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neewtmas · 5 months

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pairing: george karim x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: Reader is a solo agent who has a rather unfortunate first encounter with George. Even though both hope it was also the last, they will meet again sooner rather than later.

A/N: Something new from me after a few weeks! This is a tentative first chapter of a little series I might write - I have some ideas but nothing exactly figured out yet (also no title yet). Any feedback would be absolutely amazing and so very much appreciated🩷🧡

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you want to be added or removed, just send me an ask:))

masterlist

The key turned smoothly in the lock and you pushed open the door to your little apartment. The green paint of the door was chipped off at the edges and the hinges creaked terribly when the door swung open too slow, but at least with this one, you felt like locking it had an effect. No comparison to the shitty lock to the even shittier apartment you had started your career as a solo agent in two years ago.

The room was filled with the subtle blue glow of dawn, so there was no need to switch on the light as you walked over to your bed, avoiding stepping on the wrinkled clothes and books strewn all over the carpet. You turned on the small lamp on the bedside table, the warm light easy on your tired eyes as you slowly started to untie your sturdy boots. It had been an exhausting night, one of many in the past few weeks. You were glad that available cases weren't hard to come by currently, but that also meant working through most nights. Which in turn took a toll on your energy levels. But at least today, you could sleep in since you had decided to keep the next night free of any work with the supernatural, so there wasn't a need for research in the library either. The sun was already creeping up over the horizon, and even though the morning sky looked beautiful, you pulled the curtains closed to avoid having the sunshine on your face in just a few minutes. You fell asleep almost as soon as your face hit the pillow.

It was late afternoon when you woke up again. You wouldn't have minded just staying in your warm, cosy bed, curled up under the heavy blanket, but your grumbling stomach forced you to get up. Seeing as the day was almost over anyway - at this time of year the sun was setting early, and that meant businesses closed and people hid in their homes much sooner than they would in the summer. But you would still have enough time to get a fresh coffee and some delicious pastry from your favourite bakery if you left now. It wasn't the closest bakery from where your apartment building stood, but it was the one you often stopped by on the way to the archives and they had the best coffee in all of London.

Outside, the air was cold and crisp, the sidewalk littered with autumn leaves in all different colours, some stomped into the mud by the people that had walked there before you, some submerged in puddles from last night's rain. You burrowed your hands in the pockets of your thick winter coat, letting your eyes wander over the beautiful facades of the houses you walked by. You were now in a part of London that was much nicer to look at than where you lived, but you'd probably never see any of those houses from the inside. Even if there were supernatural incidents, this kind of people tended to hire Fittes or Rotwell or any one of the bigger agencies. Not solo agents like you.

A few minutes later, you walked by one of the houses that always caught your eye. The little wooden sign that was attached to the ornate fence in front of the short walkway up to the door read A.J. Lockwood & Co Investigators

You knew who Lockwood was. You weren't his biggest fan, mainly because the one time you met, he had beaten you in a fencing competition. Though the fact that he had also beaten Quill Kipps had somewhat redeemed him in your eyes. Kipps was by far one of the most annoying people you ever had the displeasure of working with, and seeing him poked in the behind by someone several years younger than him had made your defeat sting a little less. You were aware Lockwood had his own agency, but really only since the events at Combe Carey Hall that had sent shockwaves through all of England. Ever since then, they had been in the paper now and then, and you had read every article intently. Even though you told yourself you weren't that interested in them.

Darkness was approaching faster than you had expected and so you sped up a little. The streets were already almost deserted, except for a frail-looking older lady on the other side of the street, but she was clearly in a hurry as well. When you reached the bakery - just a few minutes before closing time- it was empty. You greeted the older man behind the counter, who was already in the process of preparing your usual coffee order as he had seen you approach through the big windows at the front of the shop. You chatted a little with him as you picked out the pastry that you wanted to accompany your coffee. At this late hour, the display was almost emptied. "Do you still have one of the doughnuts with the orange jam filling?", you asked, and the man shook his head apologetically. "I did save one for you just in case you'd stop by, but I just got an order in and unfortunately they came first." He gestured to a small package behind him that contained six different doughnuts. Your favourite, the one with orange jam, sat right on top, almost as if it was mocking you.

Oh well, there wasn't anything you could do. You picked one of the muffins that were still available and searched in your coat pockets for some change to pay for the muffin and the coffee. The man handed you both over the counter and you thanked him. You turned around swiftly, eager to get back home, but you didn't get very far. The collision with the person that had suddenly appeared in front of you knocked the air out of your lungs. You managed to hold on to the paper bag with the muffin in it, but the coffee cup in your other hand was not so lucky. You squeezed it hard in an attempt to not drop it on the ground, but that just caused the plastic cover to pop off and hot coffee to spill all over your hand. You stumbled back, the pain from the scorching hot coffee penetrating your skin. You gritted your teeth to not yell obscenities at the person responsible for your mishap and put the coffee down on the counter. You grabbed some of the napkins that were placed there and patted yourself dry. The person you ran into was some curly-haired dude a little taller than you, and he just looked at you with a blank expression. "How about an apology?" you spat out, adding 'you asshole' in your head. You immediately wished you had said it out loud when he shrugged and uttered a bored-sounding "Sorry", clearly not meaning it. You watched him take the box of doughnuts and leave the bakery, not giving you another glance. "Here, take this." üöä.You turned to the man behind the counter and he held out a new cup of coffee that you took with a thankful smile. "Don't mind him. He's a little prickly at times." You scoffed. That wouldn't be your choice of words to describe this guy who not only caused you to spill coffee all over yourself like an idiot but also apparently stole the last of your favourite doughnuts available that day.

When you stepped back outside, the cold air felt soothing on your hand. Upon further inspection, the skin was just a bright, angry red, but there didn't seem to be any real injuries. Nevertheless, you were still angry about the interaction you just had. This guy had singlehandedly managed to ruin your first free day in several weeks. And then had not even given a proper apology after the whole fiasco was his fault. Your anger remained the whole way home, and it was only when you sat down at the small table in your apartment with the muffin and the coffee that your mood improved a little.

***********George's POV***************

It was a rainy afternoon, and so dark that the streetlamps were already switched on even though nightfall was still hours away. George had his eyes focused on the ground before him as he walked to not slip on one of the many wet leaves on the concrete. He had the hood of his puffer jacket pulled over his head, the box of doughnuts pressed against his chest in an attempt to protect it from the slight drizzle of rain. he was lucky that he still managed to get the usual selection even though he forgot to call until just half an hour ago. The book he had buried himself in after breakfast had been too captivating for him to think about any chores Lockwood had bestowed upon him. Including buying doughnuts for after dinner.

He kicked off his shoes in the hallway carelessly and trudged into the kitchen, where Lucy sat at the table, scribbling around on the thinking cloth. Lockwood stood at the stove, stirring a soup of rather questionable colour in a pot. He put the slightly crumbled package on the table and Lucy immediately pulled it over to her.

"The one with orange jam is mine", George said immediately and he didn't miss the way Lucy rolled her eyes as she picked one of the plain powered ones. "Tell me something new", Lucy mumbled through her mouthful of doughnuts. George ignored her and started pulling out bowls from one of the cupboards to set the table. Lockwood's soup tasted much better than it looked, and for a while the three of them sat in silence, the only sound the scraping of the spoons against the porcelain bowls.

"Some girl spilt coffee all over herself at Arif's today", George broke the silence while he helped himself to a second serving of soup. "What?" "I come in, she turns around and runs straight into me. I'm lucky she didn't pour it over me." Lucy finished her portion of the soup and pushed the empty bowl away from her. "Couldn't you have just stepped aside?", she asked. George huffed. "Why would I? She has eyes, she can see where she goes. But based on how she demanded an apology from me immediately she probably doesn't see it that way." He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Anyways, it's not like I'm ever gonna see her again."

thanks for reading <3

#george karim x reader #george x reader #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood & co x reader

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thethinkingcloth · 1 year

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quill f. kipps

L&Co Appreciation Week, Day 3: Favorite minor character

Quill Kipps (Moodboard/Phone Background)

#l&coaw2023 #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #l&co #quill kipps #quill kipps my beloved

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oblivious-idiot · 1 year

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Hi ! Do you write for Quill Kipps too ? If so, is it possible to have something with Quill meeting the reader for the first time please? 🙇🏻‍♀️

The Recruitment Fair

AN: Thank you so much for this request!! It took me a few different plot ideas before this came to me, so I hope you like it!

Warnings: Fluff, young Quill Kipps

Word count: 1k

Pairings: Quill Kipps x fem!Reader

Once a year, the Fittes Agency opened its doors to young aspiring agents, giving them a tour around the headquarters and showing new recruits what it would be like to work there. Most of the time Fittes would require a letter of recommendation from the agents' current supervisors and to have passed their grade four exam, but the recruitment fair was a way for young agents to join the agency early and complete their training with them.

Almost as soon as you had passed your grade four exam, a letter dropped through your letterbox, Fittes Agency, London was stamped onto the top corner of the envelope and you let out a squeal of excitement. You had been sent the details to the recruitment fair, just like your supervisor Mr Hendricks had promised to sign you up for. You were 15, turning 16 soon, so you knew being able to spend the next few year using your talent for the biggest agency in the country was always a goal of yours. Your supervisor had always said you were hardworking and a natural born leader, as well as being an exceptionally gifted Listener, and although he would be sad to see you leave his little local agency he knew he couldn't stop you for going to London.

As you stepped off the train into Kings Cross station, you could already tell the atmosphere of the city was different from that of your small village, the ghost lamps hanging dormant in the late morning sun, the familiar smell of iron and lavender filling your nose. You found a nearby map and searched for the Fittes House on the Strand, planning out which tube you would have to take in order to get there "Piccadilly line, perfect" you muttered to yourself and you headed to the underground station.

You weren't sure what to expect when it came to the Fittes House, let alone what the recruitment fair would have in store, but the sheer expanse of the banners, music, and bustling people around the building absolutely took your breath away. As you walked into the centre of the building you looked up and gasped, for the ceiling looked like it spanned at least 6 or 7 floors, you'd never seen anything quite like it. Pulling you out of your excited daze you heard a soft voice getting your attention "Excuse me miss, are you here for the fair?" it was a young guy, maybe a little older than you by the looks of it, wearing the signature silver Fittes uniform "Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I must've got carried away, I've always wanted to come here" you admitted sheepishly, which just made the boy chuckle "I'm more than happy to show you around and get you aquatinted with the building, if you'd like?" he asked, shooting you a charming smile before holding his hand out for a shake "I'm Quill Kipps by the way."

Quill took the time to take you all around the fair, making sure to introducing you to each member of the agency that was working and helping in any way that he could, but soon it came to lunch and you had started to become hungry from your long morning "Hey, so I was wondering if you knew any good spots for lunch?" you asked as you checked your watch "Oh yes of course! I know an insane bagel place if you wanted to go?" he gave you a soft, almost nervous smile and attempted to tame his short blond curls "I would absolutely kill for a bagel sandwich right now" you admitted, which made the two of you laugh. The two of you seemed to get along quite well, and he continued to help you out throughout the rest of the fair if you needed it.

By the end of the day, it was getting late and curfew wouldn't be long, so you thanked him for all of his help "I've really appreciated all of your help today, especially for lunch! Now I just have to hope I'll get in, I've always wanted to work here" "Oh I wouldn't worry about it, you're references are exceptional and we could do with more Listeners like you on the team" Kipps admitted to you, before pulling out a scrap of paper from his pocket and scribbling on it "Here, so you can tell me the good news yourself" he smiles as passes you the paper with his phone number scribbled on.

You had gotten into the Fittes agency, and before you knew it you had moved to London to be battling the worse Visitors you had ever seen. You wouldn't even notice the years passing, working with Quill everyday without fault, watching him become your team supervisor and his ego getting bigger, which you would have to reign in for him on occasion.

You held a polaroid picture in your fingers, one that you kept in your wallet at all time - it was of you and Quill when you first met, fresh faced and full of life. The two of you had grown up in many ways, seeing the horrors of being an agent, watching your colleagues die in your arms, battling relic men and vicious Visitors alike, but seeing the two of you so young always made you smile. "Are you ready to go?" Quill asked, poking his head around your door into your room "What've you got there?" He queried as he came to sit next to you on the bed "It's us, from when I first joined Fittes, do you remember?" "As if it was yesterday. I must say, I've definitely gotten better looking with age" he joked as he picked up the picture to get a better look "Oh you wish Quill" you teased, which he just pushed you away playfully "Alright, not more special treatment for you then" he grinned and handed you the picture back "Come on, before Barnes bites my head off for being late."

#allie writes #quill kipps x reader #quill kipps x you #quill kipps #lockwood and co #lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #35 portland row #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co imagines

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thebiscuitrule · 1 year

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Lockwood & Co. Appreciation Week Day 4: favorite ship

———

“If you asked Kipps, he would say that the phrase “love is blind” came about the second Lucy and Lockwood first looked at each other.

Or: Kipps notices things. Lucy is in denial. And Lockwood’s just a friend, right?”

(aka: outsider pov of the locklyle relationship but the outsider is none other than Quill Kipps)

#it’s super short but I didn’t have time for much else #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #l&co. netflix #l&coaw2023 #locklyle

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mellkellyismyhero · 1 year

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and another thing about kipps!

In some ways, he’s Jacobs’ foil.

Spoilers for Lockwood and Co. books under the cut.

Both Kipps and Jacobs are ex-Fittes agents, now supervisors, who've lost a lot of kids under their commands. When they lost their Talents, they couldn’t bear to leave behind the ghost hunting industry. At some point, they’re both the only adult on a ghost hunting team with Lucy Carlyle.

But while Jacobs doesn’t have the resources, bravery, or ability to either rejoin the fight alongside his kid agents or leave the agency entirely, Kipps is actively throwing himself into haunted houses completely blind.

While Jacobs couldn’t bring himself to go into a haunted house with children he was supposed to keep safe, I’m pretty sure Kipps went right to the Other Side with L&Co. in TEG (I don’t remember if he had a choice or not about that- were they being chased or something? I don’t have my copy on hand). Either way, he was willing to keep fighting without his goggles. He threw his lot in with Lockwood and Co., even when they made fun of him or ganged up against him. This man got nearly DIED because he wasn’t willing to leave the life of an agent behind.

(Man, once I get my hands on my copy of TEG... I annotated that thing when I was like fourteen. To this day, the only physical books I’ve ever annotated are because I had to for class, OR because they were written by Jonathan Stroud. I’m going to reread the series and come back in a couple weeks with a much better analysis of how Jacob and Kipps' characters definitely rhyme lol.)

#quill kipps #lockwood and co #l&co #l&co.#jacobs #lockwood and co book spoilers #lockwood and co spoilers #quill kipps appreciation

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lockwood-fic-recs · 3 months

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Could I please request some fics with Kipps and his team as the focus? Or just anything Fittes related💙

yes!! we need more kipps-centric content fr with him and his team <33 thanks for submitting this ask so we have an excuse to appreciate them!!

take pride in what is sure to die by the_one_that_fell | T | Lucy & Quill | Series (8 works)

Lucy and Quill find a tentative friendship in shared trauma.

2. circumscribe, eight-two-five by noirshitsuji | T | Quill/Jessica, Fittes Team | Oneshot

Quill Kipps has a life that only makes sense when told in fragments.

3. Bread, Banter and Bleach by you_need_a_ladder | T | Fittes Team | Oneshot

After an exhausting time at the archives, Kat, Ned and Bobby take a trip to Kipps's flat. They (minus Ned) do not expect the shocking revelation of their visit.

4. I think I've seen this film before by Renaissancebee | G | Fittes Team | 3 Chapters (In Progress)

What happened to Kipps after Chelsea? Why don't we hear about his team anymore?

5. Team Assets by the_one_that_fell | T | Fittes Team | Oneshot

Quill finds himself in the awkward position of telling his team he wants to hire Lucy Carlyle.

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elysianrey · 1 year

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s�� ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴍᴇ sᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡɪɴ' ᴍʏ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ

sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴ' ɪɴ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀʏɪɴ' ɪ'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ

ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

ɪᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴs ᴏᴜᴛ ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴ' ʙᴜᴛ ᴍɪssɪɴ' ʏᴏᴜ

ᴡɪsʜɪɴ' ɪ'ᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ

ɪ'ᴅ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ

ɪ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

↳ day 5: favorite ship (rare pair): quill kipps x jessica lockwood

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co spoilers #lockwood and co edit #jessica lockwood #quill kipps #Jessica Lockwood x Quill Kipps #what they had was real okay?#it exists to me #rarepair #lockwood and co aesthetic #I get so sad thinking about them #don’t get me started on all the headcanons I have #they loved each other #l&coaw2023 #lockwood and co appreciation week

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czenzo · 28 days

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czenzo fic masterlist

All for the Game | The Foxhole Court

♠︎ Overcome ( G / 3,495 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten, Sir & King, Animal Sickness, Domestic Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending

♠︎ red plaid, yellow stitching ( E / 1,306 ) – ao3

Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau, Pining, Plaid Pants, Shower Masturbation, Fantasising

♠︎ soft and sweet, firm and steady ( E / 1,658 ) – ao3

Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten, Post-Canon, Weight/Muscle Gain, Thigh/Arm/Stomach Fixation, Soft Beefy Andrew Appreciation

—

Ao No Exorcist | Blue Exorcist

♠︎ The Joys of Working Retail ( G / 5,039 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Okumura Yukio/Shima Renzo, Alternate Universe: Convenience Store, Modern AU

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Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

♠︎ Go Big or Go Home ( G / 4,348 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Aizawa Shota | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi, Sickfic, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort

♠︎ Misguided Ghosts ( M / 4,292 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Aizawa Shota | Eraserhead & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Alternate Universe – Lockwood & Co, Ghosts, Angst

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Carry On | Simon Snow

♠︎ On the Hunt ( M / 8,402 / ongoing ) – ao3 / tumblr

Simon Snow/Baz Pitch, Werewolf Simon, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

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Haikyuu!!

♠︎ nobody loves you like I do ( G / 5,862 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss

—

Heartstopper

♠︎ falling for you all over again ( G / 3,445 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Nick Nelson/Charlie Spring, Temporary Amnesia, Comfort, Group Chat Shenanigans

♠︎ Nick and Charlie (& Nellie) ( T / 3,381 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Nick Nelson/Charlie Spring, 5+1 Things, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Nellie getting excited and interrupting

♠︎ Seven Years ( M / 16,259 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Nick Nelson/Charlie Spring, Post-Canon, Post-Break Up, Adult Nick & Charlie, Exes to Friends to Lovers

♠︎ Thick Thighs Save Lives ( E / 2,974 ) – ao3

Nick Nelson/Charlie Spring, Post-Canon, Thigh and Ass Fixation/Worship, Mutual Masturbation

—

Harry Potter | Marauders

♠︎ now I hold the guilt on my hands ( E / 1,662 ) – ao3

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/James Potter, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex (sort of), University AU

♠︎ you fit well together ( T / 8,693 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, 5+1 Things, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship

—

Inazuma Eleven

♠︎ food (and a kiss) is the best medicine ( G / 3,585 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Genda Koujirou/Sakuma Jirou, Sick Fic, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss

—

Lockwood & Co.

♠︎ Consequences ( T / 2,335 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Fluff & Humour, poor attempts to cover up a hickey

♠︎ In Record Time ( T / 5,117 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lucy Carlyle/Quill Kipps/Anthony Lockwood, Soulmate AU (shared injuries), Light Angst, Sharing A Bed

♠︎ Just An Act ( T / 6,360 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Case Fic, Jealousy, First Kiss

♠︎ Misdial ( G / 20,348 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Modern/University AU, called the wrong number AU, First Kiss

♠︎ Revenge ( T / 1,514 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, sequel to Consequences

♠︎ Skullyle Internet Friends Series – ao3 / tumblr

Pretty Boy ( T / 2,086 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Missed Call ( T / 3,440 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lucy Carlyle/The Skull, minor/brief Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Internet Friends, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Mutual Pining

♠︎ step into the moonlight (and throw your weight into me) ( G / 1,439 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lucy Carlyle & Anthony Lockwood, Angst and Comfort, Book Spoilers

♠︎ The Final Applicant ( G / 2,832 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lockwood POV, Lucy’s interview, Rewritten Canon

♠︎ Young, Alive, Together ( T / 4,363 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Valentine’s Day, Angst, Poltergeists, First Kiss

—

The Quarry

♠︎ Summer Loving ( M / 13,097 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Abigail Blyg/Nick Furcillo, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Pre-Canon, Rewritten Canon, Post-Canon

♠︎ The Quarry: Prologue ( M / 6,433 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Rewritten Canon: the game’s prologue, in the form of a written story

—

Yuri!!! On Ice

♠︎ meet me in the morning when you wake up ( T / 1,391 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Angst, Death, Old Age, Memory Loss

♠︎ sea, sand, and sun lotion ( G / 849 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Beach Day, Fluff

♠︎ warmth ( G / 782 ) – ao3 / tumblr

Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, Blizzards & Snowstorms

#this was in dire need of a update #if you spot any broken links/incorrect tags lmk! :)

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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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