#*sam blurbs

you didn’t specify from which list but bc i’m a nice bitch, i’ll give you all three! 

angst: 

#3 “Why are you awake right now?” it’s not that angsty tho

it was a simple question, really, but it was one you didn’t know how to answer. you knew sam didn’t mean it as an accusation. frankly, it was rather the quite opposite; he was worried about you. you could tell immediately by his voice. you had known him long enough to identify the various tones within his voice when he was expressing certain emotions. 

“i don’t know,” you admitted, tugging a piece of hair out of your already messy bun while readjusting the phone propped between your ear and shoulder. 

“you need to get some sleep, love. you’ve had an awful lot of late nights lately.” 

you nodded, temporarily forgetting he couldn’t see you. the bedside table lamp was eliciting a dim light throughout your bedroom, seeming feeble compared to the bright light of your laptop screen. you fixed your gaze on the paused image of the youtube video you had been watching when sam had called. 

“why are you awake?” you countered, nibbling on your bottom lip. 

“we were all hanging out ‘cause tom leaves tomorrow. that’s beside the point though and you know it. stop switching the subject.” 

“just a lot on my mind, i suppose. can’t fall asleep.” 

“how about i come over and help you relax, yeah? i don’t like you losing this much sleep. ‘s not healthy,” sam suggested and you could tell by the rustling in the background that he was already getting ready. 

his comment might have seemed highly suggestive to some, but you knew he meant nothing by it, despite how much you wanted him to. little did he know that he was the reason you were losing sleep in the first place. 

“sure. thank you, sammy,” you whispered, his nickname slipping from your lips before you could stop it. 

“‘kay. be there in a few.”

fluff:

#3 “Have you seen my hoodie?” “Nooo.” “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

you were sitting on the sofa, huddled underneath the softest blanket in the apartment while trying to hide from the rain outside. it was pattering loudly against the windows, almost overpowering the sound of the movie playing on the tv in front of you. england was great - you loved it, really - but the summers could be quite terrible and this seemed to be no exception. 

“love?” 

“yeah?” you called back immediately, lowering the volume of the comedy film. 

“have you seen my hoodie?” 

sam’s question was one that was repeated quite often. more often than not, you were the reason all of his comfortable clothes seemed to go missing. if it wasn’t one of his t-shirts, it was his sweats. and if it wasn’t his sweats, it was definitely a hoodie or a flannel. it was a cycle neither of you saw stopping anytime soon. 

“nooo,” you dragged out innocently. the lie wasn’t necessary because you were fully aware that he already knew the answer. 

“you’re wearing it, aren’t you?” his voice was a lot closer now and you turned your head to look at him, an amused grin playing on his lips.

“maybe?” 

his grin widened. “well, the tickle monster would like his hoodie back. so, what d’ya say? do you surrender?”

you only shrugged, sending him the most innocent look you could muster. your tight-lipped teasing smile was quickly interrupted as your boyfriend charged forward, leaping onto the sofa where you were currently seated. his fingers instantly finding their way to your sides, his hoodie defenseless against his notorious tickles. you squealed loudly, helplessly squirming underneath him and all sam could do was smile, hopelessly in love with the way you looked in his clothes, but more importantly; hopelessly in love with you. 

misc:

#3 “I think I just ripped my pants.”

“i think i just ripped my pants.”

the sheepish announcement falling from sam’s mouth was all you needed to fall into a hysteric fit of giggles. your chest was heaving, your lungs desperate for air, but your unstoppable laughter making it impossible. sam brushed his hair out of his face, his brows furrowed with disappointment that you were too busy laughing at him to come to his aid. his twin brother stepped outside into the backyard, the youngest holland in tow, which only fueled your laughter. 

“what’s going on?” paddy asked, a grin already forming on his face. 

“sam- he- i,” you breathed, desperately trying to gather yourself enough to explain. you tried again, “h-he ripped his pants!” 

“babe,” sam whined immediately, shooting you a look of disapproval. 

“fucking hell, mate,” harry chuckled, smacking the back of his brother’s head. “how’d you manage that?” 

it had been quite an impulse move, to be honest. the two of you were talking about your time in school and how you used to be fairly flexible with a few years of gymnastics under your belt. sam had immediately announced that he knew how to do the splits, which you had, in return, dared him to do. the holland boys never shied away from a dare and you knew sam would be no different. 

“i was trying to show y/n that i could do the splits.” 

“you can’t do the splits.” 

harry and paddy declared simultaneously, sending you into yet another round of laughter. the three hollands soon joined in and sam shimmied out of his ruined pair of black jeans, tossing them at you with a smirk dancing across his lips. in response to your confused stare, he said, 

“a souvenir for the lovely lady.”