#Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x reader

[justabigassnerd]

Surprise Arrival

Pairing - Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x sister!reader

Word count - 1,464

Warnings - mentions of bad familial relationships, little bit of angst, mostly fluff

Summary - after turning up on Mickey's doorstep one night, you finally get to meet the Daggers

A/N - hey y'all it's been a while but here's a new fic! I really hope I did this request justice. I've never written for Mickey before so it was definitely new territory so I just hope it was good enough somehow. I won't ramble but as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

While Mickey Garcia, better known by his callsign Fanboy, was one of the more talkative of the Daggers. They didn’t know a lot about his private life. He could talk for days on end about Star Wars and Star Trek and debate various topics on both franchises, but he never chose to be completely open about things that happened in his life outside of work.

What the Daggers didn’t know about Mickey was that he had grown up with a rocky relationship with his parents. He loved and respected them, but he soon figured out they didn’t extend a similar courtesy to him, especially when he told them about how he applied to the Naval Academy. The worst part of it all was having to leave his little sister behind when he moved out. You were the one person he was closest to in the family, and he hated leaving you behind, but he made sure to stay in regular contact with you, so you maintained the strong sibling bond you had.

Then one evening you showed up at his front door.

You hadn’t given Mickey any kind of warning that you were going to do such a thing. He had just heard a knock at the door and gone to answer it, assuming it was Reuben coming around to check in on Mickey like he did occasionally but instead he was greeted with the sight of you behind the door, teary-eyed and a bag slung over your shoulder.

“y/n? What are you doing here?” Mickey asks, eyes wide in confusion as he peeks out the door, expecting to see you with someone else.

“Can I come in, please?” You ask quietly, voice evidently thick with the tears you’re trying to hold back. Mickey doesn’t respond with words, just opening the door wider and ushering you inside when he hears the slight pattering of rain against the pavement.

“Okay, you gotta tell me what’s up? How’d you even afford a flight out here?” Mickey asks the moment you’re in the house, taking your bag and setting it down while you sit yourself on the sofa, winding your arms around your middle as if to protect yourself.

“I’ve been saving up money from my job for a while now. I couldn’t bear to stay there any longer it’s like they’ve gotten ten times more unbearable since you left, and I can’t handle it, Mickey. Please let me stay with you. I can’t go back.” You explain, looking at your older brother with tear-filled eyes that break his heart as he listens to what you have to say.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it had gotten that bad. Of course, you can stay. You’re my sister. And if they ask me if you’re here I can tell them you’re not if you don’t want them to know where you are.” Mickey says, moving to sit next to you on the sofa and watching carefully as you nod gratefully at his words before burying yourself into his side for a sudden hug he was quick to return.

A week after your sudden arrival, you had been settling into your new life. Mickey had managed to get into contact with your old school and arrange a transfer to a nearby school. Mickey had also noticed how much happier you were now that you were permanently living with him. However, despite all that, the Daggers still had no clue about your arrival. He had been declining regular hangouts outside of work with them in favour of spending time with you to make up for the time he lost. He felt slightly guilty for constantly turning down the Daggers since he was usually the one encouraging the others to hang out and now, he was hiding away. One day, Mickey decided to bring up the topic of meeting the Daggers to you.

“Hey y/n/n. How would you feel about meeting the people I work with? There’s no pressure if you don’t want to of course.” Mickey offers as the two of you eat dinner, carefully watching your reaction to gauge how you might feel about it.

“Are they nice?” Was your response, and Mickey nodded without hesitation.

“We tease each other sometimes but it’s in good fun. They’re practically my family. They’ll love you I can promise you that.” Mickey says, doing his best to explain how much the Daggers mean to him. You listen carefully to his words, staying silent for a moment after he finishes speaking before finally nodding your head.

“Okay. I’d like to meet them.” You say, giving your brother a small smile as he grins in response.

“I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

A few days later, the Daggers had arranged to meet at the Hard Deck for their weekly Friday hangout and Mickey had made sure to send you a message letting you know where they were meeting and at what time, making sure to let you know that you could arrive whenever.

“It’s been ages since you hung out with us, Fanboy. Did your lady dump you or something?” Javy jokes as he slaps Mickey on the back as the Daggers grab their first round of beers.

“My lady?” Mickey asks, glancing around at all the Daggers with a confused expression.

“You’ve been ditching us a lot lately, so we just assumed you got yourself a girl.” Jake shrugs as he lifts his beer bottle to his lips before taking a swig.

“No, it’s nothing like that at all. I’ll explain myself soon, I promise.” Mickey says quickly, internally cringing at the team’s assumptions. The team seem to back off then, muttering to themselves and drinking their beers as they all move over to the pool table.

Half an hour after the Daggers arrived at the Hard Deck, you arrived too. You enter the bar, carefully navigating around the groups of people as you search for your brother until you finally catch sight of him chatting with some people by the pool table and slowly make your way over to him.

“Hey, Mickey.” You greet as you reach him, smiling as he lights up, immediately grabbing you into a hug.

“You came!” Mickey exclaims happily, hugging you tight as the rest of the group becomes aware of the interaction.

“Who’s this Fanboy?” Someone asks as you pull away from the hug, instantly aware of the pairs of eyes watching you.

“This is y/n. She’s, my sister.” Mickey introduces you to the group, winding an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side as you smile sheepishly. At the introduction, the team bursts into questions, all talking over each other as they ask both you and Mickey various questions.

“Whoa calm down guys. If you let them speak maybe, you’ll actually get an explanation.” A voice says strongly as a woman with black hair steps forward, glancing around at the rest of the team who quickly quieten down, mumbling apologies.

“Thanks, Phoenix.” Mickey mumbles gratefully, smiling quickly at her before focusing his attention on the rest of his squadron.

“y/n has decided she wants to live out here with me. I know I never really told you guys anything about my family but that’s just because I didn’t feel like it had any place in our conversations.” Mickey explains, looking around at all the Daggers as they exchange looks before Bradley clears his throat and steps forward.

“You’re always welcome to talk to us about anything. Doesn’t matter what. We’re your team and we’ll always be there for you.” He says, clapping Mickey on the shoulder as Reuben takes a step towards you.

“Hey, there y/n. I’m Reuben, or Payback if you prefer. I’m your brother’s pilot.” He introduces himself, holding a hand out for you to shake which you do with a smile.

“So, you’re the one who has to put up with Mickey.” You say with a laugh as Reuben chuckles nodding his head, both of you ignoring Mickey’s faux gasp of shock.

“The one and only.” Reuben says before more of the Daggers step forward to introduce themselves to you and once the introductions are over, they integrate you into their conversations smoothly and you feel like you’ve known them much longer than you have.

“I think we should make y/n an unofficial member of the Daggers.” Jake says after you finish telling a story about growing up with Mickey as your older brother, which is soon followed by sounds of agreement from the rest of the Daggers. As you watched them all nodding and agreeing with Jake’s words, you felt your heart swelling with happiness as Mickey tugged you into a side hug, smiling down at you.

You had finally found your family.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

sin adorno o flores | without decoration or flowers [mickey "fanboy" garcia x fem!reader]

Summary: Some soapy, sinful sweetness in the bathtub with Fanboy. (Thanks to @fanboys-fangirl for this one).

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x fem!civilian!reader (aka “Cielo;” as always no use of y/n – my readers are written ambiguous, but with a latina!reader in mind.)

Warnings: improbable bathtub shenanigans, adult content so 18+, fingering, allusions to smut, it’s unedited and probably terrible please don’t disown me.

Word Count: 1.7k of a sudsy, sexy solution to insomnia. 

--

Neither of you were immune to a sleepless night here and there.

Mickey knew you were prone to late night bouts of inspiration, slipping from your bedsheets to go draw. Prising yourself from his arms and leaving him with the lingering heat of your skin against his, dreams of sunlight and artist’s graceful hands dancing in his head.

And he would sometimes wake, the anxious itch that he had overslept or missed his alarm causing him to jolt awake at 2 a.m., damning him to spend the remainder of the witching hour tossing and turning. Restless nights when he was away were spent with wisps of you in his arms, in the form of imagination. Longing for the feel of your skin against his, despite damnable distance.

Even when he was home, sleep had a funny way of remaining elusive. Blame it on jet lag. Blame it on adrenaline. Blame it on the thoughts running a mile a minute in his head, the way the sky blurs past the canopy of his jet, an ocean of streaking, rolling blue.

Mickey's thoughts are muddled as he slips from your shared bed, careful not to disturb you as you continue to snooze on -- and were you dreaming of him? Your thoughts spinning, spilling into your pillow to piece together from dreams into shareable thoughts when you wake, an easy smile detectable on your lips through the 2 a.m. hazy spell of the room. 

Mickey creeps into the ensuite bathroom, cursing the transition of cold hardwood beneath his feet to cold tile as he shuts the door behind him and makes his way over to the tub -- cranking the brass tap and praying that the sudden rumble of water into the porcelain isn't enough to disturb your sleep.

You had a long day, after all. While Mickey played COD with Payback, you had worked. Taking nonstop calls from your project manager.

And you had still made time to make dinner. Mickey had helped, of course – If by help, you counted him slipping his hands along your waist as he crept up behind you while waiting for the pasta to boil. The warmth of his hands flooding through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, improbably unstoppable. His lips meeting your neck in a teasing peck, humming into your skin like tickling, tufty bee’s wings, as he watched you stir the noodles. 

“You’re not getting out of heating the sauce,” you admonished, turning in his arm to press a kiss to his lips, all scorn in your voice absent in favor of a lilting tease. 

“Baby,” he rumbled. “I’ll heat up every jar of alfredo I can find if you make that mean little wrinkle with your eyebrows at me again.”

You frowned.

“That’s the one,” he kissed your cheek. “Gets me hot.”  

And after dinner, you’d had to go back to your project – promises of devilish downtime with your boyfriend crumbling as the evening wore on, and the two of you had gone to bed.

Now, while he waited for the tub to fill, Mickey lit your large basin candle on the stand near the tub, the smell of cinnamon and oranges instantaneously filling his nose, washing him in warm sweetness as he dropped some of your honey-oat bath milk into the tub, watching it froth and foam. He eased himself into the tub, urging his mind to sooth as the warm water seeped and danced over his skin.

–

The slicing splash of water from the other side of the bathroom door meets your ears, stirring you from lavender hued dreams of warm smiles, tanned skin, and inky curls. Of the skimming skate of warm palms rasping up the skin of your arms and shoulders. Cupping your jaw. Of the hazy promise of a kiss, even in your dreams, as smiling lips danced along yours.

It was such a good dream.

You turned in your sheets, hands seeking hands in the darkness of your room, eager to make your dream a reality --

Only to find that his side of the bed was empty. Hm.

The tinkling trail of water dripping into the tub met your ears once more, prompting you to ease out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. 

Opening the door to be met with the sight of your beloved -- his curls, which had grown out since his return home, pulled back into a bun, a loose tendril sticking to his forehead, frizzing slightly at the steaming heat of the bathwater. 

And it was staggering, you thought, how he managed to steal the breath from your lungs each time, after all this time, like some sort of clever trick. One that he would never share. 

"A magician never reveals their secrets, Cielo," he would tease.

But he looked magical now, you thought. The golden glow of your single candle splashing across the exposed tawny skin of his arms, resting against the porcelain curve of the tub. His eyes closed and head tilted back as he rested in the warm, soapy water. 

He cracked an eye open, as though greeting you with a sleepy wink -- still cheeky, even when exhausted. His lips curling into a smile as he took in your form in the doorway. 

"Couldn't sleep?" You murmured, your footsteps silent over the tile as you made your way to the side of the tub.

Mickey groaned in response.

"Hmm, no." He opened both eyes now, sitting up and allowing the soapy bubbles that had rested there to slip their way down his chest with the movement. 

"Do you want to talk about it? Or just a restless night?" You eased, crouching beside the tub and allowing your arm to drape over the side. You trailed your fingers through the water, admiring the trails you cut through the soapy water, before glancing up to lock eyes with your beloved. 

“Just a tough night to sleep,” he shrugged. “But this is helping. You should go back to sleep, Cielo. I’ll be back in in a bit.”

“Well I’m awake now,” you huffed in mock consternation, allowing your brow to crease in the sexy little frown he had teased you for before. You reached for his hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “I suppose,” you pressed your lips to each fingertip between your words. “I could join you?” 

Mickey nodded, swallowing heavily in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took in the sight of you, standing now to step into the tub. His hand still joined with yours, he guided you into the water as you were, still clothed in your loose, soft sleeping t-shirt and white panties. 

You eased your way down with Mickey’s guidance, coming to rest between his legs, the feel of his firm chest pressing into your back through the damp shirt now sticking to your skin. You rested your head against his shoulder, sighing at the feel of being held once more.

“Relaxed?” you asked, tilting your head to look back and up at him, only to find his gaze already upon you.

His irises were the slow drip of honeyed bourbon, swirling, in the dim glow of your bathroom by candlelight as he took you in. His gaze blazing along your skin, taking in the sight of the rise and fall of your chest, your nipples visible through the thin dampness of your t-shirt as it clung to you. 

“No,” Mickey bit, reaching for you and allowing his hands to slip, obscured beneath the soapy water to toy with the elastic of your panties at your waist. Gripping your skin beneath your shirt as he allowed the water to assist, turning you in his lap to face him. Your chest now pressed against his.

Mickey’s lips met yours, a euphoric rush of sweltering sin as he nipped your lower lip. Easing your lips to part with heat and bite as he slid his tongue into your mouth, one hand at the back of your neck and one at the curve of the small of your back, keeping your hips pressed to his.

He released your lips from his, his eyes taking you in, wild and wanton –  the sections of hair dampened by his touch, your kiss-swollen lips. Your blown, doe-eyes glimmering like bottle-glass in the dim light of the bathroom. He reveled in the feel of the rise and fall of your chest as against his, the feel of your pebbled nipples. Of the now-soaked shirt clinging to your every dip and curve.

“Gonna kiss me again, Romeo?” you asked, breathlessly.

Mickey smiled, a fox’s grin. He parted his legs further, pressing them against the edges of the edges of the porcelain, allowing you to fill the space as he wrapped his arms fully around you, his hands spanning against your back. Pushing your shirt like tissue paper up and exposing more of your damp, glistening skin to his gaze as he brought his lips to yours once more. 

Using his leverage as he leaned back into the tub, bringing you with him, slipping up his body from your space between his legs. Your panties soaked through and clinging to you as you rolled your hips, begging for some friction as he continued to kiss you.

You brought your hands up the firm plane of his chest, allowing them to rest there as you parted your lips from his, taking in the glow-lit sight of your beloved below you.

And there it was again, you thought. The magician’s trick.

Mickey was still smirking at you through lust-blown eyes as one of his hands wandered from the small of your back. One hand to your neck as he kissed you again, tugging at the collar of your t-shirt, tugging it aside to press a kiss to your collarbone, a sly, sensational little thing – the feeling of his lips on your skin. The other hand moved toward your waist, inching toward your center, a thick finger snapping the waist of your panties against your slick, heated skin, the action muffled by the warm-but-cooling bathwater. He slid his down the front of your panties, a thick finger running along your wet slit, purposeful and cruel.

You tilted your head back at the feeling of his fingers at your center, sweet and firm, causing your eyes to flutter shut and your lips to part, the attention rendering the fluttering feeling between your thighs giving way to full, pulsing ache.

Mickey paused to take in the sight of you – of the bubbles trailing along your skin, glinting in the candlelight. 

The sloshing water met your ears as Mickey shifted beneath you, sitting up more fully to guide your lips into a kiss once more as he eased a finger inside of you, stroking you gently as the water continued to roll with the motion. 

“M,” you gasped, using your hands still pressed to his chest to push away, “Don’t take this the wrong way,” you rolled your hips against his hand once, a cracked-glass moan catching in your throat as the curve of his finger inside of you caused you to throb. “But we’ve gotta stop.”

Mickey’s brow creased at your words, a mild frown of his own playing on his shadow-danced features as you gently guided his hand from you with a gentle grip on his wrist. 

On shaky, Bambi legs, you made to stand – Mickey’s wrist still gripped in yours as you stepped out of the tub and onto the plush bath mat.

“Cielo, if this is some kind of game,” Mickey’s eyes followed you as you went, doing his best to keep the minor crack of desperation from his voice. You weren’t the only one aching by now, after all …

“No game,” you guided Mickey to stand in the tub, removing your grip from his to bring your hands to your own waist. With a traipsing trip, you hooked your fingers through the waistband of your panties, allowing the damp fabric to roll as you guided it down your legs to step out of them, kicking them to the side. “No trick,” you assured. 

You helped Mickey step from the tub, his body pressed to yours as you both stood on the plush rectangle of the bath mat. You glanced up at him through your lashes, guiding his hand to cup your jaw. Turning  your face slightly in his grip, you allowed your lips to follow, sucking his thumb lightly as you kept your heated gaze locked on his…

Reveling in the visible swallow in his throat at the feeling of your lips around him. In the way the candlelight made the peaks of his high cheekbones look somehow finer. As though your love was made of spun gold and the liquid aureate drip of the late-afternoon winter sun. 

“I know just how to help you sleep,” you murmured, leading him from your bathroom back to the bedroom and guiding him down onto the sheets –  dampness be damned.

Mickey had his tricks, sure. But so did you. 

tagging:  @joaquinwhorres @withahappyrefrain @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboys-fangirl @siriusfahey @the-navistar-carol @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid   @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @callmemana @mxgyver  @andrewrussgarfield @bioodforbiood  @the-purity-pen @luxuryberzatto @liz-allyn  @moonlight-prose @thegirlwhowritesfics @phoebe-danvers ​@jadore-andor  @marvelousmermaid @spidervee ​@t-nd-rfoot @teacupsandtopgun @therebeccaw​

[make-me-imagine]

Secret Santa: Part One

12 Days of Christmas: Day 10

Plot: When you and the squad end up taking part in a Secret Santa exchange. The gifts you receive end up being love confessions. But who are they from?

[Bob's Ending] [Fanboy's Ending] [Hangman's Ending] [Rooster's Ending] [Maverick's Ending]

Pairing: Gn!Reader x ??? (Choose your own character ending) *Possible Endings: Bob, Fanboy, Rooster, Hangman & Maverick

Words: 2.9k

A/n: Bob and Fanboys endings will be posted Christmas Eve. And the other three will come out Christmas Day. I will add the links to this fic once they are posted.

-

Walking towards the training room, you heard the familiar voices of the other pilots. You had been reunited with the dagger squad, and some other pilots you knew from the past. Another mission, another training program, trained once again by Maverick.

Through the grueling training and test flights, you were enjoying your time being with the others again. Though you had to admit you were excited about one, more than the others, but you were sure they didn't know that.

As you entered the room, your eyes cast over the group. Hangman and Rooster were bickering as usual, while Bob and Phoenix rolled their eyes. Fanboy, Payback and Coyote watched silently, sharing the occasional look.

Seeing you enter Jake turned in his seat "Y/n, perfect, perhaps you could solve our little problem."

"Nope, no." You shook your head as you took your seat, "Do not drag me into whatever is going on, I don't want to be a part of it."

Phoenix and Bob snickered as Jake leaned over"Come on, I think you'd be on my side."

"Like hell they would." Rooster broke in.

You shook your head with a soft smile as you saw Maverick enter. "Pilots, good morning." He said with a cheery voice.

His eyes ran over you and the others as he walked past. In his hands was a Santa hat.

As he stopped at the podium he looked at all of you in silence for a short moment. "Before we start our training today, I thought we might have a little Christmas fun."

You quirked your brow and sat up a bit, you saw the others do the same.

"Sir?" Bob asked with a curious tone.

"Secret Santa!" He said with a smile.

A small murmur went over the group as Maverick shook the hat in his hands. "In this hat are all of our names. You will each pick a name, and over the next three days, starting tomorrow, you have to give your person three gifts."

"Three?" Jake spoke up.

"Yes, three. On day three, by the end of the day, you must give me a slip of paper with the name of the person you gifted, and the name of the person you think is your gift giver. If you guess correctly, you get a day off of training. If you are wrong. You will be cleaning up after the Christmas party."

A small groan came from the group as you all pictured what mess would be left behind after that.

"There are two rules. One, don't get caught leaving your person a gift, or you are disqualified. Two, do not tell anyone who your person is."

As Maverick walked around holding the hat out for everyone to take a name, your eyes scanned over everyone. You wonder who would be the easiest person to buy a gift for. Your eyes lingered on one person as you thought of a thousand things you could get them.

"If you get yourself, grab a different name." He said softly as he continued down the line.

Getting to you, he gave you a small smile as you reached in. Pulling out a slip of paper you opened it to read 'Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace.' You smiled softly before closing the paper and shoving it in your pocket.

After everyone had chosen their names, the class went on like usual, though you knew everyone was a bit distracted, thinking of what to get their chosen person. Though it wasn't a competition, a familiar buzz ran through the room.

You tried not to look at Phoenix, not wanting to give away she was who you got. But you did glance around, wondering if you might find someone looking at you.

You would be lying if you didn't have someone particular in mind as to who you hoped might be your secret Santa. The same person you thought would be the easiest to buy for. Though, the luck of them getting you was pretty small.

By the end of training you had enough time left to go out and try to find a gift for Phoenix. You had thought long and hard about the types of gifts she might like, but you still struggled. Knowing she had a thing for antique and vintage objects, you thought going to an antique store might do the trick.

Walking through the store, you looked at various objects, before finally landing on an old hourglass carved out of wood. It was certainly unique, and looked old. Buying it, you hoped she would like it. Knowing you wouldn't really know for a few days.

Making it back to the base after another hour of shopping you felt relieved, having bought three gifts for Phoenix, and some wrapping paper.

As you walked down the corridor, you saw Bob walking towards you. He smiled and his eyes caught on the wrapping paper in your hands.

"Don't tell me you got all your gifts already?" He asked with mild surprise.

You smiled "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't" You said jokingly as you continued past him, seeing him smile at you as he nodded in understanding.

As you rounded the corner, you looked back, seeing him disappear around the corner. 'I bet he's a great gift giver' You thought to yourself as you made your way back to your room.

Unpacking your shopping bags, you looked at the gifts you got Natasha. The hourglass, a gift card for one of her favorite shops she could never convince herself to buy something from, and a Phoenix pendant necklace you managed to find by chance in a cute shop near the beach. You had almost jumped in excitement when you saw it.

After wrapping the gifts, you finally went to sleep, your last thoughts being about who may have picked your name from the hat.

--- --- ---

During your break in between training the next day, you snuck Natasha's first present out of your room and quickly made your way to her room. Setting the present down in front of her door, you rushed back to your room. Breathing a breath of relief as no one spotted you.

As you rounded the corner to your room, you stopped as you spotted a bouquet of flowers placed at your door.

"Wha-" You looked back down the hall in bewilderment.

You had only been gone for a few minutes, and you hadn't seen or heard anyone else.

"Sneaky" You whispered to yourself as you walked up to your door.

Picking up the flowers, you smiled at them. It was a beautiful bouquet of Gardenias in an ornamental Christmas colored vase. You smelled them as you made your way into your room.

You knew it was a well known fact that you loved flowers, and often knew the meaning behind them, enjoying the symbolism of each individual flower. You were teased by some of the others about this in the past, which didn't really narrow down who might be your secret Santa.

"Gardenias" You muttered to yourself as you tried to remember the meaning behind them.

Seeing a small note in the flowers, you pulled it out to see a short typed note.

'There's importance in the symbolism.'

You smiled as you remembered saying this once when the others were teasing you about why you were so determined to get the right flowers for someone as a gift.

Thinking back to that moment, you tried to remember who was in the room. Maverick, Hangman, Rooster, Bob, Fanboy and Coyote. Well, that doesn't narrow it down much.

"Appreciation? No, that's not it. Joy!" You knew that was at least one of them.

Setting the flowers on your table, you pulled out your phone to look it up. As you scrolled through the meaning of gardenias, your eyes caught on one particular meaning.

"Secret Love?" You asked softly, your heart beating heavily in your chest.

No, it could be the 'you're lovely' meaning. Just a friendly message. Not an admission. Unless it was?

As someone popped into your head, you felt a mild sense of hope, before you pushed it away. It might be a mistake. They may not have seen the meaning of gardenias as secret love.

You decided not to focus on this too much. Not until you knew more, maybe the next gift would tell you?

Hearing your alarm, you made your way out of your room for your next test flight. You took one last look at the flowers as you went.

As much as you tried, the idea of the flowers left for you being a confession stuck in your mind. You couldn't help but look at the others, wondering if it could be any of them.

You had hopeful thoughts for one, but that was all it was. Hope. There wasn't anything that made it seem obvious that they had feelings for you. Nor had there been from any of the others.

You were close to all of them, good friends. But secret love? You really weren't sure.

--- --- ---

The next day the pilots were abuzz with talk of their presents. Each trying to trick their Secret Santa into giving themselves away. Everyone eyed each other with suspicious gazes.

Natasha briefly mentioned the hourglass, and you could tell she had liked it. That was all the gratification you needed.

You kept your present to yourself, knowing that everyone would tease you about the flowers. Asking what their meaning was. You didn't want to out the meaning in case it was a mistake. So you played coy, only making everyone else more curious.

"Maybe their secret Santa forgot to give them their present?" Fanboy asked as he eyed you, his chin resting on the back of the chair in front of him.

You smiled softly at him and made a motion of a zipper across your lips as you looked to the front of the class as Maverick entered.

"Alright everyone, I know you are all talking about your secret Santa's Anyone get caught leaving a present?"

The was silence among the crowd and Maverick smiled "Good, stealth is important, I'd be disappointed if anyone got caught."

You were nervous to head back to your room after training. Expecting another present to be left for you. There was an odd sense of suspense, that you weren't sure was based around excitement or dread.

As you rounded the corner, and your eyes locked onto your door, you felt an odd pang in your chest as you saw nothing sitting at your door. Maybe they hadn't had time to leave it? Maybe they changed their mind on the prssent?

Getting to your door, you opened it, accepting that you were a bit disappointed. As you stepped into your room, you flinched as a small box fell from your door and bounced off your head, landing on the ground.

"What the hell?" You asked perplexed as you looked up at your door, seeing a small piece of tape, had been holding the box there. "How the hell-" You mumbled off as you reached down and grabbed the box.

You looked over at the window, wondering if they used it to get in. Or maybe they got the key?

Opening the small box, your heart was racing. Would this present give away another secret? Would it confirm or deny the meaning of the flowers? And why tape it to the door?

Seeing a small chain, you grabbed it and pulled it out, revealing a small glass apple on the end. It was cute, but you wondered why they chose it of all things.

Seeing a piece of paper in the box, you pulled it out. Taking a deep breath as you opened it.

Another typed out message.

'Did you know in Ancient Greece, to throw an apple at someone was a declaration of love?'

Your breath caught in your throat as you read over the message again and again. To throw an apple? So the rigged the box to fall on you as though they were throwing it at you?

You wanted to laugh, but your heart was hammering too heavily. You sat on your bed and looked over at the gardenias. So it did mean secret love. That wasn't a misunderstanding.

As you sat there, thinking it over, more realizations came to mind.

The person who got you happened to be in love with you, and was now using the secret Santa exchange as a way to tell you.

You let out a long drawn out breath. You were touched, and excited, yet nervous. There was only one person out of all the pilots these gifts would really mean something from. If it was any of the others, could you ever feel the same?

Who would know about Ancient Greece? You wondered. It definitely seemed like some odd fact Bob, Rooster or Fanboy might pick up at some point. Hangman could be a secret romantic. Maverick was playing the game too and he knew a lot about random things.

You felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety wash over you. Lying down you stared up at your cieling as you held the small apple necklace to your chest. It wasn't obvious who it could be. Would it be an insult to this person to keep hoping it was one specific person?

It would only hurt you more if you kept hoping it was them, and you were wrong.

Maybe the third gift would give it away. Sitting up, it suddenly donned on you that you needed to leave Natasha her second gift.

"Shit." You muttered as you looked over at envelope with the gift card. I could slip it into her locker, you thought. Or slip it under her door.

This secret Santa exchange took such a different turn than you were expecting, and you really didn't know how to act.

Looking at the clock, you saw it was nearly time to head out. You were all heading out to get dinner. You'd take the envelope with you, hoping to find a moment to slip it into her bag or car sometime during the night.

And maybe you could gather some hints about who might be your secret...admirer?

--- --- ---

As you walked across the tarmac the next day, your eyes landed on the person walking up to you.

"Nice time." Rooster said as he slowed in his step.

"Thanks, think you can beat it?" You asked with a teasing tone.

"I know I can." He winked before continuing past you and towards his jet.

You smiled and shook your head softly as you headed towards the locker room. After a long day of training, you were finally done.

You even managed to slip the last gift for Phoenix into her bag this morning. Having slipped the envelope under her door the previous night once you got back from the dinner.

During said dinner, hen the topic of secret Santa came up, you tried to pay attention To hints of who might be your secret Santa. But you learned nothing, everyone was keeping it close to their chests.

Today was the last day of the Secret Santa exchange. By eight this evening you had to give Maverick a slip of paper with your guess on it. You had yet to receive your third gift, and had yet to figure out who it was.

Opening your locker, you watched as an envelope fell to the floor. You looked around, seeing and hearing no one else in the room. Picking it up, you opened it, with your heart beating faster than before.

The third gift, what would it be? A full length confession? A gift card?

As you pulled two slips of paper out, your mouth opened slightly in surprise.

One slip was a ticket to a Christmas festival behind held about an hour away tomorrow night. You had wanted to go, but the tickets sold out too fast.

The second piece of paper was a short note, once again typed out.

'I have the other ticket, find me there.'

You stared at the paper in contemplation. So they had every intention of you finding out who they were after all. 'Find me there.'

It had to be someone who knew you wanted to go to the festival. Who did you mention it to?

Thinking back on it you sighed. Five of them knew about the ticket. That hardly narrowed it down. Though you were still aware that that specific someone always on your mind was one of them.

Tucking the ticket and note back into the envelope you put it in your duffle. You needed to decide what to do.

Not only who to guess, but whether or not you were ready to find out who they were. To find out who apparently had hidden feelings for you.

Your mind was heavy with uncertainty as you headed to Maverick's office at the end of the day. As you knocked on the door and handed him the paper, your heart was never steady.

You didn't know who you would find at the festival tomorrow, but you knew who you wanted it to be. Whether or not it was them, you would go, you had to. And if it was someone that you didn't have feelings for, well, you would deal with it then. No matter what.

Even with the nerve wracking thought it was unrequited love you might be finding at the festival, the hope that it was not unrequited, that it was a shared feeling, hidden between the two of you, made it worth the risk.

You just hoped you still thought that tomorrow.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Top Gun Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal, @springflwer07, @pockyandme, @iceman-kazansky, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @callsignmaverick5, @phoenix1389

Hangman/Rooster Taglist: @readingwithatorch,

[ouralcohol]

Bésame la boca

Pairing: Mickey “fanboy” Garcia x fem!reader 

Summary: what happens when a ghost from Mickey’s past comes back to haunt him on NYE? 

Tags: angst, lots of angst, 18+, cursing, Spanish mixed in there, reader is nicknamed pequeñita which means tiny, reader is short by the nickname. Reader is Latina. 

Author’s note: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and this is dedicated to my dear friend @rae-gar-targaryen, who’s a year wiser this week and I love her. sorry for the jumble... this was supposed to be a BLURB.

You had to see him.

You couldn’t help it. It had been years since you last saw him. You tried every night to answer the impossible, to answer the why’s, to answer questions that you had never asked anyone. Only he knew the answers. Only he knew because he’s the one that left you there. 

And you waited. 

You waited like a fool in love because what else were you supposed to do? 

After the days passed, you wondered what had happened that made you repel him from you. Was it your fault? It hadn’t been the best last conversation you had with him. You regretted the words that had left your lips as soon as you said them… that didn’t mean that he had to leave like that. Leave you. 

Enough was enough. At least you told that to yourself every day and every night that you sat and waited for him. Waited for him to call, to text, to come to your house, to see you, to tell you that he was sorry, to tell you that it had all been a mistake. 

You had been a fool in love with him. How could you not be, with his sweet demeanor and silky voice? With the raven curls that you ran your hands through for days? With the eyes that made you weak every time he looked in your direction? 

Goddamn Mickey Garcia. 

Years passed by and you managed to move on. The word had been that he had left to become a pilot. An aviator. He always did mention that he wanted to fly, especially in his younger years. You remembered that his mother had been worried about the profession, but he assured her, no doubt. The whole barrio knew what he was doing… except you. How could you be so oblivious? How could you be such an idiot? You really thought he was going to follow after his father’s footsteps and take over the family business. 

Wrong, so wrong.

So while he went on to live his dream, why couldn’t you? He had been included in your dream once upon a time. You achieved your attainable goals and managed to get a decent job with the degree that you worked so tirelessly for. 

He had become an unattainable dream that you longed for. 

You thought about the man an embarrassing amount of times, as he always lingered in the darkest corner of your mind, trying to break free so your life could be consumed by him. You fought every day and you didn’t let it win. You didn’t because he didn’t even give you a reason. He didn’t even say goodbye. 

One day he was just gone, like the blink of an eye. 

When the months turned into years, you found out where he had gone. You found out where he was stationed, but you didn’t dare face him. Oh no. You stayed put in the world you knew, in the world that was safe, in the world where you knew every nook and cranny. 

As it turns out, he wasn’t far away. He wasn’t far away at all… maybe a couple of cities across the state. You were thankful for distance when you found out, but also felt ridiculed that he never came back to you. Did he find someone better? Did he find someone that could give him what he wanted instead of what you both wanted? Instead of what you had hoped and aspired for? You hated that every time you tried to date, his voice crept in the back of your mind, you hated that every time you tried to go out he was there to tell you no, that you needed to go home and study or relax. 

Mickey ruined you in every aspect. 

He ruined you forever as nobody would ever compare to him, from the way his hands used your body, to the way his lips kissed all the worries away, to the way that his eyes made you feel like you were some ethereal goddess walking on this Earth. 

When he left, so did your heart and everything else that went with him. 

Did he know that? 

You weren’t sure, but you also didn’t want to find out at the same time because maybe you were the problem. Maybe you have always been the problem. How come he didn’t break up with you? How come he didn’t tell you to your face that he didn’t want anything to do with you?

Which is what led you to where you were now. New Year’s Eve was around the corner and a friend that you hadn’t seen in a while had invited you out. There was an apprehension on your end, but then she told you that she wanted to go to a place called the Hard Deck. 

There was only one Hard Deck. You knew where it was. You knew who was there. How did your friend know about this? Why did she want to go there? “Any particular reason you want to spend the last day of the year there? And to drive all those hours?” You queried her as you were at a store rummaging through clothes to see if you could find something to wear. 

“Don’t you want to go see all the hot aviators? That’s where they all spend their time from what I hear. There’s just something so sexy about pilots… you know?” 

“So you’re telling me that you want to drive a lengthy distance just to go look at some men with nice Ray-Bans? Just to gawk at them?” You sounded incredulous spotting a dress that caught your eye. It resembled a sunset, you thought.  

Your friend let out a small laugh, “It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

‘Cause it was. 

Would Mickey Garcia be there? Would he be deployed? Would he… fuck the what ifs. 

Fuck it all and fuck his pretty eyes with his pretty face and his pretty personality. Hell, maybe he wasn’t even the same Mickey that you used to know… after all it had been what, five, maybe six years since you last saw him? How could you pine for someone like him when he clearly left you in the dust? 

You were a stupid girl. You were stupid in still thinking about him for as long as you could remember. You tried to think of why you kept thinking about him, why the mere thought of him kept you up at night. It came in waves, in phases. Somehow you managed to work through it all and you were quite surprised with yourself. Mickey Garcia had been it for you, but clearly you weren’t the endgame for him. 

It was fine.

It really wasn’t. 

You felt foolish. 

You were foolish. 

“I mean, we’re not groupies… but I suppose we could make a girl’s trip out of it?” You suggested… why… 

It was time to face him. If he was even there to begin with.

You needed answers that had been haunting you for years and had kept you up at night. His eyes crept up in your dreams and nightmares. How he had always managed to sneak himself into your daily thoughts for years. It wasn’t fair that he did this to you. 

Why did he have to be so cruel? You didn’t appreciate that you had wasted time for him. The tears you shed had purpose and you hated it. You hated that he did this to you, tainted you in more ways than one. 

You were pathetic, but you had to find out why. 

Your friend agreed, beaming at you. Since it was her idea, she proposed that she could find a hotel and pay for the room the both of you would share. You liked the idea, but only if you got to drive. Driving was one of those things that made you feel better, it was therapy. You enjoyed doing it and didn’t mind the distance. It had been a second since you went on vacation, so it was a good excuse to leave the city on one of the busiest nights of the year. New Year’s Eve was always crazy with the hopes of a new beginning. The end of a whole year, while the string of something new lingering in the air, causing everyone’s mood to shift. 

You always felt to be in better spirits when the new year began. There was a glimmer that maybe, just maybe, you would wake up and it was all a dream, that none of the past six years had happened. 

You always woke up in the nightmare that he wasn’t there with you, and you loathed it. You hated yourself for making things about him. For revolving your world around his orbit… even though he wasn’t there. God, you were very pathetic. 

The bags were packed, the car full of gas, and you and your friend had nothing but a road ahead of you. Give or take… six or seven hours of driving. 

That’s how far Mickey García had been from you after all of these years. 

Had you been selfish? Sure. So had he. Had you put yourself first this time? No doubt, but so had he. Had you asked him to stay? Had you asked him for you to be his priority? One hundred percent. He had been yours, so why couldn’t he do the same? 

***

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The way the dress flowed and hit every curve, the way your hair was done was simple and mostly the same, but somehow different. The way your make-up made you look mature, older, wiser, the way that your eyes sparkled under the dim light. Even the way the blood rushed to your apple cheeks made you endearing. There wasn’t much to work with, really, but you had never thought of yourself as someone worth looking at over the years. This dress wasn’t out of the ordinary, as you often wore sundresses occasionally. The thing that was different was how much longer your hair was, how things seemed to have evened out through the years, how you were more woman than child. 

“He’s going to drop dead.” She said to you quietly while you fiddled with the ends of your hair. 

You had shared with her your biggest regret. You had shared with her the biggest mistake you ever made. You had shared with her what a stupid woman you were. How you could long for someone that probably forgot about you. 

There was a simple shrug from your shoulders, “He won’t even remember me. Besides, we don’t even know if he’s stationed here.. He could be somewhere else.”  

You were afraid to say the elephant in the room, afraid to even whisper his name. 

“Want to go find out?” It was a question that you had been asking yourself from the beginning. 

Did you? Did you want to find out if he was here? If he would be there? If he would even face you? 

The voice in the back of your brain said an immediate yes. How would he have changed throughout the years? How would he be different? Would he be the same? All the questions are already bubbling at your lips. 

The anticipation was building in your stomach as you felt the blood rush to your face again. There was a final tone to your voice, “Yes.” 

She took you by the hand and both of you walked out of the hotel room and into the path of the unknown and uncertainty. You could hear the blood pumping through your veins in your ear, almost like a ringing, reminding you of how this moment was making you feel. Your breathing was even, but the thundering of your heart pounding against your chest while you stepped foot into the bar made you forget your name. The combination of the pounding and your hands shaking was enough for you to make a beeline for the bar. 

“Two shots of the finest Tequila you have.” You told the bartender as you surprised yourself with how calm your voice was. 

You didn’t even bother to look in any direction, not knowing if he was here or not. 

“They’re so hot.. All of them.” She spoke in your ear while letting out a laugh. 

You cackled out of nerves, forgetting the whole reason why you were there. It was to admire the pilots. Your nerves were in overdrive as you grabbed the shot, placed your card down for the bartender to take and took it without even toasting. The tequila went down your throat burning a path in its way, but it was enough to distract you from the mess you were in at the moment. “Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. Your eyes stayed on the table, afraid he would be there, afraid he would have spotted you, afraid that you were in his safety zone. 

“Everyone keeps looking at you.” She spoke again after she took her own shot. 

“I’m sure they’re looking at you.” You nodded furiously, not wanting to go into that right now. 

“He’s not here.” She whispered to you while giving you a sympathetic look.

You shouldn’t have been disappointed. You shouldn’t have had expectations of actually seeing him and his pretty eyes. 

You just shouldn’t. 

Before you could say anything, though, the piano keys rang through the bar, causing everyone in it to cheer and start singing along to the song that apparently one of the pilots had begun to sing and play. It was the last day of the year and everyone was in high spirits. Everyone was cheering around you, passing beers left and right. 

“Another.” You told the barkeep as she strolled by to ask you what else you wanted. 

You didn’t drink and this wasn’t helping, but it was a distraction to the internal turmoil that you were going through. What the fuck was your own problem? How could someone you hadn’t seen in years make you feel this way? 

How? 

As she placed the shot in your view, you grabbed it again and took it without a second thought. Your eyes stayed glued on the glass, noticing how your lipstick surrounded the rim with the color of your lips for this evening… 

Your mood was sour. You were enraged with yourself and the fact that he wasn’t here. You were enraged that you had hoped for this, you were enraged that you would think that this would all be like a fairytale with a happy ending, you were enraged that you were in a state of dream rather than reality. You were enraged that you let him consume you in everything you did, every breath you took, and how he filled your senses every goddamn time. 

The singing and playing continued as every aviator and their mother hollered at the top of their lungs. Talk about a magnified frat party. The friend that was supposedly with you got whisked away by one of them. “He asked me to dance. It’s just a dance.” She purred in your ear as you could see the excitement bursting through every word. 

You silently nodded toward her. None of this was her fault, this was all your doing. 

It sucked not being able to match the mood in the room when you sat there sulking in your mistakes and regrets. 

You just wished you would have left him instead. 

The instant buzz of the alcohol was now running through your system as it amplified every nervous symptom you were feeling. At least your hands stopped shaking, but now you were just sitting alone at the bar contemplating your move. Contemplating going back to the hotel and continuing being pathetic. Nobody would see you at least. 

You didn’t know what to do… there was always the possibility… but possibilities didn’t exist in your book. Not when he was the only possibility that was unattainable. 

Time was nonexistent right now. What was minutes felt like seconds and hours felt like a flash. Your brain was going hazy, you were never too good with alcohol. A soft smile appeared on your lips from your observation. Your hands smoothed down the front of your dress, a habit you tended to make when you felt self-conscious, as your senses were in overdrive and you could feel the eyes on you. 

Nobody came up to you, though, so people were just staring… the music boomed through your ears as it almost made your body shake from how loud it was. 

A sigh poured out of your lips as you had decided to call it. Your friend could stay, she was probably having a blast. 

Signing the receipt and picking up your card from the counter, you placed it in your purse while beginning to get up to get out. The room was getting smaller by the minute, the sea of people confiding you in a miniscule space that was unwanted. The breathing from your nose had gotten heavy with the proximity of everyone around you singing at the top of their lungs. 

You wanted to gasp out of desperation, but you couldn’t. You tried to make your way through the crowd, the dress you wore clinging tighter to you than ever before. Have you been sweating? Has it been that hot? A hand ran through your hair to let some loose waves cascade around you making a curtain of your face until you felt a warm sensation caused by some fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

The ringing in your ears was so loud that you gasped and turned around to see who it was. 

“¿Pequeñita?” 

You swore your heart stopped in that split second from hearing him call you by the term he chose. Your words failed you as you could only look at him and how much he changed. A buzzcut had replaced his luscious curls making him look older than usual, though the glistening in his eye was still there. He was just as shocked toward you as you were toward him. 

Had it been worth it? A thousand times yes. A thousand times to see his chestnut eyes staring back at you. You gulped, swallowing some saliva as you slowly nodded your head toward the man that had caused all your sorrows. 

A deer caught in the headlights as he took a step toward you while sinking his head down to your level and resting his lips on your temple, “Lo siento.” His words are sincere, serene, and a broken promise that he had never made to you. 

The simple action made you weak in the knees, but you stood a little straight with your head held as high as you could, taking a step back from him. 

Six years poofed in a nanosecond. 

Another hand ran through your hair as you gave a nod toward the door signaling that you wanted to go outside, away from all the noise, away from peering and curious eyes. It was now or never. It was now that you decided you were going to get your answers. 

Your feet carried you to the outside as you took your shoes off to sink your feet into the sand. You could tell he followed. Turning around and facing him, you breathed him in, noticing that he was the same, yet different. 

“What are you doing here?” He dared ask you. 

“No. Oh no, no, no, no.” You stated in a whisper through your gritted teeth, “No you don’t.” 

You swallowed the tequila in your breath once again, “Just. Why?” A silent plea was heard through the words you chose to speak to him. How quickly the thoughts had dismantled from your brain as you could only stare at him waiting for an answer. 

“Peque–”

“Don’t call me that.” You spat. 

His features hardened as he locked his jaw in place. How did he think that was okay? Had he not noticed the past six years without you?

“Soy un cobarde. (I’m a coward.)” He said, bowing his head in defeat and speaking again, “ I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I couldn’t be the man you wanted me to be. How could you not think about what I wanted?” The words weren’t accusatory, they were questions that he had never been able to answer himself either. They cut you like a knife trying to split your heart in half.. He had been just as lost as you were… 

“How could you not think about what we wanted Garcia? Or did you miss the part where I was involved in the relationship too?” You spoke with heated words taking a step closer to him to read his expression. He hadn’t changed after all of these years, he was still the same Mickey that you knew in school, the same Mickey that dreamed of risking it all. 

He looked away, maybe he felt ashamed, “I just. I just wanted… I just…” 

“Just what?” Another plea, more like a cry. All you wanted was the answer. 

“I loved you too much to put you through it all.. To put you through this.” He waved his arms around signaling his job, his profession, his duty to his country. 

Loved. A past tense. 

“So leaving was the answer? Leaving me there waiting for you like a fool? Who looked foolish there, tonto? It certainly wasn’t you. ” You said as tears began to sting your eyes. 

“I couldn’t face you with the decision I made.” His words were soft as he finally looked in your direction and took another step to get closer. “If you’d only allowed me in…” You trailed off. He always kept the things he kept dear close to his heart and that meant shutting you out throughout the years you spent together. Mickey Garcia didn’t speak much on emotions and how he felt about things. You tried, but he kept distancing himself in other ways. 

The pilot looked like a boy right now as he took another step tentatively toward you while you could only focus on his beautiful face… the years of remorse, the years of silence from both ends. You wanted to reach out and touch his olive skin, but refrained not knowing what he would do. 

The pilot took another step toward you causing you to get a sniff of his scent, making you feel so dizzy that you had to take a deep breath or else you were sure you were going to pass out. “You left without saying a word.” Your words rang with the pain you had felt. 

“I wanted to say something after it all happened… but it was too late, I know it was.” The next movement surprised you as his fingers traced the apple of your cheek, your breath caught in your throat not being able to look away from his pretty eyes. 

Just as he looked down at your lips a countdown could be heard… 5, 4, 3, 2… “...It wasn’t.” You blurted out before you stopped yourself. 

A soft caress of his fingers on your face and you were putty in his hands. 

Nothing had changed. 

The pilot glanced down at your lips …1… 

You tilted your face for easier access to his lips as you felt his breath fanning yours for a split second before he crashed his lips onto yours. The state of shock that your body had melted away with his simple touch. 

Oh what those lips could do and how you remembered in a flash. 

He was sweet and honey combined in ways that you had forgotten, he was silk. He was euphoric and ecstasy.     

He was Mickey goddamn Garcia. 

[lazypeachsoul]

Are you a good girl?

Summary: First meetings are important, but what happens when Fanboy forgets to actually tell you before hand? 

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" García x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k (whoops)

Rating: No warnings, except maybe a bit cringe worthy.

A/N: It's been a while since I've written something and it's the first time I've ever written for Top Gun, so please be gentle. Also, this is completely inspired by an episode of Grey's Anatomy Oh, and english isn't my first language so be warned.

Few things could make the sweltering San Diego heat better for the troops stationed at MCAS Miramar base, and one of them was the Annual Miramar Air Show. For the US Armed forces it provided a chance to bring the Navy closer to the civilians, but for most of the troops there stationed it was the best occasion to receive their families in their workplace without the higher ups grumbling about loss of time. An open doors day of sorts. 

And this occasion proved even more important for the naval aviators who could show said families how incredibly cool their jobs were – and show off their elite skills–. The Dagger Squad had been talking and planning about this occasion since the days were announced. And the evening before the exhibition was not going to be different. The Hard Deck was buzzing with conversations about the upcoming weekend of uninhibited air time and family visits. Sitting around the pool table –for once not competing against each other for a win– aviators exchanged attendance lists.

“My mother is arriving just in time for the first show. She 's been talking my ear off about not wanting to miss anything.” Coyote explained before taking a swig of his beer. “I think she just wants to snoop around the base for a bit.”

Laughs could be heard all around the table, the air relaxed and happy. Conversations about family were usually scarce, not because of a lack of love but of understanding that in difficult situations the thought of loved ones can break your heart more than mend it. Especially in the presence of people who suffered loss because of this job like Rooster. But the Airshow was the moment when those conversations could occur without fear. 

“What about you Fanboy? Your girl is coming, right?” Payback asked his partner who was playing with the sticker of his beer bottle.

“Yeah, she’s pretty excited too. Said she wants to see Phoenix fly, something about her being the best pilot on the squad.”

A confident I am was spoken before laughter turned into playful groans of disagreement. Mickey’s girl had spent evenings in The Hard Deck with the pilots to the point of becoming almost an honorary member of the squad, so her opinions about their abilities raised more playfulness than bad blood. Although Payback’s face of betrayal was very convincing. 

“My mother and grandmother are coming too. First time visiting me on base.” Mickey spoke bashfully. His excitement was difficult to contain at the thought of showing the women who had raised him, and supported him when he joined the Navy, how his hard work paid off. “They don’t want to miss any of the demos either.”

“That 's great! Now I get to show off to Abuela García instead of your girl since she prefers other pilots.” Payback joked and both men raised their beers as kind of a promise to fly their best. “Speaking of, is she excited to finally meet your family? You’ve been dating for a while, took you long enough to introduce them…” 

The words died in the pilot's mouth when he saw his WSO’s face fall. And the same reaction could be seen all around the table, small conversations stopping to look at Fanboy’s face for an answer. The entire squad knew how important those three women were for their team mate –and being as close as they were to Mickey’s girlfriend they also knew how important it was for her–, so their interest in the situation was high. 

“Shit, Mickey” And when no callsign was used the importance of the situation really dawned. “You haven’t told your girlfriend?”

And fuck, Mickey knew there was something he was missing. He really wished he could blame work or the stress of preparing the airshow, but the truth was that it really had just escaped his mind in between all the excitement. Nothing would go wrong, right? 

The next morning was an early one for the Dagger Squad, and out of solidarity with your boyfriend Mickey you woke up just as early to make him breakfast and show him all your support. What you didn’t expect is to be on the receiving end of all his affections. It started with a good morning kiss that left you breathless followed by cuddles while you tried to brush your teeth and wash your face. You weren’t about to complain, because if there was one thing in this world that you really loved was any moment spent next to him, but it made some part of your brain light up with curiosity. 

Still thinking -maybe overthinking– about his weird behavior you walked into the kitchen to find the star of the day pushing a mug full of coffee in your direction. Maybe the nerves of the show were making him antsy and he needed to clear his mind, and that’s why he took over all the acts of service possible in the world. Your internal monologue was interrupted when he placed the mug in your hands and more or less crashed into you in a mess of kisses and good mornings. 

“M-Mickey…Baby, careful.” You murmured against his lips with a smile on your face.

“I’m trying but you just look so good I need to keep you close.” He mumbled against your cheek, before pushing back a little to drink from his own cup. 

You lifted the coffee mug to your lips when something caught your attention. In your hand was his Star Trek mug. And for anyone who didn’t wake up next to Mickey everyday it would just be a nod to his callsign, but you knew the deeper story. Because when you had made breakfast for the first time for Mickey you used that mug for your coffee and he had to bashfully explain that it was his good luck mug and that you could use it but you should be super careful because, you know, it was very important. And ever since that mug had remained a ritual before big missions or events. So why wasn’t he using it for himself if he’s the one supposed to fly? 

“Everything good, my love?” He asked nervously with a tiny smile behind his mug. See Miguel García was a lot of things –a great boyfriend, even better son and grandson, one of the best WSOs ever seen…– but above all he was smiley. Worthy of a toothpaste commercial smiley. So when you saw that his smile didn’t reach his eyes you knew. 

“Good luck mug. Why would I need good luck, Mickey?” You drank a big gulp, searching for the energy you would need for whatever was coming your way.

“Yeah…uh… luck is always good.” He tried to explain but your poor boyfriend could never find it in his heart to lie. “I might have forgotten to tell you something kind of important.”

Okay, maybe not the conversation you might want to have at 7:00 am on a saturday on your first cup of coffee but if it was important you couldn’t say no. Mickey’s face looked worried and that worried you. Was something wrong at work? Is he feeling sick? Has something important happened? In the middle of coming up with your thousands of theories the doorbell rang. And the way your boyfriends face fell you knew whatever he forgot to tell you was behind that door. 

Moving out of the kitchen and into the foyer you took a peek through the peephole to find the same two women whose picture rested in your living room. No way. No way you were about to meet the two most important women of your boyfriend's life while wearing your ratty house clothes and disheveled hair. You turned to look at the door of the kitchen and you saw his head peeking out, looking back at you with the biggest case of puppy eyes ever seen. He was mouthing something that looked like ‘sorry’ and ‘i love you’, but you just couldn’t process it at that moment. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror you tried to smooth your hair and the wrinkles on your t-shirt, but quickly abandoned it when you realized that’s the best you would do. Meanwhile, Mickey had moved towards your position and smiled encouragingly at you in the mirror before kissing the back of your head lovingly and turning towards the door. Taking a deep breath you turned towards the door with the biggest smile you could muster.

“¡Mamá! ¡Abuela!” Your boyfriend exclaimed before throwing himself towards the two women. And just hearing the love in his voice made you almost forget the complicated situation he left you in. “Pasen. Give me your bags, they must be heavy.” 

Being a spectator to this reunion you felt out of place, not really knowing how to react. At the end you decided to just move aside to allow the two women to enter the house, although they were too busy squishing your boyfriend's face and fussing over him. Slowly the three of them made their way inside and that’s when Mickey held your hand before speaking at the two women. They looked at you almost expectantly, knowing who you were but waiting for the official introduction. Probably the same way you were looking at them, although you could see something deeper in Abuela’s eyes. 

“Ma, Abuela. I want you to meet my girlfriend-” 

His introduction was cut short when Abuela stepped forward and held your cheeks with a soft grip. Your breath caught in your face at the unexpected move and looking at the other two García you didn’t know if you should relax or be even more scared. 

“Nice to meet you ma’am-” 

“Are you a good girl?” Out of all the things you would have expected, that wasn't on the list.

“I-am I- What?” 

“A good girl. I don’t mean perfect, I mean relatively speaking. Are you?”

“Yes.” You answered with probably too much emphasis but nothing could have prepared you for this conversation.

“How many sexual partners have you had?” And it was that question that seemed to snap your boyfriend out of his stupor because he seemed to choke on air and took a step towards you.

“Abuela-” But it was quickly shushed by the older woman.

“Um…six. No, seven.” You replied meekly. It was too early for this and you didn’t have the clearest mind since you hadn’t even drunk your coffee. “Kind of six..kind of seven.” 

You could feel your skin get hotter by the minute because even if deep down you knew your answer wasn’t bad and Abuela had said she wouldn’t judge, what if she did? What if she didn’t approve? Jesus, she was going to hate you.

“Criminal record?” She asked with a face that rivaled that of any Admiral in Miramar and a beautiful accent that you were kind of sad her grandson didn’t share. 

“Speeding ticket.” Why were you more scared to lie to this woman than to the police itself?

“How fast?”

“12 miles over.” You answered and you realized that if you hadn’t messed up with the previous question you definitely messed up when she gasped and her hands fell from your face.

“That 's fast!” Damn it, not a good answer.

“It wasn’t too fast.” You started but seeing the woman’s serious face you cracked. “It was way too fast. I’m sorry. But I was in a rush because Mickey had told me he needed me and I thought something happened.” 

You rambled your explanation trying to look at your boyfriend to silently ask for help. But he only answered your silent pleas with a forced smile and a small shrug. Coward. Meanwhile, Mickey’s mother looked at you with a genuine smile which was unexpected seeing as you thought you were over in their eyes. 

“Well, I don’t suppose you could tell me where I can leave my jacket, can you? It’s been a long trip, mija.” 

Even if you wanted to be shocked at the change in her voice you jumped into the opportunity to leave the foyer where the entire interrogation had taken place. You took their bags that had been discarded on the floor and showed them the house, leaving them contemplating the living room with your boyfriend with the excuse of needing to change for the airshow. 

You were in the middle of putting on your blouse when the door to the bedroom opened and the man of the hour appeared. He closed the door almost all the way and tried to walk you way before he was hit in the face with the t-shirt of your pajamas. 

“You didn’t just let me embarrass myself like that.” You whisper-yelled to avoid your guests hearing you tearing their darling boy a new one. 

“Mi amor. Beautiful. You know how much I love you.” He spoke huskly while walking closer to your position. And damn him for knowing you so well and for knowing how you reacted to that voice. “I promise I didn’t want to frame you. It slipped my mind with all the excitement. I’m sorry.”

He wrapped his arms around you once he made sure you wouldn’t push him away and you were grateful the height difference allowed you to rest your face against his chest. He rocked you slowly whispering sweet nothings and you couldn’t help but start to melt into his touch.

“They hate me.” You spoke muffled by his t-shirt. “She hates me.”

He chuckled and squeezed a bit harder. “She doesn’t hate you. Trust me she would have let you know if she hated you.” His chin rested on top of your head and you could hear his words reverberate in his chest. “Also, you looked really cute being interrogated. Like a deer in the headlights.” 

His laugh reverberated even stronger than his voice and you smiled against him before you pinched his side. He groaned and pushed back, but now it was your moment to laugh and squeeze him. “And you looked like a coward. What kind of man doesn’t defend his girlfriend when she’s being interrogated?”

“The one who got on his grandmother’s bad side once and has no intention of ever doing it again.”

The airshow went as good as anyone could have expected. The weather couldn’t have been nicer and the crowds of visitors went wild when they saw all the performers. Having finished their turn and after clocking out for the day, the Dagger Squad made their way towards the camping spot where their families were waiting for them. Payback and Fanboy walked side by side talking about their performance and how cool they looked up there when the picnics came into view. 

Payback could see the very familiar face of his backseater’s girlfriend sitting on one of the picnic tables talking animatedly with two older women who looked too much like Fanboy to not be related. He gently slapped the younger man’s chest and discreetly pointed at the image. 

“I guess it went well even without a warning.” Payback spoke jokingly, the good relations between the women obvious.

“It went…well. Not a single bump or problem.” Fanboy confirmed way too sure of himself, which in reality only showed his pilot that something had indeed happened. 

“If I ask her, will she say the same?”

“Nope.”

Payback’s chuckle could be heard from the tables now that they were closer because you raised your head to look for the owner of the contagious laugh. Once you saw the pair walking your way you smiled at them, leaving Fanboy almost without breath at the image. 

“You don’t deserve her man. I would leave you sleeping on the couch for a month after that stunt.”

“I really don’t.” He exclaimed, patting his friend on the shoulder as a goodbye before jogging the rest of the way to your table. Eager to spend the rest of his day –and weekend– with his girls.

[sometimes-i-write-good]

¿Quieres bailar conmigo?

Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x gn!pilotreader [no use of y/n]

2.6k || Fanboy comes home from leave a day early to surprise you, but you surprise him instead.

===

Genre: fluff

CW: overload of charisma

Author's Note: Fanboy is my favorite Top Gun: Maverick character and I’ve already read everything in existence about him, so I have to take matters into my own hands. || cross-posted on ao3

===

===

The first thing Mickey heard when he turned the lock to your shared apartment was a breakup song playing loudly. Punctuated by your passionate cries. In some form of a miracle, you managed to miss every note, which Fanboy took as a sign that your heart was not truly broken and José José merely possessed you with the urge to put on the performance of a lifetime.

He slipped quietly into the flat. Taking his time to unlace his shoes, set down his bag, and softly clicked the door shut behind him. You were not alerted in the slightest. Too busy in the kitchen stirring and shouting, “Qué triste luce todo sin ti. Los mares de las playas se van.”

Every other line you would spin, working your feet through a quick box step with the occasional fling of your spoon when the emotion built. “Se tiñen los colores de gris. Hoy todo es soledad.” you stepped backwards, closer and closer to Mickey with your hips swaying in a way that made his uniform fit a bit too tight.

“Media naranja…” he let his voice trail off, soft enough for you to hear him. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt the moment with a spike of adrenaline. He’d tried his best, but he never was good at subtlety when it came to you.

“Holy fuck!” You let out a startled scream, hand coming up to clutch at your heaving chest. “Mickey, I thought I asked you to stop doing that.”

“Aw, mi vida,” he laughed, stepping closer to grab you by the hips and pull you close to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stick your bottom lip out at him in a pout. Far enough out that he can’t help the way his gaze lingers on it. “Don’t think you can kiss it better,” you tell him.

Fanboy hums. He brings a hand up to trail the back of his index finger down your cheek so that he can tilt your chin up a bit further. “Can’t I?” It’s fun to watch your reaction to the question, feeling the slightest strain against his fingers and you try to move closer to kiss him.

“Mickey,” you whine.

He closes the gap between you. “Mi cielo.” His voice is low, raspy. All his attempted teasing seems to take more out of him than you and he’d been away for far too long to let his moment draw out any longer. Fanboy cupped your cheek then pressed his lips against yours, filling in all the passion he’d left you without while he was away.

The last kiss he gave you before he’d left was quick. A domestic kind of peck married couples gave one another as they ran out the door for work. In a way, Mickey had convinced himself on the plane to Virginia Beach, that is exactly who the two of you were. You’d been together so long that being moved around from base to base wasn’t the heartbreaking news that it had once been but rather a fact of life the two of you had to live with. Still, it didn’t excuse the way Fanboy had let his own being late impact the last memory of him you were left with before he’d walked out the door. It was something he fully planned to make up for today.

His tongue ran over your bottom lip greedily. Mickey could, and had, memorized every corner of your mouth and it would never be enough to truly satiate him. The moment your lips parted for him Fanboy jumped on the opportunity to run his tongue along the side of yours. He moved with a confidence you had only ever been able to bring out of him.

You hum in satisfaction, fingers going to hook in the belt loops of his uniform. Sure of yourself. A goddess in control of his futile sense of humanity. Freedom and a prison all in one. There could be worse fates than being locked onto your lips for all eternity. Some Fanboy didn’t care enough to explore. Not when he had your body pressed against him and his lips bruised by the shape of yours.

“Mi cielo.” Mickey murmurs against your lips when he goes to take a breath. A kiss pressed to each of the corners of your mouth. “You have no clue what you do to me.” And then, as though you knew full well what you did to him, you slid your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to your lips once again.

You’re the one to pull away after a few more blissful moments of kissing. Mickey expected you to be. Yet he still had to take a moment, pressing his forehead to yours, hand cupped around your cheek, with his eyes closed. If he had the choice, the two of you would be in the bedroom right now but you had been in the middle of cooking, and he was hard pressed to pull you away from a task once you’d begun. “I love you.”

Mickey doesn’t need to open his eyes to know there was a goofy grin on your face. “I love you more, darling.” The words brought a heat up the back of his neck, settling on his ears. Years into this relationship and you still could fluster him. Mickey opened his eyes, pressed one more swift kiss to your lips, then leaned back to look at you.

For a moment it felt like the two of you were plunged back into the moment of your first kiss. Two kids in love staring at one another with smiles of disbelief. Fanboy knew a part of him would always be stuck in that feeling whenever the two of you kissed. There was no conceivable explanation for how he got so lucky to be able to kiss you whenever he pleased. To be able to call you his everything.

“Mi vida, when I came in… is that really how you’d react in the case of an intruder?” He asked quietly in a poor attempt to cover a soft laugh. “Scream your head off first, figure out a way to fight later?”

You roll your eyes at him and, even in your moments of playful aggravation, Mickey can’t help the way his pulse quickens. He uses his thumb to trace hearts on your waist. A way

“I’m a pilot, mi sol. There’s a reason I do all my fighting in the air.”

“I can teach you to fight.” When you laugh, he pulls you tight to him. “I’m serious. It’s easy, mi vida, a lot like dancing.”

“I’m a horrid dancer,” you tell him. Mickey shakes his head. You have the tendency to be overtly hard on yourself, but he’d seen you when he had walked through that door. Stunning, if a little out of practice. He knew that if he were to tell you that you’d only dismiss the idea entirely claiming that he thought everything you did was stunning and, while you wouldn’t exactly be wrong, he didn’t want you to shy away from his next offer, “Dance with me?”

“Right now? I’ve got dinner on the stove.”

In a swift series of steps, Mickey had you clinging onto him so that he could position the pair of you right in front of the stove. He turned off the stove with a self-satisfied smile. For every excuse you’d planned to make, Mickey had already compiled a thousand reasons why not to worry. It’s how the two of you had always been. Fanboy had lived up to his callsign in more ways than one. He followed you everywhere fixing one problem or the next, easing your fears without you having to so much as ask. A love language, people would call it, but Mickey must have been the only person on earth who could speak it.

“You’re insufferable.” Your words make him grin. The radio starts up with a new song. “Tú” by Los Elegantes de Jerez, one of his favorites to request at the Hard Deck when Penny had live bands instead of just letting the jukebox play the same music over and over each night. He’d yet to convince you to come out and dance with him, but Phoenix was always willing. Otherwise he was more than content to dance on his own, throwing out flirtatious remarks to try and persuade you to join him.

He steps back just enough to take you all in. You let out a confused laugh.  “What?”

“¿Quieres bailar conmigo?”

“Mickey…”

“¿Quieres bailar conmigo, mi cielo?” He asks again with a bit more seriousness behind it and, when you don’t jump on the opportunity he adds, “Cocodrilo que duerme es cartera.”

“Fine, Mick. I’ll dance with-” You’re cut off with a squeak as Fanboy pulls you close. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, hand resting at the small of your back, and placed his left knee so that it rested against the inside of your right knee. It isn’t nearly as close as Mickey would like to be. He longed to crack open his chest and allow you to crawl inside to take residence in his heart so that the two of you physically portrayed Fanboy’s constant state of existence.

He brought his other arm up with your hand in his and waited patiently as you wrapped your arm around his neck. “Rest your weight into your hips.” He drags his gaze over your face, watching you calculate the right way to stand. Your analytical nature made him fall in love with you. The way your tongue would drag along your lips in deep concentration. It made it hard for him to remember what the hell he was saying in the first place. “The norteño means we have to keep our torsos connected.”

You settled your weight, pressing against him, and Mickey’s breath left him in a nervous exhale. “Not so confident anymore are we, Fanboy?” You laugh, and he ducked down slightly to press a kiss to the hollow beneath your ear.

“You make me crazy,” he said and started moving without giving you a warning. If he had told you to concentrate on the tempo you were bound to overthink and start lifting your feet instead of shuffling in wide arcs wherever Mickey led you. Once he was sure you weren’t going to stop him to start counting the beats he added, “we’re going to to step and swing our hips on each beat.”

Growing up his mother used to tell him how important it was to know how to dance. That it was the easiest way to find your other half that way. A perfect complement. Each move followed his lead. Right and then left. Two halves of a whole collapsed in an embrace Mickey never wanted to free himself from.

“Tú, solamente tú,” he sang into your ear with the fondness of someone discovering affection for the first time. A soulmate connected by the chorus of a song. “No necesito de nadie. Ni puedo dejar de mirarte.” You pressed against him, biting down roughly on your lip, and he could see the tender concentration as you counted in your head. “Hey,” he said, “eyes on me.”

Only, when you lifted your gaze to him, Mickey captured your lips in a tender kiss not once breaking step. These movements were second nature. Natural as ducking and dodging during a dogfight. He knew exactly where to let his smooth movements whirl him next. If he weren’t feeling so selfish, he might have included a spin just to hear your laughter. A sound as weightless as the way you moved against him. Mickey did not miss the way you playfully ground against him with each sway of your hips. The innocent confusion on your face while you watched his breath hitch. His hand stayed pressed to the small of your back. Drew you closer on each beat. Your hand on the base of his neck twirled the hair that needed to be cut before he went back. The gesture made him weak in the knees.

The song had finished minutes ago, but the two of you were still moving. He had been caught in the trance of your everything. Your smile, pulled back with mischievous joy; your eyes, how they lingered on his lips as he sang along; and your hands, how they clung to him even though he had no plans on letting you stray away from him during your dance.

He wanted to twirl the two of you out of this apartment. Take you to the Hard Deck. He wanted to call everyone on the Dagger Crew to the bar. Hell, he’d call anyone in off the streets to watch the two of you dance. Show everyone that you were his. Only he could draw this dreamy smile out of you. Only he could pull you out of your own head. Only he could love you like this.

You leaned forward to kiss him. “Thanks, darling. Can I finish dinner?” He relented. You, with great difficulty, managed to take a step back. Only to come back and kiss him with a ferocity that parted his lips almost immediately.

A different kind of dance began. Your tongue in his mouth, searching desperately for the words he had sung earlier. All you could pull out of him were gentle groans of pleasure. Mickey’s hands gripped at your waist. You were entirely in control. Each step forward led him backwards until he was pressed up against the counter.

Abandoning your hips, Fanboy moved his hands up to your hair. He had always learned in moments like this to let you believe that you could bring him to his knees. That thought might hold more truth to it that he cared to admit. But he could always slide his hands down to cup your face. Your weakness. He would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more room to slip his tongue into your mouth, and expose your neck enough for him to trail kisses downwards. So that when he did get onto his knees for you it was entirely of his own violation.

You noticed the change. You noticed everything when you cared to. “Mickey.” Your voice was muffled by his tongue tracing the shape of your bottom lip. “Mickey.” Once more he captured his own name and you had to pull away to say, “I have to make dinner.”

He sighed. “Do you?”

“Yes, I’m hungry.”

With one final peck he watched as you made your way back over to the stove. “I’ll have to make something more. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

There was no hint of annoyance in your voice. Fanboy could see you bite back a smile. He longed to turn you around to kiss you, but instead let you turn on the gas and stir the soup you’d been making humming José José.

“You do realize ‘El Triste’ is a breakup song, mi amor?” Mickey said, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you flush against him as you stirred the soup on the stove.

“When you’re gone I like to pretend I’m heartbroken.”

“And when I’m home?” He pressed a soft kiss to your neck. “What do you like to pretend when I’m holding you like this?”

He could feel the sigh work its way out of your chest. You flicked off the gas once more. “I like to pretend that we’ll get a chance to eat dinner, but…”

Mickey laughed. “But?”

“But,” you said, “I think we’re ordering in tonight.”

“Are we now?” You spin around to wrap your arms around his neck, grinding up against him, and pulling away with a smug smile. “Oh, mi ciela, vamos a bailar.”

[wildbornsiren]

12 days of Fluffmas!: Hot Chocolate || Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia/F!Reader

Day 7: Hot Chocolate. 

Summary: Mickey makes you a treat. 

561 words Female/AFAB reader

Warnings: None. Fluff. 

Summary: Day seven of the 12 days of Fluffmas!  Comments and reblogs fuel my writing, likes are appreciated. Thank you so much for reading, it’s appreciated and means the most.  

 **Tag list is done, please follow and turn on notifs for @wbslibrary​ **

Sundays were reserved for pajamas and being lazy. It was your favorite part of the week, curled up with Mickey on the couch, sharing a blanket and watching movies. Sometimes you’d get lost in books, only to emerge hours later to have food, or share what you’ve read. Today, you’re curled up on one end of the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, a blanket pulled up to your chin. Mickey’s head is resting in your lap, and his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. The two of you decided on the classic children’s Christmas movies. As the credits for ‘Frosty the Snowman’ play, he sits up.

“Your turn to pick the next one.” Mickey guides your face toward his with a gentle touch of fingers under your chin. He kisses you softly, once, before getting to his feet and doing it again. “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate and get some of those cookies Bob’s girlfriend gave us.”

You scroll through the options, settling on what you know is the best version of A Christmas Carol, the Muppets version of course, when you hear the clatter of pans, and Mickey cursing softly. You get up, wandering into the kitchen to find your boyfriend standing at the stove, pouring milk and heavy cream into a pan.

“Baby we have instant.” You go the cupboard pulling out a box of powdered mix.

“That. Is not hot chocolate.” Mickey looks up from the pot, eyes narrowed playfully.

“It’s what it says on the box.” You shake it in his direction, and he shakes his head.

“No, sweetheart, I’m going to make you the good stuff. The stuff my abuelita makes.”

“Is it a family secret?”

“It is shared with those we consider precious.” Mickey plunks three large hunks of chocolate from a yellow package into the warming milk.

“Precious huh?” You wrap around him from behind, and he leans back against you with a little sigh. “I love you too.” You hide your face between his shoulder blades, and you can feel him chuckle. It was a newer development in your relationship, and it still gave you butterflies to say how much he meant to you. Mickey had said it first, but never pressured you to say it in return—rather he accepted how you showed your love rather than saying it and spent time with him.

He heats the liquid slowly, letting it thicken, stirring constantly. It smells divine. Warm, with cinnamon and just a little bit of spice. He mixes sugar in, still stirring. “Grab two mugs, please my love.”

You hand over his favorite Star Trek mug, and your own favorite mug, watching as he ladles the hot chocolate into them. You grab a container of homemade whipped cream from the fridge and pass it to him.

“Good call.” He smiles at you, adding healthy scoops on top. “Try this first.” He offers you the spoon that he was stirring the mix with, his hand under it to catch any drops of hot chocolate that might spill.

“Wow,” you breathe when you taste the drink. “Mickey, this is wonderful.” It’s sweet, thick and there’s a hint of spice that lingers on your pallet. There’s a warmth that goes beyond the temperature and when you catch Mickey’s gaze, you can feel it there too.

/end

[rae-gar-targaryen]

Oh my GODDDD you writing for Mickey is literally a DREAM 😍😍😍This is absolute perfection!!!!!

100 different kisses #100 w/ Fanboy (bc we’re starved of Fanboy content and I love Danny Ramirez)

PROMPT: 100. 'it's always been you' kisses

please be gentle, this is not my thing in the slightest, so please be kind and let me know what you think? A series of moments with Mickey, in ficlet form.

thank you for this, darling heart @dhwanishah09 this is completely gratuitous because I cannot break away from Danny’s long hair so it’s on him. be kind to me, I’m branching a little too far out of my comfort zone xx

It starts innocuously. Predictably. 

A weekender to a Mexican beachside border town with friends with more beer and tequila than you know what to do with. A cute boy and some of his buddies skipping the border with 36 hours to burn, a holiday fling that changes the course of your life? 

Yes. 

You feel it before you know what it is. A warmth floods you and it feels like hands tenderly caressing your back, you turn to face... nothing. But the warmth remains. And then you look up and see him. See him looking back at you across the room while he sips his beer. He has an open smile, he knows you’re looking at him and you know you’re smiling as bold as he is.

Your heart is racing, your palms are clammy, and you know his must be too. Because the warmth that emanates from him you now feel it all over. He moves to you without hesitation and he knows that he’s never felt so confident. It’s not the alcohol, it’s not the idea of a cheap holiday fuck. 

It’s you. 

“I’m Mickey,” he smiled, his dark hair is cropped and his eyes are so open and genuine, they feel like home to you so many miles away from where you should be, as he offered you his calloused palm. His incredible grin widens across his clear features like he knew it but you just confirmed it for him. His teeth are perfect and momentarily distract you into an incoherent reply, you tried again, giving him your name. He laughs quietly as your friend gets between you and introduces you to him properly. Everything he ever needed to know. And lastly?

Single. 

You were so terribly embarrassed and he laughs, he likes that emotion on you and how it clouds your features. 

His friends thrust more shots before you and before you realise what’s happening, you’re making out with the fresh-faced Naval recruit much to the hooting and hollering of his friends in the middle of the dance floor of the beach-side bar. 

“Leave with me,” he pleads, nudging his head towards the water lapping the shoreline, your fingers linked with his. 

“Anywhere,” you told him. Anytime, any place, you want to add. This wasn’t you. You were cautious, thoughtful, a good girl who didn’t give it up to pretty boys on the pretence of going into war zones but as he leads you into the sand a little while away from the fanfare, you’re not scared. He’s gentle, considerate, and unexpectedly cheeky. 

Laying down in the sand and staring up at more stars than you’d seen in your entire lifetime, it’s not long before the conversation is forgotten and you’re kissing each other frenetically. That’s how strong the pull is, that you can’t stop and you don’t want to stop because as much as you could blame it on the alcohol, you were as sober as a judge, your body, heart and soul knowing that this was what would define you in years to come. 

You want to kiss him, you want to touch and do all those things you shouldn’t because you’re here with your friends and you’ve ditched them for this beautiful boy who maybe, just maybe, as enamoured by you as you are with him. When you roll to sit on his waist, his strong hands grip your hips and he asks if this is what you want.

And you willingly take everything he gives you. 

“‘I’m in town, I don’t even know where in the world you are’,” you say aloud as you type. You hadn’t seen him in so long. You’d never made anything official or serious, but you knew in time... “‘Miss you and hope you’re around for a drink between friends?’”

You know he’s probably not around, but when your phone lights up and says he ships out at dawn, you are already giving him your hotel details and running for the shower.

You meet his friends, his detachment, he called them. It seemed cold but they seemed harmless. He needs you to meet Payback.

“All this call sign business, Mickey,” you laugh softly. “Tell me what you’ve never told me before.”

He almost blushes as he sits on his stool, keeping you close as you preferred to stand between his knees, his hands tracing the seams of your underwear against your hip under your sundress. The one he took off you that night at the beach those years ago. His favourite, the one you’d only dare wear for him and the only one you’d want him to take off.

“Fanboy,” he admits as you giggle quietly.

“My darling nerd,” you say as he explains the ins and out of how he got his call sign and those of his friends around that he knew. 

“This is Reuben,” Mickey tells you as he keeps his arm around your waist. It means a lot for him to introduce you because he flies with Rueben and they are the perfect 1-2 jab. Rueben is kind and you understand why Mickey gets along with him so well. You figure out pretty quickly why Mickey thinks Hangman is a douche, why Rooster is misunderstood and Phoenix leads. 

He doesn’t let you go all night and when he walks you back to your hotel room well after last call in the early hours of the next day, he tells you he’s never been on a mission like this and he hopes one day he can see you again. You swear you’ve felt your heart stop and he buries his forehead in your shoulder all the while you beg yourself not to fall apart for this wonderful man before you. He doesn’t need that on the eve of something that is clearly terrifying him. 

“Can you stay?” you asked him, raising your eyes to his and yours searching the deep brown pools.

“I can’t stay long. I don’t want you to think that I’m here for a cheap fuck and then I leave,” he admitted, his eyes dropping.

“It’s never cheap, Mickey,” you tell him quietly as you turn your back to him and he sees the zip, the zip he’s downed so many nights before. 

“What do I have to do to get you to stay?” Mickey asked, his delicate fingers brushing the strap of your sundress off your shoulder and replacing his lips with it. “What do I have to say to stop us being a series of moments, muñequita, and being forever instead?”

“Tell me you love me again,” you teased as his lips traced to your wildly racing pulse and your fingers were lost to his wild curls. The curls you’d missed terribly. Growing slowly, flourishing delightfully. This man before you. 

“Mi vida... Eres tú. Siempre has sido tú,” Mickey whispered into your skin. “After all this time... there’s no one else. Don’t you get that?” 

“I love you, Mickey,” you told him, using your finger to drag him by the chin back to your face. He licked his lips, tenderly kissing you, reminding you that all along... 

“Quiero estar contigo... Mi corazón es tuyo. All these years, and I knew from the moment I saw you - no, felt you, that this was all I was ever gonna need. Say yes, be mine and let’s start the rest of our lives together before we waste more time.”  

“Yes,” you breathed, as he eased you back and kissed you. “Love me,” you say like a mantra and Mickey knows because he’s always known. Just like you. It’s always been you. 

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow and turn on notifications x Thank you for being so sweet to have a gander @almostgenerallyalways xx

[callsign-mayhem]

heartbreak feels so good (part 1)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 8081 CW: Shitty boyfriends, angst, fluff, slow burn.

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

Part Two Part Three

After another day of having your feelings totally ignored by your boyfriend, you were looking forward to some alone time. Elijah was so hot and cold that you felt as though you were in a constant state of fight or flight, just waiting for him to either make your day or ruin it completely. Most of the time, it was the latter, and although good days with him were few and far between, they were enough to make you stay. See, you didn’t half-ass anything—least of all relationships—so when you were in something, you were in it. You told Elijah that much after your first date. You’d been sitting in the front of his beemer eating ice cream, having the first of many deep talks. Between sweet, sticky kisses, you’d told him that you were dating to marry. He told you he was, too. 

He said, ‘I’m yours if you’ll have me, Y/N.’ And that was that.

And it was almost a year ago. You’d survived a somewhat tumultuous winter with him, desperately trying to cling on to the version of him he’d been during the summer. As time went on, he stopped putting his mask on, secure enough in your relationship that he no longer felt the need to pretend to be caring and considerate. The days were starting to get longer, and the weather was warming up again, but Elijah was so far from the man he was at the start that you might as well have been in a relationship with a different person. Every morning, you woke up with no idea what personality to expect that day, whether or not he was going to take all his personal drama out on you, even though you only ever loved and supported him. 

Today had been one of those days, and as you finished up with the F-18 engine currently in pieces in front of you, you silently prayed that he wouldn’t text you asking to come over. He was also a naval aviator, but you were working on different parts of the base today. Thank God. Elijah’s callsign was Viper, fitting since vipers prey on small animals by envenomating them and watching them die slowly. 

Coyote appeared behind you, helmet tucked underneath his arm.

‘Hey, we’re all heading to The Hard Deck for beers,’ he told you. ‘You comin’?’ You grabbed a rag and made an attempt to wipe some of the oil off. ‘I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘I want to, but then I’ll have to bring Elijah, and I don’t really wanna see him tonight.’ ‘Why do you have to bring him?’ Coyote frowned. ‘He’s a lousy drunk and never lets you have any fun.’ ‘If he finds out I went out with all you guys, he’ll think I’m up to something.’ ‘Like gettin’ with me?’ He joked, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Probably,’ you laughed. ‘You or one of the others. Or maybe he’ll accuse me of getting with all of you if he’s in a particularly bad mood.’ ‘Listen, if you wanna come, you’re welcome. We’ll just make sure nobody posts about it, and we’ll get you a fake moustache or somethin’.’

It broke your heart to think about all your closest friends having a fun night without you. Over the past year, you’d lost count of the amount of experiences you’d missed out on because you didn’t want to make Elijah upset or angry with you. The worst part was it was a double standard. He went out without you all the time, didn’t tell you where he’d gone or who he was with, and expected you to be okay with it. If you weren’t, you could kiss your peace goodbye; he’d spend the next week making your life a living hell, ignoring you entirely until you apologised to him for being hurt by his actions.

‘You know what Javy? Count me in.’ He grinned. ‘Thatta girl.’ 

It was hard to regret coming out when you felt this good. It had been months since you’d gone on a night out without Elijah, which was to say it had been months since you last enjoyed yourself. As you sipped your second sex on the beach, you mused that some kind of higher power must have been looking out for you because you’d yet to receive a single text from your boyfriend. Most of the time, when you spent the night apart, he’d call you incessantly. It was annoying, sometimes bordering on obsessive, and you didn’t need him to tell you he was checking on you, or rather, checking that you were alone in your apartment. That much was obvious. 

Dating an insecure man was not for the weak.

You were sat at one of the high tables next to the window watching Jake, Mickey, Javy, and Reuben play pool. Nat was opposite nursing a beer, glowing in the golden light of the evening. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, smiling at the notification. 

‘Rooster’s on his way,’ she told you. ‘He wasn’t gonna come out tonight, but I told him he didn’t have a choice. It’s not every day Y/N Y/L/N leaves the comfort of her apartment.’ You scoffed. ‘That’s not exactly how I’d put it.’ ‘No?’ Nat raised a brow. 

You hadn’t drunk in months, and despite only being on your second drink, the booze had loosened your lips significantly. 

‘No. It’s not that I’d rather stay home, it’s that staying home makes my life easier because then I don’t have Elijah breathing down my fucking neck.’

Little did you know, Javy had told everyone about your conversation earlier. Not because he was a gossip but because he was worried about you. It was rare for you to open up to the squad about your relationship, but it wasn’t hard to guess what happened behind closed doors. They all worked with Viper, for one, and they were familiar with his temperament. Not only that, but you dropped off the face of the Earth a few months after you started dating him, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

‘I don’t know why you’re still with him, Y/N. He’s an ass.’ ‘I know,’ you sighed, frowning into your drink. ‘It’s just not as straightforward as just leaving. I still love him. If I can make this work, I don’t have to start all over again with someone else.’ Nat nodded in understanding. ‘I get wanting to make it work, but at what cost? You don’t see your friends, and he uses you as an emotional punching bag. You can’t even come to the beach with us without him checking on you every five minutes,’ she reached over the table and took your hand. ‘He’s killing you.’

This was the first time someone had spoken their mind to you about the situation. While you already knew all of it, hearing it from one of your best friends hit home. Vodka made you emotional, and if not for Bradley, you would have broken down there and then. 

He walked up to the table and engulfed you in a hug, practically pulling you off your stool. You pressed your face into his shirt, inhaling the scent of clean cotton and sandalwood. Half expecting Elijah to spring out and catch you in the act, you reluctantly pulled away. 

‘Hey, Bradley.’ ‘Hey yourself, stranger. Can’t believe you’re gracing us with your presence.’ ‘I know, it’s been a while.’ ‘A while? Try six months,’ he glanced at your almost empty glass and Nat’s empty bottle of Heineken. ‘Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?’ ‘Do you even have to ask?’ Nat retorted.  ‘What’re you drinking, darlin’?’ He asked you. You smiled sheepishly. ‘Sex on the beach.’  ‘I can make that happen.’ He smirked.

Luckily, you didn’t have to come up with a response to that remark because he turned around and headed to the bar. You locked eyes with Nat, and both of you burst out laughing.

Just like that, all the negativity you’d been feeling dissipated like rain against hot tarmac. 

Bradley came back with the drinks, and the three of you took the opportunity to catch up while the others finished their pool game. You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were to find out that you’d missed a lot. Bradley had started dating one of the medics, but the relationship had crashed and burned almost immediately. He hadn’t bothered trying to meet anyone else since. Nat, after watching all her friends have such bad experiences in the dating world, had decided she was better off alone. 

‘Honestly, I don’t blame you.’ You told her. ‘You should dump Viper,’ she said with a devilish grin. ‘And we can have a hot girl summer.’ Bradley laughed. ‘Can’t say I ever imagined you saying that, Nix.’  ‘Isn’t that what it’s called now? We can’t be that out of touch, surely.’ ‘I don’t wanna think about how old I am.’ You said, picking up your phone to see if you’d missed any texts from Elijah. You hated to think what kind of argument missing one of his calls would start.  Nat and Rooster shared a knowing look. ‘It rings, you know? Out loud.’

Being this transparent was embarrassing. 

‘I think I’m going to confiscate this for now.’ Ignoring your protests, Bradley swiped your phone and tucked it into his pocket. ‘If he calls or texts, I’ll let you know.’

You were tipsy enough not to try and take your phone back but not tipsy enough to be unbothered by the idea of Elijah calling and you not picking up.

‘If he calls, I need it back straight away,’ you told him sternly. ‘If I don’t pick up, I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Bradley rolled his eyes, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He hated Elijah the most of all your friends. Perhaps sensing some tension, Nat slid off her stool and grabbed your arm, practically yanking you off yours.

‘Let’s go pick a song,’ she suggested. ‘We can get more drinks on the way back.’

Since it had been so long since you last visited The Hard Deck, she let you choose. You picked Rebel Yell by Billy Idol, your mum’s favourite. Admittedly, you’d been missing your home town a lot more than usual lately, perhaps because you were in such a weird place mentally. Things must be worse than you thought if you were considering running home with your tail between your legs. 

As the night went on, you got drunker and drunker. Bradley watched with a bemused grin as you dragged Bob off to the jukebox again, since he was the easiest person to coerce into doing things. How Bradley wished it was him you were clinging to. Not that he was jealous of Bob—because that would be like being jealous of a puppy—he just desperately wanted to be the object of your affection. 

While you and Bob went to change the music, Bradley struck up a conversation with Natasha and Reuben, who erupted into laughter when you pulled Bob’s arm so hard he almost toppled over. 

‘It’s nice to have Y/N out, huh?’ He observed. Nat looked at him like he was the biggest dickhead in the world. ‘Come on, Bradshaw. He might be an ass, but she’s got a boyfriend.’

Bradley sipped his beer, desperately trying to come up with a believable response. Reuben smirked knowingly, which only made Bradley more annoyed.

‘I don’t have a thing for Y/N.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.’ ‘Come on, Payback. You too?’ Reuben shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You look at her like she’s God’s gift.’

The reason Bradley looked at you like you were God’s gift is because you were, but nobody was supposed to know that. 

‘Why do women stay with guys that treat them like shit?’ Bradley asked. ‘Depends on the woman,’ Natasha started. ‘But if you mean Y/N, it’s because she can’t do anything halfway. She told me earlier that it’s because she doesn’t want to start over with someone new, but I don’t think that’s it. She just loves so hard, and it takes a lot out of her. Why would she wanna start the process all over again if she already has someone?’ Bradley was incredulous. ‘Erm, I don’t know, maybe because he’s emotionally abusing her.’

You and Nat were close. In a way, she knew you better than you knew yourself, so she was the best person for Bradley to ask about things. Now, however, he was kind of regretting opening his mouth. Knowing why you were staying with a guy who treated you so badly didn’t make it easier to accept like Bradley thought it would; it only filled him with white-hot rage. 

‘It’s not as easy as just leaving. She has to come to it on her own.’ ‘Yeah,’ Reuben chimed in. ‘You can’t convince Y/N of shit.’ Natasha scoffed. ‘Yup, and believe me, I’ve tried.’  ‘So what, we just sit around and watch him ruin her?’ ‘Y/N’s a smart cookie and one of the strongest people I know. She’ll come to her senses, and when she does, we’ll be here.’ ‘You know, I read somewhere once that you can’t save anyone. You can only hold their hand while they save themselves.’ Nat raised a brow. ‘Damn, Payback. That might be the wisest thing you’ve ever said.’ ‘Hey, why do you sound so surprised?’ ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Bradley had a lot to think about. Realistically, he knew there was nothing he could do. His only option was to let things unfold naturally and have faith that things would work out exactly the way they were supposed to. The only problem was, that sounded too much like ‘sit back and do nothing,’ which didn’t feel right either. 

Bradley needed another drink. 

In fact, he was just about to head to the bar when you came bounding over, dragging poor Bob behind you. 

‘Roooooooooster.’ You cooed.

His heart just about melted when you started batting your eyelashes at him. 

‘What’s up, Y/CS?’

Everyone else was watching the interaction expectantly, waiting to hear what you were going to say next. 

‘You’re really pretty.’ Bradley laughed, hoping you were too drunk to notice the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks. ‘Thank you. You’re really pretty, too.’ Nat, sensing the need to intervene, came around and gently grabbed your arm. ‘Hey, let’s get you a glass of water, huh?’ ‘But I need to tell Roo how pretty he looks.’

Bradley’s heart fluttered at your use of the pet name. He really didn’t want you to leave, but Nat was right. You needed some water and probably your bed. 

‘You told him already, Y/N. And when you get back, you can tell him again.’

She started leading you away, and Bradley immediately missed your presence. 

A very flushed-looking Bob took Nat’s empty stool. ‘That girl is somethin’ else.’ He murmured, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘I don’t think you should let her drink anymore.’ ‘I’m not her keeper,’ Bradley responded. ‘Can’t stop her from doing anything.’ Bob shrugged. ‘Maybe so, but you’re all she talked about. You and the fact that there’s no Fall Out Boy in the jukebox. Pretty sure she called it a ‘fucking tragedy.’’  Bradley leaned forward. ‘What did she say about me?’ ‘You know,’ Bob waved a hand dismissively. ‘You’re pretty. Her boyfriend is gonna kill her if he finds out she’s here with you because he thinks you have a thing for her.’ Bradley was at a loss for words. Reuben, however, was grinning like a fool. ‘What was that about not having a thing for her? Even her boyfriend’s caught on, man.’  ‘How many times do I have to say I do not have a thing for-’

An annoyingly loud ringing sound interrupted Bradley’s sentence. It didn’t sound like his ringtone, but the noise was coming from his pocket. It took him too long to remember that he had your phone in his pocket, and that it was probably Viper calling. Sure enough, when he took out your phone, he was greeted by a sickeningly sweet photo of you and your boyfriend on the beach. You and Nat were still at the bar, and he knew he should just let it ring so you could call him back later. 

But something had a hold of Bradley, and he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear before he could really process what he was doing. 

‘Y/N’s phone.’ 

A beat of silence, then some of the most colourful language Bradley had ever heard in his life. 

‘Who the fuck is this, and why the fuck have you got my girlfriend’s phone?’  ‘Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s at the bar with her friend, gettin’ another round of drinks, and I just know hearing your voice would ruin her night. It’s ruined mine, that’s for sure. If you want, I can take a message, and she’ll get back to you in the morning.’

Reuben was nearly on the floor, trying desperately not to laugh in case Viper heard him. Bob had paled significantly, like he’d seen a ghost—or worse. 

‘That you, Bradshaw? I just knew something was going on-’

Bradley hung up. The severity of the situation was beginning to hit, and despite the sick satisfaction he’d felt when he picked up the phone, he was regretting his decision already. 

‘Y/N is gonna kill you, Rooster.’ Bob told him. 

Nat made the sensible decision to cut you off, but she said you could stay out with them until closing if you promised to keep drinking water and stop fucking around with the jukebox. That was how you ended up in the corner of a booth with Bradley next to you to stop you from escaping.

Not that you’d want to escape. 

Mickey had joined, and the guys were playing cards while you and Nat talked. She was catching you up on her life, and it made a change to think about someone other than Elijah for once.

That’s when it hit you.

You hadn’t checked your phone in hours, and you dreaded to think how many texts and calls you’d missed. 

‘Bradley, can I have my phone?’

He set his hand of cards down on the table and reached into his pocket. When you reached out to take it, he pulled away.

‘Before I give this to you, I need to tell you something.’

A wave of nausea hit you. 

‘What? What’s going on?’ ‘Viper called about an hour ago. You were at the bar, and I didn’t know what to do, so I answered it.’ Reuben leaned forward in his seat. ‘Oh, this is about to be good.’

You thought you knew what panic felt like, but up until this very moment, you had no idea. Bradley was lucky you didn’t throw up in his lap from the nerves.

‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thinking-’

You snatched your phone from him, ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he was sporting. A slew of angry text messages that were borderline abusive greeted you. You skimmed them quickly, not wanting to read too many in case you started crying in front of the entire squad. 

What started out as the best night you’d had in a while quickly turned into the worst. Your boyfriend's hateful messages reminded you why you never went out and why this was the biggest mistake you could have made.

The worst part was you saw it coming.

‘Move,’ you said, grabbing your bag. ‘Bradley, let me out now.’ ‘You can’t drive like this, Y/N. Let one of us take you home.’

Bradley sounded destroyed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

‘Move.’

He nudged Bob, who stood up so Bradley could climb out of the booth. You were close behind him, and when your feet touched the floor, you nearly keeled over. Bradley reached out to steady you, but you shook him off.

‘Y/N. You can’t leave like this. How are you gonna get home?’

Ignoring his pleas, you made a beeline for the exit. Nat shoved Reuben into Mickey, trying to hurry them out of the booth so she could follow you, but you were surprisingly fast for a drunk person. Bradley was right about one thing: there was no way you could drive in this state. You ducked around the corner so Nat couldn’t see you and sank to the floor. Hot tears prickled behind your eyes as you did the one thing you didn’t want to do, but the only thing you could do.

You called Elijah. 

He didn’t answer the first, second, third, or fourth time. 

Half an hour passed, and you didn’t move. At one point, you heard Bradley, Nat, and Reuben talking around the corner, coming up with a plan for where to look for you. They knew you were on foot because your car was still in the lot, and since you’d disappeared so quickly, you couldn’t have gotten far. If the situation weren’t so tragic, it would’ve been funny that you were hiding ten paces away, and none of them could find you. 

It was getting very late. People were getting in their cars and leaving or jumping into Ubers. Soon, your Jeep would be the only car left. You couldn’t face the daggers, and you couldn’t drive home, so you picked yourself up and took a slow walk down the beach to where the water met the sand. 

What a beautiful night to have your heart broken. 

There was no way Elijah would ever forgive you for this, no way you’d ever be able to convince him that nothing had happened between you and Bradley. The sane part of you knew that it was crazy to feel guilty for simply enjoying a night out with your friends, but the sane part of you rarely won these days. The part of you that loved Elijah was always loudest and knew this could never have gone any other way. 

You were just about to resign yourself to calling a cab when you heard someone yelling your name from the top of the beach. 

You either had the best or worst luck in the world because it was Bradley. 

He made short work of the distance, giving you no time to come up with something to say. He looked otherworldly in the pale moonlight. His hair was slightly mused, and the same insane part of you that loved what it loved was whispering at you to run your fingers through it. 

‘We’ve been looking all over for you, Y/N.’ He sounded very concerned as he pulled out his phone and texted the others to let them know you were safe. ‘I’m sorry, I just needed to be alone.’

You hadn’t even realised you were shivering until Bradley draped his Levi jacket over your shoulders. 

‘You needed to be alone, or you needed to call Viper back?’ The tears threatened to make another appearance. ‘It’s none of your business.’ ‘What makes you think it’s not my business? I care about you and don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.’ ‘Then stop watching!’

Bradley recoiled, and you immediately felt awful. How Elijah spoke to you like that day in and day out without feeling guilty was a mystery to you. 

‘I’m sorry, Bradley,’ you sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around you. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just very drunk and very emotional right now.’

He softened immediately and seemed torn about whether he should let you stand there freezing or pull you close. You hoped he wouldn’t try to pull you close because you didn’t think you’d have the guts to tell him no. Good feelings had been so incredibly hard to come by as of late.

‘Why are you still with him, Y/N?’ Bradley asked almost pleadingly. 

Wow. He didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. 

‘That’s a loaded question.’ ‘I need you to explain it to me because it’s killing me.’

You thought about it for a moment, and Bradley waited with bated breath to hear what you had to say.

In the end, it was this: ‘I guess we accept the love we think we deserve.’ 

Until you said it out loud, this phrase held little meaning to you. Now that it was out in the open, it was very heavy. In the last few months you’d tried coming up with a decent explanation as to why you were staying with Elijah, and you fell short every time. Turns out all you needed to do was get drunk and have an honest conversation to figure it out. 

Coming to the realisation that what you’d just said was true felt like being in freefall. Everything in your life was changing shape to fit around this ugly truth. The good things in your heart shied away in the face of this monstrous fact. 

You didn’t think you deserved a healthy love. 

Somehow, Bradley was more hurt by this than when you’d snapped at him earlier. He was staring at the ground, unable to meet your eye like you’d just told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

‘You don’t think you deserve to be happy?’

Hearing him say it was somehow even worse.

‘Apparently not.’

You were both quiet for a moment, and then, for whatever reason, you laughed. 

‘This is news to me too.’

The waves crashed loudly, water lapping at your feet as the tide came in. You couldn’t stand out here having epiphanies all night. 

‘Listen, Rooster, I need to go home. I’m sorry for snapping.’ ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said quietly. ‘But we should talk tomorrow when you’re sober. Maybe we could get coffee.’ You shook your head. ‘After tonight, I don’t think that’s a smart idea. I’ll probably be spending tomorrow trying to salvage what’s left of my relationship.’ ‘You’re not serious.’ ‘I am.’

He opened his mouth to protest but then appeared to change his mind. You watched as all the fight he had left in him dissolved. There was nothing left for him to say, and he knew it. 

The irritating birds that constantly chirped right outside your bedroom window woke you up. It was too damn early, and your head felt as though it was splitting open. When you sat up, you were hit by a wave of nausea so strong that you had no other choice but to sprint to the bathroom, smashing into the corner of your chest of drawers on the way. 

Which was to say, it was a bad morning. 

After you had puked up the entire contents of your stomach, you jumped straight in the shower, brushed your teeth, and did your skincare. At least if Elijah showed up at your front door, you wouldn’t look like you got super drunk last night, even though he’d probably already guessed. 

When you checked your phone, there were still no notifications from him, and when you called, there was no answer. This wasn’t unlike him, but it had been almost twelve hours since Bradley picked up your phone, and you would have thought he’d have something to say by now. 

To distract yourself from your impending doom, you threw open all the windows in your apartment, made your bed, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher—all the usual morning tasks. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful Saturday, but you doubted you’d enjoy any of your hobbies when you were this anxious and hungover. 

With nothing else left to do, you set about making some breakfast. 

Just as you put your bagel in the toaster, somebody knocked on the door. 

Your stomach twisted itself into an impossibly tight knot. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move until whoever it was knocked a second time. 

You looked through the peephole, expecting to see Elijah standing there with his dark eyebrows knitted together in frustration. It was the only scenario that had crossed your mind, so when you saw Bradley standing there, you were very surprised. 

You took a deep breath and opened the door, greeted by the warm scent of sandalwood once again. 

‘Bradley?’

He was holding two iced lattes, which you were betting were vanilla—your favourite. Elijah hadn’t done that for you since the first week of your relationship.

‘Hey, Y/N. Thought you could use this.’

He wasn’t wrong. You ushered him inside, and he headed to the kitchen, where he 

perched himself on one of the stools at your kitchen island. This morning, he was sporting one of his more toned-down Hawaiian shirts and dark jeans. His eyelids drooped, and you wondered if he’d slept at all. 

‘I was just about to make bagels. Want one?’ ‘Sure, thank you.’

You busied yourself, putting bacon and eggs into a pan while he sipped his coffee. He eyed you with the curiosity of someone who had come over to check that you were all in one piece. Once he was satisfied that you were, he relaxed slightly. 

‘Thank you for bringing me home last night. I really appreciate it.’ You told him earnestly.  ‘You don’t need to thank me. You’d have done the same thing.’ ‘True, but still. And I’m sorry for snapping at you.’ 

Last night was gradually coming back to you in flashes, like a supercut. Each time you remembered a new detail, you cringed internally. 

‘You also don’t need to apologise. Has he called you?’ 

While the eggs and bacon were cooking, you toasted another bagel for Bradley and buttered yours. Even though you’d known him for years and been quite close until you got into a relationship, you were struggling to admit that you were pretty much being ghosted. It was already hard to walk around on base knowing that everybody was aware of how Elijah treated you. When you didn’t respond, Bradley took that as a no. 

‘Well, that’s his problem,’ he spat. ‘You did absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe if he were less of a control freak, you would have felt like you could tell him you were out with us rather than hiding it, and then he wouldn’t have found out the way he did.’

The toaster popped, and you jumped. It felt like somebody had run a cheese grater over your nerves. Bradley ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, clearly trying to reign in his anger.

‘I should apologise too,’ he continued. ‘I shouldn’t have answered your phone. It was a dick move, and I regretted it the instant I did it.’ 

You buttered the second bagel, put one egg on each of the bottom halves, and stacked two pieces of bacon on top before adding the top part. You didn’t say a word the entire time, and Bradley was starting to get antsy. 

‘Y/N. Please talk to me.’ ‘I don’t know what to say, Roo. I’m struggling even to think straight right now. He knows it drives me fucking crazy when he’s having a go at me and doesn’t respond. I don’t understand why he does it, knowing how it makes me feel.’ Bradley sighed. ‘Because he doesn’t give a shit how you feel. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than himself and how he feels.’ 

This wasn’t news to you, but again, it was more impactful to hear someone else say it out loud. Really, how long could you keep this up? Whether you thought you deserved it or not, you were starting to wonder if you might be better off alone than with someone who made living feel like walking next to a cliff with your eyes closed. 

You pushed Bradley’s plate across the counter and picked up your bagel. Eating felt impossible, but getting through the day with this headache would be excruciating if you didn’t at least try. 

‘Come and sit down,’ Bradley said. ‘It’s not good to eat standing up.’ Despite everything, you managed to laugh. And this time, it was a real laugh. ‘Why?’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t know. My mum used to say it all the time.’

You did as you were told, and you walked around the island, taking the seat next to him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, periodically taking sips of your coffees. This was how easy it should have been with Elijah. 

When you were both finished, Bradley put your plates, pan, and utensils into the dishwasher. You were too tired to tell him to stop. 

‘Thanks for breakfast.’  You smiled. ‘Thanks for being you.’

Bradley’s smile mirrored your own. Unsaid words hung in the air, but you didn’t know what to say. His leaving didn’t feel right, but if he stayed and Elijah made an appearance, he’d most definitely break up with you. 

But wasn’t this radio silence all the confirmation you needed that things were pretty much over, anyway? You were starting to wonder if this weekend had all happened exactly the way it was supposed to. Your eyes were indeed open, that was for sure. Of course, you’d known that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this weekend had really driven the point home. 

‘Do you wanna go for a walk along the beach?’ You asked, hopefully. ‘We could grab some ice cream at that little place next to the arcade.’

Bradley didn’t just look happy. He also looked relieved that you weren’t asking him to leave. 

‘I’d love to.’

It was a beautiful Spring day, perfect walking weather. Honestly, it was the last thing Bradley expected you to suggest, so he jumped on the idea before you could change your mind and send him home.

Because he really didn’t want to go home. 

He’d sensed that you didn’t want to talk about Viper, and you’d yet to bring up your conversation on the beach last night. Bradley was beginning to doubt that you even remembered everything you said—all that nonsense about not deserving a healthy love. Bradley didn’t take you as a liar, which meant you believed that you weren’t deserving of happiness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so sad and also angry at the same time. So many emotions were warring for the top spot in his heart, and as a result, his brain was incredibly foggy.

A walk along the beach with you was perhaps the only cure.

‘Did you hear about Hangman?’ Bradley assumed you hadn’t. ‘No?’ ‘He’s getting deployed. He’s leaving next month.’ ‘How long is he going for?’ ‘Six months.’ You whistled lowly. ‘Damn.’ ‘I know. I think he’s looking forward to it, though. I sure am.’ ‘You know, I don’t think you hate him half as much as you say.’ Bradley chuckled. ‘Maybe not, but being nice to him wouldn’t feel right. Even after everything that happened on the mission.’ 

The two of you walked down the beach, chit-chatting about anything that came to mind. You were about halfway to the ice cream place when your phone pinged. Bradley guessed it would be Viper, but he never could have guessed what the message said. 

It was a photo of you and Bradley walking down the beach, taken from behind. The picture had been forwarded to you from someone else. 

E<3: always knew you were a slut.

You inhaled sharply, obviously hurt by the words on the screen. Not two seconds later, he sent another text. 

E<3: PS: we’re fucking over.

The two of you had stopped walking. Bradley watched over your shoulder as you furiously typed a reply and deleted it again. You turned to face him, and his heart just about broke when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t need to say a word. He pulled you close to him, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You stayed that way for a while, sobbing into his Hawaiian shirt as he rubbed your back soothingly. When you eventually pulled away, the first thing you did was apologise. 

‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, sweet girl. He’s the one who should be sorry.’ You sniffled. ‘I don’t know what to reply.’ ‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘We can go get ice cream, take a slow walk back to yours. Then I’ll help you think of something.’ ‘I don’t know if I feel like ice cream anymore.’ ‘Well, that’s too bad because I do. Ice cream is the best remedy for heartbreak.’ ‘Did your mum tell you that too?’ ‘She sure did.’ 

It turns out Bradley was right about ice cream being the best remedy for heartbreak. The two of you sat on the wall, watching the waves while he munched on a mint chocolate chip cone and you butterscotch. It was hard to tell whether it was the best ice cream you’d ever had or if it was because you were with Bradley. If you remembered correctly, you’d had ice cream from this same place with Elijah before, and it hadn’t been this nice.

Thinking back on your memories with him only made you want to cry, so you did your best to shove them to the back of your mind. Despite the fact that he was actually a very shitty person, he’d been a dream at the beginning, and that didn’t just go away. The happy moments didn’t just suddenly turn to ash, as much as you wished they would. 

‘What are your plans for the rest of the night?’ Bradley asked around his ice cream cone. ‘I don’t know, Roo. I’m kinda working on a minute-to-minute basis right now.’ Bradley nodded. ‘Okay, well, what would you say to junk food run and a movie night?’ ‘With you?  ‘If you want to. I just don’t think it’s good for you to be alone.’ ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me.’ ‘Is that what you think this is?’ ‘No, but I don’t want to be a burden. Or a charity case.’ ‘Y/N, you’re none of those things. I always want to spend time with you. Just so happens I have a good excuse today.’ You frowned into your ice cream. ‘Okay. As long as you’re sure.’ 

The two of you finished your ice cream and took a slow walk back to your apartment. When you got in, the first thing you noticed was a framed photograph of you and your now ex-boyfriend on the side table in the hallway. When your bottom lip started trembling, Bradley picked up the photo, put it face down, and then proceeded to run around your apartment and take down any others. It didn’t feel like the same place you’d left a few hours ago. It was haunted by memories that would never look right in the light of day. Even the happiest ones from the start were tainted with the ugliness of his cruel words and actions. 

‘This place is so depressing.’ You grumbled.

Bradley stood in front of you with a stack of photos and one of Elijah’s t-shirts. 

‘It’s not. It’s your home, Y/N. We just have to pack away his stuff and put it all in a box.’ ‘An ex-boyfriend box.’ Bradley smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, exactly. It might be over, and he might be a dick, but it was still a big part of your life, and it’s important to keep the memories safe in case you wanna look back on them someday.’ ‘Or in case I wanna burn them.’ ‘That too.’ Bradley chuckled

So you helped him gather all the mementoes from your relationship and put them in an old Dr Martens box. It all looked pretty pathetic, packed away in a shoebox.

‘I found one of his hoodies and a few other things.’ You called from your bedroom. ‘Can you grab me a bin bag from the top of the fridge?’

You heard shuffling, and then Bradley was standing in the doorway holding out the bag you requested. 

‘Damn, he doesn’t even get one of the nice Trader Joe's bags?’ ‘No,’ you giggled. ‘He gets a trash bag because his stuff is trash, and he’s trash.’

You weren’t really at the stage where you believed that just yet, but saying it was really satisfying, and it felt good to laugh. Fake it till you make it or whatever. 

‘Want me to give it to him tomorrow?’ ‘Thanks, but I should really be the one to do it. I haven’t even texted him back.’ You thought about it for a moment and then continued. ‘Would it be cheeky of me to ask if you’ll come with me? Maybe Nat, too? I could use some moral support, and he’s less likely to make a scene if the two of you are there.’ ‘Of course I’ll be there. I won’t say anything unless you need me to or unless he starts. I can’t make that same promise for Nix, though.’ ‘I haven’t even told Nat yet,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t think I wanna talk about it right this second.’ ‘I’ll text her. Don’t worry about it.’

From your spot on the floor, you looked up at Bradley. The evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting an ethereal glow around him. 

‘You should change your callsign to angel.’ A look of pleasant surprise flickered across his handsome features. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you’re literally my angel, Roo. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Half an hour later, Bradley convinced you to go on a junk food run with him in the Bronco. He said tonight was a mandatory, post-breakup wallowing sesh because if you bottled up your feelings now, you’d explode later at a much more inconvenient time. 

The two of you had been screaming along to all the classic breakup songs: All Too Well by Taylor Swift (yes, he knew all the words), Who Knew by Pink, What About Now by Daughtry… He’d driven the long way to the store because you got so into it. 

Now, as you scanned the shelves in Target, you asked: ‘What is it about screaming sad songs that makes you feel better?’ ‘It’s cathartic,’ Bradley explained. ‘Helps you relieve the strong feelings.’ ‘You know a lot about heartbreak.’ ‘Well, I’ve had my fair share of sadness.’ You froze. ‘That was insensitive of me, I’m sorry.’ Bradley took the packed of Reeses Pieces from your hands so he could hold them. ‘Can you make me a promise?’ ‘What?’ You asked sceptically. ‘Promise you’re gonna stop apologising to me all the time. You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘Sorry.’ You smiled sheepishly.  He shook his head. ‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say.’ ‘Okay, fine,’ you huffed. ‘I promise to stop apologising all the time.’ ‘Thank you,’ Bradley said, releasing your hands reluctantly. ‘Now, pick out five more things.’ ‘Five? There’s already five things in the basket.’ ‘Did I ask?’ ‘I’m gonna get fat.’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Wallowing means junk food, and I don’t know if you’re looking at the same basket I am, but that’s not enough junk food.’ ‘Christ Almighty, okay.’ 

He helped you pick out five more things, and then you headed to check out.

‘What movies are good for wallowing?’ You asked. ‘Well, we have to start with a couple of sad ones and then finish with a happy one.’

The cashier told you your total, and Bradley tapped his card before you could even get yours out. You gave him a withering look.

‘I would’ve paid for that. You paid for the ice cream.’ ‘So?’ ‘So we should take it in turns.’

Obviously, he carried the bags as well, and as you walked back to the Bronco, he couldn’t help but wonder if Viper made you take it in turns. If you were his girl, you’d never have to tap your card.

‘What’s your favourite sad movie?’ He inquired.  You opened the trunk for him so he could put the bags in. ‘Technically, it’s not a sad movie. But there’s this part in Inside Out…Wait, have you watched it before? I don’t wanna spoil it for you.’ ‘The part where Bing Bong gets forgotten?’ You gasped. ‘How did you know?’ ‘Because it gets me every single time.’

The way you looked at him in that moment, like he had hung the moon in the sky—God, it was too much. 

‘We’ll start with Inside Out,’ he told you, opening the passenger door so you could climb in. ‘And then we’ll think of something else.’

Without giving much thought to what he was doing, Bradley found himself buckling your seatbelt for you. You were holding your breath, and it dawned on him how easy it would be to kiss you if he were that sort of guy.

And as much as he wanted to kiss you, he was not that sort of guy. He wasn’t about to take advantage of the fact that some asshole had just taken a sledgehammer to your very beautiful heart. 

‘Can we watch Bridge To Terabithia?’ You whispered.

Bradley hadn’t moved, and you were so close that he could feel your warm breath on his cheek. 

‘Are you trying to break my heart, Y/N?’ ‘Yes. I want you to feel my pain.’ 

He was grinning the whole way around the car to the driver’s side and still grinning when he got in the car. You already had his phone in your hand, searching for more sad songs so you could continue your car concert on the way back to your apartment. He drove the long way again so the two of you could finish your rendition of ‘I Don’t Love You’ by My Chemical Romance, which Bradley didn’t know the words to. He tried his best, though, because you seemed to love it, and he couldn’t deny you anything. 

By the time you got home, the sun had almost entirely set. While he set the snacks out on the coffee table, you went around lighting candles and switching on fairy lights. He’d never seen your apartment in the dark, and it was incredibly cosy. Even though it was relatively warm, you dragged all your blankets and pillows from your bed and made a little nest on the sofa. You were so adorable, it was hard to believe that someone could treat you badly. 

If you were his girl, every night would look like this—except you’d be a lot happier, and there would be no tears. 

Halfway through Bridge To Terebitha, you fell asleep. Bradley had been trying to keep his distance despite wanting to wrap you up in his arms, yet somehow—in your sleep—you’d ended up with your legs in his lap. He’d frozen at first, but once he realised you were dead to the world, he allowed himself to rest his hands on your knees. Really, it was that or sit with his arms crossed, and that would be silly. 

For the duration of the movie, his attention flickered between you and the TV. Every time he tried paying attention to what was happening, his eyes wandered back to your peaceful face. He marvelled at your astounding beauty, the delicate way your eyelashes rested against the tops of your rosy cheeks. Bradley had always admired you, and you’d been good friends for years, but what he felt in that moment was something else entirely. By the time the end credits started rolling, he knew without a doubt that he’d set whole cities ablaze to keep you warm. Feelings as rapidly growing as his should have been terrifying, but Bradley wasn’t scared. Falling in love with you seemed to be as easy as wading out into a calm ocean on a warm summer’s day. 

He knew you’d yet to learn that falling in love and staying in love should always be this easy. He knew it was going to take some time to convince you that you deserved healthy love, that the right person would never run away from you and keep turning around to make sure you were chasing them. 

But Bradley was a patient man, and he would wait as long as he had to.

End of part one.

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it ( Bradley bradshaw x reader ) part one

summary : everyone thought since they were best friend that their kids would be but after some unknown reason bradley bradshaw and y/n mitchell hated each other . after confrontation one night that leaves bradley in a dry spell well the guys make a claim and bradley's willing to bet and prove them wrong all he had to do was get into a relationship with the one person that couldn't stand him .

warning : enemies to lovers, bradley bit of a dick in the start not gonna lie , bet trope , age gap ( ten years hes 38 , she 28 ) this series is gonna be a roller coaster of emotions

They were soulmate platonic  where Mav was, goose was not far behind , both mischievous , both good at what they did . best friends til the end of time even if the time was short lived . so naturally people thought it would be the same with their kids and yet they were very wrong. It was like the two were fire and ice constantly going against each other whenever they got close .  there was a break she went to med school as bradley was back at top gun only for their secret feud to fire back up when she was transferred to a hospital right in san diego and of course she was able to win the hearts of the dagger squad and her turning up to the hard deck it was his worst nightmare come true . if they weren’t locked in the childish back and forth it was ignoring the other existence all together which honestly their friends preferred and as aggravating as y/n mitchell could be nothing was going to dampen bradley bradshaws mood tonight. He almost floated over to his friends the moment he step into the hard deck . the smile on his face was almost cheek splitting when they all looked at him . 

“ guess who got a date with the barista” he flashed his dazzling smile pulling the aviator to perch on his nose . 

“  nice even for you chicken” hangman nodded. 

“ well bagman you know i could give you some advice  , i mean i guess it been a dry spell” he shrugged taking his seat beside phoenix who rolled her eyes and called them both “ disgusting pigs”. 

“ yeah i don’t need advice we both now i do well and even better than you” . 

“ god you both ever gonna tire of the hook ups “ she groaned . 

“ hey this could be best date of my life and she could be the one” bradley smirked. 

Before they could even say more the door open and an excited y/n bounded towards them . 

“ i pass the interview i passed it” she yelled excitedly. 

“ wait the internship in new york?” nat asked unsure of how to feel . 

“ yes it’s not til six month from now but  in six month i will be heading to big city and studying under the greats of pediatrics “ she excitedly dance in her spot barely even sparing the usually happy man in her wake. 

“A date with hot ass woman and she leaving jesus this is my lucky day” rooster felt like crying he was so happy. 

“ in six month pornstache … wow playing in the dog park finally worked out good job” she smiled only for jake to lift her up and spin her around . 

“Knew you could do it , what i tell you this morning” he chuckled ruffling her hair. 

“ not to doubt myself “ she smiled bashfully . “ shit there’s my dad i’ll be back “ she giggled rushing off . 

“ or don’t that’s a good option “ rooster smiled. 

“ i don’t get why you don’t like her” fanboy mused . 

“ because you’ll learn like i did she’ll drop you like that no reason” he rolled his eyes sick of his friend constantly going on about how great she was honestly he thought the same one time and well he learned his lesson . 

“ people change or maybe you done something “ jake mused although he may of know more than he let on giving how close he and y/n got over the two years since she came to san diego. 

“ day that happens i’ll sell my bronco “ bradley scoffed. “ going to the mens room if my date comes tell her i’ll be out in a minute” . 

She stood watching the news sinking in from excitement to straight on nerves .  hoping he would show even a hint of happiness for her . 

“ it’s great news but we .. i just got you back” he smiled uneasy . 

“ it’s only a short flight and i’ll be home for holidays come on dad this is once in a lifetime opportunity i’m literally the youngest and female to be accepted on to this programme “ she almost pleaded with him . 

“ how long is it” 

“ two years with a chance to stay on in new york or head back to my residency here which i will because it will earn my spot on more paid job and more opportunities  it’s only two years and i can visit” she repeated . 

“ well i still got you for six months so i better make most of it i am proud of you but your my baby girl too … penny round on me to celebrate my daughters great work” he smiled sadly although he meant it when he said he was proud . 

“ i’ll have this one with you next one with the guys “ she smiled . 

“ sorry i was suppose to meet someone here and i don’t think i can see him “ a woman called making them turn . 

“ who you looking for honey “ penny beamed 

“ bradley bradshaw oh god i have the wrong place don’t i “ she chuckled . 

“  the wrong man i’d run if i was you” another woman scoffed. 

“ you sure he was charming when i met him “ the girls eyes widened . 

“ really rooster is great guy , don’t listen cheryl she as bitter as those gins “ y/n smiled . 

“ yeah great guy when he and hangman used me as pawn in their who can sleep with most women game , i think i was number 8 made me think i was special never felt the spark like it “ 

“ she’s drunk really rooster is great , he’s sweet and listens to good music “  y/n defended more although she didn’t know why he was an ass to her all time even though he was one that hurt her all those years.

“ sure look he already over there high fiving his friend “ cheryl smirked as the other girl eyes narrowed before y/n  could say anything the woman was barrelling over like a storm . 

Now as bradley looked up ready to greet his date what he didn’t expect was the slap across his face or the anger of a bull on her. 

“ you bastard i thought .. shit i thought one decent guy out there til that woman set me straight “ she pointed over at cheryl although bradley misread it  now he was pissed. 

“ whatever she said was crock of shit  trust me” he defended. 

“ so you and some guy called hangman didn’t have a sleezy contest i will not be a part of delete my number asshole “ was all she said before storming out the bar completely . 

“ she has got some nerve” was all bradley said before he storming towards the bar only he wasn’t going for the right person . 

“ what the hell is your problem  what me being happy isn’t good enough you have to ruin it “ he pulled y/n around as she almost looked shocked. 

“ i didn’t … i didn’t do anything” she stuttered out completely confused. 

 “ yeah you told her about stupid game me and hangman had … do you really like ruining things for me i mean life was great til you showed up here making everyone think your some little sweetheart when in actuality  your’re a cold hearted bitch” he scoffed. 

“ and you said he was a great guy” cheryl laughed . 

“ i guess i was wrong, drop dead rooster “ y/n walked off ignoring everyone’s calls . 

“ shit that girl defended you after i told your date what your really like jesus thanks for proving me right”cheryl saunter off playing her bill and leaving . 

“ wait wait what “ he froze . 

“ rooster what the hell .. you two used to love each other now god your at each others throat but never like that ...   i thought you were better than that .. godson or not you talk to her like that again we’re gonna have problems “ mav warned as he headed out the door .  leaving bradley looking like biggest dickhead in the hard deck head low and tail between his legs he headed back to the table the guys were bar nat and jake who probably fixing his fuck up . 

“ wow harsh man” payback whistled lowly . 

“ yeah not my finest moment “ he grumbled . 

That  sentence was like a mantra on his tongue hell he didn’t want to admit it the dry spell he was having which after his outburst completely extended it first couple of week no girl would even look his way hitting another bust as he headed back to the rest of his squad as y/n sat with jake as far as she could barely even looking his way til she ended up smiling at her phone and bidding the rest a farewell , he didn’t want to admit it but the complete freeze out was worse than before the fact she didn’t even give him a second thought was driving him crazy maybe  the dry spell was affecting him more than he thought . 

“ guess it was a bust” fanboy smirked. 

“ losing your status rooster”  javy laughed , 

“ maybe it for the best between him and hangman  they going to sleep through san diego or that was case” bob chuckled . 

“ now what i would love to see is either of them try a relationship they would fold the second things get serious” payback  pointed out . 

“ ok first ouch bob i’m nothing like bagman  and second i could do serious relationship with any girl “ he stood hand on hips . 

“ not any girl “ bob mused . 

“ baby on board is right not any girl “ jake leaned against the pool table maybe it was a risk and shit if it ended badly well he would hate it but he could see it , he could see it the moment she walked into the hard deck two years ago . 

“ i’d bet my bronco on it “ bradley stood falling into the trap hook line and sinker . 

“ you sure you wanna bet on something you’ll lose chicken ?”  he goaded willing him to take the bait . 

“ fuck it your on bagman name her , point her out” he stood toe to toe with the man . 

“ easy y/n “ that damn smile , the cocky one rooster loved to wipe of his face and yet this one was gonna be tough shit did he have it in him. “ you really are a chicken on it “ he had him hook , line  

“ your on “  sinker .

A.N : Let me know if you wanna be added to taglist for future parts

[rae-gar-targaryen]

as blue as your taste (i taste the same) [mickey “fanboy” garcia x fem!civilian reader aka “cielo”]

A/N: For Fanboy’s fangirls, more Fanboy and his cielita linda. (Remember, reblogs make the world go round!). Fic title from I’ll never tell you where, fic vibe inspired by a twittering little birdy who knows only one, two-syllable word (iykyk). 

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x fem!reader (aka “Cielo;” as always no use of y/n – my readers are written ambiguous, but with a latina!reader in mind.)

Word Count: 3.8k (what a joke I am) of a sun-soaked morning drenched in promise, the taste of coffee, and of your love (beneath your tongue)

Warnings: my writing is its own warning, smut, so 18+ ONLY – p in v sex, unprotected sex (look, it's fic, let's suspend a certain amount of disbelief about what's advisable), touching, fingering, spit as lube, v mild daddy kink (oops i gave away the twittering little birdy reference.)

Summary: Your boyfriend, Mickey, is home and is keen to cater to you early in the morning, whether it’s with a cup of coffee, or all of him. Loving is easy, it’s partial to teasing, tugging, desperation, and softness [part of the Fanboy y Cielo ‘verse.]

--

Hardwood floor, however elegant, bears the inescapable curse of being cold first thing in the morning. And the bedroom floor is chilly and smooth as ice against the flats of Mickey’s feet as he slides out of your shared bed, extricating himself from your snuggled warmth. Your shared bed – something he’d never tire of. 

Mickey cursed his internal clock, burned into his being from the repetitive, intensive military training and the value of routine imbued in every recruit. But if it wasn’t for routine, he wouldn’t be awake at 5:00 a.m., even while on leave. If it wasn’t for routine, he would still be in bed with you. If it wasn’t for routine, he would wrap his arms around you ever-tighter, ensconced in the cloudlike grip of dreamy sleep – his reality, even better with you in his arms.

But he was a man of routine. Except that today there was no barracks check. No drills. Nothing to do with his time in this moment, except to be awake. 

Stretching his arms, Mickey reveled in the popping of his joints and the pleasant tingling burn in his muscles as he made to stand, glancing over his shoulder (not enviously, he swears – but adoringly) at your still-sleeping form, starry-eyed at the sight of you clad and snuggled in his grey sweatshirt. 

The well-loved – not worn out, thanks very much – baggy one he’d worn to your first movie date, when he’d come over to your house with an armful of snacks and a perpetually sunshiney grin. You’d chosen “The Thing” (a horror sci-fi classic – and he could respect a woman of taste), and ended up burrowing into his shoulder, snuggling into the warmth of the very hoodie you were wrapped in now. He couldn’t remember now exactly when it had become a permanent fixture in your home. But now he couldn’t envision it on anyone but you. 

And you hadn’t stirred at Mickey’s departure from your bed – perhaps, Mickey thought, forlornly, perhaps you were used to being in it without him when he was gone for months at a time. The absence just as much a part of your routine as morning laps were a part of his. He shook his head gently, the now grown-in curls caressing his forehead gently at the motion. He refused to let himself dwell on that, when he was home now. When you were together. 

And you had done such a good job of maintaining your shared home while he was away. And as much as MIckey loved seeing you during your FaceTime calls, he would be remiss to say he didn’t also relish catching glimpses of the lived-in domesticity of your space in the background. The sight of your favorite blanket rumpled into the corner of the couch off to the side of your camera. A water glass left on the coffee table. Your golden retriever, Artoo, sprawled on the kitchen tile, snoozing gently while you spoke to your beloved through the little glass screen of your phone. 

It was the least he could do, Mickey thought, to give you some of that domesticity back while you slept. To contribute to your home in ways he otherwise couldn’t while away. 

With that, Mickey slid his feet in preparation over the cool hardwood once more before standing, before slipping quietly from the room, and beckoning Artoo to follow with gently-clacking paws. 

–

The laundry had been started. The dishes from last night’s dinner removed from the drying rack and put away. Artoo had been walked and fed and was now curled atop his cushion with his favorite rawhide chew. And, perhaps most importantly, the softly-burbling coffee maker had filled up enough for Mickey to pour a cup, steaming, and prepared the way you liked it best. 

Slipping quietly back to your bedroom with the porcelain mug generating a welcome warmth that seeped into his fingertips – a contrast to the still-frigid surface beneath his feet – Mickey slid beneath the covers on his side of the bed. Mindful of the fact that you were still sleeping, your features angelic, smooth, and untroubled in that way of deep sleepers, lavender haze cloudy and dreamlike.  

The desire to let you sleep was at odds with the desire he felt as he gazed upon you, his cielo. His morning sky, radiant, even when compared to the purpling, blooming dawn of the expanse outside of your window, casting the room in a sweet morning glow. Bathing your features, resplendent, as though you were made to be seen in the morning light. And perhaps you were. 

It was no secret that Mickey’s days began with you, his name on your lips and his first thought when he awoke, no matter the distance between the two of you. And his nights (when he was lucky), ended with you, too. Lucky to be ensconced in your touch, with the wax and wane of your skylight pull, a siren’s song beckoning him into the bygone era of your devotion, ever lost to time in its eternity. With your breath fanning across his face, and your lips on his. 

And wouldn’t it be so nice to begin his day this way, too? 

Gently, Mickey set your coffee mug on the bedside table nearest him before turning back to you and bending to skate his hand, warmed by the sweet heat of morning caffeine encased in porcelain, beneath his (your) hoodie and along the skin of your waist, tracing up your side and along the ridges of your ribs. 

Bending, Mickey revels in the slight gasp that his touch has emitted from you as you begin to stir, quick to follow the teasing traipse of his fingertips with the skating bridge of his nose, and the sweetest skim of his lips along your neck, trailing up, up to the bridge of your cheek.

What a way to wake up.

“Good morning, tease,” you rasped, twisting in the sheets to separate Mickey’s lips from your neck so that you could crack an eye open, taking in the sight of your beloved leaning over you. “What time is it?” 

Instead of responding, Mickey pressed forward further, closing the gap between you two, to press his lips fully to yours, the softness of his (your) hoodie pressing into his chest as he sucked your lower lip between his. A little something like ardor blooming, aching in his chest as he withdrew in time to see the flutter of your lashes as you opened your eyes fully at his departure. 

“Still early, Cielo,” he murmured, nudging his nose along the bridge of yours, cocking his head to press another kiss to your cheek.

You hmmm’d at Mickey’s attentions, the tingling sensation of goosebumps erupting across your skin – no matter how many times your Mickey has kissed you, no matter how many times you feel his lips across your skin, it garners the same reaction. As though your very person was surprised, pleased, to be the recipient of this man’s love. 

The cool air of the room bit across your face, now that Mickey had retreated from you some. Prompting you to snuggle into his (your) hoodie, and burrow ever further beneath the covers to shield your legs, your slipper-socked feet, from the bite of cold air. 

“I have to get up,” you sighed, wistful that your time beneath the warm cocoon of your comforter was coming to an end. “Artoo needs to go out, and…”

Mickey silenced you with a press of his finger to your lips,

“S’alright, Cielo, I took care of it. And the dishes, and the laundry. I wanted you to sleep in. You know, you work so hard, … and I come bearing gifts,” Mickey passes you the still-warm mug from the nightstand, into your eager fingertips, pleased at the look of gentle surprise that crossed your features.

“You did all my morning chores?” You asked, cracking voice warming with the first grateful sip of your morning caffeine, ever-careful not to belabor too much the loss of the feel of his finger from your lips in favor of coffee. “Oh,” you groaned at the feeling, the taste, of the divinely hot liquid down your throat. “Holy shit, babe. This is amazing.” 

Mickey felt himself flush, a pleasing prickle tickling the tips of his ears and warming his cheeks. Though whether it was at the pleased noise you had made, or the praise that had dripped from your lips, he wasn’t sure. Both were sure to get him going. Coupled with the sight of you in his (your, damnit) hoodie, and he was working his way up to being a total goner.

“Haré cualquier cosa por ti, amor,” Mickey breathed, easing an arm around you as you pressed into his side, sipping happily at your coffee. Anything for you. “I know how you like it.” 

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend then, at the perhaps-innuendo, “You do, do you? Careful. A girl could get used to this level of service.” 

“I do,” Mickey assured, using his arm around you to guide you between his legs, allowing your back to rest against his chest. “And you know, as a dutiful soldier, I’m only happy to serve you.” 

You huffed through your nose at that, an undignified little snort, gently knocking your elbow back into the crook of his side. 

“You’re corny when you’re horny, I just want you to know that,” you chided, your voice lilted and teasing. 

“Me?!” Mickey spluttered, indignant. “What a rude thing to say. I bring you coffee in bed, I let you sleep in my hoodie, and this is how you repay me?”

You twist in Mickey’s arms, coming to face him now, resting on your knees and leaning past him, brushing your chest to his as you place your coffee cup gingerly on his bedside table once more. 

“You’re right,” you sigh, mock consternation coloring your voice. “Maybe it’s just me that’s turned on. Hot guy brings me coffee in bed? How can a girl resist?” You slid your arms around your boyfriend’s neck, allowing your fingers to tangle in the curls at the base of his neck and tugging lightly, causing Mickey’s head to tilt, his jaw to jut ever-slightly upward, pleased at the groan that burned its way from his throat to your ears. “And don’t act like you don’t like me sleeping in this hoodie.” 

And you loved him like this, if you were honest. Teasing, sweet, as he is. And slightly at your mercy. 

You allowed your eyes to drag over your boyfriend’s angelic features, his honeytar eyes swirling as he took you in, in kind. The flash of white teeth behind full lips, parted, waiting with bated breath for your next move. Cinnamon burn married with honey sweetness. 

Your lips met his, then. Full and flush. 

And isn’t it just like Mickey to overwhelm your senses, even when you’re the one –barely– in control? If the sight of him at your mercy wasn’t devastating enough, the feel of his silken curls between your fingers was unmatched in its ecstasy, second only to the feel of his lips on yours. The clean, warm smell you associate with him surrounding you, bleeding into the taste of him on your tongue. Paired remarkably with the taste of the coffee he’d made, rich, bold, and wanting. His sweet little hitch of breath, music to your ears. 

“Rude,” Mickey murmured as your lips parted, “a rude thing, you are.” 

“Rude, hm?” You pecked another kiss to his pouted mouth, a mocking, quizzical little question. “So I shouldn’t let you fuck me now?” 

And isn’t just like Mickey … To render you breathless as he flips you beneath him? Teasing giggles punched from your lungs in exchange for the ever-sweet surprise of his display of strength as he surges over you like a tidal wave of want. 

“Don’t fucking tease me, Cielo,” Mickey breathed, lips inches from yours as his molten-whiskey eyes roved your form. “Don’t you wanna be a good girl?” His hands, warm and firm against your skin, steadied your wriggling thighs as he skated his palms along your legs and up, up, up and beneath the loose hem of your hoodie that skimmed along the tops of your thighs. 

As Mickey’s lips met yours once more, heated and heady, the tips of his fingers toyed with the hem of the underwear you had slept in. You gasped at his touch so close to where you (always) wanted him, allowing Mickey to slide his tongue along yours, deepening the kiss as he tugged your panties down your legs, allowing you the slightest of wriggles of your hips to aid him in his effort. 

And if your teasing before hadn’t done it, the feel of your back pressed to his chest as you had chided him, the feel of your thighs beneath his palms was certainly getting him there, the ache that so frequently accompanied his desire for you, rendering him half-hard. Because of course a touch was all it would take, when he (always) wanted you. 

His cherry cola girl, sweetly radiant and resplendent beneath him. Unfairly resonant of some kind of solar goddess in the lavender-gold hue of early-morning sunlight awash on the creme color of your bedroom walls, splashing along the skin of your now-bared legs, beckoning him to paint you with the reverence you deserved – an eternal piece of art worthy of worship. The very notion of you, heavy in his bones, keeping him grounded whenever he was away, even when he was in the sky.

“I’ll be good, M,” you sighed, gripping Mickey’s wrist with wanting fingers, guiding one of his hands over the top of the hoodie, over the curve of your breast, and allowing his palm to rest along the plane of your throat, pressing a sweet kiss to his fingertips. “I’ll be good if you’ll be mine.”

And who was he to refuse?

And for as many times as you had told Mickey that the was sunshine personified, that his smile was dazzling, that he was the source of light in every room – he could say the same for you, of the sight of the golden light of morning dancing in your eyes, causing them to swim with sunshine and pleasure – with your love for him so naked and plain before him. 

Kneeling between your parted thighs, one hand on your throat, the other squeezing the skin of your hip after he had absconded you of your panties. You brought your legs up to wrap loosely around Mickey’s tapered waist, encouraging him to touch you, with an impatient roll of your hips against the warmth of his thigh just barely within your reach. 

Mickey chuckled at your resulting huff of impatience, conceding with sweet sin. 

Pressing his index and middle fingers past your lips, you accepted them eagerly into your mouth, the warmth of you around any part of him enough to make Mickey close his eyes with a groan. 

“That’s good, baby,” he praised as you gently sucked his fingers, allowing them to work gently in your mouth, satisfied with the feel of your saliva coating his fingers before withdrawing them, rewarding you with a dazzling smile as he took in the glisten of you along the skin of his fingers. “Don’t worry,” he assured, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck as brought his fingers down to run through the seam of your bared pussy, your spit and the wetness already gathered there allowing him to glide his digits along your folds. 

Your love continued to stroke you, one finger probing closer, closer to your entrance as he lavished attention with piteous lips along your neck, a heady, whiskeyed series of kisses with a chaser in the form of nipping teeth. Plucking and playing you as only he could. 

“M, God,” you gasped, as he finally, finally, slid a long finger inside of you, urging, beckoning, demanding, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit as you continued to roll your hips against it. 

Mickey’s other hand traveled up your side, pushing the hoodie up as he went to bare your tits, a light scrape of nails over a pebbled nipple enough to make you yelp, bucking your hips evermore into the hand that cupped you as he continued to finger you. 

“M, please,” you whined, the pressure building inside you painfully exquisite, but not quite enough, “I w-wanna come with you inside me.”

And who was your love if not merciful? Especially when you begged for him, so pretty? So piteous?

 “Y-yeah,” he breathed, shifting to allow your legs to release his waist so he could shuck his boxers down, his hard length prominent, curved. “Gonna fuck you, pretty girl. My good girl.” 

And his pull over you as you reached down to guide his length between your slick folds was oceanic. You’d do anything he asked, if only he’d just — and with a snap of his hips, a groan, and a pitch forward to bring his hands down by either side of your head, Mickey was seated inside of you, rendering you full. 

The surge of him was like the wax and wane of the tides as he began to roll his hips into yours, thrusting at an even, but weighted, pace – every thrust that much harder, harder, harder…

You turned your head to the side to press a kiss to the wrist of the arm that rested there, bringing your own arms up to greedily drink in the feel of your love, skin on skin. 

And, oh, the firm, defined feel of his chest beneath your fingertips was worth any minute spent dreaming about it instead of touching it – because you could touch him now. 

For his part, Mickey was awash at the feel of you around him, silken and warm, like a bolt of eternally-pleasing velvet only he would wrap himself in. The feel of your lips along his skin, of your touch along his torso, your fingers making their way once more to bury himself in his curls, tightening and tugging at a particularly hard thrust of Mickey’s hips. 

And there you were, a veritable garden blooming beneath him, your soft-petaled heart open and bursting with your love as you moaned for him, the sound like honeyed nectar to Mickey’s ears. 

The feel of Mickey inside of you, of the heavy drag of his cock with each flexing thrust was the sweetest torture, satisfying but not quite enough as you urged him for more with your body. Your hands twined in his curls gave a particularly harsh tug as you surged upward to meet Mickey’s lips, catching his lower with your teeth and giving an insistent, but gentle scrape, the bite of someone starved. 

You were so close, so close… Just a bit more… 

“B-baby,” you gasped, “p-please, Daddy, please…” your whimper escapes your lips, the word meeting Mickey’s ears, two syllables drenched in your desperation, your desire. Syrupy and sinful, from your lips to Mickey’s ears. From Mickey’s ears, down his body, tingling along his skin. Your sweet urges, all for him.

And had you ever used that word with him before? Mickey wasn’t sure (and he was sure that if you had, he would recall it) – but the sound of your sweet, breathy moans, the sound of that word was going to play on a loop in Mickey’s mind, burning into his bones in perpetuity. As ever-present as his desire for you. He was sure of it. 

“Please,” you breathed again, dropping your hands to his sides and allowing your nails to drag along the skin of Mickey’s hips and up his torso, your thighs tightening around his tapered waist, soft, sock-bedecked feet locking in place behind him to pull your beloved closer, closer to you. 

He groaned in your ear, a desperate, jumbled rumble from somewhere deep in his chest as he acquiesced to your pleas, surging, deliberate as he continued to fuck into you.

“Say it again, baby,” he urged, inching a hand down to where your bodies were joined, the promise of his precise touch over your clit, where you needed him most a threat enough to make you weep. He gripped your jaw with his other hand, forcing your eyes to lock with his as the cinching warmth of an impending orgasm began to bleed its way through his veins. “Fuckin’ say it again,” he pleaded. 

And it had clicked, just as Mikey’s fingertips brushed your clit, causing the blush of that tightening coil inside of you to begin to burst – he had liked what you’d spilled from your lips, like the dirtiest secret. 

You gazed at the looming glimmer that looked so like desperation behind your love’s eyes, wild and wanton, parting your lips to give him what he wanted – knowing it would result in him giving you what you wanted. 

“Daddy,” you whined, fucking back onto Mickey’s cock with insistent rolls of your hips, and urging his touch along your clit, “Please make me come.” 

And who was he to refuse? 

As the moon in the sky controls the tides, you beckoned. And Mickey had no choice but to follow, rolling his thumb insistently over your clit as he fucked you, a seafoam wave of staticky pleasure overtaking you as your orgasm crested, thighs squeezing Mickey’s sides as the whole of you tightened around him like a viper. 

Pleasantly warm and venomous, your pleasure bleeding into Mickey’s as the two of you joined. 

And like a venom, your desire had spread, bleeding and burning its way through Mickey’s veins as he continued to roll his hips into yours before he spilled himself inside of you, the feeling of him giving you all of himself until he was spent made you want to pen sonnets – an incomparable feeling of secondhand ecstasy at the knowledge that you had given your love this pleasure.  

With a groan, Mickey extricated himself from you – you truly had wrapped around him like a snake, eyes roving over your blissed-out form to confirm that he hadn’t been too rough with you before allowing himself to settle in by your side…

“Soooo,” Mickey sighed beside you, his breath steadying as he came down from his high, from your collective exertion. “Daddy, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm playfully with the back of your hand, “Please. As if you didn’t like it.” 

The sheets slipped against your skin as Mickey pulled you – still wearing his (your) hoodie, now pulled back down to cover you once more – across the bed, all liquid limbs and pliant bones, into his arms. Pressing a kiss into the side of your head and retrieving your forgotten coffee cup from the bedside and depositing it once more into your waiting fingers. 

“You liked it too, Cielo,” he noted, snickering at your semi-disgusted face at the dissatisfying sip of now-cold coffee. 

“Well, yeah, Mickey,” you replied, ignoring the offending coffee in favor of the pleasure of his now stroking along your hair, the two of you settling back into the lazy morning as the sunlight along the walls began to blaze orange. “You’re still so fine.” 

“And does it blow your mind?”

--

Tagging: @withahappyrefrain  @thegirlwhowritesfics @xbamboowishesx @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @abibliophobiaa @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @thematthewmurdock @mrshipsmcgee @p3mybeloved @letmeplaytheliontoo @vestrangel @moonlight-prose @aphrogeneias @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @2clones-1kamino @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @siriusfahey @joaquinwhorres @gingerbreadandpaper @the-navistar-carol  @alexxavicry @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid  @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @melinacalhounxo @marvelousmermaid @callmemana @spencer-is-amazing @mxgyver ​ @n3ssm0nique ​@mothdruid   

[galatially]

Y'all really just want me to watch Top Gun, huh? You dangle the carrot of Hangman and Rooster and now Fanboy??? This is bullying at this point lol

Mickey growing his hair out when he's not on a mission aka being able to grab those beautiful curls while he eats you out 😩😩

literally makes my brain short circuit omg ahhhh!!!

at first you think you just love feeling feeling how soft they are. how the curls feel like silk running between your fingers, how even when his face is not between your thighs and he’s fucking your still have something to keep his mouth pressed to yours—get to feel that softness as his mouth leaves love bites along the column of your neck.

you love every look of his. but the curls are your favorite.

and you realize—after countless nights of him not allowing either of you to sleep until you’ve come on his tongue—that it’s not because of the aforementioned things, but because when you grab a fistful in blinded ecstasy the moan he lets out against your clit is like a melody you want to hear again and again.

you can feel his mouth stutter ever so slightly when you twist, pull, grip at his curls; your hips gyrating, head thrown back, moans falling from your parted mouth, fucking yourself against his tongue. mickey’s fingers digging into the flesh of your hip, the only other telltale sign (besides his moans and his eyes rolling back) that he loves you tugging at his hair.

one night when you do it, when he’s just slipped another finger inside of you, the breathy “fuck” he lets out against your wetness enough to have your already spinning head—clouded with lust and need—in whirlwind.

[make-me-imagine]

Comfort of Home

Plot: After a long stressful week, your boyfriend decides to show you how much he loves you.

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Gn!Reader

Requests: 'Fanboy surprises you with favorite food to make you smile'. + 'Fanboy builds you a pillow fort just to make you smile.'

Requested By: Anonymous

Warnings: Mentions of stress, anxiety, exhaustion. Mostly just pure fluff and comfort though.

Words: ~1k

A/n: I know it's not a gif of him as Fanboy but there aren't enough good gifs from TG.

-

You tapped your fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as you slowly approached your street. All you wanted to do was get home and relax after the week you had, but the drive home felt like it had gotten longer each day.

Relief slowly began to creep over you as you turned down the familiar street. You couldnt wait to kick off your shoes, get into your cozy clothes, eat and then go to sleep.

But what you wanted the most, was Mickey. You had no idea if he'd be home tonight, with how busy he had been as well this week. The worst thing about your already stressfull week, was that you had barely been able to see him.

With your heavy work load, lazy coworkers, and general anxiety over it all, all you wanted was to be engulfed in his arms and inhale his familiar scent. But you had only beeen able to have breakfast with him twice, and lunch once, before each of you had to run off to work.

He'd been staying at the base most nights, only able to come home once this week. You missed him more than anything.

As you turned into your driveway and saw his car, your heart jolted in your chest as you smiled with relief and excitement.

Quickly grabbing your bag, you hurried inside, only making it a couple steps in before he darted around the corner and scooped you up into his arms, your feet leaving the ground as he did.

You let out a startled laugh as you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck. His scent washed over you and you felt your stress begin to fade away as your whole body relaxed.

"Baby! I missed you" he said into your neck as he hugged you tightly before setting you back on the ground.

Meeting his eyes you grinned up at him "I missed you too. I was so happy to see you were home"

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pecking your lips "Both of our busy weeks are over it seems."

You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands held your waist "Does that mean you are home for the weekend?"

"And longer hopefully. At least I should be able to come home to you every night for a while."

You grinned up at him and he smiled "Good. I hate not sleeping next to you."

Leaning closer, he kissed you, pulling you closer to him. He kissed you slowly and gently before he pulled away with a sigh.

Meeting your eyes he suddenly smiled "I got you something."

You perked up a bit "You did?"

He pulled away but slipped his hand into yours as he led you towards the kitchen. As you entered, you noticed a bright bouquet of flowers on the counter and you grinned, before walking up to them and engulfing their scent.

"So pretty." You said softly, warmth swirling in your chest.

"And this."

Looking over, you saw him set bags on the counter from your favorite restauraunt. You let out a soft gap "No"

He grinned as he pulled out the food, the smell reaching your nose as you recognized your favorite dishes "Yes."

You hopped happily over to him, making him chuckle as you wrapped your arms around his waist "You're too good to me" You mumble as you pressed a kiss to his arm

He shook his head "No, I'm your boyfriend, this is exactly how I sould be."

You smiled as you tightened your grip on him, as he moved his arm around to hold you close. "How tired are you?" he asked and you looked up at him.

You thought for a moment. The exhaustion you had felt on your way home seemed to have faded away.

"I think my body is more tired than my mind."

"So tired but not sleepy?"

You nodded in agreement and he nodded "Good"

"Good?"

Taking your hand again he lead you towards the living room. As you rounded the corner, your eyes lit up in surprise as you noticed the whole room had been turned into a pillow fort.

Pillows, cushions and blankets lined the floor, as sheets were draped above them, hanging over the tv, successfully creating a comfy cave of sorts. On the table you saw a stack of movies you had been planning on watching. Nearby, a box of snacks for you assumed after dinner.

Looking over at Mickey, he grinned down at you before wrapping his arms around you from behind "Don't worry, I'll clean it all up once we're done. What do you think?"

You felt tears prickle your eyes as you turned around to face him. His eyes widened a bit as he cupped your face.

"Baby! I didn't meant to make you cry."

You let out a laugh "It's okay, you're just so sweet. I don't deserve you."

He gently caressed your face with his thumbs "I'm supposed to say that to you." He pressed a soft kiss to your lips "You take care of me when I'm busy and stressed. The least I can do is show you how much I love you when you have a bad week. Plus-" he ran his thumb over your lips as you ginned at him "I missed your smile."

Quickly kissing him on the lips, you wrapped your arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. He quickly wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"I love you Mickey."

"I love you too Baby."

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Top Gun Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal, @springflwer07, @pockyandme, @iceman-kazansky, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @callsignmaverick5, @phoenix138, @merlin-dahlia, @blueoorchid, @oliviah-25, @writerfulltime

[ouralcohol]

alch asks

kay, I've never done asks.. but ask anyway? i write for top gun and andrew garfield's peter parker/spider-man... i promise i write, I'm just a turtle, but i figure if i do blurbs of certain things, then maybe I can be a wee bit faster. though quality over quantity no? I'm dipping my toes in the pool!

[iliketopgun]

I do not have rizz, I just have big green eyes and many concerning thoughts

Reblog if you agree

[sometimes-i-write-good]

alma perdida - prologue

Top Gun: Maverick - original character insert

725 | "Don't you dare do anything stupid, Stinger." 

Clearly whoever was shouting into the radio didn't know her very well. She'd spent years buzzing control towers, stealing jets for joyrides, and making the higher ups so miserable they almost missed Maverick.

Wouldn't dream of it. She thought. Doing, though? Now that was another story.

===

Genre: Canon Divergence, Angst, Coming of Age

CW: canon-typical violence, mentions of possible character death

Author’s note:   This is my first fic for Top Gun/Top Gun: Maverick. I apologize for any and all inconsistencies, there are going to be quite a few. I know nothing of the military, and I suck at creating believable timelines that follow the movies to a precise science, so this is very much a canon divergence. || It’s also cross-posted on Ao3 with a lot more information, so please show it some love there as well <3

===

===

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

It really wasn’t.

Mav had been clear. More clear than she had ever known him to be. If you did not meet the parameters, you did not come home. And she knew better than anyone, save Bradley, that Pete “Maverick” Mitchell did not just spend the past few weeks teaching them to push their limits out of the kindness of his heart. He did it to get everyone home.

And it was starting to look like that would be more wishful thinking than anything. Masters and the rest of those on the mission, her closest friends, knew there would be SAMs waiting for them after Coffin Corner. The sheer amount still managed to shock her. Screaming chaos reminded her of active-duty years ago. She was the only one to make it back that time. Who is making it back this time? She thought to herself.

“I can’t shake ‘em!” Rooster screamed into the radio. He never used to scream. When the two of them were growing up, she would push his lawful good mentality to the limits, and he only ever raised his voice once - and that was the day he stopped being her friend and became an enigma. Some weird variation of not being friends but wishing we were.

Am I cursed? Bee craned her head in all directions. Smoke in the air. All over the place and she was running out of flares and countermeasures to protect everyone with. Growing up Bradley had never been one to put himself in life-or-death situations. He’d only ever been the kind to pull her out of them, and yet here she was with his screams, “I can’t shake ‘em,” filling the cabin of her Boeing F/A 18E/18F Super Hornet. Stinger in a Hornet sent to take out a nasty hive. It had felt ironic a few hours ago.

Mav had chosen her as team leader. She got to choose who flew with her. It should have been Hangman out here. Someone who would have been fast enough, capable enough. Someone who would understand that this SAM headed for him was going to take him down and headquarters would tell the rest of them to fly back to that damn aircraft carrier. He would have had a smart-ass comment. “Don’t worry, everyone,” Masters could practically hear him croon with the slightest hitch in his voice. The voice of a man whose fate had already been signed. "Someone has to play the hero. It might as well be me.”

But it wasn’t. It was Rooster up here freaking out. It was Mav waiting for him back on the carrier. That missile would be sending two people to the grave, and you couldn’t have that on your conscience.

Fanboy glanced out his canopy at Bee. In the pandemonium - the screaming and spinning and smoke - he caught her eye and read her mind. Payback banked right to avoid a SAM. Fanboy’s gaze wasn’t there, but Masters could still feel the weight of his stare. He knew her well enough. They’d stolen kisses in between briefings and talked on the phone for hours at a time when they were stationed thousands of miles apart. He knew her well enough to know that Rooster’s screams did something to her. Activated this tiny part in her brain where abandonment turned her blood to ice.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Stinger!” But she couldn’t hear him over the sound of everyone screaming. “Don’t you dare!”

Maybe if she had locked onto Fanboy’s voice instead of Rooster’s “Holy fuck, guys!” she wouldn’t have made the split decision to do a cobra maneuver over Rooster and deploy her flares. Then there would be no need to scream Mickey’s name to beg for forgiveness of a higher power she wasn’t sure she even believed in.

Outside her F-18 everything went silent. The aftermath of a mission gone awry. Purgatory. A limbo holding her jet by the strings of fate. In an instant, all that changes. Those strings snapped. There’s nothing Bee can do but plummet down beneath everyone’s line of sight. She can listen to alarms blaring as she struggles to grab onto her eject lines, and she can hear Fanboy’s panicked shrieks.

“Stinger! Stinger! Masters, oh fuck no. Please, Bee!”

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.