… don’t look at me. I’m not giving you a number. You can count on your own. Anyway, excellent (and embarrassing, thanks) guess. I’m hiding most of these under a cut because otherwise it would take up your entire dash.
And on this excessive note, I’m gonna call a wrap on this game, kids.
draft: the party will comeGinny arches an eyebrow back. Well, she tries. Both of them climb up her forehead, but she squints out of one eye at him, like that’ll make up the difference. It’s what tells Mike she’s trying. And that she’s had more to drink than usual, her typically superfine control slipping just a bit. It takes a lot of effort not to laugh—fondly! God, is he fond—in her face, but Mike manages it.
draft: untitled play review ficMike groaned and tried to stretch as discreetly as possible, twisting to the side to relieve some the pressure from his back.
Apparently, though, he wasn’t quite discreet enough.
draft: where the loyalty liesBack in the sixth grade, he broke his nose when some smart aleck at recess decided Mike’s ratty clothes and spacey mom made him an excellent target. Mike ended up teaching that little asshole a pretty solid lesson, but not before earning himself a painful trip to the school nurse who reset his nose without any sympathy.
+ way too many (and some smut) under here
draft: untitled batting coach!Mike fic“Believe me, Baker,” Mike murmured, right in her ear and not doing anything to convince Ginny, “if I put the moves on you, you won’t need to ask. You’ll know.”
Ginny froze at that, bat still hovering over her back shoulder. Almost breathless, she murmured, “Yeah?”
draft: my worst enemy“Mike,” she pleaded, pressing her forehead into his shoulder, “I need to sleep. We need to sleep.” She sounded so exhausted, so close to defeat, that he immediately caved.
“I know,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles up and down her back.
draft: gotta do what you’ve gotta do“Nothing in kindergarten’s that random anymore,” muttered Salvi. He would know. He’d had at least one kid in kindergarten for the past four years. None of ‘em had been held back, either. There were just that many in the Salvamini brood.
draft: the fire went wildAnother perfect screwball landed squarely in Mike’s mitt. He couldn’t help but be impressed, popping the ball out of the webbing and snatching it from the air.
“Good,” he called, throwing it back to Baker. “Now show me the fastball I actually asked for.”
draft: places that you could never reach“Big day tomorrow,” Blip observed, trying not to fidget too much with the bottle in front of him. He never quite knew what would scare the man sitting next to him off.
For his part, Mike took a long pull off his own beer, arm slung over the back of his barstool, before replying. “Is it? Just another game against the Dodgers.”
draft: have I been away so long?“What’s gotten into you, Baker?”
“Nothing,” she muttered, in spite of the way she buried her nose in his collar bone, fingers tight in the back of his shirt.
draft: untitled Mike & Evelyn bonding ficMike had no such reservations. His arms crossed and he frowned around the suite. Still, there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eye when he muttered back, “C’mon, Ev. It’s not the ‘anyone’ that annoys you. It’s the ‘you.’”
draft: no me vayas a dichabarIt was a miracle the bottle in Lawson’s hand didn’t shatter. The peanut gallery had to be losing their minds by now. Good. They were no better than his abuela and her friends, gossiping about all their friends and one another whenever one had their back turned.
draft: untitled fic about hickeys because why the hell not?Ginny stared mournfully at the beautiful dress she’d chosen weeks ago, which now would have to go back to the designer. Not because of the pristine white fabric, which she’d originally worried would make her look more like she was walking down the aisle rather than the red carpet, though.
draft: untitled bed sharing ficAfter playing nearly eight innings in the Arizona heat—the retractable roof of Chase Field on the fritz because of course it was—she was rank. It didn’t help that the Diamondbacks still didn’t have a separate bathroom facility for her. She’d had to stew in her own sweat and funk on the bus ride back to the hotel, even Blip refusing to sit next to her.
draft: mirror, mirror“So,” she asked, coming back to stand at the foot of the bed, eyebrow and hip cocked, “what brought that on?”
Mike shrugged, leaning back against the pillows and drinking in the sight before him.
draft: untitled fic #… God only knows “You ever think about settling down again?”
Mike looks at her sidelong, but Ginny keeps her face firmly forward. It’s probably a good thing. If she were looking back at him, he might do something stupid. Like tell her the truth.
draft: Bliplyn fix it“Ev—”
“No. I don’t want to hear it. We can still be in this fight in the morning, but I just got back from visiting my best friend in the hospital, and I want to fall asleep holding my husband. Are you really going to tell me I can’t?”
draft: untitled h/c ficMike nodded, deeply skeptical, but willing as always to back her play. “Okay. What do you need?”
She swallowed, darting a quick look up at him before fixing her gaze on the door again. “Will you stay?”
draft: freebiesThe fact of the matter was this: Mike Lawson had always been on her list. Ever since Evelyn first goaded her into building one back in San Antonio, he’d been pretty much at the top of it. Other people had drifted on and off, but Lawson, captain of the San Diego Padres, was a mainstay. It wasn’t that he was hot—okay, it wasn’t just that he was hot. It had far more to do with the way he played ball.
draft: untitled angst ficGinny just sighs and Mike’s never heard a more disappointed sound in his life.
“I did,” she replies, turning back to the bay.
draft: anything you can do“I’ll have you know I’m a Grade-A stud, Baker.”
“Maybe back in the day,” she snorted, flopping onto the mattress and sighing in contentment. Was this what getting old was? Being tired from a couple hours out with the guys?
draft: untitled Ginny/Mike/Livan ficGinny couldn’t quite bring herself to care, though. Not when she had one hand on Mike’s bearded jaw, the other buried in the short hair at the back of his head, and her mouth moving furiously against his. His own hands were settled low on her hips, edging the clinging waistband of her leggings down from her waist. The second his fingers came into contact with her bare skin, she groaned, plastering herself against his chest, wishing she had that feeling everywhere.
here be the smut. stop reading if that’s not your thing?
draft: men of actionBecause it was one thing to dream about fucking your teammate into the mattress as her nails dug into your back and she practically screamed your name. It was another to dream of laying out in the grass, your head cushioned on her lap as her fingers rubbed soothing patterns on your scalp.
Billy Graham – It’s sometimes comical to hear the younger ge… It's sometimes comical to hear the younger generation ask their peers to repeat themselves. Billy Graham
