#standford!sam

pairing. standford!sam winchester x college student!reader

genre. very fluffy

contains. est. relationship, close proximity, flustered sam, one kiss

you had started a cute tradition with sam

one soda tab given. a kiss received

summary: stanford!sam works at the front desk of his residence hall. while picking up a package, you share an awkward moment. a few days later, after a night out, you go to him when your roommate locks you out of your room. pairing: stanford!sam winchester x f!reader (“y/n” used once) content: both are 20. sam winchester is the sweetest. soft sam winchester. shy girl. nerd sam. slow burn. mutual pining. tipsy reader. no like painfully slow burn with no reward. word ct: 2.4k notes: i am a sucker for slow burns & awkward conversations. that is all. not proofread. lowercase intended.

you walk in long strides, and puddles splash the bottoms of your jeans, the denim shifting to a dark blue. you huff with frustration, bringing your umbrella down closer to the top of your head. your body shivers, the cold rain nipping at your skin despite your efforts to hold your rain jacket closed. where the fuck did this come from?

you could have sworn you’d checked the weather this morning before leaving for class.

slight breeze, seventy five, and partly cloudy.

now, it was dark and stormy, and your teeth chattered on your painfully long walk back to your residence hall. you were miserable. you had had a long day that could only be described as unfortunate.

first, you woke up that morning to the all too familiar color of red soaking through your bedsheets and the slight metallic scent of iron. after throwing your sheets into the hamper— because of course every washing machine was full— you dropped your last granola bar onto the hallway stairs that were for sure caked with a multitude of mysterious liquids and bodily fluids. luckily, lab went well. all three hours of it. no beakers dropped, no cotten balls set on fire, and no mistaking grams for ounces (not your brightest moment). afterwards, you even had the pleasure of finding a seat in the library to quietly eat your lunch.

you wish you hadn’t taken those four hours for granted, because everything went downhill from there. there was a brief moment in which you even sifted through far away memories in an effort to recall whether you had once broken a mirror or walked beneath a ladder.

in your next class, you sat down and gathered your supplies. computer, check, water bottle, check, calculator, check, ipad, check, wait— you forgot your ipad. in both classes, you were forced to face your classmates, cheeks flushed and pink, voice small when you asked for a piece of paper.

and here you were, hours later, walking back in a torrential downpour. the wind was strong. five minutes from your res hall, a particularly powerful gust blew your umbrella, flipping it inside out. in that moment, you truthfully believed that you were god’s strongest soldier.

you gasped, stumbling around as you desperately tried to fix it. the rain pelted you, temporarily blurring your vision. fuck this. you gave up, and broke out into a jog.

—

you breathed hard, soft gasps leaving your lips as you made it beneath the roof. droplets of rainwater slid down your nose and onto your lips. you licked them off… cold and fresh.

“stupid piece of sh…” you mumbled quietly to yourself as you shook the broken umbrella. you finally stepped into your building where it was warm and dry. you pulled your hood off your head. somehow, your hair was mostly dry. frazzled, but dry.

your body still shook from the cold, but the comfortable heat coming from the radiators encompassed you, and you felt like you could finally relax.

you turned to walk towards the stairway, wanting to get to the laundry room as fast as possible. there’s gotta be at least one washer open at this time of day.

but you paused in your tracks, remembering an email you’d received on your school account. your package has been delivered! your delivery may be found at… you sighed, turning around on the balls of your heels and made your way to the front desk.

there, a boy with messy brown hair sat with his nose buried in a large book. you took a short breath, suddenly very aware of your damp appearance. you stood still for a moment, but he didnt look up from his book.

“uh, hi.” you spoke softly, cheeks pink. you brushed a strand of hair from your face.

the boy’s head snapped up. “oh, hi! sorry, i, uh, didn’t see you. what can i help you with?” his eyes met yours. they were apologetic. pretty too.

“sorry to bother you. um, i just, uh, i think i got a package.” you were stumbling over your words. you were wet, your broken umbrella hung limp in your hands, and you knew your backpack was probably soaked through. you were suddenly hyperaware of everything, and you could only imagine how dumb you looked.

“no problem, just scan here.” he smiled and pushed a small black box towards you. he rose from his seat and he was suddenly much taller than he originally seemed. he closed his book to show the cover, which had constitutional law written in large font.

you fumbled around for your phone, which was in your left back pocket. the opposite one that you usually put it in. you mentally eye rolled at yourself.

“wet out there, hm?” the mail boy teased, making small talk. “just a little”. you saw the corner of his lips curl into a small smile. you pulled out your phone, hovering it above the scanner. a small ding rang out. you watched as his gaze fell to the computer in front of him, and then back to you. “y/n?”

“that’s me”. you smiled weakly, a nervous giggle escaping your lips. he gave a small nod. “i’ll be right out.” he disappeared through a door that led to the mail room. you rocked back and forth on your heels, humming softly. no song in particular, just as a means of grounding yourself. you were getting antsy, mentally walking through the steps you’d take immediately after this debacle.

grab the package, go upstairs, throw down your bag, grab hamper, walk back downstairs to go to the laundry room. or should you check to make sure there’s an open washing machine before you go upstairs? that would save you some effort, but—

“hey, you’re the girl that’s always getting absurdly large packages, aren’t you?” the mail boy broke your train of thought as he appeared with your package. you blushed again— something you seemed to be doing a lot of today. “oh, uhh, probably?” you squinted, scratching the back of your head. fuck, that’s embarrassing.

“uh, who told you that?” you forced a chuckle. he walked through the side door of the office and made his way to you. he handed you the package, which, to be fair, was absurdly large. he hovered his hands over yours, ensuring that you had a good grip. “leila. one of the other front desk attendants.” he took a step back. “uh, not to call you out or embarrass you or anything, i just… realized it was you… i guess.”

he stood there in front of you. he was very tall, but his gentle demeanor and soft hoodie made him much less intimidating than he probably should be.

your lips straightened and you sighed. “no, no— it’s chill. of course she did. uh, we’re roommates.”

of course it was leila. she’s your best friend, and apparently, your number one fan. leila is someone who makes conversation with anybody wherever she goes. no detail is lost on her, and nothing is ever too much information. you loved that about her though. seeing her speak so confidently made you feel more comfortable to do so.

“here, i’ll take this. it… probably won’t do you any good anymore.” the boy took the broken umbrella from your hand. in a split second, his eyes scanned your body. you mumbled a shy thanks. your hand was no longer cramping and you had a better grip on the box. you turned away, ready to finally go back to your dorm.

“oh, uh. it’s cat litter… by the way.” you spoke. the boy, who was making his own way back to the desk turned around. he tilted his head curiously, eyes furrowing.

“the packages. i have a cat.” the boy only chuckled. it was breathy. “i suppose that makes sense.”

you turned back around, almost getting to the stairs before you heard his voice once more, this time, a bit louder. “uh, i’m sam by the way!” he called. you simply smiled.

—

nearly every day after that interaction, you’d notice sam working at the front desk. mostly night shifts. some nights you’d catch each others’ eyes, but most days, he didn’t look up from his book.

you didn’t quite understand why, but there was small flutter of anxiety in your stomach whenever you passed.

—

you hiccuped. not loudly, just one of those tiny ones that lingers in your throat and makes your face scrunch up.

"shit," you whispered, wobbling slightly as you stepped back from the door. your dorm key had worked earlier, but that was hours ago when you dropped your jacket off before heading out to the bars. now, as you jiggled it for the fourth time, it gave a stubborn click and refused to turn.

"leila!" you whisper-yelled, knocking your fist lightly against the wooden door. "open up!”

nothing. silence. the girl had fallen asleep on her bed before pregame even ended. you weren’t much of a partier, leila even less so, but your some of your lab friends had begged you to go out that night.

begrudgingly, you did, although you still walked home early. you were dressed in a black mini skirt that piper, your labmate, had given you. it wasn’t much your style, but you had to admit, you looked pretty.

you sighed dramatically, letting your forehead fall against the door. your cheeks were warm, flushed, from a mixture of alcohol and the walk home. it was too late to be locked out. and it was too uncomfortable for you to sit out here like a stray cat, though you vaguely considered curling up like one in the stairwell.

you could risk spiders crawling over your body, or you could risk getting on the bad side of your neighbors and ra by pounding on the door some more.

then you remembered something—or someone.

the desk.

sam.

you froze in place. your stomach fluttered again, like it always seemed to do when his name flickered into your brain. you feel like you’ve been hearing that name everywhere lately. like you’re seeking it out.

go downstairs, ask him to let you in, easy. no big deal. except— you were slightly tipsy. not drunk. just… looser. more likely to say something stupid.

you checked your phone. 12:30am. would he be working at this hour? on a friday night?

you tried to smooth your hair, pull your jacket into place, and straighten your expression before beginning the quiet descent to the front desk.

you peeked around the corner. he was there. of course he was. book open. hoodie sleeves pulled over his palms. a soft desk lamp illuminated him in gold, and your heartbeat sped up ever so slightly.

as you stepped into view, his eyes lifted like he’d felt you coming.

you tried for a casual wave. "hey."

he blinked once, then smiled slowly, almost like the expression snuck up on him.

"hey," he said, voice soft. "you okay?"

you crossed your arms, half for warmth, half for composure. chills ran down your spine, and yet you felt hot all at once. "uh. not really. leila locked me out." you added, a little sheepishly, "i think she fell asleep."

"i tried to be responsible," you offered, shrugging, lips curved in a small, helpless smile. "came home early. didn’t lose my ID. wore two layers." you flailed your arms out, letting them hit your sides.

sam chuckled. his eyes sparkled beneath the glow of the lamp. has he always been this pretty?

"honestly? A plus."

you laughed. it made you sway a little in place.

his eyes caught it, flickering from your eyes to your shoes. “do you want to sit for a second?" he stood, making his way to the door, and leaving his book to sit open on the desk.

you hesitated, but padded over, perching on the bench by the desk. sam took a seat next to you. your knees bumped eachother. your fingers picked at your sleeves.

"you’re not gonna narc on me, are you?"

he mocked a serious look. "depends. how many drinks?"

"like... two and a half?" your gaze was fixed on the floor.

he raised a brow and tilting his head, forcing his eyes to meet yours. you felt shy, like he was really seeing you.

"okay, three." you admitted, nose scrunching.

his smile grew. he let out a heavy breath. "good. you're alright. i mean, you walked here in a straight line, right?"

“ish.” you muttered.

he huffed a laugh and shook his head, messy bangs falling over his eyebrows. "do you want me to let you back in?"

you nodded, relieved.

"yes. please. i promise i’ll owe you, like, you can meet my cat. or, i’ll buy you some— some candy?” your words came quick, stumbling from your lips. you couldn’t help but shake your head at the stupidity of what you had said.

sam went back into the office and returned with a key ring. he glanced down at you, gaze lingering just a second too long.

"you have glitter on your face."

your hand immediately flew to your cheek.

"oh god. where?"

he bent down so he could lean a little closer, eyes big and warm.

"left side. no—uh, right. here." he pointed near his own cheekbones.

"great. now i’m sparkly and locked out. just my luck."

"you’re… kind of charming, actually." he said it so casually that it took a second to register. you nearly lost your step as he offered his hand. you took it slowly, standing up.

your stomach flipped. your eyes widened slightly, meeting his. then he was already turning, pretending like he hadn’t said it.

you followed in stunned silence as he led you upstairs. once you reached the second floor, you guided him towards your dorm.

at your door, he fiddled with the keys, finally clicking the right one in. the door creaked open, casting soft yellow light over both of you. on her lofted bed, you could just barely make out the shape of leila, who seemed to be fast asleep.

you turned to thank him, your mouth already open, but he beat you to it.

"i’m glad you came to me. like—not just because i work here, but…" he trailed off, suddenly bashful.

"i'm glad, too," you whispered. you stepped inside, pausing in the doorway. "hey, sam?" you were feeling brave. or maybe this was the alcohol taking control.

he glanced up, eyes warm.

"you’re kind of charming, too." his face flushed.

"thanks," he mumbled, then looked down at his shoes like he’d said something embarrassing. after a beat, he spoke, “goodnight. i’ll see you around.”

he planted a light kiss on your cheek. heat washed over your face. “goodnight, sam.”

you smiled to yourself as you shut the door, pressing your back against it. lifting your hand, you could feel a rough patch of skin. you still had glitter on your cheek. and unbeknownst to sam, under the harsh white lights of the hallway, his lips sparkled.

—

thank you for reading! i used to write on wattpad years ago, but this is my first tumblr fic! i hope you guys enjoy :)

PAIRING : stanford!sam winchester x fem!reader

SUMMARY : reader is stressed from studying for her upcoming final and sam helps her relax

WARNINGS : fluff. smut. oral (fem. receiving). fingering. rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie. strong language.

REQUESTED BY @s4wdvator : “I would love a Sam Winchester fic, I love him, I’m a total Sam girl who also loves Dean hejehjhehe. It would be a Stanford thing!Sam dating Fem!Reader, it could be smutt or fluff!!”

A/N : this was requested by a fellow mutual of mine (sorry it took so long.) hopefully it’s similar to what you had in mind, if not, hope you enjoy it anyway! my requests are currently on hold since i have so many ideas of my own that i still need to write, but it'll be open in the future, i promise. this is my first sam oneshot ever, hope you guys enjoy it!

For the past week, you went to class and then straight home. You had a huge test coming up that counted for half your grade. If you failed, you could kiss your scholarship goodbye. So, for the weekend, you decided to turn your distracting phone off so you could study. And it seemed to work...until it didn’t.

     With spring finals starting in two days, the library was packed. People carved out study nooks wherever they could, regardless of chair or appropriate surface. Sam had a late lecture, which pushed his studying hours back and left him little hope of finding a spot. 

    He stepped over kids who had spilled out into the aisles on the main floor before making his way up to the mezzanine. The tables, though more spread out, were fewer in number, leaving Sam trekking up to the third floor and the study cubbies.

    There, in the third row, the second to last cubby was empty. Sam quickly unpacked his gear and found out why he had gotten so lucky with a vacant space. The chair was missing a foot and even with the thick carpeting, it wobbled. 

    Sam closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose. It could be worse, he told himself before getting to work. He plowed through his Econ notes before getting started on making his Sociology into a paper and not just an outline. 

    Somewhere close to ten o’clock, Sam caught the smell of ramen in the air. The student presence on the third floor had slowly dwindled, so he had to look around to be sure his nose was correct. There, in the last cubicle was a girl slurping from a Cup O’Noodles. Sam gaped at her etiquette.