ohsam | Summer Comment-fic meme!

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Summer Comment-fic meme!

It's been forever since we had a straight-up comment-fic meme, am I right? So let's get this show on the road!

SPREAD THE WORD

THE RULES

→ Leave a comment here with your prompt. This is a Sam-focused hurt/comfort community, so Sam should be the one in the hurt/comforted role. Your prompts may involve sick!Sam, hurt!Sam, angsty!Sam, basically anything that results in Sam being on the receiving end of hurt/comfort. (No rules against whumping other characters as well, of course, but you have to whump Sam first. ;) )
→ In your prompt, please state your desired characters or pairings. All genres/pairings welcome, but no real-person (RPF) prompts.

Example A: “Sam, Dean, gen, set in season 2. Sam has a vision and passes out. Cue caring!Dean and limp!Sam.”
Example B: “Sam/Dean, trauma. Sam is injured on a hunt, Dean freaks out when he thinks Sam might be dead.”

→ Post as many prompts as you like - but one prompt per comment. If you've got a couple, comment with each separately.
→ Prompts can be as short or detailed as you like. Remember though - more detail means less wriggle room for the writer, which might lower the chances of someone picking up your prompt.
→ Go through the prompts! If you find one you like, write a fic for it. There's no limit to how many users can reply to a prompt, or how many prompts someone can write for.
→ When replying to a prompt with your comment-fic, put ‘filled’ in your subject line and then anything else you want, like a title if you have one/part numbers. It’s not a big deal if you forget this step, but it will make it easier for people to find your fic. As subject lines are no more, please begin your fills with the word FILLED and a TITLE in BOLD - the first box on this page shows you how to position the bold tag for proper results.
→ If you notice that your fic is not on the master list after a decent amount of time (say, two days), please poke me in a PM. I might have missed it.
→ Anon posting enabled.
→ NO SPOILERS FOR UNAIRED EPISODES.
→ Play nice - no flaming and no character bashing, period. Any comments that break this rule will be deleted without warning.
→ Feedback is catnip for writers. Leave some author-love!
→ No spam comments.
→ Contact one of the mods if you have a question.
→ Spread the Sam love - pimp this meme!
→ Have fun!

Master List of Fills

Mod Note: I have severely restricted access to the Internet these days, due mostly to time constraints. Bear with me if your fills don't appear right away, okay? :)

Priorities; by

center_galaxy; Outsider POV: pizza guy/girl. Goes to deliver a pie (veggie lover's delight?) to a remote motel. The big guy that answers the door is in no way healthy (either he's woefully sick or beaten all to hell.) Or maybe the door is ajar and the delivery person can see someone passed out on the floor.

Winchester Luck; by

chaos_slave; Sam falls/gets thrown off a cliff.

Bath Time Blues; by

cherry916; Sam Dean John gen Pre-series. Sam has a back injury or some sort of back problem, he's not paralysed, but he can't lift anything. Dean and John are fussing over him and watching him like a hawk to make sure he follows the doctor's orders.

The Itch You Can't Scratch; by

cherry916; Sam gets a nasty rash from the hellhound blood all over him.

Side Effects; by

center_galaxy; "Everybody Hates Hitler" AU. What if the Nazi Necromancer poison didn't go away nearly as quickly as it did in the actual ep? Or had some nasty aftereffects?

The Very Thought of You; by

center_galaxy; Jess has worked the late night shift at a diner for months now. But when the tall guy with the dimples that calls in every night for a coffee suddenly stops coming, she gets worried because no one seems to notice he's missing but her. Then a few nights later he stumbles into the diner, all beat up and bloody.

Occupational Hazard; by

omh_6; It's the summer of Sam's 13th year. Dean is already Dad's right-hand man and Too Cool for School, and Sam has been scrambling to keep up, then KAPOW. Growth spurt. Almost overnight, Sam finds himself eye-to-eye with his 'big' brother and you'd think that'd make him happy, right? But no, this is Sam Winchester we're talking, here. Cue the growing pains, eternal hunger, long ungainly limbs, screwed up center of gravity.

Angry Spirits Don't Care About Mud; by

calypsobard;"Maybe Sam should've listened to his brother before he decided to play the hero and run back into that house."

The Worst Thing; by

scribble2much; The memories of the cage are so strong that Sam begins to show psychosomatic symptoms to some of Lucifer's tortures.

On the Side of the Road; by

jasmineisland; Back in season 5, after Dean and Sam split up; Sam hitchhikes, thing is, the angels are out to tear him apart, now that they’ve got them split up; they recruit a demon or something to that effect, to do their dirty work. The demon ends up raping him on the side of the road., while or right before Dean ends up calling him to reconcile.

Anything For You; by

center_galaxy; Remember Sam's broken wrist way back when? He had a cast, it healed, all was well. Until somewhere in his late 30s the pain he's been ignoring for a while becomes a constant thing. They discover that Sam's been walking around with an improperly healed carpal bone and as a result has some nasty degenerative arthritis, and Dean decides this is a good time to hang it up and retire. But, just because they're done with the supernatural, doesn't mean that it's done with them and when Dean goes missing - Sam and his swollen, knobby "it's not entirely useless, dammit" hand have to find him. It's frustrating, it's dangerous, it hurts - but it's his brother, you know?

What I Would Give for You by

center_galaxy Sam gets tuberculosis.

And a Pillar of Fire by Night by

ladyarcherfan3 (gen please) At the end of 8.23, Sam tries to "let go" of the trials. The glow leaves his arms and he shows Dean with a smile before crying out in pain and collapsing. What if Sam''s collapse was caused by the Angels falling rather than just the trial's; side effects? He could be overloading on the same thing the Batcave is sensing when the machines turn on.

Better Than it Was by

calypsobard Post season 8; The boys run into Jody Mills. She's still (quite understandably) shaken and freaked by her near-death-by-Crowley. However, once she sees how ill Sam looks, she seizes upon nursing Sam back to health as her new mission.

Just Press Reset by

scribble2much In the wake of s8 there would have to be some lingering trust issues for Sam regarding Dean's forgiveness and respect. So maybe something years down the line when they are in one of their desperate situations and Dean does a "we're good, right?" check and somehow realizes that Sam flat out doesn't believe him, and has just gotten used to the idea that Dean loves him, sure, but won't ever think well of him or believe that Sam has lived down his mistakes. And Dean is all "YES I LOVE YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE MY LITTLE BROTHER BUT I ALSO LOVE YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE AWESOME" in some very convincing way and then Sam cries

Overflow by

monicawoe Sam/Dean or gen; Getting all charged up for the Trials and then not discharging that energy by closing the gates of hell may not have been such a great idea. Sam's not sick any more, but his powers are back -- visions, telekinesis, other freaky stuff -- and he has no control over it and he's starting fires and hurting people. And then it gets worse and he's causing little cracks in the reality around him, cracks between earth and heaven and hell and purgatory and the fae realm. At this point it's not even that discharging the energy all at once will probably kill him, it's that they don't know how to do it without blowing the whole thing apart.

Helpless by

jasmineisland Sam breaks his collar bone and needs help with the very basics of daily life, IE. getting dressed, brushing his hair and so on.

One Soul, Needfully Patched by

indiachick While Death is building the Great Wall of Sam, he tries to fix as much of the hell trauma as he can. Sam's head is one messy place though.

Work in Progress by

mentholpixie Sam and Dean are at a bar and for some reason (up to the author) a bunch of guys start bad mouthing Sam and making fun of him. Sam just shrugs it off, but NOBODY is allowed to hurt Sam's feelings on Dean's watch, so Dean pretty much knocks the crap outta these guys and makes sure his brother is OK. :)

Anything At All by

center_galaxy Gen, pls! Remember Sam's broken wrist way back when? He had a cast, it healed, all was well. Until somewhere in his late 30s the pain he's been ignoring for a while becomes a constant thing, a constant sense of pain that he feels when it's cold, when rain's coming. It's difficult to use his dominant hand - he can barely hold a pen or a fork, let alone a gun. Under the appropriate assumed identity, Dean takes Sam to get it checked out. They discover that Sam's been walking around with an improperly healed carpal bone and as a result has some nasty degenerative arthritis. It's been years and the doc they go to see doesn't think that there are a great deal of surgical options. He recommends injections to reduce the inflammation, some ibuprofen for daily use, some lortab or percocet when it's particularly bad, and for Sam to do what he can to start training his left hand while at the same time working to keep maximized function of his right. Dean decides this is a good time to hang it up and retire. Little place, little jobs, and Sam and Dean get by - working out Sam's hand, getting injections, and living. But, just because they're done with the supernatural, doesn't mean that it's done with them and when Dean goes missing - Sam and his swollen, knobby "it's not entirely useless, dammit" hand have to find him. It's frustrating, it's dangerous, it hurts - but it's his brother, you know?

Washed Up Like Poison by

starling_night The thing about being human is that you can know things with your mind, believe them with all of your soul, and still have this little place in your heart that doesn't give a shit. Ruby lied to Sam, she manipulated him, and when he was with her - he was as close to being evil as he's ever been, barring the soulless Sam debacle. If she was brought back to life, he wouldn't hesitate to do everything he had to to make certain that it wasn't for very damned long. But, still, here and there, now and then, he thinks of her, he misses her just the tiniest bit. Sure, she was a vile, lying demon, using him to bring about the rise of the Devil and the eventual end of the world, but there were quiet moments, peaceful ones where they'd lie together while the sun came up, while the candles burned down, while the world went from silence to waking. And no matter how it frustrates him, how much he hates himself every time he thinks of her instead of those he misses that actually deserve it (i.e. the Good Saint Jessica), he is unable to do anything with that tiny little place in his heart that thinks "I know it wasn't real, I know she lied and was truly Evil with a capital E, but sometimes, I still miss her."

Scapegoat by

reggie11 Teenchesters. In retaliation to Dean stealing his girl/showing him up/whatever, a school bully (or bullies) drags Sam into the school bathroom and cuts his hair off. Cue distraught Sammy and protective, pissed off, big brother Dean; Gen please!

A City Broken Into by

sharktheory Naomi orders Castiel to kill Sam

Nutcracker by

jasmineisland Sam is hiding that he's injured or more injured than Dean thinks or that he's sick from Dean 'cause he thinks that Dean has enough to 'deal with' already, love it to be canon; Skin, The Benders, Devils Trap, any of the episodes from early Season 2, pretty much any episode in Season 5, Let it Bleed, Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie and sooooo many more episodes where this could happen; Dean gets all guilty when he finds Sam treating himself and mother-hens Sam back to health; Gen or Slash

Instinct written by

monicawoe art by

quickreaver After the trials, Sam doesn't get better. Kevin's theory is that it's cancer: the trials are supposed to purge him of all physical and spiritual impurities, so tuberculosis is out, and cancer is the only reason left for Sam to be coughing his lungs up when he's supposed to be the pinnacle of human perfection. Nope. Sam's falling apart because the demon blood is gone.

Surfacing by

a_starfish Cas's completely, face-palmingly nonsensical "fix" for Hallucifer doesn't work. Not quite all the way, and not forever; Gen or Wincest, any rating.

Time and Time Again by

center_galaxy Kid!Sam time travels forward and meets current!Dean (without current!Sam, preferably, but I'm not that picky). Dean's having a bad time with his PTSD from . Sam freaks out and is generally scared of the big gruff hunter who's trying to help him get home. And then he finds the amulet tucked away somewhere. Or maybe he sees a picture of himself and Dean. Or he's just smart enough to put two and two together. Whatever the case, he figures out that this is what his big brother becomes and he's terrified. Bonus points for wee!Sam witness torturer!Dean.

42 Blankets and Towels by

hadassah934 Sam and Dean are both sick. Charlie finds out and brings chicken soup and geeky movies to the batcave.

Save or Kill by

of_nightingales John shoots Sam. On purpose or accident -- repercussions are going to be severe in any case.

Like Groundhog Day by

foolscapper Gen, during Mystery Spot. So, after countless Tuesdays, let's say Sam's gotten a little desperate. I mean, if Dean dying means resetting the day, then maybe him dying will end the loop? The youngest Winchester figures it's worth a try and starts to put himself in situations where Dean usually died (ex: walking into the middle of the street with a speeding car coming at him). Dean, on the other hand, can't figure out what the heck is going on with his brother. Bonus points if Sam eventually breaks down in tears, puts a gun to his head and Dean has to talk him down from pulling the trigger.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

First Supernatural fic and first comment fic! This is going to be a long fill but I think it'll be finished soon, Please feel free to tell me if there are any details you want/advice you have while I write, I'd love to hear it!

FILLED (1/?)-- Slow-Boiling in a Human Sea

Sam had known what chloroform smelled like since he was twelve years old.

It had been a hot, hot summer day in Arizona. Dad was gone and he and Dean had sat together beneath a tree, trying to escape the sun without caving in and heading back to the stuffy hotel room with broken air-conditioning. Even the air had seemed to sweat, its humidity sticking to their faces and weighing on their clothes.

They were supposed to be training, sparring and running down the unpopulated dirt road that stretched a while back behind their hotel. That was what Dad had told them to do as he'd swung the bag over his shoulder.

But though Dean would follow Dad's every order with eyes bright with respect whenever the man was around and demanded Sam do the same, he tossed Sam treats and compromises behind Dad's back. That day Dean had declared it too hot to spar or run. Instead, they would clean the guns and Dean would give out safety lessons. Neither of these things were fun, but they were the sterile, detached parts of hunting Sam didn't mind so much, and Sam knew it was for him; though he was sweating bullets, Dean would die of sunstroke throwing punches if he thought Sammy wanted to do it.

That had been where the chloroform came in.

Dean had the stuff in a bottle made of thick brown glass, the kind that still made Sam think of doctors and hospitals even though he saw more of them in their own duffel bags than anywhere else. Dean had passed the open bottle fast under Sam's nose and Sam had breathed it in.

"You ever smell this, you fight like hell. You got that, Sammy?"

Sam had nodded, wrinkling his nose and contorting his lips in disgust. "It smells like the old ladies in the supermarket who wear, like, a gallon of perfume," he had decided. An alcoholic scent that was sweet, but noxious, overpowering.

"The ones who pinch your cheeks and tell you what a cute little boy you are?" Dean had asked teasingly, grabbing at Sam's cheek himself. Sam's face had shifted from disgust to annoyance in a millisecond as he yanked his head back and slapped Dean's hand away.

"Yeah," he'd muttered crossly. Dean had smirked at him, mouth a smug crooked line on his face.

"Well, just remember. You smell this, it's probably not some Grandma with hairy candy in her purse."

Once more Sam's face had changed. This time his expression had morphed into a solemn understanding. He'd nodded once without looking Dean in the eye, then once more with their gazes locked when Dean demanded it. He had been too young to grasp the gravity of everything around him at the time, too well-protected by Dean and just barely starting to gain the comprehension to compare their lives to a normal one, but even then he had known more danger than most would know in a lifetime. And he had known that this particular danger belonged less to the supernatural beasts and more to the men who hunted them.

When Sam opened his eyes, it was so dark that they may as well have stayed closed. It took him a moment to realize he was blindfolded-- he'd become so used to the cloth around his eyes while he was unconscious that it was a phantom part of him. Like a watch around his wrist.

Seconds later he realized how he was bound. It was his neck that kept him, collared and leashed to something, but his hands that immediately concerned him. They were clasped at the wrist behind his back. He flexed his hands to test them, felt their weight. They were wider than standard handcuffs.

These were homemade.

His ankles, too, were linked together, with enough chain to allow him a shuffling walk. He laid on the ground for several long seconds doing nothing but moving his legs, memorizing just how much length he had. He visualized his gait. Prepared for it.

He turned over onto his chest and knees and dragged his face purposefully against the ground. The blindfold crept up painfully slowly. As soon as he was able to, he tipped his head back and peered out from beneath it. The relief he felt at being alone in the room came out in a whoosh of air.

It had felt empty aside from himself, but he knew well enough from years of hunting that not everything, not everyone, had a presence. The scariest things were so silent you believed only your thoughts accompanied you.

He returned to work.

It was only when the blindfold was pushed all the way up onto his forehead that he realized how much he ached. The chloroform had left a blinding throbbing in his head, a chemical itch in his eyes and throat.

Ignore it, he told himself. The voice in his head was Dean's.

Sam drew himself up to sit.

That was when it dawned on him that he was naked.

He'd felt it. The cold cement beneath his skin. Beneath all his skin. But it was different to see himself bare and chained in a dark, empty room. Basement, his mind supplied unhelpfully. Sam drew his legs into himself and worked on breathing in and out in and out.

Rape was the next word that came to mind. Young and naked, trapped in a basement, it was the only place for his mind to go.

It meant he'd be kept alive longer.

That was the thought that caused Sam to hyperventilate. Not the thought that he'd be raped, no; the thought that he was grateful for it. That he saw it as an opportunity for survival. That he was such a God damned hunter, such a mindless soldier, that the idea of being brutalized meant nothing to him besides buying him a few hours he could use to escape.

Sam knew that if there was ever a time to give his dad a pass it was now. If there was ever a time to be thankful for this kind of training it was now. But there are times where logic meant nothing, and that, too, was now.

He didn't cry, not really, but took deep, gulping breaths in through his nose. Tearless sobbing.

His anger burned so white hot that it engulfed everything. It burst from Dad to destroy the world.

He hated his dad. Hated Dean. Hated his life. Hated himself. Hated his mother for leaving. Hated the beast that killed her. Hated Bobby, Pastor Jim, everything, everyone he knew for indulging. Hated the Impala, the guns, the too-many schools. Hated everyone he didn't know for being normal when he couldn't be.

Wanted the man to just come downstairs and snuff him out.

But he didn't have to wait for the man. The thing about fires that burned so hot was that, along with everything else, they destroyed themselves.

Within minutes he was too exhausted to be angry.

Sam looked around the room dazedly, but there was nothing. Just himself and the thick metal post he was chained to. He crawled to the end of his chain and jerked his head experimentally, feeling the collar choke him when the chain grew too taut. The post vibrated but stayed put.

It was stupid to try. He knew how stuck he was.

'Whoa, there, Sammy. Butt-naked and tied to some dude's stripper pole? Didn't know you were into that kind of thing.' the Dean in his head teased him.

That thought was what made him gain his second wind. The worry and the stupid jokes that he guessed would mask it. He stood up and shuffled to the post that held his chain.

His family would do everything they could to find him.

He owed it to them to fight his way back to them.

More please.This is fabulous!!!!

Thanks! I'll get back to it as soon as I wrap up It's a Long Way Home. I'm very glad you're enjoying both fills :)

The light that came through when the door at the top of the stairs opened wasn't blinding. It didn't blanch out the man coming down them, bucket in one hand, with a towel draped over his arm. No, it was just a regular old fluorescent bulb, not even enough to light the room, but Sam's eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and so ached just the same. He wanted to close them. He wanted to push the blindfold back down.

Instead he stared hard until the ache subsided.

The man--Sam remembered his name, Nick, he'd introduced himself hadn't he? came down the stairs. He walked in close and set the bucket down between them. Sam could see now it was filled with soapy water.

He daydreamed attacks in quick flashes: butting his head into Nick's nose; kicking both feet hard into Nick's stomach; wrapping the chain that bound his feet tight around Nick's neck, purpling him, choking him unconscious.

But Sam did nothing as Nick came to a seat at his feet. The reasoning was simple: he wanted to escape. He was sure, from the fact that he was chained instead of already dead, that he'd be kept alive for some time. This meant that for everything else that might happen while he was down here, he'd at least have the time to be able to plan ahead and make his escape a success rather than an attempt.

Step one would be getting out of his bindings. And while he couldn't feel the links on his neck or hands, he could see the lock on the chain that bound his ankles. It would be worth knowing if Nick held the key on him before he made a move.

"Sit down," Nick said, patting the ground beside him.

"What're you going to do?"

He felt strong, defiant, just by standing.

Nick looked up at him. His eyes were big and blank. His pupils were dilated to suck up the scant light, but it was the emptiness, not the blackness, that made Sam think of a demon. "I don't want to hurt you yet. Don't make me." He sounded tired. It wasn't the voice of someone who was angry, worked into such a fury that he had to take it out on another human being. It was of someone who had done this time after time, and time after time had heard the same words, Why are you doing this?, Stop, you don't need to!, Let me go I promise I won't say anything!, I don't want to die., until they'd worn meaningless and redundant inside his head.

A sudden rush of fear flowed through Sam, but he pushed it as far down as he could, all the way down to the tips of his toes.

He didn't sit, but he knelt obediently, pressing himself as close to the ground as he could. Every action was a plan for winning in the end, like a game of chess. Even this. Without his hands, he wasn't sure how quickly he could get up from being sat flat on his ass. On his knees, he thought, maybe he would still have time to react.

Nick stared at him appraisingly. "Good boy," he said.

Sam bit the inside of his mouth hard. He pushed his nails deep into the palms of his hands. Don't fight. Not yet, he told himself, over and over. There was nothing like condescension to make his blood boil so hot it ate him up inside like acid. Not yet,not yet,not yet.

Nick's hand sank into the bucket and pulled out a thick sponge. He squeezed it out before placing it against Sam's skin.

Sam wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but being bathed took him by such surprise that for several long seconds his head was blanked by the surreality of it. He stared down as the soapy, wet sponge went slick across his skin. He watched the hand move deftly over his chest, stomach, thighs, leaving them shiny and clean. Focus, he told himself. Why's he doing this? Figure out the motivation.

He looked up to watch Nick's face.

As far as he could tell, it wasn't sexual. Nick's eyes weren't lighting up with excitement. His face wasn't flushing. And while Sam jerked away when the sponge moved across his lap, the touch didn't linger.

It wasn't a caretaker's touch, as Dad or Dean might have bathed him when he was too young or too hurt to care for himself.

But it was familiar.

Sam squinted as he worked to place it.

It was only when the sponge plopped back into the bucket and the towel was lifted to dry him that he could.

The face was his own; Dean's; Dad's when they performed exorcisms.

This was nothing but a ritual.

More please.This is fabulous!!!!

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Summer Comment-fic meme!

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