#jealous!sam

[momomarjijo]

it's a good time to remember that what sam felt for benny wasn't resentment of "dean's hypocrisy"; the guy was jealous to the core.

[wincestwhispers]

Jealous, Sam? // Jealous Sea, MEG MYERS

[teslagraves]

Trying not to be too jealous there, eh Sammy? Or do you like watching your brother kiss people, you freak?

[according2thelore]

Hii! I hope your having a lovely week!

I personally love possessive/jealous sam so how do you think Sam reacts to Cas's handprint on Dean's shoulder? I haven't seen this yet and I'm really curious. I feel like he would be grateful because dean is back but also incredibly jealous/possessive

hi, anon!

i also hope you're having a great week! i also ADORE jealous/possessive!sam, so PLEASE let's talk about it!~

i think would react pretty damn terribly to this, to be quite honest. if cas had just left his handprint on dean's shoulder, sam would still be pissed, but he absolutely loses it at the fact that cas also erased all of dean's other scars.

he's literally wiping sam's childhood and love and decades of effort sewing dean back together and replacing it with a brand like dean is cattle.

he's wiped sam completely from dean's skin and put his own mark on him instead.

in a world where dean and sam are together, sam takes him to bed as soon as they're alone and strips dean down hungrily and desperately, so needy to see dean's skin healed from his hellhound wounds that his hands shake. he doesn't see them and exhales shakily, tears at his waterlines. his hands trace dean's unmarked stomach, and then his hands fall to his landmarks that let sam know that it is his brother he's touching, the familiar jagged scar on his back over his ribs, the puckered one at his right hip.

and his hands slide right over smooth skin. sam freezes. he spent an hour sewing the one on dean's back up, and he'd been so scared as dean got more and more hypovolemic that he'd pinched the skin too close together and it healed crooked.

dean's body is strange to him, and he starts to hyperventilate, because when he was dreaming and dean was next to him, sam could never touch him, or he'd touch him and he'd feel wrong.

dean kinda smiles because it's ironic that after he's more broken than ever, has felt more knives and claws and teeth and nails than he'd ever felt in life, is completely smooth. he asks sam if he likes the new digs, because now he's--physically--pretty perfect.

sam's actually hyperventilating now, and shoves dean's flannel off of his shoulders. he sees the burn. the hand. his entire world sticks, freezes, slides around him awkwardly, as he focuses on the arm.

sam's not hard anymore, and can't get hard again, even after dean's calmed him down. sam just folds into dean's chest and closes his eyes tight, digging his temple into the sharp horn of the amulet, the only thing on dean's body that feels familiar. his hands are folded around himself in a hug so he won't reach out for dean in his sleep and find a stranger in the bed.

in a world where they're not together yet, sam discovers this when dean comes out of the bathroom after a shower with his shirt on which he never has. sam becomes suspicious and so anxious he's nauseous, and seeks out dean's naked skin anywhere he can find it.

either way, as soon as he can actually make himself look at it, he places his own hand over the skin, the size of his hand dwarfing the print. he asks dean how it feels. dean shrugs. it's a burn, he says. it kind of feels numb.

sam brushes his lips over it, penance and guilt because he thinks it's a mark from hell, but when he finds out castiel left it, oh. oh okay yeah.

he's PISSED. he is much less willing to listen to what they have to say, especially cas. cas calls him unclean and sam feels it like a sucker punch, because dean's body has been made holy in his absence. he could only be a temple, a vessel, a purpose, when sam is gone from his skin in every way.

as the show progresses and they get more and more tangled in each other, sam can't keep his hand off of it when they fuck, his fingernails digging into the scar when dean pumps into him, holding like dean will slip away. when he's fucking dean, he'll bend down and lick over it, bite down on it, anything to show that he is here and cas is not. that sam is allowed to do this and cas is not. he gets extra needy, and shudders whenever dean praises him, or tells him he's the only one.

one time, after sam finishes sucking dean's brain out of his dick, he bends over dean and their hands tangle over his dick and he begs dean to let him, please, dean, please let me, and dean doesn't know what sam means until sam bends down to nose at the burn, and dean is nodding and saying yes, sammy, anything, and sam lurches up and comes all over dean's arm, ropes splashed across cas's palm.

later, after sam has swiped his thumb through it to ostensibly clean it up, but mostly to rub it in like a goddamn caveman, he asks dean if he can feel cas. dean answers honestly. no. it's the thing that brought him back to sam, and even when dean was looking at it for the first time, his first thought after was where's sammy?

sam is barely appeased by this.

cas is so lucky that sam is soulless when he says that he and dean have a more "profound bond" because sam would've shut DOWN.

eventually, as dean starts to accumulate scars and freckles and bumps and bruises again, sam settles, and is able to see the scar how dean sees it, instead of a claiming mark.

sam drops his lips to it when he comes up behind dean at the stove sometimes, just to feel dean smack at his hair and tell him to top being such a girl.

but this doesn't mean sam doesn't want his own permanent mark on dean, and when dean gets his anti-possession tattoo reapplied, sam can't take his hands off of the plastic wrap. and if dean gets sam's tiny initials tattooed on the inside of his arm, at the soft, vulnerable flesh near his armpit, who has to be the wiser.

i wrote a ficlet (kinda) one time about dean who has tattoos and gets sam's initials in his handwriting tattooed, and when he comes back from hell, he asks sam to carve it back in with a knife because they don't get to take it away.

also, i have a hc that when pulling sam out of the cage, cas grabbed him somewhere below the belt like his thigh or calf because we never see a mark, and i can only IMAGINE how dean reacts to something like that.

all this to say, yes, i think sam is very possessive and jealous of cas's handprint.

i found two fics on ao3 about that, but i'm sure there's more i just couldn't find off the top of my nog:

Marked for Life by dragonspell & MoragMacPherson; E, 4.4k

Dean never noticed how often Sam touched his shoulder until he got back from Hell.

The Mark by verucasalt123; M, 808

Prompt was: Sam has a hard time seeing someone else’s mark on Dean.

thank you so much for this ask, anon! <3

-lizzy

[sweetiecelin]

The Blind Leading the Blind

Chapter 2

You and Sam the biggest idiots. Sometimes, when you want to see something you have to take a step back. It's just you and Sam are just into being really good friends. Everyone else can see beside you dumbasses.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Mentions of death/killing, Sam and you just getting on each others nerves, Hurt(no comfort), jealousy

~~

You woke up with a sharp pain shooting through your head. The headache reminded you of the worst hangovers you had when you were a teenager, going to parties every other night. Using both your hands, you started pressing on your temple- as if that was going to work. You barely remember getting to your bed, the flannel you were wearing was haphazardly discarded on the floor. 

When you looked at your nightstand, there was a glass of water and a bottle of generic aspirin with a little note, “Thought you might need these after last night, Sam”. God sometimes, he was truly the best. 

After you popped a couple of the pills, you found the willpower to get out of bed. Slowly making it out of your room, the bunker’s lights were testing your strength to even get out of the hallways. You managed to stumble your way to the kitchen, just to have the nauseating smell of Dean’s “hangover cure” fill your nose. Dean stood in front of the stove, mumbling one of the classic rock songs that was stuck in his head. 

Covering your mouth you made your way to Sam sitting at the table, drinking one of his nasty ass protein shakes he made. You stared at the mixture with pure disdain.

“I don’t know how in the hell you drink those,” You muttered, while shielding your eyes the best you can from the overhead lights beaming at you.

Sam looked at your expression and then at the drink, “It’s good for you, you should try it sometimes. Y’know instead of clogging your arteries with Dean.”

Snorting, you just shook your head, “At least it doesn't taste like ass.”

Dean agreed, still attending to the food, “She’s gotta point, Sam. At least this tastes amazing if I do say so myself.” 

Trying to ignore the aching feeling in your stomach, you start preparing to eat the greasy food in front of you s Dean plopped at the table. There were two different eggs, bacon, toast and sausage. You managed to put some food on your plate as Dean started devouring what he already grabbed. 

“So, while you two took your sweet time getting up, I found us a case.”

Your mood suddenly shifted from miserable to intrigued, “Really? What is it?”

Sam continued as Dean kept shoveling food into his mouth, “Well, if you’d let me continue, it’s a group of kids that went missing in a small town, Dewhurst. All lived in the same town, all went missing along the same road.”

You turned to him, “So maybe a lady in white?”

“No, unfortunately a completely different MO. So it doesn’t match the profile-” Sam had started.

Dean cut in, raising his hand motioning to stop, “Can we eat first and discuss details later?”

Both you and Sam had shared a look. The two of you know that the older Winchester would like to enjoy the few moments of peace that came with his meals now. 

You looked at the plate in front of you, and the empty cup Sam’s shake was in, “Sam, can you just help me finish this, if I eat all of it I won't be able to keep it down.”

Looking at you with amusement, he reluctantly agreed. You managed to get most of the egg on your plate, some pieces of bacon down, but just stared at the rest repulsively. Noticing this, Sam really tried to help clear your plate

After eating, you all went to the library, taking seats at one of the tables there. Sam pulled up his laptop, trying to pull up all the information he had already collected. You always appreciated his organization when it came to cases, it made it easier when you just wanted to jump in and help. 

“So, like I was saying- all teenagers, all the same strip of road, missing with no trace of them going anywhere. They all went to different schools, different grades and different class schedules.” Sam picked up from the place he left off in the kitchen.

You ticked your head to the side, “How about extracurriculars? Maybe there’s a connection that way? Or do the families know each other?”

“Yeah, no connections through programs- Wait, it looks like all the families were connected through city events,” Sam followed up, barely letting his eyes leave the laptop as he attempted to dig deeper.

You glanced at the brothers before sighing, “I guess it’s time to move our asses and burn that ghost.”

Dean agreed, so all of you went to pack your ‘go bags’. Less than thirty minutes later, you were all piled in the car.

~~

Five hours later, you arrived in Dewhurst. Dean attempted to get two rooms, but there was only one left. You all agreed that the bed situation would be figured out later. Once settled, it was decided that it was time to go work with local law enforcement. While Sam and Dean were dressed in their professional suits, you were wearing a nice blouse and blazer, accompanied by a tight pencil skirt. The skirt was solely to manipulate the male sheriff to be more willing to share details about the case.

It worked. And on his deputies too.

While you and Sam gather more info; The families were descended from the original founding families, minus one- The Winslows. The other families became integral to the development of the town. Collins for the mine, Thompsons for the port, and Jamisons for mainly being the family more often than not in power.

You chatted up the deputies to see if there was more to the case. Deputy Crawford was the first one to crack, “It was so gruesome that some of the new officers may have gagged a little. The body had been torn apart, almost in half. I just hope the kid wasn’t alive when he was split in two.”

“Wow, that sounds terrible,” you feigned naive shock, “Was there anything off about the scene too you? Besides the body,” you probed just a little further, running your hand down his arm.

His eye returned to yours, with a glint of something else, “Aren’t you just a curious cat? I’m sure there’s more details in the report.”

“Well, I’m just naturally inquisitive about weird things; It’s why I joined the FBI y’know,” 

“Someone might get the wrong idea when you mention ‘weird things’, more adventurous things.” He grinned at you.

When Sam was finished discussing the investigations of the deaths, he noticed your little exchange. How the deputy was sneaking glances of your body up and down, how you were a bit too flirtatious with him. He headed your way and managed a suave way to pull you away from the conversation, bringing you to a less populated part of the station. 

Calling your name he started in on you, “What the hell are you doing? We’re supposed to be professionals, not hooking up with one of the cops we’re supposed to be working with,” Sam hissed at you, boring into your eyes.

You yanked your arm away from his grasp, “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but I am a perfectly grown woman and a skilled hunter. I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Yeah? That’s why you’re flirting with him?” 

“Listen Sam, stop being a dick head. I’m getting more information on the case.”

“How, by throwing yourself at him?” He started glaring into you, which only fueled your irritation. You huffed and walked away from him to Dean who was just looking at the tiff you and Sam just had.

He opens his mouth to say something but the look you shoot his way stopped him. Sam shortly followed you with clenched fists, pushing past Dean outside to the car. Dean thought about the scene he witnessed before Sam dragged you away, and just chuckled.

Shortly later, all of you arrived at the motel. It was time to decide who had the beds or the one chair in the corner of the room. 

You looked at the tall brothers and giggled, “Guess I’m taking the cuck chair.”

Immediately they both turned and looked at you, but it was Dean that spoke first, “The what chair?”

“The cuck chair,” You said like it was general knowledge, “You know the chair the husband sits in when his wife-”

Sam put his hand up to signal you to stop, “Jesus, please don’t continue. You’re not taking the chair, one of us can go sleep in the impala.”

Dean sighed and agreed, “We all need to be well rested if we’re going to investigate the scenes tomorrow.”

“Okay, then I’ll be the one to sleep in the impala,” you replied, “I’m sure I fit better, than either one of you crammed into the backseat.”

Shaking his head, Sam rebuked you, “No, just share with one of us.”

You looked at him with shock, “Yeah, like Dean will share and I’ll sleep next to you after the shit you pulled at the station? Hard pass.”

Dean just rolled his eyes, walking away to one of the laptops that was on the motel table. He was tired and done with listening to the two of you bickering. He thought the two of you should just confess your feeling to each other, but you two were just too fucking blind to see the signs. How you stared at Sam, how you always listened so deeply when he explained something about the current book he was reading or about new lore he came across. Or how Sam would always push you to share something with him and being disappointed when you clammed up, how Sam would simply listen to you rant about the stupid crap some hunter pulled in the pass. One of the last straws was this exact situation, which happened a little too often when you were on cases or at the bar, when either of you would get jealous when Sam or you flirted with other people openly in front of each other.

Still pissed, you sat down and grabbed the folder that the sheriff gave the boys to look at crime scene photos. Something was off, you just couldn’t pinpoint it. You scanned the images trying to find similarities between the pictures, it was like trying to play a game of iSpy but everything just blurred together. 

Finally, you saw it. It was words that were carved into the far corner of the room. It was something ‘hid it’. You thought about what one of the detectives said, there was one of the four families that founded the town that was killed.

“Hey guys, what did we find out about the Winslows?” 

“Winslows,” Sam glanced up at you before typing away at the keyboard in front of him, “1836, all family members had their throats slit in their beds, one of the daughters had been found with a knife in her hands with her throat slit too. Law enforcement at the time had assumed she did it.”

Dean added on to your initial questions, “They assumed?”

“Yeah, Mortimer Jameison said ‘Melinda was deranged, had conversations with herself’ and John Thompson shared that she had tried seducing several of the men in town to quote ‘lead them down the path of the Devil’. And last but not least, Nicholas Collins claimed that she tried to drag his sons down to hell with her.” 

Sam looked up, eyes bouncing from Dean to you, “How much do you want to bet that Melinda’s a vengeful spirit out for those who wronged her?”

You shook your head, “Then why hasn’t she been doing this the entire time? Why start now?”

“Maybe she was tired of the lies being spread about her? Or she was framed?”

Sam typed away again, “She could’ve been brought back since there was a new addition added to the local history museum. It was about the four families, but her stuff wasn’t included, which I get since it was a popular opinion that she's the one who killed them.”

You showed them the photos, “Do you guys see here, that there’s those carvings that say ‘hid it’, there’s one at every scene.”

“So guess, we’re gonna burn Melinda’s bones tonight, rest and then drive back? Case closed.” Dean remarked with a smirk.

But you and Sam both disagreed, he’s the one that spoke up, “I don’t know you guys, it sounds too easy. Something’s up.”

“As much as I don’t want to agree right now, I think Sam’s right. What if it’s something else, maybe an object she’s attached to, or it’s another spirit completely.”

Dean sighed, “You guys just love to make cases complicated, don’t you?”

“I don’t know, it feels off,”You mentioned shrugging as you got off of the bed. “Maybe we should poke around the museum or ask people in town? Maybe some of the families?”

“Yeah, some of the people that had some of their kids killed, asking about the history about the importance of their families?” Sam retorted, leaning back in his chair.

“No, jackass, ask about their kids. You know better than that, Samuel.” You side-eyed him from your stance around the table. You were getting tired of his attitude, and he was getting tired of yours. 

Dean was just tired of the both of you.

~~

[youchoseeachother]

[kaz2y5-imagines]

Hi Kazy!

I've missed you! It's great to have you back! ♥️

I would love to request prompt 91 with Sam x Reader 😍

So so so happy to have you back ♥️♥️♥️

Hi!! It’s so good to be back! Thanks for the request and here you go! 💖🥰

“How’d it go?” Dean asked as you opened the back door of the Impala and slid in. “Did you get the files?”

You grinned triumphantly, shaking your phone in his face.

“He’s sending the scans right now.”

You handed your phone up to Sam, trusting his grasp on Enochian engravings surpassed yours. He thumbed through the files coming through for a moment and then, from his profile, you saw his eyebrows raise.

“Huh,” he said.

“What is it?” you asked.

“It’s, uh - it’s not just the files he’s sending you,” Sam replied. “You just got a text from him asking you to dinner.”

“Hey! Nosy,” you said, reaching to grab your phone back.

“It came through between pictures, I wasn’t trying to look,” Sam said with a slight laugh, though his smile disappeared quickly, and you fumbled to get the words out that you weren’t being unprofessional in the museum.

“Hey, mixing business with a little pleasure, nothing wrong with that,” Dean said, throwing you a wink through the rear view. You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning hot. You looked down at the message, confirming what Sam had said. You were being asked on a date. It was hard to remember the last time that happened.

“Do you think you’ll go?” Sam asked, meeting your eyes for only a second before looking away again. You shrugged, chewing your lip.

“I don’t know. I guess I could…there might be more info I could get from him about the history of the place. Stuff we couldn’t find online.”

“Or you could just go and have fun,” Dean said.

“You don’t have to push everyone to be like you, Dean,” Sam snapped. Dean laughed a little, shaking his head but not saying anything more. “I just mean you shouldn’t go if you don’t want to,” Sam amended, turning in his seat now to look back at you. You nodded, fully aware of how much you were still blushing. Why was this so embarrassing to talk about with him — them.

“Could be fun,” you said, shrugging again. “It’s not like I’ve had any other offers lately.”

Sam turned away from you again, shoulders stiffening. You sent your reply and the rest of the car ride was mostly silent.

————————

It took you half an hour to decide what to even wear and you were staring at yourself in the mirror debating if you were really made for dating when a soft knock came to the door.

“Yeah?” you called, reaching down to tug your shoes off.

The door opened and Sam gave you a once over, eyebrows sky-high for the second time that day.

“Don’t,” you stopped him. “I feel - I don’t know. Like not me.”

Sam picked at his fingernails, nodding slowly.

“He must be taking you somewhere nice,” he finally said.

“Yeah, I googled it. A lot of the menu is in Italian. I’m going to need a translator. Too bad it isn’t Enochian or I’d bring you with me,” you smiled.

“Oh, I’m sure your date would love that,” he teased. You shook your head.

“Don’t call him my date. He’s just…a guy. You know?” Sam was silent as you went to your dresser, putting on the earrings you’d chosen. You picked up the bracelet that went well with them and turned to Sam with it in your palm. “Can you help me?”

He stepped farther into your room, meeting you and taking the bracelet from your hand. Again, you felt your cheeks starting to burn, hotter than they had even in the car, as Sam gently turned your wrist over to clasp the bracelet.

“Why are you going out with him if he’s just some guy?” he asked quietly.

“Because why not?” you asked, your eyes glued to Sam’s hands, he was being so delicate with the chain. The bracelet was clasped now but his fingers lingered for just a few seconds before trailing over the soft skin of your wrist and then finally away.

“Don’t go,” he said. You forced yourself to look up and meet his eyes, making sure you’d heard him right. “Don’t go on that date,” he repeated, reading your expression.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

He was holding your eye contact just as intently as you were and you felt the space between you - it was nothing at all.

“Say it,” you demanded, surprised at yourself. His eyes grew wider for the smallest second, and then dark, and you knew what was coming a breath before it did. He pressed both his hands to your face, pulling you to him in a kiss you’d been waiting for for months. You were on your tiptoes in an instant to meet him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he slid his hands into your hair, holding you, keeping you, deepening the kiss exactly when you wanted him to. It was perfect, like he already knew your body, knew your heart. He pulled away long enough to look into your eyes, to see your face break into a smile and then a laugh, and then he was kissing you again, smiling now too.

You never made it to the date.

[sweetpapercroissant]

It’s so funny how Crowley has been a pain in the ass for the Winchesters since like s6 but they didn’t really try to kill him, not even in s8, just made vague threats here and there but it’s when Dean goes and becomes besties with him that Sam decides that no actually Crowley needs to die