Yves

She/her, 18

[laenordeservedbetter]

Yves.

18, neurodivergent (ADHD), a woman of color, lover of all things sapphic, devoted ruegard shipper, and Clarisse La Rue enthusiast.

I write sometimes, then disappear. I’m on the bigger side and I know it sucks to read x reader fics that aren’t plus-size friendly. That’s why, in my writing, I always try my best not to do body descriptions or have the character I’m writing for carry reader (except if it’s a Clarisse fic. She’s a demigod. And we’ve seen her carry Percy, so...). Also, I know that people have different preferences on what they want to wear, so I tend to stay away from those descriptors most of the time as well. Reader just wears whatever they want in my fics, except if it’s a PJO one-shot (then they’d most likely be wearing camp shirts).

DMs are open so long as you’re not a creep.

—

Complete Masterlist

Rules for Requesting

[laenordeservedbetter]

touch her, you die.

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Nemesis)

Synopsis: The balance is disrupted as traitors overrun Camp Half-Blood. Your desire to restore order strengthens when Chris Rodriguez tries to kill your girlfriend.

Warnings: Death (Chris; but nothing too graphic), Chris slander, swearing, established relationship, serious to unserious and back again pipeline, not proofread because when do I ever? [Let me know if I missed any!]

A/N: Please don’t take this seriously. This is Chris hate. Actively. Chris did my girl so dirty in the last ep that I had to write this. For this oneshot, I tried to portray Nemesis as mythologically accurate as possible, not the Nemesis in Rick Riordan lore. Keep that in mind, please.

masterlist || previous work

—

You lurk in the shadows, scrutinizing the monsters attempting to break into your home. Ahead walked those who were assigned on patrol. The barrier was breaking. The pine tree is infested in rot, and so is the camp it was made to defend.

Camp Half-Blood could not handle a siege.

Luke Castellan’s army held twice the number of advocates. It would not be a fair fight. Bronte’s defense was growing weaker. Every time an arrow hits the enemy, the latter takes out two more demigods from your side. With the son of Poseidon away to complete a quest that was Clarisse’s by right, all signs point towards annihilation. You do not like those odds.

Balanced, is how everything should be. Those who attempt to disrupt the natural order should be punished.

You knew there were spies inside camp when your agency frayed. You were less controlled, often seeking out campers with hubris just so you could give what is due. Mr. D had advised you to stay in the Big House momentarily so you could “rest”, but you knew what he really meant was: you are trouble we cannot afford to have.

You had no cabin for yourself. Children of minor gods were often overlooked. As a claimed child of Nemesis, there was no designated place for you. Your mother was not built a refuge to house her children. You remained in the Hermes cabin—nothing to call your own.

A pity, really, that you weren’t considered an equal. It gnawed at you, driving you to the brink of madness. You wanted to be seen, for the Greeks to recognize your mother, yet there was nothing you could do except fight for the gods and hope they award you with validation. Joining Kronos wasn’t an option. Nemesis targets those who challenge the gods. You have no doubt that she would punish you if you so much as considered taking part in the rebellion. You would bring her disgrace instead of honor.

You were brought out of your stupor when Clarisse runs through the forest, dodging an arrow shot by Katie Gardner.

“Hold your fire!” Clarisse yells, the fleece tied up in a string on her shoulder. “It’s me.”

Clarisse, your girlfriend, was alive. You wanted to rush over and embrace her, but you kept hidden behind a tree. No one at camp knew of your relationship with the daughter of Ares. It was your idea to remain campmates inside the barrier. Both of you were building names for yourselves. You wanted to be known for your contribution, not for your unlikely pairing. Besides, if enemies caught wind of your relationship, they could use the other against you as leverage in battle.

Katie apologizes, but Clarisse brushes her off.

“You guys are my escort. Now we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” Clarisse says urgently.

Pretty boy Rodriguez, as you liked to call him, steps forward. “Clarisse, we’re all needed out here. Look, there’s monsters breaking through the border. The barrier’s about to fall and—”

“Not if we get this to Thalia’s tree.” Clarisse holds up the golden fleece that would save camp and you see Chris’s expression change.

Never trust a man with a buzz cut.

Although you wanted to intervene, now wasn’t the time. You needed proof. You can’t just say “He’s a traitor because he has a villain haircut and every time I see him, my stomach churns.”, despite how much you really want to.

Chris’s band of numbskulls (except Katie; she is better than them) grow silent. They let Clarisse lead the way.

You follow behind.

-

And you were right.

In a matter of seconds, Chris’s batch of traitors attacked those who were loyal to camp while the man in question stabbed Katie with a sword.

Anger swirls in your gut, your grip on your own blade tightening. Celestial bronze, a quarter of your height. Not too heavy in your palm, but firm enough to be wielded with ease. It was a gift from your mother a year ago. You had delivered justice to a pompous demigod. Nemesis was pleased, giving you a weapon in acknowledgment.

Equinox, you call it. It means equal night, bringing darkness to those who have an abundance of triumph at the expense of others.

Clarisse raises the tip of her spear at Chris, spotting you from a distance. She shakes her head subtly, as if saying “not yet”.

Your jaw clenches, yet you heed her instructions. Time was not paramount. You would wreak vengeance on Chris Rodriguez. Retribution is an inevitability, never a prospect. You don’t decide to seek revenge; it’s the universe that demands the balance.

“Luke always had my back. Just give me the fleece. I’ll tell him you died well.” Chris delivers haughtily, slamming his shield against the spear. He swings, but Clarisse dodges and manages to trip him with her own weapon.

The ache in your body eases, but it did not suffice to erase the trembling of your blade. Equinox waited for you to utilize it, matching your intensity.

Clarisse knocks down some of the traitors, but Chris slashes her heel. She runs despite the pain. Clarisse would complete her quest, of that you were certain.

“Cut her down and get the fleece!” Chris orders.

You slowly make your way to them.

Clarisse arrives at the track, jumping over the barrier.

Chris shoves her down, forcing her to let go of both the fleece and the spear. Clarisse attempts to use her dagger, but the son of—whoever the fuck his father was—presses his foot onto her palm. He sheathes his unspecialized sword that was not personally gifted to him like yours. His father did not care about him. He only had Luke. That’s why he’s so pathetic. When you don’t have anyone in your corner and have a shitty haircut, you may turn evil. Chris picks up Clarisse’s dagger and then the fleece. “Know what your mistake was? Thinking we were friends. Maybe you forgot you don’t have those.”

Your penchant for ferity aggrandized you, prompting you forward, Equinox raised. How dare he speak to her like this. Chris was the one who had no friends. He is a master of none, hiding behind someone else’s shadow for a fraction of glory.

“Oh yeah?” Clarisse shot back, looking smug.

A horse’s neigh drew your attention.

Annabeth was steering a chariot, Grover beside her. They were headed for Clarisse. Her friends.

Your expression softens into a smile. Whatever happened during the quest must have bonded them. Clarisse now had more people looking out for her. At that, you were delighted.

The knucklehead gets to his senses and bolts with the fleece, but he doesn’t get very far. Grover snatches the wool from him and Chris rolls over in the dirt.

Clarisse gets on the chariot, giving you the go signal to do whatever you wanted.

You wait for them to get away before stepping in front of Chris, looming over him like death. Raising your free hand, you summon darkness, casting over the track and its surrounding areas. Manipulating shadows was an ability you have yet to perfect. It leaves you weary, encasing you in sleep once finished. You required strength for the task ahead. Minimal use of your power was necessary.

“Go.” You say to his companions. They did not shed blood. Punishment was not yet required for them. “Leave him.”

They run away.

The darkness doesn’t ease. It was almost risible how easily he cowers under power. Chris Rodriguez’s soul was weak. He would break easily.

“Luke Castellan does not care about you.” That hurt more than any blade could have. Still, you raise Equinox to his throat. “You have no allies, no friends. Nobody to care if you died.” You cared not how you sounded. He hurt Clarisse. He is against the gods. He deserves what’s coming to him. “Do you yield?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You slash his shoulder, not maiming him. “For Clarisse.” His abdomen was next. “And for Katie.”

He does not fight back, the craven. You do not attack further. One cut for the demigods he injured. That was the price.

Equinox settled, no longer restless in your hand.

But then Chris lunges, picking his sword up from the ground and swings at your eye. The blade grazes the side of your head and the illusion of darkness shatters. A mechanism sets in place. You stop holding back.

Chris was given an opportunity to walk away with only two cuts. Now, he won’t go anywhere at all.

Weapons clash, blood drawn. Chris was an acceptable fighter, but he was no match for you. His sword is knocked out of his hand and for the last time, he is pushed back. You place your hand on his temple in an effort to bring the illusion to him instead of the area. Stumbling back, you use his body to keep you steady.

Chris cries out, whimpering. “No. No. Where am I? It’s too dark in here. Let me out! Please!”

It worked.

The relief, however, is short lived.

You lose your consciousness the next minute, crashing into the ground.

When you wake, you’re in a cot—the lifeless body of Chris Rodriguez beside you.

[laenordeservedbetter]

SO HIGHSCHOOL IS ME OMFG IM SO EXCITED

I’m picturing like typical clarisse tropes sunshine x grumpy etc

Maybe reader is like a ‘popular girl’ cheerleader etc (idk im not american 😭🙏) and clarisse is very like cold not thrilled to have left camp and joins a bunch of the sports teams to kinda make up for the physical stuff she loses not being at camp?

Eventually warms up to being there with help of reader and then slowly starts to realise reader can see through the mist like little things like understanding ancient greek/latin and then it like peaks when clarisse has to save reader from an attack or something and clarisse tries to like “oh that was such a crazy drunk person” make up some lame excuse and reader is like “are you crazy that was a ………” (insert absurd description for mythical creature here)

I have gone on such a rant im so sorry 😭

Ilsym 🩵🩵

I LOVE REQUESTS THAT ARE DETAILED OMG PLEASE DON’T APOLOGIZE!! I tried to follow the sequence as best I could. I honestly enjoyed writing the fic. The end was a bit meh, please forgive me. I have a research project due and I wanted to put the fic first (obviously), but my braincells were fried at the end. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the fic!!

[laenordeservedbetter]

Hey hey thank you for doing my other clarisse requests it was so good 🙏😭

I was wondering if you’d be able to think up something for a Clarisse x mortal reader?? Where she goes home to her mom for the first time in forever and goes to a mortal highschool and meets a girl??

Pretty please xoxo

Hi, anon!! It took me a while, but here it is! I hope you like it. Thank you for requesting 🖤

[laenordeservedbetter]

So High School

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Mortal!Reader

Synopsis: Clarisse goes back home for the first time in years and attends a normal high school where she meets you, the resident golden girl with strange visions.

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, jock x cheerleader, inaccurate school content (I do not live in the USA), r can see through the mist, mostly Clarisse centered, swearing, established relationship halfway through because I didn’t want to rush the love confession and Greek-gods-are-real-explanation while they were getting attacked.

masterlist || previous work

—

The halls of this mortal high school were no different than the grounds of Camp Half-Blood. Clarisse’s mother, Camille, heard of the ordeal with the quest for the golden fleece and had insisted that her daughter stay with her for a year. Of course, living in Arizona included the dreadful prospect of education. Sure, just shove her in a place where she sticks out and expect her not to be made fun of (she would absolutely demolish anyone who does)!

The stench of sweat and unwashed athletic gear hits her immediately upon entering the locker room. Last class of the day: PE. Some semblance of home, at last. It felt strange. Camp is her sanctuary. The place she’s staying in is her mother’s house, where she behaves as a guest instead of a daughter. Camille was gentle, sweet, and kind—as a mother should be, yet she does not understand that her daughter is more demigod than human.

Clarisse preferred war, identical to her father, Ares. She had no desire for the mundane life. No other joy could compare to fighting, whether it was with fellow campers or Luke’s crew. Clarisse longed for the adrenaline. Maybe it was just her ADHD talking, but she was made for greater things than sitting in lectures taught by people she doesn’t care about and learning names she couldn’t be bothered to memorize.

Why would she want to hear about white men and their “many” accomplishments? Put them in her world and they’d be Nemean Lion meat before they could even blink.

Back to the other aspect Clarisse knew they’d best them at (never mind that they are all dead), PE.

She makes her way to the field. Thank the gods the gym was being utilized for another purpose (something about an assembly for juniors) or else Clarisse would have flipped over the benches at the rowdy teenage boys pretending that they’re the best gift to the universe when in reality, they’re overdue for a shower.

Looking at her gym uniform, Clarisse almost misses the orange t-shirt in Camp Half-Blood. The shirt and shorts combo was bland, pathetic, and it doesn’t mean anything relevant. She thinks back to the Aphrodite kids, who’d have a lot to say about the outfit if they were here. Gods, she missed camp.

Clarisse could be terrorizing new arrivals if she were there. Instead, she was listening half-heartedly as the instructor told them about the rules of soccer. How difficult could it possibly be? All you have to do is kick the ball and see that it reaches the goal. The teacher was acting as though this was a life-or-death situation.

She drifts her attention to a group of cheerleaders nearby. The field was the biggest area in school, enough for two teams to work separately without intersecting. Leading them was a preppy girl that radiated sunshine out of her ass—or at least, her squad seems to think so. Clarisse rolls her eyes. Could this school be more stereotypical?

“La Rue!”

Clarisse jumps up to attention. All her classmates were looking at her. The coach was directly in her face and she had to restrain herself from pummeling him. “Yes, sir?” Firm voice. Confidence begets respect.

“You’re the goalkeeper.”

Of course, he didn’t think she could do anything remarkable.

“It’s an important task—”

Yeah, Mr. Clark is full of shit. He probably believes Clarisse is an inept rookie who can’t kick a ball. She was going to prove him wrong, one way or another.

“Got it.” Clarisse takes her position. She finds the cheerleader from earlier looking at her with a quizzical stare. The brown-eyed girl scowls and turns away. The last thing she needed was attention.

For the next thirty minutes, Clarisse conquers goalkeeping (naturally). None of the opposing team’s members make it past the goal, which seems to anger them. Ultimately, they decide that it’s a fruitless endeavor and move on to a new target: hit Clarisse.

“Sore losers.” Clarisse grins as the ball comes flying her way. She blocks it with her body without breaking a sweat. “That all you got?” She taunts.

Another soccer ball hits her head from behind by an aggrieved opponent who left the second half of the game due to Clarisse insulting him. He came back for vengeance, it seems. The impact makes a small thud sound, everyone stopping their movements. Mr. Clark, the incompetent instructor that he is, stands frozen.

Clarisse slowly turns around, her expression hardening. She should have kept her guard up instead of letting her cockiness overtake her. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what she would do next.

The boy—Jerome—stiffens, finding that he was wrong to target her. There was a nearly blaze-like quality to Clarisse’s eyes that made him take a step back. It was akin to a nuclear bomb ready to detonate in five seconds. Clarisse picks up the ball and Jerome barely has time to react before it comes barreling toward him. He ducks, the ball hitting someone from the cheerleading squad instead.

Whump!

The horde of teenage girls shriek, dispersing in all directions. Three set off to get a nurse from the clinic, another two to get an ice pack, one holding a towel to your bleeding nose, and the others? Well, they were yelling that someone decked their oh-so-great leader to the face.

“Y/n is hit!” One of the youngest wails, looking for the culprit.

Mr. Clark’s gym class collectively gaped at Clarisse in alarm. It was no secret that you were the crowd favorite—the pride and joy of the school. A crime against you was a crime against the social order itself.

“What have you done?” One of Clarisse’s teammates whisper.

“…Oops?”

-

In hindsight, all of this could have been avoided if Jerome didn’t have the response time of a cat, or if Mr. Clark didn’t put her on the goalkeeper position in the first place, or if Clarisse simply let it go (she wasn’t gonna let anyone mess with her, thank you very much).

Surprising Clarisse, Mr. Clark told her that she should stay away from soccer for a while, but also to try out for official school teams because she has “great potential”. Clarisse didn’t entirely hate his suggestion. Then, he said that she does need to apologize to clear the air. There was an unspoken conversation that if she was on your bad side, you could persuade the coaches not to consider her application entirely.

Chiron wouldn’t have made her do this.

But alas, this was a different setting and Clarisse was at the bottom of the food chain. If she wanted to get a semblance of camp in this school by joining sports teams, she would have to suck it up and say sorry.

That’s why she’s in the clinic, ignoring your squad’s colorful words aimed in her direction.

“Girls, please. I’m fine.” You insist.

The impact had knocked you unconscious for a solid twenty minutes. You had a vision of a curly-haired girl being tied by a cyclops, next to a guy with horns wearing a wedding dress. In the vision, the girl hurled insulting remarks at the cyclops, which made you laugh. For someone who was two times smaller than the beast, she sure had a sharp tongue.

Visions weren’t unusual for you. You’ve been getting them for as long as you remember. Most of them were centered on kids battling monsters from Greek mythology. Besides that, there were the occasional creatures roaming the streets of Arizona. However, when you ask those around you if they see them too, you receive a raised brow. You figured it was best to stay quiet. You didn’t want your cheerleading credibility to be overshadowed by the fact that you saw things that weren’t there.

When you woke up, the bleeding had stopped. The nurse told you that you could have a concussion, that you should take it easy, blah blah blah.

Your best spotter, Ashley, lets out a grunt of indignation. “Are you kidding me? She decked you in the face!”

“She?” You question. Automatically, the girls move aside, revealing the same girl from your vision. Your breath hitches. She was prettier up close. “Hi.” You whisper, taking her in. She had her gorgeous curls tied in a ponytail, her eyes reluctantly landing on you. Her gym shirt clung to her muscles and-

“Hey.” The girl mutters gruffly.

“It’s you.” From your dream. She was real.

The girl takes this as a question that she was the one who hurt you and she winces.

Using your captain’s voice, you command, “Girls, can you leave us alone, please?”

Your squad looks unhappy by the order. Still, they leave the room. Only you and the brown-eyed girl remained in the clinic.

“I’m sorr—”

“Were you tied up by a cyclops?”

For a moment, she doesn’t move. Maybe she was debating with herself whether she should run or not. Science says your brain can’t make up faces, so those you meet in your dreams are people you have seen before, if only in passing. Nonetheless, they were strange visions to have, no? Plus, you’re 99.9 percent certain that you have never seen her before.

“Excuse me?”

Were you truly concussed or was she uncomfortable? “Tied in a rope, next to a Satyr, in a cave, while a cyclops stood over you?” You prop yourself into a sitting position so you had a chance to escape in case she decided to smack something into your face again. You had to give the girl credit. If you were in her place, you’d be weirded out too.

“You’re concussed.” She concludes, “My name’s Clarisse. I was not kidnapped by a mythological monster and I don’t have a goat friend.” The girl—Clarisse—recites. She was definitely hiding something. Was she reading from a script?

Realizing you couldn’t get information out of the girl, you opt to choose another topic, “Clarisse. My name’s Y/n. Why did you slam a soccer ball into my face?”

“Some sore loser hit the back of my head during soccer. I planned to get my revenge, but the moron ducked and hit you instead.” Clarisse explains sheepishly, as if she was ashamed she hit the wrong target. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Don’t ruin my chances of getting into this school’s sports teams.”

Now, where’d she get that idea from?

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re this school’s ‘golden girl’ and from my experience, those people tend to hold a grudge. I know I would.”

“That’s not who I am.” You mumble, smiling, despite yourself. “And we’re friends now.”

Clarisse takes one good look at your expression and bolts out of the clinic.

-

“I didn’t come here to make friends.”

Clarisse chants the mantra over and over again. It has been a week since the incident and you have been insisting on being her friend ever since. Clearly, the concussion was more severe than she thought. Who in their right mind would try to befriend the person who humiliated and knocked them down?

Stares have greeted her more often, the news of her hitting the beloved cheer captain of the school has spread like Greek fire, but Clarisse didn’t let it deter her. Instead, she manipulated her newfound fame to build a name for herself in this high school. She tried out for volleyball and track, and got accepted by both. Clarisse is proving to everyone that she is invaluable. Although she may not be able to get into fights without consequences anymore, she refused to take shit from anyone.

“Psst.”

Clarisse glares as you pass her a note, having recently discovered that you shared three classes together.

You weren’t budging on the concept of being friends, regardless of Clarisse’s constant refusal. During classes that you share, you pass her deceitful little notes such as: “you’re so beautiful”, “which god decided you’d be this pretty haha”, “you’re really good at throwing things”, and more. You invite her to lunch whenever possible, which she declines.

She unfolds the note, showing a poor doodle of two girls holding hands. Beside it, a question: “friends?”.

The history teacher drags on about Greek Mythology. Clarisse folds the paper and puts it in her pocket. Best to ignore you.

Drawings of Greek gods and goddesses flash on the screen. When Clarisse sees Ares, she murmurs, “πατήρ”

You stop scribbling on your notes. “Father?” You clarify, angling your body to face her.

Clarisse observes you like you’ve grown a second head. “How do you understand ancient Greek?” She queries warily.

Shrugging, you face the projector screen showcasing Ares once more. “I just do.”

Could she possibly be….?

No, you aren’t a demigod.

But there is something peculiar about you Clarisse has yet to expose.

“You know, I think I’ll join you for lunch today.” Clarisse says, to which you respond by giving her the widest, stupidest grin known to man. “Idiot.” She adds.

-

You were beyond ecstatic that Clarisse agreed to join you for lunch. She could have possibly taken interest in your knowledge of ancient Greek and wanted to know more. You try to play it cool, locking your arms together as you make your way to the cafeteria.

Instantly, the crowd’s eyes follow you and your new companion. Clarisse stiffens and you squeeze her hand, “Don’t worry. They’re harmless.” You assure the girl, leading her to your table.

Your friends lowered their voices once they spotted Clarisse. They were unsettled by her presence, but knew better than to protest in front of you. A factor why the school adored you so much was because you cared not for conflict. Unless someone goes out of their way to harm you, you’re a nice person. Plus, if anyone messes with you, others will take revenge for you.

You didn’t want that for Clarisse, though.

Perhaps it was due to the dream you had when she knocked you down. It felt so vivid. The details were immaculate, as if you were truly there. Your gut tells you that you have to get to know this girl and that’s exactly what you plan on doing.

Moving aside, you gesture for Clarisse to sit, manners and all. You definitely weren’t planning to impress her or anything. No. That would be absurd.

“Thanks.” Clarisse makes space for you. She doesn’t tense at the close proximity. You smile at her, hearing her breath hitch.

It takes you a moment to realize you didn’t get food, laughing awkwardly at your empty table. Your friends blink in secondhand embarrassment, this being your debut submission for acting nervous around a jock. You wanted to escape the cafeteria right then and there. This is what you get for trying to make a good impression on the prettiest athlete you’ve ever seen. Good job!

“Come on, sunshine.” You feel a tug on your arm. Clarisse stands over you, making a head gesture for the food station. She waits until you’re on your feet, practically dragging you over to avoid the long line.

You would follow her anywhere.

-

Clarisse has known you for a semester and a half. During that time, you fell in love and started dating. She was the type of person to go after what she wants, not hide behind longing stares without saying a word.

You were the school’s favorite “it” couple. You and Clarisse fit together seamlessly, not knowing where one ends and the other begins. She was the jock, you were the cheerleader—a stereotypical high school romance, in theory, but you’ve begun to understand that you don’t mind being a cliché. The two of you are happy. That’s all that matters.

Loving a mortal means more liability. You couldn’t possibly understand her world, but Clarisse knows that you would. You weren’t a demigod, but you were special. You know ancient Greek, have visions of past and future events (she will tell Chiron when she gets back to camp, maybe even that imbecile Jackson), and you could see through the mist. Clarisse has to pretend that she doesn’t see the monsters too. It wasn’t the time to tell you. Not yet.

For the first time, Clarisse La Rue feels like her mother’s daughter instead of Ares’s. With you, she has the instinct to be gentle, to give you the treatment you deserve. You were the exception to every unspoken legislation she has enforced upon herself. She wants to cherish, not possess.

Clarisse has seen the way you publicly root for her, how you have a commanding presence yet maintain your soft heart, how your eyes light up when talking about the topics you’re passionate in—your dreams for college, plans for cheerleading competitions, Greek mythology (she shares what she knows and how to defeat certain monsters (allegedly)). She has never met anyone so sure.

Your girlfriend attends your cheer competitions with the confidence of someone who is proud to show you off. She used to hate crowds if they weren’t cheering her name. Now, she believes the stadium should chant yours louder.

During volleyball competitions, of course, you’d cheer for Clarisse using your best routines. As the game goes on, you’d yell her name in the stands, making it known to everyone that you were her best supporter.

Volleyball, track, and school had exigent demands on Clarisse’s body, but all of the rewards were worth it.

You enthused over her track outfit. Clarisse was representing the school in the javelin throw. Your girlfriend has never lost a fight in this category. There was an almost superhuman strength to the way she moved. Elegant, graceful, controlled. You love the way she grins before a game. Sure, there was the occasional scuffle. Clarisse was way too battle hungry for her own good. But if she wasn’t, then she wouldn’t be Clarisse.

“Kiss for good luck?” She prompted.

You lean in to give her a soft kiss. “Good luck.” You pat Clarisse’s cheek, the yells of her track team fading in the background. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I haven’t won yet.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I will.” Clarisse insists, always the need to prove herself.

She makes her way onto the grass.

When it’s Clarisse’s turn, she takes a steady breath and closes her eyes, focusing on your voice from the stands. Then, she takes off in a sprint, javelin raised high. Clarisse twists her hips, makes sure her right arm is holding the spear at a thirty-two-degree angle, and releases the weapon.

It lands the farthest.

Cheers erupt from the crowd, schoolmates jumping up and down, but in Clarisse’s vision, there was only you.

She runs towards the stands, engulfing you in a hug.

You squeal, planting kisses all over your girlfriend’s face. “You did so well, baby. I knew you’d do great! Oh, this is so- I’m so proud of you!”

Clarisse basks in your affection, grinning just as widely. She has never been happier, here, having you in your arms, and an incoming trophy (they still needed to announce the winners) declaring her in first place.

-

The winds shift as you make your way outside the stadium. Clouds darken, casting the city in darkness, save for the lights across buildings and streets. Clarisse tugs you closer, scanning the area. “Let’s get out of here.” She demands, crossing the parking lot to reach her mom’s car—another thing she learned how to do during the semester.

You don’t question her. There were instances wherein Clarisse would rush you home when you’re on a date. You once joked that she wanted to get rid of you quickly, but she was too preoccupied with looking in all directions for… something. Since then, you’ve learned to leave your girlfriend alone when she gets this way. There wasn’t anything overly concerning yet.

A screech booms overhead.

Clarisse intertwines your hand, leading you to the vehicle in long strides. “Get inside the car.” She opens the trunk and takes out a spear.

Holy shit.

“Clarisse, please don’t tell me that’s real.” You say shakily, staying in place.

She doesn’t respond and a bird—a giant bird with a woman’s head—swoops down, claws outstretched towards you. You raise your hands in time for her to claw at your arms. “AHH!” You cry out, eyes widening at the sight of your own blood.

“Get away from her, stinky!” Clarisse whacks the creature with the end of her spear. It was true. The woman-bird thing had a putrid odor that made you want to gag. She definitely needs to take a bath.

You wrack your brain for its name. Greek, definitely. Often sent by gods for punishment, stealing food, and carrying people to Tartarus.

“Harpy!” The creature shrieks, spreading its wings at the same time lightning crackles in the sky. You’ve seen monsters before, but none who tried to maim you. You slap your face twice and cry when you don’t disappear from the scene. “Nope! Not a dream. Oh god, I’m bleeding.”

Clarisse steps in front of the harpy, shielding you. You should be grateful. The stench lessened. All you felt, however, was worry for your girlfriend, who looked too calm. Obviously, she’d fought monsters before. You recall your first vision of Clarisse when she was in a cave with a cyclops and a satyr. She denied it when you asked, but you see things clearly now—or as clear a vision as you can get at the moment.

Was Clarisse a monster hunter?

When the harpy lunges, Clarisse steps aside, taking you with her. In once swift motion, she pierces the bird-woman’s throat with her blade. The harpy releases a high-pitched screech before disintegrating.

You attempt to catch your breath, finding the monster gone. You were still bleeding. Clarisse observes your wounds at the same time you do, tearing pieces off her shirt to wrap around your arms.

“That drunk woman really did a number on you, huh?” Clarisse quips, though you could hear the tremble in her voice.

“A drunk wo—” The audacity was astounding. You almost got ripped apart and Clarisse had the nerve to lie about what attacked you, just like she lied about your vision being fake. “ARE YOU INSANE? THAT WAS CLEARLY A HARPY!”

“No—”

You step closer, hoping to intimidate her enough. A couple weeks ago, Clarisse stated that your angry expression reminded her of a kitten when you fight, so it probably wasn’t working. Fortunately, Clarisse kept her comments to herself this time. Smart girl.

“You don’t get to lie to me, La Rue. I know you’re a monster hunter.”

You said it so confidently too.

Before you know it, Clarisse starts laughing. Full-blown, clutching her stomach, laughter.

You feel embarrassment creep up.

“Whoever sent the harpy to attack, please send it back to finish me off.” You pleaded in your thoughts.

When Clarisse regains her composure and witnesses your self-consciousness, her expression softens. “I’m not a monster hunter, sunshine.”

Please swallow me whole.

“I’m a demigod.”

Now, THAT, you didn’t see coming.

“Are you serious?” That explained a lot, actually. “Is Ares your father?”

Clarisse looks taken aback, straightening her posture at the mention of the god of war. Instinct, you guess. “How’d you know?”

“When Miss Cornwell talked about the Greek gods in class during your first week, you said ‘father’ in Greek when the slide switched to Ares.”

There wasn’t anything about Clarisse you failed to notice. You pay attention to everything she says because Clarisse doesn’t open up to just anyone. Her respect has to be earned before she decides to share her feelings with another. And even if she did refuse to associate herself with you (which is not your reality, thank the gods), you’d have kept paying attention anyway.

“You’re right. Ares is my father.”

“Cool…Cool…Is he gonna punish me now?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes, “No, you idiot. He’s got better things to do.”

“Nice.” You were starting to feel lightheaded, stumbling into Clarisse’s arms.

Clarisse catches you, dropping her spear. “Easy there.” She holds you in her strong, muscular arms, knowing that if you weren’t bleeding profusely, you’d be gushing about her biceps. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I’m just glad to know I’m not actually insane and that monsterzz are real.” You slur, your eyes drooping. “We’ll talk more when I…”

Clarisse hauls your body to the car, carefully setting you down on the backseat.

In a few minutes, Camille La Rue would be tending to your wounds while omitting that Chiron had sent a letter, requesting Clarisse back at camp.

[laenordeservedbetter]

HII!! Tw: sh. I saw your requests were open and honestly I just need more clarisse x self harming reader fics out there bc they help me avoid relapsing, so if you wouldn’t mind/if you are comfortable doing so, would you please do a clarisse la rue x reader fic where clarisse realizes that reader is struggling and confronts them and rejects their attempts to divert/downplay and takes her to Chiron or someone to get help? Please and thank you!

Let Down.

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm (no actual act written), feelings of emptiness and despair, mental health issues. Read at your own risk. If you are easily triggered, please do not interact. Your well-being comes first 🖤

A/N: Hello, anon. I apologize it took this long to get out. This is my most heavily-written fic personally since I too, struggled with self-harm in the past. Writing this piece brought about thoughts I had believed I buried. It does get better, I promise you. If you ever want to talk, my dms are open.

masterlist || previous work

---

You haven’t been yourself lately.

Clarisse noticed because she’d been watching—observing—how you’ve become more and more withdrawn. When you were together, you usually engaged in conversation, asking about her day or which campers she planned to torment. Now, you were barely there. Clarisse engages in conversation first, coaxing you to talk to her. You assure her that you’re doing well, that you were just having “one of those days”.

Reluctantly, she let it go.

Then, you’d started wearing long-sleeves.

It was the middle of summer, where the heat was blistering, skin turning sore the longer you stayed under the sun. Clarisse believed it to be peculiar. Either that was your preferred clothing or you were withholding sensitive information from her.

Your girlfriend knew about your struggles with self-harm in the past.

You told her you stopped.

“I’m getting better.”

And for a while, you were.

But those thoughts remained. Your body was slowly decaying; the only proof you were still alive—still here—was the pain. It’s all you ever knew. When your thoughts get the better of you, your control frays. Everything unravels. You are ashamed. You cover it up. Pretend everything’s fine. Repeat.

Clarisse, months after you started dating, sought the help of Chiron, sought books on her own accord in order to understand you better. She read about the signs: change in eating habits, wearing long sleeves, excessive exercise (you have been pushing yourself in training), and unstable emotions. It was with that in mind that she wished to discuss your self-inflicting tendencies without startling you.

She drove all her siblings away from her cabin so she could talk to you alone. Clarisse made you sit down, offered your favorite snacks (courtesy of the dryads), and sat with you in her bed. You were unsuspecting—Clarisse did that often enough for you to believe that your encounter today had no prior motivation.

You talked about camp, talked shit about Percy, and then came the questions. Subtle, at first. Then, it progressed into treacherous territories.

“What are you up to lately?”

“It’s hot outside. Do you wanna go for a swim?” – You couldn’t. She would see. If you wore clothing that covered up most of your body, there would be questions.

“How’s your sleep?”

“Are you alright?”

“Do you want to change into something else? It’s not sweater season anymore, you know.”

“Clarisse, what is this?” You place your plate down, subconsciously pulling your cardigan to cover your palms as well. She looks at you with an expression resembling sorrow. She knows, you realize. Your Clarisse places a hand on the bed, the other on top of yours. You wish to pull away. Not because you execrated her touch, but because of how delicately she held your heart.

You blemished the one thing she loved the most. You had let her down. She was going to loathe you for not being able to control your impulses, your mind screamed. Deep down, you knew it was lying. Clarisse would stay, even if your affliction chips away at her as well. You don’t want her to die with you.

“You can talk to me.” She assures you, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I want to help.”

Your defenses rise to the surface, “There’s nothing to help. I’m—”

“You’re not fine.” Clarisse says, firm. She doesn’t let go, though. “I know you’re going through something, but I can’t help if you won’t let me.”

“I don’t need your help!” You push her off. The air is suffocating. There was nowhere to go. Clarisse needs to see that. You have everything you could possibly want, but something is still wrong.

You can fight monsters all day, but this was a battle you feared you will not conquer. Perhaps there will always be this emptiness. What happens when you can no longer hold it back? Love does not suffice. It does not heal wounds. It’s an ephemeral remedy, similar to applied pressure on an open cut. When you let go, you will bleed out. After which comes death.

If you confront these sentiments, you will be forced to address the underlying significance of these issues. Names have power. You believe that if these issues are distinctly identified, then it would be held over you like a dark cloud.

So, you deny.

You back away to any corner of the room you can reach, your girlfriend’s words barely registering in your mind. She doesn’t understand. She won’t. You can’t control it. It hurts. She will leave. Clarisse will—

She takes you into her arms as you sink to the floor. Your chest aches from the tears and you jab at Clarisse, wanting to distance yourself from her. That only makes her hold you tighter.

“It’s okay.” Clarisse whispers, rocking you back and forth. “I’m not angry. You did nothing wrong. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” She kisses the top of your head and you feel your hair become damp. She was crying with you.

You did this.

“No.” Maybe your girlfriend could read your thoughts. “None of this is your fault. Do you hear me? I’m here. I’ll stay. Just talk to me.” Her voice breaks at the last word and your heart clenches. “Maybe not right now, but later. Is that okay?”

You nod.

You remain intertwined in the corner of the Ares cabin for an indefinite amount of time. Eventually, you tell Clarisse. Not everything. Just enough to ease the pain. The numbness lingered, but it was less loud.

Clarisse held you until you were done speaking.

“We need to get you help.” Clarisse repeats, squeezing your hands. “I know it’s difficult, but you can’t do this alone. There are those who are better equipped than me when it comes to these things. Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t stay, because I will. It means that maybe they can help you understand yourself more than I can.”

Her statement filters in. You could finally listen without instinctively blocking her out. You stayed dubious on the prospect of seeking aid, but you accept that the only way out is through. Skipping steps is not possible. It will not be an effortless feat. There will be troubles. In spite of that, you wish for the darkness to fade. To do that, you have to accept the assistance of the people you care about.

The two of you make your way to the Big House together. The sun pierces your gaze, making you scrunch your nose. It was sweltering indeed.

Your eyes meet with Clarisse’s and you allow yourself to breathe at last.

“Stay with me?”

“Always.”

[laenordeservedbetter]

Is there any chance we could get a clarisse x mortal reader where clarisse goes home for the year (which she rarely does) and meets a new mortal girl at school etc

Maybe discovers she can see through the mist or something that can bring her into clarisse’s world? 🙏😭

Hi, anon!! Thank you for the request and I’m currently working on it. Also, is there any specific dynamic you would like to see between reader and Clarisse?

[laenordeservedbetter]

The Way I Loved You

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Aphrodite)

Synopsis: You have been in love with the daughter of Ares for a year. When you arrive back in camp for the summer to surprise her, you find that her attentions are no longer on you. Instead, it is directed towards Chris Rodriguez. To get over Clarisse, you avoid her at all costs. What happens when she finally corners you and forces you to share the guilt gnawing at your stomach?

Warnings: Not actually unrequited love, reader thinking Clarisse doesn’t love her back, the pain of being in love with a “straight” girl, miscommunication-ish, reader tries to spar Chris and it doesn’t end well, kissing in the rain. [Let me know if I missed any.]

masterlist || previous work

---

Dark curls, brown eyes, a deadly stare—your best friend.

You haven’t seen Clarisse in almost a year. Whilst you left after Percy stopped the war between his father and Zeus, Clarisse stayed year-round. Camp is her home.

The burgeoning feelings for the daughter of Ares began last summer— the most specific timeline you can give. Why or how it happened, you could not divine. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. She was an Ares kid and you’re Aphrodite’s daughter. It was inevitable for one of you to fall for the other. Requited feelings, though, were not.

Wanting to surprise your friend with your return, you approach from behind.

The new camp leader, Tantalus, revived the chariot games. Your half-siblings were not inclined to participate and neither were you. There’s rough-housing involved in these activities. It would ruin your clothes, hair—everything. You intended to appear alluring, not just for yourself, but also for the pulchritudinous daughter of Ares.

Before you could reach the girl you’ve been hopelessly in love with for a year, she levels her gaze towards Chris, who was conversing with Percy beside the former’s chariot.

Clarisse pulls a lever in her own ride for spikes to appear. “Think you could jump this?” She asks him with arrogance.

“Don’t worry.” Chris replies, “You’ll never get close enough to find out.”

“You don’t think I can catch you?” Clarisse steps closer, swaying her hips as she walks towards him. “Because I can be very persistent when I mark my prey.”

Oh.

What you believed to be Clarisse being her usual haughty self was something else entirely. You may not be as well-versed in fighting as the other campers, but there was one thing you could recognize when it manifested in front of you.

Affection.

Your lungs become constricted by your ribcage, pressing into your heart. There was nothing except lancinating pain, circulating throughout your entire body without so much as a warning. You struggle to breathe, tears forming in your eyes.

“Y/n!” Annabeth calls, waving. You should be glad to see her, ask her updates on her and Percy (you know what she would reply). Instead, you clutch at your chest, desperately clawing for air. The daughter of Athena touches your arm, attempting to pull you back together. But it’s so, so wrong. Annabeth shouldn’t be touching you and Clarisse shouldn’t be looking at Chris instead of—

You recoil from Annabeth’s touch, pushing past her to escape the track.

One hour back at camp and everything was already falling apart.

-

For the next few days, you subject yourself to as much isolation as was socially acceptable.

Annabeth tries to check in on you, but you assure her that there’s nothing going on. It’s not like the girl you’re in love with turned out to be straight and has a crush on a guy! Of course—Annabeth doesn’t know that part. And she doesn’t need to. Your feelings were yours to handle.

Your siblings try to help, coaxing you out of the cabin to trade makeup products with the new campers. The most time you can get out of your bed is five minutes. Whenever Clarisse sees you outside, she makes it her mission to talk.

You never let her near, bolting out of the area before she could grab your arm and force you to speak. What was there to say? You’d confess that you’re in love with her and lose Clarisse anyway. This way, you can take as much time as you need getting over the Ares girl and come back to your friendship when you are ready.

At first, Clarisse thinks you’re just preoccupied. Monsters around the camp were increasing in numbers and you may be ill at ease. She knows how you get when you feel cornered or afraid. You curl into yourself and disappear. But after her seventh attempt of trying to reach you, she realizes you were avoiding her.

Clarisse was hurt. She thought back to the last time both of you stood face-to-face in camp. You left on good terms, kissing her cheek goodbye, saying that you’ll see her next summer. Throughout the year, you’ve written each other dozens of letters. Sometimes, when she’d successfully acquire a drachma from a weak Hermes or unclaimed kid, Clarisse uses it for an Iris message—to talk to you.

So, what did she do wrong?

Your smile, one she’d have given up everything to witness, was now subdued. You tensed around Chris Rodriguez, glaring daggers into the back of his head like he had wronged you, somehow. Annabeth, one of your closest friends, expressed her concern as well. Clarisse trusted that even though she wasn’t the one you confided in, you at least had the daughter of Athena. But you were pushing her away too.

Something was clearly wrong and Clarisse would not rest until she punched the daylights out of the demigod who wiped the radiance off your face. You were still beautiful, of course (Clarisse could not imagine ever not finding you enchanting), but you no longer beamed at imbecilic campers who you considered your friends or looked at her with those seraphic eyes, telling her that she was more than a bloodthirsty warrior.

Clarisse wanted to confess so many things—to tell you that she has ruined everything she ever touched, but she would not let any harm come to you. She was her father’s daughter. Perhaps it was in her blood to fall for a child of Aphrodite. But unlike him, she would be better. She would treat you like you deserved and vow to defend and stay by your side, so long as you allow her to.

She needed you to see that too, but you would not let her get close enough.

After a particularly grueling training session that you’d willingly subjected yourself to (much to Clarisse’s surprise), you ended up with bruises and a split lip. Your opponent, Chris Rodriguez, offered you a hand contritely, muttering about how you shouldn’t have pushed him to spar with you.

You bat his hand away, spotting Clarisse a few feet from you. Your legs move quick to get out of the arena, but your injuries slow you down. Clarisse was faster. This time, she doesn’t let you run away.

Clarisse grips your arm, forcing you to face her, “I’ve had enough. Talk. Now.”

You stare at her, dumbfounded. “What?”

“You have been ignoring me. Why?” Although she sounds angry, you could hear the tinge of hurt in her voice too. Clarisse La Rue wasn’t one for begging. She made things happen for herself. But, gods, she would do anything to have you looking at her with anything other than apathy.

“I’m not—”

“Do not lie to me, L/n.” Clarisse steps closer, loosening her grip on your arm. “Please.”

That word crumbles what’s left of your restraint. You were hurting her with the idea of saving yourself from heartbreak. Clarisse—hot-headed yet compassionate Clarisse—who prefers punching her feelings away than confronting vulnerability. That Clarisse was pleading for you to communicate.

Your throat constricts once more. It’s not Clarisse’s fault you couldn’t control your adoration. She’s being punished for your lack of abstemiousness. You take and take and take, always wanting more than you should. One touch from Clarisse and you wish for more. She trusts you, her only friend. And here you were, sullying her generosity with romantic feelings. You didn’t deserve her.

Running was at the forefront of your mind. The only thing stopping you was Clarisse’s hand on your arm. “Just let it go, Clarisse.” You ask her. If she does not, you don’t know what will happen. You’d rather have her as a friend than not at all.

“No!” Clarisse snaps, taking another step closer—enough for your pulse to quicken. “I have been trying to talk to you for days and you turned me away every time. Have I suddenly become so repulsive that you don’t want me near you?” She searches your eyes for answers you know she would find as soon as your equanimity fractures.

You meet her gaze, refusing to let her see your weakness. “No. That’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it? I’ve been trying to figure it out. I just want to talk to you, alright?!”

“We all want things we can’t have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” You brush her off again.

The skies above you darken, sensing the turbulence below Olympus. It would rain soon and the walk back to the cabins was a long one. If it starts pouring, Clarisse would still follow. You look for other ways of escape, but none that won’t end up with you faceplanted into dirt with Clarisse holding you down.

The daughter of Ares must sense your resignation, as she lets go of your arm. Her touch leaves indelible marks on you—fervid and scorching. You dare not look up at her.

“You know, I never once thought you a coward, Y/n, but clearly, I was wrong. You’re just like the rest of them. You’re pathetic.” When Clarisse is angry, she lets it lead her heart. It doesn’t matter if she tolerates you. If she is wounded by your actions, she will strike ten times worse.

A droplet falls on your arm, reminding you of the impending downpour. You stay rooted to your spot. “I am.” You confirm with a whisper.

“What?” Clarisse anticipated your comeback yet you corroborated her theory. The rain was pelting down upon the grounds, soaking your camp uniform. You struggle to hide the shiver that threatens to manifest itself.

Keeping Clarisse at arm’s length is just as bad as confessing. Either option ends the same: you will lose her.

But you could no longer omit your feelings. In order to move forward, you must let go of the invisible weight on your shoulders.

“I love you.” You confess. The droplets of water from the skies blended with your tears. “I have loved you since…” You lose your train of thought.

You perceived your feelings for Clarisse last summer, yet looking back at your actions all the years before, it seems like you’ve been in love with her longer than you realized.

“I thought we’d have more time—that I’d still get to have you and make you smile and— gods, it was so obvious. I’m ruining our friendship by having these stupid emotions. You’re in love with someone else—with Chris—and I don’t know if I can watch you choose him over me. I hate myself for it. I hate the thought of you looking at him like he’s the one person you can’t afford to lose. I hate that I’m not the reason you’re smiling. You’re my best friend and I never wanted for any of this to happen. I thought that keeping distance would erase my feelings, but it made things worse. You’re right. I am a coward. Because no matter how much it hurts, I still love you.”

Thunder boomed across the camp, making you flinch. A part of you hopes for Zeus to strike you down before Clarisse could deny your affections. You would not be able to bear it. Confessing was one thing. Dealing with rejection was another.

Clarisse looked more bewildered than mad. She has that expression on her face that she uses whenever a demigod says something stupid. “Chris? I’m in love with Chris?” She scoffs, crossing the remaining distance between you.

“Aren’t you?”

“No, you fucking idiot! Where did that even come from?!”

“You flirted with him! Before the chariot race. Even Percy was smiling! If that wasn’t-”

“I was teasing him because I knew his mechanisms couldn’t beat my chariot!” She yells back. “I could never be in love with anyone that’s not you!”

Another crackle of lightning.

Then, “What?”

“For a child of Aphrodite, you’re so dense when it comes to love. Have you not felt that I treat you better than anyone in this godsforsaken camp? During training, I always wait for you. In capture the flag, when you foolishly joined Annabeth, who made sure my team didn’t target you? I did! Don’t you get it? I love you too.” Clarisse’s eyes were glassy, almost blue in the darkness of the arena. Was she… crying?

Pathetically, you question, “You do?”

Instead of giving you an answer, Clarisse surges forward and claims your lips on her own. The kiss tastes of salt, blood, and rainwater combined. A strange combination, but neither of you cared. Clarisse La Rue was finally kissing you.

You never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss Clarisse, even though whatever you could have concocted could not have lived up to the real thing. You return the display of affection ardently, gripping the front of her Camp Half-Blood shirt, trying to merge her body with yours.

Clarisse rests her hands on your hips awkwardly, and you release a soft breath of laughter. She smiles, pulling away, and you notice for the first time that she’s shaking. You don’t have time to ask her if she’s okay. Clarisse captures your lips once again with more confidence than the previous kiss. The tension melts away, leaving only you and your brown-eyed girl.

Lightning strikes the ground beside you, too close for your liking. You force yourselves to pull away.

“We should probably seek shelter soon.” Clarisse suggests, unable to hide the beaming smile that was only reserved for you.

“Yeah.” You allow her to drag you away, running across the arena and into the nearest shelter.

You truly were your parents’ daughters.

[laenordeservedbetter]

IT WAS SO GOD, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE FIC.

And i loved the aproach, there's not much information about Heracles kids, only that they're brave, strong and more abilities (Google It if you want) but there's nothing about their temper.

But i love how you made It, because i really think that the others campist avoiding them because they mut became crazy is such a good thing, i loved It

Thank you so much, anon! I’m glad you loved it! 🖤

[laenordeservedbetter]

Darling, your touch burns.

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Heracles)

Synopsis: You comfort Clarisse after a failed quest.

Warnings: Parental and self expectations, Clarisse needs a hug and could be doing better, reader low-key has anger issues but is working through it, cheek kiss >>> [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: I accidentally deleted the draft with the ask included, but it was about Heracles daughter!Reader comforting Clarisse after a quest/bad training. Reader who's soft with Clarisse more than anyone in camp. I'm not quite familiar with Heracles kids/the cabin, so I just kinda based them off of Heracles himself and his fatal flaw (wrath). I'm so sorry if it isn't what you wanted, anon. I tried my best. Thank you so much for requesting!!

masterlist || previous work || requests: open

---

Glory often brought violence. For a hero, victory required sacrifice. There was always a price to pay when you’re a demigod—an even bigger one if you desire to follow in your godly parent’s footsteps.

A daughter of Heracles—powerful, benevolent, yet held an inferno within. When you love, you do so deeply, letting it consume you. When you or the object of your affections becomes aggrieved, however, all sense dissipates and only the crimson in your palms remains.

Frequently, fellow demigods would make passing remarks that you’d one day invoke the wrath of a god and be driven to madness, like your father. Hera amplified his hamartia and turned his own fury against him. That same rage lies within you. You try to quell it with gentleness, often the first to offer comfort to anyone who needed it as proof that you were more than your anger.

Clarisse came back to camp bruised and battered, refusing to provide the details of her quest. It was clear what had happened. The shame in her demeanor was a toxin, thickening the atmosphere until it drove the campers away. Everyone except you.

You clutch her hand in yours, leading her to your sanctuary. It was frowned upon for two campers to be alone inside a cabin, though you couldn’t care less. Clarisse needed your help. “Sit,” You instruct.

The Ares girl scowls as she follows your order. She watches you move about your cabin, grabbing gauze, antiseptics, bandages, and other supplies you might need. “I failed.” Clarisse states, “I don’t deserve being tended to.”

You shake your head, “Nonsense.”

Clarisse had been gone for two weeks, off on a quest by herself. She should have taken you with her so she wouldn’t have been alone. Clarisse was stubborn as she was prideful. Still, her “failure” to complete the quest will not justify turning her away, no matter what she believed.

“You’re too soft,” She grumbles as you clean her wounds, “You’re supposed to be strong. Like—”

“Like my father?”

The look you gave her was enough to shut her down.

Clarisse knew better than anyone what it was like to be reduced as nothing more than your father’s daughter. Despite her not wanting to project that onto you, words were not her strongest suit. To her surprise, your fist did not connect with her face. You were kinder than what people deserved.

“It’s okay. I get it,” You wrap gauze around her right hand, careful not to put too much pressure.

The curly-haired girl noted how you rarely held eye contact. You were precise in your movements, yet in your gaze held a glint of uncertainty. She observed how delicately you handled her injuries. Clarisse had seen you look after dozens of other demigods’ wounds (you gave the Apollo cabin a run for their money (even with their few members); they needed reinforcements which you were more than happy to provide), but none of them ever received the same treatment as her.

Clarisse’s pulse quickened the longer your touch settled on her skin. She doesn’t realize you’ve finished patching her up until you move to throw away the blood-stained materials.

“I’m proud of you.” You meet her eyes then, hoping to convey even a fraction of what you felt. Clarisse needed to know that she was still loved, even without her achievements. She was too hard on herself, setting the bar higher and higher. What she didn’t realize was that if she wasn’t careful, those expectations would poison her soul and kill her from the inside out. You couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.

You don’t know what she sees or if she understands where you’re coming from, but Clarisse’s lips quirk up in a small smile.

“Thanks,” She says once you return back to her. Then, she does what you least expect. Clarisse plants a soft kiss to your cheek before pulling back to watch your response— or lack thereof. “You’re the only one who is.” You forget to move and she laughs at your reaction, pulling herself off your bed. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Your cheek remains burning long after her departure.

[laenordeservedbetter]

Hello! I’m currently taking requests for Clarisse La Rue x Reader, so if anyone wants to request anything, go to my asks / submission box / whatever it’s called :)

Check out rules for requesting here.

[laenordeservedbetter]

The Ares Girl Who Stole Christmas

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Cabin not specified)

Synopsis: Clarisse learns to love tolerate the holiday season.

Warnings: Established relationship, grumpy x sunshine trope, they don’t celebrate Christmas, but reader loves the holidays, cheek kisses. [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: Advanced Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays!

not my photos. || masterlist || previous work

—

Clarisse loathed December.

Christmas spirit, holiday cheer, and whatever sappy bullshit humans commemorate to create a semblance of enchantment in their pathetic lives. Clarisse hated all of it.

You, on the other hand, basked in the joy. Sure, you didn’t celebrate Christmas, but the season of giving is one of your favorites. People were nicer this time of year, decorations lit up every street and at night, the cities would simply shine—everyone along with it.

Well...

Everyone except your beloved.

This holiday season, you decided to go back home, bringing Clarisse with you. It didn’t take much convincing. Her reasoning for tagging along was to “make sure nobody messes with you”, though you knew what she really meant was “I can’t stand being apart from my girlfriend”. However, that didn’t mean she was happy with the festivities.

Every time you put up an ornament or greeted a random person on the street, Clarisse scowled. She saw no point. To her, there was nothing special about this month. If it wasn’t celebrated at the end of the year, no one would care—she had said repeatedly.

You now call her “The Grinch” to her face and behind her back, which only enrages her further.

“Look, darling, a mistletoe.” You point at the ornament hanging above the mall’s entrance. You wanted to get some last-minute gifts for your friends (and maybe Clarisse too if you distracted her long enough). The mall was packed with families and individuals who were most likely in the same scenario.

Clarisse rolled her eyes, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.” She says as she brushes past you.

“Grinch.” You mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

-

Clarisse watched as you interacted with your friends, giving each of them their gifts. She sees how your eyes lit up when they opened the presents you so carefully chose. You were glowing, happy—the same look she sees whenever you look at her.

She could never quite grasp what made the holidays magical, despite it being celebrated primarily by humans and in cases such as this, demigods. However, by witnessing your merriment, Clarisse finally understood why people fought for absurd things in gift shops. It was to bring happiness to their loved ones and that, in itself, was beautiful... and disgustingly sentimental.

Hours pass, your friends leave, and you give Clarisse your gifts. Some of them she had seen (you bought them together), and others she was surprised to receive. These were things she’s only mentioned once or twice yet you remembered them, as if you had kept stock of everything she wanted and made it your quest to present it like an offering—a burning, pernicious devotion.

Leaving you alone for a moment, Clarisse fetches the gifts she bought for you. She placed it under the safety of the basement—a place you constantly refuse to step foot in. When she comes back, the first thing she places in your hand is a small box. The wrapping wasn’t great, she knew that. How could something as simple as wrapping have so many rules? The package was going to get ripped apart in five seconds, anyway.

But you opened the gift as gently as you held her hand. To you, she was something precious.

“I thought you hated gift giving,” You chuckle, unwrapping the packaging.

“I said I hated the holidays, not that.” She corrects sharply, masking the vulnerability beneath, even though she knew you’d be able to tell.

With a steady hand, you open the box. Inside, a necklace with a locket. Your breath hitches and Clarisse avoids your gaze.

In truth, she had given you that first because it was the smallest and as a precaution that if you didn’t want it, she could just throw the thing away and shove another present into your hands like nothing happened.

When you open the locket, you see a picture of Clarisse taken recently. She stared into the camera with a glower, which made you laugh.

“Stupid guy told me to smile.” Clarisse explains grudgingly, “I told him to just take the damn photo.” Clarisse didn’t understand what was so amusing that it made you grin like that, but she would give anything to see that look on your face again. “Next December, I won’t come with you, so that locket should be worn at all times.” The way she gave orders was similar to a drill sergeant. It was trademarked, at this point.

“Yes, ma’am.” You mock, turning around so she could place the jewelry on your neck.

Clarisse’s hands tenderly brushed aside your hair. She was holding her breath, believing that one wrong move would ruin the moment entirely. For someone who prided herself incessantly for being the best warrior at camp, her touch was soft and reverent. Clarisse was used to aggressiveness, but you, she vowed to never harm.

The necklace settles on your neck perfectly. You clutch the locket, smiling once more at your girlfriend’s serious expression, “I love it. Thank you.”

“You do?” Clarisse asks.

“Yes,” You say, kissing her cheek, “I do.”

Perhaps December isn’t so bad after all.

[laenordeservedbetter]

Take A Chance With Me

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Cabin not specified, but she’s not an Aphrodite kid), Platonic!Silena Beauregard x Clarisse La Rue, Platonic!Silena Beauregard x reader

Synopsis: Seeing her best friends unable to confess their feelings to each other, Silena takes matters into her own hands.

Warnings: Use of y/n. [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: Am I aware that Piper doesn’t appear until HOO and she doesn’t meet Silena? Yes. Do I care that this isn’t book accurate and that it’s nowhere near Valentine’s Day? No! Also, guys, come on. It’s the second PJO week already. More Clarisse fics, PLEASE. I’m gonna do a one-shot per week, in line with the show’s release. BUT AGAIN, MORE CLARISSE FICS. WRITERS, START WRITING.

masterlist || previous work

—

Everyone was sick of your and Clarisse’s bullshit, but especially Silena.

Her best friends liked each other. You and Clarisse, Percy and Annabeth. Though the second pair’s love confession was an inevitability, the former isn’t. You and Clarisse were both too emotionally constipated to ever admit anything.

So, Silena rounded her siblings and announced that it was time for a lovely chaos.

Valentine’s Day was coming up and the Aphrodite cabin was, to Clarisse’s interpretation, a nightmare.

The entirety of their cabin was adorned with pink, heart decorations. A giant “Blind Date: Meet Your Soulmate” banner was strung up above the entrance. Below it, there was a note that said: “Free for the first fifty pairs. Sign up now!”

The line grew as Clarisse’s patience shortened. All of her siblings (the ones not taken) signed up for it, leaving her with no sparring partner. The fields were empty as well. There were no new campers to terrorize and everyone was abuzz with exhilaration.

“Stupid. Blind. Date!” You found your friend—though you wish she was something more—kicking a training dummy. Clarisse stopped when she noticed you, her expression morphing into embarrassment. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” You say, walking over and picking up the dummy, “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Clarisse hated how hopeful she sounded.

“Yes,” You reply, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Silena wanted to know if you were interested in her booth.”

Clarisse scowls, walking away. “If this is her idea of a joke, it’s not funny.” Silena knew about her feelings for you and now she was suggesting going on a blind date with some random camper that could never replace you. Clarisse would rather let Jackson douse her in toilet water again than do that. She could never like someone else, not even if she tried (and she did, for a while, with Chris, but it didn’t work—surprise, surprise).

“She wasn’t joking!” You quickly caught up with the Ares girl, walking side-by-side across camp, “She said it would be good for you. And me.”

“What do you have to do with this?”

“Silena offered to make mine free if I went to the booth.”

Clarisse stops, “And you think that’s a good idea?”

Your brows furrowed, “Yeah?” You needed to get over your one-sided crush for Clarisse. The best way to do that was to find someone new, Silena said so. You wonder if that truly was the best advice she could give, but she’s an Aphrodite kid. If anyone knows about love, it has to be her, right? “I mean, I’m not exactly dating anybody. Silena said it would be my best bet.”

“Silena’s full of shit.” Clarisse can’t quell the sense of betrayal at her best friend’s actions. Silena was supposed to be on her side yet she suggested you go on a blind date despite knowing how Clarisse felt about you. She should have consulted the Ares girl first. That way, the latter wouldn’t feel a sense of foreboding at the idea that she was beginning to lose you. “Don’t go on that date.” Clarisse says abruptly.

“Why?” Give me one good reason not to and I’ll never go on a date again, you thought. The antes were raised above surface level. The only problem was: the other player didn’t know she was participating.

“I... Just don’t, okay?!”

Both of you ended up disheartened.

You walk away first.

You walk through the entrance of the Aphrodite cabin, the smell of expensive perfume and chocolates blending together to create an inviting atmosphere.

A group of the younger Aphrodite children beckons you over from the side.

“Blind date?” They ask eagerly, gesturing to the seat in front of them.

“Yes.” You answer, “So, how does this work?”

“We’re going to ask you a few questions and preferences, then we’ll select the perfect match for you. But first, we need to know your name.”

“Y/n L/n.”

“Ooh, yes! Silena told us to pay extra attention.” One of the girls says. Other campers in line grumble about favoritism and unfair advantage, so she adds, “But we always do! Each date is special! You won’t regret spending your drachma.”

The group quiets down. The children look back to you, “Let’s begin.”

Meanwhile, Clarisse was scouring the camp for Silena. There was no way she was gonna let enthusiastic Aphrodite kids ruin her chances with you. The former spots her “adversary” sitting on a bench near the lake with her boyfriend, Charles. Clarisse glowers, dragging Silena away.

“Ow! Clarisse, let me go!”

“Not until you tell me why you convinced Y/n to enter your stupid blind date booth.” Clarisse asserts.

Silena, much to Clarisse’s dismay, looked far too smug for someone who was ruining her so-called best-friend’s life. “It would be good for her.” She says, trying to yank her arm away. “You should try it.”

“No,” Clarisse snarls, “You’re going to get her out of that booth or so help me gods—”

“You want my help, you’re going to have to play by my rules.” The Aphrodite girl stares Clarisse down despite being a foot shorter. It would be comical if Ares’s daughter wasn’t five seconds away from throttling her.

“Fine. What do I need to do?”

---

After a brief chat about your type, the Aphrodite kids lead you to a secluded table in the corner. On it were two blindfolds and a voice changer. Your eyebrows raise in question upon seeing the latter.

“What’s this for?”

“A precaution,” Piper explains, “We have a voice changer in case your best match is someone you know. It’s best to start in the beginning.” – whatever that’s supposed to mean.

You take a seat and Piper puts the blindfold over your eyes. You start to feel on-edge, perturbed by the lack of sight.

“You’re okay.” Piper assures you, “We’ll be back with your partner shortly.”

You wait (not your strongest suit) for a couple minutes, anxiously bouncing your leg up and down. Does it usually take this long? What if they can’t find you a partner? Or worse—what if you and your partner don’t click? Even worse: what if it’s Clarisse?

No.

She wouldn’t be caught dead in a blind date booth. Besides, she doesn’t see you like that. She sees you as a friend, nothing more.

You hear the chair in front of you creak as your partner settles in.

“Alright, rules: Don’t say your name until it’s over. You get to know each other for five minutes. After which, you hold each other’s hands for two. If you wish to keep seeing each other after the seven minutes, one of our teams will assist you with date planning. If not, the two of you will be given new partners. If, at any point, you wish to stop, just tap the table twice and we’ll come get you. Any questions?” Piper asks.

“No.” You and your date say simultaneously, the voice changer coming into effect.

So it is someone you know.

“Five minutes starts now.” The brown-haired girl announces before walking off.

“So... what cabin are you in?” Your date questions.

You tell them your cabin. They hum, unsurprised. It was your turn to ask, “You?”

“Ares.”

Oh.

Maybe it’s one of Clarisse’s siblings. You assume that that won’t end well for everyone involved. Clarisse would skin them alive. Just yesterday, she shoved one of the campers for “looking at you funny”. You can’t imagine what she might do if one of her cabinmates took interest in you, which was unreasonable, seeing as the two of you weren’t anything.

The person in front of you clears their throat, “What do you like in a partner?”

“Physical or personality-wise?”

“Both.”

What did you like?

“Tall-ish, curly hair, eyes that melt into a pool of gold underneath the sun.” You found yourself saying, unknowingly stating Clarisse’s attributes. “But it doesn’t really matter. Personality’s more important. Like... strong, protective, and someone who’s sure about what they want. Someone who’s loyal.”

You hear their breath hitch, “Oh.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t have a preference for physical appearance,” They state, “I want someone who doesn’t treat me like I’m stupid or incapable of doing tasks—someone who understands that I can’t— I don’t know how to say things most of the time. I’m working on communication, but it’s difficult when everyone expects you to just punch everything out.”

Communication.

The word hit you like how the end of Clarisse’s spear did the one time you were on opposite teams during Capture The Flag. Communicating is what you should’ve done in the first place. You’re going into a date not being truthful. It wasn’t fair to your partner. You were using them to try to get over someone else. Clarisse didn’t know how you felt. Before you move on, you should at least tell her. You may regret not doing so.

With a sigh, you tap the table twice.

“Did I do something wrong?” Your date asks, almost wounded.

“No,” You say softly, “But I’m in love with someone else and you made me realize that communicating is what I should have done all along. You sound great, but she’s... she’s the one I want to spend this time with.” You move to take the blindfold off, but your partner stops you.

“Y/n.”

The voice changer was off.

That tone...

Your breath hitches.

“Clarisse?”

“I told Silena this was a bad idea.” Clarisse huffed, pushing the chair back.

You hear her footsteps retreat. Taking off your blindfold, you chase after her. “Clarisse, slow down!”

Clarisse makes it to the pavilion before you catch up to her. She whirls around, looking at you with a mixture of hope and longing.

“IloveyouandthatswhyIhijackedyourblinddate.” She mumbles in one breath.

“Huh?”

“I said I love you, okay?!”

That wasn’t what you expected, which said a lot about how oblivious you were to Clarisse’s feelings for you. All this time, you thought your crush was one-sided. When in reality, Clarisse was pining all the same.

Gods, both of you are idiots.

“Well? Say something!” Clarisse demands, crossing her arms, attempting to be defensive in lieu of being vulnerable.

Your gaze softens, “I meant what I said earlier. I love you. And I can’t believe it took us this long to admit our feelings to one another.” She laughs ruefully with you. “If you’ll let me, I would like to take you out on a proper date. Sure, it’ll still be inside camp, but I want to give us a try.”

For once, Ares’s daughter lets her guard down. Her shoulders relax and she regards you with a gaze that was more honest than anything she said these past months, letting go of her denial. She takes your hand in hers, “I want that too.” She says.

A few feet away, Silena Beauregard cheers, shaking the hands of her nearest siblings, claiming victory for a successful day at the booth.

[laenordeservedbetter]

A Game That Ends As Soon As She’s Gone

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Athena)

Synopsis: You’re gone, but traces of you still linger.

Warnings: Angst-ish, parental issues because it’s PJO, reader joins Luke and Kronos, haven’t written an x reader in a while so expect trash writing. [Let me know if I missed any.] oh, the title is from “The Gift” by Storefront Church.

masterlist || previous work

—

“Hey,” You called out to your girlfriend. It was chariot race day and, as always, Clarisse would be participating. You were rivals today, but that didn’t stop you from fixing her helmet.

Clarisse huffed as you adjusted the armor, “Don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you. I’m winning this thing.”

You met her gaze, unwavering. “I know,” You assured her.

Whenever Clarisse sets her mind on something, there was nothing stopping her. There were no friends in war—she told you weeks prior. Calling a competition “war”  was comical, seeing as no one aimed to kill, much to Clarisse’s dismay. She wanted glory, to prove to her father that she was worthy. You feared that one day, she’d get herself into a situation you can’t help her out of. She was capable, yes. The most fearless warrior you’ve ever known, but she was also just a girl wanting her father’s love. The desire to excel for even a glimpse of their godly parent often got demigods killed. You didn’t want that for Clarisse.

“You’re not getting on that thing, right?” She asked.

No.

And you never would.

You had disappointed your mother and would likely never earn her favor again.

Just a week ago, you refused Athena for the first time. The goddess wanted you to retrieve her statue. “An honor,” she called it, but you saw the task for what it was: a trap. No child of Athena ever made it out. For years, you had strived to be worthy of such recognition. If the duty had been presented to you when you were younger, you would have taken it.

So, why didn’t you?

One name, four letters: Luke.

He told you what would happen—showed you that this quest would kill you. If that happened, you wouldn’t see Clarisse for a long time. Although waiting was not your strongest suit, what truly convinced you to say no was knowing that your death would leave Clarisse a shell of the person she is. You know she’d survive without you, but would she truly live?

Athena called you a craven.

“I’m sorry.” Clarisse whispered, “I forgot that...”

You told her you denied the quest, but omitted the reason why. There was no need to tell Clarisse any of it. You’re together. That's all that matters.

“No, it’s okay.” You cupped her face, watching her lean into your touch like she was wont to do. “You’ll do great. I know it.”

Your girlfriend finally pulled away, giving you a cocky smirk, all traces of vulnerability gone, “Kiss for good luck?”

“You’re disgusting.” You said, yet you kissed her anyway. “You know I’m proud of you no matter what, right? You don’t need to prove yourself.”

Her expression faltered. No matter how many times you said it, Clarisse’s doubt prevailed. You’d just have to work harder until she finally believed it.

“I love you.” Pushing her into the carriage, you spot the way her features softened. Perhaps she was starting to believe you.

“I love you too.”

-

“Clarisse!” One of her siblings nudges her shoulder. Normally, she’d have told them off for even daring such a feat, but this day had her off-balance for all the wrong reasons. A year ago, you wished her luck for the last time. You weren’t dead, but you might as well be. She still didn’t understand how easily you left camp—how easily you left her. For Luke.

You joined whatever rebellion he has planned. When he fought Percy, you were there. You followed him into the portal, leaving a message for the son of Poseidon to relay.

“Tell Clarisse I’m sorry.”

Despite what your mom and half-siblings said, Clarisse never left your side. She was the first to defend your honor. However, since you left, there’s been a spiteful thought poisoning her mind.

They were right about you.

Only a coward would leave her girlfriend behind to fight an imprudent war she didn’t know the magnitude of.

“Yeah.” Clarisse finally responded, climbing up to the chariot. You were no longer there to wish her luck or to tell her that you were proud, even if she didn’t win. Maybe that’s one of the many lies you’ve told. She settles on her seat and a flash of your shadow appears in the corner. She whips her head around, frantically searching for you, only to find Annabeth, standing beside Percy. A twist of envy settles in, spiders weaving cobwebs around her heart. No matter where she went, your presence lingered.

Clarisse would see your siblings and remember you. That same spirit, the same stubborn look that she would kill to see again. She loathed you, yes, but she hated the part that longed for you still.

If you’d have asked her...

No.

She certainly never mattered to you, so you shouldn’t matter to her either.

You were the only person she entrusted her weakness with and you used that against her. You didn’t deserve a place by her side. She wanted you to rot in asphodel, never to be seen again.

So, with a grunt, Clarisse nudged the skeleton horses to move.

If she destroyed the Athena cabin’s chariot first, you would disappear from her mind.

Miles away, on the Princess Andromeda, you held Clarisse’s first spear, now repaired. You meant to give it to her before the annual chariot race as an offering. There was no use for it now. Hearing footsteps behind you, you hurriedly toss the weapon into the ocean. You turned to face Luke, who saw what you did, but did not dare to comment.

“You’ll make her see reason.”

“I doubt it.” You pushed past him, willing yourself not to look back.

You were meant for things greater than loving Ares’s favorite daughter.

[eli-evermore]

real asf holy shit thank you pinterest

[nasr-daher]

From Under the Rubble... I Write My Story 🌿

I never thought I would write these words… 😔

I never imagined waking up to endless screams,

Running barefoot through smoke and fire,

Searching for my mother among the rubble,

Only to find nothing but silence… a heavy silence telling me that no one will answer me anymore. 💔

In one moment, everything changed.

Our home became a memory, my mother’s embrace became the past,

And my father's face, now absent, is the last thing I hold in my memory.

They’re gone… and left my heart burdened with unspoken grief. 😢

But despite everything, we are still here… trying.

I survived with my younger siblings.

Yes, we survived… but who are we after survival?

Children without warmth, without a roof, with no place to return to.

We were displaced to an unknown place, carrying a bag empty of everything… except pain. 🥀

We slept in the open, waking every morning to a life that holds nothing for us,

But despite everything… we keep trying. 💪

I write to you today not to cry, but to ask for hope. 🌱

I ask you to be a small light in this vast darkness,

To extend a hand that can mend what the war has broken in us.

Your donation will give my siblings a chance to sleep safely,

It will provide us with food, shelter, and maybe even a new beginning. 💖

Help Naser & His Brothers Rebuild Their Future

My name is Naser AbuThaher , and my world has been shattered by war. I lost my beloved mother and sister in an attack that took them away fr

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #586 )✅️

Any amount, no matter how small, is big for us

It’s a prayer, it’s love, it’s life. 🌟

In conclusion...

From my heart, and from the hearts of my little siblings,

Thank you to everyone who has donated,

Thank you to everyone who has read,

Thank you to everyone who has shared.

You are the proof that goodness does not die, and that humanity has no boundaries. 💚

[nadinfamily]

"I am Nadine… an ordinary woman in an extraordinary place. A mother, just trying to protect a small life in a world that has lost its meaning." 🌸

Hello, My name is Nadine. I am a Palestinian mother to a little girl who has become the center of my life and the reason for my strength. 💖 We live today in harsh circumstances, unlike anything we knew life to be. Our home is no longer a home… we live in displacement, fear, lack of food, absence of medicine, and a lack of safety. 😔

Yet every morning, I open my eyes to my daughter's face, and I try again. 🌞 Because she is here, I must stay strong. 💪 Because she is small, I need to create a safe world for her… even though my world is broken.

We don't have much, but we hold on to each other. 🤝

I write these words to share a moment of our reality that you may not see in the news. I’m not seeking pity, nor do I want to burden anyone… All I ask is that my words reach a heart that knows compassion, and understands that help, even in the smallest form, can make a big difference in someone's life like ours. ✨

Life here doesn’t go as it should… but it goes on. We live on hope, the kindness of strangers, words of encouragement, and hands that reach out at the right time. 🌟 Maybe you can’t change everything, but you can change one day in our lives… And one day with dignity is all we need to keep fighting. 💫

Help Nadin Keep Her Life Stitched Together

My name is Nadin I’m a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza who are trying to hold on — to hope, to our families, to any piece

Even a kind word, sharing this post, or a sincere prayer… all of that makes a difference to us. 🙏

Thank you… from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for being here, for reading, for not turning a blind eye. To everyone who passed by here and left a kind mark: You are part of our strength. 🌷 From me and my little one: All my gratitude and all my prayers. 💖