I Can See You
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader
—-
sypnosis: you and clarisse work together to get revenge on a mutual enemy, but when that plan involves pretending to date clarisse, something better than revenge happens. requested by anonymous!
a/n: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE HOLY FRICK. the beginning is so bad and just like worldbuilding but i PROMISE!!!!! keep reading!!!!!! pls ignore the fact im reusing jackie and tyla i’m attached to them anyways i hope you all enjoy!!
I Can See You - Taylor Swift
(also Dress by tay was the original title soooo…..)
warnings: not proofread, the beginning is so bad i swear it gets better, a little suggestive haha…., kissing ofc, fake dating!!!!!!!!!, JEALOUS CLARISSE JEALOUS CLARISSE I REPEAT JEALOUS CLARISSE!!!!!!!, swearing, violence, mentions of murder!, protective clarisse the loml, ALCOHOL!!!!! reader gets drunk, allusions to sex, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT please be VERY careful, tell me if i missed anything!!
—-
“What the hell are you all doing?”
You had waited until nighttime for a reason, for the light of the full moon and hopefully some peace. You and your siblings looked up at the voice.
Xavier Bones was possibly the rudest and most self-centered person you had ever had the displeasure of meeting. His father was Ares, which made sense, seeing as he had a wicked temper and was strong as shit. Most of the kids from the Ares cabin could probably snap you like a stick if they wanted, but what scares you about Xavier is that he might actually do it.
He’s rude to everyone he sees, but he particularly has it out for the Aphrodite cabin. Just because Aphrodite kids didn’t have skill in battle like Ares kids, or aren’t wicked smart like Athena kids doesn’t mean they’re worthless. Xavier just didn’t understand anything except brute force.
He didn’t understand any other kind of power.
The whole reason you’re out here tonight is to finally finish the potion you’ve been making. Amokinesis was strictly a spoken sort of magic, and it was hard to do it to more than one person. But, you and your siblings had decided that maybe you could try and follow in the steps of sorceresses like Medea and Circe, using spelled objects and potions to execute your power. You had been collaborating with a Hecate kid for weeks now, learning everything you could about potion making until you were finally ready to try and make a simple truth potion- love and desire also opened the door to truth.
Aster, the daughter of Hecate who had been helping you, said it was a relatively easy first timer potion and hopefully with your Amokinesis it would come together.
You look up at Xavier, watching as he smiles in disbelief.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying to make some sort of love potion, huh?” He sits down at the picnic table, curiously leaning in to look at it.
“Get back,” Jackie, your sibling, hisses waving her hand at him so he’ll back up.
“Okay, okay,” he smiles, some glint in his eyes. He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re wasting all this time, seeing as it probably won’t work.”
“Shut up, Xavier,” you sighed. You needed this bad. You needed to prove to everyone that love wasn’t a stupid power. You were so sick of Xavier, of everyone and their treatment of the Aphrodite cabin. Jackie wanted so desperately to learn how to use a spear, but no one would pay enough attention to her.
You need this.
“I thought you guys were supposed to be nice?”
You opt to ignore him.
“Hm, okay, definitely not nice. Good thing I’m not either.”
He spits his gum out and drops it straight into the cauldron.
“Fucking bitch!” Jackie screams, Tyla looks like she’s about to cry, and the wooden spoon you’re holding in your hands is about to crack under the pressure.
The potion changes an odd color, a murky brown.
“Oops,” he says.
He laughs and walks away, and you faintly wonder what happened to him to make him so cruel.
—-
The next morning you’re all stewing silently at breakfast. Jackie is glaring daggers at the Ares table, Tyla is ranting about how you need to get all the ingredients again, and you’re trying to listen and join Jackie at staring maliciously.
“I’m gonna murder him, I think.”
“I’ll help,” you murmur, favoring staring at your hands instead of being caught staring at him.
“Do you think Clarisse will let me borrow her spear? How much would that sting, getting killed by one of your Dad’s weapons, huh?”
“She probably would,” Tyla mumbles. “She hates him too, ever since he beat her sparring.”
You resist the urge to scoff. You were there that day, and Xavier had played dirty.
They were sparring, she was winning, when he suddenly pointed behind her and shouted that Ares was there. Of course, everyone had turned to look, and he had disarmed her and kicked her down while she was distracted.
Of course, the next day he was walking around sporting a black eye, but Clarisse had never lived that day down. Xavier had never lived that down, either, exactly why they’re sitting on opposite ends of the table now.
Jackie stares off into the distance. She lets out a small laugh.
“I have a horrible idea.”
“What if we make Xavier fall in love with one of us, right?”
You and Tyla both gag.
“Wait, wait! But then we just lead him on, and maybe Clarisse will do us a favor and pretend to date-”
Tyla snorts. “She would never do that.”
You remember seeing the anger on her face that day. The rage, really, the betrayal. But you remember seeing the sadness too. A part of her had really thought Ares was gonna be there. You remember feeling so, so bad for her.
No one should deserve to feel like that, but it comes with the territory of being a demigod.
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”
Tyla and Jackie stare at you like you’ve just cursed out Hades.
“I’ll do it. Tyla, no offense, but I think you’d crack under the pressure. And Jacks, you would just start punching him.”
“Yeah,” Tyla murmurs.
“I would,” Jackie agrees.
“I mean, it might actually work.”
—-
You corner her the next day.
She’s outside her cabin, practicing some spear forms when you walk over to her. This is all moving so fast, but you can’t help the fact that revenge is so fun. Why wait when you can get it now?
Revenge is supposed to be served best cold, but you’ve always been a little too handsy, a little too greedy for your own good. You want revenge and you want it now.
“Clarisse, hi.” You smile, she spares you a glance and doesn’t say anything. “I’m Y/N, you don’t know me but I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”
The spear stops in mid air. She moves from a offensive position to a standing position, and she looks you up and down so painfully slow that you think your organs are gonna burst.
“What?”
“So, you know Xavier?” you sit down on the picnic bench behind you. “I’m sure you know him, and I’m sure you know that he’s an asshole. He ruined something me and my siblings were doing, and he’s been so rude to all Aphrodite kids for so long so, we just wanna get him back.
She squints at you. “How?”
“We’re gonna use our amokinesis to make him fall in love with me, then maybe, hopefully, we can fake date to make him lose his mind.”
She stares at you blankly for a second. Your heart drops, oh, Gods, you never should have done this.
You’re gonna be the laughingstock of camp.
“‘Cause, you know, you both hate each others guts. And if he’s in love with me, but then he sees you and me together- it was this whole thing about making him see the power of love, you know, ‘cause like-”
She grabs you by your cheeks, pinching your face together, your lips puffing out.
“You can stop rambling, now.” She smiles in a demeaning way, and you would feel insulted if the way she wasn’t gripping your face right now wasn’t addicting. “I actually think it’s a pretty great plan. Surprising, but, whatever.”
You ignore that.
“So, you’ll do it?”
“When are you gonna spell him?”
“As soon as possible, tonight, at the bonfire.”
“Okay,” she nods, thinking to herself. “Come meet me before you do it.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Clarisse La Rue touched your face. Clarisse touched your face, and you really fucking liked it.
—-
The three of you sit by the edge of the bonfire. You locked eyes with Clarisse a few minutes ago, letting her know you’re here.
Tyla fusses with your hair, even though you all spent an hour making everything about you perfect. It would be nice to look hot if you were gonna make him fall in love with you.
You watch as she makes her way towards the bathrooms.
Her golden skin shines in the light of the fire, she adjusts her shirt, and you swear you see her abs just under the orange fabric-
“Clarisse is pretty, isn’t she?” Tyla says. “I mean, I almost wish I was the one fake dating her.”
And she is. She is so painfully pretty.
“I’ll tell you all about it,” you wink.
When you step into the bathroom, Clarisse locks the door behind you. You turn around and she’s there. She looks you up and down. You can’t make out the look on her face.
“You’re really trying to impress him, huh?” she smirks. You ignore that.
The ceiling is low in here, so you walk to the corner and reach up at the loose board. You slide it over, reaching inside and grabbing the small bag.
Aphrodite kid secret- makeup is hidden everywhere around camp.
She stares at you. “Has that always been up there?”
You go to the mirror, taking out the mascara and applying another layer.
“Uh… yeah.”
She leans against the wall next to the mirror, watching you with such an intensity it’s like you’re the one beautiful thing in some bloody war she can’t take her eyes away from.
“We should probably set some ground rules,” you say. She hums. “This will probably only be for a month or so.”
“That’s fine.”
You stare pointedly at yourself in the mirror. You, Jacks and Tyla had dumped almost all of your plates into the offerings fire at lunch, hoping for good luck from Aphrodite. With the way your skin seems to glow, your makeup flawless, it seems she’s pleased by your offerings.
Maybe her and Ares are having a fight up on Olympus, and she’s itching to see him knocked down a peg, however vicariously through someone else.
“Well, you can do whatever you want to me.”
“I- what?” you blink, staring at Clarisse like she just turned into a cyclops.
“You can kiss me, hug me, whatever. I mean, we should really do this if we’re gonna do it. Sell it, or whatever.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you can do whatever too.”
Clarisse can touch you wherever she wants.
You look up discreetly. Please, Mom, you think. Don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue.
It’s fine to admit to yourself that you’d like to jump on top of her, but she’s still an Ares kid. She’s a bully, if you’re being honest. But can you say that you’re not one too after this?
Love can burn down cities, love can start wars, love can end them. Love is always there from the beginning of your life to your beginning. The doctor who delivered you loves their career. The woman who makes flower arrangement for your funeral loves flowers, even if she hates making them for funerals.
Love is always there, and when it’s used as a weapon you know it is one of the deadliest things.
But you’re too deep in this now.
She walks around so she’s standing behind you, adjusting her hair in the mirror.
She puts her hand on your hip. You take a deep breath, you pretend. You pretend so hard it might become real.
She smiles brightly in the mirror. “See you out there, baby.”
—-
You pull your top down. That’s the easiest way to get a man to look at you. Pull your top down. You get a few looks as you move through the tree trunk benches, careful that you don’t accidentally trip, because that would completely fuck up the plan.
There’s a part of you that comes from your mother. The part that some may call vain, but how is it your fault to enjoy the attention that other people are giving you? It’s not your fault they’re looking. It’s not your fault you look like your mother’s daughter.
You walk a little longer, finally setting your eyes on Xavier, sitting across the fire from Clarisse and her group. You eyes meet hers. She pretends to itch her nose, but you can see the laugh she’s hiding. You take one more deep breath, say one more please to your mother.
“Xavier,” you say. “Can I sit?”
He already seems a little shocked that you’re talking to him on purpose, but he quickly recovers and pushes his friend down the trunk.
You sit, your thigh touching his, folding your hands over your legs.
“I just wanted to say, Xavier, that you were right. The other night… the potion would have failed anyways. Thank you so much for ruining it when you did. Who knows what could have happened? It could have exploded everywhere.”
You laugh, putting your hand on his arm. He looks up at you, mouth slightly parted.
You said his name twice and he’s already sucked in.
“Really, Xavier, thank you.” You smile softly, looking at his lips before back up to his eyes.
His hand lands on your knee.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
You watch Jackie walk by. He doesn’t hear her whisper. But you see it in his eyes.
You pretend to blush, brushing your hand down his arm before it lands back in your own lap. He leans in closer, until his lips are brushing your ear.
“Why don’t I give you some more things to be thankful for?”
Tyla walks by. He doesn’t hear her whisper either.
“Oh, I should really get back to Clarisse. Sorry, Xavier,”
His hand tightens on your knee and he pulls back.
“C-Clarisse? What would you be doing with her?”
You feign innocence. “Well, she’s my girlfriend. I do a lot of things with her,” you giggle. “I just wanted to thank you, but I should get going. Bye, Xavier!”
You blow him a kiss as you stand up, and you can practically see the hearts in his eyes right along with the blazing rage. You can feel him stare as you walk away, hips swaying.
Clarisse is still trying to hide her laugh when you start walking over to her. The tree trunk around her is all full of people, and a few more are even on the ground.
You stand in front of her, smiling softly.
“Are you not gonna let your girlfriend sit down?”
“Of course I am.”
She leans back and pats her knee. She draws you forward by wrapping her big hand around your hip. When you sit down, she rests her hand flat against your stomach, pressing you right to her. Her other hand rests on your thigh.
Please, Mom, don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue. Don’t let me like her touching me like this.
Everyone is staring.
It’s exhilarating.
You twist your face into something serious, trying not to break out into a fit of embarrassing giggles.
Her breath tickles your neck.
“I gotta admit, you little witch, that was impressive.”
You smile and place your hand over hers.
“I know.”
—-
The day after the bonfire, everybody at camp is talking about you and Clarisse.
How long have they been dating? Why did they decide to become public now? I swear I saw Y/N and Xavier getting close, though, what happened?
You’ve been trying not to break out laughing all morning. During breakfast you blew Clarisse a kiss and heard one of your siblings gasp dramatically and mumble about how sweet young love is.
Jackie and Tyla made paper hearts for you during arts n’ crafts, talking loudly about how you were such a lovesick little thing. You know Xavier heard about all of those things, because he stares at you every chance he gets and glares at Clarisse at the same time.
You keep exchanging subtle glances with her, small smiles, secrets in between your gazes. It’s nice to have something like this.
After dinner, the two of you go to the woods to pretend like you’re having a secret date. Clarisse brings her spear and you bring a blanket.
You’ve been laying there comfortably for a while, arms under your head like a pillow.
“I wanna know how you did it,” she says, turning her spear in her hands. You open one eye to look at her.
“I say his name a bunch of times. With, like, a lot of intention. Then Jackie and Tyla came by and whispered “you’re in love with the girl in front of you” and other stuff like that. It’s hard to explain. It’s just, like, this power.”
“I was imagining, like, one of those mortal movies, you know? A potion, or something.”
“Oh, we’re trying that too. Medea used her amokinesis in the form of potions and spelled objects, so me, Jackie, and Tyla have been talking to Aster, who’s a child of Hecate, and we tried to make a truth potion.” You laugh, thinking of that night. “That’s why we’re doing this, actually. Xavier found us and stuck his gum in it, so… completely ruined. We have to wait for the next full moon and get all the ingredients. It sucks, whatever, I guess.”
She listened intently the entire time you were talking. Aphrodite kids are always jumping from one thing to another. Clarisse is so focused and single-minded. It feels good to be the center of just one person’s attention. Not having people look at you, but just one person look at you.
“Every time I see him I think about stabbing him 20 times. Now I’ll think about sticking gum in his ear, too.” She turns to you and smiles.
None of that stupid smirking shit she always does, or those over-exaggerated demeaning smiles, she really smiles at you.
Her smile is really pretty.
You laugh along with her after a second.
“I would love to see that,” you murmur, propping yourself up on your forearms. “What really made you agree to do this? I mean, I know you guys surface level hate each other but, come on, I was just rambling and you were all ‘let’s do it’.”
“I hate him,” she shrugs. “Why do you care, anyways? You got what you wanted. Enjoy my beautiful self while it lasts.”
“Yeah, okay,” you chuckle.
You don’t leave until the stars come out.
—-
The second day after the bonfire, Clarisse invites you to sit with her at lunch. Usually, you’re supposed to stay at your cabin tables, but Chiron is busy all day and no one would snitch on Clarisse.
You walk over with your tray in hand, watching as she whispers something to her siblings. You smile at them before she pats the seat next to her.
“Hey,” the boy next to you greets. “I’m Matty.”
He points to the girl across from him. “That’s Marjorie,” he points to the other boy with dark skin across from Clarisse, “That’s Daniel,” and finally your eyes land on the blonde girl sitting across from you.
“I’m Sarah,” she smiles. She seems nice, at least. So does Matty. The rest just seem sort of standoffish. There’s a scuffle under the table, then Daniel glares at Clarisse.
“Hi, Y/N,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”
Matty is sickly sweet nice, handsome too, and you almost wonder if he’s really a child of Ares. But he’s got that same focus like Clarisse.
He asks you questions and listens to your answers.
He had the bad stroke of fate in accidentally getting you going about your experiments in potions and amokinesis, and you find yourself shuffling closer to him.
“Sorry,” you laugh. “I’ll stop torturing you now.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I love a passionate person.”
You weren’t sure if he meant that to be flirting.
Usually you’re good at picking up these things, all Aphrodite kids have a knack for it, but you think he’s just really nice.
You stare at him, tilting your head to the side when Clarisse suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you closer to her. Her breath tickles your neck, just like the bonfire.
“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, not his,” she whispers, her chin resting against your shoulder.
You roll your eyes. “Am I not allowed to have a conversation?”
“Not when he’s looking.” You spare a quick glance. Xavier is looking at you, a mix between glaring and starting longingly.
“He looks like a cross-eyed dog,” you giggle.
And to your surprise, Clarisse presses her face into your shoulder to muffle her laugh.
—-
All the time you spend with Clarisse is like some stupid board game you play with Tyla and Jackie when there’s nothing else to do. Jenga. That one where you crack the ice and try not to make the polar ball fall.
The games where you chip it away slowly, one by one, wondering if this time will be the time that it falls, if you’ll be the one to lose the game.
You push a little more each time with Clarisse. Each conversation, you learn a little more, you chip away a few of her walls.
It’s addicting to open her up slowly, to get to know her like this. And when it’s just you and her alone, when Xavier isn’t around to torture, you swear it doesn’t feel fake.
—-
The eighth day after the bonfire, you skip arts n’ crafts to follow Clarisse to the archery range.
While the Apollo kids have all that effortless, natural skill with archery, Ares kids are still deadly. You faintly remember seeing Clarisse shoot once. Even though it’s not her weapon of choice, her aim was deadly and she didn’t miss one shot.
You’re okay with a bow.
Clarisse sees the perfect opportunity to flaunt in front of Xavier.
As soon as you crest the hill, your eyes find his, and he beelines towards you.
“Y/N, sweetheart, what can I do for you?”
It’s easy to switch on that stereotypical persona. You twist your fingers into your shirt.
“Yeah, can you help me?” you look up at him, trying to be as disgustingly sweet as you can,
“What’d you need?” he takes a step closer, about to cage you in between him and the cart full of bows and arrows.
“Can you help me pick out a bow? I don’t know what one would be right for me, I don’t know anything about archery. Please?”
He reaches past you, coming close so your back hits the wooden cart. You can’t help the way your eyes widen. He’s bold, you’ll give him that. Everyone reacts differently under the spell, but their true personalities still shine through.
He picks one up, running his hand up and down the curved wood. He plucks at the string, nodding to himself.
“This one’s fit for a lady.”
You take it, fingertips brushing his. “Oh, thank you so much, Xavier.” You give him a small side hug as you run past him, eager to get away from him.
You just need to find Clarisse.
“Hey, don’t you need some help shooting?” you glance over your shoulder, watching him advance.
Where the hell is Clarisse?
You’re about to say you’re fine when you suddenly slide into someone’s arms. You would have slammed into her, if not for the way Clarisse softly reached out to touch your arm, and Gods, you recognize the feel of her skin.
You knew she was there and you gratefully walked forward, your chests touching, her arm around your shoulders.
“I’ll take it from here, Xavier.”
You look up at her. She’s smiling in that same demeaning way.
You’ve grown to like it.
He doesn’t say anything else. You hear him stomp off.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. When you open your eyes after a moment, you realize how close you are.
You’re so close it’s just one move and that’s it. One move and you both know that’ll change it all.
You think she just worked out. You can feel the muscles of her arm against you, you can see the sweat on her hairline, you can see her breathing heavily.
You could just press your ear to her chest and feel everything.
The way her brown eyes reflect the sunshine is mesmerizing. You’ve been looking at her for so long, but it’s like you’re looking into the surface of a lake you swear you recognize, slightly green murky waters, but there was a whole world under the surface if you cared to look.
But you didn’t care to look for the Clarisse under the surface. You don’t care. You don’t want to.
She clears her throat and let’s go of you.
You back up.
“Put that thing down, he probably fucking poisoned it.”
You turn the bow in your hands, but when you look up, she’s already walking towards the far end of the field.
“Wait, wait, what am I gonna use then?”
“Mine, obviously.” You drop the bow.
—-
After taking a few deep breaths, and Clarisse going over the basics again, you filled your mind with images of a bow and arrow and not of her eyes. Not of her lips.
Clarisse La Rue hates Aphrodite kids too, just not as much as Xavier, and not enough to resist revenge.
You focus on that. That’s why you’re here. Revenge.
Revenge for every fucked up thing he’s said, revenge for every time he’s come too hard at you during capture the flag, revenge for all of your siblings and everyone he’s ever tortured.
“Ok, there, that’s a good stance.” She’s raking her eyes up and down your body. But you’re here for revenge. She glanced over her shoulder. “Except for…”
She presses her body to yours from behind, molding against you like she was made to protect you like this, her hand covering yours, her stance just a little wider. She glides her hand across your arm.
“Up, up, just a little.” She’s whispering right into your ear. You let her hands guide you. Your mouth feels dry. “Then let go.”
And how badly you want to let go. You want to let go of these feelings rolling around in your stomach like stones, you want to let go and let them become butterflies and fall into Clarisse.
You prayed to your mother not to fall in love with her, but maybe you should trust your mom. Maybe you should let go.
But you don’t.
You let go of the arrow instead, you keep your tumbling feelings inside, and to your shock you only hit a few inches from the bullseye.
The bow swings in your hand.
“Holy shit. Did I- did I just do that?”
Clarisse laughs. “You did, baby.”
You turn around and throw your arms around her neck, smiling wide and laughing hysterically. The bow was the one weapon you thought you could never master, and here you are after one lesson with Clarisse.
She wraps her arms around your waist, and even though you’ve hugged like this a million times, you both know it’s different this time. And you both ignore it.
But for one second, you’re pretending so hard it’s almost real. It’s almost a real date.
—-
On the ninth day, it all goes to shit.
Sword practice is held just after lunch, when the sun is still high in the sky. The Ares and Aphrodite cabins share the field first, and you, Jackie and Tyla take your time stretching to enjoy the show.
Tyla has to turn around to hide her laugh as you bend over slowly, making sure Xavier is watching, then when you face comes up flushed you smile at him. He smiles back.
You wave to Clarisse and he glares at her.
Jackie says it will take him 5 minutes to ask her to spar. Tyla says 5 too. You say it’ll take him maybe 3 minutes.
He spars with one person, a two minute match, then marched right up to Clarisse.
“How about we go, huh? Want another chance to try and beat me?”
Clarisse was smiling before he walked over, talking to her friends. Her smile fades and is replaced by the dark mask of pure focus.
“I’d love to beat you, Xavier.”
She walks past you to grab a sword from the rack.
Her eyes meet yours. You reach out and put your hand on her face, softly pressing her lips against yours. It’s a peck. It’s barely there. At least now you can check off a box and say you’ve kissed Clarisse La Rue.
She seems so shocked that you’ve actually kissed her you swear she loses her footing for a second. You swear her cheeks are a little flushed. By she stands up taller and ignores it, just like you’ve both been doing for so long.
“Good luck, baby!” you call as she walks off to the circle marked off for sparring.
Xavier looks like he’s about to light the grass on fire.
“She’s gonna beat his ass,” Jackie whispers.
“If he loses, do you think I should comfort him after?”
“Oh, Gods, yes,” Tyla smiles. “That’s so mean. We’re so mean.” It feels too good to stop.
Kissing Clarisse almost felt too good to stop. Even that second, one more longer and you would have been sucked in. You decide not to kiss her for however long this goes on.
Once you start kissing her, you’re scared you’ll never stop.
Revenge feels to good, and you need this.
As soon as they face each other Xavier springs out with a million offensive attacks, slightly sloppy- you can see his anger. Everyone knows you can’t let your emotion get in the way of battle.
Clarisse is calm and counters all his attacks. She even smiles, which makes your stomach flip in a way that isn’t fake.
Her sword flicks along his cheek. It’s a paper cut, barely.
“Oh no,” Clarisse fake frets. “You need me to walk you to the nurse?”
He grunts and launches an attack that’s just plain stupid. It’s messy. He swings too wide. She knocks his sword out of his hand.
He goes to dive for it but her sword is already at his neck.
He breathes heavily, staring at her, and it’s suddenly dead quiet. No more talking, no more swords clanging.
Your eyes are flicking in between them like a ball bouncing up and down. But they linger on Clarisse. Of course they linger on Clarisse.
It’s so quiet you swear you can hear her heartbeat.
“Daddy’s behind you,” he whispers.
She whips around, taking her sword with her, but no one is there. Of course no one is there.
Xavier runs away laughing, and Clarisse turns around. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s gripping the hand of the sword so tight you’re surprised it hasn’t broken off.
Clarisse is not your girlfriend. Clarisse is not even your friend.
But she’s someone, she’s someone to you, and you can’t stand to see her like this.
You walk forward and put your hand on her wrist, taking the sword from her. You’re not even in control of your arms and legs.
She stares pointedly at the distance.
“Let’s go,” you whisper, giving her no choice and pulling her along. You throw the sword at the rack.
—-
You end up in Clarisse’s cabin, door clicking shut behind you as you press your back to it. She stays silent for a moment, until she screams and throws someone’s pillow at the wall. You don’t say anything.
You don’t say anything but you follow her to her bed.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, watching as she sits down, fists clenched so tight you hope she isn’t bleeding. “I’m so sorry, Clarisse.”
“You weren’t the one who fell for it. You weren’t the one who fell for that stupid, stupid, childish trick. I did.”
“You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for us and our plan. If it wasn’t for me.”
You sit down on the bed next to hers.
“Why are you even here? We’re not actually dating, dummy. You can go.”
“I know,” you murmur. You know. You know you aren’t dating. You know you shouldn’t be here. “But you’re still something, Clarisse.”
She slips off her armor.
“I’m not something to you.”
She wants someone else to hurt like she does. She wants someone else to take the fall, to be embarrassed and the center of everyone’s attention so she doesn’t have to.
“I’ll never be something to you, Y/N, just- just go away. This is over, I’m not doing it anymore.”
“Yeah, okay,” you mutter. There’s something wet in your eyes and your throat tightens up. “That’s fine.”
You leave silently and you cry in the woods.
—-
When you finally make your way back to your cabin at nightfall, everyone is fussing around you. Your hair’s messy, mascara streams down your face, your shirt is wet with tears.
“Where have you been?” one of your brothers asks, and the rest of your siblings echo the sentiment.
Tyla doesn’t say anything when she sees you. She just wraps her arms around you. Jackie stands just behind her, eyes locking with yours. She knows. She doesn’t move. She can see it on your face, she can see it in your eyes.
Aphrodite children are predisposed to fall in love fast and hard. You’ve all gathered around your siblings time and time again when their hearts inevitably got broken.
No one wants to date an Aphrodite kid. Not really.
They all think you’re vain and self-centered. They all think you’re weak and useless.
When it comes down to it, that’s what you are.
How can you claim to wield the power of love when it brings you to your knees too?
You thought Clarisse was hot. You thought you could leave it at that. You thought you could pretend, you thought you could ignore it.
But the more you think about it, the more tears fall down your face, the more you realize you were ignoring the wrong thing. You spent so much time trying not to want Clarisse you forgot that she doesn’t even want you. It stings, like a knife in the chest, it hurts to know you’re making it all up.
But it was always pretend. It was always fake. That’s what fake dating is. The Aphrodite side of you just forgot that you couldn’t find comfort in her arms, you couldn’t memorize the feel of her skin, you couldn’t hear the sound of her heartbeat and pretended it beat for you.
You look up at the sky and you want to curse your mother. You want to know why she has abandoned you. But in your heart, you know she hasn’t abandoned you. The Goddess of Love is right next to you, and this is what it feels like.
Knives in your heart. Memories of heartbeats, memories of skin, memories of soft voices and secrets and the feeling that something was yours, something was quiet and shared.
“Y/N,” Jackie breathes.
The words hurt. You say them anyways.
“I fucked up,” you sob. “I fucked up, Jackie. She doesn’t- she won’t, she never will-”
“Y/N,” Tyla coos.
“I fell in love. I fell in love, and it’s over.”
—-
You give up on wearing makeup. The sadness still seeps through your face, and you end up crying most of it off anyways. A few of your hoodies are just permanently stained with mascara with how much you cried. The tears stream down your face and carry the little black specks with it.
You try to visualize everything you feel leaving with the black specks. The love, the anger, the sadness, the regret. But it doesn’t leave, and you’re too tired of trying to hide from it.
Everyone thinks you miserably broke up, and it’s mortifying to know that Clarisse knows you’re like this, she knows you’re absolutely ruined over this- and it was never even real.
You keep telling yourself that. It was fake. It was never real.
But it feels real, the memories feel real. You know they happened, you know Clarisse touched you so often it’s like you’re burned with it. You say she had to have felt it to, because the more you remember the more you remember the electricity, the charge in the air.
But you might just be making that up.
Lunch is the worst time. She’s always so happy at lunch, her and her table laughing loudly. She mentioned to you once, one of those fake star-studded dates in the woods, that she’s always to tired by dinner time because she trains so hard for most of the day.
You stare at her when no one’s looking, and everyone can see you better in the bright light of day- and you can’t look away.
Tyla mumbles that they’re gonna get up to make their offerings, she doesn’t ask if you’re gonna come. You’re probably not even going to eat more than a few bites again.
You’re alone at the stone table.
Xavier sees that as an opportunity.
Love spells are best to break on a full moon. You thought it would go on longer than this, and he’s only become more emboldened by what everyone sees as a breakup.
He sits down next to you, smiling sadly. You prop your head up in your hand.
“Y/N, you sad angel.” His hand grazes your shoulder, you can’t be bothered to tell him to stop. He places a flower in front of you. “To cheer you up.”
“Thanks, Xavier,” you mutter. He stares at you for a moment longer. Jackie comes back, slamming her tray down onto the table.
“Go away, Xavier,” she says, the same thing she says every day. Jackie has this look in her eyes that lets you know she’s ready to jump on you if she has to.
You think he would stop trying, but he can’t. He can’t because of this stupid love spell that ruined everything. And you can’t even take it off of him, not until the full moon.
You wouldn’t feel like this if it wasn’t for that love spell.
—-
There is one a day a year that Chiron turns a blind eye to parties. The summer solstice all of the cabin leaders come together to throw a huge party, mostly centered around the bonfire, food and drinks and even music. It’s the one night a year where you’re allowed to be teenagers, and it’s not taken lightly.
It even makes you feel a little excited.
“So what if all that shit happened?” Tyla asked. “We’re gonna make sure you look as hell at this party, and then you’re gonna go find someone and make out with them in a dark corner. Don’t even look who it is. Just grab the first random person and kiss them.”
“Okay, well, I’m not doing that, but I will do something of the sort. There is definitively some making out on my list tonight.”
“Oh, as long as it’s not with Xavier,” Tyla frets.
Jackie kicks her. “If Y/N makes out with Xavier, I will personally pay Chiron a million dollars to feed both of them to some horrible monster.”
“Supportive,” you muse.
Jackie gasps. “I forgot about this dress.”
“For which one of us?” Tyla asks.
Jackie turns around, holding up the back dress. It’s sparkly, a slit up the side, going just to your knees. It’s ruffled at the chest, thin spaghetti straps for the top. You can’t wear it. It’s too much, too revealing.
You look around the room.
Most of your siblings are wearing worse.
And you need to get your mind off her.
“I’m wearing that.”
Tyla squeals and Jackie lays it out on your bed.
You’ll forget about her tonight, you promise yourself.
—-
The bonfire burns high and bright, and even 20 feet away from it the feeling is burning. It’s so hot you’re glad you wore this barely there grass, it frees up your skin to touch the cool summer air.
You, Tyla and Jackie had gratefully taken a few too many sips of the alcohol someone had managed to sneak in and was now passing around.
Everything is so funny in the firelight.
Tyla’s tall heels keep sinking into the grass, and you keep giggling when your own do the same. You’re all holding onto each other, barely able to stand.
There was more nail polish fumes in the cabin than usual, and you’ll swear on your life that it gets to your head.
“Noooooo,” Tyla moans, sinking yet again into the grass. She gasps, pointing at the logs currently abandoned. “I’ll just walk on those!”
Your heels sink into the dirt.
“Me too,” you say, smiling as you grab Tyla’s hand and begin your ascent. Jackie ran off with an Apollo boy a minute ago, the first of your group to leave.
You grab onto each other, laughing boisterously as you keep almost falling.
“I-I can bare-barely stand!” you shout, giggling as you throw your arms to the sides.
“Me either!” Tyla shouts back. She jumps off, walking between the end of that one to the beginning of the next log.
“Hey, do you think I can jump and make it?”
Tyla judges the maybe 4 foot jump.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m gonna try,” you giggle. “I’m gonna jump!”
“Whoooo!” Tyla shouts, laughing too. This entire night is just about you and your friends and laughter. She starts clapping. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,”
You jump, eyes screwed shut, slamming into something mid air and being brought to the ground.
“Wh-” you mumble, and Tyla let’s out a gasp.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Clarisse scolds, her hands quickly falling from your waist.
And, of course, the first instinct of your intoxicated brain is to start screaming.
Clarisse grabs your arm and drags you off, past the light of the fire and into a space between the cabins. She slaps her hand over your mouth and you shut up.
“Are you going to stop being such a baby now?”
She lets go of your face and you immediately stumble forward so she has to catch you, pressing your finger into her chest.
“You, demon, are not my mother! So, I don’t know what you’re doing.”
She laughs, holding you up.
“Oh, you’re drunk.”
“Tipsy,” you correct. “As I was saying, don’t you remember, Clarisse, we will never be something to each other.” You push her away from you, heels sinking into the ground and keeping you upright.
Her face falls.
It’s so dark in here but you’re so close to her you can tell.
“Y/N, I-”
You can’t listen to her talk so softly. Being away from the heat of the fire clears up your brain.
“Where’s Tyla?” her hands fall from your hips. “Tyla?!” you dig you heels out of the mud, finding her sitting on the log, talking animatedly to Matty about something. “Oh,” you mumble.
They’re both so absorbed in each other they don’t hear you. And suddenly, you’re the last one left.
You head to a nearby table and chug a bottle of water, shoving a cupcake into your mouth.
“I’m not gonna be alone tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You look up at the almost full moon. You eyes scan the crowd. Xavier isn’t exactly bad looking, and you just need someone tonight. You need anything.
You don’t know where Clarisse is. You tell yourself you don’t care.
You move through the crowd, adjusting your hair, breathing in and out. You won’t be alone tonight. You won’t.
You spot him sitting off to the side with his friends, the group of them sharing a bottle just like you did.
“Xavier!” you shout. His eyes turn to you immediately. He shoves the bottle into his friends hands, standing up and walking over to you like it was his entire purpose to.
“Y/N,” he eyes you up and down. “You look- you look fucking hot.”
“Thank you. Now, dance with me.”
He follows you, his arm gripped in your hand, you can feel him staring at your ass and you don’t care, dragging him towards the music, towards the dance floor.
His hand is all over your ass, your thigh, your hips, drawing you closer to him as you spin and his other winds it’s way around your face.
He’s not her. You can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about imagining her hands on you.
You put your arms around his neck, dancing in a way that would probably make your mother blush.
When you open your eyes, they’re locked with hers.
She seems to have made her way back to her friends, sitting on a log, leaning against her arm and staring at you. Her hands are clenched the same way they were that day. You can see her, you can see her perfectly and she can see you perfectly. She can see you and him.
Good.
You smile at her, waving the way you would have done to Xavier, except now the roles are reversed. He gets to have you, and she has to watch.
His mouth finds your neck. You laugh, throwing your head back, you don’t imagine her lips there. You just sink into the moment.
When your lips crash against his, there’s nothing except hot, hot desire. Like a blue flame, you’re all teeth and tongue, clashing together in a way that is purely carnal.
His hands are everywhere and you love it. It’s like a game, trying to guess where he’ll go next, and it keeps you so wonderfully distracted.
He tugs at the slit of your dress. You pull away for air.
“N-not here. Not yet.”
His greedy hand remains where it is until you shove it down, laughing lightly.
“Maybe later,” you whisper.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your neck. “Just let me…” he spins you two around, his hand slips under your dress, against your bare ass.
“Xavier-” you push at his greedy hand again.
“So, so beautiful, like you’re a witch-”
He’s ripped away from you.
You watch in horror as Clarisse grabs him by the front of his shirt and punches him square in the face.
You start screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs.
Xavier only seems to find it funny.
“You fuckin’ jealous, Clarisse?” he laughs. “Fuckin’ jealous, wonder if he’d be proud of you now, beating up his own son for a daughter of Aphrodite?”
She punches him again. Again.
“Fuckin’ jealous?” he says again, laughing, spitting out blood. “Are you fucking jealous?”
One of her siblings finally grabs her and pulls her away. She shoves them off of her.
“I’ll kill you,” she whispers to him. He doesn’t seem scared at all. You stand there and watch, stupidly, feeling like a bird from the skies watching it all unfold, unable to do anything. “Stay away from her. Stay the fuck away from her.”
She looks at you, you faintly realize the music’s stopped.
“Clarisse-”
“She’s not yours!” Xavier laughs from the ground. “The weak Aphrodite girl doesn’t belong to you, that’s gotta sting, Clarisse-”
A love spell only change’s one’s emotions towards a person. Their personalities are the same. They way they behave under a love spell is the same way they’d behave in a regular relationship, except with a lasting relentlessness.
“Shut up, Xavier!” you shout. You’re so sick of him. Sick of his bullshit. He can’t even make out with you without thinking about the next step.
You see it fade from his eyes.
It shouldn’t be.
You watch in horror as the spell falls, you realize this all wasn’t supposed to happen. You were never supposed to actually kiss him.
“Witch,” he mumbles. He was just moaning that against your cheek a minute ago.
He holds his hands to his already red face.
“You’re a fucking witch.”
Everyone is looking at you, for once in your life, you hate it.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whisper.
Your eyes meet Clarisse’s. You can’t tell what’s on her face. You walk away.
—-
She finds you under the stars. Of course she does. You didn’t know where else to go. Cabin too stuffy. The lake is too far. The only place left is the woods, the spots where you would go with her.
She stands behind you. You can hear her breathing.
“Do you need something?” you mutter.
“I was selfish,” she starts.
You snort. Clarisse La Rue is a lot of things, you’ll be here all night.
“And I was hurt. So I took it out on you, which I really, really regret. You didn’t deserve that and it wasn’t true.”
It wasn’t true.
“Um, I was scared. So I made a decision for the both of us. But I’m not scared anymore.”
You place your hand on the grass next to you.
She sits, you don’t look at each other.
“That was all I had planned, but more has happened, so… uh, I was watching you the entire night, I guess. Not in a creepy way. I mean, you look, that dress… I couldn’t take my eyes away. Then you almost killed yourself on the logs.”
You smile.
“And I touched you again and I just, it was so much. Then you were on the dance floor, and he was all over you and- I was jealous. I was so jealous, like, I was actually about to go insane. And I saw you push his hand away, I saw him do it again, and I…”
“Went insane, berserk, crazy? Lost all proprietary?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “All of that. I’m not gonna apologize for punching the shit out of him. But I am sorry for the things I said.”
“Did you mean it?”
She just seems grateful you’re talking to her.
“Mean what?”
“That it wasn’t true.”
“It wasn’t true.”
You finally look at her. It feels so good to let go. To finally look at her, finally see her.
“I-I was just angry, and I-”
You’re sick of hearing her talk.
It’s nothing like the kiss with Xavier.
Its slow and sweet, heady like syrup, and you feel like you’re sinking beneath the current of some river. Your hands are on her face, she rests hers on your neck.
The kiss was Xavier was pure passion, no love, just bodies and bodies and no thoughts between them. This is all care, this is all slowness, this is all appreciation. It’s faces and faces, singular focus, one intent.
You pull away.
“I was so jealous,” she breathes, like it’s an explanation for the way she grabs you closer, harder, more, kissing you like Xavier did except it’s all erased. You can’t even remember what it feels like for someone else to touch you, let alone kiss you.
It just feels like her. It all feels like her, before her and after her.
When she finally starts to kiss down your neck, it’s so slow again, it’s like she can’t believe you’re in her arms, it’s like she can’t believe she’s got your hands on you. You grab her shoulders, you have her.
You look up towards the sky. Sorry I ever doubted you. Thanks, Mom.
You could see her across from you, you could see her on the dance floor, but now you can see her.
—-
y/n, talking to matty: yes i’m like about to slay amokinesis in a way it has never been slayed before
clarisse, who is NOT catching feelings: what the hell is this bitch doing to my girl
clarisse: ykw… im just gonna…. take her back thank you oh wdym no he’s looking we gotta fake date obvi (clarisse does not care if he’s looking)
—-
y/n, about to fucking die: i’m a bird! i’m jumping!
clarisse: no the fuck you’re not!
—-
clarisse when y/n is dancing in THE DRESS: oh i’m bricked up
—-
clarisse: if this bitch doesn’t get OFF my girl i’m gonna KILL SOMEONE
literally everyone: YOUR girl????
clarisse: nvm i’m just gonna fight him
everyone: not a logical solution???
—-
shoutout to jackie, tyla, and matty the loves of my life COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT THEM
also the tyla and matty agenda WILL be pushed
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison
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THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF
on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.
☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo
☆. word count: 6k
☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333
+ here's the masterlist
in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.
when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.
if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.
it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.
but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.
but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.
it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.
don't you want it to stop?
being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.
moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.
the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.
despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.
you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.
pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.
beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.
the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.
standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.
never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.
glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.
a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.
you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.
it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.
you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.
making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!
a pharmacy.
two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.
a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.
the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.
you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.
it is cowering in the corner.
you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.
you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.
quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.
you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.
one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).
yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!
your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.
it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.
ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.
strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.
when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.
the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.
in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.
stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.
no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.
a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.
the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.
heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.
the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.
you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.
the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.
your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.
"don't."
...
your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.
you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.
his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.
"s'rude to steal, y'know."
the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.
"i asked you a question."
shit.
"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.
he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"
the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.
"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.
there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.
and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.
he's... terrifying.
towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.
dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.
the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.
other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.
"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.
"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.
you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.
he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.
"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"
"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.
"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.
your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"
"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.
"sorry."
"what was that?"
just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.
"i didn't even fucking take anything!"
body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.
"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"
you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.
"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."
he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"
"forget it."
"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."
at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"
you nod at him.
"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."
you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.
the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.
you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.
his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.
the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.
"need me to read it for you, old man?"
"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.
a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.
one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.
small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.
scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.
you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.
he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.
he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.
"now... why would you do that-"
you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"
"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.
"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.
"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.
"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"
"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.
...
you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.
"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."
"why?"
"for being my entertainment tonight."
the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.
"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."
"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."
his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.
(you aren't.)
when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.
"are you done?"
you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.
"hey!"
he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.
you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.
it doesn't matter.
you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.
you don't want to end up like her.
"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."
he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.
the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."
"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.
"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."
"fuck you."
he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."
simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.
"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."
when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.
he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.
"why not make a run for it earlier?"
you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"
"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.
"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."
"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"
...
you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"
he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."
"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."
"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"
your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"
"can i have my flashlight back?"
"no."
"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"
"no manners whatsoever."
huh?
your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"
"first, i catch you stealing— "
"i already apologized for that— "
"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.
"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."
...
he barks out a laugh.
a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."
he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."
you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"
he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."
at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"
something sweet.
he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.
you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.
he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.
"don't let me see you again, old man."
playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.
you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.
the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.
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