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

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hereallalong · 3 months

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Continental Baths

#vintage men #vintage male #affectionate friends #affectionate men #gay vintage #continental baths #gay history

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multific · 7 months

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The Ink Under Your Skin

Vincent De Gramont x Reader

Summary: Vincent wonders why you never wear short dresses, he assumed you were covered in scars so he didn't ask. But then, one evening he realizes just how wrong his assumption was.

He watched as you entered his office wearing another long-sleeved shirt with long pants. The only skin you showed was your neck and your decolletage.

Even if he longed to see more of your skin, he knew better than to ask.

The truth was that he absolutely adored you. Being the one to finish many missions for and with him the two of you grew even closer after John Wick.

And now, Vincent noticed the small things about you.

One was that he had never seen more of your skin revealed.

He figured you might have scars due to your line of work.

But he was dying to know more to see more of you.

He knew your flirting was only a game, but he wasn't sure anymore.

"Here is the coin you asked for and the extra." you said as you placed a briefcase on his desk.

"Perfect. Merci." he said and you only nodded as he checked everything.

Everything was perfect, yet again.

"Do you have anything else for me? Or can I go home?"

"Go home, rest for a bit. I have an event coming up, you are invited. The event will be the opening of the new Continental."

"Oh, lovely, I shall go then. Will you text me the details?"

"I don't expect you to come as a member of my... ring. More as a date."

"Date?" now that caught you off guard but then you smiled and gave him a nod. "Alright, I'll make sure to wear something nice."

"And short." he said immediately and you looked at him in the eyes.

"Nice and short, you got it. Then, wear that black suit I like so much."

"I'll be sure to impress. The opening is tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

On your way out, you made sure to sway your hips just a little bit more.

Only to impress him.

And he was impressed.

---

The next morning you received a text saying Vincent would be there to pick you up at 5pm.

You knew how sharp he was, so you knew better than to waste time.

You picked out your favourite short dress and got into the bath.

You did your hair, make-up and finally, you were all done.

When your doorbell rang, you quickly gave yourself one last glance.

As soon as the door opened, Vincent's jaw hit the floor.

You looked stunning and now, he understood why you were always wearing long clothes.

You were covered in tattoos.

Almost every inch of your skin was covered by ink.

Various things were craved into your skin. Many resemble you as a person, your likings but Vincent also noticed a couple of achievements.

"Ready?" you asked as his eyes never stopped roaming your skin.

All he could do was simply nod.

On your way to the new hotel, you two sat at the back while his driver was focused on the road. You were looking out the window, looking at the people you passed when you suddenly felt his hand on your thigh. You looked at him but he wasn't looking at you. Instead, Vincent was focusing on his phone, so you let his hand stay near your knee.

All night, he kept staring at you, more than usual.

Normally you didn't care when people looked at you a certain way because of your tattoos.

But with Vincent, it did bother you.

You liked him.

Perhaps more than you should like a psycho like him.

But you weren't much better.

Working with him did rub off on you maybe in the wrong way.

But you liked working with him.

He was too charming for his own good.

And he definitely thought he was a lot more slik than he actually was.

He really thought he could be staring at you like that and you wouldn't notice.

But you did like to play dumb.

Men liked dumb women.

If you reveal to him that you knew about his attention all along, he would bail.

So, you played your part for as long as you could.

You stood out on the balcony, looking at New York when someone stepped beside you.

"Nice view."

"For me, New York is not that impressive."

"I wasn't talking about the city." Vincent said as his eyes roamed all over your body. "I never imagined you would have tattoos, let alone so many of them."

"Do you not like it?"

"I do." his reply was immediate, making all of your doubts fly out the window.

"I won't lie, I was a bit worried about your reaction."

"Why so?"

"People around us only have tattoos related to their work... I have my interests."

"Which is why I adore them even more." his hand moved to your forearm, letting his thumb run down the skin, he watched in adoration.

"I need to know Vincent." you spoke and looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. "I need to know if you are only interested in me so I would work for you."

"You already work for me. I don't need to seduce you in order to convince you to do things for me. I will say this, it is quite the opposite, I believed for a while that you were the one seducing me so that you could get more money perhaps. At least I know the money went to a good place." he said as his hand moved to your waist

"I'm getting a new one done next week." you smiled.

"Perfect." he whispered as he leaned down and his lips met yours in a short yet sweet kiss.

Who knew that the ink under your skin would be the breaking point for the two of you.

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont x you #vincent de gramont imagine #vincent de gramont imagines #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis x reader #marquis imagine #john wick x reader #x female reader #x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #the marquis x reader #the marquis imagine #the marquis imagines #the marquis #john wick marquis #john wick marquis x reader

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corvidaedream · 19 days

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top 5 facts about non-famous Bostonians from the 1770s? (general facts about the population or facts about specific historical people)

oooh hoo hoo! excellent question!!! ty!!!!!

these will not necessarily be in an order. also my sense of who is famous or not is heavily skewed.

this is me trying to figure out who counts:

as some followers may already be aware, in 1771, owner of a local ropewalk john gray successfully sued lendall pitts for damages incurred when they had a brawl downtown over the fact that pitts discovered that the woman he had been flirting with the night before had, in fact, been gray himself. pitts' defense was essentially a gay panic defense, and the jury sided with gray.

this is technically first recorded in the 1780s, but in the classical dictionary of the vulgar tongue, published in london, "gouging [someone's eyes] out" is noted to be something that tends to happen "at boston, in america". i have no actual stats to back this up, but apparently that's our reputation.

i've read notes from a man working under general washington at camp in cambridge where complaints about the behavior of continental soldiers from boston included spending too much time chatting with the enemy while on guard duty, using too much butter to cook, and bathing too close to the bridge where women could gather to watch them.

there's a young man named henry prentiss (or prentice) involved in the boston tea party who later got in trouble with the law because, as far as i can tell, harvard students kept stealing from his vegetable garden, so he started lacing it with laxatives to deter them.

most people in boston in the 1770s, statistically speaking, were under the age of 16

i have more but theres not so many fun facts in my head as there is just very involved gossip and i have no idea any longer whether something is common knowledge or if it's just something i and 20 other people bring up a lot

#sadies day job #this goes in there #also #cant keep johnny down 1771 edition #please keep asking me about weird bostonians i would love to say more if anyone is like 'hey who the fuck is (person mentioned)'#or whats the deal with elizabeth hunt palmer and why do you think she would have loved being on reality tv?

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fandomnerd9602 · 1 year

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Fate Intervenes

Akira x Wick!Reader

For @morbiusmarauder

The Osaka Continental was under siege. You and your father John Wick, in one of the rare instances, were in the same place at the same time. You were just hoping for a moment of peace with your father but of course, there's no peace with being a Wick.

You and John separated during the fight. You stayed with Akira and Shimazu. You shared little looks of concern with Akira as Shimazu hobbled along.

You exchanged fire with a couple more thugs from the High Table. Akira pulled along her father, "Father we must go"

Shimazu, a man who had been like family to you, clutched his side and shown red on his palm. Akira's eyes locked with yours, pleading.

"We'll get you out of here, sir" you promised as you began the trek down the back way of the Continental.

"Where did he go?" the blind assassin asks the three of you as he blocks the way.

"Caine" you huff, "Shimazu's wounded. Let us pass"

"I can't do that" Caine answers back, "do you know the price of family?"

"They threaten your daughter?" You ask. Akira looks to you and then to Caine in shock.

"Yes." Caine remarks, tapping his sword on the ground. "The one good thing in my life."

"Such is life" you huff. Shizamu takes a stand and readies his sword.

"Let the young ones pass" the older man begs his former friend. "I only speak as a father to another father"

"Please don't do this" Caine's mouth shows a deep frown, one that's bathed in regret as he readies his own sword.

"Sir" you approach Shizamu, "please we'll find another-"

"Protect your family...and mine" Shizamu looks to you, begging you to guide Akira to safety. A little more blood leaks from his wound.

"I am" you answer back before raising your side arm and shooting Caine in the neck. A small dart hits him a split second later.

"They can't hold that against your daughter, Caine." you smirk.

"Be seeing you" Caine smiles as he collapses to the asphalt.

'Be seeing you" you answer back as you grab ahold of Shizamu and limp past the knocked out Caine.

"You keep tranquilizer darts on you?" Akira looks at you concerned.

"Figured they send Caine after my Dad," you admit, "always be prepared for little to no collateral damage"

You load Shizamu into a jeep, Akira jumps in the passenger seat, "I owe you"

"You owe me nothing." you state as you speed out of the Continental. "Gotta get your father some place safe."

"Not that I am not grateful, young Wick" Shizamu winces from the pain, "but that was not exactly honorable."

"I don't think the Marquis de Gramont cares about honor, sir" you answer back as you hold up one of his goon's pins.

"High Table?" Akira readies her own gun

"Some french stooge trying to make a name for himself within the ranks of it." you retort.

"Your father will need your aid." Shizamu speaks up, "both of you" he gestures to you and Akira.

"What do you say, ma'am?" you smile at Akira, "truce?"

"Truce" she smiles back. A small smile made it's way across Shizamu's face.

You'd eventually get Shizamu to the medical attention that he needed. As for you and Akira, the two of you set out to locate Jonathan Wick. The Baba Yaga was going to need all the help he could get.

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lilithlinen · 26 days

Text

A Dance With Destiny II - John Wick x You

In the quiet corners of the club, you take a deep breath and gather your thoughts. Heading for the exit, you notice someone walking towards you, and Winston greets you. He sees the turmoil in your eyes and asks "Mrs. Y/L/N, may I assist you in any way? Are you alright?" You recognize the concern in his eyes and thank him for his help on previous occasions, "Thank you, Winston, but I think I should leave soon," you reply, trying to maintain your poise and composure. He nods with understanding, and you slip out, stepping into the cool night air. "Remember, Mrs. Y/L/N, if you ever need us, we're only a phone call away," Winston adds, as you turn the corner and disappear from sight.

As you stand outside, leaning against a nearby lamp post, your mind races. Leo's anger, John's departure, the inevitable confrontations looming in your future, all collide in a cacophony of emotions. The chilly air seems to cut you to the bone, but it's nothing compared to the chill settling in your heart.

You feel the sob slipping through the dam of your self control. You lean against the lamppost, tears streaming down your face as you pull yourself closer, trying to hold back the overwhelming sadness. What should happen next? Will you confess everything to Leo, explain your feelings for John, and risk losing both men? Or will you keep silent, hoping things will get better on their own somehow? How do you navigate these choppy waters?

Just as you're lost in thought, a dark sedan pulls up beside you. No license plate, tinted windows. Charon steps out, looking at you with genuine concern etched on his face. "Are you sure you want to be all alone right now, Mrs. Y/L/N?" He offers his handkerchief to wipe your tears, inspecting your current state carefully.

"This night has barely begun, and it brought you too much pain. I can call you a cab or maybe...? The Continental is at your service, Mrs. Y/L/N." With that statement, he holds open the door of the sedan, a sympathetic smile on his face.

You hesitantly take the handkerchief and wipe your tears, glancing at the waiting vehicle, then to Charon who stands with an offer of sanctuary. You consider how tired you are, emotionally and physically, and the safety the Continental provides. You ponder about the choice Charon just gave you, weighing your options heavily. Finally, you decide to trust him and accept his offer.

"Please, I could use a place to rest tonight, Charon." You hand back the handkerchief as you step into the car, feeling gratitude toward the man and the establishment he represents.

Charon nods, closing the door and taking his seat behind the wheel. The engine hums, and the car smoothly blends into the traffic, taking you back to the Continental — at least for tonight — in silence. In the dark expanse of New York's alleys, the lights of the Continental Hotel glow brightly, a beacon of comfort and safety amidst the darkness.

As the car approaches the Continental, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. It's a place of solace and danger, home and refuge, all rolled into one majestic building. Once inside, Charon guides you upstairs, handing you a keycard for your room.

"Should you need anything, please don't hesitate to ring for room service, Mrs. Y/L/N." He conveys warmth through his deep, rich tone, making you feel a small degree of comfort in the chaos, before closing the door gently behind you.

Stepping into the room, you flip on the light switch, illuminating a space designed for comfort and calmness. Deep red walls, a plush bed, dimmed lighting create an atmosphere of serenity. Your mind races as your thoughts drift from Leo, John, and the events unfolding. You collapse onto the soft bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering about the uncertain future ahead. Your heart thuds against your chest, carrying the weight of your choices and the consequences thereof. After taking a warm nice bath, the phone on the nightstand rings.

Your heart skips a beat as you pick up the phone, hopeful that it's John but filled with dread that it may be Leo. But it's neither; it's Winston, the Continental's manager. His smooth, soothing voice resonates through the receiver.

"Ms. Y/L/N, you mentioned needing me earlier. I hope things did not go south with your husband, Leonardo D'Antonio." His voice drips with concern.

"My husband knows, Winston..." Your voice cracks slightly, revealing your emotional turmoil.

"Well, my dear, that changes our plans somewhat. Stay safe and sound. I'll take care of whatever troubles come your way." He assures you with a hint of confidence.

"Thank you, Winston. It means a lot." You say, relieved by his words.

"You are like family here, dear. Remember that." And with a gentle click, the line disconnects.

Relieved by Winston's support, you lay back down, letting the bed envelop you in its warmth. Despite your exhaustion, sleep refuses to come easy.

During the long, sleepless night, you hear a subtle knock on the door. You rise slowly, moving towards it, and peer through the peephole. Standing outside is none other than John Wick, his familiar features visible despite the poor lighting. With a deep breath, you unlock the door and open it slowly. John steps inside, shutting the door behind him quietly. He looks at you tenderly, reminding you of why you were drawn to him in the first place.

"Y/N, I heard about your husband finding out," he begins softly, "I never wanted this for you."

You nod, still unable to articulate your emotions coherently. You're in love with John Wick, the man who killed your husband's cousin...Santino D'Antonio. Without another word, John moves closer, wrapping his arms around you, offering solidarity and comfort. For a brief moment, the world fades away, all that matters is the weight of his presence.

John, sensing your fragility, whispers reassurances into your ear. "Winston has made arrangements. From tomorrow morning, you'll be safely transported out of the city. You and I will find a way through this, together, Y/N. Trust me."

His promise is a balm to your troubled soul. Yet as you listen to the rhythmic patter of rain outside the window, you realize the enormity of the situation. You might be leaving everything you know behind for a chance at happiness with John.

But for now, you find solace in the fact that he's here, and Winston's support brings some semblance of stability. Holding tight to each other, you exhale deeply, the night's devastation slowly seeping away, replaced by fleeting peace. Despite the impending challenges, you hold onto the hope that John Wick, your strength and comfort in moments like these, will lead you through this storm.

As dawn begins to break, casting shadows dancing playfully across the floor, you close your eyes and lean against John, finally surrendering to a fitful sleep, held securely in John's arms.

The following day, the sun streams in, casting gentle rays over the room's crimson hues. John stirs, opening his eyes, noticing the change in light. He rises quietly, preparing to order breakfast for both of you. As the food arrives, a heavy meal befitting their shared past and present.

"We have a decision to make, Y/N," He begins, weighing each word carefully. "After what happened last night, you're not entirely safe here. My enemies are likely seeking retribution, and while Winston has helped, this can't be forever."

Pushing away thoughts of the unpredictable future, you share a meal with John, knowing that you're bound by more than just circumstance. Together, you contemplate options - leaving the city, setting aside personal vendettas, forging a new life. Through it all, one thing remains clear - John Wick would do anything to protect you. Whether it's facing down the High Table or planning an escape, he stands by your side, and that's enough to hope for brighter days ahead. He looks so hot right now, you think to yourself even though you know it's not a suitable time or place for such thoughts but you can't help yourself. "John?" You say softly, touching his arm.

You lean in closer, meeting his dark gaze, a sense of vulnerability radiating from within you. "Whatever happens, I need you to promise me something." His expression hardens, his guard up, but his eyes are soft and understanding.

"Anything, Y/N," John replies, his voice low yet firm.

You swallow hard. "Promise me that... no matter where we end up or who comes after us, you won't leave my side."

John studies you for a moment. Finally, he leans in, whispering in your ear, "I promise, Y/N. Even if Hell itself hunts us down, I won't leave you."

His touch and words evoke a peculiar mix of fear and desire, sparking something fierce within you. You respond by pulling him closer, pressing your lips gently against his. The kiss starts off slow and tender, becoming more passionate, igniting a flame of passion between the two of you. The future's uncertain, yet in this moment, nothing else seems to matter besides this connection.

As the kiss intensifies, you feel John's hand caressing your cheek, his calloused fingers sending shivers down your spine. Feeling emboldened, you reach for him, running your own hands down his muscular form, appreciating the hard lines and wiry strength beneath his shirt. The intensity between you builds rapidly, fueled by both lust and the raw emotion of your situation.

Pulling apart from the kiss, you gaze into each other's eyes, desire now evident in their depths. You lead him towards the bed, gently pushing him down onto the sheets. Stripping off his clothes, revealing the lean muscle underneath, scarred from numerous battles but still alluring. Taking off your clothes yourself, you step out of it, leaving you clothed in only lingerie, accentuating curves that catch John's eye.

Moving onto the bed, you trail kisses down his chest, enjoying the saltiness of his skin mixed with the scent of gunpowder and sweat - markers of his dangerous life. Each nuzzle, each kiss, ignites his senses further, causing him to arch beneath you. He reaches for your hair, threading his fingers through your hair.

Brushing your lips against his abdomen, you proceed lower, pausing briefly above his shorts. Teasing him, you pull down the fabric, revealing his erection standing proudly, hard and ready. You look up at him, a smile playing over your lips as you reel him in, taking him into your mouth ever so lightly. John lets out a low groan, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

Inhaling deeply, you relish the taste of him, allowing pleasures, both physical and psychological, to consume you both. The sensation becomes mutual, reciprocated in his throbbing response. You move up again, spreading your legs wide, straddling him boldly. He doesn't miss the sight - you are wearing a satin panties that barely cover your wetness, teasing him with what lies beneath.

Grinding against him, you moan softly, feeling his erection pressed firmly against your core. His grip around your waist tightens, a silent testament to his control. Leaning down, you whisper against his ear, "I want you inside me, John."

His breathing quickens, matching yours. With determination, he slides one hand between your legs, parting the satin barrier between you both. Gazing into his eyes, you watch as he positions himself, pausing mere inches away from your entrance. Your body quivers with anticipation.

Slowly, he slips inside you, filling you completely. You gasp softly at the intrusion, feeling every inch of him as he stretches you deliciously. He holds still for a moment, drinking in your reaction, his gaze locked with yours. Then, he starts moving, each thrust bringing you closer to climax.

Every movement is measured, creating a rhythmic dance of possession and surrender. Each thrust fuels your ardor, building anticipation for the inevitable release. Sweat glistens on his forehead, mingling with his stubble as he pounds into you forcefully.

Breathlessly, you urge him on, "Harder, John. Please, don't hold back!"

Responding to your plea, he increases speed, helping you spiral into bliss. Closing your eyes, you cry out as you reach your climax, pleasure washing over you. Your muscles tense, clinging to him, your pleasure echoing throughout the room. In that moment of ecstasy, nothing else exists besides you two.

When the waves subside, John leans forward, kissing your neck gently, his heartbeat syncing with yours. He continues his pace, matching your slowed labored breathing, prolonging the euphoria. You wrap your arms around him, touching his face and stroking his beard, savoring the quiet calm post-coitus.

Drawing back slightly, he whispers into your ear, "I promise I won't leave your side. No matter what happens, you'll be protected."

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, contentment flooding you. Although danger awaits, for this moment, it feels like the whole world seems to pause, allowing you both a reprieve from the chaos beyond the room's walls. Locked in each other's embrace, you succumb to tiredness. You close your eyes, allowing sleep to take hold.

About an hour later, there's a loud banging on the door. "OPEN UP, Y/N. I KNOW WICK IS WITH YOU!" It's Leonardo, and he is pissed.

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