#samjess fic

[rottencaniness]

// forever trusting who we are, and nothing else matters //

— for bastiel, @derailedangel —

rating: teen & up || word count: 1.5k+ || ao3 link

tags: samjess, christmas, swearing, weirdcest, dean coded jess, kissing, Stanford era

It’s their first Christmas together, Sam’s all but shaking with nerves for how the night will go, Jess had to drive down to her parents place for Christmas Eve and is just now getting back to their apartment. They moved in together only a month ago, supposedly way quicker than they should’ve according to Brady, but Sam and Jess both knew it’s what they wanted.

And now, sitting in the apartment that’s freshly decorated to the best of Sam’s ability, hearing the lock jingle open, Sam’s really happy to have the space for just him and Jess. He knows Brady would’ve been making things ten times more chaotic and none of the decorations would’ve been up as neatly as they are now. Sam took his time placing things prettily around the apartment, a small Christmas tree by their couch, garlands draped over their mantle and tops of their cabinets in the kitchen, Christmas lights hung in almost every room, a pine scented candle burning, and Jess’ present wrapped neatly and placed next to the couch.

“Sam? I’m home.” He watches with a smile how the blonde kicks her converse off and drops her duffle bag to the floor— it’s actually Sam’s duffle bag, the same one he moved to Stanford with, the same one with anti-hex bags sewed into the pockets and sigils embroidered onto the bottom— which Jess blissfully ignored and just thanked him for letting her use it for her trip.

“You decorated.” The delighted smile Jess has as she walks over to where Sam is makes his whole chest feel warm.

“Thought it’d be nice for our first Christmas.” She hums along, coming to press a soft kiss to Sam’s lips before turning back to the door to grab something out of the duffle bag. It’s hidden behind her back before Sam can get a good look at it.

“I know we said gifts weren’t necessary since we spent so much money on the apartment, but, I wanted to get you something anyways.” A small box gets handed to Sam once Jess sits beside him on the couch, her eyes briefly flicking to the box wrapped by his feet with a small laugh. They both broke the ‘no gifts’ rule, to no surprise.

Sam pauses looking down at the present, it’s wrapped in newspaper. Just like Dean would when they were growing up— given Jess’ wrapping job is a lot more meticulous and there’s sparkly red twine tied in a bow around the box— so it’s different, but the same. His fingers twitch over the twine, part of him doesn’t want to unwrap it and ruin how nice it is, the other part of him is telling him to unwrap it before he starts to think about Dean too much.

“Sorry, the newspaper is kinda janky but I didn’t have any wrapping paper.” A hand reaches to rub at the back of Jess’ neck as she grimaces before Sam’s shaking his head as fast as he can.

“No, no, it’s beautiful. I um- I actually used to get presents wrapped in newspaper growing up.” Something he thought he left behind in that mildew smelling motel room he walked out of before catching a bus to California, the yells of his name that Dean let out before he left ringing in his head the entire drive, the burn of anger he felt towards John for not supporting him, the ache in his chest when he looked back at Dean one last time— fuck. He left that all behind, he has Jess and Brady, they’re his family now.

“Oh thank god, I was worried you were one of those people that had extravagant Christmas’s growing up.” Sam laughs, he’s shared enough about his family with Jess that she can’t have actually thought that. He told her how he moved around a lot as a kid, sleeping in hotel rooms and in the back of cars, how his brother was his parent for the most part, he never tells her what type of work John did that required them to move so much but Jess never pushes. Ever, on anything, she’s perfect.

“Please I was lucky to get an extra can of Spaghettio’s for Christmas.” And that was a stretch some years.

“Well it’s not canned goods but I hope you like it.” He gets the hint and starts to untie the twine, peeling the paper back to reveal a cardboard box that’s filled with— cassettes. Metallica, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Kansas, and Van Halen. It’s all of Dean’s favorite tapes, Sam’s whole chest goes tight as his mouth falls open only to close without saying a word.

“You’re always humming Metallica and I overheard you talking to Noah about what the best rock band was. Don’t worry I went through all your tapes to make sure you didn’t already have them.” The heated discussion with Noah from psych class about rock bands had been one of the only times Sam consciously took time to think about that genre of music, he hadn’t realized Jess had heard him, or that he’s been- apparently- humming Metallica just like Dean.

“Th-thank you, I don’t know what to say. I haven’t listened to this stuff since getting to Stanford.” He’s purposely avoided that station on the radio and the old playlist still sitting in the files of his laptop.

“Well we should listen to some.” Jess grins and plucks the Metallica tape from the box, walking over to the radio they keep on the mantle and turning the volume almost all the way up.

Her head bobs to the music the second it starts, face scrunching the same way Dean’s does when the guitar gets heavier, green eyes nearly closed and hand coming to play air guitar. God she looks like a girl version of Dean. The loose gray t shirt, the mannerisms, her jeans are worn down on the knees like Dean’s always were, blonde hair shining under the Christmas lights, even the lopsided smile she gives reminds Sam of Dean. His heart beats two times too fast with the thought, quickly grabbing the box he wrapped for Jess and holding it out towards her. Just desperately trying not to think about how his girlfriend is an odd half-clone of his brother.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” What the gift he got her hits Sam all at once— it’s a necklace. On a black rope, with a gold pendant. Jesus Christ he’s going to hell for this shit.

“Sam it’s gorgeous!” It’s a simple gold heart locket with a picture of them in it, it’s one Brady took, Jess is laughing while Sam looks at her with an absolute lovestruck expression. It’s his favorite picture of them.

“Let me.” His hands ties the black rope of the necklace around Jessica’s neck from the front, face suddenly blushing red when he realizes how close they are and how beautiful Jess looks like this.

“I love this song.” She says softly, Enter Sandman filling their apartment, Sam’s heart skipping a beat for what feels like the millionth time today.

“You usually listen to Fleetwood Mac, I didn’t know you liked rock.” Jess loops her arms around Sam’s shoulders and settles into his lap, pushing them both farther into the couch.

“Lot you still don’t know about me Sammy.” The thick swallow he does might’ve been audible to Jess— Sam can’t help it, not when Jess has that tone of voice, and that grin, and that look in her eye, and that fucking nickname.

“I love you.” It falls from Sam’s mouth before he can think it over for even half a second.

They’ve never said that to each other before, sure they live together but Jess didn’t have the most loving parents and Sam sure as hell didn’t either so they’ve been taking it slower when it comes to things like pda and words of affirmation. He can’t believe he just said that without any build up, he had planned on saying it over a nice dinner, making it memorable, not sitting in their apartment on Christmas with his brothers music playing and half of Sam’s mind distracted thinking about his brother.

“I love you too.” No hesitation in Jess’s voice and she leans to press a small kiss to Sam’s lips to almost solidify the moment.

“And just so you know, I grew up with this type of rock. My dad and me would sing it in his car before he’d drop me off at my mom’s, she was the Fleetwood Mac fan.” Part of Sam briefly wonders if his mom would be a Fleetwood Mac fan too, maybe he would’ve listened to them before meeting Jess if Mary was still around. It’s a dumb thought, a useless one, he brushes it off as quick as possible. Thinking about his family never leads to anything but him feeling guilty over leaving and missing Dean.

“We should order takeout, for a Christmas feast of course.” Jess’s voice takes Sam from his thoughts and he nods, opening his mouth to reply but-

Before Sam can respond the guitar solo of Enter Sandman starts to play and Jess leans back in his lap to strum her fingers to the music and he can’t suppress his bright laugh. He really does love her, he thinks he wants to marry her. Maybe Dean will show up for the wedding, maybe him and Jess will get close, maybe he can have them both.

[supernaturalkickparty]

It's the bestie @fandom-hoarder birthday!!!!!!

Wrote a SamJess Stanford era fic for today's special occasion.

Happy birthday bestie🥳

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[nonagesimus]

Tristan what if I promoted about Jess noticing Sam avoiding salty foods or his cross necklace leaving faint red marks :)) stuff like that:)) yknow the demon blood affecting him early on

Their first Christmas Jess was flying out on the 23rd, so they did gifts on the 22nd. In Jess’ dorm, because Sam had absolutely no decorations up, and when Jess had asked why he’d just shrugged and said he couldn’t be bothered. But he was happy enough watching her unwrap a set of bracelets that she knew he spent more on than they’d agreed to. But she didn’t call him out, because she had too. See, while he didn’t go to a Sunday service- at least as far as she knew - he liked wearing a cross. It wasn’t a sentimental thing, either, because when the chain had broken and he lost one he wasn’t sad, he just got a new one the very next day. But he kept buying the cheap ones, so he’d had a thin red rash, worst where the cross itself sat, the entire time she’d known him.

Sterling silver was a little bit of a splurge, but it was worth it.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Shouldn’t trigger the nickel allergy either,” she said. He grinned at her, taking off the one he was wearing and replacing it with the new one.

“Thanks, babe,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

She got back after Christmas and he picked her up from the airport in her car. The chain around his neck was the new one, but the rash was still there. She frowned, hurt a little despite herself.

Waited until later in the evening to comment.

“If you like your old one better it’s fine, you don’t have to wear this just ‘cause I got it for you.” She said, lying in bed with her fingers resting on the cross.

“What?” he asked, so genuinely confused she sat up to look at his face.

“The rash,” she said. “You’ve been wearing your old cross.”

“I’ve been wearing this one since you gave it to me,” he said. “I think it’s just not a nickel allergy, I must just have sensitive skin. It doesn’t itch or anything.”

Jess didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t push. And she only ever saw him wearing the silver cross, and that rash never did go down.

—

Jess always thought she was a healthy eater, but that was before she met Sam. Ate-meat-only-once-or-twice-a week Sam, bought-fruit-on-seven-eleven-snack-runs Sam, got-the-depressing-mcdonald’s-side-salad-instead-of-fries Sam. Didn’t-even-use-the-little-paper-seasoning-sachets-that-came-with-the-depressing-salad Sam. Brady, already grumpy from something that’d happened in his morning biology lab, had already made three snide comments about low sodium diets that Sam had ignored and Jess used as excuse to throw ketchup packets - that at least perked him up a bit.

“It’s not a health thing,” Sam protested eventually. “I just don’t like the taste that much.”

“The taste of salt,” Brady said, drily. “A thing that only exists to make things taste better.”

“You could say the same thing about cilantro and according to you that ruins everything it touches,” Sam pointed out.

Brady shrugged. “If I wanted my burrito to taste like soap, I’d put soap in my burrito.”

Sam sighed, reached over, and stole a few fries off Brady’s tray. Dodged Brady’s attempt to grab him easily and popped them in his mouth.

“Will you shut up now?” he asked, before taking a long swig of his drink.

“Sure, if you stop stealing my fries,” Brady said.

“Great,” Sam said, rolling his jaw like he was trying to scrape an unpleasant sensation off his tongue.

—

Junior year Jess stayed behind for Christmas. Sam was still a little antsy at the prospect of spending a week in her parent’s house, and she didn’t really understand but wasn’t going to push. Instead she decorated their apartment, and forced Sam to make hot chocolate even though it was still pretty warm in Palo Alto.

“Do you think,” he started nervously, “I haven’t been in a long time but- I was thinking of going to Mass on Christmas morning? You don’t have to come.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Jess said.

The closest Catholic to campus was St Thomas Aquinas, complete with spires and stained glass for all it was built of wood. Jess’ family had been baptists, but Sam had promised to lead her through any of the pomp and ceremony she wasn’t used to. Starting with the basin of holy water at the door - she mimicked him as he wet his fingers and did the sign of the cross. There was a slight grimace on his face, and as she put her hand on his back a tension in his spine.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

But as the service went on, he just seemed to get worse. The blood drained out of his face, while the ends of his fingers went pink. Fever damp, then starting to sweat bullets. They had to stand and he swayed a little into her; she tried to take some of his weight without it looking too obvious. All the ceremony he’d promised to guide her through he was half-a-step behind on, hazy like he was thinking through a fog. A few times she squeezed his arm, trying to find out if he wanted to leave, but every time he just shook his head.

Finally, the service ended and Jess dragged Sam out past the Priest who was politely wishing people a Merry Christmas and out the door. There was a tremor running through him. And he barely protested the manhandling, just let her pour him in to the passenger seat of her car.

“You should’ve let me get you out earlier if you were feeling this sick,” she said.

He was sitting with his head tipped right back, eyes shut, breathing shallow. “I didn’t feel that bad,” he said.

And maybe it wasn’t the bad, because he’d stopped sweating bullets by the time they got back to the apartment. An hour later his forehead didn’t feel warm, and he’d gotten his colour back. As he improved, though, he only seemed to get more withdrawn. Swapping illness for a shadow in his eyes. As much as Jess tried to get him to talk, he refused.

“Sorry for ruining Christmas,” he said, as they lay on the couch. More into her neck than to her face.

“You didn’t,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

He didn’t answer.

[supernaturalkickparty]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Deep in my samjess pegging feels so if anyone wants to be in those feels too here ya go. Written for the bestie @fandom-hoarder as a second part of her birthday gift 🖤

It's one am. I'm going to bed, good night 😴😴😴

[cascigarette]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

spn kink bingo 2024

fandom: supernatural

pairing: jessica moore/sam winchester

words: 1627

rating: explicit

summary: Sam asks Jess if she'd be willing to try something with him. How can she resist? For my "pegging" square

[genderfluid-red-paladin]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My very first one-shot.

[ceaselessims]

Cancer

For: @doggowithsunglasses pairing: Sam/Jess rating: PG word count: 1070 prompt: Cancer by My Chemical Romance (Twenty One Pilots Cover) notes: you didn’t specify a ship so I went with the pairing I felt most when I heard the song and read the lyrics

Sam debates telling Jess about the dreams over and over in his head. Of course it would be the right thing to do. But who has dreams about their girlfriend being dragged up the ceiling and burning? That’s just fucked up. No one should be having dreams like this about someone they love.

Sam loves her so much. He knows that he should tell her. But how? How do you tell someone something like that? It could make things weird and she might want to talk about it. Sam doesn’t want to talk about it. The dreams are macabre and disturbing and every time he has them he walks with this lead in his chest every time he sees Jess the following day. He doesn’t want to feel that anymore.

Maybe he should break up with her. Only monsters have dreams about seeing their girlfriend burning above them. Only freaks have dreams where their girlfriend’s blood drips down from her stomach onto their foreheads. Only freaks. He guesses that makes him a freak. Jess deserves better than that.

It’s alright. He’s used to being a freak. It was a nice break these last couple of years at Stanford. Being away from Dad and Dean helped a lot. But he can still feel it in him sometimes. This rottenness, like he’s unholy. Unclean. It’s especially bad after he’s had one of the nightmares.

He shakes his head. He could never break up with her.

He sits on his bed in their apartment and fumbles with the ring box he bought not too long ago. He opens it and examines the silver ring with the rose stone in the center. The perfect ring. He knew it was the one the moment he saw it in the case. It cost an arm and a leg to get it, but it had been worth it. With this ring, there was no way that Jess could say no.

But he can’t ask her until he told her about the dreams. He needs to tell her about them or he might eat his tongue.

The jangle of keys knocks him out of his thoughts. The door to the apartment squeaks open and he hears a bell of a voice call out “Sam?”

Sam jerks up and fumbles over to the underside of the bed and shoves the black box back into its hideaway.

“Sam?” Jess’s voice from right behind him. He flails at the sudden noise and falls over onto his side. Jess snorts at him. “What are you doing, dumbo?”

Sam huffs nervous laughs, “I thought I uh, dropped something.”

She gives him a skeptical look. “Uh huh… You dropped something underneath the bed?”

Heat rushed Sam’s cheeks. “I.. uh… well I- …”

Jess giggled at him. “Oh stop, I’m only teasing.” She bent forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He didn’t get a chance to feel the kiss before Jess was screaming, being pulled away from him by an unseen force. It drags her up the wall as Sam lays helpless on the ground.

“SAM!” She cries as she looks down in pure horror as her body slides up the wall and bends her over to the ceiling.

“Jess!” He screams but by the time he manages to get to his feet, her stomach has a line of blood pouring out from it as her body sinks into the working of the ceiling. He can see her body attempting to shudder with her sobs but she can’t. The blood drips down like a leaky faucet onto the wooden floor of the apartment.

“JESS!” He screams again

It’s too late, Sam a sinister voice growls into his head. The next moment flames burst from Jess’s body on the ceiling, encapsulating her in a blanket of fire.

“JESSICA!”

There are hands slapping his face and then sun-kissed skin, pink lips, and blue eyes framed by blond curls replace the sight of flames and death.

“Sam!” That’s Jess’ voice. That’s Jess’s voice. Jess is holding his face. Jess is in his face. Jess is okay. Jess is alive. It was only a dream.

Only, it wasn’t a dream. It’s the afternoon. He wasn’t asleep. That means he had it when he was awake. Now he’s having nightmares every time he looks at her.

He scrambles away and receives a look of concern from his girlfriend. His very alive, very beautiful girlfriend. The girl he wants to marry.

He takes a few trembling breaths. Jess looks at him and speaks in a soft voice. “Sam? Are you okay?”

Sam gulps. He could tell her. He could tell her now. He should tell her. He really should. But he can’t. If she knew what he saw then she would know how big of a freak he was. What kind of cancer he was to her. He really should break up with her, but he’s too selfish to do that. Even after having this hallucination he still can’t break up with her.

“Yeah.” He says just as softly. Picking himself off the ground. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You kinda freaked me out there for a second.”

“Uh.. yeah.. Bad trip..”

Jess cocks her eyebrow at him. “Really Sam?”

Sam shakes his head exasperatedly. “Come on, everyone does it.”

She sighed. “Well, you can’t afford to fuck up Mr Scholarship.” she concedes. Walking forward she wraps her arms loosely around his waist and lets them sit there

“I know, I know.” Sam nods in defeat, choking on his words. He relaxes into her hold.

“You know, there’s a Halloween party tomorrow, we should go.”

“By ‘we should go’ you mean ‘we’re going I already have an outfit.” Sam teases.

She beams at him. “Look at how well the puppy learns!”

Sam chuckles. “Okay, I guess.”

“Mmm, thank you.” Jess moves into kiss him, but the vision flares in his mind and he turns his face at the last second, her lips landing on his cheek. He can’t kiss her. Not now. Not yet…  He should really tell her about the nightmares, but he doesn’t.

And when he looks up on his ceiling after hunting for the first time in four years to see Jessica bent into the ceiling, blood dripping down from her stomach and flames burning down their life, he learns that it wasn’t a dream that time.

He wish he told her about the dreams.

[legacysam]

Just added the 2nd/final chapter to The Stanford Story, my Sam/Jess fic where Sam is a trans woman. She's taking a creative writing class and is stuck with an assignment that gets her thinking about Jess and what love means for her.

I've mentioned this before, but if any of my readers are trans and find this fic problematic, please let me know so I can fix it.

Jessica was the first person she wanted to be completely free with. It hurt that she couldn't tell her the whole truth about her family, but about herself? About her fears and hopes, her faith, her insecurities? Those things she wanted Jess to see. She wanted to hold her hand and walk her through all the things that made up Samantha Winchester, let her look, and touch, and ask questions, and make herself at home among them.

Maybe there was a poem in that... [more on ao3]