#Tommy Angelo/Sam Trapani

[wander-over-the-words]

ik you just got into it but: 🎶 for mafia 🤭?

Send me emoji(s) and I’ll write a drabble 🎶 Dancing Another instance of me being told to write a drabble and replying “word count who?” nrgnrgn This one got away from me a little, but it’s still short, so fuck it.  First Mafia fic. So. I hope it’s okay heh

The dancing - if you can even call it that - is not really planned and not really intentional.

It’s just that it’s the first time he sees Sam - really sees him, not just from across the room, not just surrounded by the other fellas, not just out of the corner of his eye as he’d driven through the streets of Lost Heaven, but really sees him - since the night at the farm, with the ambush and the shootout and the truck chase. When they’d gotten to the doc, Sam’s own assurance that he’d be okay had been the crowbar needed to wrench Tommy away from him.

The doc had worked his magic, but healing takes time, and so Sammy’s kinda shuffling as he enters Tommy’s apartment after hours, in the disguise of night. He and Tommy had put on tough facades when walking here from the car, like Sam’s here for business, not pleasure. Usually, they don’t go near each other’s places for their, ah, rendezvouses, but this ain’t like that.

The second the door shuts, Tommy’s switching on the radio to cover up any talking, and then he’s looking Sam up and down, taking in the way he can’t stand with his spine completely straight cause of his wound, the way he still winces when he moves. He’s already got half a bottle - courtesy of the Don - inside him to try and cope. He looks better than he did in the back of that truck, he’s cleaned up and proper again, but with that pain in his face, Tommy thinks he still looks like hell.

There’s a rush of adrenaline, leftovers from that night, and Tommy lurches forward, takes Sam into his arms and hugs him. It’s hard not to squeeze him tight.

Sam’s surprised, if the way he grunts is any indication, but he understands. It takes a moment, then his hands come up, rest on Tommy’s shoulder blades. Head bows, to rest his brow on Tommy’s shoulder.

They stand in silence. Tommy feels like he can finally breathe easy.

There’s something real pretty playing on the radio - Tommy’s mind is a little too far away to take in a name or lyrics - and Tommy finds himself swaying Sam in his arms. Too gentle to be noticeable at first, then gradually more comfortable, ‘til they look like the type of couple you could put on a postcard, the kind a young gal dreams of lookin’ like on her prom night.

Almost makes up for not being able to go dancing together, out in public, like Tommy would like (he bets he and Sam could cut a hell of a rug together). Almost. 

They’re there even after that pretty tune fades and the presenter starts talking about the news, thoughts empty but arms full; truth be told, Tommy’s not sure how long they spend softly swaying in place like that, but it comes to an end when Sam’s voice is muffled against his coat.

“Tom.”

“Yeah?”

“This here’s real nice, but, y’know…I really need to sit down now.”

There’s a beat, then Tommy huffs a laugh and pulls back to see Sam’s smile and hear his own soft chuckle. Don’t really know what they’re laughing at, they’re just sorta…happy, y’know?

“Right,” Tommy says, moving to help guide Sam to a chair, “sorry.”

As they go, Sam mutters, “We’ll pick that up later, though. Some other time.”

Tommy can’t help the grin as he replies, “Oughta be more careful with your words - I’ll be holdin’ you to that now.”

[mdemn]

love and war by feulrie but its sam and tommy send post

[vermutandherring]

Title says it all: 8 Mafia inspired characters for The Sims 4

Before you download: • Everyone is Base game + Custom content (listed within the archive) • I play with HQ mod so specific mods are HQ. • All characters use almost identical mods so be ware of the duplicates if you decide to install few of them. • 'Enhanced Eye' and 'Hand Size' sliders may cause problems like invisible hand or no eye. Can be fixed via restarting game or changing sim in CAS with corresponded slider. • Some hairstyles have a barely noticeable gap with the skull. If it bothers you a lot, try changing hairstyle or the shape of sim' head, making it a little wider.

Download:

• Michael Corleone • Bruno Bucciarati • Tommy Angelo • • Sam Trapani • Vito Scaletta • Henry Tomasino • • Vittorio Puzo • Goro Majima •

Epilogue

I had so much fun with the boys 🌚

CC Credits:

Hair by @johnnysimmer @wistfulpoltergeist @lexel-sims-cc Suits by @marvinsims @darte77 @linzlu KK's creation and others~ Genetics by @okruee @sims3melancholic @lamatisse @pralinesims @goppolsme and others~

Billiards poses by NICKNAME x Guell Smoking poses by @bedisfull x @effiethejay Revolver poses by @sewersims

All screenshots are taken with Metamorphoses ReShade preset by @bimbles-and-simbles

... And other amazing creators 🖤

If there are any problems, please let me know.

[bruceredcloud]

So you said we are lifelong friends.

[floating-space-jellyfish]

There is only so much you can actually forgive.

Just a sort of speculative thing I made since I’m on a role with the fanart rn, I’d imagine Tommy has a good right hook.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Imagine coming home from a long day of running errands to see ¡yandere! Sam Trapani beating one of your admirers to a bloody pulp on your front door step.

Warnings: Gore, violence, mentions of stalking, obsession, forced relationship

A/N: I drew this at the depths of night when I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t seen really any yandere mafia stuff soooo…… here you go!! Art + headcannon…you may now feast.

Requests: open 24/7

Bonus pt.2

(I mention that the admirer is young, I mean like Sam is 40 so the other guys is late 20’s to early thirties. Sam is just getting insecure about his age)

Sam had been stalking and slowly trying to court you for about a year and he’s getting closer to his goal of finally making you his; but this new guy that just moved in next door is just fucking it alll up.

It first started with the guy going over to your house to introduce himself and harmlessly wanting to be a friendly neighbor. Then quickly become bolder and bolder with his flirtations, much to Sam’s dismay! Could you believe that THE Sam Trapani is extremely jealous of this guy?? Probably 10 years younger and quite handsome, That boy is a serious threat.

You laugh louder at his jokes than you do at sam’s, your clothes are getting much more revealing and the way you prance your little ass over to him anytime he calls your name was seriously eating at him and he’s at his wits end of it. Sam knows he’s getting older but is his charm really that stale now?

Even when Sam is having a full conversation with with you this little shit will come around and inject himself into the whole interaction. Sam even started going grocery shopping on your schedule just to be able to have some alone time with you and yet again this man appears out of the wood works. Every. Single. Time.

(Okay that’s a little dramatic but the point still stands…Sammy cannot keep up with him. He’s finally met his match and he’s so whiny about ittt)

The other guys noticed this and found it extremely hilarious, Trapani wasn’t the hot shit of the town anymore and there was someone younger and more good looking ready to take his place and his girl. They poked fun and joked how Sam was now officially an old geezer and that a young damsel like yourself wouldn’t want anything to do with him. They fed into his insecurities and made everything just ten times worse. Of course they meant no harm, Sam usually wouldn’t be hung up on a girl for too long and plus he still had pretty much every other woman of Lost Haven in his hands so what what the big deal? Why were you so damn special anyways?

“Look Sam,” paulie breathed in between laughs. “Y/N is admittedly very gorgeous but just leave it alone at this point. She’s very obviously more into him than you. What about that broad down at the Corleone…what was her name??”

“Michelle..” Sam gritted in a low venomous tone

“Right, Michelle! Maaaaybeee…you can get her out of that hell hole and I’m sure once she cleans up nicely she’ll be…something of a wife” Paulie erupted into laughter once again after finishing that sentence, barely able to hold back the tears that accompanied it.

Sam already decided enough was enough and there was no point in trying to play this whole love game thing fairly. Going down to your house and giving it to you straight was the only way he could think of doing this. He wanted your love story to feel organic and for your admiration for him to slowly bloom but you’re obviously not getting it. You don’t understand that Sam is the only possible match for you.

So much time stalking, analyzing and carefully articulating every move he made with you isn’t about be washed down the drain just because some bright eyed sucker wants to fuck you. No…it’s okay though. You’re just slightly misguided by all the butterflies and fluff but soon he’ll lead you right back to where you need to be.

As his car approached your door, he noticed a fellow holding a huge bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift in his hand ready to knock on your door. Obviously Sam’s time was running out far sooner than he had previously expected at that moment something inside of him snapped.

Without thinking any further he got out of his sleek black car and opened the trunk, out of it he grabbed a bat and started towards the young man.

”Oh hey Sam! I’ve been knocking on y/n’s door for quite some time now. Do you know where sh-“ before the young man could even finish his next sentence the bat connected with his head and continued to do so as Sam kept striking him over and over..

Nothing was said out of Sam’s mouth as he beat him to a pulp…actually nothing could be heard throughout the entire neighborhood outside of the thwacking of the bat and the cries that escaped the admirer’s lips, pleading for him to stop. Everyone in the neighborhood silently watch from a distance, they all knew of Sam’s affiliation and no one wanted to be next on Salierie’s list. Even the birds decided to stop chirping in fear they too would meet the same fate as the fellow

This continued on for another couple minutes before a blood curdling scream broke Sam’s attack.

“Sam?!? What the hell are you doing to him????”

Hearing your familiar voice, Sam swiftly stood up to face you, hurriedly trying to explain what happened.

“Look…y/n calm down, this is just a simple miss understanding…”

He flashed a brisk smile and steadily started walking towards you

“Just come with me and we can speak about this over dinner, huh? You’d like that?”

Shaking your head and carefully backing away from the deranged man, you cried out

“No…n-no…no Sam….” A breath passed “Y-you gangsters are all the same…you hurt people without cause, just look at what you did to him! He was a good man!”

Sam for a moment, stopped walking and looked back at the bloody scene he had just created before looking back at you.

“Oh sweetheart…”

He began walking towards you again, this time faster so he could catch your arm.

“…trust me when I say, this isn’t the worst i could’ve done to em’. ”

Pulling you in close to his chest, he moved slightly to the side of your face and lowered his lips to your ear before speaking again,

“I’ve got something to make it up to you, doll face.” Looking down at his bloody and bruised hands, he held a perfectly intact rose…

[parrotmushroom]

sam/tommy

[mushroommans-cache]

Mafia time

[weetlebeetle]

Don't let them get away, Tommy!

[los-sanchos]

Everything above mentioned doesn’t make any sense, I made it for fun, don’t worry pookies

[kofolacitrus]

Actually kinda proud of this one 👉👈

And I'm also wondering...what if there was maybe another reason behind Sam's last words?

I mean...

What if he ACTUALLY SAW PAULIE!

Like his ghost or something 🥹 pfffff (I know I'm so silly)

[wander-over-the-words]

The Killer and the Saviour

Summary: “Both hands on the wheel, Tom,” Sam says softly, and Tommy wants to say Sam doesn’t have to remind him, but he’s honestly not sure of that.

Characters: Tommy Angelo, Sam Trapani; mentions of Johnny, the Priest, Don Salieri, Paulie Lombardo, Vincenzo Ricci, Ralph, Frank Colletti, Sarah Marino.

Pairing: Tommy Angelo/Sam Trapani.

Warnings: near-death experience, character in shock; mentions of firearm usage, blood, canon character death, rape, vomit, period-typical homophobia, sex.

Notes: Takes place during The Saint and the Sinner. I’ve had a certain scene from this fic in my head for ages, and I guess my brain decided that we’re gonna crank out a one-shot based on it in the span of a couple hours, so…here’s this lmao.

All material belongs to Hangar 13.

Fic available on AO3.

…

The police sirens have faded, they’re in the clear, and yet Tommy’s heart is still beating hard in his chest. Has been since he’d faced the barrel of a gun, watched Johnny step out of the shadows when the priest had distracted him, looked eye-to-eye with the killer in his would-be murderer’s hand - and then jumped out of his skin when a shot went off and Johnny had lurched with the familiar look of a gun’s new victim, blood spraying from his head.

Sam had come marching up the aisle, looking plenty pissed, arm extended, killer-turned-saviour in his own hand (but it isn’t the gun that Tommy will thank later); Tommy adores Sam - loves him, has for years now, feels like he always has - but he has never been happier to see his partner than that moment. If shock hadn’t rattled him, if a priest hadn’t been present, if there wasn’t still work to do, if the fucking cops weren’t waiting outside for them, Tommy thinks he would’ve collapsed in Sam’s arms. 

Classy fucker that Sam is, in the presence of a witness and with time running out, he’d turned to Tom and asked if that made them even.

“Sure. For now,” Tommy had said, some weak, numb snark that hadn’t sounded like snark at all. Out of body experience.

He’s got to hand it to the police for once: they’d provided a fine distraction from his fear of what had just happened, giving him something else to focus on. Admittedly, there’d still been that fear for his own safety, but that just comes with the territory; mostly, he focused on getting Sam out alive, and not just out of thanks for the recent save. It was better for him to focus on someone else in a moment like that.

The hearse makes for a silly escape vehicle - potentially disrespectful, now that Tommy thinks about it - but like Sam had said, “It’s got wheels, don’t it?!” and so it works for ‘em. 

On the way to it, Tommy had doubled over to make himself a smaller target for the cops, hand pressed to Sam’s back to force him into the same position (as if Sam needed telling), and he’d fired shots at the boys in blue across the road, the ones who could potentially shoot through the window and take Sam out while he was clambering into the passenger’s seat. Tommy had been so focused on doing that, that he hadn’t thought to climb into the hearse himself until he heard Sam shouting his name and felt a tug at his coat.

It takes longer than he’d like to lose the cops, but they do it, and the distraction is gone, and the gun is back in Tommy’s mind’s eye. 

Christ knows, this job is dangerous - fuck, just earlier he’d been in a shootout in a gentlemen’s club and had to jump from its window to the next building’s rooftop before he got caught up in the blast of the bomb he’d planted - but he doesn’t think he’s ever come that close to biting it before (at least, that he’s aware of).

And not just that - it’s not just how close he’d come to dying, but it’s…he’d stared his killer in the eye. Not the fucker holding the gun who’d thought he’d be doing some divine retribution, but the gun itself. Looked down at it the moment before Sam had turned up. It’d stared at him and he’d stared at it, right in its single, black eye.

And - fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s not just that either, it’s…

…He would’ve been alone. 

On his other jobs, the ones just as dangerous as this, he was with someone, so if he kicked the bucket, at least he would die with the comfort that somebody he cared for was there. He doesn’t fault Sam in the slightest for not being with him in the church until the moment that he was - the situation was out of both their hands - and he doesn’t doubt that the priest would’ve have fallen to his knees and prayed for Tommy’s soul, just as he’d done for Johnny’s, but -

He would’ve been alone. Nobody who actually knew him and cared about him would’ve been there. Not his mama or his siblings, not Paulie, Vinny, Ralph, the boss, Frank, Sarah, Sam - they wouldn’t have been there for him in his last moments. Just some fucking rape-happy punk and a priest who cared only because God told him to - he would’ve been alone.

And that scares him more than anything. More than even the black eye of that gun. 

If they weren’t in a hurry to get home (the cops are gone, but a hearse still kinda sticks out), Tommy would pull over so he could vomit into a drain. For now, he makes do with clenching his jaw shut and wiping a hand down the lower half of his face whenever he gets a chance and ignoring the way his stomach churns.

It’s quiet between he and Sam save for some conversation about recent events that Tommy has to wrench out from between his gritted teeth. He thinks he does well at sounding more casual than his mood will properly allow. 

Still, though - his ears allow him to hear the rumbling of the car and the public outside his window and Sam, but his eyes still hold the gun’s. He sees it when he blinks. He sees it in the windows and the alleyways that they pass, in the mirrors of the hearse. 

His heart won’t stop hitting his ribs. His blood is still cold yet electrified. His limbs still feel numb, even as he drives as smoothly as he ever does. Robotic.

Later, when they’re alone and away from prying, prejudiced eyes (fuck), he’ll be able to kiss the hell out of Sam like he wants to, the classic ‘thank fuck we’re alive to do this’ kind of kiss that they’ve had before, and indulge in ‘thank fuck we’re alive to do this’ sex, which, again, they aren’t strangers to, but for now, he’ll take what he can get, and what he can get is -

Once they’re at a red light, Tommy - without looking, without speaking, without really thinking, just seeking the greatest comfort he knows - reaches out and grabs Sam’s hand.

He catches, out of the corner of his eye, the way Sam flinches in surprise, since he’d been staring absentmindedly out his own window. He sees the way Sam turns his head toward him, sees the way his chin dips as he looks down at how Tommy is holding the hand he’d been resting on his own thigh, palm-up and fingers once laxed but now forcibly flared around Tommy’s palm. He can’t see the way Sam looks at him, but he can feel it, and Tommy’s a little embarrassed by himself for doing this, but fuck, fuck, he needs this.

And like always, better than anyone else Tommy’s ever known that ain’t blood-related, Sam understands him. He wraps his fingers around Tommy’s hand, holds it in turn. There’s a tiny jolt upwards of their joined hands - Sam had gone to kiss Tommy’s knuckles, only to remember where they were, which is funny, cause usually it’s Tommy doing that kind of thing; Sam’s always real good at playing the facade. 

Sam squeezes his hand, holds it in a comfortably tight grip, and Tommy breathes out through his nose. Tries to make it seem like a normal breath, but the volume and the weight of it are too telling.

(He will kiss the hell out of this man later. Kiss him and make love to him.)

The light turns green and Tommy drives one-handed. How unwise that is doesn’t register to him in the slightest - not just because he’s driven like that before, but because he doesn’t want to let go of his anchor, lest he float away again.

It’s Sam who puts a stop to it: Tommy feels more than sees Sam pull his hand from Tommy’s grasp, then he’s using it to take hold of Tommy’s wrist and he guides his hand back to the steering wheel, lays it there, and Tommy automatically grips it again.

“Both hands on the wheel, Tom,” Sam says softly, and Tommy wants to say Sam doesn’t have to remind him, but he’s honestly not sure of that.

He can feel himself drifting, mind going back to that church, when Sam puts his hand on Tommy’s thigh, just under the knee. Grips it like he had done with Tommy’s palm, a handful of Tommy’s flesh in a comfortable tightness. Massages the muscle lightly. Strokes with his thumb. Every gesture that could tell Tommy I know, Tom. I know. Alright? But it’s over now. An’ you’re okay.

Tommy breathes out through his nose again and is chained to his seat.

(He’ll kiss the hell out of him and make love to him.)

Tommy’s better by the time they get back to the bar, feels less like he needs to cling to Sam until he aches, and he tells Sam that it was only how close he came to biting it that bothered him. None of the other stuff, in order to save face.

But he gets the feeling Sam knows cause, hell - Sam always knows.

[mdemn]

for obvious reasons this is literally sam & tommy. right down to the saint and the sinner analogy, dollar bills floating in the air, and leaving with less blood than you brought. it’s impossible to tell who was wrong, in the end, anyway. was sam a saint for staying loyal to the end? was he a sinner for killing the only two people who were ever in his corner? was tom a saint for sticking to his morals of wanting his children to grow up in a clean environment? was he the sinner for disobeying every rule he’s ever been given? it’s impossible to tell with a fistful of dollar bills descending into the room & two people willing to leave with less blood than they brought.

source: “it’s not like nikola telsa knew all those people were going to die” from ‘a fortune for your disaster’ by hanif abdurraqib

[vermutandherring]

This game is pure poetry.

[bearyyayay]

If you guys went to the same school as mine, you could probably recognize my bag almost instantly

[klauswalz]

"Remember that money, jobs, even best pals will come and go. But family? Family is forever."

Credit: X / X