Author's note: I made this up for fun. It's kind of a Charlie Bushnell x reader, but it's also not because it's not solely focused on them, but it is kind of mentioned...sort of.

Reader x pjo cast - (Short drabble)

Plot: Y/n's goes to a red carpet premiere event with her sister, Dior, and the rest of the pjo cast and Dior (being Dior) is trying to round up the group for a photo that not everybody may want to be in and some would say are even desperate enough to hide from an insistent "Mama" Dior.

 "I don't know if I wanna do this, Leah," I complain to my famous friend, everyone knows as Leah Sava Jeffries, while digging my fingernails into my palm distractedly.

"Don't worry, you'll do great," she replies with an encouraging smile, before realizing.

I send a deadpan gaze her way.

"I swear that wasn't intentional—"

"Oh, it wasn't intentional that you quoted—word for word—-one of the famous lines your character says in the Percy Jackson show?" I ask, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

"It wasn't, I promise" she insists, holding her hands up in surrender.

"Ugh, I'm so nervous!" I groan, shaking out my hands as I anxiously glance around at our surroundings outside the windows of the vehicle currently driving us to a 'Percy Jackson and the Olympians' red carpet premiere.

"You overthinking this way too much, Y/n," my sister, Dior, insists with a chuckle.

I scowl at her. "Easy for you to say, you're an actual celebrity—I'm not."

"Says who?"

"Says me, that's who!"

"Y/n, literally no one cares if you're a celebrity or not."

"Mhm," I reply, shooting her an unconvinced side-eyed glare.

"Besides, they'll be too focused on Leah and I to care."

"Maybe. But I care!"

Dior turns to Leah, gesturing to me. "This girl, I swear..."

Leah hides a smile.

I slouch in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest with a firmly set frown on my face, huffing in frustration. "Why do I have to go?"

"Because," Dior absentmindedly answers, now scrolling on her phone.

"That's not a good enough reason!" I argue, narrowing my eyes and glaring daggers at an oblivious Dior.

Finally looking up, Dior turns her phone off and sets it down, turning to me. "Well, here's a better reason, then: we all want you there."

My glare softens. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Leah confidently replies without hesitation.

I sigh, sitting up properly. "Fine."

"Hey, look, we're here!" Leah says, grinning in excitement as she shifts over towards the vehicle door to get out. "C'mon, let's go!"

Fear washes over me all over again once I take in how many people there really are, and I start to doubt my decision.

"You know..." I start, nervously scooting as far away from the door of the vehicle as I can without making it obvious to Dior. "On second thought—"

"Aaand we're going," Dior announces in a non-negotiable tone, wedging herself in between me and the seat before shoving me towards the door Leah just left through.

"Dior!" I angrily protest in slight panic, resisting her surprisingly strong attempts to forcefully push me out of the vehicle. "Are you crazy—I'm not going first!"

"Too late," she replies, giving me a harder shove I wasn't expecting and I stumble out of the vehicle and somehow manage not to trip and fall over on the sleek red carpet.

Before I can even remember to panic, I'm blinded by an unnecessary amount of flashing cameras that it's almost hard to believe this isn't some over-exaggerated paparazzi movie scene you always see in films.

'How does anyone walk normally at these kinds of red carpet events?!' I wonder.

I somehow manage to keep a fake smile plastered on my face and successfully walk in the right direction even as I—pretty much blindly, at this point—wade through the ocean of photographers and nosy reporters spouting the most random questions you can imagine as they shove microphones in my face. Which I annoyedly smack away without trying to appear too rude.

I swear, they'll say anything to get information out of actors and actresses these days.

And I can't help but wonder how much they even get paid to ask such embarrassingly odd and personal questions that no one even answers anyway.

...Or if they even get paid at all and only do it purely for the rude—and dare I say, unhealthy— curiosity of it.

Finally, we make it the wide open space with a few backdrops bannered with large posters you usually see actors posing in front of for a big photoshoot.

More like a social anxiety spotlight, if you ask me.

A tightness I didn't realize was in my chest loosens a little once I've walked farther into the room and there's more breathing space.

But it's a short-lived moment of peace as I realize I don't recognize anyone in my vicinity and make a 360 degree turn, scanning for any familiar faces.

I blow out a breath of relief when I see Walker talking to a reporter with Leah and Aryan flanking his sides.

"There you are," Dior's voice says from behind me, her hand resting on my shoulder as I turn around.

"Where'd you scamper off to so coincidentally quickly?" I ask grumpily with a scowl.

"I went to find everyone else," she explains, glancing around me to get a better look at the trio being interviewed. "But I see you've beaten me to it."

I shrug. "Sort of. I mean...it's mostly everyone."

"Oh, yeah," she admits with a frown, looking at the mingling people and individuals passing by. "Now that you mention it, we're still missing Charlie and Andrew."

My heart rate picks up at the mention of Charlie's name.

Yes, I admit I have a thing for Charlie.

It's frustrating how hard it is to even talk about it. Just thinking about his name, alone, makes me paranoid that the whole world's watching me through every pair of eyes on this dang planet.

I try to hide my growing excitement to catch even a glimpse of him.

I've no doubt he looks effortlessly handsome in whatever outfit he's chosen to wear for tonight's event.

Pretending to be interested in the question Walker, Leah, and Aryan are currently answering, I subtly glance around for Charlie.

Thankfully, as far as I know, Dior's entirely oblivious to my—at least, what I would call—pointless infatuation.

But I still get the feeling that one mention of his name from my me is all it'll take for her to easily put the pieces together and figure it out.

I'm so on-edge that all my senses seem to be heightened to twice the their normal levels. Which is why I nearly jump out of my skin when I suddenly hear Charlie's voice to my right, where Dior's standing.

"Hey, Dior!" He greets with a cheerful smile as he pulls her in for a friendly hug.

Almost too friendly, if you ask me...

Or maybe that's just me overanalyzing and looking too much into it...

Yeah, that's probably it.

"Charlie!" Dior seems just as happy to see him—if not, relieved at having one less person to look for now. "Seen anyone else recently? I'm trying to gather everybody for a group photo but, I swear, it's like they're hiding from me or something!"

"No, actually, I haven't," Charlie answers, half-heartedly joining in the search as he takes a quick glance around for any more of the cast. "There's not a lot of places to hide, really."

"Well, when it comes to Dior relentlessly hunting down the cast for a group photo, I'm sure if they're desperate enough—which I've no doubt they are—they'll find someplace to hide if it means she won't find them," I tease.

"Y/n! I'm glad you decided to come," Charlie says, just now noticing me, turning to give me a hug his smile seemingly widened. But maybe that was just me imagining it. I wouldn't be surprised at this point—I make up all kinds of fantasies guaranteed to never exist outside my head.

"You guys," Dior protests in a whine. "We have to take at least one picture of everybody in one photo. Honestly, you'll thank me later when you start to miss all of this later on."

She stands on her tiptoes to peek over the crowd as she continues searching around for anyone else. "I think we're just missing Andrew now, actually. He shouldn't be too hard to find, right?"

I scoff lightly in amusement.

"Yeah, and how much you wanna bet he's intentionally taking his time primping up in the bathroom as we speak?" I mutter to myself, but Charlie catches what I said and laughs.

I share a smile with him, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at having made him laugh.

"Nice to know you haven't lost your sense of humor," he chuckles, nudging my side playfully.

"Please, you guys wish you were as funny as me," I joke with a prideful smirk.

"I doubt that. But feel free to keep telling yourself that, Angel, if it makes you feel better," he retorts with a confident shrug, tucking his hands in his pockets as he shoots me a mischievous smile and wink.

I pretend to ignore the nickname—not to mention the wink...—and study his outfit instead cause dang, I gotta hand it to him, he looks great in a suit—although, if I'm being entirely honest, he looks good in pretty much anything. I have yet to find something that doesn't look like it was specifically designed for him.

"Hey—psst! Charlie!" An exaggeratedly hushed voice utters from behind Charlie and I, a hand suddenly reaching up to tap his shoulder.

Andrew pokes his head out from behind Charlie, subtly peeking around him for a particular someone who's been looking for him and hasn't realized yet how close she is to finding him if she'd just turn around.

"Is the coast clear yet?" He whispers, although, it's not much of a whisper since he has to raise his voice a little louder to be heard over the overlapping voices surrounding us.

Unfortunately for him, Dior perks up at his voice and turns around towards the source of his voice, her face dropping into an, almost motherly, disapproving stare.

"I've managed to avoid her for a while but I lost track of her," he glances every which way for her, completely ignorant of her literally standing no more than two feet away from behind him. "So, any chance you guys have seen"—he cuts himself off, startling and scrambling backwards as he finally turns around to meet a scowling Dior looming slightly over him—"Dior!"

She raises an unimpressed brow at him, arms crossed over her chest.

"Hey—there you are!" He exclaims in feigned relief. "Been looking everywhere for you since, uh, since I know how much you love gathering everyone for a—"

"Group photo?" She finishes for him.

"Exactly!" He agrees.

"So, where'd you manage to hide from me this time?" She asks, getting directly to the point.

He opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off.

"In the camera equipment?"

He opens his mouth again to reply but...

"In the storage closet?"

"Actually, this time, I—"

"Behind a backdrop?"

"Alright, clearly that one was too obvious but—"

"In the flower bushes?"

"You gotta admit that was a pretty genius—-"

"In a tree?"

"Alright, that one definitely wasn't one of my best id—"

"Under a table?"

"To be fair, I didn't know the table could even move, but I was smart this time and I actually—"

"You know, I'm not even sure I wanna hear it this time," Dior interrupts for the umpteenth time, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Feel free to jump in anytime, guys," Andrew offers sarcastically as he briefly turns to Charlie and I—just enjoying the show—and letting out a nervous chuckle. "You know, whenever you feel like it."

"I'm good, actually," Charlie simply replies, shaking is head, unbothered by the whole exchange.

"No, thanks," I shrug, arms folded casually across my chest as I suppress a thoroughly amused smile.

He glares daggers at us both before turning back to Dior.

"Okay, I admit my previous attempts might not have been, um...the smartest," he says, rubbing the back of his neck, before his eyes light up in almost childlike excitement, a lightbulb appearing to go off in his head. "But—but you're gonna love what I did this time, I can promise you that. So lemme just explain in great detail, just exactly how I went about it and—"

"And stall our group photo more than you already have?" Dior guesses with an arched brow. "Yeah, I don't think so, Alvarez."

"Ooh," I murmur to Charlie with a barely suppressed snicker. "She used his last name."

"She definitely means business now," Charlie replies with a quiet laugh.

Dior snatches Andrew's wrist—in what must be a death grip, considering the way he winces—and starts dragging him towards the 'Percy Jackson and the Olympians' backdrop poster against one of the walls nearby, calling to the trio to follow her for the group photo.

Leah, Walker, and Aryan all turn their heads in unison, voicing their agreement before immediately stifling some laughs when they see Andrew being effortlessly hauled behind her.

"Help?" He calls to them, only to receive three comically casual little waves from the trio as they watch him pass by. 

Resisting her pull and failing to slow down Dior's pull by digging his feet into the ground, Andrew turns around to glower at Charlie and I. "Really? You guys couldn't have backed me up even a little bit?"

"What? And miss an entertaining scolding from Mama Dior?" I ask in mock disbelief, before shaking my head in disagreement.

"Absolutely not," Charlie finishes with a shake of his head.

"You guys suck, you know that?" Andrew calls to us as Dior continues dragging him away like an angry mother.

The sound of Andrew trying to negotiate with Dior, as she ignores him entirely, can clearly be heard from where Charlie and I stand.

While happily watching in amusement, Charlie and I fist bump each other with devilish grins on our faces, like twin Cheshire cats that just got away with tormenting the queen of hearts.

Author's note: Anyway, I hope whoever read this enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Have a great day/night, God bless!💗💋