One Direction Preferences

176-High School Football Games

CREDIT TUMBLR

Louis: He asks with much less confidence than his usual words, "will you uh, will you wear my jersey tomorrow?" he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck while staring at his feet. Blue-grey eyes meet yours, alight with pride and happiness when you say yes in a heartbeat. And later when you're sitting in the bleachers in the rain, with a smile on your face through the mud, blood, and pain of losing by a single touchdown, you're there for him. With open arms, he'll pull you in, and he's shirtless and muddy and sweaty but it's okay because you're both there and he's a bit off because he lost, and maybe he didn't play his best. But it's okay, because you're there. You were there. And you always will be.

Harry: You were from opposing teams, both of you only going to hang out with your friends, and when you got tired of hearing them gossip about what's-his-name playing quarterback, you got up and scurried down to the concession, only looking up from the ground when you stumble backwards upon colliding with another, much larger body. "Sorry" you both exclaim at once, a laugh spilling from your mouths. "Are you alright?" he asks, falling into step beside you, offering to pay for your soda and laughing at a table, away from the game, over a couple over greasy slices of pizza. And at the end of the night, after teasing him about his team losing, he'll shut you up with a quick peck on the lips, a blush on both your cheeks as he stumbles away, slipping you his number as he goes. 

Niall: He isn't really into American football, only watching because his brother is a wide receiver in the second string. And though he isn't a fan, he'll show up at your doorstep decked in school colors and a wide grin. And at the game, you'll sit surrounded by friends, you on the stand in front of him, your head resting in his lap as his fingers run through your hair, occasionally grabbing your hand and pulling you up when your team scores, to cheer along with the rest of the crowd. With flushed cheeks and warm shared kisses, the scoreboard is soon forgotten, and the game is only background noise.

Zayn: He's not a huge fan of sports, so when he asked you to meet him at the football game, it was a bit shocking but you went along, buried under one of his jackets he left in your room last night. Not 5 minutes into the first half, he's tugging on your fingers with a giddy grin, pulling you out of the stands and around the under them, out of the public eye, where no one will see you. No one will see his hands making their way across your skin, lips moving across your jaw, your neck, your cheeks, your lips. No one will hear the words he whispers against flesh, the heated mumbles and rough touches. 

Liam: Crying out cheers while he rushes down the field, you lose your focus on the cheer for a second, watching him push past the other team, down a 30 yard run to the end zone. He throws the ball down to the turf when the referee calls the touchdown, pausing for hugs and slaps from his teammates. He'll throw a fist in the air, before tugging his helmet off, hurrying over to the sideline where you stand, clad in your cheer uniform, hair tied high with that pretty bow he always said he liked. And with a quick kiss to the lips, you blushing at the coos of the other cheerleaders, him laughing at the cheers of his mates and the crowd, he hurries off, not before mumbling out, "for you babygirl"