#standford

NASTY DOG !! | BillFord Animation

[I regret nothing 🤭]

Hiii so I wrote this standford era sam court fic for sam birthday ! Enjoy! Don't hesitate to like and comment ~Lily

The late October sun was a stubborn gold, covering the walls of the Stanford library until the air inside felt heavy and still. It was that specific California autumn—too hot for the sweaters everyone wanted to wear, yet breezy enough to remind you that the year was fading.

You were tucked into a corner, hiding behind a wall of law books. You were the kind of person who loved being around people but hated being the center of attention. You enjoyed the hum of the library, the comfort of shared silence. But your quiet was constantly interrupted by the sight of him: Sam Winchester.

He was always a few tables away, buried in books as if they were his only friends. He was beautiful in a way that felt accidental—the way his hair fell over his eyes, the way he tried to make his large frame take up as little space as possible. He looked like a giant trying to hide in plain sight.

You stood up to slide a heavy casebook back onto a high shelf. As you reached, the heat of the day seemed to catch up with you, making your grip falter. The book fell of your grip.

"Oh—" you gasped, eyes widening.

A large, slightly trembling hand shot out, bracing the spine of the book against the shelf just before it could touch the floor.

You turned quickly, nearly bumping into a broad chest covered in soft, wrinkled flannel. You looked up and found Sam standing there. He wasn't smiling confidently; in fact, he looked just as startled as you. His face was flooded with a deep, creeping red that reached the tips of his ears.

"Sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly before settling into a soft, hesitant baritone. "I didn't... I saw it slipping. I didn't mean to jump at you."

He quickly pulled his hand back, tucking it into his pocket as if he were embarrassed by his own reflexes. He wouldn't quite meet your eyes, looking instead at the stack of books on your table.

"Thank you," you said, your own voice small. Your heart was drumming against your ribs. "I think my brain is just tired today, or just totally absent who knows..."

Sam flicked his gaze to yours for a split second—forest green eyes full of a strange, looking back down at his boots. "Yeah. I get that. I’ve been staring at the same page of Constitutional Law for twenty minutes. It’s... it’s a lot."

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked like he wanted to run away, but he stayed.

"I'm Sam," he murmured, so quietly you almost missed it. "I’ve seen you in the morning lectures. You always have that... that blue notebook. You take a lot of notes."

He bit his lip, looking horrified that he’d admitted to noticing you. "I mean—not in a weird way! Just... you seem really focused. I admire that."

You felt a warm flush rise to your cheeks. The fact that the most handsome, mysterious guy in the library was just as nervous as you made something in your chest loosen. What you didn't know is that sam look at you since a while, he still remembers the first time he saw(reader) she was laughing with her friends about something and her bright smile just made his day.

"I'm [Name]," you replied, offering a small, encouraging smile. "And I only take so many notes because I’m terrified I’ll forget everything the second I walk out those doors it's terrifying."

Sam finally let out a tiny, breathy laugh. He looked up, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—no dimples yet, just a shy, tentative curve.

"Me too," he confessed. He gestured vaguely toward the exit, his movements a bit stiff. "I was going to... I don't know, go find some caffeine. Somewhere that isn't this place. Would you... maybe want to walk that way?"

I can't put more layers on this, cause is in the wrong paper...