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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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I love your stories! Could you please write some more father figure mav and platonic dagger squad? Xx

awwww thank you so much anon, this one is for you! Me love cute platonic fluff, it's just so heartwarming ;w;

✨ Ohana Means Family ✨

Summary: During a movie night, the Dagger Squad fights over which movie to watch. While observing them, you realize that you, who never had a family, finally found one.

Words: 1k

Tags: PURE FLUFF, Platonic love, family fluff, DadMav and his Dagger kids // reader super close to Hangman

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“But I don’t want to watch a horror movie!” Hangman complains, crossing his arms on his muscular chest. Bob lowers his head, disappointed.

“You never listen to any of my suggestions anyway.” He says with a little voice, readjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Bob, you ALWAYS suggest horror movies. Last month we did a Saw marathon. And you were the only one enjoying it. Payback almost fainted.”

“That’s not true! I was just… Just tired!” Payback retorts from below. He is sitting on the floor, holding the bowl of popcorn between his legs. He has already eaten half of it, even if the movie had not started yet.

“What about a Disney?” Phoenix suggests.

“To hell with Disney, it’s been two weeks we only watch Disney movies.”

“Come on, everyone likes them.”

“The problem is not the movies themselves. It’s Rooster constantly singing the songs during and after the movies.” Hangman rolls his eyes, laying on the sofa with his head on your lap and his legs on Coyote's.

“Fuck you, Jake. At least I don’t choose spaghetti westerns.” Rooster growls, also sitting on the floor. He is braiding Shark’s long blonde mane with surprising patience.

At one point you stop listening to the argument. When a dagger suggests a movie, another one immediately complains. This is a vicious circle. Yet, your Y/EC eyes carefully observe everyone while your hand absentmindedly pets Hangman’s blonde hair. He had just closed his eyes, almost purring at your touch. Sometimes he winces when he hears a movie title he does not like.

“Star Trek?”

A pillow flies across the room and hits Fanboy right in the face. The WSO shakes his head, looks dagger at Shark, and throws it back. You don't need to listen to the conversation: you know he probably suggested the old Stark Trek movies. After all, that is why you all call him Fanboy. The pillow flies again yet Rooster and Shark slightly tilt on the same side simultaneously, avoiding the pillow.

“And what about a musical?”

Judging by the storm of protests, Coyote understands that his tastes in movies are far from winning unanimous support. You cannot help but smile, your fingers still massaging Hangman’s head. A faint and amused smirk appears on your beautiful lips: It is the same hilarious struggle each night. The Daggers would reunite in the living room and fight over the movie to watch, while Maverick would prepare snacks in the kitchen. Popcorn, nachos with guacamole and cheese, and fresh beers.

You suddenly feel a cold and wet muzzle sniffing your free hand. You take a quick look at your left side, only to see Crashtest’s big face looking at you with his shining beady eyes. His large mouth is open, tongue hanging. You chuckle when looking at the dog and finally run your free hand through the pale fur of his neck. Here you are, forced to pet both Hangman and Crashtest.

Crashtest is a big beige American Pitbull whose owner is Shark, but he quickly becomes the family’s dog. She called him so because, when he was a puppy, he would run everywhere and bump against the walls.

A soft sigh escapes from your lips as you realize that you have found a family. A broken, small, and weird family… But a true one.

“So, what are we watching tonight?” Mav’s voice echoes in the living room and snatches you from your thoughts. He obviously knows that no one managed to reach agreement. He lays the plates on the table and raises an eyebrow while looking at the young pilots scattered in the room, “Are you serious? Alright. Since you can’t decide…” He pauses and his emerald eyes fall on you, “Y/CS? What do you want to watch? You have the last word.”

Surprised, you look at Mav, then at the Dagger Squad, and then at Mav again. To be true he had caught you off guard.

“So?” Hangman asks. He had just reopened his eyes and is now looking at you with an adorable yet slightly cocky grin, his head still comfortably resting on your lap.

“Lilo and Stitch.” You say out of nowhere, suggesting the first movie that had crossed your mind at this moment. “I want to watch Lilo and Stich.” You repeat, and this time you are delighted with your choice. It seems like a perfect movie for your adoptive family.

“YESSS!” Phoenix and Rooster exclaim. The dog barks happily, wanting to join the party. Surprisingly enough, everyone kind of agrees with you. Even Hangman, who has complained about Disney movies twenty minutes ago.

“Lilo and Stich.” Mav concludes, visibly satisfied with your decision, before letting his body fall on the huge L-shapes sofa he had bought to welcome all his kids at home. Doing so, he forces Hangman to move in order to avoid getting crushed by him. The blonde pilot growls and, sitting next to you, wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders. The feeling of his warm skin against yours is soothing. With butterflies in your stomach, you snuggle against him. You and Hangman have been closer these past few weeks since you saved his life during a mission.

As Maverick grabs the remote and scrolls to find the movie, all the daggers join him, Hangman, and you on the couch no matter if they have to snuggle against each other to all fit. Lilo and Stitch’ s intro starts and fills the room with the sweet melody of He Mele No Lilo. Before focusing on the movie, you take a quick look across the room.

Phoenix’s head rests on Bob’s shoulder.

Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy are nudging each other, trying to hold their laugh.

Rooster keeps playing with one of Shark’s braids while her hand gently strokes Mav’s thigh.

As for you, Hangman keeps you in his arms. Hugging you as if his own life depends on it. His sweet and masculine fragrance tingles your nostrils.

Another bark: Crashtest climbs on the couch and the gentle brute rests his head on your lap.

A soft smile stretches your lips.

They are your Ohana.

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hangmanwh0re · 1 year

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Monica, Danny, and Lewis at the Golden Globes (2023)

#danny ramirez #monica barbaro #lewis pullman #mickey fanboy garcia #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #fanboy #phoenix #bob #fanboy garcia #phoenix trace #bob floyd #mickey garcia #natasha trace #robert floyd #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick cast #golden globes

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rae-gar-targaryen · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned.

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

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

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

–

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

It was such a good dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mickey groaned in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

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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.

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 months

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The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions; Unplanned Pregnancy; Reader is a Mom Note: Written for day 12 of @whumpthemusical's event for "Unplanned Pregnancy" from Waitress. Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey Garcia always expected the greatest honor of his career would be when he was accepted into Top Gun. However, he never imagined he would be chosen to return as one of the best of the best a few years later. Yet he had done it! Selected along with his pilot and close friend, Payback, as one of the few to train for a top-secret mission. It was a dream come true.

He met most of the other aviators the night before at the Hard Deck, and with one possible exception, everyone seemed very nice and supportive. Then, after the debriefing this morning, he was excited—if a little nervous—about the next few weeks of training. He still can’t believe he was selected as a potential member of the mission. He doesn’t have high expectations for being chosen, but he is still going to try his very best.

After running back out to his car to grab some paperwork, he’s heading for the row of hangars so he can meet Payback to prep their plane for their first practice, a wide grin spread across his face. The fact he is about to fly in a training dogfight with Maverick—the Maverick—still feels like a dream to him. It feels like he’s being trained by Han Solo or Captain Kirk! He is a legend that other legends look up to and Mickey had never imagined he would get an opportunity like this. Could this day get any better?

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

As he reaches the tarmac, Mickey suddenly stumbles to a stop and his face drops as he catches sight of the ghost from his past standing in the way, almost as if waiting for him. But it’s impossible. He double-checked the roster ten times just to make sure there was no chance you were going to be here.

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Falcon…”

You worry your lip between your teeth just like you used to when you got nervous or were deep in thought, but your eyes shine brightly when your callsign slipped from his lips. “Hey there, Fanboy.”

Oh, God… that voice. Instantly, a thousand memories flash through Mickey’s mind: the first time he laid eyes on you at boot camp with your brilliant smile and Death Star tattoo; flying with you as his pilot, and how he instantly knew he never wanted to fly with anyone else; you dubbing him Fanboy after seeing him nearly burst into tears after running into William Shatner in a coffee shop and him naming you Falcon after the iconic Star Wars ship; all the stolen, secret moments and rendezvous as your friendship blossomed into something deeper despite the risk of Command finding out; the morning he found your letter left on his bunk saying you had transferred and had already left without a warning or a goodbye.

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“I work here. I’ve been an instructor at Top Gun for the past two years.” Your leg is bouncing slightly and you keep clenching and unclenching your hands. “I guess you were in the class the year before I started, but I was so proud when I heard you made it. Of course, I always knew you could.”

Instructors. Mickey groans softly to himself. He had been so focused on what other aviators had been recruited for the mission it never crossed his mind to check who the instructors would be. But it’s too late to do anything about it now.

“So, does that mean you’ll be teaching me?” It’s hard enough seeing you standing before him. But if he has to see you on a daily basis, listen to your lessons, follow your orders…there is no way he’ll make it the next three weeks.

Luckily, you shake your head. “No, it’s all top secret and I don’t have the clearance. I’m not even sure what your mission is. All they’ve told us is that they need the best of the best in the hopes of completing it, so I wasn’t surprised to see your name on the list. I never flew better than with you in my backseat.”

Mickey silently sighs in relief before he jams his hands in his pockets and coldly asks, “If you don’t have anything to do with my mission, what do you want, Falcon? After you disappeared for almost six years, I don’t really have anything I want to say to you. I think it’s better if we keep things the way you wanted it and just pretend the other doesn’t exist.”

He starts to walk around you, but you step in front of him, holding up your hand to block his retreat. “Is that really what you think I did? Left and never gave you another thought? Because you’re wrong. I think about you every single day, Mickey. And I haven’t been able to get into a plane without you in my head. No matter who I’m flying with, your voice is in my headset giving me directions, or doing systems checks, or failing to stump me with random trivia about another movie or tv show just like it used to be.” You take a deep breath as you let your hand drop to your side. “But maybe if I didn’t care, it would make all of this easier. I–”

You are close to tears as your voice trembles with every word, but Mickey is having none of it. “No! Uh uh. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you’re the one who was hurt here,” he says, jamming his finger accusingly at you. “You’re the one who put in for a transfer without even talking to me about it first, so don’t act like you’re the victim. One day, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, flying with the woman I love at the stick, and the next, I wake up to a note telling me you’d left to fly with another unit. No explanation. No nothing. I never even got to say goodbye! You just disappeared from my life and you took my heart with you. But you never gave a shit.”

“Yes, I did! I swear!” Tears now begin to flow freely down your cheeks. You try to close the distance between you, but when Mickey steps back, you stop. Clutching your arms across your chest, you beg, “Mickey, I loved you. If there had been another way, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to stay with you but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?”

“Command. They heard from a few different people that we were ‘fraternizing’ outside of our duties. That we had started sleeping together a few months earlier and that it had evolved into an actual relationship.”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

Smiling warmly at him, you say, “I never doubted that. And just so you know, I didn’t either. But someone must have found some sort of evidence and turned us in. I tried to find out who, but I never had any luck. All I know is I got called into the discipline office and they said they were starting an investigation into our alleged relationship and if it were true…”

You take a deep breath as your arms tighten around your chest. “I knew if they went looking, they’d find out about us so I did the only thing I could think of to save our careers. I told them it wasn’t true but if they were still concerned, I would voluntarily opt for a different WSO or even transfer to another unit if that would clear things up. And they took me up on my offer.”

Missing pieces of Mickey’s past suddenly start to click into place. While it was against regulation for pilots and their backseaters to “fraternize” with any kind of romantic or sexual relationship, the rule was hardly ever enforced. However, around the time you disappeared, a pilot in another unit almost botched a mission saving his injured WSO instead of carrying out his assignment. When it was discovered they were in a romantic relationship at the time, Command began taking the regulation very seriously. Mickey recalls the two of you even had a nervous conversation about it at one point but just agreed to be more discreet while on base.

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“But why did you do it? Some anonymous jerk claims we were dating and that’s it? We could have fought it. If you had told me what was going on, we could have both denied everything and there was no way they could prove it.”

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

All the air is sucked from Mickey’s lungs. He feels like he’s doing barrel rolls in his jet as the world spins around him and an immense pressure weighs on his chest. “You… you were… what?”

You nod gently. “I had only found out a few days before and I was trying to figure out how to tell you. But then the investigation was brought up and it changed everything. All they had was the word of someone else we were dating, but if they knew I was pregnant with your baby, well, that’s pretty solid evidence. I didn’t know if you wanted kids. Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. So, I didn’t say anything and they transferred me two days later.”

“How could you not tell me?” Mickey whispers, trying to wrap his head around this life-changing revelation. “I would have been by your side for every minute. We could have figured it out together, we could have found a way to make it work. But even if we couldn’t, I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. And if that meant giving up everything else, I would have done it.”

“I know you would have. And that’s why I couldn’t say anything.” You take a few steps towards him. This time, Mickey doesn’t move back, but you still keep a little space between you so you don’t overwhelm him. “I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t let me leave and it would be the end of both our careers. We’d both worked so hard to get where we were, I couldn’t let you throw everything away for a kid I still didn’t know if I even wanted. And by the time I had decided, it was too late to change what I’d done. So, when I reported to Command I was pregnant a few months later, I said it was from a nameless one-night stand I met at a bar right after I transferred.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…”

It is the final straw. Stumbling over to the nearby wall, Mickey slides down it until he is sitting on the ground and rests his head on his knees. He has a son. A four- or five-year-old son that he never knew about. Someone who was already walking, and talking, and going to school. Who was his own person with his own personality and likes and dislikes. Who Mickey knows absolutely nothing about.

The two of you had never talked about whether you wanted kids or a family. Until the moment you disappeared, Mickey had never doubted you both loved each other deeply but your relationship had been too complicated by rules and regulations to face what might happen in the future. So, the two of you had lived in the moment and tried to enjoy what time you had together instead of talking about the future. But that didn’t mean Mickey hadn’t thought about it. He had known from a young age he wanted to be a father. He helped take care of his younger siblings growing up and he couldn’t wait to have a family of his own.

So to find out now that he has a child is simultaneously exhilarating and devastating. He could have had everything he had always dreamed of, but you had taken all those early milestones, all those precious irreplaceable moments with his son, and Mickey doesn’t know how to accept that. What if his son never forgives him for not being there? Mickey might not have known he even existed until a few moments ago, but that doesn’t change the fact his son has had to grow up not knowing what it was like to have a father. To have a void in his life where others around him had a loving, supportive presence. Will his son even want him in his life at this point?

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye.

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Mickey raises his head to glare up at you, all of his swirling emotions finding a much-needed target to explode at. “Even if I accept why you let them transfer you or that you didn’t tell me right then, why didn’t you tell me at any point during the last five years! Is it just because I’m here? If I hadn’t come back to Top Gun, would you ever have told me?”

You open your mouth to respond but then close it again as you try to find the best way to answer. “Those are all fair questions. I figured if I told you while I was still pregnant or right after I gave birth, we would still get in trouble. My superiors weren’t happy that I had just transferred to fly with one of their WSOs and this happened but they had to accept it. I flew for another month or two but then I was placed on desk duty until I got this job at Top Gun. I hated being grounded but at least I was someplace consistent where I could go home to my family every night.”

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

You seem confused for a moment but as soon as you realize what he is asking, you quickly clarify, “Oh, no, no, no! Nothing like that. My mom moved in a month before I gave birth and stayed so she could watch the kiddo while I was at work.” You duck your head to stare at the ground as you mutter, “But no, there, uh, there hasn’t been anyone like that since you. I’ve got one little man who has my whole heart, and between him and work, I don’t have the time or the energy to spend on anyone else.”

Mickey hates the way his heart warmed slightly at that. He should hate you right now, not be happy that you aren’t with someone. Quickly changing the topic before he lets himself dwell on that for too long, he says, “You still haven’t answered my question. Why now? Why are you telling me about him now?”

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“Well, not you specifically but he started asking about his dad. He doesn’t understand….” Your voice breaks as your lip begins to quiver. Mickey’s resolve wavers and he starts to reach for your hand but then he remembers the reason you are upset in the first place and lets his hand fall. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “He’s too young to understand and I’m too selfish to admit it’s my fault you’re not there, so I just told him his dad was a Naval aviator like me and he’s off protecting everyone from danger. I was hoping…I don’t know what I was hoping, but it didn’t satisfy him like I thought it would. Two weeks ago, he told me all he wants for his birthday next month is to meet his dad.”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

You nod. “And I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea where in the world you were, if you had your own family by now, or if you would even want to meet him once you knew. But then a few days ago I saw you were coming here and…it seemed like fate. I knew telling you would be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t go home and look into our son’s eyes if I didn’t at least try. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

“So this is just a way for you to clear your conscience?” Mickey asks. “You finally tell me I have a son, and that’s supposed to absolve you of everything? You took nearly five years I could have had with him away from me! I missed out on so many firsts!” Mickey suddenly freezes, all the anger evaporating in an instant as a sober realization sets in. “I still don’t even know his name….”

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.”

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

You smile at the reverence on Mickey’s face. “It was the only name I ever considered.” Pulling out your phone and tapping the screen a few times, you offer it to him. “It turns out it was perfect. He’s the spitting image of his namesake.”

With shaking hands, Mickey takes the phone from you. Looking down, he sees a little boy staring back at him with a wide grin that’s too big for his face, a mess of dark curly hair, and rich brown eyes that make Mickey feel like he is looking into a mirror. You weren’t far off. Miguel looks almost exactly like the baby photos Mickey had seen of himself at that age. However, he can also see traces of you in the toddler’s face; in the shape of his lips and the cut of his jaw. There’s no way to deny it any longer. This was his kid. Yours and his together.

Watching the waves of emotions washing across his face, you murmur, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you…either of you. I just didn’t know what to do and then, once I made a decision, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. The longer I put it off, the more impossible it got to tell you. But you did nothing wrong and I just thought he should have another piece of you to carry with him, even if he doesn’t understand it yet.”

Mickey swipes his finger across the phone and the photo changes to one of you balancing Miguel on your hip as you point towards the camera. He looks younger here but the same joy is evident on his face as he clings to you with one arm and to a ratty-looking Spider-Man plush in the other. Another swipe shows Miguel blowing out a candle on a birthday cake shaped like a Stegosaurus. There is a big “4” balloon floating in the background next to a woman Mickey recognizes as your mother. He swipes again to see a picture of you fast asleep in a rocking chair with an infant Migual curled on your chest. He is so tiny that he could only have been a month or two old. You look disheveled and exhausted even in sleep, yet Mickey doesn’t think he can remember a time you were more breathtaking.

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply.

There is a small framed drawing hanging on the wall just above Miguel’s crib. It’s of two stick people looking at each other with little hearts above their heads. He doubts a single other person would have ever noticed it, but he would recognize it anywhere. He had doodled it on a note he slipped you right after his friendship with you had developed into a romance. And you had kept it all of these years then hung it so it would watch over your son.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

“Okay, then yeah, of course you can,” you say eagerly as your face lights up. But then it dims slightly as you add, “But, um, I think it’s better if we wait just a few days.” Mickey starts to protest but you hold up your hand. “I know I’ve already made you wait far too long for this, but we need to figure out some things first and I’m sure once you’ve had time to process everything, you’ll have a million questions. I just want you to be as prepared for this as possible so you both feel comfortable. It’s a big deal and Miguel is the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet, but he is pretty shy around new people and I don’t want to just spring this on him without talking to him first.”

Mickey can’t help smiling to himself. He was the exact same way when he was little. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I already have a thousand questions and I’m sure by tomorrow, I’ll have a thousand more. How ‘bout we say Friday after training? I could come over or meet you guys somewhere or whatever you think is best.”

You hesitate for a minute. “I have an appointment Friday afternoon and I’m not sure how long it’ll last. Why don’t we do Saturday morning? We could meet for pancakes. That’ll definitely get you on Miguel’s good side.”

“Pancakes it is.” Mickey climbs to his feet and holds out your phone to you. But just as you are about to take it, he pulls it back slightly. “Um…do you think…could you send me some photos of Miguel?”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

You duck your head. “I couldn’t delete it. I stared at it countless nights with my finger hovering over the call button, but I always chickened out. However, I knew one day I’d find the strength to tell you everything, and when that happened, I’d need a way to contact you so I kept it. I’m still just so sorry it took me this long.”

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

“Yeah…” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself once again. “I felt like I was in my own personal Kobayashi Maru except no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out how to cheat the system.”

Oh God. The ease at which that perfect Star Trek metaphor slips from your lips once again has Mickey flashing back to all the little reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. However, after the secrets you revealed today, he can’t let himself fall back into what was.

“That might be true, but another part of me doesn’t know if I can ever forgive you for stealing these last five years I could have had with my son.” He scrubs his hand over his closely buzzed hair. “Right now, I just don’t know how to feel about you or what you did. However, I do know that I can be pleasant and get along when we’re around Miguel, though I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back to a point where we’re friends again.”

You bob your head, tears dampening your eyes even as a small smile spreads across your face. “That’s fair. That’s more than fair. Honestly, I half expected you never to want to see me again after I told you, so I’ll take pleasant. Thank you, Mickey.”

He nods and holds out your phone. As you take it, your fingers brush against his and Mickey feels a jolt run up his arm as he touches you for the first time in almost six years. And based on the way your eyes widened, you felt it too. The two of you gaze at each other, your hands still both holding the phone between you. Mickey feels his heart start to race slightly in his chest, and he wonders if maybe he’s wrong and forgiving you won’t be as difficult as he thinks it is.

But then you pull the phone from his hand and slip it into your pocket. Taking a few steps back, you mutter, “I’ll send you those pictures. And please do text me any questions you have this week. Otherwise, I’ll call you Friday to figure out the details for breakfast Saturday.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

For several minutes, Mickey continues to stare at where you had been standing, still half wondering if anything that just happened was real or not. He always knew returning to Top Gun would be life-changing, but he had never expected this in a million years.

Still in a daze, he stumbles off towards the hangar where his plane is housed. As he approaches, he sees Payback already dressed in his flight suit and busy checking out the plane. He looks up when he hears Mickey approaching.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

“Yeah, guess I have.” Just then, Mickey’s phone vibrates and he pulls it out to see you have sent him a link to a folder filled with hundreds of pictures and videos of Miguel. Just a brief scan of them makes tears begin to well up in his eyes once more. But when he looks back up at Payback, the smile on his face is so wide it hurts. “But it’s all good. In fact… It’s never been better.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @blue-aconite, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @roosterforme, @clancycucumber230, @mamachasesmayhem, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

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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

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thisisyoursaviourspeaking · 24 days

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EXSQUEEZE ME??????

#top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #danny ramirez #mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy garcia #lewis hamilton

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callsign-fangirl · 1 year

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Dagger squad

Bonus: cyclone and warlock!

Pt 2

#top gun maverick #maverick mitchell #hangman seresin #rooster bradshaw #bob floyd #phoenix trace #payback fitch #fanboy garcia #coyote machado #top gun meme #glen powell #miles teller #tom cruise #lewis pullman #i know javy isnt technically dagger squad but...#cyclone simpson #warlock bates

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enthyrea · 1 year

Note

Are you still taking requests because id love to see payback and fanboy in your style <3

me and the bad bitch i pulled by being autistic - miguel “fanboy” garcia, probably

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scottishaccentsareawesome · 3 months

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(when Hangman comes back from deployment with a new girlfriend) Payback:...How're you doing? Rooster: I'm ok. Payback: Ooh, that bad, huh? Look, I can sense when people are depressed and vulnerable. It's one of my gifts. Rooster:...When I saw him get off that ship with her, I really thought I hit rock bottom. But today, it's like - there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me. Phoenix: You gotta tell Hangman how you feel. Rooster: Come on. How can I just tell him? What about his girlfriend? Fanboy: What about her? They've only been going out for two weeks! Hangman has been in love with you for like 10 years! Rooster: I don't know, I don't know... Coyote: Look, Bradshaw, I've been with my share of people. In fact, I've been with like a lot of people's share of people. The point is, I've never felt about anyone the way Jake felt about you.

#incorrect quotes #top gun maverick #dagger squad #hangaroo #hangster #sereshaw #original: friends #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin #reuben fitch #natasha trace #mickey garcia #javy machado #rooster bradshaw #hangman seresin #payback fitch #phoenix trace #fanboy garcia #coyote machado

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 months

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The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions Note: Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Falcon…”

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…”

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye.

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.”

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233, @memeorydotcom

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