#there's some business with a woman but eh that doesn't matter so much

[milfbro]

I think if you want to read Dostoyevsky but are intimidated by the whole Thing, start by reading Notes From Underground to get a taste for his style and prose and his pathetic protagonists. It's very short, I would even call it a short story. In the book I own they also put The Double because they couldn't justify a book with just one of those two.

The Double is not very good but Notes? Notes is still my favorite of his writing so far. There's no murder but I think it makes the dude more pathetic and isn't that what you want from a story after all? Social anxiety and being sopping wet? Creating all of your own problems and then complaining about them

[dark-frosted-heart]

Mirror, mirror...Who will sink into lustful dreams? - Roger Barel

This is Roger's story from Alfons' route release event in Kate's POV. If I get Roger's POV, I'll translate that too

Nsfw, Illusion?Roger is his own warning. You know, the usual josei dubcon...but in dream form.

As usual can't guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Alfons: Are you ready? In that case: 3, 2, 1...

Following Alfons' rhythmic countdown, I opened my eyes—

—And found myself in the infirmary with Roger in front of me.

Kate: This suggestion's amazing...It's as if the real Roger's right in front of me!

Roger: The hell are you talkin' about?

The Roger before me furrowed his brows in confusion. Meanwhile, I was even more impressed by his reaction, as if it was actually Roger himself.

Kate: Um...I'll explain later. Do you remember when you and I had a fight last week?

~~ Flashback start ~~

What happened was that we had different thoughts regarding a mission. Roger wasn't listening to me at all—

Kate: I don't want to see you again!

After saying something so childish like a kid throwing a tantrum, I really didn't see Roger after that...

I lost my chance to apologize to him.

~~ Flashback end ~~

Kate: So I asked Alfons to help me...practice apologizing to you. He suggested that I see Roger in a dream.

Roger: So that's it... So we're in your dream, huh? You're earnest even with stuff like practicing how to apologize. I don't really care about what you said to me back then. I know you have your own thoughts, so don't worry about it.

Roger's illusion forgave me so easily. While it thought it was a typical Roger thing to do, I suddenly felt uneasy.

Kate: I wish the real Roger would say that same thing...

Roger: He did. It's me.

Kate: Just because Roger's illusion forgave me so easily, doesn't mean it'll actually turn out like this. I shouldn't just apologize...Should I prepare something...?

Roger: If you really wanna show your sincerity, then how 'bout you buy him a nice beer?

Kate: ...! You're right, I should!

Illusion Roger's suggestion was what finally gave me the courage to apologize to the real Roger.

(I'll apologize with this the next time I see the real Roger...)

Roger: By the way, little lady, why're you puttin' so much effort into making up with me?

Kate: Eh...

Roger: Hate to say this but, I don't mix business and pleasure. If you and I are fighting, it's not gonna affect your work, is it?

Kate: The reason why I want to make up with Roger isn't because of work...

Roger: Oh...?

Kate: I...I admire how Roger's researching curses and his diligent approach to treatment others. Though I think it'd be nice if you were less pushy or mean... I put my trust in Roger. That's why I don't want to stay on bad terms with him.

(I'd never say to Roger himself because he'd tease me...)

Roger: So you wanna make up with me cuz you like me?

Kate: L-like...That's not it.

Roger: Whaddya mean? Ah...not like, but love?

Kate: Why's it getting worse...!

Then, Roger's hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me in hard—

Kate: Nn...!

With practiced hands, he easily stole a kiss.

Roger: Any normal woman would keep her distance from a man who puts his hands on her. But you never run away when I do and you say you wanna make up with me. There's only one reason for that. You love me so much you can't stand it. That it?

Why does the degree of love increase each time?

Roger's confident gaze pierced through me and I almost nodded because of it.

Kate: I...

(Roger's right...I want to make up because of a considerable amount of fondness I have.)

(But...it's not because of romantic love or true love.)

I can't explain what's different, but I can't say I'm in love.

Kate: I do like you. As a fairytale write, Roger!

I fixed my gaze on Roger to emphasize that it was only a working relationship.

Roger: Oh...?

Kate: Roger's worth documenting, that's all I'm going to say.

I tried to attach some non-romantic rationale onto the reason why I want to make up with Roger.

Roger: Even so, it doesn't matter. If you like me for my humanity, then all you need is to like me as a man.

As soon as he said that, Roger pinned me down on the bed.

Kate: Why are you going in that direction? Let me go...!

Roger: Why...Because no matter how many times I bully you, you always come back with your tail waggin'. You really like me, but if you're gonna pretend that you don't...I'll expose you.

My hands were immediately pinned over my head.

I couldn't move because Roger was hovering over me.

Kate: Nn...

There was nothing I could do as Roger kissed me again.

Unlike last time, his tongue parted my lips and teased the inside, making my breathing ragged.

(Even though this is a dream and this Roger's an illusion, why does it feel so real?)

My kiss-addled mind couldn't comprehend it.

Kate: Nn...Nnn?!

I let out a muffled scream in Roger's mouth.

As expected, Roger's hand slipped beneath my underwear.

Roger: You're already so wet here...All this from kissing me?

A deep laugh rumbled in his throat and he moved his fingers, rubbing and pressing against my sensitive spot.

Kate: Do- Ahnn... Don't!

Roger: Not that convincing when you have such a lewd look on your face. Well, I'd rather be inside you instead of makin' you cum like this.

Kate: In...side? Ah...!

The fingers that had been stimulating my bud entered me and I let out a high-pitched cry.

Roger: Mm, you're tight here, little lady. Well, guess you'll get used to it.

Roger's fingers continued pumping his fingers in and out, making obscene sounds as he stretched me out.

Kate: Haa....! I can't...Nn...

Roger: I'm gonna need to use 3 or 4 fingers here if I'm gonna fit, you know?

Kate: You're not going to...put it...in...

Roger: You're stubborn. Your body's being honest though, look.

Roger's fingers pressed against a specific spot inside me and stimulated it relentlessly.

Kate: Ah...?! Not there...Nnghaa...

Roger: I know. Tapping this spot feels good, doesn't it?

Regardless of how much I protested and tried to wriggle away, Roger didn't let me go.

(This is my dream and Roger's an illusion... I was supposed to practice making up with him...)

(Why is this happening...?)

But what confused me even more was my heart...

(Even if the real Roger pushed me around like this too...I'd still want to make up with him)

(I know he's going to do terrible things to me...Have I gone crazy?)

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

｡⋆｡˚🦋˚｡⋆｡

Jude: "............"

Business partner: "I-I'm surprised that you took the trouble to come all the way here! We have only first-class products, so feel free to inspect them...!"

Jude: "You have lots that aren't shown here. Where are the rest?"

Business partner: "....Excuse me!?"

Jude: "What? Are you deaf? I said show me everything that isn't here."

Business partner: "Ah! T-That's..Umm..they're in the warehouse, far away from here. It will take time to get everything right now. Haha"

Ellis: "I knew this might happen, so I brought everything beforehand. Please check, these belong to you, right?"

Business partner: "W-W-What!?! When did you...!?!?"

Jude: "....The quality of these ones doesn't look the same compared to the ones you send to the head office."

Jude: "These ones look different."

Ellis: "You can tell? They all look the same to me."

Jude: "Shut your mouth if your eyes are rotting."

Ellis: "Yesss."

Jude: "So, care to explain this to me?"

Business partner: "Um..Ah..W-Well..it was a mistake..."

Jude: "No. You were trying to hide the inferior products and sell them at the high quality price, but you got caught."

Business partner: "......Ngh."

Jude: "Well, I'll let you off the hook this time."

Jude: "It's our fault that we made you believe that we're first timers and you guys could fool us with your shallow wits, right?"

Business partner: "Ha...Eh..?"

Jude: "Now you know, you can't fool me easily, right?"

Jude: "So if you try anything stupid like this again, I'll sink your whole ship, okay?"

Business partner: "Y-Yes...!! I understand. I'm sorry! Also...thank you very much."

............

Alphonse: *gasps* "Did you see that, Lord El? That evil look on his face. That's a scary blackmail, right? right?"

Elbert: "It's not nice to scam people.....we must also see this from Jude's perspective too."

Alphonse: "Yes yes. Thank you for your textbook answer."

Alphonse: "But that doesn't make the report interesting. Let's make some amendments."

Alphonse: "They were seen torturing and humiliating innocent civilians and Mr. Jude smiled at them cruelly...."

Elbert: "Al, lying is bad."

............

Ellis: "Ah....then."

Business partner: "Ah!?"

Ellis: "There have been some disturbing people going in and out the warehouse we rented these days...do you know anything about that?"

Business partner: "....!"

Ellis: "Ah, it's okay if you don't know. I just want to make sure you're not breaching the contract."

The counterparty, blue-faced and trembling, turns his gaze for a moment in horror towards the warehouse district.

He immediately returned his gaze to the front and shook his head sideways like a broken toy.

Ellis: "..............."

Jude: "....Whatever."

Jude: "You know what happens if you breach the contract anyways."

Ellis: "There's a trading company that buys these defective lots at a low price for shoddy goods, so you can take them there."

Ellis: "Here's the contact details of the representative. Good luck."

..............

Alphonse: "....Mr. Ellis, is taking care of the person who they themselves threated by helping them dispose their inventory..."

Alphonse: "He's so good....not worthy of being a Crown member to conquer evil with evil."

Alphonse: "We have to exaggerate this point as much as possible El......El?"

When Alphonse turned around, Elbert was...

Young woman: "Umm....I love you! Please tell me your name...Please...!!"

Sexy woman: "I'm rich and powerful in my home country. How about throwing away your mundane troublesome life here and let me keep you....what do you say?"

Painter with suspicious eyes: "You're a miracle of god...please come to my atelier, please...?"

Elbert was surrounded by passengers disembarking from a luxury cruise ship that had just arrived.

Elbert: "I...got some business over there-----"

Elbert was pushed further and further away by the waves of people approaching him one after another.

Alphonse: *sighs* "Looks like ducks eating breadcrumbs...."

Alphonse: "Let's cut the matter short and get on with it?"

Alphonse: "I hope they didn't notice us following them."

...........

Jude: ".....Ellis, you saw it too right?"

Ellis: "Yeah....what should we do? Do we catch them?"

Jude: "Nah."

Jude: ".......If you're going to do it, do it in one go."

............

Liam: "I wonder how El and Al are doing?"

William: "Let's wait for them patiently, first."

Liam: "Ah! They are here! ....Welcome home!!"

Alphonse: "............"

William: "You look gloomy. Did something happen?"

Liam: "Maybe they are spies after all...huh?"

Alphonse: "I have to reveal this terrible truth to you all."

Elbert: "...................Really?"

Alphonse: "Those two......have only been working all this time!!"

Liam: "Eeehhh!!? They are working!!??"

Elbert: "I don't think it's that shocking of a fact..."

Harrison: *sighs*"....What's going on?"

Alphonse: "They have been working so hard that I have nothing special to report. Isn't that insane?"

Elbert: "Jude is feared by people but Ellis is liked by people."

William: "So, do you think they are trustworthy?"

Elbert: "I don't know....yet."

Alphonse: "To be honest, I don't care."

Harrison: "......This didn't produce any results at all."

Liam: "Hahaha, the road ahead looks tough."

William: "Now that I think....I remembered something."

Harrison: ".....?"

William: "Roger must have known those two before they joined the Crown."

Harrison: "Huh!?"

William: "I think his story will help in determining whether they can be trusted or not."

Harrison: *sighs* "......It's lie when you said you just now remembered about asking Roger, isn't it?"

William: "Who can say?"

...........

Roger: "Yeah, so what do you want?"

Harrison: "Can you tell me anything you knew about Jude and Ellis before you came here?"

[firespirited]

It has been brought to my attention that people can't know me unless I let you in. You're not mind-readers or actively remembering every detail. So let's get vulnerable *awkward thumbs up*

Here are some answers to not frequently asked questions:

You can use my real name, it works for me, Saffy's a chosen name for online (and offline if people struggle with pronunciation). I like both.

Don't worry about french timezones. I sleep 14 hours a day, awake about 12, resting for about half of that. I do have to go AFK regularly to do household stuff and rest, but if i'm online it's ok to assume i'm around =)

I can't drive. Haven't learned. Finally open to the idea though.

I don't have a DNI and don't talk about squicks and stressors because Tumblr has good curation options that i use extensively: So if I don't engage with a post, it could be that it contains a specific word. Things I haven't been able to filter but can set off a spiral are gun ownership 'for protection' (science says nope). Disability and labour (specifically the idea we have to be productive and also the fact that many disabled folks are maimed by attempting work). Breath play (extremely dangerous), sloppily defined 'kink' and ill-defined long term relationships. The word glioblastoma makes me cry. Tween pregnancy, death from childbirth, covid, long covid and various aspects of rape culture get greylisted at more difficult times.

I'm ace but have no issue with erotica and nudes or most sex scenes. Doesn't do much for me, doesn't disgust me most of the time. However, I can't stand products of the porn industry: zero interest in watching the adventures of a near disembodied penis in a woman who's clearly performing. You can be sex positive, support sex work and still see the industry as detrimental. Stunt and porn performers deserve so much better.

I'm currently more financially stable than ever. It's also not much at all. Enough to choose + buy my own food and clothes. Enough to have savings for a dog's vet expenses and someone to give her 15-minute walks. It's precarious and at the whims of having a really good doctor (she's retiring soon) but it's been nice to not be scared all the time. Lily the dog is my most precious luxury and worth it.

I went a decade only seeing a GP for emergency antibiotics after medical trauma. I had to put on makeup, drink lots of sugar to stay sat upright during the visit and pretend to be weller than I was to not get put in a psych ward because he didn't "believe" in autoimmune illnesses in the young, despite being cleared by a psychiatrist and a weekly psychotherapy session for 3 months. Getting healthcare and getting it paid for has been a mixture of very good luck and a long-term uphill battle (huge amounts of online research).

I'm probably not autistic (the online science tests point towards ADHD, you could probably armchair dx that from a few posts!) but use the term 'on the spectrum' because I've been perceived as autistic since childhood, especially when I'm happy or comfortable. Can't figure out if how I identify internally matters more than how I'm seen. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I'm often assumed to be a lesbian. eh.

I can be easily gaslit so long as it's a very slow boil. But if pushed to think about it, a core self that I've built in the past few years emerges suddenly to give me the rational overview. The clarity of that view is brutal. just brutal. Makes me question everything about myself for a while. I feel like someone trying to walk next to a car blaring 'oonst oonst' music trying to not match the beat in steps but falling into it anyway.

I'm allergic to cats but not exclusively a 'dog person'. Papaye slept just outside the door in a dog transport cage after Christmas while upstairs neighbour was busy. I just think cats are neat, they seem fine with me.

I can't explain why the main hobby ended up being dolls, it just clicks: they're bite sized and candy coloured and cute, there are so many crafting and art options for doll collectors, always loved repair. I feel very lucky to have found such a lovely community and i'm constantly getting into new crafts, new stories and making new acquaintances because it's a place where dolls get to be just one facet for connection.

I'm going to be 41 in april, my fave flower is daffodils, my fave plant is moss, all colours are nice: pastel rainbows and shades of green from lime to teal make me happiest.

'manifesting' is my current bugbear, it's stupid, it's harmful, it's just world theory repackaged, did I mention it's stupid?

I don't like onions and garlic, not unless they're super in the background. I respect the allium lovers and can (and do) put up with the smell daily but really dislike the taste. Same with coffee except that smells amazing.

Emoticons and emojis have made typing more like real language to me, I speak with my hands and accentuate words and even emote at the screen while i'm writing. I don't find it childish, not even gifs or memes, just an extension of language.

I've changed my mind about David Fincher in the past 5 years: brilliant director yes, not great at human stories after all.

If you feel like sharing your own, let this be your prompt. 💜

[destinyc1020]

Austin seems like an amazing person. But everyone has flaws and one of Austin's flaws seems to be his questionable taste in women. I'll leave it at that.

Yeaaaa.... Vanessa seemed cute and perfectly fine when they were dating each other, but it wasn't until AFTER they broke up with each other that I started seeing her REAL true colors. 👀

Olivia was a rebound/fling/pandemic p*ssy so I don't count her lol....

LRD also seemed like definitely a fling and rebound as well, so I'll give him a pass for that. But the Kaia thing?? Eh.... 🥴 I'm sure she's a nice girl and all, but.... 🥴

Even though I'm not a Kaustin Shipper, one thing I will say about Kaia though is that she at least seems to be a LOT more low-maintenance and less controlling and "me me me" than Vanessa was lol. She's probably a breath of fresh air for Austin honestly lol. 😅🤣

But yea, I love Austin, but I just think he has a bad woman-picker I'm sorry lol. 😅 He seems overly trusting I think. JMHO. I'm not saying he's naive, but I kinda feel like he doesn't really seem like he realizes when some people might not have the best intentions and may not be the best MATCH for him.

I mean, he dated V for his entire 20s for the most part, so he didn't really have much experience with other women and knowing what he wants and doesn't want? Plus, his mom died when he was really young (23), and we all know mom can see stuff in a partner a MILE away that maybe we might not always be able to see. Just saying.... 🤷🏾‍♀️

It's not my life, so it doesn't really matter to me, but I would LOVE to see him date a woman:

At LEAST 25 years old (preferably 27 years old or OLDER) and mature-minded.

Someone who is NOT a NepoBaby and wasn't raised in a privileged bubble her entire life 🥴

Someone who came from humble beginnings like himself

A woman who's genuinely kind (NOT fake in other words), down to earth, genuine, and warm, just like him 😊

And a woman who's actually talented at her craft. She doesn't HAVE to be an actress, but that would be nice, since they would both understand the business and everything it entails.

[safflowerseason]

How are you liking maisel s5 so far?? I love reading your takes on everything :)

Hey! thank so much for the ask! I miss getting asks!!

I enjoyed the first three eps, although admittedly Maisel isn't a show I'm deeply emotionally invested in. With ASP shows I feel like you have to make up your mind to take the good with the bad/wonky/weird/uneven/random, because for every gutting Midge/Lenny scene that feels so real and raw or gorgeously whimsical entertaining set-piece, you have to put with whatever Abe's doing at the Village Voice or Moishe and Shirley yelling at each other at Joel's nightclub for ten minutes. I liked the flash forward conceit, except for the laughable age makeup they put on Rachel B (I'm sorry, no amount of hat-wearing/face-cream could protect a woman in show business from the excesses and physical ravages of the sixties and seventies). I liked ASP finally interrogating--in a very mild way--Midge's approach (or lack thereof) to parenting and its costs. I think there's probably something to be read in Mei telling Joel she can't have it all alongside Midge's clearly tense relationship with her adult children. I'm sad to see Stephanie Hsu go, although I'm happy it's because her star is ascending, and tbh ASP is *not* the writer to address the complexities of Joel and Mei raising a bi-racial child in the sixties.

With ASP I'm always girding myself to be disappointed romance-wise, but if we don't see Susie and Midge reunite in the future I *will* be gutted, as that's the only relationship that truly matters on this show. Of course I am enjoying Reid Scott striding around as a smarmy, cocky, soulless talk-show host (instead of a smarmy, cocky, soulless political strategist) exchanging banter with Rachel Brosnahan (I loved the bit where he ripped up the pages and tossed it over the balcony like confetti). The space the two characters were given in Ep 3 to just shamelessly flirt makes me yearn for an alternate universe where Reid Scott and Anna Chlumsky got to do the same thing for more than thirty seconds at a time. I feel like probably something will happen between them but it will be more "eh we're both hot and bored/lonely and this would be fun so why not" variety (that certainly seems to be Gordon's vibe) as opposed to the star-crossed earth-shattering comedy soulmates connection that links Midge and Lenny. (this sets aside the gross power imbalance between Gordon and Midge, which ASP seems to think is fine because we know Midge eventually succeeds.) Based on how Midge mentioned the Gordon Ford show, it doesn't seem like the man himself will be a big and/or complicated *relationship* in her future life/career, so I guess we'll see what happens there!!

As for Midge and Lenny...as I said, making Til There Was You their song is just, like, such a tell on the significance of their connection from the POV of the writers. I know there's apparently some angst out there re: the show's portrayal of Lenny Bruce and whether the show has made him into too much of a romantic hero or whatever when in reality he was a very complicated man who had a complicated and violent relationship with the women in his life. It seems like he really won't be in this final season much, which I guess is one of the show's (inconsistent) nods to reality. I'm sad to see less of Luke Kirby if that's the case, and there's nothing wrong with historical fiction, but I think the show is on safer narrative ground keeping Midge primarily surrounded by other exclusively fictional characters.

As for Joel and Midge's family...they are by far the dimension of this show I have cared least about since its inception, in spite of consistently fantastic performances from Tony Shalhoub, Marin Hinkle, Kevin Pollak, and Caroline Aaron, which makes me a little sad, but that's ASP for you. I did love seeing Kelly Bishop for a bit...an ASP icon. She should be in everything.

Those are my immediate thoughts...what did you think about the first three eps??

[sweetish-original-story]

Chapter 5

However, as the evening unfolded, Sammy's moment of triumph was interrupted when her mother entered the picture. Her mother, Eleanor, approached her daughter and introduced herself to Dulce.

Eleanor, the business woman. Eleanor the Billionare. Eleanor the witch. According to Dulce though, she's Eleanor the who?

She was all clad in a shimmering sequin dress, redder than blood, with lipstick and snakeskin kittenheels to match. Her hair was put up into a clean bun with not a stray out of place, and while very obviously smaller than her daughter, was somehow able to consume all the light in the room with a simple glare. Her pearls had tapered to a point, almost teeth-like and she had this slit in her dress that was just enough to make Dulce have to look away.

Eleanor Giovanni, with her strong-willed nature and a penchant for overbearing advice, couldn't resist introducing herself and embarrassing Sammy.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your little friend Samuela?" Sammy prayed to be run over by a flying ice cream truck. "Dollie, you should be careful with all those sweets. You have a problem. Cavities are no joke, and your getting a little, hm. You've been off the diet haven't you? Don't worry dear, I know plenty of gym coaches..." Eleanor advised with a sweet but sour, motherly tone.

Wow. What a bitch.

Then, Eleanor turned her attention to Dulce, with a hint of matchmaking in her eyes. "You must be Dulce- eh, Pescado? Odd. I've heard so much about you and your business, I think Samuela here should settle down and start her own business. I could fund it all, you know," she suggested with a knowing look, implying that she might think Sammy has a crush on Dulce. She had to be doing it on purpose, trying to sell her off like some sick puppy she doesn't want anymore.

Every. Single. Time.

Sammy's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She was livid. She was horrified. She could boil over right now. She doesn't know what brought it on, but in a moment, in that single, stupid, insignificant moment she barely registered, made a decision that will demolish her whole world. She stammered, "I...I don't like to be the face of my own work, MOM. Why are you LIKE THIS? I HATE YOU!!!"

With a furious and mortified demeanor, Sammy sprinted, leaving her mother confused and worried. On the outside.

Dulce, on the other hand, was left baffled by the exchange. He turned away from the exhibit to find Sammy, his artistic collaborator and newfound friend, to offer comfort and understanding in the midst of her momentary distress.

In the bathroom, after the uncomfortable encounter with Sammy's mom, Dulce finds Sammy curled up in a stall. He never noticed how frail she looks before. She never noticed that he naturally smells like sugar. Dulce, in his own moment of weakness, decides to have a have a heart-to-heart conversation with the odd woman. He gently reaches out to Sammy, hands lovingly holding hers, still sticky with syrup, and a voice filled with understanding and empathy.

"Sammy," he begins, "I know that talking to your parents incredibly hard. Trust me, I've been through it. It's not your fault she did that she just... sometimes moms are rough. You don't have to do it now, you're NOT to do it alone. I know we just met a little bit ago but your my friend now. You helped me and I'm ready to help you. I'll be right there beside you, no matter how things go. I promise."

He promised. Nobody ever promised anything like that to her. Everything in her world was based on supply and demand, and here he was not wanting anything. In fact, he never did, did he? He just wanted her around for her, not for money or fame. Here with her, no if ands or buts.

Sammy's eyes well up with a mixture of relief and vulnerability. She admits, her voice trembling, "I've seen my mom angry before, but I've never gone against her advice like that. I never yelled at her like that. Being around you I guess, made me feel braver for a moment but...I'm scared, Dulce. She's a snake."

In that moment, the illusion of grace and stoicism shatters for both of them. Dulce, always seen as a model of visual artistry, and Sammy, the epitome of professionalism, admit to each other that they have no idea what they're doing in life. In a sea full of stars, somehow found each other: a gourmet marshmallow treat and a hardened candy rock. As they spoke and the hours passed, they forgot which one was which.

[americanredragger]

Honestly I've been thinking about Leftist Infighting vs Right Wing Infighting, at least as far as American examples go.

Leftist Infighting did SO MUCH to reduce voter turnout. Leftist Purity Culture did SO MUCH to reduce voter turnout. Yes, Kamala skewed towards a more centrist campaign and YES you definitely need to aim at your fucking target instead of that meadow over there, but Leftism is SO INACCESSIBLE to people who would otherwise be interested in helping the cause. If MAGA is like Doctor Who's Cybermen ("Convert, or be Deleted", and then operating in virtual lockstep at every point from then on with only surface level differences and functionally cosmetic disagreements), then the Left is more like... Daleks. Not in the omnicidal maniac way, it should be said, but in our provable hatred for the Unlike Us. "But I thought inclusiveness was our chief virtue?!" On paper, it is. But we are CONSTANTLY tearing ourselves and others apart for not EXACTLY aligning with our view of what is Good And Pure And Holy And Sacred. We have an OPENLY TRANS CONGRESSWOMAN. That is... not really precedented! Yet people threw her under the bus not twenty minutes later and acted like her election didn't matter and was utterly pointless because she did The Very American Thing and expressed solidarity with Israel rather than Palestine, which, from an objective viewpoint outside the American Internet Left's Echo Chamber, is neither strange nor controversial in America at large, and most of us were brought up this way, so it's unsurprising that many of our generation still think and believe this way. But rather than work around this thing we disagree on, rather than accept an imperfect comrade, rather than table our grievances so we could build a fucking network of resistance against the coming Trumpian Junta, or even open a dialog with her about why she believes what she believes and POSSIBLY try to convince her otherwise, y'all chose the puritan path of least resistance and threw a trans woman to the fucking wolves in an era where trans people are going to very likely rapidly lose fundamental rights. Men are routinely hated on for the simple act of Being Male, as though an expressed XY Chromosome is some sort of Original Sin that automatically damns half the population to Hell instead of a man's actions, and then you wonder why guys like Andrew Tate get such a huge fucking following. NOBODY IS PURE ENOUGH FOR ANYBODY ELSE. We will not accept allies with even the SLIGHTEST fucking flaws because we want to feel morally superior and holy. Well that's how revolutions of every stripe fail: when the revolutionaries are too busy shooting at each other to actually take the fight to an inherently unjust system. A Scottish comedian (pretty sure it's Larry Dean) summed it up well years ago:

"The right doesn't care if you don't hate exactly the way they do, they're just happy you turned up! "Are you pro Trump?" "Yeah I'm pro Trump!" "Are you pro gun?" "Yeah I'm pro gun!" "Are you anti-LGBTQ?" "Yeah I'm antil LGBTQ!" "Are you anti-Muslim?" "Eh, well... no?" "Ah, don't worry about it. You'll get there eventually." Meanwhile the Left is going "Are you anti-Trump?" "Yeah I'm anti-Trump!" "Are you Pro-LGBTQ?" "Yeah I'm pro-LGBTQ!" "Are you pro Universal Healthcare?" "Yeah I'm pro-Universal Healthcare!" "Are you anti-gun?" "Eh, well... no?" "THEN WHY DON'T YOU GO FUCKING SIT WITH THE REST OF THE FUCKING NAZIS WHY DON'T YA?!"

You guys wanna talk collectivism and socialist this and that but the simple fact is that you're utterly unwilling to do one of the most essential parts of any community: accepting that other people are not you and will never be. Just like the Daleks will wipe out whole populations of their own for being a few genes off from what they judge their own current standard of purity is, we do the same to literally anyone who might want to help out but certainly does not share all of our views. And I too have been swept up in this many, MANY times as well because puritanical righteousness feels so. fucking. good. It's a drug we need to learn to kick, and FAST.

Yes, Kamala Harris fundamentally aimed her campaign efforts somewhere other than where her target was, and that was on her. You gotta bring your efforts to where your actual voters and constituents are, obviously. But just as crucially, so many people on the left threw her under the bus for not sharing their views EXACTLY. That played a huge role in costing us the election, and that character flaw will continue to cost us. You can't have a revolution of any kind unless you're willing to work with other people, because if the only Leftist you're willing to work and ally with acts, talks, and believes exactly like you, I guarantee that you'll be working alone.

As much as we talk about how modern Conservative Christians would crucify Jesus a second time if he showed up now, and as correct as that assertion is, so would American Leftists. And I think we need to have a long reckoning with that.

💯💯💯

[nineteenninety-six]

This was actually requested back in June by @tommys-proper-tea but I had completely forgotten about it :(

To say that Tommy and (Y/N) didn't get along was the understatement of the century.

No matter what, if they were in the same vicinity of each other, it would always end in an argument between the two. Insults were thrown back and forth to no end until someone, usually Polly, got them to stop.

If you asked either of them why didn't they didn't get along and constantly bicker, they would say they didn't know why but they just didn't get along.

Polly of course knew better, after watching them grow and partially raising Tommy. She knew the root of it all.

Both of them had feelings for each other and years of not admitting to themselves plus no communication had evolved into a d(Y/N)amic where they bickered and insulted each other more than anything else.

John had called a family meeting at the Garrison, including (Y/N) and she was already there with Arthur and John, waiting for the rest to arrive. John was deep in thought so the other two decided to remain silent until they were all there. Arthur poured them both a glass of whiskey

Soon Tommy and Polly arrive without Ada who was probably off with her mystery man who she refused to tell (Y/N) anything about.

"All right John, there's only one man guarding the house... what's troubling you?" Tommy gets straight to business.

"Polly, you know what it's been like since Martha died." John starts

"God takes the best first." Polly gives John's hand a sympathetic squeeze.

"The truth is, my kids have been running bloody rings around me. Running barefoot with the dogs until all hours."

"Pol, give him ten bob for some new shoes. Is that it, john?" Tommy is utterly uninterested in the conversation.

"Tommy, we'd be better to do this without you." (Y/N) snaps, tired of Tommy's nonsense.

"Now, what's your point?" Polly asks.

"What the kids need is a mother. So that's why I'm getting married."

The snug goes silent as everyone processes the news John has just dumped on them.

"Does this poor girl know you're gonna marry her or are you just gonna spring it on her all of the sudden?" (Y/N) asks, sarcastically.

"I've already proposed and she said yes."

“It's, um, it's Lizzie Stark."

“I think there's a shell about to land and go bang." Tommy mutters as he lights a cigarette.

Everyone bursts into giggles and snorts much to John's annoyance.

"John! Lizzie Stark's a strong woman, and I'm sure she provides a fine service for her customers." Polly struggles to keep the laughter at bay.

"I won't hear the word. Understand? Do not use that word."

“What word is that, John?" Tommy sighs.

“You know what word that is."

"Everybody bloody knows." Arthur laughs out his words.

“Everybody can go to hell." John grumbles.

"Whore? That word. Or prostitute? How about that one?" Tommy antagonizes John.

"All right, I want it known, if anyone calls her a whore again, I will push the barrel of my revolver down their throats, and blow the word back down into their hearts."

"Men and their cocks never cease to amaze me." Polly scoffs. "John, Lizzie Stark never did a day's work vertical."

John digs himself deeper "She's changed. All right, people change. Like with religion."

"Oh, Lizzie Stark's got religion, eh?" Tommy asks.

"No, no, she doesn't have religion, but... Well, she loves me. Now, listen, Tommy. I won't do it without your blessing. But of all the people in the world, I want you to see it... As brave."

"Oh, it's brave, all right." (Y/N) giggles and Arthur joins her.

"Brave is going where no man has gone before and with Lizzie Stark, John, that is really not what you'll be doing." Polly bursts into laughter again causing (Y/N) and Arthur to laugh too.

"Listen, Tommy, welcome her to the family as someone who's had a hard life. All right, because I need someone. All right, the kids need someone." John pleads with Tommy.

Tommy doesn't say anything, instead just takes a seat and pours himself a glass of whiskey.

"Talking about marriage, when are you two gonna get over your cute dislike of each other and finally admit you love each other?" Arthur asks, pointing between (Y/N) and Tommy.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" They ask at the same time, throwing each other a glare as they did so.

"If you were my wife, I'd put poison in your coffee" Tommy snipes.

"Well, If you were my husband, I'd drink it" (Y/N) snarks back.

"Oh god, will you two please just tell each other your real feelings towards each other, I can't deal with John and Lizzie and you two going at each other at the same time." Polly snaps

Arthur dissolves into another fit of giggles but before either Tommy or (Y/N) could speak up. Finn rushes into the snug..

"Tommy! we've been done over!".

[c-is-for-circinate]

C3 E23 post-ep!

Oh what a fucking ending on that one!

--I love this show a bunch you guys

--That fight was delightful and they all have really fun new stuff to play with, which is great. Also, headcanon that Ashton's new level-up powers come partially because, now that he remembers the stuff in his head, he's more aware of it and can do shit with it further.

--Still having thoughts about the NPC nature of the party, and what that means, because instinctively I absolutely agree with that designation but it's interesting to think about why! And you know, I do think the Hells' just sort of general, "...yeah, sure, this makes as much sense as anything" accept-any-weirdness nature is actually part of it. I'm not putting the words together properly in my head, but...there's a certain degree to which, in order to let stories move along and not get too caught up in minutia, Matt's NPCs have to just notice the inevitable weirdness of any well-rounded PC party, and just sort of nod, and go about their business, and decide Not To Ask. Why does that woman have antlers and that other one have a bear? Those sound like great questions for somebody else. Is that one a goblin? Didn't she used to be a goblin? Is that a completely different accent than that guy had last time he came through? You know what, we're just not gonna bring it up. Weirdness which directly impacts the NPCs or the things that those NPCs are created to care about, gets noticed/reacted to/commented on. Assorted weirdness that happens out of those NPCs' direct line of sight or area of focus just...doesn't get commented on. And this is exactly the spirit of the Hells' general laissez-faire attitude towards each other's assorted oddities. If it matters, it'll come up! We'll be supportive! Otherwise, eh, you know what, we in no way have time to unpack all that, so I'm just gonna let it go and forward the plot.

--Having feelings about Ashton "don't like anyone" Greymoore immediately lunging for the chain gun as soon as the last manta ray is down, and having way more feelings about him scooping Orym up to put him inside to bed. And the way he told Laudna to get to cover. And the way he clearly had no idea what to do with FCG's whole 'you're our leader!' thing, but was willing to at least nominally try. (I am maybe still a little salty about some of the meta going around a couple of weeks ago about how Ashton's chip-on-his-shoulder antisocial tendencies were obvious and complete, his only loyalties were transactional, and anybody suggesting otherwise was bringing their personal biases to bear in inaccurate ways. I am going to remain a little salty about said meta throughout this trip to Ashton's hometown and as we continue to get more and more evidence of how much he cares about people and tries to tell himself he doesn't.) Anyway, I very much appreciate Orym, who is always instantly the guy trying to get in the way of the blow and shield his teammates, being the one who gets rescued by the two flimsy glass canon girls, and then being picked up and carried to bed with encouraging words by the other tank who purports not to care about anybody.

--I have been avoiding talking about that final scene because holy shit that final scene but just. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

--I am going to hate it if Imogen decides not to believe Laudna (who's telling the truth!), and further isolates herself, and this causes a rift. I will hate it! I will also absolutely devour any resolution that comes when they reconcile over such a thing. On the other hand, if they decide to subvert that tropic expectation -- if Imogen gets a good night's sleep and remembers that, oh right, she trusts her best friend! with anything! she knows better! -- then oh fuck I am gonna be all over that.

--Delilah why did you eat the magic rock. Delilah what did you do. Delilah are you trying to rebuild yourself a living body by eating magic rocks. Laudna you might want to do something about this before it becomes a habit--

--I am so, so fucking interested in seeing whether and if and how the Hells' collective minding-their-own-beeswax, gray morals, but mostly not actual murderers thing is going to break upon the reveal of what Chetney gets up to when they're not there. I am fascinated by how Chetney does and doesn't fit in with the rest of the group, because he's straight-up not a team player in ways that feel like they specifically invoke a particular shitty classic kind of toxic ttrpg character/player, which I can only imagine is on purpose! Going off on your own, hiding loot from the rest of the party out of general selfishness rather than plot stuff, murdering or threatening to murder average townsfolk while the rest of the party's backs are turned...like, that's a stereotype. And it's not one I could ever even imagine Travis Willingham (who's an extremely generous team player in a D&D setting, we've seen him) falling into by accident. So I'm very very curious about how this is going to break, because there's layers to this one, and I'm eager to unpick.

[kenmolly]

[ chapters. | tag list form. ]

the clock shows 9:35pm, and the expected visitors still haven't arrived yet. you're sitting in the vip room of the world's largest gambling company; your company. you specially dressed up more elegant than usual and prepared everything, are they really going to just be absent after requesting a meet-up for a busy woman like you?

"call mikey. ask where are they, and are they coming to this meet-up they requested."

"yes, ma'am." your all-time assistant dialed the bonten leader, as you rest your eyes with the taste of fresh lime lingering in your mouth. what are you drinking? lime vodka cocktail.

"ma'am, they said they're on their way. they got caught up to something, that's the reason why they're late."

you hum, finishing off your cocktail as a new one appears in front of you. not long, a knock could be heard, small chatting could be heard as well.

"the guests have arrived, miss."

"let them in." the door opens, each of the members becomes visible to you one after another. this intimidating aura around you.. let's say every one of them is actually liking you already. ran whistles, eyes glued on you as he poked the younger haitani.

"woah, she's hot."

"i know right? pity, she likes to stay in a low profile. could've fu-"

"sorry we're late, miss l/n. some fuckers just have to come to us at the wrong time" mikey cuts rindou off. you nod, standing up as you offer them a small smile.

"no worries. and y/n is fine, have a sit"

"you may drink to your heart's content, it's all on me." you eyed the bartender as he nods in acknowledgment.

"woahh, we can?? you're an amazing one, y/n!" sanzu cheered, ordering everything he hasn't tried before. why? because this is the only place he can drink all those unique cocktails. every other place only has boring ones, the pink-haired is tired of them.

"we've come here to request a gambling challenge with you, y/n," mikey states, eyes focusing on his drink. your mouth slightly parted, a huff following along after.

"gambling challenge? well.. sure. i'd be a pleasure to play with you all" you're surprised, for sure, but you kept your cool.

"no, it'd be a pleasure to play with you, y/n. here's our deal.. if you, y/n win! we'll do anything for you for the rest of our lives! but, if you lose even just once.. you're joining us; join bonten." kokonoi says, winking at you at the end with his tongue stuck out.

"interesting.. alright, deal."

"great! oh and I forgot to mention, each of us will choose different ways to gamble and take turns to play with you. agree?"

"agreed. so, shall we start?" smile still plastered on your face, a few assistants went to each of the members and ask how will they play. they brought in supplies, placing them on each of the tables prepared.

first off.. you vs mikey. walking over, everyone's eyes were still on you. you just have this.. aura that really attracts them. the way you walk, the way you drink, the way you smile, the way you talk.. everything. you're so attractive, it's just like a drug. you sat down and glanced at the supplies prepared. 'weird.. this isn't any game that I've played. oh, this will be fun.'

"my game's simple. you've played this as a kid before.. guess which cup has this little fish figure. the other two would only have a coin. the first to reach 10 points will win; one point will be deducted if you chose the cup with a coin. any cheats are allowed, too. sounds like fun, right?" mikey played around with the fish figure as he smiled.

"that's pretty creative, leader. can't wait to play it with you"

"how much would you like to bet, mister manjiro?" the croupier asks. mikey thought for a few seconds before smiling at the croupier.

"hundred million."

"oh? playing it risky eh? very well.. this is the exact fun I'm seeking for. and I will bet three hundred million." amused, ran just clapped, and a few of the rest whistles.

you kept losing at first, but that doesn't matter.. you're just figuring out what kind of tricks he's using. once you did, you just kept winning, and winning, and winning.

"10 - 8! miss l/n has won the game!" cheering filled the room, of course. you just smile and nod, and walk over to the next table. sanzu vs you.

one after another, you won each of the games and won the gamble. surprising, isn't it?

"woah, looks like the rumors were true! you never once lost to someone, have you?" the haitani's surrounded you, their hands hanging on each of your shoulders.

"who knows. I'll let it stay as a rumor, it's fun" you paused, "since I won, you all would do anything for me for the rest of your lives, correct?"

kokonoi nods, as you offer them another usual smile of yours, but this time it was a little more.. different.

"very well, let me join bonten."

© cara (@kenmolly). all rights reserved. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Ace of Hearts

Sam “Ace” Rothstein x Reader

Hi guys! Corny title, I KNOW, but I’m so incredibly happy to finally be posting this. I’ve been working on it since December, and it’s probably the longest thing I’ll ever write! Just to give you a quick rundown: it’s based off of Casino so you’ll see some familiar events and verbiage, but it’s told out of order to fit what I wanted and there’s a new character (Miss y/n). I have worked so so hard on this, so I hope you all love it! Thank you so much!

TW: smut, anything in Casino that triggers you may be in here, violence, injury, drinking, smoking, drugs, death, threats, cheating/affair, divorce, cursing, etc.

Word Count: 17.9k

"(Y/N)! Good evening, it's nice to see you, hun," Sam says, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug and giving you a kiss on the cheek, "Looking beautiful as always." You place a hand on his chest, taking in the scent of his cologne; he always smelled good and expensive.

You are at Sam's casino, The Tangiers; he had invited you for dinner, like he does regularly. You and Sam are good friends; you met through Billy, the casino manager, and so Sam invites you to dinner there quite often. When it came to the casino, he was quite the social butterfly: always wanting to show the casino off to people and being extremely hospitable so that word-of-mouth would travel and bring new people in.

"Thank you, Sam, how have you been since I last saw you?" Most people call him Ace, but he had introduced himself you as Sam, for some reason, so it just stuck.

"Really good, actually, I have some news for you," you had become a person that Sam likes to confide in; he trusts you, and he says it's nice to get a woman's perspective.

"And what is that?" you ask with a smile as you head towards your usual table.

"I'm dating someone," he says with a grin, trying not to be too proud of himself.

"Sam! Really? You found a girl?!" you stop, taking his hand, waiting for details.

"Yeah, we just got together a few weeks ago. She's... Well, she's like me, I guess," you both start walking towards the table again, "She's driven and she's got a big presence when she walks in a room. And she's just got this spark; I don't know what it is about her."

"Ah, he must be going on about Ginger," Billy says as you walk up to where he's seated, waiting on you, "yeah, he was starstruck the moment he laid eyes on her."

"She'll be here soon; I'd like you to meet her," Sam says to you. Despite being a very confident man, there were certain people he likes to get approval from; you feel honored to be one of those people.

So, you take your seats at the table, and as promised, Ginger is there only a little while later. You can tell it's her; she is exactly the way Sam described her. Her tall, blonde figure really captures everyone's attention, especially Sam's.

"Hey, gorgeous," Sam greets her, motioning for her to slide into the booth next you him.

"Hi, Sam," she hands him her clutch purse and sits down, giving him a peck on the lips. He goes around and introduces her to everyone at the table including you. She seems like she has a great personality and excellent people skills, but you couldn't help but feel a little jealous that she called him Sam too. You thought you were the only one, but it makes sense considering she is his girlfriend.

After everyone is settled in and food orders placed, Ginger leans forward so she can see past Sam to talk to you. "(Y/N)?" she says kind of quietly.

"Oh, hey!" you reply casually.

"I just wanted to say," she starts, "Sam talks about you a lot; it's nice to finally meet you, and I hope we can be friends. There aren't a lot girls in this business," she says with a bit of a chuckle at the end.

At that moment you both realize Sam is listening in on your conversation.

"Oh, well, thank you, Ginger. Any girl good enough for Sam must be really spectacular; he's a picky man!"

He puts his arm around her, "Spectacular is a good word to describe her." He takes your hand in one of his for just a moment, squeezing lightly and giving you a happy look, proud that you and her are getting along.

• • •

Over the next few months, you see Sam fall madly in love with Ginger. She couldn't deny that he was a very sweet man who gave her respect and anything should could ever ask for, but you could tell she never reciprocated those feelings as much as Sam. You get the feeling that she loved what he could do for her more than the man he was, but then again, maybe she's just slow to fall in love and you're being overprotective of your friend.

You trust Sam and know that even though he's in love, he'll maintain a level head. He treats everything like a business transaction.

As it turns out, that's exactly how he handles their engagement from what he tells you. You had stopped in for a visit at the casino, so he is sitting with you and catching up before he heads back out to the floor.

"Yeah, I told her that I know her feelings haven't developed as quickly as mine, but that if she lets me marry her, she'll be taken care of for the rest of her life, and she won't have to hustle the streets anymore. The love will come, I know it will," Sam explains to you, although it seemed like that last part was for him.

"And she said yes?" you ask.

"Yes. She said yes. She even agreed to have a baby with me." You'd never seen such a happy look in his eyes; Sam had always wanted a family, and it took a long time, but it's finally happening for him.

While this worried you a bit, you press on, "So, when's the wedding?!" you try to joke.

"Oh, well, uh... In a year at least. We want to have the baby first; it was part of our deal."

"What? Sam," you try to make sense of what he just told you, "you don't find it a little odd that you had to negotiate your own engagement, and that you can't trust her to have a baby with you 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 you're married?"

"I mean, it's unconventional, but that's just Vegas."

"No, love is love, no matter what city you're in. You deserve someone who will love you and respect you as much as you love and respect them. Not many people see it, but you have such a big heart, Sam; don't let someone take advantage of it," you place your hands on his, and his eyes glance up at you. You both share a knowing look. As much as Sam respects your opinion, nothing will stop him once he wants something, and he wants Ginger: her trust, her respect, and her love.

You see Sam and Ginger several times throughout their pregnancy, and honestly, they couldn't be happier. Sam is going to have the baby he always wanted, and Ginger is getting all the attention in the world for carrying Sam Rothstein's child. You think maybe this will solve all their problems.

• • •

Just a few months after the baby was born, you received an invitation to their wedding. You had been by their apartment a few weeks prior to visit and meet the baby, and gosh, she was so cute. Sam lit up when he held her; he was so proud of his baby girl, Amy. But Sam hadn't mentioned anything about a wedding happening so soon, although they do have the money to make one happen quickly.

The wedding is very nice, although it's more of a party than a wedding. Ginger is a socialite, so it only makes sense that there would be more attention on the reception than the ceremony.

You go sit with Nicky and his wife Jennifer so that you can hold the baby, while Sam and Ginger cut the cake and share champage. This is supposed to be a happy moment for them, but you can tell something is off. Maybe it's because they don't have baby fever anymore; parenting is not easy, so that's what you chalk it up to.

As you're making faces getting the baby to giggle, you see Sam sneak off into a back room, presumably looking for Ginger. You continue to entertain their baby while you wait for him to come back; you hadn't really gotten a chance to see him all night, and you want to show your support and congratulate him.

As you chat with Nicky, you see Ginger and Sam return from wherever they had gone; only problem is, they went two different directions and Ginger had clearly been crying. That's not normal behavior for newly weds. Nicky takes notice as well and says, "Eh, uh, why don't you go check on him? I'll take the baby."

And so, you hand him Sam's little bundle of joy, and make your way across the ballroom to your friend. He had been pulled into a conversation that he clearly didn't want to be having, so you tap him on the shoulder and excuse him from the group of people. He puts his hand around your waist as you walk off.

"Dance with me," you say simply, and he happily agrees. You knew you'd be able to talk privately because you'd be so close to him on the dancefloor, and it wouldn't look suspicious like if you swept him away to a different room.

"Trouble in paradise already?" you ask him, "You two have been so happy the past few months, what's going on?"

"Well, I guess maybe she realized this is the end of the road, and that I'm the one she'll be stuck with the rest of her life... Whatever the reason, she felt the need to call her pimp, Lester Diamond," he explains, pursing his lips at the end; he was really frustrated and trying not to show it.

"What did she call him for? She doesn't still love him or something, does she?"

"She says she called him to let him know it was over and that she's married now. He was her first love, and the only thing in this whole world she's got a soft spot for."

"Oh, Sam... You don't deserve that; you don't deserve someone that's holding onto their baggage with someone else."

"Well then maybe I should've married someone like you," he says with a small laugh and a look of longing in his eyes. He pulls you even closer to him, and you hold him a bit tighter in an effort to comfort him.

"You shouldn't say things like that on your wedding day," you say quietly next to his ear.

"But it's true. You've got the looks, the personality, a great heart, but for some reason, I only want Ginger, or at least for a while I did." With that, he stares into your eyes for a little while, before kissing you on your jawline and neck a few times.

After a pause, you say, "Well, I hope that was the last time she calls him. You deserve nothing but the best, but I know how much you love her, so I hope you two will find happiness with one other." You decide not to say anything about the way he implied that he wanted to be with you or the way he just kissed you; maybe that would make it worse. That probably isn't how he really feels; he's probably just speaking from a place of being hurt by Ginger. You stop dancing and hug him, "Congratulations on your big day, it was beautiful and glamorous in way that only Sam Rothstein could do."

You both share a laugh and hopeful smiles. His hand finds yours as you start to walk away, and he gives it a squeeze before letting his arm drop to his side.

"Everything okay?" Nicky asks when you get back to the table.

"Yeah, everything's gonna be fine," there wasn't much point in explaining it to him, he had a thing for Ginger, so he would make excuses for her. Plus it wasn't your news to share, Sam trusted that you would keep his secrets, because that's how you'd always been.

You grabbed your things to leave, and you shot one quick glance back at Sam before heading out. He was hugging Ginger, trying to comfort her; that didn't stop the nasty look she gave you when she saw you looking at her man. "Sadly, he belongs to her now," you think as you take in the cool night air outside the wedding chapel, "legally, at least."

• • •

The next several months of their marriage only take a turn for the worse. The issue isn't that they don't understand each other, it's that they're exactly alike: both strong-minded with the will to get what they want. The issue is that the things they want don't align with the other person's goals. Sam wants a successful casino and to have Ginger's love, but Ginger is someone who can't be tamed; she wants money wherever she can get it, and she wants to be the center of attention.

The thing that works on Sam's nerves more than anything is that Ginger just refused to cut ties with Lester Diamond.

"She just keeps- she- she asked me for all this money, and she won't tell me what it's for," Sam is fuming as he vents to you about his wife, "She knows I would give her anything she wants of she'll just tell me what it's for. She won't be honest with me, and that's how I know she's up to no good."

"What do you think the money is for?" you ask, placing your hand on his. He had come over to your house just to visit and have a few drinks. This has become a regular thing since he married Ginger; he relies on your company and your advice.

"Mmm, it's just a suspicion, but I think it might be for that pimp." He rubs his thumb across the back of your hand as he held it.

"I thought she ended things with him, but I wouldn't put it past her to go behind your back. I'm sorry that you can't trust your own wife; I know you value that so much."

"Well, I'm at least glad to know that someone in this world still has values like me. In a town like Las Vegas, everyone is so cutthroat. Sometimes I think you and Billy are the only ones left with a moral compass."

"You have one too, Sam, and a good heart," you pull him towards you, and he lies across the couch to place his head in your lap. He is only casual like this with a few people, but he finds it fun to kick back and relax with you. He looks up at you while you gently comb your fingers though his hair; eventually it will work the gel out of his hair, but you like it when he let his waves hang loose. "What are you gonna do about her giving Lester that money?"

"Hm, I don't know yet," he answers with raised eyebrows and a shoulder shrug.

"What if you let her have the money?"

"So she can give it to that scumbag?"

"Listen, honey," you chuckle at him, "what if you let her have the money, knowing she's going to give it to Lester, but you and Nicky's guys show up with her. Put him in his place, rough him up, that way he won't come begging on her doorstep again. AND she'll see what happens if she tries to give him your money again."

A surprised look appears on his face, "Damn, baby, you been hanging out with Nicky, taking some notes from him? It almost sounds like you hate my wife or something!" You both laugh together.

Your laughter dies off, and you look down at his face in your lap, "I hate the way she treats you." It's the simple truth; he deserves better.

• • •

A few weeks later, you're at a pool party at Billy's place. Las Vegas summers are hot, so pools are basically a requirement out here.

Normally, Sam brought Ginger to these kinds of things; that's just what you were supposed to do, but you had convinced him to come by himself. At first the thought made him uncomfortable, because he knew it would cause another argument at home, but he also just wanted to get away for a while. And so, he left Ginger with a stack of cash, told her to go shopping, and came over to Billy's.

You don't notice Sam when he first arrives; you're in the pool taking to some of Billy's business associates, some you had met before, some you hadn't. One of these guys has made himself really comfortable with you: grabbing at your hips and trying to keep you close to him. You're used to men like this putting their hands on you, and it's normally very casual, but this guy is being more aggressive than you are used to.

He's putting his arms around you and pulling you really close to his chest. You use your arms as a barrier between you and him; it's really more awkward than anything.

"Excuse me?"

You look over your shoulder to see Sam standing at the edge of the pool.

"Yeah?" the guy asks, adjusting his arm around you once again.

"Would you mind if the lady came with me?" Sam asked, pouring on the charm.

"She's fine here."

"Looks like she'd rather be with me" Sam says giving you a coy look.

The guy look at you, then back at Sam, "And who the fuck are you?" he replies, rudely.

"Someone you don't want to piss off." Sam takes your hand, and you free yourself from this other man. Sam helps you out of the pool and snags a towel for you to wrap yourself up in.

"Thank you for that," you tell Sam as you walk over to a table where Billy and his wife are.

"Eh, I'm sorry that he felt he could treat you like that. He'll be taken care of." You know what that means.

There are several people gathered around the table, people Sam and Billy work with at the casino, but they're also friends. Sam takes a seat in one of the lounge chairs and pulls you into his lap. Everyone at the table says their hello's and Sam whipsers to you, "Thank you for inviting me... And suggesting I leave the wife at home." He rubs a hand across your thighs and the other rests on your back.

This is a crowd that you and Sam are comfortable being close in. You two were always like this before he got with Ginger, so it feels nice to have him close to you again. You gently squeeze at his side, while he lights a cigarette and takes a puff. He offers it to you, but you just smile and shake your head.

"Hey, Billy," Sam starts.

"Yeah, Ace?" he asks, turning his attention to the man next to you.

"You see that dopey ass motherfucker in the pool over there?" Sam asks, pointing with his cigarette between his fingers, "The tall one at the center of that group?"

"Yeah, yeah, I see him. Did he do something?"

"He thought it was okay to make (Y/N) here uncomfortable, and he tried to mouth off at me about it," Sam explains.

"(Y/N), is that true? What did he do to you?" Billy asks you.

"He was just being weird and way too handsy. I tried to get away from him but he would just grab me if I did that. I didn't wanna make a scene though."

Billy turns to look back at the group of guys in the pool, "And all those guys with him just let it happen, huh?" He turns back to you, "It'll be handled. That's unacceptable."

Sam gives your waist a squeeze, and you share a look with him. "You gonna get in the pool at all today?" you ask him, motioning to his outfit: khaki slacks, a button up shirt (unbuttoned a little bit), and a pale pink sports coat.

"I don't know, I'm having a good time right here. You look good in that bikini, baby," he whispers the last part, rubbing his fingers over the string on your back, "it doesn't leave much to the imagination..."

"Just the parts that all you boys want to see," you bite your lip, and you both giggle quietly.

The afternoon goes by with casual conversation as you and Sam lounge back in your chair with you leaning against his chest and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. He keeps his arms around you, as he chats and enjoys some drinks and cigarettes with the guys at the table.

Soon, the sun begins it's descent before the moon comes out, which means the temperature is dropping too. Vegas has some of the hottest days and the coldest nights.

You sit up from your cozy spot against Sam's chest and pluck the cigarette holder from between his lips. He raises his eyebrows at you as you take a drag off of it, then you exhale the smoke at the same time as him.

A warm smile spreads across your face as you return the cigarette to him. "I'm gonna go change," you whisper to him before getting up and heading inside Billy's house.

Upstairs in the bathroom, you take your change of clothes out of your bag and lay them out on the counter. You hear a small knock at the door before Sam enters the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Sam? What are you doing?" you ask him.

He walks over and places himself behind you, looking you up and down in the mirror. He wraps his arms around your midsection and rests his chin on your shoulder, making eye contact with you, again in the mirror.

"You're so beautiful," is all he says before one hand travels to your hip, and his lips find your skin. He kisses at your neck slowly but sensually; you close your eyes as your back arches into him. He has you turned on in a matter of seconds; you had never realized you wanted him this bad.

One of his hands slides up your back and pulls the string of your bikini top, untying it and leaving your back bare. Your top hangs on by the knot at the back of your neck.

His kisses grow increasingly sloppy as he becomes more turned on for you. One of his hands cups at the underside of your breast, while the other holds your hips in place. You feel his erection in his pants against your backside, as he unties one of the knots at your hip.

"Sam-" You want him badly, but your conscience won't let you do this. "Sam."

His motions stop and he looks up at you in the mirror. You turn around in his arms so that you can look him in the eyes. With a bittersweet look on your face, you say, "We can't do this. You're married, Sam. We can't do this, especially not in Billy's house."

A look of clarity comes to his eyes as you talk some sense into him. "Yeah, yeah, you're right," he answers. He reaches for a towel and wraps it around your body, as if to cover up the thing that was tempting him. You tie the towel in place and go ahead and remove your bikini, dropping it to the floor. Sam pulls you into a hug, holding your toweled waist tight, "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry."

• • •

The next time you see Sam is just for a normal get-together at The Tangiers. Being the gentleman he is, he treats you as if the incident at Billy's place never happened, and it's best this way; he's one of your best friends after all.

This dinner is anything but normal, however. Ginger had started to catch on to Sam leaving her at home. You got the feeling Nicky was the one who let her in on that secret.

Ginger storms into the casino, making a scene like she always does; she's always been the kind of person you hear before you see when she's angry. Security follows her over as she makes her way to the table with their little girl on her hip. Sam stands up and rushes over to her, in an effort to keep Ginger away from everyone at the table. It doesn't work that well, she continues pushing towards the table as she screams at him about leaving her at home and making her take care of their toddler.

Sam gets the kid from Ginger, and she pushes past him and towards you, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU PUT THE IDEA IN HIS HEAD TO START SNEAKING AROUND ON ME!"

You sit there, completely taken back. You would try to say something, but you wouldn't get a word in as Ginger is letting you have it.

Sam comes over, grabbing Ginger's arm and pulling her to face him, "What the fuck is the matter with you? What the fuck is the MATTER WITH YOU?! Bringing our kid here at this time of night! Screaming at (Y/N)!" He points at you, "You ain't had nothin' to do with her since you met!! And you wanna come in here and blame your problems on her?!"

You had never seen Sam so angry before, screaming at the top of his lungs like this in front of everyone, in his own casino. There was a pause as everyone waited for what was gonna happen next.

Quietly, Ginger speaks, "Oh my God," her voice cracked like she was about to cry, "oh my God, you're defending her..." She turns to walk away, crying into her hands. Sam quickly hands Amy over to you and runs after Ginger.

Security follows them, and everyone at the table sits in silence as you all listen to Ginger yell and cry at Sam on the way outside, "You never defended me! To anyone! For anything! You've never defended me like that!"

• • •

A few days later, flowers show up at your house with a note from Sam.

"I'm so sorry for the other night and how crazy things have been lately. Let's go out and I'll make it up to you. -S. R."

Attached is a reservation card telling you that you're having dinner with him tonight at a small restaurant you used to go to when Sam first moved out to Las Vegas.

"I'm so glad you actually came. I thought maybe you didn't want anything to do with me after Ginger yelled at you like that."

"Have I ever been the type of girl that would blame you for your wife's actions?" you say greeting him with a kiss on the cheek, "it's good to see you all in one piece; I was worried what she might do to you." You both chuckle and sit down at your table.

"I just- uhh, I just wanted to take you out like we used to do before everything got so crazy. Back when I was still getting used to the desert and Billy introduced me to you; it was just simple... and always fun when you were around. So I just thought maybe we could re-live that for a night," Sam explains his reasoning for bringing you here alone.

"Well I think it'll be fun," you say reaching over and giving his hand an encouraging squeeze, "This place always had great food!" You lean back in your seat, slide your heels off under the table, and prop your feet up in Sam's lap across from you. He raises his eyebrows, giving you a look. "Well you said you wanted it to be like old times!" you exclaim.

After dinner and dessert, you both sit back with your bellies full. The food was so rich and lovely; you both ate so much more than you normally would have, but you aren't in the company of anyone fancy so you cut loose.

"You wanna get out of here? I got somewhere I'd like to take you," Sam asks.

"Ooooh, honey, I don't think I can move, I'm so full!" you groan at him, "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere you took me when I first moved here and I needed some peace and quiet from the city."

And with that, you let him take you by the hand and lead you out to his car. When you cruise past the strip and out into the dark dessert, you lean on his shoulder and ask, "You're not gonna whack me, are you?"

"Now, I couldn't tell you if I was. Typically the guy you're gonna whack doesn't ask ya, and typically the guy you're gonna whack is a guy," you both laugh. Tonight really had been like old times.

You slide over and lay down, laying your head in his lap. He put his arm across your chest and shoulder as if you were an arm rest, and he looks down at you. "Eyes on the road, Mr. Rothstein!"

"Yes, ma'am" he cracks a smile and looks up like he's supposed to.

Parked just a few miles out in the desert, Sam gets out the car, grabbing a blanket from the back, and tossing it across the hood of the car. He also grabs an extra jacket for you for when it gets cold.

"Alright, get outta the car," he says, looking at you laid across the front seat of his Cadillac.

"Mmmm... but I'm so cozy here," you whine.

Sam grabs you by your feet and drags you across the seat to pull you up out of the car. Once you're on your feet, he grips both of your shoulders and looks you over, "Princess. You're a spoiled princess, you know that?" He grabs your hips and lifts you onto the hood of the car before walking around and hopping up to sit next to you.

"It's been forever since I came out here... Thank you for bringing me," you tell Sam as you lean back on the windshield of his car and look up at the endless sea of stars in the night sky. Out here in the desert, there was no light pollution, and it was such a clear night, it felt like there were a million stars up there.

"Want this?" Sam asks holding up his extra jacket.

You take it from him and bundle up in it. It was warm and smelled like him, like he had worn it recently or perhaps sprayed his cologne on it.

He put his arm around your shoulders; together, you looked up at night sky and talked, occasionally pointing out constellations or planets.

The lower the temperature drops, the more you snuggle into Sam. Every few moments you glance at each other, sometimes making eye contact and smiling at each other.

"Mm, come here," Sam grumbles pulling you into a full-on cuddle.

"Cold?" you joke.

"Nope, you're just too far away," he nuzzles his nose into your hair and leaves a kiss there.

You turn your head to face him, "Sam."

He places his hand on your cheek and sarcastically replies, "(Y/N)."

Your eyes linger on one another's for what feels like several minutes; for a moment, the whole world fell away and it was just the two of you. You both lean in, gently pressing your lips to one another's. You move your lips together slowly and carefully, as if you might break something. The moment lasts a long time, but not long enough.

Sam pulls back to look at you, "I love you."

You open your mouth to protest, but all that comes out is, "I love you, too."

Without another word, you both agree to not discuss it. Whether you liked it or not, things were about to get complicated, so you both just want things to be simple for the night.

• • •

You had always assumed Sam was the kind of man to take a woman to bed quickly in a relationship. Of course, your relationship is anything but conventional; you'd been friends for years, but now it was obvious those feelings of friendship had been something more all along.

You had spent some time together a few times since your outing to the desert. He greeted you with a kiss each of those times you met up, because you made sure to meet in private; word couldn't get out about this, or it would cause trouble with Ginger and the crime family Nicky and Sam were in. The family wouldn't take so kindly to Ginger causing a big scene over Sam's infidelity.

You and Sam also really wanted to take things slow; you didn't want to ruin a good friendship by rushing. So when he came to your house or you met in his office, you spent a lot of time in his arms, kissing him, and not too much more.

But your job right now is to act like none of that exists, like everything is just the way it's always been. You're at a big celebration for Sam; the gaming commission is giving an award to him for being such an important asset in the success of gambling in Las Vegas. Everyone who knows Sam is there; it's his big night!

As events like this usually go, Sam is at a table on a stage at the front of the room. His closest friends are all sat together: you, Billy, Nicky, Ginger, and a few others. On the surface everything is cool, but you know this mix of people isn't good news.

There are rumors floating around that the FBI agents keeping an eye on Nicky had gotten some pictures of him and Ginger together. Sam didn't want to pry into it; he didn't want another reason to be mad with her. Sam had also recently told you that Ginger's mysterious phone calls had started up again, and she refused to tell him who she was calling at all hours of the day. You and Sam both knew what that meant: Ginger is being anything but faithful to him.

It's a lovely dinner, aside from Ginger's remarks. It's almost like she knows about you and Sam somehow. Every time she mentions him, she makes sure to watch your reaction, and she makes several remarks like, "proud to call him my man," and, "so glad he belongs to me," while staring you down.

In an effort to try and make friendly conversation with Ginger, you lean over you her to say, "You know, I think Sam likes girls like us, because we're both like him: social and in the business. We make what he does look glamorous." You give her a hopeful smile.

She cuts her eyes and hits you with, "No, Sam likes a woman like me; we both came from the streets and had to hustle our way into money. Anyone can be a socialite in a nice gown. Some of us have more to show for it."

Upon hearing that, Billy gives Ginger a look of disapproval and puts his arm around you to comfort you. It couldn't be more obvious that she is trying to get a rise out of you, but you won't stoop to her level making a scene like that.

Ginger leans into Nicky, and you don't say much the rest of dinner.

After the award was presented to Sam and it's time to mingle, you work your way over to Sam, stopping to chat with several people along the way. As you approach him, it seems like the two of you only have eyes for each other. He greets you with a big smile spread across his face, a hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

With his hands on your waist, and your hands on his chest, you tell him, "I'm so proud of you. You work so hard, and you've been so good for Las Vegas."

"Yeah, well, Las Vegas has been good to me," he says looking you in your eyes lovingly, and raising his eyebrows briefly.

What you don't realize is that Ginger sees the whole exchange, but she does something very out of character: she keeps her cool... For now.

• • •

"It was... It was the way you looked at her. You didn't have to look at her like that," Ginger sobs into the pillow on her and Sam's bed.

"How did I look at her? Huh? What did I do?" Sam questions her, pacing around their bedroom.

Ginger shifts to look up at Sam with tear-filled eyes, "Like you love her... You looked at her like you love her."

"Ginger-" Sam starts and pauses to keep his composure, "What do you care how I look at her? You me you didn't love me! And I thought I could change you!"

There was a pause before he continued, "You're not making any goddamn sense; I don't know why I'm trying to talk any sense into you. You been drinkin' all the time, and those fuckin painkillers you took have your brain so fucked up right now... I don't even know why I'm trying; it's not worth it."

"You really feel that way?" she asks quietly.

"Feel what way?"

"That I'm not worth it. You really think that I'm not worth it?" she sits up and pushes some of the hair out of her face.

That small bit of love Sam still had for Ginger creeped back up; he couldn't hurt her like that.

He sat on the bed next to her, "No," he says as he pulls her into his chest, "I don't feel that way." He simply holds her as she cries into his shoulder.

• • •

"I guess she's spread herself too thin," Sam vents to you as you lie on your couch cuddling, "I think the drinking and the drugs are a distraction from all the men she's trying to hold down. She's never been able to keep Lester under control, Nicky is getting all kinds of heat on him with the cops in Vegas, and she's realized I don't love her the way I used to, or maybe the way I thought I did."

The last part was mostly directed at himself; Sam is coming to terms with the decision he made when he married Ginger, and he's realizing that maybe it wasn't love at all. After all, lust isn't built on trust and respect.

"Don't blame yourself for falling for her. She said something to me the other night, and as hurtful as it was, it was true."

"What did she say to you?" he asks, sitting up a bit and furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well, uh, I just told her that I think you like girls like us because we're like you, but we make the business more glamorous. And she told me that you would only like a woman like her because you both worked for the success you have, and that means you and her have more to show for it."

"She said that to you?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. If you went to her about it, it would only cause you more problems," you try to get him to relax. There was no point in him getting stressed over it.

He sighs and lays back down, holding you tight, "I'm so sorry she said that to you. It's not true. I think her and I understand each other because of our backgrounds, but I think you know I like you just as much, if not more than I ever liked her."

"I thought you might say something like that. That's why I tried to not let it bother me," you look up and kiss him a few times.

He turns you to lay on your back, and he puts his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair on the back of his head.

"I wish we could just run away. I made such a mistake starting a life with Ginger. I meant it-" his voice catches a bit, "I meant it when I told you I love you. I wish I could just put her in the past and spend the rest of my days with you."

His voice got so soft at the end of his statement. From this position you couldn't see his face, and you figured there was a reason for that, as you felt some dampness forming on your shirt.

You had never seen Sam cry over anything. In that moment, it made you realize how real his feelings are. Even after all the hell Ginger put him through, it didn't break him as much as the idea of being with you.

He lies there and tries to keep his breathing even, while you wrap your arms around him and hold him. He just desperately needs love and comfort from a woman who really cares about him.

• • •

Sam and Ginger got to the point that they could hardly stand to be around one another, so they take periods of separation from one another, and they trade off who keeps Amy. Although, Sam will admit that he's more at ease when his little girl is with him.

Whenever Sam has Amy, he tries to take at least one day off work every week to spend with her. She's getting to be more of a kid than a toddler now, and she enjoys spending time with her daddy.

Today, Sam invited you along to the park and a for a picnic with Amy; it's what she asked for!

"You look pretty in your little sundress, baby," Sam compliments you, as he pushes his kid on the swing.

"It's nice seeing you dressed down a bit, too. Turns out it isn't the suit jacket that makes you so handsome!"

He was just wearing slacks and a button up shirt: sleeves rolled up, no tie, no sports coat. Oh, and don't forget the sunglasses and cigarette holder.

"Hey, Amy?" Sam calls to his daughter while she swings up and down through the air.

"Yeah, daddy?"

"You wanna go eat lunch, sweetie?"

"No!"

"No?!" Sam exclaims sarcastically, "You don't wanna go eat your lunch? I packed your favorite."

She shook her head, despite the big smile on her face.

"PB and J's?!" he asks.

She shakes her head again.

"Applesauce?"

Another no.

"Hmmm... How about those cupcakes we picked up from the bakery?"

Her little face lights up and she tries to stop the swing. Sam scoops her up on his hip to carry her over to their picnic blanket. The whole exchange is extremely adorable; you love watching Sam be a daddy to his little girl!

At lunch, surprisingly Amy stays near you. You've been babysitting her since she was a baby, and now she sees you hanging out with her dad a lot; luckily she likes you. It's really important to Sam that you two get along.

"You're gonna make a great mom one day," he says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm? And what makes you think I'll be a mom?" you ask him, helping wipe something off Amy's cheek.

"If you stay with me, and if we end up together, you'll be Amy's new mom... aaaand maybe if you really like me, we could have a baby together," he looks down at his hands with a smirk on his face.

You put your hands over Amy's ears, and joke with him, "I think we should probably have sex before you ask me to have your baby! Although, you can trust me to have your baby 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 the wedding."

You let go of Amy's ears, while you and Sam double over in laughter.

"What's so funny?" she asks sassily, sounding just like her dad.

"Nothing, honey, you'll understand when you're older," Sam replies, petting her hair.

"You always say that, daddy. Can I go play?"

"Yes, but stay where we can see you, okay?"

"Okay!" she says, already running off. She's a busy body, just like him.

Sam pulls you into a spooning position and holds you so you can both keep an eye on Amy on the playground.

"So, you want me to make love to you, huh?" he grumbles lowly in your ear, placing some kisses on your neck.

"Mmm... Why don't you come over to my place one night and find out?" you tease at him.

• • •

You assumed tonight would be just a casual night at home, and you appreciate that, because it isn't often you get alone time. You had just gotten out the shower and decided to relax in your robe on the couch for the night.

That all changes when you hear the doorbell ring.

"Who could that be? I don't think I invited anyone over," you think as you walk to the door.

"Sam!" you exclaim, seeing him on your front stoop, "what are you doing here-"

You're cut off by his lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss. He pushes you into the house and shuts the door behind him all while his lips never leave yours. He pushes you against a wall, grabbing at your hips. When his lips move down to your neck, you gasp out his name.

"Sam! What has gotten into you?" you breathe out, "What is this?"

"Mmm..." He moans, leaving little kisses at your ear, "Ginger and Amy are out of town, and... you told me to come over and make love to you."

"That's not how I said it," you laugh, before letting out a soft moan at his actions.

He reaches over and locks your front door before leading you over to the couch. His lips find yours again, then he gently lays you down, positioning himself on top of you. His hands roam your body, as your lips move with his; his tongue enters your mouth and sends chills across your skin.

You pull away from his kiss to look at him in the eyes, "I know we've been seeing each other and doing a lot of kissing, but I don't want to make you a cheater."

"Baby, it's not about cheating. Ginger and I don't wanna be together as it is; I 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 to be with 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

"Sam... are you sure? You can't go back from this."

"(Y/N), I already told you I love you. There's no going back from that." His hand snakes down to the ties on your silky robe, and pulls them loose. With his legs on either side of one of yours, he presses his hardness into your thigh. As he pulls your robe to the side just a few inches, he places soft kisses on your chest.

He pauses and looks up at you through his lashes. You place your hands on his face and shoulder, and he gives you a smile before he pulls your robe open, leaving you naked in front of him, except for the sleeves on your arms.

Sam kisses your lips lightly, then your cheek, then your neck and chest, where he starts leaving heated love bites. He gently squeezes at your breasts, as he teases them with his tongue and teeth. Soon after, he leaves a trail of kisses down your belly, leaving you with a few nips on your hipbone.

He sits up on his knees, taking your body in: your plump thighs, sensual hips, the way your breathing had become heavy, and obviously your naked parts he had always wanted to see. He moves to place himself between your legs, and he pulls one of them up, hooking your ankle on his shoulder and pressing a few kisses to your calf.

"You're beautiful," he tells you before he turns his attention back to your leg.

Sam really made you feel beautiful, but it was nothing in comparison to the way he looks: his dress shirt unbuttoned a little, shiny suit pants, large erection pressed against the fabric and poking at his waistband, his tight leather belt keeping it tame.

You're pulled from your thoughts by the feeling of Sam kissing your inner thigh; he had worked his way up to the soft, sensitive part of your leg.

He grabs you by your thighs, scooting you up the couch, giving him more room to work. Now he's bent over a bit more, placing sloppy kisses and and nibbles on your thighs as a way to get you to spread them apart. Finally, he gets down all the way, and you feel his hot breath on your center.

Seeing him crouched down on his elbows and knees, head between your legs... It's enough to make you want him. When places a few hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses on your labia, it makes you lose any fight you had to turn him down.

"Oh, Sam..." your hand slides into his hair as his tongue laps at you. He looks up making eye contact with you, and enjoying how flustered you look because of him.

He simply grins to himself and goes back to pleasing you. Your grip on his hair tightens each time he does something that you like, and he's smart: if you like it a lot, he does it over and over and over.

A few times, he moves down, licking at your entrance, testing the waters. When he hears a whine from you, he decides to stop being a tease and presses his tongue in past your lips. Your back arches up off the couch and you take in a deep breath; Sam digs his fingers into your thighs, keeping your hips firmly in place so he can continue swirling his tongue around inside you.

After a few minutes, he has mercy on you and goes back to your clitoris. He doesn't let up too much though. He slides his middle finger into you, slowly, and when he can't go any further, he curls it in a "come here" kind of motion.

"Oh, God," you let out, toes curling in pleasure.

Sam puts his lips on you and pulls your clit into his mouth, sucking on it. Jackpot. Your hand pulls his hair and you throw your head back; you can feel your climax coming. He lets out a low, grumbly moan, and it helps push you over the edge. Your orgasm comes in waves as Sam continues sucking and curling that finger; he's reveling in the feeling of you losing control at his hand.

When he decides you've had enough, he eases his motions to let you down from your high. The way he has total control over you and your body... You had never seen anything like it.

Sam crawls over you until he was face-to-face with you again to kiss you and make you taste yourself on his lips. He wraps his arms around you and picks you up, hands roaming your back as your robe hangs loosely behind you. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he takes you up to your bedroom.

"Can I ask you something, Sam?" you start.

"Of course you can, baby girl," he answers.

"Why would Ginger treat you so badly if you're this good in bed? And we haven't even made it to bed yet," you chuckle at the last part.

"I guess that's more of a question for Ginger than it is for me, but I'd really rather not talk about my wife right now," he says dropping you on your cozy bed. You lay there, arms above your head, your hair and silky robe spread out around you. Sam grabs you by wrapping his large hands around your ribcage and sits you up. It always impressed you how large and strong he is, because he keeps his muscles covered with all those suits. He pushes your robe off your shoulders, "That's better."

You giggle at him and reach out in front of you, giving his aching erection some much needed attention with the palm of your hand. Sam let's out a breath, and you take that as a sign to undo his belt. After opening his belt and unzipping his pants, you pull them down just a little, leaving them hanging on his hips. Your hand finds his member again, rubbing it through a much thinner layer of fabric, "You gonna show me what this thing can do?"

He puts a hand on the back of your head and pulls you to him. Your face nuzzles against his pelvis; you leave a few kisses on his groin and look up at him, "You want me to use my mouth on you?"

His eyes are fixed on yours as his lips pull into a half smile, "No, another time. I can't wait any longer to have you."

And with that, you pulled his pants off of his hips. He quickly works out of his shoes and pants and climbs on top of you.

"Oh, no, Mr. Rothstein! We are not doing this if you have those socks on!" you giggle at him.

He looks back at his feet, "What, you don't think they're sexy?" He turns back to you and kisses you, "I'd fuck you if you were wearing socks," he jokes before reaching back and pulling them off.

When he lays down on top of you, you work on unbuttoning his shirt while he kisses your lips and neck. A few seconds later his shirt is thrown to the floor. He wraps his arms around you as you make out, pressing your bodies together; like this, you can feel his muscles, his warmth, and his love, as if he was the thing you always needed.

His kisses slow down, and he pulls back to look at you, "I love you, (Y/N), and I mean it."

"I love you, too, Sam," you nearly whisper. After a short pause and Sam rubbing your cheek with his thumb, you ask, "Will you take those underwear off already? You're going awfully slow for a man who said he didn't want to wait anymore."

He smiles and shakes his head sarcastically at you, but he sits up on his knees and pushes them off, "Better?" he snarks.

"Better."

He was sexier than you ever could've imagined. He left a lot to the imagination with all his suits, but like this, you got to take in his loving eyes, messed up hair, soft skin, toned arms, and the chest hair that made a lovely trail down to his large member that's standing at attention for you.

"Come here, sexy," you command.

"Who? Me?" he points to himself, jokingly.

You reach up, and grab his hands, pulling him down on top of you again, "Yes, you."

He lets out an excited moan, kicking his underwear to the floor and snaking a hand down between your thighs. As his fingers tease at your clit, he asks, "You ready, baby doll?"

"Very ready."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling your legs up to wrap around his waist, slicking up the head of his cock with spit and a little precum. The next moments are filled with moans from the two of you, as he lines up with your wet entrance and begins to enter you. His hips work slowly, giving small motions to sink into you.

You could tell from the way his hips were bucking lightly that he was torn between taking things slow and fucking into you hastily, right then and there. It's the neediest you'd ever seen him; it's sexy the way you make him lose a bit of that control he always has.

As soon as he's got enough length inside you, he starts rocking into you, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. "Baby, you feel so good," he says as he buries a hand in your hair and his face in your neck, kissing you. His breathing becomes more intense, and his back arches a bit allowing for some room for him to work his hand on you again.

As if the feeling of his hardness pushing in and out of you wasn't enough, his fingers start making circles on your clit, drawing moans from your mouth. "Oh, God, those noises... You're gonna drive me crazy," he whispers in your ear before leaving a few bites on your lobe.

He moves so he can kiss you and look at your pretty face while he makes love to you. He's so excellent, pleasing your clitoris while thrusting his hips into you. You lean up to leave a series of kisses and nips on his neck and collarbone; your fingernails leaving scratches on his back and hands tangling his normally perfect hair.

"Oh, fuck..." you hear Sam say as he slows down his movements.

"You okay, honey?" you ask, concerned.

"More than okay, baby, I just got close," he answers, looking almost embarrassed. It's hard to tell if the flush on his cheeks is from answering your question or from pleasure.

"You could've finished if you wanted," you say with a warm smile.

"Oh, no. I'm not done with you yet, princess." He sits up on his knees, snaking his arm around your back and gripping your hips to lift you off the bed. His other hand rests on your pelvis, and his thumb flicks over your clit. He starts rocking you back and forth on his dick, "How about that? You like that?"

Judging by your moans and the way your back arches for him, he got his answer. He picks up his pace until he's fucking into you with quick, hard thrusts, and your thighs clap against his belly. His fingers relentlessly try to please you, and it's working: you're coming apart at the seams once again for him.

When you feel your second orgasm coming on, you can't help but also feel a little surprised... but also so turned on that he made a mess of you, twice.

Feeling your orgasm and feeling you tighten around his hard length, Sam loses himself. His hips buck into you wildly as he cums deep inside you. He sits back on his heels, and pulls you up to straddle his lap. He pumps into you a few more times while he holds you close to him, kissing anywhere his lips can reach.

Your lips meet and you kiss him several times, both of you feeling very satisfied. You comb your fingers through his hair, fixing it a little bit; he seems to like that. His arms are wrapped around you, and he just holds you on his lap like that for a few minutes, kissing your chest.

He lays his head against your shoulder, and let's out a deep breath, "Yeah, I'm in love," he giggles and stares up at you with an innocent, happy look.

"Me too," you say quietly, kissing his head with a bit of a sad look on your face.

"Hey!" he gets you to look down at him, "You okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah... I just wish we could be together, and that it wouldn't be so complicated," you tell Sam.

He lays you down on the bed, pulling out of you, then he lays next to you and holds you in his arms, "Me too, baby, me too. I just feel bad because it's my fault we can't be together like we want to."

"Oh, Sam, you know I don't blame you for that. No one enters into a bad marriage on purpose."

"No, but you were always right about her. I should've listened to you, considering I came to you for advice. She never cared about me."

"Yeah, but you cared about her, and you still do," you say with a warm smile, "she's the mother of your child. You have a big heart, Sam."

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold his head against your chest. "I care about you, too," you hear him mutter.

"I know you do. I care about you, too," you whisper, snuggling into him to drift off to sleep in his arms.

• • •

The sex was amazing, but there's nothing like waking up in the arms of someone you love, at least, that's how you feel this morning. The way Sam clings to you, almost desperately, lets you know that while you may not wake exactly like this every morning, you will wake up loved each morning.

As you begin to stir a bit, Sam's arms squeeze around you, not wanting you to leave your comfortable spooning position. He grumbles to himself a few times before finally cracking his eyes open to tell you, "Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning," you respond, as he lies there with his eyes closed like he may go back to sleep.

He opens his eyes again, slowly, and you feel his hand gently move the covers off of you. You groan when the cool air hits your skin. "God damn, baby, you look so good," his voice rumbles.

"Mmm... You pushed the blankets off me just to tell me I look good?"

"Well, no..." he starts, and he finishes his statement by kissing your shoulder blade and neck, teasing at your thighs, and feeling your breasts. He presses his hips into your backside, letting you feel his morning wood.

"Oooh, someone's happy!" you giggle, pushing your butt back into him to give him some friction.

"I think you meant horny," he slides a hand down, grabbing at your butt before sliding further down teasing between your legs. He slowly runs his middle finger back and forth along your clit and your entrance, getting you wet for him.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hm?" He mutters between kisses.

"I love you. I wanted to make sure to say it first for once."

He chuckles and continues what he's doing, "And I love you, and I wanna make sure you know this isn't about sex."

"Well, it's a little hard to believe that when you have a finger inside me, but Sam Rothstein is a man who's good on his word, so I'll believe you...just this once," you look over your shoulder, both of you grinning uncontrollably. You reach back and take his member in your hand, stroking it, "However, for the next few minutes, I'd like to make it about sex."

"Mmm, yes ma'am!" Sam exclaims, attacking your neck with sloppy kisses, and repositioning himself to enter you. You both relax into those feelings of pleasure as his warm cock fills you. He grips your hips loosely and thrusts his hips into you almost lazily, but it feels good.

His hand creeps down and grips your thigh, gently lifting your leg up in the air. You both light up with noises, moans, whines, heavy breathing. Within a few minutes, you hear Sam breathe out, "Baby, baby, I'm gonna cum."

You let out a hum, "Cum for me, sweetheart."

Sam pulls you close to him, moving against you with quick, small pumps. You grab his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, while he holds you tightly. After his orgasm, he slides out of you easily and turns you over to kiss your lips for the first time that morning.

Sam is so needy after sex; he wants to hold you as close as possible and shower you in kisses and affection and sweet words.

"I'm sorry I didn't finish you off, honey," Sam says to you.

"It's okay, sweetie, I'm just glad you felt so good," you hold his head in your hands, nuzzling your nose against his.

He lowers his voice as if someone might hear him, "I'll make up for it in the shower," giving you a little wink.

And he does, because Sam Rothstein is a man who's good on his word.

• • •

Since you and Sam spent that weekend together, you start fucking like bunnies. That is to say: you find time to make love to one another often, especially when Ginger is out of town. You both prefer to do it at your home, but when Sam has Amy, he will sometimes invite you over; you quickly get past sleeping in another woman's bed, because you know Sam's heart belongs to you. Sex for the two of you isn't about getting off; it's one of the many ways you show your feelings for one another.

You both find it very hard to hide your feelings for one another in front of others. You can be so open with one another and your feelings when you're in your little bubble. Despite that, you have to put your feelings aside for The Tangiers charity event tonight. Sam has a lot of big spenders flying in for this event; it's going to bring in a lot of money and a lot of publicity for the casino.

"Hey, baby," you say, sneaking into Sam's office, closing the door quietly.

He's standing by his desk signing a few papers; this is probably the one quiet moment he'll have all night. "Hey, princess," he gives you a cute look, signing a few more papers. You sit in comfortable silence, while you wait for him to finish his work. "Alright," he says, tapping his pen on the final paper, "Bring that sweet ass over here!"

He sits on the edge of his desk and pulls you into a hug, taking in your scent and the way your dress feels against your body. He lets out a relaxed sigh, "I missed you."

It has been few days since you've seen each other. With Ginger being home in preparation for this event, you and Sam decided it was best not to see each other. "I missed you, too," you nuzzle into him.

You feel his hand under your chin, lifting your face so he can kiss you. You kiss slowly at first, letting Sam explore your mouth with his tongue, but things quickly get more heated since it feels like it's been so long since you had each other.

He turns you around, sitting you on his thigh as he leans against his desk. You both crane your necks to keep your lips connected. Sam presses your back against his chest before dipping his hand into your dress, fingers teasing your nipple. You inhale sharply and brace a hand on his hip.

"You like that?" he purrs in your ear.

"Mm-hmm," you hum, leaning your head back against him.

His free hand pulls your dress up and disappears between your thighs, touching you through your panties.

"Sam..." you whine, moving your hand to squeeze at his half-hard length.

"Seems like someone misses me, needy baby," he whipsers to you.

You urge his hands off of you and stand up, facing him, "Now let's get something straight, Mr. Rothstein: I wasn't needy when I came in this office. I patiently waited for you to finish signing things, and then YOU made me needy."

There's a long pause between you before Sam cracks a little smirk and says, "You're sexy when you're mad."

Once you head downstairs to the casino floor, the party is on. Millionaires and billionaires fill the room, enjoying slots, tables, and free champagne. Sam always thought it was funny how rich people love a free handout.

Every business associate that Sam knew was here, plus the rich friends they brought with them. Those of you who spend a lot of time at the casino mingle with the guests who came to spend money; your job is to keep them spending money, because a hefty portion of what the house makes tonight is going to be split between a few charities. It was Billy's idea, saying that a charity event would be great publicity and raise goodwill with the people.

Most of your evening goes by playing table games with people you barely knew, so it's nice to see Billy, a familiar face. You hadn't seen him since you got there.

He hands you a glass of champagne and you find a more secluded place to talk while Billy watches the floor. You see Sam doing the same from his usual spot; Sam sees you and gives you a cute look, scrunching his nose when Billy isn't looking.

Almost on queue, Billy smirks, "So, you and Ace, huh?"

"Huh? What?" you stammer, caught off guard.

"Don't worry, I haven't told anyone. You know my lips are sealed," he has a pleased look on his face, and he gives you a wink.

You sigh and give Billy a knowing look, confirming his suspicions, "How'd you know?"

"Well, I'll admit it took me a while to catch on, because you two have always been close. Sam's been much happier the past few weeks, but I chalked it up to Ginger getting out of his hair with her little vacations. Tonight has been the first dead giveaway: you sneaking up to his office and coming down to the floor together, and the way he's been keeping an eye on you all evening, like he's worried about you getting too far away from him."

If Sam had been watching you like that, you hadn't noticed, but it was endearing. "You should tell him not to blow our cover," you smirk at Billy.

"Oh, I plan on it," Billy leans into you, "Let me tell you a secret, (Y/N). I've always liked you two together, and I think you have always liked one another; maybe you were just too blinded by the Vegas lights to see it... So, I'll keep your secret, because you two deserve to be happy." His hand squeezes your shoulder, and he clinks his glass with yours before leaving you to go stand with Sam so they can watch the floor together.

As you walk the floor looking for a group of tycoons to mingle with, you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn to see Ginger who is now leading you across the casino floor.

"Hey, girl! Wanna work a table together? Maybe if we put our heads together, we could pull in more money." She is oddly pleasant in her tone of voice, but the way her nails grip your arm gives you a different vibe; however, you don't feel you have much choice in the matter. You are swept off to a table far away from the center of the casino, far away from Sam and Billy.

Unexpectedly, Ginger is nice to you and even jokes with you as you hustle all the rich men gathered around the roulette table, getting them to spend all of their money. When that's over, it's like a switch flips.

She drags you aside away from everyone except a few bouncers, and begins her tirade, "It's you. I know it's you." She's doing her best to remain calm with all of the donors around, but you knew she was high; she was always on something anymore.

"Ginger, what are you talking about?"

"You- your perfume! I smell it... in my bed, on Ace! I know you're sleeping with him!"

You can tell she's getting worked up, and you really don't want her to start yelling. "Now, we don't want things to get out of hand. You know I spend a lot of time with Sam; I've been helping him babysit Amy more since you guys have been more separate. Isn't it possible you smell my perfume around him because of that? You probably smell it on Amy too, right?"

Ginger is frustrated and confused, unable to make sense of things with all that junk in her system, "Yeah, yeah, I guess that makes sense," she pouts.

"Yeah, see? It's okay, everything's okay," you try to calm her down, resting your hand on her upper arm.

"No! Don't touch me!!" she shouts.

"Ginger, don't get excited; we don't wanna ruin the event."

"I don't care what you say; I don't trust you, and I don't trust you with my husband!" she sneers at you, "I have my connections just like your 'Saaam,' and if I find out anything is going on with you and him, you'll be nothing more than one of those holes in the desert these guys like to talk so much about. You're nothing but a whore as it is."

Her face is inches from yours. She had insulted you and threatened your life in a single statement, and clearly she had decided Sam was too personal a name for her husband, since she chastised you for calling him that. You decide to do your worst; you doubt she'll remember this interaction anyway.

"This coming from the woman who can't seem to shake her pimp."

Thankfully the bouncers nearby saw how heated things were getting, and they came over to break it up. They even called Nicky over talk Ginger down. It's pretty bad that even the casino staff knew about Nicky and Ginger, and that bringing Ace over would just make it worse.

But word quickly made it back to Sam about what Ginger had done to you, and so a few days later, he sent her to Beverly Hills with Amy; besides, he only needed her home for that one night at the Tangiers.

• • •

Despite all of his efforts to run a clean joint, it all came crashing down when Sam got word that the FBI had heard all about the casino and the Midwest bosses from that grocery store tap back home. Luckily, they couldn't really bring any heat down on Sam, because he didn't know much; he had been put in Las Vegas to run the casino, and he was even working on getting his gaming license which looked good on him.

Nicky, however, did get a lot of heat. He already had the attention of the Las Vegas police for a number of crimes, and he was the liaison between Las Vegas and and the Midwest bosses.

Sam had already been trying to pull away from Nicky and that meant also pulling away from the gangster business that had made him so successful as a handicapper.

Thankfully with Ginger out of town, you got to be with Sam when he found out about all this. There isn't much he can do, but he knows it's a possibility his whole casino could go under.

In order to cheer him up, you invite Sam to your place for a few days, so he can use your home as a getaway to just relax as much as he can. Despite everything going on, you both actually have a pretty good time. Sam only takes the calls he absolutely has to take which mostly meant Billy, and you both enjoy cooking together, showering together, making love together...

Unfortunately he can't stay for more than a few days or people will start to realize he isn't home, and any calls other than to Billy needed to come from Sam's house, especially any calls to Ginger. And so this morning you head off to Sam's place, so he can call the hotel in Beverly Hills to check on his wife and child.

He gets on the phone and cheerily greets the hotel receptionist before asking to be put through to Ginger's room. His tone quickly drops when he questions, "𝘔𝘳. and Mrs. Rothstein?"

You give him a concerned look as he wraps up the conversation and slams the phone down on the hook. He lets out a frustrated sigh and rubs his chin before he says, "She checked out of the hotel with another man and my kid."

"It's not Nicky, is it?" you ask.

"No, it's not Nicky, I know it's not Nicky; he's got too much heat on him to leave Vegas." That could only mean one thing: Lester.

Sam immediately gets back on the phone calling the police, the FBI agents he'd been in contact with, even Nicky, to try to find where Ginger and this pimp had taken his daughter. The FBI is very gracious in helping track down Ginger and Amy, quickly getting back to Sam with an address and phone number for where they are.

After a phone call with Lester that didn't really go anywhere, Sam is feeling helpless about what to do. He's so furious with Ginger, but he needs her to bring their daughter home. He sinks down into the couch when he looks at you desperately; he doesn't know what to do.

You quickly rush over and curl up next to him, taking the man in your arms, rubbing his shoulders for comfort. "How do I get her home? I just want Amy safe; she's not safe with that pimp, and clearly she's not safe with her mother anymore either."

"You're not gonna like to hear this, but I think Nicky is your best bet to get her back," you suggest.

He simply nods his head as he realizes you're right, then he picks up the phone to call his friend.

• • •

The next few days Sam and Ginger are walking on eggshells. It couldn't be more obvious that Ginger doesn't want to be home, but Sam had to know that Amy is safe. Since Ginger has to be home, Sam even tries being sweet to her again. He had tried to cuddle with her a few times, something they hadn't done in years, but she would just reject him each time, typically leaving the room. Sam is at his wits' end; he doesn't know what else to try with Ginger, what other approach he could take.

One night as Sam is about to leave the casino to head home, you follow him out to his car, "just to talk," you tell him. You hadn't seen him in days and you miss him.

"Hey, baby," Sam says wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"Hey, honey. I missed you," you smile at him.

He hums, "I miss you too, and I'm sorry you're in the middle of all this... It's not fair to you."

"It's okay, Sam. You're the one who's in a tough spot here. I'm just here to support you and love you and... make you feel better..." you trail off as you squeeze his thigh, your fingers gracing past his crotch.

"Oh..." Sam says, giving you a cheeky look.

You slide your hand back and forth over the front of his pants, getting him hard, while you lightly kiss at his neck and ear. "You've just been so stressed lately, sweetie; let me help you relax."

When his breathing becomes heavy, you know he's ready for more, "Baby girl, I need your mouth on me, now." He lets out a groan when you open his pants and stroke him through his underwear.

You don't waste much time before you're going down on him, kissing his leaking member before taking it in your mouth. He looks down at you and tries to keep his breathing even; all this came on pretty suddenly so you've got Sam very worked up. He takes your hair in his hands, forming a make shift ponytail to keep your hair out your face. He also likes to watch your face bob up and down on his cock.

You hollow out your cheeks and Sam savors that intense sucking feeling. Between that and your tongue pressing against his tip, he can hardly contain himself. You wrap a hand around the base of his member, pumping what you can't take in your mouth.

Sam's hands push you down making you take as much of him as you can, and his breathing becomes labored, letting out little moans as he climaxes in your mouth.

You take down what you can and lick up any of the rest. You look up to see Sam giving you a look with raised eyebrows.

"I didn't want you to make a mess..." you say with a raspy voice as you wipe your lips.

He simply stares at you, as if he was still trying to make sense of what just happened, before he grabs your hair and pulls you into a rough kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. When he pulls away from you breathing heavily, he says, "Baby, you have no idea how bad I needed that. Thank you." He softens up and pulls you back towards him, this time laying your head in the crook of his neck.

Sam leaves you at the Tangiers and at home, walks into a nightmare: his kid is tied to her bed and his wife is nowhere to be found. Despite the flood of panic and anger that he feels, he keeps his wits about him and calls you to come get Amy; with you is the safest place for her right now while Sam searches for Ginger. You only see him for a quick moment, before he rushes out the door, leaving you to pack Amy a bag and take her to your house for a few days.

Sam knows Ginger is at Nicky's new restaurant; he had called before he left the house. His tires screech to a halt as he rolls up to the place of business.

After a run-in with Nicky at the door and a quiet altercation in the corner booth, where Sam definitely threatened Ginger's life for what she did to Amy, Sam managed to get his wife in the car. On the ride home, oddly, all Sam could think was, "Where does Nicky get off asking 𝘮𝘦 to be civil, when he's the one that always gets heat brought on us?"

It's probably just a temporary distraction from elephant in the room, or car, in this case.

Sam has to admit: he's at his wits' end with Ginger. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about leaving her or kicking her out. But when they walk into the house, and he sees the apologetic look in his wife's eyes, whether honest or manipulative, one thought crosses his mind, "She's the mother of my child."

How could he walk out on her? He had promised she'd be taken care of, and even though he really only meant financially, his big heart wouldn't allow him to hurt her.

She doesn't care what he does; she won't be bothered as long as she gets the money she's promised.

"Come on, honey, let's go to bed," Sam says softly, taking his wife's hand. They take a few steps together before the man stops and turns to her; he places his hands on her sides, seeing if she'll hug him. When she does, sadly, it leaves Sam with a shred of hope for their relationship.

• • •

Sam had been exhausted, so he went to bed with the promise that Ginger would meet him there after she gets a shower. However, when Sam wakes up, seeing the time on the clock and the other half of his bed empty; he's immediately filled with suspicion.

At 3:03 A.M., he finds himself sneaking down the hallway--sneaking... in his own house. He shakes his head and quietly shuffles down the hallway towards the living room, where he can hear Ginger's voice moving at a rapid and excited pace.

"I don't care- I don't care!! I want that fucker dead! I want him dead! And that little slut too!! Sleeping in my bed- No! No, I will not calm down... I want a hit on that bitch, that way he can 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵! The same way he hurt me!" Ginger snarls and sobs into the phone.

Sam's heart sank. The thought of losing you--no, he couldn't think about that right now; he simply springs into action, grabbing the phone from Ginger's hands. "Who's this?" he demands to the person on the other end of the line, before slamming the phone down only a second later as Ginger leaps up, practically attacking Sam by pounding her balled up hands against his chest and arms.

"You want me dead, huh? You want me outta the picture?!" his voice booms as she starts to wrestle with him, crying and screaming. "Come with me, come on!" He gets her flailing hands undercontol and drags her down the hallway; Ginger's feet come out from under her, and he just keeps dragging her, both of them yelling at each other.

"I hate you!!! I hate your guts!" Ginger shouts at Sam from where she's laying on the floor of their walk in closet, her face red from crying.

"I know, you evil bitch! What did I ever do to you, huh? I tried to love you and look where it got me..." He slaps a duffle bag down on her lap.

"What's this?" she asks.

He follows it with a pile of clothes, gorgeous, expensive fabrics hitting the floor, "Get your shit, and get out," Sam growls, fire and pain in his eyes.

"You can't kick me out, you can't put me out on the street with no money!!!" She jumps up and starts grabbing expensive clothes.

"Money's all you care about, huh?" he questions, bending down to a shoe box under his clothes; he pulls out all that would fit in his hands, bringing it over to her on the floor. "Is this enough?? You'll probably blow through this in a week!" He dumps the cash in her lap, storming off from her to rip more of her clothes off hangers.

"You can't abandon me!! You told me I'd be taken care of! If you kick me out, I'll go take all my jewelry out the bank!!" she threatens.

He grabs her set of keys, taking her house key off the ring, leaving her with car keys and her bank keys. "And I will not stop you," Sam says, almost calmly.

He knew the key to his millions was still in his desk drawer upstairs, she'd only be leaving with the key to what's hers. He'd been feeling unsure about walking out on her, but Sam made his decision the moment Ginger threatened your life.

• • •

For the next week, you and Sam were waiting for the ball to drop and for Ginger to come storming through that door. But in another way, Sam didn't care; he had you over all the time, even when people came over. He started to put his hands on your waist or even kiss you in front of others. It made you so nervous the first time he kissed you in front of Nicky, but Sam knew what he was doing. Nicky couldn't run to anyone about it, because what Nicky had done was worse in the eyes of the Midwest bosses: sleeping with his best friend's wife, their precious "Golden Jew."

But that isn't the reason Nicky's here right now.

"Ace, they took the bosses in. Arrested every single one of 'em. The FBI knows what's going on, all of it, but they ain't got nothing on me or you, because we don't go in room where they count the money. That doesn't mean they won't question us though."

And boy did they. Sam was already irritated that his name was in the paper every time Nicky went to court for some crime, but now it was coming out that him and Nicky were both being held for questioning for the crime bust in the Midwest.

Nicky pretty much refused to give them anything, but Sam had a reputation with the law and a relationship with the FBI out here. They had helped him get his kid back after all. So, he didn't give them any new information, but he didn't mind confirming certain things they already knew, as long as it didn't incriminate him.

Because of his cooperation, the authorities left Sam alone after a little while. Most of the attention was on Nicky and what his connections were to the Midwest bosses and the casino. Somehow Nicky got himself out of it without getting arrested; Sam had to wonder if it was Nicky's rambling or his threats that did the trick.

Weeks went by, and it was clear that the casino was going down. It wasn't for trying though. Sam fought so hard to keep his precious establishment running, but the place had been riddled with scandals. And even with the bosses facing trial, the powers that be decided to get rid of the whole scam; Sam losing The Tangiers would just be a necessary evil to them.

Sam decided it was a better time than ever to leave the business behind. Besides, he'd never been into crime the way Nicky was; he'd just been pulled into this because he was a money maker.

So as Sam walks out of the casino for the last time, locking the doors to the completely empty building, he lights a cigarette and heads over to his car with only one thing on his mind: going home to you and Amy. Unfortunately, he won't make it home as soon as he would have liked, as his car goes up in flames from a car bomb that must've been rigged while he was inside the casino.

Sam had planned for this kind of thing though, and he had the manufacturers of the vehicle place a special metal plate under the passenger seat, giving him a few valuable seconds to save his life.

You get the call during Sam's ambulance ride to the hospital. At first you're devastated--why would anyone want to hurt your Sam? Before you could find to a conclusion, you quickly snap out of it, getting Amy into the car to get to the hospital.

"Mr. Rothstein-"

"I told you, I don't want-

"Mr. Rothstein, we think it's important that we run this test," the doctor speaks over Sam. Must be an important test for him to interrupt Ace Rothstein.

"I'm fine!" your boyfriend groans, "My arm is burned, but I feel fine."

"But sir, it's possible the adrenaline in your system-"

"Sam Rothstein!" You cut the doctor off, storming in with Amy on your hip.

"Hey, baby!" he holds a hand out towards you.

"Don't you 'baby' me. I know you're not arguing with this doctor, refusing medical advice!! You don't just have yourself to worry about here, you have me and Amy- and I swear to God, Sam Rothstein if you die on me, you'll have more than heaven and hell to worry about! You'll have me to answer to," you finish your rant with a stern look.

His face drops for a moment before a little smirk forms, "You're sexy when you're mad."

Ignoring him, you turn to his doctor, "Run any tests you need to. I'll deal with him." You pat the doctor on his tie.

"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Rothstein," the doctor says as you walk away, giving them room to do what they need to do.

"Oh, we're not married... yet," Sam explains, scrunching his nose cutely at you.

"Well I'm not gonna be the one to tell her that," the doctor says under his breath.

As they wheel Sam out of the room to take him for some tests, you hear Amy's voice, "Why are you mad at daddy?"

"I'm not mad at daddy," a little chuckle leaves you and you hug the child close to you, "I just love him, and so I had to make him listen to the doctors."

• • •

You pick Sam up just a few days later, perfectly fine, except for some burns on his arm. He sits in the passenger seat of your car with a pile of things from the hospital: his coral pink suit in a plastic bag, burned in a few spots from the bomb, a folder with some information about caring for his burns, a packet full of bandages and prescription ointment, and a large yellow envelope.

"Now, don't be mad," Sam starts.

"What did you do?" you glare at him for a second before turning your eyes back to the road.

"I, uh, got a real estate agent to start looking for new homes for us."

"Sammy, why would I be mad about that? We practically live together already!"

"These homes--they're not in Las Vegas."

"What?!" you practically give him whiplash, pulling the car into a random parking lot. "You wanna leave Las Vegas? Sam, I grew up here..."

He looks down at his lap and back up at you, "I know," it comes out so quietly, "I just don't think we're safe here anymore... I'm not in the business anymore, I'm but afforded the same protections as I used to be. What if they come after you next? Or Amy? Right now, I know enough people that we could get out quietly..."

"Oh, Sam..." You cup his face in your hands, "I'm sorry I reacted like that, I'm scared too, and now I have a kid to worry about. I know she's not mine yet, but if anything happened to Amy-" You have to stop yourself before you cry.

"Here," he says, grabbing the yellow envelope, "I gave some pictures of some houses, and there's one I really like."

Instead of driving your boyfriend home, you sit in the car looking at pictures of beautiful homes, and daydreaming about where how you'll arrange the living room, where you'll put the bed, Amy playing in the backyard.

"Hey, look at this last one," he tells you.

"Is this the one you like?"

"Yeah," his face has a happy, soft smile as he thinks about moving into this house with you; he just knows it's perfect.

"Hmmm... San Diego, huh? 4 bedrooms and a mother-in-law suite. Sam we don't need 4 bedrooms," you look up at him.

He gently places his hand on your belly, "We might."

Your heart just melts... Even if you aren't sure about kids, clearly the thought makes him happy.

"Okay so there's a pool and a lot of grass, maybe we could put a trampoline there..."

• • •

Boxes are scattered all around your new home; you picked the one in San Diego, of course. It's completely perfect.

The movers had dropped off all the big furniture and help you set it up; Sam even got them to help set up Amy's trampoline, and he was so thrilled to surprise her with it. But it will be a few more days before the decorators can come to paint, unpack, and lay out the rest. Nothing but luxury for Sam Rothstein and his "wife."

Right now, Sam is dropping Amy off at the neighbor's house for a play date, so she can get to know the kids in the area. Of course, you two had been sure to meet with this couple first to scope them out, making sure they are safe for Amy to be around.

The plan is to get some unpacking done when your man gets home, but you thought it might be nice to spend some quality alone time together in your new home.

"Honey, I'm home!" Sam chimes at the front door; it makes him so happy to be able to say that. Sam stops at the door to look around for you.

You saunter down the hallway, wearing a black trench coat and bright red high heels, "Hey, sexy!"

"Mmmm," Sam moans, "I think I should be saying that to you. What's this, baby?"

You stop just out of his reach and untie your jacket, holding it open to show off a new set of candy red lacy lingerie, "Just a little..." you turn around and drop the coat to the floor, revealing a big red bow at the top of your ass, "house warming present." You throw him a sultry look over your shoulder before walking into the kitchen, heels clicking loudly on your new porcelain floor.

Sam pulls his jaw up off the floor and quickly follows, watching as you crawl up onto the marble-top kitchen island. He walks over, appreciating your body by rubbing his hands on your sides, eyes roaming the red fabric hugging your frame. You rake your hands through his hair, and pull him into you, landing his face right between your breasts, which he seems very okay with judging by the way he closes his eyes and starts kissing at them. He wraps his arms around your waist, trying to pull you off the counter.

"Oh no, sir, Mr. Rothstein, you're not taking me to that bedroom. If we're gonna break this house in, we're gonna do it my way. What's that thing you like to say?" You look up acting like you're trying to remember, "There are three ways of doing things around here: the right way, the wrong way, and the way that I do it..."

You practically yank him up onto the counter with you, his legs fumbling with the bar stools to help get him up there. Before Sam can even get his bearings straight, you have his back pinned against the marble, your lips taking his in a passionate, sloppy kiss.

Sam pushes you off of him, breathing heavily, "Damn, baby girl, where's this coming from? Not that I'm complaining."

"Well, my sexy, rich sugar daddy just bought me a nice, new house, and I just wanna thank him," you nuzzle into him.

"Sugar daddy, huh? Is that all I am to you?" he gives you a loving look, both of you smiling at his joke.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Moneybags..." You sit up and stretch a leg across his lap straddling him. As you grind your hips back and forth against his hard on, you both let out some light moans and hot sighs. His belt buckle makes some clinking noises as you unhook it before swiftly tugging it from his belt loops and dropping it to the floor.

Zip! You open his pants and pull them down just a few inches so you can return to grinding against his member through a much thinner layer of fabric. When Sam's fingers snake towards his groin so he can further please himself, he's met with a harsh smack on the hand.

"All the pleasure you feel is gonna come from me, got it?" you tell Sam.

He raises his eyebrows, surprised by this change that's overcome you, but down for the ride--literally. The pressure of his hardness against your clit is a great warm up for you, so you keep at it until Sam has a couple of wet spots on his underwear: one from you and one from his pre-cum soaking through.

At that point, you move off of him enough to pull his pants and boxer briefs down to his upper thighs, his erection springing free. You crawl back on top of him, pinning his wrists to the counter just above his head while you kiss him. You pull away, stroking his chin and swiping your thumb across his lips.

"Ready, baby?" you ask, kissing his cheek lightly.

"I- uhhh, yeah," he breathes out.

"Cat got your tongue, silly?" you giggle.

"No, I just, I've never -uh- had a girl top me quite like this," he explains.

"Oh, um, should I stop?" you ask innocently as you grind against his dick again.

"NO- no. I, um... You shouldn't stop."

The way Sam is fumbling through the conversation tells you that he probably likes the treatment he's being given, and so you move your hips against him a few more times before moving your panties to the side and guiding his member to your entrance. Your boyfriend let's out a low groan when he feels that warm wetness surround his sex; you think that's probably his favorite part of making love.

You start by setting a leisurely pace, knowing Sam will want more, but, gosh, the tease is so satisfying too...

"Please, baby," Sam breathes.

"Please what?" you play dumb.

"Go faster... Please, baby." So predictable of him.

"Mmmm, you mean you don't like when I take my time with you?" You speed up juuuust a little bit, but not nearly as much as he would've liked.

"I thought I was in charge in the bedroom," he groans.

"Well, we're not in the bedroom are we?" You lean down to kiss him, pinning his hands down again, next to his shoulders this time. You continue to hold them down while you pick up the pace, leaving Sam feeling a bit helpless as he can't touch you.

You take a little break from all the bouncing to slide back and forth, achieving a new kind of friction. Sam curls his hips up into you, clearly enjoying the sensation.

"Let me touch you, please?" Of course you're going to give in, but not without hearing him beg a little more. No one has this kind of control over Sam "Ace" Rothstein; no one but you. "Babyyy... Please, you know I like to hold you."

He gets nothing but silence in response, oh, and your hips working even faster, which only serves to make him more needy. "(Y/N), please... please, baby, I wanna hold you so bad."

You let go of his wrists and intertwine your first with his for a moment before his hands move to your face to cup your cheek. Afterwards, his palms smooth over your chest and arms; he's looking up at you: your pretty face, soft skin, the way your hair bounces along with your breasts as you ride him.

His hips become less tame the closer he gets to his climax. He's a man who just can't help himself; he likes to be in on the action, even if he isn't on top.

You lean yourself back, placing your palms on the cool countertop, giving him a great angle to attack your g-spot. Sam's hands roam your thighs until you find your rhythm with the changed position, but once he knows he's hitting the right spots, his fingers dive in to stimulate you from the outside as well. One hand pinches and rubs your nipple while the other sets a dangerous speed on your clit.

Despite you trying to have so much control over him, Sam just knows exactly what buttons to push on you, and you're cumming in a matter of seconds. The way it snuck up on you causes you to bend forward as your orgasm pulses through you.

The man beneath you takes advantage of this by pulling you flush to his chest, bracing his feet on the counter top, and railing up into you as fast as he can. You turn into nothing but a noisy mess as he uses your body to get off.

"Fuck, baby, I'm cumming..." Sam finds his release before he even realizes it; he just feels so tangled up and lost in the pleasure of being with you.

A few seconds later, you both find yourselves lying on the kitchen island, completely limp and trying to catch your breath. Sam lazily rolls onto his side, rolling you onto the marble counter beside him. Goosebumps litter your skin as the cold countertop comes in contact with you. You both lay on the counter, staring at each other before you both brsk out into giggles.

"I can't believe you let me fuck you on this thing," you laugh, patting the marble, "and I can't believe you let me fuck you... Like that. I wasn't being too much, was I?"

Sam tucks himself back into his pants, zipping them up and buttoning them before wrapping an arm around your waist. "What? You being a little dominatrix? No, I don't think it was too much," he nuzzles his nose against yours and gives you a few soft kisses. "But," he starts, "the only woman allowed to have me like that is Mrs. Sam Rothstein..."

"Well, uh- that's not me..." you say, a little confused.

"It could be," he says in a low, soft voice, "Whaddya say? You wanna marry me?"

"Sam-" you start to feel overwhelmed for a few reasons: 1. He literally just proposed to you, but 2. "You're still married, Sam. I couldn't be your wife even if I wanted to!" Tears start to form in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey, shhh..." he says, pulling you into a cuddle, "You remember when I flew back to Vegas last week to go close the sale on the house there?"

You sniffle and look up at him, "Mm-hmm."

"Well I ran into one of the judges that used to come by the casino all the time, he was a big spender, but we treated him real nice. He told me he had heard everything from his friends on the force, everything about Ginger and the car bombing. We talked for a while, and he told me to stop by his chambers before I left the city," Sam fishes in his pocket for some folded up papers, "and he gave me this."

He hands you the papers to unfold and look at. "Oh... Oh, Sam! He granted you a divorce. Why didn't you tell me??"

"I wanted to surprise you..." He smiles that charming smile.

"Well, I'm certainly surprised," you hug him by nuzzling into his chest, "I didn't even know you were considering this yet."

"I've been considering it for years, honey," he whispers, kissing you on the temple, "ever since I told you I love you."

You both pause to simply take in the other person for a moment: Sam's clothes all disheveled and your still in your lingerie, cuddling on the stone counter.

"You know I think you're perfect, right? If there was just one thing I could change about you, it would be your last name. So, whaddya think, princess? You wanna try Rothstein on for size?"

The tears quickly return to your eyes, "Yeah, yeah- yes!" You grab his face and start kissing him over and over.

He can hardly pull you off of him for all the kisses, not that he wants to. However, when you decide you're done loving on your fiancé, he apologizes, "I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you right now, but ummm," he reaches for his little pinky ring; it's gold and pink to match his outfit for that day, "you can wear this for now." He slips the piece of metal onto your left ring finger; it doesn't fit that well, but you're honored to wear it.

Sam sits up, sliding off the counter. He stands at the edge of the island, pulling you towards him and wrapping your legs around his waist. He cups your head in both his hands and kisses you softly. "Wanna go to 'break in' the bathtub, Mrs. Rothstein?"

[fanfiction-funtime]

Self insert oc: Alexander Vodka

AKA: Eis Cay'zar

Author of fate

A writer from Schneznaya who was driven from his home for his anti-Tsaritsa paper.

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Physical description:

A chubby fellow in a 1950's style noir trenchcoat and hat, some would even say he looks like he jumped right out of a noir comic book and into reality. He has brown hair and green eyes, a cowboy mustache, and a pointed beard like some kind of comic book supervillain genius.

He often acts confidently and even a bit egotistical when in places he's recognized and famous in, however in newer places he often seems distant and shys away from almost all contact.

Noone knows where his vision is, but they know he has one because of the cold aura that surrounds him.

At night he'll often trade his outfit for one more reminiscent of demons or vampires.

_____________________

Abilities:

Weapon type: Catalyst

Basic attack-truth: uses his catalyst to shoot a short burst of up to 3 ice shards, can attack in fast succession.

"Truth hurts, especially in bursts"

Charged attack-Bifrost: Alexander quickly makes an ice clone behind the enemy and fires 6 shots, this can increase to 3 clones if charged enough(times: 1 for 1 second, 2 for 2 seconds, and 3 for 2.5 seconds)

"I hate crowds, best company has always been myself"

Elemental ability-ice wall: creates an aura of sheer cold around himself that will damage enemies the more they stay in it, and apply the normal sheer cold to them. Does not affect party.

"My therapist said I put up walls because of trauma, but I couldn't hear them through the wall I had just built"

Elemental burst-a story to be told: Alexander takes out his book and opens to a random page, then randomly summons ice sculptures of one of 8 beings:

"Aster": this summon looks like the flatwoods monster, it surrounds the party in a swirl of ice blades that deal 2X damage as the character for 10 seconds.

"Who needs brawn, when you got brain"

"Ultimate foe": a demonic, pointy being of shadow. Will independently deal 25000 damage to three random foes.

"Meet my penultimate friend"

"Beethoven": a sculpture reminiscent of a ww1 zombie general, calls down a barrage of ice bombs that deal 5000 damage to enemies hit for 7 seconds.

"Good scifi doesn't predict, it prevents"

"Sorrows Joy": an angelic, faceless, robot like humanoid that spawns 25 angel shaped traps that freeze enemies around the character.

"With any luck, you're the only real one I've made"

"Death rider and the magic prince": two statues, one of a mummy like Schneznayan mystic of ancient barbarian times and the other an elven cavalry knight from the myths of mondstadt. The knight gives the party a 45% boost to speed and attack while moving, and the Schneznayan gives +10% damage bonus to elemental skills and +55% damage bonus to Catalyst.

"Feel the wrath of honor long passed"

"Zero point and Lion queen": a knightly man of spiked armor and a golden ottoman warrior woman whose golden chain completely obscures her head. Your enemies become inflicted with pyro and you are surrounded by thorn bushes that deal continuous damage of 1000 for 10 seconds.

"Walk down the way on a moonlit day"

The traveler: a child in a red straight jacket, his binds become undone after 4 seconds at which point all enemies take 10,000 X Alexander's level of damage.

"I uh,wont have to pay any copyrights will I?"

"Giota": a child in pyjamas who looks ready to sleep, this summon is very rare. It fully restores all party members and gives a 200% boost to both defense and damage of your characters.

"This fella's been with me since I was a kid"

"If it is a soldier's duty to escape the confines of a prison, is it not every person's duty to escape reality if even for a moment? A wise man said that, pray that I may one day be like him."

Passive-part the wasteland: Alexander is immune to sheer elements, and Grant's 50% resistance when in the party to all members.

_____________________

Story

Abandoning a dream

As a kid, Alexander was always put down when he said he wanted to write fiction, "there's no money in it" they all said.

He couldn't get into any art schools without support so he focused his mind elsewhere, a place he could hopefully use his writing to do just as much good: the first newspaper in Schneznaya.

Horrible truth

He didn't start as a trouble maker, but the more he sought out the truth the more he couldn't stand back and watch. He published numerous papers about the Tsarista's wrongdoings and the crimes of the fatui, how they would harass merchants in other nations, the unfair taxes many shipping businesses had to keep quiet about, all the way up to the war crimes the Tsarista had done in direct contradiction to her own laws.

Sadly, not many believed him even with evidence, but some got his message.

Those who fight

One day Alexander was approached by a man who claimed to have formed a resistance against the fatui. Alexander had inspired many people to disrupt the organization, and have even begun working with those outside Schneznaya.

With their help he didn't just publish some crimes, he published them all, he even got information that turned the general public against the fatui even if just a little.

In a way h had achieved his dream of helping others with his writing, even if it wasn't how he wanted.

Stop the presses

When the Tsarista started her big move of taking gnosis, she brought the hammer down on dissent like a boulder on a ten year old's wrist. One day a squad of thirty fatui stormed Alexander's home and business to silence him, and while they shut down his business they couldn't catch him.

Alexander fled into the wastelands of ice and snow and wasn't seen for several weeks.

Deus ex Vodka

One day Alexander showed up in Inazuma, a nation that had been oppressed for some time now and had recently reached it's height, yet no resistance had formed.

That was until Alexander came along.

Alexander published numerous books, spreading them throughout Inazuma. All of them spoke of freedom, of bravery, of rising up to achieve your ambitions.

And with those stories he inspired countless to take up arms, and in turn inspired countless to join the resistance.

And with mere fiction he had brought about hope,

And with mere fiction he shall do it again, in every form, and in every nation.

Vision: cold hearted

While wondering the waste Alexander fell down and looked to the skies.

He did not ask celestia why, he did not grieve or blame that he did not do more, instead Alexander did something he hadn't done in a long time:

He imagined.

And after he imagined he took out his notebook and wrote. In the freezing cold for seventeen days he wrote stories of hope and freedom.

For seventeen days the cold did not so much as cause him to flinch as he wrote tales of bravery.

For seventeen days Alexander Vodka lived how he wanted to live.

And at the end, he lied down to die.

Then a light shown, and when he opened his eyes to look he saw that the storm parted around him, and in his hand was an ice blue gem.

But Alexander was too paranoid from years of abuse from his peers as a child to wear it loosely, and far to extra to just get a lock. So instead Alexander shouted to celestia "if I shall have this Vision for my art, then it shall not kill me no matter what I do!"

He then shoved the vision into his heart and fell down.

Before he could bleed out however, a woman appeared.

"Hey Tsari, how ya doin." Alexander said as blood poured out his mouth.

"You dramatic fool," the Tsarista sighed as she put a hand on his chest, "you have my element, do you know how bad it'll look for me if you die by shoving your vision into your heart?"

"Why do you care? We hate eachother, in case you forgot."

The archon sighed, "you're just rebelling against what you see as unjust, just as I am. To be honest I feel a sort of rivalry with you, so it'd be a shame if you just died. Also," she painfully shoved the vision all the way in, painfully, "if your going to die it better be because of me, got it?"

Then Alexander sat up, and the god was gone. Along with the hole in his chest.

"Rival of a god eh?" He sat up, putting his gat back on his head, "I like the sound of that."

_____________________

How is this an insert?

Well his story can't be the exact same as mine, so I took my life and goals and made predictions, then fictionalized those predictions and expanded.

His appearance is pretty close to how I'll likely look based on my current appearance, and his dramatic attitude is exactly how I wanna act.

Him being shy in new places with strangers is me exactly as I am now really, however I do believe I'd act confidently if I were famous so he does as well.

Him being Catalyst is because I'm not athletic at all, and I figured a dps Catalyst would be cool. His main ability and resistance/immunity to sheer cold is based on how I wrap up in warm blankets when it's cold, and his ultimate is made up of characters I've made.

_____________________

Tagging: @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos, @storytravelled, and @love-psxlm

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

I've been so excited to write for the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang 2021 (go check out other amazing fics and art in the collection at @mysme-rbb), and it's the first fanfic/art event I've participated in! @madiebelleadventures and I teamed up to brainstorm this beast, so her art is at the very end (because I ain't spoilin nothin)!

-

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: One day after the end of a work week, Vanderwood surprises MC with some husband-wife baking time—with a twist. Inspired by his agent training, he suggests that they bake as a team but have MC blindfolded. In order to make a cake that's actually edible, she must follow his directions to the letter. All that's left after that is chaos, banter, and spouse-flustering. And figuring out how to actually make a cake.

A/N: Fyi MC is definitely more of her own character than a reader-insert on this one. Also as per usual with me, I headcanon Vanderwood as British, so I tried heavily to align his phrasing accordingly, despite being an American myself. Enjoy seeing exactly how much fluff I can possibly cram into 5k words!

MC sighed happily at the feeling of the wind in her hair as she drove home from work one Friday evening. Windows down, jacket off, music blasting—the air itself felt like freedom. She had nothing against her job—in fact, she enjoyed it for the most part. She prided herself in a job well done, she liked being able to manage a team of her own, and the paycheck and benefits were good. Nothing extravagant, of course, but enough to comfortably support a couple newlyweds.

And that was the real reason MC nearly jumped out the door every day when everything wrapped up at the office. Who wouldn't, with a husband as unfairly hot as Vanderwood? Completely unfair how he could make leopard print and what was practically a mullet actually look attractive. Thank goodness his fashion sense had mellowed out over time, if only a little bit. With Vanderwood's past being what it was, they had mutually come to the conclusion that it would be best for their well-being if he stayed at their apartment during the day to keep the household running. He was very particular about how he cooked, cleaned, and did the laundry, and he handled their finances conscientiously and precisely. Admittedly, she did have to occasionally remind him that as sleek as that new top-of-the-line taser was, there was no real need for it, but that was just part of her husband's charm.

And boy, was he charming.

She truly couldn't wait to get home, past this rush hour traffic. She'd get home and be pulled in for a deep kiss moments after walking in the door. Maybe he'd slip a gentle but insistent hand into her hair. Maybe they'd take it a little further. Or a lot further.

"HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS ON BACON ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???"

MC swerved to avoid a collision and waited for her heartbeat to settle down again. There was no freaking way she was going to die in some stupid car wreck before their date tonight. A surprise, he'd said. No matter how hard she'd tried to weasel more out of him, he wouldn’t bend. Darn agent training. Good thing it wouldn't be a surprise for much longer. Within minutes, the streets got smaller and quieter as she neared her apartment building. Another minute, and she flung open the apartment door and leapt on her husband.

MC's fantasies were soon replaced by an even better reality when Vanderwood's lips landed on hers. Kissing back enthusiastically, MC wrapped her arms around his middle so tight that a less sturdy man would be coughing for air. Vanderwood snatched her keys and purse and hung them by the doorway, never breaking his focus for a second. His kisses grew slower, but no less fervent, as he smoothed her wind-strewn hair. Eventually, their lips reluctantly parted, and MC broke the silence.

"How did I manage to snag the best kisser on earth on top of marrying the most insanely attractive man on earth?"

Vanderwood smirked. "Good taste, I guess." He kissed her once more soundly for good measure.

"Maybe. Will my insanely attractive husband tell me what our surprise date is now?"

"Perhaps."

"No perhapses! I've been dying waiting!"

"Very well. Start by changing your clothes, because I am not scrubbing stains out of your good work clothes."

"Do I otherwise have to wear anything in particular? That's not a lot to go off of."

"Doesn't matter to me. Now go change before I do the job myself."

"I wouldn't complain."

"This is not that kind of date! Go!"

"Fine, Sir Panties-in-a-bunch."

MC went to the bedroom and took stock of her clothing options. She had to choose something practical that could be easily washed, but she still wanted to look a little cute. After all, it was a date. It was a tough balance to strike. Eh, she could always stick an apron or an old shirt over it. She grabbed her oversized paint shirt just in case before snagging a light pink shirt. Now for the bottoms. She debated on a simple skirt, but decided to go for it. After all, if it didn't fit with Vanderwood's plans, he would tell her. MC changed quickly and weaved her hair into a side braid, slipping a tendril out on each side to frame her face. Mirror-MC nodded in approval. Time to see what on earth her husband had been planning.

She cracked open the door and peeked through before skipping over to Vanderwood, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. His amber eyes widened in interest.

"You have no business looking this pretty for a baking date."

MC grinned. "Ha! I did get it out of you! A baking date sounds cute. What made you think of that? Are you just really getting into the whole house husband gig?"

"It was my agent training, actually." Seeing the puzzled look on his wife's face, Vanderwood continued, "There's a bit of a twist to it, you see. I will hardly be doing any of the actual baking. You, my dear, on the other hand, will be completely blindfolded. You will have to follow my instructions explicitly, or else the result will be completely inedible."

"I still fail to see how the setup doesn't sound like 'that kind of date', but it sounds like fun! What does this have to do with your agent training, though?"

"Various exercises used similar techniques. Many times in the field, we had to follow orders to the letter with no questions asked if we wanted to make it out in one piece. We also did training to be able to operate blindly or in the dark if our vision was compromised. But none of it was as enjoyable as watching a beautiful woman bake a cake by pure trust."

"You're such a flatterer. Keep it coming," MC smirked.

"At least get into the kitchen first," Vanderwood said, handing her a blindfold that looked suspiciously like his nap mask.

"Okay, but if you don't want me in the kitchen until I'm blindfolded, you're gonna have to get my apron yourself."

"I thought I was the one giving out orders tonight?"

"A girl's gotta get her kicks somewhere."

"Such a docile wife I have. Never difficult, never demanding."

"You think it's sexy. Don't even try to deny it."

"I would have filed for immediate divorce if the description 'docile' actually fit you." He stepped into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with the apron. MC slipped it on and, after ducking briefly into the bathroom to wash her hands, covered her eyes with the blindfold.

"I'm at your mercy now. Don't abuse that privilege."

He materialized behind her, winding his arms around her waist. "I wouldn't dream of it," he murmured into her ear before attacking her stomach. MC burst into uncontrollable giggles.

"I swear—!" she giggled "—I swear I'm going to punch the living daylights out of you!"

"You're certainly welcome to try. You know I wouldn't even feel it."

"But I could try. How am I supposed to trust you to give me decent directions to bake whatever the heck we're making if I can't even trust you not to tickle me?"

"You don't. That's the thrill of it."

"You'd better have me make something actually edible for all our trouble."

"That all depends on how well you follow my instructions."

"And how decent your instructions are. Let's not forget that tiny detail," she reminded.

"Hmm, we'll see," The smile was evident in his voice. "Now if we're going to start, we need to go ahead and do it."

"Probably."

He guided MC by her upper arms into the narrow kitchen.

"Fortunately," he said, halting and holding her in place, "we're only baking a cake and not an entire meal, so it won't take an eternity."

"I sure hope not! It's pizza night and I'm already a little hungry!"

He wound his hands around his wife's waist, lightly patting her stomach. "Well, the faster we start, the faster we can eat. I've already laid everything out for you as best I can, so you just have to follow my directions, all right, love?"

"Got it."

"All right, can you feel the worktop?" A nod. "Raise your right hand just a bit...and over…now grab the box with the cake mix, because heaven knows neither of us knows or cares enough to make it from scratch. Got it? Now open it up. The mixing bowl is straight to the left. Go ahead and pour it in."

"Just so you know, if I spill anything, you're the one taking responsibility."

"And why is that, darling?" Vanderwood asked, feigning shock.

"Because you're the one who had this idea in the first place! Not to mention if I make a mess it’s because of your faulty directions."

Unfortunately, MC failed to prove her point, pouring the mix into the bowl and barely spilling a few crumbs.

"Looks like we may not have to worry about that," Vanderwood smirked.

"You have met me, right? You know something's going to get spilled, right?"

Ignoring her, he moved the empty box toward the back and continued, "The milk should be right around where the cake mix was, if you can remember where you just were. The measuring jug is right next to it. Do you think you can pour it in correctly?"

"We'll see, now won't we?"

"There you go. Just try to take it slowly, just in case, and stop when I say so."

MC obeyed, gradually tilting the milk jug until a thin stream hit the center of the measuring cup.

"Brilliant! Now careful, careful, slightly to the left...that's it! Now slow down...almost done...stop!" He kissed her cheek. "That was amazing. Now pour it into the bowl."

MC felt around for the mixing bowl again. She managed to find it and poured in the milk. "Where's the cap for the milk jug?"

"Hm...where did it go? Oh, there it is. Right by the sink."

She batted at the air around her right side to find the inside of the sink. Instead, her hand bumped the side of the milk jug. Vanderwood's hand shot out to catch it, but a small puddle had already sloshed onto the counter. MC's hand shot up to take off the blindfold, but Vanderwood caught her wrist first. She sighed.

"Vandy, give it to me straight. How bad is it?"

"Not bad at all. I caught it before much got out. Stay put for a moment while I wipe it up so it doesn't start to smell or dry up."

"Not to say I told you, but I definitely told you."

Her husband stuck out his tongue at her—one of the few ways he had begun to let himself be childish lately. Then the obvious dawned on him. "I'm sticking out my tongue. I thought you ought to know that."

"Crucial information. Are you done yet?"

"Yep. You ready to get your hands a little dirty?"

"Isn't that expected in all this?"

"That's probably a large part of why you demanded an apron first, yes."

"You would be right about that, also yes. And you're so dramatic. I did not demand."

"Up to interpretation. Reach up to the left of the mixing bowl and just grab it off the plate and toss it in."

As instructed, MC reached over and let out a tiny shriek when her hand came into contact with the soft butter. Vanderwood guffawed.

"I was waiting for that."

MC gasped. "You did this on purpose!" She flung the butter into the bowl with an extra dash of vindictiveness.

"Maybe so. I like hearing your reactions," he purred.

"Don't try to be all smooth when you're being a twit. It doesn't suit you," MC sniffed, then muttered under her breath, "actually it totally works for you but it doesn't make me less ticked at you."

"By the way, don't bother trying to wash your hands just yet. The next part is probably going to be the messiest. I'll go get the bin so it'll be close by for you."

"Appreciated. What's the next part?"

"Eggs."

"Yikes, okay. That's why I needed the trash can, then. And where are the eggs?"

"To your left. You're going to need four of them. I read somewhere that adding an extra egg makes it better, hypothetically."

"You're the one giving the instructions."

"Alright, the bin is to your left, whenever you're ready."

"I could hear the thunk when you set it down, but thank you," MC said wryly.

"I live to serve."

There was silence for a moment as MC cracked the first egg into the bowl, and a soft smile rose on her face like the dawn. "Not anymore, you don't. I thank God every day that you and Saeyoung were able to free yourselves from the agency. I never could have forgotten you even if you hadn't, but I never would have known the immense joy I've gotten to have by being your wife." She sniffed, then laughed. "Sorry for being so sentimental all of a sudden, I don't know what got into me. It's just that knowing how many things could have gotten between us makes me that much more grateful for what we have."

"Ah!" Vanderwood shot a hand out to correct the second egg's trajectory into the mixing bowl.

"Oops, thank you."

"No problem, love. We're a team." He settled against her back, rubbing her arms lightly and placing a tender kiss on her cheek. "And never feel sorry for your so-called sentimentality. In fact, I really think you hold back sometimes. You shouldn't. I know that I used to scoff at these things, but locking out your emotions for job after job really takes a toll on a man. The agency had no room for love of any sort, and I've long come to the realization that every person is hardwired to desire love of one kind or another. I know I'm still unlearning all of my coping mechanisms, and I know I'm still sharp with some people, but with you?" He smoothed a hair back from her face. "I'll take whatever love you can give me."

She cracked the third egg into the bowl and threw out the shell. "I always knew you could be a softie, very deep down. I'm just glad that I get to be the one to see it."

After the fourth egg was in the bowl, Vanderwood directed, "Okay, time to wash up. The next thing is mixing for two minutes. While I love you, I do not trust you to use an electric mixer while blindfolded, so you're going to use a whisk for that job."

"I suppose that's fair. Can you put away the trash can while I wash my hands?"

"Already on it."

"Where's the whisk, again?"

"I kind of put it toward the back, so either be careful or wait for me to move a few things."

"Oh, I've got it. Don't worry," MC waved a hand in dismissal and groped around for the whisk, but her arm was a bit too low, and she dipped her clothed elbow in the plate where the butter had been. She sighed. "What did I just decorate my elbow with?"

"Butter. Try it. It might be tasty," he teased.

"Come on, Vandy, this is not the time. Help me get it off before it soaks in too much."

"Alright, alright, I just had to pick on you a little bit for not listening to me." He carefully scooped off the top layer of the butter with a paper towel before trying to absorb the rest. "I'm going to roll up your sleeves a bit more so that this hopefully won't happen again."

"Well, not until I slosh half the cake out of this bowl trying and failing to mix it."

"You'll be fine. Just stick to mixing the center and bringing the outside of it toward the center so everything gets mixed. But mix it well and mix it fast. The timer starts...now!"

MC held the bowl against her stomach to steady it while she mixed the batter vigorously. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one trying to mix furiously while keeping it all in the bowl on top of being blindfolded!"

"Calm down, you're doing great. A couple drips, maybe, but it's staying in."

"So far, anyway. But that's good, I guess."

"No guessing. It's quite good." Vanderwood leaned against the counter. "We've got a minute and a half to kill. Should I spend it telling you how you look right now?"

"Oh gosh, do I even want to know?"

He shook his head in near disbelief, smiling. "Magnetic. Adorable. More delicious than the cake we're making."

MC cackled. "You cannot be serious. I've got to be a mess right now."

"You act as if that's a contradiction. It's the mess that makes you more beautiful. Is every single hair of yours in place? No. But they fall around your face in the most delicately beautiful way. Even the places where the ingredients got smudged on you somehow add to your charm." He leaned in so that his lips touched her ear, his voice lowering to a gravelly timbre. "Did you know that your cheeks are all rosy from the effort you're putting into stirring? It's unbelievably attractive. And the way your lips press together when you're concentrating? It makes me want to kiss them apart. In fact—"

"Vanderwood, how much time is left?" MC interrupted, suppressing a vivid blush and a shiver.

"Our entire lives," he said, happily ignoring the real question.

"The timer, Vanderwood. How much is left on the timer?"

The sound of the timer going off answered the question for him. "None," he grinned. "I'll go spray the cake pan while you rest for a moment. You've earned it."

She exhaled, set the mixing bowl aside, and stretched. Then a thought made her panic. "Vandy, we forgot to preheat the oven."

He held her face in his hands. "MC. Darling. Breathe. I set the oven when I grabbed the apron."

Her breathing gradually slowed. "Sorry, love. I'm just really hungry and kind of tired and I think not being able to see is doing weird things to my brain and you kind of flustered me a minute ago with what you were saying and I'm sorry, I—" her voice cracked, but Vanderwood cut her off and held her close.

"Hey...hey...you're alright. There's nothing to be sorry about. I kept you going after a long day of work without feeding you first. I should have known better." He smoothed her hair and tucked it into her braid. "I'll tell you what. How about we get this cake in the oven and then order some pizza and watch another episode of Cucumber Fish?"

MC sniffled and hummed in agreement. Vanderwood loosened his hold around her and gently brought her hands to the bowl again before grabbing the cake pan. "Okay, all you've got to do now is pour it into the pan that I've put just to the left of the bowl. Just take it nice and easy. There you go. Perfect. You're almost done. Now let me get a spatula to scoop the last of it out." After he finished, he slid the cake pan into the oven and started the timer. "There. All done." He slipped the mask off her eyes and gave her a peck on the lips as she blinked to adjust to the light. "I'll clean all this up, alright? Go ahead and relax on the sofa. You can order the pizza and get Cucumber Fish queued up while I finish up in here."

"Okay," she murmured. Another peck, and she curled up on the couch. She pulled out her phone to order the pizza and smiled at the notifications she'd gotten from the RFA chatroom. They were up to their normal antics again. Hopefully, Saeyoung wouldn't exasperate Saeran too much with his crazy propositions. But there was nothing she could do about that, and she was starving and in desperate need of pizza. Once it was ordered, she turned on the TV and selected the episode, making sure to let it run past the ads before pausing it.

After Vanderwood joined her on the couch, the next forty-five minutes was filled with lots of cuddling and pizza devouring, more kissing than watching the show, a few glances at the cake's progress, an agreement to actually watch the episode while they ate the cake, and several minutes of cooling time after the cake was removed from the oven. Vanderwood emerged from the kitchen after a few minutes of setting up to decorate.

"Are you sure you want to put on the mask again?" he asked. "I don't want it to mess with your head like it did last time."

"I'll be fine, babe. I'm pretty sure it was like that last time just because I was starving."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"If you say so. Go ahead and get them on, then," he said, handing MC the apron and mask.

"Just make sure to lead me into the kitchen again."

"Hmm, we'll see."

"We'll see?" she repeated, but shrieked soon after when she no longer felt the ground beneath her feet. Vanderwood had scooped her up to carry her into the kitchen bridal-style and sank his lips against hers with intentionality. He bumped into the counter but managed to avoid any damage to his wife. He deposited one last kiss on her lips before setting her down.

"What have you done to me, woman? Years and years of agent skills, undone in a moment. If it were anything or anyone else, I never would have bumped into that worktop. But when it's you kissing me, you're the only thing that exists." He grinned. "It's a shame, really. I thought my dexterity was an impressive skill, but I don't even have that anymore, it seems."

"Shame indeed," MC parroted, trying to steal another kiss from his lips and stealing one from his nostrils instead. She made a face, causing Vanderwood to laugh.

"Well, at least I still have the ability to order you around." MC smacked him in response, and he continued, "Alright, alright, let's get to it then. This is where it'll get really interesting, since decorating requires more precision. Which, no offense, is a skill you don't have, since you're not exactly used to being blind."

"Now wait just a—okay, I can't argue that," MC sighed. He placed a spatula in one hand and a jar of frosting in her other.

"Turn around. Can you find where the cake is?"

"Ye—wait, Vandy! I thought you said you cleaned up!"

"I did…sort of." Before she could protest, he interjected, "I wiped the worktop! I just pushed all the dishes to one side so we could put all of it in the dishwasher at once when we were done!" He added with a mumble, "I just wanted to get back to you."

"You think you can charm your way out of anything," MC responded airily. "Well, you're right." She squared up as best she could with a frosting jar in hand. "I found the cake. I'll try to do my best."

"Well, in this part, I won't let you go completely solo. I can rotate the cake for you as you go, if you want."

"Please."

MC scooped a large helping of frosting from the jar and started spreading around the perimeter. Her spatula made a slight detour for a moment to donate some frosting to the top of the cake, and Vanderwood halted and reversed his rotation slightly to avoid confusion. A few seconds later, she went for another, slightly smaller, scoop to finish frosting the circumference of the cake. Another scoop, added to the deposit from the first, finished off the top.

"Is there a big corner around the top edge? Or any dry spots?" she asked.

"Just a slight corner. Grab a little bit more frosting to round it off a bit and thicken the top."

She did as directed while he helped rotate, and stepped back. "Better?"

"Much better. Maybe we can add a little artistic touch by making some...what do you call them? Swoops? Around the sides from the top?"

"Sounds great. You're definitely going to have to help me, though."

"Alright, I'll rotate again and stop you when you're done. Then you can smooth off the top edge again quick."

Six slightly lopsided arcs later, he stepped back for a moment, observing. "This is certainly not the prettiest cake I've seen, but it all adds to the fun, yeah?"

"I guess," she laughed.

"Now here's the part that'll really get a laugh when you take off the blindfold. I've got a bowl over here with some frosting for smaller decorating, and you get to pick the food coloring that goes in it."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," he snickered while guiding her over to a trio of colored bottles that she couldn't discern. "Take your pick," he said cheerily. MC gingerly selected one, and he suppressed a snort poorly. "Excellent choice!"

MC groaned. "I'm going to regret all my life choices, aren't I?"

"Of course not! Only your decision to marry me."

"Hey." She squeezed his wrist. "I could never regret that."

"You might reevaluate that statement when you take off the blindfold and see the cake. Or at least my ugly mug."

"Vanderwood. Don't you even start with me. You're so hot that if we were working with chocolate instead of a cake, we wouldn't need the microwave to melt it."

"You're so hot that the beach would need sunblock instead of you."

"You're so hot that the sun goes to you when it needs to warm up."

They collapsed against each other, gasping for air. Vanderwood caught his breath first. "Let's get this food coloring in the bowl, shall we? The spoon and frosting are already in it. All you have to do is put a few drops in and stir until I say so. The bowl's on your left."

"As you wish," she said as she did so.

After a few moments, he spoke. "That's enough. Let me get you back over to the cake, and I'll get the frosting in the decorating bag. Which is really just an ordinary plastic bag, but I did pick up some cheap decorating tips when I got the ingredients."

"Splendid. How am I going to decorate, though? Even if I could see, I don't know the first thing about cake decorating. Oh yeah, and I can't see."

"Don't get your 'panties in a bunch,' as you like to tell me so often. I'll do it with you this time."

"But you don't know how to decorate cakes, either!"

"Ah-ah-ah!” he chided. “Do you trust me or not?"

"Not particularly."

"Hey!"

"But! We should just go ahead and do it anyway, because even though neither of us knows what we're doing, we're the only ones in this apartment who can. And the frosting smells too good not to eat soon."

"That's my girl." Vanderwood curled around her. He molded one hand around hers and slid the other over her stomach. As they formed a few swirls on the top, he murmured, "We did this whole thing together. How impressive is that? Was it as fun for you as it was for me?"

MC smiled. "Of course it was. I know I got a little hangry for a bit there, but I know how much thought you put into this. None of my old deadbeat ex-boyfriends ever would have cared so much, let alone shown it. These are the things that make me love you that much more."

"I never experienced any permanent love until you showed it to me. And it's been so...world-altering—that I've been trying to wrap my head around it ever since. I still can't. But I swear I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to give you the same love you've given me. I certainly don't deserve it, after the things I've done. But you do. You deserve all the happiness a person can have."

MC paused and blushed slightly. "Vandy…" She exhaled. "We've gone over this whole 'not deserving it' thing. Whether you deserve it or not doesn't matter. To me, what matters is your heart. You have such a beautiful heart, Vandy. I love the kind of man you've become. I've seen you strive every day to be better than you were the day before, and that is so inspiring."

"Well, whether or not I deserve happiness, I would choose to be happy every day if my being happy made you happy." He squeezed her hip affectionately and pulled her in for a tender kiss.

"It would." She kissed him back. They added one last swirl and a border before they set down the bag of frosting. He uncurled her fingers and fiddled with her wedding ring.

"Are you ready to see it?"

"Sure."

He slipped off the blindfold, and she gasped.

"What have we done?" she exclaimed as her laughing grew louder by the second.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Vanderwood asked, feigning ignorance.

"The cake is bright flaming orange, Vandy!" She let out a snort, then covered her face. "Hey, wait! All the food coloring was the same color too, you little twit!"

He shrugged innocently. MC sputtered. "Nuh-uh. Don't you shrug at me, mister. Saeyoung has rubbed off on you way too much."

"Has not."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe the tiniest bit."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought. Now are you as ready as I am to eat this cake and watch Cucumber Fish?"

"Let me take a picture first. And another one with you in it? You look so lovely, I can't not have one with you in it."

She tried desperately to keep a frown on her face as he snapped a picture but couldn't quite hold back the quirk at the corner of her mouth. He cut a slice for each of them and handed one to her. He curled the paper plate around his slice, and she did likewise. They looked each other in the eyes, both knowing exactly what would come next. Vanderwood solidified his stance. "Ready...steady...GO!" The couple raced to the living room and took a running jump onto the couch, ready for the wonderful night ahead.

[brightmalcolm]

How much time do you think passed from when Martin captured Sophie and the camping trip? I use to think it was at least a few months in between but now I think Martin was just trying to scare Malcolm. I wish they'd tell us the exact timeline. It probably doesn't matter to most people but it drives me crazy. Also, in an interview it was said that Martin doesn't know everything that happened during the trip. What the heck doesn't he know?!

Great question; I also used to think it was like 3 months lmao but I agree, I feel like that would be a long time to keep a drugged up unconscious woman in your house. The thing is, John and Martin make it seem like Malcolm was chloroformed quite frequently (enough to build up a “”””tolerance”””” for it). So maybe Malcolm was finding other victims in the months leading up to the camping trip? But for what we know now, I’m guessing about a week happened in between Malcolm finding the body and the camping trip. Considering that in Martin’s dream, he’s wearing the same sweater he wears when in the study with Malcolm when he finds the GITB, I think the kidnapping happened the same day. So the timeline is something like:

1. Martin, knowing Jessica and the kids are going to the Hamptons for the weekend, got Sophie to come back to his house and then drugged her (I like how they abandoned the whole “tea laced with ketamine thing bc Martin just straight up chloroforms her lmao). Unfortunately, the highway to Long Island is blocked so Jessica returns home with the kids. Martin panics and hides Sophie in a trunk in the basement.

2. Later that night, Malcolm comes down to visit his dad in his office. Martin is probably internally freaking out, but decides to just act like everything is normal. So he talks to Malcolm about anatomy for a bit, then tries to send him upstairs for bed. Unfortunately, even at 10 years old Malcolm was a messy little bitch who lives for the drama, so he goes snooping in his fathers things and finds an unconscious Sophie. Martin panics and knocks Malcolm out with the chloroform he used on Sophie and takes him up to bed.

3. About a week goes by. Jessica reschedules the Hamptons trip for that weekend. Malcolm keeps asking his dad about the GITB so he keeps drugging him to try and get him to fully forget. Unfortunately, it’s not working very well and John is pissed and paranoid about Malcolm telling. Martin probably moved Sophie to John’s junkyard by now and he’s keeping her drugged up in the trunk of a car. They decide to kill two birds with one stone (Ha) and go on a camping trip to kill Sophie and Malcolm (eh). Idk how Martin explained why Malcolm wasn’t going to go to the Hamptoms bc Jessica didn’t know about the trip, but he probably just tells her he wants to spend some guy time with Malcolm that weekend and so she and Ainsley should just go on their own. Also he buys his 10 year old a knife bc Why Not.

3. John, Malcolm, and Martin go on the camping trip. Bc this little bitch can’t mind his own business, Malcolm get chloroformed AGAIN after finding Sophie in the trunk of the car. No wonder dude remembers nothing from it. All the shit that we know goes down and all the shit we still don’t know about goes down. Sophie is freed and Malcolm and Martin go home while John bleeds out in a river in New Jersey. John also probably does something to provoke Malcolm into doing something to stab him, so maybe that’s what Martin doesn’t know about?

4. Another week goes by. Something triggers Malcolm to call the police; maybe he was looking for the GITB again and found incriminating photos or maybe he just had a nightmare but wtv the reason he calls the cops and Martin is arrested. Also during this time (or, more likely, during the trip) SOMETHING changes Martin’s view of his son bc he goes from I gotta murder a kid to he is my legacy even if he called the cops. I’m guessing it was either Malcolm stabbing John or Malcolm and Martin killed someone together, hence the still unexplained stabbing flashback (”come on, boy” anyone?). 

I’m hoping one of the mysteries in season 2 is telling us not only what else happened on the camping trip, but what happened in between the week of the trip and the night Malcolm called the cops. Especially on that night since we now know there’s no way Malcolm found Sophie bc she was long gone by then. I’m hoping all the mystery and vagueness is both just good storytelling (can’t reveal EVERYTHING) + making the audience feel the frustration Malcolm feels with the gaps in his memories and they didn’t just like...forget half the flashbacks lmao.