Secret Trees

Master post of my fic | Currently Thinking of Henriksen | wincest and daddycest are my loves, sam is my life. please send me prompts! | find me on AO3 with the same username

[writinginthesecrettrees]

Masterpost of my writing, I guess

Because I don’t write quickly, or often, and I do a lot of reblogs in between.  Almost all of this is also on AO3 here. Follow me on Twitter - I basically only tweet when I post something new.

About Fanfic and Feedback, according to me. (TL;DR: It’s always l o v e d but never required)

Anything added in the current month will be bold.

Please do not add on to my fics without permission. I love inspiring people to write - if you want to write your own fic based off one of my ideas, please do! Tag me even, I’d love to see it. But don’t add it onto my fic. It really upsets me.

Fics

Perfect - weecest, wincest, daddycest, explicit

Unanswered Prayers - weecest, wincest, John knows

Maybe - wincest, 14.02 spoilers, 

Breaking - kind of a character study

Bela - Bela/John, wincest mentioned

Heart’s Desire - wincest, minor spoilers for ep 300 (like super minor)

Killing Things - Dean’s first murder, not wincest

be a good boy - j2, mockumentary style, explicit

please daddy - Sam/John, spanking, borderline explicit

In addition to amazing looks the Gypsy Vanner possesses a temperament that is friendly and engaging.* genfic, total crack, Jared is a horse

Infidelity - wincest, past John/Dean, smutty angst is a valid genre, explicit

Figure it out - weecest (part 1)

Always Yours - slutty Jared and possessive Jensen w/wincest roleplay - collab with @ohnoitsthebat (AO3 version)

Smoked - Season 1 wincest, from John’s POV, with past John/Dean - collab with @ohnoitsthebat

fevered - mild wincest, just kind of musing

“Good Boy.” - a dying dog and Sam.

nine plus infinity - counting kisses

Stitches - Sam and stitches. Genfic.

didn’t know ‘til you were gone - wincest, necrophilia, explicit

A Little Off - serial killer au, weecest, and things are a little off

Kill Me Again - serial killer au (I love them, can’t help it), consensual necrophilia and lucifer keeps resurrecting Sam, explicit

jacket - wincest, mutual pining, explicit

14 - genfic, angst around Sam’s birthday

Head Games - wincest, weecest, explicit, PWP blow jobs

Baby Boy - wincest, weecest, daddycest, explicit - it’s sam/john hatefucking and sam/dean making love

I don’t know how to be without you - wincest, time travel, explicit

grindr - wincest wherein castiel puts grindr on the boys’ phones and waits for them to find each other

blood - wincest, weecest, boyking!sam 

motor oil and leather - sam/jess, when jess smells like dean

sex ed - dean teaches jack about sex, using sam as a demonstration model

drunk dial - wincest, explicit. sam’s at stanford and he gets a call from dean.

Stretch - weecest and fisting from an ask, explicit

Surely Heaven Waits - coda to the finale. Spoilers.

Big All Over - John/Jack, because why not. explicit

Family Heirloom - Sam & Dean Jr genfic.

sammy and shoes - Sam in high heels, weecest & wincest. mature

ring - sam/john, underage, explicit

Like Nothing Else - jensen/OMC, explicit. Collab with @ohnoitsthebat

Haunt - What Emily Walker does as a ghost.

almost chivalrous - weecest, sam is roofies at a party, not explicit

Happy Birthday, Dad - post-finale, genfic

And one to grow on - wincest, spanking, birthday

Birthday Puppy - winkline, puppy play, explicit

On Camera - pre-wincest, Sam tries doing porn at Stanford

Disaster - j2, prequel-gate from Keegan Allen’s POV

Currently Thinking About Henriksen

(ficlets of Henriksen pursuing the Winchesters - serial killer! au style with a holiday theme)

masterpost

“Currently thinking about”

 (various short things, united in that they are unpolished but otherwise unrelated)

serial killers! weecest

stanford era pining

rulers of hell wincest

weecest in a motel

pining weecest

smutty angst

breaking dean’s heart

sick!sam fluff

after the pilot

sam tempting dean

in honor of the 300th

slutty!sammy, weecest

valentine’s day, murder bros, outsider POV

sam liking dean’s lips

weecest in a sex shop

wincest in early s4, possessive!sam

weecest and a knife

weecest and sam feeling dirty

weecest and mutual pining

weecest and lipstick and head in bed

moc!dean and dubcon

weecest and sam’s a noisy little bitch

boyking!sam with wincest-if-you-squint

weecest and sam is an untouched little slut for dean

pining sam coming out to his girlfriend

boyking!sam and dean decide to rule hell

possessive serial killer wincest

budding serial killer sammy (no ships mentioned, but it’s always wincest)

dark!dean and sam’s eyes

daddycest, sam/john style

late season wincest after a hunt

pilot and pining!wincest (with sam/jess)

almost weecest and bruises

weecest and old movies

sam making dinner

petting hair

weecest and sam in lingerie

weecest and dancing in the rain

sam in makeup

after school special episode related

sam in a bath

weecest and john knows

flagstaff

weecest and dean catching sam

camboy!sam at stanford

crowley listening in late s5

post finale with sam

weecest and sam doing homework while dean talks dirty to him

sam and jess at stanford

sam and calling dean just to hear his voice

sam/jack and jealous!dean in highschool

john and “the talk” with weecest

“something wicked” season 1 pre-wincest

sam and mpreg right before stanford

weecest and drunk dean and first times - explicit

Currently thinking about... j2

j2 in the pilot ficlet

mistaken soulmark au - brief jensen/chad, endgame j2

jared hooks up with dudes when he’s drunk - s1 fic

as azure cuisine (on AO3)

Cursed - wincest, first time, set in later seasons, not explicit

Black and White - a series of character studies, sort of

Broken Things - non-con wincest and addiction. no happy endings.

And The House Burned - young Sam and a burning house, not wincest

#beardguy - early s14, the internet appreciates Sam’s grief beard

not crossposted to AO3

drabble - dean and feeling damned

sam/jack noncon after ouroboros

happily ever after - retirement

sam and dean and shakespeare - headcanon fun with @sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor

serial killer!dean snippet

demonic little sam in 3 sentences

early season wincest dynamics - from conversations with @ohnoitsthebat

at stanford, winchester mystery house

a/b/o for “It’s A Terrible Life”

sam and dean and using the internet pre-stanford

pre-wincest weechesters - headcanon fun with @ohnoitsthebat

unfinished snippet of sam and shaving

Fratboy!Dean when Sammy joins - submission to @wincestismyguiltypleasure

sam and dean end up at a drag show instead of a vamp nest - ficlet for @ohnoitsthebat

j2 as a hawk and a vulture - snippet of a fic i’m not writing

trans!sam having a bad period and dean being awesome

dean taking spankings for sam and giving them back later 

Wild Cards

The casino owner!Jensen and card counter!Jared d/s au that was unplanned but is turning out genius (putting all of it here including amber’s posts because... well, it’s nice to have it in one place)

bb jared at jensen’s casino - original ask from @wincestismyguiltypleasure 

discovering aftercare - by amber  

after security guard!chad tries to ‘rescue’ jared - by amber

introducing high roller!jdm - by amber

jared and bad dragon filling his slutty hole - by amber

jdm pushes too far, jensen has a few doubts, jared clears things up - by me

jared having a darker edge (and loving jensen’s more murderous side) - by amber

Chad (wherein the security guard attempts a rescue after jared takes things a bit too far) - by me

Disobedience (where jensen installs hidden cameras and jared doesn’t know he’s putting on a show) - by me

not fanfic

In the Dark - a Little Red Riding Hood retelling

Take Me To The Ocean - wherein Kelly writes poetry

an essay for an old class

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

i dont CARE that its your special interest bitch whats your SOURCE !!!!!!

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

"source: me ! hahaha🥰" NO !!!!!!! SOURCE: First Name Middle Initiall. Last Name, Name of Book, (City: Publisher, year) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[velvetcloak]

Tiara, 1910-29. The MET.

[jarpadecki]

[catchymemes]

[molinaesque]

Charles Dance fanboying about Dame Judi Dench and Dame Maggie Smith

[according2thelore]

a muffled ringing wakes dean up.

he’s barely asleep; even though the impala is pulled over far enough away from the highway that dean can only faintly see the headlights, the rumble of semis keeps jerking him out of restless slumber.

the woman in white had been more than he’d been expecting. it wasn’t a hard case, but the work had felt…more than usual.

dean, as soon as it was over, chest still smarting from her ghostly claws (lady, i got no one to be faithful to), had lain heaving for breath in the impala’s front seat and fantasized that he’d actually gone to get sam.

it had been a nice thought, anyway.

two days ago, he’d gotten as far as the san francisco city line before he turned the car around. sam doesn’t want to see him. dean doesn’t even know what he’d say. he can’t imagine a string of words that would get sam back. he’d had four years to think them up. dad's missing. dad's gone. dad left. dad hasn't been home in a few days. yeah right.

the ringing continues, and dean muzzily fishes his phone out of his pocket. his heartbeat kicks up a notch. dad?

but his screen is dark and silent. dean blinks at it uncomprehendingly, a crick in his neck from being pressed against the impala’s side panel making itself known.

then, dean is throwing himself across the bench seat and scrambling for the glove box because oh shit. it’s one of dad’s phones.

he flips through them frantically, discarding them as soon as he can see if they’re ringing or not. on what must be the last ring, he finally finds it, an old motorola that’s held together with gauze tape and not much else.

“h’llo?” he asks. he winces, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. that’s something he’s noticed since dad fucked off. he goes hours, sometimes days, without talking. his voice comes out croaky and disused when he finally breaks his silences. this one makes his throat hurt, and he looks around dazedly for an old bottle of cola he knows he left somewhere.

he squints at the little clock on the dashboard--it's still in PST, he's pretty sure, so...5:18 AM? 4:18, maybe?

“is this dean winchester?” a woman’s voice, neutral and plain.

dean freezes.

his body flushes completely cold, ice sharp in his veins and prickling across his scalp.

there is not a single contact in these phones that should know his real name. not anyone that sounds like that, anyway. dean gapes, staring into the middle distance as his mind whirls. maybe an old hunting friend of dad’s? dean can’t think of a single woman besides annie, and her contact name would’ve pulled up. who—

“hello?” the woman asks, still carefully, unflappably neutral.

“wh—yes. yeah. that’s um. that’s me.” dean flounders, startled into honestly. hackles raised, he adds, “who’s askin’?”

“i’m calling from st. florian’s medical center in palo alto, california. you’ve been listed as the next of kin for samuel winchester. is that correct?”

time

stops.

“what.” dean croaks, numb.

“is that correct?” the woman repeats blandly. dean can barely hear her over the ringing in his ears, getting louder and louder as his heartbeat pulses in his throat.

“sam. is he—i’m his big brother. is he—…” his throat closes around the words, too fucking horrible to say. sammy. sam. dean's kid, eighteen years old, fury and righteousness and hatred, slamming the motel door behind him. four years of complete radio silence.

dead. dead. dead. deaddeaddead. dad gone, sam dead--a strangled noise squeezes out of dean's throat and he struggles for breath, time moving too quickly around him now, the woman back in his ear as dean begs his heart to stop so he can hear every syllable.

“samuel’s apartment building caught fire tonight, and he was brought in by an ambulance. we don’t have a lot of information at this time. samuel was severely injured, in a lot of distress, and had to be sedated. he's in critical condition. are you willing to come and make medical decisions on his behalf?”

numb. numb, numb, numb down to his toes.

he knows his hands are shaking because the phone is vibrating on his cheekbone, knows he must be breathing because there is a trapped, animal wheeze echoing in the car, knows the world must still exist because another semi rattles down the highway in the distance.

dean asks to confirm the only thing that matters, needs to hear it explicitly, or the world will end on a shitty no-name county road, and dean will die, aged twenty-six. "he's alive?"

"yes. are you--"

dean doesn’t remember much after that. he doesn't remember anything at all until he hits city limits.

[according2thelore]

the ventilator whirs, and sam's chest rises in an inhale. his eyes are taped shut, long lashes folded awkwardly underneath the bandage tape. to keep his eyes from drying out, the nurse had said, when dean asked.

"you're a goddamn fucking idiot," dean says, in the second pause where sam's chest stops, before the machine exhales for him. sam says nothing, and the ventilator exhales. "why'd you go back inside?"

the question comes out like a plea, but sam does not answer him.

it's a silent treatment, dean thinks, for not coming to get him. for not calling. for letting him leave in the first place.

police officers had come in and out of their room--of sam's room--over the past few days. dean doesn't know why. a medically-induced coma means he's not fucking awake, goddamn it.

they ask dean questions he can't answer. why wasn't sam home when the fire started? did he run into the building to save his girlfriend? to save something else? did sam smoke? was anyone else in the apartment? did anyone in the apartment smoke? sam received a call thirty minutes before the fire started--who is brady johnston?

they show him yearbook photos and glossy print-outs of a blonde girl. jessica moore. twenty-one years old, dead. burned to death. they show him photos of jessica and sam feeding each other slices of pizza, and looking tipsy and in love at some kind of formal, and wearing matching giants baseball hats.

how long were they dating? did sam ever introduce her to you? who were their friends? what was his major? what was her major? how did they meet? were they having any problems? could sam have started the fire?

dean had reacted so explosively to that question that they threatened to arrest him. dean had only quieted down when he realized it meant they'd take him away from sam's bedside, which he hadn't left.

why did sam assign you as his emergency contact if you don't know anything about him?

dean gives them the same answer: i don't know.

he doesn't say, but i do know his allergies. i do know his fears. i do know he loves the red m&ms and hates the brown ones even though they all taste the same. i know his feet always get cold and his favorite month is november and he used to be scared of the dark and that scar on the knuckles on his right hand was from saving my life. i know that i have his initials carved into my left leg with a knife. i know that he's the only thing that ever truly belonged to me. i know that i only breathe right now because he does.

for the fortieth time that day, dean reaches his hand out and catches himself just before he can put a hand on sam's arm. it's covered in bandages. all of him is. even up to his neck, sam is covered in bandages that ooze pus and smell like rot. when dean looked, the hospital gown barely touches sam's knees, but those are wrapped too. second and third degree burns. 30% of his total body. extensive smoke inhalation damage to his lungs, his throat, his mouth.

the cops tell him sammy pushed past the firefighters to get into the collapsing building. that they'd had to go in and haul him out. his arms had been the worst, almost burned entirely through, in some places.

his surgeons--because sammy has multiple, and they come and steal him for hours at a time and dean can't watch or wait by the door in case sam needs him--tell him they don't know if sam'll be able to move his arms again.

he might never write or flip through a book or dress himself ever again.

there's a bald spot behind his left ear, where he must've landed on something metal, because his skin is warped and melted in a triangle shape. just that one spot. a lot of his hair was burnt--and the gagging odor of singed hair had followed him even after dean and a nurse gently combed water through it--so they shaved it off. sam's hair has always grown too quick for his own good through, and it's started to grow thicker.

he looks young. terribly, horrifically young.

his eyes are sunken and his wrists are thin and his bones are too prominent, like his skin has been shrink-wrapped to his skeleton. the skin that dean can see is pale. dean is constantly fighting off the urge to chafe it, to breathe in his palms and press it to sam's skin, because he looks so fucking cold.

but he's not allowed to touch sam because 1) it'll hurt him and 2) it could kill him. dean is a danger to him, as much as the flames. he's severely immunocompromised now that his skin barrier is gone, the doctor told him, one of the ones that dean likes, because she tells him things straight even if dean has to look it up later. don't touch him, don't breathe on him, don't try to move him. we'll wear gloves when we come to turn him.

"was it for your girl?" dean asks, voice cracking with disuse. "you went in to get her out?" sam doesn't reply. "you're a fucking idiot." sam's chest rises. pause. sam exhales.

dean doesn't know why he's here.

most of the medical decisions have come down to doctors saying "we think sam's best chance is--" and dean agreeing to whatever it is before than can get the rest of their words out. his best shot. yes. whatever it is, dean'll do it.

he doesn't think sam would want him here.

it was probably a left over from a school form or maybe even back when sam had gotten his only real driver's license. sam just hadn't gotten the chance to change it. he would want other people here, other friends.

none of them have shown up, yet.

dean was told jessica's body hadn't even gone to the hospital, it had gone straight to the morgue. the funeral was a few days ago. sammy had only been under a week and a half, but things move quickly, dean guesses, when it comes to dead bodies. he wouldn't know. he only ever deals with them when they're bones. sammy's going to be real torn up he missed the funeral. he's going to be real fucked up that she's dead. he went in that building for nothing. burned himself almost to death for nothing.

dean's going to have to tell him. no, dean will tell him. it needs to come from him, not these doctors that don't know him, who don't even know what color his eyes are because they've been taped shut for a week.

dean doesn't know what to do with himself, with his body. he can't touch sam, he can't ask sam any of the thousands of questions he has. he ignores the texts he gets from dad, what look like coordinates. he calls dad and tells him sam's in the hospital, but he doesn't call back.

one of the ICU nurses brings dean a cot that dean has been sleeping in, tucked into the corner away from sammy's machines so he can't mess anything up. there's a shower in sammy's bathroom that dean has been using, and all the nurses call him by name. they talk to sam like he's awake, which dean appreciates. they don't talk around him, like the surgeons do.

dean has never felt this helpless in his life.

he's been having nightmares, when he can sleep, of being four years old and the baby in his arms bubbling and melting and turning to ash. he has nightmares of trying to haul sam out or screaming at him, and sam can't hear him.

he can't do anything. he's completely useless. there aren't bones to burn or artifact to find or magic potion to take. this is entirely sam's battle, his cells working overtime to heal each other and keep him alive.

dean wonders how many of those cells they have in common, and knows his must be working themselves on overtime in sammy's blood, under his skin, in his lungs. sam has to want to live, and dean doesn't know if he's enough of an enticement.

suddenly, sam's eyelid twitches. dean sits up straight in his chair. he gets as close to sam as he feels comfortable, and--there it is again, a single pulse, like his eyes are swiveling underneath his taped lids. dean's heartbeat punches up into his throat.

sam hasn't moved once, since they got him here. what does that--

there's a noise, and sam's monitor, which has been ticking steadily, beeps loudly. dean's eyes flick up to the monitor, and one of the numbers pulses red. it jumps from 62 to 88 to 101 to 120.

"sammy?" dean asks, but sam has fallen still once more. quick footsteps, and a nurse sticks his head in. before dean can ask what's going on, sam's monitor lets out a long, trilling beep that makes him flinch.

"can we get a doctor in here?" the nurse calls, and the footsteps get louder. the numbers on the monitor are changing, and dean doesn't know what any of them mean, but suddenly, the room is full of people. someone has hands on dean's shoulders, and he's being moved.

v-tach, they say, how long? what's his pressure? they ask, someone call a code blue, they shout.

no longer sam, just the patient, and dean is no longer dean, he's mr. winchester as people continue to move him, as he's shoved out of sam's room, as he fights to get back in, as an orderly holds him back, as he shouts what's happening, what's happening, someone tell me what's going on, please, sammy, sammy, sammy, sammy, sammy--

[ohnoitsthebat]

Did you ever go looking for fairy rings and hope the fae would steal you?

this is such a lovely question! i wish i had done this. when i was about 10, though, my cousin and i would write our own movie scripts about the fae and disappearing into their world.

i did love to take the spices from my mom's spice rack, put all of them into a bowl, mix them up, and pretend it was a witch's brew. that was fun. (but not fun when i tasted them)

[writinginthesecrettrees]

I used to make “magic potions” for my baby sisters to drink.

Either warm milk with cardamom, nutmeg, and cloves (sweetened) and some food coloring to make it purple or blue, or “fizzy” lemonade which was lemonade made with fresh lemons, poured into a glass with a tiny sprinkle of baking side because it reacted with the acid to “fizz” the drink.

So my brews were tasty!

[hellativity]

this is what supernatural is like when they run out of lore after season 5 and they have to raise the stakes by just making shit up

[wetcoatt]

shapes

[soulless-puppy]

Lagomorpha Leporidae

by soulless_puppy

Relationships: Sam & Dean, Sam & Rowena

Tags: No Warnings Apply, POV Sam Winchester, Crack, Rabbits, Witchcraft, Mistaken Identity, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Season/Series 12, Case Fic

Summary: Once he has Dean’s fluffy five-pound body hugged to his chest, Sam breathes a sigh of relief.

>>> link! <<<

[bitchfacebrothers]

@spnfanficpond a bunny fic, if you want it ^.^

[ohmysinner]

gilmore girls era jared, my beloved

[samdollanganger-deactivated2026]

sam winchester bleeding and whimpering and taking it like he was made for it

[lonewolf638]

"dean suffers in silence :(" if thats true why do i hear him whining abt his self worth issues every other episode

[sounknownvoid]

Found it! ... 😅😂 thanks for the idea - @samangstielwinchester!

[starlit-meadow]

i miss when subscriptions didnt really exist and you could just pay one time to buy an app or some software, and then just.. have it. without ads. without recurring costs. without more paywalls. it was just yours forever.

[luisonte]

Sin cgi pierde mucho

[tiredspacedragon]

Sound on

It looks like it can't get any better, but I am begging you, turn the sound on

[greatmountainfloofsquatch]

I don't know this sport.

[hi-im-dazey]

@writinginthesecrettrees

Does this make up for Rubber ?

[writinginthesecrettrees]

You joined me for Master of the Universe, we all good!

[codependency-is-real]

Humbert renames and infantilizes Dolores Haze as Lolita, his private, erotic construct of the eternal nymphet. She is never fully allowed to be the growing, autonomous Dolores.

Dean doesn’t fully love the adult, autonomous Sam Winchester. He loves Sammy the most. It’s his private perfect nymphet version of Sam: the pure, submissive little brother who remains eternally small and dependent beneath Dean’s hand.