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SPNPOCWEEK DAY 2

FAVOURITE (one off) CHARACTER / BLUE - CASSIE ROBINSON

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Have you had any recent nsfw thoughts abt Sam winchester?

Yes… always…. I think he is always touching you, hands on your hips or resting on the small of your back, guiding you through crowds or haunted houses, just always with a hand on you. He’s even worse when the two of you are in bed/not in public, hand on your stomach, dipping into your jeans as he kisses you lazily.

That’s another thing. Sam Winchester is a KISSER. It’s his favorite thing in the world. He will always be down to make out. You’re scared? “C’mere, angel, let me make it better.” And he’s kissing the breath right out of your lungs. You’re bored in the motel with nothing to do while Dean goes to grab dinner? “I have an idea,” with a shit-eating grin as he coaxes you into his lap. He loves a lazy make out, just grinding and grabbing and touching and feeling.

#bringbackdryhumping was actually invented for Sam Winchester. If there is something he enjoys more than giving head, (which, let’s face it, there isn’t) it’s dry humping. He fucking loves dry humping. Trust me on this one guys. Dean has walked in on the two of you dry humping a few times and has since started knocking really loud before entering rooms where the two of you are alone together. And then waiting for about a minute so you can get untangled.

Sam likes having his hair pulled, will whimper and whine and beg and plead. He’s a whiner. He loves to whine. He loves to give you big wide puppy dog eyes if you’re on top and then he will beg really pretty. He loves when you ride him or even just take control in general- he’s a switch at his core so he can go either way, but something about watching you do whatever you want to him gets him going.

I love you Sam Winchester please come home. Please. Please

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wish there were more good baldur's gate playthroughs on youtube so i didn't have to keep watching the same two hour long slimecicle video over and over again

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RAA IT'S DONE!!! it hurt so fucking bad definitely like at least 6/10 pain scale but it looks sick as fuck 😎 also lowkey feel like my chapstick on my bedside table is mocking me bc my lips already feel so dry and chapped and it's only been like four hours pls T-T

IM GETTING MY LIP PIERCED TOMORROW EEEE !!!

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sam girls LOVE gale dekarios

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IM GETTING MY LIP PIERCED TOMORROW EEEE !!!

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SUPERNATURAL || “Jus in Bello” 3.12

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｡𖦹°‧ across the room⁴,

summary.you’ve seen sam around. he’s seen you too. all you’re both waiting for is the perfect opportunity to go from strangers to something more.

pairing. stanford!sam winchester x reader   genre. soft smut ( mdni )

wordcount. 1263

notes / warnings. apologies that this took forever. but here it is!! // steamy make-out session, grinding, implied arousal, soft hair-pulling, handsy underclothes action, breathy dialogue. wearing sam's hoodie!!!

ᯓ★ read part 1, part 2, part 3

You don’t mean to wear his hoodie. It’s not a conscious choice, exactly.

You just… slept over. Totally innocently. There were notes and popcorn and exactly one (1) aggressively PG-13 cuddle session before you both passed out on top of the covers like you were in some romcom fever dream. And when you woke up, a little cold and very late, the only thing nearby was the hoodie he peeled off around midnight. So you threw it on. No big deal.

Except—it is a big deal.

Because the minute you walk into class, slightly flushed and chewing the drawstring, Sam sees you.

He’s already there, sprawled in the back row like he owns the place, hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows and pen dangling from his fingers. He’s mid-sip of coffee when you step through the door—wearing his hoodie, too-long sleeves bunched at your wrists, the neckline stretched just wide enough to hint that there’s probably not much underneath.

You don’t notice him at first.

But he notices everything.

The way you tug the sleeves over your knuckles. The way you scrunch your nose at the overhead lights. The way you slip into the seat beside your friend, like this is just any other Monday.

Sam almost chokes on his coffee.

He forces himself to look away—forces his brain back onto psych terms and lecture slides—but you’re sitting three rows ahead and slightly to the left, and he can still see the hem of his hoodie covering your thighs.

When the professor announces a break halfway through, Sam’s on his feet before the words fully land. He doesn’t even think. Just follows the slow stream of students out into the hallway, scanning until—

There. You’re by the vending machine, punching in a number with a furrowed brow and your tongue pressed to your cheek. Sam’s dead.

“Hey,” he says, voice low as he steps up beside you.

You turn, startled. Then you smile, soft and sleepy-eyed. “Hey.”

He doesn’t kiss you.

He wants to—wants to back you against the glass and taste the cherry Chapstick you always keep in your bag. But he doesn’t. He just reaches out, slow and careful, and brushes his knuckles against the hem of the hoodie.

Thumb finding the drawstring. Fingertips brushing your hipbone. Barely there—but burning, all the same.

“Looks better on you,” he murmurs.

Your breath stutters. “Oh.”

He smiles, lazy and a little smug. “Wanna come over after class?”

You blink. “To… study?”

His hand slips to your waist. “Sure. We’ll call it that.”

You’re useless for the rest of the lecture.

You try to take notes, really—you even open a Google Doc and type “cognitive dissonance”—but the only thing dissonant is the state of your thoughts.

By the time you get back to his dorm, it’s raining again.

Of course it is.

You toe off your shoes and shrug out of your coat, only now realizing you never took the hoodie off. Sam doesn’t comment—just locks the door, tosses his bag aside, and turns to you with that look.

The one that says you’re mine, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

You’re still dripping rain when he pulls you in.

It’s not rushed—not like last time, where it built slow and sweet and soft. This time, it’s now. It’s urgent. His hands are at your waist before you can speak, pulling you into him with a quiet, hungry sound in the back of his throat.

The door clicks shut behind you. Your coat hits the floor. And then his mouth is on yours.

God—his mouth. Hot and wanting, lips dragging yours open, tongue stroking like he’s already forgotten what it feels like to not be kissing you. He groans when you fist your hands in his t-shirt, tugging him closer. You can feel the tension coiled in his frame—like he's holding back, but just barely.

“Still cold?” he murmurs against your lips.

You shake your head. “No.”

He smiles—then presses you back until your spine hits the door, his body caging you in like you’re something he’s starved for.

"You’ve been driving me insane all day," he breathes, nose brushing your cheek. "In my hoodie."

“It was right there,” you whisper, breathless. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Sam huffs a laugh, low and rough, and tilts your chin so he can kiss you again—deeper now, more tongue, more need. One hand slides up under the hem of the hoodie, skimming bare skin, palm splaying warm and greedy across your back.

And then you do it—shift your hips just enough to feel him. The hard line of him, unmistakable and pressing against your thigh.

He gasps. Like you short-circuited him. His fingers twitch at your waist.

“Shit—don’t do that,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering. “I’ll lose it.”

You do it again. Slow. Intentional. Your hips rock just enough to grind against him, and his whole body stutters. One arm slams against the door behind you for balance. The other—the other—slides down to grip your ass, dragging you closer so there’s no space left.

Your breath catches. His forehead rests against yours, both of you panting.

“You’re evil,” he whispers.

“Mm,” you hum. “I’m cold. Keep warming me up.”

That’s all it takes. He growls—growls—then fists a hand in your hair and tugs, just enough to tip your head back and expose your throat. His mouth latches on immediately, kissing and licking and biting gently at your pulse like he’s trying to mark you through restraint.

Your knees nearly give out.

His hoodie—your hoodie, now—rides higher as you rock against him, and when his hands slip under it, they're not careful anymore. They find the waistband of your bottoms, the curve of your waist, then—oh—up. Fingers dragging over the delicate fabric of your bra.

You shiver when his thumb grazes the swell of your breast. He pauses, breath shaky.

“You wanna stop?” he asks, voice strained.

You shake your head fast. “No. Don’t stop. Please.”

His mouth crashes into yours again, desperate. He lifts you—lifts you—like it’s nothing and carries you the two steps to the bed, laying you down without breaking the kiss. You clutch at him, wrapping your legs around his hips, your core grinding right into the hardness in his jeans.

He moans—full-bodied, ruined—and you swallow it down.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he rasps against your mouth.

You smile, smug and drunk on him. “You like it.”

His hands dive back under the hoodie. He palms your hips, your waist, your ribs like he’s mapping you. His fingers graze the underside of your bra again, this time bolder, brushing over the lace and the heat of you underneath.

You whimper. “Sam—”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I know. I got you.”

He kisses you slow this time, filthy and reverent, and you melt under him completely. The hoodie swallows you whole, your panties the only thing left between you and chaos. And the way he’s looking at you—like you’re everything—makes your chest ache.

You’re soaked. And not from the rain.

His thigh slots between yours and you rock helplessly against it, fingers digging into his shoulders. His hoodie sleeves fall over your hands, hiding how you claw at him, how you pull him closer, how you don’t want him to ever stop.

“You’re not getting this hoodie back,” you whisper, half-drunk on his mouth.

He grins, kissing your jaw. “Good. Looks better on you.”

You giggle—high, breathless, aroused beyond belief—and yank him back down.

And for the next hour, that hoodie never leaves your body.

But everything else does.

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omg hello pretend it didn't take me literally forever to read this uhm catch me tearing up reading this in the middle of my shift.

love love love lowkey kind of the perfect ending? i love a reunion fic i love an exes to lovers trope i love an open ending i love probably everything about this. and sam having someone who also knew jess and loved her like he did and being able to share the grief and the memory of her like he deserves that so much i'm actually :') crying daisy this is perfect <333

after everything ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: reunions, explanations, reconciliations, and hope for the future 

pairings: sam winchester x fem! reader, prev samjess x reader, prev samjessノ wc: 4.0k warnings: pt. 3/3, no use of 'y/n', switching povs/omniscient narrator, angst, mentions of jess's death, eventual fluff, a bittersweet/happy ending, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own a/n: wahhh its over guys T-T i had so much fun writing this for you guys and i can't believe its over!! trust i have some other multi-chapter fics lined up for the summer and ofc other one-shots but for right now enjoy the last part of the after series!! the after series masterlist

SAM WOULDN’T ADMIT IT, BUT HE WAS TIRED. 

Tired of what exactly? He could give you a laundry list that was as long as his forearm. The exhaustion that swept over him was all too familiar—it was permanently etched into his bones like the angel warding Cas had done so long ago. 

Sam rubbed his face as he hunched over his laptop at the table in the motel. It was one of the nicer ones that he and Dean had stayed in lately. The decor was simple: standard wooden nightstands, lamps on either one, an art print hanging between the beds, and the wallpaper was a simple cream color. 

Sam was pleasantly surprised when he entered the room and looked at Dean for an explanation.  

Dean shrugged. “Wanted to stay in a place where the smell of cigarette smoke wasn’t permanently ingrained in the room.”  

Sam just nodded his head, and after setting up the warding in the room, he promptly sank into the queen-sized mattress and slept. 

The hunt was a simple one, just a vengeful spirit that awoke because people were renovating their old house. The previous owner had died in that house, so he didn’t take it too kindly to his home being destroyed. It was an open-and-shut case, leaving the Winchesters in a small town in Washington for an extra couple of days. 

“We should take a break here.” Dean said as they were in the Impala, heading back from salting and burning the corpse of the old house owner. 

“A break?” Sam asked. 

Dean nodded. “Why not? We’re a couple miles from Seattle. We can spend a couple of days there before heading back to the bunker.” 

Sam studied Dean with a raised brow. He could see the same exhaustion mirrored in his older brother’s features. Sam swallowed thickly before dragging his eyes away from Dean. 

“Sure, why not. I could use a few days off.” Sam said before pulling out his phone and starting to research things to do in Seattle. 

Once they made it to Seattle, Dean splurged on another motel, and it felt strange to Sam that he was in a city with his brother but not working on a hunt. So here he was, only two days into staying in Seattle, and he was researching for another hunt. But there was nothing out of the ordinary that caught his attention, making him breathe out a harsh breath as he leaned back in his chair. 

Dean was out with the Impala, checking out the pop culture museum. It was a shock to Sam that Dean would willingly go to a museum on his own, but considering it was the pop culture museum, it made a whole lot of sense that Dean would want to go. 

Sam shut his laptop and got up from his seat. The room felt too small for him right now. He grabbed his tan jacket, wallet, and motel key—feeling the coastal spring breeze on his cheeks as he exited the motel room. Shoving his hands in his jacket, Sam started to walk further into the city, passing by the different shops and restaurants that Seattle had to offer. 

It was a sunny day in Seattle, which was rare for the city, but spring was coming to a close, and summer was rapidly approaching. 

A cafe sign caught Sam’s eye. It was a hole-in-the-wall place, but through the shop window, Sam could see the rustic and vintage decor that was hung up throughout the place. 

They would have loved this place. Sam thought wistfully as he stared into the coffee shop. Before he knew it, his hand was on the handle of the door. When he opened the door, the small bell above the door rang, alerting the baristas of a potential new customer. 

The scent of roasted coffee beans washed over Sam as he stepped up to the counter. The cafe wasn’t too busy—customers of all ages were scattered through the floor plan of the place, most working in the quiet atmosphere of the shop, save for the music playing overhead and the sounds of the coffee beans being ground or drinks being made. 

“Hi! What can I get you?” The barista greeted Sam at the register. 

Sam sent them a polite smile. “Could I get a regular black coffee, hot?” 

“Is that all for you today?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, could I get a name for the order? And that’ll be $5 flat.” 

Sam gave them a ten-dollar bill. “Sam. Keep the change.” 

“Thank you. Your order will be out soon.” 

Sam nodded at the barista, turned around from the counter, took a few steps, and let his eyes scan the shop for an empty seat. He froze when his eyes landed on a familiar figure. You were sitting by one of the big bay windows by the front of the shop. You were writing furiously in a journal while your laptop was open in front of you. 

Sam’s breath caught in his throat as he was transported back to the week after Jess died. 

Sam ignored his phone for the fifth time today, and Dean was getting annoyed with the constant buzzing and ringing from it. 

“Dude, answer your damn phone already.” Dean grumbled as he sat at the table, cleaning his gun. 

Sam’s face screwed up at Dean, rolling his eyes before he pressed the ignore button on his phone. He couldn’t bear to look at you right now, not after Jess. His eyes were focused on his laptop as the sound of his keyboard clicking filled in the near silent room. 

“Who’s calling you anyways?” Dean spoke up again, clearly curious as to who was calling you for the fifth time in a row. 

“No one.” Sam grumbled. “It’s probably a spam caller.” 

“A spam caller is calling you five times in a row with no rest in between?” 

“Dean. Drop it.” Sam’s tone was harsh. Sam didn’t want to explain the entire situation that you, him, and Jess had established not even a month ago. Sam stared hard at the screen in front of him. How could everything go so wrong so quickly? He had his partners by his side and was supposed to be interviewing for law school and continuing his life away from the nightmare he fought so hard to get away from. 

Sam’s phone started to ring again. He audibly groaned, ignoring the pointed look Dean sent him, and finally answered his phone. 

“You better open that door Winchester.” Your harsh voice echoed through the receiver, your words cutting off any greeting that Sam had for you. 

His eyes widened in confusion, but he followed your instructions. Sam got up from his seat and went to the motel door. He opened the door and was met by your red-rimmed eyes filled with anger and worry as you held your phone up to your ear. 

Your eyes softened slightly at the sight of Sam but hardened again as you hung up your phone. “You better have a damn good reason why you’ve been avoiding my calls for the past couple of days.” 

Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but you quickly shoved your way inside of the motel room. Sam exclaimed your name, trying to grab you before you could make it even further into the room, but you were too quick for him. 

Your eyes met green ones filled with confusion and intrigue. Your eyes quickly gave the guy sitting at the table a once over, noting the gun in his hands before it clicked in your mind who this was. 

“How did you find me?” Sam asked, his tone betraying the uneasiness that was building in his gut. 

“Brady told me where you were.” You had never really liked Brady—you always got a weird feeling in your stomach whenever you hung out with him with the rest of the friend group. But Brady was your last resort since no one else knew where he was. Hell, you found out about the apartment fire because of him. 

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “I never told Brady where I was.” 

You paused for a second before shaking your head. “Well, I really don’t care how he knew, I’m just thankful that he did know and told me because did you really think I wasn’t going to come looking for you, after everything that just happened?”  

Sam let out a breath. Of course, he knew that you were going to look for him. A large part of him was glad that you weren’t in the apartment that night with Jess. His entire world would have collapsed if you were. Now, a small part of him hates that he has to figure out how to get you off of his back so he can leave. 

“Of course not.” 

“Then why dodge my calls?” 

“Because I’m leaving.” 

Silence filled the room. 

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly. 

Dean looked at this scene with bated breath. He had no idea who you were, but it was clear to him that you were important to Sam—Dean just didn’t know how.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. “After what happened,” Sam paused, shaking his head and looking away from you—his eyes focused on the wallpaper of the room, “I can’t be here anymore.” 

“You’re not staying for the funeral? Your words came out breathless, shaky. You could feel your eyelids start to burn. 

Sam said nothing, jaw clenched as he nodded. 

You shook your head, a scoff escaping your lips. “Do you think running away is going to help with the gaping hole in your chest?” 

Sam wanted to tell you everything, how monsters exist, how Jess’s death wasn’t an accident, and how he was going to go and kill the thing that killed her. 

“I’m just taking a page out of your book.” He was clearly referring to the fact that you avoided them for almost two weeks earlier this month. 

“That was different and you know that.” You hissed through your teeth, poking your finger into his chest. 

Sam grabbed your wrist as your name fell from his lips with a gentle whisper. “I know. But it hurts so much, I have to go.” 

“Do you have to?” Without me? The unadded question filled the widening gap between you and Sam. 

Sam looked at you with a sad smile. It’s one of his smiles you’ve never seen before. Half of his lips pulled up reproachfully as he looked down at you, your hand still on his chest as he loosely grips your wrist. 

You saw the resolution in his eyes, and you knew there was no chance of convincing Sam to stay. You had a feeling there was more to him than just wanting to up and leave with his brother. 

“Just–” You bit your bottom lip, “Remember to call, okay?” 

“I will.” 

You nodded, and before you could second guess yourself, you pulled Sam into a tight hug. You tucked your face into his neck and tried to commit his scent to memory—the pit in your stomach told you it would be a while until you’d see him again. Sam shoved his face into your hair, tears starting to well up in his eyes at the smell of Jess’s shampoo. You must have used it recently, he thought and was tempted to stop by your apartment when you weren’t there to steal it. 

You pulled away from him, squeezing his hand three times before leaving the room without another word exchanged between the two of you. 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut before scrubbing a hand down his face. It’s for the better, Sam thought. You didn’t need to be pulled into this world, and Sam could not stand the thought of you getting hurt if you knew about what actually lurks in the dark. 

“She was hot.” Dean stated, breaking the silence after you had left the room.

“Fuck off.” Sam practically snarled as he glared at Dean—the despair he was feeling quickly turned into fury. Sam did not want to hear Dean objectify his ex-partner now or ever.  

Dean just put his hands up in surrender, unaccustomed to the type of fury that was behind Sam’s gaze. 

Sam was brought back to the present when you finally tore your eyes away from your page and met his. Confusion filled your gaze before it bled into recognition as Sam saw your eyes flick up and down his figure, and he found he did the same to you. 

You looked beautiful. You grew even more into your features, but your eyes still held the same spark that Sam could recognize from a mile away. A slight smile grew on your face as you waved him over and gestured to the empty seat in front of you. 

“Black coffee for Sam!” A voice exclaimed into the cafe. 

Sam looked sheepish as he pointed at the pickup area for his drink. You nodded and gave him a thumbs-up in response.  

Once Sam picked up his drink, he felt the world slow down with each step he took towards you. His heart rate picked up as he neared your table. The sun shined through the bay windows, illuminating your features and giving you an almost ethereal glow to your skin. 

Sam set down his coffee on the table before sitting down in front of you. “Hey.” He breathed out, nerves crawling throughout his skin. 

You smiled at him. “Hi Sam. It’s been a while.” 

An awkward smile pulled at his lips. “Yeah, it has.” 

“What brings you to Seattle?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your journal was closed as you rested your head on your hand, looking at him intently. 

Sam tried not to squirm under your gaze. “Just visiting for a couple of days.” 

You nodded. A silence settled between the two of you. You took a sip of your lukewarm drink that was sitting idle right next to your laptop. 

It felt surreal to Sam, sitting right in front of you after all of these years. Sam's eyes were drawn to your hands that were wrapped around your cup—instinctively looking at your left hand. A weight he didn’t know he had lifted from his chest at the fact that your left hand was bare, but the thought that you could still have someone waiting for you made Sam feel strange. He knows that he has no claim over you, not after leaving Stanford the way that he did. 

Sam was looking at you so intently that he missed the fact you were speaking to him. He blinked once, seeing the amused smirk on your face—it was all too familiar, that smile. It was the same one you would get before teasing him. 

“Sorry I didn’t catch that.” He said with a sheepish smile on his lips. 

“I could tell,” You let out a small chuckle. “But I was asking if you wanted to go to this museum nearby? It’s like a ten minute walk from here.”

Sam nodded before grimacing slightly. “It’s not the Pop Culture museum is it?”  

You shook your head. “No. It’s a regular art museum. Although, I am tempted to take you to it now.” 

Sam let out a small laugh. “Please don’t. It’s the only time where I’m not stuck to Dean’s side for the day.” 

“You’re here with your brother?” You were a little surprised to hear that he was still traveling around with his brother. 

“Yeah, he has the car so I’ve been walking around today.” 

“I could’ve guessed that myself. Do you want to go to the museum or do you have other obligations right now?” You asked, starting to pack up your things. 

“I’ll go.” Sam said with a small smile. “The only thing on my agenda today was to walk around the city aimlessly.” 

“Well, let me lead the way for you.” You had finished packing your stuff up, and Sam got up from his seat at the same time you did. You led him out of the cafe where the two of you were and toward the museum. 

The two of you made small talk along the way, making the walk feel much shorter than it actually was, and once you were in the museum, the two of you barely talked. You guys walked through each exhibit in pleasant silence—re-familiarizing yourselves with each other's presence as hands brushed against each other in soft caresses as you walked or stared at each piece of artwork the two of you admired. 

While neither you nor Sam said this thought aloud, but both of you thought this was nice, reconnecting with each other—but silently wishing that you were with each other after all this time, that even though there was a missing piece in Jess, you and Sam still fit together all the same. 

After you and Sam made your way through all of the exhibits, the two of you shared a quick lunch at the diner across the street from the museum, chatting with each other quietly over your food. You guys spent a lot of time talking after your food was done, but you wanted to take him to the waterfront before the sunset. So you did, and the two of you sat on a bench, looking out into the calm waters. 

Sam tore his gaze away from the sight in front of him and looked at you instead. The orange hues of the slowly setting sun were reflecting in your eyes and bathing you in the warm light.  

“You never called.” Your calm tone broke the silence. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You looked away from the waters to find a forlorn expression etched into Sam’s features. You stared at him for a second. He looked…tired. His shoulders were sagging like there was a weight tugging at them, and his hazel gaze told you that though the weight was seemingly invisible—it clearly affected him in more ways than one. 

“I’m sorry about everything. For Jess’s death, for leaving…” Sam trailed off, looking away from you and closing his eyes shut. For potentially putting you in danger, for starting the apocalypse, the list went on and on for Sam. 

You grabbed the hand that was closest to you, making his eyes open, and looked at you. “Look, I’ll be honest, I was mad at you for the longest time about how you left. How you didn’t bother going to her funeral and how you didn’t call. But I don’t blame you for leaving now. You were just coping with it differently.” 

Sam pursed his lips. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Besides, I can’t take credit for those last bits. That was mostly my therapist’s advice.” You couldn’t help the slight smirk that pulled at the edges of your lips. 

Sam mirrored your smirk. “They seem like a smart person.” 

“She is, and well, I pay her a lot to hear about my issues.” 

Sam shook his head with a growing smile. Your sense of humor hadn’t changed a bit since he last saw you. 

“Jess’s death wasn’t an accident.” Sam blurted out, making both of your smiles fade at his words. 

You looked away from Sam, squeezing his hand. “I had a feeling, but I could never prove that it was.” 

You looked back at Sam, and while the look in his eye said everything to you, he knew what had happened that night. 

Sam took a deep breath and explained everything. From his childhood to what happened when his brother broke into his apartment to what happened to Jess, he summarized how crazy his life had been until today. Sam had talked so much that the sun was low below the horizon, and the dim lights on the waterfront illuminated your surroundings. You listened to him with a rapt gaze, hanging on to his words. 

Sam was afraid that you wouldn’t take him seriously, that he was crazy, and that you would never want to see him again after tonight. When he was finished talking, Sam looked at you finally, anticipating seeing skepticism in your eyes but saw acceptance in them instead. 

“You believe me?” Sam asked after seeing the look in your eyes. 

“I’d have to be crazy not to.” You saw nothing but the truth in Sam’s hazel gaze as he spoke. 

Sam didn’t think before replying. “You are crazy if you do.”

A surprised laugh escaped you. “What does that make you then?” 

“Someone who’s grown up with this kind of stuff so it’s my normal.” 

“Ah.” You nodded. “So crazier than me? You know because you grew up knowing that monsters existed.” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

Another laugh left your lips, and Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sound. 

“I can’t believe you actually believe me.” 

You sighed. “Look, I came to terms with Jess’s death a lot more recently than I’d like to admit. But with the whole monster and demon stuff, it makes a whole lot more sense when trying to find closure and people tell you it was a freak accident.” 

Sam nodded in understanding, scooting closer to you on the bench and squeezing your hand. “I still think about her. And you.” 

“Same.” You whispered. “I don’t think there’s a day that I don’t think about the what ifs. How our lives would look if she didn’t die.” You admitted. 

“Same here.” Sam sent you a sad smile filled with understanding. He took his free hand and gently cupped your cheek. 

You couldn’t help but lean into his warmth. Sam’s eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips as he leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours and resting his forehead on yours, making your eyes flutter shut at the contact. 

“I missed you.” You whispered in the dwindling space between the two of you. 

“I missed you too.” Sam responded before placing his lips on yours, pulling you into a tender kiss. 

Sam’s lips felt like coming home. God, you had forgotten how the warm feeling in your chest spread throughout your body every time you kissed Sam. It was intoxicating to feel his lips on yours again. It also had a bittersweet nature to the reunion of your kiss. 

It was unspoken the promise Sam poured into the kiss. Promises of keeping you safe, the promise of the potential of something new with you. It scared him, but as he sunk into the kiss, the feeling of warmth, the one so familiar with home, was with you—and he doesn’t know if he can part ways with you for good. So, he won’t. For the first time in his life, the weight has lifted. Only slightly, but it feels a whole lot bearable to have you here with him. 

You guys pulled apart slowly, breaking the kiss. You guys breathed each other in as your foreheads rested against each other. You opened your mouth to say something, but a stomach growling interrupted you instead. 

Both of you chuckled as you pulled away from each other. You sat up from the bench, Sam’s hands falling away from you as you did. 

You extended a hand out to him. “Come on, I know a few spots around here for dinner.” 

“Lead the way.” Sam said he grabbed your hand and got up from the bench.

Sam let you lead him down the waterfront, continuing from the page that the two of you had left on and into a new story—one with a happier ending. 

[holdinggrudges]

OMG SPIDER-MAN! SAM AU??

will give you my first born if you wrote that!! and omg our minds?? ive had that au on my WIP list for so long its actually criminal that i havent gotten around to it yet T-T

and i think ik which edit you're talking about bc ive seen it before but if i find it ill def send it to your inbox hehe 🤭🤭

if anyone is going to support my ideas i KNOW daisy's got my back like wow.. great minds think alike guys mhmm 🙂‍↕️ he is just so spidey to me idk just something about it. i can just see him swinging around in a spidey suit.

also i owe you my life re: spidey sam edit (daisy found this link btw guys bc she's awesome) i'm not sure whether this is the exact one i remember or if the one im thinking of even exists but this one is absolutely incredible and i thank you a million times MWAH

[holdinggrudges]

thinking to myself hmm is it normal for ovulating to make u severely depressed and then of course started my period almost exactly two weeks into my cycle dude i know youre kidding. pcos about to send me into a violent rage

[holdinggrudges]

👍👍👍

[holdinggrudges]

i s2g i used to have a spidersam edit saved on tiktok somewhere and it is simply no where to be found fuck my life

[holdinggrudges]

can't sleep too busy thinking about sam as spider-man. spider-sam. is this anything?

[holdinggrudges]

maybe writing butch sam will make me actually want to finish the last probably 15k words of this chapter

[holdinggrudges]

i love human writing i love little typos and grammar mistakes and missing words that get missed while editing i love run on sentences and weird writing quirks and overused words bc the writer just loves them so much I LOVE HUMAN WRITING!!! ai could NEVER recreate that sort of passion