#also if he does have a canon birthday please let me know!! I couldn't find it anywhere but I could have just missed it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simply-smitten · 1 month

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Smitten Master Post!

About me - my socials - my fics

About me~

She/her pronouns

26 with a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a master’s degree in social work

Mcyt is my first/only fandom

I primarily write DNF and Karlnap, but I do have a few multiship thread fics on my 18+ NSFW twitter :)

My boundaries: do not interact with my NSFW content if you’re a minor, do not supply my NSFW content to minors, and do not repost my work whatsoever (only exception is to translate it, but please contact me first to get permission)

My socials~

Ao3: simplysmitten

Main twitter: simplysmitten_

Alt twitter: simplysosmitten

NSFW twitter: simplysmutten (must be 18+ with your age in your bio)

Wattpad: simplysmitten

Curiouscat: simplysmutten

My fics~

Thread fics - Separated by ship (dnf, karlnap, snf, dnn, dnkn), NSFW threads have a warning in red and are posted to my 18+ twitter (simplysmutten), SFW threads that were turned into chapters of “Between Friends” have the Ao3 and Wattpad links, and NSFW threads that were turned into works for my “Beyond Friends” series have the Ao3 link.

Karlnap fics~

Because You Are Love (rated T, 140k, 61/61 chapters)

Summary: Sapnap grew up in Texas, a state where being gay just wasn't something you were allowed to talk about- so he didn't. He never came out to his family and even when he made new friends who loved him unconditionally, he still couldn't bring himself to come out. Staying in the closet never felt like a problem once he moved to Florida with Dream, well, until a video collaboration introduced him to a boy that made him question if he could keep hiding. Now, Sapnap has to return to Texas for the first time since his move to Florida for his step-sister's birthday. What's waiting for him when he arrives is going to make keeping his sexuality a secret from his family that much harder.

(i’m worried) it will always be you (rated E, 120k, 20/20 chapters)

Summary: College AU. Sapnap, a notoriously sullen computer science major, is attending North Carolina State University, along with his roommate and long-time internet friend, Dream. While Dream has been pining over the pretty British boy in a couple of his classes, Sapnap finds himself having a much harder time avoiding a certain gray-eyed ray of sunshine.

*Story is not told chronologically. Chapters will vary from Freshman year (2015-2016 school year) to Senior year (2018-2019 school year). Chapters will be dated at the top to avoid confusion. Also, for reference, 'present day' is spring semester of senior year.*

Your Telephone Calls are my Favorite Place (rated T, 100k, 62/62 chapters)

Summary: Karl is finding it more and more difficult to hide his feelings for his best friend, Sapnap. He's willing to risk it all for his chance at love, but does he really understanding just how much he's risking?

DNF fics~

Please Let Me Go (rated M, 75k, 14/14 chapters)

Summary: Dream finds himself in an introverts worst nightmare when Sapnap convinces him to host seven of their close friends for Sapnap's 21st birthday. The only thing holding Dream together was knowing he could finally meet his best friend, George, in person. However, the person who stepped off the plane felt like a complete stranger to Dream- an unrecognizable personality inhabiting the body of the person he thought he knew better than anyone in this world. Years of online friendship had built up this moment for him, only to come crashing down when George wasn't the man he thought he was.

Between Friends (rated T, 110k and counting, oneshot collection)

Summary: A collection of fluffy DNF oneshots. Each chapter is its own completed story (aside from ‘Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas’ and ‘Homesick-London-Cafe’). Most oneshots are canon adjacent, and so far two are AUs. Primarily takes place around the time of the meet-up.

All paths lead to you (rated T, 30k, oneshot)

Summary: When George is stressed, he has nightmares, and when George has nightmares, he sleepwalks. In a subconscious search for relief, George sleepwalks to the safest place he can find- Dream's room. Dream finds out more than he bargained for when trying to decode George's nonsensical sleep-talking, but he struggles to make conscious-George as comforted by his presence as unconscious-George.

‘Idiot’ means ‘I love you’ in Floridian (rated T, 20k, oneshot)

Summary: Model-George x bodyguard-Dream AU. George has been working as a model for a few years now. His father, a higher up in the English government, insists that George has a bodyguard with him at all times. As an act of defiance, George makes a point to sneak away from his bodyguards to prove to his father they're useless and he doesn't need one. Desperate to find a bodyguard that can actually keep track of his son, George's father hires a bodyguard from a different background- a masked man named Dream. For once, George isn't so eager to get this bodyguard fired.

The Colors We Don’t See (rated T, 7k, oneshot)

Summary: Soulmate AU. Soulmates are predetermined, but that never held Dream back from loving George. When George is finally able to move to Florida, the first thing Dream notices is the way his laugh bounces more clearly than ever before. The second thing he notices is the bright yellow aura surrounding him, like George had stolen the sun out of the sky and placed it in his heart instead. George is his soulmate, that much is clear, but trouble arises when George can't see Dream's aura in return.

Live, Laugh, (Blood)Lust (rated T, 6k, oneshot)

Summary: Vampire-George x wizard-Dream AU. George doesn’t believe bloodlust is real, so Dream offers to put a love spell on him to prove him wrong… but he’s not the best wizardry student.

The Remedy to Everything (rated E, 170k and counting, 40/50 chapters)

Summary: After nearly a year of waiting for his visa, George is finally allowed to go home. Home, meaning a house in Florida that was already inhabited by his two best friends, Dream and Sapnap. Being an omega, George feared what trouble moving in with two alphas could potentially create. He never expected that trouble would come in the form of soft curls and green eyes, sparking something irreversible inside himself.

*uploads are every Monday and Thursday :)*

First Love / Late Fall (rated E, 13k, 3/3 chapters)

Summary: George has been going down a dark path for a while, carelessly using people in order to satisfy selfish needs. He hides who he is from his friends who only know him via the internet. This double life becomes a lot more challenging when someone shows up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. Could this be the event that triggers George to change?

It Takes Two to Edge (rated E, 7k, oneshot, part 1 of Beyond Friends)

Summary: Dream and George are in a fwb (... plus feelings) type of situation. After their edging session gets interrupted, George rewards Dream with the promise of fulfilling his breeding kink for the first time.

my honey, my moon (rated E, 20k, oneshot, part 2 of Beyond Friends)

Summary: Dream and George go on fake honeymoons, indulging each other in everything they miss about relationships. Then things change when Dream actually gets a girlfriend.

bet your ass i’m right (rated E, 12k, oneshot, part 3 of Beyond Friends)

Summary: Dream and George like to make bets, even over the dumbest of things. The stakes get higher when they start to wager sexual favors.

More Convenient (An Arrangement of Sorts) (rated E, 8k, oneshot, part 4 of Beyond Friends)

Summary: Dream can't get off without having a partner to please, but luckily for him, George just moved to America. (also they are idiots in love they are so dumb and so in love but not in an angsty way just a "they're so stupid" way)

GeorgeNotFound OnlyFans (rated E, 37k, 5/5 chapters, part 5 of Beyond Friends)

Summary: Fresh out of university and struggling to land a job in his field, George finds himself desperate for a way to make ends meet. While his friends have big dreams of blowing up on YouTube, George decides to make an OnlyFans profile. Shockingly, George goes viral on both platforms, making his money troubles a thing of the past, but maintaining his anonymity a constant worry. How funny is it that he manages to make a friend named Clay on both platforms?

Warm, like Starlight (rated E, 53k, 2/2 chapters, part 6 of Beyond Friends)

Summary: Humans are banned from touching other species in the galaxy, but George, a cat-hybrid, takes a leap of faith and lets the human aboard his ship, Dream, pet him. It awakens a side of George he’s desperate to satisfy, and Dream is more than willing to meet all of George’s needs.

Happy reading!

<3 smitten

#pinned #smitten fics #please go easy on me I’m still new here

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faunawoodsart · 2 years

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Something feels off

R6S Oc X Canon fanfic

(based on me not knowing what day it was yesterday)

It had been a full month since Nav had been back at Herefordshire base. The mission was supposed to take less than two weeks to complete, but two weeks stretched into a month. She got back to base at 14:49 (11:49pm) on May 14. Being too exhausted to come into contact with anyone, Nav went straight to her flat and went to bed. She didn't wake up until 10:21 the next day. She rubbed her head. Her entire body was tired and aching, but something seemed...off... She sat up in bed and scratched her head. "Did I miss something?"

Nav shrugged it off and went to the cafeteria to get something to eat She felt nauseous but she knew she had to eat something. Nav grabbed a croissant and sat down with Thunderbird, who was sitting alone with a coffee and typing on her laptop. Mina noticed Nav and cringed slightly.

"Oh my you look like shit..."

Nav pulled out the chair and sat down hard on the chair.

"I know... I got back at like...uh... 11 last night?"

"Yikes.. That's why you look exhausted. Maybe it's best if you just relax today."

Nav took a small bite out of her croissant. "Yea I guess.. Also, Mina did I miss something important while I was gone?"

Thunderbird took a sip of her coffee. "Please tell me you are joking?"

"..No.."

"You missed your boyfriend's birthday"

Nav choked on her croissant and hurriedly got up, knocking the chair over. " SHIT I GOTTA GO FIND HIM! BYE MINA!!!"

Thunderbird waved her off and chuckled. "And I thought I was bad with birthdays."

Nav was panicking. She usually bought people birthday gifts a month in advance, but since she was gone, she couldn't do that. She had to find him, but what would she say? She began to panic even worse.

It took her an hour to find Kapkan. Kapkan was back at his flat that she shared with the Spetz guys. When he opened the door to let her in, she almost fell face-first onto the floor but her knees hit the floor before that could happen.

"Oh you're back" Kapkan was happy to see her after she had been gone so long. He held out his hand to help her up, that's when he noticed her eyes watering up.

" AH IM SORRY I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY AND I DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO GET A GIFT AND-"

Kapkan knelt down to her and started to rub Nav's back.

"Woah woah, it's okay." He used his other hand to wipe away the tears that started falling down her face. "Things like this happen all the time Eli."

Nav sniffled and used her sleeve to wipe her nose. "Really?"

"Yes," Kapkan paused and thought of something, "How about we just hang out for the rest of the day. As my present from you to me? How does that sound?"

Nav nodded, "Anything you say, you're the birthda- ah... Belated birthday boy." She chuckled.

Kapkan helped her up from the ground and dusted her off. The two operators would spend the rest of the day and night together.

#r6s nav #r6s oc #r6 nav #r6 oc #oc x canon

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hangezoeenthusiast · 3 years

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My L'Manberg

this little piece right here, what if we, as the reader, blew up manberg (l'manberg), in the place of wilbur, and wilbur took the place of philza. this is in honor of wilbur getting revived.

gn!reader

pronouns: they/them

warnings: explosions, yelling, death/dead body, cursing, angst, blood

(gif not mine! it’s on pinterest)

you were clapping for wilbur, in fact, most of the people was clapping for him. pogtopia and the rest defeated schlatt and his tyranny. finally schlatt's corrupt self wouldn't poison l'manberg, turned manberg.

wilbur gave his little speech about equality and peace and bla bla bla. then wilbur said something that was actually for importance, "it would be hypocritical if i lead this nation, so, i give the presidency to tommy, elected president tommyinnit, can you come up to the stage?"

tommy looked shocked, he didn't know that he would be leader of this nation. he came up onto the stage and hugged wilbur and thanked him for the opportunity.

"wow, in a million years i never thought that i would be president. well, thank you for the opportunity for this."

then he said something that blew everyone's minds for the second time, "i also cannot be president, i still have to get my discs back, and as i try to get cat and mellohi back from you dream, i can't handle a nation at the same time, so for the time being, i give the presidency to tubbo."

tubbo also looked shocked, not knowing that he was also a choice for the presidency of l'manberg. "holy shit guys, i never thought i would be pres, thank you tommy and wilbur for this opportunity, umm, so-"

you didn't hear anything else of tubbo's little speech. "how could they ignore me, i'm worthy to be president too." you thought to yourself. why would they complete forget that you were also a presidential candidate for l'manberg. you were one of the founder members of that nation. you, wilbur, tommy, tubbo, eret, even though he was a traitor, you guys found that wonderful nation. where men and women and just basically everyone could go and emancipate, right?

no, it wasn't like that anymore, l'manberg couldn't be restored to its former glory. nothing could be the same anymore. so you made the decision to blow the place to smithereens. you bargained with dream for 11 stacks of TnT.

"what do i get out of this if i give you this?"

"i'll give you all the op shit, the op armor, potions, weapons, and most of all, power, after all, don't you want to hold yourself in a higher position than tommy?"

he complied after you sweet talked him. he gave you 11 stacks of the TnT. so then you went to your little hiding place, hidden behind two blocks of stone. you pickaxed the stone, went inside, then placed it back.

"hmmm, should i, i mean, this is stupid. tommy shouldn't be president, i should, you khow what, no one should, everything we went through, everything that i went through, what's the point of this stupid nation, judgement and death passed on to everyone like a piece of cake at a birthday party, why should i let a hypocrite run this nation?" you contemplated.

it was confusing, you wanted to be president, but at the same time, you wanted this nation gone. meanwhile the other side was chaos. on the other side of the stone, the lyrical scribbles of the l'manberg anthem on signs, there was death. the badlanders and dream killing citizens of l'manberg. technoblade killing badlanders. but one person got away from this, it was the one and only wilbur soot.

he knew your little spot, he had found it on one of his daily strolls along l'manberg. he found the little seat you placed right in front of the button. right, the button, the one that would set his, your, nation up in flames and destruction.

so he went to the little spot, knowing he would find you there, since you were missing from the surface. "y/n, what are you doing here?" he asked you. he knew what you wanted to do. "why are you doing this y/n, we won manberg, no l'manberg back, why you want to destroy it?"

you were furious, why would he ask you a ridiculous question. "BECAUSE WILBUR, YOU AND TOMMY AND TUBBO ARE HYPOCRITES, YOU ALL DON'T DESERVE TO BE PRESIDENT, I DO, OR NO ONE DOES." you yelled at him. "i seriously was about to push this button, why did you stop me?" you groaned. you were about to push the button before he came into the hiding spot.

you heard people try to get to you and wilbur. "noo, they can't come in here." you retaliated.

"you don't know how close i was going to push this button, 7-8 times i think. you can't stop me wilbur." you blankly stated.

"no, y/n, don't do this."

those five measly words didn't stop you. you said one finally thing before l'manberg would be gone, "wilbur, are you familiar with the traitor of this nation, eret, well he said something, it was never meant to be." those words from eret, the ones that would be one of your final statements of your life.

you pressed the button and everything went haywire. the stone in front of you guys exploded, scratching your skin, making it bleed. wilbur trying to cover your body from the explosion. people being launched in the air. people getting killed from their enemies. people being in shock of the sudden explosion that occured in l'manberg. they finally got it back, now suddenly ripped to shreds.

"MY L'MANBERG WILBUR, MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY FOREVER UNFINISHED, IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS NO ONE CAN." you saluted wilbur. signs of the lyrics smashed across the ground. blood shed everywhere. people looking at you with horror.

"KILL ME WILBUR, KILL ME." you demanded him. "NO I CAN'T, YOU'RE MY FRIEND." he answered. "FUCK THAT, KILL ME, DRIVE YOUR SWORD IN MY CHEST, COME ON, KILLBUR, KILLBUR, KILL ME, COME ON MR. PRESIDENT, DO IT."

you threw a sword at him, "take my life right now, i can't handle the embarrassment, please kill me." you whispered at him. all you wanted was death. he picked up the enchanted diamond sword, and drove the sword right through your heart. "thank you wilbur." you told him. your final words, haunting him, ringing through his ears. everyone looking at him with shock.

your blood coating the sword. everyone looked at your dead body. but then, wilbur hugged you to his chest. "why y/n, we had everything, you had everything." he cried, and he cried, and he cried until phil came and consulted him. "it's ok son, it's ok, let it all out." he sobbed in phil's arms, hoping that this was a nightmare, and that you were alive, and that l'manberg was blown apart.

but no, it was reality, you died by his hand, l'manberg was done for, and everything was torn to shreds, never getting rebuilt ever again.

(This is a extra piece, let me know what you think about it.)

you woke up in your bed, feeling like shit. you remembered what happened, your TnT ruining l'manberg. wilbur driving your sword through your chest, the pain, your final last words.

you forgot that you didn't have one last life during the explosion, you had two left. the first canon life you lost was from dream, during the disc war. the second was by wilbur. wilbur, your savior, the one who gave you peace for once in your life. "so i have one last life huh?"

so, later on made a beautiful house in the middle of nowhere, pet enderman named bob, op potions, armor, and weapons. you kept yourself secret from everyone, making sure that no one would find out you were alive.

(this part was kinda poo, i just added it for no reason)

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #dream smp #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #c!wilbur x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader #louistommosnesquickmilk writes #louistommosnesquickmilk

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pbjamas · 3 years

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Please, thinking about how much neglect Hawks went through makes me so sad :( like not only does mans probably not know how to read or write but he was probably so far behind with EVERYTHING.

I am sure 100% his parents didn't teach him anything and the only resource he had of the world outside of his little shack was the TV (which his mum was practically glued to and it clearly didn't work well) so he wasn't going to learn much from that.

Like he probably couldn't even count past like 12, didn't know what most things were, didn't understand phrases (like in mean girls the "omg shut up" "I didn't say anything?" type of deal) and I know this child didn't know how to use chopsticks, like imagine when he gets taken in by the commission and he has to sit there for like an hour every meal cos he can't pick up his food without dropping it :( like I really think being so behind as a child is why he's so fast as an adult, he had to go really fast and cram to get to the normal level of a 7 year old and when he got there he just continued that speed, you know ?

Also, when we see him saving the people in the car crash he's got a little shopping bag, I like to imagine him paying for that if he couldn't read or count like the shopkeeper says its 300 yen and he thinks 1 note = 1 yen and he doesn't know how much 300 yen is but its clearly a Big Number and he definitely only has 4 yen so he starts freaking out like how is he going to get his mother money if things cost this much? But it turns out he actually DOES have enough money and now he's so confused because he now has 0 clue how money works so everytime after that he just prays that he has enough money for what he's picked up.

I also have a head canon that the reason why his boots are Like That is cos the first time he ever wore shoes was when he was on the streets with his mum and after 7 years of bare feet, walking in proper shoes was terrible so he preferred boots with hardly any sole that were so big they could barley fit his feet cos that felt most similar to walking bare foot and although he could walk fine in any shoe as an adult the boots were just never changed.

I also have this sad thought that like what if no one actually knows Hawks' real birthday ? Like I genuinely don't think Tomie was in a state of mind that allowed her to know or remember exact dates, not even the date that her son was born so when the commission asks when he was born she's just like "around Christmas? Maybe after?" So they just give him a birthday that matches that vague description :'(

THIS WAS SO LONG IM SO SORRY I just have many Thoughts about child Hawks :(

This one gets a readmore bc I rambled <3

aaaaaa ;_; that is so sad ;_;

yeah i remember talking with a friend and we about like.....what if baby keigo wrote in a diary! and since this was abt the ghost fic i was writing the ua kids were going to find his old diary and read it and probably cry. But then we realized......he wasn’t allowed to leave the house. Definitely did not go to school. Very much doubt that either tomie or his father taught him to read or write. If he knew any words at all, he would have learned them when his parents left him alone in the house and he could switch the TV to kids shows where they try to be educational.

Agreed that he probably couldn’t count that high either :/ slfkjsdkj what if....he made up words for the higher numbers so he could count higher ;_; AGAIN me thinking of the ghost fic (i poured my heart and soul into it okay!?) I had lil keigo just find a bunch of coins on the ground and hand it to the lady at the store and just hope it was enough bc he couldn’t count high :/

DO NOT give the boots a tragic backstory, I’ll start feeling bad about hating them!!!!

Aaaa that would be really sad if they didn’t even know his birthday ;_; my personal headcanon is that when he was younger his mom was more....there. It’s hard to take care of a baby, you have to be extremely careful because they can get hurt so easily. I like to think that until he could walk well, tomie actually did a pretty good job! she held him and fed him and maybe even sang to him. They were pals, he was her only friend. And then as soon as he could survive without her constant attention.....she just kind of.......withered, without that urgency. so tldr i think she would have remembered his birthday, and maybe even remembers newborn keigo with some fondness. and then let herself slip back into helplessness as soon as she could ;_;

The hpsc planned to immediately start hero training, but instead, they have to teach him how to count, how to read basic characters, how to hold a pencil, how to tie his shoes (UGH you have me considering the tragic boots backstory how dare you.....) .maybe bc he couldn’t tie his shoes he just preferred zipper to save himself the embarrassment (I STILL HATE THE BOOTS, TO BE CLEAR).

#asks

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silverspectre · 4 years

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en garde, pret, aimer! || lockwood & co.

pairing: light florence bonnard x anthony lockwood

genre: fencing(?)ish!au and also maybe straying away from canon bc what iS canon at this point, fluff, platonic main relationship, eventual angst, pre-canon??? aka beFore the series takes place

words: 3.8k

tags: fluffy!!, young lockwood nd flo, fencing stuff, apologies for the french (literally lol), i wrote this like half a year ago i’M SORRY-

what to expect: “’Why else would I be here? Tea time?’”

a/n: so this was beta-read and edited by two lovely people! i appreciate their help so much, as they’ve made this story what it is now. thank you so much @piratekingimogen and @willowwisk for your help! is this canon-compliant? someone ask jonathan stroud. this will be my last fic for a while, unless i have a spontaneous bout (pun intended) of inspiration. thank you all for your support!

translation: en garde, prets, allez = on guard, ready, go (used to start a fencing bout) / en garde, prets, aimer = on guard, ready, love (used to start this story)

The train ride from London to Paris is a particularly long, arduous journey. There's not much to see; reading a book 50 times or twiddling your thumbs is perhaps the most productive thing one can do. However, though a subjective opinion, it's a great deal less dull when in the company of a pretty girl whose name you learn through one piece of black licorice.

Florence Bonnard. It was elegant and flowed off the tip of your tongue. She was pretty; her teeth shining white and her long, blonde hair practically another shade of gold, shimmering in the sunlight. Anthony Lockwood could only stare at her.

To Anthony, Paris was a dream of any fencer. It was hailed as the fencing capital of the world, home to countless famed swordsmen and agents. He could merely wish to be like them. He was sure he was on his way, however. He'd been invited to a DEPRAC-sponsored competition in France, and of course, he absolutely had to go. His supervisor, Nigel 'Gravedigger' Sykes, forced him anyways.

He made the acquaintance of Florence Bonnard only a few minutes ago, when she huffed into the train compartment that was otherwise empty except for Anthony's doe-eyed presence. Looking upset, she plopped herself down diagonal from him. She didn't even acknowledge his existence.

"Hi?" he squeaked out. His voice was a little scratchy. He coughed, then repeated the word in a much more confident tone.

"Well? What are you?" This was the first he'd heard the girl speak.

She spared a glance at Anthony.

"I'm, uh..." He thought fast. She didn't

know him; no one on the train, as far as he knew, knew his name. He could reinvent himself, banish the name used so fondly by his parents and sister. He could be...

"I'm, uh... Lockwood. Just Lockwood. Yes. That's me."

"Lockwood... classy," she commented. She paused, in thought. "Though... I think I'll call you Locky."

"L-Locky?" Lockwood stuttered. This was not how she was supposed to react to his name.

"Locky. It practically rolls off the tongue, don't you think?" She smiled, slightly exposing her white teeth. It was a pretty sight. He could've stared at her for a second or an hour before he registered her answer.

Lockwood was caught off guard. "W-well, what's your name, then?"

She smiled a pearly white smile. "Wouldn't you like to find out," she said slyly.

A sweets trolley rolled down the aisle, pushed by a plump old woman. "Anything you'd like to buy?" She popped her head in the compartment.

The girl scanned the trolley, then made up her mind. She turned to Lockwood. "You'll have to buy me a liquorice to find out my name."

"I'll have a bag of liquorice, please," Lockwood immediately said to the lady, pulling out two pounds and exchanging it for a bag. He didn't know why he complied so easily - maybe he'd fallen under a trance for her.

He handed one to the girl, who looked momentarily startled before recomposing herself. "So, what's your name?" Lockwood asked.

"Florence Bonnard," she simply replied. It matched her, Lockwood thought. Prim and proper, it matched her perfect posture and neatly combed hair.

"You fence?"

"Why else would I be here? Tea time?"

"O-of course not, but you're just so pretty-"

Oh no. He'd let it slip.

Florence Bonnard's lips curled upward. "Thanks, Locky. I'll remember that on the piste."

He was suddenly scared to imagine Florence Bonnard on the piste, with her blonde hair tied up and her body in first position, sword ready to attack. With her confidence, double of his, how good could she be? Lockwood felt his stomach turn queasy. How good were the others on the train?

She poked Lockwood lightly. "Worried?" she teased. "En-garde," she mimicked a referee, "prets-" she made a face, "allez!" She pretended to poke Lockwood with her rapier, then laughed.

Lockwood couldn't help but laugh with her at her imitation.

"What's your agency?" Lockwood asked.

"That'll cost you a liquorice," she stated.

He handed her one.

"Sinclair & Saones. 'm an apprentice for 'em. You?"

"Nigel Sykes."

"Really?" she drawled. "You seem like the Rotwell type - well, then again, you weren't sitting with the lot in the first place."

"Rotwell and Fittes agents always win, don't they?"

"I'll give 'em a run for their money. How old are you?"

"Ten."

She looked up and down. "Alright then."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked. "Nothing... When's your birthday, then?"

He told her.

"I'm older than you."

"So what? That doesn't mean you'll be better!"

Florence Bonnard smiled. "We'll see about that."

Nigel 'Gravedigger' Sykes, or just Sykes, was Lockwood's mentor. He was a bit scraggly, but not enough to make him incompetent with a sword. He was on the slightly mad side, yes, but was an extremely skilled swordsman. Lockwood was constantly amazed by his ability.

"You rely on remises too much. Practice on your footwork, you're doubting yourself too much.”

They'd been practicing for two hours - maybe more. Lockwood didn't even bother trying to count the bouts. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, his breaths hot in the mask. Lockwood's legs were sore and his arms hurt from all the attack, parry, and riposting he'd done.

The competition started in three days - Sykes had decided Lockwood needed to cram in as much practice as he could. On and off the piste, Lockwood could hear Sykes' voice in his head, telling him to Parry quarte or Eat your breakfast, it's free food! Food was accommodated at the hotel which sponsored DEPRAC for the competition. The rooming was nice as well, Lockwood being lucky enough to get a room to himself rather than most participants in the tournament who had to share a room.

When the competition finally rolled around, he'd won the first bout easily - almost too easily. Regardless, a win was a win, even against some Bunchurch agent with half a brain.

The real competition - or so he'd heard from rumours - was Quill Kipps of Fittes. He was apparently a prodigy fencing-god in his mid-teens, favoured by the majority of the crowd. He was tall and ginger, from what people had been telling him. Easy to spot in crowds. Lockwood was curious to see the famous Kipps in practice - rather, he was curious to see what any Fittes or Rotwell agent could bring to the table.

Lockwood had yet to see the mysterious Florence Bonnard do her bout. He was eager to do so after showering and slipping into the stands to watch the next bouts. After a win from Alexander Fawley, and another from Emily Schreiber, Quill Kipps was up. The teen was fast, and his every move was clearly calculated. It was everything Lockwood could aspire to be.

Florence Bonnard was fast as well, to Lockwood's surprise. She was extremely quick on her feet and could get a touch faster than the referee could blink after saying allez. It was impressive, being younger than a lot of contestants- and she wasn't even a Fittes or Rotwell agent.

Lockwood considered what he'd do if he was ever tasked with being her opponent, but only for a split second. It was too unrealistic he'd make it that far. But still, he had a vivid image of her lunging, ponytail swaying and rapier thrust as the tip of her blade touched his side. Now was not the time to daydream.

The second bout passed, 14-15. Lockwood had won in a landslide, attacking the split second his opponent hesitated.

After, as Lockwood chugged a bottle of water on the side, still sweaty and clad in his fencing gear, Florence Bonnard approached him. "Good bout, Locky," she said in her sly way. "Although, your footwork could be better." His gaze was stuck on her, even as she stalked off in true Florence fashion.

"Th-thanks?" It was already too late; Lockwood just watched her straw-colored hair swish away. She was one interesting girl. He sighed, staring at her back.

Lockwood's days consisted of eating, practicing, and sleeping. He would occasionally watch other agents practice, to pick up on faults and techniques they used. That's, at least, what Sykes had told him to do. Half the time Lockwood just drifted off, staring at a wall corner or, as a current example, a blonde ponytail. ...Blonde ponytail...? It was Florence Bonnard in the flesh, practicing. Of course, Lockwood just assumed this fact, judging by the fencer's posture and hair. It was unmistakably her.

Lockwood hadn't seen her much, either because their schedules didn't match up or she barely practiced. She was very good, sharp on her feet and maneuvering like she was on ice. It was scary the way she got a touch so fast. He assumed she'd practiced a great deal privately; at least, that's how he comforted himself at the sight of her skillful rapier patterns.

Lockwood's eyes jumped to a tall ginger-haired fencer - no doubt Quill Kipps, practicing a couple metres away. He, too, was skilled. Close to Florence's level, but not quite. This could be the year someone from a small agency won - though, Lockwood couldn't keep his hopes up. Being the crowd favourite, who was to say he didn't have a couple tricks up his sleeve?

Bouts three and four passed, and just somehow, Lockwood had survived into the quarterfinals. The numbers were dwindling down; Florence Bonnard, not much to his surprise, was in strong.

The quarterfinals passed, but now that he'd won, more pressure had been draped on him. Practices stretched late into the night, leaving his muscles incredibly sore and eyelids drooping on their own accord. He almost forgot to shower one day, planning to sleep in his fencing gear. Sykes had been drilling into him much more. The lineup for the semifinals was posted; Lockwood would be fencing against Quill Kipps.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. He sweated at the thought of fencing the teen. No matter how much he analyzed Kipps' fencing, he never felt ready. Sure, he wasn't as good at Florence, but she was substantially better than Lockwood - as was Kipps. The day of the bout, Lockwood almost froze before walking in, trying not to look at the crowd. It was bigger than any he had fenced for before. He sucked in two deep breaths then pulled the mask over his face. Sykes patted him, whispered quick advice in his ear. Lockwood wasn't paying attention, more focused on the judges, rhe referee, and the feeling of his feet on the ground. He and Kipps did the salute, like any other bout.

The referee started to speak, also like any other bout. The words were muffled in Lockwood's jumbled mind. His thoughts were racing at 100 kilometers per second, tumbling around each other, unlike any other bout - but he didn't need to hear the words regardless. He knew what they were.

"En-garde."

Lockwood stared at Kipps.

"Prets."

He took a deep breath, readying himself.

"Allez!"

The bout began.

Immediately, swords clinked and clashed against each other as the agents attempted to protect themselves. Lockwood's mind went pure blank, and his body went into autopilot.

1-0. Sure, a rough start, but he could catch up.

1-1. Tied, that was okay.

2-3. Lockwood was in the lead-

5-7. Halfway there!

11-10. No, losing wasn't an option-

13-14. His sword was a blur in front of him, basically acting of its own accord. Parry, riposte, attack-! It was all too quick. Kipps had lost his balance, and Lockwood took the opportunity. He lunged, slashed with his blade just to earn a point. His blade felt something soft - he got a touch! - but then Lockwood actually looked at the tip of his blade.

Quill Kipps was stunned entirely. He'd fallen on the piste and stared up at the younger agent. The moment was silent; practically in slow motion. The crowd held their breath in disbelief.

Lockwood had struck Quill Kipps with his rapier on the bum. The judges were in shock. It was a touch, though, right? It... counted? The referee gestured, and Lockwood pulled his raper away.

The bout ended.

Lockwood won. Lockwood won, against the star of Fittes agency. Quill Kipps, meanwhile, fumed. His cheeks were redder than his hair, which was matted with sweat.

"I'll beat you next time, Anthony Lockwood..." he murmured.

The crowd was having its fun; booing in disappointment or cheering in amusement, Lockwood couldn't tell. He convinced himself it was the latter. He didn't mean to stab Kipps in the bum. It just happened. It's not like anyone ever goes into a bout thinking, "Oh, yeah, I'm going to riposte a clean one up his bum."

Sykes was impressed, though he seemed more pleased by the last touch Lockwood earned.

"You'll be going up against that Bonnard girl, so you better clean up that footwork of yours. Her bladework is quite fine, too, I'd say. Sharpen yourself up, Anthony - no pun intended."

Practice, as always, lasted to the evening - Lockwood had just gotten out of the locker room, hair wet from his shower when he heard a familiar rasping tone.

"Locky~" Florence Bonnard sing-songed, conveniently leaning on a pillar outside.

He approached her.

"Finals are tomorrow," she said, smiling. Her teeth glinted - it was charming. Her eyes shimmered a bright blue - when had he missed this feature of hers? She was breathtaking. He didn't react, dumbly nodding as he stared at her.

"Oh, and by the way? Stop staring at me sometimes, it's creepy, Locky. I know you like me, but you're too... you." She tapped his nose, ignited a blush across Lockwood's cheeks.

"Cute," she commented. "See you on the piste." She walked away in her typical manner.

Florence Bonnard beat him the next day, 13-15. It was completely fair. Her attacks were clean and precise, and she hesitated not a second. It was a blur in Lockwood's head; one second her blade was against his torso; the next, her blade had touched him 14 other times and the referee proclaimed her the winner. He wasn't disappointed, however - she, from a small agency, had won, not a Fittes or a Rotwell agent. He decided it was well-earned on her part, completely ignoring the way she had so softly put him down the day previous. She was just so attractive.

She gave him a toothy smile after the bout and patted his shoulder. "Don't be too upset, Locky." It was safe to say he wasn't.

2 years later.

It was terrible. It was one of those moments in your life where you can recount every detail of where you were and what you were doing exactly when it happened; heck, you could even recite the exact seconds.

Lockwood was reading the morning newspaper, sipping his pulp orange juice (the joys of being a blue whale!) when he read the news.

Both Sinclair and Saones (of the Sinclair & Saones agency) had died on a case, with poor Florence Bonnard being the only survivor. Florence Bonnard - the name reminded Lockwood of so much; mainly, his puppy crush on her when he was younger. He failed to see the appeal now, but platonically, she was wonderful, despite how much she demanded liquorice.

He visited her on the shorelines of the River Thames; it was mainly where she resided, to the most of Lockwood's knowledge. He slipped a bag of liquorice hidden under his coat for her.

Her appearance was slightly disheveled and a straw hat covered the half of her face.

"Locky!" she croaked, but her voice lacked its usual mirth. In fact, it was incredibly fragile; to put an exclamation mark after it would never properly do it justice. She looked cold, shivering in what appeared to be her agent clothing. Her rapier was still attached to her side.

"You're shaking." Lockwood sat beside her.

"A-am I, Locky?" she hiccupped. She took a deep, shaky breath, then laughed, an echo of bitterness and a sore throat.

"I heard what happened," he said softly. "How?"

"How else, Locky?" she said, less of a question than a horrible revelation. Her voice was terribly sad, full of pain and memories. "It was ghost-touch. I protected myself with an iron cross 'til dawn against the Limbless." Her fists clenched in her skirt. A tear dropped down her cheek - which Lockwood noticed to have fresh, small scars and what looked like to be traces of tears on her slightly muddied face. It was the exact opposite from the pristine, composed Florence he'd known for so long.

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be."

"Did you get hurt anywhere?"

She shrugged, wincing as she touched her cheek.

"I could-"

"Don't. It'll heal on its own." He wanted to tell her to clean it as well, but he could tell she'd turn down the advice in the same manner.

"Well," Lockwood said, "what are you doing next?"

Her grip tightened on the fabric of her skirt. "I don't know."

"You could train with me," Lockwood offered gently. "I don't have an agency or anything, but-"

"I-I think I'll try that. Thank you, Lockwood."

"Also, I brought these." He handed her the bag of liquorice.

A slight smile appeared from under her hat.

Her swordsmanship was still intact. Lockwood could for sure confirm this after she'd disarmed him 5 times. She'd lost her will, though. She looked pained picking up a rapier and could barely glance at salt bombs. Lockwood didn't ask. It seemed too personal. Over the course of 3 months, nothing had changed. If anything, it seemed to be harder and harder for her to fight properly.

"Locky... I don't think I can do this."

"Do what?" Lockwood knew perfectly well what she was referring to. "You're amazing with your rapier, still."

"This whole... 'agent' thing. I-I don't think I can go back." She was incredibly vulnerable with no snarky remarks or sarcasm in her voice. It hurt him to see her like this. He'd once felt similar, in his pain-filled rage when Jessica died. He couldn't look at ghosts, couldn't bear to think of them. Unlike Florence, however, he'd had rage to direct toward ghosts; she just felt pain.

Lockwood nodded. "You're sure?"

"It's been 3 months. Every time- every time I can still see their bodies next to me. Hear the screams, see the Limbless. I can't do it."

He hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. But- what will you do?"

"I'll find something, I'm sure."

"I'm always here, Florence. I've been thinking about starting an agency, so if you need anything..."

Florence Bonnard smiled her classic grin. She patted his hair - he took so long gelling it in the morning.... Her blue eyes shone like the sea. "Don't worry yourself, Locky. I've got this."

For months, Florence wandered from thing to thing in search of replacement for being an agent. She hadn't found much. With the Problem raging, agents were in the highest demand, and it was hard to ignore all of the flyers and inquiries looking for one. Lockwood had been concerned she'd find nothing, constantly reminding her of his offer. One thing was clear, though: she was never becoming an agent again. She didn't need to say the words, but it was mutually understood even as Lockwood asked her to train with him.

Slowly, she gravitated toward relic collecting. It exercised her Talent, yet comforted her. She could be free from expectations, and not have to be perfect or clean; she could collect the relics on the River Thames and sell them. It would sustain her and calm her. Most importantly, it was an environment she was comfortable in.

As time went on, her straw hat became faded of color and gained splotches of mud on them. She traded her agent fit for a padded jacket and Wellington boots. It suit the job. For once, maybe she was happy.

"So, you're sure you don't want to become an agent?"

"Locky, the only reason I came was because you said you had liquorice. I'm perfectly happy as a relic woman." She smoothed down her padded jacket and adjusted her signature straw hat.

"I have my license now. I'm recruiting-"

"I'm happy where I am, thank you very much." She took a sip of tea and plopped a liquorice in her mouth.

Lockwood sighed. Florence Bonnard, as always, was impenetrably stubborn. she'd started going by Flo Bones, which was catchy, and fit her relic woman persona. Lockwood respected this. He could see how happy it made her, though not particularly sanitary. He recalled the day she'd first told him of her new occupation. They'd been sitting on the banks of the River Thames, near where Lockwood had comforted her the morning after tragedy struck her.

"So... you're becoming a Relicwoman? Where will you get the sources?"

"The river has enough," she gestured to the muddy shore of the river. "My Sight's been getting stronger."

"Be careful, Flor-"

"Oh, and Locky, I've started going by Flo Bones - it's quite fitting, don't you think? I like it. It's catchy." She'd lifted her hat, just enough to wink at Lockwood before pulling it down again.

"Well, my offer will always stand, Flo. You're a spectacular agent - you know my address. 35 Portland Row, hasn't changed."

"You haven't an agency to work for, Locky, have you?" Flo mused bluntly.

"Working on the license. I plan to open my own agency, agent run. What d'you reckon I call it? I was thinking 'Lockwood and Company.'"

Flo gave a grunt of approval. "'Lockwood and Co.' It's decent."

"Thanks, Flo."

She'd nodded. "Now go. I can't be seen hanging about the lots of the upper class. See you, Locky."

He pushed the bag of liquorices to her, the memory making him smile sadly. "It's all yours."

Lockwood couldn't find any agents willing to work for him. Flo, being one of his main friends, was painfully aware of this fact, subject to his forever hanging offer of employment.

"Oh, cheer up. Don't be lonely. You'll find someone. Lockwood & Co.! It'll be known through all of England." She softened for a second. "Anyway, I have an auction to attend." She stood up, bits of dirt falling from her jacket. "Bye, Locky!" He reached out to her then restrained himself - but she'd already exited 35 Portland Row, shutting the door behind her.

"Bye, Flo." He stared at the closed door, at his slightly outstretched hand. He could only hope she was right, and he'd find someone soon.

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #flo bones #florence bonnard #lockwood #the screaming staircase #lockwood x flo #what is the ship name for them???#fencing #fluff #jonathan stroud #fanfic #angst #lockwood fluff #lockwood angst #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #*silverspectre

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