#the image of jamie alone in the locker room looking around one last time made me very very sad

[supercorpkid]

Rescue Mission – Suicide Mission.

Part 1 - Destroy the family.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Brainy x Reader.

Word count: 2160.

Warning: Angst. Injuries. Kidnappings.

It’s by the tone that you know something is wrong. When the principal knocks on your classroom door, and you hear your name being called out, you know it. Just by her tone.

“Something is wrong.” You say to Jamie, before getting up. “You know what to do.”

“Good luck.” It’s what she answers, and you’re not sure why, but you know you will need it.

She knows what to do. Situations like this have happened before, where you leave your classroom and don’t come back for the rest of the day, or even for the rest of the week. You usually leave everything behind, and what Jamie needs to do it’s put them away in your locker in between classes, and hope you’ll come back in one piece.

Maya looks at you, with furrowed brows, like asking what’s going on, and you nod at her while biting your lower lip. Jamie will also fill her in with whatever lie she can think of that day.

You’re out of the classroom and looking around to see any of your moms there, but it is aunt Alex who shows up. This fact alone is more than proof that all hell is breaking loose somewhere outside the safety of your school.

“Thank you, Mrs. Goodwin. I’ll take her from here.” Alex says, taking her hand out of her jacket’s pocket and putting it on your shoulder. You walk a little down the hallway knowing the matter is important and secret. What other reason would bring Alex to your school to see you and not her own daughter?

“Well?” You ask because you can’t wait much longer. The principal is far enough so she can’t hear you, and there’s no one outside the classrooms.

“I shouldn’t have this conversation here nor-” Alex says, opening the front door and you don’t see her motorcycle anywhere. “Let’s just fly to the DEO. It's an urgent matter.”

She doesn’t have to say twice. You’re curious about what could be so urgent, and to figure out why your heart is beating almost out of your chest when she hasn’t even said anything yet, but if it's an urgent matter, you know she won’t discuss them in public. You pick her up and fly to the DEO in a blur, getting there faster than anyone can say ‘what the fuck is that in the sky?’.

“There was an emergency elsewhere.” Alex starts, marching down the DEO with you right behind her. Brainy silently joins her on the other side. “We sent Supergirl to look at this situation hours ago.” She makes sure to emphasize the word hours so you know it’s serious. “It could’ve been a diversion though, because a while later this happened.”

You look at the tablet that was shoved in front of your face by Brainy. ‘This’ is an image of L-Corp being invaded by what looks like a whole army of men.

“What did they take?” You ask, pushing the tablet out of your face, and back to Brainy.

“Only one thing.” It’s Brainy who answers, and Alex stops walking, turning to you with a serious expression.

“Lena.”

Your heart stops for a second, your stomach drops, and your breath gets stuck in your lungs. You expected her to say anything, anything in the universe, except that. You fight the tears forming on your eyes. You can’t cry, you don’t have time for that. You must save her. You don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself, or for this sick feeling coming from your stomach up your throat. You stop it right there. You don’t even have time to throw up.

“Supergirl?” You ask as soon as you manage to. Alex’s hands go to your shoulders, and she gives both a light squeeze.

“No response for longer than what is expected.” You feel your stomach dropping again. No response is not good, and you know that. It’s no trouble speaking to the comm, so if she is not responding, it is because she can’t do so.

Your mind travels fast to all the worst scenarios you can imagine. Kara not responding being Rao knows where, and Lena being kidnapped is the definition of all the things that could go wrong in your life. You can’t fight the urge of throwing up anymore. You run to a trash can, sticking your head inside, and you feel your throat burning when the food comes back. You clean your mouth with the back of your hand and raise your head again.

You’re suddenly filled with a lot of energy and a sense of responsibility. It’s all in your hands, you’re the one who needs to save them. That’s the reason why you’re here. You turn around looking at both agents with a serious expression.

“What do we do? Where do I go? How-How can we get them both?” You ask your aunt, waiting for a clear direction. She’s been doing this for years; she’ll know what to do.

“Lena is human, she is in more dangerous conditions.” Alex says and you agree with your head.

“Supergirl, on the other hand, might be able to help if she is here.” Brainy adds and you agree again. Only to realize nothing has been decided.

“I-I don’t know what that means.”

“It means, we’re with you.” Alex comes forward, giving your shoulder another reassuring squeeze. “If you go for Kara, we’ll go for Lena and vice-versa. It’s your call.”

Oh great, yes. Put this enormous responsibility on a kid’s shoulders. How’s that even fair?

“Get Supergirl’s last location. Find out who the fuck got Lena, and where she might be.” You ask Brainy who quickly shows you Kara’s last location on the screen. “I’ll go get Supergirl.”

It was not a decision, if you were being honest. It was a cry for help. If Kara can help, then you’re going to need it. You got one of your moms location, it’s a no brainer. Kara can help, Lena needs help. Two Kryptonians are better than one, should you think so.

You fly to wherever Kara was pinpointed last. You see destruction everywhere. Old -and luckily- abandoned buildings lay wrecked on the ground. Dust and havoc are seen throughout the place, and there’s no one in sight. No one, except. Except one hand coming off from a wreckage pile.

You fly down, easily removing blocks of concrete, steel frames and other indistinguishable wreckage, to find Kara trapped under them. Face all bloody, completely bruised. You feel light-headed at the sight of your wounded and bloody mommy. You drop on your knees next to her, tears blurring your eyes.

“Momma! Hey, hey, can you hear me?” You hold her in your arms, cleaning her face from the blood. She can’t hear you, you know that for sure. She is blacked out, her body feels limp in your arms, like a rag doll. “Momma, please. Please. Don’t do this to me.” There’s a burning feeling on your chest, like you might just explode and take this whole place down with you. But no matter how much you call, and yell, and beg, Kara doesn’t answer.

Kara’s hands are also bloody and bruised, like she’s been fighting for dear life, and you look around trying to find out what could’ve caused such damage to her. Her breath is weak, and her heart is beating slowly. You hold her tight, seeing your tears falling on her face.

“I’ve got Supergirl.” You press your comm, calling Alex. “She won’t be able to help. I’m bringing her over; get the infirmary ready.” You try to even your voice. “She’s beaten down heavily.”

“We’ll be ready for both of you.” Alex’s voice comes in your ear, and you pick up Kara’s limp body in bridal style.

“I’ve got you, mommy.” You kiss her forehead, tasting blood and dirt on the process. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except Kara, right now. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

Your heart is beating fast all the way back to the DEO. It’s more than painful, it’s a word you’ve never even heard before, a totally new kind of hurt. Having your momma so weak and injured in your arms. It doesn’t matter that you can still see her slowly breathing and hear her weak heartbeat, it doesn’t matter that you know that she is alive, because seeing her like this has made a part of you die.

You land inside the DEO, and Alex is indeed ready for both of you. You lay Kara on a stretcher, and some agents roll her out of your sight and off to the infirmary she goes. You know the process, yellow sunlight, blah-blah-blah. Your heart still aches, regardless.

“Lena?” You ask your aunt that is still next to you, hands on her waist with a serious expression.

“Come see something.” Alex asks, making her way to the big screen in front of you. And Brainy, coming out of nowhere, appears with a tablet next to you.

“It’s an encrypted message.” He says, and the message appears on the big screen soon after.

We will destroy the entire family.

“I’m working on finding the source of the message, but for now that’s all we have.” Brainy says and you look at aunt Alex, biting the inside of your mouth. The entire family is what the message says. You know what she’s thinking. You’re thinking about it too.

“They wouldn’t.” You say, shaking your head. But your heart is beating fast, like it’s telling you that they -whoever they may be- would.

“I have to be sure.” Alex says, and you sigh, aware of that too.

“I’ll go get Jamie; you get Kelly.” Alex is out of the room before you’re half finished. And you’re almost flying away when you look back at Brainy. “Find Lena.”

“Working on it.” He says, running to his workstation and you fly away to the school.

You don’t have time to clean yourself and look presentable. You are aware there’s blood and dirt on your super suit. You don’t care. You fly inside of your school, causing a big commotion with the students. Most of them get out of their classrooms and go into the hallway, when you land and start walking to where you think Jamie might be.

“It’s Superkid!” They all say, while taking pictures of you, and all the flashes distract you from using your x-ray vision well.

The teachers also look impressed, coming out of their classrooms to see you. You feel like a circus freak, with all these people shouting and cheering you, like you’re supposed to be doing tricks for them. It’s ironic to think that if you had your glasses on, you would be invisible to them.

You look around, feeling lost. The cameras are blinding, the cheering is deafening, and the more you look around and don’t see the face you’re looking for, the more desperate you get. You clench your fist, trying to regain focus, and look around the crowd when your eyes land on Maya.

You manage to speak, out of gritted teeth. “Ms. Olsen-Danvers.” You look around searching for Jamie. “Where is she?”

“She left.” Maya says, and you look back at her. Eyes zooming in and you notice her shaky breath. You step in closer, trying to even your own breath.

“Where?” You spit. Maya shakes her head in denial.

“Both of the Danvers have left with Jamie’s mother.” The teacher says and you blink at the realization you’re the other Danvers, and that Jamie didn’t leave with you.

You look back at Maya one last time, blinking a sense of calmness -you don’t really feel- into her, before using your super speed out of the school. “Alex, did you pick Jamie up?”

“I thought you were going to.” You hear on your comm, and you drop your head low. You were too late. “I came to pick up Kelly.”

“And?”

“We’re on our way to the DEO. Should I go to your school?” Alex asks, and your eyes are filled with tears. No. You can’t tell her that. You can’t say the words. They’re stuck inside you, like the hardest truth you’ve ever spoken. You feel like a nightmare is filling your surroundings, and you’re totally alone. You fall on your knees, vision blurry, heart squeezing on your chest. “Superkid? Should I go pick her up? Please come in.”

Say it! Go on, tell her! Tell her you were too late. Tell her they’ve got Jamie. Tell her they have Lena, and that they’ve beaten Kara to the point of unconsciousness. Tell her they have your entire life in their hands.

“Can you hear me? Superkid, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“Don’t.” You manage to say woefully, minutes after the first question was asked. “Don’t come.” You breathe out. “She is not here.”

[fictitiousfoodie]

Hockey Is A Family Thing

(Reader x Hockey Player Version)

Summary: A boy falls for a girl 

Warnings: Um there is a slap but that is it. 

Pairing: Reader x Ian Kildner ( fake person but like Jamie Benn but younger) 

Word Count: 2,597

Rating: 18+ for future parts 

Genre: Fluff Flirting 

Okay so here something to know before you read. The teams are real but all the people fake it was easier for me with this story. Yes I know the gif is Jamie Benn not the made up people in the story. This is my first story that I'm putting up please be nice. 

You stood by a high table, wearing a stunning and elegant black dress A-line gown with a respectable but fun slit up the side, talking to a relatively wealthy seeming older gentleman. His tux was custom, hair grey, and thinking, and the date he had brought with him was barely legal to drink, showing almost all her cleavage, and was sipping her cosmo through a straw. But, you didn't care about any of that right now. All you cared about was convincing this man that a donation to the team's charity would be a brilliant investment. 

"Mr. Mason donating to the teams' charity is not only a write off for you with tax breaks, but it allows lots of people to see just how good you and your company are." Manson Construction was responsible for building half of Boston and rebuilding the other half. They had gone through a string of bad publicity when someone leaked rumors of the company cutting corners regarding safety protocols to the local newspapers. The stories had been proven untrue, but it had still caused doubt in the community. Mason Construction was a good company, and you knew that. "Manson Construction on every banner we use when the team works with charities like Habitat for Humanity or does an event with local children's hospitals something like that could change how the community views your company," you said with a passionate and firm promise to her voice. Just as you finished your speech, a loud, sharp crack of noise erupted from behind you. 

Your brother Jack, the youngest of your four brothers, and his girlfriend Ashley had been fighting all night. You had been keeping an eye on it. Ashley was not a great girlfriend. You was pretty sure Ashley was in it for the idea of dating a pro athlete, and Jack was in it cause Ashley was hot. You had noticed more and more that Jack seemed done with Ashley's crap, and from the way Ashley was now storming out and the fact Jack wasn't going after her, he had decided to end things tonight in a public place. 

You turned back to Mr. Mason, who was chuckling to himself. "Your brother seems to be quiet, the unlucky fellow tonight in regards to love. But you are better than luck. You're smart, and you've got gumption, Y/N. I like the image you've given the charity, and I think it will provide great support and publicity for my business. I will send you a check tomorrow with the donation. If the team or the charity needs anything, you let me know," he said, smiling and walking away with his old wrinkled hand on his arm candy's ass. 

You shivered in disgust as you watched arm candy giggle and kiss him on the cheek then took a deep breathe you had done it. You had landed another massive donation for the charity. 

Suddenly a large and heavy arm flopped around your shoulder, and your oldest brother Brandon was there by your side. 

"Way to go, Y/N looks like Mr. Mason was very happy with the idea of being the teams highest paying donor', he said with pride and admiration for his sister. 

"He said he would send over the check tomorrow. I need a drink, and to get these heels off my feet are killing me." You laughed, walking to the bar. 

Brandon was the oldest of the four brothers at the age of 33. He had retired from the league last year due to a knee injury and hired by the team as the skills coach. Brandon was always responsible. He was the boy next door with a killer smile and genuine charm. The next one down was Henry, who was 31 and was the team's new athletic trainer. He was sporty and the smartest. He wanted to be a doctor when he was younger but found a way to combine his love of medicine and learning with his love of hockey and the team he had grown up around he immediately change to sports medicine. The third one was Eric. He was the middle one, wild and crazy. He was 28, had been on the team as a defender for four years now, and made sure everyone knew his opinion on any given subject.

Jack, the youngest of the brothers, was a sweet kid, but just that, still a kid in many respects. He had the talent and a good heart, but he needed to grow up. He was 25 and still trying to figure out many things about life but was too stubborn to listen to anyone's advice. Finally, there was Y/N , the youngest out of the five children and the only girl. You  grew up tough and headstrong, just like your brothers. Your mother made sure you was balanced, though, so she had put you in dance as a little girl, and you had loved it. You still went to classes and taught little ones occasionally. Your brothers were always there in the front row to cheer you on then give noogies after. You are 24, but most people thought you were older because of how you held yourself.   

All 5 of the siblings looked alike, all athletic, tall, and toned the brothers ranging in muscle definition. All five had dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. There was no denying they were family. The dark hair came from your dad, and the eyes had come from your mom.  The whole family was here tonight, and you loved that. Everyone in the family had found a way to be apart of the team or organization in a job they loved. You loved being around your family and the constant support they gave. Your mom had started the Boston Bruins charity when your dad had been a player. She was still running it and was grooming you to take over soon. Being a Bruin was a family thing. You had all been born into it and loved every minute of it. 

You and Brandon were standing by the bar ordering drinks when you saw out of the corner of your eye, Henry and Eric walk up. 

"So, we all saw the slap that Ashley gave Jack, right?" Henry said in a cautious and questioning tone. 

"Yes, the whole room heard it. Did you see where he went?" Brandon asked cautiously. 

"No, but my guess would be the locker room, someone should go check on him?" Eric said, turning towards you. 

"Yea yea yea, I'll go. Even though one of you are married and ones engaged," she said over her shoulder, walking away toward the locker room. 

You found Jack sitting in his locker with a cold beer pressed to his face. head drooped down and fidgeting with his phone. "You shouldn't call her, "you said, pulling the drink away to check out the handprint on his face. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had sounded probably just stung. Ashley wasn't abusive, just dramatic. 

"Why? Cause she slapped me?" 

"No, because she gave the bartender her number about 15 mins before that happened. You made the right call. She didn't love you; she loved the status."

"I know I just thought she was the one at the beginning. "He sighed as you sat next to him. 

You sat there with him for a few minutes in silence. You knew he would be fine just needed someone to lean on for a bit, and sure enough, after about 10 minutes, he handed you his beer and stated with new energy, "There are plenty of fish in the sea. I just have to find the right one, right?!" Jack jumped up and started walking to the doors. 

"Yes, just please be safe and smart and maybe go home alone tonight," you shouted to him as he strutted out the doors. 

Slowly you took a sip of the beer and sighed, starting to take your shoes off, enjoying the silence. You heard the doors slam open and Jimmy Peters and his date for the evening tumbled though not breaking the sloppy kiss and handsy embrace, they were tangled in. They never noticed as you grabbed your high heels and beer and left the room. You were in the hall on the way back, laughing to yourself about the thought of giving Jimmy a hard time the next time you saw him when you heard the classic catcall whistle from behind you. 

You turned to find Ian Kildern, one of the team's defensive players. He was 6'4" muscled more than the average hockey player and curly brown hair with deep green eyes. His tux was well altered; it hung perfectly on him, showing his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Ian was an excellent player, smart, lightning-fast, and a great leader. He was 26 and had been in the league since he was 19. The Bruins had picked him up four years ago when his contract had been up with the Tampa Bay Lighting. You were friends, but you were closer to other players, and usually only had a small talk with easy, polite jokes. 

"Y/N, you clean up nice." He said in a semi-serious, mostly mocking tone.

"Shut up, Ian. Don't you have a date to dazzle like the rest of the team?" you said in a cheeky and light-hearted tone. 

"No, actually Kelly and I broke up last weekend."

"Oh, that's right; her name was Kelly, and I'm so sorry to hear that after a week together, you had to call quits. You must be devastated. You said with a wink. Knowing fully, he had never planned on keeping it serious. Ian didn't sleep around a lot, but he also didn't keep girlfriends long. 

He chuckled, "Yeah, she was allergic to my dog." He changed the subject when he noticed the bottle in your hand, "You drinking alone - drowning your sorrows?"

"No, actually," you said in a matter of fact tone, "I was consoling my brother."

Ian's face squished up, and he sucked in a breath, "Yea, I saw - well heard the slap. Is he okay?"

"He's fine. It's his pride that's hurting more than anything, although he won't admit to it", you explained on a sigh. 

"Well, I'm glad he's okay. It's tough trying to figure everything out—the balance between the game and social life. Suddenly having money and not know if women want you the status or the money. It can be a rough and bumpy ride.” He said with an understanding tone. 

"You sound like you have some experience, but you seemed to have figured it all out." 

 "I had my mistakes and issues, but the key difference is I didn't have a last name that's attached to 2 legends. Jack has a whole lot more spotlight from the league because of your dad and oldest brother. I could make my mistakes in private." 

"So, you had a girl slap you in front of your entire team and about 45 VIP guests?" you questioned, intrigued to hear his answer. 

"Okay, well, no, I never had that, but I did have a date throw up on me at an event one time. Rachel Madison, I'll always remember that name now. She hadn't eaten all day and then started doing shots of tequila. The smell was horrendous. It was like...

"Ew, I don't want to know! Please stop you win. That's disgusting." you fussed, cutting him off and giggling at the idea. 

"Well, then, Miss. Date Judger where is your perfect event plus one this evening." He asked mockingly, looking around the hallway you two were slowly walking down. 

"Oh, I don't ever bring a date to an event that mom and I are running. I did once or twice and always felt bad that I left him standing somewhere while doing things for the event, plus dating in my life is hard. They tend to get offended when I know more about the game or jealous when I spend all my time here at the arena with you guys OR my brothers bully them, and they can't take the heat." 

They had almost reached the doorway to the main lobby, where the fundraising event was when Ian's ear perked up as he heard his favorite song come on. It Had To Be You by Harry Connick Jr. He grabbed your hand put the bottle of beer on the floor, and stated softly, "It's a great song - I wouldn't want it to go to waste since you don't have someone to dance with."

Surprised by the sudden change in tone, you lost your voice a little and had to clear it before asking, "Ian Kildern, are you asking me to dance?"

He slowly started to pull you into his arms, saying in a volume just barely above a whisper, "I guess I am. Are you saying yes?"

"I guess I am." you said, staring into his eyes and falling into the sway of his body. Still stiff at first, you slowly drifted further into the daze the music mixed with his look and tone of voice had caused, eventually allowing yourself to melt completely into him. Neither of you spoke to busy enjoying the moment. It had been years since you had slow danced, and you were enjoying being wrapped in someone's arms. Not just any someone, but someone who had made you laugh and had been having a good conversation with, not to mention he smelled incredible. 

Ian couldn't believe he was dancing again. He had stopped bringing dates to events because it always fell short of what he wanted the evening to be. But with Y/N, he couldn't help but notice you laugh at his story or the way you had softened and molded to him as you danced. Hand in hand, his left hand rested at the small of your back, your head resting on his chest right hand on his shoulder. You felt good in his arms. He felt something different for you, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. The music drifted away as the song ended, and you both stopped swaying. You pulled your head back but didn't pull away; you just looked at him, waiting for him to speak first, but Ian didn't want to say anything anymore. The smell of your vanilla perfume. The blush that had risen in your cheeks, the way you were waiting for him. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to feel those soft pink lips pressed to his. Before he knew it, you were wetting your lips and starting to lean in because you had wanted it too. Never one to miss the opportunity; he leaned in and pressed his hand into your back more, drawing you closer. He was a whisper away from you when Jimmy and his date exploded from the locker room with laughter, pulling the two of you apart. Jimmy and his date rush by you and unseen to the car in the parking lot. 

"Well, it's late. I should be going," Ian said, trying to hide the disappointment that the moment was gone from his voice. 

"Uh, yea, it's late. I should be finding mom to see if she needs help with anything. Good night Ian and thank you for the dance.", you said, turning and walking away before he could say or do anything. 

It took a split second for him to decide, but he had made his choice he wanted her. He wanted to hold, kiss, love, and keep Y/N forever. 

[yamithediaperdork]

Wolverine and the diaper boys part two

Jamie was chowing down on a bowl of Cap'n crunch when Bobby came down to the kitchen, walking a little weird. While Bobby was in a pair of tan baggy cargo pants and a blue t-shirt with a white strip in the middle, Jamie had the misfortune to realize he hadn't gotten his landry done like he had been suppose to and ergo was stuck in a pair of his yellow sponge bob shorts with a light blue shirt that had a teddy bear on it. Needless to say he'd already been teased about it by Kitty and rouge, though Jean had come to his rescue. Still this had long day all over it and he'd be glad to go and get it all over with as quick as possible. Bobby took a seat next to him and gave him a smile and nod, making Jamie blush and because he was thinking of the night before, that HAD to be why he was smelling baby powder. "interesting attire choice." Bobby commented. "I uh..forgot to get landry done and this is ALL I have left. I already asked ms.Storm about staying home but she told me it was my own fault and to deal with it." Jamie whined, huffing a little. "You know, if you 'accidentally' pours your milk on yourself when you go to drink the rest out of the bowl, and that's ALL you got to wear..they can't send you to school in your undies." Bobby pointed out and winked. "Hey! That's a-" Jamie started, but got cut off by Mr. Mccoy. The Mutant known as The Beast while 'working' so to speak, but just as Hank or Mr. Mccoy to the students had walked in, wearing his lab coat and getting a cup of coffee, and having over heard the boy's conversation. "Very bad idea." he said, chuckling. "And I'm going to pretend I didn't hear it..as long as it's not acted upon." Making his coffee beast paused, and sniffed the air then smirked at the two boys, thankfully the only ones in the room and then walked off, going to work on whatever project currently was holding his attention. "..Well i tried." Bobby said after Beast left. "It WAS a good idea." Jamie agreed, then as he finished his cereal, he was careful to try and not spill any..and still got some on his shirt. "heh, maybe you need a bib." Bobby teased playfully, only to get a glare from Jamie. "Ok..ok.. not funny. I'm sorry." Bobby said, finishing up his own bowl of sugar crisp. "Darn right!" with the boys washing out their dishes, there was just something about the way that Bobby was walking that was bugging Jamie, but the little guy just couldn't figure it out and gave up. "Wanna walk to school together?" he asked. "I don't see why not." Bobby agreed.

Little did Jamie know Bobby was ALL to happy to walk with the little dork who could take the blame for the scent of baby powder that hung around him, since Logan had gone a little over board. Logan of course claimed he's hand had 'slipped' while sprinkling it on, but Bobby had a sneaking feeling that the Canadian was just having too much fun with this whole thing. Still the semi waddle to school had gone off without too much fuss, Jamie had been going on and on about some silly cartoon and got really over excited about it, and Bobby had agreed to watch a episode of it to get him to shut up about it. 'the hell is a Paw patrol anyways?' Bobby wondered, but brushed it out of his head as he split ways with Jamie. getting to his locker he started to load up his backpack when his eyes caught his schedule for the day, and a wave of dread flooded over him. he'd totally forgotten about it till now, but he had gym class for last period. which meant he'd have to get changed into his school issued gym shorts and top..in a locker room with the other guys. and he was in a fucking diaper. 'I'm so screwed!' Bobby mentally wailed, and banged his head on the door of his locker as Ray came over, raising a eyebrow. "Yooooou ok man?" His roomie asked him. "Don't tell me you forgot to study for the math test today." "..That's today!?!" Bobby whined and silently looked up, wondering just what he had done to piss off the almighty.

Jamie huffed, three times already he'd been stopped and asked if he was lost, the elementary school was across the the street. Twice from other classmates who had been of course taking shots at his clothes, and worse, the third time by a new teacher who was just honestly trying to be helpful, and had said sorry when Jamie huffed he was in the 6th grade and even took out his student ID card to prove it. things didn't get better as the morning went on, between first and second period the class bully had managed to get a pinch of itching powder down the back of Jamie's shorts, and had gotten rid of the proof so Jamie couldn't get him in trouble. The side effect meant while it wasn't unbearable, he was squirming lots and looked like a fussy toddler, or a little boy who had to go to the bathroom. (and in fact his third period teacher called him over to his desk to ask if he needed the hall pass before he had a accident) finally it was 4th period and gym class, and Jamie was able to switch out of his itchy shorts though he got a lot of flack over his PJ mask briefs, despite what he was packing in them. "Doesn't matter what your packing if your too much of a toddler to use it." A freckle faced red head named Todd said, smirking. "yeah well even if you know how to use it, it doesn't matter if all you have is a tooth pick." Jamie shot back, and instantly realized he shouldn't of. since he wasn't allowed to use his powers at school, and Todd had a good foot on him and at least 30 pounds, Jamie wasn't exactly gonna win any fights. and even as the other boys laughed, Todd's face flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Care to repeat that short stuff?" he growled. "..Not really..Uh..Sorry?" Jamie squeaked. "Todd man, let it go..it was a good come back and if you get in one more fight your expelled." Anther boy called over. "..You watch your mouth." Todd huffed and shoved past Jamie, knocking him into the wall and leaving him alone to finish changing. "..Just anther glorious day in the life of a X-Man." he muttered softly to himself.

Bobby was sure he'd flunked the test, a combination of not having studied for it and being paranoid the who times everyone knew he was padded. the only reason he wasn't in a constant flop sweat was a by product of his ice based powers as he waddled from class to class, positive every time he heard a laugh or a giggle in the halls it was directed his way. The fact that a end of the day exposure laid at his feet wasn't helping and he was getting tummy cramps off and on and felt his bladder twitching lots, though he didn't DARE go to the boys room to relive himself. That was all he needed, a random kick in of a stall door (Toad was known to do that sorta thing for shits and giggles, though it had mostly toned down after Duncan had stuffed him head first in a toilet) and him with his diapies on display for everyone to see the big baby. the mental image filled Bobby with dread and unwanted arousal and he found himself desperately directing mental commands to his little soldier to stand down, but atlas, he was at a age where it had a mind of it's own. 'can't believe I'm about to say this, but thank god I'm not hung.' He had one hope, that when Logan came to check on him (and Bobby didn't doubt he would, the Canadian loved to follow though on his threats) Bobby would explain the situation out to him and hopefully get person to get out of the diaper. Failing at that, Bobby's plan B was to freeze the entire gym class for the duration of the period. Ok, it wasn't a good plan but it beat plan C, melt into a puddle from sheer humiliation. 'Come onnnn plan A.'

Logan noticed the time and headed for the door,walking out on the card game he and the other teachers had been playing despite the fact he was winning, Making storm give him a look. "Got somewhere better to be?" she asked, raising a eyebrow and hoping he wasn't headed to a bar this early in the day. The professor had of course banned all alcoholic beverages on the ground after some of the students had gotten into Logan's beer. "Yeahhh following though on a punishment I had to dish out." Logan said and smirked. "Don't worry, I'm saving my drinking for the weekend." "..Logan this doesn't have anything to do with how Bobby was semi waddling this morning does it?" She asked, crossing her arms. "Heh, it might. and before you get all high and mighty, at least I let him wear big kid clothes on the outside. Sides, you should be thrilled I'm following up on my duties here and not going out for some brewskis. just no pleasing you some days." Logan chuckled and winked, then walked out. "..I honestly don't get what Charles likes about him." She signed in a low voice, turning her attention back to the game and back to hank. "Ours is not to ask, ours is but to do. by the way, I win." The furry teach said, laying out his hand. "of course you do." Storm said dryly, toying with making a rain cloud appear over Hank's head then recalling how wet fur smelled.

After spending the better part of the free gym period being pelted 'accidentally' by balls thanks to Todd, Jamie was tired, sore and grumpy. not helping matters was the fact someone (read Todd) had stuck Jamie's shorts in a sink and soaked them..and Jamie HAD to return the gym shorts to the gym locker so they could be washed. Which mean he had two choices, walk around in his undies, or walk around in wet shorts. either way it wasn't appealing and he covered himself in a towel to go and whine to the gym teacher about it. Of course having NO proof it was Todd who had soaked them, the teacher couldn't punish him, and he wasn't willing to let Jamie use the gym shorts. the tone of his voice made it clear that he more or less believed that Jamie had wet himself, and had dunked the shorts in a sink to avoid being busted, though he mentioned he'd call home and see if someone at the Xavier institute could bring him some dry clothing. 'Great. just great. Mr. Logan is gonna think i wet myself and show up waving a diaper around! I bet he brings that stupid satchel of his and has diapers in it too!' Jamie huffed and fumed, stomping his way back to the locker room and tugging the shorts up. someone had tried to be nice and dry them with a hair dryer, but this had just resulted the legs getting semi dry and making it look even more so like he had wet himself. as he marched down the halls to grab his bagged lunch and go wait outside, he could see the amusement looks and heard the laughter and whispers, his ears burning. Of course what Jamie didn't know was put off by the brats attuide, stomping out of his office..the gym teacher 'forgot' to call the mansion.

Bobby was rocking back and forth in chem lab, his bladder twinges were a full on tidal wave just waiting to happen and his normal lab partner was thankfully out for the day. Still, working on a chemical solution that had to drip slowly over and over again when his own 'chemical solution' was begging to come out wasn't doing the Iceman any good. He thought about trying to do that old rhyme about crossing his legs but he was already getting weird looks from the station next to his and just flashed a weak smile. 'Almost end of class. almost end of class. you can make it! you're a X-man! you don't take shit from anyone! you..your..your wetting yourself.' He mentally cheered himself on, before realizing that despite his best efforts, the front of his diaper was indeed rapidly filling with piss. with was only the noise of all the lab equipment that was covering up the hiss and the soft crackle of the diaper as it bloated out, and Bobby snuck a look down and suppressed a groan (and a moan of relief at that from the bliss of finally going) as the diaper was starting to show, at least if you knew to look for it while he was sitting, getting up off the stool he was on, he could feel the hot piss slosh down and start to soak between his legs and even up the back of the diaper and for the first time he started to worry about leaking. 'Jesus what am I? a camel!?' he thought as he tried to will the flow to stop, "Mr Drake, if you would like to come back from whatever day dream is holding your attention, maybe you'd like to answer my question." Barked the old crone who ran the class, bitter at being called back to teach after the old chem lab teacher had disappeared (the school hadn't exactly been informed Mr. Mccoy had had a second mutation, since they hadn't know he'd had a first one to begin with.) "Y-Yes ma'am!" Bobby squeaked out, the flow slowing there there was totally some wetness on the sides of his legs. "what was the question?" "The question was-" the crone started, but was cut off by the lunch bell ringing. "oh who cares. get out of here, all of you." she said and hobbled off to her desk. saved by the bell, Bobby was torn between rushing out or waiting for the rest of the class to leave, his diaper had ballooned out and he was scared to put too much pressure on it, less he make it leak worse. if he could get the classroom mostly cleared, with everyone distracted he could maybe at least freeze the sodden padding. "Is there something I can help you with Mr.drake?" The crone said, suddenly a few feet away and a wicked grin on her face that had him gulping. most of the other students had cleared out, and knowing her penance for handing out extra homework, those few remaining didn't stay for long. "I..I..No ma'am. I just..um.." Bobby squeaked, his voice sounding higher the Jamie's at the moment. "mmmhmm.. I know a soggy bottom when i see one young man. I watch after my ingrate son's brats enough and not one of them potty trained despite the oldest being six." she said wagging a finger and smirking. "I'm not in a diaper!" Bobby said a little bit too quick and she cackled. "well, this explains why you were so distracted. did baby bobby bring a diapie change to school." this..was NOT the kind of attention he had pictured and Bobby's less then stellar boyhood was getting even smaller. "I..I don't." he babbled."It's..not a..I..see.." "Well spoken. well i can't let you go out in the hall's, your going to spring a leak." the crone said and jabbed at the puffy padding with a glass mixing stick, indeed making a wet spot appear on his pants. "I'll go and head for my lunch..and shut the door behind me. there's a plastic bag in the top drawer of my desk..just take the soggy padding out with you..BABY bobby." she said and cackled again before hobbling her way out, shutting off the light and the door on her way out. "..Why couldn't of this happened during history class?" Bobby whined out loud, thinking of how cute THAT teacher was.

Logan pulled up to the school and parked his bike, Nodding to a few of the other kids from the school who were a little bit shocked to see him there. He had his satchel over one shoulder with a couple of diapers and wipes in it, planing on changing Bobby if he needed it, or double diapering him if he was going around commando. "awww, the babysitter he's to check on the babies~" came a mocking tone from Lance, and Logan turned to see the brother hood standing there smirking. They clearly weren't TOO worried about Logan since it was school hours and with him as a adult, attacking teenagers..well it could only make the Xavier institute look bad. Still he gave them a grin and smirked. "Just because Mystique stopped wiping your noses and kissing your boo boo's better, doesn't mean you have to be jealous lance. i'm sure you'll find someone to read you a bed time story." Logan shot back, Making the geomancer blush and huff and go raise a hand. "Careful bub, you SURE you wanna pick a fight? if I'm just defending myself.." Logan said and he had a glint in his eye. "..Tch whatever. not even worth the effort. come on, let's go get something to eat. Oh, and Logan? one of your boy's pissed his pants." Lance said, turning away and leading the other mutants to their house. "..wait what?"

having gotten the soggy padding off and cleaning himself up as best he could, Bobby could tell he had a few damp spots on his pants but there was nothing he could really do about THOSE. he got the paper towel he'd used and the soaked padding in the plastic bag and tied it up tight, then put it in the back of his book bag. he had of course toyed with tossing it in the trash can in the room, but the thought of someone finding it wasn't all that fun to think about. And plus he wanted to show Logan WHY he wasn't wearing his diaper when he'd be checking in on him. with THAT in mind Bobby made his way out of the chem class, with a semi bounce in his step, feeling lighter and faster now that he wasn't crinkling and waddling from his huggies. he made his way to the front of the school, Planing on meeting up with Logan outside and spotted Jamie looking grumpy on the steps..and in soaked shorts. 'Ouch, guess I'm not the only one the tinkle fairy visited.' Bobby thought, feeling bad for Jamie and was about to over and comfort him when Jamie got up and dashed off. Following Jamie's gaze/the direction he was running off too, Bobby spotted Logan and smiled a little. 'Awww, must be happy Logan's here to save the day.' he thought, then the yelling started. "I'M NOT A BABY!" Jamie screamed, getting everyone's attention. '...or not.'

Logan was shocked to see Jamie coming up to him with soaked pants, but a quick whiff let him know it was JUST water, even if Jamie had tried to soak them he'd of been able to get a whiff of the urine. "Listen squirt I-" Logan tried to start but Jamie cut him off, clearly having had had a BAD day and thinking Logan was there to pamper him. "So either give me the dry pants or don't, I didn't pee my pants, and I don't need a stupid night time diaper!" Jamie screamed and stomped a foot. "Squirt, you need to calm down, I'm not hear for you, I'm just checking in on Bobby an-" Logan said, well aware of how many students just heard Jamie admit he wore diapers at night. With speed Logan hadn't expected, Jamie reached into the satchel and tugged out one of the bulky diapers and waved it around. "oh right! like this is just for Bobby! Don't lie to me! I know you think I'm just a big dumb..baby.." As Jamie waved the diaper around in the air, he turned to see Bobby who was frozen in place, and not by his powers, who was blushing badly and had started to wet himself. "Oh..uh.." Jamie gulped..and then also seemed to realize what all he had just said and that some of the students were recording him with their phones. (Diaper boy has a public meltdown would be trending world wide before the school day was over) His cheeks burned and he gulped looking around, then turns back to Logan with a sheepish grin on his face. "I..I kinda..just..really..messed up.." He said..trying to keep a smile on his face as the weight of what he had just done hit him. As the laughter and hoots started up Jamie whined and buried his face in Logan's side, even as a loud poot escaped and whether it was from nerves, some food not setting right, or just his big boy mind going bye bye for awhile, Jamie's shorts and undies started to puff out in the back as he filled them. Not to be outdone with his break down, Bobby took off running, his pants soaked and having left a smelly puddle on the steps of the school, bawling too and wailing "MR. LOGAN!" and soon was hugging the other side of Logan. Signing and patting both boys back, and wishing he'd had a clothespin for his nose, he let both little guys cry it out.

It was clear in the aftermath that neither boy was in any shape to stay at school. even if he took them home for a change, they would of been too mortified and too out of it for lack of a better term to go home. the problem there though was that his bike could only fit at best one of them, and there was no way he was leaving one of the little guys here alone. it was only the intimidating presence of Logan that was keeping the taunts and teasing long range, and Logan knew even if Chuck got to the students and wiped their minds, the video proof was already out there. 'the marvels of the internet.' Logan thought dryly. The solution to his problem soon appeared as Scott made his way over, with Jean  and Kurt trailing behind. "Jeez what happened here?" Scott asked, holding his nose, but looking concerned. "Long story. Look, Give me the keys to your car, I need to get these two home." Logan said. Scott hesitated, looking at the soaked pants of Bobby, and then the baseball sized lump of brown in the back and the wetness in the front of Jamie's shorts. "it's..not that I don't feel for them, but I just had the seats redone an-" Scott started, and Logan gave him a glare that would of made the hulk flinch. "I mean ok..but..how am I getting home from school?" Scott said Meekly, fishing out his keys. Logan took the car keys and handed over the keys to his motorcycle. "If you bang it up, your dead." Logan said then lead the sniffling and whimpering boys off, they were both sucking their thumb now and had sadly for Logan wiped their noses on his shirt. before getting them in Scott's car Logan did decided to be a little nice..to both Scott and the boys, and get them changed. "Alright guys, lay down." He said gently, pointing to the ground. "Y-Y-Your not..gonna..here?" Bobby whimpered, pulling his thumb out. "We're mostly hidden by the cars and those icky pants and shorts CAN'T feel good." Logan said. Jamie was already on the ground, any and all fight out of him and kept his thumb in his mouth, though he'd scrunched up his face when he'd sat down. "i..I'm not wearing my diapie Mr. Logan." Bobby said as he slowly got down. "B-But it's cuz I soaked it and it was gonna leak!" he added quickly. "heh..then that's ok Little Bobby. you just let me get you guys alll cleaned up. Jamie, do you mind if I get Bobby changed first? he's gonna be a quick clean up." Logan said, giving Bobby a warm smile then turning his attention to Jamie. the little guy just shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'your the boss apple sauce' and kicked his legs a little, looking up at the cloud. 'ho boy..Chuck's gonna have to take a look at them after this.' Logan thought and got to work.

The brotherhood was coming back from doing a dash and grab at a local convince store, handing the snacks they'd looted back and forth though Fred (AKA the Blob) unsurprisingly was hogging most of them. they were cutting though the parking lot when a rotten smell hit them and three of the four boys turned to glare at Fred. "Really man? no warning or anything?" Toad whined, tugging his shirt up over his nose. "If it was me, you'd be dead." Fred growled. Pietro chose to say himself and went to dash off to escape the smell, but came back in a half a second, laughing. "oh my god! you guys are NOT gonna believe this! and Fred, your in the clear." he said, then lead the way. the evil teens made their way though the cars and were greeted wit the site of Bobby drake, sitting on his ass and sucking on his thumb in a t-shirt and childish diaper..while Jamie madrox had just finished getting his poopie backside wiped down and was being taped into anther one of the diapers. Lance couldn't tear his eyes away from how loving and caring Logan was as he looked after the two big babies, and then got them both buckled into the back seat of Summer's car. "Bwhahahaha! their X-babies! X-babies!" Toad laughed. "oh man, Dad's NEVER gonna believe this!" Pietro hooted. "ugh, man, what a stink! gonna make me lose my lunch..just gross right lance?" Fred asked. "..yeah..uh..disgusting." lance said. what he was thinking as he watched Logan use a trash back to gather up the clothes and toss them in the trunk before driving off with the two little guys though, was hope much he wanted to be one of them.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 9

Previous Chapters on AO3

Chapter Nine

“No! We arna goin and that is final Sassenach!”

“What harm could it do for us to attend a party, for the crush. We are growers and should be present and seen.”

“Are ye forgettin lass, that ye have a vineyard to lose if word gets back to London?” Jamie tried to control his anger but was failing. Why was she so adamant about a party anyway. He had never found the value in such affairs. Dressing in stiff finery and smiling at strangers while he guarded his wife from onlookers who fancied her. Why would she torture him this way?

“What if we went for just ten minutes? What could possibly happen in ten minutes?” Claire paced in front of Jamie with every bone in her body feeling crestfallen. She missed the dancing, fancy dresses, and being noticed. She had been so distracted thinking about the Fiesta she never considered Jamie would refuse to go. He was being strong and practical. She was being a young girl of twenty-two who was woefully short on the appreciation of her beauty that had come to be the norm in London. She knew Jamie was angry with her for even suggesting they expose themselves to the critical eye and jealousy of the other growers. She knew he was right and it just made her rage inside.

Claire looked at the ground and felt tears of frustration coming. She knew she would not be hiring a dressmaker to create a masterpiece that would steal the breath from the women and the hearts of the men.

“I understand, Jamie,” just a whisper. She sat at the window seat and looked at her hands in her lap.

“Sassenach, I want yer support of my decision, but it isna required. We arna goin to the Fiesta lass.”

London’s upper crust was steeped in luxury and entertainment. An unmarried young lady was held to strict guidelines of behavior including an early bedtime, modest gowns, and minimal flirting. Claire used to watch the newly wed ladies enter with the most gorgeous dresses made of silk, satin, brocade, and feathers. Cleavage and makeup to entice the eye in front and a bustle that inspired wicked fantasies in the back. These women could flaunt their attributes gaining favor and flirtation from men while their husbands provided a safety net against serious inquiries. In many cases, the new wife was flattered and flirted while the husband watched but little Claire did not understand that part of the game. Prior to the first baby, it was a free and glorious time for the newly married, but short-lived as her smashing figure and tight skin gave way to childbearing, age, and the ravages of reality. It was Claire’s time to shine like that and every day that passed was an opportunity missed. She had rarely felt such misery and loss, and she struggled to cope.

Jamie watched her, waiting for her to come around, waiting for the Sassenach to surface with her practicality and heart of gold. What he saw was a spoiled, entitled, socialite who was denied her night at the ball. He was disgusted by it and left the room with long strides. For the first time since watching her fall off her horse in a field, he needed distance from her.

The cold night air wrapped around him and reminded him of who he was. A farmer, a Highlander, as far from the social scene of London as anyone could get. He walked through the vineyard feeling the peace, and the dual dependence between man and vine. His feet stopped and he stared into the darkness as his mind found clarity. He was a dirt farmer. Destined to pull his living from the ground and pray it was enough. He looked at the vines and felt the shameful heart of an impostor. In the short walk to his cabin, his heart broke, and his fairy-tale ended.

Misses Crook was well aware of the argument happening upstairs. She understood why Claire was aching to get out with her handsome husband, she understood why Jamie wanted to protect her. She re-waxed the kitchen floor just to find a reason to stay as far from them as possible. She watched Jamie enter his old cabin and felt deep disappointment in them both. She knew the single rule in marriage was to always find a way back to each other before you went to sleep. Her babies were acting selfishly, digging their heels into an emotional trench with no bridge between them. Misses Crook climbed the steps and went to her room, ignoring her charge for the first time in her life.

Claire sat in the growing darkness as the fire consumed the last of the wood Jamie had stuffed onto the grate. She had cried her eyes dry, and felt completely empty inside, searching for a meaning to this impasse with Jamie. She was so tired of being dirty, tired of looking out this window at a crop of silent grapevines, tired of waiting endless days for some magic moment when the harvest would bring gaiety and energy back to her life. It was woefully short of what she needed and the Fiesta grew in her mind as the next remedy. She could not see Jamie’s staunch refusal as anything more than exercising his right over her and that was not love in her opinion, it was oppression.

Claire walked downstairs to find Misses Crook or Jamie to get her out of her corset. Outside of her rooms, the house was dark, quiet, and cold. Finding no one downstairs she knocked on Misses Crook’s door pulling the woman from sleep by the look of her. Misses Crook pulled her laces and walked back to her warm bed without a word to her Mistress or usual help dressing for bed. Claire looked at her bedroom door close, before she was dressed in her robe or her bed turned down. How perfectly odd she thought and wondered if the older woman was sick.

The sheets were so cold on her bare feet she jerked them back and sat with her knees under her chin. Everything seemed wrong all of a sudden and the helpless, hopeless tears started anew. Claire flung herself out of bed and threw logs onto the grate like she was striking an enemy. She had never put wood into a fireplace before and decided it wasn’t hard at all. When the room grew warmer she got back into bed and realized how many nights she slept without Jamie. She could dress herself for bed, put wood on the fire, and sleep alone. Why did she ever feel helpless before? The fact that Jamie and his men were guarding her crop, catching those that would harm her, or brutally interrogating a vine thief was lost on Claire. She saw those nights as sleeping alone and nothing more.

Jamie laid on his bunk and tried to bring his sister Jenny to mind. Suddenly he was very homesick and longed for his peaceful existence in Scotland. They would never have a million-dollar crop or have to defend it with violence against a neighbor. There were no immigrants, only Scots who were generations on the same piece of land and grateful for it. But there was a serious shortage of porcelain dolls that could touch his heart from across the room.

How could this happen? He remembered being nearly starved to death and walking for days on end. In the distance, there was a lady surrounded by men on horseback. It appeared they were threatening her and made her horse rear. He saw her falling, suffocating, dropping into a landslide, bleeding to death in a cave, coming to him in a white dress, trusting him with her body, making him feel like the king of men. He was a gigantic Highlander that married a tiny, breakable woman. A dirt farmer that was suddenly the master of this million-dollar vineyard and tonight her world imploded because she could not attend a party. “What am I doing here?” He said to the dark.

When dawn’s light peeked over the horizon Jamie was deep in the vineyard running his hands against the giant leaves on both sides of him. He concentrated on their smell, color, and turgor and continued to walk deeper until he found the cave. Images of Claire flashed in his mind, sitting in his lap, arms around his neck asking for a kiss, her hand on his leg in the pouring rain waiting for one last kiss. He blew a kiss into the mouth of their secret place.

Claire had not slept all night. She had dismantled her rooms pulling luggage and shipping lockers from closets and then stuffing her gowns and under things inside for a trip she decided she needed in the middle of the night. Maybe she would discover her heart was actually here with Jamie, and maybe she would find it in London where she left it. Either way, she had to know.

Dressed in her finest traveling clothes, Claire breezed into the kitchen and found Misses Crook preparing breakfast for the men.

“I’m sorry for the short notice Misses Crook but you must change into traveling clothes and get packed. We’re leaving for London, now.”

Claire started walking toward the stairs and not hearing the woman behind her stopped and went back to the kitchen.

“I’ll no be goin Misses Fraser. I’ll no leave the men to starve or yer husband to waste away from yer wicked ways. I’ll remind ye I have stayed at my post for all these years because it was my choice. I am choosin to stay and I wish ye the best in what err ye chasin.”

“What?”

Claire’s eyes were wide with alarm at Crook’s refusal. She had not considered this and the thought of traveling alone filled her with fear. She staggered to the porch holding a hankie to her neck. Her gaze was fixed on the road and she just started walking. Nearing town she felt numb inside and incapable of thought. She could not remember anything except going to England. An hour later a coach pulled into the front yard.

Jamie made his way back to the cabin and swallowed a bowl of porridge. He watched his wife get into a carriage as two men lifted her trunks onto the roof. His heart ceased to beat, his lungs would not fill, and he watched the carriage roll out of the yard taking his life with it.

Hours later, as if waking from a long sleep, Jamie looked down at Donus’s neck and the dirt road beneath him. He had a fast, pleasant lope, and the miles stacked up left behind them. Jamie was startled at first, not remembering how or when he left the vineyard or anything that had transpired along the way. Then he realized his evil horse was loping toward the city without so much as a snort.

I’m dreaming, he thought and sat back to enjoy the ride he always knew Donus was capable of. He felt his pocket stuffed with money and remembered withdrawing enough cash to pay the men and his passage to Scotland. He remembered leaving a pile of money for Misses Crook to get back to England, or Scotland when she was ready. In his mind, he saw Rupert and Angus, clearly angry but could not remember much else.

“I’m comin Jenny, if I survive the crossin.” He spoke aloud just to hear himself talk. This was a long, silent, lonely trip into San Francisco, even if it was a dream.

When Claire finally reached the city her hired men helped find a hotel for the night and brought her trunks in. She was so tired she could hardly see straight, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. She climbed the stairs as a dusty Scot walked up to the rental counter and arranged for a room before going back out to book his passage on the next ship home.

Claire dreamed she was dancing in a large ballroom full of finery and beautifully dressed people. Her partner spun her around the large room and a hand touched her shoulder. It was Jamie and she smiled brightly at seeing her husband but when she looked up at him it was the other man who held her. Another tap and Jamie lead her away with a waltz only to morph into the other man again. This happened over and over again until she was frantic to find him. She ran after a red-headed man and pulled his arm but it was a stranger’s face that turned around. She saw Jamie across the ballroom walking to the exit doors and screamed for him causing the dancers to stop and impede her progress to get to Jamie before he left.

Claire sat up in bed panting for air and crying. She let her tears flow until exhaustion pulled her under again. She was running after Jamie as fast as possible but could not catch up to him. She called to him and he turned around and saw her. Her relief was short-lived as he turned away from her and climbed onto a ship. She screamed for Jamie over and over until she caught up with the ship. Reaching her hand to Jamie, she promised to go where ever he was headed. Her outstretched hand was inches from his but he turned his back to her. The boat pulled away from the dock and Jamie was forever out of her reach. Claire screamed his name.

Her next dream, she was running to the house after climbing out of the rented carriage. The hired men refused to help her anymore but she didn’t care. She was home to make up with Jamie and he would care for her like he always had. She ran into the house yelling for Jamie. Misses Crook grabbed her arm and said Jamie left for Scotland and was never coming back.

“It’s yer fault, so full of yerself. Ye gave him no choice. All the men are gone, they were only here because of him. Ah, Angus and Rupert are walkin toward the road ye have no hands left. I leave tomorrow so ye’ll be here by yerself. How long do ye think ye will last? Spoiled bitch.” Claire ran after Rupert and Angus begging them to take her to San Francisco but they refused and walked away from her.

Claire was frantic with getting to San Francisco before Jamie could leave. She would have to wait until tomorrow to walk to town and that was too long. She ran back to the house and tried to appeal to Misses Crook to help her.

“You must help me Misses Crook. I must get back to the city tonight and find him. Can you hitch the horses to the carriage? Can you drive it? Please, Misses Crook, please help me!”

“Claire! Sweetheart, yer alright, ye ken? Ye were just dreamin.”

“Jamie! Are you here?” Claire’s arms were waving in the air trying to find him, prove to herself he was really there. When she felt his face she flipped toward him kissing him everywhere she could reach. She heard him chuckle before he returned the kisses.

“Is it light outside yet? I need to look at you!”

“No mo ghaol, tis halfway through the night only. Come here and let me hold ye until ye sleep again.”

Claire was out of her mind with worry and regret. She lunged at where the side table should be and heard Jamie grunt as she landed on his chest. Her shaking fingers found the lamp and turned it up making Jamie’s eyes grow wide with interest. Her naked butt was inches from his face and he was stuck staring at it.

“That is so lovely Sassenach, thank ye.”

“What? Jamie! She looked at his distracted face and scrambled back beside him. She held his face with both her hands and looked into the eyes of the one she loved. “I am so very glad you are here.”

“Where else would I be love, but right beside ye?”

Jamie looked at her face, wet with tears, and he felt sad for her.” Come here, love. Ye had a bad dream, that’s all, although ye had plenty to scream about. He held her tightly, “I have three surprises for ye Sassenach. Should take yer mind off that dream. The first is I’m takin ye to the Fiesta.”

“No! I won’t go and you can’t make me. Besides, Misses Crook and I have plans for our own Fiesta…she is still here, right?”

Jamie chuckled again and spun her under him. “Yes, sweetheart, we are all still here. Will ye put yer love right here?” He touched his lips and she pulled him to her mouth for a joyous kiss that should have been a record-breaker, if only someone were watching. Claire felt him move through her, she heard his panting in her ear, and soon she was gliding through the erotic stratosphere, pulsing and clenching around him as he went stiff with his pleasure. He wrapped her in his arms and they slept.

Hours later, when the sun was an hour into its rise, Claire rolled over and crushed her nose into Jaime’s arm, wincing with the pain. “That hurt.” She looked at the level of light in the room and was very surprised Jamie was still in bed. “Why are you still here?”

Jamie smiled, “I want to ask ye about yer dream last night mo chridhe.”

“What dream?”

“Ye were crying in yer sleep, sayin stuff about..well, crazy stuff. I want to make sure yer alright today is all.”

“I don’t remember any dream but I feel perfect, and excited! We are hosting a little Fiesta right here tonight and there is much to do.”

Claire bounced out of bed and started pulling her garment together. Jaime watched her naked body and admired the tight stomach, bouncing breasts, strong legs, and beautiful eyes, that suddenly caught a strange sight out the window. Jamie smiled because she never missed a thing.

“What is that?”

“It’s a gift for ye Sassenach.”

She looked closer and jumped up and down clapping her hands before running from one end of the room to the other, yanking drawers open and pulling everything out onto the floor. She was finally dressed in her riding clothes and slid down the banister landing on two feet, then running out the back door. When she saw it she stopped and looked up at Jamie in the window.

Claire was thrilled with the large swing and looked up at the chains that held it suspended from the big apple tree. Her hand ran along the white-painted seat and backrest. When she jumped into it, the angle of the backrest was most comfortable. She exhaled and looked up into the tree feeling nature’s peace. Jamie pulled her legs up and laid down under them.

“It’s a bed for two, or a swinging seat for two. I suppose it will work for one person as well but I like sayin two. Do ye like it Sassenach?”

He looked at her serene and smiling face and did not need her answer. Nothing in his life had ever made him as happy as when he made the Sassenach smile. Jamie stood up and pulled her into his arms. Pressing his forehead against hers and asked if she would meet him here mid-afternoon. He had one more surprise.

The women wasted no time stitching a fine pad that covered the bottom of the chair. Misses Crook was so intrigued by the swinging lounge that Claire insisted she jump in and try it. Thirty minutes later she woke her faithful servant up, giggling at the three shades of red Misses Crook turned before walking straight into the house.

Jamie gave Claire a book of love poems and the couple curled up on the swing and read them to each other. Claire laid her head on Jamie’s chest feeling the vibration of his voice as he read and his kisses on the top of her head when it was her turn to read. One sonnet described her love for Jamie so well she was fighting tears before it was read and Jamie pulled her down lay next to him and kissed her.

“Ye are my angel, Claire.”

After dressing for dinner with the men, Claire felt excitement seeing decorations strung on the cabins. A pig was roasting in a shallow pit over a fire and filled the air with a sumptuous aroma. Cho brought armfuls of corn, the last of the summer vegetables, and placed them in the fire where juice from the cooking pig would drip onto the ears.

The Highlanders regaled Claire with stories of home, adventures they had as lads, comical mistakes they made when first in America. Their stories always returned to the Scottish Highlands where Claire’s mind filled in the woods, glens, locks, and sea. In her mind, she saw fields of deep purple Heather sway in the breeze. She looked at Jamie.

“Will you take me there one day?”

“Aye,” he said, with red-rimmed eyes and a heart full of gratitude.

“Saints be praised! What is this now?” Rupert stood up and watched a group of young women walk into the front yard and behind them there were more coming. The men all stood up and watched them come in. Like Christmas to a four-year-old, they just smiled and stared.

“Gentlemen. Best behavior. They are good girls. Please, introduce yourselves and be sure they have a good time so we will see them again.”

Claire had posted an invitation for girls ages eighteen to forty on the church notice board. She had no idea there were so many single girls in the area. The Highlanders tripped over their own feet making sure the ladies were comfortable and fed. When the music started, compliments of the local barber and his brother, the women never sat down as another man requested a dance as soon as each song ended.

Around nine o’clock, fathers and older brothers started showing up in the front yard, each taking small groups of the women home until they were all gone. Jamie pulled his wife to her feet and bid the men goodnight.

Rupert put his hand in the air and told Claire he had a crazy dream about her last night. Her eyebrows went up.

Ye told me to hitch Donus and Brimstone to the carriage and gallop into San Francisco chasing Jamie before his ship left for Scotland. He was laughing when he told the story and Angus was acting out whipping the horses making all the men laugh.

Claire had never heard such a preposterous dream. “Rest assured gentlemen, that will never happen. Goodnight.”

[megaphonemonday]

Prompt Request: it would be greatly appreciated :) Ginny plays a game of "never have I ever" with Evelyn and some of the Padre's WAGS. And learns that one WAG had a fling with Mike.

Okay, so I’m actually really interested in when Ginny realized that her teenage crush/idolization of Mike had become something more. Because I don’t think there’s any way that she walks out on a first date with a guy she seems to like a lot without having realized that she feels something more for him than she does her other teammates. 

Also, I couldn’t figure out an organic way to get them all playing “Never Have I Ever,” but if that’s important to you check out guys like you (which has lots of smut as a bonus if you’re into that)

just like a ring of fire | ao3

“C’mon, Ginny,” Evelyn practically whined. “You have to be in need of some serious girl time. You’ve been cooped up on a bus with just gross boys for too long. I can’t even imagine how that bus smells.”

“Like too much Axe and Drakkar Noir.”

Her friend’s nose wrinkled and Ginny had to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. It was only half true, but she liked how easy it was to gross Evelyn out. 

And it wasn’t as if Ev was wrong. She had been stewing in a lot of testosterone lately. Just, Ev’s alternative didn’t seem much more appealing.

Sensing Ginny’s ambivalence, Evelyn wheedled, “You haven’t even met most of them yet.”

“Do I need to? It’s not like that many of them liked me back in San Antonio or El Paso.”

Evelyn flapped her hand. “That was the minors.”

“You’re telling me the stakes lower for WAGs when y’all hit the big leagues?”

Evelyn, though clearly stumped by that, refused to retreat. 

“Ginny,” she pleaded, doing a remarkable impression of Gabe and Marcus begging for another piggy back ride. “I already told them you’re coming. Don’t turn me into a liar!”

“That sounds like a you problem, Ev,” she replied, cursing the fact that she could already feel herself softening. Evelyn might be immune to guilt, but Ginny was not. Especially not when her friend asked so little of her. 

“What did you want me to say? They were driving me nuts asking about you!”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Asking what exactly?”

The innocent expression on Evelyn’s face could’ve earned an Oscar it was so earnest, but it still didn’t fool Ginny for one second. She waited until Evelyn broke. 

“Ugh, fine!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air for good measure. “There may or may not be a few—just a few!—worries about their husbands and boyfriends suddenly spending all this time with a pretty, single girl.” At Ginny’s outraged look, she hurried to continue, “I tried to tell them there was nothing to worry about—you’re not that cute.”

As intended, Ginny rolled her eyes, some of her annoyance draining away. Some, but nothing close to all. 

“What about my code?” she demanded. “Didn’t you tell them about that?”

“I tried, G,” Ev replied, gentle. “But since you never slept with my husband, despite your many chances, I’m apparently not a trustworthy source. Or I’m trying to keep your options open so you don’t move onto Blip? I’m honestly not sure what the thought process is.”

A few humorless chuckles escaped Ginny’s mouth. “Figures,” she muttered, tugging at her lip in frustration.

“You know why it’s gotta be you. It doesn’t matter what I or Amelia or even your teammates tell them. These women aren’t going to relax until they’ve assessed the threat for themselves.” 

“Threat? Ev, I’m just here to play ball!”

“You know that and I know that, but they don’t. Yet. But you come in and set their minds at ease, tell them how much worse sharing a clubhouse with 24 guys is than sharing a bathroom with your brother growing up, and they’ll realize that you have no interest and chill out.” 

Ginny sighed. Unfair as it was, she really did need the WAGs on her side. The more of them that liked her, the less chance there was of stupid, unfounded rumors spreading. Both around the clubhouse and into the league. The last thing she wanted was TMZ running gossip from “unnamed sources close to the team” about how she was blowing her teammates to make up for blowing a game. 

“Fine,” she agreed, reluctant but willing to admit her friend was right.

“It really won’t be that bad,” Evelyn smiled encouragingly. “Honestly, it’s only a couple who have said anything. And besides, I’ve seen you charm the chaps off a bar full of bikers, Ginny; a few WAGs should be no problem at all.”

She nodded in reply and tried not to think that she’d take that bar of leather-clad bikers any day.

They settled on a night that the guys had their own form of bonding. Even though Blip and even Lawson had told her to come along, Ginny declined. Even when Lawson raised one cocky eyebrow and asked, “Why? Hot date?” to goad her into admitting—what? That she planned on going back to her hotel room and pigging out on ice cream sundaes? Or that she really did have a date? 

Sometimes, she just didn’t get him. Which only made her want to know more.

“I guess if you think Evelyn is hot, then yeah,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. 

Mike’s eyes glazed over a bit at the thought, his jaw hanging open just wide enough to put his wad of gum on display. Ginny felt a flush crawling up her chest, embarrassed and maybe—just a little—intrigued at what was going through her captain’s mind right then. 

It wasn’t until Blip warned, “Think very carefully about how you answer, man,” that Mike snapped out of the daze. 

“Well, uh,” he practically stuttered, gaze flicking to Blip’s glowering face before it bounced away in a blink. At no point did he look anywhere near Ginny’s direction, but that just made it easier to see his ears burning a dull pink. “Out of all the happily married women in San Diego, you couldn’t do better, Baker.”

“Damn straight,” Blip muttered, though it was hard to make out over the force of Ginny’s guffaws.

God, they were easy.

Both men bore her laughter grumpily, sitting in nearly mirror images of each other at their respective lockers: feet braced against the ground, arms crossed over chests and frowns planted on their faces. Every time she looked at them, the urge to stop laughing died a quick death. Soon, other Padres were glancing over, even chuckling themselves, though Ginny was sure none of them really got the joke. 

Finally, having taken enough abuse, Mike pushed to his feet, rolling his eyes. He wandered off, probably to have Kiki realign his back so he could actually enjoy his boy’s night. 

Ginny watched him go, giggles finally fading away. 

It wasn’t until Blip cleared his throat that Ginny realized she’d been staring. As cooly as she could, she turned her attention to Blip. He watched her with an inscrutable expression on his face and she did her best not to fidget under the scrutiny.

Finally, he shook his head, spinning back towards his cubby. 

“Tell Ev I’m not bailing her ass out of jail if things get outta control tonight,” was all he said. 

Ginny remained rooted to the spot for a moment, sure he wasn’t going to let her off the hook this easily. But Blip didn’t turn back around and she wasn’t about to look this gift horse in its mouth. 

“Will do,” she replied, hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulders and beating a hasty retreat.

Slowly, but surely, Ginny was winning over the group of uncertainly suspicious women gathered in the Sanders house. It helped that Evelyn had been right, there really only a few women who’d actually been worried about what her presence on the team meant, maybe three or four out of the twelve Ev had invited. They were pretty easy to single out in the group of happy chatterers. 

So, while Ginny only had to win over a few, they were all curious about her. 

Intensely curious.

“So, Ginny,” smiled one of them. Lauren, she thought, though there was also a Laura somewhere around, too. “How are you settling in? It wasn’t too hard to leave El Paso behind, was it?”

She heard the insinuation behind the words. Did you leave a boyfriend behind? Still, Ginny smiled pleasantly and took a sip of the margarita Evelyn had pushed into her hand as soon as she walked in the door. Not the exact one, of course, this had to be her third. At least. 

“It’s an adjustment,” she replied truthfully. “Not just the city, but getting used to a new team, their weird, gross habits.”

An appreciative laugh went up around the group. 

“I’ve said it before, Ginny, and I’ll say it again,” Evelyn announced, “I don’t know how you put up with all of them at once. God knows I love Blip, but sometimes he’s such a dude.”

“It helps that I get my own dressing room, now,” Ginny allowed with a grin. 

“So you don’t—” that was Laura, though she cut herself off with a flush. Ginny knew what was coming next. Hell, Evelyn had asked her this exact question herself. She waited for Laura to get over her embarrassment and finish, “you don’t see anything?”

A few stray giggles went up around the gathering, but Ginny knew they’d all be hanging on her every word. 

This was it. This was where she set their minds at ease. Honestly, she was just relieved it hadn’t taken longer.

“God, no,” she answered, definitive and immediate.

“Never?”

“Not up here,” she replied, knowing that honesty would get her further than trying to seem entirely innocent. “I mean, down in the minors, I barely had a curtained off area to change in, but it’s not like I was looking, you know?”

“I told y’all,” Evelyn said, a little smug. “Ginny’s got a code.”

“Yep. Don’t date ballplayers.”

“Not even once?” That was Sandra, who, if Ginny remembered correctly, was dating Widener. She couldn’t blame the woman for being a little leery, having seen the third baseman in action. Still, she didn’t have to act like Ginny was the problem. 

“Well, there’s always a reason for a rule,” she hedged, hoping they would leave it alone. 

Thankfully, someone turned to the woman next to her, “That sounds like a rule you should have.”

“What can I say? I have a type!” the blonde—Jamie? Jenny? J-something-y.—giggled. Ginny thought she remembered her waiting for Hanan at the player’s entrance a few times. 

“Baseball player’s not a type, Jessie,” her friend sniffed. “I mean, how far apart can you get between Sam and Mike Lawson?”

“Lawson?” 

The name was out of Ginny’s mouth before she could stop it. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jessie replied with a shrug. “That was in his serious hound dog phase—and before I even met Sam. Believe it or not, he’s gotten way better than he used to be, right after the separation.”

Ginny nodded and was glad the conversation moved on. 

Mike’s reputation was no secret. Ginny had heard more than enough locker room talk to know that the man was no Boy Scout. And even though she vividly remembered the brunette who dropped him off before her first road trip, she’d never been confronted so… personally with the evidence of it. That was the only reason her stomach turned at this bit of information. That was the reason she felt like her lungs had shrunk, making it so hard to breathe.

It had nothing to do with the fact that when the guys talked about this stuff in the clubhouse, it was always accompanied by jeering and hoots of laughter. It had nothing to do that she could pretend it was all a joke.

It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the how it had to be a joke. Ginny didn’t want to consider the alternatives. 

That she was jealous of this woman. For getting that with Mike, even if she hadn’t been smart enough to hold onto him. 

Given a shot, Ginny wouldn’t make that same mistake.

A buzz in her pocket mercifully pulled her out of those thoughts. When she saw its sender, though, she rethought the meaning of mercy. 

MikeIvy’s on Vine

Her heart began galloping along in her chest, just at the sight of his name. (Which she now realized happened every time he called or texted, as had happened with surprising regularity since the All Star Game last week.) And with the slightest provocation, that galloping transformed into a veritable stampeded. The memory of his smile. The fact that he was inviting her out again. That he wanted her there.

For a million reasons, Ginny knew this wasn’t her shot. That her shot with Mike, if it ever came, if he ever ended up feeling anything for her, was way down the line. Certainly not within her first season in the majors, and probably not even her second or third, not until Mike was out of the game for good. And who knew how long that would take? 

But none of that stopped her from feeling like maybe, in spite of it all, it could be. 

A flush began to spread up her neck, and sucking down the last of her margarita did nothing to help. If anything, it just made her thoughts swirl faster, spinning right out of her head, out of the house even, and into the night. Zeroed in on one person. 

Oh, hell. 

What had she gotten herself into?

Eventually, after another two or three drinks and dishing out all the best gossip she had, Ginny’d succeeded in winning most of the WAGs to her side. More than a few of them won her over, too. Which was a good thing. She could always use more friends. 

Still, for the back half of the evening, most of her thoughts were occupied by one friend in particular. 

Which was why she didn’t direct her Uber back to the Omni, but rather Ivy’s on Vine. 

She was allowed entrance easily enough, even taking a selfie with the bouncer. 

Like he was North, and her eyes a compass needle, Ginny tracked down Mike within moments of stepping inside. 

He sat at the bar, though he faced out into the room, no doubt surveying his teammates and making sure no one was getting too rowdy. A beer bottle dangled between the fingertips of his free hand while the other arm propped him up. 

In no time, Ginny was slipping onto the stool next to his, though she couldn’t quite remember crossing the floor to get there. She knew Mike had seen her, though he waited until she’d ordered a beer of her own to say anything. 

“Girls night packed it in early?” he asked, taking a swig from his bottle.  

“Yeah,” she breathed, unwilling or unable to take her eyes off of him. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d seen his face, it was nearly as familiar as her own, but suddenly it was like she was looking at him with fresh eyes, or, at the very least, through a new lens. With new information she couldn’t deny any longer. The bob of his throat as he swallowed, the way he couldn’t quite keep his head from nodding along to the music, his eyes scanning the crowd, no doubt cataloguing the positions and status of each of their teammates: it was all suddenly so fascinating. 

How hadn’t she really realized before what she was feeling? This was no hero worship, no six-year-old crush. This was far more dangerous than that.

His attention slid back to her and he raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked, “I got something on my face?”

It was on the tip of her tongue, this realization. Like it had a mind of its own, she wanted to blurt it out, get it out into the open, hating the way it crowded against her teeth like a mouthful of marbles. Fuck the consequences, she didn’t want to be the only one bearing this stupid, stupid feeling threatening to detonate her whole life.

Before she could, though, Mike’s eyes slid to the side. Just for a second, but long enough for Ginny to register the way his gaze trailed appreciatively over the pretty redhead making eyes at him from a nearby table. 

By the time he returned his attention to her, Ginny had beat back the tide of disappointment that had swelled up her throat, into her mouth. At least it washed away the words she’d nearly let spill. 

“Yeah,” she finally replied, fingers curling around her glass, “but I’m pretty sure a razor and some shaving cream will take care of it.”

He shook his head, despairing. “When are you gonna come around on the beard, Baker? This thing kills with the—”

“Okay, ew!” she laughed, hoping the churning of her gut didn’t show on her face. “If you finish that sentence with ‘ladies,’ I’m basically obligated to throw my drink on you.”

Mike laughed, too. “What if I was gonna say ‘fans?’”

“Ugh,” she groaned, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t know why, but that’s somehow worse.” 

 Her captain just shook his head, cheeks appling under the thick cover of his beard. “Don’t try and pretend you’re not my biggest fan, rookie,” he teased. Ginny froze for a moment, wondering if he somehow knew in spite of the fact that she hadn’t said anything. “I know all about your posters.”

She thawed, chuckling a little nervously. “Oh, it’s posters now? You’re really letting your imagination run wild, aren’t you?”

He nodded absently, but his attention was back on the redhead. She’d moved a table closer, talking to a guy there, but the way she was leaning, that put all her—very generous—cleavage on display. Pointed right in their direction. Well, in Mike’s direction. 

Ginny swallowed and clambered off her stool. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, just enough confusion in his voice to prod right at the ball of disappointment she’d swallowed down. 

“I’m calling it a night,” she replied, signaling the bartender for her check. As she paid, she couldn’t help but add, “Besides, I think there’s someone who wants your attention more than I do.”

When she finally brought herself to look at him, his eyes were narrowed. Ginny rolled hers and jerked her chin towards the woman, who was now watching them with open interest. 

Lawson frowned, “Baker, I’m—”

“Nah, go on,” she said, unwilling to know how that sentence was going to end. “Make a fan’s night.”

Before he could say anything else, Ginny was walking away. Not once did she give into the impulse to turn back and look. There was no scenario where she’d feel better by looking. Either he’d be wrapped up in that pretty, available woman or he wouldn’t. 

Ginny was fine not knowing. 

She just wished she could go back and not know some other things, too. 

[imagineclaireandjamie]

OMGOMGOMG. Please, more of The Getaway! It's so cute and I can feel the fluffy angst coming our way. What happened to poor Claire?

anonymous asked:The Getaway was fantastic!!! I absolutely LOVED it!!! Reminds me of my family holidays, the innocence of young love, and it makes me very nostalgic. Could you please continue it? It would warm my heart to see what happens next. Thank you, your work is always amazing!

The Getaway: Part 2.

Find part 1: HERE.

As the sun set on the end of their first week, Jamie sat alone in his room sipping on the cold beer his father had procured for him from the free bar. Placing the glass carefully on the coaster, he gathered up his reading book and lay back against his pillows, determined to get some rest in preparation for tomorrow's planned activities.

All of the adults had gathered together for the evening to go out of the hotel and eat together. Jamie had coaxed Claire from her room on the promise of food and company, promising to return her early enough that she could relax for the rest of the night.

They’d had a good time. Claire had been talkative, in fact they had conversed more in one dinner time than they had all week.

After their first afternoon out, the pair had been wrapped up in the whirlwind of trips that their parents had planned for them all and neither had really had a moments peace.

Just as Jamie was reaching to turn off his nightlight, an almighty crash sounded from the room beside his.

Claire.

His mind immediately raced with all manner of possibilities, but before he could consider the danger, he’d ripped the sheets from the bed and rushed from the room, forgetting to even put something on his feet as he began pounding on the Beauchamp’s combined rooms.

“Claire? Are ye alright?” He asked between knocks, trying to keep his voice low in order not to disturb any other guests, “Claire, please?”

The sound of a stifled sob made his ears prick as he leaned against the cool wood to try and hear her better. “Claire, can I come in?” He almost begged, his chest constricting painfully at the thought of her alone and upset.

Friends, he scoffed internally, hardly likely.

“It’s open…” a low voice spoke, hardly audible and from --possibly-- deep inside the suite.

Twisting the knob, Jamie pushed lightly, causing the door to creak as he opened it and slid inside. Closing it to, he padded through the main lounge and into the tiny single room that Claire occupied.

At first he couldn’t spot her, sat as she was beside the best, but then he caught sight of her hair, the mass of curls spiking in all directions as she lay her head back against the mattress.

“What’s the matter?” Jamie whispered as he walked around the bed and knelt at her side.

He could see the fresh tear tracks that ran down her face, the thin moonlight filtering through the net curtains throwing a melancholy blue hue over her curled form.

“It’s nothing, honestly, Jamie,” she murmured back, her voice unsteady as she tried to show some strength.

“It isna nothing if it has ye on the floor in tears, Claire.” He returned, unwilling to accept that she was fine. She wasn’t, that was clear to see.

Her cheeks flushed as she viewed him --with some caution-- out of the corner of her eye. “I just had a nightmare, that’s all. Don’t worry, really. I have them all the time. It was just waking up in a strange bed that startled me more than usual.”

Jamie reached his hand forward to brush a wayward lock of hair from her damp brow, bringing his digits down lower afterwards to wipe away some of her tears.

“Does this happen every night?” He asked, softly, the need to acquire as much information about her overwhelming him.

“M-most,” she stuttered, sliding herself off the floor as she shift the twisted bedsheets, straightening them out as best she could, keeping her hands busy as she spoke, “but when I’m at home I’m not usually so...jumpy. Here, with the h-heat, and the strange room --and bed-- I’m more hyper-aware, I think.”

“Do ye want to talk about it?” Jamie broached, his tone wary but open as he tried to offer his support.

Claire squeezed the cotton linens between her fingers tight, her knuckles going almost white as she licked her lips and shifted her feet against the cold tiles of the bedroom floor. Shaking her head, she glanced towards him once more, a beautiful pink glow lighting her high cheekbones.

“Would you just...stay with me, just for a little while?” Shrugging her shoulders, she let the much abused sheets go, watching as they fluttered slowly back onto the top of the bed, ruffling once more as they landed in a small heap.

Claire didn’t dare look up, lest he reject her.

He could feel her vibrating, her knees shaking as she waited for his response. She wanted to talk, of that he was sure, but she was also hesitant.

Jamie had yet to learn of the traumatic event that had her so subdued, but if she needed him to rest with her whilst she relaxed, he would do it.

“Aye, o’ course, Claire.” He replied, finally, making his way around to the other side of the bed and holding the sheets up for her to crawl under.

Wrapping her up to her waist in the flimsy fabric, he curled himself by her side, fitting himself neatly onto the queen sized mattress.

Claire closed her eyes and shimmied herself to his side, nuzzling her nose against the exposed skin of his collarbone as she snuck her arm around his waist.

As they settled, a sort of calm quiet rose up around them. Jamie was half convinced she’d fallen asleep in his arms. And, although he didn’t altogether mind (in fact, quite the opposite), he knew their parents would riot if they came home to find Jamie in Claire’s bed.

Just as he was about to reignite the conversation, Claire shifted ever so slightly. The gently waft of her breath blew over his sensitive skin, making him shudder at the contact. It wasn’t long before he felt her blink her eyes open once more as she mentally prepared herself.

“It all started back in September,” Claire began, a hint of hesitance lingering in her tone as she relayed her story.

“He c-came from another school, the boy. He’d failed his A Levels and had been forced to take them again. But his previous school hadn’t allowed him to do that there. It all seemed innocent to us, back then.”

Pausing, Claire took a deep breath and steadied herself, her hands curling around the bottom of Jamie’s shirt as she grounded herself in him.

“He seemed nice at first, friendly, just the sort who wanted to fit in, you know? But then, after we came back from Christmas holidays he became really --intense…” gulping back the saliva that had gathered in her mouth, she took another deep breath.

Jamie could feel the fear radiating from her and he began rubbing soothing circles against her back as she let her shoulders slacken with every sweeping motion he made.

“Did he hurt ye, Claire?” He broke in, his voice low but steady. He had wanted to stay silent and let her just tell him, but his impatience got the better of him.

“He asked me out, we had a Valentine’s Day dance coming up and he’d wanted to take me...but I said no. I didn’t mind him as my friend, but--” stopping, Claire’s heart began to pound.

Jamie sensed the story was coming to a conclusion and brought his lips to her forehead as his silent gesture bade her to continue --at her own pace.

Not ready to admit the main reason she hadn’t wanted to accompany another to the dance, Claire shimmied her hips closer before finishing, an inbuilt need for close comfort rising inside of her at Jamie’s close proximity.

“I could see it made him mad, but I didn’t think anything of it. After that I didn’t see him again until after half term. I didn’t go to the dance, I had exam prep and I really didn’t want to go anyway…” steeling herself, Claire prepared to skip to the end, eager for this to be over once more, “I was studying with my science teachers after school one day, t-they’d all left moments before and I just stayed to pack up my books. He waited for me there. Jumped out when I came out of the lab and t-threw me against the lockers...I don’t, well, I--” she sobbed, squeezing her eyes closed tight as the images of that fateful day exploded before her eyes.

“Oh, Claire,” Jamie sighed, his heart going out to her as he hushed her and rocked her shaking body as best he could, “I’m sae sorry, mo chridhe.”

“I was lucky,” she whispered, sorrow laced into every syllable. She didn’t sound particularly lucky. “One of the teachers had forgotten his books and came back. He saw it all and forced him off me...I honestly don’t know what I’d have done without him.”

“You would have fought, Claire,” Jamie interceded, trying to lend her as much emotional support as physical, “ye would have screamed and punched and kicked as best ye could.”

Laughing humorlessly, Claire shook her head. “But I didn’t. He had me by the throat, his knee between my legs...I couldn’t even move to defend myself.”

“That wa’ just the shock. You are so brave, Claire Beauchamp, braver than me. I truly believe ye would have plucked up the strength. As ye have done to continue on as ye have after it.”

Running her damp lips against him, Claire let her tongue taste the salty-sweetness of him, her hands quivering as she pulled herself flush against him.

Now, a small part of her tried to reason, when she was in a heightened state of awareness and anxiety, was not the time to be making advances. Especially not on her parent’s best friends son.

“I lied before,” she said, her voice clear now as she sniffled, the last of her tears shed on the matter.

“About what, Claire?” Jamie returned, a low sort of seduction in his tone as he battled with himself.

She was so very warm and pliant --and she wanted him.

“I don’t want to just be your friend, but I was scared...so I lied.”

Swallowing audibly, Jamie ran his nose down her forehead to the bridge of her nose, his eyes hooded as he kissed the tip of it. The reverent gesture sent lightning bolts of pleasure down Claire’s spine as she rolled her hips away from his and then back again.

“Ah Dhia, Claire,” he gasped, goosebumps rising over his arms in waves as he tried to remain calm. “I want ye too, but we canna…”

“Why not?” She interrupted, need seeping though every word.

“Because yer hurting now. Ye’ve relieved all those horrid memories from only a few short months ago. I willna take advantage of ye when yer morale is low. That wouldna be verra gentlemanly of me--”

“It isn’t taking advantage, Jamie, if I *want* you,” Claire cut in, her hands resting softly against his lower back as she spoke, “but if you don’t want to, then I understand.”

Something about re-telling her traumatic tale had set alight the previously stagnant embers, causing a roaring flame to spark within Claire as she smoothly scooched her head backwards. Opening her now glazed eyes, she viewed him with a sort of wonder. The idea of him, the same Jamie Fraser she’d seen grow from a boy into a man, loving her made her thighs tingle pleasantly.

“Claire; how could I *not* want to?” He replied, his heart running at a million miles a minute as part of him actively contemplated this new situation.

Could he?

“Then come to me, Jamie,” she whispered, her tone seductive as she tilted her head against the pillow and moved forward, her lips hovering so close to his in askance. “I want you Jamie Fraser...to be the first --the only-- one to make love to me.”

Without waiting for him to respond, Claire closed the gap, letting her lips seal tightly against his in a searing kiss. Her hands tugged at his shorts as she tried to untangle her legs from beneath the blankets without much success.

“Please, Jamie,” she half-begged, half-coaxed, their mouths parting only briefly for her to say the words, “I want this, I really want this. *I love you*”

Running his hand through her hair, Jamie lightly pulled Claire away, his eyes meeting hers in a very serious gaze. She was serious, in this moment, as they were, she was completely serious about this.

“Bloody hell, Claire, ye arena making this easy,” he sighed, resigned, “but I want this too. I want ye.”

For the second time that evening, the weight left Claire’s shoulders and she slunk towards him, a small smile adorning her lips. She could feel the victory just in her grasp.

“But I have conditions first, aye?”

Glancing at him with a wary expression, Claire nodded, urging him to continue.

“If yer still sure o’ this tomorrow, I promise ye I’m yours, ken? But I want ye to sleep on it --and--,” he finished, noticing her irritation at his stalling tactics, “I’ll make sure I have protection. I dinna have any on my now, and I willna do it wi’out protecting ye --and me-- first. Do ye agree?”

Sighing loudly, Claire swallowed and nodded.

“I won’t change my mind, Jamie. But you’re right.”

Snuggling down once more, she clenched her thighs together, willing the fervour that had built within her to at least lessen as she closed her eyes and let her head flop against the soft pillow.

“Just don’t leave me,” she added sleepily, yawning as she spoke, “stay with me, Jamie. For tonight, please?”

Wrapping the comforter around her shoulders, Jamie nodded, shutting his own eyes now as he began to relax.

“Aye, mo nighean donn. I’ll stay wi’ ye. Sleep now, Claire --I love ye.”

[debraleedebra]

Nick Saban decide between Tua Tagovailoa or Jalen Hurts Alabama Crimson Tide starter

9:00 AM ET

Chris Low & Alex Scarborough

TUSCALOOSA, Ala. -- No matter how many times the final two plays of the College Football Playoff National Championship have been replayed within the Alabama football offices this offseason, they still don't make sense.

One play, Tua Tagovailoa appears lost, scrambling wildly before committing the cardinal sin of taking a sack and a loss of 16 yards on first down in overtime. Down by three points, backed out of comfortable field goal range at the 41-yard line, it's a complete disaster. But the freshman quarterback does the unthinkable on the next play: Calmly, he takes the shotgun snap, steps up in the pocket and fires a picturesque, game-winning touchdown pass for a 26-23 win.

Tua Tagovailoa threw the game-winning touchdown pass to give Alabama the national championship. Jamie Squire/Getty Images

Confetti falls from the rafters. The trophy is lifted. All is forgiven. But Alabama's coaches can't forget. The 35 seconds from the moment Tagovailoa hit the turf to the moment that fateful touchdown pass left his hand is as concerning as it is inspiring. It's agonizing, really, the wrench thrown into one of the most high-profile and high-stakes quarterback battles in recent memory.

Should Saban ride the momentum and the promise of a wild card with zero career starts in Tagovailoa? Or should he stick with Jalen Hurts, the quarterback who started the title game, who threw only one interception all season and has a 26-2 career record, but also serious questions about his ability to throw the football with consistency?

"I can promise you he's not going to be leveraged by anybody on either side." Source close to Nick Saban

"A great moment doesn't make a great season," warned Clemson coach Dabo Swinney. "It's a different deal when you're the guy. Everything matters."

Everyone seems to have an opinion on what Saban should do. The Tagovailoa and Hurts camps want a decision, and would like one quickly, as they consider their long-term plans. But the 66-year-old Saban isn't in a rush. If anything, he sees the problem he has as a good one.

Are we headed for another Nick Saban-Dabo Swinney playoff clash? That's certainly what it looks like. Find out where the rest of the CFP contenders fit in.

Huskers hysteria with Scott Frost, the Vols' document dump, Kyler Murray's big payday, and Texas A&M's championship expectations among topics that dominated off the field.

Coming up with a preseason top 25 is just the start of the fun. Now we can argue about it. Who can make a playoff run from outside the top 10 and which top-10 team will struggle?

2 Related

"It's better to have two quarterbacks than none," he said.

The plan is simple: Ignore the noise, split the first-team reps down the middle when fall camp begins today and let their play decide the outcome.

"I can promise you he's not going to be leveraged by anybody on either side," a source close to Saban said. "You're talking about a guy who parted ways with his offensive coordinator [Lane Kiffin] the week before the national championship game, and then the next year, the same guy who benched his starter and turned to a true freshman quarterback who hadn't played a meaningful snap all season in the second half of the national championship game. He's not going to be afraid to make the decision he feels like he needs to make."

How did we get here?

Alabama's quarterback battle didn't begin the moment Saban benched Hurts at halftime of the national championship game. Not really. What happened against Georgia, when Tagovailoa became an overnight sensation, only served to pour lighter fluid on an already simmering situation.

Alabama offense by QB in title game

HurtsTagovailoaPlays2446Yards94278Yds per play3.96.0TD03

Inside the Alabama coaching offices, Hurts' hold on the starting job had become increasingly unstable over the course of the previous year. Despite winning SEC Offensive Player of the Year honors as a true freshman in 2016, he hadn't shown significant progress as a passer. The offense had become stagnant and, according to multiple sources, skill players had grown frustrated with Hurts' inability to spread the ball around.

Granted, the offense was still effective in most games with Hurts running the ball, but its one-dimensional nature left the potential for exploitation against higher-quality defenses. Case in point: Alabama's only two losses over the course of the last two seasons came to Auburn and Clemson, two teams loaded with defensive line talent that finished in the top 11 nationally in scoring defense in each of the past two years.

Meanwhile, Tagovailoa captured the attention of coaches in practice with his arm strength and accuracy. It was as if the lefty from Hawaii had eyes on the sides of his head, he had such a good feel for the pass rush.

While Saban sticking with Hurts as the starter wasn't necessarily a surprise because of his experience, the fact that Tagovailoa's role was limited solely to mop-up duty was. Of the seven games during the regular season in which Tagovailoa attempted at least one pass, all were blowouts of 18 points or more.

However, there was confidence among coaches that Tagovailoa was ready for the big stage.

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The defending champs define consistent excellence, but QB uncertainty and a reliance on youth have them far from comfortable.

"Hurts was undefeated before the Auburn game," said one former staffer. "I don't care how tight the other guy's spirals are. You don't pull an undefeated quarterback for an unknown one. But things ramped up with all the free time after the loss to Auburn."

The Tide still made the College Football Playoff despite a 26-14 loss to their rival in the regular-season finale. In the lead-up to their semifinal game against Clemson, Hurts fell ill and was forced to miss several days of practice. Tagovailoa received all of the first-team reps as a result, and the practices were some of the best for the offense all season. As one former coach put it, "I don't think the ball hit the ground."

The plan was to play Tagovailoa some against Clemson, sources confirmed, and it was discussed among coaches during the game when might be the best time to put him in. But even with Hurts struggling to get anything going in the passing game, it became apparent that Clemson wasn't going to move the ball against Alabama's defense, and coaches ultimately decided to keep Tagovailoa on the sideline, fearing a change might affect Hurts' psyche for the championship game.

Alabama initially planned on playing Tua Tagovailoa in the CFP semifinal against Clemson. AP Photo/David J. Phillip

Feeling let down, the Tagovailoa family expressed its frustration with the situation and, internally, came to a decision: If Tagovailoa didn't play against Georgia, he was going to seriously explore transferring.

During the ESPN MegaCast Coaches Film Room broadcast, Oklahoma State coach Mike Gundy said that he couldn't have predicted Saban benching Hurts at halftime, let alone in favor of a true freshman quarterback with no meaningful experience.

"In there, when we weren't on television, we were surprised," Gundy said months later. "Everybody was like, 'Would you do that? I don't know if I'd do that. Would you do it? I don't know.' So we were a little bit shocked."

Since winning the game's Offensive MVP award that night, Tagovailoa has become the toast of Tuscaloosa. He gave a pregame speech to the Alabama women's basketball team and delivered the first serve at an Alabama men's tennis match. The Westgate Las Vegas SuperBook gave him 10-1 odds to win the Heisman Trophy, trailing only Stanford's Bryce Love (5-1) and Wisconsin' Jonathan Taylor (7-1), even though Hurts hadn't yet been technically dethroned as the starter.

2018 Heisman Trophy Odds

PlayerOddsBryce Love, RB, Stanford5-1Jonathan Taylor, RB, Wisconsin7-1Tua Tagovailoa, QB, Alabama10-1Jake Fromm, QB, Georgia14-1Justin Herbert, QB, Oregon14-1Khalil Tate, QB, Arizona14-1>>Westgate Las Vegas

But for anyone who didn't think it was an actual competition, all they needed to do was see Tagovailoa return to practice in the spring, only a few days after breaking a finger in his throwing hand. After all, who risks further injury if they're a sure thing? At the spring game, despite being unable to play, Tagovailoa dressed in full pads.

The same morning, in a move that wasn't seen as a coincidence by some, his brother, 2019 quarterback Taulia Tagovailoa, verbally committed to Alabama on the steps of Bryant-Denny Stadium.

Despite Tagovailoa's absence, however, Hurts failed to capitalize on having the stage to himself, completing 19 of 37 passes for 195 yards, no touchdowns and an interception.

It should be said that despite the competition and the whirlwind surrounding them, Hurts and Tagovailoa aren't bitter enemies. They're quite supportive of one another. Tagovailoa never let his chagrin over a lack of playing time during the regular season affect his relationship with Hurts, whom he thanked for showing him the ropes as a true freshman. And when Tagovailoa supplanted Hurts in the title game, no one in the Alabama locker room was happier for Tagovailoa than Hurts, who told reporters that his understudy was "built for this."

Alabama offensive lineman Ross Pierschbacher said that if he had a dollar for every time he has been asked about his team's quarterback situation this offseason, he'd have enough money to retire. He never could have ever envisioned this situation a year ago, saying that if he had been told then that Hurts would eventually be battling for his job he would have said, "You're crazy."

"It's a testament to recruiting and just bringing in a lot of talented guys," Pierschbaher explained. "Really, at Alabama, your position is never safe, regardless of who you are."

Can Hurts and Tagovailoa coexist?

Jalen Hurts, left, and Tua Tagovailoa have been supportive of each other despite their competition. AP Photo/Brynn Anderson

Make no mistake: If Hurts were to become available on the transfer market, he would be a hot commodity. A proven winner with 61 touchdowns in two seasons, suitors would be lining up at his door. It's not just that he can run, one head coach said of Hurts, "but he also sees the field and has a great arm."

That's why his father, Averion, wasn't necessarily wrong when he told Bleacher Report this spring that his son would be "the biggest free agent in college football history" if he were to transfer. But while transferring certainly is an option for Hurts, it has never been a threat. Before the article was published, Averion met with Saban one-on-one to tell him that they were content to let the competition play out rather than leave early. If a difficult decision had to be made, then so be it, but that would only happen after a starter was named.

Shortly after the article was released, Averion called to reiterate to Saban that nothing had changed from their previous conversation. What went largely unsaid at that time, though, was that Tagovailoa was in a similar situation. Intimating the possibility of transferring, he told people he didn't want to go through another season as the backup.

In June, new legislation paved the way for both quarterbacks to coexist: The NCAA would now allow players to compete in up to four games while still retaining the ability to redshirt. So if Saban wanted to carry the competition into the first few games of the season -- as he's done time and time again in the past -- he is now free to do that without either quarterback losing a valuable year of eligibility.

The new rule doesn't solve every problem, of course. Should the competition last two games, for instance, managing the remaining two games for the backup would be paramount. An injury of any kind would create tremendous pressure to burn the redshirt, weighing the quarterback's future versus the needs of the team.

When former East Carolina quarterback Gardner Minshew flipped his commitment from Alabama to Washington State in the spring, it removed what would have been a valuable safety net in terms of depth at the position. While Mac Jones has shown improvement, he's still a redshirt freshman with no experience. The only other scholarship quarterback on the roster is Layne Hatcher, an unranked prospect previously committed to Arkansas State.

Heading into fall camp, the momentum to win the job is squarely with Tagovailoa. But Hurts hasn't been counted out yet. After Saban said at SEC media days that he had "no idea" whether Hurts would be part of the roster to start the season, Hurts met with him to say he wasn't leaving and that his plan, regardless of his playing situation, would be to stay and graduate in December.

"I think Jalen will rise in this competition," said a former Alabama staffer, "and maybe it's given him even new life."

Another former Alabama staffer said that he thinks first-year offensive coordinator Mike Locksley could be good for Hurts and would actually call a game that's better suited for his skill set.

"The players know Tua is a better passer, but they also trust Jalen," the former staffer said. "It's a good problem to have, one a lot of coaches would love to have, and that's what has separated Alabama under Saban, his ability to create competition at every position and the players buying into that competition."

What will Saban do?

As for Saban, what he hoped would be a private matter has become far too public for comfort.

Nick Saban will wait before making a decision as to which QB will start. Rich von Biberstein/Icon Sportswire

Averion's comments caused a stir, of course, but the attention paid to Tagovailoa wasn't ideal, either. In May, Tagovailoa's hometown in Hawaii threw him what was billed as a four-hour "Hometown Hero Parade." And even though media rarely are granted contact with Crimson Tide players outside of practice, two local outlets made the trip and secured one-on-one interviews with Tagovailoa and his family during the week of celebration.

Prior to the start of camp, Saban attempted to stymie any more unwanted headlines.

"The one thing I've talked to both kids about is that they can't go into this ... with the attitude, 'If I don't win the job, then I'm going to transfer,'" Saban said. "If that's the case, then you're not totally committed to what you're supposed to do. You're ready to cut and run as a competitor before you ever start? That ain't good. Now, neither kid has said that, but you've got other people saying it."

Saban said he has relayed a similar message to the families of both players as well.

"The one thing I've talked to both kids about is that they can't go into this ... with the attitude, 'If I don't win the job, then I'm going to transfer.' If that's the case, then you're not totally committed to what you're supposed to do. You're ready to cut and run as a competitor before you ever start? That ain't good. Now, neither kid has said that, but you've got other people saying it."

Nick Saban

"You are ruining your son's ability to be the leader of the team when you make any kind of these statements because the other kids see it as self-promotion," he told the parents. "The guy who's going to be our quarterback is the guy who wins the team. It's the way it's always been. We're going to let it play out on the practice field."

But perhaps more intriguing than Saban's management of the narrative surrounding the competition is the internal predicament he faces as a coach. The position battle, arguably the most important of his career, isn't just a question of experience and talent. It's also a matter of style that could rewrite his M.O. as a head coach of more than 20 years.

Saban, who has won five national championships at Alabama and one at LSU, has long valued a quarterback with experience that he can trust to take care of the offense -- a "game manager," as he has often said. And in Hurts, there's no question he has just that. Hurts rarely turns the ball over, and his leadership has been evident from the moment he started as a true freshman.

The allure of Tagovailoa, on the other hand, is undeniable. He's perhaps the most talented thrower Saban has ever had. Despite his lack of experience, despite his sometimes reckless choices with the football, he has the potential to unlock the Alabama offense, incorporating more pass-catchers and opening up a downfield attack that's been missing.

"I told them both, 'The more that you can do in your performance, your leadership, how you affect other people, the relationships you have on the team and the confidence that you develop in other players in your ability to distribute the ball, because that's what the quarterback is -- the distribution center of the ball -- then that's the guy who's going to have the best opportunity to win the team," Saban said.

While some in and around the program have already pinned Tagovailoa as the favorite to win the job, Saban hasn't made up his mind. He has seen too many things go sideways during his career -- too many fluke injuries, too many momentum swings -- to predict the future.

Good article originally from ESPN

[itsjaybullme]

Christian Kirksey’s Workout-warrior Mentality Has Transformed Him Into a Top-tier NFL Linebacker

Nick Cammett/Diamond Images/Getty Images

For Cleveland Browns linebacker Christian Kirksey, 2017 may be the year he sheds the “Tiny Titan” label and gets recognized as a true NFL superstar. 

It was a glitch in the programming of the video game Madden ‘15 that transformed the Browns 6’2”, 230-lb third-round draft pick—who had, indeed, once been considered by draft scouting reports too physically undersized to ever be an impact linebacker—into a 15-inch, ankle-biting defender who became known as the “Tiny Titan”. It went viral—even finding its way to the late-night talk show circuit. “Everybody got a laugh,” Kirksey recalls. “I even made Conan O’Brien.”

But now it’s Kirksey chance to laugh—all the way to the bank. This July, following a career-best season in which he was third in the NFL in tackles (148) and led all NFL linebackers in defensive stops (63), the former Iowa Hawkeye inked a four-year, $38 million contract with the Browns, with $20 million guaranteed.

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Aside from solidifying Kirksey’s status as one of the rising stars of the league, the contract, put together by Sportstars agents Brian Mackler and Jon Perzley, sets in stone the desire of the struggling Browns—who haven’t had a winning season since 2007, and won just four games in the past two years—to make him the cornerstone of their efforts to become something other than the laughing stock of the league.

It’s a responsibility that Kirskey, now the NFL’s fourth-highest-paid inside linebacker (behind All-Pros Luke Kuechly, Bobby Wagner, and NaVorro Bowman), doesn’t take lightly.

“For me, getting that contract just made me want to grind more, man,” he says. “I don’t look at it as, ‘Oh, I’ve made it. This is a stopping point.’ No. Now that they gave me this reward and this opportunity to play for Cleveland for a long time, I gotta make it happen. I want them to know they paid the right guy.” 

[RELATED2]

Of course, Kirksey won’t be out there fighting alone on the field when the team hosts the Pittsburgh Steelers on September 10 to open the season. He’ll be flanked by fellow inside linebacker Jamie Collins and a talented crop of rookies led by No.1 overall pick Myles Garrett and first-rounder Jabrill Peppers. The team even has a new defensive coordinator, Gregg Williams, bringing a new aggressive energy to this defense that should vastly improve from its next-to-last ranking from a year ago. Translation: The Browns D is going to be solid.

“We’re building a bond, a brotherhood,” Kirksey says. “We’re trying to create something special. With the rookies coming in, we have a lot of talent in the room. And Gregg is our leader—with the tone and culture he’s setting, guys are ready to go out there and ball out. I’m excited.”

To that end, this past summer he underwent a vigorous off-season training program designed to elevate his game to an even higher level—a punishing six-day-a-week MMA-style regimen put together by trainer Rich Power at San Diego’s Victory MMA gym. Kirksey’s willingness to adapt to a new style of training and put in the work has paid off. “He doesn’t look at himself like he’s a $38 million guy,” says Power. "He looks at it like, 'Man, somebody just invested a lot of money into me. I need to make this work and I need to be better than I was before.' Guys like that are dangerous.”

Andrew Weber / Stringer / Getty Images 

The mindset behind Power’s bodyweight-centric routine goal was to leave Kirksey gasping in the gym to leave him fresh and agile on the field. “An average football play lasts about 19 seconds,” Power says. “As fighters, we’re stuck in the ring from three to five minutes. So that’s how we train our football players—keeping their energy levels at around 80% in the fourth quarter while everyone else is teetering off.”

It’s the third summer Power and Kirksey have teamed up. The linebacker admitted to having to adjust to a learning curve on the mats which featured creative moves like plate planks—a punishing twist on the traditional plank in which your hands are holding onto a 45-lb plate on its end. Power’s killer conditioning program was a far cry from the bench presses and squats he was accustomed to. But for Kirksey, he equates the change in routine to learning Williams’ playbook.

[RELATED3]

“I wasn’t used to being on the mat along with all the things that come with MMA,” Kirksey says. "I was a little bit behind, but as a competitor, you don’t want to be getting beat in training, so it was a little frustrating. But it takes repetition until you get into that groove.”

It wasn’t long before Kirksey began dominating on the mat, which not coincidentally, carried over to last year’s breakout season. Yet as impressed as Power is with Kirksey in the gym, it pales in comparison with how he rates him out in the real world.

“Christian is an even better man than he is a football player—which is scary to say, because he’s one bad player on the field,” he says.

For example, Powers cites an incident in 2016, when he was hosting a charity prom for kids with cancer, and a celebrity backed out at the last moment. “I said, Christian, you need to get your ass down here right now,” he says with a laugh. “Not only did he fly in, but he brought his mother and his aunt, too.” 

And Kirksey didn’t just stop after an hour’s worth of hand-shaking and picture-taking, Power says. “I told him, ‘Look, man, your job is done, you can leave.' But he stayed all night long, dancing with all the kids, having a great time. It was just so cool.”

[RELATED4]

It’s staying humble and approachable that’s helped earn Kirksey—who grew up in St. Louis and spent his youth discovering his fashion style through thrift stores, and teaching himself drums so he could play at his family’s church—a reputation as one of the league’s true gentlemen, though you probably won’t hear that from him. Kirksey is active in the Cleveland and St. Louis communities, recently hosting a football camp in his hometown.

“Nobody wants to hang around a guy who just talks about himself,” Kirksey says. “I’m the same guy from when I got drafted to now. I’m just a person with a good job.”

His good-guy image off the field carries over into the locker room, where Kirksey is also excited about the opportunity to share the knowledge he’s gained as a league veteran with his new, less-seasoned teammates. “You try to put yourself in a rookie’s shoes when you see him not knowing too much,” he says. “You remind yourself that you were once that guy, and try to help out as much as possible. Now, going into year four, I feel comfortable being in that leadership role."

from Bodybuilding Feed http://www.muscleandfitness.com/athletes-celebrities/interviews/christian-kirksey-s-workout-warrior-mentality-has-transformed-him via http://www.rssmix.com/