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shadeysprings · 1 year

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Within the Shadows

—Curtis Everett x F!Reader

Summary — Secrets are revealed amidst the celebration of your brother’s ascent to underboss.

Warnings — unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), established relationship, graphic violence, character death, betrayal, hurt no comfort, implied kidnapping, entrapment, Mean!Curtis is in the building.

A/N — This is written for @the-slumberparty's April Monthly Challenge: Mob AU and the prompt I chose was "I don't love you. I own you." I do ask you to be gentle with me as it's my first time writing for Curtis and I'm still trying to get a hang of him.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Standing at the side with the walls and champagne being your only companion, you observe the events playing out in front of you.

Your father’s friends, several of his trusted associates, and family members have gathered in your home to celebrate your brother’s success. He not only passed the challenges that were thrown to him by the leaders, but he also impressed them, giving more than what was being asked of him and utterly exceeding their expectations. It not only convinced them to bestow upon him the title of underboss but deemed him worthy of being your father’s successor in the syndicate.

You’re happy for him—truly you are for you’ve supported him every step of the way and did nothing but encourage him to make your father proud. It even came to the point of helping him in one of the jobs when he caught himself in a tight situation. Giving him a plan of action on how to face the problem which eventually worked in his favor and allowed him to slip through it easily.

Though such a feat, when presented by your brother to your father, was simply brushed off.

“Her words are nothing but a meaningless babble of a jealous child.” Your father sneered in your direction. “You, my son, are still the one that did all the work.” And praised your brother.

“Don’t listen to him, sis,” Gabriel said after your father dismissed you both from his study. “He knows I wouldn’t have succeeded without your help. Besides, I’m underboss now and you can be my consigliere.”

Despite his encouraging words, you still felt defeated, knowing well that no matter what you do to help the family, the way he sees you will never change—a burden, someone with no caliber to the family, and the worst of all, the reason for your mother’s death.

“He’s the child any parent would be proud to have!”

The cheers that echo throughout the main room pull you away from your thoughts and you watch as the guests gather around your brother, clapping him on the back and giving him another round of congratulations. While you, the other child, remain unseen in the background.

Not wanting to endure further any more of the festivities, you finish the remaining contents of your champagne flute in one gulp and set it down on one of the tables before making your way up to your room. You know no one will be looking for you or asking of your whereabouts. Hell, you doubt your father would even care if you left home right there and then.

Staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror, you begin taking off your jewelry and make to reach for the zip of your dress. But the sound of your door opening and closing draws your attention, a small smile grazing your lips upon seeing Curtis’ reflection when he stands behind you.

His usual black long-sleeved shirt is hidden underneath a black coat jacket. You also notice his beard is freshly trimmed, making you adore the way he looks—still gruff but with a splash of class.

You stare at his sapphire eyes as they grow serious with intent when he starts unzipping your dress. Rough hands move delicately over your skin and he pushes the straps from your shoulders, the fabric cascading down your body and pooling around your feet, leaving you only in your shoes and panties.

“You left the party.” He drones, arms slowly circling your middle before he leans down to press a kiss on the crook of your neck.

“No one would look for me.” You sigh and turn to face him, leaning against his touch when his large hand cups the side of your face and his thumb rubs small circles on the apple of your cheek.

“I would.” he breathes, “I did.”

You close your eyes when he leans down and you lean up to meet him halfway, pressing your lips against his. He kisses you softly at first, exploring, gentle, and giving then you feel him pull you close, your hands pressing against his solid chest, and a soft moan leaves your lips when he deepens the kiss.

It wasn’t easy getting to where you and Curtis are now—remembering the day he joined your father’s men; a newbie to the syndicate and assigned to watch over the boss’ daughter.

His silence and grouchy exterior caused you unease, making you unable to trust him and simply go along with your father’s wishes just so as not to upset him. But as the months turned into a year, you grew to know him despite his lack of enthusiasm to talk and you slowly found a friend in the lonesome world of the syndicate.

He’d accompany you to errands your father would give you, an act of pity or a means to give in to your brother’s requests, and you felt nothing but safe in his company. Always standing guard even with no threats visible but you knew better than to question his judgment. He’d even lent a listening ear each time you would ramble on your frustrations about the lack of trust the family gives you and would give small words of comfort, telling you that you’re better than the leaders that run the business.

Eventually, your relationship blossomed, although in secret—Curtis sneaking into your room when you would call upon him or spending days with you at the family’s vacation home when your father would have you nowhere near the mansion when he had his capos over for meetings.

Aside from your brother, he’s the only one you trusted. A confidant you’ve always wanted and a lover you never knew you needed.

Your arms circle his neck, pulling him closer as you reciprocate the intensity of his kiss, tongues, and teeth clashing against each other. A giggle slips from your throat when he carefully, blindly walks you toward the expanse of your bed.

As your back hits the mattress, Curtis kneels on the ground, lifting your leg as his lips trail butterfly kisses down its length before wrapping his fingers around your ankles, one by one, taking off your heels and dropping them to the floor.

Instinctively, you hook your leg over his shoulder and welcome him into your heat. His name leaves your lips in a series of soft moans, fingers skimming over his shoulders and then through his buzzed hair when his lips press against the front of your panties, tongue soaking through the fabric as he rolls it around your clothed clit.

You feel him push your panties to the side, the cool air of your room kissing your heated skin, and your pelvis bucks against his mouth when he laves his tongue slowly against your slit and connects with your clit once more, flicking on the bud before wrapping his lips around it to suck on it hard.

“Curtis—!” you gasp his name, uncaring as your voice bounces against the walls of your bedroom, pulling him closer and slowly grinding your pussy against the warmth of his eager mouth.

He doesn’t hold back and you don’t want him to, loving the way he takes and takes but at the same time gives you the pleasure that has been an addicting sensation each time he’d bury his face between your thighs.

His beard only adds to the lust-filled sensation running through your veins, rubbing your sensitive skin raw and sending a wave of pleasure down to your toes. Your back arches and your breath hitches when he slips his tongue past your pussy folds, licking, tasting, and lapping up the nectar that pools at your core, a gift you willingly give and desire for him to take.

You feel the stirring at the pit of your stomach and you urge to pull away, to stop him from his worship. But he doesn’t relent, hooking his arms around your thighs, growling against your cunt that makes your skin shiver and you do no more but succumb to his control, whining as you feel yourself reaching your limit.

“Curtis—please,” you beg and try to lift yourself by your elbows but the way he looks at you, piercing blue eyes meeting yours, have you convulsing, the intensity of the orgasm taking you by surprise that you tip your head back and call out his name, fingers digging into the duvet as your essence rushes out of you.

“Sweet as ever, princess,” he rumbles into your cunt and gives your clit one last kiss before licking you clean and pushing himself from the ground.

You’re panting heavily, a smile of satisfaction etched on your face. It’s what you’ve needed to release the stress from the evening’s event and forget about the humiliation and dejection from your father.

As you lay on the bed, limbs weak from the pleasure, you smile once more when you feel Curtis join you. He’s naked and warm and you immediately wrap your arms around him when he hovers over you, parting your legs wide to enfold them around him as he positions himself between them.

“Curtis—I need you.” you whimper, feeling the tip of his rub against your folds. “Please—”

“I know, princess,” he whispers, lips ghosting against your cheek before he presses his forehead against yours. “I know.”

With Curtis kneeling on the bed, his arms wrapped around you possessively, you gasp for air with your fingers scratching his skin raw while he sucks on your breast, his cock impaling you repeatedly and making you bounce against his thighs.

He’s made you come twice now and it’s the third time he’s having his way with you, giving you no respite to have you breathe and only switching the position to take you once again. He’s eager and full of passion, a feat you’ve never seen before and you bask in it, allowing yourself to fall into his demands.

He thrusts into you with pure hunger, teeth grazing against the nipple that makes you whine and meet him with each thrust, feeling his cock slide deeper and deeper into you as your cunt slickens further from the lust that cocoons you both.

You look down at him when he pulls away from your tit, sapphire eyes dark, blown wide, and laced with carnal desire. You lean down to kiss him and he meets your lips with a fiery intensity, laying his back on the bed and effortlessly pulling you on top of him.

He swallows your moans when his pace quickens, fucking into you hard and fast, the sound of your skins slapping against each other filling your ears with the unrelenting tempo of his hips. You try to move your hips but he doesn’t let you, keeping you still as his arms tighten further around you.

He’s movements are frantic and reckless and you pull away from the kiss to take in air. But it only makes him latch his lips onto your neck, sucking on the skin and bruising it with his teeth, the sensation making you moan loudly when you feel yourself, once more, reaching your peak.

“You’re mine, princess," he groans when he pulls away from your neck, his eyes boring into yours as he circles his hand on your nape. “You understand? You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you choke, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m yours.”

You feel his cock throbbing against your walls and your breath hitches, hands gripping him tight when the dam within you finally breaks, and your pussy walls flutter around him, your body spasming as you come hard and coat his cock with your essence. He doesn’t take long to follow after, the air in your lungs leaving you all at once when he gives a hard thrust, your name spilling from his lips in a form of a growl when he spills his seed deep within.

Exhaustion finally takes over and you lay limp over his solid chest, soft whimpers escaping your lips as he keeps grinding his pelvis against yours, fucking more of his come into you. You keep your eyes closed, too tired to even move a muscle or appreciate the post-sex haze. But a smile makes its way to your lips when he presses a kiss over your cheek, moaning softly when he wiggles his hips, keeping his cock snug inside your swollen cunt.

“Sleep, princess,” he mumbles against your hair, hands gently caressing your skin. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” His words act as a soothing balm, a comfort you desperately need and you snuggle in his hold, basking in his muscular scent and the warmth he gives you before your consciousness dwindles and you fall into a sated slumber.

But he’s nowhere to be found when you stir from your sleep, a vast bed and a muted darkness greeting you instead of the face of your lover. Though it doesn’t take away the peaceful smile that forms on your face and the delicious ache that sings deep in your bones.

You try to hear if the party in the main room is still up and swinging but the time displayed on the clock says it’s way beyond midnight. You only hope that the festivities have been long over and that everyone has gone home and called it night but still, you don’t put it past your father to hold one of his private meetings with his capos now that your brother has joined the fold.

Walking toward your closet, you put on a pair of pajama shorts and a night shirt before leaving your room, wanting to look for Curtis and grab a glass of water before heading back to bed. But as soon as you climb down the stairs, an odd feeling drenches you with the halls being eerily quiet and your father’s men that usually walk around the house nowhere to be found.

You make it to the kitchen, still set on your intent when a peal of chilling laughter sounds from the main room. The voice is somewhat familiar, one you’ve heard in your father’s meetings with his boss. But that can’t be—despite your lack of involvement in the syndicate, you know the rules that had been laid out for the others to follow.

“Let’s see if these moves fuck!” The voice says with amusement.

An angry shout follows after followed by a pained grunt and you can tell it's your brother. Immediately, you run to the dining table and snatch the gun tied under it before stalking over to the main room, keeping to the walls to check on the unwanted visitors. But what you witness makes the bile crawl up your throat, a massacre of your father’s associates, the strong scent of metal wafting through the air as lifeless bodies are scattered across the floor.

The walls of the room are painted crimson and men you don’t recognize stand still at the sides, armed and stoic while they watch the scene playing out before them; your father tied to a chair, gagged and beaten while your brother stands in front of him, protecting him. Blood trickles from his head and his left eye swollen, he holds up a knife, grip tight on the handle while he faces the enemy that taunts him.

Lloyd Hansen is never supposed to set foot on your family’s territory. It’s the rules the elders have given when your father was gifted the city. But there he stands, looking pristine in his black turtle neck and blood-spattered white jeans with only the cut on his cheek and his disheveled hair giving away that he’s been fighting. But still, he holds himself in that cocky demeanor, the hair on his lip twitching when he smirks and taunts your brother.

Before he could get close to your brother, you stand away from where you’re hiding and pull the trigger, a loud bang resounding through the walls as the bullet meets the marble floor by Lloyd’s feet, making both men flinch and Hansen’s men stand on alert, all guns pointed at you.

“What the fuck?!” Lloyd shouts, his head turning and anger etched on his face when he faces you. “You almost shot me!”

“Stand down.” A voice calls in the room and you stand in shock when Curtis comes out from the shadows, a hand resting on Lloyd’s shoulder before walking over in your direction. “You’re not supposed to be here, princess.”

“Curtis—” you say in a rush, panic surging through your veins when he nears you. “What’s going on—”

“Stay away from him, sis!” Gabriel shouts, grunting in pain soon after when one of the men clad in black hits him in the back with a gun, making him drop to his knees. “He—” he wheezes, “he’s a traitor.”

“What—” you flinch when the gun is snatched from your hand, the firearm sliding across the floor. Curtis stands so close, his sapphire eyes laced with darkness as he rests his hands on your shoulders. “Curtis?” your lips quiver upon saying his name, the easiness slipping from your lips and replaced with fear. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that we’re taking over this worthless city, sunshine.” Lloyd answers from behind him, a smirk playing on his lips as he runs a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you tell her, boss?”

“Boss?” You blink in surprise and step back from Curtis, disbelief running through your head as you try to piece everything together. Your brother’s warning, Lloyd’s words and Curtis looking unscathed despite facing the enemy. “You’re—” anger surges through your veins and you ball your hands into fists, lunging at Curtis and beating at his chest. “You liar! You fucking used me!”

But you’re fighting a losing battle as he easily grabs your wrists and you yelp loudly in pain when he turns you around, twisting your arm and bending it behind you, your shoulder straining from his strength.

“You let her go!” Your brother shouts in rage but Lloyd kicks him in the stomach, making him bowl over and drop himself on the floor.

Curtis walks you into the vast room, having you stand over your brother and you cry when you see his condition, battered and bruised as he struggles to push his feet under him. But you only shout in agony as Lloyd kneels over him and continues to beat him, fists raining down on your little brother’s face, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Watch carefully, princess.” Curtis drones, his other hand framing your chin as he forces you to face forward. “This is all thanks to you.”

“Why are you doing this?!” You shout as you continue to struggle against his hold. “Please—let him go! If you love me, Curtis, you’ll let him go.”

You feel him tense behind you and you’re washed with relief when he commands Lloyd to stop.

Lloyd’s fist stops mid-air, a huff of annoyance leaving his lips before he stands and Curtis’ grip on you slackens, allowing you to stagger forward and kneel before your brother. You cradle his head as you try to wipe away the blood from his face. your tears flowing continuously as you stare down at him, watching him cling to life as you grab his hand and press it against your cheek.

“I’m here, baby brother.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his. “I’m here.”

You see a faint smile form on his face but a loud bang echoes in your ear, making you recoil in fear. But as soon as the chaos dissipates, you face your brother to check on him but stay stock still when he stares up at you with lifeless eyes, blood trickling from his head and staining your hands, seeing a bullet lodge in his head.

You scream in shock but more in agony as you shake him, and beg for him to be alive. But nothing comes out of it, not a sound or even a movement, making you cry out harder as you hold him to you, your baby brother—gone.

Another shot sounds and you snap your head to the side only to see your father slumped forward, his restraints holding him from falling off his seat. But he, too, met the same fate as your brother. You turn to see Curtis standing over you, the gun you previously had in your hand now in his and you pounce at him, rage taking over you as you try to attack him.

But he easily fends you off by smacking the back of his hand against your cheek, making you drop down where your brother lays. You then wince when you’re pulled by your hair, making you look up to face Curtis who crouches in front of you, the hand holding the gun reaching over to caress your cheek that swells from his assault.

“Why are you doing this?” You cry, defeat drenching you cold. “I thought you love me—”

“Love you?” The low drawl of his voice sends a chill up your spine, pulling away when he leans closer and presses his forehead against your own. “I don’t love you. I own you.” he spits and you feel your heart break at his words, all the comfort you felt with him shattering into dust.

He did this—fooled you and your family, disguising himself as a bodyguard only to get information on the ins and outs of your father’s business. And the worst part? You showed him the way. With all your complaining and mindless ramblings, you were feeding him information that no one should have known.

So, his words bear some truth, that this was all your doing.

“And along with that, everything your family has.” He smirks and your stomach rolls in disgust when he presses a kiss on your forehead.

underboss - 2nd in command to the boss

consigliere - trusted advisor of the boss

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibrary and turn on notifications.

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #dark curtis everett #navy and roo's sleepover #dark!curtis everett #snowpiercer au #within the shadows #dark fic #shadeyspring fics #mafia au #mob au

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

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📖"Body Heat" : a Snowpiercer-Marvel Mashup Story

Part 1 - "The Man"

Rated: Mature (non-explicit chapter, marked mature for dark themes)

Pairing: Curtis Everett x ofc

Tags: dystopia, food insecurity, post apocalypse, age difference (18/34), dark!fic, implied/referenced suicide, background character death (offscreen), poverty, arranged marriage, implied/referenced past cannibalism, hurt/comfort

Summary: She’s too young for him to be eyeing her up the way he has been, but this is the Tail section, and Curtis has caught other men looking more than once. Everything is a commodity in the Tail. Everything. It won't be too long before he has to step in and claim her.

Author's Note:

On Tumblr, forbidden ToS content categories are: "terrorism, hate speech, harm to minors, self harm, sexually explicit material, violence, threats, gore, and mutilation."

And while you ARE apparently allowed to write a fictional story about incestual, torturing, anorexic racists who rape, murder, kidnap, hate, cannibalize, terrorize, and self-injure in the plotline of said story,

you ARE NOT allowed to write an underage character who engages is any sort of sexualized conduct in a story.

For this one category and this one category alone, Tumblr staff (or at least one particular individual 😏on staff) makes no distinction between fictional stories and C.S.A.M. They can and will delete your blog without any notice.

So, in the face of this VERY SPECIFIC criteria for Tumblr's censorship choices, I have changed the age of a character in this story to 18. That's not how the story was originally written, and the story can still be read on Ao3, which does not arbitrarily censor their content. But my m/f stories seem to be most popular on Tumblr, so I wanted to include the altered version in my library here.

(To be spiteful, however, I have changed the ofc from 16 to 18 and Curtis from 28 to 34, thus WIDENING the original age gap from 12 yrs to 16 yrs😆)

🖤With that said, this is a dark story regardless, so if you're looking for fluff, I suggest you look elsewhere.🖤

Part 1 - "The Man"

The Man’s been dead for almost a day, the body already stiffened in rigor mortis and then relaxed again by the time anyone comes to take it.

They’d found him in his bunk just after breakfast yesterday, which means they’ve been keeping his wake for nearly twenty-four hours now, up at the front of the lead assembly car; his daughter and a few others who were closest to him sitting vigil with the body until the time comes. Mourning while they still can.

Jackboots visit the tail section only once per day—in the morning, with the food. That’s how Tailies tell time. So when one of their own dies, the funeral and the family’s goodbyes last only as long as the next arrival of the next pushcart with the next batch of gelatinous bars.

Bringing in food and taking out bodies—a callous reminder to Snowpiercer’s lowest inhabitants that their deaths are little different from their lives: cold, unadorned, hopeless.

Curtis keeps his distance once he’s paid his respects, and it’s quiet now as they all wait. A few people had given some nice speeches earlier, a decent eulogy capped off by the beautiful singing voice of the daughter that The Man has left behind: Rose.

Curtis watches her adjust the sheet over The Man’s body. He’s already been washed and stripped in preparation, wrapped in the old grey sheet that will be returned to them within a matter of hours. Nothing is wasted on Snowpiercer. The few pieces of clothing that The Man had owned now sit folded on the floor, ready to be given to their next occupants. The sight of his trademark checked shirt, unworn and available, is a point of mourning all in itself, Curtis finds.

New clothing always means death.

The Man had been a good person, a leader in his own right. Back when they’d first boarded, he’d been one of the first to volunteer his own flesh—though only once his wife had been killed and the mob was coming for his young daughter, too.

Curtis looks back up towards the front of the car when the heavy groans of unlatching metal come from the next section up. Rose’s face, covered in tears, also shoots up at the sound. Her eyes widen and her lip begins to quiver again. Her fingerless-gloved hand reaches for the body, clutching The Man’s shoulder one last time as the door slides open.

The jackboots bark for everyone to move back, since the funeral group isn’t sitting behind the usual yellow line of demarcation that’s taped to the floor, but then they look down and see the body. The lead guard sighs. “Oh, great,” he mutters. “Just what I wanted to do today.”

Curtis’ eyes narrow and his muscles tense, anticipating disrespect to the body—that he can handle, is used to, but if they lay a hand on her as the scene plays out, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to restrain himself. Rose is a sweet girl despite her circumstances, with an innocence and a naivety that usually only the train babies have, and Curtis has always done what he can to look out for her.

“Right,” the one guard says to the other. “Okay. Protein blocks first, then you can load ‘im on the cart.”

Rose stays sitting by the body as everyone lines up to receive their daily portions. Curtis makes eye contact as he steps up to the lead guard and takes his portion. “Be nice,” he says. “It’s her dad.”

Luckily, the jackboots don’t seem to be in any kind of foul mood today. They let Rose sniffle over the body for a few extra seconds before hefting the corpse onto the empty protein block cart. And then they’re gone. No muss, no fuss, no fanfare. Just like it always happens when a Tailie dies.

“What do you think they do with them?” Curtis overhears Ned and Peter saying, talking with each other as they nibble off their protein blocks not too far from Rose. “Throw ‘em out?”

“How?” Peter says doubtfully. “S’not exactly an escape hatch in this thing.”

“Course there is,” Ned argues. “Where d’you think your shit goes when you flush the—”

“Hey,” Curtis hisses, glaring at them and tipping his head discreetly in Rose’s direction. “Show a little respect.”

Ned and Peter mumble an apology and move off, and when Curtis looks back to Rose, she’s blinking up at him with red rimmed eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, her voice deeper than usual as it emanates from a throat scraped raw by grief.

“I did.” Curtis walks over and slides down the wall to sit next to her. “He was a good man, your dad.”

“Thanks,” she says quietly.

Her nose sounds all stuffed up, so Curtis fishes in his pocket for his handkerchief. “Haven’t spoken to you in a hot minute,” he says, handing it over for her to blow her nose.

“Yeah well I hear you’re always planning the next revolution, so ��”

Curtis scoffs. “Yeah, maybe.” He looks her over, taking in the worn knit of her sweater, the colorless felt of her coat that’d once been blue and belonged to her mother. So many of the Tailies are worn down to nothing but dull, grey husks now, just like the clothes they’ve recycled for over a decade. But Rose is different.

For whatever reason, her skin is still clear, her hair still thick. The malnutrition hasn’t affected her the way it has most others. Her soul still comes through her eyes. That inner luminance makes her pretty, maybe even the prettiest girl in the tail section. Even though she’s still very young. Probably too young for Curtis to be eyeing her up the way he has been, these past few months.

But she’s about that age now, even though it feels like only yesterday he was scrounging up materials to make her a little doll she could play with. People grow up fast in the tail whether they want to or not, and Curtis has been on high alert for a while now because he’s caught other men looking more than once. He’s even heard some bits of hushed conversation, whispered from nearby bunks where the occupants didn’t realize he was there to listen. Everything is a commodity in the tail. Everything. And there’s no one else who looks like Rose. She’s only made it this far because of her father.

And now her father’s dead.

Curtis realizes he’s been staring a little too long when Rose’s eyes slide over to him in curiosity. He coughs and looks away, shaking his head when she tries to hand him back the handkerchief. “Naw. You hold onto it for me, Hon.” She tucks it shyly away in her coat, and Curtis is pleased. “So …” he hedges, not knowing what to say to her. There’s nothing he can say. All they have in the tail is each other, their people, and she’s just lost hers. “So … you still going by ‘Rosebud’?”

That gets a tiny smile from her, which warms Curtis’ chest in the same way that he can remember whiskey doing, a lifetime ago. “Nobody calls me that anymore,” she says. “Nobody but him. And you.”

“Yeah?” Curtis thinks on it some. “Well maybe you should retire it. It’s a girl’s name anyway.”

“Aren’t I a girl?”

He raises an eyebrow without looking at her. “You still have that doll I made for you?” He hears her scoff and knows the answer. Rosie helps look after the young children in the tail. Curtis has seen that shabby little doll floating around in various tiny hands for years now. “You’re a good person,” he says quietly. “Like your dad. He was good. I’ll miss him." He’s looking straight ahead across the assembly car when he says it, but he still catches her slight movement out of the corner of his eye.

“He didn’t act any different,” she says, voice tiny. “I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything that made it seem like he was going to …” She cuts herself off, swallows thickly and shakes her head. “I just didn’t know.”

Curtis holds out his hand in offer for her to hold, and she takes it. Even with the fingerless glove on, her hand still feels tiny in his. “How about Petal?” he suggests.

“Petal?”

“Yeah,” he decides. “Yeah that’s what I’ll call you. Petal. My rose petal.”

“Oh, god.” She groans. “No. Curtis.”

“No?” He turns his head to look at her, and this time he waits until she looks at him too. Her expression sobers as their eyes meet. Curtis reaches to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s a beautiful word,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t I call you that?” His eyes skip over her face, soaking up the way her breath stutters, how a slow blush starts to fill the apples of her cheeks. “I promise I won’t tell anybody else,” he whispers.

She ducks her chin with a bashful smile. “Well, I guess so.”

In her lap, her other arm curls protectively around the small pile of belongings she’s been holding onto, drawing Curtis’ attention. Her father had been a large man, imposing, and yet the pile is so tiny. A whole entire life, compressed into less than one square foot in the end.

(Curtis does wonder, sometimes, what they do with the bodies.)

“He was one of our best,” he tells her. “Even in the Desperation. I remember how he was, how he volunteered. He was a leader. Brave.” His eyes slide over to the excuse for an artificial limb that's been cobbled together from an umbrella and a few old wire coat hangers, of all things. Now it sits, sad and unused, on the floor next to Rose’s leg. “You know who you’re gonna give it to?”

“What?”

He nods at the limb. “His arm. It’s the best one in the tail.”

“Oh.” She glances away from it, looking pained. “No,” she says. “I figured I’d just give it to you.”

“Me?” Curtis isn’t one of the few who’d volunteered in the Desperation—obviously, as he’s still got all four limbs intact. He wasn’t the same person back then that he is now. Back then he’d been a taker, not a giver. He looks away with a frown. “Give it to Phil,” he suggests. “He needs one, since his broke.”

Rose agrees that the arm should go to Coulson. She carefully sets the pile of clothing aside on the floor and returns to place her hand back in Curtis’ waiting one, this time pulling their joined hands into her lap. They sit there together like that for a long while, not speaking, just existing side by side. Some things have so much more value now than they did Before, including silent company and a comforting hand.

“Do you remember it much?” Curtis eventually says.

“Before?”

“No.” He never talks about Before, since it only breeds despair. “Boarding,” he says. “Do you remember?”

“Of course.”

He winces. “Oh. I didn’t know if you did. You were so young. I thought maybe … maybe you’d forgotten. A lot of the kids did, even some of the older ones.”

“Yeah. MJ was eight and she says she can’t remember at all.”

Curtis nods. “Sometimes it feels like a dream even to me, it was so long ago.” He’d been twenty-two when the world froze and people were reduced to animals all around him. Twelve years couldn’t erase that pain, but it could muddle it a lot. “I’m sorry you didn’t. Block it out.”

“I remember ... shouting,” Rose says, her voice teasing the memory out. “It was dark. And I remember getting shoved around, hiding against my mom's legs, being hungry ... how cold it was.” It’s been cold ever since, but never as cold as that night—the last night before the wind and snow and ice got shut out forever. She heaves a sigh. “It’s all a jumble in my mind, anyway. I couldn’t see past anyone’s coat.”

“You were little,” Curtis mumbles. “Short.”

“Well I was six."

He smirks and bumps her shoulder with his. “You’re still short,” he teases, while privately he thinks that it’s better that she was so young when it happened. It means her earliest memories are of cold and chaos, and that’s better than the alternative of having had more time in the World. It means less things to mourn. “What are you going to do now?” he asks, shaking his head like he can knock the past out of it. "Plans for today?"

Rose shrugs. “Same old, same old. Kids, stories. It’s my night to shower.”

Curtis turns his head towards her, brow furrowed. “You … but you’re not going back to you guys' spot, right?”

"'Course. Where else would I go?"

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, what he thought the alternative was supposed to be. Every square centimeter of the tail section is already portioned and claimed. New space doesn’t just appear. Nothing new ever appears, except babies, bodies, and the rats that Wanda breeds to supplement their diet.

“Rosie,” Curtis scolds. “No. You can’t go back there. Not where he—”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says stubbornly, pretending it doesn’t bother her. But she’s a horrible liar and that’s just another thing that's always made her so endearing ... and so vulnerable.

“Hon,” Curtis mourns,

“It’s just a bunk," she insists. "He slept there, he died there. I’ll probably die there too, one day.”

Curtis growls unhappily. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. Hey, things won’t always be like this.” He catches her throwing him side eye and he glares at her. “They won’t.”

“Right,” she says, mouth quirking sadly at one corner before her gloved hand gives his a final squeeze and then lets him go. “Well. Not everybody has the big plans that you do, Curtis. Sometimes it's better to know what the future holds, even if it's this.”

“Don’t lose hope, Petal,” he pleads, but he can see that she’s dismissive of it. People lose hope all the time in the Tail. That’s what’d killed her father.

He sighs and looks back to the opposite side of the car. Now that the jackboots are gone it’s thinned out some, with some people gone back to their bunks and others remaining behind to munch on their protein blocks in the fresher air of the assembly car. Curtis spots a man several yards away who’s been openly staring at Rose. When the man sees Curtis looking, however, he hurriedly turns away.

Curtis scowls. “Hey,” he says, intending to take Rose's hand again and offer to have her spend the night with him. But her hand isn't there when he reaches over. She’s getting up, gathering her dead father’s pile of folded clothing items in her arms. Curtis frowns and gets up with her. He hurries to pick up the artificial limb. “Wait. Where’re you going?”

“Gonna give these to Gilliam,” she says, already on the move. “I want him to have first dibs." As if her father’s clothing would even come close to fitting Gilliam's shrunken and weathered old frame.

But Curtis gets up anyway and follows after her, not wanting to let her go just yet. He hurries along as she walks surprisingly fast for having such short legs. “Hey,” he says, talking to her back as they navigate through the communal living cars and the showers, and then into the cramped passageways of the market. “Hey, you know … you could come over tonight, if you wanted. My spot’s a pretty good size.”

“So is ours—” she says, faltering when she realizes her mistake. “I mean, so is mine.”

Curtis sighs and grabs her shoulder, pulling her to a stop. “Don’t go back there,” he pleads, cornering her into a cramped spot to face him. “Hey. I mean it, Hon. Don’t. You shouldn’t go back there tonight. Not alone, not where he …” She squares her jaw and looks up at him, expression stubborn as ever, and Curtis is struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss her. “It’s too soon,” he insists, because she’d been the one to find The Man sitting up in the bed: straight backed and purple faced and all out of hope, a cord wrapped thrice around his neck. “Too soon,” Curtis repeats sadly.

“I’ll be okay,” she insists, nodding when he makes a face to show how much he doesn’t agree with that. “It’s fine, Curtis. Really. I appreciate the offer. And I get it, I do. But that's our spot, ya know? I’ve lived there for twelve years, and I—” her eyes cut away, glossy with the threat of fresh tears. She swallows thickly and won’t look at him again. “I’m not ready to leave it,” she whispers. “I’d rather stay where it still smells like him.”

Curtis isn’t sure what love feels like, but he thinks maybe it’s partly made up of the horrible feeling he gets in his guts when he sees Rose in pain like this. “... Okay,” he says quietly, taking a small step back so that she can continue on down the passage. The tail is made up of twenty cars, and they’re only several down from the forwardmost car at this point. “Gilliam’s probably at the back,” he tells her. He can see that she wants to be alone in her grief, though he hates the idea of letting her go. “Hey,” he says softly, cupping her face. “I’m right here if you need me, Hon. You know that, right?”

She smiles and nods with watery eyes, worsening the tug in Curtis’ guts. He thinks seriously about leaning in and kissing her, but winds up holding himself back like he’s done so many times already. Instead he just strokes his thumb over her cheek, finger ruddy against the clear skin of her face. “Okay,” he says again. He gently places the artificial limb on top of the stack of clothing she holds, then takes another step back. “I’ll see you at dinner?” he asks, not bothering to hide the hope in his voice. He wants to see her again, as much as possible. The more he can keep her in his sights, the better.

“Yeah,” she agrees, leaning up to plant a quick peck to his cheek. “Thanks, Curtis. For looking out for me. He'd feel better, knowing that."

He watches her go with a sense of trepidation, uttering a quiet, "Not doin' it for him," once she’s halfway down the car.

Masterlist

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 6 months

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Feast of Flesh

An incomplete and undeveloped story idea I kind of wanted to throw out into the void.

So I decided to watch Snowpiercer today and had a wondering...

Has anyone thought of putting Curtis Everett and Steve Kemp together in a story? Our sad, reluctant cannibal against our enthusiastic, indulgent one?

Like, it's an AU on the train with some of the same premise - the Curtis Revolt and all that, but then what if once he gets into the front sections, he's confronted with front-enders who consider cannibalism a delicacy? And there you are with Steve. He's pampering you and getting you ready like a lamb for slaughter, and our dear Curtis just can't have that.

There would be the taunting from Steve. The front-end passengers had been told stories and shown footage of the freeloaders from the back of the train, and being one of the higher-ups, he knew more of what went on between Wilford and Gilliam and Curtis himself - "I know you prefer babies, but when treated right, that honeypot between a woman's legs isn't the only delicious part."

He would be tempting him with other delicacies on the table, and you just lying there with your body on display all trembling and desperate to be saved, while also terrified of the tail-ender before you having heard horror stories about them over the years.

Curtis thinks about Gilliam's words about holding a woman, and his mouth waters just thinking about tasting you, smelling your clean skin, soaking in your warmth. But! He leaves you; he needs to get to the front to take over. Steve doesn't do anything to stop him, certain he would be taken care of by the other guards or Wilford himself.

And when Curtis does defeat Wilford and takes over, he comes back with a new mission. Steve doesn't stand a chance against Curtis' brute strength and savage violence. He spares you, and after witnessing all that he had done on the way to the front and then taking care of Steve in a bloody mess, you're trembling and staring at him with wide, wet eyes.

"This is my train now, you hear me?"

You nod, shaking with tremors and reluctant relief.

"That means you're mine now. You hear me?"

No one else is ever eaten on the train again, but Curtis sure does love to feast on you in other ways.

#curtis everett #steve kemp #tw cannibalism #snowpiercer au #curtis everett x reader #steve kemp x reader #hope this doesn't end me up in dumblr jail

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Family Affair

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, violence, humiliation, biting, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your sister surprises you with good news but you find it difficult to be happy for her. (older, short reader)

Character: Curtis Everett

Note: Happy Curtmas.

For @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Chatter buzzes from the front room as you brace the wall and lift your foot to unzip your wedge boot. You’re late and the guests are already in the throes of their celebration. You wiggle off both boots and set them amid the clutter of many. As you stand straight and gather up your gift bags and purse, you’re met with an unexpected sight.

You lift a brow, slightly confused by the unfamiliar man. He’s tall, his hair is cut short, and dark stubble adds definition to his well-formed jaw. His eyes are a bold shade of aquamarine but are glossed over with an almost indifferent gleam. He doesn’t say a word as your eyes meet and he just as quickly turns into the front room, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans.

It’s been a few years. You’re sure a lot has changed. You head down the hall, past the broad archway of the front room, and into the kitchen. As usual, your mother is there, readying another tray of finger foods.

She looks up from her intent work and gives a wide smile, “you’re here!” She chimes, “I was half-waiting for a call saying you wouldn’t make it.”

Her arrow hits the bullseye of your guilt. You haven’t been the most reliable. You can make excuses; the divorce, work, depression. None of that can assuage her.

“Sorry, mom,” you go to put the gift bags down and she stops you with a tut.

“Ah, ah, you go add those to the pile and say hello,” she demands, “you’re not hiding in here.”

You look at her, almost desperate. You love her but sometimes you wonder if that feeling is mutual. As much as she’s right, you hoped she might have some empathy. She’s been through a turbulent split, she’s had to start again, but she expects you to do it flawlessly. As she has anything else.

“Love you, mom,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Love you too, hon,” she goes back to arrange the spiral of cocktail weenies, “make sure you say hello to your sister. She’s so excited to see you.”

You nod and a real smile breaks through. That was the one light at the end of the tunnel. Your baby sister was always your favourite. Despite nearly two decades between you, she’s your best friend. In a way, you feel like a second mother, taking pride in her like you would a child of your own.

The front room is filled to the brim. Aunt Geri and Uncle Val sit on a sofa with their son, Miko. A cluster of similarly aged cousins stand at the edge of the couch chatting. Aunt Maureen argues with Aunt Kaya, and the latter’s husband stands by the window with a glass in hand and his mind a million miles away.

You always found yourself out of place at these things. When you were a child, you were the youngest one in the room. Too immature to understand the dialogue of your elders. As you got older, the other cousins came along and were too young for your angsty teenage self. Now, you’re caught in the desert between the eras; the retirees complain too much and the coeds talk too loud.

You peer around. A set of broad shoulders draws your eye in the corner of the room. It’s that same man you saw before. He has his back to you as he maintains a casual posture. As he leans on one leg, you see your sister, Adeline, gabbing to him. Oh, he must be with her…

As you drop your gifts under the tree, you mull the revelation. You suppose the assumption wasn’t obvious. At first glance, he’s older than her, or maybe he just looks it. She’s still a sophomore in college but you suppose that makes even more sense. These are the years she gets to figure it all out.

You face the room and stop as Aunt Maureen latches onto your arm, blindsiding you with Kaya as they close in like hyenas.

“There she is,” Maureen slurs.

“Not too good for us after all, huh?” Kaya challenges.

“What? No, uh, Merry Christmas–”

“Where’s Benny?” Maureen interrupts. You blanch, nearly choking on your tongue. The mention of your ex-husband has you breathless.

“Maur,” Kaya hisses, “remember…”

“Probably with his new girlfriend,” you say tersely.

“Oh my,” Maureen lets you go and slaps her forehead, “I’m so sorry. The wine…”

“It’s… okay,” you shrug. “Not talking about it won’t undo it.”

“He was such a charming man,” Maureen hums mournfully. You blink at her.

“His loss,” Kaya pats your arm gently, trying to clean up her sister’s mess. You know they all think the same. You had a good thing and you blew it. Even if you told them he fucked his co-worker, you’d be the one who threw it all away.

“Pity you never got a kid outta him,” Maureen sighs.

“Really, divorce has been final for a year, I’m good,” you insist and shuffle past them, “I’m going to make the rounds.”

“Don’t forget to have some wine,” Maureen calls after you, “takes the edge off disappointment, you know?”

You growl and shake your head as you stalk away. You wave hello to your other aunt and uncle, hoping to avoid a similarly humiliating encounter, and weave through the sea of guffawing cousins. You come out on the other side as Adeline beams up at her guest.

Her gaze is drawn by your movement and her face lights up. She bounces in place and throws her arms out. She rushes past the man and has you wrapped up in a hug. It’s kind of ridiculous how much taller she is. You’re supposed to be the bigger sister.

“You’re here!” She rocks you in her embrace, “eek! I’m so excited.”

You croak out a breath as she squeezes the air out of you. She releases you with a giggle, apologising as she steps back. She wears a long tulle skirt and a beaded sweater. She’s beautiful. You could never pull something like that off, even twenty years ago.

“Oh, oh, you have to meet Curtis,” she snatches your hand and tugs you over the tall man as he turns to face you. Those same vague eyes fall upon you, “Curtis, this is my sister!”

“Curtis,” you repeat, “it’s nice to meet you.”

You look between them with a brittle smile. He offers his hand as he returns the sentiment. You shake, his palm rough and calloused. Adeline vibrates with joy.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says.

“And I’ve heard nothing about you,” you grin at Adeline, “Addy?”

“I’m sorry,” she cups her cheeks guiltily, a sparkle on her ring finger. Your heart drops. “I didn’t know how to– the divorce and–”

“Ad,” you wisp and nearly sway on your feet, “what is that?”

You point to her hand and she quickly swipes it away, hiding it behind her back. “Nothing,” she gulps, the same way she did when she was a child and you caught her playing with your makeup.

There’s a tense silence as you gape in shock. Your mouth hangs open as you search for the words. Your eyes tinge with hot tears but you swallow them back.

“Congratulations,” you draw her into a hug, “really, I’m happy for you.”

She hugs you back, gentler than before. As you part, she looks nervous. Curtis clears his throat.

“Both of you,” you offer him a fragile smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little… shocked. Does mom know?”

Adeline nods as she clasps her hands together. You take a breath, and calm yourself. It’s not anything that she fears, you’re not jealous. You’re nervous, you’re afraid for her. It’s a big thing and she’s so young.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to share the good news,” you say, “I’d love to help, if I can?”

“We got it,” Curtis insists.

“Oh,” you wince, “I didn’t mean– I could help with the planning or the engagement part–”

“We’re eloping,” he crosses his arms, “we’re not wedding people. Whole lot of money and fanfare for nothing.”

You nod, holding back your surprise as best you can. Nothing? It’s marriage. Even if they don’t want a big ceremony, it means something.

“I could help pay for the trip–”

“I got it,” he enunciates each word as he sidles over to sling his arm around your sister’s back. She looks away meekly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. She’s my sister, I just want to–”

“If you wanted to help, you would’ve been around the last two years,” he interjects.

Adeline’s head snaps around as she gives him a look. She nudges him with her elbow and whispers his name. He glares at you as you wilt. You’re not sure what you’ve done or said.

“Well, I think maybe me and Addy can talk about that,” you look at your sister, “when you have a chance, of course. I don’t want to spoil the holiday.”

“Adeline,” he corrects you, “Addy is so juvenile.”

The benefit of the doubt splinters as his tone cuts through you. You bite your tongue. Perhaps a twenty-one year old is juvenile to someone his age. You’ll talk to Addy about that too.

“Adeline,” you force a smile, “I… I’m going to go check on mom.” You show a palm in deference as you excuse yourself, “we’ll catch up later.”

As you back away, your eyes meet Curtis’. He watches you with a scowl. You are taken completely off balance. How could she end up with someone like him? She’s so sweet and he’s so scary…

Maybe she’s afraid too.

🎄

Christmas Eve ends much the same as you remember. The elders sit around the dining table to play cards as the kids, now adults, disperse in the living room or outside to entertain themselves. There’s a vague stench near the front door that no one will comment on but everyone knows what it is as it wafts in from outside.

You find yourself in limbo, once more caught in the in-between. You hole up in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as you wait for it to tremble. You won’t be missed if you take a tea up to your assigned room without a good night.

You lean on the counter and sigh, your finger brushing over the brim of the white porcelain cup with the hen on it. Strange how your mother’s house never seems to change but your life is inextricably altered. Your melancholy dims the cheery decor around you as you wallow away from the voices of the merry.

“There you are,” Adeline startles you as she sweeps in, “oh, is there any of the hot choccy left?”

You smile at her question. Everything about her reminds you of the time passed, of her newfound adulthood, yet she’s just the same little girl you always knew. You turn and pull the tin forward, “one packet left, just for you.”

You pull it out and face her again. She pulls out a mug from the cupboard and sets it down. The kettle hums between you as it heats up.

She exhales as you linger in a tense silence. You both have so much to say but neither of you know where to start. She finds her words first. Despite being younger, she was always the more outspoken.

“Do you like him?” She asks.

You poke your tongue into your cheek, “well, I’ve barely spoken to him. He seems to like you though.”

Her cheeks bulb as she grins bashfully, “I love him.”

Your chest seizes as you recognize that glimmer in her eye. She’s genuine, she feels that love so deeply it consumes her. It’s a naive love but real nonetheless. The sort you can’t see for what it is until it turns sour.

“I can tell,” you reach forward to fix the bow on her headband, “I’m happy for you. And my offer still stands. Maybe if it’s not the wedding, a honeymoon, or help with a house…” you wet your lips and steady your voice, “I only want you to be happy, Addy– Adeline.”

“Oh, he’s just… he’s like that. I can’t even call him Curt. He balances me out,” she beams.

“Yeah,” you say noncommittally.

“What?” Her voice dampens.

“Nothing,” you distract yourself with the variety of tea bags in the wooden chest next to the breadbox, “it’s… a lot. I’m surprised, is all. I just hope it goes well.”

She sniffs and lets her breath out long and heavy, “I’m sorry, I knew– he kinda said you’d probably be upset. After Benny–”

“This has nothing to do with him,” you narrow your eyes at her, a bag of chai in your hand, “this is about you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“He’s so good to me, you don’t have to worry.”

“I can worry, you’re my baby sister,” you insist, “and…” You shake your head, refusing to let the thought escape.

“And what?” She challenges, her pitch squeaking.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. I can always tell when you’re dying to say something. What?”

You shrug, “it’s just… how old is he?”

She scoffs, “wow.”

“What? I’m just asking.”

“It’s not like he’s old enough to be dad,” she pouts and crosses her arms.

“I know, I didn’t mean– Ad–Adeline, I just— you have time to figure it out. So I hope you’re not rushing this.”

“I’m not,” she snips, an uncharacteristic edge in her voice.

“I believe you… but what about him?”

She’s quiet as the kettle clicks, signalling the boiling point. You turn and drop the tea bag into your cup and pour the water. She tears open the packet and empties it into her own mug.

“Sorry,” you utter, “forget it. I… I don’t know him so maybe I need to get to know him. I’m here, Ad, and I will always be here for you.”

She nods and reaches for the kettle, not looking at you.

“Really, I trust you. I just worry about you,” you clap your hand on her shoulder, “you’re my lil teddy bear.”

She chuckles and looks down at you, your statement made absurd by the difference in your heights.

“And you’re the big grizzly, scaring off the wolves,” she kids back.

“Adeline,” the deep rumble thunders in ahead of the man, making both of you jump. You pull back your hand as Curtis strides in, “hey, I’ve been waiting on you.”

“Oh, sorry, baby,” she preens at him, “I was just–”

“You said we’d call my family after dinner,” he interrupts.

“I forgot,” she squeals, “oh, I’m so sorry.” She glances over at you, “I did promise.”

“Go on,” you try to smile but you’re not sure it’s showing.

She spins and flits over to Curtis. His eyes meet yours over her shoulder. His brows arch as his jaw is set in stone. A chill runs up your spine at the ice in his dark pupils. He grabs Adeline’s hand and drags her out.

You’re left in silence. You look over at the unmixed powder floating in the steaming water. You chew your lip as you stare at it. It’s just hot chocolate but there’s something about her abandoning something she loves so much for him. You try not to let your own failed marriage echo over her relationship, but it just feels off.

Well, Benny always did say you never did handle change very well.

🎄

The night before Christmas is rarely a restful one. Even without the childish belief in Saint Nick, you find yourself awake, anxious but not for presents. You keep replaying the night through your head; not the awkward interactions with aunts and uncles, or the silent judgment from the younger crowd, but Adeline and Curtis. Let it go, it’s none of your business.

You huff and roll on your back. Sleep eludes you. You sit up and bend over the side of the bed. You hold your head. You’ll sneak out the bathroom and hopefully an empty bladder will help.

You drag your feet across the floor, the legs of your pajama pants too long and trailing down your feet. You open the door and yawn as you enter the hall, only to collide with another unexpected barrier. Before you can react, you’re being forced back into the guestroom, stumbling as your fingers claw at the door frame and slip off.

A hand smothers your mouth, rough against your lips, as a foot kicks the door shut with a sharp click. You murmur into the calloused flesh as an arm loops around your back, trapping you as you’re urged further into the dark. You grasp at the cotton clinging to muscular shoulder. You’re kept off balance by your attacker’s certainty.

“I fucking heard you,” Curtis’ silty grit seeps into your ears, “you think I’d hurt her?” He snarls as he stops you at the foot of the bed. His shadow looms over you, breath puffing from his nostrils as he growls like a beast, “I wouldn’t, but I’ll hurt you.”

He pushes you back so your legs meet the side of the bed. You teeter and clasp your hand around his wrist, squeaking as he easily takes you down onto the mattress. He pins you, your legs hanging off the end, kicking weakly as his other hand curves around your throat.

He bends over you, straddling your chest heavily. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds until your ears throb. Your temples pulse violently and your throat dries to a sandy scrape.

“Stay out of my fucking business,” he snarls, sliding down your body.

You whimper into his hand as he drops his knees off the bed, holding himself over you. He squeezes your neck, choking out your voice as he drags his hand from your mouth. He feels along your chest and flicks open the top button of your shirt. Your eyes wet in horror.

“Fucking show you…” he sneers as his breath scours over your flesh.

Another button undone as his lips tick along your shoulder. You squeak once more as he sinks his teeth into your flesh, biting a mean pinch until you spasm. The pain is unbearable. You feel the skin break as the hot flow of blood mingles with his spit.

He detaches only to bite you again. You can’t make a noise as his grip grows tighter on your neck. Even if you could scream, you’re too terrified and confused to understand what he’s doing. He’s like an animal tearing you apart.

He lays a tortured path down your chest, lingering on the rise of flesh, gnawing into the tenderness there. His nails dig into your side, pushing up your shirt as he scratches hot lines into your skin. You push on his shoulders desperately but he’s too strong.

“Stop filling her head with your bitterness,” he growls before he bites into your nipple.

You shake and beat on his head, shoulders, and back. You writhe and wrestle, trying to free yourself from him. He continues on, down your stomach, lingering on the soft flesh as his fingers hook into the elastic of your pants.

Your panic overflows with your tears. This can’t be happening. Why would he do this? He could talk to you? You would listen. You didn’t say anything wrong, you just want Adeline to be careful.

The very thought of your sister throttles you. Does he do this to her? Is this why she’s so defensive? The idea makes you sick to your stomach.

He lifts himself, his weight centering on your neck. You think he’ll crush your windpipe as he looms over you, snarling in the blackness. He pushes you higher onto the bed, forcing your legs open with his knees.

“Don’t make a fucking noise or I’ll make sure you can’t,” he threatens, giving a last squeeze before slowly slackening his grip.

You hold your breath. You believe him. Your body goes limp and you close your eyes. The bed shifts as he sits back on his heels. He pulls your pants down your thighs and you whine. He hushes you, a harsh tap across your cheek to get his point across.

You let your head drift to one side as you clench the blanket beneath you in tight fists. He keeps your legs trapped in your pants, knees bent as the fabric strains across his stomach. He tilts and movies around, his fingernails scratching the back of your thighs.

“Bet the husband couldn’t stand your fucking mouth,” he snarls as he pushes roughly against your cunt. “Didn’t know how to train you.” He jams two fingers into you, jolting your entire body, “dry bitch like you, he was probably thirsty as fuck.”

You seal your eyes tight, tears trickling through as a sob bubbles in your throat. You want to tell him to stop. You want to ask why. You want to scream. You can’t do anything as your body locks up.

He fingers you meanly, pulling his fingers out only to ram them in again, each time his knuckles hit you painfully. He keeps it up, growling with each intrusion as your muscles knots and pathetic noises rise from your throat.

He forces your legs higher, tearing his hand away from your pelvis. He adjusts his knees and you feel something else against your cunt.

“No…” you whisper right as he ruts into you.

He splits you apart around him. You let out a holler and he quickly silences you with a crack of his knuckles. The back of his hand snaps off your cheek and turns your head to the other side. You gulp and sob, choking back any noise that threatens to bubble over.

He holds himself as deep as he can. He puts his large hands on your shoulders and pins you flat. He bucks, agony rippling up your spine. He snaps his hips, again and again, each time harder than the last.

“This is what you need. So fucking jealous, aren’t you? Dried up old bitch,” he pumps into you as his breath picks up, “why kind of sister are you, huh? Fucking your baby sister’s man. Fucking slut.”

You cover your face and heave. You’re drowned in pain and humiliation. You’re disgusted with him for doing this to you; and yourself for letting him.

“You don’t wanna hurt her, do you?” He growls, “that’s why this is happening… cause you wanna keep her safe, right?”

He puts his hand against your head and pushes it down into the bed, fucking you into the mattress. The frame pounds the wall, matching his furious rhythm. You reach to brace his thick arm, begging silently for it to end.

“Oh, it’ll be over soon,” he rasps as his hand once more frames your throat, “fuck, you got me ready to blow quicker than I thought.” He puffs, each thrust rattling your bones, “I love how weak you are.”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #snowpiercer #au #christmas #naught or nice

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georgiapeach30513 · 9 months

Text

Much Too Fast, Part 1

Summary: Spotting Curtis Everett broke down on the side of the road, you just had to pick him up. Didn’t you?

Pairings: Curtis Everett X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, hitchhiking, drinking, PIV sex, dry humping, fingering, squirting, mentions of oral sex, early indications of a D/s relationship, cheating (?), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Series Masterlist

A/N: this is 100% one of @tis-thedamn-season brain. Not going to lie...I love it!

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Looking at the clock in your car you sigh. Getting closer to your destination every mile. Putting more and more space between you and the place you used to call home. This was the perfect opportunity to start a new life. You weren’t even running from anything, you just wanted to see more. Wanted to do more. Moving to a new state, a bigger city, and to a possible beautiful home.

There were still so many doubts. So many what if’s, but you were young. Your parents told you that you needed to take the chances you were given. Live life, and experience new things. More than the little podunk town on the opposite side of the United States. The east coast was going to give you more opportunities that is something you were sure of. That you were positive.

The current hope you had was to make it to your last hotel before the rain started. And then the last couple of hours to Boston. One more sleep, and you would be there. You needed to stay awake. Stay alert, and hope for the best.

Curtis on the other hand is annoyed. No service, and broke down on the side of the road. The rumble of thunder makes him even more irritated. He had just a few more hours on his mini road trip, and he would be home. And then this stupid old car broke down. He should have known better. A mechanic taking a stupid dumb car. Out in the middle of nowhere, with no fucking cell service.

He couldn’t even remember why he needed to take this trip every year. And in the predicament he’s in currently it just pisses him off. He leans on the hood of the car, hoping that someone will see him stranded. The chances were low. He knew he was probably going to be staying the night in the backseat. He was tired. He was agitated.

You squint your eyes in the distance, seeing a figure leaning onto a car. This is just like how every horror movie starts. But you feel the need to pull over. Slowing your Mini Cooper down, but staying on the road. It was a small two lane road, and you hadn’t seen a car on here for miles.

“Hey, uh…woah,” the man that approaches your car backs up quickly. “Sorry, I know this is going to sound lame and dumb, but you’re a young girl out here alone, and I don’t want you to feel that I’m trying to take advantage of you or chop you up for…this isn’t making you feel better is it?”

“No. Not at all,” what he was saying didn’t make you feel better, but how he was saying it did. “Are you having car trouble or do you normally just lean against your car hoping for someone to chop up?”

“Ah, you caught me,” he leans over, trying to get a good view of you, but still standing far enough away. “Although, my getaway car’s transmission went out. There’s no cell service here. Can’t even call my partner to come tow this damn car.”

“Your partner?” Curtis watches as your arm starts to relax a bit more. The grip on your steering wheel loosens up.

“Yeah, we own a garage together.”

“Imagine that, a mechanic with car trouble,” Curtis gives you a chuckle, stepping closer to your car. “Not much of a mechanic are you?” His arms rest on your open window, and against your better judgment, you still don’t tense up. “What are you doing out here?”

“I go on a road trip for about two weeks every year. I was almost home. Heading to Newton.”

“Me, too,” Curtis’ eyes drift up and down your front. He tries to make himself not look too much like a predator who had found its next prey, but you seriously were a gem. Out here all alone, in your tiny little car, loaded up with piles of shit. This car was too small for how much you had in here.

“Newton’s a few hours away, and it’s getting late.”

“Oh, I’ve got a hotel about twenty minutes up the road. Um…do you need a ride? I’m sure that they have a phone there. Seeing how there’s no service.”

“Uh, did your daddy not teach you not to pick up strangers?” Of course he did, but somehow this handsome stranger was making you feel comfortable.

“Should I be scared?”

“Of me? No, but isn’t that what a killer would tell you? I seriously mean you no harm, but I am questioning your judgment here. You got pepper spray or anything?” Nodding your head, you dig around in your cup holder holding it up. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?”

“You’re not making me feel better about this now. But the GPS does say the hotel is just up the road, less than an hour to go. Hand me your keys,” Curtis freely hands the car keys to you, and you stuff them in your doors pocket, unlocking the car, and letting Curtis clumsily get in.

Finally putting into perspective how long his legs are. Cramping them up, and sitting uncomfortably beside you. An adorable little giggle escapes your mouth, and he turns to glare at you, “You think this is funny? Why in the world do you have this tiny little car?”

“It’s adorable,” him squished up in the passenger seat was really adorable.

“It is useless for more than one person. Where are you driving from? Oh my god, how was this even comfortable? This is terrible. Please tell me this isn’t your only car. If my daughter ever asks for one of these it’s not just a no, it’s a hell no,” the fact he was already talking about a future daughter oddly makes you tremble. “What is the purpose of these cars?”

“Some of us don’t have legs that go on for days. You know, I didn’t even get your name?”

“It’s Curtis. And you are?” You quickly give him your name, and he shakes his head no, “You should be called Grace.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, you and this tiny little car are my saving Grace. Does she even get over fifty?”

“Yes. The bags of clothes in the back aren’t helping your space. Your seat isn’t as far back as it could be. Beggars can’t be choosers though. I’m from Washington state by the way. Why do you go on a road trip every year?”

Curtis is constantly adjusting his seating. Knees up higher than was normal, and pressing up against the dash of the car. Twenty minutes wasn’t a long drive. He could do this. “Uh, just to get away. Life can come at you fast. Mine didn’t exactly turn out the way I wanted it to. Without getting too into anything, I helped a friend out. We got ourselves stuck, drifted, and somehow remained friends, and we make it work. We have to.”

“I’m not going to ask.”

“Please don’t,” Curtis looks out his window, appearing as if something was bothering him, but you didn’t want to pry. If he wanted to tell you more he could. But you know he won’t. “So New England?” Finally he looks towards you, and you gulp. Gripping tighter to the steering wheel. Oddly trying to rub your thighs together. He was handsome. Too attractive.

“Yeah, sometimes you get tired of the same thing.”

“What’s a pretty girl like you, driving all the way out here for? I’m assuming you’ve got something lined up?” His deep blue eyes coast up and down your body, noticing every tiny movement in you make with a smirk. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. No, I uh — yeah, I’ve got something. Gotta meet with them, and would uh have a place to um…to live.”

“Hmm, you’re just breaking all kinds of rules, huh?” You glance back over to Curtis, and he was still eyeing you like his prey. His legs spread as much as they could, but in this tiny car, he couldn’t get the effect he was wanting. He didn’t have to try to make you want him. You wanted him.

“What?”

Curtis chuckles, wiping his thumb and middle fingers on the sides of his beard. You reach towards the air conditioner, turning it up. “You picked me up, and the way you’re talking…are they putting you up in a house?”

“Yeah. What…what do you do in Newton?” Something had to change. The topics had to go to something else besides you. It was getting more difficult to drive and pay attention.

“I told you, I’m a mechanic. Gotta garage with my buddy, Jax. We stay busy. Blue collar work. Beats the traveling bullshit. I don’t get it. Traveling for work. Traveling because you want a vacation. On your own.”

“Did you just get off a two week road trip?”

He turns to look at you, that devilish grin still there, “I like you.”

“Why?”

“Called me out on my own bullshit quickly. A lot of people won’t do that. They say I’m too argumentative. I’m not. I’m blunt, there’s a difference. Isn’t that the damn hotel?”

“Yeah,” you respond. Turning into the hotel and the gravel crunches under your tires, and you hate that this is it. Curtis was about to make a call, and get something worked out, and this would be it. You grab your backpack, and walk in with Curtis.

He allows you to check in before stepping up to the counter, “I need a room for the night.”

“I’m sorry, sir, we have no more vacancies.”

“There’s…can I just — I guess hang out in your lobby then. I gotta call someone in the morning to help with my car, and…”

“I’m sorry, sir, no loitering. Have a good evening,” she walks off, and goes back to her seat. Picking up her phone, and letting Curtis know that the conversation was over.

“Just my luck. Damn. Thanks, here let me get you some money. I’ll…hell, I don’t know, start walking.”

“It’s two in the morning,” biting at your lip, you know this is the most bizarre and ridiculous thing you have ever done. He was nice. He was hot as fuck. And you were terrified. Not of him, but of moving here. Moving away from what you knew and into the unknown. All the warnings you push back in your mind. You had made it this far, and he hadn’t killed you.

“I know, darling. I’ve been in worse places.”

“No, I mean…I’ve got a second bed,” Curtis cocks his brow up at you, and you slowly exhale. It was okay. You needed something random and fun tonight. Needed to get out of your head, and Curtis looked like just the man. And the worst he could say was no, and you would never see him again.

“Hey, it’s fine. You’ve done plenty for me, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“Then let me rephrase it; would you like to come up to my room for a drink? There’s a mini bar.”

“You’re testing fate?”

“I see a sexy man with nowhere else to go tonight. And I want a drink with him. There’s two beds,” he gives you a bow, and you start walking towards the elevators. Everything's in slow motion. Down to the roaming eyes of Curtis. Licking his lips as he stares at you, and you are quaking.

“C’mere,” he whispers when the elevator door closes, and you walk over to him. His thumb brushes over your cheek gently. Looking into your eyes as he traces your pouting lips, “You’re shaking. I won’t hurt you, and I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. There’s two beds, remember?”

“I want to use one.”

“Then breathe,” the ding of the elevator has his hand drifting down your front, and grabbing your hand. Starting to lead the way to the room. “Key?” You hand him the key, and take your final breath. You invited him.

The second the door closes, your hand glides up his chest, settling behind his neck, “No mini bar?”

“Oh, that’s right,” he sighs when you step away from him, going to the bar to get two small bottles of liquor, “Tito’s or Jack Daniels?”

“I’ll take my chances with Jack. Join me on the bed?” He plops down, and taps on the bed. Waiting on you to join him before lifting up his bottle, “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” you copy, drinking the vodka in one sip. The little bit of alcohol was giving you a bit more of a confidence boost. Looking up at him as you listen to him start to tell some story.

You lean more into him, trying to listen to his words, but it is just static. Curtis looks down at his lap, and his raspy voice moans. You check to see what he was staring at, and your hand is palming him over his jeans on it’s own accord, “Is this okay?” You ask him with a pout. Had you read all the signs wrong? He knew what you were talking about, right?

“I knew exactly where this was going when you asked me for a drink.”

“Oh,” you start to move your hand, but Curtis grabs yours with his own mitt sized hand. Placing it back over his swollen jeans, and starts your motions again. “I don’t normally do this.”

“Me neither. So lets for tonight, toss aside those pesky feelings telling us not to give into our primal needs as humans. We’ve both been checking each other out tonight, so let’s act on those needs. Okay?” You nod your head at him, adding a bit more pressure to your movement, “Why now?” He asks, groaning as he leans back on the bed. Watching you enjoy his hardening member.

“I don’t want to be the person I was in Washington. I want to have fun. Be spontaneous.”

“Mmm,” his hips start rocking into the air with your movements. When you start to undo his zippe, he tugs at your leg, guiding you to straddle him. His giant sized hands rub up your thighs and to your ass, coaxing you to start grinding on him.

“So picking up men on the side of the road isn’t a normal thing?”

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head with a smirk. Getting more into the movements, and you pull off your shirt. Reaching behind you to undo your bra, you let it fall to the floor as Curtis starts groping your tits.

“Well isn’t today my lucky day?” Sitting up in bed, he pulls you closer to him. Peppering kisses along your jaw, and creating a trail all the way to your mouth, and you whimper into him. His length was right at your core, and he was throbbing. Just as needy as you. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Curtis,” you whine as your hips gyrate over him. Making a mess of his pants already. It had been awhile since you had sex. He had his thick fingers gripping the spears of your ass, and pressing you harder on him. “Do…do you…” you can hardly speak from the kisses he was continuing to assault you with.

“I always carry protection, don’t worry.”

“Curtis, you’re hard.”

“And you’re wet. What are you going to do about it?” He gives both your nipples a quick pinch, and your movements pick up. Riding on top of him like your life depended on it.

“I wanna come.”

“Just like this, little lady?”

“Uh huh,” biting at your lip, you pout at him as you move.

“Then make yourself come. Enjoy yourself. I’m not a little boy, I can hold off,” he lets out a guttural moan when you circle your hips over him. Guiding his hands to your tits, wanting him to play with you while you get off.

You are soaked, and so close. Right there. Hands on his shoulders as your desperately rub one out over him. Fire courses through your veins, and your movement stutters as the sweetest pleasure races through your veins.

“Thatta, girl,” reaching into his pocket, he pulls a packet out, and reads the expiration date, “Still good,” you crash your lips into his. Hands rubbing over him before pushing off his jacket, while he yanks your jeans open.

He flips you over onto the bed, and stands up. Watching as you struggle to tug your jeans off, but Curtis reaches towards them, yanking both the jeans and panties off at once, hissing when you spread your legs apart.

“Good fucking, girl,” he walks out of his jeans, his cock making his boxer briefs look uncomfortably crowded. He gives you a wink when he pulls his underwear down. A thick and heavy cock springs up, and you yip, your legs starting to close.

“You changing your mind already?”

“No,” you wanted him. Wanted this. But that cock was thick. Almost able to envision the severe stretch he was going to give you.

“You can take it. And if not, I can make it fit. We can stop any time, okay?” You nod your head, trying to steady your breathing, “I need your words. I need to know that you can stop me if you want to stop.”

“Yes. We can stop at any time,” Curtis pops the packet in his mouth, giving the foil a tear. His lithe fingers place the rubber on his tip, and he starts to roll it on. Pressing his knee on the bed, he gives your leg a jerk down the bed, before his wide body kneels between your thighs.

Spitting on his Hanford before roaming his fingers through your folds, “You are drenched. When did you first get wet?”

“Well…”

“It wouldn’t have been in the car, would it? I saw you moving your legs,” he pushes two fingers into your weeping cunt while his palm stimulates your clit, “Oh my god. What a tight little pussy we have here. You hear that?” He pumps his fingers into you more vigorously. Your wet heat was making the most vulgar and loud squelching sounds.

“You are a sloppy, little one. Did I make you that wet? Oh god, you need to be fucked good and hard, don’t you?”

“Yes, please,” you beg. It had been too long. Almost two years. One bad breakup had turned you away from men, but now he had you turning into a big slut. His cock forgotten as he tries to ruin you. Sex before was all about your boyfriend. Curtis wanted your pleasure first. “Please, Curtis.”

“She’s polite, too. Oh, fuck, she’s a juicy one. Mmm, I already feel you squeezing me. Come on. Uhh, come on,” his fingers curl, and he sets off at an earth shattering speed. You try to close your thighs when you can’t take anymore, but Curtis shoves them back apart. “Come on. Give it to me. When you come, I’ll fuck you. You can do it. Come for me. You're so close.”

Your hands grab onto the comforter, and you grit your teeth, not wanting to be too loud. And when you squirt onto his thighs, he keeps pumping. “There ya go! There’s a good fucking girl. Just like that.”

“Oh fuck.’

“That’s what I’m going to do,” getting closer to you, he slaps his cock over your clit, “You still want this?”

“Yes, please.”

“She is well behaved,” your mouth goes slack as Curtis pushes through your entrance. Slowly splitting you open as you whimper. “Holy shit. My god, you’re a tight little thing.”

“Don’t stop,” you plead as he slows his motion. “All the way, please,” Curtis continues his journey into your body. Not stopping until he slides all the way in. You lift off the bed, staring at where the two of you connect. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving your cunt a moment to stretch, little lady. You okay?” You furrow your brows, biting your lip as you nod. “You never had a big dick like this?”

“It’s like a fucking traffic cone,” Curtis’ eyes close as he chuckles at you.

“A traffic cone?”

“It’s so much bigger at the base. How…how did you get it in there?”

“And looka here,” his hand rubs over a bump on your stomach, “You feel me all the way in your belly, huh? That right there is where I’m at. So you want this traffic cone to fuck you?”

“My god, yes!”

“Mmm,” his hands rub up and down your thighs. Giving the tops of your legs the sweetest little tickles before sliding to the backside of your knees. Lifting your legs before slamming them on the bed beside your body. Keeping you good and spread so he can watch himself spear into you.

His thrusts are slow and deliberate. Drawing himself all the way out before plunging back in. Your hands hold onto his wrists, and you make the most beautiful desperate sounds. Scratching down his forearms when he picks up his speed. It felt as if he was pounding his entire weight into you. Bouncing you further up the bed.

He would love to see you riding his cock, but your pitiful little whimpers and whines of his name have him addicted. You are reactive. He gets to see your tits rock with the pounds into you. He didn’t do this shit. And after the year he had, it was what he needed. He needed this warmth. He hadn’t felt more alone and all while he was with someone, and you were just what he needed.

He hadn’t felt this wanted in a while. Sex was treated as more of a chore. Not this desperate need to get off. It hadn’t been exciting. It was predictable. It was when she needed it. But you are receiving every bit of him. With the way you are pouting at him, and keeping your eyes only on him, he knows he could have you doing whatever he wanted you to.

Completely into a submissive role, and you didn’t even know him. “Curtis!” Your whispered screams are giving him life. The walls of your cunt flutter around him making him completely weak. He wanted to keep you around. Newton wasn’t too big. But just one night was never going to be enough.

“Curtis!” Whining out his name as your head tilts back.

“You keep…keep squeezing me like that, and I’m not — not going to last,” he pants out. He had never felt someone react like this. “Let go, little darling. Let go for me.”

Your pussy quivers, and legs tremble as the hardest orgasm he has ever witnessed from a woman flows through your body. You clench around him, and his forehead collapses on your shoulder. Letting your pussy milk him dry. Hugging every part of him perfect, convulsing around him so hard that he didn’t have to fuck you. Your walls make sure every drip of his spend fills up the condom, and he can only deeply breathe on you.

“That. Was. Incredible. You breathing?”

“Barely,” you choke out. “How many condoms do you have?”

“Sorry. I just got the one. Whew,” he sits back up in the bed, and slowly pulls out of you. Your cream coated his length so thickly. “My god. Oh my god. I didn’t want to leave you.”

Leaving your legs spread, your eyes start to drift closed. He figures you have been driving for a long time. You look so peaceful, comfortable. Letting your gaping hole be fully visible for him to gaze at. When he starts to lay on the other bed, you jolt up, “Sleep in this bed.”

“There’s two beds.”

“Then we’ll sleep in that one. This one is messy,” Curtis shakes his head with a smile. Pulling the blankets down in the other bed before picking you up bridal style.

“Fine, you twisted my arm. I need you to have at least panties on. Where’s a clean pair?”

“Backpack,” he pulls on his own underwear before bringing your backpack over to you. “Where are you going?”

“You need water. Panties. Then sleep.”

“Okay,” you even shimmy your shoulders. It didn’t take much to make you happy. He definitely wanted to see you again. Maybe start from the beginning and take you out on a date. Spend some time together before he tells you about his complicated life. But for tonight, he was just going to lay down beside you.

Sending a text to Jax, he crawls in the bed with you. He didn’t know why you are so comfortable, but holding a soft woman for the night isn’t something he was going to complain about. He was just going to let you sleep. Rest. Tomorrow was a new day.

Pulling into the beautiful home, you crumple up that piece of paper, and toss it into the floorboard. You knew it was too good to be true, and are slightly annoyed for getting your hopes up. He was a man that you picked up on the side of the road, and had the best sex of your life. Curtis was generous enough to leave his number on the pad of paper at the hotel, but you woke up alone. Nothing was stolen, so you are thankful for that, and that you are still alive.

And now it was back to the reason why you were here. A ridiculously large house, and what waits inside. They had to be rich. A well dressed woman, holding a baby, swings the door open wide. Her arm flails around as she waves to you, “Oh my gosh! I was so scared that you wouldn’t come, and you are early. Come on, please. Hey,” she gives you a strong handshake, and then makes her baby wave to you.

“Ah!! I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’m Tati, and this sweet, beautiful, perfect, and angelic little thing is Poet. But she will also go by Poe. Poe, can you say hey,” the baby babbles a bit, but a hey does come out. “So, I know this kind of a last minute thing. We gotta wait on my…husband. I’m having to fly out unexpectedly. Oh, but don’t think that you have to definitely take the job. My parents said they can help. He’s taking the day off. Uh, so first things first, if you say yes, you will have the pool house. It’s a fully functioning house. I don’t travel too often, but a fair amount. The times that I do, at night, her daddy will have her.”

“Dada,” Poet whispers. She giggles a bit before hiding her face on her mom’s shoulder. Slowly peeking over at you grinning, and you give her a sweet smile.

“Obviously the whole house you will have access to. Poet’s room is downstairs. Your background check is impeccable, you’re up to date with your immunizations, speak French. Honestly on paper you’re perfect, so I’m expecting you to have some flaws somewhere. Anyways, ahh! Sweet girl, guess who is here?” She looks out the window, smiling down at her adorable baby.

“Dada! Aye!”

“Yay!! Daddy is going to be with you all day today. How exciting!”

“Aye!” She claps her hands. Her mouth moving with no words. She was a daddy’s girl.

You turn towards the door with Tati, and your heart drops. In walks the sexiest man that you have ever met. The man that you could still feel all over you. The man that had left you early in the morning, leaving you alone. The man who was your possible employer’s husband.

“Curtis, I hate to do this. But I got called out at the last minute. You know. Anyways, thank you for taking the day off. I’ll be back in two days. If you decide you want the job, Curtis can give you all the lock codes. I left a list of Poe’s medicine’s and allergies on the fridge. Emergency numbers on the hall calendar. There’s a book with all the main contact numbers on it, but Curtis can show you everything else. Eeee!! I hope you decide to stay. Poe can’t quit looking at you. I think that she likes you. Anyways, bye my sweet angel. Ah, you’re such a saving grace. Thank you so much. Bye.”

She gives Curtis a kiss to his cheek before grabbing her suitcase by the door. Continuing to blow kisses to her baby as she walks out, and you and Curtis are left staring awkwardly at one another.

“Dadadadada.”

“I’m her daddy.”

“Mhmmm,” that much was obvious. What wasn’t obvious was that he was married as he was fucking into you last night. You even gave him in the middle of the night head, and he fingered you back to sleep.

“Oh, so we’re going to be like that now? I had you saying please all night last night.”

“Ugh,” this was a bad idea. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Nothing was going to be different here. It was always going to be the same.

“Can you at least let me explain? You gotta. Look at this beautiful girl. Poet Isabella, can you tell Grace, please?”

“Peas,” she whispers, her chunky little legs kicking around.

“You can’t say no to that. When you said please, didn’t I listen?” He might have listened, but he left out that he was married. He was fucking married to your maybe employer. He was married, and he was inside of you.

“This…this is very different and you know,” he shrugs his shoulders. Walking over to a fenced in area, and he sits his daughter down. His eyes looking at her, completely ignoring you. “Fine. Explain.”

“What happened to those manners?” Oh, he was an asshole. You didn’t have to listen to this. Didn’t have to put up with this, and then he purposefully places his left hand where you can see it, and you sit down on the couch.

“Please, explain.”

“Thatta girl.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87

#much too fast #mechanic au #mechanic!curtis everett #curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x fem!reader #curtis everett x y/n #curtis everett x you #curtis everett smut #curtis everett fic #curtis everett fics #curtis everett fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #snowpiercer

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krirebr · 4 months

Text

I Know I Should Know Better Masterlist

Summary: Curtis has been working as your bodyguard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), drinking, explicit language, bad boyfriend, self-destructive behavior, anxiety, negative self-talk. The reader's having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

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Five

Series in progress

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Reader Gets Jealous

Reader Comforts Curtis

#series masterlist #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #ce characters #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #reader insert #bodyguard au #series #i know i should know better

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abbatoirablaze · 9 months

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Locked Up, Chapter 1

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: taboo relationships, sexual situations, mentions of crimes/murder, noncon, teasing, manipulation, forced stimulation.

“Who the hell are you, kitten?” the inmate smirked, “Reyes get himself a sexy little piece of ass to watch while he’s judgin’ us?”

You frowned.

Ransom Drysdale

He was put away for the murder of his eccentric billionaire grandfather who was both a well-known published writer, and the head of a major publishing company. It was an irony, considering both the company and the murdered man were all about murder mysteries.

“Doctor Reyes has retired, Mr. Drysdale,” you replied, not acknowledging his more vulgar statements, “I’m your new doctor. This is to be our introductory meeting.”

He smirked a little bit wider, his teeth making him look like a wolf hunting his prey, “tell me, doc…am I popping your cherry? Am I that lucky man that just gets to slide in and be the first one before those other animals leave you a gaping mess?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, not giving him the satisfaction of being your first patient, “I’ve already met with a few other men on your cell block. You’re oddly present in everyone’s lives…I’m sure you’ve seen them coming and going today.”

“Jensen and Levinson don’t count,” he scoffed, admitting to you that he had indeed noticed the two men coming and going, “they’ve committed petty crimes at best…and Levinson and Jensen are easy to diagnose. Levinson has authority and impulse issues. Jensen is just pathetic. Can’t talk to anything with a vagina because he falls in love with it. That one has more abandonment issues than I have money.”

“You don’t have any money, Mr. Drysdale,” you reminded him sweetly, “your assets have been frozen since your arraignment…mommy dearest pays for everything, remember? And as far as my other patients are concerned, none of them matter right now. Right now, you are my main priority.”

“Oh, am I?” he teased; his voice sounding more grating the longer you were with him, “do me a favor then. Be a good girl and get on your knees…it’s been a while since a pretty little mouth like yours was wrapped around my cock…or better yet, bend over. Show me just how much of a priority I am by letting that tight, wound-up little cunt choke my cock. You’re no socialite, but I bet if you let me, I’d have you moaning like those other little sluts in no time.”

Behind you, the officers were chuckling. You shot them a glare but said nothing.

“Come on now, kitten…cat got your tongue?” Ransom teased as he kicked his feet up and onto your desk, “I’m just getting started…so you really need to learn to keep up. That or learn your place.”

He spread his legs a little bit, as though he was inviting you to get on your knees in front of him and start sucking him off right then and there.

“And what is my place, Mr. Drysdale.”

“Women,” Ransom chuckled, looking back to his guards. He shook his head before turning back to you, “I’ve already told you, kitten. On your knees or bent over your desk…I’m not picky…not in here. So, what do you say you just give in and accept your real role…be a good girl for me.”

“I think that our session is over, Mr. Drysdale,” you answered after a moment. You caught the small pout that worked its way onto his lips as you grabbed his folder and slipped to the window, now outwardly putting distance between yourselves while also showing that you were no longer paying attention to what he said. He sucked in a bit of air while you stretched out on your cushion by the window and began writing. You were fully aware of how your skirt had slid up just enough for him to see the edge of your garter belt and you smirked to yourself, knowing it would torture him, “officers, I’m done with this inmate…you can bring in the next one after lunch.”

“Wait!” Ransom said quickly, slamming his feet back to the ground. He looked at you wildly, “we’re not done here. A session is half an hour, an hour if Reyes really got me going…we’ve only been here for ten minutes. I-If that.”

“Well Mr. Drysdale, you see…I’ve already lost interest in whatever it is that you have to say,” you shrugged, still not looking at him. You felt his eyes trailing up and down your body, but you didn’t dare look at him, “I don’t need any more time to figure you o-“

“Look at me god damn it,” he growled, snapping his arms loud enough to make the chains cause a commotion. Your eyes flicked to his, and you could see the rage simmering beneath the surface, “you haven’t figured me out, you little bitch. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” you replied with a simple shrug. You placed your legs back on the ground, your heels clicking his attention back to your legs. Your hands worked to smooth your skirt out as you stood, hiding your undergarments from him, “you’re narcissistic. Textbook matter of fact. You’re probably the least interesting man I’ve interviewed thus far. But don’t worry Mr. Drysdale…we can discuss that at your appointment…next week.”

“You little bitch!” he spat as the guards started in on him, “you vicious little bitch.”

“Have a good week, Mr. Drysdale…” you offered as you left the folder at the window and started back towards your desk.

“Thank you…I can take it from here, officer.”

The guard gave you a wary look before giving the other guard who held onto the prisoner’s left arm a sideways glance.

“You sure, doc?” the second guard asked gently. He eyed up the behemoth of a man, “Inmate Everett is-“

“Here for evaluation after six consecutive trips to solitary for aggression related issues and write-ups,” you began, cutting the guard off. You waved your hand dismissively in the air, “yes…I’ve read up on Mr. Everett. I’m fully aware of what he is capable of. Thank you.”

“Then you know we can’t just leave you alone in your office with him,” the second guard reminded you, “he’s a dangerous man, ma’am…and no offense, but you’re a little bitty thing. Even Reyes had us with him when Everett was here.”

“Mr. Everett is no threat to me…”

The silent inmate finally looked down at you.

He covered his own shock over your brazen attitude well enough, but he had to admit, you were an itty-bitty thing. You looked all business even with the skirt and blazer hugging your every curve. He knew that you couldn’t have been anywhere close to him, but there was something about you that made him feel like you two were on even playing field, despite his size.

Then again, anyone next to the 6’8” giant seemed to be tiny.

“Inmate Everett is a dangerous man, doc... I don’t think you’re hearing my partner here!” the first man jumped back in, stressing the fact that Curtis wasn’t some man off the street seeking some counseling over something silly, “we’re over here, trying to make sure that you don’t end up the next addition to his body count.”

“If you bothered learning about your inmates, you’d know that Mr. Everett’s crimes are all against men, not women,” you reminded the two male guards on either side of your new patient, “before that, Mr. Everett worked for the city as an engineer…he was-”

“Look, you wanna be left alone with the psycho, that’s on you…” the man finally growled, shoving his arm off the inmate. Curtis sneered over his shoulder and the guard took a step back, “but I don’t wanna be hearing no pissin’ and moaning when that psycho attacks you and tears you to shreds…me and Connors here won’t be rushin’ in to save you!”

You looked to the younger guard, who still had his hand on your patient’s arm, “Connors?”

“Ma’am, I really don’t think this is a good idea!”

“Don’t worry, it’s dually noted,” you sighed impatiently, “if it makes you feel better you can link up his chains.”

The guard gave a nervous nod before taking a step forward.

Curtis turned his attention to him, and Connors stopped, “Maybe…maybe we just watch you get him in, and I give you the keys…yeah?”

You held out your hand, and Connors pulled the lone key from his pocket. You took it, and stepped away from the door, opening it wider, “after you, Mr. Everett…”

He looked at you again, taking you in.

You were new.

He knew that.

He’d been in the prison for a year and a half already and spent more time in the stuffy office than he cared to admit. But before he went into solitary, he remembered it belonging to an older man.

You were anything but the older man.

A little minx wrapped in business attire.

But even then, you were subtly teasing him.

He could see the red lace peaking out from your blouse, the top buttons undone from the summer’s unbearable heatwave. His eyes snapped back to yours when you cleared your throat.

You sensed his hesitation, and you opened the door a little more, “we only have a limited amount of time, Mr. Everett…please come in.”

Curtis obliged your request and stepped through the entrance.

Long gone was the layer of dust along the windowsill. You had dressed it up, ignoring the bars on the outside of the ledge, and had added a padded cushion. Beside it, he could already see notes from another case. He scoffed to himself when he noticed Drysdale’s name scribbled at the top.

You followed him over to the chair, which was no longer a metal one. Instead, it had been replaced with a soft, velvety looking one. A shiver ran down his spine when he sat, his hands immediately, instinctively going out.

You were already waiting on him and had caught his large hands in your own small ones.

“Please stay still so that I can unlock your belt and secure you to the bolt in the floor, Mr. Everett.”

He made no acknowledgement that he’d even heard you.

You were quick to reach around his arms, tucking yourself beneath him while you reached for the lock. His eyes closed, if only for a moment, and your scent wrapped around him, disarming him from whatever he thought the session was going to be.

You smelled like his favorite season, autumn. He got another waft of sweet apples and crisp leaves before you were bending away from him, taking the lead of his chain to connect it to the floor.

He couldn’t help but notice how your skirt hugged the curves of your ass and your childbearing hips. He shifted slightly and bit back the groan that wanted to break free from his throat as he caught yet another glimpse of your cleavage.

His cock twitched as he imagined a little thing like you wrapped around him.

You were positively sinful.

Here he was, living in his own personal hell, and you were just dangling in front of him like a tasty little treat. It was like he’d been stranded in the desert, and you were a mirage, teasing him with something he never realized he’d missed outside of prison.

“He’s secure…you may leave.”

The first guard was off, already cursing you, but Connors was a little more reluctant.

That was until you closed the door.

Curtis caught himself listening for the click of your heels. His eyes closed once more, and your perfume came wafting back to him. Curtis looked over his shoulder, towards the window. You had picked up the notes, and folded the file shut, before dropping it on your desk. His eyes followed you as you walked around it and sat down. In between the two of you was his folder, wide open. He could make out his picture on the document stapled to the inside, “studying up on the psychotic murderers of B block?”

“Excuse me?”

“Drysdale,” he said dryly, nodding to the file, “he’s on my block too. Murdered his grandfather…but that was for a few bucks…we’re not the same…”

“I never said that you were.”

“Who’s next on your list to meet with?” Curtis asked abruptly, changing the subject, “Rogers? Barnes?”

“Client patient confidentiality, Mr. Everett!”

He smirked, “be careful with em…Rogers is as disgusting as they come…seems like a sweet guy…guess he and Barnes were real ladies’ men on the outside…you know…before they became serial killers…before Rogers cut off Barnes’ arm when he realized the good ole sergeant was done and ready to confess his crimes.”

Your cool facade broke at his blatant discussion of the other inmates, “Wh-what?”

He smirked, “Captain Steve Rogers…the guy’s a real prick about his title. Both of em are. Last time I was stuck in solitary with him he was braggin’ about how Barnes is his bitch…said that he kept him in line by chopping off his left arm before their trials…Barnes was ready to play ball with the ADA…that Barber guy. You want a good case; you’ll find it in one of them…Drysdale’s not interesting. I’m not interesting.”

“I never said that you were or weren’t interesting, Mr. Everett,” you said after a moment. You flipped your notebook to a new page and began writing, “not that I’m saying that you aren’t…but it’s interesting to me that you are jumping around like this. Jealousy over me having other patients? We just met, Mr. Everett.”

“I’m not jealous…you want to know someone who’s jealous-“

“Deflection,” you smirked, stopping your writing as you looked into his seafoam eyes, “Mr. Everett did Doctor Reyes leave without telling you he was retiring?”

“I never gave a damn about that guy,” he shrugged offhandedly, “never said more than a sentence to him.”

“And yet…you seem to have no communication problems with me…”

“Am I supposed to?”

“Well…you’re having some sort of communication issues,” you pointed out, “six times in solitary since you were here. And your last stint was a month and a half for attacking a guard.”

He shrugged, “I didn’t like the way that he was looking at me…”

“And how was he looking at you, Mr. Everett?”

“Stop that bullshit stuff,” he groaned tiredly, “call me Curtis…not Mr. Everett.”

“How was he looking at you, Curtis?”

“Like an animal,” he answered honestly, giving you a look, “sort of how you see me.”

“You like putting words in my mouth, don’t you, Curtis?”

“I’d like to put something in your mouth,” he admitted unashamed as he tried using his own methods to put a little distance between the two of you. He realized just how much he’d been speaking, and he frowned. There was something about you that made him all too willing to speak; something that broke his walls down instantaneously, “I-“

“Stop,” you said firmly, cutting him off. Curtis looked at you, his brow furrowing, “when it’s the two of us, there will be no grandstanding…no using vulgar language. This is just a place for open and honest communication. I think that’s something you can respect, yes?”

“I was being honest,” Curtis smirked, leaning forward. You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure of what game he was playing at. You’d already dealt with Ransom Drysdale this afternoon, and he’d made a very similar statement. You were about to open your mouth and Curtis leaned his elbows on your desk, “how is a sexy little minx like you a doctor, huh? You realize that you’re that good at getting into people’s head and living there rent-free that you just said, ‘I’m going to do this from now on?’ And the way that mouth’s parted right now…what would you say if I told you about when you were doing my chains, the only thing that ran through my mind was how good you smelled…how it would be to have you not just bent over, but on your knees for me…falling apart on my-”

“Mr. Everett…”

“Curtis…sweetheart…”

“Maybe we should have our session another time, Curtis…when you realize that you need to have some manners when you talk to me.”

“I thought you said you wanted open and honest communication…”

“About you, Mr. Everett,” you answered, leaning back into your seat, “not me…or rather, what you would like to do to me.”

“Oh, honey…you on your knees…that would all be about me. Don’t be confused, thinking that any of it would be for your benefit,” he growled seductively. He held back his smile when he noticed how your hands had been folded in your lap, but you moved them only to cross your legs. A smirk built up on his face when he saw your thighs clenching together. He licked his lips, “you’re a dirty little minx, doc…aren’t you? You thinking about riding my cock? About becoming a drooling little ragdoll while I fucked the brain out of your pretty little head…is that why you really took a job in a men’s prison? Want to live in our heads rent free until we all go crazy and fuck you?”

“This conversation is over, Mr. Everett.”

“Curtis, honey,” he said in a gravelly voice. You couldn’t hold back the whimper as it escaped the back of your throat, “you know, normally, I’d tell you that you need to be a good girl and follow my requests…answer my questions then get on your knees and suck the soul out of me…but I think I like it better knowing that you’re a little brat…I’d love to just fuck that out of you…”

“G-goodbye Mr. Everett.”

You were quick to rush past him, already reaching for the door, but his hand reached out and he grabbed you, pulling you back to him with such force that you tumbled onto his lap. Your eyes went wide, and he could feel your heart slamming against your chest. Your heart was beating so quickly.

“Little hummingbird are you afraid of me?” he teased, “or just afraid that you like the way I speak to you?”

He bounced his knee and your hands reached down to balance yourself on his large thigh. He could feel the heat between your legs. Your skirt had ridden up so that he could see the full garter. With another smirk, he reached down, snapping the material against your inner thigh. He felt your core clenching around nothing and a moan pass from your lips.

You scrambled, hurriedly, off his lap, falling to the floor.

“Little hummingbird…we weren’t done!” he teased.

Curtis chuckled to himself, watching as you scattered out of the room, and as the door closed behind him.

“Too easy…”

Chapter 2

Tag List: @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72

#locked up #prison au #ransom drysdale #knives out au #knives out #dark curtis everett x reader #dark curtis everett #curtis everett #snowpiercer au #snowpiercer

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 9 months

Text

Evening Quiet

A Curtis x Honey Drabble.

1.5k What makes a house a home? The people.

Warnings- mention of sexual activity.

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

Yes you were glad to be home.

Vacationing was always nice, getting away to see someplace new was always exciting. Florida proved to be just what was needed to battle the winter chill with its sandy beaches and endless amounts of sunshine that for you and Curtis seemed a blessing.

After battling the freezing ice and snow of Duluth, Florida’s weather seemed like summertime to the two of you.

There were nights of firepit and beers in the backyard, lazing around on a yacht that Frank was currently working on, some shopping to be had, and the food, you were greatly missing the taco truck right about now.

But all that said, you were glad to be home. Right now home wasn’t your third-floor apartment in downtown Duluth. It was curled up on Curtis' couch, watching a television documentary about a haunted house in Pennsylvania where the ghost team started talking about the history associated with the residence. Outside, big heavy flakes slammed against the window like they were trying to escape the cold too, but the clear glass on the picture window was keeping you and Curtis safe.

Wrapped around your legs was the afghan off the back of the couch, Curtis’s hand was resting on the curve of your waist, his fingertips lightly grazing the bit of skin peeping from your pajamas you had spent most of the day wearing and nearby the small wood stove he used for the first floor chill was popping once in a while as the wood provided them with sleep inducing warmth.

Your head was laid down on his thigh, the very motion of his fingers and the warmth under the blanket making your eyes slip close once in a while in complete blissful calm.

It was settling in the way that this felt like where you were supposed to be at the end of your day. You didn’t even realize that the simple motion of letting your eyes close and give in to that feeling would make your breathing grow heavier and you completely lost track of the show.

Curtis noticed though, because that last bit of tension seeped from you and finally you let yourself sink into his lap. He could feel the warmth of your breath’s sink into the fabric of his black jeans while sleep seemed to sneak up on you.

He couldn’t resist letting his fingers slip further down, without any intentions other than to rub at your hip, the soothing sensation making you stretch a bit in a moan at the comforting touch he provided. His gaze stayed on the tv for the most part, being interested in the findings and history of the old homestead that actually reminded him of his own home.

He wondered where his house's ghosts were wandering around tonight. He had heard a few creaks earlier on the stairs, which might be from the cold snapping the house's old bones outside, but it was easier to let himself think it was Wilford and Lillian appreciating what he was doing with their loved home.

It certainly has all come back to life since you came into the picture. His weekends no longer consisted of him all alone, but you were there with your endless amounts of sewing projects and script rewrites for your drama club, working on your next science-themed project for your classroom, the scattering of your books from the living room to the upstairs nightstand where you never seemed to bring them home to finish reading and he never mentioned it simply because he liked to read them too before going to sleep. His little Honey had some erotic reading tastes that he fully intended to use on you.

Like the recent chapter, he read the other night while you were back at your apartment gave a very detailed description of using paints in foreplay. He chuckled softly to himself imagining the painting the two of you would make, hung up for no one to know.

His amusement with his thoughts must have woken you, cause you stirred just a bit, shifting to roll to your back and look up at him, blinking sleepily at him for a moment. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, just thinking about how good you would look covered in paint while I was having my way with you.” Curtis said matter of factly while watching the ending of the show with his eyes half shut like he was also starting to fall asleep.

You blinked at him a moment while his gaze drifted almost lazily down to where you were laid on his lap, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes giving away his amusement at the way your face heated up. Your brows twisted for a moment in thought as you clearly recalled reading something very similar. “Did you read my book?”

A grin cracked on his face with a suggestive arch of his brows that said he clearly did and you gasped when he swooped down to steal a kiss from you. “Honey, you want me to kiss and tell?”

You gave a teasing little snort as you went cross eyed staring up at him. “They are for educational purposes.”

Curtis straightened back to a sit, his fingers dancing along your neck and massaging into your hair at the base of your scalp, it felt so good that you let yourself get slightly distracted by it. “Oh I know you are getting quite the education from it. I can’t wait to reap the benefits.”

You again felt your face heating up, knowing exactly what things he read in your books. All the kinky little smut fests that had supposed plot lines leading up to all of them. Your hands covered your face with a groan, peeking up between your fingers. “You weren’t supposed to learn my dirty secret.”

Curtis clicked the tv off, his features turning thoughtful at your words. “Why is that, were they something you didn’t want me to see Honey?”

“No, no, I don’t care. I’m just shocked you even took an interest in my pile.” You gave a little shrug while giving a yawn and cuddling in closer, enjoying the quiet of the wood crackling in the nearby stove and the snow gently hitting on the glass. “But…” You went a bit quiet, trying to sort through the masquerade of feelings it brought up in you that Curtis wasn’t making some snide remark about your ‘porn’. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it if he was mentally filing away scenes from it. Curtis as usual was patient, not rushing you to spit out what you were trying to say. “I like that you saw them and you’re okay with them?”

Curtis already knew what was on your mind, you had questioned him a few times about things that he honestly never would have thought about. That your ex was such a controlling asshole to you that you still worried about him actually being mad if you did something you thought he wouldn’t care for. His features softened towards you. “Honey, I am always going to be okay with whatever you choose to read and want you to. You don’t ever have to hide them from me. It’s like the toys, I encourage it.”

Any apprehension seemed to melt away when you got that confirmation from him, moving to ease yourself up. Curtis's arms shot up in a stretch while giving a yawn. “But tonight, I’m crashing early so no smut reading for me. Gotta do snow cleanup before leaving for the yard in the morning.”

Your hand reached out for his, helping him off the couch. “Meet you upstairs?”

“Go on up, I'm just gonna tend this fire and make sure the house is closed up for the night.” He tugged you in close for a second to steal a kiss and then released you towards the stairs.

As you started up the old creaky stairs, with the various pieces of artwork and old photographs of his family hanging along the hallway leading towards Curtis’s bedroom, your pile of sewing materials piled on the bottom step amid some of Curtis's clothes that needed patching, to the kitchen where you could hear Curtis opening the cupboard above the stove that held all your teas and honey, out of the corner of your eye you saw the cover of one of your books on the coffee table your boyfriend takes sneak peeks at as well as his reading glasses perched atop of the cover, this old house with its stories that you were starting to become a part of and the man who would follow right behind you because he always tried to do what he said he was going to do, these things were starting to feel like home more then that drafty old apartment you had crashed landed in after you restart your life to get away from your ex.

This was becoming where your heart belonged.

#curtis and plus!sized reader #curtis and honey #life is short so make it sweet #curtis x reader #curtis x plus sized reader #curtis and reader #curtis everett au #snowpiercer au #chris evans characters #soft fluff #curtis everett fluff #amber writes #sweater writes

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babyjakes · 5 months

Text

lock them out and throw a feast.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | food play

pairing | soft!dark!curtis everett x front-ender!reader

warnings | soft!dark!curtis. non-con. crying. restraints. use of gag. fingering. minimal dialogue (curtis is a quiet guy.) oral (f receiving) with plenty of clit focus. messy food play (a whole bakery's worth of sweets.) forced orgasm. squirting. implied multiple (forced) orgasms. written in 3rd person for some reason. showered!curtis :D

word count | 1,698

an | my snowpiercer knowledge is soooooo rusty i haven't watched the movie in years. this is kind of written in a universe where curtis and his rebellion were able to take over the engine. he picks out a pretty little front-ender as his reward and throws himself a feast... anyway, please ignore any details that might not align with the movie plot. this fic is dedicated to my sweet precious wonderful somny @onsunnyside, she isn't active much these days but of course i wanted to write her a kinkmas piece still, she is so special to me. and i know she loves curtis, so this felt like the perfect opportunity. love you, sonson<33 hope you're well and having happy holidays!

Everything was just the way he ordered it. An empty car all to himself, with both exits locked, dark curtains drawn. Lights dimmed, just bright enough to see through the stilled air. One shining down stronger than the rest in the center of the room, illuminating his long-awaited bounty. His final reward. His feast, fit for a king.

The moment he had laid eyes on her, cowering and weeping as her family's luxury quarters were broken into, he knew she was his endgame. He promised himself he'd have his way with her once he made it to the engine and overthrew the elite. Now that the hard work was done, it was time for him to revel in his victories. And there was no better way to do that, he had decided, than to feed the hunger that had been eating away at him for as long as he could remember.

He stood back in the shadows for the longest time, just taking in the glorious scene before him. Sucking in a strained breath, he pressed a tentative hand over the bulge in his pants. They were new; everything on him was. As his trusted second-in-commands were preparing his private car, Curtis had disappeared to care for himself and his body for the first time in seventeen years. He had a long, tedious shower, taking his time to remove nearly two decades of filth from his tattered body. Once he was clean, he had first choice from an entire car full of clothing- everything brand new. He remained modest with his choices. All the glitz and glam of the elite had no appeal to him.

Taking a step forward, he let his dark brown overcoat fall to the floor, leaving him in the simple gray t-shirt and utility trousers he had claimed earlier. Biting his lip, he pried his hand from his raging hard-on. He would relieve himself, in time. For now, he wanted to savor every moment he spent building up to that release.

Her quiet whimpers were the loudest thing in the room, accompanied by the low rumbling of the train's machinery in the background. Her crystalline tears only made her more beautiful, Curtis thought to himself. There was something so exquisite about her agonized expression; it didn't matter how wrong or cruel this was. He had given it all, risked his life for that damn train. This was his; he had earned it. He would allow himself that.

His men had done a fine job with the setup. She was as captivating as he had dreamt for all those years- no, she was better. Her body sprawled out elegantly over the smooth oak finish of the table below her, tied to the corners by her wrists and ankles, she was nothing more than a piece of meat to be feasted on, a meal to be devoured. And Curtis hadn't had a proper meal in years. The rest of the table's surface was covered in all the sweets and confectionaries his subordinates could find. Ripe fruits, delicate cakes and pastries, bowls of thick chocolates and creams- and to top it all off, his main course had been decorated lavishly to the likings of the delicacies surrounding her. Her most sensitive places had been drizzled and dipped, sprinkled and powdered, making her the most divine-looking creature the man had ever seen.

He took another step forward, surveying her as a vulture would its prey. Her dewy eyes peered up fearfully at him as he slowly approached the side of the table. Voice slightly hoarse from all her crying and struggling, she whined weakly through the thick cloth gag secured snugly between her chocolate-smeared lips.

"Shhhh," Curtis breathed out, the steadiness of his voice and posture such a stark contrast to the girl who lay weeping and bound before him. As he turned to make his way to the end of the table, her bare feet thrashed and kicked uselessly in protest. He simply shook his head at her pitiful displays of defiance. "No use fighting it, sweetheart," he hummed, his voice almost consoling in tone. "You're not going anywhere. Not until I get a good taste of what's mine."

With heedless, eager motions, the man cleared the portion of the table that sat between the girl's trembling legs. As mouth-watering as everything he was pushing aside appeared, his only focus was closing the space between him and the one thing he was truly starving for. Lowering his front down onto the now empty surface, Curtis' greedy eyes trailed up his victim's messy legs, finding the sacred point at which they joined. He drooled at the sight of her perfect cunt as it sat before him on display, dribbles of cream and what appeared to be nervous arousal collecting beneath her rounded ass.

"Mine," he repeated, this time nearing a growl. His rugged hands came up to squeeze at her soft, heavenly thighs, earning tiny squeaks of fear from the poor girl as she shook her head pleadingly- but it was no use. He had her before him now; nothing would come between him and his feast. "This body belongs to me now, angel. Do you understand?" He brought a hand up to push back her mound, exposing her swollen clit and leaky hole to his prying eyes. The confidence he was speaking with was impressive, given the fact that he'd never spoken to a woman like this in his life. But after all he'd lived through, he felt entitled to that sense of authority. He held her life in his hands, quite literally. And he sure as hell was ready to make the most of it.

"This pretty cunt-" he dared to take his words further, his other hand dragging a finger up through the streams of sugary icing coating her thighs to begin prodding at her tiny hole. "-is mine. All mine," he hummed, perfectly happy to be stating these truths to only himself, if his new possession was so insistent on denying them with her angry sobs and harsh glares. She would come around in time; he knew she would. She wouldn't have any choice in the matter.

His finger nudged and teased at the opening a bit more before gently dipping inside, the man's patience wearing thin. At the feeling of her tight, slippery walls doing everything in their power to fight off his intrusion, Curtis wasn't ashamed of the way his cock only grew harder from her unwillingness. He savored the distressed grunts and groans she let out as he forced his digit in up to a first knuckle, then a second. Turning his hand in a fluid motion, he began fucking his finger up into her, groaning lowly at the sight of her quickly growing increasingly responsive to his efforts.

Free-hand momentarily moving back to grab harshly at her hipbone, Curtis licked his lips as his gaze settled in on the tiny nub sitting at the top of the girl's messy slit. Bringing his thumb and pointer finger back down, he forcefully spread her upper lips apart, exposing her poor little button to the cool air of the room. Her legs kicked and struggled as he drew his face in closer, letting out a low groan as the bundle of nerves was finally taken between his parched lips.

The girl let out a howl through her gag, choking on her cries and spit as Curtis worked her aching clit. Closing his eyes, the man savored the feeling of the tiny bump twitching and trembling against his steady suckling. Letting go of any last hesitations, he submitted to eating her fresh cunt like a beast that'd been starved. He paid no mind to being gentle or polite as he latched onto her helpless core, delivering punishing waves of pain and pleasure well outside the realms of her wildest nightmares.

When his lips grew sore from sucking, he switched to dragging his tongue over the pulsating nub, starting with slow, teasing licks before switching to fast, merciless swipes in the blink of an eye. The alternating paces reduced his victim to softer sobs and hiccups, her hips bucking up wildly as her body struggled to tolerate the intense stimulation. And as soon as he'd had enough of the tongue work, he was back to nursing at the poor button, now so puffy and swollen from receiving his undivided attention.

As the girl's thighs shook, Curtis could see something shifting within her. The noises she let out were becoming more desperate, more panicked, with an expression of impending doom appearing on her tear-stained face. At the realization that she was being brought to orgasm against her will, the unrelenting hunger in Curtis' gut only rose. "That's it," he grumbled lowly, her sweet, sticky juices coating his reddened lips. "You're gonna come for me now, babydoll. Come on, give it to me," his face was hardening with determination, his finger thrusting more forcefully up into her fluttering walls as she hurled towards her climax at full speed.

The cry she let out as she finally came was the closest thing Curtis had ever heard to an angel on earth. As the incredible pressure in her tummy finally shattered, her poor clit spasmed helplessly in the man's awaiting mouth. A flood of sweetness sprayed against his scruffy facial hair as she squirted, the sight of her body coming helplessly against his efforts nearly too much for Curtis to bear. Groaning loudly, he coaxed her through the spectacular high. Only when her sobbing turned to weak sniffles did he finally pull away, his darkened eyes trailing up to find her tender face.

As he went to remove his digit from her soaking heat, he could've sworn she almost seemed to cling to him, in a way. He brought the creamy finger up to slip into his eager mouth, the sugary taste of her climax making his head pound with want.

His next words sent her into a fresh fit of tears. "One more," he decided, lowering his head back down to her sticky cunt. One more, he told himself, before he'd finally seek some relief of his own.

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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

Text

📖"Body Heat: a Snowpiercer-Marvel Mashup Story pt 2

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Curtis Everett x ofc

Tags: food insecurity, post apocalypse, age difference (18/34), dark!fic, implied/referenced suicide, poverty, arranged marriage, implied/referenced past cannibalism, hurt/comfort, attempted sexual assault

Author's Note:

On Tumblr, forbidden ToS content categories are: "terrorism, hate speech, harm to minors, self harm, sexually explicit material, violence, threats, gore, and mutilation."

And while you ARE apparently allowed to write a fictional story about incestuous, torturing, anorexic racists who rape their siblings, murder babies, kidnap, hate minorities, cannibalize, terrorize, and self-injure in the plotline of said story,

you ARE NOT allowed to write an underage character who engages is any sort of sexualized conduct in a story.

For this one category and this one category alone, Tumblr staff (or at least one particular individual 🧌 😏on staff) makes no distinction between fictional stories and C.S.A.M. They can and will delete your blog without any notice.

(To be spiteful, however, I have changed the ofc from 16 to 18 and Curtis from 28 to 34, thus WIDENING the original age gap from 12 yrs to 16 yrs😆)

🖤With that said, this is a dark story regardless, so if you're looking for fluff, I suggest you look elsewhere.🖤

(Wait! I haven't read Part 1 yet!)

Part 2 - "A Microcosm of Humanity, Boiled Down to its Base Elements"

Mealtimes in the Tail are more about social interaction than they are about food—Kind of hard to have a dinner party when the only things there are to feast on are protein blocks and a meat that you’re pretending is chicken, after all. But they make due.

They have dishes now, at least. A couple hundred plastic bowls and cafeteria cups, dimpled and chipped at the rims, but still serviceable. They’re some of the newer amenities, part of the package that the council negotiated for in last year’s talks. It’s never much but it’s something, brings them just a smidge closer to being able to live like human beings, rather than animals.

It’s been twelve years, and still they’re celebrating over bowls when they should be aiming for antibiotics. But conditions were so miserable after Boarding that even the smallest concession from uptrain feels like a luxury now. Curtis would prefer the progress be faster, but he’s not in charge. He’s Gillam’s second in command, and Gillam’s so old and frail now. After the turmoil of the Year Two (and Three, and Five) Revolts, Curtis made him a tacit promise to not resort to such violent measures again lightly. For now, negotiated castoffs and increased recyclables from uptrain will have to do.

He doesn’t see Rose again for the rest of the afternoon. Four hundred people living in a metal box tend to brew discontent and interpersonal problems over the tiniest of things, and as one of the Tail’s five elected, a big chunk of Curtis’ days are spent solving petty conflicts between the Tailies. He navigates his way through a list of waiting disputes in the market car and in the bunks, making his rulings on what’s fair, and trying not to worry obsessively over Rose and where she is and how she may be doing and who may be bothering her.

But he’s not entirely successful, because something still loosens in his chest when he catches sight of her—looking peaceful and sitting quietly alone at dinnertime. He walks over, grinning the closer he gets as she continues not to notice his approach. “... Hey Petal!” he whisper-yells right beside her as he taps her shoulder and sinks down to sit next to her on the floor.

She gasps and almost drops her bowl, but a relieved smile splits her face when she sees that it’s him. “Curtis! Hey. It’s you.”

“Course it’s me.” He frowns quizzically at just how relieved she looks. “Who’d you think it was?”

“Nobody,” she excuses quickly, shaking her head and inching over to make more room for him. “Just glad to see you, is all. Today’s been … long.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Did you get the clothes to Gilliam?”

Her smile softens and she nods. “Yeah. And the arm to Coulson.” She gestures down the car to where Phil is sitting, using the rudimentary limb with clumsiness but steadfast determination. “He has to practice, but I think it’s gonna work pretty well for him.”

“I’ll bet.” Curtis smiles, happy for him. Phil’s also one of the elected, and along with Gilliam, Curtis, The Man, and Banner, he’s always done his best to help the people in the Tail survive. … That’s why he’s currently missing his arm from just above the elbow.

Curtis remembers the taste of human flesh. He wishes he didn’t, but he does. And what’s more, he wishes it’d tasted worse than it had, wishes he didn’t have the memory of how his mouth had watered when he’d finally gotten to eat for the first time in over a week. He averts his eyes from Coulson, ashamed, setting his bowl on the floor and sliding his right hand up under his left coat sleeve to trace the jagged evidence of his own failure.

It hadn’t tasted bad. That’s something he’s never said out loud. Because it’s too shameful. Talking about the early days isn’t forbidden, per say, but there’s an understanding amongst the Tailies that you don’t discuss the actual experience of eating human flesh. Unless it’s in private with someone very, very close to you, you don’t talk about the worst things that went down in those days.

Curtis glances back to Phil, wondering. He doesn’t actually know who he’s eaten. Back in the Desperation, there had been a decision amongst the volunteers that their donations would be mingled and prepared anonymously, to avoid people knowing—even family members, even the donors themselves. Curtis gets lost in the horror of the memory for a minute or two as he stares across the car at Phil, wondering, remembering the taste …

He snaps out of it when Rose says something to him, and he realizes that he’s still got his right hand stuck up his left coat sleeve, touching the scar. Rose’s voice pulls him out of it, like a fog suddenly lifting, and Curtis hastily picks his bowl back up, asking Rose to repeat herself and then mustering a cheerful answer for her as he puts the memories of the past back in the box on the shelf in his mind.

He and Rose sit shoulder to shoulder and converse over their bowls of stew. It’s one of only a few things that Tailies ever get to eat, and consists of broth made from cooked down protein blocks, and chunks of meat from the only other animal that shares the tail section with them.

Yeah, they eat rats. Curtis has stopped caring at this point. In fact, he’s not sure he ever really cared in the first place. Once you start with cannibalism, the only way to go is up. And it doesn’t taste too bad—especially since they’ve graduated from catching the rats to actually breeding them in cages. Between that and the artificial salt substitute that Curtis negotiated as part of last year’s package, things have a nicer flavor to them than they used to.

“Didn’t you work in the kitchen car for a hot second?” he says between one sip and another, when he’s paused to try and use his fingernail to get a stringy bit of meat out from between his teeth. “What’d MJ have you doing in there?”

Rose makes a face. “There are only a couple steps to making this slop, Curtis. Use your imagination.”

He laughs at the comical shudder she gives, and she kicks him for laughing at her. “So dramatic,” he teases. “What do you have to compare it to, anyway, huh?” He rolls his eyes. “Train babies. Don’t realize how good you have it.”

She gasps and pokes him as though he’s heaved a grave insult at her. “I am not a train baby!”

“Barely.”

“I’m eighteen!” she says, as if that makes her a full fledged adult (Curtis swallows heavily as he thinks that in some ways, it does). “I remember food from Before,” she insists, and Curtis shakes his head in amusement at her.

“Fine. What do you remember?” He’s breaking one of his own rules for her, talking about Before. It should alarm him but it doesn’t. “What food?” he taunts.

She sticks her chin out haughtily and thinks about it, before declaring, “Goldfish. And noodles. I remember noodles.”

It takes all Curtis has inside him not to snicker at her expense. He does want this girl to like him, after all. He looks down at his own bowl of stew and smiles fondly. “Goldfish crackers and noodles. That’s very specific.” The kind of thing a young child would remember. “Is that all?”

She twists her lips and admits, “Yeah.”

You have blocked a lot of it out, Curtis thinks sadly. Just not the parts that happened after Boarding. “It’s better that way,” he tells her. “Makes all of this more bearable.” Rose has never really had a life that was anything other than “bearable,” and while that is something of a mercy for her, it also makes Curtis want to be the one to give her more; be the one to introduce her to finery and pleasure, show her what it can taste like, what it can feel like. “There’s things I want to get for us,” he tells her, speaking quietly because he doesn’t need the people nearby overhearing and getting themselves worked up. “Things for the Tail, food I want to negotiate for. I think this might be the year.”

Rose looks intrigued. “What?”

“Lean closer,” Curtis whispers. “This is top secret.”

She smirks and scootches even closer to him, until they’re pressed together from hip to shoulder. “What?” she whispers.

Curtis looks her in the eye and lets the tension build for a moment, trying his damnedest to keep his expression serious, and then he declares, “Goldfish and noodles.”

She gives an outraged squawk and moves to swat at him for making fun of her, though she’s laughing herself. “You suck!”

Curtis stays her hand, pulling her into a one-armed hug and apologizing through his own laughter. “Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Shh. I’ll tell you.” He calms down from laughing. “I’ll tell you, I will.”

“Jerk,” she mutters, but he can hear the fondness in her voice.

“Chickens,” he whispers in her ear. “You remember those?”

She purses her lips thoughtfully, then shrugs in a way that tells him she really doesn’t. “That’s an animal,” she says, in what she doesn’t realize is a sad demonstration of her limited knowledge. “A bird.”

“Yeah,” Curtis says. “Yeah it is. You know the New Year’s eggs?” Every year since Year Five, a wheelbarrow from uptrain arrives on New Year’s Day bearing the coveted gift of hundreds of gleaming white, hard-boiled eggs—one for each blasted soul who lives trapped in the Tail section. Rose hums and Curtis nods. “Those come from chickens. They lay the eggs and you can eat them. It’s a good source of food. And you can kill the chickens and eat them, too. Eat their meat.”

“But … don’t baby chickens come from the eggs?” Rose asks naively.

Curtis smirks. “Yeah, but that’s when they’re fertilized. If a male chicken isn’t around fucking the hens, then the eggs just come out, and you can eat ‘em. They don’t have baby chicks in them.” He watches Rose’s face screw up at the stark visual, and is surprised when she bluntly declares,

“Oh. So … like a period, with us.”

Curtis almost swallows his tongue. First of all, he wouldn’t have expected Rose to be able to make the comparison. Because she may be old enough to bleed, but they don’t exactly have comprehensive sex ed in the Tail. As far as Curtis knows, the girls are taught young—very young—what sex is, what it leads to, and how to avoid it at all costs. Curtis doesn’t think he’s heard a person talk openly about these things since before Boarding. It just isn’t done. The women handle their stuff themselves, and the men have their heads bitten off if they interfere.

“Um,” he says, face heating. “Yeah, I guess. Except you don't lay eggs." Rose snorts and Curtis winces and scratches awkwardly behind his ear. “So anyway, I want to get us some chickens. If we had those, it’d help a lot.”

Rose stares pensively into the depths of her soup bowl, with its globulous broth and stringy bits of meat. “It’d taste better than this?”

Curtis scoffs. “Most things do, Petal.”

“Oh God, you’re really sticking with that, aren’t you?”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze, laying out his vision for the future. “I want to negotiate for another car. With dirt and chickens.”

“Dirt?”

“Yeah. They grow things uptrain. Crops. We could too. We could raise chickens in half of it, grow potatoes in the other half.”

Rose looks at him like he’s just announced he’ll be negotiating for the moon. “They’ll never give it to you,” she whispers. “Why would they?”

“If I could threaten them with something big enough. We might have the bargaining power.”

“What would you threaten them with?”

He smiles sadly and squeezes her shoulder. “I dunno. That’s what I’ve gotta figure out.”

“But you’re not gonna … I mean there’s not going to be another war, is there? Not like before …”

There’s genuine fear in her voice when she asks, which makes Curtis feel like crap. Everyone had suffered back then. Many had died. He thinks about how Rose would’ve only been eleven or so, during the Year Five Rebellion. Just a kid, still playing with the crummy little doll Curtis made for her. “No, Hon,” he promises gently. “No. There are other ways. Other things we can do to gain leverage. It just takes time.”

“What ways?”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t help it,” she pouts. “I may not know many things. But I like to know them.”

He smiles fondly. “I know, Petal. You’re curious. Always have been. You like to know the scuttlebutt, as they say. You’re not afraid to ask questions. I like that about you.”

“You do?”

“... Among other things.” He sees her cheeks color prettily, and realizes he’d better stop talking. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’d tell you if I could, but these things are above your paygrade. Me and Gilliam’ll figure it out.” He shoots her a wink. “That’s why they pay us the big bucks.”

She titters at that, because they both know that there’s no such thing as money in the Tail. Oh there’s currency, for sure, just not the kind that’s handed over as stacks of bills. Curtis lets his eyes drag over the few parts of Rose’s body that he can see: her attractive face and the slope of her neck, the delicate suggestion of a collar bone where it peeks out before it’s swallowed up by her sweater. He looks away. “I want to improve things for us. Change is possible. There are things we can get. We just have to work for it.”

“What things?” she presses, leaning closer.

He thinks about brushing her off, but he can see that she’s genuinely curious, and the interested gleam in her eyes sways him. Because ideas can mean hope, and he wants her to have hope. They’ve both seen what can happen when there isn’t any.

He tells her about the basic medicines and medical supplies that could be useful, tells her about the items they could receive if people uptrain were more willing to bargain. “More castoffs would go to us, instead of into the recycling machines,” he tells her. While it is true that some old and unwanted items eventually make their way into the Tailies’ “market,” the sad fact is that many more materials are cleansed, disintegrated, and recycled for use through the train’s 3d printing machines. Curtis has never seen them, but due to his yearly talks with a woman named Melanie, he now knows that they exist, and they’re why not much gets sent back to the Tailies.

“We’d have more clothes, toys and books, all sorts of new things.” Of course when he says “new” he only means new in the sense of new to them. To people in the front, Tailies are second class citizens at best, subhumans at worst. The funny thing is, Curtis doesn’t take offense at it like he used to. He’s learned by now that it’s human nature to kill, cheat and steal, clamoring all over each other whenever resources are limited. They’ve literally eaten the weak in the Tail, after all. It’d be hypocritical to hold the first class passengers to a higher standard.

No, Snowpiercer is just a microcosm of humanity boiled down to its base elements. Nine-hundred people surviving on a miserable little train, barreling endlessly around the frozen corpse of the planet. Of course there’s going to be subjugation of the weak so that others can have more. Curtis doesn’t hold it against them anymore, but he sure as hell isn’t going to take it lying down. The Tailies were never ticketed passengers. They forced their way on, they scraped and scrounged and earned their survival. And if they ever get the chance, they’ll turn the tables on the passengers uptrain in a heartbeat. Curtis makes speeches about “leveling the playing field,” but he doesn’t have visions of utopia. Not really. He just wants to die in a feather bed.

“What would we have after chickens?” Rose asks, drawing Curtis out of his gloom. She knows as well as he does, what the definition of a “pipe dream” is, but it’s fun to pretend with someone you like, and Curtis likes her. Always has. He likes that she hasn’t turned grey and dull like everyone else in the Tail. So he indulges her “what ifs” and they continue to tease each other over various colorful and increasingly stupid imaginings: how they’ll have potatoes, and then beef, then televisions, bathtubs, a swimming pool.

At some point, Curtis realizes that he’s actually managed to make her smile, and giggle. Even sitting on a cold steel floor slurping at a bowl of rat and god-knows-what stew, he feels like a king knowing he was able to do that. “You’re really beautiful when you smile,” he blurts out, soaking up the way that her eyes get just a little bit wider and her lips part in surprise. He averts his attention back down to his bowl, pleased as punch. “‘Course, I always think you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, fully intending for her to hear.

She gets quiet after that, bashful and seemingly deep in thought. Curtis doesn’t worry though, because when everybody settles in to listen to that night’s story, she goes to fetch one of the blankets off her bunk and brings it back. She plops herself right back down next to Curtis and hands him a corner of the blanket to wrap it around both of their shoulders. He obliges. The assembly car fills up for that night’s entertainment, and just before the lights are dimmed down to their lowest level, Curtis locks eyes with Tanya from across the car, who’s shooting him a scrutinizing look. He’s grateful to escape her judgment for the moment, but he knows she’ll be on him before long.

They set out the tall stool at the head of the car, and Painter, the Tail’s historian, climbs up and settles on it.

A quiet man of short stature, Painter’s been performing the nightly stories since almost from the very beginning. He has a way of seeing things that others don’t, a way of weaving words and details together in graduating, elaborative cadence; like his drawings, like strings on a loom, always managing to convey the true heart of a matter in a way that resonates with people. It’s the closest thing to watching a movie any of them will probably ever get again, and in Curtis’ opinion it has just as much value as the food they feed their bodies with. People need more than just food to survive. They need community, they need love, they need hope.

Painter sits silently at first—a sign that he hasn’t decided on the topic and is taking suggestions that night. Someone calls out in the dimness to suggest The Man for tonight’s story, and a murmur of general agreement goes through the crowd. Up ahead on his stool, Painter nods. The Man was well known in the Tail, having long-served on Gillam’s council, among other things. Curtis hadn’t been lying to Rose, when he’d said that her father had been a good leader.

In the crook of his arm, he feels her shift subtly. Aware that this might be hard for her, he leans over and kisses the top of her head. “Hey, are you okay?” he whispers, giving her the option. “You want to go?” But she shakes her head and tucks herself further into him, so Curtis relaxes back, looking forward to getting to hold her in his arms for the next hour or two.

Painter does The Man justice. Children are always kept in another car during storytime, so that the plotlines don’t have to be watered down for their sensibilities, but even still, Curtis doesn’t doubt that Painter knows Rose is present, because he takes care to soften the corners of the story where she features, and to use gentle words when the most painful memories are fleshed out.

For over an hour, Curtis lets his eyes slip closed and the words wash over him. He tucks his nose into Rose’s hair and breathes the scent of her in, holding her small, soft body against him. He can feel every shift and sway that she gives as she hears the story, too, and they enjoy their time together, connecting over the shared intimacy of Painter’s words.

At some point, he brings her into his lap, and she comes so easily—like she was just waiting for the invitation, and is relieved that he wants her there. This isn’t something they’ve done before. Not like this. And he can tell by the slight tension in her body that she knows it, too. This is new. It could be the first time a man has ever showed her attention like this, and Curtis wants it to be good and easy for her. He gently rubs her back as the story stretches on, relieved when he can feel all the tension slowly leaving her. “Good girl,” he whispers against her hair.

She hums and rubs her cheek on his chest with complete trust, and Curtis suddenly remembers what it used to feel like to sink into a full, hot bath. Is this what it means to be touch starved? he wonders. Probably. It’s been so long since he’s been genuinely intimate with another person, that he’d almost forgotten the feeling.

Eventually he can hear the tone of Painter’s words changing, can hear it all coming to a close as he wraps up his retelling of that night’s story. Curtis has never hated anything more. Please, he thinks. Please let him keep going. Let him keep talking just a little bit longer so she’ll stay in my arms. He doesn’t want to let her go.

… Maybe if he plays his cards right, he won’t have to.

Tanya does confront him that night, cornering him by her spot before he can follow after Rose on her path to the wash car. “Pretty sure that girl knows how to bathe herself,” she says, hand planted firmly on Curtis’ chest. “She doesn’t need you, Curtis.”

Curtis loses sight of Rose going into the next bunk car, and he settles back onto his heels, glaring at Tanya. “I’m trying to look out for her.”

Tanya raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “You sure that’s all you’re trying to do?”

Curtis’s eyes narrow. “Have you been paying attention? Look around.” He nods at the crowded bunk car around them and speaks in a hushed tone. “You’re in charge of all the female stuff, you should know better than anyone what’ll happen now that her father’s gone. I’m only trying to protect her.”

Tanya purses her lips. “Uh huh. Protect her with your penis, is that how?”

“Jesus.” Curtis takes a step back, crossing his arms in frustration. He leans back against a metal rail. “I’m just being realistic,” he eventually says, after sulking over it for a moment. He respects Tanya—she’s a crucial part of the Tail, helping the women who get pregnant and give birth, helping the girls when they start developing (and, eventually, when they start attracting the attention of the men). “You’ve seen them looking?” he asks, not having to look at Tanya to know that she understands him. “So what am I supposed to do? Just wait until somebody else stakes their claim?”

Tanya makes an angry sound, though it isn’t directed at Curtis. “I stop them.”

“You stop the ones you can,” Curtis says lowly. “But eventually—”

“Eventually is eventually. Right now is right now,” she hisses.

Curtis turns back to her. “We play it your way and the first guy who stakes his claim gets her. That’s how it works. You know that. Is that what you want, huh?” Tanya’s face works in frustration, and Curtis softens. “Hey,” he says, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. “I don’t like it either. We do the best we can with what we have.” He feels her shoulders rise and fall in a beleaguered sigh.

“I boxed Batroc’s ears last week,” she tells him; her way of giving tacit approval. “Keep an eye on that dirtbag.”

Curtis nods. He’s aware of who the biggest threats are, currently. It’s the men in their twenties and thirties who prey on the up and coming girls. Marriage isn’t a thing in the tail so much as claiming is. The men have a sort of ‘first dibs’ honor system that Curtis despises, but that he can’t change on his own. Not when the majority is so set on it. “I’m not going to force her,” he promises Tanya. “Okay? I’ll give her the choice. You know I will.”

Tanya’s jaw works, but eventually she nods and turns to the side to let him pass. Curtis pats her shoulder in thanks and heads off in the direction that Rose went with her towel.

He gets there just a few seconds too late—or at least, that’s what he thinks when he hears her crying out from the women’s side of the wash car. Curtis barrels around the partition, heedless of whoever else may be in there when he can hear Rose in distress.

There’s a man standing at her back, pushing her face up against the wall of one of the stalls. She’s naked, the shower spraying aimlessly not even a foot away. She’s struggling, crying … and the man’s pants are halfway down his thighs.

Curtis sees red. “Get the fuck off her!”

Everything happens in a blur: him pulling the man back by his shirt and throwing him onto the floor at the opposite side of the car, the man’s head hitting the wall, Rose crying out in fear, Curtis going over to gather her naked body into his arms. “Are you okay?” he asks breathlessly, holding her as she sobs and presses her head of soaked hair against him. His hands slide over the water-slicked skin of her back, his heart in his throat. “Did he hurt you?”

She sobs and shakes her head, clinging to him. “Curtis!”

“Shh, you’re okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He looks across the car at the man, who’s now rubbing his head with a pained wince. Curtis feels rage consume him and he has no control over his actions as he abandons Rose by the stall and stalks across the car to punch the guy square in the face. He immediately grabs his shirt collar and hauls him back in. “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” he roars.

“Stop!” the man—a guy Curtis knows only as Hodge—coughs out, speaking through blood and what’s likely a broken nose. He holds up his hands to defend himself from further assault, and Curtis shakes him with a furious growl.

“Did you touch her?! What did you do? I’ll kill you!”

“I didn’t!” Hodge coughs, pushing against Curtis. “I didn’t do anything! I was just—”

Curtis slams him back into the wall of the car. “Then why’s your dick out?!” Hodge sinks down the wall to the floor and Curtis follows him down. “Answer me!”

“I just wanted to talk to her!”

He’s about to reach down and rip this guy’s nuts off, but Rose calling to him from the other side of the car draws his attention away: “Curtis, please. Curtis!” She’s standing there—naked, wet and shivering, futilely trying to cover herself. She looks at him pleadingly through her tears. “He didn’t. You stopped him. He didn’t.”

It’s enough to make Curtis rein himself in from further violence. Rose needs him more than he needs to hurt Hodge. Still, he shakes the man again as he hauls him back up to standing and shoves him towards the exit of the car. “This isn’t finished,” he warns him at the door, pushing him through hard enough that he falls to his ass on the other side. Curtis points at him. “You’ll pay for this.”

He slams the door and goes back to Rose, who’s still standing there looking lost, shivering, cold. The shower’s still running, so Curtis hurries over to turn the water off. He grabs the towel that’s hanging on the hook and brings it to Rose, intending to bundle her up as quickly as he can. She takes it and wraps it around herself, but it ends at mid thigh and Curtis’ eyes are drawn to a trickle of red running down her inner thigh. All the blood drains from his face. “You’re bleeding,” he says, horrified.

Rose looks down at it and sniffles. “Oh.”

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Curtis breathes, already turning to go back out and finish the job.

“Curtis! Curtis wait!” Rose grabs his arm with both hands as she shakes her head frantically. “I’m fine. It’s my period. He didn’t hurt me.”

Curtis calms down, his chest heaving from adrenaline. “You swear?” he urges, grabbing her upper arms and holding her in front of himself to get a better look at her. Now that he’s paying attention, he can see that she’s dripping wet and rattled, but not visibly hurt.

“I swear. I’m okay.”

His eyes track back down to the blood on her leg, suspicious until he looks beyond and sees her pile of clothing sitting over on a shelf. There’s a small folded rag there the likes of which he’s seen before; what the women pass around silently amongst themselves when they bleed. Curtis calms down as he realizes that Rose is telling the truth and not just lying to keep him from murdering Hodge. He lets go of her upper arms, suddenly aware that she may not want him touching her right at this moment. “Sorry,” he mutters, not knowing what else to say. He feels like he’s just run a marathon, his heart is beating so fast.

Rose surprises him by throwing herself into his arms again, a sob making her whole body heave against him. “Thank you,” she cries, hugging him, hiding her face against his chest. “Curtis, god. If you hadn’t come in …”

“Shh. I did. I did come,” he reassures her, wrapping his arms around her fully again now that he knows it’s welcome. She feels so small. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

They stand there for who knows how long. Minutes, at least. Calming down together. Rose’s crying fades, and Curtis’ blood pressure re-enters the stratosphere. He can feel the red hot anger and instinct to kill bleeding out of his mind the longer that time stretches on. He becomes aware of how cold Rose must be in only her towel and still all wet. “Here,” he says, ushering her back towards the shower. The stalls have changing areas right in front of them, and he steps back so that she can have privacy. “Get dried off. Get dressed,” he says. “I’ll …” his gaze falls back down to the trail of red on her leg. He swallows thickly and averts his eyes. “I’ll be right here.”

Shakily, she nods and pulls the curtain. She gets dressed, and when she opens the curtain again, her hair has been towel-dried and hangs limply about her face. She looks shyly up at Curtis. “Hey.”

“C’mere, Honey.”

She folds back herself into his arms eagerly, whining and pressing into him. “Thank you,” she whispers. “God, Curtis. Thank you.”

“I should’ve been here,” he grunts, thinking of how Tanya had held him back. He silently curses her. “I knew something like this would happen,” he hisses to himself, though he regrets saying it when he feels how it makes her shudder against him.

“Can we get out of here, please?”

He nods and starts to lead them towards the door of the car. He’s not surprised to find Hodge gone on the other side. Curtis silently fumes about what he’d walked in on, as he leads Rose backtrain. They walk through the car where her spot is, and Curtis gives her hand a squeeze when she looks back at it and makes a questioning noise. “I want you with me tonight,” he tells her, gentle but firm, because no way in hell is he leaving her alone now. “Please?” he coaxes, pleased when she looks up to him and nods.

“Okay.”

He smiles softly. “Good girl.”

Curtis has a good sized spot. Certainly big enough for two, which he’s grateful for when he guides her to scoot in across the bed. His is the third bunk up out of four, which means climbing a few rungs, but once you’re up there it affords a fair sense of privacy, especially once he draws the curtain across to close them in together. He flicks the small lamp on, its dim bulb flickering to life and giving just enough light to see by.

He’s got his blankets spread out on the bed. There’s plenty of room enough to sit up and move around, all of his worldly possessions hung to the wall or else strapped against the top of the bunk above. “Home sweet home,” he says, gesturing around half heartedly. “Nothing special.”

“It’s nice.” Rose looks around with a little curiosity before tucking her head down. She shrugs. “You’ve got one of the lights. Our spot doesn’t. I mean … my spot,” she amends quietly. “Our neighbor has the light.”

The lights are built into the walls, meant to faintly illuminate what were once the train’s original baggage racks, powered by the Arc Reactor and impossible to move. But some people have managed to rig up their own lamps from salvaged materials and a little creative wiring over the years. There are no windows in the Tail. Curtis has heard that there are windows uptrain, but he doesn’t know whether to be jealous or not. Would it really improve anything, to have a view of the wasted, frozen world they left behind? He’s not so sure. At least this way they can pretend that Snowpiercer is all there is, the delusion only ruined whenever the Jackboots arrive to deliver food or raid them.

Curtis settles beside her and knocks their legs together. “I’ll keep my eye out for something in the market,” he promises. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be in the dark.”

She smiles as though pained, looking down at her lap. “Being pretty is what got me into this mess.”

Curtis sighs. “No. It’s not just that, Hon.” He cups her face, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. “It’s not just that.”

“What then?”

He smiles sadly. “Look, if there’s one thing you gotta understand about men, it’s that we covet the rare … and the pure. You’re good. Truly good, in a way most of us aren’t. In a way we can’t afford to be.” He drops his hand and turns away, feeling gross for having told her that, for having included himself in the roster of ‘men’ who think like that. But it’s true. “That’s why you stand out,” he mutters. “None of us are good the way you’re good.”

“What? But you’re good.”

Curtis scoffs. “Please.”

“You are! You’re on council aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes. “That means I’m good with people, not good. There’s a difference.”

“No,” Rose insists. “No, you help everyone. You lead us, try to make life better for us.” She gets incensed when he continues to disagree. “You do! You … you make dolls for little girls who’ve lost all their toys. You protect us.”

Curtis slumps back against the wall. “Is that what I did back there? Protected you?”

“Yes. Curtis you saved me. You stopped him from …” She falters, unable to say the word, and the silence grows uncomfortable between them. Eventually she stares down at her lap and scoffs bitterly.

Curtis looks over. He doesn’t like the pinch that’s settled between her eyebrows. There’s something strangely self-deprecating about it, and he can’t figure out what’s going on in her head. “Hey.” He nudges her knee with his. “What are you thinking, Hon?”

She shakes her head. “Hodge,” she whispers. “He said things.”

“Oh god. Don’t. Rosie, don’t pay attention to anything that cretin said. Did he threaten you? Because if he did, you know I still have half a mind to rip off his—”

“He said that somebody would choose me, and if it isn’t him it’ll be someone else ‘staking their claim’.” She looks rather mortified as she repeats it. “And he’s not wrong. I mean that’s the way it’s done, isn’t it?” she asks bitterly. “The men. They choose who they want. We don’t get a say. Not really.”

“Rosie,” Curtis mourns, wishing that he could spare her, wishing he could tell her that she has choices, choices that people will respect. But he doesn’t want to lie. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to. “Hey,” he says instead. “You know I care about you, right?”

She nods, sniffling. “Yeah.”

“You should sleep here. Not just tonight but every night.” He can tell by her reaction that she realizes what he means, and he’s pleased when she leans against his side, still seeking comfort in him. He relaxes now that the hardest part is done. “Would you like that, Petal?” he asks softly, wrapping his arm around her and holding her close. She scoffs at the nickname, and Curtis kisses the top of her head. It’s been a long time since he’s had another person in his bunk—a long time. Not having a partner is lonely, sure, but with the way things are in the tail, it’s easier just to jerk off. Romance is all but dead, as is evidenced by the Tailies’ near-transactional customs regarding sex and relationships. “Will you?” he checks, relieved when she gives a little nod and a sniffle.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want that either.”

They sit there in silence for a while, and just as Curtis starts to wonder if Rose has fallen asleep, she whispers, “What was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“Men and women. Before. How did it …” she pauses, considering what she wants to say, or perhaps how to ask. “My dad and my mom,” she settles on. “They were married. They loved each other. Nobody chose my mom. They chose each other.”

Curtis nods and gives her arm a squeeze. “Yeah. That’s how it was.”

“Tell me?” she asks, sounding for all the world like a child asking for a bedtime story. “Please?”

Curtis rubs her back, resigning himself to telling her the truth. “People met,” he says. “At school, at work, through friends. If they liked each other romantically, they dated.”

“What’s ‘dated’?”

He winces where she can’t see. “When you liked someone, you’d ask them out on a date. You’d meet them and go do something nice together. Something fun. Get a drink or see a movie, eat a meal in a restaurant.”

“Did the man decide the dates?”

He frowns. “Sometimes. Women would too, though. Sometimes they’d be the one to ask the guy out. It just depended.”

“What happened next?” Rose asks.

“Well … you’d just keep spending time together, you’d keep dating. If the people decided not to date anybody else, they’d agree to be a couple. Boyfriend and girlfriend. … Or husband and wife.”

“What’s the difference?”

Curtis winces at how sad it is that she doesn’t know that. The long term implications of their confinement in the Tail section are obvious and jarring, at times like this. He licks his lips. “Marriage was more serious than dating. More permanent. You might break up with your girlfriend eventually, but if you made her your wife, then that was like saying you wanted to be together forever.” He doesn’t bother getting into the concept of divorce, knowing that she just needs a basic understanding of the matter. “That’s how it was,” he finishes. “Before.”

Rose is quiet for a long while, thinking it over. Eventually she says, “And now the men choose.”

Curtis hates how resigned she sounds about it. “What happened in the wash car isn’t allowed,” he says, aware of the way her body tenses against him. “I’ll make sure Hodge is punished. But the thing is, Sweetheart … I’m worried he won’t be the last.”

Rose sniffles. “It’s ‘cause my dad’s gone, isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t help the matter. But you’ve been old enough for a while now, for some. And I’ve seen them looking.”

“For some?” Rose peeks up at him. “Not you?”

Curtis hesitates to answer. “... You’re young, Honey.” It’s not like he can say that he wants her. But saying that he doesn’t would be a total lie. He might not be looking yet, if he didn’t have the other men to worry about; but he does have to worry about them, and so he has been looking. “I’ll make sure Hodge is punished,” he reiterates. “Severely. Even with the way things are now, that was completely beyond the pale.” He feels that hot surge of fury boil up inside him again as he thinks about it: Rose standing there, shivering and crying, Hodge with his hands on her, his dick hanging out of his pants. “He was going to rape you,” Curtis growls. “He needs to pay.”

“And the others?” she asks. “You’ll stop them?”

His chest aches at her unshakable faith in him and what she thinks he can do. “I can only protect you one way,” he murmurs, pulling her close and burying his nose in her hair so that she can’t look up at him with those big doe eyes again. “Has Tanya talked to you much?” he asks. Her head moves against him in a little nod, but she doesn’t say anything. Curtis kisses her hair. “What happened in the wash car could happen again. Someone’ll want to claim you.” She whines and rubs her face against his sweater, clinging to him. He pulls her into his lap just like he had during storytime, earlier that night. “Hey,” he soothes, “I wish it could be different, you know? Wish I could take you outta here, make other people respect your choices.” He sighs sadly. “That’s just not how it works anymore, Petal.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “Would you take me on a date, Before?” He hesitates, and she notices. She looks up at him. “You wouldn’t?”

“You’re too young for me,” he admits. “Or you would’ve been. Before.”

“Now I’m not?” she asks, and Curtis averts his eyes uncomfortably, because of course she’s still too fucking young. If they were still in the World she’d be in highschool, going to prom and the mall, glued to her phone. Learning about sex from school and porn and from fumbling encounters with boys her own age, not from some jaded midwife in a squalid train car.

“Now …” he sighs. “Now, it’s different. It doesn’t make it right, but girls become fair game once they’re about your age. And any man who’s interested can try for you.”

“I know that,” she whispers. “But what about you? Are you interested?”

Curtis’ mouth is dry. He can’t answer. So he nods smally instead. He’s surprised when she doesn’t seem frightened or upset by this admission. He lets his hands hold her more securely, fingers dipping into the curve of her waist from over her sweater. “I care about you,” he croaks. “I want to protect you. And the only way I know to do that is to claim you myself.”

“Will you?” she asks. She lays her cheek back against his chest and yawns. “Claim me?”

Above her resting head, Curtis grinds his teeth. “Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay Hon?”

“Mm.” She nods sleepily. “Okay. I trust you, Curtis. Thank you for helping me today.”

He doesn’t answer her, just holds her against him and rubs her back as she gradually falls to sleep. He’s not the man she thinks he is, and she should be in her own spot right now, not tucked away in here with him, because sooner or later he knows he’s going to take advantage. He’ll have her, and he’ll make sure that every other man in the train knows that she’s his. That may not be what she really wants, or even what’s good for her.

But oh well, he thinks. At least it’s better than the alternative.

Masterlist

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dc418writes · 3 months

Text

✨Pairing✨: softdark!assassin!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

Summary🪄: the mysterious man in the corner booth is gonna make you wish you stayed home

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!!!, language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of adult happy fun times, allusion to reader being held against her will (so dubcon..?? Ish??? 🤷🏽‍♀️)

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to the @secretswiftymarvelfan I Love You 3000 Writing Bonanza✨! Congrats again on 3000 followers👏🏾👏🏾!! I hope you - and everyone else who reads - like what I put together!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

AU: assassin, Trope: one night only, Dialogue: “I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want”

Taking a deep breath, you stand smoothing your white tennis skirt down against your thighs before making your way to the ridiculously handsome man your friends pushed you into talking to.

“Girl take a chance for once!”

“I-I don’t want to bother him. Plus I’m sure he already has someone,” you replied nervously holding your hands in your lap. From your quick glances his way, he seemed unimpressed with everything - and potentially everyone - around. Content and enjoying his solace.

“Well you won’t know unless you ask,” your other friend countered in a sing-song manner fluttering her newest lash extensions.

Now here you were nearly to the corner booth in the dimmest part of the bar with your fruity cocktail in hand as your pink, strappy heels tapped against the floor. The stranger’s eyes locked with yours as he sips his own glass tumbler half filled with a brown liquid. How his tongue peeks out to collect the small droplets left, paired with the corner of his mouth tilting in the slightest smirk, leaves an involuntary flutter in your lower abdomen that carries down into your core.

Your cheeks - and overall body - warm as you finally reach your destination. “H-Hi.”

He gently bows his shaved head, “Hello.”

“Sorry to bother you. M-My friends and I made this pact to try new things this year and mine is to walk up to a guy I’m attracted to since I don’t really do that so here I am…”

“I’m not surprised.” You feel your mood fall at his words and embarrassment swell in your chest. How foolish of you to think you could do this? That you had an ounce of sex appeal or confidence like those other girls you saw easily able to grab any man they wanted. It’s exactly why you stayed to yourself. Your ultimate fear of rejection keeping you rooted in your seat or at home.

“O-Oh?,” is all you can muster feeling even more stupid that you didn’t even have a solid retort.

“As gorgeous as you are, I’m sure you always have men coming up to you. No need for you to do any work,” he explains making a shy smile spread along your glossy lips and relief soothe the uneasiness of your stomach. He extends his hand to the seat next to him motioning for you to join him, which you gladly take with a quiet “thank you.”

“Truthfully, it’s my friends that get all the attention. Guys usually just walk past me to get to them.”

“Nothing against your friends, but sounds like those boys were idiots,” he firmly states before taking a last pull of his drink to finish it. The tic in his jaw as if he’s bothered by those other men even though he doesn’t know them. As if he’s annoyed at just their mere mention. “Then again, should probably thank em for allowing us to meet huh?”

At that, you seem to lose your train of thought immediately letting your eyes fall to your lap again so giddy from his words. A brief silence falls over your table, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable in the slightest. Finally peeking up again, his ocean eyes - and overall expression - turn a bit softer, which doesn’t help the butterflies erupting in what feels like your whole body.

“Shit, sweetheart you got me forgetting my manners. Curtis,” he introduces in a deep drawl that sends tingles up your spine. Holding his hand out, you notice intricate, black ink along the back of his hand and knuckles - in a design you can’t exactly make out - that looks to extend all the way up his arm covered by his black long sleeve shirt. You feel guilty for it, but you let your mind wander to how far it exactly goes. To his solid chest? His, probably, perfectly sculpted back maybe? Across his firm pecs and down to his abs you could visibly make out through his shirt?

The longer your mind imagined, the more that itch to find out grew stronger. And when you placed your hand in his - noting just how much larger it was than yours, not to mention stronger - you knew you were done for.

“Y/N.”

•

It’s pitch black when you finally awake to the quiet room. The side of your face pressed into the vanilla bourbon scented pillow below you - the same one Curtis had you drooling, moaning, and pleading in majority of the night.

The way he wrung your body exhausted pulling orgasms one after the other - you honestly couldn’t remember the exact number from your brain turning into mush after the second - you’d think he created you. Molded you with his own hands and knew just where he hid that special spot inside you. Then again, maybe it was just from you being..well..out of commission for some time.

Slightly lifting your head, you finally notice you’re lying by yourself in his king sized bed. The sheets pulled up to cover your back and keep you warm.

Additionally, just how quiet it is around you as if you’re the only one there period.

“C-Curtis?,” you hoarsely call out hoping he just journeyed to the kitchen or even another room for a call. Having a house so extravagant, clearly he had to do something highly important that took most of his time.

But you’re met with silence, causing the once tired smile along your lips to falter.

You thought he really liked you. That he would’ve wanted to see you again sometime and maybe grow into something more. “That’s why they call it one night stand,” you mumble to yourself feeling the crack in your heart spread bit by bit as you slide from under the warm covers to collect your things.

It seems like your stomach becomes queasy again with every piece of clothing you put on; making you study your earlier conversation trying to discover any missed signs or warnings. Of course you still didn’t see any, only making you feel foolish and ashamed all over again.

Heels clacking and echoing throughout the home, you’re too busy reserving an Uber on your phone to notice Curtis standing in front of the main door until you nearly run into him. A startled scream pushing from your lungs as one hand lands on your chest and the other drops your phone to the hardwood floor.

With his black top and black pants, he looked as if he’d been in combat having hand guns hanging from the harness strapped across his upper body. Black gloves covering his hands, and red dots splattered along his face match the dripping streaks on his top that are undoubtedly blood.

His expression, hard and stoic, causes an increase in your heart rate now nervous and confused as to what happened to his overall state let alone the change in his mood.

“What happened to you?,” you quietly ask.

“Nothing you need to worry about. And that’s also the first and last time you ask about my business, got it?” His harsher tone has you slightly flinching; taking a step back as you gently nod your head.

“I-I’m sorry..I didn’t mean-,”

“Pretty sure I left you asleep,” he retorts removing his gloves.

“I was looking for you a-and I saw you were gone,” you stammer wrapping your arms around yourself. “I thought-,”

“That this was over? Oh sweetheart you’re too cute.” His words should have you jumping for joy and excited, but his deep chuckle - more menacing than comforting - causes an unwelcome sinking in your gut.

One swift stride forward with his long legs, and Curtis catches your chin in his hand pressing his fingers into your cheeks hard enough to make your plump lips pout and a surprised whimper to leave your heaving chest. You had no choice but to face those blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place; only worsening your nerves.

“I’ll let you know now I’m hard to get rid of,” he whispers ghosting his lips over yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want. Who I want.”

You remain quiet - as if you could even try to fight - letting his grip loosen until his fingertips drag from the side of your neck to your collarbone making you shiver. Your body still somehow willing to give in to this man who surely was more dangerous than you could imagine.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna get out these clothes and you’re gonna help me clean up in the shower. I’ll put you back to sleep then order breakfast for us in the morning, where you’ll rightly apologize for trying to leave in whatever way I see fit until our food arrives. Understand button?”

You need to fight. Any logical person would scream and shout to the heavens punching and kicking past the point of exhaustion in this situation. Yet you were stuck. Partially from fear of not knowing what Curtis was truly capable of, and partially from your greedy core loving that idea. You could feel the light throb and arousal begin to leak from you making your thighs clinch.

Of course he notices too from the smug smirk on his lips. “Y-Yes,” you softly answer.

“Good girl.”

Who would’ve thought your first - well almost - one night stand would be your last?

#niamh loves you 3000 #curtis everett #curtis everett au #curtis everett x woc!reader #curtis everett x black!reader #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 13 days

Text

Sweaty Palms 1

Warnings: this fic will include obsessive behaviour, possible non/ducbon, bullying, and other elements which may not be specifically triggered. Please be cautious in continuing on to the story.

Character: Curtis Everett

Summary: You start going to the gym to break old habits, but new things are scary.

Please reblog and leave some feedback, preferably in a reblog but you can always drop by my asks. I always love working in y'alls ideas with these AUs so I am so excited to hear from you.

As always, take care of yourself <3 be kind and be patient. Love you.

No tag lists. Please review my pinned and bio for guidelines.

You’ve never been to a gym before. You’ve never been to a lot of places. Crowds are not your forte, public places are your personal nightmare, and strangers make your nervous. Everything makes you nervous.

You can’t hide forever. That’s the conclusion you’ve come to. It's not a very comfortable one for you but if you don’t change, you’re always going to feel like this. Heavy, deflated, lost. It’s hard to put into words the feeling. The world just seems to pass you by, it functions around you, and sometimes you almost believe you’re not really there. Like a ghost, you just watch it without effect.

The extra fifteen dollars a month isn’t too much of a stretch. You can hold off on your Kindle addiction for the expense. That’s another thing, you need to start being smart, more practical with your money.

Planning. That’s something you’re working on. You didn’t come without one. You wouldn’t make it past the door without a set of steps to follow.

You stop by the front counter first. You ask the woman behind it about how to get into the gym. You bought a membership online. She brings up your profile and issues you a membership card, explaining how you can also download the app and register with your member number. You thank her and continue through.

You walk along the first floor, the leg machines and the rowing machines being worked by the regulars. You find your way to the dressing room on the second floor and enter with your head down. You try not to look anywhere but where you need to. You find a stall and change, packing away your street clothes, then go out to find a locker to shove your stuff in.

You emerge with your phone and your new smart watch strapped to your wrist. You glance at the face of it. Your heart rate is already elevated. You unlock your phone and tap the app you downloaded the day before. You flipped through the catalogue of beginners’ workouts but didn’t have any of the equipment to do it yourself. It’s cheaper to just come here.

You go to one of the spaces laid with mats and stop before one of the racks of weights. You stare at your phone in exasperation. You don’t understand, you’re connected to the wifi but the app just won’t connect. You could try on your own but you really don’t know what you’re doing.

Ugh, why did you even bother? This is just another failure. You try restarting the app and then your phone, aware of the activity around you. Does anyone notice how clueless you look?

“Hit it or quit it, little girl,” a man startles you as he brushes by you and grabs a large set of dumbbells, the thirty on the side catching your eye. You shift out of the way and press your phone against your chest, the smooth fabric of your shirt causing it to vibrate as if you tapped the screen. “This isn’t the phone club, it’s a gym.”

“Sorry, I...”

“There’s a cafe across the street, you can go play candy crush there,” he scoffs, “seems more your speed.”

“Must feel real big, huh?” A gritty voice nears from your other side, “real heavy lifting there, pushing around a woman.”

“Huh?” The first man narrows his eyes as he grips the set of dumbbells at his sides and faces the other man.

He’s taller than you, muscular but not too bulky. His head is shaved and a dark short beard lines his jaw. Similar hair peeks out from the top of his tee shirt and dusts his toned arms. He slips past you, inserting himself between you and the gym watchdog.

“Bro,” the first guy sneers, “don’t even start with me. You think you can step up.”

“I’m not stepping up,” the other man defies, “I’m telling you to mind your business. Take your weights and leave her alone.”

“Pfft, this some sort of date? You know, this isn’t the Olive Garden--”

The second man crosses his arms, his back to you as he postures at the other man. He’s silent as he stares him down. You can’t see his face but you can feel the tension roiling off of him. There’s a thick lull as both men stand in a deadlock.

“Got something to say, bud,” the first guy drops the weights and they boom against the floor. You wince and step back, “go on, I could use the work out.”

“I said it,” the second man utters flatly, unyielding as he looms like a wall between you.

“Fucking loser,” the other spits back, “you’re really gonna fuck around for that? Have you seen the skin around her?.”

The man doesn’t respond. He stays as he is, an unmoving sentinel. The other man growls in frustration.

“Fucking chicken shit, why don’t you speak up, dude?”

Still no answer. Just a glare. You clutch your phone against your chest, frozen in horror and confusion. You didn’t mean to start a fight. You hate confrontation.

Suddenly, the man before you jerks as he’s grabbed by the large man. His back hits you slightly and you drop your phone as he latches onto the other man. Everything happens so fast. The man who came to your defence has the other man on his back on the mat in seconds, a knee on his chest as his fists clasp around the top of his tank top. He bends over him and snarls.

“Christ, bro, get the fuck off of me,” the man on the floor shoves on his arm helplessly.

You glance around and notice the audience forming around you. Oh no. You look back to the two men. You step forward and tap the closest man on the shoulder, the one who defended you.

“Please,” you croak nervously, “I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

He turns his head, glancing back at you with powder blue eyes made bright by the dark row of his lashes. He exhales and lets go of the other man. He stands and puts his arm out as if to keep your behind him.

“You really want me to repeat myself?” He sneers down at the other man.

The larger man pushes himself up and scowls, shaking his head and he turns to stalk off muttering, leaving behind his forgotten dumbbells. The other man bends to pick them up and returns them to the rack. You look down at your empty hands then search the floor.

You reach for your phone but it’s plucked up before you. The man brings it up between you and holds it out. You take it with a thank you.

“No problem,” he rasps.

“I... you didn’t have to--”

“That guy’s an—he's not nice,” he corrects himself and drags his hand over his mouth and chin, “I don’t like bullies.”

“It’s my fault,” you shrug, “I was in the way. But er, thanks. I'm... I’m sorry.”

You turn away and look back at your phone. The app isn’t working. It says it needs another update.

“You need help with something?” The man asks.

“I...” you peek at him over your shoulder, “yeah, I... I don’t... I don’t usually... it’s my first time.”

He nods and hums as he steps closer. You face him and show him your phone. You’re jittery as it trembles in your grip. He’s a stranger. Your whole plan was to avoid those.

“I got this app to help but it’s not working,” you frown.

“Try the update?” He points his thick, long finger at the screen.

You tap and keep the phone visible. The app shop comes up and the update button is grayed out. Underneath, italics read ‘this update is not available for this device’. You frown and bring the screen closer to your face.

“It won’t let me,” you pout and flick your lashes, mortified. How are you this helpless? Why did you have to have a witness? Several. You look around, some eyes darting in your direction.

“Hm, well, what are you trying to do? You said this is your first day?” He prompts, “I could... I could help out a little. If you need. I’m no trainer, I just do my own thing but I could try.”

You bat your lashes up at him then look back at your phone. You don’t know what else to do. Your whole plan has fallen apart because your operating system is outdated.

“I... I’m not very... athletic,” you explain, “so I can’t go very fast.”

“That’s okay,” he assures you, “I can go slow.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can figure it out.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he shifts and peers over his shoulder, “but how about I stay close anyway,” he moves and you can see the guy from earlier staring daggers from a chest press, “just in case.”

“Oh, I... I’m sorry,” you tuck your phone into the pocket of your leggings, “I made him mad.”

“Let him be mad. Got nothing to do with you,” he turns back to you again, “I could take you through some stretches and basics; lunges, squats, stuff like that. As best I can.”

“Erm, I guess... I don’t wanna be in the way,” you rub your neck.

“Not in my way,” he says evenly, “lets grab some weights first.”

He directs you to the rack and without a thought you go to it. He approaches beside you as you realise, you didn’t say yes, you didn’t agree to this, but you don’t know what else to do.

“Start with some twos,” he advises, “and if you’re not getting a good burn, we can up it later.”

“Oh, okay,” you grab the dumbbells with the large twos on the side. He grabs the twenties. You feel totally inadequate.

“So let’s get out space,” he backs up and looks around the mat, “here should be good.” He bends and sets down his weights, "for now, let’s put these aside and start our stretches. You don’t wanna pull anything.”

You nod and place your weights beside you. You stand and stare at him. He’s in good shape. Great shape. He makes you even more conscious of your neglect. You already feel breathless.

“I’m Curtis by the way,” he steps forward and offers his hand.

“Oh, uh,” you shake his hand and give your name.

“Pretty,” he says as he squeezes before letting you go. His hand is huge compared to yours and the gap in your strength is obvious just in that small gesture.

“Alright, easy, slow, arms out,” he extends arms, “roll your shoulders and your head, loosen up.”

You watch him and hesitate to follow his direction. You hate that there’s so many people around. You don’t want to look stupid. You’re so ungainly and awkward.

“Try not to think about it too much. We’re all just here to work out, right?” He says and you shy away, embarrassed that he noticed your discomfort. You raise your arms and start the stretches, “good, you’re doing good, angel. Make sure to breath, alright?”

You roll your shoulders and head and blow out a breath. Your nerves are pinging all over and your muscles are shaky. This isn’t what you expected at all. Your plans fallen to pieces and yet, it’s not entirely a lost cause.

“Arms up,” he guides you into the next exercise, “on your toes, reach as far as you can...”

You obey, letting his voice guide you. His deep, calm timber is almost comforting. The even tenor is a stark contrast to chaotic nervously. You can get through this.

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #drabble #gym au #au #sweaty palms #snowpiercer #series

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