#one of those unsent messages with my entire full name

[hightowres]

GUYS THE WEIRDEST THING HAPPENED

[nervousmendes]

Unsent Part 1 - Shawn Mendes

shawn x reader

a/n : so I'm finally back afer a really long break and I've been so excited to edit and post this one. I should also mention that is my first time writing angst so please be kind. any feedback would be much appreciated!

warnings : none, just 1.5k words of amateur angst and heartbreak

find more of my work : masterlist

It was a pleasant Saturday, the sun was long gone and the moonlight that spilled through the window was just enough to relax you while you worked on your research paper. Doing a PhD was never easy, and now that classes were going on in full swing, you were almost convinced that it was impossible. Your days mostly just consisted of you going to classes, working on essays, trips to the library and maybe watch a little Netflix before you hit the sack. It was a routine now, and you were always used to this life. You found your calm in the chaos whenever you could talk to your boyfriend who was touring somewhere in some city across the ocean. With your time zones never matching and him constantly traveling it was impossible to keep up with his schedule but you both did your best to stay as connected as possible.

When tour first kicked off, you missed Shawn so much. You hated the distance and you spent hours on end talking to him on facetime, blowing kisses and whining about wanting "virtual cuddles". It was a nightly ritual for the two of you to facetime immediately after his show, and since he was still in America at the time, it was easier to find a way to talk when you were both free. Even when you'd be too busy looking into your laptop screen while he was performing for thousands of excited teenagers every other night, there was some kind of warmth, some affirmation, that at the end of the day it was always going to be the two of you together until forever. Even though the physical distance made you sad, your relationship with him never seemed to burn out. Your love for each other was always so strong that the thought of being apart from each other never threatened your relationship.

But things shifted with time and the routine facetime calls went from after every show to every alternate show and then to every few days. You'd only text each other once or twice a day and it always felt like it was just for the sake of it. Sometimes you would go about your entire day and only realize before going to bed that you hadn't thought of him or spoken to him once throughout. You now knew more about him through his Instagram stories than you did from what he told you about tour. The quick ‘I love you’s exchanged before hanging up felt more mechanical than natural. Of course it hurt you, it made you feel guilty and made your heart ache at the same time, but you knew deep down that he was feeling that way too. It's not like he remembered to text you every single day either. It now turned into a subconscious competition of who would start the conversation first. Every text was thought out, typed, backspaced and rephrased. It felt like you didn't know each other as well as you once did. You would overthink not knowing whether a read receipt would do or a reply would be more reassuring. Everything seemed different, and not at all in a good way. As much as you hated to even think of it, a part of you felt that maybe you didn't love him anymore but your heart would never let you admit that.

You often went to bed not feeling sleepy at all, replaying all the memories from the initial stages of your relationship. The giddy first date, the awkward first kiss, the butterflies, the cheesy gifts and all the sneaking around. It felt like you were both different people back then. And maybe you just grew up or grew out of it, but does real love ever fade away? Does it suddenly empty itself and leave a void in your heart? How does it just make everything go away? You always thought, no you knew that he was the one. You still remember eighteen months ago at the fair, when he went down on one knee holding a huge stick of cotton candy in his hand, asking you to be "his honorable girlfriend until the end of time" and promised to never break your heart, you kissed him with everything in you right outside the Ferris wheel knowing in your heart that you already kind of wanted this forever. He had always been the one.

You both appreciated the little things, it was kind of what built your relationship with him. The reassuring glances from across a crowded room that made you uncomfortable, the hand around your waist when a distant friend would be “too nice” to you or the way his fingers played with your hair after a long, disheartening day were some of the many things you loved about your relationship with him. You always felt the need to be physically connected to him and it was almost common knowledge that Shawn's love language too was touch. You desperately missed the way his hand would automatically lace with yours while you walked together and the warmth it spread in you when his hands would go to the back of your neck to leave a tender kiss to your lips. And when one of you had a rough day, the other would kiss the stray tears away and you would both hold each other so tight until your ragged breaths would slow down and your hearts would beat to the rhythm of each other's pulse. All of that now felt like a distant memory, it was like you had him and lost him at the same time. Everything you once had with each other slipped right through your fingers. You would kill to go back in time and figure out anything you could've done differently to give this all a miss because the thought of even having to talk about the collected weight on both of your chests physically pained you. What if this was over? And even if it's not, what if there's nothing left to give? How were you going to go on knowing he's not yours anymore? While you learnt to live a life without him, you never once forgot that he would come right back to you. And now maybe he won’t and there’s nothing you could do about it. So many questions and so many thoughts ran through your head as you were still staring at the text you received about five minutes ago.

Hey I landed sometime back. On my way to Pickering. See u tomorrow?             - Shawn

No “babe”. No “honey”. Nothing about the movies he watched on the flight, or the occasional "Omg we're SO watching it together". It was a plain text just to keep you informed. Mechanical. You thought back to the last time he came home from tour, when he first showed up at your door and pushed for you to come spend the weekend with him and his family in Pickering. Gone were those days when he'd ring you up as soon as he had service on his phone again to tell you how tiring the flight was or how much he hated the food, and on hearing that you would order his favourite pizza before he got home. You read and re-read the insipid words on your screen and after a lot of thinking, with a doubtful mind, you typed out a simple response. 

Yes. Hope your flight was okay, get some rest tonight!

After humming and hawing for long enough, you hit send and patiently waited for the thumbs up he left under your text as an instant response. His lack of interest in continuing the conversation did sting, but you quickly pushed it away considering the fact that you were going to meet him the very next day and he’d clearly already had a tiring flight back to Toronto. You shifted around, pulling your blanket closer up to your face and just as you turned away and closed your eyes, the screen of your phone lit up again.

We need to talk, don't we... - Shawn

Shawn sat in his car parked outside his childhood home, right leg bouncing unconsciously and staring intently at the text he had just sent. He patiently waited for it to go from 'delivered' to 'read'. But it didn't. His bouncing leg was now shivering and the words he regretted typing out were staring right back at him. His fingers trembled over the screen, and with a shaky breath he unsent the message without giving it another thought. He took his bags and walked up to Karen and Manny at the door smiling widely as he silently thanked technology for saving him. But little did he know that your eyes were on the screen of your phone as you read those nauseating words under his contact name, and then watched the pop up disappear a minute after.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I'm already working on part 2 and I can't wait to post it soon!! hope you liked this <3

dm me or reply to get added/removed from my taglist.

taglist : @theregoesmyherojd @shawnmendez @mendesficsxbombay @madatmendes @samaratheweirdo @mendesassemble @vinylmendes @ghostofjuls @shawnsreputation @amateurwriter27 @shawnblrficawards @shawnsprincesse

[cheshiremadd]

Superfluous

Chapter 1

AO3

Idea from a discord conversation that I’m fairly positive was started by @alexseanchai

Adrien and Marinette think they're in a polyamorous relationship. They're wrong.

-

Hi, Adrien, I was wondering if

Do you think you could

Hey, purely hypothetical….How receptive would you be to going on a date with me?

I’ve tried to tell you this so many times and I know you deserve to be told in person but I’m just not sure I ca

Marinoodle: Can we have lunch today? I have something I need to talk to you about.

Marinoodle: Alone. Don’t tell Alya and Nino?

Marinoodle: Sorry. I just. I’ll explain at the cafe.

She texted Adrien in the early morning. It was the easiest way, and still put her on the hook. If she started this with those damn eyes of his looking at her, and the eyes of everyone else, no way would she get the words out. It’d be troisiéme all over again.

She reminded herself that Chat believed in her, and she can’t let him down. She can’t go to their next patrol and tell him that she chickened out. It’s entirely unlike when Alya would...encourage her. Alya pushed, and sometimes didn’t think of things like consequences, and generally didn’t have to deal with things like anxiety. For her, the best way to do things was just to do them. Like that old American Nike meme. Chat fed her a quiet strength. Cooled her buzzing nerves. Said that she was capable, but that it was okay if she wasn’t ready. And Ladybug hated to disappoint him.

Her phone buzzed.

Agreste My Case: Of course!

Agreste My Case: Is everything okay?

Marinoodle: Cool. Cool. Everything’s cool. Grand really.

“Marinette!” Her Maman called from below. “If you don’t hurry, you won’t have time for breakfast.”

She was still wearing pajamas. Shit!

Marinette shot out of bed, thanking her lucky stars and Past Marinette for leaving out clothes for today. It was...well, it was Chat’s favorite outfit of hers. Past Marinette thought she could do with the confidence boost. And the reminder. When she’d shown it to Tikki, the tiny kwami had heartily approved.

It was a prom dress she found on clearance at the local thrift. The original was strapless, floor-length, and had rainbow stripes. She’d removed all the layers of the skirt but the outside and the lining, shortened it to hit just above her knee, and added a fitted denim jacket. The overall effect was airy and fun, and great for a day in the sun, and Chat had said that the sky in her eyes reflected in her outfit. Marinette had blushed, but laughed, and said, “Okay, okay, that pun deserves a cookie.”

That memory carried her through her morning routine. Teeth brushed, hair brushed, hair down? Chat liked it down. Hair in messy bun? Adrien said he thought it was cute. Hm. She shook her head; she didn’t have time for this. She’d leave it up and could take it down later if she needed something to fiddle with. Grab breakfast (two croissants in a white paper sack). Out the door. Cross the street. Stare at the school building.

She can’t do this. Why did she think she could? Alya’s going to know something’s up. Alya always knew. They’re all going to know. The whole class is going to take one look at her and know and be ready to laugh at her bumbling attempts to confess to the man she loves and Lila would be there and she’d smirk and say, Oh Marinette. You know I’m dating Adrien; he confessed to me weeks ago--

“-ette. Marinette? Are you okay?” A hand across her shoulder blades jolted her out of her spiral and two full feet away. Adrien raised his hands in defense, and Marinette could feel the embarrassment across her face. Her eyes hid behind her hands. A small whine left her mouth. She stewed in her mortification for a moment.

Then Adrien chuckled. And she peeked through her fingers. The early morning sunlight glittered in his hair. His eyes as green as the thick turf at the park. His teeth pushed into his lower lip, a failed attempt to hide his grin.

“It is far too early for this.” She closed her eyes again.

“You say that every morning, Marinette.” Kwamis, she loved the way he said her name. Slowly, intentionally, as if each syllable were important. Mar~i~nette.

“Yeah? Well, I mean it this time.” She grumbled.

They stood in silence. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Marinette could feel her nerves rising again. She was making this weird. She really thought she was over this.

“Marinette,” Adrien called to her, softly. “Is everything okay? Your texts sounded kind of...Is it Lila again?”

Her eyes snapped open and hands flew to her purse for her phone. Tikki dove deeper to avoid being spotted. “No, no!” She opened the text message app and grimaced. Her response sat unsent.

“Got caught up and didn’t send your reply?” His relief showed in his grin. That he picked up on what happened so quickly was both embarrassing and pleasing. Her face was going pink again. Time for a distraction.

She shoved the bakery bag at him. “C-croissant?”

He blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but went along with it. Thankfully. His delight was clear when he opened the bag.

“Croissants are my favorite,” he sighed.

“You say that about all of our pastries, Adrien,” she parroted.

“Yeah, well, I mean it this time.” He mocked her in kind as he dug one out. He looked at it, and then looked at her, and she could see the question brewing.

“I’m actually not all that hun-mmpff!” Marinette glared and growled through a mouthful of croissant. Adrien just smiled cheerfully and pulled out the second.

“We should really get to class, you know.”

-

They got to class. And the class after that. And the class after that. Marinette couldn’t say what the lessons had been. She remembered his gold-spun hair beside her. The fidgety edits she made to a design that just wouldn’t come together. Three other designs she flipped to when sudden, but ultimately brief, inspiration hit. His thigh pressing against hers. She always wondered if he did that on purpose. She supposed she was about to find out.

Suddenly, the lunch bell was upon them.

“Lunch at the bakery? Just wait ‘til you hear what the tweebs did last night! They’re on lockdown for the foreseeable future.” Alya looked at her expectantly until she went cross eyed. She pulled her glasses off and squinted at them.

“O-oh, uh-” No, no, no! Of all days for Alya to not attempt the matchmaking! On second thought, she was glad for the lack of expectations.

“I’d love to join,” Lila cut in, flicking her hair over her shoulder, “but Mom got reservations for that new five-star by the embassy.”

How nice of Lila to take herself out of the way so neatly.

“Nice! You’ll have to tell us all about how fancy it is.” Alya squinted at her while she cleaned the lenses with her shirt. Ugh. Marinette refrained from rolling her eyes, barely.

Lila’s smug smile dropped when Adrien popped up behind Marinette. “Actually, Alya, Marinette and I are going to find somewhere to study for that maths test that’s tomorrow.”

She could kiss him for that.

Alya squinted at her glasses again before putting them back on. “Oh! Nino and I’ll go with you, then.”

Lila looked like she wanted to jump in, too, Marinette could tell, but she couldn’t when she supposedly had a lunch date already.

“No offense, Al, but we want to actually study. Not that nauseating couple thing that you and Nino do when you’re only pretending to study.” He grinned and winked.

Marinette decided to help him out with some gagging noises, smile hidden behind a polite hand.

Alya huffed good-naturedly and flapped her hand at them. “Fine, fine, you two go be boring and study. But I’ll remember that comment when you get a girl, Agreste, because I know Mr. Heart Eyes is going to be ten times worse.”

Alya went off to find Nino and Lila went off to do...whatever Lila did. Marinette gave Adrien a half-smile as he shuffled her out of school, still mostly trapped in her own thoughts.

That squiggly feeling was back in the pit of her stomach. Like a tiny venomous snake writhing around, and she was just waiting for it to bite. Thanks, Alya! Why did she think she could do this? Adrien’s one of her best friends! Surely if he wanted more, he would have said so by now. He’s never shown interest in anyone outside of Kagami (briefly) and Ladybug and offhandedly mentioning that Luka’s cute (though no one else knew about that, he’d sworn her to secrecy).

Again, he broke through her cloud of doubts.

“That was awfully accommodating of Lila to remove herself from our plans like that.”

She looked up at him and found a strained smile. Argh! Get it together, Marinette! You know he’s picking up on your weirdness and thinking it’s his fault!

Ugh. Her inner voice sounded like Tikki. Right, as usual.

“I had that exact thought! It’s got to be the single nicest thing she’s ever done for me.” His nervousness faded into a real laugh, and then they were back to normal. She hardly noticed the walk to the cafe while they giggled and teased. He held the door open and she blushed pink as she ducked inside. The line to order wasn’t too long, but Marinette was nervous again by the time they reached the front. She managed to give her order, but stuttered her protest when Adrien swooped in to pay for her.

They were about to sit down when Marinette’s hands reached for her backpack and didn’t find it. She had her purse (and thus, Tikki), thank Kwamis, but everything else...

“I left my backpack at school!” Her hands went to her head and her whole face scrunched up. Adrien shuffled the strap of his bag when she looked up at him. “I have to go back to school and get it! Oh, but by the time I do and come back here, there’ll barely be time to eat, and, and, then we won’t be able to talk and I’ll have to sit on this for days because you don’t always get free time and it just be my luck to not see you for a week after this, and you can’t just say this kind of thing over text, well you can but that doesn’t mean you should, and -are you okay? You’re shuffling your bag around an awful lot; are your shoulders hurti…”

Marinette cut off and stared at the pink backpack strap that wrapped around Adrien’s shoulder. She huffed. “You could have said something. Instead of letting me panic.”

“It was cute.” He gave her a fond smile. “You’re cute.”

Her legs gave out. Good thing she was already in the process of sitting down; she landed in her chair instead of the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, and kept going. “I meant to tell you earlier: I like your dress! Is-is it one of yours?”

Her already pink cheeks were turning red, she just knew it. She’d be as red as her suit, soon. This boy was trying to kill her. “T-thanks! It’s a thrift buy; I, um just changed it up a bit.”

“Oh! An upcycle!” He set their backpacks down and took his seat much more gracefully than she had. But, then, he’s a model.

“Ah, well, technically an upcycle is where you take one thing and turn it into something totally different. What I did is considered an alteration.”

He chuckled. She was so lucky, to be someone he could laugh freely with. “I see. Regardless ...you make it beautiful.”

She stared into his eyes, caught by them. Bright and clear and honest. The way affection crinkled the corners of them. She knew those would be his wrinkles, when he gets them. Laugh lines and love crinkles, like her parents.

It was the perfect moment to speak, she knew. If only she could bring herself to do it. Why couldn’t she? He’d complimented her confidence outfit, carried her bag here, paid for her lunch, said she was cute. And it...he said she made it beautiful. But the way he said it. The way he said it, he sounded like he meant she was beautiful. She just needed to open her mouth, and say-

“I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widened, and her face exploded in color. She could see his doing the same. Her usual reflex reaction rose up, take it back, take it back, she could still fix this rebutted with no, this was the whole point of lunch, to confess, see if he was interested to be countered by he hasn’t said anything yet, oh, what have I done.

“I-I didn’t- I mean I did- love is such a-”

He cut off her panicked babble. “You’re in love with me?”

His tone said he didn’t quite believe it, but the look on his face added that he dared to hope anyway. He was looking down at her (even sitting, their height difference was..much) and he had this softness to his eyes that she didn’t see him use with anyone else. It reminded her of Chat sitting with her, gently telling her that her feelings weren’t going to destroy hers and Adrien’s friendship, building her courage.

She couldn’t do anything other than give him the truth.

“Have been for awhile.” The effect her words had was immediate. All that hope and, dare she say it, longing turned into something much brighter, something beautiful and gentle.

“Me too.”

When Marinette looked back at this moment, far into the future, she’d recognize it for what it was: undeniable proof that she was going to marry this man someday. All she could think while in the moment, however, was she clearly spent way too much time with Chat Noir and she’s going to kill that cat bastard.

“You’re in love with yourself, too?”

The words came out of her mouth, and she was mortified. She’d done it. She’d confessed to her years old crush. He actually accepted her feelings. They did the sappy staring in the eyes thing. And then she ruined the moment. Chat’d done this to her so many times; she couldn’t believe she was picking up the worst aspects of his humor.

A muffled chuckle redirected her attention back to Adrien. Hand over his mouth, he tried to contain himself, but it was a battle already lost. A petulant pout from her, and that was all it took for him to give himself over to the laughter. He stopped trying to hide his smile. His eyes scrunched closed. He slowly leaned towards the chair next to him, curling in on himself, using the table as a crutch, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

His joy rang through her. It warmed her toes and eased her stomach, stopped her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

He was catching his breath when the server brought their food and took their number. Marinette set the plates on her side with a small “thank you”.

“I’m going to kill my boyfriend,” she grumbled. “That was all his fault.”

Adrien, back in a sitting position, tilted his head in curiosity. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Oh! Ah..I do. Um. Gosh, I’m doing this all wrong.” Marinette stared resolutely at her food. “It’s, um. It’s new. I haven’t even told Alya yet. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone for a while. Except you.”

She peeked at him through her fringe. Adrien didn’t seem upset. For all the world, it looked like he was patiently hearing her out. But it wasn’t always easy to read through his Model Face. She twisted her fingers together.

“We.. He.. Well, he’s in love with two people. And, and I’m in love with two people. So we decided to try polyamory.” And that was the rest of it. Everything that had her knots all day. She hoped he would understand.

A flutter of movement, his hands moved into her peripheral vision. “Can I have your hands before you start digging your nails in?”

She swallowed, and carefully looked no further than her hands as they moved to meet his. He started rubbing slow circles on contact.

“Let me make sure that I have this right. Are you asking me out?”

“Yes.”

“You have a boyfriend? And he’s okay with you dating another person?”

She glanced at his expression and was caught by it. It was warm, and encouraging. “Yes.”

His hands squeezed hers. “Ah, in the interest of full disclosure...I have a partner, too.”

“O-oh?”

“I met her online and, well, you can imagine what would happen if the public heard that Adrien Agreste had an online girlfriend.”

Marinette cringed sympathetically. “That’d be a nightmare. You have a lot of crazy fangirls.” She paused for a moment and then ventured, “I can’t imagine Gabriel would approve, either.”

“Ha. No. Which means it has to stay secret for awhile.” Adrien shook his head, as if it would get rid of the sour thoughts. “But! We, well, exactly like you two. We’re both in love with two people and I couldn’t make myself choose. I wanted both of you.”

She stared at him, pink painted across her cheeks and lips parted slightly. “Me?”

“You.” His smile was back. “I’ve been working to get the courage to ask you out. Tried half a dozen times or so.

“What I’m trying to say, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, is that I’d love to go on a date with you.”

[starker-stories]

My Virgin (Revisited), Chapter 3 - The Messages Series

This chapter on AO3

By @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​​

All links are to AO3. As everyone knows by now, starker-stories blew up his starkerstories blog, losing everything that was below a readmore on tumblr-full-text posts. So the safest place for fic is AO3. You don’t need to be a creator to have an AO3 account. You can have one solely as a reader. But to read anything at all in this series, you can just be an anonymous reader and/or commenter.

The entire Messages Series.  All links are to AO3.

Messages Unsent  (complete & posted)

Nothing More Than A Machine  (complete & posted)

Tomorrow  (complete & posted)

My Virgin (Revisited)  (complete & posted)

The Cold  (completely written) posts every Thursday  

Untitled Book 6  ( in progress )

Untitled Book 7  ( in progress )

Tags: Sexual Roleplay, Virginity Kink, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Kissing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, A teeny weeny bit of plot for the next book hinted at, Happy Ending, Happy Sex

Chapter 3: ButfortherecordIamnotavirgin

Tony circled one arm around Peter’s waist, holding him steady as he slid the zipper of his jeans down. He cupped Peter’s ass and lifted him slightly. “Hold with your arms, Pete. Like when I carried you here.” Peter held his neck firmly, Tony cupped the boy’s ass and his hands worked up to the waistband of his jeans and his underwear. He slid his hands between fabric and skin. As his hands moved lower, to cup Peter’s ass again, they took his clothes with them, revealing more as Tony’s hands moved all the way down to the top of his thighs.

“Lift higher, baby,” Tony whispered against Peter’s neck. When he raised himself, Tony pushed Peter’s jeans down in the front. He settled his hand low on Peter’s stomach. Pulling his lips away from the warmth of Peter’s neck, he looked at the boy and smiled. “Gotta help me from here. You’re the graceful one with the long beautiful legs.”

Oh god, this was incredible. And having an unexpected effect — slow and gentle meant Peter’s senses were dialing up (when the sex was hard and fast always dialed them down, out of self-preservation.) It hadn’t happened very often since their earliest days together, but Christ it was happening now.

And that might not be a good thing. Pushing Tony away a bit helped. At least a little. Feigning the need for distance to get himself undressed, he wriggled his body free enough to shed belt, jeans and boxers all in one motion. Not quickly, though, he needed time to breathe, trying to ground himself a little. Turning his back a bit to Tony he tried to regain a little composure.

“So, for the record? Not a virgin. I’ve done it to other guys before. Just not… and I am not saying that I was holding out for you!” Peter argued. “Because that would have been too optimistic, too far-fetched. I never really thought that we would… so I wasn’t really holding out for… except…”

He turned his head to look at Tony in surprise.

“Except I think I was.”

He had to let go of his pants suddenly because he had to hide behind his hands again. He was grimacing and blushing and grinning at the absurdity of it all at the same time.

“I think I was,” he whispered as quietly as he could. Maybe, if he whispered, his pride wouldn’t hear it. He reached for Tony and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“I think I was saving it for you.

“ButfortherecordIamnotavirgin,” he said quickly as he lay on his back. One last, final salute to his injured pride.

Tony looked at Peter, watching him catch his breath, listening to his protests of his non-virginity.

“You‘re not a virgin.” Tony struggled to keep his lips from quirking up. "You’ve just never ‘done that one thing’. And it’s all my ego thinking that you’re a virgin, despite the fact that you very much are. Toys don’t count. Giving head doesn’t count either. Nor does fucking another boy. Because this…” Tony let one hand slide down Peter’s side until he was caressing the inside of his thigh, moving up to the crease of his ass. Going no further. “…isn’t something you’re in control of. No, I don’t mean that I’m in control, either. Your body is in control. And the rest of you? Not having that control? Baby, this is an entirely different thing than any of those other things you’ve done to proclaim your non-virginity.

“You had no idea who you were holding out for to do ‘that one thing’. You never thought. But you did think. You knew. You always knew exactly who you were holding out for. You knew exactly who you wanted to be the ‘first’. And only. Because you’ve known me long enough to know that I would never share you. But you held out even knowing that. My virgin. Because that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

Peter’s eyes went wide.

“…oh…” he said, breathless.

“That’s… that’s different. You could call me your… yes.” He closed his eyes again. He would never say it out loud, of course. Coming from his own mouth it sounded wrong. But coming out of Tony’s mouth? It sounded incredible.

He grinned from ear to ear. Even with his eyes closed, he wanted to duck his head.

“All right then,” he said wrapping his hands around Tony’s neck. He tried to take a steadying breath, failed, and tried again. The third time it worked and, when he felt calmer, he leaned up to whisper in his lover’s ear. “If I am your… your virgin… what are you going to do with me?”

Tony’s hum of assent to Peter’s calling himself his virgin had more than a little self-satisfied smugness about it. Oh but then he was presented with a much more pleasant question. What was he going to do with Peter?

“Touch you.” Tony ran his hand lightly down Peter’s arm. Firmly back up it. His fingers traced the line of his collarbone. He ran his hand flatly, sliding between them, over Peter’s chest, his thumb catching over Peter’s nipple, circling it. He caressed down to Peter’s thigh, finding his way to the inside of it again. He spread the boy’s legs further apart, settling between them.

“Kiss you.” He put a light kiss on Peter’s lips. “Because I don’t think I will ever get enough of kissing you.” He kept his next kiss brief, but passionate.

“And watch…” The hand on Peter’s thigh moved up, his touch became more solid. He raised his leg to bend at the knee. Tony paused, letting his fingers explore the line between thigh and swell of the boy’s ass. But this time he didn’t stop there. He slid his hands beneath Peter’s ass, curling his fingers to ease his cheeks apart and brush against the tender skin there. “…Watch you… unfold in my hands.” He bent and held himself above Peter’s body.

Another kiss. Words whispered against soft lips. “I want to find everything that makes you moan. I want to find everything that makes you want. Everything that makes you need.”

“But what I need most is you, Tony,” Peter moaned, kissing back hard. For a moment his mind strayed back to those long, lonely weeks when he missed the man, halfway around the world. Missed him, feeling achy and forgotten. But he didn’t want to think about that now.

“What I wanted most,” he said breathlessly, in-between kisses, “Is for you to look at me like a man, someone old enough to be your lover. To take me to bed. To let me stay there.” It wasn’t easy, making this particular point understood, but Peter found that when he ran out of words he could just kiss Tony again. (Tony liked it when he took over the kissing.) “And the truth is…” Another kiss. “That when I set out to convince you to take me to your bedroom? I did not care what you wanted to do to me next. Whatever kind of sex you wanted, whatever you decided that was, that’s what I wanted too. I just wanted to be with you.”

“You have me, Peter. Every part of me has your name etched into it. I promise you… promise you… that I won’t let anything come between us now that we’re finally together.” He kissed Peter again and moved his hand, settling it on the boy’s thigh, feeling that dichotomous touch of soft skin and firm muscle beneath it.

“That’s why I waited, Pete. I wanted you so much. You were a beautiful boy. But a boy. I didn’t want someone with a teenage crush in my bed. Someone who looked at me… without being able to see me. I didn’t want a boy in my bed, I wanted a young man.” Tony smiled softly. “Part of the deciding factor? When you stopped calling me Mr. Stark and always called me Tony. I can’t be your hero to worship. Only to fight alongside of. That you saved yourself for… that you wanted it to be me?” he shook his head slightly in disbelief.

“I do have my favorite things to do when we’re together, but I like exploring things with you. I like… being there for the journey. Yeah, I would’ve been… if this hadn’t been part of it? Ah, I sound like such a greedy fuck… but god, Peter… I wanted to take you apart. I wanted to watch you fall to pieces.

“Now that you’re in my bed? Baby, I’m not ever letting you out of it. You’re mine.” His kiss was less tender, much more possessive. “My virgin,” he said when he broke their kiss. “Even if it’s been years, you’ll still be my virgin. No matter what we’re doing in bed… baby… I love you.” Tony closed his eyes and bit his lip before kissing Peter again. “I cherish you,” he whispered his words against Peter’s lips before kissing them there.

“Oh god Tony, I love you so much,” Peter whispered. He didn’t say anything, then, for a long time. He let Tony finish kissing him.

He enjoyed it.

“This is better than that first time, though,” Peter pointed out, when Tony was finished. “Because now I’m not worried about saying “I love you” accidentally.

“And, for the record, even if I hadn’t been madly in love with you? I still wanted it to be you. For about a million different reasons. Being your partner in the lab, and being your partner in the skies of New York? Well, I knew being your partner in bed would be amazing too.

“But I was madly in love with you, that’s why I mostly just spent all my time saying ‘Oh God Tony’ over and over and over.

“But here I am in your bed,” Peter said, pulling his arms away from Tony’s neck, sneaking them under Tony’s arms and moving his hands to Tony’s waist. “I am in love with you, and I’m not afraid to say it, and I want you like crazy, and I’m not afraid to say that either.

“So here we are, and I…” He took Tony by the waist with two firm hands. “I have something to… oh god this sounds stupid but… I have something to give you, too. And only to you.” He pulled Tony closer, pressing their bodies together to make his meaning clear.

“I want you to be the first one.

“I want you to be the only one.”

Tony kissed Peter hard, devouring his words, taking them into himself, letting them chase away any of his lingering fears. Everything was released on a sigh of the boy’s name.

“Peter… you… overwhelm me. When we kissed for the first time? Pete… things that took over a decade with anyone else… One kiss, baby… you wrecked me. You could only say ‘oh god Tony’ and I couldn’t shut up. Not just my usual endless talking… everything spilled out. Baby, things… I didn’t even know…

“Peter… You’re my first one. My only one.”

Peter moaned and sighed and wrapped Tony tightly in his arms. Then he remembered that his lover could be held too tightly and loosened his hold. A bit. But for a few silent moments he held, keeping his lover close.

When Peter finally let him go, he kissed him again, more tenderly. “You wanted me to stay touching you. And when I moved away, I missed you.” Tony reached underneath the usual extra pillow where he kept the lube, then he gently rolled them both on their sides, face to face. “I can touch you better,” he said smiling. He put the bottle within close reach. Then he ran his hand up Peter’s back. “I think you still like it better we’re touching more. You feel beautiful. You make my fingers hungry for your skin.” His hand moved down to cup Peter’s ass before he moved down to his thigh. Tony raised Peter’s leg over his, crooking it over his hip.

“Baby, I told you I want the everything of you. I meant everything. In bed and out. I want you in every part of my life. Though some parts are more…” He smiled and kissed Peter’s cheek. Kissed his jaw. Kissed his neck. “…currently relevant,” he said, dragging his open mouth along Peter’s neck. “God, I’d almost forgotten how your skin tastes.” As he kissed and nibbled at the boy’s neck, his hand worked its way up the inside of Peter’s thigh, fingers moving across where the position spread him wider, running from the base of his spine to his balls, only lightly brushing across his opening.

He took his time. He didn’t care if he missed whatever meeting he had in the morning. He didn’t care if Peter missed every one of his classes the next day. Tony wasn’t going to hurry. Touching… he missed that.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 3: Darkness in Your Past

Hello everyone I’m still like. WAY sick. And I will be performing our next session entirely through texting and enthusiastic mime. But I can probably type, even if I’m hacking and wheezing?

In this session: oh no, backstory!

The party finishes their long rest at the bandit camp, universally antsy to get going and prickly with each other after certain ethical disagreements.

As the bandits warned us, the road turns out to be full of traps, and 3/4 of us roll terrible, awful perception checks. Clem, comically, immediately falls into a hole. It’s less comic when we realize there’s sharp spikes at the bottom of that there pit trap, but Valeria Channels Divinity and summons the Chains of Rack, catching Clem before she can tumble into the stabbity stabs. WHOOPSIE.

Traveling onward, we find a huge tree has crashed down across the path. We are all experienced players and thus suspicious bastards, and Shoshana rolls a good enough Nature check to suddenly have a childhood memory. There was once a local woodsman that she and her best friend used to hang around, a lumberjacky fellow and hunter named Mordecai. A good-natured fellow, he would let the local children tag along and show them lots of tips and tricks about the woods. Using the remnants of that remembered knowledge, Shoshana picks up on a few wood shavings and out-of-place bits. This thing has been tampered with.

“Everybody stand back,” she says, “I’m gonna poke it.”

“Wait, I have a crossb-” Gral begins, but Shoshana slaps it with a Mage Hand, which is only a 30 foot range. Two crossbow bolts shoot out of where the log has been hollowed out and the bark has been thinned to a sheet, and one sticks right into somebody’s boob. Good job, folks.

Going forward seems to be all well and good until, suddenly, someone notices we can’t hear Valeria, who’s guarding the back. We turn around and surpriiiise, a wild beast-man is hanging out of a tree and has her by a garrotte! There is a brief debate about whether attempting to free her by swinging an enormous greatsword is really the best?? idea??????? but Valeria puts an end to the discussion by stabbing the guy herself.

We complain at the DM about all the traps, and then get distracted, because OOH, A RAVINE.

Shoshana goes quiet at the familiar sight, but there’s something worrying here. There’s a beast-man of the Hunt and his wolf on watch, but there are dead people and wolves scattered over the blood-stained ground. A clutch Silence spell from Gral allows us to overcome the sentries with no alarm raised; Clem bisects the wolf with Extreme (and mildly panicked) Prejudice. 

Inspecting the scattered corpses, they seem to have been pierced by something long and thin - like arrow wounds, except there are no arrows to be seen.

We cautiously move forward, Gral sneakily scouting ahead and messaging back to the clanky folks what’s up. Shoshana tries to sneak, but is too distracted looking at the Hunt-people corpses for - someone recognizable, maybe? - and trips over a dead wolf. CLANG CRASH WHAM, roll for initiative, folks!

We slash our way through a couple of toughs and their wolves, Lookin’ Cool and Kickin’ Butt, but...this is like, two guys. What happened to the terrifying force that had the bandit crew cowering in fear? Why are most of them gone, or dead on the ground with the same arrowless arrow wounds?

Maybe the answer is through that door.

What Shoshana remembers as a bit of a hollow in the wall of the ravine - enough shelter to get a quick snatch of rest, maybe - has been covered over with a crude ceiling and a curtained hide door. No sounds are coming from inside, so we cautiously make our way in. 

It’s not much. Some rough skins and blankets to sleep on, a bag hanging on the wall, and a metal chest that we determine is booby-trapped. And loose scraps of paper, scattered across the floor. Shoshana bends down to pick one up, and reads it.

The gasp is audible. She stares at it, struck, as her player reads the text sent to her by the DM. The others begin to investigate the room as she stands there, absolutely floored - and then snatches for the next piece of paper, like lightning. And then the next, and the next, on her knees scrabbling for them, reading each one with mounting frenzy. She’s muttering to herself - “Why would she-? No, how-? The whole time?! And she NEVER??? How could she-”

Valeria cautiously picks up one of the cast-aside notes, reads it, and then caaarefully places it back on the floor, because Hoo Boy This Is Some Personal Stuff, Let’s Give Her Some Space. They seem to be unsent, half-finished letters, addressed to Shoshana. 

While spooky lady has a breakdown, Clem ably does a bit of medicine for Gral and Valeria to get everyone in fighting shape for whatever comes next. 

Shoshana collects all the letters, and somberly takes the pressed flowers Valeria found on the rudimentary table. Elsewhere in the room we find a key to the big chest, but still stand to the side when we release it - good, because an unsteady Mage Hand isn’t enough to hold the trap wire properly taut. Clem insisted we open the chest last thing before we leave, for fear that the roof would cave in, but a big scythe just swings out of the wall and slices the air where we all Decided Not To Be Standing. We find a bit of money, a Ring of Jumping, Ser Balderich’s sword, and a magic horn that is only heard by the person you choose to hear it.

The horn is apportioned to Shoshana, being the squishiest and the most likely to get targeted by these creeps. Shoshana, emotionally a bit frazzled, accepts it bemusedly. “Why?” she inquires dully. “I mean, it’s not like you’re exactly invested in my survival, past the next hour or two.”

Gral immediately protests. “I gave my word I would protect you, as part of my promise to bring you to Duke Shieldeater’s service. I would not betray that.” 

Valeria nods enthusiastically. Shoshana blinks and then gives the universal “get a load of this guy” gesture to Clem. 

Gral continues. “If truth must be known, I...am not entirely here on the Duke’s orders. I serve him, but it was my own decision to come find you. I strongly believe we Orcs need better relations with the local civilians. And I have my own aims, as well.” Cryptic behind his mask, he does not elaborate and continues back out into the ravine. 

Up ahead is the part that Shoshana knows is waiting for her. A thick blanket of branches and hanging foliage cast a section of the ravine into deep darkness - a canopy impenetrable to light but not, as she remembers, to the falling, flailing body of a young woman.

It’s distantly terrifying that seeing it again feels so much like coming home. A voice curls out of the ravine, welcoming her back at last. It’s impossible for her to tell whether the others can hear it.

“Ser Balderich is in there. The bandits said they were keeping him in the dark place, and...that’s where...”

Valeria firmly places her hand on Shoshana’s shoulder, reaching out in empathy to steady a comrade in a time of clear emotional distress. Shoshana feels a gauntleted hand land on her shoulder, the executioner’s cue to go face her death with dignity. They go forth, into the darkness.

...

So, it’s DARK in there. Valeria lights up the Rune Beetle. It’s still dark, supernaturally so, heavy and sick-tasting in the air. Even those in the party with Darkvision are limited, and they move ahead slowly and carefully. Luckily, Ser Balderich hears them coming, and starts shouting at the FIENDS! who are BACK FOR MORE, ARE YOU? and the party is able to find the pit he has been thrown into, heavy wooden bars embedded over the top.

Seeing the glint of Valeria’s silver scales in the dim light of the beetle, Ser Balderich’s shouting stops short. “...Marius?” he asks, disbelieving. “You survived? D-did any of the others-?”

Valeria recognizes the name of Kyr Marius, a mentor of hers at the monastery where she trained. Another silver dragonborn of the order, with years of combat experience. “I’m not Marius,” she lets him down, “But we’re here to get you out!” 

Ser Balderich, beaten and bruised and with at least one broken arm, is still with-it enough to notice that a young female voice does not sound like his presumably middle aged male friend. But he makes a quick recovery: “Oh! Uh, well, Kyr, it is an honor! But beware, the fiends are not far-”

Yeah, they’ve definitely noticed we’re here. A couple of worgs prowl out of the darkness as Valeria and Clem try to pry the bars off the top of the pit and haul Ser Balderich out. With Faerie Fire, Gral manages to illuminate one of the worgs and a mysterious cloaked figure, who simply gestures and we all take 3 Taint. What the what? It’s on.

We have a narrow battle - fleeing seems like the only option at one point, as several of us are boxed into a Hunger of Hadar spell by flanking wargs, but we persevere. In a moment of crisis, Shoshana pulls strength from the darkness and takes Taint in exchange for temporary HP. Finally, Clem and the wounded Ser Balderich break through to the cloaked figure.  As Clem’s greatsword pierces the flowing cloak, it collapses to the floor, empty. The figure’s taunting voice drifts out to us one last time, looking forward to the next time we meet. You can try to escape the Hunt, just like your little friend, but this is where you belong in the end...

Limping forward, we investigate the cavern behind where his empty cloak fell. Well, not the part that spirals off forever into the darkness. We’re not that stupid. But there’s a little room, off to the side, and we stop short seeing it. There’s a bloody altar, decorated with animal skulls, facing a hanging painting on an animal skin.

The crude tapestry depicts a figure wearing an antlered helm, tearing his way out of where he is bound by tree roots jutting from the ground. Three less-detailed figures behind him seem to be similarly bound. The edges of the canvas are decorated with grotesque, gory scenes of animals and hunters slaying their prey.

Oh, right. The DM notes he forgot to add the horror part of the scene. We look to the other side of the room and see a human corpse, nailed up on the wall. The word “PREY” has been carved deeply into his chest.

It’s Mordecai.

Shoshana is already so emotionally drained, barely able to register her dull rage at these grotesque atrocities here in HER darkness. She raises her hands, but Ser Balderich speaks up, saying Ser Quentin Morozov, his friend the Cursebreaker Knight, may have use of the tapestry. It might help him in his studies. Meanwhile, Valeria is gently pulling the body off the wall, looking for any sign of the man’s religion and finding not a symbol of the Obereon pantheon but a small pendant with two faces - Baba and Gramps, kindly spirits still respected by some of the more rural woodsfolk. Valeria’s big enough to carry the body, covering the carved words with her cloak and promising him a proper burial.

Shoshana lets them, dully watching. She can feel something magic within the altar, but the only thought she has left about today is the general concept of NO. She raises her hands and a wave of fire overtakes the altar. As it burns, the oppressive feeling of the darkness lessens. It doesn’t disappear, but something vital to this place has been destroyed.

A bit dazed, the party staggers out into the light, Valeria carrying the hunter’s body and Clem supporting a weakened but determined Ser Balderich. Wanting to avoid whatever hunting party was sent out after the escaping huntress, they make it back to the abandoned bandit camp before collapsing to regroup.

Valeria and Ser Balderich get to talking, Valeria asking how Ser Balderich knows her old mentor Kyr Marius. Did Ser Balderich ever speak to anyone who knows what happened at the Crusade?

Knows what happened? Pssh, Ser Balderich was THERE. Though it’s clearly a painful memory, Ser Balderich explains what happened to the members of Valeria’s order:

The Crusade was closing in, about a day’s hard travel from Valdsheart, the Duke’s capital city - the center of the Curse. The Order of the Rose has made it to the old summer palace - the roses were in bloom, the gardens were beautiful, still immaculately maintained by automated Unseen Servants that had continued working even as the city had been abandoned.

The commanders of the various knightly orders gathered together at the Rebel’s Temple. (A History check lets us know that this was the temple that Karena, the leader of the rebellion against Keva and the first Duchess of Valdia, had established to ask the blessing of the gods over the new nation.

If anyone ever had doubts the Curse was intelligent, they were ended by the way it waited until the knights were separated from their commanders. When the attack started, the gardens sprang to life. We were attacked by thorns and deadly spores. Ser Balderich took his horse and rode for the temple, while the knights held the line against the tide. The temple was holy ground - it should have been well-warded. Arriving there, he saw the windows stained with blood - the place was overrun. There were two groups of survivors still fighting: Archcleric Rudolf Klemsk and his knights of Rack fled one way, while the Peacock Knight (founder of the Knights Radiant) held the line alone. There were waves and waves of creatures, all sorts.

(Gral: Ser Balderich, please describe these creatures. DM: Absolutely not, it’s like midnight.)

Ser Balderich, unable to help, fled back to the palace to help the forces there. It was totally overrun. He hopes some got out, but was unable to get close enough to see. The aftermath? Well. Archcleric Klemsk got out, but Something happened there - afterward, he and his followers became the frightening Knights Penitent who violently hunt down all corruption and impiety. He assumes the Peacock Knight was overwhelmed, but he has been sighted since.

...I’m sorry.

Ser Balderich tells us: If anyone is going to solve this, it won’t be a marching army. It will be someone like my friend Quentin, and his Cursebreakers, or the madmen at Sturmhearst. We Beggar Knights will stand watch, and ensure as many people possible live to see the day the Curse ends, if that day ever comes.

We all mull that story, and then begin to get up to go. A quick discussion of options comes to this: we’ll go back to Ovruch and drop Ser Balderich off there, so he can recover and protect the town. In the morning, we’ll travel to the town of Holzog to bring the tapestry to Ser Quentin - perhaps he will be interested in our stories, as well. Gral certainly wants to discuss something with the Cursebreaker.

As everybody’s putting on their backpacks and stuff, Shoshana interjects, confused. Um...aren’t you guys...forgetting something?

Ser Balderich considers. “...yes.” He comes over to her, and she closes her eyes, readying for it.

“...I did not thank you, for rescuing me. You have my gratitude.”

N-no, you guys, don’t you need to...? Y’know? Take care of me, now that the Hunt and the bandits are dealt with?

...Oh.

Ser Balderich scoffs, compassionately. “Shoshana, I saw you reject the power that altar could have given you.” (Player: wait what? DM: yeah, there was a magic item in there”) “You were given your abilities, and what did you do with them? You took care of cats. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be.”

Valeria is nodding. Gral is nodding. Even Clem is nodding. Shoshana’s brain just about fails to compute; you can see the blue screen behind her eyes. We pack up, find a quiet spot in the woods to bury poor Mordecai the woodsman, and make our way back to Shoshana’s place to crash.

---

We roll against the Taint we acquired in the Hunt’s territory. Gral and Clem fully save. Valeria takes a minor corruption. Shoshana is offered a deal by the DM and takes it, gaining a minor corruption as well.

We each draw a card for the next session: The Hunter, The Knight, The Madness, and The Heretic.