#Bawson snippets

[megaphonemonday]

For the words thingy:

Burn,hot, read, green and catch

I’m not really playing this game at the moment, but this was a good excuse to go through and clean up the random bits of fic floating around my computer and phone and get them into one place, so I checked anyway. There were multiple hits on all of these, so here are my favorites for each!

“No,” she confirmed, standing tall and letting her annoyance—with him, with the umps, with her helplessness on the bench—burn into something sharper, more dangerous.

Still, she shook her head. “I’ll have to take a raincheck.” “Why, hot date?” “Actually…”

Mike halted midstep, his foot coming back to the ground just a second out of rhythm. Slowly, giving Ginny more than enough time to read his body language, take in the tense line of his shoulders and the straining tendons in his forearms, he turned back to her.

“Just because a little green puppet said it first—“ Mike hooted with laughter, but not loud enough to drown out his friend. “—doesn’t make it any less true now. This isn’t a joke. Ginny? She’s not a joke.”

When he released her, Ginny had to pant a bit to fully catch her breath. Livan smirked, pride lighting up his face, and she rolled her eyes. Together, they turned to look at Mike.

[4-now-incognito]

What would you like to see in the “Walk a Mile (With You Beside Me)” epilogue?

I want to start writing it this weekend... But I can’t decide where I want to end the story. (Honestly, I look at my fic as one possible vision they could have taken Bawson (but totally wouldn’t because they wouldn’t put them together so soon.)

So... where would you like to see them in a short snippet of their lives/careers/relationship??

Their final game of the season (without the rings).

After winning the World Series.

Something intimate after the season is over..

Going public with their relationship (either during the season or afterwards).

Something else...

Anything in particular you’d like? Seriously, this may help me out...

Thanks!!

[magicinhermadness]

Snippet from my upcoming high school!Bawson fic

Evelyn smirked. "You're just jealous you don't have anyone to Eskimo kiss." "Isn't it a terrible shame the only tongue that's frequently in my mouth is my own? How ever will I survive?" Ginny sneered as they began to walk toward the girls' math class. Mike and Ginny exchanged a look when Blip and Evelyn began to kiss goodbye. "They're single-handedly keeping the chapstick industry alive." Mike shook his head, nudged Blip. "Let's go, Sanders." The couple reluctantly parted, exchanging saccharine "I'll miss you's" as if they wouldn't see each other in an hour. Mike smiled at Ginny, grabbed her around her waist. "I don't know how I'm gonna make it a whole fifty minutes without you. What if you smell different at lunch or something?" "Don't make me think about it. Just promise you won't forget what I look like," Ginny cried then collapsed against him in a fit of giggles. "Never," he laughed. "Single people are so funny," Evelyn told Blip. "I think you mean lonely," he replied with a smile. Evelyn went into the classroom and Blip started down the hall. Mike grinned at Ginny, tightened his hold on her waist. "Wanna kiss me before I go?" Ginny laughed. "I'm never wearing a dress around you again. It's made you crazy." "You wish," he replied with a laugh. "Tell you what, if you'll shave, I'll French you just once for old time's sake." "You hate the beard because you don't it's magic." The bell rang, signaling the start of class. "I know it's made us both late." "Then kiss me so I'll leave." Ginny squinted at him until the teacher cleared her throat. She rolled her eyes. "Since you're begging..." She took his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his lips, not expecting the jolt that went through her and made her quickly release him, her face red. Mike grinned as he let her go. "Your whole life's different, isn't it?" Ginny sneered. "Yeah. I've probably got something worse than mono now." "Joining us today, Ms. Baker?" the teacher asked. Ginny blushed and hurried to her seat. "Sorry." The teacher nodded then turned to Mike. "Mr. Lawson, I'm always terribly sad to see you leave, but I believe you're needed elsewhere." "See you at lunch, Baker," Mike called then turned to the teacher and grinned. "Always a pleasure, ma'am." "I'm sure," she replied as she walked over and shut the door.

[shante-allday]

Chapters: 9/10 Fandom: Pitch (TV 2016) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Ginny Baker/Mike Lawson Characters: Ginny Baker, Mike Lawson, Evelyn Sanders, Blip Sanders, Trevor Davis, Amelia Slater, Sonny Evers, Al Luongo, Salvamini (Pitch), Eliot (Pitch), Tommy Miller, Voorhies (Pitch) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts Series: Part 17 of Woman of color fics Summary:

A group of Bawson AUs

A little snippet:

He was close, too close. Ginny tried to remain calm, but the fact of the matter was, she could get fired for this. He was her boss. As the teacher made them demonstrate the steps the rest of the class had to mimic, she tried to ignore the way his hand, no his entire body seemed to radiate heat. His beard brushed against her face and she swallowed.

"Excellent." The teacher said, turning to the rest of the class. "Now do exactly that."

"You can let go of me, Ms. Baker." Mike mumbled. Ginny dropped his hand and pulled her other off his shoulder, pulling back.

"I can let go?" She shot back. "That's rich coming from the man who practically groped me."

"My hand slipped." Mike murmured. "And it was because you fumbled one of the steps."

[megaphonemonday]

Angst dialogue prompt: "Seeing you with him/her, it kills me."

dim down the lights

Early into the evening, Mike had realized that the best place for him was at the bar, his back to the rest of the room. Well, the best place probably would have been at home, stewing in his own irritation, but that wasn’t an option. Not when Blip and Sonny had clapped him on the shoulder and cheerfully informed him that he was bankrolling tonight’s festivities. 

He could’ve sent his card along with one of them and wished them all well, but he was pretty sure they would’ve ended up charging more than just drinks and apps; that was how Butch funded for a stripper’s first semester of dental school three years ago. 

So, he’d come along and parked himself right at the bar. He’d come out, he’d pay for the whole place’s drinks if that was what it took, but he wasn’t going to mingle or chat or turn around and watch over his team. Or their guests.

He clenched his jaw and signaled for another double bourbon. Neat. 

He’d need it. 

Right on cue, Ginny’s bright laugh floated over the lower thrum of the crowd. Mike’s shoulders just hunched toward his ears. He was all too aware that he hadn’t made Ginny laugh like that in weeks, if not months. 

He was also all too aware of who was responsible. 

And that guy could definitely afford his own drinks. 

Mike hadn’t yet learned to like Noah Casey, remembered sharing an elevator with him one fateful morning last season and hadn’t quite gotten around to not blaming the guy at least a little bit for Ginny’s injury. The fact that he was still dating Ginny, all these months later, had nothing to do with it. 

(The lie went down smoother than the bourbon.)

The fact that Noah Casey was so… present maybe did. It was like everywhere Mike turned, there were Ginny and her boyfriend, his hands usually all over her and her grins telling the world she didn’t mind. 

Tonight was no different, not that he’d expected it to be. Which was why he’d removed himself, and his itching desire to slug that smug smirk off Casey’s face when his hands strayed under the edge of Ginny’s shirt again, from the equation. See, this barstool didn’t just have his name on it, it had “Self-Preservation,” too. 

If only Ginny bothered to look for the sign. 

“Lawson!” she crowed, her arm slinging around his shoulders familiarly—in fact, she’d done the exact same when they clinched her fourth straight win this evening—and fuck. That shouldn’t be enough to make Mike ache and light up and sit straight all at once. “Is this where you’ve been? You’re missing out on the party!”

He snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye at her, taking in the victorious flush on her cheeks and the wild cloud of her curls. Before he could let himself fall into staring, he just shook his head. “I’m good here.”

“What?” Ginny laughed, drawing away to look at him. Her exuberance ebbed as she took in his elbows on the bartop and the damp coasters before him. “No, you’re not.”

“Think I am,” he replied, studiously avoiding her eyes.

“Mike, c’mon. Noah’s going to—”

He didn’t mean to, but he snorted. 

“What’s that for?” she demanded, pulling away, which was probably for the best. Mike’s fists clenched anyway. “You don’t even know him. Every time he’s around, you just…”

He took a slug from his glass and didn’t fill in where Ginny trailed off. He didn’t have to look at her to know what dots she’d just connected. But she didn’t leave him at the bar to wallow all alone, the way he half-expected. She wouldn’t say anything, either, leaving a charged, awkward quiet to hang in the air. 

Finally, Mike sighed. Eyes trained on the shelves of booze behind the bar, only catching glimpses of Ginny’s reflection in the bottles, he threw caution to the wind. “If that guy is who you want, then fine, Baker. I won’t try to convince you otherwise. But don’t make me pretend that it doesn’t kill me to see you with him, okay?”

He could just make out the dark fall of her eyelashes in the curve of some Cuervo before Ginny’s heat at his side disappeared. Hoping to wash away the bitter disappointment on his tongue, he lifted his glass for another sip. Only to find it empty. With a sigh, Mike signaled for another drink.

[megaphonemonday]

@ladyinredfics: “What were you thinking?” “If I’m honest, I’m not sure I was.”

how can i face you now? 

Ginny woke with a grin on her lips and the sweetest ache between her thighs. She rolled over in bed, breathing in the faint smell of cologne and the stronger smell of sweat and sex, and let her bare limbs stretch out to the corners of the mattress. 

When neither her hands nor feet met another body, just the residual warmth he’d left behind, a frown began to eat away at her good mood. She’d never expected to wake up for her first morning after a night with Mike Lawson without, well. Mike.

She lifted her head, wondering where he’d gone. Before she could reach for her phone and send him some excellent motivation to come back, and fast, there was the telltale beep of the card reader on her hotel room’s door. Back to grinning in satisfaction—and in anticipation of all the satisfaction still to come—Ginny flopped back against the pillows. She and Mike always had been on the same wavelength. 

The latch clicked and the door swung in, but just an inch. 

It stopped at Blip’s low, suspicious demand. “That’s Ginny’s room, isn’t it.”

“Uh—”

Ginny could just imagine the way Mike had frozen, eyes wide, caught and unsure what to do about it. She only grinned harder, even when Blip’s suspicion turned to angry comprehension. He’d get over it once he saw how happy Ginny was.

“Man, what the hell were you thinking?”

Still wrapped up in her contentment, Ginny had to strain to hear Mike’s reply, and once she made out his words, she wished she hadn’t. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure I was.”

She blinked. Warmth began to leech away from her chest. 

“You better start,” Blip warned. “Then, once you get your head out of your dick, you’ll realize you need to stop. Ginny’s not someone you can just mess around with. If this gets out, it’s not your ass that’s gonna be in the fire.”

Ginny held her breath, waiting, hoping, for Mike to deny it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike returned tightly. That sour note in his voice was all too familiar. She’d heard it come out every time a trainer told him to lay off the high-impact stuff or Al told him to rest up. Knew it was more from a dislike of being told what to do rather than any real desire to do otherwise. Dread coiled through her veins and solidified into something far worse when he finished, “Don’t worry. It’s not happening again.”

Blip’s grumble was drowned out by the roaring in Ginny’s ears. Even wrapped up in the duvet, she was entirely cold, all the sweetness that she’d woken up with turned to heavy lead in the pit of her stomach. She curled in tight around the knot, trying to shove it all down deep where she couldn’t feel it anymore. 

By the time the door swung all the way open to admit Mike, holding two plates from the hotel’s breakfast buffet, Ginny had mostly succeeded. There was still a dull ache stuck fast against her ribs, but when Mike sat on the edge of the bed and gently nudged her, she was able to pretend he’d just woken her up and she hadn’t heard anything at all. 

[megaphonemonday]

"I never stopped loving you." Maybe at a future wedding??

been away for so long

Mike didn’t RSVP and come to the wedding just to see Ginny—he’d been to Stubbs’ last wedding and remembered the cake fondly—but it was at the top of his list. A year out from retirement, a year he’d spent getting his head on straight, and he was ready. Ready for a real life outside of the game. Ready for what was next. 

Ready for Ginny. 

And now that he’d seen her, wearing something yellow and floaty and perfect, he wasn’t willing to wait much longer. 

He’d gotten through the ceremony and cocktail hour and even sat through the entire dinner, but that was the extent of his patience. So, when she got up from her seat two tables away and headed for the doors to the patio, Mike followed after. 

Outlined by the setting sun, Ginny glowed. All Mike could do was stare, even when she sensed him and turned to look back. With the light behind her, he couldn’t quite make out her expression, so he approached, stopping close enough to catch the scent of her perfume and her gauzy dress to billow against his legs. 

She looked down and fixed her skirt. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I’ve been to all of Stubbs’ weddings.”

A grin stole across her full, pink lips as she peeked up at him. But the teasing he expected—”Doesn’t that make you bad luck, then?”—never came. Ginny just straightened and turned back to lean against the railing and stare out over the golden water. “Well, it’s nice you could make it.”

Mike grinned back, wanting her to look at him again. She didn’t oblige. Still, he joined her at the rail, angling to keep drinking her in. 

“I never stopped loving you.” 

He didn’t mean to say it, not so baldly and not so abruptly, but once the words were out, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He’d bit back that confession for two seasons and the past year; he was done keeping them inside.

Finally, Ginny turned, lifting wide eyes and a wrinkle between her brows to him. On bated breath, he awaited her response.

“When did you even start?”

All the oxygen rushed out of him. “C’mon, Gin,” he rasped, practically begging, needing to believe he hadn’t been wrong about this. “You know.”

“I don’t!” she insisted, backing away when he reached for her and twisting her fingers into the fabric of her skirt. Mike let his hand drop, too busy breathing through the punch to the gut. “Three years, and you never once said what you actually feel about me!”

“Because you said we weren’t talking about it!”

“While you were a ballplayer! My teammate. My captain. Of course we couldn’t talk about it!"

“So I didn’t!” Mike could hear his voice rising, and tried to swallow it back, but the anger was still there.

So was Ginny’s if the hard set of her jaw was any clue. “And then you kept on not saying anything this whole year. Can you really blame me for thinking I’d imagined it all?”

She tried to hold it back, but her voice broke, and then nothing else mattered. All Mike wanted was to take Ginny in his arms and assure her that she hadn’t. He loved her and wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. 

But when he reached for her, she pulled back again, shaking her head. 

“Gin, I’m sorry,” he tried. “I’m an idiot. I never should’ve—”

“I’m seeing someone.”

Those three words hung heavily in the darkening air. Mike’s brain refused to process them for a long moment, but in the face of Ginny’s flat, stony expression, his denial withered and faded. 

“You are?”

Something in Ginny’s demeanor fell at the break in his own voice, but she didn’t it, and she wasn’t lying. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Mike swallowed down the shattered pieces of his heart, hoping they’d fall back into his chest in roughly the right order. “Uh, great. That’s great.”

“Mike—”

He shook his head and backed away. “It’s great,” he repeated. “I just want you to be happy, Gin.” 

This far away, he couldn’t tell if it was doubt or acceptance in her eyes, but it hardly mattered. The image of Ginny Baker, the sun dying in the Pacific Ocean behind her, would be etched into his memory forever. Somehow, he doubted that it would ever hurt less than this. 

[megaphonemonday]

Angst dialogue prompt: "You weren't there when I needed you the most."

sometimes it lasts, sometimes it hurts

Much as she’d wished and hoped for it in the past few months, Ginny finds that she can’t appreciate the prickle at the back of her neck. That tingle of awareness rises, yawning, from its long sleep and tugs at her insides but there’s no relief in it. Only knots and resentment. Once, that little shiver of anticipation would have her gearing up for another go-around on the merits of the DH or the best soda flavor or whether she should throw her fastball more often.

Now, she keeps her eyes trained on the wall, counting out silent reps in her head and ignoring the familiar footsteps behind her. 

“You’re in earlier than usual,” an even more familiar voice observes, and it takes all of Ginny’s willpower not to bite out that it’s not as if he knows what’s usual for her anymore.

She clenches her jaw and finishes out the set. If she reracks her dumbbells with a little too much force and her gait out of the weight room is closer to a stalk than anything else, Ginny’s not going to think too hard about it. Still, she halts in her tracks when her silence apparently hasn’t spoken loud enough.

“Calling it quits? Pretty sure that’s not the way rehab’s supposed to work.”

Finally, reluctantly, Ginny turns and lays eyes on a man she hasn’t seen much of since her injury shut her down and nothing of since the season ended. The sight of Mike Lawson looking svelte and cheerful shouldn’t punch a hole in her defenses, and she’d deny to her dying breath that it does. That doesn’t stop her from feeling like the floor’s dropped out from under feet, of course, but that’s her business. 

Her arms cross defensively over her stomach, and Mike tracks the movement, a wrinkle forming between his brows. Ginny ignores the gouge that furrow digs into her lungs and makes it hurt to even breathe and says, “It’s not.”

He grins, clearly thinking he can cajole her out of a bad mood, thinking that this is a mood at all, and not the product of four months of silence. Four months of Ginny’s sweat and pain and grinding effort as he ran off to LA and his ex-wife and everything that wasn’t Ginny. “So stick around. You can tell me my form’s off, and we’ll get you back in—”

“I got cleared to start throwing again two weeks ago.”

The statement hangs in the air for a moment, Mike clearly wrestling with the surprise. Ginny wants to feel satisfaction at his discomfort, but all she’s got is empty exhaustion.

“No kidding,” he says, narrowing his eyes like he’s trying to figure out how he’s ended up in the middle of this minefield. “Congrats. I didn’t know.”

Ginny snorts.

It’s Mike’s turn to frown. “I didn’t,” he insists.

“Of course you didn’t,” she says, striving to keep the bitterness out of her voice and not at all sure she succeeds. “You weren’t here to know.”

“Ginny—”

For the first time, she flinches. She flinches away from the look in his eyes and the hand he reaches out for her and her name wrapped around his tongue and the bright bloom of shame that threatens to swallow her whole. Because in spite of it all, she still wants him to see her more clearly than anyone, still wants to take his hand, still wants him to say her name like it’s something delicate and precious, still wants him.

She shakes her head in denial, stepping back. “It’s fine,” she says, hoping that someday soon she’ll actually mean it. “You weren’t here when I needed you to be, but it’s fine, Lawson. I got by, and you don’t have to look out for me anymore.”

If he’s got anything to say to that, Ginny doesn’t hear it. She spins on her heel and walks away, hating that it’s so much harder for her than it had ever been for him.

[megaphonemonday]

Bawson and a horribly timed accidental pregnancy

shouldn’t have hoped

“Gin, are you serious?”

There’s a part of her that wants to seethe and spit, “Of course not! This is exactly my kind of prank. Forget the classics—saran wrap over the toilet bowl or short sheeting your bed! No, I go straight for telling the man I’ve slept with exactly once that I’m pregnant with his child. Hilarious, right?”

Another part snags on that soft “Gin.” How she’s only heard him say it when he was moving inside her, his lips murmuring her name so sweetly, so reverently even as she gasped for breath under the onslaught of the pleasure he was wringing out of her. 

Most of her, though—the parts that ultimately win out—just makes her nod silently.

“Fuck,” Mike breathes, raking a hand through his hair. 

She can’t disagree—this is the kind of fuck-up that could ruin them both—though there’s no comfort in being on the same page. Just like there’s no comfort in the way he grimly, no sign of the man who’d once covered her body with kisses and held her like he would never let her go, assures her they’ll figure a way out of this mess.

[megaphonemonday]

Idk how angsts you want but bawson death?

For once in his life, and at the worst time possible, Mike Lawson was at a loss for words. Elbows propped on his battered knees and head cradled in his hands, Mike strove to think of something, anything, he could say about the man who’d been more of a father to him than anyone else had ever bothered to be. Anything that wouldn’t make him break down in front of a church full of people, at least. 

He’d already done enough breaking down in the past week.  

Not enough writing, though. Leaving him here, sitting on the steps of Al’s church, only twenty minutes until his funeral began, with nothing to eulogize the man who’d taught him everything worth knowing and given him more.

There was no digging deep for this one, no grinding out another game, living to see the next. There was no living because Al was dead. He was gone. For good. And Mike wasn’t even man enough to come up with a few words to say as they put him in the ground. They shouldn’t have asked him. There had to be someone better—

“Lawson.”

Ginny’s voice, soft and gentle and still enough to splinter him to pieces, cut into the undertow of his grief, but he couldn’t bring himself to grab hold of it and escape drowning. He couldn’t even accept the comfort she offered, her spine of steel ready to hold them both up. Everything about him felt wrung out and fragile, ready to crack open at the slightest pressure.

Still, he lifted his head to look at her, the wrinkles she was working into her black skirt by crouching before him, the achingly open empathy in her eyes.

He couldn’t take it. 

He shot to his feet, trying to ignore the pang of regret when Ginny reared back, only barely hanging onto her balance. She stared up at him, confused and lost and why the hell did she think he could help with that? Mike just choked down the knot in his throat and shook his head. If he couldn’t come up with anything for Al, what chance did he have at giving Ginny anything worthwhile?

In spite of the dread pooling in his gut, he turned and trudged up the steps and his final opportunity to say goodbye to Al. 

It wasn’t even a relief when Ginny’s footsteps, after a moment’s hesitation, echoed along behind him.

[megaphonemonday]

Can you do an AU where Mike and Ginny have secretly been banging the whole time?

She tucks the ball in her glove and thumbs at her lip, clearly trying to think her way out of this at bat, just like Mike should be doing.

Unfortunately, his mind’s not on the crowd or the batter or even the game, though it’s definitely on the woman before him and the last time he saw her make that exact same movement: still kneeling between his spread thighs and wiping any stray trace of his come from the corner of her mouth.

He’d hauled her up into his arms and kissed her then, and the fact that he absolutely cannot do that now, even as he aches for her, is just one of many reasons Mike knows he’s absolutely, undeniably fucked.

[megaphonemonday]

Please write single parent au / bawson!!!

who’s the parent tho??? jk it’s both of them (kinda).

just try and survive

Back when she was first drafted by the Padres, barely eighteen and fresh out of high school, Ginny had figured that if she ever made it to the show, the most stressful part of the move would be navigating the expectations put upon her, not finding a good daycare. 

Yet, here she was, scrolling through Yelp reviews for San Diego childcare, bouncing her sniffling nephew on her hip. 

At two, Trey had a long way to go before he’d be too big to rock back to cheerfulness, but Ginny could already see the years flashing by, her on the road half the year and Trey with a long line of nannies and babysitters—Lord knew Will wasn’t going to come back any time soon—having changed every time she came home. She sighed and rubbed her cheek against the tight curls covering his head. His pudgy little fist curled into her uniform, his face burrowing sweetly into her neck. 

Ginny cast a furtive glance around, but the back hallway of the clubhouse where Eliot had gratefully unloaded the sobbing toddler on her was blissfully empty. Technically, the clubhouse was off limits to any non-Padres personnel in the hour before game time, but it wasn’t as if she was going to leave her nephew fussing in the family room just because the Front Office said so. 

Anyway, it wasn’t as if Ginny was the only Padre bending the rules. 

As if on cue, a bright, little voice chirped, “Hi, Ginny!” 

Whirling, cupping the back of Trey’s head protectively, Ginny came face to face with empty air. It wasn’t until she lowered her gaze to about belly button level that she found the source of the interruption. Standing in the middle of the hallway, her brown hair in two slightly uneven braids below her tiny San Diego cap, stood the unofficial clubhouse mascot: Juliet Lawson.

“Uh, hey, Jules,” Ginny replied, crouching down to the seven-year-old’s height while looking around for her father. She hadn’t been officially introduced to her captain’s kid yet—was trying not to read too much into that three weeks into her tenure as a Padre—but already knew that where Jules went, Mike usually wasn’t far behind. “What’s up?”

Jules came closer, but her frown was all for Trey. “Is he sad?”

Ginny tilted her head to inspect her little man. He was being unusually shy, he burrowing deeper into her shoulder and keeping one eye on the unfamiliar girl. Turning her attention back to Jules, she replied, “I think Trey was just a little scared. The family room was pretty noisy.”

The girl nodded sagely, and Ginny had to bite back a grin at the utterly serious look on her face. She nearly lost it when Jules replied, “It’s a jungle in there.”

Harnessing her giggles, Ginny bounced Trey. “Is it a jungle, bub?” she asked him, letting her voice go high and funny in a way she would never have imagined before her brother left his son in her care. Her fingers danced over his chubby thighs, making him squeal in delight. Jules lit up, too, her grin somehow making her look more like Mike than ever. 

Speaking of Mike—

“Juliet Lawson,” his voice echoed down the hall, announcing his presence before he even rounded the corner, “what’d I tell you about wandering around in here by yourself?”

“Not to do it,” Jules responded, unrepentant.

Mike rolled his eyes, though that couldn’t hide his curiosity as he looked over his daughter, his rookie, and the two-year-old who really wasn’t meant to be here. Still, he took this strange grouping in stride, fixing his kid with a stern look. “And what are you doing?”

“I’m not wandering by myself. I’m talking to Ginny and Trey.”

He shook his head, fondly exasperated. “I guess we won’t talk about how you found them, then.” Jules’s eyes immediately went wide and innocent. Of course, Mike didn’t buy it for a second. Still, he reached out and let his daughter’s tiny hand fill his, a soft smile stealing over his face. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get you and your new friend to the family room before the game starts.” 

Ginny straightened, watching Mike Lawson walk away from her holding another girl’s hand. 

At eighteen, such a sight would’ve (if only in the most secret parts of her mind) made her roil with jealousy. Now it just filled her with giddy warmth. 

(Naturally, that was still something she was going to keep good and secret.)

“You two coming, rook?”

“Yeah, old man,” she called back, not missing the way it made Jules giggle and her father no doubt roll his eyes. “We’re coming.”

[megaphonemonday]

Ginny and Mike are playing some kind of game (board game, connect four, whatevs) during a rain delay and Mike gets frustrated and petty because he's losing to her.

I feel like I should’ve leaned way harder into Mike’s pettiness, because, boy, do I love when he’s petty. 

oh, what a mess

Usually, it was pretty hard to block out the noise and bustle of a full clubhouse. It was even harder to ignore it when everyone was damp and had too much energy from a game cut off by sudden downpour; the smell alone was nearly overwhelming.

Yet the scent of sweat and wet bodies didn’t even register to Mike. 

He was too busy staring his opponent down over the well-worn checkers board. 

She grinned at him, too goddamn cocky for her own good. Both dimples had popped, and her eyes glittered. Mike forced his gaze back down to the game.  

“You sure you’re up for another round, old man?” Ginny challenged. “Can you take another loss?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, rookie,” he sneered, though there wasn’t much heat behind it. Just frustration. She’d already beat the snot out of him at backgammon and Speed this week. Mike had a good feeling about checkers, though. Maybe that was just bravado, though. After all, Ginny wasn’t allowed into team poker games anymore; after she’d won Melky’s Rolex and Dusty’s chain, Mike was the only one still willing to play her at anything.

Whether it was confidence or hubris, though, he couldn’t really say. 

Within about ten minutes, Mike could confidently say it was hubris. 

Ginny’s grin hadn’t faded, probably because from the very first move, she’d had the upper hand. Which wasn’t just par for the course for everything about Mike’s relationship with Ginny or anything…

He clenched his jaw and studied the board, intent on finding a move that wouldn’t result in three of his pieces getting jumped as Ginny bit back a gleeful cackle. On the field, she was the consummate competitor, cool and stoic. In the clubhouse, with Mike, the same could not be said. 

The girl loved her trash talk. 

“My arthritic grandma moves faster than you, Lawson,” she complained. Her arms were wrapped around the leg she’d drawn up to her chest, chin propped on her knee. The other leg swiveled her chair back and forth. She’d flipped her cap around, and Mike wouldn’t say it was a particularly distracting look, but only because pretty much everything about Ginny was distracting; individual things had stopped standing out.

“Your arthritic grandma can kiss my ass,” he replied, finger hovering over one of his dwindling pieces. From the way Ginny leaned eagerly forward, Mike was pretty sure he should leave that one where it was.

Or maybe that was just his slight to her grandmother. Her jaw dropped open, offering him a perfect view of her pale pink tongue. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“And I’m gonna tell her her granddaughter’s a sore winner.”

Before Ginny could mount another comeback, Al’s voice cut through the general hubbub of the clubhouse: “All right boys”—his gaze cut to Ginny, and he inclined his head—”and girl. The tarp’s coming up, so start getting loose again. We’re back on the field in ten.”

In a flash, Ginny bounded to her feet. She hadn’t started today, but she’d already complained about not getting a good look at the Phillies’ hitters. Mike wanted to tell her that the game wouldn’t restart any faster just because she wanted to do her own scouting. He was about to do just that, pushing himself to his feet and biting down on groan, when his protesting knee jostled the checkerboard and sent all the pieces flying.

They both stared down at the mess for a long moment before lifting their eyes back to one another. 

Ginny broke the fraught silence first. “You did that on purpose!” she accused, indignant. 

“Prove it,” Mike volleyed back. He was about 70% sure he hadn’t. At the very least, he hadn’t intended to when he started to get to his feet. But maybe, a flash of awareness had hit him as his joints ached, and he figured his knees could do him this one solid.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down, willing him to admit to something Mike had no intention of ever revealing. If he copped to this, who knew what would come out of his mouth next. 

“I was going to beat you. Again.”

“Maybe you were,” he allowed. The rest of their teammates had mostly gathered their gear and trooped back to the dugout, leaving the clubhouse nearly empty. Just him and Ginny. Mike swallowed and tried to ignore the bright sting of want that seemed determined to swamp him every time he found himself alone with her. “We’ll never know, now.”

Her lips pursed, and she fixed him with a determined glare. To punctuate it, she prodded his chest with one long finger, maybe letting it linger against him longer than strictly necessary. “You owe me a win.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree. As far as he was concerned, she could have all the wins she wanted. He might not like losing, but, God, did he like being part of a Ginny Baker win.

[megaphonemonday]

Bawson vacation sex, please. (I’m going with the happy day-drunk vibes you’ve got going)

Aw yiss. I can respect your priorities. Note: Smut behind the cut. (Is that funny or am I still a little drunk?)

as real as it gets

Ginny didn’t know what, exactly, she’d expected out of going on vacation with Mike Lawson, but it wasn’t this.

(If she was being honest, she would say that she’d expected not to leave the tiny bungalow they’d rented—and if they did, it would be just to see exactly how private the private beach it sat on was—for the week, reveling in their hard-earned privacy.)

Suffice it to say, she and Mike had certainly left the bungalow. They were still nice and alone, though.

She lifted her face and breathed in the fine mist of sea spray as the prow of the boat cut through vibrant tropical waters. The sun beat down on her shoulders and back, quickly drying the moisture from her skin. Turning back from the breathtaking view of light dancing on the empty waves, Ginny took in the equally compelling sight of Mike at the helm. 

His threadbare button up flapped in the breeze, showing off his broad, well-muscled chest. A pair of his customary Ray Bans perched on his nose, and she could already foresee teasing him about the tan lines they’d give him. Ginny watched him confidently adjust course, eagerly imprinting this moment into her memory.

“What’s on your mind, Baker?”  

Rather than feed his ego, she asked “When’d you learn how to sail?”

His head cocked to the side, like he knew that wasn’t the exact truth. Going by the smug grin that curved across his lips, he probably had a pretty good idea of what the truth really was. Still, he answered, “After I blew my first major league check on a boat.”

“You bought a boat?”

He shrugged. “I figured I wasn’t a very good rich guy if I didn’t have one.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose as she picked her way across the deck. Her bare feet found good purchase on the slick boards, but she was sure Mike was keeping a weather eye out for even a hint of a wobble. Rather than give him cause for concern, she gave him a show, letting her hips roll with the rocking of the boat. Keeping an innocent look on her face, she reached behind her to pull at the bow of her bikini top. 

“Don’t most rich guys have their own crew?” she purred, caring less about the conversation than the way Mike’s attention had left the horizon and trained solely, intently on her. Even behind the dark lenses of his glasses, Ginny was sure he was drinking in her every move. 

His throat bobbed as she let the strings drop to her sides, the top of her swimsuit only just covering her breasts, hanging from a delicate knot at the base of her neck. 

“Why let someone else do what I can?” he asked, pulling Ginny the last few feet right to his side. Deftly, he reached up and tugged on the strings, baring her from the waist up. 

Ginny hardly had time to hope that he hadn’t tossed her top overboard before his mouth descended on her chest, his greedy tongue circling a nipple. She gasped and arched into him, hands burying themselves into his hair to hold him in place. Not that Mike seemed all that inclined towards going anywhere. His hands skated down her sides before busying themselves with the bottoms of her suit, pushing them impatiently down her legs until they fell to the ground and she could step out of them, which she did just as soon as she’d pushed his shirt from his shoulders and delved her hand into the front of his swim trunks. 

Mike’s grip on her ass tightened as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, already thick and hard and hot for her. She hardly got two pumps in before he spun her around and lifted her onto the captain’s chair. The white leather stuck to her skin, but that hardly mattered when Mike was tracing his thumb over her wet folds, freeing his cock from his trunks with the other hand. Ginny’s head tipped back, and she had to close her eyes against the glare of the sun overhead, though it was nowhere near as bright as the fire Mike was building up inside her, drawing the head of dick up and down her already slick entrance. 

Ginny’s legs fell open even wider, an obvious invitation for more, but he resisted. 

He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against hers. His lips slid against her cheek, her jaw, finally her mouth, tongue sweeping inside and plundering everything Ginny willingly gave. But still, he didn’t press inside her.

“Mike,” she panted, muffled against his skin. Then, more clearly, “Captain.” 

His hips rocked forward, so she said it again: “Captain.”

He bit down on a groan, but didn’t fight his reaction this time. His cock sank into her, thick and perfect. Ginny’s arms wound around his neck, her legs doing the same to his waist, anything to keep him close. Of course, the close wasn’t the problem; it was the fact that once he’d bottomed out, Mike held himself still, apparently unwilling to let her win so easily.

Beneath her hands, every line of muscle and sinew had gone taut as a bowstring, practically vibrating with the effort of holding steady. Sure, his dick inside her had quenched a part of her thirst—the delicious stretch and heat was better than the teasing—but Ginny was nowhere close to being sated. If she could just get him moving, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was. 

His beard rubbed at her neck and chest, and it didn’t even cross her mind that beard burn was going to be a pain in the ass to cover up when they got home. All that mattered was this—Mike inside her, with her, loving her. 

And, apparently, really loving it when she called him “captain.”

Well, Ginny had no objections to that. 

“C’mon,” she murmured, giving his earlobe a quick nip before soothing the sting with her tongue. “Show me what you can do, cap.”

With a shudder and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a sigh of relief, Mike got to work doing just that. 

By the time they got back to their slip, the sun had gone down and they’d racked up quite the penalty for a late return. Of course, neither of them minded; the trip had been worth every penny.

[megaphonemonday]

62 and 70 for bawson!

love confessor + locked in a room

Should anyone be surprised by my character choice, I’m not sure what to tell you.

not in some dreamworld

How, exactly, Evelyn had come to be locked in the walk-in refrigerator of what was soon to be San Diego’s premier culinary destination with Mike Lawson of all people, she wasn’t quite sure. And yet, here she was, stuck in a walk-in refrigerator with Mike Lawson. 

At least they hadn’t turned the thing on yet. The thought alone was enough to make her shiver. 

Only a few feet away, Mike couldn’t help but notice. Immediately, he shrugged out of his beat-up leather jacket and held it out to her. 

“When did you turn into such a gentleman?” Ev teased as she put it on. The refrigerator may not be running, but it wasn’t anywhere close to warm, and Blip, their rescuer, was still fifteen minutes away. 

He grinned, but Evelyn didn’t miss the flicker of a grimace that passed over his face first. “Even an old dog can learn new tricks. Gotta do something to remind the women of San Diego that Livan’s not the only Padre on the market.”

“Are you?” she blurted before she could help herself. At the quizzical furrow of Mike’s brow, Evelyn clarified. “On the market, I mean.”

Mike frowned at her, rocking back like she’d hit him. “Why shouldn’t I be? The divorce’s been final for years now, Ev.”

She waved him off, impatient. Evelyn hadn’t realized she wanted to have this conversation when she first started it, but now that the opportunity had presented itself… “I didn’t mean Rachel.”

“Then who—”

“Ginny.”

Silence stretched between them, fraught and heavy. Mike’s mouth opened, but he closed it without saying anything. Evelyn just watched him, drinking in every detail and trying to complete a picture she had only scant knowledge of; Ginny could be awfully tight-lipped when she put her mind to it.

His jaw worked side to side for a long moment. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mike,” she said, putting every last ounce of no-nonsense she’d built up in her years as a mother. “You’re not good at it.”

“I’ve got plenty of people who’d disagree,” he returned, eyes narrowed. 

“I’m not one of them. And don’t change the subject.”

“I don’t even know what the subject is!” Mike exclaimed, more agitated than this kind of back and forth warranted. Evelyn was sure she’d hit a nerve. 

“The subject is your love life, Lawson. Don’t think people haven’t taken note of the fact that it’s been suspiciously quiet lately. Used to be I couldn’t turn around without hearing about another one of your dates, but that hasn’t been true in a long time, has it?”

His arms crossed defensively over his chest, unwilling to concede the point. “That doesn’t have anything to do with Ginny,” he tried, hardly even sounding like he believed it himself.

Evelyn leveled him with an unimpressed glare. “I thought I told you not to lie to me.”

A shadow of a smile played around his mouth, but he was rolling his eyes too. “Can’t get better if I don’t practice.”

“Practice on someone else. Now, give me the dirt,” she demanded.

“If,” he said, like a hypothetical was some huge concession, “you were right and there was some connection between the two, then maybe it would happen like this: Maybe I’d realize that just talking with Ginny is more satisfying than anything else with other women. Maybe I’d think that any time spent on a date could be time with her. Maybe I just wouldn’t see much point in going out with anyone I’m not in love with.” Mike looked her in the eyes even as he shrugged the suggestion off. “But that’s just maybe.”

Evelyn blinked. She opened her mouth. 

Before she could say anything, though, the door to the refrigerator swung open. Standing there, backlit by the brilliant afternoon sun was their savior. Except, it wasn’t Blip. 

Ginny stepped into the doorway, grinning like the cat who got the canary. “Do I even wanna know how you two got stuck in here?” she asked, directing a quick look to Evelyn before turning the full force of her teasing smile on Mike. He rolled his eyes. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he sighed, long-suffering. It caught Ginny’s attention, which he’d clearly meant to do since the real story wasn’t all that interesting. 

“Tell me,” Ginny said as Mike brushed by her, leaving his impromptu prison behind. She followed after, leaving Evelyn to bring up the rear. 

Which, to be fair, was exactly where she wanted to be. Now that Evelyn knew there was something to see, that this wasn’t just the product of wishful thinking the way Blip sometimes tried half-heartedly to convince her, she couldn’t stop noticing things. Like the way Mike kept sneaking glances when he thought Ginny wasn’t looking, or how Ginny walked close enough for their arms to brush with every step, leaving their hands so close to tangling together. 

Quickly enough, that picture Ev had been trying to fill in, going off scraps of gossip and Ginny’s reluctant confessions, took shape. Now that she had a good idea of what she was working with, the real work could begin. 

It was time to get these two together.

[megaphonemonday]

31+86+mike+ginny

birthday au + i didn’t mean to turn you on

I like this combo. I like any combo that includes unintentional arousal, though. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

don’t need a hint

Ginny was fully aware that this was neither the time nor the place. She shouldn’t be burning up with lust at a party thrown specifically for her. 

Nonetheless, here Ginny was, desire and need twisting up inside her, threatening to set her aflame if she didn’t do something but absolutely unable to do anything about it. After all, the guest of honor couldn’t just disappear, dragging the host along with her for a private “thank you,” without raising a few eyebrows. And she and Mike had gotten so far without raising any eyebrows at all. It’d be a shame to ruin their record at the surprise birthday party he’d thrown for her. 

She had been surprised. And then surprised all over again when she realized he’d managed to keep the secret. 

Ginny’d walked into Mike’s house, expecting to pick up the book he’d borrowed a week ago and then find an excuse not to leave, only to be greeted by a wall of sound and what seemed like every person she’d ever known. Mike was smack dab in the middle of it all, grinning with well-earned pride. 

Once the chorus of, “Surprise!” died away, he was at her side, murmuring a much quieter, “Happy birthday, rook,” in her ear. 

That had been the start of it. 

But the flutter of Ginny’s heart at his warm words and warmer body only grew into a bona fide stampede as the night wore on. Everywhere she turned, Ginny was confronted with the evidence of Mike’s careful planning, his attention to detail. To her details, specifically. 

He’d stocked the bar with not only her favorite beer but the fancy grape soda she only got for special occasions. He’d gotten the catering company to make all her favorites: jalapeño burger sliders and onion rings and tiny key lime pies and what seemed like a million other things. He’d gotten a bouncy castle, even though he’d teased her mercilessly when she admitted to still being sad she’d never had a birthday party with one.

Mike knew her. Maybe better than anyone had before.

And that was really fucking hot.

And Ginny wasn’t going to get through the night without doing something about it, whether or not she should. 

“You having fun?” he asked when she managed to corner him in the pantry, the sounds of the party muffled by the closed door. 

Ginny simply nodded, her eyes darting from his lips to his jaw to his hands, raking over every detail she could see. 

Mike just grinned. “Speechless, huh? Well, just wait until—”

She cut him off with a kiss, her tongue sliding against his eagerly, taking advantage of his surprise. It didn’t last long, though, his hands tangling in her hair, the hem of her shirt, dragging her close until Ginny could feel his interest stir against her stomach. Her hands dove for his waistband, but he pulled away, making her whine in annoyance. 

“Ginny,” Mike managed, clearly dazed. “What— Why—?”

“You threw me the perfect party, Lawson,” she said, contenting herself with worrying her teeth into the tendon straining in his neck since she couldn’t have his mouth. “What else did you expect?”

“Not this!” he protested, though he had yet to let go of her hip, and that interest hadn’t subsided.

She bit down the uncertainty that bloomed to life. Just because he hadn’t expected this didn’t mean he didn’t want it. Didn��t want her. She hoped so, at least. “Then we were both surprised tonight. Only seems fair.” 

His chuckle, buzzing against her mouth as he lowered his face to hers once more, was all the agreement she needed.