Pjo X Reader - Blog Posts

ladydigianna

8 months ago

who i write for

Harry Potter Universe:

Golden Trio Era:

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Enzo Berkshire

Mattheo Riddle

Blaise Zabini

Theodore Nott

Pansy Parkinson

Ginny Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Oliver Wood

Marcus Flint

Terrence Higgs

Marauders Era:

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Lily Evans

Regulus Black

Pandora Rosier

Evan Rosier

Barty Crouch Jr.

Dorcas Meadows

Marlene McKinnon

Molly Prewett

Arthur Weasley

Lucius Malfoy

Narcissa Black

Bellatrix Black

Rodolphus Lestrange

Rabastan Lestrange

Ted Tonks

Andromeda Black

Riddle Era:

Tom Riddle

Abraxas Malfoy

Eileen Prince

Tobias Snape

Orion Black

Walburga Black

Euphemia

Fleamont Potter

Riordanverse:

Percy Jackson

Annabeth Chase

Grover Underwood

Clarisse La Rue

Zoe Nightshade

Thalia Grace

Will Solace

Nico di Angelo

Silena Beauregard

Charles Beckendorf

Luke Castellan

Leo Valdez

Jason Grace

Piper McLean

Disney Descendants:

Mal

Evie

Ben

Jay

Carlos

Audrey

Chad

Uma

Harry Hook

Gil

Chloe

Red

Bridget

Ella

James Hook

Morgie

Uliana

Hades

Maleficent

The Umbrella Academy:

Luther Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Allison Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves (Umbrella and Sparrow)

Viktor Hargreeves

Sloane Hargreeves

Fei Hargreeves

Alphonso Hargreeves

Haikyuu:

All Characters

The School For Good and Evil

Sophie

Agnes

Tedros

Hort

Beatrix

Anadil

Chinen

Hester

Dot

Kiko

My Hero Academia

Izuku Midoriya

Bakugo Katsuki

Kirishima Ejiro

Denki Kaminari

Sero Hanta

Mina Ashido

Iida Tenya

Ochako Uraraka

Momo Yaoyarozu

Shoto Todorki

Aizawa Shouta

Present Mic

Midnight

Endeavor

CBS Ghosts

Isaac Higgintoot

Nigel Chisum

Trevor

Hetty

Flower

Thorfinn

Stephanie

Pete

Formula 1

Max Verstappen

Lando Norris

Charles Leclerc

Oscar Piastri

Carlos Sainz

Lewis Hamilton

George Russell

Lance Stroll

Yuki Tsunoda

Alex Albon

Daniel Ricciardo

Pierre Gasly

Oliver Bearman

Fernando Alonso

Mark Webber

Jenson Button

Kimi Raikonnen

Hellaverse

Blitz

Millie and Moxxie (will not write for them separately)

Loona

Octavia

Stolas

Stolitz

Fizzarolli

Asmodeus

Fizzmodeus

Mammon

Satan

Vassago

Andrealphus

Striker

Charlie Morningstar

Vaggie

Angel Dust

Alastor (no smut, he is ace)

Husk

Huskerdust

Lucifer Morningstar

Adam

Valentino

Vox

Velvette

The Vees (poly)

Zestial

Rosie

Sir Pentious

Saint Peter

sure thing.

“Hey, firecracker,” a voice—unmistakable, to you, at least —calls from behind, and you instantly knew who it was. “Need to talk to you.”

There was only one person that would call you that nickname. Luke Castellan, the bane of your existence, thought it was extremely funny to remind you of that one time you almost burnt down the pavilion. The moment they figured out it was you; you had earned the nickname you dreaded so much. He loved reminding you of embarrassing stuff you did. You desperately wanted to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face. What did he even want? Didn’t he have something better to do than to bother you?

He leaned against one of the posts in the arena, eyebrows raised expectantly. He just needed a change from training the newbies. He wanted to go all out, and the best person to do that with was sadly you. Well, at least the satisfaction he’d get from beating you—because he would beat you, obviously, was totally worth it.

You sighed, “What?”

“Need a sparring partner, that's all,” he said, a smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips, now accompanied by a raised eyebrow. “And I'd rather have you than anyone in this camp.”

“That sounded too nice for your standards... Are you that desperate?” Your eyes narrowed; you were skeptical.

“Desperate to beat your ass, yes," he said, an easy laugh breaking past the steely look on his face. Luke was aware of the fact that he often annoyed you, and maybe he liked it just a little. "Besides, I wanna try some new sword techniques I came up with. So, whaddya say? Pretty please?" His head tilted a little when he said that, he was giving you that look.

You were silent, biting your lips just like you always did when you were focused. After a moment, you gave in. “Fine,” you said. Maybe you’d benefit from this, too.

"That’s my girl," he said as he casually walked toward you. "I promise not to go easy on you. If you feel like you're gonna trip and impale yourself with my sword, just say the word, alright?" A smirk flitted past his lips, though his words seemed genuine enough. Luke knew you would never stop being rivals. But the feeling of respect he had for you was real. He trusted you and even cared for you, but he’d rather commit war crimes than admit that.

“Fuck you,” you spat as you got into your signature fighting stance. Maybe this was a mistake, but if you gave up already, he’d think you’d gotten cold feet.

“If you ask nicely.”

That smug bastard. You hated him with all your heart. You hated his stupid smile and the way he made everyone around him feel comfortable, even you. You hated the butterflies he gave you. You hated his guts.

With a smooth slashing motion towards his torso, you started the fight. He blocked it with ease. Without a further word, Luke went in towards you with a quick and precise strike, sword arm extended forward in a tight grip with the tip aimed towards your sternum. He wanted to overwhelm you, thinking you hadn’t improved since the last time you sparred. But oh, was he wrong.

You’ve been watching him, his rather aggressive style of fighting, and the look in his eyes when he tried a certain move for a long time now. You’ve fought him many times before, and you were getting the hang of it. You’ve been training a lot, and while he was busy with the new campers, you had developed your own, unique fighting style. He knew you as a pretty good fighter, who could almost keep up with him on a good day. Almost. But now, you’d surpass his expectations. You blocked his hit, your body moving smoothly like liquid. Instead of using all your strength to try and withstand his attacks, you just gave in. Let loose. You used the force of his hit and channeled it, transferring it into your own with ease. He did not see that coming.

You'd always had a strong sense of intuition and your body would respond accordingly, as if it had a mind of its own. Luke was quick to counter, his body leaning back with a fluid motion to avoid any of your quick strikes, all the while trying to find an opening. The back-and-forth movement that was once just a spar has now become a deadly dance of swords, the two of you constantly in motion, no pause in sight. There is a certain excitement in the air, almost a spark that has ignited your mutual hostility and aggression.

Your movements were fluid as if you could predict all of Luke's moves in advance. You were a master of timing, of anticipating all of the demigod's strikes. Not once could he match your fluidity, his movements jerky compared to your graceful flow. There was something about the way you both fought so elegantly that made you feel like you were part of an agile performance, each of you matching the other's movements perfectly. It felt less like a fight and more like an art.

Yet even as you moved with effortless ease, the clash of swords kept you both on your toes, your bodies moving in such perfect sync that neither could find a flaw in the other's defense. Your movements almost appeared as if you were both working together, but this was not the case—in fact, Luke was becoming more frustrated by the second as he strained to find a way to slip past your guard.

“You’ve improved,” he breathed out while you fought. “I like it.” The way he said that sent shivers up your spine. It was embarrassing how these words affected you so hard that you made a small mistake. It was a mistake that could happen to even the best swordsmen in history, but a mistake nonetheless. And it led to his sword held at your throat. You fucked up. And he made you feel it, the cold tip of his sword gently tapping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You prayed that he didn’t notice the color on your cheeks.

“You're distracted too easily.” He looked serious for once, that glint of smugness had left his eyes for just a moment. “I win again.” And there it was again, that stupid smile of his. He dropped his sword and held out a hand to help you up. You let him pull you up, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Did you get what you wanted out of this fight?” You asked, and he nodded. “Much better than trying to teach the newbies not to drop their swords while fighting.”

“Good,” you turned to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist. “Same time tomorrow?”

You could’ve said no, could’ve walked away, could’ve done ANYTHING, but instead, you looked at him and said, “Sure thing.”