle, [Name] commanded the skimwing to move.
She was instantly jutted forward as the skimwing dove into the water. [Name] didn’t think she would be able to hold on, it quickly becoming a struggle. But after a few seconds, she started getting used to the feeling of water rushing at her. Readjusting her grip, [Name] told the skimwing to jump out of the water into the air, and the skimwing did.
Jumping out of the water, [Name] was left to see the whole clan watching her success and cheering her on. Bright smiles and enthusiastic clapping was heard from all around the village as [Name] and her skimwing made their rounds.
When the ceremony finally came, [Name] was practically bouncing in her seat. Her excitement could hardly be contained as she watched Ronal and Tonowari approach her with proud smiles, beads and necklace in hand.
“[Name], you have done much in the last year. Learning faster than most of our ways and you are more than eligible to become an adult in the eyes of Eywa,” Tonowari started, Ronal nodding proudly from beside him.
“These beads are to add to your songcord, as a way to commemorate your progression into adulthood,” Tonowari handed [Name] three small beads, one made of a small shell, one a pretty green bead and the last a small chunk from a tooth of a skimwing.
“And this,” Ronal began, laying the beautiful pearl and beaded necklace around [Name]’s neck. “Is a necklace that my daughter, Tsireya beaded for you for this special day.”
[Name] smiled at them, looking up at the leaders as if they were her parents, real parents that loved her. She smiled at Tsireya as well, who was standing just behind her parents.
“Now that you are an adult, you may get your first tattoo. The tattoo of your soul sister.” Tonowari smiled. “But all in due time, for now, we feast!”
The clan erupted in applause and cheers, another child growing into an adult of the Metkayina clan. A time to celebrate and enjoy.
Ao’nung took no time in approaching [Name] after she thanked Tsireya dearly for the wonderful necklace. [Name] was still fiddling with the necklace with a smile when Ao’nung appeared in front of her.
“You know, I helped her make that.” Ao’nung smirked, watching the disbelieving look creep onto [Name]’s face.
“Really?” [Name] deadpanned.
“Really," Ao’nung stayed smirking but there was no hint of deception on his face nor in his voice. “I mean, it was just a few beads and I told her your real size when she got it wrong, but I still helped.”
[Name] smiled, touched by the fact Ao’nung help make something so beautiful just for her.
“Thank you, Ao’nung,” [Name] smiled, moving to lay a quick peck on Ao’nung’s cheek. “I really appreciate it.”
Only two days later, [Name] and Ao’nung found theirselves walking down a beach again. The walk was silent but comfortable. The two were more than happy to enjoy the beauty of the world around them in silence as they walked hand in hand. They had just gotten back from a meal spent with Ao’nung’s family, as usual, when Ao’nung asked for [Name] to walk with him. When [Name] agreed, Ao’nung grasped her hand and tugged her in the direction of the shore.
The plant life was glowing around them once again, the darkness of the night only accentuating the already apparent beauty of pandora. Ao’nung noticed how beautiful the glowing speckles on [Name]’s face were as he snuck glances at her from the corner of his eye.
Ao’nung slows to a stop, his and [Name]’s attached hands brings her to a stop as well. Ao’nung turns to face [Name], and it met with her soft gaze. Ao’nung has always found [Name] beautiful, but in this moment, with the light from the flowers around her reflecting off the water and on to her soft face, Ao’nung thought she was the most beautiful entity in all of pandora. Maybe even the universe.
“[Name], I am so glad to have met you. You are every star in the sky, every thought I think, ever breath I take,” Ao’nung stares in [Name]’s eyes as if they were the gateway to her soul, a soul he has fallen in love with. He watches as [Name]’s smile starts to widen, her eyes starting to water.
“I wish to never leave your side, to be there for you forever,” Ao’nung’s smile begin to widen as [Name]’s hand cupped his face.
“I want to be with you forever, [Name],” His smile was soft, a reflection of [Name]’s soft smile as she put her other hand on Ao’nung’s cheek.
[Name] had been dreaming of this moment, and by the look on Ao’nung’s face, it was evident he had too.
“I see you, Ao’nung,” [Name] whispered so softly it was as if she thought she might scare Ao’nung away.
“I see you, [Name]," Ao’nung beamed, holding her neck and jaw in his evidently much bigger hands.
A small, happy tear fell from [Name]’s face. She wasn’t sure if it was Ao’nung’s attentiveness or the thought of finally finding someone who wanted to spend the rest of their life with her. Either way, [Name] was happy.
Ao’nung pulled her into an intimate kiss, their bodies stayed close as they moved in unison. The kiss was like a promise, filled with untold secrets and unspoken words. The kiss was first of many that night, and many for the rest of their lives, as they mated under Eywa. The two becoming one in a single, long awaited day.
The very next day, they told Ronal and Tonowari. At first they were worried that Ao’nung’s parents would be mad, but as the news came out, the two leaders were instantly beaming. Ronal brought [Name] into a tight hug, whispering in her ear at just how happy she was that [Name] was now her daughter under Eywa. Tonowari clapped his son’s back, telling him just how amazing a mate was going to be and how proud of him he was for choosing [Name].
Tsireya was just as happy, jumping around in circles with [Name]’s hands in hers when she heard the news. She told [Name] that she was happy to have a sister and about how much fun they were going to have.
In the next few days, [Name] got her tattoo, and started to learn the ways of the Tsahik. Ronal insisted [Name] learn the ways of the Tsahik if she was going to be the future leader of the clan. Tsireya, although she believed what her mother said, she also thought that it was just another excuse for her to hang out with [Name].
[Name] was beaming when she learned she would be taught the ways of the Tsahik, as she was not previously allowed to by her birth parents. [Name] although in line for the Tsahik, was never in the running, so as she was being taught, [Name] couldn’t help but be excited about every new thing she learned.
It had only been a few weeks since she mated with Ao’nung, when the Sully family came knocking at their marui. It was a surprise to all to see them, the Sullys were known to stick to themselves, never seen talking to anyone other than each other. [Name] was enjoying her dinner with her family when she saw them in the opening of the leader’s marui. Ronal and Tonowari stood up immediately, looking at the Sully parents with clear discontent.
“What are you doing here?” Tonowari asked, his voice commanding but restrained as he tried to remain civil.
“You have no place standing there, what is it you want?” Ronal demanded, not as patient as her mate.
Jake and Neytiri put their hands up as if to show they mean no harm. Still the two leaders of the clan stepped forward as to block [Name] from view, shielding her from whats to come.
“We just came to talk to [Name], if we could have a moment,” Jake asked calmly.
“No. Whatever you can say to [Name], you can say to us,” Ronal stated clearly.
“Okay…” Jake started hesitantly, seeing the hostile looks on each of the faces in the room. Particularly Ao’nung.
“We just wanted to say,” Jake looked around at his family for conformation, and when he got it, he continued. “That we are so sorry for what we did. And what we continued to do your whole life. I am sorry we neglected you and weren’t really there. We promise we care and love you.”
“We are hoping you will come back?” Neytiri tried, the her children nodding from behind her.
“Come back? After what you did to her, or really, all that you didn’t do for her?” Ronal roared.
Ronal was beyond pissed at this point, fed up with all of the neglect [Name] faced at the hands of her so called parents. It baffled her how they could treat such a sweet and amazing child like [Name], so horribly.
“You are out of your minds if you think that she would come back to you after all you have done.” Tonowari’s jaw was clenched and his fists tight, an almost identical expression on Ao’nung. “What do you even know about [Name]?”
Jake and Neytiri were frozen and at a loss for words. What did they know about [Name]?
“She makes flower crowns?” Neytiri offered, an already troubled by the lack of information she had about her oldest.
“Do you know her favourite thing to do is?” Ronal asked, immensely curious as to if she was going to get an answer.
Ronal’s question was met with silence and awkward shuffling from the Sully family.
“Did you know that [Name] has become the top Ilu racer?” Tsireya asked, peaking from behind her father.
Silence.
“Did you know that she had complete that last rite-of-passage and is now an adult of the Metkayina clan?” Tonowari asked.
More Silence.
“Did you know that she is mated to Ao’nung?” Ronal questioned, getting more upset by the second at the Sully’s silence.
More Silence.
“Did you know she is training to be the next Tsahik?” Ao’nung asked, becoming incredibly frustrated at his mate’s former family.
Once again, they were met with silence.
“Do you even know when is [Name]’s birthday?” Tsireya asked, mortified by the silence, tears already swelling in her eyes.
When the Sullys made no move to say anything, that’s when [Name] finally broke.
“It’s today. My birthday is today. You didn’t know that?” [Name] asked softly, her voice coming out as a broken whisper.
Tears were now streaming freely down [Name]’s face, right in view of the Sullys as Ronal and Tonowari stepped to the side.
It was then that Jake, Neytiri, Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Kiri all realized just how little they knew about their sister and daughter. [Name] had never really left, she was always within distance. At any point they could have ask someone, or [Name] herself, how she was doing. But they didn’t, instead they moped and let themselves feel bad for themselves as if [Name] had done something to them.
“Even Tuk knew, and she wished [Name] a happy birthday.” Tsireya added.
“Why didn’t you tell us Tuk?” Neytiri asked, turning to her youngest.
“It’s not my fault you didn’t know your first born’s birthday, can’t do your parenting for you.” Tuk stated simply before running up to [Name] and embracing her in a warm hug.
“You are terrible parents. Even after learning of your own inadequacies, for months you refused to learn and grow. You don’t deserve [Name], she deserves better.” Ronal informs them firmly, not shying away from the rudeness in her tone.
[Name] shook her head as she looked at her old family, “I can’t believe even after all of these years, you still have no idea what you have done to me. What I have lost because of you! I never knew what true happiness was like until we came here and I met some of my favourite people,” [Name] spoke, looking around at her real family with a small smile. “I am Metkayina now, I have found a family who loves me and actually shows they care for me!”
Ao’nung wraps his arm around [Name]’s shoulder and Ronal and Tonowari rest their hands on [Name]’s back, Tuk’s arms still firmly wrapped around [Name]’s. Her new family smiles at her, showing her the love and attention she has always wanted.
“I am daughter of Ronal and Tonowari now. Sister of Tsireya and mate of Ao’nung. This is my life and I love it more than anything. So please stop taking good things away from me!” [Name] finished, glaring at her former family.
The Sullys had tears in their eyes, Neytiri’s were streaming down her face, but they remained silent.
“You heard my daughter, we are her family now. Now leave, before I change my mind about let your family stay in our clan," Ronal’s threat hung in the air as the Sullys rushed to leave.
Each Sully left that marui more broken than before, knives plunged deeply into their chests. They knew they had been terrible to [Name], but as they just witnessed, it was clearly only a fraction of the damage they had done. Each of their hearts were heavy with the fact they had no idea anything about [Name]. How had they missed her rite-of-passage? Or her being mated under Eywa with the son of the leaders?
How had they not know that it was [Name]’s birthday?
The words said would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Lo’ak couldn’t believe he’d missed [Name] becoming an adult, when had that happened? Neteyam was shocked to learn that [Name] had a mate. Kiri was conflicted when she heard [Name] was learning the ways of the Tsahik, shouldn’t [Name] have been the one getting taught the ways of the Tsahik with Kiri, all those years ago?
Jake and Neytiri were beside themselves, their minds messes. They truly were terrible parents, weren’t they?
Tonowari and Ronal were left to comfort their oldest daughter when the Sullys finally left. [Name] was crying, Tuk still in her arms, as Tsireya and Ao’nung already begun comforting the girl.
“[Name], you know you will always have us,” Tonowari spoke, his voice soft, a stark contrast to how he spoke to the Sully family.
“Yes and you are loved and cared for here,” Ronal added, smiling down at the teary eyed girl before her.
[Name] couldn’t help but smile. Because after all, she knew that this family would never betray her.
A/n: Thank you so much for reading! And thank you to everyone who gave me all that support on the first part! I love you guys so much! This is what I did with the soul I found! I sold it to the devil again! I hoped you enjoyed and let me know what you thought! <33333
An angst request coming up. Reader is Jake and Neytiri's oldest daughter but is barley acknowledged. Jake is to busy teaching Neteyam and Lo'ak and Neytiri is to busy with Kiri and Tuk. They treat her more as a distant relative than anything, but she does everything they tell her to do because she believes that will make them see her. When they come to the Metkayina clan she becomes more of an outcast and keep to herself. She gets teased and harassed by Ao'nung and his gang, the same way they did to Kiri, but no one comes to her rescue. They notice that her family doesn't help her and starts to be nice and inviting her with them. The this whole scene where her siblings finds out and feels betrayed by her.
Betrayal Is The Only Truth That Sticks
Pairing: Sully Family x fem!reader
Summary: Sully family ignores reader for most her life, until her life starts to get better in the Metkayina clan as they take her under their wing
Word Count: 4.3k
Warnings: Cussing, angst, name calling, they are mean to reader?
A/n: Y’all this is a long one, took a lot of time so let me know what you think! Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy! <33333
Part 2: Betrayal Is An Inherent Part Of Love
Masterlist
[Name] took a deep breath, she was leaving her home. Her home, the forest, all she had ever known retreating behind her as she joined her family in the sky. She knew why they were leaving, she did, but that did not stop the stinging in her chest at the thought of leaving. Now that they were in the sky, it all became so real. The crisp air was a sharp reminder of the life she was leaving behind.
Blinking back tears, she was brought back to the time she spent in the forest as a kid. Her younger brother–Neteyam, only younger by a year–chasing her and Kiri as they struggled to run away. She almost smiled to herself, things were easier back then. There were few memories she had as a kid that lacked the heart wrenching feeling she had become accustomed to.
She hardly remembers it but she knew when Kiri and Neteyam were born, her parents were elated. Another child to share their love with, how exciting. Thats what [Name] thought as well, until they started to take up all of their time. That makes sense though, they were babies after all. But none of that seemed to change as time went on. Even as Neteyam and [Name] were being taught to hunt, Neteyam seemed to be favoured. Long hunts where [Name] would catch three fish and Neteyam one, were often ‘teaching moments’ for Jake and Neytiri.
They knew that Neteyam had do be hunter if he was to be the future Olo'eyktan, so they took special care in teaching him. Kiri, almost from the moment she opened her eyes, had an connection with Eywa. The girl was already a miracle, coming out of the body of Dr. Grace Augustine. But when all of the Ikrans around them started to protect her tiny baby body out of the blue one day when she was crying, they knew that she must be trained to be the next Tsahik.
All of this [Name] could forgive and forget, and she almost did, until Lo’ak was born. [Name] had an understanding that Kiri and Neteyam would always have most of their parents attention, so when Lo’ak was born, she was more than ready to give him the attention she didn’t get. But Lo’ak almost seemed to get more attention than the other three, even when he was no longer a baby. Lo’ak was always trying to “live up to his brother”, although his brother never kept him from the attention from his loved ones. When [Name] finally realized that Lo’ak was getting more attention despite ‘being the outcast’, that’s when that all too familiar feeling set in, she was never going to be the centre of attention.
[Name] was in no way bad at anything, not in the slightest. She had no problems picking up all of the things she was taught as a hunter. No, the problem came when she wasn’t the best at anything she did. Despite being taught the same things as Neteyam and Lo’ak, she never seemed to be anything other than average. She made most of her targets with almost exact accuracy, but, unlike her brothers, she wasn’t as fast or as precise. Her lack of struggle or brilliance with any of the skills she had meant a lack of praise or extra practice time with her parents, and thus less attention.
One might think that [Name] had jealousy for her sibling success, Kiri training to be the next Tsahik, despite that being [Name]’s natural role as the oldest daughter or even Neteyam’s future mate’s; and Lo’ak and Neteyam becoming better and better warriors with the help of their parents. But [Name] never was jealous, she could only find pride in herself when she watched her siblings succeed. She only wished to have a sliver of the attention.
So, [Name] became silent, never making a fuss as she was left to fade into the background of her family’s lives. While her sibling were off training with their parents, [Name] was left to practice her skills on her own. [Name] remembers getting better at making flower crowns, beading, using a bow and increasing her strength. But none of that ever mattered. Even when [Name] decided to make her family flower crowns, she couldn’t have been older than eight, they hardly bothered to thank her. Instead favouring the hammock, where they all snuggled close. [Name] tried every time to be in the middle, but no matter how hard she tried, she was always at the edge.
Things only seemed to look up when Tuk was born. Everyone was overjoyed when it was announced that Neytiri had given birth to another health baby girl. Tuk was unbelievably loving from the start, loving all of her siblings equally. [Name] was just happy that she could share her love with her bright-eyed sister. When Tuk was young, [Name] would often take Tuk into the forest to teach her how to make flower crowns. One day, they had come back with enough for the whole family. Everyone was delighted, praising Tuk for her work, even after Tuk told everyone that [Name] had taught her. Although it stung a little, she was happy for Tuk and was proud at her skills in flower weaving.
But as all good thing do, the time of Tuk and [Name]’s hanging out had seemed to come to an end. Kiri and Lo’ak were spending more and more time out in the forest with Spider and Tuk had decided that she didn’t want to miss it. [Name] couldn’t blame her, she never wanted to miss spending time with her family either. Once again, [Name] was left to train and explore on her own.
[Name] let out a sigh, it had only been a hour and she was already tired of flying. The air only grew cooler as they began flying above the great expanse of water that was the ocean of Pandora. Taking in a deep breath, [Name] tried to shake the thoughts of her childhood out of her head as they only exhausted her. As [Name] exhaled, her Ikran exhaled as well and she was reminded of the time [Name] and her brothers attacked the sky people’s train.
It had been a few weeks of coordinated attacks on the sky people’s supply shipments and Jake had allowed [Name], Lo’ak, and Neteyam to scout for them again. Jake was always worried about his children in an active war zone, but Jake knew that the only way to improve was experience. So scout they did. They were doing well, informing everyone of approaching ships and making sure everyone was safe, until Lo’ak decided he wanted more action.
Neteyam went after him, [Name] following close behind, both hoping to ensure their younger brother’s safety. Once they had landed, [Name] had found Lo’ak with a gun and Neteyam reminding him that their dad was going to kill them. [Name] tried to warn them of the incoming ship, grabbing Neteyam’s arm, pulling him just barely out of the way when a ship crashed. That didn’t shield them from the knock back though, the crash sending them sprawled on the ground. [Name] had guess her dad had seen them when he came running in to save them.
[Name] had watched as he checked Lo’ak’s body for injuries before yelling Neteyam’s name and searching for them. Once he had found him, throwing him on his back, Jake Sully made his way to his Ikran. She could hear Lo’ak’s voice alerting his dad that [Name] was by the crash as well, but it all became blurry as her ears began to ring and tears started to swell in her eyes. [Name] was already stumbling back to her Ikran when her father finally caught sight of her.
Apparently, Jake hadn’t seen her and thought she was still in the air, as she learned once they had gotten back, but that did nothing to undo the hurt that struck into [Name]’s heart.
Only a few days later did Spider, Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk go off into the forest again, this time with [Name]. Tuk had successfully convinced [Name] to come along although [Name] was wary. As they had jumped from branch to branch, wandering deeper into the beautiful rainforest, [Name] finally gave herself a moment to breathe. Tuk often got distracted by the wildlife, and [Name] couldn’t blame her, so she stuck by her when she got side tracked, following after her when Lo’ak would yell for them to catch up. It was times like these, when she would hang out with her family that she felt like an outsider. Sure, she knew and loved her family like no other, but she never really felt a part of the family, always left out of the conversation.
Looking back at it, [Name] could hardly remember the events that led up to her siblings, Spider, and her being held by their queues by dream walkers. It all seemed to go by so fast, similar to the pace of her heart. Then all of a sudden, she heard her mother’s calls and looking around she could tell that the others had heard them as well. It rest was a blur, a flurry of flashing lights from the guns, and bodies moving quickly. [Name] was held still, her attempts at biting the avatar holding her, futile. Only when Neteyam run out from behind a tree and shot the avatar behind her, was she free. She had ran to push Neteyam out of the way of gun shots when she was met with her father. They eventually made it out, but not without losing Spider.
[Name] understood Spider, and even as she sat atop her Ikran on their way to a new life, she had understood how he had felt as an outsider in the family. Spider may not have been a Sully, but he sure did get a lot more attention from them than [Name] did. The poor kid was now stuck with the sky people, who were doing Eywa knows what to him. [Name] could remember Kiri’s face when she found that Spider was taken. It hurt [Name] to see her sister so broken.
The entire ride had been silent, nobody spoke while they flew, a side from a few questions of how much longer from Tuk. [Name] had been so stuck in her thoughts that she hardly realized when the waters below them started to lighten. The waters of the ocean clans were beautiful, so full and bright. As they approached, Na’vi people of the ocean could be seen swimming in the reef, and tending to animals. [Name] took another deep breath, this time she was pleasantly surprised to find the air much warmer and less sharp. For the first time since learning they were leaving the forest, [Name] started to feel hopeful of their new life. Maybe here she could be happy.
The Ikrans started to slow as they descended, leaving [Name] to mentally prepare herself. When they landed, it became quickly apparent to the Sully family just how many people were surrounding them. [Name] tried to follow in her father’s footsteps, holding up her hands as if to show she was no harm. It was only after a tense conversation, that the Metkayina people decide that the leaders two children would teach the Sully kids.
It seemed from there that things started to look up for [Name]. It was scary at first, but after her and her siblings jumped in the water for the first time, it all seemed to come into focus for [Name]. The water was glowing and quiet, providing [Name] solace while she thought, something she thought she would never get. Under the water was calm and safe, somewhere that [Name] felt instantly at home in. Home had seemed to be a foreign concept to [Name] in the recent years, so she welcomed the strange but lovely feeling.
Over the next few weeks, [Name] improved her swimming and breathing tremendously. Despite almost being separated from the learning group her family was in, [Name]’s skill only increase. She heard what the Metkayina kids would say and watched how they would move, hoping to use this information to better her own skills. All of these worked and many of the Metkayina kids noticed this. An outsider learning their ways at the speed she did? That was something to speak about.
[Name]’s improvement of skill and thus overall attitude went unnoticed by the Sully family, although this time she did not have a reason why. The best answer she could come up with was that they were busy. But what were they busy with? Neteyam was no longer training to be the future Olo'eyktan nor Kiri as the Tsahik, so why were all of their attention still away from their oldest daughter and sibling? The sheer truth of the matter always seemed to bring tears to [Name] whenever the thought came to her mind.
So she stayed in the background, trying to throw herself into the ways of the Metkayina. And while she seemed to do much better than her siblings, it didn’t help her gain any attention. The only thing that staying in the background did was shield [Name] from most of Ao’nung’s teasing. That didn’t stop [Name] from seeing the teasing that Ao’nung berated her siblings with.
It was one sunny day on the shore of the Metkayina clan, Kiri was watching a place in the sand and [Name] stood not far from her by a tree. [Name] had been mildly worried about Kiri for the past few days, and how she had been treated by the kids of the ocean tribe. So, [Name] choose to stick by her that day, while Kiri laid alone on the beach. And it was a good thing she did because it wasn’t long when Ao’nung and his friends decided to pay her a visit. They had made their way over to her, laughing and calling her a freak. Kiri, being the sweet heart she is, didn’t understand what was happening at first, but quickly understood when they continued to call her names.
[Name] walked away from the tree she was leaning on, shouting at the boys to stop teasing her and leave her alone. Lo’ak joined her, not willing to let anyone pick on his sister. Lo’ak was about to fight them when Neteyam showed up with his future clan leader ways. [Name] almost rolled her eyes at his mediating, but ended up smiling when he seemed to resolve the conflict. She was always proud of Neteyam for his charm. But then of course Lo’ak wasn’t ready to let go and he turned around to punch Ao’nung after cleverly tricking him. One thing lead to another and Neteyam and Lo’ak were fighting the whole group as Kiri and [Name] fought to keep down their laughs.
It was only two days later that [Name] sat at that very same beach, enjoying the waves crash against the shore. The last few days, she had been hard at work, doing everything she could to be faster, hold her breath longer; be better. That’s all she had ever wanted. This day, [Name] decided she was going to take a break while the others did as well. [Name] let her self-take a deep breath, enjoying the air while it was in her lungs. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sun when all of a sudden her vision becomes dark as if a shadow had blocked her from the sun. Furrowing her eyebrows, she opened her eyes to find that Ao’nung and his friends surrounding her.
[Name] could only scuff, she could only imagine what they wanted with her. Standing up and beginning to walk away is when they began their teasing.
“Freak!”
“She has demon blood.”
“Not even real Na’vi.”
[Name] could only shake her head, it didn’t really matter, she just wanted to leave. But they blocked her exit, surrounding her completely.
“Where are your brothers? What they no here to save you?”
“They probably don’t even care about you, freak!”
[Name] only looked at the floor blankly. A few minutes went by and [Name] could tell that the group was waiting for something to happen or someone to pop out of nowhere and stop them. But when that never came, the smirks on their face seemed to drop like flys.
“You are probably right, they don’t really care about me,” [Name] spoke evenly. She knew this to be true, as much as she didn’t want to think about it. It had always been true.
The boys looked around at each other, still hoping that one of her brothers would walk out of nowhere and yell at them for messing with their sister. But as [Name] expected, still no one came.
Ao’nung shook his head incredulously, “That cannot be true, they tried to beat us up for Kiri.”
“And I bet they would do it again, but I am not Kiri,” [Name] sighed, her previously tense shoulders deflated in defeat.
“Why are they not here than?”
“Well, I have never really had the same amount of respect my siblings have had. Even being the oldest never seemed to reward me with much attention.”
“You are the oldest? Why were you not taught the ways of the Tsahik?”
“Oh you heard about that did you? I am still not sure. Kiri was always the best choice, but as the oldest, I still think I should have been taught as well.” [Name] looked down at the sand once again, she did not like to have such thoughts.
Another boy piped in, “You are always separate from them, why is that?”
[Name] sighed, her struggles with family were not easy to explain, especially not in front of a group of strangers known for teasing.
“I’ve always tried to be close with my family, but whether they know it or not, they seem to always push me away.”
All of the boys shook their heads, seemingly ashamed of this behaviour as if they could never.
“How long has that been going on?” Ao’nung asked, leaning forward as if he needed to know the answer.
“Pretty much since Neteyam and Kiri were born,” [Name] exhaled, biting her tongue. “Not that it really matters, I love my family so much it doesn’t even matter.”
All of the boys looked at each other once again, except this time a silent understanding passed between them and they nodded in unison.
Ao’nung began to speak again, this time he had no hint of teasing in his voice.
“We did not wish to tease you or make fun of you, we just wanted to get back at your brothers for roughing us up.”
“Yeah,” Another boy began. “We just wanted to get on their nerves, you were just collateral.”
“In all honesty, many of the Metkayina kids have noticed how hard you have been working to learn more and how amazing you are in the water,” Ao’nung explained in earnest.
Whoops of agreement sounded from around [Name], and the girl found herself smiling at the support.
“Wow… I didn’t know anyone noticed…” [Name] muttered.
“How could we not? A forest girl swimming better than many of our own? Thats unheard of!” Ao’nung beamed at the oldest Sully girl and [Name] bit her lip to stop her from giggling.
“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, thank you so much.” [Name] smiled at the group with the most genuine smile she has had in a long time.
“While we are here,” One of the boys behind her started. “My sister has always wanted to meet you, I would love to introduce you to her.”
“Yeah my sister would love you!”
Many of the boys offered to introduce [Name] to members of their family that would love her. The thought had almost sent [Name] to tears as she beamed at the boys around her.
“You should hang out with us, you know, join our group," Ao’nung suggested, looking around for conformation.
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” [Name] smiled sadly.
“Do you all want to be friends with [Name]?” Ao’nung asked loudly, looking around at the boys again.
When all they heard were whoops of approval, [Name]’s face was bright and her eyes glassy.
“You have no idea what this means to me, thank you guys so much.”
“Don’t sweat it, you are one of us now.”
And one of them she was. From that day on, [Name] was with Ao’nung and his friends all day every day. It was only a few days until the boys introduced [Name] to their sisters and other friends. And they loved her, playing games with her, challenge her to races, hunt beside her, and laughing with her. [Name] had been having the best time of her life. She would wake up early and go to bed late in order to make the most of her time.
She started to get close with the girls of the clan, being invited to braiding circles and gossip sessions. [Name] was finally getting the attention she never had, and she loved it. Although at times she would miss her family, having hardly any time spent with them, she knew that they didn’t notice her absence. Every time a thought of her family crossed her mind, one of the girls would help her remove it from mind. They had her back, and she sure as hell had theirs.
[Name] even bonded with a Tulkun, effectively reenforcing that she was Metkayina in all who knew her’s minds. Everyday became one of hope and happiness for [Name] and she could hardly remember he life in the forest. As much as she loved the forest, a place that she would always regard as home, she felt more at home with the Metkayina then anywhere else.
Apparently one Sully had taken notice of the absence of the oldest Sully sister, and Tuk was upset that nobody else noticed. The brushed her off at first, telling Tuk that [Name] was just doing her own thing as she did. But after a few months, Tuks nagging became more and more rational, leaving the family to think, where was [Name]?
[Name] was sat on the beach one day just before eclipse hanging out with Ao’nung when Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Kiri cornered them.
“Where have you been?” Lo’ak inquired, his fists tight and voice strained.
“Here,” Ao’nung laughed, watching as a slight smile grew on [Name]’s face.
“You know what we mean, where have you been the last few months, [Name]?” Neteyam stared at his older sister’s face as if searching for an answer.
“I didn’t think you would notice…” [Name] muttered to herself.
“What?” Kiri asked sadly.
“I have been with the Metkayina, with my friends,” [Name] put simply.
“But we are your friends [Name]! We are your family!” Lo’ak exclaimed.
The calm that once sat on [Name]’s face drained at Lo’ak’s words. Ao’nung chuckled breathlessly at Lo’ak, what was he saying.
“Some family you are. You just left her to be on her own and didn’t even notice when she was absent!” Ao’nung was furious at this point, having seen everything.
“What, that is not fair! We having been learning! We were busy learning your ways,” Neteyam explained.
“[Name] has been doing just fine, and she hadn’t ignored you at all until we stepped in.” Ao’nung stated.
“Step in my ass, she was probably bullied into being friends by you! No way she would choose you and your friends over us,” Lo’ak argued.
“Is that true, Lo’ak? Do you really think that I would chose people that have never chosen me over over them? I was not bullied, Lo’ak, I chose them,” [Name] explained, finally having enough.
“While you all were out doing whatever you were, I was left alone, never being allowed a spot in the family. Lo’ak, you always say you are the outcast, but you have no idea.” [Name] hardly understood what she was saying, all of the pent up feelings buried deep seeming to explode.
“You should have told us! We would have helped you!” Kiri spoke, trying to reason.
“No, Kiri! I couldn’t have! I was alone, left to fend for myself. You all were alway to busy and at the end of the day it didn’t ever matter what I did, it was never enough!” Tears were streaming down [Name]’s face at this point.
[Name] took several deep breaths as the Sully siblings reflected on their lives.
“Can you all just let me enjoy this?” [Name]’s voice was much softer now, more vulnerable. “I was happy, can’t you just let me be happy?”
[Name]’s words broke them, tears starting to swell in their eyes. Ao’nung wrapped his arm around [Name], whispering comforting words in her ear. Then from behind them, a whole group of Metkayina kids walk out from behind a rock and surround [Name] and Ao’nung.
“We really don’t appreciate how you have been treating our sister.”
“Yeah, you are kinda shit siblings, how can you forget your sister?”
“Don’t you know how kind she is?”
“Can’t you see how skilled she has become?”
“Why don’t you see her love for you guys despite how you have always treated her?”
Their words were like knifes in their hearts, far worse than Ao’nung had ever said to them. And as they started to retreat back to the village, all they could think about was how it all went wrong. How much had they witnessed and still missed. Looking back, not many of their memories included their older sister. As they approached their marui, their thoughts went to Tuk, who has loved [Name] the most. How was she going to respond? How was their mother or father? The day [Name] left them would always leave a scar in their hearts, how could she betray them?
Or really, how could they betray her?
A/n: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! Hope you enjoyed, because I sold my soul to the devil for you <333333
Summary: The Fantastic Four thought they were done dealing with cosmic threats after the defeat of Galactus. That is, until you crash-landed in Gramercy Park. Except, you aren't a threat, and Johnny Storm might be head over heels in love with a woman who couldn't care less for his flirting...again.
Warnings: little steamy but nothing major, making out, so much god damn fluff, some angst, some adult themes mentioned, strangers to friends to lovers, Johnny is a massive flirt, star-crossed lovers, slow burn, bittersweet ending but there will be a sequel, SPOILERS! for The Fantastic Four: First Steps, MCU spoilers, female reader but no characteristics described, reader kind of has PTSD, maybe some incorrect stuff regarding the 60s and how it worked but it's a fantasy world, VERY lightly edited so apologies for any mistakes
Word Count: 24,720 words
Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here
READ PART 2: Irrevocably : ̗̀➛ Johnny Storm x Reader
Johnny Storm was barely paying attention to the conversation happening around the dining room table of the Baxter Building. Instead, he dug his hand even further into the Lucky Charms box, popping another handful of the cereal into his mouth.
Sue shot him a look across the table, half of the bits of cereal falling from the side of his mouth to the table. His only response was an incredulous look her way, which was met with an affectionate eye roll from his sister.
“He probably just got caught up with something,” Sue tried to calm Ben’s nerves, bouncing little Franklin in her arms as he babbled out nonsense of some kind. That was enough to bring a smile to Sue’s face, her lips pressing a kiss to the side of his little head. “You know how Reed is.”
“Ben’s got a point, though,” Johnny chimed in, as the giant rock hand of his friend swiped his cereal box from his hands. With a defeated sigh, he decided he wasn’t going to start a fight over it, turning his gaze back to his sister and nephew. “Last time he was late for Sunday dinner it’s because you were pregnant and he was having an existential crisis. As much as I enjoyed that crisis, I think we’ve dealt with enough in the last few months.”
He wasn’t wrong, and he knew it. They all knew it. A year later and the aftermath of Galactus and Shalla-Bal still hung in the air. The implications of intelligent, threatening life out there in the universe casting a shadow over every news broadcast across the globe.
“That’s exactly my point,” Ben high fived Johnny from across the table, turning his gaze to Sue as well. “If he’s this caught up with something to miss family dinner, that means he found something.”
“And we all know when your husband finds something, that spells trouble for the rest of us,” Johnny lit his hand on fire for added effect, lips pursed as he waved the burning flames around gently in the air. “For example…cosmic radiation.”
It was clear that Sue wanted to argue with the pair, but Johnny knew there was no arguing with them. Their point was made, and that smirk on his face creeped in as Sue sighed, rising to her feet with Franklin situated on her hip.
“Alright, fine. Let’s go see what he’s up to,”
The chorus of cheers shared between Ben and Johnny from behind was surely making Sue roll her eyes once again. Any moments that Johnny was given to bother his brother in law in the lab was a win in his book.
Following his sister into the elevator, Johnny snapped his fingers in Ben’s direction as they descended toward the lab floor.
“10 bucks says it’s another alien woman,”
Ben’s groan sounded through the elevator, bouncing off the walls. Short laughter from Sue mixed in with it, even as she shook her head in response.
“Johnny, just because the first one dumped you, doesn’t mean you can go chasing after any alien woman in existence,”
“She never dumped me, for your information. She heroically sacrificed herself to save me because of her deep, profound love for me,” the shove Ben gave Johnny’s shoulder pushed him into the wall of the elevator. All he could do was shoot the rock man a glare, following his family out of the elevator and onto the lab floor, but not before pretending to grab at little Franklin’s nose to make the baby laugh. “Plus, I think it’s about time little Franklin got an auntie. A cool one.”
None of them were prepared for the mess of a lab they were stepping into.
Papers scattered the entire floor, from the workstation to the chalkboards. Those chalkboards had a thousand equations scattered across them: some scribbled out, others circled over a hundred times. Poor Herbie was frantically moving throughout the room, trying and failing to pick up every piece of paper that he could and bring some form of organization to the room.
“Uh, Suze,” it was Ben’s voice that cut in first, the trio stood just outside the elevator doors in mild shock at the state of the lab that was usually pristine. “I think your husband may have finally lost it.”
“That or he bought some drugs and tried them for the first time,” Johnny tacked on in a mumble that still got him an unimpressed look from his sister.
Johnny wasn’t wrong, though, and neither was Ben. Reed Richards looked like a certified mess.
He stood at the far end of the lab, moving between workstations at the deep blue tables lining the area in a half circle. He typed viciously, new data points mapped upon the screens adorning the walls. The middle screen, the largest, held a map to the entirety of New York City, markings appearing every so often in certain sections of the city before disappearing.
Even as the group approached, Reed never moved from his place, still typing away as he mumbled to himself.
“Reed,” Sue spoke up, just as her husband stalked across the floor once more.
The freshly written upon papers in his hands fell to the ground the second he laid eyes on them. Hair slightly disheveled, tie almost entirely undone, Reed Richards looked as if he had been rocked by a hurricane.
“Something is coming,”
Those were all the words he had to say. Johnny felt as if the air had been knocked from his lungs, as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked straight out. He heard the sharp intake of breath from his sister first, before Ben stepped forward.
“Reed, what are you talking about?”
Ben quickly had multiple papers shoved into his hands as Reed gestured to the large screen showing the map of New York. One of the workstations beeped as the scientist quickly logged whatever data his system had just mapped out, another blip appearing on the screen that Reed pointed to desperately.
“For the last fifteen minutes, I’ve been tracking these energy signatures,” the map zoomed in on a focused location of the city. “They’re appearing at strange intervals. They started just a minute or two apart, but have grown to be just seconds apart now. All contained in an area between 24th and 17th street, in conjunction with Park Ave and 3rd Ave.”
“Gramercy Park?” Johnny chimed in, crossing his arms over his chest. He cocked his head slightly, looking at the map and the park that lay directly between the streets his brother-in-law had just named off. Honestly, he was still trying to understand what it was he was looking at, or just understand Reed’s mental state as a whole. “Maybe your baby proofing didn’t work and the Wizard is just out of prison.”
“That was my first thought as well, but the energy signatures proved me incorrect,” Johnny only rolled his eyes, running a hand down his face at Reed’s inability to take a joke. “These energy signatures are different, even more so than those of the Herald. It’s a culmination of dimensional energy–energy that’s being pulled from the fabric of the universe itself–it matches with energies given off by planets, or even stars themselves. But there’s another component to it, something so inherently not scientifically explainable that I can’t understand.”
Johnny shared a look with his sister and Ben, and even a look with confused little Franklin, before Sue chimed in.
“Okay, so there’s some weird space energy in the area-”
“Energy that has organic life woven into it,” Reed emphasized for those standing in front of him. He crossed the room back to his desk, pulling up a clear imaging of the energy itself from a nearby street camera that happened to catch the pulse. It was like a burst of blue strands, interwoven, pulsing and dousing the surrounding area in color, before it blinked away. “This energy beats, like a heartbeat. It moves organically, as if being pushed and pulled by someone. Compare these scans with a simple energy scan of any one of us, anyone in New York for that matter, and the fundamentals match perfectly. This isn’t some cosmic energy seeping into our earth for a moment, there’s something attached to it, something causing it. It’s forewarning something–someone.”
The lab grew quiet, the weight of Reed’s words hung in the air. For Johnny, they hung a little harder.
The last time something–someone–showed up on this Earth, he’d almost lost his family, lost his nephew. He had lost his sister, even for just a brief moment, but that was enough. Enough to never want to be put through this again. Johnny’s jaw clenched at the memory, his gaze flickering back to the screens.
“Why’s the park empty?” he questioned, gesturing to the live feed of the park from security cameras placed around light poles. “It’s not even 8 at night.”
“Suspicious activity in the area over the last week. I spoke to the mayor and had a curfew put in place out of an abundance of caution,” Sue chimed in.
“Okay, so another space alien is coming,” Ben clapped his hands together, the sound echoing as it drew everyone’s attention to him. “We threw the devourer of worlds through a portal to deep space…let’s just do that again.”
“This isn’t Galactus,” Reed muttered, voice just loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room as he turned back to the screens before him. “This is something else.”
Before anyone else could speak again, another pulsation of blue energy directly in the center of the park this time. Bigger than the others, strands of energy moving and beating in the air. Growing brighter, bathing the park in light.
The power of the building flickered for half a second before the live feed into the park cut off suddenly. Reed tapped incessantly, trying to bring it back, but it was no use.
“Reed…what is that?”
On the main screen, right in the center of the park on the New York City map, was one single blip of energy. Unlike the other blips, this one didn’t leave. It held steady.
“Johnny-” his name had barely left Reed’s mouth before Johnny was at the windows of the lab, swinging them open before streaking through the air in a blaze of red and orange.
No one was threatening his family again.
Gramercy Park wasn’t far away from the Baxter Building, especially not for a man who could light himself on fire and streak through the air at speeds humans couldn’t comprehend.
The park and every surrounding street was quiet the second his feet touched down on the pavement, flames dissipating from his body with a single thought.
The trees rustled above him in the night time breeze, stray leaves breaking off of the branches and falling to the ground. In the distance Johnny could faintly hear the usual sound of New York traffic, the muffled sound of sirens streets and streets away.
Straight ahead of him, down the path, laid the circle of greenery and flowers planted around the statue that sat in the middle of the park.
When he approached the center of the park apprehensively, flaming fist at his side ready to attack, the last thing he expected to see was you.
Pacing back and forth until the point he was sure you’d burn lines into the ground under your feet, you were glancing up at the sky over and over, muttering something to yourself. He cocked his head as he creeped closer, taking in the clothes that adorned your body: a pain of jeans adorned with so many tears and holes he couldn’t comprehend why you were still wearing them, and a tight fitting shirt that plunged way too far down your sternum to be considered decent to wear…anywhere. He wasn’t sure he’d even seen a woman wearing a shirt quite that revealing before.
His foot hit a single branch littering the pavement, ten feet from you now, before you froze and spun on your heels to face him. Johnny was pretty sure every bit of oxygen in the air was ripped away the second his eyes locked with yours.
Well, fuck, you are the prettiest fucking woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
It was the only thought capable of filtering through Johnny’s head. Reed must have gotten something wrong in his data, been tracking something that didn’t really exist, because there was no way that you were the blip that had appeared on the map. You were just another New Yorker–a drop dead gorgeous one, at that–who was out past the mandatory curfew…even if the clothing you bore threw him for a loop.
You didn’t look scared of him, his hand still burning with flames at his side. He could see the way your eyes drifted to the fire, head almost tilting in curiosity, before you glanced back at his face. Your hands were held out at your sides, fingers flexing as if you were prepared to defend yourself if the need arose.
Johnny wasn’t going to hurt you. You were a civilian, one who should be in her home during this curfew. Just another normal civilian that he would definitely be coming back to this area for the following day so he could figure out where you worked, or which cafe you visited most often so he could orchestrate a way to run into you again-
His watch beeped, that familiar alert sound. Johnny’s eyes tore themselves away from you for just a second to glance down: an energy reading, matching the same one from Reed’s lab, pointed directly at you.
Way to go, Johnny. Get the hots for yet another alien woman that’s probably here to destroy your world and kill your family. Nice job. Way to go. Ben totally isn’t going to make fun of you for this.
“I’m not usually one for telling strong, pretty women what to do,” Johnny quipped, flames igniting on his other hands, both now burning bright at his sides. “But you’re out after curfew.”
“Curfew?” you had practically barked out a laugh, and fuck Johnny hated the fact that even your voice was pretty. Even as it was dripping in disbelief. “Yeah, right. I haven’t seen a single curfew ever go into effect in this city through the multiple alien incursions it’s seen.”
Johnny cocked his head immediately: multiple alien incursions? Given that Shalla-Bal was the only alien he’d watched descend into Times Square, he was utterly confused.
“Makes sense–given that you’re another one of those alien incursions–that you don’t know about the curfew,” flames burning just a tad bit brighter, crawling up his forearms, Johnny raised his hands in your direction as he took a cautious step forward. “I’d prefer not to hurt you, doll, so why don’t we do this peacefully and you just come with me?”
It happened in the blink of an eye. Johnny’s eyes never left you as your head tilted just slightly, a flash of blue crossing your eyes as your fingers twitched at your sides, before suddenly his arms were enveloped.
Like a casing of blue tinted energy, pulsing around his hands and up his forearms, the flames that ignited Johnny’s skin were extinguished in moments. Blue eyes shooting wide open, he shook his hands frantically. Willing himself in his head, telling his flames to ignite, but they wouldn’t. Every wave of his arms did nothing, the blue energy unmoving and shifting with him.
“No use trying, pretty boy. There’s not a single ounce of oxygen in the air around your arms right now, so I suggest you keep the flames at bay because I’d prefer not to do that to your entire body,” you shot back at him. With a single wave of your hand, the casing of energy dropped from around his arms. Johnny let the fires reignite for just a moment, confirming that he could indeed use his power again, before his wide eyes shot back to you.
“...I’m going to be so honest, I can’t tell if I’m terrified or completely turned on right now,”
“I’m, also, not an alien. I grew up upstate. And, why does Gramercy Park look so…weird?” Johnny’s comment was ignored, even though it was a valid question that he was trying to work out in his head. He instead watched you spin around on your heels, pointing around the park and up toward the surrounding buildings. “I know I haven’t left the Sanctum in a few days, but I feel like I would’ve heard construction. That building was never white, that one–wait, how did they build an above ground subway system? That wasn’t there three days ago when I got in, and I know for a fact the city doesn’t have the budget for this.”
In all of his life, Johnny Storm had never been more confused. He’d sat through countless lectures from Reed about matters of organic chemistry that he didn’t understand in the slightest, or cooking lessons from Ben that ended in him shoving his hand deep into a box of cereal, and this was more confusing then all of those combined.
Your clothing, something just about the way you talked and looked, whatever the hell this blue energy was it looked like you were controlling–and what the hell was a Sanctum?
“Back up…the Sanctum?” Johnny chose to start there as you turned back to him. He chose to keep his flames at bay, having a gut feeling that if you really did want to cut off the oxygen around him you could, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that. “Isn’t that, like, some type of Church thing? Are you from some weird alien cult?”
“I literally just told you I wasn’t an alien. The Sanctum Sanctorum, over on Bleeker street? You know…Wong, Stephen Strange, the Masters of the Mystic Arts?” you must have seen the confusion on his face grow, because Johnny could see the moment your back seemed to straighten. “Wait, you have no clue who they are? Actually–beyond that–you have powers. How do I not know who you are?”
“Great question, sweetheart. The Fantastic Four kind of just saved the world a year ago, so I’m about as lost as you are,”
Johnny wanted to be apprehensive, wanted not to trust a word you were saying. He wanted to be cautious, to put his walls up, because the last time someone had come down into his world like this, he’d almost lost everything.
But you weren’t Shalla-Bal. You weren’t standing on a silver surfboard, speaking with confidence and heralding the end of the world.
No, when Johnny looked at you now, he saw pieces of himself. Of little him, hugging Sue, losing their mother forever. Of the version of him that came back to Earth over four years ago forever changed: confused and scared. The version of him that locked himself away in Building Q, charring the sheets and everything around him as he cried, trying to understand what was happening.
“I meant what I said, by the way,” Johnny cut in, that usual charm infiltrating his words. You were still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and he was curious, more curious then he was the moment a woman coated in silver appeared in the air. You had his full attention, even if he was still trying to figure out who the hell you were, but he hoped showing off his charm would ease the tensions a bit. “You’re a very pretty woman…and I might be turned on right now, the jury is definitely still out on that one. Took my breath away when I first saw you, and you could literally do that if you wanted to. That’s hot.”
He watched as you huffed out the semblance of a laugh, still teetering back and forth on if he was a danger to you. Given the fact that you had demonstrated your ability to cut off his oxygen…he was hoping you wouldn’t see him as a threat anymore.
“Ah, a charmer, aren’t you? Knew someone like that, been awhile since I’ve seen someone so brazenly flirt with a woman,”
“Oh darling, that’s my whole brand,”
You hummed across from him, but he caught your body language. Slightly more at ease, not as rigid anymore.
“The Fantastic Four?” your eyebrow shot up, eyes still wide with confusion, but slightly less apprehensive than before, as you brought the conversation back to that name he’d dropped. “Bit of a pretentious name to give yourselves.”
“That was all the fans,” Johnny shot back with a hint of a grin. A ghost of a smile seemed to find your mouth as well, and Johnny mentally cheered to himself that it seemed he was able to convince you he wasn’t a threat to your life.
“Fair enough. The Avengers was chosen for us…I feel like I would’ve heard about another new superhero team being formed in our absence, though,”
Johnny’s confusion was back again as he mulled over your words.
“Avengers? What are they, some superpowered band?”
It was your turn to mull over his words.
“You…you don’t know who the Avengers are?”
There was a whirl through the air as Johnny watched you glance behind him. He turned too, eyes landing on the familiar blue of the Fantasti-Car landing behind him on the pavement, Sue, Reed and Ben stepping out just moments later, practically running down the pavement toward him.
“Johnny-!”
“No, no, wait!” he called out frantically, glancing back at you again. Your hands were rigid at your sides again, fingers flexing, eyes narrowed in a terrified glare in their direction. He glanced back at his family, holding out a hand for them to stop just behind him. “She’s not a threat, I swear!”
Ben’s thunderous steps came to a halt, his head thrown back to the sky as he let out the loudest sigh in the world. “Johnny, seriously, you can’t keep falling for every alien woman you meet-”
Johnny didn’t let him finish, spinning back around to face you. His eyes pleaded with you, hoping you would see his hesitance to hurt you, feet shuffling forward a few steps. You took one back for each step he made forward, that same blue energy dancing around your hands once again.
“I really don’t want to hurt you,” you spoke, voice steady and loud enough to carry through the air. Your eyes glanced past Johnny, to his family. “Any of you. It’s not who I am, that’s not what I do. But if I have to, I will.”
“We won’t,” Johnny promised, taking a glance back at his family. Ben seemed unsure, Reed apprehensive, but Sue watched him. Curious, unsure of what he might do next. He glanced back at you. “I won’t. We’re just as confused as you are right now.”
You laughed. “I really doubt that.”
Reed brought a device out from his pocket, that same alert that came from Johnny’s watch ringing through the air as he pointed it in your direction.
“It’s coming from her,” Reed announced. Johnny tried desperately not to roll his eyes and make a comment of ‘obviously’ toward his brother-in-law. “These readings are coming from her. I was right: she’s controlling this dimensional energy, bending it to her will.”
Johnny hung his head with a sigh, still mulling over making a comment as he turned his gaze back to you. It was apologetic, accented with an eyeroll, one that brought a hint of a smirk back to your face. It worked, though, as you dropped your hands, body relaxing once more as Johnny confirmed for you once again that they didn’t want to hurt you.
With a single flick of your wrist, the device in Reed’s hands was enveloped in that same energy, wrapping around it and carrying it over to your hands before their very eyes. Johnny froze, along with the three directly behind him, as they watched it happen.
“Not energy–well, not technically–it’s magic,” you explained, never taking your eyes off the device in your hands as you fiddled with the controls. “This thing is…so strange. It looks like such a primitive piece of tech but functions so modernly. Did you get this from Stark Industries? Is this some old prototype of Tony’s that Pepper sold you?”
“I designed it,” Reed answered after a moment. You hummed, flicking your hand again as the device made its way through the air and back to Reed’s hands. “Stark Industries, are they a foreign company? Do you work for them?”
Johnny watched that confusion bubble up in your features again, tinged with nerves now. He caught it, the way your leg began to shake as the pacing you’d been doing when he first showed up resumed once again. All he could do was watch.
“T-This doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never heard of you guys, everything about New York looks different, you don’t know the Avengers, hell you don’t even know who Tony is!” you laughed, incredulously this time, as your eyes locked with Johnny’s again. “This has to be a joke, right? A-Are one of you Wong in disguise, trying to teach me a lesson for opening a book to perform a spell that I wasn’t supposed to touch-”
You stopped in the middle of your sentence.
Johnny took another step forward the second you cut your own words off with a gasp. Hand flying up to cover your mouth, your wide eyes never left him as he took a cautious step forward.
“We just want to help you. What are you talking about? Help us understand,”
“The Book of Vishanti,” you said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like the four standing in front of you were supposed to understand it. “Wong thought I was ready for powerful light magic, h-he invited me so that he could show it to me, so that I could learn from it. I should’ve listened to him, I shouldn’t have snuck down there-”
Sue stepped up to Johnny’s side. He watched his sister, the easy look on her face, the understanding in her eyes, as she spoke softly to you.
“What happened before you showed up in this park?”
“I touched the book without him, I thought I could teach myself things without him,” you spoke quickly, shaking your head frantically. “I could barely read the spell and yet I performed it anyway. Either I fucked it up, or I did it right and I didn’t know what I was doing because…this isn’t my earth. It can’t be, not with all the differences.”
Reed and Ben joined either side of Johnny and Sue now, all four of them staring down at you in front of them as you came to a realization of what had truly happened.
Through it all, Johnny just couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Curiosity pulled at him, more than it ever had before.
“What are you saying?” Reed chimed in.
“I’m saying this isn’t my universe…I think I accidentally traveled the multiverse, and I have no idea how to get back,”
❤︎
Performing a spell from the Book of Vishanti that you couldn’t yet read was, in hindsight, probably the worst idea that you had ever had in your entire young adult life.
When the Sorcerer Supreme believes that you’re ready to handle a book such as that, lined with the most powerful magic and spells and knowledge of light magic that have ever existed…it’s not hard to get an ego about it and jump the gun. You could already hear the berating you’d get from Wong, the things that Steve would’ve said to you if he was still around, the things that Sam most definitely would say to you when you got back to Washington.
If you ever got home, that is.
It was a thought you tried not to dwell on. Every night, as you closed your eyes, you saw them. The ones still here, the ones taken from you even as you fought with every ounce of you to save them all. The final look in your best friend’s eyes before she destroyed the version of herself that she had become, destroying what felt like a piece of you in the process. All so you could wind up in a world without any of them, a universe so far away from your own, nursing what felt like a shattered heart as you tried to find a way home.
You cried enough every time your head hit the pillow of the bed that wasn’t yours, you wouldn’t let the tears find you during the day too.
To their credit, the Fantastic Four were the most welcoming and kind group of people you’d ever met. If a strange woman basically crash landed in your universe, claiming to be a witch, you too would probably have hesitated. But here you were, a week later, having taken up the space on the unused guest floor of the Baxter Building at the insistence of Susan Storm. Trapped in a universe so similar to your own, but so different.
You weren’t alive in the 60s of your Earth, but now you got the chance to experience it firsthand…with a twist. It was strange how retro and yet futuristic this Earth was. The technology was advanced, sometimes more advanced than anything you had seen in your own universe, and that was all thanks to Dr. Reed Richards. You had thought that Bruce Banner and his 7 PhDs was the smartest person you would ever meet, but Reed and his 18 Doctorate degrees blew him out of the water by miles. But beyond the advanced technology of the world, everything else was still so primitive.
The clothing was different, more modest and brightly colored than anything you were used to seeing before. The hairstyles were different, sometimes shorter, almost always poofier than they were in the 2020s. They talked differently, the music was different, everything felt so familiar and yet so wrong at the same time.
This little team, this family you had stumbled upon, had been nothing but helpful, even if they were still wrapping their minds around the idea of the multiverse. The protectors of their Earth, the only superheroes this universe had compared to the plethora yours seemed to have, but some of the most down to earth people you had ever met. Reed Richards was abrasive sometimes, but curious, asking a thousand questions when you would venture out of the guest floor about your magic and the scientific properties surrounding it and its composition. Ben Grimm was kind, giving you space, but always dropping off something to eat on the guest floor for you every day. Sue Storm was kind and bright, strolling in with confidence and her son, Franklin, perched on her hip, filling your closet with an array of clothing to wear so that you would be comfortable.
Johnny Storm followed you like a puppy dog, hanging off every word you spoke and popping up in every corner of the building you found yourself in, much like he was now.
“Find anything in there?”
You rolled your eyes, tossing the book borrowed from the city library onto the coffee table of the guest floor living room. It landed with a thud on the multiple other books that Sue had picked up for you before you glanced over your shoulder, seeing Johnny stalking toward the couch you were sitting upon from the elevator.
“Just more confirmation that witches don’t seem to exist in your universe, except in the fairy tales," you shot back with a sigh. Your gaze turned to the floor to ceiling windows adorning the wall before you, giving you a glimpse of the New York skyline as night crept in on it, the sun dipping below the horizon line in the distance. “Which leaves me with exactly what I started with: nothing.”
Johnny hummed, hands grasping the back of the couch from beside you as he too glanced out over the skyline. The record player in the corner played some Elvis tune, something to fill the silence.
“Can’t you just, like, do the spell again to get home?”
“If I knew what spell I did, probably,” came your answer as you glanced over to him, finding his blue eyes already watching you. “No clue what spell I did, so without that I have no means of traversing the multiverse.”
Your gaze watched him as he left the couch, stalking across the room toward the record player. Another eye roll left you as he plucked the Elvis record off the turntable in seconds, muttering something about how that record ‘wasn’t good enough,’ before combing the collection beside it for another one.
This wasn’t the first time he’d done this over the course of the week. It felt like Johnny Storm practically lived on this guest floor with you: he’d brought his dinner down every night to eat with you, lounged around the living room while you searched through book after book, and had gone through every bit of clothing his sister had procured for you and made comments about which ones he thought you’d look best in (spoiler alert: it was every single item).
You didn’t entirely mind. His presence felt like a soothing balm over the pain that still sat within you, his ability to joke and make anyone around him smile, able to slap a bandaid over what felt like a gunshot.
“What’s music like in the 2020s?” he called out from across the room, settling on a Bob Dylan record instead that he dropped the needle down onto. “Does everyone have giant record collections now, ones that would rival my own?”
“Music is…much different than what you’re used to now,” was the response you settled on, chuckling slightly as you tried to imagine the man across the room listening to the likes of Eminem or even Taylor Swift. Taking a sip of your drink settled on the table in front of you, you dug your now dead cell phone out of your pocket, waving it around. “We listen off our phones, can connect headphones to them wirelessly. Vinyl collections are usually just collections now, not typically used to play music.”
Your cell phone was plucked straight out of your hands by Johnny himself, who had crossed the room with impressive speed. With a chuckle, you shook your head at his antics, leaning your head against your hand as you watched him inspect the dead device.
“I should tell Reed to invent this thing. Have to use that big brain for something useful,”
“And somewhere in Chicago, I can hear Martin Cooper crying that his invention is about to be stolen,”
Johnny tossed your phone back onto the cushion next to you without another thought, plopping down right next to it. Head thrown back against the back of the couch, he turned to look at you again with a giddy grin.
“Ignore the little talking box device for now, can you show me more of your magic?”
That was the question Johnny had asked at least three times a day in the week you had been on his earth. It was cute, the way his eyes would light up with excitement like a little kid every single time you showed him something new. That sparkle in them, the grin that lit up his face every single time, as he’d beg you to show him again.
You tried not to focus too much on how cute it actually was.
“What haven’t I shown you at this point?” you laughed, smile bright, though you already knew the answer. There was a neverending stream of things you could show him.
“There has to be something,” he sat up a little straighter, leaning even more into your personal space now. “Come on, I have a witch sitting in front of me. I thought those only existed in movies and books. You can’t blame a guy for being interested, baby.”
Ignoring that pet name that so easily fell from Johnny’s lips, you took a quick glance around the room. Acting as the centerpiece of the table sat a fresh bouquet of wildflowers, curated by Sue herself and brought up as a gift. Leaning forward, you plucked a single daisy from the bunch, leaning back and holding it in the space between you and Johnny.
Your eyes never stopped watching him as that familiar swirl of blue magic seeped from you, enveloping the delicate flower. The thin, white petals merged together into five beautiful petals, the white coloring fading into an enchanting ombre of orange and pink. Then, as fast as it started, your magic dissipated and the blue hue that lit up Johnny’s face disappeared.
He took the new flower from you with the brightest of grins, a sight that stirred something deep within your chest you were keen to ignore. He took a single sniff, eyes glancing back to you as his smile slipped into a charming little smirk.
“What did that poor daisy ever do to you?”
“It wasn’t a Plumeria,” you shot back with a slight laugh, plucking the flower from his hand and slipping it back into the vase. “They’re my favorite flower.”
“Noted,” he casually stretched his arm over the back of the couch, resting it over the portion directly behind your head, as that charming smirk grew even more. “Want them incorporated into the wedding decor, or should I pin one to my suit jacket so you can see it while we stand together at the altar?”
With a bright laugh, your hand met his face, pushing him back slightly as you rose from the couch, sauntering over into the kitchen with your empty glass. You could feel his eyes on you with every step.
“I have to hand it to you, Johnny, your flirting this past week has definitely gotten more brazen with each passing hour. Be careful, you might fall in love,”
“Too late, that happened when you first turned around,” shooting a glance back at him on the couch, he dramatically flopped backward on the cushions, pretending an arrow had just struck him in the chest. It was impossible not to shake your head and laugh at the sight. “I took one look at you and thought…wow, that’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
You hummed in response, pouring yourself another glass.
“Does your charm and your flattery typically get you places with the ladies?”
“Depends, is it working right now?”
Ben had warned you about Johnny’s charming personality and what would surely be incessant attempts at flirting, but you hadn’t thought the man would be as persistent as he had been this past week.
You’d taken to keeping a running list in your head of some of your favorite lines of Johnny’s that he’d thrown your way.
Are love spells a thing? You could put one on me and I wouldn’t even notice: I’m already too far gone for you, baby.
Do you think you fell into our universe because you and I were made to find each other?
Before you head back to your universe eventually, we should send you back with the last name Storm. I think it fits you nicely.
Each one had made you laugh, and you begrudgingly had to admit that most of them were quite cute. It helped that Johnny Storm was as charming as they came.
From the moment you had laid eyes on him in that park that night you’d known it. This man was a heartbreaker, a face that girls across the world surely had hanging on their bedroom walls and were fawning over. Magazines called him a playboy, his personal fan club, The Flaming Hearts, swooned at his feet over how he was the ideal man women should strive for. You saw why they fawned: Johnny was attractive, anyone with eyes could see it. Perfectly swept to the side blonde hair, blue eyes that felt deeper than the ocean, and the charm and wit to have you laughing into the night.
He could flirt all he wanted, but it was going to take more than a flirty comment and a pretty smile to make you feel a thing. Johnny Storm wasn’t the first charming man you’d ever encountered, and he surely wouldn’t be the last.
“Sorry, pretty boy,” you shook your head, finishing off your glass that you’d just poured before dumping it into the sink for later. “Takes a little more than superficial flattery to butter me up.”
“I’m pretty sure you just called me pretty, that has to count for something,”
“It doesn’t,” you shot back, leaning against the island counter as you looked across the room toward him. Johnny was rolling off the couch in the most unelegant way, hopping back up to his feet to lean against the other side of the counter from you, shooting you a wink.
“You know what they say–denial is the first step to falling in love,”
“Acceptance. The quote ends in acceptance,” you barked out another laugh, shaking your head as the man as you stood up straighter. “Now, what did you actually come up here for, or was it just to bother me?”
Johnny clapped, eyes going wide as he seemed to remember exactly why he’d come upstairs in the first place.
“Right! It’s Sunday, family dinner night. You’re invited, and I was volun-told to come and get you,”
“Of course, because I’m sure you really protested being given that job,”
As charming as ever, he shot you another wink as he banged his hands on the table.
“You already know me so well, darling,”
“Are the pet names necessary?”
“Why, are they making you swoon?” yet another wink was shot at you.
“Johnny, I’m sure your charm works on just about every other woman in this universe. You want me to swoon? It’s going to take a lot more than that,” you pointed toward the shirt on his body, the bright blue logo over his chest shining in the light. “Plus, wearing your own team merch all the time? How superficial of you.”
He feigned hurt over your comment, looking down at the logo himself.
“I’m just representing the team. Plus, it’s comfortable, like our suits are too,” Johnny instantly snapped his fingers, eyes wide again as he giddily smiled toward you across the counter. “Your suit! You’ve never shown me your superhero suit! Come on, I’m dying with anticipation here, baby.”
Even as you rolled your eyes, you indulged his request. With a single flick of your wrist, your clothing shimmered in blue tendrils of magics, transforming it into the suit you knew like it was a second skin. Reinforced black and blue fabric that trailed high up your neck and down to your wrists, down your waist and finally tucked into the black boots that sat directly below your knees. That shimmering silver “A” still sat on your belt, something you were never able to part with.
Johnny let out a low whistle, teeth biting into his bottom lip as his eyes scanned you up and down over and over again.
“Hot damn…remember that comment I made about being turned on? Yeah, yeah this is doing it for me,”
With yet another eye roll, something you were learning you did quite frequently around him, you waved off the magic and dissipated the suit once again. The look you shot at him was anything but impressed, even if you were trying to hold back laughter.
“Why are you like this?”
Before some other flirty comment could fall from his lips, the elevator dinged across the room, its large doors sliding open. Neither of you were expecting it to be little Franklin Richards stumbling out on his tiny, wobbly legs.
Tufts of blonde hair on his head, blue eyes wide as could be, a happy little smile overtook his face as he spotted the two of you in the kitchen. His little hands clapped together, incoherent but otherwise happy babbles falling from his lips.
“Frankie! What has your mom told you about playing with the elevator, little guy?”
Johnny was across the room in seconds, sweeping Franklin into his arm with a single swipe. The laughter of little Franklin echoed through the room as Johnny dipped him, practically holding the little guy upside down, before spinning him upright. The little boy wearing a matching grin to his uncle, the man he could practically be a twin of, continued to laugh as Johnny pulled his shirt up, blowing a raspberry directly into his stomach and muttering something about how ‘magic babies never listen to their mothers.’
The skip your heart did at the sight was enough to have the beginnings of a flush crawling up your skin. Maybe his charm didn’t work on you, not his flirty jokes, but this? Seeing the side of Johnny Storm that the media didn’t see, the part that wasn’t the persona he played up for the world, was enough to bring a soft smile to your face and to fully understand why people across the world fell for him so easily.
Willing the blush to go away, desperate to hide the evidence that you did, in fact, find this man cute, you stalked across the room until you came to stand beside the man and his laughing nephew. They both turned to look at you, looking like twins with their bright smiles and blue eyes. Another round of giggles fell from Franklin as you swiped your finger over the edge of his nose slightly, pushing past them both toward the waiting elevator.
“Well, come on then. Guess I shouldn’t be late for my first family dinner with the Fantastic Four,”
In all honesty, you needed Johnny to put Franklin down. He looked too adorable, making faces at the little boy as he pressed the button for the main living area on the elevator. Franklin just continued to clap, babbling nonsense.
“You’re good with him,” you cut through the silence after a moment, smile still soft as you watched the two of them beside you in the confined space.
Johnny glanced up, an air of sheepishness finding him as he laughed lightly, looking back at Franklin. The little boy was watching you once again.
“Yeah, well, what can I say? Always loved kids,”
Bringing your hand up between the two of you, with a single thought you let a little ball of blue magic appear along your fingertips. Franklin’s eyes widened, following the movement of the little ball of magic as you rolled it around your fingertips, dancing it around his head and back to your hand.
Your eyes flickered to Johnny after a moment. His head rested against the wall of the elevator still slowly moving its way down. His smile was soft, softer than you’d seen it look at you before this week, his eyes holding a gentle pensiveness as they watched you.
“What?” you questioned lightly. He shrugged, adjusting Franklin on his hip.
“Nothing. You’re just good with him, too,”
“Well, he’s not the first baby in my life,” you answered, the edges of your smile dropping just a fraction as you thought about her. The little girl that was only, what, 6 years old now? Brown hair and eyes just like her father’s, the wit and sass to match it. Universes away from you, a little piece of someone you used to hold so dear that you may never see again.
“Whoever you’re thinking about,” Johnny was more observant than you gave him credit for, picking up immediately on the thoughts that seemed to plague your mind, even if he didn’t know the full extent of them. His fingers lightly grazed your cheek, an action that you so wished didn’t feel so nice. Comforting, warm with the heat that burned within him, brushing a strand piece of hair back behind your ear, tucking it there. You met his gaze, burning with a quiet determination. “You’ll see them again. We’ll get you home.”
Ignoring the slight flutter behind your ribcage, you raised an eyebrow at him.
“Oh, you’re suddenly content with letting me go? I remember Ben telling me yesterday that you were planning to keep me trapped here forever,”
His laughter echoed into the living room as the doors to the elevator pushed open, allowing the three of you to step out into the room fully. Ben was hard at work in the kitchen, calling out things to their little helper robot, Herbie, who zoomed around the kitchen at his command. Reed’s arm stretched out across the room, setting the table without ever leaving the kitchen, his other arm wrapped around his wife as Sue laughed at something he said.
“Oh I’ll help get you home, but there are conditions to your departure,” Johnny shot back, walking alongside you toward the dining room. “The one non-negotiable is that you have to leave unequivocally in love with me-”
“Whoa, that’s a big word for you, Johnny-”
“You also have to leave admitting that I’m the most charming man that you’ve ever met-” he cut back in, cutting you off after you had cut him off.
“I mean, you’re definitely on your way to joining the ranks of Tony, Quill, and Joaquin-”
“You also have to leave with the last name Storm,” Johnny spun, back facing the kitchen, as he shot you a wink. “We can negotiate that one. I don’t want to rush our wedding, but I’d prefer you go back home with it. A little something to remember me by.”
Sue Storm was quick to slap Johnny on the shoulder as he dipped into the kitchen, practically tossing the laughing baby into his sister’s arms, before ducking around her to dip his hand into the pot of sauce that Ben was working to season. His rocky hand whacked Johnny on the shoulder, who pretended to crumble to the ground in pain as Ben cried out “you haven’t even washed your hands!”. Reed’s arm stretched across the room, coming between the two and pushing his brother-in-law to the other side of the kitchen without a word, trying to maintain a semblance of peace.
Sue sighed, pressing a kiss to her son’s head, before she turned to you: still standing still, frozen in place by the dining room table, watching the events before you unfold with a smile you couldn’t hide if you tried.
“Welcome to family dinners,” she told you with a laugh, Ben once again yelling at Johnny in the background as he dipped his hand into a cereal box. “Before you ask: yes, it is always this chaotic.”
The chaos was nice, it almost felt like home. A home you hadn’t known for years now. Watching them, you could almost picture them all, the family you used to have: a flash of Natasha’s red hair in your head, the sound of Steve’s laughter, Tony’s quips that Sam always met back just as quick, Wanda muttering to you about how you worked with idiots.
Johnny’s eyes met yours again, a soft smile and a playful wink sent your way before he ducked out of the way of Ben’s arm again, and that was somehow enough to soothe that ache in your heart for just one night
❤︎
“I know people usually look exhausted after leaving Reed’s lab…but you were down there for two hours. I’m surprised you’re alive,”
Stalking across the room into the kitchen of the Baxter Building, you faked a laugh in Ben’s direction, dipping into the fridge for a bottle of water to nurse the headache you could feel approaching. The man let out a laugh at your actions, shaking off his oversized trench coat and tossing it over toward the dining room as he placed the multiple paper bags in his hands down on the counter.
“I am, too,” you shot back at him, hopping up onto the island counter beside him to sit. Ben just laughed at your antics, rifling through the bags on the counter from the market down the street. “He asked for more blood tests, so I consented even though I told him he’s not going to find any answers to why I have magic in my blood.”
“And did he?”
“NO!”
Ben’s laugh thundered through the room as he put some of the groceries away in the cupboards. Returning to the island counter, he dipped into a smaller, white paper bag, producing a small sleeve of paper holding a warm cookie within. The headache you felt coming on almost completely dissipated the second the sweet smell filled the air.
“Good thing I grabbed some of these, then. Eat, before you pass out from blood loss,” you didn’t argue, taking the gooey chocolate chip cookie from him with a smile and sinking your teeth in. “It’s from Maisie’s. Figured it was about time I showed you the best cookies in town, not sure how I held off for two months.”
Two months. It was a time period you tried not to dwell on. If you thought too long about how long you’d been stuck in another universe with no way back home, you were sure you’d start spiraling more than you did every night that your head hit the pillow of the guest floor. The guest floor that was slowly just becoming your floor.
If you thought about it too long, you’d remember how you were starting to forget the sound of Sam’s laugh. How this was the longest you’d gone without visiting Pepper, how Morgan was probably asking where you were. You hadn’t put flowers at Nat’s grave in so long, you could only hope her sister had gone and changed the flowers.
“Well, it’s quite good,” with a slight shake of your head, you sent Ben a strained grin, enjoying the taste of the cookie. It wasn’t a lie, it was quite possibly the best cookie you’d ever had.
Ben hummed, holding your gaze for a moment, before he smiled. It was soft, but you could see it woven in: the pity.
“Thinking about home?”
You swallowed, both the bite of the cookie you’d taken and the lump that formed in your throat.
“Yeah…always am. I hate how good you are at reading me, by the way,” Ben chuckled at your comment, returning to putting the rest of the groceries away in their designated spots. “Reed offered to invent multidimensional travel again today.”
“Did you say yes?”
“No, I turned him down like I do every time,” Ben returned as you shook your head with a wry laugh. “It sucks because I know he could do it, he’d have me home within a week. But multiverse traversal spells exist, they have for a very long time, which means they obviously don’t blow a hole in the space-time continuum. I don’t need Reed to accidentally blow a hole in the entire multiverse just to get me home.”
Ben hummed. Placing one hand on the counter, his other rocky hand laid across both of your legs, delivering the slightest of squeezes in comfort that he was able to. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and practically melted under the kindness and comfort in them.
“You’re going to go home, I promise you that. You’re homesick: it’s where you belong, it’s full of the people you love, and we’ll get you back there. But think of it like this: you’re in a different universe, how many people get to experience that? Take it in, enjoy it, learn from it, eat all the Maisie’s cookies this world has to offer. The people you love will still be waiting for you back home, no matter how long it takes to get there,”
He moved away, his hand sliding back down to his side and he returned to the groceries. But his words stuck with you, hung in the air, settled deep within you.
The quiet hung there in the room for a moment as you just watched him, placing cereal box after cereal box on a shelf near the fridge. He met your gaze again when he turned around, rocky brow raising in question as you let a sigh slip past your smiling lips.
“You remind me a lot of Steve,” Ben waited, letting you collect your thoughts, never pushing. “He always knew what to say, especially to me. That’s how it feels talking to you a lot, like I’m talking to him again. I…I miss being able to talk to him.”
“Well, you can talk to me anytime,” he motioned his hand toward the cupboards of the island counter blocked by your legs. Sliding off the countertop, you stepped to the side as he bent down to put another bag away. “Who do the others remind you of?”
You mulled the question over in your head, grabbing a bag from the counter and helping Ben place the rest of the groceries away across the kitchen.
“I think Reed has to be Bruce, simply because they’re both too smart of their own good. Sue reminds me a lot of Natasha, with the way she takes care of everyone. Nat was quiet about it, but she was always picking up after the boys. Johnny…unfortunately reminds me of Tony. He’s got his same sass, wit, charm and flirtatious nature,”
Ben waved his hand in the air, a grimace on his face.
“Please, no, I don’t want to think about there being another Johnny out there in the multiverse,” you laughed, catching the bottle he threw in your direction to slot into the fridge. “Speaking of matchstick, where’s he at? He’s usually attached to your hip, what with his whole plan of whatever he calls it-”
“Ah, you mean Johnny Storm’s Complete Guide to the 60s?”
It was the dumbest name in the world, but given that Johnny had named it, you weren’t surprised. He’d taken it upon himself to give you a complete guide to what the 60s were like, with the added footnote that the weirdly futuristic 60s they lived in was bound to be different than the 60s of your own universe. Johnny had claimed you were too ‘cooped up’ on your floor of the building, and it was time you got out and ‘lived a little’ since you were here.
Johnny’s guide to the 60s began with bowling. He’d been so excited, sliding into those custom shoes for the alleyways, that you didn’t have the heart to tell him until you were beating him by 70 points in the 8th frame that bowling was very much the same game in the 2020s.
“No, that’s unfair!” Johnny had called out, mouth dropped open as he pointed an accusatory finger in your direction. The manual scoresheet in his hand was all but crumpled at this point. “You didn’t tell me bowling was still a thing!”
“To be fair, Johnny, you didn’t ask,” was the only response you could manage through your laughter, grabbing your ball once more and aligning yourself with the lane in front of you. “Bowling is very much still around, and very much the same game. I guess you just aren’t as good at it as you think you are.”
You weren’t laughing long, a spark of heat igniting along the back of your hand just as you let go of your ball. Your hand jerked immediately at the feeling, sending your ball rolling straight into the gutter. Mouth dropped open, it was your turn to point an accusatory finger in Johnny’s direction.
“Hey!”
“Leveling the playing field here, baby,” he teased, skirting by you as his fingers bumped your chin slightly, before he grabbed his own ball as his body was racked with laughter. “Now, let me show you how good I really am at this game.”
Johnny’s own laughter was short-lived. His ball made it halfway down the lane before coming to a sudden stop along the slick surface, surrounded by a hum of blue magic that flicked it off into the gutter. His betrayed face turned to face you, met with your smirk and hand held out toward the ball. You only batted your eyelashes at him.
“Hey, if you’re going to level the playing field with powers, then I am too. It’s only fair,”
“Oh, I’m going to show you fair-”
The laughter that poured out of you mixed with a shriek the second Johnny practically tackled you, throwing your body over his shoulder like it was nothing and parading you down the alley, highfiving little kids along the way as you could do nothing but laugh, smile never slipping for a second.
Go-Karting, on the other hand, was definitely a little different in the 60s. The karts themselves were much different, a lot less structurally sound at times and incapable of doing the speeds that you knew Johnny really had wanted to drive them at. He had claimed to win the race fair and square, even as you pointed out that he’d gone as far as to melt one of your tires right before you crossed the finish line.
Record stores, golfing, roller-skating, you named it and Johnny dragged you off to do it. He filled every moment with vibrant stories: the record store was one that Sue liked to take him to when they were growing up, golf was something he fell in love with after coming back from space with powers, and how roller skating was something he swore he’d never do, but the smile on your face the entire time had been well worth it.
The diner had been your favorite. Griddles & Waffles, nestled deep in the heart of Queens. A 24/7 joint that sold breakfast and breakfast only, a beloved place by locals. Johnny had been awake into the early hours of the morning that night, the only one still up, diving into a box of cereal buried in the kitchen when you screamed. The next thing you knew, he was practically diving out of the elevator onto your floor as you shakily grabbed a glass of water in the kitchen, eyes wide and panicked as he informed you that he could hear you scream floors away. One look at the state you were in and he was shoving you into the hoodie he was wearing and shoving you out of the building and into his car.
“You took me to a place with waffles in the name, and you ordered pancakes?”
Johnny’s eyebrow shot up, half of the stack of pancakes in front of him practically shoved into his mouth as he pointed the fork in his hand in your direction.
“Don’t you ever diss these pancakes, you hear me? Best flat pieces of dough in the entire state of New York,”
You couldn’t help but laugh lightly under your breath as he barely got his words out through the food in his mouth. Taking another bite of your own waffle, it was easy to get lost in the decor of the diner. Bright colors, shiny metal gleaming under the lights, it looked exactly like the recreations that existed in your own universe. The simple thought of home brought your frown back in seconds, and Johnny was instantly snapping his fingers.
“No, there’s no frowning in Griddles & Waffles, you hear me?” you rolled your eyes, but that simple thought weighed heavy on you, lips still pulled into a frown. Johnny made some motion toward the waitress before he leaned into the table toward you, drawing your gaze to him and his waiting, patient, gentle eyes. “Honey, I’m surprised that scream didn’t wake anyone else up. What’s wrong?”
“It was nothing. Just a nightmare…a memory of a day I don’t like thinking about,” you tried to deflect, shoving your fork around your plate, scraping it against the ceramic. Johnny’s hand caught yours, his eyes still soft and gentle, as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze until you relented. “It’s…I don’t like talking about it. I don’t get nightmares about it often anymore, but when I do, it feels like I’m there again: in that forest full of nothing but blood and dust.”
The blonde hummed, fingers gently rubbing small circles into your knuckles. His skin was warm, unusually warm from the heat that coursed through him, the feel of it on your skin bringing a sense of comfort. Then, he took his hand away, holding both his hands out like he was presenting something, that dazzling smirk of his lighting up his face.
“Have no fear, because Griddles & Waffles has the perfect cure for sadness!”
The waitress came back, sliding a single tall glass onto the table between the two of you with two straws tossed down onto the tabletop. You glanced at it: one large, over the top, classic chocolate milkshake with a large cherry resting right on top. You looked back up at him, your eyebrow raised this time.
“A milkshake? At two in the morning?”
“Have some faith in me, baby,” Johnny teased, slipping the two straws into the shake with ease. He took the cherry between his fingers, easily biting off the majority of the fruit as he twirled the stem between his teeth. Your eyes flicked down for just a second, to the stem between his lips and the hint of red juice that covered them, before your skin flushed and your eyes were back on his. “This is about to be the best milkshake you’ve ever had, and it’s going to cure every bit of sadness in your body.”
Johnny was known for exaggerating, but you indulged him anyway. With a short eyeroll you leaned in, taking a single sip from the straw pointed in your direction. Johnny waited, his smile wide and bright as his fingers tapped against the table, the sound echoing through the mostly empty diner in the middle of the night.
“...alright, it’s pretty damn good,”
His cheer echoed through the diner, the waitress shooting him an unimpressed look as his hands banged down on the table. Another round of laughter slipped past your lips as you shook your head at his antics.
“See? You have to trust me more often,” Johnny teased, leaning in to take a sip of the shake from his own straw. “These milkshakes are the cure to sadness.”
You didn’t have the guts in that moment to tell him the shake didn’t cure anything. No, you felt lighter simply from that boyish grin and the laughter that fell from Johnny Storm’s lips, something you weren’t keen to admit quite yet.
“Talking about me, baby? I leave you alone in the lab for a few hours and you miss me that much?”
As if hearing his name from floors away, Johnny Storm himself came strutting straight into the kitchen, charm rolling off him with every step he took. That smile of his was as bright as ever, eyes wide and full of mirth.
He practically skipped up to your side, tossing the box of food in your hand somewhere onto the counter. Cradling your hand in his, he brought it to his lips without another thought, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. His gaze never wavered from you the entire time.
With a roll of your eyes, though paired with a smile full of affection, you shoved him off, placing the box of food he’d just tossed away into its rightful place as you shot him a look over your shoulder.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Johnny. Contrary to what you think, you are not the only thing I’m thinking about,”
“You see, but that implies that I am one of the things you’re thinking about,” his response came easily as he made his way over to Ben, stealing one of Maisie’s cookies from the bag before he could be stopped. Ben only let out a sigh that could probably be heard from the other side of the city. “Nevermind that, though, I came here on a mission. The sun is setting and we’ve got a 40 minute drive, so get upstairs and attempt to look even cuter than you already do, if that’s possible.”
Exchanging a quick look with Ben as Johnny walked backwards out of the kitchen and back into the living room, you both looked back at the blonde moments later.
“Get ready for what?” you questioned. “To go where?”
“Long Island, sweetheart. Your guide to the 60s continues tonight,” he paused at the stairway, one hand on the railing and the other pointing across the room toward you. “Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes, got it?”
You considered arguing, but the truth was, you didn’t want to. Every one of these excursions with Johnny so far had been fun, had been enough to fill that little hole in your chest for a fleeting moment, and right now you wanted that more than anything.
“Alright, ten minutes,”
He clapped, beginning to move up the stairs as he practically shouted across the room.
“Good girl. It’s a date-”
“It is not a date-” your words fell on deaf ears as he went sprinting up the stairs, yelling out a distant “It very much is a date!” from the next floor. It was impossible to ignore the heat spreading in your cheeks at his words, though.
The silence of the room only hung there for a minute before Ben’s laughter filled it, echoing off the walls. Shutting your eyes for a moment, you let out a deep breath, trying to understand the enigma that was Johnny Storm sometimes, before patting Ben on the shoulder as you moved toward the elevator.
“Well, wish me luck on whatever this next excursion is. Hopefully it doesn’t involve him almost whacking me in the head with a golf club again,”
“You’ll be just fine,” Ben called out from the kitchen, speaking through his laughter. You could clearly hear the underlying teasing tone to his words. “Have fun on your date-”
“Benjamin, don’t start with me!”
It might not have been a date, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try. There really was no reason to, though: Johnny had seen you at your worst over the last two months. Always arriving on your floor sometimes at the crack of dawn with an idea for the day, startling you before you even had a chance to wipe away the mess of tears streaking across your cheeks from yet another nightmare you’d just awoken from.
It wasn’t a date. Just because you chose the cutest pair of pants and a sweater that the closet full of 60s style clothes offered didn’t mean anything. Not a damn thing.
You hated to admit how good Johnny looked in just a simple grey sweater and some slacks. Strutting toward you through the lobby of the Baxter Building, employees already sent home for the day and leaving the lobby bathed in silence, he let out a short whistle as he came to a stop in front of you.
“You say it’s not a date, but you sure do look nice,”
“That’s because your sister filled my closet with all nice clothing,” you shot back.
Johnny hummed, eyes still scanning you up and down. Eyes finding yours again, he held out his arm to you, just as he typically did on these little excursions.
“Come on,”
Hand resting in the crook of his elbow, the cool night air sank deep into your bones as you stepped outside. Johnny’s hand was quick to find the handle to the passenger side door of his custom blue Corvette, swinging it open and taking your hand in his to help you into the leather seat, just as he always did.
The leather made a noise as you shifted, buckling yourself into place as Johnny cooly slid into the driver’s seat. One hand rested on the wheel, the other drumming along the knob of the gearshift as his foot hit the gas, sending you speeding out of the drive of the Baxter Building and onto the roads of New York.
“What’s today’s adventure?” you asked after a few moments of silence. Johnny’s grin simply brightened, his glance finding you beside him for a second before his fingers turned the knobs of the radio on, filling the call with music as he continued to cruise down the streets he knew like the back of his hand.
“That’s a surprise, sweetheart. Just enjoy the drive,”
It was easy to enjoy it. The same city you’d grown up in, yet so different at the same time. Every building looked new, the atmosphere felt lighter than New York had for you in years, everything about the city you knew so well felt different. The lights, the skyline, everything still felt like home as you crossed the East River, flying through the streets of Brooklyn and eventually Queens.
The heaviness eventually found you, though, just like it had every day for the last two months. As city lights shone off the windows of the Corvette, bathing you in its light, your mind still wandered back to memories. The first time Tony had driven you upstate to the new compound in the passenger seat of the god awful orange Audi. The quietness that came with the blip, the way the entire city fell still. The sweeter moments, like dragging your best friend from the compound late one night and sneaking into the city, sitting along the Brooklyn Bridge to admire the lights.
“Hey,” those memories came to a halt, Johnny’s hand brushing across your knee, settling there with a gentle squeeze. “You’re thinking hard over there.”
You hummed, head still resting on your hand as your elbow sat against the window of the car door. You let your eyes settle on his hand, just watching the way his thumb drew circles into the side of your knee.
“Reminiscing on my New York, that’s all,”
“Ah, getting homesick,” the sight of Johnny nodding was just barely visible out of the side of your eyes, His hand slid from you, joining his other hand on the wheel. “You’ll go home, back to your futuristic universe eventually, I know it. Then you can forget all about us in this little universe.”
The radio was blaring a Frank Sinatra song, something much too slow for the night time around you. The song crackled through the speakers as you glanced over, observing the side of Johnny’s face. For a man that hid behind such an extravagant persona for the media and the fans, you could see right through it. That hint of sadness in his own features, woven into the creases of his eyes and the lines around his lips, at the thought of you leaving.
I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard.
“I think you’re underestimating how much I will miss you guys when I go home,” you told him simply, the music playing lightly through the speakers. It really was that simple, it was the truth. “I’ll miss you guys a lot. I’ll miss you.”
Johnny’s hand seemed to tighten along the steering wheel for just a second, so quick you almost missed it. Those blue eyes glanced over at you, catching your gaze. His features were riddled with something you couldn’t understand, but could see how gentle it was, until his charming smile was back, wiping away any trace of the strange emotion you had seen.
“Careful there, little witch. It’s starting to sound like you’re falling unequivocally in love with me-”
His laughter filled the car, overtaking the sound from the radio as your hand reached out and shoved his shoulder, your own laughter mixing in with his own.
“You’re fucking impossible, Johnny Storm,”
Of everywhere that you could’ve thought Johnny would be dragging you to, a drive-in theater was the last place you would’ve imagined.
The entire stretch of lawn buried deep within the heart of Long Island was packed with cars of all different kinds, vintage ones you had never seen in person. There was a group of teenagers crowded around one of the cars, hugging their friends and talking animatedly between each other. Some couples walked through the lines of vehicles, giggling together under their breath as they carried their food from the little stand off to the side.
Johnny pulled the car to a stop in one of the last remaining spots, side windows immediately rolling down to allow the sound from the mounted speakers to infiltrate the car. Night had set in, an announcement projected onto the large screen that the movie would begin soon, as you turned to find Johnny already watching you with a wide grin.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve been to drive-in theaters too?”
“They’re still a thing, but I’ve never been,” was the response you gave, a small laugh falling from your lips as he excitedly punched the air. “I have always wanted to go to one, though”
“Then your wish, princess,” in his usual dramatic fashion, Johnny stole your hand in his. With a kiss placed to your knuckles, he was already halfway out of the car before you could truly process the moment. “Is my command. Be right back with the snacks.”
You watched him the entire time he was gone. From the moment he slipped out of the car to ordering something from the snack stand, you watched. Even as the young girl working behind the counter seemed to fangirl at the sight of the Human Torch in front of her.
His charm was stupid most of the time. Little one liners, flirtatious jokes, touches that were all but friendly in nature. You didn’t care for a single one of those moments. It had been awhile, but you’d seen Tony use the same tricks. In the briefest of time you had known Peter Quill even he had tried it. Those moments meant nothing to you, but these did.
Bringing you breakfast in the morning just so you didn’t have to be alone. Dragging you around the city to participate in a thousand activities on the off chance that you hadn’t done them before, once again so that you wouldn’t feel alone and left with your thoughts. Hearing a single scream from you, seeing a single tear, and dragging you through New York in the middle of the night just to see you smile again. Those moments worked on you–meant something to you–more than you wanted them to.
The moment he was swarmed by a bunch of little kids trying to leave the snack stand didn’t help the turmoil you felt inside either. Johnny didn’t complain, not once, simply balanced the food in one arm so he could lean down and high five one of the girls, ruffling the hair of another little boy standing right next to her. He smiled wide, you could see the shake of his chest as he threw his head back in laughter, igniting his hand quickly as the kids all clapped and gasped in awe at the sight of their own personal superhero. There was a news reporter nearby, calling out for a photo that Johnny happily posed for with the kids, leaving them with one last story that had them all looking up at him in awe and adoration.
You hated the stutter that occurred in your heart. You weren’t dumb–you knew what it meant. Johnny Storm was charming, handsome, a literal superhero that had captured the hearts of the entire world. He, also, was the most down to earth man you had ever met sometimes, more observant than you gave him credit for, and too sweet for his own good.
If you thought hard enough, you could almost hear Wong’s voice in your head, scolding you for slowly falling for a man from an entirely different universe. The definition of a man you could never have, never meant to be yours.
“Got swarmed by some little kids, had to make sure I showed off the flames,” Johnny’s voice broke through your thoughts as he slid back into the car, passing a bag of popcorn over the console and into your hands. Just as he did, the large screen in the lot changed, the beginnings of the movie beginning to play as some of those teenagers from earlier began to clap and holler. “Just in time.”
Shaking those thoughts from your head, trying to will them away, you brought your gaze back to the screen. The opening shots of the credits, directors names and actors names plastered across the screen as it dove into the first scene without hesitation, situated on some mountain with hoards of people who were dressed for an even more vastly different time period than now.
“Spartacus?” a questioning glance was thrown Johnny’s way from you as you took a quick bite of your popcorn. “An action/adventure movie was your choice for a drive-in movie date?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said this wasn’t a date,” Johnny retorted, meeting your glance as he took in another handful of popcorn himself with a cheeky grin. “Besides, I didn’t peg you to be a romance movie kind of girl.”
“On some occasions I can be,” you gave back with a shrug. “A good action movie is definitely more my speed, though, so good choice.”
“What can I say, I know you,”
He did. He really did.
It was barely an hour into this three hour movie when your mind finally began to drift off again. Legs curled up on the seat under you, your own popcorn bag finished off and discarded at your feet as you reached over to steal from Johnny’s own bag, you found your thoughts leaving the movie once more. But instead of thinking about home, about the people you lost or the ones waiting for you to come back, you found them on Johnny once again.
Watching the side of his face quietly, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him mouth some of the words to the movie under his breath, almost mimicking the accents of the actors themselves. It was enough to elicit a small giggle from your lips, bringing his gaze from the movie over to you instead.
“Are you quoting this movie word for word?”
“Hey, don’t knock it. I happen to really like this movie,” your giggles persisted, even as Johnny reached into his bag and tossed a handful of popcorn in your direction. “You should see Ben watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s, he could probably act that entire movie out for you. Don’t tell him I told you that.”
“You’re both such dorks,”
“Come on, don’t you have a movie you can quote?”
You hummed, letting the question sit with you for a moment, memories rushing back over you.
“Not a movie, but a show. Full House,” Johnny’s gaze never left you, the movie long abandoned in his eyes for a moment. An idea sprang to mind, your head tilting ever so slightly as you shot him a grin. “Want to see it?”
Excitement crawled into Johnny’s eyes immediately, his head nodding as he sat up straighter in the driver’s side seat.
You took a deep breath. Holding up your hand to the door beside you, that familiar blue magic seeped from your fingertips as that same color glowed in the irises of your eyes, crawling along the interior of the car until it reached the windshield. Your eyes were watching Johnny once again, the absolute wonder in his eyes as his windshield shimmered in blue, before the screen through the windshield changed before your very eyes: gone were Kirk Douglas and Laurence Olivier, replaced instead by John Stamos and Bob Saget in that iconic kitchen of their San Francisco home.
With another flick of your hand, the speaker at your car switched, playing the sound of the show you were now broadcasting instead of the movie.
“Don’t worry, no one else can see or hear this. Just us,”
Johnny was barely paying attention to what you said, too busy dipping his head in and out of the window in shock and awe, the screen beyond the windshield still playing Spartacus while within the confines of the car your tv show was playing.
“You…I don’t know how you do it, but you somehow get hotter every time you use your magic,”
Laughing, you reached into his popcorn bag and threw an unpopped kernel at the side of his head. Resting back into your seat, arms wound around your knees, you found yourself lost in the scene before you on the screen.
“This was one of Wanda’s favorite shows,” after a minute of silence, engrossed in the scene, you told him. You could feel Johnny’s eyes watching you instead of the show. “She always liked older shows, like Bewitched or I Love Lucy. We used to watch this one all the time in the compound, whenever Steve didn’t have us training constantly.”
Johnny didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched you.
“She was your best friend, wasn’t she? I don’t think you’ve ever said her name,”
“That’s because it’s hard to talk about her,” finding his gaze again, the gentle comfort shining in his gaze washed over you, as if draping you in a blanket. Swallowing the lump in your throat that always formed when you thought too hard about her, you offered him the smallest smile you could muster. “Just a few weeks before I wound up in your universe, I lost her. She lost herself to dark magic, let it consume her, so like the brave woman she was, she chose to protect the world from herself.”
Your words hung in the air, neither of you speaking for a moment. The scene from the show continued to play out before you swiped your hand through the air, dissipating the magic and letting the picture and sound of the movie return to the screen and the little speaker. It hurt too much to relive those moments.
“Hey, do you think by showing me a show that hasn’t come out yet in my universe, this will mess up, like, space and time? Like, what if I go pitch this show to Hollywood real quick and get it made a whole decade before it’s supposed to get made?”
The car got quiet, the only sound being the audio from the movie still playing through the speakers. Raising an eyebrow, entire face contorted in confusion, soft laughter sputtered out of your lips at the simple comment.
“I…what? Johnny that…” his smile grew, as did your laughter as you struggled to get your words out. “Johnny, that doesn’t make any sense?”
“I’m aware,” his hand reached out, thumb and index finger pinching your chin between the soft pads of his fingers. Your breath caught, laughter dying down as you just stared at him, as he drew small circles into your skin, heat blooming under his touch. “You were getting sad. I just don’t like seeing you sad.”
Johnny’s words were so sincere. Not a hint of his usual charm, not a single signature Storm smirk in sight, just genuine affection. Genuine care for you, for your thoughts, for the way your memories made you feel.
The idea of never going home again hurt, but the idea of leaving the Fantastic Four? Of never seeing Johnny Storm again? That was starting to hurt even more.
Even as his blue Corvette was parked in front of the Baxter Building again late that night, headlights flickering off and plunging the car into darkness except for the street lights around the building, your eyes kept flickering back to him.
Driving through Queens, you no longer thought back on the memories of walking through the city one night with Steve when you were younger. Now, you thought about the diner, about the smile on Johnny’s face as he watched you try that milkshake in the dead of night. As you crossed over the bridge into the city, you didn’t think of the nights you and Wanda would sit on the edge and watch the city lights, you instead watched the way the lights danced over Johnny’s skin through the glass.
The elevator of the Baxter Building popped open on the floor of the main living room. The building was quiet, just a lamp in the corner by the staircase to the bedrooms lit up, everyone else fast asleep.
Johnny stepped out of the elevator, pausing just barely still in the doorway. One arm leaning on doors, keeping them open, you both just stood still and watched one another for a moment.
“For a not date, this very much felt like a date,” you threw at him after a moment. Those blue eyes of his lit up, smile lines etching themselves into his skin as his little grin grew immediately.
“Oh sweetheart, this definitely wasn’t a date. Our first date would be a lot different, trust me,”
You hummed, taking a step forward in the elevator, eyes never leaving his. There was barely space left between the two of you now. Johnny's sharp intake of breath was evident, the smile on your lips growing as you ignored every little voice in your head telling you this was a terrible idea.
“What would our first date be like?”
Surprise crawled into his expression. Eyes wide and bright, the smile on his face warped into something you couldn’t quite place. The hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks crawled forward, gingerly placing itself against your waist. Not pulling you closer, just lying there: steady, grounding, present. You didn’t push him away.
“The Regent,” he spoke softly but certainly, eyes never straying from yours. “Exclusive little dance hall just a few blocks away. Live band every night. You’d look just as beautiful as you always do, and I’d get to spend the entire night spinning you around in circles. Making you smile, watching you laugh, holding you close. That would be our first date.”
You hummed, stepping just a hair closer to him. His fingers flexed along your waist, squeezing ever so slightly, as one of your hands came to rest on his chest, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Sounds like you’ve thought about this,”
“Every night since the moment I realized you weren’t a threat that was coming to destroy my entire world…again,”
“I don’t know,” you teased, hand curling into the fabric of his shirt. “According to Sue, you’re kind of into that thing. I could always coat myself in some shiny silver paint if that does it for you.”
He huffed out a puff of air in laughter, tugging you in until you were pressed to his chest in the doorway of the elevator.
“No, you just have to be you. The pretty little witch that could cut off my oxygen supply with a flick of her wrist is all I need. All I want,”
Your eyes trailed down, along the bridge of his nose, until they settled on the pink of his lips. As you spoke, you never looked away from them.
“When would this date be?”
“Tomorrow night, 8 on the dot,”
“That’s so soon, eager?”
“Extremely, I’ve only been thinking about this for two months,”
Your laughter was soft as your eyes finally trailed back to his, only to find them settled on your lips in turn.
“It’s a date, then,”
His blue eyes found yours, shining with an affection that made your knees week. The hand gripping your waist trailed up, fingers dancing along every curve of your body, until it curled around your cheek to cup it within his hand. The heat of his skin bloomed through yours, sending a single shiver down your spine.
“You know,” his voice was low, eyes blown slightly wider than they had been before, as his eyes quickly darted back down to your lips for a moment. “This would be the moment during the date where I’d probably try and kiss you.”
Even with the flutter of butterflies through your chest, head feeling lighter than it ever had before, your lips curled into a wide grin. Eyes glowing blue for just a moment, a small burst of magic left the hand resting on his chest, pushing him backward and out of the elevator doors.
Johnny’s wide eyes watched you as he caught himself, steadying himself on the ground as he stared at you with a dumbfounded smile. You only returned the look, pressing the button for the guest floor without ever breaking eye contact.
“Guess you’ll have to try your luck tomorrow night,”
Even with the amount of bravado laced into your words as the elevator doors swung shut, cutting you off from Johnny’s captivating gaze, nothing could quell the swell of emotion building behind your chest at the simple thought of the blonde man who’d managed to capture your heart without even really trying.
❤︎
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you want to go on a date with matchstick. I mean, he’s my buddy, he's a great kid, but come on. There’s no one waiting for you back in your universe?”
Ben’s comment earned him another affectionate eyeroll from you, along with a deadpan look shot across the kitchen island counter.
He was deep into making a fresh batch of cookies that he had been given the recipe for, the little old woman he’d met claiming they could match the quality of Maisie’s cookies. Reed was skeptical of the recipe, trying to offer advice from further down the counter, but Ben waved him off every single time.
Little Franklin was sitting in his highchair at the counter between you and Sue, babbling incoherently as he played with the little pieces of cereal laid on the counter in front of him. You were simply flicking the little pieces around with little tendrils of blue magic, Sue laughing every single time Franklin tried to catch a piece and you yanked it away.
“No, Ben, there’s no one waiting for me back home,” was the answer you gave the man, never looking up once as you continued to toy with the food on the counter. “Being a superhero for most of your life kind of makes dating an impossible situation.”
“I, for one, fully support this,” Sue chimed in, rising from her chair to refill Franklin’s bottle on the counter. She passed behind you, reaching out to help smooth down the white long sleeve blouse along your shoulders, forcing you to adjust it along your waist where it was tucked into the navy blue slacks she had helped you pick out earlier on. “This is the first time I’ve seen Johnny so head over heels for a woman in a way that might just stick. He worships the ground that you walk on, I love to see it.”
“It helps that you could kill him if you really wanted to,” Ben threw in for good measure, ducking the slap that Sue tried to land on his shoulder. “Sometimes I think it’s a secret kink of his-”
“Okay, I don’t want to hear about what kinks my little brother may or may not have,”
You laughed at the antics you had grown so used to from the group in front of you. Franklin got upset with the constant moving of his little cereal bits, grabbing a handful and tossing them toward you. Wide eyed at his antics, you grabbed onto his tiny hand, blowing a raspberry into the palm of his hand as his shrieks and giggles sounded throughout the room.
“Reed, I’m surprised you don’t have any comments to add in,” you threw in the super genius’ direction. “Nothing about how we’re from two different universes, or how this could blow up the entire multiverse?”
“I’ve been taking notes regarding it, actually,” Ben’s groan sounded through the room the second Reed said it, pulling a notebook out of his back pocket and flipping it open. “Your genetic makeup, based on previous tests, seemed to align with ours, but that doesn’t mean that fundamentally there isn’t something woven into your DNA that doesn’t match with ours. There’s also the idea that, given you’re from two different universes, you were never supposed to meet, so if you managed to fall in love there could be an unforeseen breakdown of the fabric of the-”
Sue’s hand immediately clamped over her husband’s mouth, giving him an unimpressed look, as she shot you the brightest smile she could manage. She slid the now refilled cup for Franklin across the counter to you as you caught it, laughing under your breath at the entire situation as you handed it over to the little boy beside you who made grabby hands in its direction.
“What Reed means to say is that you’re good for him, and honestly, we haven’t seen you as happy as you’ve been the last few weeks since you started spending more time with him. Since you got here he hasn’t done a single PR nightmare worthy thing. I think Lynne might want to get you the keys to the city for it,”
“What are we getting my girl keys to the city for?”
Maybe his charm never worked on you, his endless flirtatious moves and jokes. But in this moment, as he descended the stairs into the living room and your heart stuttered over several beats, you finally understood the hoards of women across the universe that had Johnny Storm plastered across their walls and their hearts.
The navy blue button up he adorned clung to him, almost slightly too tight on him as the fabric pulled in the creases under his arms and by his waist. It was tucked into a pair of white chino pants, accented with navy blue dress shoes. His smile was bright, cheeky as it always was, his hands clasped together behind his back as he made his way across the living room.
Taking a semi-shaky stand on the strappy heels that Sue had helped you into before, you met him halfway across the room, a hush having fallen over the kitchen as you felt their eyes watching every movement both of you made.
Johnny’s eyes trailed up and down your body the second you came to a stop in front of him, taking in the navy blue of your pants and the white of your blouse, before he cheekily shot you a wink.
“Twinning on the first date? What’s the slang they use in your time for that? Couple goals, wasn't it?”
“Couple?” your eyebrow shot up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Storm. You have to earn that.”
“Oh, I’ll earn it,” his hands finally unclasped from behind his back, thrusting out toward you. “For you, gorgeous.”
A beautiful bouquet of flowers: Plumeria flowers. Glittering in an ombre of pinks and oranges, taking you back to one of those first nights on that couch just a few floors away.
You took the bouquet in your hands, eyes never leaving Johnny’s as you inhaled the sweet scent that wafted from the petals. The adoration that shone in his blue eyes sent your heart into another flutter.
“My favorite,” you responded.
“What, did you think I’d forget?”
“Kind of,”
“Give me a little more credit, darling,” he lifted one of your hands from the bouquet, cradling it in his as he left a kiss along your knuckles. “When it comes to you, I don’t think I could forget even if I tried.”
“Can you two leave for your date and go flirt elsewhere? My god, this is painful to watch,”
Sue laughed at Ben’s comment, and you joined in. Johnny shot the man a look, flipping him the bird that you were sure was being shot right back at him from behind your back.
Sue saddled up to your side seconds later, plucking the bouquet from your hands with a soft smile.
“I’ll put these in water for you and leave them upstairs,” she shot her eyes to Johnny, narrowing them. “Treat her well or I will cover for her when she drags your lifeless body back later tonight.”
Too busy laughing, you never even noticed Johnny’s eye roll toward his sister. The only thing you could comprehend as he pulled you into the awaiting elevator was the feeling of his fingers slipping into the empty spaces between yours, intertwining your hand with his.
It felt right. Too right for two people who should have never met one another.
The Regent was situated just a few blocks away from the Baxter Building, the perfect distance to walk straight there. You weren’t complaining, not with the way Johnny gripped your hand like he was afraid you’d pull it away, every so often tugging it gently so that your body fell into his, arm brushing against his arm.
“We fought with Moleman–well, I guess he prefers to be called Harvey–right here,” he pointed out just a few blocks from the Baxter Building, gesturing toward the blocked off area right beside a small park. There were fences up around what looked like a giant hole in the ground with just the very top of a building sticking out of it, signs indicating ‘keep out’ to everyone that walked past. “He runs Subterranea, the whole civilization under New York.”
“There’s an entire city under this city?” you questioned, looking up at him in alarm.
“Oh yeah, you guys don’t have that?” he quirked an eyebrow toward you as you shook your head in response. “He stole the entire Pan Am building, sinking it down into the ground before we could stop him. Been years and they’re still working on what to do with it.”
You took a single glance around: 45th Street and Park Avenue. The familiar intersection made you smile, one that Johnny seemed to understand all too well. Taking a quick glance around to ensure that there weren’t too many people watching, you slipped your hand from Johnny’s in order to tilt his head to look at where the building used to stand. With a single wave of your fingertips toward his temples, blue seeping into his eyes, you could see the moment they widened at the sight you were projecting to him.
“In my world, this was the site of the Avengers tower,” you could see the glamour you were showing him, but you knew it like the back of your hand. The tower that hung high above the skyline of the city, the shining ‘A’ that matched the one hanging from the belt of your suit. “It was Stark Tower, until Tony decided to fashion it into a base of operations for the team after the battle of New York.”
The vision faded, the traces of your magic leaving Johnny’s eyes, as they turned back to look at you. His hand found yours again without hesitation, fingers tangling with yours again as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him.
“How do you possibly get cooler and more interesting with every passing thing you tell me and show me? It’s not fair,”
Johnny filled every second of the walk with story after story. A diner on the corner that he’d rescued a little girl from during another fight in the city, and the way she’d hid behind her father shyly the second he’d dropped her back down on the ground. Another diner just a block away that he’d dragged Reed to after he’d locked himself in his lab for upwards of 48 hours, not having eaten a single thing to the point where Sue was concerned he’d just pass out on the floor in front of his chalkboard. The bakery that sat underneath a row of apartments that Johnny was convinced had the best pie in the world, but Ben still argued there wasn’t a single bakery in the world that could compare to Maisie’s over on Yancy Street.
Before you knew it, you were standing before The Regent. Elegant, sign shimmering and lighting up the darkened sidewalk before it. One single man stood at the door, surveying the area. With one look to Johnny, he nodded his head toward the door to grant him access.
Stepping into that room felt like entering an entirely new world. Light wooden floors that matched the light wood of the walls, which were decorated themselves with photographs upon photographs of couples and celebrities dancing and performing on the stage. The stage itself was beautiful, shining bright at the end of the room as the lights illuminated the band that was currently engrossed in some Elvis song that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The walls were all draped with velvety red curtains from the ceiling to the floor, accenting the dimly lit room, dance floor, stage and bar in color. Couples, friends, groups all mingled about, dining at the tables elevated at the back of the room, mingling along the walls, and dancing together in front of the stage.
“Of everything you’ve dragged me to these last few months,” you spoke up, voice rising to be heard over the music as the band switched songs, playing a cover of River Deep - Mountain High now. “This is the most 60s feeling thing yet.”
“And that, sweetheart, is why I saved it for a proper date,” Johnny appeared in front of you, your hand still clasped in his, as he tugged you forward. “Come on!”
Your laughter rang through the room as Johnny pulled you into the throws of people, finding an open spot among the crowd on the floor.
He spun you, that smile never dropping from his lips as you twirled in circles. Each twirl left you dizzy as the song played on in the background, the groups of people around you clapping along to the beat from the band. It was inevitable that you’d eventually stumble in the heels you weren’t accustomed to. Johnny’s arm was there, like you somehow knew it would be, curling around your waist. He dipped you, cheekily pretending as if it was all meant to happen, before spinning you back up onto your heels and pulling you into his chest.
“Come on, I can’t have you tripping and falling for me just yet,” he teased, hands holding yours as he spun you out once again just to pull you right back in.
“You try dancing in heels!” you shot back at him, earning a bright laugh from the man still dancing you around in circles. “We never danced like this at Tony’s parties.”
“I thought you said he threw a lot of those,”
“Yeah, but they were more stand around, drink, and talk parties than dancing,” you took a single glance around the room, at every woman being danced around by their friends and their partners. Swishing skirts, some almost touching the floor, loosely hanging from their bodies. “Not that the dresses I was forced to wear would've allowed for dancing. Too tight fitting–the one had a slit almost the entire way up my thigh.”
Johnny’s hand tugged you in at that moment, your chest flush against his. His lips skimmed over the edge of your ear, voice husky as he whispered into it just loudly enough for you to hear.
“I need you to not give me a mental image of your 21st century clothing while we’re in public, honey,”
A laugh bubbled from your throat as you pulled back to see him fully. The ways his eyes had darkened just slightly, the blue of his eyes almost completely overtaken, had your stomach doing a flip. But it wasn’t enough to stop the slightly sadistic smile that overtook your lips.
“Why? It’s so much fun, seeing you all worked up,” you let your fingers touch his jaw gently, nails dragging down the expanse of his neck and to the small bit of skin just barely visible along his collarbone, before you pushed away from him. “Come on, let’s get drinks!”
You could just barely hear his groan of “You’re going to be the death of me,” behind you as he followed you diligently through the crowd, his hand finding the small of your back within seconds so that you were never quite far from him.
Seated on one of the barstools, sipping gingerly at the drink Johnny had procured for you, it was impossible not to watch Johnny.
The way he animatedly retold a story about how they’d been invited to a fundraiser years ago in a dance hall, how he’d talked Ben into getting up onto the stage to dance. The way he so enthusiastically greeted those around the bar that did recognize him, as they slid in little comments about if you were the “mystery woman” that the papers had begun to pick up on over the last two months. He deflected them with ease, remembering many of those that said hello to him, asking such personal things about their families, their jobs, as if they were his best friends.
Your laughter spilled into your drink as the band played their own version of The Twist, and Johnny chose to demonstrate his moves directly in front of you. He smiled wide, eyes never leaving you, as he mouthed the words in your direction, following along with the dance every other person in the club was doing along with him.
“Johnny Storm: a superhero, an avid golfer, a lover of space, and now we can add dancer to that extensive list,” you teased, taking the final sip of your drink before leaving the empty glass on the counter behind you. “Do you frequent these dance halls a lot?”
“When I was a teenager I found my way here pretty often,” he answered easily as the song came to an end, the room cheering out and erupting in applause for the band. With one arm, he leaned against the counter beside you, looking up at you. “I wouldn't call myself a dancer, though. Just had enough practice to be semi-decent.”
“Practice, huh?” you questioned, just as the band started back up again. “How many girls have you taken dancing before?”
The band kicked back up, their next song already ready to go. You recognized it immediately: that same Frank Sinatra song that had played in the car through Long Island barely 24 hours prior. Johnny only smiled softly, standing out in front of you with his hand outstretched toward you.
“None. Promised myself that only one woman would ever have the pleasure of seeing me dance. Now, will you do me the honor?”
It wasn’t a line, not one of his usually charming, flirtatious lines. Not the way in which he said it: so genuinely, so vulnerably. You slipped your hand into his without a second thought.
Johnny guided you back out onto the dance floor, finding another open space among the couples around with ease. His arm slid around your waist, resting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that it really did feel so right, in a way you had never felt before.
His hand pressed firmly into your lower back, holding your body close to his. You could feel that unnatural heat that radiated off of his skin through the layers of clothing that adorned your body. One of your arms found its place around his shoulder, hand curled around the back of his neck and tangling just slightly with the hairs that laid there. Your other hand was clasped in his, taking in every bit of warmth that seeped from his palm into yours.
I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard for love to ever last.
“Can I ask you something?” you asked him quietly, nose just barely brushing along the edge of his jawline as you danced together, swayed back and forth across the floor with him.
“Anything,”
“You didn’t have to trust me that day in the park. You could’ve assumed I was a threat, taken me out. Instead, you took me in,” you closed your eyes, leaning in just slightly as your nose brushed over his jawline once again. “Then, you took it upon yourself to make me feel comfortable, to not let me feel alone in a universe that isn’t mine…why?”
“I mean, from the moment I saw you I thought you were pretty, but it was because I felt like I was looking at me,” Johnny’s answer was simple. No charm, no jokes, just the truth. “I saw myself for a moment, the me I was when we came home from space with powers. Confused, angry, terrified of what I had become. I didn’t know what to do. You looked so lost, so alone, and you continued to look that way every day. I didn’t…I didn’t want you to feel alone. I didn’t want you to feel like I did when I came home that day, when I felt like I had to lock myself away. It didn’t help that…I kind of fell for you along the way.”
Any hesitation in your heart, any thought in your brain still telling you that this was a terrible idea, that it could never work, melted away in that single second.
My heart should be well schooled ‘cause I've been fooled in the past. And still I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast.
“Can I ask you something?” he tacked on as your brain and heart still searched for a way to respond to him. All you could give him was a nod, one he could feel from where your skin touched his. “I’ve been flirting with you every day since we met. What made you finally say yes to a date?”
“Because I wasn’t saying yes to Jonathan Storm, the Human Torch, one of the four protectors of this Earth,” you told him simply, leaning back just slightly so that you could catch his gaze as you spoke, bodies still swaying back and forth to the swell of the violin. “I was saying yes to Johnny. The flame boy who decided to trust me. The guy that does the dumbest shit just to make his nephew laugh. The only one who’s made the pain of what I’ve lost lessen these last few months. I didn’t fall for all the bravado, or the charming lines, I just fell for him.”
Your confession was laid bare, as was his. He didn’t say a single word. Johnny simply smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head, before letting his eyes close and his forehead rest against yours. You followed suit, mirroring him, simply existing in the space within his arms.
My heart should be well schooled ‘cause I've been fooled in the past. And still I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast.
What felt like hours later, while also feeling like no time had passed at all, you found your hand clasped in Johnny’s once more. Roaming the streets of New York in the cool air of the night, a giddiness present in each of you that could only be compared to the feeling of pure childlike wonder and joy.
All you could think about was how right it felt, being with him. Having his hand in yours. Being in his arms. Universes separated you, but in this moment, you felt as if you had never belonged somewhere more than you did right now.
“Okay, okay,” Johnny forced out through his laughter, leaning into you as you turned another street corner, trying to find the next question to ask in the long line of questions you had been throwing back and forth. “Favorite fight that you had with the Avengers?”
“Oh god, I don’t know if I can answer that,” you responded easily with a laugh, shaking your head at the thought. “None of them were really fun, they all kind of left immense damage in their wake. One ended with me locked in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean for a short period of time, so, I guess that was fun.”
“That…that sounds like the opposite of fun,”
“Oh, it was. It sucked immensely,” he shoved his shoulder into yours for the comment. “Okay, my turn. Favorite memory with Reed?”
“When he asked me permission to marry Sue. I thought he was going to piss himself, I’ve never seen the man look so nervous,” Johnny laughed, tugging on your hand to bring you in closer to his side again. “Okay, how about your favorite thing you can do with your magic?”
Now that was a show instead of a tell question. Dropping his hand, you slid into the space in front of Johnny on the side walk, shuffling backwards against the pavement. He cocked an eyebrow as you shot him a tiny grin, before your hands at your sides began to glow in that familiar blue as your body lifted off of the grow by just a few feet, uncaring for anyone that could possibly see you in the area.
Johnny stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded as his wide eyes looked up at you. He sputtered for a moment, trying to find his words.
“Wait–you could fly this entire time, and you didn’t tell me?”
“You never asked!”
Johnny’s body ignited in flames, a sight you’d sparingly seen over your time in their world. From the chest down, every bit of him burned in those bright orange and red licks of fire as he, too, flew above the ground before you, back to being level with you once more.
“We could’ve been flying everywhere instead of driving!”
“Well, let’s just have some fun with it now,” you shot back with a wink, before propelling yourself upward. “Keep up, flame boy!”
The chill in the New York breeze was a familiar feeling, beating against your face as you propelled yourself up into the air, flying along the edge of the buildings. Johnny followed along right beside you, the heat of his flames fanning out over you and cancelling out the chill that night air brought with it.
His eyes never left yours as you spun around a corner of the building, propelling yourself further up into the air. You looked down, watching him with a smile as you hung there high above the buildings and the city of New York. Johnny joined you in seconds, hovering just in front of you. The clouds practically kissed your body, the city so far down below you both, leaving you alone together among the clouds.
You could see it, the glint in his eyes, the way they flickered down to your lips for just a second before glancing back up, pretending as if they’d never strayed away. He leaned in, and you let him for just a moment, before letting your body fall backward and freefall through the air back toward the city.
His laughter echoed through the sky as he flew down after you, following the sound of your own laughter. He saddled up to your side, flying down alongside you once again before you took a sudden turn, propelling yourself toward the rooftop of a building just barely in the distance.
Your feet touched down on the private rooftop moments later, magic dissipating from your fingertips as you landed, taking in a deep breath as the rush of flying left your body in one fell swoop. The rooftop garden you’d landed in was clearly one for a private residence, somewhere you probably shouldn’t have been, but you didn’t care. Not with the smell of the flowers invading your senses, the glint of the dim fairy lights strung around the roof bathing you in their light, and the view of the Baxter Building dead ahead.
Johnny’s feet touched the ground just moments after you, the sound of his shoes hitting the flooring alerting you. Spinning, he was standing just a few feet away, watching you with a little smile as he shook his head with laughter.
“You might be insane,”
“Sorry,” your giggles fell into the mix with his own laughter. “It’s been a minute since I’ve flown. I’ve missed it.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever flown with someone on a first date,” Johnny countered, taking just a few steps forward toward you. “Unless you count Shalla-Bal throwing me off her surfboard in space, but that wasn’t really a date.”
“Guess this was a first for both of us, then,”
You matched his steps, barely a few feet between the two of you now. Johnny didn’t make another step forward, though, didn’t close the space separating you.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, his foot tapped against the ground, and his hands clearly didn’t know what to do with themselves.
“What’s wrong?” you asked gently, even though you could practically see the nerves rolling off of him. He laughed, shaking his head as he glanced to the ground for just a moment, before back to you.
“I…I’m kind of nervous, if you can believe it,”
You hummed, taking the initiative to step up into his space, barely a few inches separating the two of you now. Your eyes never left him.
“Why? I thought the charming Johnny Storm had been on a bunch of first dates?” you teased.
He laughed breathily, eyes darting to your lips for just a second.
“Not ones that mattered…not like you do,”
You barely let him finish his sentence before you curled your hands around the back of his neck, tugging him down to you and slotting your lips against his.
It was short, but poured every bit of passion into it that swarmed through your heart and your head. Your lips moved against his just slightly, still testing the waters as the heat that coursed through his skin and into yours felt as if it was sinking straight down into your bones. Johnny’s lips were soft, supple, a shaky breath leaving his lips and fanning out over yours the second that they touched for the first time. Something in your head clicked at the feeling, something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, making you light-headed as your fingers just barely curled into the hair kissing the nape of his neck.
It was you that pulled away first. Barely a few inches away, the heat of his body still filling the air between you. His blue eyes bore down into your, wide and full of awe, lips slightly parted. A smile stretched across his face first, a matching once crawling across your own as you let your hands fully dive into his hair.
Johnny moved first, hands enveloping your waist and tugging you until your body was almost one with his, his mouth devouring yours in a kiss that had your knees almost crumbling to the ground.
Those heated hands swarmed your body desperate to touch every single expanse of you that they could in the way you were sure he’d thought about, in the way you never wanted to admit you sometimes dreamed about. Goosebumps crawled across your skin with every move of his hands, with every flex of his fingers and they pressed into you. His lips moved against yours like a starved man, slick with spit as your mouth opened to him, letting him invade every bit of you that you could, his tongue slipping just barely in and grazing over your bottom lip. A moan fell–from you or Johnny, neither of you knew–but the sound only spurred you both on.
His hands tightened their grip around your waist, holding him to you like a possession, one he couldn’t bear to lose. Claiming you. Your hand wound into his hair, tugging to elicit a groan from him, as you let your other trail down to rest over the patch of skin just barely visible under the single unbuttoned part of his shirt.
When your lips finally broke, soft pants filling the air between you, neither of you dared to look away. You couldn’t. It was like being in a trance, being pulled to the man in front of you almost magnetically. He leaned in, pressing a series of soft pecks against your lips, hands still flexing across your hips with each little peck that sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.
“This is crazy, right?” he muttered out between kisses. You hummed in response, matching each kiss of his with your own through your grin, hands still carding through his hair.
“What, falling for each other when we come from completely different universes?”
“Exactly that,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, before his forehead rested against yours. Those blue eyes bore down into yours, a soft smile over taking his kiss bitten lips again. “I don’t care much, though. Not when it just…feels so right.”
Your smile matched his in seconds as you leaned forward, stealing yet another kiss that flooded your body with warmth.
“Me too,”
Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so crazy: falling for someone universes away from you. Even universes away, maybe Johnny Storm was always meant to be yours, always meant to be the missing piece to your incomplete puzzle.
❤︎
Johnny Storm had been called many things over the years by the media. A playboy, a womanizer, noncommittal. They were all wrong.
He preferred the term hopeless romantic, especially when it came to you.
Especially in this exact moment, leaning against the doorway of his bedroom in the early hours of the afternoon to see you sprawled out, tangled in the covers that were halfway off his bed. You looked as if you belonged there, and in Johnny’s eyes, you did. There was nowhere else that you belonged than right by his side.
Crossing the room quietly, trying not to disturb you, he gently placed the glass of water he’d ventured into the kitchen for down on the bedside table. He got distracted, as he typically did, at the sight of the polaroids splayed out across the wooden table. Taking them gingerly in his hands, terrified to ruin them, the smile that crossed his face couldn’t be wiped away.
You wrapped in his arms along the Coney Island beach in the early hours of the morning. One of just you, sprawled out in his bed in nothing but one of his button downs that fell down to your thighs. You on the couch, Franklin curled into your lap as you read him a book. His favorite one, sneakily taken by Sue late one night, wrapped in his arms on the balcony of the Baxter Building, lips pressed together through smiles.
He loved you. Johnny loved you more than he ever believed he could love someone in life. Multiverse be damned, you were it for him. You were meant to be his and his alone, and he was hell bent on loving you to the fullest extent every single day that he could, knowing someone could come along and rip you away at any moment.
But the universe had given him a year. An entire year to love you in every way that he could, to prove to you that you were it for him. He thanked whatever being out there in the multiverse he needed to every single day for the time he’d been given with you.
Johnny crawled onto the bed, tugging the comforter down from around your shoulders so he could fully see you. His pillow was clutched between your arms, the space in which he usually occupied. His white t-shirt, bearing the 4 logo that you’d made fun of him for months ago, covered your body, falling to the middle of your bare thighs.
He leaned in with a smile, pressing kiss after kiss to the bare skin of your arms he could see, trailing down to leave heat filled kisses to the bare skin of your thighs. He’d barely left three there before he could hear your giggle, body flipping over onto your back so that you could look down on him with a raised eyebrow and a grin.
“You left me,” you teased with a fake little pout. “I had nothing to hold but a pillow.”
“I’m so sorry, princess,” Johnny mumbled through his smirk, pressing yet another kiss into your thighs. His hands traveled up the sides of your legs, pushing his t-shirt with them as his kisses trailed further up the expanse of your skin. “How could I ever make it up to you?”
“I-I don’t know…round three doesn’t sound that bad,”
Johnny hummed through his laughter, mumbling a quiet “I love you” into your skin. He knew you could hear it, though, he knew that you knew it.
He reveled in every little noise that left your lips, every puff of air that was on the cusp of being a moan as he lavished every inch of your skin in a kiss.
“Look, you’re both adults so I try not to tell you what to do, but it’s the middle of the afternoon and–JESUS CHRIST, JOHNNY!”
He’d never sprang away so fast, throwing himself so hard to the side of the bed that he fell straight off of it to the floor with a thud. Your laughter filled the room as he crawled back up the side of the bed, your hand covering your mouth to conceal your laughter and the comforter pulled back up your legs.
Johnny immediately shot a glare at his sister, standing in the doorway of his room with her eyes covered by her hand.
“Sue, you have no one to blame but yourself for this–”
“You could have closed the door! I don’t need to see you doing all of that, my god,” Sue shook her head, peaking between her fingers to finally see that there was nothing happening, before dropping her hand. “Reed wants you in the lab for a few more tests, okay, he promised those would be the last ones this week. Just…look decent and meet us down there, okay?”
She grumbled the entire way out of the room, muttering comments about scarring her for life.
Johnny only rolled his eyes, throwing himself back onto the bed to hover above you. Nothing could ruin his mood, not when you looked up at him like that, smile bright and eyes full of adoration.
“That’s the third time this month she’s done that,” you managed to speak through giggles, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “She’s going to kill us one of these days.”
Johnny only hummed, ignoring the comment. Instead, his fingers trailed down your neck, grasping the chain of the necklace that rested against your chest, a little charm of a Plumeria dangling off the end. His Christmas gift to you, one of the many you received as you were showered in them by his entire family. He pressed a kiss to the flower, looking up to you, only to see that same soft look in your eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered out, leaning in to capture your lips in his before you could speak back. He could feel you sigh into the feeling, your fingers dancing over his cheek lightly as you kissed him back just as softly.
“I love you, too,” you whispered back against his lips, before your hand rested on his chest with a little push. “But we’re going to go down to that lab because if we stay here another second, Sue is going to be walking in on a sight that she really doesn’t want to see.”
Johnny groaned, but relented. Falling back to his knees, his hands wound under the covers to your hips, pulling you up to your knees quickly on the bed. His mouth found yours in an instant, cementing another kiss there just for good measure.
“Round three after, right?”
It was your magic this time that pushed him, sending him tumbling back off the bed as your laughter rang out through the room.
“If you can behave, then maybe,”
Still clad in his t-shirt, having thrown on the old pair of ripped jeans you’d arrived in this universe in over a year ago, Johnny tucked you under his arm the second you stepped out of his bedroom, unable to go a second without touching you in any way shape or form. You never complained, even leaned into him as he pressed a kiss to your hairline.
“Lynne was able to get us reservations at that one restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for tonight, by the way,” he told you as you stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for Reed’s lab instantly. He grinned at the way your smile brightened, eyes turning to look up at him.
“Oh my god, that new one in Times Square?”
“That’s the one,” Johnny shot back. He let his arm fall from your shoulders, letting it wrap around your waist. His hand found the edge of his shirt, dipping beneath it so that his hand could press against the skin of your bare back. “Thinking maybe afterward we could go for a little fly around the city, sit down on the Brooklyn Bridge for a little while.”
Your hands cupped his cheeks almost instantly after he spoke, pulling him into a kiss. A feeling Johnny was sure he would never grow tired of, never get enough of.
“It’s a date,”
Stepping out into Reed’s lab, the entire team was gathered around. Reed was fussing over a machine, just as he normally was, with Sue trying desperately to calm him down. Ben was entertaining Franklin over on the couch, reading to him one of his favorite books.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Reed called out, ignoring the doting of Johnny’s sister as he waved you over frantically. “I just want to run a few more tests for this week. I changed some of the parameters, I just want to make sure that we have all of our bases covered.”
You gave Johnny’s hand a quick squeeze before crossing the room, sliding into the same chair you always sat in for Reed’s tests, presenting your arm for the usual blood draw. Reed was convinced that it was necessary to test your blood, to do weekly scans of your body, to ensure that there were no lasting effects on your from staying in the wrong universe for an extended period of time like you had.
Johnny joined Ben and Franklin over on the couch, leaning down to leave a little kiss on his little nephew’s forehead, one that left the boy smiling and giggling.
“Johnny,” Franklin was barely able to say his name, stumbling over most of the letters, but he heard him loud and clear. He ruffled the boy's hair with a laugh, kneeling down in front of the couch.
“Hey buddy,” Johnny glanced over at Ben, at the smirk on the man’s rocky mouth, and raised an eyebrow in question. “What?”
“Nothing, nothing. Love just looks good on you, kid,” Ben teased.
Johnny shot a look over his shoulder, straight toward you. Smiling in that chair, laughing at something Sue said, as Reed drew the blood from your arm with a practiced ease for his various tests.
“Nah, it’s just loving her,” Johnny glanced back at Ben, a hint of a sheepish grin on his lips as he shrugged. “I don’t know how to describe it, man. She’s just…I think she’s just it.”
Ben smiled, that knowing one that he always had, as his rocky hand came down to pat Johnny’s back.
“I think so too. You deserve this, matchstick. You were practically made for each other,”
Johnny agreed. He was trying to decide mentally if one year was too soon to officially make your last name Storm like he had promised months ago.
The quiet, the lightheartedness that filled the lab, couldn’t stay forever. Not when the alarms across the room began to blare.
Every head shot up at once, turning to look down the length of the lab to the computers where the alarm was blaring. Reed shot to his feet, taking a step in front of Sue as you ripped the needle from your arm in seconds to join them.
“Johnny-”
“On it!”
He’d practically sprinted halfway down the lab at that point, pulling up the alarm system at the designated workstation. That same map that had foreshadowed your arrival blinked on the screen, the same blip that showed your arrival in Gramercy Park blinking on the screen–right on the Baxter Building.
“It’s the same readings as when she got here,” Johnny called out down the lab, eyes frantically darting back and forth between you and Reed. “The blip, though, it’s right here on the building-”
There was sound from right beside him, startling him. Johnny whipped around, little sparks of yellow and gold flashing in the air beside him.
He instantly took steps back, shuffling backward and away from the growing sparks until his legs hit the back of the couch. Ben stood somewhere behind him, holding Franklin protectively in his arms. Reed held onto Sue across the room from where Johnny stood, keeping her at his side, as you stepped up in front of them: eyes glowing, magic dancing at your finger tips.
Until those sparks of energy grew, larger and larger, until they formed the makings of a small circle. Johnny could hear the second your breath caught, that glow in your eyes fading and the magic at your fingertips vanishing in seconds as you took another step forward.
“O-Oh my god…”
The sparking circle grew, almost the size of an entire person, before it stabilized, and out of what Johnny could only assume was a portal stepped a man. Older, tired, short hair and the remnants of cuts along his face. Body draped in elegant robes of purple and yellow he’d never seen before. His eyes darted around the room, before they landed on you, and he let out the loudest sigh Johnny had ever heard.
“Oh, thank god-”
“WONG!”
You’d practically flown across the room and into the man’s arms. Wong hadn’t wasted a second, hugging you back just as tightly as you cried, holding onto the man for dear life.
Johnny froze: Wong. He’d heard that name before. You talked about him all the time. The Sorcerer Supreme, the man you were supposed to wait for before you performed the spell that had landed you here in the first place. Johnny felt his heart break at the realization. He could feel the eyes of his sister on him from across the room.
His time had finally run out. Home had finally come to take you back from him.
“When I tell you that you aren’t to touch the Book of Vishanti without me, it is not a suggestion,” Wong scolded, hands clasping your shoulders as you violently wiped your tears across the room. “I already had to deal with Stephen breaking into the restricted section years ago, I do not want a repeat of that again. Do you know how difficult it is to find your energy signature through the vast multiverse?”
“I know, I know,” you nodded your head, before shaking it back and forth. “No performing any spells from an ancient book without your supervision. I got it.”
Wong nodded once, before his eyes finally glanced over the rest of the room. They settled on Reed and Sue, Ben and Franklin, and finally on Johnny.
“Do I need to worry about-”
“No, no, they’re friends. They’re practically family,” you assured the man, turning and gesturing out to the room. “This is the Fantastic Four. They’re essentially the Avengers of their universe…”
Your words trailed off as you finally met Johnny’s eyes again. He could see it, the moment that the realization seemed to settle in over you like it already had for him, and he thought his heart was going to break all over again.
From the corner of his eyes, he could see the glance that Wong sent between both you and him. A knowing one, one that spoke volumes without having to speak at all. He sighed, the sound ringing through the otherwise quiet lab, as he squeezed your shoulder.
“Five minutes,” Wong told you gently, his gaze drifting back to Johnny for just a minute. “There’s no telling if your time here has done any damage to the time streams. We need to get you home…I can give you five minutes.”
You only nodded, tearing your eyes away from Johnny. There was no arguing.
He knew this day would come, even if selfishly he wished it never would.
His eyes never left you as you crossed the room, practically flying into Sue’s arms. Johnny felt as if his head was under water. He could see your lips moved, Sue’s lips moving, but he couldn’t hear a word either of you said.
In his head, Johnny could guess what you were saying. A thank you for taking you in, for taking care of you, for all the times Sue had helped you dress for a date or taken you out into the city with her. He was sure Sue was thanking you for simply loving her little brother.
Reed pulled you into a tentative hug, short but still sweet. You didn’t exchange many words, but he could make out a “thank you” on his brother-in-law's lips.A thank you that simply encompassed everything, everything that he was sure Reed struggled to say.
Johnny saw your tears again when you stepped into Ben’s arms finally. A conversation that he was sure detailed the many early morning trips you’d made to Maisie’s together, or the late night talks that happened on the couch over drinks as some movie played on TV.
Franklin’s cries pierced the air, his hands making grabby motions toward you as he cried. You placed a single kiss to his head, walking away before you broke down.
Finally, you stood before him. Mascara running just slightly, tear stains littering your cheeks and down to your chin. You mustered the smallest of smiles that you could for him, albeit watery. Johnny tried to do the same, feeling the lump in his throat beginning to form.
“I thought I had three rules for you before you went home,” he managed to say, trying to swallow back the burning need to cry. You laughed, though the sound almost sounded like a sob, as you nodded your head.
“I’m leaving having accomplished two of those things. I guess that counts as a win,”
Johnny nodded, the beginnings of a sob almost bubbling out of his throat. Like two magnets pulled together, you fell into his arms. Head buried into his neck, Johnny’s one hand curled into your hair, tears slipping down his cheeks and soaking into the skin of the side of your head as your own tears soaked into his neck, your cries muffled by his skin.
“I love you,” he muttered into the side of your head, pressing kiss after kiss to your skin. “I don’t care. I love you. I love you more than anything.”
You pulled away, those red rimmed and watery eyes finding him, as you cupped his cheeks in your shaking hands.
“I love you too,” you whispered, stealing a kiss from his lips that took every bit of breath out of him. Your next words were whispered against his mouth. “This isn’t goodbye. I promise.”
Johnny managed a laugh, stealing another kiss as he gripped you as tightly as possible, hoping if he held on tight enough you wouldn’t slip away.
“What, you’re going to find a way to defy the multiverse to see me again? Abandon your home?”
“For you? Yeah,” you answer was short, meaningful, determined, definitive. Johnny believed every word. “I’ll see you again. And next time, I won’t have to leave. Because you’re my home, too.”
Johnny managed a smile, hoping it was as comforting as he wanted it to be, as he stole one last kiss. Not a goodbye, he wasn’t sure he could handle a goodbye. He wasn’t sure he could handle the idea of never seeing you again. This kiss was a promise. To what? He wasn’t sure. Maybe just a simple promise that he was yours.
“I’ll be counting the days,”
He couldn’t bear to look down at you again, afraid if he kissed you again he’d shove Wong back through that portal and find a way to hold you here forever. Johnny settled for a single kiss to your forehead, accented with the tears that were still running silently down his cheeks, before he let you go.
You slotted yourself back to Wong’s side, wiping at the tears that stained your cheeks. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and even Johnny could see how much it pained him to do this to you. He caught the slight flick of your hand, though, the slight burst of your magic, so small he wasn’t sure at first if he’d seen it correctly.
The room was silent as you and Wong stepped back through the glittering gold portal and onto the floor of the other side. Your eyes met his one last time, a watery smile crossing your lips, before it closed.
And in the blink of an eye, you were gone. Gone as if you’d never been there in the first place.
Franklin’s cries were still the only thing he could hear in the room, No one dared to speak, dared to break through the air, as Johnny’s eyes stayed locked on the last spot you had stood in.
“Johnny…”
He turned, tear filled eyes meeting with his family. The heartbroken look on Ben’s face, the conflicted look on Reed’s, and the absolute pity that shone through on Sue’s. She took a single step forward, but Johnny waved her off immediately, shaking his head as he wiped at his tears, forcing a smile.
“I-I’m fine. I just…I just need a minute,”
No one rushed after him, and he was thankful for it.
The entire elevator ride back up to his room was done in a daze, in a haze of emotions. His vision was blurry the entire time, but no more tears fell. He wasn’t sure he had more to cry.
Stepping into his room again, he felt like he could muster a few more tears. The bed was still unmade. The scent of your perfume, one you’d picked a few months ago with Sue, lingered in the air. Your clothes from the night before were strewn over a chair by his record player.
It was the only sign that you had, in fact, existed here in his universe. You weren’t a figment of his imagination.
Approaching his bed, wanting to bury himself in the lingering scent of you, his breath caught.
Lying there, on the unmade sheets, was a single flower. A single little Plumeria, remnants of blue magic dancing over and around its petals. Right below it? That same Polaroid Johnny loved so dearly.
He clutched it in his hands, willing himself to be back in the moment: holding you on the balcony that night, kissing you, telling you he loved you. As he did, your magic seeped across the bottom white edge of the photo, scrawling your handwriting across the bottom.
Unequivocally yours.
That, alone, was enough to bring a smile back to his lips.
Multiverse be damned: you were his. There was no one in this life or the next that Johnny Storm was convinced he could love more, just as there was no one that could love you the way he could.
In that moment, he knew for a fact he’d see you again. And next time, he was never letting you go.
I don’t think we talk enough about Jake’s reaction to Neteyam’s death. It might not be particularly expressive, but it’s no less devastating.
What gets me specifically is his shifting reaction throughout the whole scene. When Neteyam stops breathing, it seems like he is the first person truly internalizing it (I think it’s because he was the only one who understood the severity of his wound and that there was nothing they could do). We can see him pulling his hand away from Neteyam’s face, almost like he’s retreating, and we see him lower his head in pure despair and pain.
At this point, Neytiri hasn’t fully realized their son is dead. It takes her a moment. And when she finally does, when she starts despairing, Jake immediately embraces her. Desperately. He frantically tries to console her, hugging her, holding her arm, caressing her head when she embraces Neteyam’s dead body. It’s truly touching how comforting his wife was basically his first instinct, but I also believe he did it not only because he wanted to console her, but because he needed her. It’s not just Jake holding her, it’s Jake holding on to her. He doesn’t even allow himself to break down, he’s numb, just like he was with Tommy, but the only thing he does is reach out for Neytiri. It’s not just that he wants to be her rock, it’s that he needs her to be his. Because focusing on her is easier than focusing on his own pain.
But then, as Neytiri keeps crying, we can see that at one point Jake has stopped trying to calm her down. Now he’s just sitting there, his hand resting on his dead son’s arm, staring into the void in complete numbness. When Quaritch contacts him, he can barely hear him at first. It’s only once he finds out his daughters are being kept as hostages that he manages to snap back into reality. He goes back into soldier mode and pushes it all down. And from what we know about his arc in Fire&Ash, this soldier mode is the only way he has to cope, the place he retreats to in order to escape his own pain and deal with this unimaginable and shattering loss.
As immensely devastating this scene is, I greatly appreciate and admire the delicacy and the accuracy with which they managed to depict the different reactions someone can have to losing a loved one. The portrayal of Jake’s grief is deeply powerful and realistic, and I hate how a large portion of this fandom refuses to recognize his pain or acts like his reaction was not valid enough simply because he didn’t scream or cry.
I am officially taking Avatar requests again, you can request other fics but I am really leaning into the Avatar right now as I am losing my marbles with the new movie coming out soon
I am officially taking Avatar requests again, you can request other fics but I am really leaning into the Avatar right now as I am losing my marbles with the new movie coming out soon
