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HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN as ANAKIN SKYWALKER Revenge of the Sith (2005) | Dir. George Lucas

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John Wick Chapter Four (2023)

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The Falcon and The Winter Soldier 1.03 — "Power Broker"

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KEANU REEVES  as John Wick in John Wick: Chapter 2 (2017)

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DULCE PERICULUM. | CHAPTER XIV - DAY

my course is set for an uncharted sea.

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

full work

Daylight.

The ever-knowing reminder of yet another opportunity, yet another loop of the chronometer, and for some - another reminder of what they had to endure to get through to the night.

Against all odds, another day was rising in Roma.

The lazy hazes of the rising sun rays emanated through the sheer curtains - it had been early, too early to gather your thoughts properly in the aftermath of the night that dragged onto the early morning.

Sleep had not been on the forefront of your mind - nothing had mattered at the time besides the man underneath you. Strong hands grabbing onto your hips with fervor, his chest heaving with him grasping for air, his eyes filled with lust.

Breaths mixed in with alcohol, lips wrapped in his. Him taking control with his thrusts, unable to resist his urges, collapsing into bed after the cries of pleasure had echoed through the penthouse.

“Hai bisogno solo di me, amore.”

Maybe, just maybe he had been right, through his words uttered in ultimate need and throes of confession.

He just might have been all you needed, all along. He had certainly shown you, proven to you in more ways than one.

And, the best part of it all - the man you had shared the passionate memories with the night prior, had just happened to be laying right there next to you, the breathing source of warmth in the vast bed.

Something that he could not have given you, no matter how many times you had begged.

It was not often that you had woken up before him - but when you did, it was an opportunity not to be missed - just to admire, to cherish, to touch.

John had always left before the sunrise.

With a slow hand making its way over to his body across the crisp white sheets, you would revel in the luxury of letting your gaze travel all over him - dark hair tousled from your fingers, those green eyes usually filled with passion then closed, the barely-there crease between his brows still present even in his slumber. A remnant of the everlasting, yet quiet tension that seemed to just dwindle down with your touch.

John had never opened up to you this way.

The sheets pooling low on his hips, hanging loose on the sculpted plane of his chest that slowly rose and fell with his breathing - faint traces of you still remaining over his taut skin. A small mark on his collarbone, couple of faint nail marks over his shoulders where you had gripped too tight, not wanting to ever let go.

John had wanted to let go eventually.

A low mumble emanating from his throat, as the sunlight continued its relentless attack through the room, illuminating the intricately scattered furniture, making a lazy trail to your bed.

The sound of his voice still fresh in your mind - rough, urgent, irreverent. Craving only and only you, your name leaving his lips in a repeated mantra, the sinful tone laced in his breaths.

From beneath the sheets that smelled just like him, you would reach out gently to brush a strand of curly hair from his forehead, a feather-light touch not to wake him.

In the cruel and unforgiving world of choices that you had both shared, Santino d’Antonio had always been known to choose the fiery road. Even you could not deny that the power he wielded, the ambition he so cherished in himself pulled you into his orbit even closer, over the years.

Yet, you might have been the sole constant that led him to choose peace, quite more often than he otherwise would.

A gentle stirring of his body, the ghost of a smile etched on his lips as his eyes slowly opened to reveal the loving gaze.

“Buongiorno, mia cara.”

His morning voice rough like gravel, velvety thick with sleep - yet, his hands were awake.

His nimble fingers would reach, making their way from your jaw, neck and down on your shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps across your bare skin. Finally reaching their target as his hand wrapped around yours, lifting gently to land a kiss on your knuckles.

Those emerald green eyes always locked into yours, always piercingly gazing into your soul, reading through the remnants of your heart.

It had always been those eyes, that had lured you into the unknown. The enticing yet untamed darkness of the abyss. Into fire and ice, without a question or doubt instilled within you.

And, in that intimate moment of skin against skin, your palm resting on his sternum as he turned into you, his fingers trailing through your hair - you had decided quietly within yourself.

Into fire and ice, you would follow.

There was no hesitation as you pulled him in for a soft kiss, to which he greatly obliged, his hands staying on your skin where they had belonged even as he pulled back.

The slight flickering of his gaze to focus elsewhere, the faint trace of his brow furrowing - telltale signs of thoughts beginning to flood into his mind as his consciousness threw him responsibilities.

“You are thinking too much, Santino.”

“Forse,” he would reply, his eyes finding yours once more. “I only have a funeral to host.”

Pulling yourself closer into his embrace, your hand reveled in tracing through his curls.

“Most people mourn. You are strategizing.”

And in the moment of silence that followed, Santino did not deny it.

He instead propped himself up on one elbow, his hand cradling your cheek, then moving to run his fingers through your hair sprawled over the crisp white. Head on his pillow, you would look up with a curious gaze and your soft voice, to ask a question that had been swimming around in your mind for a while.

“How did Winston allow this?”

You could swear that his motions stopped for a brief moment, his eyes growing cold for a momentary second of vulnerability - one that he had hoped you would not dwell on for long.

If only he could tell you just how the cogs turned, just how the truth was concealed for decades. Just how beneath Winston’s bright eyes laid a broken father with no other choice given at a moment in time. How the one that you had looked for all those years - had been closer than you could have ever imagined.

Yet, it was not his truth to tell.

“The High Table looks into the palm of my hand,” he would answer, always confident in himself but perhaps a bit prematurely this time, his thumb lingering on your cheekbones - a motion too tender for the insinuations, the hidden meanings in his words. The blurred lines hiding in his tone, abstracting his mind and his voice.

“The vote has not happened yet, Santino - Winston abides by his rules like there is no tomorrow.”

A faint, knowing smile curved at the corner of his lips, dipping his head in reluctant agreement.

“He did not like it. But he knows better than to refuse me now.”

Growing increasingly curious, your brows furrowed in response, eyes narrowing just slightly. Fragments of words and whispers of memories trying to piece it together in your mind.

“No. He let you because he didn’t have a choice.”

That drew a breath from him - almost akin to a slight defeat yet quiet, controlled. Something flickered behind his eyes. Not guilt. Not remorse.

A short lived pause.

“No,” he said softly. “He didn’t.”

in his eyes, glints of recalling. Realization. Remembrance.

“Because, mia cara - choices were already made a long time ago.”

You want to ask. Words are stuck at the tip of your tongue, mind spiraling on his cryptic words, eyes locked into his. Trusting Santino had been a well-known reflex, one your body never denied - moments of quiet doubt passing away ever so smoothly as they always did with him, when his hand found the small of your back and pulled you in further into his embrace.

Dark curls draping over his forehead as his downward gaze met yours once more, looking for the glimmer of belief in your expression. All he had needed, was a fleeting sense of trust, just for this once - until the dams holding the sea of truths collapsed inevitably.

Just for this once.

Until the task had been complete.

“I will give him the room, amore. È tutto. He does the rest.”

“Bene,” you would let out with a smile forming on your lips, after getting lost in yet another kiss - the distraction fully welcome.

Many questions you wanted to ask, to get out of your chest, fluttered within you like stray birds - yet, you instead let yourself get engulfed in his warm embrace once again - for you were not sure that you wanted the answers.

And in those eternally breathless moments in countdown for the inevitable, unbeknownst to you - you chose to delay the unraveling.

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finishing up my first part of the series of the santino x reader x john wick fic EEK i have SO many ideas sketched out for part 2

always craving more of the italian sexiness santino exudes

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Una Piccola impresa meridionale - Riccardo Scamarcio

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Sebastian Stan for L'Officiel Malaysia photographed by Mathieu Rainaud

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THANK YOU FOR TAGGING MEE EEEKK @bluelolblue

i will never shut up about music

after hours deluxe is probably my ultimate favorite album ever i dont see anything topping that off

the vibes are immaculate

also i listen to some obscure atmospheric stuff when i write fics. plaza & the code are very underrated artists

tagginggggg @echo-three-one and @samatedeansbroccoli my old buddies hope you all are doing well <3

blank version:

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HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN as ANAKIN SKYWALKER Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith 2005, George Lucas

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my other half was you. for @dallaswinstons!

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The Fallen Angel (1847) by Alexandre Cabanel vs Anakin Skywalker: Revenge of the Sith (2005) Dir. George Lucas

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riccardo scamarcio

eden is west (2009)

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Do you have any specific scene with Santino that you really like? I mean, obviously, whenever he's on the screen, LMAO BUT do you have a favorite scene with him? :3

literally every scene im glued to the screen LOL

but im obsessed with his introduction - the way he walks into John's house, the tone of his voice and the persuasion, his goddamn EYES ugh. seriously they probably could not have done a better introduction to his character in a dark, real but veeery sexy way

TY FOR THE ASK this made me wanna watch it again

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John Wick + slicked back hair

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i literally live for ao3 comments so true that writers thrive off of comments <3