Haley Is And Always Will Be My Fav Bachelorette Of SDV, What Can I Say?

Uh, anyway, Shane is actually besties with Sam (he'd rather die than admit it though) and they constantly do things to spite Joja and Sam can actually get a good reaction from Shane with some of his jokes. Sam and him were kind of awkward at first, but after a while Sam saw him at the saloon one day and went "HEY!! MY BUDDY SHANE!! COME PLAY POOL WITH US!!" so loudly across the building that everyone turned to stare and Shane almost sped-walked out of the place out of embarrassment (he def stayed and played pool but kept his head down to avoid stares).

Sam constantly talks about funny things Shane does and Abigail and Sebastian are like, "??? The quiet, grumpy town drunk??" But after Sam dragged Shane into so many pool games, Shane loosened up and started a tournament with the old arcade games between the four of them (he kicks everyone's asses at it) and now Seb and Abbi are starting to get it.

There's a competition between him and Sam on who can steal the largest item at Joja without getting caught (Shane has the lead with the pizza he gave farmer)

After Shane stops drinking, Sam is adamant on getting Shane to like joja-cola with him (he's not winning, unfortunately)

One time, Sam bet Shane that he could drink a 12-pack of Joja-cola during one break at work and threw up everywhere from the crazy amount of carbination it has (Even though Shane cried actual tears from laughter, Sam still owed him a pizza because Morris made Shane clean it 😭)

Shane will leave Sam maple bars in his work locker when Sam is having a hard time with his family and denies that it was him (Sam knows) His excuse when caught is that he and Jaz prefer the other donuts in the pack

Shane SUCKS at comforting others, but Sam appreciates the awkward conversation because it just means his buddy is trying to be a good friend.

They both run a secret page that basically makes fun of Morris by posting bad photos or just making a meme out of him

Uh, yeah, anyway. Sam and Shane are besties

i bet stardew valley green rain tastes like the vegetable smoothies fitness influencers make

your haley fic has me in a chokehold, I hope you write more soon omg.

let l me marry your writing please… i beg

AWWWW!!! thank you 😭😭❤️❤️

haley is my #1 girl and through that fic i discovered how much i really liked her lol!

as for writing more, ik ive been in kinda a slump recently but i have this wip that i feel is reallllyyyy promising (with haley too!!)

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.”

feeling something rn. sam loves antiquing. and thrifting. he’s a little bit of a hoarder. he loves anything vintage and from the past. his jacket is covered in old and obscure buttons - think “grampleton credit union 1986” or “zuzu city women’s bowling league 2001.” he holds your hand as he drags you through the antique store, picking up little trinkets and signs, yaps about how someday when you and him are married you guys will decorate your home like with things like that, and like the lovesick hopeless romantic you are you eat it all up. sam that collects vintage playboys, old rolling stone magazines. obscure records he finds in thrift stores. sam that loves these things because they remind him of a kid at his grandparents house. sam that is just a complete dork about these things.

sophia icon :-]

HALEY

fics

super graphic ultra-modern girl like me! (suggestive; 2k words) (FEM!reader)

what was supposed to be a 15 minute to-and-from errand has gone out control and morphed into some how-to farming class, and honestly sam doesn’t mind at all. he wasn’t planning on staying long, really.

but you’re kind and patient, directing him where to scoop mulch and pack it tight. his attention has never been a stationary thing, everything about your farm (and you) is captivating and new and interesting.

wiping the swear dripping down his temple, sam watches you prune your melons. the rhythmic motion of your wrists as you take gardening shears to unruly buds and leaves feels like a formation of a melody in real time.

surely this is why he came over to your farm, to watch you make music with the sway and jerk of your limbs as you tend to crops or how easy you make conversation… and if there was something he was supposed to come for, he bets your beaming smile and singing crops will welcome him again tomorrow.

Sam who gets sent by his mom to go and pick up some produce from the farm while she brings Vincent for a check-up but ends up getting distracted by the farmer themselves

to celebrate the birth of my blog im posting all my ao3 fics here

sam is literally the type of dad to use the vacuum hack to tie his kid’s hair