#jock!5sos

it always came across as a shock to anyone who took a stroll through your home to see framed photographs of both you and jock!calum - youthful eyes and toothless smiles - with your arms wrapped around one another in a childish embrace because fast forward nearly ten years later and you were lucky to acknowledge one another with a simple head nod, though time often creates rifts between naive hearts. nonetheless, he was the star athlete - a boy who knew how to play the game and knew what to do to score - who everyone seemed to pine after and place on a sort of pedestal that towered over all; you, on the other hand, blended into the background with a lustful urge to flee this suburban hellhole that felt more like a prison than a home. it seemed cliche but more often than not, cliches tended to happen and declaring it as such would be considered a platitude as well. be that as it may, there were two beings - two concepts, ideas - that calum’s mind simply couldn’t fathom: you and french, and yet you were able to comprehend both. whether or not it was his idea, his parents or your professor, you were coerced into tutoring him - leaving you to clean up after yourself in your room and organize every aspect of your life, even stashing away any childhood pictures so that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea - and found yourself anticipating his arrival as a small stack of textbooks stood similar to buildings whilst loose sheets of paper floated to the floor. little ink doodles were smeared beneath your fist and stained your skin, though you didn’t seem to care or notice. by the time he appeared at your front door, you couldn’t help the nostalgia that seemed to hit you like a fucking truck - his soft cheeks and smug smirk with the feeling that he just seemed to belong there, standing in your doorway like he never left all those years but only aged. he cleared his throat and awkwardly stumbled into your house, maneuvering from room to room as though he were there only yesterday, all the while you quietly whistled under your breath and earned a fairly deserved eyeroll. as the two of you sat on your bed - you translating and explaining verb tenses - you couldn’t help but flick your eyes up every so often to see calum’s gaze wandering around your bedroom, inspecting every corner despite never leaving his position and scribbling miniature sketches on crumpled bits of paper - hearts and safety pins and smiley faces and dicks - but it was his snickering that tipped you over the edge. why the hell were you trying to help someone who didn’t give a fuck? you gave a fuck and you were sick of this bullshit. slamming your books shut, you demanded he leave your house - harsh, venomous words fleeing your mouth and practically slapping him in the face - whilst he merely sat on the edge of your bed, eyebrows raised at your sudden outburst; granted, he wasn’t exactly attached to your hip nowadays but this was out of character from what he knew of his former best friend. then again, him now shouting right back in your face - demanding what the fuck was your problem - wasn’t quite how he would act in any other situation. but what gave you the right? holding your head high as though you were above him? but he was the same, wasn’t he? there was a moment, though, when he knew he struck a nerve as your eyes softened and your bottom lip trembled. shit. shit. shit. he shouldn’t have said anything, should’ve just stayed quiet. but you both knew the silence was oddly deafening the longer it lingered between you; and besides, you were sick of the quiet. and he was sick of the game - people pitting one against the other when he knew how he felt; he missed you, no matter if he was willing to confess those feelings aloud. carefully cupping your cheeks, he pressed his ample lips against yours in a hasty kiss - your hand left suspended in the air as you were unsure what to do, what to hold - until on hand found itself knotted in his ratted t-shirt, the other with your fingers curled around the belt loops of his skinny jeans. calum leaned forward, now hovering over your body, whilst both your lips moved fluidly and heatedly against the other - him letting out a small groan when your tongue ran across his bottom lip and lightly tugged at it. this wasn’t weird; neither of you were best friends but you weren’t enemies. and this, this felt right compared to anyone else. like it was meant to happen. his hands roamed your body - one sliding beneath your top and cupping your breast - as his lips brushed across your swollen mouth, now moving to your jawline. then your neck. nibbling at your tender skin, he’d press wet kisses across the marks he’d left behind - often marveling at his work - and pondering out loud how they would look along your chest; face flushed and the corners of your mouth tugged in a mischievous smirk, murmured how lovely his thighs might look if they were red and purple just as yours.

so basically you were on your way home from college, as you were late in the morning you didn’t have the chance to check the weather forecast and it was now biting you in the ass, literally. your mom had taken your car to get the air conditioning repaired so you were stuck with walking to college and then again walking home. sometimes your friends would pick you up and give you a ride home, but of course today none of them had classes with you. a loud crash of thunder sounded from above you, making you jump in fright and place a hand over your heart. “jesus christ, someone is angry up there.” you mumbled to yourself, but once again jump out of your skin when there’s a lightning and another crash of thunder. a relieved sigh left your lips as you finally made it home about 8 minutes later. but the relieved feeling went as soon as it came. you were digging through your bag but couldn’t find the freaking keys. oh no, mondays seriously are the worst days. you decided to just sit on the porch and call someone to change the lock and stuff. realizing that your phone was at 3% you decided to make it quick and googled for a number but someone yelling “hey, you!” all of the sudden made you drop your phone which, of course, fell right into a puddle. “fucking awesome, this was the last thing I needed today.” you muttered, bending down to retrieve your phone from the dirty water and trying to dry it with your already soaked shirt. when this didn’t work you finally looked up, being met buy the guy who lives across the street from you. luke hemmings, none other than the jock from your colleges’ basketball team. you weren’t really friends with him but you guys didn’t hate each other either. let’s just say you were civil with each other, acquaintances. though you wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, he’s not exactly bad looking. “you want to come in or do you wanna stay out there and catch your own death?” he shouted, your feet reacting before you could and seconds later you found yourself in luke’s house.he ended up offering you a hot shower and some fresh clothes, which you gladly accepted and let’s say that luke was more than pleased to see you wearing his clothes. a black and red plaid shirt that was basically swallowing you with some black boxers, it wasn’t extraordinary but it smelled like heaven ((so yeah, like him)) and was warm and comfy. at the end of the night you eventually found yourself cuddled up against his chest, heat radiating off his body as the storm was still going at it outside. who would’ve thought that getting locked out could have such a great outcome?

Michael:

You and your friends were at the bleachers of the football field. You were working on your Science project that had you doing research outside. Suddenly, the football team came out of the locker rooms and started practicing. You wish you could play football because you and your brother play it all the time and you’re better than he, your dad, and your guy friends. Unfortunately, football at your school is only for guys. “Heads up Y/N!” You turn to see a football hurtling towards you. You reach up and casually catch it with no trouble at all. You hear a few ‘damn’s and whistles. The captain of the football team, Michael Clifford, started coming up the bleachers to get the ball. When he got one step away from you, you throw the ball as far away from you as you can. That just so happened to be about 50 yards away. Michael just stands there, stupidly staring at you. “Damn. Did you just–” You laugh at his expression. “Michael, your girl has a strong arm. You’ve asked her, right?” one of the guys on the team yelled. You look at Michael with a confused expression. His eyes are wide open and he looks panicked. “Shut your damned trap, Luke.” “Asked me what?” you asked confused. “I was wondering…” he looked nervous and he scratched his head. “I was wondering if you wanted to go to Homecoming with me and be my girlfriend. I understand if you don’t want to or think that this is some joke, but I swear it’s not. I’ve loved you for a long time. I just have never had the courage to ask you out.” He rambled. “I’d love to go with you-- and be your girlfriend.” His face lit up and he kissed you sweetly and quickly. “See you after practice, babe.” he said and smiled. You blushed and turned back to your project, only looking back up when you heard various butt-slaps and a few ‘about time’s.

Ashton:

Ashton was failing the math class you were both in. “Miss Y/L/N, would you please come here?” Your math teacher, Mrs. Hemmings, asked you one day at the end of class. “Mr. Irwin is not quite passing my class, while you have all A’s, and I was wondering if you could tutor him after school? I’ll give you some extra credit because this is extra work.” she asked. “Yeah, sure.” “Come by after school ends, and he’ll be here.” you nodded and left towards your PE class. The rest of the day was a drag and you could not wait to go home. You went to get your books to go home, but saw a note on the door of your locker: Ashton Irwin -- Tutoring (Hemmings). You groaned and went into Mrs. Hemmings room after all your classes and saw Ashton sitting in a chair drumming his fingers against the desk’s top. “Hi.” you said awkwardly sitting down next to him. “Let’s get this over with.” he muttered avoiding your eye contact. During that time you taught him the Pythagorean Theorem, the distance formula, and perfect squares. It all came to him easily, and you questioned on why he was having trouble. At the end of the session, his friend Calum came and got him for some type of intense baseball practice. Ash winked at you and left. “See ya tomorrow Y/N.”  The next few weeks were nice spending time with Ashton. He eventually became your secret best friend because he didn’t want the “embarrassment”. You hated the idea, but whatever. “You maybe wanna go out sometime?” Ashton asked you one day . “Like on a date?” “Sure.” “As long as it doesn’t humiliate you.” you teased. “It won’t, sorry about that by the way.” “No problem, pick me up at 7:00.” this time, you winked and left the classroom.

Luke:

Luke was a popular football player at your school. You, not so much. You were one day out on the field talking with your friends, one of them who Luke didn’t like so much. Luke and his friends were trying to be funny as he threw the football at your friend’s head. You saw the ball and pushed him to the side and caught it. You smirked, knowing it came in handy that your father was a football fanatic. Luke was gawking at you as you leaned backwards and threw the football back to him. He caught it with ease. “You’re not funny, Hemmings!” you shouted to him laughing with your friends. Later, at your locker, you felt a tap on your shoulder, you turned around and saw Luke standing there, awkwardly playing with his feet. You rolled your eyes and ignored him.  He hugged you around your waist, catching you off-guard, making your clumsy self stumble forward. He caught you before you hit the ground. You looked up and saw he had flowers in his hand. His eyes were looking over towards his friend Calum. You cleared your throat and he looked into your eyes again. He pulled you up and hugged you. You untangled yourself from him, you were uncomfortable. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Luke?” you whispered. “Yeah-- I’m sorry.” His eyes told you he wanted to tell you much, much more than he spoke. “Thank you for the apology and the flowers, so I’ll see you around I guess.” You said and grabbed your backpack and the flowers out of his hand and started walking to your car. Luke thought this was you telling him ‘goodbye’ forever. He swore his heart was breaking. He raced to you. “I love you. About earlier, I just wanted to get your attention, and you know how I’ve been hanging around your friends? Well, I wanted to get to know you more. I love you Y/N.” You stared at him wide-eyed, then leaned up to kiss the corner of his lips and wrote your number on his arm. Now this is the day he likes to look back on. Not because he learned you liked football, not because you two almost kissed, because he told you that day what he never would have had the courage to say.

Calum: