#all of sammy's firsts belong to him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jazzyoranges · 8 months ago

Note

Sam carpenter x reader with the song birds of a feather by Billie eilish maybe friends to lovers

Birds of a Feather

Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: you and Sam are best friends. until you aren’t

Words: 8k

A/n: ok we kinda went off script with this one but i’d describe this as friends to lovers with a few bumps. is friends to not friends to lovers a trope?

A/n 2: i have something to confess. i’ve never seen scream 5. that might be very evident in this

Warnings: intoxication, usage of drugs, Richie Kirsch, Sam deals with some hard shit, crying, ghostface aftermath, not a warning but Tara is a cutie, mention of a dead parent, maybe ooc sam cause i’ve never written for her and probably should’ve made a less lengthy fic so i could get a feel for her character but wtv 🤷‍♀️

“Hey- What the heck! What was that for, Sam!?” The young boy yells when Sam pushes him off the swing

“You jerk broke my friend’s crayons. She really liked them!” Sam points a finger at the boy, who’s now dusting himself off

“Yeah? What’re you going to do about it?” He smiles a wicked grin. At least, what would be considered wicked in kindergarten

“I’ll never let you on the swings again!”

“I don’t see your name written on it!”

“That’s cause you’re stupid and can’t read!”

Tears well up in the young boys eyes. He blinks them away, running to tell on the teacher him and Sam share. Sam didn’t care, he deserved the insults anyways

“Sammy? What did you do to Carlos?” You run up to Sam, who’s glaring at the back of Carlos’ head from her seat on the swing

“I pushed him. He broke the crayons your dad gave you!” The Carpenter pulls you into a hug, not wanting to let go

“I know he did Sammy, but it’s not nice to push people” You reciprocate the hug, pulling back a bit to see Sam’s face and how her forehead was wrinkled with her eyebrows furrowed. You thought she was cute like one of your stuffed animals

“It’s not nice to break something that doesn’t belong to you! I did it because he was mean to you”

“You’re going to get in trouble! Mrs. Poppy doesn’t know you were trying to protect me”

“Then I’ll tell her, and Carlos will get in trouble too”

“Samantha Carpenter.” Your teacher’s voice was stern. Nothing like the sweet teacher you were used to. You backed away from Sam’s hug but you don’t go far. You hold her tiny hand with your own and make sure to stay close, rubbing her hand in hopes of comfort

“Is it true you pushed Carlos off the swings and said some mean things?”

“Yeah, but he was being mean to (Y/n) first! He broke her new crayons her dad got her! Mrs. Poppy, (Y/n) was really sad” Your dad couldn’t get you many new things due to being a single father. Especially new school supplies. Usually you’d reuse the crayons you didn’t lose or break from previous years or borrow some of Sam’s

On most days you took the bus home with Sam while your dad was off working his ass off to get you dinner every night. Your dad and Sam’s dad were good friends so Mr and Mrs. Carpenter didn’t mind taking care of you until your dad was able to pick you up from their house. Luckily you two lived in the same neighborhood. Some days you thought all of the stars aligned for you and Sam to be friends

“Is this true?” Your teacher shoots a look at the boy next to her. While your teacher was the nicest woman you ever met, she had a deadly glare. You were happy you weren’t on the receiving end of that stare

“N-No…”

“Carlos if I find out you’re lying, you’re going to be sharing the same punishment as Sam.” Mrs. Poppy seems to calm down a bit, entering her nice teacher mode once again

“F-Fine! I did break her crayons” Carlos pouts, crossing his arms

“Thank you for telling the truth, but what you did was wrong. You also did something wrong, Sam. Instead of pushing Carlos off the swing, you could’ve told me and I would have taken care of it” Your teacher bends down to look at the two kids in the eyes

“Sorry, Mrs. Poppy” Sam and Carlos say in unison

“Thank you, you two. I know you two are good kids and know what’s right”

Your teacher leaves with Carlos next to her and you can hear her faintly ask why the boy broke your crayons in the first place

“I like having you as a friend, Sammy” You hug the girl, who’s long since stopped swinging

“I like having you as a friend too, (Y/n)!” Sam beams. Her smile was one of your favorite things ever

“Can we play house?”

“Yeah! I’ll bring my bear next time so she can be our baby!”

//-//

“I can’t believe you can name your sister!” You were over at Sam’s house a few months after her baby sister was born. You didn’t know what to call Sam’s little sister considering… she didn’t really have a name. It was up to Sam to pick a name but of course she was a Carpenter, wanting the best name for her sister. As a result, her baby sister had no name

Until today, that is. Sam was finally making a decision today

“I don’t know what her name is going to be yet” Sam reaches out a finger to her baby sister who happily grabs onto it with curiosity

“She likes you a lot, huh?”

“She knows I’m her sister”

“Maybe I could help you come up with a name! What’s your favorite letter?”

“I like the first letter of your name but I don’t want it to be that! I need to think of something different”

“I know you’ll think of a wonderful name, darling.” Sam’s mom strokes her on the head as she rocks the small baby in her arms

“Do you have another favorite letter?” You ask

“Uh… I like T?”

“What about Triceratops!” You giggle

“Her name can’t be Triceratops, silly!” Sam smiles

“Tennis?”

“(Y/n), those aren’t names” The now older Carpenter giggles along with you

“What about Taylor? Oh! There’s a girl in our class named Thalia?”

“I want it to be different, though! I like those names but Tara needs to be special.” Sam’s eyes go wide in surprise. Maybe her brain just knew her baby sister was supposed to be named Tara

“Tara?” You repeat. “That’s a pretty name! Hi little Tara!” You wave at the baby in her mom’s arms

“Is this official? Is Tara your choice, Sam?”

“Yeah! Tara is a nice name. She looks like her name would be Tara”

“She does, doesn’t she? Such a pretty name you chose, Sam. Honey, come here! We have our daughter’s name!” Mrs. Carpenter yells for her husband

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Sam smile so wide before

//-//

“Hey, Sam?”

“What’s up?”

“Aren’t you scared of middle school?“

“No, why would I be? Middle school should be scared of me” That was your Sam alright. The most fearless person you knew. As far as you knew, she was scared of absolutely nothing. Not even the dark. Which is why you were reluctant to stay outside on your trampoline after sunset. Which is also why you were curled next to Sam as she pointed out all the different stars

“What if we stop being friends?”

“Don’t be stupid, (Y/n)” The Carpenter pinches your cheek and you yelp while giggling, shoving her hand away

“If we stop being friends, which we won’t, I promise I’ll let you have all of my stuffed animals”

“Woah, really?”

“Yes, really

“Every single one of them?”

“Yes, every single one of them” Sam rolls her eyes

“Even Ghostie?” Ghostie was the panda stuffed animal you got Sam for her eighth birthday. Technically your dad bought it for her but you picked it out

“What! You’re not supposed to take a gift back, I like Ghostie”

“Well, you can give me all of your stuffed animals and I’ll just give Ghostie back to you”

“That makes no sense, why wouldn’t you just let me keep it?”

“Cause then you wouldn’t have given me all of your stuffed animals and kept your promise”

“You’re weird, (Y/n)”

“Hey, so are you! That’s why we’re friends”

“Yeah, I guess so” Sam giggles

The sliding door to your house opens and both you and Sam turn to look who’s there. It’s your dad

“Hey, girls! Sam, your parents are leaving now. Best you go with them, eh?”

“Okay! Thank you, Mr. (Y/l/n)” The Carpenter waves to your dad

“Wait, let me go with you inside! It’s scary out here”

//-//

“Sam! What if we get caught out here?” Your words held concern but you couldn’t stop laughing as Sam dragged you under the bleachers

“Shhh! They’re gonna catch us!” The Carpenter put a hand over your mouth and put one over hers so she’d also stop laughing when both of you sat down on the underside of the bleachers where the grass was

Both you and Sam were currently in seventh grade but there was an eighth grade couple that was constantly terrorizing the younger kids. Sam being Sam, she wanted to end their reign.

How did she want to end their reign? By breaking the two up. Sam slipped a note in both of their lockers about meeting to break up during one of their classes, causing both of them to skip. Your job was to lead a teacher to their meetup and if everything went right, then they would be successfully broken up and in detention.

Both of you hear footsteps and see the couple at the meetup spot. The teacher wasn’t far away, all you had to do was rile him up a little and run away. Did you feel a little bad? Maybe. But in your defense the couple was always making out in the hallways and made everyone passing by uncomfortable. For gods sake, it was middle school! Not high school

You and Sam were far enough away you couldn’t hear them but their body language was enough for the both of you to understand. Your plan was going perfectly. You and Sam were more the vigilante type, not the heroes or the villains

The couple exchanged pointed looks and flailing arms, hopefully arguing about the note. You and Sam wrote… not the nicest things in there

The teacher eventually arrives out of breath but the couple is too busy yelling each other to notice how he’s standing over them. He looks to clear his throat and to their horror, they stop fighting. Success!

“Yes! We did it!” Sam says a little too loudly from the position you two were in. Their heads turn in your direction and you know you’re caught when the teacher stars walking towards you two

“Hey! What’re you two doing there under the bleachers?” His ragged voice yells

Shit.

//-//

“Sam? What’s wrong?” You run to the Carpenter, who’s outside under a tree eating her lunch. Usually she’d wait for you but today seemed different

“Get away from me, (Y/n).”

“Sam, don’t be like that. You know me, you can tell me what’s wrong.” You and Sam didn’t share too many classes in eighth grade. Even then, your friendship still didn’t seem to falter. You’d still hang out after school and help each other study. Sam lashing out at you was never really a problem you two had

“No! You don’t know anything.” Sam shoves you away when you try to put your hand on her shoulder. “You’re useless.”

“Sam, you don’t mean that. Please just tell me what’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t understand anything.”

“Yes I do! We always talk to each other, Sammy. Even if I’m not going to understand, I can still listen”

“Don’t say that stupid name.”

“I thought you liked Sammy?”

“See, that’s the thing with you! You’re always so stuck in the past. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“You’re not being very nice right now”

“Yeah? Well you can deal with it.” The last thing you expect Sam to do is push you onto the ground into a patch of dirt.

“We’re done. I’m not your friend anymore.”

“Sam- we can talk about this” Tears pool in your eyes. You try to get up but all that happens is a crawl

“We can’t. You’re weak and pathetic and can’t do anything without me.”

Sam doesn’t look back when you say her name through tears. Sam doesn’t look back when she hears a few laughs and whispers directed at you. Sam doesn’t look back.

//-//

“Heyyyyy (Y/n)!” Sam’s voice slurs over the phone. It was almost one in the morning, what the hell was this girl doing? Not to mention this is the first time she’s even talked to you since middle school. And yet, you still answered without hesitation. Damn you really needed to grow a backbone

“Sam? What’s going on?”

“Nothingggggg whut’re y’doin?”

“I was trying to go to sleep then you called me. Where are you?”

“Why’d y’wanna know? You’re not my momma!”

“Are you drunk? Sam, you’re underage!”

“No fun… I’m wif my friends! We at a partayyy!”

“Whose house are you at?” Grabbing your keys, you race to the door. Your dad was asleep and you only had your learners permit but you couldn’t just hang up on your Sam like that.

“Uh… Tristan? He’s in our uh… what class is he in?”

“Math. Tristan from math, got it” You knew where he lived. You tutored the guy as requested by his parents but he paid you more money to stop coming to his house than his parents did for your tutoring business. How could you say no to free money?

Thankfully he wasn’t far. Thank god for that, you weren’t one to drive at night

You go faster than you hope but luckily you don’t get pulled over. You really didn’t want to go to overnight jail and face your dad the next morning but surely he would understand the circumstances you were in. He knew you, he knew Sam, he knew the devotion.

At least that’s what you told yourself on the way to Tristan’s house

You could hear the house blasting bad music from about four blocks away. It was a wonder how the police hadn’t shown up yet. Unless he paid off them too. You wouldn’t put it past the guy

Were you invited? No. But in all the movies you’ve watched - said movies being Mean Girls - random people just showed up and nobody cared enough to kick them out. So you walked up to the door like you were invited and instantly started looking for Sam

The music was so loud you could feel it in your lungs and couldn’t hear your thoughts. You couldn’t imagine this was the scene Sam was willing to put herself in but then again you hadn’t talked to her in years. Maybe under all those layers she was a party animal at heart

You internally laugh at the thought. Like hell Sam’s actually a party animal

After a bit you find Sam snorting some drug that probably shared the name with a sexually transmitted disease. Grabbing the sleeve of her shirt, you drag her out of the house while her friends groan and call you a party pooper.

“Hey! Wh- what’s wrong wif you!?”

“We’re going home, Sam. I’m taking you home”

“No! T-Tara can’t see me. Wanna go somewhere else…” Sam struggles against your grip. She’s always been stronger than you but in her intoxicated state you could probably carry her like a sack of potatoes if you tried hard enough

“Fine, I’ll take you to my house. You can spend the night”

“Noooo, wanna party…”

“We’re going home, Sam.”

In all of your years of friendship with Sam, she’s never seen you so stern before. The Carpenter keeps her mouth shut for the rest of the car ride.

After lots of trial and error, you eventually get Sam out of your car and into your bedroom with much difficulty. Thankfully your dad was the heaviest sleeper you knew. You search for a shirt and shorts that fit Sam, ignoring her protests of not wanting to sleep

Against your better judgment, you now have your intoxicated ex-best friend in your bed as her sobriety was nowhere to be found

“Why did you call me, Sam? Even in your state I know you couldn’t do that on accident”

“Ugh, friends made me. Wan’ me t’call my first crush”

“What?” You’re taken aback. Did you hear her correctly?

“Tired… m’sleepy”

You sigh, bringing your hand to Sam’s face to stroke her cheek. Your heart breaks when the older Carpenter leans into your hand like a touch starved cat. You wished things would go back to normal but Sam was stubborn. She wouldn’t let you in no matter how many times you tried.

“Go to sleep, Sam. I hope I’ll see you in the morning” You’re only met with small snores

You wanted to hate Sam. You wanted to hate Sam with all your heart for pushing you away and not even looking at her sister anymore

You wanted to hate Samantha Carpenter so badly but you couldn’t

//-//

It’s nine thirty in the morning when you hear a knock at your door. It was a Saturday. Who the hell was up this early? Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and attempting to smooth out your hair with your hands, you begrudgingly walk downstairs to the door. Your dad was at work already and usually you weren’t up at this hour

Looking through the peephole, you don’t expect to see Tara Carpenter in tears at your door.

“Hey what happened, sweetheart?” You bend down to meet Tara’s eyes. They were red and puffy, evidently showing she was crying a lot. And a lot before she got to you

“S-Sam, she-“ Your heart broke when Tara couldn’t let out even a few words without hiccuping and sniffling

“You can tell me later, darling. How about we drink some juice and you can tell me what’s happening, yeah?”

“No! S-Sam’s…” There seemed to be a never ending amount of tears flowing. “She’s gone, (Y/n). She’s gone and she’s gone for good.” Tara runs into your arms, staining your shirt with her tears.

“What do you mean, baby?”

“M-Mom said Sam left a-and isn’t coming back…” Your heart breaks when Tara’s breathing gets quicker and isn’t able to catch her breath

You pick up the younger Carpenter, taking her to your couch. Tara’s on your lap and you’re holding her just like her mom probably did when she was born. It was something your dad always did, even when you got older. Sometimes people just needed to be babied no matter how old they were.

So you start rocking Tara. She’s holding onto you like you’re the only thing keeping her alive and you move her ear to your heart. Placing her head under your chin, you hum a tune that was familiar to you. A lullaby your mom always sung to you before she died

You kiss Tara’s forehead with tears in your eyes. You saw how Sam changed and you couldn’t help her. You knew this day was going to come and you couldn’t stop it. But how could you?

When Sam looked at you with such hatred and anger, you’d wonder if she was still the same Sam that pushed Carlos because he broke your new crayons. When you saw her high out of her mind with people that didn’t care about her, you’d wonder if she was the same Sam that watched the stars with you on your trampoline. When you looked at Sam all you could see was what you two were. Was your Sam even still in there there?

You felt disgusted with yourself. You could’ve done something and yet you did nothing.

You’d never see best friend again and Tara would only remember her sister as hateful and unloving. Memories of Sam would go sour until you only had Tara and Tara only had you as a reminder of who Sam used to be.

When the younger Carpenter sees you also crying, she somehow manages to hug you tighter than she already has. What a lovely girl Tara was.

“A-Are you okay, (Y/n)?” The brunette says in a small voice

“Can I be honest with you, Tara?” You earn a nod from the small girl

“No. I’m not okay. But you know what? I’ve got you and you got me. Thank you for telling me.”

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Mom says she isn’t coming back. Sam didn’t talk to me a lot but I miss her.”

“You’ve got such a big heart, Tara. Did you know that? Please don’t ever lose it for me.”

“Will Sam come back?”

Your breath hitches and for a second you’re left without words in your throat and without knowledge about the future.

“Yes… she’ll come back. Sam just doesn’t know it yet.”

Tara’s mom comes storming in a second later with an out of breath angry expression that slowly softens when she sees how her daughter is nestled in your arms

“Tara, you can’t just run away like that. You made me so scared, you know I can’t run as fast as you” Her mom presses a kiss to her forehead

“I had to tell (Y/n), Mom! She’s Sam’s best friend and she deserved to know”

Her mom brought a hand to Tara’s face to wipe a few stray tears. With her other, she placed on your shoulder with a small nod. Sam was gone. She was gone for good.

//-//

Sam spends her first night away from home in her car in a neighborhood she didn’t recognize. The first night Sam leaves, she holds Ghostie in her arms and hopes it’s enough to keep her safe.

//-//

“You’re hiding something”

“What?” You and Tara always hung out ever since Sam left. Her mom hasn’t been the same since her husband walked out. You offered to be one of Tara’s caretakers to help her mom with the load of being a single mother without Sam or her husband’s support

Your dad wasn’t home very often but every now and again he’d give you random tips on how to raise a teenager. At least, tips he used when he raised you. At first he was skeptical of you taking on the role of caretaker at such a young age but when you employed Tara to use her puppy eyes, it was a losing battle for him.

So Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, Tara was all yours. You’ve been doing this since you turned eighteen and could confidently drive without being nervous at all. Also mostly because you couldn’t be her guardian in the eyes of the law under eighteen

There was a void in Tara’s heart and while you couldn’t fully replace her sister, the least you could do was be there. Which is how you knew something was up when she started picking at one of the things she loved so dearly. Your cooking.

“I know you’re hiding something, squirt”

“You’re crazy, I’m not hiding anything” Tara scoffs

“Hey, I’m not decades older than you. I know when you’re lying” You hated pulling the ‘I used to be your age’ card but now you’re realizing how effective it is when you’re only six or seven years older than Tara

Tara throws her head back, groaning in what seems to be frustration and covering her face. You can’t hold back your snicker. The younger Carpenter was always one for theatrics

“You don’t have to tell me but I could really help you, you know? With how super knowledgeable I am, as you know”

“Knowledgeable my ass, you didn’t know your microwave had a popcorn button until I told you”

“In my defense, I heard you’re not even supposed to use the popcorn button for popcorn”

“Then why is it called a popcorn button?”

“I dunno. Maybe the same reason why Greenland is called Greenland”

“What?”

“Deception. The guy who found Greenland named it that cause he wanted more people to come over. I bet he was lonely”

“Why do you know that?” Tara says in between laughs

“No clue, but we’re getting off topic!” You smile. “The point is, you shouldn’t feel like you have to keep secrets from me.” You reach over to pinch Tara’s cheek and she tries to swat your hand away, ultimately failing. “Well, big secrets. If you cheated on a test or something I don’t care that much”

“Thanks, (Y/n)”

“No problemo, squirt”

So now you were back to silently eating dinner except for your TV playing some sitcom Tara liked. You could handle the quietness. Even if Tara didn’t want to tell you, at least she knew you were there to listen. That’s all that mattered

“(Y/n), I think I like a girl.”

//-//

“What was Sam like?” Tara says out of the blue. “I was thirteen when she left but she didn’t really talk to me. What was she like… before that?”

It was another weekend night that consisted of spending time with Tara. The question catches you off guard

“I don’t think you’d believe me, squirt”

“Well I wanna know anyways. Even if i believe it or not”

“Did you know Sam named you?”

“She did?”

“Yeah, Sam named you Tara. You were unnamed for a while before she came up with anything.”

“Mom said she was mean. Is that true?”

“I mean yeah, but not entirely. When you’re friends with Sam, she’d be the nicest person you’ve ever met. Hell, she’d probably kill for anyone she loved. But when someone messed with a person she loved, nothing could stop her from making her loved one feel better”

“I wish I could’ve experienced it.”

“Trust me, you did. You just don’t remember it. One time when you were little, a kid that was around Sam’s age at time pushed you into the mud at the playground and Sam was furious” You laugh

“You cried and Sam could hear you from where we were playing soccer. She found him and kicked his ass so hard he crawled back to his mommy so we took you and booked it out of there”

“She did that?” Tara covers her mouth laughing, failing to cover it up

“I remember it like it was yesterday, squirt. Sam gave you a piggy back ride and you were giggling the entire time we ran home.”

//-//

“Fuck, Tara! Shit, I came as fast as I could. Are you okay? Oh my god, of course you’re not okay.” You barged into Tara’s hospital room without any concern of who else was in there. You took her face in your hands and scanned for anything wrong until you brought her into a bone crushing hug. “Sorry, stupid question. Holy shit I’m so happy you’re alive, squirt. I am never letting you out of my sight again. Okay maybe in the future I will, but the future is not now! Right now I’m never leaving you again.”

“You’re such a fighter, you know that? Holy shit you must’ve been so scared. Tara you’re the strongest person I know, did you know that?” There are tears in your eyes threatening to spill. You don’t even notice there are other people in the room.

“Deep breaths, (Y/n). I’m okay. Look, I’m right here” Tara takes one of your hands and puts it against her heart. Your eyes can’t hold in your tears any longer. When you cried, you rambled. Tara was ready for the storm.

“Fuck you’re such a sweet girl, Tara. Even when you’re lying in a hospital bed you care about me. I don’t know what monster would do this to you! He obviously doesn’t know what a blessing to this world you are. Please promise you’ll never let anyone stop you from being the beautiful sweet girl you are.”

There it was.

You felt a hand rub your back and your arm. You assumed it was Tara. Until you heard a hum that wasn’t Tara’s. Until you realized this person had rough hands. And oddly smelt like…

“Sam?” Your head whips around

“Hey, (Y/n). I… I missed you.”

“Sam?” You let go for a second and bring your hand to her face. Not in a cute or romantic holding-her-cheek-way, no, you pinch at her cheeks and nose with a questioning look. You poke at Sam’s forehead and nose, still probably in disbelief. Yeah, you were still her (Y/n).

“Please don’t tell me both of you are dead and I’m actually in a psych ward and this is all a dream” You whisper and you can hear Tara laugh behind you

“No, this is all very real.” Sam smiles, taking your hand off her face and gently putting it back by your side. Your eyes go wide and you whip around to look back at the younger Carpenter

“Tara, can I take my attention off you for a second? Will you be okay?” You whisper, knowing damn well Sam could hear you

“Yeah I’ll be okay, (Y/n). Go hug Sam.”

You press a kiss against Tara’s hairline and immediately after, launch into Sam’s arms. Tara could feel it again, you were going to start crying and rambling.

“Sam, I can’t believe you’re here! Well of course you’re here. I always knew you’d come back! I knew you wanted to come back. I don’t know why you left, but I hope you achieved your goal and came back because you missed us. Also I’m really mad at you but for the sake of time we can discuss that at a later time.”

There it was.

“You two are close, huh?” You don’t notice there’s a man with curly hair in the room and you raise an eyebrow at Sam

“Yeah, very close” You say

“Sorry, I should introduce you two. (Y/n), this is my boyfriend Richie. Richie, this is (Y/n). My…” Fuck. Sam couldn’t just say you were her best friend after all these years. After she made your life shit, was she even allowed to call you her friend? What if-

“Best friend. Happy to meet you, Richie”

“Likewise” He smiles. There’s a pang of a certain emotion in your chest you can’t quite place

“Well, I’ll be going now. Feel better soon, Tara” Richie waves at the younger Carpenter and gives Sam a kiss before he leaves Tara’s hospital room

“Do you know if my friends are visiting soon?” Tara asks you. Sam doesn’t know how to feel when she sees Tara treating you more like a sister than her. She knew it was wrong. Sam had no right to be treated like a sister after she just up and left all those years ago

“Amber told me she was getting some of your things from her house. The twins are coming over right now, okay? I think you’ll feel better when you see them”

Sam felt like an alien watching you and Tara talk. Watching you two was like watching everything she’s missed. Sam missed almost all of Tara’s high school experience. Arguably one of the most important times to have an older sister. She shouldn’t have been jealous. She wasn’t allowed to be jealous after all she did to you and Tara

“How’re you feeling right now? Anything I need to tell the doctors?”

“No, I’m feeling okay”

“Hey, can I talk to you outside, (Y/n)?” Sam says almost above a whisper

“Yeah, of course.” You turn to face Tara as you walk out her room. “See you in a second, squirt. Don’t run away” The brunette rolls her eyes at your words

“Guess I owe you all my stuffed animals, huh?”

“You still remember that?” You raise an eyebrow at the girl

“I do. I owe you an explanation, don’t I?”

“An explanation would be appreciated” You weren’t mad at Sam per se, just very very very disappointed. Mostly at yourself for letting her leave

“You remember when I yelled at you that day in middle school? I said I didn’t want to talk to you or be your friend anymore? It’s not an excuse, but I have an explanation.”

You nod along to Sam’s story, listening close

“The night before I yelled at you, I found out my dad wasn’t really my dad. I was going through my mom’s diaries I found in the attic and it was the worst thing I’ve ever done. I.. I found out I was-“ Sam doesn’t realize she’s crying until she chokes on her words and your expression falters. Sam remembers you were always good at comforting people

She’d always get bruises and scrapes when she was younger but you were always there to make her feel better. Fuck, she can’t remember why she would ever leave you. You were the perfect best friend. Always an inviting smile and open arms that were ready for hugs. The only one that stuck with Sam through whatever happened.

Sam was at her lowest of lows when you picked her up that night during the party. She remembers wondering why she’d put you so much pain and worry. She smoothed out the wrinkles on your forehead while you were asleep and felt guilty she was probably the cause of them. That night when you picked up Sam from that party and you had your arms wrapped around her, Sam asked herself why she would ever push you away. She loved everything about you. She loved you.

In her drunken state she remembers wanting to fade away into your memory. At least then you’d remember the Sam that played tag with you and not the one that snorted or drank away her pain. It was the same night she decided to leave everything behind. She decided to leave you behind

But Sam was selfish. She wanted you to tell her not to go. To come back into your arms and for you to tell her everything would be okay. That it didn’t matter she was the bastard child of a serial killer. It wasn’t her fault her dad left. Reassuring her you and Tara would love Sam the same. In a perfect world Sam would’ve still been Tara’s sister and you would’ve been her-

“Hey, look at me. You don’t have to tell me. If this is hurting you so much then I understand why you wanted to run away. What matters is that you came back. You’re strong for that” You pull Sam into your arms, letting her cry into the side of your neck.

Sam didn’t have the heart or the voice to tell you it wasn’t the story making her cry. She feared her voice would fail her and drive you away again. Sam would tell you why she left later

But right now, Sam was happy to be able to bask in your arms once again.

//-//

“Hey, (Y/n)?”

“Mhm?” You and Sam were back at your house getting some things Tara wanted

She requested the teddy bear Amber got her for her birthday, a blanket from her bed, and something better than hospital food. You decided to whip up something quick and simple you knew Tara liked. Frozen orange chicken from the store and fried rice

“I think I can tell you about why I left now.”

“Are you sure? I’m not gonna force you to tell me if it hurts so much to say, Sam”

“No, you of all people deserve to know. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m the same person that said all those horrible things to you and just never talked to you again without explanation.”

“Hey, don’t worry about all that. It’s in the past now and I know you’ve changed. I forgive you-“

“No, (Y/n). You can’t forgive me. You can’t make excuses for me and talk to me like we’re best friends again when I ignored you because I was mad at myself and- and-“ Sam chokes on her words and can’t hide it when you glance at her.

“Oh, Sam…”

“No, you can’t forgive me yet. I betrayed your trust. You can’t forgive me.”

“Sam, I accepted your apology when I saw you in Tara’s hospital room. Whatever you were going to say, I already knew I’d forgive you all the same.”

“Stop saying that, (Y/n). You don’t always have to be nice, you can be mad too.”

“But it’s true, Sam. If I’m mad at someone, I’m mad at myself for not fighting for you harder”

“How can you still look at me even when I left you. Years of friendship, all down the drain because I couldn’t handle being the bastard child of a serial killer that broke her family apart.” You turn off the heat to your stove, walking over to where Sam was curled into herself and sitting near the bottom of the staircase

Taking a seat next to her, you drape your arm around her shoulders and attempt to get her to rest her head on your shoulder. Sam doesn’t let you and fights back.

“Samantha Carpenter, you have been gone for five years. One-thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, not including leap day. You aren’t allowed to push me away again. If you really want to say sorry, you can start by letting me in.” You take on a faux-mad tone and it seems to work

Slowly, the older Carpenter leans into your shoulder with a sigh. She makes herself comfortable and looks at you through her eyelids. It was weird. Five years out of Woodsboro and four years away from you, yet you still opened up your arms like nothings changed. It was odd. You were odd.

“What’re you thinking about?” You’ve always had a knack for reading Sam’s mind. Whenever she got quiet and her heart looked like it slowed, she was probably thinking

“You.”

“What about me?”

“How I don’t get you”

“What don’t you get about me?”

“I haven’t talked to you in nine years, I show up unannounced, and you’re still acting like we’re best friends even after all this time. I can’t tell if you’re the nicest or weirdest person ever.”

“Can’t I be both?” You smile, trying to lighten the mood. You realize it doesn’t work when Sam shies away from your gaze

“Well, I can be honest. I think it’s because I’m selfish.” That makes Sam look at you again so you decide to keep going

“Of course I’m… disappointed you broke up our friendship and you left without telling me and left your sister and I to believe you were never coming back,” The older Carpenter winces at your words but you don’t let her stop looking at you. Even as you avoid eye contact and place your gaze somewhere else.

“But there’s a part of me that wants everything to go back to normal. I know we’re going to have to talk about it. About us and about why, but right now I think what we need to do is be there for Tara. She’s in the hospital after being attacked by a serial killer and the last thing she needs is her older sister and her best friend fighting. We can do all the yelling and crying and screaming later.”

Taking a breath in, you look back at Sam who’s already looking at you. I’m makes your heart flutter in a way you don’t understand.

“And maybe that’s my excuse. Maybe I never want to cry or yell or scream at you. Maybe I’m putting off the inevitable because I don’t want you to leave again. Maybe Tara is my excuse for not being mad at you. Maybe I’m holding out hope for someone that doesn’t exist anymore. We’re different people than when we were in middle school. I don’t want to cling to a person that doesn’t exist anymore yet here I am, clinging to someone that doesn’t exist like she’s my lifeline. But in all honesty, I don’t think I could stay mad at you for too long. Even if I tried.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” There’s a silence that passes between you two. You can’t tell if it’s awkward or comfortable silence. You hope it’s the latter

“Do you get me a little more?”

“Well, not entirely. But I think it’s a step.”

“Yeah. Steps are good, aren’t they? Keep you healthy.” Sam smiles at your stupid joke.

You don’t miss how Sam still reminds you of looking like one of your old stuffed animals.

“What was Tara like?”

“What do you mean?” The question catches you off guard. The Carpenter sisters seemed to have that in common

“I missed a lot of her life. What was she like?”

“I don’t think she’s changed a lot. Tara is a sweet girl, she’s got a good head on her shoulders and a good heart in her body.”

“But that’s probably not what you’re asking. Tara was… distraught when you left.” You pick your words carefully. “She ran away from her mom just to tell me you left. She said I deserved to know since I was your best friend. It took a while for her to want to let go of me me. It’s when I knew I just couldn’t let her stay like that forever”

You shakily sigh before continuing. You’d have to acknowledge the elephant in the room eventually and you decided it was going to be now. “I know I’m not her real sister. I hope you’ll forgive me for taking a role that was supposed to-“

“Are you kidding?” Sam quickly cuts you off when she registers what you’re saying. “If anything, I’m happy it was you.” The Carpenter lifts her head up from your shoulder to look at you. To really look at you. “I know she has a good person to look up to. I’m happy you two are close.”

You’re about to respond when your ringtone goes off. The same ringtone you had in high school. Some Evanescence song you remember religiously listening to in school blasts from your phone. Usually it was Tara who found it embarrassing when you had to answer it in public but this time it was you with the reddened cheeks. Scrambling to find your phone in your pocket, you pull it out to see it’s Tara calling you

“Hey squirt. What’s up?”

“Are you guys going to hurry up anytime soon? I’m starving”

“Yeah we’re leaving just now don’t worry about it”

“Okay but my stomach is currently eating itself”

“You’ll live. I’ll see you soon, yeah? Don’t go running anywhere”

“At least I don’t run jokes into the ground until they’re dead… pun not intended”

“Hah! Proof you’re taking after me whether you like it or not”

“Whatever, I’ll see you soon. Run red lights if you have to”

“You got it, boss. See you soon” You pocket your phone, getting up from where you’re sitting. Offering Sam your hand, she takes it and you help her up too

“C’mon, our little girl’s hungry. That’s something you should know, she’s got an appetite the size of an elephant and a metabolism as fast as a cheetah” You smile, putting Tara’s food in a lunchbox you had in a random cabinet somewhere

Sam doesn’t trust her voice to do anything but break so she laughs at your comment and you both leave your house

Sam thinks our little girl has a good ring to it.

//-//

“Oh my god. Tara? Sam?” You narrowly avoided the police yelling at you to get away and the caution tape that prevented you from coming any closer. What used to be a house that held fond memories had been replaced with one that only caused you worry. You couldn’t lose both Tara and Sam. You couldn’t lose your favorite girls.

Sam texted you to come over to Amber’s house. That it was a Ghostface emergency and the speed in which you jumped in your car rivaled The Flash himself

“(Y/n)!” Sam’s voice. You run to the sound, dodging and weaving through the paramedics and police officers telling you to leave

Sam finds you with bags under your eyes and your hair a mess. It looked like you were in your sleepwear. Even though you were just in a band tee and plaid pajama pants, Sam feels the need to wipe the blood off her face and clothes to look a little presentable. You always had that effect for some reason

“Sam.” You breathe a sigh of relief, running into her arms. Your choked sobs reach her ears and it’s the saddest sound she’s ever heard. Sam squeezes you tighter. Maybe if she did she’d never want to leave again

“You’re back and you almost left me again. Don’t you know how mad I would be if you died?” Pulling back, you put both of your hands on Sam’s cheeks like you did so many years ago. “You- you-“

“Hey, shh… I’m here. I’m here, sweetie. See? I’m here and I’m never leaving again.” Sam leans her forehead against yours, putting your hands around her waist so she could wipe the tears away from your face.

“I’m here, yeah? We won. They’re gone now, (Y/n).”

“How’re you sure?”

“They’re dead. Both of the Ghostfaces are dead.”

Sam leans in, awfully close for someone who’s just your best friend. Your mind instantly goes to her boyfriend. You know what’s about to happen so you back away, a little weary. The Carpenter furrows her eyebrows looking a little sad, oddly resembling a kicked puppy.

“What about Ric-?”

“Don’t say his name, it’ll ruin your perfect mouth” Sam cups your cheek, running her face over your bottom lip

You have to fight your body to not get hot at her words and actions. “Yeah but- he’s kind of your boyfriend. Where is he?”

“Ex-boyfriend actually. He’s dead, I killed him.”

“Oh. Am I right for assuming that’s a god thing?”

“Very good. He was one of the Ghostfaces”

“One of? Who’s the other?”

“I think Tara should be the one to tell you”

“Well, I didn’t like Richie to begin with. He gave me an odd feeling”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Sam leans in closer to you, a ghost of a kiss hanging in the air waiting to be taken. Sam smiles against your breath and for a fraction of a second you think your heart has stopped beating.

“He got to kiss you before I did.” Something snaps in Sam when you kiss her. A craving she’s always had, a certain desire finally being filled, or maybe even her dreams coming true.

You hold Sam like she’s about to leave again, pulling her impossibly close. You’re never letting her go again. It’s Sam who pulls away first. She’s out of breath but you lean in to steal more kisses before she smiles against your lips and it’s an image you never want to forget.

“Please, you two have to stop doing this.” You whisper, your eyes going wide. “Where’s Tara?” You pull away from Sam, whipping your head around like it’s going to help you find her quicker

“C’mon, she’s over here. Be careful, don’t squeeze her too hard”

“I’m going to squeeze that girl until she knows how much I love her.”

“You might break one of her ribs, darling”

“Squirt, you’re alive!” You run to Tara as her head whips in your direction. You can feel tears pool in your eyes once again and you’re okay with letting them go.

“(Y/n), I was so scared. A-Amber she- she tried to kill me.”

“What? Amber? Amber as in, your girlfriend?” You say shocked, taking Tara’s face in your hands to look at her

“A-Amber and Richie, they-“

“How about we tell (Y/n) what happened later? We need to make sure everyone is okay, including ourselves. (Y/n) can wait, right?”

“Oh I can wait alright. I’m the best at waiting. You can tell me about it when you’re feeling better”

One of the paramedics call over the Carpenter sisters and by proximity, you tag along. A man is ushering them in an ambulance and you’re also about to hop in before he stops you

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but we can’t let you into the ambulance. We don’t have enough space.”

“That is my little girl and that is my girlfriend. I will either be running every single red light, hang on the top of this ambulance, or so forgive me god for what I’m going to do.”

“O-Of course, Ma’am. You can ride in the ambulance.”

“Thank you, sir. You made a good decision today” You pat his shoulder, taking your seat near Sam. You sling an arm around Sam’s shoulders and reach out to hold Tara’s hand.

“Girlfriend, huh?” Tara weakly smiles, looking between you and her sister.

#sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter #scream 5 #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #amber freeman #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #richie kirsch #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you

709 notes · View notes

bimbosicko · 8 days ago

Text

GET HIM BACK !

when sam accidentally sees dean in bed with two girls, you decide to give him the idea of getting revenge and get him back ۶ৎ

pairings ! sam winchester x fem! reader

warnings ! english isn't my first language, creampie! wrap it before you tap it guys, season three sam winchester, sam is an awkward dork, reader is a BIGGER awkward dork, it starts as a joke and ends with sex... lmao. this is fluff!! with sex!! porn with 2k of plot 😭, let's have a shot whenever i mention cheeks or the word fuck and let's get BUSTED.

author's note ! he's so cute i love him sm (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) remember!! my asks are open and everything you need to know ab myself is in the pinned post in my blog, ily<33

word count ! 5,1 k of words wtf is wrong with me!!

"I am traumatized."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips before you could stop it. "Sam, you're not traumatized..." you said, your voice tinged with amusement, the edges of a smile playing on your lips.

"I've seen Kama Sutra positions that were easier than whatever was going on in that room," he added, your laughter echoed in the room, and for a moment, you felt the familiar ease you always had with Sam.

"God, you're hilarious," you said, shaking your head. "Don't ever change."

"I think that experience changed me," he muttered, sounding truly displeased.

"Come on," you shrugged. "He deserves to have a little fun every now and then. I mean... he doesn't have much time left." The lightness in your voice faltered as the words left your mouth, and you regretted them the moment you saw the way Sam's face darkened.

"Hey," he said sharply, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "Don't say that. We'll find a way."

You nodded, though the uncertainty in your expression must have betrayed you. "If you say so, Sammy..." The nickname slipped off your tongue as naturally as breathing, like it belonged there. At this point, the bond between you two felt as unshakable as the tides meeting the shore. He noticed, of course, and for a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place but felt deep in your chest.

Sam rolled his eyes then, trying to shake off the weight of the moment. "You’re lucky you were asleep during all that. If not, I would’ve sent you to the room," he grumbled with a mock huff.

Your nose wrinkled at his suggestion, heat rising to your cheeks. "Well..." you trailed off, looking anywhere but at him.

His brows furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean by well?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

You covered your face with both hands, already regretting opening your mouth. "I didn’t want to see that!" you squeaked, your voice muffled by your palms. Your cheeks burned, and you felt the weight of his gaze on you.

Sam leaned closer, the proximity making your pulse race. "Wait, wait, wait..." he said, his tone lighter now but with a hint of teasing curiosity. "Are you saying you pretended to be asleep?"

Your eyes widened as you peeked through your fingers, only to find his smirk growing. "Sam!" you whined, your embarrassment mounting.

He tilted his head, grinning now, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "So, you did. Wow, I thought you were fearless, but apparently, even you have limits."

"Oh, shut up," you muttered, crossing your arms defensively. But the way he laughed—a deep, genuine laugh—made your heart skip. You tried not to smile, but the corners of your lips betrayed you.

For a moment, the air between you two shifted. The teasing banter faded into a comfortable silence, but the unspoken tension lingered, thick and electric. His gaze softened, lingering on you just a second too long, and you felt the world narrow to just the two of you. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

"You're something else, you know that?" he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite name.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the fairytale-like spell that seemed to envelop the two of you. Sam was so close that you could feel his warmth, and staying indifferent to it felt like an almost impossible task.

"So... when is Dean coming back from the hospital?" you whispered, locking your gaze on Sam’s eyes.

"In an hour, I think." His voice was calm, but there was something in his tone that echoed in the silence that followed.

You nodded but said nothing more. A heavy silence settled between you, not exactly uncomfortable, but not easy to ignore either. The tension was palpable, as if every breath you took fed a fire that neither of you dared acknowledge.

"You should get back at Dean," you blurted out suddenly, trying to dispel the pressure that seemed to hang in the air. You pretended to be distracted, playing with your nails, but you were fully aware of Sam's every move from the corner of your eye.

"What?" His eyebrow arched, but there was something more behind his reaction, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

"You know... like, uh, Dean catching you doing that. It’d be funny," you murmured, feeling your shoulders tense as the words left your mouth.

"Do you think so?" he asked. His voice was calm, but there was something in it—something that made your heartbeat feel stronger, louder. "I wouldn’t want to involve some random girl in something like that..."

"Oh, right, totally. It could traumatize her," you replied with obvious irony, trying to mask your own discomfort. Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t stop yourself. "We could… do it. You and I… you know?"

The pause that followed was so thick that, for a second, you thought you’d said something completely out of line. Sam made a sound, like he had just let all the air leave his lungs at once.

"Us?" His voice sounded incredulous, but there was something deeper in it, something mingling with the surprise.

You coughed lightly, trying not to appear as affected as you felt. "Yeah, sure. We could pretend to do it, just to mess with him," you added quickly, your voice breaking slightly at the end.

"Oh," Sam said, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell what that "oh" meant. Was he surprised? Disappointed? But then he spoke again, and there was something different in his tone, something you hadn’t heard before. "Oh, right, I mean…"

He trailed off, and you glanced up, only to find him looking at you with a mix of uncertainty and something you couldn’t quite name. His gaze dropped to your lips for just a second—so quick it was almost imperceptible—but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

"Do you want to? Really?" he asked finally, his voice lower, almost a whisper.

"Pretend," you corrected, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you. "Just to mess with Dean, nothing more."

"Right," he murmured, though there was something in his tone that didn’t quite match the lightness of the situation. A small smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes stayed fixed on yours, studying you like he was searching for something more in your proposal.

The silence returned, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged, as if the unsaid words between you filled the space with more intensity than any conversation ever could.

"It could be fun," he said finally, his voice rough, and there was something in his expression that made you wonder if he was really talking about the prank—or about something else entirely.

You laughed, though the sound came out more nervous than you intended. You were trying to hide how tense you were, but the knot in your stomach was impossible to ignore.

“Yeah, sure…” you muttered more to yourself, your voice barely audible. Sam’s gaze lingered on you, scanning your figure from head to toe, and that simple gesture made your legs feel like jelly.

“It has to look realistic,” he said suddenly, his tone slightly firmer, though his eyes held a mix of shyness and something deeper you couldn’t quite name.

“Oh God—right,” you responded almost without thinking, your words rushed as you fought to keep your composure. Your hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, and though your cheeks were burning, you began unbuttoning it slowly. “Uh… like this?”

Sam averted his eyes for a moment, clearing his throat softly, as if that could somehow break the growing tension in the air. But when he looked back at you, his face was as red as yours.

“Uh—yeah, I guess… looks realistic to me,” he said finally, his voice lower, almost as if he were talking to himself. His gaze lingered briefly on your collarbones, dipping for a split second before meeting your eyes again.

Your voice wavered, though you tried to inject it with a touch of false confidence to mask the storm swirling inside you. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one without a shirt,” you said, feigning a casual tone as you rolled your eyes.

For a moment, you thought Sam hadn’t heard you, but then you saw him swallow hard, clearly affected. “Right—you’re right,” he muttered, his voice a little deeper than usual as he reached for the hem of his shirt.

Time seemed to slow as he pulled it off, revealing the tanned skin of his torso. You didn’t want to look, but it was impossible not to. The definition of his shoulders, the movement of his muscles… it all felt like too much to handle.

Damn.

He held the shirt in his hands for a moment, as if unsure what to do with it, before letting it fall to the floor. “Is this more fair?” he asked, with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as though he too was trying to ease the tension between you.

“I guess…” you murmured, though your voice barely came out. Your eyes met his, and the silence that followed was deafening. You could hear the sound of his breathing, slow and heavy, mixing with yours, and the space between you seemed to shrink with every passing second.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” he said finally, his tone attempting to be light, but the nervousness was unmistakable.

“You said it,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to shield yourself from him or from the way he made you feel.

He took a step toward you, not too close, but enough that you could feel his presence even stronger. “We can stop if you want,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“No,” you said quickly—too quickly. You wanted to take it back, to say something else, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you tried to smile, though it barely counted as one. “I want to keep going.” Your tone sounded far more serious for something that was supposed to be just a joke. Sam seemed to notice, his eyes glinting under the motel’s dim yellow light.

The space between you remained charged, as if both of you were waiting for something neither dared to say out loud.

“God, this feels like the start of a bad porn,” you said abruptly, making Sam laugh.

He nodded, biting his lip as if to hold back a smile. Then, slowly, he stepped closer, moving cautiously, as though afraid you’d bolt at any moment. The way his figure loomed over you was almost intimidating, but in the part of you that wasn’t scared, it made you feel warm.

“Let’s get to the bed, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and syrupy.

“Bed?” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.

“It has to be realistic.”

Realistic, of course. How could you forget?

“Yeah sure, let's go to bed.”

Sam lifted you with ease, as if you weighed far less than you actually did, yet he dropped you onto the bed with just a bit more force than necessary, making you let out a startled yelp.

“Ouch! That hurt,” you said through laughter, trying to sound offended, though the tone of your voice betrayed you.

Sam leaned over you, his arms on either side of your face, creating a bubble that seemed to isolate you both from the rest of the world.

“Sorry—” he murmured, though there was a smile tugging at his lips that he couldn’t quite hide.

You shook your head quickly, fighting to keep a straight face. “It’s not funny! Don’t laugh,” you scolded him, but the sparkle in your eyes and the smile curling your lips completely undermined your words. You could feel the warmth of his arms so close to you, and the air between you seemed heavier, thicker.

Your laughter began to fade, giving way to a silence that wasn’t awkward but felt almost… comforting. You sighed, trying to catch your breath, but that was the moment you realized just how close his face was to yours. So close that you could feel the faint brush of his breath against your skin.

“Sammy…” you murmured, his name escaping your lips almost like a whisper. Your voice sounded breathless, as though the air itself was refusing to fill your lungs.

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and full of an intensity that rooted you in place beneath his gaze. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he said, his voice low and rough, sending your heartbeat into an uncontrollable rhythm.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, your hand moved hesitantly, brushing against the warm skin of his neck before resting at the back, applying just enough pressure to pull him even closer. Your breaths were shallow, your lips slightly parted. With a small nod, you finally whispered:

“It’s okay… I want to kiss you too.”

The words were like a spark igniting a flame, and before you could say anything else, his lips crashed into yours. The kiss wasn’t gentle or hesitant; it was fierce, as though all the tension that had built up between you had finally found its release.

The force of his kiss made your head sink into the pillow, and your hands instinctively moved to grip his shoulders, searching for something solid to hold onto as the intensity of the moment threatened to overwhelm you. You could feel the weight of him, his warmth, and suddenly it was like the entire world had faded away, leaving only Sam, the pounding of your heart, and the sensation of his lips against yours.

The kiss deepened, his hands framing your face as though afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t keep you close. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and though you couldn’t see your own face, you were certain your cheeks were as red as his.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your faces still so close that there was barely any space between you. Sam didn’t speak at first, just gazed at you with an intensity that made it hard to breathe, his eyes searching yours as if he needed confirmation that this was real.

You were the first to break the silence, though your voice came out shaky. “That… that was…”

“Incredible,” he finished for you, a small smile playing on his lips—both confident and a little uncertain at the same time. “But, uh… I don’t think Dean’s gonna buy this as just a joke.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, your laughter filling the room as Sam watched you with that soft expression that made your chest tighten all over again.

“Maybe it wasn’t just to mess with Dean,” you murmured, your voice quiet but firm, your eyes never leaving his.

His eyes narrowed slightly, a small smirk forming as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Maybe not,” he replied, his voice low and warm, before leaning in again, this time kissing you with a tenderness that completely unraveled you.

Your body moved before your mind, climbing into Sam's lap like your life depended on it.

He hummed softly, “You're sure you want to do this?”

Your eyes rolled as if the question had been out of place, but your expression broke with a tender smile.

“I am, Sammy, more than anything.”

He nodded softly, pulling you closer to his body and leaving wet kisses on your neck, giving a small bite that made you let out a muffled moan.

Their bodies were so close that there wasn’t even room for oxygen to pass between them. The way Sam moved was rough, deliberate, like a man with a singular goal in mind, his movements precise and calculated.

“Let me help you with this, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with something that sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved toward your jeans, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that felt both electrifying and agonizingly slow.

His touch was so careful as he unbuttoned your jeans, like he was handling something sacred. It was a contradiction to the intensity in his gaze—a gaze so sharp it pinned you in place, leaving you no room to breathe, no room to think.

You knew those eyes. They were the same eyes he used when he was tracking a monster, honing in on his prey with unwavering focus. Without realizing it, you had become his target—a prey about to be devoured.

As he slid your jeans down, his movements were slow, deliberate, almost torturous. His lips followed the path his hands carved, planting soft, burning kisses along every inch of newly exposed skin. Each kiss was a promise, a tease, leading down to what felt like the edge of the world.

Your breathing was uneven, shallow, almost panicked, but not from fear—no, this was something else entirely. Your chest rose and fell erratically, anticipation building with every inch his lips traveled.

“I really want to take my time with you,” he said, his words breaking the silence. Each syllable was punctuated by a kiss against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “But—” he kissed you again, his lips lingering. “I don’t know if I can hold back.” Another kiss, softer, yet it somehow left you trembling.

Oh, fuck.

A quiet whimper escaped your lips, betraying just how undone you were. Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as you tilted your head back, giving him more access to the curve of your waist, the line of your hip, anywhere he wanted to be.

“It’s fine,” you managed to say, though your voice came out in a shaky whisper. “You can… God, you can do whatever you want to me.”

He froze for a second, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Are you sure?” His voice was quieter now, like he needed to hear you say it, really say it.

You let out an exasperated breath, barely managing to lift your head to glare at him, though the fire in your gaze was softened by the flush on your cheeks. “If you keep asking stupid questions, I swear I’ll punch you. Right in that ridiculously handsome face of yours.”

A laugh bubbled out of him, deep and genuine, the sound vibrating against your skin. His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your stomach. “Got it,” he said simply, his voice tinged with amusement.

And then his lips returned to your skin, softer now but no less deliberate. His hands slid up your thighs, his fingers tracing patterns that made your entire body hum. The tension in the room was thick, almost unbearable, as if the air itself had been charged with electricity.

You felt like you were on the edge of a cliff, your heart pounding, your breaths coming in short gasps, but the way Sam looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered, like he couldn’t believe you were real—made you feel safe, even as you were unraveling beneath him.

The space between you seemed to shrink even further, his weight pressing into you just enough to ground you in the moment. And though the anticipation was overwhelming, there was a strange calm in knowing that whatever came next, it would be with him.

His long fingers moved the fabric of your panties to the side;

“Look at her…” he murmured, totally infatuated with the way your wet and gaping pussy called for him.

“Did you just—?” you started protesting. But you were quickly silenced when Sam inserted a finger inside you.

“God, she's sucking me so good” you whined. “She's a really good girl, just like you. Think I can put one more?” he asked you, without breaking eye contact.

“I dunno– yes?”

“Mhm.” he mumbled, “That's not an answer you know?” His voice was laced with a playful tone that made you a little angry, how was it possible that you were with your legs open and so needy and he was taking all the time in the world, it drove you crazy in the best way possible.

“Come on, Sammy.” you whined softly, starting to get desperate.

“I need to get you nice and wet baby, I'm sorry.”

“No, you're not.”

“No, I'm not.” he nodded, agreeing with you. The way he's spreading your wet pussy with his fingers, moving them back and forth, opening you up for him, is making you go crazy. If this was the foreplay, you couldn't even imagine the real play.

The weight on your chest never went away, and it only deepened when you felt Sam's hot tongue licking a line up and down your core.

“Oh– fuckin’” you moaned, covering your mouth with your knuckles, biting down on them.

Sam hummed, pleased with your reactions. His tongue went deeper, exploring your soft walls, your taste was making him see stars. He could live his whole life with his tongue deep inside you and die happily ever after. You were so sweet, fuck demon blood and fuck alcohol. Your fluids were his new drug.

You pushed your hips deeper into his mouth, moaning like you were on heat.

“Fuck, just like that Sammy– There! Fucking there!” His other hand gripped your hips and held you taut to his face as he ate you brutally, his lips working like a man who has been starving for months and finally tasted something worth dying for. As he extended his mouth wide to trace his tongue from your hole up to the soft bundle of pleasure, he dragged your clit into his mouth, scraped it with his teeth, and then released it with a light slapping sound.

“God, Sammy, please. I'm so close.” You left out a cry, arching your back into the pleasure as he continued his current rhythm, pulling wave after wave of pleasure from your hot, flushed body. Your hands moved to his hair, fisting it and raising his body until you were face to face.

Your fingers traveled to his pants, where you began to lower his zipper and slowly his underwear.

“I wanna ride you, can I?” you asked, sincerely. Waiting for an honest response as if you had asked something totally normal and not the most perverted words Sam ever heard you utter.

He groaned, as an answer.

“Of course you can, God.”

With a shaky hand, you line him at your entrance and reach down to gently grab him. He puts his hand on the small of your back and rubs calming circles there to reassure you.

“You got this. Slow.” You nodded, following his instructions, sinking an inch or two onto him while your brow furrows in concentration.

As you take more of Sam, his breathing turns ragged, hitching in his throat like he’s barely holding himself together. You push yourself further, testing your limits, and in one reckless move, you take the rest of him all at once. His reaction is immediate—a sharp, breathy squeak escapes his lips, completely unbidden. His fingers dig into your hips, grounding himself, his nails almost biting into your skin as if trying to steady the rush of sensation overtaking him.

“I said slow…” His voice is strained, low, barely a whisper, but the way he looks at you with that indignant, wide-eyed expression—one you know all too well—only makes you want to push him further, to see just how much more he can take.

“‘ed help,” you whimper in a low, broken voice, the sound more desperate than you intended.

His brows furrow as he stares at you, his lips parting slightly. “What?” he breathes, his voice teetering on the edge of control.

“I need help, Sammy.”

Those words seem to shatter something in him. The way he looks at you, it’s almost reverent, like you’re something divine in his lap. His hands tighten on your thighs, his grip so firm you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow—not that you mind. It feels like a mark, a claim, like he’s trying to ground himself in the reality of you.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, and starts moving you. At first, his motions are precise, almost mechanical, lifting you up and down in a steady rhythm. But the control doesn’t last long. Within moments, his restraint begins to crack, his hands gripping harder, his breaths coming faster. His movements become rougher, more desperate, like he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach.

Before you can even process what’s happening, his arms wrap around your back in one swift, possessive motion, and you find yourself beneath him. His weight presses into you, the warmth of his body enveloping yours. His hips move without rhythm now, erratic, frantic, driven entirely by need. Every thrust feels like it’s meant to claim, to mark, to leave no part of you untouched.

The sounds spilling from him are pure desperation—low, guttural moans mixed with soft curses under his breath. You can feel how much he’s holding back, how he’s trying so hard not to lose himself entirely, but his resolve is slipping with every passing second, mentalizing all the laws of the penal code that he remembered to get a grip of himself.

“Sammy—” your voice trembles, breaking as the tension in your body coils tighter.

“I’m about to—”

He nods quickly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “Me too,” he manages to say between ragged gasps, his words broken, his voice a strained whisper. “Where do you…?”

Each syllable is punctuated by a thrust, his control unraveling with every word.

“Inside,” you moan, your voice barely audible over the sound of skin meeting skin. “I want it inside.”

The words hit him like a freight train. His movements falter for a fraction of a second, his entire body tensing as if the weight of your request has shattered the last bit of restraint he was clinging to.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, his voice a low growl, his control slipping completely.

His hips snap forward one last time, and he’s gone. He buries himself as deeply as he can, his entire body trembling as he lets go, his moans mixing with yours.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The room is filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the air between you thick with the remnants of everything that just happened. Sam’s forehead stays pressed against yours, his lips brushing against your skin as he tries to catch his breath.

You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, his body still trembling slightly as he holds you close, as if letting go would mean losing the connection you just shared. He doesn’t say anything right away—neither of you do. There’s no need for words in this moment, no need to break the fragile, intimate silence that has settled over you both.

But when he finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost hesitant. “Are you okay?”

You smile, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along his back. “Yeah,” you whisper, and it’s the truth.

Sam exhales, a sound somewhere between relief and disbelief, and leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips.

The sweet moment is abruptly shattered by the unmistakable jingle of keys at the door. Your eyes widen in panic, and your hand instinctively flies up to cover your mouth, muffling a surprised gasp.

“Sammy—” you squeaked, your voice trembling with worry as the reality of the situation crashed down on you.

Sam’s response was to nod—calmly, almost too calmly. His body froze like a statue, as if you both were suddenly prey caught in the crosshairs of a wild, feral T-Rex. His eyes darted to the door, his lips pressed into a tight line, and you swore he even stopped breathing.

The doorknob turned with a slow, deliberate click, and the sound felt louder than it had any right to be in the otherwise silent room.

The door swung open.

“Hey, guess what? Your theory was actually—”

Dean stopped mid-sentence, his words halting like the Impala's doors slamming shut. He stood there in the doorway, blinking at the scene in front of him like his brain was buffering the information. His eyes flicked from Sam to you and then back again, taking in your flushed faces, disheveled hair, and the unmistakable tension lingering in the air.

“Oh, god dammit,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Then, louder: “Fucking finally.”

You froze, your face heating to what had to be an inhuman degree, while Sam just groaned loudly, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Dean,” Sam started, his voice strained and muffled against your skin, “this… isn’t—”

Dean raised a hand to cut him off, a mix of exasperation and amusement written all over his face. “Don’t. Don’t even try, Sammy. I don’t need the details. I don’t want the details. Hell, I’m already regretting walking in here.”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything to salvage whatever scraps of dignity you had left, but all that came out was a small, embarrassed squeak.

Dean pointed at both of you, squinting like he was trying to physically burn the image of you two into his memory out of sheer spite. “You know what? I should’ve known. I’ve been calling this for years. YEARS, Sam.”

Sam finally lifted his head, glaring at his brother. “You haven’t been calling anything.”

Dean smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Oh, really? So me betting Jo twenty bucks that you two would eventually ‘work out all that unresolved tension’ doesn’t count?”

“Dean!” Sam barked, his ears turning bright red as he scrambled to sit up straighter.

“Twenty bucks,” Dean repeated with a laugh, clearly enjoying himself. “And let me tell you, that girl is gonna be real smug about being right.”

You groaned, covering your face with both hands. “Oh my God, just kill me now.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Nah, don’t worry. You two lovebirds keep doing… whatever this is. I’ll just… go burn my eyes out now.” He turned to leave but paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Sam?”

“What?” Sam snapped, clearly at the end of his patience.

Dean winked. “You owe me clean sheets.”

The door closed behind him, and you stared at it in silence, your brain desperately trying to reboot. After a moment, you turned to Sam, your voice flat. “Clean sheets?”

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even through your embarrassment. “Nope. Welcome to the rest of your life, Sammy.”

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut

305 notes · View notes

marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 year ago

Text

Auntie Row

Rowena & Winchester little sister!reader, team free will & Winchester!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Rowena has a soft spot for the Winchester’s little sister, and they get into lots of trouble together (I suck at synopsis, just read the fic it’s better)

Warnings: honestly nothing, time frame makes no sense with reader’s age but 🤷‍♀️

“Rowena, what do you think you’re doing?”

The witch looked up in surprise when the Winchester brothers entered.

“Sammy!” You, the brothers’ six-year-old sister, ran straight to your big brother and giggled when he lifted you into his arms.

“Oh, you’re back,” Rowena said, cringing. “That was quick.”

“Auntie Row is teaching me how to do magic, like Hermione!” You babbled excitedly.

“Rowena…” Dean growled in warning.

“Now now, she’s a growing girl!” Rowena defended herself. “Learning magic is a perfectly natural part of growing up.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Sam scoffed.

“But Sammy!” You whined.

“Nu-uh,” Sam shook his head. “C’mon, it’s about time you had a nap.” He carried you out without another word to Rowena, who huffed dramatically and started to gather her belongings.

“When we said you could watch Y/N—“ Dean began, but Rowena cut him off.

“I know you didn’t mean this, but honestly Dean Winchester, how d’you expect the girl to defend herself if she can’t use magic?”

“She doesn’t have to,” Dean insisted. “We’ll protect her.”

“Oh honestly, you can’t be around her all the time! If she had magic, she could—“

“For the last time Rowena; no.” Dean’s tone left no room for argument.

“Uh, guys.” Sam returned to the room with a slight frown on his face. “Y/N said she wants Rowena to continue her story from last night. She’s refusing to sleep without it.”

“Well,” Rowena smirked. “Duty calls.”

“Hey.” Dean caught Rowena by the arm, and she glared at him. “Magic always comes with a price. I don’t want her to have to pay it.”

Rowena softened.

“I understand, Dean Winchester.”

His grip slackened, and Rowena left to go to you.

…

“I have a little something for you,” Rowena said as she stepped into your room.

“Can we finish the story?” You asked.

“Of course, sweet girl, of course. But first, I want to show you something. You remember that cursed necklace from the story? The one that protected the witch from the angry mob?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded excitedly.

“Well, I think it’s time it protected someone else.” Rowena grinned, unclasping the necklace that was hidden behind her shirt and carefully putting it on you.

“Really?” Your eyes went wide as you stared up at the witch.

“Yes. That will protect you from anyone who wants to harm you. That way you don’t have to use any magic, just like your brothers said.”

“Thank you, Auntie Row,” you breathed sincerely, reverence painting your tone as you admired the glowing red jewel.

Rowena leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“You’re very welcome, sweet thing. Now, let’s finish that story, shall we?”

…

“Kiddo, please, it’s just for a few days,” Sam tried to soothe you, but you still wouldn’t let go of his leg and continued to cry. “Mary’s gonna take good care of you, I promise.”

“I could really help you guys on this one,” Mary argued.

“She needs someone to watch her,” Dean reasoned.

“And why am I the automatic choice?” Mary countered.

“You two are not helping,” Sam said through gritted teeth as he picked you up, letting you lay your head on his shoulder. He hated Mary’s distance from you; you were John’s, but not hers. He understood her reason for not getting close to you, but you were just a little kid, and you didn’t deserve that. Sam just rubbed your back, still trying to soothe you as you continued to sniffle.

“If you boys needed help, you could’ve just asked.”

The three adults turned in surprise at the sound of Rowena’s voice.

��I mean honestly, it’s not like I haven’t babysat before.”

Dean was hesitant. “I don’t know if—“

“Sounds like a plan,” Mary said, going to grab her duffel. She tossed over her shoulder, “now I can help on the hunt!”

“Am I gonna stay with Auntie Row?” You asked Sam, your eyes wide and pleading.

“I…yeah honey, you are,” Sam sighed.

“Yay!” You grinned, wiping your tears away and squirming in Sam’s grip.

“Ok, ok,” Sam chuckled, lowering you to the ground so you could run to Rowena for a hug. “It’s probably best that you guys don’t stay in the bunker.” Sam directed his next words at the witch holding his little sister. “The bunker’s system still goes a little wonky with a witch inside, so one of your safe houses is probably a better idea.”

“That works for me.” Rowena grinned. “How would you like to go to Paris, sweet thing?” She asked you.

“This is a horrible idea,” Dean sighed. But he still grabbed his bag and headed out to Baby anyway.

…

“We’re back!” Sam called as he stepped into the bunker.

“Sammy! De!” You squealed, running to your big brothers and reaching them just as they came down the stairs. Dean scooped you into his arms and held you tight, comforted to see such a happy sight after such a grueling hunt.

“Hey, what’s this?” Sam asked, noticing your outfit.

“Auntie Row took me to shops in Paris, and we got a lot of clothes!” You babbled excitedly as Dean let Sam pull you into his arms.

“You’re spoiling her, Rowena,” Dean chuckled, no longer quite so hesitant about the witch now that he saw how happy you were.

“And she deserves every bit of it,” Rowena said.

…

“Ow!”

“I’m sorry darling, but you must sit still!”

“What’s going on in here?” Sam asked curiously as he stepped into your room to see you and Rowena sitting in front of your vanity.

“I’m trying to do her hair, but she won’t stop squirming,” Rowena explained, running a little pink brush through your hair.

“It’s all knotty!” You whined.

“Well it won’t be in a minute,” Rowena said.

Sam just smiled as he watched you, finally getting experiences that you’d never had before; motherly experiences.

The more he watched, though, the more he noticed how much you were squirming, and how much you seemed to be whining.

“Hey, you seem kinda grumpy, kid. Did you get a nap today?” He asked, coming to stand beside you and Rowena.

“Yeah,” you sniffled.

“You’re kinda pale,” he muttered under his breath, getting on one knee and reaching the back of his hand out to touch your forehead. “Jeez kid, you’re burning up.”

“She’s ill?” Rowena put the brush down and turned your chair around so you were facing her, repeating Sam’s gesture and checking your temperature. “She is quite hot.”

“Hey, let’s get you into some pjs, ok?” Sam suggested, lifting you into his arms. “You should get some sleep.”

“I already had a nap!” You insisted, squirming in Sam’s arms.

“Hey Sammy, I think I found us a case,” Dean said, stepping into your room. “Something wrong?”

“She’s got a fever,” Sam sighed. “You should go without me.”

“Oh nonsense,” Rowena spoke up. “Just leave her with me.”

“I don’t want to leave her when she’s sick,” Sam argued.

“Oh she’ll be fine,” Rowena insisted. “I’ll give her some herbs and she’ll be out like a light, she’ll sleep until you get back.”

“I don’t know…” Sam sighed.

“How about this,” Rowena said. “You put her to bed, and leave once she’s asleep. I’ll watch over her, and I’ll call you if she worsens.”

“Alright.” Sam looked at you. “Is that ok kiddo?”

You nodded sleepily, suddenly not so eager to fight another nap.

“Sammy, my tummy hurts,” you whimpered.

Sam nearly melted at this, more reluctant than ever to leave you.

“I know sweetheart, c’mon let’s get you into some pjs and then you can go to sleep, ok?”

Sam helped you get dressed while Dean packed for the hunt. It didn’t take long to have you tucked into bed, and you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Sam lingered in your doorway, unsure about leaving you like this.

“She’ll be fine,” Rowena soothed the Winchester brother. “She’s asleep, and I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Alright,” Sam sighed, grabbing the bag that Dean had packed him. “Just…take care of her, ok?”

“Always,” Rowena responded.

And she did. When the Winchester brothers returned, your fever had broken and you were resting on the couch with Rowena, some cartoon playing on the tv.

“Hello boys,” she greeted when she saw them.

“Hey kid.” Sam went straight to you, brushing your hair away from your face. “Are you feeling any better?”

Rowena went to speak to Dean while you answered Sam with a distracted “yeah,” continuing to watch your cartoon.

“Her fever broke,” she explained to him. “I think it’s best if she rests a bit more, though.”

“Thank you, Rowena,” Dean said sincerely. “She really seems to like you.”

Rowena smiled. “She does, doesn’t she?”

…

“Did you have fun?” Sam asked you.

You nodded, finally pulling your gaze from the cartoon.

“Yeah, I like Auntie Row!”

Sam smiled softly.

“I’m glad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

590 notes · View notes

lokigonnakmsforbucky · 2 years ago

Text

Dean Winchester NSFW Alphabet

We made sammy one, we gotta make dean one! This was also requested by an anonymous user! Enjoy!

Rating: MINORS DNI!! 18++

Warnings: Its NSFW thats a warning enough;)

Like my spn posts? Ask to be on the tag list!

GIF NOT MINE

Check out my masterlist

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Dean is definitely a cuddler, He is always holding you and making sure you are okay. You come first in his mind.

B= Body part (Their favorite body part on themselves and their partners.)

Dean's favorite part of his own body is his smile. He knows he could get what he wants in seconds with one flash of it. On his partner he loves their thighs and mostly when they are around his face ;)

C=Cum (What does he do with it. I AM disgusting)

Dean loves when he sees his cum all over you. Your face, your stomach, but he loves it when it drips out of you.

D=Dirty talk (How much do they dirty talk?)

This Man's mouth is DIRTY, he could get you on your knees in no time.

E=Experience (how experienced are they?)

Dean is definitely experienced to say the least, so rest assured he knows what he is doing.

F=Favorite position (goes without saying)

Cowgirl- Dean is a SUCKER for this position. He loves when you take him how you want him, plus a face full of tits? Yes please.

Doggystyle- Dean loves looking at you taking him, pounding into you to show you who you belong to.

G=Goofy (how goofy or how serious they are in the moment?)

Dean can be goofy or serious. Depending how you both feel or the heat of the moment.

I=Intimacy (How are things during the moment, romantic aspect.)

Deans eyes never leave your body, his hands are on you at every moment.

J=Jack off

Dean gets off at least 4 times a week, his sex drive is high and when he isn’t around you he has to release that frustration. Maybe even calling you for some sexy phone sex ;)

K=Kinks

Dean loves to be dominant with you, but what a lot of people don’t know is that he loves to be dominated by you. He loves when you take control over him and take what you need.

He also has a knife kink… he doesn’t get why he does but just the thought of having it out against your skin or his skin… he loves it.

L=Location (where you guys would do the deed)

Dean would do it anywhere you would be game to do it at, but his favorite is in Baby the sweet 67’ Impala…. Mostly when you give him road head.

M=Motivation (what turns him on, or gets them going)

Dean loves seeing you in his flannels… plus eating pie, having whip cream all over your face? He is ready to pounce.

N=No (Something they wouldn’t do, or turns them off.)

ANYTHING that hurts your or puts you in harms way. You are his world, he won’t let that get hurt.

O=Oral (do they like giving, receiving, both?)

Dean LOVES giving you head, eating you out like a cherry pie. Your his fav flavor though.

Dean loves when you give him head, it relaxes him instantly.

P=Pace (Are they slow? Fast? Rough?)

Depends on Deans mood, he loves taking you rough and fast. But he loves being nice and slow.

Q=Quickie (Their opinion on it, how often would they have one)

Dean is always up for quickies, anytime you both need one he is up and ready.

R=Risk (Are they risky)

In deans line of work, risk is dangerous. But if your down…so is he.

S=Stamina (how long can you last? How many rounds?)

Sessions with a Dean are long, hot, and heavy. You can take 3 rounds but Dean… he can make you do as many rounds he wants.

T=Toys (Do you guys own toys? Do they use them?)

You guys explore with vibrators and sometimes restraints.

U=Unfair (How likely would they tease?)

You would be the one that would be a tease, Dean would definitely have his way with you later ;)

V=Volume (How loud are they)

Dean breathes heavy, low growls and grunts

X=X-ray (what’s going own down there)

Dean is beyond average…he is definitely bigger than most guys.

Y=Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

Deans sex drive is VERY high, you can’t deny that.

Z=ZZZ (how fast he would fall asleep)

Dean would wait till you were taking care of and asleep before even getting comfortable. You come first.

1K notes · View notes

midnightdahlias · 12 days ago

Text

Sparks of the Apocalypse

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

summery - you decide to go visit Bobby but are suprised by a certain stranger word count - 1.7K cws - fem!reader, pure fluff, mentions of violence (if you squint) lmk if i missed anything a/n - hope you enjoy this, sammy my beloved. I apologise for any mistakes, english isn't my first language. BUT I hope you like it either way and again any feedback is appreciated ! as are rebloggs and comments. happy reading !

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Being a hunter sucked sometimes. Scratch that, it sucked most of the time. You were always on the road, bouncing between crappy motels with peeling wallpaper and water pressure so bad you wondered why you even bothered showering. It wasn’t glamorous. But after a long day of getting tossed into walls and dodging claws or teeth, you’d sleep on the hood of your car if it came to that.

Still, there were moments. Rare ones. Like now. When you’d get a break long enough to drive to the only place that ever really felt like home. Bobby’s house.

Bobby Singer was, to put it mildly, a godsend.

Bobby had a reputation among hunters as the go-to guy. Need lore? Call Bobby. Fake supervisor for a cover story? Bobby’s your man. Need someone to vent to? Bobby would listen, grumbling all the while. Over the years, you’d grown close to him. He’d known your parents before you, and when they were busy chasing monsters, he’d looked after you. Bobby was more than just a friend, he was family. You always thought he’d have made a damn good dad. Though in many ways, he already was one.

After a particularly grueling hunt, you decided to head to Bobby’s, you needed more than a beer and a chat. Ever since the apocalypse started, it felt like every supernatural creature had lost its mind. Things were kicking into high gear, leading to longer nights and more close calls in a week than in your entire career. Oddly enough, you thrived under the pressure. Sure, the extra cuts and bruises were annoying, but it was the apocalypse, it was never going to be margaritas on a beach.

As you pulled into Bobby’s driveway, a sense of comfort and relief washed over you. The place always felt safe and welcoming, though you weren’t sure if that was because of the house itself or the man who lived there.

A black Chevrolet Impala sat parked outside, a car you didn’t recognize. Wonder who that belongs to, you thought, but you didn’t dwell on it. All you wanted was to kick your feet up and crack open a cold one.

Knocking on the door, you expected Bobby’s usual grumpy greeting, but today the door creaked open to reveal… definitely not Bobby.

Stood in the doorway was a younger man. The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was, towering over your smaller frame. His soft hazel eyes caught your attention next, followed by his sharp but delicate features and the semi-long hair brushing just below his jaw. There was no denying it, he was handsome. For a moment, you stood frozen, your words caught in your throat. “Uh, hi. Who are you?” he asked, blinking down at you like he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

You cleared your throat, trying not to stare. “Hey. Is Bobby home?” Not answering his question. ome would call it paranoia, you called it precaution but as good-looking as this stranger was, you weren’t about to share your name with someone you didn’t know.

He tilted his head, clearly debating whether or not to let you in. Before he could answer, Bobby’s familiar grumble echoed from somewhere inside.

“What’s takin’ so long? Who’s at the—oh.” Bobby wheeled into view, his grumpy expression softening when he saw you. “Well, I’ll be damned. Kid, get in here.”

You smiled, stepping inside to hug him. “Miss me?”

“Not really,” Bobby deadpanned, but you caught the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I would’ve called ahead,” you said with a smirk, “but since I never do, I figured why start now?”

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. “Smartass.’’

Behind him, the tall guy was still standing there, looking amused. And at somepoint during your greating with Bobby, a second guy had appeared. He was shorter than the other, he also had green eyes and a cocky smirk. Great, you thought. Who are these guys?

“Who’s this?” the newcomer asked.

“This,” Bobby said, gesturing to you, “is one of the best damn hunters I know. And a lot more sensible than you two idjits, I’ll tell ya that much. Sam, shut the door before we all catch pneumonia.”

Sam.

You’d heard that name tossed around a lot lately, along with his brother’s. Hunters and monsters alike seemed to have plenty to say about the Winchester brothers, especially Sam, none of it good. But standing here now, looking at Sam, he didn’t seem dangerous or evil, just tired. Hurt, even. But as your eyes caught his, there was something else there aswell, something you couldn’t quite place.

Bobby’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Sit down, kid. Beer’s in the fridge. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

“Feels like it, too,” you muttered, plopping down on the couch.

Over beers in Bobby’s living room, the four of you swapped stories. Dean was charismatic, cracking jokes as he recounted close calls from past hunts. Sam, though quieter, was kind and insightful. You caught yourself glancing at him more often than you intended, and each time, you found his eyes already on you.

When Bobby suggested ordering food, you volunteered to cook instead. It was rare to get the chance to make a proper meal, and you weren’t about to pass it up. Bobby’s kitchen wasn’t exactly stocked, so a quick trip to the store had been necessary, but you didn’t mind so much, you liked cooking, it gave you a sense of calm.

You were halfway through chopping vegetables when you heard a soft voice behind you.

“Need a hand?”

You turned to see Sam hovering in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, a small smile tugging at his lips, looking almost… shy?

“Sure,” you said, handing him a knife and some vegetables.

You worked side by side, exchanging small talk to fill the silence. Normally, you were confident around men, but something about Sam made you nervous, in a good way. A different kind of nervous than the one you’d expect to feel around someone who’d let Lucifer out of his cage. His presence was calming, his smile disarming.

When your hands brushed as he passed you the cutting board, you froze. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you like static electricity. Your breath hitched as a faint blush crept over your cheeks, but you quickly turned back to the stove, hoping to shake the feeling. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, trying to push it all down. You weren’t usually this affected by anyone, let alone someone you’d just met.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam was just as affected. Behind you, he stood just as still, his heart thudding in his chest, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

From the moment he opened the door, he’d felt drawn to you. The way you spoke, the warmth in your laugh—it all felt oddly familiar, like you belonged here.

In the next room, Dean leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show. He nudged Bobby with a grin. Not even trying to hide his amusement.

“You seeing this?” he whispered, nodding toward the kitchen.

Bobby shot him a lookover his glass of whiskey. “They’re like a couple of deer caught in headlights,” he muttered. “Painful.”

Dean chuckled under his breath. “Think we should do something? You know, give ’em a little push?”

“Hell no,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks.

Back in the kitchen, you worked in tense silence, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Sam’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced up, there he was, watching you with an intensity that sent another wave of warmth crawling up your neck.

Normally, being stared at like that would’ve set you on edge, but Sam’s gaze wasn’t threatening. There was something soft about it, it was sweet, and that made it so much worse.

He cleared his throat suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Uh…anything else you need help with?”

His voice was low, gentle, and it only made your heart trip over itself again. You turned to him, forcing a casual smile despite the fluttering in your chest. “Nope, I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks, though.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

It was such a small, awkward exchange, but it left you rattled. You found yourself hyperaware of every move he made, the way he leaned against the counter, the way his hair fell in his eyes when he glanced down.

And Sam? He wasn’t faring any better. The sound of your voice, the way your lips curved when you smiled, it was like you’d bewitched him without even trying. Though he wasn’t about to start complaining

In the next room, Bobby and Dean exchanged another knowing look.

“Think they’ll figure it out on their own?” Dean asked.

Bobby took a long sip of his drink before answering. “Doubt it. But watching ’em try sure is entertaining.”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

masterlist

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #bobby singer #spn #oneshot #fluff

125 notes · View notes

shotgunswansong · 7 days ago

Text

we know dean has slept with many, many people but when he finally sleeps with sam (probably somewhere between seasons 3-4) he cannot get over how much better it is, how more real and intense and euphoric it is, how every sound and touch is so heightened, like he's on drugs, like he's seeing the world in color for the first time, because it is both so familiar and completely redefined. he's been edged for over two decades and now he takes and takes and takes and god it's the most powerful sequence of sensations he has ever felt. no denial, all selfishness, because this is his sammy who wholely and completely belongs to him, is an extension of him. in a sense it is the most hedonistic sex he has ever had. almost mastubatory (he doesn't view sam as a separate being from himself, from his own body).

#wincest #shotgun originals #dean winchester

95 notes · View notes

reigningqueenofwords · 9 months ago

Text

Impossible

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 1,117 Request: @smoothdogsgir reader finds out she’s pregnant after Dean’s run in with the Hellhounds, She stays with Bobby and is there when he comes back 4 months later, both getting a nice surprise.

Read on AO3

Dean had been up front with you after he made his deal. You’d been seeing him for six months at the time, and he wanted to give you an out. You fought all weekend about it. He wanted you to go and live your life. You wanted to spend his last year with him.

You’d won.

As the clock ticked closer and closer to the deadline, your stomach sank. You knew this was coming, but how did you prepare for something like that? The answer was simple. You didn’t.

Having been sick, you stayed back while the boys went on a last ditch effort to save Dean’s soul. You argued that you needed to be there, you had to be there. He’d kissed you deeply, tears in his eyes, and told you he loved you. Then, he’d walked out the front door. The second you heard the roar of the Impala, you fell to the ground, sobbing.

When you’d heard the door open, you had no idea how much time had passed since he’d left. You had been in a trance. Sam walked in, bloody, and crying. You lost it all over again, clinging to him. He’d lost a brother, and you felt as if you’d lost your soul mate.

At first, neither of you spoke all that much. It was hard on both of you. Finally, it was you who broke. You’d realized you’d missed a couple periods, and went to get a pregnancy test. Figuring it was all the stress the three of you had been under. Which would also explain you not even noticing.

Two weeks to the day of Dean’s soul being dragged off by hellhounds, you took the pregnancy test. You took it as soon as you woke up, still sleepy. You didn’t have to wait the three minutes. The positive came right away. You were pregnant. With Dean’s baby. Dean, who’s soul now belonged to hell. Who would be tortured, and would never know of his unborn child.

Covering your mouth, you sobbed, your other hand going to your stomach. It felt like you lost him all over again, only now you would have a reminder for the rest of your life. You’d look into a child’s eyes, and think of that heartbreaking good bye. How would you explain that to your child? That their father wasn’t there, because of a deal he made.

You walked out of the bathroom looking pale, wet streaks down your face. If Sam hadn’t known better, he would have thought you were a ghost. “I’m pregnant, Sammy.” You breathed, not looking up. Saying them out loud brought on another bought of tears.

Once you’d accepted that you were pregnant, you quit hunting. However, you weren’t comfortable enough (or financially stable enough) to go out on your own. So, you packed up your little car, hugged Sammy good bye, and drove to Bobby’s. You had called him and explained everything, sobbing over the phone. Without a hesitation, he opened his home to you.

It was an adjustment for both of you, but after some time, things went smoothly. You started helping out with research as much as you could, helping clean, and running errands for him. In return, he helped you clean out a spare room, and revamp it into a nursery. He’d become like an Uncle to you, and you were beyond thankful to him.

Before you knew it, you were six months pregnant. You’d been a bit late on getting into the ultrasound to find out what you were having- you should have gone the month before, so you were excited to reveal to Bobby what you were having. Pulling up to the front of the house, you grabbed your purse, and the ultrasound pictures, before sliding out of the car.

“Bobby!” You called out as you opened the front door, eyes on the pictures. “So, you owe me ten bucks. I’m having a girl!” You laughed. Looking up, you screamed and dropped everything. Your eyes went wide. “BOBBY!”

Dean stared at you, his eyes going to your rounded stomach. “Baby?” He breathed.

Bobby rushed out and sighed. “Idjit. I told you to stay back.”

“You didn’t tell me she was staying here.” Dean snapped.

“Am I going insane here? Because…that can’t be Dean.” You pointed at Dean.

“I’ll explain in a minute, let me get these for you.” Bobby said, crouching to get the pictures and your purse. “Here.” He handed them to you. “Come on, I’ll get you a glass of juice.”

Nodding, you followed Bobby, looked at Dean as you passed. He looked like your Dean, but that was impossible.

“That’s Dean?” You asked, tearing up. Bobby nodded. “How? He’s been dead for four months!”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t even know. Something pulled me from hell.”

You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking your juice. Your feet were up on another chair, your hand resting on your stomach. “I need to process this. I’m going to lay down.” You sighed, putting your feet down and getting up.

The two men watched you go, and it was Bobby who spoke up first. “She’s six months pregnant. Baby’s yours.” He said quietly. “She was barely holding it together when she got here. Finally, as time went by, and we started working on the nursery, her mood seemed to improve. She still cries herself to sleep some nights, but not like before.”

“She said she’s having a girl.” Dean told him.

“Go on, ya idjit. Go comfort her.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” He gave him a small smile before heading upstairs.

You were laying on your side when you heard your door open. Without looking, you knew it was Dean. “I’m sorry I walked out, Dean. It’s just a hard thing to process.” You said quietly.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m back from the dead, that would be a lot for anyone.” He said as he quietly closed the door. You heard his boots hit the floor as he took them off, smiling slightly to yourself. “My first thought was getting to you. I figured the best place to start was Bobby’s. If anyone knew where to find you, it’d be him.” Feeling the bed dip, you closed your eyes. “I didn’t think I’d come here, find you, and get the shocking surprise that we’re having a little girl.” The emotion was clear in his voice. He laid behind you, his face in your neck, his arm around your waist, and his hand on your stomach.

Your fingers laced with his moments before she kicked. “I think she knows Daddy’s home.” You said quietly.

You felt him smile. “Daddy’s home, and he’s not going anywhere.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester oneshot

208 notes · View notes

lambmotifz · 4 months ago

Note

You always have such good takes on Wincest. Could you write your thoughts whether you think Dean would ever rape Sam? And why?

generally speaking, rape is about degradation and control. truth be told, i don’t think we can say no to that question. it’s very much blatant canon that sam’s consent isn’t the first thing on dean’s mind when it comes to seeking control over him he desperately craves, or keeping him alive, or punishing him. he locks sam up to “fix” him. he degrades him verbally and physically during the demon blood addiction era, and wants to punish him after. bearing that in mind, make their dynamic sexual and i think the answer becomes obvious. you don’t have to dig deep to understand it because canon couldn’t be more unsubtle about dean’s obsessive love and the way he sees sam (as something that belongs only to him) and the lengths he’s willing to go to keep his control over him. this is exactly what makes him different from sam. sam loves dean and needs him but he’s not possessive or obsessive on dean’s level. he said it himself: “i guess i’m not that smart” when dean told him tables turned, he would (and has) let sam rot in the panic room. dean’s obsession is violent and all consuming and he can’t control himself when it comes to sam. he will always need to have him all for himself and sam be his pure, submissive little brother forever, his sammy. as much as he wants to protect sam, these particular urges towards him are ones he can’t seem to control

#tw r*pe #honestly one of dean’s best character traits is that he will never be able to protect sam from his own violent urges towards him #“we hurt the ones we love the most”#but i don’t think he would do something so unhinged to sam until after he came back from hell #s4-5 dean is much more violent and desperate for control than s1-3 dean #sam winchester #wincest #samdean #spn

67 notes · View notes

transchesters · 5 months ago

Text

the first time sam wears a dress.

dean had been a boy from the moment he was placed into his mother’s arms as a baby, even though the doctors proclaimed otherwise. even mary knew, when she looked into her child’s eyes, that he was a boy.

and as he grew, mary was proved right. dean threw aside anything with bows or skirts, but his eyes, still filled with wonder at the time, would light up at the blue t-shirts with dinosaur print and the torn up jeans. so deanna turned to dean, and john accepted it as it was. he knew his wife, knew she wasn’t delusional. and when mary got pregnant again, the thought of another boy running around the house with little dean as an older brother filled their hearts with warmth.

maybe sam was too young for mary to know any better, to know that her second son was actually her only daughter. maybe if she had lived past sam’s six-month birthday, she would have dressed her in the little dresses dean had detested.

but mary was dead, and john didn’t care what the hell his boys’ thought. what mattered was raising two hunters, trained to take down the things that ruined their lives. and sam picked up on that at a young age, and kept the deepest parts of herself, *to* herself. all she knew was her older brother and her father; she never got a chance to see any femininity in her life. her life, which for as long as she remembered, was guns and training and learning all the lore.

now, sam is fourteen. now, she is curious about the girls she meets at one school or the other, all with long hair and pretty skirts and colored eyelids. now, sam doesn’t know what’s wrong with her and why she longs for those things.

dean had been out on a supply run with their father, leaving sam to study or do whatever reclusive nerds do in their free time. sam was told to stay home by both dean and john, and they expected her to do exactly that considering most of the time, she was a perfect, obedient son. but could you blame her for wanting a bit more? to want to explore her curiosities and find out what they mean?

so she went to the local thrift shop in their current, rundown town. just to look, that’s all! that’s at least what she told herself as she walked inside and made a beeline for the women’s section.

sam felt close to panicking as she yanks a pale green dress from the racks and rushes over to the cashier. she offers some vague comment that it’s *”for my sister,”* and quickly paid and rushed back to the motel.

it’s late when dean and john return. john retires to his own room immediately, grabbing a beer and bottle of whiskey on the way. he leaves dean to unload supplies and tuck them away wherever they belong in the impala, before he’s shambling into his shared room with sam.

sam, who is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, gazing intently at herself, turning this way and that to watch the flowy dress twirl around her. she’s so lost in her mind that she doesn’t look up until dean slams the door shut, staring at her with wide eyes.

“dean! i-i, uh, i was just-” sam rambles, stumbling over her words as she quickly yanks the dress over her head, balling it up and holding it behind her as if dean will forget she was ever wearing it. “i just thought it was cool, it’s nothing, i swear! please— please don’t tell dad.”

dean feels stupid very suddenly. has he been ignoring obvious signs, similar to ones he showed when he was yonguer? a well of grief opens up within him, one he has worked very hard on squashing into a tiny ball and shoving it in the back of his mind. he misses his mother, and wishes desperately that she were here to help him say the right things.

the look on dean’s face is unreadable as all of this passes through his mind, at least until he remembers to soften it. until he offers sammy a smile. “it’s cool. i get it.”

the words do nothing to quell sam's panic. she shuffles out of the bathroom, keeping the dress clutched tightly behind her as if revealing it to dean would incite some unknowable rage. she is already the freak of the family, the one who wants nothing to do with the guns and the hunting and the moving town to town. and now, she’s a boy who wears dresses. she doesn’s even have the vocabulary to express the fact that she doesn’t feel like a boy at all!

“i'll get rid of it,” she mutters, shoving it under her bed, scrambling to grab one of dean's hand-me-down shirts and pulling it on.

“sammy. it's okay.” dean steps foward as his words still seem to do nothing. he grabs sam's shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “stay,” he states, before he takes a step back and begins to pull off his shirt. sam's face is screwed up, a mixture of confusion and distress, but watches nonetheless as dean drops his shirt to the side, revealing his chest, wrapped in the bandages from their first aid kits as usual.

“i guess i never really explained this to you,” dean mumbles under his breath, scratching at the bandages which make his whole upper body ache, but make his skin crawl when they aren't there. sam fidgets uncomfortably as she stands before her brother, shifting from foot to foot. she doesn't understand what he means, and he *hates* not understanding.

“can we just drop it, please?” she whines, averting her eyes as suddenly, dean begins tugging the bandages from his chest.

“look at me, dumbass,” dean grits out, because he doesn't have the words to explain this any better than just showing sammy.

maybe if things were different. maybe if mary was still here, they would have learned about this together. and when sam finally felt like sharing how she felt, they would be able to explain it to her together.

but mary is dead, and dean doesn't know what he is or what sam is other than winchesters'.

sam lifts her eyes finally when dean tells her to, and it's like she's seeing his brother for the first time. sure, she has seen dean naked before. they've shared a room forever, lived in impossibly small quarters, sometimes just the impala's backseat when john was too tired or drunk to find them a place. dean’s chest was different than his own, but he had never really thought about it. dean was a boy, and sam was a boy, and he never knew anything other than that.

until now.

sam’s eyes well up with tears as she finally understands. she and her brother are the same, yet different. she understands, and she feels understood, and it's so entirely overwhelming that she can't help but sniffle and wipe at her wet eyes.

dean rolls his eyes, his cheeks heating up as he yanks his shirt back on. “knock it off, sammy,” he grumbles, but there is a note of fondness in his voice he can't help. “it's fine. we'll deal with it.”

they both know it's going to suck. dean was lucky to look boyish enough that he passed pretty well. under his dad's big jacket and his oversized, thrifted clothes, no one questioned him. but sam thinks it won't be quite the same for her. and what is she supposed to tell her dad?!

perhaps those are questions for another time.

when sam pulls the dress back on under her big shirt and crawls into bed that way, dean doesn't say anything. when dean wraps his chest again, sam looks away. she wonders if the bruises lining his sides hurt. she wonders why their bodies are the way they are, both itching for the other's skin. why must sam’s chest concave when dean wants nothing but a falt chest? why must dean hide curved hips under baggy jeans when sam wishes she had anything besides her stick-like figure?

the sibilings go to sleep, a little more in tune with the other, and a little bit sadder for the other.

#i can’t keep this in my notes anymore #idk if this is anything but here u go #transchesters #nico’s drabbles #transmasc dean winchester #transfem sam winchester #supernatural #spn #spn fic

92 notes · View notes

lenoue · 23 days ago

Note

What do you think about Dean and Lucifer and the bond they have with Sam? Dean is Sam's brother and in his mind Sam's keeper, he doesn't like it when Sam lies to him or doesn't share everything with him, Sam doesn't tell him everything, and he's bothered/frightened when Sam leaves him. But Lucifer spent years with Sam, more than Sam and Dean could ever spend together, Sam was made for him and he was in his head, hallucinating and reminding him of his destiny. Who knows Sam best? Would Dean lose his mind if he found out that someone else was spending more time with Sam? How do you think he would deal with the fact that Sam's existence is set up to belong to someone else?

"sam's existence is set up to belong to someone else" thanks anon I'll be thinking about this all day now

im actually unsure which angle to approach this one from so I'll answer the questions first

who knows sam best?

- controversial answer, neither of them. on the surface, yes lucifer knows sam best by the virtue that he has been inside the physical body and mind that makes sam. he understands sam because they spent a long time in the same prison room.

the issue is, both dean and lucifer analyse sam using the standard of the role they want him to play.

sam to dean is brother, maybe brother and not brother. it all depends on how much sam retains qualities that make him sammy and how much he's willing to bend over for adjustment. everything he knows and understands about sam, he views it through a lens of Sammy.

sam to lucifer is a vessel and not a vessel. he understands sam's actions, motivations and reasonings through the parts he can connect with, he can understand. he understands betrayal, he understands feeling othered. significantly, lucifer is an archangel. he does not understand human nature. he cannot connect to sam on any grounds except the one's he picks at chooses.

also important to mention that these two men have a tendency to twist sam's mind around when they see him being unsure. they're both opportunistic. whenever sam speaks his mind, neither of them listen to him. they're just waiting to get their word in.

Would Dean lose his mind that someone spent more time with Sam?

- If you notice, dean doesn't ever acknowledge the time sam spent in hell in specifics. (tbf, no one does. we dont actually know if cage time lag was the same as hell time lag). dean would absolutely lose his mind if he had to confront this reality. this is a hold he can never compete with. he believes that sam's entire time in the cage was of torture and pain and perversely, i think he'd prefer that over the alternative.

he doesn't know that sam and lucifer have a level of connection. he wasn't privy to those interactions. he knows sam and lucifer spent more time, he just doesn't believe it can hold over his and sam's relationship.

.... Sam's existence is set up to belong to someone else?

- so delicious <3 so i think canonically it eased the process for him to find out about being michael's vessel, come in terms with the reality of being born for that purpose. his point of contention wasn't the claim itself, it was the idea that sam would willingly "fall into" lucifer's arm the way he "fell into" ruby's.

dean has a mile long bravado that says he can fight any branding claim off sam's skin as long as he can keep his teeth dug deep. if sam shook him off, that's how he'd lose.

But dean's experience as a vessel had also been,, highly impersonal. corporate even. if he found out about how personal sam's been with lucifer, the conversation, the seduction, yeah he'd have lost his mind.

he'd have dug up sigils to repel lucifer and inked them into every possible inch of sam's skin

he'd have castiel dig into sam's mind when he's sleeping to make sure lucifer isn't speaking to him there (the answer was yes, dean takes liberty to add double espresso shots in his coffee)

he'd never let sam go anywhere alone. the paranoia of sam sneaking off with ruby returning 10 fold

and he'd talk sam into staying in the panic room, shackled to the bed when he'd have to leave.

Ultimately, there are a number of ways we can parallel Dean and Lucifer in regards to Sam. the blatant objectification aside, both relish in knowing that sam was destined to be at their side. lucifer is gleeful, dean is righteous.

But, where Lucifer loses is that he doesn't understand one thing about Sam, that maybe even dean doesn't. but dean reaps the benefit of it. Sam chases redemption like a drug. and there is no one he feels he has wronged more than dean.

#sam winchester #dean winchester #lucifer #meta #spn #sam&cage #wincest #samifer #ask

46 notes · View notes

kwinsispn3 · 5 months ago

Text

Charms

summary: through the years — the Winchester’s little sister’s good luck charm, ends up being a bit of a tradition.

Word Count: 4,214

Winchester boys x sister!reader

Warnings: blood, death, angst, sorry about the italics, idk what I'm doing??

The youngest Winchester, y/n, was welcomed into the family a little bit later than expected. Y/n was 3 when her mom died, and had no one else to go to but her father and two brothers. It was a few years after John had died too, when Dean got a call from one of John’s old phones in the glove compartment. And there she’s was on the other line.

It had been a few months after y/n had been living with the boys. It was tricky for everyone to adjust. Sam and Dean would do anything for her at the drop of a hat, but they all found it difficult to connect at first. Y/n was struggling to feel like a part of the family. She had lost the only adults she knew about in her short life, her trust had been taken away from everything it felt like. Sam and Dean had treated her nothing but kind since the day they found her, and deep down she knew they wouldn’t hurt her, but time would tell.

It was late at night, Dean couldn’t sleep. Going to reach for his headphones, they weren’t in the side table drawer where he normally puts them. He arose, flipping on the desk lamp across the room, starting to look for them quietly, when he came across a box. The box where he always kept special things he couldn’t lose. Photographs of him and Sammy as kids, their mother, different trinkets that held a memory. Dean flipped through a few photos, admiring them sadly under the light of his lamp. Looking down into the box he saw a glaring piece of silver at the bottom. Picking it up, he gazed at the charm bracelet that belonged to his mother. The charms shined in the light as they swayed side to side.

Sam approached the desk in the motel, about to speak as he sees him, but stops. “Hey, uhh. You busy?” He asked stepping closer.

“No, just couldn’t really sleep” Dean says as he packs the things back in the box.

“What’s this, is this mom’s?” Sam asked, sliding the bracelet over to his grasp.

“Yup.”

It was y/n’s 10th birthday and it had been a rough year. Another new school, y/n wasn’t staying with Bobby as much anymore since she was older and could stand the long car rides with Sam & Dean. Girls were starting to be mean at school, y/n felt alone most of the time, because she was left alone. In school, and back at the motels they stayed at. The boys felt for her, being so young, constantly exposed to the childhood they had. They didn’t expect that they would ever being doing what they were doing, but they wouldn’t give up on trying to give their little sister the life she needed.

The brothers made it home from finishing up a hunt just in time for y/n’s birthday. They had brought home her favorite food, and desserts. It wasn’t much, but they wanted to show her some appreciation for all of her patience. After finishing up dinner, Sam started to clean up the table. “Alright, looks like it is almost your bedtime.”

“Really? Even on my birthday?” Y/n playfully pouted.

“Your beauty sleep is more important!” Sam smiled back. “Especially being a weeknight. But we will pick up the festivities this weekend, because we’re leaving town!” Sam blurted out without thinking about how that sounded.

Dean looked at him and back at y/n, knowing her reaction wouldn’t be excited. Sam realized he had messed up by saying it so soon, they had meant to break it to her the next day, after her birthday.

“You mean, I have to leave this school, and go to another one?!” She sighed in disappointment.

“Well, yeah. But… we can go wherever you’d like to, on the way to—“

“No, you both said we’d be here for a while.”

“Y/n—“

“Just stop!" The room fell silent. "I know this is what you guys do, but I hate having to move again and again."

"Look, I know you do. It isn't fun for us either, but that's how we.."

"Get our job done, I know Sam." y/n finished his sentence, looking down at her hands.

"What's wrong, y/n/n?" Sam asked, studying her face.

"I just told you." her voice got more quiet. "You sure? You just... look like somethings on your mind." Sam stated. There was a long pause, y/n shuffled around and then looked up at her brothers. They both had that look on their face like they were waiting for her to let out whatever she was thinking.

"How do you guys always know!!?" She threw her arms down in frustration. Trying to stay mad but also wanting to break down from all of the inner turmoil. The boys both half smiled, Sam sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, motioning for y/n to sit down.

"It just gets scary sometimes..... not knowing when you're gonna come back. Boring too. I just don't want you to forget about me." y/n let out a deep breath.

"Sweetheart, you know we'd never forget about you. We look forward to coming back to you after every job." Sam reassured. Y/n let out a half smile, hearing the same line before. "I know."

It was times like these where Dean would always think of his mother. Even though y/n wasn't his mothers daughter, he knew if she were still around, she'd know exactly what to say in moments like these. The two boys were almost left with a loss of words until Dean thought of the perfect thing. He stood up and went outside to the car, rummaging through the trunk. He came back inside with a box in his hands. Going through it, he picked up Mary's bracelet and sat down next to y/n.

"This was... our mom's. I think she would have wanted you to have it." Dean hooked the charm bracelet around y/n's wrist. It felt a little odd to her, knowing Mary was not her real mom.

"Are you sure? I mean, she..." y/n tried not to come off sounding rude, but Dean knew what she was trying to say.

"I know, but trust me. We hung onto it for a reason. All of these charms mean something special, and as long as you have this with you... you will always be protected. And you will always, be apart of this family." Dean held her wrist, emphasizing it's importance. Y/n rotated her wrist, admiring all of the charms.

She smiled bigger, looking up at them. "Thank you."

Dean said nothing, instead bringing his sister in for a hug. Sam raised his eyebrows, blinking away his watery eyes from the moment he just witnessed. Running his hands over his face, he sat down, and embrace his siblings into one.

It was y/n's first official hunt. She had just turned 14, and had proven to her brothers that she could take care of herself... as long as she stayed right by their sides. Y/n had been studying, not just in school. Every chance she got, she was prying information from Sam or Dean about hunting. Practicing how to use different forms of defense, and being on the look out for anything. She now had finally gotten herself into the real deal.

The three of them walked through an abandoned farm property, looking for any hidden rooms, since the rest of the house was suspiciously clear. "We should go check the barn out back." Y/n whispered. "Okay, but for now, you stay here." Dean whispered back.

"Why? there's nothing here. We've looked everywhere and there is no nest." y/n stated.

"Well, that's what they want you to think, but it wasn't at the last house so it's gotta be here."

"Shhh!" Sam spat. Hearing a crash from somewhere in the house.

Everyone froze, being as still and quiet as they could, trying to listen for any noises. It was silent, until a floorboard creaked from behind Dean. He jumped around, but before he could strike, everyone was knocked unconscious. None of them got a chance to see what hit them as it was too dark.

Y/n woke up in a cold and dark room. The floor was cement, and the walls were stone, it was likely a basement room. Shortly after coming to, she heard the ceiling above her creak and the walls too. Footsteps thudded on the floor outside of the room she was in, and she heard the ceiling creak once more. Y/n panicked, and resumed her position on the floor where she woke up, pretending to still be knocked out.

The door flung open, she squinted her eyes the most she could while trying to look asleep. A dark figure walked over to her, she could see another figure behind him, holding the door open. She was suddenly lifted off the floor, her body limp and hanging in the grip of whoever was holding her.

"Nope, still out. Let's give it another hour." A deep voice spoke. They let go of y/n's body, letting it thud back to the floor. The two figures left. Y/n sat up slowly, feeling the ache from being thrown onto cement. 'A ladder?' She thought, seeing one against the wall outside the door. One set of footsteps walked away, another set sounded like they were climbing the ladder, as the wall creaked again.

Y/n listened closely to the creaks and heard the ceiling again, 'a trapdoor!' It had to be. It sounded like it was just above the door to the room she was in. After listening for a while, it grew quiet again. Y/n got up and tried opening the door, no luck. It was locked. Y/n knew she had to alert her brothers somehow, wherever they were. For all she knew, they could be in another locked room themselves.

Sam and Dean both woke up in the barn that was behind the house. Dean sat up abruptly in the hay, looking around for y/n once he spotted Sam. "Y/N!!"

"She's gotta be somewhere in that house. C'mon!" Sam hurried.

The two men walked through out the house again, pacing every room back and forth, looking for anything they could have missed. "Dude, I can't find any levers, or buttons... no hidden doors. Fuckin squat!" Dean was starting to get worried and pissed, not knowing how long they were out and how long y/n had been separated.

Sam, stepped on something uneven. Raising his foot, he looked at the dark floor and saw a bit of silver shining in the moonlight. He picked up the object, which happened to be y/n's charm bracelet.

Dean looked at Sam holding up the charms, stunned to say the least. "That ain't good, we need to find her, quick." Dean started, rushing past Sam, ready to look wherever he had to.

"Wait! Dean look...." Sam kneeled down, taking in the details of the floor they had completely missed. They had been walking all over it this whole time. "Dean, it's a trap door!"

They both kneeled down and found a flat switched embedded in one of the floorboards. Sam pressed the switch, a square in the floor creaked open, revealing a hidden basement. "Let's go."

Sam and Dean came across a long hallway, that went in two directions. Both sides of the walls had doors to other rooms. "She's gotta be down here." Sam whispered.

"That probably means the nest is also down here." Dean huffed with worry.

The two split up to start checking the rooms. Dean started with the door next to the ladder that led them down there. He busted it open to find y/n sitting on the floor. "Y/N! Thank god, are you okay?" Dean sighed in relief.

"I'm fine.... did you find my clue?" she asked hopefully.

"Your clue??"

"Yeah, I slid my charm bracelet through the floor."

"You did that? How... what..... I'd love to hear how you came up with that later, because I think you led us right to the vamp nest." Dean smiled proudly.

It had been 5 long days since y/n went missing. Of course, Sam and Dean hadn't stopped for anything until they found her. They had not slept, barely ate, there was no breaks, no stopping. They had grown tired after searching almost every lead they had.

The two sat at the table in their motel room in silence, too irritated and exhausted to say anything unless it was important. "I'll be back." Dean stood up, grabbing his jacket.

"Where ya going?" Sam asked.

"To look for y/n".

Sam sighed. Dean always blamed himself if Sam or y/n were in trouble. No matter the situation.

Dean pulled up to the school where the first kid went missing. Putting the car in park, he got out and walked around the campus, trying his best not to look suspicious. School was still in session despite the mysterious disappearances, which made it hard to investigate. Y/n was a big help in the case, being able to blend in as a student, until she went missing too. Sam and Dean had checked all the surrounding places that had a connection, yet, nothing.

Dean circled the courtyard, eyeing the buildings, trying to think of literally anything, when he remembered... The old building behind the school. The one that wasn't in use anymore, they were planning to knock it down soon. It made so much sense now, they were hiding in plain sight. He picked up his phone to dial Sam, letting him know to meet him over there as he picked up the pace on his way over to the building.

Dean scanned the area around him, making sure no one was looking before approaching the front steps. The front doors were boarded shut, he tried to make them give but had no luck. He circled the building to the back door when he noticed a shine catching his eye.

Y/n's charm bracelet sat in the dirt and gravel near the back door. He picked it up with care, and put it in his pocket. Dean was able to get in the building, it was full of mold and broken down old school supplies. He walked down endless hallways, looking through every door until he found y/n. Handcuffed to an old radiator on the ground. Rushing over, he shook her gently, trying to wake her up.

"Dean!" Sam called out from a distance. He stood up and poked his head around the hallway. "Hey! Did you find her?" Sam asked frantically.

"Yeah, I got her. Help me find some of the other kids." He said as he rushed back to y/n. Her head and arms had dried up blood all over them, and looked as if she was dragged through dirt.

"Y/n, c'mon sweetheart, wake up." she slowly nodded, with fluttering eyes, becoming more alert once she saw Dean.

"oh my god, Dean!" She spoke softly, reaching out for him but was stopped by the cuffs. "One sec, I got it." He assured.

Once she was free, she gently wrapped her arms around him. "You found me.... I was worried you wouldn't." Her eyes welled with tears.

Dean held her shoulders and reached into his pocket. "Baby, I will always find you." He said as he hooked her bracelet back onto her wrist. She sniffled a heartwarming smile back at him.

Sam and Dean stood in front of y/n, and also y/n. The 3 of them were hunting a shifter, and it had taken y/n's form. Now it was down to which y/n was the real y/n.

"Guys. c'mon it's me! Trust me." y/n whined.

"Stop! No, I'm me. I know it's hard to tell right now but it's really me!" y/n also whined.

"Here...." y/n slowly kneeled down and placed her gun on the ground. The other y/n still clutched her gun tightly. A determined look set in her eyes.

"I wouldn't hurt you guys. You know that." she stood up slowly without the weapon.

Sam and Dean gazed between the two versions of their sister. "I'm not sure you can keep that promise." Sam spat. Y/n lunged at Sam as he pulled the trigger. She fell to the ground, all 3 of them stood frozen for a second before seeing the body start to melt. They all let out a heavy breath.

"Thank you, for not shooting me." y/n snickered, lowering her gun. "How'd you know?"

Sam reached for her wrist. "Guess it wasn't able to replicate your good luck charm." He smiled at the charms on her bracelet.

It happened so fast. None of them saw the last one that hid behind the corner. A shot rang out, the bullet snuck past Sam who held his gun up. He fired his weapon, taking out the last guy. He let out a greedy breath, looking over at Dean who gave him the same relieved look.

"Nice one, brother." He patted his shoulder. "You too y/n." Dean and Sam looked behind them, only to jump when they saw y/n clutching her stomach hunched over.

"Y/n!? You okay? Lemme see...... umm, okay c'mon. We gotta go." Dean said frantically after seeing all the blood soaking through her shirt. He lifted her up, carrying her to the car and placing her in the backseat.

"Hang on, y/n." Dean kept calling out from the drivers seat, while Sam reached back, holding onto what ever grip she had on him.

"Sammy..... I can't...." Y/n sounded breathy. Holding her palm over her wound.

"Yes you can, just hold on a little longer for me, okay?" Sam hoped his words would help motivate his sister to find strength. They couldn't lose her, not like this.

Dean peeled into the emergency room lot, barely parking the car. The two men jumped out of the car, rushing to the backseat. When they opened the door, y/n was slumped over on her side, unresponsive.

"Y/n, c'mon wake up, look at me." Dean patted her face, holding her in his arms. Nothing.

As they carried her through the doors, it felt like a blank blur of people bombarding them, saying words. Dean froze as Sam called out for help, telling the nurses what happened. Then he felt people tugging y/n away from him. As they started to wheel her back, Dean grasped her hand.

"Sir, please let go, we need to get her medical attention."

Normally, he would've fought to stay with her, but he froze again. Letting go of her hand which then flopped to the side of her.

Sam and Dean waited an excruciatingly long 3 hours before someone came asking for them. A doctor came out and ushered them through the doors.

"Is she okay? What's the deal?" Dean asked impatiently. All the doctor said was 'come with me' so they assumed he was taking them to her. He remained quiet and led them down the hall, motioning them to step into a room. Once they both saw it was an office, they expected the worst.

"Please, have a seat."

"Doc, not trying to be rude, but I've been sitting for 3 hours. I'd rather not wait any longer. How's our sister?" Dean said straight to the point.

The doctor took a deep breath, folding his hands. "Y/n suffered some really bad hemorrhaging from the bullet wound. Once we removed the bullet, we couldn't stop the bleeding...... she stopped breathing a little while before that."

"I'm sorry, but she didn't make it."

Neither of the boys took it well, especially Dean. He refused to believe anything after that, he kept saying 'no' to everything the doctor said.

"Um... is there any way we could still see her? y'know, say our goodbyes." Sam hesitantly glanced at Dean.

"Yes, of course. Give us some time to prepare her. In the meantime, I would start discussing arrangements for-"

As soon as Dean heard that, he turned around and walked out.

Sam stayed and waited until he was able to see y/n. The nurse left to give him his privacy. As soon as he saw her, he broke. Slowly walking over to the bed with tears blurring his vision, he kneeled down and picked up her frail hand. He cringed at the fact that it was still warm, but that warmth was fading. Sam eyed her charm bracelet that was still on. He pinched the charms between his fingers, rotating it around.

"I'm sorry..... I'm sorry we couldn't...." Sam trailed off. Wiping away his tears, he looked at his sister for a while. Taking in her features, trying to permanently memorize what she looked like when she smiled, laughed, looked at her brothers with her big y/e/c eyes.

"I love you."

Dean had stormed out of the hospital. He felt like raging against all evil that had ever existed, so upset he could flip a car. He had always imagined he'd go like this, but not his little sister. Only 20 years old, and it was all taken away from her, from him, from them. Dean didn't know what to do or where to go, so much was going through his mind. He opened baby's driver door and sat inside, letting the silence consume the vehicle for a few moments before speaking up.

"Cas..... we could really use you right now."

.....

"Y/n is dead. And... she shouldn't be. I know it's a lot to ask, but this is y/n we're talking about."

.....

"Cas...?" Dean sat a while longer, waiting, waiting for Cas, or a sign. Anything.

"Please, Cas. I'll do whatever I have to, I'll sell my soul, I'll make a trade. I don't know, anything."

Still, nothing. No response. Nothing.

Sam walked outside to the car since Dean wasn't answering the phone. He saw him sitting in the car and slowly opened the passenger door, getting in next to him.

Neither of them said anything at first.

"Uh, she's in there, whenever you're ready." Sam tried to hide his sniffles. Dean stayed quiet.

"This isn't the end." He finally spoke up.

"What?"

"She's not dead for good."

"Dean, we can't make another deal like that, if that's what you're thinking. It just leads us into more problems."

"Sam, this is y/n! I don't give shit what I have to do."

Sam stopped there, he knew it wasn't a good time to reason with Dean. He needed to give it time.

"Here." Sam held out his hand. He placed the object in Dean's hand. Dean opened his palm, now holding y/n's charm bracelet.

"What are you doing?!" Dean raised his tone, agitated.

"What do you mean? I-"

"Why did you take this off of her!?" Dean growled.

Before Sam could say anything else, Dean opened the door and stormed back into the hospital. Sam followed, delaying himself a little bit to give Dean some space. He was hoping this would give him some time for closure.

Dean's anger led him into y/n's room a little fast. He slowed his vigorous pace when he saw her. He slowly approach the bedside and sat next to her, gently hooking the charms around her wrist once more. A tear escaped his waterline when he looked up at her, not receiving the smile she always gave him. He squeezed her hand in his, lowering his head with the gesture. Dean sat there for a while in thought, when her hand started to feel different. Almost as if it was less limp. He squeezed it some more subconsciously, but this time felt her hand clench underneath his. He shot up, looking at y/n confused.

"y/n?" Her chest rose up and fell heavily as her body took a breath. "Y/n!?"

Sam overheard and peeked in. "Dean, wha-."

"Get the doctor, now!" He flipped his head around. Sam nodded and ran out confused.

Y/n's chest was now rising and falling in a rhythm, Dean kept saying her name and sweet things. Then her eyes slowly opened.

"y/n!" Dean let out an overjoyed cry. "Oh! sweetheart...."

"help... owh." y/n managed to wheeze out, trying to catch her breath.

"Dean.." she caught a gaze of him. He smiled and fixed her stray hairs on her forehead. "It hurts t-t much." she breathed out, then doctors flooded into the room with Sam close behind.

"Y/n!!?" Sam breathed out as he caught sight of her.... alive.

The doctors started giving her oxygen, medicine and checked her vitals. Dean backed up to give them space to work. "Dean! no.." y/n mumbled.

"It's okay, I'm right here! I'm not going anywhere."

Sam pulled him aside. "Dean! What did you do?"

"Nothing! I swear! She... she was gone when I came in, and then..."

"Cas."

"So, Cas did this?"

Dean nodded, looking back at y/n.

All the commotion died down, y/n was stable. The doctors were confused as hell, but ruled it out as a medical miracle, and were pleased to inform Sam and Dean that she'd be alright.

"So, who do I thank?" y/n asked.

"Cas." Dean smiled.

"Glad to have you back, kid." Sam grinned.

"Me too.... gotta love my good luck charm!" she smiled, jingling her bracelet around.

#spn #sister winchester #sister!winchester #sister!reader #spn fan fic #spnfandom #winsister #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester

63 notes · View notes

concreteburialplot · 5 months ago

Text

𝒲𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 🌸 // 02

02 - I Can See You

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Masterlist: Here | Crossposted: ao3 | Word Count: 8.9k | Playlist: Here

Summary: After bumping into the boy who saved you from being locked out of your dorm, he whisks you away on an adventure to a bar you shouldn’t even be allowed in. Drunkenly, Sam invites you to a get together with his brothers. The anxious energy at the gathering has you questioning the invitation’s intent.

Warnings: (unknown) mutual pining, one bed trope technically, hint of forbidden twin?, very soft, sweet sammy, underage drinking, weed, jake being jake, unrealistic college experiences?, feelings of inadequacy, ~new crush anxiety~, 18+ MDNI

A/N; thank you so much to anyone who read part one, it makes me so happy to know it was enjoyed so much 🩷

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does not reflect any members of the band or their real lives/actions/etc. - i hope you like it 🥲💞🌸 smut next chapter promise

Vibes this chapter;

-I Can See You - Taylor Swift - Close To You - Gracie Abrams - Maroon - Taylor Swift - Fallingforyou - The 1975 - So High School - Taylor Swift

The moment consciousness seeped into your body, you jolted upright, your heart racing like a shot of adrenaline straight to your system—a perfect substitute for caffeine. Your eyes scanned the room within a millisecond only to have the throb of a hangover remind you of how you got there in the first place. You immediately looked beside you on the mattress even though you felt no presence there. The bed and the room were empty. The edge of your lips inadvertently downturned at the lack of him. Your eyes landed on the bedside table, finding a note there.

Mornin’ -

Help yourself to some snacks or some green

Hope to see you around, Wallflower ❀

-Sam :)

An embarrassingly wide grin crept across your lips and butterflies began to run rampant in your tummy. If the note itself wasn’t enough, the little flower doodle made your heart soar. You instantly tried to stifle it down, he was just some boy you met at a party. He didn’t make any moves on you and treated you only as a friend. You barely knew each other. You were nothing special to one another - at least that’s what you told yourself.

Once ready to get out of bed, you stripped off the rust-colored shirt you’d borrowed from him the night before, folding it into a neat square on his dresser. You changed back into the stained shirt that his had temporarily replaced just to be clothed enough to walk across the hall to your room.

The notepad that seemed to belong to the note on the bedside table sat next to the boxes of incense on the dresser. You took it upon yourself to write him a note back.

Hey -

Thanks for the shirt and for saving me last night.

See you across the hall! haha

-Wallflower xx

Weeks slipped by without a single sight of him. You thought he must really spend all his time at Danny’s, because despite living on the same floor, you never saw him coming or going. Each day, as you walked down the hallway to or from your room, you’d glance toward his door, just hoping to catch even the briefest glimpse of him. But every time, there was nothing—no sign of him at all. It was as if Sam had vanished into thin air.

The longing gnawed at you, filling you with the prickling rush of a high school infatuation. It was that same eager anticipation you used to feel while lingering around a crush’s locker, waiting for that fleeting moment when your worlds would briefly collide. The anticipation, the nervous energy that hummed through your veins—it left you with a familiar ache of wanting to see him, even just for a second. It felt almost insane to be so desperate to run into someone you’d met only once, but it was maddening how he seemed to occupy every corner of your mind, refusing to be forgotten.

You were beginning to wonder if Sam had just been a figment of your imagination until an hour before closing the on-campus café, when a familiar face walked up to the counter. When you looked up at him, his grin grew wide.

“Wallflower!” He exclaimed.

A peachy tint coated your cheekbones at the fact he remembered the nickname he’d given you. “Hey Sam.” You tried to keep your voice level to not seem overly enthusiastic, but inside there was a flurry of excitement. “I haven’t seen you around much.” You kicked yourself for mentioning it, thinking he may find it creepy that you noticed.

“Ah yeah, I take night classes, so my schedule is all fucked up.” He shrugged.

“Oh, that makes sense.” You said in realization since you mostly took morning classes. It was no wonder you never ran into each other with your schedules flipped.

He ordered an iced chai and watched as you swiftly threw together the ingredients without a second thought. “You really seem like a pro at this.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess.” After throwing a lid on the cup, you slid it to him.

“Hey, when are you off? I’m thinking of heading to the bar after this, wanna come?” He plucked a straw from the container full of them then smacked one end on the tabletop until it ripped through the other.

“About 30 min-“ Your head tilted a bit. “You’re a freshman, aren’t you? How are you getting into a bar?” You asked skeptically.

A smug smirk tugged at his mouth and shrugged nonchalantly. “I have my ways.”

“Oh, well I don’t have a fake ID or anything like that…” You trailed off suddenly feeling the excitement of seeing him again drain from your body.

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said I have my ways, I know people. I can get you in no problem.” He paused. “If you want to, of course.”

“Okay.” You nodded, still not fully convinced but you weren’t going to pass up on an invitation out with him.

Upon arriving at the off-campus bar with Sam, you’re immediately overwhelmed. The bar was tiny, grungy with red neon lights adorning the outside. Posters of music artists, new and old, were plastered all over the walls. It was packed, people bustling and flowing in and out the front door. All Sam did to get you both in was show up. All the staff seemed to know him and didn’t blink an eye when he ordered you both drinks. You chose a lime margarita while he chose a beer.

“Where are your friends?” You asked looking up at him before taking a small sip of your neon green beverage. You wrapped your cardigan around your body as a way to soothe your social overstimulation.

He looked at you a bit funny before outstretching his arms, “Well, look around!”

You giggled and did as he instructed. In a way he was right, just about everyone in the room seemed friendly with him but not necessarily his friends. You nudged his arm with your elbow, “You know what I mean.”

“First of all,” He used his free hand to cover the area you had just gently poked. “Ow! That hurt.” He exclaimed teasingly. “Second of all, did I say I was meeting friends?”

You reflected on the earlier interaction, initially perceiving it as him meeting up with friends and you merely being an afterthought. But as you reconsidered, one phrase stood out in your mind: "I can get you in no problem, if you want to, of course." It replayed over and over, taking on a new significance.

He could clearly see the hoops you were jumping through in your mind, and it brought a grin to his lips. His hand tentatively found your wrist to gently ground you enough to regain your focus back to him. “I asked you to come here with me, not them.” He said simply, like it was as easy as breathing but it hit you in the stomach like a punch.

Blood flooded your cheeks bright red, “Oh,” You didn’t know what to think nonetheless what to say. The last thing you wanted to do was misinterpret what he was implying and make a fool of yourself. “I see.” If it had been any other man, they might’ve taken your curtness as a rejection or grown insecure, but not Sam. He just gave you a smile and said, “Good.” before taking a sip of his beer.

He led you into the back corner of the bar where the pool tables and games were located. “You wanna play some pool? Test out those tricks you learned a couple weeks ago?” He asked but your eyes were elsewhere.

A large grin pulled across your lips with a brightness filling your eyes as they returned to him. “What about darts?”

His eyes flickered with uncertainty before pulling into a smile, “Sure, why not! Loser buys the next round.”

“Deal.” You happily went to gather the existing three darts on the board and brought them over to the boy. You offered them up like a gift in your hands. “Here ya go.”

He put his hand up and shook his head, “No, no ladies first.” He was being polite, but it just seemed like he was unsure of his abilities.

You positioned yourself in front of the dartboard, feeling Sam’s gaze on you as you prepared to throw. The light hum of bar chatter faded to the background as you focused, the dart cool in your hand. Your fingers curled around it just right, and with a smooth motion, you threw. The first dart landed solidly within the outer ring—not perfect, but decent. You turned to glance at Sam, flashing him a playful smile before grabbing the second dart.

As you lined up your next shot, you made sure to take your time. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you, watching your every move. With a small flick of your wrist, the second dart hit closer to the center this time—just barely off the mark from a perfect shot. You gave him a small, satisfied smirk, the competitive spark in your eyes unmistakable.

For the final throw, you felt a playful and buzzed surge of confidence. Turning to Sam with a smirk, you gave him a challenging glance. “Ready to see how it’s really done?” You asked with a teasing lilt in your voice. Then, with another smooth, more controlled, flick of your wrist, you released the dart, watching it land just shy of the bullseye, so close that you could almost feel the victory in the air. You stepped back, letting out a breath of satisfaction. “Your turn,” you said, stepping aside and offering him the darts with a grin. "Good luck."

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay, show off,” he sassed, clearly amused but a little more nervous now. He stepped up to the line, eyeing the board with a serious expression that only made you grin wider.

“C’mon, Sammy,” you teased. “Don’t tell me you’re already nervous.”

He glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Worried? Nah. Just making sure I don’t embarrass myself too much in front of you.”

Your cheeks felt aflame, the statement could’ve definitely been meant in a friendly way, but it made your heart race. Just the idea that he was conscious about your perception of him was almost enough to make you spiral into what-ifs.

Sam took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders like he was about to face a real challenge. He stepped forward, aiming carefully. The bar's warm lighting cast shadows over his features, giving his usual confident expression a touch of apprehension. He threw the first dart—landing just shy of where your first shot had landed.

"Not bad," you teased, crossing your arms. "Think you can do better?"

His lips twitched, that competitive edge sparking in his eyes. He glanced at you briefly before throwing the second dart, this time hitting dangerously close to where your second shot had been. "There we go," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Guess the pressure's on now, huh?"

Sam smirked, his eyes finding yours as he prepared for the final throw. "Always is when you're around." The words were light, but there was a certain tension beneath them, a weight that made your heart skip a beat. His focus shifted back to the board, and he released the third dart—this one just a hair away from the bullseye.

You let out a mock gasp, stepping closer to him as if to inspect the board. "Well, look at that! Seems like you could actually win."

He leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. "Could?" he echoed, his voice low, teasing. "Sounds like you're doubting me."

Your smile softened, feeling the heat of his presence next to you. "I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, and for a moment, the world outside of this dart game seemed to fade. It was just the two of you, standing close, the air charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. You wondered if it was just the alcohol rushing through you or if it was real, and more than anything, you wondered if he felt it too.

You and Sam continued playing, the competitive energy between you both lighthearted but persistent. With each round, Sam improved slightly, his throws becoming steadier and more consistent. But despite his best efforts, you managed to stay ahead, winning both rounds with just enough of an edge to keep teasing him about it.

By the end of the third round, it was clear that you had the upper hand, your score pulling ahead with each set of darts. Sam finally threw his last dart, which landed just shy of the bullseye, and turned to you with a mock sigh of defeat. “Alright, you’ve officially beaten me three times in a row, I think it’s time to call it.”

You laughed victoriously, the burn of alcohol warming your skin and allowing your real, unbridled self shine through. “Fuck yeah!”

“Damn, beat my ass in pool and darts, gonna beat me in poker too?” He joked. “C’mon I owe you probably the most expensive shot on the menu.” Sam knew he’d lose to you the entire time. Not only because he really sucked at darts but because he just wanted an excuse to buy you a drink without it being an overtly romantic gesture.

While a shot wasn’t necessarily what you wanted, who were you to deny Sam of anything. You were certain that he could convince you to do goddamn anything with those big hazelnut eyes.

One shot of tequila turned into two, two turned into three until you were four shots deep, giggling at the bar with Sam over any and everything. With a new margarita in your hand and fresh beer in his, you both found yourself in the back corner again, this time on a leather couch. Your thighs and hips sat flush with each other, and it was all you could think about. Warmth radiated off of him and seeped burning heat into your side. You were aware of any and all movements beside you and your hazy mind worked hard to decipher them. Sometimes it felt like he was flirting with you and other times he’d act like a friend. This confusion wasn’t made any easier when he dropped his arm around your shoulders.

Little did you know that Sam was feeling the same way, sensing a nervous pit in his stomach as he picked apart every expression and reaction you gave him. He paid extra attention to when he attempted to flirt with you, he noticed that your cheeks would redden but you wouldn’t flirt back. He was just as confused as you.

You both were nervous, confused and excited. As much as Sam wanted to rush it, he wanted it to play out organically to see if you felt the same.

All the alcohol from the night was making you tired so when you leaned into Sam’s touch, it didn’t register that you could be overstepping. Sam froze but wasn’t upset about your sudden affection.

“Sammy.” You hummed against his shoulder, letting the smell of his herbally cologne fill your nostrils. “You smell really good.”

He let out a breathy laugh and wrapped his arm further around you, pulling you closer. “Yeah? You like it?” He asked, looking down at you with a soft smirk.

“Mhm. It’s perfect.” You looked up and giggled as you booped his nose. “Like you.”

If you had been sober, you would’ve been mortified of your own actions but drunk you only noticed how his tan cheeks turned pink. He looked so cute with rosy cheeks.

“Oh,” He laughed down at you. “You must be very drunk.”

“Nuh uh!” You protested sitting up, using Sammy’s thigh for support. He was immediately extremely aware of your hand placement but was trying his best not to think about it too much. “You had the same amount to drink.”

“I never said I wasn’t drunk, silly.” He stated proudly, “Just that you,” He booped your nose back. “Are definitely, very drunk.”

You pouted at him before letting your defenses fall, giving way to your fatigue. “Sammy, I’m sleepy.” You informed with a bit of a slur. “Bed. Must get to bed.”

Before he could respond, you were up and marching for the door - you had a mission and you were going to accomplish it. Sam gathered your cardigan and purse for you and hurriedly followed you out of the bar. “Hey, wait up!”

Once Sam caught up to you, the two of you stumbled through the night like only tipsy college students could, winding your way through the streets back to your dorms. You trekked through the quiet streets, making your way home with a mix of laughter and slurred songs. You sang whatever pop song was dominating the radio, your voice loud and uninhibited. Despite Sam's earlier claims of hating mainstream pop, he somehow knew every word. You both belted out the chorus together, the melody echoing in the still night air.

You skipped ahead, dancing and twirling under the streetlights, your carefree energy infectious. Sam, though a little more reserved, couldn't help but smile as he watched you. He wasn’t necessarily a reserved creature normally but even wasted he was nervous to make a fool out of himself in front of you. Sam mostly watched with a fond smile, occasionally giving in to your playful antics and joining in—whether it was a spontaneous spin or a goofy dance move—he couldn’t help it, you were addictive to him. Not so much like a drug, but more like a new favorite latte to be craved every morning. He didn’t mind getting lost in you; he was happy just being there with you, letting himself be swept up in whatever fun you dragged him into.

Once you reached your dorm room door you fell to your knees dramatically, “Nooooo!” You shook your fists at the sky over another sock on your door.

He giggled at your theatrics, “Does she do this often?”

“AUGH.” You groaned and fell flat on your back. “Only every other fucking day.” You exhaled and blinked at the dust-coated ceiling.

He held out a hand to help you up, which normally would take no effort, but your exaggerated movements were obstructing the ease. “C’mon let's get you into a bed.”

Once on your feet again, his hands found your hips to push you forward and it sent a chill down your spine and a heat between your legs. Even in your heavily intoxicated state, you were extremely aware of just how large his hands were and how they enveloped your hipbones completely. The way he guided you to his room reminded you of that first night with him, though you were much less drunk then. When inside, the now familiar scent of marijuana and patchouli filled your nose, and the dim lighting comforted you.

“I don’t even wanna know what you’ve been doing all these nights while you’re locked out of your room but,” He opened the top drawer to his desk, grabbing something that hung by a little white disc. “You can always just come here, since I’m gone most of the time anyway.” He shrugged, holding it by the disc in front of you between two fingers.

“Oh, I absolutely can NOT take that.” You pushed his hand back towards his body.

Sam rolled his eyes with a smile and reached towards your pants, gently pulling your pocket open and dropping the key in. “Don’t use it if you don't want to but,” He paused, taking a moment to look at you. “I want you to have a safe space to go to.”

Your heart swelled so big in your chest that you feared that your ribs might crack. His chocolatey brown eyes were so soft and genuine, and most of all concerned. The idea of Sam not only trusting you enough to give you his key but doing so because of his concern for you, made you want to melt into the floor. Which is exactly what you did.

Your knees buckled and you fell onto the ground once again in dramatics. You sprawled out flat on the carpet with your eyes locked on the geometric tapestry hanging from the ceiling. He chuckled and towered over you with his hands propped on his hips, “You done now?”

You blinked up at him. “Why would you do that?” You whined more of a statement than a question.

“Do what? Give you the key?”

“Make me like you.” The words danced out of your mouth effortlessly, so much so that your drunken brain didn’t even register what you said.

The smile that pulled across his lips was so glorious, so beautiful - it reminded you of morning sunlight shining down on fresh, dewy grass. Sober you would definitely be filling your brain with 68 different ways he was too good and far too gorgeous for you – but right now, you just admired him and his presence. He reached over to grab his pipe and a lighter before sitting down criss-cross next to you on the floor.

“You like me?” He asked with a soft smirk as he brought the pipe up to his lips and lit the lighter to spark over the herb. As the green burned, he inhaled a deep hit, held it, and exhaled a smokey cloud above you.

You turned your head to him with a smile wide enough to hurt your cheeks and nodded. “Sure. Maybe.”

He kept his grin like he was satisfied with your answer. The anxiety he felt before melted away just a bit. His own heart was full from your slight confession but still aware that you were heavily intoxicated. The admission filled him with both hope and apprehension. He offered the glass pipe over to you, “Want some?”

You waved it away, “No, no. If I get crossfaded, I’ll throw up.” To which he quickly retracted his arms and his offer.

“Please don’t puke on my floor.” He teased before setting the pipe back on his nightstand.

After a bit of silence, he cleared his throat, “So, um,” He sounded nervous to continue his inquiry. “My brothers and I are having a movie-day-get-together thing this Friday, would you wanna come?”

You tilted your head at him, your stomach dropping a bit in anxiety at the idea of being in a room full of people he knows, not just his friends, but his brothers. Nonetheless, a soft smile spread across your lips, “Sure, Sammy.”

He let out an involuntary giggle, he loved the way his name sounded in your voice, “Cool.” Abruptly, he pushed himself off the ground and held a hand down to you. “C’mon, you said you wanted a bed, remember.”

“Mmmmmm yeah but the floor is comfy too.” In your drunken state, it felt like heaven.

“Don’t make me pick you up, because I will.” He warned with a pointed finger, to which you just stuck your tongue out to like a defiant child.

“Fine, hard way I guess.” He shrugged before leaning down and scooping you up into his arms with one beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck for stability. Time seemed to slow as you watched him focus on getting you into bed - he was breathtaking, glowing even. You weren’t sure why he was radiating but you bathed in the sun rays he beamed. His wavy brunette hair framed his face perfectly, cupping his jawline with a small curl inward. All of his angles were sharp which contrasted tastefully with his plump lips and soft eyes. If there was a blueprint to what a man should look like, it was definitely him. You weren’t religious but you were convinced that some god up there must’ve crafted him perfectly, sculpted him into the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.

You were falling in love, and you didn’t even know it yet.

“Sammy.” You mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into his arm as he set you down. “Don’t leave. Sleep.”

He chuckled, crawling into bed behind you. “Wasn’t planning on it, Wallflower.” He whispered gently, turning his body towards you.

He muttered something along the lines of ‘oh shit the light’ before reaching over you carefully to click the lamp off. As he settled back into his original spot, he accidentally ended up closer to you. Before he could move away, your sleepy body instinctively grabbed his arm, pulling it around your waist. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy but your warmth was too inviting to resist. He quickly melted into the spooning position, holding you close as sleep began to overtake you.

Sam stayed awake a little longer, savoring the warmth and closeness. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed this—being able to hold someone, feeling a comforting connection. It had been a long time since he’d had a girlfriend, and while he often saw his brothers and shared platonic affection with friends, it wasn’t the same. Cuddling had always been the part of relationships he cherished most, even more than sex. As he snuggled into you, and you unconsciously pressed back against him, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a while. Whether it was just a drunken gesture or something more, it didn’t matter right now. It simply felt good to hold someone again.

Your sleep riddled eyes slotted open slowly to warm light seeping in and gentle music playing. When your eyes finally adjusted to the light, you saw Sam lighting incense and dancing a bit to music you didn’t recognize.

“Morning.” You said gently as not to startle him, which proved useless since he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He placed a hand on his heart, “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” He then readjusted to lean against his dresser in a ‘cool’ way, “You didn’t uh, see anything did ya?”

You giggled, bringing the duvet over a yawn. “You mean like you dancing? Nooo didn’t see any of that.” You replied teasingly.

“Whatever, forget what you saw.” He waved you off and went back to trying to get the incense lit after being interrupted. The lighter flicked a couple times before finally igniting and catching the tip of the scented stick.

“Already forgotten.” You smiled into another yawn and stretched, pulling the muscles in your shoulders and arms.

You suddenly got a rush of ‘I need to go home’ when you realized you were still in last night’s clothes but relaxed the second you realized that your room was just down the hall.

“You hungry? I ordered some food that should be here soon.” He grinned, hesitantly. “I didn’t really know what you liked or if you’d be awake so I just kinda ordered a bunch of stuff.” He laughed bashfully. “I was also a little high when I placed the order so…”

You chuckled at him, “Yeah sure, I could use something to soak up all this alcohol.”

Soon after there was a knock at the door with the food. You watched Sam greet the deliveryman who he already seemed to know, and tipped him a $20, which you thought was extremely generous until you realized just how much food he ordered.

He turned to you with an expression that embodied both shock and embarrassment. “Okay so maybe I was really high when I ordered.”

You both laughed as he set down four bags of food for the both of you. While it was true that he had been quite high when he ordered, he also hoped that he’d pick something from the menu that would entice you to stay a bit longer.

He plopped down on the floor in front of all the food, starting to separate all of the transparent containers. You soon met him on the floor on the other side of the mountain of food. “What is all this stuff?” You questioned, not recognizing the green branding.

“It’s my favorite little bistro, Rose & Lentil! You’ve never been?” He pulled out what looked like a smoothie bowl, something pudding-like, a mixed salad and some grainy pancakes. You never expected a boy like him to be eating anything other than junk.

“No, I’ve never been, but it looks yummy.” You half lied. “What’re you gonna eat?”

“Hmm, I was thinking either the açaí bowl or the chia seed pudding. But if you want either of those, by all means.” He kept hands off all of it until you chose.

“I was actually gonna ask for the pancakes so that’s perfect!” You hungrily reached over to grab the container and brought it to you.

Sam opted for the açaí bowl, informing you that it was actually his favorite breakfast food, aside from regular pancakes. The ones he’d ordered were whole grain pancakes, but they ended up being delicious regardless - that or you were just starving.

Breakfast was full of jokes about the previous night’s events, with both of you laughing over the silly moments and playful mishaps. As you sat across from him, the conversation flowed effortlessly, each joke and shared memory bringing another burst of laughter. Everything felt so easy and natural with him, like slipping into a comfortable routine. But even amid the lighthearted banter, there was a small, persistent flutter of anxiety in your stomach. It was a twist of nerves that you couldn’t quite shake, a subtle hint of the deeper feelings lurking beneath the surface.

As you watched him move around some blueberries at the bottom of his clear container, you were suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude. You were thankful that this stranger attended that frat party weeks ago and that he spotted you. You were so grateful for his kindness; you didn’t know what you would’ve done these nights being kicked out of your dorm. But mostly, you were thankful for his friendship. Katie was a decent friend and roommate, but she was absent most of the time and you hadn’t made any other friends. If it didn’t sound so lame you would’ve thanked him verbally for spending time with you. Being away from home was lonely and it was nice to spend some time with a friend. You weren’t sure if this little flutter in your heart would actually lead anywhere but if anything was for certain it was that you’d find any way to make sure he stayed in your life, even if it was just platonic. No matter how much the idea of platonic hurt to think about.

After breakfast you said your goodbyes and slipped out of his room and back into your own, quietly, in case Katie was sleeping or still had company. Thankfully, the room was empty, and you could decompress in solitude. You pressed yourself against the back of your door and took a deep breath. All Sam did was be kind to you, and you were already smitten with him. How could you not be? With beauty like his you were surprised he didn’t have a jealous girlfriend kicking you out of his room. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back replaying the night. Suddenly, a vague memory arose, of him wrapped around you as you fell asleep. Heat filled your cheeks and the tips of your fingers at the thought, and you wondered if you had just imagined it. Regardless, you now felt the absence of him around you, and it was a feeling you didn’t like.

But you stuffed down the sensation as much as you could, he probably was taken or uninterested in you in that way. With how pretty he was there was no way that he’d be interested in someone as mediocre as you thought yourself to be. He probably dated the most beautiful girls on campus, and you believed you definitely weren’t one.

A week later, you arrived at the address Sam had given you and craned your neck up to the skyscraper-esque building. Sam had called this an apartment building, but it was definitely a condominium. You didn’t even know there were condos on the outskirts of campus, but you went to a prestigious university so, it would make sense the rich kids lived here. Which surprised you because you never even suspected Sam to be a “rich kid”, he was just, Sam.

After a long elevator ride, you reached the 7th floor and stood in front of a white door adorned with a gold number paired with a letter, 7C. You shift back and forth on your heels and grip the straps of the tote bag hanging on your shoulder. After exhaling a deep breath, you mustered the courage to knock your knuckles against the door.

You’d briefly met all of his friends already except for the brother that owned the condo, but you hadn’t met them yet. Not sober anyway.

The door suddenly swung open only to reveal a boy with shaggy brown hair and a giant, toothy smile on his face.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed excitedly and you wondered how he knew it was you even though you’d never met before. The boy just a bit taller than you wrapped you in a big hug. Your brows furrowed a bit at the gesture, seeing as again, you’d never met before.

You chuckled nervously, “Josh? Right?”

“The one and only!” The grin never leaving his face. “Welcome, welcome!” He announced, spreading his arms wide. “Make yourself at home, grab a drink, enjoy yourself!” It was then that you realized he’d been holding a beer the whole time. “Oh, and please take your shoes off at the door, thank you!”

“Thank-“ You began but he had fluttered away before you had a chance to finish.

You could hear the bustle of the other boys in another room which is where you assumed Josh had run off to. You took in the condo as you were left alone. It was spacious with an open floor plan. Floor-to-ceiling windows filled the room with dim light from the cloudy day. Everything was white with abstract art decorating any sparse areas.

Josh must’ve promptly informed Sam of your arrival because he appeared quickly after his departure.

“Hey Y/N,” He smiled softly, and you took note of his reserved cadence and the fact he didn’t greet you with your nickname. He wrapped you into a half hug, which after Josh’s bear hug seemed small. You felt crazy for noticing the tiny differences in behavior when they probably meant nothing.

“Hey Sam.” You smiled shyly and gave him a small wave. The interaction seemed so… new, and stale, when you’d been hanging for a bit and even at the beginning, he hadn’t been like that. It settled a storm of nerves in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly every interaction you'd had with him was replaying in your head, wondering if something went wrong.

“Do you want a drink or something?” He asked, leading you into the spacious modern-styled kitchen. Once in front of a rather large silver fridge he opened the french doors to reveal a plethora of alcohol, taking up most of the appliance.

“Oh, um,” In the corner you spotted one row of water bottles. “Could I have a water please?” You figured that alcohol may not be the best idea when feeling as nervous as you did.

He smiled, “Of course.” His hand plucked a bottle and handed it to you before grabbing a beer of his own.

“Hey, Sam!” Called a voice you recognized as Jake’s calling from the other room. “Come help fix this shit with this TV.”

He rolled his eyes but placed a tender hand on your shoulder, “Excuse me.” He said in a tone insinuating that he’d rather do anything else than go help them.

Shortly after Sam left, you soon felt another presence enter the kitchen. “Well, well, well. Nice to see you again.” Welcomed Jake adorned with a faux British accent and a half drank amber beverage.

“Hi- uh,” You pointed over your shoulder. “Didn’t you just call him over for help?”

Jake smirked and gestured over in the general direction. “Yeah, that’s what he’s doing. Helping.” He took a sip of his drink, his chocolate browns eyeing you over the brims of the short glass. He looked even better in the daylight, in a patterned button down, unbuttoned til the very last few buttons before being sucked into his jeans. His hair was long, past his shoulders, and fluffy. His face was sterner than Sam’s but not as angular or sharp.

“Oh.” You replied shortly, feeling naive and a bit cornered.

“Oh love, you can’t be only drinkin’ water.” He stayed in the British accent except it was sounding a bit Irish. “Let me make you something.” He began taking bottles off the counters and pulled a stemless martini glass from a cabinet.

“No, no.” You tried to stop him using your hands to wave away his actions. “I’m okay really.”

“Nonsense. I’ll make it light.” His gravelly voice returning to his American dialect. Though, what he was making looked far from light and the churning anxiety in your stomach only worsened.

He poured in some vodka into a shaker and took the opportunity to glance up at you while the liquid poured. “So, Sammy wooed you huh?” The corner of his lips curling into a smirk.

“I-I,” You began but fell short, not really knowing the answer. It was true but Sam didn’t even know how you felt, you couldn’t let Jake know first.

“I see.” He nodded, adding cranberry juice to the metal container. “Either you haven’t told him or he’s not doing a very good job at wooing you.”

A bright red blush bloomed to your cheeks at his words, seemingly stunned silent, lost in your own jumbled thoughts.

He paused with his brows lowering then raising, “Or both.” Before the smirk returned again. “What a shame.”

“What is?” You asked innocently.

Some other juices and ingredients you didn’t recognize were added to the shaker before he snapped the lid on it. “You’re easily the most beautiful girl he’s ever brought around.” He said effortlessly, no hesitation behind the words - unlike with Sam, who had you questioning your entire purpose there. “It’d be a shame for him to fumble the opportunity to win you over.” He brought the shaker over his shoulder and shook it with one hand, ice clashing into metal filling the silence in the room.

“Oh, no.” The blush on your cheeks had dulled to dusty rose and your eyes fell to your water bottle as you played with the label. “I don’t think it’s anything like that.” When the words left your mouth, they felt like lies. It had to be something right? There’s no way you were just imagining everything. You shrugged. “Or maybe? I don’t know.”

He poured the martini glass full of a cloudy pink liquid and handed it to you garnished with mint. “You’re far too stunning to be that confused about someone’s feelings for you.”

You took the glass delicately to not disturb the beautiful presentation. “Thank you.” You replied quietly to both the drink and the compliment.

Jake’s eyes darted to the left catching Sam making his way back. The smirk returned to his lips before leaning over to reach your ear. “If you’re not impressed by him, let me know. I can do anything he can’t.” His hand lightly gripped your arm before parting from you to walk past Sam in the opposite direction.

Your eyes widened unsure how to take his claim, but a buzz fell into your hips nonetheless. What could he possibly show you that Sam couldn’t? But more importantly, was there truth behind his words, should you not be blindly crushing on Sam without knowing his feelings? While Jake wasn’t the one you wanted, he sure had a way of making everything so simple.

You were startled out of your thoughts when Sam finally reached your side. “C’mon, they’re about to start the movie.” He said quietly then placed his hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you to the living room.

The feeling of his touch on you made your heart swell but only further confused you about his behavior. Even after his hand left you, it still tingled where it had been. He plopped down in the middle of the couch and patted the cushion beside him, inviting you to sit next to him.

You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your recently glossed lips and took the seat next to him.

It didn’t take long for all the boys to gather around the tv, some on the couch and some on the floor. They put on some indie movie that you could barely keep up with, not because it was necessarily over your head, but because of Sam’s proximity to you. Your knees were barely touching and there’s just a hair of space between our stationary pinkies on the cushion, just begging to cross over each other. Your heart stayed high the entire time, but you try to hide your chest rising and falling rapidly. You wonder if Sam or anyone else around them could tell or if Sam felt the same way.

Jake sat on the other side of Sam, and you were grateful for it because the idea of being sat between them made your head spin. It was bad enough you’d already caught him stealing looks at you every now and then, but you paid no attention to him, not wanting to fuel whatever fire he was trying to start. It was bad enough that his words were ringing in the back of your head and your curiosity running rampant.

You and Sam’s pinkies were still barely touching, and the contact remained light yet electric throughout the entire movie. The sensation of his skin brushing against yours was enough to keep your heart racing and your skin tingling with goosebumps. The quickened pulse and fluttering nerves never eased during the film’s two hours and seventeen minutes, despite the lively chatter and laughter of the group around you. Each time you shifted, or the couch creaked, the brief, tantalizing contact was a constant reminder of his closeness, amplifying your giddy nervousness. Every slight movement or accidental brush seemed to heighten the tension, making it almost impossible to focus on anything other than the shared, electrifying proximity between you. The soft, shared touch was like a delicate thread binding you together, making every casual brush of his hand feel intensely significant.

As the movie ended, the group burst into animated discussion, gesturing enthusiastically about their favorite parts. You were more than content to fade into the background, relieved not to be thrust into the conversation since you had barely paid attention and couldn't have contributed meaningfully. As the chatter continued and the group began to scatter—grabbing their belongings or placing glasses in the sink—You rose from your seat, stretching your arms above your head to loosen the muscles that had been dormant for the past two hours. Then, you navigated around the couch, stepping out of Jake's way as he made his way toward the living room exit.

You ended up leaning forward against the backside of the couch, pressing your palms into the headrests for support. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of Sam’s head resting on your shoulder from behind. It was a simple, unassuming gesture, but it sent your heart racing, making it feel as if it were leaping into your throat. The thudding pulse in your ears seemed to drown out everything else, and every hair on your body seemed to stand on end.

Sam's hands were tucked behind him as he bent slightly to rest against you. “Did ya like the movie?” He asked casually, completely unaware of the mini panic attack his closeness was causing.

“I—” You stuttered, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. He chuckled softly, sensing your unease.

“You didn’t like it, did you?” He guessed with a knowing smile.

The blush deepened on your cheeks as he pulled away, giving you a moment to regain your composure. You turned to face him, trying to steady your breath. “I did,” you said, not entirely untrue, since you had been too distracted to focus on the film.

Sam’s face softened into an endearing, embarrassed grin, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Ah, I told the guys we should’ve picked a more interesting movie.” It was adorable, the way he was nervous about you enjoying the piece of media, nervous about impressing you.

You noticed then that it was just the four of them, no extra partners or friends. This was really about him introducing you to his tight-knit circle. He was more reserved with them compared to his larger-than-life charisma he normally exuded in other social situations. Being the little brother of two other grandiose personalities, it made sense that he’d sometimes get outshined. You wondered if this was the normal dynamic with them or if they were on good behavior because of your presence.

Without thinking, you reached out and found his wrist, giving it a little squeeze. “I liked it. I think I’m just tired.”

His regular joyful smile and the sparkle in his espresso eyes returned, “Oh, I’m glad. I was scared it would bore you.”

You shook your head with a reassuring grin, “No, I think I just need some coffee.”

“Hey, Y/N!” A voice called from the kitchen and when you leaned over to follow it, you found Jake with a cigar perched in his lips while he lit the end. “You should join us at the arcade tomorrow night.”

Your eyes flickered up to Sam, who looked like Jake just asked a question he had been hyping himself up to ask. “Sure.” You smiled up at Sam before moving back to Jake. “I’d love to.”

“Cool.” Sam nodded, trying to act nonchalant about it all but the truth was that he was ecstatic.

The more he got to know you, the more he became something he rarely was - shy. Fidgety and nervous were never part of Sam’s repertoire, he was always his most authentic self, never caring who thought what of him. Until you. Especially since you weren’t seeming to pick up on any of his hints. True to your nickname, he thought of you like a flower, something delicate. Delicate for Sam was dancing around all of the obvious signs instead of blurting out his feelings. He didn’t want to scare you away with overstepping or misread signals. You were slowly becoming his new favorite person, and he didn’t want to rush or lose that because of his own impatience.

After saying goodbye to the boys and thanking Josh for his stellar hospitality, you and Sam wandered over to an on-campus café for some much-needed coffee before Sam’s evening class started. The atmosphere was cozy, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It felt like the perfect way to wind down after the busy day.

The view from the amply large windows gave you a perfect view of the setting sun, casting pink and gold through the glass and onto the tan boy. You couldn’t get over just how beautiful he was, you wondered if he knew that about himself.

“Thanks for drivin’ me back to campus,” Sam said as he brought his cup to his lips. You couldn’t help but let your eyes drift to his mouth, watching as his pink lips touched the plastic lid. You felt a strange pang of envy toward that cup, wishing you were the one he was drawing closer to.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you replied, quickly blinking away your stare and taking a sip of your hot coffee to distract yourself.

He set his cup down and cleared his throat, his gaze locking onto yours with a spark of mischief. “So,” he began, drawing out the moment with unnecessary suspense, “I have a very important question.”

Your eyes widened as you mirrored him, placing your cup down too. “Oh god, what?”

Sam paused for effect, leaning in ever so slightly before finally asking, “What is… your major?”

You let out a relieved laugh, placing an open palm on your chest. “Jesus, you scared me.”

Sam chuckled, flashing you that easy grin of his. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Um, honestly, I’m kind of undecided,” you admitted with a shrug. “I came in as an English major, but now I’m not so sure. You?”

“Ah, I’ve got no major,” he said casually, taking another sip of his coffee. “Why choose? I want a little bit of everything, ya know?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I believe they call that Liberal Arts.”

“Damn,” he sighed dramatically, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “And here I thought I was being revolutionary.”

If you didn’t have a massive crush on him, you might’ve teased him more, maybe something like, "Yeah, a lot of men seem to think they’re revolutionary," But you bit your tongue, opting for something lighter instead.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to think outside of a bigger box, Sammy,” you teased, tipping your cup toward him with a grin.

“I guess you’re right, Wallflower,” he shot back smoothly, making your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t your name but god did you love the way he said it. You felt the familiar warmth creeping up your neck, threatening to color your cheeks red, so you quickly changed the subject.

“So, your brothers just go to arcades regularly?” you asked innocently, trying to steady yourself.

He laughed, setting his cup back down. “Not just any arcade. It’s The Arcade. It’s this bar-arcade place, kind of like a smaller, off-brand Dave & Buster’s.”

Your lips formed an understanding "O." “My bad.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” Sam continued, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I think you’ll really like it.”

You smiled, enjoying his enthusiasm, but something had been gnawing at you for a while now, so you leaned in with a half-serious grin. “Hey, so how do you get into all these places anyway? Just how many people do you know?”

Sam laughed easily. “Honestly, just one—my dad.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “He’s the Dean.”

You almost spat out your coffee. “Your dad is the Dean? Of our school?”

“Yep,” he said with a grin. “And, well, I guess I know three people if you count Jake and Josh. They set some traditions before I started. Most of the bars let me in because of them.”

You blinked, processing the information. “So, your dad just lets you guys drink and party wherever you want?”

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “Kinda. He wants us to have the full ‘college experience.’ As long as we keep our grades up and don’t screw up too badly, he pretty much lets us do whatever. It also helps that no one really wants to say no to us because, you know, Dean’s kids and all. Not that we’d ever get anyone kicked out or anything, but they don’t need to know that.”

You laughed, leaning forward on your elbows with a teasing glint in your eye. “So basically, don’t piss you off?”

Sam grinned, his expression softening as he leaned in slightly. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to piss me off.”

As you finished your coffee, the conversation drifted into lighter topics, the laughter between you and Sam making the café feel even cozier. But as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the café windows, the thought of your upcoming weekend plans lingered in the back of your mind. The idea of spending more time with Sam at The Arcade filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and excitement—a little nerve-wracking but thrilling all the same.

“Ah shit.” Sam quickly shifted his watch into view. “I gotta get out of here before I’m late - again.”

The anticipation was sweet, a pleasant undercurrent as you both stood up to leave. You didn’t know it, but he was feeling just as anxious and excited as you.

Sam flashed you a grin that made your heart flutter. “So, Saturday then? I’ll pick you up around seven?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect,” you replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. It felt like the weekend couldn’t come fast enough

As you said your goodbyes and parted ways, a smile lingered on your lips, the thought of seeing him again sending butterflies swirling through your chest.

You found yourself looking forward to it more than you expected, not just because it sounded fun, but because it was with him. You couldn’t help but smile at the idea of what the weekend might bring—laughing over games, the buzz of the arcade lights, and maybe even an excuse to let your guard down a little more around him.

The thought of the upcoming date left you both excited and a little bit anxious. It felt different, but you couldn’t tell how. But mostly, you couldn’t wait to see where the night would take you—after all, being with Sam always promised an adventure.

Next Chapter -> 03 - Deflowering*

Taglist; @sacredthefran @deathblacksmoke @measuredingold @persuasivus @broken0mens @peaceloveunitygvf @shutupdevvie [comment or send an ask to be added to taglist<3]

A/N; Thank you SO much for reading! Let me know what you think<3

#concreteburialplot works #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #sam kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fluff #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #sam kiszka x y/n

56 notes · View notes