Sdv Sam X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Jealous SDV (hybrid?) boys rutting into you after getting jealous after smelling someone else on you <3

Ahhh oh goshhhh okay- I need to whip smth up for this

(I got carried away - forgive me? I went for a ramble and it became smth- I wrote enough for warnings 😭)

Warnings : Smut | 18+ | Hybrid Characters | Scenting | implication of ruts and heats | jealousy | thoughts about lactation & pregnancy | Sam Sebastian Alex Sh*ne | not beta read >v>

PuppyBoy!Sam jumping on you when you finally return home! Hugging you, nuzzling into your neck and sniffing in your scent with a happy sigh when you card your hand through his hair.

PuppyBoy!Sam who stops short, nose pressing hard into your skin, inhaling an ever familiar scent; Sebastian, the Catboy.

PuppyBoy!Sam who whines and whimpers, his yellow-blonde ears drooping down. The smell distressing him despite being best friends with Sebastian for many years - He squirms and cries, glomping over you, tail frantically wagging as he makes an attempt to heavily scent you.

PuppyBoy!Sam pressing his body to your own, weight keeping you on the surface of the bed below, feverishly rocking his hips into your cunt. Heavy balls slapping into your pussy, warm hands all over your body.

PuppyBoy!Sam who can't help but bite and nibble at your skin, slobbering all over you. His tail wiggles and wags, ears pinned to his head, poor croaked voice whimpering and whining, moaning out silly insecurities and desperate attempts to soothe himself.

PuppyBoy!Sam just can't stop crying. "You love me, I know you do!" "M' a Good Boy! Right?" "Better than Seb- Love you more-!" Babbling nonsense while he humps at your gushy pussy and feverishly rubs at your clit.

CatBoy!Sebastian lazily crawling to you on the lounge when you return, slinking across, tail swishing calmy as he snuggles up, gently pawing at your chest.

CatBoy!Sebastian tucking his face into your neck as he carefully kneads at your skin, peppering kisses and nose boops behind your ear.

CatBoy!Sebastian letting out a little feral growl at the offensive scent of someone else lingering on your clothes and skin - Probably that stupid dumb Jock CowHybrid!Alex. His ears pin and his tail stands static.

CatBoy!Sebastian biting and licking his corse tongue over your pretty, sensitive nipples. Hands kneading at your thighs, lips latched over your pert buds. If he thought and imagined hard enough, he could taste your sweet milky cream on his tongue.

CatBoy!Sebastian who gets a little carried away with the thought of you swollen and leaking milk just for him and his Kittens. He can't help but rut and grind up on your clothed cunt.

CatBoy!Sebastian who wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing subtly, coaxing your tongue to lul out of your mouth.

CatBoy!Sebastian who spits on your tongue and kisses you after. Searing hot, canines clattering your own, biting into your soft lips as he pulls away, eyes quinted and lips downturned in a pouty frown.

CowHybrid!Alex knocking his forehead softly into your own, mindful of his budding horns, bringing you into a warm hug after your night out at the Saloon.

CowHybrid!Alex kissing your temple, shucking off your coat to hang up, noticing a wet patch and catching a whiff of something odd - Spilt beer no doubt, tangled in something spicy.. Jalepeno poppers?

CowHybrid!Alex wasting little time, instincts running rampant. Easily manhandling your pretty self to the nearest counter, head in the clouds, mind only focused on reclaiming what was his.

CowHybrid!Alex falling victim to his own Bull heritage - Rutting his cock up between the pretty swell of your ass, horns poking pressure into the back of your head. His jaw threatens to nip and bite into your neck, rough, large hands pressing you down.

CowHybrid!Alex who makes haste at his pants, revealing his veiny leaky cock, pushing the sticky, squishy tip up against your wet panties. Grinding and pushing the barrier of your underwear, messing up the fabric even more with his own leaky pre.

CowHybrid!Alex pulling your panties aside and fucking his thick bull cock into your pretty pussy, tumbling himself into a rut. He moans and shouts, hands on your hips to pull you back on his length.

CowHybrid!Alex who can't help but stare at his fat, drippy bull cock burying up in your tight, wet cunt.

CowHybrid!Alex who would go again and again, releasing his hot milky cum over and over, Marking up on your insides. Messy and gooey, dripping down his own front as he humps at you from behind.

BearHybrid!Shane walking home with you from the Saloon, after a big night of drinking and Pool with the other younger patrons of the town.

BearHybrid!Shane grumbling as you enter the front door, kicking off his shoes. Bending to put them on the rack, standing with a crack in his knee and a glare when you giggle at him.

BearHybrid!Shane who pretends to be mad, pulling you in for a big warm hug, wrapping his arms around your frame, squeezing you snug and tight.

BearHybrid!Shane who lets up a little, nose pressing into your hair and neck, catching a whiff of an abundance of hybrid smells - Some Canine, Feline, all sticking to your skin more than he'd like - Surely those youngin boys weren't stupid enough to make an attempt at anything? Right?

BearHybrid!Shane who thinks he just has to mark you up better, to let everyone know who you really belonged to.

BearHybrid!Shane rubbing his scratchy chin on your neck, pressing his larger body on to your own, putting a warm pressure on your skin.

BearHybrid!Shane licking at your skin, nibbling, biting, kissing up on your torso, leading down, down, down your tummy to your core.

BearHybrid!Shane squeezing at your hips and thighs with his large, warm hands, pawing at your body, caressing and teasing over all the most sensitive and ticklish spots. His large thumbs swiping over your cute, drooly pussy, his own mouth nearly watering at the sight.

BearHybrid!Shane suckling on your clit, lapping his tongue through your sticky folds, grumbling to himself between your legs cause you're just "Too fucken' sweet" "Like fucken' honey, Baby".

BearHybrid!Shane and his scratchy 12 o clock shadow scraping your inner thigh. Large, warm hands squeezing at your hips, pulling your pussy onto his tongue.

BearHybrid!Shane with his lips smushed up on your cunt, nose bumping up on your clit, pretty purple eyes peering up through his dark brow, furrowed and grumpy while he laps and suckles on you. Just spitting and drooling up on your thighs, marking you up with his teeth and slobber.

(I don't have a favourite what do you meannn)

8:05 | SAM

word count: 3.2k

summary: sam’s ten heart event with a twist.

tags: winter, developing relationships, fluff, swearing, cuddling, hiding from his mother in his bed lol

a/n: this spiralled out of my control and into 3k words… enjoy!

it’s cold.

the fleece coat you’ve bundled yourself in cannot protect goosebumps from forming from the biting chill of the valley’s winter nights. your breaths come out in cloudy puffs of air, the heat slowly draining out of every exhale. it’s dark out, poorly spaced lampposts providing the bare minimum amount of light to navigate.

you got sam’s letter earlier, a clumsily written note that was stuffed haphazardly into your farm’s mailbox—the yellow lined paper he used, all crumpled and ripped.

meet me in front of my house! at 8 pm, i’ll be waiting. there’s something i want to tell you.

the ending sentence is somehow even more sloppily written compared to the ones before it. as if he was debating whether or not to add it in, but ultimately decided for it—it’s funny to imagine him hunched over his desk, stressing over what to write to you.

well, you won’t deny feeling excitement over the possibility of whatever sam has to say. if the subtle skip in your step is anything to go by.

you walk through the silent night of the town, it seems like everything’s frozen in place during the colder times of the year—everyone’s safe at home, toasty under their covers and you’d imagine thoroughly enjoying going to bed at 7 pm.

you do too, sometimes. there’s less to do when the ground is too frozen to plant any crop.

there’s a lot more free time out of the farm during the winter. you’ve really started integrating yourself with the townspeople—helping haley find her bracelet, befriending sam’s prickly coworker shane, and even discovering a shadowperson named Krobus in the town sewers. it really is starting to feel like home.

walking, you cut the corner passing by emily and haley’s house—and there he is.

he looks devastatingly handsome all dressed in winter clothing. his regular denim jacket switched out for a dark woolen coat, his pants are unripped and, surprisingly, not smeared with dirt.

though what you like most about his winter attire is his hair. those wild golden locks are laid flat under a woolen beanie—a stark difference from the spiked updo he usually does (though you like that one too). the tips of his hair are slightly curled upwards, revealing that family trait of curly hair.

you creep closer, just watching him wait for you—the way he folds his arms in an attempt to warm up, and the little shuffle he does on his feet. you laugh softly, he must’ve been waiting a while—just like you have for him.

sam turns at the sound of your laugh, his body unconsciously tilting towards you, like a magnet’s uncontrollable attracting to metal. “you made it,” he breathes, his nose, ears and cheeks pinkened by the cold.

you nod, unable to stop a bashful smile from forming on your lips. “i made it.”

a big grin splits his face, mimicking yours. underneath the lone lamplight he looks jaw-droppingly handsome. you feel yourself become warm just in proximity to him.

“i wanted to talk to you in private,” he says. sam’s buzzing with energy, surveying the dark streets before meeting your gaze with his. “it’s kinda cold out here though… i, um—i can sneak you into my room…”

your heart skips a beat, like you’ve skipped a step on a staircase. “what?” you croak.

your eyes catch onto him wringing his fingers, a nervous habit you can’t help but always notice (not because his hands are nice and interesting to look at, not at all).

“you don’t wanna?”

“no!” you inhale, trying to alleviate the twisting sensation in your gut. “i do wanna, ahem, lead the way.”

sam smiles at you, dimples and all. he leads you towards the tiny bedroom window in front of his house. the window is already open—you assume that’s where he jumped out of to meet you.

he climbs through the window with minimal effort, landing on the flooring with a dull thump!

you raise a brow. “have you done this before?”

sam stretches his hand out to you, waiting. his smile turnt sheepish. “i mean, i think we were all rebellious teenagers once.”

you resist the urge to snort—sam’s nervous, you can tell. he doesn’t have his quips and jokes tonight. and he’s shy, but eager. like a puppy, excited and curious about the world.

“o-kay,” you say, one hand in his hand the other set firmly on the windowsill. “make sure i don’t fall please.”

sam nods, eagerly. the curled ends of his hair shake along with the motion as he does.

how endearing.

you tighten your grip on his hand, hauling yourself through the small window, trying your damn best to not make any sudden noise. which is successful for the most part, only a tiny huff of exertion escapes you.

annoying, yes. but the chill of winter burns through any energy you have faster than other seasons.

your feet connect with the wood of his floor, hand still clasped in his and the chill merely at your back. it’s warm inside, with him.

his room is the same as it’s always been when you’d visit before—shelves, band equipment, posters—but the ambiance is different. a little more charged with tension so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

sam does not bother turning on his light, you don’t mind it all that much. but it takes some effort to avoid tumbling over stray objects that clutter his bedroom floor.

“look, I know I’ve been about nothing but the band for a while now…” he starts. “but I don’t want you to think that’s all i’m interested in.”

you chuckle, clasping your fingers behind your back. “it certainly takes up a big chunk of your interests.”

he pouts, literally pouts. it must be the love bug you caught because you think it’s just plain adorable. “i’m really trying over here!”

“sorry!” you grin, “okay, continue.”

“well, um… shoot, this is kinda hard, huh?” he forces an awkward chuckle. “and nerve-wrecking… but what i’m trying to say is…”

“i’m really happy that we’ve grown this close, and well…” sam looks at you, he’s stupidly red—the color spreading all over his face. “i—i’m just wondering, do you think of me as… just a friend?”

your breath stutters, and you feel yourself blushing before you can do anything to stop it. you stare at him as he does with you. the two of you locking eyes for a second, it feels like it’s just you and him in the world.

you feel your shy admittance at the tip of your tongue. no, you’d say, you’re more than that for me, if you want to be.

sam smiles at you, shy but so, so overwhelmingly bright—it’s blinding. your head is running a mile a minute when you finally get the courage—

“sam!” you hear jodi’s groggy voice from outside the door. your stomach drops with dread. “somebody’s at the door! go and check please?”

you lock eyes once again, this time for entirely different reasons, and with entirely different feelings.

“oh my god, sam,” you whisper hurriedly, panic gripping you. “your mom doesn’t know i’m here—what do we do—”

“hold on—” he replies, with the same sense of urgency as you. “okay, okay—i have a plan, just trust me, ‘kay?”

you think you might break out into a cold sweat. you look at him quizzically, “what?”

sam gives you an apologetic smile with that stupid beautiful face of his, he moves forward, grabbing you by your wrists, and moving you with him—towards his bed.

“sam!” you hiss, alarms are blaring in every corner of your mind as sam all but drags you under the toasty covers of his bed. he lifts the blanket and stations you by the edge, covering you in the blanket—which is now a lumpy mess.

this is his childhood bed you’re in, where his mother and brother are just by the door.

and his mother is calling him.

“i’ll get this over with quick,” he says to you, already heading towards the door of his room. “hang on tight, ‘kay?”

you breathe a sound of agreement, way too jittery to formulate any proper response as you quieten under the covers.

though the sheets do feel nice, and smells overwhelmingly of that specific cologne he uses (stolen from joja inventory, he told you once). you will yourself not to relax and melt into the sheets so fast. instead, you listen for each and every sound that may give hint to whatever the hell is happening.

there’s a commotion that you can hear happening, the door swings open, the hinges creaking along with it—this whole surreal experience feels a little like the confrontation part of a horror movie, the helpless victim hiding and the heavy footfalls of the killer.

though in your case, it’s not one set of footsteps, but two.

“what are you two doing here?”

“you’re the one who called us over, remember?” you can recognize the band’s shut-in pianist’s voice from anywhere. “you were all like, stop skipping practice, seb.”

sam’s voice is oddly pitchy when he responds. “…well, tonight’s no good!”

you hear the other person huff, you strain your ears harder to listen. the huffing person clearly fed up with the strange behavior sam’s putting out right now.

“my mom and vincent are asleep,” he adds hurriedly. “they’d wake up—”

you resist the urge to groan, stifling your mouth under a sweaty palm. jodie was just speaking to him minutes ago, there’s no way they’d buy that. he cannot be a more obvious liar.

thankfully they gloss over the fact. “sam, why are you acting so damn weird?” sebastian asks, straightforward as ever.

“yeah,” the other voice adds. feminine but strong. which you now identify as abigail’s, you hear a pinch of impatience in her voice. “and why are you red? did you sit outside in the snow or something—”

sam chokes, which he tries to conceal as an odd sounding cough. abigail pauses mid-sentence. the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. you screw your eyes shut, hearing the rapid rate of your heartbeat. it’s so loud you’re almost convinced the trio can hear the thumping from your hiding spot under the sheets. this is it, they’re going to discover you.

“oh, oh i see,” abigail grins. “on second thought, i wouldn't risk catching all those germs. i’m feeling starved, let’s hit the saloon, seb.”

the aforementioned man grumbles, seemingly puzzled by the sudden switch in abigail’s attitude. “huh… why?” abigail must have whispered something to him—you can barely hear over the muffle of sam’s blanket comforters. “ugh, alright. fine. you owe us one, sam.”

“oh, of course! mhm, yup,” you cringe at the immense awkwardness of sam’s response, feeling the overwhelming urge to pull out your own hair. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? now shoo! wouldn’t wanna get you both sick or somethin’…”

“huh?” sebastian replies, rightfully puzzled as they’re forcefully pushed out of the room. “why would we see you tomorrow if you’re sick—”

“well seb,” abigail says smugly. “let’s just say sammy here is taking care of some important business—”

“okay, bye!” you hear the door click shut. to your utter bewilderment, sam shut the door in their faces.

the room is deathly quiet, the air is stagnant and stuffy. once you feel it safe enough, you crane your neck out of the blankets to check over him. to trace any lingering feeling the sudden visit might’ve given him. sam’s got his back rested against the wood of his door, his back slumped.

“i—i wasn’t expecting that,” you say quietly from your hiding spot on his bed. peeking the top half of your face, watching the door carefully. “kinda nerve-wracking.”

and embarrassing.

“i know—i’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “i didn’t expect them coming over.”

“sebastian said you invited them for practice, though.” you point out.

“maybe i did,” he admits, creeping closer to you on the bed, even if he’s guilty and embarrassed. “i totally forgot—i mean, i was really nervous! my mind blanks when i get nervous…”

sam stops right by the side of the bed, as if he’s waiting for your permission to get in with you—in his own bed. and to be perfectly honest, you really want him to.

“kinda ruined the atmosphere too,” he looks away from you, eyes downcast and melancholy. “i had this whole thing planned too, and i, just… ugh…”

your eyes soften. “sam, it’s really fine. okay, maybe a little shocking but you know it’s not enough to scare me away.”

he looks down at you, worried. his eyebrows are ever so slightly pinched—you wish you could run your fingers over it, and smooth it out yourself.

“plus,” you murmur, reaching over the small amount of space between the two of you to clasp his wrist. “i’m not just gonna leave… just tell me what you were going to say—before the… interruption.”

that gives you the final push to gather your courage to tug him into bed with you. sam follows, flopping onto the empty bedding next to you without a fight. for a moment, it’s just the two of you, side by side, slowly huddling closer and closer for warmth.

and sam is warm. he’s practically radiating comfy heat you wish to burrow into—or wrap yourself around. the perfect bed-partner for winter nights like these.

you find yourself becoming addicted to the feeling.

sam angles his body towards you. you on your back and him on his side, it feels intimate and special. and for some reason, it feels familiar—like you’ve always belonged by his side.

“i think you know already,” he tells you, his eyes are not clear in the dim light but you know, there are practically hearts in them. “that i like you.”

you giggle softly. “and i think you know the same about me.”

sam tentatively grasps your hand, the freezing fingertips thawing under his careful touch. the caress of his hand on yours sends tingling electricity down your spine, your whole body feels alert—alive.

he speaks again, but this time his tone is a whisper of what it usually is. “stay awhile?”

“yeah,” you swallow, squeezing his hand in your grip. a small smile on your lips. “yes, i want to.”

“good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the edges so softly and the dimples on his cheeks deepen. there really is no one else who can compare for you. “hey, you’re really cold… let me warm you up?”

you turn to your side, facing him. at this angle, your faces are mere inches apart. you can trace every dip, line and curve of his face, and he yours. your hand tingles with the overwhelming urge to reach for him and squeeze.

“it is cold,” you agree. “i’d very much like that.”

“phew,” he softly sighs. sam drags his fingers up your arm, stopping at your elbow. wherever he touches, a whisper of him lingers on your skin—a bone deep imprint you yearn for him to spread all across your skin.

you roll into him with little to no effort at all. sam drags you to his chest, your ear perched right above his heart, you can hear the steady thump! of his heartbeat from underneath. sam winds his arms around you, intensifying the heat you feel by tenfold—it’s not uncomfortable at all, though. you like it.

your bodies fit perfectly together, just like puzzle pieces. a mess of limbs tangling together. the warmth of him making you shudder in honey-like delight. it feels syrupy and soft and warm wrapped in his arms.

his hand at your back travels downwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake you feel even through the thickness of the fabric separating the skin of your back and his fingertips. his hands feel rough and calloused at the small of your back—from playing guitar and his skateboarding incidents—but you enjoy the feeling.

you trail your fingers under the thick fabric of his jacket and shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath—the action has no deeper meaning than you wanting to feel.

sam’s uncharacteristically quiet. his breaths are slow and long, like he’s on the verge of sleep. yet his arms are wound tight around you—like he never wants to let go of you. your nerves make you feel like a slow simmering soup. warm and slowly cooking over the fire.

you two stay entangled for a while, in comfortable silence. sometime during the night you’ve matched your breathing to his, and he pulled you somehow even closer to his body.

but, a thump comes from his window, a light tapping sound. soft but persistent. the two of you opt to ignore it, in favor of snuggling closer to each other. yet the taps continue, and become louder and faster.

disrupted by the noise, sam mournfully throws the covers from over him to check, untangling himself from your grip. leaving a very him-shaped indent on the bed left in his wake. you groan, sticking your bottom lip out, you miss the warmth of him already.

“oh shit.”

the expletive makes you sit up in his bed, the comforter draping off your middle. you can make out the shape of him even with the dimness of the light—sam’s back is towards you, and if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks like he’s shrinking into himself a tiny bit.

“what is it?” you whisper-shout to him.

he slowly turns to you, wide eyed, his shoulders stiff. sort of resembling a kicked-dog. sam bows down his head—with what you think is shame, for what reason, you can’t tell. rubbing your eyes of sleep, you furrow your brow, craning your neck to look out the window behind him.

abigail and sebastian are there, waving wildly at you. your eyes widen. abigail and sebastian are waving at you with smug smiles plastered on their faces.

your stomach drops for the umpteenth time that night. you honestly feel too horrified to speak.

you bury yourself under the sheets, a feeble attempt to conceal your mortification. so that’s why abigail was playing along with sam’s urgent ramblings—she knew (not that sam was any good at keeping a cool facade, he is totally incapable of lying smoothly). you groan, you feel like a rebellious teenager again, only the part where you get caught and utterly humiliated.

outside, you can hear the loud roaring laughter of the duo through the glass, alongside the awkward, embarrassed chatter of your newly-minted boyfriend. (not technically official, but the title succeeds to relieve your horror by the tiniest bit)

still, you stay put. through the mortification and embarrassment you still stick yourself to sam’s side, or more literally, on his bed—because you know, there’s no other place you’d rather be.

you spare another glance out of the covers at the trio—to your surprise, sam’s beat you to it. looking at you with heart eyes and the most lovesick expression (you’re pretty sure yours looks the same).

you know there’s going to be a lot more explaining to do in the morning. but it doesn’t matter to you, not right now when you’re in sam’s bed on the verge of sleep.

not when you feel so warm.

a/n: shoutout to the ass trio for making an appearance in the fic! i love you abby and seb.

i like to think that ppl come to farmer for comfort or jst to genuinely hangout... requesting sam coming to farmer's house in the middle of the night as he confides in them w hot chocolate / coffee / tea 👉🏻👈🏻

apple cider

pairing: sam x reader

wc: 1.6k

tags: MILD hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, they are friends here!!

synopsis: sticky summer nights always make you feel a little restless.

a/n: its been 2 months with no sam fic!!!! here is my sincere apology hehe. title from apple cider by beabadoobee. this ask is so cute anon mwa mwa

Nothing ever truly rests during the summer; not even during the night.

Fireflies flicker and fly, weaving through the sparse grass beds sprouting from under your porch. The dark is hardly dark, your eyes have adjusted to the sparse light emanating from your dingy porch light. Your cardigan is haphazardly thrown off, draped over the hand-carved trellis. Bare feet meet the grass; damp and cool against your heated skin.

Energy thrums through the air, electrifying it with the undercutting buzz that leaves you wide awake. The season leaves the nights tepid, leaving your skin sticky. 

You can’t sleep; not one bit tuckered out after a whole day toiling the fields. Though your mind is blissfully blank, your hands are preoccupied with bringing your mug to your lips.

The cacophony of crickets chirping echo through the flat farmlands of your property. It’s quiet, peaceful. Yet you are wide-eyed and awake, sipping on  herbal tea—a mixture of herbs from your crop beds—in the hopes you can knock yourself out. 

You are hyper aware of your surroundings, unable to pull yourself into the sleepy state you want. You feel the sheen of sweat drying on your skin, the warm summer breeze tickling the nape of your neck, the sweet smell of almost-ripe melons growing on your farm. The rhythmic sound of trees swaying with the wind.

The odd sound of a twig snapping is enough to pull you out of your reverie. 

Your gaze snaps to the side, past your mailbox and to the dark path leading to town. Eyes adjusted to the dark, you see vague impressions of familiar surroundings. You drag your eyes to and fro, scanning.

A head of blond hair flashes through the otherwise dark veil of night, lamplight catching the brilliant golden hues of it. Doubting your eyes you furrow your brow; squinting your eyes, shifting on the porch steps, aiming to get a clearer look. Your mug is forgotten on your lap.

The figure shifts, tilting their head upwards and towards your direction. Then blue eyes lock with yours, the warm light of your porch lantern illuminating his expression. Recognition dawns on your face—

“Sam?”

Sam stops mid-step, face contorting into shock that outdoes your own. He flails, struggling with his words as to why in the world he’s caught on your farm in the wee hours of the night.

Both of you freeze, staring at each other in silence. Your fingers tighten then loosen around your mug. A tight line is made out of your lips.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“It’s not what you think!” he holds his hands up in immediate surrender. “I was walking, and—and, my mind was blank. I just followed the path, I swear.”

You blink, once then twice. “Sam—”

“And–and,” he blabbers, “I guess… your farm was the best bet… The safest.”

That eases the nervous pitter-patter of your heart. It’s rare you get anyone on the farm aside from Lewis this late. You’re relieved, perplexed by his skittish behavior. It goes against what you already know about him. 

Your eyes crinkle whilst you squint up at him, giving him a once-over. Like this, he reminds you of a teenager caught red-handed, eyes practically bulging out of his head with anxiousness.

An amused chuckle slips past your lips before you register it, smiling. “Sam. Can I speak?”

Sam turns back to face you, finally still. It gives you a clearer look at his appearance. Wild flaxen locks are tapered down by the beanie shoved over his head. His shirt is inside out, hanging awkwardly on his frame. He looks like he just rolled out of bed. 

“Oh—oh yeah… my bad.”

A hand goes to pick back up your mug. “You’re good.” You take a sip of your tea. “Plus, I’m not bothered.”

“Oh…” Relief lets his shoulders go lax with a puffed breath. Then he looks back at you, conflicted on his face. “Hang on...You think me walking into your private property is—nothing?”

You snort. “You’re the last person I’d think would be worried about that.”

Sam paces, rocking back and forth on his heels, sporting a grim frown on his face. His gaze drops back down to the path, kicking at the pebbles. You wince internally; he doesn’t seem in good enough shape for jokes. It tugs at your heartstrings, a deep sigh pulled from your mouth and out into the humid air.

“Kidding. But it’s really no biggie.” you wave off. “Come by whenever. I’m always restless during the summer.”

He stares, breathing uneven and nervous. “Seriously?”

You nod, unusually calm in the face of his supposed trespassing. “It’s a me problem. It’s too humid to sleep comfortably. I even get more tired once I wake—”

“No, I mean,” he interjects, eyes wide. “I can come over? Anytime?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, rolling the muscles in your shoulders. “I’d love your company.”

“But what if you’re busy?”

“You’ll have to help me in the fields, then.” you tease, eyes crinkling. “You’ve got good legs for it already.”

A grin cuts through the grim lines of his face, “Are you 100% sure?”

You nod, eagerly. “Mhm.”

“Ah,” he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “That’s good. Super good. I wanted… well, I was kinda hoping to see you too.”

“Well now you’ve seen me.”

“Yeah, I’m glad. But ugh—I dunno, I guess my head’s a little messed up right now.” He runs a hand over his face, a frustrated groan along with it. 

You watch him. There is never a part of him that keeps still, even now. 

Maybe that’s why the words seem to come out so naturally when you’re with Sam. The restlessness—always grasping, bouncing, and shifting. “D’ya wanna come inside? Maybe it could help.”

“Yes, yeah. I want to.” he replies, instantly but then he double takes, checking in with you. “Can I?”

“I invited you too,” you laugh, pulling yourself up. “Calm down Sam, you’re fine.”

“Come in,” you call, pushing open your door. You do not turn and wait for him, traveling through the dark with the familiarity one has only in their own home. 

You hear him pulling off his shoes by the doorway, then the padding of his feet trailing after yours.

Humming, you switch on your lamplight, propping it up on your kitchen table, pulling the chair back for Sam to sit in. You set your mug down on the opposite side.

The cabinet creaks when you swing it open, revealing your countless containers of seasonings and spices collected over the seasons. The rich smell of all of it mingling together wafts through your nose. 

A pack of apple cider bottles stands by the cinnamon sticks, a welcome gift from months ago you haven’t gotten into yet. 

You tilt your head back to glance at him, finding him sitting statue-still in your chair, then turn back to your cabinet.

“I have some apple cider, you want some?”

His eyes snap to yours, “Oh, yeah.”

Nodding, you tiptoe, grasping the glass bottle by the neck from the far end of the cabinet. 

You sit the bottle down on the counter, popping off the cap with the flat edge of a knife. The cider fizzes, bubbling up until the neck then reducing. The sharp fruity scent of carbonation and apple mingles with the humid air. Sam takes it from your outstretched hand with a murmured ‘thanks’.

You sit opposite him. With your legs pulled up to your chest, you wiggle in your seat, leaning your cheek against your knees. Your eyes low as you cradle your own drink in your hands. Sam takes slow sips of the cider, the bubbles painting the edges of his lips then fizzing away. 

It feels natural to watch him like this, like all normal neighborly decorum has flown out the window, making room for this—whatever this silent companionship may bring. 

Curious, you break the veil of silence. “So what brings you here?”

Sam runs his tongue over his bottom lip, catching the stray drop of apple cider by the corner. His gaze goes faraway, eyebrows furrowing automatically without him aware. He’s silent as he thinks over your question, face contorting.

“Just—something at home, I guess. I wanted a breather.”

You swirl the string of your teabag, looking up from under your lashes. “Family stuff?”

“...Yeah, family stuff.”

You hum, voice low. You have a faint idea on what he’s talking about. Sam’s father, Kent, has been having a difficult time adjusting back to civilian life after being discharged—you heard. 

Your eyes track over his form, his shoulder hunched and lower than you’ve ever seen them. Under the low light of your kitchen table, you pinpoint the signs of weariness marking his face—eye bags under his eyes and a perpetual wrinkle in his brow deep enough you see the shadow of it under his mess of hair. 

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t feel like it,” you simply say. 

You look out the windows, eyes tracking the swirling the flickering lights of lightning bugs outside. Gaze low as you stew in silence. Your fingers tap idly at the table. You feel calmer, sleepier. That persistent buzzing under your skin dissipating into the boneless way you sit. 

There will be more sticky summer nights like these, you’re sure. Maybe he’ll share what’s on his mind then but right now, you’re quite content with the silence. It cradles you like a refreshingly cool gust of air, tapering the heated expanse of your skin. 

“Maybe next time,” Sam murmurs, staring into the steaming cup. “When I come over again.”

A smile unfurls on your lips when he raises his head to look at you. “When you come over again.”