#mickey you absolute dog trying to fuck your girl in your mother's house

[mxgyver]

I still cannot believe that my 7 bazillion questions about Fanboy y Cielo's holiday traditions led to this 🥹 I am so honored and in awe of the fact that you turned that, into this. my holiday loving, romantic af heart is yearning over all of this.

“Bien, mija,” she appraised, as Mickey sipped his punch from the corner he had been relegated to in the the kitchen, watching with honeymelt eyes as the women who shaped his past, his present, and – his eyes lingered over you – hopefully, his future, all worked in tandem to make homemade tamales. Gossipping away and giggling with each other as though you had been their friend for decades. 

oh 😭 something about Mickey seeing all of the important women is his life coming together, knowing deep down that this is it, this is all he wants in his life.

"You admired the hewn wood, popping the lid on the box to find a handful of recipe cards in what you recognized form letters and cards to be Mrs. Garcia’s handwriting.

“Just a few recipes for you – so the two of you can have them for your home. And start some of your own traditions.”

You thanked her, with teary eyes and a warm hug, all vestiges of worry set aside as you enmeshed yourself into the warm welcome of the Garcia home."

brb sobbing because this truly felt like Mrs. Garcia's way of fully making her apart of the family. because holy shit?? sharing family recipes with someone?? that requires a lot of love and trust. and I would be truly honored if my boyfriend's mother shared family recipes with me.

"And it was a cosmic, karmic collision – something in the stars, you think. Watching him play with Artoo, watching him eat his breakfast, watching him pluck packages from beneath the tree, ready to give to you. And maybe it was the magic of the holidays – that tinges everything in evergreen romance, warm and sweet and cinnamon. But you think, perhaps, that it will always feel this way with Mickey – as though he was the sunshine in your wintery sky, iridescent and luminous."

okay but Mickey having his moments of watching Cielo with his sisters & mama and then the roles being reversed now Cielo is watching him doing domestic homey things??? 😭 Mickey is so easy and so fun to love 😭

brb gonna go fall asleep thinking about how much I wish I was Cielo. brava my darling Rae, you've knocked it out of the park yet again.

mi media naranja [holiday!AU - mickey “fanboy” garcia x fem!reader, aka “cielo”]

A/N: For Fanboy’s fangirls - a holiday celebration with Fanboy y Cielo. Lots of callbacks to my original Fanboy HCs  – so if you’ve been following their journey thus far, there will be lots in here for you. Bonus points if you get the references! 

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: my writing is its own warning, smut, so 18+ ONLY – p in v sex, unprotected sex, v mild breeding kink, references to oral sex

Word Count: 5.8k of the warmth of a holiday spent together with your beloved, of chestnuts roasting on an open fire, of the cinnamon-orange passion of sharing half of yourself with someone else.

Summary: You spend your holidays with your sweet boyfriend. Mickey takes you home to visit his family, but of course, you make sure to indulge in the magic of the holiday, just the two of you [part of the Fanboy y Cielo ‘verse].

(moodboard courtesy of lovely @ouralcohol)

–

Divided holidays were a challenge. 

You and Mickey had opted to spend the few days preceding Christmas with his mother and his sisters, which meant, of course, holiday travel.

You’d left your beachside home in San Diego, packing gifts and luggage alike to make the trek to Mickey’s hometown. Artoo was set up with your friend for the few days you’d be gone. And it wasn’t as though you weren’t coming back in just a few days to celebrate Christmas with Mickey, just the two of you. It would go by in a flash. So why were you nervous?  

You had met his family before. And, of course, they’d never indicated anything other than that they’d liked you … Still, you’d felt the perpetual need to impress. To ensure that they still liked you, as though their opinion would have changed in the six months since you had seen them for the family’s summer beach weekend.

And the drive was pleasant enough, Mickey expressing to you ad nauseam that he was glad you were coming, 

“You don’t understand, cielo,” he urged. “Every time I talk to my tía it’s like – ‘¿Y tu novia? ¿Y tu novia?’” he parroted. “I swear, it’s like she’s convinced you don’t exist, even though my mom has literally met you.”

Keep reading

[deacied]

evening sun  .  //  one .

summary: messaging stupid things to your celebrity crush on instagram has no repercussions because it’s not like they’re going to read it anyway! obviously this doesn’t entail sexual harassment or general creepiness, but sending a meme they’d like or a picture or maybe something actually stupid like your phone number seems irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

or the one where you dm joe on instagram and your life actually changes

warnings: none other than like fluff 

word count: 1.7k

    she sends the stupidest message she has possibly ever typed in her entire life (eighth grade, angsty teen posts on myspace included) to him in the second week of march. the chances were low that he would open her dm, but he had been known to ever so often answer a handful at a time, and what did she have to lose if he did answer the message? she had sent him other things before as if he were her best friend, memes that reminded her of him or funny t-shirt ads, whatever it had been that she thought might have him grinning to himself--- however, clearly the response never-received wasn’t with this particular “friend”. she didn’t really know him, and he, blissfully unaware of her existence, yet she tried weakly to get the attention of him while he received thousands of others flooding his messages doing just the same. it was just a bit of fun really. a shirt that showed a t-rex wearing mickey ears, “wrong park!“ written across it had her laughing manically to herself before sending the post over to joe. she hoped she would see him in that shirt soon.

    it was a hopeless cause that, well, wouldn’t crush her if the odds weren’t in her favor. nearly a month after she had sent the stupidest message, a notification of a new text pings through her phone. a glance over to it only to be met with an unknown number loses her attention as quick as it held it. she yawns. the action comes of mainly boredom though sleepiness threatens to claw its way into dominance as the summer rain continues to pummel unto the roof, warm florida air shifting through the porch, and the novel in her hand losing focus. a nap would be good-- perfect actually.

    the crackle of lightning followed by a gargle of thunder shook her out of her sleep only an hour later and back into reality. every afternoon without fail, the casual shower of rain would pass over her family home just after three as if mother nature were taking her time with her garden. florida often promised hurricanes so the thunderstorms weren’t uncommon, but this particular one wasn’t supposed to hit until thursday, and with it being only tuesday, she knew this storm would last forever now: the earlier they came, the longer and harder they reined apparently. notifications sound off at a quick rate, though she easily dismisses it as something extraordinary going on in the group chat. trekking back into the house with book and phone in hand, her free fingers pass over her dogs’ heads as she passes them to head to her room. the thought of a shower to wash away the dampness from outside was the most ideal option she possessed, however, the implied doom her mother promised of a shower during a thunderstorm was the least. more notifications go off in time before she turns off the ringer entirely and plugs it into the charger. sixty-four (jesus) messages in the group chat on discord, another twenty-one from the same group on instagram, and god knows how many more on snapchat, but the one, singular cluster of notifications tucked at the bottom that held her interest had her pausing with head tipping in interest: another message from the unknown number.

lower lip curls between teeth as brows furrow an inch together. finally clicking on the messages, she feels like she might throw up as her eyes follow the pixels. holy. fucking. shit.

FROM unknown 11:18 am: It’s super dangerous giving your phone number to strangers on the internet you know? FROM unknown 11:20 am: I tried to call and kind of chickened out. I got nervous and I’m sorry. FROM unknown 11:43 am: Oh my god, did you really shoot your shot and just leave the court?

    she has to read the messages at least eight times, take a screenshot, send it to her brother, and have him confirm she’s not having a stroke before she can go back to the originals with an intent to reply. thumbs hover over keys making absentminded shapes as she breathes deeply, loudly, anxiously trying not to have a whole mental breakdown. the message directly referenced her messages to none other than the boy from jurassic park, the bassist of bohemian rhapsody, the very angry baseball player of undrafted. there was absolutely no way that this was actually, truly, literally joseph francis mazzello iii. couldn’t be. nope. not happening. she doesn’t know what to reply back with for a good long moment, taking a second to collect herself and open up instagram to confirm for the hundredth time now that this is who she thinks it is.

    the dm’s screen welcomes her, exhale escaping lowly as she clicks on joe_mazzello’s chat. he hadn’t replied -clearly, she most definitely would have received a notification for that or else instagram would have a very angry woman on their hands- but he had opened it. the time read 3:56am two weeks ago when he read them. her head falls backwards as the mental math floods hurriedly through her brain, trying to understand: so he had called a week after reading them apparently, and then waited another week before engaging contact again. he... he had been thinking about this for a while; it wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment ploy to entertain a fan. god, she might throw up actually this time. thumbs navigate to open the texts from the unknown number again just to make sure they hadn’t magically dissolved into thin air. a slow exhale. one more final time she moves over the keys.

TO unknown 12:56 pm: who is this? TO unknown 12:57 pm: if this is who i think it is i’m gonna Lose My McFreakin Mind

    she nods to herself as they send--- vague enough that whomever was on the other side wouldn’t think something strange was going on no matter what the outcome turned out to be. it had happened once where a friend texted the wrong number instead of her, asking if “mc fuckhead” was there. (that was an incredibly fun inside joke to explain.) head tips to the side slightly, hopping her train of thought from joe mazzello and him genuinely thinking of you to how strange every inside joke must sound to people outside of the inside. another vibration of the device jerks her back to the matter at hand, unable to help her heart thumping uneasily.

FROM unknown 1:26 pm: Hi, I’m Joe Mazzello from Jurassic- I mean, Bohemian Rhapsody and you’re watching Disney Channel! FROM unknown 1:26 pm: Thank God you’re a multiple text person too FROM unknown 1:27 pm: Please don’t Lose Your McFreakin Mind! FROM unknown 1:27 pm: Wait. FROM unknown 1:27 pm: .....Is this (@ y/ig)? Did I just fuck everything up with an actual wrong number?

    suspicions couldn’t get more confirmed than that. her next set of texts goes out rapidly and without much second thought, a stupidly huge smile graced on her face that probably made her look like a maniac--- but really, if any person’s celebrity crush had texted them wouldn’t they have the exact same reaction? actually, now that y/n thinks about it, she’s being really, really calm. the internal screaming stays internal -thank the lord- though her cheeks already ache from the face-splitting grin she currently wears.

TO unknown 1:33pm: if i’m (@ y/ig) then wouldn’t you be @joe_mazzello? no? just me? ok TO unknown 1:33 pm: but hi yes i’m y/n ??? holy shit ??? what the fuck ??? TO unknown 1:34 pm: definitely losing my mind rn   TO unknown 1:34 pm: but also 👀 real talk i was 👀 actually asking you 👀 out TO unknown 1:34 pm: like if you wanted to hang out 👀 haha

    as soon as the last one sends, her heart drops with fear. fuck, what if the actor just wanted to do a fan a favor and answer her dm just for shits and giggles, or, best (worst?) case scenario he wanted to online-befriend her. she can very easily lose the one single chance she’s gotten and--- god, yes, definitely going to throw up. she sends another message in a haste, praying to whomever was up above that her last text actually saved her ass. he responds in actual record time, the girl tucked up on her bed unable to help the excited and very, very, very ugly squeal she let out as she starts reading the messages.

FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: Interesting.... I’ll have to accept your proposal. We meet at dawn! FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: But you’re in Florida right? I think I read that on your account, I hope I didn’t just pull that out of my ass. FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: I haven’t been to Universal down there in God knows how long and I was planning to go at the end of the month funnily enough FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: If dinosaurs and King Kong and Harry Potter and whateva are your thaaaang

    an anxious groan soon follows-- of course this was the alternating year she had gotten a disney annual pass instead of a universal one like last year, and upon further inspection of prices, her bills due, and her bank account, it was a couple hundred dollars she definitely didn’t have to spend. she sets her phone down to calm her now raging anxiety, skin heating up and palms sweating profusely until she fists her comforter in hopes to dry them. asking an actual rich and famous person for financial help just to hang out with them was forcing her eyes to prick with tears-- she had to find something else, right? they could work something else out and she was just overreacting. it takes her verbally saying “you’re crying over universal, chill the heck out” before she comprehends and truly relaxes, tension melting out of her back as a slow breath falls from anxiety ridden lungs.

TO joe omg 1:42 pm: i actually love universal but i have a disney pass right now if maybe that was something you wanted to do TO joe omg 1:43 pm: idk if you’ve ever been to disney world but its so much better than disneyland if i’m honest lmao i’ve gone to california once and i went and i wasn’t super impressed TO joe omg 1:43 pm: i mean it was really cool cause it was the original disney but rides and attractions wise you know what i mean??? anyway im rambling wtf

    the conversation rolls with no further lulls in topics to talk about, one in the afternoon soon turning to one in the morning and her eyes threatening to droop closed. with a final goodnight text the pair decide to resume conversation in the morning, and lord, did she have something to excitedly scream about then.