#i haven’t been able to play today because my game kept. shrinking?? is the only way i can describe it??

[bluuscreen]

i have better taste in men irl i swear

[beca-mitchell]

little taste of heaven (i'm caught up in you) (1/1)

Summary: now i see daylight AU - Beca and Chloe’s first date, finally. 

Word count: 3.9k

For @anna-kendrick​: We've worked on this universe for the past year and holy, it means the world to both of us that you guys love Beca and Chloe as much as we do. Thank you so much for the encouragement and love, always.And of course, again, thank you to Josi who is an incredibly talented artist. Look at this art.

title from "untouchable (taylor's version)" though I did heavily consider using "our song"...i just liked the energy of untouchable a bit more.

Read below or on AO3!

* * * * *

AGE: 15/16 LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: June

 * * * * *

 It is finally June. The warm air is only a hint of better things to come. Like the last day of school before total freedom.

Beca smiles at Chloe as she nears Beca’s locker. “Hey,” she greets. “Good practice?”

Around them, students mill about excitedly, cleaning out their lockers and making plans for the summer to come. Chloe shrugs, hair clearly still damp from her shower. “I don’t know why we keep running through practices when we have no more games for the season.”

“Got to keep the regional champions in top shape,” Beca teases. “Keep the other teams on their toes.”

“But I’m tired,” Chloe complains. She leans heavily on a neighboring locker. “Since it's the last day of school, will you come over tonight for dinner? My parents are whining about how they haven’t seen you in a while.”

Beca clears her throat, thinking about how the last time she had gone over to Chloe’s house had been when Chloe and Tom broke up...at the end of April. Over a month ago. She had gone because Chloe had been crying and upset. She had gone because even if her body ached with the anxiety of not knowing where she and Chloe stood, she and Chloe were always going to be friends first. Best friends.

Best friends who felt something more than friendship for each other. Confirmed, real feelings. Feelings that made them want to kiss each other.

Feelings that they hadn’t yet talked about. Or acted on despite both of them being extremely single at the moment.

Hell, Chloe's birthday came and went a couple weeks ago without much fanfare. Beca had been too shy to do anything remotely romantic and they ended up going to a movie with a few friends before going to an arcade.

“Bec?”

Beca nods stiltedly, pretending to contemplate her now-empty locker a bit more before turning to face Chloe. She steadies herself with a quick breath. “I’d love nothing more.”

 * * * * *

 Beca stares at her reflection with some trepidation.

“It’s just Chloe,” she mutters to herself, eyes tracking over every crease in the skirt she has picked out. Maybe I should go with jeans, she thinks. But it’s gross and hot out today.

She isn’t even sure why she’s nervous. It just feels like a return to normalcy of sorts, but Beca’s pretty sure that now that she knows what it feels like to kiss Chloe and what it feels like, a little bit at least, to know that Chloe feels somewhat similarly to her. It’s different. In a good way. Maybe it’s different in a scary way.

She isn’t even sure she can bring up the topic with her mother, so that’s an added layer of uncertainty: it’s additionally anxiety-inducing not knowing how her mother will react.

It’s well past the time that Beca should have already walked out the door to head next door by the time she actually forces herself out of her bedroom and down the stairs, but she figures Chloe will understand. And dinner is rarely ever prepared at the exact time stated in the Beale household anyway. Beca’s not too worried. Just nervous.

She finally reaches out to press the doorbell.

Chloe opens the door almost immediately. “Thought you got lost,” she teases.

“Were you just waiting behind the door?” Beca asks quickly, allowing Chloe to grab her wrist and pull her over the threshold.

“And if I was?” Chloe shoots back, offering Beca a lazy smile, playful in nature. With an underlying hint of something else.

Beca blinks the surprise away. “I wouldn’t be complaining if you were waiting for me. Just sorry I kept you waiting,” she offers.

“Dinner’s not ready anyway,” Chloe says, as Beca expected. They breeze past the living room area, taking a mild detour past the kitchen and towards the back porch. “I might have told you a slightly earlier time because I wanted to talk to you about something,” Chloe says lightly.

“Should I say hi to your parents?” Beca asks worriedly before it registers what Chloe just said. “Wait, what? Talk to me about what?”

“Come sit with me,” Chloe says instead. Patiently. She gestures towards the tree - the tree they used to play under all the time as children - nestled in the corner of the backyard.

It’s one of Beca’s favorite spots.

She follows Chloe, wondering if it’s too late to run home and change into her jeans because she’s sure the grass and sticks will prick at her skin, but she’s surprised, as they near, that there is a small blanket laid out underneath.

Chloe had planned for this.

“Please sit,” Chloe offers. She sits comfortably, patting the spot next to her. “I had a feeling you’d dress up a little. Didn’t want you to get a dress dirty.” Her eyes drift down to Beca’s skirt briefly before she lifts her eyes, smiling at Beca. Beca doesn’t feel self-conscious, shockingly. She feels content. Safe.

Maybe a little warm if anything, but she knows that’s probably the proximity to the girl she’s been crushing on for the longest time.

“I...wanted to talk to you because we haven’t...really talked. About...y’know.” A hint of nervousness creeps into Chloe’s voice. “When we kissed and then Tom…” she hesitates. “We just didn’t get to talk about anything. And now the school year’s pretty much over, so I thought…”

“Right,” Beca agrees quickly. Her palms begin to sweat. She sure as hell hopes Chloe doesn’t expect her to lead this conversation. It was mortifying enough the first time around when she had basically laid everything on the line while Chloe was still dating somebody else. When Chloe had left her with nothing more than a heartfelt, vulnerable don’t give up on me. Then she had broken up with Tom and that was all their school could talk about for weeks.

And now this. Somehow Beca survived all of that while slowly making sure her friendship with Chloe survived as well. They both made sure of that.

“I like you,” Chloe declares. “I mean...I think I always did. Like you, I mean. As more than a friend. But the feelings were really confusing.”

“I get it,” Beca says a little too quickly. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, laughing a little when Chloe smiles at her. “I feel like I haven’t stopped thinking about this for a while. But I never wanted you to feel pressured to talk about this with me even though we kissed.” She ignores the way her voice totally cracks over that last word.

“I never felt pressured,” Chloe assures her gently. “I am so...grateful that you’re in my life. I didn’t want to mess this up. But I think we should...try.”

“Try?” Beca echoes.

Chloe blushes. Like a full-on blush that spreads across her cheeks, visible to Beca even in the dying daylight. It makes her cheeks rosy and Chloe even flinches at her own reaction. “Dating,” she says simply once she seems to regain control of her emotions. “I want to go on dates with you. And hold your hand. And more kissing! If that’s what you want.”

Beca’s sure that her heart explodes somewhere in her chest because she suddenly finds it very difficult to control various parts of her body. She can’t control the smile that spreads across her face and the following, matching blush in her cheeks. It heats through her face with ease. And even worse, she can’t control the way her hand comes up to her mouth as if to instinctively cover her smile because somehow being thrilled that her crush is basically asking her out making her body react in embarrassing ways.

Chloe laughs at her, not a hint of malice in her laugh. Just joy. “I take that as a yes. Thank God, I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince my parents to move away.”

Beca rolls her eyes. Finally. Teasing. She can do that. “You wouldn’t be able to leave me. You like me too much.”

Chloe’s smile grows soft. “Well...yeah. I do. A lot.”

Beca’s breath catches. She’s sure she could kiss Chloe right now and the crazy part is, it wouldn’t even be totally weird. Or out there. Because they’re going to start dating. But maybe kissing Chloe again before their first date is frowned upon? Beca has no idea. She’s still only ever kissed one person and that person is sitting in front of her.

“Girls! Dinner!”

As if Chloe had been reading her mind and her intentions, Chloe shakes her head and stands, offering a hand to pull Beca up. When Beca stands, they’re somehow even closer - almost nose to nose - than they had been when they were sitting. “Saved by the bell,” Chloe whispers, breath close enough to be felt on Beca’s mouth.

 * * * * *

 The most interesting part is that Beca hadn’t really thought about any of this - dating Chloe - beyond just vague daydreams and fantasies about just some kind of happy utopia with Chloe by her side. It’s honestly not much different from their usual day-to-day considering how close they already are, but dating? Actual dating?

Her Google search history stares back at her accusingly.

dating tips dating best friend first date first date movies dating girl what to do

She supposes she could ask her mother, but even that brief thought makes her shrink away from her desk. Beca stands and begins pacing. She’s sure that she’s overthinking this all. That Chloe could probably care less about what they do on their first date. That Chloe’s probably just expecting them to spend time together, just the two of them. With more handholding. And maybe a kiss at the end of the night.

“Shit,” Beca mutters suddenly. She rushes back to her computer, adding another search to her list.

kiss on first date ok???

She frowns. Not quite.

kissing before first date acceptable

In the end, she is saved from her descent into a hole of online searching by a text from Chloe herself.

Chloe dinner tomorrow at south street? haven’t been downtown in a while

Beca i’m down!

The ease at which Beca replies does not at all reflect the somersaults in her stomach.

 * * * * *

 “Hey,” Chloe calls, putting her menu down. “Where’d you go just now?”

Beca blinks, realizing that she had glazed over the menu entirely, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Oh, just...contemplating…” her eyes land on the first item she sees. “Salad.” She can’t help the way her own nose wrinkles instinctively at the thought of eating salad.

Chloe is as intuitive as ever, smiling as she reaches across the table to touch Beca’s hand. “You hate salad. Especially here.”

Beca swallows, struck by both the normalcy and intimacy of Chloe’s touch. They’ve been friends for years—there is nothing extremely off-putting about them holding hands or even just randomly touching each other on the arm, shoulder, knee.

And yet—

Chloe draws her hand away, seemingly not at all aware of Beca’s inner turmoil this time. She refocuses on her menu. “Want me to order something for you?” she asks instead.

Beca nods, though she is surprised. “Sure.” Now she’s curious as to what Chloe will order for her. And if she’s being honest, it kind of makes her feel giddy, the thought of Chloe knowing her well-enough to order something. Not that Beca would even bother with telling Chloe that she’s wrong. She’d eat anything at this point, just to spend more time with Chloe.

It’s not even like they’re at a fancy restaurant. It’s a diner downtown. The bright retro designs all around plus the comfortable, plush booth seats are all appealing to Beca and she likes the general atmosphere.

But she kind of wants to just…

“Can I sit next to you?” she blurts out. Immediately, she clamps her mouth shut, resisting the urge to avoid Chloe’s curious gaze, which lifts to meet hers immediately.

Chloe grins. “I would want nothing more. Get over here.”

Beca nearly sags in relief, but focuses instead on moving around the booth so she and Chloe are sitting closer, now on side of the booth.

Beca focuses on the frequent piece of advice she had found through a few somewhat reliable Google results.

Hold her hand.

Beca does. She inches her pinky across the cool vinyl seats until she can feel Chloe’s against her finger. Then, she slips her hand over Chloe’s, gently hooking her fingers on Chloe’s palm until Chloe gets the idea.

Chloe’s hand flips slowly, their palms touching. Beca exhales, sliding her fingers between Chloe’s, already liking the easy, comfortable fit of their hands.

Chloe says nothing, content to enjoy the silence and familiarity just as Beca is content to allow her feelings to take over. For a moment, Chloe appears to be perusing the menu in silence, but there is a steadiness to the set of Chloe’s shoulders. Beca can tell, having been so attuned to Chloe’s characteristics for longer than she’d like to admit. For longer than even Chloe herself knows at this moment. She glances at her date—her date!—selfishly taking the moment to appreciate Chloe’s profile.

It’s something she has done so many times before, but this time...this time, in a diner outside of town with the soft clatter of dishes around them and Chloe’s soft, warm palm against her own, Beca knows this is different.

“You know,” Chloe starts awkwardly. “I...obviously don’t mind if you ordered on your own.”

Beca laughs. “Why’d you offer to then?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe says, exasperation in her voice. She groans and hangs her head slightly. “I asked Max and-”

“You asked your brother what to do on a date with me?”

“No!” Chloe explains before she snorts. “I just...told him I was worried about impressing a girl. And I don’t know why, but I somehow thought he’d have some idea.” She grins a little, glancing at Beca out of the corner of her eye. “Did it work?”

“Maybe a little,” Beca says distractedly. She’s more fixated on the fact that Chloe must have been truly desperate to have turned to her older brother for help.

“Oh and he totally guessed I was going out with you, by the way.”

That’s not something that thrills Beca too much. Her imagination immediately conjures up a comically exaggerated vision of Chloe’s brother threatening her with a knife. “How?” she asks. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, really. He just kind of guessed and then said ‘finally’ or something like that.”

“Well, thank you for offering to order for me. It was very...chivalrous of you.”

“Please stop.”

“Quite charming.”

“Beca.”

“I can’t wait to see what other moves you try on me. Are we going to share one milkshake?”

“...no?”

 * * * * *

 They end up ordering two separate milkshakes because Beca sticks to her vanilla and Chloe orders chocolate.

“Try,” Chloe commands. “You always get vanilla. Chocolate is so good.”

Beca sighs, but obediently sticks her straw into Chloe’s cup despite Chloe’s protests of “contamination” and quickly takes a sip just to shut Chloe up for the time being. It’s not horrible - Beca just isn’t the fan of how chocolate tastes in milkshake form, though she’s sure Chloe will claim there’s no difference if the milkshake were in a solid chocolate bar form instead.

However, she’s mildly distracted by the sudden proximity she and Chloe have between them. Chloe’s arm rests loosely over her shoulder, where she had put her arm when Beca leaned in to drink from Chloe’s cup. She can practically feel Chloe’s breath on her neck and her cheek.

It would be so easy to just turn and -

Beca shakes her head slightly and shifts back. Chloe takes a moment longer to slowly move her arm from around Beca’s shoulders.

“What?” Beca asks quietly, poking at her fries a little. She catches Chloe smiling at her affectionately.

“Nothing,” Chloe replies quickly. “Just...you smell nice. That’s all.”

 * * * * *

 “I guess it’s kind of convenient that we live together,” Beca remarks, trying not to think too hard about the way Chloe’s hand feels in her own. She winces. “Well. Not live together. But…you know. Live next to each other.”

Chloe tilts her head, smiling as they walk up the path towards their houses. “And why is that convenient?” she asks lightly.

Beca blushes. She hadn’t thought this far. “I’m…I don’t know. I was just…commenting. On the convenience.”

Chloe giggles, pulling Beca closer ever so slightly. Beca likes the way their arms press together. She likes holding Chloe’s hand. She likes lifting her other hand to curl against the bend of Chloe’s elbow.

She likes knowing that Chloe likes her—really likes her—and Chloe enjoyed their date and—and—

“This is you,” Chloe murmurs, stopping in front of Beca’s door.

Beca kind of doesn’t want the night to end. She wants to sit on the porch and talk to Chloe for a few more minutes. Maybe one more hour. Just to hear the sound of her voice and have her attention for a few moments longer.

“This is me,” Beca parrots, feeling a lot more nervous than she thinks she’s letting on. That was what people said in those movies adorning Chloe’s shelves, right? It was what the internet said. Normal first date cliches. She steps backwards, under the light of her front porch, still holding Chloe’s hand as she does so. Chloe hesitates for a moment like she wants to follow, but ultimately she simply squeezes Beca’s hand in understanding and drops her own hand away.

Beca is immediately disappointed. She hadn’t wanted that at all. She bites her lip, watching as Chloe awkwardly shuffles her feet before she glances back up at Beca. A soft, slow smile spreads across Chloe’s lips, gentle and affectionate all at once. It makes Beca’s heart pound ridiculously hard.

“I had fun,” Chloe whispers, like she’s afraid somebody else will hear her. But not because she's afraid of other people. Just afraid that their bubble will burst, like Beca is. Another step closer. Beca swallows. “Can we do that again?”

“You’d want to go on more dates?” Beca asks, just to clarify, even though she knows exactly what Chloe’s asking.

“I would love to go on more dates with you.”

“Me too,” Beca squeaks out. “I—um—”

Chloe’s smile stretches, somehow happier than before. “Goodnight Beca.”

Something in Beca snaps. She steps forward, just two small steps and calls out Chloe’s name. “Wait,” she adds hastily.

Chloe stops and turns, surprised.

“Can I—” Beca swallows, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Can I kis—”

She doesn’t get to finish her question before Chloe is covering the ground between them in two short strides, wrapping her hand around the back of Beca’s head, letting the other come up to Beca’s arm, and kissing her for all her worth.

Beca gasps in surprise into the kiss, hands coming up to Chloe’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Gently and slowly, Chloe presses further into the kiss, her lips moving ever so lightly against Beca’s. It is so much more than their first kiss—a do-over, if anything—and Beca realizes, with a jolt, that this is something she can do now. She can kiss Chloe because Chloe likes her and Chloe went on a date with her. Chloe held her hand all night.

Chloe wants to kiss her too.

Beca hums happily at the thought, looping her hands behind Chloe’s neck. It feels instinctual even as Beca blushes at the sudden intensity of the kiss. She knows Chloe has kissed more people than she has; she knows Chloe will forever have more experience in this regard. But God, Beca thinks that she has never felt more wonderful or powerful than she does in this moment, tightening her grip on the fabric of Chloe’s light jacket.

Pulling back ever so slightly, Beca heaves a breath and rests her forehead against Chloe’s forehead. Chloe’s breathing is the tiniest bit labored as well. For a moment, neither of them dares to move, too afraid to break the spell between them.

Chloe is the first to smile—the first to press forward ever so slightly so their noses brush delicately. “What were you going to ask?” Chloe murmurs.

Beca swats her shoulder lightly. “You’re so weird,” she mumbles back, leaning in to steal just one more kiss from her beautiful, wonderful date.

 * * * * *

 When Beca reaches the solitude of her bedroom, she finally gets what all those high school romcoms were about. Showing their protagonist thrilled to finally finish a date so they can squeal and giggle and simply dream about their crush or date. It’s probably the first time that Beca has felt her energy rebound around her room with such happiness and positivity. The sensation is addicting—she honestly just wants to text Chloe all night.

Which, honestly, she could.

Chloe kissed her. Chloe kissed her because she likes her and they just went on a date. A freaking date.

A text from Chloe jolts her back to reality.

Chloe i miss you, is that weird?

Beca no because i miss you too. weirdo.

Chloe i have something else to tell you. that might be weird. Idk

Beca go for it.

Beca watches the text bubbles float in and out on her screen, like Chloe is typing a paragraph. Despite Chloe just saying that she missed her, Beca can’t help but feel nervous.

Chloe I just wanted you to know why i picked south street. it’s because. well. Remember when we first went there by ourselves without our parents. Sometime last year. With a few friends. And we all squeezed into that booth and sat there and shared fries and milkshakes and felt like we were at the top of the world because we were finally in high school or something stupid like that. I don’t even remember much about that night or who we were with but i do remember seeing the way you laughed at something and how your entire face lit up. and i remember thinking that i really liked you and how scary it was that i felt these things for you so suddenly and so much. Like a lot. but i’m so glad that we both got to this point - that we both feel the same way. I just really loved the way you looked when you laughed and i am so happy you’re in my life.

Chloe also i really like kissing you

Beca doesn’t even bother replying.

She shoves on her shoes again and rushes out the front door. She is only surprised to see Chloe sitting on her own front porch, staring worriedly at her phone.

“You really are so weird, y'know that?” She calls out, careful not to startle Chloe too much.

Chloe does jump anyway, but she sets her phone down quickly. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing this date off again that you confessed your big scary feelings. Through a text message.” Beca pretends to be annoyed as she stomps over to Chloe. “You couldn’t have said all that?”

“You make me nervous!” Chloe exclaims.

Beca shakes her head, mustering up all the courage she has in the world, pulling Chloe in for a kiss like she wanted to earlier before Chloe beat her to it.

“So much better,” Beca whispers, smiling when Chloe huffs quietly against her mouth.

It's the perfect end to the beginning Beca has been dreaming of all this time.

fin.

[andithiel]

I've been feeling a bit detatched from my writing lately, but I wanted to do something for Harry's birthday. So I managed to get out 2k of, I think maybe fluff? Many thanks to @booktopusmunro for the speedy beta and encouragement ❤️ Happy birthday Harry! Sidenote: Sega Mega Drive was called Sega Genesis in the US. This fic is loosely based on a scene from the Friends episode “The One Where Rachel Finds Out”.

Start Level

“Everybody! Hey, everybody, settle down! It’s time for Harry to open his presents!”

Ron’s sonoroused voice made Harry wince as he sat cross-legged in his favourite squishy armchair. A belly full of birthday cake and the comfort of  his friends surrounding him made Harry sleepy; but as he watched them all scramble to get seated as close to him as possible, a warmth rose in his chest. Ron had, of course, already sat down on the sofa closest to Harry before he made the announcement, but at Harry’s single raised eyebrow he shrugged with a crooked grin.

Harry snorted. He knew that with five older brothers, it was inevitable that Ron knew how to get to the front first. He looked around the room, trying not to tear up at the sight of all his friends gathered around, sitting on each other’s laps or perched on tables and armrests, all looking expectedly at him.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong with him?” Pansy stage-whispered to Hermione.

“Nothing,” said Harry, to let Hermione off the hook. “I’m just happy to get to spend my birthday with the people I love.”

Well, all except one, he thought. Draco hadn’t been able to get out of his work shift, and Harry refused to admit how disappointed he’d been when he’d found out about that, because it wasn’t reasonable for him to be. It wasn’t as if he expected Draco to be around all the time now just because they were sort of friends, or at least hung out in the same friend circles. But still, it wasn’t every day you turned 25 and wanted to celebrate with the people you cared most about.

Harry accepted the gift that Ron handed to him with a smile and a “Happy birthday, mate.” He tore the wrappings off to reveal a set of Wizards Chess. At Harry’s puzzled expression Ron explained. “Well, since you lost your old set I thought I’d give you a new one so we can play again!”

“Right,” Harry said with a tight smile, not mentioning that he knew damn well where his old set was (buried deep in a box in his attic because he was sick of losing to Ron all the time). “Thanks,” he managed to grind out, hoping it sounded sincere.

The rest under the cut or on ao3

“Maybe this one will be more useful,” said Blaise, as he handed Harry a thick, heavy parcel.

“Thanks Blaise!” Harry turned the package in his hands. “Hmmm, it feels like a book. Pretty sure it’s a book.” He unwrapped it. “And it’s a book! It’s— oh.”

“What, Harry?” Luna straightened up a bit to try and get a look.

“Um, nothing,” said Harry, trying to hide the Kama Sutra for Beginners behind his back. “Nothing, it’s, uh, I’ll have a closer look at this later.”

Blaise smirked and Harry whipped his head around to the stack of gifts next to him, wanting to occupy his mind with something other than the writhing bodies on the cover of the book currently taking up all the space in his head. “Who’s this from?” He picked up a big box wrapped in black paper with little golden snitches on it and a big golden bow on top.

“Oh that’s Draco’s,” said Pansy. “I promised I’d give it to you since he couldn’t make it today.”

“Right, right. Thanks Pansy,” Harry mumbled as he carefully peeled the tape from the paper, both so he wouldn’t tear it and so he could busy himself with the task instead of thinking about how Draco was holed up in St Mungo’s on Harry’s birthday.

He finally managed to get all the tape off and unwrapped the gift slowly. The sight of the box made him let out a gush of air, unable to believe that this was really real. Had Draco actually bought him—?

“What is it, Harry?” asked Hermione, trying to lean in closer to see what was in the box.

“I can’t—” Harry began, before swallowing and starting over. “I can’t believe he remembered.”

“What? What is it?” came a collective query from the group, everyone edging closer now.

Carefully, Harry opened the box to see if the content really matched the exterior, and when he’d made sure it really did, he had to pause again to blink repeatedly against the sting in his eyes. Then he picked up the black plastic box, twisting it in his hands. The room was silent, probably because few of them knew what this was.

“It’s a Muggle video game,” Harry tried to explain. “It’s… It must’ve been weeks ago, months maybe. We passed a Muggle second-hand store and I saw this and I… I made some throwaway comment about how Dudley used to have one of these but I was never allowed to play.” He stroked his thumb over the white letters forming the words “Mega Drive SEGA”, while memories of how he’d desperately wanted to play resurfaced in his mind. This console, like so many others before and after it, had not lasted long in the Dursley household. Before Harry had had any chance at trying it out, Dudley had stomped on it after the umpteenth attempt of getting past Dr. Eggman in the Oil Ocean Zone.

“Oh,” said Hermione softly in his ear, making him realise how close she was. “I remember these! Never had one myself but I sometimes played on my friend’s.”

Harry couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t an extravagant gift, money-wise, but the thoughtfulness and the effort it must have taken Draco to find this for him was astounding. The game was almost mint condition. Draco must’ve gone back to the store to get a better look, and then found it in another store, because the one they’d seen had been old and battered. The gift made something stir in Harry, something he hadn’t allowed himself to think about before, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for even now.

“Oh, come on, remember when Draco went to Healer school and he fell in love with Keith Hendricks and bought him that ridiculously expensive non-spatter cauldron?” Ron chortled on Harry’s other side.

The room fell quiet and it took a few seconds for Ron’s words to process in Harry’s brain. He snapped his eyes up, looking sharply at Ron, whose ears had gone bright red.

“What did you just say?”

Ron’s eyes went wide and he gave Pansy, who was staring at him with a thunderous expression, a panicked look. “Uh…” said Ron, then cleared his throat several times while shrinking into the sofa. “Er… huh… ummm, non-spatter cauldron?”

“No. No, no,” said Harry, trying to wrap his head around Ron’s words. “The um, the ‘love’ part?”

Ron was now spluttering, frantically looking around the room for any sort of help from someone, and that was enough for the truth to register in Harry’s brain.

“Oh. My. God,” was all he managed to get out.

“Oh, noooo nononononono,” Ron chanted, rubbing his temples. “Noooo, I’m such a lousy friend!”

“I cannot believe this is the first time I hear about this!” Pansy snapped. “And to think that Draco confided in you, of all people!”

Ron straightened up and threw her a sharp look. “Hey! The ferret and I have a very trusting and mature friendship!”

“Yes, clearly he did the right thing trusting you with this information!” Pansy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well it’s not like I’ve told anyone else! I’ve even kept it from my own wife!”

“Oh, bravo, Weasel, ten points to Gryffindor.” Pansy inclined her head in Ron’s direction and clapped her hands in mock applause. “And then you chose this moment to spill the beans, very clever. I’ll have you know that I’ve kept it a secret that he had a crush on Potter back at Hogw—” she said, but interrupted herself. “Er, nevermind.”

Harry felt like he was watching a ping pong match, his mind reeling at all this information. Draco’d had a crush on him at Hogwarts? And now he was in love with him?

“Aha!” Ron shouted triumphantly. “Who’s the bad friend now?”

“Can the two of you shut the fuck up?!” Harry said, surprised at his own words and the force behind them. “I need to think.”

“Yes! Yes, give the poor man some space to think!” Ron hastily said, his expression amix of relieved and frantic.

But before Harry had time to properly panic, the door opened.

“Well, I had to bribe Healer Merriweather by taking all her night shifts for a month, but at least I managed to get here,” said Draco as he stepped inside, impeccably dressed as ever. “Please tell me I haven’t missed the cake.” He paused in front of the doorway, looking around the room, all eyes turned on him. “What? What happened? Is there something on my shirt?” He started patting himself all over, looking for a non-existing stain.

Harry could only stare at him, at the way his hair fell into his eyes and how he had to constantly flick his head to keep it away. The flush on his cheeks from apparently having rushed from the hospital, just to be able to celebrate Harry’s birthday because he knew how important it was to him. Or maybe because he’d seen how disappointed Harry’d been when Draco’d told him he wouldn’t be able to make it and now he‘d wanted to make it up to him. The care with which he had selected a present for Harry just to make him happy. There was a swooping sensation in Harry’s stomach, and suddenly his mouth started speaking before he could stop himself.

“You’re in love with me?”

Draco froze, his eyes widening comically before flitting around the room to finally land on Ron, who seemed to try to make himself a permanent part of Harry’s sofa. After a split second, Draco leaned back into the hallway, not meeting Harry’s eyes once. “Wait, what’s that? Oh, no! I see Head Healer Patel’s patronus, oh this can’t be good, I really must be off.”

He turned around and bolted for the door, but with the reflexes of a seeker, Harry apparated into the hallway, right in front of the stairs.

“You’re in love with me,” he repeated, more like a statement now, or maybe a confirmation to himself.

Draco folded his arms across his chest, lifting his chin. “I have no idea what gave you that impression, Potter, but—”

“Ron told me. Or, well, to be fair he accidentally let it slip.”

“Weasel,” Draco hissed. “I should’ve known it was unwise to get drunk with him. That red-headed buffoon act is a great cover to trick people into trusting him with—”

He didn’t get any further, because right then, Harry decided that he needed to do what he did best: use his gut. And his gut told him that he was pants with words, especially compared to Draco. And he wanted to make Draco stop talking, so he did the first thing that came to mind. He stepped closer and pressed his lips to Draco’s. It was probably the most chaste kiss he’d ever experienced, and yet it gave his stomach that funny swooping feeling again. Draco made a funny sound, like a mix of a squeak and a sharp inhale, and Harry realised that maybe this wasn’t what Draco wanted and started to pull back. But then he was thoroughly proven wrong when Draco grabbed him by the collar and pushed him backwards until they hit the opposite wall. Harry gasped when his head thumped against it, and then again when Draco opened his mouth and really kissed him, hands still fisted in Harry’s shirt.

It was the kind of kiss that, had they not been in Harry’s hallway, it would’ve led to other things. Harry’s body responded immediately, and he desperately wanted more. But their frantic snogging came to an abrupt halt when they suddenly realised they weren’t alone anymore.

“Oh,” someone said softly, and Harry didn’t need to look to know it was Luna.

Then someone (who sounded a lot like Pansy) shouted “What?” and there was the unmistakable sound of all their friends rushing to get to Harry’s front door first, then someone else (definitely Ron) yelled, “I don't need to see that!”

Harry kept his gaze firmly on Draco, cheeks gone pink and lips wonderfully kiss-swollen.

“Let’s go to your place, yeah?”

Draco nodded, eyes bright, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. Harry couldn’t wait to suck it into his mouth again.

“Right, hang on for one second,” Harry said, fishing out his wand from his pocket. “Accio Draco’s present!” With a spark of satisfaction he heard Blaise mutter “Ow!” when the box undoubtedly smacked into his head as it zoomed towards Harry��s outstretched hand.

But just as he was about to catch it, Draco cast a Depulso, making the game fly towards Luna, who caught it with an expression of curiosity as she twisted it in her hands.

“I’m very happy that you like your present so much, but trust me, Harry,” Draco murmured into his ear, “there won’t be time for any video games when I get you alone.”

[c-watches-too-many-shows]

‘The One’ - Mat Barzal (Part Two)

It’s finally here! Sorry it took me so long to write it, uni is killing me. Like and reblogs are always appreciated!

Hope you like it!

PS: I didn’t proofread it so almost sure there are some errors sorry!

Part 1

Masterlist

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: implicit mention of sex (?)

-

Tonight was Mat’s night, he was scoring goal after goal and he knew the reason. Every time he had the puke he advanced with one thing in mind: you. Knowing that he could look up and find you there in your old spot between the wags, smiling and cheering for him was all the fuel he needed to play what was probably his best game of the season so far.

You had missed it so much. The mere feeling of being there surrounded by everyone, the atmosphere of the place, it was electrifying. However what you had missed the most definitely was the way his head would instinctively shoot up after each goal, each assistance; his eyes meeting with yours and being able to express to him how proud and happy you were with just one look.

Before you knew it the game was over, the boys rushed to the locker room and you stayed with the girls waiting for them. That’s when the nerves started kicking in. There was only one thing left for the night and you still weren’t sure what to expect.

Ever since your encounter earlier that week you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Nevertheless no matter how much you thought about it you never seem to find an answer to all your doubts. You were still clueless as to how the night could turn out. Were you going to get back together? Or just talk until you came to the conclusion that there was no solution?

Part of you wanted everything to go back to how it was a year ago, get back together and forget you even thought you could live without each other. But another part, the more rational one, kept reminding you that even a year later you still had the same problems you did then, nothing had or could change really. So was it worth trying again just to stumble over the same stone and having to go over the same painful process of walking away from him?

Your thoughts were interrupted when the locker room opened and Mat was the first out.

“Hey superstar!” You walked up to him. His face lit up when he saw you there. This was surely another thing he had missed, having you there to celebrate the triumphs and comfort him after the defeats. He didn’t hesitate and pulled you into his chest, arms holding you tight against him. His smile only grew when he felt you hug him back.

“That was amazing. Really. I haven’t seen you play like that since…” you started to say as you pulled away but words died in your mouth when you realized where the sentence was going.

“I know.” he replied.

“What about me? Wasn't I amazing?” a familiar voice added from behind you and soon you felt an arm around your shoulders.

"Yes you were amazing as well Tito" you said turning to the blonde next to you.

"Thank you." he said before tightening his grip on you, giving you a side hug. Mat observed the interaction happily, trying to hide the grin on his face. "Come on, first round is on me."

"Not today man." Mat mumbled between his teeth, brows raising trying to signal to his best friend this was not the moment. It took Tito second to realize where he was screwing up. Once he did he mouthed a ‘sorry’ to his friend, lips pursed into an awkward grin.

"We can go if you want. I don't mind-" you started to say but he was quick to cut you off.

"I don't want to." he stopped you, sounding a bit rough. You looked at him confused, you knew Mat loved celebrating with the guys after a win, especially after a big one like the one they had today.

"I mean I obviously enjoy going to celebrate after a win, but tonight all I want is to be just us and, you know, talk." he clarified after seeing the muddled look on your face, reassuring you he was okay with missing out tonight, he had something way more important to do.

"Ok.” you agreed with him, knowing that there was a certain conversation that needed to happen. “Let me say goodbye to the rest and then we can go." you told him before turning around and walking away.

He watched you as you hugged his teammates and their partners, loving how you just fitted between them, like you were always meant to be part of this group that had become his chosen family. It was clear to him that you were what was missing from his life, he already knew it but seeing you back in it only confirmed it. In that moment he understood he was willing to do anything to have you back.

"Sorry man I forgot." Tito brought him back to reality. He just titled his neck brushing it off. "So how are you? Nervous?"

"Very." he replied as he kept on shifting his weight from side to side.

"What do you think she'll say?"

"I honestly don't know. I just hope she takes me back. If she says no I-I don't know-" He started getting anxious at the mere thought of you rejecting him. Tito could perceive this and tried to calm him down.

"She's gonna say yes Mat. You two are meant to be, known it since the day you presented her to us."

"I really hope you're right." he replied but you were back before he could start spiraling again.

"Ready?" he asked as you stood next to him. You nodded and went to give Tito a final hug.

“Listen to him. Please.” he murmured into your ear, low enough so Mat wouldn’t hear him. Your heart shrinked, it sounded almost like a pleade.

"Goodbye Beau.” You pulled away with a smile. “Take a shot for me."

"Oh I will."

With that you both turned around and started making your way to the parking lot side to side. Your left hand accidentally brushed his right one and it sent a shock down your spine. Mat obviously noticed your reaction which made you look away, embarrassed of how much effect he still had on you with such little things. You were surprised when you felt his hand slowly slip into yours.

He knew he was taking a risk, not sure what your response would be. However you didn’t pull away, you even gave his hand a slight squeeze. He beamed down at you and a guilty feeling started growing on you. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t want to give him false hopes, especially when you still didn’t know how you wanted the night to go.

-

It was going to be a simple night, no fancy outing or anything, just dinner at his place and then eventually the so equally dreaded and anticipated talk.

Once you were at his place you were surprised to see everything was pretty much the same. Everything was exactly where it used to be, even the portraits with pictures of the two of you and the small basket with blankets he had bought after you had told him how cold his apartment would get some nights. He never understood that until one night, meryl days after your break up when he found himself alone watching the tv unable to sleep shivering, and the only comfort he could get were those blankets. But not necessarily because they kept him warm, only because they still had your essence.

“I obviously didn’t cook.” he informed you as he placed his bag near the door and made his way to the kitchen.

“Obviously.” you teased following him closely.

“We can order whatever you want and .. I bought this” He turned around with a bottle of your favourite wine in his hands. You smiled at the sweet gesture, he still remembered.

As he turned back to grab the corkscrew and open the bottle, you went to the cupboards to grab two glasses. Then passed them to him and took a seat on the counter next to him as he poured the drink. He gave you one glass and proceeded to lean against the kitchen island in front of you.

The whole scene felt so familiar, it had happened countless times when you were together, casual evenings drinking wine in his kitchen as you told him about your day or talked about his last game.

He watched you take a sip of your glass as your eyes wandered through the kitchen and a thought sneaked into his mind, a dirty one. It wasn’t exactly a thought, it was more of a memory. His cheeks went red and he tried pushing it away but he couldn’t.

“Do you remember…” he started to say, not sure if he should bring it up or not.

“Ander’s birthday last year?” you finished his sentence. The same thought had taken over your mind the second you sat on the counter and rested your head against the cupboard.

“Yes!” he let out with a chuckle, letting his head fall back with relief.

“We were wasted.” you pointed out as you remembered that night.

You had both drank a little too much at Anders birthday and after somehow making it back home in one piece you didn’t make it past the kitchen. Your breath hitched as you recalled his strong arms lifting you and placing you on the counter, your hands tangled in his hair, his lips on your neck, your legs around his waist.

“Still some of the best sex I’ve ever had tho.” he pointed out.

“Oh for sure. I still have a small scar in the back of my head as proof.” you added causing both of you to crack up. At some point that night you had hit yourself with the cupboard behind you, but you were so drunk you only realized the morning after.

“We had some good times, didn’t we?” you said reminiscently once the laughter had died.

“We can still have more.” he corrected you.

“Mat...” The gloomy tone on your voice warned him.

“Let’s wait until after dinner to talk about everything, ok?” he suggested and you nodded, not wanting to ruin the nice moment you were just having. There would be time later to have that serious conversation, even if you didn’t want that time to come. He could tell how you were starting to drift away in your thoughts, certainly not good ones, so he rapidly changed the topic. “What do you want to eat then?”

“Maybe pizza? I’m not in a fancy mood.”

“Pizza it is.”

The pizza arrived in a matter of minutes, you insisted on paying since he had bought the wine, and he had to hold back the casual comment of how he’d be paying the next time, because he didn’t know if there would be a next one but he did know pushing you would only lower his chances of ending the night on a good note.

You decided to move the dinner to the living room where you’d be more comfortable. Both of you sat on the large couch, glass of wine in one hand slice of pizza in the other.

-

An hour later the pizza was long gone, so was the wine. You had talked about practically every topic, both of you too scared to touch the one you were there to talk about in the first place.

The room went silent and you knew it was time.

“So …”

“It’s time, isn’t it?” He placed down his glass on the small table, getting ready for what was about to come.

“Didn’t you want to have this conversation?” you chirped him up a little to take the tension off.

“I did- I do! Doesn’t change the fact I’m nervous as hell.” He ran his hand through his hair, something he’d do when he was on edge.

“Don’t be, it's same old me Mat.” you told him trying to calm him down, but also trying to calm yourself, reminding you it was Mat after all. No matter how things turned out tonight, it was Mat, nothing bad could happen.

He took a deep breath, mentally going over everything he needed to say. He had even practiced it with Tito, something his best friend would tease him about for the rest of their lives. He wanted to have the right words to express how he felt, scared one wrong move could blow his last chance with you.

“I missed you so much Y/N. I still can't believe I ever let you go. I replay that night in my head over and over again and I don’t understand how I just let you leave. We were having a fight because I was gone all the time and when I wasn’t gone you were working, and I was mad because there was nothing I could do about it and you were mad too. I don’t even remember who proposed it-”

“It was me. I was the one who said maybe breaking up was the better option.” you cut him off. Flashbacks of that night started rushing to your head as he spoke and you certainly remembered things differently.

“It wasn’t just a fight Mat, it was the same fight over and over again. I know that sometimes we forget about the bad things and just keep the nice memories, that’s what we were doing days ago in the coffee, but the bad moments still existed Mat, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Towards the end we’d fight almost weekly and it was always the same, we fought until we were exhausted and then we’d just push it away and pretend everything was fine because we both knew there was no solution for our problems.”

You told yourself you’d have an open mind, not discard the idea of getting back together immediately because you knew part of you wanted that. Nevertheless ignoring the problem you had would not solve anything. You needed Mat to accept things weren’t good, recognize you had problems. If not things were destined to fail once again.

“I know. I know we had problems, I remember the fights, but we can learn from them. It doesn’t have to be like that this time.” he was quick to add. It sounded childish but he had thought of good comebacks, almost as if he was preparing for an exam, the hardest and most important of his life.

However you had good arguments too. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to believe this time would be different but how could it be if everything was still the same?

"Nothing has changed Mat. You still have to travel and train and even if you could somehow spend less time away it would be selfish from me to ask you to. It's your dream Mat I'm not gonna do that. Plus I'm putting my job first too so it would be hypocritical of me to ask you not to do the same."

He knew what you were doing, he knew you too well not to. You were closing the door before it was even open because you were scared. Still he understood why it was like that, you were right up to a certain point, but he wasn't about to give up, not when he finally had the chance to say everything he had been wanting to ever since that horrible night.

“You’re just thinking about the bad things. Remember all the good times we had Y/N, don’t you think it’s worth it? Because I sure think it is.”

In a leap of faith he scooted closer to you and grabbed your hands that were resting in your laps. He needed the contact, he needed you to feel how honest he was being, how much he wanted this.

“We still have it, I know we do, I felt it in the coffee shop days ago, tonight at the game, on the drive here, as we were having dinner. I know we have it, I know we can make it.”

That all too familiar knot started forming in your throat and your vision went blurry with tears that threatened to fall any second. He was tearing down your barrier, but behind it all you could show were the wounds from the past.

"I don't want to go through it again Mat. It hurt-” you started to say but your voice broke mid sentence, you couldn't hold it anymore. “The fighting, the impotence, the break up, trying to move on. It all hurt too much I can't do all of that again." you cried out, too busy feeling all the emotions you had bottled up to feel embarrassed for the scene you were causing.

Mat was heartbrokened. He hated that he was the reason for those tears rolling down your cheeks. For a moment he considered giving up, he couldn't see you like that anymore, he couldn't bear the thought of him being what caused you so much hurt.

But he didn't. ‘One last time’ he told himself. One last time and if you said no then he’d accept it. It would kill him yes, but he would accept it because you were all that mattered to him and if letting you go was the right thing for you he'd do it. He'd do anything for you.

With that in mind, knowing it would be his last attempt, he started getting anxious. He could feel you slowly slipping away from him. Nerves got the worst of him, it was evident when he started talking again.

"But we don't have to. We won't Y/N. You're it for me, I promise if we try again I won't let you go this time. Well I mean you can break up with me if we get back together obviously, I won't force you or anything- what I mean is I won't break up with you- Not that I ever wanted! But I-" he started stumbling on his words and you couldn't help but giggle. He felt pathetic but at least he was able to make you somehow feel better throughout the tears, that was a bit gratifying.

However he still needed to get it together, so he took a final deep breath trying to gather his thoughts. Already knowing what his next words were going to be he moved closer and gently placed a hand on your face, making sure you were looking at him when he said it because he needed you to see how much he meant it.

"I love you Y/N. I still do and I dont think I'll ever stop loving you.” Your eyes went wide at his words, deep down you knew it, but hearing it was different. You never thought you'd hear those words from Mat’s lips again, yet he was right in front of you saying it, looking at you with all the love in the world, and something started building inside of you.

“These past few months showed me what a life without you is like and I don't ever want to go through that again.” he continued, now more confident after seeing your reaction. “I want to wake up next to you. I want you to tell me about what weird dream you had while I make us breakfast. I want to pick you up from work every afternoon. I want you to wear my jersey and take you to all my games. I want silly fights about which movie we should watch. I want to come home to find you asleep on the couch and pick you up and tug you to sleep. I want to show you off to everyone. I want to make up after every fight. I want to start and end every single day with you. I want to get married and have kids and grow old.”

With every sentence your smile only grew bigger, you tried to contain it but you couldn’t hide it anymore. Mat noticed this and got so excited he kept on going to the point he even forgot where he was going so he took a pause before finishing his confession.

“What I’m trying to say is: I love you Y/N. I love you so much and I know we can make it work. Please give us a second chance”

You looked at his eyes one final time. They were full of hope, something you lacked but you were sure he had enough for both of you. All the reasons why this wasn’t going to work didn’t matter anymore, not when you had the love of your life in front of you telling you he still loved you, fighting for you, reassuring you you’d make it this time. You couldn’t say no to him, most importantly you didn’t want to. You wanted him as much as he did, you missed him as much as he did and you loved him as much as he loved you.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, needing the extra touch as encouragement to say something you’d been holding in for too long.

“I love you.” you whispered, lips less than an inch apart from his, noses touching. Your eyes were closed but you could feel his smile. He let out a deep breath, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally being lifted off his shoulders. He couldn’t count how many nights he dreamed of you saying those words to him, it was surreal.

“I love you” he replied before shortening the distance between your lips and finally kissing you.

It was all he had imagined and more. He already knew your lips, but this time it was different, his heart fluttered the second your his lips were on yours.

It started as a gentle kiss. You’d smile against each other, giggles escaping from both of you because you couldn’t contain your happiness. Whispering ‘I love you’s between kisses. It was a mess of a kiss, but a beautiful one.

Then your hands sneaked to the back of his neck, pulling him closer till there was no space between your bodies. You leaned back on the couch with Mat on top of you. It was slow and soft, bodies melting into each other. One of his hands stayed on your face, thumb caressing your cheek, while the other went to your waist. Your hands started roaming over his body; his neck, his shoulder, his back, his hair. He yearned for your touch.

It soon turned into an openmouthed kiss, almost sexual. It was fiery, full of passion, almost like your bodies missed each other for so long and now that they were back together you couldn’t pull away, but you also didn’t want to. At some point he turned you around, making you lay on top of him. Now his hands were the ones wandering over your body.

The kiss was long and it only ended when you had run out of breath, if not it could have gone on forever.

“I missed that.” he breathed out, unable to breath. Your forehead still gently placed against his.

“Me too.” you replied with a hoarse voice trying to catch your breath.

“I missed you.” he added, accentuating the ‘you’. You lift your head to look at him.

“I miss you too Mat.” you murmured placing a final kiss on his lips before nestling in his chest. He hummed in content, leaving one hand in your lowback and the other going to tenderly stroke your hair.

“I honestly was expecting you to try and extort me with a puppy.” you said out of the blue making him laugh, feeling his chest vibrate against your cheek with every laugh.

“Oh Tito suggested it and I thought about it, but you’re too smart, wouldn’t have fallen for it.”

“I don’t know, maybe it would have saved us all this trouble.” you joked, placing your chin on his chest to see his face.

“Excuse me?” He looked down at you with furrowed brows and an offended expression. “I just opened my heart for you and you call it ‘trouble’?” You were the one laughing now and he soon joined.

“God I missed this.” he said, pressing you impossibly closer to his body.

“I love you.” you told him once again, stretching your neck to place a kiss under his jaw. He’d never get tired of hearing those words coming from you.

“I love you too.” he replied, placing one on the top of your head.

With your heart beating against his, for the first time in months, he felt at home. That piece that had been missing was finally back, he was complet.

[jamilelucato]

Imperfect [O.W.]

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Gryffindor!reader

Summary: Y/N is always trying out for the Quidditch team, and Oliver is tired of telling her no, so he decides to change it.

A/N: I know I have some requests yet and I’ll write them, but this idea of Oliver got stuck in my mind so I had to write it and it’s so cute! Oliver is so cute!!

Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

Words: +8.200

It was a beautiful morning to play Quidditch. But then again, if you ask Oliver, he would have said any morning is good enough for Quidditch. Today, he had an extra job than just managing his team. It was tryouts day — Gryffindor needed a new chaser.

Oliver Wood was thankful when he arrived in the pitch and saw that his teammates were already there. He expected Angelina, and maybe Alicia, but he wasn’t expecting the twins to arrive in time.

“A lot of people came,” commented Alicia, to fill the silence of an early morning. The teammates were good friends, but at such hour, they weren’t used to talk a lot.

Oliver took this as an opportunity to analyze the stands and found out Alicia was right. A lot of brave Gryffindors showed up, which was a surprise. Since only one spot was available, people generally avoided coming in lots.

Angelina stepped closer to Oliver, speaking a low whisper, her tone marked with pity: “Oh, no, she’s gonna try out again.”

Oliver followed Angelina’s eye, knowing very well who Angelina was referring to and trying to find her in the middle of the Gryffindors. He found her sitting on the first roll of the stands, holding her broom tight to her chest. If this were a photograph and someone had shown it to Wood, he wouldn’t have been able to tell each year was it taken on, because, since they were second-years she used to sit there in tryouts, waiting for a chance.

Oliver sighed involuntarily. He hated feeling pity for the girl because he knew that she truly didn’t deserve it. She was a smart, pretty girl who he shouldn’t take pity. She had other things to be proud of herself, Oliver was sure of it, but then why, why did she insist on showing up for trials every single time, even when the answer never changed?

“Good luck with her,” Angelina said, staring back at her old friend. She knew about the girl because she watched most of the times that Oliver had to say no to her.

“Don’t say it like that,” Oliver reprehended Angelina, his tone a little too harsh. He usually didn’t speak so seriously unless a match was about to start so it confused Angelina.

“Oli, are you feeling sympathy for her? Because you have to remember she’s terrible. I can give her points for trying, but that will not make us win a game,” Angelina said, touching, softly, her friend’s shoulder.

“Just... start the trials,” Oliver sighed, brushing Angelina’s touch off. He couldn’t stop staring at the girl, and he was happy to find her oblivious to the stares. Oliver and Angelina weren’t the only ones who knew she was terrible and yet kept coming — Oliver was quite sure that every Gryffindor in their year knew it too.

Angelina started calling the official team to their position, and she stole the list of names Oliver was carrying in his left hand. She was about to read aloud the first name when she noticed that it belonged to the girl in the stands — y/N y/L/N. Angie sighed, deciding to start bottom to top, giving herself more time to deal with the inadequate player.

“Oli, let’s go,” Angelina called her captain’s attention when the first trial was about to start. She was deep down worried Oliver was going to do something stupid towards that girl because why couldn’t he stop staring at her?

Thankfully, when the games started, Oliver Wood was distracted with Quidditch too much to remember y/N. He loved the sport, and Angie doubted there could be anything that could mislead him from that.

By the time they were testing the seventh chaser, Oliver was confident he had found the one: a girl from fifth-year who didn’t miss one chance to score. However, there were still eight other players in the stands waiting for their turn, and Oliver couldn’t let them all go without giving them a shot. He doubted they could be better than the fifth-year girl, but it was worthy.

The matches were capable of distracting him, but always when they were over, Oliver returned to face the girl huddled in the stands, y/N. With each new student they tested, y/N seemed to shrink even more.

Oliver wondered why she did this, why she kept showing up. It couldn’t be that after almost six years of rejection, she didn’t get the message.

“She’s the only one left,” Angelina said, looking at the stands.

The whole team groaned behind the two — Fred, George and Alicia knew very well how terrible y/N was. Oliver was beginning to think Harry Potter had understood that too, even if he was still new there.

“Today’s more crowded than the other times she participated,” Angelina pondered out loud. “People will laugh at her, Oli,” she looked down at her broom, her expression a mix of compassion and worry.

They knew she was terrible, but the rest of Gryffindor didn’t need to.

“Okay, listen up,” Oliver breathed hard two times before gathering the courage to do what he was about to do. “I’ll need more time to consider my options,” the whole crowd complained, causing Oliver to turn his eyes. His hands went to his waist as he tried very hard to not look at the girl in the first roll of the stands. “But later on I’ll call you all back here, or at least the best of you, and will try again.”

“Try again?” someone shouted, clearly angry.

“Yeah, you heard me,” the crowd wasn’t the only ones complaining — Fred and George were calling Oliver nuts in his back. “In fifteen days, we’ll try this again.”

“Oliver, what are you doing?” Angelina flew closer to the captain, her face clearly showing her surprise with Wood’s decision. “Thought it was going to be Katie Bell?”

Oliver swallowed hard, sure that not only Angelina was worried, but so the whole stands. “I need more time to think,” he said, letting his eyes finally wander to y/N.

The end of his sentence made things a little easier for the crowd, who left murmuring, but thankfully none of them was saying bad things about Oliver.

The girl in the stands fought against herself, a mixture of desires — the first was to disappear; the second was to raise her hand and warn them that they had not tested her.

“Oliver, what are you doing?” Angelina asked, knowing very well what her friend was doing, but not believing it anyway. Oliver didn’t answer because he didn’t know either.

Oliver finally dared to face y/N and noticed how her mouth opened and closed without saying a thing. Still, on the broom, he flew to where she was. He was able to fly efficiently, so even when his emotions closed his eyes, he knew he was making the right way to the girl.

“Oliver Wood,” the girl murmured, gulping in surprise. “Captain,” she said again, a bit louder, and Oliver looked down at his own hands. “I hate to be the one that mentions it, but you forgot me.”

Oliver finally looked at her, suddenly locked in her beautiful eyes, lost in her mystic for a second. “I’m sorry?” he managed to say.

“You forgot to try me out,” she gulped again, and her cheeks instantly pinked up. She seemed to notice what had happened to her face because her hands let the broom fall next to her seat, and she covered her mouth with them.

“Yeah, well, new tryouts are happening in fifteen days, so... we can do it later,” he said, really not sure of what to say next. It was like he wasn’t thinking, and that would be a first for him — to be thoughtless in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.

“Why’s that though?” she questioned, raising her left brow slightly. Oliver gulped, knowing that his answer was going to embarrass her and kill him.

“Because of me?” she asked, and if Oliver believed her face was red before, it’s because he didn’t know the power she had hidden — right at that moment, she was only red.

“Yes,” Oliver sighed, knowing he had to say it once and for all. “Y/N, I know how you play. I was there in your first tryout—”

“—Yeah, I remember, we sat together. You were really nervous,” y/N interrupted, but Oliver didn’t care. He knew she did it to call his attention to another thing, something that wasn’t her game skills.

“—and since then, you haven’t got much better. You usually play with your emotions, and every time someone else scores or you don’t score, you get angry,” Oliver continued, getting off his broom and sitting next to her in the stands, placing his broom next to hers. That was when he noticed that her broom was a Firebolt, “when you get angry, your play tactics get even worse. Wait a minute — you have a Firebolt??”

Her eyes widened, while her nose wrinkled slightly. Y/N didn’t know what to say. Yes, she had a Firebolt and knew very well that it was one of the best brooms on the market, which meant it was one of the most expensive. Many professional teams didn’t have that broom yet, so someone like her, who didn’t play anything, was not expected to have it.

“Yes, it’s a Firebolt,” she played with her fingers, trying to calm herself down. There was a secret behind the broomstick, and Oliver Wood was the last person she wanted to find out. “It was a gift; it doesn’t matter.”

Oliver noticed she was trying to brush it off, so he dropped the subject. Perhaps she was the daughter of a rich pureblood he didn’t know. It didn’t matter much, she was right, but it did incentivize him, even more, to proceed with his idea.

“Anyway, what I want to say is that I have a plan,” he said, clasping his hand in the other and crossing his fingers, making his features more serious, intending to intimidate her into agreeing. Now that he knew she had a Firebolt, he couldn’t let the broom go to waste. “I want to train you.”

She gasped, and Oliver watched her expression change and go through many emotions before she finally decided to stick with denial and shame.

“Oliver, you can’t be serious, I mean, look at me,” she started loud and ended whispering. “I’m fine with the simple rejection — say you don’t want me in the team. You won’t be my first ‘no’.”

“But I don’t want it to be a no. The amount of bravery and dedication it takes you to show up year after year, hoping for a chance to get in — that’s the kinda loyalty I want in my team,” he said, avoiding looking at her to embarrass her even more. His eyes found the pitch, where Angelina watched the two with a confused expression. She and Fred were the only two left — he seemed to be talking to Angie, but she focused on Oliver and y/N. “We just need to turn you into a good player, that’s all.”

“That’s why you postponed the trials?”

Oliver didn’t answer — he didn’t want the girl to think she was too much special.

“But fifteen days isn’t enough, you of all people should know that,” she commented, pointing at him but with a delicate pout.

“You forget who will be training you,” Oliver smirked, trying his best to make it look casual as if he cast smirks at all the girls he knows. “I can turn you into a good chaser, good enough to pass the trial and then, you can train with the team.”

Pressing her lips hard on a pout, y/N shook her head from side to side. Oliver was sure she would say no to his ridiculous plan and run away. But she surprised him.

“Fine. Fifteen days of training, I suppose I can handle it,” y/N giggled nervously. “These will be the most training days I’ve ever had.”

Her lasts words surprised Oliver, who tried hard not to look so disappointed. He was going to work extra hard with y/N if he wanted her to be at least a sub on the team.

But as he watched her gather her stuff and leave with a smile, he was sure she was worth it.

***

“I can’t believe what you did,” Angelina complained as soon as Oliver sat down in the Gryffindor table to the feast.

“Which part? The part where he delayed the tryouts—” “—or the part where he picked the worst player ever to be his protégé?” George ended the question for his twin in a sarcastic tone, both of them frowning at Oliver.

Oliver rolled his eyes, diverting his attention to the food. He wasn’t ready to deal with his teammates. He knew they wouldn’t get it, and Oliver couldn’t ask them to understand because even he couldn’t.

He was enjoying the chicken when, unintentionally, his eyes left the plate and landed on the girl who sat on the other side of the table, at the far end of it, y/N y/L/N. He wasn’t sure how his senses noticed she had just arrived, but once he gazed at her, he couldn’t help but glimpse in that direction at least once in a minute.

“You still need to come to our practices, do you hear?” Angelina asked, her voice sounded like she was miles away, but she was sitting next to Oliver.

He swung his head, avoiding the obvious that was beginning to boil in his chest.

“I’ll be there, Angie,” he replied, finishing his plate.

The table gradually cleared, and thanks to Merlin, Oliver had stopped looking away in the direction of y/N.

When Fred Weasley was about to get up and leave, Oliver called for his mate, taking advantage that Angelina was no longer close.

“What is it, Wood?”

“I need your help,” Oliver said, locking his jaw and exposing his teeth.

“What do you need?” Fred sighed, crossing his arms as he faced Oliver from above.

“I reckon you know some secrets about the castle, and I need to know one of them.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, excited to discover a side of Oliver that he didn’t think existed and answered everything he could, trying to help in the best way.

***

“Get up, y/N.”

“No, mum, it’s too early,” y/N mumbled in her sleep, her eyes didn’t even open, and her mouth barely moved to speak those words.

“Get up, y/N. It’s Oliver, not your mom.”

Her eyes flew open in the dark in fright, and her hands ran to her hair as she futilely tried to control the mess.

“Oliver, what are you doing here??”

“Shh! Everyone’s still asleep,” he whispered, pulling away from her bed, giving her room to get up. “I’ll wait for you in the common room. Our training starts today, did you forget?”

She didn’t answer anything, still in the trance of having a beautiful, polite and surprisingly scented boy so early in the middle of her dorm.

“Come on, get changed,” he whispered a little louder this time since he was already at the door. He opened it and left, giving y/N a little peace for a few seconds, while she took a deep breath after the fright moment.

After wearing something comfortable but thick, because it was too early, so it was very windy, she left her room.

“How the hell did you get through the spells that block guys?” she asked before saying anything else. She was more curious than worried.

“Fred told me how,” he shrugged.

“Of course he did,” she puffed, holding her broom closer and following him out of the common room. “Just... don’t do it again, okay? You really scared me.”

Oliver held in a smile, afraid that she could misinterpret him.

“Aren’t we going to the Quidditch pitch?” she asked when they stopped in the school lawn, where the younger students took the flying classes.

“No need, not for your first lesson,” Oliver explained, opening a trunk that was already in the middle of the lawn. He probably had wakened up way earlier than y/N presumed, just to put it there.

While he opened it and decided which of the balls to take, y/N took her time to appreciate what Oliver was doing for her. They were never actually friends, so it wasn’t like he owed her anything.

“Well, for starters, do you know which one you have to focus on, as a chaser?” he asked, and she chuckled.

“Hey, Oliver, that, at least, I know,” she joked.

However, he didn’t seem to find it funny because he ignored her playful tone.

“Good, that’s good,” he got the Quaffle and started walking away from y/N. “Get on your broom.”

She did as asked, interested with what he was planning to do since he didn’t get in his broom.

“Now, I’m gonna make some ‘catch and throw’ rounds, okay? Think you can handle it?” he asked, raising a brow towards her, taking more steps away. She simply shook her head an yes.

*** They stayed outside in the lawn for two hours, and he was completely lying when he told y/N that he was going to do just some rounds of throw the Quaffle at her because that was literally all they did.

Yet, y/N got really tired of that, and she could feel her arms melting as if she had lost all her strength. She didn’t want to admit it to him, scared Oliver would think she is weaker than he thought, but even though she kept denying it, Oliver noticed that, after one hour of that exercise, her productivity wasn’t as good as in the first rounds.

“Okay, you can go shower now,” he tried to sound comical, but he was quite sure he failed. “I’ll see you again tonight, at 8 p.m., okay? At the Quidditch pitch.”

Y/N was practically many steps ahead of him, but yet she stopped and walked towards him again.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You can’t at 8? Do you prefer at 9?” he questioned, but he didn’t realize her dissatisfaction.

“Oliver, you want me to come back today? Again?”

Oh, he thought, finally realizing what she was unhappy about. He’s so used to practising Quidditch at any chance he gets that he sometimes forget other people aren’t like him, especially y/N, who isn’t even on the team.

“Don’t worry, I won’t overwork your arms again today; it’ll be a dodging Bludgers exercise,” he explained, getting up and collecting his trunk.

“Still doesn’t sound exciting to come back,” she sniffed, in a sad frown.

“Want me to invite the twins?”

“Hell, no,” she rejected immediately, very aware that, although very funny (they could manage to keep her happy at least), they were very good beaters, and she would suck at dodging their Bludgers.

“See you later, y/N,” Oliver said, walking past her, while she tried to recover herself from the fear of exhaustion.

***

She couldn’t pay attention to any of the day classes, and it was not because of her new Quidditch career ahead of her — it was because, thanks to the Quidditch career, showering took longer than expected and she missed breakfast. And paying attention with an empty stomach (and sore arms) was impossible.

Her mind, walking through the imagination land; her thoughts, starting to make no sense when a piece of paper knocked her in the neck. She unfolded it and read:

Still sore?

It was a simple phrase, and at first, she did not recognize who could have sent it. Until she remembered who sat behind her in McGonagall’s class.

She replied instantly: I’m just hungry. I lost time for breakfast.

Since she got no answers, she tried to pay attention in class once again, but it was almost over, and McGonagall soon freed they all.

“Hey, y/N,” a voice called as soon as y/N stepped out of class. She looked around and found Oliver Wood leaned in one of the pillars holding an apple in his hand. “Take it, it’ll keep you sated until lunchtime.”

She looked at his hand stretched towards her so she could take the fruit, and, for a second, she hesitated. But she decided it was best she ate something.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, but he seemed not to notice.

“We can start earlier tomorrow if you want — you won’t miss breakfast,” he suggested, walking next to her towards her next class.

“No, I rather loose breakfast,” she said, frowning a bit, letting her mind imagine herself waking up at something like 3:30h in the morning — she didn’t doubt he could suggest it.

He chuckled, fascinated with her. He then froze, chocked with himself. That would be a first, Oliver had never felt fascinated by a girl before, only Quidditch news got his fascination. What had changed? Well, maybe he just needed a time walking with people that aren’t in the Quidditch team.

After all, his only best friend was Angelina Johnson, and he only talked to her about the sport.

They walked together to their next classes, surprised to find out they also had the next period together.

***

“Good evening,” Oliver said in the dim light of the Quidditch field. Someone had installed magic lights there a couple of years ago, but they weren’t too good.

Y/N stared at Oliver, angrily. She was only provoking him — she knew what she had signed up for — but he didn’t realize it was a joke.

“Are you okay?”

“Let’s start it so I can go to bed. You woke me up way earlier than I expected today,” she said, reminding herself to laugh afterwards, already picking up the fact that Oliver didn’t have the talent to know when people are pretending to be mad.

He smiled sideways, glad that she was able to joke around him. He was much worried when this all started that y/N would keep blushing every time he said something, and y/N would be shy around him, so it was nice to see that she was getting used to him.

He decided he wasn’t gonna train her much that night, after all, it was just her first day. They didn’t have much time though, and he was afraid they’d need all the time they could get, so he knew tomorrow he would have to take extra hours with her. But he let tomorrow worries be tomorrow problems.

***

It was her ninth day of training, and y/N was about to give up. She was exhausted — she wasn’t paying attention to more than half of her classes, and her homework was pilling up. The amount of pain she was feeling in her arms that were never used to exercise was killing her. She had stopped at Madam Pomfrey to get some potions for the pain, but she was afraid that if she appeared in the Hospital Ward for the fifth day consecutive, Pomfrey would admit her in.

Y/N started seeing other things too — when her mind wasn’t wandering off. She noticed the Gryffindor team was always staring — at the feasts and in the middle of classes —, particularly Angelina.

Quidditch pitch at midnight. (Sorry I didn’t get another time. Slytherin will train until 11:30 p.m.) See you there.

She was already used to the notes Oliver Wood would pass her in the middle of classes. She was glad he was using this system instead of invading her dorm room, even though his calligraphy wasn’t the best.

They were far from midnight, but y/N was already walking around the halls a bit sleepy. She managed to get coffee when she went to her dorm — y/N had to pretend she was going to bed just like everybody else. No one could know she and Oliver were wandering around past curfew.

Her, once very new broom, was now grated, scraped and worn in places. Okay, it was still way better than Oliver’s for instance, but still, she was falling off of it many more times than she wished.

She stared at the clock on the nightstand beside her bed. It was still twenty minutes to midnight, but she didn’t care. She got up, grabbed a jumper and dressed it over a green t-shirt (which was part of her pyjamas) and her black cotton pants.

Oliver wasn’t in the common room, so she kept walking alone with her broom to the Quidditch field, avoiding finding Mr Filch.

She met some Slytherins in her way to outside — a couple of boys in Quidditch uniform, so close to each other she wondered if they were lovers instead of friends.

When she finally got there, she noticed that Oliver’s broom was tossed in the ground, only she couldn’t find him in the dusky light.

She grabbed his broom, leaving her own on the floor instead, and she analyzed it. She had so many better brooms in her house... maybe if she wrote a letter for her mom, she would send y/N’s old Swiftstick 5.0 to Hogwarts. Oliver would like it better than his old one.

Suddenly, a light was turned on, illuminating the field much better than that spell they had cast years ago. Y/N looked around, trying to find the source and noticed a boy at the other side of the field.

“Hey, y/N!” Oliver yelled before jogging to meet y/N. “Much better, huh?” he looked over to the lights.

“What did you do?”

“Asked Flitwick how he did the lighting of here those two years ago and recast the spell. He said it was about time someone did it, but since they stopped using it at night, no one noticed...” Oliver stopped talking once he noticed he might have said too much.

“Well, it’s way better. Definitely better,” y/N smiled, giving Oliver his broom and grabbing back her own.

“Then let’s start. Don’t wanna be here ‘til five in the morning,” Wood joked and was surprised when y/N also chuckled. He knew he was learning to be funny (perhaps her influence), but it was nice to see that she thought he was funny too. “Today we’ll train something more specific — flying in the rain.”

“It’s not raining,” she pointed out, scared of what was yet to come.

Oliver smiled, taking his wand from his back pocket and casting the spell. “Meteolojinx!”

Y/N didn’t even get time to hide when the water started falling over then. It rained so much on them that y/N couldn’t see anything anymore. It made sense for Oliver to want to fix the lighting in the field — without the extra light, she was sure she couldn’t even tell where Oliver was.

“What a spell,” she gasped, riding on her broom and climbing at the ideal height for Quidditch.

Oliver followed and, with some difficulty, she heard his voice: “one against one, can it be?”

She didn’t reply so he took it as a yes. He let the Quaffle out, and both played chaser and keeper because it was a one-person team.

Y/N somehow manage to score — and she knew how hard that was because Oliver was an excellent keeper. She believed he was distracted with his new position of chaser, so she took it as an opportunity. Of course, he scored too, way more than her, actually, but the point there was to make her a better chaser, not a good keeper.

When they collided with each other, the sound of the collision was so loud it almost felt like a clap of thunder. She had no idea if the fake rain could produce thunders though, and she didn’t think much about it since she was falling from her broom of such a height that would scare anyone.

Oliver was falling with her, but because of the rain, she couldn’t see him. “Oliver, are you okay?” she asked, almost sure the fault was hers.

She heard him grunt not so distant from her. When she managed to see his silhouette, she raced next to him.

“Did you break anything? How are you feeling?” she asked, placing her hand over his cheeks, making sure he wasn’t bleeding in the head.

“I’m okay. Guess I’m used to it. And you?” Oliver asked, shaking his head and passing his hands over his shirt to clean the dirty.

“I guess my broom held on to me as much as it could, so my fall wasn’t that much,” she explained, not sure if her explanation was logical but that what she was believing. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

She offered him her hand, and he took it with a firm grip. She pulled him up stronger than she presumed she could.

Oh, maybe the training is making my arms stronger, she thought in the seconds before Oliver’s body collided with hers again — this time entirely her fault.

The rain seemed to be losing its strength, falling in a weaker cascade, allowing y/N to see Oliver’s face utterly, and so the two noticed that they were very, very close.

And it happened. Without knowing who was the first to approach — perhaps both; perhaps it was solely the circumstance. In a moment, y/N pressed her lips against Oliver’s, felt his body loosen and arms touch her shoulders.

Y/N tells herself she’s not going to think about it, she’s just going to let it happen, but she’s lying — just like she has been every time Oliver touched her during training, to show her a movement or something. She’s remembering every detail of pieces of training before this one, and she is comparing it to the way he kisses her.

It’s not perfect, no. They are in the middle of rain, for Merlin’s sake, of course, it’s not perfect. And Oliver Wood, although very hot, cute, and charming, is no movie prince. He grabs her waist a bit too harsh, he pulls her closer way too slow. But it is worth it. Because they are finally learning about each other, finally seeing themselves for who they are.

Oliver’s overthinking the kiss too. He’s scared he’s doing something she’ll regret. He doesn’t kiss a lot of girls — some brave ones corner him after Quidditch matches he won and congratulate him in this felicitous way, but no other girl is like her.

No other girl Oliver has kissed before pulled him by his shirt like y/N in a desperate way as if they are gonna disappear when they leave each other. No girl’s mouth was as sweet in taste like y/N’s, no other girl could have such a perfect perfume in the middle of the rain. But y/N has. Oliver has no idea why or how, but she has.

It’s not the perfect kiss, but it feels so perfect!

And then, she pulls away. One step at the time, she walks out of their little comfort zone. For the first time, Oliver noticed, he touched her, and she’s not blushing. It makes him scared for a minute, but it suddenly goes away when he sees her gasping for words because he doesn’t want her to say something.

All those days working together most of the time, exchanging notes in the middle of classes, Oliver noticed that neither of them is good with words, so he doesn’t let her speak. It can ruin the moment. Instead, he kisses her again, softer this time. Slower. He enjoys it, remembers the way their tongs dance, the way her hand feels in his hair.

But, again, it doesn’t last much. Y/N pulls away and presses her left hand in his chest, stopping him where he is. This is it, he thinks, she’s gonna say she hated it.

But she slowly leans down, grabs what Oliver believes is her broom, and she walks away, in rushed steps, running from the Quidditch field. Running from him.

Oliver was scared she would ruin the moment by saying something, but while he gathered his Quidditch supplies scattered in the wet ground, the only thing that comes to his mind is that he wishes she had said something. Anything. And that thought hunts him.

***

Y/N waked up in time for breakfast which meant she lost the morning training. But then, last training went until 3 a.m. Oliver couldn’t possibly want her in the Training Grounds at 5 a.m.

Besides, they shared the most passionate kiss ever, so y/N was kinda sure there was no training planned for that morning.

She walked in the Hall, looking for Angelina Johnson. She never talked to that girl, but y/N never had many lady friends. When she sees her target, she grabs the girl by her arm and takes her to a corner. Angelina doesn’t even protest — she figures Oliver has done something.

She imagined the wrong thing, though.

“You want me to tell him you give up?” Angelina was smiling when she asked y/N that, causing the girl to wonder if Angelina knows about the kiss and is somehow interested in Oliver.

“Give up on...?”

“Training. Oli probably made you wake up at 2 in the morning, am I right?” Angelina kept the smile on.

Y/N tilted her head, confused. They clearly weren’t on the same page.

“In his defence, he hasn’t recovered from that training session either. Hasn’t woke up yet. Said to Fred and George to wake him only five minutes before class,” Angelina found it all very funny. Like all the times Oliver made she wake up early to QUidditch were finally getting back at the boy.

The new information held y/N back. Did he spend his dawn thinking about her? About their kiss?

“I didn’t grab you because of Quidditch. I’m still trying out,” y/N decided to clarify.

“Oh,” Angelina smile died.

“Yeah, what I want with you is that, well, you’re the only one I see Oliver talk to, even more than the twins,” y/N started, not sure of how to finish. She takes a look at her hand before continuing. “Yesterday, he kissed me. I kissed him. I don’t know who started it — we kissed, that’s it,” she managed to say, and she watched Angelina expression as it changed back to a smile, this time way brighter.

“I knew he liked you! I knew it! It had to be the reason why...” Angelina let her phrase die, she didn’t want to offend you based n your Quidditch skills. “But oh my! What now? Are you two together?”

Y/N pressed her lips together, making an embarrassing face. “Well, about that. I ran. We kissed, and I ran away,” y/N told, expecting Angelina to shout at her, but no scream came. “I was super, duper stupid, but I didn’t know what to say. I’m not good with words, you see.”

“And that git isn’t either. What a pair,” Angelina chuckled with herself, lost in thoughts. “What are you going to do now?”

“I have no idea,” y/N answered, and she stared at Angelina with big puppy eyes, trying to make the girl understand she wanted her suggestion.

“No way! I’m not gonna give an opinion. He’s my friend, but you two should work this on you own,” Angelina said, crossing her arms. “Anyway, thanks for telling me about the kiss. That’s fresh gossip.”

“Oh, no, please don’t tell anyone,” y/N asked, and out of pity, Angelina agreed. But she didn’t say anything more either and walked away when she noticed y/N had nothing more to tell.

The poor girl was left alone at the end of the Gryffindor table, and being alone with her thoughts was all y/N did not want.

***

That day, no training was scheduled. Y/N did cross paths and classes with Oliver Wood, but no notes were tossed at her, so she decided to ignore him just the same.

Oliver was sure y/N hated the kiss, and that was why she ran away, or, at least, she didn’t want to be kissed.

Y/N was sure Oliver hated her guts for abusing of his kindness of teaching her Quidditch. So she had a plan. She wrote a letter to her dad, instead of her mom as she previously planned. And she asked for a new Firebolt. The latest he could get her.

Here’s the thing about her parents: they are divorced, and she lived with her mom. Her dad is practically never around, but when he comes up with new brooms, he gifts y/N with it. Those were the only times her dad would stop by because his whole life was about Quidditch supplies.

That’s where y/N’s dream of being in the Gryffindor team was born — she wanted her dad to cheer for his daughter, at least about the only thing he liked and talked about. But she never got in the team, and he never saw her playing.

She reunited all her courage to write a letter to the heir of the Ellerby and Spudmore, but it was the only thing she could think would be enough to Oliver apologize her. And she prayed it would work.

He didn’t write back so the next day in breakfast when her owl delivered no letters, she freaked out. He wasn’t going to reply when she most needed it, of course. So typical.

She was thinking terrible things about her father when the whole Gryffindor table started gasping at two owls who flew in with a big package in their beak. When they were close enough, y/N was sure the package was a broomstick. And when they dropped it in front of Oliver Wood (sitting at the other end of the table; they were sitting very far away from each other that day) she almost screamed to the whole Hall listen.

She watched as he unwrapped the papers, and the girl sitting next to her asked if she was okay because she seemed more excited than the boy who was presented.

“I’m a huge fan of brooms, that’s it,” y/N lied, holding in her smile as she got up and left the place, scared that her father could have told the boy she was his daughter.

Y/N kept it a secret of everyone, and it was easier when she had her mom’s last name instead of her father’s.

In the letter to her father, she told him that Oliver Wood was a friend of hers that was an excellent keeper, but his broom was broken, and Gryffindor was going to lose the next match because of it. Yeah, she was very dramatic in the letter, but if she weren’t, perhaps her father wouldn‘t have given the boy the broom.

And she couldn’t tell the old man she kissed the boy and ran away.

“Hey, y/N, wait up!” a voice called her, and even before she turned, she knew to who it belonged.

Oliver stared at her, one hand he held the Firebolt, in the other, a piece of parchment y/N was sure was a letter from her father.

“I think I have to thank you for the broom,” he said, stepping closer to her.

Thankfully they were outside of the Great Hall, so there wasn’t a crowd watching their every move.

“Although, there was no need for it,” he added, shyly. He was clearly happy about getting a new broom, but he had to play the selfless.

“You sure deserved it, for training me and all. I mean, you managed to turn a nobody into an okay player of Quidditch. That’s big, especially because nobody forced you into it,” she said, trying hard to not let her cheeks pink up.

“And you never told me you were the daughter of Randolph Spudmore!” he said, smiling.

However, y/N’s smile died. She got suddenly scared, afraid. He wouldn’t look at her the same way now, and he was probably going to admit her in the team because there was a chance they’d get free brooms. Gosh, she had already given him a free broom. And now she wondered: why? For kissing her, probably out of pity, and never mentioning it again?

“Yeah, well, I don’t talk to him much,” she managed to say, trying to turn the tables, but it was already too late. He was already staring at her like the air of the Ellerby and Spudmore. There were sparks in his eyes when he looked at her now.

They stayed in silence for a moment, neither wanting to step away, but they knew they would need to.

“So, huh, will I see you in training tonight?” Oliver asked, with hope in his eyes.

“Tell me when and I’ll be there,” she said before stepping away with a fake smile and then, as soon as she was sure he couldn’t see her anymore, she ran back to her dorm.

***

Y/N came to all the training sessions Oliver scheduled, and she trained as hard as ever, never even complaining.

Never even mentioning the kiss either, but Oliver didn’t want to think about that. It was his fault after all — he pushed her to do something she didn‘t want to. He needed to be thankful y/N was able to surpass it and still play friends with him instead of casting jinxes against him and never looking at him again.

So he acted professional, he was the perfect couch when y/N was around. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done — especially when he had to touch her to teach a new move — but it better to have her around as friends than to not have her at all.

And once y/N got in the team (and Oliver was sure that even Angelina would agree to admit y/N), the two would be teammates and maybe, who knew, one day he could kiss her again. After a match or something. The boy could dream.

“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” he said before freeing her, trying to make small talk.

“I guess. Can’t be better than I am now,” y/N smiled, and for a moment, Oliver forgot how to breathe.

“Well, then good luck. See you in the field tomorrow,” he smiled too, trying to make sure y/N wouldn’t notice his heartbeat that was accelerating.

And then she walked away before he could try and say anything else.

He wanted to rush towards her, grab her by the waist and kiss her again. But he knew he shouldn’t, and that was killing him, even more than losing a Quidditch match.

***

Y/N sat in the same spot in the stand she had been sitting for all those years she tried out. But something was different.

For instance, she now had this huge, ridiculous and platonic crush on the team captain.

She was also way better in Quidditch now than she was on the other times she tried out.

And, to make matters nervously worse, her father was there.

Yes, mister Randolph Spudmore was sitting next to his teenage daughter y/N y/L/N in the stands of the Quidditch field of Hogwarts. All eyes were on them, but somehow that was the last of y/N’s concerns.

After the letter she wrote thanking her father for he broom, he kept writing her back. He showed interest in her academic life. Asked about grades. Asked if Dumbledore was still a crazy chap.

He didn’t mention Quidditch in a whole letter of two pages — that was definitely a record!

He did ask about the boy he gave the broom to, and he asked again in person when he arrived this morning.

She decided to go with the truth. Her father wasn’t stupid, he would have noticed the way y/N was going to look at Oliver once they were in the same place.

“Tell me about the boy,” the father request. “I gotta know who’s friends with my daughter after all.”

“Well, honestly, he’s much like you. All he talks about is Quidditch. I bet he knows the name of every player in all the professional teams. And I bet he framed your letter.”

Her father burst into laughter, making all the students stare at him once again.

“But he’s such a good player, dad, like better than the professionals, you know? Looking at him, you know he was born for the sport,” she added.

Her father stared at the boy who was testing another student at that moment, and he was sure his daughter was right. But he knew there was more to the boy. Yes, when he saw Randolph in the stands, and he freaked. But the reason he kept looking in their direction in the middle of the trials — and y/N’s father was sure of it — wasn’t just because of the broom maker.

It was because he was captured by Randolph’s little girl.

“And he likes you,” Randolph said, catching his daughter by surprise.

“What? Oh no. I mean, we kissed, I told you that. But we’re over that. It was probably hormones,” y/N shrugged.

“Probably,” her father pretended to agree.

“He never mentioned it again, dad, so I know what I’m saying.”

“Hey, I didn’t disagree,” her father smiled, knowing his daughter had spilt the beans without him asking. “Look, honey,” he laughed his excitement off before continuing, “if you say he’s so much like me, have you thought about the possibility that he doesn’t know what to say? How long it took me to reach out to you?”

Y/N stayed quiet, not sure of what her father wanted.

“He speaks Quidditch. You told me that yourself. So maybe, he doesn’t know how to talk to you,” her father continued.

“Well, dad, maybe I don’t know how to talk to him either,” y/N protested. She didn’t want to be the one reach out.

“Then don’t,” he smiled. “But not in front of me, okay?” he laughed out loud again, so entertained with the teen drama, he wondered why it took him so long to reach out.

“y/N y/L/N, you’re next,” shouted Angelina from up her broom.

Her father wished her good luck, and she disappeared in the air. Angelina flew to y/N and explained what she needed to perform to be tested. It was simple really: score once in the five minutes limit.

Only problem: Oliver Wood was the keeper.

She sighed, almost laughing at how destiny was low. But y/N and Oliver weren’t enemies, they were friends. Well, both were hiding their feelings for each other, but still, friends.

Many tries. She got the Quaffle all the times the other chasers tossed it to her, but Oliver always managed to stop it before it scored.

“One minute left,” Angelina informed, before starting all over again with the run to catch the Quaffle.

And then, Alicia tossed it to y/N, Fred sent a Bludger in her direction — y/N ducked, lowering just a bit her broom and she scored. She actually scored!

The only person in the stands shouting was her father, but it seemed as everybody was celebrating.

She got to the ground, unable to stay in her broom any longer. Yeah, she scored — it didn’t mean she was in. Other students had scored too. But it didn’t matter — she had never scored before.

Fred and George flew around her, making faces showing how impressed they were. Angelina got out of her broom just to congratulate her.

Nobody believed that the girl in the corner had scored finally, after so many years and tryouts.

She wasn’t looking in the direction of the goal arcs, so she didn’t see when Oliver got down from his new Firebolt and started walking towards her.

“Y/N,” he had only called for her, but it was enough for her to hurry up and wrap her arms around his torso, swallowing him in a tight hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered over and over in Oliver’s ear. “I don’t care if your team doesn’t choose me. I am happy to just know that I am capable of it.”

Oliver didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged her even tighter and tighter.

“I wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for you,” she said, slowly letting go of him.

“Of course you would,” he disagreed, smiling as he delighted in the sight of her beautiful reddish face. Oh, how he missed seeing her cheeks flush!

The silence settled again, that awful moment when they both didn’t know what to say, but wanted to say so much ...

“You know what? I need to score a point again,” she said, grabbing his wrist before taking a step closer.

“Score again? What do you mean by that?”

“I already beat the keeper. Now I need to win him,” she smiled, finally taking their space and kissing him in that perfectly imperfect way that only the two could masterfully reproduce.

She had a lot of things to still figure out. She needed to keep in touch with her father, for instance. She needed to have a serious conversation with the keeper she was kissing at the moment about what they were, and y/N needed to find out if she got in the team or not.

But with Oliver Wood curled up in her arms, kissing her and teasing her with bites on her lower lip and an audience cheering them on, none of those things mattered. She knew he was a keeper and she was never letting him go.

[mkkhaikyuu]

Autumn Skies: Chapter 2

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Autumn Skies - Chapter 2

The Beginning (Part 2)

Warnings: some swearing, anime and manga spoilers, possible nsfw 

Genre: angst, fluff, romance and comedy, smau

Word count: 2.9k words

•°O°• Flashback continues •°O°• 

The days grew shorter as November started to roll in around the corner. Leaves of scarlet and gold fluttered to the school grounds and made crunching sounds beneath your feet as you ran off towards the gym. You should have already been at practice about an hour ago, but the meeting you had with the school’s guidance counselor went on longer than you had expected.

The entrance to the gym comes into view, and you paused right outside, bent forward and clutching at your knees, panting. As soon as you managed to calm the racing of your heart and get some air back into your lungs, you walked in. The team momentarily paused their drills to look over and shout greetings to you to which you merely responded with a nod.

You have never been late to practice before so this rare occurrence had some of the boys wondering what held you up. After all, as the manager, you always made it a point to set the best example for the team. You didn’t even have the time to change into your gym clothes. You apologized profusely to coach Nekomata, knowing how crucial these practice sessions were going to be for the upcoming tournament. Fortunately, he let you off the hook easily, or so you thought.

Over the past several weeks, the team has been really busy preparing for Tokyo’s Spring Interhigh Qualifiers which would take place in mid-November, and most of your weekends since then ended up being spent at the school gym. The boys were determined to snatch the chance to play at the national tournament in January next year and so, practice sessions have been longer and more grueling than usual. You and Kuroo haven’t had a proper conversation in a while – what with the both of you being so busy with things besides preparations for the tournament. He devoted his free time to Hana, while you… you had bigger things to do.

You halfheartedly watched as the team went over their drills. You deliberately tried not to look in Kuroo’s direction unless you had to. He was supervising the team’s training a little ways away to the side, occasionally yelling at Lev to get his blocking right.

Your thoughts went back to the conversation you had with the guidance counselor earlier and sighed wearily.  You decided to distract yourself with your own work instead, finalizing some things you needed to get done for the tournament. It seemed to have worked for a little bit, at least.

“Alright, let’s call it a day!” Kuroo suddenly called out, clapping his hands together to get the team’s attention. You check the time and was surprised to see that it was almost 8 pm.

You all gathered around coach Nekomata as he remarks on the team’s performance and gave reminders for tomorrow’s practice. Your thoughts, however, were somewhere else, drowning out the coach’s voice. You don’t notice when he suddenly turns to look at you and asks “Y/n, is the paperwork for the tournament done?”

A few seconds passed, your mind processing his words as you look back at him blankly. Finally coming back to yourself, you blinked and answered, “Oh! Not yet, but I should be able to hand over the last bit of requirements to the coordinators tomorrow.” The old coach hummed and bobbed his head in satisfaction.

“Good to know. But the deadline is still two weeks away, so there’s no need for you to rush,” he smiled softly at you, something you noted was very uncharacteristic of him. “Is that why you were late today?”

The boys eye you curiously and you feel yourself shrink from all the unwanted attention. “W-well, no but –” you spluttered, then stopped to bow instead.

“I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Now you’ve done it – earning the coach’s ire. You cursed under your breath, expecting to receive a good scolding from the coach for the first time – and in front of the whole team, no less. Your thoughts came to a halt, and you stood back up when you heard him hum instead.

“No need to apologize, y/n,” he said. “We appreciate the things you do for the team but don’t overwork yourself. If you need time for yourself, you can say so.” 

Without missing a beat, he then proceeded to dismiss the team.

The boys had begun to disperse around you but your feet kept you glued to your spot. What was the coach trying to say? Were you too obvious? You don’t remember making any mistakes while on your duties except for your tardiness earlier. Were you not acting like yourself and was it affecting your performance?

“Hey, y/n.”

You looked over to see Kuroo approaching, your walls going up on instinct. He had taken your bag from the bench and you held out your hand to take the bag from him, muttering “Thanks,” under your breath, refusing to meet his eyes. Kenma soon appeared behind him.

“You hungry? We’re all going out to grab dinner. You should come with us,” he said, thumb pointing to the gym doors.

“Oh. I think I’ll pass,” you answered, a forced smile making its way to your face. Kuroo frowned.

“What? Come on, it’s already way past dinnertime and it’s dangerous for you to be walking home by yourself. Just come with us.”

Outside, the rest of the team had already gathered and were calling out to the three of you. Suddenly, Kuroo’s lips curved into a smirk, and before you realize what he’s doing, he had already taken your bag back from you and swung it on his shoulder. You tried to protest but he only laughed at you.

“Let’s go,” he finally said as he started walking out of the gym. 

You feel your heart flutter in your chest, warmth creeping into your face and the back of your neck, as the corners of your mouth threatened to erupt into a dopey smile – the complete opposite of the jumble of thoughts that have found its way into your head. Kenma’s face scrunched slightly in concern as he looks at you staring at Kuroo’s retreating form.

“If you want, we can go home now,” Kenma offered quietly beside you. You shake your head, mentally cursing yourself for the moment of weakness.

“He has my bag,” you told him resignedly.

You watched as a soft frown graced Kenma’s face under the dim light. Those who didn’t know him wouldn’t notice all the subtle shifts in his expressions, but you knew him well enough to know that under that layer of indifference, he was deeply concerned for his friends. You feel a little sorry for him, being caught in between and having to deal with you and your feelings for his other best friend.

“Thanks, Kenma, but I’ll be fine. Now, come on,” you gave the setter a reassuring smile and pulled him along.

•°O°•

You sat on the train, leaning your head back against the cool glass with your eyes closed. Your calm external demeanor was a far cry from the turmoil that was going on in your head. In your head, you had already body slammed yourself twenty times for your own stupidity – for reading the signs wrong and causing your own heartbreak.

Kuroo and Kenma sat across from you, talking about the game Kenma was playing. You ignored them.

Dinner with the team at a nearby yakiniku restaurant didn’t go so bad. The boys were too hungry, mouths too full to hold a proper conversation – except for Kenma whose appetite was as small as ever. You could tell the poor setter wanted to run away when Kuroo won’t stop shoving food his way, telling him he needed to eat more. You hadn’t felt like eating either, taking it upon yourself to grill the meat instead, and putting the cooked ones onto the boys’ plates. Kuroo had noticed and called you out on it, asking you why you weren’t eating, and without even waiting for an answer, he started filling up your plate with a variety of the food that was served. Time slowed down in that moment as the realization hit you.

With a sense of urgency, you thought back on all the moments you’ve had with Kuroo – the ones that had made you fall for him – sifting through your memory as if your life depended on it, and realized that you had inevitably led yourself on. You thought he did things like that because he liked you. Had all those actions just been out of pure concern for a friend? Seriously, was he just being kind? A memory flashed through your mind, one from the last training camp. The tall, blonde first year with the glasses from Karasuno had asked Kuroo why he was giving them blocking advice, knowing they were rival teams. Kuroo’s words rang loud and clear in your mind.

“I’ve always been this kind,” he had said.

OH.

You were a fool for deciding to put meaning behind his innocent actions – seeing feelings that weren’t actually there. You set yourself up for false hope and you had no one to blame but yourself. But then why did it seem like he was flirting with you every chance he could get? And when you flirted back, why did he seem to enjoy it? You weren’t a stranger to his teasing and provocative nature, but you were sure the two of you had already gone beyond friendly territory. Unless…you read the signs wrong and jumped to conclusions again?  

“By the way, Y/n, why were you late to practice?”

You opened your eyes, slightly annoyed at being interrupted from your thoughts and by the person you’re moping about no less.

“There was just something I needed to do, is all,” you muttered, eyes closing again.

“What was it?”

“Nothing important.”

“Then why were you late if it wasn’t important?”

“Can you stop?” you snapped, tone coming out harsher than you had intended. This time, you sat up straight, arms crossed over your chest, glaring at him. Why was he asking so many questions? Why does he even care?

He looked genuinely stunned, like he hadn’t expected you to react like that. You froze, limbs going slack as you looked back at him with an expression that was just as shocked. Your mind finally caught up to your words, but it was too late to take them back.

Warily, Kuroo asked, “Are you okay, y/n?”

Fuck.

His tone was so gentle, eyes so sincere, that you automatically found yourself cursing under your breath, drowning in guilt.

“I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on in my mind right now and – I really didn’t mean to snap at you like that!” you spluttered.

Kenma stays quiet, pretending to focus on his game and pressing buttons randomly. In truth, he had actually paused his game in case the situation escalated, and he had to intervene, not wanting to lose his progress.

Kuroo opened his mouth to say something but stopped to fish out his phone that was vibrating in his pocket, then raised it to his ear.

“Hana?” he spoke in a quiet voice, mindful not to disturb others even though there were barely any passengers besides the three of you.

“I’m on the train with y/n and Kenma.”

“Yeah, babe. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Love you too, bye.”

By the time Kuroo turned his attention back to you, you had already arrived at your stop. The three of you got off and walked to your respective homes as the weight of the unfinished conversation you had with Kuroo hung heavily in the air.

•°O°•Fast forward•°O°•

You rolled your shoulders and stretched, sighing as the tension dissipated from your aching body. The tournament would take place tomorrow and you’d just finished baking a cake for Kuroo’s birthday. That’s right, the tournament was happening on the same day as his birthday. You could have easily bought a cake from the bakeshop but you decided you wanted it to be more special for him – and you also hoped it would double as a peace offering for that one time you snapped at him even though you had apologized for it already.  

Now that you’ve finished putting the kitchen back in order, it was time to settle down for the night. You sneaked under the covers of your bed and fell asleep.

•°O°•

That morning, Nekoma lost to Fukurodani. Your team had almost won but Bokuto’s strength managed to overwhelm your defense, and Fukurodani ended up taking both sets.

Tokyo was a big city so there would normally be two teams representing it at the nationals. However, since Tokyo will be the host in next year’s Spring High National Tournament, a third slot was available to represent the city. The first two slots were already claimed by Itachiyama and Fukurodani. Now you can only hope that your team could claim the last one. They had one last game later in the afternoon against Nohebi.

Coming back from the washroom after having lunch, you meet familiar faces in the hallway.

“Hey, hey, hey! If it isn’t Nekoma’s manager!”

Bokuto ran up to you, lifting you up and spinning you around. You laughed at his antics, his boisterous energy effectively dissolving the nerves that were just threatening to swallow you up. After he gently set you down, you said hi to Akaashi, congratulating them for winning the game that morning. In the middle of your catching up with each other, something caught Bokuto’s attention and you watched as he called out to Kuroo and Hana passing by.

“Hey! Kuroo, bro! You’d better win against Nohebi later!” he laughed.

The couple went over to you, hand in hand.

“Ooh! Who is she? Your girlfriend?” Bokuto asks.

“Yeah, this is Hana.” Kuroo introduced Hana and your two friends from Fukurodani to each other.

“Oh, nice to meet you, Hana!” Bokuto said, before going back to Kuroo.

“But I thought y/n was your girlfriend,” Bokuto said with a laugh, “guess I was wrong!”

Akaashi frowned at that, making a mental note to hit Bokuto’s head later. Meanwhile, Kuroo laughed like a hyena and you forced a laugh yourself, avoiding Hana’s eyes.

“We’re just friends, Bokuto. I don’t know what gave you the impression that we were together,” Kuroo said. You nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, we’re just friends,” you confirmed.

“But I swear you two look and act like a couple someti-“ Akaashi cut off what Bokuto was about to say, as he swiftly came up with an excuse to leave.

Dragging Bokuto away from the scene, Akaashi yelled, “Good luck on your game later! Let’s see each other at the nationals!”

“But Akaashiii! OH, this means I’m free to ask y/n out!” was the last thing you heard Bokuto say before the two turned the corner and disappeared from view.

“So, anyway, I have to go see coach,” you managed to say before you too scurried away from the scene, not wanting to deal with the tension that had developed.

•°O°•

Later that afternoon, Nekoma manages to win against Nohebi. It was a close fight – Nohebi being a cunning team that had dirty tricks up their sleeves – but your first years exceeded your expectations as they proved themselves on the court.

Legs shaking, you rose from the bench, processing the fact that your team won. You did it. You guys were heading to nationals. Everything slowed down around you. You wanted to run to someone – to Kuroo. You wanted to jump into his arms, pull his body to yours and whisper sweet praises into his ears. But you could only watch as Hana and Kuroo ran up to each other, locking themselves in a tight embrace before their lips come together for a kiss.

A bitter smile pulls at your lips, and you turned away from the scene, having seen enough of it to haunt your memory for the days to come. You willed yourself to breathe through the tears that were starting to blur your vision and the tightness that was coiling at your throat. Making sure no one was watching, you discreetly wiped the tears away before they fell down your cheeks.

While waiting for the awarding ceremony, you went out to the gym entrance to meet your friend, Amari. She lived in an apartment nearby so you had asked her if she could keep the cake you baked fresh until after the team was done playing. You baked an extra cake for her, too.

After the ceremony, you were supposed to go out with the team for dinner to celebrate – the coaches’ treat. But you weren’t sure you’d be able to sit through dinner with Kuroo and Hana after what you saw earlier. So as the team was heading off to the bus, you told coach Nekomata that you weren’t coming because you needed to go somewhere.

“Where do you need to go? We could drop you off if it’s along the way,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to. I can just walk there, but thanks, coach.”

“Hmm. Alright. Take care of yourself, y/n.”

“Y/n, you’re not coming?” Kuroo had gotten off the bus, “but it’s my birthday and we won!”

He playfully pouted at you so you pinched his side.

“Like I’d forget?” you pulled out the box of cake from the paper bag you hid it in. ”Here, take this. I baked this for you. Happy birthday, Kuroo!”

You smiled up at him before turning to wave to the other boys inside the bus who were protesting your departure. You didn’t wait to see or listen to Kuroo’s reaction.

“Kuroo! Don’t let her leave!” you heard Yamamoto and Lev cry out, pressing their faces against the window. You started walking away, shaking your head at how loud the boys were screaming your name and begging you to join the team dinner.

Previous | Chapter 2 | Next | Masterlist

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💖taglist: @elianetsantana @literaleftist  @yeehawslap @starry-magicshop @atsunflower @saturnfarie @sakurahoshizora @kellyyween @donica95 @kyomihann​

a/n: This chapter was really hard to write because of how I set up chapter 1 lol. I’m not too happy with it but I hope it turned out okay. The next chapters will finally be set in the present so it probably won’t be as lengthy as this. And some things you might be confused by will be explained in the next chapters.

Disclaimer: Kuroo Tetsurou, Haikyu!! and other Haikyu!! characters belong to Haruichi Furudate.

[vegalocity]

Starrosefics, asking for 23/42 for Spicynoodleshipping and 72 for Mabifica, please? (All are from the 76 Kisses.)

Prompt meme || @starfics

Shorter Mabifica because longer spicynoodles Both under cut because i respect your dashboards

72. When One Person’s Face Is Scrunched Up, And The Other One Kisses Their Lips/Nose/Forehead 

The epic highs and lows of competeitive gaming

--

“WHAT?! OH COME ON!”

“Oh wow I won? Interesting. I thought you were the Gravity Falls Smash bros champ!”

“Rrrrrr Best two out of three!”

-

“NONONONONONOOOOOOOO”

“Oh! Win to Northwest again! Do you maybe want to switch characters? I know the princess is an intimdating foe. I can play the little pink blob if you'd like.”

“Don't mock me Paz.”

-

“OKAY HOW DO YOU KEEP BEATING ME?! YOU DON'T PLAY SMASH!”

“Maybe you're losing your touch.”

“RAAAAGGGHHH”

-

“....You've been training with Dipper in those discord calls you guys don't let me crash so I don't 'derail the conversation with lovey dovey talk' haven't you?”

“He plays different than you, but if you've beaten Mario you can beat Princes Peach.”

Mabel moaned in agony, sliding down in her seat until the majority of her legs were hanging off the couch and her head was the only thing on the backrest. “You hustled me! You hustled me just to humiliate me. And Dipper helped you! I am betrayed, I am bereft. None shall get past my stone wall again. I'll never love another again.”

Pacifica began to laugh because really, how could she not? Mabel treating a video game like a deeply important telenovela event that had things riding on it beyond pride was too good.

“Oh come on, I've been practicing basically since last summer, if anything it shows how good you are!” Mabel scrunched her face up into a pout. And Pacifica laughed again.

She watched Mabel's out wobble, no doubt she wanted  to find the humor in this too, but wasn't done pouting yet. So Pacifica leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. She finally smiled back up at her.

“I guess I'll see you in the next Gravity Falls Tourney in a couple of weeks huh? May the best player win.”

“Oh, I will.”

Mabel squawked in outrage.

--

23. Exhausted Parents kiss // 42. Sated Kiss  

I still don’t have a name for this kid so you’re just gonna have to bear with me (Content warning for more internalized abelism)

--

It wasn't exactly a secret that Red Son was a doting father, if he were the type to carry one of those 'picture laminate' wallets he'd have filled it to the brim with pictures of their little girl from age six hours to current day and would take them out to gush about her regularly, possibly even to their enemies. But thankfully he kept all of THOSE on his phone and that would inevitably save their baby girl some grief when she grew up a little more and entered her teens.

Honestly, it was literally one of the best things about him because Xiaotian could NOT get enough of watching how his husband—whom had entered his life shreiking with fury and intent on nothing but destruction and his own untimely death—would happily sing along to the cartoon opening theme songs with their little rascal or blow raspberries into her belly as she squealed with laughter.

Neither of them really got stuff like that in their childhoods, so it was rather important to both of them that that sweet little bundle of energy and crayons got as much affection as they could possibly give her without smothering her with it entirely.

There were some hiccups of course, how could there not be? She couldn't stand anyone touching her from her shoulders up, so her hair was oftentimes messy as she could only sit through one hairbrushing in the morning and one at night. Though her arms were too short to be able to brush her own hair yet she kept asking.

She'd only recently started speaking actually, apparently she'd decided she didn't want to talk until she could spew out full sentences, which was certainly something when it happened. Heavens knew when she was three and hadn't spoken a word, everyone had been trying to coax her to talk. Usually just trying to prompt simple words, but everyone had been taken aback when Tang was slowly pronouncing the name of the hero of the story he was telling her, and she responded with her first word “Why” followed quickly with “-are you talking so slow?”

Most problematic was that she had very sensitive hearing. Which could be a problem not only in this city, but also in this household, granted Red Son could go from talking at a normal volume to borderline shouting without being aware of the volume shift at all, and he was always extremely distressed when he thought everything was normal, didn't see Xiaotian trying to catch his eye to tell him to tone down, and get blindsided by his darling baby cry out and clap her hands over her ears and curl up as though she were in physical pain. Xiaotian ended up taking a pair of headphones that had gone dead in an ear, yanking out the wire and adjusting them to her little head. It didn't get rid of the days where their baby would curl up in the far corner of her bedroom, hands clasped over her ears because everything was too loud for her, and those days were always guaranteed to end with Red Son spiraling into the idea that he was a terrible father and wasn't meant to take care of people, but they were less frequent.

And then there came today. Red Son was sitting in the chair he favored most, scribbling into a notebook about some project or another, and their daughter was sitting on the floor, happily coloring one of the characters in a cartoon she loved. And as she concentrated on the crayon drawing, she began to rock back and forth. It was adorable, and Xiaotian didn't want to interrupt his two favorite people while they were both in the zone by announcing dinner time—though Dinner was ready—so he was planning on just lingering in the doorway for a few moments longer. But Something about it had caught Red Son's eye.

“Sweetie? What are you doing?”  

She yelped and stopped, both drawing and rocking.

“Nothin' just drawin'.”

“I see that, You were also rocking in place, did you know that?” She seemed to shrink and Xiaotian probably should have cut in now, but something held him back. Let it play out.

“s'okay I'm just weird.” She didn't see Red Son flinch, but he did.

“Who... who told you something like that?”

“They say it on Alice's Adventures. Weird is when you do something that other people don't do and it makes you stick out. Right? And I never seen nobody do it. So I'm weird.”

Red Son took a moment, long enough for their daughter to turn back to her drawing, and stood up from  the chair, striding over to sit across from her on the floor, notebook propped up on the coffee table. And as she started to rock in place again, he joined her.

Xiaotian almost wanted to cry.

He gave them a couple more moments. “Okay gremlins, dinner's ready!”

Thier daughter leaped to her feet and made a small happy squeaky noise as she raced to the dining table. “Dinner! Dinner! Dinner!”

Red Son was slower to join, realization hitting him and reflexively he began to fluster. “How much of that did you see?”

Xiaotian met him halfway across the room and tried not to look too giddy. “Enough that you are getting so laid tonight once she's in bed.” for now he settled for a quick kiss. “But only if you stop calling yourself weird and acknowledge the real word for it so that shit doesn't rub off before we can get her tested.”

“Fine.” Red Son looked away, gaze now fixated on the little girl already happily rocking back and forth at her space at the dinner table. “She's probably Autistic and she probably got it from me.”

“Which means...?”

“Don't push it Noodle Boy.”

Red Son stopped rocking only when he was alone, and it was great to see, the stim was doing more to reign in his temper than even Xiaotian had thought, and of course, it was an unequivocal delight to watch him and their baby side by side sitting on the floor, either of their projects laid out on the coffee table, and rocking back and forth in rhythm with eachother.

--

Send me stuff!

[blushie14]

Scaredy Cats [Skephalo]

So, this will be interesting, heh. The two are gonna watch a horror film in this one. I basically summarized/created the "horror film" in this story -w-. Heads up, there will be small mentions of gore during the "film." I swear after that it's not that bad. o-o (Or is it? I honestly don't know. Enjoy :P)

"...No."

"Aw, come on!" Zak whined.

"No! I'm not doing this! I refuse!"

The two of them have been bickering about this for more than a few minutes now. It all started when Darryl visited Zak for today. It was a long, but fun day.

They did a lot of random things together. They played a few games, including a bit of Minecraft. They challenged each other to do dumb things, even placing bets. They also decided to cook something together, which started off serious until... let's just say that a lot of food has been wasted today.

Time flew by, and the both of them didn't realize it was already dark out. Zak really enjoyed the other's company and didn't want him to leave. In fact, he asked him if he wanted to stay and have a movie night.

Now, Darryl definitely has no problem with watching a movie with Zak. He also had no problem with staying over (Zak kept insisting). The real problem was that Zak chose a horror film. A horror film!

"But Darryllllll!" Zak continued to protest.

"No buts!" Darryl started to whine. "You know how much I hate scary things!"

"Oh come on!" Zak put on a frown, starting to fake cry. "Do you not wanna watch a movie with me?"

Zak of course got him wrapped around his finger. Darryl stuttered and tried to reason with him. "I- No! Look I-I want to watch a movie with you! Can you please pick something else?"

"But.. I wanna watch this one.." Zak held the movie case with the creepy looking cover in front of him, looking at Darryl with pleading eyes. A few seconds of silence passed before Darryl gave in.

"Okay, we can watch this one." Zak perked up and started to prepare everything while Darryl was already feeling uncertain about this. "Do you promise that this movie isn't that horrifying?"

Zak raised an eyebrow as he started to microwave some popcorn. "Hmm, I don't know. I haven't watched it yet."

"You what?!" Darryl's eyes widened. His uncertainty was starting to turn into full on regret. He sat on the couch putting his hands on his face, and groaned.

"Oh my goodness, this is such a bad idea.." He heard low rumbling thunder outside and let out wince. "Did we have to watch this during a dark and stormy night?!"

Zak put the popcorn and some other snacks on the table. "Yes! This makes it so much better!"

"That doesn't make it better! This makes it even worse!"

"Darryl, it's not even raining that hard yet. Come on, I bet that the movie isn't going to be that scary! This is gonna be so much fun!" He smiled as he finished setting everything up, and sat next to Darryl. "Now do you wanna watch the movie or not?"

Darryl pouted, being a little indecisive. He wouldn't want to, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad watching it with Zak. It might be a little fun.. He sighed. "Fine... but we're keeping the lights on!"

Zak giggled at him. "You're no fun."

Darryl immediately got defensive. "Hey! I'm just saying that.. that much darkness isn't.. healthy."

"Okay, how about this? I turn off the living room lights, but I'll get one small lamp so that we won't be completely surrounded in darkness."

He paused a moment before sighing again. He nodded. "I guess that's good enough."

-

As it was lightly starting to drizzle outside, the two boys got themselves comfortable. There was a small desk lamp set up on the floor, dimly lighting up the living room. The movie started, opening with eerie yet depressing piano music.

The overall mood of it all started off as depressing. As the title sequence started, a single car was driving down a long road. While listing the cast and production members, a family is seen in the car. The family consists of a single father and two teenage daughters. None of them were smiling.

Zak glanced at Darryl for a moment and then completely turned to look at him and groaned. "Dude, seriously?! Stop trying to hide!"

Darryl had his face planted on a small pillow from the couch. He didn't budge as his muffled voice spoke up. "You didn't say I couldn't hide my face."

"The movie hasn't even-!" He stopped, facepalming in disbelief. "Don't hurt my brain! We've literally just started! When has something scary ever happened right at the start?!"

Darryl looked up, slightly embarrassed as his voice got a tad higher in response. "I- I don't know! You never know, okay?!" He squishes the pillow tighter, nervous laughter pouring out. "I don't like this at all Zak."

Zak lightly giggled and scooted closer to him. "Come on, we got this. We are not gonna be scared because of some stupid movie, okay? We are ducks, not chickens."

Darryl couldn't help but smile a tiny bit, becoming a little more relaxed. "You're the duck, you muffin top."

- .

It turns out the story started off a bit more melancholic as the two of them expected. The family moved into a new house because of their mother mysteriously disappearing. The father wasn't able to support the family and the house on his own.

Admittedly, Darryl did get drawn into the lore. The two sisters were comforting each other, obviously distraught over their situation and were nearly convinced that their mother was dead. They were looking for ways to either find her, or communicate with her.

Darryl was distracted when they took out many creepy looking books to help them, which gave Zak the opportunity to scare him. He slowly and quietly leaned into Darryl's ear, and blew.

"WHAT THE MUFFIN!?" Darryl screamed and spazzed out as the sudden gust of air sent tingles down his spine. He looked at Zak laughing his head off. Fear quickly turned into anger.

"YOU LITTLE-" He let out incoherent noises, lightly slapping Zak's arm a tiny bit. "DON'T. DO THAT!"

Zak took deep breaths as he calmed down from his laughter, still giggling a bit. "I'm sorry! I'm so so so sorry!"

Darryl pouted in order to keep a smile from creeping up to his face. He huffed and turned to look at the screen, crossing his arms. "No! That wasn't funny!"

Zak snickered as he hugged Darryl's arm. "It was kind of funny!" Darryl felt his cheeks heat up as a small smile eventually appeared on his face. He couldn't stay mad at him for long.

- . .

Things were now starting to get eerie. After the girls performed a ritual they found in one of their books in hopes to bring their mother back, they went to bed and woke up to find that their mother came back.

The two girls and their father were so happy that she came back, but the two boys who were watching felt that something wasn't right. She was overjoyed when she greeted them, but acted like she wasn't even gone for a couple months.

In fact, she was aggressively dismissive about it. It was unsettling to say the least. "All that matters is that I'm here now... right?" The father was really worried about this, but the two daughters figured that their mother's behavior was a side effect from the ritual they performed.

A little later in the movie, one of the sisters began to hear a strange voice. It was coming from her mother's door. Whatever that voice was, it was very deep, menacing, and didn't sound like it belonged to a person. Suspenseful music started to play as the girl slowly reached for the door knob as the voice became louder.

Darryl felt Zak shrink into his seat as both of them were practically preparing for a jump scare. Zak groaned. "You think that if anyone heard noises like that they would just run out of the house, right!?"

The door opened and the music stopped as the girl sees nothing. Zak stared intensely at the screen, and Darryl took the opportunity to spook him back. His hands quickly touched his shoulder and let out a small scream.

"jESUS Christ!" Zak jumped, and put a hand to his face before laughing a little. "You're not funny, Darryl!" Darryl only let out squeaky giggles in response, both of them looking back at the screen.

The timing couldn't get any better as a disfigured looking face resembling her mother popped up in front of her, letting out an ear piercing shriek.

Darryl let out a startled shriek, suddenly clinging onto to the smaller boy. Zak did the same, wrapping his arms around Darryl as he screamed as well. The girl sat up from her bed and screamed until she realized that it was a nightmare.

"OH MY GOD!" Zak shrieked out, letting go of Darryl. "WHAT WAS THAT? WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!" Darryl still had his arms around Zak, and wrapped him into a closer hug. He sat in silence for a moment until his quivering voice spoke up

"Oh my goodness. I'm just gonna... keep you like this for a while, o-okay?" Zak felt a warm blush appearing on his face and smiled, saying a soft "okay.." He hugged his scared muffin in return, both of them feeling a little calmer.

- . . .

Zak was on the edge of his seat while Darryl was wrapped like a burrito in blankets. They were near the end as everything was going horrifically wrong. The two sisters were desperately trying to escape the house as they figured out that their mother was a demon in disguise.

"YOU IDIOT DON'T JUST STAND THERE! RUN!" Zak shouted, as one of the girls started to cry in front of the twisted looking version of her mom. The movie switched into the girl's perspective. She was looking at the creature's hand, holding her father's decapitated head.

The tall demon screeched as she quickly scurried towards the girl, bones crunching with every movement she made. Her long neck twisted around as she gave a sinister grin and kept crawling. "HOLY SHIT!" Zak shrieked out as Darryl stares in horror, too terrified to call out on the other's language.

The movie switched into third person again as the demon's long and sharp fingers grabbed onto the girl's face, dangerously close to her eyes. Darryl quickly pulled the blankets over his face. He couldn't look.

He didn't dare look up as he heard the girl's bloodcurdling scream along with a sickening crunch, with a squelch. Zak on the other hand, was so shocked that couldn't take his eyes off the screen. He didn't say a word as he hugged Darryl, reminding them both that this wasn't real.

- . . . =

The movie ended with one of the girls escaping, and the credits rolled. "Oh my goodness.. it's finally over." Darryl let out a sigh of relief while Zak nervously laughed to lighten up the mood. "This movie wasn't ...that bad."

Darryl poked his head out of the covers and pouted. "What no! This movie was awful, I hated it. Never again!"

Zak giggled in response. "But it was a good horror movie!"

"Yes, and that's why I hated it! It was so scary.."

"It wasn't THAT scary."

"Yeah right! It was so scary! You were screaming so loud that your neighbors probably heard you!"

Before Zak could argue back, a bright flash of lightning along with a loud boom of roaring thunder happened. The hairs on the back of their neck immediately raised up, Darryl letting out a startled yelp as Zak practically could've jumped out of his own skin.

Suddenly the TV turned off. The small lamp that was dimly illuminating the room shut off. They both sat in complete darkness, coming to a chilling realization.

This was a blackout.

- . . . =)

Darryl was shaky. Normally being in the dark wouldn't be that much of big deal, but he was already starting to get paranoid. "Oh my goodness Zak I can't s-see anything.."

Zak tried to shake the feeling that he was secretly freaked out too. They both knew the fact that they just finished watching a horror film made this situation a hundred times worse.

"Okay, calm down. I'm going to look around the house so that we can find something like.. I don't know, a flashlight." Zak turned on his phone and cursed to himself when his phone was a little low on battery. "Here, I'll even let you hold this."

Darryl held Zak's phone and turned on its flashlight. The rain was coming down hard as more thunder was heard. They both stood up until they suddenly a loud crash was heard from the kitchen, freaking out the both of them.

Zak mumbled "oh my god" repeatedly while Darryl clung on to his arm. "What was that? Zak?! What was that?!"

"I don't know. I don't know. I'm actually getting sacred. I don't know."

Darryl's heart raced, trying to calm down. "It.. sounded like something heavy fell in the kitchen. Should we check it out?"

Zak was hesitant in checking the kitchen out, but he needed to go there anyways. What if there was something useful in the kitchen cabinets? "Okay, lets go."

Darryl slowly walked towards the kitchen with Zak following closely behind. He froze and swore his heart stopped when he saw something on the kitchen floor. "Zak, w-what is..?" He pointed at it, and Zak also felt his heart stop for a moment.

There was a huge mess on the floor. A smeared, watery, red mess on the floor. Before anyone could jump to any conclusions, Zak leaned closer to get a better look at it, and glad that he did.

"It's just the tomato sauce from earlier." He looked at the huge pot on the floor, stood up, and sighed. "How did that ended up falling? I thought I put it away"

Darryl shook his head and replied with urgency. "Nevermind that. Let's just search for a source of light, okay? Your phone is starting to die."

The two of them searched the drawers and cabinets. The most useful things they could find were batteries and a single lighter. Zak groaned as they couldn't find anything else. "I guess we also have to look in.. the basement."

Darryl gulped. "The basement?" Zak opened the door to the basement and froze. It's so dark, nobody can see a thing. "Why do basements always have to be so creepy?!" Zak thought to himself.

Zak pushed Darryl forward, mostly joking about it but also a little scared to go down there. "Hey! No! Zak don't you dare! I'm not going in!"

Zak laughed a little but also begged him to go down there. "You're the one with the flashlight! You go first!"

"No! I don't wanna go down there!" He handed Zak his phone back.

"Okay fine! I'll go down there.. by myself." Zak started to walk forward trying not to be intimidated by the darkness.

"Waitwaitwait." Darryl suddenly hugged Zak from behind. "Let me go with you."

Zak laughed and turned around. "What the heck?! Make up your mind!"

Darryl whined. "I'm sorry! I don't wanna be left alone!" He paused, looking away as his face turned pink. "I also didn't want to leave you down there too, you fatty."

Zak lightly giggled, already feeling less scared. "Alright, here." Zak grabbed Darryl's hand and smiled. "I'll lead the way, so that way I can protect you."

They both walked down the stairs as Darryl pouted. "What? No, I will protect you."

"No way, I'm the one who will do all the protecting."

"No you won't, I will!"

The stairs creaked as they made it to the basement. There were many boxed stacked against one another. A chill went down Darryl's spine. It was pretty cold in here. Zak already started to look through a bunch of boxes.

"I know that there has to be a flashlight somewhere. Let's keep looking."

Darryl opened up a box and searched through it, trying to adjust to the dark as Zak had the flashlight. He gasped as he found candles. "This could be useful!" He thought. He was about to tell Zak what he found, until he heard something.

He turned around, and felt his blood run cold. He saw something in the corner of his eye slipped through a few boxes. A figure that looked white...

Darryl frantically started to talk. "Zak we need to go! Now!" Zak looked up, alert and confused. "What? What's wrong?"

"I-I saw something! Something white that went in between the boxes! Something white!"

Zak gulped. He knows that Darryl wouldn't make that kind of joke, but he desperately wanted it to be a joke. "Darryl p-please no- don't do this. Not now."

Darryl's voice only became desperate. "I'm being serious Zak we need to leave!"

Just their luck, Zak's phone battery became too low and the flashlight turned off. They could hardly see each other. As if the situation couldn't get any creepier, they heard rustling somewhere in the pile of boxes. Were they even alone?

The rustling suddenly became louder. Whatever was making that sound was getting closer as boxes started to fall over.

"Y-You know what, you're right. Forget the lights, let's just go. GO!" They both ran for the stairs until Zak shrieked. A lot of boxes just fell on top of him, knocking him to the ground.

"Oh my gosh, Zak!?" Darryl lifted a few boxes away. "Are you okay?! Za-" He stopped talking when he saw him, surprised to say the least.

"ROCCO?!" Zak shouted in bewilderment. The two stared at the dog at a lost for words. Rocco was on top of Zak as he started to lick his face. He was slightly covered in... tomato sauce.

That was when Darryl started to put two and two together. Rocco knocked over the tomato sauce in the kitchen. Rocco was the white thing he saw in the corner of his eye. Rocco was the one that knocked over the boxes.

Rocco was behind everything this entire time.

Darryl broke out a grin, letting out a laugh of disbelief as his anxiousness faded away. "Zak, I think your dog has been the one scaring us."

Zak lightly grabbed his dog's head, taking a closer look at him. A look of realization hits and he laughed when he saw the mess on his dog. "You have got to be kidding me! What?!"

Darryl giggled and kneeled down to pet Rocco. "He's such a good boy yesh he is!" As Zak tried to stand up he felt something on the floor and gasped. "Dude! A flashlight!"

"Oh my goodness, really?" Darryl beamed. The battery compartment was open, but empty. Zak grabbed the batteries in his pocket and put them in his flashlight. It worked, brightening up most of the basement.

Darryl let out a little "yay!" and clapped a little. Zak looked like he could breathe at last. "Oh my god I can finally see!" They both stood up and looked at Rocco. Darryl smiled sheepishly. "Aww, maybe we should clean him up a little."

-

Zak brought his dog out of the basement while Darryl held the box of candles he found and the flashlight. While Zak was giving Rocco a bath, Darryl decided that he would clean up the tomato sauce in the kitchen. It took longer than expected, being that Zak had the flashlight while Darryl was slightly in the dark, but he didn't mind.

Darryl finished up and went to check on Zak. He just finished up cleaning Rocco and was trying to dry him up as much as he can with a towel. "Stupid blackout won't let me use the stupid hair dryer." Zak pouted.

Darryl lightly laughed at his childish muffin. "Here, lemme help." He grabbed another towel to help dry Rocco's fur. They made some progress as Rocco was almost completely dried up. Darryl got an idea.

"Ooh! Zak, what if we put Rocco in one of your hoodies?"

He gave a confused look and laughed. "What, why?"

"Because it would be adorable! He would be all snugly in a hoodie!"

Zak chuckled. He did like the idea of it. "Okay. I'll finish up here. I'm sure you can find a hoodie in my room, so take the flashlight."

Darryl was hesitant to take the flashlight. "You sure you'll be fine without any lights?"

"Yeah I'm fine! Besides, it was your idea. Plus, I got my doggo!" Zak smiled while hugging his dog.

Darryl smiled back at the two being cute. "Alright then."

Darryl went to Zak's room with the flashlight and searched in his closet. As he searched, he eventually found a Skeppy hoodie. "Perfect!" He went out to see that Zak and Rocco weren't in the bathroom anymore. "Zak? Where'd you go?"

"Over here!" Zak's voice was coming from the living room. He walked over there and took a moment to observe the atmosphere.

The room was dimly lit with small candles placed around. It was still raining outside, but the storm seemed to have calmed down. Rocco and Zak were on the couch with a lantern next to him. Darryl sat right next to him and smiled when Zak wrapped a blanket around him.

"Where did you get that lantern?" He handed the hoodie over to Zak.

"It was in the box of candles you found. I figured I could use it too." Zak managed to put the hoodie on Rocco. He held the lantern and giggled a bit as Rocco snuggled up against him.

Darryl felt his heart flutter at the scene, and smiled. These two were being adorable, but he couldn't help but admire the raven haired boy for a moment. The glow from the lantern made his smiling face look brighter and more radiant. He would take his picture right now if he could.

Other than his adorable looks though, he was taking a moment to adore him just being... him. Tonight was pretty terrifying, no doubt about it. And yes, sometimes he would be such a ragamuffin and scare him even more. But despite all that, Zak also managed to make him feel happy.. comfortable.. loved...

"Earth to Darryl? Why are you staring at me you weirdo?" Zak laughed. Darryl barely snapped out of it and murmured out loud.

"Zak, have I ever told you that you're the light of my life?"

Zak was caught off guard as he felt the heat rise up to his face. "Wh- How-" He started laughing at the flirtatious pun and looked away. "Since when have you learned to talk like that?!" He usually wasn't the one to be a smooth talker.

Darryl beamed when he realized he successfully managed to fluster him. He was proud, but also a little embarrassed that he managed to say that out loud. He decided to push a little further.

"Since I realized how much I loved you."

Zak brightly laughed a little more. "Okay, no." He smirked as he pulled Darryl closer to him. He cupped his face as their noses touched, instantly making the taller one's face go red.

Darryl went completely silent as he wrapped Zak into the blanket with him, hiding his flustered face into the other's hair. Zak faintly giggled, hugging him closer.

"Stick to being cute..."

[End]

Typing the creepy bits while listening to eerie music in the dark was intriguing :D ...

[rosesisupposes]

Lunkheads

Part 6 of Breakin’ Free, a High School Musical Sanders Sides AU

Chapter Pairings: Prinxiety

Chapter Warnings: Negative self-talk, graphic description of a panic attack

word count: 4,674

Reader tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @jemthebookworm@arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt@astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty

<<5. The Status Quo  | 7. If We’re Tryin’>>

read on ao3

SCENE: Gymnasium

Squeaks, dribbles, and whistles echoed through the gym. The basketball team faced each other in two lines, passing back and forth in a zipper pattern. The ball flew between players, hitting their hands in a thwap THWAP pattern. Coach Bolton strode up and down the line with a sharp eye to his team, offering encouragement as he went.

“Let's go, guys! Make it sharp! To the chest, come on!”

Thwap THWAP thwap THWAP

“Pop it! Come on, guys, focus! Focus!”

The ball traveled up and down the line, and Coach did too. Finally, he stepped in front of Patton to catch the ball.

“You seen Roman today?”

“Uh, no, Coach,” Patton admitted.

The coach frowned, and blew his whistle even louder than usual. “Again!”

If he could have brought himself to leave the gym, he might have heard snatches of a tune being composed, or voices raised in song, practicing. He might have seen a pair of students in the scene shop, helping to paint backdrops and sew costumes while sharing smiles. He might have noticed they both tapped their feet to an inaudible rhythm, humming softly in perfect harmony.

Instead, he saw only his son racing into the gym just as the rest of the team finally finished practicing for the day.

Remy scowled and flung a ball at Roman’s chest as he entered, out of breath.

“Hit the showers, boys. Good hustle today, let’s see that in the game,” Coach called, pointedly looking away from his only child.

As the other players disappeared into the locker room, Roman spoke without looking at his father. “I, uh... think I'm gonna stay a while. Work on some free throws.”

“Well, since you missed practice, I think your team deserves a little effort from you today,” Coach responded, already leaving.

Roman took a deep breath and aimed. He jumped from the three-point line, arms extending in a perfect angle to bounce the ball neatly into the net. Up, catch the rebound, dribble back to the line, and aim again. This time, it landed with a soft swish, no backboard needed.

“So here’s the real stage,” Virgil commented, walking in.

The shame of failing his team melted off Roman’s shoulders as he caught sight of Virgil’s wry grin. “Yeah, you could call it that. Or just a smelly gym,” he grinned back, tossing the ball to Virgil.

Virgil stepped to the line, narrowed his eyes in focus, and tossed the ball, sinking it for a three-point shot.

“What is this? Are you secretly good at basketball too? Stealing my thing, no big deal.”

“I actually once scored 41 points in a league championship game,” Virgil said with a modest shrug.

“What? No way!” Roman exclaimed, impressed.

“Yeah, same day I invented the space shuttle and got My Chemical Romance to reunite.”

“Oh, you’re funny now, I get it,” Roman said, with a mocking grin. He stole the ball back and sank another perfect basket.

“I’ve been rehearsing with Joan, by the way,” Virgil said. “I think it’s going well.”

“Me too. And by the way, I missed basketball practice for that today. So if I get kicked off the team it should be on your conscience.”

“What?” Virgil looked alarmed. “I wasn't the one who told you to sing…”

“I’m kidding, Panic! at the Everywhere,” Roman said, grinning.

“That’s it!” Virgil said with mock fury. He stole the basketball and kept it away from the taller man, laughing.

“Hey! That’s traveling!” Roman protested, trying to reclaim it. “That’s really bad traveling!” None of his normal techniques worked on such a short opponent.

“Only if you catch me!” Virgil smirked.

“Oh, a challenge, is it?” Roman grabbed Virgil around the waist, lifting him and the basketball bodily off the floor and spinning until the ball bounced out of his hand.

“Excuse me, this is a closed practice!” a voice shouted from the locker room entrance.

Coach Bolton walked in, scowling. Roman immediately placed Virgil back on the floor as the smaller man appeared to shrink in on himself.

“Dad, come on, practice is over,” Roman said.

“Not until the last player leaves the gym. Team rule,” he responded curtly.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Virgil said softly.

“Coach, uh, Dad, this is Virgil Montez.”

“Ah, your detention buddy,” his dad responded rudely, not shaking the hand Virgil had tentatively extended.

Virgil looked down, his bangs falling to cover his face. “I’ll see you later, Ro. Um, good to meet you, Coach Bolton.” He left the gym quickly, not looking back.

“Dad, that was rude. Detention was my fault, not his.”

“You haven't missed practice in three years. That boy shows up…”

“‘That boy’ is named Virgil, and he’s a really… cool guy.” Roman hoped his blush wasn’t visible, but he could feel it warming his cheeks.

“Well, helping you miss practice doesn't make him very cool, not in my book. Or your team's.”

“He’s not a problem, dad! He’s just a guy!”

“But you’re not just a guy, Roman! You're the team captain,” Coach interrupted. Roman flinched. It always came back to this, didn’t it. “What you do affects not only this team, but the entire school. And without you completely focused, we're not gonna win next week. These championship games - they don't come along all the time. They're something special.”

Roman could feel a lump of frustration in his throat. “A lot of things are special.”

“But you're a playmaker... not a singer, right?”

Roman finally made eye contact, feel his heart drop in his chest. Of course his dad had heard about it. Of course he wasn’t going to be happy about it. But that didn't mean Roman was going to blindly accept his dismissal. “Did you ever think maybe, just maybe, I could be both?”

His father was silent. Roman tossed the ball away, not caring where it landed, as he stomped away to the outside entrance of the gym.

At the locker room door, the eavesdropping team members exchanged looks. Patton’s face was a mask of worry, but Remy’s was one of pure exasperation.

SCENE: Library

It wasn’t until the next day that Remy was able to corner Roman. Roman was attempting to complete actual classwork, searching for books among the stacks. Remy, as per usual, had only his basketball and an attitude.

“For real, babes, what spell has this elevated-IQ incubus cast that suddenly makes you wanna be in a musical?”

“Rem, stop talking about him that way. I just did it, okay? Who cares?”

“Who cares? How about your most loyal best friend?”

“Quiet in here, Mr. Danforth!” the librarian hissed, rounding the corner from the fiction section.

Remy held up his hands. “It’s all him, Ms. Falstaff,” he said innocently, pointing at Roman. “I’ll keep him in line.”

She gave him a look, then returned to shelving.

Remy tried a new tactic. “Look, Ro, have you ever seen Colm Wilkinson on a cereal box?”

“Rem, who the hell is Colm Wilkinson?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he responded with an exaggerated sigh. “He was Jean Valjean in Les Miserables in London, on Broadway, and in the anniversary concert. Why do I know this? Because Mum has seen that musical 27 times and she put a picture of him in our refrigerator.” Roman stared at his friend, who nodded knowingly. “Hun, I know. Not on it. In it.”

“Why?”

“Bitch, I don’t know, I think it’s part of a some weird diet idea, I try not to think about it in depth.”

Ms. Falstaff glared over the circulation desk, and Remy pointed an accusing finger at Roman once more.

“But Ro, here’s my point,” he continued as she turned away. “Keep playing basketball, you end up on the cereal box. Keep singing, you end up in my mom’s fridge.”

Roman snapped his book closed, turning to face his friend. “Remy, I don’t understand. Why can’t I have more than one thing? You and Patton both do basketball and the GSA and that works fine.”

“Because the whole team needs you. How can you expect the rest of us to be focused on a game if you're off somewhere singing ‘Twinkle Town’?” Remy slid down his glasses for a moment with a smirk. “But for real, babes, the minute you’re finally ready to come out to the GSA, we’ll make it work.”

“What?” Roman sputtered.

“What?” Remy said innocently. “Anygay, I just need you to know this, Ro: the team relies on you. As the playmaker and as our captain. Without you, we don’t stand a chance against West High.”

Roman sighed and looked away as the librarian hissed at them again, “Boys! Keep it down! ”

“I’ve been trying to tell him, Ms. Falstaff,” Remy insisted, looking at his friend meaningfully. “I really, really tried.” Roman refused to make eye contact as Remy grabbed his ball and left him alone in the library.

SCENE: Science Lab

Logan was in the middle of organizing materials for a decathlon team meeting when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Remy Danforth and Patton Baylor strolling into the science lab, heading straight for him.

“Hey, nerd-” Remy started, but Patton elbowed him. With a roll of his eyes, Remy amended himself. “McKessie. We need to talk.”

“I fail to see any topic on which we would converse, Danforth,” Logan responded, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s about Roman, and Virgil,” Patton supplied helpfully. “Remy is worried about Ro, even if he shows it in odd ways.”

Logan was happy to turn to the taller man and address him, rather than the sarcastic man staring at him from over those infernal sunglasses. He was inside a building, and it wasn’t particularly bright - why did he insist on wearing them all the time?

Yes, it was the sunglasses and Remy’s irritating drawl that led Logan to speak to Patton instead, not the way the man’s curls seemed to glow even under the science lab’s fluorescent lights.

“In what way are you worried about him, and how would I possibly play any role in any plan to help?”

“Well, I think this idea of auditioning for a musical is great if that’s what he wants, but I also know basketball is one of Roman’s biggest passions. And his dream has always been to have a great high school career so that he can keep playing forever,” Patton explained. “Remy is… less enthused about the prospect of him singing, but we can both see that he’s getting really distracted, and losing focus, and it’s affecting the whole family.”

“Apologies, Patton, but I fail to see how the Bolton household is relevant to me?”

Remy rolled his eyes and explained, “It’s the team. The basketball team. Pat calls us family.”

“Ah. So your sports team is struggling. I am sorry to hear that, but that still does not explain how I figure into this discussion.”

“It’s like this, Specs,” Remy said, leaning on the lab bench. “Ro is distracted because his obliviously gay ass can’t get enough of your new genius boy Virgil. And I bet your Nerd Olympics would go much better if Virgil could be convinced to focus on that instead.”

“It is called the decathlon,” Logan said stiffly.

“So the decathlon team would probably do much better if Virgil was on it, right?” Patton asked, trying to apologize for his teammate’s rudeness with a smile directed right at Logan.

Logan was suddenly acutely grateful for his insistence on always keeping a neat appearance. Thanks to his polo and tie, he knew he was dressed more formally than most students, but at this moment he was intensely grateful for taking his barber’s advice to get his hair cut with a modest side fade and small, neat twists on top. It needed very little maintenance to look orderly, and he was sure he would have been frantically running his fingers through it if he hadn’t been assured it wasn’t a mess. Had Patton always had so many freckles? Or had they suddenly become more distracting? Logan realized that the man he was contemplating was still waiting on his response and coughed lightly.

“Ah, yes. We would indeed benefit from Mr. Montez’s extensive knowledge in the realm of chemistry. However, he has been reluctant to join the team as of yet, despite a steadily-growing level of familiarity with myself and other team members.”

“That’s cause ya boi cares much less about chemistry than about Ro’s anatomy,” Remy snarked.

“Rem, don’t be mean,” Patton admonished.

“Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it, hun. I’m way too ace for their shit.”

“Anyway-”

“Anygay”

“-we think our plan will also convince Virgil to focus more on his strengths, as well. But um, Rem. You’re sure it’s not too mean, right?” Patton asked, fiddling with his glasses anxiously as he spoke.

“Pat, we’re not going to be feeding Ro any lines or anything. Anything he says will be his own words, no one else’s. There’s no shame in honesty, right?”

Patton seemed to waver, but nodded.

“You have sparked my interest,” Logan said, able to look at both basketball players more easily now. “Brief me on the plan, and I will see if I can in fact be of assistance.”

Dee strode down the hallway, brainstorming new makeup looks when he and Cee passed the open lab door. He stopped suddenly, seeing basketball players mingling further with students outside their circle.

“Cee, do you see that? Something’s not right here.”

“Do you think they’re working together to help Roman and Virgil beat us out for the parts? Why would they do that?” Cee asked with a tilt of his head. The twins were precisely color-coordinated today, with Dee in blush pink and Cee in blue.

“Think about it - the jocks are already the most popular group in school. If they branch into drama club, that’s practically the entire student body. And if the science club gets their resident prodigy paired up with Roman Bolton, they go from drool to cool.” Dee shivered at the image. “Ugh, Cee, we can’t just sit back. We need to save our show from people who don’t know the difference between a queue-to-queue and a barbecue.”

“I admit, I am impressed with the thought you have put into this, Remy,” Logan said. “Do you think it will work?”

“I do. Gotta save my main man from his own stupidity somehow.”

“Here is what you will need, then,” he said, pulling out a laptop and compact webcam.

Remy lifted his glasses to check his watch. “I’m at 11:35 Mountain Standard Time, we synced?”

“Given that we both have internet-connected phones, I would assume yes.”

“12:05, lunch period. Operation Save The Gayme is a go.”

“There is no reason for such theatrics. We are not some covert mission.”

“Maybe you’re not,” Remy smirked, pointing at his t-shirt. It read ‘I Come With My Own Background Music.’ “Me, I’m Charlie’s Angel, babes. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Thank you again, Logan,” Patton said, pulling Remy out of the lab. “We owe you one!” He waved as they left.

Logan couldn’t help waving back. This plan had to be a good idea if such a friendly man approved, right?

SCENE: Locker Room

Roman wandered the halls, searching for his team. It was lunchtime - where were they? Was there another unplanned practice he was missing? He checked the locker rooms, just in case.

He expected to find at least one teammate. He hadn’t expected to find the entire varsity team staged around a table. It was covered in trophies, basketballs, and varsity letters from years past.

Remy stood in front of the crowd, holding a framed portrait of a young man in a vintage basketball uniform.

“‘Spider’ Bill Netrine, class of '72,” Remy recited. “He was the MVP in the league championship game.”

Patton continued on, with another picture in his hands.. “Sam Nedler, class of '02. Also known as ‘Sammy Slamma Jamma.’ Captain and MVP of the league championship team.”

Another team member lifted yet another photo. “The ‘Thunder Clap’ Hap Hadden, '95. Led the Wildcats to back-to-back city championships. Alegend .”

“Yes, legends, one and all,” Remy said, waving at the memorabilia. “But do you think that any of these Wildcat legends became legends by getting involved in musical auditions just days before the league championships?”

The team chorused, “Get your head in the game!”

Roman’s stomach dropped. Was it not enough that his dad kept pushing him to practice in every waking minute? Was it not enough to keep hearing Remy harp on this alone? But now, it was the whole team. And they were all here, united. Against him.

Remy punctuated his words with urgent gestures. “These Wildcat legends became legends because they never took their eye off the prize.”

Again, the chorus of the whole team:  “Get your head in the game!”

Remy turned to the group. “Now, who was the first sophomore ever to make starting varsity?

“Roman!”

“So, who voted him our team captain this year?” he asked with a smile, turning back to Ro.

“Us!”

“And who is gonna get their sorry asses kicked in Friday's championship game if Roman’s worried about an audition?” He asked, face serious as he locked eyes with his oldest friend.

The team wasn’t quite in sync as the dejected response came, “We are.”

“Rem, guys, come on. I mean, there's 12 people on this team, not just me,” Roman protested. The guilt was starting to gnaw at him. Was he being selfish, for wanting to explore this other side of himself when so many people were counting on him?

“Just 12? Oh, no. I think you're forgetting about one very important 13th member of our squad,” Remy said. An underclassman handed Remy a picture from behind one of the largest trophies, who turned it for Roman to see.

A lump formed in his throat. “It’s my dad.”

“Yes, Ro. Wildcat basketball champion Jack Bolton, class of 1981. Champion, father, and now coach. It's a winning tradition like no other.”

Roman felt yet another twist of the knife in his conscience. There was so much riding on this game, so many people counting on him, and the team was convinced he was giving up on them.

He couldn’t let that happen.

SCENE: Science Lab

Virgil had thought it was odd that Logan asked him to come work on homework in the lab during lunch, but not too out of the ordinary. But when he entered to see a laptop set up with a presentation queued and the whole decathlon team waiting, his nerves started to spike.

“Um, Lo, what is this?”

“Virgil, I would like to share some very important information with you. Please, sit.”

Virgil sat, not sure what to expect. Logan picked up a pointer and hit play on the computer.

“From lowly Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon, to early warriors, to medieval knights. All leading up to…” he gestured to another teammate, who unrolled a poster - a small recreation of the enormous Wildcat Pride mural, complete with Roman’s smiling face. “...lunkhead basketball boy.”

Virgil scoffed, but Logan continued to speak.

“Yes, our culture worshiped the aggressor throughout the ages and we end up with spoiled, overpaid, bonehead athletes who contribute little to civilization other than slam dunks and touchdowns.That is the inevitable world of Roman Bolton.”

The presentation started to play uplifting music as Logan continued. “But the path of the mind, the path we are on, ours is the path that has brought us these people: Rosalind Franklin, Pierre and Marie Curie, Jane Goodall, George Washington Carver and so many others who the world reveres.”

“Um, cool, Lo, but what is this? You know, I've got Joan waiting for me to rehearse, I need to get going…” Virgil said, rising.

“Virgil, please,” Logan said sharply.

The shorter man sat back down, thoroughly confused.

“Roman Bolton represents one side of evolution. And our side, the side of education and accomplishment is the future of civilization! This is the side where you belong, Virgil. That is where you can do so much good, for you, for science, and for the world.”

“Lo, buddy, I’ve always intended to stay in the sciences, I don’t know why you’re so concerned. Roman and I, we’re just… friends. Singing partners. It’s no big deal.”

“Virgil, trust me. You need to watch this,” Logan said, clicking the screen. It cut to a feed of the locker room. Virgil was shocked to see Roman, distressed and frustrated.

“Guys, if you don't know that I'll give 110% on the court, then you don't know me!” he insisted. He wasn’t facing the camera nor did he seem aware of its presence.

“But we just thought…” a disembodied voice said.

“I'll tell you what I thought. I thought that you're my friends. Win together, lose together, teammates.” He looked close to tears. Virgil stared in confusion. How was this being filmed? Why was Roman so upset?

“But suddenly, this singing, and this singing partner...” another voice asked Roman, off-camera.

“Man, I'm for the team! I've always been for the team. He's just... someone I met,” Roman said. Virgil felt his breath catch in his throat. Didn’t I tell you? Don’t get your hopes up. But Roman wasn’t done yet.

“This singing thing is nothing. Probably just a way to keep my nerves down, I don't know. It means nothing to me. You're my guys and this is our team. Virgil is not important. I'll forget about him, I'll forget the audition and we'll go out and get that championship. Okay?”

He couldn’t breathe. How had his fears, the nagging voices in the back of his head, suddenly started speaking with Roman’s voice? With Roman’s face? Your friends are annoyed by you. You’re a burden, getting in their space. You’re taking them away from things they would rather be doing. You’re not important.

“Behold. Lunkhead basketball boy,” Logan said quietly, gesturing to the screen as the video feed ended. Virgil could barely hear him over the storm of hurt in his mind. He was frozen, waiting for the world to come crashing down around him, for all the other disaster scenarios to come true.

Logan, apparently, did not recognize the external symptoms of an anxiety attack. “So, if you have the time, we would greatly appreciate having you on the decathlon team, Virgil.” He paused, noting the lack of response. “Or perhaps you would just like to get some lunch?”

The last phrase managed to permeate Virgil’s whirling thoughts and he shook his head stiffly.

Logan frowned, but left the lab all the same with the other science club members.

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he sat, drowning in fear. His breath came in shallow gasps as his body prepared him to flee the thousands of terrible things that surely were coming for him now. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block them out, but the inside of his eyelids only presented him with a film roll of disasters. Roman tosses him aside, Logan realizes he’s not that smart, the science club pushes him out, teachers see right through him, he fails out of high school, can’t get a job, his mom gets disgusted and kicks him out, he ends up homeless and on the street, he starves to death alone and abandoned in a dark alley.

His knuckles turned white with the effort of gripping the lab bench, clinging to something physical. He knew he was spiraling, and struggled to pull himself out. What can I see? Black stone of the lab bench top. Empty beakers and flasks. A whiteboard at the front of the room. American flag in the corner. What can I feel? Cold table top warming where my hand it touching it. The rungs of the stool where my feet are resting on it. The fabric of my hoodie against my wrists. What can I hear? Chatter of students in the other room. Sneakers and shoes on the tiles of the hallway. Music in the courtyard.

Music?

He pulled himself up to standing, and walked to the window. The cheerleading squad was spilling out into the courtyard, singing the Wildcat fight song. And there was the basketball team behind them, jamming along, hollering and cheering.

And there was Roman, in the center of it all, fully caught up with his team.

A tear coursed down Virgil’s cheek. It had been all real, then. Roman really had abandoned him, sticking with his team and the one thing he knew best. He leapt onto the lip of the fountain with his teammates, seemingly without a care in the world.

But really, what was Virgil even losing? Just a chance to audition for a musical that he didn’t really want to be in alone, anyway. Everyone knew Roman was straight, that much of the school gossip VIrgil had heard. He’d had clearly been fooling himself this whole time, thinking that duets and smiles were somehow proof of anything other than friendship.

That didn’t make it any less painful to accept. This past week with Roman had been like something out of a fairytale. What was it he’d called himself, up on the roof? The school’s Prince Charming? Except he hadn’t been the school’s. He’d been Virgil’s, this fantastical dream come true. A beautiful man, tall, ginger, freckled, and with a smile that shone like a shooting star about to grant Virgil’s every wish.

Clearly, he was the last one to realize how dumb he’d been. Thank god Logan had shown him Roman’s true sentiments. Otherwise, Virgil might have gone on fooling himself, believing in his own feelings so hard that he convinced himself it was the truth.

He knew better now. This was real life, not a fairytale. Roman was no prince, just a boy who Virgil had foolishly believed he’d had a chance with. He’d been humoring him, sung the other half of the duet that Virgil so desperately had wanted to be a reflection of reality. Now the words had changed. Virgil held no importance to Roman, he’d said it himself. The basketball star would forget about the weird, gloomy nerd and focus on his upcoming game. Virgil would make sure he didn’t interfere again. Now that he knew, he could at least avoid being even more of an unwanted burden than before.

SCENE: Hallway

Virgil was at his locker, getting books for his next class, when Roman found him.

“Hey there, Dark & Stormy,” he said with a smile, leaning on the side of the locker. There was a lot of him to lean. “Listen, there's something I wanna talk to you about.”

Virgil took a deep breath. Time to get this over with. At the very least, he could make sure Roman knew he didn’t blame him, and that he knew that he was free of any future obligation to his one-time duet partner.  

“I need to talk to you about the same thing, so here it is. I know what it's like to carry a load with your friends- I get it. You've got your boys. So we're, you know, good.”

Roman’s smile weakened as he listened in confusion. “Good about what? I was gonna talk to you about the callbacks…”

“I don't wanna do them either,” Virgil interrupted. “I do get it, Roman. Singing - it’s not my thing, and it’s not yours. So what’s the use in kidding ourselves?  You've got your team and now I've got mine. I'll do the scholastic decathlon and you'll win the championships. It's where we belong.” Virgil handed him his copy of the song they’d been rehearsing. “Go Wildcats, yeah?”

“But I…” Roman started, brow furrowed.

“Me neither,” Virgil said with a half-hearted smile. He closed his locker and walked away, refusing to look back. If he looked back, he might lose his resolve. And the only thing that could hurt worse than walking away would be having to do it more than once.

[survivedeathvalley]

EPISODE 1 - “TIME FOR SOME BRO AND TELL” - GIRUGA MESH

I am so excited to be competing! Everyone seems like such nice people and I can't wait to play in the challenges and do my very best!

Mattie is such a Basic Bitch(TM) and it's killing me. Like I'm not that great of an actress, I am a superb liar but I am a shitty actress. Why? because humor is the only thing that keeps me from going insane and I made Mattie such a basic bitch that she can't use any of my "quirks" or fun thoughts and theories. And now Mattie just mentioned death by dehydration, motherfucker! I am so going to be first boot it's not even funny. UwU

I just wanna talk about my feelings about being on the neutral tribe... I do consider myself on the Chaotic Neutral/Chaotic Good side of things. The chaos comes from my crazy emotions. I'm a Pisces so I'm sensitive and emotional. Also I'm actually kinda happy about being on a tribe of 6 people. I NATURALLY gravitate towards Bianca. I know who Paul is cause he slipped up in the tribe chat. So I feel good :)

OK SO i said i was retired but i adore logan and i wanna see what i can do without my baggage of the past that fukt me in ts all stars so phew. the people on my team seem chill, idk why but for some reason i get the feeling that theyre younger than me which doesnt make sense since im only 20 but anyway. I know that i type very specially and use phrases a lot so its gonna be hard to stop doing that bc if any of these people know me at all its gonna be a dead giveaway! 

So I've spent all day at Disney World today and I finally get back to the hotel and come online to speak to my tribe.  No one has talked to me one on one yet so... yeah,  no idea.  I said in the main chat I just got off work and I checked online to see Chick-fil-a's hours to make sure my story checked out too. :* We'll see what happens, on to figuring out this challenge!

First off: When I read this... Confess your sins, your dirty-dirty bad bads, your evil twisted thoughts here. It made me think of the dialogue in a bad porno. http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lthhgjZ1xY1qg39ewo1_500.gif Second off: I do quite enjoy the concept of this alias season. I like the idea of going into the game as a fresh face with a fresh personality and playing along with other people that I don't have any idea of. It kind of rekindles the fun that I have when I get to play in seasons with newbies. http://mashable.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/excited-baby.gif Then, of course, I remember that these are not newbies so some of that fire loses a little oxygen. https://media.giphy.com/media/BmMU3LOfNMMeI/giphy.gif But, I'll try to convince myself that we're all playing for the first time. 

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So far I've noticed a few things about my tribemates. I don't think anything can be applied specifically to the individual given that I haven't really reached a stage to call people out... but, some of them are hung up on the fact that this a catfish season. When messaging them they tell me that it's awkward and when I tell them that the dog in my profile picture is my dog Donut they ask if it is "for real". I'm trying to play up this characters of Jenny for them because I thought that was the goal and I need these people to get on board. https://media.giphy.com/media/KGHtHISczyhHO/giphy.gif

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Wow, that last bit probably makes me come off as quite the rude person. Yikes! I need to get over myself a little. I get that easing ones self into a new situation can be challenging... sooo I'll give them a shot while continuing to respond to any and all questions and comments as Jenny would. http://replygif.net/i/440.gif

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So far I think my favorite people are Tanner, Kai, and Adelaide. I'd like to think I'd enjoy Wash as well but they went to bed shortly after starting communication with me. I don't think (so far as I know and god I hope not) that anyone has come up with a plan to ally yet so I'm just going to continue chatting to get my feelers in those waters. http://media1.giphy.com/media/BqHng2hpjOUdW/giphy.gif

Hopefully Jenny will appear charming enough to begin allying with these people. She needs some throats to slit later down the road and can only start to burn the bridges once she's built them - unfortunately!

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Alright, so I wanted to show my excitement at this game because I've played a real-life version called Tsuro with my friends where you are dragons and I'm hugely board game obsessed... but that's nowhere in Jenny's character and I don't feel like making any content about her up unless I absolutely have to! https://uberflip.cdntwrk.com/files/aHViPTIxOCZjbWQ9aXRlbWVkaXRvcmltYWdlJmZpbGVuYW1lPWl0ZW1lZGl0b3JpbWFnZV81NmQ4NDkzNzFjM2I0LmdpZiZ2ZXJzaW9uPTAwMDAmc2lnPTIxMTE0OTVlM2I1Y2M2NWVlYjMzOTE3OTcyMDExZmI0 Also, I was being truthful when I said the challenge is hard... like, I guess I'm having some difficulties processing the path or something because I keep crashing absurdly early. I'm hoping that by tomorrow when others have played it they will be able to talk me through getting a decent score so our tribe doesn't have to go and I won't have to face the possibility of being first boot (which is likely).

Ok! So basically, Kat just asked me for an alliance??? It's legit night one like chill, but obviously I ain't gunna turn down an ally so i'll play along. I was like "OMG YAHHH I NEVER HAVE ALLIES ON SURVIVOR ORGS" hopefully that makes her think im like a 100% on board... in realist im like 40% on board. It's SHADee as FUCK to try and propose an alliance so early... Also, Giruga (or whatever) is legit annoying as fuck. I think ever sentence he has said thus far has the word "bro" in it? Like can you not be annoying as fuck for no reason... I get it is an alias season, but they dont give you no free pass to be as obnoxious as possible. Praying we win this challenge... hopefully get first because I could totally use a reward with possibility of an advantage in the game. GIMME THAT IDOL. If we do happen to lose I cant wait for the ugly bro culture of Giruga to be the first boot this season deserves.

Honestly I love my tribe and everyone seem so nice  Not knowing who people really are is kinda crazy but I'll get use to it. 

That challenge was crazy and I'm glad it's almost over with. 

I'm bored so I'm just gonna... make another confessional. What does this alias twist mean to me? I wanna be able to make the most of it and be able to play the game I'm never capable of playing as my real self. As who am actually am I suck at seperating emotion and strategy so I'm gonna try to be as emotionless as possible, which I actually think will be easy considering idk who anyone is....... except 2 people perhaps. Anyway time to flop at this challenge xoxox give me a good edit please

i'm typing like gabby bc i don't wanna get out of practice. why is it that the only person that talks to me is misty? bianca i c that u're on and you don't respond to me you're the first person im gonna target. i swear i've sent a 'hey' message to every1 on my tribe and the only one that responded was MISTY.  then marco or whatever his name is hasn't even accepted my friend request yet... i see how it is.

Later...

I mean I figured we didn't do fantastic but losing by over half.... sucks.  a lot.  Misty and uh.... someone else just called Marco out for not accepting anyones friend request... maybe that means we can vote him out this round to ensure I stay. :) 

https://youtu.be/NSE7BsDWti0

https://youtu.be/mn4vdHFOM88

I forgot we were the Titus tribe but then I realized we got 2nd so I am very proud of my tribe! We did it yay!

So we just got 2nd and are immune this week I'm so happy. Whoever gets voted out will be crazy bc no one wants to be first boot but the weakest should go!

So, not only does Kat approach me as an alliance, but i just got approached by William and Layla, too? Damn I cant believe im winning this game :))) Anyway, supposedly Kat and William are ORG newbies? Not sure if that is a lie, but that doesnt shrink their targets by any means... Also thank the fucking survivor gods this Bro bitch aint on our tribe for the next 20 hours!!!! I hope he burns in the Devil's butthole along with his meninst culture.

So UMMMM I'm gonna just spearhead this plan to get Marco out cause he hasn't spoken... at all. I'm not afraid to take control of my tribe at this point cause the inacts gotta go. Mattie/Gabby are both pretty active so I wanna work with them. Bianca's my goddess so I wanna work with her too. It sucks she got removed or else I would've formed a majority with them. Rn I'm telling everyone "If you watch out for me I'll do the same for you blah blah blah" and making deals w/ everyone because that's how I play! Let's hope it works out xoxoxo

okay, i've been trying to be a super sleuth to figure out these identities...  I really think that Misty is really Nic.  Misty is from Georgia and Nic is from Georgia, and I think they are from around the same area.  Nic knows that I am from Georgia and now he knows that Gabby is from Georgia too so I hope he doesn't put it together, I think that I'm typing differently enough and I lowkey think he believes that whoever is behind Gabby really works at chick fil a because I've been doing my homework. I'm not sure who Mattie is yet, but I'm having a hard time NOT mentioning how much I love Glee because then I think people would obviously know who I am- or they would think that I'm Ashley Sarah, but Mattie was talking about Scream Queens and I desperately wanted to say I LOVE LEA MICHELE but I kept my cool. I lowkey think that Mattie might be Pippa though, they remind me of each other.   Everyone else....?  I still have no idea. 

Not much has happened so far. I've talked to a few people but nothing has really moved forward. I was happy to go to the devil's hole, although I didn't end up finding anything. I'm glad I got a chance to meet people from the other tribes though. It was interesting to find out that they have people who haven't even spoken in tribe chat yet? That's crazy. Also it's fun to try to guess who's who. I mean, it's possible I don't even already know the people on my tribe, but it's still fun to try to figure out who they could be. I haven't really gotten there yet. Although I wonder if Alex Raine is a bit new to the community because he's a comp beast, yet he's showing it and making it obvious and making himself a target. I don't know, he seems cool and we've talked a bit, but come merge that could be tricky for him. In terms of alliances, there aren't any yet that I'm really aware of, but Jenny and Alex are the only ones I've talked to that much and I'd be happy to work with them, despite being a little nervous that Alex is a target. He's nice and hopefully his social game is as good as his physical.

aaaaa  i got 378 score   aaaa

Bye I'm going home today...  I'm shook at how fast this game started and I saw in the tribe chat that people were complaining that I hadn't added anyone yet but I didn't get any contact requests from any of them either hm!! Anyway unless I can pull myself out of the dirt somehow I'm totally screwed right now... im an easy target bc I was not here the first day and easy targets are always just easy to vote out the first week rip...

Nothing really. I haven't acted on my plans of being an aggressive player this season, so maybe I'll adapt and get a new strategy going later. Good luck to me

Right now I feel like a mess because I keep forgetting to check skype and missing important stuff. But right now the general consensus according to Misty is to vote out Marco because he literally does not exist and hasn't added any of us. I love a good first round flop. I feel like if I start showing my fabulous personality I could have a good shot at surviving if we go to tribal again, however people might be weary of me now that I've gone to the Devil's Hole, even though I got nothing. Rob wouldn't even let me keep the rock. :'(

I can't believe I'm pippa 

these bitches are so bland and boring BYE

Why did I make Kat so happy and grammatically correct all the time I'm so used to keyboard smashing like jsjsjahajak. I literally cringe every time I add an exclamation point like pls... settle down... I regret this so much nnnn. Anyways- The people I'm closest to rn are Dianna and William because we have an alliance. I'm also good with Giruga, but that's probably because he's such a talkative person-- and so is Dianna. It's really important for me to show my worth to these people so they don't target me because social players run the early premerge. I think I'm doing a pretty good job of that so far. I'm also playing it off like this is my first time playing an org, which will make me seem less threatening. I don't really know if that'll play off since we're all catfish, but I figure the more utr I am right now the better. 

Well, I can't get into my Paul account so I'm probably being voted out. Peace ✌️ 

EP 1 EDGIC

http://prntscr.com/f4zaus