battlefield ✧ niall

"A smack on the ass for good job."

OKAY SO BEFORE YOU READ THIS IS IMPORTANT -

This is the first chapter of battlefield. The plot is a bit different from the last one and I have high hopes that this'll be better than the last one, I promise.

So if you wouldn't mind voting and commenting, thanks? Okay I love you, happy readings.

IM SO SORRY I HAD TO RE-UPLOAD THIS BC WATTPAD DELETED MY TEASER WHICH I FORGOT WHAT I WROTE SO PLEASE PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER PLEASE

AND IF YOU DO VOTE AND COMMENT I WILL UPDATE THREE TIMES THIS WEEKEND
___

Avery :

The whistle was blown, the sound barely traveling to my ear drums due to the relentless cheering and shouting coming from each side of bleachers.

One side, my team, with black and red colored shirts, and face paint, with odd trinkets to go with it, and the other side, the opposing team, with bright green goblin colors. It's sickening.

It was our ball, and me being one of the forwards, launched, Horan with the ball. He passed it up to me, and I dribbled with it, as he ran up, and I passed it back, making a zigzag. He passed it in front of the goal, before I did my fair share, and kicked it into the goal, not even watching if it went in or not, already knowing the answer.

My side cheered, ringing each other's necks as they chanted my last name, and I smirked, as I felt a smack on my ass, and all good feelings gone.

I turned around to face Horan. Sweat polished his forehead, beats dripping down, unattractively, his blue eyes shining brighter, now that we've scored, and his body dirtier than it was a few minutes ago. His hair was down from his usual quiff, and his black knee brace was now covered in mud.

"What the hell, Horan?" I asked, as he smirked, jogging up to opposing team to try and steal the ball.

"A smack on the ass for good job, Walters." He said, and the whistle hasn't been blown; the opposing team had called a time-out, which lead to Horan jogging back up to me.

"A smack on the face for get the hell away from me." I said, and he chuckled lightly, as I walked away from him, to our side of the benches, and plopped myself down. Horan approached, shortly after, looking at me. I ignored his gaze and spritz a couple shots of water on my face, and chugged half the bottle down my throat.

I looked, seeing the other team was ready, and quickly finished wiping the nasty sweat from my body, and threw the rag, randomly behind me and jogged to where I was supposed to be, and got ready to charge.

The other team, which now I learned was the gators, and I felt bad for them.

The Gators.

Stupid.

A girl in that godawful green uniform crossed her legs, getting ready to throw in. I looked around, and saw Horan and Mickey blocking two team members trying to get open. I moved my feet, glad that I didn't trip (I was known to be quite a klutz, but they kept me for my amazing skill).

I made my way towards a tall guy who was open, number ten, and blocked, receiving a good response from Coach.

I locked eyes with Horan, who nodded, and I ran away from number ten, who was not bad looking, if I do say, and kicked the ball towards Mickey when the girl, which I can now see is number five, finally threw it in.

Shouts from coach were heard clear as day, and thank goodness they were positive.

Mickey dribbled, before skyrocketing the ball to Horan, which had been stolen by number ten on the opposing team.