Pairing: Curtis Everett x Plus Size!Reader
Summary: After a failed date, one bartender is determined to give you a merry Christmas indeed.
Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Breeding kink, IDK man meet cutes are my thing now apparently, Curtis laying pipe should be its own warning
A/N: 👀 this is my second attempt at this holiday fic, so… i really hope it’s up to snuff, lol. what better way to celebrate this festive time of year than smut? as always, comments and feedback are always appreciated. thank you so much for reading! this is my submission for @geminixevans, @fineanddandy, @syntheticavenger, @jamalflanagan, @sunshinexsin and @afriendlyblackhottie‘s holiday challenge! divider by @firefly-graphics
This work is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine. I do NOT give consent for this or any of my works to be posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please mind all warnings and tags!
You feel out of place and awkward at the bar, pulling at the hem of your dress nervously. It’s crowded, more-so than you’d thought it would be on Christmas eve. Your fingers drum against the table, and you glance up at your own reflection in the window. Your curls are still as you’d left them, neatly faming your face in a style that had taken you hours to perfect.
“Are you waiting for someone?” The bartender’s soft baritone makes you look up from your phone. Your cheeks heat as you nod. It’s probably your telltale glance every time the door swings open or shut that gives it away. He’s handsome, dark blue eyes and a scruffy beard, the tip of a tattoo you can’t quite make out peeking out from underneath the collar of his white shirt. He sets the glass he’s wiping down on the counter, and moves to fill it.
“Y-yes.” You admit, giving him a bashful smile. “I hope that’s okay,” you add quickly, realizing he might not be particularly keen on you taking up prime real estate at the bar. He moves with more grace than you expect for someone so big, the glasses seeming even more small and fragile in his grip.
“Don’t worry about it.” He glances down the bar. “You’re a step up from the usual holiday fare.” He moves away to deliver the drink, and the man he takes it to barely responds, his eyes on the television as he begins to nurse it. Most of the people like here are like that, and you wonder if the same deep loneliness pours from you, too.
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