josssam headcanons. (part two)
❝ i thought we had a connection 𓈒 𓈒 ❞ sam giddings + josh washington this is part 2 of jossam headcannons, enjoy! x
josh pretending he’s not listening to sam’s ramblings, but he could recite every word back to her—her voice has become his favorite sound.
late-night confessions over text, josh sending her random deep thoughts at 3 am because sam is the only one he trusts with the parts of himself that he hides from everyone else.
falling asleep on the phone together, neither wanting to hang up first, so they just listen to each other breathing until they drift off, a silent comfort in the connection.
rainy days spent together indoors, sam curled up with a book and josh quietly sketching in the corner—neither of them needing to speak, the silence filled with unspoken understanding.
late-night gaming sessions where josh lets sam win (but never admits it), just to see the way her face lights up in victory.
josh calling sam his “wolf in sheep’s clothing” because she’s sweet on the outside but tougher than anyone realizes, and that strength is what draws him to her.
josh doodling on sam’s notebooks during class, little sketches of things that remind him of her—stars, wolves, and her favorite flowers.
autumn walks in oversized coats, sam tucked into josh’s side, their breath visible in the crisp air, but the warmth between them enough to keep the chill away.
josh never really liked rom-coms. he'd grumble and complain every time sam picked one, claiming he was more of a horror guy. but deep down, he always caved. he’d sit beside her, arms crossed at first, but slowly he’d relax, sneaking glances at her instead of the screen, watching the way her eyes lit up during her favorite scenes. and even though he pretended not to care, he secretly took mental notes of every movie she loved. later, when she wasn’t around, he’d rewatch them alone—just so he could memorize the parts that made her laugh or the moments that made her smile. it wasn’t about the movies for him; it was about knowing her better.
josh writing unsent letters to sam, pouring out all the things he’s too afraid to say out loud—how she makes him feel grounded in a way no one else can.
coffee shop hangouts, where sam orders something sweet and josh sticks to his bitter brew, always stealing a taste of hers just to make her roll her eyes at him.
camping trips where josh insists on building the fire, even though sam teases him that he’s “a city boy”—he just likes the way she laughs when she catches him struggling.
josh making playlists for sam but never sending them, just listening to the songs that remind him of her on repeat, wondering if she would feel the same if she knew.
josh and sam dancing in the living room was a rare sight. sam wasn’t much of a dancer, but when josh got a little too drunk, it was one of his favorite things to do. he’d stumble toward her, that familiar playful grin on his face, and pull her up from the couch. she’d protest at first, laughing, but she never resisted for long. josh would wrap his arms around her, moving clumsily but with surprising grace, using the slow dancing skills he’d picked up from his sister’s birthday parties. sam would rest her head against his chest, swaying gently to whatever song was playing, not caring about the missed steps or how offbeat they were. in those moments, it didn’t matter—he held her like she was the most important thing in his world, and somehow, despite her awkwardness, it always felt perfect.
josh confiding in sam about his darkest fears, trusting her with the pieces of himself he doesn’t show anyone else, her reassuring presence grounding him when he feels like he’s losing control.
sometimes, josh quietly feared that one day, sam would find someone better. he did everything he could to keep her close, always going the extra mile, because in his eyes, she belonged with him. he couldn’t imagine her with anyone else—she was his world, and he hoped, with every part of him, that he was hers too
