twoidiotwriters1

[twoidiotwriters1]

We need a Portgas D Ace x F!Reader with heavyyy boob/nipple play!!!! She got huge tits and he makes her ride his thigh and he gets DRUNKKKK SUCKIN HER NIPS SO he decides to give her a nipple orgasm other than the previous one from riding his thigh

After 84 years.... sorry. -Val

It's been a long time (Portgas D. Ace x Fem! Reader)

Warnings: PURE SMUT, Only +18

Words: 2,937

“And I thought I could actually relax,” says Usopp, keeping his slingshot up. 

“What can you expect if we have an idiot for a captain,” Sanji says, looking threateningly at the man cornering us. 

“Hey!” Luffy whines. “I just wanted more food...” 

“But you forgot to pay for it. Again!” Nami says punching Luffy in the head. 

“Shut it!” I scream as I step back feeling their backs against mine, covering every blind spot. By now we are all surrounded by very angry villagers. “How are we gonna get out of this?” 

“Easy,” Zoro snorts as he puts his third sword in his mouth. “Just don’t get in my way.”  

I frown at him but before I can talk, Sanji intervenes. “What do you think you’re doing mosshead?” He grunts. 

Zoro smirks, “Stay out of my way, cook.” 

I roll my eyes as they start arguing, “Great,” I say to myself.  

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Says Luffy. “I got this.” 

“We shouldn’t be in this situation in the first place,” Nami Says.  

Luffy frowns and he turns directly to her.  

“I already said I’m sorry, Nami,” he pouts.  

I open my mouth, astonished, as the groups start to argue, ignoring the real problem. Even some of the men are confused like me. Suddenly a wall of fire appears covering us from the men, who scream scared and run away. I jump startled by the sudden interruption, so I turn back to my friends, who’re in the same state… except for Luffy. 

“Ace!” He shouts excitedly.  

Gradually, the fire dies out and disappears completely, leaving us to see that there are no longer any of the villagers. Then, another fireball lands in front of us, but this time, a young man appears when the flames fade away.  

“I thought you’d need some help,” Ace smirks tilting up his hat. 

I feel my body relax as I recognize Luffy’s big brother. But before anyone can say anything, Luffy jumps into Ace's arms in a big hug, stretching his arms around Ace’s body many times. 

“Ace!” Luffy repeats bursting into loud giggles.  

“G-good to s-see ya’ too,” Ace struggles to speak.  

Luffy eases his grip, but still clings to his body. We laugh at the scene and we walk closer to greet him. When Ace’s eyes fix on mine, I feel a familiar shiver through my body. I smile at him.  

“Thanks for saving us.” 

He smirks and winks at me. “Anytime.” 

After we walk back to the ship, we insist on inviting Ace to spend some days with the crew. Of course, he accepted gladly. (Luffy didn’t give him other choice, though). Luffy shows Ace every corner of the Sunny, and he explains every crew member’s role in it. He tells him the stories of our great adventures while Ace hears carefully. It’s obvious that they missed each other and needed brotherly time. It was adorable. But that also means that Ace can’t be alone!  

Luffy’s practically glued to him. And if it isn’t Luffy, Ace being the polite son of a bitch, he always offers himself to help others. He cooks with Sanji, trains with Zoro, jokes with Usopp, Chopper, and Brooke. Or talking with Nami and Robin. It’s impossible to have a moment alone with him, and that frustrates me, more than I would like to admit.  

“Well, it sounds like you want to resolve some unfinished business with him, uh?” Nami teases me and I roll my eyes.  

Robin giggles. “Last time you two seemed to share a special connection...”  

I sigh as I feel myself blush. Last time I saw Ace, we talked for hours about everything. I was amazed that is was so easy to joke with him and I was so comfortable around him, even though I knew him for a little amount of time. He made me laugh so hard… and I got to know him better…and yeah, we also made out… a lot.  

It’s obvious I was attracted to him the second Luffy introduced him. How could I not? He’s undoubtedly hot, and charming. But he’s also, polite, funny, kind… Robin’s right, I feel a strong connection with him. 

I shake my head and shrug. “I guess.” 

The girls laugh. “Seems like you need help,” Nami says as she looks at Robin. 

I look at them confused, but they change the subject quickly.  

** 

One day, Nami asks me for help to look for a navigation book, but when I enter the ship’s library I find a pleasant surprise. Ace’s sitting on the ground, surround by many piles of books. He hears me and raises his head. “Hey!” he says with a big smile.  

I give him a small smile too, but I frown as I close the door. “Hi,” I walk to him. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, Robin asked to look for a very important book, and as you can see,” he says pointing at the book piles. “I’m still on it,” he chuckles. 

I laugh too and then I realize that Robin and Nami are involved in this situation, thinking about our last conversation. I can’t help but smile a little. “Do you need help?” I ask, walking closer to him and I sit on the armrest of the couch in front of him. 

He chuckles standing up with a book in hand. “Don’t worry, I got it,” he walks to the bookshelf behind the couch. “But you can stay,” he says facing the bookshelf. “I don’t mind.” 

I nod suppressing a smile. “It has been a while since we talked, alone.” I say pretending to be chill. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says moving different books. “I’m sorry, Luffy’s has been-“ 

“You don’t have to apologize, I get it,” I interrupt him. Then I feel my face blush as I speak. “I was starting to feel jealous,” I snort holding my nerves, “you know, fighting with everyone for your attention...”  

I look at him and I notice his back tense as he stops in his tracks. Just with one book in hand, he turns to me with a mischievous smirk. He walks slowly to me, with a wicked moving of hips until he stands close. “Believe me, doll. You don’t need to fight for something that already belongs to you.”  

I smile, feeling my face warm. “It’s getting harder these days...”  

He steps back opening his arms. “Worry no more, princess,” he says tossing away the book in his hand making me laugh. He smiles and offers me a hand; I take it and he pulls me to him so our chests collide. 

I gasp at the movement and raise my head to look into his black eyes. My heart races at every detail I had forgotten I had seen before. His freckles, his nose, his scent and his warm body.  

“So, did you miss me?” he says with a funny smirk.  

My hands shyly move to his naked chest up to his shoulders, one of then grabs the back of his neck and plays with his hair. It feels like they’re remembering too. “I did,” I whisper.  

He smirks leaning until our noses touch. “I’ve missed you too,” he whispers as he leans closer to finally kiss me softly.  

We move our lips slowly, covering every inch of each other. His hands grab my waist to pull me closer to his body. “Fuck,” he groans, moving away from my lips slightly. “I missed these sweet lips,” he says, raising his hand to pass his thumb over my lower lip. 

I smirk, raising my eyebrow. “Bet you say that to every girl...”  

He moves his head back slightly and frowns for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head. “No one else has these lips, doll.” His words make my smile disappear as he moves closer again. “No one has a scent as intoxicating as yours,” he says, starting a path of kisses from my cheek to my jaw and then my neck, where he kisses that sweet spot he knows so well. “Oh, the sweet noises you make...” he practically moans and kisses my neck again, making me tremble. 

His hands travel all the way to my hips to pull me closer. “No skin is smooth as yours, sweetheart,” he says as he snakes a hand under my shirt.  

By now, my whole body is melting against his, but I'm also moving almost desperately, craving more contact, more friction, more of him.  

“Needy,” he mocks returning from my neck. 

“Shut up,” I say breathless as I kiss him.  

He smiles against my lips before pushing me carefully towards the bookshelves. When my back hits the shelves, a few books fall down. My mind is elsewhere when Ace moves his right leg between mine and presses against my clothed crotch. 

“Ace...” I whine.  

“Sensitive, aren’t we?” 

I nod and sigh. “It's been so long.” 

His thigh and my hips find a steady rhythm. 

“Really?” he says, looking down at me. “There’s no other fellow in your life?” 

I shake my head. “No… fuck, no,” I moan. 

He smiles, pleased with my answer. He moves his hand down to my shorts, unbuckles them and moves his hand inside them and my panties straight to my clit. “So...” he hisses. “You have been my good girl, uh?” He asks as he makes circles on my sensitive bud, making me gasp.  

I nod. “Y-yeah...” 

“Yeah, my good girl,” he leans forward to rest his head on my shoulder. “Even though, I’ve been neglecting you...” His hand moved to carefully make way for his middle finger inside me. 

“My girl...” he moans. “You deserve everything.” 

“Ace!” I moan louder as he adds a second finger. 

“Riding my thigh… clenching around my fingers...” 

It’s too much. I can hear my heart beating wildly and feel my body seeking more air, but it turns into moans, whimpers, and pleas. My hips move uncontrollably in response to his thick thigh and fingers. 

“Cum for me, my sweet girl.” 

His deep voice is the final thing that brings me to a finish with a whining moan. The library is silent, and only our uneven breathing can be heard. My legs are trembling, so I hold onto Ace’s bicep and rest my head on his shoulder. 

“You okay, darling?” he asks.  

“Y-yeah, I just...” I breathe. “Need a sec...” I say as I let my whole body against Ace’s.  

He chuckles. “I’m gonna take out my fingers.” I nod. Then, he moves his leg so he can hold me steady by the waist. “Don’t tell me you’re already tired,” he mocks.  

I frown, still hiding on his shoulder. “I said I just need a second!” He chuckles again.  

“That’s my girl,” he says proudly to then, carry me and walk to the couch. He sits and puts me on his lap, each leg around him. 

I sit straight and I take a moment to look at him. His swollen lips, couple of hickeys and his flush cheeks. I smile and lean forward to kiss him again. This time, the kiss is hungry, desperate and messy. His hands caress my bare thighs, and as the kiss deepens, he grabs my ass and pulls me closer. 

“Fuck,” I moan on his lips. “I really missed you, Ace.” 

He chuckles. “I missed you too, Darling,” then his smile disappears. “But, I have to be honest with you...” I frown and then I squeak when he lets his head fall to my chest.  

“Ace!” I say, concerned that he might have fallen asleep. But then I feel his hands moving quickly under my shirt, grabbing my tits up, so he can kiss the valley over the cleavage of my shirt. I can't help but burst out laughing. 

“You have no idea how much I missed these tits...” he whines dramatically, and I laugh again. He raises his head, still resting on my breasts to look at me with a pout.  

I shake my head and caress his black locks on the back of his neck, “You’re silly,” I giggle, but he keeps the puppy eyes. “Fine,” I sigh and move so he lets me go and I take off my shirt, but then I look down with a frown. “Did you undo my bra?” 

He smiles like a little kid in trouble. “I wanted to help you.”  

I roll my eyes and chuckle as I take off the last clothes on my upper body. The movement makes my breasts jiggle, and I notice Ace looking at them in awe as he licks his lips.  

I giggle. “You okay?” 

He blinks many times. “I- uh...” he stutters. 

“It's ok, Ace. You can touch them,” and that's all it takes for him to grab my breasts. He massages, squeezes, and plays with my nipples, making me lose my mind. 

“Can I kiss them?” he says desperately. 

“Yes!” 

“What about my tongue? Can I?” 

“Fuck, it’s not the time to be fucking respectful, Ace,” He looks at me like he’s out of the spell, he stays silent for a second and then he laughs.  

“Forget that you’re sensitive sinc-“ 

“Do whatever you want, but do it now, Ace,” I cut him and demand his touch. He looks surprise, but he doesn’t wait to attach his lips to my right nipple.  

He takes care of my needy breasts, never neglected the other while he sucks one. He eats, like a starved man. And I arc my back to give him all access to my body. I realise that our hips are moving against each other, seeking more friction. I feel his hard bulge pressing against my crotch. 

Everything is so vulnerable, exposed and needy that it's overwhelming. When he grabs my breasts to push them together and put his face between them to lick, he whines loudly in delight. I feel a pinch bulging in my low belly. 

“Ace...” I call him.  

He hums and looks up to me. He immediately knows what’s gonna happen. “Are you gonna cum for me again, doll?” 

“U-hu,” I nod. 

“Shit, you look so hot, needy and-“ I cut him again as I grab the back of his neck and pull him back to my chest.  

“Keep going, I’m so close...”  

He obeys, gladly. He sucks again and he helps me to reach the climax, moving his hips upwards to increase friction.  

“Ace!” 

“Fuck, I’m cumming too...” he confesses, and that makes me finish again. He groans, moving his hips slowly a couple more times before stopping and breathing heavily. “Guess, I’m sensitive too,” he says after minutes of silence.  

We look at each other and chuckle. I move back a little and I grab his shorts to unbuckle them. “You want more, already?” he asks half flirt, half unsure.  

I smile. “It’s your turn,” but then, he grabs my writs to stop me.  

“As good as that sounds,” he grabs me by my waist and helps me to stand. “I can’t wait any longer to be inside of you,” he groans.  

My legs are shaking and my pussy aches for more, so I just nod, and we both quickly undress fully. Ace sits down again and I follow him to his lap. He pumps his cock and with his other hand, grabs my hip as I slowly move down. We gasp and groan when he’s fully inside me. I wait for a while, enjoying his thick cock after so many years. My body has to get used to him again. 

Ace whines. “Fuck! Cant’ believe I say this, but I’m so close already...”  

I giggle and move my hips up and down slowly. “Me too,” I moan. I start to increase my speed and he moves up to meet me, but I quickly feel my legs getting tired after all of this, even thought I want to fuck him faster.  

Ace notice this, of course. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he says as he manhandles me to lay me on my back on the couch without taking himself out. He increases his thrusts and we both moan loudly. With skin against skin, the couch creaks with our movements and it doesn’t take long for me to finish again, and he shortly follows me.  

His body falls on top of mine without hurting me and he hugs me while his head hides between my shoulder and my neck. “I gotta say,” he whispers. “That it was worth the wait.” 

I chuckle. “Yeah, I think so too.” 

I sigh deeply, enjoying what just happened, and close my eyes to focus on Ace's sweaty skin against mine, his breathing trying to regulate itself, and his heartbeat. But the moment is completely ruined when we hear Luffy's voice outside the library. 

“Oi! Have anyone seen Ace?” 

My heart races, and Ace sits up enough to lean back in the armchair and turns towards the door. I gasp when he extends his arm and directs fire directly at the door handle, heating it up. The next thing we hear is a loud cry of pain from the captain. 

“Ace?” He turns back to me.  

“Don’t worry, that’ll be enough to keep him away for a while,” he smirks. 

I chuckle as I move to start looking for my clothes, but his hand stops me and pushes me slowly back to the couch. 

“What are you doing?” I frown and I open my mouth to talk, but he cuts me. “I said for a while, meaning, we have more time, doll...” 

I shake my head and chuckle as he leans to kiss me. 

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 34. A Minute of Sunshine

Summary: It feels like a lifetime has passed in just a week. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,792 Listen to: 'Still Falling For You' -by Ellie Goulding A/N: Only 6 chapters to go! -Danny

It was a particularly confusing hell, having to sit there and take Marie and Paula's teasing after she told your sister all about what had transpired that morning. You didn't tell them about the night prior, that it'd made you feel human, not a mere vessel for your country's plans. And that morning kiss... he'd given it away so freely, so lovingly... You came out of the room floating and giddy, with a healthy flush on your cheeks and a skip in your step.

You sit by your mother's side, hoping you look as you always do, and not as the pleased, recently felt woman that you are. Your eyes find Benedict's, four seats down the line in front of you. A ghost of a smile forms on his lips as he catches your gaze, and you return it openly.

Lord Dickens and your brothers walk in, and the twins greet Benedict warmly when they get to him, though the same can't be said of Arthur, who is less happy with the kettle-head's presence since the gossip column called him your suitor. Queen Mia starts a conversation, each attendee taking a moment to speak. 

"What about you, Princess Y/N?" asks Sir Ford, one of the eldest scholars of your country.

You blink, completely caught off guard since you'd lost yourself in last night's memories. "Pardon?"

"Next year, you'll be a year closer to the throne. Twenty-seven is the perfect age to announce your campaign."

"My campaign...?" You perk up. "Oh! You mean the branch I'll choose to focus on during my reign?"

"Precisely."

"The Princess has time to decide," Queen Mia interjects. "She only turned 26 last spring."

"Actually," you adopt a well-rehearsed queenly manner, discovering on the go that you can tackle several problems with a single answer, "besides continuing to provide a good life for all Genovians, I have decided to focus on the arts."

Stunned silence follows your proclamation. Then Lady Lily, your aunt, dares to be the first to question your decision. "But we have no artists in Genovia..."

"Precisely," you continue, "Genovia needs to give the arts a proper place in society."

"But aren't the arts..." a gentleman mulls, "a bit pointless?"

You turn to Benedict. "Mr Bridgerton, feel free to speak your mind. That is, after all, the reason I invited you this year."

Benedict frowns for a fraction of a second, confused, but he recovers efficiently when he notices the slightest shift on your brow. "The arts give shape to abstract concepts of the human mind. They give a face and a name to what we can't touch, and unlike science, could be understood by everyone. It doesn't need translation, or to be dissected, though it's fun to do so, sometimes. Genovia could benefit greatly from a rounded program and commendable professors..."

"As of now, we are a one-way country," you assert. "There will be a time when science and research won't be enough to keep our people happy. We should feed their souls, as well as their minds. Not everyone is born to be an inventor or an academic, and I hate to think some of my subjects consider their desires less important simply because they don't feel seen."

"Your Royal Highness, what you say sounds fair," a lady scholar chimes in. "But you had shown no interest in pursuing this path, and seemed quite happy amongst us..." She looks at Lord Dickens. "We thought that you were... engaged in it."

"I do not hate science, I'm just more interested in the arts, that's all," You say with a little bemused tilt in your voice. "Mr Bridgerton's dedication to the craft made me realise Genovia needs a bridge between mind and heart. I would love nothing more than to have more people like him in our country. Visionaries."

Arthur Dickens understands he's lost far more than just his role as your escort. Queen Mia looks at the sparkle in your eye and your flushed cheeks, and her motherly intuition puts together every clue you've left for her to find.

Benedict Bridgerton is staring at you with open bashfulness and passion, and it gives him away to the room, but they're not the only ones discovering his feelings. The man is admitting to himself just now that he's irrevocably and desperately fallen in love with you.

Dear Diary,

Tonight, we host our farewell dinner to conclude the celebration of the twins' birthday. I have given a public statement and officially begun my campaign, and now I've locked myself in the library, fearful of what my family thinks of me. Benedict looked proud, and that soothes me, but my mother was silent. If only my father had been there, he would've been able to tell me what my mother was thinking, but alas! I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

It feels like a lifetime has passed in just a week. I'm an entirely different person from who I was before going to London... Oh, and poor Arthur, Lady Page was so tactless! But it was then or never, and I think Arthur wouldn't have believed me unless I expressed myself in front of a crowd. He can be deliberately obtuse, and he's been so for years on end; it had to stop at some point.

I can ascend to the throne knowing that I'll be adding to the betterment of our nation. Now... I will try to enjoy what little time I have left with Ben.

Trouble finds you as soon as you vacate the library. Everyone is in the ballroom, chatting happily as they admire the band and discuss your announcement with interest. You're walking to where your parents are, when Arthur gets in your way, looking miffed. "I request an audience with Your Royal Highness."

Your stomach churns with anxiety, but you grant him the chance to have proper closure. "You shall have it."

He guides you to a side entrance and stands by the stone balustrade, placing one gloved hand on it and staring at the garden with an unreadable expression. You remain a few steps away, hands clasped together in patient waiting. 

"I spoke to your father this morning," he says. "I don't think I need to explain it at this point. You've heard the rumours... I should've been prudent, but foolish me thought you were as eager as I was to announce our engagement..."

"In all honesty, I don't understand why on earth you thought I'd be."

His tense smile vanishes at once and gets replaced with a scowl. "You jest?"

You lose your temper a bit. "Do you jest, Lord Dickens? I see you once a year—twice if you feel generous, and I was never asked if I wanted your attentions."

"We shared a bed!" He whispers in outrage.

"For half an hour!" You reply in the same way, dropping formalities. "That's hardly a love declaration, Arthur!"

"You've always known I care for you," he replies stubbornly. 

"And what was I to do? You only hinted at it, and I was too considerate to embarrass you. I didn't know if you wanted me to address it!"

"I think," he says haughtily, "you couldn't rid of your simpering fool until you were sure you had a better one."

"Oh, yes, because you were around so often," you retort sarcastically. "That one week a year was truly a driving force in my daily life."

"You mock me," he says bitterly, "but I know it to be true. No one else would take my spot, you were a spectacle, but I never minded it!"

"You minded it enough to notice it and use it now," you retort. "Men act with decency and not for personal interests. If you are disappointed, it was entirely your fault. I never promised you my favour."

"That pansy Kettle-head isn't going to stay!" He exclaims. "He's an artist, can't be taken by his word—he won't give up his fancies!"

"I know it won't last, won't have a neat ending, but that is my preference. Yours was to stay silent. I have always known that I do not love you, and had you proposed to me this summer or three years ago, the answer would've been no."

"You're making a mistake," Lord Dickens insists tensely. "A man like him can't be relied upon."

"Because he likes drawing?" You ask ironically. "Because he prefers poetry over academic publications? That is senseless."

"He's a commoner."

"His blood is irrelevant!"

"He'll never marry for love!"

You glare at him, then stare at the garden, taking a calming breath. "What was my father's answer when you spoke to him?"

"It does not matter."

"He advised you not to follow through with this, didn't he?"

"No."

"I know he did," you continue, "because he knows I don't care for you. My entire family knows, Arthur. If Benedict does not love me, I can understand, given the brevity of our relationship and its dynamic, but you have no excuse to be this hateful."

He's frustrated, but you know it's not your fault that he clung to such a fine thread, and you must put distance between you. You do not want to listen to any more of his lamentations. Excusing yourself briskly and returning to the ballroom, you find Benedict and cling to his arm tightly. He senses your humour and speaks softly. "Are you well?"

"Arthur," you say vaguely.

Benedict bites his lip, trying to hold back, but curiosity is too great to move past it. "Has he proposed at last?"

"That man fears confrontation so much he managed to have a whole argument over a proposal that was never made, and therefore never rejected, but he got on his high horse as if it all had been established!"

Benedict fights back a smile. "So you said no?"

"Knowing what you know, did you think there was a chance of me saying yes?" You ask grumpily.

"I didn't want to assume," Benedict replies promptly, though he was certainly hoping this to be the outcome.

"That's the difference between you and tiny Dickens," you say, a mix of pride and vexation. "You never assume you know how I feel about anything."

"Not without some difficulty," he chuckles. "You tell me what you want when I don't seem to get it, and you seem to know what I will ask before it even occurs to me."

"Yes, one can almost think that spending time together has an actual purpose and it's not just for fun," you reply, sulking and not paying much attention to the conversation happening at present.

"Indeed," Benedict smiles, because you came to him, not your family, to seek comfort after your falling out with Lord Dickens. "Would you like to dance?"

"Not really, so you'd do me a great service if we avoid my father for the rest of the night..." You pause, then look up in astonishment. "You wish to dance?"

"Yes," he laughs lightly.

"Oh. Yes, I'll dance." You blush, and your entire mood changes from sulky to bashful, and how he loves it... and God, how he'll miss it.

Next Chapter –>

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We'll be taking requests for drabbles and blurbs of all our current fandoms!

Rules: Send a song, prompt, or scenario + a character/fandom, can be anything from angst to smut, just clarify what you'd like or don't want 😋✨

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Congrats on 1k! If you're still taking marauders requests can you make one with We can't be friends by Ariana Grande with James Potter?? Ty! 💛

Hi! Sure we can 😌🤝🏻

When you walked through the Portrait hole, weary from the time spent burying your nose in page after page of Transfiguration studies, you weren't expecting to see a whole party going on in the common room. But you understood why James didn't show up tonight to your study sessions.

It feels as if that's all you do with him lately, understand.

Understand that he's got Headboy duties, Captain duties, and he also got other friends, and lessons, and... He's got Lily, too. And you understand, of course. You always knew life would get busy and he would grow up, and a little part of you always suspected he'd become something totally foreign to who you were.

Still, there was also a little part of you that kept hoping his crush on Lily would be one of the things he would grow out of. But alas, that was one thing that seemed to be deeply engrained into who James Potter was as a whole.

Where did that leave you, then? More importantly, what did it mean for the things you felt for him?

"All right, y/n?" Asked the man of the hour, plopping down on the armrest of your chair with a graceful laziness to it. "You look tired. You must've burned your lashes with all that reading..." He joked, taking a casual swig of his butterbeer.

Ah, so he did remember... He just didn't feel like showing up.

You're in the mood to make him feel guilty, or at least try to. After all, you're always doing everything to accomodate him. "I could've left the library earlier, but I kept waiting for you to show up."

James frowns like that's the most nonsensical thing to say. "Why on earth would you do that? I've told you, if I don't show within the first five minutes, I don't show at all. I don't like to make people wait."

"Doesn't seem like it," You mutter, sinking on your seat. Then you raise your voice again so he can hear you over the party noise. "You could've at least sent a message. Or told me beforehand you weren't planning to show at all."

James shrugged looking mildly surprised. "Didn't think much of it, honest. You do those study sessions without me all the time, I didn't think it mattered if I showed or not."

"Well, it's not that, it's more about... About being nice to me."

"Nice?" James laughed and looked down at you as if you were truly spouting nonsense. "Why, y/n, it's just a study session, really, no one's getting married. You can do without me, I know it."

Your argument dies before it reaches your lips, because you would rather not do without him, truly. But the thing is, when James talks that way about you, he's talking about himself.

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Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Okay so now the real fun can begin-Danny Words: 2,318 Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, graphic depictions of violence Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'you should see me in a crown' -by Billie Eilish

LIV: Damn Lester, I Think We're Gonna Have to Kill This Guy

I show up at the very last boat, right in front of a group of pandai. I've barely thought about killing them when my hands are already halfway through getting it done, and I stop in surprise.

"Oh. So it's that easy for you guys, is it?" I glare up at the sky. Zeus didn't drop me here randomly, he's testing me.

Being a goddess means a lot of mental work—by that, I don't mean meditation, but rather turning thoughts into actions. I have to be careful now that I can speak things into existence. I skip from yacht to yacht, killing monsters and willing engines to overheat, lighting up tanks on fire just by imagining they are. I look at cyclops, and it's enough to turn them into clay dolls. So much power, and it's on me to use it wisely, within my domain, following the rules I instinctively know I ought to obey.

There are things I can't do. I can't change forms, for one. Unless I'm turning into pure essence, but that's too destructive, so of course I won't be doing that. I can't bring people back from the dead. I can be killed, I don't sweat, don't pull in air into my lungs—do I even have lungs? I'm alive, but not like a human.

As I take yacht after yacht, my consciousness slips away, like a demigod dream, and I find my friends.

"You see, Apollo?" The emperor is saying. "I'm not crazy. I'm not cruel. I just take people at their word. If you promise me your life, or your heart, or your wealth... then you should mean it, don't you think? Your friend Piper, for instance. She wanted to spend time with her dad. She resented his career. So, guess what? I took that career away! If she'd just gone to Oklahoma with him, like they'd planned, she could've got what she wanted! But does she thank me? No. She comes here to kill me."

"I will. Take my word on that." Piper growls.

"Exactly my point—No gratitude. And Jason Grace? He wants to be a priest or something, build shrines to the gods. Fine! I am a god. I have no problem with that! Then he comes here to wreck my yachts with lightning. Is that priestlike behaviour? I don't think so. And this one," he points at a whirlwind of clouds where Meg is trapped. "Her father once swore he wouldn't rest until he reincarnated the blood-born, the silver wives! Can you believe it?"

He turns with a smile, Lester and Piper are kneeling before him, and Piper is badly beaten.

"Well, of course I took Dr McCaffrey at his word! I burned his stronghold to the ground. But, honestly, I thought I was quite generous to let him and his daughter live. Little Meg had a wonderful life with my nephew Nero. If she'd just kept her promises to him..."

"Hey, Big C? Great speech and all. But shouldn't we kill the two in the whirlwinds so Medea can turn her attention to flaying Lester alive? I really want to see that."

I focus back on what I'm doing, I've almost reached their yacht. "Too bad, Spirit. There will be no demigod killings today."

Caligula slaps Piper so hard she falls back. Lester gets blinded by rage and pounces, but the emperor merely glances at him and throws him back to the ground. "Please, Lester, you're embarrassing yourself."

Arae, Lester thinks with all his might. Please hurry, we need you!

I hear you. Answers a voice. Sorry I'm late, your dad is an asshole.

BOOM!

The doors burst open, one of them throwing Medea against the wall, the other instantly killing the pandai guarding the throne room. Through the cloud of dust enters Ara, holding Almighty as a spear.

"Touch any of them again," she says, keeping her eyes on Caligula. "And I'll make you eat your own fingers."

She's not wearing the same clothes from an hour ago, but she's not in armour either. Her purple cape flies freely, and when she steps forward, Lester realizes the old Omega has been replaced: a π is now in the middle of her back, and around it, her blessings display the reach of her power. 

A new addition has been embroidered: Pan's pipes. Ara's hair is longer and lush, and her laurel crown adorns it. Her eyes are fierce and dark, with golden specks shining in them. "Arae Pantodýnamos," Lester says in awe. "The Almighty Curse..."

Caligula's smile falters. "I see one of you's been busy," he says, then asks Medea. "Can we still take her essence?"

"It'll be easier, my lord," she pants, crawling from under the debris. "There is no human carcass to dig through now."

"Excellent! That's better, that's showing some appreciation, making our jobs easier! Thank you so much, Strategus."

"I'm not here to serve you," she replies, walking forth.

"I think you are," the emperor points at Jason and Meg, both trapped in venti. "Unless you want me to shred those two?"

Ara stops and frowns. She looks at them, but makes no move to save them, and Lester understands. She's a goddess; she needs to be requested to participate, and Meg is too busy screaming and fighting while Jason has his eyes closed, ignoring his surroundings. It's up to him. Stupidly, oh so stupidly, the human in Lester resists it. 

Ask Ara for help? Your father is an asshole, she'd said. Meaning she'd been at Olympus. She probably fought her way back, just for him to point a finger at Caligula and go Kill him for me, please! 

No, Lester is done using others. He grabs an arrow and presses it against his chest. 

Caligula scowls. "Lester... what are you doing?"

"Let my friends go. All of them, Ara included. Then you can have me."

"And if I don't?"

Lester swallows thickly. "I'll kill myself."

I can't let Lester die. If he dies, then I die too.

"No—!"

"Your duty is to demigods," he says firmly. "Leave me."

Caligula scoffs. "You don't have a self-sacrificing instinct in your body!"

"Let them go," he pushes the arrow in slightly. "Or you'll never be the sun god."

"Lester, if you die, the fates take me too," I tell him in a steady yet lightly anxious voice. "Your father made it so."

The emperor considers this bit of convenient information. "Oh, Medea, if he kills himself in this fashion, can you still do your magic?"

"You know I can't. It's a complicated ritual! We can't have him murdering himself in some sloppy way before I'm prepared."

I look at the sorceress and get a sting of irritation. It's strange how mild my emotions are, how distant everything feels. "You know, I'm getting tired of you getting up after I throw stuff at you."

"A new goddess," Medea sneers. "They let anyone in nowadays."

"Funny! I was thinking the same thing."

"Look, Apollo, you can't expect this will have a happy ending," Caligula reasons. "I am not Commodus. I'm not playing a game. Be a nice boy and let Medea kill you in the correct way. Then I'll give these others a painless death. That's my best offer."

"Here's another offer," I say, lifting my spear. "I kill you now, and save you the embarrassment of watching half your fleet sink before sunrise."

Caligula's eyes flash with annoyance. "What?"

"I might've done a few stops on my way here," I shrug nonchalantly. "All your ruined toys have been offered to Poseidon, so he's probably taking them as we speak—Oh! Also," I smile. "Your little party at Camp Jupiter? Yeah, it fell through."

Caligula's vein pops on his neck. "No matter! I'll take care of it myself as soon as I become the sun god. And you, Ara Jackson, will become my pet for eternity."

"You are too old to be beefing with a teen," I turn to my old friend. "Jason Grace, I've been called to action. Are you in need of assistance?"

The boy opens his eyes. I know he's able to hear me through the noise, and he responds directly into my mind. Yes. Set me free, then we rip them apart.

I smirk. "You got it." I lift my spear, and lightning directly hits Jason's enclosure, vaporizing the venti. Incitatus races to trample the young girl, and I throw my spear at him, piercing his throat. "You think you're cruel, Booty-shorts?" I stride towards the injured horse. "I'll be a teenage girl for eternity, you have no idea what true cruelty looks like!" I pull out the spear and turn it into a spatha, beheading the animal in one sharp motion.

"NO!" Caligula pounces on Lester, but the boy forces the arrow through his chest. 

At the same time, my knees buckle, and I slip on the pile of dust Incitatus left behind. "Lester, no!" I gasp, my own chest burning.

Jason picks me up. "Ara, help me fight Caligula!"

The plea overrides my pain momentarily. I stretch out my hand and Almighty flees back to it. "Meg, protect Piper! Crest, you cover her back!" I shout, not sure if the pandos will listen to me, but hoping he's scared enough to do so.

Medea reaches Lester, but she's not going to kill him, she'll try to save him first, since they need him in perfect health for her spell to work. 

"Break the floor!" I tell Jason, and he summons lightning, dividing the boat so Caligula is stuck with us. The yacht starts to sink, and I speak mockingly. "That's yacht number twelve we break today! Man, you need to start making these more resilient!"

"You are nothing to me, foolish girl! You and your little mortal friend are like twigs on my path!"

"I'm a goddess, apple-bottom," I reply. "A puny, outdated emperor is no challenge for me. What say you, Ken, are you a twig?"

"I'm Jason Grace," he replies, eyes flaring. "Former praetor of the Twelfth Legion. Son of Jupiter. Child of Rome, but I belong to both camps. And I am your priest, Almighty Ara."

"There you have it, butt-boy," I vanish my sword and turn to Caligula.

He snarls at Jason. "I'll hold you responsible for Camp Jupiter's treason tonight—and you, you'll be the first Olympian I'll bring to ruin." He picks up a spear and pounces. 

I press my hand on Jason's back and mumble. "I will keep you safe. Go!"

Piper comes out of her dazzled state and attacks Medea, who has managed to stabilise Lester. I look for Meg and notice she's making sure no guards come through to help Caligula, though they wouldn't be able to reach us even if they tried, the rupture is widening. Caligula can't escape, and neither can Jason, but unlike the emperor, my demigod isn't alone.

"Get out of here!" Jason tells the others. "Go!" An arrow pierces his leg. I glance at the pandai peering from above us on the crack in the ceiling. I transport to that floor, tossing Almighty and skewing them together in a single throw.

"I told you this isn't a game!" Caligula screams from below. "You don't walk away from me alive!"

I toss a water bomb and the pandai that are left on this level and come back to Jason. He has another arrow stuck on his bicep, and in Caligula's eyes, I see a frenzy to destroy, an urgency to feel blood on his hands so powerful that when he tosses the spear and I stop it with my shield, it goes right through and cuts across my forearm, reaching my chest. I gasp, but I can't move, my own sword has stuck in Caligula's side. He screams, and I toss my shield away to have more room, splitting his spear in half.

"Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus," I pant, pulling Almighty's blade from his ribcage and placing it against his throat when he stumbles forth. "You have failed Rome, and you're a sour loser. Goodbye."

I cut his throat and kick him into the sea, feeling nothing but the certainty that I've done my duty.

I took care of everything after that. I held Jason and he summoned Tempest and asked the horse spirit to take Lester and Piper and follow us away. They grabbed Meg and flew out. 

The pandai were too busy trying to rescue Caligula's corpse to attack us on our way out, and Medea was nowhere to be seen. When we reached the shore, Crest was waiting for us. I didn't question his presence because everyone else seemed okay with having him around, and I walked until we reached the van. I drove.

"Where are we going?" Lester asks me in a small voice. I can't blame him for being a little scared of me after watching me finish a man in cold blood.

"Piper's place first, she's been hurt, and she'll be safe there for now. Caligula won't come back, and his horse is dead too. Jason's school is the next stop, we leave the van where we found it, and get his things," I glance at the boy through the rearview mirror. "You'll go to live with Leo, where no emperors can reach you."

Jason didn't argue with me this time; he looked dejected, all wrapped in bandages. I couldn't blame him either.

Piper's dad took her without asking questions after I said 'skate accident', he almost seemed glad to be able to do something good and tend to his daughter. Before leaving her in good hands, I took Piper aside to speak.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved before. I could offer a whole catalog of excuses as to why I snapped, but they're not relevant. I apologize for everything, period."

Piper hugs me tight. "Apology accepted. Will I ever see you again, after all of this is done?"

"You will see me again many times," I reply with certainty, and I make a point to keep an easy smile on my face. "You will always have my support, too. And Piper... there is no rush to understand everything one is all at once," I add carefully. "Be patient with yourself."

Her eyes grow misty, and she hugs me again. "You too."

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Chapter 33. Double Reds

Summary: He lets out a choked laugh, remembering telling you he worshipped God's work when he was intimate with someone, but this is what true adoration looks and feels like, and he's terrified of it. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,917 Warnings: Nudity and one (1) mention of spit, some biting, mostly just romance once again. I'm not putting the divider in this one bc honestly it's mild Listen to: 'Sailor Song' -by Gigi Perez A/N: Oh, to haunt a man like Benedict -Danny

It wasn't Benedict's intention to visit your room after dinner, but his heart demanded he leave his room and search for you once everything got quiet. The guilt was getting heavier with each passing minute, and he couldn't stand it after the clock struck midnight. He makes his way through the castle at a slow, disheartened pace. 

He walks without needing a candle, the moonlight coming bright with the smell of ripe fruit from the gardens, and the hallways wide enough for him to move without running into things. When he reaches the main staircase, Benedict pauses to look at the paintings, made at least a whole decade ago. 

In the middle hangs one of your entire family: the twins seated on the rug playing with wooden horses, Marie next to them, holding a porcelain doll, and then there's you, not older than fifteen, with a beautiful pink dress and your hair adorned with a small tiara, hands gracefully folded on your lap. Your father is standing next to your mother's throne, arms behind his back and looking thoroughly pleased with himself, as if being in the painting is victory enough.

Benedict wonders what it means to be content with the role you've been given in life, to want nothing more than what's already in front of you. But then again, King Nicholas wasn't a prince before marrying your mother; he simply got lucky enough to marry a princess... He rids himself of that thought instantly, so dangerously close to what's forbidden. His eyes go back to you, the light in your eyes and that innocent expression on your face that seems to ask him, Isn't life wonderful? 

He finds himself replying in a gentle whisper. "You are what makes it so..." Benedict resumes his walk, more determined than before, and finds the large door to your rooms. It gives in easily, not even creaking as he walks in. His mouth is dry now that he's there, and he doesn't know how to explain what he's doing here at this hour. 

He approaches the bed, and what he sees pierces right through his heart. The gutwrenching thought that he'll never get to share your bed in an honest way sneaks up on him. He's appalled to be your secret, to become one day, when you marry, just a tender memory of youth.

The room is darker than the hallway, and the man stumbles with a footstool that sends him toppling onto your bed. You pull in air sharply and scramble to a sitting position, alarmed and ready to scream, when Benedict's hands cover your mouth in panic. "It's me!" He whispers urgently. "I didn't mean to fall on you!" 

You scoot over to the middle of the bed so he can sit beside you. "What are you doing here?"

The answer comes easily now that he's looking at you. "Eloise trusted me with her dreams, and I failed her." Saying it aloud triggers a visceral reaction, and his eyes grow dewy. It takes you longer than usual to notice this, thanks to the darkness of the room, but when you do, your arms wrap around him tightly. 

"Oh, Ben..." You gently place his head on your shoulder. "What happened?"

His hands are clutching your camisole, and he's unable to speak with clarity at first, so you whisper words of comfort and run your hand through his hair, pressing gentle kisses on it until he calms down and pulls back to clean his tear-stained face with his sleeve. Benedict glances at you, mumbling a half-hearted apology. 

"No need to be sorry," you cup his cheek. "Do you feel better?"

"Hardly," he groans, rubbing his eyes. "You shouldn't be so indulgent with me, I'll disappoint you like I did Eloise."

"Hardly."

Benedict's posture slumps when he presses his forehead on your shoulder. "I thought I was helping my sister, but all I did was shorten our stay. I'm sure she must have told you everything during your aunt's dinner..."

"Ah..." Your expression grows sympathetic. "That."

He makes a face. "I don't know why I thought mother would take me seriously. Well, I do know, but just because I'm a thirty-year-old man now doesn't mean I know anything. She still sees me as the careless bachelor I was a year ago, and I am..."

"That means you have ample room to grow," You say calmly, caressing the back of his head. "I can only imagine what a wonderful man you'll be once you do... Do not despair, Benedict, your sister still has an opportunity to be heard."

"And what of me?" He asks, pulling back as his frustration bubbles up. "I've always acted like I didn't care, and they've stopped caring, too. Y/N, it might be too late to make them change the way they see me, I've damaged all my prospects..."

"Nonsense," you lean back and tilt his chin up. "One can always start over, as long as you do so with the best intentions. I don't know anyone who fits that description better than you."

Benedict's gaze softens as he grabs your hand and guides it to his lips. "I do..." He turns his face to press a firm kiss on your palm, eyes closing as he seems to revel in the gesture. Your heart stutters, and on impulse, you use that hand to pull his face and keep it in place as you kiss him. He reciprocates instantly, body moving forward, forcing you to lie back as he crawls closer and pulls down the sheets to get to you. "May I—"

"You don't have to ask," you whisper, "I'm all yours."

Benedict unravels, quickly taking off his shirt and tossing it away. His hands go to your legs and slowly push up your chemise until it gathers around your hips, and his mouth falls open breathless when he feels your warmth. He kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then buries his face on your neck, biting lightly as he settles between your thighs and removes his trousers.

You try to hold him, but he seizes your hands and places them above your head. He looks at you, eyes dark but seemingly hesitant, suddenly lost and frightened. You part your lips to ask what he's thinking, but he speaks before you can even utter the question. "This is not the reason why I came here. This is not what I wanted from you."

"Oh," you feel yourself blushing. "I'm—"

"I only wanted to see you," he interrupts with a strange note in his voice, "I intended to speak, I-I wanted... I needed you. But not like this."

You look at him, confused. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I mean to say," he swallows. "I heard all you said just now, and that's why I'm doing this."

"I see," you reply, understanding nothing. "Very well."

"But this is not me thanking you, this is me... needing more," he meets your eyes, pleading. "Can you give me more?"

You're certain Benedict is going to be the end of you, but by God, you need him desperately. Who cares if he breaks your heart? "Take everything," you answer in a small voice.

Benedict pulls the chemise off your body, and once you're both properly naked, you move to show him where you keep your rubbers, but he doesn't go for them. Instead, he pushes you down once more and travels down your body, licking, kissing, marking your collarbone and the valley of your breasts with bites and spit. 

His mouth explores you like it's starving, pressing wet kisses on the expanse of your skin, and his hands trace your curves gently. The sight reminds you of the care with which he holds a paintbrush, you can see the moonlight casting shadows on his veins, the callouses on his thumb and index tickle when he holds your hips and kisses just below your belly button. 

He inhales, then looks up at you without talking. He's done asking for permission of any kind, and you welcome the transition with excitement. "Please," you whisper in anticipation, not sure why you're begging. "Benedict..."

He sits up only for a moment to cup your cheek in a soothing gesture, not sure why he does it in the first place. You move your head just enough to find his thumb and part your lips around it, pressing your tongue on the pad without breaking eye contact, then suck. Benedict trembles like never before. He remembers the first time he was intimate with a woman, and when he first kissed another man, how liberating it was, the exhilaration that brought him.

This isn't like that. He's become dependent on your touch like it's opium, and it makes him desperate, not free, but he suffers through it like a poet. He lets out a choked laugh, remembering telling you he worshipped God's work when he was intimate with someone, but this is what true adoration looks and feels like, and he's terrified of it. 

He sighs your name in an almost feverish whisper, removing his thumb from your lips and leaning down for a melting kiss. "You can have all of me, too."

Lady Green's dinner marks the new term at Genovia's college as an ample success! As accustomed, he royal family was there, with the addition of Mister and Miss Bridgerton as their guests of honour. 

Something must have occurred, however, for it was evident that the noble siblings and the princess's spirits were rather low in comparison to prior evenings. Does this mean their time in Genovia is coming to an end? Has their secret agreement fallen through?

-Elsie Penworthy for the Genovian Daily Gazette, August 1816

"Good morning, You-eurghhh!" Paula slams the door shut and stands facing it. 

Benedict picks himself up from the floor after falling over, startled by the scream, and covers his privates. "Paula!" You toss him a pillow and get up, grabbing your robe and wrapping yourself in it. "It's too early!"

"The breakfast with the Queen, Your Highness," she explains, voice trembling with laughter as she continues to face the door. "You forgot."

"I apologise, Paula, I meant to go at dawn," Benedict dresses hastily. "Didn't expect you to arrive faster than the sun..."

"You flatter me, Mr Bridgerton," your lady-in-waiting replies playfully. "Are you decent now?"

"Virtually," you joke.

"Wipe that smile off your face," Benedict sends a glare your way while buttoning his trousers. "If your mother is having breakfast as we speak, numerous people are bound to be up all around the castle. I don't know how I'll return to my room unnoticed..."

"I can help," Paula offers. "Use the service stairs."

"I'd be much obliged," he replies, sensing a new friendship forming between him and the lady.

"In the meantime, Princess, I'll send the maids. Do not worry, Mr Bridgerton, they won't say anything, they love you."

Benedict is surprised. "They do?"

"You're the first man outside the family who doesn't act like he knows better than us," Paula grins. "Of course, they love you. Now come, we don't have much time."

He nods, looking at you. "I'll see you at lunch?"

"Breakfast," Paula corrects, peeking out the door to see if the coast is clear.

"Guest of honour, remember?" You smile, approaching him and fixing the neck of his cotton shirt. "You'll have a spot at our table for as long as you're here."

Benedict willingly takes the offer; he even seems to welcome it gladly. "I'll see you soon, then." He places an affectionate kiss on your lips without thinking, freezing an inch away from your mouth after it happens. He turns away in a hurry and walks out without another word.

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 32. Yellow Tulip

Summary: You can't make everyone approve of you, and some people won't like you simply because they don't want to like you. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,939 Warnings: I guess there is some sex here (P in V) but mostly just romance it's disgusting Listen to: 'Kiss Me' -by Ruel A/N: I'll put this song in every single one of my fanfics and you better enjoy it -Danny

"Gossip columns and old hags can speak ill of their Princess without being frowned upon, but I can't be close to more than one man because it makes me a libertine?"

"Oh, Y/N, it is only one gossip gazette and two old hags," Marie lazily waves off a hand from her tub, the water in it rising in scented vapour.

"It should be no gazette and zero hags!" You exclaim, crumpling up the paper and tossing it to the floor, making a mental note to discard it properly once you're out of your bath. 

"If it truly vexes you, you could always get that scribe fired," Eloise suggests casually, fixing the cucumber slices placed over her eyes. "What are these for, anyhow?"

"No one knows," Marie tilts her head to look at her. "Also, I thought you were a supporter of free speech?"

"Oh, but that's different! Lady Whistledown never told lies, but your gossiper does!"

"But she worded that bit as speculation. Arthur is planning to propose this summer, and I have overlooked him."

"I don't think he's a good fit for you," Eloise declares casually. "Next to you, he's not very imposing."

"And Benedict is?" Marie asks teasingly, eating the cucumber that was supposed to be on her face.

"Well, Benedict is taller than most men." Eloise might not be the biggest fan of her brothers at home, but she will champion them to the death outside of it. "And from what I've seen, Lord Dickens isn't a social being, unlike my brother. A Princess should have a charming escort."

"Would you like it if your brother courted her?"

"Marie!"

"I think she can do better than my brother," Eloise laughs, then lifts a slice of cucumber and tilts her head to look at you over the edge of the tub, and her smile softens. "But I would consider us Bridgertons all the luckier if that were to happen."

You smile at her, then tilt your head back to rest it on the towel and sigh heavily, brows furrowing as your mind returns to the former subject. "You know what vexes me the most? They claim my 'giddiness' is because of your brother's presence. I do love having you here, but it wasn't all his doing. I've grown to love these functions, as well as the social interactions with family and friends. It's quite frustrating having all that growth simplified as infatuation."

"Old people will find reasons to claim things are not as good as when they were in charge, and gossip columns only sell scandal." Marie reasons, chewing another slice of cucumber.

Your finger dips into the water's surface, creating ripples as you consider your sister's words in silence. You can't make everyone approve of you, and some people won't like you simply because they don't want to like you. They existed in London, and they exist in Genovia, and they'll be there your entire life.

"What can I do..." You mumble absently. "Have fun with it, I suppose."

You'd mentioned in passing that the castle had many secret passageways from ancient times, and Benedict eagerly requested to explore them, since you claimed to know them all. That's how it started, as a harmless exploration. But it's certainly not how it's going now that he's got you pressed against the stone wall and is hastily unbuttoning your trousers.

Something shifted in your dynamic after the publication of today's gazette. Benedict felt your time together was at risk of being cut short thanks to the rumours, and you wanted to embrace the fire and enjoy this man thoroughly before sending him away once more. Naturally, it resulted in the two of you being unable to keep your hands off each other.

He's pulling your clothes out of the way while his other hand holds your face firmly in a messy kiss. "You smell heavenly," he growls.

"I had a bath this morning," you breathe, hitching your leg up on his side. "And now you're going to make me sweat it off."

 "I can lick you clean after," he replies, running his wicked tongue over your pulse.

"Oh, sweet heavens," you melt.

"That is exactly what I said," he says in a sort of whimpery voice, pressing his hips against you, "let me inside you again, please..."

You pull a sharp intake of air at his words, working on his trousers. "I don't have a rubber on me..."

"I do," he smirks against your ear. "May I?"

"Oh, I missed you!" You sigh, holding his face and kissing him effusively.

He chuckles, that deep, rumbling sound that instantly gets you wet. Benedict searches his pocket blindly and pulls out the small, delicate pouch that contains the rubber. He moves back just enough to get himself ready, and while you wait in the dimly lit stony hallway, you grow self-conscious. 

What if he thinks you are only interested in this? And what if the only reason he is so willing is because he doesn't think much of you? What if he's only having fun—

"Y/N," he says, bringing you back. When you look up, you notice his gaze is less lustful and more attentive. "You have gone elsewhere, I know that look. Is that sharp mind of yours cutting too deep?"

You blush, for the first time since this started, you feel truly naked before his gaze. "I used to pride myself on being good at concealing my emotions."

He smirks. "You still are, I'm just remarkably good at making you lose your footing."

"Indeed," you chuckle, though it comes out nervous, and he hears it.

"Y/N," he tries again, cradling your face in his gentle hands. "What is it?"

You cave a little, pouting at the tone he uses. "The gazette..."

"Ah, yes..." Benedict clears his throat. "You know, after all I've seen through your eyes, I've come to realise people are so quick to blame women for what men do. That is to say, Arthur and I came back to you, not the other way around. You haven't been lying about your affections to either of us... but this gazette makes an off-handed accusation and suddenly everyone believes you capable of it."

"So you don't believe it?" You ask weakly.

Benedict laughs, making the right assumption about what your thoughts had been a few moments ago. "You're capable of moving man like a chess piece, maybe, but you're not exactly hiding it from us. And it's never with malicious intent. Now, I do not mean to brush past your discomfort, but my cock is out, and I don't think this is the moment to be having a serious conversation."

You glance down and laugh, blushing when you see his member hard and begging for attention. "Oh god, have you been standing like that this whole time?"

He grins, pulling your face in to kiss you and answer against your mouth. "I'm a caring lover."

Whatever answer you could've possibly given to him dies before it forms fully when he pushes into you, your hands immediately burying in his hair as he kisses you deeply. The last word, however, still manages to linger at the back of your mind. Lover. 

It could mean nothing; a most common word used when referring to these kinds of relationships between unmarried people, but afterwards, you know him using that term was the reason why the encounter was so memorable.

Benedict enters his room, light on his feet and still able to smell you in his clothes. He spots the envelope on the small table by the fireplace: a letter from home. In two easy strides, he closes the distance and grabs it, ripping it open to read through, innocently thinking it'll uplift his spirits even more.

Benedict, (Already a bad sign—his mother is addressing him by full name)

I'm happy to hear the trip has been a pleasant journey, but I think it would be best to discuss this with Eloise in person. I understand her ambitions, and I wish to support her as best as a mother can, but there is a lot that must be taken into consideration. 

I don't expect you to know about it, having no experience as a parent or head of a family, and I do not blame you for wanting to support her, but I do beg you not to encourage this idea any further, at least until I have expressed myself.

 I should also remind you that the season is not the only thing that has begun. A letter arrived asking if you're to enrol for this fall's term at the Academy, and if you fail to reply or attend this forthnight, they will give the vacancy to someone else.

Anthony has not come home yet, but I expect him next week. I should like to have you back by then as well. 

Yours dearly, 

Mother

There is a faint knock on the door before Eloise walks in, sunburned thanks to the time spent with Marie around town. Benedict can hear their mother's disapproval already, scolding him for not making sure she stayed in the shadow.

"There you are!" She says. "Is that a letter from home?" Eloise snatches it away before he can stop her, and sees as her eyes move through each line quickly, her smile fading just like his. She meets his gaze and speaks in a wobbly tone. "What did you tell her?"

Benedict feels his face start to heat up with embarrassment. "I didn't think she'd react like this, I thought—"

"It doesn't matter what you thought, you should've known better than to write home to mother," she says, voice growing angry.

Benedict stands, trying to appear confident. "It is evident that you're in love with Genovia and deserve a chance to try your luck here—"

"Don't you know how it sounds coming from you?" Eloise demands. "Nothing you could say would be taken seriously!"

Benedict stops, deeply hurt by her words, though he understands where they're coming from. Until now, he had never shown anything other than disdain towards society. How could he expect their mother to read the letter in any tone other than mocking towards the woman's plans for Eloise? 

He's ashamed to have assumed his opinions could be anything other than alarming in his mother's point of view, and those lines in the letter sting sharper than when he was reading them in real time: I don't expect you to know about it, having no experience as a parent or head of a family.

The world of unmarried women is opposite to that of bachelors, and he'd never cared to look into it. It was easy to write home and say 'I won't do what you want' as a man, but could Eloise allow herself such a bold move?

"Forgive me," he says at last. He feels a poor attempt at a chaperone, barely good enough to pay for expenses. "I should've kept quiet."

"Yes, well, you've never been good at that," Eloise says, clutching the letter in her hand and trying not to cry out of pure anxiety. She turns and makes her way out of the room.

Benedict's blood boils at that. All he does is keep his mouth shut about everything! It feels as if his guts will spill out if he does so much as part his lips to share what he truly thinks about everything and everyone. Every day since he came of age, he puts on a smile and pretends nothing bothers him, but it does. Every sodding little thing he's forced to do to please the ton feels like chewing glass.

He falls back on the chair, his jaw pulsing with how hard he's clenching it, and gathers the jumble of emotions he's feeling before they make him too sick to attend dinner. "It'll be fine..." he tries to convince himself in a mutter, massaging the muscle of his jaw.

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: One thing about Ara is she's always going to threaten with murder -Danny Words: 3,054 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

LIII: If I'd a Nikel for Every Demigod That Became a God I'd Have Too Many

When Ara gains consciousness, she's tied up and gagged, lying ahead of her friends, who are kneeling, also tied up and beaten. She gasps and coughs, immediately trying to get up, but a big-eared creature towers over her and points an arrow at her face.

"One spark of colorful glow from your body, and we kill all of your friends."

Lester leans forward. "Good sir, are you the panda in charge?"

"The singular form is pandos. I hate being called a panda. Do I look like a panda?"

"Well, Mr Pandos—"

"My name is Amax."

"Of course. Amax," Lester gently sits up Ara, who is still panicking and struggling to breathe. "I imagine you hate people eavesdropping on you."

"Why do you say this? What did you overhear?"

"Nothing! But I bet you have to be careful. Always other people, other pandai snooping into your business. That's—that's why you haven't raised an alarm yet. You know we're important prisoners. You want to keep control of the situation, without anyone else taking the credit for your good work."

"Vector, on boat twenty-five, is always spying," the Pandos mutters sourly. 

"Taking credit for our ideas, like Kevlar ear armour." Says another.

"Exactly! Which is why, uh, before you do anything rash, you're going to want to hear what I have to say. In private."

"Ha! You just lied, I could hear it in your voice. You're afraid. You're bluffing. You have nothing to say."

"I do," Meg responds. "I'm Nero's stepdaughter. Remove the gag from Ara, and I'll speak."

"Timbre! Crest! Keep those arrows steady!" Amax glares at her. "You seem to be telling the truth, but I'm afraid I was warned not to let that one speak, nor move. What is Nero's stepdaughter doing here?"

"Looking for Caligula, so I can kill him."

"You say you are from Nero. Yet you want to kill our master. This does not make sense."

"It's a juicy story," Lester insists. "With lots of secrets, twists, and turns. But if you kill us you'll never hear it. If you take us to the emperor, someone else will torture it out of us. We would gladly tell you everything. You captured us, after all. But isn't there somewhere more private we can talk, so no one will overhear?"

"You seem to be telling the truth, but there's so much weakness and fear in your voice that it's hard to be sure."

"Mmm-hmph! Mmmm!" Ara wriggles. Lester has the feeling it's not words of comfort.

"Uncle Amax, perhaps the pimply boy has a point. If it's valuable information—"

"Silence, Crest! You've already disgraced yourself once this week. Timbre, Peak, bind the pimply boy and the stepdaughter of Nero. We will take them all below, interrogate them ourselves and then hand them over to the emperor!"

"Yes! Yes!"

If looks could kill, Ara would've murdered every pandai within a mile radius. She keeps her eyes ahead, waits, and berates herself. It's not like she was going to know right away how to divide her essence like gods do, but she can't help getting frustrated all the same.

The yacht is luxurious and makes Ara want to set it on fire. She can't believe these men have been living like this while demigods get killed every year, never doing anything to help them, to create safe spaces for them—heck, they could build hundreds of camps all over the world with this kind of money!

Ara's hand shuffles behind her back. Plastic binds her, so she can melt it if she summons Hephaestus's blessing, but the pandai would smell it, or they would sense her moving around, or glowing. She hopes Meg's tale will be distracting enough.

They finally reach a room in which Amax feels comfortable. "This place is private, talk."

"First, I must know why you're not followers of Apollo. Such great archers? The finest hearing in the world? Eight fingers on each hand? You would be natural musicians! We seem made for each other!"

"You are the former god, eh? They told us about you."

"I am Apollo, it's not too late to pledge me your loyalty."

Amax bursts into laughter. "What do we need with Olympian gods? Especially gods who are pimply boys with no power?"

"But there's so much I could teach you! Music! Poetry! I could teach you how to write haikus!"

"Music and poetry hurt our ears," Amax scoffs. "We have no need of them!"

"I like music," Crest says quietly. "I can play a little—"

"Silence! You can play silence for once, worthless nephew!" Amax takes a seat. "We pandai are mercenaries. We choose our masters. Why would we pick a washed-up god like you? Once, we served the kings of India! Now we serve Caligula!"

"Caligula! Caligula! The emperor trusts only us!"

"Yes! Unlike those Germani, we never stabbed him to death!"

"The night is young," Meg comments. "We could all stab him together."

"I am still waiting, daughter of Nero, to hear your juicy story about why you wish to kill our master. You'd better have good information. And lots of twists and turns! Convince me you are worth bringing to Caesar alive, rather than as dead bodies, and perhaps I'll get a promotion tonight! I will not be passed over again for some idiot like Overdrive on boat three, or Wah-Wah on boat forty-three."

"Wah-Wah?" Piper snorts. "Are you guys all named after guitar pedals? My dad has a collection of those. Well... he had a collection."

"Guitar pedals? I don't know what that means! If you are making fun of our culture—"

"Hey, you wanna hear my story or not?" Meg demands.

Lester hesitates. "Um, Meg...? Are you sure?"

"I got twists and turns, but are you sure we're alone, Mr Amax? No one else is listening?"

"Of course not! This ship is my base. That glass is fully soundproofed. Vector won't hear a word!" Soundproofed? Amax just gave Ara ample room to work with. The girl closes her eyes and taps into her divine essence, the process is quite dizzying.

"What about Wah-Wah? I know he's on boat forty-three with the emperor, but if his spies are nearby—"

"Ridiculous! The emperor isn't on boat forty-three! Boat forty-three is the emperor's footwear boat, silly girl. An important assignment, yes, but not the throne-room boat."

"Right," says another. "That's Reverb's boat, number twelve—"

"Silence! Enough delays, girl. Tell me what you know, or die."

"Okay. Twists and turns." 

Meg tosses her arms forward, throwing both of her scimitars at the guards. She gets Amax and his guard. Ara glows orange and throws all of her weight onto Timber, slamming him against the wall as her bindings snap. She pulls the gag out of her mouth, bites on his neck viciously, and distracts him long enough so Meg gets him while Jason and Piper tackle Crest.

Ara spits out golden dust. "Trained in every manner except street fights," she shakes her head. "It's like they think we were born yesterday, Meg."

Crest whimpers and curls up against the wall. Meg stands up to finish him, but Ara catches her arm at the same time Lester speaks. "Meg, wait!"

"What?"

"Crest," Lester begins, "there's no shame in surrender. You are not a fighter."

"Y—you don't know me."

"You're holding your sword backwards, so unless you intend to stab yourself..."

Ara steps forward. "Drop your weapon."

Crest whimpers as he does. "Do not come near me!"

"This doesn't have to be your fight. Get out of here! Become the musician you want to see in the world!" Lester begs.

The pandos scrambles to his feet and runs out in surprising silence. "Why'd you let him go?" Meg demands. "He'll warn everybody."

"I don't think so."

Ara goes around snatching bindings with simple tugs. "Got great news, team, Camp Jupiter survived the attack."

"How do you know?"

"Leo got them to pray before going into battle, and it worked. I was called over while we were coming here." She sighs. "I don't know how to be in two places at once, so I blacked out here."

"Ah, so that's why you fainted," Lester says, trying to stay optimistic. "But you helped! They won!"

"Frank said there were casualties, but yeah, I suppose I helped." She picks up her octopus. "Well, if this room is soundproofed, let's review our plan here, shall we?"

"Emperor Stupid is on boat twelve," Meg says. "That's where we go, you and I, General."

"But the shoe boat," Lester scowls, "is forty-three, which is in the opposite direction."

"What if Emperor Stupid is wearing his shoes?"

"Hey," Jason points at Lester's quiver. "That's the mobile source of prophecy you were telling us about, right? Maybe you should ask it."

Lester sighs and draws it out. "You heard them, O Wise Arrow. Which way do we go?"

"What did he say?" Piper asks after a few seconds.

"Both ways—but it's warning us of great sacrifice. Bloody stuff."

"Right," Ara scowls. "So I guess we split." 

Piper makes a face. "I hate that."

"Me too," Jason sighs. "Which means it's probably the right move. I'm going after Caligula with Meg, you go with Lester, Ara. Even if the shoes aren't there, maybe I can buy you guys some time, distract the security forces."

"Do you think I forgot what the oracle told you?" Ara scowls. "You're not—" She doubles over in distress once more. "Come on!" She grunts. "Who is it, now?"

"Ara!" Lester approaches.

"Go!" She says, realizing she has to deal with this sooner rather than later. "New plan—you guys split, I stay here, and then join you."

"Which group?" Jason asks.

She sits in the chair and buries her head between her knees. "Both."

"Ara..."

"I have to," she groans. "I have to or I'll faint in the middle of a fight, and I can't keep dropping like that, it's distracting. Go!" She locks eyes with Piper and pleads. "Have I ever failed you?"

Piper picks up her dagger. "Come on, Lester."

"If you get in trouble," Ara tells Meg and Jason. "Think of me—Of my name. Hard."

They exit the room, locking the door behind them.

She's decided what kind of crisis she will deal with, but that doesn't mean demigods know when to pray and when to leave her alone. Ara has slipped to the floor and is pulling her hair in frustration, sweating as a thousand different images flash through her head.

She can hear them asking for help over things that aren't relevant, she can hear her friends thinking about her, speaking without knowing they're messing up her focus. Perhaps if she shortens her reach... But how?

She pants. "I can't do it!"

"Come now, General," Janus is occupying her former seat. "You can't help your friends if you're busy pitying yourself."

"Are you kidding me?" She kneels, glaring at him. "You can't make me choose one group over the other!"

The faces laugh. "We know," they speak in unison, which is rare. "We're not here to make you."

Ara curls her fingers against each knee, knuckles turning white. "Then what do you want?"

"My dear friend—because we are friends, Arae Jackson. We are beginning and ending," they say, "god of transitions, of duality, of war and peace. We are here to welcome you."

"Welcome me?"

They stand and stretch out their hand. "Rise, Arae Pantodýnamos."

Golden light engulfs her, burning through her body in a millisecond.

"...The boy listens to me. He needs me. Doesn't matter how violent or unpredictable he may seem to others. I can keep him under control, use him to push through my agenda. I'm backing the right horse."

Ara blinks, disoriented and hearing a bunch of adult voices around her as if they're all seated in a room. When she sits up, she comes face to face with Hestia.

"Good day, my lady," she smiles, "you're home."

"I... what?" Ara looks up, feeling like she's made of air.

"She's awake!" Aphrodite's voice rings in her ears loudly. "My baby!" The woman cages her in a bear hug. 

Ara yelps and opens her eyes fully: she's in Olympus. "No... no," she says, panic seeping through her bones—Do I still have bones? "No! No, I have to go back!"

"That's enough, child," Zeus speaks, looking at her unimpressed and almost aggravated. "You have no reason to be down there."

"No!" She moves to the projection they're all seeing: Lester has been caught by Caligula's horse. "No! I have to help them!"

"It's okay," Hestia holds her hand. "You can rest now, Arae."

"Rest?" Ara asks shakily, looking at Zeus. "Two sons of yours are risking their lives as we speak, and you won't let me help?"

Zeus' eyes sharpen. "I'm warning you, godling, insolence isn't allowed even amongst my brethren."

"Your children need me!" She says, tears welling up in her eyes. "They're all I've got!"

"Oh my sweet, that was before," Aphrodite cups her face. "You're a goddess now, see? There will be many demigods to come, and you'll love them—"

Ara swats her mother's hands away from her face. "I'm not like you."

Dionysus is there, and he scoffs when she says that. "Look at yourself, kiddo, you're exactly like us."

She ignores him and faces Zeus. "Send me back."

"Be quiet."

"If I don't go back, Jason will die."

"I gave out my orders, and they are going to be followed!" Zeus says in anger, but Ara can't tell what upsets him, her demands, or Jason's fate.

"Not by me. Send me back."

"Yes, by you, Daughter of Olympus!"

"I'm Pantodýnamos!" She raises her voice. "Goddess of the lost, daughter of Olympus and men," her voice shakes with anger. She points at the projection. "That is who I serve. Mortals. Innocents. You cannot keep me from them."

Heavy silence hangs over the throne room. Zeus stands to his full height. "You dare..."

"My mother was born of Ouranos, humans came from Prometheus—Hephaestus, son of Hera, chose me as the Almighty, Pan bowed to my fate, and your older brother placed his faith in me first. I owe you nothing."

Ara materialises Almighty in her hand. The sword looks larger, but it feels just as light as ever. "Did you think I would sit on your son's throne, and you'd have a nice substitute while waiting for him to come back?" Her gaze darkens. "If I'm not returned, it's your throne I'll be taking. I'll fight you, Zeus. I've been touched by your lightning and survived it as a mortal—What makes you think I won't as a goddess?"

She looks around, she's as tall as the gods. "I have served all of you. You have shown your approval, and you cannot take your blessings back! You cannot help him, you cannot help me, but God King," she looks at Zeus and lifts her sword, pointing it at his face. "I might not win, not in ten centuries from now, but I swear on the Styx that I'll never stop coming after you, and I'll push you off the throne eventually, I'll take your place, and no one will miss you."

"Enough!" He shouts, glowing electric blue. "I have heard enough of your delusions, girl! Your divine blood has ruined your mind, made you believe you are not my servant, but you are! You are my General!"

He throws lightning at her and she sucks it up in Almighty, then throws it back and he redirects it to a column. Ara makes a sonic bomb appear in her hand and tosses it at him, stunning the other gods, who curl up on their seats.

"What you are is a threat to the demigods you bestowed upon my care," she turns Almighty into a crossbow. "If I have to hurt you in order to go back to them, I will."

Zeus tightens the grip on his lightning. "You—"

"Or," she continues. "You let me go so I can protect my demigods..." Her voice breaks. "I just want to help them. I don't want them to be alone. Not like Beckendorf when he died," she turns to look at Hephaestus. "Not like Bianca, or Ethan, or Silena, or Mike!" She cries out. "Zoë had you when she died!" She turns to Artemis demandingly. "Why can't my demigods have me?"

Ara tosses her sword at Zeus' feet. "I'm enraged," she falls to her knees. "I'm tired..." She sobs and looks up at Zeus, sincere in her frustration. "I don't care about you. I don't want your throne. Please, I'll continue to be the General of Olympus. I do not want to be here."

"Father," Athena speaks carefully. "There is no threat in her that we ought to fear."

"And she means it," Dionysus adds, trying to sound nonchalant. "She swore on the Styx, father, and this one doesn't take that oath lightly."

"You're saying you believe she could overthrow me?" Zeus asks tensely.

Dionysus laughs. "Of course not. But this one's a roach—she would make it her duty to be a nuisance for eternity. Do you think it's worth it? I mean, look at her, she's barely out of diapers."

"She is no threat in the mortal world, brother," Poseidon says. "I've watched her grow alongside my son, and she will continue to fight for what we want."

Aphrodite speaks. "Do not forget she offered to give her essence away to Apollo. What other proof do you need? She is serving the Olympians."

"Besides," Ares continues, picking on his ear, draped on his throne casually and barely concealing his smirk. "She can make a show out of a killing, and these emperors are getting tiresome, don't ya think? Let's release her, see what she can do with Caligula now that she's a goddess."

Zeus glares at the group. He's not to be questioned, but the gods have marked her with their blessing, their protection, and rules bind them to remain neutral. He himself handed out his blessing willingly, and he can't kill her even if he wanted to.

She isn't an Olympian goddess. Ara only coexists with them, but she comes to open a brand new pantheos—what's worse, minor deities like her. Nemesis, Eros, Phobos and Deimos, Hecate, Janus... she can start a whole new age with that kind of backup.

"You have insulted the king of the heavens," Zeus starts in a low, irate voice. "You aimed your weapon at me, and challenged me after I granted you a place amongst us. Ungrateful beast."

On a surface level, of course, it's hurting her beyond belief that the god she served loyally is spitting in her face. But that insult makes her think of Michael, and it brings her peace. It makes her think: I am still me.

"Be the help, and see how quickly humans forget all you do for them. Live for as long as you want in your exile, and if my son dies under your care, may the fates take you with him."

He throws lightning at her once more, and this time, Ara lets it run through her.

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 31. The Kettle-Head

Summary: He'll be very sorry to leave when the moment comes. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,374 Listen to: 'golden hour' -by JVKE ft. Ruel A/N: I wanna put them in a jar and keep them for observation purposes -Danny

Dear Diary,

The forest was particularly beautiful this afternoon.

Once Benedict and Eloise are ready for the concert, you take them with you in a carriage while your siblings ride another. You give Benedict a few names that he should remember, all nobility with an appreciation for the arts. To Eloise, you speak of former alumni who will be more than happy to answer any questions she might have, letting her know you'll make all the introductions she pleases. 

When you arrive, Benedict offers you his arm while your brother Richard takes Eloise, with Marie and Rowan following close. As you enter the theatre, Lord Dickens approaches you with the naive optimism that makes you wonder if he's truly the genius they tell you he is. 

"Princess Y/N!" He beams, bowing before holding your gloved hand and giving you one of those non-kisses you detest. "You look beautiful as usual. And this is...?"

"Benedict Brigderton, this is Lord Dickens, an old friend of the family."

"Yes, the usual escort," Benedict says good-naturedly. "I hope you don't mind me taking your place, it wasn't in my plans at all, but Princess Y/N insisted."

"A princess must be obeyed," the man concedes happily. "But I'll admit you're quite the surprise, I don't believe I heard a thing about you until you showed up! And I do take pride in being the princess's secret keeper."

"Oh?" The tone of superiority makes Benedict pause. "A long friendship, then. For how long have you known each other?"

Sensing what he's trying to confirm, you speak to dismiss the question, but Arthur's confident, loud voice wins over yours. "Four or five years."

Benedict's expression twitches with mirth as he looks at you, his free hand rising to cover the side of his mouth and keep his grin concealed. "Mm." His eyes shine with unspent laughter. "And you have been Princess Y/N's companion since then?"

"Indeed. We're very fond of each other."

"I can imagine. If you've been friends for so long, she must have little reasons to detest you."

"Few reasons," you correct him, knowing what he's alluding to.

"That's what I said. Lord Dickens," Benedict's voice trembles, noticing the irony in the last name. "I'll take the Princess to greet some other acquaintances only half as fascinating as you, but we might find each other again during the intermission. If you excuse us..."

Arthur bows and steps aside to let you pass, then you pull Benedict away roughly, causing him to let out a tiny, mischievous giggle. "It's not funny!" You scold him.

"Of course not," he sobers up dramatically. "A man's flaws are not to be mocked in the least, especially when they are costing him greatly. To lose a princess over the size of your—!"

"Benedict, it has nothing to do with his..." You whisper, looking at him in exasperation. "His manhood! Arthur is a lovely person, but we do not match. He's too... Too comfortable with the decorum of it all."

"He is very polite, yes. I noticed he kisses your hand like you're forbidden. I would've expected a princess to be utterly pleased by that, critter. You shouldn't be lusting for disarray," he teases you.

"I do not lust for it," you sulk. "But I want to be courted without feeling like I'm attending a lecture. Just as you hate feeling like a pet when speaking with a debutant."

"Fair enough," he hums, nonetheless pleased with his findings. "But as a future Queen, you should be looking for a tranquil love. Passion is fine for someone like me, with a dull aristocratic life, but you? You'll be managing an entire nation, you need balance."

"Since when are you an expert on what I need?"

He leans in, speaking quietly while keeping an eye on the surrounding crowd to make sure no one sees their little interaction. "Unlike Dickens, I know everything about your needs and how to meet them, Your Royal Highness."

You suppress a shiver. It's already difficult, having to endure hours of his presence, but to do it while also having him whisper such things into your ear is downright impossible. "Oh, look! Sir Green!"

"The Headmaster of the college," Benedict straightens his posture. "And that's the Headmistress..."

"His wife, Lady Lily," you smile at them. "My aunt. Come, I'll introduce you properly."

Benedict can't remember the last time he had fun at a concert, surrounded by high society. They speak freely here, the jokes are different, the manners are less constricting, and he finds himself in the spotlight with almost no discomfort in his heart pleading at him to escape.

The crowds laugh at his sharp observations and encourage him to question theirs. In no time, Benedict becomes the favourite novelty of the Genovian society, but he doesn't feel the usual morbid interest that is so often used in London's ton, the hidden disapproval in their ardent admiration. Here, what they show is what they mean, and it is a little discombobulating. 

He keeps cutting his sentences when he realises he's rambling, gets embarrassed when he laughs too hard, and blushes when men and women alike flirt with him shamelessly. It is unlike him, and yet, he's never felt more himself than in this moment. He'll be very sorry to leave when the moment comes.

As they enter the balcony reserved for the royals, Benedict feels light and giddy, almost forgetting he's supposed to be tending to the Princess's needs. When this thought reaches him, he stiffens, glancing at you to check how you're doing.

"Would you like me to get you something to drink?" He asks gallantly. "We've been talking for a whole hour out there."

"You mean you have been talking a whole hour," you reply with amusement. "I didn't know you could be so chatty in public, my friend."

Benedict blushes once more, letting out a chuckle. "I got carried away. In my defence, you've been encouraging my misconduct."

"I do more than encourage it, I praise it," you say, squeezing his arm. "You look handsome when you're enjoying yourself."

"More than usual, you mean?" He replies playfully. 

"Deathly so," you gently kiss his cheek. "I'll be the one to request drinks."

"That is out of the question."

"Indeed, I wasn't asking," you wink at him before abandoning the balcony.

During the intermission, you linger on your balcony while Benedict and Eloise go out with your siblings to meet more Genovian society. You wish to take it all in, the tranquillity you feel right at this moment, your feet up in a chair and your back against the wall, when you hear your name from the other side of it.

"...Has no decency, if you ask me. That girl and her mother. Sure, the economy is rising, but what of morals? What of manners? Her mother goes around wearing trousers, and the girl attends the functions with two different suitors? Preposterous!"

"And the kettle-head is an artist, I hear, but have you seen how he handles himself around the court? I dare say he's just like all those mollies fluttering about him, you could tell he was enjoying the male attention!"

"I pity Lord Dickens. I tell you, the crown is rusting. I'll be glad to part from this earth before this girl decides to take the throne and turn it into a harem!"

The (clearly old) ladies huff and bicker in mutters as you straighten your posture in shock and outrage. They must've thought everyone on your balcony had left for the intermission, otherwise, they wouldn't be talking so openly about you. Your blood boils, and you make a mental note to ask the footman who was seated beside you once the concert is over.

If anyone had been expecting with baited breath the confirmation of Princess Y/N's engagement, I'm afraid to inform that it might never come at all.

Our Princess was seen at last night's concert with her new friend, Mr Bridgerton. An abrupt change from her four-year steady escort, our esteemed Lord Dickens. The new pair —or should I say couple?— can't be denied to be more visibly appealing, but it seems cruel to replace the inamorato of many years for a foreigner who will go away once the month ends.

She certainly seemed giddier than we've ever seen her in public, but is this a step in the right direction, or a failure in character?

-Elsie Penworthy for the Genovian Daily Gazette, June 1816

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: You don't understand I've spent so many years thinking about this specific plot point I'm vibrating with excitement -Danny Words: 2,717 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Who We Are' –by Imagine Dragons

LII: I Have the Power of God and Anime on My Side!

"We've been towed," Piper announces as they exit the boarding school.

"Should I get it this time?" Ara offers.

"Do not mess with my signature move," Piper replies. A few minutes later, she comes back with a school van. "Hey, kids. Want to go on a field trip?"

Ara decides not to ride shotgun, given the passive-aggressiveness tainting the usually easy-going relationship with her sister. The only upside of this is that for the first time, Ara feels like she's going through a normal teen thing since going away from home.

"Where to?" Piper asks.

"Santa Barbara," Jason answers.

"Geez, Ken, at least pretend you're coming up with it on the go," Ara says, wanting to bring back some of their old banter for old times' sake. It doesn't work.

The closer they are to their destination, the more restless Ara gets. She doesn't like the stakes on this, how thin the line between messing up and coming unscathed feels. One wrong move, and it'll be Mike's fate all over again.

"How much further?" Meg asks impatiently.

"About two hours," Jason mumbles. "Northwest, along the coast. We're going to Stearns Wharf."

"Lightning Grace comes in with a powerbomb..." Ara begins under her breath.

"You've been there?"

"Bullhorn McLean answers with a headlock..." Ara mutters.

"I ... Y eah. Just scouting the place with Tempest." Jason blushes.

"Lightning seems a bit dazzled..."

"Tempest?" Lester questions, sending a brief glare in Ara's direction.

"His horse," Piper is laser-focused on Jason. "You went scouting there alone?"

"He's choking, fellas!" Ara continues in her WWE narrator's voice.

"Well, Tempest is a ventus," Jason corrects, avoiding Piper's inquiry.

"Lightning is showing some spunk..."

Meg intervenes. "Like those windy things Medea had?"

"Except Tempest is friendly," Jason nods. "I kind of... not tamed him, exactly, but we made friends. He'll show up when I call, usually, and let me ride him."

"A wind horse... I guess that's cool."

"Back to the question," Piper presses. "Why did you decide to scout Stearns Wharf?"

"Bullhorn's strikes are unrelenting..."

"I swear on your favorite hairbrush, Ara, I'll stop the car and choke you," Piper glares at her over the seat.

Ara lifts her hands in surrender. She kicks the back of Jason's seat. "Tell her."

"The Sibyl," he says. "She told me I would find Caligula there. It's one of the places where he stops."

'"Where he stops?"

"His palace isn't a palace, exactly. We're looking for a boat."

"Ah." Lester pales.

"Ah?" Meg looks at him. "Ah, what?"

"Ah, that makes sense. In ancient times, Caligula was notorious for his pleasure barges—huge floating palaces with bathhouses, theatres, rotating statues, racetracks, thousands of slaves..."

"Why do we always have to fight the most ridiculous men on earth?" Ara scoffs.

"Anyway," Lester continues, "that explains why you've had trouble locating him. He can move from harbour to harbour at will."

"Yeah. When I scouted, he wasn't there. I guess the Sibyl meant I'd find him at Stearns Wharf when I was supposed to find him. Which, I guess, is today." He looks out his window. "Speaking of the Sibyl... there's another detail I didn't share with you about the prophecy."

Piper doesn't throw a tantrum once he tells her. She's not like that, but Ara notices her eyes get a little more like Jason's: sterner, lacking a bit more light. "That's quite a detail."

"I should've told you..."

"Um, yeah," she takes a breath. "Still... if I'm being honest? In your position, I might've done the same thing. I wouldn't want you to die either."

"Does that mean you're not mad?"

"I'm furious."

"Oh."

"Furious, but also empathetic."

"Right."

"The ideal mood for what we're about to do," Ara leans forward between their seats. "Remember to pack your angry eyes, kids, we're killing an emperor!"

"Finally!" Meg says, hungrily rubbing her rings.

"Was she always like this, or did becoming immortal mess up her brain?" Lester asks in exasperation.

"Nah, she always kind of not well," Piper admits. "So, any other surprises? Any more tiny details you forgot?"

Jason sighs. "I think that's it. Now I want to know Ara's deal. I mean, I can see you're almost as tall as me now, and you do look different, but are you really immortal?"

"About seventy percent," Ara says, then runs through all that's been happening since last September.

"How did you know where to go every time you were taken away?"

"I just show up there. Sometimes I hear voices calling my name."

"You hear it?"

"It's her calling," Lester says.

"My what?"

"As a god, you get a thing that calls you over to where you're needed. That's how we know when and where to show up."

She remembers her mother, Aphrodite, saying something of the sort many years ago. Wherever love is, I get called to it. That's how it works.

"Does it mean my duty as a..." she makes a face, "goddess... what would it be?"

"If I had to guess? Helping demigods but only when they ask."

"What?"

"Well, it's impossible to stop them from bumping their heads on boards or stuff, there's gotta be a key to your calling, something to filter minor accidents from the real deal."

Ara ponders. "When I showed up with that kid and the cyclops, I got this feeling that... it wasn't fair."

"Fair how?"

"Fair as in, Dennis had no chance to survive unless..."

"Unless you stepped in?" Lester smiles, and she senses a bit of nostalgia in the expression. "I think your calling is the safekeeping of demigods."

"But not all demigods," she frowns. "No... young demigods. Lonesome. I think that's why I left Leo so easily. He's found a home, and you're the most vulnerable and targeted demigod in the country, then Jason and Piper called..."

"And the oracle said you'd help me," Jason says, his skin glowing dark blue, though faintly. "Arae, goddess of the lost... has a ring to it."

"Okay," Piper tries not to feel too freaked out. "We go to the wharf. We find this boat. We find Caligula's magic booties, and we let Ara kill him if we get the chance. But her real job is not to let us die."

"Or let me die," Meg adds. "Or even Apollo."

"Thank you, Meg. My heart is as warm as a partially thawed burrito."

"No problem." 

"No one will die as long as you ask me for help at the right time," Ara brushes off. "That is, if Lester's guess is right. And he's right only half of the time."

"I don't have to stop the car to choke you, you know?" He scowls.

"How do we know which is the right boat?" Meg asks.

"I have a feeling we'll know," Lester sighs. "Caligula was never subtle."

"Assuming the boat is there this time," Jason hums.

"It'd better be. Otherwise I stole this van and got you out of your afternoon physics lecture for nothing."

"And we all know how much you hate crime and what a physics nerd Jason is, the guy who can control the air," Ara replies with a grin.

"Darn," Jason leans back, also grinning. "Just when I was getting the hang of it."

"He'll be here," Lester announces as they exit the van.

"Are you sensing a disturbance in the Force?" Piper asks, stretching beside him.

"Please," he rolls his eyes. "I'm sensing my usual bad luck. In a place this harmless-looking, there's no way we will not find trouble."

"I don't sense anything yet," Ara says, looking around. "You hungry, Meg?"

"Yup."

"Let's go get you something, it's way past lunchtime."

Ara takes the girl while the others scout the area. Lester comes to them soon after, and he nudges Ara to speak in private while Meg eats. "You know, Jason is right, you're not your usual pissy self."

"There is no point in worrying now," she rubs her palm deep in thought. "All my teens, I've been at war. I know things happen when and how they have to happen, and Janus would always show up at the last moment, because that's when I'm able to make a move. Right as it happens."

"So..."

"I don't know if I'll die today, if you'll be a god by the time we end our quest, if Leo and I will... get anything at all. Things only happen in the present, you can't change the past, can't fix the future in advance, all I have is what's in front of me," Ara nods at Meg.

"Well, then I'm glad you dropped that crazy idea about giving me your life source, because I would never consume your essence for my benefit."

Ara smiles. "You're getting better at sounding sincere when you say stuff like that."

Lester is positively miffed. "Because I mean it!"

"Right," Ara picks up Meg's trash. "Let's finish scouting."

The others are just finishing their meal when the buzzing gets annoyingly sharp in Ara's head. She closes her eyes and squirms, rubbing her ear against her shoulder. 

"What's wrong?" Jason asks. 

"Buzzing?" Lester asks, and she nods wordlessly, picking at her ear. "That's weird, you haven't used any blessings." He presses the back of his hand to her forehead. "You don't have a fever... perhaps it's normal buzzing? Like, you're just stressed?"

"I'm not as stressed as I could be," she replies.

Jason stands suddenly. "There."

"Yeah, that has to be it," Piper stands too, staring at the massive sight before them. "What now? You think it will dock?"

"Hold on—Look." Meg squints.

"Oh... gods," Ara says, a shiver running down her spine as more yachts arrive one after the other.

"That must be a mirage, right?" Jason questions uneasily. "Or a decoy?"

"This is crazy!" Piper exclaims. "Each one of those boats has to cost millions."

"Half a billion—Or more. Caligula was never shy about spending money. He is part of the Triumvirate. They've been accumulating wealth for centuries."

"All that wealth, used to hurt my people," Ara's eyes darken. "This ends today."

"The Bridge of Boats," Lester says with disgust. "He's done it again."

"Again?" Meg looks at him.

"Caligula—back in ancient times... When he was a boy, he received a prophecy. A Roman astrologer told him he had as much chance of becoming emperor as he did of riding a horse across the Bay of Baiae. In other words, it was impossible. But Caligula did become emperor. So he ordered the construction of a fleet of super-yachts like this. He lined the boats up across the Bay of Baiae, forming a massive bridge. Then he rode across it on his horse. It was the biggest floating construction project ever attempted. Caligula couldn't even swim. That didn't faze him. He was determined to thumb his nose at fate."

"That's useful information," Ara mumbles, already thinking up a strategy. "Petty jerk..."

Piper covers her mouth with both hands in stress. "The mortals have to see this, right? He can't just cut off all boat traffic in and out of the harbour."

"Oh, the mortals notice—Look."

"They're helping," Meg says, visibly pissed. "Even Nero never... He paid off the police, had lots of mercenaries, but he never showed off this much."

"Nero hides behind a frank attitude," Ara eyes the yachts. "Caligula is clearly a bully, and he wants people to see his power. Oh, Lester..." she says, with a hungry depth to her voice. "I'm going to have fun with this one."

Lester glances at her worryingly, he's seen what she can do when enraged, and he isn't sure he wants to see it again. Jason grips the handle of his sword. "Where do we even start? How do we find Caligula in all of that?"

"We start in the middle—the weakest point of a chain."

They approach the shore together and Jason caves, unable to keep it in. "It's not true, you know. The middle of a chain has the same tensile strength as everywhere else, assuming force is applied equally along the links."

Ara looks at him with amusement over Lester's aggravated scowl. "Are you making up for missing your physics lecture? You know what I meant!"

"I actually don't—Why attack in the middle?"

"Because... I don't know! They won't be expecting it?"

"Because it's the safest place for Caligula to hang out," Ara reasons. "No matter which side gets attacked, they have enough time to get him to safety from there—so many guards all around, and we're too smart and self-preserving to try the middle, right?" she sighs. "Amateur thinking."

"Looks like they're expecting anything."

"They don't know what to expect," Ara corrects, glowing white. "And to pack themselves up for everything only makes each defense equally weak."

"Yes, we get it, you're a top-tier General," Lester says grumpily, but his soul light is glowing, which means he enjoys Ara's display of brainpower more than he likes to admit. "Any suggestions on how to get on it?"

"Straight ahead," Ara smiles. "They don't think we're as shameless as they are—clearly, they haven't met me. This guy is paranoid and pissed that we blew up Macro's shop—an army of automatons all have gone to waste thanks to us, so he'll expect us to try and mess up his security systems, to enter through back doors, because he assumes we learn from our mistakes. Do we, Lester?"

"I refuse to humor that with an answer."

Ara grins. They reach the shore, and Piper gets them a lift with a sailboat. Halfway to their destination, Ara collapses in a sudden and deafening spiral of voices.

It isn't nice to have your mind split in two when you're trying to focus. One minute you're enjoying the fresh breeze of the ocean, and the next you're curled up, trying not to scream in a tiny boat AND standing in the middle of a battle.

I don't know how to narrate it in a way that makes any sense to follow, but I can tell you that while Lester is explaining how Caligula worshipped his sister to the point of suffocation and how the yachts are all named after her, my brain leaves it on a post-it note marked 'For later', while the other version of myself is stumbling across a battlefield with zombie-looking soldiers and people whom I think I know.

I'm running across Camp Jupiter, slicing things up on the go, but I can't tell Lester what's happening, because I don't know through which mouth the explanation is going to come. 

"Ara!" I whirl around in a frenzy, spotting Hazel a few feet ahead of me. I hear someone laugh and then see Leo riding Festus, beaming with joy at the sight of me. 

"Told you!" He says that while the dragon shoots fire at the creatures. "Told you praying would work!"

I just stare at them, probably looking confused and stressed, and Hazel, blessed her intuitive heart, realizes it's for the best if she simply throws me into the loop. "Look for Frank, he needs help the most," she points towards the river. I nod and run out.

My other self is having trouble following the conversations. Lester nudges my shoulder. "Ara, you think that's a good idea?"

I cling to that part of me long enough to speak. "Sorry, what?"

In the brief moment I do that, the me in Camp Jupiter blacks out, then I show up again, and I almost get stabbed in that split second of distraction. Jason repeats his idea to fly us up onto the yacht and asks if I think that's alright, and I nod, gesturing encouragingly so he gets moving.

I spot Frank and focus there, I call after him. "Praetor Zhang!"

The other side vanishes, and when it comes back, Lester is holding me. "Ara, you're not well," he eyes me with concern. "You fainted—what's the matter?"

Frank looks at me wide-eyed, mouth agape. "Ara... what..."

I speak again, risking the blackouts on Lester's side since it's more important to stay here. "How can I help?"

Frank points at the river. "I'm going to drown the lot of them."

"Cool." I search in my octopus and pull out a net-trap. "I'll help you do it."

Just like when we worked together to get Mars's blessing, Frank and I pounce on the enemy without mercy. He lures the creatures into my trap, and I sink them into the river. I make the net shrink and keep them below the surface, then squeeze them until there's nothing in there, and Frank stumbles to my side.

"Thank you," he pants. "I can't believe it's true—Leo said you were immortal, but..."

"I have to leave," I tell him. "I'm doing something important with Jason and Piper, and they need me, so I cannot linger. If I could..."

"I'll tell Leo you're okay, tell Apollo we won..." he says gravelly. "But there were casualties." I probably look devastated because he hurries to add. "You came at the right time, Ara. Leave now, Jason and Piper must be waiting."

I hug him. "I'll come back."

I shut down the line entirely.

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 30. Peach Blossoms

Summary: Benedict can't help the flustered, almost schoolboy manner in which he reacts. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 2,330 Listen to: 'Staring' -by Tipling Rock A/N: Bitches can't be left alone for two seconds i swear -Danny

Last night, Genovians were surprised by the arrival of two foreigners from the rainy lands of Britain at our masquerade ball. 

Benedict and Eloise Bridgerton, brother and sister of British noble blood and close friends with the Princesses (so much so that Mr Bridgerton was Princess Y/N's arts tutor during her season abroad), are to stay with the royal family, leaving us to wonder, is a union between nations happening soon? 

-Elsie Penworthy for the Genovian Daily Gazette, June 1816

Benedict is glad a servant came to find them, otherwise, they would've gotten lost in the hallways until noon. His sister immediately rushes into the room to sit next to Marie and serves herself a generous meal. She doesn't seem to care if her manners are lacking, but that's alright, because the rest of the people around the table are messier than she could ever be.

The twins are seated at the far end, books spread about their plates and drinks, notes and ink scattered on the table as they distractedly shovel food into their mouths. Their clothes are dishevelled as much as their light-brown hair, their hazel eyes are bleary, showing signs of discomfort caused by the drinks from the night prior.

Marie and Eloise gossip about the geniuses in attendance at the ball, no doubt judging overheard comments or costume choices, and next to them, Y/N is listening with a sleepy smile. Benedict is almost sure that she, like him, couldn't rest until hours after going to bed, the incoming avalanche of problems making a mess of their minds.

The parents are nowhere to be seen, and as the group greets him with different levels of enthusiasm, he blurts out the question: "Are the queen and king not joining us?"

"They were up and about earlier than us," you gesture at the chair in front of you, inviting him to sit. "Such is the life of the crown."

"You don't see them much, then?"

"We see them at dinner every day," Marie responds. "Y/N sees them more now that she's started her practicum with Mother."

"Have you started preparations?" A proud smile forms on Benedict's face. "And how are you finding it?"

"Quite rewarding," you admit in a satisfied tone. "I could almost dare to claim I'm a natural."

"You are a natural," Rowan says from the far end of the table. "Born for it and everything, providence granted you the skill to overcome the challenge."

You blush, burying your face behind a glass of juice. "Nonsense."

"I agree entirely with your brother," Benedict says sweetly, wanting to gift you praises for as long as he's still around to give them. After that, he turns to the twins. "Why are you so far away?"

"Mother forbade them to sit near us when they bring their research—sometimes they set small explosions."

"Except during dinner," Richard smiles innocently. "Last time we compromised a perfectly cooked turkey. It broke our hearts."

"Are you joining us later, brother?" Eloise asks, moving past the information as if she's already gotten used to the twins' peculiarities. "We're going to the lake."

"Am I invited?" He asks, pulling a plate to serve himself breakfast. "If you're including me out of pity, I beg you not. I'll be perfectly content exploring the castle—that is, if I'm allowed." He adds promptly, not wanting to sound like he's taking liberties in your home.

"You certainly are, but the plan wasn't just for us ladies," you reply amicably. "I was going to take Reaper for a ride; he gets stressed after the parade, and I like to race about to release the tension."

"Reaper?" Benedict grins. "Your black horse's name is Reaper?"

"Grim Reaper. She is quite the comedian," Marie comments, pulling a bowl of cream closer.

"You could join me," you continue unbothered. "I had intended to ask you in London, but time slipped by and I never got the chance."

Benedict can't help the flustered, almost schoolboy manner in which he reacts. He lets out a pleased little laugh, lowers his gaze, and scratches behind his ear. "Would I have to handle Reaper?"

"Sadly, my horse doesn't take kindly to other people handling him. You wish to ride on the back and hold my waist?" You reply jokingly, expecting him to deny any wishes to get nearer than is proper. 

Instead, his eyes narrow with a hint of challenge, and he responds in a carefree voice as he reaches for a glass. "I wouldn't mind it. You're a fine rider, after all."

You choke in response. Marie and the twins share a bemused glance before pretending not to be listening to the conversation. "P-Pardon?"

"I've seen you ride a horse plenty of times, I know you're good at it," he clarifies with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Yes, of course," you clear your throat, fighting off lewd memories.

Once at the lake, Benedict sits on a blanket and sketches while the girls splash around the shore, chasing each other and laughing in quite an unladylike manner. Peach blossoms around the lake give the scene an ethereal air, a sight that reminds him of home. The thought makes him stop drawing and begin writing a letter to his mother back in England.

Dear Mother—and Anthony, if he's there,

Eloise and I have reconnected with the princesses, and we are now enjoying the incredible privilege of spending the summer at their castle. My sister is beyond herself with the seemingly endless amenities, and she's made friends with several people, not just the royal family, though the princes seem quite fond of her—and before any of you get any ideas, I assure you it is all platonic. The twins are married to their branches of study and have little time to concern themselves with matters of the heart.

Speaking of... I know neither of you will like it, but it is quite noticeable that Eloise has fallen in love with this land and is probably not going to give it up easily, if ever. If I may speak on her behalf, I have hardly seen more accomplished women in any other place than here, and happier, too.

She would be safe and accompanied—the princes and Princess Marie are students at the College and will continue to be for at least another four and two years respectively—and I know my sister would not waste her time if allowed to explore beyond the restraints of our society's limitations.

Women rule the most powerful countries in our world—is it really that impossible to believe that our El might be a genius in the making? I have chosen to believe in her; I hope you do too. 

Hugs and kisses,

Benedict.

After two hours of sketching together and dipping your toes in the water, you take Benedict to the stables to familiarise with Reaper. The imposing stallion huffs and puffs when the man approaches, and you find it amusing how such a large man recoils at the sight of a horse you treat like a baby.

"He's testing you, but he won't hurt you. Right, Reaper?" You speak to the horse in a sweet voice.

"How did you end up riding this creature?" Benedict asks in a mix of awe and trepidation. "You're the size of his neck!"

"That is an exaggeration," you state patiently, "Reaper was born from my mother's horse, Baby."

"The one she was riding during the parade?"

"The very same," you smile, "she's had her since she was sixteen or so."

"And I suppose it's the same with you and er, Reaper?" He continues, keeping his distance.

"I got him when I turned ten," you explain, feeding him sugar cubes. "He's very loving and playful, but gets fussy when someone else tries to ride him. One time, Arthur tried to take the reins, you know, doing the gentlemanly thing, and Reaper almost killed him."

"Right," he says, looking at the horse hesitantly. "Well, is he willing to let me sit on the back?"

"You'll have to ask him," you say teasingly, stretching out a hand. "Come closer."

Benedict obeys, feeling safer with you than if he were to deal with the creature by himself. You steer him closer while petting the horse's mane, maintaining eye contact with Benedict as you do. When you guide his hand to the animal's muzzle, it feels strangely intimate. He dares to run one hand over Reaper, and the way you look at him as he leans in to kiss the horse and praise him makes the initial apprehension vanish entirely. 

Benedict feels ten times taller now, manlier even, which feels odd coming from an action so tender. You get on your horse, holding the reins steady while Benedict pulls himself up against you, confidently wrapping his arms around your waist. "Ready?"

Benedict smiles, squeezing you affectionately. "Never."

"Tell me," you begin while setting a good pace for Reaper, "how's Britain?"

"Less cloudy since you left—yet somehow less colourful for the same reason."

"Flatterer." You're glad that he can see your face. "And your family?"

"Colin and Penelope have received their firstborn. Francesca and John are somewhere in Scotland, being utterly happy in silence, I imagine."

"Do you miss them?"

"Interesting question," he tilts his head. "I'm accustomed, I guess, to seeing my siblings married off."

"But it hasn't been that long since they started to leave! Your sister Daphne got married... what was it, three years ago?"

"Was it really?" He narrows his eyes in thought. "Funny. Feels like she's always been married to Simon."

"When I was little, thinking about my siblings getting married used to make me cry."

"And now?"

"Now I think they'll never marry," you laugh. "Rowan and Richard love science and dedicate all their time to it. I hope it makes them happy forever, if that's what they've chosen. Marie... well, she cannot make up her mind, she's had plenty of beaus, and has all the freedom in the world to pick whoever she desires, but I believe that—"

"That same freedom is keeping her undecisive?" Benedict finishes with a grin. "I've heard that before."

"It feels like I'll have them forever."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Benedict hums. "Three years ago, I was 27 and felt like it would take ages before anyone decided to leave the nest. Now, three of my younger siblings are married, my oldest brother has a child, and Eloise... well, she's not going to stay after this summer. A lot can happen when you least expect it."

"Well, one thing is certain," you sigh, "no matter what, everyone always ends where they're meant to be."

"Eloise's departure might sting more than I'm willing to admit, though," he reveals bashfully, chuckling weakly. "She's the only one in my family who understands what it's like to be... different."

You hum, carefully moving through the subject. "Does she know about... You know, your preferences?"

"God, no! And she does not need to. That's private."

"I know my sister's previous partners," you shrug. "We don't share everything in explicit detail, but we like talking about it. It's liberating."

"I can talk to my brothers about the women I've been with, but it's a whole different thing to speak about the men. I don't want them to see me differently."

"Do you think they'll react negatively?"

"Yes," he shakes his head, keeping one arm around your waist while his free hand rubs his thigh. "No. I... I don't know. I want to believe they would love me no matter what."

Benedict leans back when you look over your shoulder briefly to face him. "I think they do love you like that, Ben. What we like or don't like doesn't make us. What we are is what we do."

"In that case, they don't have much to love," he says in a self-deprecating manner.

"I disagree." You make your horse advance more into the thick forest area. "Eloise told me your career has been rather prolific in the last six months."

"Is that all I am, then? My career?" He slides off the horse as soon as you reach your arranged destination.

You raise a brow, following him with your gaze. "Is there something else you'd like to be?"

"I'd like to be left alone," he says defensively.

You tense. "I apologise."

Benedict makes a face and turns to look at you. "I do not mean... I've had this conversation many times before with fellow artists and..."

"And?" You dismount Reaper.

Benedict watches your graceful landing with utter focus before responding. "And it goes nowhere. Half of them see art as a hobby, something to waste their time in, to pay for their vices... The ones that share my opinion are all about ambition and merit... But I just want it to mean something. Art is the haven to a very fragile part of my soul."

You tie Reaper's reins to a tree, smiling as you do. "I'm glad to hear you haven't turned your back on your haven since I left, then. Does it make you truly happy?"

Benedict laughs. "I suffer greatly, which is almost the same."

"You sound passionate indeed." You remove your gloves and put them in the saddlebag. "Which can be painfully blissful. Or is it blissfully painful? Either way, it comes with being a true artist, I think."

"It comes with being in love," he says earnestly. "I suppose I am happy. I'm thinking of trying abstract techniques for my future pieces. You seemed to think my dove was quite the artwork."

"You'll have something new to teach me, then," you smile, moving closer.

"Teach you?" Benedict raises a brow, highly aware of each of your movements. "Am I still your tutor?"

"I don't remember dismissing you. Do you?"

"Not quite," he hums, eyes flickering to your mouth. "But I don't remember agreeing to be your guest of honour either, so memory is failing me lately." He fixes his gaze on yours, a small, teasing smile on his face. "In any case, one can't teach the abstract, it is as your imagination makes it."

"Benedict Bridgerton," you stand right in front of him, "it sounds like a style made for you."

"And you."

"Not in the least. But being around you feels that way sometimes." You soften your voice on purpose. "If our former agreement is afoot, would you kiss me right this moment?"

"I live to serve," he mumbles, cupping your face and closing the distance.

Next Chapter –>

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Jason my shayla 😭❤️-Danny Words: 3,001 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'i don't want to watch the world end with someone else' –by Clinton Kane

LI: The Rumors Are True, I Murder People

"Define not safe," Piper says once they reach the dormitories.

"Monsters have infiltrated the faculty. I'm keeping an eye on the humanities teacher. Pretty sure she's an empousa. I already had to slay my AP Calculus teacher, because he was a blemmyae."

"Percy has great stories to match," Ara says. "Want me to take care of them?"

Jason smiles, but Ara can tell something is amiss. Before, he used to have this little spark that hinted at a rebellious, cynical sense of humour in him that Ara couldn't help but coax out of him; now it was all gone. "It's alright, I think they're here to keep an eye on me, not to kill me. Come on in."

"Your sister says hello, by the way," Lester mentions as he spots her picture on the wall.

The boy perks up a bit. "You saw her?"

Lester explains the whole journey they've been on while Ara examines the monopoly board on Jason's desk. Meg joins her, and Ara points at it, speaking lowly. "This is what makes Jason one of the best demigods of our generation."

Meg raises a brow. "That he plays Monopoly?"

Ara laughs. "No. This is a map of a bigger hill on Camp Jupiter. Roman demigods have this spot where they worship the gods, but last summer, Jason discovered that not all the gods had a temple, and he vowed to build one for each so none would feel left out, to bring fairness and peace."

Meg scowls. "Sounds like a lot of work."

"It is," Ara rubs the back of her neck, sighing. "I help him sometimes—or used to, before I got caught up in this quest. We need more people like Jason, willing to put in the work and leave the world a better place than we found it."

All the outlets in the room explode, and Ara pulls Meg to her side, looking at Jason in alarm. Lester explains apologetically. "Told him Leo's alive."

"I can't even..." Jason finally sits on his bed defeatedly. "I don't know whether to laugh or yell."

"Don't limit yourself, do both," Piper mutters from her spot on the floor.

Ara frowns. "You know, Leo had a tough time too, he spent all those months travelling, and the last few he got stuck—"

"We never said he didn't," Piper argues. "Just that it made our searches a bit pointless."

"Sometimes it's like that," Ara admits. "The important part is that you tried."

"It's always about trying with you..." Piper grumbles.

"Excuse me?"

"This thing is cool," Meg interrupts, using her inability to hold focus for good. She's pointing at Jason's Monopoly board. "Ara just explained it to me."

"Kymopoleia? My goodness, I haven't thought about her in centuries! Why did the Romans build her a shrine?" Lester asks in surprise.

"They haven't yet, but I made her a promise. She... helped us out on our voyage to Athens."

"You're looking at Mr Pontifex Grace, the spokesman of godlings on earth—and my pride and joy," Ara playfully squeezes his face, and Jason gives her a minor electric shock, making her jump back. "Ouch!"

"I told Kymopoleia I'd make sure none of the gods and goddesses were forgotten either at Camp Jupiter or Camp Half-Blood," he says, pushing the glasses on his face.

Ara adds happily. "And he's done great, can't wait to begin construction."

"He's done a ton of work on his designs. You should see his sketchbook," Piper says meekly.

Jason glances at the girl with a light frown, apparently Piper's quite good at pushing more than one person's buttons lately. "Well, the designs won't win any awards. I'll need Annabeth to help with the actual blueprints."

"Honouring the gods is a noble endeavour, you should be proud," Lester comments.

Jason glances at Ara as if there is something troubling him, but Meg speaks again. "How come Potina gets a house but Quirinus gets a hotel?"

"There's not really any logic to it, I just used the tokens to mark positions."

"Demeter is cool. You should put the cool gods next to her."

"Meg," Lester scolds her, "we can't arrange the gods by coolness. That would lead to too many fights."

"Besides, he can't show favouritism of any kind, as Pontifex, he's only doing his part in making sure everyone gets heard," Ara mentions, placing an elbow on Jason's shoulder, that he shrugs off playfully.

"Anyway," Piper continues. "The reason we came: the Burning Maze."

"You knew we were coming to get you," Ara turns to the boy.

Jason clasps his hands together on his lap and looks down. "I didn't tell you everything." Piper stares at him, her annoyance palpable. "I—I reached the Sibyl, I can't even explain how. I just stumbled into this big room with a pool of fire. The Sibyl was... standing across from me, on this stone platform, her arms chained with some fiery shackles."

"Herophile," Lester provides. "Her name is Herophile."

"I wanted to free her, obviously. But she told me it wasn't possible. It had to be..." he nods at Lester. "She told me it was a trap. The whole maze. For Apollo and Ara. She told me you'd eventually come find me. You and her—Meg. Herophile said there was nothing I could do except give you help if you asked for it. She said to tell you, Apollo—you have to rescue her." He looks at Ara again, and she gets a clear message this time. Help.

"What else did Herophile say?" Piper presses.

"Pipes," Jason winces, and he tries again. "Piper, look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's just–"

"What else did she say?"

"The Sibyl told me where I could find the emperor. Well, more or less. She said Apollo would need the information. He would need... a pair of shoes. I know that doesn't make much sense."

"I'm afraid it does." 

"Can we kill the emperor while we're stealing his shoes? Did the Sibyl say anything about that?" Meg asks.

"She just said that Piper and I... we couldn't do anything more by ourselves. It had to be Apollo— and Ara had to be there. If we tried... it would be too dangerous."

Piper laughs dryly. "Jason, we've been through literally everything together. I can't even count how many dangers we've faced, how many times we've almost died. Now you're telling me you lied to me to, what, protect me? To keep me from going after Caligula?"

"I knew you would have done it. No matter what the Sibyl said."

"Then that would've been my choice, not yours."

"And I would've insisted on going with you, no matter the risk. But the way things have been between us... Working as a team has been hard. I thought—I decided to wait until Apollo found me. I messed up, not telling you. I'm sorry."

Although she feels terrible for it, Ara can't help but be thankful for Leo. He took every stone thrown at their relationship like a champ. He fought and stood by her, even when Ara couldn't give him a reason to. But then again, they were meant to fall in love...

"This isn't about you and me, Jason," Piper's irritation increases. "Satyrs and dryads are dying. Caligula's planning to turn himself into a new sun god. Tonight's the new moon, and Camp Jupiter is facing some kind of huge threat. Meanwhile, Medea is in that maze, throwing around Titan fire—"

"Medea?" Jason makes the lightbulb burst, and Ara pulls back Meg, cursing lowly. "Back up. What's Medea got to do with this? What do you mean about the new moon and Camp Jupiter?" Piper explains everything, and Jason looks even more depressed afterwards. "I had no idea."

"You couldn't have known," Ara says, sitting beside him. "Even dreams are blocked right now, only until Apollo showed up, we've had ways to weave through, but we don't know half of it. Besides," Ara gives Piper a look. "If the oracle said you couldn't have worked alone, then you couldn't. Prophecies are not to be taken lightly, especially in these times."

Meg speaks. "So, you going to help us or what?"

"Of—of course," Jason says. "We'll need a car. And I'll need an excuse to leave campus."

Ara is about to say she'll get everything done, but Jason's hand tightens around her wrist, shooting a rush of anxiety, so she keeps quiet. Piper stands without noticing the exchange, probably used to being Jason's main support. "Fine. I'll go talk to the office. Meg, come with me, just in case we run into that empousa. We'll meet you at the front gate. And, Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"If you're holding anything else back..."

"Right. I—I get it."

Piper glances at Ara, and that's the second time she gets the message loud and clear: Get it out of him, or else. She watches the girl leave. Meg hesitates before following. "Go on," Lester encourages her. "We'll help Jason get ready."

Ara turns to her friend with a serious expression. "You're not coming back to this school if I can help it."

The boy shakes his head. "Ara..."

"I know," she moves her hand to hold his. "But it's not helping."

He doesn't respond. Lester closes the door and turns to them with a severe look in his eyes. "All right. What did the Sibyl really tell you?"

Jason gets up and takes his jacket off, hanging it in his wardrobe. He also takes off his tie, every movement mechanical. He takes his sword and hangs it on his belt. "What makes you think I'm holding back?"

"Please," Lester rolls his eyes. "Don't try to be evasively prophetic with the god of evasive prophecies."

"You asked for help, Jason," Ara says with concern. "Maybe you didn't mean it, but... I sense things."

"You've always sensed things."

"She means she's immortal," Lester explains plainly. "Demigods call on her, and she helps them. If she says you were sending off signals, it must be bad."

Jason stares at her aghast. "You're what?"

"It's a long story, I'll tell you all about it once we're out of here," Ara says and crosses her arms. "Now tell me, how can I help you?"

Jason decides to drop it for the sake of efficiency and starts explaining. "First of all, it wasn't exactly a prophecy. It was more like a series of quiz-show questions."

"Yes. Herophile delivers information that way."

"And you know how prophecies are. Even when the Oracle is friendly, they can be hard to interpret."

"Jason..."

"Fine." He looks up from rolling up his sleeves, defensive. "The Sibyl said... She told me if Piper and I went after the emperor, one of us would die."

"Die," Lester echoes after a heavy pause.

"Yeah."

"Not disappear, not wouldn't come back, not suffer defeat."

"Nope. Die. Or more accurately, three letters, starts with D."

"Not dad, then... Or dog."

"If you seek out the emperor, one of you will dog? No, Apollo, the word was die."

"Still, that could mean many things. It could mean a trip to the Underworld. It could mean a death such as Leo suffered, where you pop right back to life. It could mean—"

"Now you're being evasive," Jason raises a brow. "The Sibyl meant death. Final. Real. No replays. You had to be there. The way she said it. Unless you happen to have an extra vial of the physician's cure in your pockets..."

Once again, Ara realizes just how incredibly lucky Leo and she are now, living in borrowed time—stolen time that maybe, just maybe, they might've taken from their own friends.

"Still..." Lester says helplessly. 

"You're weirdly calm," Jason tells Ara. "Being an immortal has taken the weight off the word?"

She eyes him, expression unreadable. "You know why I'm calm. I was in your shoes last summer, when Leo and I..." Ara shakes her head. "Gods, Jason." She hugs him. She's always had this need to coddle her loved ones, but nowadays, that nurturing has extended to the entirety of the demigod race, and if there is one demigod in desperate need of a comforting presence aside from Leo, that is Jason Grace.

Ara feels him rein in his emotions, squeezing her as if she's the one who needs consoling. "Well, that's exactly why I'm telling you, Birdy." He leans back to look at her. "There are times when we are willing to sacrifice everything. I'm ready for it."

"Let's assume you're correct," Lester intervenes. "You didn't tell Piper the truth because...?"

"You know what happened to her dad." Jason breaks the hug with Ara, but she keeps one hand on his arm, absorbing the heaviness without him noticing. "Last year, when we saved him from the fire giant on Mount Diablo... Mr McLean's mind wasn't in good shape. Now, with all the stress of the bankruptcy and everything else, can you imagine what would happen if he lost his daughter too?"

"Yes, but you can't know how the prophecy will unfold."

"I can't let it unfold with Piper dying. She and her dad are scheduled to leave town at the end of the week. She's actually... I don't know if excited is the right word, but she's relieved to get out of LA. Ever since I've known her, the thing she's wanted most is more time with her dad. Now they have a chance to start over. She can help her dad find some peace. Maybe find some peace herself."

"You wanted to get her safely out of town—Then you planned to find the emperor yourself."

Jason shrugs in admission, and Ara mumbles again. "Gods, Jace..."

"Well, with you two and Meg. I knew you'd be coming to find me. Herophile said so. If you'd just waited another week—"

"Then what? You would've let us lead you cheerily off to your death? How would that have affected Piper's peace of mind, once she found out?"

Jason looks at her pleadingly, and she lowers her hand to his, squeezing it tightly. "You don't get it, Lester," she says.

Piper is right, the kind of friendship she has with Jason might not be like the one she has with Lily, but it's tightly knitted nonetheless. They were compelled into leadership, convinced that it was their place, and then left to deal with all its downsides alone, always different enough to not fit in with any group. They had lost people while being too young, gotten things just to lose them; they had been changed and worn out until becoming just a memory of themselves. All for what? They were going to die sooner than either of them would've wanted.

Lester tries again, sensing the vulnerability of the teens. "You don't want Piper to die. I understand that. She wouldn't want you to die. But avoiding prophecies never works. And keeping secrets from friends, especially deadly secrets... that really never works. It'll be our job to face Caligula together, steal that homicidal maniac's shoes and get away without any five-letter words that start with D."

"Drama?" Jason offers, unable to help himself. 

"You were always a nerd," Ara replies, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. "Besides, there is a silver lining there."

Jason raises a brow. "Yeah?" 

"You said the oracle told you I had to be here. I don't think she meant it as in helping Apollo get things done. I think she meant I had to be with you and Piper."

"Because you say so?"

"Partly." She smiles. "But just like Lester said, that's my thing now. If a demigod asks for help, I show up."

Jason looks at the picture of his sister. "If anything happens to me—"

"Stop," Lester starts, but Jason presses.

"If it does, if I can't keep my promise to Kymopoleia, would you take my mock-up design to Camp Jupiter? The sketchbooks for new temples at both camps—they're right there on the shelf."

"You'll take them yourself. Your new shrines will honour the gods. It's too worthy a project not to succeed."

"Worthy doesn't always matter. Like what happened to you. Have you talked to Dad since...?"

Ara laughs, then shuts up abruptly. "Sorry."

"Zeus hasn't spoken to me since I became mortal," Lester ignores her. "Before that, my memory is fuzzy. I remember the battle last summer at the Parthenon. I remember Zeus zapping me. After that, until the moment I woke up plummeting through the sky in January—it's a blank."

"I know that feeling, having six months of your life taken away. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"What could you have done?"

"I mean at the Parthenon. I tried to talk sense into Zeus. I told him he was wrong to punish you. He wouldn't listen."

"Ah, yes, Ara mentioned that," Lester blushes. "Thank you."

Jason steps towards him and holds him by the shoulders encouragingly. "Promise me one thing. Whatever happens, when you get back to Olympus, when you're a god again, remember. Remember what it's like to be human."

Ara gulps, heavily affected by the idea. She's already failing at that, but of course, of course, Jason would say something like that. Level-headed, perfect Roman Jason Grace, her opposite. Lester locks eyes with her over the boy's shoulder, and she knows they're thinking the same thing. Why couldn't he be the immortal one? He's ten times worthier. 

For Jason, for Meg, and all of those demigods who don't have a say, they have to cling to their fortune and make the best of it. "I promise," Lester replies hoarsely. A brave thing to do in Ara's eyes. "I will try my utmost to remember my human experience, as long as you promise to tell Piper the truth about the prophecy."

Jason lightly pats his shoulders. "Deal. Speaking of which, the girls are probably waiting."

"One more thing," Lester adds. "About Piper. It's just... you seem like such a good power couple. Did you really—did you break up with her to make it easier for her to leave LA?"

"Oh my gods, dude," Ara scowls. "Seriously?"

Jason looks at him intently. "Did she tell you that?"

"No," Lester blushes again. "But Mellie seemed, ah, upset with you."

"I'm okay with Mellie blaming me. It's probably better."

"Do you mean it's not true?"

"Lester!" Ara chides. "Stop being nosy!"

"Piper ended it," Jason replies over her complaint. "That was months ago, way before the Burning Maze. Now, come on. Let's go find Caligula."

He walks out, leaving Lester and Ara alone. "Way to ruin the moment, Lesser."

"Well, you didn't want to tell us!" He argues stubbornly.

"I told you my powers don't work like that—!"

"I can hear you!" Jason calls from outside the room. "You're both nosy, now get moving!"

Next Chapter –>

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 29. Lemon Blossoms

Summary: Considering the way your entire family ran over him like a pack of wolves, he's starting to believe you might be the most harmless of the lot. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,653 Listen to: 'Slow It Down' -by Benson Boone A/N: Two chapters this week cause I have no self-control -Danny

"Where is Arthur?"

"Most strange thing," says Richard, pretending to be perplexed. "He said he needed to rearrange some affairs in private—I wonder what is troubling him so."

You give him a look but say nothing, struggling to conceal your amusement. "I see. And have you met Eloise?"

"Lovely girl. Where is Mr Bridgerton?"

"He's gone to remove some layers, the poor man was sweating all over." You lean closer and pull Rowan into the conversation. "Who put you up to this?"

Rowan swallows the doughnut he'd been devouring and scowls at you. "Up to what?"

"Was it Marie?" You press. "I doubt Paula would've considered you capable of—"

"Dear sister, it was evident you and Mr Bridgerton had unfinished business," Rowan replies grumpily. "And Arthur is planning to make his intentions clear this summer, so why are you complaining?"

"I don't know what to do to get rid of him," you say in exasperation. "One shag six years ago and the man thinks we're betrothed! But that doesn't mean I want Benedict involved in this!"

Richard grins. "Arthur's too bookish to understand human nature. He decided many years ago that you would be his lady."

"Use Benedict," Rowan insists. "He's your friend, is he not? And as a painter, he could take advantage of being introduced to potential clients in our nobility."

"Which reminds me," you look around the ballroom. "Have you noticed we don't have any renowned people of the arts?"

Richard smiles. "You'll dedicate yourself to the arts? Should've known, what with your infatuation with the painter..."

You discreetly kick his shin. "With you two focused on chemistry and biology and Marie hoarding our equality agenda along with Mother, I have to find my own unique touch to the Genovian crown, don't I?"

"Dad gave up on botany and went back to zoology last month," Rowan says. "You could be our botanist?"

You smirk, remembering when you lied to Ben to keep your identity a secret. "I've been told weeds indeed love me."

Benedict walks back into the ballroom wearing a linen shirt and brown cotton trousers, the fake sword hanging on his belt, and the high boots the only remaining pieces of his knight costume. He's looking for Eloise when an older man stops in front of him: he's face to face with King consort Nicholas.

Benedict stands there like a deer, and then, to his shock, the older man bursts into laughter. Before he can even process the reaction, he gets pulled and guided further into the room. "Mr Bridgerton! Did my daughter invite you?"

"No, your highness," he stumbles over his own feet, "it was the princes."

"The twins! I didn't know you were friends. How wonderful! I was beginning to worry that those two had no attachments to the real world besides their specimens! Mr Bridgerton—may I call you Benedict? The thing is, Y/N told us so much about you that I feel like I know you."

King Nicholas tightens his grip on Benedict's shoulder, his clear blue eyes turn slightly menacing. "Such a well-intentioned, educated young man... Does she know you're here?"

"Yes, your highness," Benedict replies tersely. "I spoke to her in the gardens."

"Where is she now?"

"With her brothers," he responds, happy to spot her at the opposite corner and not near enough to give her father the wrong idea. "I had to change my clothes, they were too suffocating for the occasion." Although he's choking on air right now all the same.

"I won't repeat myself, young Benedict," the King speaks, keeping a smile on his face but a vice grip on his shoulder. "My daughter won't let it slide, but believe me, if you harm her, she won't be the only one to make you regret it."

Benedict maintains eye contact as if King Nicholas is pointing a gun at his head. "I understand, Your Highness."

"Good!" The man nudges him forward amicably, no trace of hostility in his manner as they go. "Let's return you to my daughter."

"Why didn't you tell Benedict that Arthur isn't your intended?"

"Because his manner of asking vexed me. What does he care?"

"You know he's here for you!"

"For all I know, he might be running from something, nothing assures me he's been on his best behaviour in London."

"Well, be as it may, he has perfect timing," Paula continues. "The new rumour says that Arthur will try to make his intentions clear during the dinner send-off. That is three days from now, and you still have to attend the charity concert and your aunt Lily's—"

"So you suggest I use Benedict as a shield?"

"He used you to escape that young lady last season!" Paula huffs. "He does this and you're even!"

"Even!" You exclaim. "What are we even playing? I'm in love with him, and he's— back!" You squeak, spotting him on your right with your father beside him.

"My dear, your brothers planned to surprise you with his arrival, I heard." Your father speaks swiftly, apparently having not listened to what you were saying just now. "His sister is also in attendance?"

"She's with Marie and Mother," you gesture towards the platform placed as the centrepiece of the event.

"Have you paid your respects to our Queen, Mr Bridgerton?"

Benedict blushes, but you speak before he can. "We distracted him, Father, he was caught up in a royal windwhirl."

"I have no doubt," the man smiles. "Come forth, then!" You follow them anxiously, Paula catching up to your pace. "My heart!" King Nicholas raises his voice. "Look who I found snooping around our flower vases searching for inspiration!"

Queen Amelia smiles. "Mr Bridgerton! You shouldn't leave your sister alone with strangers."

"Princess Marie is far from a stranger, Your Highness, so is the rest of your family," he bows, trying to summon a smile, though his nerves are so frayed he wouldn't be surprised if it looks like a wince.

"He's going to be my guest of honour, mother," you blurt out before you lose your courage. "At the concert and Aunt Lily's dinner. We're celebrating the bright minds of our nation, and Ben—I mean, Mr Bridgerton, is just as bright. It's good to introduce new faces at events where everyone already knows each other, so we motivate them to keep coming. He'll be quite popular."

Last time, Queen Mia hadn't paid much attention to the man who was to teach her eldest daughter. Now, as she looks at his handsome face and bright green eyes, she pauses. She looks at him, at Nicholas, and then at Y/N. "What about Lord Dickens? Wasn't he your companion this summer?"

"Not this time," you state. "We could both use the distance to... broaden our horizons."

Your mother raises a brow. She looks at Nicholas, his bemused smirk telling her all she needs to know. "I see."

King Nicholas clears his throat. "Mr Bridgerton, are you and your sister staying with relations?"

"They stay at the Lemon Blossoms Inn," Marie responds for them.

"Wonderful! I know the innkeeper, it'll be easy to get your luggage moved by noon tomorrow."

"Moved?" Benedict asks in concern.

"You think we'll let you stay at an Inn when you're a family friend?" Your father laughs. "No, you'll get a room by the twins' wing, and Eloise will be with the girls. We have plenty of space, as you'll see once we take you to the castle."

Eloise frowns. "This isn't the castle?"

"This? No! This state is the guest house! All year we receive ambassadors, science folk, and all kinds of honourable guests, so they stay here and we look after them—they don't sacrifice comfort in order to get privacy, and you will be no exception."

"Your highness, I assure you the Inn is comfortable enough—"

"Mr Bridgerton, accept our offer," Queen Mia presses. "Eloise has been invited to tomorrow's activities at the castle, and it'll be much easier if you stay with us, think of your sister."

Benedict clenches his jaw before relenting, showing a grateful yet stiff smile. "Thank you."

"Tonight we must return to the Inn," Eloise says, wanting to give his brother a victory, knowing he's likely to collapse otherwise. "I'm afraid my comfort demands it. I left my, uhm, special pillow there."

Marie laughs. "Oh, that is quite understandable. Y/N doesn't go anywhere without her bear—"

"That's all settled then," you interrupt quickly. "Mr Bridgerton, I owe you a dance."

He doesn't fight you this time. Considering the way your entire family ran over him like a pack of wolves, he's starting to believe you might be the most harmless of the lot. "I'll be honoured, your highness."

You take a spot amongst the dancing couples and apologise simultaneously. Both of you look at each other, realise it's absurd, and laugh. You speak again. "You know, I'm tired of overthinking every little thing I do around others."

Benedict smiles and lightly squeezes your hand. "Me too."

"What if we make a promise to be unapologetically ourselves around one another? This isn't London, so you can be as genuine as you want."

He decides to start right that second. "I thought about writing to you every week. The truth is... I don't want us to stop being friends. It makes me happy, and I don't know why that is frightening me."

"Because you overthink," you reply wisely. "Your Queen once told me that the reason why I'm so clumsy is because my body can't listen when my mind is saying more than one thing at a time, and that the only way to overcome it is by practising."

Benedict's smile gets wider the more he speaks to you. "Practising what, exactly?"

"In your case, I suppose speaking your mind," you squeeze his hand, too. "With time, it'll be less scary, until one day you'll be completely used to it."

"Has it worked for you? Being out and about at social events?"

"It's worked wonders! Today, my only misfortune was when Lord Dickens cornered me—" You interrupt your rambling, but it's too late, Benedict's expression grows mischievous.

"That's no way to talk about your intended," he says, "unless... he's not." You part your lips, search for a proper excuse, but again, it's too late. "Don't bother," he concludes, grinning cheekily.

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 28. The Knight

Summary: Even now, as you talk and he gets the same exhilarating feeling from the simple act, he doesn't know what he wants from you. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,851 Listen to: 'Do I Wanna Know?' -by Hozier A/N: Ben gave me major Mr Darcy in this chapter and I'm very proud of it 2nd A/N. I cannot function properly after that sneak peek I had to get this out now -Danny

Lord Dickens takes the opportunity and does it swiftly, scurrying through the crowd without looking to make his intentions clear. Your pulse is racing, and every colour in the room seems brighter, but it has nothing to do with the man holding your hand. The thought of seeing Benedict again makes your knees weak; all the moments of intimacy come back renewed, and you can almost feel the heat of his breath against your thighs.

You search for his tall figure, but the hedges grow high, so you can't see or hear more than what's in front of you. Arthur guides you through the maze until you reach its centre, stopping right next to the fountain. He chose quite the romantic setting, but it stirs absolutely no butterflies in your stomach.

"Arthur," you begin, deciding to have an honest talk now that it's just the two of you. "I know—"

"Please, let me," he says, stopping you by placing a hand on your wrist. He's sweating. "You're a smart woman, Y/N, you know what comes next, but allow me to—"

"Y/N!" Eloise runs to you and wraps her arms around you. Months ago, the girl wouldn't have been caught holding royalty like this, but helping Pen placed you as a lady worthy of her animosity and affections. "You look beautiful!"

You squeeze her in your arms as relief—and guilt—washes over you. Lord Dickens blinks, having trouble understanding the scene before him. No one but your family had ever approached you with such liberties. No one except him, perhaps, and even he is most careful not to touch you in a manner that could be seen as bold.

"You make a splendid bandit!" You lean back to appreciate Eloise's costume. "It suits you perfectly."

Marie turns the corner with a knight following close, which you mistake as part of her guard for a moment. "There you are! Sorry, Y/N, she recognised your voice and immediately ran to find you."

Your sister speaks apologetically, but you can see the sparkle in her eye. You don't look back at the knight lingering behind Marie yet, but you know who he is, and the anticipation of things is too sweet to break it yet.

"It's alright," you hold Eloise still. "Lord Dickens, let me introduce you to my very good friend, Eloise Bridgerton. We met in London."

"Pleased to meet you," Arthur bows, his smile a little confused. "How are you finding Genovia, Miss Bridgerton?"

"Everything is exactly as I expected from the moment I got to know your Princess—and better in ways I hadn't imagined!"

"Have you visited our College?" You ask, then turn to Arthur. "Eloise wishes to further her education. Lord Dickens studied there, you see, he can tell you what it's like! My brothers are currently studying there as well, but since they're hosting the ball, I don't think we'll—"

"Ah, there you are!" Rowan's voice comes from the path you and Arthur had taken to get here. You'd say he followed you out, and if Eloise hadn't interrupted you, he might've done it. But of course, that's all speculation. "Father is looking for you, something about dancing before the night ends? Oi, is that Eloise Bridgerton you're holding, sister?"

You let go of the girl. "It is indeed. Have you met her already?"

"Haven't had the pleasure. Do you know who this is, Dickens?"

"Uhm—"

Rowan stretches out his hand and shakes Eloise's effusively. "Nice to meet you! I'm Rowan Devereaux. It's my birthday, you know?"

"I know," Eloise laughs, removing her hand, though not annoyed. "Happy Birthday, Your Royal Highness."

"You should go to Father, Y/N..." Marie starts, taking Eloise away. "Rowan, why don't we bring Eloise inside? I took her before she could even get a glass of lemonade to freshen up! And it is a warm night..."

"Certainly! I shall introduce her to Richard. He'll be happy to meet a like-minded lady, heaven knows we haven't got any in the family!"

"If I don't punch you," you say, side-eyeing him. "It's only because I'm the princess and must behave as such in front of our subjects."

Rowan laughs, playing the obnoxious prince to the max and draping an arm over Arthur's shoulders. "Come along, Dickens, let's make sure Miss Bridgerton feels at home amongst our crowd, or we'll lose her to Britain, and no one wants that! Poor thing already had the misfortune to be born there..."

He keeps a tight hold on the Lord while Marie takes the amused girl away, already talking to her in low whispers about god knows what. Benedict attempts to retreat through the path he'd come from, but you speak without looking back. "Don't even think about it." You turn to him, but he's wearing a ridiculous helmet that conceals his face. "Come and greet me properly."

The knight remains unmoving for another five seconds, then approaches you slowly. He stops about three steps away and removes his helmet: Benedict's hair is messy and sticking to his temples, his cheeks are flushed, though you can't tell if it's thanks to the heat or fluster. His eyes are fixed on you, half-lively, half-terrified.

"That is quite the costume," you state, holding back a smile.

The corners of his mouth twitch slightly before he replies. "I could say the same of yours. If you can call that scant piece of fabric a costume."

"What an impertinent thing to say to a royal princess," you reply, even if your insides are already fluttering at his teasing. "Do you think it wise to be cheeky? You're not in London, I could have you locked away for the night."

Benedict's smile tilts to a side as always, boyishly charming. "Forgive me, Your Highness, I forget myself. I thought I was talking to the critter I met in my country, you see, the twigs and leaves on you certainly made me believe so."

"I'm pretending to be a nymph."

"More like a siren," he says, moving a step closer.

"Are you implying I lured you here?"

He seems to gather himself then, clearing his throat. "Eloise needed a companion. Colin is on his honeymoon and Anthony is travelling with Kate, so it could only be me."

"What of Violet?"

"Mother?" Benedict laughs, and the noise awakens a low heat in your stomach. "She might be open-minded to a fault, but a visit to Genovia would've sent her to an early grave."

"She didn't appear so feeble to me..."

"She's... accepting," he says, choosing his words carefully. "But to live your entire life one way, makes it quite a shock when you encounter another."

"You look fine."

"I'm younger," he replies, "and a troublemaker, to put it simply. Genovia fits me like a glove."

"You're a grown man now. I would've liked sending you a present, you know?" You say before he can redirect the conversation. "You know what I think of people in their thirties, and I'm really proud of what you've accomplished in a year." You grow bashful. "But I didn't know if you wanted to hear from me..."

Benedict doesn't know it either. Even now, as you talk and he gets the same exhilarating feeling from the simple act, he doesn't know what he wants from you. He lowers his gaze to the helmet he's holding. "You are free to do as you please, Your Highness, I remain your servant."

"Very well," you reply. "Then let us return to the ballroom and dance."

He's reluctant to comply, as usual. "Wearing this? I can't even walk without feeling stupid."

"Please? I miss my dance partner."

"What about your Mr Dickens?"

"Lord Dickens," you correct him on impulse. "What about him?"

"Is he not your intended?"

You pause. On the one hand, you want to laugh, and on the other, you take offence. You shouldn't, but his ridiculous comment makes you want to press a very real sword against his chest and corner him into the hedge. "Since when are my wishes of less importance than those of a man you don't know?"

"I never said—"

"You're implying it. The papers say I've been claimed, so now what I want doesn't matter?"

"What I meant is that I have no place here, as you so kindly put it just a few moments ago," he shoots back, making her lose a bit of courage. "This isn't London."

"I didn't—"

"You implied it."

You both fall silent. Never before have the two of you acted with such hostility towards one another. It was always another emotion disguised as annoyance, Benedict's nerves concealed behind irritation, or your insecurities dressed up as arrogance. 

This is not how you wanted this encounter to go, but now you don't know how to fix it. You wish you could wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him, and beg him to stay and make you happy, but it's not up to you. He's the only thing in life that you cannot rule over.

"Benedict," you speak, trying once more. "Let us be friends. I heard you'll be staying here for at least two weeks. In London, you made me feel at home, let me return the favour."

The knight takes a moment to consider, tricking himself into believing that he's not already agreed to your offer, like he always does. "Eloise missed you, and I... Well, she should meet the Genovians. It wouldn't do for her to hesitate about her future simply because she has no acquaintances here."

Deflective submission is as good as you'll get with him, and you know it, so you take it with both hands. "Precisely what I was thinking," you relent, reaching out invitingly. "So come, you shouldn't leave her alone in a foreign country."

"Why, Genovia is perfectly harmless," he says, staring at your ungloved hand for two full seconds before he takes it and gently places it in the crook of his elbow. "For her, at least."

Your eyes linger on his face, trying to see any hint that could give away how he feels about being near you. You wish he weren't wearing fake armour, you could try and feel his pulse if that weren't the case. "You mean my people have been mistreating you? I know they think the British are... easy to tease."

"Why do they call us Kettle-heads?" He looks back at you, frowning a bit.

"Tea," you explain vaguely. 

"Oh." He says, though he still doesn't understand it. He supposes, however, that it doesn't have to make sense to annoy the British, and surely more than one has fallen into the trap, or it wouldn't be so commonly used.

"It's all in good fun," you continue, guiding him to the stone steps. "God knows we could be calling you worse things."

He laughs. "True enough."

You linger at the bottom of the steps to the castle. Once inside, you don't know what form your dynamic will take. It already feels different from London, and neither of you comprehends what your intentions are this time, knowing what you know, feeling how you feel.

"I'm happy to see you again. Did I say that already?" You tell him.

"You hadn't," he admits, feeling the urge to say more yet unable to utter it. "And I'm happy to be here."

You look at each other, not knowing what else to say when there is so much you want to speak on. In the end, you return to the ballroom in silence.

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I'm running out of GIFs someone help me -Danny Words: 2,360 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

L: Awake, but at What Cost?

"All of this is my fault," Lester says once they're all gathered by the cistern. "Caligula's goal has always been the same: to make himself a god. He saw his ancestors immortalized after their deaths: Julius, Augustus, even disgusting old Tiberius. But Caligula didn't want to wait for death. He was the first Roman emperor who wanted to be a living god."

"Caligula kind of is a minor god now, right?" Piper says. "You said he and the two other emperors have been around for thousands of years. So he got what he wanted." 

"Partly. But being a minor anything isn't enough for Caligula. He always dreamed of replacing one of the Olympians. He toyed with the idea of becoming the new Jupiter or Mars. In the end, he set his sights on being... the new me."

Hedge scoffs. "So, what? Caligula kills you, puts on a Hi, I'm Apollo! name tag, and walks into Olympus hoping nobody notices?"

"It would be worse than killing me. He would consume my essence and Ara's, along with the essence of Helios, to make himself the new sun god."

Prickle Pear leans forward anxiously. "The other Olympians would just allow this?"

"Lester defied Zeus, played him," Ara responds. "He's a strict ruler and wants Apollo to be sorry for what he did. I don't think it matters who ascends as long as it's by the book. Caligula would be doing something greedy, yes, but it's not against the rules."

Lester lowers his gaze, he hates that he can't rebuke Ara's statement. His father has always been obsessed with the rules. "The Olympians allowed Zeus to strip me of my powers and toss me to earth. They've done half of Caligula's job for him. They won't interfere. As usual, they'll expect heroes to set things right. If Caligula does become the new sun god, I will be gone. Permanently gone. That's what Medea has been preparing for with the Burning Maze. It's a giant cooking pot for sun-god soup."

"So the fires of Helios—that's what's killing our land?" Joshua asks.

"Well, humans aren't helping. But on top of the usual pollution and climate change, yes, the Burning Maze was the tipping point. Everything that's left of the Titan Helios is now coursing through this section of the Labyrinth under Southern California, slowly turning the top side into a fiery wasteland."

"If Medea succeeds, will all the power go into Caligula? Will the maze stop burning and killing us?" Agave asks.

"Guys, that won't help," Grover is quick to respond. "Caligula's responsible for what's happening to us right now. He doesn't care about nature spirits. You really want to give him the full power of a sun god?"

"So what do we do? I don't want my son growing up in a burning wasteland." Mellie frowns.

"We kill Caligula."

"Meg, that may not be possible. You remember Commodus. He was the weakest of the three emperors, and the best we could do was force him out of Indianapolis. Caligula will be much more powerful, more deeply entrenched."

"Don't care. He hurt my dad. He did... all this."

"I cannot fight Helios, but I sure can fight Caligula," Ara says. "I'm immortal and I have blessings. What does he have? If I can distract him for long enough, you guys can get his boots, get the oracle, and leave him blind."

"What if Medea gets you while you're fighting him? He won't play fair," Lester frowns. "Then we're left vulnerable."

"I'm not all you have—"

"I need you with us," Lester's voice rises with exasperation. "It's not me everyone sees and feels instantly safer, it's you! What do you think it'll do to everyone's morals if you get yourself killed?"

Ara knows how it will look; her own heroes died for her to get here and it didn't make her feel stronger, it only made her more scared, and in that fear, she grew up broken. But what other choice does she have? She was born to die. And at least, personally, she's made her peace with it.

Piper changes the subject and turns to Meg. "I wonder what your dad's big project was with those glowing seeds. What did Medea call you... a descendant of Plemnaeus?"

The nature spirits around them gasp. "Plemnaeus? The Plemnaeus? Even in Argentina, we know of him!"

Lester looks flabbergasted. "You do?"

Prickly Pear laughs. "Oh, come on, Apollo! You're a god. Surely you know of the great hero Plemnaeus!"

"Um... What monster did he slay?"

"Apollo," Reba continues disapprovingly. "A healer god should know better."

"Er, of course. But, um, who exactly—?"

"Typical. The killers are remembered as heroes. The growers are forgotten. Except by us nature spirits." Prickly Pear chastises.

"Plemnaeus was a Greek king," Agave clarifies. "A noble man, but his children were born under a curse. If any of them cried even once during their infancy, they would die instantly."

"What happened?"

"He appealed to Demeter. The goddess herself raised his next son, Orthopolis, so that he would live. In gratitude, Plemnaeus built a temple to Demeter. Ever since, his offspring have dedicated themselves to Demeter's work. They have always been great agriculturalists and botanists." Agave smiles at Meg. "I understand now why your father was able to build Aeithales. His work must have been special indeed. Not only did he come from a long line of Demeter's heroes, he attracted the personal attention of the goddess, your mother. We are honoured that you've come home."

Coach brushes off the moment. "That's great. Kid, your dad must have been something. But, unless he was growing some kind of secret weapon, I don't know how it'll help us. We've still got an emperor to kill and a maze to destroy."

"Gleeson..."

"Hey, am I wrong?"

Grover sighs. "What do we do, then?"

"We stick to the plan," Lester says. "We find the Sibyl of Erythraea. She's more than just bait. She's the key to everything. I'm sure of it."

Piper pulls baby Chuck closer to her. "Apollo, we tried navigating the maze. You saw what happened."

"Jason Grace made it through. He found the Oracle."

"Maybe. But, even if you believe Medea, Jason only found the Oracle because Medea wanted him to."

"Yes, but she told him something, and we need to know what," Ara says. "Maybe he didn't understand what it meant, and it scared him, but we have to know."

"Besides, Medea mentioned there was another way to navigate the maze," Lester adds. "The emperor's shoes. Apparently, they let Caligula walk through safely. We need those shoes. That's what the prophecy meant: walk the path in thine own enemy's boots."

"So you're saying Ara's plan is also a go," Meg says.

"What? No."

"We need to find Caligula's place and steal his shoes. Ara says she's ready to face him. Why can't we just kill him?"

"See, now that's a plan. I like this girl." Hedge says happily. "Reminds me of Ara when she was younger."

"Friends," Lester says gravely. "Caligula's been alive for thousands of years. He's a minor god. We don't know how to kill him so he stays dead. We also don't know how to destroy the maze, and we certainly don't want to make things worse by unleashing all that godly heat into the upper world. Our priority has to be the Sibyl."

"Because it's your priority?" Pear demands.

"Either way," Lester blushes a bit, not wanting to admit that it had been his first idea when Ara suggested he should take her life force, "to learn the emperor's location, we need to consult Jason Grace. Piper, will you take us to Jason?"

After a moment of pondering, Piper speaks. "Jason's living at a boarding school in Pasadena. If Ara asks, there is a big chance he'll tell you what happened, though I don't know if it'll help. But we can try."

The next morning, Ara approaches Piper with a fresh set of clothes from Macro's army supply store and her octopus hanging from one shoulder. "You don't have to come, you know? Just tell me where I can find Jason, and I'll get him. I'll explain everything."

"It's fine," Piper smiles a bit. "Besides, I want to hear what the oracle said. Medea is right, when Jason came out, he had this look in his eyes... like the one you had when you faced Eros."

"Yikes," Ara feels her stomach churn with anxiety. "So it's bad-bad..."

"What about you and Lester?" Piper crosses her arms. "Every time a quest reaches a crisis, you get a little crazy. So what's the suicidal plot you're considering now?"

The girl rolls her eyes. "Can we not..."

"Mhm. That's what I thought," her friend sighs. "Ara, there's probably another way. There is always another way, haven't we proved it by now?"

"Nothing's set in stone, so if it makes you feel better, the suicidal plan isn't my first option anyway."

Piper snorts. "That's something, I suppose... come on, time to torment Jason."

Ara finds Lester and Meg next to what seems to be a recently tended patch of soil. She stops a few feet away when she hears the young girl's question. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"If my family is so important to her, thousands of years of blessings, or whatever, why hasn't she ever...?" She gestures weakly.

"I don't know, Meg," Lester sighs. "But this? This is the sort of thing your mother would be proud of. Growing plants in an impossible place. Stubbornly insisting on creating life. It's ridiculously optimistic. Demeter would approve."

"And what would your father approve, Lester?" Ara speaks up, getting angry at the display of hopelessness from Meg. "Because it's been a long time since he cared about any sort of life other than the divine. You know, Jason tried to plead your case—"

"Ara," Lester warns her. 

"No, really, he tried to defend you even after you caused all that trouble; he tried to make Zeus drop the punishment, told your father that you weren't to blame, that it was a collective failure. He didn't like it. No, he likes his little heroes as long as they're agreeable, but the moment they aren't, suddenly you're not worthy to be aided."

Lester looks at her, and there's something in his gaze that tells her he thinks she's walking on thin ice. Good. Maybe if Lester gets spooked, then Zeus will actually do something other than sit on his ass. "Come on," Ara says, leaving the conversation without easing his worries.

They take the borrowed car once more, and Ara drives despite being the youngest of the trio of teens. She follows Piper's directions, none of them excited to make conversation or sing along to the radio songs.

"I've never liked this city," Lester mutters. "It makes me think of game shows, tawdry parades and drunk washed-up starlets with spray-on tans."

Ara and Piper share a look. The latter speaks. "FYI, Jason's mom was from here. She died here, in a car accident."

"I'm sorry. What did she do?"

"She was a drunk washed-up starlet with a spray-on tan."

"Ah." Lester blushes. "So why would Jason want to go to school here?"

Piper sighs. "After we broke up, he transferred to an all-boys boarding school up in the hills. You'll see. I guess he wanted something different, something quiet and out-of-the-way. No drama."

"He'll be happy to see us, then," Meg mumbles without excitement.

"He's Roman," Ara says, "boarding schools have order and schedules. He can have discipline while lowering the stress levels... And yes, maybe being here gives him some kind of feeling that he's close to roots that have nothing to do with the demigod in him, which, you know, I guess feels good sometimes."

Piper smiles ironically. "You hate it. Jason and you really are opposites..."

Ara flashes a glare at the girl in warning. "Don't push me."

Piper blushes a bit. "I'm only saying—"

Ara speaks harshly. "I don't know what you expect me to say, honestly. That I knew you were messing up and decided not to tell you? Because none of that is true, Piper. I don't read minds, and now more than ever, I'm completely alienated to what's normal in a human. I understand Jason, but I understand Percy, too. And Lily. And Nico. You know how I did that? I accepted that they were not who I wanted them to be, and I was never going to be what they wanted either. Maybe that's your problem."

Piper's hands clench over her lap tightly enough to hurt her palms, but she only responds with one word. "Maybe."

The girl guides them to Jason's class, and it is not lost on Lester or Ara that she's got his schedule memorized. Ara doesn't think much of it, because it's not like breaking up makes you stop thinking about people. Heck, not even death stopped Ara from remembering what Mike's favorite drink was, and what his training schedule used to be at camp.

Piper peers into the classroom and announces some excuse Ara can't hear, still sulking guiltily after the way she lashed out. A moment later, Piper steps away, and Jason walks out. Ara feels almost at home looking at him and Piper, if it weren't for the uniform he's currently wearing. 

Jason smiles awkwardly at Piper before his eyes land on Ara, and then his smile turns real. He hands over his books to Piper and crushes Ara in an uncharacteristic bear hug. "You're here."

Ara gives him a sympathetic smile, he's one of the few demigods she still has to look up to make eye contact. "Missed you too, Ken." She gives his forearm an affectionate squeeze. "We have to talk."

Jason glances at the people behind her. "Hey."

Ara takes the books Piper is holding and glances briefly at her friend, noticing an expression that's a mix of amusement and disbelief, then decides to move on as quickly as possible and hands the books back to Jason. "So, this is—"

"Meg McCaffrey and Apollo," Jason nods. "I've been waiting for you guys." Ara stares at him in surprise. She doesn't know why, but something about the way he's looking at the pair makes her stomach drop. She can feel something bad is looming over her friend.

Meg steps closer to Ara in hesitation. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's go back to my dorm room. We're not safe out here."

He starts walking, Lester and Meg following along. Ara and Piper linger. "See what I mean?" Piper whispers after seeing Ara's expression.

"I have to help this boy," she answers weakly.

Next Chapter –>

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