Niall Horan Imagines

Mini Champion

"I'm so nervous," Niall mumbled, leaning forward as he sat on the first row of the metal bleachers, right in front of the fence that lined the field. He bounced his knee and slid his hands across his face. He didn't need to say anything for you to know he was nervous; it was written all over his face.

"Don't be," You said, placing your hand on his thigh and massaging it soothingly. "You know he's gonna do fine," You added, referring to your son. It was his first soccer match after intense training from his coach, and then a lot of practice at home with his dad. You felt as if he was more than prepared, but Niall, on the other hand, was still a bit doubtful. You'd heard about it all on the car ride to the soccer field, and now he was continuing his rant as you sat on the bleachers, waiting for the match to start. 'It's a tough game when you're first startin', ' He'd say, 'And the players can be mean. I don't want him to get hurt. And I don't want him to get nervous and forget everything he's been taught. ' 

Niall ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back with a sigh. "I guess I oughta just let it play out and see what happens, yeah?" He said, his accent heavy with nerves.

"Yeah," You nodded, smiling softly. In all honesty, you were sure nothing would go too wrong. Even if his team did lose, it was still an opportunity to enjoy and there certainly wasn't any losing in that. 

The match was well into its second half when you and Niall were both on the edge of your seats, watching intently as the teams ran back and forth across the field. Your son's team, all wearing red jerseys, had the ball. Niall's body was frozen as he watched, completely focused. The president could've strolled through right then and Niall wouldn't have even noticed. That's how focused he was on his son's soccer match. "They're not gonna make it," Niall mumbled, glancing at the clock. "Barely three minutes left and that kid can't dribble for shit," He nodded toward the boy that had the ball at his feet, attempting to move with it.

You slapped your husband's arm and hissed, "Niall, stop. He's trying, give him that. And don't forget that somebody here could be saying the same thing about our kid. So shut it."

"They better not be!" Niall snapped, raising his voice as if you just insulted him, "I know my boy can dribble. I'm the one who taught him!"

You rolled your eyes and brought them back to the field just in time to watch the pass that your son received. You and Niall instantly jumped to your feet, and Niall's hands curled into fists at his sides. He started walking alongside the fence, moving with his son. "Go! C'mon, buddy! Bring it in!" Niall shouted, "Bring it in!" Your boy flawlessly traveled with the ball, and you heard Niall chuckle with joy. He was beyond proud. As your son moved down the field with the ball, opposing players tried to steal it from him or stand in his way. But Niall had trained him for circumstances like that, and your son could swerve around other players without a problem. It wasn't until he was extremely close to the goal when everything sort of fell apart. A taller kid from the other team supposedly tripped and knocked your son over on the way, sending the ball out of bounds. His chance of taking a perfect shot, winning the game, had just been ruined and now Niall was pissed. 

The referee didn't make any calls because it was thought to be an accident. But Niall knew otherwise. "Hey!" He angrily shouted from his spot on the bleachers, "He did that on purpose! He did it on purpose, I saw the whole thing!" With the help of his coach, your son slowly forced himself to his feet, limping awkwardly to the side. He was hurt. Niall didn't hesitate to jump over the fence, running straight into the field without permission. A ref tried to stop him, but Niall only shrugged the man away. "That's my son," Niall barked, "That kid just hurt my son!" 

Needless to say, Niall was kicked out of the field for the remainder of the match. He waited out in the parking lot, only getting angrier as time passed. By the time you and your son finally made your way back to the car, Niall was anxiously waiting your return. You opened the back door and let your son slide in, placing his duffel bag in the empty seat beside him. He buckled himself in as you situated yourself in the driver's seat. "Listen, I'm really proud of you, okay?" Niall said, turning to face his son in the backseat. "You did an excellent job. You were the only kid on your team that actually knew how to handle the ball," He paused to chuckle.

"Dad," Your son squeaked, "We won."

"You won?!" Niall exclaimed, so loudly that the people in the car beside yours could hear him. "How?!"

"There was literally forty seconds left and one of the boys on his team managed to kick the ball in from the side. It flew right in. They won with seconds to spare," You explained, rather proudly. 

"I'm so frickin' happy," Niall beamed, high-fiving his little all star. "We have to celebrate. Let's go somewhere fancy for dinner," Niall decided, turning to you.

With a gasp, your son said, "Ooh, can we get pasta?!"

Smiling and backing out of your parking spot, you said, "Pasta it is." And so you and Niall took your son to the best Italian restaurant in town and let him eat all the pasta he wanted. Niall didn't hesitate to brag about his son's talent to everybody he passed, making everyone aware of how proud he was. To top it off, you ordered a big bowl of chocolate ice cream (with sprinkles) for your little guy, watching in amusement as Niall tried to sneak some, only to get swatted away every time.

**Some more Daddy Niall for you :)**