Bad Touch TrioxReader
Six hours later you were back at the pool and ready to warm up with your team. Your lovely little trainees were there too, causing your team to snicker and tease you.
"Shut up!" you snapped at them, pulling off your baggy tee shirt and sweats to reveal your tight, black game suit. Your arms stretched back to reach your zipper, but you just kept missing it. You groaned and shouted at the guys stretching in speedos around you. "Somebody do me!"
Across the pool deck, the only three crowd members gasped, though the rest of your team payed you no heed. Except for Mattias, he practically jumped on you. "Gladly," he told you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Holding back a fit of laughter, you turned so your back was facing him and pushed your shoulder blades together. You relaxed when you felt the zipper pulled up to the base of your neck.
Craning your head back, you grinned at him before diving in the water just as the other team arrived. It was your job to unhook the lane lines.
After a few minutes of swimming back and forth, only the ejection lane remained and the small stands where Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis were sitting was crowded with friends and family eager to watch the game.
You didn't bother to get out, only pushed off and began your pre-game as the rest of the guys jumped in with you. After leading your team through pre-game, the captains were called up to meet the ref. While Lovino swam over to the older man clad in white along with Shore's captain, you listened closely to the discussion going on at the other end of the pool.
"Watch out for their set, I hear he's pretty aggressive."
"Their sprinter is a giant!"
"Have you seen their goalie?!"
You grinned and swam to your coach when the ref's called for two minutes.
"Alright, I have Matthew, Lovino, and Ludwig. Ivan, you'll be in goal first. Berwald, I want you sprinting. Alfred, take guard."
The five boys pushed off the wall and to their respective positions. You looked up at your coach and said a single word, "Set?"
He nodded, "Set."
Grinning, you dashed after them, taking your rightful position between goal and trailer. You looked to your left and smiled at the blonde next to you. "So you're trailing today, Luddy?"
His steely blue eyes were locked onto the ref as the man in white prepped to blow his whistle. He managed a nod and a "Ja" before the high pitched tweet of the whistle signaled the start. Berwald shot off the wall, Ludwig only slightly behind, and reached the ball before the opposing team. He pushed it away and towards his trailer before resuming the swim down the pool. Matthew was down in far wing, a useful position for the left-handed boy, and Lovino took position in driver behind him. You smirked as you brushed past your guard, making your way down to the pool.
Ludwig, after receiving Berwald's pass, quickly threw the ball down to set guard, where Alfred had now planted himself. He passed it into you, but you threw it out to Berwald when your defender reached you. The contact-wearing Swede easily caught the ball from it's spot in the air and chucked it into the goal. It only barely missed the goalie's fingertips.
Letting out a cheer, you swam back to the half for lineup. It was now that the opposing set would see your suit. He gasped and froze when the whistle blew. His team shouted at him as they swam to their goal and his guard slapped the water between them.
You smiled sweetly before leaning forward and batting the ball out of his hand. But, just as you were about to knock it from his slackened grip, the ref blew his whistle again. Your (e/c) glare was clearly very angry when you whipped around to see the ref holding his hands in a "T". They called time out.
Groaning, you swam over to your end of the pool and listened to the coach of the other team shouting at his set, to which the dumbstruck boy responded, "She's a girl!"
Their whole team turned around to face you. The boys from your team parted nonchalantly, allowing them to see your full suit.
The bets were now in your favor.
25 minutes and 11 shots later, game was called. 12-0. You.
Everyone pulled themselves out of the pool. The guys gathered around you.
You scored the most this game, so it was your job to be as loud as possible. You cleared your throat. "Shores on three! Shores on three!" You and your team brought your hands in the middle of the large circle you had formed. "One, two, three!"
"What did I tell you?" you sighed, tugging the cap off of your head.
Alfred grinned at you. "You were right!"
At the other end of the pool, the opposing team was pulling themselves out of the water and lining up for the whole high fives and "good game" thing.
Goalies first, then the guys. You always hung around the back, just to get a good look at the other team's faces.
Some seemed bitter, some impressed, and others still dumbstruck.
"Good game," you said, shaking the coach's hand. He nodded at you before walking over to his own team. Grinning, you followed the guys in front of you over to where your coach was sitting. He had a proud smile on his face as he congratulated the team, pointing out both exceptionally good and bad plays. He directed his attention to you.
A smirk played on his tanned face, "Great job, Milo." Your smile grew. "Now, go train your kids."
Said smile dropped from your face. You glared at the man in front of your. "Screw you," you told him before walking over to the stands where your three trainees sat.
"I expect you to be in the pool bright and early tomorrow morning. Don't disappoint me."