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cookybananas · 4 months ago

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Do I Know You? Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker x Reader {Part. II}

author's note: here is part two aka the final chapter to my alternate universe/timeline!au fic. I wasn't expecting to release this chapter so late, but here it is!

summary: Where Darth Vader is sent on a mission and finds himself traveling through another timeline and meets another version of you were you aren't dead. part I: Do I Know You? I

Obi-Wan took his saber off his belt and held it firmly in his grasp now. "Let's try this one more time. You will leave at once and return to where you once came." Obi-Wan stated.

Vader's demeanor shifted. The dark side influencing him to become more angry by the moment. He grew impatient at this, other Obi-Wan, standing in his way between his wife once again. With a hiss of his helmet, Vader's helmet was back on his head again. His vision now giving him the advantage to see in the dark penthouse.

"You will not take her away from me, again." Darth Vader's mechanical voice boomed as he lit his red lightsaber. "You will surrender her over to me alas."

"Oh I don't think so." Obi-Wan lit up his blue lightsaber as he got into his fighting position.

I stirred around in my bed. Something felt off, I could feel it in my stomach. My eyes shot opened at the faint sound of what sounded like lightsaber clashing.

Artoo had awaken from his rest state and beeped quietly at me, telling me that there was something or someone was here.

I stuck my hand under my pillow to pull out my handy blaster. I haven't needed to use it yet, but it was a precaution in situations like this. I got out the bed and cracked the door open ajar.

"Someone's here Artoo." I whispered to him, to which he quietly beeped in response.

I opened the door wider, only to see Obi-Wan's blue lightsaber clashing with a red lightsaber.

"There is no need to resist me." A deep, mechanical voice spoke. "Search your feelings Obi-Wan, only then you will know that I was once your appreintience, Anakin Skywalker."

I raise up my blaster, trying to find the person Obi-Wan was fighting, but it didn't help that it was dark and I couldn't tell who was who and what I would be aiming at specifically.

After moments of locking on the person Obi-Wan was fighting, I took a shot at what looked like his torso. A booming mechanical cry was heard, but that wasn't enough to take him down. In fact, it made him angrier. He used the force and threw Obi-Wan across the room and into the wall.

"Don't move! I'll shoot you again." I spoke up, my breath shaking. My other hand searching to find the light switch on the wall next to me. I turned on the lights only to be met face to face with the tall masked figure that was couple of feet from me. I pointed the blaster at his head, my hands shaking.

His breathing was mechanical. He sounded like a droid, but seemed human at the same time.

"Angel..." The tall figure said. My eyes widen, my blood ran cold as I froze in place. A nickname I haven't been called over year, a name I haven't been called since...Since Anakin's death. I gripped my blaster tighter, only for him to use the force and pull it out of my grasp and fling it across the room. I looked over to where Obi-Wan was on the ground unconscious.

Artoo rolled into the living space with a scream, attacking Vader's leg, only for him to be forced kicked across the room by Vader. This gave you time to run over to your blaster where Vader had flung it, but you couldn't move. That bastard was holding you in place with the force.

"Do not be afraid. I will not harm you." Vader spoke up, pulling you closer to him with the force. You were trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was no use.

"You will not harm me? Then release me this instant!" You exclaimed, still wiggling around the air, as he pulled you closer to him. You felt your feet touch the ground as he released his grasp from you. You were now standing face to face with Vader. "What is it that you want from me?" You brush out your silk nightgown as he stared at you in awe. You were slowly becoming uncomfortable under his gaze, but you wouldn't let yourself fold.

"Hello? Did you not hear me?" You asked again as you crossed your arms, your patience growing thinner.

"Apologies...I just." Vader mustered out, unable to find the words.

"You just what?"

You couldn't tell, but Vader was panicking under his suit. He didn't think this through, or what he would say to you if he faced you. You were very much alive, at least since the last time he saw you. Your e/c gleamed under the living room lights. Your locks of h/c hair were longer now, cascading down to your hips. Your lips were plump and rosy, just taunting Vader to smash his lips against yours.

Without thinking, Vader's hands had found his way up helmet once again. Hoping that this time you would give him a chance, unlike Obi-Wan who was a bit apprehensive and combative toward him. You watched in bewilderment as the person who was after you revealed himself as a humanoid man? But your shock didn't end there. Your eyes scanned all over Vader's face, analyzing it. You didn't know what to expect what this man would look like, but you weren't expecting him to look like this.

Vader's eyes were no longer yellow, but were his original cerulean colored eyes. You took a step closer to him as you cupped his face, your eyes meeting his. You couldn't believe it, you didn't want to believe it. His eyes were just like Anakin's, if not the exact same. Though Vader was now hairless and heavily scarred, he still resembled Anakin. In fact, there were still remnants of Anakin within Vader that he believed he had rid of years ago.

"I-it can't be..." You whispered out. It had been over a year since Anakin's death. There have been many nights where you dreamed of the life that both you and Anakin could have had after the war. How you would have left your position as senator, Anakin leaving the Jedi, just so you both could have a family somewhere in the star system. But every morning as you woke, it was a constant reminder that it was only a dream, and that every waking hour you were awake, it was a nightmare for you.

"Angel.." Anakin said softly, cupping your cheek. Your eyes were glossy now, tears slowly forming in the corner of your eyes.

You had dreams and hopes, hopes that one day both you and Anakin would find each other again. You couldn't care if Anakin had been reincarnated into a Wookie or some hideous creature, but as long as there were remnants of Anakin, you would be happy and content. Perhaps it had been the lament you had over the loss of Anakin or the loneliness you've endured the past year, you did everything and anything in your power to be with him once again.

Now, here he was, standing in front of you. Though he didn't look like the same Anakin you once knew and loved, but you had gut feeling that he was like Anakin at least.

"Ani...Is it really you?" You were desperate, desperately hoping that this was the Maker giving you another chance to have your happy ending with Anakin.

Anakin nodded in response as you wiped away a tear that fell from his eyes. You let out a sob has you threw yourself into his strong arms, to which he engulfed your small frame. He held onto you tightly, afraid that you would slip away from him.

You pulled away from Anakin, your eyes meeting his once again. Smiling up at him, you stood on your tippy toes, inching closer to his face as you closed the gap between yourselves. Your lips were soft against Anakin's slightly chapped lips. The kiss soon turned passionate as Anakin's pressed you harder against him, his hands roaming up and down your body, desperate to touch every single inch of you.

You let out a small moan, however your passionate session came to an end when you heard someone clearing their throat. Both you and Anakin pulled away, turning your heads at Obi-Wan who shifted uncomfortably in his spot, clutching his elbow that had been injured.

"How long was I out for?" Obi-Wan spoke up, trying to shift the awkward mood between the three of you.

"A good 15 minutes I'd say?" You responded, your cheeks now tinted pink as you looked up at Anakin, before looking back at Obi-Wan.

"Well, I'm gonna go get some rest. If you need me, I will be in my chambers." With that, Obi-Wan swiftly made his way out of the living area and into his room. You couldn't help but giggle, as Anakin let out a chuckle. Obi-Wan definitely had been watching the both of you make out for a good minute or so before intervening.

Anakin let out a hiss, forgetting the fact that you had shot him earlier with your blaster. You looked at him with concern.

"Oh darling... Let's get you patched up." You tell Anakin, your hand gently brushing against the wound. To which Anakin sucked in a breath.

"Could you patch me up in your bedroom love?" Anakin spoke up. You rolled your eyes at his comment, before hooking your arm around his and leading him to your quarters.

thank you for reading!!! <3

tags: @mistress-amidala

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bloatedandalone04 · 2 years ago

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Love Language

➪the one where you’re all clay needs to keep himself calm before surgery (and after).

Warnings: sam does not exist here (sorry not sorry f that b), mentions of surgery, surgery topics, hospital themes, anxiety, clay's surgery is successful and his mother is still alive, heart transplants (you saw the movie, you know how it goes), heavy topics, 'what is the healing process of a heart transplant' was definitely googled more than once while writing this.

Word Count: 2.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The sun peered into the room through the thin, white curtains - the same ones Clay has begged you to let him replace more than once now. It heated the room to the perfect temperature, not too cold while also not making you break out into a sweat.

Lying fast asleep beside you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His face was pressed to the pillow, his arms lifted and hidden under said pillow as he often fell asleep on his stomach, the front of his body pressed to the mattress.

You reach over and gently trace your index finger over the various freckles that scattered his back before laying your palm flat against his skin, the faint beat of his heart bringing you a sense of comfort you never knew you needed.

The glow of the sun made his skin look golden, his face relaxed and his hair messy from moving in his sleep.

In other words, he was just perfect.

You lift your body, your elbow digging into the bed as you hold yourself up. Unable to stop your wandering lips, you lean over and press a kiss to his bicep, and another to his shoulder blade.

Though your touch was feather light, it still woke him up as though his body couldn’t help but react whenever you showed him any type of affection. His eyes opened in a squint due to the light that invaded the room, the corner of his lips turning upwards in a boyish grin. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you murmur back, trailing your hand further up his back before tangling it in his light hair.

He gives you a look that has your heart swelling before he lifts his head just to bury his face back in the pillow. You grin at his shyness, a personality trait you would’ve never imagined he had. With billions behind his name, a successful mother, a future set in stone, and a whole city that belonged to him; you expected him to be arrogant, spoiled, ruthless, even.

But no, he was none of those things.

He was kind, had the persona of an angel, something that prompted you to give him the nickname, your angel. He had a smile that could make any okay day an amazing one, the charm to sweep anyone off their feet, and a heart as big and sweet as anything in the entire world. Even though his heart was fragile and could betray him at any given moment, he still didn’t let that change his view on the world, the beautiful thing it was.

To put it simply; Clay Beresford was the embodiment of everything good in the world, a light so bright that he had no idea just how much he lit up the darkest corners of damn near everyone he’s ever met, a man so perfect you found yourself believing you were stuck in a dream every time you woke up next to him.

Massaging your fingers into his scalp, you fill with a sense of happiness at the content sigh that escapes him, silent in sound but evident in the way his shoulders raised and dropped slowly.

You move closer to him, brushing your nose against his arm. “Why are you hiding from me?” You ask quietly, your hand flattening out his messy hair.

He lifted his head just enough for him to be able to murmur, “I’m not hiding from you, baby,” the corners of his lips turned upwards as he continued, “Just from your awful excuse of a curtain.”

You gasp, taking your hand away from his head to give his shoulder a gentle push. “Hate them all you want,” you shrug, meeting his eyes when he turned his head to look at you. “I’m still not letting you buy me new ones.”

Clay laughed quietly, shifting so he was now on his back. His right hand came up to grab your left one, his eyes fixated on the large diamond that found home on your finger.

With your free hand, you reach over and gently press it against his shoulder, your fingers firmly poking against the few small knots you felt. “What are you thinking about?” You nearly whisper, afraid as though you would ruin the peaceful atmosphere if you were to talk at your usual pitch.

His blue eyes met yours once again. “You,” he simply answered and you felt a heat rush to your face. Keeping your hand locked in his, you lean down and press your lips to his mouth, an innocent kiss that grew heated when his left hand grabbed your hip and pulled your body on top of his.

Your upper body was covered by his white dress shirt he wore to the dinner party last night, the shirt being the first thing you grabbed once you woke up this morning, while your lower half was covered by a thin black lace.

Clay has told you many times now that he loves the way you look in his clothes and it brings out a possessive side he never knew he had. You were just so beautiful, and you looked past his family drama and his heart problem and chose him.

There weren’t words that are strong enough to describe his love for you or how much he adored you. You were one of the few things in his life that felt normal and right, and it was no surprise that he couldn’t hold back on asking you to be his forever just eight months into the relationship.

You started out as his mom’s assistant. Lilith was a sweetheart right at the start, showing you around her massive house with the patience of a new teacher, smiling at you and encouraging any questions you might have had.

You remembered exiting the kitchen and entering the front hall just as Clay returned home, his eyes tired and his form slouched. It was almost comical how quickly he straightened up and how wide his eyes opened. Lilith’s dismissal of his sudden appearance was one you’ll never forget. “Oh, that’s Clay, my son. Don’t worry, you won’t see much of him,”

How wrong she was.

From that day on, Clay did any and everything he could to see you, even for just a split second. He’d prolong quick conversations, give you a long answer instead of a short one to any question you had, and was always there to greet you when you arrived in the mornings.

You were kidding yourself when you made a promise that you wouldn’t fall for him. You fell for Clay hard and fast, and it seemed as though he fell for you just as bad. When you became official, you quit being Lilith’s assistant as you felt weird about it and didn’t want your source of income to be from his mom.

No matter how much money the Beresford name had, you still felt cheap whenever Clay or his mother offered to pay for something. You knew it wouldn’t faze them, and you appreciate their kindness, but you refused each and every time.

“You do realize that you’re entitled to my money once we’re married, right?” He’d ask you every time you refused to let him pay for you.

You always respond with, “Yeah, well, we’ll figure that out when we get there,”

His hands slide up your back when you break away from his mouth and begin placing kisses along his jaw. You move onto his neck and shoulders before moving further down and stopping right above where his heart was beating in his chest.

A small bit of sadness filled you as your mouth hovered over that place, your hands pressing into the sheets on either side of his body. Clay noticed this, but before he could ask you what was wrong, you leaned down and placed a kiss to the skin of his chest, just over where his heart is.

He held back a shiver as you placed another kiss and then another, your eyes closing when you felt his hands reach up to caress the sides of your face. Butterflies are set loose all over his body as you kiss him with a feather light touch, acting as if you’d break him if you were to be even the smallest bit rougher with him.

“Hey,” he quietly said, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that fell from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you rest it against his chest, the faint beating against your cheek making you smile slightly. “I just love you,” it was hardly audible, but he heard you as clear as day. “So much.”

“Baby,” he says quietly, brushing your hair away from your face as he tries to get you to meet his eye. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You wipe away your tears and clear your throat. “It’s nothing,” you answer, looking up at him and caving at the look he gives you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you crawl over his body and move to lay on your side next to him. Your fingers trace over the skin you had just kissed while his rubbed soothing circles onto your shoulder. “I was just thinking about how much I will love your new heart, maybe even more than I love your current one.”

Clay grinned down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s no doubt in my mind that my new heart will love you just as much as the old one does now,” he says quietly before adding, “Thank you for never giving up on me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Clay spent a week in the hospital, his pager going off a few hours after you and him got out of bed after your heart to heart talk.

His surgery was a success, his body taking the new organ with no problems at all and rendering him a new man.

You were by his side throughout the whole process, your own heart beating rapidly during the five hours he was under. The sense of relief you felt when his doctor came to the waiting room to inform you and Lilith that it was a success was indescribable.

He woke up an hour or so after the surgery, and a couple more later you were finally allowed to briefly visit him. You instantly started crying, which caused him to cry as well, still a bit drowsy and high off the medication.

Despite the doctor’s request of not getting too close to him, you couldn’t help but press multiple kisses to his face, working carefully around the ventilator, before settling on holding his hand as gently as you could. He looked so tired and weak and worn out, making your heart break the smallest bit as you thought about the long road to recovery he had ahead of him.

Now, four weeks into his recovery process, he was doing well. He would have multiple pain sessions everyday where his chest would ache beyond anything he could ever describe. During those moments he would tightly hold your hand or wrap his arms around your middle while pressing his body to yours until the pain subsided and the quiet groans faded.

You grew closer than ever. You had taken an LOA from your job at the small café downtown to take care of him, looking after his every need with no hesitation. He was in bed for the most part, only getting up to walk the short distance to the bathroom attached to the bedroom or up and down the hallway outside the room to keep him somewhat active. Even then you were no more than a few feet away from him, a nervous look on your face and a crease in your brow

Secretly, the days you spent with him in bed was your favorite way to pass the time. Like right now, your chin resting gently on his shoulder while your index finger lightly ran up and down the scar on his chest. The bandage and stitches had long since been removed and all that was left was a long line from the start of his chest down to just above his lower abdomen.

Today was a good day as he hadn’t felt a single ounce of pain yet, his arm wrapped around you and his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bicep. His half lidded eyes stared at the ceiling, the only sounds filling the room being your breathing and the low hum of the air conditioning.

Breaking the silence, you keep your voice quiet as you ask, “How are you feeling today?”

Your head lifted slightly with every breath he took, his shoulder rising with every inhale. Just being able to feel him breathe made you fill with a sense of happiness, the stress of the whole thing fading away with every day that passed. “Good,” he answered, his lips turning upwards when he added, “Better than ever.”

You close your eyes at that, exhaling quietly. “Good,” your hand moves from his scar and rests on the skin above his heart, the faint but strong beat making you smile. “You’re still you.” You say quietly and lift yourself up, propping your upper half on your elbow.

Clay furrows his brows as he watches you lean down to press your lips over his heart. He was brought back to the morning of his surgery, just hours before he got the page that a transplant was available, where you did exactly what you were doing now, but on his old and weak heart.

“My angel….New heart, new life,” you continued, kissing his skin once more before meeting his eyes. “Still the same you.”

Clay lifted his hand to stroke your cheekbone with his thumb, the rest of his fingers curling under your jaw. “I’m still me,” he confirmed, matching your small grin with one of his own. “And my heart still loves you just the same.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen edit #clay beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #angst #fluff #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine

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kingdomhate · 1 year ago

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Happiness and Tears (Part Four)

Jack looks from Penny to Puttnam, his expression pleading. "Listen, I'm not going through with this. Clay is my friend!" Penny rolls her eyes and Puttnam looks away. "I'm not doing this.." Penny looks away and then snaps her head back. "Look, you would still be sent to jail either way. It was your idea." Penny argues, her eyes on fire.

Clay's eyes, the only part of his body he can move due to the anesthesia, flicker frantically back and forth. "What the.... how can this happen?! What about Y\N?! We're gonna get married!" Clay screams, but it's all in his head. His jaw is completely paralyzed. Clay could feel the tears pricking in his eyes, the thought of dying, like this... You'd never know. How can people you've known for a good while be so heartless? The feeling of nausea stopping Clay from attempting to fight the paralision.

"Penny, he's not even awake!" Jack practically screams, his eyes desperate but determined. "How could you actually carry this out if he's not awake? He doesn't know!" As Clay listens, he can feel himself moving, his hands coming to his face, ripping off the tape on his eyes, removing the IV's and sitting up. All while Jack, Puttnam and Penny argue.

Clay stands up, his eyes red and puffy as the tears settle and reduce, replaced by pure rage. He looks down at the surgery table, to see himself, eyes open and wide, but body paralyzed on the table, chest open. Clay abandons the sight to circle around a pleading Jack, "How could you have come up with this idea?!" Clay demands, but he knows Jack cannot hear him. With a heavy and remorseful sigh, Clay sulks out of the room, his feet hitting the cold, hospital tile floor with a sense of hopelessness. But the hopelessness is not why he's walking down this hallway for, no, it's you.

Clay makes his way to the waiting sections, and he sees you as well as his mother, you both were sitting next to each other, your bag clutched tightly in your hands, so much so your knuckles were white. His mother was in no better condition; her face was red and puffy, her lipstick slightly smeared, no doubt due to how many times she's wiped her forehead in pure agony. Clay approaches you, his heart filled with nothing but love and helplessness. He slowly places his hand on your cheek, trying his best to manage a soothing caress, but he could see his hand shaking as it made contact with your angelic skin. "I'm sorry." He whispers, bending down in front of you, taking your hand in his. "I'm sorry we couldn't live the life we wanted, the life you deserved." He squeezed your hand, the tear in his eye falling to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Y\N..." Clay looks at you, his eyes as remorseful as he reminisced his visions of everytime he ever saw you. His eyes frantically snapping shut as he leaned back, sitting on the tile in front of you, his knees up to his chest as his hands tangle in his hair. Sobbing, he mutters sorry over and over. His head jerks up, his eyes stopping at his mother as he tries to imagine what his mother would say. What would she say? "Remember, Clayton, you are nothing like your father." No, that's not what he needs.. "Clayton, where do you think you would be if you did not have to suffer some kind of pain?"

Was that it? Clayton stood up, spun around and practically ran back to the operating room. ".....Inject it." Penny's voice commanded. Clayton threw the door open and walked back to see himself on the operating table, again. Jack took the heart, a syringe handed to him by Puttnam and hesitated shortly before injected it. Clay's anger was fueled yet again.

Your POV

You have been waiting for what seemed like forever, before you see Jack approach you, and you jump up, meeting him halfway."Is he alright? Is he safe? Please tell me he's okay, please.." Jack's face was solemn, despite your best attempts at pleading. Lilith did not get up, but she watched closely. "I'm sorry, Y\N. I really am." Your world crashed. Everything became distorted as Jack went to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You sunk to your knees, hand in your hair. Lilith rose to her feet, striding over to the both of you. "Listen here. You get back in there and save my son." She commands, voice a deadly low. "I'm sorry, ma'am. We can't. It was a bad heart." Lilith's teeth clench. "I said, go save my son." She says, her voice as firm and stern as ever. Jack just stands there for a moment, before trying again, but Lilith turns to you. "Come here." She commands and you get to your feet and follow her. "Get me one of Clay's pill bottles." She says, extending her arm.

"What? M-Miss Beresford, I c-" Stopped short by Lilith's intense gaze as she turned her eyes to yours. "Now." She growls. Your hands shake before reaching down into your bag and grabbing a random pill bottle, handing it entirely to her. She takes it, looks at you once more before going to the cafeteria area. "One coffee." She places the right amount of money on the counter and goes to a table, sitting down and resting her head against the pure white concrete pillar conveniently placed next to her.

Jack doesn't bother staying for any longer, sensing that you need time to yourself and heads back to the operating table. He was ashamed of himself. More than he'd ever been. He killed a man. An innocent one. One he had befriending, one who was scheduled to be married. Just starting his life, getting ready. A tear prickles at the sight of Clay, eyes lifeless under the tape, and chest opened, the heart he poisoned not beating. How could he have done this? For the debt, to repay it. Penny smiles at him, Puttnam going outside to find Dr. Lupin, still on the phone somewhere near the waiting area.

"You did good. No one will know." Penny promises him, the smile vibrant on her twisted face. Jack knows, and the words stab his heart like he stabbed the syringe into the perfectly healthy heart that was supposed to help Clay. Lilith was handed her coffee, and she looked at the pill bottle in her hands, before opening it, and popping one. Then two. Three. Four. The whole bottle. Then drinking the coffee. It was all only a matter of time. In minutes, Clay was looming over his lifeless body again, shaking his head.

He began walking home, leaving the hospital, and once he did, everything came back to him. The epiphany of knowing he died because a group of doctors he trusted planned all along to kill him. He opened the door to his house, and began ascending the stairs, curling up on his bed, his hands folded below between head and pillow.

As his eyes slowly closed and sleep consumed him, he heard a familiar voice. "Hey, Clay." His mother said, and Clay's eyes opened immediately. "What are you doing here?" He looked at his mother's figure in the bedside chair, a soft smile on her face. "You need to come back." Clay scoffed lightly. "How? In case you haven't noticed, I'm dead, Ma." Lilith looks at him seriously. "And what about Y\N? Are you just going to leave her all alone?" Clay frowns. "How, Mom? How can I go back to her if my heart is poisoned?" Lilith smiles, leaning forward in her chair. "I'm here. You go back. Use my heart." Clay stops, his eyes gazing into hers intently. "Mom...."

You sit down and then see the doctors rush out, and they stop at you. "Where's Lilith?" They question at once and then stop as they see Dr, Neyer, Lilith's surgeon boyfriend, walks out with Lilith's dead body. "What happened?!" Penny questions but Dr. Neyer pushes passed and starts for the Operating Room, pulling up another table, placing Lilith on it and getting ready in his doctor attire, squeezing on his gloves and mask, he uses a scalpel to open Lilith's chest. "And what do you think you're doing?" Puttnam says, wanting to step in. Penny stops him and glares at Jack, before they both began to make a break for it. Jack stays for a few more seconds and then heads to his office.

Dr. Neyer transfers Lilith's heart into Clay and the poisoned one into Lilith. Dr. Lupin comes back inside. "What'd I- Oh, hello!" He says with a bit of a chuckle, oblivious to the situation. "Get over here." Dr. Neyer instructs and Dr. Lupin complies, grabbing a fresh pair of gloves and putting them on. "Ready the electric shock." Dr. Neyer instructs, and once more, Lupin complies. Dr. Neyer diligently works on rewiring the heart into the empty spot of Clay's chest. A minute or so later, he notices the heart isn't beating, he instructs Lupin to initiate the electric shock and it doesn't work. "Again." Neyer commands and the electric shock is initiated again, and again and over again, boosted up and then seemingly not working. "I'm sorry, sir... he's gone." Lupin says solemnly. But Neyer demands the electric shock again.

The police are called to the scene, as you call them, under the suspicion something was not right. Especially after seeing Dr. Carver and Dr. Puttnam bolting down the staircase together. The police arrive and search, to your surprise, the two doctors are caught and arrested, apparently after a police offer separately talked to Jack, who spilled everything. Hearing the news stopped your heart, and you couldn't believe ANY of it. But there it was, as clear as day, the evidence and confession.

Minutes after the police arrest Penny, Puttnam and Jack, Dr. Neyer emerges, a happy but tired smile on his face. "We did it." He announces to you, and you tilt your head before realizing; Lilith asked for those pills so she could could save Clay. Tears ran hot down your cheeks as you hugged the surgeon. It was over. An hour later, you were allowed to see Clay.

"Hey, gorgeous." He smiles and you sniffle, wrapping a gentle arm around him, kissing him feverishly. "What's wrong?" He asks, but you decide not to tell him. Not now. "I love you." You tell him, kissing him once more and intertwining your hands together on the recovery bed. "So much." He smiles at you, squeezing your hand. "I love you more."

*2 1\3 hours after initially being pronounced dead by doctors Harper, Carver and Puttnam, Clay would survive his heart transplant.*

This took an hour and a half!

Tags:

@darthgloris

@sweetcheesecakesblog

@haydenpookiebear

#awake 2007 #hayden christensen #clayton beresford jr #this took forever #fluff #slight angst #clay beresford x reader #happiness and tears #series #finished now!#hope you enjoy

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loverforoldermen · 7 months ago

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I crave Hayden Christensen x reader angst.

#makes me sob everytime but it’s so refreshing #anakin #hayden christensen #james kelly #stephen glass #anakin fanfiction #anakin imagine #clay beresford #angst #Hayden Christensen angst

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samonroegf · 6 months ago

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CALLISTA’S MASTERLIST

key ☾ — fluff 𖦹 — smut ✩ — angst

ᜊ ⁀➷ HAYDEN ♡

good teachers create good students 𖦹

bf!hayden christensen brainrot ☾ 𖦹

requests open

ᜊ ⁀➷ ANI ♡

studying w/ anakin normal au mb + hc ☾

anakin + blowjob one-shot 𖦹

anniversaries drabble ☾

cold hands, warm hands ☾

tummy bulge 𖦹

requests open

ᜊ ⁀➷ JAMIE ♡

brainrot hc ☾ 𖦹

calling james dad 𖦹

champagne coast ✩ 𖦹

stressed!reader ☾

something soft ☾

requests open

ᜊ ⁀➷ STEVIE ♡

blowing stephen in his office blurb 𖦹

requests open

ᜊ ⁀➷ SAMMY ♡

dealer!sam monroe x cheerleader!reader masterlist ✩☾𖦹

getting high with sam for the first time ✩☾𖦹

boyfriend hc ☾ 𖦹

motorboating ☾

flashing sam ☾ 𖦹

sam monroe x midsized!ballerina hc ☾

we meet again. rockstar!sam ☾ ✩

high sex 𖦹

forbidden touch. bfb!sam 𖦹 ☾ ✩

dry humping 𖦹

loverboy ☾

cockwarming 𖦹

requests open

ᜊ ⁀➷ CLAY ♡

clay beresford brainrot hc ☾

first date hc ☾

old money!clay moodboard

requests open

#ζ callista says things . ✦#hayden christensen x reader #kurt matheson x reader #james kelly x reader #clay beresford x reader #stephen glass x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #sam monroe x reader #rey skywalker x reader #leia organa x reader #lando callrision x reader #luke skywalker x reader #han solo x reader #padme amidala x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #poe dameron x reader #finn star wars x reader

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andshesaidwhat · 4 months ago

Text

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Summary: Clay Beresford was one of Manhattan’s most notorious playboys. His name, and the money that came with it, garnered him a big reputation. Bored of the spotlight and in need of a distraction, Clay ventures to a hole-in-the-wall strip club in the Lower East Side. When he sees you walk out on that stage, he knows at once that you could be the one to rewrite his story.

Warnings: stripper!reader, playboy!Clay, reader works at a strip club and a lot of the story takes place there, descriptions of sex work, reader has a tragic backstory, mentions of abuse, mentions of homelessness, alcohol consumption, Clay doesn’t have heart problems, eventual smut, pining, angst, Clay has a savior complex, reader doesn’t know how to have non-transactional relationships.

Playlist / Masterlist

Clay Beresford nursed a glass of whiskey as he tried to tune out the droning of yet another young entrepreneur giving him a business pitch.

He went through the motions — nodding and humming, asking the occasional question, taking the knock-off business card — in hopes that they would be satisfied and leave him to his night.

All he wanted was to have a drink and relax, but everywhere he went he was bombarded by people who saw him as an opportunity instead of a person.

He supposed it came with the territory of carrying the Beresford name. He’d inherited an empire from his father, vile as he was, and essentially walked around with dollar signs flashing above his head.

He wasn’t ungrateful for his life, nor did he stray away from the benefits it gave him, he was just…frustrated. He never knew if the people in his life were there because they wanted to know him or because they wanted to know his money. More often than not, it was the latter.

He needed a distraction — something that made him feel a sense of normalcy for once. He finished the last of his whiskey, setting the empty glass down on the marble bar top. He offered a polite goodbye to the bartender and the scrambling businessman before grabbing his coat and walking out of the building.

His driver was already waiting for him outside and he climbed into the backseat of the black SUV, mumbling vague directions as he rubbed at his temples. The driver gave him an odd look in the rear view mirror, but didn’t question it as he drove off toward the Lower East Side.

Clay didn’t venture to this area of Manhattan often — hardly ever, actually — but, when he did, nobody ever noticed him. They had their own lives to deal with and didn’t need to be obsessed with his.

Maybe that was what was drawing him here this time. He wanted to be able to slink into the shadows, just for a little while.

As they drove, Clay watched the city pass from the car window. He cocked his head in interest as they passed a joint with a bright red sign flashing above it.

The Silk Rose.

A gentleman’s club. He snorted, doubting there were any gentlemen in there at all. Still, his interest was piqued. Maybe a night in a sleazy club watching girls dance around in lingerie was exactly what he needed.

He told his driver to park up the street a bit, careful not to draw too much attention to himself. With his hands in his pockets, he kept his head down as he made his way over to the entrance.

The windows and doors were blacked out, preventing any prying eyes from peeking in.

Perfect, he thought. This was just the kind of privacy he was looking for.

He grabbed the door handle, glancing up at the tagline written above his head.

Come on in and see Sal’s Dancing Girls!

The night had been slower for you than usual.

There were the regulars, sitting in their normal spots, but you’d barely broken $250 and hadn’t gotten a single private room booking. Granted, private dances certainly weren’t your favorite part of the job, but they were what made the big bucks. You could handle a creep or two if it meant your bills were paid.

You sat in the dressing room backstage, touching up your makeup and rubbing at your feet that were from the tall heels you wore as you waited for your next set. The area was bustling with the other dancers, all in different states of undress and disarray.

You didn’t mind what you did. You liked dancing — although you’d thought you’d be pursuing dance in a different direction than where you’d ended up. You weren’t forced into this life, like some of the others. You were here by choice. It just maybe wasn’t your first choice.

You were confident in it, though. You knew how to work a room. You knew how to manipulate sleazy men into emptying their wallets. You were always in control.

You certainly didn’t need anyone to save you.

You heard the last song of the previous dancer’s set end and took one more look in the mirror. You removed your robe and adjusted the skimpy costume before taking a deep breath and walking toward the back of the stage.

Showtime.

Clay sat at the bar, prying his glass up from the sticky table and taking a sip as one of the dancers exited the stage. He watched as the workers swept up the money that had been thrown, gathering it into a bag before bringing it to the back.

She’d been fine. Her set was pretty par for the course as far as Clay could expect. He’d still found himself zoning out or focusing more on his drink than her dancing.

After the stage was fully cleared off, the lights dimmed to a deep red as a new song started. It was like the energy in the room shifted. Suddenly, everyone was waiting with bated breath as the next dancer took the stage.

Clay sat up straighter in his seat, setting his glass down as the spotlight hit the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was captivated, mesmerized. Even the way you walked was enticing. He leaned forward, hanging on to every move you made.

He wasn’t the only one, either. You had the entire room wrapped around your finger.

Clay watched as you worked the stage, feeling the energy from the crowd. Then, you began to dance.

He felt breathless. His heart was pounding beneath his chest. The way you moved was like a song in and of itself. You were the music. Your movements told a story and he was very, very curious to unravel it.

You fell into the rhythmic routine, working the stage like you owned it — and, in that moment, you did. The lights warmed your skin as you moved your body to the sensual beat of the music, putting on a tantalizing show of removing bits of your costume until you were left in lingerie.

You scanned the audience, as you normally did, looking for anyone who seemed easy to reel in. People would be surprised at how many extra tips you get when the lonely people in the crowd think you’ve noticed them. However, this time, your eyes landed on one man in particular.

You hadn’t seen him at this club before, but he looked vaguely familiar — and devilishly handsome. He seemed to be transfixed on you, so you let your eyes stay locked with his.

The crystalline blue pulled you in, but there was something else about the way he was looking at you. You were used to stares of lust, envy, even ownership — but he was gazing at you with pure interest. The kind of interest that went beyond physical attraction. He wasn’t just watching you take your clothes off. He was watching you dance.

As the music of your last song faded out you gave the crowd a grin and a wave, winking at the handsome stranger before exiting the stage.

You walked back to your vanity, plopping down in the chair with a tired huff. One of the staff members brought you the bag with your tips and you sorted through it, counting the bills. It wasn’t bad, but it could’ve been better.

You groaned, tired of the slow night, and glanced at the clock. There was only a little over an hour left in your shift.

“What’s wrong, babycakes?”

You turned your head to face the dancer whose vanity was next to yours. She had her chin propped on her hand as she looked at you, her bright pink hair pinned to the top of her head.

Frenchie was the name she went by. She was the only dancer that ever had actual conversations with you. She was nice, if a bit eccentric, and you were grateful for the friendly face.

“Just a slow night, French,” you sighed, shrugging your shoulders.

She scoffed, taking a drag of a cigarette as she said, “Shit, doll. If it’s a slow night for you then it’s a wasteland for the rest of us.”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please,” Frenchie sigh, playfully rolling her eyes. “You’re the fan favorite, babes. Everyone here knows it. That’s why I’m the only one who talks to you.”

You swatted your hand at her with a laugh, shaking your head as you smiled. You spotted your boss, Sal, walking up behind you in your mirror and you tilted your head back to look at him.

“Someone’s requesting you,” he said, gruff as always.

“See?” Frenchie said, sticking her tongue out at you.

You stuck your tongue out back at her before turning back to Sal. “Who is it?”

“Does it matter? He’s paying,” he grunted, shrugging as he rolled his eyes. “It’s room four.”

Sal walked out of the dressing room as you touched up your hair and makeup, glancing over at Frenchie as she prepared to go do her set on stage.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” she said, smacking your ass as she walked past you.

“Knock ‘em dead, French,” you called out after her, laughing softly.

You took a deep, steadying breath as you walked down the long hallway, readying yourself to face whatever greaseball would be waiting for you. This was where you made the most money, it just also happened to be the part you hated the most.

You stopped outside of the door labeled with the big number 4 and gave a silent plea to whatever was out there that this would go by smoothly.

To your delight, you didn’t see any of the sleazy regulars when you opened the door. Instead, you saw the handsome stranger who had been watching you so intently during your set.

A sultry smile pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t supposed to enjoy these sessions — this was work, after all, and you were doing a job — but it didn’t hurt when the clients looked this pretty.

“I was hoping it was you that requested me,” you said, walking into the room with a sway of your hips.

It was true, but you would’ve said it regardless. That was the job. Make them feel seen and important so that they handed over more money.

The handsome stranger’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at you, seeming to relax into the moment.

“I’m happy not to let you down, then,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Please, join me.”

He gestured over to a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of ice by the plush leather couch. His gaze lingered on you as you walked into the room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He felt a sense of excitement building within him — an anticipation that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Your eyes almost widened. Champagne? You were lucky to get so much as a polite introduction when you worked these rooms. You hadn’t ever had a customer provide refreshments. By the looks of the bottle, it wasn’t the cheap kind either.

Who was this man and why did he feel so familiar?

“So, tell me,” he said, pouring some of the champagne into a glass and offering it to you, “what’s your name?”

You kept up your performance facade, taking the glass from him and batting your lashes.

“It’s in poor form to ask personal details of the dancers,” you tutted, a teasing smile adorning your lips. “You can call me Cherry.”

All of the dancers had names that you went by. Yours just so happened to be Cherry. The name held a certain significance to you and you were grateful for the protection of identity — in more ways than one.

“Ah, Cherry,” he smiled, the name sitting nicely on his tongue. “I like that. I’m Clay.”

He paused for a moment, studying you as if he was waiting for some kind of reaction. When he didn’t get one, he nodded with a small smile and relaxed into the couch.

“I hope you enjoy the champagne,” he said, bringing his own glass to his lips. “I thought it might make you more comfortable while we…talk.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, taking a sip of the delicious bubbles. People who rented these rooms didn’t usually want to talk. They wanted you to dance and wanted to see how far they could bend the rules.

There were certain rules that you and the customers had to follow. Neither the dancers nor the customers could be fully nude, the customers and the dancers could not touch each other, and under no circumstances could the dancers maintain personal or intimate relationships with the customers.

Clay seemed…different. He was tempting in all of the wrong ways. You knew you had to tread carefully.

“So, Cherry,” Clay began, throwing an arm across the back of the couch, “what do you like to do for fun?”

A playful smirk pulled at your lips as you asked, “Is this not fun?”

Clay’s eyes lit up at your question and he laughed — a deep, rich sound.

“Oh, it’s definitely fun,” he said, smiling, “but I was thinking more along the lines of getting to know you. I’d love to learn more about you.” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “If you’re willing to share, of course.”

Getting to know you? This guy books a stripper to get to know her?

“Respectable,” you nodded. “Most people just book me to see how close they can get to touching me. You can’t, by the way. Touch me, that is. It’s strictly against the rules.”

You set your champagne glass down on the table and walked over to the stereo to turn on some slow, sensual music.

“You paid for an hour long dance, so I’d be doing a poor job if I didn’t comply,” you said, sauntering back over to him.

You should’ve just started dancing and stuck to your job, but his pretty eyes were so intrigued that you couldn’t say no to him.

“How about this,” you offered, “you ask questions while I dance. Deal?”

Clay’s eyes gleamed with delight as he nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

“Deal,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Oh, and Cherry?”

He set his glass down before leaning back into the couch with a grin.

“I have to warn you, I’m not very good at following rules.”

You placed your hands on the cushion behind his head, leaning over him as you swayed your hips.

“If you want to keep the session going, you’d better be,” you whispered, warning in your tone. “Otherwise, the fun would be over. So keep your hands by your sides, pretty boy.”

His eyes flashed with amusement as he raised an eyebrow, but he obediently placed his hands at his sides.

“Oh, I’ll be good,” he promised. “I wouldn’t want the fun to stop.”

He trailed his gaze over your figure, watching as you danced.

“Back to my original question, Cherry,” he said, flicking his eyes back up to yours. “What do you like to do when you aren’t…dancing?”

You stood up again, seductively twirling and swaying to the beat as you thought about the question.

You weren’t sure how much you wanted to reveal to him. He was still just a pretty face — a very tempting pretty face. He wasn’t the first person to come in here with delusions of grandeur. You didn’t want him to reel you in.

“I like to read,” you said, rolling your hips. “I like to watch cheesy romance movies, and I’m a damn good cook.”

His eyes sparkled with interest as you answered, his gaze never leaving yours.

“A woman of many talents,” he murmured, a soft smile on his face. He leaned forward slightly as he asked, “What kind of romance movies do you like to watch?”

“The ones with every cliche in the book,” you grinned, swirling around to the music. “I want the sappy love confessions, the angsty miscommunication, and the big fight that leads to the romantic kiss in the rain.”

You leaned over him again, rotating your hips as you bent down to whisper in his ear, “and it’s gotta have a good sex scene.”

Clay’s gaze darkened at your words, his breathing quickening. He felt a surge of desire course through his veins and he had to force himself to remain still, to not reach out and touch you.

He paused for a moment, then asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

You laughed softly in his ear, leaning back up as you continued dancing.

“That kind of thing only exists in fiction, pretty boy,” you said, trying not to sound bitter.

He smiled, cocking his head to the side with a small laugh.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice dripping with skepticism, “but I think there’s something to be said for the idea that two people can just click, you know?”

He leaned toward, his eyes locked onto yours as he said, “I think maybe we click, Cherry.”

You scoffed, an amused smile etched into your features as you rolled your eyes.

“Do you know how many people come here and claim they fell in love with me? People pay me to give them a show, and I deliver. It’s all transactional. I’m in the business of temporarily filling the vacant holes in people’s lives.”

Clay’s eyes never left yours, his expression tense with something that bordered understanding.

“Yes, I do,” he said, his voice serious. “I’m not naive enough to think that we’re anything more than what we are here tonight…but sometimes, Cherry, I think people need a little bit of fantasy. Just for tonight, let’s forget about life and reality outside of these walls. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company, okay?”

A pretty face that spoke pretty words.

Damn him.

“Fine,” you obliged, smiling despite yourself. “Still, no touching, but you can carry on with your questions.”

“Excellent,” he said, his eyes sparkling with triumph as his mouth curled into a satisfied grin. “What’s the most memorable performance you’ve ever given?”

You smiled, playfully, and responded, “Seventh grade ballet recital, hands down. Not a dry eye in the house.”

“Seventh grade, huh?” Clay chuckled. “I never would’ve guessed. What made it so memorable?”

A fond smile graced your lips as you let your mind reminisce on a memory you didn’t usually let yourself wander to.

“I used to have really terrible stage fright. I’d get under the lights and I’d just freeze. I had been working really hard all year on this solo and I got selected to perform in the recital. Right as I went on stage, I forgot every piece of choreography. I was so panicked, I wanted to run off the stage and hide. Then, I heard the music start and I just…danced. I let the music move me. To this day, it’s still the freest I’ve ever felt.”

You shook your head, instantly regretting the vulnerability.

“Never mind that, though,” you laughed. “You think everything is world changing when you’re that age.”

Clay’s eyes softened, his expression becoming more contemplative. “I think that’s beautiful,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “The fact that you were able to find freedom in that moment, despite your fears and doubts…it’s truly inspiring.” He paused, his gaze lingering on yours. “I think that’s what makes human connection so powerful. We can be ourselves, without apology, and find freedom in that vulnerability.” The skin by his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “Speaking of which, Cherry…do you believe everyone has a story worth telling?”

“I think there are stories to be found everywhere, if you look hard enough,” you shrugged, refilling his champagne glass.

“Ah, a philosopher, too,” he smirked, his voice ripe with amusement. “I think you might be the most fascinating person I’ve met in a very long time.”

He thought for a moment as he took the champagne glass, then said, “Would you like to hear a story, Cherry?”

“A dance for a story,” you pondered. “I think that’s a fair transaction.”

Clay’s eyes lit up with excitement as he sipped his drink. “Excellent,” he grinned, settling back into the couch. “I’ve always loved the story of Romeo and Juliet. The passion, the tragedy, the love that consumed them both. Imagine if Romeo and Juliet lived in modern times, Cherry. Would they still fall in love? Would they still meet the same fate?”

“I think Romeo and Juliet were two horny teenagers, too naive for their own good,” you smirked, swaying to the music.

Your movements absentmindedly transitioned from sensual to holding the essence of his storytelling as he spoke.

“Ah, but that’s what makes their story so tragic,” he countered, shaking his head. “Their naivety is what drives them to take such reckless risks, to chase after a love that seems impossible. Yet, despite the danger, despite the obstacles, despite the fact that they come from different worlds…they still manage to find each other, to connect on a deeper level. Don’t you think that’s what makes love so intoxicating?”

He paused, his gaze searching yours before he laughed softly and said, “Or am I just a hopeless romantic?”

“You’re hopeless, alright,” you joked, despite the fact that his words managed to pang your heart.

You did not fall in love. You didn’t even think about love. One stranger’s pretty words weren’t going to change that. This was transactional.

His stories were so compelling, though…

You leaned over him again, bringing your face as close to his as you could without making contact.

“You know what I think?” You whispered, glancing down at his lips. “I think our time is up.”

The clock rang, signaling that the hour was over. You straightened up and stepped back, giving him one last wink.

“Thanks for the story, pretty boy.”

Clay’s face seemed to fall with disappointment as you pulled away from him, but his voice remained smooth and charming.

“Until next time, Cherry.”

As you left the room and returned to your vanity, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. His words lingered with you, throwing you off balance.

You gathered your things and changed into your regular clothing, clocking out at the back door. As you were about to leave, Sal stopped you and handed you a wad of cash.

“Here,” he said, “for the private room.”

You’d been so caught up in the moment with Clay that you hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that you didn’t get a single dollar from him.

You thumbed through the cash, expecting to see the usual earnings of maybe $50 or so. Your eyes widened as you counted out $1,000.

He’d tipped you that much? What kind of man was he?

Normally, you didn’t any of the customers a second thought once you were away from work, but this one wouldn’t worm his way out of your head.

Damn these men and their pretty words and ideas of love and fate. That was a life you had left behind.

Once you’d returned home to your apartment, you showered the day off of your skin and changed into more comfortable clothing. You made yourself a quick dinner before settling into your couch and flicking the television on.

The screen lit up in the middle of some story on a celebrity gossip channel. You were only half listening as you ate your food, your mind still reeling from the events that had occurred with the handsome stranger. You couldn’t shake that something still felt so familiar about him.

Your ears perked up at the sound of a name that struck a chord deep within you. Your jaw dropped as you glanced up at the screen, seeing those dazzling blue eyes and his crinkled smile.

The reporters voice rang out about the youngest CEO Manhattan had ever seen as your heart sank to your feet.

Holy shit.

The handsome stranger was Clay fucking Beresford.

#smut #fanfiction #hayden christensen smut #smutrequests #clay beresford smut #clay beresford #clay beresford x reader

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geekforhorror · 4 months ago

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Clay beresford with coworker! Reader and promoter #34?

night shift

pairing: ceo clay beresford x assistant fem!reader

prompt: “I’m afraid I can no longer remain professional”

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!clay, sub!reader, forbidden romance, hickeys, teasing, angst.

a/n: i was too lazy to finish this sorry yall 😓

It was just another night shift at the office. Your boss, Clay, was running a bit behind on his work and he asked if you could stay overtime and help him out. If you had been working for anyone else, you would’ve said no instantly, but he wasn’t like anyone else. He was nice, charming, and hot…annoyingly hot.

Every time you stepped into the office, you were always greeted by him and his dreamy smile. He made sure to always give you credit where it was due since you worked so hard. It was safe to say both of you harbored feelings more than any coworkers should.

You were currently climbing up the stairs with two coffees in your hands, preparing for the long work night ahead of you two. You finally reach his office space before knocking on the door.

“Come in!” Clay gently says in a volume you can hear. You do as the man asks and you finally open the door, trying to balance the coffee at the same time so it doesn’t spill. That would be more than embarrassing for you in front of your boss.

“I got us some coffees,” you say cheerfully.

“You didn’t have to,” he says with a big smile on that beautiful face of his.

“Well I wanted to,” you say, now returning his smile before handing him his cup.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Clay says.

“Well that’s something you’ll never have to worry about,” you respond.

Clay brings the cup up to his lips before taking a big sip of coffee. Shortly after, he sets the cup on the table.

“Does it taste good? I hope I didn’t mess it up,” you say with worry.

“You did it just right,” Clay chuckles.

“Okay good, then we can start with the paperwork,” you say with relief. There was something odd that you saw in Clay’s face when you said that. He looks at you like he’s guilty of something…like he wants to get something off his chest. “Mr. Beresford, what’s wrong?”

“Please call me Clay,” he answers.

“Clay, what’s wrong?” you say full of concern.

“The truth is…there is no paperwork,” he says.

Wait what?

“Then why do you want to see me,” you ask.

“I want you,” he rasps before moving his way towards you.

“Clay, we can’t…” you let out.

“I’m afraid I can no longer stay professional,” Clay admits before kissing you hungrily on the lips. His hands cradle your face as the kiss grows deeper, only causing you to moan. He pulls away, but only for a second. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to see you every day and not be able to do something about it, sweetheart?” he says full of frustration.

“I’ve wanted this too, Clay,” you say, full of desperation. You needed him.

“Then let me ravage you the way you deserve,” he says huskily.

This was wrong. You should tell him to stop, but you weren’t. Instead, you allow him to keep caressing your body which only makes him pull you closer to him. He hoists you up, your legs now wrapped around him, never wanting to let him go.

“Please Clay…do something…anything,” you beg.

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” he replies.

With that, he sets you down on his desk, clearing everything out of the path and onto the now messy floor. He usually hated messes, but he didn’t give a damn if it meant he could finally show you how much he wanted you. You lay there, anticipating his next move, which comes sooner than you think when he latches his lips onto your collarbone.

“Good thing we have the office all to ourselves, darling.”

#clay beresford smut #clay beresford #clay beresford x reader #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #star wars #star wars fandom #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin imagine #anakin star wars #hayden christensen smut

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sockiess · 7 months ago

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OFFICIAL MASTERLIST

Requests: Open! (please request things!)

Sam Monroe:

Love is a gentle thing

So Rich, So Pretty

A rebel without a clue

Piercing

Hey Emo Boy! (NSFW)

Pregnancy

we might as well just fuck (NSFW)

Excuse me?

Clay Beresford:

Best day of the year (NSFW)

Scott Barringer:

Listen to Iron Maiden with me

Pretty girl

Spiderman! Scott Barringer

Nail Polish

Frenemies part 1

Frenemies part 2

Hickeys

Idiots in love

So kiss me

Tatted Up

Anakin Skywalker:

Nerdy Boy

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cookybananas · 4 months ago

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Ⓜ Ⓐ Ⓢ Ⓣ Ⓔ Ⓡ Ⓛ Ⓘ Ⓢ Ⓣ

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider! ༺♥༻❀༺♥༻ Blurbs ༺♥༻❀༺♥༻ ➨ Anakin and Obi-wan Saving Slave!Reader

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻ One Shots ༺♥༻❀༺♥༻

➨ This Wasn't The Plan - {Former!Anakin Skywalker x Reader} ➨ It's Casual Right? - {Modern!Anakin Skywalker x Reader} ➨ The Aftermath - {Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker x Deceased!Reader}

➨ Into You - {Unburnt/Darth Vader x Reader}

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻ Mini-Series ༺♥༻❀༺♥༻ ➨ Do I Know You? - {Burnt!Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker x Reader} - Part I ➺ Part II ➨ It's Been a Long Time, Old Friend - {Unburnt!Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker x Reader} - Part I ➺ Part II ➺ Part III

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chiaraanatra · 9 months ago

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✧⋆˙𝐻𝑎𝑦𝑑𝑒𝑛 - 𝑀𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ๋࣭ ⭑

I don't care if we fuck, or if we talk, or if we cry. I just miss you. - Kiss You to Death by Alkaline Trio

《 navi 》《 rules 》《 inbox 》《 ao3 》《 tag list 》

∘₊✧────✧₊∘ ! 18+ MINORS DNI ! ∘₊✧───✧₊∘

── 🤍- Fluff | 🖤- Angst | 💜- Smut | ✧- Request ──

✧⋆˙ Anakin Skywalker ๋࣭ ⭑

𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠: - Intoxicating 🤍💜 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑠 : - Here for You 🤍🖤

✧⋆˙ James Kelly ๋࣭ ⭑

𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠: - Peach 🤍💜

✧⋆˙ David Rice ๋࣭ ⭑

𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠: - I'll Look After You🖤💜

✧⋆˙ AJ ๋࣭ ⭑

𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠: - Perrito 💜✧

✧⋆˙ Sam Monroe ๋࣭ ⭑

𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑠 : - Thief 💜

✧⋆˙ Leo Campo ๋࣭ ⭑

✧⋆˙ Clay Beresford ๋࣭ ⭑

∘₊✧ ────── updated 5·9·24 ────── ✧₊∘

──💜𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒💜──

DISCLAIMER: 1) My blog may contain explicit content that some may find sensitive! Your media consumption is your responsibility! Minors please DNI!! 2) My works are not to be copied, reposted, translated, or used without my permission. AO3 & Tumblr are the only platforms I post on, under the username ChiaraAnatra. If you see my works anywhere else, please let me know!

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #david rice #james kelly #american heist #star wars #m.list #jumper (2008)

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hayden-christensen-verse · 30 days ago

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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾MasterList𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

🌸 = fluff/sfw, 🌹 = NSFW, 🥀 = angst, 🪻 = normal

🍁Hayden Christensen🍁

📖Stephen Glass📖

💸Clay beresford💸

🔧James Kelly🔧

🌌Anakin Skywalker🌌

🚬Sam Monroe🚬

🗻Scott Barringer🗻

🗡️Jacob🗡️

💤Kurt💤

🎐Padme🎐

📜obi-wan📜

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erinkeifer · 11 months ago

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Please, keep in mind this is an 18+ blog ♡

It's mostly sweet in here, but remember- this is a dark content-friendly blog. Don't worry if such content appears—I'll clearly mark it in warnings so you can be cautious of the posts that you might prefer not to interact with. I want everyone to feel comfortable here.

DMs and requests are open! ♡

WHO I WRITE FOR:

Anakin Skywalker

Hayden Christensen & his other characters such as:

James Kelly

Clay Beresford

Sam Monroe

Leo Campo

Stephen Glass

YES! - CONTENT I WRITE FOR:

Smut, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort/No Comfort

Female Readers/Female OCs

Dark Content, so... It means that I also write for:

Non-con/Dub-con play

Literally about most kinks, including: blood kink, pain kink, knife play, fear play, etc... (You know what I mean). Exceptions I don't write about will be covered in the next category.

Age gaps

Step!Bro, Step!Dad (nothing blood related of course)

About any of your ideas, calm or not, even the wildest and spiciest. Don't hesitate to reach out to me—I'm kinky myself, and this is a shame-free and taboo-free zone!

NO! CONTENT I WILL NOT AND DO NOT WRITE FOR:

Kinks such as: piss/scat/vomit (again- you know what I mean)

Anything underage

Age play

Polyamory

Obikin (don't even try) Ahsoka x Anakin (same)

Anidala (I'm sorry, but in my universe YOU are with Ani)

If you have any questions, concerns, don't hesitate to reach out. My DMs are always open for you, whether you have requests, questions, or just want to chat. ♡

#blog rules #before asking #rules #navigation

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samonroegf · 6 months ago

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⠀　　｡･*:･ﾟ★ skywqlkergf’s 100 followers celly ･*:･ﾟ☆

hi, thank you so much for following me, i like to do celebrations when i hit a follower milestone. partially because it's fun and everyone gets to participate but also because it helps me put out extra content for you guys. i’ve never felt so welcomed and ecstatic to be apart of an online community. love you guys so much!

so sit back, grab a drink and let's have some fun!

requesting rules. masterlist. navigation

fluff prompts. angst prompts. smut prompts.

characters you can send for this celly — sam monroe, anakin skywalker, clay beresford, james kelly, kurt matheson, stephen glass

🎧 — send this with a prompt + character and get a blurb / one shot

💿 — send this with a song and I'll give you a small scene based on it

📓 — send this with information about you (astrology, mbti, likes/dislikes, hobbies, etc.) and I'll ship you with one of the characters listed above

🐈‍⬛ — send this with an au and a character and I'll make a moodboard + 5 - 10 hc

🕷️ — time to celebrate other creators, send this with your favorite fic and show that creator some love! i will read the fic, reblog it and everything!

🎮 — give me a kink and I'll tell you which character is most likely to have it

🎬 — let's chat! rant about anything, vent, just chat, brainrot over anyone, just come talk to me about anything and everything!

🎱 — let's play a game! hot or not, fuck + marry + kill, would you rather, cast your mutuals as, etc. ( can be unrelated to hayden + his films ).

🛹 — ( mutuals only ) send this and I'll make you a moodboard on how i perceive you.

tagging mutuals for boost : @anisscarletstarlet @euphorichistory @heartsforanakin @jameskellygf @motelofmermaids @starwarsbian @lunalitva @sockiess @ysrjune @geekforhorror @anisscarletstarlet @decaffeinatedunicorn @anisdolly @garbagebomb @vixxensvoid @divineani

#ζ callista says things . ✦#100 followers celly

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andshesaidwhat · 2 months ago

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Cherry - Clay Beresford

Summary: After a bad shift at the club leaves you shaken, you make the decision to call the number that Clay had left you — effectively changing the boundaries of your interactions forever.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering (reader receiving), handjob (Clay receiving), nipple play, teasing, lots of praise, multiple orgasms (Clay and reader receiving), angst, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, descriptions of sex work, brief mention of a deceased family member, a lil glimpse of some domestic fluff.

Playlist | Masterlist

You had stared at Clay’s phone number more than you hadn’t over the last week.

You had it memorized at this point. You could recite it in your sleep, envisioning the quirks of his handwriting and the specific ways he wrote the numbers.

Everything in you wanted to call him, even if it was just to hear his voice. You had even caved and admitted to yourself that you wanted to hear another one of his whimsically poetic stories.

It was killing you slowly, but you had fought with everything in you to resist the urge. You knew that if you gave into the temptation there would be no going back. Once that line was crossed, you wouldn’t be able to recover those boundaries.

Still, the urge grew worse with everyday that passed by without him showing back up to the club.

Maybe he’d decided to keep his distance unless you called — taking it as a sign of you rejecting his advances. Or, maybe he was just busy with work.

You hoped it was the latter.

The thought of never seeing Clay again was something you couldn’t let yourself think about. It felt too devastating, too indicative of the attachment you’d unwittingly formed to him.

You showed up to the club for your Friday shift, feeling distracted and detached. Those ten digits were dancing in your mind like a taunt, a tease.

You went through the motions of your first set on autopilot, knowing you weren’t at your best. It didn’t seem to matter much as the bills came flying in.

Of course, they didn’t care about the time, effort, and artistry that went in to performing like you and the other dancers did. All that mattered to them was that your clothes came off.

You walked off the stage once you finished, trying to get a hold of yourself. Your emotions were all over the place. This was not a usual problem for you. You normally couldn’t care less about these things, but Clay’s presence had shattered your usual way of living.

His absence had made it even worse.

You sat at your station, holding your head in your hands, as Sal walked up behind you. He gave you a once over, furrowing his brow in a look that bordered on concern before shaking his head.

“You’ve got a private booking,” he told you. “Room four.”

Your ears perked up as your heart fluttered, a small glimmer of hope sparking inside of you. Sal walked away as you looked in the mirror, trying to conceal your smile while you quickly touched up your appearance.

You all but ran down the hallway, the anticipation growing as you got closer to your destination. You opened the door, ready to meet those dazzling blue eyes again — to hear his stories, to answer his questions.

Your heart plummeted to the floor and your stomach twisted into knots as you were instead met with a dark, lust-filled stare. You recognized the man — a semi-regular who always tried to cop a feel of the dancers when they’d walk past him.

His eyes raked over your figure, like a predator sizing up its prey. His twisted smile made you feel nauseous. He watched you, expectantly — sprawled out on the couch as he waited for you to give him a show.

You used to be able to do this easily. You could compartmentalize the disgust, dance for them, turn them on so they turned out their pockets.

It was a business, an art that you had perfected.

Now, it just felt so wrong. Being in this room, your room, seeing some sleazy man sitting in the spot that Clay should be sitting in…

You didn’t want to do this. You couldn’t do this.

Your breathing felt shallow as your chest tightened. You couldn’t seem to focus on anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to push through it.

You turned around and rushed out of the room, unable to hear the man’s complaints and protests over the ringing in your ears.

Barely registering your surroundings, you changed and grabbed your things. You muttered something to Sal about being sick and told him to take the fee for the private room out of your next check before leaving the club.

You got back to your apartment, pacing the floors as you tried to calm yourself down. You didn’t know what was happening to you. This had never been a problem before, but now…

Now there was him.

You fished through your bag, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper. You stared at it, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you warred with yourself.

You dialed the number, your thumb hovering over the call button.

I shouldn’t do this, you thought. There will be no going back.

Before you could finish talking yourself out of it, you pressed the button. You raised the phone up to your ear, holding your breath as it rang. Your heart pounded in your chest, each second that passed feeling like a lifetime.

You were about to hang up and forget about the whole thing when you heard him pick up.

“Hello?” Clay’s voice rang out from the other line. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to form any words as you panicked. He waited for a moment and then said, “Cherry? Is that you?”

The anxiety you’d felt instantly quelled at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said, grimacing at the way your voice trembled. “I hope it’s okay that I called.”

“Of course it’s okay,” he replied, the smile evident in the way he spoke. “I had been hoping that you would.” He paused, hesitating before he asked, “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

For once, you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend that things were okay — that you weren’t affected. You couldn’t keep up the carefully crafted facade you’d spent years creating. Something in the way he spoke, the genuine concern in his tone, cracked through your stone walls.

Your bottom lip quivered as you said, “I don’t know.”

“What happened, Cherry?” Clay asked, gently. “I’m here to listen, whatever it is.”

“I, um…I was working my shift at the club, and…” Your voice broke off as you huffed out a shaky breath. You weren’t used to this — being vulnerable with someone. Your hands shook as you tried to open up for the first time in years. “I was told that I had a private booking and I thought it was you, but it wasn’t… It was this creep that comes in sometimes. Normally, I can push through it. It was just…the way he looked at me. It was like I wasn’t a person, like I was just some object that he owned for the hour. I didn’t like being in there with him — not in our room and…I just couldn’t do it this time. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, softly. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt for you.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as you took a deep breath and said, “I chose my job. I don’t regret it. It allowed me to survive, to provide for myself. I just…thought about you. I thought about your stories. I started thinking that, maybe, I want to write a better story for myself.”

Clay let out a breath, sounding like a sigh of relief, as he said, “You can write any story you want.”

Blinking back tears, you nodded to yourself. Something about his encouragement made you believe it.

“I think I want…” You trailed off, not fully sure what you were even saying. “I mean, if you wanted…if you weren’t busy and you wanted…I told you once I liked to cook and…”

Clay laughed softly and said, “Go on.”

“Would you want to…” You paused, taking a deep breath as you decided to put yourself out on the line. “Would you want to come over? I could cook dinner.”

“I would love to,” Clay responded, immediately.

A relieved sigh escaped your lips as a small smile grew on your face. You bit your lip, trying to contain your giddiness.

“Good. That’s good,” you said, awkwardly, internally cringing at yourself. Clay just chuckled, his deep voice sounding light and airy. “I can text you the details and everything.”

“Alright, that sounds perfect,” he said, the smile evident in his voice. “I’ll be looking forward to it. I’ll see you soon, Cherry.”

“I’ll see you soon, pretty boy,” you whispered back, listening to the silence as the call ended.

You put the phone down, squealing to yourself. The events of the day were nearly forgotten, now replaced by the excitement you felt.

Clay was going to be in your home.

Oh god…Clay was going to be in your home.

You looked around your apartment, beginning to panic as you started to frantically clean. You’d never had anyone come over and you suddenly felt the need to make sure every surface was spotless.

This was going to be much different than meeting him in the club. When you were there, you could keep pretending that you were just two strangers dancing in your little bubble. Inviting him into your home meant inviting him into your life.

You could only hope you wouldn’t end up regretting it.

A few hours later, dinner was finishing up in the oven as you waited for Clay to arrive. The nerves swarmed like bees in your stomach, each second feeling like an eternity.

Your heart leapt in your chest as you heard the soft sound of Clay knocking at your door.

This is it, you thought, there’s no going back.

You rubbed your shaky hands against your pants, realizing that this would be the first time he’d see you in real clothes. Somehow, you felt more naked now than you did in the lingerie. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d still like you when you weren’t the incarnation of a fantasy.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and met those dazzling blue eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed, feeling all of the nerves dissipate.

“Hi,” Clay smiled, holding out a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. “I didn’t know if the champagne was still a requirement, so I brought it just in case.”

“Thank you,” you laughed, softly, turning your head to hide your blush as you took the flowers from him. You stepped back, holding the door open as you said, “Come on in.”

You held your breath and watched as he walked in to your apartment, looking around with a small smile. He seemed to be taking in every detail and you were grateful that you’d taken the time to clean.

“You have a lovely place,” he spoke, after a moment, turning to you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It feels like a real home.”

You looked around, too, imagining seeing it through his eyes. It showed him more about you, you supposed. You had little knickknacks and decorations scattered about, hinting to little pieces of your personality.

“It’s nothing much, really,” you shrugged, looking down. It was a simple one bedroom apartment, small and cozy. “It’s probably not nearly as big as you’re accustomed to.”

“Bigger doesn’t mean better, Cherry,” he said, a hint of longing in his voice. Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “Well, in most cases, at least.”

With a playful roll of your eyes you led him into your small kitchen as you said, “Dinner is almost ready.”

You grabbed a jug of water out of the fridge, pouring some of it out before sticking the flowers in it. You noticed the way Clay raised a brow at your actions and said, “What? I don’t have any vases. I don’t exactly get flowers often.”

Clay chuckled, shaking his head as he said, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to invest in some. Though, the water jug does add character.”

He set the bottle of champagne down on the small kitchen table and leaned against the counter, watching you as you grabbed some oven mitts and turned off the timer.

You were very aware of his gaze on you as you opened the oven, nearly dropping the dish as you pulled it out and set it on the stove.

Clay inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he hummed to himself.

“That smells amazing, Cherry,” he groaned, gazing hungrily at the steaming dinner. “You’re an incredible chef.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet, pretty boy,” you giggled, grabbing plates and glasses to set the table.

“I guess I just trust your abilities implicitly,” he said, playfully.

He took the initiative to help you set everything out, putting on the oven mitts himself to carry the dish of food over. He poured the champagne as you filled the plates with food, the two of you working in tandem naturally.

As you both sat down, you held your breath as you watched Clay pick up his fork. His eyes widened as he took a bite of the food, looking up to meet yours with a twinkle of delight.

“I was right,” he smiled, nodding his head in confirmation. “This is delicious.”

“Well, I’m glad I haven’t poisoned you,” you joked, trying to deflect from the way his compliment made your heart skip.

He took a sip of the champagne and asked, “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

There was a small pang in your chest as you quietly responded, “My grandmother.”

“She must be quite exceptional if she taught you to make food this good,” he smiled, taking another bite.

“Yeah,” you nodded, solemnly. “She was.”

Clay’s eyes flickered with understand as he said, “I’m sorry, Cherry.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “Do you want to tell me about her?”

“That’s a story for another day, pretty boy,” you told him, smiling sadly.

“Another day, then,” he said, softly. As he continued to eat, he glanced around the apartment again, changing the subject. “You’ve created a wonderful space here.”

“It’s the first place that’s ever been mine,” you shrugged, looking around with a proud gleam in your eyes. “It may not be much, but it’s enough for me.”

“It’s perfect, Cherry,” he said, that look of longing returning to his face. “It feels safe and warm. It means a lot to me that you’d let me in.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before the sheer emotion flowing between you two became too overwhelming.

As you finished dinner, you started to gather the plates and bring them to the sink. Clay didn’t hesitate to help, grabbing the other dishes and rolling up his sleeves to wash them.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” you said, sheepishly.

“I insist,” he responded firmly, but kind. “You made me a wonderful dinner. Please, let me help.”

You nodded, silently, watching him move around your apartment with ease. It all felt dangerously domestic, filling you with a warmth you weren’t familiar with. It was oddly natural, being with him in this way. The simplicity felt so much more intimate than anything else you’d done.

He washed the dishes while you dried them, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He looked so human. His black sweater was rolled up to his elbows as his hands were covered in suds. In the dim kitchen lighting, he looked beautiful. More beautiful than you had ever seen him.

“You can stare as long as you want, you know,” he grinned, turning his head to catch your eye. “I don’t mind.”

You bit your lip, looking down at the plate you were drying to hide the blush that warmed your cheeks.

“I was just looking at the suds you’ve got on your nose,” you shrugged, smiling bashfully.

“Mhm, sure,” he nodded, chuckling softly as he turned off the sink. “There. All done.”

“Thank you for your help,” you said, softly, turning to him, “and thank you for coming over tonight.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Cherry,” he smiled. “I had a wonderful time.” He reached out to gently grab your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “I hope there are many more nights like this.”

You gasped as your eyes met his. Those goddamn eyes could reel you in every single time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Remember when I told you my favorite color was blue?” you asked, quietly.

“Yes,” Clay nodded, his voice a whisper. “Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t mean blue like the ocean,” you breathed. “I meant blue like your eyes. I don’t think I had a favorite color until I looked into them.”

Clay’s breath hitched, his gaze swimming with a newfound intensity.

“You’re…beautiful, Cherry,” he whispered, cupping your cheek as his thumb caressed your skin.

You couldn’t help but lean into the warmth of his gentle touch, feeling your heart racing in your chest. He glanced down at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

Slowly, he lowered his head, pressing his lips against yours in a soft embrace. You sighed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Clay’s hands found your waist, pulling you into him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased your lips, requesting entrance that you gladly granted. Your hands tangled in his hair, feeling the soft locks as he groaned into your mouth. His breathing was labored as you pressed further into him, kissing him like he was feeding the oxygen into your lungs.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed at you breathlessly.

“Cherry…” he whispered, his voice raw with desire and unsaid emotion.

The intensity in his gaze, the feelings flowing within it, nearly made your knees buckle. He looked at you like he needed you, like nothing else in the world could ever matter more than this moment.

Don’t run away. Don’t run away. Don’t run away.

You didn’t know if you were mentally pleading to yourself, or to him. All of your instincts screamed to put your walls back up, to block anyone out, to keep a hardened shell around your heart.

You didn’t want to do that anymore. This was worth the risk. He was worth the risk.

You kept your gaze locked on his as you reached for his hand, leading him back toward your bedroom.

Clay followed willingly, his breaths coming out shaky. He squeezed your hand, looking at you with a mixture of apprehension and adoration as he asked, “Are you sure, Cherry?”

You held his face in your hands, gazing up into his eyes. Looking at him like this, it all made sense. For a moment, all of your fears and doubts seemed to vanish.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you breathed.

The smile that grew on Clay’s face was enough to stop your heart.

“Then I’m yours,” he whispered.

He kissed you with a new intensity, not an ounce of hesitation in the action. Your fists clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you as your lips moved against his. Clay moaned softly, sliding his hands up your back to press your body into his.

You let your tongue tease his bottom lip as you slipped your hands beneath his shirt, feeling the taut skin that stretched across rippling muscles. Your fingernails gently scratched against the sensitive skin of his hips.

Clay groaned, arching into your touch as his grip on you tightened. He broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“I want this off,” you whispered against his lips, tugging impatiently at the material of his shirt.

He lifted his arms, letting you take it off as his muscles flexed. You took your time, letting your eyes travel along every inch of exposed skin. Desire swelled in the pit of your stomach as you rubbed your hands across his chest.

“You’re exquisite, pretty boy,” you breathed, looking up at him again.

“Exquisite?” Clay echoed, swallowing thickly as he reacted to your touch.

You trailed your fingers down the rivets in his abdomen, stopping at the waistband of his jeans. You toyed with the button, keeping your eyes locked on his.

Clay let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as he waited for your next move.

Slowly, you pulled his zipper down and pushed his jeans down his legs. You couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him. The contrast of his muscular build against his tight, black boxer briefs was enough to make you drool.

“Fuck, pretty boy,” you whispered, your eyes still roaming his body. “You’re goddamn work of art.”

Clay groaned, a blush of his own dusting his cheeks as he breathed, “You’re killing me, Cherry.”

You slowly removed your own clothes, smirking as Clay’s breath hitched the moment he caught a glimpse of that red lingerie set.

“See?” you grinned. “I told you. Just for you.”

“Jesus Christ…” Clay whispered, his eyes raking over your figure. He stepped toward you, reaching out to trace his fingers over the red lace. His eyes were filled with need and his voice was hoarse with desire as he looked up at you and asked, “Can you also be just for me?”

You gasped, feeling your body react to the slightest of touches from him. His question made your heart stutter. He didn’t go any further, waiting for your response.

“Is that what you want?” you asked, balancing on the precipice of vulnerability.

Clay held your face in his hands, his gaze filled with longing as he said, “More than anything, Cherry.”

The conviction in his voice nearly knocked all of the breath out of your lungs. Your mind wandered back to the feeling you’d gotten when you’d read the note he’d left you at the club. ‘Your pretty boy’, he had written. You’d dwelled on those three words everyday since, realizing that the thought of being his and him being yours didn’t sound so awful. You’d never thought that kind of relationship was something you were capable of but, gazing up at him now, you were starting to believe it could be.

You couldn’t find the words to say, to tell him that maybe you wanted all of the same things he wanted. Instead, you pressed your lips against his to seal the deal. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling his face closer to yours as you kissed him desperately. It was raw and heated and needy. You needed him. You wanted to be his completely.

Clay responded to the urgency, his large hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulled you into him. His kiss was explosive, filled with raw passion and devotion as his tongue tasted yours.

He pulled back, slightly, his eyes locked on yours as he gave you a small smile. His hands wandered further down until he gripped the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you toward the bed. He gently laid you down, lowering himself onto you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing his lips back down to yours. Clay groaned into the kiss, shifting his hips as you felt his erection press against you. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, joining together in a song of passion.

“I need you,” Clay breathed, pulling back to gaze down at you with desire.

With a grin you rolled the two of you over so that you were the one on top. You straddled his hips, resting your hands against his chest.

“What’s the verdict now, pretty boy?” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of his neck. “Have I convinced you that I’m not just a figment of your imagination…” you nipped at his pulse-point, tracing the vein with your tongue as he groaned. “…or do you need more proof?”

Clay’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he stared at you with hungry eyes, his heart pounding.

“I think…” he swallowed thickly, licking his lips. “I think I could use a little more proof.”

You smirked, moving down to press a kiss to his chest. Your eyes never left his as you asked, “Does that feel real?” Clay’s breath hitched as he nodded. “What about this?” you asked. “Does this feel real?” You swirled your tongue around one of his nipples, letting your teeth gently graze over the peaked bud.

“God, yes,” he choked out, his fists squeezing your skin. “So real…”

“And this?” You whispered, kissing him below his bellybutton, caressing your lips just above the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes,” he moaned, his eyebrows drawn together in desperation.

“What about this, pretty boy?” you smirked. “Is this real?”

You leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss against his clothed erection, letting him feel the warmth of your mouth.

“Fuck, Cherry,” he cried out, bucking his hips up involuntarily.

You traced your finger along the length of him, gently messaging the place where a wet spot had already begun forming.

“Want me to touch you, pretty boy?”

“Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with need as he nodded his head.

Your toes curled at the sound of his desperation. You dipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them off of his legs, freeing his throbbing erection.

Your lips parted as you took in the sight of his thick shaft with a bright red aching tip. You’d known he was big from feeling him pressed against you, but seeing it was another thing entirely.

You ran your hands up his thighs and cooed, “So fucking pretty.”

Clay let out a shaky breath, his cock twitching at the praise.

You let your fingers graze over him in a teasing manner before wrapping your hand around his shaft. You gave him a gentle squeeze, causing him to gasp and lift his hips off of the mattress.

The moment you began to slowly stroke him he let out a low moan, his eyes rolling back. His breaths came out in ragged pants, the muscles in his neck tensing with restraint.

“Fuck,” he breathed, arching into your touch. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

His hips jerked as you stroked him faster, pulling another moan from his lips. His eyes widened and he grabbed your hand, pulling it away from him. He tried to catch his breath, a light blush creeping up his neck.

“You’re a little too good at that, Cherry,” he laughed, breathlessly. “I’m not gonna let this be over that quickly.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the thought that you had gotten him so close with just a few strokes, giggling at the playful roll of his eyes.

He moved his hands into your hair, pulling you back up to kiss him again. His lips moved against yours with determination, knowing exactly what he wanted. His fingers trailed up and down your spine before he reached around and unclasped your bra.

He pulled it off of you and tossed it to the side, unabashedly admiring you as he groaned in appreciation.

His eyes stayed locked on your chest as he rubbed his hands up your sides and whispered, “God, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

In one swift motion, he turned the two of you back over. He hovered over you, gazing down into your eyes with admiration. He lowered his head, kissing you softly.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered, kissing down your neck. His fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, slowly moving higher.

You gasped, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you tilted your head back to give him better access. You were pretty sure your lacy bottoms had been completely soaked through at this point.

You couldn’t help but whine when Clay’s hand skipped over your need and moved further up your side. He chuckled against your neck, kissing further down toward your chest.

Clay lifted up his head to watch you as he traced teasing circles across your nipple, grinning as it tightened under his touch. He flicked his thumb over it, gently tugging on it. His eyes sparkled as you gasped, arching into his touch.

He leaned his head back down, letting his lips graze against your ear as he asked, “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, writhing beneath him. “Please, keep touching me.”

“Is this where you want me to keep touching you?” Clay asked, a knowing glint in his eyes as he kept teasing you.

“No,” you whined, biting down on your lip. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was driving you crazy. “Just go…lower.”

“Mm, lower?” Clay grinned, cocking his brow. He trailed his fingers down your stomach, reaching between your legs to softly caress you. “Right here?”

“Yes, right there,” you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders.

Clay hooked his fingers into the sides of the bottoms, pulling them off as he sat up to look at you. His eyelids fluttered as he pushed your legs apart, gently rubbing your thighs.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping your legs around him before leaning back down to kiss you.

You whimpered against his lips as his fingers teased your swollen clit, rubbing small circles against it. His thumb continued to toy with it as he pushed one finger inside of you. He groaned into your mouth, lifting his head up to look at you as he panted.

“God, you’re so wet, baby,” he breathed, adding another finger. “You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around me.”

You arched off of the bed as he curled his fingers, brushing them against that perfect spot inside of you. He leaned his head down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, flicking his tongue against it.

“Fuck,” you moaned, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. “I’m so close.”

Clay’s eyes snapped back up to you and he released your nipple with a pop, a trail of saliva still connecting it to his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “Come all over my fingers.”

Your eyes rolled back as you felt the wave of pleasure washing over you, crying out as he worked you through the high.

With a satisfied grin he pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips to suck them clean. He closed his eyes, groaning softly at the taste.

The sight of that alone had you worked back up in an instant. You grabbed his face, bringing his mouth back down to yours as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“I want you,” you breathed, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. You kept your eyes locked on his as you said, “I want all of you.”

Clay’s gaze softened, his eyes swimming with emotion as he whispered, “You’ve already got it.”

He rested his forehead against yours as he slowly pushed into you. Both of you let out strangled moans as his hips landed flesh against yours, the size of him stretching you out. He held your gaze as he let you adjust to him before slowly starting to move.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, burying your hands in his hair as he picked up speed. Each thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of him becoming completely addictive.

“You feel so good around me, Cherry,” he panted, rolling his hips into yours. “I could stay buried inside of you forever.”

You moaned at his words, gasping as he lifted your hips to push deeper inside of you. The new angle made you see stars, feeling him in places you’d never felt anything before. Your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed out, “Clay.”

Clay froze, halting his movements. His chest heaved with rapid breaths as he stared down at you, his eyes growing darker.

You’d just said his name — his real name — for the first time. It had rolled off your tongue so naturally, like it had always been yours to say.

“Say it again,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “Say my name again.”

He slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, before thrusting back into you sharply.

“Clay,” you gasped, tugging on his hair.

He repeated the movement and groaned, “Again.”

“Clay,” you moaned, crying out as he picked up speed again. Your nails scratched down his back as he thrust into you with a new fervor. “Clay, fuck.”

“That’s it, baby, keep going,” he prompted, snapping his hips up into yours repeatedly. “Let the whole world know who’s making you feel like this.”

Your senses were honed in on him, blocking everything else out. Every thought, every worry, every doubt was all replaced by him and how he was making you feel.

“Clay, I…I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, feeling your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

“Come with me, Cherry,” he breathed, locking eyes with you. “Let’s finish this dance together.”

It didn’t take much more for that band to snap again, sending you soaring over the edge as you came around him. You cried out his name, clinging to him as he made you see galaxies. He quickly followed, burying his face into your neck as he groaned. You rode each other out, drinking in every last ounce of pleasure before he collapsed on top of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lifting his head as he grinned up at you. “That was incredible. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

You gazed up at him and lifted a trembling hand to run your fingers through his hair, unsticking it from his forehead.

“I’ve never experienced anything like you,” you whispered, unable to hide your emotions like you’re used to. “You’re something special, Clay.”

Clay’s eyes softened as he rested his forehead against yours. He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, placing a sweet kiss against your lips.

“You have no clue just how special you are, baby,” he murmured, softly.

You hummed, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through you as a smile tugged on your lips.

Baby.

“Call me that again,” you whispered. “It sounds nice when you say it.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, a wide grin lighting up his face. “Alright, baby.”

Your breath hitched as he kissed across your jaw, letting his lips hover by your ear as he whispered, “Baby.”

You could feel him stiffening again where he was still connected to your body. He brought his hand up to tease your nipple again, eliciting a soft whimper from you as he kissed down your neck.

“What are you doing?” you breathed, your mind already going fuzzy.

“What do you think I’m doing, baby?” he smirked, kissing your lips as he began to rock against you again.

You both fell into a fit of moans and gasps as you clung to each other, chasing that mutual release for a second time. Succumbing to the passion and pleasure, your desires crescendoed with a cry sweeter than any song.

Your legs trembled as you came down again, breathing heavily. Your body felt like jello, but you couldn’t find anything to complain about.

“Was it your goal to make sure I wouldn’t be able to get out of this bed?” you grinned, sighing contentedly as Clay rolled over and pulled you into his chest.

“You caught me, Cherry,” Clay chuckled, rubbing soothing circles along your waist. “It was my plan all along to keep you here forever.”

You knew that things had changed. The dynamic you shared had been irreparably altered. Yet, it didn’t scare you as much as it should. Lying here in his arms felt so…right. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. For once in your life, you felt at peace.

“Tell me a story,” you whispered, tracing patterns against his chest with your fingertips. “Tell me one about you.”

A gentle smile settled onto Clay’s face as he said, “Well, this might sound silly, but I used to race remote control cars with my grandfather…”

He dove into tales of his childhood, painting a picture for you of the boy he was. You listened intently, hanging on to every word as he filled your heart with light. You listened to him for over an hour, never once growing bored. You found yourself wanting to know every little detail about him, even if you weren’t ready to share your own yet.

The two of you laid there as the night grew dark, basking in the haven of your new bubble away from the world. It was these moments that made the risk worth it — the calm before the inevitable storm.

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