I'm trying to write for @stargazingfangirl18 s birthday celebration!!
A Curtis Everett fic, they're friends to lovers and an emotionally constipated couple :P (and it's set on the Snowpiercer)
did I accidentally combine WAY too many prompts that excited me? yes. Was it because I knew I'd probably only have time to write only one? very much so.
did I have to shave off like 3 other things from my OG idea to keep it at word limit and not drive myself insane with my ambition? yes, holy shit yes.
Warning: banditry, murder, death, trauma, kidnap, fear, and many dark elements.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Curtis Everett
Summary: you are captured by bandits while employed for the much hated duchess, finding yourself in the middle of a heated plot for revenge.
Note: Another installment of my medieval AU. Special shoutout to @stargazingwriter18
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
“Where to?” Giles asks as you approach.
“Mister Clement’s. The Duchess sends for her velvet cape.” You answer as you approach the carriage.
“Ah, a fine day for a ride. Pity she won’t venture off herself. It might lighten her spirit.”
Your silence says more than any response could. The driver chuckles and opens the door. He pulls down the stool even as you protest it isn’t needed. He helps you inside by your elbow and you thank him.
“Be calm, lady, and I will have us to Mr. Clement’s by midday.” He avows.
“As you will have us. Take the road safety, is all I would bid, sir.” You settle into the bench and stack your hands in your lap.
The Lady Duchess, Diana Sombrette, would speak to Giles in a bolder tone, with impatience in her teeth. As she does all who do her bidding and even those who do not. She has little patience or pity for those who cannot meet her measure.
You cannot resent your place very much. It keeps you a palette to sleep and food in your belly. As meagre as both may be, they are preferable to none. You also cannot gripe for a task outside the castle walls, as oppressive as they are.
Giles takes his seat at the front of the carriage and puts the horses to trot. You rock with the motion of the axle. Mister Clement is not much more amiable than the Duchess. You do not relish even a brief rapport with the tailor.
The driver whistles and the willowy tune puts you at ease. You lean over to see past the curtains to the rows of trees and a cluster of brush beyond. The shadows of creatures unknown pass between the trunks and crack twigs and fallen branches beneath their paws.
The forests are a mysterious place. Treacherous. The noble claim right to them as their hunting and game grounds, while other less regarded figures trespass, hidden in caves and ravines as they plot against the proclaimed keepers. You shiver and try not to think of those tales, instead catching the white tail of a hare as it retreats from the clatter of the carriage.
You laze in the soft canter of the horses, barely noticing as they slow. It’s only as the uneven melody of the driver’s lips quiets that you break from your trance. You sit up as the rustle of branches and leaves fills the silence Giles grunts.
“What is the meaning of–”
Thunk! Something hits the side of the carriage and you wince as you notice the piercing point lodged through the upper corner. The arrow head stares you down as you clutch your hands over your heart. It cannot be!
“We have no conflict with you, sir,” a voice proclaims. “But with the lady within.”
“The lady… no, no, yer mistaken,” Giles insists.
“Are we? Is that not the duchess’ sigil upon those wheels? Hm? Painted by those hands she enslaves for her selfish needs.” The voice accuses again.
“They are, but the lady is back at the castle.” Giles insists.
“So you steer an empty carriage? How ridiculous.”
“I am on the duchess’ mission. I needn’t explain to you lot of scoundrels–”
Another startling thump lurches the carriage. The blade of a knife pokes through the other side of the wall. You gulp.
“We don’t wan’ harm you, fellow. You are only as we are. Crushed beneath the greed of that vile duchess.” The man continues. “We only ask that you step down and surrender your cargo.”
“I cannot do that–”
“We would not like to hurt you, but will if needed.” The voice sinks in warning. “We permit you one last chance.”
“I am done with you vermin!” Giles sneers and the reins snap. The horses jolt forward and the carriage bounces. The wheels turn one spin before they catch and something cracks. You fly from the bench and hit the parallel one before heaping onto the floor.
Giles cries out as you hear his body hit the dirt. You heave out a tight breath and gasp. Your body is paralysed as you struggle to breathe through the pain in your ribs.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” a grittier voice cuts through the chaos without and you hear a terrible slice and groan.
Footsteps clamour around the carriage as you rock and fight to sit up. When you find the strength to, the door opens from the other side. You cry out and kick your heels down, pushing yourself back. The door behind you swings out and you’re seized, hauled out into the open air.
“We’ve got her!” The men proclaim.
There’s a cheer from the dozen other bodies closing in on you. Your eyes flit back and forth as panic swirls in your vision. Your gaze clings to the body on the ground. Poor Giles is face down, a puddle of blood spreading through the dirt. Your stomach drops and your legs buckle.
Several of the men part to let through a man in a wool cap and tattered grey clothing. He holds an axe as he walks with unbreakable pride in his shoulders. Your tremble as the edge of the tool glistens scarlet.
He stares you down as you wilt and wriggle against the two men clinging to your arms. He sighs and blinks slowly. He keeps his eyes closed.
“It is not her.” He hisses.
“It has to be! She was within. There is no other–”
“The driver was honest.” The man opens his eyes, irises icy blue. “I know the duchess. And she would never wear an apron of the sort.” He grips his hips. “She must suspect our plot.”
The men exchange looks and grumble.
“What do we do?” Another asks; the one who spoke to Giles earlier. “Let her go?”
“No. We cannot. It would only give the duchess more suspicion.” The man in the grey wool, the one you assume to be their leader, grits. “We keep her. Use her. She will know the duchess and her life. Perhaps she will afford us our next chance.”
“Hm, suppose that makes sense.” The other man responds thoughtfully.
“No one…” the leader raises his finger and comes forward. “Is to touch her.” He growls as he approaches you and waves off the men beside you. “I will get the information we need.”
🪓
The man walks you between the trees on a short length of rope. One end is wound around your wrists, the other in his grip as he tugs you along. The other men walk in pairs, whispering, watching the trees as they make cautious progress.
You keep your head down and stare at your thumbs. Your skirt catches on thorns and brambles and your soft-soled shoes slip on roots and moss. Several times the man yanks you as you slow to avoid falling.
He leads you down a steep ridged decline and at the bottom, you find a sight that strikes you. Tents set up on the flat of the ravine, a few women peeking out from the flaps with feral eyes. One emerges and sheaths a long dagger at her waist.
“Edgar,” she greets the man who did most of the talking back at the carriage. She rushes toward him then slows as she sees you next to the other man. She frowns. “What’s happened?”
“It wasn’t the duchess.” He says grimly as he squeezes the woman’s arm.
“Then…?” The woman prompts.
“We’ll figure it out,” the man at the other end of the rope snips and pulls you forward.
He drags you past the other women as they emerge; a few with children on their hips or behind their skirts. The man tugs you forward and grabs the back of your neck. He forces your head under the tent flap of the structure at the very rear of the settlement.
He points to the ground. “Sit.”
You obey. He gets down on his knees and winds the loose end of the robe around your ankles. You watch him without a word.
“You are the duchess’ sheep.” He accuses as he stands.
You lower your head. His soles scuff the ground. He grabs the waterskin slung around his torso and loosens the top. He drinks and hums. He tightens the tie on it and paces around.
“Maid.” He states.
“Yes.” You murmur.
“Close to her then.” He mulls as he brings his hand up to his chin. You peek up at the movement and find his cold eyes on you. You quickly drop your head again. “She’s lost a driver. Won’t want to lose you too.”
You chew your cheek. You’re not certain for that. The duchess dismissed Talula for bringing the wrong wine and the stable boy for kicking up dirt as she passed.
He walks a small circle, stops, then squats down in front of you. He rests his forearms on his knees.
“Look at me.” He snarls.
You look up as you shiver. “Sir.”
“Tell me everything.”
You scrunch up your nose in confusion.
“Tell me about what the duchess does in a day. Tell me when she pisses, when she eats, when she sleeps. Tell me everything you know.” He reaches to his belt and frees the axe, pointing it at your nose. “Believe me when I tell you, I can smell a lie before it’s told.”
You gulp. “I understand,” you wisp out. “I… I will be honest.”
He turns the axe and presses it to your chest. “Good woman.”
🪓
You sleep on the ground, as you have for nights past. You don’t count them. Knowing won’t help you. You shiver in the corner, wrists and ankles bound so you can only lay in a ball.
You groan as you shift. There is no comfort to be had; not waking, not sleeping. Two times a day, the bonds are loosed so you may go into the trees to relieve yourself. A woman called Ursula watches you with her blade out. Then you are led back. You are fed a handful of nuts and sometimes burnt barley.
There is no use in complaint. You are afraid but there is nothing this man could do or say to assuage that. You told him all you could but he did not seem happy for it; if that is an emotion he would know. Since, he has said little. You haven’t either.
“Curtis,” a whisper comes from without.
That’s his name. You’ve heard a few say it. He sniffs and rolls over on his bedroom. He sits up, axe already in hand. You watch his shadow.
“Ed,” he greets the man through the flap. The soft dwindling dusk pores through the small gap.
“Today. The horsemen ready.”
Curtis grunts.
“There is a feast. The duchess will go. Along with the rest of those heathens.” Edgar explains in a coarse hush.
Curtis nods. “Six men.”
“Six?” Edgar sounds surprised.
“More than enough,” Curtis assures and drops the flap back.
He turns and goes back to his bedroom. He doesn’t lay down. He lights a stub of tallow with the scratch of flint. He pulls out a whetstone and works on the edge of his axe, the shink of his sharpening making you twitch.
“You’ll come too.” He says bluntly. “I’m certain your mistress misses her sheep.”
🪓
A different man holds the rope. You perch at the foot of the trees as you watch the line of men snake through the brush and hide in the ditch at the edge of the beaten road. You’re exhausted, so much so that even your adrenaline can’t keep your head from nodding. The endless coursing of fear has drained you of all strength and hope.
Your eyes droop and your head wobbles until you hear it. A noise so distant it could have been as simple as a bird flapping through the leaves. But then it keeps going. The steady grind of wheels grows closer and closer, pebbles pouncing beneath the wooden frames, dirt mulching louder than it should.
The man next to you tenses. You look down at the ditch. You cannot see the men as they hide beneath a criss cross of overgrown weeds and vines. They are clever. It must be how they surprised Giles before.
And left him dead.
The horses’ hooves thunder nearer and the call of a bird goes up. All at once, you realise the squawk came from the throat of a man. Guards appear first. The duchess must have heeded the previous carriage’s fate. The bandits are methodic in their attack. Their arrows aimed in the gap above halberd or exposed beneath the under arm.
The soldiers wail and fall from their saddles, their horses stampeding forward. That is until they notice the large rocks across the road, arranged there by the attackers. They rear and kick up, neighing in fear.
The bandits hurl up ropes tipped with iron hooks as the carriage comes into sight. Two stand and shoot their arrows that embed in the wood.
The driver panics and rolls off the bench. You know him; his name is Rhys. He stumbles over the side of the carriage as the horses keep running. The bandits tie the ropes to trees and the carriage lurches to a halt entirely. The roof splits from the tension of its bounds. You clutch your damp skirts and stare foggily as the scene plays out.
“Come, your time is now.” The man wrenches you up as the bandits hurry onto the road, checking the men writhing on the ground. If they are not dead, the bandits make sure of it.
There’s a shriek from within the carriage.
“Around, around!” Edgar hollers.
Two of the men hurry around as the door on the opposite side opens, swaying the vehicle. There is another fearful shout. You’ve never heard the duchess so terrified.
The man jerks you down the incline and through the ditch. Diana continues her struggle as she is restrained by Edgar. Curtis stands before her calmly as you’re dragged up onto the road.
“You!” She snarls as her green eyes flash. “I should’ve known it was you, you vile rat.”
“Shhhh,” Curtis hushes her as he raises his axe to his lips and walks forward.
The duchess retracts against Edgar and whines. “Who are you, scoundrel?”
He hushes her again and pushes the blunt top of the axe to her mouth. “I’ve come to make a barter. A generous one as what you’ve taken cannot be repaid.”
“What do you–”
“If I must quiet you again, I will have your tongue in my purse.” He warns. The duchess’ scoffs as her face contorts in fear. “Now, my terms are not imbalance. You will have your maid returned to you. You may even keep your horses and your carriage. But that will be all.” He turns the blade slowly in front of her face. “And you will ride and ride and ride until you cannot any further. But you will not come back here.”
Her nostrils flare and her lip curls.
“And you will not return. Ever. If I see your face again, I will do worse than what your men did to my people.” He sneers. “I will burn you alive but you will not die of it. You will live with it. For days, weeks, possibly months… and your flesh will rot away and you still will not know of the pain you’ve caused me and mine.” He declares, his hand shaking on his axe. “And we will claim what we need. The castle, the kitchens, the barrels you hoard, the rooms kept empty for your pride.” He pushes the axe against her chest. “Am I understood?”
The duchess rolls her eyes. “Kill the maid, see if I care.”
Curtis’ eyes narrow. His lashes dip down and he bows his head. He backs up and signals.
“Grab the pitch.” He commands.
“Pitch?” Diana squeals. “You cannot– you must unhand me– the King will have your heads.”
“Not if I have his first.” Curtis retorts. “But I’ll settle for yours.”
He spins and approaches another man with a pail in hand. He trades his axe for it and looks into it. He carries it to the duchess. It’s steaming.
“You have your men go out and fight your battles so you would not know what pitch smells like. You would not know how it covers the flesh of a man and slowly suffocates him. How he can remain alive for such a time and suffer and suffer.” He tilts his head. “But you will learn. Slowly.”
He raises the bucket as Edgar forces the Duchess to her knees. She cries out and claws at his hands. Curtis holds the pail over her.
“You will not want it to get in your eyes. For what is worse than burning from the outside in, being blind as you do.” He slowly tips the bucket and you close your eyes. The duchess screeches as you hear a sizzle so sickly you fall to your knees. You cover your face with your bound hands and shudder. In her fate, you only see your own.
🪓
The pressure drains from your hands. You open your eyes as the burning smell stains your tongue and soul. You shake as you blink away the shock and stare at your loose wrists. A hand with black trimmed nails winds up the rope.
You look at Curtis as the men move behind him, inspecting the carriage, reining in the horses.
“Is it my turn?” You ask.
His brows tweak and his lashes flutter. “Your…” he begins.
You look at the axe on his belt. He hooks the rope beside it. “What good is your death?” He growls. “Cruel enough she would throw you to us wolves.”
He stands and claps his hands on his jacket.
“What… what do I do?” You ask as you look around.
“Did I say you were free?” He challenges. You stay on your knees. “You know our faces, our names, where we eat and sleep. You cannot go but you don’t have to die.”
He spins away and calls to Edgar. The other men continue to strip down the carriage and search the purses of the soldiers in the dirt. You look over it all. You don’t want to die but you don’t know if you want to live either.
🪓
You walk with the bandits back to camp. Ahead of you, Curtis leads the way, at the rear, Edgar keeps the line moving. As you get to the decline, you lower yourself to make your way down. Your foot slips and you slide over the jutting rocks and roots that make the footholds.
You’re caught by your sleeve. You plant your foot and look up as Curtis clings to you. He steadies you then lets go. You continue down as he trails you.
Ursula greets her husband, Neil, and Edgar finds his wife, Joan, and their daughter, Gwen. The other men disperse to return to their tents. There are two missing. The ones who were bid to take the duchess back to her castle. You can still hear her senseless whimpers.
You peer around. You don’t know what to do. You don’t belong here. You go to the smoking pit and sit in the dirt. You stare at the embers.
You stay like that for a while. Ursula appears with her mussed and pot in hand. You quickly look away.
“My husband says you will stay with us.” She hangs the pot over the pit and stokes it.
“I guess.” You agree weakly.
She nods and hums. “There are some women, you might have seen them. The sisters Martin. They were nuns but… we were all once someone else. They might have space in their tent.”
“I thank you.” You say.
“Hm. If you give me your name, you can share the soup.” She offers.
You look at her. You recite the name that doesn’t feel like yours.
She feeds you as you stay where you are. Others come to warm their food and fill their bellies. You are a ghost among them. Children chase each other between that fire and the next.
Dusk sets in and you shiver. You should get up and find those nuns. You can’t.
The moon shimmers down as the fire dwindles. You lower your head and bend over your knees.
“You cannot sleep here. There are real wolves.” Curtis startles you as his shadow blocks out the moonlight. You look up at him. “My tent remains… open to you.”
“That is kind.” You say.
You rub your hands together and blow into them. You hug your bent knees, tucking your fingers under them. He sighs and circles the pit.
“I’m not asking.” He says.
You swallow. You take a deep breath. You can’t move, not right away. He waits. You shift onto your knees and press your hands to the dirt. You stand stiffly.
He approaches and you shy away. He catches your wrist. You quiver but do not draw away. He walks you away from the fire and between the tents.
Your eyes wander and as you pass Ursula’s tent, you spy her by a torch propped out of the dirt. She watches you and lifts her chin in acknowledgement. Curtis drags you to his tent and pushes you under the flap.
It’s different. There are blankets piled over soft mounds. You have seen that embroidery before. These come from the Duchess’ inventory.
“You need purpose. I took that from you.” He says as he slides his axe free from his belt. He places it on a pillow. He stands straight and undoes his belt completely. He locks it inside the hide chest next to the heap of bedding. “So, I have thought on it. You will have new purpose.”
He stands again and undoes the wooden buttons on his jacket. You stand and rock near the tent flap. He peels off the jacket and folds it over the chest. He tugs the back of his tunic and strips it off too, revealing the dark hair that trims his torso.
When he straightens again, he pauses to look at you. He crosses the small space and grabs the braided end of your belt. He unknots it as he stares at you. You watch the apple of his throat.
“It is cold in the night.” He tosses the belt away and pinches the slack fabric of your dress. “But you are warm and I’ve not been in some years.” His hands stretch around your waist. “Do you see your purpose now?”
Your lip trembles and you squirm.
“Come,” he takes your hand and guides you to the layers of blankets and cushions. “Lay. Tonight we sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll see.”
Summary: A new king means new oaths of allegiance and the search for a queen.
Word Count: ~1.3k
A/N: Reader is plus sized, female. No other physical descriptors used.
Warnings: Implied violence, Light stalking, Royal politics, Smut (male masturbation). Please let me know if I missed any!
Previous--Next
The Great Glen appeared in Curtis' dreams. Though it was not unusual, Curtis could never shake the eeriness of being cognizant he was not in control of his dreams. The strangeness of seeing the Creature outside of himself as they both stood in the presence of the Glen.
"Your future mate will be arriving today," the Glen tells him in that inhuman voice that sounds like dozens of voices in one.
"How will I know her?" Curtis asks as the Creature growls "mate" in a hungry tone.
"She will smell of wild berries. She will be cloaked in dignity but not at the cost of kindness. Her pride in her people will inspire great loyalty."
"Both descriptive and yet, not helpful," Curtis grumbles under his breath.
"I will know her," the Creature promises.
Curtis nods in acceptance.
The morning of your arrival at the palace you make sure to dress appropriately. It's none of the finery you'll be wearing when you greet the king, but it is suitable to a lady of your status.
Conrad and his men are on higher alert because of this change as well. They're keeping you and your horse in a protective circle with Conrad in the lead.
The courtyard around the palace is bustling with activity with the arrivals of parties from every duchy. What staff there is seem well versed in their work and it makes you wonder if King Everett is actually the merciful sort who doesn't harm servants. At the very least, you hope that is the truth of his nature.
Conrad stays by your side as Tanya, the woman who seems in charge of things, tells your party where the carts for the tithes are going. The horses are left with a one-armed man with bright red hair and a small boy who, given the shared hair color, is likely to be his son. It breaks your heart to see young children having to work, but that seems to be the way of things.
Another little boy cuts through the crowd carrying a bucket of water, quite likely for the horses. He trips and the water sprays out, splashing your skirts, and you let out a yelp in surprise.
Immediately the little boy is crying and apologizing and it breaks your heart.
"Hey, hey, it's alright," you reassure him, taking his hands in yours. "It was an accident and it's just water."
"Dirty water," he sniffles. "The other pretty lady threatened to throw me in the dungeon."
"Well I'm not her, and I promise you that you're going to be okay."
"Timmy?" Tanya's voice calls out as she rushes over. "Timmy, are you okay?"
"Yes, Mama," he answers.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"No, Mama. I was just scared. But the pretty lady promises I'm not in trouble."
"Well she's right," Tanya smiles. "So long as you go and refill the water bucket. We've got a lot of horses to take care of."
"Yes, Mama!" he beams as he grabs the bucket and runs back.
Turning to you Tanya's smile softens. "Thank you for not being angry with him."
"Accidents happen," you shake your head. "Still, I should get myself and to my quarters so I can let this dry up."
Entering the wing meant for the ladies of the palace, you grimace at a familiar voice chiding her servants. Marianne, daughter of Duke Snyder. As vicious and ruthless as her father. She was a favorite of Queen Yelena and was set to marry the oldest prince.
But with King Everett taking over, slaying the old king and his sons, banning Queen Yelena to a tower in the castle, those plans had to be thrown out. You'd give her the mercy of thinking she's upset at having years of planning go to waste, but given her treatment of you, your late mother, your father, you let yourself think of her as a demon in human form.
Most of the rooms are already taken over by other ladies of the court and their servants but you manage to find a smaller one that's the perfect size for you and a guard or two. You probably could have brought along one of the servants from home, but it was a long, dangerous trip and couldn't ask any of the ladies who worked for you to go with, especially in disguise.
Freshening up and changing into a more appropriate dress, you can hear the quiet sobs of the lady in the room next to you. Part of you wants to go over and comfort her. This is a very dangerous time to be a Lady. The new king is no doubt in search of a bride, but his reputation for bloody warfare, carnage even, against the former royals does not bode well for a good life. To be forced into the bed of that man is a scary thought indeed. And that's if he doesn't decide to outright kill you for being of noble birth.
As you're finishing up, a pronouncement is made in the wing that tomorrow would be dedicated to the giving of tithes and oaths. Until then, food would be provided in the dining room, though the King will remain in his rooms.
You're certain there will be very little sleep, if any, for the ladies tonight.
In the King's Quarters, Curtis is pacing. His inner creature is practically feral because he knows you've arrived today. The creature swears it can smell you, though Curtis has his doubts.
She is here! the creature thinks. Our mate is waiting for us! She needs to be claimed!
"If we go to her like this, if we move too fast, we could hurt her, scare her," Curtis warns. "Our mate is not to be harmed, even by us!"
The creature begrudgingly calms itself in agreement.
When they sleep, I want to find her.
"So long as we don't wake her up. You'll need to be in charge and your visage is meant to inspire fear."
I'll be careful. Won't wake her. Just want a scent.
"With any luck, she's the one Tanya told us about. The one who comforted Timmy instead of scolding him."
The Great Glen would not approve of the angry one.
"Fair. But for now, we need to calm down. It's going to be a long, boring day tomorrow."
After we find her.
"After we find her."
In the dead of night, Curtis and the creature take advantage of the cloudy night and slink through the windows. In his human form, Curtis wouldn't dare try to scale the walls of the castle, but the creature has the strength, the dexterity, the claws to make simple work of climbing towards the wing where the women are staying.
As they get closer, the scent of wild berries becomes stronger and his mouth salivates, hoping you taste as sweet as you smell.
Can't taste yet, Curtis reminds the creature.
The creature grumbles under its breath but agrees.
When they reach the window to your room, they almost whimper from how sweet you smell. Wild berries, honey, hints of creme. They could eat you out all day. He purrs as he looks over your soft, plush form. He takes a deep, slow breath, savoring everything.
The guard by your door stirs and the creature quickly, quietly, carefully goes back out the window. They'd hoped for more time, but it was probably for the best they left when they did given how hard they are.
Back inside his quarters, Curtis takes control again and fists his erection with fervor.
Should save for mate, the creature objects.
"If I don't cum I'm not going to be able to hold back next time I see her. Remember, we can't scare or hurt her."
She'll look even prettier with our cubs in her belly.
The mental image is enough to push Curtis over the edge and he cums all over his stomach with a grunt.
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+.
Tags/warnings: flashing (in a fun way, pls think of She's the Man)
Summary: A game of touch rugby between friends leaves little to the imagination.
Word count: 856
Navigation | Main Masterlist | Curtis Masterlist
Curtis doesn't usually take part in the sporty games at summer outings. He prefers to read in the shade and helping set up or cook. Seeing you get so riled up at Johnny (and now Colin's) teasing remarks made him smile - you should know better than to let them taunt you.
"Fine!" You say, throwing up your hands before placing them firmly on your hips. "Shirts and Skins."
"We can be shirts," Johnny says wiggling his eyebrows and you almost hit him.
"Just pick your third and then we can pick a ref." You harrumph.
Johnny's smile morphs into a grinch-like grin as he points at Curtis. You hope the dread doesn't show on your face as you glance over. Curtis has locked eyes with Johnny and is getting to his feet. Then he does the unthinkable - he peels his shirt over his head as he walks over and tosses it to the ground.
He's leaner than you thought he'd be but still bulky. Covered head to toe in dark hair that made him look more bear than man. You knew you were staring - you just hoped you weren't drooling.
You swallow a thick lump in your throat. "You almost never play."
Touch rugby was never your forté, however, when Johnny Storm riles you up enough about how boys are better; you just had to prove him wrong.
Jake was the best person to step in as ref, and once the opposite team was ready, the games began. It was Johnny, Colin and Curtis versus you, Natasha and Anna.
Nat and Anna were lighter and more agile than you were, making them perfect to avoid Johnny and Colin's attempts at touching them. They scored twice in ten minutes; but once Johnny had assessed their movements, he somehow managed to maneuver them near Curtis, who stood like a pillar when he reaches out to tap them.
They scored three goals in five minutes.
By the half-time whistle, you're worried you may actually win. You huddle with Nat and Anna, trying to come up with a strategy to win.
"We need two goals to win and that's if they don't get any more goals." Nat sighs. "We have to get past Curtis."
"I have an idea." You say, heat rising to your cheeks. "Have you guys ever seen She's the Man?"
🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉🏉
The plan was working. At least, it was in part.
Stopping Colin and Johnny from scoring was difficult but managable. For fifteen, gruelling minutes, you and your team kept them from scoring. Now, in the last five minutes, you needed to even the playing field or win two goals.
All was going according to plan.
Curtis wasn't quick but because of his build he had a further reach and would be able to catch either one of your teammates if they tried to get past. Unless, of course, there was a distraction.
You nodded at Nat as Jake's whistle sounded, leaping down the field trying to keep up with Nat, with Anna not far behind. You encroach on Curtis, ignoring Colin and Johnny's hoots and hollers for Curtis to nab Nat.
Nat looks to you, looking like she's about to throw the ball your way. Curtis turns his head to you, in anticipation of you catching a well-timed throw.
Instead you lift your shirt, and bra, to your chin.
It's only seconds before it's down again but Nat has already scored. Curtis is frozen in place, cheeks a pretty pink.
"No fair!" Johnny pouts. "That's cheating!"
"Says who?" You counter. "I was way too hot. You guys are topless."
"Aw, ref," Colin calls to Jake. "Come on, man, red card!"
Jake scratches his goattee thoughtfully. "It isn't really against the rules..."
You smirk over at the boys before Jake continues. "But that was dirty. I'll allow it but don't do it again."
You salute at Jake and promise you won't do it again, much to Johnny and Colin's complaints. Curtis on the other hand, doesn't complain. Your cheeks grow warm as you approach him again.
"Sorry." You say in a hushed tone as you pass him. "I've gotta prove a point."
Curtis nods but says nothing, staring at the grass beneath his feet.
Now, two minutes are left. The whistle blows. You race off - determined to keep another goal from being scored. Nat passes to you, avoiding Cole. You weave past Johnny. The goal is in sight. Then the world slows as a giant hand reaches out, past your waist.
You throw the ball with a shout of Anna's name, launching it far over head as you're scooped up into Curtis' arms, and held against his chest as Anna scores the winning goal.
You cheer loudly, hands balled into fists as you throw them upwards, uncaring that Curtis has lifted you over his shoulders like a caveman. You're unsure whose more victorious but as you watch Curtis' butt as he walks you both away from prying eyes; you can't help but feel that it's you.
End
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Summary: You and Curtis share a quiet moment on the Snowpiercer.
Warnings: none
A/N: A Fluffcember 2025 prompt response. This prompt proved a real head-scratcher for a bit, but I'm happy with what came about. This is also as fluffy as I could come up with based on the location and circumstances for the characters in the tail section of the train.
Curtis Everett Masterlist | Character Masterlist
"Tell us more, please," one of the kids gathered around you begged.
She was a tiny child, no more than four or so, with a missing front tooth and bright eyes despite the dirt clinging to her skin. She looked a lot like the other kids in the tail section of the Snowpiercer, even most of the adults if you were honest with yourself.
"Another time," you promised, pushing to your feet and clapping your hands. "For now, it's bedtime for you little snuggle bugs."
A chorus of grousing whines followed your words, but a little prodding soon had them all scrambling into their bunks. Kisses to each of their cheeks with the promise of more stories was enough to have them quietening down for the night.
"You're good with them," Curtis said, standing near the made-up nursery area.
You couldn't help the smile that bloomed across your lips.
Those are the first words he'd ever said to you after finally meeting one another in the early days on the train. They're the same words he continued to say every day since. At first, it had elicited a sound of deep scorn and a scowl to come out of you, but over time, that had changed into the smile you knew he saw in that moment.
Moving towards him, you fell into the arms he held out for you. Against his warm chest, you hummed softly, content once more.
"There will be a day when you'll get to see them."
"Hmm?"
"The glaciers in the stories you tell the kids. You'll get the chance to see them one day."
Nestling deeper into his arms, you allowed yourself a moment before you mumbled, "You can't know that, but it's nice to dream about. Thanks to our governments' previous actions, there should be plenty of them to see."
You felt him tense beneath you in a way that spoke of his tightening resolve.
It came out when he spoke again, soft but sure. "You will. I'll make sure of it. You deserve to have this dream come true."
"Maybe my dreams have changed."
"They shouldn't have to," he argued, not for the first time.
You lifted your head so he could see your soft smile. Leaning forward, he met you halfway so your foreheads rested against one another.
"A place like this makes you appreciate other things in your life. We don't have much back here, Curtis, but I do have you. That's what's most important to me. I don't need more than that."
Seeing his normally stoic expression soften under your gaze, you felt your heart swelling at such a look. It never failed to elicit such a response, too, as you'd learned these past few years.
His lips found yours for a brief moment before he pulled back, mindful of your complete lack of privacy. They soon rested against your forehead for another moment.
"I don't deserve you," he murmured against your skin.
"But you do," you countered, "just as much as I deserve you."
Summary: Curtis surprises you with a birthday gift.
Warnings: none
A/N: A Fluffcember 2025 prompt response that takes place post-canon in a canon divergent ending.
Curtis Everett Masterlist | Character Masterlist
Surviving the train's derailment had been a miracle in itself.
Seeing Curtis had survived as well had been enough to bring you to your knees. Tears poured down your cheeks as you hadn't had any word of him since he took off on his 'revolution'.
To feel his arm wrap around you, you couldn't help clinging to him for several moments. It'd been a real struggle to get yourself back under control even as he murmured the softest words against your ear. If you felt a wetness not born of your tears, you kept silent. This was a moment for you two and you two alone. He'd thought you among those they'd taken out for his continued pursuit. After all his other losses, yours would've been the most unbearable.
Months had passed since then.
Now, you two and the few others to have survived had carved out a space for yourselves somewhere in the world. You couldn't really tell where the train had derailed, and you weren't sure you cared. No longer were you subjected to the horrors and drudgery that was the end car.
Your little band of survivors had even pulled everything you could salvage from the train's wreckage. Tools to gather and hunt for food. Bits of clothing that hadn't been burned along with a few tailor's kits to mend them. Some of the men had even constructed shelter from the very walls of the train itself along with some rudimentary furniture, altered from the existing pieces from the front cars and the upper crust.
Everyone who survived had been equalized once more in their desire to survive against Mother Nature. She, in many ways, proved more brutal than Wilford and his ilk. Yet, she also showed mercy in the forms of lovely sunshine-filled days and bits of flora sticking out of the deep snow. Even now, you could see little flowers poking through, their bid to survive as strong as you and the others.
Seasons didn't look as you recalled them, but you could feel the slight changes in each one.
Curtis had even found a unique way to mark the days.
You had no idea why he did, but you knew he'd tell you once he was ready.
It was on a quiet morning that he finally did.
Out working in the small patch you'd managed to create a makeshift garden, you soon felt his presence behind you.
Shooting him a grin over your shoulder, you paused at the way he held himself. It wasn't something you'd seen in him all these months or even the early days on the train.
"What's wrong?" you asked, uninterested in putting off whatever news he had to give.
He shook his head. His stance shifted subtly as well, loosening in a way you'd grown more acquainted with since the train's crash. His lips moved before any words came out, let alone reached you.
"It's your birthday today."
That had your attention. Your hand stilled with the tiny rake while the other rested on the equally small pail next to you.
"It is?"
He nodded though his gaze swept across the land behind you. "Thought we should celebrate."
Before you could think of anything to say, he closed the distance between you in measured strides. It was only as he crouched next to you that you noticed his arm was behind his back. Wonder filled you at his natural ability to balance in such a way.
Granted, you'd also witnessed him practicing such a move these past months. Whatever had gone down in the engine room with Wilford, he hadn't walked away unharmed as you'd hoped he would. Though, you never saw him as lesser than he was before. No, you saw him as so much more. This was never more true in the way he could so easily kneel before you and others, especially the surviving children. That was one habit he never let die in all your years together in the end car. You didn't see it ever ending, endearing him all the more to you.
Only when his good arm moved to the space between you did you drop your eyes.
A gasp escaped your lips.
His hand held one of the most beautiful hand fans you'd seen in all your years before and during your days on the train.
Dropping your tools, you reached out for the tiny fan he held out between you. The entire piece had been fashioned from salvaged pieces from the train. At least, those parts that had been broken in the wreckage. Tiny tears in the fabric pleats had been mended with a patient hand. It wasn't large by any means, and you had little use for it most of the year due to the continued cold. It didn't stop you from getting a few ideas of what to do with it.
"Oh, Curtis, it's beautiful."
He nodded, swallowing hard.
"I mean it. Thank you," you whispered, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to cherish this forever, you know."
He nodded again. "I do."
"You also know I love you, don't you?"
That earned you a small smile. "Yeah."
"Good," you matched your smile to his, "then it won't surprise you if I decide to repay this sweet gift with one of my own."
"It's your day. You can spend it however you like."
"Well, my sweet Curtis, I plan to spend the rest of it showing you exactly how much I love you."
Summary: You and Curtis are getting ready for a family trip to the Royal Library to hear a reading of your love story.
Warnings: none
A/N: This was absolutely inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, The Polar Bear King. It's also a story I could easily turn into a full-blown series with a rewrite of the storyline, but here's a taste for now from a Fluffcember 2025 prompt.
Curtis Everett Masterlist | Character Masterlist
"You sure this is a good idea?"
Curtis couldn't help asking you for the hundredth time that morning. Even as he continued to dress, his thoughts kept spiraling towards all the unknowns that could happen. He had good reason with all that you two had lived through in the past few months. So much peril just to gain the final happiness that you'd both wanted so much.
"We'll be in the Royal Library, my love. Plenty of guards to keep us and our children safe." You moved toward the large chest of jewels that had been passed down from one queen to the next. "Besides, we promised we'd be there for the reading. It is our love story they're reading after all."
"I know, but I can't shake this feeling."
That had your attention, turning from the chest with the one necklace he'd known you'd choose. It was your favorite of them all because he'd been the one to give it to you. The newest of the lot, too, as he'd only managed to give it to you after he'd been certain the danger had passed and the curse had truly been cast out.
The silver metal had been cast into the shape of a bear's paw. A polar bear, to be exact. Large onyx stones had been set to create the pads while the tips of the nails had been set with real diamonds. The stones glittered even in the low light of your shared bedchamber.
"What feeling, my love?"
After these past seven years together, you'd learned to read him so well. You'd even come to trust in the feelings he had on occasion, having seen how true they could be.
Yet, this one he couldn't name exactly, and that bothered him the most.
"Can't say, but I can't lose you or the children again. I've just got you all back."
He could feel your presence like a soothing balm on his disquiet soul as you closed the distance between you. When your hand came up to his cheek, he nuzzled into it. He couldn't help it. Your touch always softened him and his resolve in ways that few things could.
"We'll keep our eyes open, and our guards up. The old witch has been defeated, my love. I made sure of that when I finally got you back, but I'll happily keep vigilant if it'll help you feel better."
"It would."
"Consider it done, then, my love." You sealed your promise with a chaste kiss to his lips, then turned your back to him, holding up the necklace you'd chosen. "Do the honors for me?"
"Anything for you, my queen."
He took the delicate chain between his large fingers, taking care not to break the clasp. It always took him a few tries, but he eventually managed to get it. Setting the chain against your neck, he dropped his own kiss to the back of your neck, delighting in the shiver that slid down your spine.
Curtis almost wished he could call off this entire outing and drag you back to bed upon seeing that shiver. Those few months of being separated had been enough to make him insatiable. He needed that closeness more than he needed to breathe. The lack of your warmth and your presence in those months had been the worst torment. Never again did he want to experience that loneliness and despair at your absence in his life.
Your hand squeezed his, bringing him back to the present.
"Ready, my love?"
He glanced down at his royal garb and nodded. "As much as I can be."
You smiled at that and led him from the room, always ready for the next adventure that awaited.
"Mama! Papa! So pretty," his and your youngest exclaimed upon seeing you emerge.
Curtis couldn't help but grin at the sight of his children.
The oldest, a son, looked so much like him, but his middle and youngest, both girls, looked so much like you. They all held strong notes of your kind and compassionate nature and your ability to understand animals. Never had he imagined his castle would be so filled with constant animal noises. It'd truly become a veritable zoo of different species that had decided to call the palace home.
"Come, everyone, or we'll be late," you said, clapping your hands and directing the children.
It was with a rather cacophony procession that he followed you and the children outside to the waiting coach.
And he wouldn't have it any other way.
Seeing your happy glow, he knew you wouldn't, either.
