#mickey garcia x you

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Hello!! I love your work so much ❤🥰. I wanted to know if I could request something with Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia? Something fluffy, loving with him?

Thank you so much ❤🥰

Dr Cupid.

Synopsis - Mickey Garcia passes out in hospitals. Luckily, this time there's a pretty nurse there to catch him.

Pairing - Mickey Garcia x Nurse!Reader

Warnings - a little cursing, a lot of tooth rotting fluff. mentions of blood and hospitals.

Age Rating - 16+

Word Count - 1.5k

Author's Note - thank you for this request!! i love mickey so much. i've been a HUGE danny ramirez fan for years, so i was so excited when he was cast in top gun, and mickey did not disappoint. an angel <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You pull back the crinkly blue curtain with a bit too much force, startling the man sat on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry!" you apologise, closing it behind you. "These things are always lighter than I think they're going to be."

"It's alright, ma'am. No worries."

He's handsome. Really handsome. Big blue eyes, golden blonde hair, an air about him that exudes intelligence and compassion. You smile at him gently before retrieving his chart, giving it a once over quickly.

"Lieutenant Robert Floyd. United States Navy."

He introduces himself, shaking your hand formally. You tell him your name, and he repeats it carefully.

"Pretty name."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Please, call me Bob."

"Thank you, Bob."

He smiles at you bashfully, nodding his head.

"So, Bob, what seems to be the problem today?"

"Training exercise gone wrong. I'm clumsy. You can probably tell by my medical history."

You look over the chart, and laugh softly.

"So you are. What happened this time?"

"It's just a little cut, on my shoulder. I fell onto it, onto the tarmac. I told everyone I didn't need to see a doctor, but they insisted."

"Well luckily for you, I'm a nurse," you wink, chuckling when he blushes. "Let's get this shirt off you so I can take a look. You mind if I cut it?"

"Go ahead."

You cut a line clean down the middle of his t shirt, an old, grey thing. It falls off of him, allowing you to see his shoulder wound.

Just as you're about to explain your next steps, the curtain flies open, a man in a flight suit rushing in.

"Sir, can I help you?"

"He's with me. He's in my squad," Bob reassures you. "Fanboy, you don't have to be here."

"I want to be."

"Fanboy?" you ask, confused about the unusual name.

"It's my call sign. We're pilots. US Navy."

"Why didn't I know they had pilots in the navy? I thought that was the air force."

Fanboy grins at you, all gleaming white teeth, before holding his hand out for you to shake.

"Lieutenant Mickey Garcia. Weapons Systems Officer."

You tell him your name, followed by 'nurse', which makes them both laugh.

"Well, Mickey, if you take a seat, I'll patch up Bob here and you can both get back to flying your jet planes."

Mickey steps around you, eyes darting over Bob as he goes. He catches sight of his bleeding shoulder, and all the colour drains from him.

You've seen this before.

He goes pale, and then wobbles on his feet. You stride over and wrap your arms around him, catching him as he passes out.

"Shit," Bob swears. "I'd help, ma'am, but I'm a little out of commission right now."

"It's alright," you chuckle. "This happens a lot. I'm stronger than I look."

You manage to walk Mickey backwards, sitting him in the chair that you originally sent him towards. You cradle his face in your hands, holding up his head. His eyes flutter open, straight onto you.

"Did I die? Is this heaven?" he whispers.

Both you and Bob try not to laugh as you check him over.

"I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. You're in the hospital, visiting Bob. He's hurt his shoulder. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," he murmurs, embarrassed.

You grab him a cup of water, placing it into his hand carefully.

"You okay?"

His big brown eyes are locked on you, not leaving for a minute. He's beautiful, you realise suddenly. Yes, Bob is handsome, but Mickey is beautiful.

"I get a little weird around blood."

"You're telling me."

The smile he gives you is enough to move mountains.

"Okay, Garcia, listen up. You're gonna sit here and drink your water. Take big, slow, deep breaths. And do not, under any circumstances, look at Bob, okay? Keep your eyes on me, no matter what."

"Yes ma'am."

You leave him in his chair, returning your attention to the blonde. You take a good look at the wound, and decide it'll need a couple of stitches.

"I'm gonna clean this up for you, and sew it shut. I'm sure you'll heal fast, being a healthy pilot and all."

You glance over at Mickey, and see that he's still watching you. Gazing at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"Bob, I won't lie to you. This is going to hurt. Feel free to hold onto me if you need to."

You numb his shoulder, before getting to work stitching it up. You flick your eyes to Mickey intermittently, smiling gently when his stare meets yours.

"Garcia, did you bring any spare clothes? I had to cut Bob's shirt off. I doubt he wants to walk out of here shirtless."

"Yeah, Phoenix has a bag in the waiting room. I'll go and grab it."

You watch him carefully as he stands, making sure he doesn't pass out again. He leaves, and Bob grins at you.

"He likes you."

"Everyone likes me, Bob. I'm a good nurse."

"No, he likes you. That's the quietest I've ever heard him sit. And he took your orders. He doesn't do that for anyone."

You shake your head, smiling as you do it.

"Are you single?"

"Very forward, Lieutenant."

"For him, not for me! You're beautiful," he justifies, "but I'm sort of dating my copilot."

"Sort of?"

"It's complicated."

"Then make it uncomplicated, Bob."

He thinks for a moment, before nodding.

"You're right. I'm going to talk to her."

Mickey comes barging back in with a t shirt in hand.

"Phoenix packed you an overnight bag, just in case. She says this is your shirt anyway."

You look at Bob and wink, chuckling when he blushes.

"Anything else, ma'am?"

"That's all. You've been a perfect patient Bob," you say, squeezing his other shoulder. "If you go to the desk, they'll give you some spare dressings for when you need to change it. Besides that, just take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay. Understood. Thank you, for everything. I appreciate it."

The two of them leave in a flurry of thanks, Mickey casting a longing glance back at you. You can hear them bickering on the other side of the curtain.

"Fine!" you hear Mickey say, before he reappears.

"Uh... hi."

"You forget something?" you ask, looking around the bed.

"Yeah. To ask you out."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, corners of your lips twitching.

"And to apologise. For before. Passing out, and all. I, uh-"

He scratches the back of his neck nervously before perching on the edge of the bed. You move to sit next to him, leg pressing into his.

"I practically grew up in a hospital. My Dad wasn't a nice guy, so my Mom was here all the time."

You lace your fingers with his, resting them on your thigh.

"I used to try and clean up her injuries at home the best I could, but sometimes it wasn't enough. He finally left when I was thirteen, and I didn't have to play doctor anymore."

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Now, as an adult, I have this crazy reaction to blood. Even just a papercut is enough to have me hyperventilating. I guess I saw so much of it when I was a kid, that I can't handle it now?"

He looks at you expectantly, unsure of what you'll say.

"It's way more common than you think, you know. I have people pass out on me all the time. You're not alone, I promise."

He smiles at you softly, and you're convinced you've never met someone more beautiful.

"I have a friend who works on the fourth floor. She's a psychiatrist - which I know people roll their eyes at, especially men - but, she's really great to talk to. About anything. She can help with phobias. I've seen her do it."

He nods almost imperceptibly.

"I mean... it can't hurt to talk to her, right? Just once?"

"Exactly. I can give you her number, you can give her a call whenever suits you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, your hands still linked.

"Thank you. Bob doesn't love hospitals either, but you really set his mind at ease today."

"Just doing my job."

"Trust me, you're doing a hell of a lot more."

You feel the heat rise up your chest, praying he can't hear how fast your heart is beating.

"I know you probably work crazy shifts here, but... would you like to go for dinner sometime? I'd love to get to know you in a less... uh... clinical setting."

You grin at him, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I'd love to. As long as you promise not to pass out," you wink.

"That is a promise I cannot make."

You laugh with him, shaking your head.

"I should get back to work. God knows this place needs me."

"Of course. Do your thing, SuperNurse."

You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, handing him a card with your number on.

"Call me."

"What time do you get off?"

"7."

"I'll call you at 7:01."

"Deal," you laugh, pulling the curtains back.

You watch as he leaves to join Bob and a woman you assume is Phoenix in the waiting area. You wave at Mickey as you go, the other two pilots looking between you with knowing grins on their faces.

#mickey garcia fluff #mickey garcia #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia x reader fluff #mickey garcia x y/n #fanboy #fanboy top gun #mickey fanboy garcia #top gun fanboy #fanboy x reader #mickey garcia smut #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #tgm fic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fluff #danny ramirez #mickey garcia imagine #mickey garcia fic

[ohtobeleah]

Continental Breakfast // Mickey Garcia

Summary: When the Daggers disperse back to their respective states and postings—Mickey Garcia goes home to the wife, the best friend and the significant other that is to this day, the greatest continental breakfast around.

Warnings: Pure Fluff & Smut. Minors DNE. Mickey Fanboy Garcia x F!wife reader. Female Receiving Oral. Mickey simp Garcia. Early trimester pregnancy.

Word Count: 4.1k

Author Note: Plot who? This is just Mr Simp Garcia reuniting with reader wife after the Dagger Mission. This also proves I’m capable of doing good things. I’m not just my angst. And shout out to @mandylove1000 because this is all the fluff you’re getting

The sun had barely risen over the horizon, the thought had yet to cross its mind as the clock beside your bed ticked over in the silence of the early morning darkness. 

Your bed had never felt warmer, more inviting, more comfortable or more peaceful than it did in the moment as a gentle morning breeze crept in and carried the long burlap drapes that stretched the length of your window with it. 

In the quiet of your bedroom that had yet to be blessed with the light of day you sank a little deeper into the mattress with a hum that resembled something of a purr. Your lips curled up into your cheeks as you felt yourself being drawn into a warmth that rivalled Venus itself. Mickey Garcia ran hot like a furnace, his skin radiated a heat that made you tremble but brought you solace all at once, his very aura drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were unable to break the trance his smile cast on you or the spell his laugh had you under. 

“S’early —“ Strong arms drew you into Mickey's chest as he pressed himself up against the swell of your ass. The satin nighty that adorned your curves had been the only thing separating your skin from your husband’s. “Go back to sleep.” You exhaled a drawn out sigh that earned you a few butterfly-like kisses to your shoulder as you sunk deeper and closer into your husband's warm embrace. “You Government owned men with your ridiculous internal alarm clock’s piss me off.” 

Mickey chuckled as he trailed a gently hand across your stomach—with intent behind his movements, he slowly crept down your satin clad stomach up to your hip and stopped to play with the slightly frayed hem that kept your body wrapped up like a present sitting pretty and poised under the tree on Christmas morning. All for him. You were his wife, Mrs Mickey Fanboy Garcia. His best friend, the love of his life, his better half and significant other. You were Mickey's internal present that kept on giving, no matter how many times he unwrapped your layers, you would still make him feel like that giddy high school teenager who got to see your boobs for the first time in the art supply closet. 

“Six weeks away from you made me a crazed man amor.” There was a morning husk so prominent in your husband's voice as he peppered your supple skin with delicate kisses you couldn’t resist. With heavy eyelids and a whimper that resembled something meekly pathetic you rolled onto your back as Mickey carefully hovered over you. The same strong arms that once held you close in the early morning light that had begun to creep into your bedroom now trapped you entirely beneath him, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. “Im starved—“

“Good thing breakfast in bed is always an option then Lieutenant.” You couldn’t miss the way the corner of Mickey's lips pinned to go cheeks as he leaned in and over to kiss the junction of your neck. Coaxing whimpers and soft moans from you as your legs spread wider and wider at the mere thought of your husband's next move. 

“I missed you so much.” Mickey had come home just after eight pm. His entire body ached as he sunk into the warmth of the bath you had run him full of epsom salt and rose bud bubble bath. If you hadn’t been sitting behind him stroking his length lazily beneath the water whispering sweet nothings in his ear— Mickey was sure he would have fallen asleep and drowned in the moment. He felt like he’d been on his toes for six weeks straight. The minute he was dismissed from Mirimars special detachment he was heading home to you in Seattle, where his guiding light lived. Where his heart always felt fullest. “Missed you so much it felt like a lifetime had passed.” 

“You’re home now.” You reached out to cup your husband's cheek as he kissed the pad of your thumb that trailed across his bottom lip. Deep brown eyes stared down at you with a hunger so prominent it made you throb. “You’re safe baby, at ease.” 

Mickey had been so tired after your bath late last night that the minute his head hit the soft, almost otherworldly pillow, he was out like a light. His body had given in and thrown in the towel. You’d expected nothing less as you crawled in beside him. Knowing that by the lines that had become a permanent fixture upon his face that he’d been through a lot. That he’d given his all and he’d done his very best. 

He was your TopGun. 

“You look so pretty underneath me right now it’s insane.” Mickey had dreamt about you every night he was away and fantasised about how you tasted whenever he was alone. His fist could never amount to the pleasure you brought him. Like two puzzle pieces from the same puzzle you and Mickey Garcia shared an unconditional love that was as unambiguous as Payback's cynical eyes had ever seen. “Bet you taste so sweet at this hour.” 

As Mickey's words dripped from his lips he sunk a hand between your legs, with no panties stopping him—he traced a delicate finger between your folds and watched from above as your breathing hitched in your throat. He collected your arousal from your core and soon enough you craved his touch immediately in minute he pulled away. 

“Mick—“ 

“How do you taste Amor?” It was a question that made you question your own intelligence as your husband watched you part your lips so you could kiss the tip of his finger. You could taste your arousal on his digit as you took him in further, sucking on the nimble digit like you would suck on his throbbing length. “Sweet enough for me?” 

You did nothing but hum in response as you moved your hips against your husbands, the feeling of his raging erection pressing against the cotton of his boxer briefs made you quiver underneath him. 

“Good thing I was in the mood for something sickly sweet this morning huh?” 

“Well are you going to do something Miguel?” You asked through battered eyelashes and a taunting tone as you reached between the pair of you to softly palm your husband’s hard on. You could feel the wet patch that had formed in the cotton of his boxers as he rocked his hips into your touch and dropped his forehead to yours. “Or are you just all talk?” 

“I wonder if that attitude of yours will still be there after I’m done with you.” All Mickey Garcia ever wanted was to be king in your story. All he ever wanted was to l know who you are, he wanted your heart to be for him and only him. Mickey wanted you to sing to him softly in the afternoon sun of summer evenings so he could run in the dark. Your love was internal and pure, conjured only for him and designed specifically for him. 

“Guess you’ll find out won’t you?” You tilted your chin to take Mickey's lips hostage with your own as you hummed at the taste of him. Mickey swiped his tongue across your bottom lip as he begged for more, grinding his clothed cock against your dripping core. Your legs could not have been any more open if they tried. “Fuck—“ 

“I’ve got you.” Mickey mumbled into your mouth as he began to trail kisses that felt like sparks against your skin down your neck and collarbone. “I’ve got you Amor, I’m home.” As Mickey met the satin of your nighty he pressed his face against your stomach and mumbled against the fabric, his strong inviting hands held your hips in place against the mattress. “Avert your gaze, little one.” 

You were barely even showing, but it had been a welcomed surprise just four days before Mickey was being called back to TopGun. It made the mission all the more difficult, he wanted to be a part of it—but there was no option not to come home to you. To your growing unborn child. 

“You’re such an idiot—“ You laughed softly as Mickey sank lower and lower as he sent you a look so full of love it was hard to hold a grudge of any kind against the man who loved you so tenderly. But Mickey knew that time was going to take him, he knew that day was going to come. He just wanted the devil to hate him enough before he did so. He wanted to love you in all the ways he could while he had a chance to. 

“But you love me for it, don’t you mama.” 

With gentle but firm hands, Mickey spread your knees wide as he sank to his chest between your glistening core. He was spellbound—entranced by the way your beauty captivated every part of him. There was a part of Mickey that wondered if he’d ever stop feeling like the giddy schoolboy who lost his virginity with you in the tent the two of you had shared one night during spring break in the backyard of your parents' old place. 

“So pretty Amor, so gorgeous—“ Mickey whispered in the warm morning light as it crept across your room. The sun had started to rise just as Mickey peppered your inner thigh with marks that would linger for days on end. “How’d I ever get so lucky?” 

“Patience was always your strongest virtue.” You whined. “But it’s never been mine Miguel.” You reminded your love drunk husband as he sent you a smile that could have ended world wars and started them all at once. “Please do something—“ 

“All you had to say was please, Amor.” Mickey loved it when you’d say his government name, besides his Abuela you were the only person on planet earth that could get away with it. He was Mickey to all, Fanyboy to most and Miguel to you and only you. “Smell so fucking sweet.” 

“Oh god—“ You trailed your fingers through Mickey's dark curls as he licked a stripe up your core to collect all your nectar. His dark lustful eyes never left yours as he swallowed all you could give him. “Yess—“ Heavenly praises fell from your mouth as Mickey enjoyed his continental breakfast, a taste of you and only you he’d never get tired of devouring. His jaw would ache before he ever gave up being between your legs—he’d happily die eating you out. You’d be his last meal if he was ever sent to death row. “Oh god I missed this.” 

“I can guarantee I missed it more.” Mickey mumbled against your core as he sucked against your throbbing bundle of nerves, he watched through hooded eyes as you let your head rest against the pillow and arched your back, sighing in pure pleasure and relief as he worked you over just the way he knew you liked. “That’s its Amor give into me, missed you so fucking much.” 

It never took you long to let go of all that was worrying you, all that plagued your mind, all that stressed you out on a day to day basis, when you were with Mickey. His energy gave you life and his presence protected you from harm. 

“Such a pretty little pussy.” Mickey moaned as he pulled away to spit against your core, he took one single digit and swirled the newly added moisture around before he pressed inside you, coaxing his finger up against your velvet walls. “I know you like that Amor, let me hear you.” 

You had a special power over Mickey Garcia. Everything he held dear resided in your eyes. You were the only one he ever loved, the only one forever on his mind. 

“Yesss—baby, like that right there, right there.” You were giving in, giving yourself over completely to Mickey who lapped away at your core and curled his digit tenderly into your velvet walls. He couldn’t take his eyes off the way you arched your back—the way your hands came up to squeeze at your breasts over the silk of your nighty. “Baby—“

“Such a sight.” Mickey snickered against your dripping core as he added another nimble digit to your entrance, revelling in the way you stretched around him, oh so tight. “Love your beautiful pussy mama—fuck you taste so sweet.” 

For six weeks Mickey fell asleep to the thought of being between your legs again, thinking of the life he would soon have with you and your unborn child. He was so excited to be a dad—he couldn’t wait. But the news was kept under wraps, he kept those cards close to his chest. Neither of you had told your parents, your extended families, your friends or co-workers. The news that you were expecting was just news that the two of you wanted to bask in together for a little while longer. 

“Ohhh yes—!” Your grip tightened in the curls that fell without rhyme or reason on top of Mickey's head as he ate you like you were going out of style. His eyes were on you as his nose pressed against your pubic bone and his fingers filled you perfectly. “Mickey, fuck feels so good!” You squirmed against the mattress under the immense pleasure Mickey's mouth brought you as he gave all his attention to your clit. Those sensitive nurse endings that bundled up to create a pleasure pit, all for him to tantalise and tease. “God I’m getting close, so close baby.” 

“Are you Amor?” Mickey teased as he pumped his fingers inside you as he pulled his mouth away from your core. “Is that so?” Mickey Garcia knew how to take his sweet sweet time with you. He knew how to stop and smell the roses, he knew how to enjoy the journey and not just the destination.

“Don’t stop, god please don’t fucking stop Mick—“ 

“Guess I’m just gonna have to slow things down, take my time and make you unravel bit by pleasurable bit.” He teased as his fingers came to a mere agonising halt inside you. “We don’t wanna rush this, do we Amor?”

It was invigorating, pure ecstasy invaded your bloodstream as your husband came up to press his lips against yours from where he’d been perched between your legs. Hovering above you as he kissed you oh so deeply and with enough love to knock the wind from your lungs as you tasted your sweet sweet self on his tongue. 

“I love you so much.” Mickey mumbled as he trailed his lips down your neck and worked a single palm over the strap of your nighty. His raging hard on pressed against your core as he bucked his hips to reveal just an ounce of the pressure. This moment wasn’t about him though, it was all about you. “Missed you so much, thought about you every second of every day.” 

“If you really loved me you’d make me cum—“ You teased through a whine of your own as Mickey’s palm fell against your exposed breasts. He pinched softly at the hardened bud of your nipple as he finished trailing languid kisses up and down your neck. 

“Is that so?” Mickey asked with a raised eyebrow as he watched you pop your chest further towards him as he played with your nipple. “Such a needy little thing aren’t you?” He teased as you exposed your other breasts—your nighty now fell around your midsection almost completely forgotten as your husband saw yet another opportunity to drive you insane. “Patience really wasn’t your virtue huh Amor?” It felt otherworldly as Mickey wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked a kind of pressure that had your core ignited into flames. Like a hive mind your body ached for him. He couldn’t touch you everywhere all at one like you craved for him. 

“Mickey—!” He could hear the desperation in your voice. “Need you, need you so bad.” Mickey could easily blame your desire on the pregnancy hormones that were ravaging your body and brain, but he’d be doing a disservice to the teenage version of himself that sat in geography class pining over the girl who alway sat beside him if he did so.

All Mickey ever wanted in life was you. 

“Guess you could twist my arm.” Mickey rolled his eyes as he popped your nipple from his mouth and trailed those same languid and soft kisses down your stomach, settling where he belonged, between your thighs. “What do you say?” 

“Please—“ With so much need faced in the lines on your face and in the irises or your eyes, how could Mickey say no. So he said nothing at all as he went back to giving you exactly what you wanted. His mouth on your pussy, lapping away at your nectar that leaked like a faucet that hadn’t been properly turned off. “Oh god yess—that’s it Miguel, that’s it baby eat my fucking pussy.” 

It was truly an honour to devour you like this, to witness you unravel and let go of yourself. Mickey in all honesty could do this all day—but listening to your pleasure filled moans echo off the sunkissed walls as warmth slowly began to fill the bedroom that had once been shrouded in darkness was too tempting to not give in and give you what you wanted. What you needed from him. That orgasm you deserved and craved.  

Mickey held your knees apart when you tried to close your legs around his head. He lapped away at your core like it would be his last act on ear as you felt that all too familiar feeling start to bubble under the surface. 

“Oh yesss! Please Mickey, please make me cum.” The way you asked with such need had Mickey sucking your clit and curling his digits so perfectly the way he knew you liked with such passion and such fire in his actions, that he had you seeing stars. For a split second you forgot how to breath when he looked up at you with dark eyes that told you he wasn’t anywhere near finished with you, that this was just the beginning of a day full of intimacy after six agonising weeks apart. “Yes! Yes! Ahhhh fuck!” 

“Cum for me Amor—“ Mickey coaxed you closer to your high, he could tell by the way you tensed and jolted at his touch, how you reacted when he pumped his fingers inside your dripping core as he lapped at your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Cum on my face baby, don’t hold back on me.” 

How could you ever hold back when your husband was between your thighs, eating you out like he was a starved man in search of nutrition that would sustain him for days on end. You couldn’t focus on anything else but the feeling he brought you, the ever looming orgasm that was about to wash over your entire body like a tsunami—threatening to take you victim yet again as you trembled and quivered and jolted under his touch, his expert tongue. 

“Oh fuck!” You balled your fists into the white linen that lined your mattress as the coil finally wound up just enough to have you tittering on the edge of satisfaction. “Oh fuck Mickey, baby—yesss! Ahhh I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—“ 

It was heavenly after six stressful weeks worrying about your husband. Sure you’d given yourself an orgasm here and there. A few times a week if you could be arsed to do so. But nothing could compare to the orgasm that Mickey Garcia could bring you—nothing compared to the love he had for you that showed in every touch, every moment, every mere second he spent attending to your needs. 

“Ohhhhh Mickey fuckkk—“ As you arched your back and rode out the blissful sensation that overcame you entirely, Mickey watched through dark lustful eyes. He couldn’t not. You clenched around his digits hard and trembled against his tongue as your pussy fluttered and thanked him for his service. 

“You’re a vision.” Was all Mickey had to say as he watched you ride out and come down from the highest peak of your orgasm. “You’re so beautiful.” Mickey would spend the rest of his life reminding you how beautiful you were inside and out. He told you every day. 

“Holy shit I feel like a whole new woman.” You sighed as you relaxed into the mattress, Mickey wasted no time as he mounted you once more, trapping you between strong arms and exposed chest. “Feel like I should return the favour.” You cooed as he kissed you once more with the taste of your orgasm on his tongue. It drove you manic– completely insane as you reached between the two of you to pull back the elastic of his boxer briefs. 

“I'd never say no–” Mickey mumbled into your mouth as you slowly but surely worked your palm over his hardened length. He was rock hard, straining against the fabric of his briefs as he bucked his hips into your hand to aid you in the process. “Fuck��” 

“I think it's my turn to enjoy my breakfast don't you think baby?” You teased as you pressed the pad of your thumb against Mickey's swollen tip. He oozed pre cum at the thought of your mouth on his cock. Warm and ever so inviting, made for him and only for him. “Switch with me?” 

“Yes ma’am.” It never took much to get Mickey where you wanted him. He was after all just a mere mortal man with needs and desires. With ease you were pushing him down onto his back, straddling his waist as your hands roamed up the valley of his chest. The tufted of barely there chest hair drove you crazy– Mickey knew it too. “I'm all yours Amor.” 

“I know.” You replied with confidence riddled in your early morning smile as you rocked your hips back and forth slowly a top your husband. “You've always been mine, always will be too.” You drove Mickey insane as you pinned his arms above his head and kissed his neck harshly, just enough to leave a few marks in your wake. “Gonna make you feel real good.” 

“I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that.” It made you feel powerful, that you had such a hold on your husband, the father of your unborn child, your best friend. “God Amor, if you keep grinding on me like you are, I swear to you, I'm gonna cum.” It had been so long since Mickey had felt your gentle touch, your loving hold. Six weeks away from you felt like a lifetime and then some. “Not gonna last long at all.” 

“S’okay, we’ve got all day.” You teased as you slowly but surely slipped Mickey's length, his erect and throbbing cock inside you, the plan had been to suck him off but this was just too perfect. Watching him wither away underneath you as you took him in inch by inch. “Cum inside me baby, I know you want to.” Mickey had to grit his teeth and clench his jaw to keep himself from busting then and there. He was a goner. “Feels so good.” You sat up as Mickey's hand flew to your hips, helping to guide you up and down his slicked cock with intent to milk him dry. “Fuck–” 

“Ohhh ahh fuck, baby, baby, holy shit I’m gonna cum–” To absolutely no surprise Mickey was stilling you as he sat up and wrapped you in his arms. He came so hard it damn near hurt as you rocked your hips in his lap as he spilled inside you. Recreating the same moment that had surely gotten you pregnant in the first place not ten weeks ago. “Fuck fuck fuck oh my god–”

Your bed had never felt warmer, more inviting, more comfortable or more peaceful than it did in the moment as you fell into a heap of twisted limbs with your husband, completely spent. 

“For the record Amor, you have always been and will continue to be, my favourite breakfast.” Mickey sighed as he kissed your cheek and held you close to his chest. He missed this, missed you, missed the way you raked your fingernails up his chest and down his side–leaving goosebumps in your wake. 

“Consider it continental Miguel.” You replied softly as you thought about the day ahead–spent wrapped in the sheet of your bed with your husband. “It's the most important meal of the day.”

**************************************

#mickey garcia x reader #top gun mickey #mickey garcia fanfiction #mickey garcia fluff #mickey garcia x you #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia x female reader #mickey garcia imagine #mickey fanboy garcia fluff #fanboy imagine #fanboy garcia x reader #mickey garcia smut

[seresinsbabe]

Trapped

"I can't pull out with your legs wrapped around me like that"

Prompt request from @kmc1989 for my 1K celebration!

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! Smut, p in v, unprotected sex (be smart with your parts)

Ash's 1K Celebration

pure smut below the cut!

Sex and sweat permeated the air. The room was hot, not only because the air conditioning had gone out, but because Mickey was currently buried to the hilt inside of you. His cock dragging against your walls and drawing delicious moans from you with each stroke.

Having sex in the middle of summer in San Diego on your third floor apartment with no a/c probably wasn't the brightest idea, but neither of you could really help it. And neither of you really cared. If you went out from a sex induced heat stroke that was fine by you.

"Mick," you whined, your head lolling to the side when his thumb came into contact with your clit.

"I know baby, me too." A drop of sweat dripped down from his forehead, landing in the mess of your hair splayed out on the pillow beneath you.

Another well aimed thrust had your legs circling his waist, locking at your ankles to keep him as deep inside of you as you could.

You could feel he was close, the way his cock twitched.

"Babe, I can't pull out," he huffed, trying to stave off his impending orgasm which in turn staved off your own. "Gotta unwrap your legs." You pouted and whined again, but relented, unwrapping your legs.

"Fuck it," Mickey grunted and put your legs right back. "I wanna fill you up."

You grinned and locked your ankles, bucking your hips up to meet his own. "Fill me up daddy."

#ash hits 1k #seresinsbabe 1k celebration #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia fanboy #tgm fanboy #tgm smut #mickey fanboy garcia smut #mickey garcia smut #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x you

[eternalsams]

Southern Nights ⇴ M.Garcia

pairing: Mickey Garcia x fem!reader

warning/content: protective big bro energy, recomposed family, smitten Fanboy as we love him

summary: your boyfriend is finally meeting your family but it doesn't go as he planned it.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: English isn't my mother tongue, please take that into consideration.

masterlist

"What about you, Fanboy? Doing anything special for the holidays?" Rooster asked the younger man as he took a sip from his beer. Mickey couldn't contain the smile that appeared on his lips and raised his chin, a proud look in his eyes. "I do, actually. Meeting my girl's family for the first time." All his friends howled and cheered him on, making him slightly blush. "This is getting serious, Garcia. Make sure to compliment the mama and stay away from the pop's shotguns." Hangman clapped his hand on Mickey's shoulder with a sneer. "Not everyone keeps shotguns to terrorize their daughter's boyfriend, Bagman." Phoenix slapped the blonde's hand from Fanboy's shoulder before turning to the WSO. "Don't worry, I'm sure they're gonna love you. If your girl's as wonderful as you say, her parents must be amazing people too." She reassured him. "You seem pretty in love, where did you hide the ring?" Payback teased his WSO. "In my gym bag." He admitted, not ashamed of how smitten he is for his girl. "What did you say her name was again?" Hangman's voice teased again. Mickey turned to him with a fake-smile. "Not your business, Bagman."

You were practically jumping at the sight of your childhood house. It's been so long. Your hand holding his, you were pulling him toward the big house. You both walked up the few steps on the porch and before you could knock at the door, Mickey dropped the bags he had in other hand and pulled up against him before kissing you deeply. You were surprised but didn't complain. You pulled away, your cheeks flushed and looked at him. "What was that for, Mister Garcia?" You ran your fingers on his shoulders, inspecting his button-up shirt. "I don't think your parents will allow me to kiss you that way for the next week." He then pecked your lips and smiled down at you when you giggled. "You're a dork..." He bent down to grab the two bags and you went to knock on the front door. An elder woman was quick to open it and you threw yourself in her arms, wrapping your arms around her. Mickey smiled softly and locked eyes with the woman holding you close. Your mom quickly released you from the hug and she looked at you surprised. "Oh My! He's even more handsome than on the pictures you sent me!" Mickey smiled wildly at the compliment and wrap an arm around the woman who hugged him. You watched them with a loving smile and waited for them to separate to go into the house.

Mickey was met by an incredible smell and he already felt like home. "It smells amazing, Mrs Y/L/N." Mickey held onto the bags, not really sure where to put them. "Oh, you can call me Kate, sweetie. And I hope you're hungry!" She reached for your jacket to put it in the closet. "She cooked enough to feed the whole town!" A masculine voice joined the discussion. A wide grin took place on your face and you went to hug an elder man, your father, Mickey guessed. Your dad pulled away from you and straightened up to make himself taller to face Fanboy. Kind as he was, Mickey smiled at the man and extended his hand with genuine interest. "It's very nice to meet you, Sir. Y/N can't stop talking about you, both of you actually." He quickly glanced at your mom who slightly blushed and waved it off. Your father turned towards you as he shook Mickey's hand. "Did you tell him to say that?" You simply shrug and smile at him. "Maybe." Your father laughed a bit and turned back to Mickey. "It's okay, at ease, Lieutenant. And you can call me Jacob." He tapped Mickey's shoulder before taking the bags from his hand and leaving for the rooms to drop them in your room for the holidays. "Did you bring anything else with you, darling?" Your mom asked you. "Yeah, the rest is in the car." You smiled at her and she took Mickey's hand to lead him in the kitchen so he could help her setting the table. Mickey looked back at you and you waved your fingers at him with a soft smile. Your dad came back and walked to the french doors leading to the backyard. "Hey, Junior! Come help me with your sister's bags!" He called loudly to be heard over the children's screams.

"Aunt Y/N is here?" You could hear a little boy's voice ask before you were tackled by your sister's 5 year old son, and your godson. "Hey there..." You crouched down to scoop him in your arms. "I missed you. How is California?" He held you close, tightening his little arms around your shoulders. "It's amazing. It's hot, you'd love the beach. And I brought home someone I'd like for you to meet." You stroked his back and scratched the back of his head to draw his attention. He pulled back from your neck and looked at you with a frown. You said nothing and simply smiled, walking to the kitchen where your mom and Mickey were chatting. When you passed the doors, your boyfriend looked over at you and an excited grin took place on his face when he saw the child in your arms. "Noah... This is Mickey, he's my boyfriend. Mickey, this is my first love, Noah." You kissed your godson's cheek, making him giggle. Mickey walked up to you and shook Noah's hand. "It's really nice to meet you Noah, I've heard a lot about you. Wow, you really got a firm grip!" He exclaimed as he pretended to painfully rub his hand, earning a giggle from the boy. From the corner of your eye, you could see your dad and your brother walk up to your car and get everything out. Noah got shy as Mickey kept softly smiling at him and he buried his nose in your neck. "Are you in love?" He whispered in your ear, but loud enough because you could see Mickey smile even more. "We are." You answered as you rubbed his back. "Are you gonna get married and have kids?" He then asked in your ear. You smiled even more and turned your head so you could whisper back in his ear. "I hope so. I'm just waiting for him to be ready and pop the question down on one knee." The little boy laughed and squirmed in your arms. You crouched down and let him go back outside to play with his sister. The front door opened again and you could see Mickey frown when he heard your dad and your brother talk. He walked out of the kitchen and froze.

"Bagman?!" The latter froze in turn and looked at your boyfriend then looked at you. "You gotta be kidding me..." He sighed before dropping the bags he was holding. Mickey turned to you with a shocked expression and pointed at your brother. "You didn't tell me your brother was Hangman! Why isn't your name Seresin then!" The annoyed expression on Jake's face changed to a protective one when he heard your boyfriend raising his voice while talking to you. You simply chuckled and shrugged. "Because I'm not a Seresin, Jake's dad met my mom after I was born, we don't have the same dad. They got married when I was six and I got used to calling him dad." Mickey turned back to Jake who was looking between you and your boyfriend. "Everything good, Y/N?" The blonde asked. "Everything's good, Jake. Don't worry, I should've told you guys, I knew you worked together for a while and I thought it would be fun to keep this for me until your met. And it was fun." You chuckled and took your boyfriend's hand before leading him to the backyard to greet your niece and your sister and her husband. You heard Jake groaning behind you and turned back to throw him a glare, asking him silently to behave and not cause a scene. You wanted these vacations to be perfect for everyone. Jake sighed and rolled his eyes before grabbing your bags and following his dad to your room. He dropped the bags on your bed and stopped in his track and he saw Fanboy's gym bag. The ring. He quickly checked if anyone was coming in the hallway but he only heard chatting in the backyard. He opened the bag and searched for a little satin bag, a black velvety box, anything. He stopped his research when his hand touched something that had no reason to be in a gym bag. An envelop. He took it out of the bag and read your name in Fanboy's handwriting. He felt the envelop between his fingers and recognized the shape of a ring with a stone one one side. A big one, that is. He decided he knew enough and put the envelop where it was and put everything back how it was before closing the gym bag and leaving the room.

Jake joined everyone outside in the backyard, still deep in his thoughts, and was surprised when his niece threw herself in his arms, screaming and laughing, oh so happy to have her entire family reunited for the holidays. He looked up and saw you perched on Mickey's lap, laughing at something his dad said. He locked eyes with the WSO and walked up to them, dropping off the little girl so she could go play with her brother. "I saw you brought your gym bag." He said directly to Fanboy who froze and widened his eyes. All colors left his face and he realized Jake knew about the ring and that he planned to propose. To Jake's sister. You turned to your boyfriend and furrowed your frows, feeling there was a silent discussion between the two men. "I know a good place for a good run, I'll show you tomorrow morning if you want." The blonde pilot tapped Mickey's shoulder who seemed to breathe for the first time since his colleague opened his mouth. His grip on your hips loosened and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you closer and resting his chin on your shoulder. "Thanks, man." He only said before turning his attention back to the two children trying to show him what they learned in gym class.

#fanboy #mickey garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #fanboy fanfic #fanboy imagine #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia fanfic #mickey garcia imagine #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x you #danny ramirez #danny ramirez x you #danny ramirez x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun fanfic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick x you #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick imagine #hangman x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin

[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

#Spotify #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia imagine #mickey garcia fluff #fanboy imagine #fanboy fluff #mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #famous!reader #actress!reader #top gun maverick imagine #tgm imagine #tgm fluff #mickey garcia #mickey garcia x y/n #top gun fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #mickey garcia fanfiction #fanboy fanfiction

[moonlight-prose]

✧ FANTASY ✧

a/n: so out of all the fics i've written so far i particularly love this one a lot. probably because it's with fanboy and he continues to hold a whole section of my heart to himself. it's not as filthy as all the other prompts i have written, but i love it. enjoy!

day two - photos | kinktober 2023

summary: "but this—you dressed in all black and lace to match—was more than he could have hoped for. you were a dream come true—a fantasy he was lucky enough to have right in front of him."

word count: 1.3k+

pairing: mickey 'fanboy' garcia x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, dirty photos, face fucking, oral (m receiving), cumeating, mickey being cocky.

The familiar click of your Polaroid camera echoed through the room as you lay there. Remaining as still as humanly possible to achieve the perfect vision in his mind. A sight he claimed he could see clearer than he saw the clouds when he was mid flight. You wanted to tell him he was simply trying to flatter you. An act he always partook in. But this time was different.

This time…he knew how he wanted you.

The sheer black gloves you wore were pulled up to your elbows, matching your pretty and delicate thigh highs. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated you in the darkness of your shared bedroom—your body stretched across the bed exactly how he desired. Every minute detail in his head now displayed before him like a piece of fucking art.

“Mi vida,” he said softly, drawing your attention to him—your lips parting at the sight of his dark eyes now blown wide with lust. “Perfecta.”

You grinned, stretching your leg out, your shiny patent black heel shifting to press against his bare chest. Mickey swallowed thickly, his eyes drinking you in—struggling to hold himself back from finally taking you. He said he wanted pictures for when he was gone. When all he had was his hand and the mental image of you.

But this—you dressed in all black and lace to match—was more than he could have hoped for. You were a dream come true—a fantasy he was lucky enough to have right in front of him.

“Are you going to take the picture mi amor? Or are you going to keep staring?” you teased softly—your eyes trailing down to the gray sweatpants he wore that were slung low on his hips. The happy trail you’d kissed to lovingly an hour before now on full display.

He grinned. Positioning the camera back up to his eyeline, he gave you a moment to fix the lens with a stare that was proven to rile him up, before pressing down on the small button. The echo of the film being spit out—developing slowly—sent chills down your spine. Your body reacting in a way it hadn’t before. There was something about knowing what would happen to these photos that sent another wave of slick pouring into your already thin panties.

“Wanna try something,” you said softly, shifting to your knees and watching as he trailed his eyes down the length of your body.

If there’s one thing you knew for certain it was this. Whenever you were with Mickey, you felt like the only person in the world. As if everything faded away until eventually it was just you and him and your shared bedroom, existing on a plane away from everything and everyone. You wanted to stay there. Sink into the sheet, spread your legs, and feel him fill you as he’d done a hundred times before.

But the need to rile him up even further won the battle in your head.

Smiling softly, you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, dipping your hand beneath the surface and watching him gulp in a lungful of air. His body shuddered when your hand slid along his already hard and leaking cock. You hadn’t even touched him completely, yet he was already this far gone. Entirely ready to cum with just a few gentle strokes and whispered words of praise.

“Ah fuck—” he sucked in another breath, his mouth parting—a groan falling past his plush lips. “Baby I won’t last if you keep—shit—”

Pressing a kiss to his chest, you grinned at the stain of red lipstick that was left behind on his already flushed skin. “You don’t need to last.”

“But I want to…”

“Shh,” you breathed, stroking him softly and allowing him to buck into your hand. “Just get ready to shoot, yeah?”

He nodded, fumbling with the camera as you tugged his sweatpants down until they were around his thighs. A raspy moan echoed in your ears when you leaned down, wrapping your painted lips around the head of his cock. Licking up what had started to bead up at the top.

“Oh fuck,” he panted, his eyes wide in awe—watching intently as you took him into your mouth, positioning yourself to show the expanse of your body.

Blinking up at him, you raised an eyebrow, seeing the understanding quickly spread across his face. If the photos were for him to find some semblance of release when he was away, then you would give him something to remember you by. An image that would no doubt be burned into his brain by the time he came back to you.

Mickey’s hands shook slightly as he held up the camera, the image of you sucking on his cock too much for his already lust addled brain. If you weren’t careful he would cum long before he even got a chance to be inside you. Yet the way you were pumping your hand, stimulating him in just the right way, told him that’s exactly what you wanted.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, trying not to completely ruin this shot for either of you. He was a man who could handle high risk situations in mid air. Yet his cock in the wet heat of your mouth turned him into a complete and utter mess.

Mickey wasn’t sure how you did it. What spell you cast over him, but it certainly was working.

He clicked the button and both of you watched the film begin to slowly slide out of the bottom. The picture a blank white canvas for now. But he wasn’t concerned with watching it develop. Shit he could barely stand to not cum all over your hand at this moment. Gathering the photos and the camera, he shoved them over to the other side of the bed. He’d worry about them later. Right now you were doubling down on your efforts to bring him to a fast and mind numbing orgasm.

“Fuck baby,” he grunted, thrusting into your mouth and feeling your throat constrict around him. “Gonna cum if you keep that up.”

Your lips quirked up slightly, hand shifting down to cup his balls—tugging on them gently. The fact that you could barely breathe wasn’t a concern to you. Not when Mickey was gripping the back of your head, guiding your movements how he wanted—his pupils nearly swallowing the brown of his irises. A broken sound tore from his chest, his stomach flexing with every thrust, and all it took was you taking him just a little bit more down your throat to send him flying over the edge.

He spurted into your mouth with a pained grunt, his body arching forward into himself; a string of curse words spilling from his lips. And you swallowed every last drop. Sucking along his cock to make sure nothing remained, until he was pulling you up and slotting his lips roughly against yours.

“I should have taken a picture of that,” you gasped, smiling when his hands practically ripped at the lace of your panties. “Could have kept it for when you’re away.”

Something rumbled low and dark in his chest, his hands gripping your thighs painfully as he pushed you back into the mattress. The thought of you getting off to a picture of him made his spent cock twitch again—seeking out the warmth he could only find when he was buried deep within you. Grabbing for the camera, he practically shoved it into your hands, flipping the both of you until he was the one on his back.

A sly smile spreading across his lips.

“Yeah?” he taunted, sliding his thumb to your clit and watching in rapture as your entire body shivered. “Get ready to shoot then mi vida.”

#mickey 'fanboy' garcia #fanboy x f!reader #fanboy x you #fanboy smut #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia x y/n #mickey garcia smut #top gun: maverick #my writing #kinktober 2023

[thewulf]

Skies of Concern || Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Summary: Request -may i request for top gun maverick with husband!mickey 'fanboy' garcia x civillian maverick's daughter!reader please? when you heard that mav called mickey to join a mission, you kind of mad to your dad cause it is dangerous for mickey (worried)... Read Rest Here

A/N: Eeeeek! This one was fun to write. Super cute and fluffy. Memories are in italics. Hope you enjoy anon!

Pairing: Mickey Fanboy" Garcia x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.6k +

T/W : General TGM warnings

The sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm, golden glow across the tarmac of the Naval Air Station as you waited for the aircraft carrier to arrive back on base. You stood near the water as the anticipation built with each passing minute. You were anxiously awaiting the return of your father, Maverick, and his trusted wingman and your beloved husband, Mickey Garcia.

But even in the middle of the tension and worry that gripped your heart your mind wandered back to a warmer memory. A moment of serendipity that had brought you into the orbit of the charismatic WSO who would later become your husband much to your fathers dismay. Although he eventually came around and loved Mickey as his own son.

It was a balmy evening at the Hard Deck as you waited for your father to return from a training mission. He’d asked you to meet him there against your better judgement. Although you didn’t frequent the bar that often anymore you had sought solace in the familiar surroundings of the bar, the chatter of fellow Navy personnel providing a comforting backdrop to your thoughts. As you nursed a drink at the counter trying to push aside the nagging worry that always accompanied your father's missions, you noticed him.

Mickey Garcia, with his effortless charm and magnetic presence strode into the bar. His flight suit a testament to the adrenaline-fueled world he inhabited. His gaze briefly met yours and in that fleeting moment, something sparked between you—a connection born in the anonymity of the crowded room. You should’ve run far, far away after the smirk grew on the pilot’s face. But you couldn’t. It’s like that one look had you rooted right into the bar stool.

Unbeknownst to Mickey he had just caught the eye of Maverick's daughter. You had planned to keep your identity hidden. More than content to observe from the shadows as he approached with a casual confidence that belied the danger of his profession.

"Hey there," he greeted you. His smile as warm as the fading sunlight outside. "Haven't seen you around here before. I’d remember a pretty face like yours. You can’t be a regular, no?"

His words were laced with genuine curiosity with a playful demeanor drawing you in despite the weight of your worries. Little did you know that chance encounter would set the stage for a journey fraught with danger and adventure but so much love. Oh, so much love.

As Mickey leaned casually against the bar with that signature mischievous twinkle in his eyes you couldn't help but return his flirtatious banter. "Well,” you replied with a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Maybe I like to keep things interesting. You never know when a new face might turn up." He was right. You often avoided the Hard Dec as it was your father and Penny’s spot.

Mickey chuckled. The sweet sound sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I like the way you think," he said. His gaze lingering on you with unmistakable interest. "Name's Mickey, by the way. Mickey Garcia." You nodded. You knew that. Hell, you knew most of your dads pilots even if you hadn’t formally met them. But you had to play dumb to keep up your charade.

You extended your hand. A coy smile playing on your lips. "Nice to meet you, Mickey. I'm... just a girl trying to enjoy her night."

His handshake was firm, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Well, just a girl, if you ever need someone to show you around this place… you know who to call," he spoke with a confidence only pilots seemed to have.

Before you could respond to him the familiar sound of your fathers voice cut through the air, drawing your attention to the entrance of the bar. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched your father stride in. He looked to be in one piece. Your concern washed away in an instant. His presence commanded the attention of everyone in the room. When he spotted you chatting with one of his pilots at the bar he made a beeline right to you with a less than thrilled look on his face.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Your dad greeted you. His voice was warm with affection as he pulled you into a quick hug. "You holding up okay?"

You nodded. A small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned into his embrace. "Yeah, Dad," you replied oh so grateful for the familiar strength of his arms around you. "Just glad to see you back in one piece."

But as Pete pulled away his gaze fell on Mickey, and you felt a knot of tension coil in the pit of your stomach. There was a shift in the air. A subtle change in your dads demeanor that set your heart racing with apprehension.

"Fanboy," Maverick spoke with an icy tone as he turned his attention to the charming pilot beside you. "Fancy seeing you here."

Mickey's easy grin faltered and was replaced by a look of uncertainty as he met Maverick's gaze. "Hey, Maverick," he replied. His voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Didn't expect to run into you here. You’re not usually here after missions."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them. The air thick with unspoken tension as Maverick's gaze bore into Mickey with an intensity that made you squirm in your barstool. Finally, Pete spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "No funny business with my daughter, Garcia," he said. His words a thinly veiled warning. "Or you'll answer to me."

Mickey swallowed hard. The weight of Maverick's stare bearing down on him like a leaden weight. "Yes, sir," he replied. His voice was barely above a whisper as he nodded in silent acquiescence.

And as Maverick turned away with his arm slipping around your shoulders in a protective gesture. You couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for you with Mickey. The chemistry between the two of you was something you’d never experienced before. There had to be something more. You felt caught between the love of a father and the allure of the skies.

It had been years since that fateful meeting at the Hard Deck, years filled with adventure, love, and the occasional heart-stopping moment as you watched your husband and father take to the skies together. But through it all you had remained steadfast in your support for both of them.

As you stood there the memories of that first encounter with Mickey came flooding back. A bittersweet reminder of how far you had come since that chance meeting. Now, as you awaited their return, your heart swelled with a mixture of pride and worry. You knew all too well the dangers that lurked beyond the clouds. But despite the nagging fear that gnawed at your insides you refused to let it consume you. You had learned to trust in Mickey's skill and your dads experience.

Your thoughts then took to earlier on in the week when you father broke the news he was taking your now husband with him to go fly a mission in Russia. He couldn’t tell you the details, but you knew it was going to be risky. Anything overseas always was. A pit formed in your stomach at the thought of the two most important guys in your life putting their lives in danger once again.

Unable to contain your fears any longer you turned to your father with a pleading look in your eyes. "Dad, you can't do this," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "You can't take Mickey on this mission. It's too dangerous dad!"

Maverick's expression hardened. His jaw tightening as he met your gaze with a steely resolve. "I have to, sweetheart," he replied with a sorrowful look as his voice firm but tinged with regret. "We're the best chance they've got and Mickey's one of the best damn WSO’s I know."

You shook your head. The frustration and fear bubbling up inside you like a tempest ready to burst. "But it's not fair," you cried out as the words tumbled out in a rush. "Both of you don’t need to go. How about just you? Or him? Not both of you! I can't take it dad. Please" You knew the pleading would likely fall on deaf ears, but you had to try.

Your voice cracked with emotion. Tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of your fear threatened to crush you. You had spent countless nights lying awake dreading this exact moment when the call would come. One that summoned your father and husband into the heart of danger once again but farther away than you thought possible.

This time felt different, the stakes higher than ever before. And as you stood there with anger and despair boiling over inside you, you knew that you couldn't bear the thought of losing them both, not now, not ever.

Maverick's expression softened. A rare flicker of sympathy crossing his features as he reached out to pull you into a comforting embrace. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice gentle against your ear. "But we have a job to do, and we'll come back to you, I promise."

You clung to him like a scared five-year-old but you really couldn’t care. You were terrified. The weight of his words offering a sliver of solace amidst the storm of uncertainty you prayed with all your heart that his promise would hold true. That both your father and husband would return to you unscathed once more.

The anticipation was palpable as you stood on the base. Your eyes fixed on the horizon where the carrier would soon appear. It had been over a week since you last saw your husband, and your father depart on their mission. Each moment of their absence had felt like an eternity.

But now as the massive silhouette of the carrier emerged from the vast expanse of the ocean your heart leaped with relief. They were back. They were safe. You knew it because you hadn't received that dreaded call. The one that brought news of tragedy and loss. Still, despite the reassurance a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach as you waited for them to disembark. You couldn't shake the lingering worry, the fear of the unknown that had plagued you since the moment they left.

And then, finally, the gangplank descended, and a surge of relief washed over you as you caught sight of familiar figures making their way down onto the dock. Your heart raced as you scanned the crowd searching for the faces you longed to see.

And there they were.

Your father emerged first with his iconic aviator shades shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. Beside him, Mickey walked with a confident stride. His tattered flight suit a testament to the adventure they had just returned from.

Without a second thought you rushed forward ignoring the protests from the officers guarding the walkway. Your heart pounded with a mixture of joy and apprehension. They were here. They were safe. But still you needed to see them with your own eyes. To feel the reassuring warmth of their embrace. His embrace. Your husband and beloved.

Without hesitation you rushed forward to you husband. Your arms outstretched as you leaped into his embrace wrapping your legs around his waist. "Babe!" you exclaimed while happily peppering his cheeks with kisses. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you? I missed you so much! Don’t go for that long again, please." Your eyes scanned his frame for any sign of distress.

Mickey laughed while wrapping his arms tightly around you and returning your kisses with equal fervor. "I'm fine, honey," he reassured you, his voice filled with affection. "Not a scratch on me. I missed you more than you know pretty lady." He gave you a squeeze as he held you in his arms as the both of you ignored the bewildered captain beside you.

Your attention wholly focused on the man holding you in his strong arms. But when you finally pulled back you couldn't help but notice the grin spreading across your fathers face as he watched the reunion between his daughter and son-in-law.

"Looks like someone's glad to see her husband and not so much her old man," he remarked with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

You flushed with embarrassment realizing you had been so caught up in your reunion with Mickey that you had all but forgotten all about your father. But as you glanced back at him you found nothing but warmth and understanding in his expression.

"Sorry, Dad," you said sheepishly. "I was just... really glad to see Mickey. It’s good to see you too." As you attempted to slip down from Mickey's hold expecting to stand on your own feet again, you felt him tighten his grip around you. He wasn't willing to let you go just yet and a warm sense of contentment washed over you as you remained enveloped in his embrace.

Maverick chuckled. His eyes had a knowing amusement in them as he watched the scene unfold. "I can see that," he replied. His voice tinged with pride. "I see I’ve officially been replaced."

You grinned with your cheeks flushing with affectionate embarrassment at your father's teasing remark. "Well, Dad," you spoke playfully jabbing his shoulder from Mickey’s hold. "I think there's enough love to go around for both of you."

Pete laughed. "I suppose so," His voice filled with warmth as he spoke. "Just don't forget who taught him everything he knows."

You smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for the two most important men in your life. "I could never forget.”

As Maverick chuckled, shaking his head, and walked away he left just the two of you there to continue on. Mickey still held you close in his arms. His embrace filled with a longing that mirrored your own. With Pete out of sight he seemed to pull you even closer. His touch igniting that usual fire within you.

Feeling his warmth enveloping you, you melted into his embrace. Your body fitting perfectly against his. His lips found yours in a hungry kiss. A silent declaration of his desire and his longing for you. The kiss deepened becoming more passionate as if he couldn't get enough of you after being apart for too long.

When he finally pulled back his breath came out in ragged gasps. He pressed his forehead against yours with eyes dark full of desire. "God, I missed you," he murmured. His voice husky with emotion. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes as he winked suggestively. His lips curling into a playful grin. And as you stood there wrapped in his embrace surrounded by the sights, and sounds of the base, you knew that the reunion you had been longing for was just beginning.

With a shared smirk Mickey held you a as tight as he could without squeezing you completely. His gaze was filled with promises of the passion to come. "Let's get out of here my love," he whispered. His voice low and intimate. "I want to show you just how much I missed you." The earned a giggle out of you as you knew he meant business when it came to that look.

And with that he carried you effortlessly towards your car. Each step filled with anticipation and desire. With a thrill of excitement coursing through you, you knew that the night ahead held endless possibilities. And you couldn't wait to explore them all with the man you loved.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @abbersreads @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

#mickey garcia imagine #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia fluff #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia fanfic #mickey garcia #mickey garcia x y/n #mickey garcia x reader #robert bob floyd #dagger squad #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #mickey garcia angst #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #fanboy x y/n #fanboy fluff #fanboy angst #fanboy imagine #fanboy oneshot #mickey garcia oneshot #top gun movie #top gun fanfiction #top gun masterlist #top gun x y/n #top gun x you #top gun x oc

[desert-fern]

I Just Need a Hug - Mickey Garcia X Reader

Pairing: Mickey Garcia X Reader

Summary: Your week has been awful; your boss is a dick, you're overworked, and you just want to scream. When your husband beats you home, you can only hope to keep it together long enough for you to handle it on your own. Unfortunately, Mickey has a different idea.

Warnings: your boss is a dick (a small dose of misogyny for added measure), Mickey being an absolute gem, cuddles, crying, bad days, barely proofread, again very self indulgent...

Word Count: 3k

===

Fucking men! You had had it up to the atmosphere with how done you are. In another spectacular combination of how much shit you could take, your day had sucked. Your supervisor, a middle aged man who was clearly done with life, had decided to make his problems your problems and now you were now stuck managing two entire labs as well as supervising your own projects. So it was only natural that your head was pounding as you pushed your way through the double doors leading to the parking garage. 

Everything hurt and you felt restless, like there were ants crawling under your skin. It was enough to make you shudder. You took a deep breath, blowing out the air and trying to get the proverbial monkey off your back. But it was no use. The monkey stayed stuck, and your mind continued to race through the endless possibilities of how you could have been better, how you could have been more organised, how everything seemed to fall at your feet. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

None of it was. You were good at your job, you wouldn’t have been promoted if you weren’t. So why then, did this one fucking man feel the need to belittle you and act like you were his emotional trash can? 

The thought was enough to make you cry as you drove home. Road noise blurred together with a stupid repetitive song on the radio and it was making you more anxious by the second. But turning it off didn’t help. 

It was like whatever was crawling under your skin had settled there, content to move around as much as it wanted. And it did. You felt itchy, your head pounding with both a headache and from the stress that clung to you from work. 

Your drive passed in a blur. It definitely wasn’t the safest you’d ever been while driving but your head had firmly trapped you in a feedback loop, forcing you to relive the painful moments from today, over and over and over. 

Sometimes your brain was a cruel fucker.

Parking in your driveway was simultaneously the best and the worst thing to happen to you today. It was a relief to be home, to finally get to see your husband after he’d been gone for a week. Of course you’d seen him yesterday, had your own little reunion last night, and early this morning, but it also meant that you couldn’t just shrug this funk off like you were used to doing. 

Mickey would goad you into telling him what happened. His kind brown eyes were always able to pull a confession from your lips, whether you wanted to or not. It endeared him to you and frustrated you to no end because some days, you just didn’t want to talk. 

Trudging up the steps, you unlocked the door and dropped your bags on the floor of the entryway. Your keys clattered in the little bowl that they lived in while not in use, and you could hear Mickey moving around nearby. He was either in the kitchen or the living room, and you weren’t ready to talk just yet. So you slipped your shoes off, creeping up the stairs as quietly as you could. 

You weren’t avoiding him on purpose. 

Who were you kidding? You definitely were. 

But you had your reasons. 

You just needed some space, that’s all. Time to de-people as Mickey had taken to calling it. But the way your head was buzzing was new. You had only just flopped back on the bed, blowing out a deep breath, when your clothes suddenly felt too tight, your throat too dry, and your mind too busy. 

You drew a shuddering breath, trying to will away this funk that had settled deep in your bones. “Just get changed,” you told yourself. “You’ll feel way better.” The calm and rational part of your brain was whirring brokenly, clunking along to the same rhythm as the pounding in your head. 

Hands shaking, you undid your belt and struggled to undo the button of your work pants, making you swear violently, and the frustration bubbled over until you could do nothing but slide to the floor and bury your face in your knees. 

Mickey had heard the thump from upstairs and turned the music down in the kitchen to listen for any noise to indicate what had just happened. “Mi vida? You okay?”

You heard his voice from downstairs, the not so subtle emphasis on his last question. He knew. 

Fuck. 

You were trying so hard not to worry him. He’d just gotten home after a routine training course a few hours away in Lemoore that had had him away for just over a week. Mickey would be tired. He didn’t need to deal with this. 

You could keep it together for dinner. 

So you drew in a few more shaky breaths, pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, drawing bright sparks of colour flashing through your vision, and stood up. A few more tries and you undid the button on your pants, pulling them off as though they would bite you and throwing them in the direction of the hamper. Your shirt was next and you found yourself flopping back onto the bed, groaning. The task was simple enough, but between the sensory overload, the tag of your shirt scraping the back of your neck, and the sheer overwhelming nature of the task, you found yourself unwilling to even attempt it.

It could have been minutes or hours later, but you had plucked up enough courage and stripped off your work shirt before rifling through your husband’s drawers to find the softest, most worn shirt he had: the baby blue one that he had purposefully bought a little larger.

It felt like security. Like a safety net. 

And it always made him smile when he saw you in it. Mickey had never told you why it made him grin his thousand watt smile, but you loved it because the glimmer in his brown eyes always seemed to shine brighter whenever you grabbed this shirt. 

Putting it on felt like heaven. The soft fabric draped over you, warming where your skin touched it, and you could finally breathe. Mickey’s cologne washed over you, replacing the anger, the frustration that had coursed through your veins with the comfort and warmth that always radiated from your husband.  

For the first time since you left work, you were able to draw a full breath. 

All because of your husband. 

Downstairs, Mickey had gone back to making dinner, listening over the music as he heard you moving around. The creaking of the wooden steps had given away your journey from the bedroom, but he still pretended not to see you until you wrapped your arms around him from behind, burying your face against his shoulder blade. 

“Hey Mouse.” Your voice was muffled against his skin, very glad at how your husband had forgone a shirt this evening. He was warm from the stove and shone in the dwindling golden light from the sun through the window. The short curls that Mickey had let grow out in his time between deployments, glimmered in that same light, scattering threads of gold through his normally deep black hair. 

You had been awestruck by his beauty when you had first laid eyes on him, and now? Now, even with your eyes screwed shut and face pressed into his back, you could see him behind your closed eyelids as clear as could be.  

“Mi vida.” You felt the rumble of his voice beneath your cheek and grimaced slightly when Mickey pulled away, the pan before him clanking against the back of the stove as he turned off the burner. “I missed you, carina.” 

“I missed you too.” 

He drew you back into his arms, pressing a few kisses to your temple as you pushed your face into his neck, breathing him in. “No kisses for me, carina? What’s a man to do?” Mickey’s gentle teasing had you moving to look at him despite your better judgement, knowing that he’d seen right through the feeble mask you’d slapped on before coming downstairs. 

“Sorry baby. My head’s busy tonight.” Mickey glanced down at you before grinning into your kiss. “I missed you all week, Mouse. The house was really quiet.” Your voice was small as you suddenly fought off a wave of tears that wanted to fall, the shift in your body language jarringly abrupt and had your husband glancing down in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong. What are you making?” 

“That spicy pasta you love. What’s going on?” Mickey dismissed your attempt at shaking off his question and the furrow between his brows had your stomach sinking. The intelligence in those chocolate brown eyes combined with that little furrow made you want to dash your soul at his feet and beg him to fix you, but you couldn’t. 

You wouldn’t drop this on him on his first day back. 

Trapped in your thoughts, you went over the last week in your head. Your boss had called you too emotional three days ago in a poor excuse for a reason why you were suddenly doing more work for less money. You fought him on his excuses, calling his bluff at every turn, demanding answers. 

The dogged nature that had worked in your boss’s favour too many times had been turned on him, and as expected, he was not a fan. You knew that you were entitled to these answers, that you deserved an explanation for your troubles. 

“This is why I don’t work with women. They can’t be objective. Stop being hysterical and get back to work.” Your boss’s words echoed through your head, reigniting the frustration, the suffocating feeling you had had and turned your husband’s arms into what felt like prison bars. 

“… vida? Mi vida, what happened? Where’d you go?” Snapping back to reality, you jolted back, pulling out of your husband’s arms. You heard the confused sound that slipped from his throat and it sent waves of regret crashing against your heart. “Mi vida?” 

You couldn’t meet his gaze, staring at your bare feet. You knew that Mickey was watching you, you could feel the heat of his eyes as they ran over you. He was hurt, that much you knew. 

And you wanted to fix it, but it was like your mouth had been sewn shut, your mind’s vocabulary erased in an instant. You couldn’t describe what you felt, let alone explain it to your husband as you stood lamely before him. 

The lump in your throat grew as tears pricked your eyes. You squeezed them shut, trying to prevent the waves of emotions slamming into you, but it was no use. 

With a strangled sound, you crumpled to the floor, drawing your arms around yourself and letting the dam break. Tears flowed down your cheeks in rivers, your breathing turning ragged and desperate as you cried. 

Mickey was beside you in a heartbeat, pulling you onto his lap, and holding you to his chest, uncaring of your tears wetting his skin. His heart broke for you, wanting so desperately to fix whatever had made you break down like this. Distantly, he heard his mother telling him “Mijo, sometimes a girl just needs to cry. You don’t have to fix a thing, just be there,” and he resolved to do just that. 

So he sat there on the cold, hard floor, arms wrapped around you and let you cry away the pain and tension of the last few days. He had begun humming gently, pressing gentle kisses to your temple, and occasionally, letting reassurances fall from his tongue in the Spanish he knew you loved to hear. 

If a few tears fell from his own eyes, he would never tell you. You needed this cathartic release and Mickey was just glad that he had been here for you. “I’ve got you, mi vida. It’s okay. Let it out.”

You could feel the heat of Mickey’s palm gently moving up and down your back, drawing you back into reality as your sobs quieted and eventually stopped all together. “Mickey,” you murmured into his neck. 

“I’m here, carina. I’m not going anywhere.” The softness of his voice damn near set you off again and you cuddled closer to his chest like you were trying to crawl into his skin. Mickey kissed your forehead gently, burying his nose in your hair, trying to offer a fraction of the comfort you gave him on a day to day basis. 

“I know, Mouse.” Your voice was hoarse from your sobs and you hated how wet it sounded. It sounded weak to your ears and it was exactly the kind of reaction that your boss would condemn. “I’m sorry.” 

“Carina. Look at me.” Your husband’s voice was quiet but firm, refusing to hear another apology fall from your lips. “Never apologize to me for something like this. You hear?” 

“But..” 

“But nothing.” Mickey had taken your chin between his fingers, gently pulling your face from his neck to meet his eyes. “We said ‘for better or worse’, didn’t we?” 

At your wordless nod, he continued. “Then you know I mean it. What would you say if I apologized after a nightmare, hmm? That you are here, that you aren’t going anywhere, right?” 

Another nod. 

“So believe me, mi vida, when I say that it would take a whole lot more than you ugly crying all over me for me to even entertain the idea of leaving.” Mickey’s chest rose and fell under your hands, breathing deeply after his speech. “Te amo, carina. Te amo mucho.” 

“I love you too,” you whispered, leaning forward to rest your head against his. Your heart felt lighter after you cried, but you still felt strangely numb. 

Mickey kissed you gently, your first real kiss since you had come home. The first time you had kissed him in a week. It was like coming home and when he pulled away, you nearly whined. “None of that now,” Mickey whispered. “You still have to tell me what happened to make you so upset.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly shut it at the look in your husband’s eyes. There would be no dissuading him from this. You swallowed harshly, ducking your head back into his neck. You were still trying to avoid the gentle curiosity and worry that blended together in the eyes of the man you loved. “Had a shit day and I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Mmm.” Mickey’s quiet hum made you smile for some reason. “You know mi vida, a woman I love very much once told me that letting a bad day fester is never good, and that the best cure is a big hug and ranting and raving like a lunatic.” 

You groaned, hating when he used your own words against you. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“Did you? I could have sworn that that was my other wife,” he teased, chuckling at the face you made at his words. “Not to worry, carina. There never has been anyone but you since the day I met you.” 

“I know Mouse. I know.” Your head had gone fuzzy with the multitude of ways to explain your past week but none of them flowed together in a way that communicated even a fraction of your experience. “I… I just don’t know how to begin…” you trailed off, risking a look up at his face. 

Mickey was watching you, his rich brown eyes meeting yours and holding your gaze. An unspoken intensity lingered there, but knowing your husband, he wouldn’t pry. But he never had to. His gentle eyes, his strong arms around you, and the soft strength in which he carried himself never failed to make you feel safe and you wanted  to spill your guts. Dash every hope, wish, prayer, and thought you had made during the week at Mickey’s feet. You wanted… Well, you didn’t know what you wanted. 

Sensing your dissociation, Mickey poked the end of your nose, chuckling when you jolted at the feeling. “Just start from where you can, okay mi vida?” 

And you did. Your story rambling and twisting as you tried to detail every last horrible second of your week when Mickey was away. He sat quietly, listening to every stumbled over word, nodding and making small sounds of acknowledgement, support, or whatever the moment called for, and you found yourself falling more for your husband. 

Once you had finished your rant, you seemed to collapse into Mickey’s chest, your palm coming up to rest against his pec, settling into his arms. He tilted your chin up to gaze at your face, smiling and began peppering your face with kisses until you started giggling. 

“Mouse!” You shrieked, swatting at him playfully. 

Mickey kissed your chin once more before moving to kiss you gently. After a week apart, kissing him seemed to act like a balm over the wounds inflicted during the week. “I love you, mi vida.” 

“I love you more.” 

“Not possible.” 

You slowly untangled yourself from him, standing up. “Come on. You have to be hungry.” 

Mickey’s eyes narrowed playfully. “I certainly am.” He stood after you, moving quickly and caging you against the counter. “But I never said anything about food…” 

“Mouse…” Your nickname for your husband came out in a gasp as he stood over you. He moved to drop to his knees, but you caught his elbow, pulling him back up and hugging him tightly. “I just need this first. And maybe food because I didn’t get lunch today.” 

Your husband smiled, content to just stay like this, with his arms tight around you. Sex could wait, food and what you had deemed cuddles were what you needed most right now. And Mickey would be damned if he didn’t give you what you needed. Even if you just needed a hug.

===

A/N: If this came to you on a day that you needed it, I'm so happy that it could be a smidge of comfort for you. If you need more cuddles, check out my one and only Bradley one-shot "A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"

Tagging a few possible interested people: @roosterforme @joaquinwhorres @sarahsmi13s @roosters-girl @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @cassiemitchell @thedroneranger @lovinglyeternal @bradleybeachbabe @twsssmlmaa @becks-things @blue-aconite @teacupsandtopgun @beccaanne814

#I Just Need a Hug #mickey fanboy garcia imagine #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia x you #purely self indulgent #idk idk

[spidervee]

Hello there! If your requests are still open, maybe the Top Gun men with a short! reader

not me, a short!reader, completely being self indulgent 🌻💛 hope you enjoy, love! 18+ only; fem!reader, some sexual stuff, but mostly fluff!

jake “hangman” seresin

can you say size kink?

jake loves that he’s taller than you, that he practically towers over you and he cannot get enough of caging you in between his arms while you’re pressed against a wall

takes you home to Texas and loves that he has to pull out the little portable stairs for you to get on your horse because it’s what he used for the local kids when he was fifteen and teaching horseback riding to make some extra cash

when you move in together, he’s always picking you up and setting you on the kitchen counter so he can stand between your legs and kiss you

he’s got a mouth on him so he’s not above making little jokes like “hey baby, since you’re already so close to the ground…wanna get on your knees for me?” (you may swat at him, but then your knees are digging into the carpet so quick)

bradley “rooster” bradshaw

when he first saw you, it was at a little donut shop with a walk through window and, admittedly, the damn thing is set up like every customer is an NBA player, but your chin barely scrapes the counter and he can’t help but to laugh from his place in line behind you

buys you the prettiest heels to wear and makes you keep them on in bed

helps you in and out of the bronco, always—and we’re not talking just holding your hand and guiding you down. No, he’s full on hands on waist lifting you, giving you a little spin, and then setting you down all soft and kissing the top of your head

when you’re pregnant? forget it? the man thinks you’re the cutest little thing in a daily basis but with that belly? Bradley doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how good you look carrying the baby the two of you made

teasingly uses your shoulder as an arm rest until you take to tickling him every time he tries it

mickey “fanboy” garcia

you’re short, sure, but as Mickey has learned over the years, you’re feisty as hell

he hates that people tend to try to take advantage of you because you’re short and sweet-looking, but he also secretly enjoys watching the looks of shock when someone (usually an old, tall, white dude) tries to cut you in line at Starbucks or leers at you and you snap at them with a few choice words

loves keeping you tucked up into his side and being the big spoon but he knows that you also enjoy being the big spoon so he gives you your turn

when he comes home from deployment, you wrap yourself around him like a koala and he wouldn’t have it any other way

calls you yoda “because you’re so little, amore.”

robert “bob” floyd

Bob is super tall and overall just large, so much so that your taller friends teasingly say they hate you for pulling him because “what about us?”

your feet don’t touch the ground when you’re sitting at the bar at The Hard Deck and Bob always gets a good little laugh out of that (bonus: you generally just like sitting on his lap because it’s an excuse as to why your feet are dangling

javy “coyote” machado

you love to tackle him whenever he gets home from deployment, just straight up clotheslining him as he comes in the door, but you’re not quite strong enough to tip him over

of course, javy knows this and just pulls the both of you to the ground anyway, where he proceeds to tickle you

you’ve gotten used to climbing the counters at your apartment to reach the high shelves. when you start dating javy, he literally builds you a step-stool so you don’t have to go acrobatics to reach the wine glasses

#jake seresin x you #jake hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia x reader #fanboy x you #fanboy x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine

[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   

#mickey fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #mickey garcia x reader #mickey 'fanboy' garcia x reader #fanboy garcia x you #mickey garcia x you #mickey 'fanboy' garcia x you #mickey fanboy garcia x you #fanboy x you #fanboy x cielo #mickey 'fanboy' garcia x cielo #mickey garcia fic #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #mickey garcia smut #mickey garcia fluff #danny ramirez #danny ramirez fluff #fanboy fluff #fanboy smut

[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.

#mickey fanboy garcia x you #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia #fanboy x reader #fanboy top gun #fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy imagine #fanboy garcia x you #fanboy garcia #fanboy fic #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic

[bussyslayer333]

i don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you

summary: midnight conversations with your boyfriend mickey

pairing: mickey garcia x girlfriend!reader

word count: 0.5k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, general nonsense hehe

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” you question, eyes intently locked on his.

“Yes. Next question.” Mickey answers simply.

“No, let’s circle back. I want an explanation.”

Mickey stares in your eyes for a moment. He’s conjuring up the correct answer.

You’re both lying on the grass in your garden, beer bottles lying to the side of you. You were hosting a small get together with your friends at your house, everyone had left now. Leaving you and Mickey basking in the warm breeze brought by summers in San Diego, even at just gone midnight.

“I have a question.” Mickey finally decides.

“Shoot, my love.” You hum.

“Are we still able to communicate?”

“Hmmmmm. Considering you’re a human and I’m a worm; probably not. However, I think our love transcends those barriers so maybe.”

Mickey nods, taking in what you’ve said. “What if I found a way to become a worm as well, then we could both be worms and we could build a little worm life together.”

You squeeze his hand that is intertwined with yours, “that sounds nice.”

“I know right. Can I ask a question now?” He continues.

“Of course.” You lean up only to take a sip from your beer then lay your head back down amongst the grass.

“Would you rather we be a couple of worms or a couple of butterflies?”

“That’s a tough one.” You declare, “okay give me the facts.”

“We stay together no matter which one we become. But, in one we are worms and the other we are butterflies.” He answers, reaching a hand forward to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

He leaves his hand on your face, stroking at your cheek absentmindedly.

“Upon first inspection, I would say butterflies because they’re cuter obviously, but now i’m thinking about us living in a cute little vegetable patch as worms. Ooh could it be Bob’s veg patch?” You rant.

“The vegetable patch is wherever you want, baby.” He coos.

You nod in acknowledgment, “okay so we’re in Bob’s bountiful vegetable patch and we’re creating fertile soil so his vegetable’s can flourish as well as just having fun being a worm power couple.”

“Bet the other worms are so jealous,” Mickey chuckles.

“Totally. We’re like the Beyoncé and Jay-Z of worm couples.” You giggle.

Mickey rolls over and cages his arms above your head. He leans down and smushes his lips into yours. It’s kind of sloppy from both ends, and when you pull back breathless there is a string of spit connecting the two of you.

“Should we go inside, wormy?” He asks, rolling back down and pulling you into his chest.

You rest your head on his pec and look up to the moon.

“Five more minutes, wormy?” You tease.

“Fine.” He smiles.

“Why do we end up worms in all of these scenarios?” You ponder.

“I think it’s just testament to the idea that we’ll always find each other.” Mickey affirms.

You hum. “Sounds about right.”

a/n: sorry if this is crazy 😭😭 i just thought the worm question needed to be asked and obviously mickey would be the only to answer correctly

i hope u enjoy this weird little piece,, pls comment or reblog and tell me what you thought hehe

jake fic will be posted soon!

ty for reading!!

- honey <333

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fandom #top gun fanboy #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #mickey garcia imagine #fanboy top gun #fanboy imagine #danny ramirez #top gun imagine

[ohtobeleah]

Nav // Mickey Garcia

Summary: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia has been keeping a secret, or three, from his new found family. After finding out he’d been transferred to North Island on a more permanent basis—he thinks now is as good a time as any to let the secret out.

Warnings. Believe it or not—this is a fluff piece. Fanboy x female reader. Slight mention of Smut.

Word Count: 5.1k

Author Note: This weekend we welcomed Rhett Abbott and Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia to the every growing list of fictional men I’d let rail me. This is such a fandom fluff piece, but it’s what you’re getting so either take it or don’t. Idk.

Callsings. Everyone had one–every one carried a story, a reason behind the name that colleagues and superior officers referred to you as and knew you as. Once you had your call sign it stuck to you like super glue. There was no changing it, no hiding from it, no running from the probably embarrassing story that the callsign was born from the ashes of or trying to fix the personality trait that people hated enough to give you shit for or loved enough to want to remind you of every day. 

For Mickey Garcia, his callsign had two stories. The first was the most commonly told whenever he was asked about it. He was simply a nerd. He loved all things Star Wars and Star Trek. He adored Battlestar Galactica and honestly? If it had a Star in the title he was convinced he’d already be obsessed with it if given the chance to binge the series or movie trilogy. He was a Fanboy, so much so his aviation helmet shared the same font as the Star Trek logo. He was obsessed, plain and simple. 

But there was also another thing Mickey Garcia was a huge fan of that earned him his callsign way back in the days of his fighter school training. He’d never forget the first time he heard you say it. Although he carried an encyclopaedic memory around, Mickey swore there was only ever one thing, one person, one gorgeous woman on his mind twenty for seven, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days of the year. 

The love of his life, his best friend (Don't tell Payback), his devoted wife. Mickey was well aware that he belonged in the sky. He’d wanted to be just like his father ever since he knew how to walk. There was never a question surrounding what Mickey Garcia would grow up to be. He spent more time in the sky than he did down on solid ground, that was just something you learnt to live with.

Mickey Garcia was also incredibly mindful of the fact his heart hadnt been to the earth since the first time he kissed you. When you loved him? You had sent it clear out of this world. He’d love you forever, be your devoted husband, lovingly and completely yours forever. 

“Nav and the kiddos settle in alright?” Payback asked as he and Fanboy ran through their pre-flight checks. “Kinda missed her annoying ass.” Fanboy chuckled softly in response, humming at the soft jab his best friend sent his wife. He knew the minor insult held no weight, hell–Payback had been the one who introduced the two of you in the first place. He knew you longer than Mickey and you had even been married for. 

“Only got a few boxes left to unpack.” Mickey explained as he checked all his weapon systems. “But yeah, it feels good to have them here, just not too sure how I'm gonna break it to the rest of the guys.” It wasn't that Mickey didn't want to tell the Dagger Squad, he always had every intention. But he wanted to make sure he could trust these people with his life before letting them into his family. After the events of the uranium mission and having been offered a permanent posting in North Island, Mickey felt the time was right. “Nav’s pretty keen to meet everyone though.”

That you were, so when Mickey mentioned that the gang were all meeting up on Saturday night for dinner and beers at their favourite watering hole, the Hard Deck, and wanted you and the kiddos to come along you were more than ecstatic to finally meet the people who had kept your husband safe. 

“Hey, Miles!” Mickey called out after the five year old who booked it from where he’d placed him down beside the car in the direction of the group of people who looked as if they’d transported into a parallel universe. “Miles! Hey buddy! Slow your roll alright.” Scooping up the tiny version of himself as Miles Garcia giggled at his own antics, Mickey caught sight of his squad. All staring at him wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Fanboy—who’s crotch goblin is that?” Hangman asked as he sneered and pointed at the child who now resided on his fathers hip. Watching as you came out from around the other side of the car with what seemed to be a smaller, very much younger version of the same child wrapped in a baby wrap around your chest. “And who’s this?” 

“Uh—“ Mickey cleared his throat as you made your way to his side, placing a gentle but loving kiss to his cheek before rubbing the small of his back for moral support. “Guys, this here’s my wife, Nav.” Smiling softly, you waved briefly before Mickey went on to introduce your kids. “This is Miles, he’s five and this is Morgan, she’s only—six months.” He hadn’t forgotten, but for a brief moment Mickey had to count with his fingers.

The silence was to be expected as the group of naval aviators who stood before you in the carpark of the Hard Deck Bar took in the new revelations that Fanboy was and had been married with kids the entire time they’d been in North Island. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you all.” You were the first to break the heavy silence. 

“You’re married?” Phoenix asked in disbelief, she was careful not to utter it in a way that you may have taken offense to. 

“You have kids?” Rooster couldn’t stop staring at the five year old in Mickey's arms. He looked so much like his dad it was kinda scary. 

“You had a family this whole time and didn’t tell anyone?” Hangman scoffed, he couldn’t believe it—how could Star Trek over here land a wife and two beautiful children but he couldn’t even get a damn date. “What if something had happened to you?”

“Ruben knew.” Fanboy explained as the group made their way inside, Phoenix instantly filed back to walk with you. She wanted to be the first person to tell you how great a guy your husband was—not that you didn’t already know. “He was my best man.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bob asked the question everyone was asking. It wasn’t a black or white response. But nevertheless Mickey tried his best as Penny pointed them all in the direction of the tables she’d placed together. 

“They mean everything to me, I guess I just wanted to make sure that you guys were all good people, good enough for them.” Although it hurt just the slightest amount, Bob understood. “Don’t tell him I said this but the jury is still out on Hangman—I just didn’t see another viable option of introducing Nav to everyone.” Bob couldn’t help but to laugh as he looked down at the child still in Mickey's arms. “I feel awful for not telling you sooner Bob.” 

“Don’t be, your family’s important, I understand wanting to keep them safe, keep them all to yourself.” 

Fanboy left it at that as he turned his attention back to settling his family down for dinner amongst his friends. Especially keeping an eye on you before settling in beside you. A hand gravitating to your knee under the table as Mickey looked into the wrap—Morgan sleeping soundly against your chest. 

“So Nav, what do you do for a living?” Hangman asked from across the table as you looked over to provide the sandy blonde your utmost attention. 

“I own a small photography business.” You were humble in your talents. “Boudoir mostly.” 

“Say Phoenix? You wanna get in on that action?” Rooster taunted as he popped a few peanuts in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows, leaning back on the chair he’d perched himself on across the table from Natasha. “I’ll volunteer as tribute.”

“In your wet dreams Bradshaw—“ Phoenix hissed as she took a sip of her beer. “That’s a pretty dramatic juxtaposition from a naval aviator?” Natasha turned her head back to you, watching as you soothed the little girl who was starting to stir in her wrap. “How’d you actually meet?” 

“The academy—“ Mickey interrupted as Miles got to work colouring with the crayons Payback had asked Penny for when he went to fix up the first round at the bar. Returning with beers and ample colouring supplies for his favourite five year old. “Y/n was in the Navy.” It was yet another revelation the gang had a hard time processing. “Everyone still calls her Nav though, a hard habit to kick.” 

Mickey Garcia wasn’t all that fly with the ladies, he never really had been. He’d had a few girlfriends in his short life but nothing ever lasted long enough for him to start thinking about a future with them, or a family for that matter. 

“Hey Mickey! I got a friend I want you to meet!” Ruben cried out from across the amphitheater. Mickey pried his eyes away from the book he’d been reading for five seconds to turn his head his best friend's way. He’d heard of the girl from across the street, but your paths had never had a chance to cross until now. “This is Y/n, Michelle’s younger sister.” Within the space of five entire seconds, the trajectory of Mickey's life changed forever. He’d never been a huge believer in love at first sight, but as you made yourself known out from behind Rubens shoulder? Mickey knew he was fucked, in over his head. 

“You must be Fanboy?” Mickey stood as you held your hand out to shake his. 

“Who?” He asked, smiling bright as he found himself getting lost in your eyes. Ruben just laughed to himself, knowing from this moment going forward he’d forever be known as the man who introduced Mickey Garcia to the literal love of his life. 

“Fanboy right? Ruben said you’re a big fan of Star Trek—“ Mickey had never laid his eyes on a woman more beautiful than you. 

“Oh he did, did he?” Deadpanning Ruban, Mickey held his glare for a few seconds before turning back to you. “Well uh—yeah I guess that’s me, Mickey Fanboy Garcia.” 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You had, and you’d loved everything you’d heard so far. So much so you’d begged Ruben to just cut the shit and introduce you already. He’d been dangling a carrot on a stick right in front of you for months.

“All good things I hope?” Mickey raised his eyebrow as you beamed his way, you’d definitely been shaking hands for far too long but you were both past the point of awkwardness, both just seeing who would break first. Smirking at one another like children. 

“Only the very best.” 

“I was uh, a navigation officer, callsign wasn’t all that unique but it did the trick.” You shrugged, looking around at all Mickey's friends as they tried to process everything they were learning. “I understand this is probably a lot for everyone.” 

“It’s not.” Rooster smiled as he looked at Fanboy. There’s been a switch flipped inside the proud mustache having aviator who loved a good Hawaiian shirt. “It just means that Fanboys got a lot more on the line than any of us ever thought.”

“Dadda?” The little boy sitting next to Mickey cooed just loud enough to gain his father’s attention. “I’m hungry—“

“Foods coming bud, here, you wanna sit on dad’s lap so you can tell all dads friends what you wanna be when you grow up?” The brown eyed, dark curly haired boy who looked far too much like Mickey scrambled from the seat he’d been sitting onto into his dads lap. Mickey let out an oof sound when Miles slammed his entire body weight down into his lap. He thought his dad was some kind of superhero who never felt pain or got tired. 

Whenever Mickey was deployed and on a detachment like he’d been on recently, you’d tell Miles that dad was off fighting bad guys and that once he knew everyone was safe and sound—he’d come home. Five year olds were easy to manipulate at bed time if you told them all the right things. 

“Go ahead buddy, tell ‘em what you told me.” Mickey coaxed the information he knew would melt his team's hearts out of his toddler by tickling his sides to invoke a chuckle so pure it even made Hangman smile. 

“I wanna be a superhero and fly planes like my Dadda.” 

“I never thought I’d hear someone say superhero and daddy in the same sentence while referring to Fanboy—“ Coyote snickered in the most wholesome way he could. “You got cute kids man I’ll give ya that.” 

“Nav, you look like you’re still glowing.” Bob mentioned cautiously. “You guys said Morgan’s only six months?” 

“Yeah—the last month and a bit was a little rough with the kiddos back in Miami while Mickey was stationed out here with you guys.” You were just thankful that everything had gone as well as it had and that everyone made it home. “But things are starting to mellow out.” 

“Do you not have paternity leave saved up Fanboy?” Jake Seresin was the last person Mickey ever thought that question would come from. But things weren’t that simple. 

“I’d basically just finished my leave when this assignment came about.” 

“It’s only for six weeks mamma.” Mickey cooed as he kissed your neck tenderly. Looking at you through the mirror of your bathroom as you applied a mud mask—Mickey had the same exact one plastered across his forehead and nose. His T-section. “I’ll be back before you even start to miss me.” 

“I know I know.” You smiled as softly as you possibly could. It wasn’t your husband’s fault he was government property and you knew better than anyone else now the Navy worked. “Still doesn’t change the fact it just be me and the kids—“

“I’ll call my parents and make sure they do a few weekends here and there.” It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would help to patch the leak you knew would spring from time to time. “You know I don’t wanna leave you guys here, my girls and my best guy.” 

“But duty calls right, superman?” You turned in Mickey's embrace, with one move he had you up resting atop the vanity—legs on either side of his hips as he stood better yours. Your arms flung over your husband’s shoulders as he drank in the sight of you. His wife, his beautiful best friend, the mother of his two gorgeous children. 

“Hey you started that shit, it’s not my fault he thinks that.” Mickey beamed, leaning in in search of your lips. Kissing you softly before deepening the moment. Mickey had always been a big fan of self care days, he was adamant that’s how you both ended up with Morgan. “I love you Nav—I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“When do you leave?” It was four words that never got easier to ask, Mickey let the silence linger in the bathroom for a moment—just enjoying the time he had with you. You made things so easy, made it so easy to love you and the kids. Made it so easy for him to love his job despite the distance because even on his worst days Mickey knew he would eventually come home to you and it would be like he never even left. You were far too good for him and he knew that. 

“Thursday.” Mickey said just barely above a whisper as he leaned in to kiss you again. This time more passionate, a lot slower, needier. “Thursday around noon, Payback and I are gonna catch a cab together to the airport, I didn’t want you having to wrangle the kids up just to pile into the car an—“ You cut Mickey off by pulling him closer by the elastic of his boxer briefs, snapping the material back against his lower abdomen when his lips were back on yours. The groan he let slip into your mouth almost made you want to try for another baby. But the two of you were very much happy with the two you already had. 

“Just promise you’ll come home to us?” You knew it was an empty promise, the ever looming possibility that something could go terribly wrong always crossed your mind. But you trusted Ruben to bring your husband home safely every time they flew. 

“Nav my dear, I’m lovingly and completely yours forever.” 

“Believing me, it was the longest six weeks of my life.” You sighed, running your hand gently over the sleeping baby girl wrapped up on your chest. “But we got through it and now it just feels good to be close again, I’ve heard such good things about all of you so I feel surrounded by family already.” 

Looking around the table as food started to arrived in bits and pieces. Mickey knew he had it all. He had his friends, he had his family and to him that’s all he ever really cared about. Hearing you laugh with Bob and challenging Hangman, watching you bond with Phoenix and click with Rooster. Mickey loved how Coyote sparked a flame inside you he hadn’t seen in years talking about what it was like to be a navigator. You didn’t talk about it all that much these days, you were just happy to be a mum and a devoted wife. But sometimes, every now and again you would miss the ocean. Missed what it was like to roam patrol boats and look longingly to whatever coast you were near. Mickey knew that, but Coyote challenged it. 

He loved his friends but they were now his family. Mickey Garcia had never felt so much love radiating around him as he sat with you and his children amongst the people who carried him throughout the day. His squad, his teammates. 

His family. 

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

A few months after the shocking discovery that Mickey Garcia was a husband and Father and not just some Fanboy Star Trek geek had settled in—the dagger squad had seemingly become like much loved furniture amongst the Garcia household. So much so that some had their own keys, some always had their hands up to babysit, some even knew that the back window was always slightly ajar and could be opened if drunkenly in search of a place to crash. 

Your house was the closest to the Hard Deck out of all the other houses that the daggers resided in, which meant more often than not you’d come down stairs in the early hours of the morning to feed Morgan and see a very hungover, very loudly snoring, very much passed out Jake Hangman Seresin on your couch. His chest sunken as he slept soundly, a small patch of drool seeping into the fabric with the back window cracked. 

“Jake—“ You’d nudged him, watching with a humorous smile as he jolted awake. “Coffee, drink it—then get out of my damn house.” 

“Yes mamma.” Jake would always reply, the term of endearment something the group picked up early into your friendship. Quickly becoming the one they all respectfully ran to with all their promises. The mum of the group.

Although Jake was the serial lounge hogger, it was Bradley Bradshaw who had once had a key and saw any time of the day or night to make himself at home. He never meant it in a malicious manner—he was just excited to be apart and of something bigger than himself for once. Neither you nor Mickey minded all that much—until Rooster had walked in on you and Mickey bare backing it on the same couch Jake would fling himself across after his drunken escapades. 

“So fucking pretty Nav.” Mickey cooed as you bounced on his length. Straddling his waist as his hands helps your hips steady—helping to guide you up and down at the pace you set. “God what did I ever do to deserve you—Ah fugh—!” 

“Ohhhh fuckk! Mickey baby you feel so good—why don’t you put another baby in me huh?” 

“Yeah? is that what you want darling girl? Another one of us?” He wasn’t going to say he hadn’t thought about it, a third little Garcia running around. The two you had were perfect, but a third? You’d be outnumbered. “You always look so pretty pregnant.” 

It was otherworldly the way Mickey looked up at you as he took your nipple into his mouth, you were still breastfeeding so the sensation of your husband sucking on your tits was all too much. Leaking into his mouth. 

“Ohhhh fughh! Mickey!” You were still bouncing, the head of Mickey cock kissing against your cervix as he slipped a hand between the pair of you to work you over. “I’m gonna—“ 

“Holy shit—“ Rooster stood in the entryway covering his eyes. “Holy shit I didn’t see anything!” The sound of your husband's co-worker standing in the entryway sent you skyrocketing off Mickey and fumbling for the nearest throw blanket. “Swear on my mother’s grave I saw nothing Mick!” 

“What the hell are you doing here Rooster! The door was locked!?” Mickey was holding a decorative pillow to cover his hard-on. His skin still flushed red because he was so fucking close it wasn’t funny—he was about to become a father of three. 

“You gave me a key?” Rooster caught himself smirking for a brief moment as the sound of The Jonas Brothers old number one hit ‘Burnin’ Up’ played through the house. It had been your song since yours and Mickey's Naval academy days. He’d gone as Joe Jonas one year for Halloween. The song itself had even played at your wedding. “Jonas Brothers? Really Fanboy, really?” 

“Bradshaw I’m a pacifist alright—“ Mickey sighed as he took a few steps towards the sandy blonde who was just in search of a ham and cheese sandwich. “But I’m about to pass my fist across your face.” It was needlessly to say Rooster, from that point going forward—always checked in before he entered with caution. 

But it didn’t mean the never ending revolving door of ragtag aviators stopped. No—if anything your house had never been fuller. 

“Hey Lovely.” You greeted Phoenix as she kicked her boots off, Bradley wasn’t too far behind her, next was Bob. “Here’s your Valentine’s Day package.” Unbeknownst to the group of aviators, a few months ago when Rooster had teased Phoenix about possibly taking up the opportunity to do a boudoir shoot with you, she actually said fuck it? And why not? She was a powerful woman after all who deserved to feel sexy and feminine. “There’s about fifty printouts, the dried petals from the roses and a thumb drive with like one hundred digital copies from the shoot on it.” 

“Thanks Nav—and honestly I can pay for it, really.” Natasha took the little box you gifted her before taking you into a warm embrace. 

“Don’t be silly, it’s on me.” Was all you said before you found yourself being hauled away by your screaming daughter, she was rather clinging at the moment and couldn’t be away from you for more than ten consecutive minutes before she thought the world was ending. It didn’t help that Mickey had shaved his head. She hardly recognised him at the moment. “Alright alright I’m coming darling.” 

“Did you actually do a boudoir shoot?” Rooster's hand slid up the side of Natasha's hip, pulling her into him as he whispered in her ear. “Because if so—“ Before Bradley has a chance to say he wouldn’t mind being privy to those private photos, Phoenix caught him out, leaving the taller, blonde aviator who’d subsequently stolen her heart over the course of a few years in a puddle on the floor in one of his best mate’s houses. 

“They’re your Valentine’s Day gift.” 

“Bob honey, you want a sandwich?” Mickey loved the way you just so effortlessly took care of his friends the same way you took care of him. “I’ve got peanut butter or I can do ham and cheese?” 

Bobs flushed a nice shade of red as he sat down beside Fanboy at the dining table, trying not to eavesdrop on the fact Rooster and Pheonix were in his peripheral vision practically eye fucking the ever living shit out of each other. 

“Ham and cheese please Nav.” Is all Bob utters before Miles is climbing into his lap. The two had a unique bond now that they practically wore the same kind of glasses. Miles thought he looked weird with glasses because none of the other kids in his glass wore them. But then Bob told him that his glasses could be his superhero disguise, for when he’s not saving the world like his dad. 

“Do you wanna play in the tree house with me uncle Bob?” How the fuck could he say no? Nodding softly before flipping the five year old over his shoulder. 

“Here, don’t forget your sandwich!” You cooed out as Bob made his way through the kitchen with your son strung upside down over his shoulder. “Eat before you go back to work, Mickey told me you passed out the other day because you hadn’t eaten since before seven.” Bob was quick to deadpan your husband as he took the sandwich you held out for him. Leaning in to kiss your cheek softly. 

“Thanks Nav.” He took a bite before pointing at Mickey, holding your son over his shoulder with one hand wrapped tight around the little boy's ankle as he laughed and screamed as the blood rushed to his head. “Snitches get stitches!” 

“Yeah dad! Snitches get stitches!” 

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

The Garcia household had become the home base for most things. Birthdays, public holidays, general get togethers, fried chicken Fridays, and seedy Sundays. But most importantly your humble abode had become the place people went to feel like they were at home. Not everyone was as fortunate to have their families in North Island. So you and Mickey became sort of the group mum and dad. 

“You aren't are you?” Ruben asked with wide eyes as you gifted him the small pair of socks that said best uncle ever on the tops. “You’re pregnant?” 

“After the display I walked in on a few months ago I'm shocked it hasn't come sooner–” Rooster mumbled as he looked at Mickey who sat nursing baby Morgan. Now a year old. “Congratulations by the way.” 

Your first two pregnancies had been pretty up and down. With baby Miles you suffered from hyperemesis. That was a little rough to get through when Mickey was deployed, but you had his mum and dad around to help you with things. He’d been your hospital birth baby. Epidural, all the drugs and medications readily available to help ease the pain. Morgan however, she’d been the at home birth baby. She was a breezy pregnancy so it made you wonder what it would be like to give birth at home unmedicated. 

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!” You were a sweaty mess as you laid back against Mickey in the blow up birthing pool in the middle of your living room floor. “I can't!! I can’t fucking do this!” 

“You can mamma, you’re so strong yeah? I've got you alright, you’re doing so well Nav.” Mickey had been a saint, he just knew what to do and when to do it. He was just thankful to be a part of such a magical experience. “You’re gonna bring our baby girl into the world–” It wasn't Mickey's fault that you were losing your mind from the pain. You just wanted it to be over, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as you cried in pain. 

“I fucking hate you for doing this to me.” Mickey couldn't help but to laugh softly as you placed a cool cloth against your forehead. “You did this to me, you idiot.” 

“I remember this being a two player game love, it wasn't just me.” There was not a single thing on this earth Mickey Fanboy Garcia wouldn't do for you. “You can’t not not deliver this baby Nav, she's coming regardless.” But when you groaned in agony? He wished more than anything he could take that pain away from you–but he couldn't. “You’re so beautiful–” 

“Oh my god it HURTS!” You shouted as another contraction took over your body, Mickey could feel how tight your belly was as the water lapped around your legs, spreading them to find more comfort as your doula walked you through what was going on from the edge of the pool. “Shut up Mick!” 

“Shutting up–” He mumbled as you groaned, so exhausted from your contractions. You didn't mean to lash out, so when your contraction was subsiding, giving you a little repreve for five seconds, you sobbed in in his shoulder-your back against his bare chest. 

“I didn't mean to call you an idiot, I'm sorry.” Mickey just kissed your temple lovingly. 

“You can call me whatever you want, I'm lovingly and completely yours forever.” 

“Yeah, congratulations guys, surely you’re gonna get the ol snip now hey Fanboy?” Jake smirked as he made a snipping gesture his way. 

“I've already booked the appointment for next month.” You added as you stood from your place in the living room. The entire group had come over for fried chicken friday. “If anyone else in the room wants to get a vasectomy let me know and I'll ring and add you to the booking.”

“Don't you dare come near me, that kinda shits barbaric.” Coyote cupped at his crotch. 

“It's minor surgery that can be reversed asshat.” Phoenix added as she slapped Javy upside the head in response to his statement. It made you all laugh for a moment until the conversation was drawn back to Bob’s latest conundrum. His crush on the new admin assistant in D block on base. It just felt like home when everyone was filling your home with laughter. Thinking back now you couldn't have imagined not knowing any of them. Ever. 

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

Callsings. 

Everyone had one–every one carried a story, a reason behind the name that colleagues and superior officers referred to you as and knew you as. Once you had your call sign it stuck to you like super glue. There was no changing it, no hiding from it, no running from the probably embarrassing story that the callsign was born from the ashes of or trying to fix the personality trait that people hated enough to give you shit for or loved enough to want to remind you of every day. 

For Mickey Garcia, his callsign had two stories. The first was the most commonly told whenever he was asked about it, whenever his friends and colleagues were asked about it. They could lie and say it was because he was the biggest nerd they knew, but they didn't. 

Each time Rooster or Bob, Phoenix of Payback, Hangman or Coyote were asked about their friends' callsign. They told the truth. And the fact of the matter was Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia was and forever would be lovingly and completely yours forever.

#mickey fanboy garcia #top gun fanboy #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia x female reader #fanboy x female reader #fanboy fluff #mickey garcia fluff #top gun fanfic #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction

[seresinsbabe]

Could you do Fanboy, smut list 3, #5 - "If you don't turn off that stupid video game and have sex with me, I'm gonna masturbate right here."

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+! mdni! lingerie, masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex (be smart with your parts)

Ash's 1K Follower Celebration

It wasn't often that his incessant gaming bugged you. Most of the time it worked for you two. Mickey would game and you would spend your day with a friend or doing whatever obscure crafting project you were hyper focusing on at the moment.

Today was one of those rare days where you craving his attention. You needed to feel Mick's hands all over you and instead they were all over that stupid Xbox controller.

That's what led you to the current position you were in now: clad in lingerie and perched on Mickey's lap, back pressed against his chest and your fingers fucking in and out of you. Every time he tried to touch you, you'd slap his hand away causing him to whine.

"I told you Mick," your fingers brushed against your sweet spot at the same time he sucked on the sweet spot behind your ear forcing a moan out of you. "That if you didn't shut this fucking game off I'd fuck myself in front of you."

Mickey adjusted his hips and pressed his hard on into your ass. He was trying to get some sort of relief in any way he could.

He didn't have an excuse. All he could do was mumble I'm sorry against your skin over and over.

Your intention was to make him watch you finger fuck yourself until you came, but you were slowly coming to the realization that your fingers weren't enough.

Spinning around you reached down, forcing his shorts down enough that his cock sprang free. Mickey watched with hungry eyes as you ran the bulbous mushroom top along your slit, covering it in your slick before sinking down on him.

"Holy shit," you breathed out. A strangled whine made its way out as you felt his fingers tangle in your hair. Mick adjusted his position, giving himself the leverage he needed to pound you from below.

His cock slamming into the spot you needed to feel him as you simultaneously bounced.

"Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Perfect-ungh...fucking pussy..." he breathed giving one last good thrust before you came crying out his name. His hips stuttered and shortly after he came, coating your walls with thick ropes of cum.

When you finally caught your breath you let out a soft laugh. "Finally broke in your new gaming chair."

#ash hits 1k #seresinsbabe 1k celebration #mickey garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy #mickey garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey fanboy garcia x you #fanboy x you #mickey garcia smut #mickey fanboy garcia smut #fanboy smut #tgm smut

[eternalsams]

Hello I really like your work!

Could I maybe make a request about the reader having anxiety and Fanboy dropping everything to go comfort the reader (who they’ve both secretly had a thing for each other) lots of fluff! Lol

OMG yes this is so cute!! Sorry it took so long, you probably don't even remember sending me this ask, but I have not forgotten!

Call me ⇴ M.Garcia

pairing: Mickey Garcia x gn!reader

summary: when things get rough, you know exactly who you have to call.

content/warnings: anxiety, panic attack, fluff, final exams (that should be a proper warning)

word count: 1.3k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration.

masterlist

You smiled at the picture on your phone, Mickey's smile illuminating the screen. He'd sent you a text just before leaving the locker room and joining his friends up in the sky. His goofy face always managed to stretch a smile onto your lips. You sent him an emoji blowing a kiss even though you knew he would only see it in a few hours when he'll be back on the ground. You put down your phone on your desk face down and looked back at your laptop, your smile fading quickly. You needed to study.

You managed to learn a good part of your subject before you heard your phone vibrate. You looked at the window and saw that the sun was now high in the sky. You sighed and answered your best friend. "Hey, Mickey!" You smiled, happy to get this break in your study session. "Hey! Did you see the picture I sent you?" He immediately asked. You chuckled and rubbed your forehead. "Yes, Mickey, I saw it. I even texted you back, didn't you see?" You could hear men voices behind him and figured out he was still in the locker room. The sound of his voice became a bit more distant, surely from the fact he put down his phone to change clothes. "Nah, sorry. I didn't check my messages, I immediately called you when we were dismissed." Wolf whistles were heard on the other end but Mickey was quick to make them stop with an insult.

You could hear him shuffle and then his voice got really close to the phone, as if he removed the speaker. "How's studying?" He asked, his tone way calmer now. You sighed and leaned back in your chair. "Boring." He chuckled and you heard him close his locker. "Yeah, I figured. Do you want me to come over and clear your mind?" You looked back at your laptop and scooted closer to it. "Nah, I'm good. I'm gonna study some more, I'll let you know if I need anything." He didn't say anything but you didn't need him to, you already knew how he felt about how hard you were on yourself about those exams. "I'm fine, Mickey. I hope you had fun today." You told him before he could even scold you. You heard him slightly sigh and could almost hear the smile stretching his lips as he answered you. "Take care, I love you." You smiled and made a kissing sound right to the phone. "Love you too, Fanboy." He groaned at the callsign. "Don't call me that!" You laughed some more before hanging up and turning off the sound on your phone. You put it back down and focused on your laptop.

Reading again and again the same words until they were engraved in your brain. You only took a quick pause to make yourself a tea to drink as you read the same words all over again. You didn't even notice the sun starting to go down until your stomach asked for food. You leaned back in your chair to stretch your muscles and glanced at the window, your eyes widening as you notice how late it must already be. You checked your phone and was horrified to see it was already 5 in the afternoon. You had barely done anything of your day and the final exams were coming soon. "No, no, no..." You closed your lesson and opened another one, if you couldn't learn everything by heart, you at least wanted to know the basics of each of them.

Your heart started beating faster as you read the lesson you wrote months ago in class. Why didn't you study sooner? Breathing through your nose turned out to be quite difficult as your lungs asked for more and more oxygen. Your hands started trembling as you tried to go through your lesson. You shook them firmly to get rid of the tremble but nothing seemed to help you at the moment. Tears blurred your sight and burned your eyes but you couldn't allow yourself to take the time to properly cry when those exams would determine if you can get a job or not. So you simply let the tears roll down your cheeks as you tried to read your lesson, holding your shaking hands and breathing heavily through your mouth. The first sob broke through your focus and you felt your chest clenching, squeezing your heart in your ribcage and feeling like you might die from suffocation. You brought a hand to your chest and whined in pain. You didn't know what was happening but you knew what to do.

You tentatively grabbed your phone and Mickey's warm smile greeted you on your lock screen. You searched for his contact and immediately put on the speaker, not trusting your hand to hold the phone during the call. It rang one. Two. Three times. "Hello?" His voice warmed your heart. You could hear voices behind him and music, sign that he was at the Hard Deck with his friends "Mickey?" Your shaking voice must have alarmed him cause you heard him excuse himself to his friends and the music faded behind him. "What's wrong?" He sounded so serious. "I..I don't know what's happening... I can't... I can't breathe." You quietly sobbed. "I'm on my way, don't move and try to slow your breathing." You tried to protest but he had already hung up on you. Your phone turned off automatically and you were once again alone with the bloody laptop.

Not even twenty minutes later, you heard your front door open after Mickey used the spare key you gave him a few months ago. He ran to you and wrapped you in his arms as you cried some more, feeling safer than ever against him. He rocked you against his chest, stroking comfortably your hair and murmuring sweet nothings to calm you down. You both let yourselves fall on the floor but he never let you go, holding you close to him. "It's okay, you're okay. Breathe with me, Angel." He took a big breath through his nose and waited for you to do the same. He then Breathed out through his mouth, watching attentively as you did the same, your exhale way shakier than his. "You're okay, you're with me." He kept rocking you until you completely calmed down. More tears rolled down your cheeks to soak Mickey's shirt but he really couldn't care less.

It felt like forever until you were both laying on the floor of your apartment, your gaze glued to the ceiling as his eyes couldn't leave your face. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked, almost in a whisper not to startle you. You swallowed and turned to him completely, resting your weight on your hip. "The exams. I'm so scared I'm gonna fail." Mickey immediately sighed at your answer and new teras threatened to spill but he quickly turned his body to you and gently grabbed your face to wipe your tears. "You're too hard on yourself, Angel." You pursed your lips and looked away as he scooted closer to you, opening his arms for you to snuggle in close. You quietly cried against his chest as he stroked your back soothingly. "Angel?" He called, stopping his movements on your back. "Hmm?" You answer, staying snuggled in his shirt. "Look at me, please." You leaned back and looked up at him, meeting his brown eyes. He softly smiled and closed the distance between you two, pressing a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips. Your eyes widened and you felt your face heat up as he looked back into yours eyes. "You're gonna nail it, I'm sure. You're the smartest person I know, no exam should scare you." He then kissed your forehead and tenderly tucked his chin on top of your head.

#fanboy #mickey garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #danny ramirez #fanboy x reader #mickey garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #fanboy fanfic #mickey garcia fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #fanboy x you #mickey garcia x you #mickey fanboy garcia x you #danny ramirez fanfic #danny ramirez x reader #danny ramirez x you

[siempre-bucky]

what happens when Mickey grows his hair out...

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x Fem!Reader

Summary: some snippets of moments between you two when Mickey grows his hair out

warnings: oral (fem receiving), mickey like his hair pulled, mentions of smut

You loved when Mickey took leave for many reasons. He’d be home for a few weeks, being able to see his face every morning and late-night movie marathons in your shared bed or on the couch. There was one thing you enjoyed the most: his hair. Mickey’s hair grew faster than the weeds in your front yard. In a couple of short weeks, his buzz cut transformed into a beautiful head of jet black curls. 

The moment he walked into the kitchen he saw that look in your eye, “You good, mi amor?” he chuckled as he walked to the fridge, tilting the brim of his baseball cap. 

“Take it off, Mickey,” you told him, your grin widening. 

He turned around, confusion written all over his face. His deep brown eyes watched as your eyes flickered from his face up to his head. The wso smirked and sauntered over to you, placing his arms on the sides of the counter to cage you in. reaching up, you pulled the dark blue hat off to let his short curls spill from the top. “Love when your hair’s like this,” you bit back a small moan as you carded your fingers through the soft locks of hair. 

Mickey thought his hair was a struggle when he grew it out. He no longer could use his beloved 2-n-1 that you two playfully bickered about all the time, it kept getting in his face and tickling his forehead. Yet he put up with it for you, seeing your face light up when he stepped out of the shower with the wet curls stuck to his face and how you’d laugh when it tickled your nose when he hovered over you. 

—

“Can I braid it?” you asked one night while he had his head in your lap, his favorite movie on the tv in front of you. Mickey smiled and fanned out his hair over your thighs. 

“Sure, cariño,” he hummed, his attention still on the tv. 

You could do this for hours, running your hands through his soft hair and braiding small sections before undoing it just to do it all over again. Sometimes Mickey would fall asleep to the feeling of your fingernails gently scraping his scalp, one of the few times he felt totally and completely relaxed. 

—

Mickey hated to admit he liked the attention to his hair, made his head all nice and fuzzy when you touched it. 

“Baby,” he sang as he walked out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips. 

“Hmm?” you looked up from your phone, breaking out into a smile as he sheepishly looked at you from the foot of the bed. 

He pressed the back of the brush to his nose and looked at you with big eyes, “Will you brush my hair?”  

Giggling, you sat up straight and pulled him into your lap, ignoring how wet your shirt was getting. He sat up straight, goosebumps covering his tan skin as you drag the brush through his damp hair. “You used the good stuff,” you remarked happily as you smelled the product in his hair, leaning forward to kiss his bare shoulder. 

“Shampoo…and conditioner.” He was so proud of himself. 

— 

One of your favorite parts of his longer hair was in the middle of the night when his head was buried between your thighs. “Mickey, please,” you whined, your hips rising off the bed. He used his hands to pull them back down, his fingertips leaving tiny bruises which you had hoped for. 

“I’m taking my time,” he hummed against your core, the vibrations making you cry out. Your fingers curled and flexed at your sides as he ate you out like it was his last meal, tongue flicking relentlessly on your folds but purposely missing the spot you needed him the most. “You’re so pretty when you’re desperate and needy for me, cariño,” he cooed, lifting his head and pushing back his hair. Eyes on you as he went back down. 

With another small desperate whine, you tangled your hand in his hair and gave it a rough tug. “Mickey, please, please. Make me cum,” you begged. He let out a pleasure-filled groan as your grip on his hair tightened. He let your hand guide him upward, tugging hard as his lips finally covered your throbbing clit. 

—

Having his hair pulled was something he didn’t know he liked, but he craved it. It was the perfect sensation to push him over the edge. His warm body pressed against yours as his hips pistoned, mumbling noncoherent things into your neck. “W-what?” you panted, nails deep into his back. 

“Pull my hair—’m so close,” he moaned pathetically into your ear. You bit down on his shoulder and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling hard enough that he threw his head back and spilled inside you. 

— 

When his leave came to an end, you looked at him longingly when he came home from the barbershop. His curls were gone but he left just a little on the top for you to play with, “Do I still look ok?” he asked as he wrapped you in his arms. 

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met, Garcia. With or without the hair.”

#mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia imagine #mickey garcia smut #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #fanboy imagine #fanboy garcia #top gun #top gun maverick #danny ramirez