Random Oneshots

Victory in Love (Clarisse La Rue x Male Nike Reader)

The sound of clashing metal echoed through the arena, as Y/n L/n and Clarisse La Rue engaged in another fierce sparring match. The son of Nike moved with calculated precision, his sword a blur as it met Clarisse's blows. Despite her strength and relentless determination, Y/n always managed to keep just a half step ahead. The bond between them was evident in every movement—a dance of skill and strength, honed by countless hours of practice.

Clarisse, panting slightly but never willing to back down, grinned at him. "Not bad, L/n. But you're getting slow."

Y/n smirked, dodging her next strike with ease. "Maybe you're just getting faster, La Rue."

Their mock banter was familiar, a comfortable rhythm that neither of them needed to think about. Each sparring match was a test, a challenge that neither wanted to lose but both enjoyed regardless of the outcome. It was one of the many ways they connected—a shared love of competition and a mutual respect for each other's skills.

With a final twist of his wrist, Y/n disarmed Clarisse, sending her sword skidding across the ground. Before she could react, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and gently knocked her back with his shield, pinning her against the arena's boundary wall.

Clarisse scowled but there was no real anger in her eyes. "Alright, you win this round," she conceded, though her tone made it clear she would demand a rematch soon.

Y/n chuckled, leaning in just enough to press his forehead against hers. "I'll take my victory where I can get it."

For a moment, the world outside the arena seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own space. Their breaths mingled as they stood there, close enough to feel each other's warmth.

"How about we take a break?" Y/n suggested softly. "I know a spot where we can watch the sunset."

Clarisse didn't resist as he took her hand, leading her out of the arena and down towards the beach. The familiar scent of saltwater filled the air as the waves lapped gently against the shore. The sun was already beginning its descent, casting a warm orange glow across the sky.

Finding a spot on the soft sand, Y/n sat down and pulled Clarisse into his lap. She settled against him with a contented sigh, her usual tough exterior softened in this rare moment of peace. Here, away from the expectations of the camp and the pressures of being a child of Ares, she could let her guard down.

As they watched the sun dip lower on the horizon, Clarisse absentmindedly traced patterns on Y/n's arm, her tough demeanor fading into something more tender. "You know," she murmured, her voice quieter than usual, "I never thought I'd find someone who could keep up with me. But then you came along."

Y/n smiled, wrapping his arms around her more securely. "And I never thought I'd find someone who could push me to be better every single day. But you do, Clarisse. Every time."

She tilted her head to look up at him, her expression softer than anyone at camp would believe possible. "I guess we make a pretty good team then."

"The best," he agreed, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

They fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence as the last rays of sunlight disappeared, leaving the sky a deep shade of blue. The sounds of the camp were distant here, replaced by the gentle rhythm of the ocean. For a demigod, moments like these were rare—precious.

Clarisse, usually so fierce and unyielding, found herself at peace in Y/n's arms. Here, with him, she didn't have to be the daughter of Ares, the fierce warrior everyone expected her to be. She could just be Clarisse, a girl in love with a boy who made her feel like she was more than just the sum of her parentage.

And Y/n, the son of Nike, couldn't imagine a more perfect victory than the one he held in his arms.