#field goal kicker

[blogtaculous]

Brandon Aubrey is legitimately a star

[the-football-chick]

Periodt.

IG: buffalobills (12/17/22)

[puthyflapps]

Y’all don’t know what it’s like to be me. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to have 30 heart attacks during every Packers game

[lonelybitchversion]

ngl thought this game was gonna end 3 - love

[bottomsdotcom-dot-com]

Bottom 5 Kickers To Have On Your Fantasy Football Team

The NFL Season is about to KICK off tomorrow, but is your fantasy team ready?

It’s (almost) football time! The season kicks off tomorrow with the reigning Super Bowl champs The Kansas City Chiefs going up against the scrappiest team in the league The Detroit Lions. I think most people have their minds made up about which direction this going to go but hey, the Chiefs have somewhat of a chance here! Their kneecaps, not so much. With the real season about to be underway,…

[allpromarlo]

i say this with the utmost respect and love in my heart, CINCINNATI BENGALSSSUHHHHH WHAT HAPPENNNDUHHHHH

[heartmix]

Messed Up - Joe Burrow

Pairing: Joe Burrow x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warning: swearing, mentions of s*x, joe's an ass in the beginning and also dumb, driving while on the phone (focus on driving!) angst but fluffy ending

A/N: cleaned out all my wip and deleted around 50 so i could motivate myself to write more. found this gem while i was cleaning

Masterlist / NFL Masterlist

He didn't mean to make you feel like shit. Really. You were the most understand person in the world especially when it came to his job. If he told you that practice was shit and that the winning drought was getting to him then you would've understood, but he just had to say,

"You're a distraction, you need to stop being all over me I can't focus on work."

That one sentence sent everything into a spiral. He regretted it the moment he said it, apologizing as soon as the last word came out but it was too late. The sad eyes mixed with the anger radiating from your body was evident.

"Hope you can focus for Tennessee." Was all you said before grabbing your phone and rushing to the guest bedroom before joe could get you from not locking the door.

Tennessee being venom on yours lips was a reminder that he had an early flight in the morning for this weekend's game. Of course he had to go and say some stupid shit knowing he wouldn't be able to see you till Monday.

His sleep was absolutely shit. He fell asleep outside the guest bedroom hoping in the middle of the night you'd crawl back in bed or open the door and take pity on him, but you didn't. You slept the whole morning. Even when he had to leave. He screwed up. The texts and voice memos he sent you piled in like a train that morning. In every way he could say sorry he wrote and said. He even made sure flowers and breakfast was on your doorstep before he boarded the plane.

You weren't completely heartless, you knew he regretted what he said, but that didn't change the fact that he said it and looked like in that moment he meant it. Not wanting him to have an even more terrible practice and even worst game you caved into the texts, sending a picture of the flowers with a

'Thank you, it's beautiful. Have fun in Tennessee'

Joe felt a wave of relief seeing your text come in. He knew it wouldn't make up for everything, but at least you weren't ignoring him. He was going to take as much as he could get until he saw you on Monday.

Over the next two days the texts were dry on your end. Just simple replies to his texts and pictures here and there of your day (when he asked). Those two days he was thinking of ways to make it up to you. All of his troubles washed away seeing your Instagram stories before the game. No matter how mad you were you still supported him (even if that wasn't your team).

Bengals got a win off the titans, a close game that was decided by a last second field goal. He was grateful for the strong wind and his kickers experience with wind over Tennessees'. He played a hell of a game, scoring 2 passing touchdowns. Seeing your celebratory stories made him feel even better. He thought everything was going to be okay once he got home.

Sure you loved supporting him every chance you got, but that wasn't the entire reason you posted about the bengals win. It would be suspicious if you didn't. Texts from friends who knew you all to well would roll in with

'you and Joe okay?'

'Joe piss you off?'

'Tired of the bengals?'

You didn't want that. You couldn't handle that right now. You got your anger out of the way and all that was left was irritation. Irritation with what Joe had the audacity to say that to you and Irritation that he couldn't just tell you he wasn't in the mood. He made you feel like a slut and that was the last thing you wanted to feel in a relationship with one of the biggest quarterbacks of this generation.

Monday morning rolled around and Joe couldn't be happier to be home. He couldn't wait to tell you all about the win and hear your praises. He loved hearing your insight after game day, especially over a game he knew he played great in.

When he walked in the house he expected the usual greeting and excitement from you. But it was silent. You didn't work today and even if you did you worked from home most days so you'd take a short break to great him. The whole house was quiet, not even music blasting from the speakers. The more he traveled in the house he finally found you in the walk in closest with your earphones in. You knew he was home evident to the notifications your got from the doorbell camera, you just didn't care to meet him at the door to greet him.

"Hey mamas." You felt his hands snake around your waist as he buried his head in your neck.

"Hey. Great game. The plane ride okay?" You asked pausing the current song so you can show some decadency in paying attention to him as much as you didn't want to.

"Yeah. The win made it easier to fall asleep for a bit." He mumbled in your neck. The reminder that he won hit you right in the chest. Maybe he did win because you weren't a distraction this weekend.

"I bet, at least you got some rest."

"Yeah but now I'm home and I couldn't be happier to be here." All you did was hum at his response as you continued to sort your clothes.

"What are you doing?" He noticed you were making an overnight back.

"Staying at Milla's tonight. She wanted a girls night with just us after we were with the girls all yesterday."

"Oh." Was all he could get out. He was confused. Obviously you could make plans whenever you wanted it's just you rarely made plans when he came back from a road game. You dedicated that day to him and him only. He loved those days even after a win, even in a lost you'd spend it in bed watching film and helping him analyze the games.

"Don't forget to put your laundry in the basket." You turned to him patting his cheek before grabbing your bag getting ready to head out.

"Wait! Whats the matter?" He chased you out of the closet with a confused look on his face.

"Nothing? I going to the store to grab dinner so I can cook at Milla's. She's in the mood for my cooking."

"Okay. So I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" His signature pout made its way onto his face. Normally you couldn't resist it, but today you really didn't care what face he was making.

"Mhmm."

"Bye i love you, text me when you get there." He came up to you planting a kiss to your lips deeply with you barely reciprocating it back.

"Will do." You gave a fake smile to him before leaving the house.

You didn't come home the next day. In fact you stayed one more day at Milla's with the reason being that Milla tired you out at the mall and you didn't feel like packing up everything from the tiredness. When you came back Wednesday morning Joe just got back from his morning work out but could tell you were in a rush.

"Hey! Woah in a rush?"

"Heading into work today. Got a new project." You replied swiftly has he watched you get undressed and dressed in front of him. Every ounce in his body wanted to take you in front of the mirror, but with the look on your face and your pacing he knew you were in a hurry.

"Oh okay. I was thinking dinner tonight with Sam, Ja'marr and Tee? Said they missed your cooking."

"Yeah sure. I'll text you when I leave the office." You smiled grabbing your work bag off the bed and rushing out the door before Joe could even pull you in for a goodbye kiss.

The only thing joe could think about all day was you. He couldnt wait till you got home and have you to himself, even though he needed to wait a few for you to play host. The text came in 2 hours after the boys arrived and they were well into a game of 2k. Screaming and jabs made them forget about the food that was promised.

'Hey sorry on short notice staying late tonight. New project is big. Tell the boys I'm sorry and that I'll cook for them next week. Don't wait up for me.'

'It's okay mamas, don't work yourself to hard. I love you'

All he revived was a heart reaction and no follow up text. He found that strange, but put it off as you were focusing on your work. He understood that. Quickly ordering some takeout the boys didn't mind hearing that next week they were for sure getting your cooking.

Joe didn't even know when you got home last night. Having the boys over drained him so he went to sleep earlier then he thought, he tried to stay up to wait fr you but failed. So to his surprise you weren't even in bed when he woke up. You weren't in the bathroom either. When he made his way downstairs he saw you already dressed for the day washing your finished coffee cup and making a new batch to go.

"Hey I didn't hear you get in last night."

"Yeah I crashed on the couch. To tired to go upstairs." Which had some truth to it. He knew you loved the couch so it wasn't strange you slept downstairs.

"Already heading out?" He asked coming up behind you circling his arms around your waist burying his head into the crook of your neck.

"Just for a few hours. Want to understand the project to I can bring it home for a few days."

"Mhmm, sounds good I missed you home." He mumbled still being comfortable in the crook of your neck.

"You need to get ready for practice and I need to run." You gave him a tight lip smile before rushing out with your coffee and bag in hand. No goodbye kiss, not even a goodbye in general.

He knew something was up, but couldn't figure out what. This whole week since he got back you were short with him. He wasn't even sure he saw you for an hour combined this whole week. The three men who were over that night could tell Joe was deep in his thoughts.

"What's got you all depressed?" Expressed Ja'marr as they were taking a break on the bench. 

"My girl. I haven't even seen her for an hour combined the whole week."

"Woah what did you do to piss her off." Next was Sam who spoke what everyone was thinking.

"Nothing I think? When I got back home she was running off with Milla for a sleepover and that turned into 2 days. When she came back the next morning she was rushing to get to work and stayed overtime which is why she didn't have dinner with us and this morning she was up and out when I woke up. I got two sentences out of her before she rushed out. No goodbye or even a kiss goodbye."

"Oh my guy you messed up big time." Tee said chuckling at the mans stupidity. He didn't know exactly what his teammate did, but knew it was his fault.

"I don't even know what I did! She wasn't like this before the week-" he stopped in his tracks now realizing what could be the cause.

"What did you do?" Ja'marr said knowing that face Joe made all too well.

"Before we flew out, the night before I told her that she was a distraction to me and that I couldn't focus on work with her being all over me." The QB hung his head wanting to knock himself out.

"You gotta be kidding me man."

"You blamed her for your shitty work performance?"

"Oh my god. I didn't even notice. I didn't think she was mad anymore after she was posting about the game on Sunday." Joe was now frantic. How could he have not know sooner.  

"Dude she posts every game it would be weird if she didn't." Tee said the obvious thing that Joe didn't seem to notice that it would be weird to everyone else if you didn't post.

"I would even question why she didn't post." Sam shrugged being the dude less on the internet out of the four. 

"Holy shit I'm a terrible boyfriend."

"Yeah you fucking are." Tee got out a little too fast.

"Wow thanks guys."

"It's your fault I didn't get her cooking last night? Unbelievable." Ja'marr exclaimed making Joe roll his eyes. Of course that was all he focused on.

"So how are you going to make this up?" Sam spoke seeing his friend stressing out.

"I don't know. But I need to do something before she comes home."

As soon as practice ended he rushed home having no time to waste. On the drive home he managed to order food from your favorite restaurant, have flowers delivered to home and a bag you've been eyeing for months. He was going to wait till Christmas to get the bag, but what better time than right now. As dangerous as it would be to be on his phone while driving he checked your location every minute to make sure he would make it home before you. Just as he reached home it was when you left your work place. He hoped you'd come straight home and not make any detours. 

He worked fast, putting the flowers front and center on the kitchen counter, unpacked the food and put it on plates and finally placed the Dior package next to the flowers. Smiling at the little set up he looked at this phone seeing he had time to get dressed up. Sure you didn't mind the sweatpants and a bengals shirt but he didn't feel like it was the most "i'm sorry" fit. 

Walking through the door you let out a sigh. As much as you wanted to avoid Joe more you couldn't help but admit you missed sleeping in your own bed especially with him in it. Maybe you should let up on your semi silent treatment. Your thoughts were paused when you heard your playlist coming through from the kitchen. Peaking your interest. Turning the corner you found Joe standing all dressed up with a goofy smile on his face.

"What is this?" You inquired placing your work bag on one of the free counters.

"A sorry, a i messed up and i didn't realize it till now."

"Joe-" you started before he cut you off.

"I missed the welcome homes, i love you's and the way call me by a nickname instead of Joe. I was stupid. i thought everything was okay with what I said to you last week but it wasn't. Trust me when i say i didn't mean it. This is no excuse, but it was an in the moment thing. I know my performance was shitty these last few weeks and that my day was bad and that was no excuse to take it out on you when you were only trying to make me feel better. I also know that i should've just came to you. The most understanding girl i know, especially when it comes to my job. I don't know what else to say besides i'm sorry." he got out all in one breathe which shocked you. He wants one for a grand speech, but he was pretty good at it.

"It took you almost a week to realize something was wrong with me." you still didn't want to let down your guard, you were going to milk him for everything he had to say.

"I know, I mean i knew you weren't alright since i left, but i guess i let the praise you gave me online clouded everything. Sorry it took me so long to realize."

"You know you made me feel like a slut. like all i wanted from the new hottest quarterback was sex. normally you like to take your mind off of work when it affects you that much but i was wrong and i'm sorry for that."

"Don't apologize. i never meant to make you feel that way, you are not a slut. you've been there for me since my first year at LSU. how could i make you feel any less." He said pulling you into an embrace which was much needed for the both of you.

"Do you forgive me?" He mumbled in your hair making you giggle at how whiny he sounded. 

"I do, and i missed you."

"I missed you more then you could ever know, this past week was worst than my losing streak."

"I doubt that but ill take it. now whats all of this?" You pulled away looking at the little fixture on the kitchen island."

"food from the place you like and a little gift."

"A little? It's a Dior package."

"Open it." he begged you.

Reaching over to the bag you didn't know what was going to be in it, Joe's love language was for sure gift giving so it was always a surprise. When you opened the box you gasped at the bag you've been eyeing out for months. You didn't even tell Joe about your interest in the bag. When you looked back up at Joe he had the signature smirk on his face. 

"How did you know?"

"I pay attention believe it or not."

"You didn't have to." You pouted up at him for the sweet gesture. No matter how many gifts he would shower you with it still caught you by surprise everytime.

"I wanted to. I was going to get you it for christmas, but i have enough gifts to spare." he said as a smirk creeped up on his face.

"You're unbelievable." You laughed pulled him down by the jacket he was wearing to plant a deep kiss. He couldn't help but bring you closer. Right when he was going to lift you up on the counter you pulled away.

"Food is going to get cold." You reminded with a smirk of your own making his drop.

"I haven't touched you in so long." he growled out making you laugh.

"Could've had sex the night before your flight and sex this whole week but thats on you." You said patting his chest as you made your way to sit on the barstool.

"Oh you're never going to let that go."

'am i getting my dinner next week?'

[ghostaholics]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself) ➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap). ➸ WORD COUNT: 2k

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.

Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.

It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.

Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.

And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.

But no.

Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.

Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.

Law of the jungle, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.

Incredible.

You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.

All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.

From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.

Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.

But somehow he did it with you beside him.

You try not to think about the implications of that.

𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.

Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?

The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."

Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.

Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.

He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.

For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.

But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.

More witnesses.

Great.

Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?

Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.

Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.

Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.

"Say cheese."

An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—

"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.

You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—

"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.

"Aye, thanks mate.”

Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.

Fucking traitor.

"Knobheads—"

They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.

"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.

"Bite me, MacTavish."

"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.

"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"

"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.

And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.

"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."

"Sod off."

"He'll appreciate bein' included."

Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”

“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.

What.

There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.

Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.

So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.

Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."

Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"

There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.

But somebody else beats you to it.

“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”

Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.

There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.

And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.

But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"

"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:

"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"

"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"

"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."

"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."

He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."

Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”

[kickersofearth]

the history of kicking and punting in football

the history of kicking and punting in football

Kicking and punting have been integral parts of the game of football since its inception. In the early days of the sport, kicking and punting were used primarily as a means of advancing the ball down the field and scoring points. Over time, however, the techniques and strategies involved in kicking and punting have evolved and become a crucial aspect of modern football strategy. The origins of…

[tendrbelly]

This field goal kicker is nervous. The game is tied with 44 seconds to go, and his team has the ball near the 50-yard line. He's pretty sure he's going to be called in to make the game-winning field goal, and it's going to be a very long attempt.

His unborn son clearly takes after him because he's kicking up a storm. Hopefully his son will remain calm and quiet while daddy concentrates and kicks the ball through the uprights.

[endless-summer-soldier]

fair catch

pairing: CollegeFootballPlayer!Bucky x CollegeAthlete!Reader

summary: Y/N joins the football team to prove a point and the last thing Bucky expected out of the season was to fall for the new kicker

warnings: slight injury, slight alcohol use, mostly fluff though

word count: 5.7k

taglist: @tellmealovestory @mrs-bucky-barnes106 @charmedbysarge @theroyalmanatee @ozwriterchick @aya-fay @differenttyphoonwerewolf @sebsgirl71479

Coach Fury blew the final whistle, signaling practice was over. Bucky sighed in relief and jogged over to the bench to dump a cup of water on his head. This was their last two-a-day practice due to the semester starting the following day. 

“Listen up! I have an announcement to make.” Fury was standing there with the other coaches and a small female, probably a student. Bucky figured she might be the new manager of the football team, a spot typically occupied by co-eds who wanted to hook up with football players. 

Once the team was circled up, Fury continued, “I’d like you all to meet Y/F/N Y/L/N. She’s our new kicker.”

Bucky felt Sam suppressing a cough as his water went down the wrong pipe. There was silence as the new teammate stood there, smiling confidently at them all. 

Bucky’s first thought was that she was adorable, but she was tiny. She certainly didn’t have the build of a football player. 

Steve was the first person to speak up, “Coach, Parker’s our kicker.”

“And Parker couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a frying pan.” The group chuckled and Peter shrugged, knowing he wasn’t a skilled kicker. “With Y/L/N as our kicker we can move Parker to holder.”

It wasn’t a bad thought. Parker missed more field goals than he made but he had good hands. He could catch and place the ball in the proper place pretty quickly.

“Y/L/N will practice with us tomorrow so you can all evaluate her skills then. Anything you’d like to add?” He asked her.

She provided them with a tightlipped smile and said, “Happy to be here.”  The huddle evaporated as the team collected their things and headed to the locker room. Bucky wasn’t surprised when Steve approached Y/N immediately and shook her hand, acting as the captain and welcoming her to the team. 

“Well this is new,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged, “I mean as long as she can put points on the board, I don’t mind it.”

“Are you worried?” he asked.

“Worried? What would I be worried about?”

“I don’t know, Buck. She seems like your type.”

“I don’t have a type,” he responded.

“Sure you do. Dark hair, small stature, dry sense of humor.”

“How could you possibly know what sense of humor she has?”

“Oh, I don’t. I’m just speculating.”

“You are something else,” he said, shaking his head. They made their way into the locker room and ran into Steve on the way.

“Hey, you two busy after this?” Steve asked. Bucky and Sam both shook their heads and Steve added, “Good, because I told Y/N I’d take her out for a drink. Just thought it might be nice to get to know a few people off the field.”

“How captain-ly,” Sam mocked. Steve could read their expressions and knew they weren’t stoked about the situation. 

“Come on, just come by for one drink. Be good teammates.”

“One drink, and you’re buying,” Bucky said. He could never say no to Steve.

“Deal,” Steve replied. 

“So, why join the football team?” Sam bluntly asked. Steve had been driving most of the conversation, asking Y/N about where she grew up and her major. But Sam didn’t have the patience for pleasantries. Steve shot Sam a look as soon as the question was out of his mouth, and Sam merely shrugged.

“I’ve been waiting for that one,” she grinned, taking a big swig of her beer. “You probably won’t like this answer, but it's a bit of a political move. I was the captain of the women’s soccer team and we just found out that our program was cut, along with a few other women’s sports teams. Apparently we didn’t bring in enough money for the school, despite making the playoffs the past eight years. I couldn’t just sit back and let the administration win, so I figured I’d join the football team, try to get some media attention so I could talk about the lack of funding for women’s soccer.”

Whatever answer Bucky was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.

“That’s pretty badass,” Bucky said.

“So…you don’t have any interest in football,” Sam stated, more than asked.

“Look, I’m an athlete. Every time I step out onto the field, I’m playing to win. And I’m actually pretty decent at kicking a football. I grew up with three older brothers so I was practically raised on the football field. Even though my motives may be a little murky, I am fully dedicated to this team.”

“Now that’s what we like to hear,” Steve said, grinning. 

“But actually, where do we fall within the division?” she asked.

The three players looked at each other, trying to determine how to answer that question.

“We have solid talent, we’ve just been…unlucky the past few years,” Steve said.

“What does that mean?” she retorted, with a raised eyebrow.

“Sam was injured most of last season and he’s our best and fastest wide receiver, so that hurt,” Bucky said.

“You're telling me,” Sam agreed.

“Then we went through a few offensive coordinators until we found one that…meshed with the team.” Steve said.

“The team or the coach?” Y/N bemused.

“The coach,” they all mumbled in unison.

“So Fury’s a hard ass?”

“You could say that. He’s harsh, but fair. And he genuinely knows his way around the gridiron,” Steve stated.

“He is a great coach, just not everyone appreciates his coaching style,” Sam added.

“Coulson has been a great addition so far. He’s kind of balanced Fury out a bit. And his offensive routes have been working pretty well so far,” Bucky commended.

“Got it, so don’t get on Fury’s bad side. Is there anyone else I should be worried about?”

“Just Bucky. He gets cranky if he hasn’t eaten enough,” Sam joked. Bucky nudged him playfully while his teammates laughed.

“We’ve got a great squad. And we really do need a strong kicker. So if you can prove to the guys that you have talent, you’ll earn their respect and they won’t mess with you.”

“Good to know.” Everything about her demeanor was calm, cool, and collected. She didn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated about joining the team. She was able to hold her own and didn’t care about what the guys thought of her. Bucky couldn’t help but admire that energy. He sensed that his friends were fond of her too and he expected they’d defend her if any of the other teammates decided to get mouthy.

“Well, I appreciate you guys taking me out for a drink, but I do need to get back. Still have some unpacking to do.” She left a few dollar bills on the table to cover her drink, even though Steve told her it was unnecessary. She was just as stubborn as he was.

Once she left the bar, Steve was the first to speak. “I like her. I think she’s going to be really good for the team.”

“I think she’s going to be trouble,” Sam said.

“Trouble?” Steve echoed, looking for an explanation.

“Half the team is going to fall in love with her. Including this one,” Sam said, signaling towards Bucky.

“What? You’re crazy, man,” Bucky argued.

“Alright, whatever you say. But I’m going to reference this moment when I give the best man speech at your wedding.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as Steve studied his face, trying to figure out if Sam was right. As Bucky’s oldest friend, he could usually read him like a book when it came to women. Which is why Bucky avoided eye contact, trying to hide any tells he might have.

Steve let out a knowing smile, realizing Sam was right.

It was the day before their first game of the season and they had just finished up practice. Bucky felt oddly content with the team. They had finally gotten into a good rhythm and he felt they were prepared for their first game against Millersville, which was one of their local rivals. They had lost that past few match ups, but Bucky liked their chances this time around.

As the team drank down their water and collected their belongings, Steve cleared his throat calling their attention.

“Listen up. Y/N has something she’d like to say.”

“Thanks Cap. I want to let you know that there will be an article in the Inquirer about me and I felt like I should explain myself to you before you read it. The reason I joined this team is because I was the captain of the women’s soccer team on campus, before they cut the program for budgetary reasons. Several sports teams were cut, all of them being women’s sports teams. There are so many female athletes here on scholarship that are now going to have to transfer out and qualified coaches are now out of a job, and it's completely unfair. So I joined the team, knowing it would get people talking and hopefully some attention would be brought on this injustice. I’m hopeful that some prominent alumni might make some donations to save some of the programs.” She paused, trying to read the reactions of her teammates, but she was mostly getting blank stares.

“I want all of you to know that I take my spot on this team very seriously, and I will do my job to help us win tomorrow. I am committed to all of you and to Coach Fury. I don’t want you to think of me any differently, I just want to be treated like a teammate. So if any of you have any questions or want to say anything, feel free.”

It was silent for a moment. Bucky exchanged eyes with Sam, wondering if they should be some of the first ones to speak up.

“That’s awesome,” Peter said, breaking the silence. “I mean not the part about the soccer team, but the other stuff.”

“Badass,” Sam said, hoping to influence the others.

“Just don’t go leaving us once the soccer team comes calling, okay?” Bucky joked, shooting her a smile that she returned.

“Alright, bring it in,” Thor directed, fanning the team into a sweaty, smelly group hug around Y/N. She tried to protest but it was no use. She emerged from the group gagging and inhaling the fresh air.

Bucky caught up with her as she collected her water jug and helmet.

“That went well,” he commented.

“Honestly, such a relief. I thought Tony was going to have me exiled.”

“Nah, he loves to stick it to the man.”

“Well, thanks for the support.”

“I’m your teammate. I’m always gonna have your back.”

The game was tied 17-17 with two minutes left in the fourth quarter. Bucky was correct in thinking they were pretty evenly matched against their rival. Their defense was struggling a bit, but the offense was doing well putting points on the board. Bucky had scored a touchdown in the first half and Steve had rushed one in on a quarterback sneak play. Y/N had pulled her weight by making both extra points and a field goal right before halftime. And now they were running on third down at the 30-yard line, hoping to pick up a few more feet so that she could easily kick another field goal. Scott ran the ball another few yards and was tackled down at the 27, which put them in good field position for a field goal. The refs moved the chains and the offense ran off the field, as the field goal unit ran on.

“You got this,” Bucky said to her, giving her a pat on the shoulder as she ran out to her position. Peter knelt on the ground, ready to receive the snap as Y/N lined herself up and took a few steps back.

Peter called for the ball, essentially starting the play and Bucky immediately saw one of the defenders jump over one of the lineman, clearly crossing the line of scrimmage before the ball had even been snapped. Yellow flags were flung in the air by the refs and gently floated down, but the play was already in motion and couldn’t be stopped. The ball reached Parker and he deftly turned the laces, as Y/N ran forward and kicked the ball, aiming between the uprights. Her laser focus betrayed her, as she didn’t see the defender making a beeline for her. Her leg was fully extended when he made contact, bringing her lithe form to the ground with ease. The ball had been tipped by another defender, but it hardly mattered as the ref’s whistles were sounding.

The defender who made the tackle was easily three times Y/N’s size, and Bucky watched as he got up with ease and Y/N laid there, motionless and broken. Peter was immediately at her side, checking to see if she was okay. He looked to the sidelines and waved a hand toward Fury, signaling him to send out the trainer. Helen grabbed her kit and sprinted out alongside Fury. 

Rage crept up on Bucky quickly, but what set him off was when the defender high fived his teammate, proud of himself. The attack felt personal. He knew he left early and continued on anyway, determined to pin the female kicker.

Bucky dropped his helmet and sprinted out onto the field shoving the defender to the ground. “What the fuck was that!” Bucky grunted. He wanted this guy to take off his helmet so he could give him a black eye.

Suddenly Steve was in front of him, separating Bucky from his new enemy. Sam must’ve been behind him, giving him a bearhug and pulling him backwards. Bucky wasn’t giving up though, he fought his two teammates trying to get through to the defender.

“Bucky, it’s not worth it,” Steve said, pushing him backwards. “Let it go.”

“She’s not moving, Steve. He did that to her!” 

“She’s gonna be okay. Cho’s out there.”

“Who does that guy think he is!” Bucky seethed.

“He’s a jackass. But don’t stoop to his level,” Sam said. More of the players had come out to break up the fight. The refs were directing both teams to go back to their benches. They should all be taking a knee right now, but the tension was too high. 

Then the ref pointed toward him and pointed to the locker rooms, ejecting him from the game. He did the same for the defender who tackled Y/N. Sam walked him toward the locker room to ensure he wouldn’t stage another attack. Steve corralled the rest of the team back to the bench to take a knee.

When Bucky got into the locker room, he had to let out his frustration. He punched his locker until his knuckles started bleeding. He barely felt the pain, he just kept thinking about the asshole who laid out his teammate. He finally calmed himself down with some deep breaths and decided to take a shower. As soon as the game was called, he was going to check on her. 

Y/N woke up lying on a bed in the training room and immediately felt the pain in her head. She let out an unconscious groan and suddenly two figures were by her side.

“Y/N! You’re up,” Steve said, still fully dressed in uniform. Helen started checking her pupils and did a basic examination.

“What happened,” she mustered. Helen handed her a bottle of water and placed two pills in her palm. She swallowed the pills without question and chugged most of the water.

“One of the defensive lineman was offside for the kick and laid you out. Ended up with a roughing the kicker penalty and he got himself ejected.”

“But did we win?” she asked. 

Steve chuckled, “Yeah, the 15 yard penalty gave us a new set of downs and Lang ran it in for the game winning touchdown.”

“Thank god. You wouldn’t have heard the end of it if you let that guy lay me out and then lost the game.” Steve smiled at her again. At least she seemed to be in good spirits. Helen placed a cold compress on her forehead and concluded her examination. 

“I’ve never seen a brawl breakout like that on the field,” Cho stated.

“A brawl!?” Y/N clamored. “And I missed it? What happened?”

“Bucky charged the field. He pushed the guy that tackled you and almost knocked his head off. Took Sam and I to hold him back. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Is he okay?” Y/N asked.

“Oh he’s fine. Refs ejected him and the other guy before it got too out of hand.”

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” Helen asked.

“I mean my head hurts like a bitch, and I feel a little sore on my sides. But I think that’s about it for now.”

Helen nodded, “I think you have a few fractured ribs and you might have a concussion. I recommend that you go to the hospital.”

“Oh. Do I have to go now?”

“That would be best. You should get x-rays done for the ribs and you need to be on concussion watch the rest of the night.”

Y/N felt uneasy, the last thing she wanted was to spend the night in the emergency room by herself. She just wanted a warm bed to rest in for the night. Steve read her expression and tried to help.

“What if one of us stayed with her all night? We’ll make sure she doesn’t fall asleep and if she starts exhibiting more symptoms of a concussion, I’ll take her to the hospital.”

Cho considered his proposal and eyed Y/N, who was currently pleading with her best puppy dog eyes.

“I suppose that would be fine. But she needs to get x-rays done tomorrow.”

“Absolutely,” Y/N agreed. 

Just as Helen was packing up, Bucky burst through the door.

“Is she okay!?”

“Course I’m okay, I’m super tough,” she smiled.

“And that should be the painkillers hitting,” Cho explained.

“She has a few fractured ribs and she might have a concussion,” Steve explained.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna kill that guy,” Bucky muttered, his hand clenching into a fist.

“Easy Buck, it could’ve been a lot worse,” Steve rationalized.

“You’ve got her for tonight?” Helen asked. Bucky shot a look at Steve, confused but Steve just nodded. “We’ve got her.”

Helen nodded and packed up her things, heading home. 

“I told Helen we would stay with Y/N tonight, to make sure she doesn’t fall asleep. And we can take her to the hospital tomorrow to get some x-rays done.”

Bucky nodded in agreement.

“I still need to get showered and pack up. Buck, can you give Y/N a ride to our place and I’ll meet you there?”

“Sure, of course.”

Steve departed for the locker room, leaving just Bucky and Y/N. He walked over toward the table where she was sitting and helped her onto her feet. She was initially unsteady, falling into him slightly as she gained her balance.

“Okay, that is not going to work…”

“What?” she inquired.

“Come here,” he put his hand behind her back and reached down to collect her legs, picking her up easily in his strong arms.

“This is not necessary.”

“You can barely stand up straight, I’m not risking you getting hurt even more.”

She didn’t have the energy to fight back. It would’ve been useless as they quickly approached Bucky’s black Jeep.

He gingerly placed her on two feet and opened the passenger door for her. He was ready to wrap an arm around her waist to aid her into the car, but she brushed him off and easily climbed into the leather seat. Bucky shut the door behind her carefully and walked over to the driver’s side of the car.

It was silent for a few minutes as he drove them the short way to his house. Once they were inside, Y/N made herself comfortable on the sofa and Bucky retrieved her a glass of water. 

“So…” Y/N started, eyeing Bucky, “I heard you got tossed from the game.”

Bucky let out an unconscious chuckle. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Oh, do you make it a habit of starting brawls mid-game?”

“This would be a first.”

“What the hell happened?” she asked.

He let out a deep sigh, placing the glass in front of her. “I don’t know…I just snapped. I saw my teammate lying there, not moving, after a cheap shot and I needed to do something.”

“So you did that to protect me? Because I’m a woman?” There was an edge to her voice and he knew he had to tread carefully.

“Honestly, I think that asshole laid you out because you’re a woman. It was fucked up. And I didn’t want him to think he could get away with that. You’re part of the team and I’ve got your back.”

She studied him for a moment and let out a small smile, accepting the answer he provided.

“Thank you,” she said plainly. 

“You’re welcome.”

They were quiet for a moment and Bucky spoke up again, “Steve should be home soon. Did you want to watch TV or something?”

“Sure.” Bucky handed her the remote and let her click through the channels until something grasped her attention.

“What the fuck is this?” Bucky asked, stunned by the blurred nudity on his television.

“You’ve never seen Naked and Afraid?” His expression answered the question for her. 

“It’s like a survivalist show. They spend 21 days trying to survive in the wilderness.”

“And they're naked…”

“Yeah, they don’t really explain that logic. Something having to do with primitivism. I think it's just for shock value.”

“Makes sense.”

“But yeah, it’s oddly addicting.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Despite his apprehension, he settled in and focused his attention on the TV. The two made comments and jokes to each other while watching and it wasn’t long until Bucky was drawn in.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Steve came in and found them on the couch, watching the reality TV survival show.

“What on Earth…” Steve said.

“Naked and Afraid,” Y/N and Bucky said in unison. Steve wordlessly dropped his things and joined them on the couch, asking questions about the show and the episode.

“Why is this so addicting?” Steve finally asked.

“I have no idea, but it’s so good,” Y/N said. The three of them sat and watched episodes for hours, but the time flew by with ease. But the drugs and pain was starting to take a toll on Y/N. Bucky could sense she was close to drifting off, and every time he saw her head bob, he nudged her shoulder to make sure she was still awake.

“I’m just so tired…” she would say. Bucky looked at Steve for guidance. He wanted her to get some rest, but he didn’t want to risk breaching the concussion protocol. Steve pulled out his phone and did a quick Google search.

“It says that technically she can sleep, she just needs to be woken up every few hours.”

Bucky turned to Y/N, checking her reaction at the good news, but she was already in a light sleep.

“I’ll take her to my room, she’ll be more comfortable there,” Bucky said.

“Do you want me to stay up with you?” Steve offered.

“Nah, I’ll set an alarm and wake her every two hours.”

“You sure?” Steve was more than happy to help out, but he also recognized the sparkle in Bucky’s eye.

“I’ve got it,” Bucky replied. Steve nodded and gathered his things before heading to his room. Bucky approached Y/N and picked her up carefully, so as not to wake her. She easily fell into his arms and he navigated to his room. He carefully placed her onto his unmade bed and pulled the sheets over her. She sunk into the mattress and continued to sleep, curled up in the blankets. Bucky glanced over his room and realized it could use a little tidying up. The last thing he wanted was for Y/N to wake up disgusted at the mess. He set a timer on his phone, cracked his knuckles and started cleaning up.

The first two hours went by surprisingly quickly. It helped to have a task he was focused on and he put his headphones in to listen to some music as he worked. He was shocked to find it was nearing 3AM. 

He sat gently on the bed and carefully shook Y/N’s shoulder, calling her name as he did so. She groggily opened her eyes, clearly annoyed at being disturbed from her slumber.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked.

She squinted at him, “Tired.”

“I know, I’m sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” she responded, stretching out.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“Mmm, a bottle of red wine would be great.”

Bucky stared at her before she added, “I’m kidding.” He was glad to see her sense of humor was still intact.

“How about a grilled cheese?” he offered.

“Oh that sounds amazing.”

“Coming right up.” He stood from his desk chair and was surprised as Y/N followed him to the kitchen. He poured her a large glass of water and placed it in front of her selected seat at the kitchen table.

Bucky moved around the kitchen with ease as he collected all the necessary ingredients for their midnight snack.

“Do you cook often?” she asked him.

“I try to. I like eating healthy when I can and it's easier if I just cook for myself instead of eating out all the time.”

“What’s your go-to meal that you cook when you’re trying to impress a girl?”

Bucky turned back to her, “You’re about to find out.”

She scoffed, “Grilled cheese is not your signature dish.”

“Sure it is.”

“So if you were going to cook dinner for a date, you’d make her grilled cheese?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“It’s a great test of character. I want to be with a girl who is down to earth and appreciates a good grilled cheese.”

“No girl is going to be impressed by grilled cheese.”

“Talk to me after you’ve tried it,” he smiled. She continued drinking her water and watching him work. Her headache was fading away but her ribs still hurt a bit and watching Bucky distracted her from the pain.

Soon enough, Bucky placed a plate in front of her that held a perfectly made grilled cheese. The bread was a rich golden brown and there was the slightest bit of cheese oozing off the crust. 

“How do you want it cut?” he asked. 

“Triangles,” she responded, smiling back to memories of her childhood. Bucky slid the butter knife diagonally across the sandwich, creating two right triangles.

He placed his own plate in front of the neighboring chair and joined her at the table. She picked up the sandwich and bit off a corner.

“Oh my god…” she gushed.

Bucky merely shrugged and said, “I told you.”

“How? How is this the best sandwich I’ve ever had?” She continued to eat her grilled cheese, moaning in delight after every bite. 

“I’m just happy it lived up to expectations.”

“Oh, it exceeded expectations,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, as he collected the dishes and loaded the dishwasher.

“Good, but tired. And sore.”

“You want to go back to sleep?”

She simply nodded and he held out his hand to help her up. She took it with ease and he walked her back to his bedroom, pulling down the sheets so she could climb in.

As she made herself comfortable, James let out a deep yawn.

“Are you going to sleep?” she asked.

He nodded, “I’m gonna pass out on the couch for a few hours, then I’ll check on you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I just want to make sure you aren’t concussed.”

“No, I mean you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“You are not sleeping on the couch.”

“I don’t mind sharing the bed. It is yours.”

“Y/N, I really don’t mind.”

“Stop arguing and get in the bed,” she demanded. 

He wasn’t expecting her to be so direct and found he followed her direction without question. Even though Y/N was tiny, it was still tight in the twin bed considering Bucky’s bulky frame. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get comfortable. Y/N was curled up under the covers, fast asleep, and he was worried that any shift he made might wake her up. So he just stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore her sweet scent and delicate breathing. And then she turned. She instinctively pulled herself closer to him, resting her head on his chest and placing her arm around his rib cage. He carefully placed his arm around her and gently ran his fingers up and down her torso. He focused his attention on his movements and soon enough, he was drifting off to sleep.

He was startled awake by the chime of his alarm and he didn’t want to move. He quickly turned off the ringer, not wanting to wake up Y/N just yet. She was the little spoon to his big, her petite body fitting perfectly in his. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, scratching her shoulder gently to wake her. He wasn’t sure if she was a naturally heavy sleeper or if it was a side effect from her injury, but either way his job wasn’t any easier.

“Y/N,” he called again, shaking her shoulder ever so slightly. This time she stirred, turning so that she was facing him. “Are you awake?” he whispered.

“No…” she replied. 

“Don’t make me bring in reinforcements,” he added with a smile.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenged.

“Only one way to find out,” he smirked. He leaned in close to her and started tickling her torso, playing her rib cage like it was a piano. She immediately squirmed, trying to evade his attack unsuccessfully. As she squealed, she also let out a breathy giggle that was music to his ears. She flipped back over so that she was facing the edge of the bed and Bucky took this moment to ease up on the tickling and squeezed her tight in his arms. She leaned into his arms before calling, “Okay, okay I give.”

“You awake now?”

“Yes, I’m awake,” she laughed. He loosened his grip and she turned back to him.

“That was not a fair fight. You’re like twice my size. And I was half asleep.”

“All I’m hearing are excuses,” Bucky countered. She pouted at him and Bucky couldn’t help but smile. “Are you feeling better?”

She nodded, “No more headache, still a little sore in the ribs.”

“My attack probably didn’t help that,” Bucky admitted.

“Definitely not. But I didn’t mind too much.”

He studied her face, counting every freckle and memorizing the pattern of her irises. He smiled noticing the twinkle in her eye had returned; it had dimmed after she took the hit but now it was glimmering again. Bucky couldn’t believe how quickly things had changed between them. He never saw it coming. Yesterday she was just his teammate, and now he couldn’t imagine a life without her. He’d always heard about people falling so fast that they don’t realize it until it was too late, but he’d never experienced it before. He leaned in closer, pulling her in tight to his chest, taking in her natural scent, and he planted a protective kiss on her hairline.

“Why don’t you rinse off in the shower before we head to the hospital,” he suggested.

“Hospital?” she whined, “I’m really fine.”

He looked at her sternly, “We’re going.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, I’m not taking no for an answer. I promised Cho I would take you in.”

She rolled her eyes before climbing out of bed, “Fiiiine.” 

Bucky followed her into the bathroom to grab her a fresh set of towels. As he handed her the small stack, she looked at him with a look that he couldn’t quite place. He guessed she had something she wanted to get off her chest, but wasn’t sure if she should proceed.

“What is it?” he asked, hoping his comment would encourage her.

She hesitated for a minute, weighing the pros and cons in her head. “It’s nothing,” she settled on, giving him a fake smile.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders.

She let out a sigh before saying, “It’s fine if you want to keep last night between us. Not that anything happened, but we can just go back to normal.”

The comment should’ve stung, but Bucky wasn’t letting her get out of things that easily, “Is that what you want?”

Her eyes told him everything. “I don’t mind either-”

He cut her off, not willing to accept her non-answer. He shook his head, “What do you want?”

He was pushing her, he knew that, but he wanted her to hear her say it, to make sure it wasn’t all in his head.

“I want a thousand more nights like last night. Just without the whole concussion part,” she added, with a smile.

“Only a thousand? We’re capping it there?” 

She let out a teasing laugh, “Let’s start with a thousand. If you do well, we can discuss a contract extension.”

“Trust me, I’m getting that extension. How about I give you a little preview…” he suggested, moving in closer towards her.

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” she smirked. He placed his hand on her jaw and gently ran his index finger in circles behind her ear. 

“Maybe something like this…” he whispered, words grazing her lips. She closed her eyes and waited until he finally brushed his lips up against hers. He pulled her in tighter towards him as he continued kissing her. She couldn’t help but smile as he caressed her lips, knowing full well she never wanted him to stop. 

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Thoughts on soap and reader as teenagers together??? (I just read that fic about teenage Simon x reader 😼🔥)

I'm so glad you asked me this, because I do have thots!

Hope it doesn't offend that it's just random disjointed headcanons. I do have the posts below the separator as inspo!

Teen!Soap x Teen!Reader: (mid-late 2000s edition)

cw: same as home (underage drinking/smoking/drug use, underage criminal activity, teen romance, etc.)

Teen!Soap who was raised lower-middle class with a gaggle of older sisters, three in total.

Teen!Soap who's father worked in a factory and who's mom was a carer at a nursing/care home.

Teen!Soap who was was always a bit scrappy and didn't really enjoy people in authority positions, teachers included... (and who even talked back to his football coach at times).

Teen!Soap who is like a vibrant lure, attracting people to him with his funny jokes and bright smile and laugh, who consistently keeps a growing group of friends, and is an extrovert through and through.

Teen!Soap who met you at school in Year 7 and took a liking to you because you were just as ballsy, stubborn, bold and playful as him... and so absorbed you into his group of friends.

Teen!Soap who got lucky enough to join little league football when he was 8, and became a goalie very quickly because he was fast and bulky enough to defend the goal.

Teen!Soap who, like most young boys who play football in Scotland, became fairly popular in school, because he was handsome and athletic, and often had girls come watch his games.

Teen!Soap who couldn't give a single fuck about the girls flirting with him or coming to watch his games because, every time, without fail, he'd run off the field to come give you a high-five and chat with only you.

Teen!Soap who'd only turn up home from school after the sky was dark, because him and his friends (you included) were hanging out in a random field/park/woods or in someone's garage.

Teen!Soap who started smoking at 11, drinking at 13.

Teen!Soap who discovered rock and, especially, pop punk music on youtube as a pre-teen.

Teen!Soap who became the quintessential late 00s emo-punk teen: fishnet fingerless gloves, baggy tees, skinny tees, studded belts, combat boots that he ripped once and fixed with duct-tape (that he called his 'arse kickers'), too much hair gel and hair spray, chokers, bracelets, studded everything, cargo pants, boxers showing, flannel shirts...

Teen!Soap who had his first handy given to him an older girl at a "party" in someone's garage.

Teen!Soap who'd regularly taunt the police with curses, flipping them the bird and even mild vandalism.

Teen!Soap who once stopped the cops from harassing his friends due to being disorderly by putting a brick/cobblestone through the windshield of the police cruiser and then took you by the hand and took off running.

Teen!Soap who backed you onto a wall in a back alley after you escaped the cops and locked eyes with you, and, amidst the adrenaline, pressed his lips to yours :)

also used these three posts of mine as inspo:

[the-football-chick]

Texans kicker Ka′imi Fairbairn boots a phenomenal game-winning 59-yard field goal as time expired to give his team a 23-20 upset win over the Biills. Texans 2nd-year QB C.J. Stroud threw for 331 yards and a touchdown while WR Stefon Diggs led the Texans with six receptions for 82 yards which was perhaps a revenge game against his former team.

[erotica-on-amazon]

The only way to lift the curse is to obey his every command. Over 55 years ago, Emerald Bay University’s fate was sealed by a “cursed kick.” In the biggest football game in the program’s history, a fateful field goal hit the post, sparking a playoff drought that persists to this day. According to legend, on Halloween night at 8:29 p.m.—the exact time of the infamous kick—any placekicker who chants the snap count in front of the locker room mirror will summon 1969’s quarterback, Jim Larson. Eighteen-year-old freshman kicker Andy isn’t afraid of the curse, but his teammates are. To prove his courage, he agrees to perform the ritual. When the locker room door creaks open and footsteps echo through the mist, Andy realizes the legend might be terrifyingly real. A figure dressed as the quarterback emerges—is it just a teammate playing a prank, or is it truly the ghost of Jim Larson, back for revenge? Andy finds himself facing the wildest night of his life, where obeying the quarterback's demands may be the only way to lift the curse. As the abandoned locker room comes alive with steam and sweat for the first time in decades, Andy is drawn into big trouble with the mysterious and spooky quarterback...

[that-ari-blogger]

Ascension (Whatever It Takes)

Let’s talk about active and reactive characters, and what that tells us about a given story.

Whatever It Takes sets up Vaggie and Carmilla as… foils? Parallels? Opposites? The series is open ended in this field, it gives us archetypes, and invites us to draw our own conclusions.

As such, these two are protectors, but the way they go about it is both similar and wildly different. It’s complicated.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (Hazbin Hotel, Castaway)

The difference between an active and a reactive character is in the name. An active character takes actions and pushes the plot forward to further their own goals, while a reactive character responds to others and acts in accordance with that.

For example, Zestial is a fundamentally reactive character. He responds to the floor shifting underneath him in the previous song with damage control.

He watched the person who is ostensibly closest to him get undermined, so he tries to pick her up. In that way, he’s a pretty decent friend. He offers aid when she’s feeling low, and whatever he gets out of it, the man’s primary goal here is to help.

“What weighs on your soul, old friend? I explore you to share the load.”

At this point, I feel the need to explain my bias towards this character. Zestial is one of my favourite individuals presented in Hazbin Hotel, and it’s not because he’s benevolent, or powerful, or composed. It’s not because of his design, or his writing. It’s because I am weak, and his voice is smoother than the ocean at night. I don’t have to explain myself further.

Zestial is also reacting to the power dynamic being presented by the Vees. They didn’t do any damage, but Velvette felt comfortable making threats, and was utterly unintimidated by Carmilla, so Zestial feels like he needs to start moving his pieces to counteract that.

“If it was thou who slew the angel, why not let your fear be known?”

Essentially, Zestial needs to get himself and his friend back on top, and back to being untouchable. He wants to go back to not having to act at all.

But a side note here, notice how the rhyming scheme in this section is slanted, that’s because rhyming wasn’t always a thing in English poetry. It was ported over from other languages as previous poetry conventions were focused on the musicality and other elements of the words.

It doesn’t map out exactly, rhyming grew to popularity during the medieval times, and judging by Zestial’s dialect, that’s where I’d put him historically. But it does convey a sense of age to his words that adds gravitas to what he is saying.

When Carmilla starts singing, the music itself backs off to a quet guitar. She’s being vulnerable, rather than all powerful, and that contrasts with Zestial to exacerbate their differences. Zestial’s oomph makes Carmilla seem smaller, and Carmilla’s pensiveness amplifies Zestial in return.

As an example of an active character, Charlie and Velvette are fundamentally active characters whose actions make up the majority of the plot. Charlie pursues her dream, makes bargains, offers forgiveness, and Velvette… well she has one song, but Carmilla and Zestial’s actions are in direct response to that song’s ambition.

However, here’s the kicker. In my opinion, there is no such thing as active and passive characters. It’s a gradient.

The classification exists for a reason, it helps audiences understand, but in practice, nobody exists only on one side of the equation. Being reactive is a biproduct of existing in relation to other stuff. Chuck Noland, from Castaway, despite being the only character on screen for most of the movie, reacts to his environment and to his situation like a human being. Even if a character chooses to ignore their surroundings, that’s still a reaction to something. The decision to do nothing is still a decision

On the other end of the spectrum, all characters are active, because otherwise they aren’t characters. Being active is simply the practice of doing things. In the first Ranger’s Apprentice book, Baron Arald and Sir Rodney are generally pretty reactive characters, but their choice to challenge the Kalkara is an active decision.

In that sense, Zestial is a character who leans towards reactivity, but is still motivated to take action when threatened.

For the sake of visualisation. I have a graph.

We can start by putting Zestial and Charlie on opposite ends and filling in from there. I would say Husk is pretty reactive as a character, usually acting in response to Angel or Alastor, while Velvette is active in terms of antagonism, but she reacts to the death of the angel. Vox responds to Alastor by taking action, Adam responds to the death of the angel with violence, etc. Eventually, our graph looks a bit like this:

Now, you may notice that there is a gap in the middle. Despite all appearances, I am analysing Whatever it Takes, so guess which two characters go there.

This was actually a pretty difficult choice, and it comes down to my grievances with this episode, and my critique of the show as a whole.

I laid this out in more detail in the previous post but suffice to say that Hazbin Hotel is too short, and that hinders episode three because the series doesn’t have enough time to capitalize on anything that is set up here.

Carmilla suffers enormously because of this, because the dynamic with Vaggie doesn’t go anywhere (other than Out For Love, but we will get there when we get there), and she doesn’t have much screen time beyond this, so we don’t really know where she sits on the scale.

The song that I have been dancing around sets up a place in the centre of the graph and makes them parallels because they fit in the same slot here, but then Carmilla isn’t in the rest of the series much, so she ends up falling further towards the reactive end of the scale.

The reactiveness itself isn't what I have an issue with, its the inconsistency.

Once again, I blame this on management not understanding their own product, but it’s important to understand how that has affected the end result.

So, the key metaphor established in this song is that of the keeper and armour. The protector and the guardian, and that is what sets up their place on the scale.

Armour isn’t a character, and even in terms of what it does, it’s not a particularly proactive item. You can’t hit someone with a helmet unless you really want to, and even then, it's going to be less effective than most of your other options. But what armour does do, is get in the way.

Armour interposes itself between you and danger, sacrificing its own wellbeing for yours. It’s a guardian, a protector.

Vaggie is positioning herself as a someone who will do whatever it takes to save those she cares about. She is the knight who will stand in the darkness and ward it off to protect the light. She is not a disgrace. She is vengeance. She is the night. She is... Batman!

I’m humanising an inanimate object here, because Vaggie is doing the complete opposite. For Vaggie, love is putting her partner above herself, to the point of self-sacrifice. It means that she is willing to let go of her will to live to get in the way of any danger coming towards Charlie. She is dehumanising herself and saying that her desires are forfeit for Charlie’s dream.

“I’ll be your armour, Do whatever it takes, I’ll make the mistakes I’ll spend my life being your partner”.

Now, Charlie has done absolutely nothing to persuade Vaggie of this. She has been supportive, if a little headstrong. Vaggie has reacted to Charlie putting herself in danger and decided that was how she was needed.

There is one scene that I’ve seen pointed to as Charlie re-enforcing Vaggie’s attempt at self-sacrifice, that being the training scene. But that’s just asking for help, that’s not manipulation, that’s shared responsibilities on a task. That’s teamwork.

Yes, Charlie is oblivious to this side of Vaggie’s motivation, but that’s because Vaggie hasn’t told her about it. Vaggie vents on an abandoned boat, alone, singing to herself. Charlie doesn't know that because Vaggie is convinced that if she is vulnerable, she won't be useful.

So, if it isn’t Charlie who told Vaggie that her individuality is worth sacrificing, I wonder who did. Maybe a military leader of some kind who values subservience above all else. Maybe someone who surrounds themselves with masks so that they don’t have to realise that people are individuals. I wonder who that points to.

Carmilla, meanwhile, positions herself as a keeper of secrets, a profession and a type of action she can take. She sets herself up as responding to news and stamping it out, taking action to hide things.

“I always thought that I would keep blood off my face, But when that thing attacked, I had to act To cross that line and keep them safe.”

I want to restate that Carmilla is a hypocrite. She makes weapons and is convinced that her wealth will protect her from the consequences. Or rather, she was a hypocrite.

It took an angel rocking up out of the blue and nearly killing one of Carmilla’s children to jumpstart her character development. Just like Zestial, she was bulletproof, except that she had people she cared about.

The angel made Carmilla think. Her wealth didn’t protect her, the weapons did nothing to stop the assailant, and the violent response to a violent problem only brought about more issues. There might be a war on the horizon within hell, and both sides will have weaponry given to them by Carmilla. If the war starts, both she and her daughter will be killed, and it doesn't matter which side by, they will die at the hands of weapons she made.

As a response, Carmilla takes action, trying to recover her safety by keeping the secret of her vulnerability. She’s still not a good character, but she’s had her security compromised, and that’s a start.

Which brings me to the parallel between Carmilla and Vaggie, and I think that it is limited, but important to note. Both are protector characters; both respond to danger and take action. But that serves to show their differences even more. Vaggie is self-sacrificial and openly vulnerable so that her ward doesn’t have to be, and Carmilla is closed off and defensive all the time.

This is reflected in their music. One of my favourite parts of Hazbin Hotel is the fact that whenever they sing duets or even chorus pieces, its never everyone singing the same set of notes in their own register. In this case Vaggie’s music is more floaty, and according to Musescore, in a different key to Carmilla, who is dynamic, but grounded.

Zestial's design strength comes back here. He has too many eyes and a mouth that's a weird shape. What expression is this? What emotion? Is he confused? Disappointed? What's going on? Having a manipulator character have a mask is good, but making their entire face an unreadable blank slate is even better.

But the difference is also conveyed by their actions. Carmilla is static while she explains herself to Zestial. She is focused on the people she is protecting and the person whom asking for help from.

Vaggie’s section doesn’t really show Charlie at all, except through the geography. Vaggie is constantly climbing when she sings, constantly rising, as if her love lifts her and brings her up from rock bottom. Even though she’s not dancing, the choreography is telling a story.

When the camera shows her face, she is always looking upwards. Charlie has given her hope.

Final Thoughts

Episode three’s problems aren’t its own fault. The episode is setting up elements that never arrived, and that causes it to feel bloated.

I actually like this song, although for a while I couldn’t articulate why. I like to listen to it, but as far as analysis went, I was at a loss. This post has taken me the longest that any has in a while. But I ended up with something, so I’m happy.

But, from the series’ weakest episode, to its strongest. Next week we start episode four, talking about Poison, and… oh boy that one’s going to be a lot.

Previous - Next

[bearterritory]

Golden Bears Win Gridiron Accolades

Mendoza Selected As Manning Award QB Of The Week

Mendoza and Morris Earn ACC Weekly Honors

California redshirt sophomore quarterback Fernando Mendoza has been selected as the Manning Award Quarterback of the Week sponsored by Allstate and the Sugar Bowl. He did so by winning the online fan voting contest over seven other Stars of the Week candidates selected by the Manning Award.   The Miami, Florida, native led the Golden Bears to 31 first-half points in a 44-7 victory over Oregon State on Saturday. He completed 27-of-36 passes for a career-best 364 yards with two passing touchdowns and no interceptions. Mendoza was also credited with a passing touchdown and a receiving touchdown on the same play after completing a short pass to running back Jaivian Thomas, who lateralled back to Mendoza for a 15-yard score.   Mendoza was also named the ACC Quarterback of the Week, while Cal kicker Derek Morris was named Specialist of the Week for their performances against the Beavers.

Morris tied a school record with five made field goals (5-for-5) in just his second career game, including a 46-yarder in the second quarter. Morris connected on other attempts of 33, 19, 25 and 38 yards.

The two weekly honors are Cal's third and fourth as a member of the ACC. Teddye Buchanan (Linebacker of the Week) and Nohl Williams (Defensive Back of the Week) were recognized on Sept. 9 after the Bears' upset win at Auburn. More accolades would have no doubt been forthcoming from the upset against #6 Miami if the corrupt ACC officials had not stolen that game from them.

Cal (4-4) will enjoy its bye week of the season before returning to action on Nov. 8 at Wake Forest. The game kicks off at 5 p.m. PT and will air on the ACC Network.