#curtis everett

There is no better feeling than waking to the conifer-ash scent of your husband, pinned to him by his own strong, tattooed arms. You trace the blue lines that knot intricately from his wrist upwards, disappearing under your cheek. Curtis stirs but doesn't wake and you smile as you softly tickle the crook of his elbow; causing him huff in his sleep.

You'd had the most restful sleep you have had since marrying Curtis - and you were surprised to find yourself up earlier than him. Clearly, the days of waking early to avoid you had taken their toll, and it hadn't taken long for Curtis to fall straight to sleep cuddled next to you.

When you begin to trace the tattoos again Curtis grumbles in annoyance, and shifts to press further into you, practically pinning you on your stomach. You bury your face into your pillow to conceal your soft whimper as Curtis' hard cock rubs against the thin material of your nightdress. The selfish part of you doesn't want to wake him; the closeness between you, something that you've waited patiently for, is now within your reach. The more reasonable part of you, however, values Curtis' wants more than yours; and you make attempts to wake him - though futile.

With Curtis no longer plagued by his own worries about your future, it seemed he was a ridiculously heavy sleeper. And what was, for a moment, a bit of selfish indulgence on your part, was now growing panic as you wriggled beneath him - unable to shake him from his slumber. Curtis groaned low in his throat as his hips rolled into yours and you yelped as your nightdress was tugged up centimetre by centimetre, with his cock slotted between your ass cheeks. It throbbed and wept, and you felt heat bloom both across your face and between your legs as you attempted to kick your husband's shins.

All of the progress you had made only for his subconscience to throw it out of the window. No doubt Curtis would avoid you for at least week when he woke up.

"Husband," you hiss, turning to face him, only to be buried in his beard. "Curtis!"

Curtis rolls his hips again and nuzzles into your shoulder with a murmur of gibberish. You think you hear the word 'wife' but you can't be certain. Does he know what he's doing?

"Curtis!" You make sure you're louder this time, throwing your gentle caution to the wind.

It seems to work. Icy blue eyes blink open, still groggy, and look at you. You can see the rapid range of emotions cross his face; happiness at waking next to you, mild confusion and then dawning horror at the realisation of what he had begun to do in his sleep.

His cheeks grow red and he sputters, pushing his arms up to release you from beneath him. But you don't move. Instead you start to laugh, making Curtis turn more red.

"You really did not tell him about our agreement." You giggle, pressing a kiss against the back of the hand closest to you. He relaxes slightly, but doesn't put his full weight on you again.

He clears his throat. "I'm sorry. I think after last night-"

You hold your hand up to him and cut him off. "Don't apologise. I was enjoying cuddling and admiring you whilst you were asleep. Perhaps I should have tried to wake you sooner."

"Admiring me?" Curtis smiles shyly. "How so?"

"You actually look peaceful when you sleep, chieftain." You joke, entwining your arm around his strong forearm and resting your head against it. "And I have never seen your tattoos before."

"You haven't?"

You fix him with a look that undoubtedly says "are you being serious ?" and Curtis smiles sheepishly.

"Of course you haven't." He corrects. "My apologies."

You huff playfully and kiss his arm. "It's no matter. I can think about admiring them on our second wedding night." The insinuation isn't lost on him as he sputters to try and think of a response, but you are too quick for him. "How are your hands feeling today? Better?"

"Yes."

"You haven't even looked at them!"

"No, but I cannot have you touching me again or else I may forgo our agreement." Curtis grits out, and with a quick peck, he jumps out of bed insistent on starting breakfast.

You blow on your spoon watching Curtis carefully as he shovels his porridge in an attempt to not have to speak further on what had transpired earlier in the morning. Although, you were having fun still teasing him for it.

"Curtis, you'll make yourself sick if you keep eating like that." It slows him for a moment until you continue. "Save it for our wedding night."

He grips his spoon so hard you could've sworn it bends in his hand. You smirk as you take a bite of your own porridge and fix him with a sly look.

"Dear husband, you're too easy to tease." You tell him. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not." Curtis mutters, stirring the remainder of porridge in his bowl. "You're enjoying this far too much."

You grin. "I am."

Curtis shakes his head with a small chuckle and you're about to ask about what his plans are for the day when the most surprising thing happens; Curtis hiccups.

His gigantic frame jolts in its seat across from you and the teeniest, tiniest hic sound emits from your husband. Your wide-as-he-is-tall, bearded, tattooed, husband hiccups like a toddler.

You bite your lips, desperately. This was the best day you have had in a long while. Curtis' eyes meet yours across the table.

"Don- hic," his body jolts again, and afterwards, he hide his face his hands as you laugh at him.

As soon as you think you have your laughter under control, he hiccups again, making you lose composure. You're wiping away tears of laughter after a few minutes - his hiccupping mildly under control - when he finally manages to speak again.

"You have definitely been sent to test me."

After bidding Curtis goodbye with a kiss on his burning cheek, you headed to Tannya's. The next step for your wedding was the planning. After your next dress fitting with Tannya, she gathered every woman and child she could and ordered them to go to river nearby. You shrugged when Curtis looked over quizzically, and shook his head with a smile before going back to speaking with Edgar.

One of the younger men tried to trail behind the group but Tannya's eagle eyes spotted him within mere minutes, and gave him a hushed talking to. You couldn't make out what was said but he did not look nearly as sullen as Curtis had when Tannya had given him an earful. Though you couldn't prove it, you could have sworn that Tannya was planning something. However, you were too distracted by excitable children to pay it much mind.

"So, chieftainess," Another woman, Sonia, begins. "What plans do you have for the wedding?"

"Plans?" You echo.

"Yes!" Brienna, a fiery-haired young woman exclaimed. "What flowers will you have? What food would you like?"

"Erm," you swallow awkwardly. You hadn't given your plans any thought. You had, naievely, assumed that you wouldn't have any say in the preparation beyond showing up; much like your last wedding.

"Ladies!" Tannya's voice booms, as she flaps her hands. "Let her be. Curtis hasn't decided if he's going on his stag yet - so we need to have a plan first."

"Stag?" You question, and all of the women look at you like youve grown a second head.

"Do you not know what a stag is?" Brienna asks, face serious. Her question earns her a rap around the head from her mother, Sara.

"Of course she doesn't," Sara huffs. "She's from another tribe, you fool."

"A stag is where the chieftain and a few of his closest men venture out into the wilds for a few days." Tannya explains helpfully. "To drink, share stories, and hunt for the main meat of the feast." Then she shrugs. "Curtis is too anxious to be away for so long."

Another woman sighs wistfully. "You're such a lucky woman. To have a fiancé too anxious to leave you."

"Husband." Brienna corrects haughtily, forcing you to conceal a snort. "And I think Curtis is too anxious to leave in case something happens to us."

"Curtis does care for you all so much," you add diplomatically and Tannya chortles.

"But you know as well as I do that he needs to learn to relax." Tannya smiles as the children run Brienna down and are subsequentally chased away. "But enough about him. What flowers do you want in your flower crown?"

"Erm," you shrug your shoulders haplessly as one of the children has a small coughing fit. His mother rushes over and rubs his back, you turn to Tannya. "What flowers are in season here?"

Tannya shrugs. "I only know of the wildflowers, but their stems are both easy and tricky to weave because of how thin they are."

You nod contemplatively. "Wildflowers are in abundance too."

"You'll be followed by bees all day." Brienna points out impatiently, and her mother hushes her as another child sniffles and races after their friends. "I will not sit in the front if there are bees surrounding you."

"Brienna-" Her mother attempts to scold her but is silence when you laugh.

"I can't imagine my husband would take to kindly to ward off bees when he has to kiss me." You tell them, which earns snorts all-round. "I'll have to think carefully about what I what prefer more."

The rest of the day goes quickly; wedding planning and chasing children really takes it out of you. Your mind is made up, however, on convincing Curtis to take the few days away to relax. During a moment of blessed quiet from the other women and children, you gather a mixture of herbs and wildflowers by the river.

There's more green in your bunch than you would have liked and a strong smell of onion that, you agree with yourself, is a far worse option than bees swarming you on your wedding day. However, the herbs would make for a good medicine. One that would hopefully stop the sniffling and coughing of the children.

As you kneel to pick a sun-yellow iris poking between a thicket of reeds, careful to avoid the muddy riverbank sand on your dress, you notice a strange marking in the sand. It's a paw of some sort. And big. It spans almost twice the width of your hand, with five dots above the paw pad - claws.

You frown at the mark. There is only one other, half melted away into the river sand. You wrack your brain. You've not seen a track like this before; not in a book or near your old village. But it sends a chill down your back, settling an a cold, uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"Chieftainess!" Timmy barrels into you, hugging you tight. "I found you! Where did you go?"

With your concentration broken, you turn to smile at Timmy. "I was collecting herbs for-"

He interupts you to cough harshly.

"-that." You stand up and take his hand. "Come on, let's go back to everyone. I'm sure it's almost time for supper."

Curtis has a light supper waiting for you when you return. It's bread, butter, cheese and mead by candlelight; nothing fanciful yet it makes your heart soar. Curtis had waited until you were home so that he could eat with you - another thing that squeezed your heart despite you chastising him gently for it - and you happily sat across from him tearing into your bread.

Curtis' day had been filled with stock taking and preparation. Boring yet essential. Everything was on task and would continue to be for a while, according to everyone else. Curtis, however, was worried. You had asked him the cause of his worry, yet he couldn't seem to pinpoint it.

"I cannot explain it," he tells you as he butters a small piece of bread. "Something does not feel right."

"I suppose no would be a bad time to mention your stag." You say over your tankard. When he looks at you quizically, you clarify. "Before our wedding."

"Oh." He blinks. "Oh."

"I think you should go," you add calmly, setting your tankard down and picking at some bread. "I think you beget your own worry and a short break might do you some good. Besides," you smirk over at him. "It may be only time for a long while where you may actually have some respite."

"Respite?" Curtis' brows furrow fir a second before his eyes meet yours and he sees the glimmer of mischief he has grown so fond of.

"Oh, hush." He huffs, cheeks glowing.

"I didn't even suggest anything!" You protest despite grinning ear to ear.

Curtis mutters to himself as he shrinks into his chair. "But you're probably right."

"I know that I am." You say firmly. "And I know that with the people's help, I'll be just fine."

Curtis hums, still unsure.

"And," you hastily add. "I will be able to make the final preparations for my dress away from prying eyes."

This seems to convince your husband, albeit reluctantly, to venture forth to the wilderness for three days. "Very well. I know Tannya and Gwilliam would give me an earful if I did not go."

"Then it's settled." You bite into a sliver of cheese. "Tell me what you need for your journey and I will help you get ready."

By the time you are getting ready for bed, Curtis' small bag is packed and a gathering of some twenty men have been gathered. You heard the excited shouts of Edgar and some of the younger men when Curtis announced he'd be following the tradition of every engaged man by going on the three day hunting celebration. Surprised by how quickly the men had prepared to go, you could only assume that someone else was planning on convincing Curtis to follow the tradition had it not been you. Curtis seemed to think the same, and he told you as much once he returned, along with the unfortunate news that they wanted to leave immediately the following morning.

"They don't want to dally." You told him, splashing your face with water. "I cannot say I don't blame them."

"Is that a joke, wife?" Curtis asks, shocking his outer clothes. "Or do you wish me gone that badly?"

Since you aren't looking at him, for a terrifying moment you thought he was serious. However, upon facing him, you're relieved to see a small smile almost hidden by the shadows of night.

"I want you to return quickly," you say, moving towards your shared bed. "The sooner you are back, the sooner my bed is warm again."

Curtis chuckles. "Ah. I am merely a means of warmth then? I should have known."

You curl up against your side of the bed, waiting for Curtis to join you under the furs. "Of course." You reply. "Now, quick. It's cold."

Curtid huffs in such a way that you know means he's smiling and sure enough, moments later, the bed dips.

"Face me." Curtis says quietly, not cuddling into you as usual. You sit up and turn towards him and he streches his right arm out, half under your pillow, so that you may rest your head upon it. "I want your face to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep if I'm leaving at first light."

"What about your no-touch rule?"

"Shut up and come here."

Your cheeks grow warm as you nestle down beside him - his bicep far comfier than any pillow you have slept on. His conifer scent envelops you, his calloused but gentle fingers tracing your face as he looks at you with an intense gaze that would be the envy of a thousand suns.

You want to ask him if he's still worried about leaving - if there's something else on his mind. You want to tell him you love him - but settle for a meager, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too Kærasta." His voice is quiet and as warm as he is; and it makes your eyes grow heavy far too quickly for your liking.

"Come back to me." You whisper. "I still want to marry you."

Curtis' chest rumbles with a laugh and a kiss is placed delicately onto your forehead. "I promise, Kærasta."

Your hum sounds closer to a purr this time as you drift away to sleep. "Good, I will hold you to it."

Part of your brain fight sleep, eager to speak more of what had passed during the day; the flowers, the games and the pawprint. But all is forgotten as you fall asleep in your husband's arms.

Part 4 End

A/N: Kærasta = darling (in Icelandic)

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No, he didn't, but he couldn't say that out loud. He couldn't admit that he wanted you, wanted the softness only you made him feel. He'd give anything to believe he deserved to call you his own. But he knew what he was, what he'd done. No way you needed such darkness in your life, not when you were such a beacon of light. Especially to him.

But the very thought of some other guy claiming you was enough to have the bottle he still gripped shattering from the pressure.

Edgar groaned as beer splattered over them both.

"What happened here?" you asked, sipping at your new drink. Something sweet and fruit-filled, just like you were. "You need another, broody bear?"

Curtis shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

"He better be," Edgar grumbled beside Curtis, still trying to clean up the beer soaking his shirt. His gaze eventually flicked to you as he growled, "Will you get him home? He's been in a foul mood since we got here."

Curtis grunted at that, but he didn't come right out and deny it. He couldn't. Not when Edgar had a point.

"What's wrong with my broody bear, hmm?" You brought your hand up to run your short nails over his buzz cut. It never failed to bring a small smile to your lips, his short hairs tickling your fingertips. "Anything I can do to make your night a little better?"

"There's a lot you could do to make his night better," Edgar again grumbled.

When your brows furrowed, Curtis elbowed Edgar in the side and shot the younger man a warning glare. It had little affect as Edgar glared right back at him.

Shoving his chair back, Edgar pushed to his feet. "I'm outta here, man. Get your shit together and maybe grow a pair. Sometimes biding your time makes you a fool."

Curtis allowed Edgar the punch he landed on Curtis's shoulder. Sure, he probably should've reminded the younger man who ran their outfit, but he also knew Edgar offered up some valuable wisdom. Curtis just didn't know if he act upon it. Even as you stood next to him, still wearing a confused expression, he couldn't bring himself to do more than pull out the chair closest to him, offering you a seat.

You took it with a soft smile, mumbling around your straw, "Thanks."

Curtis couldn't help watching you out of the corner of his eye as you two fell into a natural, easy silence. It'd been like this since almost the beginning. If anything, you seemed to take comfort in his presence as though he'd protect you from anything. He would, but you seemed to know it before he ever had to prove it. Prove it, he has.

After you finished your drink, you swirled your straw around the empty glass. Your brows pinched harshly as you finally asked, "Wanna tell me what Edgar was talking about? He seemed really fired up at you about something."

While he could typically get away without saying anything if he wanted, his superpower failed every time around you.

Scratching his beard, he opened his mouth to tell you what little he could get away with.

Words never came out though as the same d-bag from earlier spotted you and loudly shouted, "There you are, sweet cheeks. I wondered where you got off to. Never got to officially shoot my shot."

Curtis caught the way you sneaked a peek at him before turning towards the d-bag. Your smile didn't quite reach your eyes, but you seemed somewhat receptive.

An angry heat coursed through him as the d-bag went to put his hands on you. Respectable places, but still on you when he had no right. You hadn't given it to the d-bag, and Curtis would be damned if you gave those rights the guy after the fact, either.

Scrapping his chair back, he shoved to his feet and hauled you out of your seat.

"Curtis, what are—"

You let out a shriek of surprise as Curtis swept you over his shoulder while glaring at the d-bag who stood back with his hands up.

"Mine," Curtis growled and turned to leave the bar with you.

His entire focus was on getting you out there and back to his place. The night wouldn't end without you knowing exactly how much he desired you, loved you. It would be a night you wouldn't soon forget as he laid his ultimate claim on you: mind, body, and soul.

He never saw you reach out to the d-bag, slipping the guy a fifty-dollar bill. Payment for getting Curtis to finally realize where you belonged, right at his side. The same realization you'd had practically since the day you met him.

I honestly don’t love either of the first two options 🤣 I’m not a beach person, also boo hiss at the heat, but I would probably seriously injure myself skiing because I’m short, have terrible coordination, and am not athletic at all lol. But I feel like cheering Ransom on and fawning over him especially would count as participation in his mind, so I’ll go with him and the much cooler climate lol.

As much as I’d be a 🥹 mess over Andy letting loose and having fun, I am not really a bar or dancing person either lol. Lounging at home with Curtis is my version of ✨heaven✨so bring on the cozy lazing 😍

Ohhhh this last one has two very tempting options, but the thought—and mental image—of Steve on his knees all naked and sluiced up has me 😮‍💨🫠🥴 But don’t worry, I will send Lloyd and the kitchen counter your way 🤣😘