#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆��˚ ❀

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

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You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Prongs, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

[g1rld1ary]

5 people james didn't mean to kiss (and one he did) ; james potter x fem!reader

➻ first james fic!! i love reviving old fanfic trends <33

➻ word count: 4494

➻ synopsis: says it on the tin baby!

➻ warnings: swearing, allusions to sex/dirty jokes, era typical homophobia (basically nonexistent)

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James Potter was a very affectionate person, everyone knew that. His love language was absolutely physical touch — everyone knew that too. It was also assumed, therefore, that James Potter had an extensive list of kisses. That assumption wasn’t necessarily wrong, but a good chunk of them weren’t exactly what you imagined when thinking of the great James Potter kissing someone. They were often impulsive when he didn’t know how else to express his feelings. His very first kiss, for example, wasn’t exactly the cheesy, romantic soap opera that he often advertised providing for girls.

Sirius Black

The Marauders sat in their dorm room, early on in second year. While first year was packed with ridiculous adventures and the forming of their friendship group, second year brought a new awareness of girls, romance and especially kissing. That was the topic of discussion as the boys all packed into one bed, hypothesising about what it might be like. James and Sirius led the discussion with much bravado and false confidence whilst Peter looked decidedly scared. Remus, to his credit, just looked rather amused at it all.

“But where do you touch her?” James asked, eyes still wide and innocent and twelve years old, “I can’t just stand there with my hands at my sides like a twat!”

“Don’t be stupid, you hold her like this.” Sirius bent his arms in a direction that looked borderline painful. Remus huffed and climbed off the bed, pulling both the boys with him.

“If you’re gonna kiss a girl,” Remus instructed, “You have to hold her gently. Don’t push her around like she’s dead weight. James, put your arms around Sirius’ waist like that, now Sirius, you put your arms around his neck.”

“Pete’s gonna think we’re bent,” Sirius grumbled, a red hue on his cheeks.

“You are bent, you poof,” Peter quipped from his spot on the bed. He was right, of course, but that wouldn’t come to light until fourth year. James thought this was hilarious though, and began miming exaggerated — rather sloppy — kisses. And since James never failed to cure Sirius of his moods, he did the same. Remus rolled his eyes as the two boys acted out a passionate scene, loose tongues and all, until they were no longer acting.

All four boys in the dorm were frozen as James and Sirius’ mouths had accidentally connected in their stupidity, none of them sure what to do. Seconds passed as the two stood, lips locked against each other, no one daring to move. At least, until Remus let out a long, uncharacteristic wheeze, which dissolved into a fit of giggles that he would usually be mortified by, but there was no way he was outdoing the kiss anytime soon. Peter followed along momentarily, laughing so hard barely any sound actually came out, silent heaves punctuated by gasping breaths.

Released from their stupor both boys leapt apart, wiping their mouths with their forearms. Both had comical expressions of disgust, still slightly too stunned to verbalise any of it.

“We,” James heaved, “Can never speak of this again. Ever.” Sirius agreed in a heartbeat, still unable to completely wipe the blush from his pale complexion. He probably would have dwelled on those feelings if James wasn’t James, beginning to see the humour in it soon enough. By the end of the night it was an inside joke that would proceed to be referenced countless times within the walls of Hogwarts.

So although James would tell the story of his first kiss quite differently — he alleged it was with a Ravenclaw named Keeley a few weeks later, his proper first kiss will always have been with one Sirius Black in the Gryffindor dormitories on an otherwise unassuming Tuesday evening. And that secret was held onto dearly by all four marauders until, of course, Sirius’ best man speech at James’ wedding, where the anecdote received uproarious applause, loudest of all by James himself.

2. Remus Lupin

The Marauders had all known about Remus’ ‘furry little problem’ since their second year — first for the most perceptive of the bunch. Nevertheless, the group were insistent in helping Remus in any way they could, though it was a difficult task when his alter ego had no resistance to killing them. Until Sirius had come to them with the idea of becoming animagi. It was difficult no doubt, advanced magic far beyond the teaching at Hogwarts, but the four of them were exceptional wizards each in their own way, and the project seemed somewhat manageable with four brains chipping away at it over the course of two years.

When they finally did get it, hardly any of them could believe it, least of all Remus. He had never imagined that the human side of him was worthy of this much love and devotion, let alone the monster within him. However, despite how they tried to play it off, the achievement didn’t come easily to any of them. Sirius was the first to get it, big black dog accompanying the group around the castle and becoming an unexpected staple of the Gryffindor common room. You in particular liked to cuddle up with him on the couch and spoil him with head scratches when you were stressed from school — at least until the secret was revealed and you hit him upside his human head for deceiving you.

James was second to get it, though much less gracefully than Sirius. The whole group of Gryffindors had been hanging out together down by the Black Lake, enjoying the slowly warming weather after class one day. James had the misfortune of being sat between you and Lily, which made things very confusing for his hormonal body and brain. His eyes were trained on his hands, too afraid to actually talk to either of you and embarrass himself which was what usually happened. You and Lily, however, were hell bent on making that occur. While James had had a well known crush on Lily for the last few years, ever since you’d come back to school that year post-puberty you could both tell that James was both emotionally and physically confused. You both delighted in this and used it to your advantage, Lily finding him the most annoying man on earth and you delighting in his flustered expressions (secretly finding him actually pretty cute).

After thirty minutes of torture, James couldn’t take it. You’d made one too many dirty jokes directed at him and he was a blushing mess, fidgeting awkwardly between you and Lily laughing gleefully. He excused himself quickly and uncharacteristically quietly, hurrying off to be out of sight of his friends. You all laughed as you watched him go, and Remus reluctantly stood, muttering something about making sure James didn’t drive himself crazy.

Remus headed straight to the Forbidden Forest, knowing the privacy would be what James desired in the moment. Sure enough there he was, taking a moment to breathe against a tree.

“Easy there, Potter, don’t cum in your pants,” He joked, obviously amused by the whole ordeal. James turned quickly, devastated at Remus seeing him so sexually frustrated.

“Sod off, Lupin. It’s not my fault! They both just sit there looking so fucking good, talking about all these unholy things and you expect me to just be fine with it? It’s so—” Instead of the exasperated groan Remus expected, he was met with a stag standing tall in front of him. He couldn’t help his mouth dropping open, the animal far more magnificent than he could have expected out of the fourteen year old boy.

In a weird shift of figure the deer was back to boy, and James only had a moment of shocked stillness before he was whooping and yelling in the grass. Remus joined him, the two of them yelling and dancing around like idiots in their joy. James pulled him in for a hug, appropriately masculine until he pressed a kiss onto Remus’ lips, still grinning ecstatically as they pulled away. Remus scowled in a way he hoped was convincing.

“I hate it when you do that, Potter,” He grumbled as the two of them returned to their friends.

“Yeah, right,” James laughed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s a blessing to be kissed by my sexy arse.”

3. Peter Pettigrew

While all four of the Marauders were undoubtedly exceptional wizards, that didn’t always translate into their grades. For example, being so ahead in the curriculum made James Potter get lazy, often submitting subpar essays simply because he figured it was already common knowledge and he was more interested in higher level magic. He always ended up with top grades from outstanding extra credit projects, but the point still stood.

Peter was similarly a great wizard. Perhaps not so much a prodigy like James or Sirius, and didn’t dominate the class ranks like Remus, but he did well for himself and was pretty exceptional in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. However, he was failing History of Magic. All four of them had chosen the subject for their OWLs, assuming it would be an easy O because of the ghost professor. They couldn’t be more wrong. Binns was a useless teacher and Peter especially found it difficult to teach himself the material just from the textbook, and was falling dreadfully behind, each essay earning a worse grade than the last.

James had offered to help tutor him before their exams, and the two buckled down in the library almost every day in the weeks leading up to exam season. Peter made pretty good progress, eager to catch up with his friends and prove he was on their level. Still, everyone was nervous for the test and its outcome.

When results were released, you and the Gryffindors were all together. Whilst you and the girls all got the reveal over and done with, the boys all waited with bated breaths. Most of the grades weren’t shocking — three of them knew they could easily get top grades from the little effort they put in, but they were all waiting on Peter’s History of Magic grade. The blond boy opened his paper with shaky hands, eyes scanning frantically over the information contained. Slowly he raised his head, nervous smile apparent.

“I got an A,” He said, and within an instant the boys were on top of him, congratulating him with strong hugs or by clapping him on the back. James grabbed both of his cheeks, pressing them together and pushing a kiss onto Peter’s lips.

“Prongs!” Peter moaned, pushing his face away half-heartedly.

“I’m just proud of you, Wormtail,” He cooed, appearing much like his mother whom you all adored.

“Oi, Potter,” You interrupted, waving your sheet of results around. “I got an O in Potions — where’s my kiss?” James immediately broke your eye contact, and you pretended you weren’t charmed by his embarrassed little smile. He mumbled a response that had his friends ripping him to shreds, egging him on whilst simultaneously teasing him and his alleged manhood. He pressed a gentle peck to your forehead and you raised an eyebrow.

“Not what I meant, but ok.”

4. Regulus Black

Regulus Black had a difficult relationship with the Marauders, to say the very least. By his fifth year — the rest of the boys’ sixth — Sirius had been at the Potter’s for months and Regulus was still reeling from the impact. He was noticeably quieter and more sombre than in years previous, and a dangerous resentment for his brother and his friends bubbled under his skin.

James Potter connected these dots quickly. However, he didn’t really know what to do about it. He wasn’t sorry that Sirius was living with him, but he didn’t like that Regulus was left all alone with their wicked parents, regardless of their personal differences. That brought James to you.

You sat together on the couch, his head resting next to your thighs, curls just brushing against your skin in a way that you couldn’t stop thinking about. He was lamenting about his mental struggles as you worked on your crochet, thinking quietly as he rambled on.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” You asked suddenly, and James tilted his head to look up at you, holding back his laughter at your upside down appearance.

“What?” He asked, “I can’t talk to him, he hates me!”

“When has that ever stopped you before? Lily hates you and yet you bother her all the time,” You said, smile playing on your lips.

“That’s not true!” James protested, “I don’t bother her that much anymore!” You rolled your eyes playfully and turned back to your craft as James continued to ponder the situation.

As usual, he decided you were right. And so he sent a short letter to Regulus, asking for a meeting on the Astronomy tower at midnight. Surprisingly he’d agreed, and the two boys were standing awkwardly across each other on the tower. Regulus refused to start the conversation and so stood in silence, staring down James in an effort to scare him off. James wouldn’t be deterred.

“I just wanted to talk about what happened last year,” He said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose nervously.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“C’mon. I know we’re not friends, but I also figured none of your friends are the talking type either. So, I thought you could talk to me — full confidentiality. I don’t know, blame me, yell at me, I just don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

“How sweet, Potter,” He sneered, “But I don’t need to talk about any of my feelings.”

James Potter was nothing if not persistent.

“Ok, well if you don’t want to talk, how about you listen?” To his surprise, Regulus stayed. One perfect eyebrow raised, he slowly sat next to James, legs dangling over the edge of the tower. After a gesture for him to go on, James started. He began to talk about the process of having Sirius live with him, the feelings they both had about it, and the guilt they both felt about leaving Regulus alone. At that Regulus looked up, eyes pooling with hope.

Then without any warning, Regulus was talking more than James had ever heard before, spilling what he supposed must have been the younger boy’s darkest secrets and vulnerabilities. James was unprepared, not actually expecting him to engage. At one point James had put a comforting arm around Regulus’ shoulder, words failing to express any of the feelings he had inside. Regulus didn’t pull away as James expected, instead only starting to cry. James just watched in disbelief as Regulus cried into his chest. Awkwardly, James arranged himself to press a gentle kiss to Regulus’ forehead right as Regulus moved to look up and speak, resulting in a ridiculous kiss between the two of them.

They jumped apart in less than a second, both with horrified looks on their faces.

“Oh my God—”

“That was an accident I swear—”

“I’m really sorry—”

“I was just trying to comfort you—”

Both boys stumbled over their words as they clambered up to their feet, putting a strictly heterosexual amount of space between them.

“Um, I’m just gonna go,” Regulus settled on, backing up towards the door.

“I’m seriously sorry, Black. It’s just something I do — doesn’t usually backfire like that.” Regulus just nodded, leaving quickly.

“Potter?” He stopped halfway through the door and James looked up. “Thanks.” James didn’t get any time to reply as Regulus was long gone, leaving him to cringe on his own. Neither of them would be telling anybody about the incident. Ever.

5. Lily Evans

You and James had been doing your will-they-won’t-they thing for a long time. Not quite since you met, but once you’d both started to notice the opposite sex you’d been participating in a battle of who could resist the longest. Teasing and cajoling were staples of your relationship. Whilst it had started as a way to pass the time; James had been in love with Lily since second year and you just liked to tease, at some point the feelings crossed over into a real and dangerous territory. However, neither of you wanted to do anything in case the feelings weren’t reciprocated, and truthfully hadn’t realised the true depth of them.

You and James were the only ones not to see the obvious: the feelings were absolutely reciprocated. It was tearing your friends apart, trying to get one of you to finally confess before you finished school forever. There were bets in place, pep talks and everything else the Gryffindors could think of to finally cause the event they’d been hoping for. Eventually, Lily had had enough.

One day you were all hanging out in your dormitory, most of you doing your homework and Marlene fiddling with a record player, trying to get it to come back to life.

“So, what would you guys think if I gave James a chance?” Lily asked, too coy to be genuine, but you were caught off-guard enough that you didn’t notice. “I mean, I know I’ve said some terrible things over the years, but now that he’s backed off he’s actually a really nice guy.”

“But… James?” You asked incredulously, essay immediately forgotten.

“Yeah, why not? He’s the hottest guy in our year, and if all goes to shit it’s only a few months until we graduate and I’ll never have to see him again.”

“But it’s James!” The rest of the girls had caught on to what Lily was scheming and delighted in joining in.

“Why shouldn’t she? It’s not like you like him, right?” Mary asked, studying your expressions. You hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. And just when they thought Lily had finally succeeded in getting the ball rolling you answered: “No, of course not. You go ahead, Lils.”

What started as a ploy to get you to admit your feelings only snowballed from there when Lily realised she couldn’t just back out now. And so she hatched a plan. Everything was going perfectly; Sirius and Remus had made sure the common room was devoid of younger students so no unhelpful rumours could be spread, and Marlene had been hanging out with you all evening to make sure you stuck to the schedule she’d devised.

With perfect precision, you and Marlene entered through the portrait just as Lily came down from the dorms.

“Hey, Potter,” She called, and James looked up curiously from his game of wizard’s chess. The redhead marched over to him, cupping both of his cheeks and kissing him strongly. Your jaw dropped open. You couldn’t believe Lily was just going for it like that, but even more you couldn’t believe the sick feeling creeping up from your stomach. You looked at Marlene, who only looked marginally less shocked. A glance around the room proved similar. Although they all knew Lily’s plan, it was two entirely different things to hear about her scheme to get the two of you together and seeing Lily Evans kissing James Potter.

“I’ve, uh, gotta go,” You mumbled, somehow finding your footing to run from the room, desperate to get anywhere where you didn’t have to see that, and the subsequent (or so you believed) union of a happy couple.

Lily pulled away from the kiss, eyes immediately trying to find you and she was puzzled when she couldn’t. A look at Marlene told her all she needed to know and her heart sank; she’d failed. James was looking a little more dazed than the head girl, and suddenly looked terribly awkward in his seat.

“Look, Lils. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t feel that way about you anymore. There’s— there’s someone else, and I, I have to go.” With that James headed up to his dormitory, and the rest of your friends stood in a thick silence for several moments.

“I think I just made everything worse,” Lily said, and then the chaos started.

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen?” Sirius asked loudly, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“I don’t know! I just figured maybe they’d have an epiphany and both realise they’d rather be kissing each other!” Lily cried, throwing herself into an armchair.

You

Lily was right, she’d unintentionally made everything worse. You were upset at what you’d seen and the story you’d attributed to it, and even more so at your terribly timed realisation of your feelings. Because of this you’d started avoiding James in an effort to get over him, which only made you more miserable that you couldn’t talk to your favourite person. James, in turn, hadn’t seen you enter the common room on the night of the kiss and so believed —and dearly hoped — that you were blissfully ignorant, and so was equally perplexed and distraught at the space between you. He’d tried to approach you about it but you evaded him or turned him away every time.

“Hey, love, can we please—”

“It’s fine, James,” You interrupted him, “It was all just a bit of fun, right? All the flirting, the being touchy. But now you’re with Lily and I’ll back off, I get it, don’t worry. I wish you two every happiness.” You tried to sound as genuine as you could while sadness bit at your heart, and left James standing astounded in the corridor. Now he knew that you’d seen the kiss the issue was obvious, but the solution remained a mystery to him.

You’d taken to Marlene to get your feelings out, and she listened patiently as you rattled off a monologue about your childish jealousy and broken heart. Luckily, she’d discussed how to handle this with Lily — who knew you wouldn’t go to her because of her alleged involvement with James, and set off (hopefully) your friend’s last attempt to get you two together. She finally shook you out of it, frustrated with the lack of action.

“They’re not together,” She said, stopping you in your tracks.

“What?”

“They’re not together,” She repeated, making intense eye contact with you. “It was all this dumb plan Lily had to get the two of you together. She thought if you saw James getting with someone else you’d finally realise your feelings for him. And you did, but you were supposed to stick around to hear Potter reject her and say that he liked someone else, you.” You were shocked into silence, what could you say to that?

“So,” You started carefully, “What do I do now?”

James was in a similar situation with the boys.

“She saw Lily kiss me and now she thinks I like Lily when I like her! Plus, she won’t even be in my presence long enough for me to explain that it’s all just this huge misunderstanding and it’s her I want to be snogging!” James lay dramatically across his bed as the boys sighed.

“Prongs, isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asked and James cocked his head to the side, looking remarkably like a confused puppy. “Do something she can’t ignore. Make a grand gesture to prove your feelings for her.” James thought about it, it made sense. If you wouldn’t hear his explanation, he’d just have to make you.

“How?”

You and James went into the following Saturday with the same goal. It was Gryffindor’s quidditch semi-final, so there was a party being held whatever the outcome. It would be the first time you’d see each other since you’d realised your mistake since training was taking up all of James’ time.

Gryffindor had won, thankfully, which had both of you in higher spirits. The party was already in full swing by the time you got there, opting for a smoke first to calm your nerves. You’d spotted James almost as soon as you entered, always the heart and soul of a party. You marched towards him with a purpose, but as soon as he set eyes on you he jumped up to stand on a table. Someone had lowered the volume of the music — not silent, but low enough so you could hear him yelling over it. He said your full name, clearly and intentionally in a way that had surrounding people look at you curiously.

“I love you,” He said suddenly. “I am in love with you, not anyone else, and whatever made you think that’s not true was just a huge misunderstanding. Because I love you so much, and all I want to do is snog you until I’m the only name you remember, baby.” You let out a short laugh at his vulgarity and the cocky smirk that accompanied it, but a cheek-splitting smile won out when you thought about the preceding words and the sincerity he’d instilled in them. Before you even knew what you were doing you were racing towards him, gratefully taking Peter’s hand to join James on the table.

You honestly couldn’t tell who had initiated the kiss, but you were suddenly so intimately joined together it was like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs, compressing your body in an effort to fuse to his. His strong arms around you couldn’t shield you from the confetti being thrown around (for the match, of course, not just your kiss), nor the catcalls of your friends. You only pulled away when you felt James’ tongue start exploring a little too far, mindful that half the people you knew were watching. You wore matching grins as you parted, foreheads still pressed together and breathing heavy.

While it might have taken four years, innumerable (accidental) kisses and one failed set-up plan to get there, you were sure in your heart that James Potter was the only boy you ever wanted to kiss. And so you did, over and over for the years to come, and you cheered and applauded enthusiastically as the seemingly never ending list of friends and family told stories of receiving a coveted James Potter kiss throughout the years, knowing you were the only one who got to be his bride.

[g1rld1ary]

our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader

wc: 11,151

cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing

info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc

me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL

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"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"

If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.

"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.

"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.

You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.

He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.

The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.

"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.

"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."

"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.

You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.

"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"

"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.

Both men laughed at your plight.

"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.

"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.

"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.

James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."

James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.

James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.

You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.

Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.

You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.

Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.

"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.

"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.

"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."

"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.

"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.

"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.

A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.

That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.

When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.

"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.

"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.

"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.

When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.

"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).

"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.

You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.

"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.

"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.

You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.

Of course, nothing good lasts.

"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.

"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.

"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.

Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.

On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.

You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.

"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.

"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.

You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.

James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.

"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.

"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."

"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.

"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.

"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."

"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."

"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."

You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.

"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.

"Then sleep with me."

"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.

"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.

You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?

He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.

"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.

"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.

The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.

The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.

You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.

Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.

That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.

"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.

"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.

As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.

You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.

You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.

"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.

THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT

And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.

You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.

"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.

"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"

"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.

The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.

"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."

Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.

You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.

"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.

"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.

"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."

"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"

"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.

He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.

At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.

"Thought you hated her, mate."

"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."

"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.

"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.

He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.

His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.

"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.

He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.

Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.

Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).

Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.

You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.

The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.

The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.

You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.

"Hello?"

"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.

"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.

"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."

"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."

"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."

"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.

"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.

"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.

"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.

"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.

"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."

"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.

"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.

"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."

"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."

"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.

You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.

You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.

The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.

It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.

Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.

Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.

The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.

You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.

"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.

"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"

"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.

"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.

He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.

"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

"As if you read my pieces."

"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."

"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.

This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.

"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.

"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."

And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.

James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.

It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.

The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.

"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.

"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.

"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"

"But--"

"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."

"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.

You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.

In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.

As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.

thinking of u :P <3

You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.

Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.

First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.

The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.

The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.

"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.

FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL

Fuck. That could not be worse.

The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.

You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.

"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.

"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.

"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."

How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.

The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.

You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.

You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.

"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.

"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.

"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.

"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.

You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.

Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.

Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.

You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.

Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.

It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.

You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.

The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.

You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.

"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.

"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."

"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.

A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:

How a woman always loses.

You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.

When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.

"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.

"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.

"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."

"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.

"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.

"What about him?"

"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"

"Yet," Marlene interrupted.

"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.

"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."

"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."

You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.

The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.

Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.

On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.

It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.

On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.

Instead, it was actually Remus.

"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.

"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.

"Just do it. Two o'clock."

"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"

"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.

"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.

"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.

Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.

The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.

James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.

"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.

"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.

"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.

"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."

What the hell was happening?

"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.

"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."

Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.

"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.

"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"

The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.

You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.

The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.

"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.

"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"

"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.

"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"

"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."

You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.

"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"

You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.

When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.

The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.

You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.

Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james x reader

cw: reader is HORNY sorry guys (i'm on my period I can't be held accountable), swearing, excessive sexual innuendos, implied fem!reader but no pronouns I think

part 2

wc: 1055

you'd always been a strong swimmer, but merlin maybe you'd be ok with water in your lungs if the new lifeguard would put his mouth on yours to get it out. lily snorted when you voiced that thought, but you weren't going to apologise.

the new lifeguard was hot, and you were pretty sure it wasn't part-of-the-job-description-hot (though the swim shorts and seat up in the lifeguard's tower was certainly helping), he literally looked like a greek god, brown skin and dark inky curls that you wanted desperately to tug on. suddenly it wasn't just the pool that was wet...

the public pool was your staple with the girls, it had been since you were kids. it was pretty much the only way to stay cool in your shitty town, and the summers only seemed to get hotter as you got older. you'd never seen this boy before though, and you probably wouldn't be surprised if he'd literally descended down from heaven.

you tried to tune into their gossip, reaching for another ice lolly from the ice box, grinning when you got your favourite flavour. you nodded at whatever mary was saying about the party sirius was throwing in a few weeks; she had a new slinky dress she was dying to wear but was weighing up whether there were going to be enough fit boys there for it to be worth wearing. gazing across the pool distractedly, you happened to catch the lifeguard's eye, rolling your eyes when he sent you a cheeky wink. so he knows he's hot you thought, shifting your weight in the beach chair.

you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of openly ogling him, sliding the oversized sunglasses down your face until he couldn't see your eyes, contributing your thoughts on mary's plight.

when you caught the lifeguard stealing glances at you you couldn't help your delight, satisfied it wasn't a one-way attraction. plus, it was summer, you could afford to have some fun. you sucked on your ice lolly, loving the way his eyes kept darting back between you and the swimmers he was supposed to be watching. when you were sure you had his attention you let the treat sit on your lips, accidentally letting a few droplets of syrup roll down your chin, continuing their journey down your chest and beneath your bikini top.

at the boy's bright red flush you couldn't contain a smirk, loving the way it contrasted with his deep tan. by now your friends had caught on to your little show, all giggling as they watched teenage sexual frustration in action.

"you are such a slag," marlene scoffed, but you could see her amused smile behind it. you just shrugged, continuing to command the boy's attention with the popsicle. none of the boys you knew were half decent compared to the mysterious new lifeguard, why shouldn't you give him a proper welcome to town?

the fuss had died down after a while, all four of you quietening down as you tanned. you were almost drifting off into a sun-induced sleep when an unfamiliar voice spoke from near the pool.

"are all the girls around here this fit, or did I just get lucky?" you cracked one eye open to see the lifeguard standing between your four deck chairs, but his eyes were locked on yours. a glance to your right showed the rest of your friends sitting up to greet him, giggling in the way you all knew was because he was totally fit.

"does that usually work?" lily asked and you snorted a laugh, lying back down to continue your tan (and maybe so he got a good view of your underboob).

"it's never hurt," the boy said, surprisingly good-natured.

"where did you come from?" mary redirected, and you listened with interest despite your appearance.

"i'm from up north. my family just moved here and I already had the qualification, so I figured it wouldn't be a bad way to spend the summer while I had no friends." your friends made a noise at that, asking more questions about him. you were surprised at his seemingly honest friendliness, most of the guys you knew would rather die than come off dorky and friendless, but when it was this boy it seemed endearing.

"i'm james, by the way," he said, and the girls all introduced themselves as you remained silent, content to listen and lay in the sun.

as late afternoon sun began to run low you started to pack your things, dazed and content from your sunbathing. you made quiet conversation with lily about dinner plans, pulling up your denim cutoffs around your hips.

james caught up to your group as you were leaving the public pool.

"it was nice meeting you girls today, will I see you around more often this summer?" mary answered for the lot of you, confirming you visited more often than not on hot days.

"shit else to do," you added with a small laugh.

"i didn't catch your name?" james replied, leaning against the wire fence, giving you ample opportunity to admire the way his bicep flexed under his weight. were your knees weak or did you have sunstroke?

"i didn't throw it." a smile played on your lips, and your periphery caught lily turning to leave, knowing your game too well. james looked genuinely shocked for a fleeting moment, then covered it with a playful groan, miming a knife twisting in his stomach.

"you wound me!" he cried, "i burn, i pine, i perish!"

"alright there, shakespeare," you laughed, somewhat put off by the reference, but not deterred -- you could do brains, "you heard mary, you'll see me around. guess you'll just have to earn it." james brightened at that, the thought of a challenge evidently exciting him.

"oh sweetheart, just wait till you're riding my surfboard."

"that was horrendous," you said, fighting embarrassingly hard to keep from smiling.

"oh come on," he grinned, running a hand through his mop of curls, "not worthy of your name?"

"not a chance in hell." you gave him one last look over -- something he was positively delighted about -- before turning on your heel to catch up with your friends, brushing off their teasing as you thought of the hot new lifeguard you'd be visiting the pool for.

ok im lowkey obsessed with lifeguard!james rn so if u have any requests please send them over bc I would love to write more for him

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!James Potter but its just him shamelessly flirting with reader whilst she stands there stunned.

lifeguard!james potter x reader 4

prev

wc: 1874

cw: horny again

anon i love you ur a genius. this kinda ran away from me lol but i will def be using this again so look out for future parts of flustered r if this isn't quite what u meant!!

the next time you saw james wasn't for a few days. there'd been a few days of colder wind coming from the north -- not enough to be cold necessarily, but unpleasant enough you didn't particularly fancy sitting by the pool.

after two days of mediocre, sunless weather, a real storm came in. rain beating down from the time you woke up, you spent breakfast pondering how to spend the day. you didn't particularly want to spend the whole day rotting away in bed doing nothing and so called up marlene, begging her to pick you up in her parent's car to drive everyone to the shopping village. she was easy to convince, and soon enough you were all packed into the much too small car, singing loudly to the songs on the radio.

the village wasn't anything special, most of the stores were uninteresting, but it was all undercover which was ideal for a rainy day.

the group of you had already wasted an hour in the oxfam, trying on the most ridiculous outfits you could put together. sirius had even managed to turn a truly hideous cheetah print belt into something that looked honestly cool on him, much to the annoyance of everyone else. he tended to do that, though, it meant you had to work even harder to give him awful clothing items. the only one he truly couldn't pull off was a horrendous orange hand-knitted cardigan.

that easily became boring though, and you could tell the cashier was getting annoyed that clearly none of you intended to buy anything. so you left, wandering aimlessly until lily pulled you all into the bookstore. it was warm inside so no one put up much of a fight, splitting up to find their preferred genre. peter went to the historical fiction, lily to literary fiction, remus dragged sirius with him to the classics, marlene to science fiction and mary to fantasy. that left you to wander over to the romances. you weren't much of a reader, preferring the lighter subjects to lily's more serious.

finding the brightly coloured covers you began browsing before catching a glimpse of a mop of dark curls over the next shelf and narrowed your eyes suspiciously. there was no way...

"are you following me?" you asked, no edge in your tone. james looked up with a start, breaking into one of his golden retriever smiles.

"you're the one approaching me," he said, closing the book he'd been checking out.

"touché." you grinned, looking around for the first time to observe what section you were in -- plays. "i didn't know you were a shakespeare nerd under all that muscle. doesn't seem fair you get brains and brawn."

"graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie." james looked much too pleased with himself and his shakespeare quotes, and you couldn't deny it was having some effect on your own 'pleasant fountain'. you stammered for a moment, lost for a response. no boy had ever quoted shakespeare to you before, and certainly not of such explicit content. truthfully, you didn't realise the world's most revered playwright wrote like that.

"what's that from?" you asked, desperate to get away from his innuendos before you did something you'd regret. plus, you really were curious, the only shakespeare you knew was from when you studied romeo and juliet in year nine and clearly that was becoming insufficient.

"venus and adonis, one of his poems. doesn't continue as happily, but i thought the line was nice enough."

"yeah," you managed through gritted teeth, "really nice." james only laughed at you, evidently enjoying having the upper hand in your banter. it was a testament to his goodness, though, that he didn't continue to hold it against you. instead, he settled down, going back to browsing and letting you hover next to him, answering whatever questions you had about the plays patiently. it was nice, you realised, looking over at him fondly before you caught yourself. you barely knew james, and just because he was a pretty face and a decent brain didn't mean you had to go boy crazy.

you stayed there for what felt like ages, quietly looking at the books until sirius came strutting around the corner.

"since when have you ever read a play in your life -- oh," he said, catching sight of james next to you. "who's this?" you could have sworn sirius gave him a flirty once over, but maybe you were just projecting.

"this is--"

"james," he finished, sticking out an enthusiastic hand. sirius raised an eyebrow, a flicker of recognition in his eye that made your stomach drop.

"james the lifeguard? the one you thought was, and i quote, 'hotter than robert plant i swear to god' and who you would 'pay to suck his dick'? nice to meet you mate!" you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole as the boys shook hands, james looking significantly more confused than sirius (though not displeased).

"i hope you sleep with one eye open, black," you muttered, trying desperately not to make eye contact with either or let your blush show. you had an inkling you were failing.

"so james, you doing anything today?" sirius asked, and you could only feel the dread spreading throughout your body. james shook his head, quickly slotting the book he was holding back onto the shelf. when sirius invited him to spend the rest of the day with your friends your body had a physical reaction, an embarrassing half-flinch-half-jump that had both boys laughing at you.

you all reconvened outside the bookshop, only a few new books bought between you all. james had been introduced to remus and peter and the girls were all pleased to see him. it seemed like it was only you who was flustered, which seemed to be more common each time you saw him. you missed the first time you spoke when you had all the power.

sirius was the one who dragged you all to the record store, begging to check out their new stock.

"you know," james said as the two of you fell behind, "if you wanted to suck my dick you could've just asked, no payment required." this had to be the worst day of your life. you couldn't bear to look at james, already knowing the shit-eating grin you'd be met with.

"shut up," you mumbled weakly, "sirius is a dreadful dramatic."

he thankfully gave you a bit of a rest in the record store, taking the opportunity to talk to the boys as they perused the albums on offer. you definitely heard james and remus bonding over a love of bowie (not that it was a particularly niche interest) which made you smile.

while you were sure peter was being kind to james to his face, every time he turned away to look at something peter was quick to tease you, fanning his face like james was a supermodel or imitating a crude makeout. you responded with a firm middle finger, but it held no effect.

"i love that album," you said, pointing at the one james had picked up. it was bruce springsteen's born to run, a record you played in your room on repeat.

"i'm stupidly uneducated, i think i've only heard the singles. maybe we can listen to it together sometime, you can teach me his ways." you grinned, honest james was much easier to handle than flirty james.

"only if you're ready to listen to me fantasise about bruce," you said, "his eyes really do something for me."

"i have eyes," james said, pulling a giggle from both you and mary.

"guess so." it wasn't one of his better attempts at flirting, but it still drew a smile from you, so james didn't look too upset.

you didn't really talk to him again until you'd retired to the food court, all desperate for lunch. sirius had made sure you two were seated together, and you were suspicious of how much of a matchmaker he was being. you only wanted to jump his bones, you weren't looking to get married.

you'd just told an impeccable pun -- you knew it was good as the whole table began berating you -- and had caught james' eye by accident. he'd smiled at you in his lopsided way and rolled his eyes light-heartedly.

"i didn't picture you to have such terrible taste in jokes," he said, and you exaggerated a frown.

"and yet you're still talking to me," you countered, "so what does that say about you?"

"that i'm lucky." your mouth dropped open without your brain consenting. james had well and truly caught you off guard, an irritatingly perfect combination of earnestness and shameless flirting all rolled into one. you could feel yourself floundering, mouth opening and closing as you searched for anything to say. james was clearly enjoying his victory, cocky grin on display for anyone to witness. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, flushed with embarrassment (and lust) and not a single inkling of thought in your head.

you'd ended up on james' lap. it started with marlene offering james a lift home, not wanting to leave him walking in the rain. that led to the realisation you had far too many friends for seats; five available in the car and eight people. sirius had dibs-d remus' lap before the rest of you had even caught up to his train of thought, and lily and mary teamed up together shortly after. you were consequently assigned to james by the others, marlene obviously driving and peter refusing to even take part. you had sympathy for james, only an hour or two into meeting half the group and already pushed into doing their bidding because of remus' easy "you don't mind, do you, mate?"

and so you were sitting on his lap, not uncomfortable but definitely nervous. you'd imagined your first time being in his lap being slightly more sexy and autonomous.

"i'm not too heavy, am i?" you asked, hating how insecure you sounded. james just laughed softly.

"weren't you the one pining after my muscles? have a little faith in me!" james was unbelievably confident today, even more so than you remember him being in your previous meetings. you were the opposite, never having felt so meek around him.

you figured you couldn't be the only one experiencing the torture and so rolled the window down, pushing your upper half out and into the wind, laughing as you felt the rain on your skin. whilst enjoyable for yourself, it also required you to shift your position on james' lap and stretch out your torso, giving james a good view of your bra from under your sloppily done, homemade crop top. the combination was clearly effective if the development in his crotch was anything to go off. plus the way he held your hips to keep you concealing his little problem was telling you all you needed to know. another little wiggle from you and his grip tightened to almost bruising, but far from unpleasant. maybe james could flirt, but you had tricks you weren't above using.

[g1rld1ary]

unlucky ; luke castellan x reader

➻ synopsis: when clarisse mixes up her days, her physio appointment clashes with the exam she was supposed to drive you to. lucky for you, she's got a friend who owes her a favour

➻ word count: 2570

➻ content: swearing, anxious!reader, fluff

➻ not sure how i feel about this but it is written which is more than I can say about all my other wips so...

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were going to ace your exam. There was no other option, you’d prepared for everything. Your flash cards were colour coded and worn thin from revision, your cheap printer had basically had a fit from how many practise questions you’d printed out, and your whiteboard was crammed with revision notes. There was no way you were going to do anything less than stellar, you’d planned out every last detail of the day.

“What do you mean your exam is today?” Clarisse asked you as you stood in front of her, fully dressed and bag all packed. You hadn’t planned on this.

“Clar, it’s Wednesday. My exam is on Wednesday. I need you to drive me or I won’t get there.”

“Oh, Gods. Dude, I totally mixed up the days, I can’t drive you, I’ve got that physio appointment I told you about, the one that has a five month waitlist. I’m so sorry,” Your roommate groaned and you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. The Ubers around were hopeless, cancelling at the last minute and never actually picking you up — and it wasn’t you, your rating was perfectly high, for the record.

“Fuck,” You both cursed as you tried to figure out a solution. You wanted to be angry at Clarisse, but you knew you couldn’t. It was an honest mistake on her part, and she had to go to her appointment if she wanted to have any shot of getting back into the boat next semester and retain her rowing scholarship. Mostly you were mad at yourself that you didn’t have any backup plans, especially since you always had at least two. You were about to give up and start running across the city to try and make it in time when Clarisse’s eyes lit up, snapping her fingers excitedly.

“I’ve got it: I have a friend who I know for a fact won’t be doing anything right now and owes me a favour. I can get him to drive you?” You hesitated. On the one hand, Clarisse’s friend was probably the only way you were going to get to your exam punctually, but on the other, being in a car with some stranger would drastically heighten your anxiety and throw off all of your routines. With one more moment of thought you swallowed your nerves and nodded yes. Clarisse got on her phone, hurriedly dialling her friend. You watched in uneasy anticipation as she argued with the boy, referencing a myriad of situations you knew nothing about, clearly emphasising how much he owed her. You bit back a smile at that, Clarisse would always keep tabs on who owed her.

Finally she nodded at you and you couldn’t contain your grin. As much as the thought of navigating city traffic with a strange boy made your stomach churn — and not in the good way — your anxiety was completely outweighed by your desperation to get to your exam.

Waiting for him to arrive was a whole different story. Clarisse’s appointment was earlier than yours and so you had to wait on your own, frantically going over your notes again as you sat on the stoop of your apartment building, converse grinding into the concrete anxiously. To his credit, it wasn’t long before he pulled up, pulling into the parking space in front of you far too fast for your liking.

You observed the car skeptically. You didn’t want to judge when he was doing you such a big favour, but it was an integral part of you. The car was old and a bit worn down, but not so much in a ‘the owner’s a slob’ kind of way, more that you could tell it was well loved and had had its share of adventures. You could say the same for the boy inside it. He was beautiful, but you could tell he wasn’t really the type to think about his appearance too much. His shirt was clearly well loved, worn slightly thin from use, and he had a thin scar running down his cheek from his eye. You tried to smile sociably as you climbed in the passenger seat.

“Hi,” You said, introducing yourself quietly as you gripped your notes tightly.

“I’m Luke,” He replied, shooting you a quick smile.

The two of you sat awkwardly for a while, conversation at an uneasy halt. Luke had asked you a few polite questions, but your growing anxiety over the exam made it hard for you to think. At least until Luke had the bright idea of bringing up your roommate.

“So, how do you know Clarisse?” He asked, and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips.

“She’s my best friend!” You grinned, “We were assigned to be roommates in freshman year and ended up getting along surprisingly well for, well, the type of people we are. When it was time to move out of the dorms and get an apartment together, it just seemed natural that we’d continue to live together. You must be part of her other friendship group, then?” Luke was glad you’d started to come out of your shell, the chatty version of you that Clarisse had inspired made the battle against traffic much more bearable.

“Yeah, we all met through the sports program. I was kind of a package deal with Chris, so when they got together she got the blessing of hanging out with me too,” He joked, “How come we’ve never met? I know Chris tells her to bring you all the time.” Your cheeks flushed at being caught out avoiding the group.

“I’m not really good at talking to people, I feel so awkward. Plus I need to study, I don’t have the fallback of sport that Clar does. The times that she’s hosted have been actual coincidences though! I was visiting family the last time you all came to the apartment — promise I’m not actively avoiding you all.” Luke smiled at your bashful expression, tapping along light-heartedly to whatever grunge rock he had playing.

You conversed more easily for a while, you wanted to learn more about him, and Luke was a good conversationalist. He talked about his course in a way which interested you like it never had before. You didn’t think it was possible for economics to sound so fun. Whilst it took your mind off the exam for a while, Luke returning the questions about your major made your anxiety return tenfold, foot beginning to tap incessantly.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I go over some of my flashcards just before we get to campus?” Luke agreed of course, piping in with questions to make you expand on what you’d learnt. It was irritating, but only because you knew it was a brilliant way to revise.

You hadn’t expected Luke to be so helpful or so amiable. Although they’d been friends for a year or two, Clarisse rarely mentioned him. Usually the focus of her tales were Chris or Silena, Luke usually featured as the poor boy making a fool of himself through one stupid act or another. Maybe you really would start going out with them if all Clarisse’s friends were so nice.

The closer you got to your exam hall, the quicker you started speaking, words tumbling out so fast Luke could hardly understand them. You were whipping yourself up into a frenzy, and the boy next to you did not know what to do. None of his friends ever got this concerned about their academics, and he had little practice in comforting anxious girls.

When he pulled up to a parking space, you were borderline hyperventilating, shaking hands making the cue cards threaten to spill everywhere. Despite all this, you forced yourself to stop for a moment, making yourself connect your eyes with Luke’s.

“Thank you,” You said, voice surprisingly steady given the moments prior. Luke was admittedly slightly taken aback, but brushed it off much too casually. You weren’t so easily deterred.

“Seriously! You picked up a neurotic girl you don’t know with literally five minutes warning. You let me talk your ear off and basically saved my grade. You’ve got to at least let me, like, get you dinner sometime.” Luke looked like he was gonna argue with your praise but thought better of it, simply shrugging and revealing a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hopped out of the car, pulling your arms around yourself tightly as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the exam ahead. When you heard your name being called you turned back curiously, to be met with Luke sticking his head out of his passenger side window — how tall was this boy?

“Good luck!” He yelled, cheeky grin on his face. You gave an exaggerated huff, smile creeping onto your face despite your unease. You rolled your eyes, waving goodbye before rushing into the hall, running to catch up with one of the girls you knew from class. Luke smiled, laughing to himself as he pulled out of the park.

The exam was awful. Like, dogshit terrible. Hot flushes of embarrassment shot up from your toes, burning tears sitting in your lash line as you made inane complaints to some of your friends from your cohort, hoping desperately they couldn’t tell how devastated you were.

It all just felt like a waste. After all that revision, sleepless nights and study groups with people you didn’t even really like, the exam was still awful, and you were one more minor inconvenience from a full-blown meltdown. You said goodbye to your friends, and there came the inconvenience: with all the anticipation of getting to the exam, you’d forgotten to figure out how you were getting home.

God you wished you had your license. Or adequate public transport. Before you could talk yourself down from a frenzy you were crying, and sat yourself down on the steps outside the exam hall for a private moment.

The honking of a car made you look up, and the sight of Luke’s old Toyota had your tears turning to ones of relief. You sprung out of your seat, wiping your tears hurriedly as you practically skipped over to his car.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but laugh, embarrassed at your dramatics.

“Couldn’t let the academic weapon walk home across the city all alone could I?” You shook your head enthusiastically, smile erupting on your face as you hopped into the passenger seat.

You sat in somewhat awkward silence as Luke began the drive. Whilst you weren’t still actively crying, it was excessively obvious that you were distraught. Luke didn’t know what to do or how to comfort you, but he was never one to stop trying.

“You know what the best thing about Chris being pre-med is?” He said, and you looked up curiously at the random topic. You shrugged, using the mirror attached to the sun visor to wipe away some of your smudged mascara. “I now know for a fact that chocolate makes serotonin, and that makes you happy. So what d’you say we go get some ice cream?”

Luke took you to an adorable little ice cream parlour a few blocks from campus and bought you both cups of chocolate ice cream, calmly ignoring your protests. Sitting in a booth together it was remarkable how quickly your mood had shifted. Luke was shockingly charming, and seemingly knew exactly what to say to get you to open up, and before long you were chatting as if you’d been friends for years.

He told you dozens of stories of his and Clarisse’s friendship group, recounting all the wild nights and stupid adventures they’d had. You loved it, you’d heard most of them from your flatmate but an alternate perspective made you cackle all over again.

“How did you know when my exam finished? It was three hours long,” You said when there was a lull in conversation. Luke looked uncharacteristically bashful, suddenly avoiding eye contact with you and focusing intently on his ice cream.

“I’ve just been hanging on campus,” He confessed, “I took a lap at five past the hour to try and catch you.” You couldn’t help your grin.

“You are such a softie!” You squealed, shoving his shoulder lightly. He shook his head aggressively but you could have sworn that the Luke Castellan was blushing.

It wasn’t long before Luke was driving you home, the two of you scream singing to Kelly Clarkson (you’d taken over the aux, but Luke didn’t seem to mind that much). You felt a little betrayed that Clarisse had been friends with him for so long and yet you’d never crossed paths. You also wondered how you’d never noticed how hot the guy in all of her Instagram posts was, but that was neither here nor there.

As you pulled up in front of your apartment building you almost felt sad, but for a completely different reason than you were an hour before. All thoughts of your shit exam were gone, replaced by thoughts of Luke and the lightness in your chest he’d caused.

You sat in the car together, clearly hesitant to go. Finally, you knew you had to leave and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” He said. You stopped. “Our group is going for dinner tomorrow night, uh, you should come. If you want.” Luke was looking anywhere but at you, and you felt your beam even if he couldn’t see it (he could, but for his sanity he was trying really hard to pretend he didn’t).

“Yeah,” You replied breathily, “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” You thanked him again for the lift and the ice cream before hopping up the steps into your apartment. Neither of you could control your giddy grins for an embarrassing amount of time.

When Clarisse got home that evening she was all apologies for her mix up, but when you of all people brushed off her disorganisation she figured something was up.

“So, how was Luke? Not too scary?” She asked as you both sat on the couch, Love Island rerun playing. You tried to answer noncommittally, eyes locked on the screen.

“He was nice,” You said, immediately forcing a laugh at whatever bullshit one of the boys in the villa had said. You could feel Clarisse eyeing you suspiciously, you would never be so vague — especially not when today was such a huge deal for you. Nevertheless she hummed in agreement, sparking a plan in her head.

“Hey, so the group are going to dinner tomorrow, you should come. It’ll be me, Chris, Silena, maybe a few others. Luke’ll be there too, I think.” She feigned innocence, counting them out on her fingers.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll be there,” You replied, trying to play it cool despite never having once agreed to go out with her friends. Clarisse’s raised eyebrow told you all you needed to know about your acting.

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me ; luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: charles beckendorf wants to go out with silena beauregard more than anything. one problem: she's not allowed to date until her shrewish older sister does, so he and percy come up with a plan. (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 2783

➻ warnings: swearing ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader

➻ this'll be a few chapter so this is p1!!!

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Charles Beckendorf arrived at Camp Half-Blood when he was fifteen years old. It was a wonder he’d lasted out in the mortal world so long with his significant stature, height enough to attract monsters, but Percy — his tour guide — guessed it was probably his more reserved nature which had kept him under the radar.

“Thank God it’s you showing me around,” Was one of the first things he’d said, “When you start things like this it’s usually all the kiss-asses that greet me.” With six schools under his belt, Percy knew what he meant all too well.

“Nah man, we’re chill. And if we get this done quick then you can meet my friends, we know how to have the real fun here.”

And so they embarked on their tour, Percy dutifully pointing out all the most important places around camp. First was the Dining Pavilion, where they met Grover as he chewed on some of the tin-can remains of lunch. Then came Thalia’s Tree, under which Annabeth was drawing out a map that Charles didn’t understand in the slightest but Percy explained was a strategy for capture the flag. After that they walked past the sword fighting arena, where they caught a glimpse of Luke in the middle of a fierce duel. They both passed quickly, and Charles got the distinct impression that you weren’t supposed to interrupt Luke when he was fighting.

As the two got to the lake, Percy explaining it was where most people hung out when they had the time, Charles faltered in his steps. Percy looked back to where he was frozen and followed his sightline to Silena Beauregard and rolled his eyes.

“Who is that?” He breathed.

“Don’t even bother, bro,” Percy replied. “She’s off limits. It’s a well known fact that the Beauregard sisters aren’t allowed to date — they’re only here over the summers and their dad is crazy strict about it for some reason.”

“But she’s so—”

“Self-centred? Shallow? Silena is all looks no substance, dude. You can do better.” Percy ushered him away but Charles was still daydreaming about the beautiful Aphrodite girl.

The tour was just finishing up by the Climbing Wall when they first saw you. You held the camp record for it, and so had been delegated the responsibility of teaching the younger kids. Today though you’d had to rescue a cocky bastard from getting obliterated by lava, singeing the fabric of your camp shirt all over your left shoulder, and you were not in a good mood.

Just wanting to get back to your cabin for a change of clothes and some ambrosia, you were certainly not in the state of mind to stop and chat with a new camper. So when Percy and Charles came along blocking the whole fucking path, you didn’t hesitate to yell “Move!” Pushing past them in a huff. You wouldn’t usually be so rude, but you were pretty sure your shirt was fusing into your skin which was so not what you needed. Plus, they were in the way. Beckendorf’s bicep was warm from where you’d shoulder-checked him with your injury.

“That’s your dream girl’s older sister,” Percy snorted, used to your disagreeable personality.

“That’s Silena’s sister?” Charles asked incredulously, “But she’s…”

“A shrew? Yeah. I’d watch out for her, and kiss your dreams of going out with Silena goodbye. Now c’mon, I’ll show you to your cabin.” Charles followed mindlessly, still thinking about the two Beauregard sisters.

When people thought of you, the consensus was pretty much this: Silena Beauregard’s older sister, and the most heinous bitch at Camp Half-Blood, a title you were extremely proud of. Whilst you really didn’t think you were that bad — in fact, you considered your actions quite reasonable — younger campers cowered away when you marched through camp and the older ones rolled their eyes when you spoke. Just the way you liked it. It wasn’t exactly unusual, camp had all sorts of kids living there, not everyone was going to get along, but it was pretty unexpected for you as a daughter of Aphrodite.

You didn’t get along with most of your siblings, despite all your efforts as one of the elder campers. You thought it was ridiculous that they wouldn’t participate in camp activities, regardless of the reason. What good was having all that beauty if it was wiped off the face of the earth by a monster? There were a hundred rumours flying about to explain you and your attitude, the most popular being that you were the secret lovechild of Aphrodite and Ares, which explained your affinity for fighting and permanent bitch face. You knew better. For one you shared too many of your dad’s traits not to be his child. Plus, Aphrodite had a long history of being associated with war in Ancient Greece which everyone at camp just conveniently forgot in favour of writing her children off as useless and vain. You hated it, and you refused to be who they wanted.

Even your favourite sibling was the polar opposite to you. Silena was a few years younger than you, and by all accounts was the model of a perfect Aphrodite child. Gorgeous, of course, and usually kind and patient. In your opinion, she was kind of annoying and self-absorbed, but you chose to believe she meant well so you could keep tolerating her. You didn’t know how the only two blood-related siblings in your cabin could be so different from one another, but it had been that way since you were fourteen and she was twelve.

You had made it back to your cabin, and your shoulder was all bandaged up after your shower. You were just flipping through The Bell Jar, your latest novel, when Silena came stomping into the cabin, waving a letter frantically through the air. You could assume what it was about.

“This is so unfair!” Silena whined, “Daddy doesn’t even know Ethan!” Ethan was the new boy Silena had been obsessed with recently, writing incessantly to your father in an attempt to get him to take back the no dating rule.

“What, can’t go swap spit with the vermin of the earth?” You exaggerated a pout. She sneered at you in the mirror.

“Worse. Now he’s saying I can’t date until you do, so now I’m going to die a stupid old virgin because of you!” You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Have you ever considered there’s more to life than finding a boyfriend? Or, big shock I know, maybe I’m just not interested in the sweaty, uninspired pigs that are supplied here?”

“You suck!” She huffed, turning on a kitten heel and barging out of the cabin.

“You suck!” You mocked, turning back to your book. You knew Silena was really pissed at you for being so stubborn, but you hated the thought of changing your opinions over a man of all things.

Silena, in her frustration, was wandering around Camp Half-Blood to let off some steam. Charles, fresh from a kayaking lesson, spotted her across the beach and scrambled to catch up to her. Remembering what Percy told him about her not participating in many of the camp’s activities, he came up with the idea to offer his help to finish a project in the forges to get Chiron off her back. Silena seemed surprised but happy enough to agree, and Charles was ecstatic.

“She’s agreed to go to the forges with me!” He told Percy excitedly, and Percy raised an eyebrow.

“Do you even know how to weld?”

“Well, no, but I will!” As much as Percy liked the new kid, he was definitely a handful.

Charles’ first session with Silena didn’t go exactly as he’d hoped. She showed up already looking bored, and not keen to start off with a simple sword as he’d proposed. Soon he gave up with any welding, choosing instead to try and get her know better.

“If you’re not really into this we could try something else? I saw someone welding some metal flowers, you know, for like a date?” That caught her attention.

“Are you asking me on a date?” At his shy nod Silena couldn’t contain her slight laugh. “That is so cute! What’s your name again?” Charles told her quietly.

“Well, my Dad’s just changed our family rule — I can date when my sister does.”

“That’s great! So all you’ve gotta do is find someone who’ll date her!”

“One problem, Cameron-”

“Charles.”

“My sister is, like, totally antisocial?”

“Yeah, but people jump out of planes and stuff all the time! It could be, like, extreme dating!”

They both looked across the forge where you were working, fixing up your favourite sword after an Ares kid had done quite a number on it. You had on both your signature outfit and expression — long, practical jorts with your camp shirt tied in a knot and a dangerous bitch face.

“The oversized look is out, Beauregard, didn’t you read last month’s Vogue?” Ethan was hovering around you, trying his hardest to get a rise out of you in front of his friends.

“Run along, dickwad.” You refused to blow up at him, knowing it would only be used to make you look hysterical and unbalanced later. Plus, Ethan would get bored sooner or later and find someone else to taunt.

As Charles recounted this story to Percy later that night at the bonfire, all Percy could do was groan.

“Charles — Charlie — I really wanna like you, man, but this is probably the most stupid thing you could have done. I know they’re hot, but it’s not even worth getting involved with one Beauregard sister, and you’ve just gotten yourself tangled with both — and not in the way that most guys dream about.” Charles flushed at the innuendo.

“I think you’re wrong about Silena, I think she’s worth it. I just have to figure out how I can set her sister up with another guy.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Percy laughed, hitting Charles’ knee twice before turning away to talk to Annabeth. Charles spent the rest of the night trying to hatch a plan.

Early the next morning he got Percy on board, albeit very reluctantly. Percy brought Charles over to every single guy he could think of in your age range, begging them to take you out. The responses varied from a nervous shake of the head to Travis Stoll laughing in both boys’ faces.

“Why would I go looking for a kick in the balls?” He asked, still wheezing from his initial outburst.

They found themselves once again at the bonfire, both disheartened. Percy at having wasted a day all for this new guy he barely knew, and Charles that he was no closer to getting a date with Silena. Finally, somewhat eager to get this distraction over with, Percy came up with an idea.

“What about you just pay someone to go out with her?” He asked, and Charles considered the idea for a minute, it wasn’t half bad.

“I have literally no money,” He settled on finally, and Percy rolled his eyes.

“So you get someone else to do it for you,” He suggested, and Annabeth joined the conversation with suspicious interest.

“Like a backer?” She asked, at Percy’s nod she bit her lip, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, guys, it seems like it could really backfire on you. I mean, what if she finds out? I heard she once tied a camper to the lava wall just for looking at her wrong.”

“She won’t find out! I mean she only has to date so Silena can, it doesn’t have to be a long term thing. She goes on enough dates for it to qualify, then they break up while it’s still casual and I can go out with Silena!” Charles explained excitedly, but Annabeth still looked skeptical.

“Plus, if we have a backer, none of the blame will go to my man Charlie here,” Percy added helpfully, which swayed Annabeth a little.

“Okay, well be careful,” She said, leaving for the dining hall to be distanced from the plot.

Percy thought the answer to who the backer would be was pretty obvious. Whilst most of the boys at Camp Half-Blood wanted to sleep with Silena, Ethan White was both rich and desperate enough to agree to it. Plus when Percy Jackson was telling you you’d look great with a girl, you generally listened.

All that was left was to find someone to set you up with. The boys used the bonfire to scope out their options, but it wasn’t looking good. For one, you didn’t even show up to bonfires if you could help it, and it was anyone’s guess what you did instead. Rumours said blood sacrifices but Percy was almost completely sure that was a lie. Truthfully you were sitting up on the roof of the Aphrodite cabin, enjoying the peace and quiet of the camp when no one else was around.

They were about to give up, Percy trying to find the right words to let Beckendorf down easy, when they saw Luke. Luke, with his brooding eyes and his cigarette, sitting on his own at the bonfire with headphones connected to a mortal mp3 player. Luke, who had never quite been the same since he returned from his quest — rumours swirling about the horrors he’d faced that he refused to speak on.

“I think we’ve found our man.”

It was easy to convince Ethan to get on board, he was so overconfident in himself and his looks he would never suspect that Percy or Beckendorf had any ulterior motives. It was equally enjoyable to watch Ethan try and approach Luke to get the plan in motion. Percy and Beckendorf were sitting with Percy’s friends on the beach the very first time Ethan spoke to Luke. He was all macho confidence, still trying to play the tough guy. Luke looked up at him from his place sitting on a rock, barely moving his head to give him any attention. The moment of eye contact meant Ethan knew Luke had seen him speaking, and the abrupt walking away communicated his absolute lack of interest. It took a gargantuan effort from Percy not to burst out laughing then and there.

The second conversation went a bit smoother. Ethan had a metaphorical tail between his legs, temporarily giving up his ego to be the smaller person in the conversation. That got Luke’s attention, having known Ethan and his antics for years at that point. And then Ethan explained his plan. Luke couldn’t contain his laughter — a sound Camp Half-Blood was rarely graced with anymore.

“Yeah sure, Sparky,” He laughed, almost wheezing in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

“Look,” Ethan stressed, “I can’t take out Silena until her sister starts dating — their Dad is super strict and has this rule—”

“Touching story, not my problem.” Luke moved to put his earbud back in when Ethan stopped him.

“Could it be your problem if I provided generous compensation?” Luke had forgotten Ethan’s mother was filthy rich. He looked him dead in the eye.

“You’re going to pay me to take out some chick? How much?” He asked, entirely disbelieving.

“Twenty bucks” They both looked down at you on the volleyball courts, spiking a ball into a girl’s stomach with so much force she keeled over on the ground. You had the decency to look mildly apologetic while the opposing team glared at you.

“Fine. Thirty.”

“Let’s see,” Luke smiled something devious. “If I’m taking her out it means leaving camp. That’s a lot of risk I’m pursuing for you, plus the costs of taking to her somewhere — the movies maybe. And you know inflation lately, let’s say seventy-five bucks.”

“This isn’t a negotiation, burnout.”

“Fifty bucks and we’ve got a deal, Fabio,” Luke countered, knowing he had the upper hand. He had nothing to lose. Reluctantly, Ethan forked out a fifty. All that was left was for Luke to get you to go out with him, how hard could that be?

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part two

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; percy and beckendorf's plan to set you up with luke is in motion, but you're extremely resistant to any advances (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3462

➻ warnings: swearing, ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos

➻ thank u so much for all the love on part 1 I am such a happy gal!!!!! also, have my first day at uni tomorrow (so pls wish me luck) and sorry if updates slow down!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull

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It turned out that getting you to go out with Luke was harder than he’d originally anticipated. Eager for the whole ordeal to be over and for him to be 50 dollars richer, he’d hopped down from his spot on a fallen log and hurried to meet you by the volleyball courts when your match ended. You, unaware of Luke’s agenda, were fanning your face to combat some of the sweat that had accumulated, quickly tightening the messy ponytail you’d tied. Luke watched you in your own world, unbothered by anybody watching you, unlike the rest of your siblings. Sucking in a quick breath for confidence he approached you.

“Hey there, girly,” He smiled, “How’re you doing?” You looked up at him, inquisitive for a moment but ultimately unimpressed.

“Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?” You were barely looking at him, skulling an impressive amount of your water bottle quickly. He stared at you, not expecting to be dismissed so easily. He recovered smoothly, not prepared to give up so soon.

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?”

“My mission in life,” You shot him a cloying smile, now giving him your full attention, unable to help being slightly interested by his boldness. “But obviously I’ve struck your fancy, so you see it worked. The world makes sense again.” You‘d figured out his motives now and had no interest, so began the walk back to your cabin. He followed, much to your dismay. Couldn’t men ever take the hint?

“So I’ll pick you up Friday then?”

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.” You kept your eyes ahead, dodging a few younger kids as Luke trailed after you, annoyingly optimistic still.

“The night I take you places you’ve never been before,” He said, and you looked at him in disbelief. The ego on this kid!

“Right, like the makeout clearing in the forest? Do you even know my name, Castellan?” Luke could tell that you were mocking him, but he still had high hopes.

“I know a lot more than you think.” He smiled then, a lopsided thing that would have been somewhat charming if you’d actually bothered to look. Instead you were already walking away, calling out a “Doubtful. Very doubtful,” over your shoulder as you picked up into a run, presumably to go tell Clarisse about the bizarre experience you just had. Luke watched you go, dumbstruck in the middle of camp.

Percy and Beckendorf watched the exchange from the porch of the Hephaestus cabin, the latter putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“We’re screwed,” He groaned and Percy winced slightly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, dude. Luke has faced a lot worse than a teenage girl.”

When you sat at dinner that night, desperately avoiding the eye contact Luke seemed desperate on initiating, you almost told Silena about your bizarre day. You’d opened your mouth to start the story when you realised that she’d only be encouraged by Luke’s antics, pressuring you into going out with him for her own benefit and quickly shut it. She’d noticed your odd behaviour and searched for meaning in your face. Panicking for something to replace the conversation, you zeroed in on the necklace sitting nicely on top of her camp one.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” You asked, already dreading the answer. Silena only confirmed your fears, claiming them as your grandmother’s with a coy smile.

“So what? You’ve just been hiding them the last three years?” You were always closest with your grandmother, and you were sure she wouldn’t leave her favourite pearls for Silena over you.

“Daddy found them in a drawer just before summer.” Silena shrugged as if you weren’t sitting across from her, cheeks a blotchy red in your upset. “Besides, they look good on me.” Your hands itched to hit her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, knowing exactly how much she was pissing you off.

“Trust me, they don’t,” You spat, quietly glad when Silena stalked off in a huff, amongst the first to leave the meal. You didn’t know how much longer you could argue with her before starting to cry, which you really didn’t want to do in front of the whole camp. You thought you were safe for the rest of the meal when Drew began speaking instead.

“You could try being nice sometimes, you know, people wouldn’t know what to think.” You rolled your eyes aggressively.

“You forget, I don’t care what people think,” You replied, taking in a spoonful of food.

“Yes you do. Everyone does. You know, with a new look you could have some serious potential.” You ignored her last statement.

“No, I don’t,” You emphasised, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.” You knew that wouldn’t impact Drew in the slightest, but you hoped it might resonate with some of your younger siblings — encourage them to nurture their internal beauty rather than accept the vain stereotype Aphrodite children were forced into. You pushed yourself out of the bench you were sitting on, needing a break from your insufferable siblings. As you dumped your dishes where they needed to be you saw Luke beginning to follow you and turned to make dead eye contact. Knowing you’d only scream at him (or worse) you gave him a dangerous look, accompanied with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not enough for anyone else to know you’d even acknowledged him, but enough to tell Luke to back off. He was smarter than you thought, as he held up his hands in a show of surrender, redirecting his action to innocently collect up his own dishes.

You may not have had any interest in knowing the boy, but you did appreciate that he knew when to back off. Or so you thought.

You were proven not-so-free from Luke Castellan the very next morning. It was the Aphrodite cabin’s day to check all the storerooms, and you’d volunteered to do the one which held all the weapons and armour near the sword fighting arena. You knew none of your siblings would come near if they could help it, mostly against weapons and the violence that surrounded the area, so you’d get a whole morning alone. It was peaceful attending to the chore, and you were allowed to use some of your Aphrodite eye for beauty. Of course, stacks of swords and assorted weapons could only be made so pretty, but you enjoyed organising them into neat rows, making it look as nice as possible — not that you would admit that to Silena or you’d be in her vanity chair receiving an unwelcome makeover in seconds.

You were just admiring your own sword, which you’d taken the time to polish while you were taking care of the others, when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t react, assuming it was just some camper coming for a weapon, until he spoke.

“Nice sword, vintage hilt?” You tensed as Luke’s voice infiltrated your peace.

“Are you following me?” You disregarded his statement, an unimpressed frown present on your lips.

“I was training in the arena and needed to polish my sword. I saw you come in a while ago and not leave, I came to say hi,” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t friends, why would he come for a chat?

“Hi.” You promptly turned back to your task, shoving the cloth into the intricate designs of the hilt.

“Not a big talker, huh?” He persisted.

“Depends on the topic. My sword doesn’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.” That wasn’t strictly true — the sword was a gift from your mother, with gold twisting around a blood red ruby in the centre of the hilt. After you’d made it clear that you weren’t going to just sit around during your time at camp she gifted you the sword, her way of saying that if you were going to fight, you should at least look good doing it. You’d had several conversations with Clarisse gushing over the intricacy of it, and profusely thanked Aphrodite for the gift in your offerings. You didn’t quite care to share this with Luke, being a relative stranger.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked, and you were somewhat taken aback by the earnest tone of his voice.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that crept into your sentence.

“Most people are.” He gestured subtly towards his scar — gnarled and twisted against his otherwise tanned skin. You put a hand on your hip, resigned to conversation now.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Ok, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” You were pretty sure Luke was going for smooth or charming, but you thought in this moment he was entirely lame. The wink didn’t help his case.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” You put on your best Drew impression, nasally and whiny, before handing him the cloth he needed to polish his own sword and turning to leave. There, quickly approaching the door, was Ethan. Seeing you he put on a disgusting smirk and blocked the doorway, effectively caging you into the storeroom.

“Gods, what is it, asshole day?” You asked, not caring that both boys could very clearly hear you. “Do you mind?” You gestured to his blocking the exit. He simply looked down at you, clearly doing his best to appear sexy (and failing miserably).

“Not at all.” His stupid smirk was going to kill you, and not in the good way. You scoffed, giving him a last chance to get the fuck out of your way. Then, sparing a fraction of a glance back to Luke pretending to mind his own business, you slammed the hilt of your sword into his foot, wishing it was the blade instead. You watched him crumble to the ground, holding his foot with both hands.

“You bitch!” He yelled, voice cracking pathetically in the middle. You forced your smile to stay contained.

“Oops,” You feigned innocence, one hands covering your mouth strategically. “You might need some ambrosia for that…” With that you side-stepped him, eager to leave the situation. If you’d have looked back, you would have seen the gleeful, disbelieving smile on Luke’s face, probably the biggest one he’d worn in a while. Although he didn’t get the date he’d entered for, he was beginning to think you were a little more interesting than you let on.

“Did you just cripple Ethan?” Silena shrieked as you entered your cabin to grab your things. “He’s a model, you can’t do that! Has it escaped your notice that you’re completely psychotic?” You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Guess your long walks on the beach are gonna have to wait,” You sighed dramatically, leaving Silena to wallow in her pity alone. It wasn’t like it was really your fault — if Ethan had learned how to respond to words or learn the meaning of ‘move’ he wouldn’t have gotten himself into that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Luke were having a similarly emotional conversation after Luke had — very reluctantly — helped Ethan over to the infirmary to get his foot checked out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results.” Luke sighed, could this boy get any whinier?

“Yeah, I’m on it,” He said through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hurt him.

“Watching that bitch obliterate my foot doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get any, I don’t get any, so let’s get some,” Ethan said, running a hand through his ridiculously styled hair. Luke couldn’t believe his nerve. First of all, obliterated? He would be left with a bruise for a few days, if anything. Secondly, this whole things was Ethan’s idea, Luke had never given any indication wanting to ‘get some’, especially not with someone so clearly resisting his advances. Just as Ethan left, giving the Apollo girl treating him a douchebag smile, Luke hardened his resolve.

“I just upped my price,” He said, loving the way Ethan’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “A hundred bucks a date, in advance.”

“Forget it,” Ethan grumbled, moving to leave again.

“Forget her sister then.” The two boys stared at each other, one significantly more amused than the other. Luke knew he had the upper hand in the dynamic, something he revelled in. Then, after the intimidation tactic clearly wasn’t having any effect, Ethan reached for his wallet, Luke admiring the crisp fifty he was handed.

“You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Castellan.” Luke just watched him go, confident tilt of his head conveying his outlook on the situation.

Luke had taken his usual spot overseeing combat training, but his usual thoughts were long gone. Instead, he was entirely preoccupied with you. He didn’t know how to get you to go out with him when you could barely entertain a conversation, and he twirled his cigarette between his fingers as he pondered.

Percy and Beckendorf saw his internal conflicts, slowly moving closer to him under the guise of a very chaotic fight between the two. Finally Luke gave them attention, knowing Percy’s skills would never have him running all over the place like that. He raised an eyebrow, a sign for them to get on with whatever they were angling at.

“We know what you’re trying to do, for Beauregard,” Percy said, and Luke appeared almost startled.

“And we want to help,” Added Beckendorf helpfully, shying away when Luke’s eyes bore into his.

“And why would you do that?”

“Beckendorf here has a major crush on Silena—”

“Gods, what is it with this girl? Does she sweat nectar?” Beckendorf opened his mouth to protest when Percy spoke over him, knowing it would be more beneficial to let Luke lead.

“Look, I think we can both tell that Charlie’s love is pure, well-intentioned, better than, say, Ethan White?” Luke sighed, catching on.

“I’m in this for the cash, that’s it. Who Ethan wants to bang is of no interest to me.”

“There will be no banging!” Beckendorf cried as Percy pushed him behind. He was no use in a delicate situation like this.

“Ok, Luke, it’s just that we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing. We set it up so Beckendorf can get the girl — Ethan’s just a pawn.” Luke paid closer attention suddenly, intrigued by the chess match he’d been pulled into.

“So you two are gonna help me win her over?”

“We’ll do research, find out what she likes. We can be your guys on the inside.”

“In a strictly non-mission type of way,” Beckendorf added helpfully, nervous of the legends he’d heard about Luke’s failed quest. Luke chose to simply ignore that comment, and Percy filled the silence before he could get angry about it.

“Let’s just start here: the Apollo cabin is throwing a party on Friday night, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Was all Luke said, a clear signal the conversation was over. Percy and Beckendorf returned to fighting, slightly more regulated now they had gotten what they’d wanted, and Luke brought the cigarette back up to his lips, new thoughts clouding his mind.

Meanwhile, Ethan had found Silena where she was known to hang out by the rocks near the lake. He was hovering next to her, providing snatches of shade as he performed pose after pose, claiming he had a modelling job lined up when he left for the year.

“So which do you like better?” He asked, moving his hands fractionally to the left of his chin.

“The second,” Silena giggled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s more… pensive.”

“Damn,” Ethan kicked the sand softly. “I was going for thoughtful. So, you going to the Apollo party on Friday?”

“Maybe.” She produced her best coy smile, looking up at him from behind her lashes.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’ll only bother if you’re there.” Silena smiled, getting up from her spot on the rock.

“Bye.” Her voice was airy in the way she knew drove boys mad. She walked away leaving Ethan wanting more, her specialty. You scoffed, catching the end of the exchange. You and Silena made momentary eye contact, tension thick between the two of you.

As Beckendorf approached Silena, fishing for more information about you, Ethan had caught you in his sights and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

“You sister is so cute,” His voice infiltrated your bubble in a way that made you want to hit him so desperately. “Doesn’t have your bite though, a feisty woman is so sexy.” You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but it was so close to working.

“Come any closer and I’ll show you just how feisty I can get,” You snapped, braid almost whacking him in the face as you turned to face him. You could have sworn Ethan looked afraid for a second before he covered it with bravado.

“One day you’re gonna realise that all of this hostility is just your sexual repression. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be waiting with open arms… And legs.” You almost threw up.

“Gods, can’t you just leave me alone, asshole?” You yelled, trying to push past him to get anywhere else.

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” He whined, and you were really close to taking him to the ground — not in the way he wanted.

“You heard the girl,” A voice called from behind you, and instantly Ethan took a step back. “She wants you to leave her alone.” Luke appeared behind you, a respectful distance away whilst still making his intentions clear. Ethan shrunk back into himself, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, hurriedly fleeing the beach. Reluctantly, you turned to face Luke.

“I’m not going out with you just for that,” You said plainly, daring him to try again.

“You think that low of me?” He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. You forced yourself not to notice. “I don’t have to want something from you to know that Ethan White isn’t worth your time.” It was your turn to be embarrassed at that, feeling slightly narcissistic for assuming that was the purpose of the conversation (it was, but Luke sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin his chances because you were in a mood, justified or otherwise).

“Oh.” You stared at his shoes. “Well, thanks, I guess.” You moved to leave but Luke stopped you, hand not quite touching your arm, unwilling to have it bitten off.

“So you do have a heart!” He joked, signature grin on his face. You wondered why you were seeing so much of it lately when he’d been so dour since his quest.

“Ha! You wish.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Beauregard, you’re warming up to me.”

“I’d sooner fuck Mister D,” You replied, actually taking your leave.

Luke watched you go, chewing his lip between his teeth. There was more to you than you let on, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say it was any fondness, but he was starting to have a curiosity attaching itself to this scheme, and he knew that going out with you would satisfy it. He should have known having any personal stakes involved — sentimental or otherwise — would get dangerous.

Your own thoughts had barely budged on Luke. He was still a pain in your side and you figured you knew what kind of guy he was — not the type you had any interest in. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were appreciative he’d saved you from Ethan (and the inevitable washing up duty you’d be punished with when you beat him up), so maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as you’d initially judged him to be. Close, though.

part three

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james potter x reader 5

prev

wc: 1225

cw: sexual innuendo, suggestive content, reader is still horny (and so am i)

have been stuck on another fic i've been working on but absolutely smashed this out -- lifeguard!james literally has a mind of its own

james had all but become a part of the furniture in your life. the boys had taken an instant liking to him; similarly fond of his charm and open dorkiness as the girls and you. this meant he was suddenly everywhere, invited to your brunches and late-night walks and, currently, the soccer game you had going on a field near remus' house.

it wasn't a particularly good one. the weather had warmed up after the rain and was back to a sweltering heat that had you all moving sluggishly up and down the grass, kicking the ball between you with a significant lack of zeal. it wasn't long before you gave up altogether, lying back on the grass, feeling each of the itchy blades touch your skin. lily joined you shortly after, red in the face from exertion and sunburn. that left a game of 3v3, with sirius, james and marlene on one team, and peter, remus and mary on the other.

you were more than content to watch the show; the boys had stripped their shirts off and the girls were down to just their sports bras or bikini tops, but you were only focused on james. whilst you'd seen him shirtless a handful of times now down by the pool, in action he was even more glorious.

the sweat glistening on his skin made him look like a bloody fragrance model, glittering in the sun like god herself had crafted him for you to admire. who were you to deny the will of god? you watched happily from under your sunglasses, eyes trained on the way his muscles moved and contorted under his skin, wondering how they would feel under your hands.

"you're drooling," lily teased, reapplying her sunscreen. you rolled your eyes with a scoff but swiped your thumb under your lips just in case. "are you ever going to actually make a move? or do you just love to torment him?" you both laughed at that, glancing over to where the others were running up and down the makeshift pitch.

"i'm waiting for the right time," you explained, "and if he wants it so bad he can do something about it."

at that moment james scored a goal, the ball soaring past mary's incredible dive. his team cheered and celebrated, jumping all over each other despite the sweat and heat. when they parted james looked over at you, pointing to dedicate the goal to you. you mimed being shocked, hand over your mouth, before validating him with a kiss through the air. he committed to the scene, responding with an exaggerated, love-struck stumble before sirius hit him on the forearm to get him to focus.

you giggled at his display, sitting up higher to see the game better. you could feel lily watching you and refused to meet her gaze, scared she'd see the light blush you could feel on your face.

the heat got more bearable in the spot of shade you'd found under a tree and you could feel the energy returning to your body. unwilling to go back into the sun and rejoin the match you nominated yourself cheerleader, jumping around and yelling whenever either of the teams scored.

it was almost half an hour later when the players decided they couldn't go on, agreeing the last goal would determine the winner (they'd lost count of the accurate score ages ago anyway). you and lily got almost too into your roles, lily trying a shockingly good cartwheel as you cheered and clapped.

the game went to james' team, with him scoring the winning goal. it wasn't particularly surprising given his advantageous prior athleticism, but the whole group still celebrated him, cheers and high fives all around. you fulfilled your role, jumping excitedly as you applauded. you caught his glance down to your chest and grinned, bouncing one more time for his benefit. embarrassment flashed across his features momentarily but he recovered -- you could practically see him shift into flirt mode.

"so, when do i get my prize for my heroic win?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose. you paused, pretending to think before shaking your head.

"you're gonna have to impress me more than that, baywatch." if you'd replaced james with a puppy in that moment, you wouldn't have noticed, their eyes were exactly the same.

"you're hard to impress," he pouted and you almost felt bad.

"i'm hard to earn," you corrected, "i'm sure you'll get there eventually, bud."

"bud? you're cruel." james was smiling as he said it so you didn't feel bad, sticking your tongue out and heading off towards marlene. you hoped he was watching you walk away.

the afternoon came to an end as you all had things to attend to, work or family commitments. you and james had ended up walking together, the supermarket only being around the corner from the pool. you'd dropped sirius back to his home on the way and you were glad for the reprieve from his constant teasing.

"how often do you get hit on by the old ladies?" you asked, rummaging around in your tote bag for your uniform -- a black polo totally unsuited for the summer heat. james laughed heartily as he considered the question.

"a little," he confessed, "but they're harmless so i don't mind too much."

"as opposed to me?" you were teasing him, and delighted in the red tinge to his cheeks.

"as opposed to you," he affirmed, "you're something else."

"dangerous?" you asked in a sultry voice, hoping the answer was yes. james hesitated and you were sure he was going to agree with you, but he changed the conversation hastily.

"edna's the worst, of course, she is a woman on the prowl." you both laughed at that, the image of wrinkly old edna coming onto james both entertaining and kind of disgusting.

you turned to face him outside the pool gates and james groaned.

"that should be illegal," he said, staring at you. the tie-up neck strap of your bikini was poking out from under your work polo and the undone buttons were giving james a fantastic view of your cleavage (if you did say so yourself). "they can't let you work looking this good."

"there's not enough people in this stupid town to replace me if i got fired," you laughed, "besides, i'm sure you wouldn't be complaining if you came through my checkout line."

"i'll come through your checkout line anytime you want, hot stuff." you scoffed, both in disbelief at the terrible innuendo and to give yourself time to recover.

"haven't you got lives to save?" was all you could come up with after being surprised by james' boldness. he nodded reluctantly, turning to go with a wave. "might wanna hit the showers before you clock in!" you laughed as you caught sight of his 'little problem'.

"you gonna join me?" he shot back.

"in your dreams, loverboy!" you didn't wait for a response, turning on your heel towards the supermarket. if you'd stuck around any longer you were at real risk of following through with his proposition.

[g1rld1ary]

red carpets - actor!sirius black x actress!reader

wc: 942

cw: none! you catch sight of sirius on the red carpet

tag: @lovemenotts

The sheer amount of noise surrounding you was making you light-headed. Yet, you plastered on a smile, smoothed out your silky skirt and stepped onto the red carpet. Your smile didn’t budge as you inched down the carpet, performing for the hungry cameras and the sometimes scary men behind them. You grit your teeth as they yell commands, changing pose as they desire, waiting to get to the interview portion of the red carpet. At least the journalists had to be polite to you.

A woman from some gossip rag you purposefully avoid reading calls you over and you consciously boost your smile again, turning up the energy to 100. She’s nice, at least, and a good conversationalist. Too many interviewers left you to pick up their slack and carry the conversation as if it weren’t their job to be digging for the information they want.

“How does it feel to be nominated for an Emmy in your first foray into television?” She asks and you beam.

“It’s such an honour, really. I mean, this show is such a labour of love, Lily put her heart and soul into the writing, so I’m just so grateful I got to be the one to bring it to life. It’s so amazing that we’re both being nominated tonight,” You answer with a practised grace, giving a glance to the camera behind the interviewer.

The conversation continues and you find yourself enjoying it more than you anticipated. The interviewer connects with you well and matches your excited energy at being around celebrities. You figure it’s about time you move on, but give her one more question as a secret reward for her not being as invasive as the others usually are. She asks about your friendship with Lily and creating a project with someone you’d known forever and you grin again.

You start your answer, gushing over Lily’s talent for screenwriting and your friendship of ten years. You turn to look for her, meaning to gesture when your eyes get caught on something. Someone.

“Who is that?” You ask the interviewer, pointing out the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your life. Long dark hair, dressed in all black with silver jewellery glinting in the flash of cameras, you basically fall in love at first sight.

“That’s Sirius Black,” The interviewer answers with a laugh.

“God, what is he from?” He’s honestly supernaturally good-looking, you’re not convinced he’s real.

“He co-created and stars in The Marauders series, you haven’t seen it yet?”

“No, I’ve been meaning to but I haven’t had the time — Lils says it really has to be appreciated so I’m waiting to dedicate significant time to it. He did not look like that on the poster.” The series is set in high school and so all the actors look different, younger, Sirius no exception. The dark eyeliner around his grey eyes creates a magnetic contrast that makes him look much more mature than his character.

“Is it safe to say you’ll be finding him at the after-party?” The interviewer asks cheekily. The situation comes back to you in an instant; you’re on camera and who knows how many people are seeing you thirst over another actor in real-time.

“God no,” You laugh, frantically trying to brush over the incident, “I don’t chase after boys. He’d have to work for my attention.” You wink in an attempt to deliver the joke and it goes over smoothly enough, the interviewer graciously letting it go and thanking you for your time. You thank her profusely.

You chance another glance at Sirius as you move on, all grace and long limbs as he effortlessly poses for photos and messes around with his co-stars, spirit not yet beaten out of him by Hollywood. You envy the way his cast talk all the way through the process, clearly extremely fond of each other. You would go to the ends of the earth for Lily, your best friend and writer of the show you star in, but your male lead couldn’t be more opposite. Severus Snape was someone you would never get along with, and your interviews consisted of forced smiles and camaraderie on your side and zero effort from him. You would love a cast like The Marauders, not that you would dare complain to Lily, who had given you so much.

You don’t end up meeting Sirius during the awards or the afterparty, unfortunately, though you do see him once more across the room and feel the flutter of intrigue in your stomach. The next awards ceremony you had a goal, and a series to watch in the meantime.

LOVE IS ON THE RED CARPET? EMMY WINNER ADMIRES NOMINEE SIRIUS BLACK

The clip from that interview goes viral, both your fans and Sirius’ dissecting every frame of the videos. Some focus on the subtle up-and-down you give him, slowing it down to a snail’s pace to catch every eye movement. Others focus on Sirius, swearing they could see his eyes flick over to you for a fraction of a second. The ultimate conclusion is that you two should be in love, or already are, and fan edits of both you and your characters are already surfacing on TikTok.

You sigh from your hotel bed, scrolling through an endless amount of photos of him and yourself. Your publicist would not be happy with you. Although, it could be a pretty good marketing strategy.

[g1rld1ary]

chilli margaritas - spencer reid x bartender!reader

prev

wc: 852

cw: alcohol, one kinda rude man

you didn't expect to see reid back at the bar so soon. granted it wasn't the next time you saw the bau, but it was close. it must've been a long case since the team were all looking worse for wear, but you imagined they'd caught whoever they were hunting since they were in good enough spirits.

derek got the first round, as was tradition, but you counted more bau members than drinks ordered. you didn't even get to ask, morgan explaining preemptively.

"pretty boy says he wants another drink recommendation," he said with a smile, "i think he just likes you."

"tell him he's welcome over any time, i think he's cute." it was bold, even for you, but doctor spencer reid was fascinating and you really wanted to talk to him more. derek made a face that you hoped meant he was impressed with your forwardness and headed back to his table with the beers.

later in the night, spencer was finally back. you'd been completely in the zone for a while, giving drinks and taking payments as if you didn't even need to think about it. you did, however, almost spill some man's drink all over you when you caught sight of reid standing awkwardly at the bar, watching you work. you all but threw the drink at whoever had ordered it, racing over to where the special agent stood.

"hey," you tried to sound smooth, "back so soon?" spencer smiled softly, endearingly uncomfortable.

"last time wasn't as bad as i anticipated." he shrugged the non-answer.

"and yet i'm getting the feeling that i'm not getting a repeat order?"

"actually the drink wasn't bad! i like really sweet things, my coffee needs a lot of sugar too -- otherwise it's too bitter. so, um, yeah, sex on the beach was pretty good. but i was thinking that maybe you could show me some other drinks too? i never go out drinking and while I've researched different drinks i assume it would be more useful to taste them by someone who can make them properly. I'm twenty four and i've had one cocktail, i need to catch up." you vaguely wondered how he could get so many words out in one breath, but stopped to consider them.

"let's start with the fact that it's okay to not have drunk a whole heap of alcohol. i'm a bartender and i only really drink one or two. but i am more than happy to be your guide into the dazzling world of alcohol." spencer smiled at you again, earnest and trusting and you felt immense responsibility to make him happy. you moved to say something, continue the conversation, but a gruff man's voice interrupted your train of thought.

certain patrons had evidently lost their patience despite there being two of you behind the bar, and your supreme efficiency all night.

"save the flirting for after there's a beer in my hand," he called with a laugh. you turned to face him, dangerously slow, the night's exertion catching up in a moment.

"if you speak to me that way again, i will never serve you another drink for as long as i work here. understood?" your tone was icy, intentionally resisting a peacemaking smile that evidently threw the man off, used to being served hand and foot by women twenty years younger than him. he had the decency to look mildly ashamed, pushing away from the bar to go take a lap of the room.

you turned back to spencer with your good mood reinstated.

"i was thinking we could maybe take a different flavour profile to last time -- a chilli margarita?" spencer was staring at you, eyes wide and dazed.

"that was amazing... um, yeah, that sounds great." you laugh loudly, getting to work on his drink.

"hey," you say as you hand him the glass, "didn't you say you were twenty-four before? last time morgan said you were twenty-three." spencer blushed, avoiding eye contact.

"yeah, it was my birthday."

"and you didn't tell me? i thought we were friends -- i'm your alcohol guide! your drink is on the house then."

"what! no, that's okay i can pay!" you almost groaned at his obliviousness. you were trying to make a move! you argued with him until he surrendered, smiling graciously, though with that already familiar awkwardness.

you watched him go fondly. as your eyes passed the bar counter on the move to get back to work you caught some cash. spencer had tipped the entire cost of his margarita. you rolled your eyes, putting the cash in your apron with a smile you were trying to bite back.

the rest of your night consisted of you watching spencer try and surreptitiously lick the spicy chilli rim off his glass while his teammates were in conversation, and one of them inevitably catching him and teasing him for it. it was a good shift.

[g1rld1ary]

I feel like you’d eat up this idea so much but Camp Counselor James Potter!!

Where its semi frenemies to lovers after James unexpectedly becomes head camp counselor alongside reader, thus forcing them closer as they have to work together. I’d imagine James as a sports/swim instructor who the campers adore and reader as an arts and crafts teacher who James has liked for years since they met at camp (even before they became counselors.)

summer friends - camp counselor!james potter x camp counselor!reader

wc: 2816

cw: swearing, implied fem!r but i don't think any pronouns, alcohol, throwing up (once)

part TWO

first of all thank u so much for the compliment anon i hope i am doing it justice!! i actually love this idea and so there's gonna be more parts because i have so many fun lil camp ideas already HOWEVER we don't rlly have summer camps where I'm from so if u wanna see anything specific (activity/trope etc) please request!!! love u xoxo

It was stinking hot already. The clock in your car was broken so you weren't sure exactly what time it was, but you were sure it was too early to have sweat dripping from your brow. Nine, maybe. Still, nothing could bring down your present mood, not the sweat, not the early morning on a weekend, not even that your Fleetwood Mac CD kept skipping during The Chain. No, you were in the best mood you'd been in in a while and nothing could ruin it.

You were headed back to camp. Your camp. It was your first year as head counselor at the camp you'd grown up in and you were filled to the brim with excitement and drive to make this summer as magical as the ones you had growing up. Pulling into the dirt parking space you sighed contently, glad to be back where you belonged.

It was weird to see the camp almost empty. You'd been a general counselor before so you'd seen the camp without kids, but being one of the first there in the morning was peaceful. You waved cheerfully at one of the cooks who'd been working since you were a kid, laughing as he tried to return the gesture over the boxes he was hustling into the kitchen.

You broke into a jog to catch up with the camp director who you needed to meet with, smiling widely when he greeted you. You made small talk as he led you around the camp, giving directions to some of the staff setting up in between his extended spiel explaining your duties. You really were trying to listen but you couldn't help your eyes darting to each movement in the corner of your vision. The other head counselor should have been here already, and it wasn't like him to be late. Michael was one of the many kids you'd grown up with through summers, and he was just as devoted to camp as you were, so it wasn't surprising he also made head counselor, but it was surprising that he was now late.

"Where's Michael?" You asked when the director took a breath. He turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised slightly.

"Didn't we tell you? Michael had a health scare, he can't work this summer." You could feel your mouth hanging open. The two of you had been talking about this for years, dreaming of becoming the head counselors.

"So who's—"

"Nothing like the fresh air, is there?" Your shoulders tensed just by the timbre of it, you could recognise that voice anywhere.

"Potter," You turned to greet him, ponytail swinging behind you.

"No need for last names, love, I saw your braces phase," James retorts and you huff, rolling your eyes dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah, and I've got pictures of your acne. So you're really my partner this summer?" James didn't bother replying, his cocky grin saying it all. You felt the director's eyes on both of you and refrained from another snip in fear of it undermining your leadership, but still shot James a dead-eyed smile to let him know you weren't done.

You were dismissed to settle in until the other counselors arrived for briefing after a few other business matters (for which both you and James stayed civil and responsible) and all but ran to your car, eager to get the moving in part over with as quick as possible.

After so many years of making camp your home away from home, you'd pretty much nailed the routine of packing and unpacking, and your part of the four-girl cabin was taking shape very nicely if you did say so yourself. You even had time to stick up the photos you'd printed out, which usually took at least a week to happen. You were just wiping the sweat off your face with the hem of your t-shirt when someone cleared their throat. You didn't need to guess who it was.

James was leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly unperturbed by the heat.

"Sorry your dream boy couldn't be here," He said and you couldn't quite tell if he was joking.

"Michael and I—"

"Relax, I was talking about your real boyfriend, remember?" You paused at his statement, studying your painted fingers intently.

"We broke up," You said quietly, not daring to look at James in fear of him teasing you about it. You consequently missed the flash of curiosity (and maybe relief) that passed across his features.

"Sorry," He said awkwardly, still under the doorframe.

"It's fine. He's a dickhead."

"I could have told you that last summer!" He laughed, then slapped a hand over his mouth as he realised it might have been too far. You managed a small laugh yourself, if only to make him feel better about his misstep.

"Yeah, yeah. Last summer you also thought swallowing gum would fuse your insides together."

"And I stand by that! You should just learn to listen to me," He crowed, eyes sparkling with mischief. You rolled your eyes again, pushing yourself off the bed to reapply your deodorant.

"If I ever start listening to you, take it as a sign I'm losing my marbles," You said, ducking under the arm James had stretched across the doorframe, "Now come on, everyone'll be arriving." You don't stop to see if he's following, marching out of your cabin and toward the dining hall where the counselors would convene. James watched you go for a moment with a soft grin before jogging to catch up and bother you some more.

The dining hall was already buzzing with energy and noise and the campers hadn’t even arrived yet. You smiled as you watched the counselors meet and mingle, some of them being kids you’d grown up with almost your whole life.

“Everything the light touches is our kingdom,” James’ whisper appeared from behind you.

“You are so lame.” You don’t bother looking at him, convinced you knew exactly what face he’d be pulling. “Now make yourself useful and greet everyone.” You might have been a little rude, but it was clear to you that this job wasn’t nearly as important to James as it was to you. Head counselor was something you’d been working towards since you’d started at camp, and you would like to keep the gig through college if James didn’t ruin it for you.

A booming noise silenced the room, and you were surprised to know it came from James. He started off the address for you outlining all the boring housekeeping notices you could recite in your sleep. They were almost exactly the same every year, except for James’ insistence on being the funniest in the room and making jokes after every other statement.

“As you know if you find any contraband in the camper’s belongings report it to the camp director, especially if it’s an illicit substance, as there may be serious discipline. However, if it’s alcohol, slip into into my cabin ‘coz god knows I’ll need a drink after dealing with the kids and this one.” He gestured over to you, receiving a ripple of laughter throughout the room. You grit your teeth, trying not to react and be the bad cop of camp.

“Just so we’re all clear,” You faked a laugh, “None of the campers or counselors will be ingesting or posessing alcohol while at camp. Right guys?” You locked eyes with the camp director, trying to bring him down from the conniption he was on the verge of. It worked, mostly, and you took over from James, shooting him a warning glare as you rushed to finish listing off the timetable for the coming evening and next day as campers arrived.

In his defence though, James wasn’t exactly wrong. Although the camp director could never ever find out for the sake of all your jobs, there was definitely a stash of alcohol that all the counselors contributed to and had access to, though strictly when there was no risk of campers or higher ups finding out. Like tonight. Every year before the campers arrived the counselors held a campfire right out in the forest; far enough away that there was almost no risk of the adult-adults finding them, but close enough that drunk walks back to the cabin weren’t quite impossible.

That brought you to the campfire. You’d been stuck in meetings and doing last minute admin all night and you really needed the break. You could only look at schedules and spreadsheets for so long anyway, add James to the mix and you were going absolutely crazy.

You’d snagged a spot next to Lily, hugging her tight as you reunited.

“I can’t believe you’re stuck with Potter,” She said, taking a sip from some ungodly drink one of the counselors had mixed. You laughed as you pulled away and greeted Remus quickly, taking the can of cider he offered.

“I’m just thanking my lucky stars it wasn’t him three years ago.” You shook your head resolutely, “At least now I’m sure he’s human. I just hate that he’s gonna make me bad cop all summer.” Remus cocked his head in confusion and Lily asked for clarification so you continued.

“You know, James is always the funny one, James is always the chill one. I’m the one who’s gonna have to spoil the fun and enforce the rules.”

“That’s not true though, you might be the one sticking to the rules but you’ve been here just as long. Everyone knows and loves you, and you’ll have just as much fun even if you aren’t quite as go-with-the-flow,” Lily said, a comforting hand resting on your arm.

“Prongs might surprise you,” Remus said, clearly taking a different approach, “I think when it matters he’ll step up to the plate.” You looked at him for a moment, considering his philosophy. You chanced a glance over at James to see him halfway through a game of beer pong — losing badly in fact, and sighed. If he, the head sport and swim counselor, was losing at a game consisting of throwing then he must’ve already been smashed.

He caught your eye at just the wrong (or right) moment and waved you over with such excitement that you excused yourself from the conversation to see what he wanted.

“Sirius needs a teammate,” He said simply, gesturing for you to go over and play. You shook you head furiously.

“So you’re asking the arts and crafts leader? I have zero coordination.”

“Yeah, and? You’re competitive and that’s all that matters. Consider it our head counselor bonding time.” You looked at James for a moment, weighing out the pros and cons in your head. You figured it couldn’t be that bad even if you embarrassed yourself, and you really didn’t want the other counselors to think you had a stick up your arse after getting the position. So, you reciprocated the high five Sirius had offered and got in position.

The game went shit, as could have been assumed. You really didn’t have an ounce of coordination, your throws missing most of the cups. Sirius was better, making your team at least not totally hopeless, but the two of you were no match for the machines that were James and Marlene — though both significantly worsened by their inebriated states. You were providing the trash talk though, which seemed to keep everyone entertained

“Ok new game!” James clapped after you’d downed the last drink, “Sirius, switch with me.”

“What! But I like my partner!” You high-fived Sirius again at his declaration, now sufficiently buzzed from the shitty beer you’d been using.

“Yeah, we’re doing just fine, Potter. Worry about yourself.” It came out a bit louder and more aggressive than you intended, but James didn’t seem to mind — none of you were sober enough to be picking up on the intricacies of human communication. James mimed a stab to his heart dramatically.

“You kill me,” He groaned, leaning on the folding table in despair. You laughed loudly, holding up your hand in the shape of an L to rub it in. After rubbing it in for a moment you conceded, stomping your way to his side of the table, patting Marlene on the shoulder as you swapped places.

“Alright, Potter, let’s get this round over with so I can kick your arse again.” James’ grin was practically blinding as he brightened up, getting ready to play another match. You might’ve been getting a little too competitive, but it was camp and you were drunk, so everyone around the table was matching your energy tenfold.

“Are you actually capable of getting a ball in a cup? You’re genuinely so terrible at this,” James laughed as he said it but you took it personally, shoving him aside.

“Piss off, dickhead. Just because you’re a big shot athlete or whatever.” You must have finally struck a nerve in James as he was quiet for the rest of the game, still much more skilled than you but his energy significantly dampened. Even when you won, he only offered you a weak smile and a pathetic high five. You felt bad for a moment and opened your mouth to apologise, but your inebriated brain was distracted by music playing, running over to Lily to ask her to dance.

You were at the stage of being drunk where everything was perfect. The day’s heat had mellowed out into a dreamy summer night, a soft breeze rustling the leaves above you all as you danced and drank, reuniting after a long year apart.

You might’ve overdone it slightly though, which found you a little ways away from the rest of the party, emptying your stomach into a bush where hopefully none of the campers would stumble across it. Looking past your unfortunate accident you caught a glimpse of a dark shape on the bank of the river. Narrowing your eyes you tried to make out who it was, but settled on getting closer instead. You hesitated when you made it out to be James.

“Hey, Potter. You alright?” You called awkwardly, a little unwilling to get too close.

“Hm?” He looked back at you, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Yeah, fine.” You sighed. He was clearly upset about something and you couldn’t just end the conversation there, no matter how much you didn’t want to have a DnM with James Potter on night one of camp.

Reluctantly you got closer, taking a seat next to him. You watched the lake for a few minutes, black except for the silver from the moon. It was peaceful when there weren’t so many people around, it was one of your favourite things about camp, just being outside and disconnected from the rest of your life.

James broke the silence first.

“Do you… Are you mad that I’m co-head counselor?” You chanced a glance at him, surprised at the vulnerability in his voice. James wasn’t usually one to get sappy or personal like that, especially not with you.

“No?” You replied, “It wasn’t what I imagined, obviously, but it’s not like I hate you. You’re just mildly infuriating like 80% of the time.” James snorted, and you got the feeling he’d intended to wallow a bit longer. But James was James and he couldn’t stay moody for too long, it wasn’t in his nature.

“I can work with that.” He smiled his blinding grin, and you could have sworn you could see it reflecting off the water.

“We have to be a team though,” You affirmed; now was as good a time as any for you to address it. “I know that your whole bright and lively class clown thing is effortless for you, but I don’t wanna be the bad cop all the time, okay?” James was deep in thought for a second, then a cheeky grin crept onto his features.

“You think I’m bright and lively?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t sure you weren’t returning his smile. “Come on, let’s get to bed. Neither of us can afford to be hungover when the kids get here.”

You and James wandered back towards the cabins, both hazy and giggly from the lasting drunkenness and the (at least temporary) smoothing over of your tenuous relationship.

PART TWO

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part five

part one part two part three four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; luke tries to apologise for the party, but it takes you a while to forgive him (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3753

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, swearing

➻ did this take a month? yes. am I sorry? yes. will it happen again? absolutely

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage @caramelandvenus @chasebeth @maraudersmyloves losergirlcrowley amortencjja wisecrownpaper iammightsadyall odeasforyou rlqfpdl

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You were humiliated. You’d spent all night crying, mortification setting in thick over your body as you lay on your bed. However, despite how embarrassed you were, you were mostly angry. Angry at Luke for acting so affectionate, for making you believe that he really liked you then pulling away at the last second. Angry at yourself. Angry that after all these years, all it took was one stupid boy to bring down all your walls; angry that you let yourself be led into this situation.

And so that morning, instead of letting yourself mope around about it anymore, you picked yourself up with a new determination. You were angry, and everyone was going to know about it. Your braids were pulled extra tight, not in the mood to deal with flyaways or gentleness, and the smudged eyeliner around your eyes served as a reminder of the tears you’d wasted.

There was a much shorter line at the Lava Wall than usual. Although skipping out on activities could earn you some shitty chores or revoked dessert privileges, your bad mood had seeped into the whole area, practically lowering the temperature around you. You only had a few newer campers dare to enter your territory, and it took a Herculean effort to not snap at them for even coming near you.

Luke watched you from afar, hidden away in one of his typically safe smoking spots. He was trying to gauge your mood, see if anything was fixable. His prospects currently looked grim. He watched in anticipation as a young girl made a dumb mistake. Luke thought it wouldn’t have been her fault — Chiron had made him tour her around camp only a few weeks ago and she’d been pretty beat up before she got to camp. He watched you yank her off the Lava Wall moments before disaster, and held his breath as you both seemed to falter. The girl looked like she was going to burst into tears, and your face was unreadable, which was usually not a good thing. Just as he thought you were going to take out all your feelings on the scared kid, you crouched down to her level, thumb wiping away her spilled tears. You spoke softly to her, bringing her down from an impending breakdown with a gentleness that didn’t often emerge at camp.

The interaction gave Luke some hope, maybe your heart hadn’t totally closed off. That thought was quashed, however, when minutes later you ripped Travis Stoll a new one for being an ‘egotistical dickhead’ as he fooled around on the wall. Luke was genuinely shocked at the volume which came from your body, he could have mistaken it for a conch horn. Even Travis seemed a little taken aback at your outburst. Usually your bad moods were pretty easy to avoid — stay out of your way and you stayed away from others. Clearly today, though, you had anger to get out of your system, and you weren’t hesitant in expressing it.

You were still upset by lunchtime, and your day only got worse.

“Dance for me, cowboy,” Katy Gardener yelled, evil grin shining across the Dining Pavilion. You kept your head down and ignored it, hurrying to your table. A body popped up in front of you, blocking your path.

“What do we owe you for the table dance, babe?” Ethan crooned, and if you were in a slightly more private setting you would have decked him. You grumbled out a “Fuck you,” and shoved past him towards Drew, knowing that at least she wouldn’t reproach you in public. Ethan clearly wasn’t done with you yet, though, and began an all too innocent conversation with Mr D.

“Why don’t you ask how her weekend was, Mr D?” He said, throwing a casual glance over to you.

“Unless she kicked the crap out of your dumb ass, Elton, I don’t wanna hear it.” You could have kissed Mr D, and then immediately recoiled at the thought. Ethan’s embarrassed expression was enough to please you though, and you sunk into your meal silently, but at least not active with anger.

After lunch Luke tried to apologise to you, or explain himself at least. He knew you were upset, but he was still feeling good about himself. He had noble intentions, and was doing objectively the right thing by not taking advantage of you when you were drunk. None of these sentiments were expressed, though, when you stormed right past him, making sure to land an extra aggressive stomp on his foot as you went. Chris couldn’t hold back his loud laugh, clapping Luke on the back in semi-sympathy as he headed to his own next activity. Luke stood dumbly in his spot for a few minutes, unsure of how exactly to proceed. Clearly you were more upset than he thought.

Your own next activity was Ancient Greek with Mr D. You didn’t know why he taught it at all given you personally thought he was hardly fluent, but it was one activity you actually didn’t mind, especially as you got older. Whilst the younger kids had lessons focused on getting used to the alphabet and language, the elder campers who were more fluent had more traditional ‘english’ classes — learning about texts and languages, only in Ancient Greek so the dyslexia didn’t slow you down as much.

You shot Mr D a tightlipped smile as you walked into the pavilion, hoping to get by the lesson unscathed, though you didn’t have much hope. Both Ethan and Luke were in this class, and you really didn’t want to see either (though Luke usually skipped, so he wasn’t such a pressing issue).

Just your luck, Ethan was already in his unassigned assigned seat behind you, filling in the campers who didn’t attend the party about your escapades. You just rolled your eyes, trying to seem somewhat graceful about your own actions, but the leering eyes of your peers was making it supremely difficult. For once you did regret not making many friends at camp — if you had, maybe your humiliation wouldn’t be such a hot topic, but the very presence of your class reminded you why you had no interest in being friends with them.

The room thankfully quietened down when Mr D walked in, the whole camp somewhat wary of his temper. He started the lesson: Shakespeare. You perked up a bit from your slouched position in the chair. Whilst school wasn’t exactly your strong point with the ADHD and dyslexia, Shakespeare was something you actually kind of understood. When you were younger your Dad had taken you and Silena to a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you’d loved it ever since. Shakespeare translated into Greek was maybe your dream.

Mr D started talking about sonnets, and you got the distinct impression that he didn’t totally know what he was talking about — or just didn’t care enough to go into any detail. You figured that was more correct since he was the god of theatre, but you could never be totally sure with Dionysus. Regardless, he’d moved on from explaining the basic form of a sonnet and had set you a project: write your own version of Shakespeare’s sonnet 141. You sat straighter in your seat, unable to hide the small smile that had crept onto your face. You raised your hand, slightly offended by Mr D’s eye roll.

“Yes, Miss I-have-an-opinion-about-everything?” He sighed, but you persevered nonetheless.

“Do you want it in iambic pentameter?” You asked.

“You’re not going to fight me on this?” He hesitated, and you revelled in the fact that you could still surprise him after all these years.

“No, I think it’s a really good assignment.”

“You’re just messing with me, right Barton?”

“Beauregard,” You corrected for the thousandth time, “But no. I’m really excited to write it.” You picked uncomfortably at your cargos as the class watched your exchange.

“Go see Chiron.”

“What?”

“Get out!” He yelled, not quite angry but you weren’t going to be the one to test him. There were rumours of previous campers who’d been turned into dolphins and you did not want to continue that legacy. You wandered out of Greek class, still slightly confused at what had just happened, and headed back to your cabin, not bothering to go see Chiron. With the cabin to yourself you tried to get a start on Mr D’s project, but inspiration was lacking and you resorted to taking a nap instead.

The rift between you and Luke became public knowledge at that night’s campfire. Without even realising it you’d started sitting with him most nights (or rather he sat with you, bothering you until you submitted to a conversation). Then suddenly you were avoiding him like the plague, spitting out a harsh “Get fucked, Castellan,” when he called your name softly, almost begging you to talk to him. You were never one to back down from your decisions though, and left him in the dust, taking a seat next to Clarisse. You could tell even Chris could see something was seriously wrong as he pressed a kiss to Clarisse’s hand and disappeared somewhere, presumably to sit with Luke.

You didn’t even really know why you were at the campfire in the first place. You’d been only a handful of times before you knew Luke, and now you didn’t want to know him yet here you were. Clarisse tried to keep you entertained with her quiet comments — which did admittedly make you snort a laugh once or twice, but you were otherwise miserable. You sure as hell weren’t going to participate or chat to anyone, and you were really regretting not just pursuing your usual routine of getting to the top of the Aphrodite cabin for stargazing. Plus, you could feel Luke’s eyes following your every move, and you were getting fed up with the kicked puppy act.

Your final straw was the singing — why was everyone in Camp Half-Blood so obsessed with singing? The second some douchebag from Apollo brought out a guitar you were done, launching yourself out of your seat and stomping back towards your cabin for some peace and quiet. Just as you were crossing the threshold out of the amphitheatre a hand grabbed your arm and you whirled around to face the culprit, ripping your arm out of his embrace.

“Touch me again, Castellan, and I swear to the Gods I will make sure you have no hands to use.”

“Look, I just wanted—”

“I don’t care, Castellan. We don’t always get what we want, do we?” You knew you were being mean, but you frankly didn’t care. When Luke was shocked into silence, mouth slightly open as he searched for anything to say, you took the opportunity to leave him in the dust, trying to keep your confident walk even as your legs were shaking slightly.

“Bro, what did you do to her?” Beckendorf approached Luke up near the exit of the amphitheatre.

“I didn’t do anything,” Luke snapped, before taking a beat to calm himself down, “She would’ve been too drunk to remember.”

“But the plan was working!”

“What do you care? I thought you wanted out.” A slight blush crept on Beckendorf’s face, accompanying the dumb grin.

“Yeah, well I did, but, um, that was until she kissed me.” Despite his own bad luck, Luke couldn’t help but be happy for Beckendorf, slightly hating the fact that the lame younger boy had grown on him significantly. He let Charles ramble about the kiss for a bit despite his decreasing interest in the conversation, very glad when Percy joined them.

“So I talked to Clarisse,” He said, and Luke knew by his tone the news wasn’t going to be good. Beckendorf was still hopeful (or just naive) though, and pestered him for more details. “’Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns’ is the direct quote.” All three of them grimaced, yet Beckendorf persisted.

“Hey, we don’t know. She might just need a day to cool off.” Luke thought back to the bruise you’d left on his foot earlier in the day.

“Maybe two.”

The Aphrodite kids were all in archery except you, who’d claimed to be sick to get out of it. So, Silena was on her own and vulnerable to Ethan approaching.

“Hey there, Cupid.” He popped up behind her, not noticing the grimace creeping onto Silena’s face.

“Hi, Ethan.” She refused to look at him, focusing instead on aiming her arrow.

“I want to talk about the end of summer dance.” Silena rolled her eyes as the rest of her siblings pretended to mind their own business despite their innate need to know what was going on.

“Look, you know the deal. I can’t go if my sister doesn’t.” The end of summer dance was exactly what it sounded like; a big party for all the kids at camp to celebrate the three months they’d spent together and send off the kids who weren’t staying all year round. Though the actual dance was supervised, it was a well known secret that all of the older campers stayed out through the night drinking and dancing, and most of the folk around camp turned a blind eye for the night. Usually, your dad would pick you up just before the party started, which would inevitably result in a fight between you and Silena. Now though, Silena wasn’t quite so against leaving early, wanting out of the boy drama she’d found herself in.

“Your sister is going,” Ethan said, puffing out his chest as if it made him look more manly. Silena’s surprise was genuine.

“Since when?”

“Let’s just say I’m taking care of it,” Was all Ethan said before walking away, confident swagger in his step as he passed in front of your siblings, and Silena wondered how many of them were holding back the urge to let go of their arrow as he crossed them.

Still, Ethan had to make good on his word, so he found himself approaching Luke again. Rummaging around in his pockets, Ethan presented him with 200 dollars in cash. Luke raised an eyebrow, not bothering with words.

“This should take care of everything for the dance. I’m sure you don’t own anything presentable so this is for a new outfit, flowers for her, whatever. As long as she comes to the dance.” Luke stared at him, and was disgusted at what he was feeling. He might’ve been growing a conscience, something that would be greatly inconvenient for his life as the scary, unsociable older guy at camp.

“I’m sick of your game,” He said finally, pushing the cash back towards Ethan, who frowned. Luke got the distinct feeling he’d never been told no before — except by you, of course. Ethan exaggerated a huff and reached back into his pocket, pulling out one more hundred dollar bill. Luke faltered. He was sick of hurting you, but three hundred dollars was a lot of money. And without any way of making income as a year-rounder it was only more attractive. So Luke swallowed his pride and his morals and took the money. Though, getting you to ever consider going out with him again was basically a hopeless case.

So Luke began his new quest of getting you to speak to him again. He’d shown up to the Lava Wall full of audacity and enthusiasm, and waited patiently in line as you helped the other kids, pretending you couldn’t see him. When it was clear he wasn’t going to leave — or have his turn on the climbing wall — until you acknowledged him, you rolled your eyes aggressively.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, gesturing for the Athena kid standing behind Luke to have her turn.

“I want to improve my time,” He smiled, and you could tell he thought he was being cute. You only partly secretly agreed.

“You’re so…” You trailed off, unable to find a word appropriate for your audience of children.

“Charming?” He asked, and there was that smile again. “Wholesome?”

“Unwelcome,” You settled on, turning back to your duties.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know that?” You froze for a second, then told the kid waiting to start to hold on until you could get rid of him.

“And you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Ohh, someone still has their panties in a twist!”

“Don’t for one minute think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties,” You scoffed, subconsciously adjusting your denim shorts.

“Then what did I have an effect on?” Despite the two of you clearly arguing, there was a surprisingly vulnerable look in his eyes. You ignored it.

“Other than my upchuck reflex? Nothing.” You turned on your heel, making it clear the conversation was over.

You were absent from that night’s campfire, which Luke was grateful for since Percy and Beckendorf had much to say about the plan, none good.

“So she’s still majorly pissed,” Percy started and Luke snorted.

“Yeah, got that, genius.”

“Well the question is, how do you stop a girl from being mad?” Beckendorf asked, and Luke could only cringe at how they sounded. With the way the three of them were talking, any passerby would surely think they were three prepubescent virgins. From next to them, Annabeth sighed harshly.

“Look, Luke. You embarrassed her, her ego’s taken a hit. Devastating for any girl, especially damaging for a daughter of Aphrodite. You need to get on her level; even the score and embarrass yourself for her.” The boys sat back, stunned. One by one they processed the instructions, nodding slowly. Thank the Gods for Annabeth Chase was the only thing Luke could think.

With much planning and a little bit of outside involvement (Luke swapped some of his chores with Clarisse’s to get her to agree), the plan was set in motion.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can make fun of the little kids singing Disney songs?” Clarisse lay on your bed as you cleaned your bunk area and you looked at her skeptically.

“Why tonight? We never go to the sing alongs.”

“Dunno,” She shrugged, “Something to do. Plus, summer’s almost over and soon we won’t get to spend any time together.” You grinned, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

“Aw,” You cooed, “I knew you liked me deep down.” Clarisse swatted your hand away but smiled nonetheless, and the two of you stayed huddled up on your bunk gossiping until dinner.

Swayed by Clarisse’s begging, the two of you ended up at the sing along, much too close to the front for your liking. You struggled through the karaoke songs, only staying to commentate to Clarisse. You’d heard one too many awful renditions of classic childhood pop songs when the amphitheatre went quiet, no one knowing who was meant to be leading the next song.

“You’re just too good to be true,” The voice rang out into the night, unaccompanied voice making you gasp immediately in recognition. This was your favourite song, but hardly anyone knew that. It was the song you used to dance to with your dad when you were a kid, before you even knew you were a demigod.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” People were murmuring now, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from and who it belonged to — no one who’d sung before for sure.

“You feel like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much,” You gasped again as you saw the figure emerge from the darkness. Luke Castellan was singing at the camp sing along. You couldn’t hold in your giggle as he continued to sing a cappella, coming into the light of the stage. He seemed to be searching for something though, eyes roving over the audience.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” His eyes locked with yours; he found what he was looking for. Before you could dwell on the incredibly cheesy act, music swelled to life, the Apollo musicians seemingly having learnt the piece beforehand. You wondered how much planning went into this. Your joy only increased as Luke began to dance; dorky, outdated moves that made you laugh out loud — a sound so unfamiliar that a few campers had to look back to check it was really you. You laughed and clapped along with everyone else, thoroughly enjoying Luke embarrassing himself in front of the whole camp.

The performance had to end at some point though, and you found yourself rising out of your seat to give a standing ovation, whooping and cheering along with everyone else. By chance you caught a glance of Clarisse’s face to see her already watching you, a satisfied look evident on her face. You were confused for a second before a memory struck you — a late night on the roof trading drunk secrets and stories where you told her about your childhood connection to Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You. You were floored, and also kind of flattered. You knew it would have taken a lot for Luke to go to Clarisse for help — she was scary when she was pissed, and she was definitely pissed at Luke after the party.

You felt that little ball of light start to flicker in your chest again, and you were scared. But more than that you were excited. Despite everything else about you, you were a daughter of Aphrodite and a teenage girl, and the most romantic thing to ever happen at camp just happened to you. You guessed Luke had probably grovelled enough, and you would’ve told him that immediately if he hadn’t been swarmed by campers congratulating or laughing at him. Deciding you couldn’t put yourself in the middle of that crowd, you settled on telling him in the morning.

[g1rld1ary]

overheard that she was nineteen - james potter x reader

wc: 1058

cw: nothing, one swear, reader is sad on their birthday, implied fem!reader but i don't think any pronouns

chat how many aura points do i lose for crying in the literal first 20 minutes of my nineteenth birthday :/ don't think about this fic too hard or you'll see it's more of a diary entry than work of fiction oopsie :')

You weren't feeling very special. To be quite honest, your day had been totally shit. It was your birthday, your nineteenth birthday and everyone had forgotten. Well, that wasn't true exactly, but nobody cared. Your parents had barely said 'happy birthday' when you called them, and only one of your friends had texted you. A sweet message, but still kind of depressing.

You knew it shouldn't have been a big deal, no one cared about nineteen, right? Eighteen was the big birthday and you'd had a good enough day last year, so you weren't really sure why this year had brought you down so much.

Maybe it was just because your love of birthdays was never reciprocated. A person's birthday could be the most exciting day of the year, and you were of the opinion that it should be, if possible. You were the one who showed up with a hand-baked cake on your friend's doorstep, without fail. It was something you enjoyed doing undoubtedly, you spent ages picking out which colour the icing should be and what edible decorations should go on top.

On top of that, you considered your defining talent to be writing cards. It was something you took pride in, penning almost-essays that encapsulated the breadth and depth of your love for your nearest and dearest. Proclamations of never-ending adoration, gratitude for years of friendship, the insides of your heart and soul sitting amongst fresh ink and scribbled hearts. You signed your name with a heart and a flower every time. Plus, you made particular efforts to come up with a creative pun or doodle for the front, just to keep things interesting.

So birthdays were things you held in high regard, and having yours seemingly mean nothing to anyone else was a bit of a mood killer if you were being totally honest. Still, what could you do? You picked yourself up, ate an uninspiring breakfast and went to uni.

You felt more anonymous than usual in class. With the semester having started only a week prior, you were in a sea of new people, none of them having any way of knowing it was your birthday, and you weren't quite at the point where you were begging for well-wishes from people you didn't particularly care about. And so you took notes, put your hand up for the participation grade and dreamed of your own cake and candles.

By the end of the day you were exhausted. The classes were long anyway, but carrying around your own personal grey cloud was taking a toll on your body and mind. It was at the car park when your phone dinged; James.

are you coming over tonight?

please

You smiled a little despite your sour mood. Even if James didn't seem like he was fully aware of your outlook on birthdays, being with him always made you feel better.

It'd already been dark for an hour or so by the time you reached the flat he shared with the boys, the winter weather making the sun disappear at four o'clock. You knocked on his door softly, unable to pluck up the strength to even make your presence easily known. James must've been waiting for you though, since you heard the heavy pad of his feet almost instantaneously.

The sight of him nearly took your breath away, though nothing was out of the ordinary. He was still the same old James, his glasses slightly askew on his nose, but he was looking at you with such softness that you felt the tears spike behind your eyes. You tried to push them down.

"I thought we'd have a bit of an early dinner. I know you won't have eaten at uni." He took your bag, setting it by the entry table softly. You managed to nod, hopefully not giving away all your awful feelings. You tried not to be cut up that he hadn't wished you a happy birthday yet.

All of your melancholy had been for nothing, you realised, when James led you to the dining table. He'd gone the full mile, with a cheesy red tablecloth and single candle as the centrepiece.

"Happy birthday, my love," He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You couldn't help it, the tears rolling down your cheeks before you even realised. Once they started you had no chance, sobs wracking through your body as James stood beside you, bewildered.

"Is this not okay? Do you not like it?" He fretted as you cried, and you rushed to reassure him.

"I love it, Jamie, promise. It's just," You managed a half laugh through your bout of tears, "I thought no one cared. I can't believe you've done this for me." James' brow furrowed deeper than you'd ever seen it before as he pulled you into a tight hug.

"I would do anything for you, love. I mean it."

Once your tears had subsided you had a lovely dinner, James making you double over with laughter as all thoughts of your previous shit day dissolved under the weight of the homemade pasta sitting in your stomach.

Just before the night died down, James presented you with a small box, wrapped in the most beautiful silky ribbon. You glanced up at him curiously, untying it slowly. Inside was the most beautiful bracelet you'd ever seen. Connected with a heart-shaped clasp and decorated with a single charm, a love letter. You were embarrassed by the tears working their way back up to your lash line, but James looked delighted by the reaction, he lived to make you happy.

"Thank you," You whispered, "I love you."

James didn't have to say it back for you to know, but he did anyway because it made him happy.

Maybe your birthday wasn't the flashy event you might've wanted, however deep down, but you were strangely okay with it. Despite the fact that no one showed up to your door with a hand-baked cake or essay-length card, you had James, and James would've pulled the stars down from the sky if he thought it would boost your mood. That was enough.

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part four

part one part two part three five

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; you agree to go to the Apollo party with luke, and the night is in no way what you expect (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 4070

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos, alcohol, smoking/weed, swearing, kissing

➻ this took yonks oops - hope u enjoy!! (it's a bit longer than all the others though so don't say I don't love u xx)

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage @caramelandvenus @chasebeth

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The night of the party, you were having serious doubts. You were just glad you hadn’t told Silena that you were considering going at all as she was already practically feral over not being allowed to go. It was times like this that you wondered how things would be if the two of you were closer — helping each other break the rules and have a social life rather than keeping each other on your father’s short leash, ratting each other out at each opportunity.

“Can’t you just be normal?” Silena whined, brushing out her hair and gazing longingly at the outfit she’d picked out for the event, sitting sad and unworn.

“Define normal,” You replied, not sparing her a glance over your novel. This was a well-rehearsed dance by now, and you both knew the steps by heart.

“The Apollo party is normal — leaving your bed for one Friday night is normal!” She cried, pulling far too roughly at her hair in frustration.

“That party is just an excuse for all the idiots here to drink smuggled alcohol and grind up against each other in futile hopes of distracting themselves from the pathetic emptiness of their—”

“Meaningless, consumer-driven lives.” Half the cabin joined Silena in her chorus and you stopped short. You didn’t know whether to be proud of your brand or offended that you’d become so predictable. Silena approached you, speaking quieter so that she was talking just to you and not the show that you usually put on for the rest of the cabin.

“C’mon, please? Just for one night, do this one thing for me? Please.” You hesitated. Silena looked unexpectedly sincere and you realised that the party really meant a lot to her. And, despite your best efforts, you thought of Luke. You thought of his pretty eyes and his dumb smile and his insistence on getting you to this party, and your resolve started to crack. One party couldn’t be that bad, right? It’s not like you were leaving camp, worst case it was always an easy trip back to your cabin. You inhaled deeply, sending your mom a silent prayer.

“I guess I can make an appearance.” The whole cabin erupted in cheers and disbelief. You hadn’t been to a Camp Half-Blood party since your very first one when you were fourteen years old, and not one of your siblings knew why. Silena especially was ecstatic, jumping about and pulling you into a tight hug. You didn’t know how to respond, the gesture of affection foreign between the two of you, but reluctantly wrapped your arms around her.

“Alright,” You ended the moment, “Let’s just go before I back out.” You stopped for a quick second in front of your own vanity, ensuring nothing was seriously wrong with your outfit before bidding the younger campers goodbye and opening the door.

And there, standing nervously in what might’ve been his nicest shirt, was Luke.

“What are you doing here?” You rushed out before you could properly process what was happening. You’d forgotten all about his promise to pick you up, and now the whole cabin would be eavesdropping.

“Nine-thirty, right? Ah,” He glanced at an imaginary watch, “I’m early.” You might’ve laughed a little if you weren’t so mortified at your siblings spying on you.

“Whatever. Let’s just go.” You pulled him along with you, unaware of his eyes glued to the place where your skin touched his. He tried to make conversation with you, willing both of you to return to the dynamic you had after the concert a few days prior, but your embarrassment had shut down any good humour you might’ve possessed. Already dreading the party again, you could feel yourself curling into yourself, but were powerless to stop it.

You were immediately reminded as to why you hated these parties, people you didn’t like only heightened by the substances floating around. It was held in one of the abandoned bunkers littered through the woods, only adding to the claustrophobic feeling with its dark walls and low ceilings. Plus, you were sure the few winding tunnels leading to other rooms would be hell to navigate when drunk.

You knew it was rude, but you lost Luke quickly. You were already uncomfortable enough here and had resigned to sticking out the night for Silena only, you really didn’t want Luke clinging to you all night and trying to ‘get some’ — or whatever his goal for your supposed date was. Your solitude didn’t last long though, as you rounded a corner to smack into Ethan. You scowled, trying to push past him, but he seemed determined to chat.

“Looking hot, Beauregard. You should get out of those camp shirts more often.” Your frown only deepened, hand itching to slap the shit out of him.

“Hey, wait — did your hairline just recede?” You almost laughed at the way his hand flew to his hair; Ethan White was undoubtedly more vain than any of the Aphrodite kids. You ducked around him, desperate to be anywhere else.

“Where are you going?” He called after you, shoving a younger camper out of the way.

“Away.”

“Your sister here?” You froze up, turning slowly towards the disgusting boy.

“Stay away from my sister,” You threatened, your meanest look painted across your face. Ethan only smirked, and it made you hate him more.

“Oh I’ll stay away from your sister, but I can’t guarantee she’ll stay away from me.” Your hand was raising to slap him down when one of his friends pulled him away to go spectate a fight. You supposed you were somewhat glad, Silena would definitely hate you if you hit him at a party, and the Apollo kids would definitely all be too hammered to treat any busted knuckles.

You’d hidden away with Clarisse for half an hour, a much needed respite from the torture that was all around you. You passed a blunt between you, giggling and gossiping, Luke’s name coming up more than once. You weren’t sure what to think of him, but you did know your social battery was absolutely dying, and you really weren’t in the mood to be there anymore. Your chat with Clarisse only ended when Chris approached her, asking for a dance. She looked to you for confirmation that it was ok and you waved her off, very much on board for whatever was blossoming between them. You wouldn’t say you liked Chris — you barely liked anyone — but of the campers around your age, he was on the better end of a terrible spectrum.

As you watched her go, a much more unfortunate sight caught your attention. Silena hanging off Ethan’s arm, one intention clearly in mind. You and Beckendorf appeared as parallels on opposite sides of the room, both wearing dismayed expressions, hearts sinking.

“Look who found me,” Ethan turned to you, cocky grin lighting a fire in your chest. He turned to go, pulling Silena with him, but you found your voice just in time.

“Silena, wait!” Your sister turned quickly, disgust evident.

“Can you not address me here?” She snapped and you were taken aback for a second.

“No, wait. There’s something I need to tell you,” You tried, but she was wholly unaffected.

“Look, I am busy enjoying my adolescence, so scamper off and do the same.”

“Bye bye,” Ethan added, and you really wondered how he was beat up so rarely.

You felt your heart sink, genuine worry for your little sister overtaking the annoyance that Ethan so often caused. You thought she would have at least heard you out when you were actually worried for her, but Silena never failed to disappoint you. Ok, maybe that was a bit mean. That didn’t stop you from wallowing in your own feelings and grabbing a shot from some guy who was handing them out.

“Right on, sister!” Travis Stoll exclaimed, cowering only slightly when you shot him a glare, downing the liquor as quickly as you could stomach.

“Hey, what’s this?” Luke came out of nowhere, putting one of the shot glasses you’d picked up back in Travis’ hands. “I’ve been looking all over the place for you.” You rolled your eyes, alcohol only fuelling your irritation.

“I’m getting trashed, man,” You mocked, “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”

“I dunno. I say do what you wanna do,” Luke said, and it took everything in you to keep your resolve. Maybe getting crossfaded wasn’t such a smart idea.

“You’re the only one. Later,” You grumbled, pushing away from him while you still had your self-restraint. You just wanted this whole night to be over.

In the same moments, Beckendorf had just seen Silena without Ethan for the first time in a while, and hurried to talk to her.

“Hi, Silena,” He raised his voice to get her attention over the music.

“Oh, hi Beckendorf,” She seemed to be a million miles away, hardly listening to him, “Uh, you know Drew?”

“Um, yeah, I think we had Greek together once?”

“Great.” Drew looked supremely unimpressed. Beckendorf persisted.

“So, Silena, you really look amazing.” The compliment fell a bit flat when Drew raised an eyebrow and Silena looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. Ethan, having heard Beckendorf’s sad attempts, joined the conversation.

“We all know I look amazing,” He said, and Beckendorf didn’t know why both the girls giggled like it was in any way funny.

“C’mon, Silena. We’re all playing beer pong.” Silena finally spared Beckendorf a glance.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” She said, and Beckendorf managed a pathetic nod. As they retreated, Ethan couldn’t help but throw a cocky thumbs up his way, and Beckendorf felt his shoulders sag. After an awkward moment of silence between him and Drew even she left, and he was alone in the middle of the party.

You were similarly alone, having escaped Luke for some time, using the respite to get significantly drunker. You didn’t know exactly why, you’d never been one to get blackout for the sake of it. Maybe you were sick of being there, maybe you didn’t want to face all the emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Maybe, as Silena would say, you were finally becoming ‘normal’. Regardless, you were hardly aware of what was going on anymore, finally feeling like the party wasn’t total dogshit. At least until Luke grabbed another shot out of your hand. What was with that?

“Why don’t you let me have this one, huh?” He asked, bringing it up to his own lips. You intercepted, downing it before he could stop you.

“No! That one was mine,” You whined impetuously. If you were aware of your actions you would have been horrified, you almost sounded like Silena. Luke, despite his worry, almost laughed. That was, until you started taking off, again. He really didn’t anticipate you to be a wandering drunk. Luke trailed after you into another room until Ethan stopped him in the doorway, looking delighted.

“My man! How’d you get her to do it?” He asked, a vaguely misogynistic air about him.

“Do what?” Luke replied, worried for the response.

“Act like a human.” They both turned to search for you, finding you somehow on top of a table, dancing in a way that was all hips and hair. Neither could deny it was pretty hot.

You’d already attracted a crowd, half interested in your sudden change of demeanour, the other half just appreciative of an opportunity to ogle a pretty girl’s body. Ethan was a member of both groups, yelling and whooping as you grinded against nothing, Aphrodite allure keeping all eyes on you. Luke rushed over to you, knowing if he sat by and watched as you did this while out of your right mind you would never forgive him.

Intending to just coax you down Luke ended up in a serendipitous moment of being in the right place at the right time, easily catching you when you toppled over, unbalanced from knocking your head on a light hanging from the ceiling. You landed squarely in his strong arms, looking up at him in a daze.

“Are you okay?” You heard him say, though he sounded much further away than he was.

“I’m fine,” You grumbled, trying to hop up but stumbling embarrassingly back into him. Luke took it in stride, carrying you bridal style until you were out of the bulk of the crowd. Setting you down gently he kept a hand securely around your waist, leading you through the bunker out a hallway.

“I just need to lie down somewhere,” You mumbled, clutching at your pounding head.

“Absolutely not. You lie down and you’ll go to sleep.” You smiled dreamily, something that Luke returned involuntarily.

“Sleep is good.” He barked out a laugh.

“Not if you have a concussion.”

You both paused in the middle of a hallway so you could sit at a chair conveniently placed as Luke searched for a glass of water. Instead he found Beckendorf. After several unsuccessful attempts to shoo him away, Luke gave up and let him talk.

“It’s off, okay? The whole thing’s off.”

“What are you talking about?” Luke asked, sparing a glance at you; obliviously playing with a strand of hair.

“She never wanted me. She wanted Ethan the whole time.” Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes — he really, truly, did not care.

“Charles,” He said, “Do you like this girl?”

“Yeah,” Beckendorf sighed. Luke tapped his foot.

“Right. And is she worth all this trouble?”

“I thought she was. But, well—” Luke cut him off, truly frustrated with the inexperienced boy.

“Look, she is or she isn’t. First of all, Ethan isn’t half the man you are. Secondly, don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want. Just go for it.” Luke lunged to catch you when you tipped out of the chair, a signal clear to even Beckendorf that the conversation was over. He spared the younger boy a smile before leading you away gently, murmuring promises of fresh air and feeling better. Beckendorf didn’t know what to do with Luke’s advice, but at least he wasn’t so mopey anymore.

You’d come out of your dream state back to being a little more sentient by the time you got outside, your personality returning.

“You’re so patronising,” You groaned, eyeing Luke’s hand supporting the majority of your weight.

“Leave it to you to use big words when you’re smashed,” Luke laughed slightly, removing his arms when you tried to shove them off, and snorting quietly when you tripped onto the grass.

“Why are you doing this?” You didn’t dare look at him.

“I told you, you might have a concussion. I might not be an Apollo kid, but I’ve had enough to know how to handle them.”

“You don’t care if I never wake up,” You laughed humourlessly, pushing your hair out of your face in a manner similar to that of a toddler. Luke grinned, eyes sparkling even in the dark outside.

“Sure I do.” You gave him a questioning look and he led you to a selection of flat-ish tree stumps around a clearing. “I’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me,” He explained and it was your turn to snort.

“Like you could find one.”

“See that, there? Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” You laughed despite yourself, missing the way Luke lit up at the reaction. He helped you onto the seat, taking the one next to you. You looked over at him, unaware that the smile you thought was internal was clear as day on your face. Luke admired it, revelling in the fact that he was probably one of very few at camp who had ever seen it.

You two sat quietly for a while, making meaningless conversation — Luke told you stories you missed from the party and you regretted getting too drunk to see it all yourself.

“So why’d you let him get to you?” He asked eventually, and you cocked your head to the side.

“Who?”

“Ethan.” You groaned.

“I hate him.”

“Well you’ve chosen the perfect revenge; mainlining tequila.” You both laughed at that, and you hazily noted how good it felt to laugh with him.

“Well, you know what they say…” You joked, but Luke didn’t catch on.

“No, what do they say?” He asked with childlike innocence, but in an instant you’d slipped into sleep, comforted by the perfect summer night weather. Luke was up in a second, crouching in front of you, holding your face in both hands and frantically trying to wake you. If you’d been awake, you might’ve noted how intimate it felt. You only woke when he slapped you — lightly, but effective enough.

Gazing up at him through your lashes, you had something of an epiphany. You liked Luke. You didn’t know how you didn’t notice it before, or really how it had happened at all, but seeing him standing inches from you really brought things to light. You opened your mouth to illustrate this point, still not quite sober enough to have those reservations, but instead all that came out was “Your eyes have a little green in them.”

Luke’s face twisted from confusion to relief, lips perking up into a smile. You held eye contact for an extended moment, a foreign tension building between you both (as opposed to the old, comfortable tension you’d gotten used to when hating him). Then you threw up all over his shoes. You at least had the decency to be embarrassed about it, and Luke had the decency not to mention it, instead pulling you up to prepare for the journey of a walk back to your cabin.

Ethan had meanwhile cozied himself up between Silena and Drew, a hand over each girl’s shoulders.

“Some of us are staying out longer, going for a special swim in the lake. You in?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Silena looked up at him warily.

“My sister’ll freak if I’m not back in twenty,” She said. A lie, kind of. She didn’t actually think you were in any position to be worried about her at that moment.

“I don’t have to be back…” Drew nominated herself, cuddling in closer to Ethan’s side. He still persisted with Silena.

“One more chance…” He tried his best to be at his most attractive, but Silena was more than over the whole night.

“Oh, man. I can’t. Damn.” It was hardly believable, but Drew had decided that she wanted Ethan then, and she got what she wanted.

“That’s a shame.” She produced a saccharine smile. “Well?” Ethan held out an arm for her to take, and the two were already getting handsy on their trip down to the lake. Silena dreaded to think about the things that would be done there in the coming hours.

“Have fun tonight?” A voice asked from behind her. Beckendorf sounded accusatory, and honestly Silena couldn’t even blame him.

“Tons,” She lied, wrapping her arms around herself. He stalked past her and Silena was about to leave him be when she was struck by a realisation.

“Charles?” She called, and Beckendorf dutifully turned to face her despite his obvious angst. “Do you think you could walk me back? I don’t have a weapon and the forest really freaks me out.” Silena fully expected him to refuse, and wouldn’t have blamed him for it in the slightest, but moments later they were walking side by side along the dark path.

There was tense silence between them for a while before Beckendorf finally gathered the courage to break it.

“You never wanted to go out with me, did you?” He asked, and the earnest directness of the question shocked her.

“Yes I did,” Silena lied, trying to be nice.

“No you didn’t,” He refuted bluntly.

“Well, okay, not actually—”

“Then that’s all you had to say!” He cried, and she really did feel badly about upsetting him. “Have you always been this selfish?” He could barely hear her whispered “Yes.”

“Just because you’re beautiful, doesn’t mean you can treat people like they don’t matter. I mean, I really like you, okay? I defended you when people called you conceited, I helped you when you asked me to. I learnt how to weld for you! And then you blow me off for—”

Without thinking, Silena grabbed his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was innocent, sitting on his lips for a few seconds before pulling away, both teenagers sporting matching blushes. Silena gave him a quick smile before hopping up the steps and safely into the Aphrodite cabin. Beckendorf managed to wait until he was safely alone to celebrate, a dorky little dance and an excited fist pump.

Your night didn’t follow quite the same trajectory. You’d been walking with Luke for what felt like hours, your tired brain and feet unwilling to finish the journey. However, it was the same easy conversation that you’d started to enjoy with Luke more often.

“I should start a band, I always wanted to — my father would love that.” You’d approached the cabins from the back, and the two of you had stopped near the rear wall, still hidden away out of sight and earshot.

“You don’t strike me as the type to ask your father for permission,” He said, leaning against the wood panelled wall.

“Oh, so now you think you know me?” You raised an eyebrow, standing opposite to him with your back to the woods.

“I’m getting there,” He replied, and his earnestness caught you off guard. You talked through your nerves.

“The only thing people know about me is that I’m ‘scary’.”

“Yeah, well, I’m no picnic either.” The tension crept back again as you looked at each other, but Luke pushed through it. “So, what’s with your dad? Pain in the ass?”

“No,” You conceded, “He just wants me to be someone I’m not.”

“Who?”

“Silena.” You couldn’t help the edge of bitterness that infiltrated your voice, and Luke suddenly understood a lot more about you.

“No offence or anything, I mean, I know everyone’s obsessed with your sister. But… she’s not all that.” You stared at him, unable to withhold the small smile that had crept onto your lips. No one had ever said that before.

“You know, you’re not as vile as I thought you were.” You leaned in, eyes fluttering closed. You could feel Luke’s hot breath mixing with yours, and another fraction of an inch and you’d be…

Luke’s hands were on your shoulders suddenly, softly moving the two of you apart.

“Maybe we should do this another time,” He said. Your eyes opened with a start, and you could feel red hot blush unfurling up your neck and onto your cheeks. In an instant your hardened expression was back more than ever, and you stomped past him up to your cabin, humiliation churning in your stomach, replacing any alcohol that might’ve lingered as you suddenly felt stone cold sober.

Luckily Silena and your younger siblings were all asleep by the time you returned, and the older ones were all off doing who-knows-what, so you effectively had the cabin to yourself. When you lay down in your bunk, makeup still on and shoes barely kicked off, you sobbed. You cried like you hadn’t in a long time, feeling stupid and ridiculous and hardly like a daughter of Aphrodite. You could only imagine what your mother would think of the mortifying display, and cried even harder.

[g1rld1ary]

camp counselor!james potter x reader 2

wc: 1989

cw: swearing, nothing

prev

TAG: @lovemenotts

Camp had started in full swing, as expected. You’d spent the whole day jumping from task to task; handing out bandaids, sorting out friendship dramas (how were there already dramas when the kids had been there twenty minutes?) and introducing yourself to the new campers. Things were going smoothly until dinner had finished and the whole camp was packed into the underdeveloped amphitheatre, ready for a night of singing and speeches.

You and James had commenced the evening with an official welcome, only one or two undermining comments on each side. James’ performative traits could come in handy but they annoyed you to no end, resulting in several pointed elbows when he ventured too far off track and approached stand-up territory.

“So what’d you think?” He asked after you’d started off the music for the night, hot on your tail.

“I think you need to fall out of love with yourself a little,” You quipped, not sparing much of a look at him.

“C’mon, you’re so convinced I’m not taking this seriously but I didn’t mess it up at all!” He whined, tailing you as you weaved your way over to the cabin group you were in charge of. There was one girl missing but you weren’t too worried, the seating arrangements weren’t mandatory, it just tended to happen on the first night of camp.

“You didn’t mess up but you are bloody annoying,” You hissed before switching on your smile as you sat down next to your campers, shooing James away to do the same. He gave a two-fingered salute and turned on his heel, you couldn’t tell if the action was sarcastic or not.

The night played on, featuring sing-alongs to 2000s classics and performances from some of the musically inclined counselors. You were even treated to a comedy set by a few fourteen-year-olds (dumb jokes that you all laughed at anyway — you were just glad they were all clean as you’d reiterated at least six times).

From behind you, you felt a tug on your shirt. A camper was leaning over to you from his seat, eyes glancing all over the place.

“There’s a girl crying near the toilets,” He said.

“What? Who? Why?” You couldn’t help the questions tumbling from your mouth. The boy shrugged.

“Dunno. She had purple glasses. Dunno.” God, sometimes you just loved kids and how insightful they could be. You did, however, know who he was talking about. Your missing camper, it was her first night at camp and so you had an inkling of why she might be crying. You thanked the boy for letting you know and climbed out of the bench seat, weaving past campers and counselors alike.

You were preparing your best soothing methods when you approached the toilet block only to find your camper wasn’t alone. Or crying very much at all. Instead, she was wiping the tears off her cheeks as she giggled at whatever James Potter was telling her, curled up next to her against the wood-panelled wall.

You stopped in your tracks to observe the pair. James’ glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose slightly, but he made no move to fix it as he gestured wildly, clearly telling some ridiculous, exaggerated story of camps gone by. Below his natural aptitude for entertaining, though, was something softer. The way he’d glance at the girl, Gracie, between every sentence to gauge her changing mood. The comforting pat to her knee or shoulder when she made a reply or sniffled.

You’d seen James as a counselor before, obviously. You’d both been in camp since you were around eight years old and had progressed at about the same rate; becoming general counselors the same year and then moving up to head counselor. So you knew at some level that James was theoretically mature and responsible and good with kids. Not that the ‘good with kids’ part was necessarily in doubt before — everyone at camp certifiably adored him, but you thought that was because he was loud and interesting and funny. Now you could see that it was because he was soft. James Potter was warm, sunlight on a lazy afternoon, he was affectionate and he cared. That’s why everyone loved him. Though the loud, funny and interesting thing certainly helped his case.

You began to feel like a bit of a creep just watching them and approached, coughing to make your presence known before sitting down in front of the two, not caring about how your denim cutoffs would have dirt on them when you stood up. James looked up with wide eyes and it almost seemed like he was glad to see you, though that didn’t make much sense.

“What’s going on here?”

“Gracie’s feeling a bit homesick, she’s never been away from home before,” James explained for you, still rubbing a comforting hand up her arm. You figured that was the case. Gracie was eleven, still just a baby.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked her, “I’m your cabin leader.” Gracie hesitated then looked up at James.

“She’s a little afraid of you,” He stage whispered and your mouth dropped open.

“Me? I’m not scary, am I?” You played for the crowd, exaggerating your gestures to appear less threatening and accusatory. Clearly, the two had had more of a heart-to-heart than you initially thought as James answered for her once again.

“You have to admit you’re a bit intimidating, love. You command attention, you’re scarily organised and you’re a little bossy.” He trailed off into a joking tone and you rolled your eyes.

“Firstly, don’t call me ‘love’, Potter, it’s unprofessional. Secondly… I guess you have a point — not about me being bossy though. I’m not bossy.” You directed the last sentence at Gracie at the same time that James teased you for ‘being delusional’. Gracie giggled though, the last of her tears drying up. You caught James’ eye for a fraction of a second, just enough to convey the agreement that whatever you were doing was working.

“What can I do to make you less afraid of me?” You asked her and James answered once more.

“I’m already on it, actually. I was just telling Gracie here about the time you tried the obstacle course four years ago.” You groaned dramatically, covering your face in very real embarrassment.

“You are so terrible,” You whined, “That was honestly my most humiliating camp moment. I was so cocky and had the most over-the-top trash-talk known to man, then wiped out on the first obstacle.” You couldn’t help but join in with James’ laughter, and Gracie wasn’t far behind, girlish giggles far higher in pitch than yours or James’.

“Really?” She asked when she could catch a breath.

“Really,” You affirmed, “It was a total wipeout too, I went sliding right through the mud and was covered head to toe in front of the whole camp. I couldn’t get the mud out of my hair for days! I’m sure James still has some of the photos hidden away somewhere. I definitely learnt my lesson about getting too arrogant that day.”

“I definitely do,” James agreed, sticking his tongue out when you made an offended face.

“Will we get to do the obstacle course this summer?” Gracie asked, boundless enthusiasm growing in her eyes.

“Absolutely we will! Maybe we’ll even get this one to participate again.” James cocked his head in your direction.

“No, no, no. I swore on that day I would never embarrass myself like that again,” You hid behind a laugh, not wanting to admit how much the incident haunted you.

“Please, you have to!” Gracie all but squealed, clapping excitedly. You pretended to consider it for a moment, then gave your most diplomatic answer.

“Maybe. It’ll take some serious convincing though.”

When you were sure Gracie was thoroughly convinced you ushered the three of you back in the direction of the amphitheatre. Gracie ran ahead, becoming eager to rejoin the camp traditions that you and James had successfully talked up. You and James dawdled behind, not quite so pressured to return to the event you’d experienced so many times.

James threw an arm around your shoulder, forcing you to adopt his step pattern.

“We make a pretty good team, don’t you think?” He asked, just a hint too cocksure for your liking.

“You wish, Potter,” You stuck your tongue out childishly. After a beat of silence, you softened, “You did good today. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Was that a compliment?” He asked, smile growing wide across his face. You almost felt the need to cover your eyes, the blinding shine illuminating the dirt path ahead of you.

“Yeah, don’t get used to them,” You grumbled, trying to pull away but James just held on to you tighter, practically pushing his weight onto you as you tried to keep your path straight.

“You’re warming up to me,” He sang. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might fall out. Not wanting to lead the conversation to any sappy territory you changed the subject.

“Did you really have to tell her about the obstacle course?”

“I knew you wouldn’t mind, not really. Did you want me to tell her about the first time we all got drunk instead?” You shook your head violently fast, the memory bringing colour to your cheeks even years later.

“Alright, moment over!” You ducked away from his hold on you, conveniently in time for you both to approach the amphitheatre and presumptuous eyes again. James followed a few steps behind, a dumb grin on his face you didn’t catch.

“So there was a moment?” He called, just quiet enough that it didn’t attract attention from the campers. You stopped to turn back to him, making sure he could see you rolling your eyes. Yet, you reluctantly returned the handshake he initiated — a dumb, overly intricate routine you made up in the rare instances he wasn’t completely annoying or making fun of you when you were both twelve — a silent agreement that you’d done something good together, a suggestion that maybe working with him wouldn’t be as infuriating as you assumed.

“Already falling for James?” Lily asked that night, safe in her corner of the cabin. If it didn’t require getting out from under the cozy covers you would have hit her.

“The fuck are you talking about, Evans?” You snapped with no ferocity, pulling small laughs from the other girls in the room.

“We saw you returning from a suspicious time out in the woods. What heinous acts are you two committing in there?” Marlene added with a teasing lilt. You wished they could see you rolling your eyes.

“For your information, we were comforting one of my girls. She just ran ahead and you know I don’t do running in the dark.”

“And yet, you didn’t look like you hated Potter with the heat of a thousand suns?”

“He did a good job, it’s whatever. He’s softer than I am.”

“Until now because you’re falling for him and you’re gonna be in love by the end of the summer,” Dorcas sang gleefully. You protested loudly before giving up, three against one too much for you to handle at that time of night. You punctuated the end of the conversation with a decisive flip to face the wall, bringing your blanket with you. You ignored the lingering giggles in favour of sleep, apparently the only place you could avoid talk of James Potter.