#warfare2025edit

Sam(warfare)xfem!reader

Word Count: 337

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Warnings: dead rodents

a/n: didn't intend on doing a second post today but here it is

dividers by @dividers-are-us

“OH MY GOD!” you practically scream bloody murder as you slam the kitchen cabinet under the sink closed.

“NOPE, NOPE, NOPE!” You start pacing the kitchen. “That’s a HARD no. I’m not touching that.”

You’re yelling at nobody—Sam isn’t even home yet when you start to freak out. Thankfully, you’re only a few minutes into your meltdown when Sam walks in from physical therapy, curly bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls out, but then heads straight for the kitchen when he hears you. He stops dead, completely baffled.

You’re standing there in rain boots, a trash bag turned into an apron, heavy-duty dishwashing gloves on, and a pair of tongs with Walmart bags duct-taped to the ends.

“Uhhhhh… babe?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck. “Why do you look like you’re about to fight an alien in the kitchen?”

Your face is deadly serious. “There is a DEAD MOUSE under our sink!” you shriek. “I don’t know if you know this Sam, but I don’t do mice. You weren’t home, and I couldn’t just leave it there, so I was making do with what I had.” You snap the bag-wrapped tongs together for emphasis.

To Sam’s credit, he tries not to laugh. He doesn’t succeed.

“Well, I’m home now, so how about we put the tongs down and I’ll handle it?” He takes them gently out of your hand like he’s disarming a bomb. “You were very brave to try, but I’ve got it from here.” He sets a hand on your trash-bag-covered lower back and kisses the top of your head. “I’ll take one for the team and handle all rodents in the future.”

“I almost had it handled,” you grumble.

Sam snorts so hard you glare at him, but then you deflate a little and shove your face into his neck.

“Thanks for taking care of the dead rodent.”

“Thanks for trying to take care of it first, honey"

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Sam(warfare)xfem!reader

Summary: Period pains are a bitch, and Sam is more than willing to try and make you feel better

Wordcount: 1196

warnings: fluff, blood, talks of shedding, menstruation obvi

Masterlist Series masterlist

Your day had started out decently well. Sure, you were tired, but after working a 12-hour shift the day before, it wasn’t anything unusual. Sam had made you coffee just how you like it, and you’d even gotten an enthusiastic goodbye in the driveway that may have given the neighbors an eyeful.

As the day wore on, you started to feel crummier and crummier—the beginnings of a migraine pounding behind your eyes, nausea that just wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom halfway through your shift that you saw the telltale red spot in your underwear. With your head pounding and stomach churning, you felt like you wanted to cry. This wasn’t anything you hadn’t felt before; logically, you knew this was going to happen in the coming days. It didn’t stop your eyes from glazing over with frustrated tears as you cleaned yourself up and blindly grabbed a pad from the dispenser. After dry-swallowing some Motrin, you did your best to grin and bear it until, mercifully, it was time to go home.

Getting home couldn’t happen fast enough, but naturally there was an accident on the way, making the five-mile drive take half an hour. When you finally did make it home, you wanted to cry with relief. Sam was here, your bed was here—surely you’d feel better in no time. A cuddle and your heating pad would do wonders right now.

Except, as you walked into the dark house, your brain started to connect the dots: Sam wasn’t here. Today was Sam’s veteran support group. You blindly dropped your work bag and lunch box just inside the door as your shoes went flying in the opposite direction of the front closet. Tears welled up again in your eyes, but you made no effort to stop them. All you could do was mutter at yourself about how ridiculous you were being as you made your way to the bedroom. You blindly grabbed the shirt on top of Sam’s laundry hamper and crawled into his side of the bed, the smell of him clinging to the pillow and lulling you to sleep.

As Sam pulled up to the house, he immediately noticed two things: your car was in the driveway, so you were in fact home, but the house was pitch-black. You hadn’t bothered to turn on a single light, which was very strange. Despite therapy and support groups, Sam couldn’t entirely ignore the tingle at the back of his neck—the sense that something was wrong. Call him paranoid; he probably was. But his hackles rose as he opened the front door and flicked the foyer light on.

He was immediately greeted by a pile of shoes, bags, and lunch boxes discarded right in front of the door. A flicker of irritation passed through him—he was used to regulation cleanliness. The army had drilled it into him: a place for everything and everything in its place.

“Sweetheart?” Sam called out as he stooped to put your shoes and bag in the closet, where they’d be forgotten until you had to go back to work in a couple of days.

“Honey, I’m home!” he tried again, depositing your lunch box on the kitchen counter. He was about to walk away when he flicked the lid open and discovered you hadn’t eaten your lunch—likely hadn’t eaten since he’d gotten you breakfast.

Sam was frowning down at your uneaten food when he heard the rustling of the comforter in the bedroom.

“Sam?” you called out weakly.

Any irritation Sam had been feeling fell away in an instant. He could hear it in your voice—you didn’t feel well.

“Hey, baby girl. How ya feeling?” Sam asked as he strolled into the bedroom to turn on a light.

You hissed like a vampire exposed to sunlight and dove under the blankets. “Like shit,” you muttered.

“What’s the prognosis of your shitty feeling, sexy nurse?” Sam teased, trying to dig you out of your cocoon.

“The same one that tortures me every month, soldier,” you said, poking your head out from under the comforter, looking not unlike a bedraggled, long-haired cat—not that Sam would ever tell you that.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” Sam barely got the words out before you were making grabby hands at him.

“One snug, please.”

“Anything to help my baby girl feel better.”

As the blankets were pulled back, you both saw the red smears on the sheets at the same time.

“Fuck,” you whined, throwing your head back. “I guess the snug can wait until after I change the bed sheets.”

Sam gave you an unimpressed look. “You don’t need to worry about changing anything. Go boil yourself like a lobster in the shower, and I’ll handle things in here.”

“Sam, it’s fine. I’m the one who got the blood everywhere—”

“Baby, I’ve been in some of the worst combat zones you could ever imagine. You think I can’t handle a little blood?”

“I—just—but—” you stammered before finally accepting your fate of a boiling-hot shower. “Thank you.” You placed a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Not even close, sweetheart. You’re the best.”

“Noooooo,” you started to bicker.

“Go shower. I’m gonna change the bed and then order us way too much Chinese. Sound like a plan?”

You threw a really bad salute at him just as another cramp ripped through your lower abdomen.

“And I’ll make you some tea when you get out.”

Sam dug through his closet for your favorite shirt and sweats of his to ensure maximum comfort, then took you by the shoulders and guided you to the bathroom.

By the time you’d showered—or, as Sam called it, boiled yourself like a lobster—the Chinese food had been delivered and the electric tea kettle was gently starting to boil on the counter.

“Chicken fried rice?” you asked hopefully.

“And crab rangoon. The favorites for the menstruating woman of the house.”

That made you laugh as you moved over to the couch while Sam finished dishing out Chinese food onto plates. Seeing your heating pad plugged in next to the couch and already warming up made your heart grow three sizes.

“Here you go, baby.” Sam set your plate on the coffee table and kissed the side of your head. “You’re not to do anything but rest and shed body parts this weekend. After all the caring you’ve given me, it’s my turn to take care of you. You even get to pick what movie to watch.”

Your eyes sparkled. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.” You didn’t even miss a beat.

The dramatic groan Sam unleashed into the living room could win him an Oscar, but he got up to play the movie anyway before settling back on the couch.

“You can never claim I don’t love you more if I’m watching this movie with you again,” he muttered.

You shrugged at him before shoveling a pile of food into your mouth. “I’m shedding body parts, dude. I should get what I want for the next week regardless of love. That being said, I definitely love you more.”

Masterlist Series Masterlist

taglist:

Sam(warfare)xfem!reader

Word Count: 687

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Warnings: suggestive flirting, weight gain, baked goods

a/n: guardian angel universe is already back!

divider by @dividers-are-us

Sam knew he wanted you to come live with him from the first time you visited. He never pushed, but that was always the goal for him. Now that you’re here—living, loving, and cooking for him—he’s starting to think he should have asked you to move in sooner.

The dinners were amazing. He’s never had such a perfect chicken parm in all his life, and he’d swear up and down that you make it special with love somehow. But the desserts? Oh my god, the things you manage to bake for him. It doesn’t help that he has the worst sweet tooth known to man, but really, how is he supposed to resist?

That exact thought is going through his head as you finish icing a tray of pumpkin bars—one of his absolute favorites. There he stands, practically drooling over your shoulder, waiting for them to be done so he can finally taste your magnificent creation.

With one last swipe of the spatula, you declare, “There—my masterpiece is complete.” You turn your head to kiss Sam on the cheek as he rests his chin on your shoulder, acting not unlike a puppy doing his best to be good in order to get a treat.

“Do you want to try a piece?”

The question is barely out of your mouth before he’s shouting yes, practically vibrating with excitement. You carefully cut him a piece and set it on a plate. He doesn’t even bother with the fork you provided, just takes a hearty bite.

What follows is the single most pornographic moan ever caused by a baked confection.

“Oh my god, you’re an animal,” you laugh at him.

Sam doesn’t hear a word as he gets up to cut himself another behemoth piece of pumpkiny delight. After a solid six minutes of watching this man in awe as he eats his body weight in baked goods, he finally slows down.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, somehow sounding winded. “I’m wifing you up tomorrow. There ain’t no way I’m ever letting you go now. My waistline? Yes. You? Absolutely not—you aren’t going anywhere.”

You just laugh as he takes your hand and pulls you into his lap.

“Was that a proposal I heard?” you tease as you settle into his lap, looping your arms around his neck.

“Disregard that. When I propose, you won’t have to question it. I’ll do it right—might even manage to get down on one knee,” he says with a smirk.

You kiss him lightly. “Copy that, Soldier. I’ll disregard any pumpkin-bar-fueled proposals.” You poke his softer-than-it-used-to-be belly. “Do I also disregard the part about you doubling your body weight with pumpkin and cream cheese?”

He waves a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Totally worth it.”

You can’t entirely disagree. In the time you’ve been consistently feeding him full, well-rounded meals, he’s gained twenty to thirty pounds. He was already a very attractive man before, but putting a little extra weight on him has only made him more so.

“I don’t mind you looking well-fed either, Soldier,” you say as you lean forward, leaving kisses on his neck. “More cuddly this way.”

His hands find your waist, moving in slow circles around your lower back. “More cuddly, huh?”

You just nod as you continue peppering his neck with kisses. “More to grab onto,” you whisper directly in his ear.

His only reaction is to let his head fall back against the chair, eyes closed, exposing his neck to you as his grip tightens on your waist. When you start to suck on the skin of his pulse point, he lets out a groan.

“I got something else you can suck on and grab onto,” he says gruffly.

“Mhm,” you hum into his neck before pulling back with a wicked smirk. “Why don’t we head to the bedroom and see how grabbable it is?”

Before you can react, he’s practically pushing you off his lap, grabbing your hand, and marching you through the small cottage toward the bed. All you can do is follow—laughing happily the whole way.

masterlist Series Masterlist

Guardian Angel Part 3

Sam (warfare) x fem!reader

Word Count: 1524

Series Master List

Warnings: Angst, thigh riding, NFSW, MDNI 18+ let me know if I missed anything

a/n: I didn't intend for it to end how it did, but they really just did what they wanted in this part

also, if you want to be tagged when new parts of this come out let me know in the comments

divider by @dividers-are-us

It wasn’t long after your road trip that Sam got the news he’d need another surgery on his legs. He was crushed, to say the least.

“The docs had hoped physical therapy would help, that things would be improving, and the pain would have lessened more than it has,” he said glumly. “Since it’s not, they gotta go in, clean things up some, and hope this is the last one.”

“Sam—” you tried to say something, but you were interrupted by a thud and a crash.

“FUCK!” he shouted. “Surgery AGAIN. Stuck in a wheelchair AGAIN. Sometimes I wish that damn IED had just blown my legs off.” He scoffed.

“Sam,” you said sternly, trying to snap him out of his downward spiral. “Don’t you dare fucking say that. You are damn lucky to still have your legs and be able to walk.”

You didn’t want to lay into him, but he needed to hear it. “Yes, this is a setback, and yes, it sucks. But all of this is worth it to have normally functioning limbs.” You huffed in annoyance. At least Sam had the self-awareness to sit quietly while you yelled at him.

“I saw a lot of guys in that hospital lose a limb they’d love to have back. You think Elliot wouldn’t love to be able to walk on his own two feet again?”

Sam stayed quiet for a long moment. “You’re right,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so frustrated I have to do this again.”

Your heart broke for him. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name slipped out without you even realizing.

“Are you gonna be okay at home? Will your cousin still be able to help?” you asked after a moment.

“She can help some, but she’s already done so much and taken so much time off work. I feel bad asking for more,” Sam admitted, sounding stressed. “I wish my guardian angel was here. One of those fantastic hugs of hers would sure make me feel better.”

You laughed lightly. “I don’t know, her hugs seem pretty average to me. But say the word and she’ll do her best to make that hug happen.”

Sam sighed sadly. “I wish it could be you I wake up to after this surgery. I wish it could be you taking care of me and not six hours away, taking care of everyone else. I miss you, even though I just saw you.”

Without thinking, the words slipped out of your mouth. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll take my vacation from work and come down there to nurse you back to health.”

“Word,” was all he responded with.

That’s how you found yourself a month later sitting in a VA hospital, holding Sam’s hand as he waited to go back for surgery.

“Thank you for being here,” Sam said for what felt like the millionth time.

“Of course. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you replied as you cupped his cheek. He nuzzled into your hand.

“How are you feeling, tough guy?”

He grinned. “A little dopey. Those calming meds sure did the trick.”

You nodded. “That’s good. No need to be stressed right now.”

Sam was midway through thanking you again when the nurses came in to take him back.

“I’ll be waiting here for you when you wake up,” you promised. With a quick peck on the lips, he was off.

Two hours of people-watching later, the restaurant-style buzzer you’d been given went off to let you know Sam was out of surgery. You were never really worried, but you still felt a sense of relief knowing he was okay.

After checking in at the nurses’ desk, you headed back into recovery. For the first time, Sam looked small—which you never thought possible for a six-foot-plus man. Curled up in bed, surrounded by monitors, sleeping off anesthesia, he seemed so much more frail.

You sat in the chair next to his bed to wait for him to wake up. At some point, you drifted off, too. You had no clue how long you’d been asleep in that uncomfortable vinyl-covered chair when you woke to a voice.

“You’re awake,” came from the bed beside you.

“Sam! You’re awake!” you practically jumped out of your chair to grab his hand.

“Yeah, just woke up with the ability to start remembering things a little while ago. Nurse said we’ve both been asleep a good long while.” A soft smile graced his lips.

You ran your free hand across the top of his head, scratching lightly with your nails. Sam let out a satisfied groan.

“Everything went perfect. The doctors are pretty positive that was your last surgery. Just rest up and you’ll be good as new,” you told him as you continued to caress his head.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’d like to be done with surgeries, hospitals, and constant trips to the VA.”

“You will be. And once you’re healed up, we can have any adventure you want.”

That made Sam smile. “I don’t care what we do, as long as I’m with you, sweetheart.”

He didn’t stay awake much longer, the anesthesia eventually pulling him back to sleep.

Luckily, Sam was only in the hospital for a day before being released to go home. While restless about not being able to walk again, at least with the comforts of home he had ample distractions.

Sam also seemed determined to find other distractions.

Being his nurse in Germany and being his nurse at home were very different experiences—which you expected. Obviously it wasn’t going to be the same. What you didn’t expect was how suddenly handsy Sam became in the privacy of his own home.

What started as the brush of a hand on your leg or resting his hand on your thigh while you gave him his medicine quickly turned into more.

“Come on, baby. I haven’t had you 24/7 all to myself before. Indulge me,” he whined. “You’re here, I’m here, we’re alone, not going anywhere. We’ve got to pass the time somehow.”

That actually made you chuckle.

“Sam,” you said as you stood between his battered and bandaged legs, running a hand over his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby. You’ve only been home three days.”

Sam tilted his head back, resting his chin on your stomach before placing a kiss on your navel. “My thighs are fine, sweetheart. It’s only from the knee down that’s fucked.” His hands slid around your hips and over your ass. “Besides, what if you kissed them to make everything feel better?”

He gently tugged on your hands, urging you to sit in his lap. You resisted for a moment before giving in.

“See, sweetheart? Totally fine. Not hurting me in the slightest.” Then he kissed you—not an all-consuming kiss, but something slow and gentle, with the promise of more.

“I’d argue I’m so much better than fine right now, baby,” he whispered, trailing wet kisses down your throat.

“Sam…” Your voice came out breathless. You leaned your head back, exposing your throat, clutching his shoulders.

“That’s right, baby. We can make each other feel so much better,” he rumbled.

The sound made you moan and tug at the back of his head, trying to capture his lips with yours. His hands were everywhere—on your thighs, running up your back, one tangled in your hair. When he gave your hair a tug, you moaned again, wiggling in his lap.

A dark chuckle escaped him. “You like that, baby? You like it when I pull your hair?”

You tried to sound composed, but the “mhmm” that left your throat betrayed you.

“Say the word and I’ll pull your hair anytime you want, baby.” He punctuated it with a squeeze to your ass, which had you rolling your hips over his length.

“Sam,” you sighed again as you continued the motion.

He only responded by gripping your hips, grinding up into you. “You feel so good, baby,” he moaned into your neck.

You grabbed the back of his head, forcing his mouth to your skin. He didn’t hesitate, littering you with love bites and kisses to soothe the sting of his teeth.

Suddenly, you weren’t worried about his medications or whether this was hurting him—all you cared about was your pleasure and his.

The tension coiled tight inside you as you moved in his lap.

“Sam… I’m… I’m—” You couldn’t even form the words.

“It’s okay, baby. Let go. If you can, I can,” he groaned.

Something inside you snapped. You arched your back, a raw moan tearing out of you. That was enough to push Sam over the edge, too.

You stayed wrapped up in each other for a few minutes before you finally stirred.

“Best nurse ever,” he said with a lopsided grin.

You chuckled. “That kind of care comes for you only. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He nodded. “Who knew almost getting my legs blown off would lead to cumming in my pants like a teenager, eight months later?”

All you could do was throw your head back and laugh.

Masterlist

more coming soon!

Guardian Angel Part 1|Part 2|Part 3🌶️|Part 4

Pumpkin Bars

Favorite Things

Mouse in the House

Achy legs and rainy days 🌶️

Period Pains

divider by @dividers-are-us

Sam (warfare 2025)

Guardian Angel

Emperor Geta

Angellus

Billy the Kid (2022)

Abandoned

Hayloft