I Stand By This

i stand by this 🫡🫡

This is one of my hot takes, but like why does the majority of clarisse ff be aphrodite reader, like there are 20 cabins in total and out all them aphrodite gets picked the most. And a good amount of them is just the reader being so pretty, but like y/n can also be pretty from a different cabin. Pls don't take my opinion to harshly, but it's something I noticed for a while, I could explain more in the future, but for now. Thank you for coming to my Tedtalk💜

wooooeeewwww

Happy Wife Happy Life

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

summary: being Clarisse's "wife" will always have it's perks

a/n: honestly don't know how to feel about this but I'm tired. anyway, kinda hate the ending. and my writing lol.

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Love is the greatest thing.

At least, in your eyes it is.

It can bring the strongest people to their knees, risking their lives or others lives just so that they can keep their person happy. It's always been amazing to you.

Not so much in your best friend Clarisse's. She'd much rather have the glory of being the strongest kid in school, or be feared by your classmates. "Love is stupid." She always tells you while she watches you study under the willow tree she likes climbing.

"No, it's not. It's powerful. You like powerful things don't you?" You'd say back with an airy laugh, then forcing her to come back down from the branches so you can help her with her math homework.

She's heard lots about the emotion called jealousy, but she'd never truly felt it until she saw Holly Bracken kiss your cheek during recess one day. The tightening of the chest, the way her throat went dry and she clenched her fist by her side from the other end of the black top and tried to stop herself from throwing the basketball in her hands towards the blonde girl's head. It wasn't a feeling Clarisse liked, and the feeling only went away when you were laying in her arms under the tree after school that day.

That warm afternoon, she'd asked you to marry her with a paper ring, one that you cherished for a whole week until it got caught in something and broke. You'd obviously said yes, the fact that you had a huge crush on her not exactly helping as you forced yourself to remember she was obviously kidding. Sealing the marriage with I do and then placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand like she'd seen done in the romantic movies her mother likes watching, you were officially hers. As long as you were her wife, Holly Bracken could no longer kiss your cheek with that ugly smug smile.

She went on to make sure of that, introducing you as her wife to anyone and everyone that was willingly to listen. You two were young, and nobody took it quite seriously until she saved up almost a full year's allowance money to buy you a nice looking- but still cheap- promise ring from the jewelry store downtown. It was a silent promise, one that she eventually voiced as you were sleeping over at her house.

"I'll be with you forever." She'd whispered in your ear, and you foolishly believed her.

She was gone three weeks later.

You didn't get a phone call, an email, or even a letter. She just....disappeared.

Her family stopped answering the door for you, seemingly purposefully avoiding you in town. It was months before you finally gave up, and it was obvious to anyone that looked hard enough you were slowly becoming a shell of yourself without her. Without your girl.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The only thing in your life that is weirder than Clarisse's mysterious disappearance, was the fact that a boy just told you you're a child of one of the Greek gods. You couldn't believe him. You'd learned about the gods in school, but there was no fudging way they were real. You'd only finally agreed to go to some place called Camp Half Blood when he rolled up one of his pant legs to reveal furry goat legs. Nothing will ever be weirder than that.

Just in time too, because right after you left the school building and started sprinting towards the forest across from the place, some giant winged creature that no one else seemed to see crashed through a window and started flying towards you.

Your protector, someone you learned is a satyr named Joey, lead you to camp with minimal death, which you learned is very rare when it comes to leading a demi-god to camp. It didn't help with the newly installed fear inside you, but you just simply nodded along with what he was saying as your eyes scanned the crowds of campers that are doing their own thing below the hill you stand on.

The moment you step past what Joey calls Thalia's tree, all eyes are on you. A new camper means special events so they feel welcome which means more fun for the campers and the drama of figuring out who their godly parent is. 

You don’t have any belongings other than the clothes on your skin and the school pencil that’s brought you a strange sense of comfort on your long trip. A female camper with blonde hair and gray eyes comes up and introduces herself as Annabeth, helping you to the “Hermes” cabin to give you a camp t-shirt and new pants. She explains all the new campers go there, at least until they get claimed, which means the kids in there are either children of Hermes, unclaimed, or new just like you. 

Since everyone is gone doing daily activities, you decide to just change in the cabin. It’s peaceful, the sound of campers laughter, birds in the trees.

Your blissful silence is broken when someone tightly wraps their arms around you from behind you and lifts you up in the air with a squeal, your hands flying to cover your bra-covered chest. “What the hell?!” You scream, but the profanities you were going to yell out die down in your throat when the person sets you down and you turn around to see Clarisse.

She doesn’t look much different, her hair a little bit grown out and her band t-shirts and jeans have been replaced by camouflage pants and an orange camp half blood shirt similar to the one you’re trying to put on. You’re so starstruck that you just stare, her arms still loosely wrapped around your waist as you stand there in only a bra and jeans. “Clar?” She nods, grinning brightly as she pulls you into yet another hug.

You’re much more aware this time, pushing her away harshly as you hurry to put on the shirt and then leave the cabin with a quick roll of your eyes. The curly haired girl is hot on your tail, attempting to grab your wrist to stop you before you pull it away as if she’s burned you. Her face is full of hurt, but your voice shows the same amount as you ask, “Why didn’t….why didn’t you call? Or email? Or-or send me a fucking letter? Just to let me know you were okay? That you came here.”

She sighs, eyes full of regret as they fall to look at her doc martens so she doesn’t have to see your sadness. “I couldn’t call you because a phone call is like sending a message out to any monsters that could be listening and find out where we are. Email, I don’t have any electronics cuz of the whole call thing.”

“And letter? I bet monsters don’t know how to read Clar.” The girl is silent for a minute, and as the silence continues is when you realize she doesn’t have an answer for you. You scoff, beginning to walk to who knows where again before she runs to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was scared. Gods, I was scared.” The worlds tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and the campers around you fall silent as they stare with mouths agape in shock.

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s just me.” She nods, wordlessly reaching out to hold your hand. You let her this time and she feels relief flood through her. “Scared. I was scared….scared that you would hate me for leaving. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her wife?” She attempts a small laugh, and she takes it as a win that the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in the start of a smile. “I promised you forever and then left without another word. You had been looking at me through rose colored glasses our entire lives, I was scared those glasses were shattered. It’s not an excuse though. I should’ve sent you a letter, told you I was okay and told you how much I missed you.”

A small smile works its way onto your face, but she can still see the sadness in your eyes and she hates it. She hates it when you're sad. “Come here angel.” The girl hesitantly pulls you into her arms, almost crying when you relax into her hold and hug her back before she remembers where you guys are and how many campers are staring in shock at how sweet she’s acting.

“You have to understand that I’m still mad Clar. Even if you were scared, I spent years living in fear you were dead.” You mumble against her shoulder as you grip onto her like she’s going to disappear again if you let go.

The girl nods in agreement, cradling your head to her chest as she glares at the campers in an attempt to get them to leave you two alone. They do it.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse brings you to her cabin, cuddling with you in her bed as she tells you anything and everything that has happened over the past. She’s a child of Ares, and you spend several minutes that it makes sense after the amount of times she threatened other kids by saying she should hang them from the top of the flagpole. 

By dinner time, it’s like no time has passed, and everyone’s eyes are on you as you two walk in with her arm casually placed on your around the back of your waist as she leads you to her table where her siblings are trying not to make fun of her. After a lot of begging and threats, Chiron agreed to let you sit at the Ares table for your first week at camp. “Hey guys.” Her happy tone is a rare one around her by the look on their faces, the smile even rarer as she sits you down next to her spot on the bench. “This is my wife.”

The whole room goes silent, all eyes trained on you as your eyes dart up to stare at her. “What are you-” She cuts you off with amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

“What do you want to eat, honey?” Clarisse asks you, and a son of Ares you know as Mark scoffs before he says, “The last time I asked you to get me food, you poured your drink in my lap and told me it wasn’t your job.”

The smile falls from your friend's face as she glares at him. “That’s because it isn’t my job.”

“Then why are you getting her food?” 

“Because a happy wife equals a happy life alright? Now shut the fuck up.”

The smile is back as she turns to face you again, taking your order before she leaves to get that and her own food. 

The rest of the campers go back to their meals, though they’re clearly gossiping about Clarisse’s supposed wife as they eat. It doesn’t make you feel very happy, but all the doubt is gone as your girl comes back and sits down next to you, setting the food down before her hand falls to hold your hand under the table the way she used to during lunch at school.

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A little bit later, you finish eating and join in the group of campers leaving the dining hall towards the campfire with Clarisse walking beside you. “My legs hurt.” You mumble while leaning closer to her. She doesn’t miss a beat as she picks you up bridal style, casually carrying you to the bonfire like you weigh absolutely nothing. Smiling at the sound of your laughter, she sets you down on one of the logs surrounding the fire. “What was that for? I could’ve walked.” You say as she sits down next to you before pulling you into her lap.

“What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around while in pain?” She grins before leaning her head on your shoulder. She seems happy, and you recently learned she hasn’t felt that way in a very long time so you simply smile before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers lace with yours, her thumb caressing the back of your hand as she talks to her brother. It’s like no time has passed. Although you’re still upset, it’s nice to have her again.

Clarisse makes you guys some smores, a few people coming up every once and a while to introduce themselves and your friend introduces you the same way every time; “This is my wife.” By the time you’re making your way to the Hermes cabin with her walking by your side like a bodyguard, everyone in camp is aware of the “marriage”.

“I wish you could come stay in the Ares cabin.” She mumbles into the crook of your neck on the porch of Hermes cabin, and you chuckle while rubbing circles on her back. “I think you annoyed Chiron enough for one day.”

The daughter of Ares sighs, reluctantly nodding as she gives you a gentle squeeze before walking away. You watch her walk to her cabin for a few seconds, a permanent smile on your face before you walk inside your crowded cabin.

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The next morning, it’s time for you to join in the routine of chores and training. It seems tiring, but Clarisse is by your side to help you with anything and everything so it’s okay.

“You’re getting better, hon.” She repeats for the 100th time in an hour, and your trust in her words is slowly fading as you sling the sword in your hands awkwardly towards the dummy covered in greek armor in front of you. The girl seems to notice your mood dropping, so she sighs and then stands up and walks towards you. You think she’s going to tell you to take the armor off just stop trying, but you shouldn't have. Clarisse was never one to tell you to give up on something. Instead, she places her hands on your hips, brown eyes straying from your face as she gently moves your body until you're standing in the correct way. You feel like clay under her grip, simply allowing her to position you as your face scans her features. 

It’s like something pulling you to lean in, and it’s only when you're inches away from her face do you realize she is leaning in too. As if realizing where you are and what you guys are doing, she clears her throat and backs away, her hands following to rest at her sides. “There. Try again.” She begins to awkwardly walk away, her confidence gone as she almost trips over some armor left on the floor by another camper.

You nervously laugh, taking a deep breath before you slash the sword forward again. The sword feels much more natural in your hand, and it’s almost like an instinct as you angle it so it hits the unprotected parts so it cuts open the material. 

Your friend cheers, rushing over to you and easily lifting you off the ground like you just won the olympics. Clarisse has always been that way, proud of every thing  you could ever do. With a small laugh, you thank her and finally get her to set you down. “Well done wifey.” The words flow out of Clarisse’s mouth like they’re the most natural thing, and you fake an annoyed sigh.

“You know I’m not your wife right?” You say with a laugh, but she clearly doesn’t find it very funny.

“Then what's this?” Her hand moves to grab your hand, holding it up in front of your face and you try to ignore the way butterflies explode in your stomach from the touch as her eyes lock on yours. With rose colored cheeks- you decide to blame it on the heat and not the feeling of her hand in yours- you finally take notice of what she’s talking about; the ring she bought you when you were kids, snuggly placed on your left hand ring finger. It was a bit too big when you guys were younger, but it fits basically perfectly now.

“It’s a promise ring.” You mumble, walking away to take off the armor and put away the sword. “It’s the closest thing to a wedding ring I could get. And besides, red is my favorite color, the jem is red. It’s basically me, in a ring.” “I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”

Clarisse sighs, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind the same way she did your first day at camp- though this time she doesn’t lift you up. “Sorry. Let me summarize. You’re my wife, and that is your ring.” You chuckle, turning around in her arms and trying not to think about the way you’re so close you can feel her warm breath on your face. “Fine. I’m your wife.” She takes the win, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before she makes her way out of the training grounds to go wash up for lunch.

This girl is gonna be the death of you.

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That night, Clarisse sneaks into the Hermes cabin. She’s used to sneaking out, but she’s never had a reason to sneak into this specific cabin and she almost bursts out laughing when she gets through the window and almost steps on a kid laying on a sleeping bag on the floor. 

She easily manages her way through the sleeping kids to get to your bunk in the corner, cringing every once and a while when floor boards creek. You’re awake, staring at the wall and you reach under your pillow to grab a dagger Annabeth gave you when someone puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to shake you away so you can hold it up against their neck.

“Why the hell do you have a knife to my throat?” Clarisse quietly squeaks out, and you sigh in relief before putting the weapon back under your pillow for safe keeping. “I just…I’m sorry.” You think about telling her about the nightmare you were having not even ten minutes ago, but it looks like she’s already aware of it as she sends you knowing eyes.

“You can make it up to me by following me.” One look into her pleading eyes is all you need to reluctantly agree, and she helps you out of the window and then onto her back so she can carry you to the surprise she set up in the forest.

The sight makes you want to grin and cry at the same time; it’s a picnic set on the cliff overlooking the waterfall you told her was your favorite part of camp, all your favorite foods from the outside world placed accordingly on the blanket. There are little lanterns placed all over, lighting up this specific part of the woods. You can clearly see the stars, one of your favorite things, and the cozy feeling of the date-like setting goes against the summer breeze of the night.

“So? What do you think?” Clarisse nervously asks as you look around in awe. “I….I love it Clar.” You reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “How’d you get all these foods?” You quest with a grin. She innocently shrugs, but she’s got a mischievous look in her eyes that only appears when she does something bad. She won’t tell you that she snuck out of camp the same way she snuck out of her cabin to go to the mortal world, sneaking back in a throwing herself into a bush when Mr. D almost caught her.

She sits down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her and then pulling you into her lap when you sit down. “This is so nice….but why?” “Why?” “Why’d you do it?”

Clarisse chuckles; “Because my wife deserves best.” There it is again, the phrase that brings a blush to your face no matter how many times you hear it. “Well, thank you.” She nods, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a hesitant bite before humming in satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

You two spend the rest of the night talking and giggling as you cuddle up to her and eat the delicious foods, and by the end of the night you’re lying with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair. “One day,” She starts, leaning down to kiss your forehead before she continues speaking; “I’m gonna marry you for real.”

With a small laugh, you nod, staring into her brown eyes as you sigh. “I’m okay with that.” You whisper, and for a second it seems like she’s leaning down again. It’s proven she is when her lips connect with yours. Her lips are slightly chapped since she always forgets to put on chapstick before she leaves the cabin, but that doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you like she’s been starved for years. Technically, she has been.

She pulls away, watching with a nervous smile as you attempt to catch your breath and stare up at her in awe. “Was that-was that okay?” You slowly nod, sitting up and then turning to face her before you grab her face in your hands and kiss her once again. She seems surprised, but she quickly adapts as her hands move to your hips and firmly grip them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you agreed to be my wife.” She whispers as she pulls away and leans her forehead on your own. You giggle, giving her a quick kiss in between love sick giggles. “Me too.”

She begins to talk again, but the sound of hooves galloping near and a loud voice calling out, “Who's there?!” makes her panic. Chiron. You panic as well, and you both messily pick up the empty plates and blanket, shoving it all in the basket and taking your hand in the one that isn't holding the basket.

The galloping is getting closer, and you both begin to run back into the forest- on the way back to camp but still in the opposite direction of Chiron.

You both begin to laugh as you almost trip over a branch, and you have to bite your lip and hold a hand over Clarrise's mouth so Chiron won't hear. 

You eventually make it back to the cabins, and you both slow down to a light jog as you near the Hermes cabin. She brings you back to the still open window, and helps lift you up into the slightly cold room. You take off your shoes, and are about to wish her a goodnight and go to bed when you turn around to see her lips playfully puckered. 

You chuckle, walking back to the window and giving her a small peck on the lips. “Goodnight Clar. and thank you for a wonderful night.” She smiles. “It was only wonderful because you were there. Goodnight angel.” With that, she leaves towards her own cabin, and you're left staring at her leave with a love sick smile and look in your eyes.

At the edge of the forest, Chiron watches the sweet goodnight with a small smile. “Well I'll be damned….Clarisse La Rue is a softy.” He begins walking to his own cabin with a content sigh. “But they better not sneak out again.”

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Can you CatVi x Reader where Reader touched VI’s jacket and it got into a mess of paint that the Reader was painting and Vi and Cait came home and saw the painting but saw VI’s jacket. But Vi was shocked and didn’t say anything but was angry.

Comin' right up!

Don't Cry Over Spilled Paint | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Messy. That was the word to describe you and your relationship with paint. After fair warnings to wash your hands after you paint, you get yourself into some trouble that might bite you in the butt later on.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Not Proofread, 3000+ words, No Use of Y/n, Angry Vi, Fluff Towards The End, Caitlyn Giggles (shh)

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

(A/N): UMMM totally didn't see where Anon said Vi doesn't say anything ab being upset. She totally did and IM SO SORRY ANON 😭😭

You weren't sure how it happened. One minute you were painting a beautiful piece that showed Zaun in its light and then the next you were frantically scrubbing paint off of Vi's red jacket.

Maybe this could've been avoided if you just listened to Caitlyn.

"Make sure you wash your hands after you paint," she would always say to you. "You touch everything after you paint and you get paint everywhere."

You should've listened to her, you really should've, but she wasn’t here to warn you. So, technically, this was on her!

"Come on, come on," you muttered as you scrubbed a white rag on the jacket. Luckily, the paint spot was small. The color of the paint a navy blue and it was right next to some forever dirt patches in the jacket so the spot wasn't noticeable.

With the jacket and rag underneath running water, you declared the jacket done. The paint had already dried and there was no going back now. Besides, would Vi really notice that minuscule spot? You didn't think so.

A relieved sigh escaped your mouth as you shut off the tap. Wringing the rag out, you noticed two palm-sized white spots on the jacket. You set the rag down, going to inspect the jacket but before the jacket even touched your hands, your heart dropped to your feet.

The palms of your hands were white from priming your next canvas. The same white on the jacket matched the white on your hands.

Maybe it's just a coincidence.

You leaned your head further into the sink, too terrified to even touch the jacket. Through the white primer on the jacket, some lines and cracks matched the pattern of a human's palms. Okay, if your heart hadn't sunk before, it was now. Oh, and now you were trembling with fear.

You turned the tap on again. The water splashed and sprouted upwards from hitting Vi's jacket. You watched as the soaked jacket continued to take more water but the white spots not diminishing.

You turned the tap to hot.

Still the same reaction. Jacket soaks up water, paint remains untouched.

You should've noticed that the paint on your hands wasn't transferring to the faucet handles; a sign of dried hand paint.

"We're home!" Caitlyn's voice rang throughout the home.

Shit.

You thought you had more time. You thought you could take her jacket to the dry cleaners and get someone to professionally get the paint out yet leave all the dirt and grime so Vi wouldn't notice the difference.

You thought you had time to research how to get primer out of fabric and search up which primer you used to see if it was water-soluble. Was there even such a thing as a water-soluble primer? What's the point of a primer if it disappears with water?? FUCK.

Wooden creaks and deep steps rattled the floor above you. Caitlyn and Vi were settling themselves in the kitchen. This meant you had some time to hide the jacket in your studio before Vi noticed her missing jacket.

Quickly, you grabbed a plastic bag and shoved her jacket inside. You needed to keep the jacket wet. The wetter the jacket, the easier the paint comes out. Well, that was your theory at least. Tying the bag into knots you'll have to cut out later, you shoved the bag into a box of battered art supplies.

Don't ask why you have a large cardboard box filled with dead/empty art supplies. You don't know yourself.

"Muffin!" Vi shouted from the studio's entrance. "You comin' up or what?"

"Yeah!" your voice trembled. "Just trying to wash some paint off my hands."

Hearing the slight tremble in your voice, Vi took it upon herself to travel down into the basement-- oh, sorry, into your art studio -- to see what was the matter.

However, once she reached the halfway point of the staircase, you came running up.

"Whoa," Vi laughed. She placed her hands on your shoulders to prevent the two of you from colliding. "Where's the fire?"

You chuckled, sheepish and breathless. "Oh, uh. I thought you guys needed me and I didn't want you to wait much longer."

"Oh, well, that's cute of you, Muffin, but we're alright." Vi ruffled your hair. "I just wanted to make sure you ate your food before it gets cold."

"Aw, you got me food?" You put your hands on her shoulders and pushed her up the stairs. There was some resistance, naturally, but Vi let you push her up anyway.

"Well, yeah we know you've been--"

"Caitlyn!" you greeted, locking eyes with her. The girl was mid-bite in a pancake, the circle good dangling from her mouth and eyes wide. Vi laughed at her and the girl quickly took the pancake from her mouth with red cheeks.

"H-Hi!" she returned the greeting. She stood up from the counter and cleaned her hands off with a napkin. "Um, we got you food. Your favorite breakfast meal."

"Oh, great!" You removed your hands from Vi's body and made a beeline into the kitchen. The food was already plated for you with your favorite beverage on the side. You ate contently, trying not to let your worry show through facial expressions.

What was your plan now? Do you tell her? Do you let that jacket mildew and mold and hope she forgets about it? No, there's not way she could forget about it. She wears that jacket every damn day.

"Muffin," Vi said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Caitlyn and Vi were sitting at the counter across from you. When did they get there? You had no clue. "Why are your palms white? Like, whiter than Caitlyn white?"

You stifled a laugh while Caitlyn swatted her arm. "I was painting. That's why I was in the studio."

"Yeah, I know," Vi said through laughter. Caitlyn's swat had no effect on her. "But I thought you were washing your hands? Your hands were wet when you were pushing me up the-- wait," Violet deadpanned. "I don't have paint on me, do I?"

Frantic, the woman searched her arms for paint. The woman was wearing nothing but a plain white tank and some random pants. You would totally be distracted by her buff arms if your heart wasn't slowly finding its place in your chest.

Caitlyn hummed, eating a piece of pancake while she searched Vi's body. "No, you look fine which tells me someone forgot to wash their hands after they were done painting again." You received a scolding look from the English lady.

You shrugged with a dry chuckle. "Don't worry. I didn't get paint on anything."

Safe to say, your girlfriends did not believe you. Immediately springing up from their chairs, they raced to your studio despite your pleas.

They couldn't find any new marks of paint on the walls or support pillars. In fact, when they were done searching, they stumbled upon your Zaun painting and praised you for how well you captured the city.

"Wow, Muffin, you did really good with this," Vi complimented. Her fingers reached out towards the canvas, but you quickly slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch! It's still wet."

Vi snickered but obeyed. She stepped back but continued to admire your recent artwork.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, wasn't fully convinced you didn't touch anything with your painted hands. She strode towards the sink to see if there were any new paint marks. Instead of finding new paint, she found that the sink was still shiny from recent usage.

She hummed to herself. Vi said your hands were wet, though no paint transferred to her arms. So, your hands weren't wet with paint but with water. Caitlyn's gaze flickered over to your damp washcloth. Recently wrung up with a new paint mark.

The mark was a faded blue. The blue matched the blues you used in your painting, but the mark wasn't big enough for Caitlyn to assume you were cleaning up your lines with a towel.

You spilled paint on something, but on what?

To the left of her, Caitlyn spotted the box of art supplies. A hoarder, her partner was, keeping empty paint tubes, dead brushes, and other things you use for your craft.

What Caitlyn spotted was a new lump in the box. Instead of your dead supplies lying relatively flat, there was something disturbing the colorful sea, something hiding.

"Darling," Caitlyn called out for you with a finger on her chin and her other arm supporting the elbow. "Did you run out of a lot of paint while making that piece? Your graveyard of art supplies seemed to have grown."

Both yours and Vi's gaze snapped from the painting and to Caitlyn.

The three of you sat in silence, yet the tension in the air rose.

Your gaze flickered from the box, to Vi, to the box, to Caitlyn, and then back to the box.

Before anyone could say anything, you dashed. You didn't get far, matter of fact, you got nowhere before Vi wrapped her arms around your middle to hold you back.

Caitlyn went digging through the box, detirmined. Nothing could get past her. Not even her partner who loves to paint but is too messy for their own good.

"Aha!" Caitlyn triumphed as she held up the tied plastic bag. She poked the bag, a smile growing on her face. "Interesting. It's still wet and slimy inside. A recent hiding, must I say."

"Cait, don't!" you plead, squirming and wiggling under Vi's grip. The pinkette tightened her grasp around you.

"You're not going anywhere," her voice rasped through gritted teeth. You were being a challenge with all your squirms, but Vi had no problem throwing you over her shoulder if you became too much. Besides, she was having too much fun watching you beg and plead for Caitlyn not to open the bag.

"I'm sorry, but I have to." Caitlyn's long and slender fingers toyed with the knot. She used her fingernails to pull up a piece of the thin plastic before slipping her finger inside to loosen the knot completely.

"Caitlyn, I'm telling you, do not open that bag."

Opened, she did.

The girl barely took a gander before she gasped at the bag's containment. "You're right," she said through a trembling and quiet voice. "I do not need to open this bag. This bag must remain closed."

"What?" Vi exclaimed, letting go of you. "Oh, come on! Show me what's in the bag! It isn't fair you two know what it is and I don't."

Vi marched over to Caitlyn, but the blue-haired girl held the bag over her head. "No, Violet, I mean it. We need to respect our partner's boundaries and not open this bag."

You were frozen in fear. Vi was too close to the bag for your own good. You were thankful for Caitlyn's understanding of keeping the bag away from Vi, but that didn't mean you wont be hearing a lesson in your near future.

"Bull. Shit." Vi then brought her fingers to Caitlyn's armpit and tickled her. The bluenette immediately caved with giggles. Her crinkled eyes and cute smile would usually be an adorable sight to see, but right now, the sight made you seethe with anger.

Really, Cait? Couldn't hold on for just a bit longer?

Caitlyn brought her arm down, folding it like a chicken wing to stop Vi from tickling her. "Stop!" she giggled.

Vi grinned, snatching the back from her hand. "Anything for you, princess." The pinkette opened the bag and stared at its contents.

Caitlyn slid her way over to you, a small frown on her face as she played with her hands. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep it away from her for long," she whispered.

You sighed, watching Vi's face crinkle and express many, yet unreadable, emotions. "It's fine," you whispered back. "Just promise you'll attend my funeral."

Finally, after what seemed like 30 agonizing minutes, Vi spoke. "Is this my jacket?"

You gulped. "What do you want it to be?"

Vi called you by your name, her gaze lasering on you. Her eyes were darkened with anger, her lips upturned into a scowl. "Don't play cute with me," she called you by your name again. "Is this my jacket?"

Your heart was back in your chest again, but this time, it felt like it wanted to escape. A deep lump lodged and settled itself in your throat, making it difficult to say the words your brain was telling you to say.

Your chalky palms now wet from sweat and your body buzzing with anxiety. You couldn't say anything. You wanted to, but you couldn't.

You only watched the ticking time bomb on Vi's face as her expression went from upset to vexed. Her face was red with anger, the hands gripping the bag turned into fists, and her chest rose and fell with each staggered breath.

Vi took her jacket out of the bag. She scoffed at its drenched state and brought it over to the sick. She wrung it out like you did once before with a rag. Her hands were covering where the spots were.

Much like yourself, Caitlyn couldn't say a word. The two of you watched her like deers stuck in headlights. What could one say to de-escalate the situation? Caitlyn felt that if she tried to calm Vi down, she would be brushed off and told not to speak.

Vi studied the jacket from each angle. She studied the front, she studied the back. She studied the inside and then studied the pockets. It wasn't until she draped the jacket over a forearm she saw the two obnoxious spots of primer.

"I can't believe this," Vi said quietly, only a true sign of her deep anger. "Time and time again, we tell you to wash your hands and not touch anything. It was cute the first couple of times, annoying the next, and now I'm pissed off."

This had to be worse than any lecture Caitlyn would've given you.

"This is my jacket. My favorite jacket." Vi's back was turned to you, but now she's facing you dead on. Honest, you preferred her back to you. Then you wouldn't have to see the hurt in her eyes and she wouldn't have to see the sadness in yours.

A voice in Vi's head told her to stop talking but the anger she was feeling mimicked the anger she felt when Vander died. She had no control over what she was going to say, she could feel it. She wanted to stop talking to prevent further damage, but her emotions took her whole.

"I stole this from some rando after I beat his ass. I've had this for around 2 years now and until you came along, it was unscathed."

"Vi..." Caitlyn warned.,

"Sure, there were some dirt and sweat stains here and there, but that's what gave this jacket character. It's what made this jacket more like me because even though it was dirty, grimy, and stinky, it preserved through all the shit it went through," Vi continued.

You weren't sure if you were crying. Your eyes stung like you were, but the rest of your body shut down. Vi's words were like piercing sharp arrows flying through the wind and your body was the target. You've mastered the heart of tuning out lengthy and emotional lectures thanks to your parents, but all that skill was no match for Vi's words.

"All it took. All it took was your careless thinking and some fucking paint to ruin the one thing that felt like me. Thanks for that." Vi threw the jacket into the sink and went upstairs.

She didn't bother to look you or Caitlyn in the eye.

-

It's been a few days and you and Vi haven't talked. The first few days you didn't talk because the wounds were still fresh but as the silence grew and the wounds began to heal, the problem was finding the right words to say.

You've tried to apologize for the jacket multiple times, but she wouldn't hear it. Caitlyn even took the jacket to the cleaners to get the stains out, but Vi didn't want to see it.

Every time Vi got a glimpse of you or the jacket hanging in the closet, she knew she had to apologize to you. She wanted to apologize to you, but she didn't know how. Caitlyn tried to help countless of times, but no avail.

Sleeping arrangements were worse.

Vi slept on the couch the first few nights and then after some coaxing by Caitlyn, Vi slept on the furtherest side of the bed. Typically she liked to be in the middle or you would be in the middle, but as of late, she slept on the left and you slept on the right.

Poor Caitlyn had to sleep in the middle. She hated the middle. She didn't like how warm the two of you were in the night, making her burn up. She didn't like how if she wanted to read or work in bed, she couldn't turn the nightstand lamp on. The middle was awful. She wanted her right side back.

The night of the week anniversary of the argument, you and Vi stumbled into the bedroom to find Caitlyn sitting on the edge of the bed and glaring at the two of you.

"I am not sleeping in the middle any longer," she declared. "You two are too warm, I don't have enough arm or leg room, and I can't read which means I'm restless every time I sleep!" Caitlyn stood from the bed, arms crossed over her body. "And to be fair, I've grown tired of your childish argument. You two are grown adults. Talk your shit out so we can sleep in our rightful places."

You and Vi glanced at each other.

You already said your apology. What else could you say? It wasn't like you could offer her a meal, it was too late to eat and you definitely weren't saying another apology,

Vi sighed, looking away first. She shrugged, going to the left side of the bed. Caitlyn stopped her by pushing a hand to her chest. "Nuh-uh," Caitlyn eyed her. She pointed towards your direction with her brows furrowed. Vi groaned and walked back over to you.

"Oh, well that's one way to make a person feel warm and fuzzy inside," you scoffed. Vi rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please, you mean like ruining someone's jacket?"

"It wasn't on purpose!" you exclaimed. "You know it wasn't on purpose. I understand your being upset for my clumsiness and lack of awareness when it comes to wet paint, but you can't still be mad at me for something I got fixed."'

"You didn't even fix it," Vi rolled her eyes again. "One of Caitlyn's fancy buddies did."

"And who do you think paid for that?" you scoffed at her. "It might've been a buddy of hers but I still had to pay full price for a Piltover dry cleaning service. I don't believe in waving money and prices over people's faces, but since you want to go there, that cost me two months' worth of payments and as a starving artist, that's a lot of money to recover."

Vi only shrugged as her mouth converted into some sort of frown. She didn't know you had to pay 1,200 dollars to get her jacket fixed. She could've been more grateful and showed you some gratitude for getting her jacket cleaned, but you were the one who ruined it anyway. It was your job to get the jacket cleaned.

Caitlyn sighed. "Vi, stop being stubborn and say 'thank you' and an apology."

"Why should I have to say an apology?" Vi knew why, though she didn't want to admit it aloud.

"Why?" Caitlyn scoffed. "Vi, I knew you were thick-headed but I never thought it to be this extreme." Shaking her head, Caitlyn climbed into bed. "Fine then. Don't apologize and don't patch things up. I'm tired of being the referee."

Something stirred inside Vi. It wasn't anger or contentment, but instead a sadness. Not only is she unable to patch things up with you, but now she's dragged Caitlyn into this mess. Caitlyn was the peacemaker because Vi, herself, was unable to make peace with anything.

Caitlyn didn't deserve this. You didn't either.

If Vi didn't nip this in the bud, she was going to lose the both of you. She was going to lose the only people who saw her for her and loved her regardless of her faults.

"I'm sorry," the words stumbled out of Vi like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time, "to the both of you."

Caitlyn peered up at her with a book in her hand. You, who hasn't said or done anything since the last time you spoke, met her gaze.

"Muffin, I'm sorry for lashing out on you and not being mature enough to handle this situation properly. You trying to hide the bag is on me because I should've created a space where you can come to me about anything. Even if you think it may upset me."

"It's okay--"

"It's not okay. You don't have to forgive me or say some line like, 'Oh, everyone gets angry sometimes'. No. It's not okay and I apologize for my behavior. I'm working on it." Vi put a hesitant hand on your shoulder. When you allowed her to, she smiled and pressed a kiss ot your temple.

"And, Cupcake," Vi addressed Caitlyn. Caitlyn hummed in response. "I'm sorry for roping you into this and not realizing how miserable you were while Muffin and I fought."

"Yeah," you chimed. "I'm sorry about that too. You didn't deserve any of this."

A soft smile rested upon Caitlyn's lips. She motioned the two of you over, willingly wanting to be in the middle so she could hug you both. You and Vi gathered by her side, wrapping an arm around her. "I love you too, lugs," Caitlyn said behind a laugh. "I hope we can all learn from this."

"Yeah," you said behind a grin. "I learned that Caitlyn is severely ticklish and will cave immediately after a few seconds of tickling."

"What?" Caitlyn blushed. "No, that was not the lesson here," she nervously chuckled, her blush already spreading to her ears.

Vi laughed along with you. "Yeah, actually. I accidentally found that out like a month or two ago and only used it the day of the fiasco."

You gasped. "You found out and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, I didn't know how!" Vi laughed.

"Now, hang on a minute," Caitlyn said trying to catch your attention.

"Well, now I feel left out." "Who's to say you can't tickle her now?"

"Hold on!" Caitlyn pleaded but it was too late. Your hands and fingers found the soft skin on her stomach and laughs roared out of her. Vi joined the activity, tickling some of her neck.

Even after a week of drama, the love between the three of you remained. Plus, you guys even got some giggles out of it.

WC: 3,877

I have a headcanon that when Y/N was pregnant with the kits, Husk did that cat thing that looks like kneading dough on her baby bump. I also think that sometimes, when Y/N wakes up early, she finds Husk snore-purring with his head resting on the bump.

A/n:🥺Adorable

Husk had his own unique way of giving you attention during your pregnancy. He was protective, never letting you go alone, the cat demon often making you sit down and sleep instead of working know matter how much you complained.

One thing you've come to love the most was when he'd be kneading or as you affectionally called it, making biscuits on your baby bump. Husk would often do it when you were asleep, his paws softly kneading in your belly to help you sleep.

The first time he did it you were a bit nervous but it has become a comfort for you, something that you had grown used too. It didn't hurt you, he was gentle, always with a smile on his face until he'd rest his head on your belly.

Eyes sliding closed as he held you, it took you moments to realize that he was purring. The sound slowly lulling you to sleep as you felt his tail wrap around ankle.

"They love it when you make biscuits."

Letting out a huff, Husk adverted his gaze then nuzzled his face into your belly until he sighed giving you a crooked smile. "That so?"

"Oh ya, can't you feel then kick."

Letting out a blissful sigh, his eyes closed. "It's a wonderful feeling."

Hiii! Could you do 14+n with Bruce? 🤭 I know it takes a lot of effort to write but the fact that word count is a lot is not only bc he is bae (he’s the only man ever actually) but also bc YOU are suuuper talented. It’s insane. Anyway, than u in advance ❤️

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me” + Pregnancy + Bale!Bruce Wayne

Words: 4.1k words

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, a bit of crack (Bruce is so funny he could be a stand up comedian), Alfred is also hilarious, lots of protective Bruce and Alfred, it's just an overall very fluffy and sweet fic!! Not proofread though, so if I forgot anything, let me know!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's another entry from my 200 Followers Event! This was so fun to write oh my god!!! I am a firm believer in the fact that Bruce Wayne would be an amazing partner, and a very fun person to be around. I truly think he'd have the most beautiful relationship with his partner, and I tried to convey it here!

So, I hope this was up to your expectations, and that you love it as much as I do!!!!

ᴬˡˢᵒ ᵒᵐᵍ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿˢ, ᴵ'ᵈ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ʸᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵛᵉʳʸ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ, ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ!!! ᴰᵃᵐⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗⁱᵃⁿ ᴮᵃˡᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˡᵒᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳˢ ˡᵒˡ

The first thing you thought as you walked down the stairs of Wayne Manor was “We should get an elevator”, followed by “I’m never walking down these godforsaken stairs again”.

You weren’t lazy, not quite.

It was just extremely hard doing so now that your stomach was as big as a basketball.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the marble railing, sighing deeply.

“Look, I love you, I really do. You’re my little bundle of joy, and you’re not even here yet,” you mumbled, placing a small hand on your stomach to support it. “But you need to give your mommy a break, alright? I can barely walk, and your dad wants to put me in a wheelchair. And we’re stubborn, baby, we are. So, we gotta prove to him we’re still capable of doing things on your own. Thing you can do that?”

You were met with a weird sensation; one you’d felt countless times before. Your baby was kicking. You didn’t think that to be a coincidence – you liked to assume your child was replying to whatever you said. You spoke to him quite often, mumbling about your day, telling him about all the things you did at the Manor or whenever you were out and about. Bruce was pretty sure you were already the baby’s favourite since he seemed to calm his kicking fits pretty quickly whenever you spoke to him.

You smiled at your bump and caught your breath, making your way towards the living room.

Alfred was in the kitchen, brewing a small cup of tea. He placed it on top of a silver tray and came out of the room. Once he got a good look at you, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and he hurried to place the tray down and rush to your side.

“Madam Wayne, what in the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked, taking your arm. Alfred, just like Bruce, had taken a liking to assuming you weren’t even capable of opening water bottles by yourself. “I thought I told you to let me know once you came downstairs.” His tone was stern, but you could tell apart the layers upon layers of care.

“Alfred, if I take you up on that offer every time you make it, I’ll become spoiled. That’s not a message I want to pass on to my son,” you replied with a soft chuckle.

Alfred led you to the couch, where you sat down and groaned in relief. You were about 8 months pregnant, and absolutely huge, and everything felt terrible and uncomfortable. Bruce doted on you immensely, but you just wanted it to be over, wanted to get this baby out of you and into your arms.

“Your son is the heir to the Wayne name, Madam. I believe he will grow spoiled whether you like it or not.”

“Bruce will not be spoiling our child, Alfred,” you scoffed, “You know I won’t let him.”

“No one said anything about Master Wayne.” Was his reply, paired up with a cheeky grin.

You chuckled and tried leaning over to fetch the cup of tea Alfred had prepared. He of course did not let you, grabbing it before you had a chance to. He handed it to you with a soft “Here you go” and a cheeky smile.

Ever since you’d gotten pregnant, it was like Bruce and Alfred alike had made some sort of devilish deal to take upon themselves every burden and chore of yours. You were no longer allowed to do laundry, help Alfred with the dishes, tend to the garden, you weren’t even allowed to cook dinner for your husband anymore.

Instead, you were told to rest and not worry yourself and not tire yourself out.

It was annoying when Bruce did it, although you knew he had the best intentions at heart, but it was even worse when Alfred did it. Alfred, of all people. Your partner in crime, your close friend, the one who teamed up with you against Bruce, the one who made sure to always keep you in the loop of whatever was going on, the one person you knew you could trust in a sea of snobs and fake smiles (aside from Bruce, of course).

You often joked he’d betrayed you, no longer joining you to prank Bruce or get him to leave his office or his cave. No, now, it was the other way around, and you felt like you’d been stabbed in the back.

“One day you’re going to wake up, and I’m going to be shopping all by myself, far away from the both of you,” you sighed and sipped from your tea. It was your favourite and tasted as lovely as always – Alfred was almost like a magician.

“And risk giving Master Wayne a heart attack? What a loving wife you are.” Alfred replied smugly. “I guess true love really does manifest in the strangest of ways.”

“You’re a viper, Alfred,” you sighed. “A vicious, sneaky little viper.”

“Happy to be of service, Madam.”

You groaned.

That’s another thing you’d lost after the pregnancy – the privilege of having Alfred calling you by your actual name as opposed to any fancy titles. It had taken him a few years and a lot of begging from you; you were far too tired of “Mrs. Wayne” and you considered him more than a butler, but rather a friend, so why couldn’t he just address you by your name? And you’d managed to do it. Little by little, Alfred was calling you by your name, ditching the titles.

That was, until you said you were pregnant.

Now, not only you were back to titles, but you were also Madam.

When you’d asked Alfred why the sudden change, he said, “Not only you are Mrs. Wayne, but you are also carrying on the legacy of this family. You are Master Wayne’s wife, and now the mother of his children. It would be informal to refer to you as anything less than that.”

Safe to say, you were screwed.

You loved your guys, you did. Alfred played a huge role in your life, being friend and confidante and a father figure all at once. And Bruce was the love of your life.

But sometimes, all you wanted to do was strangle both to death.

“If you need anything, Madam, just call.” Alfred said before standing up.

“You know I won’t.”

“I know bloody hell you won’t, but I’ll be here nonetheless.”

You smiled and grabbed the book that was by your side, deciding on some light reading. The sun was shining brightly and casting a warm glow over the vast living room of Wayne Manor. You smiled at the sight. You loved peaceful afternoons like this, where the sun warmed your face and tickled your feet, and you could relax for a bit.

Today though, you were simply trying to pass time until Bruce arrived.

He was taking you out for a stroll in the park later, something you’d been begging for a while now, and you couldn’t wait.

It’s not like he kept you locked up inside the Manor – not at all. You were not a prisoner he held captive. He was just protective. Bruce had lost so much in his life; now that he had you and you were giving him a child, he wanted to do everything in his power to make sure you weren’t taken from him as well. He did not forbid you to go outside or carry on with your usual life – he was simply careful. Ever since you started showing, Alfred was to accompany you anywhere you needed to go, along with a bodyguard Bruce had hired just for you.

Bruce knew how cruel Gotham could be, and how vicious journalists and paparazzi could act just for a scoop, so he made sure to try and keep you safe, even if he wasn’t there to do it himself. And you had to admit, he’d been right. More than once had paparazzi tried to get pictures of your baby bump, or tried to interview you while you ran errands or shopped. It was draining, and you partly understood Bruce’s paranoia with your safety.

When you hit the 7-month mark and your belly had considerably grown in size, he was more alert than ever. You couldn’t leave the house without being accompanied, and if you wanted to go out at night, you had to let him know where and with who in advance. Not to control your every move (well, kind of to control your every move), but just to keep you safe, should he be out as Batman and couldn’t go out with you. And how could you not understand where he came from? Everyone knows poor Bruce Wayne’s story. Losing both his parents at a young age, being away from his own city for so long, leading an extremely lonely life all these years. He was not going to lose the one person that had brought him so much joy and hope for the future.

At first it had annoyed you a bit. “I’m pregnant, Bruce. I can still do things,” you had told him.

But one night, you caught him in your bedroom, shaking and crying. Earlier, you’d been intercepted by a few journalists – fanatics, more accurately – who’d cornered you against a wall and bombarded you with questions, even going as far as touching you, pushing you and pulling you so you’d be near their microphones and answer their questions. Bruce had been fetching your drink from a coffee chop nearby, while you waited for him outside (the line was long and it was bustling with activity, and Bruce did not want you near all the confusion), and he’d only caught sight of you when he came out, drinks in hand, and spotted your teary eyed expression, trying to get away from the reporters. The drinks were forgotten and spilled all over the sidewalk once they hit the floor, and Bruce was by your side in a flash, yelling at them and threatening them repeatedly. You were quick to hold onto him, terrified, and he wrapped his arm around you protectively, a cruel expression on his face.

And later when you got home, you’d caught him crying. You’d walked up to him and asked if everything was alright, and he had begged for your forgiveness. He kept mumbling about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten there on time, about how terrible of a husband he was, leaving you all alone on the street, and about how you didn’t deserve him.

You’d sighed and pulled him up to kiss his lips softly.

“You’re an amazing husband,” you’d whispered in the quietness of your bedroom. “The best I could have ever asked for. And you have nothing to apologize for. It’s fine. We’re fine. Please don’t beat yourself up over it, I beg of you.”

Bruce had taken your face in his hands and kissed you, promising without words to do better, to be better. You kissed him back, assuring him no promises were needed.

The following morning, every news channel was flooded with reports of numerous journalists being fired due to the harassment of Bruce Wayne’s pregnant wife.

You’d looked at Bruce over your coffee, and he’d smugly ignored you.

Bruce had taken the news of your pregnancy extremely well. Of course he’d moped and worried for a while, commenting on how he had a duty as Batman, but also as your husband, nearly trying to figure out a way to split himself into two jus so he was able to take care of both, but a serious talk with Alfred (which you overheard partially by accident) sent him on the right track.

From that moment onward, Batman wasn’t in the picture as much. He did not give the mask up altogether – Bruce wasn’t going to stop trying his best for the city, and he had to make sure the tabloids did not put one and one together (even though no one in the public eye would ever guess the Bruce Wayne to be the Dark Knight) – but his mind was always on you.

And perhaps it was a good thing because Gotham seemed to be flourishing. Crime rates had gone down, and people walked a bit more safely at night. It was a breath of fresh air, knowing that Gotham could be transformed like that. Besides, Bruce did not want to worry you. Worry and stress were terrible for the baby, so he promised he’d do his best to give you none.

So far, it had worked, and your relationship had never been better.

Speaking of the devil, Bruce walked inside the living room, loosening the knot on his tie. His face looked tired, and sported a frown, something that you picked up on almost immediately.

“Good afternoon, handsome.” You smiled at him, and could see the way his shoulders visibly relaxed, how his feet moved towards you like second nature, the way his frown was quickly replaced by a smile.

“Good afternoon, beautiful.” Bruce sat by your feet and took your hands in his, as he usually did. He bent over to kiss you tenderly and place a quick peck on top of your belly before asking, “How’s our little peanut doing?” He rubbed soothing circles on your skin, and you melted into his touch, as you often did.

“Very active, as always. Hasn’t stopped kicking and won’t let me walk two steps without expressing its discontentment.” You huffed, before realising the words that had just left your lips. “But I’m fine,” you were quick to add, “Extremely fine, and we can totally still go for a walk in the park. It’s fine. I’m fine. Honest.”

Bruce eyed you curiously, and you recognised in his eyes the look he always gave you when he was trying to read you. Right now, you assumed he was trying to figure out whether you meant it or not.

“I swear. I’m fine. He’s just active. Come on, help me up. Let’s go.”

“Darling, are you sure?” he asked, lovely brown eyes filled with so much concern it made your stomach churn a bit. You hated seeing him like this. You knew it wasn’t your fault though – neither was it his. He was just a good husband. “If you’re tired, we can stay in. Watch a movie, order some takeout maybe – “

“Bruce, I promise,” you repeated, cupping his jaw. “He’s just active. Takes after his father.”

“Whoever that may be,” he joked, earning a chuckle from you.

“Now, help me up. I’m huge and want to go for a stroll with my husband.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Bruce helped you stand up and wrapped his arms around you. He brought you close and kissed you properly this time, lips trailing over yours as his tongue explored your mouth. Your hands came up to cup his cheeks and you smiled into the kiss, sighing in delight.

“Are you trying to distract me, Mr. Wayne?” you asked, peeking through your lashes.

“Maybe. Is it working?” he replied.

“Maybe. But not entirely. Come on. The weather is really nice today, and I really don’t wanna miss it. I’m going to get extremely upset with you if you kiss me out of going for a stroll. And you won’t like me when you’re mad.”

“I already don’t,” Bruce gave you one last peck and took you by the hand, leading you to the garage.

Bruce had to admit, the weather was nice.

The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot to scald either of you. Birds were singing (something he had never heard before in Gotham), and flowers were in bloom. It was the perfect afternoon, and he was extremely glad he’d taken it off to be with you.

Speaking of you, you sat next to him, eating strawberries, and admiring the view in front of you. You loved this park – it was where you’d first met Bruce – and came here often, relishing in the pretty scenery and the calmness of it all. Gotham could be bustling with energy and light and noise, and while you’d come to grow fond of it (after all, it was home), you also appreciated those moments of quiet you managed to steal whenever you could.

“What about Benjamin?” you asked, turning to him. You were as radiant as ever, the light of the sun bathing your face in an ethereal glow. Bruce was sure that if angels existed, this is what they would look like. He caught sight of some strawberry juice dripping down your chin and collected it his finger, taking it to his mouth afterwards to lick it clean.

You wrinkled your nose.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Oh now, is it?” Bruce asked, feigning innocence. “Because I’m pretty sure last night, you asked me to – “

“What about Benjamin?” you repeated. Only this time, slightly louder, and with heat spreading across your cheeks.

Bruce chuckled and moved closer to you so he could steal a kiss. You tasted like strawberries and love, and he wanted to freeze this moment forever.

“Benjamin.” He repeated once he pulled away for breath, lips inches away from yours.

“It’s sweet. We could call him Ben.” You said with a soft smile.

“Benjamin when we’re angry.”

“Bruce!”

“You’re going to have my child; do you seriously expect him to be an angel?” He asked with a quirked brow.

“Ah, so now it’s your child.”

“It’ll be yours every time he gets in trouble.”

“With a father like you, I wonder if there’s ever going to be a time where he doesn’t.”

The two of you laughed and Bruce swore his heart was going to burst from all the love he felt. For a long time, he’d led a mostly lonely life, going to parties, and pretending to be a womanizer, a new model or actress on his arm whenever his photo was taken. It was sad, but necessary if he wanted to keep his Batman persona a secret. Only Alfred was allowed in, seeing as Bruce had no living relatives or any close family. He had Rachel, of course, but they didn’t speak as much as they used to, seeing as she was now engaged to Harvey Dent.

And then you came along.

And his lonely, monochrome life was turned upside down and splashed with colour.

Events and galas were now much more enjoyable because he had you by his side to talk to, kiss whenever no one was looking and make fun of all the high society extravagances he did not associate himself with. No longer did he wake up to silky white empty sheets, but a lovely woman who snuggled close and kissed his jaw and made him giggle and laugh and feel loved. So very loved.

“Anyway, I’m not sure I like Benjamin,” he said, tugging a lock of hair behind your ear and taking the opportunity to run his fingers through your radiant face. Up close, he could see the details of your face, the way your lashes framed your pretty eyes, how they sparkled in the sun. You were the loveliest woman he had ever laid eyes upon. “Any other ideas?”

“Theodore? We can call him Theo.”

“Theodore?”

“Nathaniel. Nathan.”

“I am going to divorce you.”

“All it took was bad baby names? Crap, I would’ve done this way sooner if I knew that’s how I got to get rid of you.”

He snorted and stole another kiss, cupping your cheek with his palm. You were man and wife, but most importantly you were friends. You were his best friend, his greatest confidante and partner in crime. There was no awkwardness between the two of you, never had been beside that small nervous feeling on your tummy during the first few dates. After that, you both became inseparable, and all nervousness was out the window. That’s why you could joke around so much – you trusted each other.

But of course, these were all jokes. Bruce worshiped the ground you walked on, and you loved him more than your own life. No matter how many jokes you cracked about situations like this, you were deeply in love with each other. At first, Bruce was a bit unsure about the jokes. He was afraid that deep down, you would mean any of the things you told him. But after a lot of reassuring, he realised it was simply your friendship blossoming even more. You were still friends. Only now, you were married.

After a while of kissing and stealing a taste of the strawberries you’d been eating earlier, he pulled away and smiled.

“Actually…” you started, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Scary stuff.”

You chuckled.

“About a name.”

“Doesn’t make it less scary.”

You pushed him jokingly and he kissed you once more, swiping his tongue over your lower lip and earning a sigh from you.

“I wanted to run it through you first.”

“Alright, hit me with your best shot.”

You took a deep breath and nodded once, before turning to face him again.

“Thomas.”

It took a while for Bruce to react. Thomas. You were thinking about naming your son Thomas. Like his father. He felt a flurry of emotions surge within him. First, he felt melancholy at the reminder that his father wouldn’t be here to watch his grandson grow. Nor would his mother. After that, he felt hurt. His son would grow up without a regular family. And then, all of the pleasant and positive emotions settled into his chest and he found himself smiling. He felt gratitude for you. He was so grateful to have you by his side. And then he felt happiness. Pure, sheer, raw happiness. He was so happy to be your husband. So lucky. So grateful.

“Thomas.” He repeated.

“Thomas. Tom.”

“Tommy.”

“Little Tommy Wayne.”

“Thomas Wayne.”

“Junior.”

“Junior?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you gesticulated, “After your father. Junior. Is that not how it works?”

“I think I would have to be Thomas in order for our son to be Junior.”

“Really? I thought you just added that to whoever. Thomas the second, then.”

“We’re not naming our son Thomas the second.” Bruce scoffed.

“Technically, he’ll be Thomas the second, you know.”

Bruce laughed again, and you smiled. How you loved seeing your husband smile. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Bruce was a beautiful person. Not just a beautiful man. A beautiful person. He was kind and caring, and extremely funny, and even though no one else in Gotham knew, he risked himself nearly every night to keep Gotham City safe. He was perfect. And all you ever wanted was for him to be happy.

The day you told him you were pregnant, you were sure your heart was going to burst with joy at the sight of him. He hugged you tightly, kissed your breath away, opened the windows and screamed out loud that he was going to be a father, wept a little, kneeled in front of you and kissed your stomach – the whole shebang.

And it almost made you weep with joy, because if your beloved husband was happy, what else could you possibly want?

“I love it,” he murmured, and you could spot the vulnerability in his gaze. It made you melt. It made you feel special, because you knew you were one of the only two people who Bruce allowed himself to be vulnerable with. Made you love and treasure everything you’d built together even more. “Thank you. I think it’s beautiful. Thank you so much. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Have I ever told you this?”

“You have. Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it, though,” you smiled and sat up straighter so you could take his jaw in your hand. He turned his face and softly kissed your palm, which sent butterflies flying in your stomach – or perhaps that’s just your son. “I love you too, Bruce. So much. And I love our little family. Even if we haven’t gotten to meet our little Tommy yet.”

“I love our family too,” Bruce replied, before stealing another kiss. “And I’m sure we’ll be immensely happy. I already am.”

“Me too.” Another one.

The two of you remained like that for a while, talking, smiling, giggling, and stealing strawberry kisses from each other (not that you needed to steal – you could take anything from Bruce, and he wouldn’t mind) and watching as the sun slowly set, bathing Gotham in soft twilight.

And you knew, as the breeze blew, and you sat next to the man you loved, that the world could throw just about anything your way. Unknowingly to you, he was thinking the exact same thing. And as you looked into each other’s eyes and smiled, you knew. You knew that as long as you were together, you would be fine.

A/N: And that's it! I know the ending is super cheesy, but I just love happy and cheesy endings... They make me all warm and fuzzy inside, and Bruce definitely deserves one!!!

Alright!!! I'll see you guys on my next drabble!!!

I hope you have a wonderful day ahead!!! <3

Happy Wife Happy Life

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

summary: being Clarisse's "wife" will always have it's perks

a/n: honestly don't know how to feel about this but I'm tired. anyway, kinda hate the ending. and my writing lol.

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Love is the greatest thing.

At least, in your eyes it is.

It can bring the strongest people to their knees, risking their lives or others lives just so that they can keep their person happy. It's always been amazing to you.

Not so much in your best friend Clarisse's. She'd much rather have the glory of being the strongest kid in school, or be feared by your classmates. "Love is stupid." She always tells you while she watches you study under the willow tree she likes climbing.

"No, it's not. It's powerful. You like powerful things don't you?" You'd say back with an airy laugh, then forcing her to come back down from the branches so you can help her with her math homework.

She's heard lots about the emotion called jealousy, but she'd never truly felt it until she saw Holly Bracken kiss your cheek during recess one day. The tightening of the chest, the way her throat went dry and she clenched her fist by her side from the other end of the black top and tried to stop herself from throwing the basketball in her hands towards the blonde girl's head. It wasn't a feeling Clarisse liked, and the feeling only went away when you were laying in her arms under the tree after school that day.

That warm afternoon, she'd asked you to marry her with a paper ring, one that you cherished for a whole week until it got caught in something and broke. You'd obviously said yes, the fact that you had a huge crush on her not exactly helping as you forced yourself to remember she was obviously kidding. Sealing the marriage with I do and then placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand like she'd seen done in the romantic movies her mother likes watching, you were officially hers. As long as you were her wife, Holly Bracken could no longer kiss your cheek with that ugly smug smile.

She went on to make sure of that, introducing you as her wife to anyone and everyone that was willingly to listen. You two were young, and nobody took it quite seriously until she saved up almost a full year's allowance money to buy you a nice looking- but still cheap- promise ring from the jewelry store downtown. It was a silent promise, one that she eventually voiced as you were sleeping over at her house.

"I'll be with you forever." She'd whispered in your ear, and you foolishly believed her.

She was gone three weeks later.

You didn't get a phone call, an email, or even a letter. She just....disappeared.

Her family stopped answering the door for you, seemingly purposefully avoiding you in town. It was months before you finally gave up, and it was obvious to anyone that looked hard enough you were slowly becoming a shell of yourself without her. Without your girl.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The only thing in your life that is weirder than Clarisse's mysterious disappearance, was the fact that a boy just told you you're a child of one of the Greek gods. You couldn't believe him. You'd learned about the gods in school, but there was no fudging way they were real. You'd only finally agreed to go to some place called Camp Half Blood when he rolled up one of his pant legs to reveal furry goat legs. Nothing will ever be weirder than that.

Just in time too, because right after you left the school building and started sprinting towards the forest across from the place, some giant winged creature that no one else seemed to see crashed through a window and started flying towards you.

Your protector, someone you learned is a satyr named Joey, lead you to camp with minimal death, which you learned is very rare when it comes to leading a demi-god to camp. It didn't help with the newly installed fear inside you, but you just simply nodded along with what he was saying as your eyes scanned the crowds of campers that are doing their own thing below the hill you stand on.

The moment you step past what Joey calls Thalia's tree, all eyes are on you. A new camper means special events so they feel welcome which means more fun for the campers and the drama of figuring out who their godly parent is. 

You don’t have any belongings other than the clothes on your skin and the school pencil that’s brought you a strange sense of comfort on your long trip. A female camper with blonde hair and gray eyes comes up and introduces herself as Annabeth, helping you to the “Hermes” cabin to give you a camp t-shirt and new pants. She explains all the new campers go there, at least until they get claimed, which means the kids in there are either children of Hermes, unclaimed, or new just like you. 

Since everyone is gone doing daily activities, you decide to just change in the cabin. It’s peaceful, the sound of campers laughter, birds in the trees.

Your blissful silence is broken when someone tightly wraps their arms around you from behind you and lifts you up in the air with a squeal, your hands flying to cover your bra-covered chest. “What the hell?!” You scream, but the profanities you were going to yell out die down in your throat when the person sets you down and you turn around to see Clarisse.

She doesn’t look much different, her hair a little bit grown out and her band t-shirts and jeans have been replaced by camouflage pants and an orange camp half blood shirt similar to the one you’re trying to put on. You’re so starstruck that you just stare, her arms still loosely wrapped around your waist as you stand there in only a bra and jeans. “Clar?” She nods, grinning brightly as she pulls you into yet another hug.

You’re much more aware this time, pushing her away harshly as you hurry to put on the shirt and then leave the cabin with a quick roll of your eyes. The curly haired girl is hot on your tail, attempting to grab your wrist to stop you before you pull it away as if she’s burned you. Her face is full of hurt, but your voice shows the same amount as you ask, “Why didn’t….why didn’t you call? Or email? Or-or send me a fucking letter? Just to let me know you were okay? That you came here.”

She sighs, eyes full of regret as they fall to look at her doc martens so she doesn’t have to see your sadness. “I couldn’t call you because a phone call is like sending a message out to any monsters that could be listening and find out where we are. Email, I don’t have any electronics cuz of the whole call thing.”

“And letter? I bet monsters don’t know how to read Clar.” The girl is silent for a minute, and as the silence continues is when you realize she doesn’t have an answer for you. You scoff, beginning to walk to who knows where again before she runs to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was scared. Gods, I was scared.” The worlds tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and the campers around you fall silent as they stare with mouths agape in shock.

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s just me.” She nods, wordlessly reaching out to hold your hand. You let her this time and she feels relief flood through her. “Scared. I was scared….scared that you would hate me for leaving. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her wife?” She attempts a small laugh, and she takes it as a win that the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in the start of a smile. “I promised you forever and then left without another word. You had been looking at me through rose colored glasses our entire lives, I was scared those glasses were shattered. It’s not an excuse though. I should’ve sent you a letter, told you I was okay and told you how much I missed you.”

A small smile works its way onto your face, but she can still see the sadness in your eyes and she hates it. She hates it when you're sad. “Come here angel.” The girl hesitantly pulls you into her arms, almost crying when you relax into her hold and hug her back before she remembers where you guys are and how many campers are staring in shock at how sweet she’s acting.

“You have to understand that I’m still mad Clar. Even if you were scared, I spent years living in fear you were dead.” You mumble against her shoulder as you grip onto her like she’s going to disappear again if you let go.

The girl nods in agreement, cradling your head to her chest as she glares at the campers in an attempt to get them to leave you two alone. They do it.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse brings you to her cabin, cuddling with you in her bed as she tells you anything and everything that has happened over the past. She’s a child of Ares, and you spend several minutes that it makes sense after the amount of times she threatened other kids by saying she should hang them from the top of the flagpole. 

By dinner time, it’s like no time has passed, and everyone’s eyes are on you as you two walk in with her arm casually placed on your around the back of your waist as she leads you to her table where her siblings are trying not to make fun of her. After a lot of begging and threats, Chiron agreed to let you sit at the Ares table for your first week at camp. “Hey guys.” Her happy tone is a rare one around her by the look on their faces, the smile even rarer as she sits you down next to her spot on the bench. “This is my wife.”

The whole room goes silent, all eyes trained on you as your eyes dart up to stare at her. “What are you-” She cuts you off with amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

“What do you want to eat, honey?” Clarisse asks you, and a son of Ares you know as Mark scoffs before he says, “The last time I asked you to get me food, you poured your drink in my lap and told me it wasn’t your job.”

The smile falls from your friend's face as she glares at him. “That’s because it isn’t my job.”

“Then why are you getting her food?” 

“Because a happy wife equals a happy life alright? Now shut the fuck up.”

The smile is back as she turns to face you again, taking your order before she leaves to get that and her own food. 

The rest of the campers go back to their meals, though they’re clearly gossiping about Clarisse’s supposed wife as they eat. It doesn’t make you feel very happy, but all the doubt is gone as your girl comes back and sits down next to you, setting the food down before her hand falls to hold your hand under the table the way she used to during lunch at school.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

A little bit later, you finish eating and join in the group of campers leaving the dining hall towards the campfire with Clarisse walking beside you. “My legs hurt.” You mumble while leaning closer to her. She doesn’t miss a beat as she picks you up bridal style, casually carrying you to the bonfire like you weigh absolutely nothing. Smiling at the sound of your laughter, she sets you down on one of the logs surrounding the fire. “What was that for? I could’ve walked.” You say as she sits down next to you before pulling you into her lap.

“What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around while in pain?” She grins before leaning her head on your shoulder. She seems happy, and you recently learned she hasn’t felt that way in a very long time so you simply smile before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers lace with yours, her thumb caressing the back of your hand as she talks to her brother. It’s like no time has passed. Although you’re still upset, it’s nice to have her again.

Clarisse makes you guys some smores, a few people coming up every once and a while to introduce themselves and your friend introduces you the same way every time; “This is my wife.” By the time you’re making your way to the Hermes cabin with her walking by your side like a bodyguard, everyone in camp is aware of the “marriage”.

“I wish you could come stay in the Ares cabin.” She mumbles into the crook of your neck on the porch of Hermes cabin, and you chuckle while rubbing circles on her back. “I think you annoyed Chiron enough for one day.”

The daughter of Ares sighs, reluctantly nodding as she gives you a gentle squeeze before walking away. You watch her walk to her cabin for a few seconds, a permanent smile on your face before you walk inside your crowded cabin.

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The next morning, it’s time for you to join in the routine of chores and training. It seems tiring, but Clarisse is by your side to help you with anything and everything so it’s okay.

“You’re getting better, hon.” She repeats for the 100th time in an hour, and your trust in her words is slowly fading as you sling the sword in your hands awkwardly towards the dummy covered in greek armor in front of you. The girl seems to notice your mood dropping, so she sighs and then stands up and walks towards you. You think she’s going to tell you to take the armor off just stop trying, but you shouldn't have. Clarisse was never one to tell you to give up on something. Instead, she places her hands on your hips, brown eyes straying from your face as she gently moves your body until you're standing in the correct way. You feel like clay under her grip, simply allowing her to position you as your face scans her features. 

It’s like something pulling you to lean in, and it’s only when you're inches away from her face do you realize she is leaning in too. As if realizing where you are and what you guys are doing, she clears her throat and backs away, her hands following to rest at her sides. “There. Try again.” She begins to awkwardly walk away, her confidence gone as she almost trips over some armor left on the floor by another camper.

You nervously laugh, taking a deep breath before you slash the sword forward again. The sword feels much more natural in your hand, and it’s almost like an instinct as you angle it so it hits the unprotected parts so it cuts open the material. 

Your friend cheers, rushing over to you and easily lifting you off the ground like you just won the olympics. Clarisse has always been that way, proud of every thing  you could ever do. With a small laugh, you thank her and finally get her to set you down. “Well done wifey.” The words flow out of Clarisse’s mouth like they’re the most natural thing, and you fake an annoyed sigh.

“You know I’m not your wife right?” You say with a laugh, but she clearly doesn’t find it very funny.

“Then what's this?” Her hand moves to grab your hand, holding it up in front of your face and you try to ignore the way butterflies explode in your stomach from the touch as her eyes lock on yours. With rose colored cheeks- you decide to blame it on the heat and not the feeling of her hand in yours- you finally take notice of what she’s talking about; the ring she bought you when you were kids, snuggly placed on your left hand ring finger. It was a bit too big when you guys were younger, but it fits basically perfectly now.

“It’s a promise ring.” You mumble, walking away to take off the armor and put away the sword. “It’s the closest thing to a wedding ring I could get. And besides, red is my favorite color, the jem is red. It’s basically me, in a ring.” “I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”

Clarisse sighs, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind the same way she did your first day at camp- though this time she doesn’t lift you up. “Sorry. Let me summarize. You’re my wife, and that is your ring.” You chuckle, turning around in her arms and trying not to think about the way you’re so close you can feel her warm breath on your face. “Fine. I’m your wife.” She takes the win, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before she makes her way out of the training grounds to go wash up for lunch.

This girl is gonna be the death of you.

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That night, Clarisse sneaks into the Hermes cabin. She’s used to sneaking out, but she’s never had a reason to sneak into this specific cabin and she almost bursts out laughing when she gets through the window and almost steps on a kid laying on a sleeping bag on the floor. 

She easily manages her way through the sleeping kids to get to your bunk in the corner, cringing every once and a while when floor boards creek. You’re awake, staring at the wall and you reach under your pillow to grab a dagger Annabeth gave you when someone puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to shake you away so you can hold it up against their neck.

“Why the hell do you have a knife to my throat?” Clarisse quietly squeaks out, and you sigh in relief before putting the weapon back under your pillow for safe keeping. “I just…I’m sorry.” You think about telling her about the nightmare you were having not even ten minutes ago, but it looks like she’s already aware of it as she sends you knowing eyes.

“You can make it up to me by following me.” One look into her pleading eyes is all you need to reluctantly agree, and she helps you out of the window and then onto her back so she can carry you to the surprise she set up in the forest.

The sight makes you want to grin and cry at the same time; it’s a picnic set on the cliff overlooking the waterfall you told her was your favorite part of camp, all your favorite foods from the outside world placed accordingly on the blanket. There are little lanterns placed all over, lighting up this specific part of the woods. You can clearly see the stars, one of your favorite things, and the cozy feeling of the date-like setting goes against the summer breeze of the night.

“So? What do you think?” Clarisse nervously asks as you look around in awe. “I….I love it Clar.” You reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “How’d you get all these foods?” You quest with a grin. She innocently shrugs, but she’s got a mischievous look in her eyes that only appears when she does something bad. She won’t tell you that she snuck out of camp the same way she snuck out of her cabin to go to the mortal world, sneaking back in a throwing herself into a bush when Mr. D almost caught her.

She sits down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her and then pulling you into her lap when you sit down. “This is so nice….but why?” “Why?” “Why’d you do it?”

Clarisse chuckles; “Because my wife deserves best.” There it is again, the phrase that brings a blush to your face no matter how many times you hear it. “Well, thank you.” She nods, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a hesitant bite before humming in satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

You two spend the rest of the night talking and giggling as you cuddle up to her and eat the delicious foods, and by the end of the night you’re lying with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair. “One day,” She starts, leaning down to kiss your forehead before she continues speaking; “I’m gonna marry you for real.”

With a small laugh, you nod, staring into her brown eyes as you sigh. “I’m okay with that.” You whisper, and for a second it seems like she’s leaning down again. It’s proven she is when her lips connect with yours. Her lips are slightly chapped since she always forgets to put on chapstick before she leaves the cabin, but that doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you like she’s been starved for years. Technically, she has been.

She pulls away, watching with a nervous smile as you attempt to catch your breath and stare up at her in awe. “Was that-was that okay?” You slowly nod, sitting up and then turning to face her before you grab her face in your hands and kiss her once again. She seems surprised, but she quickly adapts as her hands move to your hips and firmly grip them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you agreed to be my wife.” She whispers as she pulls away and leans her forehead on your own. You giggle, giving her a quick kiss in between love sick giggles. “Me too.”

She begins to talk again, but the sound of hooves galloping near and a loud voice calling out, “Who's there?!” makes her panic. Chiron. You panic as well, and you both messily pick up the empty plates and blanket, shoving it all in the basket and taking your hand in the one that isn't holding the basket.

The galloping is getting closer, and you both begin to run back into the forest- on the way back to camp but still in the opposite direction of Chiron.

You both begin to laugh as you almost trip over a branch, and you have to bite your lip and hold a hand over Clarrise's mouth so Chiron won't hear. 

You eventually make it back to the cabins, and you both slow down to a light jog as you near the Hermes cabin. She brings you back to the still open window, and helps lift you up into the slightly cold room. You take off your shoes, and are about to wish her a goodnight and go to bed when you turn around to see her lips playfully puckered. 

You chuckle, walking back to the window and giving her a small peck on the lips. “Goodnight Clar. and thank you for a wonderful night.” She smiles. “It was only wonderful because you were there. Goodnight angel.” With that, she leaves towards her own cabin, and you're left staring at her leave with a love sick smile and look in your eyes.

At the edge of the forest, Chiron watches the sweet goodnight with a small smile. “Well I'll be damned….Clarisse La Rue is a softy.” He begins walking to his own cabin with a content sigh. “But they better not sneak out again.”

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