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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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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.”

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ryebecca · 6 months

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"I'll be there for you when the rain starts to pour. I'll be there for you like I've been there before. I'll be there for you, 'cause you're there for me, too." - D·A·G·G·E·R·S ✨

#tgmedit #bradley bradshaw imagine #jake seresin imagine #mickey garcia imagine #bob floyd imagine #natasha trace imagine #javy machado imagine #reuben fitch imagine #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin #mickey garcia #bob floyd #natasha trace #javy machado #reuben fitch #*myedit #*mymoodboard #so this just...happened

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eternalsams · 1 year

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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.

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averagewriter-inthedark · 29 days

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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!! 🫶🏼

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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

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thewulf · 11 days

Text

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

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mothdruid · 5 months

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horus || mickey 'fanboy' garcia

"In the sky there are always answers and explanations for everything: every pain, every suffering, joy and confusion."

god of kingship, healing, protection, the sky, and the sun

symbol: eye of horus

the egyptian deities

#mickey garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #horus!mickey garcia #egyptian deity!mickey garcia #mickey garcia imagine #mickey garcia moodboard #egyptian deity!daggers #top gun au #egyptian god au #top gun moodboard #danny ramirez #tgmedit #moths moodboards

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bussyslayer333 · 1 year

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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

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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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sebsxphia · 1 year

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the cure for a bad day.

mickey ‘fanboy’ garcia x reader.

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

￫ word count: 900.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown

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rae-gar-targaryen · 2 years

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swallow you like sunshine when i smile [mickey “fanboy” garcia x fem!reader]

A/N: For Fanboy’s fangirls, I present some reunion sweetness with Fanboy and his cielita linda. Thanks for your patience. More fanboy is coming soon! (Remember, reblogs make the world go round!)

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

Word Count: 8.6k (WHY OH MY GOD THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 2K OF SMUT NONSENSE) of reconciliation, of promises, of cotton candy clouds and sweet nothings that mean just about everything.

Warnings: My writing is its own warning, smut, so 18+ ONLY – p in v sex, the vaguest bit of somnophilia, the vaguest bit of breeding kink, touching, biting, vaginal fingering, oral sex (fem!receiving), my usual odd attempts at dirty talk, the barest hint of angst.

Summary: When all the drowsy metaphors about love and fruit have been peeled and devoured, there's just you, your love, a bowl full of summer peaches, two parentheses with nothing in between (just space) ...for the tongue's imagination. AKA you reunite with your love Mickey on his leave. He’s intent on making up for lost time with you. Every moment with him feels like home.

The line crackled in your ear. A tangible noise, a manifestation of the distance and the dated technology that separated you.

He was calling you from a landline. In some distant airport you weren’t sure you were allowed to know exactly where… But the words before the pause, before the crackle, had made your heart leap in your chest.

He was coming home.

“Did you hear me, cielo?” His voice was soft, murmured through the lines and slightly garbled, towers, oceans, and mountains between you. From his mouth, across countries, to your waiting ears. Always low, keeled, and beautiful. No exception, even in spite of the transatlantic call.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I can’t wait, Mickey. I can't wait to see you."

He can't help himself. He smiles into the receiver, though you aren't there to see it. He knows you'll hear it in his voice, picture this exact smile as the one he reserves for you, graces you with it whenever he sees you.

"Hasta entonces, mi alma."

—

"You're walking a little taller than usual," Reuben teases, walking in stride with his co-pilot up the ramp and into the airport’s gate area. "Excited to see anyone in particular?"

Mickey scoffs, rolling his eyes at his partner, nudging him with a teasing elbow as they close the distance between their plane and the gate. “Don’t hate, I’m sure she’ll give you a hug, too, Payback.”

“I’m just saying, man, you’re glowing. Isn’t he glowing, Bradshaw?,” Reuben asks.

“Radiant,” Rooster snickers from somewhere over Mickey’s shoulder. “Practically skipping.”

Reuben takes the moment to hold up his phone and take a quick snap of Mickey’s face as evidence. “See? Goofy-happy. Aaaaaand that one’s going on the story,” he types a quick caption that Mickey is sure he’ll see later before swiping on his screen and settling his phone back into his pocket. “You’ll thank me later. You’ll have a memory of this moment to cherish forever,” Reuben’s eyes flash, face lighting up with his toothpaste-ad smile.

Mickey grins at his partner’s antics, playfully flipping him the bird and shoving him once more as they walk through the sliding glass doors and into the gate area with the rest of the Dagger squad, careful not to crush the small bunch of fiery, sunset-hued marigolds clenched in his fist. His gift to you. A paltry peace offering for all of his time away, he thinks, but they’re your favorite flowers. And fitting.

Marigolds represent power, inner-strength, remembrance.

And not just anyone would wait for him as you have, he thinks. Not any woman would have that fortitude. And you’re his own personal sun, fiery as the blooms in his hand. His day rises and sets on you – the first and last thing to cross his mind each day – especially when he’s away. And he’s thrilled, it’s true. Here he is, seconds away from seeing you, from having you back in his arms … when an unwelcome little twinge of anxiety shoots through his chest, splicing his ribs to take root somewhere to the right of his heart.

What if you weren’t there? What if you’d changed your mind? What if it was all too much? What if, what if, what if —

“M!”

All feelings of anxiety are banished at the sound, and Mickey can’t help himself… The happy shriek shatters his thoughts.

Mickey looks up from the flowers he’s clutching just in time to catch the veritable blur that is you as you jump into his arms and lock your ankles around his waist, burying your face into his neck. The telltale wobble of posterboard met his ears as you dropped the sign you had been carrying, letting it sweep to the floor in favor of twining your arms around his neck.

The force of your body against his was a welcome jolt. And Mickey was alight. Elated at the feel of your person against his once more. If it wasn’t for you in his arms, keeping him to the earth, he thinks he might just float away back into the skies he’s just left.

But you were always good at that – making him feel simultaneously good and grounded, while also feeling like he swims amongst clouds. One of your many confounding abilities, he supposes.

He feels the quick press of your lips to his neck as you’ve burrowed there, and it’s like lightning has cracked through his body at the site, your lips like silken petals along his skin that result in tingling peals. Another confounding thing. Always novel, even if he's felt them on his body hundreds of times. Never enough. Never, ever enough.

Quick as you’d kissed his neck, you untuck yourself from the space beneath his jaw, reveling in the feel of his warm palms bracing against you, keeping you aloft, as you untwine your arms from their wrapped bow around his shoulders. Electing instead to cup the sharp curve of his jawline. And allowing yourself to truly take in the face of your beloved, the man you've missed for months on end…

Allowing yourself to recognize his eyes, swimming in warmth and mirroring your own enthusiasm (you hoped). To trace the features of his face, the curves and angles of his jaw, his cheeks – prominently angled as his mouth curved into a grin.

Granting yourself just a moment longer to bask in the radiant sunlight of your beloved’s smile, equal only to the summery golden-warmth of his honeyed eyes. For what was one more moment when you’d spent so many apart?

And you were glad you had. For you were sure your smile mirrored his own in enthusiasm, though few could smile as brightly as Mickey Garcia.

You trace the curve of his fine-boned cheeks with your thumbs before finally, finally allowing your lips to meet his own.

It’s a feeling he’s gone months without, wants to bottle. Like cheap, sticky soda kisses on a summer’s day at the beach – orange syrup and sunshine promise. Or the feeling of dragging your fingers through warm, soft sand … tingling and comforting, silken. Of the sagebrush scent of summer rain, clean and clear, sharp and sweet. Of sunsets and summer peaches, hued and happy.

He’s just as lost in the feeling of you, as you are in the feeling of him, your lips brushing as though they’ve always been meant for the other’s, facile and complete. His plush lower lip finds its way between yours, and he allows his mouth to smile (always, always smiling with you, isn’t he?) against yours.

As for you …It wasn’t fair, really, how he always made you feel as though you were adrift in the blue-green depths of the ocean. Untethered in cool depths, save for the feel of his hands, his arms wrapped around you – your soul escaping to the sea, ever beneath his blue skies as you found yourself reunited with your aviator.

Far, far too soon, your lips part. And was the resulting sigh yours? His? Or collective and colloquial, the both of you finally relieved? In tandem.

“You’re here,” you breathe against his lips, your forehead resting against his. “You’re actually here.”

“I’m here, cielo,” he murmurs, lips perpetually curved into a smile as they meet yours once more.

A wolf-whistle cracked through the air and the moment, causing you to break apart from your beloved once more, a laugh slipping from your lips as as Reuben’s voice met your ears,

“Get a room, you nerds."

Brushing your nose along the slope of Mickey’s, you press your lips quickly to his once more as you slide from his arms, allowing your feet to meet the floor. Back on solid ground.

You turn toward your approaching friend, and the current source of your playful ire, swatting Reuben’s arm before he swept you into a hug.

“Good to see you back, Reuben,” you say, his frame dwarfing your own as he gave you a playful squeeze.

“You too, pequeña,” he smiles as you wrinkle your nose at this – Mickey and Javy’s ‘little’ nickname for you having stuck, apparently. “You didn’t have to rush to him so quickly, ya know? You could’ve hid a bit. Taken your time, made him sweat. He needs to be humbled,” the teasing lilt of Reuben’s voice warm and pleasant to your ears.

“Don’t be cruel,” you chide your friend. “Or I’ll stop sending you sheet-masks.”

The pilot drew his hand to his heart, as though shot. “Don’t hurt me,” he gasps. “You know it doesn’t have to be like that.” He glances a wink at Mickey over your shoulder as you giggle at his antics.

“Don’t worry, Payback, you know I come bearing gifts.” And you’re rummaging through your purse now, finding the orange-red wrapper you were searching for.

It crinkled as you withdrew it from your purse and dropped into Reuben's waiting hand – a 100 Grand bar. A running joke between the two of you at the expense of his callsign.

“Don’t spend it all in one place, babe,” you reminded as you also plucked a folded piece of notebook paper from your bag and slipped it in his hand to join the candy bar.

Reuben smiled at the sight of the cartoonized version of himself you had sketched onto the paper – a battle-ready look on his little likeness’s face as he flew their spaceship into a dotted, sketched little asteroid field.

“The next edition of ‘Fanboy & Payback?’” he asked, mouth quirked.

“Just a little sneak peek at what awaits them next,” you shrugged, glancing over his shoulder and raising your hand in a small wave as Javy, Natasha and Bob walk by. "The two of you have to blast your way outta that asteroid field to escape the wretched Florgs. Think you're game, ace?"

Reuben laughed.

"Always," he breezed, his confidence seamless, as easy as breathing. Though you knew he'd approach real danger as smoothly, as boldly as your proposed, fictional peril.

You patted his hand that clutched your gifts.

"Thank you, Reuben," you murmur, locking eyes with your love's co-pilot – who, in many ways, felt like he was your co-pilot, too. Your voice cracked with the burbling brook of welled emotion inside of you – the feelings of fear every time you say goodbye clashing like waves with the feeling of relief that your beloved was back, safe before your very eyes.

"Thanks for keeping him safe up there. And getting him back to me. This isn't enough to say thank you, but …" when had your eyes started welling?

"Hey," Reuben sweeps you into another hug, "it's nothing, alright? We keep each other safe. Nothing to get bent outta shape about, okay?”

You nodded, Reuben patting your shoulder as he releases you. Mickey, ever-patient as you greeted his friend, is quick to fill the space, pulling you into his side with an arm over your shoulder.

“Thanks, pequeña. It’s good to see you. Do me a favor and keep an eye on this one for me while he’s home, yeah?” Reuben juts his chin in Mickey’s direction before leaving the two of you with a departing smile, already unwrapping the chocolate bar you had gifted him.

“I won’t let him out of my sight, sir,” you called after him, mock-saluting, before turning and burrowing into Mickey’s waiting arms once more, greeted with the sight of a bunch of orange-hued blooms held in fine-boned hands.

“For me?”

Mickey’s nodded, offering you the fiery marigolds, insides warming at the look of adoration on your face at his gift.

“Thank you, my love,” you murmured. “They’re perfect.” You took the hued florals in a bunch and held beneath your chin to frame your face, striking a bit of a pose for your beloved. “How do I look?”

“Like an angel, mi alma,” Mickey smiled, admiring the sunset-hue of the petals against your skin, its contrast to your smile. How had you only been back in his arms for mere minutes, and it’s enough to make him feel like he’s never left? That’s the atmospheric pull of you, he supposes. So like his very own sky.

You’ve wrapped your arms around his neck once more, reveling in the feeling of him against you, thanking him for the flowers and basking in this moment together, when…

“Told ya,” Rooster whispered into Mickey’s ear as he breezed by the two of you, “Marigolds are her favorite.”

Mickey nodded in thanks at his friend as he passed.

“Good call,” he mouthed.

Rooster grinned before plucking his aviators from the front of his uniform and sliding them up the bridge of his nose,

“Adios, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You waved at Rooster’s exit, gently holding the flowers as Mickey slung an arm over your shoulder, his duffel in the other.

You bent quickly to scoop up the absconded posterboard, tucking it beneath your arm and tucking yourself back into your boyfriend’s side.

“What did it say?” Mickey raised a brow at you, nodding to the posterboard under your arm. Was that the Star Trek font?

“Ah,” you shook your head in mild embarrassment, flourishing the board before the two of you with a hollow, reverberating wobble to allow him to see your greeting of “World’s Sexiest Pilot!” in loud, block letters that did indeed match the Star Trek font – and matched his helmet, in screaming electric blue, embellished with silver streaks.

“It’s a bit much now that I look at it,” you lamented with a sigh. “But I know how the guys get. Egos, and all. I didn’t want there to be any question that it was for you.” You were adorably sheepish about it.

Mickey, meanwhile, tossed his head back with a laugh.

“It’s great, baby,” he reassured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Though you’re right. Hangman would definitely ignore the design if he thought you meant him.”

“Oh, well, if you think Hangman would like it…” you made to leave Mickey’s hold, making a show of looking around for Hangman, only to turn back to your besotted boyfriend, shrugging in feigned resignation and easing back beneath his arm. “Don’t see him. Guess you’ll do,” you pecked a kiss to his cheek, your own insides warming in kind as you delightedly take in the flush that blooms across the apples of his cheeks.

Mickey guided you toward the airport’s exit, savoring the feel of your side pressed to his once more as you walked, steps in-tandem as always.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered into your ear. “I can think of a few things I don’t think Rooster would do that I’d sure like to.”

–

If you had thought your greeting for your longtime boyfriend was enthusiastic, your golden retriever had put you to shame. Artoo had bowled Mickey over the moment he stepped through the door.

“It’s my fault,” you choked through your giggles as your boyfriend looked up at you from his place on the floor, as your dog relentlessly endeavored to clean Mickey’s ears. “I told him you were coming home today. And you know that I think he can understand us.”

It was silly, Mickey thought, watching you watch him play with the dog, to have been worried in the first place. The anxiety of traveling, of seeing you again after so long. The annoying, persistent little jab of fear that he wouldn’t be able to gel back into your lives – that he had missed too much while he was away… that you had developed a routine without him…. Learned only how to live with the absence of him instead of with him… But it was incredible, he thought – How you were able to make it all melt away as you guided him into your shared space. Into your forever home, together.

Your beachside home smelled just as he remembered it – sun-warmed earth, coffee grounds, and the clear smell of ocean air. The accent wall in the living room was the same earthy, terra cotta color you had picked to remind yourself of gardening all year round, offset by the sweet creme color of the remaining walls and the slate blue of your overstuffed couch. The mirror that hung along one wall still caught the late afternoon sun as it poured in, dazzling the room with beams and prisms of natural light. Your laptop was set up at your workstation in the corner of the dining room table, haphazardly-tossed sketchpad teeming with design proposals. You had left the blender out on the kitchen counter, likely in your haste to get to the airport – the vestiges of your morning protein shake congealing at the bottom. It was lived-in, comfortable, comforting. A space that you had made a home, waiting for him to weave his way seamlessly into when he returned.

“So?” you padded behind him, having left him with Artoo while you had taken his duffel to the bedroom and waited for him to kick off his boots by the sunroom door. You rested your chin on his shoulder and took in the living room from his perspective. “Does it pass inspection, Lieutenant?”

Mickey snorted, turning and guiding your arms to wrap around his waist. “I’d need to see the rest of the premises, I think. Specifically, our bedroom?”

Our.

You quirked an eyebrow at your boyfriend. At his sweet smile and swirling, Bambi eyes. The curls you loved to lose your fingers in, loved to braid on lazy mornings together were long-gone, shorn and replaced with a regulation buzzed-cut that you still loved, even if it meant you wouldn’t have hair to tug when… well….

And you'd pondered on the kind of love you'd read about in novels. The sort of novel a sixteen-year-old girl would sneak beneath her pillow, the better to dream of romance with. Like some sort of amorous osmosis. The fact that the man before you personified that rosy, sunny feeling you’d hoped one day to feel – that you’d found something you could recognize in another. Well, you meant to capitalize.

“Aye, aye, sir,” you lilted, propping forward on tip-toes to brush your lips along Mickey’s. “You’re not going to make me beg for it, are you?”

“That all depends on you, cielo,” he rumbled, taking in the sight of you before him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Now lead the way, cadet.”

With that, he gently patted your rear, ushering you forward, down the hall on slippery-stockinged feet to your shared bedroom that he hadn’t seen in months. You were biting back your lilting, champagne giggles as he chased you down the hall, pulling you into your room with him, and toppling the two of you onto your cloud-like, powdery comforter.

“Baby,” you gasped as Mickey rolled himself over you, meeting your lips with his own in a firm, honeyed kiss.

This feeling, so sweet, that you could almost taste it when your beloved slipped his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss, a true saccharine sacrament. And just what type of sweet it was, and how could you describe it…

Mickey kissed like …. Like the feeling of warm honey meeting your tongue when you take your first sip of well-loved tea. Or the feeling of sugar between your teeth as cotton candy dissolves on your tongue – cloudlike, yet textured.

All was sunset-hued as his lips moved over yours, his hands coming up to cup your face, to trace every bit of you, to feel you as he tasted you, caging you into the cotton softness of your comforter as his warmth rolled over you like a summer storm.

And you knew he wasn’t home for good. A sad reality that made you want to savor every moment he was home with you, that made you resolved to taste him, to feel that sugared sweetness as often as you could –

But, as your beloved trailed his hands to your hips to toy with the hemline of the soft cotton t-shirt that you had tucked into your jeans, you knew you had to stop him… at least, momentarily. Lest he get ahead of you when you had planned for your surprise.

“Baby,” you gasped again, palms flat against the starchy front of the uniform Mickey had been traveling in, “I know you’re gonna kill me, but you have to give me a minute.”

With that, you gently pushed, causing his warm lips to part with the skin of your neck – and when had they gotten there?

“Cieloooo,” Mickey groaned, part in exasperation, part in warning, as his hands cupped your waist, his warm skin burning through the thin material of your t-shirt. He brought a hand back up to caress your jawline with the backs of loving fingers, elongating your neck so he could press another kiss there before tucking your chin down to allow his eyes to search your own. “What could be so important?”

“I promise,” you skimmed your hands over his cheeks in kind, drawing him in for another full kiss before gracefully extricating yourself from beneath him. “It’s worth it. Get comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

With that, you closed yourself into the en suite bathroom, your reunion surprise for your beloved tucked into a fabric drawstring bag you had left for the occasion.

You changed into the lacey lingerie that you pulled from the bag, shimmying your way into the straps and lace that adorned your curves.

Once you were satisfied that everything was in place, you fluffed your hair in the mirror, eager to see your beloved’s reaction.

Before walking through to the bedroom, you rested your ear gently along the door to see if you could hear him, only to be met with the silence of your home.

Perhaps Mickey was patiently (impatiently) awaiting your return with a warm expanse of newly-exposed tanned skin and bated breath. Perhaps he would gasp when he saw you, bedecked in your soft, floral lace. Perhaps he would let you take control, guiding his hands to where you wanted – no, needed them most after months with nothing but your memories of him, your own hands, and the occasional clandestine, dirty FaceTime call. Perhaps he would let you ride him, his hands clasped to your hips, guiding you both to your respective peaks as his mouth trailed every part of you he could reach.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

But what greeted you on the other side of the door was not any of your supposed perhapses.

Instead, your Mickey, having shucked his stiff uniform, which now lay pooled at the foot of your shared bed, had tucked himself into the comforter in preparation for your arrival. His bicep bulged where he had tucked his arm behind his head, all the better to see you with when you emerged from the bathroom…

And there he was, asleep.

You chuckled to yourself, gazing adoringly at the sweet sight of Mickey’s chest, gently rising and falling, his eyes closed, enviable eyelashes fluttering against pretty, prominent cheekbones. You scooped his uniform quietly from the floor and into your closet hamper before turning back to him.

Funny, you thought, as you eased your way in beside him – all thoughts of racy, lacey fun with Mickey slipping from your mind as you allowed yourself to curve around him and bask in his warmth. It was funny how he called you cielo, alma, angelita… when he was the one who looked so like an angel as he slept.

Your last thoughts were of him as you drifted off. And weren’t they always? But the very real feeling of him next to you, of his chest beneath your stretched arm, breathing easily in the restful sleep of someone comfortable at home … It was perfect. As you held him and cuddled into his side, you were struck with how this was so much better than what your mind could conjure in your nights alone.

This was tangible, palpable, genuine.

You closed your eyes against the late afternoon sun and allowed the warm, cinnamon scent of him to invade you, visions of marigolds and planned sunset beach picnics dancing in your head as you gave in to the static fuzziness of sleep.

–

You dreamt of him.

… Were you dreaming? Or was it real?

He hmms into your neck through the smile you know to be there in the darkness of your bedroom – a sweet and honeyed little noise, like the tufty soft buzz of bee's wings. And there, now … you feel his lips part, warm, silken and amorous, before pressing against the column of your throat. Loving the feel of his kisses along your skin, as only his could feel. Radiant and true. You were sure it wasn’t just a dream now…

For you could feel him everywhere. Through your haze of sleep now rapidly-fading. You were swaddled in the dim lighting of the room and the veritable TV static that was the prickling vestiges of your sleep, and your own climbing, buzzing pleasure at Mickey's attentions.

Your love, on the other hand, was wide awake. Surging over you like a wave at sea, gentle at first, and then all-consuming – as though he were a slave to your moon's gravitational pull. No choice but to cover you, devour you in loving sweetness.

His warmth surrounded you as he pressed tender kisses into whatever skin he could find in the darkness of your room during the witching hour.

First was the skin of your wrist and the minimalist sun inked there – a tender question placed at the site of your matched dedication, something to gauge your wakefulness against his own desire. At the pleased hum emanating from your dreamy throat, he continued… trailing his way up your bared arm with intentional, insistent presses of his lips. Urging you into ever-present consciousness with his lips.

Mickey's nose skimmed the regal curve of your shoulder, along your collarbone. Delighting himself in the way your skin felt along the velvet warmth of his own – something he could never fully appreciate in the depths of his own imagination when he was away.

Nothing like the real thing, baby.

And he was content to repeat the process, allowing himself to slide down to begin anew with the skin of your hip, kissing along the ridges of your ribs and allowing himself to drown once more in the feel of you.

Was he the ocean, or were you? Desirous, greedy, wrathful as it was…

Mickey brought himself up to you, chest-to-chest, as you stirred, reveling in the feel of your chest meeting his own with every heaving inhalation. The soft lace of your lingerie brushed his chest, catching the curves and edges of his skin, tickling and teasing as though you meant it. And perhaps you did, your smile coy, sleepy, sweet.

“Is this for me, my love?” Mickey murmured in the low-light of your bedroom, toying with the bra strap that had slid down your shoulder in your sleep, admiring the contrast of the white lace against your skin. “Te ves como un ángel.”

“It was your surprise,” you breathed, urging yourself ever-into wakefulness as Mickey bent to kiss your neck, trailing his fingertips from your arm, over your clothed breast, and down, down, down, to rest on your hip.

Mickey's fingertips are honeyed. They drag along your skin, sticky with desire … leaving a tingling trail where he's touched you, enough to drive you to absolute madness, fully awake now.

With no thought but the desire to see if he tastes as good as he makes you feel – thick honey and cloves, sweetly heavy when you grip his wrist and bring his fingers to your lips, taking them into your mouth – nectar.

Mickey groans as you suck on his fingers. He is devotional, devout, and ever-enamoured with you, and if the kissing and touching to urge you into wakefulness didn’t leave him half-hard already, the sight of you, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep and stardust, lips pouty and sinful with the feel of his fingers in your mouth, warm, wet, enticing … was enough to get him the rest of the way. And it had been so long since he’d had you, how a man could be expected to wait, he didn’t know.

He smiles into your skin – million-watt, apparent to you through the curve of his lips against your skin.

"I love it. You're pretty," he murmurs. "So pretty, mi cielita linda."

You released Mickey’s fingers from your lips, pressing a kiss to his open palm, and make to guide his hand down your body, your eyes adjusted to the dark of the room now, appreciative of the curve of your love’s body above yours, the curve of his biceps, the feel of his torso against yours. And it had been so long since you’d felt his touch rather than imagined it. How you could be expected to wait, you didn’t know. The promise of his touch against your skin, of his kisses to your neck and shoulders in the darkness of your shared bedroom, was enough to dampen your panties, to urge in the slow, pulsing ache between your legs.

You guided Mickey’s hand down to your center now, allowing his fingers autonomy to explore you. And for his part, the resulting groan Mickey emitted at the feeling of the damp fabric as he slid a finger over your clothed slit, was enough to cause you to shiver.

Pleased with himself, and more than a little turned on, Mickey rolled his hips into the bedspread, to alleviate just a little of the tension he was feeling. The two of you had barely touched, and he was ready to bury himself in you, to die if it meant it was with you.

Gently pushing the white lace aside, Mickey stroked his way along your now-bare slit, pleased at the way your hips involuntarily rolled into his touch, the way your chest heaved just that little bit more at his touch.

Your silken slickness is a direct contract to the pulsing ache you feel. And he adores you, he abets you, encouraging the pent-up want with pressing, pretty kisses along the line of your throat as he eases a long finger inside of you, beckoning you to him from inside as he curls his finger, allowing you to buck yourself, your clit, against the heel of his hand, your eyes rolling back at the saintly, sinful feel of him.

“Gotta taste you, amor,” Mickey breathed, pulling down the lacey cups of your bra to kiss along your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth as his fingers continued to play with your center.

You arched your back, urging him down as he kissed his way down your torso, awash in intentional adoration. Chuckling at your chagrin as he withdrew his fingers from your center to pull your panties down your legs, kissing your hipbones as he went.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Mickey rewarded your (im)patience as he kissed along your thighs, the oceanic pull of you rendering him senseless in his singular desire as he urged himself closer, closer to your center, caught in your orbit, the waves of your desire (or were they his own?) washing over him as he kissed you.

You yelped at a particularly invested nip of his teeth against the skin of your thigh.

"Sorry, sorry, amor," he breathed, sweeping an apologetic brush of his lips over the offending spot, not-so-secretly marveling at the minor indentations of his teeth now adorning the fullness of your thigh – all glittering, mischievous nightsky eyes in the low light of your bedroom. Another sincere, soft kiss to the spot, belying his remorse. "We can stop if you want."

"D-don't you dare."

It was so easy, Mickey thought, to give you what you wanted. To kneel before you and acquiesce to your every demand – simply because you didn’t demand.

It was easy for him to, he knew, when your gratitude was reflected in starry, wan eyes as you gazed down at your beloved, your expression one of idle worship that he drank in.

It was easy, when you asked so pretty, breathy moans of “please, please, please,” meeting his ears as though you were inside of his mind.

It was easy, because you were beautiful. And beautiful people have a way of getting what they want, and Mickey understood you were beautiful – made beautiful as you were, and moreso, if he asked you, because he loved you.

It was easy, Mickey knew, so easy to give you anything you wanted … simply because he would do anything for you.

Mickey gripped your thighs now, pushing them apart to better bare yourself to him. He buried himself in the cleft of your thighs, the flash of his hot tongue like electrostatic shock, jolting through you from the very center as he licked a long, loving stripe along the seam of your cunt.

And if you’d thought the first taste of his mouth on you was heavenly – And how was that, when it was him who was tasting you? You were falling in love with him all over again, with every bit of attention he showered you with as he licked you, wriggling his finger once more inside of you and rendering you senseless at the feeling of him pulling you into his depths.

The feel of him was like the slow drip and drizzle of honey in tea – warm, sweet, tingling.

Your fingers scraped their way along his scalp, lamenting once more the lack of hair to tug. Nevertheless, your keening moans in the room sounded unfamiliar to your own ears, but you knew, distantly, that they were coming from your own mouth, building within the finite space of your room as Mickey urged you closer, closer to your peak.

And the feel of his mouth, of his fingers, is divine… wretchedly and wrathfully so. You cursed your own fingers in comparison, cursed the ache you felt in the months of his absence, for they could never quite match the exquisite feel of his. And yet, and yet, and yet…

It wasn’t enough.

You needed more. As your chest heaved in tortuous pleaser, as you groaned at his attentions. You realized –

You need all of him.

“Mi cielita linda,” Mickey breathed, sitting back on his heels and taking your thighs with him in warm, prayer-like palms, to continue to press kisses to your legs. "I'm wild for you, amor … Does it feel good? When I touch you like this?"

A villain.

“Please, M,” you keened at Mickey’s tickling kisses. “Please. I c-can’t… I need you.”

He chuckles darkly, like the slow pour of golden-dark, honeyed syrup, slow, low, and full of the promise of something.

"You're sweet," he murmurs into your thigh, trailing his lips to where he knows you want him most, before withdrawing once more. "So sweet."

With that, he releases your thighs, guiding them down to the soft bedspread on either side of him as he lifts himself to his knees, sliding his boxers down his legs and slipping out of them. You made to assist, slipping your hands down your body and to your center, gathering some of your own slick onto your fingers and onto Mickey’s hardness, stroking him with the evidence of your own desire, reveling in the choked noise that caught in his throat. The way his eyes fluttered shut as he paused in his movements.

“Goddamn, cielo,” He surged forward, caging you with his strong arms as he fell forward, capturing your lips with his own, the taste of you as much a tease as his own mouth.

Mickey broke from you far too soon, as you continued to work him, leaning past you to your bedside to shuffle in the drawer for a condom when you stopped him.

“It’s fine, baby,” you assured, urging him back to you as you wrapped your legs around his tapered waist, your hand cupping his jaw and guiding his lips to yours once more.

“Are you sure, baby?” He asked, wanting to make sure he understood your intention behind the decision to forego protection.

“Of course, corazón,” you assured. “I just want to feel you."

And you didn’t have to tell him twice.

"Have I told you today I love you?" he asked, aligning himself with your entrance, teasing you with his length along your slit and causing you to buck, chuckling at your impatience, your impertinence. That wild streak he loves so much.

“I love you,” you urged. “Now, please, M, c’mon. Don’t you wanna show me how much you missed me?”

And that did it.

Mickey slid himself into you, rejoicing in the slick feel of you, in the snug warmth of your tightness, ever as though you were made for him as he began to thrust into you, measured, keeled. In the way he knew you liked.

"Shit, baby," Mickey groaned. "Fuck."

And he’s so desperate, desperate to feel some part of you that he’d mimic whatever gets him closest. But he needn’t mimic. Because, truly, there was nothing like the real thing. Like the very real feel of you wrapped around him, squeezing him ever-tighter.

Of the feel of your thighs around his waist, your ankles locking behind him, urging him for more, more. Your nails along his back, and your breathy moans in his ear, begging, begging – he swears, for him to fuck you harder.

“Oh, fuck, you undo me, Mickey,” you sighed, relishing in the honey warmth languidly sweeping its way through your veins with each of his thrusts. Following the swirling pathway of Mickey’s attentions, the heated, silken traipse of his body along yours, inside of yours.

And Mickey whispers in your ear, incoherent, dirty little nothings as he fucks into you, his body curled over yours, one hand on your neck, his face pressed into the side of yours and his full lips gently brushing the shell of your ear.

And you were an angel, the way you took it, took him. A silver-screen siren, a hazy dream, sent straight from the kind of grainy, overfiltered pretentious indie flicks he'd loved in college.

Mickey’s thrusts urged you closer, ever closer to the edge as he rolled his hips into yours, the thrust-and-drag of him heavy inside of you, his fingers circling your clit as you resorted to incoherent murmurings for “more.”

Selfishly, you prayed, he’d give you an ache you'll remember long after he leaves again – never mind the one in your heart that's sure to follow– but you couldn’t dwell on that now as the staticy pleasure of your orgasm started to sweep through you, tingling your toes to your scalp.

You felt your release surging through you, a wave of pleasure pulling you back to your love, his arms wrapped around you just as you tightened around him with a sweet sigh, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he kissed you, coaxed you through it.

His own release followed after the feel of him emptying himself inside of you one you would never tire of, the anchoring sound of his satisfied groan like music to your ears as you guided him to rest alongside you, pleased at the sweat-sheen glow adorning his warm, tanned skin. Pressing a kiss to his bicep, his neck, and his lips once more.

Out of habit, you made to sweep his hair from his eyes, the soft pads of your fingertips meeting the side of his face instead, admiring every inch of your man in the low light of your bedroom.

"You've got galaxies in your eyes, love," you whispered to him, your thumb brushing a soothing, sweeping line over Mickey's prominent cheekbone. “Always in the sky.”

“Yeah?” he breathed back, his eyes sweeping your face, taking you in in-kind. “You have the sea in yours.” He brought your wrist to his mouth to place another kiss to the sun there. “I’m sorry I fell asleep before. I'll make it up to you tomorrow once I’ve had my coffee.”

You tore your wrist away gently to swat his bicep, the little thwack resounding in the relative silence of your bedroom.

“Oh, don't be silly,” you chided. “You know you were good.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey puffed his chest a bit, pleased at your praise. “Then I’ll take power-naps every time before.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you told him. Noting his hum of agreement.

–

You lie together, Mickey in your arms, legs tangled, as you gently scraped your nails over his scalp.

“The curls, I miss,” you confessed, the tickling buzz of short hair a strange prickle against the pads of your fingertips. “But this is cute, too.”

Mickey’s eyes were closed at your attentions, contented. You were almost certain he was moments away from purring like a large jungle cat, a panther, with inky dark hair and eyes made for targeting its prey (he was good at that, after all, being a WSO…).

“Glad to know you approve, seeing as I didn’t have much of a choice,” Mickey sighed, taking the opportunity to admire your features in the soft lamplight of your bedroom, the two of you caught in the witching hour, the lurch of a late-night-come-early-morning – grey skies dotted with the final holdouts of twinkling, winking stars.

“Does your C.O. know how cute you look with the curls, though?” you pondered. “Should I write to my congressman?”

“You’re too much, cielo,” Mickey hummed, his lips turning in a half smile as he gazed up at you in moonlight adoration.

“You love it though,” you replied, bending to press a kiss to his cheek, your hands never ceasing in their movements.

“I do,” Mickey groaned in satisfaction at a particularly rewarding scrape of your nails through his cropped hair. “I hope our kids end up with one-tenth of your tenacity – ready to take on the entire U.S. Navy over a haircut.”

You brought your hands down from his scalp to his shoulders, kneading the muscles there as he rested against you. What he assumed was a gift for him – the massage– truly a gift for you, as you took every opportunity to feel his skin against yours. A reminder that he was here. He was home.

You quirked your lips as you worked.

“Our kids, huh?” You queried. “And when is this happening?”

“As soon as you’ll let me,” he laughed, the radiance of his smile a secondary source of light in your bedroom, blindingly dazzling, as always. “If it’s a boy, he’ll be a Jedi like his father before him,” he said, voice bold, assured.

“You seem to have thought a great deal about this. And this boy’s name?”

“Vero,” Mickey replied, not missing a beat.

“Ah,” you kneaded a particularly stubborn knot of muscle in his shoulder, causing him to let out a deep groan. “Great hero, a warrior. Good name for a Jedi. And if it’s a girl?”

“Valencia,” he said, sitting up and turning to face you now, allowing your hands to fall from his shoulders so that he could take them in his own. “Our gift in winter. Something we’d share.”

And you could envision it, you could. An entire life with the man before you, packing school lunches together, planning summertime road trips. Backpacks, bonfires, the whole nine yards. There was never any question that you wanted your life to enmesh with his – to share everything together.

Still. Wasn’t it always nice to hear that he felt the same?

“I see,” you murmured, voice hitching a bit with the tenderness of the moment, “And you see that in our future, do you?”

Mickey’s eyes were dark, searching as he gazed upon you, appreciating the filtering purple-grey of twilight through your window and how it played upon your features. You truly were his dream girl.

“Of course,” Mickey replied, voice emboldened with confidence and warmth. Pressing his lips to yours before confessing, “I’m going to marry you, cielo.”

–

A few short hours and one doggy walk later found you and Mickey in the morning drive-through queue, waiting to pick up your coffee at the pick-up window, Artoo contentedly sprawled along the backseat, gnawing on his favorite Nyla-bone as the two of you hummed along to your current playlist.

Mickey laced his fingers through yours, resting your joined hands on the center console as the song changed to Sam Cooke’s sweet warble, begging Cupid to pierce his lover’s heart with his arrow, promising to love her for eternity.

“A lot of motown on this playlist,” he mused. “Any particular reason?”

“This one,” you sighed dreamily, “… This one I made when I was thinking of you.”

Mickey turned to look at you, the sunlight glancing off of the lenses of his flattering, wire-rimmed glasses. His worn San Diego Padres hat fit more loosely than you had remembered, thanks to his closely-cropped hair, and the distinct lack of voluminous curls that he would typically need to wrestle in order to fit the hat to his head. He smiled at your admission, sparkling and cruelly-perfect.

“Sam Cooke makes you think of me?”

“A lot of things make me think of you,” you retorted. “Be grateful I don’t serenade you with ‘Lovefool.’”

“You know I don’t mind your singing, amor,” he breezed, bringing your joined hands to his lips to press a soft kiss to the back of yours. “Even if you sound like a bag of angry cats in a hurricane.”

You arched a brow at Mickey as he took his foot off the brake, inching you forward to the pick-up window.

“I seemed to recall you saying you’d be nicer to me once you’d had your coffee,” you chided, swatting the brim of his hat and causing it to fall over his eyes.

“Well, I haven’t had my coffee yet, amor,” Mickey adjusted his brim and eased his foot onto the brake, rolling down his window before greeting the barista. “So there’s still time.”

He winked at you before collecting your coffees through the window.

You scoffed, toggling your playlist over to Curtis Mayfield and rolling your eyes in mock-consternation at your beloved, grabbing the cup with your name on it with greedy fingers and taking a deep, appreciative sip.

The two of you drove off in the easy silence borne of enjoying your respective beverages.

At the next stoplight, you offered your cup to Mickey, per your tradition. The two of you swapped cups, him taking a swig of your coffee as you sipped his overly-sweetened cold brew.

True to form, Mickey visibly grimaced at the pungent taste of hot, black coffee on his tongue, shuddering and causing you to giggle at his overwrought reaction. It never changed, and yet he insisted on sipping your extra-shot Americanos, even though he hated them.

“Cielo, I say this because I love you… Is, like, is your stomach lining okay? This is SO acidic. I just don't understand how you can drink something so bitter.”

“I have all the sweetness I need right here,” you leaned across the console to peck his cheek. "Mhmm," you nodded. "Super-sweet."

"Corny," Mickey chuckled, pressing your coffee back into your hands and navigating the two of you back home. "So, is tonight a movie night?"

"Of course," you replied. "The projector is up and ready. You decide – Alien or Predator?"

Artoo sighs in the backseat, settling in for the drive home.

Mickey glances over at you, savoring the sweetness of the cold brew on his tongue, though of course it has nothing on the sweetness that is you.

On this, you both can agree – coffee is nice. But nothing quite makes you feel alive as the person next to you.

"You're perfect, cielo."

–

Time is cruel. It passes quickly in joyful moments, slipping like cool water through cupped hands in the desert. In moments you wish would pass, it somehow stagnates, stuck like boots in mud during an uphill climb.

Mickey’s two weeks home seemed to fly by – no pun intended, really, because you knew he’d be flying away soon. And you didn’t want to resent it. Really, you didn’t. You knew he lived to fly. When you stared at the night sky when the two of you were apart, you’d imagine him up there, watching over you. If you’d catch a falling star out of the corner of your eye, you’d wished for more time. For the sky – beautiful as it was – to stop calling your love to its endless vastness. To allow him to stay on the ground with you, for even just a touch longer.

But the sun rose and set, the same way it ever does. And it rose again on the morning Mickey was to leave.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder as the two of you lay in bed together – content to never move, to bask in this moment forever.

His words hang heavy on you, weigh even more heavily on your heart. An ache borne equally of love and pain. Of the promise of a future (which he was clearly planning for), but devoid of togetherness in the present.

"I miss you when you're gone," is all you manage to choke out, voice soft so as not to belay any of the fissures in your heart that are making their traitorous way up to your lips.

Mickey laces his fingers through yours, giving them a gentle squeeze as he pulls you back into the bed, into the warmth of his embrace.

“I know, cielo,” he sighs into your hair, gifting you with another kiss, this time to the top of your head as he takes in the warm, rosy paint of your bedroom walls. “I don’t want to go.”

“Mickey,” you break from his hold to look at him, to cup his cheeks, the sheets swishing as you turn to face him. “Of course you do. And that’s okay. You’re supposed to love your job. And you… You’ve got your head in the clouds."

Mickey made to protest, to tell you that he doesn’t love it more than you, when you press your finger to his lips,

“It’s okay, love. I’ll always be here when you get back. We have plans for our anniversary, remember? Disneyland.”

Mickey had always thought you like the ocean to his sky, parallelled, but so different. Turbulent, soft. Untameable, endless. When, really, you were always with him.

He removed your hand from his lips, gently guiding it next to his own and holding your wrists together so as to admire the two suns inked on your respective wrists.

(“Like the twin suns of Tatooine,” Mickey had joked – quick to silence his laughing when you reminded him this was supposed to be a metaphor for your love, and did he really want to equate it to the most uninhabitable planet in Star Wars? You delicately chose to ignore Mickey’s rejoinder that Hoth was the most uninhabitable planet in Star Wars, content that your point had been taken.)

And whether it was the suns adorning your wrists, or the bunch of fiery marigolds in water next to your bedside, or the theft of his favorite ballcap, you knew Mickey was with you each day. Even if he wasn’t. He was part of your day each day, just as you were part of his, when he affirmed –

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Mickey rested his head against yours, eyes never leaving your wrists. “We have these because you’re in the clouds with me, remember? You're mi cielo."

Tagging: @withahappyrefrain @spidervee @andallthatmishigas @thegirlwhowritesfics @xbamboowishesx @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @abibliophobiaa @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @thematthewmurdock @mrshipsmcgee @p3mybeloved @decadentpaperduck @letmeplaytheliontoo @vestrangel @moonlight-prose @aphrogeneias @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @2clones-1kamino @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @ilovepretttystuff @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @shakira-sasha @siriusfahey @hopefulinlove @s-u-t @Criminalmindsandmarvel @joaquinwhorres @gingerbreadandpaper @jakexfmc @the-navistar-carol @alexxavicry @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid @buckyytorres

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Meet cute prompt #3- getting set up by their lovely grandmas, who always go to the same café and gush about their grandkids

w/ Mickey Fanboy Garcia!! (Imagining Desi reader) Holy shit, Mickey IMMEDIATELY comes to mind when I read that prompt! I could SO SEE his abuela doing this and reader’s Nani or Dadi (grandmother in Gujarati)

ALSO FUCKING CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!

Eeepp. This made me blush. Wtf, how cute is this. Also—thank you so much.

Prompt #3 Getting set up by their lovely grandmas, who always go to the same café and gush about their grandkids.

“So Fanboy, how’d you meet this lovely wife of yours?” Hangman asked as he eyed you off across the pool table. You'd just smashed him in an impromptu game of pool. “She seems like a real–” Jake couldn't say what he was really thinking, he'd get his ass handed to him if he did. “Peach–”

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

“Abuela!” Mickey was practically digging his heels into the concrete of the sidewalk his Abuela was pretty much dragging him down by the earlobe. “Would you cut it out?” He smiled bright, trying to stop his cheeks from turning a shade of crimson as he flicked his Abuelas fragile fingers off his person. “I said alright, you don't have to drag me.”

“Well if you hadn’t put up such a fight, to begin with Miguel I wouldn't be in such a rush.” Mickey hated when his Abuela called him that, Miguel. He much preferred Mickey or even Mick. Honestly, even Fanboy would be a better alternative to Miguell.

Mickey always thought he was in trouble whenever his mum, his sweet Carino, called him Miguell–it was probably some deeply embedded signal of PTSD from the amount of times he had actually been in trouble when he heard the sound of his mother roaring out his government name. It was just a thing now, Miguell equalled trouble and trouble was something Mickey Garcia couldn't afford to be in right now as he trailed after his aging faster than he would have liked to admit Abuela.

“All I said was I didnt appreciate being set up on a blind date.” Mickey sighed, rubbing at his earlobe that had been squashed under the weight of what felt like the entire universe. “Not that I wouldn’t have come–” It had only been in the last few years that Mickey had really started to find his voice amongst his family. He loved his Abuela with his entire heart but sometimes he wished he could just stand up to the little old woman who thought he should be married with kids and a house in the middle of a cul-de-sac by now. “You were the one who–” Just as Mickey was about to turn the blame back on his Abuela for being late to this coffee get-together she'd been banging on about for the last three days, Mickey felt a shape sting against his forearm. Stunned, he rubbed at the spot his Abuela had slapped opened palm like as he blushed a bright red, god this was so embarrassing. Right outside the cafe they were supposedly meeting people at “Ow! You can't hit me in public! I'm Government Property!”

“No Mijo, you’re your Carino's property, she gave birth to you, you just work for the government. She brought you into this world and I brought her into this world and I will take you out of it quicker than you can fly your little plane around in a circle.”

“I am a grown ass man Abuela–” Mickey slightly bent down to get at eye level with the woman he admired above and beyond.

“Aye, not until you're married and can give me all the beautiful nietas and nietos under the sun.” Ah there it was. See? Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia was never going to amount to anything until he was a husband and father. “Now go, we’re late.” Mickey just stood up and fixed his buttoned up shirt. He let out a reluctant sigh as he held the door open for his Abuela, watching as she stepped inside the cafe on the corner of the street.

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

“Sit up straight, you shouldn’t slouch mera bachcha.” Your Nani placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as you stirred your tea. “You’ll end up like me, with a back that aches in the winter.” You couldn't help but to smile at your Nani as you sat up a little straighter. Anything to make her smile, anything to make her happy. Which was why you had agreed to meet with her and her friend for coffee and brunch.

“Ah, here they are now.” Your nani stood to wave over her friend.

“Nani what do you mean they?” You questioned as you looked over in the direction your nani had been waving before she sat back down. There was a little old lady beaming as bright as she could at you, trailing right behind her though was a gorgeous man with curly black locks that made his smile look so much brighter and clearer than any other smile in the world.

“Rosemary, it's so lovely to see you and Y/n.” the little old lady greeted your nani with a kind over the shoulder hug. “Y/n this is my Mijo, Miguel–” Mickey's Abuela introduced Mickey as he stuck his hand out to shake yours. Only after he wiped the palm of his hand on his jeans.

“Mickey, I'm uh, I'm just Mickey.” He corrected his Abuela with a soft smile as he drank in the sight of you, damn, perhaps this coffee date wasn't going to be so hard to get through after all. You were beautiful.

“It's nice to meet you, just Mickey.” You couldn't help but to tease the blushing man who had been shaking your hand for a little too long before he pulled away. You watched as Mickey sat down beside you on the empty chair and your nani and Mickey's Abuela settled into their own conversation, nearly forgetting the two of you had been dragged along to begin with. “My Nani here told me we were meeting a friend here for brunch, but I think this was a set up.”

Mickey Garcia never thought he’d be the guy who got the girl and had the family that lived in the middle of a cul-de-sac. But when he met you for the first time in that cafe on the corner of the street with his Abuela and your Nani sitting cross from the pair of you–fist bumping under the table that their chance at matchmaking actually worked, he thought for a second he maybe could be that guy.

“I think this was the biggest stitch up ever.” Mickey agreed. “But I can't say I'm all that mad about it.”

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

“My Abuela and Y/n’s Nani set us up actually,” Mickey explained as he cradled your newborn in his arms. “I dunno about Y/n but I thought it was love at first sight.” You'd fallen in love twice with Mickey Garcia in your lifetime. Once in the cafe on the corner and once again when he became the father of your child.

“I can't deny you were real cute Mick.”

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

#Leah’s 4K Celebration 🎊

#Leah’s 4K celebration 🎊#mickey garcia fluff #mickey garcia #mickey garcia imagine #mickey garcia x female reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia fluff #fanboy x reader

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ryebecca · 6 months

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daggers in a galaxy far, far away: "Permission to hop in an X-Wing and blow something up?" - Poe Dameron, The Last Jedi ⭐️

#star wars x tgm #tgmedit #mickey garcia imagine #mickey fanboy garcia imagine #mickey garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #top gun: maverick #danny ramirez #*myedit #*mymoodboard

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aworldinsideaperson · 3 months

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The President’s Daughter

The personal aid to the President, Mickey Garcia, tries to juggle the job he never applied for while falling in love with the President’s daughter.

#mickey garcia imagine #mickey garcia series #mickey Garcia x reader #west wing au

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imawkwardlysoc · 1 year

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how everyone reacted when you and mickey announced your pregnancy

Pairing- Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Mitchelle-Kazanky! reader

Warning(s)- Reader's gender is not specified but they do have the ability to get pregnant. Also, the idea for the Dagger's reactions came from Tiff & Case when they announced their pregnancy to some of their friends.

Wordcount- 1,521

Summary- How you, Mickey, your friends, and your families react to your pregnancy.

You & Mickey

“Alright,” I capped the tests and sighed. “Set the timer for three minutes.”

“Hey,” Mickey wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the side of my head. “If it turns out negative, we can try again.”

“We’ve been trying for the last year Mick,” I looked at him. “I don’t know if I can take another negative.”

“I know, I know,” he pulled me closer and hugged me as he kissed the top of my head.

Those three minutes felt like an eternity. Micky and I have been distracting ourselves with small tasks around the house to pass the time. Despite doing them, it felt like forever until we heard the timer go off. Mickey and I rushed to the bathroom and looked at the test flipped over not revealing the result. We kissed each other before I flipped over the tests as my hands were shaking.

“Please tell me you’re seeing the same thing I’m seeing?” I asked him after I turned the tests over.

“All three positive tests? Yeah, I’m seeing the same thing,” he let out a laugh of disbelief and kissed me. “We’re having a baby.”

“We’re having a baby,” I smiled as tears ran down our faces.

The Parents

After walking out of the doctor’s office after I got my twelve-week scan, Mickey and I got into the car to head to my parent’s house for dinner. Thankfully the timing is right and it’s family week on base so Mickey’s parents flew to San Deigo to spend the week with us. Tonight, my parents decided to host dinner since they have more room in their house than we do. We were also in the process of buying a house even before we found out that we were expecting.

“Ready for this?” We looked at each other when we parked the car in the driveway.

“It’s now or never,” he replied.

“I mean I can hide my pregnancy for six more months,” I joked.

Letting out a laugh while shaking his head, we got out of the car and grabbed the dessert from the back seat. Walking up to the front door, the door opened showing Rooster on the other side.

“Hey guys,” he hugged us.

“Hey,” I hugged my brother back. “Where are our-”

I was interrupted when we heard laughter coming from the backyard. “That answers my question.”

The three of us walked to the backyard to see our parents laughing while having drinks in their hands. Seeing us walk in, they placed their drinks down and greeted us.

“Admirals, it’s good to see you again,” Mickey greeted my dads.

“Fanboy, what did I say about formalities?” Pops asked.

“No formalities, just names or callsigns,” Mickey replied as he accepted a beer from Dad. “Thanks, Mav.”

“Y/N, sweetie, do you want one?” Dad asked.

“No, designated driver for the evening,” I declined the offer. “Something smells good. I’m hungry.”

“Good thing the two of you got here just in time,” Pops smiled. “Everything is already done. Let’s eat.”

Plates of food that were filled with different grilled meats and veggies crowded the table. Throughout dinner, we caught up with each other, mostly Mickey’s parents since they didn’t live in the same state as us. We always see my dads and Rooster since we don’t live that far from each other. Mickey’s father gave us updates on the garden that he and Mickey’s mom were currently growing. Soon it just turned into our parents giving each other gardening tips while Mickey, Rooster, and I listened to the conversation. As dinner was making its end, Mickey excused himself so he could get the announcements.

“What’s this?” Mickey’s mom asked as he placed a box with their name in front of them.

“Just something we wanted to get you guys,” Mickey explained as he placed Rooster's box in front of him.

“You can open it now,” I told them.

Mickey sneakily pulled his phone out and started recording so he could get everyone’s reactions.

“No, you’re messing with us right now,” Dad looked at us in disbelief.

“We’re not,” we shook our heads. “Expect a grandbaby/niece or nephew in a few months.”

That was when everyone started to freak out. Mickey’s mom immediately got up from her seat and hugged both of us while congratulating us. Soon everyone else got out of their seats and congratulated us. Pops and Dad had tears in their eyes knowing they would have their first grandchild. When everyone sat back down in their seats our parents started to bicker about who was going to be the better grandparent. Did Dad and Pops pull navy rank? Yes, yes they did. They also said that they’re going to bring them joyrides in Dad’s P-51, along with creating their flight suit for them. This baby is not even born yet and they’re already getting spoiled.

“Mavs going to be insufferable when the baby comes isn’t he?” Rooster questioned.

“Totally,” Mickey and I answered at the same time.

The three of us clinked our glasses and ate out dessert while we watched our parents continue to bicker.

The Dagger Squad

“Alright, is everything set and ready?” I asked Mickey as I walked down the stairs wearing a loose outfit that hid my fifteen-week bump.

“Yep,” he nodded. “Ready for this?”

“Yeah, I’m just surprised Bradley managed to keep this a secret for three weeks,” I chuckled.

“I mean you were gone for three weeks because of work,” he pointed out.

“That is true,” I agreed and finished arranging everything.

The doorbell rang and Mickey went to go open the door while I get the food out of the oven. Hearing the Daggers’ voices as they entered the house, I put the trays of pasta on the counter so they could cool off. Walking out of the kitchen I greeted all of them with hugs and offered them some drinks.

“Pretty nice place here,” Bradley said as he walked into the kitchen with me as we grabbed the drinks.

“Thanks,” I handed him the beer bottles. “Pretty reasonable priced for a five bed and four bath. So, you got the card?”

“Yep,” he replied while pulling the card out of his pocket.

Thanking and grabbing it from him, we brought the drinks out and all of us sat around the table on the back patio. Mickey and I headed back into the kitchen to grab the dishes of pasta and other side dishes before starting dinner. When sitting back at the table, Mickey and I said a few words before digging in.

Throughout the dinner, all of us talked about things that they did today and the past three weeks when I was gone. I’ve also told them the things I got up to while I was traveling and making deals with partners of the company that I work at. Traveling around Europe and Asia for three weeks is pretty tiring, even when you’re pregnant.

When dinner was wrapped up and finished, some of them helped carry the dirty plates to the kitchen as Mickey and I set up the game. I bought a custom loteria card with a pregnant person on it and would be calling it out when it came to there. Everyone would be confused at first but someone is going to get it soon. With the dishes all put away in the dishwasher and bring washed, everyone sat back around the table and had their board in front of them with a small pile of coins. I shuffled the cards and slipped in the custom card somewhere in the stack.

Starting the game, I read out the cards as everyone searched for the picture. After a couple of cards, I peeked and saw the announcement was the next one.

“La embarazada!” I called out.

“I don’t have that one,” Bob called out.

“Me too,” Reuben agreed as he looked at his board.

“Same,” some of the other pilots agreed.

“I have this one,” I told them with a smile on my face.

“Wait, that’s a pregnant lady,” Hangman looked at the card.

“No,” I saw Pheonix’s eyes widen.

“Shut up!” Halo explained.

“You’re joking,” Reuben looked at Mickey.

“We’re not,” Mickey and I laughed at everyone’s reactions.

“Bradshaw! You knew?” Phoenix saw the smirk on his face.

“Hey, I was told not to tell everyone,” Bradley raised his hands in surrender.

I got up from my seat and showed everyone my bump. “Fifteen weeks.”

Everyone cheered in celebration and congratulated us. I showed some of them the scans and the others talked to Mickey. Halo and Phoenix started to talk to my belly so the baby could hear their voices. Meanwhile, the guys were debating on who was going to be the best uncle since Reuben is going to be their godfather. All of them started to list their reasons while Halo, Phoenix, Mickey, and I shook our heads in disbelief at what is happening in front of us.

“They’re gonna be a headache when this baby arrives aren’t they?” I questioned.

“Yep!” The three of them answered.

#mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey garcia imagine #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia fluff #fanboy x reader #fanboy imagine #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #top gun headcanons #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun #mickey garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy garcia

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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For The Gold 🥇 | Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Pilot/Olympian!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), slight Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Content warnings: fluff, mentions of injuries, slight profanity. Might be emotional for you so be warned| Gn!reader (They/them) | wc: 12k+

Premise: In which the 2019 TopGun Uranium detachment return to Fightertown to watch and cheer on their colleague & friend as they compete on the greatest sporting stage the world has ever seen for their last chance at Olympic glory.

Note: so I was an athlete growing up (I did gymnastics, soccer, and figure skating) and although I no longer pursue my dream of going to the Olympics (my biggest regret in life) I still get super excited when it comes around. It’s currently World Cup season & I’m hyperfixating to say the least on sports and now have these ideas of a professional athlete!reader works for the dagger squad. Let me know if you want more because I totally have ideas for other sports— especially the ones I played because I have more personal knowledge of them, but I LOVE watching the track and field and nearly went that path when I was a kid because I loved to run and was really fast (I played wing for soccer in high school and I always had people tell me I should’ve been on the track team instead). For this imagine, imagine you were born in 1990 so it would put you at age 30-31 in 2021 and just to be clear this is following the idea that the events of TGM took place in 2019 since the movie was supposed to come out around that time or 2020.

“Let’s freaking go!!!” Javy practically shouts as he claps his hands when entering The Hard Deck to a crowd of people and his friends. Eyes were already glued to the multiple TV screens Penny had set up with the help of regular patrons. There was a table filled with food set out, coolers of ice and beers donated by customers. The bar was buzzing with excitement with many sporting team USA gear and waving American flags. It was the early hours of the morning—literally 5 am and everyone in the building had slept the duration of the previous day in order to pull an all-nighter or had just woken up. They wanted to watch the event live and not the replay later that day due to the 17 hour time difference. News crews were there as well, hoping to catch everyone’s reaction.

The squad rolled their eyes at their colleague, but smiled nonetheless. They too were filled with anticipation. “How much time until their up?” Coyote asked, taking a beer before finding a place beside Hangman. The Dagger squad had arrived early to get good spots with Coyote being the last to arrive. Now there was hardly any space in some areas with the turn out. Civilians and servicemen swarmed every corner.

“About thirty or so minutes. They should be coming into the arena soon.”

Everyone from TopGun was there, including Cyclone, Warlock, Hondo, Maverick and the current aviators going through the TopGun program. Many of the former 2019 detachment had gone off to their old or new assignments, but as soon as the announcement of the team hit the news they were popping off in the group chat and booking flights to Fightertown.

So here they all were. All 12 of the special detachment that trained together for a high-risk uranium enrichment plant mission back again in the Hard Deck like the first night three ago. Rooster, Hangman, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz, Halo, Omaha, Harvard, and Yale. They were only missing one person.

The person across the Pacific Ocean who was the reason they were together to cheer on from home, and would be going for the gold in one final run.

It was the first week of August, 2021. The Games of the XXXII Olympiad in Tokyo, Japan.

What should have been held the year prior, was postponed due to the COVID-19 Pandemic. Now after years of hard work & dedications, nearly 12 thousand athletes from 206 nations around the world were gathered for the greatest sports event in history.

17 days, 339 events in 33 sports. The gold medal on the line.

For Y/n L/n, this was the moment they’d been waiting for. At 31 years old, Y/n spent their entire childhood and adolescence dreaming of the day they would walk through the tunnel of an Olympic arena to represent the USA. From the moment they could walk the track became their life. Their parents were coaches at Vanderbilt University and were the contributing factor to them pursuing the sport. And at age six, Y/n sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium in the summer of 1996 where they witnessed with awe as Micheal Johnson won the gold for the USA in the Men’s 200m & 400m sprint and Carl Lewis defended his title of the long jump champion for four consecutive Olympics. Just days prior Y/n witnessed history for USA Gymnastics when the Magnificent 7 defeated Russia for the US’s first women’s All-Around team gold medal.

It was a memorable Games, held on home soil in the city of Atlanta and with many firsts and defenders.

It was the spark of a lifelong goal for the six year old in the stands.

Blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. From an early age Y/n loved to run. But sprinting was their passion. The 100m, 200m, & 400m became their sole focus.

Everyday, sometimes twice or three times Y/n was running drills and sprints. Their day would start with an early morning jog with their dad before the sun was even out, followed by breakfast before heading to the track. From there they would stretch, run drills, and conditioning. Then they would have an hour break for lunch before doing it all over again until dinner. The day would end with another cycle of drills and conditioning. Y/n would be out of breath, sweating, and sometimes in pain.

But they were determined. Like most athletes who dedicate their lives to the international level they became homeschooled and missed out on many things a typical child or teen would experience. Though Y/n had friends it was only a select few. There was hardly time for a social life and therefore it was hard for them to form connections. It wasn’t until they got into competitions did they begin making friends with fellow competitors.

At age 10 Y/n participated in their first meet. It was a let down, but not a total loss. Sure they didn’t win a medal but they didn’t come in last and that in itself was a win in their eyes. It just made them more determined to do better and the next season they delivered by claiming a regional title. As years went by regionals became state titles and soon Y/n was a national champion at age 16. That winning season had brands reaching out to sponsor the teen, but if they were to also take a chance at an NCAA title in college then sponsorships were gonna have to wait.

2008 was the year to remember. Y/n had attended their first World Championships and although they didn’t win gold, they took the bronze and became a likely contender to make the Olympic team in the upcoming trials. They had just graduated with their diploma and had accepted a full ride to Vanderbilt University as part of their track team. What came as a big surprise to their parents was Y/n would not just be getting their degree and competing for the college team, they would also be doing the Naval ROTC program.

Unbeknownst to their family, Y/n was drawn to the world of aviation. Their grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and would tell them stories of what it was like in the air. He even had a cool callsign, ‘Viper,’ and taught at the Navy’s prestigious school for pilots. When Y/n was a child, he would take them to the air shows and teach them all about the maneuvers they were doing and even brought them to TopGun. They were in awe as he would explain all the gadgets and weapons of the F-14.

Yes, track and the Olympics was their life, but something was calling them to the skies.

“Honey, where did this come from? You never talked about joining the Navy before,” their mother said with confusion at the dinner table when Y/n explained their upcoming schedule. “If you make the team this summer I hope you’re not planning for this to be your only games. You’re so young and could easily go again for London and the 2016 games.”

“That’s still the plan, mom,” Y/n sighed, “But you remember all those stories grandpa would tell me about his pilot days? I want to do something more in case this doesn’t work out—have a backup plan per say. What if I tear my hamstring or something happens that I have to retire?” It wasn’t something they liked to think about, but with being an athlete the next meet is never guaranteed. Injuries are common—especially torn ACLs and hamstrings. Y/n had other passions besides track and wanted something there for if the worst happened.

“Y/n, if you do two years of their program you have to decide whether to commit or not and you’ll likely be commissioned when you graduate,” their father pointed out, “That means you’ll have new priorities and if you're serious about flight school that is going to cut time off the track. London is possible given it will be your last year in college—maybe we can pull some strings and have your commission pushed back if you make the team—-but I don’t think 2016 would be. You’re talking balancing a career as a Naval officer and professional athlete. That’s a lot to take on—physically and mentally.”

He had a point and Y/n knew it. London was in four years and definitely possible even if they fail to make the Beijing team. The location of 2016 had yet to be decided, but with the timing it would put Y/n four years into a possible Navy career.

Still they were wanted to make both work.

An Olympic champion and a fighter pilot.

First they had to get through 2008 and boy was it a year to remember. It fulfilled one half of the Olympic dream for Y/n: making the team and competing on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Tears streamed down their face as they embraced their parents following the end of the trials. It was a hell of a trials with Y/n competing against some of the best track stars in the country. They were completely starstruck when Allison Felix congratulated them following the announcement, Y/n remembered watching her four years prior in Athens for her Olympic debut and thought, ‘I really hope we’re teammates in Beijing.’

Unfortunately, a gold medal was not in store for the athlete. Of the three events; 100m, 200m, & 400m, Y/n only qualified for the 200m & 400m after finishing in the top two of their heat. The night of the 200m finals was a saddening with Y/n finishing fourth, just shy of a medal, but the Games were not a total loss when days later an Olympic bronze medal was placed around their neck and the American Flag rose alongside Great Britain and Jamaica’s.

And so the next four years of training for London—with Rio De Janeiro in 2016 looming around the corner—began the second they touched back on U.S soil. On top it was the pressure of securing NCAA titles not to mention A’s & B’s in their classes, while also getting through one of the top collegiate ranked NROTC programs.

It was a lot. And Y/n became burnt out at times. They had already set their name in record books at the national level, now it was time to amp up the game on the international and college level. A bronze medal would not satisfy Y/n, gold was the goal.

It all paid off by the time 2012 arrived. With a few more national titles under their belt and a World Championship in the 400m, Y/n was the talk for a gold among commentators. At the end of their collegiate career they secured several titles in their three events and managed to come out with a 3.8 cumulative GPA. In regards to the NROTC Y/n committed to the program after their second year and was set to commission that summer. The trials were around the same time as what would have been the ceremony, but after several meetings they allowed it to be postponed until after the trials. It would be some time before Y/n would be assigned an OTS due to the path they were taking with flight school and therefore it would likely not interfere with the upcoming Olympics. “Bring home the gold for us,” the officer shook their hand at the end. It filled them with nerves, but mostly perseverance, “I plan to.”

The trials were a success once again with Y/n having the honor to call themselves a two-time Olympian. The five colored rings were tattooed on their bicep, something they did immediately after Beijing that often resulted in being recognized in public, and gold was in their mind. After qualifying for all three events and earning a place on the 4x100 relay, Y/n had four chances at the gold: 3 individual and 1 team.

It was a silver lining moment in all three individual events. After failing to qualify for the 100m finals in Beijing, Y/n pulled a show stopping finish in the last heat earning them a place in the final. It was the most heat pumping 10 seconds of their life that happened in the blink of an eye. Before they knew it they were on the podium with a silver medal and the same would follow in the 200m and 400m. At the end of the 400m ceremony they were bombarded by reporters with the same question, “Y/n, what a run tonight, congratulations again this is your third medal in these games and it seems to be a silver lining moment for you. What are your thoughts?”

Still coming off the emotion from winning their fourth Olympic medal, a privilege not many could say, Y/n smiled wide, “It’s amazing really, you know I took the bronze four years ago in this event and I’m so grateful to come out with another medal—this time being silver. I couldn’t believe Monday night when I took the silver in the 100m—just making it to the finals after not qualifying in Beijing was an accomplishment and same goes for taking second in the 200m. I want to thank my parents, who are also my coaches and have been with me on this journey since the beginning. I’m just so blessed and filled with happiness tonight—I could not have done this without them.”

“You still have a chance at the gold in Wednesday’s relay. How are you feeling about that? What can we expect by the team?”

“We have such an amazing group for the relay, I’m so honored I get to represent the United States alongside them. Every one of us have worked so hard to be here and have really put our blood, sweat, and tears. Hopefully bring home the gold—I know each of us are going to give it our best.”

Y/n’s publicist from the side was signaling for them to hurry up, “One last question before you go,” the reporter quickly said. “For the people at home who have been cheering you on these past four years, can we expect you to return for Rio? I know you could very well take the gold in the relay, but are you hoping to try for an individual in the future?” This was the question Y/n had been preparing for the entire games. Having managed to keep their NROTC program hidden from the media, it troubled Y/n to reveal they would be a Navy officer by the end of the summer. It wasn’t odd for active duty members to be athletes, there were plenty who participated in the games every four years. It would just be difficult given the career path they chose and having to get all the paperwork filed for time off around meets and international competitions.

After a moment of thinking, they finally answered, “I’m very lucky I get to say I competed in these games twice now. I’m twenty-two now and will be twenty-six by the time Rio comes around—not to mention I start flight school pretty soon,” there was immediate surprise by the reporter, but Y/n continued and was quick to finish with. “I’m gonna work hard as I always do and hopefully Rio is in the cards for me. But to give a yes or no imma just say yes, that is the plan.”

Before the reporter could question the topic of flight school, Y/n was already saying goodbye and letting their publicist pull them away. The relay was in two days and was their last chance at winning a gold for the London games. Of course, Y/n was hopeful they would make the Rio team for the sake of winning an individual gold medal. There would no doubt be glory and honor if they were to win the relay, but it had been their dream since childhood to stand on the podium with a gold around their neck for one of their events.

The relay was all they ever dreamed of. A strong group with Y/n leading the first leg before handing it off, giving their teammate a great start to pull a lead against the other nations. As they were walking back to the start, their heart was racing and not just from the adrenaline…but by their teammate being the first to cross the finish line. Then there was the sound of the announcer amongst the roaring crowd, “WORLD RECORD!!!” with the USA appearing beside the #1 spot.

Y/n was screaming before they could stop themselves, “Oh my god!!” knees hit the track as they sank to the ground. They couldn’t even hear themselves by the cheers. It was a spectacular moment with Y/n pulling themselves up to run and embrace their teammates and share the glory they just made. Not only were they Olympic champions but also World Record holders of the 4x100m relay.

“The United States has taken the gold here today in the 4x100m relay and a new world record has been set thanks to the extraordinary start by Y/n L/n.” “This relay group gave it their all today, John. It was such a close call coming around on the third leg, but the Americans pulled through for a stunning finish for Olympic gold.”

With an American flag in their hand, Y/n joined their teammates beside the record projection. They were teary eyed, but held off from crying because they knew the emotion would come full heartedly on the podium. And boy did it come. The second the national anthem was playing, the first tear fell from Y/n’s eyes. The medal was heavy around their neck, but it was a reminder that they achieved the goal they set out when they were six years old.

Olympic champion.

And they got to share it with their teammates—an immense honor they would cherish till the end of time.

Y/n could barely remember all that happened following the podium ceremony. After a celebration with their parents and best friend, who flew all the way out to London to support them, they had no more events and got to rest for the remainder of the games. Closing ceremonies were spectacular. One of Y/n’s favorite moments from the Beijing games was getting to mingle with athletes from the other nations during the closing ceremonies. This time around Y/n was speechless as they got to see a Spice Girls reunion and One Direction perform.

Life became chaotic to say the least following the return from London. After winning four medals including a gold, Y/n was asked by several talk show hosts to appear for an interview. They accepted a few and were immediately bombarded with questions about the little detail they slipped after winning the silver in the 400m. “You made it known to the world that you’ll be going to flight school, was it? What can you tell us about that?”

“Well during my time at Vanderbilt, where I competed for them in the NCAA—which can I say, It’s a completely different ball field when your parents are not only your coaches for international competitions but also college meets. The energy is different, especially because they’ve been there for almost two decades now and are the definition of school spirit. Anyways, while I was there I also took the route of doing their Navy ROTC program. My grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and pretty much became my inspiration for wanting to fly—on top of being an athlete. It was something I thought long and hard about. I wasn’t sure if I would even make the London team and of course anything can happen, but I knew I wanted to go to fight school back when I competed in 2008. I actually will be commissioning once I’m done with all this post-Olympic press.”

The ceremony was a bittersweet moment. With their friends and family around them, Y/n was pinned on with the ranks of Ensign and named an officer of the United States Navy. From there were the challenges of balancing a career as both a professional athlete and naval aviator. Often were days of bad mental health and aches after overexertion. OTS & Flight school was intense but shaped Y/n in many ways. The first day they were recognized by a classmate resulting in the callsign, “Olympian,” after everyone would say, “Hey, Olympian!” when calling out to them after two straight days.

“Could’ve been worse,” Y/n chuckled after their parents were like, ‘really?’ when they told them. “I mean it could have been something like ‘Short-track,’ or ‘Goldilocks,’ if they thought about it. If I fucked up doing something then they would’ve named me something related to it. I’ll take Olympian cause that’s what I am.”

After completing flight school and receiving their first duty station, Y/n made the decision to hire a new coach. The World Championships were coming up and they did not want to uproot their parents while they were still the head coaches at Vanderbilt. At first they protested, but eventually relented on the condition that Y/n’s coach would be their former colleague. He was the former head coach of Vanderbilt when their parents were athletes themselves before becoming assistant coaches. “He is everything you need to bring your A-game these next seasons and Rio. I’ll make the call first thing in the morning and see what he says.”

The four years between London and Rio were brutal. The training with their new coach and balancing an aviation career showed more hardships than ever. Y/n proved themselves to be a talented pilot despite the struggles and eventually was invited in 2015 to attend the Navy’s prestigious Fighter Weapons School more commonly known as Top Gun. The same place their grandfather attended and taught at.

A hard decision had to be made when the invite came. The time period interfered with the track season and Y/n would not be able to defend their two-consecutive world titles in the 400m sprint. In the end, Y/n announced they would be pulling out from the 2015 season to attend Top Gun. They weighed out the pros and cons and felt it was the best route given the Olympics were a year away. If an injury were to occur then it could result in Y/n not even having the chance to do the trials. Their coach was frustrated in the beginning, as one would be after dominating the national and international meets for two years straight. He eventually put his differences aside to put focus on what Y/n needed to improve if they were to take the gold in Rio.

It was at Top Gun that Y/n met fellow naval aviator Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. They were seated next to each other in one of the many lecture rooms at Fightertown where Nat had to do a double take after recognition sparked in her. Nat was an athlete in high school and college who, like many, would sit with her family to watch the Olympics every four years. Though she didn’t run track, a sibling of hers did so they would always tune into the events when they came on. After seeing the patch reading ‘Olympian,’ Nat had to hold back her fangirling as the memory of her cheering when the US took gold in the 4x100m relay. ‘It has to be them.’ At the end of the lecture she approached Y/n with a shy smile, “I’m so sorry if this is weird for you, but are you Y/n L/n? I’m Natasha—Phoenix.”

They struck up a friendship during their time at Top Gun. The two bonded over their NCAA careers and sports in general. Nat admired Y/n for being able to balance being an athlete and aviator, for she made the difficult decision to not pursue her sport after college. What was ironic was they didn’t feel threatened by the other when going after the top spot in their class, considering they were both obviously competitive. Both had immense respect for the other, and didn’t care at the end of the day who came out on top. They both had similar hobbies outside of flying and would spend nights watching movies, going to the bars, or playing volleyball with their fellow pilots. It was a genuine friendship with Nat supporting Y/n even after they graduated from Top Gun both ranked #1 in their class.

Nat even took time off to attend the 2016 U.S. Track & Field Olympic Trials. There she witnessed Y/n, who she now called a best friend, qualify for their third consecutive Olympics. Nat never screamed louder in her life than when Y/n took the top spot on the team for their events. “Oh my God, you did it!” She hugged the athlete when it was all done. “Holy shit congratulations, Oly! This is it—this is gonna be your year!” Nat wouldn’t be in Rio, but promised to cheer Y/n from home.

Unfortunately the journey for the individual gold medal ended before it could even start. After qualifying for the 100m and 200m finals with the expectation of being part of the relay team once again, Y/n’s dream of gold crashed during the semifinals of the 400m.

Literally crashed.

Their signature event which had an Olympic bronze and silver to their name as well as several World titles, ended in catastrophe. As Y/n came up on the last leg with the final turn, Y/n had a tight lead against their main opponent. But before they could blink the athlete to their left tripped and fell to the side directly in front of them. Moving so fast and unable to stop to avoid the person, Y/n topped over and felt a searing pain in their side as they landed awkwardly.

Gasps rang out before the stadium fell silent with just the faint sound of cheers from the winners of the race. Y/n was panting, clutching onto their side as fire filled the entire right side of their body. The athlete who tripped was in tears and apologizing profusely. There was still adrenaline from the sprint as the arena stopped spinning around Y/n. Determined to cross the finish line, Y/n pulled themself up and helped their fellow athlete up, “It’s okay, c’mon. Let’s finish this.” They were crying and Y/n had their own tears from the pain in their side and leg, but they only had a few yards to go. Cradling their right arm, Y/n was practically limping alongside their opponent while struggling to breath. Each time they took a breath they were met with pain, not to mention each step had them wince.

They didn’t want to think of the extent of the injuries. The pain alone indicated it was bad. Y/n knew right there their Rio run was done for. Their lips trembled as the reality set in.

The athlete saw Y/n’s condition and immediately brought them to their side as they approached the finish line. Cheers and claps ignited the stadium. There was no doubt they were moved by the display of sportsmanship between two athletes from differing nations. Both with the same goal of Olympic glory that would not be delivered.

Y/n was swarmed by the medical staff. The athlete who tripped them kept apologizing, filled with guilt, embarrassment and shame causing injuries to the Olympian. They felt a little pain from falling but nothing to the extent Y/n had. They had practically gone flying forward and crash landed to avoid hitting their head hard on the track. Now that the adrenaline had finally worn off, Y/n was having to do everything to hold back from collapsing. Y/n embraced the athlete with a hug despite the multiple medics yelling at them, “Don’t blame yourself, it could have happened to anyone. Okay? I’m not angry with you at all.” It was true, Y/n wasn’t angry. Were they sad? Of course, their Olympics were totally over after being diagnosed with a fractured right arm, a bruised rib, mild concussion from hitting their head on the track, and a torn ACL in their right knee.

Commentators were speechless when the incident occurred, “Coming around the corner on the final stretch it’s a tight race between USA, Jamaica, and France—Oh! Oh no! Oh my goodness, there’s been a crash here ladies and gentleman and it doesn’t look good for the American Y/n L/n. Not at all, they are not moving—oh wait no they are getting up right now and helping the athlete from Poland. But L/n looks to be in pain they’re holding onto their arm and I can see they are having trouble jogging—a slight limp to their step. Now the Polish athlete has taken L/n under their arm and they are crossing the finish line to the cheers of the arena in a display that could only be described as what the Olympics is truly about. Great sportsmanship here folks. It’s unsure what L/n is feeling right now but one thing is certain, we will not get to see Y/n go for the gold in the 400m final.”

After the race when the NBC announcers live from Rio were in the studio recapping, they gave an update to Y/n’s situation.

“Breaking news we’ve just received on American Y/n L/n. After the unfortunate incident in tonight’s 400m semifinal, the 26-year-old from Nashville, Tennessee was rushed to the hospital after it was realized the injuries they sustained were more severe than what they thought. It’s being reported Y/n is in surgery for a fracture to their right arm and torn ligament in their right knee. It’s also been noted the athlete suffered a mild concussion as well as a bruised rib. Their coach has come out with a statement on behalf of L/n letting it be known they’ll not be competing in the 100 and 200m finals nor the 4x100 and 4x400m relays they were scheduled to compete in. L/n also has said they will remain in Rio to recover until after the conclusion of these Olympic Games before returning with their teammates to the States.

“The gold medalist in the team relay from four years ago has not said if they will be aiming for a shot at the 2020 games in Tokyo, Japan. L/n was the 2008 bronze medalist in the 400m dash before claiming silver medals in the 100, 200, and 400m in London as well as sharing the gold for the 4x100m relay. They were the leading contender for an individual gold in one of the events after dominating the 2013 and 2014 World Championships. The three-time Olympian pulled out from the 2015 season due to conflicting commitments after revealing in 2012 they were commissioned into the United States Navy following their time at Vanderbilt University. These games in Rio were their first international competition since the one year hiatus. We can only hope Y/n will continue their journey to an individual gold medal in Tokyo, but from those of us in the studio and on behalf of everyone watching at home, we wish Y/n L/n a speedy recovery and safe trip back to the States.”

It was a solemn week in Rio with Y/n sitting in a hospital bed and the games playing on the tv screen. Their coach was with them, as was their dad and together they cheered the US when they took the gold in several events including defending the 4x100m relay. The doctors in Rio gave Y/n a recovery period of nearly one year—the longest healing process being the torn knee. It would be nine months until Y/n could even jog on it, but the doctors recommended waiting a full year before testing it. PT was going to be a pain in the ass, but as long as they didn’t run or do sprints then Y/n would be able to do all else after everything else healed.

Their concussion lasted a couple weeks and the bruised rib took over a month to heal, as did the fractured arm. The 2017 worlds and nationals were out of the question. Thankfully Y/n was still able to fly once the concussion was gone and their arm was fully functional.

The entire year the athlete was unsure of what to do about Tokyo. All their focus was put into flying. Running missions instead of the track and being promoted to Lieutenant in 2018. That same year they decided to try for one more shot at Olympic gold by training for Tokyo. Their coach and parents were all too pleased—even Nat after Y/n called her up to ask for advice. They had a lot to work on since Y/n waited an extra six months after fully recovering. The 2018 season was unattainable so the goal was a comeback in the 2019 season gearing up for the 2020 Olympics.

Just like when Y/n was a child, blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. More times could they remember wanting to quit when their knee started to act up after a bad start off the blocks. They had more arguments with their coach which only fueled the fire. Lastly they were on intense missions that took a toll on their mental health. Nat would check in on them every once in a while, but Y/n brushed it off. This is what they signed up for. They made their bed, now they were to lay in it.

2019 nearly brought deja vu. The World Championships were held in Qatar at the end of September leading into October when Y/n got the call from Vice Admiral Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson.

“The Pentagon has tasked me with assembling a strike team for a special detachment. I’ve seen your record and I feel you have what it takes to be a possible member of this mission. Now I know your situation and it is my understanding you’re currently in Qatar, what time are you expected to be stateside?”

Y/n’s hands were shaking, dread filling them at the thought they would likely have to decline an assignment. But these championships were more imported. “The last day is the sixth, but if I qualify for the finals of all my events then I should be done by the fifth, sir.”

“That’s perfect,” his words had them sigh in relief. “The tentative date to report to North Island is the 24th. I’ll be emailing you the information at another time.”

“Yes, sir. I will be there. Thank you for informing me, sir.”

“Oh and Lieutenant?” Cyclone stopped them before they could end the call.

“Yes, sir?”

There’s a slight pause, “Good luck out there. Bring home the gold for us.”

And bring it home they did. In an amazing comeback after what could have been a career ending injury, Y/n L/n reclaimed their title as the world champion in the 400m dash. They fell short in the 200m, but left with the silver and even secured the gold for the team 4x100m & 4x400m relays. People called it the ‘comeback of the decade,’ and Y/n fell subject to a lot of media attention in the world of sports. Their publicist did their best to handle the press once they found out about Y/n’s upcoming commitment. “I won’t let a single soul find out about this, Y/n, I promise you. The devil works hard, but I work harder.”

Once stateside track was put on hold to prepare and partake for the special Top Gun detachment. Dressed in their service khaki’s, Y/n entered The Hard Deck for the first time in three years and was immediately tackled by Phoenix. “You’re here! Holy shit when did you get back?”

“Like two weeks ago, I’ve been chilling since Qatar since there were no assignments until this.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Top Gun detachment too?” Phoenix raised a brow before frowning, “Why didn’t you tell me the other day on the phone?”

Y/n gave the woman a look, “I wasn’t sure we could even mention it to people. Plus you didn’t say anything either, Phee.” They got her there, the pilot raising a hand as if to say, “touché”. By now they have drawn the attention of several other aviators, who all appeared amused by the display of affection by Natasha and were curious to know who it was that received it. One person, Bob, had their jaw dropped when it clicked who they were. Payback appeared to be deep in thought, like they recognized Y/n but couldn’t put a name to their face.

“Trace, you gonna introduce us to your friend?” the blonde aviator, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin said with a pool cue in hand. He was totally checking Y/n out with a settle drift of the eyes up and down. They didn’t look impressed but smiled to the others nonetheless.

Natasha brought the pilot over and proudly introduced them, “Fellas, this is Y/n L/n. Better known as ‘Olympian.’ One of the best damn pilots you’ll ever see. We both shared the honor of first in the class at Top Gun in 2015.” Nat then introduced all the guys and their callsigns, Y/n shaking each of their hands—Bob still appeared starstruck when they let go of his hand.

“Olympian, huh?” Hangman chuckled at the name, “That’s quite the callsign. What are you Greek? Or obsessed with mythology?” Rooster glared at the man, but also looked curious for the reason behind the Y/n’s callsign. Even their name sounded familiar. They had yet to see the tattoo on Y/n’s bicep, which now had the names Beijing XXIX, London XXX and Rio XXXI in tiny cursive below the rings.

Before Nat or Y/n could fire back at Jake, Bob dropped his cup of peanut shells. Everyone looked at him like, ‘what the hell, man?’ But Y/n started to smile, recognizing the shock in his face as though he had been right about something.

“S-sorry. Oh my God,” he stuttered with red cheeks, “You’re Y/n L/n. L-like THE Olympic gold medalist Y/n L/n. Oh my God I’ve watched you since 2008–since Beijing!” The revelation had shocked looks from everyone now besides Nat of course.

Payback suddenly jumped from his seat, “holy shit! I knew I recognized you from somewhere but couldn’t exactly figure it out for the life of me.” The man was stationed in London at the time of the Olympic Games and attended the night the US won gold in the relays. Now here is a member that he cheered on from the stands in front of him. “Wow, I was in London seven years ago—I-I saw you compete. This is fucking unreal.” Y/n laughed, shaking Payback’s hand. He was still coming down from the shock, having just crossed his mind that all over ESPN and Sportscenter the past month sportscasters were talking about Y/n’s comeback.

“Wait a minute,” Rooster pitched in, the memory of being in a bar the summer of 2016 played in his mind. In the same memory he remembered watching the 400m semifinals on the tv scream and gasping with everyone else when the American contender for the gold had tripped over their competitor and was out the remainder of the games. Coming closer to the scene in front of him, Rooster’s eyes caught the black ink on Y/n’s bicep. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re a pilot, a naval pilot like us? And you’re a fucking olympian?”

“Three-time to be exact, but who’s counting?” Y/n teased, causing Phoenix to chuckle and hand them a beer. All the men minus Payback and Bob, who had slight knowledge of Y/n’s career, practically had their eyes bulging. Rooster honestly thought they had just been in London and Rio. “It’s nice to meet you all. And to answer your question…Bradley, right?”

“Yeah, but please call me Rooster.” Y/n tried not to giggle at the callsign.

“Rooster, but yes I am a pilot, as our lovely Phoenix has pointed out I graduated Top Gun with her three years ago.”

“Weren’t you just in Qatar two weeks ago?” Payback asked when he remembered the World Championships in Athletics had just taken place. All over sportscenter they were talking about the comeback of the decade. “I swear I just watched you on my tv the other day during replays of the world championships.”

Y/n sipped their beer before replying with a nod, “Yeah I was. I probably wouldn’t be here if the timing wasn’t perfect.”

“That’s crazy,” Fanboy commented, still in disbelief he was speaking to an actual Olympic athlete. After hearing the stories from his fellow athletes— and doing a quick google search when no one was looking—Mickey was internally fanboying like his callsign namesake. “How have you managed to do both?”

“Lot’s of sleepless nights, determination, desire to win, and tequila on the weekends.” There were laughs at that. For the rest of the night Y/n fell into conversation with everyone. A few asked for a picture, which they were happy to do, and even signed some autographs for Bob and Fanboy. They caught up with Nat, relieved London memories with Payback and went into detail about their injuries when Rooster brought it up.

“I was at the bar with some buddies and saw that happen live. Everyone couldn’t believe it and I remember seeing you limp across the finish line with the, I think it was the Polish athlete? That’s amazing you even managed to get up after a crash like that.” Y/n was on their second beer, sitting between Bob and Coyote and across from Rooster while the others listened from the sides as they continued the game of pool.

“What were you thinking at that moment?” Javy asked with curiosity. “Did you like automatically know it was over for you?”

Y/n thought for a bit before replying, “the second I hit the track I knew my chances for the 400m were done—it was the semifinals after all. When I first felt the pain I thought it was the typical instant pain that would go away after a bit. Then when I started to move it got worse and as soon as I got up I thought, ‘yeah there’s no way I’m gonna be able to do the finals or relays.’ My chest was on fire from the bruised rib and then I could barely feel my knee once the adrenaline wore off. I probably would’ve collapsed after the finish line if they weren’t holding me up.”

‘Damns’ and ‘wows,’ rang out before Bob politely asked, “Are you going to try for the Tokyo team?”

“Yup,” they exhaled with a nervous chuckle at the end. “It’s gonna be tough I feel with how these past couple seasons have been, but I’m hoping for one final Olympics. It will be my last chance at gold—Individual gold,” they corrected before anyone could comment.

“You’re gonna retire?” Fanboy tilted his head, a little saddened at the thought. Throughout the night he had been on his phone watching replays of Y/n’s meets including their Olympic and World Championship runs. He tried not to react when he watched the 2016 400m semifinals. Now the thought of them retiring felt like a loss to the sport. It was like how he felt when Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt retired.

“Maybe not fully,” Y/n gave a small smile. “I might do one last season and a Worlds, but I don’t think I’m gonna go for the Paris Games.”

Payback came over and clapped them on the back, “Well I don’t know about these clowns but you can count on me to cheer you on next year. Hell I might even come to the trials.”

“That’s what I did in ‘16,” Phoenix cut in with a smile. “It was amazing and I’ll be in the stands again. Already planning to take time off to be there.” Y/n felt the warmth and gratitude swarm in them, “Thanks, Phee.”

What should have been three weeks of special combat training turned out to be two. The pressure was on with Y/n pushing their limit harder than ever—even exceeded that of their comeback. Never had the F-18 they’d become accustomed to flying feel like a stranger. Maverick was like their coach and Y/n made it their own personal goal to prove to him they had what it took to fly the mission.

At one point Y/n nearly pulled out as a candidate. When the details of the assignment were brought into light Y/n had to think hard about what they were doing. It was not going to be an easy mission. Not by a long shot. Ending badly was a great possibility compared to actually pulling it off. Their life was on the line.

What if they died? What if they got injured to the point they would have to medically retire? Decades of training for the Olympics would end if something horrible happened. Y/n had three to their name, an honor not everyone gets to have, but there was their chance at redemption after 2016 was now on the line.

In the end 6 of the 13 candidates were chosen and although Y/n felt a little saddened they were not chosen, there was a sense of relief. They were put on reserves and boarded the carrier for a long week ahead of them. When it was time to send off their teammates, Y/n pulled them each into a hug, letting it linger on Nat and making her promise to come back. “If worse comes to worse, L/n,” Payback said, “You better win the gold in our honor.” There were mutters of agreement from the others.

“How about you focus on coming back so you can watch me win it in your honor.”

They fulfilled the promise, because now here they were in The Hard Deck about to watch Y/n attempt to keep their side of the bargain. It was 5:15 am on Friday August 6th, 2021. The second to last day of the Games of the XXXII Olympiad held in Tokyo, Japan. And it was the finals of the 400m sprint.

Just a couple months ago in June several members of the squad including Phoenix, Payback, Rooster, Hangman, & Bob met up in Eugene, Oregon to attend the trials for the U.S Olympic Track & Field Team. Following covid precautions they wore their masks and stayed together in their own little group literally competing themselves on who could cheer the loudest. It was a bittersweet moment watching their friend and former teammate secure their place in their fourth and final Olympics. Hangman and Phoenix nearly shed a tear, the former consumed with emotion as they looked on proud at their partner waving to the crowd. Their romance was a surprise, but after the two met to catch up in March of 2020, they ended up having to go thorough lockdown together.

And well…..forced proximity can do wonders when you’re attracted to someone.

Jake wished he could be in Tokyo with Y/n, but even though it had been over a year since the virus broke out and sanctions were being uplifted there were still regulations set in stone for the Olympics. The entire event was postponed a whole year, but was still referred to as the 2020 Olympics despite being 2021. Only the athletes and coaches, which were limited to only one, were allowed to travel. Leading up to the Games, Penny had issued a vaccination verification and made the mask policy optional for those who had been fully vaccinated. She even went as far as making a limit for attendees during the week of the track and field events and had people reserve a spot in advance. She even set up screens outside for people to keep space in the building.

It was still a pretty full house and it was buzzing with excitement as it had been the whole week. Many were regulars who came every night to watch the heats, semifinals, and finals of many events but mostly people were there to watch their very own Top Gun alumni Y/n L/n. Even their parents were there—flying to San Diego to be a part of the watch party. They were already filled with nerves, Y/n’s mother was very upset she couldn’t be there in Tokyo with her child. If they won the gold it would be a bittersweet moment since her parents wouldn’t be there to celebrate in person until they returned home.

It was already a successful Games for the Olympian. The week before Y/n won the bronze in the 100m dash and 4x400 mixed relay and reclaimed the silver in the 200m. The place erupted in cheers each time with the dagger squad being the loudest. It would increase whenever the camera panned to Y/n, who was in obvious joy at racking more medals to their Olympic collection.

But now the pressure was on with one final individual event.

The 400m sprint.

Their signature event with two medals and several titles to their name.

One final shot at gold.

There would still be the relays, in which the final for the 4x100m would take place an hour after the 400m final and then the 4x400m the following night, but Y/n becoming an Olympic champion for an individual event would happen in less than fifteen minutes. The program flipped between other events while in prep for the race, often showing Y/n in the tunnel as they awaited the announcement of the finalists.

At around 5:20 all eyes were glued to the screen with someone yelling, “Turn it up!’ when the sportscasters appeared to be talking about Y/n. The pilots all had the same expression, wincing when they replayed the footage of the 2016 semifinals.

“I think we can all agree we are looking forward to this race, right Steph?”

“That’s right, John. You know, all eyes have been on Y/n L/n these Games. They have already had a great run with three medals, two bronze and a silver with three more events to go. They have quite the Olympic career since their debut in 2008 at the age of eighteen. They came up forth in the 200m in Beijing and walked away with the bronze medal in the 400m,” below the commentator was Y/n’s Olympic statistics. “Then they had a spectacular run in London where we saw them on the podium in each of their events. Silver medals in the sprints and It was their start off the blocks in the 4x100m relay that I believe is what secured the Americans the gold.”

“I agree, Steph. I can still recall that race and the emotions I felt. L/n had an amazing post-Olympic run after London—totally dominating the 2013 & 2014 seasons. Let’s not forget they were one of the top athletes in the NCAA’s during their time at Vanderbilt. I definitely believe it would have continued into 2015 if they hadn’t pulled out, but they still were the leading contender for the Rio Games. It was the height of the career I feel.” The screen was now split to showcase footage of Y/n’s 2013 & 2014 Worlds. Then it showed the heats and semifinals of Rio.

“Totally, John, they dominated the trials that year. They very well could have left Rio with more medals—quite possibly a gold in 400m which is their signature event. Everytime I rewatch the semifinals I almost have to look away at the final turn.”

“I know, it was an unfortunate incident that ended Y/n’s Olympics before they could really start. We almost didn’t know if we would even see them here in Tokyo, but after a spectacular comeback at the 2019 World Championships in Qatar, I had very high hopes we would get to this moment.”

“Me too, John, the pressure is on for the 31-year-old, let’s see if they can deliver,” the commentator turns to look at the camera with Y/n’s picture beside her, “Well it’s almost time for the 400m and it looks they are about to announce the finalists so we are going to have our crew in the stadium takeover our coverage. We will see you back here in the studio after the race and be sure to stick around because the night won’t be over for the four-time Olympian. Y/n is set to be one the four of today’s 4x100m relay final and tomorrow’s 4x400m relay.”

The screen switched to reveal the stadium, specifically the entrance tunnel where a projection would show the name and nation of the finalists. Y/n had taken the top spot in their heat and the semifinal so they would get the fourth lane on the track.

“Here we go!” Someone in the Hard Deck clapped, causing a few more people to follow. The cheers heightened when the American flag appeared above the name Y/n L/n.

First the announcement was in Japanese, then the English translator spoke through the stadium “In Lane Four, representing the United States of America, Y/n L/n!” With a shy smile, Y/n appeared from the side and walked until they were directly beneath their name. Then they turned to the camera and gave a wave followed by blowing a kiss to the screen and lastly throwing a peace sign. It must have been a little awkward without a packed stadium like the previous Games. Only a small section was filled with locals and the coaches of the athletes.

“That’s my best friend!” Nat yelled over the cheers. Several others followed the pilot, “Let’s go, Y/n!” “Bring it home!” “One last time, baby, let’s go!”

The remaining finalists were announced and took their place behind the starting blocks. When the camera panned to Y/n, their eyes were closed in a silent prayer.

“Take your mark.”

Their eyes snapped open with a shaky breath, feet carrying them to the starting blocks. Y/n did a ritual stretch down, tapping the tops of their toes with their hands before bending down to place their feet in the right position. Glancing up to the sky, Y/n said in their head, “please, give me this one moment.” Tucking their chin into their chest, Y/n waiting with anticipation like everyone else in the world watching.

It was like time slowed. “Set.” Their knees lifted off the track.

*Pop* the sound of the gun and Y/n catapulted off the blocks. Their eyes never faltered as they ahead at the track and let their legs do the work. In their peripheral they saw their opponents, the space between them slowly decreasing by the second as they pulled into the final stretch. Coming around the corner there was no one in Y/n’s sight. The finish line drew closer. Y/n didn’t know if they were in the lead by a long shot or if it was only a nanosecond.

Their heart pounded in their chest, sweat dripping from their forehead. Heaved breaths left their mouth and Y/n could feel her bad knee start to burn. But they pushed and they pushed.

All Y/n knew as they crossed the finish line was the world record flashed and their eyes snapped to the board which resulted in them screaming. As the announcer yelled through the coms, “WORLD RECORD!!” Y/n fell to their knees in tears.

#1 Y/N L/N—USA 47.50 (WR, OR)

Below their name were spots 2-8. And not only did Y/n just take the gold in their last individual event, but they also broke the World and Olympic records. Records that had been set for decades.

When Y/n finally lifted their head they were met with beaming faces of their competitors. They all congratulated the athlete, some hugging and patting their back. The world record sign was still flashing and Y/n felt another wave of emotion. This time they ran to their coach, aware the cameraman was keeping up with them to get a close look for the viewers at home.

Y/n could only imagine what it was like in Fightertown.

The second the athletes were lining up, Coyote yelled, “Everybody shut up!!” Silence filled the building, everyone’s focus on their respected screen. “Set.” *Pop* The racers were off and the commentators were already speaking frantically. “Great start off the blocks for L/n, coming around on the first turn neck and neck with the athlete from the Bahamas. Jamaica and Great Britain are not too far as they take on the long stretch of the track.”

“Go! Go!” People started to scream. Bob was biting his nails, Rooster was gripping his beer bottle. Hangman and Coyote were already off of their seats, “C’mon, Y/n! You got this!” It got louder as they approached the final turn.

“L/n is starting to pull a lead as they come up the turn, but the Bahamas are right there—this was the moment L/n’s Olympic dreams were shattered in Rio—O-oh! L/n has overtaken the Bahamas—they’ve got a huge gap as they pull into the final stretch! Oh my God we could be witnessing history—L/n is .10ths of a second ahead of the World Record and increasing their lead ahead of the others by an outstanding margin!”

“Let’s go!!!” The commentators' words were barely there as it competed with the uproar of spectators in the Hard Deck. Everyone was pretty much out of their seats and jumping as they watched Y/n’s lead increase with each step to the finish line. “You’re almost there!! Go! Go! Go!”

Then it exploded.

“THEY’VE DONE IT! Y/N L/n has won the gold for America!! They smashed the Olympic record and set the World record for the 400m dash by .10 of a second at these Olympic Games in Tokyo!”

“OH MY GOD!!!” Phoenix and several others screamed. She and Halo embraced in a hug with Nat covering her mouth to hold back her emotion when the screen showed Y/n screaming out to the sky before falling to their knees. The guys were all jumping around, Rooster and Payback embraced in a side hug, pulling Jake who was pretty much in tears as he watched the display of his partner.

“After heartbreak four years ago in Rio that put them out of a chance for the gold, Y/n L/n has come out on top in Tokyo. They can finally add Olympic Champion to their name as well as Olympic and World record holder of the 400m dash. In what could be the last time we see Y/n L/n in an Olympic Games, they have achieved what they set out to do since their debut in Beijing 13 years ago. What a stunning finish to a beautiful Olympic career in the sport of track and field.”

Y/n’s parents were clenched in each other’s arms, eyes rimmed as their own tears poured. They were filled with so much happiness for their child and wished nothing more to be in the crowd and share this moment with them. At the bar top Warlock, Hondo, and Maverick were high-fiving while Cyclone clapped along with a smile. Penny rang the bell simply to join the cheers.

It was truly spectacular to witness. The slow motion replay was on the screen followed by the Y/n’s reaction when they looked up to find their name on the board. The cheers kept going and only started to quiet down when TV showed the athlete in their post race interview. “Y/n, what a night here tonight. Congratulations are in store, you have not only taken an individual gold but also the World record—and the Olympic record! It’s your fourth medal in these Games, the first gold—how are you feeling right now after this victory?”

Everyone hushed to listen, but were grinning wide and some were wiping away tears. Y/n’s face was flushed, still coming off of the high of what had just happened. “O-oh I can’t even put it into words how I’m feeling right now,” there was a slight sniff, Y/n using their finger to wipe their face but was careful not to let the material of the American flag draped around their shoulders touch their skin.

“This is a dream come true. It has been a long journey to get here and I-I am so honored to have been a part of this team for as long as I have. You know after the 100 & 200 I didn’t want to have my hopes too high because as you can see anything can happen in these Games,” Y/n chuckled, eyes glossy, “I think I may have actually blacked out on the last stretch. I just kept my focus on the finish line and was just as amazed to see I had broken the records.”

The title card on the screen now showed: Y/n L/n, Gold Medalist, 400m (WR, OR: 47.50).

“Your friends and family have all gathered in San Diego—they’re watching right now and we actually got footage of their reaction to your win tonight. We’d love to show you if you like.”

“Oh God please,” Y/n was already giggling. The assistant brought over an ipad with a video and pressed play. On the tv screens the image split to show the video beside Y/n’s face to capture their own reaction. They saw the daggers squad in front of the bar while their superiors including Maverick were seated at the bar top. They were all surrounded by servicemen and women as well as civilians. Y/n teared up when they spotted their parents near Jake. By the end of it Y/n was basically crying while laughing. “Oh my God, that is amazing. I wish they could’ve been in the stands. I know my parents are probably thinking how the one time they can’t see me compete in person is when I win.”

The reporter laughed along with them. “I know I gotta let you go cause you’re set to race the relay in less than an hour and the podium ceremony is about to start, but before you go I just want to ask if this is the last time we’ll see you after these Games conclude Sunday night.”

Y/n softly smiled to the reporter, bottom lip slightly trembling, “uhh, you know I wasn’t completely sure. Since Rio I’ve had some troubles with my knee after the torn ACL—I almost wasn’t sure about these Games until 2018. I’ve been talking to Allison Felix these past couple days, since this is gonna be her last Games. Her and I have been part of Team USA for 13 years now and she’s become not only a mentor but a friend to me and i’m going to miss seeing her at competitions. I know I plan to do the 2022 season—especially the Worlds. Paris is only three-years away,” they shrugged, like they were considering it, “I’ll be thirty-four when it comes around so it’s really gonna come down to how I’m feeling after 2022.”

“Well I hope to see you again in Paris, but if not then it was truly a pleasure watching you these years. You’ve been an inspiration to many watching back home in the States. Congratulations again on this win and we can’t wait to see you bring it in the relays. Good luck again tonight.”

“Thank you so so much. I appreciate it and much love to everyone back home—thank you for all the support, especially my mom and dad, my coach, and my friends in Fightertown who I know are probably losing their minds. I love you all and I couldn't have got this gold without each and every one of you. Thank you,” Y/n shakes their hand and blows a kiss to the camera before following the volunteer to locker rooms to change for the podium ceremony.

Just like in London, Y/n was nearly a mess on the podium when the gold medal was presented to them. Per covid regulations, the athlete had to place it around their own neck instead of how it was at previous games with someone else doing the honor. Still, it held everything to Y/n.

They were an Olympic champion.

Tears streaked their face when the national anthem played and when it concluded Y/n kissed the medal and waved to the crowd of spectators that included the media and athletes from other countries. The rest of Team USA’s track athletes were there too, cheering the loudest as some of them have been Y/n’s teammates for over a decade. After pictures with the other medalists Y/n was rushed to get ready for the relay that was to start in 20 minutes. At the Hard Deck it was an emotional scene watching the podium ceremony. Jake and Nat were embraced, looking on with glossy eyes while everyone beamed at the screen. Y/n’s parents were with them too. It was bittersweet.

20 minutes later they were in cheers once again when Team USA took the silver in the 4x100m relay. Y/n kick started it off like they did in London, but this time fell short to second place by a smudge. It still was a celebration with Y/n adding another silver medal to their personal Tokyo medal count. It was passed one in the morning in Tokyo when Y/n FaceTimed Jake after the podium ceremony. They were met with shouts of joy from everyone in proximity that it was hard to even make out the individual voices.

“You fucking did it!!”

“Congratulations, Lightning McQueen, you were amazing!”

“Holy shit, Olympic gold!”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Y/n. I wish I could hug you right now.”

The call was brief but wholesome with Y/n thanking the entire squad for their support and they loved watching their reaction to the race. Jake spoke on behalf of the others with the promise to celebrate the second Y/n returned to San Diego in three days. After goodbyes and a quick chat with their parents, Y/n ended the call to get much needed sleep for their final race the next day. The Hard Deck cleared out soon after with many calling it a day.

It was the same scene the next morning at 5:30 am to watch the final of the 4x400m relay. “It is the final day in these Olympic Games after a spectacular two weeks in Tokyo. Many firsts have been made. There are just a few events to get through tonight before closing ceremonies tomorrow evening. All eyes are now on the finals of the 4x400m relay. And boy is there a lineup tonight with the Americans looking to defend with a seventh-straight title.”

“It’s going to be an interesting finals tonight, Mark. Like you mentioned, the US have retained the title of Olympic champions in this event since the 1996 Games in Atlanta. They are unstoppable and this is the first time Y/n L/n is part of the group. They won the gold in London for the 4x100 and just last night took silver in the event. Four years ago in Rio they were set to be on both the 4x100 and 4x400, but after a tragic semi finals that ended with a torn ACL, L/n had to pull out of Games.”

On the screen the team was announced with all four athletes appearing from the side. Together they did a little dance for the cameras before going to the track. “I’m interested to see how L/n does tonight and if they can pull through. This event is truly a team effort and unlike last night, L/n is set to anchor the Americans in the final pass rather than starting. They just won the gold in the 400m last night in a stunning record breaking finish—I’m still in disbelief.”

The Hard Deck painted a familiar picture as the previous morning. The Daggers were on the edge of their seats when the race started and Penny stopped taking orders when the third pass began. The camera was split to show Y/n taking their spot on the track to await the baton. Then the screen went back to one when the American came up on the last turn. “Here comes the final pass of the bottom in the final leg of this 4x400 relay. Poland and Jamaica are not far behind, but the Americans have given Y/n L/n a lead—and there they go! Beautiful pass from teammate to teammate and Y/n L/n is off to hopefully bring the US their seventh consecutive gold.”

“C’mon, baby, let’s go!!” Jake yelled, the others echoing his cheers. At the bar patrons were clapping the surface.

“They’re gonna get it—look at the lead!”

“It’s not over yet.”

“Let’s go, Y/n, you’re almost there!” The athlete increased the distance between them and the polish on the stretch coming into the final turn. The cheers got louder and louder with many already celebrating when it was obvious the Polish were not gonna catch up. The announcers knew it too.

“Poland has overtaken Jamaica but it will not be enough for Olympic glory—Y/n L/n has increased the margin their teammates had given them and has no doubt secured them the gold! All there is left to do is cross the finish line and the Americans have done it again! L/n has finished the job and given Team USA their seventh straight gold medal in the 4x400m relay!!” The last line was in tune with Y/n crossing the finish line. A large smile plastered on their face as a cry of joy left them that the camera managed to capture. Their teammates met them in the middle with the four embracing in cheers.

The Hard Deck exploded again when Y/n crossed the finish line, matching their reaction as though they were the ones who just won the gold for their country. They couldn’t wait for Tuesday when Y/n came home and they could celebrate the big wins together. Jake was really excited especially after having a heart-to-heart with Y/n’s father. The ring was safely tucked away in his suitcase as a reminder of what he had planned for his Olympian.

The rest of the daggers, including Mav and Hondo ended up staying an extra hour after the podium ceremony to celebrate their friend. Many were still in disbelief, but filled with absolute joy. Who wouldn’t really? They had just witnessed their friend win their sixth medal in a single Olympics. Something uncommon for even athletes who qualify for multiple events.

But Y/n did it.

They left Tokyo with two bronze, two silver, and two gold. In four Olympics Y/n started from a single bronze in their debut to their first team gold in London, leaving with nothing in Rio to finally medaling in every event they raced in Tokyo. Their first individual gold after thirteen years of hard work and dedication to rise to the top since they sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium.

It was a golden end to an Olympic dream 25 years in the making.

Or so they thought…..

When the stars painted Paris on the night of August 11th, 2024, the final night of the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, Y/n L/n waved to the crowd in a bittersweet goodbye as they wore the Stars and Stripes one final time. It was hard to hear over the roar of spectators from all over the world. Not a single seat had been empty for the final race of Y/n L/n’s career. Athletes from other disciplines attended, some in tears by the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

“It is an emotional scene here tonight in the Stade de France as we say goodbye to Y/n L/n of the United States. There isn’t a dry eye in sight as spectators and athletes from around the globe watch the five-time Olympian take their final bow after winning the gold with the Americans in the 4x400m relay in their eighth consecutive title. In what could be described as the greatest Olympic run a track athlete has ever done, Y/n L/n has achieved the impossible in Paris with six gold medals in six events. Never has an Olympian taken the gold in the 100, 200, 400m, and all three team relays in a single Olympics, but Y/n L/n has made history. They are also the second Olympian and only American to win gold in the 100, 200, and 400m in a single Olympic Games.”

Y/n walked the track with a cameraman following them, hand that was not waving patting their chest where their heart laid. The hand now had a gold wedding band and Tokyo XXXII and Paris XXXIII added to the bicep tattoo. Y/n’s teammates that they just won the gold with had stood to the side, clapping with the crowd with American flags draped around their shoulder and tears cascading their cheeks.

Y/n finally made it to the section where the majority of Americans who had traveled from the States were seated in a sea of red, white, and blue. Y/e/c went straight to the front few rows and were immediately met with the sight of not only their parents beaming faces, but the ones of their closest friends. None of them were hiding their emotion. Phoenix was embraced by Rooster, the two wiping away at their faces as was Bob. Fanboy and Coyote were teary eyed while Payback just nodded with a bright grin, bringing his fingers up to whistle. Even Maverick, who was now retired from the Navy, was in attendance looking like a proud father.

And Jake? Jake was a mess.

His green eyes were pretty much bloodshot but there was love and admiration in his gaze. His own wedding band reflected under the stadium lights and he made the motion of catching the kiss Y/n blew to him before placing it on his heart. All he wanted to do was jump over the railing and hug his spouse, but unfortunately that would have to wait until after the podium ceremony.

The extinguishing of the Olympic torch at the closing ceremonies would signal the start of Y/n’s retirement from the world of athletics. It would close one chapter, but the other was still in progress. There was still time for them to be the best of the best in terms of naval aviators. They were not even halfway into their Naval career.

And they were totally up for the challenge, because nothing is impossible when going for the gold.

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