#fanboy garcia x you

[sebsxphia]

the cure for a bad day.

mickey ‘fanboy’ garcia x reader.

￫ description: mickey comes home wound tighter than ever and he’s looking for a sweet release.

￫ word count: 900.

￫ c/w: oral (m!receiving), blowjobs, deep throating, face fucking, praise, kissing and swearing.

￫ a/n: a while back i asked a question, “who would laugh out of pure joy after they got a really good blowjob?” and mickey was the common consensus, so this is the result! this is part of my 3.5K celly here! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

The warmth of Mickey’s dark amber eyes were on you as you ran your hand up and over his shaft, giving it a couple of strokes with your own spit. You watched intently as his own gaze faltered with his eyelashes fluttering open and close. Mickey wanted to hold your gaze because your piercing eyes were drawing him under, but the sight and feel of your plush lips wrapping around his head and sinking further down his shaft, made him throw his head back completely in defeat.

He let out a long and strained groan. It came from deep within his torso, with the stress of today’s training leaving his body with every run of your lips over his cock. He let his body sink deeper into the blissful sensation before picking his head back up and looking down at you. Your eyes flicked back up to him and Mickey let out another grunt, followed by his praise. “Fucking hell, my angel.” He nestled his hands into your hair and gripped onto it tightly to tug on the roots. From the hold he had on you, he was able to guide your mouth rhythmically up and down his cock.

His day was shit, for lack of better word and when you offered to make it better for him, Mickey’s cock twitched beaten his flight suit, too exhausted to change on base. He was already feeling tightly wound and he knew it wasn’t going to take much movement from your slick mouth to bring him close to the edge.

Your hand came up to gently cradle at his balls. You gave them a gentle squeeze and rolled them in the palm of your hand. A gasp, followed by another guttural groan left Mickey’s throat. It always made your cunt clench around nothing at how low and deep Mickey’s moans became in the throws of pleasure.

His hips stuttered at the feeling of your nimble hand and he jerked his hips closer, pushing his painfully hard cock further down your throat. His tip hit the back of your throat and you let out a crude sounding gag in response. “Shit, baby!” Mickey’s head was thrown back again. The feeling was all consuming and he was putty in your hands. Although Mickey’s own hands were still tightly buried in your hair, you were now close enough to his pelvis that you could control your own strokes.

You pushed to the last inch of Mickey’s cock and your nose finally met his dark curls. You spluttered on the size of him and your jaw twinged with the first signs of aching. Through all the throat training you’d gone through, you still hadn’t grown accustomed to his size. However, you remembered to breathe steady through your nose, which was the most important thing Mickey had taught you.

You pushed your mouth over the last remaining inches of his length and he praised you for doing so. “That’s it, good girl.” You let your jaw relax and swallow responsively around him. The collection of saliva in your mouth started to drool out the corners and drip down onto your thighs as you knelt on your living room floor.

“Jesus, my sweet angel. I’m not gon’ hold on much longer, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

The sweet encouragement from Mickey was all you needed to push through a couple of lasting sucks. The head of his cock was hitting the back of your throat and that’s when you felt him twitch in your warm mouth.

“Shit, shit, shit. Baby angel, I’m gon’ come.” Mickey’s chest was rising and falling rapidly with heavy pants. Strangled groans left his mouth repeatedly, followed by your name as you pushed him over the precipice. His hips chased after his own orgasm and he thrusted down your throat further than before.

Mickey was using your mouth to let out his own frustration however he wanted and it made you dizzy. Your cunt clenched around nothing again and you moaned desperately around him. It was muffled, but the vibrations went straight through to Mickey and you could finally taste his salty cum spilling down your throat.

“That’s it, angel. Take it, take my cum. Good girl.” Mickey choked out as he caught up with his own high. You swallowed a handful more times to get his warm spend down you, before pulling off his shaft inch by inch. You came off with a satisfying, ‘pop’ and a trail of spit mixed with his cum connecting from your bottom lip to the head of his softening cock.

His hands un-tangled from your hair and they rested behind his head. He leaned back onto the sofa. Normally, Mickey would follow with a string of praises and ask to pleasure you next, but on this occasion all that met your eyes and ears was Mickey letting out a huff of laughter. His hands came back to cover his face and he followed with another string of belly aching laughter. His release was clearly well needed and you had a prideful smile on your face, all due to the fact that you could reduce your sweet boy to a puddle of pleasure induced laughter.

The giggles subsided and Mickey leant down to cup your warm cheeks in his hands, ducking down to place a soft kiss to your lips. “That felt so good, you have no idea, my sweet angel. Thank you.”

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown

[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​

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Family Man - Fanboy

Pairing: Fanboy / GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 0.7k

This work, all of my works, and my entire blog is 18+ Only

Warnings: Messy Kids; Implied Stay-at-Home Reader; Second Person POV ("You"), No Y/N, No Mention of Gender or Appearance for Reader; Unnamed Garcia Kid OCs (not Referenced if they're Adopted/Biological)

Summary: After a long day at work, Fanboy returns home to complete his most important job: taking care of his family.

Master List

Mickey returned home from work to find the house just as he left it—a disaster.

But with a toddler and a baby at home, there was no such thing as clean. There was no time to clean. And anyone who expected a house with a toddler and a baby to be anywhere close to clean had clearly never interacted with a child before. But he knew that a messy house always stressed you out and made a mental note to try and clean some of it after dinner.

Setting his work bag by the door and toeing off his shoes, Mickey walked into the kitchen area to see you already sitting at the dinner table. Your son was sitting in his high chair, happily taking the little bits of baby food that you fed him. Your daughter was making a, though you tried to get her to cooperate enough to eat some vegetables.

“I’m home!” Fanboy called, causing your daughter to let out a squeal.

“Daddy!”

She hopped down from her seat and raced around the table to Fanboy. He happily scooped her up and pressed a kiss to her forehead as he settled her on his hip. Fixing the bow in her hair, Fanboy pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“Did you miss me, huh?”

“Yeah! You left!” your daughter complained, playing with the pins on Mickey’s uniform.

“I had to go to work, Princess.”

“Why?”

“Well, you like eating food, don’t you?” Fanboy joked, bouncing your daughter teasingly. “Are you being a good girl?”

“Yeah!”

“Mostly,” you joked as your husband walked around the table to greet you. Fanboy leaned down to press a greeting kiss to your lips, earning a disgusted screech of ‘ew’ from your daughter in return. “How was work, Papi?”

“Long. The contractors from the Pentagon were still hanging around,” Fanboy explained, turning to kiss your son on top of his head. “Lots of long meetings that I could have done without.”

“Dinner is up on the stove,” you told him, scooping out more baby food for your son.

Fanboy set your daughter down in her seat and noted the fact that you didn’t have a plate of food in front of you yet. You were more focused on feeding your children than yourself, like the good parent that you were. But you had a long day too and Fanboy was sure that you were hungry.

He walked over to the stove and grabbed a plate from a cabinet. Filling it with enough food for two people, Fanboy returned to the dinner table. Sitting down across from you and in between your children, Fanboy put two pieces of vegetables on his fork. He held it out to you so that you could take a bite. You glanced over at fork and shot your husband a small smile before eating the vegetables.

Fanboy fed himself and dabbed at your daughter’s chin with a napkin before grabbing some chicken with his fork. Holding it out to you again, this time while you were feeding your son, Fanboy waited patiently for you to reach out and eat the chicken. You sent him another thankful smile as you ate it off of his fork.

And from there, the cycle continued. You would feed your kids and Fanboy would try and keep them settled and clean. He would feed himself some food and then feed you from his plate.

When your kids were done eating, Fanboy moved to take them away to give you a moment alone. Holding your son in his arms while your daughter ran off to grab her toys, Fanboy placed the plate full of your favorite food that he picked out for you down in front of you despite your momentary protest. You shot him a look, though your lips curled into a small smile.

“Take your time,” Fanboy assured you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “They’re a lot of work.”

“Of course, they are. They’re your kids,” you shot back at your husband. Though before he stepped too far away, you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and pulled him in for a better kiss that he happily returned. Pulling away, you cupped his cheek with your hand. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Fanboy told you, sneaking another quick kiss. “Now, eat.”

A.N. This was lowkey inspired by the photo of the TGM cast with Andrew Garfield where Danny was more focused on eating than anything else.

[ohtobeleah]

not sure if you're still taking concepts but i'm feral for some mickey smut. mickey picks you up from brunch with the girls and you're foaming at the mouth at how good he looks in his sunday athleisure. #StrictlyScandlous

Eeep okay so I was having a little brain malfunction today and I really wanted to write but I didn’t inherently feel like writing for any of the stories I have going on so I thought I’d just do like a strictly scandalous concept that was left over from the last round. I was in my Mickey mood. 

Enjoy: warnings: sexually explicit content ahead.

Mickey Garcia was a simple man, he didn’t need a lot of things in life to make him happy. He loved his family, hell without his family Mickey wasn’t exactly sure who’d he’d even be. He loved his friends, especially his Dagger Squadron—although Mickey had lived in many houses and seen a lot of places across the continental United States, he never truly felt like he was home until he found himself in North Island. 

Living up to the reputation and expectations bestowed upon him, Mickey loved a good Fanboy moment. He loved his Star Trek and his Star Wars and his Battlestar Galactica, hell he even dabbled with the Gilmore Girls which was a sharp left hand turn to what his usual self indulgent fiction was. 

But if there was someone who Mickey Fanboy Garcia loved more than anything or anyone else on the entire planet—it was you. He was your biggest fan. You were without a shadow of a doubt the love of Mickey's life and if the wedding ring that wrapped around his ring finger didn’t show a glimmer of the amount of love that coursed through Mickey's veins, then he had a real problem on his hands. Because the day you began Mrs Fanboy Garcia was the happiest day of Mickey's life. 

“Mickey!!” You bellowed from the top of the steps of the Hard Deck. “Guys! Mickeys here! I gotta go!” You’d been out celebrating Phoenix and her promotion with some of the girls. You weren’t a pilot, hell you weren’t even in the damn Navy, but it was cool that they’d always treated you like one of the guys and not just a spouse on the side. 

Mickey waited by the hood of his 2005 Honda CRV he was determined to run into the fucking ground before he upgraded, he’d gotten it second hand from a guy in Arizona and was determined to get his money’s worth. 

“Oh my god, babe? You good?” Mickey chuckled as a grin crept across his smitten face. “Here I’ll help—“ With a pep in his step and a quick jog to your side, Mickey was guiding you and you, your very drunk self—back to the car with a hand pressed to the small of your back and another one set in your open palm. “Mrs Garcia, you smell like a distillery.” 

“Uh, the girls introduced me to something very seductive yet fickle, a fair-weathered friend who seems friendly and benign at first but packs a wallop like a donkey kick and that is the Long Island Iced Tea.” Mickey looked far too good for you to not feel yourself getting a little slick in your panties, his hair had grown out, sweaty curls clung to the nap of his neck from under the baseball cap he wore backwards. Black on black shorts, and T had you feeling all kinds of ways. 

“Oh no—how many did you have?” Mickey laughed to himself when you lost your footing and he had to help steady you on the short walk back to the car. 

“I guess I didn’t mention the fact it was a bottom brunch did I?” Mickey lost all control of himself when he couldn’t hold back his laugh. “We never did find the bottom—“ You added, pouting your bottom lip out as you leaned against the car, waiting for your beautiful husband to open it for you once he’d finished laughing about the hangover he knew you were going to have tomorrow. “Where were you when I called?” 

In your time consuming every conceivable drop of alcohol that had been placed before you, the fact Mickey had been out hiking the trails around base with none other than Robert Floyd. He’d only just gotten back to his car when you called, tapping out of bottomless brunch. If you kept searching for the bottom the only thing you were going to find was the emergency department of Miramar Base Hospital. 

“I was out hiking with Bob–” Mickey cooed, Guiding you into the passenger seat. “Here watch your head.” It wasn't that Mickey thought you were incompetent, it was just he knew by the way you could barely keep yourself upright in the passenger seat that you had had far too much alcohol. He wanted to take care of you the best he could, keep you safe. Leaning over you and into the car, Mickey strapped you in. 

“Mmm you smell good.” Again, Mickey couldn't help but to laugh softly. He was a sweaty mess from running around in the sun with Bob. “Really good.” As Mickey clipped in your seatbelt, you leaned forward to kiss his exposed neck, sending a titlewave of goosebumps across his tan skin. “Taste good too–” 

“Minx.” Was all Mickey mumbled as he turned his head to kiss your lips, tasting the familiar but hangover inducing flavours of the Long Island Iced Tea. “Let's get you home huh?” 

“You look really good in that little athleisure moment, Lieutenant.” You knew your words were affecting your husband by the way he was fighting the hume that every so desperately wanted to take over the apples of his cheeks as he slid out of the car and shut the door behind him. 

“Lord give me strength–” He whispered to the heavens above as he walked around to the driver's side, it wouldn't be morally appropriate to give into your seductive ways when you'd had consumed enough alcohol to sedate an elephant or Hangman on an empty stomach at best. 

It was the longest car ride home ever for Mickey as he sat there and listened to you try and seduce him, his cock throbbed against his boxer briefs and left nothing to the imagination through the thin layer of material his shorts were made of. 

“Relly wanna fuck you in the back seat Mickey baby, dont you wanna fuck me?” Oh god yes he did. So much. 

“I love you, but you've had a little too much to drink baby, I don't wanna take advantage of you like this.” The gentleman as always, but you were feral. It was either a new callonge that had sent you into heat or it was Mickey's androstenone which realistically, was a naturally derived cologne that made you want to fuck his brains out. 

“Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” You smirked, slowly taking your top off over your head as Mickey tried his best to focus on the road ahead. You were his fucking wife, the love of his life, his best friend. Mickey Garcia had seen your tits a million times before and he knew he’d see them a million times more, but every time you exposed them to him, he was mesmerised. Captivated by the trance your tits put him in. “You wanna touch me baby?” 

“So badly honey, but I gotta focus on the road, get you home safe.” Fuck this was pure torture and what made it worse was that Mickey knew that you knew he was a puddle of a man in your seductive hands. So when you took your bra off and flung it into the back seat, he knew you were up to no good when he felt your hand snake around his and guide it from the steering wheel to your chest. “Y/n–” 

“Touch me Lieutenant I’m so fucking wet.” 

“Babe!” Mickey couldn't help but to blush, he could feel the heat rising in his cheek and the blood throbbing in his length but he still did as he was told and squeezed your tit in the palm of his hand, as you held his hand there. “I'm trying to drive!” 

“And I’m trying to get you to fuck me because you look like an adonis right now!” As you giggled and bit down on your bottom lip, you slowly let go of Mickey's hand, revelling in the fact he kept his hand there. “You should pull over up ahead.” 

“We’re almost home?” Mickey frowned in confusion as you brought your hand up to cup over your mouth. “You okay?” 

“I need to puke–” You gagged, Mickey's eyes shot out of his head as he was pulling over, watching as you unbuckled your seatbelt and instead of climbing out of the car, climb into the back seat. 

“Y/n oh my god! I thought you were being serious! We’re five minutes from home!” Mickey groaned, not entirely sure how to navigate the situation playing out. But was he angry? No, this was the hottest thing ever. 

“You have two options here Flyboy, either get your ass back here and fuck me or sit there and watch me get myself off, but either way–I’m not leaving this car until ive had an orgasm.” Mickey paused, he knew he shouldn't when you'd had so much to drink, but then again, the roles had been revered on a number of occasions and you'd captured to his every request. Tossing up the options he’d been given, Mickey shut the engine off and made quick work following you into the back seat, climbing over the centre console to get there.

“You make me a weak fucking man baby.” Mickey mumbled as he took your lips hostage, loving how you giggled into his mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “A sinner if there ever was one.” 

“Fuck me good fuck me well flyboy.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~

Strictly Scandalous Mickey Fanboy Garcia

[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.

[planetpiastri]

💝+ a kiss that isn't meant to happen but does so anyway from this list with fanboy🤍

this turned out VERY unserious but like 90s romcom unserious if that makes sense? anyways i hope you enjoy!! | [wc - 1.1k]

This was bad. This was very, very bad. You couldn’t recall a time when you’d been in a situation this bad.

Mickey was off limits. Before you ever even met him, you’d set that rule for yourself. It didn’t matter that with every little thing your friend told you about him, you found yourself liking him more and more. It didn’t matter that when you did finally meet, you hit things off uncomfortably well. It didn’t matter that somewhere along the line he’d become one of your closest friends. It didn’t matter that their relationship had only lasted a couple months and had ended amicably. It didn’t matter that you’d fallen hopelessly, utterly in love with him.

He was your friend’s ex-boyfriend, which meant he was off limits. 

And now you were sitting next to him at a baseball game, the seats so small you were practically in his lap, and his arm was around the back of your chair.

This was very bad.

“These are good seats,” you said for maybe the billionth time.

“Thanks. I won them on the radio,” he replied for the billion-and-first time.

You tried desperately not to read into the fact that when Mickey won Dodgers tickets, you had been the first one he’d called, his voice loud and exuberant as he word-vomited: “I bought tickets no I didn’t buy them I won them I won Dodgers tickets I was the seventeenth caller and I won tickets there’s two of them for this Saturday are you free do you want to come do you want to come to a Dodgers game with me please?” 

Mickey was one of your best friends, and you were one of his. It made sense that he’d want to take you with him to an event like this. Did you know much about baseball? No, not really. But you knew enough to know when to cheer and when to boo and when to shout, “Aw, come on!”

This made sense. This was completely platonic. There wasn’t anything to read into here. 

Maybe if you said it to yourself enough, you’d start to believe it, too.

On the field, the players scrambled into action. A Dodgers player sprinted for third and got tagged out. The stands roared.

“Aw, come on!” you said.

Mickey glanced at you and laughed. His arm moved, bumping against your shoulders, and you went stiff as a board. Surely he knew what he was doing. So why the hell was he doing it?

He must be messing with you. Mickey was always teasing you like that. The other night at the bar Hangman had made some offhand comment about ‘When are you two going to just get together?,’ and ever since that, Mickey had been playing things up around everyone. That must be what this was. He was just teasing you, enjoying watching you squirm.

This was normal. Mickey was off limits. 

“Hey,” he said suddenly, his mouth so close to your ear that you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I’m gonna get something to drink!” you almost yelled, standing so abruptly that your shoulder knocked against Mickey’s chin. You immediately cringed, reaching out to cup his face and blurting, “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“S'okay,” Mickey grunted. “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth to reply and apologize again, but a whistle blared down on the field. The teams began to switch, and music began to play, and the jumbotron began to play a kitschy, red-and-pink heart animation.

“Here comes that kiss cam!” the announcer said loudly. “Pucker up, fans!”

“God, I’m thirsty!” you said hoarsely. “Do you want a drink, Mickey? Maybe some ice for your face?”

His hands were still on your wrists, his gaze serious. “I really need to ask you something.”

“Wouldn’t you rather ask me with a nice, cold Coke in your hand?” you blurted, panicked heat coursing through your skin.

Overhead, the announcer said, “Alright, you two, how about a kiss?” You cast a quick glance towards the jumbotron as an elderly couple chastely pressed their lips together. The crowd aww-ed.

“No, I'm okay,” said Mickey, tugging at your arms. “Can’t you sit down?”

“Or a hot dog,” you rambled, your mouth working independently of your brain. “Or nachos! Don’t you want nachos?”

“Are you okay?” asked Mickey, his eyebrows knitting in concern. “Maybe you do need some water.”

On the jumbotron, the camera found a little boy sitting with his mother in an oversized Dodgers jersey. The announcer said, “And a kiss for mom! How sweet.”

“I’m okay,” you said quickly. “It’s just hot up here. Don’t you think it’s hot up here? Mickey, can you let go of my hands, please?”

He did, but he angled his legs across the aisle so you couldn’t run away. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” you yelped, scrubbing your hands across your face. “No, you didn’t—you haven’t—you’re great. This is just me.”

“But I just—”

“And how about these two? Oh, are we interrupting something?” said the announcer, and when you jerked your head to look over at the jumbotron, you saw yourself.

This could not be happening.

“How about a kiss?” said the announcer.

You sat down in your seat, hard, your face burning. Your heart was pounding your chest, and you could feel your blood pulsing in your head. Mickey was shaking you gently and saying something, and when you looked over at him, everything else seemed to fade away.

“We don’t have to,” he was saying, trying to give you a bolstering smile.

You said something. Later, you’d have a hard time remembering what exactly it was you said, but you were pretty sure it was something like, “I wish we could.” 

“We’re waiting,” said the announcer. People were chanting, encouraging you.

“We shouldn’t,” you said.

“Shouldn’t we?” said Mickey. His fingers brushed the hair at your temple, grounding you as his hand cupped the side of your head.

“What about that question you wanted to ask?” you murmured, unable to focus on anything except his eyes, pinning you in place.

“Forget the question,” said Mickey, and then his other hand came up to the other side of your face and he kissed you. You sighed into his mouth, which maybe would have been embarrassing, but this was Mickey. If you couldn’t be yourself with him, you couldn’t be yourself with anyone.

And what a kiss. It was like listening to your favorite song—every rhythm, every beat, every crescendo and every fade, it was all familiar and expected and anticipated and satisfying.

When he pulled away, you felt calm—and profoundly silly. The kiss cam was long gone; the game was going again. It was just you and Mickey in the seats he had won on the radio.

Your mouth fumbled for words. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t—I just—I didn’t plan for this.”

That more than anything else is what finally made Mickey break into a beautiful, wide smile. “Well, jeez,” he said, “I’d sure hope not.”

And then he kissed you again.

[t-nd-rfoot]

MICKEY 'FANBOY' GARCIA fanfiction by t-nd-rfoot

BACK TO NAVIGATION

ONE-SHOTS

Before You Do The most important decision should be made at your wedding, not before it.

HEADCANONS

3...2...1...! Time for Mickey to ring in the new year.

MOODBOARDS

By Blood and In Arms New! Brothers stick together through it all.

[queenofwands89]

Quiet Affections

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Pilot!reader

Summary: After her friends tease her about Jake having a crush on her, Y/N reflects on certain memories that make her question whether there might be some truth to their playful jabs.

Warnings: Teasing, pining, Jake being a sweetheart, Y/N being oblivious, insults aimed at Y/N, protective Jake, mention and description of injury, anxiety, doubts, fluff.

Notes: Happy Friday, everyone! We made it! 🎉 I just hit 2,500 likes on here and wanted to thank each and every one of you who liked, reblogged, or commented on my works. It means the world to me. I’m down bad for Jake, and need him badly so I wrote this. Enjoy byeeee

You find yourself deep in the heart of the Hard Deck, the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses forming a comforting backdrop. Rooster, Natasha, Javy, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey are clustered around the pool table, laughter spilling freely as they take turns making shots and throwing jabs. Jake had just excused himself to go to the restroom, but not before brushing a lingering hand against your shoulder and whispering something that made you smile. This action set off a chain reaction of teasing directed at you.

"Y/N, you know Hangman’s got a huge crush on you, right?" Rooster's mustache twitches with a sly smile as he lines up for his shot.

You laugh it off, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh please, Bradley. Jake? No way. He's just... nice."

Rooster and Natasha exchange glances before Natasha cocks an eyebrow at you. "Nice? Hangman is many things, but nice isn't the first word I'd use. Unless he’s talking to you," she remarks, tapping her cue stick against her palm.

Bob, always the quiet observer, chimes in. "He's got a point though, Y/N. I've seen how he looks at you."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I'm just completely unaware of it," you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "You guys are ridiculous."

Mickey grins, his boyish charm lighting up his face. "Maybe, but can you really deny the way he's always got your back?" he asks, leaning casually against the pool table.

Your first instinct is to rebut, but as their words settle in, you start to think about some of the things Jake had done for you. Not just the grand gestures like saving your hide in aerial combat, but the small, everyday things. The way he'd always save you a seat, bring you coffee exactly how you like it, offer subtle words of encouragement when you doubted yourself.

Javy steps forward, his competitive spirit twinkling in his eyes. "You're telling me you haven't noticed how he always goes out of his way to make sure you're okay?"

Reuben, good-natured but always vigilant, nods in agreement. "Hangman's not exactly an altruistic guy, Y/N. But for you? He'd go to lengths he wouldn't for anyone else."

You crack a wry smile, determined to stay firm in your denial. "He's just protective. We're teammates."

Natasha had already joined in, her voice warm yet teasing. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. It’s not just about being teammates. He genuinely cares.”

In the ensuing silence, you can't help but ponder on their words. Jake "Hangman" Seresin is charismatic and assertive, traits forged from his exceptional flying skills and competitive nature. But beneath that cocky exterior, there lies a heart incredibly loving and caring, willing to sacrifice anything for his loved ones. Slowly, you find yourself drifting into a vivid memory, reliving the countless cherished moments and experiences you've shared with Jake.

You recall that evening at the Hard Deck vividly. The bar was buzzing with the usual chatter and laughter, the hum of camaraderie filling the air. You were amidst your friends, enjoying the rare downtime when an unfamiliar voice cut through the noise—this stranger making an offhand but cruel remark about you. The comment was subtle, yet it stung deeply, rooting you in place with a mix of shock and mortification. Your cheeks burned under the weight of the ridicule, words lodged in your throat.

Before you could muster a response, you felt Jake's presence beside you, solid and reassuring. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and the offender. His usual easy going demeanor was replaced by a steely resolve, his eyes dark with anger. "Do us all a favor and think before you speak," he said, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable edge.

The bar fell into an uneasy silence as Jake’s glare pinned the offender in place. "If you've got a problem with Y/N," he continued, his voice low and unwavering, "you’ll be dealing with me."

The tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. The offender, unable to match Jake's intensity, muttered an apology and slunk away, deflated. The moment passed, but the impact lingered. Jake remained there a moment longer, ensuring the threat had fully dissipated before turning back to you.

As he met your gaze, the hardness in his features softened, replaced by a gentle concern. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with a tenderness reserved just for you.

You felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude, the initial embarrassment giving way to a profound sense of relief. Jake had stood up for you without a second thought, his protective instinct leaving no room for compromise. In that moment, you knew you were safe, not just physically but emotionally, knowing Jake had your back. His touch and the concern in his eyes reassured you even more, providing a solace that words alone could not.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Then there was the night when you couldn’t sleep, tormented by insecurities that gnawed at the edges of your mind. It was long past midnight, and you found yourself seated on the deck of the aircraft carrier, trying to get some fresh air to clear your head before the mission. The vast expanse of the ocean and the cool night breeze did little to quiet the whirlwind of self-doubt swirling inside you.

The stars dotted the sky like tiny beacons, and the waves below gently lapped against the ship's hull, but none of it brought you peace. You wrapped your arms around yourself, tense and lost in thought, barely noticing the sound of footsteps approaching.

Jake emerged from the shadows, his silhouette becoming clearer in the soft glow of the ship's lights. He paused when he saw you, his brow furrowing with concern. He looked around, ensuring no one else was around, before walking over to you with determined but careful strides.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking the solitude with an edge of worry.

You hesitated, feeling foolish for bothering him. "I…I just can't stop thinking about everything that's been going wrong. I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Jake."

Jake's eyes softened, and he lowered himself to sit beside you on the cold metal deck. "Tell me more," he said gently, coaxing you to open up. His voice was so steady, so soothing, that you found yourself pouring out all your fears and anxieties—the relentless pressure, the fear of failure, the nagging feeling that you weren't good enough. With each word, you felt a weight lifting from your chest.

Jake listened without interrupting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an unwavering focus on you. His eyes never left your face, and his expression remained kind and attentive. "You know what I see when I look at you?" he said quietly once you had finished. "I see someone who's brave, who fights every day to be better, who cares deeply about others. You're stronger than you think, Y/N. Don't let those doubts control you."

His words felt like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your insecurities. When he reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes melted away your remaining doubts, leaving you wrapped in a cocoon of reassurance. Sitting there on the deck, under the endless sky, you felt profoundly grateful for Jake's unwavering support and the strength he helped you find within yourself.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

You also remember the time when you injured your ankle during a training exercise. You had insisted on limping back to your quarters, trying to maintain your independence. But Jake wouldn't hear of it. He had scooped you up without a second thought, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic gentleness. The entire trek back, he kept you engaged in light-hearted banter, ensuring your mind stayed off the pain.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

And how could you forget the morning he had brought you coffee? Not just any coffee, but a complex, personalized concoction—an oat milk latte with a shot of caramel, a pinch of cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg, and no foam. You hadn’t even mentioned it to him before. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," he had said nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But you knew the effort he had put into remembering such a detailed order, and it made your heart swell with an unfamiliar warmth.

These memories play in your mind like a cherished montage, each moment a testament to the man beneath the bravado. Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasn’t just the cocky pilot everyone else saw. He was a protector, a confidant, a friend who cared deeply for you, even if you had been too blind to see it before.

Returning back to the present moment amidst the lively ambiance of the Hard Deck, surrounded by the warmth of friends and laughter, you notice Jake returning from the restroom. As your eyes meet, his familiar smirk emerges, but this time there’s a tender softness in his gaze that you hadn’t noticed before—or perhaps, hadn't allowed yourself to see.

“Miss me?” he jokes, sliding back into the chaos of pool cues and friendly banter.

You chuckle, shaking off the speculative thoughts. “Like a bad habit, Seresin.”

But later, as the night winds down and the camaraderie ebbs into a quieter hum, you catch yourself glancing his way more often. The teasing remarks of your friends aren’t so easily dismissed anymore. And as Jake catches your gaze across the room, you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might be onto something.

Because sometimes, the most significant realizations are the ones that had been right in front of you all along, masked by the comfort of friendship and the chaos of duty.

You smile to yourself, feeling an inexplicable warmth. Maybe it was time to see what was beyond the camaraderie, to delve into the possibilities of what if. The thought lingers, like an unopened letter, waiting for the right moment.

For now, you return to the laughter and games, but with a new awareness, a curiosity that couldn’t be easily shaken. One thing was for sure—things were going to get interesting.

-

Text divider credits: @bunnysrph

[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   

[bo0tleg]

Decided to make one of these for Top Gun: Maverick too, you know... to dispel the pain I caused with my last post...

(this is my whatsapp history, not direct quotes from the movie)

(in the first one, I'm aware it looks like There's a 30 min gab between both messages. There is not, my internet just decided that they were going to let me see the message 30 min later)

[averagewriter-inthedark]

His Reason to Fanboy 🦸‍♀️ | Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia imagine

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x MovieStar!reader (romantic) Dagger squad (platonic), Marvel actors (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, slight profanity, pop culture references, timeline events not completely in order | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: about 7k

Requested 📨 yes/no for Anonymous (tagging @eternalsams though cause I know how much you love Mickey <3)

Premise: Little was known about the private life of energetic WSO Mikey 'Fanboy' Garcia to his fellow Top Gun alum. He was a walking encyclopedia when it came to all thing's superheroes and Hollywood's biggest stars. So it's the biggest surprise of their lives when the face behind his call sign Fanboy is revealed after years of wondering who claimed his heart when he was just a teenager.

Note: gosh writing this reminded me how much i love writing famous!reader x dagger pairings. this was so fun and long awaited so big apologies to the person who requested this last summer 🥰🥹. I hope it was worth the wait and I did it justice!! 🫶🏼

----------

If there is one thing the Dagger squad knows about their energetic WSO, Mickey Garcia, it’s that he lives up to his callsign Fanboy. Everyday they bear witness to his knowledge of all things superheroes and who’s dating who in Hollywood. The man’s apartment--or dorm on base depending on where he is--gives away all his interests and pop culture loves. Anyone who becomes friends with Mickey would have no trouble finding a birthday gift. There'd be endless ideas. 

Each room of his home had its own theme. Go to the bathroom and you’re hit with his love for Star Wars. Doctor Who memorabilia coats his kitchen. Then his living room looks straight out of Avengers tower. Throughout the apartment there’s knick knacks from attending a multitude of conventions, including a wall dedicated to signed pictures and movie posters. 

“Damn, Garcia,” Hangman whistles, roaming the vast collection. “You sure are a collector.” The WSO laughs, waltzing to his fridge to collect a case of beers for the squad. 

“My pride and joy.”

“I can see that,” Jake stops in front of a glass case filled to the brim with Funko Pops and figurines. One striking detail was the majority being characters of a certain actress hot in the Hollywood scene. “I see you also got a crush on Y/n L/n.” 

The name sent a large smile on Mickey’s face, filling his chest with warmth and butterflies, though his friends were too occupied to notice. “You can say that.” 

“C’mon, Mickey!” Y/n shouted at him from the sidewalk, waving a hand frantically toward the movie theater. “We’re gonna miss it!” It was a packed house, Mickey weaving through a horde of people after his mother dropped him off, promising to pick the two teenagers once the film ended. Listed in bold letters on the showings were “Spider-Man 2”, along with several others but they didn’t matter to them. They were there for the newest Spider-Man, having anticipated it all year.

Y/n stood with a cross body bag filled with candy, holding up the tickets. “You’re lucky I already got our seats.” Mickey fell into step as she led them inside, rolling his eyes playfully.

“At the very least we’d miss the previews, Y/n.” He held the door open, “not the end of the world.” 

“Speak for yourself,” she teased, thanking him in the process. Together they beelined for the concessions. With a soda and popcorn bucket in their hands the teens made it to their seats right as the lights dimmed. Y/n visibly excited during the trailers for National Treasure, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Then when it came time for the movie to start, she barely touched the popcorn. Leaving Mickey to enjoy it for himself. They shared candy and gasps during intense scenes. 

When the film ended the teens made their way out immersed in a debrief, “Harry is going to be a problem in the next one,” Y/n predicted with confidence, “Now that he knows Peter is Spider-Man, he’s gonna go after him to avenge his father.” The girl threw her hands up, “Which wasn’t even his fault!” 

Mickey laughed, popping a few leftover skittles in his mouth, “I’m kinda sad about Octavius. He had a change of heart in the end.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. They walked in the direction of the Dairy Queen next to the theater. Craving some ice cream while they waited for Mickey’s mom. “I hope one day I can be in one.” Mickey peered at her, frowning at her tone which was a mix of longing and sadness.

“A superhero movie?” 

“Any movie really,” she chuckled, pushing her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket. “A superhero one would be amazing--just because I love them so much.” Since they became friends at eight years old and their shared interest in comics, Y/n and Mickey watched pretty much every superhero movie to exist. Only when they turned 10 did their parents allow them to go to the theaters on opening weekend with supervision. It was the past year they were able to go alone now that they were fifteen and in high school.

Living in California, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Y/n had always had a desire to go into acting. Begging her family to take her to auditions. Which was difficult considering they had full time jobs. Y/n’s mother a paralegal and her father a mechanic. When Y/n turned 10 her parents agreed to take her to commercial auditions on weekends. She landed several jobs, including ones for well known brands like Coca-Cola, Cheerios, and Motarola to promote their new phone. Children's toys, and hotel marketing. Recently came guest roles on popular tv-shows, like That’s So Raven, House, and voice acting on Danny Phantom. She had her agent to thank for that. 

But she was itching for that big break.

“You’ll make it, Y/n,” Mickey put his arm around her shoulder, the girl leaning in. “You’re the most ambitious, hard-driven, working person I’ve ever met. You’ve got family and friends who support you. An agent who cares about you.” If there was one thing he was right about it was her support team. Y/n’s agent Tanya had been with Y/n for two years and worked endlessly to secure her projects. The two were introduced in 2002 shortly after Y/n had a small role of a young vampire in Queen of the Damned. Her first feature debut, but it was so small she wasn’t listed on the credits. 

Tanya believed in Y/n more than anyone else. She was the reason Y/n appeared on more tv-shows than commercials within the last two years. While getting movie roles proved difficult, Tanya was determined and had Y/n pumping out auditions left and right. 

Mickey squeezed her shoulder gently, adding a friendly kiss to her cheek that made her heart flutter. “It’ll happen.You just have to be patient.” 

If only the two had made a bet that day. Mickey never lost faith in Y/n’s potential. And when they finally entered a relationship junior year after years of mutual pining it only heightened. They both attended University of Southern California, Y/n pursuing acting while Mickey studied aeronautical engineering. While finishing high school, Y/n auditioned consistently for L.A productions, accumulating credits on Constantine (which had her loss for words getting to work with Keanu Reeves), Ugly Betty, Bring It On: All or Nothing, and her personal favorite, X-Men: The Last Stand. Then in 2006 she had credits on Transformers, Knocked-Up, and Freedom Writers which were released in 2007. Those roles would benefit her in the years to come for the connections she made with co-stars. 

Her building resume those years resulted in Y/n getting that big break she dreamed off. One crisp January day in 2007, having just wrapped on a guest appearance on Suite Life of Zack & Cody, Y/n received a call from Tanya. Changing the trajectory of her career forever. 

“I’ve got you an audition to play Robert Downey Jr.’s daughter in this new Iron Man production.”

Y/n literally spit out her soda, choking as she tried to say, “I’m sorry, did you say Iron Man.” Of course she heard correctly, but Y/n being the massive comic fan she had to be sure. 

“Yes,” Tanya chuckled, Y/n could hear her typing away on her laptop. “I’m emailing you the scene--you’ll read for Jon Favreau, Kevin Feige and the casting director. There’s a chance Robert might be there for you two to do a chemistry read.” 

Y/n rushed to her laptop, nearly running into the wall of her dorm when she cut the corner too fast. The *ding* of the email coming through sounded, Y/n sliding into her chair at a rapid speed to open the document and print it out. 

“So you’ll do it?” Tanya’s voice reminded the girl she was still on the phone. 

“Where do I meet you?”

Now if Y/n were being honest, she wasn’t too confident of her chances of getting the role. It was the inaugural film of this highly anticipated Marvel franchise. Not to mention an L.A set so who knows how many up and coming actors are fighting for a spot. Y/n knew her odds were slim. But she was going to give the best damn performance ever. 

She planned to tell Mickey about the audition once she knew the outcome. As much as she loved and trusted him and his faith in her, Y/n didn’t want to disappoint him. Not that she ever could, Mickey adored her and supported everything she did. But since he loved superheroes as much as her, this was important to him as well.

The audition process was a long and painful process. Following the initial reading, Y/n had been called back four more times as the team narrowed down their choices. They did several scenes, particularly the ones with Robert since the character would be on screen with him the most. Each time Y/n read with Robert it was nerveracking, but she handled it well and really put her acting capabilities to the test. The man complimented her after every session to which she was grateful for. It boosted her confidence. Even if she didn’t get the role, Y/n was thankful for the experience and hoped to work with Robert in the future. 

After a grueling month-long process, Y/n received the call she’d been waiting for. From Kevin Feige himself. “We want you to be our Jordyn Stark.” It took everything in Y/n to hold back her screams of joy. Releasing them the second they ended the call. She nearly woke up the entire dorm hall, thankfully no cops were called. 

Mickey was over the moon when she told him the news. Jumping from his side of the booth to pull her up into a massive hug. Kissing all over her face, “Oh my God this is amazing!! You’re gonna be a superhero--I knew you could do it! Holy shit!” They looked like little kids in a candy store, bouncing up and down in a fit of excitement.

Proud of his girlfriend, Mickey dragged her to the nearest comic store. Purchasing a comic that featured her character and figurine. “Will you do me the honor,” he held up a sharpie, grinning at the look of joy on her face, “of signing this for me. I want to be the first person to have THE Jordyn Stark aka THE Iron Lady,” he winked, and finished, “aka THE Y/n L/n’s autograph.” 

Tears formed in her eyes. Both from the overwhelming amount of happiness and because of Mickey’s whole show. People passing by gave confused looks, unaware the girl was about to become the face of a whole generation. 

Iron Man’s release sparked a new era in Hollywood. Marvel Studios got the green light to begin plans for a whole phase of projects in the universe. Reception to Y/n’s performance of Jordyn Stark was well received. Fans and critics praised her, fellow actors committing she was the scene stealer. 

Rosario Dawson, a massive comic book fan, stated in an interview when asked if she saw Iron Man, “Are you kidding? I saw it three times in theaters--I was blown away! And the girl who played Tony’s daughter, I believe Y/n is her name, oh my gosh she was amazing,” the woman talked with her hands, “Every scene she was in had me either laughing, on the edge of my seat, or simply going ‘wow, this girl is talented’. She matched Robert’s energy on screen so you’d think they are a father-daughter duo in real life.” 

Samuel L. Jackson, who would go on to be Y/n’s co-star in future Marvel films and Hollywood projects, said, “Look I don’t say this lightly, but that girl is gonna go places. And to think this is her first big supporting role in a motion picture!” He smiled brightly, “what a talent.”

Y/n was full of excitement, not hesitating to sign her name on the dotted line for a multi-picture contract--but not before her agent and lawyer read over it. The success she garnered from Iron Man occurred rather quickly. In the following year Y/n found herself attending award shows for the first time. Winning Best Supporting Actress in an Action Movie, Best Scene Stealer, Best Duo with Robert Downey Jr. and Best Breakthrough Actress at the MTV Movie Awards. She also won her category for the Kids Choice and Teen Choice Awards. 

Before long her agent was blowing up her phone. Iron-Man 2, 3 and The Avengers were already accounted for and Y/n wanted to lengthy her filmography to prevent being typecast. Obviously she loved Superhero/Action movies, but she desired to be a versatile actress. Countless auditions, but Y/n soon became a staple name in the early 2010s with performances in Tron: Legacy, Black Swan, Insidious, Grown Ups, Contagion, teaming up again with RDJ and Jude Law in Sherlock Holmes. Then in 2012-2014 Y/n added Men In Black 3, The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Enemy, The Hunger Games: Mockinjay and Interstellar to her list. Working with amazing directors and popular franchises pushed her into international stardom. Plus making lifetime collaborations. 

Oh, and can’t forget being nominated for Best Supporting Actress at the Oscars and Golden Globes. Winning the latter and making Y/n one of Hollywood's most desired acts. Now whenever she appears in a project, the Golden Globe Winner precedes her name.

And Mickey was there every step of the way. He was living his dream of working in aviation, completing OTS and flight school to become a weapons-specialist officer in the Navy. The backseater to the pilot, but just as important. Y/n was beyond proud. Thinking of all those times Mickey randomly gave plane facts or begged her to go to the air show in high school. Anytime she traveled and saw a figurine of a plane he was missing from his collection she got it. Luckily the Navy kept him on the west coast. Making it easier to see each other during her days away from set. He loved his job. And Y/n loved him. 

Maintaining a relationship while in high-demand careers was no easy task. Especially when one’s a movie star and the other goes on classified missions for the government. Add on the fact they wanted to keep their private life a secret to prevent media scrutiny. Y/n worried in the beginning Mickey would view it negatively. Not posting about him on social media or bringing him to premiers and award shows. Like he was some dirty secret. But Mickey, the wonderful man he is, never was bothered. In fact he liked the idea. 

They talked consistently, sometimes everyday unless they were occupied with work. Y/n kept him updated on every audition. Sharing the excitement with him each role she landed and comforted by his voice when rejected. And while he didn’t go to the premieres, Mickey was at every opening weekend for her movies. Dragging his friends along each time. It’s no surprise he earned the callsign Fanboy for his endless passion for movies. Specifically the superhero ones. While drunk the first weekend in flight school he gave the entire lore of the current MCU projects. To anyone he would just be labeled a superfan. Unaware of the true reason behind his love for the MCU. 

The mid-to-late 2010s did not disappoint. Y/n’s contract for the MCU extended as Jordyn Stark became a prominent figure in the franchise. And with her strong chemistry and bonds, Y/n collaborated with several of her Marvel co-stars in projects outside of the MCU. Jeremy Renner in Arrival, working with Denis Villenueve again starring in his Enemy and Sicario. Brie Larson in Room, Tom Hiddleston in Crimson Peak. Both of whom, with Samuel L. Jackson, starred in Kong: Skull Island with Y/n. She worked with Tessa Tompson in Annihilation--who would go on to cite inspiration from Y/n’s performance in MIB when she joined the franchise in 2019. Then after working with him in Men in Black 3, Y/n teamed up alongside Josh Brolin in Sicario, Deadpool 2, and eventually parts 1 & 2 of Denis’ adaptation of Dune. 

“Oh she’s one of my favorite people to work with,” Josh said during the press tour for Endgame after the interviewer mentioned all the times the two collaborated. “I had first seen her in Freedom Writers back in 2007 and thought she was just spectacular. Then of course in Iron Man, what can I say,” he shrugged while beaming, “It’s because of her and Downey that we have the MCU in the first place. They really set it in motion and to capture that feeling of, ‘this is going to be something’ so early on is incredible.” Josh crossed his legs, grinning wide as he added, “I love working with Y/n, I’ll say yes to any project if she’s attached and I’m excited for this next thing we got going with Denis after this.”

Besides movies Y/n continued to land jobs on shows whenever she was back in L.A. Tanya, her agent with an iron fist, booked her guest appearances on The Good Place, Black Mirror, Hannible, and The Americans. Her gig on Daredevil stirred major discourse in the Marvel community. Especially after it was announced years later the MCU would be buying the rights to the Netflix Marvel productions. In 2017 she had a recurring role as part-time companion to the 12th Doctor on Doctor Who. Becoming a fan favorite, the actress was constantly asked by fans and reporters if she had plans to return for the upcoming 60th Anniversary special. Y/n enjoyed her time in England and met up with several friends. Christopher Nolen, in fact, had called her up with the offer of a role in his upcoming work, Tenet. 

How could she pass that up?

2019 from the start was going to be an interesting year for the actress. At the height of her career Y/n felt the train was non-stopping. Traveling around the world. Press tours and interviews. Finding time to decompress was a task in itself. In between projects Y/n visited Mickey at his base in Northern California. Just like old times they’d go to the movies together. Only in disguise to hide from fans and the paparazzi. Sometimes they’d see her movies--usually at Mickey’s request, but Y/n always felt weird watching herself on screen. She’d think after over fifteen years in the industry she’d be used to it, but nevertheless she’d tend to think, ‘I could’ve done that better,’ with every scene. 

By September of that year Y/n was gearing up for a major project with longtime friend and collaborator, Denis Villenueve. Endgame had taken over the globe, concluding 10 years of buildup between characters and storylines. Tears upon tears were shed at the premiere. Unsure of what Marvel had planned for Jordyn Stark, Y/n prepared for the next chapter in her career. On top of Endgame she’d been in Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and the rom-com, Isn’t It Romantic. She’d signed on for a three-picture deal with Deadpool, but now he was also going to join the MCU, so the future of her character was in question. Ryan, however, assured her she’d remain in the universe, already texting plans of potential dialogue and jokes. 

Then there were countless interviews and promos.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n!” her excited tone was directed to the camera, sitting criss crossed on a pastel purple fabric that lifted into the backdrop. “And I’m here with Buzzfeed to answer some questions sent in from Twitter and play with puppies.” She rubbed her hands together, “Bring them in!”

Dream come true if she were being honest. Surrounded by tiny four-legged creatures that caused her heart to sour. Answering the questions was actually the difficult part, pulling the slips of paper from the bowl and reading aloud, ‘What has been your favorite role to play?’

“This is probably obvious,” her laugh was light and genuine, “but it has to be the one, the only, the absolute icon herself, Miss. Jordyn M. Stark.” Y/n visibly awed as a beagle pup climbed into her lap. “Anyone who knew me growing up--.” she instantly thinks of Mickey, smile widening, “knows my love for superheroes and comics in general. I was always at the movies opening weekend, sometimes even opening night, to watch the newest release. Getting to play Jordyn Stark has been an absolute dream come true. Not only has it fulfilled a longtime aspiration of wanting to play a superhero, but it’s opened the door to so many opportunities,” she points out the obvious, “she put me on the map. It’s crazy to think it’s been over a decade since I brought Jordyn to life on the big screen and until Marvel lets me know what’s next for her, it’s a bittersweet end to an amazing chapter in my life.”

‘What’s been the most challenging part of your career?’

Y/n thinks for a moment, petting the husky pup biting her shoelaces, “I think having to migrate from what my life was like before booking Jordyn--which is ironic considering that’s what every actor's goal is. To get that big break that shoots them into stardom if you say…” her hands move to emphasize her point. “Going from a freshman in college working a part-time job at a hotel and getting tiny gigs on L.A productions,” she lifts her left hand up, then her right, “to the train never reaching its stop…it was a big shift. I definitely was the type of actor calling up co-stars with questions like, ‘is it always like this?’” she ends it with a chuckle, “I think I managed it well, but I still think about it from time to time.”

‘Favorite actor/actresses to work with?’

She doesn’t hesitate, “Downey of course, that’s my ride or die. His name on my phone is literally, ‘Work Father/Iron Dad’.” She laughs with the crew, “And Josh Brolin--love that man so much. I’ll actually be seeing him soon and I’m excited to catch up.” A pup barks for attention and Y/n lifts him in her arms, “I love working with Tessa Tompson. She and I got close on set during Avengers and I gave her advice on joining the Men In Black family. If there’s one actress I’d love to work with again it would be Viola Davis.” Y/n clutches a hand to her chest, “We had to do so many scenes over because I could not stop staring at her in awe and would miss my cue or forget my line. Ah! I was so embarrassed--but she was great about it and I freakin’ love her. I really really adore Keanu Reeves--in fact,” a wink is sent to the camera, “I might actually have some exciting news to share soon regarding a certain action franchise he’s in.” Seconds after the interview was released Twitter was buzzing. Excited about the potential of Y/n joining the John Wick series.

‘Is there another superhero, or possibly villain, you’d be interested in playing on the big screen?’

“Ooo I like this question,” Y/n grins, clapping a bit only to have the puppy in her lap playfully take a bite at her fingers. “As I mentioned I love comic books, so any chance to play a character in one I’m taking. If I had to choose….” she scratches her chin before smirking, “Poison Ivy is one of my favorites from DC--if I were to play her alongside Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn I think that would be so iconic. I’d love to play a villian/anti-hero in general,” she shrugs nonchalantly. “ The closest I got to playing one was Shock in Daredevil. Every other character in a superhero setting I’ve done has been heroes. There’s so many villains in X-Men I think are intriguing--Dark Phoenix, Fatale, and Copycat. But for sure Poison Ivy is my top choice.”

‘Do you have any advice on romance?’

The question fills Y/n with heat, giggling under her breath which the camera catches. “I don’t think I’m the best to answer this question, because when it comes to romance I just wing it--,” her hands raise in defense, “which had worked to my advantage.” The topic of relationships was rare for Y/n. No surprise there since she’s been known to keep her private life private her entire career. Not to mention she’d been with Mickey for half her life. “My partner on the other hand is very romantic. He loves to plan dates, surprise me with my favorite candy, and will send memes at the most random times of the day because they remind him of me. He’s not in the industry,” she is quick to point out, giving viewers a first time look of her personal life, “but he knows a lot and is my biggest supporter. I love him dearly.”

The video went viral on twitter and, as expected, people had a lot to comment on the clip of Y/n’s love life. 

@/Lokidarling: awed so many times watching @/SuperY/n talk about her partner. I hope to love someone like that one day.

@/TheDoctorsWife: So we can all agree Y/n L/n’s partner is the luckiest man on the planet. 

@/MTV: currently sobbing that our wife @/SuperY/n is off the market.

@/Slick_like_AgentK: @/SuperY/n heard the rumors about her and Sebastian Stan and said ‘NOT TODAY!’

 In the weeks leading to fall Y/n made plans to read Dune at Denis’ request. Had auditions lined up for Succession, Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and The School for Good & Evil. And desperately needed time with her fiance. The two recently engaged following their 30th birthday. 

Technically they were legally married under California’s common law. They’d been together since 16 and while no rings were on their fingers, they had assets. Including cars, apartments, and dogs. Still they wanted a wedding and proper marriage documents. Both agreed to sign each other's prenup. A scene almost comical when they approached both their lawyers, who along with their families and Y/n’s agent knew of their relationship. 

Admittedly, the engagement was a result of upcoming events. Ever since Mickey informed her of his orders to return to Top Gun for a classified mission Y/n had been stressed. Thoughts plagued her mind of the dangers Mickey could face. Not just the mission but the training itself. She’d heard of incidents of technical malfunctions in the air that led to someone’s death. The thought of Mickey hurt or worse, dead, in the line of duty was her worst nightmare. And since she was not his wife, medical professionals were required to not share any information of his status if he were admitted. 

So before he shipped out, they did what the typical military couple does on a time crunch: they went to the courthouse. 

Did Y/n’s publicist bribe and threaten to sue the official if TMZ got word? Only God bore witness to that interaction. 

By the grace of a higher spirit Mickey came home to her. They had little to no contact while he was off shore so the second he called her up saying he was back in Fightertown Y/n was packing a bag. Speeding down the next morning. 

Their time together was private, and unbeknownst to both it would be the last. In a sense that is. 

Because they pulled off the impossible, Mickey and the rest of the Dagger Squad were declared an official strike squad for the Pentagon, basing the team at Fightertown. A good thing for the couple. Now instead of a four-hour drive it was cut down to just over two hours. 

“How long will you be gone?” He brushed his fingers down the length of her arm, the two cuddled on the couch watching The Bachelorette. 

“A few months,” was her reply, nibbling on a twizzler. Sighing, she nuzzled against his touch, not wanting to think about the long flight to Budapest ahead of her. She’d planned to use that time to read Dune before her first day on set. “Maybe less if all goes well. How long will you be offshore?” Y/n referred to his pending mission with the Dagger Squad. She felt him shrug against her.

“I’d say no more than a couple weeks. Rooster is team leader and Mav’s supervisor. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Tilting her head up to look at him, Y/n smiled, “I want to meet your friends. They sound like great people.”

“They are,” Mickey grinned, matching her gaze, “You’d love them--but I have to warn you they can be a handful. Especially Javy.” He laughed as the memory popped in his head, “It’s amazing we can get stuff done at times.”

Y/n thought for a moment, laying her head back on his shoulder, “Maybe when I get back we can talk about going public. What do you think?” her tone was nervous, butterflies in her stomach for his reaction. This was the first time in a while the idea of disclosing their relationship came up. And considering they were now legally married, keeping it secret was harder by the day.

Mickey tightened his hold around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. It made her instantly relax, “Whatever you want, mi amor.” He smiled at her sigh of relief, “You know I won’t object--so long as you’re sure about it.”

“I am,” she doesn’t hesitate, “we’ve kept it hidden for so long--which I’m amazed by with all the times we’ve gone out.” The fact her disguises worked made her laugh any time she thought about it. “Everyone at Marvel pretty much had their suspicions that I was in a serious relationship. Never said anything, which I’m grateful for. But I want to share you with the world,” leaning back up, Y/n cups his cheek, stroking his jaw followed by a sweet kiss to the lips, “because you are my world.”

If only there was a camera secretly concealed in Mickey’s apartment the day his closest friends discovered the secret he’d been harboring. It happened unexpectedly, completely taking them both off guard. 

Wanting to surprise Mickey after months away filming, Y/n arrived in San Diego with their favorite take out in hand and headed straight to his apartment. As she was taking the items from her car she noticed a man with a very large camera across the street. 

Pointing the lens straight at her.

“Fuck,” was the first word out of her mouth, beginning to grab things in a rush.

“Y/n! Y/n over here!” 

Preparing herself, Y/n put on a brave face and turned on her heel. “Hello!” she smiled and waved, seeing the pap had moved closer but still kept his distance. “All I ask is please don’t take photos of my license plate, if you don’t mind.” Running into paparazzi while driving her own car always brought fear. Many celebrities had unfortunately dealt with fans showing up to their homes due to their license plate being leaked. Y/n tried her best to prevent that whenever she could.

Thankfully the gentleman was nice, waving a hand in return. “No problem!” He continued snapping pictures as she walked, following behind several paces. When she got inside, without her usual disguise because she was in a rush, Y/n caught the stunned expression of the doorman and receptionist. ‘Cat’s out of the bag.’

Ruffling for her key once in the elevator, Y/n shot a quick text to her agent and publicist, ‘sooooo we might have a problem…although it's not the worst if we’re being real.’ Quickly putting her phone back in her bag to not see the incoming replies--to spare herself the stress--Y/n hurried to the apartment. Not even giving Mickey a warning before she busted inside only to shock herself with the discovery of people inside.

“Oh my,” she said aloud, hearing the sound of someone dropping their phone followed by several gasps and a ‘what the fuck?’.

Mickey, however, was jumping from his seat, “Baby!” he shouted in glee, rushing to encompass her in a massive bear hug. Completely oblivious to the fact his friend's jaw dropping reactions behind him. “When did you get it? Just now? I thought you were coming on Monday!” 

Wrapping her arms around him, Y/n remembers why she was there in the first place. “I wanted to surprise you,” lips meet her cheek. “I brought Sambino’s.”

Mickey moans like he just won the lottery, cupping her face, “You are a living angel. How did I get so lucky?” 

Smirking, Y/n hands him the bag as they untangle and replies, “You didn’t make fun of me for being the only girl in our third grade class who liked comics.” She scrunches her nose when he ‘boops’ it, followed by a quick kiss to the lips. 

By now the group taking up the entire living room had stood up, congregating in the kitchen. All wore matching expressions: flabbergasted, awe, and pure confusion. The man closest to Mickey who towered over everyone spoke first.

“Garcia,” Payback choked out a laugh, wrapping his head around the fact he just witnessed his partner kiss THE Y/n L/n. His hand waved in their direction, “When you said you and your highschool sweetheart preferred to keep a low profile…her being the actress you’re obsessed over was not at all what I had in mind.”

Jake scoffed, “speak for yourself, I thought he was bullshitting us about having a high-school sweetheart,” at Mickey’s look of offense he raised his hands in defense, “What? You hardly ever spoke of her and quite frankly--” hands wave around the place, “you have no pictures whatsoever.” 

“Oh I do,” The WSO winds an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, to which she leans into. “Just they’re in photo albums and kept in a safe place. Away from prying eyes.” A playful smack hits his chest, Y/n rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Javy cuts in with a confused chuckle. “Are we just going to ignore the fact we’re in the presence of an A-list actress--who is dating our Fanboy.”

Bob gives a friendly smile, “that makes sense why he’s always talking about the MCU and seems to know the direction it’s going before we do.” The fellow WSO then adds after chucking, “it’s because you’re really a big fan of Y/n.”

Rooster belts out a laugh, “Yo that’s kinda ironic. Fanboy dating his celebrity crush he never shuts up about. I couldn’t have predicted that at all.”

“Dating is putting it lightly,” Y/n finally speaks up, face full of amusement. Placing a hand on Mickey’s chest, their attention instantly goes to the ring on her finger. 

“Well shit,” Jake whistles, causing Nat to nudge him with her elbow, though she matched his stunned expression.

“Damn, Garcia!” Javy goes to dab him up. Reuben does the same while saying, “Congrats man!” 

“I know we may look like we’re calm,” Natasha chuckles, catching Y/n’s attention which makes her become nervous. “But I think I can confidently say for all of us we're freaking out inside--at least I know I am.” the pilot blushes, stunned to be talking to one of her favorite actresses of all time. The previous night she literally sat down to watch How to Get Away With Murder. Particularly the season Y/n was a recurring character on. 

The squad knew Mickey grew up in the same town as Y/n after he mentioned the high school he attended in Orange County. It had been the first time they hung out at his apartment where they saw his entire collection--and pretty much shrine--dedicated to his favorite franchises. Following Jake’s comment of Mickey’s little ‘crush’, the WSO casually said, “Yeah, you can say that. We actually went to high school together.” This was then followed by Mickey whipping out his sophomore year book to show proof. Ever since the squad was envious and sometimes tried to ask questions but were brushed off.

But to discover the two were married? Now that was unexpected.

Once everyone departed after several hours of giving detailed accounts of their lives--plus mentioning to Mickey a Pap had spotted her and the likelihood of the internet discovering their relationship--,Y/n let out a heavy breath, unable to fight the grin off her face. Giggling when Mickey gave her a look of ‘What did you think?’ “That was fun--Ah!.” A squeal escaped her as he picked her up, spinning them in a circle.

“Been wanting to do that since you walked through the door,” he brought her into a passionate kiss, setting her down but keeping their chests pressed together.

“Why didn’t you?” she teased, kissing him again while combing her fingers through his short hair. A blush rose on his cheeks.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she spoke with honesty, “but I understand. We were both surprised. I wasn’t expecting an audience--probably should’ve sent you a heads up.” Mickey shrugged, swaying them side to side.

“Honestly I’m glad you didn’t,” a light laugh escaped him, picturing his friends' faces once again. “If there was one way I was going to break the news to the squad that I'm married to the woman I keep dragging them to the movies to see, it would be like that.” 

Y/n broke into giggles, thinking to all those times Mickey sent her photos of him and his friends in the theater with captions like, ‘You already know what’s going down.’ ‘Jake and Javy are trying to bet who would pull you if they got the chance.’ ‘Wish you were here…so I could steal your sour patch kids.’ 

“Which, speaking of….” Mickey stepped back a bit, hands landing on her waist with eyes full of wonder and question. “How do you think we go from here? Now that the whole world is about to know about us?”

Y/n smiled brightly as she pictured the future. Moving her arms to wind around his neck, feeling her belly fill with warmth and happiness. 

“I think….it’s time we plan that wedding.” 

E! News reported that evening, “It looks like Bruce Wayne isn’t the only superhero who’s good at hiding information--tonight Golden Globe winning actress Y/n L/n has confirmed via Instagram her marriage to longtime partner, Naval Weapons Officer Lieutenant Mickey Garcia. Turns out the two have been in a relationship since they were teenagers--sixteen to be exact! They officially became a couple in 2005 as juniors in high school and have kept it hidden from the limelight. Wow! Talk about a well kept secret. 

“The news came following reports of Y/n spotted in San Diego several times outside of Garcia’s apartment complex. Photos then surfaced on Twitter of several occurrences where fans have speculated seeing the two in public. Cozying up at movie theaters, enjoying a weekend getaway to Hilton Head, and internet sleuths have even found an instagram account they believe is run by L/n strictly for close friends and family. Former classmates of the 30-year-old actress have come out saying they remember the two together like peas in a pod. We even have a photo someone shared of the young couple attending their high school prom. Y/n revealed in the summer of 2019 she’d been in a committed relationship, but has never given details until now.

“Y/n L/n first got her big break in Hollywood at eighteen years old when she was casted as heroine Jordyn Stark opposite Robert Downey Jr. in Iron Man. After years of small supporting roles and starring in popular commercials, the now critically acclaimed actress has appeared in several blockbuster films including Black Swan, Interstellar, La La Land and most recently Greta Gerwig’s Little Women. Besides Marvel, Y/n has been part of multi-billion dollar franchises--Men In Black, The Twilight Saga and The Hunger Games just to name a few. Then in 2016 she won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal as DEA Agent Molly Coleman in Denis Villenueve’s Sicario. Coming down from the high of Marvel Studios record breaking release of Avengers: Endgame, Y/n recently wrapped on the upcoming sci-fi production of Dune--her fourth collaboration with Denis and has an ensemble cast with names like Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Fergason, and Josh Brolin.

“In her instagram post--featuring several photographs of the couple over the years starting from when they were children to the most recent of their courthouse ceremony--Y/n thanked Mickey for his continued love and support of her, remaining her quote “cheerleader and shoulder to cry on as I progressed through this wild journey of playing dress up on the big screen. You never lost faith in me. You stood by my side, first as my best friend, then as my boyfriend, and now as my life partner. I am forever grateful for you, Mickey Garcia. And while the Navy may have given you the name, It’s an honor to be your reason to fanboy.”

..........

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

[mynameismckenziemae]

Hi.

Pretty much everything I post/write/reblog is for adults (18+). If you are under 18, you shouldn’t be here.

MDNI! Ageless/nameless blogs will be blocked.

*I do not consent to my work being copied, translated or published elsewhere.*

I’m McKenzie.

I write Top Gun Maverick (for now at least). None of the characters are mine.

Comments/likes/reblogs/feedback of any kind is appreciated, but please be kind (I’m sensitive 🥺).

Send me an ask if you have any questions or requests.

My (even more so) NSFW side blog is: @mckenziemae-afterdark

Masterlist:

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin:

Outlet (oneshot)

Funny Business (oneshot)

Take It Right There (oneshot)

In Case You Didn’t Know (completed series)

All of Me (ongoing series)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw:

Intimate History (completed series)

I Love You Two (ongoing series)

Role Reversal (bonus scene for Intimate History but can be read alone as a oneshot)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd:

When the Stars Align (oneshot)

Underestimated (oneshot)

Picture Perfect (oneshot)

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone (completed series)

Who Do You Belong To? (oneshot)

Every Part of You (oneshot)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw:

She’s a Fire (completed series)

Paying For It (bonus scene for She’s a Fire, but can be read alone as a oneshot)

Unbroken (completed series)

A Little Bit Stronger (ongoing series)

Tyler Owens

Rum (oneshot)

Kinktober 2024

☝🏻Please let know if any of the links don’t work or are incorrect!

[planetpiastri]

congrats on returning to fic writing hehe! 💝 would u be able to do bouquet or pda from the valentines prompt list for fanboy? i love the way u write him

thank u anon!! i went with bouquet for this one bc i couldn't get one specific image out of my head lol. this was a lot of fun to write hope u enjoy! | [wc - 1.2k] | join my prompt party!

It wasn’t like Mickey to be late. I mean, with things like family brunches, or dinners, or group parties, yeah, sure, he wasn’t the most punctual. But with you it was different. With you, he was always right on time. No matter what.

But here it was, Valentine’s Day, and you were alone in your apartment, and he was late.

You knew that today was busy for him. He’d had brunch with his sisters, and then dinner with his parents across town, and after that he hadn’t been able to get out of going for a few beers with Hangman and the guys, but he’d promised to come over at nine o’clock on the dot. You guys didn’t even have anything particularly extravagant planned; probably just watching a movie and…well….

Anyways, it was nearly nine-fifteen now, and he was nowhere to be seen. An outgoing message sat in your thread, lonely and unread: Are you on your way? 

There was a heart-shaped box of chocolates open on the coffee table. There were chocolate-covered strawberries cooling in the fridge. You’d lit a couple candles. A stuffed teddy bear you intended to give to Mickey was sitting on the sofa next to you. She’s All That was queued up on the tv. Everything was ready. There was just one thing missing.

You checked your phone again even though it hadn’t buzzed. Still nothing.

It wasn’t like Mickey to be late.

As the clock ticked closer and closer towards nine-thirty, you contemplated calling him, decided against it, contemplated calling Natasha, decided against it, contemplated calling Hangman, and ultimately decided you just wanted to call it a night and be alone. You’d hear whatever apology Mickey had in the morning. Right now, you just wanted to go to bed.

You turned off the tv and blew out the candles, and just as you were moving to put the lid back on the chocolates, there was a pounding at your door so loud that you jumped.

You rushed to the foyer and yanked open the front door, an irritated admonishment prepared on your lips, but it fell away as soon as you saw who was there.

Mickey was standing in a nice jacket and jeans, his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He was panting like he’d just ran a marathon, and when you stuck your head farther out the door, you couldn’t see his car parked anywhere in the driveway or on the street.

“Mickey? What—?” you started to say, but then he straightened up and your voice trailed away once more.

“I’m…sorry…” He wheezed. “Hangman…stole…keys…wouldn’t let…me leave…. Ran…all the way…here…. I’m so sorry….”

And in his hand was a cluster of flowers that you recognized as belonging to your neighbor at the end of the street. They were wilted from his run, some snapped in the middle, but the sight of them nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

He looked at them, realized what poor shape they were in, and his face fell. “Oh no,” he sighed. “I wanted to—oof.”

You flung yourself into his arms, holding him close. He was warm from his run, and his chest was still heaving, but he was here. After a moment, you felt him toss the flowers down and wrap his arms around you, cradling you tightly against his chest.

“I thought you forgot,” you admitted quietly.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, his breath finally coming back. “This is all I’ve looked forward to all day.”

You stepped back, shoving his shoulder gently. “Why didn’t you call me when you knew you were gonna be late?”

Mickey blinked dumbly at you like a deer in headlights, and then his lips quirked sideways in an embarrassed smile. “Because…I’m an idiot? And I forgot? And was just focused on running as fast as I could?”

A laugh bubbled out of your chest of its own volition, and as Mickey smiled sheepishly, you grabbed his face in your hands and kissed him deeply. He made a soft, contented noise in the back of his throat, and his hands splayed across your spine, pulling you closer to him. One of your hands threaded through his close-cropped hair, holding his head in place as your mouths moved together, and you arched forward so that your chests were touching from shoulder to sternum.

He tilted his head and groaned, and your mouth fell open for him. One of his hands tightened at your waist, and the relief and affection you felt for him combined into something heady and intense, replacing every anxiety you had with insatiable want. 

You staggered backwards, pulling him with you into the house. He made a soft, surprised noise and broke away, saying, "But the flowers—"

"We'll get another bouquet later," you said, shutting the door. As soon as you did, his mouth was back on yours and his hands were tracing your sides, pressing you gently against the door.

You shoved his shoulders, pushing him deeper into the house without breaking contact. As the two of you careened off the walls and stumbled deeper into the living room, Mickey pulled away to glance around the room and catch his breath. He was already winded, but his eyes were bright and he was smiling as he panted, "Oh, hey, you decorated—”

You kissed him again, swallowing his words, and continued moving across the rug, pulling him by his shirt. He laughed against your lips, fumbling with his coat. When your legs hit the back of the sofa, you tumbled backwards onto the cushions, breaking away long enough for Mickey to finish taking off his jacket. 

You scooted back, giving him room to join you, and moved the teddy bear gingerly onto the table. Mickey’s eyes followed the movement, and he said, “Aw, is that for me?”

“Would you get down here?” you demanded, fighting back a laugh.

“Hold on, hold on, I haven’t taken my shoes off,” he protested, fumbling with the laces.

“Mickey,” you said, your voice stern.

He stood up and gestured around the room. “You set all this up! We had a nice evening planned. What about the movie?”

“Mickey,” you said slowly, leaning forward and enunciating clearly, “forget—the—movie.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyebrows lifting. And then, again: “Ohh.”

“Yes,” you said with a nod, grinning. “Oh.”

He leaned down and kissed you softly, his hand cradling the back of your head, but just as you reached up for the hem of his shirt, he pulled away again. You fought the urge to sigh heavily as he said, “I just ran, like, thirteen blocks. I’m gonna go clean up real quick, but then I promise—we’ll do Valentine’s right. I’ll make it up to you.”

He started down the hall towards the bathroom, already undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“Okay,” you said, dramatically falling back on the couch and watching him go. “I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer. I’ll just find some way to entertain myself.”

Mickey froze and turned to you, his hands stilling halfway through the buttons. When he saw the teasing smile on your face, he pointed an accusatory finger at you and said, “Thirty seconds. Time me.” Then he turned and ran into the hall, skidding into the bathroom and out of sight.

You threw your head back and laughed at his antics, reaching for the remote again as the faucet turned on. As you got comfortable on the sofa and waited for him to come back out, you thought of the flowers on the front stoop. 

It wasn’t like Mickey to be late, but he always found some way to make it up to you.

[senawashere]

Starting off to say, thank you for all the TGM and particularly Mickey Garcia content you are a heaven's sent for that! And I hope you are doing good.

I hope I'm correct to see your requests are open? And I was wondering if I could request a soft Fanboy x wife!reader. It can be literally about anything you want. Cause I would adore any kind of that!

Thank you so much for your time and fics lovely!

Hushed Affections.

Summary: Sleepy and tired.

A/N: It took me so long sorry😭

Warnings: Pure fluff,nudity(not sexual),kissing!!

Your eyes closed, you wrapped your arms around his torso, letting the warm water relax you as the gentle beat of his heart and his calm breathing soothed your body.

“Someone looks pretty tired too,” Mickey mumbled, his voice slow and calm even above you. “I think it’s time to get out of the shower.”

“Not as tired as you,” you were right, that much was understandable just by looking at him. “But yeah, we can just go to bed.” Your arms were over his as you looked into his tired eyes,his under eyes were bit dark. He was hot, but covered in a few drops of water, it was even hotter.

His hand brushed against your waist with a weak touch as you pulled the towel closer to you. Feeling his surroundings in slow motion, he did the same, smiling weakly, standing next to you as he watched you dry your body; the intimacy of the moment made him feel special to have you, and he knew it really was.

“Stop looking at me and change,you pervert!” You said in a high-pitched voice that made him laugh lazily. “Come on,husband, you need some sleep.” You added that you were ready to rest next to him after putting on your panties.

Wrapping his hair in a towel, you waited for him to put on his underwear, forcing him to do the same so that the hotel bathroom room wouldn’t get splashed with water. Still sleepy, he laid back on the soft bed and let out a pleasant groan.

“I got my hair dryer with me,” you mumbled, sitting down next to him, removing the towel from his hair, and plugging the dryer into the outlet next to the bed. You didn’t even need to bring the object, you were only going to spend a day with him there, but you knew Mickey would probably need it; his mood was always better in the morning, when his hair was good curly and free of sweat.

“You don’t have to,” he sighed so tiredly that he couldn’t keep his eyes open for you.

“It’s okay, I want to, I even got you some curl cream and moisturizer.” You sat down neatly next to him, actually on top of him, right on his lap, letting him know you were serious about taking good care of him by tapping your fingers on the bottles in your hands.

“I love you, baby,” he grumbled.

“I know,” you replied, awkwardly but effectively parting his hair to make it look presentable for tomorrow morning. You ran your hand through his curly hair, helping the dryer do its job, and then you brought your fingertips to his hairline, pressing down as you focused on giving him a good rub. With a deep, low sigh, you felt his body relax beneath you.

“That’s good,” he said at your touch, melting as he felt special locks being pulled between your fingers; his favorite thing to do was being played with his hair. “That’s too good.”

You dried his hair and played with it; it would be beautiful in the morning.

His baby skin was clearly visible now, kissable. “Baby,this is so amazing.”

‘“Stop talking, you need to focus on sleeping!”

“Huh, I can’t sleep because I want to fall asleep with you,” his words were muffled by your pillow, his mind seemed to dissolve in your hands. As you released his curls, he took your hand in his, kissing your skin and you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, but I would enjoy it even though I like you on top of me,” you chuckled. It warmed your heart to see him smile too; he showed off his beautiful teeth for you.

“Good,” you let your body fall to his side, one of your legs still wrapped around him as you pressed a kiss to his nose. “But just your eyes for now, please!” he grumbled, wrapping it around your waist as he waited for you to grab the moisturizer and run it over his eyes; your fingers were soft and warm against his skin, which resulted in the desire to touch you being louder than usual in his mind, pulling you closer to his body. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Finally,” his face fit into your chest; his hair brushed against your bare skin as you shifted to hold him tighter.

A stupid, lazy smile formed on his lips, his arms wrapping around you completely, feeling his warm breath coming out of his mouth and his touch. It was strange how being able to see him with your own eyes, and not just facetime or call, but seeing that he was okay, left you feeling so relaxed and at peace of mind.

“Stop looking at me, you creepy,” he mumbled, only then realizing he was actually looking at you. “Go to sleep, baby, you need some rest too.”

Still in a trance, you kissed his head and nodded, “sure, but only because I’ll be here all day tomorrow looking at you.” You added, thinking of his chuckle as your last moment before falling asleep that night.

“Good night my love.”

Squeek🥹 Thank you anon for this amazing idea!! Sending love🫶🏻

This is for you honey @eternalsams !!

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