reputationfairy

[reputationfairy]

꒰TRACK ONE꒱

꒰ ୨୧ ─ chapter summary: the sweetest baker celebrates halloween and lets the intrusive thoughts win. word count: 5046

꒰ ୨୧ ─ chapter trigger warnings: symptoms of mental illness, visible injury on a minor, implied parental neglect, adoption mention, suggestive language, discussion of teenage isolation, references to swearing and inappropriate language by a minor, mild sexual tension, flirty banter, emotional vulnerability, and professional pressure. as always, let me know if i missed something.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ links: series masterlist, spotify playlist, info & faceclaims.

The last sugar bat wing settles onto the cupcake, and I tuck a stray curl behind my ear with a huff. Two hours of baking and decorating has left my fingers sticky with icing, while the warm scent of cinnamon and apples lingers in the air. The counters are a battlefield of mixing bowls, piping bags, and stray sprinkles, but the result is worth it—sixty tiny masterpieces lined up in neat rows, ready to steal hearts.

The bakery hums with life, the morning rush in full swing. My bubblegum-pink Barbie dress brushes the counter as I wash my hands, my glittering heels impractical but completely on-brand. Through the kitchen window, Dina flits past in her Snow White costume, her crimson cape trailing behind her. At fifteen, she has become my secret weapon, always ready to jump in when things get overwhelming.

Out front, the crew moves like clockwork, dodging each other as they hand out pumpkin muffins and caramel-drizzled croissants. Betty, green-skinned as Elphaba, arranges scones. Augustine, dressed as Jessie, passes out pastries with cowgirl confidence, while James, sharp in a Fantastic Four suit, reaches for another tray. Somehow, despite the costumes, the crowd, and the sugar-fueled atmosphere, everything runs smoothly.

After drying my hands I slip off my headphones, letting the familiar sounds of the bakery settle around me. Laughter rings from the front, a kid squeals over spiderweb cookies, and the air buzzes with Halloween’s loud, messy, perfect energy.

“Dina!” I call, waving a hand to catch her attention. She pops out an earbud and looks up. “I’m going to get a coffee. Would you like anything?” I offer.

She shakes her head, her faux bob rippling. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Grinning, I gather my things, pulling my jacket from the hook by the fridge and my bag from the counter. “I’ll take you to school when I get back,” I say, slipping my arms into the sleeves. Dina doesn’t argue, and I can tell she’s relieved. She always prefers my car over taking The L.

“Cool,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Need help after four?”

“No, you should be out having fun. There must be a party or something you teenagers are into,” I wave her off as I sling my bag over my shoulder.

She scrunches her nose, making it clear she has no interest in parties. “That’s more Jesse’s thing,” she says, referring to her friend and classmate who works at the coffee shop. They always end up hanging out after their shifts since it’s next door.

Her words give me pause. Her sister, my neighbor and friend, is probably pulling a long ER shift tonight at the hospital I used to work at. Which means Dina’s plans likely involve homework and an empty house. I hesitate before offering, “Want to come over? I’ll be handing out leftover cookies until six, then watching a movie.”

Her face lights up, and she nods. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back in a bit,” I tell her loud enough so the other employees can hear where I’m going. I wave as I step onto the sidewalk, already typing a message to Talia about our plans. But at this rate, I think she expects Dina to be at my place whenever she's working. 

The crisp air bites at my skin, and the familiar tap of my thumbs against my phone fills the quiet between passing conversations. I only take two steps before colliding with someone, my phone nearly slipping from my hand.

Instinctively, I reach out, my hands landing on thin, tense shoulders. Looking down, I meet the sharp glare of a freckled girl. Her auburn hair is damp and tangled around a devil horn headband. A bruise sits near her temple, a scrape on her brow, but she stands firm, eyes wary and unflinching. She scowls and shrugs off my hands like she has been through worse.

"Ow, watch it!" she snaps, her small frame carrying the kind of confidence that comes with being young and full of attitude. She’s a pint-sized version of me from years ago, all sharp edges and misplaced bravado.

I force a patient smile. The younger me would have snapped back, but today is my favorite holiday, and I refuse to let anything dim my mood. "My sincerest apologies, tiny human. I wasn’t paying attention," I say lightly, already stepping aside.

Before I can move forward, she plants herself in my path, arms crossed. "Hey, I’m not tiny," she says with absolute conviction.

I blink at her for a moment before offering a small, placating smile. "Don’t take it personally. I call everyone under eighteen a tiny human," I explain, hoping to diffuse the tension.

She doesn’t look convinced, but she shifts her stance. "Well, now that avoiding a lawsuit should be your main concern, maybe you'll actually hear me out."

My eyebrows lift. "A lawsuit? For what exactly?"

She rolls her eyes, long and exaggerated, like she’s practiced it in a mirror. "You know, I got hurt at your job, and you discriminated against me? You’re supposed to pay me or something."

I’ve dealt with enough teenagers to recognize a half-baked scheme when I hear one. Suppressing a sigh, I choose my words carefully. "Very clever," I say with a nod. "But we’re on the sidewalk. Public property." I gesture to the cracked concrete beneath us.

Her face flushes as she glances down, then back up. "Damn. Maybe I should have done this differently," she mutters.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and picture the vanilla latte with almond milk I intend on ordering just a few steps away. "Okay. How about we multitask? You can attempt to blackmail me while I get my coffee,” I say with exaggerated patience. 

She fidgets, her sneakers scuffing the pavement. Up close, she looks about the same age as Dina, maybe younger. Her lip is caught between her teeth like a stress ball, and she stares at me like I’m holding the last piece of cake on earth. "Well, that is the thing..." She hesitates, eyes flicking to my chest, then just stops.

My head swims with confusion before realizing she’s probably waiting for my name, which is conveniently hidden on the name tag under my jacket. "Carrie," I say warmly, taking pity on her. "My full name is Carrington, but everyone calls me Carrie."

She blinks, nodding too quickly. "Carrie," she repeats, like she’s testing it out. For a second, she looks like she might burst into tears or take off running, but she squares her shoulders and rushes through the rest. "Okay, so, I have class in like thirty minutes, and my da—" She cuts herself off, face twisting like she bit into a lemon. She mutters something I can’t hear, exhales sharply, and pushes forward. "Anyway, he won’t admit it but I know he forgot to pick up the cookie order for my home room’s Halloween party last night. It might be under my name. Or his. Can you check?"

Her words spill out so fast I almost miss them. She seems young, stressed out, and clearly having one of those mornings. 

"Oh," I say with a cheerful laugh, already walking toward Starlight and holding the door open for her. "Let’s sort this out. We can’t have you being late for class."

Her wide eyes meet mine, panic shifting to cautious hope. "Really? That’s... thank you, Carrie."

"It’s no big deal," I chirp, ushering her inside as if I’m inviting her in for cookies and milk. "The worst outcome here is if I don’t get a coffee. Maybe this is a sign to cut my caffeine intake down. Now, what’s your name?"

She glances over her shoulder before stepping past me into the bakery. "Ellie," she says with a bright smile.

I extend my hand, and she shakes it firmly, confidence growing. "A pleasure to meet you, Ellie," I say. 

Starlight's still bustling, conversations blending with the music playing through the speakers. Customers are still crowding the counter while Betty and James weave around each other, handing out orders. “Do you own this place?" Ellie asks and I barely hear her.

I grin. "Guilty as charged," I confirm.

Her expression shifts, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she nods. "Cool."

The noise makes conversation impossible, so I guide Ellie through the swinging doors into the kitchen, where the relative quiet is a relief. Dina sits in the corner, scrolling on her phone, her backpack at her feet. She glances up as we enter.

"That was fast," Dina comments, starting to stand.

I wave her off. "A situation came up so I haven’t gotten coffee yet. Pay us no mind, I can handle this," I say, already tapping through the iPad. "Alright, let’s be logical. What’s your last name?" I ask, returning my attention to Ellie.

"Williams," Ellie says clearly.

I type her full name in. Nothing. "You're not in here so is your last name the same as the person who ordered?” I ask next.

Ellie shakes her head. "No, his is Miller," she replies. My eyes lift from the iPad and on Ellie’s.

Ellie stares at me with her brows furrowed, probably at my reaction to her answer. The name tugs at something in my memory. Miller… why does that sound familiar? And why is Ellie looking at me like I'm insane? I clear my throat before asking, "First name?"

“Joel," she answers without hesitation.

Shit. That is why it sounds familiar. Maybe it is not the same Joel?

"Joel Miller, the chef?" I ask, fingers hovering over the screen.

Ellie’s brows furrow, and she nods. "Yeah. Do you know him?"

I try to keep my face neutral, but my brain is already spiraling. Joel Miller is hot. Not in a polished, effortless way, but in a rugged, I-could-ruin-your-life way. He looks like he has been through hell and walked out of it with a cigarette between his lips, a little older, a little meaner, and somehow even more attractive because of it.

And his mouth. That mouth has probably said some dirty things. It’s the kind of mouth that could whisper something sweet one second and tear you apart the next. His arms that are veined and strong from hours in the kitchen could either hold you steady or break you in half. And his hands… Jesus. Those hands could do unspeakable things.

I swallow hard and force myself to focus. Do not think about him like that. Do not think about him like that.

I quickly click on the order, desperate for a distraction. "Yes, though I had no idea he had a child," I make an assumption about their relationship. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s actually kind of endearing.

Ellie shifts, glancing at Dina, who is now watching curiously. She lowers her head towards the ground like she’s embarrassed. "Joel adopted me a little while ago," she mutters.

So that’s why she cut herself off earlier. "You don’t have to explain. I get it," I say, already grabbing a box. Ellie lifts her gaze from the floor, looking at me like she’s confused. "Looks like you need twenty cookies and they’re still on the cooling racks. Want to pick them yourself?" I offer.

Ellie’s face lights up. "Holy shit, yeah. But I have to be quick. I have art first thing this morning."

"Then let’s not waste time," I say, waving her toward the racks. "Dina, do you want to bring some cookies to school too?"

Dina perks up at my words. "Yes, please." As Ellie fills her box, I focus on Dina’s, making sure to add a mix—chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, peanut butter, and a couple of ghost-shaped sugar cookies just for fun. 

Dina suddenly gets up, eyes widening. "Wait, that’s where I’ve seen you! You go to Waldorf, right?" she asks, her red snow white cape flowing from the air coming out the vent above her.

Ellie freezes, her cheeks turning pink. Then she nods very slowly like she’s been caught. "Yeah. I’m a freshman,” she replies.

Dina grins, gesturing to herself. "So do I! I thought you looked familiar."

Ellie blinks, clearly caught off guard. Jesse says everyone wants to be around Dina, so she must be popular. Meanwhile, Ellie looks like she’s not used to being noticed, let alone by someone like Dina.

"You... know who I am?" she asks, barely above a whisper.

Dina shrugs. "Yeah, of course. You’re in my art class. You’re pretty good, by the way,” she compliments.

Ellie stares, mouth slightly open. I bite back a smile, enjoying the exchange. After adding tape to the top of Dina’s box, I take Ellie’s from her, continuing to fill the empty space with the best cookies.

"Since we’re all getting along so well, Ellie, do you want to ride with us? We’re heading to the same place, so no need to rush,” I offer, the parchment paper in the box crackles with each movement I make.

Ellie blinks and shakes her head quickly. "Oh, no, I’m good. I don’t want to bother you."

Dina snorts and steps closer. "Don’t even try to run. Carrie likes to collect strays, so you’re coming with us." She hooks her arm through Ellie’s. "Seriously, it’s no big deal. We have room and Carrie’s car always smells like sugar cookies, so it’s a win."

Ellie hesitates, glancing between us before finally nodding. "Well... okay."

"Excellent decision," I say with a laugh. "Let me tape this up, and we’ll be on our way."

The girls murmur in agreement and begin giving each other compliments on their costumes as I add the final seal to the edges of Ellie’s container. Passing the boxes back to the teenagers, they give a quiet thank you before Dina shrugs her outerwear on. 

Walking back toward the front, I remind myself to push past my social anxiety and call Joel about this. It’s only hard because I still haven’t finished my text to Talia about Dina. Everything feels like it’s piling up on this already busy day.

Both girls hug their boxes as they slide into the back of my Volkswagen Beetle, Ellie’s dipping her head to avoid her headband knocked off. Dina throws her a friendly wink, and I can’t help but think this unexpected connection is the kind of sweetness that makes days like this special.

The clock reads 11:07 AM as my body shakes with quiet sobs, the tissue in my hand soaked beyond use. I’m overwhelmed by the amount of rude customers that have come in after I dropped the girls at school. My office feels smaller than ever, the walls pressing in while the muffled buzz of the bakery rumbles through them. I tilt my head back, willing the tears to stop, but they keep coming, hot and relentless.

The door suddenly slams open, hitting the wall with a loud thud. I jump in my chair and spin around to see Betty standing in the doorway, her face twisted in concern. "Carrie—" she starts, then falters when she sees me, her wide eyes flicking to my tear-streaked face.

"Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry," she blurts, hands up like she’s been caught trespassing. She shifts awkwardly, glancing aside as if trying to give me privacy while still standing in the room.

I force out a watery chuckle and wave dismissively. "You’re fine. What’s the matter?" My voice cracks, betraying my attempt to sound composed.

Betty hesitates, shifting her weight. "There’s a customer out front saying he never got his order, but the system says it’s been picked up. Can you help us figure it out?"

I nod quickly, and the realization that I still own this bakery sets in. "Yes, of course. I’ll be right there."

Betty gives a crooked smile and hurries back to the front. As the door clicks shut behind her, silence settles again. I take a deep breath, stand up, and wipe my face with the back of my hand. My legs ache from sitting hunched at my desk, but the sharp pain in my chest is worse. Grabbing a pack of baby wipes from the cabinet, I shuffle to the floor-length mirror in the corner.

My reflection is a mess. Red-rimmed eyes, mascara smudged into gray shadows. My dress is pristine, but it feels like a cruel joke, mocking my tear-streaked face. Peeling a wipe from the pack, I press the cool dampness to my cheeks, a small comfort. My heels dig into my feet with each shift of weight, and I wince. At least my hair is still perfect, every brown curl pinned exactly where it should be. Small wins, I guess.

Leaning closer, I dab at the last smudges under my eyes and practice a smile. It’s forced, but it’ll do.

"Alright, Carrie," I whisper, tossing the wipe into the trash. "Time to pull yourself together."

The soft click of my heels echoes through the quiet kitchen as I head to the front, the bakery’s hum growing louder with each step. Pushing through the doors that separate the kitchen and the dining area, I spot Betty near the counter, gesturing toward a tall figure with his back turned. His salt-and-pepper hair is neatly styled, his flannel sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. Before I can fully register the sight, Betty spots me.

"There’s the owner. Her name is Carrington," she says, her voice cutting through the low chatter.

My stomach clenches as I force a polite smile, ready to handle whatever minor crisis has brought this customer in. But when he turns around, the smile freezes.

Joel Miller.

Time slows as my gaze locks onto his chestnut eyes. The sharp features, the confident stance—it's all unmistakable. Joel Miller, the man I gave a bad review a couple of months ago. My “birthday present” and the last person I ever expected to see standing in my bakery today.

"Carrington," he says, his voice carrying that same low, steady tone as the first day we met.

I blink, struggling to keep my composure. "Chef Miller?" My voice comes out softer than I intend.

"Joel, sugar. Just Joel."

My mouth falls open slightly before I repeat his name under my breath to make sure I remember not to call him Chef Miller. "Joel. Joel. Joel."

His gaze flicks over my bright pink Barbie dress and glittering heels before settling back on my face. His lips twitch like he is suppressing a smile. "Didn’t know you owned this place," he says, his voice even.

For a second, I am too stunned to respond. My brain scrambles for an explanation, as if I owe him one. "Well... surprise." I force a laugh. "This is my bakery. I own the building, so I live upstairs too." I glance around at my pink surroundings with pride.

Joel tilts his head slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "Lec and Madeline mentioned you baked, but I figured they meant, you know, as a hobby."

"Oh." My pulse quickens, and I glance at Betty, who is suddenly very busy behind the counter. It doesn’t help. The bakery feels smaller, the air charged. "Well, what brings you here?"

His brows furrow, as though he is just now remembering. "Ordered some cookies for my daughter’s school, but I forgot to pick 'em up. Was gonna run 'em by now, but the system says they’re gone. Reckon I got too much goin’ on in my brain these days." His voice softens on the last word, and for the first time, he seems less intimidating and more like a tired man with too much on his plate.

"Oh, yeah. Ellie came by earlier, and we handled everything. Since she goes to Waldorf with one of my employees, I dropped them both off with cookies in hand." I offer a quick smile. "I meant to call, but today has been hectic. Sorry for taking her without your permission."

He exhales, relief clear in his expression. "Don’t apologize. Didn’t have to do all that, but ya did so… thank you, Carrington." His voice dips, and something about the way he says my full name makes my stomach flutter. With everyone else, it makes me want to die. But he could say it a million times and I’d never get sick of it. "Really. You are a godsend," he adds.

The air between us shifts, heavier now. I bite the inside of my lip, unsure of what to say. "It was no trouble," I manage, my voice quieter than before.

He watches me for a long moment, his chest rising slowly. "I was just gonna order a new batch if that’s what it took. It’s been one hell of a week," he exhales in one go.

His shoulders are so tense they are nearly touching his ears and my heart is still racing. "Join the club," I say softly, surprising myself.

His eyes meet mine and heat rises to my cheeks. I clear my throat, slightly put off by his anxious demeanor that’s so different from the last time I saw him. "Joel, are you alright?" I check.

"’m fine," he says quickly, though his tight voice says otherwise.

I step forward and put my hand on his back, pushing him closer to an open table. "Sit down and let me grab you something—apple cider, a cookie, something to ease your mind,” I urge as politely as I can. 

He hesitates, then nods. "Alright," he murmurs, sliding into a seat with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

As I turn toward the counter, I feel his gaze following me, a quiet weight pressing against my back. Moving around Betty, I pull open the display case with more force than necessary and grab a cookie shaped like a bat, sugar-dusted with tiny chocolate chip eyes. Perfect. Pouring a small mug of apple cider, I carry everything to Joel’s table, the warm liquid sloshing slightly as I walk.

Out of breath from my shoes and the nerves I can’t quite shake, I set the plate and cider down. "Here. On the house. Consider it an apology for the confusion."

Joel shakes his head, pulling a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from his pocket. "This is all the cash I got, but I’ll throw in two redo meals at the restaurant for the price of one." His mouth quirks in a wry smile as he slides the bill toward me.

I scoff and shove it back. "Absolutely not. It was hardly an issue,” I assure him.

Joel narrows his eyes and pushes it right back. "No, it is. You saved her from feelin’ embarrassed. Oughta be tippin’ ya tenfold."

Frustrated, I shove it with more force, planting my hands on the table. "Put it in the tip jar before you go, Joel. You already tipped on the order so I don’t need it. My staff can divide it at the end of the shift."

He pauses, clearly caught off guard, then exhales and tucks the bill into his back pocket. "Fine," he mutters, though the twitch of his lips betrays his amusement.

He picks up the cookie, examining it like it might bite him. "So, how was she?" he asks.

I tilt my head, confused by his question. "What do you mean?"

“Ellie. How’d she seem? Just wanna make sure she’s doin’ alright—happy, y’know?" He asks, voice laced with concern. Then he takes a large bite of the cookie, chewing slowly.

I cross my arms, watching as his eyes flutter shut. Then, low and unguarded, he lets out a throaty groan. "Mmm, now that’s a damn good cookie," he compliments.

The sound shoots through me, leaving heat in its wake. My thighs clench. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. It’s the kind of sound meant for a bedroom—dark, rich, and sinful. My face burns, and suddenly, the space between us feels too small.

I clench my fists, willing the thought away. You’re barely acquaintances, Carrie. Pull it together. I force my voice into something steady. "Thank you. And to answer your question, she seemed well. Spoke about you most of the drive. She reminds me of myself at that age."

"That so? Well, hell, that’s… good. That’s real good."

I seize the moment for levity. "Although, I never thought I’d meet someone who swears more than I do."

Joel shakes his head, setting the half-eaten cookie down and taking a sip of cider. His face shifts into amused exasperation. "Told her no more goddamn swearing in public," he grumbles.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "Joel?"

His eyes flick up, waiting.

"If you want her to stop swearing in public, you might want to, you know… lead by example,” I suggest.

His chewing halts. He swallows hard, eyes widening slightly as realization dawns. "Guess I walked right into that one, huh?" His voice is warm, teasing.

The way he says it, so easy and unguarded, makes something light and dangerous bloom in my chest. I allow myself to giggle for the first time in a while. Talking to him feels like cracking a window for a breeze, only to realize I’ve invited the entire season inside.

I catch myself watching him. The crinkle around his eyes when he smiles, the calm way he carries himself, the sound of his voice, familiar like a song I forgot I loved. A thought sneaks in before I can stop it: I want more of this. More of him.

Months ago, when Nic and Madi tried to set us up, I couldn’t imagine letting anyone in. I was too raw, too guarded. But now I wonder if I might be ready. Could I open myself up to someone like Joel? Even now, with him sitting across from me, steady and patient, part of me hesitates. If he knew how difficult I could be, would he still want me?

If my friend’s matchmaking attempt had worked back then, maybe we would already be something. They mentioned Joel was interested. Maybe he still is.

My thoughts swirl, trying to find a way to run into him again. Maybe he’ll say yes if I ask him to come over tonight. Only one way to find out.

I tap my fingers against the table, warmth blooming in my chest. The room feels too quiet, heavy with something unspoken. "Did you and Ellie have plans tonight?" I ask, my voice coming out too chipper to be convincing.

Joel finishes his cookie, shaking his head. "Nah. Ellie’s first Halloween in high school, and turns out there’s a damn age limit on trick-or-treatin'. So, no plans." He leans back, running a hand through his hair, his voice carrying the barest hint of uncertainty.

A smile tugs at my lips as an idea sparks. "Well, I’m closing early. My neighbor’s little sister, Dina, is coming over for a movie. You should bring Ellie by so she has someone to keep her company." The words tumble out faster than I intend, leaving no room for second-guessing.

Joel’s shoulders ease as he processes the suggestion. "Reckon she’d like that," he says after a moment. "Took off work for the day, so I can grab ‘em from school and bring somethin’ to cook for dinner."

"That would be great. My upstairs kitchen hasn’t seen much action lately, and my microwave is on its last legs. So I was just going to order pizza," I say being honest about my disdain for cooking.

Joel smirks. "That's about to change. You still want pizza for dinner?" he confirms.

I laugh, the sound is light and easy. "I’m okay with whatever you want to make, chef. I’m sure anything will be good."

"That ain’t what you were sayin’ a few months back," Joel quips.

I giggle, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Joel takes the last sip of his cider, but a few drops escape past his bottom lip, catching in his short beard. My eyes linger there a second too long, and I have to resist the sudden, irrational urge to reach out and wipe them away. Get it together, Carrie.

"Okay, well, now I’m really looking forward to tonight," I manage, sliding out of the booth. I glance at the growing line of customers. "I need to get back."

Joel stands, his large frame almost dwarfing the booth. "Take it easy. And… thanks again, sugar," he says sincerely.

As I walk away, something gnaws at me. He’s so clearly worried about Ellie, and I can’t stand to leave him without telling him how great he’s doing. On impulse, I turn around and pick up the pace to catch him near the door. “Joel,” I call after him. 

He halts then turns, eyes softening as they meet mine. "Yeah?" he asks.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze. "You’re a wonderful father. Ellie is intelligent, beautiful, and healthy. I can’t say for certain if she is happy. But, what teenage girl is? All I know is that her love for you is unmistakable,” I ramble, grateful that I spoke low enough that only he hears me.

Joel’s half-smile deepens into something softer, tinged with gratitude or maybe relief. "That’s real sweet of ya, Carrington," he says, his voice low and warm, making my heart stutter.

I shrug, trying to ignore the heat creeping into my cheeks. "It's just the truth. You’re a good person, Joel. Anyone can see it."

He chuckles quietly, almost self-deprecating, glancing down as if unsure what to do with the compliment. A customer clearing their throat pulls him back, and he steps aside.

"Thank ya," he murmurs, barely audible at first. Then, louder, "Hell, I needed that."

"I know," I say, smiling. "I'll see you tonight."

I wave, spinning on my toes and floating toward the counter. Behind me, Joel’s voice calls out, lighter now, almost playful. "See ya later, sugar."

The door jingles as someone leaves and when I turn around, he’s gone. His cologne lingering like a whisper. I close my eyes briefly, committing the moment to memory before forcing myself to focus on the growing line of customers.

Tonight cannot come soon enough.

[reputationfairy]

꒰PRELUDE꒱

꒰ ୨୧ ─ chapter summary: the sweetest baker celebrates her birthday with her best friends who have a little something up their sleeves. word count: 4673

꒰ ୨୧ ─ chapter trigger warnings: characters affected by symptoms of mental illness, mention of parental death, casual alcohol consumption, class disparity, angst, fluff, & sexual innuendos. as always, let me know if i missed something.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ links: series masterlist, spotify playlist, info & faceclaims.

"Welcome to The Austin. I assume you have a reservation?" The host’s voice is polished, crisp, and practiced—the perfect balance of professionalism and mild disinterest. Of course, we have a reservation.

This isn't the kind of place you just walk into. The Austin is one of Chicago’s most exclusive restaurants, the type people name-drop to prove they've made it. It's rumored to be gunning for a Michelin star, and judging by the sleek decor and the low hum of conversation behind frosted glass dividers, they’re probably close.

Reservations are nearly impossible to get unless you're someone like my best friend, Madeline Crown. With golden hair cascading in effortless waves and a beauty that makes people pause mid-sentence, Madi is high society. She moves through the world with the kind of confidence that makes you believe doors open simply because she asks.

"Yes," Madi says, leaning in slightly, her smile warm and calculated. "It’s my best friend’s birthday, and we have a reservation under Madeline Crown."

Before I can process what she's just done, she pulls me forward, the reluctant twenty-sixth birthday girl.

I stumble slightly, nearly tripping on the hem of my dress. "Ah, yes, that would be me," I mumble, raising a weak wave. The cheap plastic tiara shifts on my head, and I fidget with it, resisting the urge to rip it off. Madi insisted I wear it, along with the sash that now feels less like a fun accessory and more like a flashing neon sign.

The host, a young man with perfectly styled hair and the detached air of someone who deals with people like Madi daily, offers a polite, practiced smile. "Many happy returns," he mutters, already tapping on the sleek tablet in front of him. "Just the three of you, Ms. Crown?" He barely glances at me before flicking his gaze behind us for confirmation.

That phrase, just three, sends a sharp pang through my chest.

It's been five hundred seventy-six days since my mom died in a car accident. For that long, I've been trying to survive without her. My dad is some unknown face and name to me but my mom was everything. My anchor. And now, as an only child, I'm left adrift, clinging to whatever family I can create for myself.

Madi and Nic are that family. My lifeline. I couldn’t bring myself to ask for much this year. That’s why today is just lunch. Quiet. Simple.

We’ve been a trio since boarding school at Saint Joan of Arc Academy. An expensive exile for kids whose parents wanted them out of the way. I got in on a scholarship at eleven, suddenly surrounded by weekend chauffeurs and lavish shopping trips. Madi was already queen bee at twelve. Nic was being groomed for politics at fifteen. We weren’t meant to be friends, but somehow we clicked. The nasty combination of boredom and trauma will do that to you, I guess.

"Yes, just the three of us," Madi confirms breezily. 

"And somewhere discreet," Nic adds, his voice smooth but firm.

Nic, the final member of our trio, shifts beside me. Dressed in a dark tailored suit, with every strand of hair perfectly combed, he looks like he belongs in GQ. However, the way his sharp eyes flick toward the entrance betrays his calm demeanor. He hates attention as much as I do, but avoiding it is impossible.

He is Nicolas Lec, the youngest state senator in Illinois history. A walking headline and a magnet for cameras. It doesn’t help that he and Madi have been the subject of countless tabloid articles, their friendship often mistaken for something more.

"Right this way," the host says, snapping me out of my thoughts as he grabs a few menus and gestures for us to follow.

My feet carry me forward automatically, trailing behind Madi, who stops to exchange pleasantries with someone she probably doesn’t remember but will pretend to. I barely register her words as I brush past, following the host. Behind me, Nicolas moves in measured steps.

The restaurant sits atop a sleek downtown building, its floor-to-ceiling windows framing a breathtaking view of the Chicago skyline. Below us, the streets are alive, day drinkers spilling onto sidewalks, clad in red, white, and blue, celebrating the other reason for today’s occasion. But from up here, they look like scattered confetti.

Sunlight floods the room, bouncing off crystal glasses and polished silverware. The faint scent of steak and butter lingers in the air. My shoulders tense slightly as we weave through the tables, the effortless elegance of the fabulously wealthy pressing in around me.

I’m not exactly broke. My bakery’s just started turning a profit, but moments like this remind me of the stark divide between me and people like Madi and Nic. My mom left me twenty-grand while Madi and Nic come from families that have millions. If not for my mom’s accidental death life insurance policy, I’d still be a nurse. After she died, I decided to only do things that didn't drain me. Turning my hobby into a business seemed like the right move but now, sitting here, surrounded by wealth and privilege, the separation feels like a slap in the face.

We reach a square table tucked in a corner, secluded enough to make Nic comfortable while still in view of the restaurant. He steps forward, pulling out the chair closest to the window for me.

"Thanks," I say, sliding into the seat as the city skyline stretches behind me like a postcard.

The host sets the menus down with the same efficiency he’s maintained since we arrived. "Your server will be with you shortly," he says smoothly before stepping away.

"Appreciate it," Nic replies, taking the seat next to me, his back to the majority of the room. He exhales deeply, shoulders loosening as he finally relaxes.

Madi breezes in a moment later, dropping into the chair across from us with a dramatic sigh. "What’d I miss?" she huffs, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Nic and I exchange a glance, rolling our eyes in perfect unison. "Literally nothing," I say, a teasing smile tugging at my lips as I open my menu. "We just sat down."

A few minutes pass as we scan the options. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Madi’s perfectly manicured fingers tapping against the table, her sparkling purple polish gleaming under the natural lighting. It’s so dazzling it practically demands attention.

"This place is to die for. What’s everyone getting?" she asks, her voice a mix of genuine excitement and her usual dramatic flair. Her wide smile makes it clear she’s in her element.

I furrow my brows, flipping between the sides and appetizers, hoping for something to stand out. No such luck. "Why’d you bring me to a place with no fries on my birthday?" I shoot back, glaring over the menu’s edge.

Nic snorts, sliding his menu across the table. "They’ve got baked potatoes," he says, pointing at the page like he’s solved a crisis. His tone’s calm but laced with a hint of smugness, like I should be grateful for this revelation.

I push the menu back toward him, unimpressed. "I hate to break it to you, darling, but that’s not remotely the same as french fries," I counter, raising an eyebrow.

Madi throws her hands up in mock surrender, her sparkly nails catching the light again. "It’s still a potato. I just assumed you’d be content with any potato," she replies defensively, though amusement lingers in her voice.

Leaning back, I press my fingers to my temples, rubbing away my frustration. "Yeah, but I don’t even like steak, and here we are, at a steakhouse on my birthday. You know what? Forget it. I’m getting Wendy’s after—"

I stop mid-sentence as a server approaches, pulling myself up short. Even in my irritation, I don’t want to be loud or rude, especially when they’ve been so accommodating to Nic’s presence.

The server, a brunette dressed sharply in the restaurant’s all-black uniform, stops just shy of the table. Her smile is bright and professional. "Welcome to The Austin. My name’s Victoria, and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you all started with something to drink?" Her tone’s cheerful and practiced.

I straighten up, ready to reply, but Madi speaks first. "Three margaritas, and keep ‘em coming," she says confidently, not even glancing at the drink menu.

Victoria nods, her smile unwavering. "I’ll be right back with those for you." She turns on her heel and disappears toward the bar.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Nic turns toward Madi, his brows drawing together in disapproval. "I can’t drink on the job, Mads," he scolds, his voice low and annoyed.

Madi shrugs, her signature smirk creeping across her face. "Well, what a relief no one needs to know but the three of us, golden boy," she teases, twirling a finger in lazy circles on the table.

Nic scoffs, crossing his arms. "Oh, fuck off. I'm not golden," he mutters, defensive but laced with exasperated humor.

I shake my head, patting his arm. "No, you're not. You’ve just become Mr. Americana to the rest of the world. But don’t worry, we know who you really are," I say, hoping to lighten the mood before anyone starts noticing the tension.

Nic’s hazel eyes crinkle as he breaks into a reluctant smile. "Thank you, Carrington," he says, warm and teasing as his body relaxes slightly.

And just like that, the moment sours. The full name he knows I hate. God, the government name. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. How the fuck did Madi ever date him? Even though it was in school, I can’t help but gag every time I think about them kissing.

I pull my hand back, arching an eyebrow. "How many times do I have to remind you to stop calling me that?" My tone’s sharper than I intended.

Nic leans back, grinning. "You might want to ask my assistant about that. I wouldn’t know," he jokes, looking way too pleased with himself.

I clench my fist under the table, resisting the urge to smack him. Not in public, and definitely not in a place that’d kick me out in seconds.

Victoria returns with our drinks, placing a margarita in front of each of us. I take a long sip, the tart lime cutting through my irritation. "What can I get you to eat today?" she asks, glancing between Madi and me, pen poised over her notepad.

Madi jumps in immediately, her enthusiasm infectious. I almost don’t notice the prices glaring at me from the menu. Almost. My stomach tightens as I scan the entrees again. None are under two hundred dollars, and I haven’t eaten since I had one of the fudge brownies my staff made for my birthday. I can’t drink on an empty stomach, but I also can’t justify spending this much.

Almost as if he can read my mind, Nic leans closer and murmurs, "Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it," so only I hear him. 

I shake my head quickly, closing the gap between us. "No. Fuck no," I whisper fiercely. He could put it on his card, sure, but I’d still be compelled to Venmo him afterward.

He flashes a toothy grin, confidence unwavering. "It’s your birthday, and you’re not paying so order whatever you want," he says firmly before turning to Victoria to place his order.

I exhale quietly, frustrated but grateful, and glance back down at the menu. If nothing else, at least the margarita’s strong enough to make me forget the awkwardness of being the broke friend for a little while.

Nic’s deep voice hums like a distant bassline as I scan the menu again. The words blur slightly, each option teasing with indulgence. Finally, I settle on the scallops and rice, hoping it’ll live up to the restaurant’s reputation and shift my mood. Victoria glides over to take my order, her smile unwavering. I try to sound confident, even though a small knot of doubt twists in my stomach.

Two rounds of drinks later, Victoria reappears, balancing a tray of appetizers with the ease of someone who’s done this a thousand times. She sets down plates of decadent dishes and smiles warmly. "These are compliments of the chef," she says, light but professional. "He wanted you to have a taste of some of his favorites for your birthday."

Madi perks up immediately, eyes gleaming with something far too mischievous. Nic exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he already knows where this is going.

"Oh, how lovely," Madi coos, entirely too pleased, picking up an oyster and tilting her head dramatically. "The chef must be quite thoughtful. Tell him we said ‘thank you.’"

Nic raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Good man," he says, leaning back.

I blink, glancing at the food. "That’s... incredibly generous of him. Please thank him for us," I manage, trying not to sound as stunned and confused as I feel.

The aromas pull my focus back to the table. The mussels are decent, the oysters smooth but unremarkable. Though, the escargot is something else entirely. Rich, garlicky butter soaks into crisp breadcrumbs, crunching against soft sourdough. The first bite is an explosion of flavor that makes me momentarily forget I’m eating a snail. The second is indulgent. By the third, I don’t care who’s watching.

Nic and Madi exchange amused glances as I scrape the plate clean, spoon chasing every last trace of sauce. "Should we order more?" Nic asks, his tone casual yet knowing.

I shake my head, laughing softly. "No, I’m finished." But I have to actively restrain myself from licking the plate.

Before our meals arrive, a waiter approaches with a fresh cocktail in hand. Instead of setting it down immediately, he presents a small cream-colored envelope along with it, the restaurant’s logo embossed in gold.

I frown, glancing between Madi and Nic. "What is this?"

Madi leans in, eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. "Oh, how intriguing."

Nic barely looks up from his phone now in his hand, but the corner of his mouth twitches. "Maybe it’s my lawyer sending my cease and desist to you. You’ve been terrorizing me for years."

I scoff and unfold the thick cardstock. "Happy Birthday, beautiful. Hope your afternoon is as lovely as you are. -J" I blink, my grip tightening slightly around the note.

"Who the hell is J?" I murmur, pulse kicking up half a beat. My mind races, but I come up empty. I don’t know a ‘J’. I don’t even know anyone who works here. And yet… the words on the card are undeniably charming.

Before I can question it further, our entrees arrive, stealing my attention. The presentation is theatrical, the waiter reciting ingredients and techniques like a poet delivering a sonnet. It feels extravagant, almost performative, but no one else seems to mind.

My scallops and rice are placed in front of me with reverence, the plate looking like an edible masterpiece. Madi leans in for a photo, carefully angling her phone for the perfect shot, while Nic wastes no time digging into his steak. I follow his lead, setting aside the card with eagerness to taste what I ordered.

The first bite is a rude awakening. The scallops are tough, their delicate flesh now charred and bitter. The rice, promising an infusion of flavors, is bland and dry, like it gave up halfway through the cooking process. My mouth rebels, and I force myself to swallow before quickly reaching for my margarita.

Nic notices, brows furrowing as he tilts his head. "The fuck’s the matter with you?" he asks, voice low enough to avoid drawing attention but sharp enough to cut through the restaurant’s ambient noise.

I shake my head, plastering on a weak smile and draining the last of my drink. "Nothing," I murmur, avoiding his eyes. I should be grateful just to be here. A place like this is leagues beyond what I can afford.

Madi’s gaze darts between Nic and me before she jumps in, her tone a mix of annoyance and authority. "It’s not nothing. If you don’t like the food, they’ll remake it," she says, gesturing pointedly toward something—or someone—in the room. "Look, here comes the owner."

My eyes sweep across the dining area, searching for whoever Madi is referring to. The moment I spot him, the air shifts.

He moves like he owns the place. Not just because he does, but because he looks like someone built from grit and control. Broad shoulders, strong build, tan skin, rolled-up sleeves revealing scarred forearms. The chef’s jacket clings to him in all the right ways. His hair is thick, streaked with silver, messy in a way that makes it worse. Better. Dangerous.

Then he looks up.

His eyes are deep, unreadable, and I swear they hold every hard thing he has ever survived. There is no smile. No need. He radiates something heavy, calm, masculine, sharp. Like a war god in an apron.

And I forget how to breathe.

"Lec. Mrs. Crown," he greets, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble with a slow Texas drawl. "Good to see y’all again. Appreciate the support."

It is then I realize I have been staring, caught somewhere between admiration and outright ogling. That is a beautiful specimen of a man.

"The thanks is all mine to give, Chef Miller," Nic says, his usual authority softened by rare gratitude. "The catering you did for my election gala? Best in the city. People still talk about it."

So, this is the famous chef they've been raving about. The one whose cooking supposedly won over my best friends while I was nowhere to be found. That night, I was drowning in the chaos of finalizing my mom’s affairs, my grief so consuming that the idea of facing a gala or even a five-star meal felt impossible. Nic never pushed me to go and I was grateful he understood.

Chef Miller listens to Nic’s praise without a trace of false modesty. He gives a slow nod, like he is used to people complimenting his work but doesn't let it go to his head. "Glad to hear it, Senator," he says, voice steady but distant, as if his mind is only halfway in the conversation. He avoids eye contact for a moment, his fingers flexing slightly at his side. Then, as if shaking off a thought, his attention shifts to Madi.

"Everything tastin’ good, Ms. Crown?" he asks, raising a brow. It softens his otherwise rugged features, though it does nothing to diminish his intensity.

Madi lights up under his gaze, straightening as if about to be crowned queen. "Mine? Absolutely," she says, her voice saccharine and deliberate. Then she glances sideways at me, her lips curving into a slow, knowing grin. "But Carrie’s? Not so much."

I freeze as her words land like a spotlight aimed directly at me.

Chef Miller’s gaze follows her gesture, locking onto me with an intensity that sends a slow, simmering heat through my spine. His brown eyes, dark and sharp, flick over my face, quiet and assessing. His skin, golden and sun-warmed, hints that he spends more time outdoors than in a kitchen.

"Joel, meet the birthday girl I've told you about, Carrington Scott," Madi announces with dramatic flair, like my introduction is meant to change the course of history.

My breath catches as I process both her words and the man standing in front of me. Joel Miller is overwhelming, not just because of his commanding presence or how good he looks, but because of the way he looks at me. It's not just a glance. It's piercing, deliberate, like he's seeing me in a way that makes my heart pound a little too fast.

His gaze lingers, unapologetic, and I swear he's cataloging every detail. The way my fingers fidget in my lap, the flush creeping up my cheeks, the way my breath hitches. Giving a bad review is hard enough, but giving one in person? To a man like him? Borderline impossible.

"Hi," I manage to squeak out, raising a hand in a small, awkward wave.

Joel’s eyes narrow slightly as they flick down to my plate before lifting back up, his expression unreadable. His stare is heavy, enough to make my brain fog. Then, just when I think I have caught a reprieve, he pins me with it again.

I let my hand crumble and fall into my lap. "You don't like the scallops, sugar?" His deep, gravelly voice drips with Southern charm, and the casual endearment slides off his tongue so effortlessly it makes my heart stutter.

Oh, fuck off. The man might be devastatingly gorgeous, but some of his food is awful. Still, the way he says sugar leaves me clinging to every syllable like my life depends on it. I square my shoulders, forcing myself to push past whatever spell he just cast over me.

"Or the rice," I say, my tone steady despite the warmth creeping up my neck.

Joel’s eyebrows lift slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Nobody’s ever complained about my cookin’,” he says, a touch of disbelief edging into challenge. “What’s wrong with it?”

I clear my throat, sliding the plate closer. “It’s dry and burnt,” I say plainly, then gesture for him to come take a look.

His shoes thud softly as he steps forward, closing the space between us. He leans down, shoulders brushing the back of my chair, and suddenly I feel boxed in. The faint scent of smoke and cedar clings to him, and I breathe it in before I can stop myself.

I motion to the scallops, my voice quieter. “Look.”

Joel leans closer, his arm brushing past me to rest on the table, chest nearly grazing my shoulder. The heat of him is distracting.

His brows knit together as he studies the plate. Then, with a quiet grunt, he lifts it. “I’m sorry ‘bout that,” he says, voice lower now, almost gentle. “Can I get you somethin’ else, Ms. Scott?”

The way he says my last name shouldn’t hit as hard as it does.

I shake my head, thinking through the menu. “No, it’s fine. I don’t really like anything else on here.”

Joel frowns, not buying it. “It’s your birthday, sugar. I’m not sendin’ you out hungry.”

Before I can think better of it, I reach out and touch his forearm. His skin is warm beneath my fingers, muscles tightening under the contact. “I’m not upset,” I say softly. “I wouldn’t lie.”

His eyes drop to my hand, then back to my face. The look he gives me is quiet, heavy, unreadable. But it sears straight through me.

I pull my hand back as Victoria appears to refill drinks, her chipper voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Joel straightens, handing her the plate without a word, but when she steps away, his eyes are back on me.

“Why don’t you come back to the kitchen with me?” he asks, voice smooth, almost coaxing. “My sous chef made that but I’ll whip up somethin’ just for you.”

The suggestion feels less like an offer and more like a dare. My cheeks flush. “No, that’s alright,” I say quickly. “We’re leaving soon anyway.” The white lie burns in my throat.

He studies me for a beat, then gives a small nod, hands raised in surrender. “Alright,” he says, a hint of something teasing in his voice. “If you change your mind, just let Victoria know.”

Then he turns to the group, his voice steady and composed. “Y’all have a good time celebratin'. Hope to see you again soon.”

Nic and Madi both murmur goodbyes like they’ve just encountered some divine figure. And then he’s gone—broad shoulders disappearing through the kitchen door, leaving the space around me buzzing.

I exhale, but it does nothing to cool the heat in my skin. 

When I glance at Madi, she’s staring at me like I just insulted her in public. She shoves her plate aside with the force of someone preparing to fight. “I’m going to murder you,” she announces, too calm for comfort.

My head jerks back so fast I'm one vertebra away from whiplash. "What? Why?"  

She sighs and takes a long sip of her margarita, then slams the glass down like she means business.

“That was your birthday gift, you dumbass.” Her glare could level buildings. “You think we didn’t know they don’t serve fries? They don’t need fries. They have Joel Miller. Fine-ass, single, definitely-into-you, Chef Joel Miller.” Her voice rises. “He was practically drooling on your shoulder, and you just sat there like a statue!"

Joel Miller. The hot, single chef. Into me?

"What?" I repeat, because apparently my brain has decided to go on strike.  

Madi groans like she's physically in pain. “I was trying to set you up with the sexy. Single. Chef. I told him about you at Nic's gala and he asked to meet you. That man was giving serious signals. He’s like the blue-collar Timothée Chalamet, but with muscles and home improvement skills.”  

Nic leans back, arms crossed, watching me like a car crash. “Does she need flashcards, or is she just frozen?” he asks Madi sarcastically.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mutter, “Buffering. Please hold.”

"Well, you don’t have time to buffer,” Madi snaps, slapping the table. “We’re ditching you while they flip for dinner, and you’re going back there. You’re going to let that man make you something. Just the two of you. And then—” she leans in, eyes gleaming, “you’re gonna let him whip you up... later. At home," she demands, referencing Joel’s words just moments ago.

My body combusts on the spot. “Madi!” I hiss, horrified. Half the restaurant turns. Lowering my voice, I add, “I’m not ready for that.”

Time seems to freeze and the moment hangs in the air way too long for my liking. Then, Madi's face softens, the scheming energy melts away. "Oh, Carrie," she says gently, her hand reaching out to cover mine.  

The words spill out of me before I can stop them. "I just... I haven't been with anyone since my mom died. It's like—like there's this invisible wall, and every time I think about dating, I remember she’ll never meet him, and it's just... crushing. I don't even know where to start." My voice shakes, tears threatening.

Nic clears his throat. “Told you this was a bad idea,” he mutters.

Madi’s whole face folds with regret. “I’m sorry. I pushed too hard. Forgive me?” she pleads with puppy dog eyes.

I tuck a curl behind my ear, breath shaky. “It’s fine. Really. Can we just... change the subject?”

Madi, never one to dwell, immediately perks up. "Yes! Okay!" She claps her hands like an excited toddler. "You know what? Redo gift. Let's go shopping down Magnificent Mile. On me so you get to shop all the stores, none of the guilt."  

A grin starts to creep onto my face. Hours of wandering through overpriced boutiques and mocking terrible designer trends? Now that I can get behind. "Deal."  

Nic, already standing, smiles as he pushes his chair in. "I have to go but you two have fun. I'll see you this weekend. Oh, and happy birthday, Care. I'll cover the bill on my way out."  

"You're the best!" I call after him, my gratitude outweighing my embarrassment for my full name.  

Nic pauses at the partition separating us from the general population, shooting me a wink. "Anytime, sugar."  

Madi immediately grabs her chest and fake-retches like she's just been poisoned. "Why is it," she says, voice dripping with melodrama, "that when Joel does it, my panties evaporate, but when Nic does it, I want to throw my shoe at him?"  

"Ditto," I say, draining the last of my drink and grabbing my purse.  

Happy freakin' birthday to me.

thank you for reading if you made it this far! here's the next chapter.

[reputationfairy]

Baker's Dozen ⋮ chef!Joel x baker!OC

꒰ ୨୧ ─ summary: What happens when a grumpy, Gordon Ramsay-style chef with a Texas drawl meets the sweetest baker in Chicago? Sparks fly, but this slow-burn romance takes its time to rise.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ trigger warnings: no outbreak, characters affected by symptoms of mental illness, mention of deaths (one of them is Sarah, sorry to everyone in advance), casual substance use, eventual smut, angst, fluff, & sexual innuendos.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ links: joel masterlist, spotify playlist, info & faceclaims.

꒰PRELUDE꒱ - updated June 15th ꒰TRACK 1꒱ - updated June 18th

꒰TRACK 2꒱ - coming June 26th ꒰TRACK 3꒱ - coming soon ꒰TRACK 4꒱ - coming soon

[reputationfairy]

꒰INFO & FACECLAIMS꒱

꒰INFO꒱

This is my first fanfic, and it's been a long time coming (word to Taylor Swift). Three years, a full rewrite, and a lot of growth later, I'm finally ready to share it. The characters are mostly from TLOU2 during the early Jackson era, but I've played with the ages to make the dynamics work. Yes, that still includes giving Joel a controversially young and hot love interest. There's no outbreak in this world, but Sarah still dies, and it still hurts. Please check the trigger warnings before each chapter because they're there for a reason. Whether you're new or returning from the original draft, thank you for reading.

꒰FACECLAIMS꒱

thirty-seven

chef, restaurant owner, & millionaire

twenty-six

baker & bakery owner

fourteen

high school freshman

fifteen

high school sophomore

bakery employee

thirty-two

chef, restaurant co-owner, & millionaire

twenty-five

barista & coffee shop owner

thirty

senator, nepo baby, & millionaire

twenty-seven

influencer, nepo baby, & millionaire

꒰ ୨୧ ─ links: baker's dozen masterlist & spotify playlist

[reputationfairy]

go follow my wifeeeee. my WIIIIIFEEEE!

idle town: i hate it here

chapter 1: in the quiet of the night chapter tags: referenced child abuse, fantasy elements, 90s setting, implied polyamory, meeting the family chapter warnings: child abuse, death, mild language word count: 3347 A/N: very much a departure from borealis lol, but i love this little family so much and i hope you will too!

Another night of disrupted sleep. 2:00am shines red from the alarm clock and from across the hall Cass can hear the sounds of muffled cries, the creak of aged bedsprings. Another nightmare, or exhaustion from the insomnia. Her heart aches as she lies in silence— her previous attempts to go in and offer comfort had not been accepted well. He’s a teenager after all, a mess of hormones and confusion, and she is little more than a stranger to him. 

When he’s not making himself small and haunting the house with his barely traceable presence, he dons a mask of blank indifference. When she brings up the nightmares in the morning he lies— blames the sounds she hears on the wind, or her own imagination. They had decided against therapy at first, wanting to see if Keiren could bounce back with their help. Or, that’s what they tell the doctors and social services.

  In reality, they simply cannot afford that kind of expense; taking in her estranged brother’s newly orphaned thirteen year old hadn’t been in the budget as it is, and they’d only just closed on the cafe a couple months ago. Keiren’d seemed fine— distant, grieving, prone to random flares… But fine. Or so showed the act he put on for them, which fell away each night. The sun set and the caricature of a moody, disinterested teenager dissolved to reveal a child who couldn’t sleep more than a couple hours at a time, and cried out for comfort he didn’t believe he deserved.

Now, Cass makes plans to use the local library’s computer to look for some sort of support group in their new neighborhood for the kid. The circles under his dark eyes border on black these days, and he’s having trouble staying awake throughout the day, if his tutor is to be believed. If something doesn’t change soon, he’s going to end up in the hospital, the last thing he needed. 

Another cry, this one much louder, quickly followed by a thud! Has her jumping out of bed and tiptoeing across the hall, pushing open her new housemate’s bedroom door. The bed is empty of both teenager and bedding, and when she looks down to find the aforementioned teen tangled within the blankets on the floor, she heaves a sigh. Orange light like that of a dying fire glows within the thin quilt, but there’s no heat. Moving slowly, because she hasn’t been sensed yet by the normally vigilant boy, Cass takes one edge of the blanket, pulling it away to reveal a flushed, teary face and a senseless fluff of dark curls. 

His eyes are still clenched shut, but he stiffens when she brushes against him, flaring to feverish temps and pulling away to sit more fully against the side of the bed. Her heart constricts in response, because this— this is the most unexpected part of taking in her nephew. 

They had foreseen the nightmares, the moodiness, the grief, the shaky grasp of control he held over his still developing abilities. 

They hadn’t foreseen the flinching, the fear of raised voices, the rejection of physical contact. Her brother hadn’t been a kind man or a good man when she knew him, and apparently he hadn’t changed that for his child. The bruises the doctors found hadn’t been caused by the fire, and they hadn’t been the result of rough treatment by the rescue team, but remnants of the loveless man laying in the morgue. 

Retracting her hands, Cass sits across from him and lets him wake fully. Red rimmed eyes blink open and meet her soft gaze fleetingly, before falling to examine the faded bedspread covering his lap. 

The orange glow fades; slow, almost tentative.

“S-sorry…” he croaks, a word she’s heard more in the last 3 weeks than she has in her entire life, she’s sure. He apologizes for everything— a knee jerk reaction the moment he seems to think he’s upset her. “I just fell but I’m fine, you can go back to bed.” That had been his explanation for the bruises, too. With that, he tries to stand, attempting to unwind the bedspread with minimal success and nearly tumbling to the ground a second time.

“Oh, baby…” She can’t help but murmur, climbing to her feet so she can help him free his tangled limbs, laying the blanket back on the bed. 

Standing face to face in the smallish room, with none of the distance they usually maintain during the day, she looks over the boy she’s taken in— all gangly limbs and awkward posture. Thirteen years old and he’s taller than her already, and yet again she is struck by the fact that she has missed her nephew’s entire childhood. A month ago she hadn’t even been aware of his existence. 

“You know the doctor said nightmares were normal, and we have those pills for the insomnia. You don’t have to hide these things from me.” But he’s already shaking his head, panic blooming in his eyes. “No please, I don’t want the pills, I can’t control it when I'm taking them.” 

And there was the elephant in the room. Not her nephew’s abilities, but his belief that his abilities had killed his parents. He refused to even acknowledge them point blank, and she’d only seen him really use his powers once; at the hospital when he’d been informed of his parents’ deaths. The flames had burned intensely but hadn’t struck out once; instead swirling together to form a cocoon around him. No one had been able to get through them and they’d had to resort to calling in a hydra working in the cafeteria to douse the flames so they could sedate him. 

Now, Keiren avoids heat like the plague; windows flung open despite the still chilly spring temps, electric fan going full speed. All he had salvaged from his old house was armfuls of eclectic sweaters, and yet he lived in the plain tank tops and t-shirts the temporary foster family provided him. He doesn’t even seem to like being in the kitchen when the stove is on. 

He cautiously climbs back into bed when she gestures for him to do so, going along without complaint when she drapes the blanket back over him— he could do it himself of course, and he’ll likely kick it off as soon as she leaves, but he’s just so heartbreaking with his shaking hands and nervous glances, and if he’s not going to sleep Cass at least wants him comfortable.

“Are you sure? We have a long day tomorrow, if you don’t get at least a little sleep…” She hesitates to give in— she’s a mother now, shouldn’t she put her foot down here? He truly does need the sleep— meeting the others is going to be rough enough for him without the added stress of a sleepless night. Her own parents would never have entertained giving her a choice to take medication or not, but her parents hadn’t been in a situation like this. 

“I’ll sleep, I promise; you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t ruin tomorrow for you.” He says it so earnestly, and paired with such big wet eyes that any thought of standing her ground vanishes. He’s had enough of people poking and prodding at him to do as they bid and she wouldn’t become one of them. 

She can’t let that last comment go though, and her hand makes an aborted motion to run through his hair before she reconsiders and settles it instead on her hip. 

“You could never ruin anything, baby.” she exhales, nodding. “You promise you’ll sleep? No books, no music?” More than once she had noticed him curled up with a flashlight  and a novel, headphones firmly in place and blasting whatever the kids were listening to these days deep into the night. Keiren shakes his head again, and the exhaustion in his eyes makes her believe that he will at least try. 

“Okay then. Sleep tight.” she offers as he’s rolling over to face the wall; a dismissal. She studies his tense form a moment longer, rubbing absently at her chilled arms before leaving. 

It’s the best a night like this has gone, Cass muses as she climbs back into bed. He’s the most talkative at night, when the need for sleep has lowered his walls some, but he’s still nearly nonverbal. The conversation tonight is the most he’s said in one sitting since being discharged from the hospital. She lies still, waiting for a sign that the teenager is being assuaged by nightmares once again. 

The night stays still and silent. 

Hoping it is a sign of better things to come, she turns out the light and succumbs to sleep.

They arrive at the house first; the movers’ trucks pull away just as they crunch over the gravel driveway. 

Keiren silently refuses her offer to help take his few belongings out of the car and hefts the battered book bag over his shoulder before dragging the garbage bag that contains his clothes out of the passenger side door to land by his feet. Cass grabs her own bag of last minute essentials and heads for the front door left partially ajar, hissing when her elbow catches on the knob. She sets her bag on the white kitchen counter before taking in her surroundings.

  The house is… bright. Late morning sunlight pours through windows accented with cheery yellow curtains, illuminating the tiny dust particles in the air— no doubt kicked up by the movers unloading. Outside the window a flock of sprites flitter around, chasing a squirrel. Towers of meticulously labeled boxes fill each room, with newly assembled furniture standing out like islands in the sea. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating. 

Rubbing her hands on her jeans, Cass walks back to the front door, where Keiren stands. He looks painfully out of place; trash bag slumped by his feet, oversized t-shirt pulled off one shoulder from the weight of his bookbag, gaze focused on the yellowed smoke detector above the door. She makes a note to have them all checked and replace any faulty ones. 

She’s about to show him to his room when another car crunches over the gravel; Peter. 

Keiren’s reaction is expected, given the little she knows of him— he freezes, panicked, eyes finding hers before he looks away, and then he just… vanishes. His shoulders pull inward, he steps away and turns so his back is to the wall, and drops his gaze to the ground. His hands clutch tightly at the strap of his bag, and the temperature of the room raises a bit. 

She’s torn between telling him to go upstairs in order to give him a reprieve and just getting the initial first meeting out of the way, when heavy footsteps take the choice from her and the door flies open. 

A large hand grappling for the handle stops it from making contact with the wall, and an equally large man passes through.

“Shit, sorry! What kind of hinges did they put on this thing?” She can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“You’re late.” Cass scolds, hands on hips. 

“Ah, come on babe! Not that late, and I hardly think the kid cares that much about punctuality. What teenager does?” he mutters good naturedly as he toes off his boots and drops them by the door. She clears her throat, gaining his attention and nodding towards Keiren. 

“Oh. OH! Fuck, sorry kid, I didn’t even see you there. Kieren, right?” He steps forward to shake his hand, apparently deciding not to heed any of the warnings she had given him beforehand. To his credit, he doesn’t just grab the kid’s hand like he usually would, instead leaves it extended for the teenager to either take or reject. 

She’s prepared to intervene before any feelings can be hurt (he’s a sensitive sort of man, no matter the trucker hat and stature) but to her pleased surprise, a smaller hand slowly reaches out and takes his, shaking it once before making a hasty retreat to twist and worry the hem of his shirt. 

Keiren doesn’t speak, not that she had expected him to, but he does nod, eyes flicking up to meet Peter’s for a split second before edging carefully away and to the doorway, making his escape. Peter turns towards her with a confused yet proud expression, pointing up the stairs.

“Did you see that? I think he likes me!” And this is why, despite his gruff personality and rough appearance, he was the one she wanted Keiren to meet first. “Kid was shaking like a leaf though, hope I didn’t startle ‘im too bad.” 

“That’s the warmest greeting anyone’s gotten out of him yet,” She admits, reaching up to tug the brim of his ‘entirely ironic’ Madonna ballcap affectionately. “Come on, let’s go see if we can get the coffee machine unpacked. I’m not touching these boxes without caffeine.” 

They do finally find the coffee machine, but the mugs are nowhere to be found. They sit on the back porch, sipping out of a ceramic measuring cup and a short vase, respectively. Keiren doesn’t make another appearance but she can hear him in his room, his music —something guitar heavy and angry— filtering through the screen of his open window. He’s avoiding them, Cass knows. One backpack and a few clothes simply did not take an hour to unpack. 

But the clock is creeping towards noon, and they haven’t eaten. He’s slight enough as it is— teetering just on the edge of malnutrition, according to the doctor, and he can’t afford to be missing meals. Finishing her last swig of black coffee (and making a note to add creamer to the shopping list), Cass stands and nudges the screen door open enough to slip through, pausing to give Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, snorting when he can’t be bothered to pull his nose from his book.

Cooking meals Keiren would eat was another one of those unexpected challenges. 

She’d cooked a huge meal to celebrate the adoption going through— roast chicken, green beans, baked potatoes, rolls. Admittedly, a meal more suited to her partners, but a good meal nonetheless. The teen had balked at the sight of the food laden table though, sitting stiffly the entire time and fiddling with a roll, nervously picking it to shreds.  She’d heard him later that night in the kitchen, digging through the cupboard like a little mouse and scarfing down handfuls of cornflakes. 

He held such an aversion towards casserole that he’d not even come down to eat, the one time she’d tried. He didn’t like chicken or beef. She’d ended up creating a mental list of the teenager’s ‘safe foods’: soup but not stew, plain turkey sandwiches with mustard, not mayo and never miracle whip, any and every kind of dry cereal… and little else. Even typical teen fare held no appeal. Pizza had gotten a few disinterested nibbles, and fast food had gotten a deluge of rejections and apologies before she’d even pulled into the drive-thru. 

The pantry was still empty, but luckily she found the nonperishable food box, and dug out a couple cans of chili and a bag of corn chips for herself and Peter, and a can of vegetable soup for Keiren. She quickly gets the two meals heating up on the stove, fully immersed in the task of lunch. 

So fully immersed that she doesn’t notice a second person in the kitchen until she turns to grab bowls and sees Keiren standing by the sink, filling a glass with water. He’s changed his clothes, succumbing to the chilly temperatures and donning a faded sweater with an uncharacteristic image of a smiling sun plastered across the front. She notes his bare feet curled a little against the cold hardwood, and adds socks to that ever growing list. 

“Lunch is going to be ready in a couple minutes, sweetheart. I hope soup is okay? It’s veggie.” A short nod, and a flash of relief that confirms her instinct that chili would be a no-go with him. He turns, presumably to go back upstairs, but seems to hesitate before turning back around. 

“Need help?” he asks so quickly that it takes a second for it to register. She nods belatedly, eyes wide and trying to stifle a smile, lest her excitement scare him off.

“Yeah. Yeah! Here, you can set the table. Bowls are above the sink, silverware is… to the right —no, the left— of the fridge. And can you also grab a soda from the fridge for Peter?” She almost asks him to grab a beer on instinct, but he’ll have to make do with pop until Keiren is settled. 

He sets his water on the counter and goes about setting the table while she turns off the stove and gives the counter a cursory wipedown, tossing the empty cans as she does. It’s ridiculously mundane; they don’t even talk, and it's awkward maneuvering the new kitchen while also avoiding getting in each other’s way— and yet it’s the happiest she’d felt in months. 

Between the funeral arrangements, the doctors’ visits, the nightmares, the social services appointments, the moving… It’d been impossible to find a second to breathe, and happiness has taken a backseat to surviving. 

She hadn’t even set foot in the cafe since they’d closed; her partners had taken care of all of that down to hiring the staff and preparing for opening day. Hopefully by then Keiren would be settled enough to want to go with them. He hadn’t mentioned missing any friends, and he didn’t look particularly bothered to have spent so much of these months either alone or with adults, but a little social interaction would be good for him. Their neighbors had a daughter who looked around his age— her partners said to leave it alone, but she thought they would get along well. A housewarming party, just a casual backyard barbeque kind of thing, maybe… 

A soft throat clear brings her out of her musing, and she takes in Keiren’s work. He’s sat her and Peter together at one end of the picnic style table and placed himself a fair distance away, just close enough to not look blatantly avoidant. 

“You did great, Keiren,” She decides to test this new bravery of his. “Can you go and let Peter know that it’s time to eat? I just have to dish this all up,” she adds, turning a little to indicate the food. 

He nods slowly but not hesitantly, from what she can tell, and slips away, silently as he came. 

She doesn’t try to eavesdrop, because that would be silly. She just stands by the already open window, diligently drying a tiny wet spot on the counter. If she leans herself out the window a little to really take in the scenery and happens to also give herself a passable view of the porch, that’s no one’s business but her own. 

Keiren doesn’t get the jump on Peter like he had Cass; the creaky screen door prevents it. Peter looks up from his book, turning in his rocker to see the teenager, who seems to stiffen a little bit, but again, doesn’t flee like she’s seen him do with other men. 

Keiren talks with his hands, just like his father. 

She can't make out their words from this distance, but even so, she can tell they’re not just talking about lunch. Peter holds up his book, apparently in answer to a question Keiren must have asked. The teen smiles. Cass nearly tumbles out the window in shock, barely righting herself and finishing filling their bowls just as the two walk in, joining her at the table. Lunch is a silent affair but for the clanking of spoons and the fizz of Peter’s soda can. 

Keiren eats the entire bowl of vegetable soup.

Outside the sprites flutter and a distant dog barks.

Maybe now, they can ease out of survival mode. 

[reputationfairy]

ommmmg can u write something with nicolas being a new dad x reader wife 🙏🙏🙏 maybe them visiting his family during a short trip and him being sooooooo daddyyyy 😭😭 after seeing him in those GH pic with this baby …. 🥵😮‍💨 i just need a dad imagines with him since there isn’t any

❝Juno❞

─⋆♡ summary: You’re married to Nicholas Chavez and you bring your newborn baby to meet his grandparents.

─⋆♡ warnings: pregnancy, postpartum depression, fluff, allusions to sex but no smut, Daddy!Nicholas Chavez, Y/N used a few times, 1st person POV. as always i’m always learning so correct me if i missed something!!

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask & shoutout to that person because this was super sweet to write. there’s no public info on his parents and i felt weird looking for it so here’s some Chavez grandparents content. since this may be your introduction to me, i do write in first person, just inserting Y/N. 2nd and 3rd person are absolutely insufferable to me and make me wanna die. with that being said, i’m glad there’s no shortage of those fics on this website. my masterlist is the pinned post on my profile and i hope you all enjoy this imagine! ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

The journey to Nicholas’ grandparents’ house is filled with quiet anticipation. We haven’t visited in a while, not since Colette was born. I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of introducing Colette to her great-grandparents, Nick SR and Betty. Nicholas always speaks of them with such affection, often recounting tales from his childhood spent at their cozy home. They were instrumental in raising him, and their influence is deeply ingrained in who he’s become. Now, I’m eager to see how they’ll respond to our little family, especially to me as a new mother.

The sun is high in the sky as we pull into the gravel driveway, which crunches under the tires. The house is a charming, white colonial-style home with flower boxes beneath the windows, bursting with vibrant blooms. It looks like something out of a postcard—quaint and welcoming. Nicholas squeezes my hand as he turns off the car.

“You ready for this?” he asks, his brown eyes twinkling with excitement.

I smile, though my heart races. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I respond unwilling to let his hand go for the last time.

I eventually gain enough strength to go a second without touching him. We both step out of the car, and I unbuckle Colette from her car seat, carefully lifting her into my arms. She’s dressed in a soft, pastel onesie with tiny flowers embroidered on the front. Her big espresso colored eyes, so much like Nicholas’, blink up at me as she squirms a little in my hold. I kiss her soft forehead, breathing in that sweet baby scent that always seems to calm my nerves.

Before we even reach the front door, it flies open, and Betty appears on the porch. Her face lights up in a radiant smile as she hurries down the steps toward us. She’s a small woman, but she moves with surprising speed and agility, her silver hair tied back in a loose bun.

“There she is! Oh, it’s about time!” Betty exclaims, ignoring Nicholas entirely as she comes straight for me and Colette. Her arms are wide open, and she pulls me into a hug, careful not to crush the baby between us. “You, my darling, look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. And this precious girl…” Her voice trails off as she gazes at Colette with shining eyes. “Oh, she’s just perfect.”

I laugh softly, returning her hug. “I’ve missed you, Mrs. Betty and thank you.”

Betty steps back, her hands still on my arms, her attention fully on Colette. “No, thank you! You brought another little angel into our family,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve made me the happiest great-grandmother.”

Nicholas, standing off to the side, grins as he watches the scene unfold. “Hey, Grandma,” he chimes in, clearly amused. “Good to see you too.”

Betty waves a hand in his direction without even glancing his way. “Yes, yes, Nicholas. We’ll get to you in a minute.” Her eyes shimmer as she reaches out to gently stroke Colette’s chubby cheek. “She’s absolutely precious,” she coos. “She looks just like Nicholas did when he was a baby.”

Just then, Nicholas’ grandfather steps out onto the porch, his tall frame casting a shadow as he approaches us. His blue eyes light up when he sees me holding Colette. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite girl,” he says with a warm grin, pulling me into a quick hug before peering down at Colette. “And look at this—another beauty in the family. You’ve done well,” he adds, giving Nicholas a nod of approval before clapping him on the shoulder.

“Well she is 50% of me so…” Nicholas’s twinge of jealousy for his favorite girls peeks out.

“Oh, hush, Nicholas,” Betty replies, waving a hand at him dismissively before turning to me again. “Come on, dear, let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted after the drive. And you must let me hold this precious girl as soon as you’re settled.”

Inside the house, the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, mingling with the scent of herbs and flowers. The living room is cozy and welcoming, filled with family photos and knick-knacks that speak of years of love and memories. There are pictures of Nick as a little boy, his brother, and even one of us on our wedding day.

Betty leads us to the couch, offering to take Colette for a little while so I can rest. “She’s such a calm baby,” Betty remarks as she cradles Colette in her arms. “I remember Nicholas being a little firecracker at this age—always kicking and fussing. But you, my dear, are an angel, aren’t you?” she coos, her voice full of love as Colette blinks up at her.

Nick Sr. settles into an armchair nearby, watching with a contented smile. “Betty’s right,” he says, his voice warm. “Nick was a handful. Always running around and getting into trouble. I don’t know how we managed to keep up with him.”

Nicholas chuckles, settling beside me on the couch and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve heard those stories a few times.”

“I bet you have,” Betty says, her eyes twinkling. “But look at you now—such a wonderful father and husband. We’re so proud of you.”

My heart swells at their words, and I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. It’s clear how much they love Nicholas and how deeply they cherish their family. Their affection extends to me as well, making me feel welcomed in a way that eases the nervousness I had felt earlier.

Betty carefully passes Colette back to me, and I can’t help but notice how her eyes linger on us—on the way I hold my daughter, the way Colette nuzzles into me. After a moment, she glances at Nick Sr., sharing a look that seems to speak volumes.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Betty says suddenly, rising from her seat with a bright smile. “We have something to show you.”

She disappears into another room, returning moments later with a large, leather-bound photo album. She hands it to Nicholas with a wide grin. “These are pictures of you when you were about Colette’s age. I thought it’d be fun to compare.”

Nicholas takes the album and begins flipping through the pages, his eyes lighting up as he sees the photos. “Oh wow,” he says, pointing to a picture of himself as a baby, bundled in a blanket. “Look at that, she really does look like me.”

I lean over to see the photo, and sure enough, the resemblance is striking. Colette has inherited her father’s dark hair and expressive eyes, and there’s something about the way she smiles that’s undeniably Nicholas Chavez.

Betty beams. “She’s got that same spark in her eyes that you had. And those cheeks! I could pinch them all day.”

I can’t help but smile as Nicholas flips through more photos—Nicholas as a toddler, covered in mud from head to toe; Nicholas on his first day of school, looking serious and determined; Nicholas holding a toy sword, pretending to be a knight. It’s clear that his grandparents were there for all of it, capturing every moment with care.

“Look at this one,” Nicholas says, laughing as he holds up a picture of himself as a toddler, sitting in a high chair with spaghetti sauce smeared all over his face.

Betty chuckles. “You loved spaghetti. Still do, if I remember correctly.”

As we continue to flip through the album, Betty excuses herself and motions for me to follow her into the kitchen. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what she wants to talk about, but her kind smile reassures me.

Once we’re alone, she turns to me, her expression soft and full of understanding. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing a wonderful job, Y/N,” she says, her voice gentle. “Being a new mom is hard, and it can feel overwhelming sometimes. But from what I’ve seen, you’re handling it beautifully.”

I feel a lump form in my throat at her words, the unexpected kindness bringing a surge of emotion. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “It’s been… challenging at times. I have moments where I wonder if I’m doing it right.”

Betty reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “Those moments of doubt are normal. Every mother feels them. But you have such a natural way with Colette. She feels safe and loved with you—that’s the most important thing.”

I nod, blinking back tears. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like I should be able to do more. I get so tired, and Nick’s been amazing, but…” I trail off, stopping myself from revealing my biggest insecurities.

Betty’s eyes soften even more. “It’s okay to ask for help, dear. You don’t have to do it all on your own. If you ever need anything—advice, a break, someone to talk to—you can always come to me. I’m here for you, and so is Nicholas. We’re all family now,” she offers.

Her words wrap around me like a comforting embrace, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of relief. “Thank you,” I whisper, grateful beyond words.

Betty smiles and gives my hand another gentle squeeze. “You’re doing wonderfully. Just remember to take care of yourself too, okay?”

I nod, my heart swelling with appreciation for this woman who has welcomed me into her family with open arms. As we walk back into the living room, I feel lighter, the weight of my doubts lifting just a little.

Nicholas looks up as we enter, his eyes softening as they meet mine. “Everything okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Everything’s perfect.”

As the afternoon fades into evening, Betty leans forward with a warm smile, her hands clasped in her lap. “It’s been so wonderful having you all here today,” she says, her eyes soft as she looks between Nicholas, me, and Colette. “Why don’t you stay the night? It’s been far too long since we’ve had a full house, and we’d love the chance to spend more time with you.”

Nicholas turns to me, his voice gentle as he asks, “What do you think? We don’t have anywhere to rush off to, and it would give me a break from driving back tonight.”

I hesitate for a moment, weighing the offer. I think about Colette’s bedtime routine, the packed bags in the car, and my own exhaustion. But as I glance around at the warmth of the house, Nick’s grandparents’ eager faces, and the calmness that seems to settle over everything, I feel myself relax. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a change of scenery, and the idea of spending more time here—surrounded by family—sounds like exactly what I need.

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, smiling at Betty. “Thank you. We’d love to stay.”

Betty’s face lights up, and Nick Sr. nods with a wide grin. “Perfect,” he says. “We’ve got the guest room ready, and I can set up the bassinet in the guest room next to it. It’ll be like old times, having a little one in the house again.”

Betty stands, already making her way toward the kitchen. “I’ll put some tea on for later. You two make yourselves at home.”

Nicholas squeezes my hand, a smile spreading across his face. “See? It’s going to be a nice, quiet night—just us, Colette, and the best grandparents ever.”

The evening unfolds comfortably from there. Betty and Nick Sr. share stories about Nick’s childhood over cups of tea, their voices light with laughter and nostalgia. As the night deepens, we finally make our way to the guest room. It’s cozy and inviting, with a soft bedspread, and warm lighting.

Colette falls asleep easily after nursing, making for an easy bedtime routine. Nicholas and I kiss her on the forehead goodnight once we’ve got her situated in the bassinet. We separate briefly to prep for bed and when I’m finished, I crack open the door to the en-suite bathroom.

Nicholas looks up from a script, setting it to the side of the bedside table. My feet patter over to him and he pulls back the duvet for me to climb in. “I’m so tired,” I note as I slide between the sheets.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his body. “I know, baby. Maybe my grandparents will watch her in the morning so we can sleep in,” he theorizes lowly, but I can still feel the bass of his voice rumbling from his chest into my back.

I sigh, letting my eyes flutter closed. It’s been an emotional day, and I’m ready for sleep. “It’s okay if they can’t. I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he breathes out with his lips kissing my ear one last time.

My body lets me drift into sleep, hearing nothing but Nicholas’ breathing and the faint sound of crickets outside. But that peace is eventually interrupted by the familiar sound of Colette’s soft cry filling the quiet room.

I blink awake, momentarily disoriented, unsure of where I am. The dimly lit room feels unfamiliar, and for a brief, groggy moment, I can’t remember how we ended up here. But then the memories come rushing back—the visit to Nick’s grandparents, Betty’s kind words, the warmth of the evening.

With a heavy sigh, I sit up in bed, my body aching with fatigue. I haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep, and Colette’s cries, though soft, feel like they’re pulling me out of the little bit of rest I’ve managed. The sheets feel cold, and for the first time tonight, I realize Nick’s arms aren’t wrapped around me as they usually are.

The bed dips beneath me, and I hear the soft thud of feet padding across the floor. “Shit,” Nicholas mutters under his breath as he comes into view. I lift my head, watching him groggily fumble with the baby monitor to turn down the volume.

His chocolate tinted eyes meet mine in the dimly lit room, his face softened with a sleepy smile. “I got it, baby. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, his voice thick and gravelly.

I don’t resist as my head falls back onto the pillow. Nicholas tucks the duvet around my shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring, and leans down to kiss my forehead before slipping out of the room.

As my eyes flutter shut once again, I can’t help but feel immense gratitude for him—for understanding, for seeing me. Nicholas has always been an amazing partner, but since Colette was born, something has deepened. Maybe it's the way he’s embraced fatherhood, those tender daddy traits emerging in him day by day.

I don’t know how long I drift in and out of sleep before the bed dips once more. This time, I turn over to face Nicholas, only to find him kneeling on top of the duvet, cradling Colette in his arms. He gently rocks her, and his brown eyes, full of apology, meet mine. “I'm sorry, babe,” he says softly. “She’s hungry, and I checked the fridge and my Grandma must’ve given her the rest. We’re out of pumped milk,” he gives his valid reason for disturbing me.

With a tired sigh, I push myself up, scooting back against the headboard. “It’s okay,” I reply, motioning for Nicholas to hand Colette to me. “It’s not your fault I don’t pump fast enough for her.”

Nicholas shifts closer, still kneeling, his eyes warm with reassurance. “It’s not your fault either, baby girl,” he says tenderly. “You’re doing everything right. She’s just got my appetite, that’s all.”

Nick’s words bring a smile to my face as I take our little girl in my arms, feeling the love and support that radiates from him. Colette’s small body relaxes the moment she’s nestled in my arms, and I adjust my position to help her latch on. Instinctively, her tiny mouth finds its way, and I feel that familiar pull as she begins to nurse. The room is quiet now, save for the soft sounds of her feeding and the gentle rustle of the duvet as Nicholas shifts beside me, sitting back in his spot where he just laid.

The weight of exhaustion still presses heavily on my body, but there's something calming about this moment—something intimate and grounding. Colette’s little hand rests against my skin, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as she nurses. Despite the tiredness, I feel a sense of peace wash over me.

Nicholas watches us, his expression soft and filled with admiration. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his touch tender. "You’re amazing, you know that?" he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath in the dark.

I smile faintly, my heart swelling at his words, but before I can respond, he continues, his eyes never leaving mine. "I don’t tell you enough how much I love you... both of you." His gaze flickers to Colette, his eyes warm and full of adoration. "Watching you with her... seeing how strong you are, how much you give every day. You’ve made me the luckiest man in the world, Y/N."

His words sink into me, wrapping around my heart like a warm blanket. The weight of my earlier guilt begins to lift, replaced by the quiet assurance that I’m not alone in this. We’re a team, navigating the highs and lows together.

"I love you too," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion as I glance down at Colette, her soft breaths steady against me. "And I’m so grateful for you. I couldn’t do this without you."

Nicholas leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise of his words. "You’re the best mom, you know that? And she’s lucky to have you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin.

I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his presence and feeling the steady rhythm of Colette’s nursing. In this moment, the exhaustion, the doubts, and the guilt of my postpartum depression fade into the background, leaving only the love we share—the love that brought Colette into our lives.

Nicholas settles back into bed beside me, his hand resting gently on my leg, a silent reminder that we’re in this together. And as Colette’s soft suckling continues, I let myself fully relax.

Once Colette finishes nursing, her tiny body grows limp in my arms, signaling she’s drifted back to sleep. I carefully adjust her, cradling her small frame against my chest. Nicholas is still sitting beside me, his hand never leaving my leg, his eyes filled with the kind of tenderness that makes my heart swell.

“Do you want me to take her?” Nicholas asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I nod, and with practiced gentleness, he scoops her up and places her between us on the bed. Colette barely stirs, her little hands curling up by her face as she nestles into the space between us. The sight of her lying there, so peaceful and content, brings a soft smile to my lips. My body involuntarily slides down and I stoke her cheek with the back of my finger.

Nick lays down with his head propped up in one arm, the other sliding around me. But as I gaze at Colette sleeping peacefully between us, a small wave of anxiety creeps in. What if we roll over onto her during the night? My breath hitches slightly, and I turn my head toward him.

Nicholas immediately senses my concern and shifts closer, his hand coming to rest gently on my cheek. "Hey, don't worry," he says softly, his voice reassuring. "I’ve got her. We’ve got her. I won’t let anything happen." His thumb brushes against my skin as he speaks, his gaze steady and full of calm. "I’ve read up on this, remember? She’s safe with us. We’re light sleepers, and we’re both hyper-aware she’s here. I’ll make sure we’re careful."

I nod, though the worry still lingers. Nicholas leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You won’t roll over on her. I won’t either. Trust me, baby. And if you’re still worried, I can take her back to the bassinet,” he assures me.

I glance down at Colette, her tiny chest rising and falling, completely at ease between us. There’s something comforting about her being so close, something I don’t want to give up. "No," I say softly, shaking my head. "I want her here with us. I just... I get nervous sometimes,” I admit to him, the concerns laced with my postpartum depression symptoms.

"I know," he murmurs. "But you’re not alone in this. We’re doing it together, okay? She’s safe. We’ll keep her safe,” he promises.

His warmth and the calm assurance in his voice help to ease the anxiety a little, and I let out a slow breath. I snuggle closer to him, nestling my head in the crook of his neck. "Thank you," I whisper.

Nicholas kisses the top of my head, his hand stroking Colette’s tiny arm before returning it to my waist. “I used to dream about this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You, me, and a baby… just lying here like this, all together.” His eyes shine in the dim light, filled with a quiet wonder. “I’d imagine what it would feel like, how perfect it would be. But this... this is even better than I imagined.”

His words sink deep into my chest, filling me with warmth. I glance down at Colette, her chest rising and falling steadily between us, and I feel a wave of contentment wash over me. “I’m glad too. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed,” I whisper back.

Nick’s thumb rubs gentle circles over the exposed skin on my side, and for a while, we lie there in comfortable silence, both of us watching Colette sleep. I feel the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his body, and I can’t help but think about our future—about the life we’re building together.

After a while, I glance up at Nick, my voice soft but curious. “Do you ever think about… having another one? Another baby, I mean.”

His reaction is immediate. His brown eyes light up, the glint of excitement undeniable. He grins, that boyish, playful smile I fell in love with, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. “Oh, absolutely. I thought one of you was cute, but two though? Didn’t think I could handle it. But now that I’ve experienced it, I want three of you as soon as possible,” he rambles.

I laugh softly, both amused and surprised by his enthusiasm. “Three of us, huh?” I ask to clarify he’s not drunk on love.

“Yeah, babe,” he says, his hand moving to stroke Colette’s tiny hand before trailing over my arm. “We could start trying as soon as possible. I mean, why wait? We make great babies together,” he jokes and I stifle a laugh to not wake up our sleeping child.

His grin turns mischievous as he leans in closer, his voice dropping a little lower. “We could even try out some freaky positions this time… you know, spice things up.”

I roll my eyes playfully, shaking my head at him, though my heart flutters at his words. “That’s all you, God bless your dad’s genetics,” I tease, eyeing him with a smirk.

Nicholas chuckles, clearly enjoying my response, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes too—a real desire to keep building this life together. “I’m serious though,” he murmurs, his hand moving to rest on my waist. “I want more of this. More of us. I want a whole bunch of mini versions of you running around, driving me crazy in the best way.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and I feel a flush of warmth spread through me. I lean closer, letting my fingers trace over his arm. “You’re really ready for another one, huh?”

Nick’s gaze locks with mine, intense but full of love. “Yeah, Y/N. I don’t just want another one. I want a whole football team of kids with you. As soon as you’re ready,” he says firmly.

I bite my lip, considering his words, feeling the quiet excitement bubbling up inside me. “I might just let you lock me down tonight,” I tease, my voice soft but playful.

His eyes darken slightly, that same spark of mischief flickering in them. “Oh, baby, don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against my lips.

I pull back slightly, laughing against his mouth. “Let’s not rush it,” I whisper, even though my hormones are raging at the thought. “But... I do love the idea of growing our little family,” I add to soften the blow of sex denial.

Nicholas grins again, his arm pulling me closer as Colette sleeps peacefully between us. “Then let’s make it happen,” he says softly. “One more baby… and then another after that, we can talk again. I just know I want it all with you. Every first word and every first day of school, my love.”

I smile, resting my head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of his words and the future he envisions wash over me. “One step at a time,” I murmur, though the idea is already taking root in my mind, the thought of more little ones filling our home with love.

As we lay there, cuddling around Colette, the future feels wide open—and incredibly full of promise. The room is quiet, the soft hum of the night surrounding us, and as we lay there, I feel the steady rise and fall of Nick’s chest beneath my palms.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. I smile softly, my body already succumbing to sleep as I whisper back,

“Goodnight, Nicholas. I love you,” I murmur, never getting tired of reminding him.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice full of warmth and certainty. “Both of my girls.”

With that, the last thing I feel is the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of Colette’s breathing between us, and the overwhelming sense of love that wraps around the three of us, pulling us into the soft cocoon of sleep.

The next time I stir awake, it’s to the feeling of the sun shining on my face. Nicholas’ familiar presence is next to me, his body relaxed as he leans back against the headboard. I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the slight rustle of pages as he quietly reads. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the comfort of having him close.

But something is wrong.

I don’t feel Colette.

The tiny body that was nestled between us is gone, and in an instant, a wave of cold panic floods my chest. My breath catches, and my heart starts to pound, my worst fear bubbling to the surface. Oh God, did I roll over her? Did we…?

My eyes snap open, and I sit up abruptly, frantically scanning the bed. My hands reach out, patting the mattress in blind desperation as my breath quickens. Where is she? My mind spirals into worst-case scenarios, and my pulse races faster with each second I can’t find her.

Nicholas looks up from his script, his brow furrowing as he notices my panic. “Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is calm, but I can hear the concern lacing his words.

“Colette,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper as the fear clutches at me. “She’s not here, Nick. I—where is she?”

Nicholas immediately places his script aside and sits up, reaching for me. His hands find my shoulders, grounding me. “Babe, she’s fine,” he says gently, his voice steady, though I can see the alarm in his eyes as he realizes why I’m panicking. “Grandma has her. She came in earlier to take her so you could rest. She’s with her now, probably showing her off to her knitting group. Everything’s okay.”

I stare at Nicholas, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through me, but the words slowly sink in. Colette isn’t in danger. She’s not here because Betty took her.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest as the fear begins to ebb away. “I thought… I woke up and she wasn’t there. I thought we—” My voice falters, not even wanting to finish the thought.

Nicholas pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you to tell you, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” he apologizes profusely.

I nod against Nick’s chest, the tension finally loosening from my body as I cling to him. “I just… that’s what I’ve been afraid of, rolling over her in our sleep,” I admit.

“I know,” Nicholas murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But I would never let that happen. I swear that to you,” he adds.

I take a deep breath, letting the warmth of his embrace steady me. My pulse slows down, and the overwhelming panic that had gripped me starts to dissipate, leaving me feeling drained. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N,” Nicholas says, his hand gently stroking my back. “You’re a mom. It’s normal to worry, but I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.”

I pull back slightly, meeting his eyes that are full of understanding. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice still shaky but filled with gratitude.

Nicholas smiles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Get some more rest, okay? Grandma’s got Colette covered.”

I nod, feeling the last remnants of panic finally fade. I glance at his script beside him and give a tired smile. “You’re memorizing lines this early?” I pry.

He chuckles. “Just passing the time until you woke up. But you come first,” he vows.

I sink back into the pillows, the warmth of Nicholas beside me a comforting presence now that the fear has passed. As I close my eyes, the world feels right again. Colette is safe, Nicholas is here, and I let myself relax fully for the first time since waking up. The panic has faded into the background, leaving only the steady hum of reassurance from my husband beside me.

[reputationfairy]

yes we want the nicholas dad imagines tonight please

let’s do this in 3, 2, 1…

[reputationfairy]

cranked this out so quick. it’s so easy to write no smut requests. yeah, so yall want this tonight or….

[reputationfairy]

someone give me a nicholas chavez request right tf now.

[reputationfairy]

requests are opening because of this video. thank you to vinnie hacker we all say in unison.

Smoking 🍃 with vinnie smut cause he’s so pookie bear (make it rough too please 💀💀)

❝FMB❞ - vinnie hacker x reader

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask. FMB means f⋆ck me back. hopefully it's rough enough. this is my first smut post so i didn't want to make it too too rough, just fyi. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ summary: you and vinnie have a complex relationship. it all comes to a head when you become bold enough to confront him post-blunt.

─⋆♡ warnings: overstimulation, softdom!vinnie, smut, fluff towards the end, tiny bit of angst, 18+ black!writer, language, alcohol, drugs, D!NC, physical descriptors (brief), choking, spitting, slight exhibitionism if you squint, claiming, rough smut, squirting, anal play, unprotected sex (i do not condone irl, wrap before you tap).

⋆word count: 3.9k ⋆ masterlist ⋆

The loud bass of music floats in the background as I tap through Snapchat stories on my phone. The couch next to me dips and when I turn, I see Vinnie has joined me.

He doesn’t speak to me before pulling out a blunt and sparking it. As is, me and Vinnie’s relationship was complicated. We started off as friends, then smoke buddies. But the more we smoked together, the more we felt for each other. Or at least, I fell for him.

We had kissed and made out, but we’ve never had sex. After a few dates, I was becoming restless. The frustration of his mixed signals got the best of me. Now in the darkness of the crowded room, I’ve become bold enough to confront him.

I watch him as he inhales and exhales the smoke like a chimney. He seemingly notices my intense stare and stops. “Did you need something?” he asks with an attitude.

You can practically feel steam whistling out of your ears from how fuming your brain is right now. “Yeah actually. Give that to me,” I snap, pointing at his blunt.

He shrugs, ashing the blunt on the coffee table. “Okay,” he concedes, passing me the joint.

Letting the smoke dance in my lungs, I choke it out slowly. Now that the weed is hitting, I decide now is the time. “Vinnie, are you still interested in me?” I ask him abruptly.

He chuckles and takes the blunt from me. “Oh, baby. Of course I fucking am. Why would you even ask me that?” he shoots back with an eyebrow raised.

Frowning, I pick at my cuticles out of nervousness. “Because we go on dates, we kiss, but we’ve never had sex. I just don’t know what you want any more,” I confess, standing from the couch in a huff. 

Of course, I want to take things further. But I’m not sure if he wants me anymore when he barely touches me.

He stops me from moving any further, tugging my hand. I grudgingly turn around, looking down at him. “Because, doll. We haven’t had the sex talk yet,” he discloses, rubbing his free hand up and down my thigh.

I roll my eyes and scoff, snatching the blunt out of his hands to take a hit. He places his hands on my hips, watching me intensely. “What do you mean by ‘sex talk’? I’m not 5,” I ask after blowing out a toke.

He stands until he’s staggering high towers over me. “I mean…” he pushes lightly, backing me into the wall so I’m trapped between his body and the drywall. “I want to know what you like, what you don’t like, and what you’ll beg for before I feel you cumming on my cock,” he whispers in my ear, licking a stripe up my neck afterward. 

My head tips back in a moan, which makes him as hard as a rock. “Fuck, baby. Do you see what you do to me? I want nothing more than to make you feel good, in the best way that I can, for the rest of my life.” he presses his body into mine, slowly kissing up my neck.

One of the partiers comes up behind Vinnie and taps him on the shoulder. He ignores them, waving them off with the rest of the blunt. His hand moves to the inside of my thigh and he rubs me so close that I know he can feel the inside of my legs shake. “Should I take care of you right here?” he bites my neck, and I whimper, pulling his hair.

Vinnie pulls back from me, piercing a hole into my eyes. “Please?” I beg, gnawing on my lip.

He uses the other hand and wraps it around my throat, effectively restricting my breathing. He tilts my head to the side. “Do you think you deserve it?” he whispers against my lips with his eyebrow raised. 

Struggling, I lightly nod my head in his firm grip. “Yes, Vinnie,” I squeak out, and he gives me one last squeeze on the throat before grabbing my wrist and yanking me through the crowd.

Bodies brush past me as Vinnie drags me up the steps to his room. “Wait, where are we going?” I ask, confused. He just asked if I needed to be taken care of right there and then... I did say yes.

“You think I’m gonna let everyone watch me fuck you?” he scoffs.

Once we got the sex talk out of the way, Vinnie makes quick work to get me undressed. I moan into the darkness of the room as Vinnie leaves love bites down my neck, only breaking the contact to lift my tank top over my head. He pauses his movements to take in the black lacy bralette I'm wearing. “Fuck, baby. You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, then smashes his lips back onto mine. 

He slams me against his closed bedroom door before slowly dropping down onto his knees. Watching him sink to the ground has an involuntary giggle leaving my lips. “Vinnie, I didn’t think you were going to actually-” he cuts me off, spinning me around so my ass is facing him.

Suddenly, an echoing smack verberates off the walls and my ass cheeks are on fire. Yelping, I sink my teeth into my bottom lips, trying to muffle the noise I’m making.

He slowly inches his hands up my legs until my skirt is fully pushed up to my stomach. His fingers meet my panties, and he runs my fingers over them, seemingly savoring every last moment. “Did you wear these for me, sunshine?” He hooks one finger under one side, pulling it back and making the elastic snap around my hips.

I reach out to support myself on anything to keep my knees from buckling. “No,” I joke, and he bends my knees a bit.

He rubs calming circles into the back of my thighs with his thumbs. “Don’t need you collapsing on my baby,” he informs me.

Taking both sides in his hands, he rips the fabric in half and shreds it off my body like paper. “Shame. I would’ve let you keep them.” 

Gasping, I look down and watch them fall to the ground. He palms my ass, spreading my cheeks further apart. “Bend over just a little bit more, baby,” he instruct, kissing my ass on both sides. 

Slowly shifting in his grasp, I whine as I bend over. I’m desperate for him, all over me. Filling every hole over and over again until I’m screaming for help.

He hovers his mouth over my pussy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he praises me, running his pointer finger up and down my folds to collect my wetness.

“Let me tell you something, sunshine,” he grumbles, rubbing his fingers in circles on my puffy, swollen nub. “There's absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Do you understand?” he looks up at me, awaiting my response.

Unable to focus, I just nod my head.

“You have to use your words, baby.” he instantly retracts his fingers from my clit bringing them into his mouth. With a pop, he pulls them out, moaning at the taste of my arousal.

I groan, throwing my head back in frustration. “Yes, I know. Just please take care of me, Vinnie,” I practically beg for the second time tonight.

He returns his fingers to my pussy, slowly rubbing around my entrance. “If you asked me to shoot myself, I would,” he growls, slowly sinking his fingers into me. Curling them downwards on every thrust, his fingers search for that spongy spot. He pulls out and thrusts into me again, and my breath quickens. “If you asked me to slit my wrists, I would.” Quickening his pace, my moans echo through the large bedroom. “You gotta stay quiet, baby. I wanna be the only one to hear those pretty moans.” 

He uses his free hand, bringing it up to my clit, rubbing fast circles on my sensitive bud. His fingers are thrusting into me at such an intense rate that I feel the world collapsing beneath me. My pussy contracts around his fingers and he groans deeply, sending a shiver up my spine. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sunshine,” he commands, hitting my sweet spot. 

I mewl, obeying his commands, and begin rocking back into him. My orgasm starts approaching rapidly, his fingers drive into me at an unrelenting pace. When my walls flutter, he instantly slows his pace. “Not yet, baby. You can’t cum until you’re quiet.”  

Crying again, I bring my hand up to muffle the sound successfully. He applies more pressure on the quick circles he’s drawing on my clit. I arch my back again until I’m moving with his fingers just as he requested. I moan loudly, the coil in my stomach about to snap. 

He blows a quick shot of air onto my exposed clit, the chill making the coil snap. My vision turns white as I quietly moan out, "Fuck, Vinn.”

“That’s it, sunshine. Cum for me, let go,” he murmurs underneath me, and I can feel the lust dripping off his tongue as my orgasm rocks through me. The pace of his fingers doesn’t slow as he works me through my orgasm, and I hear my nails scratch against the drywall. My legs quake and my back arches slightly, my mouth opening in a silent moan. 

He slows his thrusting and pulls out of me, rising to his feet. He turns me around to face him, his eyes taking in the fucked out expression on my face. “You wanna know how good you taste, baby?” Grabbing my chin, he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.

I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath and lean back into the wall. “Yes,” I whisper, and as soon as the words leave my lips, his fingers sink into my mouth. Deciding to tease him, I swirl my tongue around his digits, imagining my tongue on his cock. His fingers push back further into my throat until I gag a little, then he pulls them out. Fucking hope he’s impressed that I can take them that far without coughing.

Without another thought, I smash my lips against his, savoring the taste of my orgasm on his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good. I could eat you forever,” he growls, moving my body back onto the bed.

He crawls on top of me and his bulge is pressed into me once again. “Vinnie, please. I need you.” I whimper into his mouth as my shaky fingers move to slowly unbutton his shirt. 

But he grabs my wrists, stopping me. “I got it, sunshine,” he laughs, then makes quick work to remove his shirt. 

I shamelessly watch as he slowly strips out of his pants and his boxers. Even though I’ve seen him naked in front of me before, he’s never fully been hard. His dick is beautiful. His swollen head is already dripping with precum, making him look good enough to deep throat. 

Vinnie slowly climbs back onto the bed and my eyes widen, realizing what’s about to happen. My breathing quickens in anticipation as he comes down to kiss me hard and deep. 

I moan into him, but my hands move to his chest to push him back as I look down, suddenly scared. “It’s too big, I don’t think it’ll fit,” I insist, crawling away from him.

He grabs my ankles, pulling me back down. “We’re gonna make it fit, baby,” he retorts, his eyes dark. 

The tip of his dick moves back and forth in between my folds, collecting wetness. I whimper, squeezing his shoulders. 

“Hey, sunshine. Look at me.” He grabs my chin until I make eye contact with him. “We can stop if you want to stop. I won't go any further,” he reassures, resting his forehead on mine.

I immediately shake my head, inhaling a sharp breath. “No, I want this–I want you. Just be careful, please.” I pull him into me for a heated kiss and tug his hair, making him groan and deepen the kiss. 

Finally, he pulls back and lines himself up near my entrance, spitting and letting the dribble collect on his base. “This is gonna hurt, so just relax for me, baby.” My legs are pushed open a little wider. 

I nod, trying to calm myself, and he laces his fingers in mine before he moves. The tip of his shaft pushes in, and I gasp at the stretch. “Shit, Vinnie,” I cry out, squeezing his hands until my knuckles turn white. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, the burn from his girth sends fire into my core. 

Immediately, he stops moving, looking into my eyes. “Do you want me to stop? I’ll stop,” he groans out. 

I bite my lip, shaking my head no. 

He kisses the corner of my eyes and whispers, “Okay, just relax for me, sunshine. I’ll try to make this quick.” He continues to sink slowly into me, bottoming out, and I wince again. To allow me to adjust to his length, he pauses his movements. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he breathes, bending down to kiss my neck. And then, he slowly starts rocking into me and the burn is replaced with a familiar warmth. 

“Oh, god. Vinnie,” I moan, releasing his hands to claw at his back for support. 

He’s hitting the perfect spot already, and he just got inside me. He continues to slowly push in and out of me, allowing me to savor the feeling of him inside me. I moan, biting on his shoulder. 

“More.” My legs are already shaking. “Give me more,” I demand, kissing up to his ear.

Pulling back, he looks at me. “Are you sure?” His hand strokes my curls.

I pull him down into a kiss, allowing my tongue to explore his mouth once more. “Yes, please. Use me, fuck me,” I beg, squirming underneath him.

Vinnie fists the sheets below my head and adjusts his position. I brace myself. “The safe word is ‘moon’, Sunshine. Use it if you need it.” He kisses my neck once more and begins driving into me at a steady, even rate. The tip of his length kisses my g-spot with each stroke. “Fuccckkkk,” he growls into my ear, and I feel myself squeezing him when the words hit my eardrums. 

“Vinnie,” I moan. 

The only sound outside of our pants and moans is the sound of his skin slapping against mine as he fucks me. He wraps his tattooed hand around my throat, leaning in for a kiss. And as if I wasn't already in heaven, he brings his fingers down to rub quick circles on my clit. 

“I’m gonna cum, doll. But I need to feel you squeezing me before I do,” he commands, and I cry as I arch into him. 

He pounds into me steadily, rocking my body into the bed. Each stroke pushes me closer and closer over the edge until I feel myself contracting around him. 

“Cum with me, sunshine,” he whispers against my lips, and it sends me over the edge. 

Arching my back and screaming, I claw at his back and bite his shoulder as my orgasm hits me like a train. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he lifts my hips slightly. 

“Where do you want me to cum, love?” His dick kisses my cervix, and I know I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But I can’t bring myself to give a shit right now. 

He twitches inside me, and I lick a stripe up his neck. “Cum in me, Vinnie,” I whimper, and he growls into my neck. 

His seed spills inside me, his strokes becoming uneven. I moan at the feeling, and squeeze around him, milking out every drop of his cum as he paints my walls. It fills me up and I’ve never felt better after sex. 

He stills inside me, kissing me breathlessly, and takes a few moments to catch his breath. Before he pulls out, I wrap my arms around him, causing him to bury further inside me. “Stay,” I plead, tears threatening to spill over in my eyes.

He softly strokes my hair, wrapping his arm around me and slowly flipping us over so I’m on top. “Okay, sunshine. I got you. Fuck, that was the fastest I’ve ever cum before in my life,” 

Like I requested, he doesn’t pull out. Just pulls me closer into his body until I’m melting into the beautiful tattoos on his chest. His fingers begin tracing light patterns across my back. 

I sniffle, looking up at him with a small smile on my face, and he looks at me. “You okay, sunshine?” he asks, and I shift on his length a little bit. 

Sitting up to put my hands on his chest, I feel his dick twitching and growing inside me. “Yeah. Let's go again,” I giggle, bending down to kiss him. It surprises me how he’s already ready for round two, but I don’t complain. 

He groans into my mouth, wrapping his decorated arms around my waist. Slowly, I lift myself until I feel his tip threatening to slip out. I slide back down onto him, filling myself completely and moaning at the change of position. 

His hands tighten around my waist, helping me swirl my hips around. “I want you to know you’re mine, sunshine,” he groans, reaching up to play with my nipples as I moan at the feeling of him stretching me from this angle. 

I pick up my pace, bouncing on his dick until he’s hitting my perfect spot over and over again. My legs shake, and I feel my third orgasm approaching rapidly. My hand moves to his neck, squeezing it hard. I feel so fucking powerful, making myself cum with his length. 

Vinnie looks up at me with amazement in his eyes and slides his thumb in between us to apply pressure on my clit. I throw my head back and moan, still choking him. “God. You look so pretty when you moan.” 

The pace of his thumb quickens, and I topple over the edge, crashing into my third orgasm with a loud cry. I release my hand on his neck, falling forward. Vinnie removes his hand from my clit to catch me and keep from coming down on his body. He allows me to rest on his chest as he starts to fuck up into me, elongating my orgasm. 

“Vinnie,” I choke out, and my voice bounces off his walls. 

He picks up his pace, driving into me from below. “That’s it, doll. Scream my name. Let the world know who fucking owns you.” 

He pounds my body into his, and I grip his shoulders when I feel a tingling sensation on my clit. Wetness suddenly shoots out from between my legs, running down my thighs and covering his stomach. My whole body quakes, but he doesn’t slow down. 

“Fuck, sunshine. Look at the mess you made, cumming all over me.” 

My brain is on a different planet as he slows down, allowing me to glance down at the soaked sheets. He slowly pulls me off him and I wince, falling backward onto the bed. Then, Vinnie moves me so I’m laying on my side, out of the wet spot, before slowly pushing back into me, spooning me, and caressing my hair. “No one will ever fuck you ever again, for the rest of your life but me. Do you understand?” 

Slamming into me at an unrelenting pace, he bites my neck. His hand wraps around my throat, applying a bit of pressure. Every thrust sends me closer to the edge, and the only thing I register is him kissing the back of my neck. I’m so fucked, I can’t speak. I can’t think. 

“Yes,” I babble out, arching my back into him. 

All I feel is pure bliss. The room is spinning, and I feel another orgasm rapidly approaching. He nibbles a love bite into my neck, hitting my G-spot over and over again. My thighs are lifted a little higher until I see white. “Cum for me again, Sunshine. You feel so good when you squeeze me,” he mumbles into my neck.

I shake my head, and gripping his forearm that chokes me. “I can’t,” I cry, looking at the view from his room— everything is spinning. 

Vinnie increases his pace, slamming into me. “You can, and you will,” he snarls in my ear. 

I feel the tears spilling over in my eyes as he applies more pressure on my throat. The overstimulation of his dick drilling into me repeatedly sends me toppling over another edge, and I wail his name, feeling my soul leave my body. Everything feels fuzzy as his thrusts become sloppy before he lets out an animalistic grunt. I feel his dick twitch, then, shooting hot ropes into me. The heat of it makes me feel like I’m going to pass out, and I moan at the sensation. He continues to slowly thrust into me, riding out both of our orgasms. 

After we’re both spent, he buries himself deep inside me, stroking my hair and peppering kisses on my shoulder as I come down from my high. “You did so well for me, Sunshine. Fucking fantastic,” he praises.

He slowly caresses my hips as my body shakes against his. I wince as he slowly pulls out and scoots down to the bottom of the bed. Spreading my legs wide open, he watches our cum leak out of me. My swollen pussy contracts around nothing, pushing his seed out, and I hear him groan. 

He brings his fingers up to my entrance and I wince. “Shhh, Sunshine, I’m just making sure we don’t waste a drop,” he coos, stuffing his fingers into me and massaging my g-spot. 

An inevitable moan leaves my lips I arch my back to get closer to him. “You want to cum again?” He asks before leaning over to flick his tongue over her my. Crying out at the overstimulation, I shake my head. 

“Too bad, baby.” he quickly thrusts into me with his fingers, moaning at the taste of our orgasms mixing. His tongue flicks over my swollen, puffy clit. I haven’t used our safe word, and I know he’s going to keep pushing me until I say it.

Vinnie removes his tongue from my clit and he uses his other hand to collect our orgasms on his finger. The pace of his fingers slows and he begins rubbing a circle around my tight hole. He slowly pushes his finger into my ass, fucking me with both hands. 

I’m unable to control my movements as I thrash underneath him. His finders drive in and out, reaching the most delicious spot. 

“Give me one last one, Sunshine. I promise I’ll let you stop after,” he orders, and I move my hands to his hair to tug on it.

He pushes his finger further into my ass, curling it a bit more, and I snap. Neglecting his noise warning, my screams and my moans erupt through the room. He moans as he works both of my holes through what I assume is my last orgasm. 

As finally comes down, I whimper, “Moon,” and he stops and slowly pulls his fingers out, satisfied with my overstimulation. 

He crawls up my body, grabbing my face so I'm forced to look at him. “You're everything to me–perfect and mine,” he mumbles into my mouth and I wipe away the tears in my eyes. 

My brain buzzes with post-sex high. “Only for you,” I whisper into the night.

I did so well, and I am his.

[reputationfairy]

oh… yall still eating this shit up, huh? every time i read it, i swear it’s not that good.

Smoking 🍃 with vinnie smut cause he’s so pookie bear (make it rough too please 💀💀)

❝FMB❞ - vinnie hacker x reader

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask. FMB means f⋆ck me back. hopefully it's rough enough. this is my first smut post so i didn't want to make it too too rough, just fyi. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ summary: you and vinnie have a complex relationship. it all comes to a head when you become bold enough to confront him post-blunt.

─⋆♡ warnings: overstimulation, softdom!vinnie, smut, fluff towards the end, tiny bit of angst, 18+ black!writer, language, alcohol, drugs, D!NC, physical descriptors (brief), choking, spitting, slight exhibitionism if you squint, claiming, rough smut, squirting, anal play, unprotected sex (i do not condone irl, wrap before you tap).

⋆word count: 3.9k ⋆ masterlist ⋆

The loud bass of music floats in the background as I tap through Snapchat stories on my phone. The couch next to me dips and when I turn, I see Vinnie has joined me.

He doesn’t speak to me before pulling out a blunt and sparking it. As is, me and Vinnie’s relationship was complicated. We started off as friends, then smoke buddies. But the more we smoked together, the more we felt for each other. Or at least, I fell for him.

We had kissed and made out, but we’ve never had sex. After a few dates, I was becoming restless. The frustration of his mixed signals got the best of me. Now in the darkness of the crowded room, I’ve become bold enough to confront him.

I watch him as he inhales and exhales the smoke like a chimney. He seemingly notices my intense stare and stops. “Did you need something?” he asks with an attitude.

You can practically feel steam whistling out of your ears from how fuming your brain is right now. “Yeah actually. Give that to me,” I snap, pointing at his blunt.

He shrugs, ashing the blunt on the coffee table. “Okay,” he concedes, passing me the joint.

Letting the smoke dance in my lungs, I choke it out slowly. Now that the weed is hitting, I decide now is the time. “Vinnie, are you still interested in me?” I ask him abruptly.

He chuckles and takes the blunt from me. “Oh, baby. Of course I fucking am. Why would you even ask me that?” he shoots back with an eyebrow raised.

Frowning, I pick at my cuticles out of nervousness. “Because we go on dates, we kiss, but we’ve never had sex. I just don’t know what you want any more,” I confess, standing from the couch in a huff. 

Of course, I want to take things further. But I’m not sure if he wants me anymore when he barely touches me.

He stops me from moving any further, tugging my hand. I grudgingly turn around, looking down at him. “Because, doll. We haven’t had the sex talk yet,” he discloses, rubbing his free hand up and down my thigh.

I roll my eyes and scoff, snatching the blunt out of his hands to take a hit. He places his hands on my hips, watching me intensely. “What do you mean by ‘sex talk’? I’m not 5,” I ask after blowing out a toke.

He stands until he’s staggering high towers over me. “I mean…” he pushes lightly, backing me into the wall so I’m trapped between his body and the drywall. “I want to know what you like, what you don’t like, and what you’ll beg for before I feel you cumming on my cock,” he whispers in my ear, licking a stripe up my neck afterward. 

My head tips back in a moan, which makes him as hard as a rock. “Fuck, baby. Do you see what you do to me? I want nothing more than to make you feel good, in the best way that I can, for the rest of my life.” he presses his body into mine, slowly kissing up my neck.

One of the partiers comes up behind Vinnie and taps him on the shoulder. He ignores them, waving them off with the rest of the blunt. His hand moves to the inside of my thigh and he rubs me so close that I know he can feel the inside of my legs shake. “Should I take care of you right here?” he bites my neck, and I whimper, pulling his hair.

Vinnie pulls back from me, piercing a hole into my eyes. “Please?” I beg, gnawing on my lip.

He uses the other hand and wraps it around my throat, effectively restricting my breathing. He tilts my head to the side. “Do you think you deserve it?” he whispers against my lips with his eyebrow raised. 

Struggling, I lightly nod my head in his firm grip. “Yes, Vinnie,” I squeak out, and he gives me one last squeeze on the throat before grabbing my wrist and yanking me through the crowd.

Bodies brush past me as Vinnie drags me up the steps to his room. “Wait, where are we going?” I ask, confused. He just asked if I needed to be taken care of right there and then... I did say yes.

“You think I’m gonna let everyone watch me fuck you?” he scoffs.

Once we got the sex talk out of the way, Vinnie makes quick work to get me undressed. I moan into the darkness of the room as Vinnie leaves love bites down my neck, only breaking the contact to lift my tank top over my head. He pauses his movements to take in the black lacy bralette I'm wearing. “Fuck, baby. You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, then smashes his lips back onto mine. 

He slams me against his closed bedroom door before slowly dropping down onto his knees. Watching him sink to the ground has an involuntary giggle leaving my lips. “Vinnie, I didn’t think you were going to actually-” he cuts me off, spinning me around so my ass is facing him.

Suddenly, an echoing smack verberates off the walls and my ass cheeks are on fire. Yelping, I sink my teeth into my bottom lips, trying to muffle the noise I’m making.

He slowly inches his hands up my legs until my skirt is fully pushed up to my stomach. His fingers meet my panties, and he runs my fingers over them, seemingly savoring every last moment. “Did you wear these for me, sunshine?” He hooks one finger under one side, pulling it back and making the elastic snap around my hips.

I reach out to support myself on anything to keep my knees from buckling. “No,” I joke, and he bends my knees a bit.

He rubs calming circles into the back of my thighs with his thumbs. “Don’t need you collapsing on my baby,” he informs me.

Taking both sides in his hands, he rips the fabric in half and shreds it off my body like paper. “Shame. I would’ve let you keep them.” 

Gasping, I look down and watch them fall to the ground. He palms my ass, spreading my cheeks further apart. “Bend over just a little bit more, baby,” he instruct, kissing my ass on both sides. 

Slowly shifting in his grasp, I whine as I bend over. I’m desperate for him, all over me. Filling every hole over and over again until I’m screaming for help.

He hovers his mouth over my pussy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he praises me, running his pointer finger up and down my folds to collect my wetness.

“Let me tell you something, sunshine,” he grumbles, rubbing his fingers in circles on my puffy, swollen nub. “There's absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Do you understand?” he looks up at me, awaiting my response.

Unable to focus, I just nod my head.

“You have to use your words, baby.” he instantly retracts his fingers from my clit bringing them into his mouth. With a pop, he pulls them out, moaning at the taste of my arousal.

I groan, throwing my head back in frustration. “Yes, I know. Just please take care of me, Vinnie,” I practically beg for the second time tonight.

He returns his fingers to my pussy, slowly rubbing around my entrance. “If you asked me to shoot myself, I would,” he growls, slowly sinking his fingers into me. Curling them downwards on every thrust, his fingers search for that spongy spot. He pulls out and thrusts into me again, and my breath quickens. “If you asked me to slit my wrists, I would.” Quickening his pace, my moans echo through the large bedroom. “You gotta stay quiet, baby. I wanna be the only one to hear those pretty moans.” 

He uses his free hand, bringing it up to my clit, rubbing fast circles on my sensitive bud. His fingers are thrusting into me at such an intense rate that I feel the world collapsing beneath me. My pussy contracts around his fingers and he groans deeply, sending a shiver up my spine. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sunshine,” he commands, hitting my sweet spot. 

I mewl, obeying his commands, and begin rocking back into him. My orgasm starts approaching rapidly, his fingers drive into me at an unrelenting pace. When my walls flutter, he instantly slows his pace. “Not yet, baby. You can’t cum until you’re quiet.”  

Crying again, I bring my hand up to muffle the sound successfully. He applies more pressure on the quick circles he’s drawing on my clit. I arch my back again until I’m moving with his fingers just as he requested. I moan loudly, the coil in my stomach about to snap. 

He blows a quick shot of air onto my exposed clit, the chill making the coil snap. My vision turns white as I quietly moan out, "Fuck, Vinn.”

“That’s it, sunshine. Cum for me, let go,” he murmurs underneath me, and I can feel the lust dripping off his tongue as my orgasm rocks through me. The pace of his fingers doesn’t slow as he works me through my orgasm, and I hear my nails scratch against the drywall. My legs quake and my back arches slightly, my mouth opening in a silent moan. 

He slows his thrusting and pulls out of me, rising to his feet. He turns me around to face him, his eyes taking in the fucked out expression on my face. “You wanna know how good you taste, baby?” Grabbing my chin, he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.

I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath and lean back into the wall. “Yes,” I whisper, and as soon as the words leave my lips, his fingers sink into my mouth. Deciding to tease him, I swirl my tongue around his digits, imagining my tongue on his cock. His fingers push back further into my throat until I gag a little, then he pulls them out. Fucking hope he’s impressed that I can take them that far without coughing.

Without another thought, I smash my lips against his, savoring the taste of my orgasm on his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good. I could eat you forever,” he growls, moving my body back onto the bed.

He crawls on top of me and his bulge is pressed into me once again. “Vinnie, please. I need you.” I whimper into his mouth as my shaky fingers move to slowly unbutton his shirt. 

But he grabs my wrists, stopping me. “I got it, sunshine,” he laughs, then makes quick work to remove his shirt. 

I shamelessly watch as he slowly strips out of his pants and his boxers. Even though I’ve seen him naked in front of me before, he’s never fully been hard. His dick is beautiful. His swollen head is already dripping with precum, making him look good enough to deep throat. 

Vinnie slowly climbs back onto the bed and my eyes widen, realizing what’s about to happen. My breathing quickens in anticipation as he comes down to kiss me hard and deep. 

I moan into him, but my hands move to his chest to push him back as I look down, suddenly scared. “It’s too big, I don’t think it’ll fit,” I insist, crawling away from him.

He grabs my ankles, pulling me back down. “We’re gonna make it fit, baby,” he retorts, his eyes dark. 

The tip of his dick moves back and forth in between my folds, collecting wetness. I whimper, squeezing his shoulders. 

“Hey, sunshine. Look at me.” He grabs my chin until I make eye contact with him. “We can stop if you want to stop. I won't go any further,” he reassures, resting his forehead on mine.

I immediately shake my head, inhaling a sharp breath. “No, I want this–I want you. Just be careful, please.” I pull him into me for a heated kiss and tug his hair, making him groan and deepen the kiss. 

Finally, he pulls back and lines himself up near my entrance, spitting and letting the dribble collect on his base. “This is gonna hurt, so just relax for me, baby.” My legs are pushed open a little wider. 

I nod, trying to calm myself, and he laces his fingers in mine before he moves. The tip of his shaft pushes in, and I gasp at the stretch. “Shit, Vinnie,” I cry out, squeezing his hands until my knuckles turn white. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, the burn from his girth sends fire into my core. 

Immediately, he stops moving, looking into my eyes. “Do you want me to stop? I’ll stop,” he groans out. 

I bite my lip, shaking my head no. 

He kisses the corner of my eyes and whispers, “Okay, just relax for me, sunshine. I’ll try to make this quick.” He continues to sink slowly into me, bottoming out, and I wince again. To allow me to adjust to his length, he pauses his movements. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he breathes, bending down to kiss my neck. And then, he slowly starts rocking into me and the burn is replaced with a familiar warmth. 

“Oh, god. Vinnie,” I moan, releasing his hands to claw at his back for support. 

He’s hitting the perfect spot already, and he just got inside me. He continues to slowly push in and out of me, allowing me to savor the feeling of him inside me. I moan, biting on his shoulder. 

“More.” My legs are already shaking. “Give me more,” I demand, kissing up to his ear.

Pulling back, he looks at me. “Are you sure?” His hand strokes my curls.

I pull him down into a kiss, allowing my tongue to explore his mouth once more. “Yes, please. Use me, fuck me,” I beg, squirming underneath him.

Vinnie fists the sheets below my head and adjusts his position. I brace myself. “The safe word is ‘moon’, Sunshine. Use it if you need it.” He kisses my neck once more and begins driving into me at a steady, even rate. The tip of his length kisses my g-spot with each stroke. “Fuccckkkk,” he growls into my ear, and I feel myself squeezing him when the words hit my eardrums. 

“Vinnie,” I moan. 

The only sound outside of our pants and moans is the sound of his skin slapping against mine as he fucks me. He wraps his tattooed hand around my throat, leaning in for a kiss. And as if I wasn't already in heaven, he brings his fingers down to rub quick circles on my clit. 

“I’m gonna cum, doll. But I need to feel you squeezing me before I do,” he commands, and I cry as I arch into him. 

He pounds into me steadily, rocking my body into the bed. Each stroke pushes me closer and closer over the edge until I feel myself contracting around him. 

“Cum with me, sunshine,” he whispers against my lips, and it sends me over the edge. 

Arching my back and screaming, I claw at his back and bite his shoulder as my orgasm hits me like a train. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he lifts my hips slightly. 

“Where do you want me to cum, love?” His dick kisses my cervix, and I know I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But I can’t bring myself to give a shit right now. 

He twitches inside me, and I lick a stripe up his neck. “Cum in me, Vinnie,” I whimper, and he growls into my neck. 

His seed spills inside me, his strokes becoming uneven. I moan at the feeling, and squeeze around him, milking out every drop of his cum as he paints my walls. It fills me up and I’ve never felt better after sex. 

He stills inside me, kissing me breathlessly, and takes a few moments to catch his breath. Before he pulls out, I wrap my arms around him, causing him to bury further inside me. “Stay,” I plead, tears threatening to spill over in my eyes.

He softly strokes my hair, wrapping his arm around me and slowly flipping us over so I’m on top. “Okay, sunshine. I got you. Fuck, that was the fastest I’ve ever cum before in my life,” 

Like I requested, he doesn’t pull out. Just pulls me closer into his body until I’m melting into the beautiful tattoos on his chest. His fingers begin tracing light patterns across my back. 

I sniffle, looking up at him with a small smile on my face, and he looks at me. “You okay, sunshine?” he asks, and I shift on his length a little bit. 

Sitting up to put my hands on his chest, I feel his dick twitching and growing inside me. “Yeah. Let's go again,” I giggle, bending down to kiss him. It surprises me how he’s already ready for round two, but I don’t complain. 

He groans into my mouth, wrapping his decorated arms around my waist. Slowly, I lift myself until I feel his tip threatening to slip out. I slide back down onto him, filling myself completely and moaning at the change of position. 

His hands tighten around my waist, helping me swirl my hips around. “I want you to know you’re mine, sunshine,” he groans, reaching up to play with my nipples as I moan at the feeling of him stretching me from this angle. 

I pick up my pace, bouncing on his dick until he’s hitting my perfect spot over and over again. My legs shake, and I feel my third orgasm approaching rapidly. My hand moves to his neck, squeezing it hard. I feel so fucking powerful, making myself cum with his length. 

Vinnie looks up at me with amazement in his eyes and slides his thumb in between us to apply pressure on my clit. I throw my head back and moan, still choking him. “God. You look so pretty when you moan.” 

The pace of his thumb quickens, and I topple over the edge, crashing into my third orgasm with a loud cry. I release my hand on his neck, falling forward. Vinnie removes his hand from my clit to catch me and keep from coming down on his body. He allows me to rest on his chest as he starts to fuck up into me, elongating my orgasm. 

“Vinnie,” I choke out, and my voice bounces off his walls. 

He picks up his pace, driving into me from below. “That’s it, doll. Scream my name. Let the world know who fucking owns you.” 

He pounds my body into his, and I grip his shoulders when I feel a tingling sensation on my clit. Wetness suddenly shoots out from between my legs, running down my thighs and covering his stomach. My whole body quakes, but he doesn’t slow down. 

“Fuck, sunshine. Look at the mess you made, cumming all over me.” 

My brain is on a different planet as he slows down, allowing me to glance down at the soaked sheets. He slowly pulls me off him and I wince, falling backward onto the bed. Then, Vinnie moves me so I’m laying on my side, out of the wet spot, before slowly pushing back into me, spooning me, and caressing my hair. “No one will ever fuck you ever again, for the rest of your life but me. Do you understand?” 

Slamming into me at an unrelenting pace, he bites my neck. His hand wraps around my throat, applying a bit of pressure. Every thrust sends me closer to the edge, and the only thing I register is him kissing the back of my neck. I’m so fucked, I can’t speak. I can’t think. 

“Yes,” I babble out, arching my back into him. 

All I feel is pure bliss. The room is spinning, and I feel another orgasm rapidly approaching. He nibbles a love bite into my neck, hitting my G-spot over and over again. My thighs are lifted a little higher until I see white. “Cum for me again, Sunshine. You feel so good when you squeeze me,” he mumbles into my neck.

I shake my head, and gripping his forearm that chokes me. “I can’t,” I cry, looking at the view from his room— everything is spinning. 

Vinnie increases his pace, slamming into me. “You can, and you will,” he snarls in my ear. 

I feel the tears spilling over in my eyes as he applies more pressure on my throat. The overstimulation of his dick drilling into me repeatedly sends me toppling over another edge, and I wail his name, feeling my soul leave my body. Everything feels fuzzy as his thrusts become sloppy before he lets out an animalistic grunt. I feel his dick twitch, then, shooting hot ropes into me. The heat of it makes me feel like I’m going to pass out, and I moan at the sensation. He continues to slowly thrust into me, riding out both of our orgasms. 

After we’re both spent, he buries himself deep inside me, stroking my hair and peppering kisses on my shoulder as I come down from my high. “You did so well for me, Sunshine. Fucking fantastic,” he praises.

He slowly caresses my hips as my body shakes against his. I wince as he slowly pulls out and scoots down to the bottom of the bed. Spreading my legs wide open, he watches our cum leak out of me. My swollen pussy contracts around nothing, pushing his seed out, and I hear him groan. 

He brings his fingers up to my entrance and I wince. “Shhh, Sunshine, I’m just making sure we don’t waste a drop,” he coos, stuffing his fingers into me and massaging my g-spot. 

An inevitable moan leaves my lips I arch my back to get closer to him. “You want to cum again?” He asks before leaning over to flick his tongue over her my. Crying out at the overstimulation, I shake my head. 

“Too bad, baby.” he quickly thrusts into me with his fingers, moaning at the taste of our orgasms mixing. His tongue flicks over my swollen, puffy clit. I haven’t used our safe word, and I know he’s going to keep pushing me until I say it.

Vinnie removes his tongue from my clit and he uses his other hand to collect our orgasms on his finger. The pace of his fingers slows and he begins rubbing a circle around my tight hole. He slowly pushes his finger into my ass, fucking me with both hands. 

I’m unable to control my movements as I thrash underneath him. His finders drive in and out, reaching the most delicious spot. 

“Give me one last one, Sunshine. I promise I’ll let you stop after,” he orders, and I move my hands to his hair to tug on it.

He pushes his finger further into my ass, curling it a bit more, and I snap. Neglecting his noise warning, my screams and my moans erupt through the room. He moans as he works both of my holes through what I assume is my last orgasm. 

As finally comes down, I whimper, “Moon,” and he stops and slowly pulls his fingers out, satisfied with my overstimulation. 

He crawls up my body, grabbing my face so I'm forced to look at him. “You're everything to me–perfect and mine,” he mumbles into my mouth and I wipe away the tears in my eyes. 

My brain buzzes with post-sex high. “Only for you,” I whisper into the night.

I did so well, and I am his.

[reputationfairy]

love that little blonde bitch

never listening to another album again actually. 😊💙

[reputationfairy]

YALL! Our favorite Tumblr runner DID IT! He won gold!

If yall need a reminder Noah Lyles is this wonderful nerd

Noah Lyles won GOLD!

Noah Lyles is the Fastest Man!!!

[reputationfairy]

heartbreak is one thing my ego's another. i beg you don't embarrass me motherfucker

[reputationfairy]

"yk how duke's new vid is about like texas or something and he's got the whole cowboy outfit on, what about one with the hat rule that whoever where's their hat has to ride the cowboy"

yoooo this is gold. yes i will write that for you cause now I'm thinking about it too. and i want to make it the most breathtaking piece of work that I've ever written.

[reputationfairy]

Hi so I’ve read your duke Dennis imagines so many times and I love them and I wanted to make a request for an imagine but I’m not sure if you take any requests so please let me know if you do.

i'm not taking requests but my inbox is open cause i can't figure out how to turn it off 🤣 they're just sitting in my inbox unanswered. you can still submit one but my brain is currently so full with ideas for my ongoing fics that i haven't worked on anything yet. but who knows, i might see something inspiring hope that answers your question! 😘

[reputationfairy]

WerE YOU SENT BY SOMEONE--