#scandal based

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

I've been getting some DMs about this one. Thanks, btw!

Sinopsis: In this AU Sydney becomes the first African-American Female President of the USA and Carmy is her fixer. Same Scandal Olitz dynamic but in reverse, where Carmy would play Olivia Pope's role and Syd would be the cheating spouse.

Syd is married to Luca, they go way back. Luca is bi and Syd is an ally, he's in the closet, though, but not with her (kinda bc since he got to the WH as VP, he's pretty much celibate). Coincidentally that was when Carmy and Syd started their affair but Carmy did not wreck an unhappy home, he didn't save her from a loveless marriage. Syd and Luca were perfectly content, they would have used the word "happy", even, before Carmy showed up and Syd fell down bad for him and Carmy started to worship the ground beneath her feet, two years before they let it rip, because God knows they tried to fight it every step of the way.

Carmy's ex is the C person (kinda bc before Syd he was a serial situationshipper).

Luca loves Marcus, but Marcus is also in the closet and they don't wanna commit professional suicide, Marcus is Secret Service, Syd's bodyguard and even more careful than Luca, but Luca's love is not unrequited.

This is a love story, BUT it's not about romance or even about adultery. I intend to cut deeper.

The underlying sentiment of the plot that I wanna explore has more to do with loyalty and that thin line that separates betraying others from self-betrayal, than with anything else.

In Part I, Opprobrium, I'll only get as far as the Election.

I'm writing this fic not to arrive to conclusions about any of that, althought I might stumble upon them. Who knows? What I'm interested in is: it raising existential questions, such as: If we can't be loyal and true to ourselves, how the hell are we gonna be loyal to others? In what capacity? Is it even possible? How could we tell? And especially in the political field, where "fixing" the truth to comply with political correctness is a must: How can we even begin to be true to ourselves and others and live up to any meassure of loyalty, self-loyalty or the other kind, if we do that for a living?

In other words: A phylosophical mess, throwing some smut into the mix to make it lighter and more palatable at times, but not cutting down on the harder to digest parts in the process. I don't wanna spare the reader, or myself, the conflicts and oxymorons that the characters will go through to reach their final destination, which is not necessarily living happily everafter. It's much more realistic than that.

Thanks for your feedback so far, I'm listening to every voice and every advice but can't make any promises because this is a WIP and I'm letting it write itself, plus it requires a bunch of research and drafting before I even begin to actually sit down and write the chapters. Ch3 is still in the oven.

The only promise I can make and keep is that it's gonna get worse before it gets better.

See you on Ao3.

G.💋

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Opprobrium | Sneak peek Chapter 1

Sydney Adamu Hotstoff walks into the shadows of his poorly lit downtown DC apartment. Her face relaxed. She’s been here before. She takes off her shoes, untucks her silk blouse to free it from the constriction of her custom pencil skirt, and moves her head to the left to make room for his lips to explore her neck. His lips... Her wedding band has been discarded in the dark depths of her leather bag since she got in the elevator. His lips are far more relevant to her right now. Carmy is right behind her, putting his arms around her waist, and pulling her closer, kissing her neck and pressing his erection against her so she feels what she does to him. She knows. She knows. She turns around and captures his lips in an eager kiss, and that turns into the kickstarter of a sweaty and rough dance of flesh and moans. He quickly removes her clothes, leaving only her white cotton panties on. He likes to eat her through the material. She knows. She knows. He’s kneeling in front of her, desperate, shirtless, feral. She lets him do. Her own heartbeat and their combined labored breathings are all she can hear. She's helpless, yet she feels more alive than ever. Sydney tugs his hair as he acts as if he's feasting on a delicious, juicy, fresh fruit, under the searing desert sun, and she runs her nails on his scalp, purposefully digging in when he latches onto her soaking and pulsating sex till he takes her to the point of no return, where she wants him to fill her completely up. She has to feel him inside her, throbbing, thrusting, claiming, and finally exploding; she doesn’t want to cum in his mouth this time. Sydney wants to clench her muscles around his hardness till he cries her name like a plea, and when she’s right there, riding her climax as he pounds deep inside her, and she’s biting anything she can sink her teeth into, sometimes her own lower lip, some other times his shoulder and occasionally his hand, only then she will know peace. That's exactly why she sneaked out of her house, leaving her loving and oblivious husband behind. She knows. She knows. Peace is a completely foreign concept for Carmen Berzatto. All he knows is her taste. She tastes like going to war for her. He knows. He knows.