#okay santino let's kiss what are you waiting for

[bluelolblue]

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Hello! Ciao! Pozdrav! Greeted you in three languages lmfaoo-

So, Santino having a nightmare >:]

What would the nightmare be about? Would it be about his traumas or something else? How would John comfort him, help him to calm down? Aahh so many possibilities with this but I'm curious on your opinions! :P

Have a lovely day! ✨️

Grazie! Merci! Thank you for this ask!

Hmmm, the nightmare could be about a lot of things. Trauma is definitely one of them, and the most likely. It could also be related to one of the phobias that you've talked about in the past - spiders make for some very scary nightmares! But I think I'll write about Santino having a nightmare over the fear of losing John. Maybe he dreams that John has died while trying to protect him.

Sorry this took a while! I decided to make this into another mini fic. It's very sad but hopefully sweet as well. I hope you enjoy! 💙

TW: nightmare, crying, discussion of self-sacrifice, slightly suggestive at the end ;)

John opened his eyes to see the darkness and the vague outlines of their bedroom, a fuzzy but familiar space tinted indigo by the night light on the far wall. Why had he woken up? It was certainly still far from sunrise.

It took him a moment to realize that he was hugging a pillow, not Santino. At some point during the night, Santino had rolled away from him and was facing the wall on the other side of the bed. John could see him twitching slightly and smiled, thinking of the way Dog kicked his feet in his sleep when dreaming about running.

But then he heard a small, whimpering sound, almost a sob. John's mind surged with protectiveness. Should he wake him up? He'd had another long day of work, and needed the sleep, but to leave him in distress was not an option. Holding his breath to keep quiet, he shifted closer, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look. "Hey," he said softly, but Santino didn't awaken. He just stirred even more restlessly, letting out another shuddering breath that ended at a high pitch.

"John…"

Hearing his own name, John couldn't wait anymore. He put a hand firmly on Santino's shoulder and spoke louder, "Hey. Wake up, baby."

Santino gasped, and the gasping gave way to full-on sobbing as he curled into himself further, awake but still not fully aware. John wrapped his arm over Santino's shaking body and rolled him onto his back, leaning over him. "No, hey. It's okay. I'm here."

"You're…here?" Santino looked up at him in some kind of heartbreaking awe. "Grazie a Dio [thank god], I thought…"

"What?"

"I just…never mind, it's stupid. It was just a bad dream."

"Not stupid." John reached over to switch on the bedside lamp, hoping to chase away any more fear with some light. At that, Santino crossed his arms over this chest, trying to force his breathing back to normal.

"Really, it's fine."

John didn't force him to talk, just lay an arm across his body in a silent offer of comfort. After a stubborn few seconds, Santino unfolded his arms to embrace him, and the tears started again.

"I'm so glad you're alive, John. I dreamed…" he sighed heavily, the sound distorted by lungs still heavy with sadness. "I dreamed that the Camorra shot you. You were gone, and it was - it was my fault…"

John pulled him onto his chest, wrapping the blanket over both of them and holding him as close as possible. "I'm not going anywhere." His voice was a low, protective rumble into the top of Santino's head, and he followed it with a kiss. Santino was really this upset over the thought of his death? It twisted at his heart. "I'm too lucky, having a life with you. Anyone tries to take this away from me, they're dead."

Santino gave a choked laugh.

"I'm serious."

"I know. Just…don't give your life for mine, please. If it comes to that."

John went still. "I…can't promise you that. But I can promise that it wouldn't be your fault."

Santino huffed in frustration, but it was no use to argue. They had talked about this many times. John was there to protect him, and that was that. Even to the death, if need be. Frowning deeply, he ran his hands along John's neck and up to his cheek, as if still trying to convince himself that John was really here.

"Santino. I want to hear you say it. It wouldn't be your fault."

Santino didn't respond at first. "It…" another frustrated sigh. "It wouldn't be my fault. It would be the Camorra's fault, and I'd wipe out everyone who hurt you."

A deep laugh rolled out of John's chest, echoing up through Santino's ribcage. "Good." He kissed him again, on the lips this time.

"I was serious too."

"I know." He stared deeply into Santino's eyes, drinking in the fact that this man loved him enough to grieve for him, to kill for him. That they would each give their lives for the sake of the other. Santino's chin rested on his chest, and he met John's gaze with one that was equally loving.

John became very aware that their legs were tangled together under the blankets.

"Don't think about that anyway," he said. "We're together now. Let's enjoy it." And he switched the lamp back off.

[artificialqueens]

War! (Bianca x Alyssa) - Jinkx-Monswoon

SUMMARY: In which Alyssa and Bianca read each other to filth—but in the heat of the moment, one does something that leaves them both speechless.

A/N: fun fact! about an hour after I finished writing this fic, Alyssa was announced as the next Pit Stop guest! did I accidentally predict that? you decide… >:]

“Alyssa,” says Bianca from across the dressing room, “how much longer is your damn makeup gonna take?”

“Hey, a bitch needs time to paint,” Alyssa retorts, leaning toward the mirror and brushing at her lips with gloss.

“Puh-lease,” Bianca rolls her eyes, “since when do you paint?”

“Speak for yourself!” Alyssa squints at Bianca’s reflection in the mirror. “Sure, you may paint now, but don’t act like we haven’t all seen your humble beginnings on Drag Race…” She turns from the reflection to the real Bianca behind her, her brow furrowed.

“Emphasis on humble.”

Bianca shoots up from her chair. “Oh, you wanna go there? Fine by me, Katy.”

“Oh, hardy-har. At least I wasn’t kissing RuPaul’s ass as Judge Judy.”

“Hey, I did NOT do that on purpose, okay? If I could do it again right now, I’d do Santino Rice just to piss him off.”

“Sure,” Alyssa laughs.

“But I’m not gonna!” Bianca declares as she saunters toward Alyssa. “And you wanna know why?”

“Oh, yes.” Alyssa stands as well, leveraging herself against the taller queen. “Enlighten me.”

Bianca lightly jabs her acrylic nail into Alyssa’s chest. “Because I don't need to go on All Stars to get a do-over in the first place!”

Alyssa’s eyes widen as she backs away, breaking out in a fit of incredulous laughter.

“Oh! Ohhh-ho-ho-ho!” She throws her arms out and sneers. “Del Rio wants a fight!”

“And I’ll win, too. You know, like I usually do when I’m in a competition. I even still have the title to prove it!”

Alyssa tilts her head, flashing a faux-sweet smile. “Aww, and you even still use the same tired-ass reads!”

“I thought we already established which one of us is actually funny.” Bianca puts a hand on her hip. “Didn’t we?”

“You make a good point! In fact, let’s establish a few more facts. For example…” Alyssa starts counting on her fingers.

“You have two shitty movies…”

“That you agreed to be in.”

“Just to beef out my IMDB page—which also includes a Netflix original docu-series and a Drag Race web series that, unlike yours, is being brought back by popular demand.”

“Oh, yeah? Go on, ya big fancy sellout.”

Alyssa proudly gestures to herself. “I was also a semifinalist on America’s Got Talent!”

“Hah, as a fucking wildcard!” Bianca smirks. “Getting eliminated five times between two shows is nothing to brag about.” Her volume rises—she may be getting a little carried away.

“It’s called good networking, miss Vimeo original comedy special. Like, come on, who the fuck uses Vimeo—”

“Okay, okay, Q&A’s over. Let me ask YOU a question, Edwards.“ 

A shit-eating grin emerges from her black-colored lips.

"Do you like Dancing with the Stars?”

Alyssa’s face twists. As proud as she may be of her drag daughter, she certainly does not appreciate Bianca having the gall to compare her success to Alyssa’s. “Don’t you dare,” she seethes.

“What about The Masked Singer?” Bianca continues, drunk on the power of her words.

“I will make you shut up, and you’re gonna regret it when I do,” Alyssa—a woman of her word—threatens.

“Oh, and don’t even get me started on—”

Suddenly, Alyssa grabs Bianca with both hands by the collar of her dress, pulling herself up to look her dead in the eye.

“Finish that sentence,” she whispers in a dry, cutting rasp. “I dare you.”

Already, Bianca is preparing to open her mouth again—and so, too, does Alyssa prepare to strike back.

“…the Emmy-winning HBO Max original…”

Oh, she’s serious. So be it—this is the perfect opportunity for Alyssa to enact her revenge.

“We’re Here—”

“Shut up.”

“—mmph!”

Bianca stumbles, nearly knocked over by the intense, electrifying kiss discharged onto her lips.

Alyssa doesn’t hold back. She’s been waiting to do this for years. Her pride had long kept her from doing it sooner—but again, this was the perfect opportunity for it. To show Bianca what she was capable of; to weaken her; to bring her down to her level, in order for her to understand that Alyssa is so stupidly in love with her that it makes her angry.

She’s absolutely relishing in having caught Bianca off guard, and finally being able to unleash on her all of the feelings she’s repressed for far too long.

Then, not even a second after she pulls away, Bianca retaliates.

She pins Alyssa against the wall, pushing back into the kiss as she snakes a hand into her hair. Alyssa is too shocked to even move—that is, until Bianca gently tugs at her locks, and that’s enough for the smaller queen to crumble into the kiss, dizzy with passion.

The messy exchange goes on—it starts with the two practically smashing each other’s faces together, drunk on the heat of the moment—but each pause to catch their breath is sobering, and it gradually brings them down from the high. The moment becomes less of a collision between opposing forces, and more of a union between hearts, reflected in each kiss being more gentle and affectionate than the last.

An eternity seems to pass before Alyssa finally calls it off, lowering her head and sinking into Bianca’s chest. In spite of what just happened, she feels a twinge of regret for doing something so impulsive. Completely separated from her pride, this regret escapes her.

“Sorry—”

“Don’t.”

…Shit.

She’s fucked up, hasn’t she?

Alyssa looks up at Bianca, fearing the worst—but upon seeing the glazed look of desire in her eyes, her mouth falls slightly agape and her cheeks flush.

“Just kiss me again.”

It takes a second or two for Alyssa to even register this—but once she does, she wastes no time acting at her behest.

Revenge has never been so sweet.

[toxickehlani]

𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗢𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

║ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛ･* – 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

║ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ･* – 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾.

║ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ･* – 𝟥,𝟦𝟥𝟥

║ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ･* – 𝖺𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, ＆𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾.

║ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ/ᴘᴀʀᴛ･* – 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖵💘: 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖳𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈

ᴘʀᴇ��ɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ .༺ ♥︎ ༻ ࣭ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Michelle's POV

𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗘 now, getting another tattoo has been on my mind. It was a good thing that Diego's cousin Santino owns a shop and does fantastic work, in my opinion. Today, I invited the girls to tag along and go to Santino’s shop with me. I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and changed into an off-white ribbed sleeveless romper, a green long-sleeve oversized shirt, and Nike Air Jordan 1 mid 'Pine Green.'

As I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom doing my makeup, I felt a smack on my ass, making me turn around and glare at my boyfriend, Diego.

"Boy, stop playing too much," I said, laughing at him.

"What do you expect? You're sticking it out there for me." He grinned, standing behind me, gripping and pulling my hips against his.

Diego continued grinding against me, and I could feel his dick growing harder. I had to admit he felt damn good and had my panties damp, but I had plans with my girls today.

"Look, if you keep on, you will use the five fingers on your hand." I teased, looking at him through the mirror.

"Like always." Diego retorted, gripping my ass cheek.

"If you stop, I'll suck you off when I get back," I replied, glancing back at my boyfriend.

Diego stared at me, biting my bottom lip, turned me around, and wrapped his arms around my waist. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine, and I couldn't help but kiss him back, sucking on his tongue. His hands cupped my ass, squeezing the flesh between his fingers. A moan escaped my mouth as he backed me against the counter. I wanted to say fuck it so bad, but I promised the girls we would hang out after my tattoo appointment.

Before we got too heated, I had to put my hand on Diego's mouth and push him away. He went to pull my hand away, but my phone started ringing. I laughed as my boyfriend started kissing my neck. Grabbing my phone, I answered it.

Hello?

daymaker🩵😹 - Be ready. I'm on my way.

Okay, I will.

daymaker🩵😹 - Don't let Diego's horny ass hold you back, either.

I hear you, Jessibelle, I won't bye.

daymaker🩵😹 - Bye.

Tossing my phone to the side, I maneuvered away from my insatiable boyfriend, making him groan as I walked out of the bathroom.

"You better run, or you won't get to your tattoo appointment!" I hear Diego yell in frustration.

I knew his dick was hard by the tone in his voice, and that made me giggle. "I love you too."

As I slipped a green baseball cap on my head, I grabbed my green bag and headed out the door. Pressing the button for the elevator, I stood and waited for it to arrive. When the metal doors opened, I stepped on the machine and rode down to the lobby.

daymaker🩵😹 - I'm outside.

Here I come.

daymaker🩵😹 - Kk💋.

Walking through the doors, I saw Jessibelle's 2018 blue Toyota Camry XSE parked there. I opened the car door and climbed in the backseat.

"Let me guess. Diego was trying to hold you back." Amelia teased, smirking at me.

"Girl, yes, he started kissing my neck, thinking that would make me stay," I explained, shaking my head.

"Would you have stayed?" Jessibelle asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

"Yes, I would've. Diego has me in the mood to fuck, but I remembered I have an appointment with Amelio." I replied, smiling at her.

"If you didn't have the appointment, you two would've been going rounds, huh?" Cassandra inquired, laughing at me.

"Hell yeah," I responded, making the girls laugh. "I think I'm going to start ovulating soon or something."

"Does he want a baby or something?" Jessibelle asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Yes, he has bad baby fever," I answered before my phone dinged in my bag.

It was a message from Diego. Is he lonely already? I just left the house. Clicking on our conversation, what I saw made me gasp. The text he just sent me was a ten-second video of him stroking himself. What is wrong with this man? Does he think doing this is okay?

Amelia saw the expression on my face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"This pendejo just sent me a video of him stroking his dick, and it's taking everything in me not to tell Jessibelle to turn the car around," I explained, whining as I leaned my head against the back of the passenger seat headrest.

"When?" Cassandra gasped, looking at me.

"A minute ago," I responded, poking my bottom lip out in a pout.

"Are you that horny?" Jessibelle asked, glancing at me as she approached a red light.

"Yes, when it comes to my man. I love getting stretched open by him." I nodded, answering her.

"You nasty puta." Cassandra laughed, smacking my thigh. "But I know that feeling."

"When they first slide it in. It is the best feeling." Amelia admitted, making us laugh.

"You're not lying, though." Jessibelle grinned, smacking her hand on the steering wheel. "It does feel good."

"Okay, let's stop before I have to reschedule my appointment," I said, leaning back as I replied to Diego with a clip from my camera roll.

Smirking, I stared out the window as Jessibelle drove to my tattoo appointment. Arriving at Stellar Ink, Jessibelle parked in front of the building, and we got out. When we walked inside, the girls sat down while I stood at the reception desk. Soon, a girl around my age emerged from the back. That's when I realized it was Santino's girlfriend, Caralina.

She had her head down on her phone. "Welcome to Stellar Ink. How can I help you?" When she looked up, she smiled, seeing that it was me. Michelle?"

"Yes, chica, it's me," I replied, smiling at her.

"¿Cómo estás? Ha pasado un tiempo." Caralina asked, walking from around the counter to hug me. ( "How are you? It's been a while." )

"I've been good. Dealing with Diego and his baby fever." I answered, rolling my eyes.

"Still?" She questioned, widening her eyes in shock.

"Unfortunately, yes." I nodded, sighing through my nose. "I have an appointment with Santino to get my hand tattooed."

"Okay, he's already in the back. I'll go get him." Caralina responded, pointing behind her shoulder.

Nodding, I stood there and waited until she and Santino came to the front. When he saw me, a wide grin appeared on his face.

"Michelle, how's it going?" He asked, opening his arms wide and allowing me to hug him.

"I'm doing well. I'm excited about this tattoo," I replied, clapping my hands.

"Well, let's go back and get started," Santino said, nodding for me to follow him. "I already drew the design."

"I'll be back," I told the girls, following behind Santino to his station.

He grabbed a folder and pulled out the tattoo drawing before showing it to me. I was speechless. No words would come out of my mouth.

"I'm assuming you like it." Santino laughed, making me look up at him.

"Fuck yea. I love it." I gasped, nodding as I grinned. "This tattoo is sexy as fuck."

"Let's get this shit started." He said, placing black latex gloves on his hands.

Sitting in the chair, I relaxed my left arm on the wide armrest as Santino gathered his supplies and got to work. He began with the tattoo's outline, which hurt some parts of my hand. The entire time, my eyes followed the direction of the gun. After some time, I looked up to see Jessibelle walking toward me.

"You feeling okay?" She asked, staring at my hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It hurts a little bit." I nodded, wincing as Santino started shading in the outline.

Finally, around three hours later, with a break in between, Santino finished my tattoo. He wiped the excess ink off before rubbing petroleum jelly on the fresh ink and wrapping plastic wrap around it.

"Damn, that looks sexy as hell." Jessibelle complimented, nodding her head in approval.

"Thanks," I replied, smiling at her.

Following Santino to the front, I pulled out my wallet, ready to pay him. "How much do I owe you?"

"For you at three hundred," Santino replied as I counted the cash and handed it to him.

I grabbed an additional one hundred dollar bill and placed it in the tip jar. "Here's a tip, too."

"Thanks, Michelle. I appreciate it." He nodded, smiling at me.

"You're welcome. Thanks again." I responded, pulling him into a hug.

"No problem." He said, shaking his head.

After waving goodbye to Santino and his fiancé, the girls and I left his tattoo shop and got in Jessibelle's car. My stomach was growling, and right as I opened my mouth to say something, Cassandra beat me to it.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?" Cassandra suggested, looking at us in the car.

"I'm down," I replied, nodding to the girls.

"Oh, let's go to Sixty Vines," Amelia said, pulling out her phone. "They should be serving lunch about now."

"Oh yes, let's go." I gasped, nodding my head.

Jessibelle nodded before changing lanes and turning left, driving down a street. Arriving at Sixty Vines, we exited the car and entered the restaurant. After requesting a table, a hostess led us to our table, handed us menus, and walked away. I looked over the choices and thought everything looked good. As I went to say something, my phone started ringing.

I went to look at the screen and saw that Diego was calling me, so I answered it.

Hello?

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Are you still getting your tattoo?

No, I'm with the girls getting food. What's up?

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Where are you girls getting food?

Sixty Vines.

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Can you bring me a Double Stack Vines Burger?

With everything on it?

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Yes.

Okay, I'll order it before we leave.

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Thank you. Te amo.

Besos.

After I hung up the phone, I sat it on the table as a waitress approached our table with a notepad and pen.

"Hello and welcome to Sixty Vines. My name is Iris. Can I start you ladies off with drinks?" The waitress around my age asked,

"I'll have an iced tea," I replied, staring at my menu.

"Can you give me a Sprite?" Amelia ordered, smiling at the waitress.

"Can I have pink lemonade?" Jessibelle questioned, looking up from the menu.

"I'll have the same as her," Cassandra said, pointing to Jessibelle beside her.

"Okay, I'll be back with your drinks and take your food orders," Our waitress replied, smiling before walking away.

As we continued scanning the menu, Cassandra said something that made me look at her, arching an eyebrow.

"Out of the four of us, who do you think will get married first?" Cassandra asked with a grin on her face.

"I'd say either Michelle or Amelia because they've been with their partners the longest." Jessibelle nodded, answering her question.

"I'd say Michelle because they're already talking about babies." Amelia smiled, responding to our friend.

"You could be right." Cassandra narrowed her eyes as she rubbed her chin.

"Well, whichever comes first, I'm good with it," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"Are you ready to have mini Diego's running around?" Jessibelle inquired, nudging my arm.

"No one is ready for kids, but if it happens right now, it happens," I explained, taking my cap off and ruffling my hair. "If I'm honest, I've wanted one, but I'm scared to lose my body shape."

"Girl. Don't you know that having a baby, especially your first one, makes you thicker?" Cassandra commented, making me roll my eyes.

"Why does Diego say the same thing?" I questioned, laughing at them.

"Because it's true." Amelia and Jessibelle said in unison at the same time.

   I rolled my eyes and said, "I don't know, maybe, but we'll see.”

"I'd think you and Diego make some cute babies," Jessibelle commented, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, thank you." I nodded, running my hands through my hair.

   Within minutes, our beverages arrived, and our waitress wrote down our food orders and left the table again. Finally, the girls and I ate and talked once our food arrived. Getting out of the house and spending time together always felt good. Before we got ready to pay the tab, I ordered Diego's meal and added it to my check. Once we paid for everything, the girls and I grabbed our food bags and left the restaurant.

   After Jessibelle dropped off Cassandra, it was my turn to head home. Arriving at my apartment, I unlocked the door before walking inside and setting my things down. As I entered the living room, I saw Diego sitting on the couch, watching a basketball game with his hands in his pants.

"Why do you constantly keep doing that?" I asked my boyfriend, locking the front door.

"It's comfortable." He answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"It looks like you're masturbating or something." I laughed, handing him the bag with his food in it.

   Diego ripped the bag open, pulled the white box inside, and bit into his burger.

"Thank you, baby." Diego said, kissing my cheek.

"Eww. You're welcome." I cringed, wiping my cheek and smiling at him.

   I got comfortable on the sofa and relaxed with Diego. We talked as he ate most of his food and watched Netflix movies together. After about two hours, I grew sleepy and wanted to go to bed. Heading to my attached bathroom, I turned on the shower. Once the water was at the perfect temperature, I wrapped my hand up, stripped off my clothes, and stepped inside.

   The water felt so good, hitting my skin as I stood under the shower head. After a couple of minutes, I grabbed my lilac mesh sponge and started to wash my body. I followed up with rinsing off before turning the water off, stepping out, and wrapping a towel around myself. As I walked into the bedroom, I quickly moisturized my skin since I had some privacy. When I slipped on a black modal sports bra from Ethika, I heard my boyfriend's footsteps.

"Don't put any bottoms on," Diego said, biting his bottom lip as he stared at me.

"Why?" I asked, staring at him confused.

"We have some unfinished business." He replied, licking his lips as he stared at my lower half.

"Says who?" I responded, watching him slip his tank top off.

"Me. Don't think I forgot about the clip you sent me earlier." Diego said, wrapping his arms around me.

"What about the one you sent me first?" I mentioned, feeling my boyfriend grip my ass through my towel.

"Mmm, we can get back at each other now." He smirked, pressing his lips to mine.

   My giggle turned into a moan as Diego backed me up to our bed, and my body hit the soft mattress. His heavy body nestled between my legs, and I could feel his dick rubbing against my bare clit. Did he have boxers on? The sensation made me clench around nothing as my pussy was leaking. It felt so good.

"I guess I have no choice now, huh?" I questioned when Diego pulled away, resting his forehead against mine.

"Duh," My boyfriend smiled, biting his bottom lip.

As Diego laid on his front between my thighs, he spread my legs open, holding them down by the back of my knees. He licked a thick stripe up my folds before sucking my clit in his mouth. I moaned, throwing my head back and holding my legs open as he feasted on pussy.

"Tu lengua se siente tan bien." I whimpered, resting my left hand on the back of my boyfriend's head. ("Your tongue feels so good." )

Diego's skillful tongue traced the length of my pussy before gently sucking my clit into his mouth. My hips bucked against his mouth as he devoured me.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," He rasped, voice thick with lust. "I can spend an eternity down here." My boyfriend's hands gripped the fat of my thighs before his fingers spread my lips open and continued to eat me into oblivion.

The next thing I knew, my back arched off the bed as I cried out in bliss when my orgasm hit me. Diego pulled away, pushed himself up to his knees between my legs, and slowly sank inside of me. The stretch felt so good that my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

"Fuck, baby." I gasped, pressing my hand on his lower stomach as he hit deep.

He groaned as he pulled out and pushed back in, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the room as he moved at a brisk pace.

"You're so tight," Diego muttered, his hands now cupping my breasts, squeezing them.

As my boyfriend thrusts deeper, his dick brushed against that sweet spot that made me see stars every time. "Diego papi... you feel so good. Keep going just like that." Diego had legs spread open as I lay there, a moaning mess.

My nails dug into the skin on his wrists as I clenched around him. "You feel so fucking good, mamita. The way your pussy hugs me makes me loco."

All I could do was moan and succumb to the pleasure spreading throughout my body. I licked two fingers on my right hand, reached down between us, and rubbed my clit in sloppy circles making my breath hitch in my throat. Diego's dick began hitting deeper inside of me, causing my toes to curl.

"That's it. Right there!" I cried out, feeling my second orgasm of the night approaching.

Suddenly, I felt Diego's hand find its way around my throat and gently squeeze it, causing me to cry out.

"That's it. Come for papí." My boyfriend groaned, leaning down to smash his lips to mine.

His thrusts slowed down before he pulled out of me all the way and smacked my ass. "Ow! Don't hit my ass so hard."

"Quédate callado y date la vuelta." Diego chuckled, smacking my ass cheek hard again. ( "Be quiet and turn over." )

I whined, turning around on my stomach and arching my back. Diego played with my wetness before sinking his fingers inside of me, making me moan. He laughed, sticking them Im his mouth and sucking my juices off of them. My boyfriend teased my sensitive pussy with the head of his dick before pushing inside of me again. In this position, I could feel him pounding against the spot within me.

"Holy shit, baby." I cried out, grasping the sheets in my hands.

"You feel me in there, huh? So deep inside of you." Diego murmured in my ear, biting my earlobe.

"Sí! I feel it, papí!" I nodded as Diego pulled me up by my neck and kissed my forehead.

"Oh, mamita, you feel so good. I'm gonna give you all my babies." My boyfriend grunted, slapping my ass cheek.

"I want it, papí." I moaned, biting my bottom lip.

He smiled, pressing a final kiss to my face before pushing me down to the mattress and roughly thrusting inside of me. The sound of our sweaty skin slapping each other echoed off the walls, along with my cries of pleasure. Diego moaned and groaned above me, spanking my ass raw and red. His hands gripped my hips tighter, pounding all of his stress away in my cunt.

"Oh fuck, I can't wait until you get pregnant," Diego whispered in my ear.

He grunted from above me and stilled as his hot sticky cum coated my gushy walls. Diego ignited my body in pleasure always has. As he pulled out of me, I lay there heavily, breathing on my way to sleep. Usually, Diego would clean me off, but tonight, he wanted to make sure I ended up pregnant.

"You're supposed to clean me off. Now I'm going to wake up sticky." I said, smacking the back of my boyfriend's head.

"I want to make sure that it takes." He replied, smiling at me.

"I'm not even ovulating," I responded, shaking my head.

"You don't have to ovulate to get pregnant." My boyfriend sighed, rolling his eyes.

Diego wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer as he got comfortable. I softly chuckled, rubbing his arm as we both fell asleep, exhausted.

[melis-writes]

“How can you even look at another woman that way?”

Incoming MAJOR drama alert for this one and I love it!! 👀😅

"How could you even look at another woman that way?" You swallow hard, feeling your throat beginning to tighten.

"Victoria," Michael adjusts the open collar of his loose dress shirt, glancing over at you. "You're overreacting."

"I'm not." You narrow your eyes, aware that your voice is quivering with a threat of oncoming tears. "You know I'm not, and I won't let you excuse it like that, Michael."

Michael puts his cigarette back in the corner of his mouth, his eyes lingering over yours for a moment longer before he takes another drag. "I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of this, personally."

"Oh my God," you groan, rubbing your temples as tears sting your eyes. "Michael I was there the entire night! Weren't you aware of that? How she was brushing up against you while we were dancing? The little shoulder tap to get your attention? You think I'm fucking stupid?"

"Stop." Michael says back sternly, pointing a finger at you. "Don't raise your voice at me–"

"I don't care!" You shout back, bursting into tears. "You're not even listening to me! You're not taking any of this seriously!"

"Of course I'm not taking it seriously." Michael narrows his eyes back at you. "This is ridiculous and you're wasting your breath. There was hundreds of guests joining us in celebration tonight and more than one woman wearing a flashy, short dress–"

"So you have a problem with some of my dresses but oh no, it's okay when Don Corleone looks over at some whore at his dinner party?!" You interrupt him, hiccupping. "She pretended to drop her bracelet and fucking bent over so you would have a full view of her ass, and what did you do? I saw you, Michael! I saw your eyes all over her and that panty shot, I can't fucking believe you."

"What do you want me to say?" Michael exhales deeply, growing irritated. "Hmm? What do you want me to do about it? I simply glanced over."

"Right." You breathe, hating yourself for letting jealousy get the better of you but with each time your mind wanders back to that sight, the emotion is replaced by a strain of anger.

"You just looked. And Sonny just kissed me. It happens, right? It all happens in the heat of the moment." Before Michael can even reply, you press on, continuing. "One moment you're doing something and the next, there's someone else, right?"

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Victoria, you know that?" Michael scowls. "Bringing up the past to get back at me for doing nothing–"

"Nothing?" You croak out. "I saw the look in your eyes, Michael. You look at me like that. You look at me like that when you come home from your business trips, when you lay me in your bed, when you tell me you want me, when you can barely wait to take the clothes off of me. I know you like the back of my goddamn hand. So why her? Do you know her?"

Michael stares back at you. "Yes."

"How?" You grit your teeth.

"Through her husband. He's the co-owner of–"

"I don't give a shit." You brush him off. "Just like you don't care. I don't care." You fix the front of your dress to spill much more cleavage. "And I'm going to go back out there, and I'm going to just–" You loosen your earrings, straining a weak smile back at Michael, "going to accidentally drop my earrings in front of Santino, and then hopefully, he'll give me the same look he did that night, except this time he'll take me into the residence and he'll fuck me till I'm screaming his name!"

[the-darklings]

“You really have no clue who I am?” “You’d think the confused looks and blank stare would have answered that for you.” Santi / Dori!V

⤫ prompt: “You really have no clue who I am?” “You’d think the confused looks and blank stare would have answered that for you.”

⤫ pairing: santino d’antonio x v (coa)

⤫ warnings: does sad count?

⤫ word count: 974

You hate the way he watches you when he thinks you can can’t see him.

How his expression softens, then saddens. He looks at you with more than eyes, speaks to you with more than just words. It often feels like you’re having two different conversations when you do talk.

He, apparently, looks to you with six years worth of memories. You speak to him like you’ve known him for a month.

Because you have.

There is nothing there. Like a half-forgotten thought that’s hanging at the back of your mind, suspended. You can almost grasp that weight but every time you try only migraines follow.

But you prefer them to the fits. To the numbing terror and lack of understanding. To brief, jarring glimpses into agony so terrible you can only scream like a wounded animal despite not recalling any of it properly.

A sneering, hateful man and water.

So much water your lungs ache from the memory of it.

“Cara mia?”

You haven’t realised how tightly you’ve been gripping his hand.

The man by the name of Santino—money, Italian brashness, and ego—looks up at you with vivid green eyes.

Something about those eyes is familiar. Something about them...

Maybe that’s why you wander out of your bed in the middle of the night in search for him. Why he has taken to sleeping in the next room so he can reach you quicker when you wake up howling.

“It’s nothing.”

Something passes over the planes of his face; a story of different emotions. Those round features make you think cruelty as much as kindness. Danger as much as security.

“You really have no clue who I am, do you?” he questions, his voice low, his expression guarded.

Your brows knit as you press your bare toes into the ground beneath you. You’re not sure why you’re still holding onto him. Why he’s letting you. Why the first, gut reaction is always to find him. Why his counting helps when you don’t even know who he is to you. He’s been evasive every time you’ve asked.

When you asked old man Winston what happened and why you can’t remember anything, he gave you a seemingly simple reply.

You were shot saving the life of someone you love.

“You’d think the confused looks and blank stare would have answered that for you,” you snip back, still raw from your nightmare, his secretive but heated stares. “I don’t remember, okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be her.”

The woman he knows, the woman he sees when he looks at you. You’re not her. You’re not sure you know who you are, much less who she was.

Santino says nothing. He bends over, his free hand grabbing the covers and pulling them back. Focused. Deliberately avoiding your probing stare.

You let go of his hand, your fingers slipping free but don’t fail to notice how his fingers flex in the absence of yours. Swallowing, you lay back down, wrapping your arms around yourself. His face goes taut at the gesture, straining.

It forces a question out of you, “What am I to you?”

He goes still. It’s brief, merely a second, but you notice it all the same.

His jaw clenches, his brows a harsh line, and your fingers twitch. For a second you have to fight back the urge to reach out and smooth that grumpy line. It feels like that bizarre, hollow sense of almost knowing.

“My friend.”

“You’re lying.”

His eyes finally latch onto yours in the half-dark room. Shadows move over his frame and the shape of him is familiar, too.

Sucking a deep breath, you ask him something that’s been on your mind for a while, “Did I love you?”

Winston’s vague implication. Santino’s care. His desperation to not let anything slip out but he’s awful at hiding his emotions. In fact, he’s an open book to you.

He smiles but it’s miserable. Like a warped, disfigured thing that shouldn’t even pass for a smile.

He pulls the covers over you, tucking them around you.

His so close you can smell him. Watching his face reveals nothing though.

Santino blinks, pausing with his arms still on either side of you. He’s hesitating and you wonder why.

“Hm, it would make me happy to think that you did, bella,” he admits softly, something leaden in his tone that thickens his words. The subtle emotion there only makes a lump form in your throat, and you almost regret your curiosity. “But in truth, I do not know.”

He’s sad.

You wonder if he realises that.

His perfect mask of arrogance and self-reassurance stays but he’s frayed around the edges and—

You grab his hand when he pulls back. His palm is large, his fingers long, and the heat of his skin sends a pleasant hum up your arm.

“You could have lied,” you whisper, tightening your hold. “Placed that expectation on me.”

Why didn’t you?

It’s unspoken but the Italian’s lips twitch regardless. Like he understands your meaning perfectly with so very few words. He lifts your joined hands, lowering his head to press the softest of kisses against your knuckles. He lingers there, clearly savouring it, and your heart kicks against your ribcage. His hot breath is like lava on your skin.

“I have waited for you for a long time, cara mia,” he admits smoothly, a slight smile blooming once more. No matter how brittle. “And I can wait longer.”

He places your hand back against your stomach, his thumb scraping against your inner wrist for a second. He’s a thief. A thief and a liar because he steals these moments without realising it and...

And—

“Sleep well, cara.”

He heads towards the door and something, something—

It swells inside of you, boiling, spilling—

“Santi.”

He stops dead.

[xxlovingfandomsxx]

Ill Timed Confessions

Paring: OC! V x Santino D’Antonio

Warnings: death, gunshot wound, nothing but pain 😭

Word Count: 1,429 

A/N: This is an AU for the ending of chapter 13 of one of the most amazing stories, called Children of Ares written by the talented @the-darklings​ If you haven’t read COA yet, you really should, it’s a masterpiece. But anyway, I’m sorry for the pain that you’re probably going to experience from this and I hope you enjoy the ride, I guess? 

Clara races to the Continental, her lungs aching for air and her limbs screaming for rest be damned. Ares’ words still running through her head, he loves you, gives her another burst of speed as she finally lays her eyes on those familiar doors.

Clara runs straight through the lobby where she spots Charon who manages to get out the word lounge before she starts barreling towards her destination, a feeling of unease and worry flow through her as she pushes herself to run like her life depended on it.

I’m coming grumpy, hold on

Clara repeats her mantra over and over until she sees the warm and welcoming light of the lounge. She’s finally reached the top of the stairs when she hears Winston’s wary voice “Johnathan… just walk away” 

At that moment, Clara realizes that no matter what Winston said, no matter what anyone said or did, he won't stop.

John can't stop, she knows that now, she’s always known that he won’t ever stop, he's too determined to place a bullet between Santino’s eyes. Time stops as she comes to a decision, the finality settling deep in her gut, a gentle calmness washes through her body as she slides down the banister.

“Yeah Johnathan,” Santino starts, in a mocking tone, “Just walk-” 

BANG

A harsh quiet fills the room, a sudden unexpected stillness that has left the three men utterly speechless as they watch the scene unfold before them with looks of terror and complete shock.

Clara stumbles a bit as she tries to grasp onto the table for balance. She clutches onto the wound as she looks towards Santino, his normal expression of a cool, arrogant heir gone, an expression of pure terror replacing it.

Clara reaches out for his face, smoothing out his furrowed eyebrows, “I told you I’d come for you” She gives him a weak smile as she finally collapses, her injuries and fatigue finally catching up with her.

Multiple things happen at once, Santino reacts the fastest, jumping out of his seat to get to her. Winston struggling to keep his composure in check, John standing absolutely still, staring at the spot Clara was just occupying.

I shot her

Santino gently gathers her into his arms, “Amore, can you hear me? Open your eyes please? For me?” He watches as she struggles to open her eyes and sets her gaze on Santino’s face.

“Grumpy, are you alright?” She reaches for his face and he leans his cheek into her open palm, savoring the familiar burn of her touch. “Don’t worry about me cara mia, you just focus on keeping your eyes open, Hm?” 

He frantically looks around the room until eyes land on John, fury burning in his eyes. “Look at what you’ve done! This is all YOUR FAULT!” He starts to yell in sharp Italian while an unmoving John finally lays his eyes on Clara.

I shot her

Running footsteps can be heard barreling down the stairs as Ares and the Elites made their way onto the scene. Ares does a quick sweep of the room and lands her gaze on her boss yelling at John. She slowly moves her gaze unto the body in Santino’s arms and her eyes widen as she realizes who it is.

She slowly makes her way to them, her eyes burning and slowly filling with unshed tears. Clara notices her first, a small smile on her face as she sees Ares inching her way towards them. 

Clara struggles to lift her hands to speak to Ares, Santino stopping his yelling to look in the same direction as her. “Ares, grazie a Dio, I need your help… Clara was shot and she needs a doctor. You have to go find one before it's too late.”

“Grumpy-”

“No cara mia, try to stay still, we’ll get you help. What are you all just standing around for… GO GET HELP!” He yells in italian. 

“Santino, look at me… Please?” Santino finally gets a good look at Clara, eyes starting to fill with tears as he met her gaze, surprised to see a loving gaze staring back at him.

“I think I have to break another promise to you grumpy, I don't think I’m gonna make it to Paris with you” She let out a sigh, her breathing growing heavier as she continues to lose blood.

She gives him a teary smile “I don’t regret it, taking the bullet for you, so don’t beat yourself over it when I’m gone okay? Don’t do anything stupid either because I won’t be able to save you next time” She inhales deeply, Santino feels a few tears slip out and cascade down his cheek. 

“I promise to try not to do anything stupid amore mio” He grabs onto her hand laying against his cheek as he feels it starting to slip.

“Ares, you know how Santino manages to attract danger wherever he goes so you have to make sure he’s safe okay?” Ares manages to sign a weak I promise before she falls to her knees beside them, tears falling down her face as she gazes upon the closest thing she had to family, struggling to breathe.

“I left a letter for you in my room, Cha-Charon will be able to retrieve it for you” She inhales another sharp breath. Clara feels moisture on her cheeks, she gives her Santi a teary eyed smile.

“I know that you lo-love me grumpy,” He looks startled by the confession,”I don’t know how you managed to do it but you snuck your way into my he-heart” He lets out a shaky breath.

“What-what are you saying cara?” Clara sighs, “You’d have me be weak in front of you Santi?” She teased, he gave her a flash of a smile, “I-I,  I love you Santino D’Antonio… I’m sorry for the crappy timing.” They both let out a weak chuckle.

“I’m sorry it’s taken you so long to hear it.” He shakes his head, “I would’ve waited for a lifetime if it meant you would have said it. Oh amore mio, I-” He takes in a sharp breath, trying not to let the dam break, “Clara, te amo… Ti amo con tutto il cuore” He whispers the last part, making sure that only she heard it.

Clara smiles and feels a warm type of feeling spread through her chest, the feeling disappearing as fast as it spread leaving her feeling numb. Santino leans down and leaves a kiss on her forehead, gently bumping it against his own. 

She leaned forward a bit, her lips ghosting Santino's, he could feel her weak exhales this close. With his heart practically pounding out of his chest, he closes the distance and finally kisses the love of his life.

Santino feels a warmness spread throughout his body, along with a sense of relief, having learned that she did love him back. He pulled away reluctantly, cursing his lungs for their need of oxygen. 

He felt her hand slip from his face and frantically looked back into her eyes. "Amore?" The light in her eyes dimmed as she managed a final adoring smile, Santino watching in anguish as she exhales for the last time, slipping into death's cold embrace.

"Cara mia?" Santino shakes her once "Clara? Wake up, amore, wake up" He shakes her again, a bit more forcefully. "Clara don't leave me please don't leave me" Santino feels the dam break, all his unshed tears making their way down his face, falling onto her cheek.

He repeats it over and over, wake up, shaking and tears streaming down his face. Ares trying to pull him away, finally succumbing to her grief as she leans onto Santino's shoulder. 

Winston, still struggling with his emotions, makes his way over to them, gently grasping onto Santino's shoulder as his sobs grew louder. The finality of Clara's death sweeping through the room, not a dry eye in sight. 

John sitting himself onto a chair, tears in his eyes as he realizes he killed the only other person he ever cared about in the world, Charon finally making his way into the lounge, taking in the scene before him, a look of sadness crosses his face as he inches closer. 

Santino doesn't let go of Clara until she's safely placed on a gurney, attaching himself to Ares as his grief and anger take over and he dry heaves into her neck as they try to comfort each other, knowing full well that they may never recover from this devastating loss of their beautiful viper.

[fics-not-tragedies]

Is this what you wanted?

©

This fic is based on a request I got ages ago, that was submitted by @kollover24​​​and I hope this is what you had on your mind love!

SUMMARY: Santino sees how you sign to Ares that you’ve never had an orgasm and he tells you that he can easily resolve that issue. Words:  1725; Warnings: smut;

Readers tag list:

@spookier-than-u; @oreofenyloetyloamina; @derangedcupcake; @geostarr; @catsmieow; @wickedlangdon; @bodhi-black; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch; @fandom-lover-4; @mikaneonox; @drunkonyellow; @spadesandaces2342; @harrisongslimited; @hhighkey​; @lunilate; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login​; @sgt-morgan​; @coloursunlimited​; @childrenofthegun​; @weminiaturestrawberry​; @silverlambcaptain​; @scarletmoon83​; @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day​; @krazycags01​; @charlottebonnie​; @moonlit-raven-haven​; @girl-at-the-verge​; @boopdedoop​; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch​; @ladyreapermc​; @wifeofdarklordsworld​; @mysticfluffyness​; @zombiepandajfish​; @kollover24​; @greenmanalishi​; @persephonehemingway​; @lovelycarose​;

Santino D’Antonio was the kind of man who had to be good at everything. He was the kind of man who had to be better than every other person in the room. You were lucky to be one of the people he worked with on a daily basis. Of course it took ages for you two to gain each other’s trust, but when it finally happened you two formed an unusual type of friendship that lasted.

Now you, along with his other associates, were having drinks at one of the bars he owned. He disappeared for a moment with the rest of his henchmen, while you and Ares were left in the booth patiently waiting for his return.

“Quite a wild night, eh?” Ares signed to you sliding another glass full of whisky across the table in your direction.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that…” you signed back and accepted the drink lifting it up in the air and Ares clinged her glass with yours smiling widely.

“How’s your new guy?” She wiggled her eyebrows with the movements of her hands.

“My new guy?” You asked her, taking a long sip of the whisky, “Just like every previous one.”

“So… it’s not working this time too?” Ares scratched her forehead, “Have you tried that vibrator I recommended you?”

“I did…” you signed with a shrug and fiddled with the tumbler in your hands.

“And…?”

“And I still haven’t had an orgasm…”

“Is that true, bella?” You saw Santino emerge from behind where Ares was seated and you blushed furiously.

You wanted to sink into the ground knowing they were now looking at your flushed cheeks.

“Well… em… I-I…”

If you didn’t want the ground to open up and swallow you before, you definitely did now – your cheeks heated up again and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet eyes with neither of them.

“It’s late, we can deal with what’s left here alone. Go home, Ares” Santino signed to her and she mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ when she was walking away.

“Sorry… Do you want me to leave too?”

“No, please stay with me, bella…” he explained, while pouring himself another glass of whisky then sat close to you, your thighs pressed together, “Tell me… what you signed to Ares… was that true?”

“No… I mean… yes…” You sighed, getting frustrated.

“Oh” he breathed, eyebrows raised in shock.

“Don’t just say 'oh’, Santino. Oh, for fuck’s sake… I’m the one embarrassed here” you sighed, putting your face in your hands.

“But… haven’t you’ve done yourself? Using your hands, /bella? I bet you’ve done it” he tried to reassure you, his fingertips dancing on your naked arm.

The room was deadly silent.

“Wait… You mean that you’ve never, at all, had an orgasm? Not even one, bella?” Santino was shocked, this wasn’t a thing he was told about quite often.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, yes” you groaned, finally looking up at him with your red face.

“Why not?” He said, incredulously.

“Because there’s something not working properly in me apparently… It’s not like I haven’t tried!” You cried. That’s when you saw something change in his face, that wild sparkle visible in his eyes.

“I could try myself if you let me… I’ve never failed at satisfying my lover before, bella” he said, confidently.

“What makes you think you could do it?” You snorted, his arrogance was almost funny.

“I’m telling you I could. Potrei farlo con le dita, potrei farlo con la lingua e potrei farlo sicuramente con il mio cazzo!” You were used to hearing Santino say vulgar things, but you couldn’t help but get a little bit aroused at the thought of finally being able to understand what an orgasm feels like.

“Santino, just forget about it…” You took a sip from your glass, but he took it out of your hand and placed it back onto the table.

“It’ll happen tonight if you let me, bella” he challenged. Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to resist him.

“We can’t do it… not here… also… fuck you’re my friend after all” you sighed.

“Your friend, who is quite willing how good a woman can feel” he countered.

“For fuck’s sake, fine. Show me just how quickly Santino D’Antonio can make a woman cum with his Italian fingers.”

“Challenge accepted” he smirked.

Then you found yourself laying on your back, spread out across the table in the snug of his private booth, with your dress hitched up above your waist and your underwear thrown somewhere on the floor. Santino had lifted your legs up towards your shoulders and pinned them there with one hand, while his other hand worked on the task he had assigned to himself.

“Does that feel good, bella?” He asked stroking along your folds before dipping two fingers in and out of you at a reasonably slow pace.

“I don’t know, feels okay I guess…” you said, it didn’t feel much different to any of your other sexual encounters.

“What about now?” He asked, curling his fingers slightly more so they were dragging against you on the inside. Oh, well that was a little different.

“Yeah, a little better…” you sighed, it was getting better – still not enough to have you seeing stars.

Santino continued curling his fingers into you, ensuring he brushed against that spot inside you each time. It wasn’t until he brought his thumb up to press against your clit that you gasped in surprise, getting a little bit wetter around his fingers, “Hmmm, so you liked that then?”

“Yeah… it… it feels good” you sighed, “But I still don’t think it’s working how it should be, Santino.”

“Give it time, bella” he said softly.

After a couple more minutes, it felt good enough that you were moaning softly while he pressed his fingers into you before dragging them out at an excruciatingly slow but rough pace. This was definitely the most sexual gratification you had ever gotten… but you just didn’t know if you would reach your peak like this, feeling like you still needed more.

“Santino, this feels so good and I’m thinking maybe if you could…” you trailed off, annoyed at having to swallow your pride and ask your best friend to fuck you good and hard.

“Ask me…” he smirked, “Ask me properly, bella.”

“Santino, I think I could probably do it if you fucked me” you whined, moaning as his thumb circled against your clit just right.

“You really want that?” He asked, “Well, conveniently my cock is rock fucking hard for you, bella.”

And well… that did something to you, knowing that Santino D’Antonio himself was aroused by you. You groaned, grinding down against his hand, getting impatient.

“Cazzo” Santino moaned, watching you become even more desperate for an orgasm, “Yes, bella, I’ll fuck you.”

He let go of your leg, slipped his fingers out of you and made quick work of his suit pants, pulling them down just enough to free his aching erection. You whined at the loss of contact, but it was only seconds before he was pressing his hot member against your entrance and you were wrapping your legs around his waist to hold him close.  

“Oh f-fuck” you moaned, as he traced around your clit with the tip. It was like suddenly the room was filled with electricity, you were shaking with pleasure every time he slid his erection up and down your folds in an effort to tease you. It was right then, that you knew he would be the one to make you come eventually, “Stop teasing Santi, show me what you can do.”

His eyes darkened at your words and he slowly pushed into you, until he was filling you completely. He thrust in a few times before changing up the angle slightly, so every time he pushed into you he’d hit just the right spot – making you squirm around on the table and moan loudly.

“Tell me when you’re going to come, bella” he whispered against your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses into your skin.

He brought a hand in between your bodies so he could rub your clit to the same rhythm that he was drilling his hips into you. You were beginning to feel like something was building inside of you, like you were finally going to get some relief.

“Santi, oh fuck… keep going… don’t stop…” You begged, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to fucking stop until your coming around my cock, /bella” he whispered into your ear, pulling out all the stops to try to get you there.

Tt felt so fucking good. Santino fucking into you roughly, rubbing you in all the right ways and whispering dirty words into your ear. Maybe this is what you had needed all along, some arrogant twat with a reputation for overachieving to make your orgasm his mission. You would never admit it but you had never been more grateful for his existence.

“Santino, I think… oh yes, Santi… I think I’m gonna…” you squeezed your eyes shut, mouth falling open in pleasure. You had no idea if words were even coming out of your mouth; all you knew was that this was the best feeling in the world.

“Go on. Come for me /bella” he whispered, on a particularly hard thrust and that was it. Your muscles contracted and your clit throbbed as finally, pleasure exploded inside of you. You felt yourself getting wetter as the world around you went white and stars exploded, dancing behind your closed eyelids.

“Oh cazzo bella… cazzo” you heard Santino moaning, when you were finally able to make sense of what was happening around you. He pulled out slowly, cock still extremely hard but clearly a little dazed at what had just happened.

“Santino, that was… the best. The best ever” you groaned, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face, “I’m sorry, do you want to finish?”

“I just need a moment” he whispered.

You reached down to guide his erection back into you, even though you were still shivering through aftershocks, “Do you want to come or do you want to reflect on what you just did to me?” You giggled.

“I can definitely do both, bella” he moaned, setting himself a new rhythm.

[vostara]

hold me while you wait

pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)

blurb: “Just an annoying needle, pricking the back of her throat.”

word count: 3.1k+

title inspiration: hold me while you wait - lewis capaldi

[Hanahaki Disease AU] with a small, but significant twist. You might want to grab some tissues because this is, absolutely, the most upsetting thing I’ve written so far. This is not canon to hypnophobia, just involves the same couple!

warning: untethered angst, mentioned sexual content, and implied character death

*This work is cross-posted on AO3.

series masterlist

It starts with a touch, with Beatrix gently wrapping her fingers around Ares’ injured arm.  “Let me help you,” she says.

At first, Ares hesitates, unsure of the woman’s intentions.

For Beatrix is still a new addition to her routine, a new member that has much to prove. She may have already pledged her loyalty to Santino, but once she pledged loyalty to Lilith. Beatrix has broken her vows before, and there is no evidence affirming that she won’t do it again if she finds a better deal.

But the woman fights against her resistance, pulling the arm towards her. She sprays disinfectant on the long slice engraved into the skin of Ares’ forearm, before beginning to bandage the wound with a roll of gauze.

“Thanks for the help,” Beatrix says. “That guy really got the jump on me.” With the gauze secured in place, she pulls her hands away from the injured skin.

Her eyes lift to meet Ares and a moment of silence passes between them.

No problem, Ares signs.

~ ~ ~

Beatrix knows that she is being foolish, that her evolving emotional involvement with Ares will never lead to a happy ending. But against her better judgement, she allows herself to be a fool.

Ares is a distraction, one that she’s grown quite fond of. Nights of bruising kisses, breathless pants, and hushed moans are an irresponsibility that grants her a passage to escape the world she’s trapped in. With Ares, she escapes from the lingering suffocation of being under Eli’s control. She suspends her subconscious fear of failure, of the punishment Lilith would distribute whenever she had displeased her. Her thoughts replaced with a flood of colorful butterflies, fluttering in the depths of her mind. It’s dizzying and entrancing, but Beatrix becomes addicted to this feeling. When Ares coaxes her to let go, submit to break the coils building inside of her, she obeys without hesitation. And she’s overcome by the sensation of the exploding stars that consume her.

The beginning of the end is set into motion when Ares undoes the silk fabric restraining Beatrix’s wrists against the metal poles of the headboard. Beatrix looks up at the woman hovering above her, longing to leave more bruises against her swollen lips.

So she reaches towards Ares, pulling her as close as she can to her body. And she meets her lips with a kiss that’s too gentle, too passionate. It’s too revealing, but Beatrix allows her emotions to slip through the cracks, just this once. And she knows that this could be her downfall, that everything she has worked for could unravel. That growing fond of the someone could lead to her failure, her demise, her heartache and betrayal.

But she ignores that; she chooses to live within this moment. To allow herself a rare chance to experience how it feels to be with someone that she yearns for, even through the disguise of lust.

For life isn’t guaranteed beyond this night; for Ares’ lust could fade, leaving her empty and abandoned. Is it not better to grant herself one single indulgence? To quench her desire, her curiosity, before it can bloom.

~ ~ ~

Beatrix develops a cough.

It’s a tiny discomfort, really.

Just an annoying needle, pricking the back of her throat.

She tries to clear it. She gurgles warm salt water. She drinks green tea with honey. But nothing works, and as the weeks progress the cough gets worse.

Do you need a doctor? Ares asks.

Beatrix declines, claiming that it is nothing more than a simple cold. “Santino is stretching me thin,” she says. “I just need a chance to catch up on my sleep.”

It’s a lie.

She can sense that something is wrong, that something is trapped and growing inside of her. It’s something that she can’t dislodge, something she won’t be able to force out of her system.

Ares raises an eyebrow. No more nights together, then?

Beatrix laughs. She glances at their surroundings, making sure that no one is watching them. And with the confirmation that they are alone, she leans towards Ares. “We can still have our fun,” she whispers the words.

Their lips brush against each other.

And Ares smirks in response, before giving the woman a playful bite on her bottom lip.

~ ~ ~

Beatrix lurches forward into an upright position, retching and gasping for air.

The noise startles Ares, whom was sleeping beside her. She reaches a hand towards Beatrix, rubbing it against the curve of her spine.

Between coughs, the woman sputters out the words, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Ares frowns, but continues her soothing motions.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” Beatrix says. She pushes the covers away from her body and climbs out of the bed. The woman can sense Ares’ gaze latched onto her back and she turns to look at her.

You sure you okay? Ares asks.

“Yeah,” Beatrix nods. “I’m fine.”

As she enters the hotel bathroom, she closes the door behind her. Beatrix reaches for a glass cup placed beside the sink and twists the knob for cold water on the faucet. After filling her glass with the cool liquid, she takes a long sip, hoping to settle the aching pain engulfing her throat. Instead, she chokes and falls into another fit of coughing.

The glass slips between her fingers and cracks when it crashes against the marble floor.

But Beatrix doesn’t notice the broken glass, nor does she notice the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Her mind is focused solely on the excruciating pain, on her body’s desperate attempt to rid itself of whatever is lodged deep inside of her throat.

A splotch of crimson distorts the simplicity of the porcelain bowl of the sink.

And Beatrix breathes a sigh of relief and closes her eyes. The discomfort that had been etched into her throat has finally alleviated, giving her a sliver of momentary bliss. She gives herself a few moments to enjoy the sensation of breathing normally, before glancing down at the dark color tainting the simplicity of the pearl colored bathroom.

She expects to see blood.

But she sees a single rose petal.

It can’t be real; it’s impossible. There’s no way she could be so careless, so stupid. She’s just exhausted, overwhelmed by this persistent cough, by her weakened immune system. She must still be asleep, trapped in a nightmare, and she will wake up any moment, any minute now.

With a trembling hand, Beatrix reaches towards the object. And when she touches it, when her fingers brush against the soft material, she knows that she isn’t dreaming. She knows that her recklessness, her impulsive decision pursue desire has marked her. That her exit won’t be sudden, won’t be due to an unforeseen bullet to the back of the head. That, should she live long enough, her demise will be slow, painful. Utterly miserable.

There is a firm knock against the wooden door and Beatrix is quick to hide the petal inside of her fist. The door swings open, revealing Ares, concern etched into her features.

“Everything is fine,” Beatrix says, before the woman can question her. The answer is too quick, too panicked. And she knows that Ares can see right through her, but she does her best to keep herself composed.

~ ~ ~

One petal turns into two.

Three.

Four.

And soon, one petal coughed up at a time, doubles, multiplies.

Beatrix can barely breathe, can barely stand. She can’t focus on her meetings with Santino; she spends her time rushing to the bathroom to hurl petals into ceramic sinks. To flush the evidence down the porcelain bowls of toilets.

You are not getting better. Ares tells her.

But the woman brushes off the concern, insists that she’s fine.

Go to the doctor.

Beatrix sighs.

Please.

“Okay,” she says.

~ ~ ~

Beatrix already knows the diagnosis; she knows long before the words exit the doctor’s lips.

Hanahaki Diease.

Her love is unrequited.

And the petals growing inside of her lungs will eventually kill her, suffocate her.

“It’s progressing quickly,” the doctor says. “The disease has already consumed more than 50% of your lung capacity. I’m afraid that, even if you recover, there will be lingering damage.”

Beatrix stares at them, unable to muster the words that she needs to speak.

“Unfortunately,” they continue, “it’s too late for you to fall out of love with this person. Your first method of treatment is, of course, the natural route. However, you are running out of time, so you will need to act quickly. I suggest that you tell this person how you feel. Be direct, straight-forward about your feelings.

“If all goes well, and the feelings are mutual, you will be able to reverse the progression. It is important that you have this conversation face-to-face. This cure will only work if their requited feelings for you are stated out loud.”

A crack forms, breaking the composure that Beatrix had worked so hard to maintain. She laughs. It’s a desperate, defeated noise. One that does little to disguise the realization of her doom.

“I understand if you need time to process what I’m telling you,” the doctor says. “But we are working against the clock, your condition is accelerating faster than the typical—”

“She’s mute,” Beatrix interrupts.

“I see,” they say. The doctor pauses, taking a moment to type notes into Beatrix’s patient file. “Then your only alternative is surgery. It is an invasive, aggressive method. And in your current condition, it is quite dangerous. I would go in and cut away the infected ares, including the root of the disease. Right now, your chances of surviving the procedure is about 45%. The longer we wait, the higher your risk of death.”

The doctor stops speaking when Beatrix begins to cough.

When the woman pulls her face away from the palms of her hands, five rose petals are nestled against her skin.

“Hanahaki Disease isn’t contagious, but there is no sure way of knowing who is at risk of developing it,” the doctor continues. “On top of the risk for your life, there will be risk for the life of the person you love. Once I remove the root, your feelings for them will disappear. You will never be able to fall back in love with them. If this person happens to return your feelings, there is a possibility that they will also suffer from the disease.”

Beatrix frowns. “It would be impossible for me to save her?”

“This procedure is your only shot at survival, Miss Amsler. As your doctor, I advise you to act quickly,” they sigh. “But I cannot, in good conscience, recommend you do this without first having a discussion with this person. If they are in love with you, they may also need surgery in the future. It is best that you give them a proper warning, so they can be prepared if the worst case scenario does occur.”

“Thank you,” Beatrix says, “for the advice.”

When Ares inquires about the woman’s diagnosis, Beatrix tells her the truth. That an infection has manifested inside of her lungs. That the treatment is easy, simple. But she omits the fact that the easy cure for her illness is outside of her grasp. And the alternative is a path that she will not pursue.

~ ~ ~

It isn’t long before the severity of her condition becomes impossible to hide. Her health deteriorates at a rapid pace, and soon Beatrix is unable to stand for long periods of time. She frequently collapses, consumed by long fits of painful coughing. The woman is almost breathless, barely able to fill her lungs with the bare minimum of oxygen required to keep her going.

You need to go back to the doctor.

“No,” Beatrix says. “I already got my diagnosis.”

They were wrong. Ares says. You need new treatment.

The woman coughs and it’s exhausting. “Nothing will help,” she whispers.

Bullshit. Ares frowns. You are just stubborn.

When Beatrix attempts to respond, she unleashes a new onslaught of coughing. The pain is overwhelming and liquid pools in the corner of her eyes. She feels the petals sliding through her throat. They exit her body and land on the cold stone of the floor beneath her.

“It’s Hanahaki Disease,” Beatrix says.

Ares lowers herself to the ground, sitting in the empty space next to Beatrix. She places a hand beneath the woman’s chin, turning her head to look at her.

Who is the cause?

The truth almost slips out, but Beatrix quenches that instinct. Would it not be more kind, to hide the truth? To spare Ares; to save her from experiencing the guilt, the knowledge, of being the cause for her demise? And what if her affections are returned?

It would be selfish to tell Ares. Selfish to expose her heart, to force Ares to cope with the knowledge that their relationship was cursed from the very beginning. That there exists no solution in which they are both able to live and be together. Because even with the surgery, it would be pure torture for Beatrix to share her feelings, just to have them sliced away, ripped from the confines of her body. And the risk of condemning Ares to share the same fate was nothing more than cruelty.

It would not be fair.

No, it would not be kind.

Ares had not forced Beatrix into falling in love her. Beatrix had done so willingly, had been the pursuer, not the pursued.

Beatrix pulls her gaze away from Ares, focusing her sights on the stone. “Santino,” she says.

But had she not looked away, she would have seen it.

It was there, for just a split-second, painted and unconcealed in Ares’ features.

Heartbreak.

~ ~ ~

With Santino’s permission, Ares takes Beatrix away from their Camorra duties. The pair travel to Germany, locking themselves away inside of a cottage; one that is hidden within the woods of a rural town. It’s a location that Beatrix has escaped to before, a shelter she latched onto when she had first attempted to slip away from Lilith’s grasp.

Though Beatrix is embarrassed by her dependence on the woman, she is thankful that Ares was more than willing to help her. The lack of sufficient oxygen being supplied to her body leaves her weak, unable to do tasks that were once easy, thoughtless.

Just a few months ago, showering with Ares was energetic, fueled by intoxicating kisses and touches that ignited quickening heartbeats. Masked by the noise of running water, Beatrix had allowed herself to be more vocal with her sounds, had allowed Ares to fully experience each response she was coaxing from the woman. But now, bathing has simplified to the two woman laying together inside of the small bathtub.

Their routine is simple.

Ares starts the bath, ensuring that the water’s temperature is warm enough to soothe the aches permanently settled inside of Beatrix’s chest. When the water has filled the tub halfway, Ares carries Beatrix into the bathroom. She helps her undress, before undressing herself. The pair settle themselves into the water, and then Ares washes her hair, her body. She rubs her hands across the woman’s chest, hoping to alleviate some of the pain.

And in those moments, Ares wishes that she could switch places with Beatrix, that she could save her. That she could go back in time and convince Santino to ignore the woman, to refuse her offer to kill Angelo. A life where she hasn’t loved Beatrix, hasn’t known Beatrix, is a sacrifice she could make. A sacrifice she would willing make, if it meant there was a chance of Beatrix never developing this disease. Because she knows that she will never care for someone again, not in the way she’s cared for this woman. And to live the rest of her life without her embrace would be worse than torture from the cruelest of tormentors.

Beatrix leans back, pressing her skin against the woman’s chest.

Ares responds by wrapping her arms around her, embracing Beatrix in a hug that’s too intimate, too revealing of her buried emotions.

Everything is just too overwhelming. Beatrix knows that it’s no longer a matter of months or weeks, that her time left before the disease fully consumes her has been reduced to a number of days. But it’s painful to cry, an exhausting action. It eats away the little amount of air that she can hold in her crowded lungs.

“I lied,” Beatrix whispers.

Ares tightens her grip on the woman’s waist, urging her to continue.

“It was never Santino,” she admits. “It was you. I love you.”

Ares removes her hands from the woman, lifting them out of the water. I love you, she says. And then she pulls Beatrix back into her arms and nudges her nose against the skin of her delicate neck.

Beatrix is never able to speak again.

~ ~ ~

In her last moments, Ares is with her. An oxygen mask is secured in place, but it only delays the inevitable. Still, Beatrix cherishes these few extra moments, this tiny extension of time that she can spend with her lover. They lay together in the bed, covered by a mountain of emerald green blankets.

Even knowing her fate, there is nothing she would have changed. And given the chance, she would do it all over again. Because love was never something she thought she could experience; the concept of love has always felt like a gift that would never be granted. She has done terrible things to those who did not deserve it, has sealed the tragic fate of innocent people. And if this is her punishment, her only chance to repent, she accepts it.

And the truth is that she has been lucky, to survive the consequences of betraying Eli, to survive the wrath of Lilith. She has been lucky to live long, long beyond the day when Angelo had planted a bullet inside of her. Throughout her career, her life, she has come so close to embracing the hand of Death himself. Yet, she has always refused him, choosing to push him away and cling onto the robes of the Angel of Life. But the Angel is tired, tired of her relentless begging, her pleading for another day—just one more.

Beatrix accepts her fate, accepts the pain. And she does so, knowing that unlike her victims, she can spend her last moments within the embrace of someone who loves her, is devoted to her. That this is a luxury she doesn’t deserve, but has been gifted, regardless.

She wraps her fingers around the woman’s hand, pulling it close to her chest.

And she smiles, knowing that their love is requited and Ares will be safe.

a/n: hello! thank you for reading my work. if you like my content, please consider reblogging this piece. it is a simple action that truly helps a small author like me be seen by others. i do also appreciate any likes/comments you are willing to leave.

sorry for being a sad clown and writing this, but i had an idea and i was itching to write it. normal updates for hypnophobia will resume after i’ve settled into my new apartment! so you can expect that in the next 2-3 weeks, depending on when i’m able to set up wifi.

twitter: VostaraFics

[bluelolblue]

AAAAH THIS ONE I LOVE IT IT BROKE ME BUT HEALED ME 😭❤️‍🩹

QUOTES:

Santino, baby, please listen to John 😭🙏

"Stop and think for half a second. You have to go to the gas station, right now? You're addicted, Santino. I want to hear you say it."

First of all, I really love how this was described like IT'S REALLY GOOD IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN. Second, AAHHH Santino snapped 😭

A terrified looked flashed through Santino's eyes. He looked like he was about to break down, so John took a step forward. Too late, he realized that could make Santino feel even more cornered. Before he knew it, all of that nervous energy went straight into Santino's arm and he slapped him across the face.

Santino's react broke me because he stepped back and was expecting John to return the slap 💔

"Fanculo. Cosa ho fatto... [Fuck. What did I do...]" Santino backed away from him in horror like he expected to receive the same thing back tenfold.

Holy shit, John was struggling. The trauma this guy has 😞

"I'm not mad at you, l'm - l'm having a visceral reaction. Give me a second." He shut his eyes and breathed. Not this from Santino...there were so few places he felt safe. So few people he felt safe with... He felt himself going into fighting mode. Everything shutting down. Danger everywhere.

OMG GRABBED EACH OTHER BY THROAT 😭

It barely even stung, and they'd fought hand to hand before, grabbed each other by the throat.

AAHGGH MY HEARTTTTT THIS WAS SO SAD 😭💔

For an instant, he felt terribly alone, as if Santino didn't care for him in return. He was willing to hold himself back, but Santino couldn't do the same for him, never learned how.

OKAY HEART HEALED ❤️‍🩹 SOFT KISS ON THE CHEEK IM GONNA CRY

There was something against his cheek. Flutteringly light, like a butterfly. He opened his eyes and realized Santino was kissing him, right over the spot that he'd struck. John sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. They looked at each other, both terribly sad and not fully knowing what to do.

"You can slap me back if you want to." BRB IM GONNA CRY INTO MY PILLOW 😭 THIS WHOLE PART

"Please say something, John. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. How do I make this right? You can slap me back if you want."

"No. I don't," he said firmly, and pulled Santino into his arms.

"Then what do I do?" His head was buried in John's chest. All the anger of their fight was burned away and he started sobbing

"Hey, it's okay. You saw what I did there? I took a minute? Do that next time. I'Il show you. We'll work on it."

"But what about this time? I wish I could take it back."

AAAAH MY HUSBANDS LET'S ALL CRY TOGETHER 😭😭😭😭 and Santino saying that he doesn't deserve him... that he is violent... baby 😞

"Well...that's what happens when you hurt someone. You can't undo it." John knew that better than anybody. "But I forgive you." He sighed deeply through the heaviness in his lungs and rubbed Santino's back, waiting for him to grow calm again.

"I don't deserve you. l'm violent, John. You were just trying to help me..."

"I was," John said. "I'm still going to."

He clung to John, with his fists closed on the back of his shirt. "Okay. I won't go to the gas station. And.and I'1I do what you say next time I get angry. I don't ever want to hurt you again."

Santino is a small guy who sometimes can't control his anger and snaps, he literally can't hurt John 😭

"You couldn't hurt me, love. Even if you tried." Santino laughed too, a little bitterly. It was true - at the end of the day, John could take him in a fight. "But...hank you. It means a lot to me that you don't want to. I know that's not who you want to be."

I'm just gonna quote everything at this point but AAAAH Santino's stubbornness put to good use :3 💙

He pulled back to look John in the eyes, despite the mess that his face had become. It's not who I want to be. And I won't be, I absolutely refuse." There was his stubbornness, put to good use for once. John took in the sight with deep fondness.

NAUIU THIS MADE WANNA CRY AGAIN 😭 "my little saint" omgggg I'm not crying YOU ARE

"You're a good person, Santino."

He just shook his head. "If l'm a good person, you're a saint."

"And you're my little saint, getting better every day." John kissed the top of his head. "I'll guard you. Even from yourself."

The last part really hit the spots, that was so sad but in a good, you know what I mean 😭

Every time someone calls Santino "my little saint" I WANNA CRY BECAUSE HE IS A LITTLE SAINT C'MON 😭 IT'S SO WHOLESOME

I love this one so much, and this one actually made me feel everything (I mean like all of them, but this one is really on an emotional level) THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING THIS 💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤

HIIIIIIII

This randomly showed up in my head yesterday, perfect for the hurt/comfort hyperfixation that I've been feeling lately :P

Santino and John having an argument about idk what, but it got too much for Santino and when John got closer to him just because he actually wanted to calm him down because he realized how much upset Santino got, Santino slapped him.

And Santino immediately regrets it and starts crying and apologizing how he didn't mean to do that and wants to kiss John's burning cheek. And John hugs him and rubs his back, murmuring to him that it's okay, he is not mad or anything and lets him cry into his shoulder.

Brb crying 😭

Oh wow, this one is so sad 😭 I took it a little bit darker I think (as I usually do, hahaaa) because I think a slap like that would trigger John. He's been in too many fights, and Santino is normally one of the few people he can feel safe with, so it would actually be really upsetting for him and Santino has to comfort him too.

♥♥ A Slap From a Saint ♥♥

Disclaimer: Do not try this at home!! This is an abusive scenario. If someone puts hands on you in the heat of an argument, even just a slap, my advice would be to LEAVE. Don’t come back until they’ve had a lot of therapy, if at all.

TW: argument, slap, discussion of smoking and addiction

“Stop throwing out my fucking cigarettes! I TOLD you – “

“No. I’m not gonna let you smoke yourself to death.” Santino was rifling through his desk looking for any more, but he wasn’t going to find any. John had gotten to those too. The argument had started when Santino noticed them missing from the nightstand. Then he checked the bathroom cabinet and they were gone from there as well. If John had done his job well (and he thought he had), then Santino wouldn’t find any in the whole house. Granted, he would just buy more. But having to do that so urgently might at least force him to face the problem.

John just watched him while he slammed drawers shut. He looked tired. Worked up. He was frowning, with deep bags under his eyes. It had been a long day, John knew, and he was expecting a smoke when he got home. John felt really bad for him.

“You know, you have no right! It’s my business if I smoke or not. I can do what I want with my own health. You always fucking act like you know what’s best and I’m sick of it.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” John growled.

He glared, and grabbed his keys. “I’m going to the gas station.”

John stepped in his path. “Stop and think for half a second. You have to go to the gas station, right now? You’re addicted, Santino. I want to hear you say it.”

A terrified looked flashed through Santino’s eyes. He looked like he was about to break down, so John took a step forward. Too late, he realized that could make Santino feel even more cornered. Before he knew it, all of that nervous energy went straight into Santino’s arm and he slapped him across the face.

The room was suddenly very quiet.

“Fanculo. Cosa ho fatto… [Fuck. What did I do…]” Santino backed away from him in horror like he expected to receive the same thing back tenfold. Maybe because of the inadvertent, instinctual rage that had just hardened John’s features. “…I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m – I’m having a visceral reaction. Give me a second.” He shut his eyes and breathed. Not this from Santino…there were so few places he felt safe. So few people he felt safe with… He felt himself going into fighting mode. Everything shutting down. Danger everywhere. And just wave after wave of anger, physical anger. It demanded to be channeled into something so he channeled it into holding perfectly still, his muscles so frozen that they ached.

This was absurd. It’s just a slap. He didn’t even hit you. Don’t make this a whole thing. It barely even stung, and they’d fought hand to hand before, grabbed each other by the throat. But this was different. This wasn’t because they were enemies, or rivals over a contract. It was because Santino couldn’t see past his own rage long enough to hold back. To hold back like John was doing now, for his sake. For an instant, he felt terribly alone, as if Santino didn’t care for him in return. He was willing to hold himself back, but Santino couldn’t do the same for him, never learned how.

Never learned how. Never learned. Be patient with him.

There was something against his cheek. Flutteringly light, like a butterfly. He opened his eyes and realized Santino was kissing him, right over the spot that he’d struck. John sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. They looked at each other, both terribly sad and not fully knowing what to do.

“Please say something, John. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. How do I make this right? You can slap me back if you want.”

“No. I don’t,” he said firmly, and pulled Santino into his arms.

“Then what do I do?” His head was buried in John’s chest. All the anger of their fight was burned away and he started sobbing.

“Hey, it’s okay. You saw what I did there? I took a minute? Do that next time. I’ll show you. We’ll work on it.”

“But what about this time? I wish I could take it back.”

“Well…that’s what happens when you hurt someone. You can’t undo it.” John knew that better than anybody. “But I forgive you.” He sighed deeply through the heaviness in his lungs and rubbed Santino’s back, waiting for him to grow calm again.

“I don’t deserve you. I’m violent, John. You were just trying to help me…”

“I was,” John said. “I’m still going to.”

He clung to John, with his fists closed on the back of his shirt. “Okay. I won’t go to the gas station. And…and I’ll do what you say next time I get angry. I don’t ever want to hurt you again.”

He almost laughed at that. “You couldn’t hurt me, love. Even if you tried.” Santino laughed too, a little bitterly. It was true – at the end of the day, John could take him in a fight. “But…thank you. It means a lot to me that you don’t want to. I know that’s not who you want to be.”

He pulled back to look John in the eyes, despite the mess that his face had become. “It’s not who I want to be. And I won’t be, I absolutely refuse.” There was his stubbornness, put to good use for once. John took in the sight with deep fondness.

“You’re a good person, Santino.”

He just shook his head. “If I’m a good person, you’re a saint.”

“And you’re my little saint, getting better every day.” John kissed the top of his head. “I’ll guard you. Even from yourself.”

[keanureevesisbae]

“The road to our forever” - Chapter 9

Summary: John and Darcie are planning their wedding, but it comes with certain ups and downs.

John Wick x OFC Darcie

Word count: 2k

Warnings: none

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

At least Darcie had the human decency to leave John a note when she went out yesterday. He just took off, didn’t even bring his phone with him. He should’ve texted her at least where he was going, he bets she is worried sick about him.

John should’ve just told Darcie about his thoughts, but al he gave her were random bits and pieces of his past and now he regrets it. He feels so insanely guilty and when they were talking yesterday, he should’ve told her. All of it.

But no, he agreed on postponing this moment until after the wedding.

John hasn’t been here since the day he took off his wedding band. He stands in front of Helen’s tombstone in his wedding suit. It feels wrong to wear this, while visiting his first wife’s grave.

Though he knows he should go back to the venue, before anyone notices he is gone, he can’t seem to tear himself apart from the grave.

John used to come here a lot. He would talk to her, about all the things that went wrong, about who he had killed now and how. Helen never knew about his former life. The only thing he wanted was to make her happy and if she knew about that part of his life, he didn’t know whether or not she would stay with him.

With Darcie, he did better, not perfect, but better. Though he never planned on telling her this, he eventually did and he does believe that it made them a lot stronger. But he did her wrong, he knows that. John should’ve told her about his true feelings, he should’ve spilled it all.

John crouches down, so he can touch the cold stone with his hand. ‘Helen, honey,’ he whispers, ‘I screwed up. Fuck, I screwed up big time. I’m supposed to get married.’ He tells her about their fight yesterday and he wishes that she would say something to him. That he could hear her voice and that she tells him that it’s okay, because that’s what he needs to hear. It has been nearly seven years. He is allowed to move on, she specifically told him, but why is it so hard?

It’s Darcie he is going to marry. The love of his life. His second chance in life to get things all right now. She is the one that he wants to love forever and ever. She is going to be the mother of their kids, he knows that, he wants that.

‘I want to marry Darcie,’ he says, ‘I do, but what if I screw up? What if I already have? I mean, I walked away hours before the wedding, without telling her where I went. What kind of husband does that? God, I’m such a fucking idiot.’

‘No, you’re not.’

John freezes. He must’ve dreamed that, but when he looks over his shoulder, he realizes he is not dreaming.

Darcie is standing behind him. She’s beautiful. He has seen her twice now in her wedding dress, but right now, she looks like a bride with her make-up done with light pink touches and the headpiece in her hair.

John is such a moron for leaving the venue, for leaving her.

She walks up to him and places her hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re not a screw up, John,’ Darcie tells him, ‘nor are you a fucking idiot. Just… Next time you decide to take a quick trip somewhere before an important event, just bring your phone with you and maybe leave a note.’

John stands up. ‘I’m sorry.’ He clears his throat, to prevent himself from crying. ‘How did you even know I was here?’

‘At first I thought you were in Mill Neck,’ she tells him. ‘So Aurelio was going to take me there, but I realized we were going into the wrong direction. I figured you’d be with Helen.’

‘I never told you where she was buried.’

She shrugs.

John knows that Helen brought her here. He simply knows it deep down. And if that isn’t a sign that he should definitely marry her, that Helen would definitely approve this…

He so badly wants to touch Darcie right now, to simply hold her hand, but he can’t seem to do it. ‘Darcie, I didn’t mean to run away… I just…’ He looks at his shoes, unable to continue to talk.

‘I know,’ she tells him. ‘But at least you should’ve told someone where you were going. Not because I need to know where you are 24/7, but more because we are going to get married in a few hours and it takes two people for that. I’d prefer the other person being you, if I’m being honest.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, carefully looking up.

She shakes her head. ‘You go here often?’

‘Not anymore.’

‘But when you do, you talk to her?’

‘Most of the times, yeah,’ John admits, feeling a bit embarrassed, though he doesn’t know why. Out of all the people in the world, she is the one person who’d understand, he knows that.

John watches her crouching down in front of the tombstone. ‘Though I don’t know much about you, Helen,’ she says, ‘I do know that you made him happy. I can see it in the way his eyes start to sparkle when he does mention you. I believe that you took such good care of him and that you loved him with all your heart. I know for a fact that he took care of you when you were sick and that he loved you. John will always love you and I understand completely. I have seen pictures of the two of you and heard about a few things you did together and though I’ll never be you and never intend to be, I promise you that I’ll take good care of him.’ She places her hand on the tombstone. ‘And thank you for leading me to him. The rainbow truly helped.’

John looks up, only to see a bright rainbow. It hasn’t rained on this sunny day and he now knows for sure that it was Helen that lead his fiancée back to him.

He doesn’t want to cry, he promised himself he wouldn’t do that, but now he can’t help himself. Darcie stands up and wraps him up in a hug. ‘I’m not going to tell you, that you should’ve let me in,’ she whispers, as he pulls her body closer to his, ‘because it’s not my place to tell. What I am going to tell you is that if you don’t want to get married today, you don’t have to. We can postpone.’

John shakes his head. ‘No, that’s not what I want. What I want, is to marry you. I just… I just feel so stupid for not telling you all of this.’

‘Define this,’ she says.

‘My feelings. My doubts. My insecurities.’

Darcie grabs his wrist and looks at his watch. ‘We have around two hours before we get married,’ she says. ‘We have time.’

⟢⟡⟣

John doesn’t think he has ever spoken so much in one sitting, not even to Darcie. They drive back to their venue in his Mustang and even after they have parked the car in the lot, she keeps on listening to him. He told her about his work and how he fell in love with Helen. What he had to do to escape, to live his happily ever after. What happened with Iosev Tarasov after Helen passed. How Santino used his marker. How he was declared excommunicado.

He had managed to escape that entire world, so he could be with Helen, only to be part of that world after it all fell apart fight in front of him, when he was at his worst. Darcie knew quite a lot about this already, but not how he wanted to get out again after he met her.  He tells her about his final mission, what went wrong and how he got shot, but also that in the end, he got what he wanted.

A life with her.

But what she didn’t know was that ever since they got engaged, he was scared. He was this close of becoming a married man again, of making it more official and he thought he was going to lose her again. That she might realize someday that he is not the man she deserves. That one day she’d be taken away from him.

‘I hope you know that you deserve this second chance, John,’ she tells him, placing her hand on his, after he is done talking. ‘You are the kindest and bravest man I know. Of course I wished you told me all about this and your feelings before, so I could help you process it, but this is a lot. I understand you were too afraid to tell me this.’

He feels her soft squeeze in his hand, causing him to look up.

‘I still think that we need to be more open with one another and with we, I actually mean you.’

He nods. ‘I know and I agree.’

‘But all of this hasn’t changed anything about my feelings for you. I still love you, I still want to marry you and I still want to get to know you a lot more.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ he admits, followed by a laugh of disbelieve. ‘You still love me after all of this?’

‘Of course,’ she says without hesitating and he feels a bit better already. ‘And you know, right now we are going to get married, but when we leave for our honeymoon, we’re going to work on your openness, okay? Because I don’t want it to eat you up alive. Whenever there is something on your mind, whether it’s doubt, fear or love, I want to know about it.’

John nods. ‘I’ll work hard on this, I promise. And I also feel better already.’

She smiles. ‘Already working.’

He kisses her fingers. ‘I’m so insanely sorry, baby.’

‘Don’t be, just see this as a learning moment. We all need those from time to time. But we have less than five minutes before our wedding starts and according to Raye, we really need to hurry.’

John checks himself in the rearview mirror and when he thinks he looks okay, he gets out. Since Darcie knows him way too well, she stays seated and he walks around the car and opens the door for her. Together they rush to the gate and he sees that everyone who takes part of the wedding is already there, waiting for them.

‘Well, mister Mustang, you sure know how to make a wedding a little more adventurous.’

Before he can even feel the slightest bit guilty, Darcie tells Raye in a stern voice: ‘Don’t.’ She turns to her father and says: ‘Dad, listen, I know you were set on giving me away, but… I feel like I should walk with John. I’ll tell you all about it later, but you’ve gotta trust me on this one, okay?.’

For a second John thinks Christian is going to be mad at her or him, but he nods and gives her a kiss on her cheek. ‘I totally understand, munchkin. Jennie, you still want to walk alone down the aisle, or can I walk with you?’

‘Mister Angel, you can always walk with me,’ Jennie laughs. She looks at us, just to be sure. ‘You two are all okay?’

‘More than okay.’ John looks at Darcie and pulls her closer to his frame. ‘I’m sorry to all of you, for worrying everyone. It wasn’t my intention.’

‘We’ll talk about it later,’ Aurelio says. ‘First, the two of you need to get married.’

Taglist: @toomanystoriessolittletime​ / @flhorah​ / @allie1804-fan​ / @cynic-spirit​ / @raven-black102​

[easton-jagger]

Rock ’n Roll Wild Child Easton Jagger Seen with Mystery Woman After Performance in LA

Easton Jagger, son of famed The Rolling Stones frontman Mick Jagger, was spotted this evening with a new woman on his arm. If you’re thinking she looks familiar, you’d probably be right! The mystery brunette is none other than Adriana Santino, who built her fame and following from the reality show Brentwood Elite. The new couple were seen hastily exiting his sold out show at the Forum, quickly rushing to their car before speeding away. We wonder where it is that they’re in such a rush to go. Home together, maybe? ;) We’ll keep you updated on any and all news surrounding our new favorite couple, #Eastiana. Hm. We’ll work on the name so that we have it figured out before the lovebirds are spotted again!

*

She was waiting for him backstage after the final blackout. Two encores later, he was finally able to exit the stage for good. A cocky smile spread across his lips as he enveloped her in his arms, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. All for show. “Ready to go, baby?” he asked, nodding his head towards the door. He took her hand in his and led the way.

They were immediately assaulted with a million flashes of light; cameras going off in every direction, seemingly surrounding them.

“Easton, Easton! Over here!” the voices chanted, almost blending together. “Tell us about your new girlfriend. What’s her name? When did you start seeing each other? Smile!” Somewhere behind them, he heard the frantic screams of fans who had apparently just spotted him leaving the venue. A tight surge of anxiety shot down his spine. This was more than he had expected, but his manager had told them he’d called in enough tips that Easton and Adriana’s faces would be plastered over every gossip rag known to man. Easton was beginning to realize he shouldn’t underestimate Eric, and that when he says he’s going to do something, he’s going to put in one-hundred and ten percent effort.

“Don’t say anything,” Easton muttered just loud enough for Adriana to hear him as he pushed past the crowd of paparazzi that was currently blocking them from their getaway car.

His bodyguard Rick finally made it to the door of the blacked out SUV, threatening the lives of more than a few paparazzi along the way. He yanked the door open and ushered them in, Easton allowing Adriana to slide in first. The silence in the car was deafening compared to the chaos outside, his ears pulsing with the remnants of desperate screams and shouts of the people just on the other side of the door.

“Jesus,” he breathed out, finally allowing his body to relax against the seat. His head slumped to the side, and he smiled lazily at Adriana, the exhaustion from putting on an energy filled show finally catching up to him. “You okay?”

She nodded, a tinge of a manic smile teasing the corner of her lips. “It was kind of fun,” she admitted softly, like it was a secret. It kind of was, actually. Their secret. He’d found out her secret, and agreed to help her keep it one. A friend helping a friend.

He hummed softly before laying across the seat, resting his head in her lap. Her hands immediately went to his hair, and she scrunched her nose at what Easton guessed was the discovery that his wild curls were drenched in sweat from dancing and singing under the stage lights for hours. He smiled, laughing a little. “Will you paint my nails when we get home?” he asked, glancing down at the pink, chipped polish that was peeling off his short nails. “I need a fresh coat. Also, wine?” he pondered for a moment before deciding, “Maybe the nails first.”

She joined in his laughter, still carding her fingers through his hair despite the fact that he desperately needed a shower. “Of course. We’ll make it a proper slumber party.”

Easton grinned, humming an affirmative as he let his eyes shut. The ghost of a smile still graced his lips as he allowed himself to drift off to the gentle motions of the car on the road, and the fingers in his hair.

[layce2015]

John Wick Chapter 2 (John Wick x Reader)

Chapter 3: You Want Me To Kill Gianna D'Antonio

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

The sun was rising by the time you, John and the dog made it to the city and inside of the Continental. You guys walked in and towards the front desk, where Charon was standing. "I'd like to see the manager." John said to Charon as he looks up at the two of you. He looked a bit shocked to see you two back. "How good to see you again so soon, Mr. and Mrs. Wick. Shall I announce you?" Charon asked. "Yes, please." John said then he turns to you.

"I need you to wait here, okay?" He said to you and you nod at him. "Okay." You replied. He leans down and kissed your cheek just as you kiss his cheek then he leaves, the dog sitting by your side. "C'mon buddy. Let's go sit down." You said to the dog then you look up at Charon and nod at him. He nods back then picks up the phone while you and the dog go to a couch and sit down. "Mr. Wick is on his way to see you, sir." Charon said on the phone then hangs up.

"Impeccable. Put these into circulation." Winston said to this older gentleman after he looks at these coins. He places them inside the case a servant was holding out to him when John walks in. "Where is he?" John asked Winston as he takes a sip of his drink. Then Winston and the man stand up from their chairs and shake hands. "Thank you, my friend. Beautiful work. Beautiful." Winston said to the man and he walks away, leaving Winston and John alone.

"What are you doing, Jonathan?" Winston asked John. "He burned my house down." John said to him. "You rejected his marker. You're lucky he stopped there." Winston said to him then he shakes his head as he looks John over. "What the hell were you thinking, giving a marker to a man like Santino D'Antonio?" He asked. "It was the only way I could get out." John replied. "Oh. You call this out? What did you think was gonna happen? What did you expect? Huh? Did you really think this day was never going to come? Hmm?" Winston asked him then he sits back down, not taking his eyes off of John.

"What does he want you to do?" asked Winston. "I didn't ask. I just said no." John replied as he sits down on the chair across from Winston. "Two rules that cannot be broken, Jonathan. No blood on continental grounds, and every marker must be honored. Now, while my judgment comes in the form of excommunicado, the high table demand a more severe outcome if their traditions are refused." Winston replied. "I have no choice?" John asked.

"You dishonor the marker, you die. You kill the holder of the marker, you die. You run, you die. This is what you agreed to, Jonathan. Do what the man asks. Be free. Then, if you want to go after him, burn his house down, be my guest. But until then..." Winston said as John looks down then back over at Winston. "Rules." He said and Winston nods. "Exactly. Rules. Without them, we'd live with the animals." Winston said.

You were sitting on the couch and scratching the dog's ear when you look up and see John walking back in. You stand up and walk over to him but you could tell on his face that the talk didn't go as planned. "You have to go through with it, don't you?" You said to him. John looks you in the eyes and nods and you let out a sigh as John turns to Charon. "Do you board?" John asked him. "I'm sorry to say, sir, but this facility does not." Charon said. "I'll stay here with him." You said and John looks at you. "Just...promise me, you'll come back when you're done talking to that asshole." You said and he nods at you.

"And don't worry, Mr. Wick. I will accept the responsibility of watching over her, should you wish." Charon said and John looks over at him and nods. "Appreciate that." John said then he looks back at you. "I'll be back later." He said and you nod. "Be careful." You said to him. "I will." He said and he kisses you, lightly, on the lips and then walks out while you watch him leave, the dog whining next to you

"Does he have a name, ma'am?" Charon asked you, referring to the dog. "No. We...haven't agreed on one yet." You said as you look back at Charon then he leads you to a room for you to stay in.

Later, John comes up to the museum and enters inside of it. But at one point, a woman with short hair, Ares, stops him and she begins to pat him down. She runs her hands over his arms and legs and, at one point, she snaked her arm between his legs and placed her hand on his butt. He looks at her as if to say is that necessary? But she shrugs and looks at him like it had to be done before she pulls her arm back and steps aside to let him through.

He walks into the art room, with large paintings inside, where Santino was sitting on a bench. "This was my father's collection. I see little more than just paint on canvas, of course. But I do find myself here." Santino said, gesturing to the paintings, as John walks in front of him. "Please." Santino said, gesturing to the seat next to him. John stares at him for a moment then goes to take the seat.

"I didn't want to do this, John. Had you stayed retired, I would have respected it." Santino said then he looks at John and noticed something. "Look at you. You're thinkin' about it, aren't you? You're counting exits, guards...Could you get to me in time? How would you do it, I wonder? That woman's pen? His cane? Maybe his glasses?" Santino asked as he points out the objects. "My hands." John replied in a growl.

"Ah. How exciting. Yet, you know you cannot, can you? I told you I needed that guy, the way you are looking at me right now. I needed the boogeyman. I needed John Wick." Santino said, smiling. "Just tell me what you want." John said, slightly annoyed. "I want you to kill my sister." Santino replied and John looks at him, confused. "Why?" He asked Santino.

"There are 12 seats at the high table. Camorra, mafia, and Ndrangheta. The Chinese, the Russian. When my father died...He willed his seat to her. She represents Camorra now. And I can't help but wonder what I might accomplish in her instead." Santino said. "You want me to kill Gianna D'Antonio?" John asked. "I could never do it. She is my blood. I still love her." Santino said. "It can't be done." John states. "She's in Rome for her coronation. You will take the catacombs in..." Santino starts to explain but John talks over him.

"It doesn't matter where she is." said John. "That's why I need the ghost, lo Spettro, John Wick. That's why I need you. Do this for me, and your marker is honored. What say you?" Santino asked John. John glares at him then gets up from the seat and walks away from him. "Never one to waste words." Santino mumbles as John walks out of the room and out of the museum.

John goes to a large bank and goes up to the man at the desk. "Fifty-nine, zero, 3.5." John said. The man takes him into this vault and pulls out a large case for him. John opens it and pulls out another suit just as the clerk walks away then he pulls out the fake bottom of the case, revealing some coins and a gun. He stares at it and he begins to shake with anger, he couldn't believe he was pulled back into this...again!

All he wanted was to spend a quiet normal life with you but it looks like that's gonna be on hold alittle longer. He slams his fist down on the table and let's out a scream of frustration before he calms down.

Later, he walks out of the vault now in his suit and starts to leave and head back to the Continental, so that he can talk to you. "Happy hunting, Mr. Wick." the clerk said, making John stop. John turns to him and nods and heads out.

"Sooo...he wants you to kill his sister just so he can have her job?" You asked John once he finished telling you about his meeting with Santino. Both of you in the spare room. He nods at this and you let out a quick breath. "Wow...that's...not gonna lie...that's fucked up." You said. "Yeah...and I have to go to Rome tonight. And then I will be done with this." He said and you look up at him. You sighed then nodded at him. "Okay, well...I'll go get ready." You said and he looks at you.

"No, I need you to stay here." He said and you give him a confused look. "I'm not staying here." You argued. "Yes, you are. I need to have a peace of mind, knowing you are safe." John said and you scoff at this. "Oh, but I have to wait around here, and worry about you, while you're halfway across the world killing a woman, who might have hundreds of guards around her?" You asked him. "It's better this way." He said but you shake your head.

"No, I'm not sitting on the sidelines and worry to death about whether you're coming back alive or not. It wasn't just your house that burned down, John. It was mine too. It was our home. It was a home I'd hoped we would spend the rest of our lives in, a home where we could raise a family. But...it's gone." You said, your voice shaking every now and then, while John gives you a look that says I'm sorry. "I want to help you, John. You're all that I have left." You said then a bark breaks through and you look over at the dog as he had his head raised up at you two, looking at you. 

You smiled at him and said. "Yes, you too, buddy." Then the dog lowers his head down on the floor then you look back at John. "You need me, John." You said. John hesitates at first but, seeing the look in your eyes, he reluctantly agrees. He knew when your mind was set on something, you couldn't be talked out of it. “Alright. But you have to stay by my side and do exactly as I say. If it gets too chaotic, you run...no exceptions.” He said, firmly, and you look up at him. The two of you share a look, having a silent conversation, and then you nod. 

He gives you a small smile then both of you embrace each other and enjoy this quiet moment between you two before you guys had to leave for Rome.

"Welcome to the Continental of Rome." A woman greets you and John once you two enter the very large and elegant hotel and walk up to the front desk. "How might I be of assistance?" she asked. "We'd like a room." John replied to the woman then he places a couple of those coins on the desks and push it towards her. She takes it and puts it away when a voice calls out. "Jonathan!"

You and John turn around and see a well-dressed older man walking towards you two. "Julius." John greets and the two men walk over to each other and handshake. "Ciao. Nice to see you." Julius said then he looks over at you. "And who might this pretty lady be?" He asked and you hold your hand out to him as John said. "This is (y/n), my wife."

"Ah." Julius said and you smiled. "Nice to meet you." You said to him. "Likewise." Julius said then he gestures to some chairs and the three of you sit down. Then he looks at John for a moment. "I fail to recall the last time you were in Rome. And here I'd heard you had retired." He said. "I had." John said then Julius looks at you then back to John. "Does she know about...?" Julius started to ask but John nodded. "Yes, she does." John replied. 

"Then humor me with but one question. Are you here for the Pope?" Julius asked John. "No." John replied. "All right, then." Julius said then he digs into his pocket and pulls out a room key and holds it out to John. "One of our finest rooms." He said and John takes the key. "Thanks." John said. "And enjoy your stay." Julius said and you and John nod at him.

The next day it was a big day as John takes you to this building and the two of you started to get ready for this mission. Both of you went to this man who had the maps of the D'Antonio estate and the ruins that ran under it. Then the man showed you a map of the temple and the catacombs that ran underneath it and then he showed you two the modern blueprints of the place. 

Fascinating. you thought as you and John looked over the maps. Once it was done, the man hands you two the keys to the catacombs and John gives him five coins.

Next, the two of you went to a tailor to at least make a suit for you two. You were shocked that you would be getting a new set of clothes but if you were gonna be John's back-up, might as well look good doing it. They measured John and asked him how he wanted the suit and he would answer them, quickly, like he's done this multiple times before.

You were a bit nervous as you really didn't know anything about this kind've stuff but once they started to measure you and question on how you wanted your suit, John was there and helped you choose.

Then the tailor showed you two some bullet proof vest that they made. They demonstrate that the bullets wouldn't penetrate you but the impact would still hurt. How reassuring....You thought as the tailor shows you the vest. John asks him if he could do a rush order and the man said that yes he was able to do that. And he asked where to take the clothes and John tells him to take it to the hotel.

Last stop was the armory, which the walls were covered with guns. You thought your dad and your grandpa had lots of guns but if they saw this, they would be pretty jealous. The man there explains each gun while John tries them out, both the big guns and the little ones. You only tried the handheld guns, as you felt more comfortable with those than the bigger guns. 

Then the guy showed you some knives and the two of you looked them over. The man looks at you and smirks as he holds up a finger to you. "I've also have the perfect weapon for you." He said and he pulls out a case then opens it, revealing a black woven bracelet with a silver buckle at the top. You look at it, confused, until he pushes the buttons on both sides of the buckle and a knife sticks out at the end. "Wow." You whispered, impressed.

(Pic below)

"It's called a Paraclaw Knife Bracelet. Now this is for safety measures as requested by Mr. Wick." The man said to you and you smirk then look up at John, who gives a small smile back to you. Once you two were done looking over the weapons, John requested that the weapons you two picked out would be delivered to the hotel.

That night, at the hotel, you were looking over yourself in the mirror in the bathroom. All of the weapons and the suits arrived and you were trying on your new suit. It consisted of a dark colored blouse, black high waisted pants, a black blazer jacket, and low heeled ankle boots. The bullet proof vest was underneath your blouse. The crazy thing was that these clothes fitted you perfectly, they weren't too tight or too loose. They were just right.

(A/N: little side note, if you have long hair, your hair will either be up in a ponytail or in a bun whichever you prefer. But if you have short hair, don't worry about it. Good? Good!)

You walked out of the bathroom and you see John putting on his new suit, which was just solid black all around. Black dress shirt, black tie, black dress pants, black jacket and black shoes. 

You smiled then walked up to the bed to see all the weapons splayed out. You looked them over, nervously, when John walks over to you. "You ready?" He asked before you let out a heavy sigh. "As I'll ever be." You replied and all of you loaded up the weapons. You had a gun holster in your jacket so you put one of the handheld guns in it then you grabbed a knife and tucked it in your boot and you grabbed that knife bracelet and put it on.

John was also putting couple of guns in his belt holster then be packed the much bigger guns in a large bag. Once you two were done, he picks up the bag and carries it then the two of you head out of the hotel.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Persephone | John Wick x Reader (Three)

Words: 3132

A/N: Usual JW-verse violence, mention of being drugged

Previously: John Wick, an ex-hitman on the run from seemingly everyone in the Underworld, teams up with the Bowery King to take down the High Table that controls it. To do that, they need more allies. You, an assassin known as Persephone, were rumored to be held captive by the Instructor, having lost your memory five years ago. Wick sets out to retrieve you and help you regain your memories in order to aid them in their fight. A bond starts to form the more you train and familiarize yourself with Wick. A shadow from your past plans to drag you back in.

-

In the Underworld, not everything was digital. It seemed that information was safer in either a physical form behind guards and vaults or kept in memories of the need-to-know people, giving you and John extra work on tracing information. To take down a network, you need to cut the right wiring or it’ll electrocute you.

First off, you look at the power source. There’s the Elder who sits above the High Table, then the High Table members with a variable power of their own. There were people like Santino that would even kill their own family to be a member.

Twelve seats in the council. Twelve crime lords.

The judgement that the Adjudicator, the chancellor and representative of the High Table council, served was a testament to how much power they were given. It was to show everyone what the High Table can do. Go against the rules and there will be punishment. Swear fealty to the Table, present your serving hands, the punishment for going against them would be having those hands pierced through. Gave seven bullets to an excommunicado assassin? Seven slashes for you. Housing said excommunicado in your establishment? Business is now allowed in the Continental.

Where the hell do you start? Where do you find the right allies in a world of criminals? Practically every assassin around the world jumped at the chance to kill John Wick when his bounty was sent out.

You were worried for him. You thought it was best to lay low and build yourselves up before taking on the High Table, but it seemed after he was forced out of his retirement, he couldn’t keep still. He had a drive for vengeance that wouldn’t rest until the threat was dealt with and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

You ended up working on several projects at a time, which wasn’t good for your focus, but at least there was still something to keep you busy when you were stuck on one of them. The Bowery King’s people, or the Bowery boys, were helpful in getting the supplies that you needed and even tested some of the prototypes.

Given that the services offered to the high-profile assassins of the Underworld were off limits, you worked to provide tools in any way you can. You even made a bulletproof vest for John’s dog, though you didn’t tell John that. He had mentioned that an old acquaintance of his, Sofia, who runs the Continental in Morocco, had bulletproof vests for both of her dogs, so you thought it was a nice extra something, even adding a pattern that was similar to John’s suit at the front.

There were tactical vests and weapons modulations that you drew up as well as of various blades designed for quickness, efficiency, and precision, which would compliment your special project that you were saving for last. They weren’t the best, but they could still do the job.

You were pouring over a few blueprints of gun models that you were considering on upgrading when John knocked on your door. “It’s me,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice, especially after a long day of tinkering. “You know you don’t have to knock, right?” you told him, putting the prints down as he opened the door.

His dog rushed to your side, panting happily. You patted your lap and allowed him to jump up, snuggling comfortably against you. There was a soft look in John’s eyes as he looked at the two of you before shaking himself out of it.

“The others said we had to knock before coming in,” John said, pointing at the door.

You nodded, scratching behind his dog’s ear. “Yeah, they do, but not you. You don’t have to.”

The implication on the level of trust that you had on him made his walls crumble down again, but he didn’t let himself smile. There was business to attend to. It doesn’t help when a strand of hair kept falling on your face and all he wanted to do was tuck it behind your ear and cup your face and- 

When John continued to be silent, you continued, “Anyways, we’re heading out?”

“Yeah,” was all he said.

“Um, okay. I’ll get my stuff and meet you at the entrance.”

He was about the reply, but stopped and nodded before walking away. You exchanged a look with his dog who was used to his behavior then jumped off your lap to follow his human. You sighed gathering your blueprints and stored them away, grabbing two of your prototypes and a slim utility belt.

You had thought that John would have left without you, but there he was, quietly talking to his dog by the entrance of one of the Soup Kitchen’s underground tunnels. You were dressed in a practical dark outfit the belt around your waist, hidden by your black leather jacket. You leaned down to hug John’s dog goodbye, planting a kiss on his flat head and booped his nose with a finger. John stood up, sending his dog away and turned to you.

“Ready?” he asked, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

Nothing gets by the Bowery King and his people. The benefits of having him as an ally was the fact that he built his empire from the bottom and existed as its own entity. The High Table did not like that they had no complete hold on them and wanted him to swear fealty. His punishment for helping John was unjust in his eyes, seeing it as a display of the High Table’s arrogance.

The Bowery King had eyes and ears everywhere and had the advantage of anonymity to an extent. It was only a matter of time until he heard of the Instructor’s people looking for you.

You needed to get back into your apartment for your things and hopefully something that will jog your memory, maybe a clue of what the Instructor had planned for you. The two of you were currently waiting out in an old apartment in the middle of renovation. John stood nearest to the window, keeping an eye on the people going in and out of the building across the street.

You could tell there was something that John wanted to ask you, but instead, he said, “You didn’t kill everyone.”

You stared down at your boots with a sigh. “She ordered my parents to be killed. A selected few knew of it, was sent to carry out that task. I didn’t find out ‘til later after countless missions that I’ve done, the people that I’ve trained with, I didn’t see what was happening around me.”

“I knew the Instructor,” John said, his eyes still trained on observing the building’s activities, “she left the Director after some time training under her. Her goals were ambitious, but her execution was something the Director always criticized her on. Things didn’t turn out the way she wanted, but she did made you, whether you like it or not.”

“I suppose so,” you said.

You were aware of John’s connection to the Director, but to hear him talk about the Instructor in that perspective, you wondered how it felt like when an old colleague walks into your office to assassinate you. You suppose you were going to find out, given the situation. The Instructor didn’t talk much about her past and while she had trained, abused, and apparently favored you, you never knew what brought her to creating the program.

John’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar face. He gestured with a finger for you to come over, stepping aside so you could see. Marion had walked out of the building, heading towards the bus station where the last sighting of you and John were, having purposely drawing attention before losing them again. Once Marion left, a man and a couple stood near the entrance, their eyes scanning the area as they pretended to do menial tasks. One was on his phone facing left while the couple conversed facing the opposite direction in an angle.

“The blonde woman is Yuri and the dark haired man with her is Beck. They work better as a team, but their weaknesses show when they’re separated,” you found yourself saying, snippets of memories from training flashed through your mind like a camera shutter until it organized into a library of books and filing cabinets that you could sort through. “The other man on the phone is Victor. He’s a good shot, but his right knee is busted from an injury during a mission. He usually does ground work or long distance.”

“Back entrance?”

“Fire exits off on the sides, more secluded areas.”

“Fire escape?”

“They’re well-maintained except the left side that has a rusted ladder.”

“Room?”

“Near the front of the building. Windows facing the alleyway on the left. All of the wide windows were semi-blocked by strategically placed furniture until inspection. Fourth floor.”

“Okay, let’s go.” John took out a pocket sized metal device from the duffle bag and hid it in the corner, setting the timer before heading out with you close behind.

It wasn’t going to be a simple walk in. John insisted on going with you to the building, an argument filled with frustration and long pauses of stubborn silence and staredowns.

You walked ahead of him as the two of you made your way across the street with street lamps and the moon as a source of light. You instinctively grabbed John’s hand and pulled him closer to you. There were people who were willing to please the High Table and killing John Wick was the way to go. You weren’t much of a shield, as he was taller than you, but it was the thought that counts, so John followed your lead.

A businessman carrying a suitcase walked purposely forward, his body language giving away his next action. Your hidden blade shot out from under your sleeve and jabbed him in the armpit. You pull John with you as he staggered back.

“Can I have one?” John asked, his fingers tapping your wrist where the hidden blade was strapped to.

“Sure.”

Victor was already walking towards you as you approached. You flashed him a smile, striding forward and pushed him into the alleyway. John watched your back, looking out for Yuri and Beck as you rammed your foot on Victor’s right knee. He gritted his teeth in pain, trying to pull out his handgun before you hoisted yourself onto his hunched figure, wrapping your legs around his neck and used your weight and momentum to knock him down. You yanked his dominant hand away from his gun and pulled yourself up with your hidden blade drawn and stabbed his throat.

The gurgling noise was familiar to you now with the countless times that you dreamed of that night when you killed Sasha. You couldn’t get yourself to be emotionless towards it like how you used to, but you weren’t sure if you’d want to be that person anymore.

John reemerged into the alleyway, his hair disheveled and small blood spatter on his suit. He nodded over to you, helping you drag Victor’s body to a hidden corner of the alley. You took a moment to collect yourself then surveyed the area.

The ladder of the fire escape was dodgy, the edges rusty and the paint chipping and crumbling away. John pulled the ladder down, rust and paint shedding off of the metal as it lowered with a clang. He tested the durability with his weight, lifting himself up from the bottom rung causing it to groan.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go through the front door?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean,” you grimaced, hands on hips as you looked up at the fire escape, “kinda wanted to avoid running into more people. It’s not really my style, but…”

-

The elevator ride seemed slower than you remembered, smelling like cigarettes, sweat, and cleaning solution. You sighed, turning to John who was silently taking inventory of the weapons the both of you had, the possible escape routes if the fire escape didn’t work, estimating the amount of people that could be waiting for the both of you.

“Couldn’t take the stairs?” John asked.

“It conserves energy,” you defended, fixing his jacket and his hair. John watched you in amusement as you began to rub the blood spatter from his cheek with one hand while the other was playing with a soft lock of hair. “Besides, they won’t kill me. They’ll kill you, John.”

“You’re protecting me?”

You shrugged, pulling away but remained in front of him. “Someone has to.”

The elevator stopped at the third floor, the doors slid open, allowing two people in. They stood there without pressing a floor button and waited until the doors closed. You grabbed a throwing knife from your utility built, twirling it around your fingers until the elevator started moving again. One of the men whipped out a gun and went to shoot at you. John held his bulletproof jacket out and shielded you before wrestling the gun out of the man’s hands.

The other man approached you, but you were ready as you stabbed him in the chest. He grunted, pulling it out and throwing it on the floor. He grabbed your arms tightly to restrict your movements and pushed you against the doors as the elevator jolted onto the fourth floor. You kneed him in the groin and got your hidden blade out, getting him in the gut and wherever you could reach.

The doors opened again, making you fall backwards with the now bleeding man landing on top of you and using his weight to slam you down. The impact on your head made your vision blurred, and it didn’t help when he slammed your head down for a second time, making your ears ring. Your eyes vaguely seeing him pull an object from his jacket that triggered something in you.

The assassins that you’ve trained with, the ones that were sent to kill your family and those who worked to erase those events from existing, were scattered across New York. Some worked under the Italian mobs, few with the Chinese, and even the cartels. All of the ones that worked under the rivals of Tasarov were already killed by John Wick. There were a few groups that you had a working partnership with and was able to help you hunt the others down.

The more experienced assassins like Sasha were harder to track down, but they were the ones that the Instructor trusted with information the most. They were the ones that were tasked to put you down. It was at the docks out of all the places where they ambushed you. They held you down, they beat you near death, then injected you with some kind of drug. You weren’t sure if it was the mysterious liquid or the injuries that knocked you unconscious.

When you wake up, you were in an apartment in New York, not knowing who you were or who were the people standing in your room.

The man was yanked off of you by an furious John Wick who shot two bullets in his chest and one in his head. Luckily, there was a suppressor on his gun, as it would have alerted the innocent people on the floor. If they were all innocent. After what you’ve realized that the past five years you were surrounded by lies, you wouldn’t even be surprised if the whole fourth floor were composed of assassins tasked to watch you.

After the man was dealt with and dragged into an alcove with the other one, John held out a hand for you to take. You shook yourself out of your daze and grabbed it. He helped hoist you up and tucked his handgun away. His eyes scanned over you for injuries, his eyebrows furrowed in worry and concentration.

“I’m okay, just dizzy,” you assured him.

He nodded, his hand hovering by your back in case you stumbled as you headed to your old apartment. The old key you had didn’t work, but John was quick and used the throwing knife you dropped and jammed it into the keyhole. He drew his gun out and went in first, sticking his head around before walking fully inside. You followed behind with your blade at the ready.

The two of you inspected the rest of the apartment and came up empty. You went back to your room and rifled through your belongings, hoping they hadn’t touched anything valuable. John handed you the duffle bag and helped you pack with essentials and person items. You wondered what else they took from you.

“I’m going to double check Marion’s room for something real quick,” you told John, leaving the room before you could reply.

You rushed over to her room before the thought could escape you. It was something that you’ve wanted to see ever since you started getting your memories back. You hoped that going back to the apartment would help with your memories and while it somewhat worked, there was something that you hoped that Marion had taken, if it meant that it wasn’t lost forever.

Her room was quite bare with not much of a personal touch. You sifted around her closet and under her bed, stomping on the floorboards and going through her drawers. When you came out with nothing, you took a moment to calm yourself and took in the room. A dark object under one of the desk’s legs that was partially under the drawer stood out.

You kneel down and lift the desk, sliding the object out. It was something wrapped in a black cloth that Marion had been using to keep her desk balanced. As you unraveled the cloth, the sight of a shiny metal edge made your heart race.

You tossed the cloth away and held out the object out. It was your vorpal blade.

You walked out into the main area and peeked out of the window towards the building across the street where you and John were. John walked up behind you and showed you his watch before pulling you out of the line of sight. Just as expected, one shot rang out, followed by an explosion.

-

“What do you mean he blew up?” Marion demanded, standing on the side in the rail station.

“Arlo did as you told him. The room blew up as soon as he took the shot, taking him and the other three with him.”

“And the other five?”

Silence.

Marion threw her Nokia against the wall and screamed, the sound echoing off the walls.

-

Taglist:

@venusgothic

@weappreciatepower

@anita-e-taylor

@mikaneonox

@sparrowsparrow

A/N: Decided to write one of those “Previously on...”, which I haven’t done since my days on FF . net lol. I’m going to try and do this more, maybe add a summary for the first chap and a Previously on the second chap. Sorry if this chap is too wordy, but there’s stuff starting to go down. Lmk what you guys think. Thanks for reading!

[the-darklings]

Needy Santi?

“You look terrible.”

He does. 

The Albanians are dangerous and they are greedy. And assholes, too. Dealing with them is about as fun as pulling out teeth and adding some salt on the wound before squirting citrus juice on it as well.

A fucking misery as he mentally refers to it. 

But father’s order has been clear. 

Obtain a deal or don’t bother showing his face back home till he does. 

Giovanni D’Antonio doesn’t understand failure. Nor does he tolerate it. 

He hasn’t slept in two days and the usually immaculate appearance that he takes pride in—and rightfully so—has slipped greatly. 

His eyes lift to you as you enter the lounge, and he ignores the ache between his eyes as he takes you in. 

Beautiful. As always. Even if a bit windswept but it’s stormy outside and the warm glow of the fireplace warms your features as you frown at him, stepping closer. 

He puts out the cigarette he’s been stress smoking to empty his muddled mind and clears his throat as he stands. 

“The Albanians.”

It’s the best and only explanation he can offer and he notes how your expression slackens with understanding. Your lips turn downwards and you shrug off your coat, dropping it carelessly onto a chair as you walk up to him, still frowning. He, in turn, slides his hands into his pockets because he wants to brush back an unruly strand of hair behind your ear and knows that he can’t. Truthfully, right now, he’s not sure if has the mental strength to resist such things. Resist you. 

You stop before him and while he usually grins and lets you know just how breathtaking you look, he can’t quite force his tongue to work today. 

Your frown deepens. 

You look worried. And the thought that you might be concerned about him does make him feel—

“Why the hell does Giovanni want a deal with them?” 

There is a healthy amount of scorn in your question and his lips twitch—just barely. Oh, that flame. He adores it so. He leans closer and kisses your cheek in greeting instead, his fingers curving against your shoulder, and every rotation and twitch of his limbs is sluggish and listless. 

“It’s good to see you, cara mia,” he says as he pulls back but doesn’t step back entirely because your scent fills his lungs when he inhales and it’s…nice. “I have missed your company. It has been too long.”

Your eyes narrow, uneasy. “Santino it’s only been a week.”

Has it? It feels like an eternity since he’s last had you back home. Since he’s been able to touch you and let your warmth scorch its way up his veins. Destroying him, staining him, undoing something inside him and he cherishes that fucking high as much as he abhors it. 

Because you never stay and he’s always left craving more. You just…

Love someone else. 

“Santino,” you address him sternly, and there is worry there as your fingers lift to his face, cupping his cheek. “Are you okay? When was the last time you slept?”

His eyes flutter close at your touch and he leans into that reassuring warmth, into your scent, all other thoughts fleeing. 

Fuck—what—

What was he going to say? His head is ringing, all thoughts muddling together and all he can think of—

He leans closer to you, his arm slipping around your waist and face burrowing against the crook of your neck as he simply…rests. 

Just holds you to him. Leans into you. 

He waits for protest or a punch to his ribs but after several silent moments, your arms lift and wrap around him, making him almost sighs in relief. He hates himself the most at that moment because he selfishly doesn’t want this to end already. Is this what he needs to do? Be weak so that you would look at him with any semblance of care? 

Everyone else would use this chance to kick him down twice. Maybe spit on him for good measure, too. But you meet this weakness with comfort. With gentle fingers rubbing between his shoulder blades, erasing the tension there with startling ease. 

His grip on you tightens. 

“(Name).”

He doesn’t even know why he exhales your name. It just feels nice saying it. He loves the fact that he knows it when so few do. He felt smug about it once but now he just likes having the trust that comes with this piece of yourself. He has so very few of those. 

“You will get this deal, grumpy.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re Santino D’Antonio. The most annoying, brilliant, pompous asshole I know.”

“Mhm.”

Your grip on him tightens when your teasing words don’t get a reaction of his outrage like they usually would. 

You lean into him instead, your nose against the juncture of his neck and he almost shivers. This time when you speak your voice is softer, “I just wrapped up a job for Tarasov but if you need me, I’m free for the next two days.”

Usually, such an offer would thrill him. Any excuse to have you by his side. 

But your words—

Need. 

He has to fight back a bitter laugh. 

Need. Do you truly not realise just how much he needs you right fucking now? How he’ll need you tomorrow, a week, a year from now, and probably for the rest of his miserable goddamn life.  

“Stay,” is all he manages though, and hates the softness, the weakness, the vulnerability that makes him feel so fucking pathetic—

“Okay, Santi.” 

Followed by a comforting squeeze. 

His eyes close, his hand resting against the back of your neck and with that he allows himself to breathe. 

[thetasteoftheuniverse]

approximately 100 lgbt book recs

Lesbian

• Her Royal Highness by Rachel Hawkins

• Summer of Salt by Katrina Leno

• The Meaning of Birds by Jaye Robbin Brown

• Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour

• The Love & Lies of Rukhasana Ali by Sabina Khan

• Princess Princess Ever After by Katie O'Niell

• We Are Okay by Nina LaCour

• Annie on My Mind by Nancy Garden

• The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth

• Tell Me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi

• Wilder Girls by Rory Power

• Shatter the Sky by Rebecca Kim Wells

• Beautiful Dreamer

• Wild and Crooked by Leah Thomas

• The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite

• Just Juliet by Charlotte Reagan

• Bring Holly Home by A.E. Radley

• Strawberry Summer by Melissa Brayden

• Perfect Rhythm by Jae

• Who'd Have Thought by G. Benson

• Falling Hard by Jae

• The Brutal Truth by Lee Winter

• Ask, Tell by E.J. Noyes

• Poppy Jenkins by Clare Ashton

• Edge of Glory by Rachel Spangler

• My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Kabi Nagata and Jocelyne Allen

• Eating Life by Beth Burnett

• Keeping You a Secret by Julie Anne Peters

Gay

• What If It's Us? by Becky Albertalli

• Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

• I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

• We are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson

• Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

• Marco Impossible by Hannah Moskowitz

• Heartstopper by Alice Oseman

• Falling From The Sky by Nikki Godwin

• We Contain Multitudes by Sarah Henstra

• Brave Face by Shaun David Hutchinson

• The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried by Shaun David Hutchinson

• How to Repair a Mechanical Heart by J.C. Lillis

• Oz by Lily Morton

• Release by Patrick Ness

• The Best at It by Mail Pancholy

• How Not to Ask a Boy to Prom by S.J. Goslee

• The Music of What Happens by Bill Konigsberg

• Bloom by Kevin Panetta, Savanna Ganucheau

• At the Edge of the Universe by Shaun David Hutchinson

• More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera

• One Man Guy by Michael Barakiva

• The Five Stages of Andrew Brawley by Shaun David Hutchinson and Christine Larsen

• Something Like Summer by Jay Bell

• Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz (and the sequel!!)

• Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg

• Call Me by Your Name by André Aciman

• Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli by Becky Albertalli

• I'll Get There. It Better be Worth the Trip. by John Donovan

• Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan

• I Hope You Get This Message by Farah Naz Rishi

• The Gravity of Us by Phil Stamper

• The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

• History Is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

• Check, Please!: #Hockey by Ngozi Ukazu

• Hero by Perry Moore

• Geography Club by Brent Hartinger

• Don't Let me Go by J.H. Trumble

• Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List by Rachel Cohn, David Levithan

• Seven Summer Nights by Harper Fox

• Taproot by Keezy Young

• Ziggy, Stardust, and Me by James Brandon

• Sometime After Midnight by L. Phillips

• More Happy than Not by Adam Silvera

• Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez

• Proxy by Alex London

• The Vast Field of Ordinary by Nick Burd

Bisexual/Pansexual

• The Disasters by M.K. England

• The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli

• Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

• Less by Andrew Sean Greer

• They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

• Red, White, & Royal Blue by Casey McQuinston

• Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli

• Ramona Blue by Julie Murphy

• The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzie Lee

• You asked for Perfect by Laura Silverman

• Autoboyography by Christina Lauren

• Far From You by Tess Sharpe

• The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

• 5 Dares by Eli Easton

• Queen of Geek by Jen Wilde

• Not Otherwise Specified by Hannah Moskowitz

• Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

• Fake Out by Eden Finley

• Sunset Park by Santino Hassell

• Him by Sarina Bowen, Elle Kennedy

Transgender/Gender Identity

• George by Alex Gino

• I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver

• Coffee Boy by Austin Chant

• Amberlough by Lara Elena Donnelly

• None of the Above by I.W. Gregorio

• My Brother's Name is Jessica by John Boyne, Katy Finch

• Freakboy by Kristin Elizabeth Clark

• If I Was Your Girl by Meredith Russo

• Luna by Julie Anne Peters

• Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

• Beyond Magenta by Susan Kuklin

• Beautiful Music for Ugly Children by Kristin Cronn-Mills

• Refuse by Elliott DeLine

• Being Emily by Rachel Gold

Asexual/Aromantic

• Ball Caps and Khakis by Jo Roamsey

• Ace by Jack Byrne

• Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire

• How to be a Normal Person by T.J. Klune

• Let's Talk About Love by Claire Kann

• Guardian of the Dead by Karen Healey

• His Quiet Agent by Ada Maria Soto

• The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic

• Clariel by Garth Nix

• Blank Spaces by Cass Lennox