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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Welcome To Backwater (spicyhoney standalone)

Summary: Stretch isn't running away, not really.

He took the bus.

Only to end up in a little town in the middle of nowhere, meeting unusual people, dealing with unexpected happenings, what the hell is going on in this place?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Midwest Gothic

~~*~~

Read Chapter One on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch honestly wasn’t sure what state he was in anymore. Not philosophically, but literally, as in United States of etcetera. He’d drowsed off with his skull leaning against the cool glass of the bus window somewhere around three am, the drone of the wheels on asphalt lulling him and the darkness outside broken only by the brief, glaring flash of the occasional car passing by.

When he woke again the sun was high in the sky and the view outside was a blur of endless green. Fields of it as far as the eye could see, corn, maybe, he wasn’t up on all the traditional crops of the Aboveground or at least not enough to know them by sight.

His legs were cramped from being curled up on the seat next to him all night and Stretch shifted with a grimace to put his sneakers back on the floor. Didn’t exactly uncramp him, he was too tall for that, but it did change the angle so, hey, at least a small favor.

The rest of the bus was more empty than not, the other passengers mostly sitting on their own, sleeping or reading or playing on their phones. None of them gave him even a passing glance and that was fine by him. Probably got all their stares in last night when they first got on the bus. There’d been plenty of side-eyes and outright stares as Stretch made his way down the aisle to an empty seat. No surprise there, Monsters had been on the surface for a couple of years now, but it wasn’t like there was enough of them to make a sighting anything less than exotic for Humans. He was more grateful that no one tried to talk to him, eager to make a Monster Friend like they were a fucking Pokémon to add to their collection.

He’d met plenty of Humans like that over the years; put them off politely and they only tried harder, put them off rudely and they got loudly pissed. Couldn’t win that game and eventually Stretch got tired of trying.

He let his head fall back on the padded headrest with a sigh, closing his sockets. Not much point in thinking about that right now, that was the sort of shit that landed him on this bus.

His grungy backpack was on the floor, overstuffed to the point of the zipper straining and the sleeve of a spare hoodie trailing out of the side like an extra arm. Stretch managed to contort himself enough to reach down and dig his headphones out of the side pocket, relieved to find them charged for once. He poked the earbuds into his audial canals, heh, earbuds with no ears, it sounded like the start of a bad joke, and turned on a playlist. Soothing eighties, that seemed to fit in with the scenery outside. Or maybe not; from the occasional run-down barn the bus sped past, their peeling paint still advertising Mail Pouch chewing tobacco, this place didn’t seem to have crawled out of the sixties yet.

He was barely through the first song when the sorrowful refrain about the boys of summer was cut off by his phone letting out a persistent buzz. His brother’s picture popped up on the lock screen and it was probably his imagination making that sweet, smiling face look so judgmental.

Probably.

His thumb hesitated over the answer button before decisively settling on decline and he’d barely settled back into his seat with the melodious voice of Don Henley when it started up again. He let it go this time, every short burst of buzzing echoing through his skull until it stopped. It didn’t ring again.

By then the song had changed to ‘No One Is To Blame’, Stretch went ahead and skipped it. He didn’t really need to chew on any irony right now, it would kill his appetite for breakfast.

~~*~~

It was a few more hours before the bus pulled off for a pit stop and by then, Stretch was ready to start chewing on his chair arm. Might’ve if he thought the seats had been cleaned anytime in the past decade. He didn’t have a stomach, exactly, but they still needed to eat to replenish their magic and the hollow gnawing of his hunger was making him lightheaded.

Come to think about it, he wasn’t even sure when he’d last eaten. Sometime before yesterday morning, maybe even the night before when he’d sat picking at the meal his brother spent so much time making, trying not to see the worry in those starry-eye lights, silently hoping Blue didn’t say anything past ‘good night’. Shouldn’t have wasted the wish, not like they ever came true, anyway. The stars he’d wanted so much to see lived up to the ‘twinkle twinkle’ advertisement, the ‘wish upon a star’ part, not so much.

When he’d stuffed his backpack before heading off to the station, he hadn’t thought far enough ahead to even grab a granola bar or a bag of chisps. All he’d been thinking about was getting it done, getting out, down to the station to hop the first bus going anywhere.

That bus rolled to a stop with a loud hiss of compressed air, the bored-looking driver yanking the door lever open. Stretch let all the Humans get off the bus first, shuffling their sleepy, dead-eyed way down the aisle as they groaned and stretched, many of them already reaching for cigarettes. The last thing he needed was a rough elbow from some impatient jackass who couldn’t wait another minute to load up on gas station chili dogs for the trip. He waited until the last Human was almost off before making his own way down, the laces of his untied sneakers trailing behind him as he shuffled his way out.

After hours in the air conditioning, the humid air was almost stifling, the smell of gasoline thick along with the smog of exhaust.

The gas station was about as unimpressive as the barns they’d passed. No shiny neon signs here advertising regular and premium below a well-lit emblem of a Shell or a BP. Not even a bright red ‘Kum and Go’ to make adults snicker quietly above confused children’s heads. The ancient pumps looked as if their first service was to the Model T and every time the door opened it was heralded by the loud, rickety clang of a cow bell.

He was itching for a cigarette of his own, but not on an empty stomach. Might be out of luck for chili dogs after all in a place like this, but there was still hope. According to the travel guide he’d filched from the bus depot back in Ebott, this was the exact sort of place that might carry such exotic foods as pasties or whoopie pies. The guide didn’t have any pictures, but Stretch was hungry enough to take a chance.

He made his way across broken asphalt studded with cigarette butts and old chewing gum, already hungrily ready for at least a Snickers bar. Maybe that hunger was why Stretch didn’t see the short guy coming out the door, completely oblivious to the clanging warning of the cowbell as he rammed right into him and nearly knocked the overflowing paper sack right out of his hands. Both of them grabbed for it automatically, fumbling to keep from dropping it and instead the brown paper tore from top to bottom and sent a shower of cans tumbling down to the sidewalk.

“fuck!” Loudly said in two voices, very nearly in unison. Stretch was already on his hands and knees collecting silver cans with ‘Coors’ scrawled across their condensation-dewed sides. The shorter guy took a minute longer, bracing himself on a cane as he slowly reached for a can that’d rolled over to an overflowing pedestal ashtray.

“man, i’m sorry,” Stretch panted, snatching up the last can that was attempting to set a world record escape to the gas pumps.

“ain’t your fault,” the short guy grunted as he struggled back to his feet. “bag was damp from the beers.”

Now that Stretch wasn’t trying to herd cans, he got a better look and what he saw froze him in his tracks. He couldn’t not stare, not when his beer bumper was another Monster and more than that, another skeleton. Which was bizarre, Stretch only knew two other skeleton Monsters aside from his own brother and this was absolutely not one of them. None of them had jagged, sharky teeth and blood-red eye lights, a nasty looking crack running narrowly through one socket.

Nor did they need a cane to help them along on beer runs and the other skeleton was struggling to gather the cans up in his arms. He tucked two into his jacket pockets and tried jimmying the others into the crook of his elbow, but one of them squirting free and launched into the air.

Stretch caught it before it got too accustomed to flight, barely managing not to drop the already dented can back on the pavement. “here, let me help,” Stretch said.

The other skeleton was already shaking his head, reaching for the can, “nah, i live right around the corner, i’ll stack ‘em by the curb and make another trip.”

Yeah, because half the people from the bus wouldn’t wander out of the station and take advantage of the offering of free beer, that wasn’t gonna work. “at least let me get another bag from the clerk.”

The skeleton snorted aloud, “mitch don’t hand out bags, brought that one myself from my store.” He hesitated and added, reluctantly, “but if you really wanna give me a hand, the two of us can carry ‘em pretty easy.”

The bus was only on a fifteen-minute stop, gas, grub, and go. Anyone not in their seat got left behind according to his ticket stub, stated boldly in oversized text, and there probably wasn’t another bus station where he could catch a ride for fifty miles.

Stretch gave the street they were on a glance. They were in the middle of a shaggy, rundown sort of town, this gas station was probably the only one around. Barely he could see a plain, unlit sign on the building on the other corner that said starkly, ‘Groceries’. The local restaurant was probably called ‘Eats’, everything was fried up in the same bacon grease poured out from an old coffee can, even the pie. It was a screaming advertisement for the kind of Podunk town where everybody knew everyone, and outsiders were looked at with jaundiced suspicion.

And a Monster lived here.

Stretch took a couple more beers that were threatening to make another escape from the other skeleton’s arm and shrugged. “lead the way.”

It was slow going, not only because Stretch’s legs were about as long as the other guy was tall, but the other skeleton had a pretty bad limp, grunting with each step he took. Stretch hoped guiltily he hadn’t made anything worse by nearly knocking him on his ass, but if he had, the guy didn’t complain.

True to his word, they didn’t have far to go. The skeleton led the way towards that grocery sign, unlocking the door with a heavy, old-fashioned key that looked like it would be more at home in a castle rather than a grocery store in midwestern Cornsville. He pulled the door open enough for Stretch to grab it, another cowbell jangling overhead like an epidemic, and he held it open while both of them shuffled inside into a renewed rush of blissful air conditioning.

The grocery store didn’t exactly live up to its name. Maybe it was more a grocery shop or even ‘market’ with no ‘super’ tacked in front. The groceries consisted pretty much of a few rows of tall racks and a couple coolers, the shelves lined with cans, toilet paper, and other random dry goods. There was a wide counter by the door with a register sitting on it that’d probably been there for a hundred years and an incongruous credit card scanner nestled against its side.

The skeleton dropped his beers on the counter with a clatter of aluminum. He hopped up on a tall stool and popped open the cash drawer, shoving a couple bills into it as he waved a hand at the scarred wood of the bare countertop. “you c’n set the beers here. help yourself ta one.”

Beer wasn’t exactly what he’d been thinking about for breakfast but Stretch popped the tab anyway and took a long drink, unable to help a grimace at the bitter taste. The other skeleton let out a chuckle that deteriorated into a phlegmy cough, grabbing his own can and gulping down half of it in one swig.

Stretch looked around the shop, at the cans of beans and pickle jars with a fine layer of dust, out the front window where the view of the town was obscured by a couple years’ worth of blurry fingerprints. “you know any place i can get a room around here?”

The skeleton raised both brow bones. He finished off his beer and let out a mellow belch as he popped the tab on another. “planning on hanging around for a while?”

“maybe,” Stretch said, then shrugged. “probably. if i can find a job.”

The other skeleton considered that. His phalanges were sharp at the tips, chipping new little pits into the countertop as he drummed his fingers on it. He came to some sort of conclusion, his toothy grin widening, “tell ya what, i might be able to help ya out with both. you mind the store in the mornings,” he patted the countertop and ran his fingers lovingly over the ancient register, “and ya can stay in the spare room over the shop. ain’t much, but there’s a bed an’ a window. might be enough for a while.”

It sounded like a pretty good deal. A little too good and Stretch squinted suspiciously. “why?”

That grin soured. “let’s say ya got a trustworthy face. looks a lot more like mine than anyone else around these parts, too.”

That made Stretch wince a little, confirming what he already expected. They were the only Monsters in town and from the unkempt look of the store, the locals weren’t that keen about having them around. Be stupid to stay in a place where he knew he wasn’t wanted, even stupider than letting the bus go on without him.

In his pocket his phone buzzed loudly, making him jump. It buzzed once, twice, then Stretch reached in and pressed the silence button. Then he held out a hand to the other skeleton. “deal.”

To his surprise, the skeleton gave his hand a long look, studying it. Nothing to see but plain bone, his own fingertips blunted, and with a yellowish nicotine stain between the first and second knuckles. Stretch almost pulled it awkwardly back but before he could, the skeleton reached out and took it, shaking it almost painfully hard. “deal. guess now that i’m your boss, you’ll need my name. you can call me red.”

“stretch.”

The other skeleton, Red, laughed loudly and slapped his good knee, “yeah, that suits ya.” He hopped off the stool and limped around the countertop. “c’mon upstairs, there’s a shower, too. might want to put it to good use. welcome to backwater, kid, hope you stay a while.”

~~*~~

Red’s dour description of the room wasn’t quite accurate. For one, the room was larger than Stretch pictured, nearly the size of the shop beneath it. There was a bed, yeah, but also a card table and a couple chairs. In one corner there was a television so ancient there was a set of elderly rabbit ear antenna on top. But the whole setup was less dusty than the store downstairs, like maybe the previous tenant wasn’t that long gone.

Stretch didn’t ask. Sometimes not knowing made it easier to sleep at night.

The promised shower was in a bathroom only slighter larger than a closet, the hot water heater groaning audibly and pouring out a grudging trickle through the showerhead that spent alternating minutes as lava hot and icy cold. Despite that, it felt good to rinse away the layer of road dust he’d accumulated, soaping up with a leftover sliver of soap he found.

When he got out of the shower, a threadbare towel around his pelvis offering limited protection to his modesty, there was a steaming bowl on the table. Filled with a thick stew, blobs of meat floating in a greasy gravy, and a hunk of bread with it, along with another beer.

Stretch wolfed it all down hungrily, easing the last of his physical discomforts, then flopped down on the narrow bed. Red had told him to take the day to settle in and he could start work tomorrow. That sounded like advice well worth taking. He had a place, he had a job, and he had his phone on silent. He could text his bro tomorrow.

Yeah.

He turned on the television, but no matter how he moved the antenna, the only show that came in was static. He switched it back off, contemplated Netflix on his phone, and then decided that sleep was probably the number one choice for entertainment today.

The mattress was thin, the springs threatening to poke through the worn layers of cushion, but right now it might as well be stuffed with angel wings. Stretch closed his sockets and let sleep claim him.

~~*~~

Stretch wasn’t sure of the time when he woke, the former sunshine streaming in turned to a darkness deeper than he’d seen since they came out from under the mountain. No hint of bitter moonlight crept in through the curtainless window.

He leaned up on an elbow and tried to kick the tangled blanket around his legs loose, his sleep-tainted thoughts slow in coming back online.

When his mind finally booted up, Stretch flopped back on the sagging mattress with a groan. He was in the little town of Backwater, that was right, in the room above Red’s shop. An unfamiliar place, that was all, the only ghosts around here were his own memories, the only sound his own breathing. He wondered sleepily what had woken him, giving the picture window that took up half of the side wall a glance, and went utterly still.

Eyes. A deep, unrelenting gleam of crimson coals staring in at him from the other side of the glass. Rus couldn’t move, terror welling up thick and rancid, a primordial fear rising into his throat from his soul, shivering its way like a sin down his spine.

That crimson gaze flickered in a blink and Stretch let out a hoarse cry, his paralysis broken enough for him to scramble back, heels kicking at the covers as he cowered against the wall, waiting for the crash of breaking glass. Long minutes of nothing ticked by, his panic slowly fading, and when Stretch opened his sockets again, there was nothing outside the window but blackness, not so much as the yellowish aura of a streetlamp peeking in.

“fuck.” Stretch rubbed his forearm over his sockets, blinking hard, and looked again. Nothing, exactly as it should be outside a second-story window. He sank back against the mattress, swallowing down the hysterical little laugh that tried to bubble its way out.

“jus’ a dream,” he mumbled aloud and hearing his own voice was steadying. A dream, yeah, an eerie little hallucination brought on by too much beer and too little food, all wrapped up in this strange place. Stretch dragged the thin blanket back over him and rolled to his side, defiantly giving the window his back as he settled in to sleep. Tomorrow was gonna be a busy day and he was gonna need all the rest he could get.

He fell easily back into a weary, dreamless sleep and never noticed that crimson stare returning, gazing through the glass like deep red lamplight cutting through the darkness.

-tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #underswap sans #welcome to backwater

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imaginesbymk · 4 years ago

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“Disciples.”

Dracula One Shot

Summary: Following the mysterious death of their brother Jonathan Harker, y/n travels to Transylvania to drive the stake into Dracula’s heart once and for all, ignoring how it’s easier said than done, and the monster himself has been expecting them for years.

Pairing: Count Dracula x Harker!sister!Reader

Tags: mentions of death, blood, violence, weapons + hallucinations

Author’s Note: imma be honest and say the first two eps of dracula (bcc/2020 netflix original) was good, however we do not speak of the the third episode because it was........ something else. in my opinion, at least. one shots are not open as this is a 700 follower milestone special! this was rushed because i do not know how to write gothic fantasy battles lol [milestone masterlist]

“JONATHAN Harker was my brother, and I will forever regret letting him ride off in the carriage that took him to the castle. His last words were, ‘Believe it or not, y/n, I’ll go. But prepare some bread when I return.’ If he were to. I was disoriented. Weeks after his fiancee Mina refused to come visit me because she mourned too much and she couldn’t bare to see how I was holding up. Mina is so frightened that I would share the same fate. I spent the long day of picking out locks for my doors and windows. I read more books and drank more tea to calm my nerves, but as I said, I was disoriented.

The date was marked as St. Valentine’s Day, the day I arranged a carriage to Transylvania... to come here, and drive a stake into your rotten heart.” I was wise enough to not eat the food prepared in front of me at the long dining table, not even a sip of the red wine he possibly tarnished with something to make me black out.

Instead, I watch him grin at me from across the table that served as a border. “Beautiful introduction, y/n.”

I smile. “Thank you, Count.”

His smile was still there, but fading like sunsets to dark night. “You have not touched your food,” he points out.

It’s not like he was touching his, either. I simply tell him, “Not hungry.”

He looked down at his plate, then began using his giant cutting knife and fork to slice a piece of meat in his mouth. The flames engulfed in the small fireplace drew out as a guiding light that overpowered the dim torches and candles lit around every twenty or so meters of a room’s perimeter in his castle, and I could describe his look very easily.

The way I was told about him from countless stories, true or made up, Dracula was old, frail and unkempt, despite dressing in an old fashion vest and suit. When my brother went to him for a business land purchase from England, he must of seen and could of described him the same way. He looked young, maybe not too young, possibly middle aged. His jet black hair was fixed, only a couple of wrinkles from the corner of his eyes when he smiled. Count Dracula knew how to keep himself attractive, and he didn’t even require a mirror.

“There are rules when you enter my abode, Miss Harker.” He plopped his pointing finger down on his lap, the leg he hooked over the other as his dark eyes never in the slightest turned a lighter iris from the lights used by fire. “One of them being you are to be well fed. It’s a compliment when my guests eat the meals I prepare for them.”

“You don’t prepare them. In fact, I doubt your personal staff prepared them, either.” My scowl must of made him grin at me even more. “Do they even exist?”

“Oh, I cannot lie to you about that.” And like that, that was his answer, even though it wasn’t the right one for my question. “That’s quite all right if you’re not feeling hungry, Miss Harker. I believe it’s getting late,” Dracula says as soon as lightning struck outside the gigantic windows. “I don’t think I can let you head back to England in this kind of weather.”

“You’re telling me that I should stay the night?”

He nodded. “You can stay here as long as you need to, Miss Harker.”

“I don’t plan on slumbering in your decaying castle, Count. You and I both know why I’m here, I was bold enough to announce it.”

Dracula got up from the table and began to walk over to my side, running his hands along the surface. “I have been waiting for this moment for years.”

“For someone to burn you to ash?”

“For you.” He stops at my chair, not too close to reach me, but I felt more evil than I did as soon as I stepped foot inside. “I knew who you were when your brother made the decision of coming here. I knew who you were even though your brother mentioned you after I did, and he never once said your name.”

I shot out of my seat and stood in front of him, placing my hand on my holster. “So you’ve been expecting me?”

Dracula nods. “For... years. If you look in the mirror, you’ll see how red you’re turning. Either I’ve made you blush, or me just being one step ahead is making you even more enraged than the day you found out your brother mysteriously vanished.”

“You hate mirrors, Dracula.”

“Indeed.”

“And my brother didn’t mysteriously vanish. You killed him.” I began to walk away from him, approaching the rack of the stick that moves the firewood around. “And what else is there about you? You are so difficult, it’s hard to picture you as mysterious. Just.. difficult.”

I turn back around, and felt my heart sink to my gut. He was gone. The dining table stood as if it was never used, the lid that covered our courses swayed back and forth as if something zoomed past it to make it move. I was off my guard for a second and he took off on purpose. If he wasn’t the beast of the night I would of heard his shoes stomping against the ground when he was running from me. I would of been able to hear a gust of wind if he wore more loose garments. Oddly enough, he didn’t turn into a bat.

Now it was up to me to find him, alone.

I run out of the room and found myself lifting a torch off the wall, walking up the giant staircase made of stone. My question hung in the air, and he’ll never catch it. “Why are you expecting me?” I ask out loud, hoping he was somewhere, listening to me, or even watching me.

The only thing that came out as a response to my call was the storm outside, and the castle’s noises. It was indeed an old castle. No one lives in castles anymore as living homes evolved so much. Dracula slept in a coffin, and if I’m lucky, I can run out into the rain all the way home, and find myself sleeping on the streets.

I crept up slowly, feeling like I was being watched. I said louder, “Why are you expecting me, Count? You’re excited to finally meet your fate?”

His voice echoed from above. He stood on the ledge, almost as if he was preparing to jump twenty feet down to rough ground. “Because I knew you would come for me. Mr. Harker was your brother. Either the victim’s family mourns and fears and hates, you engaged in all three, and brought yourself here.”

Dracula smiled and hopped off the ledge, descending right on the tip of my head. I scream and dash to the upper levels.

“I call them disciples, Miss Harker!” he suddenly appeared in front of me like witchcraft. “The people who come here, and I talk for humans who existed many centuries back come here. I learn about their childhoods, I learn about their loved ones, who they wish to cherish for the rest of their lives, how they taste...”

My hand reaches my holster...

“If you drive the stake into my heart here and now, you won’t be able to find the room I kept your brother’s corpse in.”

“You’re lying,” I sneer. “You used my brother’s face as a mask, Mina told me.”

“How is Mina doing?” he asks sweetly.

“Go back to hell-” and I jerk my hand forward, gripping the stake as I aimed bullseye.

“Y/N!” I shook my head. His voice. His hair. His smile. It felt like home. I was wrapped in warmth from the house we both grew up in, not the archaic castle.

My brother Jonathan, untouched and healthy, stood in the place I once thought Dracula was in, the tip of the wooden stake just poking the layer of his dress shirt.

“Jonathan...” I breathed out.

The world stopped... or was it me? Was it my senses? I didn’t eat or drink anything he could of manipulated, at least, he could manipulate me without using any kind of medication or potion.

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t blink. It was a sense of sleep paralysis, but I wasn’t asleep. I blinked again, remembering the horror Mina described when the beast tore my brother’s face off of his like paper right in front of her.

I stared at the Devil himself dead in the eye, frozen stiff, helpless. Dracula lifted a hand and began tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It took you years to prepare yourself for me. It must of been exhausting, for me I take it as a decade of waiting and waiting for your arrival, and here you are, and I am having so much fun with you.”

Everything went dark. Then light.

Light?

My frail body was in the mocking care of his arms now. Who knew how gentle he was being when he was carrying me. When he searched for a bride, he would not be carrying the poor species who would be unlucky enough to ever be his bride. But I put the pieces together as he lays me down on the spot where the sun can hit on the balcony, where he could watch me as he shielded through the shade. of the stone wall that formed the entryway.

I felt the stiffness of my neck, specifically a stinging sensation on my skin, maybe even deeper. I was played out like a fool. A fool who lost Dracula’s game. I was too easy.

"The sun will love you so much, they burn you with love.” Dracula said in a stern voice.

“Please...” The sun gleamed from a cloud and a ray hit the layers of what was left of me, and I felt the change.

I closed my eyes.

“To rise and to shine, Miss Harker.”

#dracula one shot #dracula imagine #dracula x reader #dracula #dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #claes bang #reader insert #one shot #count dracula #count dracula x reader #count dracula imagine #count dracula one shot

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sonisis · 7 years ago

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The Rose Bride: Chapter 4

So like I had to stop doing chapter art, life is getting busy again but I don’t want to take a whole month to upload because I’m really invested in this story.

As always you can read here on FF!

The Rose Bride: Chapter 4

Amy had awoken that morning to the sounds of clanking metal coming from the outside. Finding herself on the ground she picked herself up and walked towards to window to find Bucky and the Green Bird sparing against one another with León judging the both of them. Seeing them both outside meant no one was guarding the door so she looked for a fresh pair of clothing located in a dresser and showed herself to the Bathroom and prepared herself a warm tub of water. The room was adorned with so many live roses in vases and victorian era wallpaper, since there was so many Roses she took a few flowers to scatter their petals in the bath water to make a nice refreshing soak. Amy felt emotionally drained, she needed something to perk her up and thankfully a nice hot relaxing bath was enough to ease her, but with the now added rose petals she felt like a princess. Well she was already being treated like a princess because she was being kept away in a guarded castle.

After the bath she changed into a similar outfit she wore the day before and made her way to the dining area. Arriving she found herself in a dark wooden room with a long oak dining table that seats 22, below it was an even longer red carpet with gold embroidery, at the end of the room was an empty fireplace and the whole place was being lit up by the natural light coming from outside the large gothic styled windows. It was odd, there was already a meal placed out on the dining table but no one was around. Amy had heard people walking around the Estate but it seems that everyone kept to themselves. She took a seat in front of her plate and began to eat her breakfast. Everything was calm, everything was peaceful, if it wasn't for the reality that Amy was being held here against her will this would've been a wonderful morning.

Sonic was keeping his balance on the X-Tornado, Tails was flying as fast but as carefully as possible towards their destination. Knuckles was taking a nap in the second seat, he decided to tag along since Tails was worried about any fights with any knights and knowing Knuckles' incredible strength it will definitely help the mission if that situation were to come.

"So Tails, how much longer till we reach Spagonia? I'm starting to get a little hungry" Sonic chuckled as he patted his stomach.

"Not much longer, I think we'll be there in about an hour more!"

"Alright" Sonic gave a thumbs up all while his stomach was roaring, the gang had been traveling since 3am and they hadn't made any pit stops to fill up or stop for breakfast so Sonic was getting really hungry. He decided that the best thing to do his to try and distract himself from his hunger so he decided to pester Knuckles next. "So Knux, did you and Rouge ever find anything?"

Knuckles opened one eye and looked up. "Believe it or not it was Rouge that found it this time. Apparently there's a cave called 'The cave of Roses' in Spagonia that could be linked to Amy's family but no one's sure. There's these huge sculptures made on the walls of the cave that symbolize a warrior of some sort, they're all holding different weapons but all of the figures are the same. Besides that there's no writings or hidden treasures inside the cave, but because the carvings are so amazing people take some harsh hikes up to see it. Besides that we didn't find anything else and the cave really wasn't all that important, but if we don't find Amy where we're headed then I guess we should check there next."

"Huh, sounds cool, should probably check it out some point though."

"We can see them after we save Amy, Sonic." Tails scolded him

"Yeah I know! But just saying it sounds interesting."

Little towards the end of Amy's meal her attention was caught by the sound of the dining room door opening. In walked in the Green bird knight with muddied shoes tracking mud all over the floor, she could hear a maid yelling behind him to remove his shoes along with the louds sounds sounds of a mop hitting a filled bucket.

"Sorry Maid Muriel! I will be quick in getting a snack!" The Green bird turned around in surprise to find Amy finishing up her meal. Before he could shine a charming smile, Amy 'hmpf' and turned her head.

She was still mad about not only her cake getting destroyed but being taken to her Family's estate against her will.

The male bird stared at her "Was breakfast not to your liking Rose?"

"You know I have a name? Have any of you guys bothered to ask?" Amy responded in a rude tone.

"Now that you mention it you've been here for 2 days now and I've never introduced myself to you, my name is Sparo the Suzume." He reached his hand to give a formal handshake.

Amy hesitantly goes to shake it. "I'm Amy, Amy Rose. So tell me, how come I can't leave the Estate grounds? I was able to go everywhere when I was younger and no one stopped me."

"That's because you're 16, the age you're ready to become a Rose Bride, before then it didn't matter what you did or where you went so long as you came back." Sparo started heading towards the kitchen.

His response was kind of annoying to Amy, she couldn't help but get a little snappy. "So you just let me run around but now because you need me you're keeping me here against my will!"

"Woah Woah, no we're not." Sparo turned back around to address Amy, he didn't want to seem like the bad guy here. "You're free to go as you please around the Estate, if you want to go past that you can just ask me to take you, all you need is to have a knight by your side to keep you safe."

Amy looked at him with a dumbfounded look, it's clear this guy wasn't very sharp in terms of ethics. "You know that's still creepy… right?"

Sparo faced the kitchen door. "Listen I don't make the rules Rose, there's a bunch of rules in a book somewhere, if you want go check the library for it it's on the second floor. I'd answer your questions but I'm hungry." Sparo pushed the door into the kitchen once again leaving Amy alone and annoyed.

As soon as the kitchen door stopped swinging Amy slammed her fist on top of the table"Gosh! That lousy! ARRRG!" Amy was annoyed and angered, these boys have done nothing but tell her what she is but leave her the moment they had to do something, was she really expected to marry one of these uncouth men? Heck it took them this long for only one of them to ask for her name, actually he didn't even ask for it he just introduced himself! "These guys I swear! Once Sonic finds me I'm going to have him take me far far FAR from this place!"

Amy looked down at her empty plate and began to think about Sonic. Oh she sure hoped he was coming to her rescue, she didn't think she could live one more moment near any of these guys! Since she had nothing else to do today and she needed more time to plan a different escape plan she thought about what Sparo had just told her. "'There's a bunch of rules in a book somewhere' huh? Maybe that Book has a loophole I can use, to the Library!" Alone Amy extended her pointer finger as if she was talking to someone, but in reality it was good she was alone because she felt like a complete dunce doing it.

Arriving in front of the library's door Amy found herself in a small room with Thick curtains covering the only window in the room to prevent the sun from damaging any sensitive pieces of literature, the place was crammed with Books. Books on the shelves against the wall, books on the shelves that stood on the floor, there was more books than rings in the special stage and Amy was mesmerized by it. As much as she enjoyed a good book her mission today was to find out as much as she could about the Knights and the Rose Bride, with dedication Amy ripped the blinds open to release some good natural light into the room and began to search through the large collection of books.

Book by book, shelf by shelf it was beginning to feel a bit tedious but Amy's determination didn't let her stop. 'Let's seeeeee...Moby Dick, nope…. Princess and the Pauper, I love this one but nope...The rare 5th epilogue to that romantic vampire story that ended centuries ago, ok Maybe I'll just take this one for when I go back to the room.' Amy was thinking to herself carefully looking at every book and carefully glancing through the pages for quick context of it's content. Finally she found a book with a golden rose painted on the side of the spine. "Yes this has to be it!" Amy quickly glanced in to find out it was actually a diary that belonged to her Grandmother, Amy was mostly looking for information on the knights but maybe she could learn more about being a Rose Bride from a former Rose Bride.

Amy was surprised to find out the Diary was dated as far back as her 8 year old Grandmother, her hand writing and grammar was horrible but that was expected of someone so young. In her diary she talked about her friends, her pets, the games she played that morning, all cute and interesting but Amy wanted to know about the Rose Bride. A few pages later she was getting around the passages when her Grandma was 10 years old, that's when the Rose Bride started popping up. All though it was just briefly mentioned, all her Grandma wrote down was that she had just found out the Rose Bride and that her Mother was going to tell her more about it. A few more pages past that She finally got back to it.

'Dear Diary,

My Mom told me something weird "When the 16th petal has fallen, only then has the Rose matured enough to become a Bride" I didn't quite understand it but I guess it's been passed along for a long time. Mom said that when I turn 16 I will have to choose a knight to become my champion and that she'll tell me more as I grow older to prepare me for that special day.

Yours Truly,

Lily Rose'

"Ok so there's that but is there anything else?" Amy flipped through more pages of her Grandmother's life, it was strange to her that as big of a deal being a "Rose Bride" was to her family and Knights, her Grandma didn't mention it a lot. After a few more pages she found the Rose Bride mentioned again on Grandma's 14th Birthday.

'Dear Diary,

I'm getting closer to becoming a Rose Bride, to be entirely honest I'm beginning to get worried. My Mom says it's no big deal but the whole thing my mom said about the 16 petals and becoming a bride, it's still confusing, I don't even know what boy I like right now! Maybe it'll get better once I grow a little older. One of the older knights did approach me though, he's nice but I feel like he's too old.

Yours Truly,

Lily Rose

"Not a big deal? Hmm…" Amy flipped through more pages and quickly found Rose Bride mentioned again and again, it was around this time of her Grandma's life she was getting more anxious about it, soon after every page had mentioned the Rose Bride at least once but always saying the same two things, the 16 petals proverb and choosing a knight. It was during these times Amy read about every knight that Approached her Grandmother and her feelings for them, the one that was too short, too scary, too mean, and so forth, it made Amy giggle a bit to see such a side of her Grandma that she never got to see. Getting closer to her Grandma's 16th birthday she started talking more and more about one Knight in particular, a Handsome Hedgehog by the name of 'Will', Her Grandma would spend pages just talking about it, it was clear to see she was in love and it came to no surprise to Amy to read that on her 16th Birthday she asked the knight to become his Bride. Amy 'Awwwed' so much, reading about 2 love birds and reading the happy ending they had, Amy almost forgot to keep on eye on the Rose Bride mentions but after that her Grandma didn't talk about it much, if not at all. For the rest of the Diary Grandma only talked about her love, her sorrows, and just her day to day life, she did mention the Rose brides a couple of times but only mentions that members of the family turned 16 so it was their time but after that not much else about it.

After reading about her late Grandmother's life Amy closed the book and carefully but it back. "Maybe it wasn't a huge deal to my Grandma because she already knew who she wanted to choose, yeah that's probably it, but I wish she talked about a way to get out of this." Amy sighed and continued her search for Rose and Knight books. Before she knew it the light in the Library grew dim as the day turned to dusk, before Amy was able to turn over for the day and try again she found a book with a small knight insignia on the side of it's spine and after a quick glance she saw she had found what she was originally looking for, titled: The knights code, and in that book contained the entire history of the 10 Spagonian Knights and the Rose Family.

#amy rose #sonamy #the rose bride #fan fiction #sth #my writting

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clonerightsagenda · 7 years ago

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This was last minute but I'm a grad student so I was mostly drafting from life anyway. You can tell I was losing steam by the end though. All the library details are from my uni library, although I have never seen any dead Union soldiers, or any other ghosts for that matter. The creepy grad cages are my favorite part of giving tours.

tuesjade prompt: school

The third floor of the library is so quiet every keystroke echoes. Last time you heard someone walking through, it was the security guard on their hourly late night round. You picked this spot for its isolation.

The door leading out into the central stacks creaks open, and you listen for the student's footsteps passing by. Instead, the curtain between your carrel and the stacks twitches back, and you squint out to see Jade waving at you from the other side of the grating. "I like your shower curtain."

"You would. School mascots are just anthro with a veneer of plausible deniability.”

You don't mention that the curtain is on your side of the door, which means she's pulled it backward (and tied it up with businesslike lashwork) with Space powers instead of with her hands. There's no one else in here, and the security cameras can't pick up that level of fine detail.

"Don't science students have their own library?" you ask. Wait shit, it sounds like you're trying to get rid of her. Which you're not, exactly, although if you wanted company you'd be doing research in your apartment. Still, when it comes to people it's safe to be rude to, even after all these years Jade Harley doesn't make your list.

If she takes offense, she doesn't say so. "They do, but a few of my theoretical readings have mentioned Foucault, and I think I've gone as long as I can pretending I know who that is."

"Yeah, you'll get random Foucault encounters in unexpected disciplines. If it's not him it's Derrida popping out of the tall grass of the lit review. Philosophers were never meant to escape."

"You would know." She glances at the shelves nearby. This section is materials so old they're still in Dewey instead of Library of Congress - another reason you preferred the spot. No one needs this stuff. "How many libraries do all your programs fit into?"

"A couple, but this is the best one." You've got a pretty good setup here, if you say so yourself. Books stacked up on the makeshift shelving unit, your own modem wired into the wall to make up for the library's spotty wifi, and a mini microwave tucked under your feet. Home away from home. "None of the others let you rent carrels."

"Is that what they're called? They look more like spooky library jail cells."

"Some undergrads passed through a few hours ago while I was typing and I heard one whisper, ‘I think there's a graduate student in there.’ They screamed and ran when I sneezed."

She giggles. "They thought you were a ghoooost."

"If anywhere on campus were haunted, this would be it." The third floor stacks are perpetually poorly lit. Thanks to later additions to a library building only Escher could love, the arched windows on the far wall open to nothing but brick. In Roxy's words, "it’s where you go to get some serious ass studying done or to share a hip flask with a Civil War ghost.”

"Actually, I asked Aradia, and she said it's clean. The chancellor's house, on the other hand, definitely registers as harboring some kind of otherworldly presence. We haven't determined whether it's the chancellor yet."

"Take a look at some of the desks and tell me this place isn't possessed by demonic energies." Graffiti springs up faster than the staff can afford to replace furniture, and when the wooden desks are too choked with pen doodles and carved Greek letters, people move to the walls. If they're not sharing their phone numbers, they're swapping insults with rival frats. You take anthropological interest in this detritus, although one time you'd tried to decipher a Sharpie scribble, made out "We fucked here ;)", and speedily left the seat.

"Rose says the building appeals to your Gothic sensibilities."

"If she compares me to Lord Byron, tell her those are fighting words."

Jade peers in, and you make a halfhearted effort to push the clutter of Monster cans and energy bar wrappers out of her line of sight. "How long have you been in there?"

You stretch your legs as far as they can go, which isn’t far. "I can still feel my feet, and if I have circulation that means it's been under ten hours."

She purses her lips. "Dirk..."

You gesture toward your open PDF files. Several are still waiting for you to review their footnotes. "This dissertation isn't going to write itself."

"It won't write itself if you're dead either."

"Overwork is neither Heroic nor Just."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm confident on a philosophical basis."

She shakes her head. "I know I'm up a little late too. I had a night class on campus, and then I had a bunch of grading to do… You know how I lose track of time when I'm working sometimes." When you'd all lived together, both of you would get lost in projects and miss meals, only noticing the time when someone showed up to drag you out of your room. Jade had started setting timers for herself. She recommended the habit, but you hated having a buzzer interrupt your thoughts. Things take the time they take.

"I've heard rumors about your grading." You may not have a vibrant social network, but you keep your ear to the ground on social media. There's a waiting list for section 4 of Physics 1000. If you weren't long past gen ed credit requirements, you'd take it yourself. "Everyone thinks you'll be a soft touch."

You couldn’t teach. It still takes effort for you to spit out “Good job” to a friend. Your brain, conditioned by years of self-criticism, jumps over congratulations to what’s next and what they could do better. If a three-year-old presented you with their fingerpainting, your first reaction would probably be to tell them to wash their hands. No one deserves to be subjected to that. Isn’t Dave living proof?

“They have to learn,” Jade says. She doesn’t love it when people can’t keep up either, but she, unlike you, has historically been able to slow down and let them catch up without beating the lesson into them. "I let anyone who wants come into office hours. We'll walk through the concepts together and then they can resubmit. It's not my fault if they don't want to try. But anyway, I don't make a habit of all-nighters.” There she goes, picking the thread of the conversation back up again. She’s always been good at that, no matter how much people try to dodge. “They're not good for you. So how about once I finish looking up whoever this very important French guy is, I take you home?"

"Isn't that out of your way?"

She snaps her fingers. "The teleportation express runs 24/7 and omnidirectionally."

"Shit, I should have asked you for a ride here. On the shuttle I got stuck between some guy dumping his date over the phone and an octogenarian professor who might've died while we were in traffic."

"Ask me any time. I'm glad I ran into you tonight though, and not just to rescue you from dying in the depths of Web of Science. Jane wanted me to pass on that your resolution for the graduate assembly got voted down."

"Another one for the garbage, huh?" You click out of the open PDFs and drag them into your 'To process' folder. As much as you’ll never admit it, your blood pressure drops along with the number of tabs open. "I've given them the opportunity to be relevant on this campus, but if they want to keep kissing the administration's ass, that's their business."

"It's hard to challenge the people giving you funding. I'm writing grant applications for the lab this semester, believe me, I know."

Money. That’s an aspect of civilization you hadn’t missed growing up in its waterlogged ruins. For an institution allegedly devoted to higher knowledge, this place is obsessed with it.

"Speaking of which,” Jade continues, “Jane also said if you try anything else the board might pass a new resolution to stop letting you submit resolutions."

You snap your laptop shut. "This is homophobia."

She snorts. "I won't be long, I just need to track down a selected works book. Then I'll come back and we can get out of here."

" I can't be held responsible for any losses to scholarship." You stand up and stretch. Something in your back pops, and your head swims. Ok, maybe you've been sitting here too long.

"I'll take the blame from the academy. Just get tidied up while you're waiting." She looks critically at your collection of Monster cans. "You can recycle those, you know."

By the time Jade gets back with a thick-spined book on philosophy, you’re out of your carrel and have brushed most of the crumbs off yourself. The recyclables have been scooped up and dumped into your backpack’s outer pocket. It’ll be a sticky mess later. “Are you ready to go?” she asks

“Sure.” It’s not even one, which makes this the earliest you’ve gotten home all week. You’re struck by an impulse to yawn and almost crack your jaw resisting it. For fuck’s sake, it’s only November. You’re not allowed to get tired until March at the earliest.

Everything flashes green, and before you have time to rub your eyes, you’re standing outside your front door. Part of you expects to walk through together, but you don’t all live under the same roof anymore. Growing older changes things, even for gods.

“You’re coming to the group dinner next weekend, right?” she asks.

You dig in your pocket for your key. There must be some sort of interdimensional portal in there, it’s fucking ridiculous. Roxy probably knows about eldritch creatures that eat housekeys, that’s got to be within the Void’s purview. “It’s at Jane’s place this time, right?”

“It was the last time I checked.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Then I’ll see you later. Have a good night!” She waves and vanishes before you have time to reply. So instead you turn around, stick the key in the lock, and step inside.

(Dirk would be one of those zombified PhD candidates who you can find obsessively scrolling through 50-year-old dissertations on microfilm at 3 am. He IS the library ghost. He doesn't attend any committee meetings because he's overscheduled but he does send proxies with detailed questions/comments/concerns for every agenda item. If they knew what he looked like, the other committee members would probably kill him on sight.)

#tuesjade #homestuck//#kat writes fic

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confessionsofacookie · 8 years ago

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For the anon who asked: Can u have a oneshot were The reader is helens sister meaning john is like a really protective bro and they go meet up with Antonio for something and he starts flirting with the reader cause he needs a girlfriend Honestly and johns like fuck off boi and right before Antonio leaves he gives the reader a kiss and his number

Author’s Note: For some reason this was difficult to write and i hope i delivered. However thank you for stressing me out because it makes me a better writer.

Warnings: Big bro John and pushy Santino?

SORRY I POSTED IT TO MY MAIN BLOG. SORRY, SORRY, SORRY!!!

Into the Dragon’s Den

“I’m coming with you whether you like it or not,” I stated.

John looked at me, a pained expression on his face “, I just lost your sister and you’re all I have left of her. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

I grasped his hands “, and you’re all I have left of her. I’m not letting you go in that dragon’s den without some support,” I argued.

His shoulders caved and slumped. I pulled him towards me and hugged his trembling form “, you’re retired Jonathon and they need to know that.”

I released him and looked in his dark almond eyes, they looked so weary.

“Come on, let’s go tell that bastard you’re not going,” I whispered.

John nodded, straightened and grabbed the car keys from the table.

We arrived at a hotel – Monte Carlo read the calligraphic writing above the entrance. The massive building seemed to loom over its surroundings. Its Gothic architecture and white stone walls seemed reminiscent of a time long gone by. Gargoyles were perched on every corner and pinnacle of the building, a silent menacing guardian.

We walked up the steps in single file. John had specifically told me earlier to stay behind him at all times in case of any emergency – by emergency he meant if someone tried to kill him. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous and nervous still seemed too small a word for what I felt. Tiny tremors wracked my bones and had my heart pumping a few beats above normal.

John walked up to the counter. A woman in a black and white uniform turned to him.

“Good afternoon sir, how may I be of assistance?” she greeted with a screwed-on smile. Her eyes slid to me as I stood beside John.

“A room for two perhaps?” she inquired.

“No,” John said politely “, tell Santino D’Antonio that John Wick is here to see him.”

The woman froze for a split second, the smile she wore faltering as her eyes widened a fraction. Politely she coughed to hide her reaction and picked up the phone.

Quietly she spoke into the phone “, a Mr. John Wick to see Signore D’Antonio.”

She paused listening, she glanced at John and smiled.

“Yes. Yes. Yes sir – right away.” She hung up the phone and turned to us, the same fake smile in place again.

“Mr. D’Antonio, will see you now Mr. Wick,” she informed “, if you would please follow me.”

She stepped from behind the counter and motioned John to accompany her.

“Ah, Mr. D’Antonio is only expecting you Mr. Wick,” said the woman as she spied me following.

“She stays,” replied John gruffly, the huskiness of his voice turning more to a gravelly sound.

The woman swallowed hard. She nodded her head in acceptance and continued onward. We arrived at an elaborately, brightly lit restaurant that was … empty.

A lone man sat in a table in the centre sipping wine and resting on the back of the chair. An air of boredom surrounded him.

The woman visibly stiffened as she approached the table with us in tow.

“Signore D’Antonio, your guest,” she announced.

“Mmm!” he mumbled through a sip of wine and motioned the woman away. She scuttled off quickly.

What kind of man was he to put such fear in people?

“Mr. Wick!” he greeted, his accent thick, slurring his words slightly “,please sit.”

“I’m not doing the job,” announced John “, I’m retired.”

He turned to face John, chartreuse eyes framed by sable brows locked on him “, i said to sit.”

Then those eyes slid to me and stayed there. Subtly John stepped to the side, blocking me from his view. A chair scraped on the tiled floors.

“You didn’t say you were bringing a guest John,” chided Santino “, how rude.”

He stepped around John and offered me a hand. My heart beat picked up. I took his outstretched hand, the skin was smooth and soft. He bowed slightly and brought my hand to his lips. I froze and gaped at this notorious mafia man kissing my hand. He stood still grasping my hand and smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

I pulled my hand away, cradling it to my chest.

John instantly stepped between us “, I’d appreciate if you leave her out of this. Our business doesn’t concern her.”

“Yes, yes,” he mumbled, head bent to the side to peer around John. Eyes scanning my black ballet flats, faded jeans, white shirt and trench coat.

He smiled brilliantly this time and approached me, oblivious to John “, come - sit.”

Stepping around John he linked our arms and ushered me to the seat beside his. Firmly but gently he pulled the coat from my shoulders and draped it over an unused chair. Like a proper gentleman he pulled out the chair, hesitantly i sat.

John looked to me, his eyes concerned and his mouth drawn a thin line. I smiled slightly in acknowledgement to his silent question – yes i was fine. I could tell he was immensely regretting his decision to bring me along.

John sat to the right of D’Antonio, anger radiating off of him. Santino seemed oblivious to the fact or he just didn’t care. He clapped loudly and a barrage of chefs bustled into the room pushing serving carts brimming with hot food. Quickly they plated the food and left in the same bustling fashion. A steaming plate of lobster sat before me.

“We have business to discuss,” said John, his full attention on D’Antonio who was propped on his elbows watching me like a smug cat.

Involuntarily my stomach rumbled loudly. I winced and shrunk in my seat. I shot John an apologetic look.

He waved him off “, bella is hungry. We’ll discuss our affairs after.”

“D’Antonio -,” John’s voice was cut off as Santino happily piled pieces of bread and other fancy bits onto my plate.

John looked furious “, she doesn’t eat that,” and pulled an odd shaped piece of food from the dish. In hushed tones they argued over what went on my plate. John being quicker grabbed the lobster and cracked it open. D’Antonio looked on with a dissatisfied pout.

“Um, Mr. D’Antonio…,” I began.

Both eyes swiveled to me.

“Please bella, call me Santino,” he interceded and shot me a Cheshire cat grin “, and your name bella.”

“y/n –“

“Such a beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” i held up a hand as he started to speak “, I’m not finished,” i said sternly.

His eyebrows rose “, John has something important he’d like to discuss with you. I seem to be a distraction so – thank you for the wonderful meal.

I stood and pushed back my seat.

Santino jumped up and gripped my wrist “, no – sit – eat,” he said tersely.

He turned to John, eyebrows knitted “, problem, Mr. Wick?”

“I regretfully decline your offer of a job.”

I tuned out of the conversation and focused on the plate of lovelies sitting before me. God it smelt good! I picked at the lobster and tried to pry it open. I knew John had cracked it for me but the shell didn’t seem to budge. i looked up, John and Santino were both focused on each other. Carefully I picked up the lobster and the cracking tool and pressed down hard on the tail.

It broke with a violent crack. “Sorry,” I winced.

Taking the tiny fork I dug out the white meat and ate it with an internal sigh of happiness. Suddenly Santino’s napkined hand shot out, gently it glided on the corner of my mouth.

I stared wide eyed at him “, um, thank you?”

“Keep your hands off of her,” warned John “, we’re finished here, let’s go.”

“Don’t interrupt a lady when she’s eating,” protested Santino.

Internally I sulked but, I stood. Goodbye lovely food. Santino stood as well, shooting John an irritated look. He slipped my coat from the adjoining chair and helped me put it on.

He reached into the inner pocket of his black jacket and pulled out a card “, contact me at anytime using this card.”

He kissed it before pushing it into my hand. Swiftly he pulled me to him pressing a kiss to my cheek, he smelt like cigars and spices. His slight stubble scraped my cheek lightly as he pulled back, Chartreuse eyes locked on mines.

John ripped us apart, shoving Santino backwards. He gripped my wrist firmly and towed me out of the room.

“Careful John, it’s because of her i cancelled the order,” he called after us “, ciao bella, until we meet again.”

“Dream of me!” I heard echo as the door to the restaurant swung close behind us.

“You tossed the card?” asked John.

“Yup,” I lied.

The card he gave me weighed heavily in the breast pocket of my trench coat. I exhaled, happy the order was cancelled and John was free, however, the dour handsome, green eyed face lingered in my mind.

I patted the pocket, i might end up calling after all.

Hope you enjoyed~

P.S. : apparently the photo set i made to go with the fic is too big or something... help?

#John Wick #john wick 2 #john wick chapter 2 #john wick two #santino d'antonio #santino d'antonio x reader #santino john wick #santino d'antonio john wick #santino d'antonio john wick x reader

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cookieoffortune · 8 years ago

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Into the Dragon’s Den (Santino D’Antonio x Reader) (John Wick Universe)