PETPET SANTINO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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PETPET SANTINO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(my art is used so pls don't come after me :( )
REBLOG: go to your blog and click the egg to see what hatches
I got Sonic the Hedgehog.
Sonic the fucking Hedgehog.
Maybe I cracked the egg too fast.
I got Rogue Titan gettin’ krunk. I was not disappointed.
OH MY GOD I GOD EREN IN TITAN FORM TWERKING
aHHHHH THIS IS WHAT I GOT IM sO HAPPY
>u> I wanna know
HOW RHOGGH
This isnt working for meeeeee
*you have to click on the egg on ur blog lol if anyone can’t get it to work
*Pokes at egg*
If this doesn’t work when it pops up in my place I will be SO UPSET!
What @godofalldemons said.
Nyeh!
REBLOG: go to your blog and click the egg to see what hatches
I got Sonic the Hedgehog.
Sonic the fucking Hedgehog.
Maybe I cracked the egg too fast.
I got Rogue Titan gettin’ krunk. I was not disappointed.
OH MY GOD I GOD EREN IN TITAN FORM TWERKING
aHHHHH THIS IS WHAT I GOT IM sO HAPPY
>u> I wanna know
HOW RHOGGH
This isnt working for meeeeee
*you have to click on the egg on ur blog lol if anyone can’t get it to work
*Pokes at egg*
If this doesn’t work when it pops up in my place I will be SO UPSET!
What @godofalldemons said.
Thinkin about santino and v at a Hozier concert.. him going all out and she’s trying to calm him down but is totally enjoying it
You better believe that Santino “Party Animal of the Underworld, Has VIP Lounge In Every Worthwhile Club Around The World, Puts On A Party Even While Being In Danger” D’Antonio would 100% take V to that Hozier concert and let LOOSE.
But just like he mentioned in the ‘reasons wretched and divine’ short, it would just be them two. It’s a surprise. She had no idea. And they just….enjoy themselves?? Just for the night, no one knows who they are or what they do. Lost in the crowd, they’re just two people, and Santino has become a bit of a fan since so he actually knows the lyrics this time and they dance and sing with the crowd, soaking in the atmosphere. Their arms are around each other, she’s breathless and he’s laughing because she’s laughing and he teases her mercilessly the entire time. She makes fun of his messy, dishevelled look that gives him a completely different - almost untamed - look. She’s so used to seeing him all prim and proper, always sporting a three-piece that’s custom-tailored to him and always haughty that this is different.
Oh, and when Jackie and Wilson comes on? They both look at each other at the same time and grin. They’re the calmest during that song, simply singing under their breaths while smiling the entire time and swaying in each other’s arms. She totally makes fun of his awful singing and dancing throughout the concert. For once, he doesn’t care about criticism because it comes from her (hence more teasing than insulting) and it makes her laugh like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
By the time the song finishes, his forehead rests lightly against hers and he soaks in the feeling, the moment, because he may never get another like it again.
i dont think i can get over the manager!V au because santino & v's love story is so heartbreaking and gut-wrenching skhrhsjs,, also i have so many questions. does santino's wife know about V? can you tell me more about her? did the high table choose her to be santi's wife or did he have to choose her? whats her dynamic with santino, does she dislike him as much as santi dislikes her? and what do you think will happen IF she ever meets V 😶? sorry for many questions 😅
Their love story makes me feel dead inside because everyone deserves to be happy but they’re all the furthest thing from it and i’m so 🙃🙃🙃
Okay so let’s go through it:
Does Santino’s wife know about V? Yes. She does. Anyone who knows anything about Santino knows that he wants/loves V (the answer depends on who you ask but they all know) because she’s been in his life for so long and Santino has never hidden his interest in her.
Can you tell me more about her? Did the high table choose her to be Santi’s wife or did he have to choose her? The High Table did choose her with Camorra Council. At first, every Head gets the choosing right to pick whoever they please. To encourage both loyalty and genuine devotion to the family etc. Santino obviously wanted V and spent years trying to get her out of her situation but without much success. Eventually, the pressure was starting to mount on him to get a move on. He still kept dragging his feet for ages (read: years) before he literally had no choice because he’s tried everything to free V. The wife herself is the daughter of one of Sicilian Mafia’s bosses. So ties to both Italian mafia and the High Table. I don’t think I need to go into it for you to understand why this was made into a match.
What’s her dynamic with Santino, does she dislike him as much as Santi dislikes her? She went into the marriage knowing there will never be love there. She saw it as a duty/business transaction due to how Santino has managed to make Camorra even more powerful since his ascent to power. Also, Santino straight up told her that he loves someone else and she is not who he wants, or ever will. The relationship is tense but polite…barely so. Santino is cold towards her but respects her enough. She is the same.
What do you think will happen IF she ever meets V? You might still see this in the AU’s canon lol. But…realistically this isn’t Helen/V situation. Wherein I can 100% see those two becoming friends and being an amazing duo of badass ladies that drive up Santino and John up the wall. The dynamic here would be vastly different. V is respectful even towards people she doesn’t particularly like so while she would be civil, always, I think it would be incredibly hard for her to not be in constant pain while in this woman’s presence. It hurts. This woman is with the man V loves. That man it took her years to let in and learn to love. Now, she can’t have that happiness. And it hurts so damn much.
God I've been scrolling so much it's going back in time when you were still in the progress of making chapter 7 eye-
i raise you needy!v
well raised and highkey!canon
timeline: post-Prague, pre-Naples by a few months
.
.
The call comes just past midnight.
Most of the time—correction, all of the time—he would ignore such a call. If someone is stupid enough to try and reach him at this hour, that's their business and mistake to make. Why should he care for stupidity of others?
Especially when he has urgent reports to read and prepare for a meeting tomorrow. He is to attend this meeting on his father's behalf due to his...slipping health.
There is a change in the air, Santino can detect it and taste it. He knows Gianna is the same. She's pulling her own strings and making her own preparations.
Camorra is on a brink of a revolution once again and he and his sister are at the helm of it.
However, only one name could ever distract him from his family—only one and he lowers his wine glass for upon spotting it.
(Name)
Dropping his pen on the documents carelessly, Santino picks up the phone at the second ring.
"Cara mia," he greets with a slight twitch of his lips and leans back in his leather seat. "So lovely to hear from you."
He tries to imagine you—wherever the Russian might have sent you away—and wonders what horizon you are observing. Outside, the bay of Naples glows in the pale moonlight through the partially opened balcony doors.
Silence greets him.
"Bella?"
A rattling, shallow breath echoes in his ear and his slight smile crumbles as he sits up, pressing the phone closer.
"Where are you?" he demands softly. "Are you injured?"
"I'm...fine."
You don't sound fine.
You're not fine.
But you were. You've been doing well. No relapses, slow but steady progress since Chicago. Fewer nightmares, more genuine smiles. He barely checks in with Winston anymore, and the last time he did has been as awkward and as stilted as all the times before it but necessary.
She's doing well. There was the Casablanca incident but it was harmless. She's stronger now. I think she's finally starting to let it go.
You are.
Casablanca has been a small setback—more worry that it was worth because you were fine. When he tracked you down, you had clung to him, arms around his shoulder and soft pants against his neck.
He had chewed out the manager who sat through it all with gritted teeth and pinched expression—apparently your newest friend, and he couldn't help but wonder how you always win loyalty so damn easily in a world where none is given.
Still, he's Camorra heir and she was a newly appointed manager who did not need an enemy. A smart woman if not a highly unpleasant one.
You had needed him though.
Didn't allow anyone else to touch you or help you, and through the uncomfortable roll of something he didn't dare to acknowledge as worry in his chest, shone something close to...happiness.
He's been hated, cursed, scorned.
Never needed—not genuinely. Not without deals or favours or expectations. Not with a sleepy smile and crinkling of eyes as he helped you to bed.
A vast difference to what he witnessed in Chicago.
An emptiness still but softer this time. More bearable.
Now though—
"Water?" he guesses, tense. "Is it getting bad again, cara?"
"Yes."
Santino is not quite sure which question you're responding to but it doesn't matter.
"Where are you?" he urges, trying to keep his tone calm. Patience, as you always remind him with a judicious grin, is not his strong point. "Tell me where you and I'll send Ares with the jet, amore. She can pick you up and you can stay with me for a few days, hm? Or New York, whichever you prefer."
Somewhere safe. Somewhere where this won't be used against you.
He feels like punching something. He should call the old man now, warn him. Winston has...something with you that Santino doesn't quite understand. It's an odd bond but you trust the man and Winston has proven that he...cares.
"No. Can you..." you breathe and he steps from behind the desk, marching towards the balcony. He needs fresh air—your voice— "Could you...just...stay on the phone with me, Santi?"
Santi.
He hates the fact that even now you calling him that makes lightness bloom in his chest.
Fuck, fuck.
He has a mountain of work to get through but your voice—
Tiny and scratchy with pain. He doesn't hear tears and feels selfishly grateful for it because he can't imagine not tearing the world apart to find you if he did. See with his own eyes that you will be fine. It's only been three weeks since he's last seen you but it feels like an eternity now.
"Of course, amore," he reassures and steps into the warm Italian night air, running his hand through his hair. He swallows, listening to your unsteady, slow breaths through the line. "Are you counting?"
A pause. "Yes."
"Ah, that's my girl," it slips out before he can control it, and he rushes ahead before you can comment, "Keep doing that, bella. Would you like me to talk?"
Another breath, steadier this time. "Please."
He's imagined plenty of scenarios in which you may use that word with him but none of them involving this damned pain.
He fucking hates it.
"My birthday is in a few months," he says conversationally, forcing the loftiness into his words, but his fingers keep flexing against the railing. He stares out towards the sea and wonders where in this wide, wicked world you are. How long it may take to reach you. After Tokyo, every time something goes wrong, he's always intimately aware of the particular disadvantage that is you still being on Tarasov's chain. "I am planning a party. Would you care to come? As my honour guest, of course. Perhaps my plus one as well, yes?"
He wants it.
That dream of you beside him.
One day soon you will be free of Tarasov and after that—
Oh, after that. He has every intention of offering you a place in his family, beside him.
His father's reign is coming to an end and one day he will sit at the very top.
The Camorra crown will sit on his head and he will spill all the blood needed to get it.
And when he's Head you will be free.
Even if it means shredding Viggo Tarasov and his family to pieces. Slowly. For all he's done.
Blood for blood.
"I would like that."
He leans over the railing, his fingers rubbing against his temple.
"Good, amore. How are you? Do you need anything?"
Because he never knows what to expect or what he can do to help with this.
It's uncomfortable and pitiful to admit his lack of know-how when it comes to these matters. He doesn't understand your demons, not really. He tries but fails most of the time.
Caring is exhausting. But it's you.
A muffled rustling, and then he hears your voice clearer like you're speaking right into the receiver, "Would you stay with me?" you half-ask and half-plead and it's like a kick to the chest. One of your blade between his ribs. Sinking deeper, deeper, deeper— "On the phone till I fall asleep. Please, Santi."
Fuck.
You are so very, very dangerous.
Special. Dear.
"You don't need to ask, (Name)."
He's only returning the favour, he reasons, for back when you stayed with him on the phone as he rang you drunk and in need of company. He's never had someone before he could trust with grief.
He's only returning the favour, he forces himself to repeat.
Over and over.
Like that might change the fact that you could ask him anything with that subdued need in your voice and he would give you everything.
v/santi, “you make me feel alive. for the first time ever, i feel like i can breathe” pls ma'am make me cry of joy
⤫ prompt: “You make me feel alive. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe.”
⤫ pairing: santino d’antonio + v
⤫ word count: 365
“Good morning.”
“Amore...”
His voice is scratchy, one side of his face still burrowed against the pillow.
You bite back a grin at his sleepy expression. Eyes half-lidded and lips parted, he breathes deeply, blinking up at you. Sun kisses over the lean expanse of his shoulder blades and you lean over, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder, too, propping your chin on it as you smile at him.
“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut. “Join me.”
“Tempting.”
His eyes crack open and he shifts slightly, making you lift your chin before he grabs you around the waist, tugging you to him.
Practically falling against him, you giggle, swatting at his shoulder and the smug, sleepy curl of his lips. He pulls you against him. His warm, soft lips laying a clumsy kiss against your collarbone, and you sigh.
You feel warm in a way that has little to do with his body heat or the balmy southern Italy climate.
His bed head is monstrous and you reach forward, twirling a few rebellious strands around your fingers. His arm around your waist constricts.
Santino’s features are relaxed, content, and you feel your expression soften as you peer at him.
You’re so—
“Hm, I love it when you smile like that, bella.”
Your brows knit at that. “How do you know I’m smiling?”
His eyes crack open and those bright, green eyes journey over your features. He doesn’t say anything in reply but that’s an answer in itself.
Oh.
Your fingers trail down his cheek. “It’s because you make me feel alive,” you whisper, your words fragile and you see his expression clear, growing more serious. “For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe.”
Here away from everything. Even if only for a few early hours of the morning. Here next to him, everything is calm. No shadows haunt you in the brightness of the sun that is him.
“You’re free.”
His voice is resolute and you lean forward to press a kiss against his lips. “I know.”
Your foreheads press together and you exhale shakily, savouring those words and the simple truth of them. “I know, Santi.”
V X SANTINO CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU PLEASE I WILL GIVE YOU MY LIVER AND MY BONE MARROW
“Wake up, stupido.”
He grunts, his eyes still closed.
“Santi, wake up, it’s late.”
Nothing.
Sighing in frustration, you shove him off your lap, watching with no small degree of satisfaction as he rolls face-first onto the ground. His pristine white shirt smears in the dirt and the grass and you smirk when he tries to punch you in the thigh with an angry scowl when he sits up.
Suppressing a laugh at his petulant pout, you give him a sweet smile. “You got a little something-something on your face there, princeling.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“You love me,” you correct him breezily and stand to your feet, stretching, before offering him your hand. He rubs his chin that indeed has a blade of grass stuck to his tanned skin and glares up at you. “Your life would be boring as dirt without me.”
He scoffs, but takes your hand, letting you hoist him up. The moment he’s back on his feet, he pinches your nose and you groan, kicking his ankle as you ignore his warm laugh. “Ah, ah, this is revenge for my shirt. It cost a pretty penny, fiore.”
Keep reading
“it’s because i’m so attractive isn’t it?” “i say this. and i cannot stress this enough. i find you completely repulsive.” X Hector ( ♥灬 3灬 ♥)
⤫ prompt: “It’s because I’m so attractive, isn’t it?” “I say this, and I cannot stress this enough, I find you completely repulsive.”
⤫ pairing: hector + v (coa)
⤫ word count: 591
Rolling a blade between your fingers, you circle each other.
The predator before you watches you with narrowed, silver-blue eyes that expertly track every twitch of your body.
“You’re cute when you’re so focused, sweetheart,” Hector drawls lazily, a ghost of a smirk lingering across his mouth. “Don’t strain yourself though.”
“Fuck off, Hector.”
Few loose strands of hair stick to his forehead and he drags his hand through them, readying himself. “I love it with you talk dirty to me.”
Rotating your shoulder blades, you arch an unimpressed eyebrow, licking your lower lip. “For how much shit you give Santino for being cocky, you’re far worse.”
His lips part but you throw a blade at his feet, sprinting towards him. You launch your body weight at him, your legs snapping around his waist to twist his body to the ground but Hector catches you in his hold, digging his heels into the training mat beneath you. Even with the added velocity of it being a run and jump, your body mass is not enough to knock him over.
Instead, his hands slide underneath your ass as he presses you closer.
“Hello, my lady.”
“Hector.”
You brace your palms against his broad chest, ignoring the twitch of his hard muscles under your tentative touch. The wings around his throat fill your sight and you lean back, trying to create some distance between you.
“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he says, his voice a rough caress. “We’ve been here before.”
“Yes,” you agree, your words sharp with irritation. “And you’ve gotten nowhere.”
Something sparks at the reminder, his eyes narrowing, and you ignore how his body feels pressed into yours. How a layer of sweat and pure fighter instinct have sharpened his already cutting features into something even more ferocious. How the way he holds you to him with such ease both makes your hackles rise but also ignites a nameless thing inside your gut.
He doesn’t like to lose. He never has. But neither do you.
“Yet you can’t stay away, huh?” he says and his fingers squeeze around you, pulling you flush against him. “It’s because I’m so attractive, isn’t it?”
Glaring, you reach over and sink your nails against the back of his neck, pulling him closer and his cockiness fades. A different emotion washes over those sharp features—one he doesn’t have enough time to pull away and hide from you.
“I say this, and I cannot stress this enough,” you bite out, irritated. “I find you completely repulsive. Now set me down.”
You release your grip on him.
He does the same.
But he doesn’t release you right away.
His large hands drag over your hips and waist, and you freeze under his deliberate touch. Your eyes snap to his as his hands halt on your waist, holding you to him. His eyes move deliberately over your body and your eyes meet at long last.
His full lips quirk upwards; a mockery of a smile.
He leans close, one of his hands gliding down your lower back, and you tense as his massive frame overwhelms every single one of your senses.
“One day, my lady,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your ear, his breath scorching against your sensitive skin. “I will have you beg for it. I bet you’re real cute when you do though.”
Your arm swings out but he catches it, grinning.
“One day.”
And then he drops your arm—and with one last taunting twitch of his mouth—leaves you standing there.
okay so I was showering and thought... hmMMMM can't V just end up with the Elder? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) also, hypothetically speaking, in an alternate universe, what IF the elder likes V, what do you think our dear Santi will do... i feel like such a clown for even talking about this 🤡
ANON
LISTEN. LOOK.
What could anyone do? The Elder is literally the highest power in JW universe (that we know of so far) there is. He stands above the twelve crime lords that make up the High Table. This is the dude who brought John to his command with a few sentences, who got him to do that, who has the power to remove any bounty on John’s head and wipe the Excommunicado order………..the amount of power this dude has is insane.
No one could do anything even if they wanted to. To be honest, this would the biggest potential power couple in COA. I mean is too extra to say they would basically rule the world from the shadows??? Not really.
Santino. I mean…I genuinely feel really bad for him because what could he even do?? With John, there is at least 50/50 chance, maybe even more when you take Tokyo/aftermath into consideration, and then it keeps shifting constantly. But unless V herself doesn’t feel anything for the Elder…for Santino it’s like falling into a hurricane knowing full well he won’t come back alive on the other side.
Santino if V chooses The Elder instead of him:
I feel so bad 4 him ahahdhshdhshfhhd
Reblog if you're queer, have ADHD, or hate the government.
Nobody needs to know which one.
The way I'm all 3 🙈🙈🙈🙈
But only 4 them ûwû
Why does Santino make me so happy???? He's crazy!!!!!!!
GOOBY GOOBER and Aurelio :DDDD
Chibii Santino for the soul,,,
Woop
i miss santinos dumb ass do u have any headcanons for him and v,,, (when and if ur free/want to. please delete this if it stresses u out or u dont want to!!) love u
BOY DO I HAVE SOME.
They did know each other for 6 years and made plenty of memories. So these aren’t even headcanons, really.
They have shared a bed on multiple occasions most notable being Naples, during the war with the Albanians, and Casablanca. He’s never tried to pass moves aside from his usual flirting but that’s also because they were in situations were nearness/comfort were more important.
She has played with his hair before. He’s very, very, very fond of it. Not only because he can let his guard down around her (which is something he doesn’t do with anyone else) but also because she brings him such comfort and being that close to her is a rarity so he savours it.
He likes trying her favourite things (food, hobbies) and she has found herself doing the same, though she often rolls her eyes at all the extravagant things he does.
He loves her scent. Her often leans into her simply because it’s familiar. Much like how she can easily pick him out on his cologne alone, especially whe he wears the scenes she has formulated for him.
A lot of the criminal underworld does actually think they’re sleeping together and using each other to rise to power. Their combined reputation of Viper/Shark precedes them for that reason.
They won Camorra the war against the Albanians together and have managed to forge them into allies instead.
She has him on speed dial. He’s no2 after Winston’s private line.
She’s hugged him several times. The only time she’s ever clung to him outright is when he found her at Casablanca and she was too broken up/drunk to actually walk so he had to carry her.
He’s sang to her before. Several times.
She fixes his tie often. He’s zipped up her dresses before.
Their second meeting was at a ball. He suggested a night of passion and she turned around and walked away with a polite farewell. 😌
He trusts her more than anyone. And has told her things he hasn’t told anyone before. She is easily the one person who knows him the best.
She’s called him “my Santi” before.
His last thought before John shot him was of her.
I stan this
I has John wick BRAINROT!!!!!!!!!