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The Rugby Players (1)

Part of the TS Sports AU

A series of short fics telling the tale of a found family of all star sports players competing in competitions across the globe

Words: 1,029

Ships: Morolo, Apaceit, Jamil

~~~

To say that Alistair was tired couldn't have been more of an understatement. In all honesty, he felt prepared to drop dead then and there, and never wake up again, and it was a tempting concept. However, the blinding smile he got from his Dec as they locked eyes in Heathrow in the wee hours of the morning was enough to keep him going. He nodded in response to the vague mumbles he'd assumed were questions, and kept his sheer exhaustion concealed until they returned to the car, where he promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.��

He awoke the next morning, bleary, but feeling a lot better. According to Dec, who had been tangled in his arms and legs and still half asleep as he mumbled his recount, they had tried to wake him when they had reached the hotel several times, but to no avail, and had eventually resorted to carrying him inside, where they got several very suspicious looks. He'd laughed at that, and Ali couldn't help but fall a little bit more in love with his sunshine smile and his laugh like the warm summer days he spent completely content with his own existence. He spent quite a while thinking about it, before he was dragged back to consciousness to answer the door to a disgruntled Logan, with Roman still clinging to his torso in his pajamas. Judging by the weight on his back, Ali had the matching set. 

There was an exchanged fond, exasperated look as the two parted ways to deal with respective boyfriends who couldn't handle mornings. By the time they eventually all got downstairs, it became obvious that Emil has been up for hours, as he seemed alert and aware as he read his book, ignoring the icy looks the two groggy outliers were giving each other. Jay, with his refusal to participate in a sport, attempting murder by glaring on Emily, the only girl of the group, and easily the youngest at just 15. Roman hooked an arm round his brother to pull him to the buffet table, in order to prevent the ensuing massacre that was inevitable at this point. They were an odd bunch, Ali thought for not the first time, but he wouldn't have anyone else.

Nobody saw Castor until it was time to go, already dressed in kit, like Ali. There was something about the uniform that made his usual business-like appearance seem more dangerous and threatening than it was. It had always unnerved him how different he looked, like two completely different men, but he was the only one who saw it. He was the only one who saw a lot of things, but the regular trips to a place in Chelsea, London seemed to help. 

The day seemed to go by so quickly. They arrived before most others, split up as usual, and the two players moved to the field, taking the free time as opportunity to practice. Ali felt the stares, the insecurities bubbling and he and Castor performed with their stereotypical brute force and cunning calculating that saw them through so many games. With a smug grin that seemed to permanently coat his face, he nodded to Alistair, who nodded back. They moved deliberately, taking off their helmets to pretend to talk. They were too far into the field for anyone to hear that no words came out, but a few people took notice of the tousled hair, the glistening sweat. He thought that the last straw must have been when he yawned, exposing his chiseled midriff. He definitely heard Patton gasp in what he called Patton's Proud Papa Noises, and Dec went noticeably red and ducked behind Roman's back to calm down. He loved getting a rise out of Dec, which made it very hard for him to come to games.

Alas, the whistle blew to bring the players in, and the two disappeared inside, where they met with their team, and listened closely to the briefing. He could hear the crowd growing, hear the kind of mumble only achievable by layers of jumbled, incoherent voices speaking over each other, and it only served to swell the growing sense of dread in his stomach.

Despite that, the game went so fast he barely remembered it all. He knew that he and Castor worked on absolute tandem due to their intense training together, and that any opposition was crushed, attack or defense. They never stood a chance against the combined strength and knowledge of The Village Boys, as they were known. Sort of an urban legend, but when the two played together, it was like they shared a mind. Of course, that started the joke that the Village was one big hive mind. 

Oddly enough, that particular joke got a harsh reaction from the higher ups, and several lawsuits that were claimed to be uncorrelated were dished out, but everyone was sure it was just the company saving face for the recovering athletes. People still took to calling whoever got sent to the Village as The Marked Ones, and more conspiracy theories popped up here and there.

All Ali remembered was try after try after try, an impact with another player that left him feeling really dizzy, and the taste of blood, before waking up in the hospital. Apparently he'd suffered a concussion and had been taken off the pitch immediately after collapsing over the try line. The others had joined him, he numbly noted. Even Castor, spattered in mud and ruddy cheeked, but they all looked unmistakably worried. Dec especially, he looked positively sick, and clung to Ali's hand far tighter than necessary.

Ali wasn't one for talking, much less apologising, but apologise he did. He couldn't help but feel he'd disappointed them in failing to complete the tournament. Castor in particular told him that it was not the case, but the others were quick to reaffirm it. 

"Oh, and guys?"

"Thanks. You know, for staying. You could have left, but you didn't. So, thanks."

He didn't miss Dec's tears, and wiped them away with a soft thumb, smiling uncharacteristically gently.

"Save the water for tomorrow when you win for me."

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The Gymnast

Words: 1,159

Part of a series of short fics telling the story of a found family of all star athletes competing in various competitions and tournaments.

Ships: Apaceit, Morolo, Jamil

~~~

If Patton was honest, he hated travelling in a group. Worrying about the weight of the luggage, making sure everybody had all the right paperwork, and especially in a big group like this, just keeping track of everyone was getting to be draining. He loved his fans so dearly, but if they got approached one more time, he would not be held responsible for the consequences. The others picked up on his irritation, and tried to ease the pressure, but to no avail.

They were headed to Tokyo for Patton's Olympic event, and the general air of excitement kept them all going. Thanks to Jay's connections, they had a private jet to take them straight to Tokyo International, and thanks to a lot of finagling and a 'conversation' between Jay and Emily's new manager, she managed to tag along.

"This is the first time I've left the country in years! I can't believe M managed to convince that icy bastard to let me come."

Dec laughed at that, mussing up her hair, only to be met with complaints. Logan looked over inquisitively, head slightly cocked.

"How is it you've never left the country before now?"

Ali winced, preparing a lethal speech about poverty and privilege, fully ready to defend Emily, when she laughed, like he'd just forgotten his own name.

"Well when I wasn't doing swimming galas, I was kind of preoccupied with formal education, glasses boy. I'm still a kid."

Logan prepared a retort bringing up the fact that she too wore glasses, and thus had no footing to stand on, but the look on her face when Alistair praised her efforts and gave her a high five made him stop short. He made a note to investigate his hypothesis at a later date, as they had arrived at their gate, and were quickly being swarmed by fans.

"Roman, you're popular, do something!" Patton whisper-shouted, looking urgently at the growing crowds, then back into Roman's startled face. His Patton-ted Puppy Eyes won the unspoken argument, and Roman was sacrificed to the masses to keep them at bay until their plane was ready to board.

Twenty painstaking minutes and a lot of apologies later, the group were up in the air and on their way to Japan. Logan and Emily were teaching each other new phrases in Japanese, Roman was preparing for the time difference, Ali had gone with Dec to the bathroom to help him with his vehement fear of flying, and Emil was curled up with Jay on his lap, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, and only focused on their colliding lips. Lucus and Castor had found a secluded corner and gone to do… whatever they did when they so often went off alone, Patton didn't really know. What he did know was that he had a lot of snacks available to him (fellow passengers not included, unfortunately), and twelve hours to fill. So fill them he did, with movies, and a Roman makeover, and learning about the culture from the resident smarty pants.

Upon arrival in Japan, they exited the plane, took a second to adjust to the difference in temperature, and were greeted by a series of cars, ready to escort them to their hotel. Patton could absolutely get used to this. If there was one thing he adored about the Japanese, apart from the adorable food trends, it was how efficient and reliable they could be in formal settings. The group clambered into the cars, and took the time to admire the streets, the colour, and get to know their translators provided by the Olympics team.

The hotel was big, western, and bustling with other gymnasts. Patton's stomach dropped when he saw just how flexible and agile his competition was, especially compared to his slightly chubby physique. He was so distracted that he jolted when Roman put a hand on his shoulder and walked him inside. It did name him feel a bit better to see the jealous looks he got, walking in with a podium finisher on both arms, followed by an entourage of all star athletes, but he made sure to be his full Patton Polite to the receptionist, who seemed eternally grateful. He knew gymnasts, in general, had a habit of stereotypically being a bit haughty and high strung, and knew first hand how tiring it was to deal with them, so the least he could do was give the staff a break.

They checked in with no fuss, and the room arrangements stayed the same as last time, Emily's manager having taken a plane the day before and come ahead. They set down their stuff, and killed time for an hour as Patton got dressed and went to warm up. Jay dragged them through the Harajuku district, and Logan noted that it was the first time Jay and Emily had smiled at each other since the incident, for however brief a moment it was, the two were getting along like old times.

Then the time came for Patton's routine. They took their seats and watched, as Patton nodded to the judges, and began. His routine was a combination of more showy, slightly sensual moves, and impressive flips and tumbles. His technique was not flawless, but the complexity of his routine made up for it, and the execution left every audience member feeling either a little bit more or less straight. Logan had to look away during several parts, face a deep red. Even the judges looked a little more than impressed. This was not what Patton had practised, but he'd clearly put the hours in, because the changes were all very fluid, so it was hard to tell where one move ended and the next began.

Then, all too soon and not soon enough, he raised his arms one final time to signal he was done, and the crowd clapped ferociously. Nobody expected the sweetheart Patton Foster to pull such uncharacteristic moves, but they scored him a solid bronze and an astonished interviewer, both of which he met with his signature angelic smile, but there was definitely a look of knowing there that told the fans he knew exactly what he'd just done. Alas, Patton knew he'd need to smooth out his technique to score higher next time, but he was more than happy to accept his victory, raise his flag high, and bathe in the resounding cheers that followed, looking almost blissful. The internet was going to have a field day, he knew it already, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

The group met afterwards, and Roman scooped up Patton into his arms and swung him around violently, placing kisses all across his face. The only time he paused was when Logan wanted a turn. But, affection was fought off until they were back on the plane, heading back to England for the Rugby world cup finals, where Ali and Castor would be playing tomorrow.

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The Driver

Part of the Sports AU series

Words: 1,244

A short series of fics telling the tale of an all-star found family of sporting champions during competition crunch time. This first one starts off with Logan, a short distance runner.

Ships: Morolo, Jamil, Apaceit

~~~

Roman looked up into his rear view mirror, where he could clearly see the rest of the minivan. Logan had fallen asleep against the window, earbuds still playing some form of techno music. Dec and Ali were playing cards behind him, Emily helping Dec by looking at Ali's cards. Lucus was reading a book next to Emily, and Castor next to him, staring out the window. His eyes dropped back to the road ahead, painted golden by the setting sun.

 It had disappeared completely by the time they reached the hotel they were staying the night at. Patton and Emil had texted to let them know they were already checked in, and to meet them, and Jay, in the lounge area. After several attempts to wake up Logan, Ali resorted to carrying him bridal style, followed by Roman and Emily carrying baggage. Lucus hadn't looked up from his phone, and ended up being gently guided through the door by Castor.

The second Patton saw them, he barrelled towards the group, shouting excitedly.

"Oh my gosh! I saw the competition on the news and he won! I'm so proud of- oh, oops."

Upon realising Logan was asleep, he smiled sheepishly and lowered his voice to a whisper, cooing over him. Emil was the next over, smiling at the group, and even letting out a little laugh at Patton and Emily's antics as they messed about with wide grins, then turned to Roman, with a soft, unreadable look on his face.

"Good luck tomorrow. Jay thinks it too."

Those seven words stunned the whole group into silence. As a chess player, Emil was a man of few words, so the few he spoke were often treasured. The silence was broken by Jay Eudach, manager of the Olympic Village and Roman's elder brother, walking over. The shocked silence took a sharper, measured tone, for the most part. If looks could kill, the one that Emily was giving the manager almost double her height would have ended him five times over. Her words came out like spat poison, an icy edge to rival a glacier. 

"Oh. Hello, Eudach."

Jay's tone matched her's in terms of temperature, but had an imperceptibly softer edge to it, that he'd deny to his dying days. He did not regret his decision, and no amount of icky feelings would change that.

"Reece. I seem to remember firing you, so it's a small wonder as to why you're here. Find a new manager already?"

Dec had to hold Emily in place to prevent her from doing something rash, but the intent was blindingly obvious in her look. In order to prevent a homicide, Emil quickly ushered the group upstairs, to their various rooms. Emil and Jay had a room, as did Logan, Roman and Patton, and Ali and Dec. Emily was sharing a room with her new manager, a floor above them, but promised to meet up with them in the morning. 

Roman was pacing. He looked at the clock. 3:38 AM. Logan and Patton were both fast asleep. He looked at the clock again. 5:47 AM. Wait what. He blinked, making sure he had the time right, then swore under his breath. Since it was obvious that he wasn't going to sleep tonight, he let himself out of the room, and took the lift down to the lounge. He ordered a coffee at the bar, and watched the sun rise from the horizon. 

His 6 AM alarm sent him back up to the room, where the others were just waking up. He couldn't help but admire as Logan and Patton stumbled shirtless round the room, still half asleep. He admired Patton's freckles, and Logan's eyes, and- oh they were looking at him. He made up a half baked excuse, and eventually accompanied them downstairs to meet the others. They were flying in later, so they were having a large breakfast, but warmups started in an hour, so he kissed each of his boyfriends on the cheek, and dashed off, to where the helicopter was waiting to fly him, and later his loved ones, to the track. 

Finally. He felt calmer, bound up in his leathers, surrounded by his helmet. He flexed his gloved fingers, and ran a finger along his favourite car. He revved the engine, and he could never get enough of how it purred beneath his touch, eager to race. He maneuvered onto the track, and began his practise laps, cheering as he felt the rush of the wind scraping under his helmet and clawing at his neck. He smiled at the blush of colours painting the early morning sky. He loved racing.

After came the interviews, and he revelled under all the attention, answering every question thrown at him, smiled into every flashing light, and greeted the lucky fans who got to meet him with a charming smile and a keen ear, giving advice to the younger generation of racers. He was known for being very down to earth and humble, and adored meeting hopeful racers. The thought of inspiring the next generation made him feel indescribable. 

Finally, it was time. He stepped out of the pits, took the last minute questions, and waved to the cameras, grinning at the cheer he heard in response. His smile only grew as he saw his family had taken their places, and the sight filled with newfound enthusiasm. On went his helmet, and he drove up to his starting marker. He focused on the lights, engine at the ready, watching one light, two lights, three four five go green and he was off, half listening to the radio chatter from his pit crew. 52 laps and it would be over for the season. He had to win.

6 laps in, and he was ahead by a full second, eerily silent as he raced, turned, narrowly avoided a pileup, cursing as the safety car pulled out, slowing them down to as slow as their engines were designed to go. 2 more laps, and he was free, tearing ahead. 10 laps, 20, a pit stop to change tires, 30, at 36, he was vying for second place, cursing up a storm at the car in front blocking his every attempt to overtake, whilst narrowly avoiding dropping down to third. 40 laps, 45, a German car had driven off the track, he hoped the driver was okay. 46 laps, 47, 48, another pit stop because it started to rain, 50, 51, he was so close to first place, 52, he could have been done by now, if it hadn't been for the crash, but the laps had to be made up, 53, he was so close, but at 54, he was the second to cross the finish line. He cheered nonetheless, happy to take a podium position. 

He pulled into his pit and took off his helmet, cheering with the crowd. His face was flushed, his hair tousled, and his grin so intoxicating. More interviews, more fans, and by the time he was free to leave, he was well and truly ready for a nap. He met up with the group, and all he got was blissful, understanding silence. They knew he needed to sleep. Needless to say, Jay drove them to the airport, to catch their flight to Tokyo. Tomorrow was Patton's gymnastic events, and they needed to cross the world in a very short amount of time. Thank goodness for private jets.

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And even more:

Dystopia

Youtubers

Punk

Pantheon of Gods

World War 2

1930's Speakeasy

Witches

Sports Stars

Freak Show

HorrorFamily

List of AUs involved

Mafia

Royal Brothers

Hogwarts

Serial Killer

Fusion

Apocalypse

Circus

Avians

SCP

Siren

Superhero

High School

Demigod

Elementalist

Rise of the Guardian

Bookshop/Coffeeshop

Android

Demon x Human

Vampire

FamILY

If you’ve got any questions about these AUs, feel free to send an ask!

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The Runner

Part of the Sports Au Series.

Words: 787

A short series of fics telling the tale of an all-star found family of sporting champions during competition crunch time. This first one starts off with Logan, a short distance runner.

Ships: Apaceit, Morolo

~~~

Competition time was upon the world. Athletes of all varieties, across the globe, were converging on sports centres and stadiums, preparing to demonstrate their skill, all vying for success and victory. In London, the East Village was buzzing with track and field athletes for the Olympic competitions. Due to a disagreement, each Olympic event was being held in a different country. London held dominion over the track events, such as running or  hurdles, and field events such as javelin and discus. 

Logan mingled with his fellow runners, well aware of the whispers and odd looks the other teams gave him. He had a semi-permanent residence in the Olympic Village, a rehab centre for sportspeople who wanted somewhere dedicated to focus on training. He had established a mishmashed family across several sports teams, but outside of the village, had a reputation of being cold and ruthless. He knew the rumours, and felt comfortable keeping the truth ambiguous. 

The PA system crackled with the ever familiar sound of an announcer, who, by the sound of it, had a sock pulled over their head, telling them to move on to the tracks to begin the races. The tension was palpable behind cool exteriors as they walked into the blinding lights of the stadium, immediately deafened by the wild cheers of the crowd. The others turned and waved to their fans, different nationalities forming a patchwork across the arc of seats high above the track. Logan, however, narrowed his focus to directly in front of him, taking his place on the astro turf, adjusting himself to the spring it gave his step. 

He steeled his nerves, and looked up. Decked out in his national flag sat a small group of familiar people. The crowd around them appeared astonished, as the all-star cast of athletes cheered out for Logan, who smiled and waved, stunning anyone who saw. Roman Eudach, formula one star, was spending the last few days before his race at Silverstone supporting his friends. He was accompanied by English rugby captain Alistair Andrelus, British diving champion Declan Dolos, snooker champion Lucus Hypnos, and child prodigy swimmer Rhys Andrelus-Dolos and adopted child of Declan Dolos and Alistair Andrelus. The news teams were going wild for it, and it took the first set of races to draw their attention away. 

Logan narrowed his focus again to the track, his breath even and calm. The ear splitting bang of the gun was his signal, and he set off, eyes locked on the target as he turned the first corner. In his mind, he was back on the practise track. Along the second straight, he caught a glimpse of his new family cheering more enthusiastically than any other spectator present, and it was enough to urge him on faster, along the final curve, and across the finish line. Adrenaline and ecstasy caught up to him and he collapsed to his knees, panting and grinning, but utterly pleased with himself.

The results spoke for themself. Joint first place, to the millisecond, with Egypt's representative. They took their medals, and he graciously accepted his national flag, which he slung over his shoulders as he went to talk to his family, completely ignoring the media trying to interview him. 

"Uncle Logan! You were so fast! And you won!! You gotta teach me how to stay that focused!" 

Emily was the first to call out, full of her famous enthusiasm and volume. She was practically bouncing, only being held back from jumping over the edge by Alistair, who spoke up next.

"Not bad, nerd. Gold medals are supposed to be good for you Olympian nerds."

Declan swatted his shoulder with a mock scowl.

"Ali! Be nice! Anyway, I thought you did great, Lo." 

"I'm not gonna be nice to you upper crust Olympian elitists, and you can't make me."

"Speak for yourself, mud boy."

Roman had to cut them off before they said something they'd regret, but he wasn't too worried. There definitely a spark to their eyes that told him they were going to sort out their issues later, when they were alone. 

He and Logan both were wishing Patton could have made it, but he was preoccupied with his own preparations, and going over his routine for next week's gymnastic events in Tokyo. 

Eventually, Logan got wrestled into an awkward interview, made better when his family joined him, but he was more than relieved to get out of the limelight and go back to the streets of London, where they got dinner, and went to explore. The first day of sporting was complete, but there was still a long way to go. Tomorrow was Roman's final race on the Silverstone track, for the formula one race. 

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Jay, cackling after a particularly evil moment: Hey doll? Come see what I did!

Emil: not you too. Don't do the voice.

Jay: I'm gonna do the voice

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Logan, watching tensions rise: I can't wait for the upcoming movie called Jay murders Roman.

Jay, winking: You'll get front row seats, doll.

Logan, to himself: Cain and Able who?

incoherent, yet frightened Princey noises

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Dec, realising he can't swallow 30 chips at once: muffled shit

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Patton, seeing a column of smoke behind the house, and not seeing Jay or Roman anywhere: BOYS-!

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Jay: Hey bitches, sluts, and nonbinary fucks

Roman: Jay oh my god, first impressions

Jay: Why?

Roman: It's Ali's mother you dipshit

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Dec, about Jay: I do not want mister murderpants murderpantsing me because I touched his pride and joy

Jay: distant offended icicle noises

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Jay: Give me attention.

Emil, not even looking up from his phone: Okay, Johnathan.

*distressed jay noises*

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Roman: Let's go explore this old cave!

Jay: Dumbass. If I die, I’m haunting you first.

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Roman: Quit touching me, your feet are cold!

Logan: Then move closer to Declan, he is literally under every blanket we own, hence why my feet are cold.

Declan: I'm not sorry

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Emil: OH you’re jealous!

Jay: Yes dear, it's my job.

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Jay, butt naked and thrusting at Emil: Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?

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Emil: Am I your lockscreen?

Jay: You weren’t supposed to see that.