You spend the day with Sam on an official date as an official couple. Things are great. You're great together, and you wish it could last. Could it be the calm before the storm?
note:
the song sam plays is Baby Im-a Want You by Bread
sorry chapters might be slower (dw im still writing, just at a slower pace bc pain) i haven't been feeling too great so it's been hard to write. thank you if you're still here reading my lil fic i appreciate you all so much <3
It was bliss, holding Sam throughout the night then, then waking up next to him, all the while knowing he was yours. You had enough money to quit your monotonous job and move in with Sam.
“Good morning,” he'd smile early in the morning, putting an arm around your shoulder.
“Morning,” you snuggled in closer to him.
The sunlight seeping through the window was warm and it made being in Sam’s bed even more comfortable.
“Nice day out, huh?” He looked out the window. “Do you wanna do anything today?”
“Hmm,” you laid your head on his chest, tracing the curly hair on his chest. “I kinda wanna stay in bed.”
You felt his chest rumble as he laughed. “Like every single day?”
“It’s not so bad."
He moved and kissed you. Softly at first, but as he wrapped his arms around your waist, it deepened.
You smiled into the kiss. He really was officially yours and it felt so good to finally call him your boyfriend . Just the thought gave you butterflies.
“Let's go out,” Sam said, rolling on top of you to caress your cheek. “We have all the money and time in the world. Let's go on a date… Officially.”
“Officially. I like that,” You put your arms around his neck. “What should we do?”
You ended up sitting on a bench at the park downtown, eating strawberry ice cream and watching people pass by. Sam had an arm around your shoulders as he talked about anything that popped up in his mind. He was such a complex man, you thought. There were times he was quiet, deep in thought, but he could be so talkative and spontaneous too.
“You got some…” You pointed at the corner of his lip. “Some ice cream there.”
He smiled as you wiped it off with your finger. “I could get used to this relationship thing.”
“You've never been in one?”
“I have… I think,” he looked at you. “But nothing like this.”
You told him he was corny but he meant it. Sam was stupidly in love with you, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. When was the last time he felt this way, he wondered. Was it Crystal? Did that even count?
As you walked around, you held hands, Sam intertwining his with yours until you ended up at an old thrift store run by an elderly man, who quietly sat at the counter. A soft love song played from the small radio next to him.
“What do you think of this?” Sam asked, holding up a blue Hawaiian shirt decorated with pink flamingos.
“Um,” you chuckled, putting the shirt back in the rack. “I think we should retire the Hawaiian shirts, Sam.”
“You thought the one I wore at Nathan’s was pretty sexy, though,” he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I should probably wear that again, maybe it'll get me laid tonight.”
“Sam,” you whispered, glancing around. “We're in public.”
“So?” He grinned before leaning over to give you a quick kiss.
“God, you're insatiable,” you laughed, pulling away. As you did, he took your hand in his.
You continued to look around, rolling your eyes as Sam picked out another shirt. It was a green bowling shirt with “No Time to Spare” stitched on the chest.
“It's not a Hawaiian shirt,” he protested and you gave in. He did look good in it.
“Okay, what about this for me?” You held up a shirt with turtles on it.
“‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Squirtles’?” Sam narrowed his eyes as he read it before he burst out laughing.
“What?” You asked. “You don't know what this Pokemon is?”
“What's a Pokemon?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “I just thought…”
“They're short for Pocket Monsters where you…” You looked down at the shirt and read it again. “Oh.”
“You should get it, baby,” he smiled.
You blinked him, surprised.
“What?” He was suddenly concerned.
“You called me baby. ”
“I always do.”
“Not outside of bed,” you pouted.
“I guess I should start using it more, babe,” he put an emphasis on babe.
You had a late lunch at a small family-run diner that Sam frequented before you were together. He was on a first-name basis with the staff and you admired the way he was just so charming with other people.
He ordered pancakes and coffee for both of you, taking his time with his food to talk to you.
“Your pancakes are better,” you mentioned. “You promised to make me some, remember?”
Sam laughed, his leg bumping against yours under the table. “Right. I'll make them again, I promise.”
“I'll remember that.”
Sam told you about his mother, Cassandra, recalling all the good memories he had with her, intentionally leaving Frank out from all of them. He explained that his last name used to be Morgan, but after an incident involving stealing Cassandra’s journals back, he and Nathan ran away from Boston and changed their names.
“We never looked back,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Good riddance.”
“Is that why you chose California?”
“ Victor chose California,” he blurted. “But the weather is better, so I can't complain.”
In return, you told him about yourself, how you had an absent, narcissistic mother and an older brother who left as soon as he could. You never felt like you had a family, and Sam took your hand in his.
He wanted to tell you you weren't alone anymore, that he wanted to be your family, that you had Nathan and Elena, but he didn't. He just held your hand as he listened.
At the end of the day, you felt like you knew him better than before. Despite all the times you'd slept together, this was one of the first times you felt like you actually felt like you got to know who Samuel Drake was.
Sam had you standing against the door as you got home, his hands on your waist. He didn’t say anything as he rested his forehead against yours.
“God, I’m so in love with you,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him.
He kissed you and you could still taste the sweet maple from the pancakes and coffee on his lips. You felt his fingers linger at the hem of your shirt, touching the soft skin underneath. As your lips moved to his neck, following the tattooed birds, he sighed.
You got on your knees, your hands lingering on his belt.
“What was that again?” You looked at him through your eyelashes.
“You just wanna hear it again,” he chuckled.
“Oh, I really wanna hear it,” you batted your eyes at him.
Sam knelt down and cupped your chin. “I’m in love with you.”
“Oh, Sam,” you kissed him and pushed him down on the floor.
“Easy there,” he laughed as you straddled him and unbuckled his belt.
You’d pulled his jeans off in no time, keeping eye contact with him as you pulled his boxers off. He groaned when you took him in your mouth, swirling your tongue on the tip of his cock.
Sam had propped himself up on his elbows, one hand in his hair as he watched you. You happily sucked his cock, taking it deep in your mouth, looking up at Sam as you bobbed your head up and down. His hips bucked but you held him down.
“Stay,” you commanded and Sam gave you a stunned look, a crooked grin on his lips.
You wanted to make sure he was on the edge, moaning your name out as his fingers tangled in your hair. His cock twitched in your hand and you pulled away, much to Sam’s disappointment.
“Really?” His voice was hoarse.
“Come here,” you helped him up and led him to the bed.
“I think I like where this is leading,” he wrapped his arms around your waist but you turned around to kiss him, pushing him down on the bed.
“I'm just warmin’ up, sweet cheeks,” you held his hands up over the bed.
“Wha–?” Sam felt the ticklish fuzz on his wrists and heard the click as you handcuffed him to the bed. “Oh, bring it on, kitten.”
“Shut up,” you had his cock in your mouth again and he groaned loudly. You continued to suck and jack him off while he squirmed under you. It was enough to turn you on and you slowly stripped.
Sam tugged on the handcuffs. He wanted to touch you badly, but all he could do was watch. You kissed him softly as you straddled him.
“Ready?” You asked.
“Hell yeah,” he grinned.
Your hands were on Sam’s chest as you rode him, your moans filling his small apartment. You felt sexy on top of him, his wrists handcuffed to the bed.
“You like that?” Your hand slid up to his neck.
“Oh yeah.”
“You love me?”
“Yes, baby, yes,” he moaned. “More, baby.”
You moved your hips faster, your sweat dripping down your back. Sam groaned loudly, desperate to touch you, but he couldn't. It turned you on even more to see him struggle with the fuzzy handcuffs.
You let out a pornographic moan as he bucked his hips up, much to Sam’s satisfaction. You pushed down on his throat gently as you continued to fuck him. It was enough for Sam to cum, lifting his hips up into you.
“Jesus Christ,” he smiled up at you, breathless and sweaty. “If this is love, I don't know why I've been missing out on it.”
“Well,” you climbed off him and undid the handcuffs. “You haven't made me cum yet.”
“Is that so?” He rubbed his wrists before pushing you down on the bed. His fingers were then inside you, vigorously fingering you.
Trying to suppress a scream, you clasped your hands over your mouth. You looked up at Sam who gave you a smug look.
“Cum for me, baby,” he said, pinching your nipple with his free hand.
Your back arched as you reached your orgasm, but that didn't stop Sam. He continued to finger you until you had soaked the bed again.
“Holy fuck,” you panted. “I don't think I'd ever get tired of this.”
“Me neither,” he lay in bed next to you and took your hand in his.
“You really meant it?” You looked at him.
“What?” He kissed your fingers, twirling the ring on your finger. “That I won't get tired of all the sex or that I'm in love with you?”
"The latter, you idiot," you giggled, nodding, and instantly felt stupid. You couldn't help it; it still made you giddy whenever he said it.
“We've been together for months , of course I mean it,” Sam rolled on his side, his finger tracing your lips.
“I love you, too,” you gave him a quick kiss. “I just never thought Samuel Drake would ever say that.”
“I'm a changed man,” he gave you a soft look.
“Well,” you sat up. “I’m starving.”
“Again?” Sam sat up with you and wrapped his arms around you.
“I don't know about you but sometimes vigorous sex makes me hungry.”
Sam heated up some leftovers and you ate together on the counter. You couldn't keep your hands and lips off each other and you found yourself pressed against the fridge making out with Sam.
“I can't get enough of you,” he said in a low voice, grabbing your breasts through the shirt you haphazardly put on.
“Sam,” you laughed. “Ready for round two already?”
“Just a second,” Sam went to his radio to turn it on.
A song started playing and he held a hand out to dance with him. You laughed as he held you, moving along to the beat.
“Baby I'm-a want you, baby I'm-a need you,” he sang along.
“You're such an old man,” you giggled, resting your head on his chest.
“Just because I have great taste in music?”
“I can't argue with that.”
You closed your eyes, taking in Sam’s scent, the beat of his heart, and the music that played. It felt so perfect. Almost too good to be true.
As Sam made love to you again, you wished days like that would last. But as you lay next to him, you had a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You propped yourself up and looked at Sam peacefully sleeping and you felt the butterflies in your stomach again.
my husband (charles smith) + “let me take care of you” (sick or nsfw ;) )
OBVIOUSLY I'm going to go with the NSFW option. I know you mentioned a female reader, but this came out gender neutral instead :^)
---
"What's a matter?" Charles questions for the tenth time tonight. You can be quite the fidgeter, but tonight has been worse than usual, all thanks to the heated sensation between your thighs. It doesn't help that Charles has been feeding it, caressing your thighs as you sit on his lap, attempting to distract you from the campfire stories by discreetly kissing along your neck.
"Nothing," you quietly reply.
Charles lets out a defeated sigh, beaten yet again by your stubbornness. "Come on, something's up. Tell me."
You briefly pause, shuffling higher up on his lap, speaking directly in his ear in an attempt to be seductive and secretive. "You know what's up, Charles."
"Oh?" Charles replies with a quirked brow and a smug expression. He kneads your thigh yet again, dangerously close to your crotch, and kisses that soft spot behind your ear before whispering "let's go to bed then."
"Now?" you almost stutter your response. Charles is playing a risky game, attempting to seduce you whilst being this close to the other camp members. Hopefully they haven't heard, but even if they have, it's none of their business.
"Yes, now," Charles orders. "Let me take care of you..."
My God baby you only tagged me?!??😭💕💖💕💖💕 I love you!! adorable, gorgeous girl!!😙
Guess it will be me so! I prefer to only sit with camp ladies and doing chores and playing with Jack instead of running and robbing banks with boys😅😂 going to tag @lazydayattheloft (Jess you HAVE TO do this picrew too!!🙊😆) @its-deputy-caleb 💕 @bluekingdedede (I know this picrew designed for 'girls' but umm.. I really wanted to tag you!!🙈) @mallr4ts @tahitianmangoes @parsnip-enthusiast @pistolpackinmamma @vanderlindeee @kaaate @cinnamon-treebranch
No pressure if you don't want to do this so! Love you all :) ♡♡♡♡
thank u for the tag<3<3 i had to edit my hair bc they just didn’t have my hair colour, but hey, this is super cute!!!! not gna tag anyone, but if you wanna do it then DO IT!
My second follower giveaway fic! These are coming out wayyyy longer than i anticipated so thats why they take so long LOL
Charles Smith/fem!Reader
Word Count: ~2600
Rating: Explicit | A/B/O, heats/ruts, smut, inherent dubcon of heats/ruts
It should never have been so sudden. Out of the blue. One minute, you were making your way through the crowd of the train station, and the next you could feel everyone’s eyes on you.
Most of the looks were of pity. Your discomfort and fear were written clear across your face.
And then there was the danger. A pack of men in dark coats who were making their way off the platform had turned at the scent of the wind.
Hey there, love! Can you do a HC about a gang member who is like a sister to John and Arthur taking a bullet while fighting with them?
Ohhh yes of course! I love this request! ❤
Arthur and John have known you since your younger years. Since you were a teenager and just joining the Van Der Linde gang.
Dutch and Hosea had taken you in when you tried to rob their room while they slept at the local hotel in your hometown.
Caught red handed, and with a revolver in your face.
Probably wasn't the best idea in hindsight but nevertheless, they took mercy on you and didn't shoot you.
No, they admired your attempt, and asked for a reason why.
Orphaned, left to either steal or work in the worsening conditions as a working girl of the night.
They took you in that night, thus making you the "unruly daughter" of the "odd couple".
The "unruly sister" as well, it would seem.
John and Arthur were weary of you at first, and consequently so, they didn't interact right away.
You were a younger girl, and you had no experience besides basic thieving, making you prime to be taught.
But you had a personality that made the men careful around you.
You were calm and sweet. Caring and gentle at times.
The next you had a temper and a sense of humor that rivalled all of theirs.
What made the boys finally come around was how natural of a shot you were when you got the hang of it.
How you became so good at what Dutch and Hosea had you learning that soon enough you were going on small missions with the boys to hone your skills further.
And that brings you here, many years later between them on the seat of a carriage.
Riding into town for a supply run and going back and forth, debating your latest choice in potential partners among the camp,
"M'tellin' ya, Javier has got that look in his eyes when he sees ya." Morgan bumped your shoulder when you shake your head.
"He gets that look every time he sees legs he can get between." You retort, slapping his shoulder.
"Well, Sean's got that uh, what'd h'call it, pièce de résistance or somethin' like that. Think he can woo ya, pip squeak?" Marston questioned with a smirk, earning the next slap that sends his hat off of his head.
"Not t'mention how Bill or Lenny are tryin' their damndest to get ya out on missions with 'em." You pout, attempting another slap only to have your hand caught in one of Arthur's bigger ones.
"That ain't true, Arthur! They respect me-" You attempt.
"They're respectin' that be-hind o'yours and tryin' t'get ya in their tents!" John laughed, seeing the color on your cheeks rise quickly.
That's when the galloping started, quick and fast along either side of the carriage, and the boys went on alert.
"US State Marshalls! Mr. Morgan, Mr. Marston, and Ms. (Last name), y'all are comin' with us." The man calls out.
"Well there, mister, we can all be nice and have a little chat." Arthur drawls back with snark.
Marston reaches for his revolver when a gun is pulled on Arthur, your gun following suit.
"Stop this carriage or we will be at will to shoot ya, Mr. Morgan." The Marshall called.
Then the shots start ringing when Arthur sped up.
Your form is quick to jump into the back, the Cattleman Revolver shots ringing out in the air.
Arthur ran the horses as hard as he could until a too sharp turn took over.
"Hold on!" He called as the carriage toppled over with the horses, sending the occupants out and into the swamp.
The shots kept coming, and the thundering of hooves approached closer and closer.
A mingle of shots from all directions, and the lawmen began to fall.
One by one, until the bodies littered the murky, alligator infested waters.
Silence flooded the air, and the rush of a gunfight began to fade away.
"Everyone alright?" Arthur questioned when he came out from behind a tree, coming to survey the damage.
"Fine." John called in turn, moving to join Arthur. "(First name)?"
When they don't hear a reply from you, they look at each other, soon rushing about to find you in the swamp.
Behind trees, in the waters, they searched and searched until they heard a sputtering cough coming from one of the shallow bits of land.
There you were, breathing heavy and hand crutching at your chest to stop the blood that had began to blossom.
Your back rested against a fallen tree, gun long forgotten at your side and empty of shots.
"(First name)!" The boys come to you, worry evident in their gazes.
"We're gon' get y'the help ya need, kid." John takes the bandana he had on him and holds it to your wound, replacing your hand.
There was panic setting in, but the boys attempted the best composure they could muster.
Arthur gets the horses that ran off.
John gathers you up in his arms.
It's a combined effort to get you onto John's horse, to lean against him.
It was a need to put your trust in the boys who learned to put their trust in you.
It was your turn.
They come into camp, and the panic spreads.
Mrs. Grimshaw has John take you to your tent, laying your bloody form down.
"How can I help?" He questioned in a hurry, hand not quite letting go of your own just yet.
"Out. John Marston, I need ya out." Mrs. Grimshaw replied hurriedly, gesturing for the man to let go and leave.
He does, but he doesn't leave the outside of the tent, taking a seat as he waits for Arthur to come back by.
Someone had to explain to Dutch and Hosea what happened.
Why the "Odd couples unruly daughter" was shot in the process.
After a while, he takes a seat beside John, hat removed and a cigarette lighted.
"How is she doin'?" He questioned the man, gaze not quite meeting his own.
"Grimshaw said she'd live, but that bullet did some nasty damage." John remarked softly. "Gotta watch for that gangrene."
A grunt of agreement leaves Arthur, head falling back against the support of the tent.
They wait there for a number of hours, waiting for a chance to talk with you.
When they finally see Grimshaw leave after the last fever check for the night, she gestured for the men to enter.
There you lay, gaze meeting the two worried boys faces and a small grin spreads on you.
When you try to sit up, they are quick to stop you at the notice of pain.
"Hey now, slow it down. Y'ain't gettin' back in the saddle any time soon." Arthur approached with a gentle hand pushing your shoulder until you're back down.
"Seems y'two worried 'bout me." You remark slowly, making John shake his head with a grin.
"Not as much as Lenny." He remarked.
"Or Sean." Arthur adds.
"Or Javier!" John contributed another name that makes you groan in annoyance, the sound rougher than usual.
"Enough boys! Enough! I'll be beggin' for death if y'all are gon' be keepin' this up." You cough after your laugh, making the boys come closer to your side. "Hey, I ain't beggin' yet. I'll be fine."
"And we're gon' hold ya to it." John finally states, sending a sheepish smile.
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