the trees
clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
[fem!daughter of apollo reader]
summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.
warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.
word count: 2.5k
(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)
(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))
(part 2 here)
———————————————
archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.
and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.
annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.
as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.
you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.
until the red team came by, that is.
that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.
it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.
it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.
there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.
you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.
you listened carefully. you knew that voice.
you realised with a start who it was.
clarisse la rue.
fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.
you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.
regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.
the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.
from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”
they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.
you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”
you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.
you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.
slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.
“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”
they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.
“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”
you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”
she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”
“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.
a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.
they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!
with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.
as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”
you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”
she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”
you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.
she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”
that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?
she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.
“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.
you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.
and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.
she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”
if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.
once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”
“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.
her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”
your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”
she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”
her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.
it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.
you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.
“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”
call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.
she laughed at you.
you faltered slightly. “what?”
“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”
you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.
she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.
you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”
she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”
“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.
she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”
“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”
she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.
“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.
she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. ���didn’t want you to escape.”
“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.
clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”
you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”
she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”
“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.
“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.
“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.
she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”
“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”
“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”
“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”
clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”
“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”
“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.
“hey, don’t—“
she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”
your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”
“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”
“no. shut up.”
she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”
“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”
she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”
you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”
“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”
the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.
“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.
your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”
“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”
before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.
clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.
“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”
“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.
you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”
she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.
she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.
once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.
you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?
you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.
(part 2)
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