Bad Touch TrioxReader
Sure enough, 30 minutes before your practice ended three boys in sweats and T-shirts sluggishly made their way onto the pool deck.
Someone shouted at you. “Yo Milo!”
The ball was in the air, arching towards you. Quickly, you twisted around your defense and stretched your arm up, catching the ball in the palm of your hand. Looking around and, seeing no one was open, you smacked it in front of you, driving forward until you were at the goal. A quick wet shot and you were lining up at the half again.
For the rest of practice, you and the team scrimmaged, ending when the coach called for sprints again.
Lovino, Matthew, Yao, and Mattias did not last long, like usual, but this time Ivan got a bad start. You whipped away from the lane line and ended up just ahead of the large Russian, as well as Alfred.
Grinning, you pulled yourself as close to the wall as possible, tensing your legs to spring off of the wall. The whistle blew and you shot through the water. You released all of your pent up energy in a final burst, sprinting over to the lane as fast as you could.
“Go get your towel,” he was smirking at you, “Ludwig and Berwald will finish cleaning up.”
Floating on your back, you took a few deep, shaky breaths, grinning like fool. “Finally!” you gasped, causing the guys to chuckle at you.
After closing your eyes for a second, you felt a heavy weight land on your stomach.
Yao had his elbow resting lightly on your stomach, content with just floating there.
Smirking, you let your head fall back into the water. “Hey.”
Reaching above your head, your fingers brushed up against the edge of a ball. Yao seemed to notice this, and tensed dramatically on your stomach. Peeking down at him, you saw a look of pure concentration on his tanned face. Finally, you felt your fingers snag under the ball.
Quickly, you flipped up, taking Yao with you when you swung your arm forward. A solid sounding thunk resounded on the pool deck as the Chinese man smacked your elbow, hoping to impair your shot.
The ball left your hands and you watched it sail through the air towards the goal. A loud bang startled the three boys in the bleachers as the heavy ball made contact with the metal goal post. “Damn!” you shouted, shoving the grinning Chinese man off of you, “Get off, I have work to do.”
Languidly, you swam over to the edge of the pool closest to your students and hung off of the wall. “Do a lap of lunges. I’ll meet you over by the showers.”
The three guys groaned, but ditched their bags on the bleachers and began making their way around the pool. Not rushed in the least, you swam over to the ladder at the other end of the pool and pulled yourself up. You lazily dried your hair as you watched the boys lunge. Antonio seemed the most focused, though he would pause and talk to Gilbert whenever he got too far ahead of his friends. Gil seemed pretty fit, but his lunges were sloppy and wouldn’t do much to improve anything. Finally, there was Francis. The drama queen was groaning and complaining the whole time, but by the time he made it to where you stood, he’d done the best lunges you’d ever seen.
Expectantly, they lined up in front of you, waiting for your next order.