Niall One Shots

Footie Love

Pt. 1

"All right ladies, since I am ready to absolutely pop this baby out of me-I have to take a leave." Your football coach walks back in forth in front of you.

She was swollen-her stomach huge. She should have left awhile ago, but she was hell bent that she was fine and that she could do it.

And she did it. If anything, she was more harsh and more tough with random break down of tears that left you all extremely nervous. But now, the baby boy was coming and the lot of you couldn't be more excited.

"In the mean time, this is coach Horan." She gestures to the blonde-brunette, tall, scrawny, and bloody handsome man.

"Horan, this is the team that you're going to have to take to championships. I'll be out for two months on maternity leave." She nods as she speaks.

It was your senior year, you guys had to win championships. This was your last chance to bring home that huge trophy.

And your team was all ready on it's way to making it there. Championships were two months away.

"All right ladies, get used to your coach, I am officially on maternity leave!" She waves and you all wave back.

Niall stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the lot of you. "Two miles. Go." He nods towards the track. "Anyone t'rows up or whines, we'll add anoder mile." His accent was thick.

You bite your lip, Irishmen were your favourite.

The team bites their tongue and stretch before getting up and starting.

"Wait! Introduce yerselves as ya run by." He folds his arms. You were the last one in the line.

"Niall Horan." He holds out his hand.

"Y/N." You murmur, your eyes on his. He has a firm handshake but you return the strength. His hand lingered in yours for a bit longer than you felt like you should. But maybe you imagined that? "I-I uh, should get going."

Niall nods, his gaze breaking, "Well, get goin' what ya blood waitin' fer?"

You start out and you are one of the first to finish. You get some water and he wanders next to you. "How fast ya run a mile?"

"In 6 minutes." You murmur, glancing at him. You caught him running his eyes up and down your body.

"Decent. Hope yer good at sprints too." He blows his whistle as the last girl brings it in. "We're doin' sucide sprints! GO!" He blows his whistle.

Why the fuck were you all fucking running? You had championships two months from now and the lot of you were bloody running! You stop and glare at him.

"Y/N! Do we 'ave a problem 'ere?" His brows come up a bit and comes to stand in front of you. God, he smelt good. And he looked good. What a twat.

The other girls keep running, intimidated by the intense nature of the new coach.

"Yeah, Coach Horan, we do." You fold your arms. "Championships are two fuckin' monthsare away and you're having us run. We need to be practicing drills! Practice is over in thirty!"

Niall smirks, "Den ya won' mind stayin' late den to run some more. Get to it." He points.

"No." You fold your arms, giving him a challenging look.

Practice is done and all of the girls are gone. You say there, rebelling against this. And against him. You wanted that championship for yourself. Not for the bull shit running!