⟡ 𓂃 ࣪˖ CRASH LANDING — Sam Monroe x reader.
SUMMARY: An unexpected knock at your window. A boy with too many feelings. A bed with only enough room for one... or maybe two.
A/N: we as a society need more sam monroe fics🙏 this was also posted on AO3 ! will be posting the work rotting in my notes — reblogs appreciated<3
WARNINGS: angst if you squint, gender neutral reader, mentions of smoking, mostly fluff, one bed trope (kind of), quiet intimacy
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He didn’t plan to end up there, not really. Not with the way he’s been avoiding everyone, everything, slipping into the silence as if it was easier rather than saying how he really felt.
So, without making too much noise, Sam managed to sneak out through the garage, wearing one of his old hoodies as a disguise.
Usually, he’d sneak out to go smoke, it felt refreshing to do so, despite it giving the total opposite effect, at least he could get away from his worries, at least for a little bit.
But not this time. His feet, as if they had a mind of their own, carried him two buildings over, a certain window catching his attention.
It was yours.
You haven’t talked before. Not really. A few glances. A second too long in the hallway. Maybe once you held the elevator for him without saying anything.
And yet, it still felt right being there, almost making him feel closer to you in a way. But it wasn’t enough, Sam really wanted — needed to see you this early in the morning.
The ledge beneath your window wasn’t wide, barely more than a narrow slab of concrete jutting out from the brick, but it was enough.
Enough for a quick climb, a risky pull-up off the alley dumpster, and a shove of his boot against the drainpipe to boost himself up. He didn’t think much - just moved, like his body knew where it was going before his brain could catch up.
By the time he reached your window, his knuckles were scraped and his breath unsteady.
He leaned against the glass, chest heaving, and tapped. Once. Then twice more.
You weren’t awake. Not yet. But he waited, hoodie pulled low, gaze flicking down at the quiet street below, hoping you’d hear him.
Hoping you’d let him in.
With a gentle groan, you stirred awake, strange noises of knocking on glass awakening your peaceful sleep.
Fully convinced you were just imagining things, the moment you sat up straight, your eyes widened, your expression mortified. Nothing could prepare you for seeing a figure against your window.
Sam, immediately noticing your initial panic and how you were just about to scream, quickly slid his hood off, revealing himself to you.
Your chest rose and fell in quick bursts, heart racing from the sudden jolt of surprise. Taking a few steps closer to the window, you slid it open in one swift motion.
“What are you doing here?” Your voice was merely a whisper, but your tone indicating that you weren’t pleased with Sam scaring you half to death.
A soft tsk slipped from his tongue, barely audible. Without giving you much of a chance to ask him any further questions, he slipped into your room, moving past you like he belonged there.
His hoodie was damp from the night air, eyes shadowed yet unreadable, and he avoided your gaze as he mumbled, “Didn’t feel like being alone.”
You blinked, still trying to process the surrealness of it all — Sam Monroe, in your room, uninvited and unapologetic. But something in his expression, the weight in his posture, made you hesitate.
His unexpected appearance definitely made you question what exactly his motives were, this early. The quiet of the early morning, when the darkness hadn’t yet faded, and the air still felt thick with the remnants of night.
“You mind if I crash here?” Sam suddenly questioned, turning his gaze towards you. As he practically towered over you, this was the perfect opportunity to take in his appearance.
His dark hair, mixed with blue highlights was quite messy. His piercing, blue eyes adorned with smudged, black eyeliner. Most likely slept in. His lips were slightly parted, as if the question had barely left his mind before he said it, and his posture was relaxed, yet there was an unmistakable tension beneath the surface, like he was bracing for some kind of response, but not sure what kind.
His worn hoodie hung loosely on his frame, the fabric wrinkled from him probably just throwing it on. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke still lingered in his clothes, but there was something else, too - something more like the faint traces of whatever had driven him to your window in the first place.
You couldn’t quite place it, but it was enough to make your heart beat faster.
“Sam, my parents can’t know you’re here,” you said, your voice shaky, the weight of the situation hitting you more now that you had a moment to process it. Trailing off, you broke eye contact for just a moment, gathering your thoughts, but your gaze instinctively flicked back to him, searching for some kind of reassurance - or maybe a hint of regret.
“Besides, I’ve only got one bed?” you added, your voice trailing off as you realized how awkward the situation was becoming. There was a nervous energy in your words, but also something else. Was it a subtle invitation, or just a way to keep things light, keep them from spiraling into something more serious?
Sam’s gaze lingered on you, but his lips quirked up slightly, a small, half-hearted smirk that only made your heart race even more.
“I’ll just sleep on the floor, it’s nothing,” His tone was laced with amusement, almost as if he knew what was bound to come.
With a defeated sigh, you both locked eyes once more before finally giving in, the good from your heart taking over. “No, look, we can share,”
You swore you could faintly see Sam’s eye light up, fighting off the subtle smirk that was tugging at the corners of his lips, his labret piercing gently shining from the moonlight.
Sure, your bed was big enough to have two people inside at once, but you’ve never shared a bed with a boy, let alone a cute one at that.
Suddenly regretting your choice of choosing a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt to sleep in, you stepped away from Sam and made yourself comfortable, the heavy blanket warming you up in an instant.
Sam simply glanced at you before his fingers traced over the hem of his hoodie, casually tugging it up. His movements were slow, almost deliberate, as if he didn’t even notice the way you were eyeing him.
With one swift motion, the hoodie was off, leaving him bare-chested, completely unaware of how his casual gesture had thrown you off.
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden exposure. Did he really just do that?
“Move over,” Sam suddenly spoke up, glancing at you, referencing the way you were sat in the middle of your bed.
Without a second thought, you scooted over to make room for him.
Bossy, much, you thought to yourself. You glanced at him quickly, still trying to process the sudden shift in atmosphere. His gaze flickered to you, but his expression was unreadable.
With a soft grunt, he plopped down beside you, stretching his legs out in front of him. The bed creaked slightly under his weight, but he didn’t seem to care, letting his body slump into the mattress as if he belonged there.
You stiffened slightly, the proximity enough to make your heartbeat pick up speed.
“You’re really just gonna crash here?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the slight tension in your voice gave it away.
Sam just shrugged, leaning back against the headboard as if he was at home.
“What’s the big deal?” he replied casually, his voice dripping with that same easy confidence you’d come to expect from him.
You weren’t sure if he was oblivious or just didn’t care, but the lack of personal space suddenly felt suffocating. Still, you couldn’t help the way your stomach fluttered with the unspoken tension that now lingered between the two of you.
“Right, well, I’m going to sleep,” Giving him one final glance, you turned around so that your back was facing Sam, making yourself comfortable.
He mirrored your actions shortly after, the both of you attempting to fall asleep, which was sort of difficult.
After some time has passed, Sam still couldn’t get himself to be overtaken by sleep. His thoughts were clouded by you.
His moves were hesitant, as if he was afraid he’d wake you up by a mere shift, he tried his best to not let that happen.
Sam quietly turned around, being met with your back faced against him. He observed the way your chest would slowly rise up, being fairly obvious you were out like a light.
Something urged him to just, pull you closer. Like a nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he tried. It twisted in his chest - restless, unspoken.
Maybe it was the way you looked so peaceful, or the warmth radiating from you that made the night feel a little less cold.
He hovered for a moment, torn between instinct and reason.
But before he could overthink it, his hand moved on its own, fingers ghosting over the edge of the blanket that separated you two, as if testing the space before gently inching closer.
Just enough for your shoulder to brush against his chest.
Still, he said nothing. Just closed his eyes, pretending this closeness didn’t make his heart race in a way that felt all too unfamiliar.
Still, he said nothing. Just closed his eyes, pretending this closeness didn’t make his heart race in a way that felt all too unfamiliar.
For someone who spent most nights avoiding connection - pushing people away before they got too close, this moment felt dangerously intimate. Like maybe if he let his guard down even a little more, you’d see past the eyeliner and cigarette breath and realize how broken he really was.
But you didn’t stir. You didn’t flinch or shift or turn away. And somehow, that made him stay.
His breath steadied, syncing with yours, a quiet rhythm in the dark. He didn’t mean to stay the night. Hell, he didn’t even mean to show up in the first place. But now, with the room filled only with the soft hum of the early morning and the scent of your shampoo faint in the air, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
And maybe, just maybe, he hoped you'd feel that too when you woke up.
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