Hi! My name's Lea. I see you've stumbled upon my tiny, queer little demigod corner of the internet! here's a masterlist of my fics, along with some rules.
Rules:
No smut for any of the characters because they are underage.
Triggering fics will be marked with a (*)
requests are open, DMs or asks are welcome <3
please be patient when it comes to the fics being written. your request may take longer than expected to be released, but please don't constantly ask for an update on it...
poly imagines are a NO. (bcause i cannot figure out how to write 'em.)
please be nice <3
feedback is definitely reccommended in any form! likes, reblogs, comments, anything!
18+/NSFW accounts are NOT allowed to interact here <3
summary she realises the mistake she made, but have you already slipped through her fingers?
fic type angst/fluff
pairing clarisse la rue x fem!hades!reader
word count 1k
warnings grovelling clarisse, angst, fluff
masterlist i wish i were special (pt.1)
For the next few weeks, she noticed you. You stood out in every crowd, even in your Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, even in the same clothes you wore every day, you stood out like a splash of red on a white canvas.
Gods, it killed her inside.
She replayed it in her headâthe way your eyes had emptied of all emotion. Those eyes which were the darkest brown, devoid of colour yet so vivid with feeling, had simply become flat. She thought of how your face fell when she told you that glory mattered more than you did. How could she ever say that? How did it even cross her mind?
How could she give in to the heartlessness of her godly parent so easily?
Glory was transient. It was finite, it wasn't permanent. It was the way youth vanishes from one's body, the way buildings crumble with time, and the way swords dull with use.
You were intransient, a constant, infinite. You were the intransience of the sea, the permanence of the sun rising in the east, the infinite expanse of the universe. You weren't glory, you were love, you were kindness, you were everything.
When did that change?
She sat in the amphitheatre, talking to her friends. Their chatter faded to the background, everything vanished for her as her eyes landed on youâsitting alone with your eyes trained on nothing in particular. She felt her annoyance increase as she saw a group of people right beside you, forming such a close knit that they physically barred you from inclusion.
Why did you slip from her priority?
She wanted to stand and march over to you, throw an arm over your shoulder and talk to you the whole night. She wanted to hold your hand and listen to your eager voice as you explained something new to her. She wanted you.
Your shoulders were slumpedâwere they always like that? You didn't move, you simply observedâwas that normal for you? She hated herself for not knowing. She hated that she had neglected you for so long, so blinded by her thirst for glory, that she never saw how truly lonely you were.
To be lonely is to be in a crowded room with no one to talk to, but to be alone is to not be in a crowded room at all.
She was about to move to sit beside you, warring against her internal conflict between two choicesâleave you be because of shame, or leave you be because she couldn't move with the dept of her regret. She had only just turned around to stand when another girl sat beside you.
She told you that glory mattered more, why did it hurt when she saw she wasn't the one beside you?
Her heart achedâno, it burned when she saw your eyes light up. She used to make you look like that. You only used to look at her that wayâas if she was the moon and you were an astronomer, ever in love with her.
Jealousy. An ugly emotion which didn't want to be felt, but demanded to be.
The girl said something, you laughed. Your eyes scrunched up, you clutched your stomach, entire body alive with mirth. How could you express so easily? How could you express with your whole body?
Why did she call you names? You deserved better. Gods, you deserved the world. You deserved to be looked at like you were a masterpiece, and the artist was marvelling at their work.
She hated it. She hated how her guilt, regret, and pain clawed at her from inside. She hated how she knew that no amount of screaming could ease this feeling. She hated how it was constant. A constant which reminded her of her blunder.
She turned away, unable to bear the sight of you talking animatedly to that girl. You always used your hands to speak, you spoke with your whole body, your eyes conveyed every emotion so clearly that you were an open book.
An open book that few tried to read. An open book that kept being shut and put in the corner of the bookshelfâforgotten.
Days bled into weeks, weeks into a month. That girl, who Clarisse found out was a child of Hecate by the name Zara, had gotten far closer to you than Clarisse would've liked.
Where she once had your time in the training grounds, Zara was thereâshowing you how to use her bow and arrow. Where once you both sat at the bonfire with your head on Clarisse's shoulder, Zara was there, resting her head atop yours as you talked.
Where Clarisse once loved you, Zara seemed to do it better.
All this pain, all this hurt, all this ugly, horrid jealousy, because she simply couldn't get out of the haze of glory she was in.
'You said I was special,' your words rang in her ears as she stabbed the dummy again and again.
You were so very special. You were the one thing that kept her from becoming the rage-filled monster that everyone thought she was. You were the calm that helped her crazy, the water that put out the fire of constant anger within her.
You were special.
Nobody had held her the way you did, nobody spoke to her the way you did. Nobody even so much as looked at her the way you didâwith pure love and adoration.
Glory, glory, glory-- A persistent chant in her mind that she had used to try and quell her thoughts about you. A mantra that she repeated to try and get you out of her head.
She found herself approaching you one evening, as Zara had left you be to turn in for bed.
"Y/nâ" She began, but the words caught in her throat.
Your eyes did it again. They lit up for a fraction of a second, but immediately dulled at the sight of her.
She was the reason why that happened. Her cutting words and insults and thirst for glory had consumed whatever little happiness she used to offer you.
"What do you want, Clarisse?" You asked, annoyed. You didn't want to see her, you hated how she made you feel now.
Or did you?
"Please, let me--"
"No, I won't!"
She recoiled. She deserved that.
"I just want a moment of your time, please, Y/n," she pleaded.
"Fine," you conceded. "I'm giving you a minute."
She breathed deeply, and exhaled to prepare herself.
War begging for death's forgiveness. An ever-present trope.
"I have been...thinking for the last few weeks," she said. "I--I realise how shitty I was to you, when you were nothing but patient, kind, and loving. You stayed when I didn't, you waited even though I didn't give you the time of day, and I am so sorry because I didn't realise how much it meant to me, your time that is, when I didn't have it.
"You are an amazing person, Y/n. And gods, you're so very special to me," she said, holding back tears.
"Didn't seem like it when you called me clingy and attention-seeking," you deadpanned. Part of you wanted to forgive her there, but the sensible side told you to wait till she completed.
"I know," she said, fisting her hands in her hair. "I know I havenât been doing the things I committed to you, but I know now that glory isnât everything. Itâs taken me time to realise it, and in that time I lost you.
âYou donât have to forgive me, Y/n, butâbut I swear on the river Styx that I will never, ever make you not feel special. Because gods, Y/n, youâre so so special to me, youâre everything, and I onlyâI only realised it when I became nothing to you,â
You contemplated. You thought. Clarisseâs heart fellâit felt like rejection.
But oh how her heart soared when you wrapped your arms around her neck to bring her into a loving hug.
âYou never were nothing to me,â you whispered, pulling back to wipe away her tears which she never realised were falling steadily from her eyes.
How had she fumbled this? How had she prioritised a flag on a stick over those beautiful brown eyes of yours? Over you?
She smiled, her heart fluttering and racing so much that she feared she may drop dead of a heart attack.
âLetâs start over, hm?â You asked, smiling.
There it was. The smile. The smile that made the corners of your eyes crinkle and made your dark irises sparkle even in the darkness of the evening.
The smile she knew was reserved for her.
âLetâs start over,â
She vowed never to make you not feel special again.
Because you were oh so special to her.
Hi! Itâs me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3
summary she realises the mistake she made, but have you already slipped through her fingers?
fic type angst/fluff
pairing clarisse la rue x fem!hades!reader
word count 1k
warnings grovelling clarisse, angst, fluff
masterlist i wish i were special (pt.1)
For the next few weeks, she noticed you. You stood out in every crowd, even in your Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, even in the same clothes you wore every day, you stood out like a splash of red on a white canvas.
Gods, it killed her inside.
She replayed it in her headâthe way your eyes had emptied of all emotion. Those eyes which were the darkest brown, devoid of colour yet so vivid with feeling, had simply become flat. She thought of how your face fell when she told you that glory mattered more than you did. How could she ever say that? How did it even cross her mind?
How could she give in to the heartlessness of her godly parent so easily?
Glory was transient. It was finite, it wasn't permanent. It was the way youth vanishes from one's body, the way buildings crumble with time, and the way swords dull with use.
You were intransient, a constant, infinite. You were the intransience of the sea, the permanence of the sun rising in the east, the infinite expanse of the universe. You weren't glory, you were love, you were kindness, you were everything.
When did that change?
She sat in the amphitheatre, talking to her friends. Their chatter faded to the background, everything vanished for her as her eyes landed on youâsitting alone with your eyes trained on nothing in particular. She felt her annoyance increase as she saw a group of people right beside you, forming such a close knit that they physically barred you from inclusion.
Why did you slip from her priority?
She wanted to stand and march over to you, throw an arm over your shoulder and talk to you the whole night. She wanted to hold your hand and listen to your eager voice as you explained something new to her. She wanted you.
Your shoulders were slumpedâwere they always like that? You didn't move, you simply observedâwas that normal for you? She hated herself for not knowing. She hated that she had neglected you for so long, so blinded by her thirst for glory, that she never saw how truly lonely you were.
To be lonely is to be in a crowded room with no one to talk to, but to be alone is to not be in a crowded room at all.
She was about to move to sit beside you, warring against her internal conflict between two choicesâleave you be because of shame, or leave you be because she couldn't move with the dept of her regret. She had only just turned around to stand when another girl sat beside you.
She told you that glory mattered more, why did it hurt when she saw she wasn't the one beside you?
Her heart achedâno, it burned when she saw your eyes light up. She used to make you look like that. You only used to look at her that wayâas if she was the moon and you were an astronomer, ever in love with her.
Jealousy. An ugly emotion which didn't want to be felt, but demanded to be.
The girl said something, you laughed. Your eyes scrunched up, you clutched your stomach, entire body alive with mirth. How could you express so easily? How could you express with your whole body?
Why did she call you names? You deserved better. Gods, you deserved the world. You deserved to be looked at like you were a masterpiece, and the artist was marvelling at their work.
She hated it. She hated how her guilt, regret, and pain clawed at her from inside. She hated how she knew that no amount of screaming could ease this feeling. She hated how it was constant. A constant which reminded her of her blunder.
She turned away, unable to bear the sight of you talking animatedly to that girl. You always used your hands to speak, you spoke with your whole body, your eyes conveyed every emotion so clearly that you were an open book.
An open book that few tried to read. An open book that kept being shut and put in the corner of the bookshelfâforgotten.
Days bled into weeks, weeks into a month. That girl, who Clarisse found out was a child of Hecate by the name Zara, had gotten far closer to you than Clarisse would've liked.
Where she once had your time in the training grounds, Zara was thereâshowing you how to use her bow and arrow. Where once you both sat at the bonfire with your head on Clarisse's shoulder, Zara was there, resting her head atop yours as you talked.
Where Clarisse once loved you, Zara seemed to do it better.
All this pain, all this hurt, all this ugly, horrid jealousy, because she simply couldn't get out of the haze of glory she was in.
'You said I was special,' your words rang in her ears as she stabbed the dummy again and again.
You were so very special. You were the one thing that kept her from becoming the rage-filled monster that everyone thought she was. You were the calm that helped her crazy, the water that put out the fire of constant anger within her.
You were special.
Nobody had held her the way you did, nobody spoke to her the way you did. Nobody even so much as looked at her the way you didâwith pure love and adoration.
Glory, glory, glory-- A persistent chant in her mind that she had used to try and quell her thoughts about you. A mantra that she repeated to try and get you out of her head.
She found herself approaching you one evening, as Zara had left you be to turn in for bed.
"Y/nâ" She began, but the words caught in her throat.
Your eyes did it again. They lit up for a fraction of a second, but immediately dulled at the sight of her.
She was the reason why that happened. Her cutting words and insults and thirst for glory had consumed whatever little happiness she used to offer you.
"What do you want, Clarisse?" You asked, annoyed. You didn't want to see her, you hated how she made you feel now.
Or did you?
"Please, let me--"
"No, I won't!"
She recoiled. She deserved that.
"I just want a moment of your time, please, Y/n," she pleaded.
"Fine," you conceded. "I'm giving you a minute."
She breathed deeply, and exhaled to prepare herself.
War begging for death's forgiveness. An ever-present trope.
"I have been...thinking for the last few weeks," she said. "I--I realise how shitty I was to you, when you were nothing but patient, kind, and loving. You stayed when I didn't, you waited even though I didn't give you the time of day, and I am so sorry because I didn't realise how much it meant to me, your time that is, when I didn't have it.
"You are an amazing person, Y/n. And gods, you're so very special to me," she said, holding back tears.
"Didn't seem like it when you called me clingy and attention-seeking," you deadpanned. Part of you wanted to forgive her there, but the sensible side told you to wait till she completed.
"I know," she said, fisting her hands in her hair. "I know I havenât been doing the things I committed to you, but I know now that glory isnât everything. Itâs taken me time to realise it, and in that time I lost you.
âYou donât have to forgive me, Y/n, butâbut I swear on the river Styx that I will never, ever make you not feel special. Because gods, Y/n, youâre so so special to me, youâre everything, and I onlyâI only realised it when I became nothing to you,â
You contemplated. You thought. Clarisseâs heart fellâit felt like rejection.
But oh how her heart soared when you wrapped your arms around her neck to bring her into a loving hug.
âYou never were nothing to me,â you whispered, pulling back to wipe away her tears which she never realised were falling steadily from her eyes.
How had she fumbled this? How had she prioritised a flag on a stick over those beautiful brown eyes of yours? Over you?
She smiled, her heart fluttering and racing so much that she feared she may drop dead of a heart attack.
âLetâs start over, hm?â You asked, smiling.
There it was. The smile. The smile that made the corners of your eyes crinkle and made your dark irises sparkle even in the darkness of the evening.
The smile she knew was reserved for her.
âLetâs start over,â
She vowed never to make you not feel special again.
Because you were oh so special to her.
Hi! Itâs me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3
warnings clarisse being mean, neglect, sadness, hurt, breakup, implied su!c!de
masterlist
That evening in the Hades cabin was lonely as per usual. You sat there, feeling stupid as you stared at the black candles flickering their orange light against the silver candleabra you had so painstakingly found out from the lost-and-found (ironically).
The dinner had been set, with Clarisse's favourite pasta with meat sauce, and two glasses of cranberry juice. All for her.
It had started with shying away from your touch in public, passing a comment here and there. But over time it got harder and harder to ignore.
Why didn't you do anything, Y/n? You might be thinking.
You just couldn't bring yourself to tell her she was being shitty, because more often than not she'd dedicate a win to you. With a speech, her lips on your skin, her hands on your body.
But ever since Percy came to camp, itâs always been about glory. Itâs always been about being one step ahead of that random little twelve year old who just had a bout of good luck (in Clarisseâs opinion) and killed a Minotaur on his first monster encounter?
It was obviously more than that, too, but it still hurt the same.
It hurt even more that you had planned this date all by yourself, when she knew what a problem attachment and intimacy was to you, and she just didnât show up.
You had poured your heart and soul into this, a way to show her how much you love her. A way to show her that you cared and werenât just some unemotional Hades kid like everyone else thought you were. You actually wanted to show that you were different from everyone, not just the girls, because your godly parent, for the last eight years, had dictated how people saw you. How they assumed you were.
You gave up after a while, and lay back in your bed, staring at the ceiling after blowing out the candles on the little desk you made a makeshift dinner table.
âWhat did I do wrong?â Was your only question. âWas she tired of me?â âAm I too much for her?â âIs it because Iâm a Hades kid?â
Little by little, you felt your heart break. Like a sculptorâs stone being chipped away bit by bit to make a painful masterpiece. You loathed having such a godly parent, you wished with all your might that things were different.
That maybe you were still special to her.
The next day, she came up to you with excitement. âY/n, baby guess whatââ
You didnât want to hear it. Your whole body screamed at you to leave that situation, to walk away, make her feel shitty the way she made you feel shitty.
But you just couldn't.
You thought it would mzke you too vengeful, thought it would potray you as petty. It was just a missed date, she could've been busy, she forgot to tell you.
Intentional or not, it still hurt.
"That's amazing," you smiled tightly, resisting the urge to slide out of her touch as she swung an arm across your shoulders.
You loved her, but why did her touch feel like it was knives dragging down your skin? Why did it feel like she was not your girlfriend, but an outsider? An outsider who was trying to touch you.
She was just a stranger wearing your lover's face.
Three days later, it happened again.
You sat at the campfire alone, feeling far too shy to talk to the other campers, noticing how they shuffled away from you or formed such close-knit groups that you were physically excluded as well. How they whispered and stopped when you came. You saw it all. It sucked.
But what sucked the most was Clarisse not saying a single thing against it. How she, too, stayed with her group, not bothering to include you in any way whatsoever.
Your mind raced. Did you do something wrong again? Why was she doing this?
You saw that unlike usual, she didn't come to you in the evening to stargaze or just talk. She was at the training grounds. Again.
You understood that the battlefield was her temple, her spear her idol, the battlecry her prayer, but you also wished that you were as special to her as you once were.
You were a battlefield, but just the aftermath. The battlefield when it was littered with bodies, blood clumping up the soil and the air hanging heavy with the stench of death.
But you wanted more. You wanted something different.
You wanted to be the battlefield she was so devoted to. You wanted to be the spear she was with every evening, you wanted to hear the loving prayers she whispered to her spear once she finished her training.
Was it the loving prayers you wanted or the sound of her voice in that sweet tone once again? The tone which held all the adoration the world of war could offer, all the gentleness a child of the fierce battle could provide.
You wished you were special.
"Clarisse, you wanna hang out this evening?" You asked her again the following night.
"Can't," she said after ushering her friends away. Atleast she still valued private conversation.
"Why not?"
"I'm busy,"
"Doing what?"
"Why do you need to know?"
The way she snapped that last sentence, it made something in your heart ache. She knew you hated it when she snapped at you. She knew that you did feel lonely.
She knew it all.
You stared at the ground and sighed softly, "I don't,"
"Exactly," she scoffed. "Stop being so clingy, Y/n."
Clingy? Were you...was this her actual thought? Every time she said she loved it when you spent time with her...was it a lie? A petty lie sold to the naive, lonely Hades kid?
"Sorry," you shrugged, "I'll stop asking," you punctuated your sentence by turning around and walking off.
Why didn't she call back for you?
Why didn't she run after you?
Why weren't you special?
The next week went by the same. She would say she'd show up, she wouldn't, you'd ask, you'd be insulted. Over and over and over again.
One night, after you had spent another evening alone, you took a deep breath in and tapped on her shoulder, stating firmly, "We need to talk, Clarisse."
She was shocked. Shocked by the fact that you used her full name. You never used her full name. Ever.
You felt your palms sweat, your mind race, and your whole body almost seize up with nerves.
"Look, I get that you want glory in the upcoming capture the flag, you want glory at camp, you want glory in some quest or the other," you firmly stated. "But is glory worth more than me?"
A small, amused smile spread over her lips. "Is someone jealous?"
"Don't fucking tease me," you snapped, having had enough. "I'm not jealous, I'm--I'm angry. I hate being angry, but I especially hate being angry at you."
"Me? What did I do?"
An incredulous laugh escaped your lips. "What did--what did you do? How about we focus on what you didn't do?"
"Didn't--? Get to the point!"
"So you don't remember the missed dates, forgotten evenings, times where I wanted to talk but you called me--" You inhaled deeply, keeping yourself from bursting into tears. "You called me clingy or annoying or attention-seeking. I have ignored your shitty treatment for far too long Clarisse!"
Your heart ached as you saw her deadpan expression, her emotionless gaze. You felt your throat close up. You were in the middle of the ocean, salt water filling your lungs, stealing the breath out of them.
"I think you're overthinking it," she shrugged.
The water vanished. Now all that remained was fire. A new fire that coursed through your normally cold veins, that made you see red. It took everything in you not to punch her in the face.
"Really? You said that I was special," you snarled, glaring at her. "You said you'll never leave me alone, you'll never make me believe the bad thoughts in my head, and now I see that it's exactly what you do!"
Her silence is what hurt the most. She wasn't denying it, she wasn't apologising.
"Clarisse, don't you know how I feel? When I try to talk to people, they turn their heads with an awkward smile. When I walk into a room, people stop talking or laughing. When I sit near people they shuffle away, and for what? Because my father is the god of the dead. I'm punished day and night for something that I can't fucking control.
"You were the one who got me. You made me feel wanted, you made me want to wake up and live to see another godsforsaken day! But now..." you looked at the ground. No, you glared at the ground. You couldn't see her face.
"I always emerge victorious in the end," she said, shoving her hands in her pockets.
Gods, you wanted those hands to hold you close and wipe your tears away.
You felt your heart break. "What?"
"I always emerge victorious in the end. Glory is what I live for," she said plainly.
Each word felt like a stab to the gut. Each word cut through you like a knife, like her spear tip cut through the training dummies in the arena.
"Glory matters more than me?" You whispered, looking up at her.
Clarisse felt her heart break at the look in your eyes.
You looked...hollow. Empty, a shell of a person. There was no twinkle in your eye, there wasn't the flash of laughter within them that she always saw. They didn't glow with an aura of love.
Empty. Like every child of the god of the dead would have seemed to be.
"Glory matters more than everything,"
"You said I was your everything,"
"Did you note the past tense, death girl?"
You didn't want to reply. You couldn't. You refused to talk to her after that sentence. Death girl?
If this is what love is, you didnât want it.
Why did glory matter more to her than you did? You probably would never find out.
You wished you were special.
And you would just have to keep on wishing.
Hi! Itâs me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3
dividers from this post of @cafekitsune, check out their account!
At this point, Clarisse had no clue how the hell she fell for you.
You relationship had started when she'd tried to intimidate you on your first day at camp, and instead of backing down under her fierce as death gaze, you had threatened her at literal knifepoint.
"I've stood up to bullies bigger than you," you'd snapped, your soft e/c blazing with fire as the tip of a dagger kissed the underside of her jaw. âSo back off, or Iâll make you regret it.â
While that earned you respect amongst everyone in camp, it earned you respect of every Ares cabin member, too.
Especially Clarisse la Rue.
The scariest girl in camp.
It had started off with her debating on whether or not she would be mean to you, making you her enemy, or befriending you.
She was strong, not stupid, so she chose the latter option.
Which brought you both here, today, three years later.
The spring season had started setting in, flowers were blooming, the sun was pleasant, wind wasn't scarce and it was cool. Sitting under the trees in the woods became a natural pastime for year-round campers like the two of you.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the surrounding trees, casting irregularly shaped shadows on the ground, turning them a deep green on the slightly prickly but comfortable grass.
Clarisse leaned her back against the big tree you both were sitting under, polishing her spearhead, with you in front of her, doing the same for your knives.
The daughter of Ares, while she'd never admit it aloud, was absolutely smitten when it came to you. In fact, this feeling had been lingering in her heart for some time, one which attracted her to you in a definitely non-platonic way.
So here she sat, listening to you talking. Your voice was the only thing she was focused on besides polishing her weapon. It stood out amongst the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees, the call of a distant bird, the lapping of the lake's water against the edge just past the clearing.
"So, I told Silena that Charlie's in love with her, not her actual dumb blonde of a sister, Sharon," you said, rubbing the polish on the cloth you had in hand, before continuing to polish your left-hand knife. "You know, for a child of Aphrodite, she is remarkably oblivious towards loving advances. Oh, and you know that girl, Kyra, from the Hephaestus cabin? My gods, she has been looking so fine--"
Clarisse stopped listening right then. She knew you were smitten with this girl from the Hephaestus cabin, and by every one of the ever-merciful gods of Olympus, she hated it. She hated how you talked about Kyra, how your eyes lit up when the muscled girl covered with grease so much it was an accessory would glance at you.
She tuned out and stared at you, not noticing the disdainful look on her face.
"Risse, you look like you just smelled a wild centaur," you laughed, putting the cloth down and sheathing your knives again.
Clarisse rolled her eyes and grumbled, "No, I don't like Kyra's vibe."
"Aww, jealous?"
"You wish,"
You were so oblivious. Not only were you unaware that Kyra was a playgirl, but you didnât notice that Clarisse was smitten with you to the point where it was embarrassing.
For starters she looked at you like you were the world. With adoration, awe, and wonder. She honestly couldnât stop thinking about you.
She hated how you didnât notice how her eyes lit up around you, how she was softer with you compared to others, how she let you paint her nails (mostly) without complaint.
You were just too oblivious.
Naturally, that evening, that same evening, she was at the Ares table, talking with her own siblings, while she watched you help Percy out with the rest of the campâs social structuresâsomething he hadnât quite figured out yet, even after having gone on a quest.
But the way her blood boiled, as if a furnace had lit up inside her heart, making fire course through her veins, when Kyra came up to you. She saw how flustered you got, saw the way your cheeks reddened when Kyra brushed a hair from your face.
By the gods and her fatherâs name she wanted to smack that Hephaestus girl into next weekâŚ
Meanwhile, you say with Kyra, enjoying the butterflies in your stomach when she touched you, laughed at your nervous ramblingâs. But the butterflies suddenly came into light as a warning. What was the likeliness that this affection would last? What was concrete in this interaction? Was it just a playful banter? Or something serious?
So many questions, not enough answers.
But one thing was for certain: Kyra wasnât the one for you. It took just one interaction for you to understand that.
To understand that Clarisse was right.
But before you could walk away, your hotheaded best friend, seething with anger, jealousy rolling off her in waves, came up to you both and âborrowedâ Kyra for a moment.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â Clarisse asked as she led a very surprised Kyra into the forest. âWhat exactly do you think youâre doing, playing with Y/nâs feelings like that?â
âCome on,â Kyra laughed, Nerva wearing off a little as her arrogance took over. âSheâs a girl, a smitten little girl, who knows she likes a little bit of muscle,â
âUnfortunately she doesnât know that thereâs a snake under that damned muscle,â
âJealous, Clarisse? Of course you are,â
âWhat that supposed to mean, punk?â
âYouâre so in love with Y/n, it shows. Everyone in camp can tell,â
âOh is that right? If you know that so well, then youâd better stay the fuck away from her,â
Kyraâs brows shot up. âIs that so? What if I donât? What if I take her to this very spot, and kiss her, maybe while you watch from the bushes over there?â
Clarisse felt her fists clench, felt her whole body tense up with an adrenaline that came out only during battle.
âWhat if I break your legs and punch that stupid face in?â She asked, eyes full of the familiar fire that only her opponents saw. âI donât think Y/n likes the taste of blood.â
She relished the look of panic on Kyraâs face. The trapped-animal stare, the darting irises, searching for a way out, analysing her moves in that second. The tense muscles, clenched jaw, closed fists. All of it was familiar to the child of war.
But how familiar was it to the child of the forge? Not much, probably.
âStay the fuck away from Y/n, and you and I wonât have any problems, Kyra,â Clarisse said, her voice soft. That made it more dangerous. It was soft like the gentle rain that preceded the flooding thunderstormâa warning.
Kyra nodded, knowing it was unwise to provoke Clarisse La Rue, especially over a girl everyone in camp knew not to mess with.
But it also meant that Clarisse figured out the depth of her love for you. That it was deeper than the vastest sea, stronger than the biggest tsunami, and more damaging than a hurricane. It was fiercer than fire, more powerful than a blow from her spear, and definitely more dangerous than war.
So sheâs decided to flush out her feelings. Get them out before things got worse because she couldnât possibly find a way to get out of the âphiliaâ situation she had going with you. She wanted âerosâ, wanted âludusâ, and she knew it.
Her catalyst was the mind, she wanted it to be the body., wanted it to be the heart. She wanted you in a way that friends never wanted each other. She wanted you the way Achilles wanted Patroclus, wanted you the way Romeo wanted Juliet, the way Orpheus wanted Eurydice.
She wanted you and only you.
But she could never have that.
So she decided the best way to manage her haywire heart was distance.
But by every one of the gods, big and small, was she wrong.
You found that Kyra didnât look in your direction ever again, and additionally, found Clarisse avoiding you with nearly psychotic fervour.
Three days. You tolerated it for three days.
Finally you stormed up to Clarisse when she was training. With a swift kick to the back of her knee, you sent her crashing to the ground, disarming her spear from her.
âWhat did you think you were doing, avoiding me like this?!â You seethed, knife at her throat. âWhat, was this your idea of punishing me for having Kyra flirt with me?â
Calmly, Clarisse moved you off her like one would brush away a particularly disgruntled cat, and stood up.
âLook, Iâm fine, I wasnât doing anything,â she shrugged, grabbing her spear.
You rolled your eyes. This girl was dumb, stupid, and an absolute useless person when it came to interacting with others.
âI donât think ignoring me for three straight days can be counted as ânot doing anythingâ!â You snapped, annoyed.
Clarisse flinched at your tone.
âWhy?!â You asked, following her around as she cleared up the arena. âWhy exactly have you been ignoring me, hm?â
She listened patiently to your incessant pestering, going about her business while you looked like you were about to blow a gasket with how mad you were since your hands began to move more animatedly, your frown deepening even more.
âWhy the hell did you say that nothingâs wrong when something clearly is?! Are you jealous? Is that it?! Why?!â You asked, expecting her not to reply the way she had been the last ten minutes.
Clarisse had had enough. She was taking the plunge into that deep dark sea, not sure if she was ready to face the monsters in it.
âBecause Iâm in love with you!â She said, turning around with a terrified look on her face. âIâm in love with you, and I didnât know what to do about it because you clearly donât love me back!â
You stood silent for a second too long. But she didnât run. She stayed there, waiting for your answer.
âYouâre in love with me?â You asked, baffled.
No butterflies, nothing fluttered in your stomach, your heart rate merely quickened and your body pulsed in every place with serotonin.
No butterflies meant this wasnât just a thing, a fling. It wasnât mindless flirting.
This was âludusâ, the love of intimacy, pure love.
âYes, Y/n, and it kills me every single day, hearing you ramble about Kyra, and you know what Iâm thinking when you talk about her like that?â She asked, tears ready to come out of her eyes. âI think that I could treat you like a queen, like youâre above Hera herself. I think that why would you love a playgirl who wonât give a single fuck about your feelings, when Iâm here already knowing what you want for breakfast every day of the week! I think that I could be better than her, that I am better than her, in every possible way, but youâre just blind! You donât see that I look at you like youâre the world because youâre so smitten with a girl who would toss you aside for the next blonde girl she sees!â
You listened to her carefully, taking in her words. In between, neither of you knew when, she had started crying. Small tears rolled down her bronze skin, tracing small pathways in their trail of sadness, of pain.
âIâm sorry,â you replied softly, stepping closer, putting a hand up to wipe her eyes. âIâm sorry that I was blind to how you feel about me, Iâm sorry for not noticing it sooner,â
âAnd Y/n, youâre my best friend, okay? I canâtâŚI know that we can never be together andâŚâ she stopped short when your hands went up to cup her cheeks.
âWhy is that?â
âPhilia, Y/n. Friendship love.â
âWho says it canât progress?â
âYou donât love me back,â
âI do,â
âFriendship love doesnât count here,â
âBold of you to assume Iâm talking about friendship,â
Clarisse froze.
âI love you too, Clarisse,â you said softly, looking at her in her eyes. âAnd Iâm not talking about âphiliaâ. Gods I love you the way Achilles loved Patroclus, the way Romeo loved Juliet, the way Orpheus loved Euridyce,â
âI thought that too,â she whispered, shocked. âHowâŚâ
âI know that because these three romances are the ones Iâve read to you,â you replied. âI know you, Clarisse. But I was too blind to see your love went past my mind and extended to my heart, my body, my soul. And Iâm sorry for being blind.â
âYou belong with me, not her,â
âDo you see me doubting that?â
She giggled softly. Clarisse La Rue, the most feared girl in camp, giggled like a little kid.
âItâs okay, I guess, you little dumbass,â she chuckled. âSoâŚwhat now?â
âI donât know, do we kiss?â You asked, confused. âYou know I have never kissed a girl before andââ
She silenced you with a finger to your lips.
âLetâsâŚtake it slow? Ease into it?â She asked. âCause I have never kissed a girl either,â
âBe my girlfriend, though?â
âYou thought Iâd say no?â
Hi! Itâs me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3
the only thing you looked forward to was having chances to see your little brother, who is fighting his own battle and having to face it without you. you hated leaving. but with two powerful demigods in one house- you would have gotten him killed.
a part of him never forgave you and you could understand. the one job you had was to be there by his side to protect him and you couldnât.
âNot really,â he exhaled and leaned over with his elbows on his knees.
the sunset was exactly like it always was, for years in this dreamland. the only place you could see him and talk to him was through sleeping. even when he thought it was in his head.
âYouâre the bravest person I know,â
percy turns around and looks at you with a widen expression. did you mean him? this caught him by surprise and all emotions started to go crazy.
âYou are so much more then what you realize, percy. so much more then me, then anyone else I know.â placing a hand on his shoulder and given it a small squeeze, trying not to get emotional at the tears in his eyes.
âAnd I know it feels like I havenât been there, I know, but I love you so much. And despite being my little brother you are more of a hero than Iâll ever be.â
percy felt his body tense. something was being repaired in his heart and it made him feel warmth.
the thing you didnât expect was him to lunged at you and pull you into a tight hug. his head rested in your chest as you sat stunned for a minute at this action.
all you ever wanted was for him to know how much you loved him.
âThank you,â percy whispered. finally you wrapped your arms around him while the corner of your eyes failed to keep the tears inside.
you held him just as tight as the day you felt, like it was the last.
đ please donât repost my fics on other websites. This is my writing. And I donât own the characters just y/n.
summary you spent your entire life protecting him, but when the time came, he couldn't protect you.
fic type angst/hurt
pairing percy jackson x fem!sister!reader
word count 1.5k
warnings tw! major character death, no happy ending, sibling death, sadness, reminiscence, mentions of percy hallucinating, it's just really sad, keep tissues around.
masterlist
dividers from this post of @cafekitsune! be sure to check them out!
note flashbacks are all in italics and blue, your ghost speaks in bold. This is set before Sea of Monsters, but after Lightning Thief.
The day was bright, it was the week he was allowed to be home from boarding school. The sky was cloudless, cornflower blue, and the sea was just as vivid. The cabin was warm, it felt like home to him. He heard his mom in the kitchen, making blue cookies, he heard you singing horribly into a ladle pretending it was a microphone.
"Y/n, stop, you suck at singing!" He'd said from his perch on the kitchen island.
As usual it earned him a playful noogie and a laugh from you.
"I know I suck, Perce," you'd said. "But what kind of sister would I be if I didn't annoy you from time to time?"
Here he lay on his bed in an empty cabin, staring at the ceiling. That was a whole summer ago. It was a whole summer ago that he had teased you about your ridiculous singing abilities. He'd wanted to do it this time, too. But he couldn't.
He was dying on the inside. He was numb, he was hurting, he didn't know what was going on. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Yet at the same time he felt like he was drowning in them.
A child of Poseidon can't drown, but the sea he was thrashing around in, trying to stay afloat, was his grief.
'Let it go,'
He heard your voice in his head, he thought he saw you sitting on the bed beside his, he could've sworn on any god to name that he saw you in that dark blue flannel you adored, the one your girlfriend Janine had given you, sitting on the bed with that lopsided smile on your face.
He felt like he was going crazy.
'I can't,' he thought. 'If I did, that would mean I'm letting go of a part of me,'
"Perce, mom said I need to get groceries for her, you wanna come with?" You'd said, knocking on his bedroom door after he'd gotten in trouble at school again.
"No," he'd said, clearly in a sour mood. He chucked his baseball against the wall and caught it again, looking utterly dejected.
You didn't take his 'no' as an answer. You instead heaved him up off his feet, ignoring his protests, and dragged him to the store.
"Honestly, I hate bananas," you'd said randomly. "Bananas are such brainless fruits,"
He'd tilted his head in confusion. "What?"
"Like, think about it, they have skins that peel away completely, they're uninteresting, bland, and they're exactly like that trashy science teacher of yours, " you'd nonchalantly said. "Characterless, stupid, and plain outdated,"
That had made him laugh. You alway sknew one way or another, how to brighten his gloomiest days.
"Let's grab some nice blue food colouring and vanilla ice cream," you'd said, putting in as many candies as he'd liked into the shopping cart. "And then we can go home and make our own type of sad-day sundaes, and be sad together. How does that sound?"
"I like that idea," he'd grinned broadly. "How'd you know that's what I had in mind?"
"I'm your sister, Perce," you'd winked at him. "I always know."
He was back to reality, in his cabin, maybe seeing your ghost beside him. Cruel mind games, of course.
"Why'd you have to take the fall?" He asked, staring at your silent 'ghost'. You shrugged, leaning your elbows on your knees, hands clasped together.
"I have to protect you," you said. "Always. No matter the cost."
"I could've saved myself, firstly, and the cost, was your life!"
"I know. And because of that cost, you're here today, alive,"
The first time you'd come to his rescue was way back when he was around five years old on the playground, and you were ten.
A few nosy twelve year olds had decided that picking on a random kid on the swings seemed to be a good idea.
Till Y/n Jackson made them regret it.
"You gonna cry?" One of the 12-year-olds had asked Percy after having shoved him off the swings. Taunt after taunt till he was reduced to tears.
However, just as you had noticed him on the sandy, disgusting ground, you stood up and marched over to the boys with a look of such fury on your face that it rivalled even Sally Jackson's.
The dialogue for him was a blur, because he was having trouble focusing in the moment with the amount of shouting and yelling.
All he remembered was you grabbing one of the boys' hair and slamming their nose into your knee before the punches rained down on you.
He stood in the kitchen, icing his head where he'd hit it on the ground after being shoved off the swings, while his mom patched up your bleeding nose, cut-up knees, and bloodied knuckles.
"--Twice your height, two years older, what were you thinking?" Sally asked, in her usual tone. No anger, just curiosity. She always sought to understand rather than reprimand.
"I wasn't," you said in the plain way you always did. "I just knew they hurt my brother."
"Don't you know how much you're hurting me now?" He asked, glaring at you. "I can't sleep, because I see you screaming at me and Grover to run. I can't think properly without hearing your stipud voice in my head, I can't even live peacefully because I know that you didn't make it past the barrier that day because you had to distract the minotaur. The minotaur that wanted me."
He was angry now. He was burning with anger like the fire that burned in Ares' eyes, like the fire that melted the metal in a forge. He wanted to hit you, he wanted to claw out your eyes, he wanted to grab your wrist that day and make you run with him.
"I know, Perce, I know," you smiled calmly. "But regretting that day, playing it back over and over like a broken record won't make me come back."
"I hate you for that," he said. He felt the tears, he felt his dam breaking. He felt himself start to go under. "I hate you so much for just standing there in the rain, screaming for me and Grover to run. I hate you for not being able to block the minotaur's hit. I hate you for leaving me here alone!"
A small smile spread over your ghostly features. "Honestly, I know you do. You're angry, Perce. You're angry with me, and you have every right to be. But think: if I had made it that day, would you have figured out how to make a name for yourself here at camp on your own?"
That day was the worst day of his entire life, hands down.
The rain was coming down in sheets, the minotaur was roaring loudly, having already crushed Sally Jackson's body into golden dust.
"Percy! Grover!" Your voice came through the torrential rain's loud rush, and the deafening claps of thunder overhead. "Run up the hill! I'll hold off the minotaur!"
"No! I'm not leaving you!" Percy had said indignantly. "You're coming with us!"
"If I do, then all three of us are just about as good as DEAD!" you'd exclaimed, prying his hand off your wrist.
You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his head quickly. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me! Just GO!"
"Y/N--"
"I'll meet you in the morning!" You'd winked, before shoving him back towards Grover and charging at the monster, your fierce battle cry echoing through the rain.
You didn't meet him that morning. You didn't see him at all, because you were carried in on a stretcher with a white cloth draped over your body. Red bloodstains showed on the spotless cloth, and you lay motionless on the bed in the infirmary while one of the older Apollo kids prepped you for cremation.
Percy's heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.
He tore his throat open screaming, he made his palms bloody and knuckles red with the amount of times he clenched his fists and beat at the ground or wall.
His whole heart felt odd, beating at a rhythm which was unfamiliar to him. He felt like his arm had been chopped off, like one of his organs was missing.
His heart was beating, blood flowing, his pulse in his neck, but he wasn't alive. Not really.
His skin tingled with the weight of your hug, he felt the ghost of your lips against his temple. He hated the feeling, but he wanted it to linger.
"You always protected me," he whispered to your ghost. "But the one time I had to protect you, my sister, I couldn't."
"Because protecting me wasn't your job, Perce," you said. "You loved me, that was enough."
Before he could reply, he blinked and your ghost had vanished.
He didn't have you to hug him, tell him it was alright, then take him for ice cream. He didn't have you to dust him off and patch your own wounds up later. He didn't have you to tease about horrible singing, he didn't have you.
He just had the small things you'd do.
hi! it's me, lea! i hope you enjoyed this oneshot, and feel free to request! i apologise for how sad this was, i'm in my sad writing era now, tee hee :> i love you all!
Hi lea!!!! Can you write about an clarisse la true x apollo!reader
Clarisse got in trouble for something (what's new tho) and got a punishment of helping out with the little demigods art class for 2 weeks (or however long) the volunteer teacher is reader. At first Clarisse did NOT wanna be there she acted like a baby for the first few days but after she got more involved and started to understand she enjoyed it (she would never admit it), she started talking to the kids more (she totally has favorites, reader has to constantly tell her dont be so obvious about her favorites đ) it got to a point where the kids would start talking to her outside of class. Also Clarisse definitely doesn't develop a crush on reader. AT ALL. SHE DEFINITELY HATES HOW PASSIONATE SHE IS ABOUT THE KIDS AND ART AND HOW GOOD SHE IS WITH KIDS SHE DOESN'T THINK ITS CUTE AT ALL. SHE DOESNT THINK OF THAT CLASS AS ONE BIG FAMILY. I mean what???? Who said that???
Anyways when it's time for her to go reader takes some of the kids to make a goodbye sign for clarisse; clarisse takes her 100% not favorite kid on a secret mission to make an 'I'm staying' sign. Then reader and Clarisse present them at the same time and it's all cutesy!! After class, reader asks clarisse on a date via showing her a pain she drew of them on a date and hopes she gets the message!
Thank you! :)
you got an artist inside you - clarisse la rue
summary where clarisse finds herself falling in love with a girl over paintbrushes and a punishment
fic type fluff
pairing clarisse la rue x fem!apollo!reader
word count 1.8k
warnings none
The camp was usually sleepy, quiet, and mostly empty apart from a few stray campers training here and there. But with summer already beating down with a burning force, it was full of kids running around, training left right and center, and all-in-all just general chaos.
So with the burning heat came grumpy older campers, which meant fights.
And a fight at lunch is what led to Clarissa having to help the younger campers with art class, with the co-teacher being none other than you, Y/n L/n, counsellor of the Apollo cabin. Additionally and otherwise known as the girl Clarisse was smitten with.
"Clarisse La Rue if you don't stop whining like that right now, I am going to smack you," you grumbled in utter frustration for the fifth time that hour, when she complained to you about some kid not cutting the paper the way it was supposed to be cut.
For a child of the god of war, she was such a wuss sometimes.
"But they're not following-" she began to protest, but a smack upside the head with a roll of wrapping paper shut her up.
"They're seven year olds in a summer camp art class," you emphasised on those facts. "They're gonna do their own thing!"
This was how the first few days went. She complained, you disciplined both her and the kids. But once she got used to the whole routine of you both giving instructions and the final products having irritatingly distinct variations, she cooled down.
If this was going to be a punishment for the next two weeks, she might as well enjoy it.
The art room, as usual, was a mess. Glitter was everywhere, coloured pencils were strewn around, papers were on the floor, blackened and trampled on. The strong scent of glue made everyone a bit woozy, and there was enough shouting for supplies across the table to give even the calmest camper a sensory overload.
Clarisse sat in the danger zone where the most glitter was being thrown around and spilled, and her soft skin was already glimmering with purple and red glitter as she tried restoring order. However, instead of yelling as usual she was laughing along with the little kids.
One kid in particular, you noticed, she helped far more than the others. A Hephaestus kid named Dennis, who was the sweetest little thing with big, round glasses and bronze hearing aids that you had Charlie customise so they looked like metal elf ear tips.
You pulled Clarissa aside and scolded her with a smile, âClar, you cannot pick favourites!â
Clarissa loved your smile with everything she had. So naturally, she was so captivated by it that she didn't hear you the first time. Nor did she register the scolding.
"Excuse me, but Dennis deserves special treatment--" She began, but you cut her off.
"No, he's just like the other kids, okay? Just make sure you don't pick favourites, please," you sighed and walked away, going back to showing the kids how to make paper butterflies.
But you're my favourite, she thought to herself. She wished she had the courage to say it out loud, admit her feelings for you, but she couldn't.
Later, as time went by, as days of standing in clouds of glitter and glue fumes began and ended, Clarisse found that she was apparently likeable. After classes, during training, during dinner, she'd have little kids pulling her sleeve to talk to her, she'd have kids randomly hugging her at odd times of the day, or giving her small artworks like a wonky bird or a odd-looking Cerebrus. It shocked the campers beyond belief.
But for you it just made your love for her grow.
One day during class, a Demeter kid named Flora started to cry because glitter went into her eye. You rushed over immediately and helped her up, holding her in your arms as you took her to the basin to clean her up.
"Shh, don't cry, baby, it's okay, I'm gonna wash it out, alright?" You said softly.
"Guys, focus on your work, Flo's fine," Clarisse said, clapping her hands to direct the staring kids back to work, her eyes fixed on you as you washed Flora's eyes with water gently, telling her that she should not to go so close to the page when blowing glitter off in the softest voice the child of war had ever heard.
You were so gentle, like the softest summer breeze which didn't make the leaves rustle, but cooled one's warming skin. You were so precious, with your soft smile and loving words. Your voice was sweet like honey, no matter who you talked to or how.
If your voice was bottled, she swore to the gods that she'd get drunk on it every night.
"You okay, champ?" She asked, gently ruffling Flora's soft brown hair as the girl sat down. "You're a strong girl, aren't you? Showed that stupid glitter it's place."
You giggled at the way she spoke, covering your mouth with your hand to hide it. It was ridiculously obvious that Clarisse thought the kids in the art class were like family, and it was genuinely so adorable.
Seeing her like this, curly hair pulled back in her red bandanna, arms splattered with paint here and there, with glitter shining off her smooth caramel skin with every movement she made into the light, lit up something inside of you. Seeing her without her usual scowl, pulling funny faces with the kids as she showed them how to draw a monster, made your heart beat twice as fast.
However, two weeks went by with heartbreaking speed, and before she knew it, she was in Chiron's office, listening to him gleefully say she was officially un-grounded.
But honestly? She didn't share his happiness.
Nor did you.
"What?! Already!?" You exclaimed that evening as you sat in your cabin at your desk, which had plans put out for what to make for the next art class.
"Yeah," she grumbled, lounging on your bed. "I hate it."
"That's rough, but it's okay, you can always hop in to volunteer,"
"What do we tell the little ones?"
"The truth?"
"You're fucking crazy if you think they'll go with it,"
"I'm out of options, Clar," you leaned back in your chair and put your hands over your eyes. "I love that class, and I love teaching art."
"I know, and as much as I hate to admit it," she sat up. "So do I."
The very next day, Clarisse rushed to Chiron and begged him to let her stay for that class. Even going to lengths that she told him how she felt for you.
"Fine," he relented. "You can stay with the class for as long as you'd like,"
She'd never run to the forges to find a kid so fast.
"Beckendorf!" She exclaimed, looking at the cabin counselor. "Hey, where's Dennis?"
The boy looked around, and his eyes landed on Dennis, who was inquisitively watching one of his half-sisters mold a few practice swords, helping occasionally with putting the swords in water.
"Dennis!" Beckendorf exclaimed, "Clarisse wants to talk to you!"
Dennis immediately ran over, grinning broadly, showing his gap-toothed smile. "Hi, Clarisse!" He said, excitedly.
"Hey there, big boy!" She smiled back, giving him a high five. "So listen, I'm going to need your insane artistic skills and your help..."
While you did help the other kids make a 'goodbye' sign for Clarisse, on the side you decided to confront your feelings.
You knew you liked her from the beginning, from when you first saw her infectious smile, from when you heard her deep laugh reverberating through the empty Apollo cabin on days where you both would plan lessons.
She held the key to your heart, she knew her way past your walls. She clearly also knew how to remain in your thoughts, subconscious and conscious, to the point where you found yourself in the art studio, canvas on an easel before you.
Thoughts of her, of feeling her coarse, battle-worn hands on your skin, of gazing into those deep brown eyes which were like the colour of the rain-kissed earth, and when she fought were like the evening sun, golden enough to put the wings of Icarus to shame, made your paintbrush move. It made your colours flow like the blood in your veins, made each stroke perfect enough to create the scene you most desired on the canvas in front of you.
You stepped back once you felt the need to express yourself flow away, gazing at the canvas. A scene it held, and what a scene indeed. The sky was cornflower blue, a cloudless day, with the sunâs rays shining down on a big oak tree. The leaves were paler as the golden light kissed the surface, casting sharp shadows on the pillowy grass.
But then there was vivid orange and red, a flash of bronze. In the foreground there sat both you and Clarisse, the latter having more detail than any part of the drawing.
Then the dreaded day came where you all had to say goodbye to her.
The little ones were devastated, not letting Clarisse go anywhere without following her around like baby ducklings, making her explain to them that she's not going away from camp, she's just not going to teach them anymore.
At the end of the final class, just as everyone unveiled the 'we'll miss you' poster, she and Dennis revealed their 'I'm Staying' poster, causing a loud, thunderous cheer to erupt from all of you.
Later, you pulled her aside to give her your canvas painting.
Nerves wracked your body, your palms began to sweat.
When was the last time you had felt this nervous? It was probably your cello recital the day you had come to camp...
"Holy shit, Y/n this looks absolutely amazing!" Clarisse exclaimed, taking the painting in her hands.
She didn't miss the detail you had given her, drawing her angelically, despite her thinking she was the opposite. It was so well done that the brush strokes weren't even visible.
Please get the message, you blockheaded, oblivious fool...you thought.
Deciding to act against your nerves, you asked her in a shaky voice, "That's a painting of us on a date...would you like to go on one with me sometime?"
Clarisse's heart stopped. Had you just asked her out on a date?
She was at a loss for words, they didn't touch her tongue, nor did they pass her lips. She stood there, speechless, gaping at you for a moment too long.
"I mean, I get it, you're probably not even a les--" you began, but a pair of gentle lips on yours silenced your words.
Sparks flew, butterflies went haywire, your brain short-circuited. You didn't know what to doo, just stood there frozen with shock. Kissing the girl you had liked for the last few months now.
Clarisse, however, was ecstatic. Her mind was a burst of colour, her body was ablaze. She felt like she had wings, and her heart was taking her up, up, up.
Once she pulled away, she winked at your blushing face and dopey grin.
"It's a date, L/n."
hi, it's me! lea! i hope you enjoyed this long overdue oneshot <3 requests are open via dms or asks!
march seemed like such a long month for me yet i feel like i did not achieve my tumble grind i promised you guys last month đ april will be my month for real! thank you again to all of these beautiful authors!! i kiss the ground you all walk onđ
dividers from this post of @cafekitsune, check out their account!
At this point, Clarisse had no clue how the hell she fell for you.
You relationship had started when she'd tried to intimidate you on your first day at camp, and instead of backing down under her fierce as death gaze, you had threatened her at literal knifepoint.
"I've stood up to bullies bigger than you," you'd snapped, your soft e/c blazing with fire as the tip of a dagger kissed the underside of her jaw. âSo back off, or Iâll make you regret it.â
While that earned you respect amongst everyone in camp, it earned you respect of every Ares cabin member, too.
Especially Clarisse la Rue.
The scariest girl in camp.
It had started off with her debating on whether or not she would be mean to you, making you her enemy, or befriending you.
She was strong, not stupid, so she chose the latter option.
Which brought you both here, today, three years later.
The spring season had started setting in, flowers were blooming, the sun was pleasant, wind wasn't scarce and it was cool. Sitting under the trees in the woods became a natural pastime for year-round campers like the two of you.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the surrounding trees, casting irregularly shaped shadows on the ground, turning them a deep green on the slightly prickly but comfortable grass.
Clarisse leaned her back against the big tree you both were sitting under, polishing her spearhead, with you in front of her, doing the same for your knives.
The daughter of Ares, while she'd never admit it aloud, was absolutely smitten when it came to you. In fact, this feeling had been lingering in her heart for some time, one which attracted her to you in a definitely non-platonic way.
So here she sat, listening to you talking. Your voice was the only thing she was focused on besides polishing her weapon. It stood out amongst the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees, the call of a distant bird, the lapping of the lake's water against the edge just past the clearing.
"So, I told Silena that Charlie's in love with her, not her actual dumb blonde of a sister, Sharon," you said, rubbing the polish on the cloth you had in hand, before continuing to polish your left-hand knife. "You know, for a child of Aphrodite, she is remarkably oblivious towards loving advances. Oh, and you know that girl, Kyra, from the Hephaestus cabin? My gods, she has been looking so fine--"
Clarisse stopped listening right then. She knew you were smitten with this girl from the Hephaestus cabin, and by every one of the ever-merciful gods of Olympus, she hated it. She hated how you talked about Kyra, how your eyes lit up when the muscled girl covered with grease so much it was an accessory would glance at you.
She tuned out and stared at you, not noticing the disdainful look on her face.
"Risse, you look like you just smelled a wild centaur," you laughed, putting the cloth down and sheathing your knives again.
Clarisse rolled her eyes and grumbled, "No, I don't like Kyra's vibe."
"Aww, jealous?"
"You wish,"
You were so oblivious. Not only were you unaware that Kyra was a playgirl, but you didnât notice that Clarisse was smitten with you to the point where it was embarrassing.
For starters she looked at you like you were the world. With adoration, awe, and wonder. She honestly couldnât stop thinking about you.
She hated how you didnât notice how her eyes lit up around you, how she was softer with you compared to others, how she let you paint her nails (mostly) without complaint.
You were just too oblivious.
Naturally, that evening, that same evening, she was at the Ares table, talking with her own siblings, while she watched you help Percy out with the rest of the campâs social structuresâsomething he hadnât quite figured out yet, even after having gone on a quest.
But the way her blood boiled, as if a furnace had lit up inside her heart, making fire course through her veins, when Kyra came up to you. She saw how flustered you got, saw the way your cheeks reddened when Kyra brushed a hair from your face.
By the gods and her fatherâs name she wanted to smack that Hephaestus girl into next weekâŚ
Meanwhile, you say with Kyra, enjoying the butterflies in your stomach when she touched you, laughed at your nervous ramblingâs. But the butterflies suddenly came into light as a warning. What was the likeliness that this affection would last? What was concrete in this interaction? Was it just a playful banter? Or something serious?
So many questions, not enough answers.
But one thing was for certain: Kyra wasnât the one for you. It took just one interaction for you to understand that.
To understand that Clarisse was right.
But before you could walk away, your hotheaded best friend, seething with anger, jealousy rolling off her in waves, came up to you both and âborrowedâ Kyra for a moment.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â Clarisse asked as she led a very surprised Kyra into the forest. âWhat exactly do you think youâre doing, playing with Y/nâs feelings like that?â
âCome on,â Kyra laughed, Nerva wearing off a little as her arrogance took over. âSheâs a girl, a smitten little girl, who knows she likes a little bit of muscle,â
âUnfortunately she doesnât know that thereâs a snake under that damned muscle,â
âJealous, Clarisse? Of course you are,â
âWhat that supposed to mean, punk?â
âYouâre so in love with Y/n, it shows. Everyone in camp can tell,â
âOh is that right? If you know that so well, then youâd better stay the fuck away from her,â
Kyraâs brows shot up. âIs that so? What if I donât? What if I take her to this very spot, and kiss her, maybe while you watch from the bushes over there?â
Clarisse felt her fists clench, felt her whole body tense up with an adrenaline that came out only during battle.
âWhat if I break your legs and punch that stupid face in?â She asked, eyes full of the familiar fire that only her opponents saw. âI donât think Y/n likes the taste of blood.â
She relished the look of panic on Kyraâs face. The trapped-animal stare, the darting irises, searching for a way out, analysing her moves in that second. The tense muscles, clenched jaw, closed fists. All of it was familiar to the child of war.
But how familiar was it to the child of the forge? Not much, probably.
âStay the fuck away from Y/n, and you and I wonât have any problems, Kyra,â Clarisse said, her voice soft. That made it more dangerous. It was soft like the gentle rain that preceded the flooding thunderstormâa warning.
Kyra nodded, knowing it was unwise to provoke Clarisse La Rue, especially over a girl everyone in camp knew not to mess with.
But it also meant that Clarisse figured out the depth of her love for you. That it was deeper than the vastest sea, stronger than the biggest tsunami, and more damaging than a hurricane. It was fiercer than fire, more powerful than a blow from her spear, and definitely more dangerous than war.
So sheâs decided to flush out her feelings. Get them out before things got worse because she couldnât possibly find a way to get out of the âphiliaâ situation she had going with you. She wanted âerosâ, wanted âludusâ, and she knew it.
Her catalyst was the mind, she wanted it to be the body., wanted it to be the heart. She wanted you in a way that friends never wanted each other. She wanted you the way Achilles wanted Patroclus, wanted you the way Romeo wanted Juliet, the way Orpheus wanted Eurydice.
She wanted you and only you.
But she could never have that.
So she decided the best way to manage her haywire heart was distance.
But by every one of the gods, big and small, was she wrong.
You found that Kyra didnât look in your direction ever again, and additionally, found Clarisse avoiding you with nearly psychotic fervour.
Three days. You tolerated it for three days.
Finally you stormed up to Clarisse when she was training. With a swift kick to the back of her knee, you sent her crashing to the ground, disarming her spear from her.
âWhat did you think you were doing, avoiding me like this?!â You seethed, knife at her throat. âWhat, was this your idea of punishing me for having Kyra flirt with me?â
Calmly, Clarisse moved you off her like one would brush away a particularly disgruntled cat, and stood up.
âLook, Iâm fine, I wasnât doing anything,â she shrugged, grabbing her spear.
You rolled your eyes. This girl was dumb, stupid, and an absolute useless person when it came to interacting with others.
âI donât think ignoring me for three straight days can be counted as ânot doing anythingâ!â You snapped, annoyed.
Clarisse flinched at your tone.
âWhy?!â You asked, following her around as she cleared up the arena. âWhy exactly have you been ignoring me, hm?â
She listened patiently to your incessant pestering, going about her business while you looked like you were about to blow a gasket with how mad you were since your hands began to move more animatedly, your frown deepening even more.
âWhy the hell did you say that nothingâs wrong when something clearly is?! Are you jealous? Is that it?! Why?!â You asked, expecting her not to reply the way she had been the last ten minutes.
Clarisse had had enough. She was taking the plunge into that deep dark sea, not sure if she was ready to face the monsters in it.
âBecause Iâm in love with you!â She said, turning around with a terrified look on her face. âIâm in love with you, and I didnât know what to do about it because you clearly donât love me back!â
You stood silent for a second too long. But she didnât run. She stayed there, waiting for your answer.
âYouâre in love with me?â You asked, baffled.
No butterflies, nothing fluttered in your stomach, your heart rate merely quickened and your body pulsed in every place with serotonin.
No butterflies meant this wasnât just a thing, a fling. It wasnât mindless flirting.
This was âludusâ, the love of intimacy, pure love.
âYes, Y/n, and it kills me every single day, hearing you ramble about Kyra, and you know what Iâm thinking when you talk about her like that?â She asked, tears ready to come out of her eyes. âI think that I could treat you like a queen, like youâre above Hera herself. I think that why would you love a playgirl who wonât give a single fuck about your feelings, when Iâm here already knowing what you want for breakfast every day of the week! I think that I could be better than her, that I am better than her, in every possible way, but youâre just blind! You donât see that I look at you like youâre the world because youâre so smitten with a girl who would toss you aside for the next blonde girl she sees!â
You listened to her carefully, taking in her words. In between, neither of you knew when, she had started crying. Small tears rolled down her bronze skin, tracing small pathways in their trail of sadness, of pain.
âIâm sorry,â you replied softly, stepping closer, putting a hand up to wipe her eyes. âIâm sorry that I was blind to how you feel about me, Iâm sorry for not noticing it sooner,â
âAnd Y/n, youâre my best friend, okay? I canâtâŚI know that we can never be together andâŚâ she stopped short when your hands went up to cup her cheeks.
âWhy is that?â
âPhilia, Y/n. Friendship love.â
âWho says it canât progress?â
âYou donât love me back,â
âI do,â
âFriendship love doesnât count here,â
âBold of you to assume Iâm talking about friendship,â
Clarisse froze.
âI love you too, Clarisse,â you said softly, looking at her in her eyes. âAnd Iâm not talking about âphiliaâ. Gods I love you the way Achilles loved Patroclus, the way Romeo loved Juliet, the way Orpheus loved Euridyce,â
âI thought that too,â she whispered, shocked. âHowâŚâ
âI know that because these three romances are the ones Iâve read to you,â you replied. âI know you, Clarisse. But I was too blind to see your love went past my mind and extended to my heart, my body, my soul. And Iâm sorry for being blind.â
âYou belong with me, not her,â
âDo you see me doubting that?â
She giggled softly. Clarisse La Rue, the most feared girl in camp, giggled like a little kid.
âItâs okay, I guess, you little dumbass,â she chuckled. âSoâŚwhat now?â
âI donât know, do we kiss?â You asked, confused. âYou know I have never kissed a girl before andââ
She silenced you with a finger to your lips.
âLetâsâŚtake it slow? Ease into it?â She asked. âCause I have never kissed a girl either,â
âBe my girlfriend, though?â
âYou thought Iâd say no?â
Hi! Itâs me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3
i like me better when iâm with you - luke castellan
summary when a new kid comes to camp, luke gets a bit more stressed than usual, and he goes to his safe spaceâyou.
fic type fluff
pairing luke castellan x fem!Apollo!reader
word count 1.2k
warnings stressed!luke, very much fluff
masterlist
dividers from this post of @cafekitsune ! credits to them and do go check out their posts <3
When people thought of the best swordsman in camp, their first thought was Luke Castellan. The calm Hermes cabin counselor, the one who took every unclaimed camper under his wing. It also meant he was thought of as the only one to beat Clarisse in a fight, the one who had better technique than the others by light years.
But for you, Luke was the sweet boy who brought you flowers every other day, the boy who called you âsunshineâ to play around, the boy who held you so gently and kissed you so sweet. To you, Luke was just a soft sweetheart who loved you to the ends of the earth.
But âonly for youâ as a statement held fast and true with him.
He never acted the same way around other campers the way he acted with you. Not only did they never receive even the slightest easy praise as you did, but they never got that blind trust, that unwavering faith he had in you. Maybe the trust bit was a bit exclusive to Annabeth, but even then that was because they were close. Family.
So it did come to you as a shock when Percy came to camp and that side came out in Luke.
After poor Percyâs unfortunately encounter with Clarisse, you had spotted Luke with him and decided to come over. As the counselor of the Apollo cabin, you additionally decided to help your boyfriend and his new little stray.
âHey Luke,â you smiled, approaching them both as they talked under the shade of the trees. You leaned your arm against his shoulder, smiling at Percy in a friendly way.
Luke took a second to just look at you. He took in the way the dampened sun kissed your hair, making it shine ever so slightly, the way the shadows fell cleanly on your face to highlight the contours of your face, the way you were so at ease around him and the new camper.
He was so used to seeing you that he only had to take a second to appreciate your features and presence.
âOh, Percy, meet Y/n, Apollo cabin counselor,â Luke said with a slight smile as he looked at the boy.
You put a hand out to Percy. He did really look like a sweet boy with his soft-looking face, blue-green eyes, and curly gold hair.
âHey Percy, welcome to camp half-blood,â you smiled. âIâm Y/n, Lukeâs girlfriend,â
You could practically hear Luke roll his eyes beside you, his hand resting sneakily against the small of your back as it always did.
âNice to meet you, Y/n,â said Percy with a small smile.
âAw, heâs so sweet for a kid on his first day,â you said, looking at Luke, who laughed a bit and looked down, running a hand through his dark curly hair. âWhatâre you two up to?â
âNothing much, sunshine, just trying to find out whoâs this guyâs godly parent,â Luke shrugged, looking back at you.
âNice,â you laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. âI wonât hold you guys up for too long, though. Donât worry,â
However, once you left, as usual Luke felt your absence instantly. It wasnât the literal absence, obviously, which everyone felt, but he always felt like a part of him was missing when he wasnât around you. As if part of his happiness wasnât there because in truth, it wasnât.
It also meant his safe space was not around instantly. It meant that his confidant was too many steps away to be immediate, to be accessible.
So he waited, as always.
He waited for the sun to go down, for the time for responsibilities to go down with it. He waited for the moon to rise, for the sky to turn from cornflower to depthless midnight blue.
The camp was quiet, deathly so, with the distant call of owls from the woods and the rustle of leaves when the scarce wind blew. The night was a mask which cloaked his sounds, his footsteps, his presence, as he walked down the mossy stone pathway into the trees, towards the mirroring lake.
There you sat, the daughter of the sun, looking ever-radiant in the moonâs soft glow. Your body was a silhouette against the silver of the ethereal light, your calculating eyes cast towards the lake, where there seemed another world to mirror this.
Lost in your own thoughts, thoughts which were kept at bay during the sunâs time, you didnât hear the quiet footsteps, the shift of the pebbles on the lakeside, come up behind you and rest his hands on your shoulders.
âLuke, you scared the hell out of me!â You exclaimed, laughing softly, looking up at him with shining eyes.
He shrugged and sat beside you, leaning back on his palms as his long legs stretched out before him, feet a good way away from the water.
âIt wasnât intentional,â he smiled, looking at you.
Your brows quirked up, amused. âOh, is that right?â
âYup,â
âDonât pop the âpâ like that you sound ridiculous,â
âI can never sound ridiculous, Iâm too good looking for that,â
âCanât say I agree,â
He looked at you with mock offence and grabbed you around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he ruffled your hair, ignoring your hushed protests and struggles.
You finally squirmed out of his grip, laughing softly.
âYouâre such an ass!â You laughed, shoving him by the shoulder.
He winked at you, smiling in that same mischievous way that reminded you that despite his responsibilities, he wasnât quite the adult he portrayed himself as. He was just 19, not even at legal drinking age, for godsâ sake.
But he had to admit that your laugh was the sweetest, most beautiful thing heâd ever heard in his life. It felt like the springâs first sunâwarm, gentle, and comforting. Perhaps even familiar, he would say.
âNow tell me whatâs wrong, love,â you said, your e/c falling to rest on his own, holding what looked like concern.
Was he being concerning? At least he must be, for you to look at him as if his puppy just got run overâŚ
âSafe space, Luke,â he reminded himself. âShe knows you too well, she gets you,â
He sighed and nodded, âWell, for starters, Percyâs still unclaimed and will not let the whole âwhere is my dadâ thing go,â
âBaby, heâs 12, of course heâs in shock, he canât just let things go,â you said.
Of course, Y/n L/n, the voice of straightforward reason.
âI know butâŚâ he sharply let out a breath, trying to find the words which were on the tip of his tongue but were stuck in his throat. âHeâs justâŚheâs not accepting things the way they are. Heâs so damn persistent, constantly questioning the way things work.â
You moved closer to him, moving such that you could sit behind him and pull him close to you, letting his back rest against you while your legs stayed on either side. He felt your hands start to play with his curls, fingertips running over his scalp gently.
His whole body tingled, his skin warmed from your touch. Not only was it because you kept your own skin a little warm on cold nights like this but because of how soft you were with him, because of how gentle your touch was. Because he felt a blush creep along his cheeks at the familiarity of the gesture, at how affectionate you were.
âBut look, it means that Iâm answering questions that no other camperâs asked me before, and I donât know how I feel about thatâŚunpredictability,â he explained, staring out at the lake. âPlus with day afterâs capture the flag and with my training schedule being booked up back to back, I cannot handle those questions because they need time to be thought over and I donât have that kind of time,â
Your hands in his hair paused as an amused tone came with your words, ââŚis Luke Castellan admitting to me, Y/n L/n, that heâs stressed? You stressed, baby, is that it?â
He laughed at the way you talked, like he was a child, with that sweet tone, higher pitch, and general air of playfulness.
âNo, Iâm not,â he protested, looking up at you, a small smile dancing on his lips as he laughed softly.
Gods, his laugh was everything. You enjoyed the rise and fall of it, his deep voice vibrating through your body with how close he was. It wasnât explosive, nor was it polite. It was just him being a kid, him being himself, unrestrained by the image of a calm and reserved counselor that he had on most of the time.
âThatâs a lie,â you smirked, giggling softly, tilting his head back so he could look at you properly.
He smiled a bit, as your finger traced up the line of his scar, and he stuck his tongue out at you jokingly.
âFine, tell me more. Get it all of your chest,â you winked, leaning down to kiss his forehead softly.
So he talked all his worries away, till the moon rose high and the water stopped rippling. He talked till his throat ran dry and his eyes started to droop as sleepâs staying caress enveloped you both.
âWe should get back,â you yawned, feeling him sit up and out of your arms.
He nodded, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. âYeah, we shouldâŚâ
He, as a gentleman, stood up first and helped you up, smiling at you as you dusted yourself off and followed him back through the quiet woods and to the cabins. You looped your hand through the crook of his elbow, resting your head against his shoulder affectionately every now and then, smiling up at him.
The trees werenât as quiet as the night, nor was the grass, as the crickets chirped softly amidst the foliage, and the leaves rustled with the slightest bit of wind that danced through them.
âCan I bother you for a little kiss before we go back to our cabins?â You asked, standing in front of him at the split in the road which led to the Apollo cabin and Hermes cabin.
Luke thought about it for a moment just to tease you, earning a whack on the arm from your end and a laugh.
âObviously,â he chuckled, pulling you closer by your wrist, his other arm coming up to encircle your waist, as your head tilted up for your lips to meet his in a soft kiss.
His hand left your wrist to cup your cheek while your arms rested around his neck, holding him such that he stayed down a bit to your level. Your lips moved in sync, the action already a habit with the number of times you both had kissed in the past two years of you both dating.
Despite that, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the way his lips felt against yours, the way he held you so tenderly.
Once air became a problem you both had to pull away, and a light blush dusted your cheeks.
âIâll see you tomorrow morning then,â you smiled, winking at him.
âNo doubt, sunshine,â he smiled back, ruffling your hair gently, earning a sound of protest from your end as well.
âYou know I hate that nickname,â
âToo bad, sunshine,â
All you could do was roll your eyes and press a soft kiss to his cheek before turning back and heading back to the Apollo cabin on soft cat feet, making little noise as you fell into your covers, giggling softly at the ghost feeling of his lips back on yours.
Stuff was better when he was with you.
Hi! I tâs me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3 the ending is a bit eh but otherwise I hope you liked it <3
dividers from this post of @cafekitsune, check out their account!
At this point, Clarisse had no clue how the hell she fell for you.
You relationship had started when she'd tried to intimidate you on your first day at camp, and instead of backing down under her fierce as death gaze, you had threatened her at literal knifepoint.
"I've stood up to bullies bigger than you," you'd snapped, your soft e/c blazing with fire as the tip of a dagger kissed the underside of her jaw. âSo back off, or Iâll make you regret it.â
While that earned you respect amongst everyone in camp, it earned you respect of every Ares cabin member, too.
Especially Clarisse la Rue.
The scariest girl in camp.
It had started off with her debating on whether or not she would be mean to you, making you her enemy, or befriending you.
She was strong, not stupid, so she chose the latter option.
Which brought you both here, today, three years later.
The spring season had started setting in, flowers were blooming, the sun was pleasant, wind wasn't scarce and it was cool. Sitting under the trees in the woods became a natural pastime for year-round campers like the two of you.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the surrounding trees, casting irregularly shaped shadows on the ground, turning them a deep green on the slightly prickly but comfortable grass.
Clarisse leaned her back against the big tree you both were sitting under, polishing her spearhead, with you in front of her, doing the same for your knives.
The daughter of Ares, while she'd never admit it aloud, was absolutely smitten when it came to you. In fact, this feeling had been lingering in her heart for some time, one which attracted her to you in a definitely non-platonic way.
So here she sat, listening to you talking. Your voice was the only thing she was focused on besides polishing her weapon. It stood out amongst the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees, the call of a distant bird, the lapping of the lake's water against the edge just past the clearing.
"So, I told Silena that Charlie's in love with her, not her actual dumb blonde of a sister, Sharon," you said, rubbing the polish on the cloth you had in hand, before continuing to polish your left-hand knife. "You know, for a child of Aphrodite, she is remarkably oblivious towards loving advances. Oh, and you know that girl, Kyra, from the Hephaestus cabin? My gods, she has been looking so fine--"
Clarisse stopped listening right then. She knew you were smitten with this girl from the Hephaestus cabin, and by every one of the ever-merciful gods of Olympus, she hated it. She hated how you talked about Kyra, how your eyes lit up when the muscled girl covered with grease so much it was an accessory would glance at you.
She tuned out and stared at you, not noticing the disdainful look on her face.
"Risse, you look like you just smelled a wild centaur," you laughed, putting the cloth down and sheathing your knives again.
Clarisse rolled her eyes and grumbled, "No, I don't like Kyra's vibe."
"Aww, jealous?"
"You wish,"
You were so oblivious. Not only were you unaware that Kyra was a playgirl, but you didnât notice that Clarisse was smitten with you to the point where it was embarrassing.
For starters she looked at you like you were the world. With adoration, awe, and wonder. She honestly couldnât stop thinking about you.
She hated how you didnât notice how her eyes lit up around you, how she was softer with you compared to others, how she let you paint her nails (mostly) without complaint.
You were just too oblivious.
Naturally, that evening, that same evening, she was at the Ares table, talking with her own siblings, while she watched you help Percy out with the rest of the campâs social structuresâsomething he hadnât quite figured out yet, even after having gone on a quest.
But the way her blood boiled, as if a furnace had lit up inside her heart, making fire course through her veins, when Kyra came up to you. She saw how flustered you got, saw the way your cheeks reddened when Kyra brushed a hair from your face.
By the gods and her fatherâs name she wanted to smack that Hephaestus girl into next weekâŚ
Meanwhile, you say with Kyra, enjoying the butterflies in your stomach when she touched you, laughed at your nervous ramblingâs. But the butterflies suddenly came into light as a warning. What was the likeliness that this affection would last? What was concrete in this interaction? Was it just a playful banter? Or something serious?
So many questions, not enough answers.
But one thing was for certain: Kyra wasnât the one for you. It took just one interaction for you to understand that.
To understand that Clarisse was right.
But before you could walk away, your hotheaded best friend, seething with anger, jealousy rolling off her in waves, came up to you both and âborrowedâ Kyra for a moment.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â Clarisse asked as she led a very surprised Kyra into the forest. âWhat exactly do you think youâre doing, playing with Y/nâs feelings like that?â
âCome on,â Kyra laughed, Nerva wearing off a little as her arrogance took over. âSheâs a girl, a smitten little girl, who knows she likes a little bit of muscle,â
âUnfortunately she doesnât know that thereâs a snake under that damned muscle,â
âJealous, Clarisse? Of course you are,â
âWhat that supposed to mean, punk?â
âYouâre so in love with Y/n, it shows. Everyone in camp can tell,â
âOh is that right? If you know that so well, then youâd better stay the fuck away from her,â
Kyraâs brows shot up. âIs that so? What if I donât? What if I take her to this very spot, and kiss her, maybe while you watch from the bushes over there?â
Clarisse felt her fists clench, felt her whole body tense up with an adrenaline that came out only during battle.
âWhat if I break your legs and punch that stupid face in?â She asked, eyes full of the familiar fire that only her opponents saw. âI donât think Y/n likes the taste of blood.â
She relished the look of panic on Kyraâs face. The trapped-animal stare, the darting irises, searching for a way out, analysing her moves in that second. The tense muscles, clenched jaw, closed fists. All of it was familiar to the child of war.
But how familiar was it to the child of the forge? Not much, probably.
âStay the fuck away from Y/n, and you and I wonât have any problems, Kyra,â Clarisse said, her voice soft. That made it more dangerous. It was soft like the gentle rain that preceded the flooding thunderstormâa warning.
Kyra nodded, knowing it was unwise to provoke Clarisse La Rue, especially over a girl everyone in camp knew not to mess with.
But it also meant that Clarisse figured out the depth of her love for you. That it was deeper than the vastest sea, stronger than the biggest tsunami, and more damaging than a hurricane. It was fiercer than fire, more powerful than a blow from her spear, and definitely more dangerous than war.
So sheâs decided to flush out her feelings. Get them out before things got worse because she couldnât possibly find a way to get out of the âphiliaâ situation she had going with you. She wanted âerosâ, wanted âludusâ, and she knew it.
Her catalyst was the mind, she wanted it to be the body., wanted it to be the heart. She wanted you in a way that friends never wanted each other. She wanted you the way Achilles wanted Patroclus, wanted you the way Romeo wanted Juliet, the way Orpheus wanted Eurydice.
She wanted you and only you.
But she could never have that.
So she decided the best way to manage her haywire heart was distance.
But by every one of the gods, big and small, was she wrong.
You found that Kyra didnât look in your direction ever again, and additionally, found Clarisse avoiding you with nearly psychotic fervour.
Three days. You tolerated it for three days.
Finally you stormed up to Clarisse when she was training. With a swift kick to the back of her knee, you sent her crashing to the ground, disarming her spear from her.
âWhat did you think you were doing, avoiding me like this?!â You seethed, knife at her throat. âWhat, was this your idea of punishing me for having Kyra flirt with me?â
Calmly, Clarisse moved you off her like one would brush away a particularly disgruntled cat, and stood up.
âLook, Iâm fine, I wasnât doing anything,â she shrugged, grabbing her spear.
You rolled your eyes. This girl was dumb, stupid, and an absolute useless person when it came to interacting with others.
âI donât think ignoring me for three straight days can be counted as ânot doing anythingâ!â You snapped, annoyed.
Clarisse flinched at your tone.
âWhy?!â You asked, following her around as she cleared up the arena. âWhy exactly have you been ignoring me, hm?â
She listened patiently to your incessant pestering, going about her business while you looked like you were about to blow a gasket with how mad you were since your hands began to move more animatedly, your frown deepening even more.
âWhy the hell did you say that nothingâs wrong when something clearly is?! Are you jealous? Is that it?! Why?!â You asked, expecting her not to reply the way she had been the last ten minutes.
Clarisse had had enough. She was taking the plunge into that deep dark sea, not sure if she was ready to face the monsters in it.
âBecause Iâm in love with you!â She said, turning around with a terrified look on her face. âIâm in love with you, and I didnât know what to do about it because you clearly donât love me back!â
You stood silent for a second too long. But she didnât run. She stayed there, waiting for your answer.
âYouâre in love with me?â You asked, baffled.
No butterflies, nothing fluttered in your stomach, your heart rate merely quickened and your body pulsed in every place with serotonin.
No butterflies meant this wasnât just a thing, a fling. It wasnât mindless flirting.
This was âludusâ, the love of intimacy, pure love.
âYes, Y/n, and it kills me every single day, hearing you ramble about Kyra, and you know what Iâm thinking when you talk about her like that?â She asked, tears ready to come out of her eyes. âI think that I could treat you like a queen, like youâre above Hera herself. I think that why would you love a playgirl who wonât give a single fuck about your feelings, when Iâm here already knowing what you want for breakfast every day of the week! I think that I could be better than her, that I am better than her, in every possible way, but youâre just blind! You donât see that I look at you like youâre the world because youâre so smitten with a girl who would toss you aside for the next blonde girl she sees!â
You listened to her carefully, taking in her words. In between, neither of you knew when, she had started crying. Small tears rolled down her bronze skin, tracing small pathways in their trail of sadness, of pain.
âIâm sorry,â you replied softly, stepping closer, putting a hand up to wipe her eyes. âIâm sorry that I was blind to how you feel about me, Iâm sorry for not noticing it sooner,â
âAnd Y/n, youâre my best friend, okay? I canâtâŚI know that we can never be together andâŚâ she stopped short when your hands went up to cup her cheeks.
âWhy is that?â
âPhilia, Y/n. Friendship love.â
âWho says it canât progress?â
âYou donât love me back,â
âI do,â
âFriendship love doesnât count here,â
âBold of you to assume Iâm talking about friendship,â
Clarisse froze.
âI love you too, Clarisse,â you said softly, looking at her in her eyes. âAnd Iâm not talking about âphiliaâ. Gods I love you the way Achilles loved Patroclus, the way Romeo loved Juliet, the way Orpheus loved Euridyce,â
âI thought that too,â she whispered, shocked. âHowâŚâ
âI know that because these three romances are the ones Iâve read to you,â you replied. âI know you, Clarisse. But I was too blind to see your love went past my mind and extended to my heart, my body, my soul. And Iâm sorry for being blind.â
âYou belong with me, not her,â
âDo you see me doubting that?â
She giggled softly. Clarisse La Rue, the most feared girl in camp, giggled like a little kid.
âItâs okay, I guess, you little dumbass,â she chuckled. âSoâŚwhat now?â
âI donât know, do we kiss?â You asked, confused. âYou know I have never kissed a girl before andââ
She silenced you with a finger to your lips.
âLetâsâŚtake it slow? Ease into it?â She asked. âCause I have never kissed a girl either,â
âBe my girlfriend, though?â
âYou thought Iâd say no?â
Hi! Itâs me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3
