#wend*go

[the-supernatural-rewatch-project]

s1e2 "Wend*go"

supernaturals second episode, and its first (and certainly not last) to feature a monster of the week taken and bastardized from indigenous mythologies or folklore... why am i rewatching this again? let the records show that i am white, and all the indigenous voices who i have heard / read have lead me to make the decision to censor the name w*. okay with the housekeeping out of the way, what's sloppy sam and daddy issues dean upto this week.

aw man the recap made me angry again that jess died. i miss her. all three minutes of screentime she had.

oh boy i wonder whats gonna happen to these poor campers

brooo they got the ds local play!!!! takes me back

how do they still have battery in thier cells/ds's on day SIX OF CAMPING???

cory monteith :')

and they are dead

okay so how long has it been since the events of the last episode? the existence of the monster of the week as an episodic style implies a quick succession between episodes, but the fully completed gravestone for jess implies that it has been a quick minute since she dies (also apparently she dies november 5th 2005, i didn't know the exact date was know so thats interesting!)

like gravestones take a hot minute, especially the fancy kind with the pictures.

BUT there still isn't grass over her grave,and cemetery gardeners are QUICK with the sod after someone is buried... so like... did jessica already have a grave with her name and birthdate engraved, and it just needed date of death and the picture??? (not unheard of but unlikely for someone her age)

wait, im dumb as fuck. she died on the cealing of a suspicious house fire, she has been in a coroner or medical examiners office for a while, she was just buried but its been a bit since she died leaving time for the engraving.

^^^ this nerd almost became a funeral director.

oh yeah, i like the nod to carrie.

WAIT IT WAS A DREAM. it means nOTHING. and even if it was a dream it was written by someone who wouldn't think about the amount of time to engrave a toombstone

of okay so its been atleast a week since jess's death.

oh yeah, its john who is sending them to blackwater ridge, i forgot about his whole sending them on hunting trips shit he did at the beginning.

"i think i know how you feel" the first and last time dean shows emotion and it feels genuine.

forgot how 'old' the tech feels, and how magical it was.

magical laptop nand its magical ability to solve any problem dads journal cant solve.

the way they describe the w* is quite nice, you cant see it its too fast, it unlocked the door. it really brings out the unsettledness of a monster you cant see.

does dean really think ''corporal' is too fancy??? like girl

oh god i forgot the creepy cave.

aaaaaand cory is dead :(

okay, nvm deam had two (2) genuinely tender moments in the episode.

"not even crickets"

oh god i forgot about it using the voices to lure them.

this is one of the episodes that i cam remember a lot of, but god its still creepy.

okay it taking the packs was smart

oh boy dads journal, i wonder what magical answer it will have this time

"no body likes a skeptic roy", just fuck him dean!! its not gay if you are camping!!! everyone knows that.

"saving people hunting things, the family business" god i hate that line. there was once a time where i genuinely wanted that tattooed on me. thank fuck you cant get a tattoo at 14.

its really interesting how they are coping differently with johns disappearance, dean see's it as him giving them a job, whereas sam sees it as him being in trouble.

once again, i can see why wincest was the big ship, not for me... but i can see why.

OH NO ROY IS GONNA DIE!!!!, anyways

vey well timed body dropping from a tree

also does kripke have like a thing for brod dripping on poeple because uhhh... two episodes in and we are at three instances of blood dripping on people.

if the saddle club has taught me ANYTHING its that you defo shouldn't go down an abandoned mineshaft

its too dark i cant see

magic flareguns, why were they in the cave??? just to solve a problem the writes wrote themselves into???? yup!

deans first thought of how to lure it out was to start yell flirting. okay gayboy.

it just looks like... a gargoyle?? i feel like they could have done "human turned into a monster better" then just, paint them grey and give it strange ears. to be fair i have a very high standard of what a good 'human turned into a monster' should be because the s2 of the x files finale where mulder and scully are in the train car with the 'alien's' that are actually humans, deduced from their smallpox inoculation scars is peak television. PEAK TELEVISION!!!

also, i am now requited to start a tally of how many rewatches i can bring up the x files in.

the actress who plays Haley (Gina Holden) looks so familler to me, but i looked at her imdb and noting is ringing a bell

sam drives the impala.

okay, well that was an episode. asides from the butchering of the wend*go story/mythology to fit the show. it wasn't a bad episode. its pretty hard to fuck up a monster of the week episode. again, i didn't like the prosthetics that they used for the wend*go. but asides from that... its fine. its okay. its a solid episode. it's not the best, and its not the worst. sam and dean have a nice heart to heart. yeah. very mid episode.

[nerdyspies]

the summoning becoming a vocal stim of mine is so funny what if one day while im singing to myself in my kitchen and fuckass wiggly just appears.. than what do i do? sorry bro i dont need your powers, your summoning song is just rlly catchy???

[galpalaven]

feeling the creative itch of this character already stirring. asking kana about his home in rauatai and she is just :0

[shootinwebs]

i love how charlie overshares to alastor. like she doesn't see him as just a terrifying demonic forest cryptid but a friend as well

[toonbly]

i have to listen to music whenever i get my t-shots bc im Deathly afraid of needles, so i just had the very surreal experience of listening to the lords in black beginning to maniacally laugh and chant at the EXACT moment my girlfriend stuck me with a needle. its what wiggly wouldve wanted

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[danielnelsen]

sometimes it really does feel like awakening walked so inquisition could crawl

[bitchapalooza]

Oh to not be in a world consumed by modern misinformation and wrongful and/or offensive usage of Native folklore and culture…

[ratgingi]

oh my god talking abt oc medias made me remember the murderer oc dating sim i wanted to make

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

i have not worn makeup since i got this cat, which was my first mistake. trying to remember the only look i know how to do, which is a brown smokey eye with perhaps just a touch too much gold in the inner corner highlight, gold liner to about the middle of the pupil, normal black liner from the middle of the pupil back and along the lower lash line. nothing fancy! nothing too dramatic! the gold and my eyelashes distract from the indifferently applied amokey eye bc i have never really learned how to adjust for a left eye with more of a hood than the right!

anyway this fuckin cat. hopped up on the bathroom counter, tail went bristle brush, thought about hissing, didn’t, but got spooked anyway and leapt off in such a way that all my makeup brushes somehow landed IN her litter box. under the sink. this is no huge loss bc they were elf from six years ago but like!!! bro!!! come on!!!!

[kirkwallsquad]

nooo i fucked up the awakening quest order im gonna have to replayyyyyyy

[cinnammonfairy]

poly141 & f! reader ♡ | slight somno, smut, squirting, a whole lotta cum, piv ༝

"pretty thing welcoming us home like this."

"been teasing us so much 'fore we left, 's only right that we fuck you good now hm?"

barely comprehending your situation in your state of lethargy, your bones still weary with sleep, your eyes blinked open to price sitting next to your curled frame on the spacious couch. his hands grabbing your flimsy camisole to push the cotton fabric down, exposing your tits. you gasped as you lumbered slowly awake to gaz peeling your shorts off and down your legs, price lifting your upper body to rest your head upon his lap.

"w-what?"

"s okay darling, we'll take good care of you."

simon manhandles you up on your knees on the soft cushion, your knees pressed open wide by gaz revealing your panty clad cunt to his and soap's gaze. you blinked up at price, tears now pooling in your eyes. he smirks and presses a soft kiss upon your forehead, strong fingers cupping your cheek to keep your gaze firmly on his, he must find your reactions to this unexpected foray amusing.

"i- i didn't know you guys would be home s-so soon!"

you exclaimed exasperatedly, tone rising in pitch when soap takes hold of your panties and pulls to reveal your pussy lips, the minuscule fabric now only covering and pressing tightly against your clit.

"and what a pretty gift we got waiting for us here at home."

"we've been waiting so long to fuck you baby, and we come home to you like this sweetheart..."

tears spill from your eyes, as john chortles and rubs them slowly away.

"nothing to be 'fraid of darling"

you jerk in simon's grasp as you feel fingers slip your panties to the side, baring your pussy to the cool air. fingers that are wending it's way to your clit, rubbing tight circles over the nub as your legs trembled at the unexpected yet pleasant stimulation.

"can see your little hole clenching sweetheart, does she need something baby? she want my fingers and my cock yeah?"

gaz dips his fingers slowly in your now weeping hole, and thrusts shallowly, johnny's thumb now engulfing your clit rubbing firmly, drenching gaz's fingers with more of your slick.

"already so wet darling, so ready for my cock."

tears cling to your lashes as you feel the blunt head of gaz's cock rubbing over your slit, gathering your wetness and tapping harshly against your clit. your face still held in price's grip, looser now that you can turn your head to watch gaz as the head of his cock enters your hole, easing his way in one thrust, engulfing his cock in your tight, wet hole. he groans at the warmth suffusing his cock, your pussy's grip on his thick cock tight as a vice. you moan at the intrusion, your hole stretched to forcibly take the entirety of his manhood in a solid thrust.

price brings your face up to his as gaz starts thrusting, bottoming out in every thrust, the wet sounds of your pussy accommodating his cock and the plap of skin against skin, price slotting his lips over yours to get a taste of you an effort to appease you, to get you even more pliable than you already currently were. your pussy clenches tightly gripping gaz's cock as price pries his tongue into your mouth, johnny's fingers back on your clit as if impatient to witness your release.

"go on darling, come on my cock sweet girl."

"such a good lass."

you felt the twitch of gaz's cock as you came, him following not long after, his milky cum gathering on your hole and dripping down his balls with the force of your orgasm and his continued thrusts to ride out both your highs. pressing a kiss on your shoulder he eases his cock out of your cunt, the spill of his cum obscenely pooling out of your hole and down your thighs, making a mess of the couch.

your legs still firmly in place by simon, who's bulge is at your eye level, your eyes widened at the sudden feel of another cock, undoubtedly johnny's if the sudden handful of your ass that he was currently grabbing to pull you and fill you with his cock was anything to go by. the frantic thrusts and fingers that never left your clit and continued toying with your pebbled nipples, grabbing every inch of your skin that he could fondle. his moans a surprising delight as you mewled when his cock reached particularly deep parts of you in his eagerness. drenching his cock in your cum, he didn't hesitate to pump you full of his in return.

now limp yet still alert in simon's hold, he handed you over to price his fingers digging into your hips, his pants and boxers open just enough for his cock to be out. sinking you down on his cock and elevating you so he could thrust from below, deep into your pussy.

"good girl baby, such a good girl f' me."

"taking my cock so well yeah? pretty pussy feels like it was made just for us baby."

price's thrusts were slower, making a point to reach your more sensitive spots that made you moan so pretty on top of him. you cried out in overstimulation, the mess of cum spilling from your messy hole lubricating his fat cock, the filling stretch making you whimper and wail, docile on his chest.

"oh don't cry baby, just a little bit more. pretty pussy gonna make me cum. gonna fill you up sweetheart."

you came at the rough scratch of his happy trail over your clit, a quivering mess on his chest as he pumped you full of his cum.

you were a disarray who was put back together again the moment simon stuffed you full of his cock in a mating press, his cock the thickest and most filling of them all, you felt stretched wide yet he was ever so patient in feeding you every inch. kissing you, as his heavy balls slapped against your ass with every deep thrust of his cock, the vulgar stretch of your hole to take his cock. it was no wonder that you squirted over the sheer stimulation of his thrusts, making a mess of his abdomen at your release over his thrusts, the slick pool of cum a lewdly gathering mess over his cock and your cunt.

"such a pretty girl squirting on me like that, pretty cunt loved my cock so much she couldn't help but make a cute mess."

the mess of cum and squirt dribbling out of your gushing hole they'd contend was their greatest masterpiece.

ᡣ𐭩 idk guys .... i was just itching to write smth even though i know this probably isn't the best i hope you guys will enjoy it all the same though <3 should have a longer fic up sooonnn! this was mostly written for those who were looking for gaz in my other drabble actually hhehe

© cinnammonfairy.

[english-history-trip]

Dan Meth is definitely the pen name you'd come up with on meth.

One of my favorite hobbies is thinking about the fucked up implications of this fantasy world map my parents got me for christmas

[Image ID: photo of a map. On the left side of the map is Middle Earth, with the Shire and Mordor labeled. To the direct right of Mordor is Whoville.]

[its-ticsticstics]

The Wend*go is Not Your Cryptid

I'm Algonquin/Ojibwe and this is a spirit that comes from our teachings.

As a young child, the elders taught me to never even SPEAK its name, to not even sing its songs. When we sang a song about it during drumming group one year, we all got in trouble.

You do not spell the word or speak the word.

It's NOT a "cryptid" or a "spooky story" for white people to appropriate.

Its bearly spoken about in our own communities, and even then, only very carefully.

Again, not because its "creepy" but because its respected and something in our traditions that is not played around with; so its certainly not for non-ojibwe/algonquin people to speak about whatsoever. Period.

[deermouth]

Let Me Speak First Of Revelations And Next Of Dark Deceit Then I'll Speak Of Champions Of Lovers, Gods, And Beasts My Song Is Long And Twisted It Worms, It Winds, It Wends It Carries Few, It Drowns Many And Those I Love, It Rends My Song Has Taken Hold Of Me It Grips My Tongue, My Throat My Voice Cries Truths I Never Knew And To Fight Is Just To Choke So Let Me Dwell Eternal And In Ruined Flesh Ascend For My Song Has No Beginning... And The Current Flows On Without End If I Could Trace With Bloodless Fingers If My Hands Could Shape The Flow I'd Bear This Song To The Precipice And Rend Us Both To Dust Below We'd Both Go Plunging Downwards One Final Fall From Grace I'd Howl, I'd Scream In Victory And We'd Be Gone Without A Trace But We'll Never Be Rid Of Each Other My Song, My Sorrow and I So I'll Bear It Trembling Onwards To Drift On, To Dream, To Die And Where My Final Footsteps Fall Something Dreadful Shall Arise Its Gaze Shall Fall O'er Trembling Plains Its Wrath Shall Scald The Sun And Where Its Howling Forebears Walked Some Day There Shall Be None The Wise Man Knows The Taste Of Rot All Lovers Part As Dust And Even The Kings In Their Bowers Of Steel Shall Wither In Ruin And Rust This Rotten World Shall Wheeze Its Last This Hateful Hymn Shall Cease But As My Last Breath Splits My Throat I'll Wheeze Through Splintered Teeth One Last Song Of Revelations Of Prophets' Dark Deceptions Of Love, And Gods' Defeat Of Love, And Gods' Defeat

The Silt Verses (2021-2024), chapter titles

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups

I am demanding my smooches now.

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

CW: Asshole Simon and Johnny using you for sex instead of each other. Calling out someone else's name during sex. Pregnancy mentioned. Death of a spouse mentioned.

Simon slipped. Well. Simon slipped first. Johnny slipped up too. They ruined you, tugging you between them instead of reaching out for the other. You couldn’t fathom them caring. Even now.

If they cared about you they wouldn’t have touched you. You had been twenty-four and still so young. God, you were thirty now and still felt like you didn’t have a handle on life. Johnny had been twenty-nine and Simon thirty-three. Old enough to know better. At least to know better than you.

A series of coincidences led you to a one-year work visa and as an American transfer under the 141 task force. You handled paperwork mostly, and whatever didn’t involve paperwork meant dealing with your counterparts back in DC. You keep slightly funny hours to stay working on Washington time but that wasn’t unusual for anyone else who shared your building. The lights stayed at a low dim all day and night because three pm and three am felt a lot alike when rolling in off a job.

You were a nodding professional with Captain Price, Lieutenant Sanderson, and Sergeant Garrick. Sergeant MacTavish flirted with you. You accepted it with a wary eye and a cool confirmation of what he meant each time. Lieutenant Riley watched. He never spoke to you unless he needed something until the night in the bar. Six months had elapsed on your visa when Gaz, as he had asked you to call him, invited you to the bar with everyone. Seeing no reason to not say yes you had gone.

Off base and with a little buzz in your veins you let Johnny flirt. He insisted on his first name as he sidled up close to you halfway through your first drink. You’d always been wary of Johnny’s flirting. He’s attractive with all the muscles he maintains for work, the air of danger that lingers around him like cologne, and that barely visible scar near his lip. Problem is he knows it. Or at least he knows people react to him with pretty privilege. He makes you laugh. You don’t know why it surprises you, of course, he had to have a good sense of humor to deal with his job.

Lieutenant Riley was watching again. The prickling of your senses that tells you a predator is watching is what gave it away. Staying at the bar smiling at Johnny seemed safer until you had to pee. Passing your cup to the bartender with a quick ‘I’m done with this’ you excuse yourself from the bar and wend your way around the nearly touching tables to find the bathroom.

The narrow wood-paneled hallway had a single bulb shining down on you from a sconce high on the wall. Taking the time to dry your hands completely you pause when you see that the hallway has gone dark. Diffusing light from the main room reaches only so far into the darkness. Scanning you see nothing out of the ordinary and let the crack of light from the bathroom disappear as the door settles closed.

Running the tips of your fingers over the wall, the bumps telling the tales of so many decades of drunken bathroom trips, you touch something that is made of steel and flesh. Jumping back with a squeak you search with your gaze for anything.

“Why does Johnny like you?”

Riley. You let out the breath you had been holding. It’s Lieutenant Riley, not someone who would hurt you.

“You know sir I have no idea. Do you know?” You aimed your voice up.

“I might have an idea.” He surprises you with a touch to your neck. Trailing up to your jaw before dry lips brush against yours.

Stepping back you gave a startled exclamation.

“Ah…uh..Excuse me, Lieutenant, I think I need to go home.”

Skirting around him you flee like a hare that caught the sense of a hawk in the sky. When you retrieve your purse from the chair next to Johnny you find a beautiful woman draped across it talking him up.

“Sorry, I just need my bag,” you said drawing both of their attention to you.

“Ah, bonnie,” Johnny started sadly, “Heading out so soon?”

“Yeah um,” you scratch the back of your head, low near your hairline. “I need to head home.”

Standing he ignored the woman flirting with him entirely.

“Let me walk you home?” He steps too close to you but the body in a chair directly behind your ass keeps you from moving for more space.

Glancing to the storm brewing in the woman’s face you try and redirect him.

“I mean you looked like you were having such a good conversation I’m gonna go wait for a cab. Thank you for the offer though. I will see you at the office tomorrow.” With that you scooted past, unsure how you felt about the full body contact required.

Okay, well your lady bits knew exactly how they felt about it but you as a person? You were unsure. It felt like you had been dropped into a game that you didn’t know the rules of. It continued on like that, them pushing you and breaking your boundaries down one touch at a time until Simon pounded into you from behind in a supply closet. You crept closer to that temporary oblivion when Simon slipped.

A guttural moan washed over your back, Simon’s fingers tightening down on your hips.

“Johnny, oh Johnny!” He came then with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Any chance of an orgasm on your end dried up like a puddle on concrete in direct sun. Simon didn’t notice, pulling out and cleaning up the mess he had made of you before pulling you up and then your underwear. He gave your ass a light tap and planted a kiss at your temple before leaving you to the scent of cleaning supplies.

You worked the day in the eye of a storm. Mentally reaching out to touch your emotions you found only a torrent of fast-moving thoughts and feelings. You made it to your flat before the pressure of the eye wall faulted, crushing you under its weight. The next week you had a hard time eating, focusing, and doing anything outside of work really. Work had you hyper-vigilant always on watch for the spooky silent lieutenant that might try to pull you into a dark room. You didn’t think you could survive another encounter with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Oddly enough Johnny noticed the distress you seemed to be under and took to feeding you. He dropped off a snack at your desk every day and chatted with/at you until you ate it all before disappearing into the bowels of the building again. Three weeks after the Simon incident as you had taken to calling it in your head Johnny had pulled the same shit.

Flat on your back, knees nearly touching your ears he rammed into you. Pleasure crested for you as he could no longer hold on.

“Simon,” the breathy whisper betrayed him. He must have thought you to far gone in your orgasm to hear him.

They had to be fucking kidding you.

Would it hurt less if they were kidding you?

How the hell were you supposed to deal with this happening to you twice?

Johnny pulled out and flopped face down on his bed beside you.

Sitting up slowly you lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna use the hall bathroom to go pee. I’ll probably be a minute.”

He grunts his acknowledgment and you set your exit strategy into action. Johnny knew you preferred to put your clothes back on for cuddles if you left the bed for any reason. Grabbing up all of your items you stepped from his bedroom hugging your clothes so tight the zipper of your jeans bit into the side of your breast. Peeing and washing your hands you dressed.

Stepping from the bathroom you called down the hall to Johnny.

“Do you have any cheese or nuts?”

“In the cabinet or the fridge,” came his return call.

Good. He wouldn’t think some odd sounds coming from this direction odd then. Tying your shoes on you open and shut a couple of cupboards and the fridge before rattling the dishes in the dishwasher grabbing your purse and leaving his flat.

Johnny didn’t come after you if he noticed your absence. Arriving home you noted the time. It was four pm on a Friday, Captain Price would still be at the office doing paperwork.

You called him as you started packing.

“Price.”

“Hi, Captain. I am just calling to let you know there has been a family emergency back home and I will be hopping on a plane tonight. I don’t know when this will be resolved. Can you send me any paperwork that I will need to complete so my work visa will close out as it should?”

“I’m sorry to hear about the family emergency, you let me know if you need anything. Your contract will run its course, including the agreed-upon pay, and conclude the day before your visa expires. The only thing you will need to worry about is talking to an accountant out here to figure out your share of taxes to be paid.”

Captain Price had always been like that with you, straightforward and honest. Unlike his men.

“That sounds reasonable and doable. If you have a recommendation of a firm I can reach out to that would be immensely helpful,” you stare at your shoe options, deciding which ones to leave behind since your bag was getting too full with the haphazard way you filled it.

“I don’t have one off the top of my head but I will ask around. Will this number still work?”

“No, this is a UK number that will probably stop working somewhere over the Atlantic. Can you send the info to my work email? I will be able to access that until my visa expires right?”

“That is correct. I will send it there. Safe travels and thank you for all of your hard work with us.”

“Of course, and thank you for being a good captain and a good man to work with.” You ended the call before he could think to question the sentence.

A call to the cab company came next. With the car ordered you left a voicemail for your landlord telling him the same information, family emergency feel free to rent the flat out now. It was a furnished option so nothing here that held an emotional attachment would fit in your suitcase.

The only thing you left behind was a framed photo of you standing with all the guys at a party face down on the table. Anything else you weren’t taking got bagged and sent to the bins.

You cried at the airport, and on the plane, and waiting for your sibling to come and save you from the airport. Telling someone that you had been coming would have been smart, but the only goal was to escape. When they arrived Ash gave you the biggest hug which started your crying all over again. You stayed with them and their partner as you tried to piece your life back together.

Taking the month you still received pay from England you walked the trails of the mountains you called home. They brought you so much peace, like hiding in the skirts of a trusted mother. When you reestablished care with your midwives you found out that your arm implant birth control needed changing, it was overdue. Standard procedure for a well-woman check included peeing in a cup.

“Are you aware that you are pregnant?”

The thin nurse midwife with wrinkles, a long dusty brown braid, and beaded necklaces ringing her neck looked at you from the computer. You must have gone white as a sheet because she reacted by having you lay on the floor, elevating your feet, and calling for assistance. Your uterus had been achy. That’s why you scheduled the appointment.

Pregnant? You weren’t nauseous or overly emotional, only a little tired and achy. This was nothing like being pregnant on TV.

Fuck. That meant Johnny or Simon had to be the father.

Did you even want to keep this pregnancy?

Another nurse with a kind face joined you and your nurse in the room, dragging in a portable ultrasound machine.

“Hi dear, this is a bit of standard procedure. There are a few reasons that a pregnancy test can pop positive. We want to rule out some of the harder-to-care-for options. Do you think we can help you stand and get on the bed?”

At your nod the nice nurses helped you to your feet and held on as you climbed onto the bed, laying back. They had you move your shirt and your pants and undies until the top of your pubes were visible. A grainy image appeared on the screen as the nurse glided the probe to and fro in the slimy gel.

“Alright, this here,” she pointed to a roundish object, “is your left ovary. That looks good. This will help me find your uterus.”

She slid down pressing slightly harder into you.

“Here is your uterus and there looks like one, two little embryos.” She pointed with her finger at each little dot.

“Twins?” you whisper, shocked and aghast.

“That’s what it looks like but things this early can change.” She slid the wand further, “Since we are here I am going to check out your right ovary as well and then we will get you cleaned up and discuss your options.”

The options included waiting, keeping, or a self-managed abortion which included a few prescriptions. They gave you a page of information for each option and sent you on your way with a follow-up appointment scheduled for a few weeks.

In shock, you called your best friend first. Larsen had become your best friend in the second grade and you two had stuck it out through thick and thin.

You told him everything. The entire story. No one else knew everything that had happened. Now Larsen did.

He offered to marry you.

You knew he was good for it. Larsen had never fallen in love, found the idea repulsive. The love you and he held for each other was deep and special, but not romantic. Marriage to Larsen would provide safety and stability, and the ability to change your name before Johnny or Simon could think to look for you. Even if you lost the pregnancy Larsen would be the best roommate and friend you could think of sharing this journey with.

“Yes, but let’s talk this over at dinner.”

The wedding had been a week later in front of a judge, with Ash as your witness and his mother as his.

Larsen never pressured you to make a decision about your pregnancy, simply talked through each option with you again and again until you decided you wanted to keep this gift. Simon and Johnny might have treated you as if they were evil but at least you stole something good from them in the process.

You had two boys growing inside you. To the growing delight of the specialty pregnancy team, you were a rare case of two separate fertilization babies. Distinct sacks and placentas meant two independent babies. Baby A was three weeks further in growth and development than baby B. This idea was confirmed when both boys arrived and looked nothing alike even covered in vernix.

Larsen had chuckled and chided the nurses in the halls for the odd looks you and the boys got. You had five amazing years with Larsen before he died of an aneurysm at work. He left you with a boatload of life insurance and two four-year-old boys who had just lost the only father they had ever known.

The boys knew Larsen didn’t help create them but they were so small it didn’t matter. He was their dad. The first thing you did after picking yourself up off the hospital chair was call and set up therapy for yourself and the boys. You would all need it.

Another two years passed, the boys started kindergarten and you started a cake decorating business from the house Larsen had bought you. You had paid it off with a portion of his death benefits. Everything was looking up. Despite the boys sometimes looking exactly like their genetic fathers, they were the most amazing thing in your life. Life was looking up until the house the bus stopped at went up for sale. Your neighbors mentioned an attractive-looking gay couple bought it and wouldn’t you know they had the best accents? One rang of rainy England and the other of Scotland. They were retired military and were excited for the change of pace this life would bring.

Nope, had to be a coincidence. Couldn’t be them. Why would they move to the States? Why your state of all places? No. Couldn’t be Simon and Johnny, you were still safe from their reach.

Except you weren’t.

They followed the boys home one day from the bus, shocked at seeing a child who looked so much like themselves. When you opened the door, royal icing dried to your cheek, you blanched and slammed the door shut slamming the deadbolt home.

The men that haunted your therapy sessions and the aches of your heart had found you. You and their boys.

Part 2

Masterlist | Secrets Masterlist