↳ Stanford era!au
Tag: SamxJess
I meant to draw this for Sam’s birthday, but of course I was busy with things
(Oh well, at least I ended up drawing something…)
Happy belated birthday, Sammy! ❤ and yup, that’s Jessica with him c:
Morning Light
She moves quietly on bare feet around their room, carrying a mug of steaming coffee with lots of cream and sugar, and sits on a stool by the window where the first rays of sunlight hit the blank white canvas on the easel. Setting her coffee down and pulling her blond curls into a ponytail at the back of her head, she selects a few of her favorite charcoal pencils to sketch.
As she looks back at the bed, white cotton sheets are rumpled around his waist with his tan back and arms stretched long and at impossible angles, as if he was a child who threw himself down to sleep. His pink lips are opened slightly, breathing in and out, and she loses herself for a moment in the gentle rhythm.
His hair has grown out somewhat in the few months since they started dating but she likes it now, how it forms a messy dark halo around his face on the white pillowcase. The dark lead of the charcoal captures his curls and his soft eyelashes on the blank canvas.
His face and hair are a favorite subject to draw. He looks so different in sleep, sweet and innocent, far from the guarded look he carries with him when going through day-to-day life. Perhaps she likes to capture its likeness in the hope that she could give him back that peace of mind even when he wakes up.
Sam never likes the sketches that Jessica draws of him. He loves her other art but he’s self conscious when she says he’s beautiful. But that’s what he is in this thin morning light. Beautiful. And every thing she could possibly want.
[fic] to ashes
He climbs back into bed and buries himself deeper into his thin, stiff sheets, trying not to breathe in too much of their mustiness, and he holds on tight. Like he’s still back there, back then, and nothing went wrong and no one burned. Like he could dream her back to life, if only he tried hard enough.
Like…. all of the hearts for SamJess
❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private?
In public, definitely Jess. She loves fussing over Sam, petting his hair and holding hands. In private, Sam is so huggy and clingy, just happy to have someone who loves him
♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?
I think Sam for both. Sam loves making these little romantic gestures for Jess. She’s his first real girlfriend and he this is the girl he’s gonna marry he wants to prove how much he loves her
❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine’s day?
Sam! Like I said he never had a chance to do something big for anyone so he likes being able to treat Jess.
ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?
Jess. Sam gets a bit nervous about these kinds of things, but she’s so comfortable with it that even when Sam’s too shy to hold her hand Jess will do it
💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?
Neither of them are all about big declarations, but Sam has gotten in a few of their friends in on plans (he once got one of his friends who were in a shitty college band to write a song for her and play it when he took her out for their one year anniversary)
💘: who developed a crush on the other first?
Jess won’t admit it, but she absolutely did. She’d seen Sam at a couple of parties, hanging around campus, and most importantly she’d seen him hanging out with Brady from her pre-med course. So she practically begged Brady to introduce them. Sam thought it was him who got a crush first, because he fell for her the minute that Brady introduced them, but like Jess had a good couple of months of stalking him beforehand
💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?
Jess. She knows Sam never had a lot growing up and he’s not a very materialistic guy. She never knows what to get him and always overthinks it
💓: who initiates most physical contact?
Jess does in public, like holding hands and kissing. Sam is much more likely in private, sometimes he can’t keep his hands off of her.
(sometimes that’s just a confirmation that she’s safe)💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?
Jess loves sending cutesy texts. All the heart emojis. Sam rolls his eyes whenever he gets them, but he saves them all because they really make him happy
💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibilities?
Surprisingly Sam. Sam has enough knowledge of the supernatural to know that nothing is just coincidence and that outside factors often play a bigger part than people realise. Jess thinks it’s a bunch of malarkey but goes along with it anyway, asking Sam what her stars for the day are
💙: who is more protective?
In a general sense, Sam is way more protective. It has something to do with his paranoia and what he knows about the supernatural. Every bump in the night, every shadow, and Sam is immediately up and separating Jess from whatever the threat is. But, Jess is super protective of Sam too. Some of their classmates are huge assholes, and people like to pick on Sam because he never fights back. Jess always stands up for Sam when someone starts calling him names
💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?
Sam gets sick so often but doesn’t admit it. Thankfully, Jess is (as I headcannon) is in pre-med so he is in great hands. Jess absolutely loves taking care of Sam, even when he won’t admit he’s sick
💜: who said “i love you” first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?
Sam. He said it so quickly, after only a few dates. It was only a breathy whisper, barely loud enough for Jess to hear. But she did, and she said it back straight away
💛: who believes in soulmates?
They both kinda do. Neither of them felt this way about anyone until they met each other, and whether it was love at first sight or they were actually soulmates, there was definitely something between them
first, last
571 days
“Hey, like, not to be rude, but I can’t see around your hair.”
Those are the first words Jessica Moore, art history senior, says to Sam Winchester, pre-law junior. She’s teasing, really, trying to be clever, to make him finally notice her, because there are only three weeks left in this semester and then she’ll never see him again, this quiet boy who keeps sitting in front of her in her Latin class.
Jess took Latin because she heard this professor was easy. Sam Winchester apparently already speaks it, as much as anyone can speak a dead language, and she’s maybe been a little bit in love with him since the first time she heard him say “nosce te ipsum” with perfect pronunciation.
sometimes i wonder what the moores would think of sam now, or what they even thought of him when he disappeared, of this kid, this young man who was force fed so much turkey by jess’s grandmother that he looked about ready to pass out, who accepted ugly sweater contest jabs (“what ugly sweater?”) in stride, who did not speak openly about his family but was welcomed into theirs nonetheless, who let a three year-old stick rainbow barrettes in his hair for the sake of amusing her, who loved their daughter and wasn’t overly subtle about it
but then there was the sam after the fire, stoic and quiet at the funeral with a man they didn’t recognize, who offered them his condolences with watery eyes but declined any offers to stay with them, said he needed time, said they all did, said he and his brother (that’s who he was, the quiet man with the hard eyes and half-nods scanning the room) needed to find their father, said he loved her, said he missed her, hugged her mother and let her cry into his shoulder, said he’d never forgive himself
the fire’s ruled suspicious, the circumstances are unsettling, there are no concrete answers, and there is never any word back from sam aside from the week he and his brother stayed for the service, and after a few months there is some resentment, some bitterness bubbling up, brief moments of you left and my daughter died that they instantly regret, and sometimes they just wonder, wonder about sam, wonder about their daughter
the winchester show up on the news, show up wanted by the fbi, show up in prison, show up dead, show up as a pair of serial killers
the mugshot of the boy who was once sat at their kitchen table over a weekend, spent the new years with them, wished them all merry christmas stares back out at them, murders a man in cold blood, is a wanted killer and they think oh god, think no think you left and my daughter died
Just anything Sam/Mary. :3 If you want!
“Mom?”
Mary’s nearly startled by the sound of Sam’s voice, so absorbed in the book she’s gotten caught up in. It’s late, and she was sure that the boys were both already asleep, having already said goodnight to Dean and assuming that she’d just missed Sam, since he tended to go to bed earlier than his brother.
Tonight seems to be an exception, though, as she sits up a little straighter in her bed and smiles softly at her youngest where he stands in the doorway, looking a little unsure of himself. “Uh- sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me, don’t worry.” Things still feel fragile between them, but now that everything has started to settle down, she’s eager to set them right. She’s got thirty-something years of lost time to make up for, and any chance to talk to her boys is a chance that she won’t pass up on now. “Come on in.”
Sam smiles when she says that and steps inside, glancing around for a moment before moving towards her. The mattress dips under his weight as he sits on the edge of the bed, and Mary sets her book aside, crossing her legs and scooting a little bit closer to him. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, of course. Everything’s- well, fine as it gets, I guess.” Sam shrugs, and Mary just smiles back at him, waiting for him to continue. He must be on his way to bed, already dressed in soft pyjamas and looking sleepy around the edges. “I just… I guess I just wanted to talk to you. Feels like we don’t talk enough.”
“We don’t, do we?” She frowns slightly, then reaches out to take Sam’s hand in both of hers, amazed as she often is by the sheer size of him. It’s hard to connect the man before her to the baby boy she left behind, but then she’ll meet his eyes and see the unfailing gentleness there and find it all a little bit easier to believe. “I’m sorry, Sam. I think that’s my fault.”
“No, it isn’t,” he’s quick to say, and his fingers curl around hers carefully. Gently, like he’s afraid of breaking her, and that thought just makes Mary’s heart ache. “We just… we just need to work on it, I guess. Together, right?”
That’s certainly not something that Mary’s going to say no to, so she smiles, nodding once as she gives his hand a careful squeeze. “That sounds about right. So- what do you want to talk about?”
That takes Sam a moment to answer, and he glances away, brow furrowed in thought. Laughs at himself a moment later and shakes his head before he starts talking. Doesn’t let go of her hand, though, and Mary thinks she likes that. “So… when I was in college, there was this girl. This beautiful, amazing, absolutely incredible girl.”
Mary stays quiet while Sam tells her all about Jessica Moore, and even when he gets past the happy parts with late nights and weekend getaways and ring shopping, even when his eyes go soft and sad and he tells her about the way he lost the love of his life, even when he can’t quite look at her as a couple tears slip free, Mary listens. She listens, and when it gets too much for Sam, she brings him into her arms, cradling his head against her chest and whispering to him how much she loves him, and how brave he is, and how desperately sorry she is that he’s suffered so, so much loss.
Maybe she wasn’t there for those thirty-something years, but here, in this quiet, private moment with her youngest child crying in her arms about a lost love, Mary thinks that she might be able to make up for it, one day at a time.
The Ancient Tradition of Geometric Problems
OhSam-spnlittlebro CelebratingSam challenge
Prompt: vellichor (a wistful feeling you get in used bookshops)
Pairing: Gen | Rating: G | Wordcount: 725
A/N: Thanks to samshinechester for the beta!The smell. It’s what gets him every time. Linen and leather and dust. Books like this would sit on a shelf, unchanging and uncaring whether they were read or not, a legacy in black and white.
He had walked through the narrow bookshop, trailing his fingers along the bindings, a small absent smile on his face. Dean left for the motel earlier; bigger cities like San Francisco always put his brother on edge. Bumping elbows with people on the street, Dean would look over his shoulder, scanning for a threat in the unknown faces. But Sam loved it, the anonymity of the crowd. He could slide right into it, fading into the tourists and the business people. No need for badges or false names because no one cared who you were in a city this size.
The waning sunlight of the summer had been lighting up the shop windows as they finished their interviews, and it had made him restless. Too bright to head to the motel, too early for dinner, Sam had walked the streets instead, hands stuffed in his suit pant pockets, the breeze off the Bay ruffling his hair, cool even in June.
This tiny bookstore, tucked back into an alley between a dive bar and a coffee roasting shop, was familiar. Palo Alto was only an hour away, and when he first moved to California, Sam would take the train north up the Peninsula. Friday nights, he would run out of school work and start to fill up on raw memories, so Saturday mornings, he would explore the City.
Backup bloh 