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v1olentdelights · 10 months

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Everything has changed.

Do you name headcanons? Anyway, I am also going to be naming this one because I want to :) --requested--

Neville would never have imagined he would meet someone else who is like him. You were someone who appreciated the small things in life.

It started as a friendship, really. In your first year, you had been assigned as his table partner in charms class, the one he struggled in the most.

You excelled in it (he would find out later that you were actually quite average, but studied in the library so you could help him more). And things only grew from there.

When the second year rolled around, he was excited to see you again! You had kept in contact over the summer, constantly talking about mundane things. But he looked forward to every letter, as did you.

He was worried for you when the issue of the chamber of secrets circulated through the student population.

You both would spend some extra time together. Studying or lounging in the quart yard.

----

In his 3rd year, he struggled a lot. Things with his parents had taken a toll on him. He was beginning to realize that they wouldn’t be returning to a normal state.

He had asked you to meet him in the astronomy tower one night. It wasn’t something he had ever done before. Of course you had spent evenings together, he would sit next to you at dinner. And he would walk you to your common room, bidding you goodnight.

----

When you found him up there, his feet were dangling off the edge. It was then that you knew something was really wrong. Neville didn’t like standing on the edge of the balcony to use the telescope, and now he was hanging his feet off the edge?

“Nev, are you okay?” Your voice was soft and caring. It made him want to cry even more. When he looked back at you, he saw the concern written all over your face.

“I-“ his voice gave out, quickly wiping his tears and clear his throat he tried again. “I need to talk to you about something, please.”

“Of course! What can I do?” Making your way over to him, you grabbed his hand and pulled it in your lap.

“My parents. They have been in St. Mungo’s for the past 11 years. And they haven’t gotten any better.” He began to tremble at the thought of his parents.

“I don’t know what to say, Nev. I’m sorry, it is not enough, but that’s all I can think to say. I’m. here for you.” Gripping his hand a bit tighter, you pulled him into you. His head rested on your shoulder as he began to sob.

“I don’t know what to do without them. I thought they would get better. I thought I’d have parents again.” It was hard to catch most of what he was saying through his cries and hoarse voice.

“They will always be your parents. You have to know that. And they will always be there for you.” It was something you couldn’t stress enough.

It was then that Neville understood you were no ordinary friend. You were something special.

----

By the 4th year, things began to change. You wouldn’t meet his eyes as much anymore, He got panicky at the thought of being alone with you.

There had even been a few times where you caught yourself writing your first name next to his last. But you quickly throw the journal into the bottom drawer of the desk in your room.

Despite the anxious feeling you had at the thought of being around Neville, you often spent time with him by the lake. He had been trying to find some kind of water plant…

You were sure he had told you about it at some point, but you weren’t focused on the words he was saying.

At some point, Harry Potter decided to join you both. He said he wasn’t speaking to Hermione and wasn’t on good terms with Ron.

Of course, both you and Neville invited him to join you. But it actually made Neville feel something. A sick but upset feeling in his stomach.

You began to talk to Harry about quidditch and the tournament trials. You found yourself actually enjoying the conversation simply because the great and mighty chosen one was really just a simple 15 year old who had a somewhat normal life.

But that meant you weren’t talking to Neville about the book you were reading. And you weren’t telling him about how you wanted to travel the world, alongside Neville, before settling down.

Neville would never admit to it, but in this moment, he was jealous of Harry Potter. Not because he was the focus of everyone, not because he was the hero, and especially not because he had defeated Voldemort, (well half of him?) at the age of 11. No, he was jealous of Harry Potter because he had your attention.

Soon, dance lessons began. Most people thought it was hilarious and made a joke of it. But not you, in fact you enjoyed it. Thankfully, you were partnered up with a girl friend, there was no awkwardness of a boy. Yet.

Neville had practiced and practiced. He even devoted extra time he would have spent helping some of the first years with homework to practicing a waltz he knew you were particularly fond of.

----

However, something happened. Well, he only witnessed the first half of it, but he could feel that sickening feeling of jealousy burn again…

Harry Potter had sent a paper butterfly fluttering towards you. Inside was the question Nev had dreaded.

Would you do me the great honor of going to the Yule Ball with me? Meet me out in the viaduct courtyard after class.

You blushed at the thought that someone had asked you to the ball. But your thoughts were interrupted by Neville quickly excusing himself and rushing out of the hall.

Thankfully, the study period and the school day ended soon after. You found Harry waiting for you by the stairs.

“So, what do you think?” He was smiling brightly and holding a hand out for you as you took a rather large step down onto the bridge to the courtyard.

“Harry, I am honored that you asked me, trust me. Getting asked to the ball is something I never thought would happen.” As you turned to him you could see a small smile.

“But…” With a light chuckle, you nudged him in the shoulder.

“But I am actually hoping someone else will ask me. Don’t take it the wrong way, I just… I really like this boy, and I think he likes me as well, and I really really want to go with him.” Your face felt warm again at the thought of going to the ball with Neville.

“Well why don’t you ask this mysterious person?” He nudged you back. “Actually part of the reason I asked you is to possibly push either of you to ask the other out. Come on. It is obvious that you love each other.” Your jaw dropped.

“You asked me, knowing I would say no? Did you just use my rejection against me?!” You found it hilarious, but also there was a small, very small part of you that was hurt that he would do such a thing.

“Yes, I mean if you had accepted it, I would totally have taken you to the ball. But I knew you would say no.” Both of you stopped outside the entrance to the central hall. He now looked at you straight on with a serious-ish face. “Now go get your lover boy.”

Later that evening, you found him sitting in the herbology wing. He sat by the pond watching the fish swim around. They had no problems, no worries about asking someone to the ball, and Neville envied that.

“Neville?” You had finally found him. You had also cursed the founders for making the school so big that you scoured the entire school for him. “Nev, can we talk?”

He simply gestured for you to sit next to him on the bench.

“Did you leave because of Harry?” The huff he let out was an answer of its own.

“Maybe. Why does it matter? Did you just come here to gossip about it?” He almost sounded mad.

“No.” It came out defensively. “Why would I do that? I came to let you know that I turned down his offer.”

“Why would you do that? He is the perfect stand-up boy.” Why was he acting like this? Your sweet Neville.

“Because I want you to ask me. I’ve been waiting, I thought you felt the same way. I must have read the signs wrong.” You got up and began to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“You didn’t. You didn’t read the signs wrong. I just didn’t know if you wanted to go with me. I had this whole plan for this evening, and then he asked you, and I thought you would just go with him.” He slipped his hand into yours, slotting your fingers together.

----

That is what led you to this moment. All the dancing at the ball, it made you feel like royalty, like you were the most beautiful person in the room. After quite some time of jumping around and dancing, you and Neville escaped to a balcony.

He spun you once on your way out. You let out a little laugh, a sound he wished he could bottle up and listen to over and over again.

Then it all came crashing in. Everything had changed. You were more than friends, something you couldn’t quite place yet.

It could only be described as a moment from a muggle movie. He brought his hand up to your cheek, his thumb ever so gently brushing against your face. As he looked all over your face, they finally landed on your eyes.

“All I know since yesterday is everything has changed” a moment of silence before he was leaning in.

And you realized that you were completely okay with this new change.

#grace writes #neville fluff #neville longbotton x reader #harry potter #neville x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #neville blurb #neville imagine #neville longbottom thoughts #neville headcanon #neville longbottom headcanon

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vilentia · 8 months

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Love's Bloom

Neville Longbottom x reader

Summary: In the Hogwarts greenhouse, a heartfelt connection blossomed.

****

Neville stood amidst the vibrant flora of the Hogwarts greenhouse, his hands carefully tending to a delicate Mandrake leaf. He was always at peace here, surrounded by the beauty and serenity of the magical plants he loved so dearly. But today, his heart fluttered with a different kind of magic.

As he lost himself in the rhythmic dance of leaves and petals, the soft footsteps of someone approaching caught his attention. He turned, his eyes meeting yours, and a warm smile blossomed across his face. There you were, the person who made his heart race faster than a Golden Snitch.

"Hey, Neville," you greeted him, your voice as sweet as a melody. The gentle hum of the Hogwarts castle in the background seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

"Hello," he replied, his cheeks tinted with a soft blush that matched the vibrant hues of the flowers around you. "I didn't expect to see you here today."

You stepped closer, the delicate scent of blooming petals filling the air. "I wanted to find you," you admitted, your eyes locking onto his. "There's something I've been meaning to say."

Neville's heart skipped a beat, and he gently set aside the Mandrake leaf he'd been tending to. "What is it?" he asked, his voice laced with anticipation.

Your fingers reached out, lightly brushing against his as you closed the distance between you. "Neville, you're perfect to me," you whispered, your eyes shimmering with sincerity. "Everything about you, your kindness, your strength, your passion for magical plants—it all makes you perfect in my eyes."

Neville's heart swelled with emotion, and he took your hand in his, his touch as tender as the caress of a petal. "And you," he began, his gaze unwavering, "you're the magic in my world, the melody in my heart. You're perfect to me too."

In that moment, surrounded by the enchanting beauty of the greenhouse, you and Neville shared a love that was as timeless and enduring as the most resilient of magical plants. It was a love that, much like the song of a heart, would forever echo its sweet, perfect tune.

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the-offside-rule · 4 months

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Gary Neville (Manchester United era) - Are You Sure?

Christmas (From The Vault)

Gary sat amidst colorful wrapping paper, tape scattered around, attempting to wrap a present. His brow furrowed in concentration as he struggled with the paper, his fingers fumbling with the tape. Y/n, his girlfriend, stood at the doorway watching him, a smile on her face. "Hey, Gary. Need a hand with that?"Gary huffed, "No, I've got it. I'm an expert wrapper." He replied.

Y/n arched a brow, and went be sit down beside him, leaning on his shoulder as she watched the chaos unfold. "Sure thing, expert. But I think your present might need a little magic touch."

As Gary continued to struggle, Y/n helped him, guiding his hands. "See, you fold it like this, and then just a bit of tape here." He had grown quiet. "You okay?" She asked. "Yeah. Just was never taught how to wrap is all. Seems like a bit of hassle though. Just stick a bow on the bloody thing and be done with it." Y/n laughed at his mini rant and held his hand. "That's not as fun though." He raised his eyebrows. "How?" She grabbed the wrapping paper and began wrapping the next item. "Less time I get to be with you, isn't it?"

As time passed, and their laughter echoed through the room as Y/n patiently taught Gary the art of wrapping. The presents may not have been perfectly wrapped, but the joy and love put into each one were evident and his family liked the effort; It added a nice touch.

This became a little but of a tradition, because if we fast forward twenty years, their home filled with the festive spirit and Gary, now a bit grayer but just as grumpy, stared at the pile of gifts in confusion. "I still reckon we just stick a bow on the bike and call it a night. Say Sanat couldn't afford wrapping paper." Gary whispered as Y/n had come into the sitting room with her hands filled eith wrapping paper.

Y/n, with the usual twinkle in her eyes, sat the wrapping paper to the side and stood next to him. "Remember our first Christmas together when you claimed to be an expert wrapper?" Gary grunted. "Vaguely." She smiled. "Well-" Y/n laughed. "Looks like you need a refresher course." She nudged him. "You're hilarious, you are."

The couple joked just as they did on their very first Christmas twenty years ago, as Y/n once again guided Gary through the intricacies of gift wrapping. This time, it wasn't just for them but for their children – a new generation to share the magic of Christmas.

Amidst the wrapping paper chaos, Gary couldn't help but smile at Y/n's infectious joy. "You're lucky you have me to save Christmas every year," she teased. Gary rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his affectionate grin. "Yeah, yeah, the expert wrapper is back."

Their eldest child Jack, witnessing the scene,joined in as he wanted to be a part of the magic of bringing Santa to life. Gary simply watched. "You're just like you're mum, you." Jack rolled his eyes. "I get the looks and the skills from her, don't I?" Y/n held in a laugh and Gary looked on gobsmacked. "Throw him a bit of coal."

Jack simply scoffed and continued helping his parents wrap presents and sharing laughter. As the room filled with warmth and love, Gary couldn't help but reflect on the two decades of Christmases spent with Y/n.

In that moment, surrounded by the two that started this little family and the comforting chaos of gift wrapping, Gary realized that the imperfections were what made their Christmas truly special. And though he may never master the art of wrapping, he had something far more precious – a lifetime of shared moments and a love that continued to grow with each passing year.

The morning after, as they gathered around the tree, the twinkling lights casting a warm glow, Gary squeezed Y/n's hand, silently thanking her for always bringing the magic of Christmas into their lives. And so, in the midst of sques, giggle and love, the family celebrated another Christmas, embracing the beautifully imperfect traditions that had become their own.

#football #football imagines #football blurbs #gary neville x reader #gary neville imagine #gary neville oneshot #gary neville fanfic #gary neville

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rip-us-xoxo · 1 year

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Herbology Neville (Blurb) (REPOST)

Posted DECEMBER 29, 2020

Reposted APRIL 16, 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi Neville!” you beamed as you walked into the greenhouse late at night. You knew Neville would be here. “Hi Y/n,” Neville said, sounding shaky.

“Whatcha doing there?” you questioned and walked toward him. “Stay back, Y/n! I don’t want you getting hurt!” Neville panicked and held his arm out so that you wouldn’t get any closer.

“W-What is it?” you asked shakily, if it could hurt you then it could hurt Neville too.

“Venomous Tentacula,” he informed you and jumped backward, scaring the living hell out of you.

“Venomous Tentacula?! Get away from that thing!” you shouted and tried to grab his arm. “Stand back!” he shouted and pulled out his wand. The vile thing brought its vines out to strangle Neville, meaning that you had to do something.

“Neville!” you shouted and pushed him aside. The vines grabbed you instead and you started freaking out. “Neville! Neville!” you yelped, fear of being poisoned taking over.

“O-Oh my godric! Y/n! Hold on!” he panicked and picked up his wand (that you made him drop) off of the ground. “Diffindo!” he shouted, stunning the plant and cutting the vines.

“Are you alright?!” Nevile asked once the vines fell off of your body. “Y-Yeah, I think so. I’m alive, right?” you weren’t even trusting the very clear signs that you were alive.

“Y-Yeah, you’re alive. Let’s get out of here, I think that’s enough for you tonight. You need rest,” he said and grabbed your hand, which was still shaking.

A few minutes later, after walking in complete silence, Neville assumed he could talk now since your breathing was back to normal.

“I’m sorry about that. I knew I shouldn’t have messed around with that thing but it’s just so interesting! I mean, it’s vines! The fact that it can stun you with a single bite! It’s magnificent really,” he ranted, his smile bright.

He was just praising the thing that tried to kill you. “Yeah, magnificent,” you said sarcastically.

“Oh, right,” he said sheepishly, “it was not magnificent that it tried to kill you. But that’s what I’m here for, to protect you.”. You smiled up at him and rested your head on his shoulder, “My hero.”.

Your words made Neville smile like a bloody idiot for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

xoxo

#neville longbottom #neville longbotton x reader #neville long bottom blurb #harry potter characters x reader #harry potter fanfiction

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cutielando · 5 months

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POLL POLL POLL

we're getting there

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cannibalizedyke · 2 years

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hello again

i loved the ship so so much and was wondering if i could get a 🕊 with neville if you don’t have too many requests

in a relationship im quite touchy and not really meaning to be

my giving love language is gifts or physical touch and my receiving is physical touch or quality time

im not super good at comforting verbally or giving advice but im always there if you need to just vent or be held

i name my plants

i hope that’s enough info i can’t really think of anything else that i haven’t already said (for my ship lol)

❤️❤️

ah of course lovely!! enjoy!!!

🕊 - send me a character and as much information about yourself as you’d like and i’ll write a blurb about what i think your relationship with that character would be like!

"Hey Neville, do you wanna meet my plants?" The question was asked suddenly; you were spending a Sunday lazing outside when the thought popped into your head.

Neville blinked. "Oh, yeah, sure! I love plants!"

You giggled, sitting up. "I know. C'mon!" You held out your hand and he took it, letting you drag him inside and to your room. It was filled with plants: succulents resting on dressers, pots hanging from the ceiling, flowers only just beginning to wilt in vases.

"Wow, you, er... you have a lot of plants," said Neville awkwardly, admiring them.

You smiled. "Kinda, yeah. They're my friends!"

"I don't think I've ever felt more connected to anyone in my life," said Neville, completely serious.

You laughed. "We're plant parents!" You picked up a succulent and showed it to him. "This is Junie. I got her a month ago and she's just the sweetest little baby!! She gets along so well with her brothers and sisters." You set Junie down and showed Neville another. "Now, Arnold, on the other hand, is a real grumpypants. He does not get along with the others very well. I still love him, though!" You kissed the succulent and set it back down next to Junie.

"You name your plants," Neville commented.

"Mhm! They're living things, aren't they? Makes me feel more connected to them. Plus I just like names."

"You're adorable," he sighed.

You beamed and pecked him on the cheek. "You're adorable."

#elia's 700 follower celebration #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom x y/n #neville longbottom x gn!reader #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fluff #neville longbottom oneshot #neville longbottom blurb #neville longbottom drabble #neville longbottom fanfiction #neville longbottom fanfic #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom

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roonilwazlibimagines · 4 months

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Bio! Reader x sweet baby boy botanist Neville will all that’s in my head for the next few weeks

Thank you for your time

-🍋

But cute little dates with a microscope???? And Neville can geek out with you and you feel out with him and your house is full of plants!!!

And he explains everything about them to you and just, really big heart eyes 🥹🥹

#Neville longbottom fluff #Neville longbottom blurb #nl #nlb #nlf #🍋

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very-unsirius · 2 years

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“you have lovely eyes.”

neville’s eyes widen in that impossible way they always do, his face is red and he’s stuttering.

“oh, um, thank you. yours are brilliant, gorgeous, i mean. they’re,” he huffs a bit.

“they’re nice too!”

“thank you.”

a beat of silence passed and you’re sitting in a comfortable silence, the moon casting a silvery light over the world as you take in neville’s face.

he really is lovely to look at.

“i’m sorry,” he speaks. turning your attention to his apology, you shake your head.

“what for?”

“i always say the wrong thing. i’m not good at this.”

“you’re great at this, neville longbottom. you’re great at a lot of things.”

you reach up and grab his face gently, ghosting over his cheeks. he nuzzles his face into your palm, relishing in the warmth.

you bring his chin up to face you, and plant a sweet kiss on his lips, another on his cheek and tilting his head down, another on his forehead.

“my sweet boy.”

he looks like he might cry.

“y/n,” he whispers into your neck, it tickles. you giggle at the feeling, reaching to run your fingers through his hair.

“y/n,” he grabs your hands and loops them over his own shoulders.

“mm?” you hum.

“i love you,” he says into your ear.

“i love you too, honey.”

#blurbs—✧ ˚ · .#blurbs— neville #neville longbottom x reader

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knittedjumpersandleatherjackets · 2 years

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Growth

Neville Longbottom x f!reader

Masterlist

Warning: idiots in love, pining, miscommunication

"Alright, Nev?" You asked carefully. You didn't turn to the door to see him come in, you just knew it was him. You busied yourself with the Venomous Tentacula you were pruning, listening as he went about getting his things together to help. He was late but you didn't hold it against him.

"You didn't come to lunch," Neville accused, catching a vine that swiped at him with startling agility, the type that fled his body once he stepped outside the greenhouse.

"I had Herbology just before, figured it was a waste of time to trek all the way up just to come back down right after." You explained, snipping the end of a vine and catching a second that aimed for your face without looking up. "Knew you'd bring me something."

You weren't wrong, even if you hadn't looked up. Neville was sure to have a sandwich laid out somewhere for you once you finished up with this plant. He would refuse to work further until you had eaten.

"What would you do without me?" Neville asked with a sigh, smacking the vine he was holding when it wiggled at him threateningly.

"Starve, probably." You admitted, taking the final snip and then two massive steps back in sync with Neville as the plant swiped once more before settling, realizing it was no longer under attack. You closed the lid of the jar you had put the snippings into and labeled it.

"Most likely." Neville agreed. He popped a pair of earmuffs over your ears as you pulled your gloves off. He added a pair for himself and then headed for the mandrakes while you beelined for the sandwich he had brought, your hunger catching up with you.

You watched him as you ate and smiled slightly between bites. He was repotting the mandrakes efficiently without error. He was confident here behind the glass walls. It was the only time you ever saw him shake the stuttering and the stumbling persona he wore like a cloak.

You loved him. It was a fact you were well aware of. It was a fact that anyone who knew you was aware of. In the beginning, your friends presumed it had been hero worship for the man who had killed Nagini. You knew better.

You loved the tenderness he showed the plants, letting the young mandrakes chew on his finger protected by gloves to stop their screams as he filled the pots with more soil. You loved the way his hair had grown longer but he refused to cut it because it gave him a chance to hide.

You loved the scars on his hands and arms that boasted of his bravery in some of the darkest days. You loved him from the very first moment he stood at the front of your Dark Arts class, volunteering himself for the first years.

The only person who didn't know how you felt was Neville. You knew better than to tell him and chose to be his friend instead. He had been crazy about Luna and now he spent every second with her outside of the greenhouse.

Luna refused to come in because it upset her Wrackspurt balance and she had grown quite fond of the ones she had now. You had asked her about Wrackspurts, missing Neville's look and she had gone into detail for over an hour once.

You found it kind of interesting, much to Neville's shock. He liked how nice you were to Luna, given how others ridiculed her. Your friends thought it was a ploy to get into Neville's good books.

That wasn't true. You found her genuinely interesting and a breath of positivity when so many people were still recovering from the darkness. No one had escaped the battle unscathed and so you allowed yourself to bask in joy.

Even while you were hyperaware of the Thestrals at every turn.

"Mimbletonia next or the Wolfsbane?" You asked, slipping off your earmuffs when he finished potting the last Mandrake. He came to sit on the bench while you unpacked your to-do list, given to you by Professor Sprout.

"I think it's too early for the Wolfsbane. I know Sprout wants it done but if we leave it another two days we'll get better results and so will the Potions Class." Neville told you and you nodded, crossing the word out with your quil, scrawling a reminder for yourself to do it on Friday instead. "You're not even going to ask why?"

"Don't need to. You haven't been wrong yet." You told him, scanning your list before looking up at him. He had grown over the Summer and sitting on the bench only added to his height. "I trust you."

"Some people would tell you that's a silly thing to do." He warned you and you shrugged.

"Some people are stupid." You told him and pulled on your gloves again, making your way towards the Mimbletonia. "I'm not stupid."

///

"I have an update I feel you would quite like." Rolf Scamander took a seat across from you and you looked up from the heavy text you were reading. He pushed his hair back behind his ear as he leaned closer conspiritually.

"Are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess because I have a headache and I'm really not in the mood." You told him quietly and he frowned. You watched as he visibly forgot his conversation opener as he leaned forward further, hand outstretched to check your temperature. "You feel a little warm. Have you done a check?"

"No, I'm waiting on Hannah to come to dinner. She's late." You explained and Rolf sighed. He only stood from the table, gesturing for you to follow him.

You held his arm to keep yourself steady and allowed him to lead you to the only room guaranteed to be empty. Myrtle's bathroom. She observed you both quietly as Rolf pushed the door mostly closed. "Take off your robes."

"Such a romantic, you sighed, shedding your heave robe. You followed with your blouse and held your arms out as he walked around you in a circle. He pressed his hnd to your hip and you craned your neck to look, finding the familiar puncture marks that made you wince.

"Tentacula." You sighed and he nodded, helping you button your blouse shut when your hands shook. The door pushed in and you found Luna smiling brilliantly.

"Myrtle, I'm here to oh-" She paused in place before frowning slightly, the first time you'd ever seen her smile drop. "Sorry."

She fled the bathroom and Rolf swore, looking from the door and back to you. You were beginning to sweat and he knew he couldn't leave you. He sighed and folded your robes over his arm, offering you the other one.

You would have asked what his problem was only you were fighting the urge to be violently sick. He watched as you paled and guided you to the stall rather than the exit, holding your hair back.

“Do me a favor Myrtle?” Rolf ask and Myrtle simpered at her chance to be important for a handsome boy. “Get Pomfrey for me?”

///

Two days later Neville found you in the Greenhouse, glaring at the Venomous Tentacula. He watched the stare down before you turned around and began labeling jars on the desk next to you.

He took his seat next to you and took in your disheveled appearance. You had come straight from the Hospital Wing. He’d bet every galleon he had on as much.

“So, you and Rolf, huh?” Neville asked and wished he could suck the words back in. Or maybe the ground would open and swallow him whole. Anything better than the grin you gave him when you turned your head.

“Me and Rolf?” You asked, returning to your labelling, adding them to jars one by one for the potions class. You dated the samples and scrawled your initials alongside them as you worked down the checklist you had.

“You’re uh, a thing?” He asked and you chuckled before adding the last label to your collection of jars and turned to give him your full attention. He wanted nothing less right now.

“I didn’t take Luna to be one for gossip.” You teased and began donning your gloves, prompting Neville to do the same. The Wolfsbane was waiting.

“She isn’t!” Neville insisted, quick to defend her honor. Luna had been terribly upset and she had told Neville what she had seen in confidence. He had probably just ruined that confidence by opening his big mouth. “She just mentioned it in passing, you know how she is.”

“This is the third time this year a plant has landed me in the hospital wing. Aconite in September, Bubotuber burns in December and Tentacula two days ago. My friends check me over when I take ill suddenly.” You told Neville, snipping as close to the root of the Wolfsbane as you could get.

“So Rolf was uh, checking you?” Neville asked, unsure. “By taking your blouse off?”

“Did Luna mention that in passing too?” You teased and the conversation was dropped as you both began preparing the Wolfsbane for potions ingredients.

You worked well together, getting through your list quickly and the sun was still shining when you both finished. You found yourself trailing down to the lake, enjoying the rare sunshine. Neville trailed after you as you discussed the coming week.

“Doing anything for the weekend?” You asked as you settled down on your robe, legs crossed at the ankles. You picked at dirt on your skirt, looking up when Neville didn’t answer. “Nev?”

“Sorry, uh, the weekend?” He asked distracted and you followed his eyeline to find Rolf talking to Luna the other side of the lake. Rolf was cupping Luna’s face and your smile dropped when he leaned in and kissed her.

“What the fuck?” You asked yourself as you watched. Neville grew steadily red before turning to you. It was something you could never have believed Luna to be capable of.

“Are you okay?” You and Neville spoke at the same time before giving each other questioning looks and drawing back in confusion.

“Am I okay?” You asked, laughing nervously. “I’m not the one who just watched my girlfriend kiss someone else.”

“I didn’t- Luna isn’t my- aren’t you and Rolf?” Neville stuttered over his words and then sighed. “Rolf and you are a thing, aren’t you?”

“No. Rolf has literally been in love with Luna as long as I’ve known him.” You laughed and Neville deflated. “He still shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Luna is my best friend. Nothing more.” Neville told you and you laughed, falling back in the grass and letting the laughter shake you. “What’s so funny?”

“I’ve been holding back for almost six months because I thought you were dating her.” You told him, still laughing. “Jesus, I did not know it was possible to be this stupid.”

“Golding back?” Neville asked in shock and you looked up from your spot on the ground. “You’re interested in Luna?”

“What? No, you! I’m interested in you Neville.” You laughed again. “You think I’d spend every afternoon with just anyone?”

“No but I thought- you always seem so cool! Why would you be interested in me?” He asked quietly and you stopped laughing.

“Because you’re you! You talk to the Mandrakes and sooth the Screaming Lily’s. You’re amazing, Nev.” You told him, taking his hand in yours. He chewed on his bottom lip while you sat up. “Now is when you kiss me.”

So he did as he was told.

#Neville Longbottom #neville longbottom x you #Neville Longbottom x y/n #neville x reader #neville x y/n #Neville Longbottom blurb #Neville Longbottom fic #Neville Longbottom drabble #harry potter

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thismessymasterpiece · 2 years

Text

Make You Mine

Summary - Neville Longbottom is head over heels... some may even say embarrassingly so.

Neville Longbottom x Fem!Ravenclaw!OC (?) This is a shifting story so the “OC” is myself, I do not know if that counts… (Is readable as GN!Reader from any house, however!)

Category - Fluffy as heck!

TW - One mention of Umbridge just existing because she deserves her own warning, written a long time ago (edited recently) so… possibly terrible writing

Please let me know if I missed anything!

Contains - Really corny fluff, do not say I did not warn you now :')

Word Count - 1,095

Author’s Note - Based around the song “Make You Mine” by PUBLIC so I recommend listening to it while reading, if you can :)

Also available on…

Wattpad

I just managed to sneak away from Umbridge, thanks to the twins. Honestly, I do not know what I would do without them most of the time.

Having just caught a break, I decided to go give a surprise visit to my one and only sunshine. Obviously, I knew exactly where to find him.

As I took my stroll to the greenhouses, I looked around the path, admiring the nature. Hogwarts had such an overlooked beauty. I could not believe how ignorant most people could be, I did not care what you told me, being at Hogwarts was a privilege. I could not understand why some would risk getting pitched out.

If only to remind me of things I should be grateful for, I arrived at the glass door to one of the castle greenhouses only shortly thereafter. Within, I saw my sole source of happiness, bent over a pot on the long wood table inside.

I opened the door and was about to make my presence known when I stopped myself, taking in the scene around me. When I had thought that Neville was simply working on his plants in the comfort of his own silence, I was very clearly mistaken.

Somewhat loud music was playing from no particular, identifiable source, its tone wrapping the room up in a bright and warm aura. Magic, I thought, isn't it beautiful?

The true beauty, though, was coming from the boy standing a little bit in front of me. The boy who still hadn't noticed my being here. I couldn't blame him, necessarily. The music was quite overbearing, not really in a bad way but I was rather quiet in comparison.

I recognized the tune to be from his personal herbology playlist. He was very proud of it but he never let me listen to it. Typically, he noticed when I came in or was expecting me so it was switched off at the moment of my arrival. I had never really known why that was but it was then that I started to pick up on it.

As a new song came on, Neville started humming along to himself. Or, at least he thought he was by himself.

I leaned against a sink near the door with my bag still slung over my shoulder as I watched him and a small grin tugged at my lips.

When the song picked up, he really started to get into it, singing the words and moving around a bit as he went on.

As time progressed, he started twirling and dancing around the room, his head matching his excitement as it bobbed to the music.

I really had to hold my breath so as not to laugh at his passion when he sang into his wand, or makeshift microphone in this case.

"Put your hand in mine, you know that I want to be with you all the time." He sang out. I really couldn't help thinking that he wasn't half bad. Was that just me simping? Perhaps.

My smile only grew as he continued on with, "You know that I won't stop until I make you mine. You know that I won't stop until I make you mine. Until I make you mine."

He was still spinning around and singing, "Put your hand in mine. You know that I want to be with you all the time. Oh, darlin', darlin', baby, you're so very fine." I had started to pick up on why he wouldn't let me listen to this playlist and why he only seemed to listen to it when he was alone in this very greenhouse. It had never crossed my mind that the songs reminded him of me, much less that he got so excited about the thought of me.

I was grinning and most definitely blushing profusely as the song began to wrap up.

Neville really got into it at the very end. He did a pose, still with wand in hand, his fist balled around the handle, the tip pointed towards his mouth, when the music dimmed and slowed down gradually.

"You know that I won't stop until I make you mine." Neville began to finish up, "Until I make you-" he jumped just about six feet in the air as he cut himself off. He had just turned and saw me watching him. In an instant, he had flicked his wand in the air and the room went silent.

"How... uh, how long were you there, Sunflower?" He tripped and fell all over his words.

With a sly smirk on my face, I simply stated, "Long enough."

He turned a deep crimson as he started fiddling with his wand and fingers. It was clear that he didn't want to know when he mumbled, "Meaning?"

"Meaning," I chuckled breathily, "I think you're only more adorable than before." I scratched the side of my head with my wand tip, throwing a convincing look of confusion into my eyes, "Which I didn't really think was possible."

He smiled lightly as he looked at the floor.

I took a few steps closer to the table and dropped my book bag on the surface. As I walked down the significant length of the table towards him, his feet shuffled in embarrassment.

"What? Are you embarrassed, Sunshine?"

He only blushed in response, his eyes now on my shoes which wasn't saying much considering how much shorter I was than him, he might as well just have looked at my face.

I put my dainty pointer finger under his chin and pulled it up so as to allow him a look at my eyes.

"You never told me that you spend so much time thinking about me in here."

He blushed again. I loved how I knew just the way to get him flustered.

"I like that," I added proceeding to go on my tiptoes to try and plant a kiss on the very tip of his nose. I pouted when I came over a foot short. He chuckled a bit.

When I tried again, I made sure not to fail. I grabbed his tie, which had been tucked into his matching uniform vest and slid out effortlessly as I tugged on it, which only gave me more hold on it. I dragged his face towards mine, him not resisting at all, and when he was stooped so far that I could reach while on my very top tiptoes, I landed the kiss. He laughed out loud this time.

"What? I don't give up! You know that."

"Oh, yes. I do. And you know I won't stop until I make you mine."

I chuckled at his little reference to the song he had been rocking with.

"Well, I think you've already got that."

dividers courtesy of the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune <3

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom oneshot #neville longbottom blurb #neville longbottom x ravenclaw!oc #neville longbottom x oc #neville longbottom x fem!oc #neville longbottom x female!oc #neville longbottom x original character #neville longbottom x gender neutral!reader #neville longbottom x gn!reader #shifting stories #shifting story #reality shifting

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darling-akane · 2 years

Text

The other woman - Neville Frank Longbottom (Chapter one)

"Tell me, my dear, can a heart still break once it's stopped beating?"

(Okay so this may be dumb but there are two y/ns but I did add two different characters who most people like to ship with Neville, so you can choose who to be, also inspired for the classic movie and my personal favorite, Corpse Bride )

Victoria (Hannah Abbott/Luna Lovegood/Yn Ln)

Victor (Neville Longbottom)

Emily (Y/n L/n)

You get to choose who you want to be!

•

With his eyes staring down, focusing, his hand gripping on his quill, the link coming out of the tip, leaving lines, circles, and swirls around the page, a drawing, of a butterfly landing on the leaf of a plant, finishing up the last touches, he signs the bottom of the page,

Neville Frank Longbottom,

Admiring of his work, he puts his quill down to the side, his eyes looking up a bit as he stares at the butterfly he captures, looking away for a bit, he closes his notebook, putting it away with the others, he looks back up to the butterfly, who was stuck in a glass jar, standing up from his seat, his arms out, both hands reaching for his window, to open, him facing the glass jar as he moves his hand, lifting it up, letting the butterfly fly free, the beautiful blue butterfly flied around him, making Neville turned, almost following the insect, stopping as the lovely butterfly flies away, leaving his room, making its way out to the window,

Neville took a peak outside, seeing the villagers working, greeting each other, saying 'good morning,' Neville turned his head as he hears the town crier with his bell, waving, he yells, "Here ye, here ye! Ten minutes to go till Longbottom's wedding rehearsal!" he calls out, waving his bell, Neville gulped as he heard the time he has left, "Right, marriage," he gulped again, fixing his suit, as well as his tie, he noticed that his Gran's carriage arrived in front of his home, he could hear her telling him to come down already, telling him to hurry up, he could already see his uncle down, waiting for Augusta and Neville to come down,

The front door opened as Augusta, Neville's Gran, made her way out of her home, clearing her throat, she speaks to Algie, Neville's uncle, "It's a beautiful day," She says, Algie nods in agreement, "It's a rather nice day,"

"A day of a glorious wedding!" She says proudly, Algie cleared his throat, "A rehearsal, my sister-in-law, to be perfectly clear," he reminded her, she rolls her eyes as she scoffs, "yes, of course, of course, a rehearsal for a glorious wedding," she said, fixing up her robes, Algie gets a hold of her hand, helping her get inside the carriage, "Finally, my grandson is getting married, oh how fast the day as come," She says as she takes a seat, taking a peak from the small window, trying to find her grandson, she let out a groan as there was no sight of Neville, "Where is that boy? We might be late!"

"Be patient, he's probably nervous, that's how he is," Algie replied, taking a seat next to her, she nods her head in agreement, her leg moving up and right as she waited for her grandson, being impatient, it's no lie that Neville Longbottom is a rather shy boy, prefers to be on his garden, planting and caring for his plants, or being in his room, playing with his piano, or drawing in his notebook, just him alone with his thoughts,

And there he is, getting married with a girl he never once met or talk to, turns out, she went to his school, it did blow his mind that he will be marrying a stranger,

But he had to shake those thoughts away, no matter how scary or terrifying it is, he had to step out of his room, step out of the house, take a step inside the carriage, and prepared to step inside her home, where the rehearsal with be held,

•

Her eyes looking down where her hands are laying on top of her thighs, she tries to calm her breath as the lovely sweet old maid help her with her corset, tightening it up, she let out a gasp as she could feel her breath leaving out of her mouth, "My apologizes, my dear, but you know-"

"I know my mother order to, no need to apologizes, I understand," she let out a soft smile as the sweet old lady nods her head slowly, she proceeds to do what she was told, she could hear her sigh, "Oh Hildegarde, what if Neville and I don't-" she needed to stop her sentence as Hildegarde pull the strings again, "-like each other-"

She turned her head away as she could hear in the entrance of her room a scoff, her mother standing in front of the door, with her father on the side, "As if that has to do with marriage, do you suppose your father and I like each other?" she said in a harsh tone, looking to the side in disgust as she rolls her eyes, her husband doing the same, (Hannah/Luna/Yn) cleared her throat as she spoke, "Surely, you must- a little?" Both of her parents were taken back with her sentence, they both at the same time took a look of each other, both scoffing as they replied at the same time, "Of course not!" they said in a defense tone, her mother wanted the subject to change, she speaks again, "Get those corsets laced properly. I can hear you speak without gasping," she said mainly to the old maid, Hildegarde nods her head immediately, tightening the lace even tighter,

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live-laugh-loverpool · 2 years

Text

Old Trafford

Tags: @millythegoat, @football-and-fanfics, @alissonbecksfan234

Warnings: bring out Google Translate for this one!

In her eight and a half months with Liverpool, Florrie had only seen the team look like this once. Klopp had explained to her and Kairo (Grace, Ellie, and Henrietta were all asleep) that they had just lost a very important and special trophy, but Lijnders had told her that there wasn’t a trophy involved in this one.

So why couldn’t she find anybody with a smile on their face?

“Boss?” Florrie tried to search for at least one familiar face in the hall. She had spotted Klopp, but he’d disappeared and now she was amongst many legs and hips and stomachs. All she could see for yards around was gray, black and the occasional white of a sneaker.

“Ali? Lindy? Daddy?” Florrie pouted—she couldn’t identify anybody’s faces because she couldn’t see them. She tugged on a random pants leg, hoping that the leg would belong to Henderson or Milner or even Adrian.

The face that looked down belonged to none of the above. Instead, a completely different face stared at her, eyes narrowed into slits. He had some gray hair and a puffy jacket like Klopp, but his face was far too unwrinkled, and his nose much too sharp.

“Who are you?” Even the accent was wrong, and Florrie flinched at the tone. He was loud. Too loud.

“Have you seen the boss?” Florrie asked him, hands over her ears as if his nose would pierce through them even worse than his voice.

The man didn’t flinch at all. He gripped the microphone in his hand, continuing to stare at Florrie. “Erm, yes, but I want to know what you’re doing here.”

“I’m looking for the boss.”

“Yes, but what boss?” The man laughed, and Florrie pressed her hands over her ears even harder. The laugh was wrong—too sharp, too fake, too high-pitched and airy. It was a far cry from Klopp’s deep, booming laugh, and even his quiet, polite one whenever he tried to get rid of the press. “I was manager of Valencia for a few months—at least before I started working at Sky Sports with Jamie as a pundit. So I could be called the boss.”

Florrie had no idea what Valencia even was, much less what the strange man was talking about. He wasn’t Klopp! He was too young, too loud, too different. “No! My boss!”

The man rolled his eyes and leaned closer to Florrie. The little girl could smell the overwhelming scent of breath mints, and she shrunk back in an attempt to avoid the man’s piercing gray eyes. His eyes flickered over Florrie’s shirt, but then settled back on her face. “Tell me more about your boss.”

“He’s really big!” Florrie stretched her arms as tall as she could, and the man backed off a little. “And he wears a puffy gray jacket, and a hat, and he’s always saying Bundes!”

“Wait a minute.” The man’s eyes widened, and he pulled Florrie out of the crowd. “What does he do, little girl?”

“The boss wins us big, shiny trophies!” Florrie frowned as she tried to remember how many. “He won one this month!”

Finally, the man stood up. He pocketed his microphone, and looked around before picking up Florrie. Florrie crossed her arms, thrashing about, but the man was much stronger than her.

“I know just how to find your boss,” he whispered into her ear, and Florrie jerked her head away from him. “But if we don’t hurry, he won’t find you—what’s your name?”

“Florrie! And the boss will always find me!” Florrie argued. She pushed her feet against the man’s stomach in an effort to get out, but he just grabbed her tighter.

“Stop it! You’ll fall and hurt yourself.” He held Florrie’s head so she was forced to look at him. “And the boss won’t be able to find you if you don’t stay put. I’ll take you to a place where he can find you,” he finished with a grin. “Do you want to find your boss, or not?”

“Yay!” Florrie cheered. The man was strange, but if he was going to help her find Klopp, he couldn’t be that bad. She frowned as she tried to remember what Henderson had told her about how to call older people when you didn’t know them. “You’re a nice man, sir!”

“Ah, no need for sir.” The man made the same strange laugh as he began walking up the stairs, still holding Florrie. “I’m Neville. But you just call me Uncle Nevvy.”

Florrie decided that she didn’t like Neville’s walk. It was choppy and too fast, and he didn’t have that bounce in his step like Klopp or the rocking step like Milner. His voice, which was still in her ears, kept going on about strange people from a long time ago, but it wasn’t like when Milner would tell her and the other kids anecdotes from a long time ago.

Neville finally set her down in a large room. It was big—too big—and it had a lot of dust on the floor. He put her on the only chair in there, and exhaled.

“Okay, now I’m going to tell you a story.” Neville leaned against the desk, filing his nails. “Back in the day, there lived a man called Sir Alexander Ferguson. He was the manager here, and he loved this place so much, he wanted to protect all the little children. So he created a place where they could be found, and,” he gestured around him, “this is it.”

“Will the boss find me here?” Florrie wasn’t so sure about this. There was so much dust, which meant that nobody had been here for a long time. She’d learned this when she’d gone with Klopp to the old attic in Kirkby, and dust bunnies had poured out of every corner.

“Of course. There are just two rules in this place,” Neville explained. “One, don’t leave the room. Otherwise, I won’t know where you are. And two, don’t press any buttons.”

“Why?”

“Sir Ferguson was very protective of the Theater of Dreams,” said Neville, leaning closer to Florrie. She wanted to escape, but she couldn’t get down from the chair. “And he created something very, very special for it. If any bad people got in here, he had a special lockdown button. But he never pressed it, because that would destroy the Theatre of Dreams forever.”

He inched even closer to Florrie, swelling his chest. “Walls crashing! Floors crumbling and furniture cracking! Everything going up in flames, EVERYTHING!”

“Oh!” Florrie gasped, slipping off the chair and hiding under the desk. “I won’t press it Uncle Nevvy, I promise!”

“Good.” Neville finally got away from her, striding towards the door. “I’m going to find your boss now. And just remember— Uncle Nevvy.”

Meanwhile, Sir Alexander Ferguson slowly made his way out of the stands, whistling a jolly little tune as he did. He was happy—happier than he’d been in many a month—and that caused his whistling to turn into singing.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Where we score goals on Liverpool, these days of auld lang syne—oh, Kenny!”

The other man, Sir Kenny Dalglish, shrugged. While Sir Ferguson had just experienced one of his best days in almost seven years, Sir Dalglish, somebody who had been with Liverpool his whole life, had just experienced one of his worst days in that same amount of time.

“I beg your pardon, Kenny,” Sir Ferguson spluttered, realizing just how inappropriate his timing was. “That was—quite distasteful of me, considering the circumstances…”

“Alex, it’s all good, ol’ chap.” Sir Dalglish managed to laugh, despite himself. He leaned on a chair, staring down at the pitch. “Last time you and I came ‘ere together, yer old face was all sour while me own face was grinning like I’d just spotted King David ‘imself. So if anything, I'm the one who should apologize.”

“Ye don’t say!” Sir Ferguson tried to remember if he’d seen Sir Dalglish that day. “Yer right, I can barely remember it, Kenny.”

“Yer club played well today, ol’ chap. It’s not yer fault that we’ve been rubbish.” Sir Dalglish stared at the exit. “I was just going to go home, open a bottle of me old-fashioned Scottish whisky, and brood. You going home, Alex?”

“Soon. I was just about to visit the old office.” Sir Ferguson extended his hand to Sir Dalglish. “Until next time, ol’ chap.”

The Scottish took Sir Ferguson’s hand, shaking it, and proceeded to walk away. “Ta-ta, Alex. Enjoy yer Theater of Screams.”

Sir Ferguson shook his head at Sir Dalglish’s nickname for Old Trafford. The former Liverpool manager used it whenever Liverpool had played a bad game there. Sir Ferguson, likewise, called Anfield “Shamfield” when the same happened to United. He began to walk up the stairs, wincing as he heard his joints creaking. He was getting older—but it was all good with him. He’d had his time being young, and now it was time for him to be old.

“Sir Alexander Ferguson!” A young man, probably a steward, bowed to Sir Ferguson, extending an arm. “Would you like assistance in climbing the stairs?”

“Come now laddie, no need for that,” Ferguson chuckled, ruffling the steward’s hair. “I’ve got it m’self, but thank you for asking. Just going up to visit me old office.”

The steward, who still seemed rather flustered from the hair-ruffling, nodded, heading in the opposite direction. “Good evening, Sir!”

Meanwhile, Florrie stood in a corner of the room, staring at her nails for the tenth time. She decided that she didn’t like it here—it was too big, too empty and too dusty.

And plus, she was bored.

There were no toys to play with, no TV to watch, and nothing to do in general. Nobody to talk to, no flashcards to match, no blocks—wait a minute. From the corner of her eye, Florrie spotted a flat red object under the empty bookcase. Could it be a book?

She ran towards the bookcase and peered under it. Sure as day, it was a book—something for her to read while she waited for Neville to come back. Her little hand fit under the bookcase with ease, and Florrie pulled out a dusty book—so dusty, in fact, that she couldn’t see the color or title of it.

Florrie took her hand—not wanting to use the corner of her Liverpool jersey for fear she would mess it up—and brushed off the dust. The book was a shade of sky blue and had many pictures on it—a green frog, a golden ball, a green ball, a princess in a fancy dress and hat, and three fat, pink piglets, among others. But for some curious reason, Florrie couldn’t read the words on the front cover.

Florrie squinted, tilting the book from one side to another. She could read—the fullbacks had taught her how! So how come she couldn’t read these ones?

She opened the book, and saw that while she still couldn’t read the words inside, there was a beautiful picture of a castle, highlighted with gold and cream-colored walls. On the next page, there was a prince, crowned and walking among a row of princesses.

I’ll just look at the pictures, Florrie decided, going under the desk. It was the only area that was carpeted, so the dust was considerably less than on the open floor. They’re pretty pictures, anyway.

She tried to get comfortable on the carpet, but it was very hard and nubby, and the endless dust permeated in every corner. Florrie finally found a spot with less dust—but immediately shot back to the other side as a rancid-smelling hazelnut poked her arm. She curled in on herself, the book next to her, hoping that Neville would come back soon.

After some effort climbing the stairs and taking elevators, Sir Ferguson finally made it to the office on the third tier of Old Trafford. He turned the knob, only to find it was locked.

“Hmm…I don’t recall locking the door,” he mumbled, fishing for the keys in his pocket. He found them, and inserted the keys in the slot. The door opened with a loud, familiar creeeeak, and he stepped into his office.

The first thing Sir Ferguson noticed was how dusty the place was, like nobody had been there in years. Upon further inspection, he also noticed that there were distinctive footprints leading towards the desk—two sets.

Intrigued, he bent over as far as he could. While one set of footprints were man-sized, with standard shoe-prints, the second pair were very tiny, toddler-sized footprints—even tinier than when Kasper Schmeichel, five years old at the time, had come with his goalkeeper father, Peter Schmeichel, to his first training session.

“Hello?” he called into the room. “Anybody home?”

Of course, Sir Ferguson didn’t expect anybody to answer him. What he didn’t expect was a soft rustling coming from underneath the desk, then a small, high-pitched “ow”.

Intrigued, the elderly Scotsman bent down to take a look, grumbling as he felt his joints creak. All the grumbling vanished into thin air, though, when he spied a tiny child, curled in on themselves and shaking.

“Gee willikers,” he whispered in hushed surprise. “A wee bairn, would ye know it!”

He tried to touch the little kid, grab it from under the desk. But as soon as he touched their back, a leg kicked out. The child rolled over, scooting further into the corner, and Sir Ferguson caught a glimpse of red hair bows—a little girl.

“Relax, wee bairn.” Sir Ferguson chuckled upon seeing her worried face. “Just an old Scotsman, knocking around the grounds. Say, how’d you get ‘ere?”

Instantly, her face brightened upon hearing those words. “You sound like Robbo!”

“Robbo?” Sir Ferguson tapped his forehead, trying to recall who he knew who had that name. Finally, he remembered. “As in Andy Robertson?”

“Uh…yeah!” She sat up, hugging a book to her chest. Her shirt fully on display, she raised an eyebrow, squinting her eyes into slits. “You’re old!”

“That’s true, lassie,” Sir Ferguson chuckled. “Say, what’s yer name, bairn?”

“Florrie. Are you Robbo’s daddy?” she responded promptly, and Sir Ferguson knew that his suspicions were right. Only a kid raised around a Scot would know that much Scottish at three.

“Nae, but I’m from the same country.” He extended a hand to Florrie. “Sir Alex Ferguson’s me name, from jolly ol’ Scotland.”

Florrie giggled, taking his hand. “Now you really sound like Robbo!”

“Do you come from Liverpool?” Sir Ferguson decided to keep his questions clear and straight.

“Yes! Hendo’s my daddy, and the boss kicks butt!” Florrie grinned with pure conviction, and Sir Ferguson couldn’t help but smile. “How’d you know?”

Raising a wrinkled finger, Sir Ferguson tapped the Liverpool badge on Florrie’s jersey. “It helps when ye know yer league rivals, lassie. I played fifty-two games against Liverpool as manager here in the league alone. Of course, that’s before I retired.”

He looked out the office window, saw exactly what he wanted to see, and picked up Florrie. “Look Florrie, we’d better get you back to your gaffer. He’s worried sick about you, no doubt.” And he began walking towards the door.

“Wait!” Florrie grabbed his arm, eyes darting around in panic. “We can’t leave the room.”

To say Sir Ferguson was confused would be an understatement. “Why not?”

“If we leave, they won’t find us!” Florrie exclaimed. “Uncle Nevvy said so.”

“Uncle Nevvy?!”

“He says his full name is Neville, but he said to call him Uncle Nevvy.” Florrie’s face fell as she toyed with her hair. “He said he was looking for the boss, but he hasn’t come back yet!”

“Well, then.” Sir Ferguson instantly realized what was going on, trying to conceal his fury for Florrie’s sake. “I know exactly where your boss is. And I’m the boss around here, so Uncle Nevvy’s word isn’t the last. Mine is.” He puffed out his chest a bit at the last part, opening the door. “And while we head there, why don’t you tell me about how you got here, wee bairn Florrie?”

Florrie nodded, holding up the book. “Okay!”

Meanwhile, Lijnders and Klopp were pacing in the office. As if the manner of the loss wasn’t bad enough, and struggling to bolster the spirits of the squad wasn’t a difficult task, now Florrie had gone missing. And while both the manager and vice-manager were anxious about Florrie’s disappearance, it had definitely hit Klopp the hardest.

“I can’t believe we lost her, Pep,” Klopp repeated for about the third time. “I just can’t believe it. We let her go missing.”

“We’ve searched everywhere,” Lijnders answered with a sigh. Ever since Jennings had rushed in with news of Florrie’s disappearance, the German had been…numb. Of course Lijnders had been surprised as well, but the news had sent Klopp into a state of shock.

“I made a promise to Florrie on the first night, you know.” Klopp finally faced Lijnders, and the Dutchman sighed in dismay at what he saw. Klopp had the cowl up, the one that had been a Christmas present from a long time ago. The German only wore it in very troubled times—like January 2021, or right now.

“She’d been sleeping in Ali’s bed, and Ali had her all bundled up like a little package. I unbundled her because she was too hot, and then…” He paused for quite a while before continuing. “I promised that I’d keep her safe. That no bad guys would get her, ever again, without one of us coming for help. I promised to protect her, Pep, and I couldn’t even do that?”

“We should search again,” Lijnders reasoned, glancing at the map of Old Trafford he’d picked up from the tourist’s center. “This place has three tiers, Florrie could be on one of them.”

“We sent the boys out to search and we stayed here as mission control.” Klopp opened his briefcase and took out a piece of paper. It was the drawing of a trophy Florrie had given him after the Crystal Palace game. He still remembered what she’d said to him.

“If we can’t win a shiny trophy, we’ll draw shiny trophies!” Florrie insisted, hoisting the drawing high above her head.

Klopp smirked. This kid was too precious for this world. “That’s really sweet of you Florrie, but I’m afraid that’s not how it works.”

She frowned. “It isn’t?”

“No, liebling, I’m afraid not. You see, you have to deserve a trophy. You have to earn it, schatzi, by working hard.”

“Deserve?” Her face scrunched up in thought.

“It means that you worked hard for it and did a very good job. One worthy of a reward.”

Florrie scrambled into his lap, her face lighting up. “But you work hard, boss! You protect us all, you already deserve it! And anyways.” Florrie held up the drawing, gazing at Klopp again with those pure indigo eyes. “I love you.”

“Florrie trusts us to find her,” Klopp mumbled, stroking the waxy crayon drawing of a trophy. “And we can’t let her down. She’s not our only kiddo, Pep, but she’s our first one. Our first little Liebling.”

“You’re right, Jurgen.” Lijnders sighed, refilling his coffee mug. “We have to keep waiting. We mustn’t lose hope.”

They remained in silence for a while, Klopp wearing a hole into the floor while Lijnders drank from the coffee mug like it was his lifeblood.

“Say, Jurgen.” Lijnders decided he didn’t like the silence and opted to start a conversation. “Where’d you get that neck-warmer from? I don’t recall you having it when we first arrived.”

“Oh, this?” Klopp fingered the fabric, finally halting the pacing. “It was a Christmas present from my mother. I was always stealing her scarves, and I guess she finally got sick of it,” he added with the slightest hint of laughter.

No calls came in with any news of Florrie.

All of a sudden, Lijnders and Klopp heard strange footsteps echo through the hall. They were soft but large, and carried a certain gravity to them.

“...Jurgen?” Slowly, Lijnders tried to see if Klopp was playing a prank on him. “Was that you?”

“Do I look like I’m in a mood to play games?” Klopp retorted, and Lijnders had to admit he was right.

The same footsteps sounded again louder this time. A large, ominous shadow slowly appeared, flickering in the lamplight. Lijnders jumped in fright.

“I’m scared, Jurgen,” he admitted, ducking behind the German.

“I am as well, Pep, but I can’t hide behind you or we’d look ridiculous,” Klopp pointed out. But he did hide under the desk.

As the shadow got closer, the footsteps got even louder. Soon, a pair of voices mingled with the footsteps—one of which was comfortingly familiar.

“Florrie!” Faster than you could say “Mainz”, Klopp was out from under the desk. Followed by an equally eager Lijnders, Klopp sprinted into the hall, where he saw…

“Sir Alex Ferguson?!” Lijnders squawked in disbelief. “What in the name of Heinekein are you doing here?!”

Klopp paid no attention to Lijnders. His eyes were only one person—the toddler Sir Ferguson was carrying in his left arm.

“Florrie!” Klopp swept her up, hugging her tightly. “Oh, for Mainz’s sake, I was so worried about you, Schatzi!”

“Boss!” Florrie beamed, crossing her chubby little arms. “Me and Mr. Fergie found you!”

“Mr. Fergie?” Lijnders was still in shock over the fact that Sir Alexander Chapman Ferguson was standing right there, in front of them—and after his team, United, thoroughly embarrassed Liverpool, no less!

“Sir Ferguson.” Klopp, with Florrie on his hip, approached the Scot. His tone was grateful, as was his smile. “You don’t know how much this means to us. I’m going to text the rest of the boys and girls, and tell them that we found Florrie.”

Florrie whined just then, wanting to be let down. Klopp obliged, and she immediately ran towards Lijnders, squealing in delight.

“She’s a spry bairn, that’s for sure,” Sir Ferguson chuckled. “You’re lucky to have her, Jurgen. Say, is she Henderson’s kid? Jordan Henderson?”

“Er…no,” he faltered, bewildered. “Why do you say that?”

A barrage of footsteps thundered through the hall. At first the three men thought it was the others, returning from their search, but when they looked back, they saw someone completely different.

A pale-faced man, with streaks of gray hair, a big, pointy nose and a gray, puffy coat stormed towards them. As he approached, they could all smell the overwhelming scent of breath mints on his breath.

“Naughty girl! I TOLD you to stay put!” he roared, crossing his arms. He stared Lijnders down. “What is wrong with this generation?”

“Gary Neville?!” Klopp marched up to him, staring the Brit down. “What do you know about this?”

Florrie turned towards Klopp and Ferguson, clinging onto Lijnders. “That’s him! Uncle Nevvy!”

“You don’t say.” It all clicked for Lijnders, and he set Florrie down. “Stay here, Florrie.”

A flash of panic crossed Neville’s face. He stepped back, unsure of what to do about the three men approaching him.

“You had better tell the truth about what you did to Florrie.” Unsurprisingly, Klopp spoke first. He pulled out an ashwood baseball bat, brandishing it with pride. “Or I will whoop your Hintern with much more than this bat. I will unleash my hands, my feet, the darkness in my soul, some stale pretzels from Oktoberfest 1979, desk furniture…”

“Florrie?” Neville fiddled with the lining of his hood. A nervous smile showed every one of his teeth, crooked as his soul. “W-what do you mean by that?”

Sir Ferguson huffed in disgust, his glare pinning Neville down to the ground. “The poor, defenseless young lassie that you trapped inside my old office!”

“WHAT?!” Klopp took out his ashwood bat again, quickly glancing at Ferguson. “May I whoop his butt with this please, sir?”

Ferguson nodded, and Klopp hit the bat at Neville with all the fury he had pent-up inside of him.

“B-but this is ridiculous!” Neville squawked, after the smarting on his backside had subsided a bit. “I never meant to trap her—OW!!!”

“Done and dusted.” Lijnders had retrieved his own metal flyswatter, and had done quite the job with it. “Pray go on, Sir.”

“Gary Neville, I know you very well.” Sir Ferguson pursed his lips in disapproval, shaking his head. “You knew that she was a young, innocent lassie. You trapped her in the office, on purpose, and you tricked her into thinking it was a place to keep lost children!!!” The Scot sighed, leaning against the wall. “I didn’t coach you that way, Gary. Your soul is as corrupt as Manchester City, to trick and lock up a young girl.”

“You left her all alone there,” Lijnders hissed, venom dripping from his every word. “You left her by herself, in an old office, with nothing to do and nobody with her? Sir Kenny’s right—you are a monster, Gary.”

“An old office!” Klopp grabbed Neville by the shoulders, so tight that the Englishman couldn’t even try to wriggle free. “Are you out of your Bundes-MIND?! Did you think about the surfaces she could fall from? How much dust there is inside? What she could bump against? And it’s old, Gary—she could’ve fell from there, easily!”

“Out, out of my sight!” Sir Ferguson commanded, pointing towards the exit. “And don’t you dare show your face or talk to me until I do.”

Neville raised his arms, looking as if he was going to protest. But one more smack from Lijnders, and he ran off, crying out for the help that was never coming.

“There goes a rotten apple,” Sir Ferguson commented. He stood up, grunting at his old bones. “Well, that’s a day for me. Until next time, you three.”

“Wait!” Florrie ran up to him, holding up the same book from earlier. “What’s this?”

“Oh—oh!” Sir Ferguson smiled as he took the book from Florrie, opening the pages. “It’s that Dutch book of fairytales! Ruud’s young daughter brought it in one day, and I think she forgot it in my office. You can keep it,” he chuckled, handing it back to Florrie. “Moa’s probably too big for fairytales now, anyway.”

“Oh, can I?” Florrie pleaded, eyes darting from Klopp to Lijnders. “Pleeease?”

“Why, of course! I’ll read it to you,” Lijnders offered, scooping Florrie into his arms. “I’ve not seen one of these for years! There’s The Entangled Mermaid, The Golden Helmet, The Boar with Golden Bristles…”

Klopp and Sir Ferguson watched Lijnders and Florrie head back into the office, chattering away. When they finally closed the door, the German looked up at the Scot.

“Thanks again, Sir Ferguson,” he said, finally exhaling a sigh of relief. “If something happened to Florrie, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“It’s my pleasure, Jurgen,” the former manager replied. “Don’t tell anybody I told you this, but you’re a good young man. Keep on managing.”

The two shook hands before parting ways, back to their respective rival clubs.

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