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sentientcave · 2 months

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The Good Ol' Rugby Game

It's the middle of the so called "work week" and you know what that means:

IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY

I was thinking about Rugby AUs because have you seen the thighs on those lads? But I don't know anything about Rugby tbh this is just vibes and thots. Something somethin elaborate rituals. But it's also fun. Pardon my errors I wrote most of this on discord today

Reader is a trans man - No name but he's referred to as Ripper by Simon and Johnny because they think he's like a little terrier/ankle biter on the pitch (It's a pitch for rugby, right?). And he is.

Contains: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of rugby, takeout food, Johnny and Simon, bros being bros, you know how it is

You've won.

It takes a minute for the cheering to register, for you to realize that the whistle's been blown and the game is finished, and by the time you do realize, you're in the air, brawny arms hooked around your middle, flying until you hit the ground hard, Johnny on top of you. "Fuckin' beautiful!" He shouts, his voice hoarse. And then an even heavier weight drops down on the two of you, squeezing all your air out.

"Brilliant, lads," Simon growls, knocking his forehead against yours. "Fuckin' perfect play."

"Riley, you're going to break me if you don't get your fat arse up," you grouse. "You too, Tav. Fuckin' muppets."

"Aw, love you too, Ripper," Johnny lands a wet, sweaty kiss on the side of your head before he shoulders Simon off the two of you and pounces on the giant, kissing him on the mouth with zeal.

You get up with a groan, your whole body one big fucking bruise. "Shoulda picked football," you complain to no one in particular. "I'm going to feel this forever."

Johnny swats at you blindly as you limp off, somehow managing to connect, his hand a guided missile that's only capable of targeting asses.

It’s just an amateur league— You know that, everyone on both sides of the pitch know, but it feels like your neighbourhood never got the memo. As the seasons gone on, more and more people have been showing up, wearing green and white, and when you go out to the pub after games, you never have to buy your own pints. It’s almost like being a girl again, except now you feel at home in your own skin, and the only person that tries to grab your arse is Johnny.

You know it’s Johnny and Simon that everyone’s there for, and you don’t care— You’re proud of your huge friends. They joined the league a little after you did, newly retired from the military, both of them with too much energy and muscle and training to not play some kind of sport. And they rope you into training with them. Runs with Simon so early in the morning it’s still practically dark, running drills on free afternoons in the park, tagging along to the gym and watching Johnny lift insane amounts of weight. It’s more fun than you think you’ve ever had.

You’re definitely a third wheel, but they’re good about it, obviously together but obviously wanting you around, careful to include you.

And it feels good to be one of the boys.

You grab your bag from under the bench and head off the pitch, eager to go home and shower the grass stains and flecks of someone else’s blood off of you, maybe curl up with a pint of dark beer and a pint of chocolate ice cream. Everyone’s likely going out for drinks, but you’ve been jostled around plenty for the day, head still ringing a bit from an elbow you took to the side of the head during a scrum.

“Hey, Ripper,” Johnny yells after you. He has lungs, even after a game of shouting himself hoarse. “Ye comin’ to tha pub?”

“Nah, not tonight,” you shout back. “Can’t be arsed. Goin’ home to order a Chinese.”

He’s about halfway deflating, and perks back up at the mention of greasy take out. “Order for Si ‘n’ me too, aye? We’ll be round in an hour.”

“Alright!” you call back, because that’s easier than shouting across a crowd that you were really looking forward to cozying up in front of the tv and— Oh, right. “Bring beer!” That saves you a stop on your way home.

You get home and scramble to clean up a bit-- Johnny doesn't mind a bit of mess, but Simon will stare at clutter like it personally offends him (because it does), or worse, just start tidying up. He always tells you you're not as bad as Johnny, but it's not much of a consolation. Half the mess is your roommate's anyway, who is at her girlfriend's for the weekend, again. It likely won't be long till she moves out, and you'll have to leave your cozy little spot. But at least you now have large friends to help you move.

That done, you order takeaway and pop into the shower, tossing your sweaty uniform into your hamper, and you're just getting dressed again when someone knocks at your door. You nearly forget to tuck your packer into the pocket you've sewn into all your boxers, remembering only as you almost reach the door. If anyone on God's green earth will notice that you suddenly don't have anything in your pants where you usually do, its Johnny.

"Takin' ages," he complains when you finally do answer the door. Behind him, Simon is paying for the takeout, making the delivery man look so nervous it would be funny if you didn't feel bad.

"Didn't have pants on yet. And Si, you don't have to--" He shoves the paper bag at you, cutting you off. Okay. Fair enough.

Johnny kicks his boots off haphazardly at the door. Simon takes his off neatly and sets both pairs neatly to the side.

Johnny's already in the kitchen, stowing beers in the fridge, then banging cupboards open and shut looking for plates. You'd think he'd remember by now, but he never does.

"You guys didn't have to skip the pub, you know," you say, unpacking the bag of takeout on the coffee table. "Everyone'll want to congratulate you."

"S'no fun without our little Ripper," Johnny says, tossing you one of the few beers you did have in the fridge, grinning. "Wouldn't even bother with the league without you."

"Don't be ridiculous," you say, laughing. "You guys are good. Best we've got."

#WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEE #I'm gonna learn about Rugby I promise #I just haven't yet #In this part they're mostly not playing rugby anyway #Johnny and Simon find a scrappy little dude and are like “Oh we're keeping him forever”#Johnny would also absolutely notice if Ripper forgot his packer tbh #“Hey Ripper where's ur cock?” Just like 👀🤔#cave writing

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