─────── 𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 head cannons ♡ 🍂 giggles bc im in the mood for somewhat soft masc / butch ellie who manhandles you.
♡ smut. thigh ridding. fingering. r! receiving. possessive ellie. thick western accent. ellie’ll be described as lean but muscular soooo i hope everyone’s good w that.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 who isn’t afraid to get dirty when she’s working. especially when she knows you’re watching. you’ve mentioned several times how much you like the way her muscles show when she’s got dirt on her arms. it’s.. hot. seeing her all sweaty and grimy. makes you squirm and close your thighs together. when her face gets all flushed from the heat, she’ll flex just right while maintaining eye contact with you from across the wheat fields.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 who watches as you strut around in your run down kitchen, serving her freshly squeezed lemonade in your white cotton underwear. she even beckons you to sit on her thigh, urging your hips to move when she notices how pent up you are. she knows how much you love to ride her thigh, especially when she’s in her jeans.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 likes to fuck you dumb. & i mean, literally dumb. until you’re a babbling mess and unable to even respond to a simple question. it gives her a sense of pride knowing that she’s able to fuck you up like that.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 fingers you when you’re trying to work. wether it be working on documents or preparing dinner, she’s always got a hand up your skirt. either that or she’s subtly unbuttoning your jeans while kissing your neck from behind. regardless, her two long fingers are constantly fondling your cunt.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 likes to watch you play dress up. when she takes you on your monthly shopping spree to your local lingerie store, she can’t help but sit in the small comfy chair within the changing room; her eyes tracing every curve of your body as you try on—not enough in her opinion—every piece of lingerie within the store. she especially loves to imagine herself fucking you in them. right there; in the dressing room.
she’s just a tad bit too shy—or maybe prideful—to actually do so.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 who swears her accent isn’t thick. to you, it’s perfect. she doesn’t really hear it, of course, and you can’t help but tease her for it. not in a bad way, but in a way that shows how turned on you get from simple phrases. when she doesn’t pronounce her words fully and instead slurs them slightly— “s’alright darlin’, i’ll take care o’ya.” you’re damn near cumming right then and there.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 who isn’t afraid to show off what’s her’s, even if it means having other people look at you. she isn’t afraid that they’ll take you, but it makes her feel powerful having you cling to her while dressed all cutely. she especially loves when men stare at you because then she inwardly mock them—wish you were a girl now, yeah?
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 when out and flaunting you, she likes to keep her hands pressed against your hips. ellie’ll stand right behind you wherever you are, kissing the side of your neck or just murmuring into your ear as you drink. when you start talking to other’s, she’ll gently caress the side of your stomach with the tips of her fingers; knowing that you’ll shiver beneath her.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 makes you breakfast every single morning even when she has to get up at the ass crack of dawn to work. she’d never leave her girl hungry or to fend for herself. your relationship with ellie is very 50/50 and you constantly do things for one another. but, ellie will always go above and beyond for you. she would rather baby and take care of you than you take care of her.
𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒔 who lets you dress her up. when it’s time to buy a new pair of jeans or a couple t-shirts that she absolutely cannot wear to work, she always puts you in charge. she knows you love it. your fascination for clothes and fashion makes your face light up anytime you’re attempting to pick out an outfit she’ll look good in. ellie basks in it. now, this.. this is the attention and care she wants.
main tag list : @rodysnm @mimisafemme @elliewilliamskisser2000 @perfectscissorsmoneyzonk @elliespup @blu-berry45 @ki19iva @sophislover @user77091025 @amoravelee @defnothzel @thatredheadloserlesbian @koraszi @ihatepeanutss
Summary: College!Ellie x fem!reader ~ Ellie breaks your heart when you finally confront her about wanting more but she eventually realises it was never really casual between you two.
Ellie had always been good at keeping things light.
She was the girl who sat too close in the library, who let her knee bump yours under the table and never moved it away. The one who stole fries off your plate and then licked the salt from her thumb while watching you. She called you ‘baby’ in that low voice of hers whenever you rolled your eyes at her, and ‘pretty’ when you were concentrating, and ‘sweetheart’ when you were soft and tired after long days. Sometimes, late at night after a party or long study session, she’d walk you back to your dorm and pause at the door like she was thinking about something.
A lot of those nights she kissed you.
Nothing rushed. Just soft, lingering presses of her mouth against yours that left you dizzy and hopeful. She’d smile after, a little crooked, thumb brushing your cheek, and say something like “Night, pretty girl,” before walking away like it hadn’t meant anything more than fun.
Only it started feeling like more.
Ellie was constantly touching you. A hand on the small of your back when you walked through crowded hallways. Fingers hooked in the belt loop of your jeans while you waited in line for coffee. Her chin hooked over your shoulder when she looked at your notes, breath warm against your ear as she murmured, “You’re doing so good, baby.” She got quietly possessive in ways that made your stomach flip, shooting looks at people who stood too close, tugging you into her side with a casual “she’s with me,” even though she never called you her girlfriend.
You started spending more evenings in your dorm than anywhere else, with your roommate constantly at her boyfriend’s apartment you had most nights to yourself. Knowing this, Ellie would show up with takeout or a movie already picked out, kick her shoes off, and pull you down onto the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. You’d end up half in her lap more often than not, her arm around your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns under the hem of your shirt while the laptop played something neither of you were really watching.
Tonight it was a random comedy neither of you cared about. You were sideways across her thighs, back against her chest, her hand resting heavy and warm on your bare thigh where your shorts had ridden up. Every so often she’d lean down and press a slow kiss to the side of your neck, soft enough that it made you shiver. You could feel her smiling against your skin whenever you did.
You laughed at something on the screen, then tilted your head back to look at her.
“So when are you finally going to take me out?” you asked, voice light, teasing. Completely unaware.
Ellie’s hand stilled on your thigh.
“What do you mean?”
You grinned, shifting a little in her lap. “You know. On a proper date. We do all this shit and you still haven’t wined and dined me. Kinda rude, honestly.”
You felt the nerves kick in when Ellie carefully moved your legs off her lap.
She stood up without a word, reached for the hoodie she’d thrown over your desk chair, and pulled it on. The shift in the air was immediate. When she looked at you again the soft, open expression was gone.
“I don’t know what you think this is,” she said, voice flat, “but it ain’t that. We’re not dating. And I don’t intend to be dating you.”
The words landed like a slap.
You sat up straighter, the smile completely dying on your face. “Oh. Right. Of course. My bad.”
Ellie hovered for a second like she might say something else, then just muttered, “I should go. Early lecture,” and left before you could respond.
The door clicked shut behind her. The movie kept playing to an empty room before you shut the lid with more force than necessary as your eyes welled with tears or heartbreak and embarrassment.
After that she pulled back completely.
No more lingering touches. No more pet names. No more showing up at your door with food and that crooked little smile. In class she still nodded at you if your eyes met but the easy closeness was gone. You told yourself it was fine. You told yourself you should have known better than to hope.
You didn’t feel fine.
You sent a couple of texts after a few days of radio silence.
Hey, you okay?
Miss hanging out
Both went unanswered. After a week you stopped trying. The hopeful part of you curled up and went quiet. You threw yourself into assignments and late night study sessions and told your friends you were just busy.
In a Friday night during the second week, your friend dragged you to a frat party you had zero interest in. You went anyway, mostly so you wouldn’t spend another night staring at your ceiling. You were two drinks in, standing near the makeshift bar with a plastic cup, when Abby Anderson drifted over. She was tall, confident, easy with a smile. She leaned in when she spoke. She touched your arm when she laughed. It felt nice to be wanted, even if it was temporary.
You didn’t notice Ellie across the room at first. She was leaning against the far wall with a couple of people, beer in hand, expression unreadable. But she saw you. She watched the way Abby tilted her head and smiled, the way you smiled back. Something tight and ugly settled in Ellie’s chest and refused to leave.
She left early.
The next few days Ellie found herself looking for you everywhere, the steps outside your lecture buildings, the cafe you frequent, the old tree you two would sit under between lectures. When she finally spotted you across the library, head bent over a textbook, the familiar pull was stronger than she expected. The moment you caught sight of her making her way over to you however, you quickly packed up your staff and brushed past her to the exit, not even blinking in her direction.
She realized, with sinking clarity that the easy, no strings version of you hadn’t been enough. She wanted the real thing. She just hadn’t known it until she’d shoved you away and winning you back would be harder than she thought.
Since her first attempt of approaching you ended in you practically sprinting away from her she went with texts.
Can we talk?
I fucked up
Please
Your replies were short when they came at all.
Busy
It’s fine
Don’t worry about it
When she asked if you wanted to grab food you answered, sorry, I’m meeting up with someone. It was a lie. You were going back to your dorm to rewatch the same comfort show for the third time that week.
Ellie showed up at your apartment on a rainy Thursday night two weeks after the party.
You opened the door and froze.
She was standing there in a damp hoodie, hair a mess, holding a slightly crushed bouquet of flowers in one hand and a woven basket in the other. Inside the basket you could see the exact brands of chocolate and chips you liked, the ‘boujee’ soda you’d mentioned once in passing, a pack of alcohol markers, two adult coloring books, and half hidden under the snacks, a soft brown Jellycat bunny you’d pointed out in a shop window months ago and called adorable Ellie had snorted at the time and said it looked stupid.
She remembered anyway.
You eyed the basket and the flowers, arms crossed tight over your chest, and stepped back just enough to let her in. You didn’t offer to take anything from her, she was lucky you even opened the door.
Ellie set the basket and flowers on your desk table carefully then hovered near the door, prepared to leave the second you ask to her.
“I know I don’t deserve you letting me in,” she started, voice rough. “I know I was an asshole. I led you on and then I panicked the second it felt real and I said the worst possible shit and then I ghosted you like a pussy. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix it and I keep fucking up the approach so I just… showed up. With all the shit I could remember you liking. Including the dumb rabbit. Because I listen to you even when I’m being an idiot.”
You stared at the Jellycat and felt your throat get tight.
Ellie kept going, quieter now. “I thought I didn’t want anything serious. Then I watched someone else make you smile and I wanted to put my fist through a wall. I miss you. I miss the way you fit against me when we’re doing nothing. I want to take you on actual dates and hold your hand in public and not pretend this is casual when it never was for me. Not really.”
The silence stretched.
You finally looked up at her, eyes already stinging. “You really hurt me.”
Ellie’s face softened even more. “I know baby.”
“You made me feel stupid.”
“I know baby.”
Your voice cracked. “And I’m trying really hard to hate you right now.”
Ellie took a slow step closer. “You should hate me sweetheart.”
She reached up carefully, giving you every chance to pull away, and cupped your face in both hands. Her thumbs brushed the tears that had started slipping down your cheeks. You let her. The fight drained out of you all at once.
When she leaned in you met her halfway.
The kiss was soft at first, apologetic, careful, then deeper when you made a small sound against her mouth and fisted your hands in the front of her hoodie. Ellie walked you backward toward the bed without breaking the kiss, shedding the hoodie along the way. She eased you down onto the mattress like you were something delicate and hovered herself over you.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered between kisses. “Let me make it feel better. Please.”
She undressed you slowly, pressing open mouthed apologies to every inch of skin. When she finally settled between your thighs she looked up once, eyes loving and sincere.
“Pretty girl,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
She took her time.
Soft, thorough strokes of her tongue on your cunt, slow and deliberate, like she was trying to erase every sharp word she’d thrown at you. She eased two fingers inside only when you were wet and open for her, curling them gently while her mouth stayed locked on your clit.
Every time you gasped or moaned out her name she praised you,quiet, constant. “That’s it… you’re doing so good for me baby… so pretty when you say my name…”
She didn’t rush. She built you up carefully, apologising with her mouth and hands until the only thing left in your head was the heat of her and the steady rhythm of her fingers.
When you came it was with a broken moan, thighs trembling around her head, hands tangled in her hair. Ellie worked you through it like she had all the time in the world, only easing off when you twitched from oversensitivity.
She crawled back up your body afterward, kissing you long and soft before settling beside you and pulling you into her chest.
“I’m not going anywhere this time,” she said against your hair, voice low and certain. “I mean it sweetheart.“
You gave her a small nod, curling closer into her side as she pressed soft kisses to your forehead, the hurt was still there. You knew you had a lot to talk about but for now you took the momentary bliss and soft promises.
Vi was insatiable. Her mouth needed to be on you religiously. Either she was kissing you, lips crashing into yours or she was eating you out as if her life depended on it.
“It’s all mine,” she whispered like she was possessed, her words slurred together like she was drunk when she was not.
Her mouth was on your pussy tonight and she didn’t seem like she planned to breathe at all. Her tongue shoved inside you, nose colliding with your clit every time she tried to push her face deeper between your legs.
“Vi— Violet,” your hole clenched around her tongue uselessly, “slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”
She grunted and needily licked your juices up. She was so fucking devoted to this, she was worshipping you.
Vi spat on your cunt and licked it all up again, groaning at the taste like you were some sort of exquisite meal.
“Ffffffuck!” She parted your pussy lips with her thumbs and pushed her tongue inside again.
The pleasure was too much.
You arched your back and moaned aloud. Toes curling from pleasure.
“Vi…”
“Shut up. Don’t say anything. Please…” she wrapped her toned arms around your waist, trapping you down as she continued slurping on your cunt— the need to remain between your legs maddening.
A/N: Tysm everyone for 300 followers <3 I'm so so appreciative and grateful for everyone's support! As promised here is our 300 follower celebration piece I really hope you guys enjoy it!
Requested? No.
𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃
You’re already half undressed on the bed when Ellie and Abby flank you, both looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. Ellie has that sharp little smirk she gets when she’s competitive, Abby’s expression is calmer but no less intense, jaw set like she’s already decided she’s going to win whatever quiet game the two of them are playing tonight.
“She’s been thinking about this all day,” Ellie says to Abby, voice low as she cups your jaw and turns your face toward her. “Look how worked up she is already.”
Abby hums, sliding a hand up your bare thigh. “Then we should take care of her. Properly.”
They move in sync without really meaning to. Ellie kisses you first, deep, claiming, tongue sliding against yours, while Abby’s mouth finds the side of your neck, sucking a slow mark just under your ear. You feel Abby’s fingers slip between your legs, stroking over your cunt through the thin fabric of your underwear. Ellie breaks the kiss only long enough to watch, eyes dark.
“Already wet,” Abby murmurs against your skin, pressing more firmly. “Good girl.”
Ellie makes a quiet, competitive sound and reaches down, batting Abby’s hand aside just enough to tug your underwear down your legs herself. The second you’re bare she settles between your thighs like she belongs there, pushing your knees wider.
“My turn,” she says simply, and drags her tongue through your folds in one long, deliberate stroke.
You gasp. Abby doesn’t give you time to recover. She shifts up the bed, captures your mouth again, and slips a hand under your bra to roll one nipple between her fingers. Ellie eats you out with intense hunger, tongue circling your clit, two fingers sliding into you without warning. The stretch makes your hips buck as Abby swallows the sound you make and kisses you harder.
“Fuck Ellie! Abby- I-” Abby cuts your moans off with another kiss, smirking as the hand that’s not in Ellie’s hair flies to the back of Abby’s head.
“Listen to her,” Abby says to Ellie against your lips. “She’s already loud and you’ve barely started.”
Ellie answers by curling her fingers and sucking your clit at the same time. Your back arches and you let out a long moan. Abby laughs softly and continues to play with your tits while Ellie works you open with her mouth and hand.
It doesn’t take long. Ellie knows exactly how to get you there and when you come it’s with a broken whimper into Abby’s mouth, thighs shaking around Ellie’s head. Ellie keeps licking you through it, slower, until you’re twitching.
Ellie sits back on her heels, mouth shiny, looking far too satisfied.
“One,” she says.
Abby raises an eyebrow. “Cute. Move.”
Ellie lets her. Abby takes her place between your legs, but she doesn’t go straight for your cunt. Instead she hooks her hands under your thighs and pulls you closer, then leans down and gives you a slow, filthy kiss right over your sensitive clit, tasting what Ellie left behind. You whimper. Abby hums and starts eating you out with broader strokes, firmer pressure, two thick fingers pushing into you and working in a steady rhythm that makes your toes curl.
Ellie watches for a moment, then decides she doesn’t like being left out. She strips off her shirt, leaving her in just her sports bra and grabs the harness she’d left in the nightstand, and starts buckling it on with efficient movements. The thick silicone cock bobs as she tightens the straps. When Abby finally lifts her head, mouth wet, Ellie is ready.
“My turn again,” Ellie says.
Abby wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and shifts up scoffing, letting Ellie have her fun as she sits against the headboard, pulling you with her so your back is against her chest. She spreads your legs for Ellie with her own, holding you open. Ellie kneels between your thighs and presses the head against your entrance.
“You ready princess?” she asks, eyes locked on yours.
You nod. Ellie pushes in slow, giving you every inch until she’s buried to the hilt. The stretch is perfect. Abby’s hands slide down to your hips, steadying you, while Ellie starts thrusting in deep, controlled strokes that make the headboard creak. Abby’s mouth finds your neck again, kissing and nipping while one hand drifts lower to rub your clit in time with Ellie’s thrusts.
“That’s it,” Abby murmurs in your ear. “Take her cock. Look how well you open up for us.”
You whimper, tears filling your eyes as you lean back into Abby’s chest. “So deep!” You manage to get out, Abby smirking into your hair.
Ellie fucks you harder at the praise, like she’s trying to prove a point. “She takes it better for me,” she mutters, but there’s no real heat in it, just the edge of rivalry. She leans down and kisses you messy while she drives into you, the wet sound of it filling the room. Abby keeps rubbing your clit, relentless, until the second orgasm crashes through you. You clench hard around her cock, crying out, causing Ellie to groan and Abby to chuckle.
“Two,” Ellie says, sounding smug before pulling out carefully.
You barely have time to catch your breath before Abby is manoeuvring you onto your hands and knees. She moves behind you, already wearing her own harness. Ellie sits in front of you, back against the headboard, the strap still slick from being inside you.
“Come on, clean me up,” Ellie says, voice rough, guiding your head down.
You take her strap between your lips while Abby lines up and pushes into you from behind in one smooth thrust. The immediate sensation after such an intense orgasm makes your arms shake. Abby sets a steady, powerful rhythm, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, while you suck Ellie as best you can between broken moans. Ellie fists a hand in your hair, not forcing, just holding, watching you with dark eyes.
“Good girl,” she praises, thumb brushing your cheek. “Look at you. Stuffed full of both of us.”
Abby leans over your back, one hand sliding under you to play with your clit again. “She’s so fucking wet,” she tells Ellie. “Dripping down my thighs.”
They keep you like that for a while, Abby fucking you deep and steady in doggy, you sucking Ellie with messy and overstimulated enthusiasm. You take them, eyes watering even more, while Abby pushes your back further down towards the mattress so that your ass is higher. The angle is intense. Every snap of her hips drives the strap against that sweet spot inside you. Ellie watches your face the whole time one hand stroking your hair as you look up at her with wide, watery eyes.
“She’s close again,” Ellie says, almost conversational.
“I know.” Abby says as she continues to rub your clit in tight circles. “Come on. Give it to us baby.”
The third orgasm hits like a wave. You moan around Ellie’s strap, thighs trembling violently, cunt clenching hard around Abby. Tears spilling from your eyes as you clench them shut. Abby fucks you through it without slowing, chasing her own pleasure now, while Ellie keeps the strap in your mouth until the worst of the shaking passes.
“Three,” Abby smirks.
They switch again without much discussion. Ellie lies back and pulls you on top of her into reverse cowgirl, guiding her cock into you once more. You sink down with a broken sound, overwhelmed and oversensitive. Abby kneels in front of you, kisses you deeply, then reaches down to where you and Ellie are joined, fingers spreading you open so she can watch the strap disappear inside you with every bounce.
“Ride her,” Abby encourages, voice low. “Show her how good you can take it.”
You do so with a sob. Ellie grips your hips from below and thrusts up to meet every movement, the wet slap of skin loud in the room. Abby stays close, one hand gripping your hair, the other rubbing your clit whenever Ellie bottoms out. The rivalry is quieter now, replaced by shared focus, both of them determined to wring another orgasm out of you.
It doesn’t take long. The fourth one builds slow and heavy, then crashes through you so hard your arms give out. You collapse forward into Abby’s chest, still impaled, shaking. Ellie holds you there, fucking up into you in short, deep strokes while you come, murmuring rough praise.
Abby strokes a hand down your back. “Pretty,” she says softly. “So fucking pretty when you fall apart.”
They ease you onto your side after that, giving you a moment. Ellie presses kisses to your shoulder while Abby fetches water and makes you drink. You’re still trembling, cunt throbbing, when Ellie catches Abby’s eye over your head.
“One more?” Ellie asks.
Abby nods, cooing at you when you whine, overstimulated, but not safe wording. Feeling both floaty and determined to give them one last orgasm.
They manoeuvre you onto your back. Abby settles between your legs, throwing one of your legs over her shoulder and pushes back into you in one smooth, deep thrust. The angle makes you squeal and squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath as Abby gives you a few minutes to adjust and for your breathing to even out before she grips your hips and starts fucking you properly, steady, powerful strokes that drive you into the mattress.
Ellie watches for a second, then unbuckles her own harness and shoves it aside along with her boxers. She sits back against the headboard, legs spread, and crooks two fingers at you as you look back at her.
“Come here.”
Abby doesn’t leave your pussy helps as you shift backwards on shaking arms, moving with you until you stop and rest your cheek on Ellie’s thigh, twisting your body slightly so you’re on your side and coming face to face with her heat. Ellie fists a hand in your hair immediately, firm, possessive, and pulls your mouth onto her cunt, the vibrations of your moans on her making her hips buck into your mouth automatically.
“That’s it,” she says, voice low and controlling as she guides your head exactly where she wants it. “Eat my cunt sweetheart.”
You lick into her, tasting how wet she is, neck straining as you go to town while Abby keeps fucking you with deep, long, strokes. Ellie doesn’t let you set the pace. She holds your head in place with that tight grip in your hair, rolling her hips up against your mouth, using you. Every time Abby bottoms out you moan against Ellie’s cunt and Ellie answers with a rough, satisfied sound.
“Good girl,” Ellie murmurs, fingers tightening in your hair. “Just like that. Keep your tongue on me while she fills you up.”
Abby leans over you, one hand sliding down to rub your oversensitive clit in tight circles. The dual sensation is overwhelming, Abby’s strap pounding into you, Ellie’s cunt against your mouth, Ellie’s hand controlling every movement of your head.
“She’s close,” Abby pants, hips snapping harder.
“I know.” Ellie’s voice is dark, dominant. She pulls your face tighter against her, grinding against your tongue. “Come on. Give it to us. Come while you’re eating me and taking her cock.”
The orgasm hits hard and messy. You cry out against Ellie’s cunt, thighs shaking, clenching tightly around Abby’s strap. Abby curses and fucks you through it without slowing, chasing her own peak. Ellie keeps your head locked in place, hips rolling against your mouth until she comes too, quiet but intense, thighs trembling on either side of your head, hand still fisted possessively in your hair as she rides it out on your tongue.
Abby follows seconds later with a low groan, burying herself deep and staying there while your body continues to twitch between them.
For a long moment the only sound is the three of you trying to catch your breath.
Ellie eventually loosens her grip on your hair and strokes her fingers through it instead, gentler now. Abby eases out of you carefully. You’re shaking, oversensitive to the point that even the cool air against your skin makes you twitch.
They move quietly. Abby grabs a warm cloth and cleans you up with slow, careful movements while Ellie dresses you in her shirt she had discarded earlier, tucking the blanket around your exhausted body.
You’re already half asleep when you manage a soft, slurred, “Did I do good?”
Ellie brushes damp hair off your forehead, voice low. “You did perfect.”
vi x reader wedding night smut, based on this request. 18+ so help me god!!!!
content: reader wears a wedding dress, gets called sweetheart and princess, and is also fingered to oblivion. they’re in love idk what else to say.
the moment the reception ends, you’re on her. in the car, through the hotel lobby, the elevator ride to your room. she finds it hard to complain, though. the elevator door slides open. vi tries to take a step back, but you don’t let her, arms wrapped her neck, blinking at her doe-eyed. you press up against her, leaning in as if for a kiss. you stop, leaving just a hair of space between you two.
“where are you going?” you ask, lips ghosting against her own. you’re not slurring, but all the champagne has lent a dreamlike quality to your voice.
“this is our floor,” she says, biting back a laugh. she adjusts the slipping strap of your dress. “come on.” she grabs you by the hips and turns you, leading you forward towards your hotel room. “let’s get you in bed.”
it’s a blissfully short walk. she hands you the keycard, and you toss her a glance over your shoulder that makes her ears go hot. you step into the room, but vi stays back, just for a moment, so she can admire the sway of your hips. she leans into the doorframe, head cocked, as you bend over to take off your shoes.
you turn, glossed lips pressed in a pout. “what’s wrong?” you ask.
she grins. “everything’s perfect.”
you smile back, and extend a hand she takes eagerly. the door slams shut behind her, and you walk her back up against it. she lets you, lets your hands slip under her lapel to push off her jacket, lets you pull her in by the tie for another kiss. you unbuckle her belt, but when you move to kneel she stops you.
“bed, sweetheart.”
you let out a sigh, loud and melodramatic, but shuffle further into the hotel room. you shoot her a dirty look as you do, but god-willing, she’ll only have the one wedding night. she wants to do it right. rose petals, candles. a matress. there will be plenty of time for quick fucks in doorways.
you lay back on the bed and stare at her expectantly. you’re a vision. an incredibly impatient vision. you reach back behind yourself to get the zipper of your dress, and vi rushes forward.
“i got it,” she says, sliding the zipper down for you. it catches, so you twist to make it easier, and she kisses your shoulder in thanks.
you kick the dress to the side, and lay back again. she doesn’t realize she’s been staring until you speak.
“are we waiting for something?” you ask.
“what? no, no, sorry.” she doesn’t move, only runs a hand through her hair as her gaze follows the line of your body lower.
your brow furrows, and you draw your arms around yourself. “do you not want--”
she knows what you’re going to say, and the idea is laughable. before you can finish the question, vi’s on you.
you’re so warm and soft she can feel it through the fabric of her dress shirt. her hands drift to your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. she nudges her way between your thighs, and she feels you lock your ankles behind her.
she pulls back, panting. “i always want you.”
your lips are kiss-bitten and your chest is heaving. she tugs down the lace of your bra, and finds herself frozen again, focused on the plush of your tits, framed in white lace.
you arch under her, fingers digging into her back, willing her to move. “you keep staring,” you complain, still half breathless.
“it’s your fault. look too pretty.” her mouth is dry, and for a moment she has no idea what to do next, where to look, where to touch. you help her out, pulling her head down closer to your chest. she leans in to suck one pert nipple in her mouth.
you sound pretty too, the noises that escape you when she scrapes her teeth against the bud, or when she squeezes your other breast, or when she slips one hand into your panties to find you dripping.
you’re wet in a way that has her head spinning, that has her ego ballooning three sizes and has her mouth watering. but she’s doing this right, so instead of ripping your panties off and bullying her fingers in with no preamble just to hear you whine, she kisses you again, sweet and deep.
she rubs a knuckle against your clit and you sigh into her mouth. she’s melting, all warm and gooey, because this is the rest of her life. you’re hers, and she’s yours, forever and ever.
“i love you,” she says, head laid against your chest, where she swears she can hear your heart beat just a little faster. you say it back, and roll your hips. she can take a hint.
she pulls down your panties, slow. she likes this pair, and she likes the way you’re writhing with impatience underneath her even more. she drops a kiss right below your belly button, and hears you swear under your breath.
she kisses lower, then lower still. “love this fucking pussy,” she mumbles, which may not be the most romantic thing she could have said, but it’s honest, which has to count for something.
she’s so close now she can practically taste you, and patience has never been her strong suit. she’s shocked she’s been able to hold out this long. she places a quick kiss to your clit before sliding two fingers inside you.
the way you gasp as you try to accommodate the stretch makes her forget that this was exactly what she didn’t want to do, that she had wanted to go slow, to take her time.
“fuck, vi,” you whine. she wriggles up, maneuvering so she can keep her fingers inside you as she kisses up your throat.
“you’re so tight, princess,” she groans, and you clench around her further at the words. she curls her fingers as she asks, “you like that?”
she knows you do, but she wants to hear you say it. and you do. again and again and again.
paring: clarisse la rue x daughter of apollo!reader
description: for years, you and clarisse walked a thin line between cheap taunts and open contempt. tired of being her favorite punching bag, you decided to pull away completely, you vanished from trainings, dodged every confrontation, stopped responding altogether. the silence broke her. without you there to provoke or challenge, clarisse’s rage exploded unchecked, turning the whole camp into a minefield. but during capture the flag, what started as a deadly fight between two furious souls, ended up becoming a moment of raw confession.
warnings: enemies to lovers; blood; insults; and a very hot kiss (english isn't my first language, sorry in advance!)
a/c: first of all, happy new year! and second, i've been stuck on this writing for over two weeks and only realized how long it had become when i finished, but i'm obsessed with this woman so i forgive myself for that. enjoy the reading!
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The summer afternoon at Camp Half-Blood was one of those that felt lazy and suffocating. The sun beat down hard on the lush green hills. You were sitting on the wide porch of cabin 7, leaning against one of the golden columns that gleamed as if Apollo himself had polished them. The wooden planks under your legs were warm from the sun, almost burning the skin through your worn jean shorts.
Your fingers fiddled absentmindedly with the string of a bow leaning beside you, winding and unwinding the thick cord, as if that repetitive motion could undo the tight knot you had felt in your chest for weeks. And it had a name.
Clarisse La Rue.
Just thinking the name made your heart give an annoying leap, an explosive mix of pure anger and a frustration that gnawed from within. She had been pursuing you like a stubborn shadow since the day you arrived at camp, with sharp provocations like blades, burning stares, pushes that seemed calculated to throw you off balance.
She labeled you "princess of the sun," as if being a daughter of Apollo were an unforgivable weakness, something soft and useless in a world of monsters and wars. And you always fought back. With cutting words, with constant presence in training, with a stubbornness that bordered on masochism. Because stopping would mean admitting defeat. It would mean she was right. But what gnawed at you the most was not just the anger. It was that treacherous confusion, a feeling you buried deep, but that surfaced in moments like this.
Sometimes, in the intervals between blows, you swore you saw something in her brown eyes, a gleam that was not pure contempt, an almost imperceptible hesitation before she turned her back and marched away. As if she were fighting against something she did not even understand herself. And that drove you crazy. Because you hated not understanding. You hated feeling that, deep down, those constant fights were the only thread connecting you both.
And it only got worse in that last training session.
The camp seemed swallowed by the storm. The sky was so low and gray that it gave the impression the clouds were touching the treetops, and the rain fell in thick curtains, almost solid, turning the training field into a living swamp. The tall grass had already become a slippery carpet of reddish-brown mud, and every step produced a wet, sucking sound.
The air smelled of soaked earth, wet iron, and wet pine, the classic scent of a bad day at camp. In the background, the colorful cabins looked like blurred ghosts through the water running incessantly down the roofs.
You were in the center of that chaos, sword in your right hand, the handle slippery even with the leather strip you had wrapped to improve grip. The orange camp t-shirt was stuck to your skin like a second cold layer, the fabric heavy with rain and sweat. Your hair clung to your forehead and cheeks, dripping water into your eyes with every blink. You had already lost count of how many times you wiped your face with the back of your muddied hand.
On the other side of the improvised combat circle, Clarisse seemed untouched by the rain. Water ran down the reinforced bronze armor, down the muscular arms, down the curly brown hair she wore tied in a tight ponytail, but even so not losing its volume. The electric spear hummed low, a sound almost inaudible under the drumming of the rain, as if the weapon were eager.
She held the shaft with the naturalness of someone born with it in her hands. There was no tension in her shoulders, no hurry in her feet. Just that predator posture waiting for the right moment.
"Ready for another round, princess of the sun?" her voice cut through the noise of the water, hoarse and low, loaded with a mockery that was already almost routine.
You did not answer with words. You just adjusted the grip on the sword, bent your knees to lower your center of gravity, and advanced.
This time, you were not as impulsive as in the previous weeks. You had spent the last nights training alone in the woods, repeating sequences that Luke taught you in the morning classes: high feint, low cut, wrist twist for counterattack. It was not enough to turn the tide against a daughter of Ares with a divine spear, but it was enough not to fall in the first seconds.
You faked a strong descending blow to her right shoulder. Clarisse raised the spear to block, exactly what you wanted. At the last instant, you twisted your wrist, changed the blade's trajectory to a horizontal cut at her left ribs. The movement was faster than previous times. The tip of the sword grazed the bronze of her armor, producing a hiss of metal being scraped.
Clarisse grunted, a short sound of genuine surprise. She stepped back half a pace, swung the spear in a wide arc to keep distance, and counterattacked with a low thrust, aiming at your thigh. You sidestepped, let the tip pass inches from your leg, and responded with an upward blow, targeting the forearm holding the spear.
Metal clashed. Blue sparks jumped from the point of contact, Ares's spear reacting to mortal steel. The impact traveled up your arms like a shock wave, but you held your stance, did not retreat. For the first time in weeks, you felt you were really fighting, not just surviving.
"Better," she admitted, voice neutral, almost as if commenting on the weather. But there was a new gleam in her brown eyes. It was not pity. It was interest.
You did not let the compliment go to your head. You advanced again, combining two quick cuts, one high, one low, to force her to defend in sequence. Clarisse blocked the first with the spear shaft, deflected the second with the tip, and twisted her body in a movement that seemed rehearsed. The spear shaft came like a lateral whip, aiming at your temple.
You ducked your head at the last second. The shaft whistled overhead, brushing the top of your head and pulling out some wet strands. The movement left you exposed for an instant. Clarisse did not waste it: she advanced with a direct thrust to the chest.
You crossed the sword in front of your body, blocking the spear with the flat of the blade. The impact was brutal. Your feet slid half a meter in the mud, your knees buckled, but you held. You pushed back, using leg strength to gain space, and counterattacked with a wide circular blow, targeting her shoulder.
She deflected with ease, but you saw it: the movement was a little slower than usual. She was really exerting herself now.
You circled each other for long seconds, breathing heavily, the rain hitting your faces like cold needles. The field around had gone silent, the other campers stopped pretending to train and formed a distant semicircle, watching.
You attacked again. High feint with the sword, followed by a low kick to unbalance. Clarisse jumped back, but the kick grazed her shin. It was not strong enough to hurt, but enough to make her frown.
"You've been training in secret," she said, almost like an accusation.
You did not answer. You just advanced once more, sword swinging in a descending arc that forced Clarisse to raise the spear diagonally to block. The clash was so strong you felt your teeth grind. But this time, when she tried to counter with the spear tip, you were already moving: you twisted to the side, let the thrust pass, and landed a shallow cut on her left arm, nothing deep, just enough to tear the t-shirt sleeve and leave a red scratch on the skin.
Clarisse stopped. Looked at the cut. Then at you.
For the first time in a long while, her face was not just a mask of indifference. There was something there, irritation, yes, but also a flash of reluctant respect.
You felt your chest rise and fall quickly. It was not victory. Far from it. But it was… something. Something that made the blood run hotter despite the freezing rain.
And then she attacked for real.
The spear became a blur. Quick, precise thrusts, forcing you to retreat, block, dodge. You managed to keep up longer than ever, dodged three, blocked two, counterattacked once. But Clarisse was a force of nature. In a movement you barely saw, she swung the spear shaft in a low arc, swept your legs with surgical precision.
The ground came up to meet you. You fell on your back in the mud, the air leaving your lungs in a painful whoosh. The sword slipped from your hand, sinking into the puddle a few meters away. You rolled to the side, coughing, trying to prop yourself on your elbows. Your whole body ached, ribs, shoulders, lungs, but it was not just physical pain. It was the weight of weeks accumulated, of showing up every day, of fighting back, of feeling that inexplicable pull that brought you back to her even when everything screamed to stop.
Clarisse stopped above you, spear pointed at the ground, drops running from the tip like metal tears. She did not speak right away. She just looked at you. Long. As if trying to understand something.
But you knew she had exhausted her sympathy for that day.
"Do Apollo kids get weak without sunlight or do you just fight badly?"
You lay there, in the cold mud, the rain pounding your skin as if Zeus himself were unloading his fury on the camp. The clay stuck to your back, cold and sticky, and every breath came in irregular puffs, your chest burning with exhaustion and humiliation.
Your hands trembled as they braced on the slippery ground, fingers sinking into the puddle, and you raised your gaze to Clarisse, teeth clenched so hard they hurt. Those words echoed in your head like a monster's echo in the labyrinth. As if you were just another joke, a second-class demigod who could not handle it without her father's shine to light the way.
Anger rose like bile in your throat, hot and bitter, mixing with the taste of rain and earth. You hated this, hated how she saw you, as if your affinity for bow and arrow made you useless in a real fight. Apollo kids healed, prophesied, shot from afar, but up close? In Clarisse's world, that was weakness.
And there, under the clouded sky that blocked any ray of sun, you felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the whole camp were watching your defeat. You knew the curious eyes were fixed on you both, the Ares bully and the Apollo daughter who could not defend herself.
"Do you think it's funny?" you spat the words, voice hoarse and broken as you struggled to stand.
Your knees buckled for a second, but you rose, ignoring the throbbing pain in your legs and the tingling in your arms. The sword lay a few meters away, half sunk in the mud, and you grabbed it with a quick motion, gripping the handle as if you could squeeze the frustration out.
"Using me as a damn punching bag since I got here." The frustration was noticeable in your voice. "I'm not your toy, Clarisse."
For a fleeting instant, something you almost missed in the rain blur, her brown eyes flashed with a glimpse of dissatisfaction, a subtle and imperceptible flicker, as if seeing you there, muddied, was not the trophy she expected. It was as if a shadow passed behind that armor of coldness, an echo of reluctance, as if humiliating you was not her choice, but a curse from Ares, the god who demanded victories at any cost.
She blinked, and the moment vanished, swallowed by the rain, leaving only the impassive bully as always.
"Then go back to your bow, sun daughter," she shot back, voice low and emotionless, raising the spear again to guard position. "Or keep trying. Does it make a difference?"
As you stood there, sword in hand, staring at Clarisse under the incessant rain that turned the training field into a muddy swamp, her words echoed in your mind like the clang of an anvil in Hephaestus's forge. Of course it made a difference, at least for you.
That rivalry had not arisen from nothing; it was like a wound that slowly infected, accumulating layers of resentment since the day you stepped into Camp Half-Blood. You gripped the sword handle tighter, ignoring the tremor in your arms, and for a second, old memories flooded your head, feeding the anger that kept you from retreating.
But you could not get lost in them now, not with the rain still falling and Clarisse waiting for your next move; you felt all that history weighing on your shoulders and your heart tightening.
"It does make a difference. For me, it does." Because no matter how much you did not understand the reason, you wanted it to make a difference for her too.
And then you let the sword slip through your fingers, following the flow of the rain running down your arms. Clarisse raised one eyebrow, for the first time showing a reaction different from the indifference you were used to seeing. The blade sank into the mud, and then, placing one hand over your ribs, you turned your back, starting to limp away.
But Clarisse would not let it go.
"Is that it? You're going to quit the fight like a coward?" her voice was loud, the hoarse timbre followed by a thunderous crash soon after.
You did not answer, your eyes narrowing as you struggled to stay steady in your walk. Legs weak, feet sticking in the mud as if it were there to increase your humiliation.
"Apollo daughter, I order you to come back! Pick up that sword and fight me." The shiver that ran down your spine made you stop the slow limping. You could hear the whispers of the other campers, all gathering around the commotion forming.
They must have thought you crazy for defying the orders of the Ares daughter, but you were tired. Not of Clarisse. Even against everything you believed, you would never tire of her, but you were tired of living this vicious cycle that led nowhere.
Then, turning slowly and painfully, your eyes met hers. They were sharp, disgusted, and fierce. Jaw clenched, fingers whitened around the spear from the force gripping it. It was anger.
"Find someone else, La Rue. I'm done." And with that, you left for good, bumping into some campers while hearing Clarisse's howls, the ones she shouted to the four winds about how you were a coward just like the other sun children.
You accepted the coward title she yelled at your back. Because, this time, giving up was not weakness. It was survival.
You let out a long, heavy sigh, throwing your head back against the warm column, eyes half-closed against the golden light filtering through the leaves of nearby trees. The camp was still dotted with some puddles that were slowly evaporating, and the distant sound of laughter and sword clangs in the training field echoed as a reminder that camp life went on, indifferent to your internal turmoil.
It was then that light but determined footsteps climbed the porch steps. You opened your eyes and saw Annabeth approaching, her braids tied in a practical ponytail. She carried a clipboard full of scribbled notes, strategies probably, because Annabeth never stopped planning.
Without ceremony, she sat beside you on the step, crossing her legs and observing you for a long moment with those stormy brown eyes that seemed capable of dissecting any puzzle.
You felt the air grow a little heavier. Annabeth was not the type to show up for small talk.
"You're making that face again," she said at last, voice low and direct, cutting the silence like a dagger. "Like you want to strangle someone with your bare hands. Let me guess: Clarisse?"
You snorted, a sound that came out more bitter than intended, and looked away to the distant fields, where tiny campers picked strawberries under the relentless sun.
"When do I not want to strangle her?"
Annabeth tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made you want to fidget, but you stayed still, fingers tightening the bow string harder. There was a long pause, the kind of silence that weighs, loaded with expectation.
"But never for real." She started slowly, choosing words as if building a perfect trap. "You know, I observe people. It's what I do. Strategy, patterns, weaknesses. And there's one thing about Clarisse that I can't ignore."
Your stomach twisted. You raised an eyebrow, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out tense.
"What? That she's an unbearable bully?"
Annabeth gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, but did not answer right away. Instead, she leaned a little closer to you, lowering her voice as if the air itself could listen.
"She provokes you more than anyone here. Way more. It's not just casual bullying. It's… obsessive. She shows up out of nowhere just to poke you. Watches you when she thinks no one notices. And when you fight back?" Her eyes gleamed with something between amusement and seriousness. "She seems… alive. Like that's the highlight of her day."
You felt heat rise up your neck, hot and treacherous, and crossed your arms over your chest as if you could contain the turmoil starting to form inside you. The sun seemed more intense suddenly, burning the skin.
"That's crazy, Annabeth. She does it because I'm an easy target. Apollo daughter, bow and arrow, healing… everything Ares kids despise."
"No." The word came firm, sharp, making you turn your face to her. Annabeth did not blink. "With others, it's quick. A shove, a threat, and she moves on. With you… she prolongs it. She invents reasons to meet you in the training field. She stays after everyone leaves, just for one more round. And those looks…" She paused, letting the words hang in the hot air. "It's not just hate. It's something she doesn't know how to handle."
Your heart beat harder, an irregular drumming echoing in your ears.
"What exactly are you insinuating?" You swallowed hard, feeling your throat dry despite the air's humidity.
Annabeth raised her hands in an innocent gesture, but the smile on her lips was sly.
"I'm not insinuating anything definitive. Just saying it might be an interest she doesn't know how to express. Ares kids are raised for war, for brute conquest. More… subtle feelings? They have no tools for that. So they turn it into fight. Into provocation. Into anything that keeps the person close. Instead of asking you for a walk in the woods… she knocks you down in the mud and calls you weak. It's her way of saying 'hey, you matter.'"
The words hit like an arrow to the chest. You felt the air escape for a second, the world around blurring, the sun, the distant sound of laughter. Everything reduced to that absurd, impossible idea Annabeth had just planted. Your face burned, and you let out a dry, forced laugh that came out strangled and too loud in the porch silence.
"Impossible," you said, voice sharper than intended, shaking your head vehemently. "Out of any consideration. Clarisse doesn't like anyone besides herself and the glory of battle. She's just a bored bully seeking attention. And I… I give her rope for it. I show up, I fight back, I stay there taking hits every day. That's why she insists. If I really ignored her, she'd get tired quickly and find another toy to break. And that's what I'm doing now."
The words came out quick, defensive, as if saying them aloud could convince her, and yourself. But Annabeth just watched you for another long moment, brown eyes penetrating, as if seeing through your armor of denial.
"Skipped training today?" She asked with narrowed eyes, and you looked away to your feet. "You know what Chiron thinks about you skipping sword practice."
"I know! But I just… need some time from Clarisse, away from her." Your answer was frustrated, your hands slapping your thighs nervously. "Because I know if she calls me I'll go, and I can't do that anymore."
The silence stretched, tense and heavy, the sun beating on your back like an additional weight. Finally, she shrugged, standing with fluid grace and brushing imaginary dust from her cargo pants.
"Maybe it'll work," she said, voice neutral, but with a tone suggesting the opposite. "But it's only a matter of time until she comes looking for you, because one thing I know: nobody spends so much time and energy trying to knock down someone who means nothing."
She descended the porch steps slowly, footsteps echoing on the wooden planks, leaving you alone once more. The sun continued relentless, the strawberry scent sweeter than ever, but now everything seemed distant, muffled by the buzzing in your ears.
You tried to laugh at the idea. Tried to bury it deep, as you did with everything that destabilized you. But deep down, Annabeth's idea terrified you. You just did not know in what sense.
[...]
The sun of the following morning rose lazily over Camp Half-Blood, filtering through the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the training fields. The air still carried the damp coolness of the previous night, mixed with the smell of dew on the grass and the distant sound of birds singing.
You were on the way to the training field, your feet sinking slightly into the still soft earth, the quiver of arrows bouncing against your back with every step. You knew you could not skip training forever, so you decided to end it once and for all.
After the conversation with Annabeth, and that seed of doubt she had planted, you had decided it was time to change. To pull away. To stop feeding it. But the process was slow, as if every fiber of your body still wanted to turn and face the challenge that Clarisse represented.
You saw her from afar, as always: standing in the center of the combat circle, the electric spear spinning in her hands as if she were bored, the curly hair tied in a ponytail with tight braids that could not tame all the rebellious strands. She wore the bronze armor, marked by old scratches, and her brown eyes scanned the field like a predator waiting for prey.
When she spotted you approaching, something changed in her posture, her shoulders straightened, her mouth curved into a short smile that was half mockery, half anticipation. Clarisse did not smile, except for this kind of smile. She took a step forward, blocking your path with the naturalness of someone who commanded the ground.
"Hey, princess of the sun," her voice came out hoarse, loaded with an authoritative tone you knew well. "Didn't show up yesterday… running from me? Let's double the bet, see if you learned anything from the last beating."
You stopped a few meters from her, feeling the sun hitting your back like silent encouragement. Your heart raced, but you swallowed the impulse to retort with a barb. Instead, you shook your head slowly, your voice coming out low and different from what you were used to.
"Not today, Clarisse." There was a brief but heavy silence, like the air before a storm.
Her eyes narrowed, the remnant of that smile dying on her lips. You saw the muscle in her jaw tighten, a subtle sign of discomfort that she rarely let slip. Clarisse was not used to refusals, especially not from you, who always showed up, always bit the bait.
"What?" She tilted her head, as if she had not heard right, stopping the spear spin and resting it on her shoulder, the low electric hum echoing in the air. "You heard me. Come on. Grab the sword."
The insistence came as expected, the tone sharper now, loaded with a frustration she tried to mask with authority. You felt a tightness in your chest, part guilt, part hesitant relief.
"No. Find someone else today." Without waiting for a response, you walked around her slowly, your feet moving with a deliberation that seemed forced, as if your body wanted to stay.
You headed to the adjacent archery range, where straw targets swayed lightly in the breeze, ignoring the weight of her gaze on your back.
Clarisse stood there for a long moment, her fingers gripping the spear shaft so hard that her knuckles whitened. She hated being ignored, hated the feeling of something slipping out of her control, like a battle turning for no apparent reason. But she pretended not to care.
She huffed loud enough for you to hear, turning to a group of nearby campers and barking an order for an improvised training.
"You there! Line up. Let's see if anyone here is worth anything." Her voice came out rougher than normal, but she marched away, pretending the refusal did not bother her.
Deep down, however, it burned, a spark she did not know how to extinguish.
The afternoon dragged on hot and stuffy, the high sun turning the dining pavilion into an outdoor oven. You were sitting at the table of cabin 7, the plate of salad and cheese almost untouched, the fork spinning absentmindedly in the food while your siblings chattered about the next capture the flag.
That was when Clarisse passed by your table, flanked by two Ares siblings who were laughing at some inside joke. She stopped abruptly, leaning over the table with one arm supported, the woody smell of her soap and metal invading your space.
"What happened to you, princess of the sun?" she said, voice low and provocative, eyes fixed on yours as if waiting for the usual spark. "Tired of taking a beating and decided to hide behind the bow like a coward?"
You raised your gaze slowly, feeling the old impulse to respond with venom rise in your throat. But you swallowed it, forcing a soft tone, almost neutral, as if commenting on the weather.
"Maybe. But I'm fine like this, thanks." No barbs, no anger. Just a tame response that slipped like water.
Clarisse blinked, the mockery freezing on her face for a second. She expected the fight, needed it in a way, to feel that things were in place. But there you were, responding without biting the bait, without giving the fuel she wanted. Frustration rose like bile, but she did not externalize it: she straightened slowly, her lips curving into that same forced smile that did not reach her eyes.
"Fine. Have fun with your little arrows." She turned and marched away, steps heavier than necessary, leaving an uncomfortable silence at the table. Deep down, it gnawed at her, as if you had stolen something from her without effort.
The following days passed in agonizing slowness, and you saw the effects seep into Clarisse in subtle ways, like slow poison. At first, it was almost imperceptible: during group training, she attacked with more ferocity than normal, the spear spinning in a blur that left opponents breathless.
But then came the first real explosion, during combat with an Ares sibling, she did not hold back the blow, the spear tip tearing his skin and leaving a deep cut on his arm.
"What the hell is this, Clarisse?" the boy shouted, pressing the wound as blood ran. She just grunted.
"Even the coward Apollo kids don't whine like you," but her eyes were distant, the anger not directed at him.
The explosions multiplied over the days: yelling at campers who made silly mistakes, punches on training bags that echoed louder than necessary, and she had become quieter during meals, she who always dominated conversations with battle stories, now stayed silent, chewing food with her gaze fixed on the Apollo cabin table. Her siblings exchanged nervous glances, whispering that "she's worse than normal," but no one dared confront her.
One afternoon, the air was heavy with the buzz of insects and the distant echo of laughter from younger campers playing near the lake, but on the porch of cabin 6, where you and Annabeth were sitting, the atmosphere was quieter, almost introspective. A light breeze stirred the pages of Annabeth's notebook, which she held firmly, ink-stained fingers tracing lines and diagrams. The smell of dry earth and pine resin hung in the air, mixed with the polish you used on your bow, an oily and familiar aroma that calmed your nerves.
Annabeth was leaning forward, her brown eyes shining with that calculating intensity that made her the best strategist at camp.
"So, I talked to Luke earlier," she began, turning a page with a quick gesture. "He thinks we can turn the game in the next capture the flag if we mix the teams in an unexpected way. The Ares kids will expect a heavy defense on the eastern border, as always, but we're going to infiltrate a quick hunt through the western flank…"
She drew an arrow on the paper, the pencil scraping against the surface.
"And that's where you come in. It's time to abandon that bow a little. I'm putting you on the hunt, you're fast, precise, and can cover ground without making noise."
You were sitting on the step beside her, the bow balanced on your lap as you passed the soft cloth over the curved wood, feeling the smooth texture under your fingers. The movement was rhythmic, almost meditative, a welcome distraction from the thoughts that stubbornly returned to Clarisse. Upon hearing Annabeth's words, you could not help a low laugh, the sound escaping soft like a breeze, without raising your eyes from the bow.
"You sounded like Clarisse just now," you murmured, voice low and casual, but with a subtle note of something more, perhaps nostalgia, perhaps contained irritation. Clarisse always picked on your bow, calling it a "coward's weapon," as if only close combat was worthwhile.
Annabeth stopped writing at the same instant, the pencil freezing in the air. She raised her gaze slowly, analyzing you as if you were a puzzle to be solved, shoulders slightly tense, the way your fingers gripped the cloth for a second longer than necessary. The expression on your face had changed: the corners of your mouth curving downward almost imperceptibly, eyes shifting to the horizon instead of meeting hers.
"Speaking of Clarisse…" Annabeth said, tone neutral, but with sharp curiosity behind it. She closed the notebook slowly, crossing her arms over it as if preparing for a deeper conversation. "I heard a Hermes kid say earlier that he saw her punching trees last night after curfew. Those near the forest edge. He said she seemed… possessed. With a lot of anger."
You felt a tightness in your stomach, as if an invisible arrow had hit dead center. Your expressions changed before you could control them, eyebrows furrowing for an instant, lips pressing into a thin line. You swallowed hard, the sound audible in the silence that followed, and shrugged, forcing your shoulders to relax as you returned to polishing the bow with more deliberate movements.
"Oh, really?" The words came out casual, but you kept your eyes fixed on the bow, as if the polishing required all your attention. "Clarisse angry doesn't seem like news to me."
Annabeth narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly to the side, like an owl assessing prey. She knew you too well to let it pass.
"You're worried," she said, voice low but firm, no beating around the bush. It was a statement, not a question, loaded with that sharp perception that made her annoyingly accurate.
You laughed again, but this time the sound came out forced, as if laughing at something ridiculous, an inside joke that was not funny. You shook your head, still without looking at her, the cloth sliding faster over the wood.
"Holy shit, you are!" Annabeth shot back, eyes widening a little in genuine surprise, mixed with a trace of amusement. She leaned closer, the notebook now forgotten on her lap, as if the conversation had taken a more interesting turn than any capture the flag tactic. "I mean, I already imagined you were but seeing it happen right in front of me is another thing."
You paused for a second, fingers freezing on the cloth, but soon resumed the movement, slower now.
"I don't care what Clarisse does or doesn't do," you said, voice distant, as if talking about something trivial, like the weather or the dinner menu. "She can punch whatever she wants. Trees, people, whatever. It's not my problem." You shifted your gaze to the distant field, where campers trained with swords, the metal clang echoing like a distant reminder.
Annabeth huffed softly, a sound that was half frustration, half affection. She leaned back against the porch pillar, crossing her legs and watching you with that calculated patience.
"You know, I said maybe your idea of pulling away would work. Maybe. And maybe isn't certainty. Look at what's happening, she's exploding all over the place, you're here pretending not to notice… pretending very badly by the way. But it might be that ignoring doesn't put out the fire like you think it will, but actually just makes it burn slower. Or worse, spread."
You felt her words seep in like a seed planted in the fertile soil of your mind, but you shook your head again, forcing a smile that did not reach your eyes.
"Annabeth, seriously. Let's get back to the tactics?" You changed the subject with trained naturalness, returning to polish the bow with more vigor, as if the words could be erased by the repetitive motion.
She hesitated for a moment, eyes still fixed on you, as if deciding whether to insist or not.
"Okay, okay. But can I say one last thing?" She leaned toward you, trying to meet your eyes, and when she did, she continued. "Pretending you don't feel won't make the feelings go away."
You did not answer, blinking slowly and taking time to shift your eyes from Annabeth, pretending to return attention to your bow. She sighed, giving up, opened the notebook again, and turning the pages with a sharp gesture, continued her line of reasoning.
"Fine, Luke told me about a new route that…"
But as she continued, talking about positions and traps, you felt that seed germinating deep in your chest, an uncomfortable doubt, a worry you did not want to name.
The conversation repeating in your head like a persistent echo. Annabeth had planted it there, and no matter how much you denied it, you knew it would not disappear so easily. The sun continued to descend, lengthening the shadows across the porch, and the camp followed its rhythm, oblivious to the quiet turmoil forming inside you.
What was the daughter of Ares doing to you?
[...]
The day of capture the flag dawned with the rising sun tinting the treetops orange and pink, filtering through the branches in beams that danced on the dew-wet ground. The air was charged with anticipation, the smell of pine mixed with the sharp metal of weapons being prepared and the nervous sweat of the campers. The teams gathered at the edges of the forest: the blue team, led by Annabeth and Luke, and the red team, by Clarisse.
You felt the weight of the light armor on your shoulders, the sheathed sword at your side, missing the weight of the bow on your back, a reluctant commitment to Annabeth's plan to put you on the hunt, far from safe arrows.
"Blue team, positions!" Luke shouted, the plumed helmet swaying as he adjusted his shield.
You waved to him from afar, taking command of the hunting group on the front line: a handful of agile campers, including Hermes kids and some younger ones from Apollo and Athena, all with eyes shining with excitement.
The Camp Half-Blood forest swallowed them as if it were a living and hungry entity, the ancient twisted trunks of oaks and pines forming natural corridors of deep shadow, where the midday sunlight barely pierced the thick canopy of leaves.
The ground was covered by an uneven carpet of dry leaves and broken branches that creaked treacherously under boots, betraying every step. Further ahead, the stream that divided the territory into two sides murmured low, like a constant warning: crossing the water meant enemy territory, and whoever carried the opposing flag back to their own side won. Traps were scattered everywhere.
"Advance slowly, cover the flanks," you ordered, voice low but firm, cutting the tense silence like a celestial bronze blade.
The knot in your stomach tightened with every second, it was not exactly fear, but the sharp awareness that, in that moment, everyone there was both hunter and prey. The enemy flag was hidden somewhere in the depths, protected by traps, sentinels, and probably Clarisse and her Ares squad thirsty for blood.
Your mission was simple and brutal: distract, delay, wear down the opposing team for as long as possible, give your side a chance to advance.
You nodded to your group. They did not hesitate: they nodded back, spreading out in a fan formation, silent as shadows. Camp training did that to you: it turned teenagers into something lethal, almost instinctive.
You went alone eastward, moving like one of Artemis's hunters, light feet, controlled breathing, every muscle alert. The heart beat in a steady rhythm, synchronized with the distant echoes of battle: the muffled clang of swords clashing, short cries of surprise, the occasional snap of a trap being triggered.
A sudden rustle to your right made you freeze in place. Your hand flew to the sword hilt, fingers closing tightly on the worn leather grip. You held your breath, ears attuned to the slightest noise. The leaves moved again, slowly, deliberate, as if something (or someone) was testing the ground. The air seemed heavier, the pine smell now mixed with sweat and metal.
You approached centimeter by centimeter, body low, back brushing the rough bark of a tree. Your pulse thundered in your ears. One more movement in the foliage, and you leaped to the side, sword unsheathed in a fluid arc, ready to cut whoever it was.
But from the middle of the bushes emerged Percy Jackson, also in combat stance, Riptide already extended in his right hand, the celestial bronze blade gleaming with a cold, almost watery shine, as if capturing nonexistent light. His sea-blue eyes, always so expressive even in chaos, widened for a fraction of a second before recognition hit. You both lowered your weapons almost at the same time, metal scraping lightly against the air.
"Oh, it's you," you both said in unison, the words coming out in a relieved breath that turned into a low, nervous laugh. Your chest still rose and fell quickly, adrenaline running through your veins.
Percy ran his free hand through his messy blond hair, sweaty and disheveled as always, and gave a crooked smile, one of those that made the whole camp seem less dangerous for a moment.
"Almost cut you in half, dude. Thought it was one of those Ares brutes coming to hunt me again." He capped Riptide back into pen form with a familiar click, but kept his eyes alert, scanning the forest around. "Listen… Clarisse is loose out there alone. Really alone. She dismissed her platoon. She's got a look that… I don't know, like she wants to destroy anything that moves. Be careful, okay? She's fiercer than normal, and that's saying something."
You felt a shiver run down your spine. Clarisse La Rue alone? That did not add up. She was the type who led by shouting orders, wielding the electric spear like an extension of her own arm, always with half a dozen Ares siblings behind her. But the rumors of Clarisse's bad mood had been piling up for weeks, so for some reason you were not surprised. You shook your head, pushing the worry to the back of your mind.
"Thanks for the warning, Percy." You gave a half smile, trying to sound confident, but he knew you too well. He tilted his head, blue eyes studying you for a second longer, as if he could see through the facade.
"Hey," he said, even lower, taking a step closer. "If you need backup, yell. Or whistle that ridiculous way you do. I'll find you." He gave a light punch to your shoulder, the casual and familiar gesture that always reminded you why you had survived so many things together, monsters, prophecies, sleepless nights. "And don't go playing the lone hero, okay? We've done that before and almost turned into hydra barbecue."
You laughed low, the sound muffled by the forest.
"You don't go throwing yourself at everyone like last time, Seaweed Brain. Someone has to pull you out of the water when you overdo it."
He rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed, genuine and warm amid the tension.
"Deal." He waved once, already turning to the shadows. "Good hunting."
And then he vanished among the trees, as silent as he had arrived. A shadow of blond strands blending into the forest green.
You took a deep breath, adjusted the sword in your hand, and advanced again, deeper still. Percy's warning echoed in your head like an unspoken prophecy, but you pushed it all to the corner of your mind. Focus on the mission. The enemy flag was waiting. And Clarisse, wherever she was, probably too.
The forest closed around you again, alive, watchful, and you pressed on.
It did not take long for another noise to alert you: a muffled shout, followed by the clang of metal and a fierce grunt. You ran toward it, branches whipping your face, heart racing. Bursting into a small clearing, the scene hit you full force.
Clarisse, with the electric spear humming in the air, facing a younger camper, a blue team boy barely out of childhood, with eyes wide in terror. He was one of the distractions in Annabeth's strategy, a harmless bait to draw enemies into traps. But Clarisse was not playing fair. Her brown eyes burned with blind rage, face twisted in a snarl, and she advanced like a bull, spear raised for a blow that was no joke.
"Clarisse, stop!" you shouted, but it was too late, she lunged, the spear cutting the air with an electric hiss.
Without thinking, you threw yourself forward, stepping in front of the child like a living shield. Your sword rose in a quick arc, colliding with her spear in a crash that echoed through the clearing, sparks flying where metal met metal. The impact reverberated through your arms, muscles protesting against her brute force.
The child blinked, stunned, and you barked an order without taking your eyes off Clarisse.
"Run! Go to Annabeth, now!" The boy did not hesitate, stumbling away as he vanished into the forest.
Clarisse stepped back one pace, arm muscles flexed under the armor, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Her eyes fixed on yours, a mix of surprise and bitterness gleaming in them.
"Oh, so now you want to fight?" she spat, voice hoarse and bitter, as if the words were accumulated poison. "Tired of running?"
You kept the sword raised, feet planted firmly on the soft ground, feeling the vibration of the impact still running through your arms.
"What is happening to you?" you shot back, voice firm but loaded with a concern you could not fully hide. "He's just a kid!"
"What is happening to you!" Clarisse growled back, lunging with brutal force, the spear spinning in a skillful arc that forced you to retreat, blocking the blow with a clang that reverberated through the trees.
She was a force of nature: every movement precise, fueled by a rage that seemed to come from within, broad shoulders moving with lethal grace despite the fury. You counterattacked, your sword cutting the air in an attempt to disarm her, but she deflected with ease, the electric hum of the spear increasing like a warning.
The fight intensified, the clearing ground turning into a chaos of stirred leaves and foot marks. Clarisse attacked without mercy, her thrusts strong enough to make your arms ache with every block, she spun the spear like an extension of her own body, alternating between high and low strikes, forcing you to dance in circles to avoid the electric contact.
Her curly hair escaped the tight braid, sticking to her sweaty face, and you noticed her hands. They were wrapped in white bandages stained with dirt and dried blood. It was not just rumors about her punching trees.
"He doesn't deserve your fury!" you shouted between one block and another, trying to penetrate her wall, spinning to the side and counterattacking with a lateral blow that she parried with an animalistic grunt.
She huffed, eyes narrowed into slits of pure rage, lunging again with a series of quick strikes that made you retreat to the trees.
"Shut up! You don't know anything!" The words poured out like venom, cold and cutting, without a hint of explanation, just raw rage, as if every syllable was another weapon. Another spear spin, and you felt the air crackle near your shoulder, the ozone smell mixing with sweat and earth.
You tried to press, not just with the sword, but with words.
"What is making you like this?" But she remained cold, an impenetrable wall, responding only with more thrusts, more growls.
"It's none of your business! Just fight or get out of the way!" The fight continued, the sun filtering in intermittent rays over you, the sound of metal against metal echoing like a personal duel amid the greater chaos of capture the flag.
Deep down, you knew this went beyond the game; it was something that had been fermenting for days, a spark Annabeth had predicted, but that now burned uncontrolled between you two.
The fight intensified with every breath, the clearing air charged with the metallic smell of sweat and ozone from Clarisse's electric spear. She attacked with growing fury, the blows coming faster, heavier, as if each thrust was an attempt to crush not just your defense, but something deeper within herself.
"You think you can judge me?" she snarled, hoarse voice echoing among the trees, spinning the spear in a wide arc that forced you to jump aside, your sword blade scraping against hers in a high-pitched hiss. "After hiding like a coward behind a stupid bow and arrow?"
Her brown eyes were dark, almost black with rage, teeth clenched in an expression of pure contained hatred, but you saw beyond, saw the cracks in that emotional armor she wore like a second skin.
You blocked another blow, feeling the impact reverberate through your arms, and shot back with sharp words, using her rage as an opening.
"Judge? I'm trying to understand, Clarisse!" Your voice came out firm, provocative, knowing she was not the type to sit and talk about feelings. "You're destroying yourself out there, punching trees, hurting campers who don't deserve it."
She huffed, the muscles in her bandaged hands gripping the spear shaft so hard you heard the leather creak. Clarisse hated vulnerability; rage was her native language, and you would use it to pull something from her, even if in pieces.
"Shut that mouth! You know nothing about me!" Another blow came, brutal, the spear cutting the air with an electric hum that made the surrounding leaves tremble.
She was angrier now, movements losing some of their usual precision, replaced by brute force that made the ground shake with every step. You dodged by inches, counterattacking with a lateral blow that she parried with an animalistic grunt, eyes blazing.
"You disappear like a coward and now want to play therapist? Go to hell!"
The fight became increasingly wild, the rhythm accelerating like an uncontrolled heart. Clarisse lunged without pause, her breathing heavy and irregular, sweat running down her face and mixing with the curly strands. You felt exhaustion starting to weigh, but persisted, blocking and retaliating, words coming out between the metal clangs.
"So that's it? Rage because I got tired of being your punching bag? Or are you going to keep pretending you're just a bad-tempered Ares daughter?" She did not really answer, just more coldness, more closure, lips curling in a sneer of disdain as she attacked again, the spear spinning in a blur that forced you back against a tree.
And then came the blow that changed everything. Clarisse, blinded by a fresh wave of fury, perhaps from your words poking too deep, spun the spear with demonic speed, the tip grazing. The impact knocked your helmet off, which flew aside with a crash, rolling through the damp grass.
A sharp pain burned your cheek, a superficial cut you felt immediately, warm blood slowly trickling down your skin. You froze for an instant, hand flying to your face, fingers coming away stained red. The world seemed to pause, the forest sound muffled, heart pounding in your ears.
Clarisse stopped too, eyes widening for fractions of a second, spear still raised in the air. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, face pale under the layer of sweat and dirt, as if the blood on your face had pulled her from the rage fog. She blinked, jaw locked, but said nothing, just a cold, loaded silence, as if fighting against something internal threatening to escape.
It was not visible remorse, not yet; it was a hesitation, a crack in the wall she built.
You raised your gaze slowly, eyes burning with a mix of pain and determination, the cut throbbing like a living reminder. With a deep sigh, you brushed away the strands of hair falling on your face in a majestic way, the gesture slow and deliberate, like a goddess recomposing herself after battle. The sun filtered through the treetops, illuminating the blood on your skin like a war mark.
"Fine," you murmured, voice low and resolute, echoing in the tense silence. "It'll be your way then."
Without hesitating, you threw the sword to the ground with a dull clang, the blade sinking into the soft earth. Clarisse blinked again, surprise freezing her expression for a moment, her eyes narrowing in confusion, the spear still in a defensive position, as if she could not believe what she was seeing. She was a statue of contained fury, muscles tense but motionless, waiting for the next move.
And you did not make her wait. You lunged at her with bare hands, feet propelling you forward in a fierce leap. Clarisse raised the spear instinctively, the electric hum increasing like a warning, but you were faster, grabbed the shaft with both hands, feeling the vibration run through your arms, and used the momentum to push her back.
The impact unbalanced her, her feet slipping on the damp grass, and she fell on her back with a heavy thud, the air escaping her lungs in a surprised grunt.
You straddled her body in an instant, legs locking hers to the ground, hands still gripping the spear and pressing it against Clarisse's neck. The pressure was firm, not lethal, but enough to immobilize her, the cold metal brushing her skin. She struggled for a second, eyes blazing with renewed rage, but you held her in place, the weight of your body and the determination in your eyes anchoring her.
Clarisse grunted again, teeth clenched, bandaged hands pushing back with brute force, but she remained closed off, cold as ice, without uttering a word about why, just more rage pouring out in stares and silent growls, as if admitting anything would be a greater defeat than the fight itself. The clearing seemed smaller now, the world reduced to the two of you, trapped in that clash that went beyond swords and spears.
Clarisse began to thrash beneath you with renewed strength, arm muscles tensed to the maximum, bandaged hands pushing the spear shaft away from her neck. Her body writhed like a cornered animal, legs trying to free themselves from yours, chest rising and falling in heavy gasps.
A low growl escaped her throat, pure fighting instinct, eyes still burning with that endless cold rage. The spear vibrated between you, the electric hum crackling like a threat, but you maintained the pressure, forearms trembling from the effort.
"Clarisse, stop!" Your voice came out louder than intended, trembling in the middle.
She continued for another second, teeth clenched, face red from effort, but then something changed. Her eyes, those brown eyes that always seemed to challenge the entire world, caught the wet gleam in yours. Tears. Not many, just enough to blur your vision, to run hot down the cut on your cheek and mix with the blood.
You had not even realized they were there until that moment.
"Please, just stop!" Your voice broke on the last words against your will.
Clarisse faltered. The strength in her arms diminished suddenly, as if someone had cut the strings keeping her tense. The spear slipped a few centimeters to the side, its weight now inert against the ground. She stopped thrashing. Stopped fighting. Lay there, on her back in the damp earth of the clearing, chest still panting, eyes fixed on yours, but now without the wall of ice, just raw confusion, almost frightened, that she tried to hide behind controlled breathing.
"Since you won't talk, I'll talk." You said, voice hoarse and intense, the cut on your cheek still bleeding, drops falling onto the bronze of her armor.
You let out a shaky sigh, slowly easing the pressure on the spear, but without getting off her. You could not. Not yet. The words came then, as if they had been waiting for that exact moment of silence to escape, one after another, without filter, without long pauses.
"I saw you, Clarisse. I always saw you. You, in the center of the training circle, spinning that spear as if the world were too small for you. I hated it, hated how you looked at me as if I were just easy prey, as if I were worthless beyond arrows and safe distance. We fought, we provoked each other, we hated each other… or at least that's what I thought it was. All that rivalry, that fire that ignited every time you opened your mouth to call me princess of the sun or coward. I came back. Always came back. Even knowing I'd take a beating, even knowing you'd laugh in my face. I came back for you."
Your voice lowered, almost a whisper, but the words kept coming, heavy, inevitable.
"I didn't know what it was about you that pulled me back. It wasn't just anger, not just wounded pride. It was… more. I needed to be on your radar, Clarisse. Needed you to see me, to challenge me, to not let me go unnoticed like you do with the others, those newbie campers who arrive, try to impress, and then become just another face in the crowd for you. I didn't want to be forgotten. Not by you. No matter how much it hurt to take hits, no matter how much you made me feel small… I came back because deep down I couldn't stand the idea of you erasing me from your mind."
You swallowed hard, feeling another tear escape, but did not wipe your face. Let it fall.
"You can think I'm a fool. You can think I'm masochistic, crazy, whatever. I don't care. But I found out that, in the end, I just… care about you. Really care. Seeing you destroying yourself like this, exploding at everyone, letting that rage eat you alive inside, it hurts me too. Hurts me more than any blow you've ever given me in training. Because I know there's something inside you that's not just fury. I know there is. And I can't pretend anymore that I don't see it."
The silence that followed was dense, almost palpable. The forest around seemed to hold its breath, no birds, no wind, just the distant and muffled sound of capture the flag continuing without you. Clarisse remained motionless beneath you, eyes still fixed on yours, jaw locked, but now without strength, without defense. She said nothing. Did not deny, did not confirm, did not explode. Just breathed, lips parted as if the words were there, stuck, but unable to come out.
You waited. Waited for her to say anything, an insult, a growl, a "get off me." But she just looked, and for the first time since you had known her, Clarisse La Rue seemed completely, painfully, without armor.
Clarisse continued lying under you, body still tense like a drawn string, but no longer fighting. The spear lay loose between you, the electric hum reduced to a low murmur, almost inaudible. Her chest rose and fell in short, irregular breaths, as if each inhalation hurt.
The brown eyes, always so sharp and challenging, now stared into yours, widened in a way you had never seen before: it was not anger, not mockery. It was something rawer, more exposed. Fear, perhaps. Or the panic of someone who had just been truly disarmed.
She blinked once. Twice. The locked jaw trembled slightly, a muscle pulsing at the corner of her mouth. You felt the heat of her body through the armor, the sweat sticking the fabric to her skin, her heart beating so fast it seemed to want to break through her ribs. Clarisse swallowed hard, the sound loud in the clearing silence, and looked away for a second, as if facing you was too much. But soon returned, because running away was never her style.
The bandaged hands, which before pushed with brute force, now lay motionless at her sides, fingers slightly curved as if wanting to grasp something that did not exist. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened again. No sound came out. Her throat worked visibly, as if the words were there, jammed, burning.
You saw the exact moment her tears threatened to come. Her eyes grew brighter, the inner corners reddening subtly. But Clarisse La Rue did not cry. Never. Instead, she pressed her lips so hard they turned white, nose wrinkling in a grimace of pure effort to stay whole. A low sound, almost a muffled groan, escaped from deep in her throat, not from physical pain, but from something much deeper, something she had buried under layers and layers of anger, pride, and fear.
"You…" The voice came out hoarse, broken, as if unused to saying such things for years, perhaps never.
She stopped immediately, clenching her teeth as if she had betrayed herself. Her eyes scanned your face: the cut on your cheek, the dried blood mixed with tears, the strands of hair stuck to your skin. Something in her expression broke a little more. Guilt, perhaps. Or recognition.
Clarisse turned her face to the side, looking at the trees as if they could offer an escape. Her breathing trembled now, more shallow.
"Damn…" she murmured, so low you almost did not hear. It was the most vulnerable voice you had ever heard from her, without armor, without mockery, without shield. Just Clarisse. Raw. Scared.
She looked back at you, and this time did not look away. Her eyes were wet, but the tears did not fall, she would not allow it. Because Clarisse does not cry.
"You can't… just say those things," she whispered, voice failing in the middle. "You can't come here, knock me down, make me…" She stopped again, fists clenching at her sides, nails digging into palms even through the bandages. "It's not how it works."
But she did not push you away. Did not thrash. Did not yell. Just lay there, pinned under you, breathing the same heavy air, her eyes saying everything her mouth refused to release: that you had hit the mark, that she felt the same emptiness when you pulled away, that the rage of the last days had been her trying to fill the hole you left. That she also did not want to be forgotten. That, in some twisted and brutal way, you were too important to her.
A muffled sigh escaped your lips, not quite knowing if it was from surprise, from exhaustion after the near-deadly fight minutes before, or from relief. Your hands were trembling, still hesitant as you slowly moved the spear away from Clarisse, your posture straightening over the daughter of Ares, sitting on her stomach. The weapon slipped from your fingers to the side of your bodies, falling to the grass- and dry-leaf-covered ground.
Both too absorbed to care about the intimate position. Clarisse breathed deeply, chest trembling. Slowly, you began to move, hands bracing on the ground beside her to stand, as if giving space was the next logical step, the inevitable end to that exposed vulnerability.
"Fine," you murmured, voice soft, almost resigned.
But before you could fully rise, her hands acted. Hesitant, as if she herself did not know if she could, or should, do that. The bandaged fingers closed around your waist, firm enough to stop you from going, but without the usual brutality. It was not the confident grip with which she handled the spear, which seemed a natural extension of her body, a weapon forged to destroy.
It was something new, trembling: palms brushing the bronze armor, before lowering to your hips uncovered by the protection, thumbs pressing lightly against the fabric of your clothes, as if testing the ground of an unknown world. You felt their heat for the first time like this, without anger, without provocation, and a shiver ran up your spine.
Unlike what Clarisse might think, that you would stiffen, fight back, or flee, you relaxed into the touch. Your muscles, tense from the fight, softened like wax in the sun. The gaze, which burned with determination moments before, softened into something warmer, more open. A sigh escaped your lips, and you stopped resisting, letting your body weight settle again.
As if instinct took over, without her needing to think, Clarisse raised her torso slowly. The abdominal muscles contracted under you, and she sat up, the movement fluid despite the hesitation in her eyes. Your body slid naturally, from her stomach to her lap, fitting perfectly there, as if it had always belonged.
Your thighs adjusted around hers, faces now dangerously close: breaths mixing, the smell of sweat, earth, and something sweeter, her woody soap, invading your senses. The rebellious curly strands brushed your forehead, and your eyes locked, inches apart, the clearing world reducing to that point.
Still hesitant, as if everything were unexplored territory, she, who did not know how to be gentle, who only knew the world through punches and spears, raised her hand slowly. The trembling fingers hovered in the air for a second, as if asking silent permission, before touching your face. The palm marked by bandages dirty with dried blood brushed the injured cheek with a delicacy that seemed impossible coming from her.
"All I know is how to fight…" she murmured, voice hoarse and low, eyes fixed on the superficial cut she herself had caused.
Her thumb, trembling and hesitant, passed slowly below the wound, tracing around the red line with a lightness that contrasted with all the previous brutality. The pain throbbed, sharp but bearable, and you closed your eyes instinctively, a subtle grimace crossing your face. Clarisse pulled back a little, startled, fingers freezing in the air as if she had burned you on purpose. Her eyes widened, panic returning in a fresh wave.
She had never known how to be gentle, and perhaps she would not learn now.
"And hurt people." She completed, voice failing at the end, as if admitting that was the final blow she did not know how to dodge. "I don't deserve you caring about me."
Clarisse pulled her hand away from your face as if the touch burned her inside, the bandaged fingers moving away slowly, hesitant but decided. The thumb still hovered in the air for an instant, trembling, before falling to the side, as if she feared prolonged contact could worsen the damage she had already done. Her brown eyes, so intense moments before, now avoided yours, fixing on the superficial cut on your cheek.
Before her hand could fully withdraw, you acted on instinct, fingers closing around her wrist, a firm but gentle touch, nothing like the brutality of the previous fight. Her skin was rough under the bandages, hot and pulsing, and you felt her accelerated pulse against your palm, as if her heart was trying to escape.
After so many years on Clarisse's tail, you knew better than anyone that the daughter of Ares had a certain issue with touches. She hated being touched, always yelling around "don't touch me, idiot" or "get your hands off me before I rip them off you." So it was a risk you were taking when, with a smooth motion, you guided her hand back to your face, pressing it lightly against your cheek, ignoring the sting of pain that came with the contact.
"It's not your fault," you murmured, voice low and comforting, like a balm on an open wound. "I should have paid more attention to my rear guard… that's what you always say, isn't it?"
The words came loaded with a sincerity you did not even know you held, eyes fixed on hers, trying to convey that the cut on the skin was nothing compared to what was fermenting in both your chests. You felt her muscles relax a little under your touch, as if that simple gesture had defused a bomb about to explode.
"Clarisse?" you called when no response came from her. "It's not your fault."
This was no longer about the blow that gave you a cut on the cheek, it was about everything. Her angry nature, her drive for victory, her craving for war… and Clarisse felt it.
A strange atmosphere settled then, confused and electric, like the air before a storm you do not know if it will bring rain or sun. Your faces were too close, noses almost touching, breaths intertwining in warm puffs that made loose hair strands dance.
Clarisse's eyes wandered slowly over your face, almost reverent: from the eyebrows furrowed by recent pain, past the lashes wet with unshed tears, to the parted lips, soft and inviting under the filtered forest light.
She swallowed hard, throat working visibly, and for a moment, everything she wanted to say bubbled inside her, how beautiful you were, there, with the sun gilding your skin, eyes shining with a vulnerability that left her breathless. She wanted to say how beautiful you were the first time she laid eyes on you, when she was sure something was wrong with her.
When she decided hating was easier than desiring.
You were beautiful like a sun goddess she always teased, whom she had always seen as something beyond a rival: someone who truly saw her, behind the armor of rage. But the words did not come. Clarisse did not know how to vocalize that without sounding stupid, without turning the moment into something weak or ridiculous. She did not know how to say she was sure Aphrodite's blessing had fallen on you the moment you were claimed.
"You are…" she began, but stopped, lips moving without sound, heart pounding like a war drum that did not know how to pause.
You drew closer slowly, almost without noticing, an invisible magnet pulling your bodies, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw, awkward, as if she did not know how to do this, lips tilting toward each other in agonizing slowness. The world around dissolved: the rustle of leaves in the light wind, the distant song of a bird, the smell of resin and earth, everything reduced to the growing heat between you, to the tingling on the skin where her hands touched.
Your eyes closed instinctively, heart racing as if about to leap from your chest, and you felt her breath brush your lips, hot and hesitant, a whisper of possibility.
But then, the sound echoed through the forest like distant thunder: the summoning horn, deep and prolonged, announcing the end of capture the flag. A victory, for some team, it did not matter which in that instant. The air vibrated with the echo, and at the same time, celebratory voices erupted not far away, cutting the clearing silence like sharp blades.
Hoarse laughter, triumphant shouts: "We got it! Victory for the reds!, and Clarisse immediately recognized them: her cabin siblings, children of Ares, with their rough voices full of warrior pride, approaching quickly through the trees, heavy steps crushing leaves and branches along the way.
Panic flashed across Clarisse's eyes like lightning. She acted fast, instinctive, like the warrior she was: the hands on your waist suddenly tightened, and with a skillful twist, using her own body weight as leverage, she reversed the positions.
You felt the world spin for a second, the soft ground receiving your back with a dull thud, and suddenly she was on top, thighs locking yours, the electric spear fallen to the side, but her body simulating a fighting position: one arm braced beside your head, the other pretending to press as if immobilizing you.
Her curly hair fell like a curtain around your faces, but her eyes, oh, her eyes still burned with that confused fire, a mix of interrupted desire and forced relief.
Just in time, the campers burst into the clearing, a group of sweaty and euphoric Ares children, the blue flag, the enemy team's flag, your team's flag, waving in one of their hands like a conquered trophy.
"Clarisse! We got the flag from those Athena nerds!" one shouted, his broad face splitting into a fierce grin, while the others slapped each other's backs, the air filled with the smell of victory and sweat.
They paused for a second upon seeing you both, but laughed loudly, interpreting the scene as what it appeared: a common fight, Clarisse dominating yet another opponent.
"Hey, look at the boss beating up the Apollo little girl! Good one, Clarisse!"
Clarisse raised her gaze to them, forcing a smile that did not reach her eyes, a sneer of mockery she mastered so well. But before getting up, she looked at you one last time: the brown eyes lingering on yours for an eternal second, full of everything unsaid, of interrupted promises and feelings still boiling beneath the surface. There was a silent plea there, "later," mixed with a vulnerability only you saw.
Then, she rose, accepting the outstretched hands of her siblings, who dragged her into the celebration, slapping her shoulders with strong pats and guttural laughter. You managed to hear a "don't touch me" amid the commotion.
"Come on, Clarisse! Time to rub it in those losers' faces!" They pulled her away, the group moving like a victorious pack, voices echoing farther and farther through the forest.
You lay there, on the damp earth, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. A long sigh escaped your lips, loaded with a mix of frustration, relief, and something sweeter, a timid hope taking root in your chest. You rested your head on the soft ground, feeling leaves stick to your sweaty hair, and closed your eyes slowly, letting the exhaustion from the fight and emotions settle like a fog.
You still felt the tingling on your skin where her hands had touched, the almost-kiss hanging in the air like a persistent perfume, mixed with the smell of sweat and crushed pine. The cut on your cheek throbbed lightly, a sharp reminder of the chaos that had turned into something inexplicable.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the silence, echoing out of nowhere like a whisper from the wind.
"Well, that was... intense." You knew that voice, clear and sarcastic, but without a body to accompany it, as if the air itself was speaking.
You sat up in immediate alert, body rising in an instinctive leap, eyes scanning the empty clearing around: ancient trees with mossy bark, bushes swaying lightly in the breeze, but nothing beyond shadows and leaves. Your heart raced again, a wave of paranoia climbing your spine. Was it a trick? A monster? Until the air in front of you rippled subtly, and Annabeth materialized there, inches from your face, removing the invisibility cap with a casual gesture.
Her brown eyes shone with a mix of amusement and sharp analysis, skin glistening under the filtered sun, long and intricate braids falling over her shoulders like a cascade of precisely woven ropes. She wore the light armor of the blue team, marked by forest dirt, and a crooked smile curved her lips, as if all that was just another piece in a puzzle she had already solved.
You blinked, incredulous, relief mixing with irritation as you processed her closeness, close enough to smell the ancient books and ink that always accompanied her. You rolled your eyes, the exaggerated gesture echoing your frustration.
"Were you there the whole time?" you asked, voice coming out higher than intended, loaded with disbelief.
Annabeth nodded slowly, crossing her arms over her chest with a naturalness only she had, as if invisibility were something banal like tying shoelaces.
"Yes." Simple as that.
You huffed, feeling heat rise up your neck, part anger, part embarrassment at imagining how much she had seen.
"And you didn't think to help me? She could have killed me!" The words came out in an accusing tone, eyes narrowing as you remembered the spear humming too close, Clarisse's blind fury that could have escalated to something worse.
Annabeth raised an eyebrow, smile widening into an air of intellectual superiority that was typically hers.
"Based on my theories and given the result of my plan, she wouldn't do that. Not with you at least. And I knew you could handle it. Only you could tame the incessant fury of an Ares daughter with A LOT of anger." She emphasized the last words with a dramatic tone, as if narrating a Greek epic, gray eyes dancing with a hint of malice.
You narrowed your eyes, suspicion crystallizing like an arrow on target. The air around seemed heavier now, wind whispering through leaves as if mocking your naivety. With a quick motion, you stood from the damp ground, feeling earth stick to your clothes and hair, body still sore from the fight.
"I knew it! You put me on the hunt because you knew I'd run into Clarisse!" you accused, pointing a finger at her, tone mixing indignation and a hint of betrayal.
Annabeth shrugged, the gesture too casual to be innocent, lips curving into an enigmatic smile.
"Maybe?" She tilted her head, braids swaying lightly, as if evaluating your reaction as part of an experiment. "Or maybe it was just a solid tactic. But, hey, it worked, didn't it?"
The clearing seemed smaller now, with the sun descending a bit more, lengthening tree shadows like accusing fingers. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, but Annabeth did not stop there, she took a step closer, eyes fixed on yours with that sharp perception that made her irritating and brilliant at the same time.
"So, tell me: how did it feel to have Clarisse La Rue, the camp bully, daughter of the powerful God of war, melting in your arms?" she asked, voice theatrical, exaggerating each word as if performing a Shakespearean play, hands gesturing dramatically to emphasize, eyes shining with malicious amusement.
It was clearly to irritate you, to poke the fresh wound. You rolled your eyes again, crossing your arms defensively, but the heat on your face betrayed the embarrassment.
"It wasn't exactly like that," you shot back, voice coming out lower than intended, avoiding her gaze as you remembered Clarisse's hesitant touch, her body fitting against yours. The wind stirred the leaves around, as if the forest was chuckling softly.
Annabeth huffed, leaning closer with eyebrows arched in challenge.
"You were about to kiss," she said, straight to the point, tone casual but loaded with certainty, as if declaring a historical fact.
"What? No!" you shouted, eyes widening in shock, blush intensifying until your ears burned.
Shyness invaded you like a wave, stomach churning at realizing Annabeth had seen everything. You looked away to the ground, feeling the cut on your cheek throb like an uncomfortable reminder.
Annabeth watched you in silence for a second, eyebrows raised, lips pressed to contain a smile. She did not press immediately, giving space for the moment to settle, the air between you charged with friendly tension, the distant sound of camp beginning to filter through the forest: muffled laughter, the clang of armor being stored.
You sighed deeply, the sound echoing like a partial surrender, and walked to where your helmet and sword lay on the ground, the blade still shining under the sun, marked by fresh scratches. You picked them up slowly, turning your back to Annabeth as you wiped earth from the grip and then checked the helmet, thoughts spinning like lost arrows.
"Well..." you murmured, turning back with a lost gaze, fixed on a distant point among the trees, where the sun tinted leaves orange. "Maybe I misread it... Clarisse would never do something like that."
The words came hesitant, loaded with doubt, heart tightening with the possibility that it had all been just an adrenaline delusion.
Annabeth approached slowly, light steps on the damp grass, stopping an arm's length away, reaching to take the helmet you held, as if removing the weight from your hands could remove it from your mind. Her eyes softened a bit, losing the provocative tone for a moment of genuine empathy.
"I know what I saw, and you do too," she said, voice low and firm, as if unraveling a puzzle. "You're just scared because it was all a mess... Years thinking you hated each other. You can afford to be confused."
You looked away, eyes lost in the lengthening shadows of the clearing, thinking about her words. Years of provocations, fights, loaded glances that perhaps had never been just hate. The cut on your cheek throbbed again, and you touched it absentmindedly, feeling dried blood under your fingers. Annabeth noticed, and her expression softened even more.
"Hey," she called, voice cutting the thoughtful silence, "let's get back to camp and let your siblings fix that up, you don't want a scar on that pretty face when you go on a date with La Rue." She pointed to the cut on your face with a casual gesture.
"We don't have a date!" You shot back, but Annabeth was already steps ahead.
"But you will!"
You grumbled silently, sheathing the sword at your waist with a dull click, its weight a familiar comfort amid the internal turmoil. You took a step forward to follow Annabeth, who was already turning toward the trail. But something crunched under your boot, a muffled metallic sound from the soft earth, different from the usual snap of dry branches. You stopped immediately, camper instinct alerting to anything out of place in the forest. You lowered your gaze and crouched slowly, fingers brushing damp grass until finding the object: cold, heavy, familiar.
Clarisse's electric spear.
The long shaft was still warm from use, internal mechanism silent now, but with fresh marks of earth and stuck leaves, as if abandoned in haste in the heat of the moment. Probably, in the confusion of reversing positions and the sudden arrival of her cabin siblings, she had completely forgotten it there.
You lifted it slowly, feeling the balanced weight in your hands, a weapon made for destruction, but that now seemed almost vulnerable. The metal reflected the golden light of the sun, and a shiver ran up your spine as you remembered Clarisse's hands gripping that same shaft minutes before, with brute force and, later, with hesitation.
Annabeth, who was a few steps ahead, turned with an impatient expression on her lips, ready to tell you to hurry, something like "Come on, lunch won't wait," but stopped upon seeing what you held.
Her brown eyes widened for a second, immediately recognizing the iconic spear, before a sly smile spread slowly across her face. She crossed her arms, tilting her head with blatant malice.
"I think you have a very good excuse to meet up with the hothead," she said, voice low and provocative, braids swaying lightly as she raised an eyebrow, as if savoring the victory of her own strategy.
The blush rose instantly to your cheeks, hot and treacherous, spreading to your ears. You gripped the spear between your fingers harder than necessary, its weight now a palpable reminder of everything that had happened, and what almost had.
"Shut up, Annabeth," you murmured, without real conviction, eyes shifting to the ground for an instant before standing, the weapon balanced at your side as if it belonged there.
Annabeth laughed softly, a satisfied sound that echoed through the clearing, but did not press further, at least for now. She turned again to the trail, smile still on her lips, and you began walking toward camp. The spear weighed in your hands, a perfect pretext, or a trap, and in your chest, confusion still danced, now mixed with a timid expectation you did not dare name.
The way back seemed longer, each step echoing promises of future conversations, exchanged glances, and perhaps something that would finally stop being almost.
Meanwhile, Clarisse La Rue marched back to camp alongside her cabin siblings, feet stomping hard on the forest floor opening to the wide valley of Camp Half-Blood. The sun was high in the sky, a relentless golden disk bathing everything in clear, warm light, the kind of day perfect for training or games, but that now only irritated her, as if Apollo himself was mocking her from above.
The air smelled of pine and distant smoke from Hephaestus's forge, and celebration sounds already echoed through the fields: victory shouts, hoarse laughter, and the clang of weapons beaten on shields. Her siblings, a pack of tall Ares children full of fresh bruises, carried the captured blue flag like a war trophy, waving it in the air while exchanging playful punches and affectionate insults.
"That was close, but we crushed those blue nerds again!" bellowed one, a boy named Sherman, face marked by a recent cut on his eyebrow. He raised the flag higher, and the group exploded in laughter, the guttural and triumphant sound filling the air like a battle hymn.
Clarisse forced a nod, lips curving into a smile that looked more like a snarl. She tried to join in, really tried, but it was as if her body was there, but her mind... her mind was stuck in that damned clearing, replaying every second like a cursed prophecy.
The cut on the cheek, blood mixed with tears, the words coming from the girl's mouth like poisoned arrows: "I saw you, Clarisse. Always saw you... I needed you to see me... I care about you." How the hell could someone like her, who had spent years provoking you, knocking you down in training, calling you "princess of the sun" with all possible venom, say something like that? And worse: why did it not sound like a lie?
A strong slap hit her back, snapping her from thoughts. It was Mark, another sibling, with a wide, idiotic grin on his face.
"Hey, boss! You must have given that Apollo little girl one hell of a beating, huh? Bet she's crying still!" Clarisse spun on her heels, eyes blazing with instinctive rage.
"Don't touch me, idiot!" she spat, voice hoarse and sharp as her spear tip.
She shoved his arm away harder than necessary, feeling bile rise in her throat. She hated touches, always had, especially in moments like this, when her skin already felt too thin, too sensitive, as if any contact could crack the armor she barely kept in place.
"Hey, relax, Clarisse. It was just a joke. Victory, right?" Mark stepped back, laughing nervously, hands raised in surrender.
The others exchanged glances, but no one pressed. They knew how she was: a ticking bomb with a short fuse, especially after a fight. They continued marching, their excitement like irritating background noise, while Clarisse followed a bit behind, fists clenched at her sides. Were her siblings out of orbit? No, it was her. Completely out of orbit. The sun beat hard on her armor, making sweat run down her back, but the real heat was inside her, a boiling confusion she could not ignore.
It was only when they reached the camp edge, with the Great Pavilion rising ahead and the smell of pre-lunch food floating in the air, that she noticed. Her right hand flew instinctively to her back, where the electric spear should be strapped. Nothing. Empty holster. Shit. She had left it in the clearing, fallen beside you both during... that. Panic rose fast, but she turned it into something useful, rational. A perfect excuse.
"Hey," she shouted to the group, stopping in place. "Go ahead. Forgot my spear in the forest. Gonna get it before some Hermes idiot grabs it."
"Want us to come along? Might be some blue losers left out there." Sherman turned, frowning.
"No," she shot back, tone cold and cutting, no room for discussion. "I'll handle it alone. Go celebrate, you wimps. I'll be right there."
They shrugged and moved on, their laughter echoing as they joined the crowd forming at the pavilion. Clarisse waited until they were far enough, then turned and headed the opposite way: not back to the clearing, but to an isolated corner of camp, where trees closed into a small private grove, far from the bustle.
The sun filtered through leaves in warm rays, but there, in the shade, the air was cooler, almost suffocating in its quietude. She leaned against a thick trunk, arms crossed over her chest as if protecting herself from herself, and slid to the ground, back scraping rough bark.
Her mind was chaos. Voices shouted inside, not monsters or gods, but her own, accusing, confused. How could you let yourself be vulnerable like that? In front of her? You, Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, who takes down titans and monsters without blinking, lying on the ground like an idiot, letting her see everything? The wet eyes, failing voice, hesitant touch... Damn, you almost cried. Almost.
But she was not regretful. That was the worst: no regret, just a confusion burning like poorly digested ambrosia.
Her words looped in her head like a cursed cycle: "I came back for you... Needed you to see me... I care about you." How? Why? Clarisse huffed low, digging nails into bandaged palms, feeling the familiar pain of recent wounds. She had been horrible to you for years, provocations, training beatings, contemptuous looks that cut deeper than blades.
All to keep distance, to not let anyone close enough to see the cracks. And now? Now you said you cared? That you came back because you needed her? It made no sense. No one truly cared about Clarisse. Not like that. She was the brute, the fierce leader, the one who solved problems with fists and spears. She did not deserve that. Did not deserve someone like you, with those eyes that saw beyond rage, that insisted on poking until finding something human inside.
Part of her wanted to run. Stand up, really get the spear, return to the pavilion and drown it all in celebration: laugh with siblings, beat someone in afternoon training, pretend nothing changed. Feelings? Nonsense. Weaknesses, distractions that killed heroes. Ares had taught her that: fight or die. No room for... whatever that was.
A tingling in her chest, heat rising every time she remembered your face close, lips almost touching. Running was rational. Safe. She could ignore it, wait for it to pass, like a wound healing alone.
But another part, that stubborn, irritating voice, poked back. What if you face it? Seek her now, before lunch, while camp still vibrates with victory.
But say what? Admit feeling the same? That those years of rivalry were just a twisted way to keep you close, because erasing you from her mind was impossible? That the emptiness of recent days, when you pulled away, hurt more than any punch? No. That was irrational. Weak. But... what if it wasn't? What if ignoring only worsened it, like an infected wound you pretend does not exist until it takes you down?
Clarisse closed her eyes, head against the trunk, sun dancing in warm patterns over her skin. The lunch horn would sound soon, forcing her to decide. Run or face. Rational or not, the choice burned inside her like a battle she did not know if she wanted to win.
[...]
When you and Annabeth finally emerged from the winding forest trail, Camp Half-Blood revealed itself in all its chaotic post-capture-the-flag glory. The midday sun beat down hard, turning the air into a wave of humid heat that stuck to sweaty skin. The cabins gleamed under the golden light, their wooden and bronze structures shining as if the gods had given them an extra layer of polish just for the day.
The red team still dominated the center of camp, clustered around the main campfire that crackled lazily even in daylight. Ares children, in red armor marked by dirt and scratches, banged shields against each other in improvised victory rhythms, hoarse voices echoing in provocations and exaggerated battle retellings.
You paused for a moment at the edge of the main field, eyes scanning the celebratory group with an urgency Annabeth noticed but did not comment on. You searched for her instinctively: the tight braid with rebellious curly strands escaping, the wide and imposing posture that overshadowed everyone around, the authoritative gleam in brown eyes that always seemed to hunt for something to challenge.
But nothing. No sign of Clarisse La Rue amid the red pack. Her siblings, tall, muscular, with fresh war marks on their arms, laughed and drank nectar from improvised mugs, but her absence was like a hole in the center of the mess, a leadership missing to turn chaos into brutal order.
Your stomach tied in a slight knot, a subtle doubt seeping in like dew on grass, was she avoiding you? After everything in the clearing? Annabeth nudged your arm.
"Infirmary first. Freak out later."
The cut on your cheek throbbed little now, but still a thin red line that drew curious glances from younger campers passing by. With Clarisse's spear balanced uncomfortably on your shoulder, you headed to the infirmary, an airy cabin nestled near the Big House, its open windows letting in the breeze that stirred fine gauze curtains.
The interior smelled of sweet nectar, caramelized ambrosia, and ground healing herbs, lavender, chamomile, and something citrusy that always reminded you of your father. Polished wooden shelves overflowed with glass jars of glistening ointments, rolled bandages, and elixir vials glowing like liquid gold.
Will Solace was on duty, as usual, leaning over a cluttered table full of scrolls and a mythological anatomy book open to a page on drakon wounds. Your closest sibling, with the same easy smile and eyes echoing Apollo's legacy, looked up as you entered, eyebrows arching in amused surprise.
"Wow, princess of the sun in person, bringing war trophies?" He gestured to a clean stretcher covered by an immaculate white sheet, already grabbing a damp cloth and a bowl of warm water.
You sat with a sigh, feeling the day's weight on sore shoulders, as he cleaned the cut with precise, gentle touches, the cool cloth immediately relieving the sting.
"A little sunlight and Dad does the rest," he teased, tilting his head with a mischievous smile, white teeth contrasting his lightly tanned skin from constant training.
You rolled your eyes, the familiar gesture bringing momentary comfort amid bubbling anxiety.
"Stop joking, Will. I'm not a plant that needs photosynthesis."
"I'm serious," he insisted, laughing low as he applied a thick ointment smelling of wild honey and fresh aloe vera, the cream tingling pleasantly on the skin like internal sun rays. "It'll speed healing in hours instead of days and prevent a scar. Apollo supports sun exposure."
He covered the cut with a light, almost translucent bandage that pulsed with a subtle glow, as if capturing the sun's essence.
That was when his gaze dropped, stopping on the spear leaning against the stretcher, the long black shaft, the sharp tip with familiar electric marks, unmistakable to anyone who trained in the combat circle.
"That's… Clarisse's spear?" he asked, voice lowering a tone, genuine curiosity mixing with a hint of disbelief as he straightened, wiping his hands on a cloth.
You sighed deeply, the sound loaded with something you did not want to name, fingers drumming on the stretcher edge.
"Found it in the forest. She must have forgotten in the game rush." You paused, feigning a casualness you did not feel, heart racing. It was not exactly a lie. "Has she… been here today? Like, to get patched up or something?"
Will shook his head slowly, returning to organize vials on shelves with methodical movements, glass clinking echoing in the quiet space.
"Clarisse never comes to us, you know. Ares daughter ego bigger than Olympus. She thinks she can handle it alone. Stitches cuts with dental floss, uses vodka as antiseptic, or just ignores until it scabs thick."
"Yeah, I know," you murmured, voice low and resigned, echoing the bitter truth the whole camp knew.
Clarisse La Rue was a solitary force: She patched herself in the privacy of cabin 5 with stolen supplies, or did not bother, walked with purple bruises and open cuts like honor medals, refusing any sign of weakness. Asking for help was admitting defeat, and she did not lose. Never.
You picked up the spear again, its weight now an uncomfortable reminder, and left the infirmary with a quick wave to Will, who shouted a "Come back tomorrow for check-up!" before diving back into the book.
The day dragged under the relentless sun. You decided lunch would be the perfect moment: packed pavilion, tables full of steaming grilled meat plates, fresh salads, and golden breads, air filled with conversation buzz and cutlery clinks. You imagined the scene a dozen times while walking there later, trying to rehearse how to approach her. You could not just walk up and say: "Hey, forgot this in the forest after we almost kissed. Want it back?"
Definitely not.
But upon arriving, the pavilion pulsed with life: campers laughing in groups, Chiron supervising from afar with his equine torso gleaming, barbecue smell mixing with ripe fruits and hydromel. The red table was noisy, Ares siblings devouring triple portions as victory reward, but the central chair, Clarisse's informal throne, remained empty, like a screaming void amid chaos.
No heavy steps echoing on grass, no hoarse growl cutting laughter, no pair of brown eyes scanning space like a predator. Your stomach tightened more, anxiety coiling like poisonous ivy, fork spinning absentmindedly in untouched salad while your cabin 7 siblings chattered about the game.
The following hours were a fog of distraction: archery training where arrows flew crooked, hitting target edges instead of centers; superficial conversations with friends who noticed your mental absence but attributed it to game fatigue.
All hopes, fragile and stubborn like spider webs, clung to dinner, the sacred ritual where Chiron took attendance. The sun set slowly, tinting the sky flaming orange and deep purple, pavilion fires lit with cheerful crackles, cool night air bringing toasted marshmallow smell and fireside stories.
But when tables filled again, plates of hot stew, soft breads, and melted ambrosia desserts, her chair remained empty. No sign. The stomach tightness turned suffocating knot, appetite evaporating as thoughts spiraled: she is avoiding me. Regretted the hesitant touch, exposed vulnerability, almost-kiss now seeming unforgivable weakness. Everything in the clearing had been just post-fight adrenaline, a lapse she now buried under layers of anger and denial.
Clarisse La Rue did not do that, not with feelings, not with gentleness, not with you.
When night fell fully, stars dotting the sky like frozen arrows, you returned to the cabin with heavy steps. The cabin smelled of laurel incense and post-training lotions, your siblings settling into bunks with yawns and whispers about the day. You dragged to the bunk below Will's, mattress creaking under weight, top bunk seeming more oppressive than ever.
The spear leaned against the wall within reach, its dark silhouette a silent ghost in the dark. You lacked courage to leave it at the Big House or arsenal, as if returning it without confrontation was admitting defeat.
You lay on your back, eyes fixed on the top mattress, soft sibling snores and distant cricket song filling silence. Doubt weight crushed your chest like ill-fitted armor, what if she hated you now for seeing her without masks? What if the almost was all there would be? Tears threatened, but you blinked them away, turning sideways.
Sleep finally began pulling you down, heavy and irregular, when something changed in the air around you. A subtle weight on the mattress, an almost imperceptible bunk shift, as if the world had tilted a degree. Your eyes snapped open, heart racing before you even understood why.
The cabin was immersed in soft night darkness, broken only by silvery moonlight filtering through high windows, painting bluish stripes on polished wooden floor. Distant low snores and rhythmic sibling breaths filled silence, a comforting reminder you were not alone, until you felt the presence beside you.
Before any sound could escape your throat, a warm, firm hand covered your mouth, fingers pressing carefully but decidedly. Your eyes widened in the dark, panic rising like a cold wave, body tensing to react, to scream, to fight.
"Hey, it's me," came the hoarse whisper, low and urgent, so close to your ear you felt warm breath brush skin.
Recognition was instant, like lightning cutting fear fog. The heart, threatening to explode, slowed a bit, but not completely. It was her. Clarisse. Leaning over your bunk in the middle of the night, invading the Apollo cabin like a shadow, while everyone slept deeply around. She removed her hand slowly, cautiously, as if fearing you would scream anyway, fingers lightly brushing your lips before retracting.
You breathed deeply, cool night air filling lungs, and words came in whispered impulse, loaded with relief, irritation, and disbelief.
"And that is supposed to make me calmer how?"
Clarisse rolled her eyes, you saw the movement even in dim light, that familiar gesture always accompanying her provocations, and responded with a low grumble.
"Shut up, princess."
Only then did you fully realize what was happening. Your stomach flipped violently, butterflies mixed with vertigo, when you noticed how close she was: leaning over you, body braced on one arm beside your head, dark curls loose falling like a curtain around her face, some strands brushing your forehead.
Bluish moonlight filtered through nearby window, illuminating half her face in silvery tones, brown eyes softer than ever, jaw less locked, mouth parted as if words were stuck. She smelled of fresh shower, woody soap mixed with something clean, fresh, as if she had scrubbed off the entire day before coming there.
No trace of training sweat or forest dirt, just Clarisse, vulnerable in a way you never imagined.
Heat rose to your cheeks in immediate blush, burning to ears. Clearing memories returned like a flash. Her body under yours, hesitant touch, interrupted almost-kiss. And worse: you realized, with delayed shock, what you were wearing.
Just short summer pajamas, thin shorts and an old tank top, rumpled from restless sleep, hair probably a total mess, sheets tangled around legs. You felt exposed, small under her gaze, and instinctively pulled the blanket a little higher, even if too late.
"What are you doing here?" you whispered, voice coming weaker than intended, eyes fixed on hers seeking some answer that made sense.
Clarisse's expressions changed almost imperceptibly, but you caught them all, because for the first time, you were truly looking. Her gaze shifted sideways, fixing on some dark cabin spot, lips pressing into a thin line. She seemed… nervous. Hands now braced on mattress beside you trembled lightly, shoulders, usually so straight and challenging, slightly hunched forward.
It was the first time you saw her like this. Were you dreaming? Your heart pounded so loud you feared she heard.
What felt like eternity passed, long, dense seconds filled only by distant outdoor cricket and her breathing, a bit faster than normal. Then, finally, she whispered, voice so low you almost asked to repeat.
"Come with me."
Without waiting for response, Clarisse rose slowly, movements silent and fluid like someone used to moving unnoticed, even if normally the loudest in camp. You noticed then she was barefoot, bare feet in white socks reaching just above ankles. She slid off the bunk without a creak, cast one last quick, almost shy glance at you, and left the cabin as silently as she entered, door closing with a soft click behind her.
You lay there for a few seconds, heart still racing, staring at the top bunk as if it could offer logical explanation. Cabin air seemed heavier now, charged with the presence she left behind, subtle soap smell, residual mattress warmth.
Part of you wanted to turn sideways and pretend nothing happened, return to previous restless sleep. But the larger, more stubborn part was already moving. You sat slowly, feet touching cold wooden floor, without even thinking to grab a hoodie. Just in socks too, like her.
Upon opening the huge door and closing it behind with utmost care, cool night breeze hit like a slap. Air was chilly, loaded with damp pine and dewy grass smell, starry sky above cloudless blocking silvery-blue moonlight bathing entire camp. Your hairs stood immediately, skin goosebumping in waves as you hugged yourself, rubbing arms to generate some warmth.
Clarisse was sitting on the porch steps, back slightly hunched, arms braced on knees covered by worn gray sweatpants. Hands were interlaced in front, fingers fidgeting restlessly, as if not knowing where to rest. Beside her, on the lower step, was a pair of black All Stars with worn soles and frayed laces, which she had clearly removed to sneak into the cabin silently.
Her brown eyes were fixed on nothing ahead: on the dirt path leading to the dark pavilion, on the shadows of the other silent cabins, on the distant lake reflecting moonlight like a broken mirror.
She did not turn when you approached, but you saw her shoulders tense slightly, she knew you were there. The silence between you was dense, almost palpable, broken only by the whisper of wind in the trees and the occasional hoot of an owl far away. You stopped beside the steps, still hugging your own body against the cold, heart beating so hard it seemed to echo in the quiet night, waiting for her to say something, do something, anything that explained why she had crossed the entire camp in the middle of the night just to pull you from bed.
Clarisse let out a long, almost inaudible sigh, loaded with something that seemed like exhaustion mixed with resignation. Her shoulders rose and fell slowly, as if gathering courage for something small, but that for her was gigantic.
"Can you sit?" she asked, hoarse voice keeping that typical Clarisse tone, half order, half challenge, as if asking anything was a battle she was willing to lose just this once.
You rolled your eyes, an automatic gesture that helped disguise the chill climbing your spine and the blush that stubbornly refused to fade. Without saying anything, you descended the last steps and sat beside her on the cold wooden step, curling up immediately against the night breeze. The thin socks protected nothing from the icy wood, and you crossed your arms around your knees, trying to hold onto the little warmth left.
Your shoulders were inches apart, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, far enough that the space seemed like an abyss. You did not move closer. Not yet.
The silence stretched between you like a tightrope. The night was so quiet you could hear the distant lake lapping the shore, the occasional rustle of leaves in trees, the minimal crackle of a nearly extinguished campfire in the camp center. You waited. Waited for her to say anything, an insult, a provocation, even a "get out of here" would be better than nothing. But Clarisse just stared ahead, eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond the dark cabins, hands still interlaced, thumbs fidgeting restlessly against each other.
Minutes dragged. The cold began climbing your legs, and patience, never your greatest virtue, began to fray. Finally, you whispered, voice low and a bit trembling.
"Please, say something."
Clarisse turned her head suddenly, eyes blazing for a second with that familiar anger.
"I'm trying, damn it!" she shot back, tone higher than intended, immediately lowering her voice upon realizing the risk of waking someone.
The words came out rough, defensive, as if you had poked an open wound, thrusting a spear into what she hated most to admit: weakness. You raised your eyebrows, looking at her with a clear expression of "girl, seriously?". You did not need to say anything, the look spoke for itself.
Clarisse noticed. Her shoulders slumped a little, and she looked away again, curls falling like a curtain over her face. The gesture was so small, so subtle, head lowering a centimeter, fingers interlacing tighter, that it was almost a silent apology. She breathed deeply, air coming out white in the night cold, and fell quiet again.
You sighed, the soft sound lost in the wind. Your heart still beat fast, but now there was tenderness mixed with anxiety, because you understood. Understood how hard that was for her. So, with the softest voice you could manage, you asked.
"Where were you? All day?" Clarisse did not answer immediately.
You saw her jaw work, as if chewing words before releasing them. She felt the gesture in your voice, the absence of accusation, just genuine concern, and something in her posture relaxed, almost imperceptibly. She appreciated that in silence, eyes softening for an instant before looking ahead again.
"I needed to think," she murmured finally, voice now calm, almost soft, something so rare coming from her it seemed borrowed from someone else. Low enough not to wake anyone, but clear enough for you to hear every syllable.
You turned your face to her, moonlight illuminating her profile, straight nose, full lips, thin scar on her eyebrow you had never noticed up close.
"And… what did you think about?" Silence again. Long.
The wind blew stronger for a moment, stirring her curls against your cheek, and you saw her fingers start playing with the poorly tied bandage on her hands. Then, almost as if words were being pulled out, she asked, voice hesitant.
"Do you… remember the day you arrived here?" You blinked, surprised.
"How could I forget? You pushed me into the lake." A small smile, half nostalgic, half ironic, curved your lips.
Clarisse's face burned immediately, even in dim light, you saw blush rise to her cheeks, eyes widening for a second before looking away again. She murmured something incoherent, seeming truly embarrassed.
"A little before that…" she corrected, voice even lower, almost a secret.
You tilted your head, waiting. The cold forgotten for an instant, curiosity taking over. Clarisse breathed deeply, shoulders rising and falling.
"You were at the top of the hill. With Chiron. Under Thalia's tree." She paused, as if reliving the scene, tone hardening slightly, as if words were enemies she needed to subdue. "I was patrolling the outskirts, because, yeah, someone has to do the shitty dirty work while others pose as heroes. Then I saw you, all… messed up. Wide eyes like a deer in headlights, backpack slipping off your shoulder as if you did not know what to do with your own hands."
You felt your heart leap, air caught in lungs. You did not expect that. Never. Clarisse continued, voice hoarse and halting now, as if each sentence was a punch she gave herself to keep going.
"But the sun was hitting you in a way… damn, you looked like you were on fire. Hair in flames, skin all lit up, even those scared eyes seemed… I don't know, strong. As if you were made for all that. I stopped. Stopped the patrol and just stood watching, frozen like an idiot, feeling something here inside that punched me in the stomach." She brought her hand to her chest for a second, bandaged fingers digging into the thin t-shirt, before lowering it quickly, as if burned.
"That fucked me up. Scared the hell out of me. I did not understand what the hell that was, hot, tight, as if I wanted to hit something or run. So I decided I hated you. That you were just another stuck-up demigod, full of light and cuteness, who could not handle a real fight. It was easier to fight, provoke, to see you get pissed. Because if I hated you… I did not have to deal with all that shit. Did not have to admit it was something else eating me alive."
She stopped, heavy silence returning. Her eyes still fixed ahead, but now wet, gleaming under moonlight. Her breathing was irregular, chest rising and falling as if words had been a hand-to-hand fight.
"But it was not hate," she completed, voice breaking at the end, hard like rusted iron. "It never was that shit. It was… something else. Something I do not know how to name, because I was not made for that. I am made to break things, not to… feel." The last words came almost spat, as if they hurt in her throat, but she did not stop, eyes finally turning to yours for a second, vulnerable, but still with that stubborn fire that was only hers.
You were speechless for a moment, night cold forgotten, heart beating so loud it seemed to echo in camp quietude. You did not move. Did not want to move. Did not want her to stop.
Because, for the first time, Clarisse La Rue was talking. Truly, even if words came out hard, full of curses and resistance, as if fighting her own feelings to let them out.
Clarisse fell quiet for a moment that seemed eternal, night silence deepening around you like a cold blanket. She still stared ahead, brown eyes lost in the dark void of sleeping camp, jaw locked as if in an internal fight.
Then, as if words were choking her, she continued, hoarse and halting voice exploding in a raw stream, unfiltered, as if vomiting something rotten she had swallowed years ago.
"I could not stop being an idiot anymore, because I am an idiot with everyone. Jesus… I hate everyone in this camp! I..." The words came out hard, spat with self-directed anger, tone rising a bit at the end before she lowered it again, a low growl escaping her throat as if hating her own voice for betraying her. "...hate even myself."
She shook her head, curls whipping the air, fists clenching so hard you heard knuckles crack.
"Everyone is weak, everyone runs, everyone annoys me with shit, they cannot even take a proper punch. I yell, I hit, I break, that's what I do, damn it! That's what Ares taught me to be. But you…" She paused, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling under the thin gray cotton t-shirt, sticking lightly to damp post-shower skin.
"You bit back. Always. And then I got worse, because I did not want you to stop. Did not want you to become like the others, those worms who disappear after a beating." Her woody soap smell mixed with cold air, invading your senses, and you saw her jaw muscle pulse, as if biting her tongue not to explode completely.
Her eyes finally flicked to yours for a second, quick, feral, full of confusion she tried to mask with fury, before returning to nothing.
"But I was sure I had fucked everything up that day," she murmured, voice lowering to a guttural growl, referring to the last training, that combat circle where you had suddenly abandoned the fight, turning your back and deciding to ignore her from then on. "That shitty training, where you just… stopped. Vanished. I saw you walking away, and it was like I had taken a kick to the stomach.."
Clarisse huffed, a rough and self-deprecating sound, running her hand over her face as if wanting to erase the memory.
"I was not angry at you… no. It was anger at myself, anger for always doing everything wrong, anger for being afraid of something I did not understand what it was and I do not feel fear! Or at least… I should not." The words stumbled out, hard like stones thrown against a wall, full of curses and denials she used as shields.
She leaned forward, elbows dug into knees, worn All Stars beside her creaking lightly against the step as she shifted her restless foot, bumping them.
"I am Ares's daughter, damn it! Fear is for cowards, for those who skip training and cry in the cabin. But you… you left me with this bad feeling, like a hole here," she hit her chest again, harder this time, muffled sound echoing in night silence. "I punched trees to shut it up, cut campers to vent, stayed alone all day because if I saw you again, shining with that damn bow in hand, I would explode. Or worse: I would say something stupid and fuck everything up for good."
The silence that followed was dense, broken only by distant cricket song and wind stirring nearby tree leaves, as if the forest was holding its breath to listen. Clarisse did not look at you, could not, eyes fixed on the ground now, on white socks, curls falling like a barrier over her flushed face of shame and frustration.
Her whole body trembled lightly, not just from cold, but from releasing all that, feelings she did not know how to name, colliding against a lifetime's training of being tough, relentless, unbreakable. Her hands, rough and marked by old scars, opened and closed repeatedly, as if wanting to grasp the spear not there, as if fighting was easier than admitting.
You sat motionless beside her, heart pounding against ribs, thin pajamas now icy against goosebumped skin. Moonlight painted soft shadows on her face, highlighting tension lines around her mouth, wet gleam in eye corners she blinked furiously to chase away.
It was Clarisse La Rue, the same who commanded training with a growl, who took down opponents without blinking, reduced to this: a hoarse confession, full of "damn" and "idiot," trying to navigate territory she hated, that terrified her more than any monster. And yet, she was there. Invading your cabin. Waking you. Talking. For you.
The silence following Clarisse's confession was so dense it seemed to have its own weight. The entire night seemed to hold its breath: wind stopped blowing, crickets fell silent, even the distant lake seemed to stop rippling. You felt her words settle in your chest like embedded arrows, painful but true, impossible to ignore. Your heart beat irregularly, early morning cold now forgotten, replaced by heat rising in your throat threatening to overflow.
Without saying anything, you stood slowly. The step creaked softly under your socked bare feet, sound echoing like a shot in absolute silence. You did not look at her, could not. Just turned and walked back to the cabin door, steps light, almost inaudible, short pajamas swaying against goosebumped skin. The door opened with a soft click and closed behind you with the same care, leaving Clarisse alone on the porch.
Outside, Clarisse closed her eyes tightly. Her head dropped forward, dark curls covering her face like a heavy curtain. A trembling sigh escaped her lips, not of relief, but absolute defeat. She had fucked everything up. Again. The voices in her head, those always shouting louder than anything else, "weakness is death," "feelings are for the weak," "vulnerability is the fastest path to a blade in the back," now laughed hysterically.
She should have listened. Should have stayed quiet, continued with usual anger, provocations, fights. It was safer. It was what she knew.
Anger rose hot in her throat, bitter as bile. Anger at herself for coming there, for invading the cabin in the middle of the night, for opening her mouth and letting out those stupid, soft words that did not belong to an Ares daughter. Anger for showing this side, this pathetic, trembling side she buried deep every day.
Hands clenched into fists, knuckles throbbing under old, poorly tied bandages stained with dried blood. She thought of standing, leaving, returning to the Ares cabin and pretending none of this happened. Tomorrow she could be the same old Clarisse: tough, relentless, untouchable. No one needed to know.
She was almost rising, leg muscles tensed, when she felt something warm and soft envelop her hands.
Her eyes snapped open. You were there, kneeling on the step below her, facing her, knees on cold wood. Moonlight bathed your face, eyes shining with something she could not name, sleep-messed hair falling over shoulders, short pajamas exposing goosebumped skin. In your lap, you held a roll of new, clean white bandages, taken from the Apollo cabin reserve.
Clarisse blinked, confused, entire body locking. Before she could ask anything, you, with the most delicate care she had ever seen in her life, held her hands in yours. Warm, soft fingers slid under old bandages, beginning to undo them slowly, knot by knot.
"You know," your voice came choked, hoarse with emotion, as some tears you had not even noticed were there slid silently down your cheeks and dripped on the step between you, "You should start visiting the infirmary once in a while."
Clarisse felt a knot rise in her throat, so tight it hurt. Her lips trembled. She tried to speak, but only a hoarse, lost "…What?" came out, as if not recognizing her own voice.
She burned inside. Did not know what to do with that, with the soft touch of your fingers undoing dirty bandages, revealing swollen, cut, purple knuckles from so many punches on trees and training bags. Did not know what to do with the warm, careful feeling of you wrapping new, clean bandages, tightening just right, protecting without suffocating.
It was so different from everything she knew. So different from pain, impact, fight.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice low, almost scared, eyes fixed on your hands working.
You did not answer immediately. Finished bandaging the second hand with a firm but gentle knot, then held both her hands in yours, palms against palms, fingers interlaced for a second. You leaned slowly and deposited a light, almost reverent kiss on the back of each bandaged hand. Your lips' touch was warm, soft, lingering enough for her to feel every second.
"Taking care of you, idiot," you whispered against her skin, voice choked but full of something that seemed like affection, relief, certainty.
Clarisse froze. Completely froze. As if any movement could break the moment, as if breathing too deep could make everything disappear. A tear, a single stubborn tear, formed on the waterline of her brown eyes, trembling there for long seconds, defying gravity. Clarisse La Rue did not cry. Never.
You saw how she became rigid, and panicked immediately.
"Was that too much? I'm sorry, I just…" you began babbling, voice speeding up, hands squeezing hers hard as if afraid she would leave. "I did not want to pressure you, I just saw your hands and thought that… I just…"
You stopped mid-sentence.
Because the tear had fallen.
A single drop, but saying everything Clarisse never knew how to put into words: gratitude, fear, relief, vulnerability, something too big to fit in her chest. She did not move to wipe it. Did not blink. Just let it exist, there, on her face, like silent proof that something inside her had broken, not badly, but necessarily.
Silence returned, but now it was different. Lighter. Warmer.
Clarisse released your hands slowly, as if the gesture hurt, or as if fearing that letting go would make you disappear. For a second, she just looked at the new white bandages wrapping her own fists, perfect knots you had made, as if not believing it was real.
Then, with a slowness not hers, she who always acted fast, rough, decisive, raised her hands and held your face between them.
The newly bandaged palms were warm, rough at edges where old scars never faded, but the touch was unbelievably gentle, almost reverent. Her thumbs slid over your cheeks, feeling salty wetness of tears still running, wiping them with slow, circular movements, as if wanting to memorize every inch of your skin.
The heat of her hands contrasted with night cold still clinging to your face, and Clarisse felt subtle tremor of your facial muscles under her fingers, red nose from recent crying, wet and stuck lashes, short breath coming in warm puffs against her palms. When her right thumb brushed the bandage on the cut she herself had caused hours before in the clearing, Clarisse hesitated, movement stopped, brown eyes fixing there with guilt burning in her chest like ember.
She caressed the bandage edge with fingertip, almost without pressure, feeling slightly raised texture of swollen skin underneath, as if she could erase the damage just with will, as if she could go back in time and deflect the spear.
"You could never be too much," she murmured, voice hoarse, low, almost broken, words coming as if scratching her throat, but loaded with certainty that made her chest tighten even more.
She felt her own heart pounding against ribs, blood pulsing in ears, heat rising up neck to ears.
She stayed like that for a long moment, just looking at you. Moonlight bathed her face from the side, highlighting red nose from effort not to cry more, still wet lashes, full parted lips as if breathing with difficulty. And you, kneeling there, had never seemed so beautiful to her.
Clarisse felt something inside her chest expand painfully, as if it no longer fit there: the smell of your hair mixed with the night air, the soft warmth of your breath against her face, the softness of the skin she touched with such care that it seemed impossible coming from hands that only knew how to break things.
Suddenly, as if she had taken a shock, she snapped back to reality. Quickly, with the back of her left hand, she wiped her own tear that still stubbornly lingered on her cheek, a rough, almost violent gesture, rubbing hard as if it hurt to admit it existed, completely different from the delicacy with which she had touched you. As if she herself did not deserve the same care.
She cleared her throat loudly, the dry sound echoing in the quiet night, and bent down to slip on the worn All Stars without tying the laces, just shoving her feet in hastily, feeling the worn and cold leather brush her ankles. The movement was abrupt, the shoes creaking against the wooden step, as if she wanted to regain the control she always had.
She extended her hand to you, palm up, fingers still trembling lightly.
"Come on, get up."
You obeyed, legs still shaky from the cold and emotion, accepting her help, the firm, warm touch that sent a shiver up your spine. When you stood, Clarisse immediately looked away, sniffling loudly, pretending a casualness that fooled no one, shoulders rigid, jaw locked, her heart beating so hard she feared you heard.
"It's cold out here," she said, voice firmer now, almost authoritative, but with a subtle tremor at the end. "Better you go back inside."
The words hit like a cold arrow. You felt a drop of disappointment, small but sharp, settle in your chest, like ice melting slowly. You did not know exactly what you were expecting: for her to stay, to say more, to repeat the hand-on-face gesture, that… something beyond a practical goodbye. But "go back inside" sounded like an end, as if she was hiding again.
You just nodded, murmuring an almost inaudible "okay," took a step back and turned to the door, heart tightening with that feeling of broken expectation.
Clarisse watched it all with narrowed eyes, heart pounding against her ribs like an uncontrolled war drum. She closed her eyes tightly, cursing herself silently in her mind: coward, idiot, fearful Ares daughter. An Ares daughter feared nothing. Not monsters, not war, not beautiful women who looked at her as if she was worth it, women who bandaged her hurt hands and kissed her fists as if they were something precious.
Before you could take the second step, her hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist firmly, not rough, but decided, warm fingers closing like a cuff that did not want to imprison, but hold. The pull was quick, unexpected, making you spin and let out a surprised yelp that died in the air when her lips collided with yours.
It was just a peck, brief but intense. Clarisse's lips were soft, unbelievably soft for someone so rough all the time, warm and slightly trembling against yours that were still cold from the night. She tasted the salty of your tears mixed with the natural sweet of your mouth, the warmth of your breath fusing with hers, entire body shivering when you stood on tiptoes to adjust to her height.
Her arms slid immediately to your waist, wrapping you with instinctive possessiveness, bandaged hands pressing against your back, pulling your body against hers as if afraid you would escape, feeling the heat of your thin pajamas against her t-shirt fabric, the subtle tremor of your muscles, heart beating fast against her chest.
When you pulled apart, just a few centimeters, foreheads remained pressed, both eyes closed, noses brushing casually in an accidental caress that made the air between you seem electric. Panting breaths mixed in the cold air, her soap smell still strong, now mixed with yours.
With the rest of courage she could gather, voice coming hoarse, almost breathless, chest rising and falling fast, Clarisse whispered against your mouth.
"Wanted to do it the right way, take you on a date first. But Jesus… I think I couldn't hold out anymore."
You could not hold it. A low, light laugh escaped your lips, not mocking, but pure joy, relief, finding grace in her awkward and honest way.
"You can still take me on a date," you replied, voice soft, slipping your arms around her neck, fingers tangling in soft curls and caressing her nape with a delicacy that made Clarisse shiver from head to toe, a visible tremor climbing her spine, making her shoulders tense and heat explode in her stomach, something new, unknown, that left her dizzy.
"Alright… okay, cool," she replied half groggy, clearing her throat right after, clearly not knowing what to do with her hands (still gripping your waist hard), with her body (pressed to yours), with the closeness making blood pulse in her ears.
Her eyes blinked fast, lost, as if in completely unknown territory, your body lotion smell invading her senses, your skin heat burning through thin clothes.
She dominated arenas, captured flags, decapitated monsters with sword-sized teeth. But Clarisse La Rue was a complete novice at love, and that was obvious in every inch of her tense body, in short breath, in the way fingers tightened and released your waist as if not knowing the right strength.
You held back another laugh seeing how lost she seemed, vulnerable in a way no one ever saw. But you would teach her. Teach everything about love to the war god's daughter.
"Good," she said finally, voice trying to sound firm but coming halting, "better you go sleep and… we talk about this tomorrow."
You raised your gaze slowly, eyes still wet and shining with residue of tears and that raw emotion pulsing in your chest like an exposed heart. They locked immediately on her lips, plump, slightly swollen from the quick first peck, with a pinkish tone contrasting tanned and warmed skin, so inviting they seemed to beg for more contact. Tempting too much.
You bit your own lower lip slowly, teeth sinking into soft, moist flesh, an instinctive gesture only intensifying growing need in your stomach, like butterflies turning hurricane. Your eyes half-closed in a needy, almost pleading expression, pupils dilated in porch dimness, reflecting faint moonlight filtering through distant trees.
Clarisse felt the impact of that look straight in her chest. Her own eyes widened for a fraction of second, heart pounding against ribs with force echoing in ears, too loud, uncontrolled. The whiny voice coming from you caught her off guard, like a low blow in a fight she thought she dominated.
"Okay…" you whispered, voice low, drawn out, with sweet and imploring tone making Clarisse's nape hairs stand, electric tingling descending arms. "…but give me one last kiss."
The words came like a soft purr, vibrating in cold air between you, and Clarisse swallowed hard, throat dry and tight, feeling heat rise up neck to cheeks. She nodded once, hoarse, lips parting without sound, as if words had fled her. She leaned slowly, hesitant, offering another chaste peck, controlled, safe, the kind not leaving her so vulnerable.
But you would not accept control that easily.
In the middle of the kiss, with lips still pressed to hers in a light peck, you whispered against her mouth, warm and moist breath brushing sensitive skin, making her shudder.
"No… a real kiss."
Before Clarisse could process, before she could pull back or advance, your hands rose quickly to her face. Fingers fit into her cheekbones, warm and firm against smooth and heated skin, and you pulled her to you with urgency leaving no room for doubt. Clarisse let out a surprised sound, a hoarse and muffled grunt deep in her throat, half shock, half surrender, when your lips met again, but this time nothing chaste.
You took initiative, parting her lips with yours slowly, tongue tracing lower contour with provocative slowness, moist and hot, inviting her into rhythm. Clarisse hesitated for a second, awkward, initial movements rigid, as if her body, used to precise and brutal strikes, did not know how to be gentle.
Her lips moved against yours uncertainly at first, opening and closing in mismatched fit, shampoo and woody soap smell invading your senses. She held back her own moan, heat spreading like fire through her belly.
But you guided, persistent: tongue sliding inside her mouth slowly, exploring with slow curiosity, tracing roof of mouth, brushing hers in experienced movements making air heavier, more electric. Clarisse responded gradually, lips opening more, body relaxing against yours, bandaged hands on your waist tightening firmer, fingers digging into thin pajama fabric, feeling your skin heat underneath, subtle muscle tremor.
The kiss gained depth: lips opening and closing in slow, rhythmic pace, fitting perfectly, like puzzle pieces always knowing where to go.
You bit her plump lower lip slowly, teeth sinking into soft and full flesh with light pressure, but enough to draw hoarse and surprised sound from her, muffled moan vibrating against your mouth. Clarisse's entire body reacted: hands tightened more, pulling you against her until bodies pressed, hips pressing hips, heat mixing in wave rising through her chest.
She tilted her head slightly sideways, deepening the kiss, and that was when her tongue, hesitant at first but now more confident, brushed yours in a particularly delicious way: slow and moist movement, pressing tip against yours, exploring with hot pressure sending sparks through your body.
You could not hold it, low and needy moan escaped your lips, muffled against her mouth, vibrating directly on Clarisse's tongue. The sound was soft, hoarse, like pleasure-loaded sigh, and echoed inside her like revelation. Clarisse froze for half second, eyes snapping open, wide and dilated in dimness, chest heaving, and then something inside her broke completely, like a dam bursting.
Life was not just training and spinning a spear.
It was not just metal clang against metal, sweat running down back during hours of practice, metallic blood taste in mouth after hard victory. It was that: the sound you made when she kissed you right, a moan reverberating in her chest like sweeter victory than any captured flag.
It was your mouth taste, moist and hot, way your tongue danced with hers in languid movements, sending shivers down spine making knees weak. It was heat rising in belly, tingling in bandaged hands now sliding down your back, tracing spine curve with possessive pressure, fingers tangling in nape hair to keep you pressed, anchoring to something real and soft.
Clarisse kissed you as if discovering a new world, awkward at first, but now hungry, movements gaining fluidity, entire body throbbing with sensations she never allowed herself to feel: brush of your breasts against her chest through thin clothes, thigh tremor when you pressed closer, your lotion smell mixing with hers, creating something new and intoxicating.
When you finally pulled apart, air running out in lungs, chests rising and falling in unison, foreheads pressed again, sweaty and hot, heavy breaths mixing in night cold like fog. Clarisse was trembling entirely, not from cold: swollen and red lips, glistening with kiss moisture, glassy and lost eyes, almost pleading, pupils so dilated brown seemed swallowed by black.
She opened her mouth, tried to say something, anything to break charged silence, but only hoarse and halting sigh came out, air escaping sensitive lips.
You smiled slowly, thumbs tracing her cheekbones with deliberate slowness, feeling feverish skin heat, light tremor under fingers.
"Good night, Clarisse," you whispered, voice hoarse and low, loaded with kiss residue.
You leaned again, pressing a few slow and soft pecks on her lips, one, two, three, each longer than previous: lips meeting with moist softness, brushing slowly, residual kiss taste still there.
Hands descended her arms as you pulled away gradually, fingers tracing firm and tense biceps, feeling muscles contract under touch, down forearms, to wrists, where her pulse beat fast against your skin. Finally, you released completely, fingers slipping through hers in last brush, leaving residual tingling in air.
Clarisse stood there, arms falling inert at sides, chest still heaving, eyes fixed on you as you entered the door, silhouette disappearing in cabin welcoming dimness. She brought hand to lips slowly, touching where you had bitten and kissed, feeling throbbing sensitivity, and let out low, incredulous laugh, almost hysterical, sound echoing in quiet night.
"Fuck…" she murmured to herself, pressing forehead to cold and rough porch column wood, icy contrast against hot skin anchoring her back to reality. Heart still racing, entire body throbbing with new and insistent heat, something definitely not anger or training fatigue.
For the first time in her life, Clarisse La Rue did not want to fight.
And tomorrow, when the sun rose, illuminating camp with its golden light, she would come get you.
can you do yelena and R being ex-girlfriends and R has had a tough time moving on but yelena has been playing the field since and maybe this makes R feel bitter, like she didn't matter much to begin with. then, they end up at the same house party, and R tries to act like she doesn't care that yelena is there but yelena looks REALLY good and R cant help checking her out (and yelena is maybe a little cocky about this) and the tension leads to making out aaaaand potentially hooking up again at said party? thank youu!!
same old sin - y.belova
yelena belova x fem!reader
・❥・summary: You thought you were over your ex-girlfriend. But when you run into her at a house party, you’re forced to admit that she still owns your heart.
・❥・warnings: technically comfort with some spice; Russian pet names (milaya meaning ‘darling’) smoking, high shenanigans, cute and vulnerable AND soft!yelena, making out, some grinding, fingering (r & yelena receiving)
・❥・word count: 3.2k
・❥・a/n: i’m always tempted to turn yelena fics into angst, but it was so much more fun to just let soft!yelena rock in this one. and i had SO MUCH fun with this one. thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy!
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Getting ditched at a party where you don’t know anyone is one thing. But getting ditched at a party where you don’t know anyone except for your ex-girlfriend was another issue entirely, and was unfortunately your current circumstance.
Your best friend, who had been hounding you to attend a party with her for the better part of the last month, had broken off to do god knows what not even fifteen minutes after the two of you arrived. She did reappear at one point though, with a random blonde whom she thought you’d have a lot in common with. And had sneakily left you with her again while she’d gone off to replenish her drink. You’d given up waiting for her to return when you received a text from her telling you that she’d be a little longer because she ran into her ex. Which meant doing your best to navigate a conversation on your own with this absolute stranger.
And you didn’t want to be rude; because this girl was gorgeous in every aspect, but she talked a lot. And you hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise for the last ten minutes. Ten minutes that were spent nodding along, throwing in a couple “rights” to fake how engaged you were, and pretending you knew anything about the pop artist she was raving about. But setting your sights on another familiar blonde across the room did well to steal the little bit of attention span you had in you.
Because no one told you Yelena would be attending. Certainly not your best friend who’d specifically promised you a “drama-free” evening. And though it would’ve been easy to lie to yourself and say you didn’t care, that she was just another familiar face, and that you could just go on with your night, none of those things were true.
It wasn’t fair that she looked so much better post-breakup. She’d cut and bleached her hair, and she was wearing more accessories than you were used to seeing on her, complete with stylish clunky chains and statement rings on most of her fingers.
She stands posted up against the wall below the staircase, arms folded over her chest, surveying the party with an unbothered expression. It was hard not to notice the boots she was wearing, because you distinctly remembered buying those for her on her last birthday. Though you very much doubted she was wearing them because of the sentimental value that they might’ve held at one point. In fact, there was a good chance you hadn’t even crossed her mind at all in the full calendar year that the two of you had been apart.
Yelena had been playing the field since the breakup. Another thing you swore you didn’t care about, but people talk. And even if you ignored the rumors you heard, you’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing her out and about town with one brunette in particular.
You reasoned that a lot of it could be jealousy. You hadn’t had the same luck in dating in the past year. You’d had two bites—one with a girl who seemed to come down on the wrong side of bicurious, and another girl who was definitely more interested in the sex than you as a person. You’d always been more of a relationship person than a hookup person, and in a loveless city like NYC, that wasn’t getting you anything but exasperation and disappointment.
But Yelena had been different. You hadn’t expected to fall for her as hard as you did because the two of you were so starkly different. Night and day. She was tough and reserved, and maybe even a little scary (okay, definitely a little scary), the black cat to your golden retriever. But around you, she let her guard down. She’d been soft and sensitive and vulnerable. And as cheesy as it sounded, she’d made you believe in love again. But just as soon as you’d gotten attached, more in love with her than you’d ever been with anyone else, she’d broken things off, leaving you high and dry and with no choice but to drown your fractured heart in boxed wine.
You think it’s your imagination when the Russian woman’s gaze flits to yours from across the living room. But the way it stops your heart in its tracks is definitely real. You struggle to swallow as your eyes hold hers and it’s as if time slows down, both the EDM track and the chatty girl beside you becoming distorted and unintelligible.
Yelena’s expression stays blank for two seconds…three, four…then she gives you a small, almost imperceptible smirk and turns toward the staircase. You watch her ascend the stairs until she disappears from view, and only then, do you begin to register the loud EDM and the girl beside you again.
“….and actually, this is probably a hot take, but I feel like her unreleased songs are sooo much better than the studio versions of—“
“Uh huh,” you gently cut her off. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude and cut in here, but I really have to pee, so…” you let that be the end of your sentence as you start toward the stairs.
“Oh,” the girl calls after you. “Do you need me to come with you?”
“No, no,” you reply over your shoulder. “Peeing is very much a solo activity, thanks,”
The second floor is marginally quieter than the downstairs floor. The cozy, amber light fixtures on the ceiling give it a homey feel, and if that doesn’t do it, the dozens of pictures of a nuclear family on the walls definitely do.
You don’t know where you’re going because you’ve never been here before, and you tell yourself that you’re not looking for your ex, but you’re clearly not searching for a bathroom either.
You stumble upon a door stood slightly ajar, red LED lights spilling into the hallway, and you brace yourself, hoping not to come face to face with a couple having sex. But when you nudge the door open wider, it’s not an exhibitionist couple you find, but your ex-girlfriend sitting on a couch tucked in the corner. She sits with one wrist draped over her crossed legs, a lit joint perched between two ring-clad fingers.
She doesn’t seem at all surprised to see you stood in the doorway, if the smirk she gives you is anything to go by. And when you hear that accent for the first time in a year, you’re embarrassed by what it does to your body. “I was wondering when you’d track me down, milaya,”
“I wasn’t looking for you, I was…” you trail off awkwardly, letting your gaze sweep around the den-slash-media room you seemed to have found yourself in. There’s a large flatscreen TV mounted on the opposite wall with an impressive entertainment system of what has to be five hundred or more movies; along and some plush-looking bean bag chairs stacked beside it. On an accent table on another wall sits a record player, with vinyl albums stored in a bin next to it. Whoever’s house you were at, they definitely knew how to have a good time.
You remember the present moment and glance back at Yelena. “…I was looking for the bathroom,” you finish in a less than dignified way.
Yelena chuckles before bringing the joint to her lips, and after a long pull and a deep exhale, she speaks again. “Well, I would advise against peeing in here. The homeowners might not like that. Plus, you’d look like an untrained animal. Or a feral child,”
You stare at your ex, trying and failing to come up with an equally quick-witted response in enough time. Yelena notices your speechlessness, but for all her smugness, she doesn’t tease you for it. “Well, are you going to just stand there like a clueless burglar or are you going to come smoke this with me?” she asks.
“Huh?” You blunder. Another dumb response to add to the tally.
Yelena gestures to the blunt in her left hand. “The joint. You smoke it and it makes you feel happy and floaty—“
“I know what weed does,” you snap defensively.
Yelena holds it out to you, raising a brow. “Seriously. You look stressed. This is good for that,”
You weren’t much of a pothead. In truth, you probably couldn’t be classified as a pothead at all. You’ve only smoked twice in your entire life, and both times were with Yelena. And you could admit that it had been kinda fun, albeit the first time a little bit scary. But after the breakup, you’d come to associate the recreational activity with her, so you never went out of your way to find your own supply.
Now that it was being offered to you though, you couldn’t resist the opportunity to get a little high. Even if it was with your ex-girlfriend.
So you nudge the door shut behind you and cross the room to sit beside Yelena on the couch. Your thighs brush, sending a tingle up your spine, and you awkwardly shuffle a couple paces to the right. Yelena hands off the joint to you, watching your face. “You remember how to do it?” She asks you. “It’s like riding a bike. Inhale, hold, exhale,”
“I don’t think you inhale anything when you’re riding a bike,” you say as you put the joint to your lips.
“You know what I meant. The difficulty level is like riding a bike. Easy and you never forget how to do it,” Yelena says.
You inhale, letting the smoke fill up your lungs, and Yelena is right. Your body already knows what to do. When you exhale, you can already feel the difference it makes to both your body and your mood, a tingle starting right behind your eyes.
Once you’ve passed the joint back to Yelena for the third time, your high has officially set in. Your body feels softer, your movements slower.
“Check out the record player,” Yelena suddenly blurted out, pulling you back to the present moment. You watch as she stubs the blunt out on an ashtray on the coffee table before standing to her feet and walking over to the record player on the accent table. She sifts through the bin before turning back to you, holding up one vinyl record in particular. “Look! They have Daryl Hall & John Oates!”
You can’t help snickering at the blonde’s excitement. “Yeah? Most people just call them by their last names, though,”
Yelena’s brows furrow in confusion.
“Hall & Oates,” you explain.
“Hall…?”
“Hall & Oates,” you repeat.
“Hall…and…Oates,” Yelena responds, speaking slowly and over-pronouncing each word.
You snicker again. “You’re so fucking high, Yelena!”
“Well so are you!” She laughs too, falling back onto the couch beside you. It’s a while before the two of you can get yourselves together enough to stop giggling, but when you finally do, Yelena moves to rest her head in your lap. If you were still sober, you might’ve felt weird about this. But since you weren’t, you simply let it happen, your hand finding its way into her short hair, pulling gently at the strands. She smiles up at you.
“How have you been?” She asks. “Like…really?”
“Really?” You repeat. You look out over the room, exhaling a deep breath. “Not great,”
“No?” Yelena pouts up at you, reaching out, you assume, to touch your cheek, but her finger comes to rest on the line of your jaw instead. “You haven’t been, like…banging it out with anyone?”
“Okay, well for one, nobody says that,” you start.
“Of course they do,” Yelena mutters, but you continue on anyway. “And second, no. Not really. Well…with one person, but it’s…that’s all she wanted. To bang, I mean. But that’s not all I wanted,”
Yelena nods solemnly, searching your eyes. “That’s not all I wanted either,” she says softly. “I wanted…”
She trails off, her eyes still holding yours and you feel your heart leap in your chest. “Wanted…what?” you prompt her.
Yelena shakes her head and sits up, robbing you of the warmth of her head on your lap. “Nothing. It’s…this weed is too strong—“
“Yel, please,” you take her hand before you can talk yourself out of it, squeezing it once and then again as you move to meet her eyes. “Finish that sentence. What did you want?”
Yelena doesn’t release your hand to your great relief, and she does hold your gaze. She’s quiet for so long that you start to think she’s not going to say what you need to hear. That she’s going to leave you high and dry for the second time, but then…”You,” she finishes. “I just wanted you,”
Then, it’s as if the two of you are magnets, unable to resist the pull of each other. Your lips meet in a kiss that starts off sweet, tentative, but in mere moments, it becomes fiery, desperate. Yelena pulls you onto her lap without breaking the kiss and you sigh against her. Your hands fall onto her shoulders and begin to yank at the fabric of her jacket.
“Impatient girl,” she mumbles against your lips.
“Whose fault is that?” You mumble back.
She smiles and obliges you, moving back enough so that you can pull her jacket off her shoulders. Next, she raises her arms and you pull her tank up and over her head, leaving her in a simple, black bra underneath. Then, her mouth is back on your neck, her hands sliding up and down your waist, hunting for a patch of bare skin, and it feels like she’s suffocating until she finds the sliver of warmth on your lower back where your shirt’s ridden up.
“Arms up,” she commands and you obey without dissention, lifting your arms and letting her pull your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor with reckless abandon. “Still gorgeous as always,” she breathes as she takes you in.
Your skin feels too hot, overheated. And the immolating gaze in Yelena’s eyes doesn’t make it any better. A soft noise escapes your lips before you match yours back to Yelena’s. And she immediately takes over, her tongue slipping into your mouth and sliding against your own. In the meantime, her hand starts on the button of your jeans, flicking them open, and pulling the zipper down not even a moment later.
You sigh into her again, your hips already bucking of their own accord. “I missed this,” Yelena says, pulling away to start a line of kisses on your shoulder and down your arm. “Missed how you feel. How perfectly wet you get for me,” she cups you through your panties and you jolt against her, but it’s not enough to break her concentration.
It’s not long before she puts you out of your misery, pushing your panties aside, teasing your entrance with the pad of her middle finger before sliding it inside you, her forefinger not far behind.
You moan against the side of her neck, pushing back against her fingers as the curl and twist inside you. “Yel, fuck,” You curse. “That’s so good,”
She hums in acknowledgement, sliding her fingers even deeper. You can feel the coldness of her rings against you, but you’re far past the point of caring.
“Am I going to get some attention too?” She whispers against your shoulder, making you smile.
“As if I could ever leave you unattended,” you reply before dropping both hands to Yelena’s jeans and making quick work of the button and the zipper. But you don’t make it easy for her, your thumb finding and rubbing her through the fabric. You earn the response you were hoping for when she groans into your shoulder.
“Don’t be mean, milaya,” she mumbles. The pet name has the same affect on you that it always has.
“Just prepping you, that’s all,” you say. Then, you slide your hand past her underwear, your fingers sliding into her wet warmth with ease.
She swears, teeth sinking into your shoulder as she rocks against you and you barely manage to stop yourself from crying out at the mix of pain and pleasure. You tilt your hips to meet hers as her fingers slide in even deeper and you find yourself copying her movements. Yelena continues to bite and nip at your shoulder to conceal her moans of pleasure, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she leaves teeth marks behind. You wouldn’t be mad about it either.
Heat coils in your gut as she takes you higher and higher, and you’re unsure if the dizziness you feel is from Yelena or the marijuana in your system.
“You are close,” she says. “I can tell by the way you’re clenching around me. You can let go. I want to feel you,”
You moan into her neck, giving one more good thrust before letting your orgasm spill out of you, the heat in your core graduating to a wildfire as it spreads out to the rest of your body. “Yel, oh god! Oh my god!” You whine.
Yelena isn’t far behind you, shuddering against you just a couple moments later. The grinding doesn’t stop immediately though, the two of you riding out your highs before slumping against each other. The room is silent aside from the two of you catching your breath, the smell of both sex and pot in the air.
As you rest your head on Yelena’s shoulder, the other woman running her fingers through your hair as she holds you, you have a fleeting, panicked thought that this was a mistake. That you shouldn’t have let the weed and Yelena’s softspoken words turn your mind into mush. That this was just a moment of weakness on both your part and hers and now that the horniness has subsided, the two of you will go back to not speaking.
But oh god, you didn’t want that. Because you missed Yelena so much. And not just because you had great sex. You missed her as a person, as a romantic partner. And you didn’t want to say goodbye after this.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Yelena finally prompts, her breathing almost entirely back to normal now.
“I miss you, Yel,” you pick up your head to meet Yelena’s eyes. “And I know you might wanna pretend that none of this happened, that this was just another hookup for you, but I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to go back to acting like the other doesn’t exist, and I don’t want to have to look for you in someone else,”
Yelena blinks at you and you sigh. “Or maybe I’m just high,” you finish.
“Hey,” Yelena rests her forehead gently against yours. “Don’t do that. I know that you meant what you just said. And I feel the same way,”
“You do?”
“Yes,” Yelena nods, her hands finding yours. “I do not want to go back to avoiding each other and not speaking either. And I may not believe in fate and all that, but I think I do believe in divine timing. And that feels like what this was. Like we were meant to seek each other out at this lame party, get high, and reconnect,”
Yelena searches your eyes and smirks. “…or maybe I am just high,” she jokes, and your growing smile gives way to a full-blown grin.
“I think we both are, but I also think you’re onto something,” you say. “I think…this was good for us,”
“Yeah?” Yelena asks.
“Yeah,” you squeeze her hand. “And I’ll try again if you will,”
Yelena nods. “I will,” she confirms before brushing her lips against your forehead.
hihihi!! protective toph whose mean to everyone except us, maybe after a dangerous encounter with the gaang?? save us with your writing🥹
ꫂ᭪ ݁ protective toph who’s only nice to you
content: fluff, nonbender!reader, f!reader, mean!toph, basically what the request says.
wc: 1.5k
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appa’s tired yawns — paired with some of your own — urged you to make a stop in the middle of the forest, deciding to make camp there until sunrise.
you circled the crackling fire lit by zuko, appreciating its warmth during this cold starry night. sokka grilled food over it as the rest of you argued about your travels, again.
“come on, tophh!” aang pleaded, gently shaking her. “we all want to go to ba sing se for a few days, you’re the only one who doesn’t want to!”
“no, forget it.” toph scoffed, pushing him away with a swat of her hand. she crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back against the bark of the tree behind her. “if you idiots all want to go, suit yourselves. i’m not going to that hellhole again.”
katara groans, throwing her arms up in the air. “you always do this, toph! it’s a fine destination, i don’t get why you’re being so stubborn about it.”
“if you want to go so bad, just go!” toph snaps, shutting her eyes in frustration. “i’m not holding you back. i’ll be fine here alone.”
“you know we can’t do that..” aang mumbles, nipping sulkily at the fish handed to him by sokka. “we always travel together.”
katara rolls her eyes, “wow, toph being selfish, what’s new?”
“don’t test me, sugar queen. i’m really not in the mood.”
you and zuko exchange awkward glances at the escalating tension — you two often opted out of arguments like these, since you were the newest additions to the group.
even though you were toph’s girlfriend, it just always felt inappropriate to interfere when it didn’t directly involve you. after all, they knew each other much longer than you did. they could sort this out by themselves; they always did.
“calm down guys,” sokka munches lazily on his half-burnt fish, “just sit down and talk it out. it’s just a trip, no need to get this heated about it. isn’t that right, zuko?” he teasingly leans on him, and the poor boy casts you the most pitiful look ever. it screamed “please help me, i don’t know what to say.”
you clear your throat, trying to lighten the mood with a flustered smile. “sokka’s right! we.. we should just talk it out. i personally think ba sing se is a nice place to—”
“alright.” toph sits up, casually stretching her arms with a soft grunt. “we’ll go, then.”
you all blink, staring at her, stunned into silence for a hot minute.
katara huffs, “didn’t you just say—”
“what’s your problem?” toph cuts her off, her head whipping her way.
“okayyy!!” aang quickly wraps his arms around both of them, nervously hugging them before another fight erupts again. “so, problem’s solved. we’re going to ba sing se!”
zuko prods at your shoulder, and he’s completely incredulous when you turn to face him. “how did you do that?”
you return his bewilderment with wide eyes, shrugging. “i have no idea.”
“it’s ‘cause toph’s whipped,” sokka whispers to both of you, his cheek still pressed flush against zuko’s shoulder. he nods solemnly, waving his now empty stick up and down, “that demon only listens to her girl. seriously she’s— ahh!”
one second he was next to both of you, the next one rocks beneath him shifted to send him flying into the trees behind him.
your girlfriend’s voice pierces through your eardrums, causing you all to wince. “i’m blind, not deaf!”
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the next morning, katara softly nudges you awake, letting out a small laugh at your bed hair. “morning, sleepyhead. we’re almost ready, pack up.”
you nod, half-asleep, and look around you. they’d loaded almost everything on appa, all that was left was you and— oh, toph.
katara follows your gaze and sighs, “yeah, we left that task for you too. please wake that monster up.”
you chuckle, looking up at katara, “hey, that’s my girlfriend.”
“that much is clear,” she stands up, smoothing down her top. “your monster girlfriend.”
you roll up your sleeping bag, then head over to where your “monster girlfriend” laid. legs sprawled in humanly impossible directions, drool leaking out of her lips, disheveled hair pooling messily under her..
only toph could still look endearing this way. well, you seemed to be the only one sharing that opinion.
you smile, kneeling by her side and gently brushing some strands away from her forehead, “sweetheart?”
“mh..” she stirs, features already twisting into an angry frown and she wasn’t even awake yet.
“it’s me,” you add, and her body visibly relaxes. the teal eyes you fell in love with slowly crack open, “.. hm. morning, baby.”
you press a soft kiss to her cheek, but as you’re pulling away, you’re suddenly tugged down to her side.
“toph!” you exclaim, startled and smitten by the cheeky grin on her face. “we have to leave..”
she buries her face into your neck, grumbling sleepily, “but i wanna sleep.”
you exhale, giving her face a light pat. “come on, we don’t have much time. you can sleep on my lap when we get on appa, alright?”
“sweet.” she rasps before pressing a warm kiss to your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. “that’s a deal. let’s go, then.”
of course. that’s what she wanted anyway.
you finish slinging the rest of your stuff over appa, then finally get on the saddle.
“yip-yip!” aang rubs the bison’s head, and with that, you embark on a sweet ride conversing and laughing with the rest of your friends, your grumpy girlfriend snoring on your lap as you absentmindedly rake your hands through her dark hair.
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at aang’s request, you first stroll around the outskirts of ba sing se, where he claimed to know this perfect spot over the walls to view the city in its entirety.
“here!” he happily points to a set of old but gorgeous stairs, spiraling to the very top of the outer wall. “just be careful, the stone’s a little ancient. you know, this was actually built during..”
you hold toph’s hand behind you tightly, slowly marching up the stairs since their width only allowed you to walk one by one, all while aang gave you a free history lesson about their origin.
“this is so annoying,” your girlfriend grumbles behind you, and you bite down on your lip to not laugh at how pouty she sounded.
you don’t know if you imagined it, but you were almost sure you heard a crack at your next footstep.
you look down to check, and before you even spot the crack forming upwards from where you stood, toph’s loud voice rings out behind you to confirm your doubts, “watch out!”
strong arms are immediately wrapped around you, the concrete beneath you giving way and causing you all to plunge down with startled screams.
toph earthbends the wall into a slide, cushioning your fall as she holds you tightly against her when you land.
thankfully, you guys had only climbed up a few feet so the worst part of it was the initial fear, but it might as well have been a volcanic eruption with how worriedly your girlfriend checked your body for bruises.
“are you really okay, baby?” she runs her hands up your waist, ridiculously panicked for someone so carefree. “does it hurt anywhere?”
“toph—” you blush, a little embarrassed at how big of a deal she was making this little fall out to be, “i’m fine, i promise! .. thank you for catching me.”
“yeah, that was real nice of you, toph.” katara dusts herself, glaring at her. “thank you for saving your girlfriend and completely forgetting us.”
toph scoffs, rolling her eyes. “please, it’s only a few feet. and you’re benders anyway, you can take care of yourselves.”
“hello! i’m not a bender.” sokka quips, crossing his arms.
“you have legs and arms,” she replies, completely unbothered as her hands slide down to feel up your legs. “use them.”
he gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “use them how!? i could’ve died, and it would’ve been all your fault, toph! i hope you know that!”
“oh no,” she deadpans, picking you up bridal style to pepper kisses all over your forehead. “figure it out, dumbass.” her attention is back on you and she smiles, “anyways, princess, let’s take you someplace safe. you got a cut on your ankle.”
he glances between you two and the rest of the gaang — who all simply shrugged, used to this fate —, utterly scandalized, “this is blatant favouritism!”
“boohoo,” she walks off, blowing a raspberry to him over her shoulder. “find someone else to save your whiny incompetent ass from a tiny fall.”
you sigh, flushed with embarrassment and exasperation. “tophie, you shouldn’t be so—”
“shh.” she takes you off guard with a gentle kiss to your lips, effectively shutting you up. she smirks at your silence, “don’t worry your pretty little head about them. they’ll live.”
you look away, cheeks warm enough to cook an egg on them.
.. seriously, ridiculous. she’s ridiculous.
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* i need more awkward zuko representation, that guy is a LOSER i love him
Summary: Toph has never been good at asking for things. She simply finds her way into your arms, seeking your warmth in small touches and stolen moments, caring little about who notices. Until even silence begins to sound like longing.
Requested by anon
A/N: Oh, yearning Toph, my beloved. I just know she'd be so needy all the time, even if she wouldn't admit it. (˶>⩊<˶)
Word count: 2k
*̥˚ Masterlist ☾ ⋆*
The road had become familiar again.
Dusty paths beneath their feet, Appa's steady breathing during long stretches of travel, campfires under open skies, and the comfortable chaos that always seemed to follow the Gaang wherever they went. It felt almost like old times—except not quite.
There was something new. At first, nobody could quite put a finger on it.
It started small. Toph had always hated unnecessary closeness; or at least that was what she claimed. She cursed at people for crowding her, shoved Sokka away when he got too dramatic, and threatened to bury Aang waist-deep in dirt if he fussed over her one more time.
And yet lately, you kept finding Toph near you. Not casually or accidentally; close in a way that felt deliberate, planned.
When you walked together, Toph somehow always drifted until her shoulder brushed your arm. When you sat down to eat, Toph dropped beside you with natural insistence, knees touching and sometimes her leg even resting atop yours. When Appa flew, Toph sat close enough that your bodies remained pressed together through most of the ride; she leaned her weight against you as if you were steadier than the saddle.
At first, you thought nothing of it, thought that maybe you were imagining it, even if it got your heart jumping into your mouth each time.
Then, you felt Toph's fingers hook loosely into the fabric of your sleeve while you walked one afternoon. She held on for a while, until changing her grip to your wrist, and eventually, loosely tangling her fingers with yours.
You had nearly smiled yourself silly. That was no accident.
Toph, of course, acted like she had done nothing. She could sense the somersaults of your heartbeat while she held your hand, and a proud grin stretched her lips. “Got something to say, sweetness?” she asked, only for you to hear.
You shook your head softly, blaming the sunlight for the warmth on your cheeks. “Nope.”
Toph swung your joined hands back and forth. “Hmph.”
That should have been the end of it. Instead, it got worse. Or better. Depending on whom you ask.
Sokka, ever observant, was the first to notice.
Evening had settled on their camp for the night. The sky was painted in a mix of purples, blues, and oranges. Crickets could be heard on the surrounding grass, and during dinner, Sokka narrowed his eyes across the crackling fire.
Still munching on his food, he not-so-sneakily leaned over to his sister sitting just beside him. “Okay,” he said in a whisper, gesturing toward you and Toph across from him. “What's been going on with those two?”
Katara hummed curiously, and her eyes slowly followed where her brother had pointed. You sat on the dry dirt, leaning back on both your hands, and Toph had all but thrown herself onto you, her head leaning comfortably against your shoulder and one of her hands resting atop your raised knee as she talked, and you nodded along.
“What do you mean?” Katara teased, a small, knowing smile already on her lips.
Sokka threw her a comically wide-eyed look, “What do you mean what do I mean?” His voice rose in pitch; “Toph hasn't let go of her since we made camp.”
“I'm not holding onto anybody.” Toph's voice cut through the quiet, loud enough to be heard over the fire. When the eyes of everyone fell onto her, she had the largest smirk on her lips, chin raised proudly as she made no effort to move away from you. The hand she had resting on your knee squeezed once.
All you could muster was to focus your eyes down on the burning fire as you bit the inside of your cheek so hard it nearly drew blood. Toph was a solid, warm presence against your body, and it nearly got you dizzy. And acknowledging it out loud made you even more aware of it.
Sokka huffed, yet an amused smile broke the fake annoyance. He crossed his arms over his chest and wiggled his eyebrows even if Toph couldn't see it. “If you two have anything to share with the class, I'm all ears.”
Katara gently shoved her brother's shoulder, biting back a chuckle of her own; “Just leave them be, Sokka.”
Toph snorted. “You know I hate gossip.”
That was all anyone would get out of her. And somehow, Toph became even less subtle after that. As though once people started noticing, she had simply decided she didn't care.
And maybe she didn't. Toph had never been good at pretending to be something she wasn't. If she wanted you close, she wanted you close. End of discussion.
That night, the camp settled into silence. The fire burned low, reduced to glowing embers and soft warmth against the chill. Appa snored nearby, with Momo sprawled on top of his fluffy fur. Someone—probably Sokka—mumbled incoherently in his sleep.
You were snuggled in blankets, half asleep, drifting in that soft place between dreaming and waking. Listening to the gentle lullaby of a night under the stars.
Then, you felt movement. Soft and careful. A familiar presence crossing the earth with feather-light steps only possible for someone who understood every vibration beneath her feet.
Before you could fully wake, warm fingers slipped beneath your blanket; you felt the touch on your waist first, bordering on tentative before it grew bolder. A warm hand sneaking beneath your shirt, feeling the shape of your waist, while your blankets ruffled and the weight of a familiar presence settled close beside you.
Then came the kisses. Light, tender, sleepy little brushes of lips against your cheek. Those lips lingered there before moving to your jaw, and then lazily traced a path to the corner of your mouth.
Your eyes finally fluttered open. And Toph was already there, curled into your space. One arm wrapped tightly around your waist, skin to skin, pulling you close with startling possessiveness. Her body pressed firmly against yours like she had no intention of leaving even an inch between you two.
A sound escaped your lips, half a sleepy groan and half a lovesick chuckle. The faint light of the fire was enough for you to make out a vague image of Toph; the orange light softly highlighted the muscles of her bare arm, and her hair had been pulled completely free of her usual bun, now falling messily around her face and over your small pillow.
On the next heartbeat, Toph tucked her face against your neck. Her breathing was warm, her lips brushing over your pulse point and placing a sloppy kiss there. Quiet. Needy.
You blinked, feeling a shiver go up and down your whole body when the sensation of her mouth on you got your breath running shallow. “Toph…?”
Toph only tightened her hold. As if waking you had been necessary solely so you could consciously hold her back. Both her arms snaked around your waist, holding you with the sort of strength only she could pull off.
Your expression softened immediately, a shaky sigh finding its way past your lips. You slowly slid both arms around Toph, careful not to rustle the blankets too much or wake the others.
One of your hands found her hair, burying itself in between the dark strands as you selfishly leaned in; your lips brushed over her hairline, and you breathed her in.
Toph melted. Actually melted. Her entire body loosened the moment you embraced her, though she remained firmly attached, one leg slipping in between yours as if anchoring herself there.
You felt a smile tug further at your lips. You brushed Toph's hair back, fingertips gentle against her scalp as you reciprocated the gesture, pulling her tighter into your embrace. “What's gotten into you lately?” you whispered, nothing but a breath against her skin.
Toph didn't answer right away. She burrowed closer instead. Her nose brushed your neck, tracing a path from your pulse point to right under your ear. One hand clutched at the back of your shirt, bunching the fabric; the other pressed half moons into your skin.
For someone who projected so much iron and stone to the world, moments like this always felt almost shocking. Toph could be so soft. So desperate for closeness. So quietly vulnerable sometimes.
Finally, Toph mumbled into your skin, voice rough with sleep and something rawer beneath it. “I jus' wanna be with you.”
The words were so simple. So unguarded that your heart clenched in your chest. Toph rarely asked for anything directly. Need, especially, was something she usually buried under sarcasm, teasing, or stubborn silence.
But not tonight. Now she was here, wrapped around you like she needed the reassurance of warmth and touch and presence.
You brushed your fingers along the extent of her bare arm, until you found her neck, and then the corner of her jaw. You swiped your thumb over the skin there. “I'm right here,” you promised in a hush.
Toph exhaled shakily. Her mouth hanging open against your neck and her warm breathing fanning over your collarbone. Her fingers loosened against your back the slightest bit.
Your hand on her jaw gently guided her up until you could press a kiss between her eyebrows, then another over her eyelids, then one to her temple.
Toph tilted her face upward and grumbled softly, despite the smile tugging at her lips. “You're being mushy.”
Your nose bumped hers when you mimicked her smile. “And you woke me up for cuddles.”
A pause. Toph's breathing stumbled audibly with a soft gasp when she felt how close you were. Her fingers dug a little more insistently into your skin when her mouth parted with quiet yearning. “… Maybe.” The word fell clumsily past her lips.
The most formidable earthbender she may be, but she crumbled like sand under your touch.
At last, you caught her lips with yours, barely muffling the soft moan that escaped Toph. Both your hands held onto her jaw, tangling with her long hair as the feel of her skin beneath your palms and the softness of her lips moving against yours got you utterly intoxicated.
Toph, in turn, pulled you painfully close. Her strong arms around your body allowed not even air to come between you; her fingers pressed against your spine, leaving gentle marks there as telltales of her need. Her nose pressed into your cheek as she kissed you, trying to come as close as physically possible.
She caught your lower lip between both of hers, softly brushing her teeth over it before soothing with her tongue.
The kiss deepened by instinct rather than intention, a careful surrender neither of you had exactly planned. It was not hungry in the sharp, obvious sense. It was fuller than that. Slower, a little sloppy as you learned each other's shapes for the first time.
It held the pressure of all the almosts that had gathered between you for weeks; the shared silences, the sidelong glances, the touches that had grown bolder and bolder because neither could have enough of the other.
Toph kissed you as though she had been trying not to for too many days, and the restraint had finally broken in the most beautiful possible way.
In the darkness, with everyone else asleep and the world quiet around you, Toph allowed herself to simply cling to you. Allowed her hands to roam over your body unabashedly. No walls, no sharp words, no armor. Just her claiming what was hers.
Eventually, after what felt like too long and not long enough of unhurried kisses, you felt Toph's breathing slowly begin to deepen. She fought it, but sleep gradually pulled her under.
And even asleep, Toph refused to loosen her grip on you. A grin came to your lips, still sensitive, as you felt the ghost of Toph's kisses. You adjusted your arm under her, bringing her head to rest over your shoulder.
Toph groaned sleepily when you shifted; her arm instinctively tightened. Possessive, even unconscious. You suppressed a soft laugh, rubbing slow circles into Toph's back and bringing the blankets closer around your tangled bodies, until sleep began to claim you, too.
The last thing you felt before drifting off was Toph nuzzling faintly into your neck, seeking warmth even in dreams. As though her body knew only one thing with absolute certainty.
Here. With you. This was where she wanted to be.
The next morning, you and Toph were rudely woken up by a ridiculously loud shout of Sokka's voice: “I KNEW IT!”
⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆･
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Warnings: Angst, Rejection, Passing Out, Mentions of Blood, Arguments, Feeling of Not Belonging, Happy Ending.
Request: Yes.
Summary: In the world where one's soulmate's name is written into their skin, you have a hard time finding yours despite your time-traveling powers. Until you come across them in 2015, just to realize that destined doesn't mean likeable.
Italics: Character’s thoughts.
You felt lost.
Alone.
There was nothing for you—no one.
The name carved into your wrist would disagree as you traced the letters. It was still here. How could it? You had searched everywhere to no avail.
The universe had to be mocking you, playing a time game and laughing in your face. But you had time. Nobody could take that from you.
“Excuse me, Ms.” You lazily looked up, smacking your lips in the process as you knew what was coming. “Would you mind company?” The man flashed you a smirk, his body leaning against the bar.
You hated this. It started becoming harder with each time not to just roll your eyes at every single walking suit that tried to shoot his shot—by buying you one.
You’d thought the 1940s would have been better than earlier times. Well, you were quite disappointed.
Spreading your lips in a thin smile, you squinted your eyes at him. “Sure.” His eyebrow twitched, a small breath was sucked in through his teeth like he expected this reply. “As long as the company is your friend from over there.”
You grabbed your drink, raising it to your lips and nursing on it after pointing to a brunette woman with wavy hair. Her red lips wrapped around a straw as she sipped on her cocktail.
You hid a cocky smile behind the glass when the man’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, staring at the woman.
“I—Well—” He stuttered, a breathy chuckle escaped his mouth as he looked down at the bartop, anxiously drumming his fingers against it.
You almost wanted to laugh at how he started sweating from the realization that you played for the same team as him.
You had no interest in men. Yet, in every time period you had visited—which was all of them—they’d never let you be.
Your clothing did not seem to give them enough of a hint either. There was nothing about dresses and skirts that could entice you to wear them.
It had caused you to be blatant from the get-go. As much as you could manipulate time however you wanted, you did not want to lose it on pointless conversations.
“Good talk.” You tapped his shoulder while getting up, taking steps toward where his companion was sitting.
His baffled face followed after you as he stood frozen in his place.
She looked gorgeous.
You had seen multiple pretty women in your life. Different time periods, different countries and cultures, different types of beauty.
But this one caught your attention for longer than just a passing glance.
The hope sparked in your chest at the possibility.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Sliding into the chair next to her, you flashed her a confident smile as she moved her eyes to you.
And were they beautiful.
Your heart skipped a beat at the sight, completely missing the eyebrow that quirked at you.
“Attempting to be a hypewoman.” She answered, her fingers delicately held the straw as she mixed her drink with it. “Unsuccessfully, as it seems.”
Her eyes wandered over her shoulder and to the man you had left alone at the bar. Her hand waved at him slightly before she moved her gaze back to you with a pointed look.
Her personality was pulling you in more and more, making you yearn to find out every little detail about who she was.
Your laugh spread around the table, making the corner of her mouth twitch up as she took a sip again. Her eyes glued to you as a deep breath left your mouth.
“Apologies, my dear—”
“Peggy.” She quickly corrected you, casually introducing herself. Her back leaning on the chair. “I’m not your dear yet.”
Your head tilted in intrigue at the choice of her words. It was going the good way as it seemed—good for you.
“Peggy.” You repeated, bowing your head and raising your hands in a defensive manner. “I just happen to have eyes for—more feminine figures.” The way your gaze dropped lower her chin only added to your words as sparks started igniting in them.
Her brown irises turned almost black from how her pupils dilated. They skimmed over your body, making you feel like there was little to no clothing covering it.
It was exciting.
Very different from the way your life had been through most of it.
“Is that so?” Her voice turned sultry as she turned her body, crossing her legs, and leaning more toward you. You nodded in confirmation, making the woman place her finger under your chin as she ran her tongue over her upper teeth. “In that case.” Her face inched closer to yours, lips ghosting over each other. “I’d love you to take a look at mine .”
A wide smirk appeared on your face at the words.
You could not wait to see where this would take you.
It had taken you farther than you thought. But not as far as you would’ve liked to.
It had been the greatest three years of your life with Peggy. Everything had been perfect, from the way things seemed simpler with her around to how you could easily understand each other without words.
You’d never thought it would’ve been possible to love someone that was not destined to be yours. Neither had she. Somehow, you’d found a half in a different shape, but one that fit quite well.
Unfortunately, it’d had to end. The excitement, joy, love—it all had been there. But you both had felt the unavoidable void.
It’d hurt. She knew you like nobody else. Every detail of your life. You had even confided in her about your powers.
Still, the time to go your separate ways had come when she’d confessed her soulmate mark had glowed upon the new recruits’ arrival.
It hadn't been the reason for your breakup, however. You both had been aware of the huge elephant in the room that neither of you had wanted to talk about.
It’d been so good, so comfortable, so content.
As much as the love you’d shared had been great and unconditional, it’d been very hard to get rid of the feeling that something had been missing.
So, you had ended it on good terms and had promised to visit her in whatever time period you would’ve gone to next.
You’d seen her as a married mother in the 1960s, coming to find out that her soulmate had died quickly after you’d left.
Your heart had shattered at the news. She hadn’t gotten to live with the unbreakable bond for longer than two years. But her attitude had seemed to be good about it.
She’d shown you the organisation she’d built with a few other people. SHIELD was the name of it.
Or rather an acronym you had proposed upon hearing the long name you almost had gotten a headache from.
You’d been proud and impressed—and she’d taken it as an invitation to make you into an agent.
According to her, you’d already had the skills and the time-manipulating power would’ve come in handy. You couldn’t resist when she had looked at you with those doe eyes.
She even had given you a bracelet with the logo—her initials with yours embraced in a heart had been engraved on the inside, melting your heart at the sight.
You’d also found out she had married a fellow agent from SHIELD and had had a family and her happy ending. Her only regret had been not having more time with you—at least as a friend.
But she’d understood why you couldn’t have stayed. She herself had chosen to follow the bond when her wrist had glowed all those years ago.
She couldn’t have been mad at you for trying to find the same.
But you’d stayed with her for a few years, not being able to refuse your first ever love just as she couldn’t have let hers go easily.
Next time you’d seen her had been in the 1980s. She’d been an older widow at that point and you had gotten to meet her niece, Sharon.
That’d been before you ended up here.
Year 2015.
You slowly adjusted.
It’d been a couple of weeks now, getting the hang of most things. There were challenges, but nothing you could not handle.
The drastic change in technology was the only thing that had kept you back for a bit, but eventually, you’d managed to figure it out as well.
Otherwise, your life was going pretty well.
It would be even better if you could finally find your soulmate. The name on your wrist was bugging you every day. The doubts of the person’s existence had started settling in your mind a bit ago.
There was a possibility she was dead. You were not sure how it would affect you or the bond—if the name would disappear or simply haunt you for the rest of your life.
It was torture to live with this uncertainty.
The hope of finding the woman started fizzling the longer you’d been in New York. All those years of traveling seemed pointless now. You hadn’t found her and it wasn’t looking like you would.
You tried not to let it get to you.
You had found out Peggy was still alive and you were coming back from visiting her, getting off the plane at the airport. You were in better spirits after talking to the woman.
There was not much left of her memory, but she had remembered you. She had remembered everything you two had had.
Taking planes and taxi rides gave you a sense of normalcy, but sometimes, you would speed up the time when you did not want to wait for too long.
During your walks, you’d slowed it down, however. People-watching became one thing that did not make you bored. There was always something interesting happening.
”Ladies and Gentlemen, flight DL3026 from New York to Los Angeles is delayed due to maintenance work.” The speaker said, voice booming loudly, but the words could be barely understood. “We apologize and thank you for your patience.”
Your eyes rolled at the poor souls who would have to wait. As much as your powers were a constant reminder of your goose chase after your soulmate, you were happy when they came in handy in situations like this.
The floor beneath you rumbled, causing you to stop while looking down. Everyone around seemed to be just as confused and concerned, staring at others like somebody would have an explanation.
They got it soon after when a giant piece of metal flew through the glass wall, crashing it to pieces.
Your eyes widened in horror, seeing the object flying right at you. Like in a puff, you found yourself away from it in a second, using your powers.
Time manipulation was more than just speeding up and slowing down time. After years of practice, you had found out teleportation had been one of the possibilities.
It came in handy, just like now.
Everyone around you erupted in screams, running to the escalators and stairs, trying to get to the exit.
The airport turned into chaos within a millisecond. People were pushing others, grabbing the hands of their loved ones to pull them into safety.
You were turning a full circle in shock. Your eyes skimmed over the place before falling on the metal object that had flown inside. It dug a line in the floor from the impact.
“That’s gonna be expensive.” You remarked to yourself, your eyebrow quirking quickly as you stared.
Your instincts kicked in when a screeching sound rang through the place. Your body automatically got into a fighting stance, observing how the object slowly moved a part of itself, then another.
Your head tilted with a confused look.
A robot?
It looked like one. When it finally stood on its feet, a head spun back and forth before sparks flew from it. It locked in place as your mouth hung open, taking it all in.
“Get out of here!” A male voice yelled out from the floor below, guiding people to safety as he tried to get to the escalators.
Your head whipped to him, his blue costume caught your attention as you watched how quickly he was getting through.
A metallic-like groan made you look at the robot again, seeing how it turned around, twisting its head before scanning the place.
His white eyes stopped on you, switching to red instantly. “Elimination in process.”
Huh?
You did not have more questions when its arm raised, aiming at you. A rocket flew out, coming your way and making your eyes go wide.
Teleporting again, you avoided being bombed in the head. Thankfully. This was not how you imagined your day to go.
This was much worse.
“Going in!” Another voice echoed in your ears before a red cloud flew past you, making your head snap in bewilderment.
What the hell was going on?
You would love to know when the man from before ran in, going straight for the robot. He had to be suicidal. That little shield would not help him take down this crazy machine.
Your mind changed quickly when you saw red tendrils wrap around the metal limbs. One by one were overtaken and twisted as you watched in shock.
This was insane. You’d never seen anything like this.
Just as the man was almost at the object, it ripped from the magic that had held it captive. The robot swung his metal arm, taking a step forward and smacking the blue-costumed guy.
His body arched inwards before slamming against a pillar, breaking it and causing it to crumble on him.
“Shit.” You breathed out, a bit terrified.
But it did not last long when you saw the monster fight the red magic again. Looking up, you saw a brunette with a scrunched face. Her arms were extended, red wisps flying all over her fingertips.
The dots finally connected in your head. She had powers. Just like you.
Her yell snapped you out. The robot’s arm turned into a sonic beam as he directed it right at the brunette. Her body fell to the ground, staying still to your horror.
You hoped she was still alive.
But you had no time when the machine took you as its target next. You did what you should’ve done the very second it had come flying in here.
You quickly teleported behind it before slowing down the time. You could take eternity finding the wire panel. But it was easy. Right under the back of his head.
You opened it quickly and pulled all the wires, causing sparks to fly at you as the time went back to its normal pace.
The machine malfunctioned, causing the metal body to convulse before shutting down—to your satisfaction.
Hopefully, it would not come back to life.
You were fast to run up to the woman, kneeling at her side. Her groans made you breathe out in relief. At least, she was alive.
“Are you okay?” Her head whipped to you, fear was swirling in her eyes as she stared at your face full of concern. She did not seem to care about it, however, when she quickly lifted her hand. “Wow!” You let out loudly, getting back on your feet and slowing down the red blast she threw at you.
Her eyes widened at the sight before it scrunched. Another blast came from her other hand, causing you to use your powers to stop it as well.
“We have an enhanced on the floor!” She yelled out hysterically, pushing fingers against her ear.
You looked at her confused. “Hey, I’m just trying to—” Your sentence could not be finished when she threw another blast, quickly getting up as you dodged it. “Damn!”
The attacks only got worse when she stood to her full height. Red tendrils wrapped around different items as she angrily stared at you.
Fuck me.
“In your dreams.” Your head tilted at her in puzzlement when she seethed out.
Two pillars were ripped out of the flooring and ceiling before she pulled them inside, trying to squish you.
She would have to put a bit more effort if extermination were her idea. You vanished from your spot, appearing to her right.
You cockily smiled to yourself upon seeing her eyes jump all over the place in an attempt to find you.
By any means, this was not how you wanted it to go. However, she clearly was not friendly—at least, not to you.
“Ugh!” A yelp sounded through your throat when a body collided with yours, arms going around you in a tight squeeze.
The landing was hard as your head hit the tiled floor, making you groan in pain. There was no time to think about it when the man in a blue suit shifted, straddling you before his fist was going at your face.
His clenched teeth were on display as he delivered a punch—which hurt like a bitch. Your jaw tensed in anger.
He was about to find out to what extent your powers could go.
His fist was coming back before it stopped. His eyes snapped to it in confusion as it began turning in his direction. It connected with his face a second later, knocking him off of you.
The action repeated, over and over again, letting you get up as you checked your face for blood. Fortunately, there was none, even though your nose still hurt.
“Wait!” You said, arms extending with palms facing the brunette whose hands raised at you.
But she did not listen, trying to blast you with magic again. Her eyes were jumping in panic between her hands when red tendrils halted right at her fingertips.
Desperately, she tried to let out more of them, but nothing was coming. Her arms were shaking as it did not stop her from trying.
“Who are you?” Her question made you stand to your full height, finally feeling safe.
“A magician.” You told her jokingly, but quickly switched the approach when her unamused eyes squinted at you. “I don’t mean harm.”
“You could’ve fooled me.” Her irritated eyes went to the man whose fist kept punching him in the face before looking at her hands.
She could not be serious about this.
A scoff left your mouth at the accusation.
“Oh, right, because you didn’t start this.” Her head tilted at you in annoyance, eyes squinting like she wished to punch you in the face.
“How was I—” The continuous groans made her lips press together as she closed her eyes for a second. “Can you stop this?” She gestured to the man in blue, staring at you angrily.
You debated it for a second. They clearly were here together. Who knew how many more they had with them.
But in the end, you would not get anywhere if you did not show cooperation. So, you stopped the loop on the man.
His nose was bloody by now, but a huge sigh of relief escaped his mouth when the self-assault came to an end.
“Thanks.” The brunette woman said, her voice barely appreciative.
“You!” The man limped to you, his anger had his teeth grinding.
You looked at him warily, eyes jumping all over him to see any possible signs of danger. But it went out of the window when your eyes fell on a logo on his uniform.
Your eyes scrunched in puzzlement just as his face took the same expression when he stared at your bracelet.
“Where did you get this?!” You both asked in unison, mouths falling agape before your gazes met.
How could he have it? Could it still exist? Did he know her?
So many questions were running through your head.
“Everything under control.” He said, pressing his fingers against his ear as he suddenly froze in his spot. You heard a voice on the other end, very muffled.
A burning sensation ran on your wrist, causing you to hiss as your eyes snapped to it.
It couldn’t be. The letters. A fade gold was sparkling on them.
But how?
A million thoughts were running through your head. You had to be close. She had to be near. Your gaze started jumping as gears kept turning, but you had no answers.
The voice stopped, but the man just kept staring at you. His chest was rising high from his breathing as you waited to see what he would do.
“Make room for one more.” Your eyebrow arched at him as the brunette’s head snapped in his direction at the words. “We will have company.”
“I asked about your name.” He seethed out angrily, his hands falling heavily on the table as he leaned on them. “Don’t make me ask again!”
The facade he was trying to put up did nothing to you. It’d been a while since this had started. And it was getting nowhere.
It was more than clear that his ego was getting bruised with the way your face stayed emotionless as you boredly switched your gaze from him and to the white table.
Everything in this room was white. You felt like they had brought you to some psychiatric facility. It wouldn’t be the first time someone considered you a freak. Especially, after what you had pulled back at the airport.
You never understood how your powers made others so hostile toward you. You had never used them to hurt anyone—unless in self-defense.
But it wouldn’t make sense for them to be like that. The brunette girl had some kind of magic as well.
“Did you lose your hearing?” The woman in question spoke up, pushing herself off a wall as her arms stayed crossed. “Answer the question.”
Their aggressiveness was not causing the effect they would like. It only made you less inclined to cooperate. Or answer questions in general.
Tilting your head, you huffed out a small laugh, irritating them both further.
“Are you guys new?” Your wrist was lying against the table as your finger pointed at them both. “It’s supposed to be a good cop and a bad cop.” Your eyes squinted as you puffed out a breath before smiling. “You both wanted the bad cop, huh?” Your voice sounded muffled as you spoke through your teeth, the corner of your mouth lifted before sucking in a breath.
“Listen, you—” The blonde man yelled out as he grabbed you by the collar, lifting you off the chair and pushing against the wall.
“Ah, ah.” You let out, wiggling your finger at him. “First of all, this is an abuse of power.” Your smart-ass comment made spit fly out from between his clenched teeth as he seethed at you. “Second of all, if you don’t want the airport flashback to get realistic, I suggest you take your dirty hands off of me.”
Your head lowered as you stared right into his eyes. He was around your height, making it very easy for him to see the shift in your blue irises before they flashed green at him.
His stance faltered, but he quickly fisted your shirt again before letting go and turning away.
“Huffing and puffing will get you nowhere, boy.”
His head whipped quickly to you in fury. “Don’t you call me a boy.” It was fun to taunt him, he was very easy to rile up.
Normally, you would try to be as friendly as possible in this situation, but that had flown out of the window as soon as they had attempted to turn you into a pile of dust.
The blindfolded airplane ride—or whatever that machine was—had not been very hospitable either.
If they wanted to be tough and mysterious, you could play that game with them.
“Hard not to when you’re acting like one.”
You were surprised his jaw was still intact from how much he clenched it upon hearing your words.
“You—” He took a step, his arm swinging behind him, making his intentions clear.
You were ready. He knew very well how it would end.
But before it could escalate, the door slammed open.
“Rogers!” A loud, female voice stopped him immediately, his arm freezing in the air as he stared at you with rage. “Is that how we interrogate?”
You could not help the cocky smirk that spread on your lips as you lazily moved your head, looking right back into his eyes.
“Is it?” You whispered, wanting to see how much he would be willing to break their rules.
You had no idea what they were, but judging by the lady’s words, his methods were not very acceptable.
But he did not move an inch—besides lowering his arm back to his side as he exhaled slowly.
Your eyebrow quirked quickly at the reaction.
“If you need a five—” A blonde lady came into your view when he turned to look at her as she spoke.
But her voice cut off when your eyes connected with her blue ones. Your head tilted as your eyebrows pulled together. Something about her seemed familiar.
The hair, the face.
Like you had seen her before.
“Oh my God.” Her voice wavered as she said. “Riley?” Your confusion only deepened when your name fell out of her mouth.
How did she—
“Sharon?” Your wide eyes went all over her, trying to understand how possible this could be and not some trick they were playing on you.
She exhaled loudly before a grin spread on her face, taking fast steps toward you with open arms.
This could not be. Could it? What were the odds?
But your mouth opened as a happy sigh left it. You spread your arms, going toward her. But any thoughts you had were knocked out of you when your back slammed against the wall harshly.
You grunted in pain, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Maximoff?!” Sharon’s bewildered voice reached your ringing ears before you saw her wide eyes snapping to the brunette in anger.
“She’s dangerous.” The woman replied sternly, her hand directed at you as she gave you a stinky eye.
An unamused, maniac-like laugh passed your lips as you tilted your head back. Everyone’s eyes jumped to you, looking at you like you were crazy.
Maybe you were.
Or maybe you were done with always being the only one labeled as a threat.
Your sigh was exaggerated when you moved your gaze to the brunette.
“That would make two of us, darling.” The cocky smile that spread on your lips made her jaw clench.
It was a second later when her face scrunched in rage, her hands raising as red appeared at their fingertips.
But before the blast could even began flying, she cried out in pain as your eyes turned green. Her hands hung loosely as she stared at them.
Your teeth gritted, feeling a spark of guilt in your chest at what you just did. But her attitude started getting on your nerves.
“What did you?!” She yelled out to you, hints of tears appearing in her eyes as she stared into yours, her fingers burning red like fire.
“Made your little magic go back where it was coming from.” You told her pointedly, face void of emotion. “Without reducing its strength.”
You could manipulate anything. That was how great your powers were. After all, you’d had years and years of practice. Anything that belonged to time belonged also to you.
Her magic existed in time. Therefore, you could mess with it however you wanted to.
In the corner of your eye, you saw Sharon’s shocked face as she stared at you. Your throat tightened, feeling like you just disappointed your own child.
She was the closest thing you had to family besides Peggy. Even though you hadn’t seen each other for years, she was all you had. Maybe all you would ever have.
Your head lowered in shame as you could not bear looking into her puzzled eyes.
“Wanda!” A new female voice sounded through the room, making you look up just to see a redheaded woman run up to the brunette.
Her face was full of concern as she embraced the brunette with one arm, looking over her face.
And you could not look away from the redhead’s. The feeling was enticing. Strong. Electric. Everything in you was buzzing, screaming for touch.
It felt like life was injected in you for the very first time.
“Ah.” Your body squirmed, causing your eyebrows to pull as you breathed in through your teeth, grabbing your wrist that stung you like a hundred heated-up needles would poke it.
But anything you could possibly think of was gone in a split second when you saw your mark glow under the sleeve of your long shirt.
Impossible.
Could it finally be?
Your eyes snapped up to the women who stood together, focusing on the shorter one like on a prey. You could not help yourself. She was pulling you in.
They were too occupied to notice anything as they talked, the features on the redhead’s face slowly changed from concern to anger.
The fire in her eyes burned deeply, making them turn almost red from rage. Your stance faltered when it was directed at you, making your eyes finally blink.
“Lock that bastard right now!” Her finger pointed at you angrily, her jaw almost popping from how hard she was clenching it.
“We’re not locking anybody—”
“She hurt Wanda!” The redhead’s fury switched to Sharon, sparking frustration within you.
“And Wanda hurt her.” But the blonde was handling herself well without your help as she replied pointedly.
A proud smile almost broke out on your face as you watched them interact. Your interference would not bring anything good anyway.
They saw you as a threat. An enemy.
“I’m gonna throw her into Hulk’s cage myself then.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as her angry eyes stared at you again.
But your head dismissed everything she said besides the word Hulk, making your eyebrows scrunch. What the hell was a Hulk?
“You’re gonna do no such thing, Romanoff.” A male voice spoke from the door, making everyone’s gaze snap in that direction.
A tall, black man with an eye patch was slowly making his way in. A long, black coat was covering his body as he threw it back.
All four people became instantly quiet, their gazes lowering in obedience as you gave Sharon a questioning look.
You wished you could know what the hell was going on.
“We don’t throw our teammates into cages.” Well, that seemed to peak everyone’s interest back in as each person, besides Sharon, started arguing.
You could only stare in shock as you tried to figure out what the hell this strange man was saying.
He quickly silenced all of them with one louder word, both women and the blonde man looking at each other in anger, their jaws clenching and teeth gritting.
The man’s eyes—only one really—looked right into yours as the corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk.
“I’m Nicholas Fury.” He decided to introduce himself as his chin raised. You had no idea what was about to hit you. “How would you feel about working for me?”
You had been at your new job for a month now. A SHIELD agent. When Fury had told you what organisation he’d been leading, you couldn’t have believed how the universe had brought you back to Peggy—her legacy.
You’d wanted to agree right away upon hearing the name, but it’d been unclear how much had changed since your past lover had stepped down.
Fury had seemed very determined to get you on his team, especially, after he’d found your old files from being teammates with no one else than one of the founders—Sharon had been right behind him, pulling every possible trick to make you stay.
And it’d worked. You’d agreed, gotten your own room, and a badge.
You had come to find out a group called the Avengers had existed a few years ago, but it had been disassembled due to several governments’ doubts about it.
Every member had become a SHIELD agent instead. They even had separate quarters in the facility’s building. Your bedroom was located there—along with all ex-Avengers—as you had been assigned specifically to the ‘special force’ team.
To you, it just sounded like a rebrand of the Avengers—a bit more legal one.
Your qualifications were high enough to be on level 8, but Fury’s precautions had made him put you at level 6. He hadn’t been sure how much he could trust you for now.
But you did not complain.
You only agreed because of Peggy and Sharon.
If you ever went back in time again, you would tell Peggy how much of an asshole her soulmate was. The blonde man, Steve Rogers, was her soulmate.
He had been found frozen in the middle of nowhere after nearly 70 years. You did not like him. If he had been anything like this around Peggy, you were not surprised anymore she hadn’t told you much about him.
But there was also another reason why you joined.
The fact that the person you’d been looking for your whole life was here.
Hating you.
“I’m using this.” The redhead’s small body swiftly turned around as she took a seat at one of the machines at the facility’s gym.
Just as you were seconds away from doing your workout on it.
“I was literally about to—”
“Well, you’re not anymore.” Her eyes squinted at you as she tried to find a comfortable spot.
You stared at her with a clenched jaw before rolling your eyes, sighing. You could only pick up your water bottle and find something else to do as her arms spread and quickly pressed against the pads before she started pulling them inwards.
“I hope you pull a muscle, you asshole.” Your mumble was quiet but loud enough for her to hear.
Her irritated features quickly changed as a smirk appeared on her lips.
“On your settings? I don’t think a squirrel would pull one.”
This would go nowhere, so you decided to go somewhere else. You did not have time to argue with her. Not again.
Her girlfriend—as you had come to find out quickly after joining the institution—had not been much better.
“Excuse me.” The brunette said, pushing you against the kitchen cupboards in the common area.
Her body had no reason to collide that harshly with yours—or at all—since there was plenty of space.
But she wouldn’t have had you spill your coffee on your shirt if she had walked like a normal human.
Your mouth froze slightly open before your entire face tensed in anger. Pressing your lips tightly together, you threw a deadly glare to your right where she stopped to get tea.
Hiding words in your thoughts would be pointless since you had been told she could read minds.
“Are you blind?” The annoyance was clear in your voice.
It increased even more when she took a bite of a sweet bun, looking at you innocently.
“Hm?” Her eyebrow raised at you in fake puzzlement like she didn't know what she just did. Your entire hand was pointing to a huge stain on your white t-shirt that was now clinging to your body. “Oh.” She giggled, covering her mouth. “No, I just don’t like you.” She batted her eyelashes at you with a sweet smile as she tilted her head to the side.
She grabbed another bun before waving at you only with her fingers, turning on her heel, and leaving you with the mess she had caused, making your eyes roll.
“Likewise!” You couldn't see her reaction, but just yelling it out helped your soul.
It didn’t bother you greatly on normal days. Sure, it was annoying, but nothing that could make it too much of an inconvenience to live with.
It became a problem when this behavior continued during meetings, missions, and briefings.
You felt like you were fighting two wars at the same time.
“You were supposed to cover me!” Your loud voice could not be missed as the brunette was standing right next to you.
It was getting out of control. You could look past a lot of things, but this? No.
Her hip was jutted out as she stared at her nails in boredom, eyes rolling at your words.
“And I did.”
Your jaw dropped before you clenched it, your face turning red from rage that started spreading through your body.
“Are you kidding me?!” She had to be. “You left me alone in the building!”
She had been nowhere in sight when enemy forces had come out of nowhere, swarming the hallways.
You’d had to fend for yourself to survive. Fury had forbidden you from using your powers on several missions, wanting you to practice defending yourself in a human way.
So, it had been hell of a time getting out of that place.
“Don’t yell at her because you can barely save your own ass.” Natasha’s voice cut through to you, making your head whip in her direction.
Sometimes, it was hard to listen to her insults. Other times, you simply could not stand her, but your head would not shut up about wanting to be close.
“Oh, if it’s not the troll defender.” Your lips formed into a tight-lipped smile, having had enough for today already.
You did not need both of them to piss you off more. Wanda was doing great on her own.
The redhead’s eyes squinted at you at the name. “Can you mind your words?” She was not asking despite what it might have seemed like.
But you didn’t care.
“Can you mind your business?” You bit back quickly, giving her a raised eyebrow. You already knew the answer and did not bother to wait for her response as you turned around to walk away. “Let’s see how Fury likes to hear about this.”
He hadn’t liked hearing about it. They both had gotten a warning—and a threat of being put on desk duty.
But that had been a month ago. They’d gotten better during missions, but nothing had changed in your day-to-day life.
Besides the fact that the bond had been making you more and more impatient. It had become harder to stay away from the redhead.
You had no idea there would be any side effects to this. Well, you were finding out in real time every time she would give you a death glare, throw an insult at you, or avoid being anywhere near you.
It made you feel like a werewolf who wanted to claim their mate. You just wanted her to be yours—like the universe intended.
Keeping it a secret was eating you alive. You knew she hated you—and frankly, you hated her too for how cruel she was sometimes—but not saying anything was taking a toll on you.
You’d been looking for her your whole life. Now, she was within arm’s reach.
You were tapping your fingers against the table in Tony’s tinkering lab, your eyes focused on a random object.
“You’re gonna lose all teeth from clenching them so hard, kid.” The man with a goatee said, snapping you out of your trance and feeling the tension in your jaw for the first time. “You okay?” His eyebrow raised.
Were you? Of course, not. You felt like shit.
It’d been only two months, but you felt comfortable with him. However, you could not tell him about the soulmate bond. Not now.
Your fingers started tapping harder as your entire body tensed when you came to a decision.
“I gotta go.” You quickly got off the chair and almost ran out of the lab, not giving the man a chance to say anything else.
You’d had enough of this. You couldn’t keep it away from her—and yourself—any longer. Maybe all this stupid rivalry and insults would stop if you told her.
You were not full of hope, knowing the nature of your relationship. But what could happen? She would understand you were not an enemy.
It could take some time to get to a good place, but you were sure that the bond would change her approach. At least a little bit.
At least to the point you could finally start liking her as a human and stop despising yourself for hating your soulmate.
“Natasha.” You called out, seeing her at the kitchen island in the common area going through some papers.
Fortunately, no one was around.
The redhead did not care to even acknowledge you, but you knew she heard your voice.
“Natasha.” You repeated, coming up to her as she flipped a page. “We need to talk.”
Her eyebrow raised as her gaze remained on the document. “I don’t do charity work.” It was so hard not to just walk away and drop it all.
But you were aware that doing it would be equally as hard.
“I’m serious, it’s important.” Her behavior was aggravating. She did not care about what you had to say.
“Yeah?” She chuckled out, sparing you a glance. “What? Are you a fairy now? You have a secret lover you are dying to let me know about—” Her mocking was irritating you as she was laughing in your face.
“You’re my soulmate!” You finally burst, wanting her to shut up.
And that she did. Very quickly. Her wide, green eyes stared at you in bewilderment. She could not believe what she was hearing—and you could not believe that you finally said it.
It was freeing. You could finally breathe with your lungs’ full capacity, not feeling like you were choking on words anymore.
They were out in the world.
But your face dropped when she erupted in laughter again. “That’s a good one, you almost had me.” Her dismissal made your eyebrows pull together.
She went back to the papers as you stood confused. She didn’t care? She thought it was a joke?
“Can you not take anything seriously?” Your face leaned closer to her in irritation. Why did she have to be like this even now?
“Oh, I can.” She said, taking a bite of her snack before turning to you. “Just not you.” Her face scrunched up in a cute way like she did not just slap you with an insult right across the face.
“What’s going on here?” Great, exactly what you needed. One more of them to mock you.
“Riley’s delusions are worsening.” The redhead laughed out to Wanda as the brunette came to a stop at her side.
Her confused eyes squeezed slightly as she spread her lips in an unsure smile.
“You are my soulmate!” You could not hold it in any more and screamed, wanting her to finally hear you.
But it might not have been the best idea when her head whipped to you with rage all over her face.
You could not tell if it was because of your tone or your insistence on the bond.
“Whatever meds you’re taking, you probably should stop.” Her eyes squinted at you as she spoke, crossing her arms over her chest.
You could not believe her ignorance and dismissiveness. All those years of searching just to get this.
Your jaw clenched hard like never before. She would not diminish the bond you two had. She could insult you however much she wanted, but you would not let her take this away from you.
“Then look.” Your sleeve went up your arm as you harshly tugged on it.
The glowing mark was revealed with letters spelling the redhead’s name. Your angry and determined eyes stared at her face as she spared the mark only a short glance.
Her teeth gritted, her features tensed as she looked angry and in disbelief. Wanda, on the other hand, seemed to have her eyes frozen on the glowing letters.
You felt like she was tracing them with her gaze before her eyelids faltered.
“Can’t you see that you are my soulmate?”
“And Wanda is my soulmate!” The redhead screamed out in your face, getting up from her chair. “Not some useless, time-traveling weirdo who is so unwanted—
“Nat.” Wanda breathed out with wide eyes, trying to stop her girlfriend as she finally snapped out of her trance.
But she continued, staring right into your eyes. “—that she has to lie about her mark for someone to pay attention to her.” She took a step closer to you, her head tilting up as she made sure you would not look away. “I bet you scribbled it on there with some fucking highlighter.”
“Natasha!” Wanda’s voice almost yelled out as she stared at the redhead in disbelief.
Her words were laced with malice, pure hatred sipping from them as she directed it solely at you. You physically stopped your mouth from twitching, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you—of getting anything out of you.
It was all in her eyes, clear as day, getting more and more vivid the longer you kept staring.
“I could never be your soulmate.” She seethed out at you.
You were not sure how it was possible, but it felt like her words physically hurt you.
Poking out your tongue, you wet your lips before smacking them. Your head nodded slowly as you stared into her eyes.
“Understood.”
Your heart was breaking as you turned around to take your leave. The ringing in your ears started becoming unbearable. Your head got dizzy as you fought the tears that tried to come out of your eyes, blurring your vision.
That was it.
She hated you. She hated you enough to reject the bond. Because that was what she had just done, right? She refused you.
And you could not help but refuse to believe it.
You had gone out of your way to avoid both women since the conversation—if you could even call it that.
It didn’t seem to bother the redhead. The insults still would be thrown your way whenever you would find yourself in the same room.
But you made sure to leave as quickly as possible.
You could also see others giving each other questioning looks after two weeks of you barely saying a word to Natasha and Wanda.
Lately, you hadn’t felt physically well which was a great excuse. Frequent headaches and dizziness accompanied you almost every day.
They had been getting gradually worse with a few better days here and there. But the intensity could be unbearable at times.
You tried to focus on something else than the pain.
“Do you want to spar?” A ringing noise was traveling through your head like a damn bell as you held it in your hands. “Riley?”
Your head shot up from looking at the floor, mouth agape as you stared at the man in front of you.
“Huh?” Your eyes squinted as you lifted the corners of your mouth. The light seemed to be extra blinding to your eyes today. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”
Your palms went to your forehead before you slid your fingers over your eyes, trying to get rid of the stinging feeling.
“I asked if you wanted to spar.” Sam’s voice barely reached your ears as you tried to fight the high-pitched sound in your head.
“I uh—” You determined the risk of him completely beating you up due to the state you were in today. “Sure, one round.” And the answer was that it would do you no harm in the end.
Maybe he could get rid of that stupid sound with a good punch.
You quickly got up from the bench and followed him to the mat before getting into a fighting stance.
He seemed a bit blurry, but you blamed it on the sunlight coming through the window.
“You ready?” His cheerful voice made you snort as a smile broke out on your face for the first time in the last few weeks.
Your fists raised lazily as Sam’s body distorted, splitting in two.
“Bring it on, grandpa.” Your fingers made a wave motion as you felt your legs give out.
“Riley!” Sam’s tilted, running form was the last thing you saw before everything went black.
“Ugh.” Your eyes could barely open as multiple groans of displeasure kept leaving your mouth. “Where am I?” Your raspy voice let out while you tried to rub your forehead as cables dangled in front of your face.
Everything was blurry, slowly getting into place the more awake you were getting.
Your head was banging, causing you to hiss when you lifted yourself up the bed. Looking down, you realized it was a hospital bed.
Your gaze started jumping all over the place, noticing the machine on your left that kept beeping and the cupboard with medicine and injections.
“Slow down.” Sam raised from the chair with extended arms as he tried to calm you down. “You are in medical.” He gently grabbed your arm before helping you up to sit more comfortably on the bed. “Doctor Cho said there was nothing wrong in the scans and you can go, but you should come for a check-up in a few weeks.”
Medical?
Scans?
Check-up?
Your eyes squeezed shut before blinking rapidly.
“What happened?” You finally started asking good questions.
It would be good to know what the hell was going on.
“Your ass knocked itself out before I could.” Sam said amusedly, getting a deep chuckle out of you. It quickly turned into a coughing fit that made the man get back up in horror. “You good?”
His concerned voice was completely different from his terrified face which caused you to laugh again.
“I’m fine.” His eyebrow quirked as you laid your head back down and tilted it to him. “I get to see your ugly face again.”
His face dropped at your words as he pouted. He was your closest friend here. You hadn’t known each other for long, but it was safe to say you did not trust anyone else more than him—besides Sharon.
“I will take my leave now, thank you.” His head shook at you in a sassy way before he got up from the chair.
“Don’t be a baby.” You could use some more help. Especially, with reaching your room.
His laugh erupted in the room as his arms hung loosely at his sides. “I’m just gonna get you some clothes for a change. I’ll be right back.” He tapped you on the shoulder before leaving the medbay, making you stay alone with your thoughts.
They did not waste time swarming your head again like hornets.
You had passed out. Maybe those headaches had been more serious than you'd thought. But there was nothing in the scans. You hadn’t suffered any head injury.
It did not make sense.
But one thing was sure, you needed rest. Exhaling loudly, you let your eyes fall closed.
Whatever was happening, it would figure itself out. You had worse problems—one called Natasha.
You had way too much free time at hands. Fury had heard about the gym incident and immediately had put you off any upcoming missions for the next two weeks.
That quickly had changed into a month when you’d tried to argue with him. You’d hoped Sharon would’ve helped you with convincing Nick, but she’d been worse than him, not wanting to even listen to your great ideas and excuses.
Her stance had been clear and firm, no budging possible. As much as it’d made you annoyed, you couldn’t have helped the smile on your face at how much she’d reminded you of Peggy.
You were proud of her. And she was making sure you would stay away from danger while sick.
So, you decided to drink your ‘sickness’ away at the common area’s bar. Tony would have to restock everything since bottle after bottle kept going empty in your hands.
You were not sure why you were doing this to yourself. Alcohol did not have much effect on you. Your powers altered your DNA to the point that things like aging and getting drunk were irrelevant—different.
Maybe it was the taste that made you keep going. Or maybe the tiny spark of hope that—at one point—it would start working.
“Hey.” Your head turned to the voice, ready to greet whoever was coming before you saw the person’s face.
A grunt passed your lips before the bottle connected with them again as you looked straight at the bar, the liquor pouring down your throat when you tilted your head back.
“You might want to slow down.” The brunette chuckled out upon seeing all the empty bottles, but you sensed the nervousness in the tone as she took steps toward you.
Her words were not appreciated, making you give her a side eye before taking another sip.
She quickly cleared her throat as her fingers fiddled anxiously. “I heard that uh—” Her voice cut off as she swallowed. “—you were rushed to the medbay.”
She sounded cautious, unsure, like she did not know what was okay to say and what would make your anger unleash on her.
Your head slowly turned to her, raising an eyebrow as the bottle clinked against the marble bartop.
“I don’t need your pity.” Your eyes squinted at her. “You can go back to not giving a shit for all I care.” Your bored voice was muffled by the glass pressing against your mouth as you took another gulp of alcohol.
She could save herself—and you—time by leaving you alone. You hadn’t needed her company before and did not need it now.
Her stance faltered, gaze dropping to the floor as she pulled on her sleeve. You could see how her mouth dropped open, her tongue pressing against her bottom teeth before she clicked it.
You stopped yourself from reacting, but it surprised you when she slowly took a seat next to you. Her fingers held the sleeves as she put her hands on the bartop.
“Do you have one more?” Her voice sounded small, like she was scared to say anything to you, pointing at the bottle in your hand.
Your eyes studied her for a second as she stared at you. It was different. No usual malice behind them. You sucked in your cheeks before reaching over the bar and grabbing a bottle.
You handed it to her without a word, her hand wrapping around the item gently.
Despite the silence, you did not feel awkward. But frankly, you had enough of feeling out of place for no other reason than somebody disliking you.
“How do you feel—”
“What do you want, Wanda?” You did not have time for whatever game she wanted to play this time.
You were tired, annoyed—and pretty hopeless. Your life had been in shambles for the last few weeks. It was not necessary to add more to it.
As much as you kept repeating that it was Natasha’s choice, it hurt. The pain felt like never before. If you counted all the headaches and whatnots, it’d been quite miserable.
Her finger tapped against the glass as she stared at it. “I want to say I’m sorry.” Her eyes moved to you as her lips formed into a tight-lipped pout. “I was horrible to you and had started all of this—animosity.” Her jaw popped as she clenched it.
It genuinely surprised you. You did not expect her to apologize or take accountability—to do anything really.
The look on her face seemed like she tried to hold herself together while she stared blankly ahead.
“If I hadn’t attacked you at the airport, it could’ve gone differently.” She nodded, but more to herself than you. “What Nat said was unacceptable.”
Your throat tightened before you swallowed harshly. “I don’t really want to—”
“I’m sorry for that.” She quickly cut you off as her voice wavered. You looked at her confused with a tilted head.
“It’s not your apology to make.” The corners of your mouth tugged up before falling as your eyes blinked quickly. “And I don’t care anymore anyway.”
Your dismissal was followed by the bottle of alcohol pressing against your mouth as you took a long swing.
“That’s not true.” Her voice was gentle, but the words ticked you off, making your features switch quickly.
“And how can you know how I feel?” You almost seethed out at her, letting the anger get the best of you.
You could not help it. This topic was not your favorite and continuing it only made you more frustrated.
“Because I don’t know if I would survive if she did that to me.” Her fingers curled around the sleeve before she pulled it up, revealing her mark.
The words were glowing, letters spelling the same name as on your wrist.
You stared in shock. This whole time, you had thought their relationship was of convenience. That Natasha had lied just to get rid of you.
“I—” Your gaping was so intense it could be considered impolite at this point. “But—” You quickly rolled up your sleeve, seeing the same name.
The glow was still there but dimmer than before.
“I don’t know how it’s possible.” The brunette let out, sounding like she tried not to cry. “It’s the only thing I could think about for the last few weeks, but I have no answers.” Her shoulders shrugged as she smiled sadly at you before letting out a dry chuckle.
It did not make any sense. Two people with the same bond, the same person. It went against everything you knew about the soulmate bond—which was not much—but you did not expect this out of all things.
“I want you to know that I am really sorry for everything I’ve said and done.” Her eyes looked sincerely into yours as she spoke softly, her body turning to you on the barstool. “I would like to start over if you’ll have me.” It sounded almost like a whisper as she stared at you warily.
You were not sure what to say. Should you agree? Or was it better to stay away from her?
It was not very smart to have enemies on your team. She also seemed genuinely apologetic.
But what if she wanted a relationship now only because of the marks?
“Is it because of this?” You pointed at your wrist, then hers. It would not surprise you if that was her goal.
You were not sure what to trust anymore.
Her tongue poked out to wet her lips. “I would want to understand what and why it happened.” Ah, of course. “But it’s optional.” Your eyebrow raised in question as she raised her gaze to you. “I want to get to know you.” Her green eyes staring deeply into your blue ones. “Not the person I thought I knew you were.”
To say you were caught off guard was not enough. This entire day had been a surprise.
But this—this whole conversation—it was the biggest one.
You had a choice to make. You had to choose wisely. But you already knew the answer as you let a small smile break on your lips.
“You don’t do friendly fire, do you?” Her laughter erupted around the place as she threw her head back.
You stared at her scrunched up face as she kept smiling, finally feeling good for the first time in weeks as your grin widened.
It had been great three weeks since you had made amends with Wanda. She had been nicer and attentive. Her presence brought a smile to your face instead of anger now.
She would always greet you with a ‘good morning’ and save a gym session to have one with you.
It felt good. It felt better. It finally felt like you did not have to fight for your life every second of every day.
Minus the times you would come across the redhead. You noticed the tension between the two women. It was hard not to. You were positive everyone from the special forces team had noticed it by now.
Their conversations around the team were rare or only a few words would be exchanged. You hadn’t tried to press the topic with Wanda, deciding that she would tell you whenever she was ready and wanted to do so.
“You’re not coming?” The woman in question came up to you with a confused face.
Her eyebrows were scrunched as she loosely gestured to you with her hand.
“Nope.” You replied from your seat, holding a book as you stared up at her. “I’m on house arrest for one more week.” Your eyes widened with your eyebrows raising as your sassy tone made Sam and Bucky snort in the corner of the living area.
It had been a pain in your ass not to be able to go on any missions. You had felt useless, just wandering around the building, trying to get to recruits’ training sessions before Sharon would find you and kick you out.
She had let you help her with paperwork, saying over and over how much trouble she could’ve gotten into if Fury had noticed.
But it was only one more week now. You could do it.
“But—” Wanda struggled to find words—or more like excuses as she pouted. “Your powers would come in really handy on this one.”
“Don’t they always?” Your smirk made her eyes roll before she crossed her arms.
Your eyes slowly averted from her and back to the book when she did the scary head tilt you had come to find out was more serious than you had thought.
“I’ll see you later then.” Her fingers flicked your forehead before she turned around and started walking away.
“No friendly fire!” You shouted after her, reminding her of the conversation at the bar.
You heard her laughter as it slowly faded away in the hallway.
This was torture. Worse than staying at home. You were attacked from every side with blasting guns, but you were not allowed to use your powers.
Doctor Cho had recommended restraining yourself from doing it as much as possible—which to Fury meant no powers at all.
You wanted to bang your head against the nearest tree in frustration as another blast landed next to you.
“You assholes!” You yelled out, dragging out the word and unleashing bullets with clenched teeth like a maniac.
It did not last long when the clicking sound reached your ears, making you realize that the magazine was out.
You tried to quickly change it, but it would not budge, making you anxious as you saw enemy agents running in your direction.
You were in deep shit, making peace with the fact it would be your last seconds on this earth unless you broke Fury’s orders.
But when you saw red cloud surrounding each agent, lifting them up from the ground before they flew miles away from you, you knew there would be no need to break anything.
“Do you have a death wish?” Wanda landed next to you, looking at you like you were crazy.
“I can’t use my powers.” Your head leaned forward as you quickly gestured to yourself, still holding the gun. Your head was shaking as a grumpy look took over your features.
The brunette, however, stared at you blankly, not believing how stupid you sounded.
“Unless in danger, Riley, in danger like five seconds ago.” Her eyes rolled at you as she groaned to herself, but you caught a small smile creeping up on her face.
“Wow, now you work for two?” That was before both of your heads whipped to a familiar voice, causing Wanda’s happy expression to quickly disappear. “I didn’t know you liked to pick up slack.”
The redhead’s words cut through the air as she stared at her girlfriend before glancing at you with a tensed jaw.
Wanda’s body visibly went stiff as she stood straighter, gritting her teeth slightly.
The comment had to hit a nerve, had to be personal, judging by the brunette’s reaction.
“Only for the useless ones I guess.” She bit back, making your lips roll in as she jabbed at the redhead’s words from a few months ago during the argument you and Natasha had had.
You knew she did not mean to insult you. She did not think of you like that.
Wanda’s eyes did not leave the other woman as the brunette started walking, passing the redhead whose eyes were trained on you now.
“So kind.” She mumbled, her tongue poking out as it ran across her bottom lip.
You felt uncomfortable the longer she stared at you like at an animal. But a breath of relief escaped your mouth when she quickly turned around and followed after Wanda.
You just wanted to be back home and rest—far away from the drama.
The redhead’s mood had gotten even worse when you and Wanda had started spending more time together.
Daily walks full of anything-and-everything conversations had been the highlight of your day as you had both laughed more than ever.
Every week, you’d had a movie night together, popcorn and drinks necessary as Wanda threw it at the screen, booing whenever someone would do something dumb.
You’d helped her with cleaning it up after, causing a popcorn fight that would escalate to a pillow one.
It’d been going great.
For the most part.
“Riley!” Your body almost froze in place upon hearing the voice. This was a very bad moment for her to see you. “Where are you going?”
The brunette ran up to you quickly with a smile as you tried not to give away your nervousness.
“To uh—” Your mind was completely blank. There was nothing you could come up with. “I have to talk to Doctor Cho.” You decided to say the truth.
Or some of it.
“Oh.” Her face scrunched up cutely as the gears in her head were visibly turning. “I’ll go with you.”
Well, shit.
“I don’t wanna waste your time—”
“Nonsense.” You did not even have a second to react when she hooked her arm over yours before pulling you to the medbay. “I have all the time in the world with you.”
She laughed at her own joke, making you chuckle anxiously. You sounded stupid, causing you to clear your throat before smiling.
This could go either very well or very badly.
You hoped the first option would work. For your own good.
“Riley, hello.” Doctor Cho’s voice caused your head to turn. “How can I help?”
She gestured for you to sit on one of the beds as she pulled up a chair for herself. You followed the instructions as she put on gloves.
“I just wanted to uh—” Your eyes went to the brunette, causing them to connect with hers as she sent you a warm smile. “—to do the check-up from the last time.” You were choosing your words carefully due to Wanda’s presence.
There was something you did not tell her about. It was not that important—or so you had told yourself.
“Of course!” Doctor Cho grabbed your head, putting slight pressure in different spots. “Did you have any headaches or dizziness? Any other symptoms?”
She seemed focused on you. Just like Wanda. Maybe the witch was too focused when you glanced at her just to see her watching you like a hawk.
It made your anxiety spike as you swallowed thickly.
“Um, no?” You wanted to slap yourself for how it came out. Both women’s eyebrows raised in question. “Besides a small thing.” Doctor Cho stopped for a second as she looked into your eyes, waiting for you to continue. “Very tiny, actually.” Your anxious laughter did not make it better. “I had a nosebleed a few months ago.”
Your fast words were not fast enough for Wanda to miss them. You could tell that by the way her eyebrow raised to her hairline as she folded her arms over her chest.
“Huh.” Doctor Cho let out in thought while your eyes fell down just to see Wanda’s hip jut out. “The scans from the last two check-ups were fine.”
You only nodded, your eyes jumping from the brunette who was clearly unhappy with you to anything else in the room.
“Have you met your soulmate?” Doctor Cho suddenly asked, her expression serious.
“I did.” You said with a lowered gaze as you bit your bottom lip. “But I was kind of—dismissed if I can say so.”
“That could be the cause of your sickness.” Your confused face made the woman fix her glasses before folding her hands. “Any type of rejection of the bond can cause physical illness. It’s possible you are experiencing all these symptoms because your bond is weakening.” If that was true, somebody needed to make new rules. “Our bonds are tied to us, their strength determines our health.”
You were sick because somebody did not want you.
It definitely had to be the craziest news you’d ever heard.
You were still in quite a shock after leaving the medbay. You did not even remember getting to the living room area. Maybe because you could barely wrap your head around what you had just been told.
Or maybe because of the silence that surrounded you during the entire walk as Wanda hadn’t said a word to you.
“How could you not tell me?” Until now. “I thought we were friends, that we were good now.” She was pacing in front of you as you were sitting on the couch.
“We are—”
“Are we?” Her voice was laced with hurt as she looked at you upset, stopping her movements.
It made guilt spark in you. But it had happened shortly after the gym incident. You hadn’t been that close back then.
“Come here.” You gestured for her to take a seat next to you as your body tilted inward
Her grumpy expression almost made you chuckle before she took a seat next to you, her arms folding over her chest.
“I’m sorry for not telling you.” Your words were sincere as she sighed out exaggeratedly. “I promise it won’t happen again.” Her eyes connected with yours, jumping between them as her grumpiness started slowly fading away. “I will give you my medical history as a Christmas gift.”
Her scoff quickly changed into laughter as she looked away from you. Your mouth spread into an open-mouthed smile, watching her head being thrown back before turning back to you.
“You are so stupid.” She playfully smacked your arm as you chuckled louder. Pulling her leg up on the couch, she turned her body to you, leaning against the back. Her face turned grim quickly before she put her hand on yours as it rested on your lap. “I’m sorry she’s causing all of this.”
Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion before the realization dawned on you. “Oh.” Your other arm landed on the back of the couch as your head leaned on your palm. “It’s—whatever.” You smiled at her lightly. “A small hiccup.”
Her lips pressed together as she pulled them in, giving your hand a small squeeze. Her green eyes were staring into yours in silence and you noticed how there was a hint of blue in them.
The dim light of the room lit up her face as the darkness was peaking through the windows. It was nice—content. Your lips were shaped into a warm smile as none of you said a word.
Her expression was soft when her lips parted, causing your eyes to drop to them without thinking. Your heartbeat picked up when her fingers curled, scratching your hand lightly.
Her breath shuddered, making you quickly look back up just to see her gaze directed lower than your line of sight.
You were frozen in place, not knowing what to do or what was happening. But it felt good—and wrong at the same time.
You did not even notice your heads had gotten closer until you could feel her breath on your face.
“Um.” You cleared your throat, quickly turning your head to the side as Wanda’s body immediately leaned back with her gaze snapping to the floor. “Do you want anything to drink?”
The seat felt hot, making you get up quickly as you went up to the bar.
“Uh—I—” You heard her stutter. But you were glad, it gave you time to cool down as you breathed quickly to calm down. “Sure, why not.” She finally said, making you grab two cans of soda.
This was wrong. She was with Natasha, her soulmate—your soulmate.
The thoughts started plaguing your mind as you sat back on the couch, putting some space between as you scootched into the corner.
She took the can with a smile, but avoided your eyes as she popped it open.
This time, the silence felt weird until she grabbed a remote and turned on the TV, surfing through the channels and stopping on a random movie.
You did not waste time getting indulged in it. Anything was better than facing what had just happened.
Everything had seemed to be slow, but you were not sure when the things escalated. Was it even a correct word? Did anything escalate?
Maybe it was only in your head. Maybe she had caught your gaze dropping to her lips. It could’ve made her uncomfortable.
It was wrong. You could not have this happen again. You did not want to ruin this friendship.
Not again.
It seemed the brunette wanted to make it even easier for you as she had barely talked to you in the next week or two.
You hadn’t been keeping track of time too much when Fury had started sending you on more missions.
But it’d been impossible not to notice that Wanda had been trying to get out of spending time with you.
You felt horrible. It only proved the voices in your head that you had fucked everything up by the small action.
Your eyes had done it on instinct. The movement had caught your attention. You hadn’t intended to make her uncomfortable.
It was too late for intentions now.
She’d been acting weird, still having small-talks with you, but the change was big enough for you to fall into the spiral of thoughts.
“Hi.” You said quietly, taking a spot next to Wanda as she stood at the countertop next to the dryer. You made sure to be cautious with the distance and movements, not wanting to scare her away.
Her body visibly tensed for a second before relaxing, sparing you a short glance as you put your clothing into the washing machine.
“Hey.” She replied shortly, letting the silence hang around you two as she kept folding her clothes.
The awkwardness could not be worse. You wanted to just leave, but you had to show her your actions were strictly friendly.
You didn’t want her to think you wanted to break up her relationship with Natasha. They had enough problems as it seemed.
“Do you want to grab coffee today?” Your eyes did not dare to go anywhere near the brunette’s face, focusing solely on the clothes before you closed the machine.
She halted her movements, finally looking at you for longer than five seconds. But she stayed quiet for even longer than that, making you suck in your lips as you pressed the buttons.
You should’ve left her alone—
“Sure.” The speed with which your eyes snapped to her in surprise could not be stopped.
You quickly composed yourself, feeling relief and joy at her agreement as she smiled at you warmly.
Maybe not everything was ruined.
After that day, it had gotten better—back to normal.
She was not trying to get away from you like you were a disease anymore.
Which was a huge plus. Your self-esteem had definitely gotten better again.
Now, you were just jamming to songs while sorting out your DVDs with movies in the common area. It had been such a nice and peaceful day.
The first one in a long time.
“Show me your wrist.” Your eyebrows scrunched in complete confusion as you stared at the tall bookshelf in front of you.
Were you hearing voices? What the hell was happening?
“Riley!” A hand connected with your shoulder, causing you to jump in fear.
“Oh, shit!” You let out, breathing heavily as your wide eyes stared at Wanda. “Don’t scare me like that.”
She did not seem to care as she stared at you with a serious face, her features were tensed.
“Show me your wrist.” Her request was puzzling to you.
Your wrist? She had seen your wrist a million times.
“For what?” The question made her nostrils flare as your head tilted.
She was being weird. Not like a few weeks ago, but still weird.
“Just show me.” Her impatience was showing as she stared at your forearm in anticipation.
Whatever was going on, you were not sure if you wanted to know.
“Fine, but why?” You said, rolling up your sleeve and revealing the name on your skin.
There was nothing new. Still the person who wanted to have nothing to do with you. The only difference was how dim the glow had become, barely visible at this point.
Like you would’ve never met your soulmate in the first place.
The brunette gaped at it, her eyes wide as she stood frozen in her spot. She wasn’t saying anything, she wasn’t doing anything—just staring.
“Wanda?” Something had to happen. Her features turned into anxiety as her breathing staggered.
“I gotta go!” And just like that, she turned around and scurried away.
“Wanda!” You called out, but she was gone in a second like a ghost, leaving you alone and confused.
She had been gone for the rest of the day. It was impossible to find her anywhere. Assuming she had probably left the building, you had gone back to your things and training.
You had visited Doctor Cho for one more check-up, stating that the dizziness and headaches had been pretty much gone by now.
There hadn’t been any other accidents as well.
She had cleared you and had assured you she would let Fury know you were now completely healthy and able to use your powers.
You were on the way to your room after receiving the good news, smiling broadly to yourself.
You could finally go back to doing all kinds of missions, not just stake-out ones.
Loud screaming snapped you out of your happy humming, your head raising in concern as you stared down the hall.
The voices were so muffled you had no idea who it could be. But it sounded serious. Your walk resumed, the yelling becoming louder until it was clear to you it was coming from Wanda and Natasha’s room.
“I’m done!” The door whipped open, causing you to stumble back as the redhead came into your view. Your wide eyes met her furious ones when she turned around to leave.
You were genuinely scared and flabbergasted when her features hardened at you, her finger raising and pointing at you angrily.
“You always have to fuck everything up, don’t you?!” Her words were laced with venom before she stormed off.
Your gaze froze in place, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Fuck everything up? What could you have possibly done to her? You’d been avoiding each other like fire for months.
Shaking your head, you took a cautious step forward, your fingers placed on the door as you pushed it to open fully.
“Wanda?” You saw the woman sitting on the bed, her head in her hands.
She jumped up upon hearing your voice, her face looked terrified as she stared wide-eyed at your bewildered face.
The room looked like a mess as your eyes slowly skimmed around it. You were convinced a hurricane had gone through it a couple of times.
When your gaze raised to the brunette, you caught how she quickly pulled on her sleeve, holding it in place, making your eyebrows scrunch even more than before.
“What is going on?” She stood quietly, sniffling to herself. “Come on, Wands, we’ve known each other for over half a year.” You didn’t want her to feel attacked, but you could not help without knowing what was happening.
She fiddled with the material of her clothing, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as anxiety colored her features.
Finally, she grabbed the sleeve before slowly moving it up.
Your eyes widened in shock when you realized what she was showing you. Immediately, you went up to the bed before taking a seat as you felt like your legs would give out at any moment.
You had expected everything but this. How was it possible? It could not be. The universe was messing with you—with your head.
It had to be a mistake.
But you could not stop staring at Wanda’s wrist, your name glowing brightly on it as she stood in front of you with a rolled-up sleeve.
Nothing made sense to you anymore. The soulmate could change? How would that even be possible, it was supposed to be the special bond between people.
Unchangeable, unbreakable.
But you knew better than anyone else now how the ‘unbreakable’ part worked. Your soulmate didn't want you.
“How—” You uttered out in disbelief, your hands pointing at the letters, but nothing else managed to come out of your mouth.
“I don’t know.” The brunette let out in a breath. Her tear-stained cheeks almost broke you when your gaze went up to hers.
She looked distraught, heartbroken, and tired. You could only assume how much of a toll the argument had taken on her. You did not have to guess what it was about.
Now, Natasha’s words made more sense than before. You could not blame her for being angry, but there was nothing you could’ve done to make the mark change.
You had no idea it could be done in the first place.
“Is this why—” Your thoughts went back to the interaction you had with the brunette earlier today. “—why you asked to see my wrist?”
She sniffled, nodding in confirmation. Her eyes were completely focused on her fiddling fingers.
“I thought maybe you had mine.” She said, wiping her nose as she looked up. “I needed an explanation, a reason.” She continued, her voice wavering as she tried to stop tears from coming out. “But when I saw it was the same, I just—” She paused, taking a deeper breath. “I didn’t know what to do.”
She quickly took a seat next to you. Her eyes were red as she covered them with her palms before sliding her hands to her head.
“She broke up with me.” The raspiness of her voice made the words that much sadder as breath caught in your throat in shock.
You felt terrible for Wanda. She was a great friend when she didn’t actively try to make your life miserable. Under all those layers of hatred she’d had for you was a sweet and helpful person.
You hated that this was happening to her.
But you could understand Natasha’s point of view. The amount of betrayal she probably felt right now was unimaginable.
Your arms went around the brunette, her body pressing to your front as she laid her head under your chin.
“Don’t worry.” Your hand rubbed her back as she shook in your arms, the silent cries spilled from her mouth again, making tears flood down her face. “We will figure it out.”
You hadn’t left her side since then. Two months had passed, full of you supporting and entertaining Wanda.
She had been miserable for the first two weeks, only crying into your shirt multiple times a day. Anything that had reminded her of Natasha made tears spill from her eyes like a waterfall.
The redhead had been like a ghost. You had barely seen her around, wondering how possible it would be for a person to be invisible like that.
It had become clearer when Sam had told you she had buried herself in missions, begging Fury to give her the longest ones.
You’d felt sorry for her, but you had noticed that the space Natasha had put between her and Wanda had worked well.
At the three-week mark, the brunette finally started smiling and replying to your jokes. You had almost forgotten how her laughter sounded until she had burst out one night when you’d watched sitcoms.
Her lit up face could not have looked cuter and better than in that moment.
After a month, she had wanted to go for walks again, get ice cream, or a pizza from your favorite place.
She was almost back to normal—or as normal as one could be after a break-up.
She had been more playful, more focused during training sessions, and bolder.
You had helped her the best you could without crossing a line. You wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable or scare her away.
So, you had kept your distance while being as supportive as possible. You knew she still loved Natasha. As much as she had tried to avoid the topic recently, it was clear she still had feelings for her.
She also stopped being anxious, finding peace as she indulged in reading again.
Just like right now.
A romance book was in her hands as she curled up in an armchair. A blanket thrown over her as her eyes skimmed over the words.
You were sitting in the same room, trying to figure out a good way to describe your last mission. Fury needed it for the debrief meeting that would be in two days.
The pen was banging against your head as it stayed empty, being unable to come up with anything good.
You despised this part of your job. It was stupid and useless—to you.
There were only so many ways you could talk about infiltrating enemy’s bases and bad guys attacking you.
Fury had always given you a look whenever the description had sounded too familiar. You would simply use the same one over and over again whenever it applied.
So, he had told you that this one would not be accepted if he saw anything similar to the previous ones.
You glanced at Wanda, hoping she would be finishing her romance story sometime soon and possibly help you with this nonsense.
But when you saw her focused expression, you could only sigh to yourself hopelessly.
The pen pressed against your lips before you started clicking it. There was nothing your brain could make up. Nothing new. The old versions were running through your head like a horse race.
It was the dumbest thing—
“Do you not like me?” Your body jumped in fear when the brunette harshly slammed her book closed.
Your wide eyes snapped to her in horror before you realized there was no danger. Not yet, at least.
“Uh, what?” You asked her, not hearing her words from how much you almost shat your pants at the sudden sound.
“Do you—” She repeated slowly, her eyes looking into yours in determination. “—not like me?”
The question almost made your eyes roll from how much it seemed to melt your brain. There was not a single thought in your head as you fell into a hole of confusion.
“Not like you?” You said again, making Wanda nod, as you hoped to understand her thinking process. “I do, we’re friends.” You spluttered out.
You had no idea whether the answer was correct or not. No matter how many times you repeated her words in your head, you could not understand what was the reason for her question.
Of course, you liked her. You would not spend your time with her if you did not consider her at least a friend.
“Ugh.” She groaned, her legs untangling as she pushed herself up from her seat, the blanket falling on the armchair. “That’s not what I meant.” Her mumble puzzled you even more as she walked to one of the shelves and put her book away.
It wasn’t?
Your eyebrows pulled together as you stared blankly ahead. Snapping out of the trance, you blinked rapidly as your eyes focused on the woman.
“W-well, then.” You got up from your seat. “What did you mean?” You hoped she would just tell you instead of having you figure it out.
You already guessed once and it was incorrect.
“Do you not like me?” Her body whipped around, facing you as you saw signs of frustration on her features. “Like me?”
Like her?
She sounded so confusing and weird.
Why wouldn’t you like—
Oh.
Oh.
“Why do you care if I do or not?” You asked from pure curiosity, your lips turning into an open-mouthed smile. But you were not happy. You were anxious.
The flashback from that moment on the couch came back to you, remembering how she had been acting right after, making you gulp.
“Because!” She groaned, throwing her arms up. “Is it something about me?” Her hand pressed between her breasts as she pointed at herself, making your eyes lower there involuntarily before you swallowed thickly. “Is it because of what I’d done at the beginning?”
You almost got whiplash from how your head shook at the sudden question. “What? No.” The words ran out of your mouth.
“Then what? Am I too ugly for you?” Her voice sounded like she was about to get offended, her eyebrow raising at you in challenge.
“No!”
“Too short? Too skinny?” She kept questioning, trying very hard to find out the reason. “Is it because of my powers?”
“No, Wanda.” You denied again, your palms pressing against your forehead as you rubbed your eyebrows while she kept throwing her arms around.
“Then what?” She took a step forward, her features hardening, but it was only a mask. You could see the uncertainty, the doubt, and the nervousness. “Because you keep saying no, and you keep doing nothing while I’m losing my mind for you—” Your eyes widened. She was what? “—getting your freaking name on my wrist from—” She was gradually getting more frustrated as her voice sounded stern and grounded at the same time. “—all the thoughts about how it would feel to have your lips on mine, but they never—”
You finally managed to shut her up, doing exactly what she wanted. Your lips almost smashed into hers, causing her body to tense for a second before you felt it relax.
Your mouth moved slowly against hers as you lifted your hand to her face. Gently cupping her jaw, you moved her face closer as she fisted the front of your shirt.
It was soft, delicate—perfect. You took your time kissing her and she did not seem to mind when both her hands went to your sides, lightly grasping at your clothing.
Both of your hands held her face as you both kept going, her sighs being swallowed by you as she tilted her head a bit.
You never felt anything like this before. It was strong despite how gentle you both were. You did not want to stop. It was consuming you, your head screaming for more.
You could keep her lips on yours forever.
You loved—
“Sss.” You hissed, causing the kiss to break as your face scrunched in pain. “What the—” Your eyes dropped to your wrist where you felt the sharp stinging.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Wanda's frantic questions were not enough to tear your gaze away as you stared down in shock. “Riley?”
She asked again in confusion before dropping her eyes to your wrist. She became quiet as a gasp escaped her mouth.
Your wrist was glowing brightly like never before, the letters spelling her name where Natasha’s used to be.
“I—” She stuttered out in surprise, but nothing else managed to come out.
Your eyes went up to hers as a smile crept up on your lips.
“I’m a bit late to the party, but still attended.” Your joke made the brunette huff in amusement. “But—” Her happy face changed quickly at the word as you licked your lips. “We need to figure this out.” You looked at her seriously. “With Nat.”
Her mouth formed into a thin line as anxiety took over her again. But she nodded, letting a small smile appear on her face.
“With Nat.”
You and Wanda had decided to take things slow. You didn’t want to jump into it just because your wrists said so. You had no idea how stable the soulmate bonds actually were after witnessing the name-change first-hand.
Flinging it into Natasha’s face also wouldn’t be the nicest thing to do, so you kept everything private. It hadn’t gone further than stealing kisses here and there.
You both were adamant about finding out the cause of what had happened. Wanda’s guilt was making itself more and more known whenever Natasha’s name came up.
The brunette confessed she had feelings for you for a while. She did not want to admit them to herself, but after she had seen the way you’d looked at her lips, she could not help it anymore.
But she could not deny she still loved Natasha. Despite all the arguments and mysteries, she felt the redhead was still her soulmate—just like you.
It was clear to you Wanda was more than a friend to you ever since you had almost kissed her that night, but you hadn't wanted to get in between her and Nat.
But ever since the name on your wrist changed, you could not help but wonder if there still was a chance for the redhead to finally accept you.
You were done with insults, with avoiding each other. You wanted to be civil at least. At best, you hoped it would somehow work out for the three of you.
You finally got a chance to possibly start some progress when you caught the redhead sitting alone at night. She was in the secluded corner of the living room, separated by the wall.
One soft bench was placed against the wall as her face reflected in the window. Her eyes were blankly staring through it, knees up to her chin as she leaned her head on it.
She looked small.
Exhausted.
Lonely.
You debated for a second if disturbing her right now would be a good idea. Your gaze lowered to the ground as you licked your lips.
Letting out a deep breath, you took quiet steps in her direction, hoping with your whole heart she would not behead you.
“Hi.” Your quiet voice made her eyes look at you from their corner. She did not acknowledge you, staring back outside in silence.
But you noticed how her jaw tightened, her shoulders tensed, and her gaze hardened as she made sure not to look at you.
Without a word, you slowly came up to the bench and took a seat next to the redhead. Her arms circled her legs harder as she shifted in her spot.
“What do you want?” Her harsh tone did not make you falter or flinch. You expected that. “Did you come here to laugh in my face?” The bitterness made your lips twitch in sadness.
She still thought the same of you. But how could she not? All she knew about you was that you were her enemy.
“I came to talk.” You said softly.
Her scoff was followed by a dry laugh as she raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Cause our talks are so interesting.” Her head was shaking in amusement and irritation as she pressed her tongue against her bottom teeth.
You took a slow breath, trying not to let her negativity get in the way.
“They can be if you give me a chance.” Her eyes didn't budge until she turned her head to you. Her eyes were red, undoubtedly from crying and you felt your chest tighten at the thought. Your eyelids faltered as your mouth opened. “Please.”
She stared deeply into your eyes, her head started shaking as you saw the tremble of her chin. “You took everything from me.” She let out in a whisper. “You took her.” Her voice betraying her as a small cry slipped through.
Sniffling, she blinked quickly as her hands wiped her eyes. She was falling apart right in front of you, trying to hide it unsuccessfully.
The guilt started ripping through your heart as silence embraced both of you. She was right—to some extent—but you could not control someone else’s feelings. You could not control the bond.
Looking down, your eyes went to your covered wrist, calculating how badly it could go if she knew. Or if it would help her understand you were in an unknown territory just like she was.
“She has my name, yes.” The redhead huffed as another whimper attempted to rip through her throat. “But she had yours before.” Your fingers grasped at the sleeve, pulling it up slowly. “Just like I did.” Her face scrunched up in confusion before her gaze fell on your wrist.
She froze in place. Her breathing picked up as her wide eyes kept gaping at the letters on your skin.
She opened her mouth in shock. You could see the million questions running through her face that she wished to ask.
“I have no clue how it is possible.” You admitted to her, making her eyes jump to you. “Wanda and I have feelings for each other.” Her teeth clenched before she sucked in her cheeks as tears glossed over her eyes.
“But she still loves you.” Her mouth twitched. You were not certain if because she thought it was a lie or because she hoped it to be true. “And I’m sure we can find a way as well.” Your confidence was a long time coming. It had to be said. You wanted to believe that there was love for you two as well. That her name used to be engraved in your skin for a reason. “All I am asking is one chance.”
Her green, glossy eyes stared at your face, searching for something that only she knew. But you had nothing to hide, no reason to lie.
All you wanted was the truth. You wanted to show her the real you and for her to stop hiding behind a mask.
The way her facade faltered as she breathed in with a shudder made you look at her hopefully.
Her eyes softened before her chin scrunched as her shoulders shook, letting her tears flow down her cheeks.
She looked at you differently now. Very differently as she stood in front of you, ready to punch you right in the face.
“You’re just gonna stand like a grandma?” Her taunting made the side of your mouth raise for a second.
Your eye twitched before squinting. She really had a way with words.
It’d been an hour of this already. You had enough. You wanted to go eat.
“No.” You replied. “But you’re gonna be lying on the ground like one soon.” The smirk on your face made the redhead’s head tilt before she pounced on you.
Your forearms went up, shielding your body from an incoming hit. She swung her arm, trying to hit from the side, but you quickly blocked it before turning your body and grabbing her other arm.
Turning your back to her, you pulled her front flash against you before throwing her over your shoulder. She tried to slide from under you, but you were faster, blocking her legs while positioning yourself on top of her.
In the end, your strength was too much.
Your breathing was heavy as it finally gave you some rest.
“Seems like I won.” Your cocky tone made her scoff loudly.
Her raised head fell on the mat as you let go of her limbs, letting her arms lie flat above her.
“Whatever.” She tried to get up, but you didn’t let her, putting more of your body weight on her.
“Ah, ah.” You let out, looking at her with raised eyebrows. She was forgetting something. “I think you owe me a thing or two.”
Her eyes rolled at your stupid smile before a grin spread on her lips. You did not wait any longer before leaning down and connecting them with yours.
You would never get enough of this. They always felt so soft, no matter how roughly she kissed you.
Her arms went up to wrap around your neck as she pulled you closer, forcing you to put your hands on each side of her head to keep yourself up.
“Nat.” Your warning was met with a smirking face. “Not here.” Her hips did not stop moving against you, searching for friction.
“I thought you didn’t care where.” Your eyes rolled hard at her mocking tone, using your words from a few weeks ago against you now.
She had done it a lot in the last six months. It had taken time for you to get to a good spot, but once you had gotten there, it could not have been better.
The door to the gym opened with a gasp following immediately after.
“Are you guys trying to play without me?” Your entire head started rolling in exaggeration as the redhead laughed on the floor.
Sometimes, they could be a lot to handle. It did not mean you were unable to do it.
Standing up, you turned around to see offended Wanda as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her raised eyebrow and tilted head caused your playful plans to vanish instantly.
“She is.” You pointed at Natasha, throwing her under the bus faster than she could throw her knives.
A defensive sound came from her as she sat up on the floor, glaring at you playfully. “Count your days.”
“You would have to catch me first.” You looked over your shoulder as you walked to the door, sending her a cheeky smile. “Good luck with those short legs.”
Her gasp was so loud it bounced off the walls as Wanda laughed loudly.
The redhead did not waste time getting up before running at you and jumping on your back. You stumbled forward at the unexpected impact before grabbing her legs.
“Now, you have to carry me for being mean.” She declared, circling your neck with her arms as Wanda took the redhead’s water bottle.
The Sokovian came up to you as you sent her an amused smile that she returned, shaking her head at Natasha.
Your gaze drifted down to your exposed arms as you threw the redhead higher on your back.
A gentle grin spread on your lips as you stared at your wrists, both glowing brightly with the names of the women you had by your side.
Who would’ve known you could have two soulmates? You guessed that was what the second wrist was for. Because you were lucky like that.
All those travels, fights, tears, and struggles to get here.
Summary ↝ You’ve spent the weekend at your parents' house. You haven’t been in a while, but they were complaining about how you never come. Paying them a visit costs you your sanity. Ellie and Abby are there to help you shake the funk.
Content Warning ↝ Angst, But Cute Ending, Fluff, Depression, Anxiety, Complex-PTSD, Past ED Mention, Cleaning To Cope, Religious Abuse, No Smut. Modern AU.
Author’s Note ↝ Everything written here caters to my experiences with religiously abusive & neglectful parents. If you have an issue or simply want to talk about something I wrote, feel free to dm me for discussion. This is not meant to knock anyone’s ideologies ‹𝟹
You’ve pulled into your driveway after a long weekend with your parents. All the healing you’ve done seems to be for nothing. How can words affect you so easily? Why do you care so much about what they have to say? Your head is right between your two hands, which are holding each side of the steering wheel. You don’t know how long you've been sitting here. Needing the isolation and control more than anything right now.
The rain pours on your car. The mid-fall breeze is blowing through. Each droplet sound reminds you of the showers taken this weekend. The only place you have been able to be fully yourself. The only place away from your parents’ degrading statements. You’re trying not to cry because you don’t want the concerns of Ellie and Abby. Though it is 5 am on a Sunday, they'll probably be asleep.
Finally leaving your car, you grab your duffel bag with the clothes you wore this weekend. All modest materials. Not an inch above the ankle, or a second past your wrist. You couldn’t take the lectures you’d get if you dressed differently, so you chose to comply just for the weekend. You couldn't care less about how the rain was soaking you. As you walk in, the house is silent, and the little ambient lights that were rarely turned off remain.
You throw your clothes and duffel into the washer. Then you hop in the shower. Scrubbing everything thrown at you this weekend. You know soap and water won’t rid the memories and feelings, but it’s the one thing you can control right now. You want to be completely clean. No, you need to be completely clean. Your hair is washed as well, not missing an inch of your autonomy.
Under your nails, your piercings, everything you can think of cleaning is being scrubbed thoroughly. Skin rubbed raw, you don’t care. Turning off the shower, you go into your bedroom. The three of you have separate rooms, but rarely sleep alone, often choosing a room to sleep. Since you were gone for the weekend, they were in their own beds. They had no clue you’d be back so early. You weren’t planning on it, but as you laid in your old bed, you just felt dirty.
So here you were at 5 a.m., trying to grab what little control you have left. Lucky for you, you did your laundry on Friday morning, so everything is fresh. You choose a black button-down pajama set with white lining. Matching undergarments and socks with the same material as them. You don’t put on perfume because you want to only smell the soap on your skin.
You begin your house cleaning. Ellie & Abby’s laundry is thrown into the washer now after taking yours out. You start with the kitchen, cleaning the oven top, the counters, organizing the cabinets, the fridge, the seasoning drawer, and throwing out any old takeout or expired items. You vacuum the couches, lifting each cushion to make sure you don't miss anything. Baking soda is thrown onto the center rug before vacuuming to get rid of any possible odor. You broom, mop, wipe. Everything is being cleaned. It’s the only thing you can control.
The bathroom, the hallway, your room, every inch of the house is cleaned except for their bedrooms because you don’t want to wake them. Needing a distraction to stop your mind from spiraling. To stop their words from bouncing about in your head. “How’s the husband coming along?” They refuse to acknowledge your sexuality, thinking it’s just a phase and hoping that if they ignore it, it’ll go away. The only thing they do say is, 'the devil is playing tricks in your head.' They have never stepped foot in your house because it's ‘crawling with sin.’
You couldn’t go out with them unless you were covered, face, hands, and feet, the only thing you were able to reveal. Everything you freed yourself from came back one by one. They forced you to join in prayer and read the literature of their beliefs. They used God in any situation that would benefit them. The only conversations you’ve ever had with your father have been about marriage and your appearance. Does he even know your birthday? Celebrations were sinful. You've never seen a present on your special day. ‘God gave you this life, you shouldn’t celebrate specifically for you. It’s arrogant’
Did he know your favorite color? Did he know what career path you were aiming for? Sure, he knew the path he wanted you to go for, but what about you? When was it ever about you? When have you ever had the chance to express yourself without being scolded for merely existing?
Before you realize it. You are crying with gloves on and scrubbing the coffee table aggressively. “Hey, hey whats wrong?” It’s Ellie. She had to pee, but when she got up, she heard something in the living room. There you were, panting with tears streaming down your face. She knew what was happening. You always cleaned when you were spiraling. She walked towards you, trying to pry the spray bottle out of your hands. “Lemme get this from you,” She said softly, voice laced with concern.
She knew not to talk too loudly when you got like this because you’d panic. She also didn’t want to touch you right away, not knowing if you were currently feeling ‘icky’ as you usually say when you get like this. “No, Ellie, I have to finish this.” You hiccupped, needing so badly to be in control of something. Yes, she was only trying to help, but to you, she was taking away the only thing you could do freely at the moment.
“Baby, come on its 6 in the morning, let’s just go to bed, we can finish this later.” A whole hour has passed already. You looked at the time, and it was actually 6:52 am. Almost 2 hours of intense cleaning. You didn’t care. You needed this. “No.” You looked Ellie in the eyes, answering her sternly, frustration growing.
You haven’t gotten like this in a while. Ellie goes into Abby’s room. She was already standing up because she heard the slight commotion. “She’s cleaning again,” Is all Ellie says before Abby springs into action. Ellie doesn’t usually use force because you fight back kind of hard, and the two of you were pretty similar in size. Abby, on the other hand, was always able to hold you quite well, even when you thrashed. She wonders if she’d need to do that today.
When they returned to the living room, you were no longer wiping the countertop; you were organizing the storage closet. “Angel?” Abby says to you. The sound of her voice feels like a thumb rubbing your face. You just shake your head and continue cleaning. Your mind is racing at the thought of your parents. They knew about your relationship with Abby and Ellie. They hated it. They forbade you from using their names while you were at home. Well, not directly, but every time you did bring it up, it often ended in a screaming match, a two against one, your mother and father teaming against you.
You just speed up a little, hoping it’ll slow your thoughts. Stacking all the bins and dusting the top shelf. Abby came behind you, grabbing the duster from your hand. You didn’t let up easily, a little tug of war happening in the middle of the storage closet, Ellie at the door with worry etched all over her face.
Abby was much stronger than you, but she wasn’t using all her strength, scared of potentially hurting you. She was able to wiggle it out of your hands. She picked you up and brought you to the couch. You were trying to get out of her grasp, hating feeling trapped, but you were slowly easing into it like always, her smell calming you. Once you were on the couch, your back was pressed against hers, and she was holding your middle, tight, signaling for Ellie to take off your gloves.
Once they were off, she turned you around, trying her best to calm your protests. “Baby, I'm not gonna hurt you.” You were sobbing loudly, coughing as you breathed in. Abby knew you felt trapped, but sometimes it was the only thing that could snap you out of your trance. You hated it in the moment, but appreciated it after.
You wore yourself out. Knowing it was no use because she was so much more built than you. Instead, you just sobbed into the crook of her neck as she held you tightly. Pressing you as close to her as possible. Ellie went to grab a glass of iced water and a box of tissues.
Your breathing was picking up, fast and uncontrolled. You were on the verge of a panic attack. Abby was never good at calming you down from those. She didn’t have the best way with words, so she turned you forward. Ellie crouched down in front of you. She takes your hands and puts them on her chest. The contact relaxing you a little. She made you copy her breathing. You weren’t in full panic, so it wasn’t too hard to calm down.
After a few minutes of mindful breathing techniques, you were only left with silent tears dripping down your face. You leaned back into Abby as she kissed the top of your head. Ellie was wiping your tears and making you blow your congested nose into the tissue. Then you sipped your water as she held the cup.
“Tell me what's going through that pretty head, baby,” Ellie says while Abby rubs the sides of your arms. “They’re so mean.” You hiccup a little in between words, trying your best to stop crying, but the memories make it hard. Ellie knows your parents were proper dicks. Every time she sees them out in public, they look at her with disgust.
“Baby, I know they are your parents, but can I ask why you keep going there if you hate it?” Ellie didn’t really have parents; she had Joel for a while, but after he died, she was pretty much alone on the guardian side of things. She doesn’t really understand why you fight so hard to keep your relationship with them.
“I just..” You hiccup, breathing in and out as Ellie instructs you. Knowing you were trying to keep yourself composed. “I just want them to love me.” All you’ve ever wanted was for them to love you. Since you were a child, it seemed like you could only do wrong. The life you live has no correlation to the one they wanted from you. You weren’t married to a man, and you weren’t religious. The two major things they expected of you.
Before you even came out, you’ve tried everything for them to love you. Your dad made constant remarks about your appearance and weight, making your 13-year-old body hunch over the toilet after every meal, spilling your guts into the bowl. After you thought you lost enough, your mother criticized you, telling you that ‘No man likes a woman too skinny.’ The internal warfare drove you crazy.
Your statement hurts Abby’s heart, making her squeeze you a little tighter. Ellie nods a little, playing with your fingers. “I thought the plan was to only speak to them on the phone, so you don’t feel overwhelmed in the same environment as them.” Your therapist had made that proposal to you: ‘Keep your distance.’ You tried, but as the days pasts their messages and calls got angrier. They were saying things like ‘you never come see us, you left us for your new life’ or ‘Don’t call us if you aren’t going to visit.’ You felt bad wanting to ease their ‘pain’ of your absence.
You’ve been diagnosed with Depression, Anxiety, and C-PTSD. Your psychiatrist gave you medications and techniques to manage these things. Abby and Ellie have also been a huge help, but every time you engage with your parents again, it seems like all your self-work has been completely undone.
“I was, but they always find a way to guilt me back into their arms. I know you think I’m stupid because I keep falling for it. I just feel bad, I don’t know”
Abby chimes in before Ellie can, “You’re not stupid, princess, it’s all you know. It’s hard to change something that has been the same your whole life. We just want better for you, but we’ll stick beside you with whatever decision you choose”
You want to stop speaking to your parents, more than anything, honestly, but their emotions way heavy on your spirit. For as long as you remember, you hate being the reason of someones negative emotions, whether it's anger or sadness, even after they’ve done you wrong. You just can’t seem to not care. The one thing you wanted forever was not to feel so deeply about everything.
You were also scared that once you stopped talking to your parents, you’d have no one left. How much pain it would be if Ellie and Abby left sometime after you’ve cut ties. You know you wouldn’t be able to take the solitude. “I want to stop talking to them, I’m just scared of being alone.” You hide your face in your hands.
“Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” Abby says, “Ellie might trade you for some weed, but not me.” Ellie kicks Abby, clearly not liking the fact that she’s cracking jokes in this moment, but her face softens when she sees you smile.
“Well, I guess we have to keep her stocked,” You say with a small giggle. Hoping these two stay in your life forever.
Author's Note ↝ I didn't add everything I wanted to in this. Trust me, there is so much more on this particular scene I want to include, but I wanted to gauge your reactions first before I actually dive deep into it. Please give feedback or simply let me know if you'd like more of this kind of literature ‹𝟹
hi! i saw your fluff/sfw idea post and i wanted to give an idea. could you do a story where the reader decides to adopt a kitten because they feel bad leaving it behind, toph being against the idea blah blah, but you’ll see her playing with, cuddling, and just yapping to the cat but when you bring it up to her, she’s being in denial about it >< thank you so much!
Toph Beifong x Waterbender!Girlfriend!Reader
WC: 3k+
Synopsis: You were chosen by the cat distribution system, now you just had to convince Toph to let him stay. This is a deleted scene from another fic you can read here
Toph walked beside you toward the takeout spot, every bit the Chief of Police even off duty. She was always alert, listening for the slightest shift in the air, every footstep and heartbeat cataloged in her mind like she was already anticipating a threat to emerge from nowhere.
You knew better than to comment on it. When the two of you had first gotten together, she'd sat you down and explained exactly what being with her would look like. There were risks, being seen with her could make you a target. So whenever you were out together in public, she became more protective and, at times, downright controlling. All you could do was offer apologetic smiles to the unfortunate souls she snapped at for getting a little too close.
You didn't mind, though. If anything, you found her overprotectiveness endearing and incredibly attractive. You were almost at the destination; you could see the neon sign of the takeout spot flickering in the distance when you heard it.
A soft, timid meow.
Your steps slowed to a stop. Your eyes swept the street before settling on the dark alleyway beside you. You squinted into the shadows, unsure if someone was lingering in there.
Toph had already taken a few more steps ahead before she noticed you weren't beside her anymore and stopped.
“What are you doing? We're almost there.” She said sharply, already turning and making her way back to you.
“There's a kitten.” You stated in a sickly sweet voice.
As if on cue, a tiny orange tabby with bright green eyes stumbled out of the alley, clumsy paws tripping over themselves.
“I know.” Toph replied flatly. “Which is exactly why I kept walking.”
“But..” You were already crouching down, scooping the kitten into your arms. “He's so little. He'll never survive out here on his own.”
Toph dragged a hand down her face and let out a long breath. “Baby, if I let you take home every homeless animal you find in Republic City, we'd have to move somewhere bigger and build a farm.”
Your attention remained fixed on the kitten as he rolled onto his back in your arms, his paw swatted at your finger before he gently nipped at it. Your eyes began to water, he was bonding with you. Out of everyone who had walked down this street tonight, he had chosen you.
“If you're trying to talk me out of taking him, you're doing a terrible job.” You mused, bending a little water from your pouch into your palm so the kitten could drink.
“Sweetheart.” Toph stepped closer, trying again. “Think about it. We're barely home as it is. Who's going to watch a cat? Most days, you come back from the clinic too exhausted to even get changed, and now you want to take responsibility for an animal just because he's cute.”
“Ah-ha!” You said triumphantly. “So you admit he's adorable.”
You started walking toward the shop happily. You could hear her footsteps following behind you.
“I said no such thing.” Toph denied, you could hear the smirk in her voice. “I'm just saying that, from his size and everything Sokka's told me, kittens are always cute at that age.”
When you entered the takeout spot, Toph went up to place your order and pay while you found a corner tucked away by the front windows and slid into the booth tiredly. The kitten squirmed in your zipped-up coat, climbing up your body until its head peeked out curiously. The store owner knew you, as you were regulars, but you still didn't know how keen he would be on animals in his shop.
You made sure to keep the little rascal hidden while you waited for your food. Thankfully, Toph seemed to be speaking with one of the servers who was on duty tonight, an older man with a long beard dressed in Water Tribe attire. She returned a few minutes later with two waters, pulled out the chair in front of you, and sat.
You were about to open your mouth and ask her why she was sitting so far away when the kitten began to burrow out of your jacket and into your lap. Your face flushed as you tried to grab him, but he leapt, landing on the floor by your feet.
“Monshu!” You whispered. You looked toward Toph, who was drumming her fingers against the table, completely unbothered by the chaos happening around her. She was metalbending one of the forks she brought to the table into different shapes.
You looked at her for help. “You aren't going to help me catch him?”
“And why would I do that?” She huffed, indignant. “It's your smelly cat.”
You groaned, ducking underneath the table. He was now by Toph's feet, sniffing around and flinching every time she shifted. Eventually, he gave up, flopping on his side and rolling over so his belly was in the air. It was the cutest thing you had ever seen.
But you could see the server approaching with your food. You quickly reached down, now fully on the floor and under the table- and grabbed the little gremlin before he could run again.
Once safely in your arms, you returned to your seat. A steaming bowl of sea plum noodles was placed in front of you, and you almost salivated at the smell of it. But you couldn't eat and hold a squirming kitten at the same time
You looked at the metal cuffs on your girlfriend's wrist and got the best idea.
“Baby.” You started, your voice low.
“No.” She said before you even got the chance to ask her.
“You didn't even let me finish!”
“I don't need to. There are only two outcomes for this, you ask me to feed you, or you ask me to hold the cat while you eat. And I am not touching that thing.” Her nose wrinkled. “You shouldn't be either.”
She had a point, you hadn't given him a bath yet. You had just picked him up off the street like it was a normal thing.
You pouted. “So you would rather me starve to death than feed me or hold a kitten?”
“That's what I said, isn't it?”
“You're mean.”
“And you don't know how many diseases that thing could have.” She pointed out stubbornly.
You covered the kitten's ears, holding him to your chest. “She doesn't mean that, Monshu. We are going to make sure you have a clean bill of health, aren't we?” You cooed, petting him gently.
Toph grumbled something inaudible and resumed eating. Monshu seemed to be settling down now, he curled up in your lap, paws tucked under his chin, purring softly. Finally, you could eat. You moaned at the taste as the seasonings flooded your mouth. There was nothing like having the first meal after great sex.
Toph's head shot up in the direction your low moans were coming from, her fingers flexing slightly around the fork she was holding.
“Mhmmm,” You moaned again, breathy this time. “So good.”
Toph's cheeks tinted pink, her neck and the tops of her ears flushing. She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Do you have to do that?”
“Do what?” You feigned innocence. “I'm just enjoying the food. You know how I feel about this place.”
“Right...” She didn't seem convinced.
There was this particular piece of sea plum that exploded with flavor in your mouth. The sound that left your lips was something completely erotic.
Toph stiffened, narrowing her eyes in the direction she knew you were in. “What game are you playing at?”
This time, you were slightly embarrassed. You chewed your food slowly, stifling a laugh. “Nothing, I'm just eating.”
“You're making love to the food in front of me.” She stated, lowering her voice so no one would overhear.
“You jealous?”
She scoffed, as if the mere suggestion was beneath her. “You wish. If anything, I'm concerned that something is seriously wrong with you.”
You went back to your meal, humming happily and occasionally slipping in another breathy moan or two. Each soft sound had Toph gripping the edge of the table just a little tighter, her seismic sense picking up every vibrations of your throat, completely derailing her focus.
Halfway through the meal, a new server walked over to check on the table. Toph grumbled something under her breath, looking moody and deeply flustered. You, however, saw a golden opportunity, an opening you just couldn't resist taking.
“Is there anything else I can get you two tonight?” The server asked.
He was younger than the man who had taken the order. He was tan, lean, with short curly hair and looked to be in his early thirties. He wore a soft, dimpled smile, and there was an easy, charming air to him that you decided to use to your full advantage.
You leaned slightly across the table, deliberately batting your lashes at him. “Actually, I-”
Before you could utter another syllable, one of the metal cuffs around Toph's wrist shot across the table, expanding and slapping right over your mouth like a muzzle.
The server's eyes went wide, his smile vanishing as he froze in alarm. Toph didn't even blink. She just leaned back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other with unbothered confidence.
“We're good, thanks.” She dismissed him, her voice dripping with a sharp, protective edge.
The young man didn't ask any further questions. He bowed his head quickly and hurried away. Only when his footsteps fully retreated into the kitchen did Toph flick her wrist, snapping the metal back through the air and bending it seamlessly back into place around her arm.
She leaned forward, her sightless eyes locking onto your face as she pointed a menacing fork at you. “Try that again, and I'm bending the whole table around your head.”
You crossed your arms, huffing as you rubbed your jaw where the metal had briefly pressed against your skin. “You covered my mouth!”
“You were about to flirt with him,” Toph shot back instantly, her chin tilted up defensively.
“I was going to ask for extra napkins!”
“Bull.” She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, the metal cuffs on her wrists clicking together sharply. “I could feel your heart rate spike from across the table. You weren't thinking about napkins, you were thinking about trouble.”
Hearing all of the commotion, Monshu woke up and decided to make his presence known. Before you could stop him, he darted out of your lap and scampered across the table, his tiny nose twitching as he sniffed at Toph's hands where they were wrapped around her bowl of noodles.
“Get this thing away from me” Toph demanded, horrified it was touching her.
One of the metal cuffs around her wrist uncoiled, and with a flick of her fingers, she bent it into a small metal box around him, complete with a little window for air.
You reached across the table and took the box into your hands. “He's my baby. Monshu is the newest member of our family.”
“And I don't get a say in this?” Toph asked, eyebrow raised.
“You do,” You said simply, offering a sweet smile. “Doesn't mean I'll listen to it.”
Toph groaned, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “You're lucky I love you.”
You smiled at her, your voice softening. “I know, baby.”
⊹︵︵︵ ⊹ 𝄞 ⊹ ︵︵︵ ⊹
Adjusting to life with a kitten with both of your work schedules was hard. Monshu had apparently decided that Toph's work boots were his nest. Every morning, he managed to leave little treasures inside them. Depending on his mood the items seemed to differ. Sometimes he'd leave kitty toys, pieces of cardboard he found around the house or one of your hair ties.
Without fail, every time Toph shoved her foot into a metal boot and discovered his latest offering, she threatened to kick him out. You were beginning to think the two of them would never get along.
The past week hadn't helped matters. You'd been working overnight shifts at the clinic, and by the time you came home each morning, Toph had already left for work. You barely saw each other and you knew Toph hated when you got all clingy but you missed your girlfriend more than anything.
One particular evening, you weren't feeling well, so they sent you home early. You unlocked the front door a little after nine and quietly stepped inside. After shutting it behind you, you began peeling off your work clothes by the entrance like you always did, making sure not to track any germs through the house. The robe you kept hanging by the wall was right where you'd left it, and you slipped it on before stuffing your work clothes into a laundry bag.
You were on your way to the washroom to toss the dirty clothes in when you stopped in your tracks. Toph was sprawled across the living room couch with Monshu curled on her chest.
To make things so much cuter, she was having a full-blown conversation with him. You lingered in the doorway, a grin slowly spreading across your face as you listened to the ridiculous exchange between them.
“You know,” Toph started, one hand lazily scratching beneath Monshu's chin as she spoke. “You keep laying on me like this and your mom's going to get jealous.”
Monshu blinked up at her, purring heavily.
“I mean it. She has a serious jealous streak.” Toph continued, completely unaware she was being watched. “Especially when she feels left out of something.”
The kitten let out a tiny, agreeable meow. Toph's hand moved to pet behind his ear. “Exactly. Glad we're on the same page.”
You couldn't help it anymore, you stepped into the room making your presence known. “Are you talking crap about me to our son?”
Toph nearly jumped out of her skin. Her head whipped toward the doorway, her sightless eyes wide with surprise, while Monshu remained perfectly content on her chest.
“You walk way too quietly for someone who isn't trying to scare people.” Toph grumbled, quickly trying to recover from being caught talking to the cat she allegedly hated.
You grinned, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. “I didn't know I was interrupting guy time.”
“It wasn't guy time.”
“Then why are you cuddling Monshu on the couch and gossiping about me?” You walked over to the couch and leaned down, your hand reaching out to give the kitten some affection. “Come here, Monshu. Don't listen to her, she's a bad influence.”
But as your fingers brushed his fur, the little traitor ignored you. He turned his head away from your hand, intentionally leaning his face into Toph’s palm and nuzzling her fingers for more scratches.
Toph’s lips twitched, a smirk spreading across her face. “Oof, denied. Looks like the kid knows who his favorite parent is.” She gave him a scratch behind his ears, making him purr even louder. “Sorry, babe. I guess Monshu has spoken and he prefers me now.”
You pouted, staring at the two of them. “Unbelievable. She called you smelly and locked you in a cage and this is the thanks I get?”
Without another word, you climbed right onto the couch. It was a tight fit, but you didn't care. You squeezed into the narrow space beside Toph, pressing yourself firmly against her side, and let out a dramatic huff as you settled in.
Toph shifted, grunting softly at the sudden addition of your weight. “What do you think you're doing? There's barely any room here.”
You wrapped an arm around her waist and rested your chin on her shoulder. “Well, if he's cuddling you, so am I. You're not leaving me out of this.”
“You're ridiculous.” Toph muttered, the fondness in her voice was impossible to miss.
“I'm participating.” You corrected, snuggling even closer.
She laughed, the sound was warm and genuine, and it made you smile. Not even a second later, Monshu stood. He arched his tiny back into a long stretch, yawned, and carefully stepped off Toph's chest, crossing the narrow gap between you to settle against your arm.
You looked down at him, a grin spreading across your face. Toph's smile vanished the second she registered the sudden absence of a warm, purring kitten on her chest.
“Traitor.” She hissed at him.
The little orange ball curled tightly against you as he tucked his paws beneath his chin, already drifting back off to sleep. You looked over at Toph innocently, though your voice dripped with pure smugness. “He chose me.”
“Whatever.” Toph grumbled.
Despite her dismissive words, she shifted on the cushions and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you securely against her side.
You sighed softly, your eyes fluttering closed as you completely melted into her warmth. “I missed you.”
Toph was silent for a moment. Then, her hand slid up your arm and came to rest on your head, her fingers lazily combing through your hair. “I missed you too. The apartment's been quiet.”
You smiled against her shoulder, letting the comfortable silence stretch between you. “Really? Because you and Monshu seem pretty cozy.”
“Lapse in judgement.” She lies, continuing to run her fingers through your hair. “I was on the couch first, he just came.”
“Sure he did.” You snorted, patting her chest playfully as you lifted your head to peck her cheek. “Just admit it baby he's growing on you.”
Your teasing was cut short when Monshu decided he had been ignored for far too long. The kitten woke up from where he was resting comfortably against your side, letting out a tiny meow. He scrambled up your arm using your robe for traction, and climbed directly onto Toph. Before she could react, Monshu reached out and planted one tiny, soft paw right in the middle of her face.
“See? This is what I mean, he's almost as clingy as you.” Toph complains as a unrestrained laugh slipped from her lips, causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle.
Toph reached up and gently wrapped her hand around Monshu's middle, lifting him away from her face, she made no move to put him down. “God forbid the little gremlin doesn't have my attention for five minutes and he's ready to claw my eyes out, sounds like someone else I know.”
You gasped dramatically, sitting up so fast you nearly knocked into her. You threw one leg over her straddling her hips. “Take it back right now.”
“Make me.” She challenged, a wicked smirk spreading across her lips as she tilted her head up toward you, her hands finding their way to your thighs.
“You’re impossible.” You leaned down, pressing your lips firmly against hers to effectively shut her up. Toph melted into the kiss instantly, her grip on your thighs tightening as she pulled you flush against her chest, the playful bickering completely forgotten in the warmth of the moment.
Beneath you both, a sharp, indignant meow cut through the air. Monshu, who had been securely trapped in the middle of your sudden heated exchange, squirmed his way out from between your bodies. He scrambled up until he was perched right on top of your shoulder, stepping on your hair and purring like a tiny engine ruining the romantic moment.
Toph broke the kiss, a breathless chuckle escaping her as she felt the kitten's soft vibrations traveling through your shoulder. “See? I told you. Two clingy babies,” she teased softly, her thumb tracing a gentle circle against your hip.
You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile as you leaned your forehead against hers and settled comfortably over her lap. “Shut up and hold us.”
“Fine,” She grumbled, wrapping both arms securely around you and the kitten, pulling you both into the tightest embrace. “But only because I'm comfy and you two are warm.”
AN: I had this in the drafts for awhile and decided to i corporate this req with it. Writers block is kicking my ass so if I disappear for weeks thats why :/
⠀໒ summary ℘ the three of you all have different drunk personalities, and here are three scenarios that showcase that
⠀໒ word count ℘ 2.2k
⠀໒ content warnings/notes ℘ drinking, bars, clubs, everything to do with that. not the best thing i've written considering it's kind of dialogue heavy and i feel like i suck at writing dialogue so i hope you guys like it :)
⠀໒ links ℘ ellie williams masterlist 𓍲 abby anderson masterlist 𓍲 ellabs masterlist
Experiencing Ellie drunk was a first for you, mostly because the two of you had only met a few months ago and were still trying to get into a routine of having each other in your lives. You didn’t particularly enjoy going out, dressing up hadn’t been your thing, but Ellie and Abby convinced you to put on that skirt that sat in the back of your closet and tag along with them to the bar that everyone seemed to go to on a Friday night.
Abby stuck by you for most of the night, knowing you hadn’t really wanted to be there in the first place and were somewhat wary of where the night was going to go; she ordered your drinks, watched them when you went to the bathroom, and brushed people away if they tried to talk to you.
You’d seen Ellie go up to the bar at least four times now, each time she reappeared at the table with a new beer in hand, talking to Dina about something that had happened earlier that day that you couldn’t really overhear as you played with the bottle of water in front of you.
Soon enough, she slipped into the booth next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Hi!”
You laughed at her loudness, “Hi, Ells. You having fun?”
“Mhm, a lot of fun.” She nodded, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek, which was her way of thanking you for coming out tonight.
You watched her go two seconds later, pulling someone you’d never seen before into a conversation that you’re sure the person was not interested in having, but played along anyway. Abby snorted beside you, nudging you with her elbow, “She does this a lot.”
“What?”
“Talk. It’s the most annoying thing. One night I had to drag her home, and on the way to the car, she started explaining to this old guy about the physics of some superhero. So fucking nerdy.”
You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips as you imagined the scene your friend described; Ellie drunk off her ass and rambling about superheroes and science. Your eyes turned back to where she was standing, frowning when you realized she was no longer there.
You glanced down at your phone, seeing 1:47 displayed on the screen. “We should probably head back. They’re gonna stop serving soon anyway.”
Abby agreed with a swift thumbs up, standing up to go close out the tab that all three of you had created, most of it consisting of the beers Ellie had been downing all night. You got up from the seat for the first time since going to the bathroom an hour ago, walking around the bar to find your roommate.
You found her leaning against a wall, talking to some guy you once again did not know, but that didn’t stop you from walking over to her, gently brushing her arm with your hand to gain her attention. Her eyes flicked over to you, lighting up when she realized who was standing near her, “Hi! You came over.”
“Yeah, we’re gonna head home.” You said softly, giving her a smile to try to help soothe the disappointment that was coming.
She pouted, shaking her head, “Nooooo, ‘m having fun.”
“We gotta go Ells, it’s late.”
“Nuh uh.”
“I’m tired.”
That seemed to get her to stop, the wheels in her mind turning before she nodded, “Okay. Let’s go.”
She wrapped her arm around your waist, both of you heading to find Abby, who was now lingering near the entranceway of the bar, her arms crossed like she was a bouncer for a club rather than someone who was trying to enjoy their night.
“You drink enough, shortstack?”
“Hey! I’m not short.”
Abby only rolled her eyes before opening the door, ushering the two of you out of the crowded building. Ellie only stumbled a few times while walking; each time she would lean into you and then straighten herself up, muttering an apology.
When you approached the car, you helped her slide into the back seat, buckling her seatbelt for her because you had an inkling she’d forget if you didn’t. You climbed into the passenger side, Abby turning the car on as Ellie complained about how cold it was, to which Abby flipped her off and turned the heat all the way up.
“Did you guys know that dinosaurs were like human-sized? Most people thought they were like massive, but they were our size or smaller.” Ellie babbled in the backseat, fingers picking at the fraying edges of the cutouts in her jeans.
“Oh um… that’s good, Ells.” You replied, already knowing that, but trying to make her feel better.
“That means I’m not small, I’m just dino sized.”
“Yeah, whatever the puniest dinosaur is, that’s you, Ellie.”
“Y/n, Abby’s being mean!”
You hid your grin with your hand, looking out the window, “I’ll be sure to talk to her later.”
“Good.”
A few minutes passed in silence before she spoke up again, “Did you know that ‘rawr’ means I love you in dinosaur language?”
“Did you know ‘rawr’ also means ‘shut the fuck up?’”
𓍼
abby anderson aka the sad drunk
You’d never seen Abby pout more than she was pouting now, sitting in the middle of the corner booth the three of you occupied. She was staring at her drink as if it had personally wronged her, with her eyes glazed over. You had been gone for a mere five minutes, having to use the restroom, leaving her with Ellie, who was only making the situation worse.
You knew this was going to happen. Every time Abby allowed herself to get even the slightest bit drunk, she got pouty and upset at anything that happened. She never really got sad when she was sober; irritated, disappointed, confused? Yes. But never sad.
And each time it happened, you were there to make her feel better, wrapping your arms around her and singing that one song she seemed to like. This time was no different.
The three of you had decided to go out for a few drinks, none of you had been busy for the first time in weeks, and you could all use the distraction from your lives. So the bar was where you went, Ellie ordering the first round to get the tab started, and placing your respective drinks in front of you at your table in the corner of the room.
Abby watched what was happening around her, per usual, not making any move to join you and Ellie’s conversation. It was almost alarming how quickly she drank her first beer, ushering Ellie out of her seat so she could go get another one.
It wasn’t long before you could see her demeanor changing in front of your eyes, her lips turning downwards more than usual, her eyes widening with sadness, and her hand reaching for yours like you were going to disappear.
That was when you decided to go to the bathroom before her emotions could continue their downward trend. You pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, promising her you would be back quickly before slipping out of the booth with a warning to your other friend not to antagonize her.
However, Ellie seemed to ignore that order while you were away, teasing her about how sad she was getting over nothing, about how you left, and how she thought it was the end of the world not having you by her side, etc. Anything she could say to push Abby’s buttons, she did it.
When you returned, standing a few feet away from the table, you could only roll your eyes at Ellie’s antics, making your way towards them. “Ellie, what did I say?”
The girl shrugged innocently, slouching further into the booth and drinking her beer. Abby, on the other hand, brightened slightly, leaning into you as you sat next to her, “You’re back.”
“Yeah, I am. You okay, Abs?”
She shook her head, resting it on her shoulder, sniffling. You frowned, brushing a stray hand of hair behind her ear, “Was Ellie being mean to you?”
“Mhm.”
“I’m sorry, pretty girl. She just doesn’t understand you.”
“No.”
“Whatcha thinking about?”
“About how in that movie you made us watch the other day with the puppy. It went through so much.”
You thought back to Wednesday night when you wanted to watch A Dog’s Way Home but didn’t want to watch it alone, so Ellie and Abby watched it with you. Abby wasn’t upset at the time, but the drinking must’ve gotten her thinking about it all over again.
“Aww, but she’s okay now, Abs, remember? She got to go home to Lucas.”
“That’s like the whole point of the title.”
“Ellie.” You scolded, glaring at her and pulling Abby closer like a protective mom.
“What?” She held her hands up in defense, “Can we go?”
You looked down at Abby, fingers wiping a tear off her cheek, “You wanna go home?”
“Yes, please.”
And with that, the three of you headed out, Abby and you piling into the back seat because if she had to be separated from you again, she might’ve broken out into sobs. Neither of you really appreciated Ellie’s driving; she always jerked the car too much and hit the brakes too late.
Somewhere in the middle of the drive, Abby tugged on your shirt, looking up at you with huge glassy eyes, “Can we go to McDonald’s?”
“Of course.” You hit Ellie’s arm, “McDonald’s.”
“What? No!”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
You smiled down at Abby, kissing her head.
𓍼
you aka the clingy drunk
You were clingy on a normal day, though you’d say affectionate was a better word. Your hand always found Abby’s when walking through town and hugged her when she was making dinner, you traced Ellie’s tattoo as she rambled on about something she had already told you and curled into her during movie nights.
So when your roommates knew the three of you, and the rest of your friend group were going out for drinks later that night, they were mentally preparing themselves to have a you attached to them for the entirety of the time you were at the club.
From the moment you stepped into the building, you had a hand in your drink. You’d arrived a little later than Dina and Jesse, meaning they already had your and your roommates' drinks sitting at the table they had reserved for the group.
You drank it slowly, still not wanting to have too much since you had a long list of things to do over the weekend, but as the night went on, you were downing drinks left and right. It took you all of three drinks to attach to Abby, resting your head on her shoulder, and a hand wrapping around her bicep.
“Abs.” You giggled, poking her cheek.
“Hm? What’s up, baby?”
“Your bicep is huge, like the size of my head!”
She chuckled, looking down at you, “Thank you?”
You just nodded, snuggling closer into her as you sipped on your fourth drink, frowning when you realized it was out. “Abby?”
“Yes?”
“Could you get me another one?”
She grinned, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“No.”
She stared at you for a long few seconds before sighing, scanning the club to find her counterpart, seeing her trying to dance next to Dina. “C’mon, I’ll get you one as soon as you’re with Ellie.”
You followed her toward Ellie, a small, oblivious smile on your face like you weren’t being dragged like a child across the room. You reached Ellie a little while later, practically latching yourself onto her, which she welcomed easily, “Hi, gorgeous. How’s your night going?”
You didn’t say anything, pressing your nose into her neck and wrapping your arms tighter around her. She swayed you back and forth while you waited for your next drink, trying to talk to you, but her words ultimately fell on deaf ears.
Abby came back, your drink in her hand, and you lit up when you saw it, “Yay!”
“This is your last one, yeah?”
The two of you locked eyes, staring at each other before you blinked and nodded, “Meanie.”
“Just looking out for you.”
By the end of the night, you were hanging off of both of them as you walked through the club. You held Ellie’s hand and hugged Abby with your other arm, using her to support most of your weight throughout your journey to the car.
“I love cuddles. Can we cuddle when we get home?”
“‘Course we can. We’ll make a pile of blankets on Abby’s bed and watch a movie.”
“Why my bed?”
“Because she loves your bed.”
You nodded at the short-haired girl, “Mhm ‘s true. Your bed is cozy. I love your bed.”
Abby softened at your explanation, giving in, “Okay… blanket fort in my bed, but Ellie has to shower first.”
“I don’t stink!”
“You reek, smellie.”
You giggled, which caused Ellie to tickle the side of your stomach, you shrieking in return, “Ellie!”
“Stop winding her up, she’s not going to sleep.”
“Five bucks, she’s out the second we get in the car.”
You reached the car a couple of minutes later, Abby helping you in before letting Ellie slide in next to you. You happily welcomed her embrace, pushing yourself as close as possible, “You’re comfy.”
toph beifong fucks nasty .ᐟ.ᐟ p!links wlw ⸝⸝ 18+ nsfw
you must be signed into twitter to view these links. click the hearts at your own risk.
masterlist
g!p toph beifong fucking you from behind. 𖹭.ᐟ
mommy tophie fingering you while you wear a cute tail plug for her 𖹭.ᐟ
grinding on mommy toph's lap with your underwear. letting her rough hands roam over your body, exchanging kisses while she calls you her good girl. 𖹭.ᐟ
toph loves playing with your tits while you sleep. 𖹭.ᐟ
before you even realized it, toph was already mounting behind you, strapped and ready to go. 𖹭.ᐟ
close the door and open up to toph. let her eat you out. 𖹭.ᐟ
toph was just about to leave for training, but with you laying bare and your mouth licking her fingers, she changed her mind. 𖹭.ᐟ
your thighs trapped between her strong legs, all you could do was take her fingers like a good girl. 𖹭.ᐟ
an: yesterday i finished her blushing hero by mariah rae birch and i was thinking about knight!ellie since then…. that definitely collided with my studying time but… welp. i MIGHT survive the presentation in a few hours. go read her blushing hero and other books from sapphic lady knights!!! not proofread. have fun and here is my masterlist!
sir williams. she was a cocky thing, that knight.
but when she was a young teen, she was an awkward, nervous and fumbling creature, like a small, clumsy fawn that was born not longer than a day ago.
she always knew that dresses and being the lady of the house was not for her. she liked getting dirty, liked strength-focused jobs, liked the smiles young ladies graced her with when she handed them her arm to help them get down the stairs.
she got gifted a handmade wooden sword on her thirteenth birthday and she fell in love with fighting and sparring. she knew then and there - she wanted to be a knight. a real one, respected by everyone, having ladies swooning over her with a simple wink.
and she did well. she achieved that, was respected in all the parts of kingdom. a bit of a womanizer even, when she got out of her awkward, nervous phase. she was still secretly a nerd, crazy about the stars and astrophysics and constellations. she just kept this part of her to herself.
she knew she was getting reckless. with age she wanted to prove everyone that she is still useful and can be great and powerful. she was an honored and valued knight of the kingdom, even serving the queen herself for a while. but she got careless. and the worst part? she could only blame herself.
it was almost embarrassing what happened to have her land here, in this little village up north of the kingdom, in a peaceful, small but cozy cottage with a stable for her horse, shimmer.
she was on her horse, making her way to the royal stables when a fox from the nearby woods ran in front of shimmer, scaring the horse, which ended up with ellie tumbling down, her unsheathed sword digging into her calf.
"that's what ya get for always wavin' that thing 'round. god damn it." mumbled joel, the stableman that ellie built a deep father-daughter relationship with as he helped her reach the healer. it was so obvious the old man was panicking that ellie ended up being the one to comfort him as she laid on a bed, having the healer hover nearby to fix this mess.
ellie was deemed retired the moment she had the sword out of her calf and everyone made sure she wouldn't die. it was cruel, ellie thought. she felt like they just threw her out the moment she got some trouble.
it wasn't like that, obviously - everyone valued her and if there was a chance this never happened, she would've been happily serving the crown in her own way. but it did happen. days, weeks, months of slow, painful and annoying recovery. the chances she could run as fast as she was able to year ago were... yeah. and, let's not lie to ourselves. ellie was getting older.
nearing her forties, which was an amazing age for a knight to reach. well, a retired knight now, but, still. a few gray hairs were visible in the mess of her naturally auburn choppy hairstyle.
everyone's priority was for ellie to get better. she had enough money to invest in a small cottage somewhere far away from the palace. she couldn't bear seeing these young knights often. she felt pain in her heart, and that phantom pain in her calf.
you entered her life as a housewarming‘gift’ from her knight friends - a maid that would cook and clean. they didn’t want ellie to be all alone, and you found it cute of them.
at first she was against this whole thing. a grumpy, oldish and retired knight had no right having a cheery, bubbly maid like you around. she was a bit depressed, feeling as if her life lost all her purpose. she was a knight, god damn it. not a house body. not someone that would settle down, especially not in a tiny village where everyone knew everyone’s business.
but you somehow made it. you wormed your way through her cold walls, reaching her soft, vulnerable heart.
“…don’t say anything about it. just— thought the dining room could use some colours.” she said one day, standing in front of you with one hand out, a bouquet of wildflowers clumsily tied with few grass strands. she looked almost nervous and it was adorable. she was adorable. with her freckles and few wrinkles, forest green eyes looking everywhere but at you until you took the messy bouquet from her.
“thank you, sir williams.” you replied, slowly walking towards the table to put the flowers in a pretty vase, gentle and soft.
“how many times do i have to say it? you can just call me ellie, seriously.” she said, stalking after you, her movements slow. she wasn’t using the cane she was supposed to carry all the time, that stubborn ass.
“you’re a knight. some respect is due, don’t you think?”
“a retired knight.” she sighed, hating that word, but wager to bring it up just to prove her point.
“still…” you whispered, turning around to face her, looking up at her with a slightly worried expression on your face, “there’s a hierarchy here.”
“is there?” she mused, one of her thick eyebrows raised as she kept her eyes on you. “you’ve been here, what, few months? every day i feel more and more tempted to drop it. ignore it. forget that you’re basically at work here.”
her words did catch you off guard a bit. you weren’t used to her using her charm on you. you never heard her tone turn this sultry before. ever since she retired, she thought it useless to continue flirting with ladies - ‘who would want a clumsy, stupid ex-knight like me?’ she thought, pretty sure she lost that ability.
“…you’re messing up my head. lord, i’m too old for you.” she sighed out loud, taking a step back and shaking her head.
you instinctively followed, taking a step forward to keep the space between you two as small as possible without your chests being pressed together.
“‘too old’? you’re not in your eighties, sir— …ellie.” you whispered her name under your breath, tasting it on your tongue, almost shivering. you imagined saying it out loud to her countless times, but this was the first time you actually, really did it.
“tell me to stop. tell me to back off, please.” she whispered, one of her hands moving to brush some of your hair behind your ear before she let her fingertips trail the way along your jawline.
her fingers, so calloused and yet so gentle, were making you melt into her touch. you couldn’t fight it. couldn’t forget about the way you two slowly got closer to each other with every single day. you remembered how hard it was to talk with her the first month of work. you two just coexisted then. now? now she can’t imagine breakfast without you hovering near. she can’t imagine coming back from her stable and finding the cottage empty. she needs you.
she found something else worth living for besides being a knight.
and she wasn’t about to let you go.
tag list: @pawsnlullabies @lenisaob @rhana-banana @itzmnne-3-111 @wakyxy @grossstinkyfeet @notsovintage @ghvtcnxx lmk if you want to be added/removed!
⠀໒ summary ℘ you had already had a shitty day, but with the upcoming storm you only knew it was going to get worse. good thing you had two roommates who were ready to protect you
⠀໒ word count ℘ 1.2k
⠀໒ content warnings/notes ℘ thunderstorms... i think that's it! idk if someone's done this before but i recently had some pretty nasty storms roll through my town and i was not having a fun time
⠀໒ links ℘ ellie williams masterlist 𓍲 abby anderson masterlist 𓍲 ellabs masterlist
You had checked the weather this morning, a high percentage chance of severe thunderstorms later into the night, once you got home from work, once you finished eating dinner, once you, Ellie, and Abby had finished watching the newest episode of Love Island.
You hoped that you’d be dead asleep by the time the storm rolled in, caught up in your dreams and safe inside your bedroom where the noise couldn’t get to you. But luck had not been on your side that day from the moment you woke up.
By noon, you could hardly keep track of the number of things that had gone wrong that day, from spilling your coffee all over your essay that was freshly printed to walking into your class five minutes late and everyone staring at flushed cheeks and messy hair. You couldn’t wait for the day to be over.
Work made it worse. The shift at the small cafe you worked at during the evenings, leading up to the moment you could go curl up on the couch between your roommates and spew your opinions on the drama being displayed on the TV Abby had bought when the three of you moved in, was dragging on, each minute lasting an hour in your mind.
You were yelled at a total of six times, two times by your coworker for losing focus and running into her, and the other four were by customers who wanted to feel like they knew more than you did, despite the fact that this was your third year working at the cafe.
The clouds loomed over you as you walked home, the bright blue of the sky being covered by clumps of dark gray that made your lips turn into a frown. The only good thing you experienced came in the form of you getting into your apartment building prior to the rain starting to pour onto the ground outside.
Abby was in the midst of plating dinner for the three of you when you walked through the door, but you barely paid any mind to her, kicking off your shoes without much care. Ellie was lounging on the couch, eyes flickering between the TV and her homework that she was sure she could get done while watching whatever was playing; you couldn’t really tell.
“Hey, you’re home just in time. Made your favorite.”
Your bag slipped down your arm, resting around your waist, brushing the ground. You looked at the plates that sat at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, your whole body relaxing. You hugged her in thanks, unable to form words at the very moment, the day catching up to you all at once.
Dinner was eaten while Ellie rambled about whatever adventures she had had earlier, Abby mostly blocking her out as you tried to keep up, only grasping onto a few ideas until you told her that you could barely understand a word she was saying.
By the end, you had managed to eat half your plate, which Abby furrowed her eyebrows at, “Bad day?”
“Mhm.”
“Well, you know there’s that storm tonight… You know where we’ll be if you need us.”
“I’ll be awake, I promise.”
The two of you glanced at Ellie, knowing full well that there was an 80% likelihood of her being asleep when the time came for you to migrate to one of their bedrooms from the weather.
“I’ll try.”
𓍼
Thunder clapped for the sixth time when you finally gave up on trying to get any sleep, wrapping yourself in a blanket and making the small trek to Ellie’s room that was right across the hall from yours. You didn’t bother knocking, opening the door only to find her fast asleep, arm hanging over the edge, leg bent at a 90-degree angle, and mouth parted with drool falling out. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight, even though your stomach filled with disappointment at her not being awake.
You slowly backed out of the room, closing the door softly and moving towards Abby’s room next. As you approached the living room, which bridged the gap between the two hallways of your apartment, lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating the space and causing you to jump, clutching your blanket tighter, heart beating too fast for comfort. You hurried your pace to Abby’s room, trying to get within the safety of her bed before the thunder came.
Her door was already ajar, just the slightest bit, so you could see the soft glow of her bedside lamp. You weren’t expecting her to be awake, but you also weren’t surprised, nor were you upset, pushing the door open and walking in, your eyes meeting hers immediately.
Her glasses sat low on her nose, hands stilling when she went to turn the page of whatever book she was in the middle of. Her head tilted, giving you a soft, knowing smile, and then tapping the mattress beside her. You didn’t hesitate to practically jump onto the bed beside her, scootching so you were pressed up against her side, and your head lay on her shoulder.
“Surprised it took you that long.” Abby mused gently, brushing your hair behind your ear.
“Shut up.”
“Just saying.” She kissed your forehead and went back to her book, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling.
Every time thunder would echo throughout your apartment, you would move closer to your roommate or squeeze her arm, eyes shutting impossibly tight. Abby would only glance at you briefly, hand skimming yours, waiting for a moment, and then would return to reading.
Once she finished her current chapter, she slipped the bookmark in between the pages and placed it on her nightstand. “You okay if I turn the light off?”
You nodded, not bothering to say anything else, as she turned the small knob, letting the room fall into total darkness. She maneuvered so your head was nestled into her chest, arms wrapped around your waist, providing you with a sense of security. Your hands gripped weakly at her gray tank, which she always seemed to wear to bed, fidgeting with its hem
Moments later, the room lit up with lightning, and you braced yourself for the noise that followed. However, it was much louder than anticipated; you swore you could feel the bed shake beneath you, and a small whimper escaped you against your better judgment. You only felt slightly embarrassed, but that quickly faded when Abby simply tightened her old on you and murmured sweet nothings against your hair.
The next thing you knew, heavy footsteps came from the hallway, and Abby’s door banged open, Ellie standing there with a slightly out-of-breath expression and wild eyes, “Is she in here?”
“Yeah, dipshit,” Abby muttered, looking over her shoulder to glare at her best friend.
The girl only rolled her eyes, hastily making her way to the opposite side of the bed to plop down next to you, slinging her arm across your waist. She nuzzled her head into the space between your shoulder blades, kissing the fabric of your t-shirt, “‘s okay, baby, I’ll protect you.”
“From what? A chicken?”
“Shut up, asshole.”
The banter between the two lulled you to sleep, the familiar voices distracting your mind from the storm that was happening outside. And when the two noticed your even breathing, they went silent, both of them whispering a goodnight before falling asleep themselves.
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