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maxlarens · 2 months ago

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hello jack doohan lovers. pls excuse any weird characterisation etc, i’ve never written jack before and am writing this because @coff33andb00ks gave me brain worms about this idea for jack x oscar’s childhood bsf!reader:

Oscar’s your friend. Your oldest friend in fact.

Which is to say you’re proud of him and his big boy job as a Formula One driver. And, of course, you’re endlessly grateful for the opportunity to follow him around the world in return for your services as his social media lackey. It’s a job you enjoy even. Which is not to say that you’ve got any kind of ulterior motive to show up on race weekends—

Nope. None at all!

It’s certainly got nothing at all to do with the fellow Australian Flynn Rider-lookalike that hangs around Alpine hospitality. Nothing whatsoever.

Jack Doohan isn’t even on your radar. And you certainly don’t keep an eye out for a flash of warm brown hair or that Roman nose of his. The familiar Australian accent in a crowd, grey-blue eyes shining in the sun, the tooth that often catches on his bottom lip—

No. You don’t pay attention to Jack Doohan at all.

Well, at least not as far as Oscar is concerned.

Cootie-ridden, annoying, pain-in-your-arse, Oscar.

Who as far as you know, thinks you’re still seven years old and pushing him into the sandpit in your parent’s backyard. Who honestly thinks all boys look at you and still see the little girl with pigtail braids who used to play race-cars with him. Which, well, is the same way you look at Oscar and see the kid who used to pick his boogers and spend hours reading his favourite racing magazine to you when you just wanted to play Barbies.

So whatever, you’re even—

You think his girlfriend is crazy for being in love with him and he doesn’t think Jack Doohan has a crush on you.

Oh yeah: you think Jack Doohan has a crush on you. Or you might have a crush on Jack Doohan, who’s to say?

It’s really not some baseless accusation you’re spouting with no evidence. Again, Oscar just thinks you still have cooties. And, okay, y’know what, see for yourself—

You swear this time you’re only outside Alpine hospitality on accident. Oscar and Lando are wrapped up in some McLaren PR thing and you’re filming B-roll of the paddock to use in a reel you’re thinking about making. Ending up by Alpine was a total mistake.

Not that it bothers you much when the object of your affection turns up regardless.

You hear the scuff of shoes against gravel and feel a presence hovering at your back before you know it’s him. Somehow, you know it’s him anyway. As if you’re linked by some cosmic thread. As if you’re attuned to his very aura… Not that you believe in that stuff. But it is weird. The way you know him without sight.

You feel his hair tickle your cheek as he leans over your shoulder, all up in your space.

You don’t mind.

“Hard at work, huh?” he teases into your ear, his breathy laugh making you suppress a shiver.

“Mm hm,” you answer, tight lipped, trying to keep the camera stabilised despite yourself, “Doin’ my job.”

He moves away and you finally hit the button to stop recording. You spin around to face him, trying not to let a full-blown grin appear on your face. He’s doing something similar, half-grin, that snaggletooth you like so much on display. Eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“Was that a jab at me?”, he raises his eyebrows (can’t raise just one, you’ve discovered).

You make a face, shake your head, “No, I would never,” you tell him in an exaggerated tone that says you’re taking the piss.

He scoffs, points a finger at you, “I’ll have you know that I was on the sim until three in the morning.”

You laugh this time, loud, tucking your phone into your back pocket and trying to resist the urge to lean into him like girls do in the movies. Hand on his shoulder, folding in half, like he’s just said the funniest thing ever. Like he’s not just some guy with brown hair and pretty eyes.

“Yeah, I know, Jack. You don’t let anyone forget it.”

His eyes widen impishly, “People need to know.”

“Sure do,” you smile broadly; meaning it, also taking a bit of a jab at Alpine’s chronic ‘middle-of-the-pack’-ness without being too mean, “Where would Alpine be without you?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “In the gutter, with Williams, probably.”

You both burst suddenly into a fit of laughter. Neither one of you leaning on the other, but close to it. You’re sure it looks suspicious— Oscar Piastri’s known best friend and Alpine’s reserve driver bent over and giggling with each other— but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Being around Jack is intoxicating.

He makes your head spin and your heart race and your chest feel like it’s got some yawning sun inside of it. When you’re with him you always want more. To hear him talk, to watch his expressions shift, to feel him, warm and there and next to you. It’s never enough.

You want you want you want,

He occupies your mind when he’s not around. You think back on your texts. Interactions that the two of you have had. How he looked on a certain day. If you’re being too annoying by replying to his Instagram stories—

It shouldn’t matter. It does anyway. You want him to like you, so desperately that there’s an ache pulsing in the middle of your chest. Right in the centre of your ribs.

Sometimes, you think he wants you to like him too.

You’re drunk on it— him, the laughter— it makes your fingers tingle when you look at him. Not sure if this is the Moment exactly, but feeling something in the air anyway. The way his mouth is parted, the way the corner of it lifts. It’s not the Something, but it is something. Or at least it’s something until,

well, until Oscar—

Oscar who comes barreling over like there’s not palpable electricity between you and Jack right now.

“Hey man,” he says, as you’re watching them dap each other up like Oscar isn’t totally ruining any chance to flirt further with the Alpine reserve driver. You roll your eyes covertly. Huff audibly when Oscar drags you away for PR duties. Send Jack a beaming smile over your shoulder anyway, get one in return that makes you all warm and fuzzy and hopeful.

Oscar side eyes you, “Why do you look all red?”

You raise an eyebrow, hair flicking into your own face as you snap your head to look at him, “Excuse me?”

He gestures at his own face, then points at yours, “Dunno. You’re all red. Did you say something embarrassing to Jack? He probably doesn’t care—”

“Oh my god,” you cut him off, “Are you that blind?”

He frowns, furrows his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

You jut a thumb at Alpine hospitality in the distance, careful to keep your voice low, “You don’t think there was something back there? Like between Jack and I?”

Oscar stares at you for a long moment. Dumbfounded. Utterly confused. So much so that you begin to get annoyed at his silence. What does it say that your boy-best-friend can’t even imagine a guy having a crush on you? Are you really that insane for thinking Jack might?

“You and Jack?” he asks.

“Jack and I,” you repeat, tone clipped.

He’s quiet for another long second. Then he’s shaking his head like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard,

“No,” he’s saying in that way that’s trying to sound like a maybe but betrays his true feelings on the matter.

You scoff indignantly, then shove him hard enough that he stumbles into a wall. He’ll eat his words one day, you know it.

hope u guys enjoyed🥺

#jack doohan x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #💫drabbles #drabbles:jd #f2 x reader #<- that counts right???

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heart2beom · 2 years ago

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totally unlabeled kisses

➞ pairing: best friend!beomgyu x f!reader

➞ synopsis: in which you and beomgyu teeter between being normal best friends and well...best friends who makeout from time to time.

➞ genre: fluff, comedy, b2l

➞ notes: i just realized how much im going to exhaust this trope on the blog, with the event + my other big fic...oooh, there's going to be some repetition here. by the time i'm done, won't be able to write anything b2l related. request + request.

taglist: @boba-beom , 700 event masterlist!

Questions you've grown to be annoyingly accustomed to at some point in your life: "What college are you going to?" — that one was a pain for a few months, "When are you getting married?" — this one’s going to be a pain for a few decades, "Is it that time of the month again?" — you sorta learn to filter this question out of your head.

Questions you haven't built tolerance for: "Are you guys together?"

It's ten times more aggravating when it’s always, always about the same person. Y'know, none other than the annoying, but to his credit, somewhat funny, and sorta loveable goofball that is Choi Beomgyu.

Each time, you'd say a similarly repetitive response: "No, we're just friends." Which is exactly what it was. Beomgyu is your best friend. Has been your best friend— for, like, forever.

Starting right from the torturous tween stage that was middle school, to now, it's the question that followed you both to the hells of earth. The era of awkward bowlcuts and invisaligns that fooled no one have been long behind you, yet it seemed that the theory you and Beomgyu were secretly together never passed. Ever.

Sure, you get it, it's the childhood friends to marriage descend that gets everyone swooning, but that was totally not you and Beomgyu.

Even after what happened two months ago. You decided to lean a little too close that day, and somehow, your lips captured his, at a house party, in god knows whose closet. You’re not sure why you went for it—you liked to blame the drinking game you played a little before this, or the darkness of the closet, or the way his breathing was magnified to your ears, how it synced with yours. You don’t even remember how you got in the closet with him.

What you do remember is how the kiss was a little hesitant and trying, tongue testing the waters before Beomgyu decided on his own to tilt his head at an angle, turning the chaste kiss into a little more.

You liked it.

You liked how his lips were soft, yet the slight roughness of the kiss had you forgetting it was Choi fucking Beomgyu you had your arms around—the boy you’ve seen pick his boogers more times than you’d like to count. His rather large hands cupped your cheeks, still kissing you like his life depended on it.

You call it the Closet incident.

…There were lots of repeats of the Closet incident.

On top of a kitchen counter, in front of your flat’s entrance, in the hallway of Beomgyu’s dormitory, on the couch, in a movie theater as your unknowing friends sat a seat in front of you focused on the gore scene, in Beomgyu’s rusted, mario kart that he calls a car. But obviously, no feelings involved. Obviously.

"Can you make me look good this time?"

You scoff incredulously. "I always make you look good."

It’s a Friday and Beomgyu came over to your place to pick you up for your friend dates, like usual. Which consisted of going to the mall, then a trip to the local movie theater, and finally getting your favorite frozen yogurt. His go-to flavor being red velvet, and yours good ol’ chocolate mint. You never hear the end of it from Beomgyu.

"I have something to ask by the way." Beomgyu throws his head back on the couch, staring up at you. He’s situated on the floor, between your legs as you braid his hair. What? It’s therapeutic.

“You know how Heeseung asked you if you were dating anyone yesterday?”

“Turn your head to the left, Gyu.” you mutter, eyes narrowing as you focus on his hair, taking the braiding pretty seriously. “And yeah? What about it?”

He doesn’t budge, arms lazily crossed. “Why’d you tell him no?”

Your fingers stop the braid, blinking a few times down at Beomgyu. “Because…I’m not dating anyone.”

He naively blinks a few times, still staring up at you, before cracking a weirdly conflicted smile, as if he got to his senses. Then he turns his head to the left like you asked him to earlier, “Oh, yeah, I mean… yeah.”

You manage to give him a quick smile back, albeit a little stiff, as you refocus your attention on his hair again. But it’s near damn impossible, thoughts as to what Beomgyu was trying to imply clouding your head too much for proper focus.

What’d he want you to say? You weren’t dating anyone, Beomgyu knew, you knew, everyone knew. But he was still confused in those three seconds, as if that wasn’t true. And that had your head in a jumble.

It wasn’t like this was the only thing he’s done or said that had you questioning what he felt about you was a little more than platonic.

Like, yesterday as an example, when Beomgyu showed up by your side, presumably out of nowhere, a hand wrapped around your waist when Heeseung approached you.

Or the time you were playing truth or dare and Taehyun asked him if he liked anyone that was in the room, and you swear he found your eyes for a few seconds before smiling and downing his drink— choosing to leave the question unanswered, the rest groaning of how he was no fun.

You’re reading too much into things…right?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about at the time of your slumber. And it made the occasional, random makeout sessions that much more impactful. Your finger lingering on your lip, starstruck after just a single peck from Beomgyu, as if you were a middle schooler who just got her first kiss.

“What do you think?”

He looks at himself through his phone’s camera at every possible angle, a genuine smile creeping up his face, “It’s so cute, I love it.” When he practically jumps on you, you fall to a laying position, and laugh. He resembled a puppy. “I told you you should be a hairstylist.”

The proximity of his face near yours doesn’t faze you—or you at least hope it looks like that. You quirk a brow, “Since when?”

He taps his index finger on his temple, “Telepathy. I tell you everyday through telepathy.”

Surprisingly, that gets you to snort, broken completely out of your previous reverie— he was ridiculous.

“I like it so much I want to kiss you.”

He’s quick to follow through, landing a silly peck on your lips. You know it didn’t even look that good, but he still managed to make you feel like you gave him the hairstyle of the century. Which had no business making your heartbeat just a tinge faster. Oh, it’s bad for you.

You adjust your position by attempting to sit up straight. He catches that, a confused smile as he gets off you. You purse your lips, the awkward silence not a bother as you think of ways you could put all your confusion the past few weeks into one simple sentence.

“Beomgyu, do you… like me?”

You can tell that by the sudden question, he’s taken back, the corner of his lips falling. Before he does his habit again, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, a hesitant grin plastered on his face. “I mean, isn’t it a little obvious?”

You furrow your brows. “Uh no, no it wasn’t …obvious!” It wasn’t! Beomgyu was naturally a romantic, how would you catch that he was serious?

He raises his brows. “What, did you think I kissed you all these times because I was doing it for the shits and giggles?”

You think over it for a second. “…Let’s be real, you did have a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public.”

“Busted.” he puts up his hands as mock retreat, then sighs, “But for reason. This isn’t how I thought this…would go. But, yeah…I do like you. In the gross romantic way. Maybe L-word you too. I don’t know, I just know that my heart dumbly wholeheartedly believes that you’re my soulmate. For whatever reason.”

You feel your mouth dry, looking up at Beomgyu, your movement still. “Since when?”

Beomgyu chews down on his bottom lip, hesitating before he quietly says, “Since you got me the cookie and cream ice cream sandwich as an apology for saying my ex-girlfriend was butt ugly.”

It’s so comically specific yet it’s still funny how you immediately say, “Seventh grade.” Because you also remember, you very clearly remember the day Beomgyu had bawled his eyes out, because he just got dumped, and your attempt of trying to comfort him by saying he had awful taste. Turns out, people don’t like being told that their ex wasn’t good looking fresh out of the relationship.

The fury you felt at the sight of seeing Beomgyu so sad could’ve been explained by just the fact that you were extremely close friends, but you’re now left wondering if you also liked him a little back then.

“I like you too.”

Beomgyu huffs out a laugh through his nose, shaking his head, “You don’t have to say that just because I said it. I don’t cry over rejections anymore.”

Your eyes wander down to his lips for a split second. Then to the man in front of you, his loose fitted signature flannel so…Beomgyu. His quirky styled hair, so fitting on him. No matter how much he matured, his features undeniably handsome, he was still the boy you proudly call a best friend. Your best friend. “No, I like you. In the gross romantic way.”

You’re more sure now in comparison to seven years ago.

He falls silent, staring at you before he lets out a quiet, “Oh.”

You sit there, playing with your hands as you wait for Beomgyu to say something a little more than that. You’re not sure what’s going through his head, you often feel like, even after knowing him for so long, you don’t know what happens in there. At all.

You’re caught off guard when you feel Beomgyu’s familiar lips on yours, but quickly linger against them, letting him take a hold of you, as he was above you again.

You feel his smile break into the kiss and you stop for a moment. "Are we a couple now?" he asks, barely a whisper. You nod.

"We swore to everyone this would never happen." You swore to yourself that you didn’t like Beomgyu ‘like that’. Always so sure, so sure that he was nothing but a friend.

Everyone saw it but you. How idiotic did you look?

"Exactly. We're never going to hear the end of it. But..."

"But... it's worth it?" you finish his sentence.

You like the way his eyes glint under the dim light of your living room. You like the curve of the ends of his lips, the way they create the cutest, most adorable whisker dimples. He lays his forehead on yours. "Like, thirty thousand times worth it."

"People usually say a million..." you tease with a tilt of your head.

His breath fans against your skin before smiling and leaning his head in for another kiss. He catches you by surprise again, but this time you’re a little more prepared, your arms quickly finding their way, hanging off your freshly new boyfriend slash best friend for life’s shoulder. But then he pulls away.

Way too fast. "That was to shut you up for being a smartass." You're slightly left out of breath, your chest softly rising and falling as you look at him confused.

“And this…” He kisses the tip of your nose, “Is for not turning down Heeseung yesterday and making me stupidly, ridiculously sulky."

You catch onto what he’s doing, giggling, but still ask "What are you doing, idiot?"

He doesn't stop, still as smiley as ever. He kisses the temple of your cheek, "This is for all the years I've chased after your oblivious ass."

Your other cheek, "This is for…”

Suddenly, he peppers kisses all over your face and your giggles turn into full on laughter the more he kisses all over your skin— it's ticklish. When he stops and it's silent you feel the energy shift. You ask the pending question with a whisper, "And what was that for?"

Silence overtakes him as he stares down at you, a faint smile on his face.

"For all the decades I'll spend loving you."

notes: reblogging [the little sign by the heart button] helps push this fic! it's the main thing that helps me out and its what tumblr's algorithm picks up on!! thoughts are appreciated, always ^^ ❤

#txt fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu drabbles #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #txt fic #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt drabbles #txt x reader #txt series

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impishjesters · 1 year ago

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jax with a fem! rabbit reader pregnant of his litter of 6 bunnies (3 boys and 3 girls) and everything went well with y/n and the lil bunnies who are at the moment blind, hairless and deaf...

warning(s): it's honestly just some soft new dad Jax note(s): Since they aren't actual bunnies I didn't really include the blind and deaf part, but they are very much hairless. They are baby-sized though, I blame a fanart I saw once with Jax and his lil mini-copy babies and had to draw inspo from it. Also not mentioned but Jax was just being a lil shit, some of the kits do take after you. A/N: You can't tell me Jax (even as a joke) wouldn't try and name his kids after himself in some horrible manner.

Exhaustion still rang high even after a quick nap, popping out six babies would do that to you you suppose. You’d caught a decent glimpse at all the kits when they were cleaned up but once everything was done and clean and you were taken care of, you conked right out.

You woke to hushed whispers and a few cries, no doubt one of the kits being fussy. If anything you are amazed Jax has kept them so quiet—that or you were in a deep sleep. Probably the latter.

“Who’s being fussy?”

Jax mumbled a silent ‘fuck’, he didn’t mean to wake you, even if it wasn’t directly him who woke you. “I got ‘em, babe, you just rest.” He scooped up the fussy kit in question, giving them a gentle rock to try and soothe them.

“They’re probably hungry..” You moved to sit up and Jax rushed over to shove pillows behind you. “Hand ‘em over…”

He hesitated, so far it was just the one, but if they kept crying it was only a matter of time before the others did too. Jax carefully handed the kit over and simply watched you begin to breastfeed like it was nothing—not that you didn’t have practice with someone on your—

“I can practically hear you staring at my chest.” You gently ran your finger over the kit’s cheek while they fed, finally having a moment to really look over your little munchkins.

They looked like an exact copy of Jax, sans the thicker coat of fur, but you already knew they’d have to grow into it. Lightly tinted lilac skin and cute little ears tucked away, and if their eyes were opened there was little doubt they’d also have his eyes. “I carried these suckers for months, don’t tell me they all look like you.” You teased.

Jax snickered, perching himself on the edge of the bed to watch the two of you. Fuck, he was not prepared for just how beautiful you looked with his offspring. Sure you looked amazing when you were pregnant, that big ol’ belly was something he could see you wearing again in the future, but now? There was something breathtaking about seeing you holding a baby, his baby. And there were six of those little boogers.

“Sorry toots, these handsome genes are just too strong.” He ran a hand over his head, swiping his ears back before they sprung back up.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “that would be my luck. At least I didn’t get rug burn.”

The two of you share a quiet giggle at the joke before the kit pushes away from your chest. You burp the kit and not a moment after Jax takes them from you, laying them back down with their siblings.

“So I know we were struggling for names… and since they all took after me. I thought we could name them all after me.”

Coming up with six names had been a difficult task, but you did have a list—he was just being a little shit for the sake of seeing you smile.

“We are not naming our kids ‘Jax’.” You know he’s kidding but that doesn’t make the image any less scary, or stupid. Imagine Christmas with six little Jax’s and trying to differentiate all those damn presents.

He scoffed playfully. “Nah, there can only be one Jax. I was thinking Jaxson—” you let out a snort, “then there’s Jaxica, Jaxcella—”

“We are not naming them like that, oh my god.” Jax sat beside you with a playful pout and threw his arms carefully around you. “There will be no Jax-themed naming, at least give me one thing since they all look like mini yous.”

“Fiiiiine..” he groaned. “Guess I could be persuaded to let you name them all.” You lay your head on his shoulder, looking up at him curiously. “For a kiss.”

“Really? Our children’s names are on the line for a kiss? Avoiding years of future bullying by having the same Jax-themed names all boils down to one kiss?” What a goober. “You drive a hard bargain. Deal.”

The smile on your face is all he really needs, seeing you exhausted and stressed earlier made him annoyed for you. The nurses were stupid and making you more stressed than you needed to be—being a pain in your ass was his job, not theirs. Hell, he nearly decked someone earlier for upsetting you.

You nudged your face against him, he’d spaced out, and if you knew this man you knew he was no doubt thinking about something unnecessary. “Whatever it is isn’t important.”

“You’re very important, and so are those six little wrinkly nuggets.” he huffed. Leaning down he kissed you, it was gentle and sweet, like he was afraid of hurting you. Cute.

“That’s right I didn’t get to see, was the doctor right?”

“Three boys and three girls.”

You let out a groan, picturing all the future sit-downs and explanations you’d have to give to the girls and boys about heaven knows what. “You potty train the boys, I got the girls.”

“Deal.” He quickly spat out.

The two of you sat there quietly, just watching six little chests rise and fall until Jax cleared his throat catching your attention.

“I know it’s a ways off, but wanna really embarrass the kids by you giving the boys the sex talk and I’ll give the girls the period talk?”

You slapped his chest with your free hand, the other coming up to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, you are awful.”

“I’m not hearing a no.” he hummed.

“We’ll see, periods can be embarrassing and sensitive I don’t want you—”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not actually gonna be a dick, sheesh… I’m wounded you’d think I’d mess with my own kids—”

“You would.”

Jax pouted, giving you a little playful shake before dropping the topic as a whole. Yeah, he’d definitely prank his own kids—but that wasn’t until later on, he had to soak up all this cute baby shit for now.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

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ibbythebee · 1 year ago

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Hospital Wing Hermits

gif credit: @handknit on wattpad

pairing: Neville Longbottom x year younger!reader

summary: From Neville's second year at Hogwarts to his last, his most memorable times with you have been spent in the hospital wing.

genre: fluffiness all round, slight angst at the end... but only a little, slow-burny

warnings: this fic is so soft that you will potentially combust, slight swearing, SO MUCH hand holding, the reader is an oblivious goofball until she's not, kissing, talks about illnesses and injuries, blood and boogers

words: 6k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville's 2nd Year

Clutching onto Madame Pomfrey is nothing new to Neville. In the middle of the night, however, is a different story. The Nurse coos whenever the boy makes the slightest sound of pain, holding him up as not to put anymore pressure on his right foot.

"We're just about there, dear. Come on, just a few more steps..."

Leading him to the middle of the hospital wing's room, she then guides him onto an untouched bed, and immediately slides a pillow underneath his ankle. A spot of light on the opposite side of the room does not go unnoticed to either the woman or boy as soon as they had entered the room.

Neville rubs his eyes, squinting at the strange glowing mound of sheets. He watches as, with a sigh, Madame Pomfrey marches to the other preoccupied bed and pulls over the white covers to reveal you, a sheepish looking girl.

Under the light of your wand, your face looks puffy, lips and nose chapped, hair amuck. You cough into your elbow and smile a toothy innocent smile, batting your big eyes at the woman, silently pleading your innocence.

Pomfrey, however, does not play games. "Turn off that incessant light, Miss L/N. Do you realise what time it is?"

Your lips shape into a pout, voice stuffy as you answer. "But Madame Pomfrey, it's so boring here. I'm bored."

"No, you should be asleep. Turn that off right now. I don't want to have to send another owl to your mother about you refusing medical help."

"Just a few more minutes please? I'll finish the page I'm reading."

"Absolutely not. It's basic manners and respect for your fellow peer." She motions to Neville, and you finally turn to him.

Despite the fatigue in your features, your eyes seem to glow, piercing through the dark room. Perhaps it's just his lack of sleep or absence of light, but there is something drawing him to you and he fails to look away. Nothing comes out of his mouth even though he knows he's probably supposed to greet you, but neither do you.

A second longer you stare at your new roommate and in eventual defeat, you pout. The light from your wand fades, as you mumble 'nox' under your breath and get comfortable under the blankets.

Satisfied, Madame Pomfrey clears the rubbish bin underneath your bed and turns back to Neville handing him a small flask of some sort of healing potion.

"All right. Off to bed now both of you. Good night, dears."

You both mutter a 'goodnight', closing your eyes, gingerly pulling the covers up to your chins.

It stays mostly quiet in the room, apart from the Nurse's shuffling. Though as time passes, shoes click and click away, and then the door creaks shut.

"Psst!"

Neville stirs.

"Hey, psst!"

"Huh?" Is all Neville can manage, lifting his head with a groggy squint.

"What happened to you?" You ask in a loud whisper and sniffle. Sitting straight, and staring right at him. Your eyes really are big, inquisitive.

"Well I... twisted my ankle," he finally says.

"How?"

"I... I'd rather not say. It's embarrassing, really."

"I won't tell anyone," you say as-a-matter-of-factly. "You can hex me if I do."

He looks at you through narrow eyes again and this time it's your teeth that glow. As you show no interest in falling asleep, Neville's neck admits defeat and his head crashes back down onto the pillow. "Can we just please go to sleep?"

"I caught a cold... or maybe a fever. Runny nose—" you sniff, wiping your face with your pajama sleeve "—wet cough, high temperature. My mum says I have a weak immune system."

"Well, that's not very good, is it?" He comments half-heartedly to the ceiling.

"No, it isn't."

Silence. For a moment, he believes that you've finally surrendered yourself.

"So how'd you twist your ankle in the middle of the night?"

Never mind.

"You don't seem like a rule-breaker," you say.

He carefully shuffles up to sit and sighs. Where on earth did you get your energy from? He hadn't met such a talkative first year before.

Neville takes a moment to answer, debating on whether or not you're harmless enough for him to be vulnerable. "I had a nightmare, okay? I fell off my bed and... landed badly."

"Well, that's not very good, is it?" You echo.

"No, it isn't."

Silence once again ensues, but this time Neville's ready for your chatterbox mouth.

"What's your name? I'm..." You suddenly stop and he nearly laughs when your silhouette jerks and you sneeze. It's loud, like his Gran.

"Nice to meet you, Achoo." He chuckles, holding a hand over his mouth.

You sniff again, face hot in a new wave of humiliation, and this time you wipe your face with more aggression. "Hey, that's not funny! My name is — A-ACHHHOO!"

"Isn't that what I just said?" He can't help but laugh again. Relishing in the groan you emit and how furiously you blow your nose.

With a poke of your tongue, you retort. "Whatever, Mr... mm... Fall-out-of-bed...n-nightmare-broken-ankle-boy."

"Wow, that's really fantastic, Achoo." He slides back down into his bed, closing his eyes with content and tries to hold in his giggles as you continue with determination to clear up your mistake.

Initially, Neville thought he wouldn't even be able to get in a nap, but now with the understanding that you bark more than you bite, he creates a silly image of you in the form of a puppy. As your voice rings in the background, the puppy image barks with you, and he feels his eyes grow heavy, falling into a content and nightmare-less sleep.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 4th Year

Ever since sleeping the night in the hospital wing, Neville knew he'd be seeing more of you. It was surprising to him that he hadn't noticed you before that night, especially seeing as you were such a social butterfly. And despite being in the year below, he'd always manage to catch your eyes in the Great Hall. And in the courtyard. And in the halls. And through a classroom window. You were everywhere and anywhere. And when you weren't, you were in bed in the hospital wing.

Just like you are now. The fourteen-year-old hadn't seen you for the past few weeks after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, and needless to say, he had to see you.

And such a perfect opportunity had arose today, albeit a painful one, but an opportunity none the less.

Neville opens the door to the wing as gently as possible as not to wake you, however knowing you, you probably already were.

Entering the room, he clutches his sore hand to his ribs and cranes his neck to spot the nurse. Instead he finds your lying form under a mountain of blankets.

You stir, and Neville curses at his shoes for making so much noise. Sure, his intention of coming here was to see you, but he’d seldom seen you in such a peaceful state and didn’t want to ruin that for you.

“Neville?” He hears you say and then you’re facing him.

He smiles down at you, with a voice just as soft as silk. "Hey, Achoo. Didn't mean to wake you. How you feeling?”

“I’m feeling alright. Kinda headache-y, but fine. Ugh, what time is it?” You rub your eyes and stretch as you sit up.

The messiness of your bed-hair is incredibly endearing and the curve in Neville’s lips only grow at the sight.

��It’s third period.”

“Then… what are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

You’re suddenly on your feet, eyes round and wide, taking in the scene of the tall boy. He flinches, attempting to hide his hand in his robe sleeve.

You snatch his hand, bringing it close to your face. It’s a burn. All over the back of his palm. "Bloody hell— Where's Madame Pomfrey?"

"I was about to ask you the same question." A small chuckle falls from his lips as you examine him. Somehow, in some miracle he watches your big eyes grow larger as you twist his hand, move his long fingers to get as much information about his wound.

He feels like he’s going crazy, your touch is a new kind of burn on his skin. It doesn’t sting, but it is hot. And you don’t even know you’re causing it.

"She's always gone when you actually need her,” you huff.

"It's not as bad as it looks, really. Just hurts a little when I move it."

"What about when I...?" You drift off, as you slide a delicate thumb over his beet-red knuckles.

The tips of his ears turn the same shade of red. "Stings."

With no further words, he lets you pull him to one corner of the hospital wing, searching for a particular ointment on the many shelves of medical supplies. You don't let go of his hand, and he doesn't dare pull away.

"Let me guess how it happened—" you say, grabbing a round jar of blue gel to read the label.

"Seamus." You both state and then share a laugh.

Placing the jar back, you continue your search and Neville fills the comfortable silence. "It's Potions class. For once I thought I was doing pretty decent and then next thing I know, Seamus' cauldron blows up next to me and of course I get the damage."

His hand is held up to your face again and he watches as you grab a new jar with a less solid looking gel, creamy in colour.

"I suppose it's a good way for me to get out of the rest of the class," he shrugs.

"And get away from Snape," you quip and earn a chuckle from him. There was a time in Neville’s third year, when you had come to learn about his amusing boggart. He’d snuck into the hospital wing, claiming he had a nasty headache and ended up staying the night, neither of you getting a wink of sleep. It had also been revealed that the thing you were most frightened of was giants.

“Sit down,” your motioning to the mattress behind him.

He does so without question, still attached to you by your pinkie, making himself comfortable on the edge of a neatly tucked bed. He follows your every action as you place the ointment jar beside his thigh and open the lid. You scoop a teaspoon amount with your fingers and lifted his burnt hand again.

Before the cream touches his burn, you begin to tell him about what illness you've caught today and he barely feels the sting of the medicine. There's no better spell or potion to kill pain than your voice, that much was evident even back when he first met you.

Concentration laces your features and unbeknownst to you, your hips hit the edge of the mattress, unaware to the fact that Neville's knees are on either side of you.

The sight of you between him for some reason makes it difficult for him to swallow. The urge to trap you with his legs increases by the second. "Hey, Y/N?"

You wipe off excess ointment on your pajama top and turn your attention to him. He rarely called you by your first name. Something's up.

"Yeah?"

"Well, the erm... You know in a week or so?"

"Mhm?"

There's a pause as he searches your eyes for confidence, then he finally announces. "Would you say you're a good dancer?"

Creases form between your brows and you pout at the question, really thinking it over. If there was anything else Neville had learnt about you was that you always answered his queries with great interest and thought. You never treat his questions as though they're dumb, and he’s come to adore you for that.

As you ponder, he slides his non-burnt hand under yours, idly fiddling with your delicate fingers; tracing around the length of them, lifting them up and dropping them one by one, and eventually laying his palm flat on top of yours. Were his hands always this big?

The tips of your fingers tap-tap against his, as you finally answer. "I suppose... I would like to think I am."

"Well... that's good to hear."

"What about you?"

"Oh me?" He finds your face and swallows thickly. "I've been practicing lately, so I can only hope I've improved."

A giggle breaks free from your lips and it’s music to his ears. "Practicing? Whatever for?"

"The Yule Ball, of course."

"The..." The creases near your brows form again. "I've completely forgotten about that."

He squeezes a finger of yours. "So, no one's asked you yet?"

You sneeze into your elbow and then for a second time, and your voice becomes stuffy to the amusement of Neville. "Asked me what?"

"Asked you to be their date, of course."

"Oh. No." Scoffing. "Being stuck in here means no social-life. And besides—" You spin around quick to grab a roll of bandage, and gingerly flatten it over his burn "—who's gonna want to dance with someone who sneezes every five minutes?"

"I would."

"That's what I thought — wait... you would?"

In an effort to look nonchalant, Neville shrugs, finding interest in a bird that's flying near the window. The tips of his ears poking out of his shaggy hair are giving you a different response, they're blushing.

You finish with his wound and step away from the bed, fingers feeling cold when you let go of him.

Upon inspection of your medical handiwork, he smiles gently. He hadn't felt a thing. "Thanks for this."

"I... I can't guarantee that I'll be completely healthy that day," you say.

"The Yule Ball?"

You nod in an almost embarrassed way, as you fiddle with the collar of your sleeping clothes.

Neville just shakes his head. "The suit my Gran got for me has a lot of pockets so I’ll carry all your tissues for you. Or anything else you might need, I'll keep them for you."

"That'sssss.... ACHHU!"

"Bless you. So what do you say? Would you... want to go with me? Maybe? I promise not to step on your feet."

"Miss L/N?! What on earth are you doing out of bed?!"

"MADAME POMFREY!" You both exclaim, faces and necks feeling hot.

"Come on, dear, why don't you ever follow simple orders?!"

Mumbles of pathetic protest fall from your lips as the woman drags you back to the other side of the room. You knock into Neville’s knee on the way and so he’s quick to follow behind you with his own incoherent babble about the burn on his hand.

You're settled under the blankets once again and watch as the nurse's eyes bulge at the sight of the tall boy's perfectly cared for palm. She inspects the bandage, inquires about the pain and what the cause was, all while Neville can't keep the flushed look off his face.

"She— well... Y/N helped me out. It doesn't hurt anymore, I'm fine now, Ma'am."

As the said woman keeps a hold of his hand, she turns to you with daggers. "What did you use? A potion? Spell, perhaps? Mr Longbottom could have severe side-effects if you're not careful."

"He won't," you grin toothily as you did back in your first year and point to the shelf in the right corner. "I used the ointment that you gave Theodore Nott not that long ago. Haha, Nott not."

Neville stifles a laugh, and isn't surprised when the nurse doesn't question you further. You might be the only student that can get away with arguing with Madame Pomfrey.

The nurse's face instead takes the form of an appreciative and impressed expression. It's only natural that with your ‘weak immune system’, you've gained as much medical knowledge as you have colds and flus.

"I'll admit, you've done a splendid job with Neville. However, you simply cannot use whatever you like, whenever you like, on whomever you like. Next time this happens you need to wait for me to return, alright? Is that understood?"

Taking a glance at Neville's sheepish state, you sigh and nod in response.

"And Neville dear, don't encourage this behaviour. Especially not from Miss L/N."

"Okay, Ma'am."

She gives the boy a goodbye and immediately turns to you, a full on lecture spilling from her mouth. He isn’t supposed to leave yet, not when he’s just finally had the courage to ask you out.

Neville finds your helpless gaze behind the woman’s shoulder, and sends you a sad sort of smile before turning on his heel to get to the door.

"I-I'll go with you!" You yell.

The tall boy pauses, heart flipping at your words.

"To the Yule Ball."

There’s no stopping the grin that forms, and he finally nods after a second, hair shaking with the action.

Your eyes speak to him as your own smile appears.

Meanwhile, the woman huffs and puffs, cleaning the area around your bed. "Not in this state, you won't."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville's 5th Year

The last time Neville was in the hospital wing, he'd come to talk to you about his recent endeavours in Herbology and let slip that he's been secretly practicing defensive magic with a group of other students, being taught by none other than Harry himself. There was no doubt that you would also be trusted enough to join, however seeing as you were once again bed-ridden, it felt best to keep it a secret until you got better.

Now it wasn't a secret anymore, and each time he'd visit you'd ask him to put in a good word with Harry, with the group. Neville always said he would, but he never did, fearing that Professor Umbitch would eventually catch onto you and you'd have to pay the ultimate price.

Karma is an Umbitch, however, and now it looks as if the only answer to Neville's current predicament is to let you join Dumbledore's Army, despite all his worries and his efforts to stop you from doing that.

Today’s DA training has been cut short, due to the fact that the fifteen-year old is now incapacitated. Blood refusing to slow down from his nose.

Going to Madame Pomfrey would've required him to come up with a believable story as to what happened, so the next best thing was to send for you, someone who already knows about this secret group.

"Neville!" A Ravenclaw boy shouts, interrupting his thoughts. "Your Bogey Bug is here— ow!"

Someone smacks the kid, and then suddenly the Weasley twins are leading you into the Room of Requirement. You stand over him, adorning new pajamas he hadn't seen before.

"Hey Achoo," he weakly smiles. "Thanks for coming."

The DA gather around, as you crouch to his side and immediately take the cloth he's been holding to his nose. You make a face at him. “Oh Neville… what are we going to do with you?”

A fresh line of blood rolls down to his lip, so you let him leave the fabric there to sink it in.

"Keep your head steady, okay? Don't lean back, just let the blood flow for now."

"I think my nose might be broken?"

"Neville, I swear to..." your head spins sharply, and a few students flinch. "Who did this?"

"We were practicing stupefy," the familiar voice of Seamus answers and immediately your tense shoulders relax seeing his face emerge behind the twins. "I didn't mean to. I swear, Y/N."

"He really didn't mean to," Neville echoes.

You sneeze into your elbow and shake your head, palm making contact with your cheek. "See, this is why you should’ve told me about this secret army group thing so I could've joined and stopped something like this from happening.”

"I'm sorry."

You take Neville's hand again and lift the cloth, checking over the damage. There is damage, alright. You try not to make a show of wincing, fearing that the brown-haired boy would get anxious by your reaction, but his nose really does look quite out of sorts. Out of line. Broken.

He realises you haven't said a word in a while and smiles again, "you can fix, can't you, Achoo?"

"I told Neville I could treat him, but he kept refusing and insisted for your presence," Luna's soft voice interrupts as she crouches down beside you.

Someone amongst the crowd starts to coo and the tips of Neville's ears manage to turn beet red, more so when you turn your attention to him, expression unreadable.

Luna carries on, eyes focused on you. "He wouldn't let anyone touch him. Not until now, anyway."

"Okay!" A sudden clap startles even Luna, and you all turn to the perpetrator. Harry Potter's back is turned to your direction as he addresses the crowd, "I think we'll call it a day. Neville needs his strength and so do you."

The crowd murmurs, exchanging pouts and disappointed shrugs.

"Be proud of yourselves, you all did brilliantly today. Each and every one of you have improved. Next time we get to meet we'll continue with the Patronus Charm."

"What about Bogey Bug? How do we know she's not gonna rat us out?" A girl in Hufflepuff asks.

Neville sees you stand up, slapping a hand over your chest. "I swear on my life and the life of Neville—."

"Hey!"

"—that I will not snitch on this group or expose any of you. I promise to be loyal and keep my mouth shut about this."

Some faces don't seem convinced, as more murmurs and chatter erupt.

"She can be our nurse!" Neville exclaims, stealing everyone's attention. It's time to put in that good word for you. "We won't have to go to the hospital wing if Achoo— I mean, Y/N is here. She's really good at what she does. Plus, I accidentally told her about the army about a month ago and she hasn't told a soul since. I do..."

Your big eyes soften when he turns to you.

"...I trust her with my life."

"All right then," Harry claps once more. "All those in favour of Y/N becoming part of the army, raise your hand."

A few hands come up, whilst others whisper for a moment. One more, then four more, and then more hands raise faster than you can count them. You and the broken-nosed boy share grins, as you squeeze his free hand.

"That's it then. Y/N, welcome to Dumbledore's Army."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 6th year

Following the events of the previous year of school you and Neville had grown ever closer. Outside of the classroom you'd never be seen without the other. Inseparable. There'd even been a rumour going around that you were dating, but you always denied such claims and Neville could only comply. He hadn't yet told anyone about his feelings for you, although it seemed that those in his close circle were figuring it out on their own.

After having looked like a lost pygmy puff in the Great Hall, Luna found Neville and mentioned to him that you looked 'out of sorts' during class. He hadn't even asked about you. She just knew to tell him.

So, it’s only fitting for him to be by your side now, during lunch hour.

You’re shivering underneath all the sheets and blankets, and yet as Neville glides the back of his fingers across your forehead, you’re sweating as well.

“Hang in there Achoo, you’ll be fine in no time. The spell will take effect.”

You can only give so much as a nod, and groan when your lower abdomen tightens with a deep, stabbing ache.

“Shh,” Neville smooths his delicate fingers over your forehead again, tucking loose strands back to their place with the rest of your hair. “I'm here. Do you want me to distract you with anything?"

"Anything," you squeak, eyes shut tightly as if doing that would stop your cramps and make you fall asleep faster. "Please."

"Alright, erm..." He slides his tongue over his bottom lip and leans in closer to you, elbow pressing into the mattress. "I suppose I can tell you about a dream I had not long ago. You were in it."

"The Hippogriff one?" You tremble.

"No, this is a new one," he smiles when you meet his gaze, finding your fingers peeking through the sheets and taking them into his hands. "It's really stupid, as dreams usually go, but I really like it."

Your fingers are stretched out, as Neville begins to trace over your palm. First he draws a circle and you giggle a little at the feeling.

"This is me," he draws a triangle, "and this is you. It seems like any ordinary day, except you and I have the same classes. In the dream we're both popular. Everyone cheers for us when we get good marks, and even Professor Snape smiles at you."

"No way."

He laughs and traces a shape with lots of spikes. "Yes way. It really seems too good to be true, because there's even a moment where we successfully sneak out at night, we're just in our pajamas and we're watching the stars from the astronomy tower."

"I'm waiting for the 'but'."

"But — here comes the stupid part — you just start flying out of nowhere. One second you're next to me, the next you're just in the sky. I'm freaking out trying to reach for your hand, but you're just so calm about the fact that you mysteriously gained the ability to fly."

You're giggling again, especially as he slaps your palm a few times to emphasise the story. "Accurate reaction."

"And then it just ends with me being able to breath fire."

"What?" You laugh, brows pulling together in amusement. "I wonder what Professor Trelawney would say about that. What all of it might represent."

He draws a line on each of your fingers, slow and tickly. "If it's anything like I've been told before, it probably means bad luck."

"Well I was also in the dream with you, so we'll go through the bad luck together." To his surprise, you thread your fingers through his and squeeze. You're not trembling anymore, you haven't been for the past minute or so, and it doesn't feel like you're being stabbed over and over in the stomach.

"Think you can sleep now?" He asks, fingers hesitantly unravelling.

You nod, grinning at him, those eyes of yours finally shining as bright as they usually do.

"Want me to go get Madame Pomfrey?"

You shake your head. And then your arms are around his neck, head tucked in the space between your bicep and his jawline.

It feels like a millennium till he returns your gesture, arms securing around your waist and back, pulling you in tightly and desperately. The mix of the wing's clinical scent and the smell of baked desserts fills his nose. He could've sworn he'd smelt something like this during Potions class.

"Stay with me," you purr. "Please."

He knows he has class in ten minutes, he knows he can't skip, he knows he'll get in trouble.

So with your arms determined to remain wrapped around each other he bends over, moving till your head meets the pillow. He kicks off one of his school shoes. Then the other.

You feel his knees dip into the mattress beside your thighs, and then you have to part for a moment as he slips under the blankets, his head settling on the pillow right beside yours.

When he's comfortable, you take one of his hands and lower it until he brushes over your clothed belly.

Keeping the heat from entering his ears and cheeks is impossible, as his hand flattens over your stomach, shock evident in his features from your bold action.

"Could you keep it there?" You say, when you feel his uncertainty. "It'll help if the cramps come back." Your own hands smooth over his, trapping him there.

"I will." He swallows thickly. "Are you comfortable?"

You nod. "Are you?"

"Absolutely. Yes. I am."

A content breath passes your lips and you smile, all giddy like, at the ceiling. "Thank you for being here. For being with me always. For not making fun of me being sick all the time. Not calling me Bogey Bug. For... for just being you. For being my most favourite person ever."

"I could really say the same about you." Both your voices are barely above a whisper, seeing as your faces are so close together.

"Thanks Neville," you turn to him, and tap the back of his hand on your belly.

You stare at each other for a moment, and for some reason it doesn't feel wrong. It's not awkward.

Neville breaks the silence. "You... you know how everyone keeps saying that we're... you know going out?"

"Yeah."

Neville pauses for a second, you're staring so intensely, pupils large and beautiful. He tries to swallow past the lump in his throat and squeezes the material of your clothes. He can talk to you, he can ask you the question. He's battled against Bellatrix Lestrange before, he's been put in Gryffindor for a reason. He can ask you. "What do you say we make those rumours... not rumours anymore?"

The corners of your mouth twitch. "You-You mean... you mean like...?"

"Yes. Like that. Like... I want to spend the rest of my life with you, sort of way."

You don't say anything.

He continues, with a small bite of his lip. "Like... I'm completely mad for you and if I don't tell you now I don't think I'll ever get the chance to again."

"This... isn't a dream, is it?"

"Can I prove to you this isn't a dream?"

"Okay."

And it really feels like a dream, as his face leans in and you feels his lips press against the corner of your mouth.

"Did that help?" he whispers.

You twist around to lay on your side, guiding Neville's big hand up to your waist. "You missed, Neville."

"What?"

"You missed."

This time you both lean in, and this time Neville doesn't miss.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 7th year

The last Horcrux has been destroyed, Voldemort's killed, the Death Eaters have fled. New life has been brought to Hogwarts, sun pooling through the shattered windows of the Great Hall.

People sit on broken stools, torn and ashy blankets, chatter quiet and solemn. A few people manage to tell jokes and liven the mood, others cuddle, kiss, crying tears of relief. Nurses scamper around tending to the badly wounded.

Only...

As Neville limps his way through the hall he desperately scans over the crowds only to realise you're not here. You're not by Madame Pomfrey. You're not by Luna either. Neville finds Ginny's tired but hopeful figure and before he can tap her shoulder, she's already turned to him with a gentle smile.

She shakes her head before he even has a chance to speak. "I haven't seen Y/N. Not since... well not since she took care of Freddie. 'M sorry Neville."

"No," he shakes his head and gives the girl a gentle hug when her voice wavers and her bottom lip quivers. "No, I'm sorry."

"You helped kill Voldemort. That's hardly anything to be sorry for," she smiles again as they part, softly pushing at his shoulder to leave. To keep searching for you. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for her."

Neville sends her a purposeful nod and turns to leave, the sword of Gryffindor still snug in his hand. At times he uses the weapon as a crutch, the pain in his everything starting to take a toll as previous rushes of adrenaline begin to fade. The only thing keeping him going is the thought of you. You and your sneezes, your messy hair, your often nasally voice, your big eyes and equally big grins. You.

He passes what looks to be remnant of the hospital wing's door, merely a pile of wood chips and metal beams now. He hears the distant tweet of a bird, the pitter-patter of loose rubble and someone's sneeze.

The sword clangs to the ground and he's sprinting. Neville rounds the corner of the entrance to the wing and he stops, breath heavy, vision blurry.

You're there, and you're already staring at him, your grin so large and your eyes even more so and you're holding onto something familiar.

"N-Neville?" your voice is soft and so stuffy and gorgeous.

"Achoo, good Godric." His sore legs carry him to your side, and you're running toward him, arms open. And then you jump and he completely forgets about how much pain he's in when he catches you.

You cling to his sweater, to his shoulders, to his neck, to his waist, squeezing him with every bit of strength you've got left.

He's grasping at your hoody, your waist, your hair, your skin, he's touching all of you, scared that if he'll let go you won't be there anymore.

"I love you so much," he says through a trembling voice.

You pull away slightly and return your feet to the ground, legs unwrapping from his hips. You crane your neck to kiss his jaw, and then you kiss his cheek and his other and then finally his lips. And it sets your heart on fire, full of adoration and care and relief. You don't ever want to stop feeling him here, his supple lips against yours, especially as his hands cup your jaw, reeling you in for more and more.

"I love you Neville," you cry when you finally have to pull away to catch your breaths. "Ever since I first met you. You and your twisted ankle."

He chuckles, tenderly wiping a tear from the apple of your cheek with his thumb. He scans over the room for a moment, as he feels your fingers come to dance over the dry trail of blood from his head wound.

"I don't think we're ever gonna leave this place," he says with a caress of your jaw.

Following his gaze, you giggle. Those beds you spent countless nights on, those countless concoctions and medical supplies you've had used on you, they're all here, scattered and battered around the room.

"That's why I came here instead of the Hall," you say, keeping one arm around your boyfriend's waist and unravelling the other to reveal an intact jar of creamy coloured ointment. "I'm so sorry, I must've scared you nuts."

"Scared me to death more like, but all I had to do was listen out for your sneezes. Turns out it isn't that hard to find you."

You poke your tongue out and he laughs. "That's so embarrassing. Always comes back to me being a Bogey Bug."

"Yeah," he smoothly pulls you in for an ardent kiss, "my Bogey Bug."

"You know what else I am?"

You're leaning against his arms that are wrapped around you and he watches as you take off the lid of the jar. Just like his fourth year, you use your fingers to scoop up a teaspoon of the cream.

"What? What else are you?"

You step out and take one of his hands, letting his palm sit over the top of yours. And then the cream is applied over the burns on the back of his hands. In spite of these burns looking way worse than his wound from Potions class back in his fourth year, the pain is still barely felt once the ointment's smoothed over. What's also killing the sting is looking at your breathtaking eyes. He's lost in them, distracted completely.

"I'm also your nurse," you finally say, wiping the excess over your hoody.

Neville's mouth curls into a smirk, snaking his arms around you again and pressing your bodies tightly together. "Well, nurse. My lips are feeling kind of sore, do you think you can fix them?"

You hum, eyes twinkling with mischief as your hands link behind his neck.

His gaze dips to your mouth, trying to fight the heat flowing to his cheeks and ears. There will never be a time when you won't make him nervous and giddy.

You mirror his action, eyes taking their time stare at his lips. "You know what, darling? I think I've got just the thing for you."

#neville x reader #neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom smut #neville longbottom x reader smut #neville longbottom x y/n

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gunthermunch · 9 months ago

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[Transcript under the cut]

WG: breathe, this is normal you big baby Lucas: right. right. normal. FAMILY. WG: i used the front door? Lucas: okay… WG: we all hide the keys on the same spot, blame mom. WG: you know, never check under the rug first that's the toy one, always dig a hole next to the weird rock, that's were the real key is? Lucas: yes, i know WG: see? all legal Lucas:-doni't worry, I love seeing you! i just- thought you were at Gunther's…? WG: that's old done story man, i'm on my way yo San My now. WG: thought of seeing our little booger boy while on the road today- by the way what happened to you? you're like, massive Lucas: oh i. WG: it's whatever congratulations. oh right. your phone Lucas: thanks! it's warm WG: it was under my butt Lucas: … WG: …you're expecting someone's something? Lucas: what? no WG: are you sure? look at me in the eyes Lucas Munch Lucas: knock it off.. it's… nothing. WG: fine, sure! Lucas: …stop looking at me. WG. wanna get me off your back? feed me

WG: so what do you do for fun round here? Lucas: hmm… i'd say i have the most fun with Clarita wg: who's that? new friend? Lucas: ah! she's the cow, dummy WG: really, Lucas? Lucas: what? WG: really, Lucas? Lucas: hey this is fun to me! i'm fine this way! WG: are you… saying this is all you do? Lucas: no? i also go to the market every day. mostly to grab new flowers and sell stuff. WG: well good luck with that WG: anyways, do you have any spare bucks laying around? Lucas: i knew it! WG: then why didnt you just put your money down earlier, huh? Lucas: Lucas: my coat, left pocket WG: you're the best. WG: and i swear i'll give it back by your birthday Lucas: uh huh WG: the hell. don't play smart with me WG ruffles Lucas' hair aggressively Lucas: owowowow OKAY!!!- WG: well, see you later Lukey WG: -also, say hi to Max for me Lucas: yeah sure, no biggie

Chat Max: and i thought i was messed up yknow Lucas: ahahh dont be mean to her!! or about her! Max: anyways. i need to rest ttyl Lucas: sleep well!!!!!!!!!!

sent two weeks ago

#well!#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 story #munch #wolfgang munch #lucas munch #max villareal #strawberry the dog

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leclerc-s · 8 months ago

Text

wait, there's another one of you?

series masterlist

isabellaperez posted new stories

this booger picked me up from the airport and then decided to mock me for buying food at the airport. little outfit change because it's not hoodie season in mexico. i ditched the booger and picked up my comfort food. no i will not be sharing, they're all mine.

lando norris someone want to explain to me who the guy in isabella's story is?

isabella perez my fucking brother? gael? dulce perez it's our brother.

charles leclerc wait, there's another one of you??

max verstappen how do you people not know this?

mae jones i didn't know...

daphne jones i did know, nice kid. i don't know how he's related to isabella.

sebastian vettel he used to come to races all the time, and then their dad died and he stopped coming.

dulce perez we all bonded with dad over f1. it was harder for gael because he was karting when dad passed. he gave up on the sport after that.

isabella perez haven't you heard, he's a big shot actor now. HE WORKED WITH THE SEBASTIAN STAN!!

penelope trevino your taste in men needs to be studied. under a microscope. isabella perez i don't really have a crush on sebastian stan. i have a crush on bucky barnes. it's very different. penelope trevino oh yeah, that makes so much sense.

max verstappen the worst thing is that he's a ferrari fan too 🙄

isabella perez HELL YEAH! FORZA FERRARI BABY!

charles leclerc LET'S GO!!

lewis hamilton i will never understand how checo's own blood aren't red bull fans.

dulce perez he was a ferrari academy driver with jules. it's practically in our blood to be tifosi. i just like to support my uncle, the other two are heathens.

isabella perez WE CAN SUPPORT UNCLE CHECO AND SUPPORT FERRARI AT THE SAME TIME DULCE!

esteban ocon we have to meet this guy!

lance stroll when can we meet him? carlos sainz are we allowed to meet him? dulce perez never. my brother will not be tainted by you nerds.

rowan todd listen, i understand the boys, but seeing as we work together with marvel. good luck keeping me away from him.

rowan todd wait-

rowan todd in the sense that, we're going to become besties. work besties if you will.

lance stroll pierre just let out a sigh of relief.

pierre gasly do you know how to shut the fuck up? if so, please do so. lance stroll why would i when you're so easy to tease?

max verstappen you have to bring him to a race soon. it's only fair! i will turn him into a red bull fan.

isabella perez listen, uncle checo driving for red bull is temporary, however long that may last, but ferrari is forever. you just have to deal with this max, uncle checo does.

carlos sainz max is just surrounded by tifosi isn't he?

max verstappen oh shut up carlos.

carlos sainz is the little one still a huge charles fan?

daniel ricciardo he called my move to mclaren the worst mistake of my life. daniel ricciardo he's also a little shit. but we love him max verstappen NO! YOU LOVE HIM! i tolerate him at best.

fernando alonso when you say patito, you don't mean pato o'ward, do you?

isabella perez i do! they were best friends growing up!

dulce perez wow, you are dumb.

isabella perez WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN??

dulce perez ask gael. maybe he'll answer the question.

lando norris someone could be in love with her and she would never notice.

daniel ricciardo i can't wait for the day i get to witness that

daphne jones don't be mean. she's not dumb, just oblivious.

pierre gasly this is like that time that guy asked for her number and she gave him dulce's number.

arthur leclerc WHAT THE FUCK? WHEN WAS THIS?

max verstappen arthur right now, probably

charles leclerc can confirm that is what arthur sounded like.

max verstappen at least someone appreciates my comedic genius. natalia ruiz he's in love with you charles leclerc literally shut up?

isabella perez WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT? HE ASKED FOR DULCE'S NUMBER?

rowan todd HE ASKED FOR YOURS! HE CALLED YOU PRETTY GIRL AND EVERYTHING?

isabella perez WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DID I MISS THAT?!

daphne jones like i said, you're oblivious.

freya vettel at least put us all out of our misery and ask out cute prema guy

isabella perez i can't.

esteban ocon the fuck do you mean you can't?

lance stroll wait. don't fucking say it isabella

isabella perez i got back together with austin

daniel ricciardo WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ISABELLA?

fernando alonso OTRA VEZ? ISABELLA, NO PUEDES SEGUIR HACIENDO ESTO! (again? isabella, you can't keep doing this!)

isabella perez but he said things would be different this time!

dulce perez THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING SAID LAST TIME YOU MORON!

gael perez dime que no es verdad isabella! (tell me it's not true isabella!)

isabella perez that depends, what are we talking about?

dulce perez cut the bullshit. why would you do this?

isabella perez HEY YOU KNOW WHY! I LOVE HIM!

gael perez i'm gonna die and my sister's still going to be dating that lunatic.

dulce perez at this rate i'm going to get back with arthur and she's still going to be with him.

isabella perez let's talk about dulce's problems instead!

gael perez old news, we all know she's still in love arthur but in denial about it.

isabella perez by the way, was patito ever anything more than your friend?

gael perez i have to go.

isabella perez CLEARLY I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH PROBLEMS HERE!

isabella perez dulce is a snitch who's still in love with her ex and my brother dated his best friend.

dulce perez HEY FUCK YOU! WHAT HAPPENS IN THE SIBLING GROUP CHAT STAYS THERE!

max verstappen no, tell us more. as the children say, spill the tea sis.

mae jones i forget you have a broken childhood.

charles leclerc tell us something we don't already know.

dulce perez literally fuck you guys. i don't have to sit here and take this.

dulce perez i have class now.

pierre gasly coward.

dulce perez PIERRE'S IN LOVE WITH ROWAN BUT IS AFRAID TO ADMIT IT! MAX IS ALSO IN LOVE WITH MAE! AND CHARLES IS LOVE WITH NATALIA AND WE ALL KNOW THEY'RE SLEEPING TOGETHER!

dulce perez call me a coward again gasly. i know all your secrets.

lance stroll she's sort of scary sometimes.

daniel ricciardo she's a middle child. of course she knows everything.

daphne jones i love her.

max verstappen i'm kinda scared of her now. what else does she know?

dulce perez i know everything verstappen. all of you confide in me because i'm the only 'normal' one here.

dulce perez AND I KNEW ABOUT DANIEL'S PROPOSAL BEFORE ANYONE ELSE SO SUCK IT FUCKERS! (except for seb, lewis, and nando. i love you guys.)

mae jones RICCIARDO! YOU TOLD ME I WAS THE FIRST TO KNOW!

daniel ricciardo would you look at the time. i have to go walk my kangaroo.

fernando alonso coward!

daniel ricciardo no shame about it!

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¡leclerc-s speaks! if i hadn’t mentioned this character before that’s because he was literally made up like last week. i also just love danny ramirez and i had to include him somehow. this entire series is just me putting together all my interests in one. also my love for pato, i love him so much. i have too many stories and don't have time to update them all so i just create more to ignore the bigger issue.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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