#coach x reader

[babyjackdaniels]

[jerseyshoresy]

I Pucking Love You

ANGST, FLUFF

Request for @laserotters ! Reader joins beer league hockey team--never having played the sport. Reilly and Jonesy lend their support, but will it be enough to impress Coach and capture his heart?

Coach x gn!reader

Warnings: language, some suggestive conversation

"What the fuck was I thinking?"

You muttered under your breath as you heard the slams of bodies against glass, your heart plummeting. This was a beer league, right? Why was everyone being so aggressive right now? You were watching your first game as a real hockey player unfold from the bench, not yet being put on the ice due to being the newest member of the team. You were tense as you fiddled with the laces of your skates, making sure they were tight for whenever you were sent into the game. You hadn't told anyone you were a complete rookie when you eagerly agreed to joined the league, your mouth and heart taking over the reigns when your head should've won the battle to keep you quiet. Instead, you had managed to make a complete fool of yourself in a matter of a few days and screw up the one good thing you had going for you. You took another nervous sip of your beer as your eyes scanned the players' bench, the doorways, the crowd for one person in particular—Coach.

The whole reason why you were here in the first place.

But you didn't know if he was going to show up to play, like he was supposed to, or watch from the sidelines and support you, like you wanted him to, after everything that had transpired yesterday. You wished with all your might that Coach believed in you as much as he once said he did.

Your team coach's voice pulled you out of your daydreams. "Y/n! You're going! Get in there!"

You gulped as you gripped your hockey stick tight, your knuckles pulsating under your gloves.

Here goes nothing.

“We’re looking for players for our beer league hockey team. You in?”

Coach had approached you three weeks ago while you were in MoDean’s, hanging out with your friends Jonesy and Reilly.

You almost choked on your drink in surprise but tried to hide it as quickly as possible. "Who? Me?"

You were a bumbling, lovesick mess when Coach spoke with you, walked near you, or even just looked your way. You'd had the biggest crush on the man for years but never wanted to make a move in case he wasn't over the death of his ex wife, Barb, yet. You would much rather yearn from afar than ever risk disrespecting him on accident. However, your refusal to admit your feelings was causing you to be on edge every time Coach was around, making you an anxious wreck.

"Yes, you," Coach said expectantly. "These two idiots are already signed up but we're looking for more talent. I'd love to get you on the ice if you're available."

"O-oh! Yes, sure! I love hockey," you said, your words tumbling from your throat. "When do we start?"

"Perfect! First game is in three weeks. There's practices Saturday and Sunday afternoons, but they aren't mandatory. It's a beer league so you can rely on any hockey skills you've learned from the past and you'll do fine." He clapped you on the shoulder and you tried your best to not keel over from his warm touch.

"Can't wait to see you in the barn, y/n."

"Right, yes, of course. Sounds great," you said as enthusiastically as possible, Coach giving you a small smile before walking away. Reilly and Jonesy exchanged glances with each other before turning their attention toward you, confused looks on their faces.

"Y/n... you've never played hockey," said Reilly.

"You've never even ice skated. That's, like... unreal for anyone in Letterkenny," Jonesy piped in, Reilly nodding in agreement.

"You guys are making me feel so much better." You rolled your eyes. "Besides, I have a few weeks! I can learn all I need to know, right?"

"Not quite."

"Definitely not."

Your friends' voices merged as they made their wariness at your decision known.

"You guys were great at hockey and you're already on the team. Can't you teach me some moves? We can practice every day from now until the first game. Please?" You gave them your best puppy dog impression but they, surprisingly, weren't moved.

"Why don't you ask Coach to teach you? That way, you two can spend some alone time together." Jonesy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Then you can finally ask him out," Reilly suggested, making Jonesy high five him.

"Great idea, boys. Y/n can learn some sick moves and get a sweetie. Sounds like a great plan, boys."

"They'll get hockey sticks in both senses of the word, boys."

"Y/n can hit the puck then hit up Coach to fu-"

"Enough!" you exclaimed, embarrassed by what your friends were shamelessly saying in the crowded bar. "I get what you mean. I don't want Coach to know that I'm new to hockey and if I ask him to teach me, my secret is out. Can you guys please just help me out this one time? If I score in my first game, I promise I'll ask Coach out."

"That'll be two scores for y/n in one night, boys!" yelled out Jonesy, Reilly jumping up and down in excitement with his best friend. You finished your drink and paid your tab to Gail, not wanting to waste time at MoDeans any longer. You had hockey equipment to buy.

Your first practice was a total disaster. The simple task of ice skating was proving to be a lot more difficult than you thought, let alone trying to multitask staying upright while watching a puck fly around and doing your best to guard it from your personal trainers. You went home that day completely dejected until you thought of Coach and how happy he would be seeing you score a point. The potential of being the one to make him scream in happiness during the game was a strong incentive for you to return to the rink the next day, ready to give it your all. By the time the first team practice came about at the end of the first week of your private training, you were confident in your abilities to at least skate well enough while wielding your stick. You were competent enough at the sport now to where your teammates thought you hadn't played in a while but were getting back into it slowly but surely.

The second week of your training with Reilly and Jonesy went tons better than your first week and you were actually getting excited for the team practice to better hone your skills. Saturday's team practice was the best you had done, proving you could take a hit from someone without falling over and losing control of the puck. Sunday's practice, though, was one for the books. Coach made an appearance and your heart was hammering through your uniform. He looked so handsome in his hockey gear, a far cry from the suit he usually wore while coaching. You liked seeing this side of him, infinitely more relaxed while playing the game he loved deeply. You were honored when he chose to partner with you for drills but you found it hard to focus on the task at hand every time you spied Coach's muscles bulging from under his sleeves or when his plush lips spoke your name to get your attention. When you did focus on hockey, though, you were able to keep up with Coach's pace and found yourself on the receiving end of many compliments from your friends and teammates alike, igniting a fire inside you to keep working harder. You were dead set on gaining the skills needed to get that puck in the net during the game, if not only as a promise to yourself to finally ask Coach on a date, but as a testament to your dedication to hockey and unwavering determination in the face of a daunting task.

The third and final week of training before the big game had Jonesy, Reilly, and you practicing your abilities to shoot the puck into the net when there were obstacles to maneuver around. They took turns guarding you, as well as the net, successfully blocking you from making a shot all throughout the week, but by the time Friday came around, you had outsmarted and out skated the both of them, smacking the puck into the net and earning cheers and hugs from your closest friends as you celebrated your achievement.

"That's all we can teach you," said Reilly, "now you just have to remember all of this stuff when you're actually playing."

"But we know you'll do great out there. You had the best teachers after all." Jonesy pointed at himself and Reilly while you let out a laugh.

"Thanks for all your help, guys, I really appreciate it. I would've been completely at a loss without your guidance and hockey expertise."

"Hockey expertise? That's my middle name. Actually, according to my birth certificate it's not, but it should be."

Coach's voice boomed from the doorway behind you, making you jump at the unexpected, but very much welcome, visitor. Reilly and Jonesy packed up their gear and made a quick exit, not-so-subtly hinting at you to enjoy your alone time with Coach by making hearts with their hands and kissy faces. Coach was none the wiser at the shenanigans happening behind his back, which you were grateful for.

"So, what was it those boys were teaching you? If you need more help, I'm here to practice if you'd like to join me."

Even with the cold air of the ice rink enveloping you, you felt your face warm at his willingness to spend time with you. You told him what you and the boys were up to earlier and he hummed in approval.

"I like that you're prioritizing scoring. That's a real winner's attitude, I like that about you."

You tried not to let his phrasing get to your head because you needed to keep a clear mind during this practice, but you couldn't help but feel giddy at the fact that Coach complimented you so freely. No one else seemed to get that treatment; did he have feelings for you that ran deeper than friendship? It was much too early to guess at that, but no matter what, his words meant a lot to you since he was extremely honest so you knew he meant what he said.

"Why don't you show me what you got and I can see what needs improving?"

You nodded and drew in a breath, recalling everything you learned over the past weeks. As you skated around, puck flying across the ice, you did your best to avoid getting blocked by the various hazards placed by Coach as well as Coach himself. He was impressively fast and quite nimble in his skates, not leaving much room for you to find an opening to lob the puck into the net. After a few failed attempts, Coach stopped you for a moment.

"Can I show you a better way to hold the stick while you shoot?"

"Please do, this is getting frustrating."

Coach smirked. "That means I'm doing my job well. I want to see you succeed at the game tomorrow, though, so you have to make sure you can keep calm to barrel through anyone who gets in your way."

"You're right. I get in my own head too much, too often. I just have to have trust in my skills and I know I can do it."

Coach was now standing to your side, holding his hockey stick out. "Put your hands like this... no, like this... yeah, sort of? Keep them lined up like this."

His demonstration was hard for you to understand exactly how your hands should be resting on the stick, but before you could express more of your frustrations, Coach caught you by surprise for the second time that day.

"Would you mind if I move your hands with my own?"

"That's fine," you squeaked out, anxiously awaiting his now ungloved hands to rest on top of your own. His soft skin made contact with you as he gently moved your hands to grip the stick in a new position. You didn't want to know how flustered you looked at that moment. You felt like your entire brain shut down and you forgot how to function as a human for a second, too involved in the lovely feeling of his hand on yours. The proximity was killing you as he held you close, the slight smell of cologne wafting into your nose and making you never want to experience another scent in your life but that one. When he finally let go, your hands felt empty in a way you'd never known before. However, you shook off the feelings of heartache for the man who was so close yet so far from you in favor of whacking the hell out of the black disc in front of you.

"Just remember, be quick and precise with it! You'll want to-"

You cut him off with a slam of the stick on the puck as it went whizzing past him and into the net with breakneck speed.

"Like that?" you asked, a cheeky smile on your face.

"Just like that," breathed out an astounded Coach. "What a great shot. You're a fantastic player. Do that tomorrow and we'll have no problem winning."

"Yay! That's what I was hoping for," you told him, taking a swig from your water bottle. You both decided that you had enough practice, not wanting to over exert yourselves before tomorrow's game. You two sat on the bench together, shedding your skates and talking about your hockey journeys. You heard how Coach got started playing and why he's so passionate about the game, and it made you happy knowing that he trusted you enough to delve into such personal topics. It was now your turn to divulge your history, or lack thereof, with the sport, and you tried your best to be honest but not totally spill your secret. However, Coach's presence relaxed you too much and you found yourself speaking much too freely.

"It's hard to believe I figured this all out just in these past three weeks," you sighed dreamily, your chin resting in your hands as you observed the ice. All of a sudden, your eyes widened in realization of what you said. You prayed Coach didn't catch what you uttered, but you weren't so lucky. You reluctantly turned your head toward him and were met with a look of pure incredulity on his face.

"Wait, what did you just say?"

You wished you could lie your way out of this but it was impossible. You screwed up, big time, and now you have to own it.

"I didn't want to tell anyone that I'd never played before because I really wanted to be on the team," you said sheepishly, "but I have the skills I need for the game, all thanks to Jonesy, Reilly, and you, of course."

Coach didn't seem any bit convinced. "You're telling me that the game is tomorrow and you think you can survive out there after never having played hockey? Are you out of your mind?"

"It's a beer league, Coach, not the NHL," you argued. You were upset that he wasn't taking your progress seriously. He had said himself that you were a great player--why did it matter that you hadn't hashed it out with strangers when you were capable of holding your own against your teammates in practice matches?

"It may be a beer league, y/n, but you're still gonna get crushed out there. Absolutely pummeled. I'm not allowing you on the ice for a few games at least."

"I am an adult, you can't tell me what I can and can't do." Your tone was tinged with venom.

"I am a coach and I know what players should and shouldn't do."

Coach, in his anger, was leaned in toward you, his face infiltrating your personal space. You would've been elated to be so close to him at literally any other time but this. You huffed in annoyance while Coach's peeved expression stayed trained on you as you backed up and crossed your arms in defiance, neither of you saying anything but your expressions were doing all the talking. The large, empty rink was presently feeling much too small as you stared into Coach's narrowed brown eyes.

"I don't need this from you. I'm going home. See you tomorrow."

You grabbed your bag and walked away as fast as your legs could move you without looking too pathetic.

Now it was game day and Coach was nowhere to be found. No one had heard from him all day so it was assumed he wasn't playing. With another person out due to sickness, that meant the team had just the right amount of players to rotate you in and allow you some time on the ice.

Which is where you were now.

Literally on the ice because some jerk on the other team slammed into you.

"This isn't the NOSHO, asshole, take it easy," you grumbled, quickly getting up and back into the game. It was halfway through the third period with still no sign of Coach, and you resigned to the fact that he stood you all up. You were disappointed, to say the least. What was his problem? You didn't explicitly lie to anyone and you were able to (mostly) hold your own on the ice. There was no reason for Coach to be this upset at you for something so silly! You shook your head to clear your thoughts. There was no time to care about something like that when you had a game to win.

By the time the last minute was shown on the board, the teams were tied for points. You still hadn't scored your own point, but you were helping the other members of your team score by blocking players and passing the puck back and forth. For it being your first game, you weren't doing horribly. Jonesy and Reilly were by your side a good portion of the time to encourage and support you, making your heart swell with joy at knowing your friends always had your back.

If only my crush was the same way, you thought to yourself.

The puck had made it back into your possession as the clock quickly counted down. You were skating fast and hard down to the net, utilizing your training to avoid the players actively trying to block you. You sped around them, completely focused on the monumental task in front of you.

"SLAM IT IN! SHOW 'EM HOW IT'S DONE!"

Coach?!

You were stunned to see his figure up against the glass, slamming on it with his palms. His arrival was enough to kick yourself into gear, ready to prove your worth as a hockey player. You took in deep breath, making sure your hands were positioned just like Coach taught you. Without hesitation, you brought your stick back and rammed it forward right as you got hit from behind by an opposing team member. The puck went flying through the air and landed neatly behind the goalie as the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game.

You just won!

As the crowd went wild, your teammates rushed over to you, cheering for your impressive game winning move. The exciting moment of victory was over as quick as it began, the rink clearing out in a hurry as people had better things to do on a Saturday afternoon than celebrate a beer league hockey game. It was once again quiet as you collected your things, ready to get home and take a much needed shower. You were currently putting your skates in your bag when familiar shoes entered your vision.

"Why weren't you here earlier, Coach?" you asked, hesitating to meet his eyes out of disappointment, but your love for him was stronger than your dismay. "We were all worried."

His brown eyes held an uncharacteristically soft gaze toward you as he spoke.

"I couldn't stand to see you potentially get hurt and not be able to protect you," he confessed, a blush lighting up his face, "but that's all part of the game, I guess. I thought it was best for me to sit this one out and let you experience hockey as it should be. I wish you would have told me you never played before so I could have taught you everything you needed to know to stay safe out there but... it seems like Jonesy and Reilly really pulled through for you. You played well today, I'm proud of you, y/n."

You didn't know what to say. You couldn't fathom that was the reason Coach didn't want you to play. The normally brash, aggressive man was standing in front of you, blushing, meeker than a mouse, and telling you he wanted to protect you. Did that mean...?

"I really like you," you blurted out. "I have for the longest time and I promised myself I would ask you on a date if I scored today so that's what I'm doing. Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

If you were shocked at Coach's admission of why he was MIA most of the day, he was triple the amount of shocked at your question-- you could tell by the way his mouth hung open before he sputtered out an answer.

"Oh! Well, I haven't been on a date since my beloved Barb left me alone on this earth... but I like you too, y/n. A lot. I'd love to join you on a date."

You exhaled a sigh of relief. "Wanna meet at MoDean's later tonight? I heard it's open mic night."

Coach's eyes lit up. "I'll bring my ukulele. See you there?"

"See you there," you said in agreement, a wide smile never leaving your face. You would have never thought that this day would come, but you were overjoyed that you gained the confidence to ask out the Coach of your dreams. Tonight would be the perfect ending to the perfect day.

You'd better pucking believe it.

[barbedbetty]

Welcome Home

The Coach x f!Reader

Summary: You surprise Coach at home.

Warnings: 18+, slight praise, SMUT, P in V, little rough, oral (fem receiving)

I had only been in London for a few years, but oh what glorious years they’ve been. I’d come here for a temp job in a marketing firm and when I fell in love with the city, I was looking for a permanent job. That’s when I found the Coach.

He wanted someone to help his gym with the marketing and I was eager to join his band of misfits.

Week later, I got the job.

Month later, he took me to dinner.

Six months later, and we moved in together.

He was a couple years older than me but it didn’t matter to us. He’s kind, sweet, thoughtful, and oh so gorgeous.

Today was my day off, so I decided to make his favorite meal. I also decided to wear a red dress he absolutely loves to rip off of me. A cute little number that hit me mid thigh, it has a red satin slip and slightly darker red lace on top with capped sleeves.

I was just pulling the roast out of the oven when I heard the door open.

“Evenin’ luv.” I shouted over my shoulder as I set the food up on the table.

“‘Ey luv.”

I turned and he was sighing as he dropped his keys on the coffee table and unzipped his jacket. His back was to me and I smirked realizing he hadn’t seen me yet.

I tiptoed behind him and rubbed his shoulders.

He groaned and let me rub his back for a moment before he faced me.

“Yous wouldn’t believe the d-“ he started but when he saw the dress he froze.

“Oh my days.” He grinned as he reached out to grab my hips.

He smirked and looked up and down my body.

“Could kill a man in that getup, luv.” He leaned down and kissed at my neck. I smiled and tilted my head aside, purring at the burn of his beard against my skin.

“Maybe I should take it off,” I whispered and felt more than heard him moan as he pulled me closer and sucked at my pulse making me gasp. “Don’t-dont want to kill you.”

He chuckled and I felt his hands push against me and roughly rub down my body to the back of my thighs and pick me up.

He pulled his lips away from my neck and I took the chance to kiss him as he carried me to the table.

I pushed of his jacket properly and he took his glasses off and tossed them aside. I was working on pushing his shirt up when he looked behind me at the table.

“I see you made my second favorite meal, darling.” He smirked at me as he reached up and grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head.

I paused for a moment and looked behind me at the food.

“But-I thought-“

Suddenly

I felt his hands push up into my skirt and he yanked me forward. I yelped at the motion and turned back to see him drop to his knees and lean forward to nip at my thighs.

“Coach.” I moaned as he tugged my thin red panties to the side and traced his tongue up my slit.

I threw my ear back and cried out as he licked my folds. Gripping the sides of the table so hard I thought the cheap wood might splinter.

I felt him moaning as he pushed his tongue inside me for a moment, letting it flex and wiggle enough to make me feel a rush of pure euphoria before he replaced it with his thick digits.

“Thassit, sweetheart.” He panted in his thick accent. “Give it to me.”

He pushed his head forward again, licking circles around my clit making me see stars.

He was gripping my skirt tightly in one fist and staring up at me so intensely, it was too much. His fingers knew exactly where to touch me and I’m embarrassed how quickly I came, shouting his name for him.

He gently licked at me till I could breathe normally. He still had his fingers inside me and as he stood up he pushed his palm onto my clit making me gasp and grip his shoulders.

I must’ve looked a mess, but he stared down at me like I was the only person in the world.

I moaned and whimpered as he ground his palm against me.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he said in a low tone. “In every room of this fucking flat.”

I shuddered and wrapped my arms around his neck nodding.

“Please, Coach.” I begged and purred as the pleasure started to make me feel bold. “I need you inside me.”

“Do you, now?” His lips quirked up a little as he grabbed the back of my neck with his free hand and started thrusting his fingers roughly inside me again. His accent was getting thicker and rougher and I knew he could feel the effect it had on me.

“Yes, yes!” I cried out as another orgasm started to build. I circled his hips with my legs and tried to pull him closer and raced my hands to his pants fumbling to get them down.

“Thirsty for it, darlin’.” He chuckled and groaned when I finally gripped his thick cock in my hand.

“Absolutely.” I whispered as I started to stroke him. He groaned and leaned down to kiss me deeply.

He stepped forward and knocked my hand away as he stroked himself, he pushed the tip of his thick hard cock against my folds and I shivered at the sensation.

“D’ya know what I love about ya, darling?” He asked as he pushed his cock against my pussy, I could feel my opening pulsing for him but he didn’t push forward anymore.

“Please.” I whimpered staring up at him.

“Shhh, luv.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Let me tell ya.”

He grunted as he thrusted in slowly, I threw my head back and moaned trying to push my hips towards him. He held my hips in a harsh grip, not letting me move at all. Once his cock hit my cervix in the most delicious way he started speaking again.

“I love-“

I grabbed his shoulders and yanked him closer, I whimpered as I flexed my pussy as tightly as I could around his cock. His eyes widened and his back went rigid as his length flexed inside me.

“If you don’t fuck me right now, Coach.” I panted as I kept flexing myself around his dick. “I will scream bloody murder.”

He smirked as he snapped his hips forward making me arch my back, gasping.

“As you wish.” He growled as he thrusted hard and fast, making the table shake beneath me.

I cried out and moaned, digging my heels into his ass to force him deeper inside me.

He gripped the back of my neck again and grunted and growled as he thrusted so hard and fast, I could barely catch my breath.

“Ya said ya wanted ta fuck.” He growled as he yanked my head back and started mouthing at my throat like a wild animal. “Gonna fuck ya till ya beg fa me ta stop.”

He grunted as he started slower but deeper thrusts, i clawed at his shoulders and chest but the new angle made him feel so much deeper I could barely think.

“Co-“ words seemed to fail me, all I could do was moan and cry out when he pushed his cock against my g spot making my spine tingle with an impending orgasm that might make me blind but I didn’t care.

I loved it when Coach got feral on me.

“Come fa me, luv.” He grunted as he snapped his hips faster. “I’m gonna come so deep youll feel me fa days, luv.”

“Days.” I repeated in a deep purr and started to shake feeling my own climax coming.

“Say it again.” He groaned as his rhythm faltered.

“Feel-,” I moaned squeezing my eyes shut. “Feel you for days Coach.”

He asked me to say it again but all I could register was the blood rushing through my ears and the wonderful, biting, freezing feeling of my orgasm begin in my toes and rushing through my body making me release a scream I didn’t realize I was even releasing at first.

I felt him come deep inside me less than a second later, he kept pumping his thick cock as he came. I opened my eyes and caught him watching me intently as he shivered and panted like he had just run ten miles.

I licked my lips and Coach groaned and leaned down to kiss me, his tongue tracing my lips before nipping gently at them.

He smiled as he pulled away and ran one of his hands through my now messy hair.

“God I love ya, baby.” He chuckled as he leaned in and kissed me again. I giggled and moaned softly which he greedily stole from my mouth.

He pushed his hands under my thighs and picked me back up.

“Where are we going?” I giggled.

“Shower, luv.” He grinned as he nipped at my skin.

“But the food!”

“Don’t ya worry, we’ll get ta it eventually.”

[way-2-bored]

Isaac and Y/N : (arguing)

Y/N : I swear, if you don't shut up, I'll shut you up myself!

Isaac : What're you gonna do, bite me?

Y/N : Nope

Y/N : (picks up lunch tray and slaps it across Isaac's face)

Isaac : (falls) You bitch!

Scott : What the hell Y/N?!

Erica : Nice one!

Erica and Y/N : (high five)

Bonus -

Coach - You're my best lacrosse player, and my favorite student, but I'm gonna have to give you detention

Y/N - I understand

Coach - Lahey, detention for you too

Isaac - What? She hit me!

Y/N - And I'd do it again

Coach - That's my girl

[sinofwriting]

Darling - Coach

Words: 256

Summary: Coach has a story to tell her after the whole Mickey Pearson debacle. 

“Boy, do I have a story for you, Darling.” 

“Tell me.” She whispers.

His lips quirk into a smile before the events of the past few days come back to him. “The boys robbed Mickey Pearson. Because it would be my boys, y’know? They’re good lads, real fucking good. But my god, a box of rocks is smarter than them at times.” 

As he tells the story, he feels the pressure that had been weighing him down slowly lifting it off, until all the words have left him and there is no more weight on his shoulders related to Mickey Pearson. He had done Ray a favor killing those two men and had been promised that he and his boys would be left alone.

“You’re getting into so much trouble.” 

He laughs, “I'll be alright. Always am.” 

She doesn’t say anything and it has him reaching out and squeezing her hand. 

“It’s alright, darling. You’ll be out here in less than a week and keep me on the straight and narrow.” 

She shakes her head. “Just want you safe. Couldn’t keep you out of trouble if I tried.” 

“I’ve gotten better!” He protests, smiling when it makes her laugh. 

“And these last few days?” 

“Not my fault.” 

She makes a humming noise, but doesn’t say anything else. Her eyes are already starting to flutter shut as she struggles to stay awake. 

Standing up, he bends over the bed and presses his lips to her forehead. “Go to sleep, darling. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Masterlist • Ask • Ko-fi

[ithecrystaldragonheart]

Supa Strikas Reactions to Klaus, El Matador, Coach and Blok Having an S/O

Klaus

-No one believes him

-Everyone thinks he made you up because Klaus does have a history of making things up/lying to look cooler

-It frustrates him to no end and he literally shoves his phone into their faces yelling “SEE?!SEE THAT HEART EMOJI?!“ until they’re like okay, dude, chill

-Even when he introduces you to the team El Matador is convinced you’re an actor he hired

-They tease him of course but what do you expect,don’t worry they think the two of you are cute

-Probably won’t meet them much at first but you can probably score some high-fives and fist-bumps

-You definitely get roped into his hi-jinks however and will either need to call the team or be called by them to check on his well-being and/or whereabouts

El Matador

-They are very aware and it’s extremely annoying

-He’s constantly texting and giggling, taking more selfies than usual(which is an achievement in of itself) and So.Much.Bragging

-Coach is completely correct in thinking he’ll be distracted because he is and wants to hog the spotlight more and practice showy tricks to impress you

-Honestly, no offense to you,but this has happened many times before and they just think it’s another fling and waiting for overly dramatic lament that follows a break-up

-Considering El Matador’s track record they’re genuinely surprised when they find out out that you aren’t a celebrity or the hottest supermodel this season or something like that

-You call him Carlos and any of them within hearing range will be like what

-Also they will have plenty of chances to get to know you considering that El Matador pays for the tickets, travel and accommodations so you can come to every single one of (his)their games

-He begs Coach to let you travel with them on the Strika Jet and of course he refuses, though somehow he will manage to do it but until then you’ll have to be content with his private jet because of course he has one

-It will become a thing where the team jokes about liking you more than your boyfriend and might invite you without him a few times to his shock and indignation

Coach

-When??How???

-They genuinely can’t figure out where he found the time because if you haven’t noticed the man is faithfully married to his job

-Just wait until you call him David in front of them, someone will faint (probably El Matador)

-There will be jokes about you being the Cool Parent despite you not being in any position of authority over them, probably because you manage to get Coach to be like 7% less strict

-It was clear you truly loved him because otherwise you would not have stayed on the boring bus tour with him

-Sidenote, that’s probably the first time you’ve seen him cry actual tears

-As stated before he practically has no life outside of work so aside from long-distance you’ll likely be going to as many Supa Strikas games as you can to support your man

Blok

-Most likely they won’t know you exist aside from Shakes because they can’t understand what he’s saying on the phone until you’re either introduced or they ask who the person in his lock-screen is

-El Matador just knows that he’s telling you embarrassing stories about him but he can’t prove it because you and Shakes deny it so the others just write up as his oversized ego and need for everything to be about him

-The guys already knew he was a teddy bear but seeing him with you is a whole new level and he doesn’t know what they’re giggling about when he gets you an oversized teddy bear as a present

-Don’t be offended if a side-plot about your faithfulness being questioned happens at some point like some kind of cliche romance (which El Matador probably loves and actively leads along with Klaus) because that won’t be the weirdest thing to happen if you hang out with these guys enough

[yikeswtfmate]

main masterlist

Anon asked: Hi! Can you do 29 from your prompt list for Coach x Reader? It could be Coach’s dialogue, but it might be more fun for the words to come out of Reader’s mouth and for Coach to get adorably exasperated.

29. Well we have two options, both of which you’re not going to like.

[warnings: language; references of violence]

Coach can literally not do anything more in that moment than to look at his girlfriend incredulously. She’s currently perched on top of the kitchen counter, dangling her feet back and forth, a sheepish smile on her face. The string of her top is falling over her shoulder, but he will not let himself be distracted by that at the moment.

“Exactly what are we going to do now, if you don’t mind?” He asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The same bare shoulder raises quickly. Y/N pops her gum, a huge balloon that bursts right on her face, making her yelp. Coach lets out a long breath and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down. It’s a difficult feat, considering how much he hates heat waves. A bead of sweat trickles on his forehead, and he seriously couldn’t have asked for a worse moment for this to be happening. He just wants to go back to work.

“Well we have two options, both of which you’re not going to like.”

Her fuchsia painted toe nudges the massive belly of their plumber, causing him to fall over on his back. Poor sod has been unconscious ever since Y/N’s called him home from the gym, with no signs of waking up. Coach is not jealous of the splintering headache he’ll have when he wakes up. Although he’s never (thankfully) been on the receiving end of his girlfriend’s bat, he’s (unfortunately) seen the damage it can cause too many times to count now.

“Y/N, we both know pretending we’ve all been hit unconscious by a burglar is bollocks.” Coach mutters, as he crouches down to look at the man, trying to assess the damage. No blood, which can only mean she was more irritated, than vengeful. “And we’re not going to just kill him.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Coach would be more worried about her complete lack of remorse if it would be the first time something like this happened. Incidentally, it’s not.

“What did he even do?” He asks, even though he has an inkling he doesn’t really want to know.

“He kept grumbling that I must’ve thrown some shite down the sink for it to be that clogged. And he didn’t like my lemonade.”

“Fucking Christ, Y/N, you can’t just knock people unconscious because they annoy you!”

She shrugs again, but wouldn’t offer any kind of excuse. “He also kept staring at my arse.”

Coach raises an eyebrow, and he suddenly feels too warm for an entirely new reason. He steps around the wanker, until he’s standing right next to Y/N’s bare legs. Her shorts are so tiny, it’s a wonder they cover her underwear. That is, if she’s wearing any. A warm hand on her thigh and she stops her shifting.

“I’ll sort this out.” He says, kissing her temple.

“Thanks, babe. You’re the best. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She says with a quick peck on his lips.

“Yes, you will. But stop knocking people out!” He shouts after her as she skips out into the garden.

Y/N sticks out her tongue and he watches her, thinking that he can’t blame the poor tosser. She does have a great arse.

[babyjackdaniels]