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peepholebysoad · 1 month ago

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Definitely Somethin' New...

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Daryl Dixon x Black OC (Eniola Black)

~~ I'm not gonna use the last name. ~~

This story is a 9 Parter or something like that but basically a love story overtime vibe.

Warnings: Flirting? but not from Eniola, cursing, Merle being a weirdo, Dale bein a bestie, VERY LITTLE smut it's just Lori and Shane. Lil worry yk

(This is right before Rick shows up Season 1 Episodes: 2-3)

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"Oh yes Shane I can't get enough of you."

"I know baby I know"

Eniola was TIRED.

Lori and Shane had been going at it in that fuck ass tent like they were the only people left on Earth. Third night in a row. They probably thought they were being quiet — but they were loud as hell. Eniola had reached her limit.

She unzipped her tent, ready to raise hell — only to be met by Dale, standing there like he’d been expecting her.

In a low whisper, he said, “You don’t have to do that, you know. We’ll be fine. They’re just... in love. Or lust. Who knows.”

“Nah, Dale. It’s really getting bad. I’m shocked those shitty zombies haven’t wandered over yet. Then again, with the way she’s moanin’? They probably think she’s one of them.”

She finally took a breath, the exhaustion catching up to her. It wasn’t personal — she didn’t hate them. She just needed some damn sleep.

When she looked up, Dale met her eyes with that familiar knowing look. He got it. He always did.

“Eniola, w—” Dale started, but was cut off by a sudden—

CRUNNNCH!

He grabbed that shotgun so fast, it was almost a blur. Eniola snatched her knife from inside her tent, scrambling to catch up with Dale as they moved toward the sound — a distant shuffle, it has to be a walker. Dale held out an arm, halting her with a silent signal to stay back. They tiptoed forward, every step tense, edging toward the source of the noise.

crunch

Eniola jumped, heart slamming against her chest — the sound was right behind her. She spun around, knife raised, ready to launch herself at the walker. But mid-lunge, a hand caught her wrist. Definitely not a damn walker.

"The hell are you doing little girl" Ugh this dirtball's voice pissed Eniola off every time.

"First off Merle, I'm not little secondly, why are y'all creeping around here? We were this close to killing the both of you."

"No, you weren't. A scratch? Maybe, but kill? Nah." Merle's smartass little brother Daryl said laughing at her.

Eniola was still tired as hell, too drained to argue. She yanked her wrist free, didn’t even look back, and walked off without a word. Her limbs felt like concrete. As she neared her tent, a faint voice sounded out, getting quieter with every step.

“That ass on her, mm! I’d do so much to her you just don’t even know, little brother.”

Yeah, that had to be Merle. His gritty voice was like a fork screeching across a plate — irritating and unnecessary. Bitch ass.

Eniola couldn’t make out Daryl’s response — and honestly, she didn’t care. She knew she looked good. Apocalypse or not, her body was still fire, and she didn’t need anyone’s validation.

Back in her tent, zipped up and secure, the world finally went quiet.

Not even Lori and Shane were making noise anymore. Maybe trouble in paradise, she thought with a smirk.

Eniola drifted off, wrapped in silence for once — nothing but peace, and well-earned rest.

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*HONK* *HONK* *HONK* *HONK* *HOOOONK*

“The fuck?” Eniola croaked, her raspy morning voice full of irritation. Something was out there — loud as hell and honking like a maniac.

She sat up, already knowing that sound meant nothing good. Crawling out of her tent, afro wild and lopsided, she scanned the campsite — empty. Everyone was down by the road, eyes locked on something.

The honking was still blaring. Way too loud. The kind of loud that would bring walkers running.

Dragging her feet, Eniola joined the group just in time to see what had them frozen and confused. A red, sporty-looking car came zooming down the street, horn blaring nonstop. Behind it, a truck gave chase, engine growling like it wanted blood. The red car didn’t slow down — it was heading straight toward them, honking like they weren't mid-apocalypse.

Shane looked pissed — understandably so. That car had been honking loud as hell. Like, really loud.

Eniola didn’t catch the whole conversation going on with the group, but once they finally got the car to shut up, she noticed what looked like a little family reunion. Lori, Carl, and some random guy. He was kind of cute, she guessed, but this wasn't the time to be making new friends.

Right now, all she wanted was a place that felt safe. Closed off. Quiet. Somewhere she could breathe without checking over her shoulder every five seconds.

Without saying much, Eniola made her way back to her tent. She grabbed the usual — her knife, a can of beans, and a bottle of pond water to deal with the heat. Survival mode on lock, as always.

"I'm going for a walk," she muttered, just loud enough for them to hear.

She didn’t owe them more than that. Truth be told, the only people she actually liked were Dale, Jacqui, and Carol. The rest didn't even want her there to begin with. Stingy with everything they had.

"Like hell you are-" Shane got cut off by Lori.

"Let her do her thing Shane." Lori's hand landing on Shane chest to stop him.

The new guy looked at the gesture with disappointment.

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The walk was calming — almost eerily so. For a moment, it reminded her of the quiet hikes she used to take with her parents. Back when the world made sense.

FLASHBACK INCOMING

Eniola had lost them the day everything fell apart. It was a Sunday — the kind she never missed. Every week, no matter what, she’d show up at their house for dinner. But that Sunday… that Sunday was different.

The zombies broke in mid-bite.

She could still hear her dad’s voice, yelling for her to run. She remembered the sound of forks crashing against their plates, her mom screaming, the sight of her father getting bit — right on the arm. Her eyes burned with tears, blurring everything as she stumbled backward.

She ran through the back door.

And she never stopped running.

That is, until she ran into Dale.

He found her wandering, half-starved, eyes low, mind with shock and so much rage. He didn’t ask questions. Just gave her food, a blanket, and space. Over time, he taught her how to shoot, how to stay calm, how to survive without losing herself. He never tried to change her — just made room for who she already was.

In a world gone to hell, Dale gave her something she hadn’t felt since her parents died: a sense of home.

At the campsite, she met Jacqui and Carol — both survivors in their own right, with their own baggage and strength. Over time, they became her people. Her quiet constants. Her best friends.

She might not trust easily, but with them? She didn’t have to try so hard.

FLASHBACK OVER

“What you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

She didn’t even flinch this time. After being snuck up on by him one too many times, she already knew that voice.

“Nothing much, Daryl,” she said softly. Her voice carried a trace of reminiscence — low, sad, like a memory she hadn’t asked to revisit.

Out of the corner of her eye, something dropped. A rope. No — a rope with SOMETHINGS on it. It hit the ground with a wet SPLAT.

Her body stiffened.

Slowly, she turned her head, dread crawling up her spine. Whatever it was... she knew it'd be disgusting.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Eniola couldn't contain it; SHE SAW A ROPE WITH FUCKING DEAD SQUIRRELS ON IT.

"SHHHH! Why are you so scared anyway, you see zombies literally drooling everywhere" he shooshed her so they wouldn't attract zombies toward them.

"Daryl this is..." she exhaled gaining composure.

"This is your last straw, Daryl. Get that fucking rope away from me!" Eniola changed her tone to a whisper yell. She already didn't like how rude he was to her bestie Dale and basically the entire group, now he's throwing roped squirrels BE FOR REAL.

“Anyway, a certain someone back there told me your night wasn’t too great — something about Shane and Lori getting a little too loud and… dirty.”

“Right... right… and why does that concern you, squirrel boy?” Eniola said, then immediately cringed inside at how cheesy that sounded.

Daryl just grinned. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. Well, I was thinkin’ — why don’t we have a little competition with ‘em?”

His strong southern drawl made it sound like a serious challenge. And Eniola? She loved to compete.

“Go ooonnnn,” she said, her mind blank but buzzing with excitement. All she caught was competition in big, flashing letters.

“So hows ‘bout I take you to my tent, and we show ‘em how loud we can really get?”

He smirked like he ate that up.

Her face scrunched up in disgust, before he could say anything else she put her hand up stopping him from responding, "You have no more straws Daryl, like 10 minutes ago you shushed me for yelling due to you know WALKERS..." she added emphasis.

"...now you wanna get freaky with me to compete with Lori and Shane" Eniola's eyebrows raised.

For some reason he still looked hopeful. She took the deepest breath, "No Daryl." The moment she just had alone reminiscing about her parents were just tainted by this genuinely dirty looking man.

*crunch*

Daryl’s face shifted from disappointment to sharp curiosity the moment he heard the noise — the very animal he’d been hunting. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay perfectly still.

In one smooth motion, he grabbed a handful of arrows, not wasting a second. He aimed carefully and released three precise shots. The deer stumbled but somehow managed to bolt a short distance before crashing down with a heavy thud.

“That’s dinner,” he said quietly, already moving toward where the animal had fallen.

"AHHHHH!!"

Both of them snapped their heads toward the scream — sharp, urgent. It was the boy. Carl.

"DAD!!"

Yeah, that was definitely Carl. Eniola took off running, heart pounding. Daryl grabbed his crossbow and the rope of squirrels before sprinting after her, the tension thick in the air as they chased the sound.

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When they both arrived at the scene, Eniola was caught off guard by the sight of Shane’s big shotgun aimed directly at her. Shane's expression shifted the moment he recognized her, relief softening his features as he noticed Daryl lagging just behind. With a long breath, he lowered the weapon and turned away without a word.

Eniola’s gaze shifted to a grisly sight—a headless, dead walker—and then to a half-eaten deer lying nearby. Before she could fully process it, Daryl finally caught up. He placed a firm hand on her waist, guiding her gently behind him, shielding her without hesitation.

She did feel a flicker of safety in that moment—Daryl stepping up like that. Not that she’d ever admit it to him.

"Son of a bitch."

"THASS MY DEER!" Daryl was genuinely mad because he lost dinner to that zombie.

Eniola suddenly noticed her hands resting on the back of Daryl’s shoulders. When had that happened?

It was like her mind snapped back into place. She blinked, cleared her throat, and quickly pulled her hands away, stepping back just enough to put a breath of space between them. Too close. Too comfortable. Not happening AT ALL.

"Look at it all gnawed on by this..." She saw him cock his leg back ready to kick the headless zombie.

"Filthy. Disease-Bearing. Motherless. Poxy. Bastard!"

After each diss he laid a kick to the side of the headless body.

"Calm down son. That's not helping." Dale tried to calm down Daryl a little.

Daryl stormed up to Dale, invading his space with a glare. “What do you know about it, old man?”

Eniola’s frustration bubbled up, her fists clenching tighter by the second, ready to step in.

But Dale caught her eye and gave a slight nod, raising a hand — a silent warning to stay out of it.

“Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to On Golden Pond,” Daryl sneered, voice dripping with anger.

And that right there was exactly why Eniola wasn't about to just give him some coo. Rude as fuck.

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Eniola made it back to her tent before she had to endure any more of Daryl’s deer rant. She shut her eyes for just a moment. She wasn’t even tired.

But she fell asleep like a baby.

When she woke, the light creeping through the tent told her it was morning again. It was quieter than usual.

Stepping out of her tent, she immediately noticed something off—T-Dog, Glenn, Daryl... and that new guy, Rick—they were all gone.

“Hey, honey. How’d you sleep?” Dale approached her with a plate of food—leftovers from the night before.

“I slept pretty good,” Eniola said, eyeing the plate. “That for me?”

She really hoped it was. Her stomach was practically screaming at her.

“Yes, it is. Here you go.” He handed it over—some meat and beans.

“Mwah, thank you, Dale.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in return.

Dale chuckled, clearly pleased.

“Dale,” she said, tone shifting slightly, “can I ask you something? And I really don’t want to hear any questions about my question.”

Dale looked confused but didn’t argue. He just nodded, waiting.

“Where did Daryl and the others go?” Eniola asked, surprising herself with how little she cared about anyone else. It was like she needed to know exactly where he was.

Dale noticed the worry in her eyes and took a deep breath, explaining everything from start to finish.

“Can I ask you one thing?” Eniola nodded.

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?”

She shrugged, voice low and raw. “I don’t know, Dale. Maybe it’s because if I had even one word that my parents were still alive, I’d be chasing after them. But going back into the city? That’s just too damn dangerous.”

Dale pulled her into a comforting hug, holding her close.

“You’ll be okay, Eniola. And so will Daryl,” he whispered into her shoulder.

When they finally pulled apart, Dale chuckled.

“What’s funny?” she asked, confused.

“Oh, nothing. Just that you like Daryl,” he teased.

Eniola shoved him playfully. “Eww, no I don’t!” Her face scrunched up in mock disgust.

Dale grinned and started chanting, “Eniola likes Daryl! Eniola likes Daryl!”

“You’re not funny,” she shot back, turning away toward her tent as his laughter faded behind her.

Alone in her tent, she let the thought linger longer than she wanted to admit. Maybe… just maybe, she did care for squirrel boy.

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I DID ITTTT

I hope you all enjoyed this I know it's long as fuck but hear me out......

ITS A LONG SERIES IN GENERAL.

anyway, love Daryl DEOWWWNNNNN and uhhh get ready for this slow burn tingggggg

Part 2 will be out soon!!

31 notes · View notes

cheriecelestial · 4 months ago

Note

Need part 3 of ur pjo x jjk story for my mental health plss

Ocean Eyes Pt.III

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ canon typical violence. blood. mild angst. injuries. not proofread!

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Percy Jackson x Gojo fem!OC

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ You ask, I deliver. Also I had so much fun writing this lol. Comment, Like and Reblog ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Comment to get added into the taglist.

Pt.I Pt.II Pt.IV

The sun hung high in the sky, blazing with such intensity it felt like Apollo himself was watching over his children. Beads of sweat glistened on the faces of the campers gathered for Capture the Flag, the sweltering heat doing little to dampen their spirits. Despite the oppressive warmth, the air buzzed with excitement as teams began to form—red versus blue. Alice had somehow managed to get both of us on the blue team, which she proudly declared was the “underdog but secretly awesome” side.

“Alright, listen up!” one of the older campers shouted, climbing onto a rock to address the group. “Rules are simple: get the other team’s flag and bring it back to your territory. No maiming, no killing, and no setting the forest on fire. Again.”

The terms seemed fair, and the activity sounded thrilling. Ever since I was young, Nii-san had encouraged me to fight, pushing me to be more ruthless until I almost started to enjoy it—almost. I’d always thought of it as more of a coping mechanism, a way to channel everything I was feeling into something productive. But no one could deny the rush of adrenaline, the high that came with testing your limits.

A few campers chuckled at the rules, but I was only half-listening. My focus was elsewhere, my eyes scanning the crowd for my target. Percy Jackson. It didn’t take long to spot him—about two hundred and twelve meters away. Dark hair, sea-green eyes, his hand gripping something tightly. A pen? He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, swallowing almost nervously. I felt a dull ache behind my eyes as I used my cursed energy technique to observe him. It was a useful tool for spying, but with my current level of expertise, focusing on distant objects for too long caused strain. I stopped soon enough so as to not exhaust myself further. If he was as good as Alice claimed, I wanted to see him in action—or better yet, test myself against him.

Alice nudged me with her elbow, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’ve got that look again,” she said, grinning. “Planning something dangerous?”

“What look?” I asked, tilting my head curiously. While watching Percy, I could also sense the Ares kids nearby. They were definitely planning something. I wanted to reactivate my Six Eyes to get a better read, but I’d just dismantled it, and it needed time to recharge.

“The one you had when you wrecked those Ares spawns,” she replied, her grin widening deviously. “Maybe,” I replied, adjusting the grip on my borrowed sword. Chiron had asked me not to use Kaizen since Kaizen could cause injuries to campers far worse than they were capable of healing. It wasn’t as balanced as I would’ve liked, but it would do. “So this Percy person, where would I find him?”

“Of course you’re already looking for him,” she said, rolling her eyes but still smiling. “He’s usually near the creek. Water’s his thing, remember? But fair warning—if you go after him, you’re on your own. I’m not stupid enough to pick a fight with Poseidon’s kid.”

“Noted,” I said, already mapping out a path to the creek in my head.

The horn sounded, signaling the start of the game, and the campers surged forward, splitting off into smaller groups. I broke away from the main pack, slipping into the shadows of the forest. I was on the same team as him which made it easier for me to find him without much obstruction. As much as I would've loved playing capture the flag, I had other more exciting things to focus on.

Navigation would've been easier with my six eyes but for once I decided to do it normally, so as to not lose my touch. It didn’t take long to find the creek. The sound of rushing water guided me, and soon I spotted a group of blue-team campers setting up a defensive position near the bank. And there he was, standing away from everyone else—Percy Jackson.

“Greetings, son of Poseidon,” I said, stepping out of the woods and dragging the heavy sword behind me. The weight of the weapon felt awkward in my hands—I wasn’t used to something so cumbersome. Percy looked exactly as I’d seen earlier: tall, with messy black hair and a confident stance. On the surface, nothing about him screamed “legendary demigod,” but my Six Eyes saw beyond the superficial. There was something more to him, something I couldn’t quite place yet.

He turned, his sea-green eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on me. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked, my tone so innocent it bordered on sarcastic.

“I don’t know how, but—” He paused, fidgeting with the pen in his hands. “I could feel something. Someone watching me.”

I froze. Sorcerers above a certain level could detect when the Six Eyes were focused on them, but even then, it only happened if the user allowed it. They were highly trained, experienced individuals. So how could he have sensed it? There had to be more to him than I’d initially thought.

“Very well, son of Poseidon,” I said, shrugging casually, though my tone carried an edge. “You caught me. But I wasn’t watching you without reason.” My words were deliberate, measured, each syllable sharp enough to cut through the tension in the air.

“What reason?” he asked, his sea-green eyes locking onto mine, steady and unflinching.

“I, Kanao Gojo, challenge you to a duel,” I declared, my voice ringing out with a confidence that left no room for misunderstanding.

“No.” His response was immediate, plain, and simple. No hesitation, no grand explanation, just a single word that hung in the air like a stone dropped into still water.

I blinked, caught off guard. “No?” I repeated, my voice rising slightly, a mix of shock and confusion coloring my tone. “What do you mean, ‘no’? When someone challenges you to a duel, you don’t just say no to it. That’s not how this works!”

Percy crossed his arms, his expression calm and unbothered, as if my challenge was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “Like I said, no. As far as I know, duels only happen when both parties are willing. And I don’t want to fight you.”

His casual dismissal stung more than I cared to admit. “Why? Are you afraid?” I scoffed, my pride bristling at his refusal.

He shook his head, his tone annoyingly patient. “No, I’m not afraid. I just have no reason to fight you.”

“But you have to!” I exclaimed, my voice cracking slightly with frustration and bordering desperation. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. In all the scenarios I’d imagined, this was never one of them. Did he think I wasn’t strong enough? Was I not worth his time? The thought burned like a brand.

Percy raised an eyebrow, his calm demeanor only fueling my irritation. “I don’t have to do anything. Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but picking fights for no reason isn’t really my thing. If you want to spar or train, sure, I’m down. But a duel? Nah. Not interested.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. This wasn’t just about proving myself anymore—it was about understanding why he was so quick to dismiss me. “You don’t think I’m strong enough, do you?” I accused, my voice low but sharp.

Percy sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. “It’s not about strength. I don’t fight people just because they ask me to. I’ve got enough monsters and gods trying to kill me without adding random duels to the list.”

His words hit me like a splash of cold water. There was no arrogance in his tone, no condescension—just honesty. And yet, it didn’t make me feel any better.

“So what, you only fight when it’s life or death?” I pressed, taking a step closer. “You don’t ever test yourself against someone just to see how far you can go?”

He met my gaze, his expression softening just a bit. “I’ve been tested plenty, trust me. And I’ve got the scars to prove it. But fighting for the sake of fighting? That’s not who I am. If you want to prove something to yourself, fine. But don’t drag me into it unless you’ve got a good reason.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat. His logic was infuriatingly sound, and it left me with no ground to stand on. Still, I couldn’t let it go. “You’re really just going to walk away?” I asked, my voice tight with frustration.

“Yep,” he said, already turning to leave. But then he paused, glancing back over his shoulder with a small, almost teasing smile. “But hey, if you ever want to team up for Capture the Flag or something, let me know. You seem like you’d be fun to have on my side.”

I wanted to say something further, to push him into acknowledging the challenge I’d thrown his way, but the words caught in my throat as a sudden, prickling sensation crawled up my spine. My instincts screamed at me, and I froze, my senses sharpening as I focused on the woods behind us. There was movement—subtle, deliberate, and far too coordinated to be accidental. Multiple presences, closing in.

Without hesitation, I strode over to Percy, who was still walking away towards the woods, and grabbed his wrist.

“Look, lady, I—” he started, irritation flashing across his face as he tried to pull his arm free.

“Shut it,” I hissed, my voice low and urgent. My grip tightened, and I yanked him closer, my eyes darting toward the tree line. “There are children of Ares in the woods behind us, preparing for an ambush. And they don’t intend to merely harm.”

Percy froze, his expression shifting instantly. The casual, carefree demeanor he’d worn moments ago vanished, replaced by something darker, sharper. His sea-green eyes flicked toward the woods, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something in his gaze—anger, maybe, or resignation.

“Not your first time, I’m guessing,” I said, my tone dry but not unkind.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I’m not sure if they intend to kill, though.”

“They do,” I replied without hesitation. “My senses never lie.”

Percy’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, we just stood there, the weight of the situation settling between us. I could see the gears turning in his head, the way his body tensed, ready to spring into action. He uncapped the pen in his hand, and a stunning sword sprang to life in a flash of bronze, its celestial glow casting a faint light on his face.

A son of Ares emerged from the woods, his presence commanding and his demeanor deceptively calm. He had the kind of look in his eyes that made you think of a volcano simmering beneath the surface—quiet for now, but capable of erupting at any moment. His gaze flicked between Percy and me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dry leaves underfoot.

“Look, Jackson,” he said, his voice low and dripping with mockery. “Our beef isn’t with you. It’s with that bitch right there.” He jerked his chin toward me, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve got a chance to walk away. Take it while you still can.”

My grip tightened around the borrowed sword, the weight of it suddenly feeling more familiar, more comforting. I glanced at Percy, waiting for him to do exactly what the Ares kid had suggested—to leave. After all, this wasn’t his fight. I’d been the one to challenge him, to push him into this mess. It was only fair that I face the consequences alone.

But Percy didn’t move. Instead, he crossed his arms, his expression hardening as he stared down the son of Ares. “No,” he said, his tone as calm and unwavering as it had been when he’d rejected my duel proposal earlier.

The Ares kid blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“I said no,” Percy repeated. “Where’s Clarisse? I can’t imagine her agreeing to this.”

The mention of this “Clarisse” seemed to strike a nerve. The son of Ares scowled, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. “She doesn’t know, and why would she? She had the audacity to call us idiots for making a show at the pavilion.”

Percy raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “So, let me get this straight. You and your bullheaded lot are trying to ‘restore’ your honor by ambushing her one to fifteen? Real brave of you. You guys are pathetic.”

The insult hit its mark. The son of Ares bristled, his face flushing with anger. “Watch your mouth, Jackson,” he snarled, taking a step forward. “You’re not as untouchable as you think you are.”

Percy didn’t flinch. “And you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

The tension in the air was palpable, the kind that made your skin prickle and your instincts scream to either fight or flee. The other Ares kids shifted uneasily, their eyes darting between their leader and Percy, waiting for the signal to attack.

The son of Ares glared at Percy, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles twitching. “Well, you made your choice, Jackson. You’ll die with this slut too.”

“Stop”

The command came out sharper than I’d intended, and to my surprise, everyone froze. Even the son of Ares hesitated, his sword hovering mid-air as he stared at me, confusion flickering across his face.

“If this is about honor,” I said, my voice cold and steady, “then let’s do it the right way. Leave him out of this. Your fight is with me.”

The Ares kid blinked, his smirk returning as he lowered his sword slightly. “Oh, so the bitch has a spine after all. Fine. We’ll deal with you first, and then we’ll take care of Jackson.”

Percy stepped forward, his expression darkening. “What are you—”

I raised my palm, cutting him off without looking away from the son of Ares. “You’re not dying before I get you to duel me. I do not need you to fight my battles hero.”

Percy stared at me, his sea-green eyes narrowing as if he were trying to figure me out. For a moment, I thought he might argue, but then he let out a frustrated sigh and took a step back, though he didn’t lower his sword.

“But before we begin,” I said, my voice frigid, “allow me to prepare the battlefield.” I didn’t wait for a response, nor did I expect one. This wasn’t a negotiation—it was a statement. I crossed my index and middle fingers, holding them in front of me as I began to chant.

“Yami yori idete, yami yori kuroku, sono kegare o misogiharae.”

For a moment, nothing happened. The air seemed to hold its breath, the world pausing as if waiting for something to break. Then, slowly, the sky began to darken. It wasn’t the natural fading of daylight but something far more deliberate, as if the sun itself had been swallowed by an unseen force. A thick, inky substance began to drip from the sky, pooling and spreading until it formed a massive, half-sphere barrier around us. The darkness was almost liquid, shimmering faintly as it solidified into a wall that sealed us off from the outside world.

The brilliance of the sun was gone, replaced by an artificial night that felt heavy and oppressive. The only light came from the faint glow of the barrier itself, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the Ares kids.

“What the hell are you doing?” the son of Ares screamed, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. His earlier bravado was gone, replaced by wide-eyed panic as he stared at the barrier.

I lowered my hand, my expression calm as I turned to face him. “From where I belong, we call this a Tobari—a curtain. It has multiple uses, most of which involve trapping whatever is inside until a predetermined condition is fulfilled. It also prevents external interference. No one can enter, and no one can leave unless I allow it.”

The Ares kids shifted uneasily, their weapons lowering slightly as they glanced at each other, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.

“Those who wish to leave should do so now,” I continued, my tone firm but not unkind. “This is your last chance. If you stay, you will fight me.”

A couple of the Ares kids exchanged nervous glances, their earlier confidence wavering. One of them, a younger boy with a spear, took a hesitant step back, his face pale. But the others, including the son of Ares, stood their ground, their pride clearly outweighing their fear.

I turned to Percy, my expression softening slightly. “You should go.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by the suggestion. “Look, I dunno what kind of jojo-mojo you’ve got up those huge ass bell sleeves of yours, but my mama raised me better.”

I furrowed my brows, studying him for a moment. His stance was firm, his grip on Riptide steady, and his sea-green eyes were filled with a stubborn determination that I couldn’t quite understand. Why would he stay? Why would anyone choose to stand by someone they barely knew, especially when the odds were so clearly stacked against them?

People here are so odd, I thought to myself. Alice, who had accepted me so readily, and now Percy, who refused to leave despite the logical choice being to walk away. It was baffling, but also... strangely comforting.

I didn’t respond to Percy, my focus returning to the son of Ares and his group. They were circling me now, their weapons gleaming in the faint light of the barrier, their eyes filled with a mix of anger, fear, and anticipation. I adjusted my grip on the borrowed sword, feeling the weight of it in my hands. It wasn’t Kaizen, but it would do.

The son of Ares stepped forward, his sword raised, though his hand trembled slightly. “You think you can scare us with your little magic trick? We’re children of Ares. We don’t back down from a fight.”

I tilted my head, a small, dangerous smile playing on my lips. “Then let’s see if you can live up to that reputation.”

The fight began in earnest, the Ares kids charging at me with a ferocity that was almost admirable. Their movements were aggressive, their strikes heavy and wild, fueled by a mix of anger and fear. But they were predictable, their lack of strategy making them easy to read. I sidestepped the first swing of a sword, parried the thrust of a spear, and ducked under the arc of an axe. The borrowed sword in my hand felt strange, its weight and balance all wrong for my fighting style. After the first swing, I realized I wasn’t built for it—just as it wasn’t built for me.

So, without a second thought, I tossed the sword aside. It clattered to the ground, the sound sharp and final.

“Are you actually nuts?” Percy yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos as he struggled to fend off two Ares kids who had turned their attention to him. He deflected a blow with his sword, his movements fluid but strained under the pressure.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I reached into the sleeve and pulled out a talisman, holding it delicately between my middle and index fingers. Since I couldn’t use my Six Eyes to their full potential here, I’d been taught other methods to draw out and channel my cursed energy. Talismans were one of them—semi-grade two weapons consisting of runes written on parchment, designed to perform a wide array of functions. They could protect, heal, or harm, depending on the intent behind their creation. A certain amount of cursed energy was required to activate them, and they were often carried on one’s person for quick use. Some were even installed permanently in architecture, but these were portable, versatile, and perfect for situations like this.

“Tengen Talisman Arts,” I murmured, my voice low but carrying an edge of authority.

I tossed the talisman into the air, letting it hover for a moment in front of the charging Ares kids. The runes on the parchment began to glow, a faint, eerie light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The kids hesitated, their eyes widening as they realized something was about to happen—but it was too late.

The talisman exploded in a burst of light and energy, the shockwave knocking back the Ares kids. It wasn't too potent, but it did what it was designed to do. They hit the ground hard, their weapons clattering out of their hands as they groaned in pain. The air smelled faintly of ozone, and the ground where the talisman had detonated was scorched black.

“What the fuck?” Percy exclaimed, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. He’d managed to disarm the two kids he was fighting, but his attention was now fully on me. “Who the hell are you?”

I didn’t answer immediately, my focus still on the remaining Ares kids. They were regrouping, their earlier confidence shaken but not entirely broken. The son of Ares was back on his feet, his face twisted with rage as he barked orders at the others. They were hesitant now, their movements slower, more cautious, but they weren’t ready to give up just yet.

I reached into my sleeve again, pulling out another talisman. This one was different—larger, with intricate runes that glowed a soft, golden yellow. The light it emitted was warm, almost inviting, but there was a sharp edge to it, like the calm before a storm.

“You go low, I go high,” I said to Percy, my tone calm but firm.

He blinked, clearly confused. “What do you—”

Before he could finish, I tossed the talisman into the air. This time, it didn’t explode or release a shockwave. Instead, it hovered in place, suspended midair as if defying gravity. The runes pulsed with light, and a second talisman joined it, creating a small, glowing platform.

Percy stared at the talismans, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what he was seeing. “Okay, what the actual—”

But I didn't intend to wait for him to finish. Pushing off the ground with my feet, I sprinted toward the talismans, my movements quick and precise. The Ares kids hesitated, unsure of what I was doing, but the son of Ares recovered quickly, swinging his sword at me as I approached.

The blade came down in a wide arc, but I was faster. I leapt into the air, using the talismans as a foothold to propel myself higher. The runes flared as I landed on them, the surface firm and stable despite their ethereal appearance. From my elevated position, I had a clear view of the battlefield—and the Ares kids’ confusion was almost comical.

“What the—?!” one of them shouted, his voice cracking as he stared up at me.

It was clear they weren’t used to defending against attacks from above. Their training, their instincts, were all geared toward ground-level combat. I intended to use that to my advantage.

Percy, to his credit, didn’t waste any time. He darted forward, Riptide flashing as he engaged the Ares kids on the ground. His movements were fluid and precise, his sword a blur as he disarmed one attacker after another.

Meanwhile, I focused on the talismans, channeling a small amount of cursed energy to keep them active. With a flick of my wrist, I sent one of them flying toward a group of Ares kids who were trying to flank Percy. The talisman exploded in a burst of golden light, the force of the blast knocking them off their feet.

“Hey, watch it!” Percy called out. “I’m trying to fight down here, you know!”

“Then keep up,” I shot back, a small smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

I leapt from one talisman to the next, using them as stepping stones to stay above the fray. The Ares kids were scrambling now, their earlier bravado completely shattered. They tried to swing their weapons at me, but their strikes were clumsy and poorly timed, their frustration only making them more predictable.

The son of Ares, however, wasn’t ready to give up. Even as his comrades lay scattered and defeated around him, his pride refused to let him back down. With a snarl of rage, he grabbed a spear from one of his fallen allies and hurled it with all his strength. But his target wasn’t me—it was Percy.

My eyes widened as I realized what was happening. There was no time to shout a warning, no time to think. Instinct took over. I redirected the talisman I’d been holding, activating it with a surge of cursed energy, and leapt onto it as it floated in the air. The talisman shot forward like a platform, carrying me toward Percy in the blink of an eye.

The second I was close enough, I grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him upward, lifting him into the air just as the spear whistled past, missing him by inches.

“And you can fly too?!” Percy exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief as he stared at me with eyes as wide as saucers.

I glanced down and realized there was no visible platform beneath us—just the faint shimmer of cursed energy holding us aloft. “More like I can’t fall,” I muttered under my breath, focusing on maintaining my cursed energy as I slowly descended to the ground. Percy was still floating awkwardly, my hand gripping the back of his collar like a kitten being carried by its scruff.

By the time we landed, only six of the original fifteen Ares kids were still standing, their faces a mix of fear and determination. T

“Okay, Kanao,” I muttered to myself, taking a deep breath. “You’ve practiced this. You can do this.”

Both sides lunged at me at once, their weapons and fists aimed at my body. But the blows never landed. Their swords, spears, and punches stopped, frozen in mid-air exactly three centimeters from me.

“What is this?” the son of Ares demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and fear. He pressed harder against the invisible barrier, but it was no use.

“Infinity,” I said, a small, mocking smile playing on my lips as I lowered my glasses slightly to meet his gaze. “It’s like Achilles and the tortoise. No matter how close you think you are, you’ll never reach me.”

While they were still struggling against the barrier, I took the opportunity to strike. My movements were swift and precise, each punch landing with enough force to knock the wind out of my attackers. One by one, they crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.

Once they were down, I set Percy back on the ground with a soft thud, though I kept him floating just slightly above the surface since my hand was still gripping his collar. He stared at me in wonder, his expression a mix of awe and confusion.

“What… just happened?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Consequences of stepping out of line,” I extended my hand toward the center of the remaining Ares kids and curled my fingers into a fist. The air around them seemed to warp, an invisible force pulling them together like magnets. They struggled against it, but it was no use. With a loud crash, they collided with each other, collapsing into a heap on the ground.

I finally released Percy, letting him stand on his own two feet as the talismans behind me dissipated into nothingness. The son of Ares, however, wasn’t done. He staggered to his feet, his face twisted with rage, and charged at me with a roar, his sword raised high.

I didn’t flinch. Instead, I reached into my sleeve and pulled out one last talisman—this one smaller, with runes that glowed a deep, ominous red.

“You should’ve walked away when you had the chance,” I said, my voice cold and steady.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the talisman in my hand, but it was too late. I activated it, the runes flaring to life as a wave of energy erupted from the parchment. The force of the blast sent him flying backward, his sword slipping from his grasp as he hit the ground hard.

The battlefield fell silent, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. I turned to Percy, who was still staring at me with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

“Okay,” Percy said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over the battlefield. He stepped closer, his sea-green eyes wide with a mix of awe and confusion. “You’ve got to explain this to me. What was that? And don’t say ‘a magic paper thingy,’ because one, I don’t know what they are, and two, I’m pretty sure that’s not a normal demigod thing.”

I glanced at him, my expression calm but guarded. “Later,” I said simply, not in the mood to dive into an explanation about talismans, cursed energy, or the intricacies of my abilities. There would be time for that—maybe.

As the barrier began to dissipate, the artificial night around us gave way to the warm glow of sunlight. The inky darkness receded like a tide, revealing the world beyond. But as the barrier dropped completely, the surrounding area came into view, and my heart sank.

Everyone was there.

Alice stood at the front, her hands clenched into fists, her face pale with worry. Behind her was Chiron, his expression a mix of concern and stern disapproval. Alice's friend Julia, the blonde girl who had been with Percy earlier, was there too, her arms crossed, and her eyes narrowed. The dark-haired girl stood beside her, her gaze sharp and calculating. The rest of the campers from both the red and blue teams had gathered as well, their faces a mix of shock, curiosity, and fear. They had all been watching.

For a moment, I felt exposed, like a specimen under a microscope. My chest tightened, and I fought the urge to retreat, to disappear into the shadows where I wouldn’t have to face their stares. But before I could move, Alice broke away from the crowd and ran toward me.

“Thank the gods,” she said, her voice trembling as she threw her arms around me in a tight hug. “You’re okay.”

The hug felt strange, unfamiliar. I had been hugged before, but only by family—Nii-san, mostly, and even those were rare. Alice’s embrace was different, warmer and more earnest. I could feel her shaking, and when I pulled back slightly, I saw tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

Why did she care so much? We had only met a day ago. It didn’t make sense to me. People didn’t just care about others like that, not without reason.

“How did you find me?” I asked awkwardly, patting her back in what I hoped was a comforting gesture.

Alice sniffled, pulling away slightly but keeping her hands on my shoulders. “Kaizen,” she said, her voice still shaky. “You left him in the room. He came to me and basically dragged me here. When I saw you fighting with the Ares kids, I tried to help—” Her voice broke, and she took a deep breath before continuing. “I tried to, but there was this invisible wall that wouldn’t let me through. So I called Chiron.”

I glanced over her shoulder, where Chiron stood watching us, his expression unreadable. The rest of the campers were murmuring among themselves, their voices a low hum of curiosity and speculation.

“You shouldn’t have worried,” I said quietly, though the words felt hollow. “I had it under control.”

Alice gave me a look, her tear-streaked face a mix of relief and exasperation. “Under control? You were outnumbered, and they were out for blood! Of course I was worried!”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Her concern was genuine, and it left me feeling off-balance, like I was standing on uneven ground.

Percy stepped forward, breaking the tension with his usual casual demeanor. “Yeah, about that ‘under control’ thing—what exactly was that barrier? And the exploding paper? And, you know, the matrix ass move?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s complicated.”

“We’ve got time,” The blonde-haired girl said, her tone sharp as she stepped forward. Her gray eyes were piercing, and I could tell she wasn’t going to let this go. “You just took on a group of Ares kids single-handedly and used abilities none of us have ever seen before. You don’t get to just say ‘it’s complicated’ and walk away.”

I met her gaze, my own expression hardening. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Maybe not,” Chiron interjected, his voice calm but firm. “But you are a camper and your actions have consequences. What happened here today could have escalated into something far more dangerous.”

I clenched my jaw, the weight of their stares pressing down on me like a physical force. They wanted answers—demanded them, even—but I wasn’t ready to give them. Not yet. The words caught in my throat, tangled with the unease of being exposed, of having my secrets laid bare for everyone to see. Just as the tension threatened to suffocate me, a soft, radiant light enveloped Alice and me, spilling down from above.

I looked up, my breath catching in my chest. There, hovering in the air, was a shimmering pink dove, its wings glowing with an otherworldly brilliance. It was ethereal, beautiful, and unmistakably divine.

“Mother,” I murmured, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. “And here I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

I had always known who she was. Nii-san had begun to suspect when I was younger, and as I grew older, those suspicions had solidified into certainty. My skin began to glow with a soft pink aura, and a faint red haze swirled around my feet, rising like mist until it enveloped me completely. I could feel it working, a gentle but insistent force mending my wounds, soothing my aches, and even altering the way my hair was styled. My clothes felt heavier, richer, as if they had been transformed into something far grander than what I had been wearing moments before.

When the haze finally dissipated, I looked down at myself and froze. I was wearing a stunning white kimono, its fabric so delicate it seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. Embroidered across it were intricate blue and silver dragonflies, their wings so finely detailed they looked as though they might take flight at any moment. My hair, which had been loose and messy from the fight, was now elegantly pinned up, adorned with hairpins that sparkled like stars. I plucked one out to examine it more closely, my fingers trembling slightly. It was the most exquisite piece of jewelry I had ever seen, delicate yet bold, with tiny gemstones that caught the light in a way that made them seem alive.

This wasn’t random. Every detail, every stitch, every carefully placed hairpin spoke of thoughtfulness, of care. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, preparing for it, knowing exactly what I would need to feel... seen.

“You’re a daughter of Aphrodite,” Percy breathed, his voice filled with awe and confusion. “But then how—”

He didn’t finish the sentence, his words trailing off as he struggled to reconcile what he had just witnessed with the image of the girl who had just taken on a group of Ares kids with talismans and what seemed like magic.

Alice, sensing the tension, stepped between me and the others. “Look, she just fought off a bunch of Ares kids. Can we at least give her a minute to breathe before we start interrogating her?”

Her words broke the spell that had fallen over the crowd. The campers began to murmur among themselves, their voices a mix of curiosity and disbelief. Chiron stepped forward, his expression thoughtful but still tinged with concern.

“Alice is right,” he said, his deep voice carrying across the clearing. “This is a moment of revelation, not interrogation. Let us give her the space she needs to process what has just happened. But this conversation isn’t over. Kanao report to the Big House this instant.”

As the crowd began to disperse, Alice turned to me, her eyes still filled with worry. “Are you really okay?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “I’m fine,” I said, though the words felt hollow even as they left my lips. Beneath the surface, a cold, creeping fear was beginning to take hold. I knew I didn’t have much time before I’d have to dismantle my technique, and I knew what would follow. I had pushed myself too far, overused my capabilities, and now the consequences were catching up to me.

An icy sensation coiled around my throat, its tendrils sinking deep into my chest, spreading a chill that made my breath hitch. The discomfort was dulled slightly by Aphrodite’s blessing—her divine energy still lingering in the air around me—but even her power couldn’t shield me from the full extent of what was coming.

“I should go,” I said, my voice strained and weaker than I had intended. It was a struggle to keep my tone steady, to mask the growing unease that was clawing its way up my spine.

Alice didn’t look convinced, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. But she didn’t push, perhaps sensing that I wasn’t in the mood—or the state—to argue. Instead, she looped her arm through mine, her grip firm but gentle, and began leading me away from the clearing. Percy followed close behind, his usual casual demeanor replaced by a quiet concern. Trailing after him were the dark-haired girl and the blonde girl, her sharp gray eyes watching me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Each step felt heavier than the last, my body growing weaker as we moved further from the battlefield. The journey to the Big House, which normally would have been a short walk, now felt like an endless trek. My legs trembled with every step, and my vision began to blur at the edges, the world around me tilting slightly as if I were standing on uneven ground.

By the time we reached the Big House, I was barely holding myself together. Chiron was waiting for us on the porch, his expression stern but calm. However, the moment his eyes landed on me, his demeanor shifted. His brow furrowed, and he stepped forward quickly, his hooves clicking against the wooden planks as he moved to steady me.

“Sensei, please,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “I-I don’t want them to see.”

Chiron’s hands were firm but gentle as he took me from Alice, his gaze softening as he looked down at me. “You can trust them, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost apologetic. “I had intended to introduce you to them properly, but I did not get the chance.”

I wanted to respond, to tell him that it wasn’t about trust but about pride, about the years of conditioning that had taught me to never show weakness. But before I could form the words, the world around me began to spin. My breath caught in my throat, and my knees buckled, sending me crashing to the ground. I barely managed to catch myself on my hands, my body trembling as a fit of coughing wracked my chest.

Alice and Percy were at my side in an instant, crouching down next to me, their faces a mix of horror and worry. “Y/N!” Alice exclaimed, her voice trembling.

“Leave, please,” I rasped, my voice barely audible. I didn’t want them to see me like this—weak, vulnerable, a far cry from the girl who had just taken on a group of Ares kids with nothing but talismans and sheer willpower.

But Alice shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “Kanao, look,” she said, her voice breaking as she pointed to my sleeve.

I followed her gaze, my stomach sinking as I saw the blood blossoming on the rich fabric of my kimono. The crimson stain spread quickly, stark against the pristine white, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.

Chiron’s eyes widened, his usual composure slipping for a moment as he realized the severity of my condition. “Annabeth, fetch ambrosia this instant!” he barked, his voice sharp with urgency.

I had been raised to never show weakness. The Gojo name was synonymous with strength, with power, with perfection. To reveal vulnerabilities like this was unthinkable—a death sentence in the jujutsu world. But as another wave of pain wracked my body, I knew I couldn’t maintain the facade any longer.

The world around me blurred, the voices of the others fading into a distant hum. I could feel myself slipping, the icy tendrils of my own cursed energy tightening their grip. This wasn’t just exhaustion—it was a reckoning, a consequence of pushing myself too far, too fast.

And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning. It would get worse from here.

The pain in my chest was unbearable now, a searing, relentless agony that made every breath feel like a battle. Each gasp for air was shallow and ragged, as if my lungs were filling with something thick and heavy. The metallic tang of blood coated my tongue, and I could feel it trickling from the corner of my mouth, warm and sticky against my skin. My vision swam, the world around me dissolving into a blur of colors and shapes, the edges darkening as if the shadows themselves were closing in. But the worst of it were my eyes, they hurt as if they had been stabbed with the same shards I seemed to have swallowed.

“Annabeth, hurry!” Percy’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and urgent. I could hear the sound of footsteps—quick, frantic—as Annabeth sprinted around the Big House.

Chiron knelt beside me, his hands moving to my wrist to check my pulse. His expression was grim, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something far more serious. “Her energy is unstable,” he murmured, more to himself than to the others. “She’s pushed herself beyond her limits.”

I wanted to tell him I was fine, that I could handle it, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, another fit of coughing seized me, violent and uncontrollable. This time, the blood wasn’t just on my sleeve. It spilled from my lips, staining the pristine fabric of my kimono and pooling on the ground beneath me. The sight of it sent a wave of nausea through me, but I was too weak to even turn away.

“Kanao!” Alice’s voice was frantic now, her hands trembling as she tried to wipe the blood from my face. “What’s happening to her?!”

“Her cursed energy is backfiring,” Chiron said, his tone heavy with concern. “She’s been using techniques far beyond her current capacity, and her body is paying the price.”

Percy crouched down beside me, his sea-green eyes wide with fear. He reached out, his hand hovering over mine as if unsure whether to touch me. “Is there anything we can do?”

“The ambrosia will help,” Chiron said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. “But it may not be enough. Her condition is... complicated. Her energy is unlike anything I’ve seen before. It’s as much a part of her as it is a force working against her.”

“Stay with us, Y/N,” Percy said, his voice soft but urgent. “You’re stronger than this. You can fight it.”

I wanted to believe him, to cling to his words like a lifeline, but the pain was too much. It felt like my body was being torn apart from the inside, every nerve on fire, every muscle screaming in agony.

Annabeth returned moments later, a small square of ambrosia in her hand. She knelt beside me, her gray eyes filled with worry as she pressed the square to my lips. “Eat this,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “It’ll help.”

I tried to obey, but my body refused to cooperate. My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding together as another wave of pain wracked my body. The ambrosia slipped from my lips, falling to the ground as I coughed again, more blood spilling from my mouth.

“She’s not strong enough to eat it,” Chiron said, his voice tight with frustration. He looked at me, his expression a mix of concern and helplessness. “We’ll have to find another way.”

“What about nectar?” Percy suggested, his voice rising with desperation. “Can we give her that instead?”

Chiron shook his head. “Nectar is too potent. In her current state, it could kill her. Her body is too fragile to handle it.”

The others fell silent, their fear and helplessness palpable. I could feel their eyes on me, their worry pressing down on me like a weight. But there was nothing they could do. This was my burden to bear, my consequence to face. I had pushed myself too far, and now I was paying the price.

Then it struck me—a flicker of clarity amidst the chaos. I couldn’t stop the pain, but maybe, just maybe, I could minimize the damage. My voice was weak, barely more than a rasp, but I managed to choke out the word: “P-paper.”

The dark-haired girl was the first to react. She scrambled to Chiron’s desk, her movements quick and precise, and returned moments later with a sheet of paper. She placed it in front of me, her gray eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and concern.

With trembling hands, I dipped my finger into the blood still dripping from my mouth and began to trace a rune onto the paper. My movements were shaky, the lines uneven, but I poured every ounce of focus I had left into it. When the rune was complete, I slammed my hand onto the paper, forcing my cursed energy to flow through it.

The rune glowed faintly, a pale imitation of the ones Shoko onee-san used to create for me with her technique. It wasn’t nearly as potent, but it was enough. A wave of relief washed over me, dulling the sharp edges of the pain and giving me a moment to breathe. I collapsed backward onto the floor, my chest heaving as I let out a shaky sigh.

For a moment, everything was quiet. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm. I turned my head slightly and saw the blonde girl—Annabeth—holding a small square of ambrosia. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—relief, maybe, i couldn't tell.

Once the blood stopped flowing, I reached for the ambrosia and popped it into my mouth. I had heard stories about what it tasted like—your happiest memory, they said. The texture was strange, almost like a mix of honey and bread, but the flavor... it was unmistakable.

It tasted like Nii-san’s Kikufuku mochi.

The memory hit me like a wave, vivid and warm. I could see him standing in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he kneaded the dough with that ridiculous grin on his face. He’d gotten the recipe after shamelessly flirting with the owner’s 70-year-old wife, and he’d been so proud of himself. “It’s all about charm, Y/N,” he’d said, winking at me as he handed me a piece.

I closed my eyes, a faint smile tugging at my lips as the memory washed over me. For a moment, the pain was gone, replaced by a warmth that spread through my chest.

When I opened my eyes again, I was met with a circle of worried faces looming over me. Chiron’s expression was grave, his eyes filled with the kind of sorrow that comes from seeing too much suffering. Alice’s eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks streaked with tears. Percy looked like he was on the verge of crying himself, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. And Annabeth—her face was a mask of concern, but there was something else there too, something I couldn’t quite place.

I sat up slowly, wiping the rest of the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand. My body still ached, but the worst of the pain had subsided, thanks to the rune and the ambrosia. The room felt heavy with tension, the air thick with unspoken questions and lingering fear.

“When your uncle said you had stamina problems, I didn’t think it’d be like this,” a voice drawled from behind the group.

I looked up and saw Dionysus standing there, his usual bored expression slightly less bored than usual. Behind him was the dark-haired girl, panting slightly, as if she’d just run a marathon. Her sharp eyes were fixed on me, her expression unreadable but intense.

I smiled weakly, shrugging as I met Dionysus’s gaze. “That’s what you get for being a forbidden child,” I said, my voice still hoarse but laced with a hint of my usual dry humor.

“But Aphrodite isn’t a part of the pact. That’s just for the Big Three.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. All eyes turned to me, curiosity and confusion etched on their faces. I could feel the questions bubbling up, the unspoken demand for answers.

“Who ever said anything about the Greek side?”

╰ ┈➤ Masterlist

╰ ┈➤ Tags: @hana-no-seiiki @cxcilla @imsoslay2386 @meilvn @ilovebattinson @mymelody58 @joekitsu

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d33pwithinmys0ul · 1 month ago

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thank u sm to @pineberrie for this sick comm of my OC Rita-U137B :)

Rita is a fem prime rick variant in my fanfic Welcome To Feeling, which is one of two timeline installments of the U137verse, a Rick x Fem reader mess. May post more about her someday or make a sideblog for all my OCs in this fic :)

#rick oc #fem rick sanchez #art #art comm #my oc #not my art #u137verse #i only have eyes for u137 #welcome to feeling u137b #rita u137b #rick and morty #rick sanchez oc #female rick sanchez #rnm art

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modernmanblues · 4 months ago

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chances

CH 7: THE LESS KNOWN THE BETTER

plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she’s presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I’m Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn’t know is how much trouble she’s about to get herself into with the group’s beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless

themes: ⚠️NSFW⚠️, passionate kissing, Pink Floyd (smut?), civil conflict between rival band members, consumption of illicit substances (quaaludes), Eric Stewart being a real wanker (for a minute), Leah’s friendly encounter with Eric’s ex-spouse, Hammersmith Odeon (1975 baby!)

a/n: I love Eric Michael Stewart with all my bloody heart, and that’s all there is to say about that.

“I fucking want you..I fucking want all of you..forever..if possible…”

August 22, 1975. London Hilton Hotel. Time is approximately 6:30 am.

The warmth radiating from the early morning sun caresses my cheek, I moan in mild agony as I bring myself to sit up on the bed, leaning back as I place my entire weight on my arm to hold myself up. The struggle to keep my eyes open has presented itself an undesirable chore, especially in these last few days. As I come to my senses, and allow myself to dissolve from this dazed and confused state, I am reminded of my priorities of the day. Time to seize the day once again, Leah Jeanne Walker. You’re in bloody London, stop wasting time!

I must do my due diligence to not waste any time. My mind is racing, in its usual course, as a side effect of my responsibilities as a session photographer. One moment I’m here, and the next I’m there. I am a busy working bee, and I would like to keep it that way to protect myself from diversion from what is most important in my life at the moment. Diversion is the very thing I would like to avoid at all cost. Diversion is the very thing that could get me into trouble if ever I succumb to it.

My definition of diversion at this point in my life are the perpetually vexatious and intrusive thoughts that I continue to have about Eric Stewart, the so-called bonafide and excruciatingly attractive guitarist of this darling group of rock ‘n’ roll known as 10cc, whom I have been well-acquainted with as of recent. The depravity of these thoughts is the source of my ongoing frustration and, as I mentioned, diversion from matters at hand that are more important like—For chrissake, Leah! Would you stop daydreaming about that degenerate and get in the shower. You’ve got a photo session with Pink Floyd in a couple hours. PINK FUCKING FLOYD!! I’d like to thank my conscience for helping me be reasonable and logical during times like these.

I hoist myself and make my way steadily towards the bathroom. I proceed to turn on the shower knob and adjust the water temperature to my liking. As I allow the water to run from the shower head, I mentally recap the events that unfolded a few weeks ago, the last time I had any contact with Eric Stewart or any of the members of 10cc. I strip off my garments daintily and step into the shower, dousing myself under the warm water spouting from the shower head. My thoughts are drifting once again, and I find myself engrossed in the unnecessary reminiscing of the abomination that had occurred on one particular day.

It was a few weeks ago that I was asked to collaborate with Shannon Fischer, editor and rock critic for Creem magazine, an American-based entertainment firm specializing in the endorsement of contemporary rock bands. I had been in my element taking photos of the boys and when all was said and done, disaster struck.

I assumed my seat next to Kevin, Lol and Graham. We watched and listened to Eric as he was last to be interviewed. Shannon proceeded with the queries.

“So Eric, you’ve spoken highly about the work that you and the guys do here at Strawberry and I think there’s a lot of beauty behind the craftsmanship of a musician. Tell me, what in your opinion defines beauty?”

Myself and the rest of the boys turned our attention to Eric, eager to hear his response.

Eric chuckled, exuding his typical pompous attitude.

“Shannon, my dear…first of all, I’d like to thank you for being patient with each of us here and being so thoughtful with every question. But your question for me is a real chartbuster. I really don’t know how to answer it thoughtfully, and in a way that will present itself as noncontroversial in your column—”

Eric paused briefly to collect his thoughts and proceeded to supplement his response. I noticed how he was seemingly charmed by this woman, he hadn’t peeled his gaze off her.

“But anyway, to answer your question simply, beauty…and I mean real beauty, by definition, is woman. Woman is beauty. Beauty is woman. Simple as that.”

What a strange response, and quite vague in my opinion. What’s he on about? I thought.

Shannon let out a stifled giggle, gushing at Eric’s response. I want to roll my eyes at this absurdity.

“Perfect answer, Eric. It sounds like a certain woman is, perhaps, the main driving force behind the songs that you write. Would you agree with that?”

Eric furrows his brows in wonder, understandably, on how to tackle this question. He produces a response.

“Not particularly, no.”

A slight pang of despair jabbed me in the chest, knowing that he and I have spent so much time getting to know each other this summer, and even sharing some rather, dare I say, borderline intimate moments together. Just a couple days prior, he had taken me by surprise when he kissed me, passionately, and I was foolish to have surrendered to, what I fear, was an act of lust. That day, he’d been acting odd towards me, almost dismissing me as a stranger. His response served as a testament.

But this is how Eric is, as I have come to know him. He is never black or white, there is always a gray area with him. The truth of the matter is that Eric Stewart, although shrewd at best, doesn’t necessarily know what the fuck he wants.

The next thing that came out of his mouth made my stomach churn and I couldn’t bear another sight of him after that.

“But you know, Shannon, the role of that driving force you just mentioned is still waiting to be filled.” His eyes glistened as he studied her with his eyes.

“Oh? And what do you mean by that, Eric?”

“I mean, that driving force really, could be anyone in this room. Could be you.” He smirked, grossly proud of himself.

“I think I like you, Shannon.” Eric purred at the woman, resting his hand on her thigh.

He thinks he likes her? Boy, he gets around, doesn’t he? He’s probably the most intolerable human I know. God, get me out of here please.

Shannon hooked two fingers over her mouth to stifle her giggling. She just couldn’t help but gush all over him as she had throughout this ridiculous banter. This thematic performance was making me sick to my stomach, I couldn’t sit through another minute of this.

I shot up from my seat and marched towards the front door, my fury grossly apparent in the loud clomping of my platforms. I exited gracefully, closing the door with gentle ease behind me. Prior to making a proper departure, I inhaled deeply, taking in every ounce of fresh English air that had entered my lungs, then releasing my breath slowly, expelling with it all my angst and fiendish intentions.

I began to make my stride towards the familiar path that led me home, it wasn’t long before I reached the street corner, but just before I could make my usual turn, I was halted by a familiar voice squeaking from behind me.

“Leah! Wait!” I heard footsteps running heavily towards me, which made me turn immediately.

To my consolation, I was warmly greeted by a face that was most comforting to me at a time when I was heavy with anguish.

“Lol! Oh my…are you alright?” I furrowed my brows at him, searching for his eyes.

“I’m…fine…erm..” He gasped for air in between words.

“Girl…you run…fast. Slow down next time, please.” He chuckled, seemingly pleading with his words.

“Sorry, Lol. I have long legs…unlike yours.” I stifled a giggle.

“You know what...” He waved a finger at me as if he was to provide me a lecture.

“What’s up, Lol?” Instincts told me he had something important to tell me.

He sighed before producing a response.

“Just wanted to know why you left us…so abruptly.” His wide, coffee brown eyes peered at me with bewilderment.

I stood briefly in silence and sighed. I ran my fingers through my hair, then glided them across my chin. I truly didn’t know what to say to him.

“Sweet Lol, I think you know why.” I smiled at him meekly.

He cupped my cheek with his hand and all I could do at that point was rest my face in his palm.

“I know, honey. I felt it. Give him some time. He’s a very tough egg to crack.”

So am I.

“I need to get away.” I said bluntly.

“Sometimes distance is what two people need to have in order to strengthen their bond.” He said this matter-of-factly.

“Thank you for that, Lol. Listen…” I narrow the gap between us and gaze into his eyes intently, “I’m leaving Stockport, but please just keep this between you and I. I don’t know that I’ll be coming back here. Summer’s almost over, it’ll be time for me to get back home to America soon.”

The poor thing began to sob, he scooped me up in his arms and kissed me on the cheek.

“I’m going to miss you. Please, call me, write to me. Okay?”

I peeled away from his hold gently.

“I will. I’ve got to go, Lol. Bye.” I gave him a half-hearted smile before disappearing from his line of sight.

I refused to look back at him. I continued to tread on forward. Don’t look back, whatever you do, don’t look back.

*********************************************************

August 22, 1975. Abbey Road Studios. Time is approximately 3:00 pm.

“So you’ve been doing this for a while then?”

David Gilmour, one of the most glorified guitarists of this decade, with features mirroring that of a Greek god, is currently cradling me in his well sculpted arms. We lay comfortably on the velvet crimson sofa tucked in the corner of the studio. I’ve become engrossed by the warmth radiating from his body. I sink into his chest as he interlaces our fingers.

Rick Wright is at the piano, fiddling with the opening keys to the song “The Great Gig In The Sky.” David and I hear him playing from a distance however, our minds are fleeting elsewhere.

David gapes at me with piercing blue eyes, knitting his brows.

“You haven’t answered my question, beauty.” His posh, oxford accent has an immense effect on me.

Beauty. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s called me this since my arrival to this abode.

He brings my hand up to his adonis-like face, then studies each fingertip before pressing his lips gently on each one. I quiver slightly as I watch him doting on each of my fingers with his tender, lustrous lips. I haven’t felt this tranquil in ages, and all I can manage to do right now is be swaddled by this man’s embrace.

He proceeds to nuzzle his face against my palm.

“Um…what was your question again, David?” I chuckle, maintaining my gaze on him.

My entire body has grown limp, I’m nearly sprawled out on him. Why am I feeling this way?

“David, I’m scared.” I rest my hand on his chest, peering up at him like a child who’s frightened.

“Don’t be scared,” he nestles his nose into my hair, then kisses my forehead, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

He holds me closer, securing his grip around me just enough to where I’m not suffocating. He nestles his nose into my hair then plants a gentle kiss on my head. I can feel him smiling against my hair.

David proceeds to nuzzle his nose into the crook of my neck, then prays over every inch of my neck with soft kisses.

“You’re too good to be true, Walker…” he murmurs into my ear, nipping gently at my earlobe.

I let out a soft moan, bringing my hand up to his face to delicately trace his sharp jawline.

“David…” I gasp.

“You still never answered my question,” he chuckles, “I’ll just ask you a much simpler question then, hm?”

“Ask me anything.” I giggle, throwing my arms around his neck.

He takes me by surprise when he shifts my entire body onto his lap. I immediately straddle my legs around him.

“So what were you going to ask me, hm?” I tilt my head sideways, smiling at him like a child.

“How old are you?” He gazes at me with amusement.

“I turned 29 this past March.”

“Blimey, I turned 29 in March as well. This must mean we’re…soulmates.”

He leans in and locks his lips fervently with mine, tucking my hair behind my ear then tracing my jawline with his finger. I succumb to the sweet taste of his lips, our tongues searching for each other with each wave of kiss. We hold each other close as our lips pray, our salvation being that our hearts carry no weight, but in exchange there hangs an imaginary feather hanging above us, offering us consolation and promise that nothing can harm us both during this precious moment. Hands exploring each other’s physique. I gasp faintly as I feel him reaching down and feeling my thigh. His hand travels up further, tugging at the hem of my pantyhose gently as he reaches my apex. The passionate congregation of our lips intensifies.

Neither of us seem to want to cease this moment, but I am desperate for a breath. I peel away from our debauchery for a moment. David gazes at me, appearing rather aghast.

“Why have we stopped, darling?” He mutters breathlessly, tormenting me with more ravenous kisses from the top to the base of my neck.

Another intrusive thought about Eric begins to pollute my mind. I gaze into David’s piercing blue eyes but strangely enough, only one person comes to mind at this very moment.

Eric. How is he? Does he think of me still?

Roger, as in Roger Waters, waltzes his way towards David and I, carrying with him the bottle of ludes we’ve all been chipping away at for the past hour. Explains why I’ve been feeling a bit delirious.

I can’t seem to take him seriously with that silly jester hat he’s got on his head. I stifle a giggle.

“And what have we got here? Succumbing to the throes of young love, are we?” He smiles menacingly like a chesire cat, his tone whimsical.

His eyes pan from David to me, then back to David.

David and I glance at each other, still shamelessly wrapped in each other’s embrace. I notice how we’ve both grown mildly crimson at the cheeks.

“Would you two darlings care for some more…sweets?” Roger opens the bottle of quaaludes and presents its contents before David and I, shaking the bottle gingerly to taunt us.

“Don’t mind if I do.” David wiggles his fingers in the air, as if accepting a treat. He reaches into the bottle and collects a few cream-colored tablets with his fingers.

“Your turn.” David beams at me boyishly.

Roger points the bottle towards me, his face coaxing me to treat myself.

I do as I am told and snatch a few tablets from the bottle.

“Come with me, you two. Let’s all gather in our social circle.”

Roger leads the way as David and I follow suit. He gestures for David and I to sit on the floor together with their drummer Nick Mason and distinguished keyboardist, Rick Wright who are both doing their best to conceal their laughter. They are both seated cross-legged, snickering about God knows what. I heed their conversation as I assume my seat next to David on the cold floor.

“Nicholas.” Rick exclaims.

“Yes, my love?” Nick retorts, a wide smile breaking across his face.

“What would happen if a fat woman ate a year’s worth of blueberries?”

“She’d turn into a big fat blueberry the pigeons would have a field day with.”

Rick breaks out in laughter. Resting his hands on his abdomen, he falls back gently on the floor.

David and I chortle, gazing at Rick in amusement.

The final album recording of “The Great Gig In The Sky” begins to fill the void in the studio with its rich, seductive sounds, instilling in me a great concoction of emotions oscillating between joy, melancholy, grief, and the in between. I recline gently onto the cold floor, guided by the sedating effects of this mysterious substance I have just consumed. As I fight the urge to fall asleep, my mind further transcends me to a place with utmost peace. It’s as if my body has shed all heaviness, leaving me untethered.

I crane my head over to the boys who are now sprawled out all over the floor, laughing hysterically over nothing.

“Right. Everyone, the chorus is imminent, so I want us all to sing along!” Roger announces to the group.

“Yessir!” We chirp in unison.

Just as the chorus commences, the consummated marriage between keyboard and slide guitar, I take the deepest breath in just as the others are doing presumably, then expelling all worry and fear with my breath as I exhale to the chorus blaring tremendously in the room. The deep passion and soul in the woman’s voice nearly moves me to tears but I hold back, stunned as I am I can barely comprehend anything complex at this very moment.

I am escalating higher and higher and higher, transcending both time and space, all that is living and all that is not now exist as one perfect entity, higher and higher and higher still, until…

A familiar structure hovers over me, but my mind, in its current state, cannot possibly process the identity of this figure. His face, eerily reminiscent of an angel. His white dress shirt, partially left undone, further bolsters this observation.

“Who are you?” I mutter under my breath, as I stretch my arms out to this fascinating creature.

His expression stern, he tenses his jaw as he maintains his gaze on me. I narrow my eyes at him as if to instill fear in him, but he is seemingly unbothered. The tension in his jaw intensifies, the look of scorn never leaving his angelic face.

“Speak! Bright angel, speak…” Nick’s voice cracks as he shouts at the man, extending his arms out to him.

The man takes me aback when he grasps my arm and gently hoists me up to a standstill. I land on his chest, subconsciously placing my hand on his fine patch of chest hair that’s been left exposed. He holds me as if I were fine delicate china, cocking his head back to study my face closely.

“E-Eric?” I furrow my brows at him, seemingly perplexed.

I must be dreaming. This is the quaaludes, the music messing with my head…

He says nothing. He tenses his jaw, his aggravation is grossly apparent.

“You’re out of sorts, Walker. Come, let’s get you home, hm?” He raises his brows at me, his friendly mumble providing much needed solace.

The music ends and the room has grown silent once again.

It’s him alright.

“W-what? What do you mean?” I knit my brows further at him, seeking answers as my eyes dance with his. Our silent discourse appears to have caused controversy in the room.

David sits up erect, ogling at Eric and I for a moment as he tries to process this encounter.

“Do you two know each other?” He waves his finger between Eric and I.

I continue to lock eyes at Eric, whose face relaxed immediately the moment he heard David’s query.

“Why yes. Of course we do, don’t we?” He smiles at me half-heartedly, his eyes not leaving mine.

“Yes. We do…know each other.” I smile at him meekly, my face softening as I become engrossed by this man’s eyes.

“Nicholas.” Eric breaks apart from our embrace, but hold me close as he scoops me firmly with his arm.

“Stewaarrt!” Nick jolts upwards, sounding rather jovial upon seeing Eric.

“Stewaaartt!” The rest of the boys chime in.

He runs up to Eric and I hastily, then cups Eric’s chin in his hand before leaning in to kiss him gently on the lips.

My jaw drops to the floor. Eric clears his throat, narrowing his eyes at Nick.

“Beautiful angel boy. I’ve got your scores, per your request!” Nick scurries over to the grand piano then returns to Eric with sheets of paper containing musical notes.

“Right. Thanks.” Eric sounds blunt, seemingly annoyed by what Nick has just done.

“Erm…and that thing you just did…was it really necessary, Nicholas?” Eric furrows his brows at Nick.

“Oh sorry, dear boy. I just missed seeing that beautiful face of yours.” Nick smiles at Eric boyishly.

“Oh. Right.” Eric relaxes his face, turning to face me once again.

“Shall we go then, hm?” He interrogates me with his eyes.

“And now where exactly are you taking her, Stewart?” David bounces up from the floor, drifting lazily towards Eric and I.

Eric shifts away from me, striding mindfully towards David. The two men stand two inches away from each other. David rests one hand on his hip, while running his fingers through his long, lustrous dirty blond hair with the other. I watch as they narrow their eyes equally at each other.

Nick, Roger and Rick all stand and mimic my expression as we all watch the tension rise between Eric and David.

“It’s none of your business, is it Gilmour?” Eric mildly cocks his head to the side, smiling faintly at David.

“Well it is my business if you plan on playing dirty tricks on the poor girl.”

My worst fear is imminent. The lingering effects of quaaludes have briefly left me. I march towards Eric and David.

“Please. Let’s just be nice to each ot—”

Eric raises a finger to silence me. The two men continue to stare at each other intensely.

“Let’s settle this then. Outside?” David raises a brow, smirking at Eric.

“No.” Eric cranes his head towards me.

“Let’s have the lady decide who she wants to go home with.” Eric strains his jaw, his expression dark yet inviting.

Eric and David switch their gaze to meet mine, velvet brown and piercing blue ogling me with unsettling intensity. My head sways between Eric to David then back to Eric. My eyes settle into Eric’s doe-like gaze. I make my spontaneous decision.

“You. Eric.” I blurt out confidently.

David walks up to me steadily. He then brings his hand up to my face, caressing my cheek with his finger.

“I suppose this is goodbye then,” David murmurs under his breath, “but if you ever have any second thoughts about him, you know where to find me.”

Tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear, he leans in to plant a gentle kiss on my lips. My mind is still in a dazed state. I have no words.

I watch as Eric clenches his fist, gazing at David with undeniable fury. Eric stomps his way towards me, then clasps my arm firmly. He glares at David who appears to be gawking at him with a self-satisfied grin.

“Time’s getting on. Let’s get you home.” Eric speaks frankly, glaring at David.

*********************************************************

August 24, 1975. Hammersmith Odeon. Time is approximately 12:45 am.

The song. This is it. The final song of the night.

Despite any animosity between Eric and I, I kept my promise to the boys of coming to their Hammersmith show tonight. Our interaction last night was rather brief, he made sure I had settled into my hotel, we said our farewells for the night, then disappeared from each other’s line of sight. I wasn’t bothered.

But tonight the energy is slightly different. Having seen the boys live for the first time, front and center at that, I can attest that they have been nothing short of exceptional. These four wonderful lads from Manchester whom I have come to love and adore immensely, have made me very proud tonight. I heed close as Eric, seated comfortably at the grand piano, makes some opening remarks about the final song.

“Thank you, Hammersmith. Thank you, London. You’ve been a wonderful crowd tonight, and I’ve been thrilled to see all the beautiful smiling faces in the audience from up here. You may not think we see you but trust me, we see you.” Eric chuckles, craning his head over to Lol.

“Isn’t that right, Lol?”

“We. See. YOU.” Lol points his finger teasingly at the audience.

The crowd laughs gracefully. I find myself giggling at the duo’s playfulness.

Eric spots me in the audience and locking eyes with me, he produces his trademark juvenile smile. He strips his gaze away from me and continues his speech.

“About this last song…every blood, sweat and tear went into this song. Myself, Lol, Graham and Kev worked tirelessly at the studio to produce this monster, as we like to call it and I’m proud to say, that it is our pride and joy. Just before the show started, someone stopped me and asked ‘Eric, what’s the meaning behind that song?’ and my answer to that is, it can mean whatever you want it to mean. It is a love song, after all. So, I will be singing this song to you as it was meant to be sung. With love. We hope you like it.”

He clears his throat then fiddles with a few notes on the piano before delving deeply into the song. The backing track with the trademark white noise produced by multiplying Lol, Graham and Kev’s voices times…times God knows what, but it’s genius whatever they did. Eric elaborated on the nuts and bolts behind the making of the song and what I gathered from it was, the simple utilization of tape loops. Then of course, Eric being Eric, went on to discuss all the other technicalities that needed to happen in order to perfect this piece. The outcome? This monster that he is currently blessing our ears with.

“And just because..I call you up..don’t get me wrong, don’t think you’ve got it made..” He croons.

Is he speaking to anyone in particular? Is he perhaps speaking to…me?

I sit and listen, bemused by the music, entranced by the man who is pouring all his mind, body and soul into this song. The night is in full swing however, tonight has also felt young and restless. I allow myself to be engulfed by the music and be influenced by the imminence of what the night has in store for me.

********************************************************* It is rather bittersweet that the show had to come to an end. But that’s showbiz, as they say. I stroll lazily towards the exit of the stadium when a framed display captures my attention. It is an inscription about the history of The Apollo, though most commonly known as The Hammersmith Odeon. It goes on to showcase all the acts that have performed here previously including Elton John, The Who, Lou Reed, The Beach Boys and of course, The Beatles.

“Hi.” A tender voice purrs from behind me.

I turn around to see the man of the hour, Eric Stewart. He is wearing his black button up halfway undone, as he does frequently, under his white suit jacket. His black trousers and baby blue platforms complement the rest of his attire, and the gold chain necklace hanging around his neck simply accents his getup.

“Hello, Eric.” I smile at him meekly.

He narrows the gap between us, his body emitting a certain level of warmth that is ever so comforting to me.

“We didn’t get to talk much last night.” His jaw muscles tense.

“Well I wasn’t exactly in the proper state to talk, was I?” I chuckle, gazing into his beautiful velvet brown doe eyes.

A feeble smile creases his face. He stands in brief silence as he mentally processes my remark.

“Enzo?” A woman chirps from behind him.

“G! Hi!” Eric’s face is beaming upon meeting the woman eye to eye.

“How. Why. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Eric gapes at her wide-eyed.

The tall, slim, picture-perfect blonde gazes at him with amusement. They exchange firm hugs, then peel away to study each other.

“You know I live around here now, so I thought I’d drop in to see what all the fuss was about. Anyway, you were so good, Enzo. Very proud of you, darling.” She cups his cheek in her hand, then turns her attention to me, smiling sheepishly.

“G, this is Leah. She’s been working for us at the studio, taking photos of us and what not, but she has become the 5th member, in a way.” He chuckles.

5th member? That has to be one of the greatest delusions of the century.

“Hello, dear. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’m Gloria, Dee’s mum. You know, Eric and my darling girl speak very highly of you.”

We shake hands firmly. I have no words for how stunning this woman looks. This woman makes me look like the unwanted bits at the meat factory.

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Gloria. And Dieta, boy…she is sensational. That girl is going places I can tell.”

“She really is. She takes after her father, really.” She chuckles, glancing at Eric who appears seemingly amused listening to us girls talk.

“Right. I’ll let you two girls get acquainted. I’ll go check in to see how the guys are doing.”

“Oh, right. Before you go, may I have a word with you, Enzo?” Gloria beams at Eric.

“Excuse us for a moment.” Gloria smiles at me, gracefully whisking Eric off to the side.

“Sure.”

I watch as the two of them chatter indistinctly, I slowly make my way towards a quiet corner as to not disturb them. Eric appears to be in his element, chatting with Gloria. He has mentioned her to me previously, but has kept quiet about her since. I must say, the two of them make a gorgeous pair. I smile as I look on, watching their little banter. My expression immediately turns sour when I witness Gloria leaning in to kiss Eric on the lips, holding his face in her hand.

I thought he said they were divorced? Why the hell do I care? I’m not even with him.

Eric scurries off to meet with the boys somewhere while Gloria makes her way back towards me.

“Sorry about that. I had to remind him to get Dee ready by early morning tomorrow as her and I are going school shopping in Leicester Square. Knowing Eric, he tends to forget little details like that sometimes.” Gloria smiles at me gingerly.

“It’s all good.” I grin at her widely, concealing the knife jabbed in me from seeing her kiss him.

“So I heard you and Eric are getting on quite well, hm?” She inquires with her eyes.

“Well, we haven’t really spoken in a while but he’s been easy to work with from my experience.”

“Can I just say something to you, Leah?” She narrows the gap between us, her tone has shifted to a more ominous one.

“Yes. Anything.”

“I must warn you about Eric.”

Warn me? About him? Why?

“I- I don’t understand.” I smile subtly, furrowing my brows at her.

“Well it’s just that, Eric is a musician and his career seems to be peaking. He’s never going to be in one place all the time if he’s touring, and he’s always getting loads of attention because he’s a celebrity.”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I still don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.” I genuinely have no words to say to this woman.

“My point is that, are you ready to lead that kind of life? Being the girlfriend of a rockstar that will almost always be, let’s just say, fleeting? It’s the reason why him and I didn’t work out. We couldn’t stand being apart from each other all the time.” She raises her brow at me.

She thinks she has me figured out, but she’s wrong. Totally wrong.

“With all due respect, Gloria, I’m going to have to correct you there because Eric and I..he’s not..we’re not dating.” I state matter-of-factly.

“Oh? Well then why does he sound all mushy about some girl whenever he shares life updates with me over the phone?”

“Perhaps he’s talking about another girl?” I smile at her feebly.

“That’s impossible. He’s definitely talking about you, Leah. That’s why I couldn’t wait to meet you in person.”

And to think that they still remain in communication. Are they still sleeping together? Oh dear, I need to rid myself of these thoughts.

She sounds quite pleased to see me, but something about what she just said is corrupting my brain. I notice Eric making his way towards Gloria and I, but something tells me I should go.

“Gloria, I’m sorry to cut this short but I should get going. I’ve got work to do in the morning and it’s way past my bed time.”

“Oh dear of course, but..aren’t you going wait for Eric?”

“No, it’s ok. I really should get going.”

She plants a gentle kiss on my cheek as I prepare to depart. I smile at her delicately.

“It was very nice meeting you, Gloria.”

“Likewise, Leah.”

I glance at her, nodding at her closing remark. I march towards the exit hastily without looking back. When I get out to the street, I make a left and carry on walking. I would like to dismiss everything that just happened in the last 10, 20 minutes, but it is perpetually ingrained in my mind.

Suddenly, a familiar voice calls out to me, the approaching footsteps echo louder as they get more imminent.

“Leah..hang on…”

I turn around to see Eric panting, desperate for a breath. He rests his hands on his knees as he tries to regain his breath. He grasps me by the shoulders, establishing a firm grip on them.

“Where do you think you’re going, hm?” His doe eyes search for mine.

“Home.” I state with minimal context.

“Don’t be silly. I was wondering if you would like to go to our after party. You know, with me and the lads. There will be other guests there, but it’s mainly just us.” He smiles at me boyishly.

“Eric, I really have to go—”

“Was it something she said to you?”

How does he know?

“What do you mean?”

“Gloria. Has she said something to you that you didn’t like?”

Yes. But let’s just forget it now.

“No, not really. She is sensational.” I chuckle, drifting my head off to the side.

He places two fingers on my chin, turning my head to face him. I gaze up at him, eager to hear what he has to say.

“You were about to leave before hearing what I have to say to you. I was going to save it for a more special time but—”

“Then it can wait, Eric. It’s getting late. I have to g—”

“Leah Walker, I love you. In fact, I am deeply, madly and immensely in love with you. Day, afternoon, evening and night I think about you. And if I don’t say any of this to you now, I don’t know when I’ll ever have the chance to. You’re always disappearing on me.”

I gape at him facetiously. I am at a complete loss for words.

“Eric, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you drunk?”

“No I’m not, which is why I’m saying all this to you now while I’m sober because this is how I really feel about you, how I’ve felt about you since the day you set foot in our studio. Don’t want to keep hiding it no more.”

“You’re not capable of loving me, Eric.” I retort frankly.

“Oh yes I bloody am. Allow me to show you.”

He leans in to kiss me ravenously, holding me close to him. I am at his mercy, succumbing to the soft, delicious taste of his lips with some tongue added to this passionate engagement.

I peel away from him briefly, furrowing my brows at him.

“What about Gloria? Aren’t you two—”

“No, we’re not together. Like I said before, we are long divorced. She’s happily married to someone else.”

“But I saw her kissing you…” I bring my head down, glancing at the ground below me.

He cranes my head up with his finger to face him once again.

“Don’t know why she did that, but I didn’t like it either. I want your kisses instead.” He showcases that stupid boyish smile of his.

We resume our lip and tongue fantasy-brought-to-life. Hands fumbling all over each other. Each tidal wave of kiss comes with a burst of flames, and the instant realization of the candor in our burning desire for each other. Eric strips away from me, seemingly wanting to get a word in.

“Would you like to be in my company tonight?” His eyes are screaming for me to agree.

“Well, the thing is—”

“Please?” He is pleading with his eyes, as per usual.

“Ok.” I smile at him sheepishly.

********************************************************* I watch as I look at myself in the mirror, studying my features. Eric comes up behind me, snaking his scrawny arms around my waist. He alternates between kissing and sucking the crook of my neck, then gently nips at my earlobe.

“Walker..” I feel him smiling against my ear. His hot breath is giving me goosebumps.

“Happy?” Our noses touch the moment I turn my head to face him. We giggle in unison.

“Yes but more importantly are you happy?”

He gazes at me as I ogle at the two of us in the mirror.

“Look at us..we are perfect.” He rests his chin on my shoulder, kissing my neck repeatedly as he tightens his hold around me.

I turn around completely to face him, chaining my arms around his neck. I cock my head to the side as I peer into his velvet brown eyes.

“So what now, hm?” I smile at him from ear and ear.

“I must prove my love to you. I want you, Leah, and I’m going to make you mine right now.” His expression is smug, devouring every part of me with just his eyes.

I squeal loudly as he scoops me up in his arms, holding onto him snugly. He glides me towards his bed, then descends me gently onto the soft mattress. I lay on my side as I rest my cheek on my hand, resting all my weight on my elbow, watching him closely.

“So you get to take advantage of me now that you’ve gotten me a bit drunk, hm?” I giggle.

“Mm, aren’t I a lucky chap?” He smirks at me, fumbling to unbutton his shirt.

I giggle in amusement as I watch him struggle to undo the buttons on his shirt. I bounce off the bed to assist him.

“I believe you’re in need of assistance, sir.” I tilt my head to one side, beaming at him as I help him finish unbuttoning his shirt. I reach up to lock my lips with his. He slips out of his dress shirt as our lips continue to pray.

Each time our lips touch, sparks fill the air and there are flames bursting everywhere once again. As we progress through passionate lip locking, he slips me out of my tank top, my breasts springing before him, my nipples grazing against his juvenile side profile. His eyes widen as he studies my figure. He leans in to kiss me gently on the lips, then works his way down my neck and all across my collarbone with a trail of kisses.

“God, you are absolute sensation, my love.” He mutters against my bare skin.

He returns to kissing me on the lips, gliding his hand over my breast. He stoops down to give my nipple a little suck, all while slipping me out of my skirt. I let out a soft moan, running my fingers through his long, soft jet black hair. He cocks his head back to ogle at me closely. He stares down at my pantyhose, furrowing his brows and sighing.

“Did you really have to make it a job for me to unwrap you?” He cackles.

“Well if you’re going me to make yours, I better subject you to hard labor.”

“Come here you cheeky monkey.” We giggle as he tackles me gently onto the bed, with him landing on top of me, his gold chain glistening above me.

“Nice necklace. Gold, is it?” I fiddle with his necklace playfully.

“No time for small talk, let’s get to the point.”

He shows no mercy between kissing me ravenously on the lips and the alternating sucking and nipping motion on my neck. I moan loudly.

“Eric..” I gasp.

“Yes.” He exclaims, coming up briefly to utter a word then resuming his relentless kisses.

“Make love to me.”

He pauses. Sitting up erect, he smiles at me from ear to ear. He hovers over me once again, lowering his face unto me to peck me on the lips.

“Your wish is my command, your highness.”

He fumbles deftly as he slips me out of my undergarments and I help him out of his. I am taken by surprise when a condom slips out of his pocket. I pinch it between two fingers and present it to him.

“Well what have we got here?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh bloody hell...that’s all Graham’s work. We won’t be needing this tonight.” He smirks, snatching the condom out of my fingers and tossing it on the floor.

My jaw is on the floor. The audacity of this man. Unbelievable.

He proceeds to go down exploring every inch of my bare body. He sucks on my nipple, slipping two fingers into his mouth to wet them then lowers them to thrust his skilled digits delicately into my opening. I gasp audibly. He continues to thrust his fingers in and out of me relentlessly. I moan into the air, grasping a massive lock of his hair.

“Oh my god..” I moan.

He proceeds to go down even further, kissing my abdomen then my lips down south. He continues the blasphemous act of thrusting his fingers in and out of me as he eats me like a starving man. He carefully pushes my knees upwards as he feeds his hunger with this feast, causing me I moan even louder.

“Eric…please…”

“Don’t..come..yet.” He mutters breathlessly in between eating me.

I can feel my nectar seeping out and making its way onto his fingers. As if on cue, he slips his fingers out of me abruptly then strokes his outstanding erection before me. He stares at me menacingly, licking his lips coated with my sweet essence. He then proceeds to slide his highly engorged girth into me, causing us both to moan out load.

“Oh bloody hell, Leah...” He murmurs into my cheek as he lowers himself onto me.

“I fucking want you..I fucking want all of you..forever..if possible…” He says breathlessly in between thrusts, his erection throbbing at my entrance.

“I want you too...” I retort, bringing his face closer to me and locking my lips with his. I kiss him ever so fervently.

“I meant what I said when I told you I loved you. And this is me showing you how much I fucking love you.” He moans into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“Shh..stop cursing. It’s not very gentleman-like.” I moan, bringing my thumb to my mouth and biting the side of it.

“Shut up.” He chortles.

“No, you shut up.” I retort, smirking at him.

“Oh, right. If you say so...”

He proceeds to thrust in and out of me harder..faster..harder…faster..faster…faster…

“Eric…”

“Leah..my love..I’m…”

“Me too…me too..”

“Oh god..” He grunts loudly. “Ahh fuck Leah, I love you! I love you so bloody much..”

We climax simultaneously. I feel his warm seed seeping out of me. I allow him to rest his entire body weight on me as we both strive get our breathing under control. I begin to play with his now disheveled hair. I plant a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“I love you too, Eric.”

He lays on his side, using his elbow to prop himself up then resting his face on his hand. He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, a wide smile breaking across his face. He proceeds to caress my cheek with his finger.

“I love you. You make me a happy man. Stay with me..forever.” He beams at me like a wee boy who’s just hit the jackpot at the candy store.

“Forever?”

“Forever.” He leans in to seal his word with a kiss.

“So, did you miss me?” he chuckles.

“After doing what we just did, you’re just now asking me this?” I roll my eyes at him, chuckling.

“Sure, why not? It’s a civil question, isn’t it?” He showcases his trademark juvenile smile.

He leans in to kiss me ardently with added tongue. I surrender myself to him, knowing fully well this is what we were both craving all along.

Ever the charmer, Stewart.

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