#clayton beresford imagine

[bloatedandalone04]

The Night has Just Begun

➪the one where you and hayden make a sex tape.

Warnings: sex tape obvi, smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m receiving), swearing, think that might be it..

Word Count: 3.2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The way Hayden looks with short hair never fails to drive you crazy. 

He had just finished filming Vanishing on 7th Street, and you would’ve been upset about his character’s end in that movie if he didn’t look so damn good in it. He had cut his hair short for this movie, and he got to act like a dick for most of it, and the contrast of that to his usual kind and friendly behavior had you going a bit feral. 

In celebration of the film being completed, he suggested a night at a nice hotel before going back to your house and settling back down after the chaos that occurs on set during the process of making a movie. You agreed, of course, then presented the idea of perhaps filming some behind the scenes stuff at the hotel, and he was all on board. 

Hayden was sitting at the bottom of the bed when you entered the room, and you looked to the right to see the camera and smirked a bit as you closed and locked the door behind you. 

His jacket was tossed onto the chair in the corner of the room, leaving him in just a white tee and jeans, and the simple yet extremely attractive outfit had you biting down on your lip as you paused a few feet away from him. 

You knew you were in frame now, and Hayden knew it, too, as he gave you a small smirk and beckoned you over to him, “Come here,” he softly demanded, but you just stood still with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you began to shrug off your jacket. “Come here, baby.” He tried again, and you gave in.

Walking over to him, you were a few feet away when he wrapped one hand around the back of your thigh as his other one gently grabbed your wrist and halted your action of ridding yourself of your jacket. 

“That’s my job,” he murmured as he pulled you to stand in between his legs and dropped your wrist in order to push the fabric from your shoulders. 

Heat takes over your entire body as you slide your hands up his arms as his slide down the backs of your thighs. “Oh, right,” you say as he leans down to begin placing kisses down the front of your shirt. “I was getting ahead of myself.”

Hayden hummed as he grinned up at you before sliding his hands further down to press against the backs of your knees, making you fall forward a bit. You settle on his lap as a blush takes over your face, and you hide your head in the crevice of his neck. “What?” He laughed quietly. “Why are you hiding?”

You huff and lift your head again, glancing off to the right and looking into the camera lens before returning your gaze to him. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” You confessed, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you shifted on top of him. “I’m nervous.”

“It’s okay,” Hayden nodded in understanding as he leaned in and placed an open mouthed kiss to the base of your throat before looking at the camera as well. “Me too.”

He sure as fuck didn’t look nervous to do this. He looked ready, prepared to get you off in all the ways he’s done before, but this time on film. 

“We don’t have to,” he said quietly. “I can turn it off-”

“I want to do this,” you mumble and bite down on your lip. “But what if someone sees it?”

Hayden smirked a bit, “Well, then they’re in for quite the show,” he teased then softened his gaze as he grabbed your hips. “I promise, no one other than you and I will see it. It’s just for us. It’s just us.”

That was really all the reassurance you needed to forget about the camera and instead focus on the achingly beautiful man beneath you. “Just us,” you say back and close your eyes as he leaned in and kissed along your neck. 

His hands grip your waist tightly as he moves your body so you’re straddling his right thigh. “Just us. I’m not letting anyone else see you like this,” he promised. “It’s all for me. Now ride my thigh.”

Your eyes open at that, and you nearly moan at the look he was giving you. “Okay,” you easily give in as you slowly start to rub your core against his thigh. You actually moan as he bends his leg more and gives you a firmer surface to grind on. “Hayden.”

His hands help guide your movements, and you slowly build up the pace as your fingers tangle in the hair on the back of his neck. “Does it feel good?” He asked, but you both knew he was well aware of the answer to that question. 

Still, you’d always give in to him. “Yes,” you whimpered as he took full control of the way your body moved on top of his. The fabric of his jeans was rough and created the perfect feeling against your core, making you whimper softly. “It feels so good, Hayden.”

He smiled lovingly up at you, still finding the dirtiest act romantic and intimate in the best way possible. Hayden leaned in and pressed his mouth to your neck and shoulders, kissing and sucking on your soft skin as you worked yourself against his thigh. 

“More,” you feebly whined as you helplessly clenched around nothing. “I need more, Hayden.”

He hushed you with his mouth, his lips meeting yours in a deep kiss. “I know,” he rasped, kissing his way up your jaw until he found the skin under your ear. “I know, baby, you’ll get more. We’ve only just started, you’re going to get so much more after you get yourself off on me.”

His words were filthy and only for you as he kept this side of himself very well hidden to everyone else. You weren’t even registering the camera capturing your sinful actions as you rubbed yourself harder against him, your hands grasping for anything to hold onto as he guided your movements. 

The stimulation on your clit was making your eyesight blur slightly, and your release was creeping closer and closer with each drag of your hips. Hayden never failed to get you off easily the first time around, when the night was just beginning, and it really didn’t take much. 

Just the fact that the man who is gripping your body so tightly right now and working you into a whiney mess for him is all yours was enough to have your body jerking as you come on his thigh and bury your face against his neck. 

Hayden releases your hips in order to let you ride out your high in much slower movements, and when you lift your head again with a lazy smile painted on your lips, he was powerless to stop his own from forming. “Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded and pressed a final, deep kiss to his lips before getting up and grabbing the camera with shaky hands. 

“My turn,” you grin as you hand it to him and sink to your knees between his legs. You run your hands up his thighs before popping open the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. Hayden lifted his hips and allowed you to push the fabric down his legs before sitting back down and pointing the camera at you. 

Despite your current position on your knees in front of him, you give him a shy smile then kiss him through his tight boxer briefs. His breath hitched in his throat as you licked a damp spot along his length before tugging that material down, too, and tossing it aside without a care. 

Then you were taking him into your mouth and sucking him expertly. You started off slowly, then increased the pace with each bob of your head, and suddenly Hayden was having a very hard time keeping the camera still, despite him holding one countless times now. 

This was probably the dirtiest thing he had ever done. He liked to have you all to himself like this, and while he loved to show you off at premieres or date nights, this was completely new to him. 

While he’s been on camera for all of his career, you hadn’t, so to see you right now through the LCD screen felt surreal and filthy and unlike anything he’s ever felt. “Look at you,” he grunted as you took him deeper than before and encouraged him to grab your hair with his free hand. “You look so pretty like this.”

You blush and use one of your hands to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Your other hand tightly grips his thigh as a form of stability as you let his girth destroy the back of your throat. 

Hayden cursed under his breath as he adjusted the camera and leaned back. “You should’ve been an actress, baby,” he mumbled as his hand pulled on your hair and made your head lift a bit to show off his spit covered dick. “The camera loves you.”

You blush more and roll your eyes as you remove him from your mouth and stroke him quickly. “Not nearly as much as it loves you,” you mutter and poke your tongue out to lick his throbbing tip.

He moaned and released your hair so he could softly caress your jaw. “I don’t know, sweet girl,” he grunted. “You’re looking pretty good from my perspective.”

You smile and kiss up the side of his length. “You’re only saying that because you want me to be in a movie with you,”

That was true. He’d been begging you for years now to play a part in one of the movies he and his brother worked on, but you always give him the same response of ‘the camera not being your friend and making you look terrible’ which was total bullshit since he is seeing how perfect you look on camera right now. 

“This is definitely not helping with that. If only you could see how fucking pretty you look right now,” he groaned as you swiped your thumb along his tip. You repeated that action with every stroke of your hand, and sped up the pace when you saw his hips jerk. “I’m gonna come.” He warned and gently stilled your movements by wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

“Good, I want you to,” you say and move your face closer to his wet and pulsing cock. “On my tongue.”

That sounded nothing short of amazing, but he is really worked up at the moment and wasn’t sure how long he would last later if he were to come right now. “But I want to come in you,”

You whine as he pulls you to stand up and away from his spit coated dick. Leaning down, you kiss him deeply as his hand runs up your back, taking your shirt with him before pulling your body closer to his. Straddling his lap again, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as  he holds you against his chest and sets the camera aside in order to flip you over so you’re on your back. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you lean your head back as he peppers kisses all along your neck and shoulders before tugging your shirt off and dropping it onto the floor beside the bed. He then snaked his hands behind you and fumbled around with the clasp of your bra, and you looked over to see that the lens was pointed at you. Before you could grab it, Hayden tore the lacy fabric away from your body and picked up the camera. 

You blush deeply as you were almost completely exposed on film now, but you didn’t have time to feel self conscious as Hayden grunts, “Look how pretty you are,” it was more to himself, but since it was just the two of you in the quiet room, you heard him clear as day. “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

“Hayden,” you whimper softly and reach over to trail your hand up his bare thigh. “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

He smirks at you as he sets the camera down further up the bed so both you and him are in frame. “I will,” he promised as he kissed down your bare chest before he reached the top of your leggings. He pulled them down, as well as your panties, as he added, “Just had to compliment my girl first.”

You blush even more as he tugs his shirt off and drops it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor.  “Such a gentleman,” you say back then moan when he leaned down to kiss your neck as he ran his tip along your folds.  “Oh, God, I need you.”

He grinned at you before sinking into your warm and inviting core. Your previous orgasm made it very easy for him to bottom out completely after just two thrusts, and the relieved moans that left both yours and Hayden’s mouths sounded like something straight out of a porno. They kind of were, given the current circumstances. 

Your body was on fire and your whines got louder with each drag of his hips, you could barely think straight as you reached behind you to grab the camera with numb fingers. To have such a private and intimate moment be filmed felt dirty and sinful, but it also felt exciting and hot and you both knew that no one else would ever see it, so why hold back?

Not used to holding a camera, and definitely not used to filming something while being railed, you weren’t sure how well you were capturing the whole scene. You could barely see through the LCD screen as you pointed it downwards and filmed his slick-covered cock as it disappeared inside of you. 

Then you angle it upwards and capture just how beautiful Hayden looked like this. His brows were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open as deep groans left his lips, and when he glanced up and saw that you were filming him, he gave the camera a smug smile that nearly had you dropping it. “Fuck,” you whimper as you wrap your legs tightly around his waist and kept the camera on his face. “You’re so hot, Hayden, fuck, you can’t look at me like that.”

He laughed, and it sounded more deep than usual, and that really did not help your case as it had you clenching tightly around him. Hayden could barely pull out as you were impossibly tight, but it just made the pleasure you were both feeling intensify. 

“I always look at you like this,” he managed to mutter, and you just shake your head as you reach up with your free hand and grab onto his hair.

Each thrust had your body inching further up the bed, and you had to tighten your hold on him to keep his body connected to yours. “Tell me you’re mine,” you requested in a breathless tone. 

Hayden was fucking you so hard, you barely had any control over your words right now. It was clear that he was also losing himself in you as he lifted his head and smirked down at you. “You feeling possessive, baby?” He teased. “Do you really think someone else will get to see me like this? Get to have me like this?” 

His words send heat waves through you, and you arch your back as you set the camera aside in order to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No,” you answer in a whisper. “No, but I want to hear you say that you’re mine…all mine.”

The camera was still capturing everything as Hayden pressed a searing kiss to your lips and braced himself on his elbows at either side of your head. “I’m yours, baby,” he promised, kissing you again afterwards. “All fucking yours.”

You moan loudly as he pulls away and sits back on his knees. He grabs the camera and resumes fucking into you, but this time he’s the one filming it. One hand grips your hip as the other holds the camera above your body, and his point of view allowed nearly the entire thing to be captured. 

You were so worked up, you weren’t even paying attention to it as you stared down at where you connected. “Fuck,” you whimpered when the thumb of the hand that was on your waist moved to rub harsh circles onto your swollen and throbbing clit. “I’m going to come again.” 

Hayden hummed as he kept the camera focused on himself sliding in and out of you while he looked above it, his dark eyes narrowed at your fucked out expression. “I want you to,”

You shake your head, “I don’t want to yet,” you whine, making him laugh quietly. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Hayden tilts the camera up towards your face. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” he cooed, holding off his own release. He’s shamelessly been close since the second you started going down on him, so he wasn’t going to last much longer either. “We can make another one. Fuck...we can make as many videos as you want, but right now I need you to come for me.”

You moan softly then arch your back as your second orgasm washes over you and makes you see black spots for a few seconds. You blindly reach for his hand and tangle your fingers with his as he fucks you through your high, and the extra warmth and wetness triggers his own. Deep grunts left his mouth as he slowly fucked you through his own high, knowing how sensitive you had to be at this point and not wanting to overstimulate you too much.

He had to grip onto the camera tightly so he didn’t drop it, and he focused back down at your dripping core as he slowly pulled out. You were shaking as he gently pulled his hand from yours and fucked his release back into you with his fingers, quiet groans escaping his throat at the way your walls eagerly took his seed. 

Tossing the camera aside, Hayden leans back down and hovers over you again as he presses kiss after kiss to your puffy lips, and you moan softly as you wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured and trailed kisses all over your face. 

You laugh and glance over at the still rolling camera with tired eyes. “I can’t wait to watch that as our foreplay for next time,”

Hayden hummed in disapproval as he shook his head and turned it off, setting it on the nightstand afterwards and pulling you into his arms. “I can’t do that, I’ll come before I even get to touch you,” he said and you could tell he was serious, even with the hint of humor in his voice. 

“Okay, maybe we’ll just watch me riding your thigh and me sucking you off before acting out the good stuff that comes after it,” you offer and he nods with a lazy smile on his lips. 

“I love you,” he mumbles and guides your bodies further up the bed so you’re laying on the pillows. 

“I love you, too,” you say back as you rest your head against his sweaty chest, a flicker of excitement in your eyes as you glance over at the camera. This definitely wouldn’t be the only video you and he make together.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen gif #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader #happy valentine's day #clayton beresford imagine #clayton beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #clayton beresford #smut #anakin smut

[fuckmyskywalker]

❄️ 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡 : 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 - 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝.

— CW: 18+, smut. DDLG undertones. Daddy kink. Age gap. Oral sex (f). | word count: 0.9k (not proofread)

— a/n: I realized I don't write much DDLG despite liking it a lot.

— Anyafest 2023 + Taglist!

“Look,” You point at the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. “Do you know what that means, Daddy?”

Clayton laughs, stepping forward and placing his hands on your hips. “I do, princess,” He raises his eyes to look at the mistletoe, shaking his head amused by your cuteness. “That's why you asked me to come upstairs?” 

You nod, reaching behind you to open the door of your bedroom. “Where’s my kiss?” There’s a very kissable pout on your lips and he is nothing more than a weak man. Clay is a helpless man when it comes to you, there is little he wouldn’t do for you— and of course, he wouldn’t deny you a kiss. Yanking the little fake mistletoe from the ceiling, he drags it by the white string while his lips attach to yours, pushing you backward until the back of your knees hits the edge of the bed. 

“If you wanted a kiss you could’ve just asked for it,” He says between kisses, dangling the string in front of your face. 

“I know, Daddy. But isn’t it cute?” No, he doesn’t think a very invasive ‘Christmas tradition’ is cute. He thinks you are cute. His little girl is dangerously close to being confused by his daughter. His precious doll who is willing to do his every word and lay all her trust in him. That’s cute. Lovely. Damn desirable too. 

He agrees anyway, he isn’t going to ruin your mood. “It is, princess.” Clay kisses down your neck, hooking a finger underneath the wide strap of your nightdress and lowering one cup, immediately assaulting your exposed breast with his tongue. He adores how responsive and sensitive your tits are, he could suck ‘em for hours. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I have to kiss you beneath the mistletoe, right?”

Breathless, you nod in response. You attempt to lift your legs to wrap them around his hips but Clay stops you. “Daddy?” You ask, confused. 

Instead of giving you an explanation, he picks up the white string again. Raising the little green knot on top of your lower body. “So if I put it on top of here, what does that mean?” You instantly pick up what he means. Clay laughs at your expression, swinging the mistletoe in the air with a devious grin. His cock throbs inside his expensive slacks, he can’t fucking stand how precious you are. “I don’t want to risk my good luck for the next year if I refuse such a proposal.”

Throwing the fresh little plant away, he can’t wait to devour you whole. Settling between your legs, he rides the long skirts of your red dress, spreading your thighs with his big hands. Something about his touch is always both reassuring and exhilarating. You can’t deny Clayton is far more experienced than you are and maybe that’s what dragged you into his life in the first place. The sweet yet dominating presence he has when he enters the room, laced with that gentlemanly aura that— maybe— money can buy. He licks the center of your panties, humming at the growing wetness that only a little bit of foreplay can cause in you. He also fucking adores that, how easy is to rail you up. 

Pressing his nose against your mound, he inhales softly, melting at the natural scent that belongs to you, so raw and delicious, somewhat mixed with those pricey perfumes he lavishes you with. Clay’s little princess isn’t going to spend a single day without being spoiled, either by his wallet or his tongue. It’s almost like an unspoken rule. 

Soon your underwear is discarded, probably landing next to the mistletoe at the corner of the room, so he can now freely spread your folds with his thumbs. He admires how your hole clenches around nothing, begging for attention just the way he likes. Granting you with that wish, his tongue flicks over your clit, teasing you before he coats his middle finger with your slick, circling your pussy maliciously. “Daddy—” You whine, desperate for more. Is that easy.

“Calm down, princess,” He says, his hot breath hitting your clit making you squirm. “Let Daddy have his fun,” He kisses your clit, promptly fulfilling the stupid Christmas tradition you thought would be a fun way to end the day. Sliding a finger, Clay is received with barely any resistance, sucking harder on your swollen bud. Your gummy, warm walls clench his finger, almost struggling to keep him close, but he knows you squeeze his cock harder than that— maybe because it’s way bigger and thicker than a single finger. It doesn’t take him long to add a second finger, spreading you further. For good measure, he pulls back and gathers spit in his mouth, smirking when the thick globe lands on your pussy, pushing it inside you with his fingers. Daddy likes it sloppy, Daddy likes it rough. Daddy likes it more when you scream his name. 

It’s your turn to grant him that gift, arching your back and panting while you fist the sheets, careful to not touch his hair. Daddy still has things to do, he always has things to do. But right now his job is helping you come undone on his fingers, on his mouth. 

“Go on, princess. Don’t you want to be Daddy’s good girl? Maybe Santa will bring you something big and long for Christmas this year.”

— ❄️ Taglist! : @darthgloris | @offthethirlwall | @pockcock | @shellxrls | @anisdoll | @wifeofasith | @anakinsgirlfriendreal | @anisgurll | @mortalheartache | @arzua10 | @haydensgirlaela | @bimbo-baggins86 | @https-luvaviva | @sorryigotlipglossontheblunt | @bunnylovesani | @glazelilies | @slvttedoutmars

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anyafest 2023! #clayton beresford x y/n #clay beresford smut #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford #clay beresford x reader smut #clayton beresford x reader smut #clay beresford #awake 2007

[bunnie-online]

Hi! Can you write a request for Clay Beresford with some soft fluffy morning love making. Thanx!

It’s totally fine if you don’t want to!

AHHH I WAS HOPING FOR A CLAY REQUEST 🤭🤭🤭

i was inspired by this video <3

warnings: fem!reader, unprotected p in v (stay safe pls) creampie, fluff fluff fluffy! established relationship.

you outstretched your arm to reach for your fiancé, the one and only Clay Beresford. to your disappointment, the right side of the bed was completely empty. you open your eyes to find that you were alone in your shared bedroom. Clay was always a morning person, so this shouldn’t surprise you but you’d like to cuddle him in the morning once and a while.

you sit up and rub your sleepy eyes. you decided to drag yourself out of bed and splash some water on your face to aid in waking you up. to your surprise you find your very handsome soon-to-be husband in the bath. he’s more of a shower person, but you weren’t complaining at the sight.

“good morning, my blossom.” he smiles at you. “morning” you yawn back, cheeks tinting slightly at the nickname. “c’mere baby.” he gestures towards you. you, forgetting what you came in here for in the first place, walk over to him and sit in the edge of the tub. “hi, pretty thing. how’d you sleep?” his hand comes up to softly stroke your cheek, fingers slightly wet from the bath water. “i slept well. did you?” you match his actions, gently rubbing your thumb against his soft face. ‘he’s so beautiful.’ you thought.

“i did too, had dreams about you.” he smirks, leaning forward and kissing the arm that’s keeping you from falling into the tub. “oh, yeah?” you laugh. he continues kissing up your arm, making his way to your lips, hypnotizing you into leaning down further. “dreams about you joining me in the bath, getting soaking wet, taking care of you.” he whispers between kisses.

“Clay, don’t you think about it.” you giggle at him. “oh why not? hm?” he’s smiling now, struggling to kiss you back while grinning. you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “Clay!” you exclaim“Clay don’t! i’m in your shirt!” your laughter fills the room. “we have a dryer.” he’s laughing out loud now too.

Clay bests you and you tumble into the water with him. “Clayton!” you scold and slap him gently on his chest. he feigns injury and offense. “oh! i’m wounded!” he continues laughing. you needed revenge now. while he was busy laughing at his victory you decided that it was the perfect time to adjust your position and straddle his lap, you can already feel him getting aroused.

“Blossom, what are yo-.” you cut him off by kissing his neck, he lets out a soft groan. “Baby-.” he tried to speak again “you wanted me in here, how can i resist the temptation of my gorgeous fiancé right in front of me.” you interrupt him.

both of his hands grab your face, making you kiss him back, tongues dancing in harmony, both of you letting out soft moans. you both starting moving your hips, desperate for friction. Clay started removing your (his) shirt. “fuck, you’re so beautiful. every-fucking-thing about you is perfect.” he sits back to eye you up and down, you turn your head shyly. “look at me.” he turns your chin towards him, holding your gaze. “so fucking pretty.” he pulls you in by your face, kissing you again.

you can feel how hard he is now, every little movement you make, he lets out a groan. if you weren’t in the bath you could probably feel a pool of your own arousal. “come on, blossom.” his guides your hips down to align your heat perfectly with his cock. “just like you did last night.” he whispers against your lips.

you take one of your hands and guide him into you, still feeling a little sore from your escapades the previous night. you both moan aloud as he slides into you. “ah, so perfect. just like you were made for me.” he wraps his arms around you, pressing your chest against his. your eyes roll into the back of your head and your jaw drops open. “just relax baby, let me do it.” he moans, you can hear the water sloshing around and splashing out of the tub. his hips slamming into yours. “shhh that’s it baby, let me do it, let me take care of you. ohh good job baby, good good job.” he praises you for taking him so well, you were always so good for him.

“ah! Clay!” you escape his grasp, leaning back so his cock slams against the front of your walls, hitting that perfect spot. your moans echo through the bathroom, due to your insides remembering this exact pounding from last night, you were twice as sensitive.

“i know, baby. i know.” his hands now forming bruises on your hips, tugging you up and down rhythmically like you were his own personal toy. your moans syncing with his movements. “ah! ah! ah! fuckfuckfuck! you’re gonna make me cum soon!” you scream.

“good. cum for me, pretty baby.” he moans, it’s obvious his release nearing soon, his eyes are shut tightly, his nails are digging into your soft skin, his mouth making a relaxed o-shape. almost on command, you started squeezing down onto him in pulses. your hips stuttered and you sprung forward, clinging onto him to ground you as your orgasm ripped through you.

his arms flung around you once again, squeezing you tightly as he released inside of you. his moans coming out louder and higher pitched.

both of your voices eventually subsided into soft gasps, he releases you from his vice grip and pulls himself out of you. you lean back again, giving him a soft, loving smile. “i love you.” both of you blurt out. after shared giggles and lots of kisses, you shakily climb out of the tub, followed by Clay. he wraps you in a towel and carries you bridal style to your bedroom. he places you down softly in bed. “i’m gonna go get myself a towel, okay? after we cuddle for a bit, how about we go to your favorite breakfast spot?” he strokes your face again and you nod sleepily.

‘ahh what a life.’ you thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

oKAY BUT THE NICKNAME BLOSSOM??? CUTE ASF???

i hope this is what you wanted !! <333

~bunnie

#bunnie online! #bunnie? online~! #clay beresford smut #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford #clayton beresford jr #clay beresford x reader smut #smut #smut writing #hayden christensen x reader smut #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen

[nwndrlndn]

14th Street

pairing : clay beresford x gn!reader | wc : 1.9k

summary : After a year together, your time and relationship has come to an end. You cant help but think of what was.

warnings : a little angst, a lot of fluff.

a/n : yes i do name every fic after a song, and this one was from 14th street by rufus wainwright, which is like actually so clay. no smut this time <3

You settle into your seat on the airplane, business class. After a year and a half of hard work at Beresford Capitol, your ticket didn't hurt your pocket but you did feel a sting in your heart. Other people settle in around you, but the window seat next to you that you coveted so bad but was already taken stays empty. Down the mental checklist you go, storing your carry on, finding a movie to watch on the tiny HD tv, getting earbuds from an attendant and you let out a breath. The stranger next to you hasn’t gotten here yet, but economy is already boarding. 

For a moment, your mind drifts and you aimlessly touch the charm bracelet on your wrist. The delicate charms were so small, but each one carefully picked out for you and your fingers hold onto the small c-shaped charm and you let yourself think of him.

“You know you shouldn’t try to stop me from going” You said softly, eyes trained on the ground to avoid your lover’s stare.

“You act like you don't want to stay. I remember just the other day you were saying I needed to find more time to spend with you outside of the office.” Clay looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Or was that just some sort of cruel joke?”

“Well... that was then. This is now. Things have changed.” You say softly, looking back up at him. The chatter of the party guests went on around you both as you talk. It would be a perfect night if you hadn’t just spent the last 4 hours packing and calling your family. 

“You haven't been complaining about staying late at my place the past few weeks. In fact, you're usually the one to suggest it.” Clay looked at you with a smirk. “So what's changed?”

“Maybe the fact that I’m leaving.”

Clay raised an eyebrow and you could see the way his mind started to race. His smirk was gone and he was starting to look confused. “Leaving? Leaving me? Or the company?”

“Both.... And New York.” You said softly, looking away briefly to see if anyone is watching while Clay seems to be a little stunned by this. He's usually one to keep his emotions in check, but it's clear that the thought of losing his secretary, his lover, is really getting to him.

“No. No... No, that can't be right. Tell me you're joking. Please.”

You finished looking around before taking his hand and led him to the lobby of the building and away from the party. It wasn’t like you would miss much anyways, seeing that Clay already talked to everyone he wanted to meet with and most people were on a mission to drink themselves blind.

Clay followed behind you, looking concerned. “Y/N, what's wrong? You're the best secretary I've ever had, the best girlfriend I could dream of. You're the only one who's made it this far... Why would you have to leave now?” He didn’t stop walking until he stood in front of the elevator, waiting for you to press the button.

You looked up at him then pressed the button “I have to go back home, my family needs me over there right now, its important.”

“And I don't need you here in New York? Is this just some silly excuse to get away?” Clay crossed his arms, trying to keep his emotions in check. He had always been so adamant about finding out the truth.

“That’s different, Clay.” 

As you spoke, Clay shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. “How is it different? Aren't we building something great here? Do I mean so little to you that you would just abandon everything we've built?” 

You start to speak and Clay stopped you stubbornly. “No, no, you can't just walk away. You have to stay.”

“My family needs me, right now.” You said softly, almost pleading for him to understand “I cant put myself or what I want over them, even if its my job. Even if its you.”

“This isn't just about you, or about your family. What about me? What about us? I've come to rely on you, I need you. I'm begging you, don't leave me.” He stared deep into your eyes, hoping to change your mind. And you wanted so bad to stay, you did. 

“Its not a choice for me.” You said softly before reaching up and cradling his face in your hands, looking into his eyes, scanning his face to commit it to memory. “I don't want to go but I have to.”

“What do you mean, you have to? Surely there must be some other solution. Maybe I can come with you? I can make it work.” Clay desperately tried to find a solution that doesn't include him losing you. Clay looks back at you, still stunned. He tries to find the right words, something to convince you to stay, but nothing comes out. Instead, he pulls you closer to him, resting his forehead on yours.

He stays like this for a long moment, drinking in your scent and holding you. He doesn't want to let go, as if he's afraid that if he does, you'll disappear.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, muffled by his dress shirt and jacket. “I hope you know that I really do love you. You’ve made my time in New York worth it.”

Clay sighed, still having difficulties coming to terms with the reality of the situation. “I don't regret a single moment I spent with you. You were always there for me when I needed it and I was truly lucky to have had you in my life. I need you to know that. You're my world. I've never felt this way about anyone, and I just wish you were staying. But I understand that your family is important to you. And I won't get in your way.”

You’re pulled out of your reverie by the sound of a crying child and you turn, watching as a mother coos and rocks her child as she walks down the isle. The woman looked tired, and her partner trudged along with their carry ons. You look away when you see them sneak a kiss and you look to the seat next to you, still empty, and let out a sigh, before you take a moment and decide to slide over to the window seat. When the passenger arrived, you could always just move back to your seat.

You felt like half of you was missing, it had been so normal to spend day in and day out with him. The taxi ride over was just as hard as actually leaving Clay’s bed this morning. For the first time in your entire relationship, he wasn't there when you woke up. After how desperate you both were to be together last night, you thought he would be there, but you realize it was selfish to want that.

You watch the crew work in the early morning, moving all over the tarmac as they prepare for the trip. The sky wasn’t fully blue, it was still red and orange from the sunrise and you can feel how big the world is in the moment. How small you and your memories are in the grand scheme of things.

On his way into the office, Clay paused near your desk, eyes scanning the flurry of activity surrounding you. The room hummed with the sound of ringing phones and hushed conversations. Despite the chaos, you had remained composed, gracefully juggling multiple tasks with ease.

Unable to resist the pull or his own instinct, Clay leaned against the edge of the desk, a playful smile forming on his lips. Your eyes flickered up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of warmth and professionalism.

"Busy day, isn't it?" Clay remarked, his voice carrying a touch of admiration.

You responded with a gentle chuckle, glancing at the organized chaos around them. "Yes, it's a pretty eventful day, Mr. Beresford. You have several important meetings scheduled, contracts to review, and a multitude of emails awaiting your attention."

Clay's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Well, I trust in your ability to keep everything running smoothly. After all, I couldn't imagine navigating this corporate maze without your guidance."

Your cheeks flushed ever so slightly, it seemed like the attention flustered you but only you knew of the feelings you had been developing for him. "Thank you, Mr. Beresford. I strive to assist you in any way I can."

Clay's voice turned softer, taking on a more personal tone. "You do more than just assist me, Y/N. Your dedication and loyalty have become an integral part of my success. I couldn't imagine my professional life without you by my side."

You met his words with a warm smile, your eyes reflecting a deep connection built over the years. "And I, too, feel privileged to have the opportunity to support and work alongside you, Mr. Beresford. Your vision and leadership inspire me daily."

Clay's smile widened, his appreciation evident. "Well, let's tackle this day together, shall we? I have complete faith that we'll triumph over any challenges that come our way."

You nodded along. "Absolutely, Mr. Beresford. Together, there's nothing we can't handle."

With that unspoken agreement, Clay straightened himself, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before returning to his desk.

A flight attendant gently calls your name, reminding you to return to your seat. You smile politely and apologize, moving back to your seat. As you do, you can see a tall man in a suit come closer, face hidden from your current angle and the longer you look, the more familiar he looks. Even though he’s in a simple white button down, maroon sweater, and slacks, the outfit was something so familiar, so memorable. You watched as he stored a black briefcase before he started to make his way to his seat next to you, making a poor attempt to hide his face. 

“Clay.” You whisper breathlessly, turning in your seat and hugging him tightly. Clayton wraps his arms around you, grinning from ear to ear.

Clay takes the window seat next to you, looking over at you with an almost hopeful expression on his face. He smiles when he sees that you’re looking at him. “I take it you're surprised to see me? I couldn't let you leave... I had to find a way to be with you.”

“I missed you so much.” You whisper against his neck and he gazes down at you, caressing your cheek softly with his thumb.

“Did you really think I would just let you go like that? Don't you know by now that I'll do anything I can to be with you.”

Clay lifts your head from his shoulder and leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

“You're coming with me?”

Clay looks back at you, nodding in response. “I couldn't just let you leave. It wouldn't be right. If you need me, then I'll always be there for you. So, I'll go wherever you want, whenever you need.” He smiles, gently taking your hands into his own. “Just promise me, that you'll never leave me again. Because I don't know if I can survive a second goodbye.”

You smile, kissing him again. “No more goodbyes. Never again.”

Clay sighs in relief, embracing you tightly. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, smelling you again like it's the most precious thing in the world. “No more goodbyes... I can't wait for us to spend a lifetime together.”

#[ 🍒 ] — my works #[ 💸 ] — clay #clay beresford #clayton beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines

[adoreanakin]

Valentines Day with Clay

#clayton beresford jr #hayden christensen #moodboards ˚₊‧꒰ა #valentines day #valentines day moodboard #anakin skywalker imagine #clay x reader #clay x reader smut #awake 2007

[taylorswiftsfavouritedaughter]

Honestly, if you're stuck in an arranged marriage with clayton, he would definitely act cold towards you and acts like as if you're not even living in his mansion with him.

However, when you snuck out from the mansion to go out with your friends, he would still doesn't notice about it because he has got so much paperworks to do.

When you're finally gone from the mansion, he was trying to get some snacks from the kitchen and when he doesn't find you anywhere, he would go CRAZY.

He would try to call you multiple times, he would even try to track your locations, he would asks the maid, he would ask your parents, friends and he even tries to report to the police station.

Clayton would never admit that he's in love with you in the arranged marriage because he thinks that he would never find his true love. (Let's just say that you're the complete opposite from him).

When he saw that your location's still on, he would get into his car and drives to your location.

Then, he arrived at your location. He saw you talking with your friends at the bar and when you don't wanna go back to the mansion with him, he tries to reassure you and comforts you.

BUT when you still refuse to go with him, he'd pick you up in front of everyone and places you inside his car and he drove away.

Eventually, he apologized for everything and wants to make you feel better and wants to make you feel loved.

So, clayton brings you right up to his bedroom and he "tries" to fuck you gently and softly. (he failed)

#clayton beresford #awake #hayden christensen #clayton beresford imagines #clayton beresford × reader #imagine #i want him #anakin skywalker #clayton beresford × female reader

[neptunerising]

༻✦༺ folklore series

the 1

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WC: **** x fem!reader

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cardigan

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the last great american dynasty

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exile

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my tears ricochet

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mirrorball

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seven

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august

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this is me trying

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illicit affairs

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invisible string

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mad woman

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epiphany

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betty

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peace

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hoax

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the lakes

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#folklore #folklore fanfiction #taylor swift #folklore taylor swift #vinnie hacker #vinniehacker #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker x reader #clay beresford #clayton beresford #clayton beresford x reader #clay beresford fanfiction #clay beresford x reader #vinnie hacker fanfiction #clay beresford imagines

[hedonisthierophant]

Aching abyss

Aching abyss

The doctors proclaimed that he was alive, crowed over their victory, their triumph in snatching his fragile form from the jaws of death and conspiracy. Clay wasn’t so sure that he believed them. Oh he knew intellectually that he lived. His eyes beheld what unfolded before them, he was aware of various scents perfuming the air, he heard the constant drone of life around him, he was able to process the flavors of his food, his body was warm, his lungs filled and emptied themselves of air in a regular fashion, his bones muscles ligaments and tendons obeyed his commands, he felt sensation against his skin, and most importantly, his heart beat. This could be objectively verified, all he had to do was press a hand against it and feel its steady rhythm. Yet, despite overwhelming empirical evidence to the contrary Clay felt that he had died during the faithful procedure and what the doctors had so pridefully revived was merely an empty shell, a purposeless, empty husk of a man.

Before the operation Clayton had always looked forward to it as the door through which he would step into his new lease on life. Now he looked back on it ruefully as a pyrrhic victory. The result of a twisted covenant with some deity who was spiteful at worst and apathetic at best, they had given him a new life and in exchange taken away Clay’s sense of being alive. Yes his body was here, but was Clay here? That was a more complicated question altogether.

Clay tried first to explain his situation to his physicians, they assured him that these sorts of feelings were par for the course in transplant patients and would pass in time. Clay next set up a meeting with a therapist, discreetly and through a series of intermediaries. He didn’t have the courage to go on any websites or call any numbers for himself. Instead he delegated what he assumed was the more burdensome task to an assistant, he was certain he’d known her name at one point but since the transplant everyone who worked with him seemed to lose their individuality in a sea of faceless underlings, drones whose existence was based around snapping to his soft commands. His sleek black town car pulled up to an equally sleek glass skyscraper. The glass had been tinted green and was interspersed with frames of obsidian. He mumbled the name of his destination to a security guard in the lobby.

He was directed to the 151st floor, some hopeful, grateful voice buried in the back of his mind spoke with an abrasive cheer and reminded him that he’d never have been able to walk up 151 flights of stairs before the operation, maybe he should just to say that he had, after all he had plenty of time before his appointment. A petulant, bitter, far louder voice simpered in return that perhaps he should and his unfeeling misery and run up all 151 flights until his new heart gave out and he ended up in the ground where he belonged. The loudest most omnipresent voice spoke next, it commanded him to simply ride the elevator instead, this voice was the herald the emptiness inside him, a mouth that spoke for the vast abyss where his feelings had once been. He rode the elevator, contemplating whether this parody of life was the price for cheating death? He had been so afraid of the silence and stillness of the grave he’d never considered the idea that they could be draped over him like a burial shroud before he passed away. As he strode down the hall he was steeling himself for some unimaginable and invasive horror. The things his mother would say if she knew that he was seeing shrink. A much younger Clayton had actually mistaken the word “shrink” for a slur such was the venom with which he heard it passed his mother’s lips. He’d used it as a weapon hoping to strike back at a girlhood called him to fragile to play and had been met with laughter that was cruel and worse yet laced with pity.

He entered an upscale reception area suffused with an aura of enforced calm. Diffused light came from a few lamps that had been covered in simple cloths in addition to their shades. Some well concealed noise machine was causing an approximation of the sounds of the surf to bleed through the space, the floor was covered by an enormous, lush, pale green carpet. A portly woman with mousy hair and oversized spectacles handed him the intake forms. He stared at them, his brain lazily processing words like “health conditions, medications, prior diagnoses, history of treatment, presenting issue, drug use, alcohol use, suicide attempts and ideation,” he stared numbly at the forms wondering what the correct pattern of checkboxes was that could possibly communicate what was wrong with him. After several idle minutes the receptionist looked over “don’t worry about it dear many people find it difficult to put in writing, you just have a talk with our provider and she’ll fill one out for you afterwards, it’s no trouble at all.” His mother was laughing at him berating him for his inability to fill out a simple form, his dawdling would make this person’s job that much harder, he was already inconveniencing them and he hadn’t even met them, he was overwhelmed by the feeling that his mirror presence here was a bother.

This entire endeavor was a mistake. For once his body reacted, his pulse hammered, beads of sweat carved frosty path down his brow, he couldn’t get enough oxygen, he was dizzy, his deal with death had only bought him a minor reprieve apparently, he’d come here to discover how to feel alive again and instead he was going to die in this waiting room. Distantly, some part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. The rushing of his blood and the incessant pain in his head brought back memories of the table and what was left of his composure shattered as it was assaulted by those recollections. He heard a faint whirring, it grew louder as though some angry machine were approaching him. His beleaguered mind wandered if perhaps the Grim Reaper rode a scooter? A powerful voice broke through the chaos within him. He was commanded to raise his head, instinctively he did so.

A woman sat in front of him he thought but he couldn’t be sure, his vision swam, threatening to blur into unconsciousness. “Mr. Beresford?” Hearing his father’s name brought a fresh wave of turmoil it felt as though his throat completely closed, in a few moments it was possible that he might be face to face with his father and bare the full brunt of his ridicule for this display of frailty, for the disappointment he caused his father, for the failure of a son that he was. “Clayton?...Clay?” Someone was calling him, it’d be rude not to respond, he couldn’t be rude he would be punished. Reflexively he fought to bring the image before him into focus. He failed, but he was able to force us stammered “Yes?” past his tremulous lips. His effort was immediately rewarded, “Clay I’m Dr Mensah. If you would like I can lead you in a breathing exercise that may provide you with some relief. Would you like me to do that? If not I would like you to know that panic attacks pass and I will stay here with you until this one does.” Her voice was infused with an iron certainty. Clay gave her a weak nod of his head that was almost perceptible amidst his twitching and hyperventilation. She spoke in a calm voice , “I would like you to inhale whilst I count to four, then hold your breath whilst I count to four again then I would like you to exhale whilst I count to four, and hold your breath a second time whilst I count to four final time. We will repeat the process if necessary. She began to count in a determined rhythm. One… Two… Three… Four. As though he was experiencing this from far-flung distant place he was aware of the ritualized pace of his lungs filling, waiting and then emptying. The chaos that gripped him receded ever so slightly. They completed the exercise twice more.

Clay was finally able to open his eyes and properly take in his rescuer. But he had some difficulty parsing the vision that greeted him. Her voice filled his ears again almost hypnotic in its steadiness and placidity. “I imagine that was quite a difficult experience. Would you like to talk about what you are feeling or would you prefer to rest? Perhaps some water? Clay nodded mutely. She turned away from him and the whirring returned, she made her way over to a low table he had noticed before that had the trappings of a miniaturized café. She retrieved a recycled paper cup from a pile and extracted a glistening portion of water from an expensive looking machine. She crossed the space between them accompanied only by the sound of whirring. She offered the cup to Clay. He reached out and nearly splattered it over the both of them. His hands and started to shake just as he may contact with the edge of the cup. He was already prepared with a thousand apologies ready on his tongue, already hearing a lecture from his mother about making a full of himself. But the woman’s grip was steely and sure. The cup hardly moved despite Clay’s embarrassing flailing. Her expression remained unchanged “may I assist you?” Clay’s face was burning with shame that all he could do was nod unwilling to risk another bout of tremors. With one hand she brought the cup to his lips and placed the other at the back of his neck as a sort of support as she tipped the cup up and he drank in the cool liquid. Clay should’ve been humiliated, should’ve been outraged should’ve been indignant. Yes he given his permission but how dare this woman presume to help him in this way as though he were an invalid or worse yet, a child. He was about to make her regret her trespass with some scathing remark but he was consumed by the thought that this woman was the first person to touch him in months since his mother died. He looked down at her and realized for the first time that the source of the whirring had been the wheelchair that she was occupying. “Would you like to accompany me to my office?” All Clay could do was nod, he rose, his limbs being more cooperative than he anticipated. The sound of Clay’s shoes against the carpet was all but inaudible so close to the whir.

  He followed Dr. Mensah into a lushly appointed space. Gently lit by fairy lights with a single enormous couch arrayed against one back wall. Round the space there were several chairs pointed in the general direction of the couch. The wall was painted a pale green broken up by paintings of forests, mountains, and oceans.” Please sit wherever you’d like, or stand if you prefer. Make yourself comfortable.” Clay obediently perched on the edge of the couch fighting the natural instinct let himself sink into it his mother had disapproved horribly of anything that ruined his posture. The woman parks her wheelchair directly across from the couch, and waits. They sit in silence for about a moment before Clay blurts out the first thing on his mind. “I don’t like doctors.” “Perhaps it would be better for you to think of me simply as Beatrice then?” Again the only tool in his repertoire was to nod . “I would like you to tell me about what brings you in today if you feel so inclined, I got a glimpse of the distress you experience but I’d like more information so that I may place it within the proper context.” Years of being and vandalized and thought of week have left Clay with a bit of a sore spot around being anything less than perfect in the view of other people. He makes an effort to straighten his back even further and speaks in the distant tone his mother had employed when dismissing other people’s preposterous ideas as she so often did. “Distress? You must be mistaken ma’am. I’m fine.” He stares at her impassive face. The woman before him is perched in what Clayton assumes is an extremely high-end model of wheelchair looking for all the world as if she were in a throne and questioning an errant peasant. Her body framed by black leather and paint of the same color. Her right leg sits crossed over her left, giving Clay the impression that he is but a subject addressing a monarch, he hasn’t felt that way since his mother died. She is dressed for all the world as though she is one of the many high-stakes powerbrokers that have surrounded Clay’s entire life. Cream colored pants and a cream-colored blazer adorn her form, Clay’s first impression of her would have been that she was distant and inaccessible, unconcerned with those beneath her but this train of thought was derailed by the decidedly more human touches that graced her ensemble. Bangles that would’ve been out of place in Wall Street office, a tribal necklace, nails done to perfection but not merely buffed and coated in clear polish as was the habit of ladies on Wall Street face painted with only the lightest coding of makeup, a subtle red to her lips and black around her eyes.. Her nails glimmered a soft lavender color and several rings adorned her fingers. Her hair was in locks and gathered into a regal looking knot atop her head, secured by a lavender colored cloth. As they stared at each other Clay felt that he was being examined by some class of being several orders of magnitude beyond his comprehension. Finally she spoke, her voice bathed in a quiet authority, “people who are fine do not often experience panic attacks in our waiting room, Clay.” With that simple sentence it’s as though she’s drained all of Clay’s reserves of hostility. She continues, “I would imagine that this was the first time you’ve experienced something like that, perhaps your standard experience is more that of numbness?”

The floodgates open and Clay imparts to her all the apathy that has infused his existence since it was restarted that day on the table. She listens as he describes feeling like a windup doll merely going through a set of preprogrammed motions, acting alive but not feeling it. He describes the profound disconnect between himself and his emotions. The well of nothingness that has consumed him. She listens without interruption and when Clay can no longer think of anything to say they are enshrouded in silence. Clay can’t bear silence, it was quiet times like this that he hated the most before the transplant. When there were no distractions around and he could hear his own heartbeat. He’d made a macabre game of counting the beats wondering how many he had left before he hit zero. The average person’s heart beat 3,195,648,000 during their lifetime Clay had been obsessed with cardiology as a child after learning about the ticking time bomb inside his chest. He been able to recite all sorts of minutia related to the organ and its functioning, of course a particular attention was paid to transplants and the various gruesome fates that could await poor souls who had no choice but to undergo them or worse yet be denied the opportunity to do even that. Clay had always known with certainty of the doomed that he would experience but the smallest fraction of that instead. People were supposed to live to around 80 and yet it was a miracle that he made it to 22.

Clay imparts all this to Beatrice in the same unfeeling monotone because the crushing silence summons the screaming voice of his mother commanding him to take control of the situation, do something say something, be the performer that she had raised and not the useless lout. It is with a serene tone that Beatrice tells him that all his feelings are be expected from someone who’d been living on borrowed time, with one parent absent in the other abusive, suffered a near-death experience brought on by betrayal, followed by the trauma of a string of losses. Her words were cloaked in validation and understanding, enshrouded in a sincere seeming empathy. Hearing her speak made Clay want to cry but he knew he would be unable to. The session lit a tiny spark of feeling within him for the first time since his rebirth. Clay instantly became an addict, he booked a session next week and mustering what dignity he could left the office bed goodbye to the receptionist and descended back to the mass of scurrying mortals living their lives far below the glittering towers that had made up Clay’s. His town car was waiting at the entrance to the building, piloted to perfection by Mercy. Mercy was his chauffeur, assistant, bodyguard, confidant, and the closest thing he had left to a friend. She wore a simple black chauffeur’s uniform and, her face bare of any makeup, red hair concealed. Since his death he found it hard to trust people, to let them near him either emotionally or physically. Mercy had impeccable references, a degree in management from Harvard. She was proficient in three forms of martial arts and possessed a frightening level of accuracy when wielding firearms. She was the only one allowed anywhere near Clayton, any requests from his father’s company all were filtered through her, she ran his calendar, made all the arrangements for every facet of his day, and so shepherded him through his life. These two women were the light houses in Clayton’s so-called life. Mercy roused him each day, presented him with decisions that needed to be made, drove him aimlessly through the city, provided his meals, kept up with his medication, she was an almost invisible, almost silent, benevolent guardian. Beatrice in their weekly sessions helped Clayton begin to assess the level of damage that had been done to him long before you died. She helped to foster that flicker of life within him. Until he confronted her with a dilemma that he was certain would cause her to leave him.

Clayton tried his best to bask in the pleasures of life, to rekindle the flame of actually living life. The finest food tasted like bitter ash, and had to be forced down his throat. He walked the galleries and viewed great works of art, pieces that had once stirred his soul. Before he died he could’ve stared at those paintings for hours and been absolutely captivated, now they did no more for him than a child’s fumbling scribble. He visited the Opera and bought expensive equipment with which to listen to his favorite music, everything sounded as though he were hearing it from underwater, dull, distant, and boring. Films that he loved as a child played before him on the vast expanse of his home theater screen, he couldn’t bring himself to connect with a single scene, to feel anything whatsoever. This is where Clayton ran into trouble, he was forbidden from doing anything strenuous, for anyone else that might be fine. However, when you lived in the condition that Clay did nearly any activity that could bring the faintest spark of enjoyment was considered strenuous. No more gentle laps in the pool, no more mild jogs in the park, no more calm morning workouts, anything like skiing or basketball was completely out of the question. So yes, Clayton lived but he wasn’t alive. He took his questions to the Internet he figured what he needed was some shot of dopamine or else a blast of adrenaline but every activity suggested by the thrill junkies in their wild and free death-defying corners of cyberspace was well beyond Clay’s current ability. He was not permitted to travel by plane as the elevation might put stress on his heart, so visions of some faraway location where he could simply bask in the beauty of nature or a new culture would have to remain so. What drove at Clay the deepest however was the physical manifestation of his loneliness, there were days when his limbs failed him and Mercy efficiently helped him dress, her steady hands doing work that his had been ,capable of since he was a mere child. Fastening buttons here, tying laces there. The experience would leave him burning with shame every time despite the fact that he had no pretenses at an invalid such as himself ever being afforded much modesty, let alone dignity. Worse than the shame though was the ache that burrowed deep within him, the lightest touch of her fingers against his flesh soothed the hollow throb within him reducing all-consuming agony to the slightest aching twinge for an exquisite instant. Vicious vultures circled constantly in his mind filling his thoughts with wicked whispers imparting upon him the knowledge that he may as well already be dead, that this wasn’t a life worth living. He laid all of these burdens at Beatrice’s feet, she sent him to a psychiatrist who prescribed first this antidepressant, and then that, the happy pills gave him energy, but no purpose or drive, he was merely a remote control toy whose batteries had been supercharged. He no longer slept until two in the afternoon and the vultures screeching had been reduced to near silence but the absence of that cacophony and the less time he spent in blissful unconsciousness, unburdened by his reality for precious hours he wished he could stretch into eternity, the more he was enveloped in emptiness. When you were always drowning in pain its briefest absence induced an incredible sense of euphoria, there was no pleasurable feeling but the sheer existence of even a single iota of life, of a moment free of agony became a dangerously addictive high, the sort of sheer bliss that all hedonists would trade their souls for. Clay’s realization came through his dreams. The nocturnal adventures that his subconscious conjured for him were often replete with reminders of his suffering. His father’s abuse and death, his mother’s disappointment, Sam’s betrayal and Jack’s complicity, his mother’s death. It was as though his psyche was daring him to find even the single weakest reason to go on, as though some demon, livid that it had been cheated when he escaped death, embarked on a quest to torture Clay night after night, to remind him of all his pain and loss until he saw the price he paid for the cursed gift that was his second chance and chose to reject it, this malignant creature would use his own mind to rake him over the coals, to turn his only sanctuary into a place of torment until he gave in and died, probably by his own hand, then the demon would be satisfied and absconded with his prize back to hell, satisfied in having righted this imbalance of the cosmic scales that had allowed Clay, however transiently to escape his fate.

Having survived the table and experiencing the visions or astral projection or whatever type of hallucination he had during the process had left Clay with at least some ability to command his mind to come to his aid. Like a mantra he hurt himself repeat over and over, “show me something nice, make me feel alive.” Once, twice, thrice, upon the fourth repetition there was a change. It was early morning and the once brilliant light of dawn that would’ve drawn a smile from Clay no matter what his mood had saturated every inch of his apartment. Clay was lounging in his favorite chair, luxuriating in the feel of the plush cushions conforming to his body, Mercy stood over him gently carting her fingers through his hair draining his worries away and causing the slightest flicker to spark in the candle that had come to represent Clay’s joie de vivre…for the first time since his death he awoke hard.

Clay was groggy at first and then conscious of the delicious friction of his cock rubbing against his underwear, the ghosts of dream-Mercy’s hands still gliding over his scalp. He reached down to cup himself astounded at the arousal he felt, it had been so long, since the morning before his death that his body had given him even a phantom help that he might be able to indulge one of his most base urges. He’d miserably resigned himself to subsisting on half memories of his last morning with Sam before he discovered her betrayal, the colors bled from those images and he hated himself. Distantly he wondered if he’d given himself the opportunity to seek other inspiration some thought not tainted with her memory to make him hard if it would’ve worked, but his body was so thoroughly uninterested in the possibility of ever feeling pleasure again right up until this morning. A happy sigh escaped his lips as he teased himself through the fabric of his silk pajama bottoms. In his nascent pleasure his eyes open sleepily and he realized that Mercy was due to enter his room in a matter of minutes to wake him and begin their daily routine. His arm darted out with the speed and urgency he had not felt since that day and he fired off a terse message to her informing her that he intended to sleep in for at least another half an hour. Predictably, Mercy responded with a simple affirmative nearly the instant after his finger pressed the send key.

 Without her Clay was free to bask in the return of at least a fragment of what it felt like to be human. Sure, it was the most primitive and unworthy fragment but it was something. He slid his clothes off with trembling h hands gasping at the feel of smooth fabric rubbing over the most sensitive parts of his body. He shivered and his nipples became rock hard as he was exposed to the chill air. The illicitness of the situation alone was enough to have him leaking, he brought a shaking index finger to slit and sent it on a slow journey back to his mouth. The taste of himself sent a spasm of shocked pleasure through his whole body. He had worried somewhere distant in the far dark reaches of his mind that he forgotten this. But resonance of recollections guided his movements and he moaned in quiet pleasure as his hands trailed up and down his body causing every hair to stand on end. He circled the shaft with his right hand and gave it the gentlest squeeze, a spurt of precum issued from the head and he laughed in boyish delight, delirious in the joy of rediscovering the art of self-love. Clayton spat into his hand and returned it to his twitching cock. Under normal circumstances he’d of turned his nose up at the idea of using saliva as lubricant but desperate times called for desperate measures and he was willing to abandon some of his principles for the chance to make this feel even the slightest bit better. He tweaked one nipple and almost embarrassed himself with the keening sound that it tore from his lips, rather he would be embarrassed if enough of his mind was not submerged in an ocean of want and could muster enough conscious thought to care. He brought his hand up to the other nipple and began playing with them in unison delicious shivers and twitches racing up his spine crossing him to cross and uncrossed his legs curl and uncurl his toes throw his head back and moaned as he wallowed in wildly wanton madness, mesmerized by the long forgotten pleasure he was capable of bringing himself. For the stolen half an hour he wasn’t Clayton Beresford Jr, the poor fragile billionaire, he was Clay, a horny 22-year-old like any other across the world who had the strength to do something about it. Delirious laughter escaped his lips as he began to massage his balls rolling them between his fingers gently tugging on the sensitive skin as it sent breathy gasps and moans up his throat. His head thrashed this way and then that in response to his ministrations his body giving a rapturous response to its own performance. Some faraway part of him was aware of the sweat that was beginning to soak his skin and distantly ever so faintly as though he were listening to the memory of the shadow of an echo from deep beneath the surface of water he heard his heartbeat. Clay let out a joyous little whoop as he brought himself closer and closer to that elusive peak of pleasure that he was chasing. His body on fire from the delicious torture, screaming at him that it wanted this, no that, that if Clay failed on this quest to satisfy himself that his very form would punish his loss by severing the single gossamer thread that allowed him to remain tethered to this mortal plane. Retribution for teasing himself and failing to deliver on the ultimate few instance of pleasure that would silence all the noise in his head and the complaints of his overtaxed body would be death, brutal in its suddenness. He felt as though he was quite literally, jerking off for his life. If he didn’t ascend to the peak of ecstasy the fire would reach his heart and it would stop once and for all and there would be no one to sacrifice themselves this time for the sake of him getting his rocks off. The train of thought made him laugh deliriously, winds and moans escaped his lips as reedy, needy breaths were all his lungs were capable of producing. He felt absolutely soaked with pre-come, a glance downward confirmed that there was so much of it that it spilled over his significant shaft and coded the light dusting of pubic hair and had spread to drip off his hips on both sides. He rutted mindlessly against his own hand for a few minutes more chasing ever ascending bubbles of bliss. His jaw hung open, his hair and body covered in sweat, heat rolling off him as though he were running a fever  yet still he could not reach his peak, his moans turned to sobs of anguish as he pursued a climax that was constantly just out of reach. His muscle contracted, his heart beat like a machine gun, his cock twitched and spasmed, all to no avail. No! No! No! He wanted to scream with every fiber of his being to roar out his anger and sadness at the uncaring gods who cursed him to live this way, tears streaked down his face as he felt the waves of pleasure begin to crash further and further away from him, for the storm that had gotten him this far to subside. Part of his body began to relax, this was for the best he was pushing himself too hard, this was his new normal and he was condemned to adjust to it. Was he to be denied final satisfaction even after all this momentum had been built up? He snarled in rage, no he looked down at himself and saw that his cock had turned a pained shade of purple and was gushing precum with anticipation, he was so close just a few more strokes, just a bit of a tighter grip, and he would come, come like people all over the world did every day and, he would spend a precious few seconds gliding on a cloud of euphoria. He would be alive again. Clays hips jerked and bucked wildly as, his stomach clenched and his toes curled in anticipation of Nirvana. He let out a guttural, wanton moan, half pleading with his body and have commanding it to finish this, to let his live for just a few seconds, to let him feel. Tears streamed down his face as the pleasure turned to pain and his body refused. Clayton’s desperate wail of sorrow was cut off by a sharp pain in his chest. Agony brought him back to himself and through eyes that could see all too clearly he heard an alarm shrieking on his phone and Mercy burst through the door, her fingers keying in 911 and bringing it halfway to her ear before she got a good look at her employer. The shame roasted Clay alive.

 An hour later after a litany of apologies and offers to find her better employment elsewhere and incoherent sobs, he whispered a stuttered explanation of his situation to Beatrice through the phone that Mercy held to his shaking body. His salvation arrived an hour after that. Mercy opened the door to his sprawling penthouse apartment and brought him a simple black blindfold which she affixed for him with customary professionalism. Clayton’s world was reduced to sounds than, he heard the enticing click of high heels on tile as a third person entered his bedroom. “Hello Clayton, I am Madame Olivia, I am a professional intimacy expert, a sexual surrogate, I’ve been informed of your difficulties and asked by Dr. Mensah to lend my talents to provide you with some relief and sense of normalcy. The blindfold was my suggestion as I worried that seeing my face might cause you to feel a sense of shame or unworthiness.” Do I have your consent to proceed?” Clay nods, her voice rings out, gentle yet firm, “Speak when spoken to Clay.” He shudders as a breathless Yes” escapes him. I am going to start out with small but intimate touches and we shall go from there until you give me a safe word.” Clay, what shall be your safeword?” she asked in a tone that spoke in equal measures of clinical competence and indulgent care. With absolute certainty Clay spoke the word “awake.” “And what shall be your return signal if you wish to resume our activities after you’ve used your safeword?” “Starving,” he says with an unfiltered honesty that surprises him.” “Very well.” Her voice is like warm honey, enticing and comforting all at once, but she speaks no more she advances upon him.

Clay has started to drip with anticipation again as he hears the click of her heels signal her approach. Each sharp, sure step a herald of his impending salvation. He whimpers as delicate, elegant fingers encircle his own, he’s only able to stand the rush of emotion and Ron need it comes from the simple pleasure of holding her hand for a pair of minutes before tears prick his eyes and he’s reminded of how pathetic he is before he gasps out his safeword. Instantly the hand is gone from his, as if by magic. If her touch had lit him aflame, her absence had frozen him he’s only able to bear one minute of wintry isolation and a fear of never having this opportunity again before he gasps out the return signal. They spend hours like that in a tortuously slow dance of advance and retreat, her hand moves from his to his forearm to his shoulder to his neck. He can only stand a few minutes of each touch at a time but even sooner he’s calling out for her again. She gently massages his neck and he mewls with pleasure. Only stopping her because he feels as though he could come from this alone. After his retreat is canceled and she moves forward once more her enchanted, soft hands caress his hair and rub gently against his scalp. He’s floating on waves of satisfaction. Eventually her fingers brushed delicately over the blindfold and he imagines that he can feel them running ever so gently over his eyelids themselves. Over the course of another few minutes she makes her way down to his nipples and begins to work them so much more softly than he had, he cries from the pleasure. She trails her hand over his abdominal muscles rubbing gentle circles into the quivering flesh. When he thinks that she’ll at last reaches caulk she takes a detour and skips over entirely and begins rubbing gently at his feet, massaging them with oil, that warm and has him twitching and gasping from the sensation of pleasure it’s causing to run through his body. They have to take five separate breaks before she is able to complete her work with his feet. Satisfied, she runs her hands back up his body and gently encircles his drenched caulk in her hand, his fluids mixed with the oil on her hands and create a divine sliding sensation free of all but the barest trace of friction behind the blindfold his eyes rolled back in his head. It feels so different from when he had done it in that ill advised session earlier, her hand is much smaller and more delicate than his own, the feel it creates is velvety. It smelled different the first time too, his fumbling attempts had filled the room with the smell of sex, sweat, and desperation combined with the odor of sadness. Now his senses are filled with the gentle floral notes of her perfume, some spice that seems to be emanating from the oil she uses, the faintest trace of his own arousal. The sounds are different as well, before they had been wild and desperate now his soft sighs, whimpers, groans, and moans, along with murmured pleas gently collide with the otherwise quiet air around them. She fondles his balls and works his shaft, tweaking and pulling just so. They are however engaged in a delicate balancing act, her mission is to help them achieve orgasm without putting too much strain on his body. It would be easy this would be over in a matter of minutes instead of the hours it’s taken so far if he could handle even the slightest bit of rougher or more frantic treatment. But the flame of pleasure inside him needs to be gently stoked and built up over time so that it does not burn him again. Eventually her hands wander back up and down his body in soothing patterns that he is not quite aware of. She returns and applies a helping of oil here and there massaging his chest tweaking his nipples in a heavenly rhythm and allowing his cock to relax and soften again before making another attempt. The edges of anger and desperation well up inside Clay and he begs her to be just a bit rougher with him let her nails dig into his skin to get this over with so that he no longer has to be spread out and vulnerable before her so that he can get off just like any other god damn young man in the city. She gives no verbal response instead she merely places her hand against his throat and squeezes gently, the most gentle of threats. His mouth goes dry as she massages his Adam’s apple and he murmurs an apology even as he can feel himself spilling a bit of pre-come at this change in dynamic.

There’s one part of his body that she’s avoided so far the garishly ugly scar that came with his new hollow existence. Clay can even bring himself to look upon it in the mirror. Eventually she slowly let her fingers trace it and he gasps as the sensitive scar tissue reacts to attach and waves of pleasure rolled down his body. He wants to stop her he wants to beg her not to do that not to remind him what he is not here in this safe place where it’s just the two of them under Mercy’s watchful eye. In response to his mumbled protests she merely presses harder against scar rubbing soft little circles into it that have him making a high keening sound somewhere between distress and pleasure. Tears fall freely from his eyes and soak the blindfold as he shakes his head vigorously but he cannot bring himself to use the safeword. She must sense that he’s conflicted about this because she redoubles her efforts rubbing it gently and stoking the flame of pleasure that she spent hours coaxing to life and to reaching new heights safely. Clayton can feel himself dripping, that’s not new he’s been absolutely soaked and alternating between rock hard and soft but hypersensitive in this slow burn arousal he’s been feeling for what feels like an eternity now. “Let go,” she commands. Clayton can only desperately shake his head filled with the new fear that if he does come that the fire will burn him again and stop his heart and he’ll die right here right now, he doesn’t like the way he’s living but he doesn’t want to die he’s terrified suddenly petrified of what the end of this night of pleasure will mean. “You’re safe, I’ve got you,” let go she impresses upon him yet again. Clayton is openly sobbing now. He knows he could use the safeword and bring this to an end but he’s trapped between death by fire and death by ice because he knows that stopping her before she’s done will kill him just as surely as allowing her to finish. “Let go,” Her words are infused with an unshakable authority as though she’s an angel giving a pronouncement from on high. Faced with that command, Clayton begins to relax, plenty of people say they want to die during sex. If this is how his life is going to end it’s not such a bad way to spend his final few moments he thinks, wryly. She leads him right up to the edge. No longer fighting his resisting body he allows himself to get closer and closer to oblivion pre-come pouring from his cock and his entire body shuddering, loud noises of pleasure leaving his mouth, but he’s unable to take that final step, to allow himself to plummet into a free fall of pleasure, until she presses a lingering kiss to the scar adorning his chest and says “Good boy.” Clayton’s world explodes. He hadn’t ever realized what the slow journey up the hill of pleasure could feel like, always concerned with raising up the mountain. It’s as though he’s burning but not with heat, as though he swallowed liquid sunlight all his nerve endings dance in pleasure, as electricity travels up and down his spine, his muscles clench for all their worth one final time and for the moment right before release he suspended in beautiful agony before his muscles relax and a euphoric moan leaves him as his cock spurts wave after wave of cum in the air, painting his stomach, torso, lashes and brows in his own seed. Tears, sweat and cum stain him and blend together as he collapses back onto his pillow and falls asleep, a beatific smile, his first since he died, adorning his angelic face He’s finally alive again.

#clay beresford #smut #awake

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In The Way I Need You Masterlist - Clay Beresford

Series Summary: Clay Beresford never imagined that he would be a single parent at the age of twenty seven. After mistakenly marrying the first girl who didn’t seem to just want him for his money, he was left parenting their son, Joseph Beresford, all on his own. After deciding to hire someone to look after his kid while he went to work, Clay meets you; a shy and kind twenty year old who is new to the city. He falls for you quickly, but his past begins to catch up with him soon after he finally starts to move on from it.

Warnings: 18+, swearing, single dad clay, lilith being the best grandma ever, clay being the best dad ever, fluff, mentions of heart problems, heart conditions, kissing, sexual content, self-deprecating thoughts, oral (f receiving), more to come as the series goes on

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

More to come, probably

#clay beresford #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford #Clayton Beresford x reader #Clayton Beresford imagine #hayden christensen blurb #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen icons #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen #series #in the way I need you #in the way I need you series #awake 2007 #awake

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In The Way I Need You | Part 3

Series Masterlist

➪in which you babysit joey for the first time and clay quickly discovers that he enjoys seeing you interact with his son more than he probably should.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.7k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Hi, Joey!” You say as the kid runs up to you. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he answers and takes off his backpack, handing it to you with a sheepish grin. “Where’s daddy?”

You throw his backpack over your shoulder and take his hand, leading him towards the street where Clay’s driver was waiting for you. Since you didn’t have a car and couldn’t bring a booster seat with you whenever you needed to hail a cab and pick Joey up, Clay told you that his driver was available for that twenty four seven, and you once again were left questioning your career choice. “He’s still at work,” you answer and open the back door. 

“Will I see him at home?” Joey asks as he sits on the booster seat and waits for you to buckle him in. 

“Yes, but not for a little while longer,” you say as you sit next to him. You look at the driver and bite your lip as you try to remember the name Clay told you. 

What was it? Robby? Rodger?

“Hey,” you nudge Joey’s side with a smile. “Do you know his name?” 

Joey’s gaze follows your finger as you discreetly point at the driver. “That’s Mick,” he answers loudly and your face heats up almost instantly. 

A deep laugh was heard from the front of the car and you became even more embarrassed. “It’s Rick,” he corrected the four year old with a teasing grin in the rearview mirror. 

“Right, sorry,” you laugh and run your hands up and down your thighs. “I’m bad with names.”

Rick just waves you off and it was thankfully a peaceful ride back to Clay’s house. When you took Joey’s hand again and led him up the stairs, you fumble around in your pocket for the key Rick gave you. He said that Clay had given it to him to give to you, and you were reminded of the fact that you had completely spaced out last night and forgot to ask for it. 

Once you were both inside, you lock the door and carry Joey up the stairs. “Are you hungry?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen with him. “Do you want a snack before dinner?”

You set him down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and turn to look at the cabinet. You felt a bit weird about looking in someone else’s cupboards, but Clay had texted you beforehand and told you that anything in the kitchen was free for the taking, except for the kiwi in the fridge. That was strictly for Lilith and Lilith only. 

“A little,” Joey answered as he played with the tablecloth. “What’s for dinner?”

You set his backpack down onto the opposing chair, as well as your own tote bag, and opened the long cabinet. “I’m not sure, buddy,” you say and take out a box of crackers. “I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich, if you like those.”

“I do,” he says excitedly. You smile at him and open a few cupboards before finding the one with the plates in it. Taking out a small one, you dump a handful of crackers onto it and set it down in front of Joey. 

As he begins to snack on the crackers, you open his bag and take out the empty lunch containers. Your fingers skim over various pages, and you pull a few of them out and look at the drawings that were labeled with today’s date. “Joey, did you draw these?” You ask as you sit down next to him. 

He nodded, taking a cracker between his small fingers. “They’re from today,”

“Wow,” you say and look over at him. “You’re quite the little artist, huh?”  

Joey smiles and points towards the fridge. You turn and notice that there were multiple drawings on the fridge, each one being held up by a magnet of a different letter. “Daddy put them there,” 

Your smile grows as you turn back to look at Joey. “That’s sweet,” you say and he holds out a cracker to you. “Thanks, buddy. Let me know when you get hungry and I’ll make dinner, okay?”

He nods as you eat the cracker and place a blank sheet of paper in front of him.

“Do you feel like coloring some more? Maybe you can draw something for your dad to come home to later,” you suggest and he excitedly nods as he takes the pack of crayons from you. 

“Okay,” he instantly agreed and began drawing something. You had no clue what it was supposed to be, but you knew Clay would love anything his unbelievably cute son gave him, no matter how abstract it was. 

As Joey colors his picture, you look around the kitchen and debate on whether or not you should take on the task of cleaning it a bit. It wasn’t messy, not by a long shot, but there were a few telltale signs that Clay and Lilith rushed this morning and had to leave things a tad unorganized. 

You ruffle Joey’s hair before standing up and beginning to wash the few dishes that were in the sink, then move onto emptying the coffee machine and wiping off the counters. 

You had just finished tossing the paper towel into the trash when Joey called your name, his mispronunciation of it making you grin, “I’m hungry now,”

“You are?” You ask and grab the loaf of bread and cheese from out of the fridge. “No way, I’m hungry, too.”

Joey laughed at you and lifted up the piece of paper that was now various colors and shapes. “Done,”

“Wow!” You say and set the items in your hands down before making your way over to him. “Your dad will love this. Would you like me to label it for you? So you know what day you drew it?”

He nods and hands you both the page and a red crayon. 

After writing down his name and today’s date, you set it aside and begin making him a grilled cheese sandwich, glancing at him every so often while you wait. 

-

“Joey? Y/n?” Clay calls as he enters his house and pockets his keys. Being met with silence, he heads upstairs and follows the sound of his kid’s laughter all the way to the living room, where he finds him sitting on the couch with you. Clay stops in the doorway as he takes in the sight of his son snuggling into your side while you mess up his hair, and he felt like his heart had skipped a beat when you looked up and smiled at him. 

“Hi,” you greet in a quiet voice, making Joey look up and smile once he locks eyes with him. 

“Daddy!” He calls and gets up from the couch. He runs over to Clay on wobbling legs and practically jumps into his arms. 

“Hey, buddy,” Clay mumbles, wrapping his arms around him. “How was your day? Did you have fun with Y/n?” 

“Yes! I made something for you,” when he began to wiggle in his arms, Clay bent down and let Joey run off down the hall towards the kitchen. He turns back to you with a smile, moving to sit next to you with a decent amount of space between you. “How about you? How was your day?”

“Oh, so good,” you grin and turn the TV off with the remote. “You were right, you’ve got the coolest kid in New York.”

“I told you,” he grinned back and took a second to glance down at your outfit. It was still warm out since it was only the beginning of September, so your jean shorts and cropped tee were still acceptable to wear weather wise. But for some reason Clay couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from raking up and down the smooth skin of your legs. 

He had to get a hold of himself, because you are his kid’s babysitter, and nothing could happen between you. He just had to accept the fact that you were cute, and leave it at that. 

“How was work?” You ask as you trace the floral pattern on the pillow you had on your lap. He realized that it had been so long since someone other than his mother asked him that, and even Lilith had stopped asking since she did pretty much the same thing he did. 

He wasn’t aware of how much he wanted to come home to someone and have them ask him about his day - so he can ask them right back - until now.

Clay shrugged. “Work is work,” he answered and did nothing to stop the grin that took over his lips and matched yours, despite his previous warnings to himself. Maybe nothing more than a professional relationship could occur between the two of you, but that was it.

Before he could further continue acting like he wasn’t into you, Joey came running back into the room with a piece of paper in his hand. “Look, dad,” he said in an excited voice as Clay picked him up and set him down on the couch between you and him. “I made this for you.”

Clay looked at the drawing and felt his heart swell in his chest. He had not one clue what the drawing was supposed to be, but he loved it all the same. Then he noticed the neat handwriting at the bottom of the page. “This is amazing, Joe,” he praised, kissing the top of his son’s head before looking over at you. “Did your babysitter help you write your name?”

“No,” he laughed, snuggling into his side. “She wrote it for me.”

Clay laughed, too, running his hand up and down Joey’s back. “You tired, bud? Ready for a bath and then bed?”

“Yeah,” came his son’s quiet response before he looked over at you. “Can she help me in the bath?”

Clay looked up at you and found you already smiling. “I don’t know, Joey,” he answered. “Y/n might have to go now that I’m home.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” you say and look down at Joey. “You just got here. Relax a bit, I can get him ready for bed.”

Joey got up and crawled over onto your lap, his little fingers playing with the bracelet around your wrist, much like how he did last night. “As long as it’s not keeping you from anything,” Clay stated a bit hesitantly. 

“What could I possibly have going on? It’s seven PM on a Wednesday,” you joked as you stood up and held Joey on your right hip. 

“You never know,” he said back and watched as you shook your head before making your way up to the third floor. Clay sat on the couch for a bit longer and looked at Joey’s drawing. He’ll never understand what he possibly could have done that made the world think he deserved such a sweet kid, but he’ll also never ask in fear that it’ll come back to bite him.

Then he was looking at the bottom right corner again, and now he was wondering why he thought that even your handwriting is pretty. 

He really needed to get a grip. 

Standing up from the couch, he heads into the kitchen with the paper still in his hand. When he looked up, his eyes widened a bit at how damn near spotless the room looked. He remembered leaving in a bit of a rush this morning and not having the time to tidy up, and he felt bad that you would have to see the kitchen in that kind of state. But it was pristine. 

He debated on whether or not he should pay you more just because he couldn’t remember the last time the kitchen had looked this nice, and decided he would need to after he opened the fridge and saw a grilled cheese sandwich in there, covered by saran wrap and topped off with a sticky note. 

For the coolest kid’s dad. 

This was too much.

He closed the fridge again after grabbing the plate and stuck the drawing onto the door of it with a magnet of the letter of your first name by pure coincidence. 

You had used that same red crayon to write on the sticky note, and Clay felt a warm feeling take over his body at the fact that you thought about him, enough to provide him with dinner. 

It was a simple dinner, but he felt like he was eating like a royal. You were somehow able to make him feel more important than anyone else had in a long time, and that was a scary thought. 

The last time he had let himself get too caught up in someone he ended up marrying them and then he was on his own with a kid only a few years later.

He couldn’t let himself feel that way about you. 

So, he tossed the note into the recently changed garbage and ate, what he could confidently say, was the best grilled cheese he had ever had in his life. 

After washing the plate, he heard the sound of soft footsteps nearing the kitchen, and then a second later you poked your head in. “Hi,” you say quietly. “He’s in bed. I think he wants you to go say goodnight to him.”

“Okay, thanks,” Clay said and grabbed your bag from off the kitchen chair. “And thank you for cleaning up the kitchen. You didn’t have to do that.”

He hands your bag to you and you take it with a shy smile. “It’s no big deal,” you shrug and slide the bag up your arm. “I also made you a sandwich, if you’re hungry.”

Clay nods, fighting off a smile. “Another thing you didn’t have to do,” he stated and saw a flash of embarrassment in your eyes, making him quickly add, “But I appreciate it, nonetheless. It was good.”

You smile again and step out into the hall as he follows you. “I’m glad,”

He led you all the way downstairs before pulling out a hundred dollar bill and holding it out to you. “Thanks for everything,”

You look at the bill with wide eyes before shaking your head. “That’s too much,” you say and step away from him. “I was only here for a few hours, I can’t take that.”

“It’s what we agreed on, plus a little more for helping out with the kitchen and getting him ready for bed,” he shrugged, moving towards you when you still didn’t take it. “It’s fine, Y/n, really.” He assured you and placed the bill in your bag after you shook your head again.

“Clay,” you begin, but he silences you with a smile. You smiled back, a grateful look in your eyes as you nod. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he said and opened the door for you. “Are you able to pick him up again tomorrow?”

“Same time?” You ask and step outside. “Yes, of course.”

“Great,” he leans against the door and looks around at the dark street. “Let me know that you go home okay?”

You smile again and nod, holding onto the strap of your bag. “I will. Have a good night,”

He watched as you walked down the steps before murmuring a quiet, “You too,” he was sure you didn’t even hear as you got into a taxi.

Once you were out of sight he closes and locks the door before heading up to Joey’s room, where he finds him almost asleep and snuggled under his covers. “Daddy,” he quietly called and Clay was over to him within seconds. 

“Hey,” he says and sits down on the small bed. “How was your bath?”

“Good,” Joey answers, snuggling closer to Clay’s side. “I like her. She’s nice.”

Clay hums, smoothing out Joey’s hair that was already pretty much dry. “I do, too, buddy,” he agrees. “Do you want to see her again tomorrow?”

Joey nods and closes his eyes. “She makes good sandwiches,” he mumbles. 

“She does,” Clay once again agrees with the four year old before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Goodnight, Joey. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

And then Joey was asleep, and Clay was left thinking about you. 

His kid was right; you are nice. Far too nice for your own good, and way too sweet for him to be thinking about you in the way he is now. 

He thought about how you went out of your way to clean up the place, make him food, then proceed to still help him by getting Joey ready for bed, even after he was already home. 

You were such a genuinely kind person, Clay was wondering how he got lucky enough to run into you, literally, on the street and have you in his life, if only to look after his son. 

With one last glance at Joey, Clay stands up and leaves the room, closing the door behind him before making his way back into the kitchen, where he reaches in and grabs the sticky note with your pretty handwriting from out of the unused garbage bag. 

He holds it in one hand while he types out a text to you with his other. 

Thanks again for everything. I’m going out this weekend to pick up some groceries, so let me know if there is anything I can keep here for you when you’re babysitting. 

Instead of waiting for you to text him back, he regretfully clicks on Sam’s contact and calls her. Unsurprisingly, he gets her voicemail, and he stays silent for a beat or two before leaving her another message. “It was his second day of school today,” he muttered, leaning back against the headboard of his bed. “He doesn’t even ask about you, can you believe that? He thinks growing up without a mother is normal. You did that to him. You left him without even thinking about what it will be like for him in the future.”

He let out an annoyed sigh, angry with himself for reaching out to her again, even after sorting out a small portion of his life. Clay truly had no control over the part of himself that wanted Sam to come back, and the even bigger part of him that hated her for leaving him. 

“You’re a coward, Sam, you know that?” He asked and felt his anger rising within him. His heartbeat quickened as his skin heated up, and he found it a bit hard to breathe at the moment. Then he looked at the note that was still in his hand, and felt himself relax just a bit. 

His eyes traced over every letter and by the time he reached the last one, his heartbeat was back to normal and he no longer wanted to waste any more of his time on her. At least for the rest of the night. 

So, he hung up without saying another word, and when he glanced at the screen, he saw that you had texted him back during the time he spent leaving Sam that pointless voicemail.

Joey’s Sitter: Well….since you asked. Diet coke. Pretty please.

And Clay was now smiling as he set the sticky note down on his alarm clock and replied with,

That stuff is really bad for you, you know that, right? It’s easy to get addicted to.

He wasn’t one to talk, as he, too, has been addicted to things in the past. He was a regular smoker before he met Sam, and stopped well before Joey was born as he didn’t want him around that kind of thing. And Sam had been pestering him about stopping for quite some time at that point, as well.

Joey’s Sitter: Oh, I didn’t realize you were a doctor. Or a special health therapist. My bad. I guess I can use my babysitting money to buy it myself, then you would technically be buying it for me anyway. 

Clay laughed and pulled off his tie, tossing it aside as he leaned against the pillows.

I’ll get it for you. Just felt like lecturing you a bit. You save up and buy yourself something later on. 

 Joey’s Sitter: Now you’re, what, a teacher? When can I find out what your actual job is? And I am eternally grateful for your kindness about providing me with my diet coke. 

Just so you know, I would never buy diet coke intentionally. I’m making an exception for you so I know you have something here. I can promise that no one else in this house will drink that stuff. And I’m just a boring businessman. As stereotypical as you’re probably thinking it is.

Joey’s Sitter: I wasn’t, but good to know. 

Just as he was about to respond, he heard a few quiet knocks at his door before it opened. He looks up and meets the eyes of his mother, who smiles at him. “Hey,”

“Hey,” he says back and puts his phone on his nightstand. “Long day?”

“Long week,” she says as she crosses the room and sits next to him. “The kitchen looks nice. Did you clean up after putting Joey to bed?”

“No,” he replies and sits up. “Y/n cleaned up.”

“Y/n?” She asked and didn’t bother masking her surprised tone as she pulled off her high heels. “That’s nice. How was Joey with her today?”

“Good,” he answered. “He really likes her. He even asked her to help him get ready for bed.”

Lilith pulled the clip from her hair and looked over at him. “And did she?” When Clay nodded, she pursed her lips. “Wow, she’s better than I thought she was.”

Clay furrowed his brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Even he had to admit that his voice sounded a bit defensive, and his mom definitely caught onto that fact. 

“Nothing, Clay,” she waved him off and stood up, pressing a multitude of kisses to his cheek. “Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Careful?” He muttered and looked up at her. 

She smiled and grabbed her discarded heels. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she whispered and left the room again, leaving him feeling a bit confused and a tad annoyed again.

He debated on whether or not to continue to text you, but decided not to as he worked on the buttons of his shirt and got ready for bed.

#clayton beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagine #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen icons #awake 2007 #awake #in the way i need you #in the way i need you series

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 8

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and clay go on your first date and quickly realize just how much you like each other.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were going through Clay’s questionable movie collection as Joey played with his blocks on the floor a few feet away from you, his lips moving a million times a minute as he told you whatever random thought came to his mind. 

“My dad really likes you,” he said, making you look over at him with a smile, the DVD for Ghostbusters in your hand. 

“Yeah?” You ask, setting it aside before rummaging through another bin in hopes you could find a movie suitable for Joey. “I really like him, too.”

Joey knocks the tower he had just built down and starts again as he says, “He talks about you a lot,” 

You blush as your hand brushes against the DVD for The Lion King, and your mind instantly goes back to the first night you spent here. The same night you and Clay kissed for the first time in this very room. “Does he?” 

Joey nods and you knew you’d have to tease Clay later about the fact that his own son had accidentally exposed him. “We think you’re pretty,”

You get up and walk over to him before wrapping your arms around his little body and lifting him up. “Really?” You hum, kissing his cheek quickly as you make your way upstairs. “Well, I think you are adorable.” 

It was nearing seven thirty when you finished bathing Joey, and as soon as you had him snuggled under his covers, Clay poked his head into the room with a small grin. “Daddy,” Joey called out to him as Clay entered the room and sat next to his son. 

“Hey, buddy,” he said back, smoothing out Joey’s hair before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “I missed you.” He said before looking up at you with tired eyes. 

You smile down at him as you put away the book you had just finished reading to Joey. 

“And you,” he murmurs, taking your hand in his in front of his kid. “Go to sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow. I think grandma wants to steal you for a little bit, so you get to spend the day with her.”

“Okay,” Joey smiled up at his dad before closing his eyes.

“I love you,” Clay whispers and looks over at you as he stands up. He laces your fingers together as he tugs you out of the room and quietly shuts the door behind him. “How was your day?” He asks as he leads you back downstairs and into the living room. 

“It was good,” you answer as he moves to sit on the couch, his hand slipping from yours in order to pull you onto his lap. “Joey and I talked a lot.”

Clay smiled up at you, “About what?”

You hold back a smirk as you smooth out his shirt. “About how much his dad likes me,” you say and watch as his smile fades and his brows furrow in embarrassment. “Apparently he talks about me a lot, too.

Clay groaned and closed his eyes. “God, that kid has a big mouth,” he muttered, resting his head against the top of the couch. 

“So does his dad, apparently,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes. 

“I’m never talking to him about you again,” he said, but was only half serious. 

“That’ll be hard to do, I hear that kid really likes me, too,”

Clay grinned and nodded in agreement. “He does,” he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “And I love how much he loves you already.”

Your smirk softens as you think about the sweet kid sleeping upstairs. “I kinda love him, too,” you confess and watch as Clay’s smile grows. “He’s so much like you, it’s hard not to grow attached to him…to both of you.”

Clay’s smile fades at that, but before you could question if you had said the wrong thing or not, he was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss surprises you but you quickly reciprocate it, your hands sliding up his arms and gripping his shoulders. 

His own hands grab hold of your waist and pull your body right up against his. Your lips mesh together with a sense of desperation, the few kisses you’ve shared before this clearly not being enough for the both of you as you connect over and over again with very little breaths in between. 

“Someone really did miss me,” you tease when you pull away.

“Of course I missed you,” he softly scoffed as he gently traced shapes onto your jean covered thighs. “Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?” He asked and then kissed you again.

A grin breaks out on your lips, making you involuntarily break the kiss. “Yes,” you answer and press three quick kisses to his mouth. “I do.”

“Great,” he rasped in between kisses before pulling away with a boyish grin. “I’ll pick you up at….wait, when are you free?”

You press a final chase kiss to his lips. “Whenever you are,”

“So….say, six AM?”

Your eyes widen and you pull away with a nervous laugh. “Okay, maybe not that early,”

Clay shakes his head as you move to settle against his side. “How about around one? I’ll pick you up,”

You give him a teasing look, “Rick will pick me up,”

“I’m giving him the day off,” he says and you look up at him in surprise. 

“You are? So you’re actually picking me up then?” Clay hums, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “Wow, and they say chivalry is dead.”

-

Clay was actually feeling nervous as he gave the taxi driver, yes taxi driver, your address. 

He wanted to drive himself, but was advised against it ever since his heart attack, so he was left with the task of hailing a cab and getting to you that way. He was sure you wouldn’t care, though. If he knew anything at all, it was that you were a genuinely nice person and didn’t care about the things he usually felt embarrassed or concerned about, and he adored you for it. 

The last time he had felt this nervous was when he was going on his first official date with Sam. That felt like forever ago, and he realized that he didn’t miss those years as much as he used to anymore, and he knew it was because of you. 

When he arrives at the cute townhouse apartment, he asks the cab driver to wait for a few minutes before getting out of the car and walking up the stone steps that led to the door. He knocked a couple times and was only waiting for a few seconds before the door opened and you gave him a nervous smile. “Hi,”

“Hi,” he said back, looking at the cute white and blue dress you were wearing. “You look pretty.”

You blush and reach behind you to shut the door. “Thanks,” you reply. “You look hot.”

Clay laughed, looking down at his white button up and dark jeans. Yes, he was actually wearing jeans. What were you doing to him? He never wore jeans, but he didn’t feel the need to constantly dress formally around you like he did with everyone else. He didn’t feel the need to pretend. “Thank you,” he said and held his hand out to you. 

When you take it, he leads you to the cab and watches as you fight back a smile. “You took a cab here?”

“Yeah,” he answered, opening the backseat door. “I was going to drive myself but…” He gestured to where his heart was weakly beating in his chest. “I’ve been told it’s not a good idea right now,” 

Your eyes soften and you squeeze his hand in yours. “I get it,” you murmured and got in the back when he moved out of the way. 

“I was thinking about showing you Times Square,” he offered and you grin over at him. “I know it’s a bit of a long drive, but maybe we can spend a few hours down there? And then we can get dinner.”

“That sounds perfect, Clay. Just nowhere expensive,” you reach over and grab his hand again as the forty minute drive begins. 

He was a bit worried that it would be awkward, but he should’ve known that with you it never was. You made him feel comfortable, and he could only hope he made you feel the same. Chances are that he did, as the whole drive consisted of small talk that allowed him to get to know more about you. 

You were a straight A student in high school, used to work at a movie rental store and loved it before you had to quit when you moved to Brooklyn, your favorite animal is a polar bear, and your left eyebrow lifted every time you talked about a topic you loved. 

You didn’t tell him that last one, of course, he picked up on it and realized that you probably didn’t even know you did it, but it was cute and so you for some reason. 

It was nearing two when you finally made it to the busy Times Square, and you looked a bit overwhelmed as you stood on the sidewalk with him next to you. “Wow, it’s lively down here,” you observe and tighten your hold on his hand. 

“Are you okay?” He asked and lifted his free hand up so he could tuck your hair behind your ear. “I guess I should’ve warned you that it can get a bit busy around this area. I’m sorry, baby.”

“I knew it would be,” you trail off and meet his eyes. “I’m okay, really, just don’t let go of my hand and we’ll be fine.”

Clay laughed and pulled you closer to him. “That’s more than okay with me,”

He showed you all the various stores and restaurants around Times Square, all while keeping his hand locked in yours. It can get confusing, even for him at times, so he tried to not get completely lost in the area he was only somewhat familiar with. 

“This city just gets bigger and bigger everyday,” you laugh and pull him along with you to a flower shop. “I feel so overwhelmed, but in a good way.”

You look at all the different flowers with a pretty smile painted on your lips. “What’s your favorite kind?” He asked and you pointed over to the red roses. 

“It reminds me of when I was little and I would people watch at the living room bay window,” you say as you walk over to the roses, and Clay follows after you. “I had these neighbors named Cindy and Mark. They were a couple and used to babysit me after school until my parents got home. They were across the street from us and every single time Mark got home from work, he would have a single red rose in his hand and sometimes I’d get to see him give it to Cindy. She always looked like she had fallen in love with him all over again every time he gave her a rose.”

Clay felt a smile form on his face as he listened to your memory from childhood. He loved how you noticed things like that, and he wanted to know so much more about you. “That’s a nice story,” he commented and you turned to look over at him. 

“It was a nice time in my life,” you murmured and held his gaze until he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You kiss him back and wrap your free hand around the back of his neck as you stand a bit taller in order to reach him easier. He pulls away with a soft grin that you had no choice but to copy. “What was that for?”

Clay shrugged, “I just like you a lot,” he answered and you blushed as you broke eye contact and pulled him out of the flower shop. On his way out, one of the employees must have been watching the sweet exchange as he held out a single red rose to Clay as he passed by him, and Clay made a mental note to return to this shop and pay the kind man for his gesture. 

You failed to notice it as you tugged him with you to a small hut on the side of the street that was selling key chains and charms. “I love stuff like this,” you admit as you look at all the charms with wide eyes. You grab one that simply said ‘Welcome to NY’ in a cursive font and hold it up to him. “It sounds dumb, but I don’t know. I just love it.”

“It’s not dumb,” he says and you shrug as you turn to ask the seller how much it was. You hand him a ten dollar bill, even though the charm was only five dollars, and tell him to keep the change before turning around to face Clay with a toothy smile on your lips. 

“Look,” you say and hold the charm up before adding it to your keychain. “I’m a real New Yorker now.”

Clay laughed, “I think you’re the only person in New York that actually has a keychain that says ‘Welcome to New York’,” 

You roll your eyes but soften your expression when he holds up his hand and shows you the rose. “Clay,” you whisper and slowly take it from him. 

“I don’t want to pry into your past, what I already know about it is enough for me, but I do want you to have good memories here, too,” he said and your smile grew as you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. 

“Trust me,” you start as he returns your hug by wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “All the memories I’ve made here have been amazing. I have you and Joey to thank for that.”

Clay kissed the top of your head. “You don’t need to thank us, pretty girl,” he murmurs and pulls away to brush your hair out of your face. “You’ve done so much for us. It’s been better with you around, and Joey loves and trusts you so much…I think he really needed someone like you in his life.”

Your eyes glaze over and you look away. “Stop it,” you scold lightly. “I refuse to cry on the first date, Clay.” 

“I’m sorry,” he laughed and looked up at the darkening sky. The streets had cleared out a bit, but he still kept you close to him, simply because he loved having you near him. “It’s nearly five thirty. Are you hungry?”

“Always,” you answer and lace your fingers with his as you bring the flower up to your nose and inhale the fresh scent. 

“Did any of the places we passed look good to you?” He asked as you began walking down the street again. 

You nodded as you closed your eyes and grinned. “I’m fine with anywhere,” you tell him. “Just as long as they have diet coke.”

Clay rolled his eyes and began guiding you towards one of the more pricey restaurants, but you stepped back with a look of warning that had him grinning as he easily pulled you along with him. Your complaints fell on deaf ears, and you eventually gave in when he ordered you a diet coke, and the rest of dinner passed by with more talking and even more flirting. 

It was nearing seven when the two of you got into the back of a cab and started the forty minute drive back to Brooklyn. Clay sat behind the driver as you crawled over and rested against his side, the dark scenery not capturing much of your attention as you gaze up at Clay. “I had fun,” you tell him quietly as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “This is the best day I’ve had in a while.” 

“I’m glad,” he whispered back, kissing you quickly before resting his chin on the top of your head. “Are you tired?”

You nodded, “A bit,”

“It’ll be a while before we get back to your place,” he says. “You can close your eyes if you want.”

You whine a bit as you move closer to him. “I want to be with you,”

“I’m here,” he assured you, tracing his fingers up and down your arm. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

Giving in, you nod again and close your eyes, and Clay sat completely still as he listened to your quiet breathing. The drive back went by surprisingly quick, and he was a bit disappointed when he gently shook you awake and helped you out of the car. He loved spending more than an hour or two with you, and he was beginning to realize that he wanted to do it all the time. 

He takes your hand in his as the two of you walk up the stone steps that lead up to your front door, and when you get there, you turn to him with a tired smile. “I don’t want you to leave,” you shyly confess as you drape your arms around his neck, being careful not to crush the rose. “Today was amazing, Clay.”

Clay smiled down at you and kissed your forehead. “I don’t want to leave, either,” he admitted and pulled away to brush his nose against yours. 

You give him a teasing grin as you backed yourself up against the door and pulled him with you. “I don’t get you all to myself very often,” you mumble, scratching at the short hairs on the back of his neck. “If I’m not careful, I might become selfish when it comes to you.”

“Please,” he whispered as he braced both hands against the door on either side of your head. He leaned in and ghosted his lips over yours as he continued, “Please, be selfish with me, because I think I’m selfish with you, too. I’m jealous of my own kid because he gets to be around you more than I do.”

You smile at that. “Kiss him goodnight for me?” You sweetly ask and he nodded instantly before pressing a deep kiss to your lips. 

Your hands slide down his back and you pull his body right up against your own, and the quiet moan that left your mouth had him pressing himself harder against you. That damn sound you made will stay with him all night, and he knew he wanted to get you to make it more often. He wanted to discover all the pretty sounds you make whenever he got you alone with him, and he wanted to see if you tasted as sweet as he knew you were. 

He needed to go before he began to physically show you the effect you have on him. That could wait. He wanted to take his time with you, he didn’t want to rush into things like he did before, even if he was convinced that you were everything he could possibly want and more. 

“I should go,” he mumbled against your mouth, and you whine softly before pulling away. 

“You probably should,” you agreed and he huffed out a laugh before kissing you one last time and backing away. “Thank you for a great first date, Clay.”

He smiled at you as he stepped down onto the stone slabs. “So can I expect a second one?”

You looked in thought for a second. “You can expect to see me at your house for a couple hours a week,” you shrug then give him a genuine smile as you press the rose against the tip of your nose. “Goodnight, Clay. See you on Monday?”

Clay nodded and you turned to unlock and open your front door. “See you on Monday, pretty girl,”

#clayton beresford #clayton beresford x reader #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagine #awake #awake 2007 #in the way i need you series #in the way i need you #hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen smut

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 7

Series Masterlist

➪in which clay tries to make amends with you, and you become even closer with joey.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Clay tried to bathe Joey as quickly as he could, because he knew you could walk out at any second. He wouldn’t be surprised if you skipped out on your payment again tonight and left while he was getting Joey ready for bed. He wouldn’t even blame you.

“Goodnight, buddy,” he said softly as he kissed Joey’s forehead. “I love you.”

He was asleep before Clay even left the room, making him tug off his tie with shaky fingers as he quickly headed towards the stairs.

God, he hoped you stayed. You didn’t say you would, but you also didn’t leave right away like he was sure you were going to. That was a good sign, right?

When he descended the stairs and saw you still sitting on the couch, he let out a sigh of relief before entering the room and moving to sit next to you, making sure to leave some space between you. “I’m happy you stayed,” 

You trace the tip of your tongue along the backs of your upper teeth, and Clay struggled to keep his eyes locked on yours as you say, “I thought about leaving as soon as you went upstairs,” 

Your confession, though it was one he expected, still had him feeling awful about what he did and said about you. “I’m really sorry,” he started. “I didn’t mean those things I said about you to my mother. It’s just…she’s..” He wasn’t sure where he was trying to go with this, and you clearly weren’t in the mood for excuses as you huffed and reached for your bag again.

“I get it. You don’t want your mom finding out you kissed the babysitter because she probably thinks of me as just a kid. Maybe you both do,” you mumbled and stood up. “Let’s just both be professional until I can find another job.”

Clay’s eyes widened at that as he stood up quickly, too. “What? You’re looking for another job?” When you nod at him, he asks, “Why?”

You laugh and place your bag onto your shoulder again. “I obviously can’t keep working for you since we went way over the professional aspect of our relationship. And you think I’m just some immature kid,” you bitterly recall the conversation he had with his mom yesterday. “I’m twenty, so nothing can happen between us, right?” 

Clay closed his eyes tightly at the reminder of all the lies he said in order to get his mother off his case. He didn’t mean any of it, he just needed to say something that would give him time to think things through, and he knew now that he did want you. He knew that before, he just didn’t know what to do about it. “No,” he answered and you squint your eyes at him. “I like you, Y/n. I have since the minute I met you.” 

You look away from him quickly and cross your arms. “We don’t know anything about each other, Clay,” you point out, but he was just happy you didn’t call him Mr. Beresford again. 

“I want to know everything about you,” he said and watched with guilty eyes as you tense up a bit in a way to guard yourself from him. He hated it, but he understood why you were so hesitant around him right now. 

When you finally meet his gaze, you sigh, “Clay,”

“I mean it,” he promised and sat back down again. He looked up at you as things were completely in your control at the moment, and you both knew it. “You’re not a kid, and I don’t think you’re immature. You’re actually one of the most mature people I’ve ever met.”

You drop your arms to your sides as you ask, “Then why did you say all of that stuff to your mom about me? And don’t give me some dumb excuse, or else I’ll leave right now,”

Clay nodded quickly, “My mother has always been really protective over me and who I give my heart to since it hasn’t worked properly for most of my life. When I met Joey’s mom, I didn’t think things through and I rushed that relationship, leaving me a single dad before I even reached my thirties,” 

Your hard gaze softens and you sit down next to him again, unknowingly giving him more confidence to continue his embarrassing backstory. 

“She tried to warn me about marrying her and starting a life with her since she was so sure Sam just wanted me for money. Then she got pregnant and stayed with me for about twelve more months after that and then I never saw her again,” he hated talking about Sam since the signs were so clearly there, he just never realized them until it was too late. It made him feel like an idiot for ever thinking she truly loved him. “I was depressed for months after and I had to take care of Joey by myself for the most part. My mom had to watch me spiral for a long time before I finally realized that Sam wasn’t coming back. I know she doesn’t want me to go back to how I was when Sam left me. She’s more protective over my heart than I am, but you already knew that since she told you about my condition less than an hour after meeting you.” 

A small, barely-there smile forms on your lips before you look away and play with the bracelet on your wrist. “I know she’s protective over you, Clay,” you agree. “But that doesn’t explain why you said all that stuff about me. You sounded so serious when you said that us falling asleep together will never happen again and that nothing is going on between us when I thought there was.”

“There is,” he stated firmly, glancing down when he felt your knee brush against his. “There is something between us. I only said there wasn’t because I don’t want to have my mother be so invested in another relationship of mine. Maybe she was right about the first one, but I know what I want now. It’s you.” 

Clay watches as a blush forms on your face before you break eye contact again. “How am I supposed to believe you?” You ask and Clay thinks about it for a second before he gets up, making you glance over at him. 

“Stay here,” he requested, waiting until you gave him a confused nod before going back upstairs and walking straight to his nightstand. He grabbed the sticky note you had left for him the first night you babysat Joey before quickly heading back down. When he walked back into the living room, he saw how your pretty eyes gazed up at him in interest as he sat next to you again. “Here.”

He holds out the note and watches as realization takes over your features and how your lips curve up into a smile. “For the coolest kid’s dad,” you read the note after taking it from him, holding it as if it was the most fragile letter you’ve ever read. “You kept it.”

“It’s been stuck to my alarm clock since the first night you watched Joey,” he said and was powerless to fight the grin that formed on his lips when you turned your head to look over at him.

“I can’t believe you kept it,” you murmur in disbelief. 

Clay had initially felt dumb for keeping it, since it was just a simple note you left him alongside the dinner you set aside for him, but the look you were giving him right now had him feeling nothing short of amazing. He was glad he went back for it after he threw it away when he came to the realization that he was into you. “Well, it meant a lot to me at the time,” he shrugged. “Means a lot to me now. And so do you.”

Your eyes stared into his as if you were trying to figure out if he was being truthful or not. He knew he was, and so did you as after you set the note aside, you take his hand in your smaller one and give him a conflicted smile. “Okay, so I guess I believe you,” 

Clay laughed and ran this thumb along your knuckles. “Good, because I have and will always take you and us seriously,”

Your smile grows as you ask, “So we’re doing this?” 

He laces his fingers with yours and nods. “We’re doing this,” he confirmed and leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him. You snuggle against his side and rest your head on his chest as your fingers play with his. “And I mean it, I want to know everything about you.”

You smile up at him. “Like what?” 

Clay shrugged, “I don’t know, anything. What’s your favorite food? Color? What pet did you have growing up?”

Laughing loudly, you turn and pull your hand out of his so you can drape his arm around your shoulders instead. “Wow, those questions are very personal,” you tease as you tangle your fingers with his again. “Food…probably pizza, shocker, I know. Color, blue. And my parents never let me get a pet when I was a kid. Unless you count a fish I won at a fair I went to with my friend and her family that my mom flushed as soon as I walked through the door.”

Clay raised his brows as he tried to hold back a smile. “Wow, uh,” he trailed off. “Poor fish?”

You shake your head, “Poor fish,”

Clay kind of wanted to ask you about your family, but from what he already knew about them, you’re not close anymore. They were the reason you moved to Brooklyn by yourself, and were the reason you had to fend for yourself for most of your life. 

He’ll let you tell him more about them if and when you’re ready to.

The time passed by quickly after that, and just as you lean up to kiss him, the front door opens and closes, and Clay sighs as he hears his mother’s footsteps ascend the stairs. 

You stand up quickly and grab your bag again as you move a few feet away. Lilith enters the living room a few seconds later and looks between the two of you with an unreadable expression, and her brows raise as Clay stands up as well. “Hi, Mrs. Beresford,” you greet her with a small smile, and Clay was grateful for the fact that you didn’t force him to announce that you and he are…together? Is that what you were? Unofficially, of course, but you knew you wanted each other, and that was enough for now. 

Fuck, he hasn’t even asked you out on a date yet. 

That will be next on his to do list. 

“Hello, Y/n,” she says back and looks over at Clay. “Have you been home long, sweetheart?” 

He knew what she was doing. She was trying to see if you and him had been talking for long before she got home, and he refused to give in and prove her right. “No, only a few minutes,” 

He’d been home for well over an hour now, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah, I was just leaving,” you add and step around her. “I got an early morning tomorrow.”

Lilith nodded as Clay moved to stand next to you after discreetly grabbing the sticky note and putting it in his pocket. “I’ll walk you out,” he offered and watched as you fought off a smile all the way down to the front door. “So…early morning tomorrow? Is that true or are you secretly a really good liar?”

You reach the bottom of the stairs and turn to him with a tight smile. “It’s actually true,” you tell him and he notices that you weren’t smiling like you were a minute ago. You looked nervous as you added, “I have a job interview tomorrow.”

That wiped Clay’s smile off his own face as he stepped closer to you. “Oh,”

“I can cancel it,” you quickly say but he shakes his head. 

“No, you don’t have to,” he said back, taking your hands in his. “I want you to keep babysitting, but I also don’t want you to feel weird about me paying you now that we’re…you know.”

“Oh, you can’t pay me anymore, Clay,” you inform him. “I refuse to receive payments from the guy I’m seeing, or…whatever.”

Clay laughed, “Okay, so…go to that interview then,”

You tug on his hands a bit as you walk backwards towards the door. “I’ll miss you and Joey too much if I get a new job, though,” 

Clay hummed, the smile returning to his lip at your words. “Okay….well, I can usually handle the kid just fine on my own in the mornings, so maybe you can ask for the day shift? Then you can hang out with Joey after. Or maybe find a weekend job? Eitherway, Joey and I would miss you, too, if we didn’t get to see you as often as we do now.”

You smile your pretty smile up at him before you both lean in and close the distance. Clay’s hands grip onto either side of your face while yours trail up his back before gripping his neck and pulling him closer to you. He felt his heartbeat quicken at the small noise you made as he pressed you against the door, and he knew he would be playing it on repeat until he saw you again. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you pull away but keep your face close to his. “I should go,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his with every word. “Your mom might get suspicious.”

Clay nods, pressing another deep kiss to your lips before pulling away and opening the door for you. 

“I’ll wait, Clay,” you say quietly as you step out onto the stone steps. “I know you’re not ready to tell your mom, and maybe it’s too early to say this, but I’ll wait until you are.”

Clay gives you a grateful smile before stepping forward and kissing you one last time. “Text me when you get home,” he requested and you nod, giving him a wave as you step out onto the dark street.

-

You had a dumb smile on your face the whole way back home, and you knew it wasn’t going away anytime soon

Clay liked you back. He wanted to be with you in the way you want to be with him. You were sure you’re dreaming, and you didn’t want to wake up any time soon.

You were feeling giddy as you set your bag down onto your bed before sitting next to it and pulling out your phone. 

I’m home and haven’t been able to stop smiling yet.

Clay Beresford: That makes two of us. I’ll see you tomorrow? 

Definitely. I only like you for your cute kid, anyway.

Clay Beresford: I understand, but that still hurts. Goodnight, pretty girl.

You blush at the text and set your phone aside before getting up and heading over to your laptop. You knew now that you didn’t want to get a job that prevented you from babysitting Joey, even if you refused to be paid for it since you were…with Clay? Were you with Clay now? You didn’t even know.

All you knew was that you liked him. A lot. And you liked his son, and you wanted to keep babysitting him when he got home from school. 

You pull up the job offer you responded to and read over the information posted with it. It was a simple cafe job and it had paid training if you get selected for it, and it also had a pretty relaxed schedule. The morning shift and evening shifts were hiring, as well as the weekend shifts.

The morning shift started at seven and went until one in the afternoon, so you’d still be able to pick Joey up from school if you were to get the job. You just wouldn’t have a lot of freetime, but it’s not like you did a whole lot anyway. You were pretty much alone since you moved away from your family and the few friends you kept after graduating high school.

It would be a great distraction from all of it. 

Deciding against canceling your interview for the following morning, you close your laptop again and get ready for bed, a permanent smile stuck on your lips. After completing your night routine, you go back to your bag and take out Joey’s drawing. Placing it on the fridge, you admire the picture for a few seconds before heading back to your room. 

The next morning you were a bit late waking up, leading you to quickly throw on a pair of light jeans and a white tee before grabbing your converse and fleeing your apartment. 

The coffee shop was a few blocks down from your place, so you decided to save money on a cab fare and walk. You were a bit nervous as you sat down and waited for the owner, whose name was Jess, to come out. Your leg was bouncing under the table as you watched the customers come and go, and one looked a bit familiar as she waited for her coffee. You don’t think you have ever seen her before, but something about her seemed….familiar for some reason.

She had light brown hair and dark brown eyes, and when she looked over and smiled at you, you saw that she had perfectly straight white teeth. You felt a bit insecure just looking at her, so you returned the smile before quickly looking away just as Jess sat down across from you. 

Jess had strawberry blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that reminded you of both Clay and Joey’s, and she looked to be around your age, if not a few years older. As the interview went on, you learned that she had a similar backstory as you did, with her leaving her family home at the age of nineteen and opening up her own coffee shop. She used up all the money she’d been saving since she was fourteen and nearly lost it all until the cafe was given a great review that ended up saving her and allowing it to be her official source of income. 

She was really nice and you bonded with her well. You hoped you got the job, but if not, you’d definitely visit and support her business anyway. 

Once the interview was over, you had an hour or so before you had to go pick Joey up from school, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited to see both him and Clay. Things were okay again, and even though you couldn’t do anything with Clay in front of his mom right now, you were still looking forward to seeing him once he got home from work. 

While you still didn’t fully understand his situation with his ex and mom, you would keep quiet about it until he felt ready enough to further explain it to you. 

You spent your time going to the nearest grocery store and picking up stuff to make tacos with, wanting to give Joey a bit of a different dinner tonight. After passing by the candy aisle, you think it over for a few seconds before pulling out your phone.

For no specific reason, does Joey like candy? If so, what kind? Once again, for no specific reason at all.

You weren’t expecting him to get back to you so quickly as you browse through possible options, planning on going for the healthiest unhealthy option if he wasn’t able to get back to you for a while.

Clay Beresford: He’s four. Of course he likes candy. Any kind. If you’re planning on getting him some, be prepared for me to pay you back. 

You roll your eyes as you grab some Starbursts and Fun Dip before typing with one hand as you put the items onto the counter. 

Don’t be such a dad. I’m not taking your money ever again. 

Clay Beresford: The dad life chose me. Did you go to that interview? I meant to wish you luck earlier.

You smile at the lady behind the counter as she hands you back a plastic bag before leaving the store and starting the somewhat short walk to Clay’s house.

Yeah, I did. I appreciate it, but your luck wasn’t needed. Pretty sure I was the best candidate she’s had all week. 

Clay Beresford: That’s good…so can Joe and I expect to lose you soon?

You smile at that as you cross the street, the same dumb grin from last night coming back in full swing.

Hopefully not…like I said, I’d miss you too much. Both of you.

Clay Beresford: Hopefully we won’t have to miss you, too.

You assume he went back to work after that as he didn’t reply to your teasing remark, leaving you to pocket your phone as you waited for the time to go by so you could pick Joey up from school. 

An hour passes, and you are currently sitting at the kitchen table beside Joey. He was still telling you all about his day, and when you opened his backpack, you pulled out a few more drawings. One was of him and Clay, another was what you think is a dog and him hinting at something, and the last one was of you and him. 

You hung all of them on the fridge before getting him a snack, which was a simple celery and cheese dip. It felt like no matter how much this kid ate, he was always hungry and didn’t gain a single pound. 

You were in the middle of coloring in a flower when Joey suddenly says, “I wish I had a mom,”

The crayon fell from your fingers as you gazed up at him in surprise. He continued coloring in the lion you had drawn for him, seeming to not realize just how heartbreaking his words actually were. “What?” You couldn’t help but ask, grabbing the crayon again before it could roll off the table. 

“All my friends have a mom,” he answered, looking up at you when he noticed that you had stopped coloring. “They make fun of me for not having one.”

Your brows furrow at that and suddenly you were mad at a bunch of four year olds. “Well, maybe they’re not your real friends if they make fun of you,” you offered and tried to go back to your flower, but you were beginning to feel sad for the poor kid beside you. “And you have your grandma, and your dad. They love you so much, Joey, you don’t really need a mom when you have them.” You weren’t sure if you should be saying that, but you didn’t know what else you could say. 

Joey shrugged, handing you the orange crayon in exchange for the yellow one you were holding. “And you,” he said and you felt tears prick your eyes. You were sure Joey would be the cause of many of your tears since his story was a sad one, and you wished you could do something more for him but weren’t sure how.

“Yeah,” you whisper, reaching over and brushing his hair out of his face with a forced smile. “You have me, too.”

You watched him color for a bit after that before forcing yourself to get up and  cook the beef for tacos. One messy dinner later, you send Joey off to the living room with the pack of Starbursts as you clean the kitchen. Tears were still burning your eyes as you heard the faint sound of the front door opening and closing, and it only got worse when you heard the sound of Joey laughing and Clay’s muffled voice from down the hall. 

You were washing the plates when he entered the dining room and crossed over to the kitchen. “Hey,” he says quietly, coming up behind you and placing his hands on your hips. “How was your day?” 

He leans in to brush his lips against your temple, and you hold back the sob that wanted to leave your mouth as you straighten up against his chest. “It was good,” you answered, and even you could hear the waver in your voice. Clay stiffens and you sigh as you turn your head away. “I’m sorry.”

Clay shakes his head and gently turns your body so you’re facing him. His gaze softens at the tears gathered in your eyes and he reaches one hand up to caress the side of your face, the other one reaching around you to turn the water off. “What’s wrong?” 

You avoid eye contact as you shrug, pressing the heels of your hand against your eyes. “I feel like an idiot right now, Clay,” you mumble, laughing pathetically after. 

He furrows his brows and gently grips your chin with his index finger and thumb, turning your head so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “Talk to me,” he softly demanded. “What happened?” 

You give him a strained sigh as you shake your head. “I just can’t believe that your bitch of an ex-wife left you and Joey. He’s so sweet and kind and….he’s a kid, Clay. How could she do that to him? To you?”

Clay gave you a small smile before leaning in and pressing a chaste but passionate kiss to your lips. “What brought this on?” He hummed when he pulled away and ran his hand up your back before tugging your body against his. 

You rest your head against his chest and bunch up the fabric of his shirt in your hands. “Joey told me how much he wishes he had a mom and how the kids at school tease him for it,” you mumble. “I don’t know, it made me upset. And I probably shouldn’t be this upset, but I can’t help it. It’s not fair.”

Clay hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I love that you’re upset about it. Means you care,” he murmured. “And you’re right, it’s not fair, but trust me when I say that we’re all better off without her, especially Joey.”

You give him a sad smile. “Still…I just wish there was more I could do for him….for all of you,”

Clay shook his head, leaning down to press another his to your temple. “You do so much for us already,” he assured you, leaning back against the counter and letting you settle between his arms and legs. “And Joey adores you. He gets so excited whenever I tell him that you’ll be the one picking him up from school and hanging out with him until I get home. You’ve made a big impact on him, baby, on all of us.”

You smile again, a blush forming on your face as you take in his words. “Thanks,” you whisper, then you realize that he just called you baby, and now you’re flustered all over again but for an entirely different reason. 

He responds by kissing your forehead again. “I want to take you out,” he says and you raise your brows.

“Like…on a date?”

“Yeah,” he grins down at you. “On a date. I don’t know where we’d go, but I think we both need a break from this house. Maybe I can show you around the city? Since you’re so good at reading directions.”

“Hey,” you laugh and lightly slap his shoulder. “My inability to read directions is what led us to meeting. So, really, you should be glad that I rarely know where I’m going half the time.”

Clay laughed, too, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Believe me,” he murmured against your mouth. “I’m glad.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen icons #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford #clay beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagine #awake 2007 #awake #in the way i need you series #in the way i need you

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In The Way I Need You | Part 5

Series Masterlist

➪in which you spend the night with the beresfords, and once joey is asleep, you discover that your crush on clay may not be entirely one-sided.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 7.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic was so bad today, the taxi driver gave me dirty looks the whole ride here,” you say as you quickly enter Clay’s house. You had an overnight bag thrown over your shoulder and he didn’t know why the sight made him so happy, but he was smiling when you added, “I got this for Joey. I saw he didn’t have it in his growing collection.”

You lift your hand and reveal the book Oh, the Places You’ll Go! by Doctor Seuss. Clay’s smile grew at that as he took it from you. “You didn’t need to get him anything,” he said, still grateful for it nonetheless.

“I know,” you say with a shy smile as you shrug off your jacket. “I wanted to.”

Clay takes your jacket from you as he says, “Thank you. He’ll love it,” he hangs it up on a hook before guiding you upstairs. “Actually, he’ll probably want you to read it to him instead of me.”

You shake your head as you ascend the stairs. “I don’t think that’s true. You’re his best friend, after all,”

“I think you’re underestimating how attached that kid has grown to you,” Clay laughs as you both enter the living room. “I tried reading to him earlier and he said I don’t read as good as his babysitter does.” 

You gasp and laugh, too. “He did not,” 

“He did,” was all he was able to say before Joey finally caught sight of you.

“Y/n!” He said, excitement lacing his voice as he slid off the couch and ran over to you. He mispronounces your name again, but you adored the way he said it so you don’t bother correcting him. “Hi!”

You grin at him and drop your bag in order to pick him up. “Hi, buddy,”

Joey looks between you and his dad and he knew he was probably wondering why you were here when it wasn’t a school day. “Remember I told you Y/n was going to stay with us while grandma is away?” Joey nods and he continues. “She’ll be here all night and is going to get you ready for school tomorrow.”

His eyes light up as he hugs you. “All night?” He asked, his excitement to have you here for multiple days at a time radiating from his little body. 

“All night,” you confirm, looking over at Clay as Joey hugs you again. 

-

“I went out this morning and got you your diet coke,” Clay announced as he leaned back in his chair at the dining room table. He was wearing more casual clothing, casual being a white tee and khakis, and to see him not wear a suit or tie for the first time since meeting him had you feeling a bit lightheaded. “The shelves on the fridge door are all yours.”

You smile at him as you finish your pasta. “Thank you,” you say as you also lean back. “You didn’t have to do that, though. I’d be happy to just bring something with me whenever I’m here.”

Clay shook his head as he looked over at Joey, who was sitting beside him. “You take care of this guy while I’m at work, and I know how hard that can be. It’s the least I can do,” he joked and the messy smile his son gave him had your own growing. 

“All done,” he says as he pushes away his plate. “Can I go play now?” 

Clay nods and helps him down from the chair, watching as he runs around the table and out of the room. He shakes his head as you laugh quietly and stand up, collecting the dishes as you do so. “Oh, you don’t have to clean up, you’re a guest,” he tried to take them from you but you dodge his hand with a playful grin. 

“I don’t mind,” you say as you carry them into the kitchen. “You bought me my diet coke, after all. It’s the least I can do.”

Clay laughed as he followed you. “As fun as it is, you got to stop thinking you owe me something after I do the bare minimum for you,” 

You set the plates and forks down into the sink and turn to him. “I could say the same thing to you,” you tease with a raised brow and he turns away after realizing you made a good point. “That’s what I thought.”

You face the sink again and turn the water on, feeling him still looming behind you. 

Glancing back at him, you offer, “How about I wash and you dry? It’ll get done quicker that way,”

“Sure,” he says as he walks over to you. “But on one condition.”

You look up at him as he stands right next to you. He was so close you could smell his cologne and the scent made you feel the smallest bit dizzy. “What is it?” You ask after a few seconds, finally able to find your voice again after zoning out a bit. 

He leans in and takes a plate from you. You hadn’t been this close to him since the night you thought you were being given the chance to kiss him, but then got the message quickly when he pulled away before anything happened. He wasn’t pulling away now, though, and you felt lightheaded again. “You watch a kids movie with Joey and I,” he requested and you laughed, turning back to the sink as you washed another plate.

“You’re pushing your luck with that one,” you joked back as he laughed under his breath and set the dry plate aside before taking another one from you.

Half an hour later you were sitting beside Clay on the couch watching The Lion King. Joey was perched on his lap as he stared up at the screen with his big blue eyes as if it was the coolest movie he had ever seen. You supposed it was. It’s one of your favorites, as well, so you were quite happy with the selection. 

 Of course you cried when Mufasa died, and while Clay held back his laughs, Joey reached out and took your hand in his much smaller one, and you cried a bit harder at that because how a four year old could be this sweet was beyond your comprehension. 

Popcorn was scattered around the carpet as the movie ended and the credits rolled. Joey had fallen asleep during the last few scenes, and had migrated half his body onto your lap. “God, Clay, your kid is cute,” you say quietly as you run your fingers gently through Joey’s light hair.

Clay smiled over at you, running his hand up and down his son’s back. “He gets it from his mom,” 

You lean over so your lips are close to the side of his head, your hand moving down to cover Joey’s ear. “Bullshit,” you whisper, grinning at the laugh that escapes Clay. “He’s a spitting image of his dad.”

His face flushed a bit and he had to look away, instead focusing his attention on Joey. “You’re sweet,” he said to you as he picked him up, careful not to wake him. You blushed a bit as you watched him stand up. “I’m going to go put him to bed. Are you down for another movie? Preferably one not made for four year olds? Or are you too tired?”

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms. “The Lion King is not for four year olds,” you defend your comfort movie, getting another laugh out of Clay. “And you’re the parent here, old man. Are you sure you’re not too tired?”

Clay shook his head, tightening his hold on Joey as he walked away from the couch. “Old man, huh?”

“The oldest,” you say as he glances back at you.

“Just pick another movie,”

He headed upstairs while you browsed through his movie collection, noting that even though he is still in his twenties, he had the film taste of a dad in the eighties. 

Star Wars Episode VI, Legends of the Fall, Braveheart, The Outsiders, Uncle Buck, Ghostbusters.

Jesus Christ. 

You grab The Outsiders and sit back down on the couch, picking through the kernels in the bowl as you wait for Clay to return. 

-

“Want me to make some more?” Clay asked once he came back downstairs and entered the living room. 

You hold the bowl out to him with a sheepish smile. “Since you’re offering,”

He takes it from you and walks into the kitchen, making sure to grab you a diet coke once the bowl is full again. Clay hands you the can before sitting next to you, much closer than before, and sets the bowl on his lap. “What’d you pick?” He asked just as the long opening credits of The Outsiders appeared on the screen. 

“It’s one of my favorites,” you smile your pretty smile at him and steal a few pieces of popcorn, setting the diet coke aside. 

“Yeah?” He hummed as he gathered a couple pieces in his own hand. “Have you read the book?”

You give him an unimpressed look and answer as you chew, “Of course I’ve read the book,” 

The way you said it made it sound like that was the most obvious answer in the world, and Clay laughed as he tilted his head back to drop the popcorn into his mouth. He could feel your eyes on him the whole time, and when he looked at you and caught you staring, his smile grew at the way your face flushed. 

You were so cute, and this was beginning to feel like a date rather than two adults hanging out on a professional level. 

Would it really be so bad? Maybe it was time for Clay to forget about Sam and how she left both him and Joey and never looked back. Maybe it was time for him to move on and close that chapter of his life. Really, how bad could it be?

You look away and stare at the screen just as the drawn out credits finally wrap up, and Clay knew he should be focusing on the movie, but how could he when his mind was consumed with thoughts of you? 

Halfway through the movie, the popcorn was eaten and you had moved a bit closer to him. Your hand was inches from his thigh as you gazed at the TV, your index finger tracing random shapes on the cushion. 

Clay could not focus on anything other than the fact that he wanted to take your hand in his and how he wanted to be holding you right now. 

God, was he always like this? Was he always this desperate for affection and touch? Had he really gone that long without it? 

He felt a bit pathetic as he tore his eyes off your hand and tried to pay attention to the movie. Sitting through The Lion King was a lot easier as he had Joey there to break the tension, but now that Clay is alone with you, he felt a bit on edge. 

He was so close to you, he could smell your sweet perfume and hear every breath you took. 

Maybe he was imagining it, but Clay was sure you were slowly moving even closer to him. The amount of will-power he had to use to not take you into his arms in that second was insane. Maybe he is stronger than he thought. 

As casually as he could, Clay lifted his arm and draped it across the back of the couch, and he knew he wasn’t imagining the small smile that formed on your lips as he did so. 

His attention was completely off the movie at this point, and it seemed like yours was slipping away from it as well as you boldly inched even closer to him until your back was pressed against his side, and your arm was draped over his lap. He laughed as he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

He knew you were smiling as you said, “Very,”

And you stayed like that for the rest of the movie. The back of your head was resting against his chest as the end credits began rolling and now he was wishing that the movie went on for a bit longer so he could sit with you like this for a few more minutes. 

He could smell the coconut scented conditioner you used and he knew he could easily become addicted to it, like he was beginning to become addicted to your vanilla perfume. 

A few seconds pass before you sit up but stay close to him, and when you turned your head and looked up at him, he didn’t move away. He didn’t give you the wrong idea like he did last time. He wouldn’t.

Your eyes stay fixated on his as you lean in a bit, and Clay was powerless to stop his hand from moving to gently caress the side of your head. “I’m not the only one feeling this,” he murmured. “Please, tell me I’m not the only one feeling this.”

This should feel wrong. You were just here to look after his kid, not satisfy his need for affection and his desire to be wanted.

But as you shook your head and gave him a small, barely-there smile, he didn’t care about anything else. 

It didn’t feel wrong at all, so why should he put a stop to it?

“You’re not,” you say back, just as quietly, reaching up and placing a gentle but firm hand on the side of his neck. “I feel it, too.”

Clay’s breath hitched in his throat as you brushed your nose against his, your lips not quite touching yet but still making his head spin just a bit. 

“Since the first day,” you added and the amount of happiness that filled him was too much to describe. He hadn’t been imagining all of this, the spark he felt was there for you, too. All the times he caught himself feeling guilty for pining over you weren’t in vain. 

“We shouldn’t,” he regretfully said, giving you an out. He was the older one out of the two of you, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel pressured into doing or saying anything you didn’t really want to. 

A smile formed on your lips. “We really shouldn’t,” you agreed before you were both closing the distance and connecting your lips. 

It was a light pressure at first, with both you and Clay testing each other and seeing if you had crossed a line. When he moved closer to you and kissed you a bit harder, you didn’t stop him and instead returned the kiss with a sense of need he had never felt before, not even with his own wife. 

It didn’t feel rushed with you. Didn’t feel forced. 

After pressing another chaste kiss to his lips, you pull away. Slowly, your eyes open and meet his own, and you both wear matching, dumb grins. “Sorry,” Clay whispered and you shook your head.

“Sorry,” you repeated as you stood up. “It’s late, I should go to bed.”

He nodded, sitting up and taking your hand in his. You share a knowing look as his thumb traces various shapes onto the back of your hand, and he knew that you both wanted to do that again, but were trying to have some self control. 

With a final squeeze, he lets you go and watches as you turn and head towards the stairs, glancing back at him once before you were out of his sight. 

-

You ended up tossing and turning all night long and probably got no more than a couple hours of sleep. 

Your body was on fire and full of energy after the kiss you shared with Clay on his living room couch, and you couldn’t shut your mind off if you tried.

Since the day you talked to him on the sidewalk not too long ago, you’ve wanted him. Bad. And he all but confirmed he wanted you, too, how were you supposed to sleep after that?

The next morning you were up before the sun began to seep into the guest room. If you could even call this a guest room. It was massive, much like how Lilith’s master bedroom is, and you found yourself not wanting to return back to your small apartment once she came back home. 

You dress yourself in jeans and a tank top before leaving the room, pinning back your messy hair as you poked your head into Joey’s room. He was awake and looking up at the stickers that were stuck to the ceiling, his fingers playing with the hem of his sheets. Then he was looking over at you and smiling. “Hi, buddy,” you greet him as you enter his room. 

“Y/n,” he said back and you grinned at the fact that he was already getting better at pronouncing your name. “Where is my dad?”

His dad. Your boss. The very man you kissed last night.

You picked him up when he lifted his arms. “I think he’s still sleeping,” you answer, holding him against your side as you walk over to his dresser. “Want me to help you get ready for school?” 

He nodded and you were able to grab his shirt and pants with one hand before setting him down onto the carpet and helping him get dressed. After that you take him downstairs and sit him at the table before heading into the kitchen and looking for something for him to eat. 

When you spot the strawberries and cream, you look over at the toddler and give him a smile. “Joey, do you want some strawberries?” You asked and watched as he lit up and nodded a few times. 

You slice them up into smaller pieces and place them into a bowl before adding the cream and setting it down in front of him. Joey’s blue eyes widen before he takes the spoon from you and goes to town on the bowl.

Laughing, you make two more bowls of it, keeping an eye on Joey from your place in the kitchen. Your back was pressed against the counter as Clay walked in, and the small smirk he wore once he saw you left you feeling reassured that last night was definitely not a mistake. 

He wasn’t dressed yet, his body being covered by a sinful pair of grey sweats and a white tee. It felt so casual, so normal, to get to see him during the early hours of the morning before he changed into more presentable clothing and completely woke up.

You stay still and watch as he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Joey’s head before he is making his way over to you. Keeping the bowl pressed to your chest, you pause your chewing when he stands a few inches away from you, his hands at his sides and a teasing glint in his eyes. “Hi,”

“Hi,” he says back, leaning in and gently bumping your nose with his own, and the simple action had your heart beating loudly in your chest. It didn’t go further than that as he pulled away but stayed close to you. “You have a good sleep?”

“Oh, the best,” you answer, swallowing after as you turn and grab the other bowl. “I made you breakfast.”

Clay looks down at the bowl before taking it from you with a boyish grin on his lips. “You made me breakfast?”

Nodding, you watch as he takes a strawberry between his teeth before promptly looking away as you feel heat rush to your face. 

God, he is hot. 

What are you doing? You should not be this turned on when you’re supposed to be getting his kid ready for school. 

Setting your bowl down, you avoid eye contact with Clay as you move around him, still feeling his gaze on you by the time you’ve made your way to Joey. “Do you need me to take Joey to school?” 

Clay leans against the counter as he eats, the open concept of both the kitchen and dining room giving him the perfect view of you and his kid. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you answer, smoothing out Joey’s hair.

“Great, you can ride with Rick,” he says as he places the bowl in the sink. 

You furrow your brows, taking the spoon and bowl from Joey when he handed them to you. “How will you get to work?” You asked as you made your way back into the kitchen. 

“Would it sound too privileged to say that I have more than one driver?” He asked with a grin as he stayed still, making you have to reach around him to place the bowl in the sink.

“Yes,” you say as you stand up straight. “Extremely privileged.”

Clay laughed under his breath, crossing his arms. “I’ll take a cab,” he answered your question from before, and his words were surprising. 

“You’re gonna take a cab?” 

Clay, too, stood up straight. “Why is that so surprising to you?” He asked, smirking a bit afterwards. 

You glance back at Joey, who was distracted by the coloring book you placed on the table last night, as you step closer to Clay. “I don’t know,” you mumble, looking back at him. “I don’t know why I keep assuming you’re some stuck up rich guy who wouldn’t be caught dead in a car that isn’t one of his own. You’re different, Clay.”

His smirk turns into a soft grin as he drops his arms, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “Different how?”

Your face heats up a bit as you shrug, placing your hands flat on his chest. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you say, “You’re nice,” you pathetically answer, not being able to fight off the nervous smile that takes over your lips. 

“Nice?” He smirks again, bunching up your tank top in his hands. “That’s it?”

You shrug again, unsure of what the boundaries are at the moment. “You’re not stuck up, you’re polite, you walk me to the door every time I go to leave,”

“That’s the bare minimum,” he brushed off his own actions, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “You’re pretty.”

Blushing heavily, you break eye contact and look back at Joey. “I should get him to school,”

You go to pull away but he gently wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you back to him. “Did I overstep with that one?”

He looked so genuine and a bit worried, further proving that he is more than just a decent guy. He is sweet and kind and can become so lost inside his own head when he thinks he messed up. He’s perfect, and that scares you. “No,” you shake your head, lacing your fingers together in hopes to reassure him. “You just….you make me feel things. Good things, I promise.”

Clay’s thumb traced random shapes onto the back of your hand before he nodded, loosening his grip on you. “Okay,” he gave your hand a final squeeze before he pulled away completely and walked over to J oey. He hugged him quickly and kissed the top of his head, glancing over at you as he headed towards the door. “See you later, pretty girl.”

Your face flushed for the tenth time since you woke up and you had to take a second to compose yourself, listening to Clay’s footsteps fade up the stairs. You clear your throat, smiling over at the four year old who was oblivious to the flirting that had just taken place in the kitchen. 

-

“Morning, Mr. Beresford,” Clay was greeted as he entered the floor that held his office. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” he answered, smiling at the man before walking past him and down the hall. He passed multiple offices, the walls being made of glass and not providing much privacy. That was his mothers idea, not his, and he stands by the fact that he doesn’t care to see into his employees workspaces to ensure they’re not slacking off, but she did. 

When Clay made it to his own office, these walls not being see-through, he closed the door and tossed his bag onto his desk. He stands behind it, pulling at the tie around his neck that he still wasn’t able to tie on his own. Sam always tied it for him, but now that she was gone he had to do it himself, and he did a really bang up job of it today. It looked awful, and he knew he needed to learn how to properly tie one soon. 

He looked out the window and at the city of New York, a small smile tugging at his lips. His friend, Jack, would tell him that he owned half this city, as if he wasn’t aware of that fact. For some reason Jack liked to do Clay’s bragging for him, seeing as he wasn’t one to brag much to begin with. Well, he wasn’t much of a bragger before Joey was born, now Clay proudly shows off just how amazing his kid is. 

He even bragged about him to you during your first conversation. 

The memory of that made Clay laugh as he sat down behind the desk, throwing off his tie as he reached for his phone. 

Joey’s Sitter: Just got back from dropping Joey off at school. Props to Rick for getting us there on time. You should give him a raise. 

Clay laughed again, reaching over with his free hand to turn on his computer as he typed out a reply to you. 

I’ll think about it. What are you up to now? Any plans for the day?

He sets his phone down as he enters the password for his computer. Almost instantly he was met with countless emails, the topics ranging from meetings to updates on his placement on the transplant list. 

The whole thing stressed him out, much like how it did back when he was just eighteen years old and thrown into the CEO lifestyle, and he looked back at his phone, where a text from you calmed him down a bit.

Joey’s Sitter: Not a thing planned…I was actually going to ask if I could tidy up your mansion, I mean your house. I didn’t get to clean the dishes before taking Joey to school, so I’ll start there. 

You reminded him a bit of Jack, but instead of bragging about his possessions, you teased him about it. It was a nice change, and something you had been doing since the day he met you. 

Unsurprisingly, his mind went back to Sam and how he so blindly missed all the signs she gave that showed she was just after his money. She never brought her wallet with her whenever the two of them went out, and then proceeded to fill her arms with things that Clay would end up buying for her. She claimed she forgot to bring her money, and that she appreciated his generosity, and that was that. 

She also failed to remember that she is a mother and is required to pay child support payments since she was the one to walk out, but he hasn’t seen a single cent from her since she left. Not that he’d accept anything from her, anyway.

You were so different from her. Yeah, you are six years younger than her, but you are far more mature than she ever was. 

Clay hadn’t even called her in days as he was too preoccupied sorting his life out. It was about time he did that, and he was proud of himself for not leaving her yet another pointless voicemail in almost a week.

Please, feel free, but don’t feel obligated. 

He replied to you before clicking on the first email, which was just a request for a meeting with both him and his mom. 

Joey’s Sitter: Cleaning is like therapy to me, Clay. I’m happy to do it. I noticed you’re a bit behind on laundry. Permission to do that, too?

Clay felt a bit embarrassed about that one. His mom was usually the one who is on top of the laundry, and she’s only been gone a couple days and it was already starting to pile up. 

Go for it.

He sent that then realized he will have to pay you for it. 

Oh, God, he’s supposed to be paying you right now since you’re looking after his kid. 

Fuck.

How is he supposed to pay you after kissing you last night and flirting with you this morning? You’d probably feel so cheap and used if he were to hand you the money you rightfully earned for babysitting Joey and getting him ready for school, but he couldn’t not pay you, either. He is your only source of income, as far as he knew, and he was quickly reminded of all the warnings he gave himself about pursuing something with you.

He knew he should’ve kept things professional, but he really didn’t want to. He’s held off on giving himself to someone in the way he did with Sam for too long, he was ready to get back to the dating scene. But with his son’s babysitter? That was a complicated one. 

Joey’s Sitter: I’m gonna have to go into your room to put your laundry away, is that okay?

That’s alright, just ignore the mess. Please. I’m working on it.

He typed out and sent his reply to you without thinking much of it, his overworked brain feeling like it had been sent into overdrive already. Clay had stressed himself out by thinking about you and what you and he currently are and how he should end things before they got too far, but as he looked down and read your text,

Joey’s Sitter: I won’t tell anyone that you’re just like any other twenty something year old guy who has questionable cleaning habits. Maybe. 

he suddenly didn’t care much about the quiet voice that was telling him to stop pursuing whatever it was that is between him and you. 

-

You balance the basket in your left hand as you use your right one to open Clay’s bedroom door. You knew you would feel like you were intruding had you not asked him beforehand, and his concerns about his supposedly messy room had you curious to see if it was as bad as he says it is.

It really wasn’t. 

The door swings open and the only thing that caught your attention was the fact that his bed wasn’t made. Sure, there were a few pieces of clothes strewn around the room and the drawers of his dresser were half open, but it was nowhere near as bad as you thought it’d be. 

You also found his boyish messiness attractive, and you were convinced that you would soon find everything about Clay attractive. And you weren’t even gonna mention the fact that his room smelled exactly like his cologne and how you felt a bit lightheaded as you took a step forward. 

Setting the basket on the bed, you walk over to the dresser and pull open the first drawer. Soon enough the basket was empty and as you picked it back up, you debated on whether or not you would be overstepping if you were to make his bed. 

You kissed last night and almost did again a few hours ago, so you were sure you were past that point, and you also didn’t want to keep texting him while he was at work just to ask. 

So, you put all the clothing that was around the room in the basket and quickly made his bed. On your way to the door, you pass his desk and see a picture of him and Joey in what looked like a hospital room. Joey couldn’t have been older than a few days, and Clay looked a bit younger than he did now. He was holding Joey close to his chest, his hand looking even bigger as it caressed the back of his son’s head. 

The framed picture had your heart swelling, as did the small grin Clay wore. 

How did you get this lucky to have them both in your life? Sure, it wasn’t anything long-term right now, but it didn’t matter. Joey had already stolen your heart, and Clay wasn’t very far behind. 

You look away and head towards the door, closing it quietly behind you despite you being the only person in the house. You kind of wanted to explore his room a bit more, but held off and hoped that he could give you a proper tour of it one day.

After setting the laundry basket down on top of the washing machine, you leave the room and make your way towards the guest room. The view from the window was amazing, and even better at night. You were too giddy to pay much attention to it last night, after kissing the guy you’ve been crushing hard on since the day you met him. 

You sit down on the queen sized bed, the soft, dark teal comforter inviting you to lay back. You do, your head settling against the pillow as you look off to the right and at the tall buildings that make up New York. 

You were pining over Clay, hard, and you got the smallest indication that he was feeling the same last night. But you have no idea if he is serious about you. Maybe he just thinks you’re an easy lay. God, that would probably crush you if he thinks that. 

Even though you were nearing the young age of twenty one, you quickly found yourself loving the domestic lifestyle most people don’t get to experience until their late twenties or early thirties. 

Really, you shouldn’t want to become a mother at your age, not when you haven’t even figured out what you want to do with your life, but getting the chance to see both Joey and Clay every single day felt like a dream. You wanted it, you wanted Clay to be serious about you, and you wanted Joey to feel safe and comfortable around you all the time. 

Had you told yourself back when you first moved to New York that you would be wishing you were part of this small family, you would’ve laughed. You didn’t even have a good relationship with your own family, hence why you’re living by yourself in a massive city, so you didn’t have much experience with a normal-functioning family like the Beresfords. 

Well, maybe they weren’t normal; they have loads of money, high paying jobs, and you were sure they owned multiple buildings and properties in the area. Still, Clay treated you like just another person. He wasn’t the typical stuck up rich guy who looks down on others just because he is wealthy, and that alone had you falling for him on the first day you met him.

Would he ever see you in that way? Could he? 

You turn over and hold a spare pillow to your chest, wondering what was going to come from this as you waited for the hours to pass until you had to go get Joey. 

You woke up to the sound of your phone going off a few hours later, and you smiled when you saw who had texted you. 

Clay Beresford: Won’t be home until later tonight. I’ll have my phone on me the whole time so if you need something, just call.

You sit up, tossing the pillow aside as you rub your eyes with your free hand, using your other to text him back.

No worries. Have a good night, Mr. Businessman. 

Sometimes you worried that you were being too forward with him, but he never seemed to mind it, which is why you keep doing it. It felt normal to tease each other back and forth over text, and now that you were progressing to teasing each other in real life, it only added fuel to the fire building within you. 

You got up from the bed after realizing that it was nearing three in the afternoon and you had to leave to pick up Joey. Well, Rick is picking up Joey, you’re just there for the ride until you return back to Clay’s home. 

When you do arrive back home, you give Joey a piggyback ride up the stairs and sit down on the couch with him. He crawls onto your lap as you set his schoolbag down and rummage through the new sheets that were in it. 

You pull out a piece of paper that had today’s date written on it and your eyes widen a bit at the scene on it. In the middle of the page was a small figure that had ‘ME’ written above it in messy writing, and to the left of that figure was a bigger one, this one being labeled ‘DADDY’. It was obviously a drawing of Clay and Joey that he had done today at school, but what was a bit surprising was the third figure.

On Joey’s right side was another person with your hair color and something that resembled the outfit you wore yesterday, which was a simple black tee and jeans. Above it was the word ‘SITTER’. You bite down harshly on your lip before asking, “Joey, did you draw this today?”

You knew the answer, but wanted to hear him say it anyway. “Yeah,” he confirmed what you already knew. “It’s me, daddy and you. See.” He pointed to each figure and you realized that both you and Clay are holding Joey’s hands. 

Your eyes burned a bit as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. “You’re sweet,” you tell him what you’ve been calling him since the first day you babysat him. “You’re so sweet, buddy. I love it.” You take the drawing from him and further inspect it. He even got your eye color right, and that had you blinking quickly as you set him aside on the cushion before standing up. 

Joey looked up at you, his big blue eyes a copy of his dad’s. “I’m hungry,”

You laugh, ruffling his hair a bit. “Okay, we can have an early dinner tonight. Daddy won’t be home until later,” you say as you begin to walk towards the doorway. Once you are in the kitchen, you immediately put the drawing on the fridge after looking at it for a good two minutes. 

Joey wasn’t aware of just how fucking cute he is, you’re sure of it. And seeing yourself, although in a drawing, with the two of them had your mind mixed up in a frenzy. 

You wanted this everyday, you wanted both of them. 

And, when Clay returns home later, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep your hands off him. 

-

Clay shuts the door behind him before practically bolting up the stairs, his bag slipping from his shoulder and landing on the floor once he reached the top. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he missed Joey a lot today, and he also found himself missing you. He had gotten a taste of you last night and now he is beginning to think he will never get enough. 

He also wanted to talk to you about it and get an idea of where you’re at and what you’re thinking about in relation to what you and he did last night, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. 

Bringing his left hand up, Clay reads the time on his watch and sees that it’s nearing Joey’s bedtime. As if on cue, you walk out of the living room with a half asleep Joey in your arms and an unreadable expression on your face. “Hey,” he says, his mood lifting considerably at the sight of the two of you. 

“Hi,” you say back, pausing in the doorway. “We were just heading to bed. Did you want to take it from here?”

Joey lifted his head from your shoulder and smiled at Clay, and his heart melted at the sight. “Okay,” he agreed and took his son from you, stopping just in front of the second staircase. “I’ll meet you in the living room?”

You just nod and enter the room again, leaving Clay to hurry up the stairs. After tucking Joey in, he gives him a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind him. 

He takes the stairs two at a time on the way down and shrugs off his jacket, leaving him in just his white button up and dress pants. He never bothered putting his tie back on after taking it off as soon as he got to his office. 

Once he entered the living room and saw you waiting patiently for him on the couch, Clay made it over to you in three strides. He sat next to you, his hands aching to reach out and touch you in any way you’d allow as he stared at your pretty eyes. “We should talk about-” but he wasn’t able to finish that sentence as you leaned in and placed your hands on his shoulders, your mouths meeting in a firm kiss. 

And just like that, any and all thoughts left Clay’s head as his hands reached up and caressed either side of your face. His lips meshed against yours like they did last night, but with a lot more urgency. 

Your hands were a bit frantic as they gripped his shirt before pushing against his chest. Clay moved to lie back on the couch as you climbed on top of him, your fingers tangling in his hair once you were straddling his waist. “Is this okay?” You asked breathlessly, your eyes revealing your genuine concern, and he knew you were asking if his heart could take this much excitement at once. 

You were far too nice and your carefulness was something that was lacking in his last relationship. He never felt this cared for before from someone other than his mother, and he was kissing you again before he knew it. 

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he answered when he felt that you weren’t kissing him back, and when you smiled at his words, you gently traced your thumb along his jaw before kissing him again. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you say in between kisses, but show no signs of stopping. And he really didn’t want you to. 

His hands grip your waist tightly and pull your body right against his own. “We shouldn’t,” he agreed and you pulled away with a big grin on your face that he was sure matched his own. 

You blush a bit and he notes that he’s quite good at getting you to do that without really trying to. “I’m really glad we agree on that,” you mumble before giving him a final chaste kiss. His hands slide down your jean covered thighs as you sit up and bunch up his shirt in your fingers. “Can we have another movie night?” 

Clay nods instantly, and he was sure he would say yes to anything you asked him right now. He felt like he was on cloud nine, with the prettiest woman he had ever seen sitting on top of him like he was your throne. You had kissed him again. You wanted this as much as he did. 

You smile at him before getting up and walking towards his DVD collection. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care,” and he really didn’t. He wasn’t paying much attention to the movie you put in the DVD player as he opened his arms and gestured for you to lay with him.

You do so with a blush coating your face, pressing your back to his chest as you settle against him. Clay wraps his arms around you and laces your fingers together as he tries to calm his racing heart. 

He couldn’t believe you had this much of an affect on him, but here you are, tucked protectively in his arms as you stared up at the screen. 

Clay couldn’t remember the last time he felt this content, this carefree. All the stress he had felt throughout the day and all the questions he had planned on asking you were dissolving by the second, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep. 

It was clear that you did, too, because the next time Clay opened his eyes, he was staring at the menu screen of the movie before his gaze drifted further to the right, where he meets the cold stare of his mother, who did not look pleased to see you and him wrapped up in each other’s arms at all.

#clayton beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagine #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen icons #in the way i need you series #in the way i need you #awake 2007 #awake

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 6

Series Masterlist

➪in which clay messes things up after he regretfully lies to his mother about his intentions with you, and you decide to start looking for another job.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.9k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

In the twenty seven years he’s known his mother, Clay had never seen her this angry.

Well, except for the time Sam walked out, but this was a close second behind that.

Lilith Beresford, in all her glory, stood in front of the couch, home a mere day and a half earlier than she said she’d be. She towered over the two of you, and Clay quickly discovered that you hadn’t woken up yet when he glanced down and saw you still peacefully sleeping against his side. 

Clay couldn’t even have a second to take in how cute you looked all cuddled up with him before he was sitting up a bit. “Mother,” he greeted in a surprised tone, making her raise her brow. “You’re home early.”

“I am,” she said before reaching down and tapping your shoulder. 

You stir a bit and open your eyes, instantly looking up at Clay with a tired smile. Then you looked over and, too, noticed his mom. “Mrs. Beresford,” you sit up immediately and put a cushion of space between you and Clay. “I didn’t know you were coming home today.”

His mother smiled down at you, and Clay knew that smile like the back of his hand. It was her pissed off smile. “I got everything I needed out of my trip,” she replied. “Would you mind giving me and my son a minute alone?”

You scratch at your jaw and look over at Clay with an uneasy expression. “Of course not,” you answer and stand up. “I’ll go wake Joey up and get him ready for school.”

“No need,” she stopped you before you could leave the room. “I’ll be home all day, so we won’t need your services.”

She was being so cold to you and Clay wanted to say something but had no idea where to start. His heart ached a bit when you gave him a look that practically begged him for help, but he stayed silent. “Okay,” you murmur, giving her a forced smile. “I’ll just go pack then.”

“Okay,” his mother said before she turned back to face him. 

“Mom-” he tried but she held up her hand and waited until you were out of the room and up the stairs before she dropped her act. 

“Clayton, have you lost your mind?” She asked loudly, clearly not caring much about the fact that you could still probably hear her. “Don’t you remember the last time you slept with the help?”

Clay glared at her as he braced his elbows on his knees. “It wasn’t like that,”

“Oh, well, I sure hope not,” she rasped. “Samantha left you all alone with a boy who wasn’t even six months old yet, do you remember that? And now I find you sleeping with the nanny.”

“She’s not the nanny, God, mother, would you drop it?” He muttered and dropped his gaze. “And we weren’t sleeping together. Not like that, anyway.”

Lilith crossed her arms. “Don’t act all innocent, Clay, damnit. What were you doing with her?”

“We just fell asleep!” He loudly answered as he stood up. “That’s it. We were watching a movie together then fell asleep, that’s all. She’s twenty, mother, what do you think could happen there?” He hated the words that were currently leaving his mouth, but he wasn’t ready to have his mother control another relationship of his.

He wasn’t even being truthful, not at all, but he needed to get her off his back. Clay had just begun whatever this is with you, and you needed to have a proper conversation about it before he was able to let himself reveal that he had feelings for you to his overprotective and sometimes overbearing mom. 

Lilith narrowed her gaze, and he knew she wasn’t really buying it. “Don’t lie to me, Clay. I mean it,” 

He took a breath as he felt his heartbeat quicken a bit, and when he met her eyes again he could see the concern in them. “I’m not lying, mother,” he says, surprised at how calm he sounded. “I promise. That will never happen again. Nothing is going on between Y/n and I.” 

As soon as those words left his mouth, you poked your head into the living room, an unreadable expression on your face as you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I’m heading out,” you told them, your gaze cold and hard. “Mr. Beresford, your son is up. He’s asking for you.”

Even your tone was cold, and Clay had a horrible feeling that you had heard what he said. “Okay,” he quickly responded, walking around his mom and towards you. “I’ll walk you to the door.” He offered, hearing Lilith clear her throat from behind him.

“Shouldn’t you be getting Joey dressed, Clay?” She asked, and when he turned to face her once he was next to you, he saw that her annoyed expression had returned as she crossed her arms.

He opened his mouth to respond but wasn’t able to say anything before you turned around and headed for the stairs. “I’ll only be a minute,” he spoke quickly before following after you. “Y/n-”

“Thank you for letting me stay at your house, Mr. Beresford,” you cut him off as you descended the stairs with him right behind you. “I hope I helped you out a bit while your mother was away.”

Clay’s brows furrowed as you both reached the bottom. “That’s not…you know you did- Y/n, wait,” he rasped and gently took your wrist in his hand, turning you to face him. “I’m sorry about what I said. I don’t know how much you heard, but-”

“I didn’t hear anything,” you lied, shaking your wrist free and putting a few steps of distance between you. He wanted to close the space again, but the look you were currently giving him had him refraining from doing so. “Are we done here?”

Clay looked at you for a few more seconds before nodding, not at all being done here but understanding that you didn’t want to be around him right now. He broke eye contact and reached into his pocket, guilty pulling out his wallet. “Here, I’ll pay you extra-”

“No need,” you brushed him off. Jesus, he probably just made you feel like an escort or something. Could he fuck this up any more than he already has? “Just save it for next time.”

So there will be a next time. “Okay,” he hesitantly agreed, adding, “Can you pick him up from school tomorrow?”

You nod quickly and he could see the way your eyes watered with unshed tears. Fuck, he felt like a complete asshole. “Sure,” 

You open the door but before you could step out, he stops you again with his hand on the frame. “Y/n,” he called softly, but you didn’t look at him. He didn’t blame you. With a sigh, he asked, “Let me know you got home okay?”

It was the early morning and probably the safest the streets could be, but he still wanted to know that you had made it home. “Okay,” you answer and leave the house the second he takes his hand off the door and allows you to open it. 

Clay stands there and watches as you begin to walk down the street instead of calling for a cab, and he knew you probably needed the walk to clear your head. He had no idea how far away you lived from him, but he still wouldn’t feel any better if he did know, anyway. 

He looked down at his wrinkled button up and huffed, closing the door with more force than he needed to before heading upstairs and walking right past the living room, where his mother still stood. 

-

Your face burned in embarrassment as you let your apartment door slam shut. Your eyes stung from the tears you held back during the entire thirty minute walk home from Clay’s place. 

You should have never kissed him. You should have never let yourself get so close to him. He didn’t want you. He thought you were too young and immature for him. He didn’t want you. 

You drop your bag onto the carpet in the entryway as you press the heels of your hands against your eyes. What was wrong with you? Why did you ever think for a second that this guy - who clearly has his life figured out - would ever want you as something more than a fling? He has a kid, for fucks sake.

Humiliation takes over your body as you make your way to your bedroom. You toss your phone onto your dresser and fall onto your bed, your face pressed against your pillow as the tears finally leave your eyes. 

Things should have never escalated past a professional relationship, and now you were left stuck in the most awkward situation ever. You were his kid’s babysitter and had indulged in a heated makeout with him on his couch, then fell asleep on him an hour or so later. 

Why did you kiss him? Twice? Why didn’t he stop you? 

If he didn’t want anything to happen with you, why did he let things go that far? 

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly as you thought about how you were supposed to act like he hadn’t totally crushed you with his words when you babysit Joey tomorrow? How were you supposed to face him after that?

He was right, you’re just a child compared to him. Someone who has no idea what she wants to do with her life and someone who had no business trying to pursue something with her employer. 

God, you are so embarrassed.

You weren’t sure how long you cried for, but when you woke up a few hours later you wanted to cry again at how pathetic you felt. You had literally just cried yourself to sleep over a guy. You hadn’t done that since you were seventeen and were sure that your boyfriend at the time was the fucking love of your life, when in reality he was just an immature teenager. You were sure you looked similar to that in Clay’s eyes. 

Your phone going off from where you left it on your dresser makes you jump slightly, and you have just enough self control to wait until it goes to voicemail before you push yourself up and make your way to it. 

As you unlock it, you are met with a few unread texts and a missed call from Clay, and your heart ached even further.

7:19 AM

Clay Beresford: I’m sorry about how things went before you left. I didn’t know she was coming home today, otherwise that whole thing wouldn’t have happened. 

9:23 AM

Clay Beresford: Hey, it’s been a while now and you haven’t let me know you got home yet. Just checking in.

10:01 AM

Clay Beresford: Please tell me you made it home okay. 

Tears gathered in your eyes again as Clay was a genuinely nice guy, he just simply didn’t want you in the same way you want him. You’d have to get over him, and you could only hope that happened as quickly as it started. 

You inhale sharply as you text him back.

Sorry, I fell asleep as soon as I got home. Don’t worry about it. See you tomorrow. 

You turn your phone off after that and set it aside as you sit down at your small kitchen table and open your laptop. While you planned on getting over your crush on Clay, you still knew you wouldn’t be able to work for him for much longer, so with another quick inhale, you begin your search for another job. 

-

Clay fucked up, that much he knew. 

He sat at his desk at work, his eyes glued to his phone as he reread your text. You had become so short in your responses to him, both over the phone and in real life. You had called him Mr. Beresford. Multiple times. 

He tossed his phone aside as he leaned back and sighed, running his hands down his face as he heard his computer go off with another incoming email. 

It was only ten in the morning, and he was already done with the day. 

He was out of line when he was talking to his mom earlier, and had he known that you were able to hear what he was saying, he would’ve never said it. He knew his words hurt you, and he was sure he fucked up any chance with you now since he was just a coward who can’t stand up to his mom. 

You probably wouldn’t want to be with him, anyway, if you knew that he was pretty much momma’s boy. Truly, you deserve someone more mature than he was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want you. 

He really did. He hasn’t felt this way since Sam, and even then he couldn’t remember feeling like this. Clay hadn’t thought about her at all lately, and he knew it’s because of you. His mind is constantly consumed with thoughts of you and Joey, and how much his son had grown attached to you. 

If you stopped babysitting because he is a fucking idiot, it’ll break Joey’s poor heart, and that would probably break Clay’s. 

Other than Lilith and Rick, you are the only other person who was a constant in Joey’s life, and your sudden absence from it would surely be confusing for the four year old. 

Clay ended up going home early and picking Joey up from school two hours before it ended, simply because he was really the only person that brought him comfort, with the exception of you, but that was only a recent thing and he already fucked it up. 

He was on his back on the living room floor, the expensive rug making it a bit more comfortable as Joey sat on top of him and played with his stuffed bear Lilith had gotten him for his second birthday. “I miss Y/n,” he mumbled as he pulled at the blue bow the bear had around its neck.

Clay gave his son a small smile, both at his sweet words and at the way he was getting better at pronouncing your name. “I miss her, too, bub,” he said and meant it. Having you over for two nights was amazing and walking into the kitchen to see you and Joey already in there felt strangely normal. He can’t believe he fucked that up. 

It had only been a few minutes since he got home when his mom walked down stairs and stopped once she glanced into the living room and saw both her son and grandson in there. “Oh, you’re back early,” she observed, looking over at the clock as she entered the room. “It’s only one thirty.”

“I know,” Clay responded, reaching up and running his fingers through Joey’s hair. “It was a slow day.” He lied, and avoided eye contact with her since he knew he couldn’t actually lie to her. 

“Uh huh,” she said and crouched down next to them, smoothing out the mess Clay made of Joey’s hair. “You should be in school.” She said in a lighter tone, making Joey smile up at her. 

“Daddy said he missed me,” he said back. 

“Did he?” She asked, looking down at Clay with a raised brow. “I was the one who was gone for four days and you’re the one he missed? That’s not very fair, is it?” 

Joey laughs and holds the bear out to her, and she takes it with a smile. Then he got up and reached out to her with both arms, making Clay sigh as she picked him up. “I hope you aren’t still upset about this morning,” she says, holding Joey on her hip. “I warned you about that girl, Clay. The last thing we need is another Samantha Lockwood.”

Her name had Clay sitting up with a grimace. “She’s nothing like Sam, mother,” he defended you even though you weren’t here to witness it like you were this morning when he excused you as if you meant nothing. “Y/n’s nice, and she’s great with Joey. He loves her already.”

Lilith nodded with a knowing glint in her eyes, “Yes, the Beresford boys fall for people quite fast,” she replied. “Just as long as you haven’t.” She added and left the room, heading towards the kitchen with his son in her arms. 

Clay huffed as he moved to sit on the couch, taking out his phone once he was settled against the backrest. He wanted to call you and try to explain why he said what he did, but he was sure you wouldn’t understand. Or you wouldn’t care. 

He didn’t really deserve to call you right now. He deserved to wallow in the guilt for way longer than just a few hours.

You will be here when he gets home from work tomorrow. He needed to try and get you to listen to him before you left again. 

Until then he will give you space and try not to piss you off more than he has already. 

-

“Y/n!” Joey excitedly says as he runs over to you. “I missed you!”

You bend down and wrap your arms around his little body. “Hey, buddy,” you say back. “I missed you, too.”

He pulls away with a smile as his small fingers play with your bracelet. “Daddy says he misses you, too,” your own smile dropped a bit at that as you ran your hand up and down his back. 

“He did?” You ask with a forced laugh. “That’s nice, huh?” 

You stand back up and take his smaller hand in yours as you lead him towards the car. “Yeah, and he picked me up from school yesterday,” he told you, making your brows furrow a bit as you get him situated in the backseat of Rick’s car. 

He probably meant that Clay had picked him up when the day was over instead of having Lilith or Rick do it himself. Still, your forehead sported a crease the whole drive to Clay’s house at the fact that he left work early enough to be able to pick Joey up at three. 

Once you have the front door locked, you take Joey’s hand again and grab his bag with your free one as he tugs you up the stairs. You unpack his lunchbox as he snacks on the cheese and crackers you got out for him, and when you pull out his work from today your smile returns. 

He had drawn you again, but this time it was just you and him holding hands, with a teddy bear in his other one. “This is cute, Joe,” you tell him as you sit next to him at the kitchen table. 

Joey looks up and gives you a big smile as he points at it. “That’s for you,” 

Your smile falters once again as you look between him and the drawing. “For me?” 

He nods as he chews on a cracker. “I made it for you,” 

You press your lips together as you look over the drawing again, noting the little details that showed it was you. Your hair color, your eye color, the bracelet on your left wrist. It was represented by a simple black line on your wrist, but it still had you reaching over and wrapping your free arm around him. “I love it,” you say with a wavering voice. “Thank you, babe.” The name slipped out before you could even realize it, but the big grin Joey gave you afterwards had you feeling less embarrassed about it.

You had spent a good portion of your day yesterday looking for another job, but now you were dreading leaving this one. Sure, it wasn’t very ideal to consider babysitting a job, but it was your source of income for now. 

Joey was so damn cute and so nice for his young age, how could you just up and leave him? Even though he wasn’t old enough to realize that his own mother had abandoned him, the thought of being like her made your skin crawl. You couldn’t do that to him, but things with Clay were so awkward and full of tension, how could you stay after what he said about you? 

You were so embarrassed, you weren’t even sure how you were going to face him when he got home later. Maybe you could slip out quickly as soon as he entered the house? Yeah, you’ll do that. 

You sit at the table with Joey for a long time, talking about nothing and everything as you share a coloring page. Gone were the cheese and crackers, and when he looked up at you with a pouty lip, you knew he was hungry for dinner. 

Standing back up, you set the drawing aside and get started on dinner, which was a simple ground beef and pasta casserole. Joey finished it quickly and hopped off the chair, heading in direction of the living room as you put away the leftovers. 

“Daddy!” You hear him call and pause, your fingers wrapped tightly around the plastic container as Joey laughs somewhere in the hall. You look over at the clock on the stove and see that it is only six thirty. Clay was home early. 

Well, at least earlier than he had been for most of the days you’ve been babysitting Joey. 

You hear quiet footsteps near the kitchen and slowly turn, meeting Clay’s eyes as he stands in the doorway with Joey in his arms. He looked nervous as he held his son against his chest, his forearm pressed firmly against his back. “Hey,” he said cautiously. 

Turning back around, you secure the lid on the container before walking over to the fridge and putting it inside. “Hi,” you answer shortly and feel the tension start to grow. “You’re home earlier than I expected.” 

Clay sets Joey down as he says, “Yeah, I rushed through most of my meetings today,”

You nod and grab your bag from off the table, slipping the drawing inside as you do so. “Well, I guess I’ll be going now,”

“Wait,” he calls softly, gently nudging Joey in the direction of the living room as he looks at you with pleading eyes. “We should talk.”

You give him a shrug and a forced smile. “There’s nothing to talk about-”

“Yes, there is,” he cut you off and when you met his eyes again, you could see what looked like desperation in them. You break eye contact as soon as you make it and play with the strap of your bag. “Please.”

You don’t say anything as you stare at the floor, your face burning when you feel your eyes sting. 

“I’m going to go get him ready for bed,” he started, making you hesitantly glance up at him. He looked hopeful as he asked, “Will you stay? And after I put him to bed, we can talk…please? I feel awful.”  

You bite down harshly on your lip as you shift uncomfortably. With a sigh, you walk past him and towards the living room, feeling Clay follow close behind you. Joey smiled at you as you sat next to him on the couch, and when you set your bag down again on the floor, you could hear the quiet sigh of relief Clay let out. 

“Come on, bub,” he held out his hand. “Bath time.”

Joey got up and gave you a quick hug before running over to his dad and taking his much bigger hand. When Clay looked back at you as he guided Joey upstairs, all you did was give him a small, barely-there smile, and that seemed to be enough assurance for him. At least for now.

#hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen icons #clayton beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagines #clayton beresford imagine #awake 2007 #awake #in the way i need you series #in the way i need you #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars anakin

[bloatedandalone04]

Santa, Baby

➪the one where you and hayden celebrate christmas.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, rushed writing

Word Count: 1.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Merry Christmas!

The sun was barely up as Hayden slowly opened his eyes and stared at the closed curtains for a few seconds. He adjusted to the dim light that filled the room before turning over and pulling your body closer to his chest. 

It was as if his body knew what day it is as when he closed his eyes, sleep never came to him. And, after nearly six years together, Hayden is more than aware of the fact that Christmas is your favorite holiday. 

Sure, you decorated the house for Halloween and even for Easter, but he had never seen so many red and green things in his entire life before he met you. You went all out every December and kept the decorations up well into the new year as well, claiming to not be ready to take them down every single time he asked if he could start putting them away. 

While he was wide awake now, you were still sleeping peacefully in his arms, your head not resting on your pillow but instead on his bicep. You were only wearing one of his old tees and bright red underwear that had HO HO HO written in cursive on the back, and Hayden would’ve found that hot if he didn’t already find it undeniably cute and so you. 

He was wearing nothing on top and black briefs he had slipped on the prior night after spending most of Christmas Eve wrapped around you in the sheets once the guests had cleared out. You had thrown your third Christmas party since being with him last night and you were both a bit tipsy when you took his hand in yours and pulled him with you in the direction of your shared room. 

Hayden was a bit scared to leave this room and see how much of a mess yours and his friends left for the two of you to clean up. He was even  more scared to listen to the Christmas playlist you had been playing on repeat for the past four weeks while you and he cleaned up the mess.  

You sleep for a little while longer, with Hayden staying with you the whole time until your eyes slowly open. Then you were jumping up and standing above him, your feet placed on either side of his waist as you grinned down at him. “Baby!” You excitedly say. “It’s Christmas! Hayden, it’s Christmas!”

Hayden is powerless to stop the smile from forming on his lips as he grips the backs of your knees and pulls you down so you are straddling his waist. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, sitting up and placing his hands on your hips. “I’m surprised I was awake before you were.”

You playfully roll your eyes and grab onto his shoulders. “How long have you been up?”

He shrugs, “Half an hour or so,”

“Hayden!” You gasp and lightly smack his shoulder before massaging that same place. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because we had a late night last night and you were pretty tired by the time I was done with you,” he answered and you blush almost immediately. “And you looked so cute. Quiet, but cute.”

You roll your eyes again. “Haha, you’re funny. Come on, we need to clean up before I give you your Christmas present,”

When you go to get off him, Hayden tightens his hold on your waist. “Before all of that, can you give me a kiss first? I’ve been holding off on kissing you since I woke up,”

You blush a bit more as you lean down and kiss him deeply, your hands sliding up and tangling in his hair. His grip on you tightens and guides your body forward, but before he could grind up against you and keep you in bed for the rest of the morning, you pull away with a teasing smirk. “There will be more of that later, if you can keep your hands to yourself long enough to help me clean up the house,”

Hayden laughs and lets you go, staying in bed and watching as you bend over to grab the matching plaid pajama pants you bought earlier this month. “What, that wasn’t my gift?” 

You stand up straight and toss the bigger size at him. “Nope,” you answer as the pants hit his face then fall onto his lap. 

He picks them up as you put yours on, “Can I get a hint?” 

You walk back over to him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “Nope,” 

Then you were pretty much sprinting out of the room and he was left to tug on the loose-fitting pants and follow after you. 

It was nearing eleven in the morning when you and Hayden finally finished cleaning up all the dishes and making the rest of your house look presentable, even though it was just you and him today. 

Hayden falls onto the couch and extends his arms out to you, gesturing for you to lay down with him. When you just shake your head with a small grin, he sits up a bit, “What? That was a lot of work, baby, come lay with me,” 

You shake your head again and walk backwards towards the guest room door. “I can’t,” 

He sits up completely at that as he watches you turn and place your hand on the doorknob. “Why not?”

“Because,” you trail off. “It’s time for your present.”

Before Hayden could further question your strange behavior, you open the door and a small Golden Retriever with a red bow wrapped loosely around its neck comes wandering out. “You didn’t,” he said and his voice must have caught the attention of the puppy as it began making its way over to him. “Baby, you didn’t.”

“I did,” you say as you follow after the puppy and sit next to your boyfriend while it sits at his feet. “You kept talking about how much you wanted a dog, and I grew up with Goldens so I know how sweet they are. I hope you love him.”

“Him? He’s a boy?” Hayden asked as he picked up the puppy. When you nodded he leaned over and pressed kiss after kiss to your cheek. “I love him, baby, he’s the best gift ever.”

You grin and reach over, scratching under the puppy’s chin. “I already picked out a name, I hope you don’t mind,”

Hayden shook his head, “What is his name?”

“Obi,” you answer and Hayden laughs loudly, petting Obi’s head after startling him with the sound. “I thought, since Ewan did me a favor and kept him at his house for a few days so I could surprise you, I’d name him after his character.”

Hayden keeps one hand on Obi and uses his other one to guide you into a kiss by gently gripping the back of your neck. “I love you,” he mumbles before kissing you again.

He pulls away and looks back at Obi, adjusting his  bow. “Merry Christmas, Hayden. Are you surprised?”

“Very,” he replied, his heart nearly melting when Obi settled on his lap. “How did you even get him in the guestroom? When?”

You shrug with a smile, “Ewan came with him last night. He put him in there while you were still getting ready. I hid your shirt so he could come in quickly while you were looking for it,”

Hayden looks over at you with a surprised laugh. “You’re sneaky,” he ruffles the top of Obi’s head again. “This makes my gift look bad.”

Nuzzling against his side, you smile at the two of them. “Nothing you give me will ever be bad,” you assure him. 

“Better get it out of the way,” he said, setting Obi onto your lap before getting up. He disappears into your room for a few seconds and you distract yourself by petting the new addition to the family. “Okay, here it is.” 

Hayden enters the living room again, and you are far too distracted to realize that he is now kneeling in front of you. 

“Baby,” he calls out to you and you hum, looking up at him. Your smile faded a bit when you took in his position, and your fingers tangled in Obi’s hair as your gaze narrowed on the small open box he held in his hand. Inside it was the prettiest ring you had ever seen.  “I love you. I have for six years now, and I will for the rest of my life. You mean more to me than anyone else in the world, and I promise that I will continue to make you happy for the rest of our lives. Will you-”

“Yes,” you cut him off, gently pushing Obi onto the cushion in order to throw yourself at Hayden. 

He caught you, moving to sit on the ground as you climbed onto his lap. “I didn’t even get to ask you-” “Yes,” you say again, kissing him multiple times, reiterating in between each one, “Yes, yes, yes. This is the best Christmas gift ever, baby, yes.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker imagine #star wars anakin #anakin star wars #sw anakin #tcw anakin #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #clayton beresford imagine #clayton beresford #clayton beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #christmas #christmas 2023

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 4

Series Masterlist

➪in which clay becomes more and more aware of his feelings for you, and you grow more and more attached to both him and joey.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Clay Beresford: Stuck at work for a bit longer today. Are you able to get Joey ready for bed again? 

You glanced up at the kid who was sitting on the living room floor, his head propped up on a pillow as he skimmed through a picture book. You had babysat a lot of kids throughout high school, but Joey was by far the cutest and sweetest child you had ever met. You had grown so attached to him in so little time, and you were beginning to fear that maybe being around him and his dad so much would end badly, but you didn’t want your time with them to ever end. 

Clay was so kind and not at all like the stereotypical rich guy who just cares about his job and money. He adored his kid and had a close relationship with his mother and so obviously cared deeply about those around him. You met him because he had helped you out with directions, surely making himself late for work because of that, but never rushed during the entire time you and him talked. 

He was about to single-handedly ruin your standards for men.

Of course I can. He just finished dinner, so I’ll let him relax for a bit before putting him in the bath. 

Clay Beresford: Thank you. I’ll pay you extra again for the trouble. Just tell him I’ll be there before he falls asleep so I can say goodnight to him. 

No need to pay extra. Got more than enough last night, Mr Businessman. I’ll let him know. See you later. 

You set your phone down and got off the couch. Sitting on the carpet next to Joey, you ruffle his hair a bit and smile at the laugh that escapes him. “Would you like me to read to you before your bath?” You offer and he nods, sitting up and moving onto your lap. 

You wrap your arms around him and begin reading The Kissing Hand. Once you are done, Joey leans back against you and plays with the charms on your bracelet. “That book is like my dad and I,” he says and your heart swells and breaks at the same time. 

The Kissing Hand was a book about a mother raccoon and son raccoon, and you were once again reminded that the sweet kid on your lap was robbed of his own mother at such a young age. 

Not because she tragically died or anything. No, she willingly left both him and Clay as if she thought she could live a better life somewhere else without them in it. 

Your eyes stung a bit as you leaned down and kissed the top of his head before you began to really think about it. “You love your dad, huh?”

He nods and looks at the picture on the front of the book. “He’s my best friend,”

You blink away the few tears that formed as you stand up with him in your arms. “You’re sweet, you know that?” You murmur as you carry him upstairs and into the bathroom. “Do you want a lot of bubbles or only a little?” You ask as you turn the water on and look at him from over your shoulder. 

He gives you a crooked smile from his spot on the footstool. “Grandma puts a lot in. Daddy doesn’t,”

You smile back as you stand up. “Looks like you’re getting a lot tonight,”

After letting him sit in the bath for a while and then helping him change into his pajamas, you sit next to him on his bed as he tries to decide what book he wanted you to read to him. “Read this one?” He held up Lullaby Moon and you were powerless to stop yourself from agreeing. 

You were both tired by the time you finished reading it, and you had to fight off a few yawns as you set the book aside. “Did you have a good day?” You asked as you smoothed out his hair. 

Joey nodded and snuggled closer to your side. “I like it when you’re here,” he mumbled and your heart swooned a bit. 

“Yeah?” You hum with a grin. “I like it, too.”

He closes his eyes and holds onto his teddy bear. “When will daddy be home?”

“Soon, buddy,” you answer, looking over at the clock on the wall and seeing that it was nearing eight thirty. Clay must’ve gotten held up even more since he said he would be home by now, but you honestly didn’t mind sitting with Joey when he was all sleepy like this.

He was ridiculously cute and was practically Clay’s twin, and you were quickly realizing that you would rather be here with them than anywhere else. You were becoming too attached to them far too soon, and you knew you needed to get a hold of yourself. 

“He always tucks me in,” Joey whined quietly and you think your heart physically cracked a bit at that. 

“He’ll be home soon, Joey,” you promised, standing up and tugging on his covers. “It won’t be as good as the way your dad tucks you in, but can I try? See if it helps you get more comfortable?”

He nods and you take it upon yourself to gently shove the blankets under his body and position his pillow so his head was resting on it a bit better. 

“How’s that?” You ask as you kneel next to his bed. 

“Good,” he smiled and reached out to grab your hand.

“What?” You asked when you saw that his eyes were open again and he was staring up at you. “What’s the matter?”

“I miss daddy,” he answers and you could hear the quiver in his voice. 

You pout down at him and lean in to kiss the top of his head. “I know you do,” you murmur. “He’ll be back soon. Would you like me to stay with you until he gets home?”

When Joey nods, you move so you’re sitting on the carpet next to his bed, your back against the side of it and your hand locked with his smaller one. 

And as you waited for Clay to get back, the soft sounds Joey made as he fell asleep slowly but surely had your eyes shutting and your own body giving into sleep as well. 

-

“Yes, mother, I’ll let her know,” Clay muttered as he entered the house and quietly shut the door behind him, despite knowing that no one would have been able to hear it, anyway. “I’ll see you next week.”

“You’ll take care of yourself, right?” Lilith asked and he could hear the worry laced in her voice. “Maybe you should have Y/n stay over to keep an eye on you.”

“Jesus, mom, I’m twenty seven years old,” he grunted as he shoved his keys into his pocket and ascended the stairs. “She’s here to look after my kid, not yours.”

“I just worry about you, Clay,” she said quietly, making him sigh as he poked his head into the living room. He knew he wouldn’t find Joey or you in there, but he still checked anyway. 

He had gotten home much later than he expected to, and he was a bit annoyed at how his meeting went today. At about four PM he was ready to call it a day and he wanted nothing more than to go home to his kid and maybe chat up his babysitter a bit before having an early night in, but clearly that didn’t happen at all. 

“Don’t stress yourself out,” he said in a much calmer tone as he looked in the kitchen as well. He found that it was once again spotless, and his mood lifted considerably at that. His eyes narrowed at the pots drying on the dish rack, a small smile forming on his lips as he realized that you had made pasta. Joey’s favorite. “I’ll be fine. You have a nice trip, alright?”

“I’m here for business, Clay. I’d hardly call that a trip,”

The call ended not long after that as he made his way up to the third floor and peeked his head into his son’s room. While he was expecting to find Joey asleep, what was not expecting was to see you sleeping right next to him with your head on his bed and your legs folded on the floor. 

The position you had fallen asleep in would surely result in a stiff neck tomorrow, but even that didn’t seem like a good enough reason to wake you. Joey’s fingers were tangled with yours, and you both looked so peaceful, it felt like Clay’s heart had skipped a beat. 

Or he was having another heart attack at the scene in front of him. 

It was perhaps the sweetest sight he had ever seen, putting aside all the times he’s watched Joey fall asleep, and he truly didn’t think he had the strength to wake you up. 

He knew he needed to, and he knew he would begin to feel like a total creep if he were to wait any longer, so with a quiet sigh, he makes his way over to you. Kneeling down, he smiles at his son before reaching out and gently shaking your shoulder. “Y/n?” He called quietly, pulling his hand away when he saw your eyes open. 

Your gaze met his and he watched as your eyes filled with a bit of confusion. “Clay, hi,” you mumble, sitting up and looking behind you at Joey. You turn back to Clay with wide eyes and a nervous look on your face. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I put him in bed and he wanted me to sit with him until you got home then I accidentally fell asleep somehow, and-”

“Hey,” he cut you off with a laugh, getting off his knees and crouching next to you instead. “Why are you apologizing? It’s okay.”

“It’s unprofessional,” you corrected as you rubbed your face roughly. “What if I forgot to lock the door and someone broke in? Or something else happened to Joey and I missed it because I was sleeping? God, this is so embarrassing.”

Clay laughed quietly and gently took your hands in his when you kept them pressed against your face. “It’s fine, Y/n, really. Joey’s fine,” he assured you, pulling your hands away from your face. “You fed him, got him ready for bed and stayed with him until he fell asleep. I don’t care that you fell asleep, too. The door was locked so you weren’t being unsafe or anything. It’s fine.”

His hands were still holding yours, and he hesitantly pulled them away after realizing that - though he really didn’t want to.

You give him an embarrassed smile. “Okay,” you reluctantly murmur, watching as he stands up to his full height and holds his hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you up with little to no effort at all. “Thanks.”

He smiles down at you, his mind begging him to be selfish and say something that would get you to stay a little while longer. “Any plans after this?” He asks and you shake your head, lifting your shoulders in a form of a stretch. 

“No, I was just going to have an early night in,” you say with a shy smile.

Clay knew he had no business asking you what he was about to ask you, but he didn’t really care at the moment. He just witnessed you and his son in the cutest scene ever, his brain was a fuzzy mess at this point. “Would you like to stay for a bit? Other than the day we met, you and I haven’t talked much. You know, one on one. Maybe we can get to know each other better,” he suggested, his eyes a bit wide as he looked for any clues that would indicate you were uncomfortable. For safe measure he added, “Only if you want to.”

Your smile grew a bit at his words, and suddenly he felt less nervous. “Yeah, I’d love to,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

And that was how he found himself sitting next to you on the couch in his living room. Yeah, maybe he was a bit too close to you, and yeah, maybe this lighting was making you look like something straight out of heaven, but Clay was still well aware of the fact that nothing could happen between the two of you. He was your source of income, for fucks sake. Nothing can happen.

“So, I graduated at the top of my class then moved as far as I could with the money I had saved up. They don’t tell you how expensive places are in the big city until you’re stranded in it,” you say as you lean back against the couch, a pillow placed on your lap like last time. “That’s how I found myself scrambling to find a job. I lucked out when I ran into you, oddly enough.”

Clay grinned at that as he believed that he was the lucky one. His kid adored you and it was clear you adored his kid. You were kind and genuine and you thought about both him and Joey. His mind went back to the first night you made him dinner, and the cute note you left with it. 

The same note that was still stuck to his alarm clock right now.

His mothers words echoed in the back of his head and he debated on whether or not it was too soon to ask you if you are able to stay the night so you can get Joey ready in the mornings. “I think Joey and I are the lucky ones,” he says instead. “That kid loves you already.”

You grin over at him with that pretty smile of yours and Clay felt the heat rush to his face, feeling like he didn’t really deserve to be at the center of your attention right now. Sam really fucked him up and he knew it would take a long time for him to feel whole again now that he didn’t have her anymore, but it didn’t seem so bad ever since he met you. You, for some reason, made everything seem a bit easier. “I’m glad,” you say quietly, despite Clay moving the two of you downstairs and into the living room so you wouldn’t wake Joey up with your conversation. “You’ve got a cute kid, Clay. He is far too sweet for his own good.”

Before Clay could stop himself or think about his words, he blurted out, “You and him have that in common,” he knew how inappropriate that sounded and he also knew he needed to take it back somehow or find a way to make it sound less…weird. 

But you just smile again and look away. “Well, I don’t know where I get it from, but Joey for sure gets it from his dad,” you responded and Clay had to turn away as he felt his face heat up once again.

He debated on whether or not he should just go for it and ask if you are available to stay over for a few nights. Fuck it. What’s he got to lose other than a really great babysitter? “Hey, uh….are you able to stay over from Sunday night to late Wednesday? It’s just my mom is out on this trip and I would be late for work if I were to try to get Joey ready for school on my own. There’s a guest room a few doors down from mine,”

You studied his face for a bit and he could see the smile you were fighting off as you leaned back against the couch. “Sleepovers with the Beresfords?” You tease with a small grin. “I’m honored.”

Clay forced out a laugh as he scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, you help out so much around here, and Joey would be so happy to have you around for that long,” he said then quickly added, “If you’re not able to or already have plans that’s fine. I’ll figure something else out-”

“Clay, I think we’ve already established that my social life is lacking severely at the moment,” you laughed and leaned over a bit, giving him a hint of the sweet vanilla scent of your perfume. “I’d love to stay over and help get Joey ready for school. Hey, maybe I can even help clean up this place. It’s pretty messy.”

You laugh again when Clay looks around the damn near spotless living room before he shakes his head with a smile. “Have at it,” he said back then met your eyes. You looked so pretty right now, the lamp on the side table illuminating only half your face, but you still looked so pretty. He could kiss you right now. He wanted to. Fuck, did he want to. 

Professional, Clay. Keep it professional. She’s your kid’s hot babysitter, get over it. 

He could tell himself that all he wanted, but it wouldn’t make him any more interested in actually pursuing it. “Thanks,” he said in response to your agreement. 

You smiled again and Clay felt himself leaning closer to you just slightly. He could do it right now. Say fuck it and see what it felt like to kiss you after imagining it from day one. 

Nothing can happen. Nothing can happen. Nothing can happen. 

You were a mere few inches away now, and you were clearly waiting for him to make the next move. He wanted to, so badly. 

But he waited too long. He thought about it too much and now you are pulling away with a sheepish look on your face. “It’s getting late,” you say quietly as you stand up. “I should get going.”

Clay made a move to stand up as well. “I’ll walk you to the door,”

You nodded and allowed him to guide you out of the living room and down to the first floor, where the two of you fell into your routine of him wishing you a goodnight and requesting you to let him know you got home safely before watching you get into a cab and head home.

-

Shorter chapter since I am drowning in assignments, but sleepovers are next ;)

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