#Santino d'antonio

[thewhumpcaretaker]

John getting drunk Santino home (Santino tripped over his own feet)

Hiiiii :3 This really veered off of the prompt aaaaaa it's not exactly the same thing, but it is filled with DRAMA!

(Also, this picture is pure gold. I think it’s saved on my Pinterest in like three places and it makes me feel something every time I see it.)

🖤💙 Walking Home 💙🖤

TW: alcohol, arguing

It was a brilliantly clear night in the streets of Rome. The cobblestones were scattered with flecks of golden lamplight and the moon perched its yellow hemisphere low on the horizon, echoing the distant domes of cathedrals. But John Wick had rarely felt his heart sit so heavily in his chest.

The evening had started off well enough. It was the third day of a getaway to Rome, which John had requested in an effort to keep Santino from working himself to death, and which Santino had agreed to because he never missed an excuse to pamper his “little guard dog”. After sleeping in and spending the day exploring museums and old shops, they’d finally ended up in a gorgeous restaurant and bar that John would never have noticed if Santino hadn’t been familiar with the area. It was there that the waiter mistook them for a married couple. John turned the same color as the tomato passata and said he thought that was very sweet. That he could picture it.

Santino disagreed. “What, you want to settle down and get married? Be serious, John.”

“And you don’t?”

He scoffed. “Me? Married? I can’t imagine a worse life, honestly. Well, I might have to marry for an alliance one day, but - ”

“You’re telling me you don’t see a future for us?”

And from there, things…escalated.

John had stormed out and found himself walking, weaving through crooked streets without really seeing them, replaying the memories of their argument over and over in his head. He winced again, thinking of the look on Santino’s face at the idea of marriage. It stabbed him right in the heart every time, to think that growing old together disgusted Santino so much. But why should he be surprised? He was just a killer, and Santino was a prince.

He found his footsteps heading for the Continental, since he had no intention of returning to the D’Antonio estate that night. Clearly this was the end of things between them. Why did he let himself get so attached in the first place? He was on a narrow, residential street that slanted downwards sharply enough to give him sight of rooftops stretching away, and to see that he was completely alone. He stopped, fought with himself for half a moment…but if he was going to break down anywhere, it might as well be here. He slumped forward into his hands and just let himself cry.

It was then that he heard someone calling his name.

“John, che - che cazzo ci fai qui? Stronzo. Devi seguirmi. [John – what the – what the fuck are you doing here? You asshole. You must be following me.]”

He opened his eyes to see the small, lithe figure that had emerged from some side street, dark curls glowing in the lamplight. He bristled and tried to wipe at his face before Santino could see anything. “I did NOT – “ but he stopped short. Something didn’t seem right about the way Santino was moving. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am! Me and the pinot grigio made our own fun without you. We even invited the whiskey. What do…wait…are you okay?” Santino had reached him by this point and absently patted a hand against his cheek, feeling tears.

“Hey, stop it…” But John could smell the alcohol on his breath. Both anger and hurt had instantly drowned in concern.  “You’re drunk.”

“You’re crying. Don’t cry…” Santino was clingy in this state, his arms wrapping around John’s neck and his forehead butting into his chest. John didn’t know what to do with himself. The impulse was to hug him back but after the way they’d fought, he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Why do you care? I thought…” I thought we were broken up… “You know what, never mind. What are you doing out here? Where’s Ares?”

He pushed off of John’s chest again and stumbled a few steps. “I told her to leave me alone! Just…wanna go home…I think it was that way…” Home was not, in fact, that way.

John shuddered at the thought of the perils inherent in an important, highly recognizable man like Santino wandering unguarded through the streets, too drunk to defend himself. Guilt settled deep in his stomach. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that.” He fell into step with Santino, his eyes glued to him with concern and an arm hovering behind his back in case he lost balance. “The Continental is near here. We’ll go there, get a car, find Ares. Okay?”

Santino waved a hand dismissively but he couldn’t carry the gesture at all right now. “Don’t…don’t hover! I can walk.” His shoe hit an odd cobblestone and at that steep angle, it sent him reeling forward. John caught him around the waist before he could go down. He waited to be pushed away but Santino just leaned against him, and this time John couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around him. He felt so damn confused, but at least he’d rather be uncertain they were broken up than certain of it.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Santino let his weight fall against him even harder, pushing him back against a lamppost, and slurred, “Non posso essere quello che vuoi, John. Non sono... semplice. Pensi che potrei essere un marito? Guardami. Un litigio e... [I can’t be wha- you want, John. I’m not…simple. You think I could be a husband? Look at me. One fight and…]” He waved an arm across his dishevelment.

John opened his mouth to insist that he'd be a beautiful husband, even like this, but he still wasn’t done. “Vuoi che sia gentile e normale e non lo sono, ok? Sono un mostro, John. Non voglio sposarmi e vivere in qualche piccolo sobborgo a cuocere biscotti. Voglio metterti in mostra davanti alla Tavola Alta e poi sputargli in faccia. Sputare... sputare proiettili in faccia. Voglio scoparti finché... finché non sarò morto e ti amerò oltre la tomba. [You want me to be gentle and normal and I’m not, okay? I am a freak, John. I don’t want to get married and live in some little suburb baking cookies. I want to show you off in front of the High Table and then spit in their faces. Spit…spit bullets in their faces. I want to fuck you until…until I’m dead and love you beyond the grave.]”

John exhaled helplessly, beyond the powers of speech. He tipped his head back for a moment, eyes fixed on the vast chasm between the stars in a way that made him feel like he was falling upward for infinity. His hands were curled around Santino’s arm almost painfully, twisting the fabric. As soon as he found his tongue again, “È quello che voglio. Non mi interessa un pezzo di carta. E non mi interessa dove viviamo o se facciamo parte della Tavola. Non mi interessa nemmeno se avremo mai pace. Voglio TE. [That’s what I want. I don’t care about a piece of paper. And I don’t care where we live or whether we’re a part of the Table. I don’t even care if we ever have peace. I want YOU.]”

“Allora... di che cazzo stiamo discutendo? [Then…what the fuck are we arguing about?]”

John wasn’t sure which one of them started laughing first, but it wound up with lips and teeth pressed together, and Santino tugging hard on his lapels. And it ended with their gazes locked together, two stupidly sweet smiles matching the big “D” of the half moon.

He pulled Santino’s arm over his shoulder and started walking. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

[kavalyera]

John Wick characters and children..

[mrssimply]

The Burning of Rome : Ashes

Hello folks,

So, after... Two years and a half, I finally finished the Wild Animals Rebelion series.

I'm still trying to find the words to express what I feel about my own stories so... For now I'll just tank people: @koda-shoulda-woulda-but-didnt, first and foremost, for his audience testing, for pushing me when I needed to be pushed, for listening to me whine, for supporting me when I hated that story with all my heart and when I thought I would never finish it.

Thank you @bluelolblue for your enthusiasm and energy, it helped a lot to push through the writer block!

To all the readers who ever took an interest in that series, with additional kudos to those who took the time to comment: thank you so much for that, all of your reviews were little gifts I treasure with all my heart.

As for the Burning of Rome, the final part start at Chapter 13, in the afternath of the assault on the Archives, where it's time to deal with the consequences of everything that happened before : Read Ashes on AO3

[johnwickcaretaker]

Santino and Acheron

Acheron is a wonderful demon OC that you can check out at @soulacheron by @bluelolblue

[bluelolblue]

The Ecstasy of Temptation

Summary: During the celebration that the D'Antonio siblings organized, with a bit of too many glasses of wine, the young omega, Santino, unexpectedly went in heat. The only one who could help him handle that was his alpha bodyguard, John, even if that meant breaking the rules of the contract. And he took great care of Santino in his heat.

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick

Note: August 12th, (12.8.) 2023 was the day I got registered on ao3, became LittleRealSimp. The day I officially joined. The lore behind this silly username is literally me and my irl bestie sitting in a park and talking about how we're gonna name ourselves there. And we both came up with silly usernames ehehe :P. I can't believe it's already been a year, like what, A WHOLE YEAR! I was lurking on ao3 for a VERY long time, and during summer 2023, I got enough courage to start posting.

This fic is a gift for @mrssimply because really her fics were the ones that helped me get through that summer and inspired me to start working on my own fics. I remember reading those fics on the terrace, at evening, so those are really some of my favorite memories from my vacation. BUT ALSO thank you for being my beta reader, a friend, a support, helping me out so much, and all our conversations, that really means a lot to me! Thank you for reading this, too! I'm so happy you like it! <3

Ahh this all made me emotional. I'm just so happy and can't believe it was already a year, and so much had happened. What a journey, and it's still going!

1 year anniversary of me officially joining on ao3, celebrating with a new fic!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Snippet

The D'Antonio siblings threw a celebration over gaining more territory. Gianna was in charge there, greeting guests and having everything under control. Santino, on the other hand, regretted even being there.

He usually liked those celebrations only because he actually felt included and he could drink more wine. The guests were annoying to him probably because most of them were alphas and only a few people knew Santino was an omega. Gianna, his family and John who was assigned as his bodyguard. Who was also an alpha.

John knew he wasn't supposed to have anything with Santino. The contract made that very clear and Gianna's order to him not to react at his heat or his actions during it. He listened of course, but he had to admit, Santino was tempting. The omega didn't want to play by the rules, always teasing John when he had a chance to.

Tonight, John had to keep Santino in his sight all the time. With other alphas around, powerful people, anything was possible. Santino was wearing blockers, he always did when he was around people. He hated the way some alphas would look at him as if they knew.

John kept his distance, watching how Santino was on his second glass of wine and accompanied by a younger alpha. Santino didn't seem interested in the guy, he was just pretending to listen to whatever he was saying.

Luckily, Gianna came to check out the situation. She excused Santino for a moment, going to a private room.

“Don't drink too much, you know how wine affects you,” Gianna reminded him, not looking very pleased.

“I know, don't worry,” Santino reassured her, “Thanks for getting me out of that situation. That guy was not shutting up.”

“Yes, I could tell.” His sister agreed, “Just go easy on the drinks, it could trigger your heat. After all, alphas are all around.”

“I'm wearing blockers, they can't scent me.” Santino fixed his tie, checking himself out in a small mirror on the wall.

Gianna sighed, walking over to him to fix his hair, but the omega moved away.

“Your heat is supposed to come… tomorrow? Or in two days?” Gianna tried to remember his last heat, she has lost track of his cycles ever since he kinda snapped at her for doing that.

Read the rest on ao3

[corleonecaretaker]

Santino humping Michael's thigh hard, like he's such a bitch for it, he cries when he comes in his pants

(I just like to imagine Santino being a slut all the time... and him humping a thigh has been on my mind for so long, I'm going insane)

Uhh yeah just thought I'd share this thought with you :]

Hehehe, this is so Santino. I love that these two work as any combination of dom and sub. Thank you for the ask!!

Also, for new people: I'm writing these two as if the Corleone family was forced to join the High Table and serve Santino D'Antonio, who is in charge of the Camorra's US operations.

Urgent Business

Michael Corleone x Santino D'Antonio, AKA SaintAngel (John Wick Fandom Crossover), 926 words

TW: smut, biting, crying, what could be interpreted as stalking

It hadn’t been so long since they’d seen each other. But to Santino, it had been an eternity. Two months. Two months of hell in New York, trying to balance Michael’s demands with his family’s expectations, without revealing that he favored the Corleones. Why did he always feel like he was the one working for the Don instead of the other way around? He was wrapped around Michael’s finger, and he had to admit he liked it.

But he couldn’t take the loneliness anymore. A few long distance calls, panting desperately into the receiver to the sounds of Michael’s dirty talk, simply wasn’t enough. In February, he showed up unannounced in Nevada.

Michael entered his study that evening and froze, a hand still on the doorknob. “How did you get past the guards?”

“I had ‘urgent business’ with you. They know better than to refuse a representative from the Table.” Santino was sitting at his desk, wearing a smug grin.

Michael clicked the door shut and frowned. Any trace being caught off guard had already vanished. “Hmmm. And what business would that be, exactly?”

He toyed with Michael’s pen, spinning it between his fingers. “Don’t I deserve a reward, for everything I’ve being doing for you?”

The answer wasn’t immediate. Michael took his time, leaning against the wall to light a cigarette. Santino watched the movement of his lips gripping the paper lazily, the smooth, unhurried motions of the lighter. At last Michael returned his gaze, eyeing him, calculating. “You don’t deserve a reward for breaking into my study.” When Santino opened his mouth to protest, he raised a finger. “Yes, yes, not breaking in. You were allowed right in the door. But it’s the behavior of a sex-starved stalker, wouldn’t you agree?”

Santino flushed and stood up. “Whose fault is that, Mikey? You haven’t visited me,” he whined. Michael made no reply, didn’t even look at him. He just looked out the window at the setting sun.

Fine. Time to get his attention, then. This was the way their little games always went. Santino circled around the desk to drape himself over Michael’s chest, inhaling his smoke and nuzzling against his neck in an effort to distract him. But it was Santino who was getting hot and bothered. “You can’t tell me I’ve come all this way for nothing,” he panted, inches from Michael’s lips.

A small sigh. “This is what happens when you come into my home without permission, Santi. You don’t get to cum in me.”

An indignant whimper escaped his throat. The Don’s body was intoxicatingly close to him now, right within reach yet so far away. Desperate for relief, Santino wove their legs through each other, straddling his thigh. Pleading and promises fell from his lips unbidden. “Please, ah fuck…Michael, I need it. Please, you can’t do this to me. I’ll make it the best you’ve ever had. You can do anything to me. Choke me, bite me, ride me until I bleed, I don’t care. I’ve been sitting here all day, thinking about you…”

Michael chuckled. “You’re really that horny? Well, help yourself then. I’m not going to help you.” He took another drag, feigning disinterest and looking out the window again. But his hand was on the small of Santino’s back, supporting him.

That touch alone was enough to drive him crazy. It was completely undignified, but he didn’t care. He just started grinding against the Don’s thigh, grateful even for that little friction. “Bastard,” he swore breathlessly. “Look what you’ve done to me.” He squeezed his thighs against Michael’s, gripping solid muscle. Maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed like Michael shifted his knee upward, angling into it.

“Mmm…please, kiss me Mikey. Please.” He strained towards Michael’s lips but two fingers pressed against his own, pushing him back. He growled in frustration and retaliated by taking them into his mouth, sucking on them vigorously. Maybe he could get close like this…but in another moment they were pulled away again, producing another whine.

Santino was getting to be a real mess. Sweat beaded against his collar and tears were forming in his eyes. “Fuck! No…I need to cum so bad…”

“Fine then. Show me how much.”

Santino moaned and humped faster, heedless of the way the fabric burned and strained against his oversensitive cock. The humiliation of the whole thing started to overwhelm him. The agony of those lips so close to his, those blank eyes fixed on Santino’s burning cheeks. And the rhythm that felt so good but so filthy. He realized he really was going to cum in his pants like a dog humping his master’s leg, but he couldn’t seem to stop. His own legs started shaking and he nearly slid sideways but Michael held him in place, letting him rut as hard as he wanted.

Michael must have felt the change in his motions, because he clamped a hand over Santino’s mouth before he could moan too loudly. Santino bit down on the flesh without thinking, but it didn’t stop him from sobbing through his orgasm.

When his senses started to return, he realized he tasted iron.

“Fuck…I bit you…” he said brokenly, still gasping.

But their little game was over, and that gentle, strong hand just caressed his cheeks, wiping away tears. “It’s okay.” Michael guided him to the chair and pulled him into his lap, holding him.

Only then did Santino feel his tiredness. Perhaps Michael had needed him just as badly. “I missed you,” Don Corleone said softly, into his curls. “Thank you for coming.”

[of-tatooine]

DULCE PERICULUM | CHAPTER III - MOONLIGHT

through me among the people lost for aye.

(John Wick x Reader, Santino d'Antonio x Reader)

The city of angels.

It was a night of profound clarity through the dim lights. Sparkling moonlight adorned pavement older than time, millions of brave and lost souls’ footsteps embedded in every crevice of the cobblestones.

Sampietrini, they were called. The traditional cobblestone on every major road of the ancient city, still surviving to the modern days. Battered, bruised, hit, yet still standing intact. Both a blessing and a curse to walk on.

Sampietrini.

Little Saint Peters. It was fitting that the patron saint of Rome protected over the sacred center of the ancient world, watching over it’s citizens as the guardian angel, shielding from harm's way almost. In every crevice, corner and side of the cramped up cacophony of buildings, alleyways that tied into their intricate maze for those who knew how to navigate it. Those who longed to get lost in it, each step taking into another unknown, yet another thrill. Each step taken further away from the safety of the large squares, wide open spaces bustling with people. Would the next step lead to a new danger to overcome, almost taken as a willing challenge, or would it open to the vast corridor of sunlight waiting at the other end?

The unknown.

Why did you long for the unknown? Why did each melodic thud of your heels against the pavement take you one step closer to danger, it seemed?

Who was your patron saint for the night, watching over your shoulder with every move you made?

It had been a couple of short hours from the time your private jet landed the place you called home, the sleek black car disappearing into the night like a shark, after escorting you to city center. The slightly cold nighttime breeze grazed your hair as it flowed freely, cobblestone smoothly transitioning into marble steps, then into the soft red carpet leading up to the giant double doors.

It was impossible to miss Il Continentale, at least for the ones who knew how and where to look. Specks of decorative light adorned the exterior, guards in full uniform at the entrance, with their hands holding the massive gates open for you to pass. The grandeur would only seem to continually increase with each taken step, an accustomed luxury of decadent chandeliers reflecting rays of light on green and coral marble columns, red velvet couches a mere step against sheer height of Renaissance ceilings within the expansive lobby. The countless of times you found yourself in the safe haven, your eyes almost always would divert to the worn yet lively murals adorning the ceilings - little angels, demons and saints alike, a cacophony of depictions let it be an eternal sins or act of good.

What caught your wandering eyes were the small halos etched on the figures of saints, denoting all that was holy they stood for, evoking the eternal respect of mere bystanders.

Devoid of sin.

Unlike you, and the people who walked this ground before, after or with you.

To your dismay, the golden shimmers of halos painted over the saints seemed to dim with each passing visit.

“Buona sera, signora,” came the friendly voice of the reception peering behind the grand marble counter with a casual backdrop of Botticelli spanning the entirety of the wall. Thoughts quickly shooed out of your mind with trained ease and a kind nod thrown his way, you watched your escorts quietly slip to the shadows of the back rooms as they carried your belongings through the establishment’s inner maze of corners, corridors and doors without being seen - secrecy being a top priority at a luxury assassin’s lair.

After all, there was no telling what horrors or pleasure went through the very four walls of each room of the hotel. What deals were done, dirty or nice, secrets spilled or treasures lost. Just like many others before you, your heart joined the slowly dissipating anxiety within your body of what was to come your way.

Many times you had walked in here, just like this. The sheer moonlight illuminating the ornate architecture, the classical crevices and elegant panels in lazy hazes. Heels digging against the marble, men and women in classical attire roaming about, often clutching a drink from the bar you tended to frequent more than you would have liked to admit. Many a nights you put your head on the plush pillows, sleep a welcome luxury at moments, embracing the warmth of it.

However, some tight knot deep, deep within your stomach kept reminding you of just how different this night would render the future.

It sent an even more unwelcome shiver down your spine.

Your eyes then found the man behind the counter once again. He did not have to ask you for your business here, nor for how many nights you would require service. He certainly did not need to remind you of the rules of the Continentale. No, he knew better than that as the receptionist’s fingers aptly swung over the keyboard in front of him, reaching for the phone next as he placed it over his ear. In the waiting moments that followed, your eyes wandered around the mostly empty lobby, more curious than hopeful to see if you would spot any familiar faces in the approaching dawn of the morning.

Besides the one you came here for.

“Ti sta aspettando,” came the long-awaited announcement from the receptionist, the respectful smile lingering at the corner of his lips as he carefully stepped aside to guide you towards the double elevators with an outstretched hand.

He was waiting for you.

“Grazie,” you would offer the man, a small yet audible chime signaled the bronze-colored elevator doors opening, taking casual steps inside. Watching the floor signs beam one by one as the chime signaling the penthouse finally went off, you let go of a breath that you did not realize you were holding.

Bronze doors did not leave any room for preparation as they opened to lead into a dark marble corridor, grand glass doors opening into the vast balcony with the eternally beautiful city lights twinkling in the distance as your steps took you closer to the center of the attention.

And, lo and behold, there stood your saint, pinstripe-covered arms stretched leisurely over the marble railings as he gazed over his kingdom. Candle light reflected off of the navy tweed on his broad back, sending a light sparkle on the crystal glass of the finest Chianti wrapped in his fingers.

Even with his back turned to you, a voice in you swore his green eyes twinkled  as he gazed at each monument, dimly lit window or reflection under the street lights.

A whole city rendered his playground, for his empire of sin to run foster. Each and every corner riddled with his influence, his men, his rules to be followed. An undeniable force running on unspoken rules, whispered by each passerby and accomplice included.

A cause for which you had been a loyal soldier, sworn for forever and always.

He had to break you first to own you, after all.

“It’s done.”

Your voice soft, betraying your previous anxiety during the journey back home. Mind transitioning into a state of eerie calmness, of habitual ease, the moment Santino turned around to meet your eyes. The eclairs of night danced in his dark curls, illuminating his taut skin. Piercing green found yours, a gentle grin on his lips right before the glass was raised up for another sip, perhaps in the light of the good news that were to follow. Manicured nails reached into your pocket for the long-awaited marker, placing it on the sleek black marble table extending through the length of the balcony.

The gleaming light off of the bronze marker, the object of his attention, hit Santino’s face, sending a look of partial relief upon the sight.

A content hum escaped his lips. “Bene,” his low voice uttered in a mere whisper, a soft beckoning of his fingers to call you closer to his position near the marble railing.

Your legs took you to your place right next to him, your hands finding the cool stone as you perched over gently. Standing next to him came so naturally. It was all you knew, for all these years. It was where you belonged.

Right next to him, on his right side. His queen, overlooking the kingdom she helped rule.

As your weary eyes took sight of the beauty in front of you that you could never get tired of, his hand found yours. Both creatures of habit, yet it never ceased to sent a shiver down your spine.

No one wanted to mess with Santino d’Antonio, and no one wanted to be indebted to him. That you knew. From the back of your mind, as you held onto Santino’s calloused hand, you could not help but wonder if a certain dark-haired assassin would repay his debt.

From then on, you could only hope he would not pay the favor back with his life.

[santinodantoniox]

[soulacheron]

Darkest Nightmares

Wicktober prompt day 20 - Nightmares | event organizer @wickblr

Note: This idea just randomly appeared in my head, and I thought it could fit Santino and Acheron well. So, yes, here is a little ficlet about Santino having a nightmare, and his demon assistant Acheron helped him get through the tough night. Human form Acheron, btw ;)

Have some Santino & Acheron, enjoy! :]

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

The night was long and insufferable, the air felt heavy, the room felt hot and almost claustrophobic. It was one of those nights, the long and terrifying ones that Santino had to get himself through alone.

Vivid memories mixed with nightmares, it felt so real, he was physically and mentally feeling everything that was happening in his mind and he couldn't do anything. He was shaking, hands clenching his pillow and sheets, his breathing hitched from time to time as if he couldn't breathe. He felt sick, he felt dizzy, all that while he was asleep, unaware of his surroundings, all he could focus on was the horrible nightmare. A nightmare that had some reality in it.

It was 4 am when it was happening, the halls of the D'Antonio mansion were dark, everyone was sleeping except Santino's best assistant, Acheron. He doesn't need sleep, only rest sometimes. Usually, during the night, Acheron would do some of Santino's paperwork to help him out, to make it easier for him. After all, Santino wasn't looking too good lately. He started smoking more, drinking before going to sleep without even eating anything, so sometimes he would wake up feeling sick and hungover. As far as Acheron knew, this evening, Santino drank only half a glass of the wine, he looked worried the whole day, and no one could really figure out why. Not even Acheron.

He just signed the last paper when he started feeling uneasy, like there was danger nearby, that something was wrong with Santino. He placed the papers back to their place and went to check out the situation.

There wasn't anything unusual while he walked through the halls, everything was silent, he could only hear his footsteps. Yet the closer he got to Santino's room the more he heard… whimpers? Sobs? Acheron tried to figure out the noise as he leaned his head closer to the door. His master’s noises sounded like he was struggling, like he was in pain and Acheron couldn't let him stay like that.

He carefully opened the door, silently sneaking towards Santino. He stopped right next to him, noticing how he was trembling, gripping the sheets, he really wasn't looking too good. Acheron thought about waking him up, he was struggling in his sleep, Acheron couldn't just let that continue.

“Master,” he whispered, gently rubbing Santino's arm yet he didn't react only winced but that was all.

Acheron stopped for a second, thinking what to do, he felt bad seeing his master like this, it wasn't fair that Santino had to go through another night like this.

“Master,” Acheron tried again, a little louder this time and shaked his arm a little more. “Wake up, it's okay.” He repeated it a few more times until Santino gasped softly, startled awake and disoriented.

The demon stepped back to give him some space, turning his head to look for a glass or a bottle so he could bring him some water. He heard Santino shuffling with the sheets, but he thought it was only him trying to regain himself. “I'm right here-” Acheron started when he looked back but stopped himself mid sentence when there was a barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead.

He could see it in Santino's eyes, they weren't clear, he was confused, he didn't recognize his assistant, his hand was shaking, he was still breathing a bit heavier. Acheron slowly raised his hands in surrender, “It's me, Master.” It didn't work, Santino was still holding the gun. “Acheron. Your assistant.”

That seemed to finally get to Santino, he blinked, sighing and slowly lowering his gun, but still looking at his assistant. D'Antonio looked terrified for a moment, like he couldn't process what just happened. “I’m sorry,” Santino whispered and Acheron took the gun away, placing it at the counter.

“It's okay, you're safe,” Acheron said, trying to sound reassuring, since he could see that his master was distressed.

“No, no, I'm so sorry,” Santino murmured, almost too quietly for Acheron to hear. “I'm sorry- I didn't mean to.” He rubbed his face and pinched his eyes closed in an attempt to fully wake himself up.

“I understand, it's okay.” At this moment, Acheron wasn't sure what to say, he wanted to give Santino some time to process everything. But he felt the need to tell him to breathe, seeing how panicked Santino looked, he couldn't let him have a panic attack. “Just breathe for me, okay? Slowly.”

Santino actually looked annoyed for a moment, just mostly at himself for reacting the way he did and now he was struggling to calm down his breathing. “Fuck, I really… I don't know why I did that.” Santino tried to inhale and exhale calmly, but it was still shaky and it was like he couldn't do anything. It was then when Acheron noticed a glistening trail down Santino's face.

The sobbing he had heard.

“Master, have you cried?” Santino looked up at him in confusion.

“What?” He breathed out, feeling his face and the wet spot. “No… I didn't. What is this?” He was so confused, in disbelief, and nothing was making sense.

“You probably had a nightmare that was too intense. It happens, though, especially if you were stressed out these days.” And, Santino was stressed out these days. Acheron thought it was something about work but now it looked like there was something more.

“What the fuck… I could've shot you.” Santino looked over at the gun on the counter, not really listening to Acheron.

“Well, I can't really die. Although it would hurt.” Acheron tried to use a little bit of his charm to help and calm down the tension. “And it would stain your bed and I don't want that.”

Somehow, that made Santino laugh, but it was a sudden chuckle that turned into more of a desperate laugh as he tried to stop himself, lowering his head to hide his face with his band. “What have I done?” He whispered when he got himself to stop.

“Nothing. Nothing bad happened.” Acheron took this as an opportunity to try and feel Santino's forehead in case he got a high temperature, but it was like Santino sensed that he was getting closer to him.

“Don't touch me.” D'Antonio warned, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Okay, I won't.” Acheron stepped back. There was silence for a few seconds before Acheron tried again, however a bit hesitant, “I'm… not sure having a gun under your pillow is the safest option for you. Maybe in the drawer?”

“Just… shut up. I feel sick, stop talking.” For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick, and having his head down and then looking up made it worse. He cursed something in Italian, Acheron stood right there in front of him in case if he had to help him get to the bathroom. However, Santino managed to take some deep breaths, remembering what Acheron told him, to breathe slowly.

“Okay?” Acheron asked softly, studying Santino's face and body language.

“I… I think so,” Santino nodded slowly, voice barely above whisper. “What time is it?”

“Half past five in the morning.”

Santino sighed in frustration, his mind was racing with so many thoughts. “I can't believe this happened again.”

“It passed now. You're okay.” Well, it could still take Santino some time to fully regain himself.

“I think it was instinctive…” Santino paused to exhale, “To grab the gun. But I thought…”

“What?” Acheron asked softly.

“I thought you were someone else.”

Oh. Acheron was right then. That look in Santino's eyes told everything. Fear, confusion, disorientation, anger. The assistant guessed it was probably better not to ask him who he saw instead of him, but he knew it was only slow steps with Santino when it came to helping him open up about his emotions. No matter what reaction he would get from Santino, he could understand his feelings more that way.

“Do you want to maybe tell me who you thought-”

“No, no,” Santino cut him off, “I don't want to talk about it.”

Acheron nodded, sensing sorrow and misery mixed with anger in his master. Whoever he saw must've done something terrible to him. “How about I bring you some water? Or tea? Anything you'd like,” he offered.

“Water is fine,” Santino replied quietly.

While Acheron was getting him water, Santino got up, felt dizzy but supported himself on the counter to get to the window. He opened it and felt the cold fresh morning air, inhaling and exhaling it.

“Oh, Master, what are you doing?” Acheron asked, placing the glass on the counter and rushed towards him.

“I'm fine, I just need some air,” Santino replied. Sometimes, Acheron's worry would annoy him, even if deep down he knew he only meant to protect him. “Don't touch me.”

Acheron stopped, he was about to hold his shoulders in support. “Okay. I brought you water.”

Santino sighed deeply, closing his eyes, “Thank you.”

The demon stood on the side, waiting for Santino to take in some deep breaths. It took him a few minutes and decided to come back to bed after he shivered from the breeze. He was quiet, didn't say anything when he sat on the bed, took the glass and drank almost everything.

“Put the gun away,” Santino murmured quietly.

“I'm sorry?” Acheron asked since he didn't hear him properly.

“Put the fucking gun away, I don't want to look at it,” D'Antonio snapped, “Put it in the drawer.”

Acheron did what he was told, putting the gun in the drawer. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Santino stayed quiet again, swallowing nervously and looking down at the floor. “I almost pulled the trigger.”

“You didn't.”

“I almost did. You started talking and I stopped myself.”

“You wouldn't kill me, I can't die,” Acheron reminded him.

“I know. What if it wasn't you? What if it was someone else?” Santino looked at him, finally after some time.

“Well…” Acheron sighed, “It didn't happen, it's best not to think about that.” He was worried it would upset if they started talking about it.

“It could've have-”

“Master.” Acheron cut him off. “Everything's alright.” He had to snap him out of it.

Santino looked puzzled, but this time, he didn't snap back at him. Instead, he nodded and looked away from him. “Right… yes. I guess so.”

“You should feel safe in your own home. With me, I can guarantee that you're safe here.”

His master stayed quiet again. He should feel safe here, his reaction was out fear, instinctive and not the first time this happened. “I know. I'm sorry if I ever doubt you, sometimes I forget that you're a demon and immortal.”

Acheron chuckled softly, “It's alright, I understand. I just want you to feel like you're safe.”

“Yeah. You want that and my soul one day.” It looked like Santino relaxed a little, finally.

“I'm glad you're feeling better,” Acheron smiled. “Joking so early.”

“Don't get used to it,” Santino groaned as he felt the back of his neck. He probably got a little stiff while sleeping. He also noticed that his skin felt warm, so Acheron was right about his suspicion.

“Alright,” Acheron nodded, “Would you like any pills? Painkillers? However, I don't recommend drinking them on an empty stomach.”

“No, I'm barely drinking water. I'll be fine, thank you.” Perhaps chugging down water so quickly wasn't the right move, since now it was starting to make him feel sick again.

“Are you sure you'll be fine?”

“Yes, I'll sleep through it. Or… I don't know, stay awake. It wouldn't be the first time.”

“It's better to get some sleep, Master. The nightmare wouldn't continue, I'm sure.” Acheron couldn't promise it won't continue, he was just hoping his master would continue sleeping peacefully.

“We'll see. I'd like to be left alone now.” The sunrise started to appear and that didn't help Santino's sudden headache.

“Whatever you say, Master,” Acheron said and bowed his head in respect. “You can always call me whenever you need me.”

Santino only nodded in response and lay back down on the bed, hearing the door close when Acheron left.

Sleep through it. Acheron couldn't stop thinking about what his master said. Santino said that so casually, so he was doing it often and Acheron couldn't always tell when.

Santino even managed to trick his own demon assistant into thinking he was fine when he wasn't. ‘Impressive.’ Acheron thought.

In the morning, at 8 am, Santino woke up again. Or he never slept. Acheron noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and he just wasn't looking too well. It also took him a longer time to get out of his room, so the demon only thought of the worst, that his master was sick in the bathroom.

Santino was in the kitchen, drinking coffee, or attempting to since this time it tasted awful and made him feel nauseous again. So, he only drank a little bit.

While Santino was still there, Acheron went to his room and immediately noticed that the gun was on the counter again. Why? Acheron thought Santino wanted it out of his sight for at least a day.

Well, Acheron left it there, knowing Santino doesn't like when his things are being touched or put away. But it made him worried and he wanted to ask Santino about it, but seeing how tired he looked, he didn't do it. He didn't want to upset him.

“Acheron. Let's go, we'll be late.” He heard Santino calling for him and he obeyed, following his master and his orders like always.

Acheron wondered the whole day what was the nightmare that upset Santino so much to the point of almost having a panic attack. His master wasn't talking much with him today either, he was just doing the negotiations with people, being his usual self, trying to get the most with his charm and silver tongue. No one could see that he was drained and exhausted except Acheron and Santino preferred it to stay that way.

[babayagaiscomingforya]

You ask you shall receive @tobytheeggo @bluelolblue

[reppyy]

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Hellooooooo 🗣💙🖤

While I'm still thinking and going back to that gif of Riccardo in a bathtub... what do you think about Santino being taken care of like that? What would even get him into that situation that he has no strength or will (or can't do it on his own) to take care of himself like that? How would John help him? I'm pretty sure he is willing to do anything for him. :<

His husband is not doing well, he has to take care of him 😞

Pathetic little wet cat moment with Santino... but also just hurt/comfort again ❤️‍🩹

HELLO this got so out of hand, it's 1,400 words. I ended up really loving this prompt! Lots of comfort for the pathetic wet cat, he really needs it. By the way, this is in the early days of their relationship – they haven’t even made it official yet.

Here's the gif that inspired it.

🖤💙You'll Thank Me Tomorrow 💙🖤

TW: alcohol, vomiting, a person being refused sex because he's too drunk to consent, nonsexual bathing

John was watching the Camorra prince carefully from across the bar. Pink and green lights crashed together on his cheeks, enhancing their lively flush. And he looked beautiful, animated, but…something was wrong. He was talking too loudly, laughing too much, and there was a hint of anger in it. John couldn’t make out what he was saying over the general babble and the music, but whoever he was talking to had been irritating him for a while now, and he’d been dealing with it by throwing back shot after shot of whiskey. It wasn’t like him. He had a glass of wine sometimes in the evenings – it helped him relax. But he never got drunk. John had never seen him like this before.

He caught Addy’s eye over the tap and she let concern flicker through her expression for half a second – yes, she saw it too.

He eyed the man on the stool next to Santino. He was well dressed, a Camorra higher-up of some kind. And he was saying something that Santino absolutely hated. Maybe he was a rival? It was hard to tell. But he was getting more intense as time went on, in response to Santino’s intensity. Before he knew what was happening, their voices were raised. Damn it…he couldn’t bring himself to stay out of it anymore.

He appeared at Santino’s side so suddenly and quietly that he almost startled him. “Hey. Is he bothering you?”

“Wha - ? Oh, John.” He recovered himself in a moment, and instead got a wicked, petulant sort of grin on his face. “No, he’s not bothering me. He can’t bother me. Look, I can even do this.” Santino shoved him.

The man was understandably irate. “Lay off it!”

“Why should I?” He opened his arms, thrusting out his chest, cocky. “You can’t do shit to me! Continental rules.” He grinned, a smug, feline thing, so distinctive to his particular manner of bravado.

“Santino – “ But it was too late. John saw what was going to happen before he did. The man grabbed the glass next to him and dumped it over his head, leaving him shocked and spluttering, with his hair clinging to his face. The conversations nearest to them died away, and a ripple of awkward silence spread to the edges of the room.

He swayed dangerously, moving towards the man instead of the opposite direction where he should be going. “Tu… figlio di puttana…[You….son of a bitch…]”

“Boys!” Addy broke in, a note of solemn warning under her normally bubbly demeanor. “You know the rules. We’re going to be sensible about this, right?”

Santino was still babbling on, almost incoherent. “You don’t…you don’t get to…” But John grabbed his arms, as much to keep him from falling as to keep him from lunging forward.

“Yes, we are. Thank you, Addy, I’ll take care of him.” She nodded in thanks. Santino’s weight lurched around, struggling against him, but he just marched him away towards the elevator.

“Wait…where are we…”

“Your room.” He was leaned fully against John now, seeming suddenly so small, and it made it hard to think. His heart was racing against Santino’s alcohol-drenched vest. “…What floor?”

“Ummm…”

“Never mind. My room. Is that okay?”

“Okay.” He slumped against John’s shoulder, absently grabbing for his hand. John blushed and let their fingers entwine. But Santino was whining even as he nuzzled against him. “Why’d you pull me away? Tsk, you’re so…I could have taken him.“

“You’re not supposed to ‘take him.’ You’ll thank me tomorrow.” He paused. “What did he say to you?”

“He said…he just kept saying things…that he’s glad I’m not the heir, that I don’t deserve command over any of my territory. Kept saying it too subtly and in a friendly way, so I couldn’t say anything back, and I just got angrier and angrier…I hate myself when I’m like this.”

“Don’t hate yourself.” It was a simple thing to say, but it had to be said. The fight was draining out of Santino, and in its place was something tired and needy and very pitiful. The elevator doors opened and John pulled him down the hall towards his room.

“John…I’m too drunk.”

“I know.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“I know.” He stroked his hair and started fishing out his room key, still supporting Santino all the while.

“He’ll attack my territory tomorrow. Because I shoved him. He’ll use it as an excuse. He did it on purpose.” Santino sounded so defeated. His mood was worsening by the moment.

“…Yeah.” John led him inside towards the bed, narrowly preventing him from stumbling into the nightstand and he clutched at his tie in response, trying to steady himself and nearly dragging John down in the process. “Just lay down.”

But Santino just continued swaying and holding onto him. It took him a second to realize he was going to be sick, and by that time he couldn’t get him to the bathroom. He just held his hand and waited for it to be over.

It was like all the energy drained out of him after that. He sunk down against the wall with dead eyes. The room seemed horribly quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll call room service. Um…let’s get you cleaned up.”

Santino nodded. He didn’t seem capable of speaking anymore. There were tears on his cheeks and it made John’s heart ache. He didn’t let go of his hand for even a second while phoning for a maid, and then lifted him in his arms and carried him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them. The room filled with warm steam that made the world feel almost equally blurry to both of them, a sad but intimate space of deep love and care for one another.

None of it seemed to reach Santino. He was limp and pliable and completely unresisting as John peeled off his shirt. He hesitated at his belt, and didn’t touch his underwear at all.

John got him into the water and stood there with him, steadying his shoulders, making sure he wouldn’t fall or be sick again. “We’ll just get you cleaned off enough and then you can lay down, okay?”

“Mmmm…can I have a bath actually?” John almost laughed, relieved that there was still some hint of the demanding little prince he knew.

“Yeah. Anything you want.”

But of course he pushed further. “Can I have your cock in me then?”

This time he really did laugh. “Well no…not that. You’re too drunk, mio caro.”

“Mio caro…” he repeatedly, dazed. “Is that how you feel about me?”

John swallowed. “Yes. It is.”

“That’s how I feel about you too.” A flood of unbridled happiness. But…it couldn’t be true. Santino would probably forget he said that in the morning. Don’t hope. Don’t let yourself hope.

“…Come on, step out for a minute so I can run the bath.”

He looked even more pitiful, leaned against the wall all soaked and shivering in the minute or two it took for John to get the bath water ready. He had a towel around his shoulders at least, but John hurried as much as he could, and rewarded him with a forehead kiss when he was done. Then he lowered him gently into the water. Santino’s eyes closed as he leaned his head back, and he sighed miserably. But after a few moments, he finally seemed to get some peace.

John attended to him in every way he could. He lathered shampoo into his curls and rinsed him with handful after handful of warm water, massaging over his scalp and then the base of his neck. And Santino relaxed further and further at the feeling of those strong, capable hands moving over him, making sure everything was exactly as it should be. He made little inadvertent sounds of joy at being so comforted, and then finally became so sleepy that he made no sounds at all.

John would have to get him out of the water once it got cold, but for now, he might as well let him rest. John sat down on the edge of the tub with a hand over his chest and just held him, looking at the deep frown lines and the signs of care already forming at the corners of his eyes. The world had been too harsh on Santino. He deserved so much gentleness. And John decided then and there that he would give it to him.

[marquisedegramont]

Congrats on your greatest work yet! I’m sure it will be amazing to see. Is it Marquis related????

Maybeeee

It’s me putting all my analysis works (on my main) into a fic! All of the knowledge I’ve acquired and all the theories I’ve conducted and all the character analysis I’ve written are finally being written and laid out!! So excited to finish it heeheheeheh ^_^

More on the story under the cut

So basically it’s like a High Table prequel, and it starts off with Gianna and Santino (Gianna mostly because I’ve decided Santino has had too much time in the spotlight) and then eventually it branches out to people like Charon, John, Helen, Adjudicator, Harbinger, Viggo, Marcus and of course— Marquis.

I’ve decided to fully delve into my more “artistic” kind of writing style in which I write it flowery, and of course with symbolism and distinct imagery (which I unknowingly copied off of @thewhumpcaretaker HAHA i stole ur writing style you can’t have it back >:) /j)

I can give a small snippet right now

AT THE BASE of everything that makes a person a human, they are an animal.

The illusion of it is the belief that humans aren’t animalistic. Gianna thinks otherwise. She has seen the ends of both sides; her as an animal and others as animals— ripping away flesh with bare hands and teeth sunk, grasping onto the thin thread of power. That’s the life philosophy that Gianna and Santino were both destined to learn and uphold.

I’m trying to put all my knowledge of the mafia/crime itself, human nature, and some other John Wick lore

Of course, it’s a multi-protagonist thing. Sort of like Arcane, but of course with a clear protagonist duo which would be Gianna and Santino.

I want to write it, I want it for people to read so they can find it both entertaining and in a way, insightful!

Can’t say when I would release the first chapter since I like to write three chapters before releasing the other one

Would love for some advice on how to write long fics tho dhsndhdh

The title is TDFP. Try to find out what that means :)

Love all of you guys who support me and my writing, I know it takes me a long time to write and I love all of you who have the patience <3

[mrssimply]

The Burning of Rome/Part II - Wildfire

Coming tomorow Now on AO3.

Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you.

Stay tuned >:]

[johnwickcaretaker]

Does anyone want a roughly cut out Santino D'Antonio .PNG?

Source

[bluelolblue]

Biscuit

Summary: Santino found an abandoned puppy and decided to take her home. He named her Biscotti, and she quickly became a new family member, getting along with Dog and Santino's husband and bodyguard, John.

Rating: Teen, lots of fluff

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick

Note: This fic is a gift for my dog Lara, for her birthday! I decided to write this because I needed something wholesome, and because I also think Lara wouldn't want any dog to be abandoned. They all deserve a nice home. This fic also means a lot to me, I put some of Lara's characteristics into Biscotti, and I think it really fits her and how Santino and John handle everything. They love dogs so why not give them a little fluffy puppy ^ ^

☆ SPECIAL THANKS TO @mrssimply ☆ for beta reading and helping out with it! I'm so glad you enjoyed it and got to read it first ehehe!

Enjoy Santino and John being dog parents :3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ૮ ᴖﻌᴖა ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Snippet

“When are you coming back?”

“Tomorrow afternoon, probably. I settled things down here,” John said through the phone. He was sent to Italy to do one of Santino's jobs. Why should the Crime Lord himself get his hands dirty when he had a loyal bodyguard... who was also his husband who would die for him?

“Good, I can't wait. There's something I want to show you.”

John could tell Santino was smiling even through the phone. He didn’t often hear that soft tone over the phone so he was actually really curious to know what made him this happy.

“Did you do something?” John asked, smiling to himself. Usually when Santino was being honest he sounded like this, meaning John could indeed expect something. Probably something good.

“No… kinda. You'll see.”

“Alright. I'm looking forward to whatever it is,” John said, “And I can't wait to see you.”

He could hear a faint chuckle and what he assumed was Dog whining playfully in the background. Although, it sounded a bit more high pitched.

“Can't wait to see you, too. Be careful on your last day there. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

What could've Santino done in one day? John knew him pretty well, he was married to him, he knew his habits, his mood, everything. And he knew how sometimes Santino could be unpredictable, but that never changed the way John felt about him.

He was thinking about Santino the whole day, he couldn't wait to return back home and see whatever Santino had been preparing. He missed Dog, too.

Thankfully, he could rest today at the Continental in Rome. He’d done what he had to do, there shouldn't be any problems, he could allow himself to rest.

He took a nap so that time flew faster, and that nap turned into a full deep sleep which was good. However at some point at 2 am he was awakened by a notification on his phone, and it was from Santino.

He sent a picture of Dog curled up on the bed on John's side, followed by a text, “He misses you and wishes you good night.”

Read the rest on ao3