i wish that foot was flexed

The Football Player (A Calum Hood One Shot)

Rating: PG-13/R? There’s some language and content that’s questionable

Requested?: No, but some Calum was needed. As always, request away!

Word Count: 2,087

A/N: I had the template for this sitting on my laptop for like five years and today I found it and thought, “Hey, this is so Calum,” and voila!

It was Friday’s big game. People crowded the stands, wearing school colours and waving flags in every which way. If you were lucky, you got a good view of the field. If you were on of the unfortunate people, you got a good view of some heads. But wherever you were looking, you could taste the excitement in the air.

I, the sister of the starting forward, was one of the fortunate ones. Luke, my football enthusiast of a brother, wanted good seats, so we’d left an hour before the game to crouch on steel seats. My ass was already stiff from the sitting. We were in the front row, looking down at the players like chess pieces

Our school’s athletic field is sort of like a spectator’s stand. It wasn’t quite to the standards of a Quidditch field, but it wasn’t as level as sitting on the grass like the players. I almost missed the days of quivering on a blanket on the dewy grass while watching Luke and his mates kick around the muddy ball.

On the sidelines sat our mascot trying to rally the crowd. But everyone’s eyes were on the captain leading his team to victory.

The Henderson Bulls captain is Calum Hood. Dark haired, muscular, goofy yet charming Calum Hood. Every day he had girls knocking down his door for a date. He was the most popular item on the market, and no one could rally enough money to buy him. He was completely unattainable. Playing alongside Calum were his teammates, including Ashton and Michael. They all had girlfriends. It was like a cheesy teen movie, where if you wanted a boyfriend you dated someone on the footie team.

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Spoilers for TAB.

He was so confident when he’d got off the plane. He knew what Moriarty would do next, he knew his next steps, there was a plan in his head and yet— it disappears here. Everything. The ideas, the plans, it all melts away.

The colour of her door changes from time to time. The first time he faced it, it was red. The shade of cherry, like that damned cardigan of hers. Two years later, he faced it again and found it black. She told him, with a faint laugh and a smile, that she’d fancied a change.

“Hm,” had been his reply. An impolite grunt to show he was half-listening when, in reality, most of his attention was focused on her hand, his eyes taking glimpses as she flexed her fingers against the rounded china of her tea mug, gripping it tight to drink. Every time, his gaze had met the spark and the silver of an engagement ring.

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