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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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— Maybe In Another Life

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Clarisse La Rue x Reader

─ she honestly would’ve loved you.

cw ཿ⠀ not proof-read, major character death, description of coping with losing a loved one, angst no comfort, (written with a female reader in mind, but honest no pronouns are used (I think??))

ପ a/n ; literally a quick dump (it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a month) because I’ve been super busy. I’m still working on Lovesick Denial Part 2 and another request, so one of those may be released next. Thank you so much for the support and I hope you enjoy! (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃♡︎

Clarisse stares blankly at the gravestone. The flower gently twirls in her hands mindlessly. The sun felt warm against her skin, the wind—a perfect breeze. The weather was calm, mellow like the calm after a storm.

The sky was bright, much too bright for Clarisse’s liking. Especially now, but she knew this weather is something you enjoy. Everything looked so alive, free—perhaps even a bit happy. She felt so out of place. Nothing felt right, like something was missing. She knew, but she wanted to deny it a bit longer.

She sinks deeper into her thoughts—memories that she treasures. For a moment, she allows them to completely consume her senses, reliving them as if they were the present. She can hear your heartfelt laughter from afar, drawing closer as you approach her.

You quickly quiet your movements, sneaking up on Clarisse from behind. She closes her eyes, pretending not to hear you (like she always does). She feels you creep closer, you hand slowly reaching out towards hers. A soft chill runs up her spine as your fingertips brush against her skin.

She waits quietly for the sound of your voice, but it never comes. Clarisse brow furrows softly, she closes her eyes tighter in concentration. Your hands slip into hers, but they aren’t as soft as they used to be. Still, she imagines your smile as you slowly trail your hand up her arm, carefully tracing her scars as you alway did, until your hand rests along her neck.

Again, she listens carefully for your soft laughter, but again, she’s left waiting. She feels your hand cup her face and again the touch feels odd. It’s warm, but so foreign. Even the way you held her felt so…different. She tries to correct the mistakes in her mind, wanting to indulge deeper into her fantasy.

Again, she waits. Yearning to hear your voice, she waits as her eyes desperately remain closed.

“Clarisse?” Again, she is left disappointed. She breaks away from her daydream, her eyes slowly opening. Tears slip past her eyes as she meets a look full of pity and concern, “…You alright?”

The question is hesitant as if scared to provoke Clarisse’s anger. Clarisse looks away, down at his hand that carefully holds hers. The flower in her hand was tight in her grip as if she was afraid to let go.

“I’m fine,” her tone is rough as she wipes away her tears, pulling away from Chris’ touch.

Chris Rodriguez, son of Hermes. Someone she had grown close to since—no, she doesn’t want to think about it. She places the flower among the many others on the gravestone. A beautiful Daffodil among the many others. Clarisse smiles softly to herself as she sees the gifts others have left behind in your memory. She knew you would appreciate them all.

Your greatest fear was being forgotten—or worse being remembered as someone who never did much with their life. It brings Clarisse a little comforting knowing that your anxieties would’ve been put to rest if you had realized how much you are truly loved.

Clarisse wipes away her tears again, clearing her throat before standing back up. She walks past Chris, not being able to find the strength within herself to even spare him a glance. He doesn’t comment on it, following behind her, but also being mindful to keep his distance.

She looks down at her hand, the ring feels rather tight around her finger. A wave of anger, hurt, and disappointment hit her as she swallows the bitterness in her throat. She looks away. She pretends it’s your ring, your engagement—that she’s your fiance.

She truly would’ve married you. If only you’d been able to stick around, maybe you would have said yes.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse x you

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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— Lovesick Denial

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Clarisse La Rue x Reader

─ Jealousy and bitter denial, not really a good combo, is it?

cw ཿ⠀ violence (nothing bad, promise ♡︎), nicknames (clarisse calls you princess, but no pronouns are used), jealousy, denial, high key toxic! clarisse, partially proofread. 2.5k words.

ପ a/n ; requested! lowkey hating this layout right now, but can’t come up with anything better at the moment </3 This took longer to post than I wanted to because I’ve been so busy. Lowkey lost motivation near the end. I hope you enjoy anyway, I might make a part 2.

Irritated. It was the first word that came to mind with how you felt when it came to capture the flag. You gripped your weapon tightly as you roamed the forest, jumping at the slightest sound. You grumbled curses under your breath, you were alone and seriously disadvantaged. You were annoyed, but most of all stressed. Normally, you would have wandered off—finding a decent hiding place until the unsavory game reached its conclusion, but unfortunately for you—Annabeth didn’t really give you the chance this time.

You sigh softly to yourself, tired of aimlessly walking through the forest. You lean against a nearby tree, hoping to rest a bit to replenish some of your energy. Your weapon was held loosely in your hand as you naively let your guard down. It was quiet, perhaps too quiet. The birds’ endless chatter was oddly soundless as the only thing that could be heard was the wind brushing through the tree’s leaves and… footsteps?

A spear pierces the tree’s trunk harshly, narrowly missing you. You jump, your body tensing as you stumble back a bit. You raise your weapon in defense, looking at the spear lodged into the tree before easily recognizing its craftsmanship. Your fingertips brush along your cheek, the small look of disbelief is quickly replaced with irritation as you see the fresh blood. You shoot her a small glare as she slowly approaches you with a smug look on her face.

“You know, it’s pretty dumb to be trying to take a nap out here, princess,” Clarisse mocks with a teasing tone of voice as she stops just a few feet away from you. The amused look on her face only grows once she notices you grow more irritated by her presence. She pulls back her spear, examining its sharp blade before looking back at you with a rather threatening smile.

You lower your weapon, your brows still furrowed slightly in annoyance. If there was anything you hated more than capture the flag—it was Clarisse, the notorious favored daughter of Ares. You’ve only had a few encounters, all of which you consider a displeasure, but if there was one thing you were known for, if not your antisocial personality, it was your smart mouth.

“Aww, I didn’t pick you as the type to care about my wellbeing,” You mock her tone, a clearly irritated smile resting on your lips as you made it clear you were in no mood for her teasing antics.

Clarisse scoffs, scowling softly as if almost genuinely offended by your words. If she was being honest with herself, she was. But, of course, the stubborn daughter of Ares would never admit to it, “I don’t.”

“Then why say something?” You retort, your tolerance really hitting its breaking point. The heat was starting to get to you more than you thought.

“Because,” Clarisse takes a step closer towards you, a small spark erupting from her spear. Her gaze is cold, calculating like a predator watching its prey. It irritated you, but also made every hair on your body stand on edge.

You subconsciously take a step back, trying to maintain some distance. Clarisse smirks at this before abruptly attacking you. It was a single strike, but its weight was as heavy as her pride. You barely managed to block on time, staggering back as you were completely caught off guard.

Clarisse smiles tauntingly as she continues her slow approach. She’s toying with you. You hold up your weapon, ready to parry her next attack. Your guard is up, but so is your anxiety. Clarisse was never known to go easy—especially in a game like this.

But something felt off about this interaction.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Nothing about Clarisse’s actions made sense to you. She had a game to win, a flag to capture. Yet, she was wasting valuable time to toy with you. Not only that, but she was alone—usually she’d have at least one or two of her siblings with her. This didn’t seem like some regular bullying stunt—no, this felt personal.

“What’s with the confused look, princess?” Clarisse teases, that taunting smile never leaving her lips. She attacks you again, this time more viciously like she’s aiming to hurt you.

You narrowly block the attack, but not completely avoiding the damage. A small cut is left on your upper arm, you click your tongue in annoyance as you glance down at the new wound. You glare up at her, irritated.

“What’s the point of this?” You asked before finally delivering an attack of your own. It’s not as harsh or vicious as Clarisse’s, but the attack has enough weight to it, making it obvious you’re no longer taking this confrontation carelessly.

“Does there have to be a point to this?” Clarisse chuckles, easily blocking the attack. You don’t miss the way she subtly avoids the question, but she doesn’t give you much time to think about it much. She returns the strike, much more vicious than the last two.

This isn’t the first time you had to defend yourself against Clarisse. You’ve witnessed and experienced Clarisse’s fighting style first hand. Despite her hotheaded temper, she fought with pride, but most of all with reason—in her own right, of course. Her attacks are always cold and calculating, strike with purpose and aim to prove something.

So, why did her attacks feel so different? With each strike you blocked—or avoided—the next one felt more angrier and vicious than the previous. Like she was actively trying to kill you, but not at the same time. This felt like more than just some bullying stunt to you, it felt like she was desperately acting in defiance to something. Something close to a personal struggle, perhaps?

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. The fight was already lost.

You wince as your weapon broke, your own blade turning against you, cutting your skin. Clarisse wastes no time, electricity cracks from her spear as she follows up with her next attack. She hits you in the abdomen, sending you flying a couple feet away.

The wind is knocked out of you as you roughly hit the ground. You cough harshly, quickly trying to pull yourself to your feet. You mumble a few curses under your breath, your muscles sore and your legs weak. When you struggle to stand, you allow yourself to collapse completely to the ground.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up now,” Clarisse seems amused, the mocking tone of her voice sounding more like nails on a chalkboard as she lowers her spear. You feel a small headache beginning to form, whether it was from irritation or your harsh landing didn’t really matter to you.

You don’t even have the energy to retort, rolling over on your back tiredly. Fatigue hit you like a truck, and the pain was certainly no help. Your lack of response makes Clarisse worry a little. She holds her spear loosely in her hand, as she glares at you softly.

She opens her mouth to speak, but stops as you hold up your finger in response. She scowls slightly in irritation, but says nothing as she gives you a moment to gather yourself.

“You avoided my question,” You say, a little breathlessly. Your tone was rather blunt as if stating a fact.

Clarisse scoffs, looking away for a moment before responding, “I did not.”

“You did,” Your response is quick as you look over at Clarisse, nonchalantly.

She simply rolls her eyes before quickly changing the subject, “Are you going to continue laying there all day or—”

“You know that doesn’t sound like a bad idea…” You mumble, genuinely taking it into consideration. Your whole body ached and you weren’t really in the mood to get up just yet. Especially considering how you know you’ll be hearing an earful from Annabeth for disappearing so quickly into the game.

Clarisse chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief at your nonchalant attitude. A blaring horn breaks through the small silence and the sound of cheers follows—which is no doubt the blue team’s victory. A third win in a row.

Clarisse's grip tightens around her spear as she looks out into the distance in annoyance. You look at her for a moment before rolling your eyes, deciding to hold your tongue. You’ve already taken more of a beating than you liked.

You sit up, groaning at the dull ache of your muscles. Clarisse looks back at you, watching as you struggle a bit to stand, “Need some help?”

You pause, giving her a look of bewilderment as it took you a moment to realize she was being genuinely in her request. Never, in all your years of being at Camp Halfbood, did you ever hear Clarisse genuinely offer her help to anyone, “You serious?”

It was a genuine question, but your skepticism only irritated Clarisse, making her scoff before placing her spear away. She doesn’t even bother to retort with a harsh insult before walking towards you. She kneels down with her back turned towards you and you realize she’s actually being serious. You looked over her shoulder, your confused daze being met with a small irritated scowl. Too nervous to decline, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around her shoulders as her hands gently gripped your thighs. She carefully stands up, making sure you are steady and comfortable on her back before adjusting you a bit.

Your grip around her tightens a bit, holding her rather close, a little fearful that she may drop you. She oddly doesn’t comment on it, which leaves you with more questions with still zero answers. You truly had no idea what was happening. With every minute, Clarisse surprised you more and more. You wanted to protest, question—anything really—but was left rather speechless as she carried you all the way to the infirmary.

You felt the eyes of your fellow campers, by the looks on their faces they shared the same thoughts of disbelief as you do. Their curious stares and gossiping whispers don’t last long with Clarisse’s silent glare. With deathly shivers being sent down their spine, they quickly go back to minding their business, saving the gossip for later.

You, on the other hand, can only hide your face in embarrassment. The unwanted attention made you want to crawl into a hole, and you knew your friends would have a world of questions of their own. You just hope the attention won’t last long.

────

It did. Although their gossip quieted over time, their curious stares—borderline judgmental—continued to linger behind you. Everywhere you went, no matter how hard you tried to blend into the background—you could always feel at least one pair of eyes watching you. They picked and pried you apart, curious to know how you—a rather dull, outcast—caught the attention of the violent, prideful daughter of Ares.

You were an outsider, never cared for pride or glory. Alway in the background, taking great care to never stand out in a crowd. You were never a loner, but you weren’t exactly ‘known’ either. Average at best was the best way to describe you, but you never seemed to mind. In fact, you enjoyed it.

The life of a demigod was something you never enjoyed nor asked for. A quiet, content life was more of a goal of yours than anything else—anyone with two eyes and a brain could see that.

So, how? Why? What did Clarisse see in you?

Those seemed to be the most common questions when it came to you these days—unspoken, of course. Due to Clarisse’s temper, no doubt. Her anger and aggression has been at an all time high. Losing weeks of desserts due to recent outbursts was definitely not helping.

You took extra care to avoid her, and in turn, she did the same. Though, that only irritated her more. She was frustrated and confused. She had an idea of why she felt the way she did, but she was far too stubborn and prideful to acknowledge it. She wanted to ignore it, to smother the feeling until it withered into ash.

Of course, you were no better either. The same thought peeked into your mind, but you were quick to dismiss it. The simple thought—jokingly or not—of Clarisse even possibly thinking of you at all seemed impossible to even consider. Your friends were no help either, talking your head off with their own suspicions and delusions (as you put it).

So, when someone approached you, a camper known for his boldness and idiocy, it was hard to miss the way your blood went cold. A vicious sense of danger washed over you, your sense heightened. You could barely focus on the words he was saying to you as your eyes subtly scanned your surroundings.

You didn’t have to look for long, your eyes met her cold glare and your whole body went frigid. You knew that look well, you’ve seen it before, but never did you think you would see it directed towards you. It was a sort of jealousy, but felt so much deeper—almost a yearning.

“Hey? You listening?” His voice broke you from your trace, you realized you held Clarisse’s gaze for a few seconds too long. You look back at him with a forced, polite smile before nodding.

You hummed softly in acknowledgment as you tried to ignore the way Clarisse’s knuckles seemed to turn white as her glare hardened out of the corner of your eye. The poor boy didn’t seem to notice the look of worry on your face, too blinded by his own ego. He took your smile and desperate maintenance of eye contact as a sign of interest, which only fueled his rambling. Too bad you weren’t really listening to any of it.

Clarisse watched from afar, her gaze never drifting from you—her siblings are quick to notice her anger, but aren’t quite bold enough to say anything about. One, however, smiles mischievously as she follows Clarisse’s line of sight. She sees an opportunity to cause some form of entertainment, a plan that will also help Clarisse relieve some of her anger.

She smirks as she whispers into Clarisse’s ear, her tense form relaxing as a small, bone-chilling smile makes its way onto her lips. She looks away for a moment, considering the plan for a moment before nodding. A small chuckle leaves her sibling’s lips before she leaves, quick to put the plan into motion.

Clarisse looks back at you and you make eye contact once again. Only this time, the smile on her face fills you with a small sense of dread. You’ve known Clarisse long enough to recognize the cruel look in her eyes. She’s planning something. Something that would ensure at least one person is ending up with a broken bone.

You knew you would be an idiot if you continued to deny it any longer, and Clarisse slowly became aware of the same. A quiet realization, one that neither of you will acknowledge just yet, but one you’re both aware of no less.

She likes you, way more than she would like. And you had no idea how you were going to handle it.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse x you

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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Tangled

Clarisse la rue x repunzel!pesephone!fem!reader

Reader spent their entire life hidden away in a tower to protect her from the outside world wanting her for her powers, its only when a certain daughter of ares finds her scared and confused, that she finally gets to see the outside world like she always longed to.

Warnings:

Toxic parents, yandere!parents, oblivious!, Clarisse being stubborn, overprotectiveness, cannon typical violence, readers not got the best survival instincts 😭, reader is blonde, more to come maybe

Gods had a weird way of protecting people. And while you could confidently say they your parents were never intending to harm you or your siblings. They definitely went about it in weird ways.

Of course you never realised this, being locked away in a tower your entire life was all you even knew. You didn’t understand that your life wasn’t normal.

You didn’t realise you weren’t the only child your parents had hidden off in magical locations to protect them from Zeus and the dangers of the world in their own twisted ways.

And so you stayed where you were, waiting in your tower for the days that your parents would come and visit or the few creatures of the forest you had befriended came to your window.

With not much else to do but paint or read everyday in the same walls. Your hair growing and failing to ever stop, getting to the point of it being constantly in the way.

🍊☀️🪷

Clarisse was beyond confused.

She was 150% sure they had come the same way they had 100 times before. She was convinced. And yet there had never been a giant tower int he middle of the path all the other times they had taken this route.

Her brother suggested that maybe they took a wrong turning, surely they were just lost.

But Clarisse refused to acknowledge the idea she could even being wrong, no she was curtain they came the right way.

Besides they needed somewhere to camp out for the night anyway, so she took off towards the tower.

“Clarisse what are you doing?” Her brother shouted after her, the girl from the Hermes cabin turning to give him a look of annoyance.

The two followed after the girl, watching for a while as she searches around for some sort of entrance before giving up and turning back to them.

“Come on, we need to find a way up” Clarisse tells the two, not being able to find any sort of entrance other than the window near the top of the tower.

“Why?” The blonde girl asked in annoyance, “can’t we just go find somewhere to settle for the night?”

“Yeah clarisse it’s getting late, we can find our bearings in the morning” her brother added.

“This is somewhere to settle for the night” Clarisse stated plainly, rolling her eyes when the two stared at her in confusion, “it’s a giant tower in the middle of nowhere with no doors…no one’s living up there”

“I don’t know Clarisse…I mean this is meant to be a satyr trail, surely someone’s up there” the boy tried to reason.

“Aren’t you curious?” Clarisse asked, “I know we came the right way, this part of the route is blocked off, there is literally no way we got lost”

She was right, this small section of the trail was hidden away, you could only get in and out through two small entrance/exits, covered by plant life to hide it off.

They had been through the secret path a million times and never once was the tower there.

“Well how do you expect we get up?” The girl asked in defeat.

Clarisse looks around for a moment, before grabbing the bag off of her back and pulling out two daggers and holding them up to the two.

“No” the elder boy stated, to which Clarisse turned and made her way towards the walls of the tower, grabbing onto the vines to test their strength, “no no no Clarisse stop it right now”

The girl ignored him, stabbing the dagger into the wall inbetween the cracks and using both of them and the vines to begin to pull herself up the wall.

“I swear to god Clarisse get down right now!”

“I’ll see if there’s another way to get up once I’m up there” Clarisse calls down to them as they stare at her dumbstruck.

“I’m gonna kill you when you get down!” he called up to her.

“I hate your sister” the blonde said to the boy nonchalantly, collapsing to sit on the floor and wait for the ares daughter to be done you her adventure so they could get to bed.

“Tell me about it” the boy replied glaring up at her as she made her way to the top.

Clarisse made her way up, using the, surprisingly strong vines and plants growing off of the tower as her main support on the way up.

Once she made it to the window she pulled herself up on to the ledge, looking down to see her quest mates sat on the ground talking, rolling her eyes at the sight.

She quietly forced the shutters of the large window open, stepping on the flower bed as she climbed through into the room.

🍊☀️🪷

You hadn’t heard anything while Clarisse had been climbing up the walls, busy in your room painting as she entered into the main room of the tower.

Your hair was laid around the different rooms, leading through doors and hanging from ceilings in an attempt to keep it out of your way, something Clarisse stared at in confusion as she quietly wondered around the room.

She was clearly wrong about no one living in the tower, there were candles and lights lit across the room, and a fire lit int he fireplace.

The kitchen was full of food and everything was relatively clean. And not to mention the yards and yards of hair laid across the place.

That’s what confused Clarisse the most, surely no human had this much hair.

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she stepped backwards, tripped on some of said hair and fell onto the floor, alerting you in the other room.

You heard the noise and turned around quickly, your hair curling round you slightly causing it to tug, getting caught underneath Clarisse and yank on your head slightly. Making you squeak in shock.

Clarisse heard this from the other room, her eyes widening as she looking towards the doors that someone clearly resided in.

Both of you grabbed your weapons, Clarisse clutching one of her daggers, and you running to grab a vase off of a cabinet. Inching your way towards the door that separated the two of you as Clarisse stood up.

Clarisse started to walk up the stairs towards the door as you walked down the hallway, both of you stopping at the door before Clarisse decided to push through it suddenly.

You screamed as the mystery girl collapsed on top of her, hair covering your face as you flailed about, trying to get her off of you as she try’s to find the dagger that she lost on the floor.

“Get off of me” you grunted, pushing the hair out of your eyes and attempting to push her off of you, “who are you?”

Clarisse finally finding her dagger, held it to your throat, causing you to stop fighting back, breathless and staring at the weapon in her hand with wide eyes.

“Who are you?” Clarisse retorted, glaring down at the girl as if she wasn’t the one breaking and entering.

“You’re in my home” you say back in shock, frowning at how the knife gets closer to you.

“And I’m holding the dagger…see how this works?” Clarisse tells you with a smirk, flipping it in her hand as she kept it near your throat.

“I-I’m y/n…” you replied slowly, not knowing what to tell her. Looking at her with wide eyes as she huffs in realisation that it wasn’t the most helpful question to ask.

“Well why do you live here?” Clarisse asks noticing the way the girl looked confused and adding, “I mean you’re in the middle of the forest in a tower with no doors…”

“And I mean what’s going on with your hair, it’s so long” Clarisse continued, “and who uses a vase as a weapon?”

You didn’t really know what to say to any of that, looking at her blankly.

“I…don’t know” you answered eventually, adding in a small voice, “can you please get off of me”

Clarisse sighed, getting up slowly but still holding the dagger pointed towards her as she did.

“Why are you in my house?” You asked meekly, staring at the dagger in fear. Clarisse rolled her eyes noticing your wariness, putting the dagger down to her side to try calm you down.

“I’m not gonna hurt you unless you try anything ok?” Clarisse stated, “I was just looking to see if we could stay the night in here, I didn’t realised anyone lived here or anything”

“We?”

“My friends, well not really my friends but, well they’re just outside” Clarisse told you, “why are you in a tower by yourself exactly? And seriously what’s going on with your hair”

“I just live here…I don’t know what you mean” you answered, “and I guess it’s just my hair…my mum says it’s special”

“Your mum? Special how what do you mean”

“I don’t know it just is” you said, “w-wait, no, I’m not meant to tell anyone that”

Clarisses eyebrows furrowed at that, looking at you as though you were an idiot causing you to blush at her.

“Why can’t you tell anyone about your hair…” Clarisse asked.

“Mummy said not to” you said hesitantly.

Clarisse smirked at that, only seconds ago you said you couldn’t tell anyone and yet here you were continuing on with the subject.

“And mummy is?” She asked condescendingly, something you didn’t pick up on as you went to answer.

“Ummm Persephone…” you responded simply.

“What?” Clarisse asked in confusion, looking at you like you were mad. Sure, she knew you couldn’t be mortal, but a demigod?

She supposed the flowers and plants in full bloom in autumn made sense by that, it didn’t quite explain the hair but she was sure it had something to do with that.

“You’re a demigod?” She asked in confusion.

“What?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at her, “what’s that?”

Clarisse stared at you for a moment, you felt like she was scrutinising your entire existence as she looked you up and down.

Suddenly she grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the door, you stumbling as she continued down the stairs towards the main room of the tower and leaving you stood in the middle.

You watched her as she made her way to the window, opening it again and shouting down at her ‘friends’ she told you about earlier.

“It’s all safe” Clarisse shouted, before turning back to you, “do you have any rope?”

You looked at her in shock that she was just inviting people inside your home, speaking when she sent you a look of annoyance, “no?”

Clarisse looked around the room for a moment before settling on your hair that hung around the room, turning back to you with a new look in her eyes.

“You sure?” Clarisse asked, leaning down to pick up your hair and hold it up for you to see.

“W-what? No you can’t use my hair!” You told her, rushing forward to remove it from clarisses hands leaving you stood right in front of her.

She looked down at you with a smirk, taking the hair back, “come on, they won’t hang from it or anything, they just need something to hold for leverage to get up”

You rolled your eyes with a pout at that, looking up at her before walking towards the window, looking down at the two on the ground, who were now beyond confused at the blonde girl appearing.

You leant over to reach the walls of the tower then, Clarisse running over to hold on to you as you stumbled slightly, “be careful!”

You blushed feeling her hands on your hips, shaking yourself out of it and leaning down to touch the plants and vines attached to the stone.

Clarisse watched as the plants grew, covering the side of the wall all over and bits of vines hanging down for the two at the bottom to hold on to.

Once it was fully grown you turned back around to Clarisse, underestimating how close you both were when you did so.

You smiled up at the shocked look on her face, proud of yourself for figuring out a solution to the situation, hearing clarisses brother begin to scale up the side of the wall as you and Clarisse faced each other.

Taglist:

@slaggylemon @yourmom-25s-blog @l0veshellarcelia @asvterias @ashisabitgay

Wanna rewatch tangled now 🤩

Pretty sure this is shit but oh well

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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IM LITERALLY SO EXCITED FOR THIS OMGGG

Tangled masterlist

Clarisse la rue x Pesephone!repunzel!fem!reader

You had spent your entire life hidden away in a tower to protect you from the outside world wanting you for your powers, its only when a certain daughter of ares finds you scared and confused, that she finally gets to see the outside world like you always longed to.

[part 1] out 25/02/2024 3pm

Clarisse finds you hidden in a tower in the woods and realises you might be the daughter of a god

[part 2] coming soon

You finally get to explore the world you’ve always wanted to your entire life, with Clarisse and her quest mates leading you back to camp

[part 3] coming soon

Arriving at camp, you get to meet Chiron and all the other campers, learning more about your heritage and why your parents chose to hide you away

[part 4] coming soon

Your parents realise you’re missing and aren’t very happy you’ve been taken from safety and taken to somewhere anyone could find you

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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HEY!! I saw you were wanting requests from Clarisse, so here's one if you're still accepting them. A Clarisse capture of the flag, so she teases the reader out of jealousy and doesn't admit that she likes someone and even more so someone so alien (I love Clarisse with jealousy and this idea came to me now when I read that you were wanting requests)

Heyy!! I’m so sorry, it’s taking so long. I’m almost done, I just have to proofread it, and I’m wondering if I could make a 2nd part cause I’m honestly loving it 🤭🫶🏽

Is that okay with you?? (●’◡’●)ﾉ♡︎

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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been listening to i want to be evil by eartha kitt (still the best catwoman) and so here’s just a little taste of what i’ve been thinking:

selina never imagined herself a mother. but yet, here she is making a daughter of you.

she’d found you on a wintery night in an oversized coat, drenched from the almost constant sleet covering the cracked pavement and asphalt streets surrounding central park. her sharp eyes took in the sight of you with a long pause and a click of her tongue. she sees you - sees through you - a pickpocket with a sweet smile, a pretty little face that comes with a pure demeanor and a wicked mind for schemes.

and you see her, leather clad and illuminated under wet orange street lights, caressed by the extreme reds and blues of police sirens rushing by to attend to whatever crime, violent or otherwise, has spread itself across park avenue. she’s the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.

so for christmas, selina got herself a daughter. she found herself pulling you along to get cleaned up in her apartment, setting up an extra room - internally, noting that it’s just until she can find a more responsible parent, or give retribution to whatever poor sap left their beautiful kid on a park bench for the holidays.

working hard and stealing harder to put you through school.

she snarks that it’s no big deal, that she’s not a motherly type - all while working her slender fingers into your hair, braiding it bit by bit with the same intricate precision that she might have when cracking the code of a safe.

she gives you pretty clothes and getting you classes that teach you to defend yourself against the ever-frightening threats that look around the corner and crevices of gotham city’s lower east side.

selina doesn’t get nervous or frozen particularly often but she can’t help but stiffen just a bit when one day - months into your residency which she still swears is a temporary arrangement - you go from calling her “selina” to casually slipping out “mami.”

it was a simple sentence too - “mami, we’re out of eggs.” it’s not something that should phase a seasoned cat-burglar; a criminal who occasionally fashions herself a hero and constantly goes toe-to-toe with the city’s iconic bat. and yet it does.

“what?” she says, oh so quietly as if she doesn’t even realize the breath required to make the word as it leaves her lungs.

“huevos, mami. we need eggs.”

and with that simple request her mind has set your residency and connection from temporary to permanent. she has stolen you from your old life. you are a diamond in the rough and like every diamond she has stolen you are hers, permanently, regardless of your original caretaker.

hers to sew a costume for that will aid your identity as her sidekick. a motherly catwoman, and her precocious kitten-like stray.

hers to protect. to protect from the seductive and predatory gangsters that line the gotham streets. to protect from speeding cars and corrupt cops.

you are hers to cover in blankets, that are warmed on her radiator. it’s the blistering hot kind that clangs with that harsh metallic sound - water clenching and expanding through the steel pipes of the old apartment.

and in the summer, you’re hers to place in cute girlish sundresses. hers to count her spare change for (the cash she can afford to carry around after rent and bills are paid, clothing, commute, and less-than-legal armor, weapons and jewelry). to sit on the stoops of the downtown brownstones, while admiring how you somersault, laugh and skip with younger kids - all gathered around the gushing, clear rush open fire hydrants.

you’re hers to share popsicles and pizza slices with as you’re left to wonder how it never affects her slim figure.

hers to speak spanish to, like her mamí did. (although she curses at you less at least - you’re less spoiled on account of growing up with less than she did, and you’re less trouble than she ever was.)

you shy clear of drugs and beer, your only remotely painful addiction is ballet class, and your smile is sweet.

she’s a good mom, a good catwoman and a good protector.

but she can’t protect you from everything.

she can’t protect you from noticing a billionaire’s newly adopted son sitting next to you in class.

she can’t protect you from brushing your fingers across his bruised knuckles, noticing the way he jumps from scrawny to filled out and muscular over just a few months.

she can’t protect you from the way your dimples show, lips curving up at the way his green eyes catch yours in english class.

the way you bond with him over being street kids. the way you bond with this boy - this sweet, rash boy - in the day, unknowing of what you two do in the night, costumed identities hidden from even each other.

the tragedy she knows all to well. the tragedy of falling for a doomed orphan who acts as a savior in darkness of gotham nights.

she can’t protect you from that.

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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Can someone send in some Clarisse requests please?? I’m in need some inspo for my horrendous writer’s block 🫶🏽🫶🏽

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse x you

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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— The Pain of Loving You

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Diana Prince x Fem! Reader

─ In the grief of losing one, she also lost you.

cw ཿ⠀ wlw. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of losing a loved one. mostly proof read. the reader speaks a little greek, but the translation could be wrong (sorry if it is (｡•́︿•̀｡)). 860 words.

ପ a/n ; might do a part 2 to this. i’ve been wanting to write for diana for a while now. a really quick story, i hope you enjoy!

She sees your smile in old photographs, newspapers, and paintings. To her, it was a sight that rivaled even the most magnificent artworks. She hears your laughter in her dreams, an endearing sound that makes her heart flutter. Her hand reaches out towards you, yearning to feel the warmth of your skin under her touch, but her fingertips are always met with the coldness of your absence.

The dull, painful ache pulls her from her slumber. She groans softly as she turns to stare at the ceiling. Another night’s rest ruined in the grief of loving you. Or perhaps, not loving you is the more appropriate expression for it. The loss of her previous love, a noble pilot who had managed to capture her heart, had made it difficult to fully love another.

She had loved you. She truly did, but she couldn’t love you the way you deserved—not then. So, she let you go. A brilliant researcher and journalist with an insatiable hunger to explore the world. She refused to let her heartache keep you from pursuing your dreams, no matter how much you were willing to stay. She can still feel the bitter ache from the argument that night, but regardless of your stubborn protests—she refused to let you allow your dreams to die for her.

You were given an opportunity, a once in a lifetime. She couldn’t let you pass that up—not for her. The sad smile you gave her as you fought back tears slips into her mind. She shuts her eyes in protest, trying to block out the memory, but the unwanted reminiscence persists.

She stood with you at the docks, her hands tenderly held yours. Your hands felt so cold despite the thickness of your gloves. The cold spring air betrayed the clear, sunny morning. The sight of a beautiful day was nearly as deceiving as the forced smile that rested on your lips. Your gaze was avoidant as you focused solely on her hands wrapped around yours.

“(Y/n)?” She called your name softly, quickly catching your attention. You looked up at her with teary eyes, your smile seeming more sorrowful by the second as you hummed softly in response. Her heart breaks, a brief moment of regret over her decision to let you go. In a moment of weakness, she almost wanted to plead with you to stay, “Stay safe.”

Almost. She doesn’t miss the way your smile faltered, the small hopeful look in your eyes dimming a bit more. She knew what you wanted her to say, but she wouldn’t. It would’ve only given you more of a reason to stay.

You cleared your throat, steadying your voice. Your posture straightened a bit as you tried to maintain your composure. You adjusted your smile, it was less forced—much more relaxed. Your voice wavered a bit, “I will…”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but stopped yourself. You looked away, laughing softly to yourself, trying to keep yourself from breaking down. She smiled softly as she watched you pick up your bags before looking back at her. The tears in your eyes looked as if they would fall in any minute, but the smile you gave her brought a pleasant feeling to her heart. You were never one for sad goodbyes, always finding them more heartbreaking than anything else, “It’s been wonderful knowing you, Diana.”

One final goodbye, she thought. She hummed softly in response, not being able to find it in herself to say the same in turn without tears following shortly after. You didn’t seem to mind though, walking onto the ship without so much as another glance. Another effort to save face Diana knew.

Once the ship blared its horn, parting its way with the docks, Diana turned to leave. She took a few deep breaths, pushing down the tears—along with the heartache. She tried to delude herself into thinking that these feelings weren’t so deep, that she wasn’t—

“Diana!” Your voice breaks through her thoughts. She looked back towards the boat, sailing away, seeing you leaning over the railing, waving to get her attention. Your smile was genuine, as pure as the sun painted in the sky, your tears slip from your eyes the moment they meet hers.

She hears you. She heard you. But for a second, she doubts she hears correctly—immediately believing it was just fabrication of her own delusions until she hears you yell it out again, just as proudly and longingly as the first.

“Σ'αγαπώ!”

A small, depressed laugh slips past Diana’s lips as all her efforts to hold her composure become futile. She breaks away from the memory and the tears come flowing all over again. She cries heavily, resting her arm over her eyes in embarrassment. She felt like a child, sobbing over something treasured and lost.

She knows her feelings of regret are reasonable, and so are her tears. She just wished you were here to soothe her back to sleep like you did all those years ago. She loves you. She truly does. She just wishes she could have another chance to love you the way you deserved.

[ “I love you” in Greek is Σ'αγαπώ (S'agapo). Here, Σε (se) means “you,” and αγαπώ (agapo) means “I love.” — fluentin3months.com ]

#diana prince x reader #diana prince #diana of themyscira #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman #diana x reader #diana x you #diana prince x you #dc x reader

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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fault is false

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- clarisse la rue x fem! demigod! reader

synopsis: When clarisse begins to notice you spending your time with a certain new camper, strange anger starts to bubble inside her.

authors note: Ahhh! finally… clarisse! I absolutely adore miss la rue and am so excited to see dior play her quest in season two of the series! also.. part two of this fic, maybe?

jealousy.

it was known as an ugly emotion- something that changed perspectives, ruined relationships.

when clarisse thought of jealousy— she thought of someone’s boyfriend who was envious of the fact his lover was interacting with another boy too much— or she was spending ‘too much time’ with her friends— Clarisse thought it was utterly stupid, being jealous about who someone spends their time with? She could laugh in their face. Her ego was too big for her to even think about her dating someone, let alone getting jealous.

She watched her friends become jealous about their boyfriends, saying how ‘he spends too much time with her”. or something pathetic like that. Honestly, clarisse pittied her friends who felt that way- how much self confidence do you lack in order to be envious about who your partner talks to? not her, her self esteem was out of the roof, each step she took shook the earth.

not to mention the fact there was you. Clarisse’s right hand, her closest ally, dare she say her best friend— you drew her in like a moth to a flame the moment her dark chocolate eyes landed on your face, confused and worried about the place you were supposed to fit into; Camp Halfblood.

You’ve been close with the daughter of ares for years now, finding your place in the palm of her hand. You two were the definition of ‘opposites attract.’ You were one of the many daughters of Aphrodite, beautiful and sweet just like your mother— The goddess of love.

Clarisse knew people would fall to their knees for you, and that is why she took such pride in having you as a close ally. Not only were you an attractive girl, you could definitely put up a fight, and she loved your battles that would take place between the two of you in the wooden forest of the camps boundaries.

the curly haired girl would rather kill herself than admit to the desperate pounding of her heart and heat that tickled her face upon you being just as much as in her proximity. The feelings that slowly but surely edged their way into her metal heart began slow, uneasy. The pitter patter of her hearts blood vessels thumping hardly against her chest like rain drops to a metal shield, loud and heavy. The warmth that kissed her cheeks softly started as a blame for the warmth of summer, tossing it off as a flush from the heat.

clarisse had never had a reason to be jealous- not of her friends, not of her siblings, not of anyone. Except jealousy seems to be the only emotion she’s been feeling since the arrival of the new camper, Percy Jackson.

Percy came to camp beside grover, late on a stormy night— whispers of him slaying a minotaur were quickly spread around camp as he got his beauty rest in Mr D’s healing lodge, where he was unconscious for a few days with grover by his side, watching closely.

Clarisse has instantly denied the rumor, although she’s never met the boy— killing a monster before spending your very first night at camp let alone without any training at all? Most of the kids at camp half blood had waited most of their lives to fight and kill a monster, so why had he done it so easily? the situation itself was annoying her to the core— not to mention the fact that she she was angry to see how much you seemed to be amazed by the rumor, asking about the boy and even having the audacity to ask if he was okay. Rage bubbled in her chest at your curiosity, but she shoved it down and said it was all a lie, and that you needn’t worry about such a petty, little liar such as the so called Percy jackson.

Even though you had doubts, curiosity was still in your nature. In all honesty, you pitied the boy even though you hadn’t even met him. Not because of the fact he most likely did slay a minotaur, but the fact that after something like that spread so quickly while he was regaining his days worth of much needed rest— when he awoke, he was due to get some unkind comments and unfaithful glares from campers such as clarisse herself. You knew how hard it could be to find friends in a new place, especially when you discover you weren’t only human, but the blood of a god ran through your body.

so being the kind person you were, you tired to gather as much positive information from the suspicious campers about the boy that you could, not understanding why clarisse was glaring so heavily at you from across the room. You’d thought maybe it was because your curiosity meant you actually believed the so called ‘fake rumors’, or because you’ve been spending just a little less time with her.

Either way, you were only wondering.

The day Percy Jackson awoke, you were chewing some grapes at the wooden tables in the camps dining area, watching clarisse spar with her spear in order to prepare for this week’s camp halfblood’s annual capture the flag tournament, something clarisse looked forward to and took great pride in, having won many times before.

You watched with precise eyes, locking on to every muscle that flexed on her toned arms, the the hair on her head that seems to be extra beautiful each day— to the single sweat drop that fell down her forehead. popping another grape into your mouth— you felt a tap to your shoulder, tearing your eyes from the sparing daughter of ares to the person behind you— Luke Castellan.

You’ve known Luke for some time, he was one of the kind people to welcome you to camp halfblood, and you’ve always been on good terms with the friendly boy.

you smiled, awaiting his words. “Percy jackson woke up, I know you’ve been asking around for him. He’s staying in hermes cabin, come stop by.” Luke offered, and you finished chewing and swallowed your grape, smile more wide. “I’d love to! Can we go now? or is he sleeping? I’ve been sitting here for hours,” You laugh, motioning to clarisse who was continuing to slam her spear into someone’s shield. Luke grinned, turning away and waving you over. unaware of the glaring, dark chocolate eyes that followed your form with anger indescribable by any words, You followed after the boy, chittering along the path back to his and his siblings cabin— which also hosted unclaimed children.

When you both made it back, You saw percy was still sleeping, cautiously walking into the room even though the other campers were wide awake and moving around.

Suddenly, he jumped awake, a gasp leaving his mouth. Luke stepped forward, “You okay?”

“Super,” the curly blonde boy replied, removing his sleeping bag cover from his body. “we all have them, you know. intense, reoccurring nightmares. That’s normal here.” You watched as the newest camper rose from his sheets on the floor, walking towards Luke, who now stood a few feet ahead of you, leaving you beside some of his half siblings.

“daydreaming, ADHD, and dyslexia. demigods just… process reality differently than humans do.” Percy had a confused look on his pale skinned face, blue eyes staring into nothing but thought at Luke’s words.

“for the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.”

percy stood for a minute, seemingly debating his words before deciding to speak up, stuttering as he asked; “so are you also.. do you not know who—“

“am i unclaimed?” luke asked for him, to which percy nodded. “Hermes is my father.” You saw the twitch in his brow at the name of his dad, you knew how much he despised him. “That doesn’t matter— we’re all on the same team here.”

The two continued to talk, Percy asking genuinely good questions, and you peaked outside to see what people were doing in preparation for Capture the flag. your attention was pulled back when luke once again tapped your shoulder, pulling you from your thought. You turned to meet Percy’s blue eyes, curiosity swarming in them.

“This is Y/n, daughter of Aphrodite. She’s been wanting to meet you. The rumors spreading are pretty interesting.” You smiled at luke’s introduction, sticking out your hand. The boy gingerly took it, smiling at you shyly. “It’s nice to meet you, i’ve heard a lot.” you shake his hand quickly, only stopping when Luke took your hand off his. “Let’s show him around, yeah?” You nodded, a continuous smile on your face as you three walked outside the doors of cabin 11.

“Demigods have always fought for glory,” Luke explained, looking to you to add on. “They used to call it Kleos. it’s like this stuff that attaches itself to your name.” You added— “Yeah, it makes it seem bigger, scarier, more important.” luke continued.

“people listen closer when you talk,” you three took a turn, Percy beside you to the left, Luke beside you to the right. “they work harder to be your friend.”

“and they think twice about messing with you.” As if on cue, clarisse came from nowhere— slamming her shoulder into percy, who expressed surprise— “hey!” he yelped, of to which clarisse turned her head, pushing against his chest and easily shoving him to the floor.

“woah,” luke says, watching the uncounted.

“clarisse!” you gasp,

“knock it off, clarisse. it’s his first day, come on.” luke commented, stepping between you and her.

“are you okay, percy?” You ask, bending down and quickly helping the boy up as clarisse furrows her brows. “Wait, so this is the kid who killed the minotaur. is that right?” Her tone was cocky, you furrowed your own brows at her attitude, still holding percy’s arm even as he stood on his own. “yeah..” he looked around at her words.

“i’ll bet.” Her tone was venomous, you frown upon her voice. “look, you want attention around here, dummy? better be ready for it when it comes.” she jumped at him slightly, scaring the boy.

You sigh at her actions, noticing her eyes quickly flicker between the hand you had on the boys arm before her gaze locked with yours, an upset look upon her face as she turned on her heal and walked off.

“she seems nice.” Percy sigh out, pursing his lips. You laugh, awkwardly. “I’m sorry on behalf of her, she can be like that.” You nod, taking your hand off the newcomers arm and watching Luke step forward to stand beside you. “Ares kids. Don’t mess with them. only y/n can do that.” You elbowed Luke’s arm as your face heated up in embarrassment, huffing at the boy. “what do you mean?”

Luke smirked, well aware of the tension between you and clarisse. “I mean— Y/n is the only person in this whole camp who clarisse respects. So, better be nice to her, just in case.” You scoff, “that is not true, Percy. Just… be nice, and don’t treat her how she treats you. She’s working on it.” You smile, continuing forward with the tour of the camp— once more unaware of the fiery brown eyes glaring deadly daggers at Percy Jackson.

—

clarisse had never felt the putrid, soul turning, gut wrenching jealousy that she had been experiencing for the past several hours. At the very beginning of it, she had crossed it as anger, anger at the fact that today, on Friday— you’ve spent barely any time with her.

You knew how much of a passion Capture the Flag was to clarisse, and yet you decided to spend every hour of the day away from her except the hour before the tournament. Clarisse almost growled when she saw you approaching beside Luke and Percy, chatting away with a smile on your face. A smile that should be reserved for her, and only her.

The daughter of ares had been biting down so hard on her cheek, she hadn’t realized she’d been doing so until the unfamiliar metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, groaning as she looked away; spitting the blood filled saliva that tickled her throat.

but, her eyes wasted no time in flickering back to you.

That day forward, was the absolute worst. Not only had percy won on his first try, He broke something so dear to clarisse. One of her three spears given to her by her father, Ares. She’d fought the urge to fight the boy fist to fist and see how he’d handle the slam of her knuckle to his puny freckled face— but gave up hope when she saw you emerge from the words at her scream.

The look on your face was pure worry, litters of fear swarmed in your pupils at the sound of clarisse’s loud yell, but they turned to surprise as a Trident crafted from water sat upon the air above Percy Jackson, claiming who his father was;

Poseidon, God of the Sea.

To clarisse, who his father was meant nothing to her, she could not care less- but the look on your face made her want to strangle both Percy and his father.

Clarisse was fuming as she stood from the ground, her aura terrifying to even the birds in the trees, her steps booming. She passed you with a harsh shove to the shoulder, clenching her jaw so hard the bone might snap, yet she payed little mind to it as Percy was generously rewarded for his win.

You followed after her quickly, knowing her thought pattern when she lost something— which was not a common occurrence. “clarisse,” you called out to deaf ears, campers flooding away from the fuming girl as she tore her way through camp, leaving red hot lava steps in her wake.

When she reached her cabin, she whipped open the door so fast, it almost flew off the hinges, beginning to slam it behind her before you caught it.

The brown haired girl was pacing with pure rage, shoulders raised, fists clenched and body shaking. You knew she wouldn’t cry, but she was so upset you thought her body might have a clinical reaction.

“clarisse..” you whispered, nervous of her reply. Her eyes snapped to you, jaw tightening.

You felt a tinge of fear as she stomped over to you— “You knew! You knew he would win and you helped him!” She yelled at you, using her hands to motion back to the battlefield. “You were supposed to be on my team! He wasn’t supposed to win!” She screamed in your face, deep voice breaking with frustration as her eyes bore into yours, anger the only emotion present in them.

You harrowed your eyebrows, clenching you own jaw as she berated you- causing your bottom lip to stick out. Clarisse had never screamed at you like this before, So loudly it bounced off the walls ten times louder.

“You spent all day with him, too! is he your new best friend? Huh?!” she backed up, “do you like, have a crush on him now or something?” her demeanor changed rapidly as she laughed, voice laced with fury as she looked down upon you. “right. perfect little son of Poseidon. gods, you would, wouldn’t you?” Her anger bubbled to something.. different, and you stood bewildered by her words.

“You are so pathetic, Y/n. you know that? I mean, your mother isn’t even a warrior, and everyone knows she is only liked because she is pretty. And I see that’s something you inherited, hm? where are all your friends now?” Her words cut deep, pricking tears at the corners of your eyes as she smiled sadistically at you, your bottom lip wobbling, to your embarrassment.

“No wonder you only are around me. I’m the only one who listens to your stupid rambles and dumb thoughts, and i only do it to spare the others. It’s no surprise your mother adores you, You’ll be just like her when you grow older, just a toy for other people use, right?” Clarisse was so caught up in spewing any insults she could muster out about about you, she failed to notice how your eyes were watery and face was rosy— not until you cried.

Clarisse had only see you cry once, when a boy made fun of your hair when you were small. She beat him up, swearing that if anyone ever made you cry she’d hurt them. But now, she was the one making you cry, Unable to stop her cruel words from slipping from her mouth even as thick tears rolled down your cheeks, and not as you turned away and left her cabin, not even slamming the door.

The moment you were gone from her sight, Guilt ate her alive. Pure regret at her words, she screamed into the air, pulling her hair and kicking chairs and bags littered around Ares children’s cabin, breaking glasses and throwing items, messing up beds and destroying unimportant belongings.

she threw her sheets off her bed, tossing them to the floor in anger at herself— eyes catching sight of something unfamiliar. A box.

It was small and square, flower design littering the outside. It read ‘To: Clarisse, From: y/n’

the girl sigh at the smiley face you put down beside her name, calloused finger brushing against it as she opened the box- revealing the contents.

It was your homemade baklava. You knew clarisse adored your recipe, and you’d make it for her as often as you could- as it took time.

fear swelled in her heart at the thought of losing you, especially after what she’d just done. Regret has never been so outrageous, and she put down the box you’ve left for her.

You weren’t spending all day with Luke and Percy, you spent your time making this for her.

“Fuck.”

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venusphoriia · 10 months ago

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— Drunken Tears and Soft Confessions

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Dionysus! Reader

─ you drink away the pain, hoping it will eventually fill the void. It never does.

cw ཿ⠀ friends to lovers (high key implied), self harm, alcohol abuse, depressive thoughts, hurt with comfort, angst to fluff, not proof read. 1.9k words.

ପ a/n ; requested! please read the cw! took a lot longer than I expected, sorry (＃＞＜)♡︎ The ending didn’t come out like I hoped (╥_╥) I hope you enjoy anyway !

The alcohol burns your throat bitterly, the taste just as awful. Normally, pouring yourself a glass would be in honor of celebration or simply a time to enjoy yourself—unfortunately, as of late these times have been different. Instead of laughing joyfully, tears slip past your eyes with each sip you take.

A dull, itching pain worsens as you mindlessly swish the liquid in the glass. Fresh bandages hide deep crimson cuts, results from practice you’ll say, but anyone with the patience to care enough would know better. A quiet sob leaves your lips as you pull your knees closer to your chest.

This torment nearly drives you mad. You drown yourself in liquor, praying it would fill this feeling of emptiness that plagues you each night. You try to cut away at the anxieties, the fear of wasting away into nothing. You try to pinpoint the source of your anguish. Perhaps it was the lack of the will to live, maybe it was the disappointment of never feeling like you’ve done quite enough—or maybe it was the yearning for acknowledgment from the only parent you had left.

You lean back against the wall, tossing back the rest of your drink—a burning distaste following after. It does so little to quell the depressing feeling. You felt pathetic. You stare blankly at the nearly empty bottle before you, your thoughts becoming louder—drowning out all other senses. You’re falling, back into a time you begged you could forget—back into memories you tried desperately to avoid.

Footsteps approach, but they don’t completely break you from your trance. You assume it’s one of your siblings checking on you like they always did. Perhaps, they came to snatch the bottle from you to stop you from sinking deeper into your despair.

“(Y/n)?” The oddly soft, concerned tone of voice pulls you back from your drunken stupor. You recognize her voice—how could you not? But for the sake of what little remains of your pride, you try to delude yourself into thinking it wasn’t. You probably misheard or maybe you’ve truly gone mad; hallucinating her as a form of comfort in such desperate times.

And when she doesn’t speak again, your delusion seems plausible. Your tense body relaxes a bit, and you begin to sink back into your drunken mind. That is until you see her hand gingerly grab the empty glass from your hand, placing it alongside the bottle of liquor. Her fingertips brief brush against yours as she does so and it’s then that you realize she was no figment of your imagination.

She takes a seat next to you, on your disheveled bed, mindful to keep a bit of distance out of concern for your comfort. Although, your comfort is very little as you become painfully aware of your own pitiful state. Your hair a mess, your body felt uncomfortably filthy—you wanted to crawl away into a deep, dark corner and never be found again. This embarrassment made your body language more tense and withdrawn, subconsciously moving a bit farther away to maintain more distance.

She frowns softly. You see her expression out of the corner of your eye and turn away. You’ve seen the same look far too often these days, it was the same one your siblings would give you every time they came to snatch the bottle from your hands. It was a look of concern, unsaid words that drove daggers in your heart. You want to ease their worries, you want to get better, but you can't find the strength within yourself.

A few moments of silence follows. She gently grabs your hand, but you’re quick to pull away. The shame of being seen in such a drunken state by her was too much to bear, “Clarisse, please—”

Your voice comes out weak, your pleading tone wraps around her heart tightly. When you quickly try to pull away, her hand wraps around your wrist firmly. The tight grip immediately makes you wince, a small hiss of pain slipping past your lips. Clarisse loosens her grip with a look of confusion on her face before looking down at your wrist.

She attempts to pull back your sleeve. You quickly reach out to stop her, your free hand grabbing her wrist, briefly stopping her movements. She looks at you, your eyes meeting hers for the first time since she’s walked in. Neither of you speak, but within the same breath, neither of you look away.

You can almost hear your heart beating loudly through the silence, your thoughts in shambles trying to figure out what exactly is she thinking about. Her perception of you is ruined—your mind is convinced—there is no forgetting something like this. The urge to cry is slowly crawling up your throat as her eyes finally break away from yours.

Your hold around her wrists has loosen greatly, she slowly pulls back your sleeve, careful not to hurt you like she did before. She turns your wrist over, seeing the fresh blood that stained the white bandages. She doesn’t need to remove them to know what’s underneath.

“It’s nothing,” You mumbles softly, breaking through the silence as you watching Clarisse stare wordlessly at your bandaged wrists; your intoxicated judgement finds it best to play naive, feigning innocence in hopes to repair this uncomfortable tension in the air.

Clarisse sighs softly, her brows furrowed a bit in irritation, but she remains mindful of her tone. She looks back at you, clearly not buying your words. Her voice is soft, yet firm as she speaks, “Bullshit.”

You roll your eyes, letting go of Clarisse’s wrist before trying to snatch back your own, “I’m fine, it’ll practically be healed by tomorrow.”

A lie. And you both know it. Clarisse allows you to snatch your wrist back, watching quietly for a moment as you gently rub it in a poor attempt to soothe the pain. Clarisse’s quietness breaks your attention away from your wrist, glancing towards her in confusion. You had expected her to say something, anything by now—perhaps even a small petty insult.

She doesn’t. Instead, she stares at you, patiently waiting for you to admit that your anything, but okay. You click your tongue in annoyance before mumbling a few curses under your breath. You realized it was pointless to keep up this act with Clarisse, knowing she could see right through your lies.

“I’ll be fine, this is just…a small setback,” You said perhaps a bit too lightly as you see Clarisse grow a bit more irritated at your poor attempt to lighten the mood. You force a small sheepish smile in hopes to ease the tension a bit. It doesn’t.

“A small setback? Is that really what you want to call this?” Clarisse retorts, a little harsher than she intended. Her eyes don't break away from you once, noticing every little change in your movements. Your gaze becomes much more avoidant, your hands fidgety, and your body language tenses—she realizes she’s coming off too harsh.

Another sigh leaves her lips and she looks away from you. You fall silent, feeling more awkward than anything at the moment. Clarisse isn’t sure of the right thing to say or do, she’s never been good when it comes to emotions or being vulnerable. She’s the daughter of Ares after all.

“You should speak to your father,” Clarisse advises, running a hand through her hair as she looks back at you. She can’t help, but glance between you and the self-inflicted wounds on your wrist. The soft look of concern and—perhaps even—sympathy.

You scoff, a bitter chuckle leaving your lips at Clarisse’s words. In all truth, you would rather be burned at the stake than to speak to him about this. There wasn’t a cell in your body that believed he would even care enough to pretend to listen, “Like hell I will.”

Clarisse finds herself getting annoyed at your dismissive tone, quickly becoming defensive like she normally does, “Well, it’s better than nothing.”

“Look—I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine,” your words sound far from grateful, completely falling short of how you truly felt. You become a bit harsher in return, building your walls higher as you wish for this whole conversation to be done with. You look down at your hands, biting back tears—not wanting to look any more pathetic than you already felt.

Clarisse falls quiet. She knows she’ll fail at words if she tries to speak and she doesn’t know what other words of advice to give. But still, she wants to comfort you, hating the fact that she’s been too ignorant towards your state for this long.

Hesitantly, Clarisse gently grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. You looked up at her confused, you had a feeling of what Clarisse was attempting to do, but you struggled to fully believe it. She watches you carefully for any sign of resistance or discomfort, you remain placid and she continues to pull you closer.

She hugs you close, wrapping her arms around you firmly. Your whole body tenses, you bite your lip harshly to silence the sobs clawing at your throat. The taste of iron is bitter on your tongue as you struggle to hold back your tears. Your drunken state only makes your emotions feel stronger.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse whispers softly, her voice oddly tender and endearing. Her touch is gentle and comforting, her body is warm as you listen to her steady heartbeat. She holds you tight enough as if afraid it might be the last—and yet her touch remains cautious as if you were the most precious thing she has ever loved, “I’ve got you.”

Her words break you. Your walls crumble completely as you begin to sob heavily. You grab onto her tightly as you cry into her shoulder. She quietly lets you, listening as your tears break through the silence. Her heart aches when she hears you try to mumble indistinguishable words through your broken sobs. Your pained filled rant simmers down into apologies, guilt washing over you in waves.

Clarisse remains quiet, her hand rests gently on the back of your neck—while the other rubs soothing motions on your back. Your cries begin to soften after a while, fatigue slowly creeps through your body. Your breathing heavy from the once harsh sobs that tore through you. Your voice was hoarse as you tried to weakly mumble one last apology.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, pretty girl,” a small, sad smile slips onto Clarisse’s lips, she gingerly kisses away your tears. Your heart flutters softly at the endearing act, a soft chuckle slips past her lips and you swear your heart nearly skipped a beat, “It’s okay, I’ve gotcha.”

You smile softly, too tired to give a response in turn. A few quiet moments pass, your eyes feel a bit heavier and your breathing becomes a bit more relaxed. Clarisse doesn’t mind, shifting into a more comfortable position for you. You grumble softly, causing Clarisse to roll her eyes a bit before placing one last kiss on your forehead.

Clarisse leans her head back against the wall, sighing deeply. She feels your soft breath brushing against her skin, feelings she’s tried to keep buried crawl up to the surface. The words slip past her lips without her notice, a soft confession barely above a whisper. It wasn’t until she felt you smile against her skin that she realized you felt the same.

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