missed writing, this is for me

Gally

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Photopsias - Gally x Reader [Angst]

Couverture - Gally x Reader [Fluff/Mentions of smut]

Vitals - Gally x Reader [ft. Frypan - Fluff/Angst]

Independent Studies - Gally x Reader [Fluff]

Choke - Gally x Reader [Angst/Lite smut]

Far as Forever - Gally x Reader [Smut]

Far as Forever: Part 2 - Gally x Reader

Jettison Level - Gally x Reader

Cactus in the Valley - Part 1 - Gally x Reader

Billy Cutler

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Jejune - Billy Cutler x Reader

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Warfare

Hot Wire - Elliot *Smut (If anyone is going to fix something in his house, it's him.)

Gravitational - Elliot (He is looking for a second chance after messing up the first one)

Bewitched - Elliot (He is plenty romantic, thank you very much!)

Something Blue - Erik (It's been 2 years since you and Erik have been in the same room)

Fête Champêtre - Erik *Smut (His efforts toward planning a nice date do not go unnoticed)

Three Sleeps - Erik (No one is handling the first night of separation well)

Speeding Cars - Zawi (ft. Erik) - He has always wanted to be a Dad, but this is not the ideal moment.

Dog Day - Tommy *Smut (Tommy is a heat-seeker.)

The Breakfast Foods Collection:

Hand History (Lite Smut) - Ray and you alone in the same spare room again?

Zizz - One of my Mac's greatest gifts is he can fall asleep anywhere.

Cereal Milk - Zawi

McHappy - Sam

Baby Apple - Mac

Blueberry Danish - Tommy

The Bastards Baseball Collection:

Rounding First - Tommy

A two bedroom bungalow with all new appliances. The agent kept saying it was a perfect starter home, but you didn't care if it wound up as your forever home. This felt like a major step in your relationship. No more crashing in Mac's bachelor pad where your toothbrush mysteriously disappeared every couple weeks, no more living with a roommate and her guinea pig (did you know they're crepsecular?), and no more paying a landlord who took months to fix anything. Of course, you were buzzing.

The law firm was fancy. A massive oil painting of a pomegranate hung behind the receptionist that likely cost more than the down-payment on your home. You had never needed a lawyer before so you were using the place your grandpa recommended. 

Sitting down on the velvet sofa as the receptionist instructed, you still felt the same excitement inside your body that made you want to dance in place. The firm was posh, but not so posh that it dulled your joy down to nothing. 

Looking around at the other art work on the white walls, you noticed Mac settled deeper against the cushions and folded his hands together over his stomach. While adorable, it was a telltale sign that he was about to fall asleep. It did not matter where he was. If your boyfriend was comfortable enough, he could crash.  

“You can not nap here.” It was a warning and it leapt out of your mouth as such. Reaching back, you put your hand over both his and captured his attention. 

“I'm not going to.” His voice went up then down like the first hill in a rollercoaster. It was the sound someone made when they were caught and did not want to come clean. “Lower your brows. I'm not going to fall asleep.”

The wait was only two minutes longer before a woman who looked like she did not want to be there appeared and called you both ‘Mr. and Mrs. McDonald.’ Instead of correcting her, you both stood up and followed her noisy heels into a boardroom that looked like it could fit two dozen more people. 

“Mr. Dhaliwal will be with you shortly.” She asked you both if you wanted something to drink while you waited, but she was almost entirely out the door when you said ‘no’. 

Pulling some paperwork about the house from your purse, you smoothed it out in front of you. 

“Hey, can I have your ID?” You wanted to have everything you needed all together. 

Mac didn't answer and you spun to the side in the black swivel chair to see him in position, eyes closed while his shoulder acted as an ill-fitted pillow for his head.

“You can not nap here.” This time more amused, you reached over and teasingly flicked at his shoulder. 

He wiggled awake, wrinkling up his nose in protest.

“Okay, okay, I’m present.” Adjusting his posture, Mac rolled closer to the table until the edge was against his chest and pretended to review the paperwork in front of you. 

“Usually, it's very impressive, but we have to pretend we are swanky people who make big purchases and use lawyers right now.”  While holding out your hand for his ID, you explained.

“They would take our money no matter what kind of people we are. Lawyers are morally bankrupt bottom-feeders.” His voice was gravelly and uninterested, but you knew the sentiment came from the heart.

Mac slid his wallet out from the jacket of his pants and handed over his ID that sat in the first slot.

“Mac, you can not say that here. That's a thought we save for the drive home.” 

There was a brown leatherbound coffee table book in the center of the long table. You stood up and reached across for it, inching it closer and closer by the fingertips. 

“Here. Something to read while we wait.” 

“Schwartz Dangerfield LLP: 120 Years in Law.” Mac read from the cover while you cuddled in as much as the arms of the office chairs allowed. “You just told me I am not allowed to fall asleep.”

Pushing the book, you laughed then slipped your hands underneath your butt. Lawyers ran late. The rumors were true.

When Mr. Dhaliwal walked through the door, he announced himself like a children's show host: loud and full of enthusiasm. It was like he was the one buying the house. He clapped his hands together with a happy boom and reached to shake your hand. As you stood up, you realized it had happened. Mac had drifted off. 

You thanked the lawyer for meeting with you and wondered if you could get away with telling him that technically this was his fault as he kept you two waiting for almost twenty-five minutes. Even in your head, it was hard to make it polite so instead you shook his hand for too long while trying to reach for Mac behind your back with the other. Miraculously, you swiped just enough of his hair that he jolted up and presented himself.

If it was a talent that Mac could slip into slumber anywhere, it was a skill that he could snap out of it and instantly look alive. He stood up, stretched out an arm, and introduced himself with enough charm to distract from the fact that he was almost snoring seconds ago.

Four signatures, six initials, and nine minutes of small talk later, you two were the proud owners of 189 Netley Street. Possession date was a month away, but your bones ached as if that was an eternity.

All the way to the elevator, you had to keep your stomach tight to your ribs to prevent a squawk of delight from jumping out. Once inside the elevator, you and Mac grinned at each other, holding hands as you cheered, ‘We bought a house! We bought a house!’

“I can not believe you took a nap.” Breathy from entertained disbelief, you said while sliding into the passenger seat of his trusty Chevy. 

“What about her?”

“What about her? She’s not any good at baseball yet always walks when you’re pitching, twice has got a home run…”

“You think I go easy on her?”

“Either you’re going easy on her or the cartoon heart eyes that fall out of your face whenever she’s up make your arms too mushy to pitch.” He was not mincing words as he pulled at the thick fabric of his uniform shirt, his fingers pinching the 'B' in Bastards.

Sam looked to his friends for support, but Ray was nodding in agreement and Tommy was pretending to find interesting clouds to look at while he polished off a cold beer. 

“I don’t know what the Hell you’re talking about. I’m pitching.” Sam stuffed his fist into his glove, but when he turned around, Elliot’s wife was already in position and about to toss the ball. Instantly, you had your first strike.

“I’m not losing to the The D-Bags,” Diamondbacks. “Because you’re rockhard for a girl who won’t go out with you.” 

Sweat flicked at Elliot’s face from Sam’s neck as he turned so quickly to shoot his buddy a glare rarely seen outside of old school western movies. It was Elliot’s cue to go back behind the fence, reaching out preemptively for more chewing tobacco from Ray. 

Elliot stuffed the pouch of snuff into the back of his mouth and then held up two wet fingers at the side of his head. 

“Two games you’ve gone soft on her and two games she’s turned you down.” He said before turning around. “Don’t embarrass yourself.” Elliot sat down, forcing his butt between the sudden sliver of space between Zawi and Kelsey. 

Sam ripped his attention away from the team and looked out at the game. The umpire called ‘out’ and you walked by him, no skip this time, but still a friendly wave. Sam returned the gesture solemnly this time and went to the bench. Once his glove was off, he held open both hands and Mac tossed him a Coors from the cooler.

“I think she's going out with this trainer from the gym by my work. He's built like a gorilla. Maybe you're just not her type.” Kelsey offered with a voice that was as high as her ponytail. 

After they shook hands in the field, Elliot trying not to gloat about being victorious over the Diamondbacks, Sam carried his bag over his shoulder back to his car. He looked up from the gravel parking lot when Erik shouted to ask who was going to be on beer duty next week. Tommy raised his hand and claimed it before Sam had a chance. 

Elliot had just been calling him out, brother to brother. Kelsey had roasted him in front of the whole team and it made him feel two inches small. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see that Zawi was looking at him and mouthing, ‘She's so hot’. It was a good reminder that Kelsey didn't mean to bruise his ego. The beer helped him cool down anyway. 

“Are you guys going out to celebrate?”  Despite its lightness, your voice cut through the hollering and slamming car doors to steal Sam's attention.

He plucked the cap from his head and wiped at it, feeling his cheeks spread upward as he grinned.

“There's some talk of hitting up Buckley's." They sometimes referred to it as 'The Bastard's turf' and it was sounding less like a joke these days. What about you?”

“I don't think anybody wants to go celebrate our pitiful loss.” You laughed, holding the backseat door open with your bum and throwing in your backpack. 

“It's just rec. league. It's an excuse to get together and drink.” That was how Elliot and Erik sold it to everyone on base, talking like used car salesmen who were equal parts excited and obsessed with selling someone a rundown minivan. 

“I think I'm going to need something stronger. My favorite pitcher who makes me look good was benched today.” 

You were flirting. He pierced his own face with the hook you were dangling and stepped forward. The setting sun met your glistening face with a delicate kiss, illuminating the glow Sam always noticed when you walked the bases. He swore it was because you were part-angel. 

“Not my call.” He said like it was an apology. “Wait. What's something stronger?”

“Vanilla milkshake.” It felt like you were reeling him in as he watched your mouth enunciate the two words, making the popular drink sound like proof of God. He was so busy staring that he didn't see you were closing the car door and nearly nipped the tips of his fingers. “Oh! Jeez - are you okay?” 

“Never better.” Sam attempted to laugh at himself, wiping the back of his hand at the red dirt down his pants. “This vanilla milkshake…is that strictly for losers or…”

“You can get in on it, but on one condition…” Holding up a finger, you prevented him from taking another step. 

Please don't say your “gorilla boyfriend” is coming, Sam thought to himself. He felt that he still had a smile on, successfully keeping his concerns to himself. 

“Batting cages this weekend? Could you give me some pointers so I am not the worst player on my team?” 

Sam felt it. A shift above his nose. His eyes were becoming animated hearts like Elliot said. He felt like the clouds parted and the sunshine was blessing his face and not only yours. 

“You aren't the worst D-bag. No sweat.” He said, barely listening to himself.

“What did you just call me?” Confusion contorted your eyebrows as Sam rushed to pull his keys from his pockets. The jingling was so spastic, they sounded like the calling card of a mall Santa.

“There's an ice cream spot close to my place.” He kept it going, glazing over the fact that he had indirectly called you a douchebag. He was not going to mess up this opportunity because the nickname Elliot bestowed on the other team was stuck in his head. He was smoother than this and Sam promised that he would be once the initial shock of the woman he'd been asking out finally asking him out. "I can meet you there, figure out the weekend plan..."

Internally, he swore to be cooler than any gym personal trainer at the batting cages. It was all he could do not to think about you in position, asking for his help.

Thankfully, you agreed with the same smile you always gave him when you approached home base.

“A pipe burst in my building.” 

Elliot's shoulders relaxed and he stepped aside to let you in. 

“You know where the spare room is.” He whistled as he closed the door behind you. Elliot wasn't sure who at the table you knew and who you didn't. There had been backyard barbecues and birthdays that turned into drunk dance parties in the kitchen. Ray waved and asked how you were politely, and he saw Frank nod something of a ‘hello’ as he returned to the table eagerly. 

Once you were settled in the bare bones room that was more extra storage than the designated bedroom, you could hear the guys taunting one another at the table and intervals of laughter. It made you laugh in return as you put the pajamas you had been in when the caretaker of your building said you had to leave back on. They might have been out there happy to play round after round, but there was only so much you could do holed up in a spare room that would likely one day be for your first niece or nephew. 

A knock on the door jolted your attention away from the novel you were half-reading, blankets hanging off your bare shoulders. You were trying to mark your page and sit up at the same time when the door began to open at a snail's pace. A light from the rest of the house spread into your space. 

It wasn't Elliot checking in though. It was Ray, you saw his hand on the doorknob first, and followed his arm up to his face that was a cross between curious and pensive. 

“Hey.” He whispered before you gestured that he could come in. Thankfully, he closed the door behind him. “Are we being too loud out there?” He laughed, knowing very well they were. 

“Yes, but I can't complain. I'm an uninvited guest.” 

Ray shrugged, nervously slipping his hands into his pockets so his arms were tight against his sides. He didn't get the impression that Elliot was particularly put out by your presence. Plenty of friends had crashed on his couch before when they were too drunk to get home on their own. 

“I just wanted to come say hi. Haven't seen you in a minute.”

“Hi.” Reaching a hand up from under the covers, you waved with a flat palm. “Last time I saw you was in this room.”

“Oh yeah?” His throat tightened to make a sound that imitated surprise, but the corners of his lips gave Ray away. He already knew that. He had thought about that every time he had come over to Elliot’s since that night.

“Yeah, my body remembers.” Lowly, you whispered while looking down at your legs covered by the wrinkled blanket, recalling how Ray had spread them apart at the thighs while smirking the same smirk he was wearing right now at you.

There had been a lot of vodka based drinks involved, but even your sister agreed when you told her, it was a long time coming. 

“As soon as I got in here, I felt exactly the same way…” It was an overshare, but one that excited Ray in an instance.

He put one knee on the bed and lowered his gaze down your arms to your legs, remembering the way they brushed against his sides as he pushed them back for full access. 

“Maybe, I should be the judge of that.” After all, he did remember your body's response to his touch last time. He was happy to check and see if it was just as warm and needy as it had been then. 

Devilishly, you were both staring one another down as if you were trying to dare each other to make the first move and start all over again. 

Ray took the bait first. Putting his hands over yours, he leaned in and kissed you. At first, it was subtle - toes testing lake waters on the first day of summer. Once he felt you kiss back, he leaned his body into yours and greedily kissed back like if he was able to spell his name in your mouth he could make you his.

You were trying to pull your legs out from the blankets, eagerly wanting him closer, when Elliot's voice boomed from the living room. All the outside noise had faded until now, “Ray! Stop trying to finger-bang my sister-in-law and get out here! I'm dealing you in!” He sounded annoyed, but you were willing to bet it was all for show. 

Breaking contact with Ray's mouth, you giggled and wiped at your lips with your wrist. You realized now that your sister had told you years ago that she didn't keep secrets from Elliot and that he was privately a consumer of gossip. She would have been all too happy to curl up beside him in bed and fill him in with details of your hookup with Ray last time. 

Ray did not want to play another hand. He wanted to be exactly where he was with you beneath him, making your skin textured with goosebumps from the way he made you feel. 

“Go take all their money and come back and celebrate with me.” You whispered, using your chin to nod him off. 

“Do. not. move.” Ray growled as he kissed you again, nipping your bottom lip as if to leave some imaginary mark until he returned.