anthony lockwood x reader
summary: you, a member of quill kipps' agency, end up in your flat with lockwood and co. after a strange encounter at the fittes at 50 ball. an apparition and a kiss may alter your relationship with the agency for forever.
tags: oneshot-ish, fem!reader, fittes/kipps' team!reader
word count: 1.7k
Pictures Of You
“Well, look what we have here,” said Kipps cheerfully. In a sarcastic way, of course. Your team took a few steps forward in unison. You had to pretend you weren’t stunned by the joke of the agency standing in front of you. Anthony Lockwood & Co.
The first time you met was a funny situation, to say the least. You were new to Kipps’ team and had an encounter that only humbled and embarrassed him. Lockwood stuck his rapier into the ceiling with a cocky grin stapled to his face.
You later learned that that cocky grin was always stapled to his face. It was no different tonight. “Kipps, really, I know you fancy me, but stalking’s a bit much, yeah?” He and his chubby teammate chuckled. You had to admit, he was quick-witted. And quite hilarious at that. You almost laughed as well. However, you weren’t trying to get fired. Not by Quill Kipps of all people.
The truth is, you hated your job, your coworkers, everything about your work life (or life in general). However, it was your only source of income, and being fired by one of (if not the) best agencies in the country wasn’t a great look for future employers.
“In your wildest dreams, Anthony.” He said his name like a slur. It was odd hearing it, his first name. He was just one of those people whose last name owned them. It was their identity. It was a similar thing with Kipps.
You looked past the backs of your teammates, your leader, and at Lockwood. He had a look in his eye; their agency clearly knew something. You everted your gaze back to the patchy grass on the ground.
“Is she a new member?” The chubby boy in a puffer and circular glasses asked. Was he speaking about you? Sure, yeah, you were relatively new. But at least a couple of weeks at this point. “She’s got that innocent look, cute.”
“George!” The girl agent shouted at him with a clang of her rapier as she turned to him, then you in one quick motion. Was that his name?
Kat gave you a look. You suspected something similar happened when she joined the team. Maybe this was some sort of hazing. You only rolled your eyes.
“Right, team, come on then.” Kipps started, turning around and facing the rest of you. “We’d better go; it stinks over here.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the same time as Ned. You quickly straightened your face and followed Kipps as he started ahead of the group. As you all moved on, you heard the other agency giggling and chatting with each other. You could only dream of a team as close and friendly. It was almost sad how silent missions and research could be. It was entirely sad, though, that you had zero friends. No one on your team really spoke to you, nobody who neighbored you in your flat, nobody at work. You wondered what it would be like to be in a tight-knit agency, one where you were just as much coworkers as you were friends. You looked back for a moment at the trio, then suddenly faced forward again as you felt a pair of eyes.
-
As you opened the newspaper, you noticed three familiar faces. George Cubbins, Lucy Carlyle, and Anthony Lockwood. You just stared at the picture of them for a moment before turning towards the window of your flat. It was raining outside. Despite the inconvenience of it when it came to work, you loved the rain.
You looked through the rest of your mail: junk, junk, and an invitation? A party. You sighed. It was the upcoming Fittes at 50 Ball. Gosh, tonight? Couldn’t they have sent this out earlier? You got up and stepped over to your closet, looking for a suitable dress. You settled on really your only dress. A light green, floor-length, silk gown. You hated it. You only had the damn thing because of an aunt’s or cousin’s wedding or something. You picked the invitation card up again, checking the time: 8 o’clock. Then, you checked your watch: 4 o’clock. You had four hours to find your missing heels, take a shower, and get ready for this party.
Opening your polka-dot umbrella, you stepped outside of the apartment complex and into a yellow taxi. The driver took you to the one and only Fittes agency building. Luckily, the rain had slowed down as you were entering the party, and there was no need for your umbrella anymore, but still, you brought it in. There was no doubt it would start back up again.
Through the large doors, you watched the bustling crowd. High society conversing. Shrimp and champagne. Fancy dresses and tuxedos. This was the last place you wanted to be tonight, but how could you skip it? You’d be nothing less than interrogated by Kipps on Monday. This was the easier thing to do.
“There you are,” an almost familiar voice spoke to you. You turned to your right almost in unison with their words. And suddenly the realization hit you. It was definitely somebody you knew. But it was still surprising, nonetheless. Anthony Lockwood. Why on earth would he insinuate he was looking for you? There you are? What did that even mean? “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”
“Excuse me?” The only thing you could process right then was complete confusion. You looked him in his dark, tired eyes.
“Come on,” he said, turning and grasping your wrist. You followed as he led you through the crowd. “You’re Y/N, right? On Kipps’ team?” You agreed as you rushed past the strangers that flooded the floor. “Good, it’d be awkward if you weren’t, right?” You couldn’t help but laugh. As much as you tried to dislike the agency, on behalf of your own, you had to admit, he was certainly witty.
Finally, you were stopped and greeted by his two other agents. “Do you mind explaining what the bloody hell is going on?”
“Right. Well, we believe you’re in danger.”
You could only give the three of them a confused look. “I haven’t got time for nonsense. My boss is here, throwing this party. I can’t get fired tonight.” You tried walking away, but were held back by Lockwood once again.
“We’re serious. We have reason to believe there is a type three source. In your flat.”
You laughed in their faces. “That’s rich. Then how do you explain my presence? Wouldn’t I be dead by now? And ‘reason to believe’ is not proof. Again, I haven’t got time for nonsense.” You attempted to walk away again, only to be stopped again.
-
Before you knew it, you were back in your flat, in the green dress you hated, looking for a source with an agency you were supposed to hate. Apparently, while unraveling a case, George, doing research, found exactly what they were looking for led to your very apartment. You raised your rapier as you and Carlyle circled the living room, George examined the bathroom, and Lockwood examined your compact kitchen.
Suddenly, a scream came from your cramped bathroom. “What is it? Did you find something?”
“Well, I certainly found something…”
“A tampon? Really? Gosh, you’re crazy; I thought you found a ghost.”
Suddenly, Lockwood chimed in, peeping his head out from the kitchen. “Let’s just get back to work, yeah? Arguing won’t do us any go— HOLY SHIT!”
You all ran about only three steps over to Lockwood. “What?! What is it?!” The three of you questioned together before seeing the apparition come together.
A blue and silver familiar figure looked you in the eye, whispering something. Lucy swallowed. Could she hear it? You had never seen a ghost so clearly before. You were particularly gifted in touch, rather than sight or listening. She still gaped at you. It was like staring at a real person. A person you knew. “Iron!” Lockwood shouted, and George threw an iron chain onto the ground as Lucy and you raised your rapiers only higher.
“Where’s the source?” You shouted in fear, glancing at Lockwood for a second before looking back at the apparition.
“I’m not entirely sure yet. Lucy and I will hold it off whilst you look around. Quickly. We haven’t got much time.” You followed his orders, rushing towards the counter, searching for something, anything, that could be a source. What did a type three source even look like? Was it any different than a one or two? Then it hit you. The face was familiar, because you knew her. You opened your cup cabinet, grabbing all of your grandmother’s old teacups you’d gotten. One by one, you started smashing them on the ground. Then it went quiet. The ghost was gone.
“You found it?” Lucy asked, breathing heavily. “The teacups?”
“They were my grandmother’s.” You looked down at your feet. “That was my grandmother.”
All three of Lockwood & Co. turned simultaneously with eyes bulging and jaws dropping.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” you admitted, opening the door. They walked out, smiling, saying no worries. It was now almost pouring out. You looked out the window as they slowly made it out of the building, walking to the corner to catch a taxi home. But Lockwood stayed outside your building. Staring at your window. Without thinking, you grabbed a jacket and slipped it on quickly as you could while you rushed down the fire exit of your flat and into the street, greeting Lockwood.
You ran out into the street, facing him finally. You breathed heavily, tired from the sprint downstairs. Locking eyes with him, you thanked him again. “Really, Lockwood, thank y—”
His lips met yours. He pulled away for a moment, both of you smiling. “Call me Anthony.” You kissed again, under the rain. His hand at the back of your head, the space between the two of you disappearing. As you felt his soft lips, you only craved more. It felt like you were the only people in all of London. You almost tasted his hungry tongue until…
“Lockwood, you stud!” George shouted from 100 meters away in the street, under an umbrella with Lucy. You and Anthony pulled apart, laughing. You smiled at one another, and you stepped back from him and toward the front door of your complex.
slytherin boys x reader.
contains - draco malfoy, blaise zabini, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire, mattheo riddle.
- popular fancasts/actors vs. my personal fancasts.
- headcanons i adore/have myself.
- songs that make me think of them
Draco Malfoy
Training Wheels - Melanie Martinez
- 🍏. Draco who cares so deeply for you. If he hasn't seen you all day, without making a fuss of it, he asks around for you. Once he finally gets a hold of you, he clings onto you like a baby.
- 🍏. Draco who is practically attached to your hip when out in public. He holds your hand, your waist, your shoulder.
- 🍏. Draco who gets extremely jealous when other men show affection or even speak to you. If a man hits you up, maybe asks for your number, he goes crazy inside, but steps in, touching your body, showing them you're all his.
- 🍏. Draco who, despite his rough, maybe even scary exterior, has a huge soft spot for you. In public, may seem distant or cold, but once you've come home, can't stop complimenting you.
- 🍏. Draco who takes quidditch incredibly serious, but for some reason, can't take his eyes off of you when you come to a match.
Movie Casting - Tom Felton
My Fan Casting - Lucas Bergvall
Blaise Zabini
Call It What You Want - Taylor Swift
- 🌲. Blaise who is so playful, witty, and sarcastic. The funniest boy you know, and never fails to make you laugh.
- 🌲. Blaise who has a cocky grin always stapled onto his face. After he makes some quick, smug comment, he hits you with it. Definitely gives you butterflies too.
- 🌲. Blaise who is really a sucker for cuddles. He's cool and calm in public, but when you're spending time together in bed, he's wrapped around you, big-spooning.
- 🌲. Blaise who is incredibly quick-witted, for better or for worse. Tries to make a good impression on your family by being funny, whether they appreciate it or not.
- 🌲. Blaise who, like the other boys, is a pureblood, but, he differs from them with having a super posh, kind of Cambridge or Queen's English accent.
Movie Casting - Louis Cordice (my man forever💚)
My Fan Casting - Mukasa Kakonge & Jude Bellingham
Theodore Nott
cliche - 2hollis
- 💸. Theodore who smokes every chance he gets, often skipping Potions class to sneak out and smoke a pack without getting caught. When he does, he's the laughing stock of the group for a week.
- 💸. Theodore who may get in fights every so often, and is quite stubborn when you tell him to quit it. + caring for his wounds.
- 💸. Theodore who licks his lips more often than not, truly making you anxious. Especially when kissing or checking you out he pulls this move.
- 💸. Theodore who usually dresses casual, but when he dresses up, he looks astounding. (his Slytherin tie suits him well).
- 💸. Theodore who is an only child, and may not understand the quarrels you might have with your siblings, but loves to comfort you when family drama becomes too crazy.
Popular Fan Casting - Lorenzo Zurzolo
My Fan Casting - literally cannot imagine him any other way. Zurzolo all day.
Lorenzo Berkshire
Risk - Gracie Abrams
- ☘. Lorenzo who, like Blaise can always be seen with a huge grin on his face, and may not always be able to read the room in a serious setting. Often making jokes of it to push away awkwardness.
- ☘. Lorenzo who loves to kiss you. Randomly, all over. In public, often on your forehead or hand, maybe lightly pecking your cheeks every so often. (he's so rom-com coded).
- ☘. Lorenzo who despite being purblood, is super into football. It confuses the group, but he goes crazy during World Cup season.
- ☘. Lorenzo who loves to bring you flowers. The spring season is his favorite, because it has the most fresh and beautiful flowers for you.
- ☘. Lorenzo who when visiting your house or meeting your parents will over do it. Bringing flowers for your mum, complimenting the house decor, etc.
Popular Fan Casting - Louis Partridge
My Fan Casting - Alain Delon (SO fine + gives similar vibe)
Mattheo Riddle
Feel Something - Clairo
- 🫒. Mattheo who is more mellow than the others, more distant even. But when you finally crack his shell, he's actually very sweet. Only for you.
- 🫒. Mattheo who is often found in detention for cutting classes, being out of bounds, or general rule breaking. Definitely uses magic during summer holiday, knowing full well it's strictly prohibited. Kind of gets away with it because of his dad.
- 🫒. Mattheo who is constantly getting into fights, usually being the one who starts them. Not even magic either, full-on fist fighting. May or may not win them all, but surely is bruised up afterwards.
- 🫒. Mattheo who is a big teaser, jokingly or intimately. Whispering either the sweetest of sweet nothings, or the dirtiest of dirty remarks in your ears.
- 🫒. Mattheo who never believed in love before meeting and ultimately falling for you. He never received it, growing up with no parents, thought it cliche, but now knows it's real with you.
Popular Fan Casting - Benjamin Wadsworth
My Fan Casting - Carter Harvey & Devon Bostick
blaise zabini x reader
summary: after watching (moreso reading your book at) his practice, blaise and you share an intimate kiss. then you guys hang out in his dorm... he's such a cuddlebug imo.
tags: fem!reader, one shot, non-magi hogwarts??, soccer/football not quidditch, fluffy, lime, kissing.
word count: 1.3k
So Highschool
I sat on the cold, silver bleachers. They were hard and uncomfortable on my butt. In the distance, I spotted him. Blaise Zabini. Co-captain of the varsity football team. He was quick, a great player. The silver number fifteen on the back of his emerald jersey shone in the daylight. Moments passed, and all the boys huddled up together. Their coach said something short to them, then quickly threw the ball over. The blond number seven ran over to it first, the rest following close behind.
Draco Malfoy passed the ball back and forth to Blaise and two other boys whose names I did not know. Despite all the others, my eyes were only fixed on Blaise. The boy I (gratefully) got to call my boyfriend. I smiled. He looked over my way, bringing his hand up over his eyes, blocking the sun. He waved. My smile only grew as I waved back at him. He stuck up six fingers at me with two hands. I suppose that meant he had six minutes left of practice.
Ten minutes later, the team left the pitch. I had planned to be bored and brought a book with me. I was right, and did get some good reading in. “Hey, beautiful.” I looked up from the page and was greeted by Blaise’s brown eyes appearing golden in the sort of setting sun. He smiled at me.
He really looked handsome. His jersey perfectly hugged his muscular physique, sweat dripping down the side of his face and arms. He held his black duffel bag in one hand and his small, empty water bottle in the other. Veins sort of popped out of his forearm, I guess from the weight of his bag. The short sleeves of his shirt were higher on his arms than they should be, only making his biceps look better.
“Any good?” He asked, referring to my book, as he sat down close beside me. I closed it at this, handing it to him so he could look, because I knew that was what he would ask next. He looked down at it, checking it out.
“Yeah,” I responded. “Pretty interesting, but I’m only so far into it.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“What?”
“Read.”
We both laughed. It was quite funny, though. How different we were. Blaise Zabini: sporty, popular, smug. Me: shy, bookish, timid. But we did complement each other well. ‘Opposites attract,’ as his mother would say. I looked up at him, and our eyes met, as he was already looking at me before I bobbed my head up. “How was your practice?” I asked, changing the subject, as books weren’t exactly his best topic.
“Good, good.” He said, smiling and leaning closer to me. “I think we’re set for the match Saturday next. You’re still planning on coming, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I smiled back, leaning in for a kiss. As our lips met, I suddenly thought of my breath. Did I stink? Gosh, way to ruin the moment for myself.
Suddenly, as if he read my mind, Blaise broke apart from me and spoke. “Damn, you’re perfect.” My hands held the back of his sweaty neck, lightly playing with his kinky curls. His hair was rarely overgrown; he typically kept it always the same. However, it’s been longer these days, less of a fade and now more of a regular short hairdo. He licked his lips, and I nearly fainted until he resumed the kiss. His full lips were always so smooth. The last kiss was sweet and romantic, but suddenly it felt hungry, bold. Blaise advanced onto me, aggressively, slowly thrusting his tongue into my mouth. My hand on his chest forced me away from him, his hot breath hugging me. “Blaise,” I whimpered, “we can’t. Not here.”
“Then stop.”
“I can’t...”
My words shook, and my lip quivered, aching for his touch again. Suddenly, Blaise pushed himself onto me again, putting my back onto the hard bleachers and his body above mine. His passionate kiss consumed me, and as our bodies moved, I felt the touch of his hard crotch. I longed for him. His lips. His touch. But I had it all. Right now.
His one arm pinned me against the bleacher, and the other explored my waist. I hated that I loved this. We’re out in the open. We shouldn’t be doing this. But anyway, we still did.
“What are you doing tonight?” He peered down at me as we walked back to the school building from the football pitch and track. His hand lightly grazed mine, and then like that, we were holding hands. I liked when he was affectionate like that. I looked up at him, and our eyes met. We simultaneously smiled at each other.
“Nothing, I don’t think. Finished my homework already.” Then I remembered… “Oh, I did want to get some good reading in though,” I added.
“Well, you can read in my dorm, can’t you?”
I checked my right arm for my watch. It was already almost half past seven. “A bit late for that, yeah?” As in, curfew was at eight. He chuckled and looked to the ground. I loved his laugh. Deep, but light-hearted. Often, but genuine.
“Yeah, yeah...” he started. “Dumbledore won’t know the difference.”
He knocked on the door to his dorm. I guess to check if his roommates were home. Luckily, no. Malfoy wasn’t the type to leave a note. (I assumed he was in a girl’s dorm). Nott, however, was. The back of the door was sticky-noted. With messy handwriting, it read: ‘In the kitchen… I’ll bring yous a chocolate. Be grateful, lads.’ He plucked it off the wall. “That’s a laugh.” I giggled with him.
“I’d like some,” I smiled as we climbed into bed.
“Good. Have some o’ mine.” He offered. “Not too into the sweets these days.” He patted his stomach lightly, “dieting, you know.”
We both laughed. He held my waist as we got situated under the covers. I pulled out my book from the bedside table I put there to get comfortable in bed. “Time to ignore your boyfriend, eh?”
“Oh shut it!” I hit him on the head lightly with the paperback. He jokingly rubbed his head like it hurt and squinted at me like I was cruel. He hugged my side loosely before he finally got up to have a shower. It was quick, and he came out in just his towel.
I wouldn’t have even noticed him coming out (since I was so into my book) if he hadn’t spoken. “You like what you see?” I did, in fact, like what I saw. His gorgeous, toned body, trickled with water droplets, leaned against the door. An off-white towel wrapped around his hips, low enough to see a (rather attractive) V-line. He smiled at me, and I could only smile back. He came back into bed, and I put my book down.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. “Dorm checks!” Yelled some old professor. Quickly, I hid under the covers. “Yeah, come in!” Blaise shouted loud enough for him to hear. “We’re all decent; it should be unlocked.”
“Where are your roommates?”
“In the bathroom, yeah. Brushin’ teeth.” Blaise struggled, as I thought it funny to tease him under his duvet. I traced my fingers on his inner thighs, slowly growing closer to his…
“All right. Behave.” The professor nodded and left, shutting the door. I came out from under the covers, giggling. He gave me an angry yet embarrassed look. “You twat!”
“Oh yeah?” I jumped onto him, lightly kissing his top lip. I then bit his bottom, and felt his tongue force its way into my mouth. Our kisses became longer and more sloppy, but no less heated or arousing.
I felt him rub onto me, and I could have just melted. “You like that?”
blaise zabini x reader
summary: blaise falls asleep next to you whilst you listen to the biggest love song of the year. cuddling and singing in bed during the cold winter.
tags: imagine, fluff, 80's au, fem!reader
word count: 333
Every Breath You Take
Muffled, The Police’s new hit quietly played on Blaise’s old, almost busted radio. He slept peacefully next to me. His steady breath was matched with soft whispers of something inaudible. I like to imagine sweet nothings, like what he’d say to me when he was awake. But he always did sort of mumble in his sleep. I found it very endearing, honestly. Maybe it had to do with what he was dreaming of. Was it about me? I suppose I could ask him when he was up. But that takes the rush of happiness you get out of it.
‘How my poor heart aches…’
The slow song continued. It all felt quite romantic. The smell of pine and cedar from the harsh winters we faced at Hogwarts. The low light of a small candle in the corner of his bedside table. And, of course, the quiet tunes of his radio. I believe Blaise once admitted that it used to be his father’s. He must’ve found it in the attic of that mansion. Or manor. I (unfortunately) am not familiar with the terms wealthy people choose to speak about their comically large houses with.
‘With every step you take…’
Then, I placed a soft, warm kiss on his cheek. As I placed my head on his chest, his arm wrapped around me. Either he was just faking being really asleep, or he did it subconsciously. Whichever one, it was really sweet. Our breaths matched. In unison, we exhaled, and I smelt the peppermint of his toothpaste he just used, and chamomile and honey from my tea I also just finished.
Slowly, I whispered along to the lyrics, thinking of Blaise, and him only. Maybe I imagined it, but I felt his cool gaze on me. Or perhaps it was just the sweet warmth I felt when he was near me.
‘Every move…’
‘And every vow…’
‘Every smile…’
‘Every claim…’
And I swear I heard him sing it along with me. ‘I’ll be watching you…’
anthony lockwood x lucy carlyle
summary: last night lockwood & co. got into some trouble. holly saved lucy, and although she's grateful, she feels sick to her stomach. especially about lockwood. loosely based on a chapter from the hollow boy.
tags: characterxcharacter, one shot, angst
word count: 1k
What's Wrong With Me
That day, I could barely get out of bed. I think I woke up at about 10 o’clock in the morning. I didn’t get out of bed until nearly 3pm. I stared at the ceiling for hours. How could I be so stupid? I regretted everything that happened; not only was it all so stupid, but Lockwood was hurt. He was somehow more bedridden than me. The only difference was that it was forced upon him, and he couldn’t want anything more. I, on the other hand, had no excuse for bed-rotting all day, but I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t face the day. I couldn’t face him. What if he was mad at me? No, there’s no question. He most certainly is. I would be furious if I were him.
Only I wasn’t. Lockwood was much more mature than I was. He could handle mishaps in the agency. He handled it all really well. Other than jumping out of bed at any opportunity. Literally.
The time finally came when I was forced to see him. I took a glance at him and his room through the crack of his door. His room was so tidy. And oh, so un-Lockwood-like. I knocked at the side of the doorframe, not exactly asking permission to enter, but really just letting him know I would. One way or another. Don’t test that theory.
“You look well.” I smiled at him. He rolled his eyes at this, but I noticed the corners of his lips upturned, showing his ‘yeah, yeah, good one, Carlyle’ smile. I’ve gotten used to this face. Mostly because I can’t help but give him constant sarcastic jokes. “Really, how are you holding up?” I inquired of him. Truth is, he really didn’t look well. He looked awful. His right leg was above the duvet, bandaged, and his left arm was in a sling. He honestly looked pathetic. I know that bothered him. Terribly.
“I’m just alright…” he looked down at the blue and white striped cover. He was half-sitting up, half-lying down. His loose yet tight black shirt hugged his torso well. Despite his condition, he still looked fairly handsome. Just as I imagined this morning in bed. He looked back up at me. “It’s you that I’m worried about.”
Was he worried about me? Obviously, he just said he was. But in the way I hoped? No, I don’t hope anything. Pay attention, Lucy, he’s talking to you.
“Me? I’m not the one in 100,000 Band-Aids.”
He laughed. “You certainly like to joke, Lucy. But seriously, how are you? Sleep well? Eat good breakfast?”
Truthfully, I wasn’t well. I slept horribly last night, but that suggests I slept at all. I skipped breakfast, and, given the time, I was about to miss the lunch cut-off. I hadn’t eaten all day. How could I? I was thinking too much. “I’m fine,” I whispered, looking down at my feet, ashamed of lying to him.
“Sorry-”
“I said I was fine.”
Just like that, I was far enough away from Lockwood so my crying was out of earshot. Tears streamed down my face; I tried to mask my hiccuping in the bathroom. I’m so incredibly stupid. I really need to get a grip.
Suddenly, I heard the doorbell ring; George shouted, “I got it!” and Lockwood stormed down the stairs to see who it was. Lockwood? I wiped my face quickly and ran down the narrow, wooden stairs almost immediately after Lockwood. Despite George and I’s best efforts, he took the door. A new client. Well, it is best he do it than either George or me. But certainly not in his condition! He likes to say we can’t be trusted with them. But we can fight ghosts. Right.
The client seems quite obnoxious. Whole sob story. Of course, Holly was there, taking notes on the backstory. She thinks she’s just so great. So does Lockwood. I’m tired of him always boasting about her and then ridiculing me. Sure, she saved me last night. I would have done the same if the roles were reversed! In fact, I do save people. All the time. That’s why we’re in a ghost-hunting agency.
Sometimes I just feel so unwanted at Lockwood & Co. these days. It’s like Holly’s replaced me. The house doesn’t need cleaning every day. And we don’t need notes taken on every little detail. She’s completely unnecessary. What’s wrong with me? I should be grateful we have someone to clean up our messes. She’s doing the best she can, and I’m not exactly making that easy for her. Lockwood can tell I don’t like her. But I don’t. I’m perfectly fine with her. It just all came so soon. I wasn’t expecting to be greeted with such a prim and proper assistant as soon as I stepped foot into Portland Row again.
“My head’s spinning.” I accidentally interrupted the new client. I look around. They’re all staring at me. “Sorry, I should go upstairs.” I leave the living room and start up the stairs. I look back at the touch of Lockwood.
“You alright?” I dart my eyes away from him. “You seem off, is all.”
“I’m fine. My stomach just feels a bit sick. I think I’ll just take a minute to rest.”
“Lucy-” I ignore him and trudge up the stairs. I look back for a moment to see his face, but he’s already gone back into the interview. Probably sitting right next to Holly. While she primly sits in my chair. Back straight, head-on. She’s so perfect, isn’t she?
As I head into the attic, I feel like there’s a weight on my chest, and I can’t make it leave. I fall into bed, beneath the covers. I was just downstairs and didn’t get anything to eat. I probably wouldn’t have anyway. I doubt I’d have any appetite. I bury myself under the duvet, tossing and turning. I can’t sleep. I think he’s what’s wrong with me.
- ⟡ one thing right / fluff
- ⟡ i'll be watching you / fluff
- ⟡ you know how to ball, i know aristotle / fluff
- ⟡ i'll be watching you / fluff
- ⟡ disgusted with myself / angst
slytherin boys / hp
- ⟡ fancasts & headcanons / drabble
a. lockwood / l&c
- ⟡ said i was fine / angst
- ⟡ as the sky fell in / fluff
blaise zabini x reader
summary: the two of you are over now, and draco may be your boyfriend, but when you're with him you're thinking of somebody else. and when he kisses you, you're disgusted with yourself. heavily based off of katy perry's song !
tags: fem!reader, one shot, angst-ish, yearning
word count: 777
Thinking of You
I woke up in bed, tired and uneasy. I had that dream again. It’s not bad, but it’s something I wish I had so badly it makes me sick. I slowly opened my eyes to see the blond lying beside me, still asleep. I looked down at myself, sitting up. I fiddle with my hands, trying to erase the thought of him out of my mind. Still, he was all I could think of. It feels like everyone has told me to move on, but I still miss him.
Draco eased out of his slumber and started to sit up next to me. As he looked at my face, I tried to avoid his. I felt his gaze on me. “Good morning,” he mumbled softly. “Morning, Dray..” I yawned; those were the first words out of my mouth in the day. I wished they weren’t. He pecked my cheek lightly. “Want breakfast?” I nodded, still looking down at my twiddling fingers. I sat in silence with myself under the duvet for a good bit. I didn’t think of the eggs, or maybe the toast Draco would bring upstairs for me. I could only think of his best friend. The boy who used to be my best friend. My boy.
A few moments later, Draco came upstairs and back into the bedroom with a plate of buttered toast, bacon, and pieces of fresh fruit here and there. I do admit, his cooking wasn’t terrible. But it only made me think of how delicious his flap jacks used to be. How he always knew to make my tea just right. As Draco handed me my plate and my small cup of coffee, I looked into his icy grey eyes, only imagining the long, slanted, dark eyes of the boy I missed so dearly.
“Enjoy,” he gently kissed me warmly once again. I appreciated his kindness, especially when he rarely showed any to anybody else. However, as his lips pressed onto mine, I could feel his mouth. Taste his tongue. I felt like crying in the moment. I thought I almost did. The taste lingered on my lips, only growing the feeling of regret and loneliness. I felt disgusted with myself. That I was even here, with Draco Malfoy. He was nothing like him. I guess that was a good thing, nothing to remind me. But I could mourn him on my own. I couldn’t manage to get him out of my mind. The thought lingered on for what felt, feels like forever.
Waking up in bed with Draco, spending the night with him, only made me wish it was with somebody else. Every time his cold, grey eyes glanced at me, I wished I was looking into his eyes. Every time I looked at his light blond hair, I imagined his buzzed, dark curls. I longed for what used to be mine.
Blaise Zabini.
Tall, dark-skinned, gorgeous. Everything about him was perfect. The way he spoke, the way he dressed, the way he looked at me in Potions when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. I wished he missed me the way I missed him. I thought of how I let him slip out of my fingers, how I let myself let him go.
Every time he held my hand, or touched my skin, it burned. He was everything right for me. His love hurt, but in the best, most addicting way possible. I couldn’t stop thinking of him, or the way he used to kiss my body, play with my hair, bite my lips. He knew every way to love me. Perfectly.
I wondered what we would have done if he was the one I spent last night with. Would he gently caress my hand the way he once did every evening? Would he rest his warm, comforting hand on my thigh like he always did at dinner in the Great Hall? It didn’t matter what he would have done. Because he hadn’t. He wasn’t mine anymore. I let go of him. Stupidly.
As I finished my breakfast and Draco left for whatever reason, I was left alone. Alone with my thoughts. Thoughts of him. If only he came through the door. Taking me back. Kissing me and loving me intensely once again. If only. I would do it. I would go see him. I didn’t know where he was, of course. Perhaps the Zabini Manor, or passed out in the aftermath of a party, or in the bed of another girl’s. I couldn’t blame him, obviously. I did the same. I betrayed him.
The most I could do was stay in bed and continue thinking of him.
blaise zabini x reader
summary: slytherin loses the quidditch match against gryffindor, and in a sick drunkenness, blaise gets in a fight. you meet him in the infirmary, and realize he's not half as bad as you'd thought.
tags: fem!reader, one shot, fluff, injured
word count: 999
Call It What You Want
The infirmary’s dull lights lit up the room, flickering every other second once turned on. Blaise lay on one of the presumably very uncomfortable cots that filled the corners of the room’s off-white walls. His eyes shut, Zabini looked so calm, like a lamb. The thin, black-ish grey duvet covered his body, apart from his feet, as he was too tall for the cot. The bed in itself looked awkward, but still, he slept so peacefully. This might have been the only time I’ve ever seen him without a cocky grin on his face or a snarky comment leaving his mouth.
Last night, Gryffindor won the quidditch match, and practically all hell broke loose in the Slytherin common room, or so I’ve heard. I guess Zabini got into a fight with some Gryffindor 7th year, and busted his ass pretty badly. Apparently, he won the fight, though. I didn’t take him for a fighter; I still don’t. I think he was just drunk. Blaise Zabini was many things: arrogant, pretentious, snobby, and sarcastic. But he wasn’t violent. He didn’t punch just anybody. And honestly, he didn’t really get mad too easily either.
When I heard he had gotten his face beaten up, my initial thought was worry. What happened? Was he okay?
Scratch that, I don’t care. Why would I? We aren’t friends. We aren’t even acquaintances. He’s just the sarcastic boy from my Potions 4th period. But still, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. What if he was seriously hurt? I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Not even him.
As I stepped farther from the entrance doorway and closer to him, the quieter and more awkward the whole scenario felt. The cold air of the infirmary hit me in a sudden wave. I stood by his bedside as his eyes gradually opened, raising himself to sit up.
“Where am I?” His words hit me like bricks. The sudden and toneless voice in such a quiet, kept room made me shudder. His dark, intent eyes stared into me. I nervously looked away.
“The infirmary,” I muttered. “You were hurt last night.” I turned away from him again, somewhat embarrassed.
“Gee, what did I do that made you upset enough to rock my shit like this?” He chuckled, clearly amused by teasing me. I was not. “I didn’t touch you once,” I protested. I shifted back towards him in a fit of anger and annoyance. “Apparently, you picked a fight after last night’s match. Angry you didn’t win, I suppose.” I looked down at him in his bed angrily. Our eyes met, and my sudden irritation settled. I breathed heavily, glancing in a different direction.
“Damn game’s rigged.” He murmured under his breath, clearly still frustrated. I tried not to laugh. I crossed my arms, trying to show more offense, when, really, he just made me annoyed at times. But I really was worried. I scanned his face, his fists. The dirty white bandages wrapped around his long fingers. The scabs forming on his cheekbones. Now, I wasn’t too sure how accurate the ‘Blaise won’ rumor was.
A moment of peaceful silence between us lasted for a good while before he interrupted it again. “Why are you even down here anyway?” My breath hitched. He looked at me, and I looked at him.
“Dumbledore sent me.” I felt his eyes move down from mine to study my whole body as I changed my hostile pose of crossed arms to sitting down at the edge of his cot. “I am one of the best healers in our year, you know.”
He fully sat up in his bed, darting his head away from me. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled, looking down at the cover. “So are you going to heal me?”
I almost laughed. “I don’t know, I like it when my patients have manners and say please and thank you.” He groaned, and I just smiled. “Here,” I gave him a bubbling, purple-ish mixture. It wouldn’t fully heal his wounds, but it would reduce the pain. He drank up, and I looked away, trying my best not to make it any more awkward than it already was. He choked it down and handsomely wiped the corner of his mouth. I tried not to stare at his full lips, but the way he licked them was captivating.
Despite his occasional smug laugh or sarcastic jokes, he wasn’t half as bad as I’d originally thought. He was different than how I’d imagined. Yeah, maybe he was a bit snooty, but he was also funny and kind of friendly, too. His bright smile was contagious and somewhat charming. Although Slytherin lost last night, he was a pretty talented Quidditch player. He was known around the school and was friends with most of his housemates in our year.
Not that any of this was endearing or likeable, but he did seem fun to be around. But was he the same when with his friends? Or did he even really act like this at all? Was he trying to be nice to me just for laughs? He seemed genuine, but of course, I do try to see the best in everyone. But that voice in my head tells me he just doesn’t want to be punched again.
Stop. Why should I even care? It doesn’t matter if we’re friends or not. I’m just here to bring the potion. That’s it. I lift myself off of the low-rised bed, and onto the waxy, tiled floors. “I should get going now,” I said, readjusting my black, wrinkled robe. The rest of the infirmary was unoccupied, and my voice slightly echoed in the large, empty room. I turned around, facing away from him, and started towards the exit.
“Wait.”
I spun back around, facing him. “Wait,” he spoke again, calmer this time. Our eyes met, and it was hard for me to even look at him, but for some reason, I felt like I couldn’t. “Stay.”
“I should’ve love guide and motivate me, not hatred. You were… the first light in my life, even though I kept trying to shut you off. I tried so hard to blow your flame out, but you just light it again, and then you make it bigger. And every time I get more and more angry, furious, you match my darkness with your light until, finally, I couldn’t extinguish your fire. Everything suddenly stopped feeling so cold and empty. It was like—I looked up one day and finally saw how full my heart was… and the warmth just—washed over me.”
Naruto and Sasuke: I’ll Believe in Anything — Wolf Parade.
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