getting high with sam for the first time
f!reader. suggestive moments but no smut, fluff if you squint, angstish, childhood best friends to strangers to lovers? idk i just love him. veronica ( a character i made up) is used to replace alyssa bc she's a weirdo lol. lotta emotions, pals. 3.8k
you'd known you wanted to try weed for a while now, it was just a bit intimidating. there's also the fact that you're 18 and you still haven't tried it, some might call you a pussy, but you just like to be precautionary.
there was the anti-drug commericals and your father breathing down your neck about being a functioning member of society. the pressure has become too much. you can't help but remember some of the stoner movies you've seen and they seemed so carefree.
so you started to concote the perfect plan, you'd never gotten in trouble, never even tardy for school. when your parents monthly business trip comes up, you knew exactly what you had to do.
invite sam monroe over for the first time in four years, and ask him to teach you how to get high.
so you think about your childhood best friend turned stranger, sam monroe. he wasn't the nicest, especially after his parents’ divorce. but there was also the fact that he had a soft spot just for you. and supposedly everyone knew, you hadn't witnessed this soft spot in a long time, so you hoped it made him a little nicer. you can't even recall why, maybe a kid crush or something. maybe you never knew at all.
you cleaned your room, made it all nice and hid some of your stuffed animals. if you were to invite sam over, you couldn't look like even more innocent than you already did.
on that fateful friday afternoon, you kissed your parents and bid them farewell. the pair completely oblivious to what their perfect little girl would be up to. a somewhat devious smile played on your lips.
you had harboured some kind of school girl crush on sam, since the two of you grew distant. he was mysterious and quiet now, you wish you knew him. wish you never would have let him slip out of your hands.
maybe that can change, maybe you can sew up the tattered thread of a connection. you wanted to laugh at yourself, you're so worked up about sam fucking monroe. the boy that you used to play in the mud with, but then again you're not just little kids anymore. things were definitely complicated. maybe more than you realized.
you couldn't help but start to pace around your room a bit, what if he said no? what if he just refused to come over? maybe you should cook something enticing, give him a extra reason? you had the weed and rolling papers already, courtesy of josh. you hated talking to him, but he had what you needed.
you walked over to the home phone hanging on the wall, and then to the clock on the stove. 6:30 p.m. the green digits stared back at you. this was a once in a lifetime chance so you swallowed your anxiety and picked up the receiver.
you dialed sam’s mom’s number, having it memorized like it was your own mother's. there was always some part of sam in your head, always stuck with you like a lover slain.
you waited patiently for someone to answer the phone, your heart beating louder than your ears could stand. you were sure this was the dumbest you'd ever felt.
“hello, kimball residence, who am i speaking with?” robin kimball, sam's mother, sounded tired. the kind of exhaustion you onlly get when you hate your life.
“hi robin! it's y/n! i was wondering if you could, uh, get sam for me?” your voice was shaky, but you hoped that she wouldn't pay it too much mind. or that she didn't notice it all.
“oh y/n! it's so nice to speak with you, how have you been?” her voice perked up once she realized who you were. always having been like a second mom to you, during your friendship with sam, guess the whole family has a soft spot for you.
“oh, I'm okay! i was just thinking of sam, and wanted him to come hang out, maybe have a sleepover like we used to!” you tried not to sound so childish, but perhaps it was working in your favor. excitement bleed into your tone, maybe hope too.
robin sighed a little, a mix of sadness and apprehension, “i can try to get him on the phone, but I can't make any promises.”
that confused you. but considering how sam acted at school, you couldn't imagine he was any easier at home.
“what do you want?” his voice felt like venom and ice, but you tried to ignore it.
“i, uh, i have some, uh, i have some w-” your stuttering didn't get you very far, sam was a very impatient boy.
“would you just spit it out,” he sounded less mad, and more just irritated. you imagined he probably dragged a hand down his face.
“sorry, I'm sorry. i just have some weed and wanted u to come over. you don't have to, I don't wanna bother you. bye, sam.” you rambled this out as fast as you possibly could and hung up just as quick.
your nerves and his mean tone became just a little too much, you'd never heard him talk to you like that. you didn't know him anymore. that hurt your heart, much more than you would like to admit. it was a fact, had been for quite some time but something about witnessing it with your own ears. it was real now.
sam stomped up the stairs to his room, closing and locking the door with a slam. he ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the black and blue strands.
“who the fuck does she think she is?” his voice was mingled with various emotions, he couldn't figure them out nor did he really want to.
“doesn't talk to me for four fucking years and then one day just calls me up and asks to hangout?” he's trying to keep his voice to a low mumble. as to not bother his younger siblings, even if he couldn't really stand them.
“tells my mom she wants a sleepover?” he almost wanted to go over there just to give her a piece of his mind. he kicked a box on the floor, and it shot across the room against a wall. he heard peter stomping down the hallway to yell at him, and slipped out of his window. a common practice these days.
he was dressed in cargo pants, his boots and a sweatshirt with the rolling stones logo printed in black and white. he was cursing under his breath, as he made the walk.
he couldn't believe her audacity, but then why would she call him unless he was the only one she could call. that had to be bullshit, she had plenty of friends. ten times more than what sam had.
he kicked a rock and lit a cigarette as he continued down the street, he hated that he could still remember the fastest way to her house. her perfect little house, with a perfect little family.
it was only just then that her words settled, like rain through a fog. i just have some weed and wanted u to come over. you don't have to. why would she have weed, unless her perfect little life wasn't so. course, could have been a lie to get him here. could be a prank, but she was never one to be nasty like that. or at least he hoped she wouldn't steep so low.
he had about a million questions that are going through his head, but the one that stuck out the most, why me? why would she call me out of everyone? it's not like sam was the only stoner in their school, but she still wanted him to come over. it made him puff on the cigarette a little faster.
sam stopped in the middle of the street for a moment, staring at the moon and sun that were now able to be seen at the same time. there was some poetry in this but he didn't want to fucking hear it.
he tried to shake his head of all these thoughts as he walked up the stairs to her front door. at the very bottom, you can still see paint marks of her and his handprints from when they moved in. sam was the first friend she made, he remembers her telling him, they'd be friends forever. feels like a cruel joke now.
you sat on your bed looking anxiously at the baggie that stood out on your bedside table. the nightstand a white wood with a pink lamp, and covered in literature. the weed looked weird and out of place next to them.
the slam of the front door and stomps crawling up the stairs brought you out of thoughts, sam standing in your doorway. he leaned against the wood, just looking at you. he looked pissed, but you were unsure if that was just his neutral expression at this point.
“you called.” he barely uttered two words to you, but you couldn't help the growing smile that stretched your lips.
“i wasn't sure if you'd actually show up!” you wished you didn't sound so happy, it was weakness he was bound to attack. you hoped your best friend, sammy was still in there, somewhere.
“what can i say? free weed, can't let that kind of offer go.” he chuckled as he spoke, and it was almost like you knew him again. but you didn't, he was a stranger in your bedroom, while your parents were hours away at this point.
he almost wanted to break something, he had so many questions, so much to say but now that he was in front of her, he wanted nothing more than to push it all aside. this wasn't like this normally, usually anger was so easy to hold onto. this time, it was like he never had any to begin with.
he slowly wandered into the room, looking over everything you had displayed. you prayed he didn't open the closet and get assualted by plushies. the thought almost made you want to giggle.
he was stuck, stuck holding a picture in his hand. he hadn't seen the polaroid in four years. a cheesing sam stared back at him, so free and fun. your arms were tight around him, couldn't be older than six and you were smiling just as big.
as you came to stand next to him, you looked at the picture in his hand. you were being torn between crying and laughing. it's such a cute picture, one that you thought you'd show your kids one day. but those thoughts were one of a silly little girl who believed that sam would always be by your side. you felt stupid, mad and sad all at once.
“i remember this day,” sam's voice sounds faraway, like he is scared to talk at all. like the picture and you would disappear, and he'd wake up from another dream.
“it was the day our dad's built your pool, and we played all day long.” he finished, looking from the photo to you. it was the first time he's really looked at you. his blue eyes peering into yours, you felt naked under his stare.
“yeah, and we had ice cream and it got everywhere,” you chuckled sadly, this felt like a reunion with a lover rather than a friend. you looked away back to the picture in his hand, taking it you put it back on your mirror. as he watched your hands, he noticed it wasn't the only picture of the two of you. you kept every single one, always one to cherish every memory, even if it hurts more than it helps.
“why do you still have them?” his voice is barely above a whisper like he's scared to hear the answer.
“i always hoped you'd come back, that we'd go back to old times. feels kinda stupid to say out loud” you laughed, bringing your arms around yourself trying to bring yourself some comfort.
you're looking at all the pictures, too scared to see what expression is resting on sam's face now.
“well, I'm here, aren't I?” you finally turned to look at him, your eyebrows creased in worry or concern. you weren't sure. his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, it's awkward and comforting all the same.
“would you have ever came if I didn't call? if i didn't have weed?” your voice might break if it shakes anymore, your tongue sucks over your teeth in anxiety.
“wait, don't answer that. i don't want the answer. i don't think you miss me the way i miss you.” you interrupted him. the second half of your words came out mumbled as you walk away from him and sit on the bed. a tear slid down your face, and it makes a bitter laugh come out of you. you've never wanted someone so close and so fucking faraway from you. you wioed it away and hoped he didn't see it. weakness was not an option.
“you don't get to do this,” his voice is quiet, but you were sure that it wouldn't stay that way.
“you don't get to cry and put words in my mouth, you have no fucking idea how i feel.” he raised his voice a bit and you just rolled your eyes at him. he came to sit opposite to you on the bed.
“yeah, you're right. but you also never fucking talked to me. you were my best friend one day and then avoiding me the next. how the fuck do you think that's gonna make me feel? hell, how the fuck can you just do that to someone.” you were yelling too now, staring at him with so much anger. you weren't even really that mad, you were just hurt.
“that is not what fucking happened. you became friends with josh, that's what happened,” his eyes narrowed at you and you wanted, well you don't know what you want but this is definitely something that needed to happen. josh had been a bully in middle school, i guess much hasn't changed.
“excuse the fuck out of me? i did no such thing, i was friends with veronica. i was friends with her, and then you left. and i know, yes, i know that you fucked vee. you left me, and that wasn't enough.” you were seething at this point, barely able to remember why you even missed him in the first place. you got off the bed, not even being able to look at him.
“i did not fuck veronica. who told you that? let me guess, veronica?” your head whipped in his direction, you stopped in your tracks.
your cheeks warmed as you realized you may have been fed incorrect information, “you didn't? but she and josh both told me on seperate instances.” you felt stupid, you came to sit on the bed again. a sheepish look on your face.
“no, i didn't fuck veronica. are you stupid?” the anger in the room begin to fizzle out, and you smacked his shoulder, “don't say that, I'm not stupid.” you gave him a fake angry look and looked at your feet.
you'd been lied to for four years, four years where sam didn't have be alienated. four years where your best friend could be beside you.
“why’d you stop coming around, then? if it wasn't cause of that? ” the fear of rejection injected to your veins. your lip was tightly pulled between your teeth, an anxious habit. your eyes looked from him to your hands as you waited for him to answer.
“somebody told me you hated me and didn't want me around anymore.” his voice was distant like he couldn't believe his own words. “told me you were just friends with me out of pity.”
“now you're the stupid one.” you laughed dryly, trying to make light of the situation. you bumped your shoulder into his.
“hell, i might be. i doubt if you hated me you'd keep all those cheesy momentos.” he chuckled and you could have savored the feeling that went through your chest. he might be better than any high that weed could give you. if you didn't have a bit of love for him before, you definitely do now.
you felt like a tornado of emotions, you didn't know what was to happen now.
some time passed in silence, you both unsure of what was to happen next. years of pushed down feelings that no longer have a sense of direction.
anxiety creeped up your back, looking at sam he's just looking at you. a slight smile on his lips, it's a sight you could get used to.
“what?” you laughed a bit out of embarrassment.
“you’re just pretty.” his voice was soft and you kinda wanted to throw up. how could all this happen and he can just have the audacity to compliment you. you dropped eye contact but a similar smile could now been seen on your face.
“so, we're good now?” you spoke, eyes glued to the floor. you didn't think you could keep from kissing him, if he kept looking at you like that.
“we’re so good. you ready to smoke?” sam smiled some, and layed back on the bed. his arms falling above his head, he stared at the ceiling. life is just some game, and he's pretty sure he just won big. he felt somewhere between being on cloud nine and being the dumbest motherfucker he's ever met. he can't believe he believed josh about some stupid rumor, instead of just coming to you.
“so, actually the thing about that, i don't know how. i called you so you could teach me because i trust you.” warmth gathered on your cheeks again.
he leans up on one arm to look at you, and he smiles real big, teeth and all. his tongue crossing his lips as he laughs a bit. it was clear though, he wasn't laughing at you, just laughing at the situation. but still you must tease him, make up for lost time.
“sammy, don't laugh at me.” before you could stop yourself, the nicknames spilled out of your lips. a nickname sam hadn't heard in some time and it made his heart skip a beat.
“babe, it's not my fault, you make it so easy.” there he was again, undressing you with his eyes. whether it be intentional or not, you weren't sure. his cheeks glowed a little pink and you couldn't help but giggle. it's fair game at this point. you never knew sam as someone to use alot of pet names, is he trying to pick you up?
“yeah, well, you're blushing, dork.” it was a dumb retort, and on top of it all you stuck out your tongue at him. crossing your arms like the brat that you are. it seemed your question answered itself. you were somewhere between friends and lovers, and that scared the shit out of you.
“no I'm not.” he said incredulously, like it was something that was physically impossible. he quick to get off the bed, pushing at his cheeks in the mirror.
you're happy to skip up beside him, “yeah, you are, it's like you have a crush on me or something." you giggled. another thing that should have been left unsaid, spoken by you again. it was necessary, you had to know the truth. it felt like life or death, at this moment.
he stands up beside you, and it's only then that you notice he's got at least half a foot on you. it feels intimidating when he smirks at you.
“what if i do? maybe i like to make cute girls squirm,” his hands come to rest on your hips, and you were sure you were gonna faint, have a heart attack, or maybe die.
“sam, what are you doing.” it wasn't a question, cause you didn't want the answer.
“i'm touching you, is that okay?” you can't help but dumbly nod. he leaning towards you and you let him. his lips are soft against yours, and he pulls you closer. his smell and taste was intoxicating. you were sure if you were dead, this would be what heaven felt like.
your hands come to rest on his chest, letting him kiss you a bit longer before pushing him away.
“i-i think we should smoke, yeah, i think we should do that.” you weren't even sure what you were saying at this point. but you didn't want to just get him back and immediately jump into bed. you're not ready for that yet.
“whatever you want, doll.” he presses one soft, chaste kiss to your forehead and walks towards the weed and the rolling papers. you were almoat confused as you followed him back to the bed, who is this man? you wanted to kick your feet and acream into your pillow.
you watch as his skilled, ring-clad fingers pushed the weed into the white papers. you thought you might have a health issue when his tongue dipped over his lips to wet the paper. your reaction doesn't go unnoticed by him, so he just chuckles and finishes sealing the joint.
“now, what you're gonna do, and I'll demonstrate too. put the paper between your lips,” he explained everything in excruciating detail, and it made your legs clamp together a little. you needed more self control, maybe, but you weren't going to let all this get to you. not this fast, it wasn't fair.
setting the paper between his lips, he pulled a lighter out of his pocket, it was white all the plastic wrap has been picked off of it.
“when you hit it, take small puffs, breathe in and then exhale, like this okay?” he making eye contact with you as he does so.
he hands you the joint and you hope it helps you recollect yourself. you do exactly as he said and did, and somehow still end up coughing up a lung. irritated eyes making contact with his playful ocean ones.
“try again, it'll get easier, you're just a baby stoner.” he rubbed your back a little, and you tried again. this time it went down smoothly and you could feel something as soon as you exhaled. you hand him the joint and watch his expert smoking habits.
you never knew how hot someone smoking could be, but here he was. sam, your sam, looked like some bad boy in a teen cliche film. you never knew why girls would go for guys like this, but now you got it.
the two of you spent the rest of the night recalling stories, watching comfort films and laying in his arms. he held you tight, and smoked you out until you were nothing but a giggly, high mess. he got decently stoned himself and you feel asleep like that.
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i've had such a weird relationship with making fanon things lately for a few diff reasons i think.
i haven't rly been inspired enough to take things beyond my thoughts and make an actual thing out of them. part of this is probs bc of my medication. the other part is that...
i don't have the time to dig too deeply into my favorite things rn. this means i don't dig up new parts to feel excited about, i don't feel Qualified to carry those ideas out bc my understanding of the source material is so limited and people expect waaaay too much quality from fanworks these days, and i feel like i'll never be able to finish what i start anyway.
lastly, i've been doing fandom so repetitively i'm just... tired? of the same thing over and over again. i work on a thing, i polish the thing, i post the thing, i wait for feedback that is either nice/mean/empty, rinse and repeat. the solution would be to just not post these things, but why go through all that effort to carry something up out of an idea stage then since that's what makes me most excited? and if i spend the time drafting, it feels like a waste of time since it's not going to go anywhere.
i do think a lot of this is medication, because it dulls Just how insane i am capable of getting about a thing. in the past i would have sooo much drive because i felt like if i didn't make a thing, i'd explode. i don't rly get that anymore, at least not in a big enough burst to keep me working on things very long.
i've instead been thinking a lot about diving into original content because... although i make everything for fun, i think original stuff has way less of the above issues attached.
there's no time limit. i'm not... "competing" for being able to get an idea done first, or trying to get a fanfic out while there's still hype over a show, or worrying about my work being ooc compared to someone else's, or worrying the fandom landscape i vibe with is going to change when people move on.
it's theoretically not as repetitive. i'm sure the things i'm interested in shows are similar to what i come up with from my brain, and i could just try to make different things for fandom than i'm used to. but i am kind of tired of my inability to do anything besides hurt/comfort oneshots for the same kind of pairing over and over again. this would force me to actually develop other shit too lmfao.
it's Technically something i could profit off of if i really wanted to, making it less of a waste of time. for fandom, it feels like a waste of time if i'm not putting a fanon thing out for other fans to see. it also feels like i put a ton of work into my own little understanding of a show--fleshing out backstories and worldbuilding etc. so if i move onto another fandom... it feels like it was all for nothing, esp if i don't make something from it all. ideally i would be doing it just for the fun but there needs to be some balance with what i consider pay-off. and since i usually don't stay motivated long enough to do these big huge projects, or people move on, or other people do the idea first because i work so slow, it's just gotten rly un-motivating.
there's like, layers of motivation imo. i like a thing and i get excitement about making stuff for it and exploring certain parts of it. and i can do that for myself, but to make it stand on its own enough to post for other people to see isn't something i currently get enough motivation for. and because of that, it makes the fun part feel like a waste of time i guess.
i usually stay away from my own original stuff bc i honestly just don't feel the level of excitement with it as i have felt with fandom in the past, and... it's just harder lmao? but i think it would be good for me to at least fuck around with it.
fandom started as a vessel for creativity for me. i wanted to make videos, it gave me footage. i wanted to draw, it gave me designs for characters. i wanted to write, it gave me a sandbox to play in. and i still find those things fun, but i guess it just feels like i'm limiting myself by only playing with other people's dolls in a public park for all to see. like i'm just not as connected to the Making part as a hobby or to the parts of myself i would put into it.
idk, i am just rambling and i think honestly if i Did have more time it would help take a lot of the above pressures and risks away and balance me out so that making silly little fanfics sometimes would feel more worth it because i'd feel free to do other things as well.
i also do sort of get glued to the screen when i'm in mode of making and posting things and i'd like to uhhh. do other things with my life too sometimes lmfao. part of this boredom does probably stem from being chronically ill and therefore barely leaving my house. i haven't been able to do other things beyond fanon creations in years. so no wonder i'd feel less inspired and more bored.
i also think i've gotten tired of watching things feeling like a chore. oh shit i need to write down this scene so i can use it on a fanvid, or make sure i take note of this piece of dialogue for this character's backstory, etc. i know i bitch about how i don't hate the word "content creator" bc it is just an easier catch-all for me as someone who makes lots of diff things, and i still agree with that, but i do think because of my own levels of perfectionism, mixed with honestly how weirdly expectant of quality fandom has become, it's become a chore to engage with source material.
another thing is i've always felt like i've needed a purpose in what i've made and that purpose tends to be justified by the community interactions. it makes me feel less lonely and it helps me feel inspired and like... it doesn't hurt to know you'll get feedback on something because you've found so many supportive friends in it. i rly just haven't landed in any new communities i vibe with a ton for the things ive gotten into lately, so there's less motivation there. that's not to say anyone's Bad, just... discord servers are too big, tags are too dead or all over the place, i don't message people to become friends, and the communities and friends i do have from fandom are all kinda doing different things rn, etc.
the other form of purpose would be challenges--exchanges, bingos, etc. this fanwork isn't just a random thing for fun, it has a reason for me to work on it enough to let it see the light of day. and i think i've kinda broken my brain a bit using those for motivation so much, but the alternative would be to never get anything into a publishable state, but without it being a publishable state and interacting with communities through it there's no reason for me to really spend all that much time on it in the first place, which means i'm really not getting to Create.
i think the biggest issue these days if every part of the creative process now feels like it's "for show" and original stuff that has literally no audience is the only way to kinda undo the amount of rules that's put on me and my creativity.
tl;dr i'm just not feeling the same fulfillment from making fanon stuff as i used to so i guess i need to experiment with making other things so i can still do the Making part and see where that lands me, and see if it can help undo some of the toxic mentalities being an exclusively fandom girlie for so long has kinda instilled in me.
i'm sure i'll still make fanon shit every so often--i honestly have been so busy that output won't be noticeably different from my usual once every five months contributions. i just need to get back into the right blend of circumstances for it to feel worth it, and until then i guess i need to dig out the dolls from my own attic instead of someone else's so i can have a less complicated vessel for creative hobbies because i'm fairly certain i'd still like to create.
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