skywlkrhoney

[skywlkrhoney]

The fact that he kept the tats for the wrap party 😩😩😩

[skywlkrhoney]

this still feels like a fever dream

[skywlkrhoney]

SAM MONROE was tired. It's been a crazy week for him; Vinnie’s never ending energy, school..it was all too much at some times in his life. He even did a very mature decision in this direction- going to bed early. But as he was reaching to turn off the nightstand, his ears picked up a little sniffles and a sound of socked feet dragging over the wooden floor.

He blinked, groaned a little, and rolled over to squint through the dark. “...Vinnie?” his voice was rough, confused. Of course it could be anyone; his mom, his stepbrothers, heck, maybe even his step-dad telling him to turn off the lights, yet his mind immediately drifted to one person.

The door creaked open and in came the tiniest figure, wobbling in oversized pajama bottoms, bunny in one arm, the other rubbing his eyes furiously to the point it started to look red. A soft sniffle escaped him, nose scrunched, cheeks blotchy and those lips quivering in the saddest pout Sam had ever seen.

“Hey—hey, woah, buddy—” Sam swung his legs out of the bed, heart skipping, turning instantly awake. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

Vinnie didn’t answer. He just toddled straight towards Sam like nothing else in the world could save him right now. When he got close enough, Sam immediately reached down and scooped him up by the armpits. At first he set him on bed, tucking himself back into the duvet before doing the same with the little guy.

And that’s when Vinnie broke. To be exact when Sam made eye contact with him. Sob escaped his little throat, one hand reaching out to clutch at Sam’s shirt, the other still clinging to bunny. His tiny face buried in Sam’s chest as his little body shuddered with emotion.

Sam blinked, panick blinding his gaze “Hey—what’s goin’ on, what happened? Did you have a bad dream?”

But Vinnie just whimpered and shook his head. “Nooo…”

Sam softened his voice. “Then what is it, huh? What made you all sad like this?”

Vinnie sniffled hard, hiccuped, then finally pulled back just enough to look up at Sam through glossy, ocean-blue eyes.

“I l-lub you, Thammy…” he cried, voice thick and SO baby. “Lub you tho much…” then he let go of Sam and his toy to held his pudgy little arms out wide, as far as they could stretch. “THHHIIIIS much.”

Sam’s heart disappeared. His throat closed up, eyes blinked trying to understand what was happening. The breathing caught in his chest like some unspoken emotion punched him in the gut. His expression softened even more “Aw, man…” he muttered, pressing Vinnie closer, hand smoothing up his back. “You’re killin’ me, y’know that? You’re actually killin’ me. Cryin' just cus you love me...”

Vinnie kept hiccuping, melting into Sam’s arms, whispering over and over in a sleepy sobby mumble: “Lub you, Thammy…lub you tho much…”

Sam just held him tight against his heart, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “…Yeah. I love you too, kiddo. So, so much it hurts me as well.”

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[skywlkrhoney]

An unhealthy habit but he looks so good doing it😔

[skywlkrhoney]

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN AS SAM MONROE ⤷ Life as a House (2001) dir. Irwin Winkler

[skywlkrhoney]

HE LOOKS SO GOOD I CANT DO THIS

[skywlkrhoney]

Thinking about this today

[skywlkrhoney]

He’s so-

[skywlkrhoney]

[skywlkrhoney]

oh hay 🥺🫶🏼✨

[skywlkrhoney]

The damn tongue nghhhhh

[skywlkrhoney]

The cutiest patootie ❤️

[skywlkrhoney]

[skywlkrhoney]

Monday morning chaos like sam trying to chain himself to the bed so he doesn’t have to go to school and trying to wake Scott up is like talking to a brick wall and of course fighting over the front seat all while having to race them to school on time

“Monday Mayhem in the Monroe Household”

Son! Sam x Mom Reader x Son! Scott

“Boys! Get up!” you roared from the kitchen, flipping pancakes with the kind of furious energy usually reserved for street fights. The toaster popped violently, launching toast like a ballistic missile, and you lunged, catching it one-handed. The eggs were starting to smoke.

Silence. Absolute, ominous silence from the boys’ room.

Your eye twitched. “SCOTT! SAM! GET. UP!”

Nothing. Not a rustle. Not a groan.

Oh, we’re doing this today?

You stomped down the hallway, the spatula still in your hand like a weapon. The boys’ room was a war zone of discarded laundry, guitar picks, and crumpled sports jerseys. Somewhere under a fortress of blankets, Scott lay sprawled like a corpse, only his wild, sandy hair poking out.

“Scott. Get. Up.” You shook his shoulder. Nothing. You shook harder. “Scott Monroe, if you don’t wake up right now, I swear I will—”

“M’awake,” he slurred, his face still buried in the pillow.

“No, you’re not.” You yanked the pillow out from under him. He barely reacted, face now squashed against the bare mattress.

“Five more minutes…”

“No. Minutes.” You leaned down and grabbed the bottom of his mattress, heaving it upwards like you were flipping a pancake. Scott’s limp body slid off, hitting the floor with a thud.

“WHAT THE—MOM!”

“Good morning, sunshine!” you chirped, already moving to the other side of the room.

Sam’s bed was… suspicious. His familiar pile of blankets seemed a little bulkier today, and one corner of his comforter had a silver glint to it.

“Sam?” You leaned in, and a chain slipped out, clinking against the bedpost.

Oh, no.

“Samuel Monroe. Did you chain yourself to the bed again?”

“I’m protesting!” came his muffled voice from beneath the mountain of blankets.

“Protesting what?”

“School. Life. Waking up.”

You ripped off the covers, revealing Sam, half-tangled in the chains that usually dangled from his cargo shorts, looped around his waist, padlocked to the bed frame. His eyeliner was smeared, his hair a chaotic mess, and he clutched the chains like a Victorian prisoner.

“This is a statement!” he shouted, yanking at the chains dramatically.

You sighed, plucking a hairpin from your wrist and expertly picking the lock like the experienced boy mom you were. “The only statement you’re making is that I should’ve invested in a home security system instead of raising two tiny gremlins.”

Sam flopped backwards, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t go. I’m dropping out. I’m living off the grid.”

“Perfect. I’ll take your Xbox and turn your music room into a yoga studio.”

“I’M UP!”

In the kitchen, the pancakes were on the brink of cremation. You flipped them onto plates, shoved eggs on the side, and stuffed lunch boxes with whatever you could grab — leftover pasta for Sam, a ham and cheese sandwich for Scott, a handful of cookies for both because you had already accepted defeat.

The boys stumbled in, Scott wearing his jersey backwards and blinking like a newborn mole, Sam in a wrinkled band tee, his chains still dragging behind him like some goth Christmas decoration.

“Sit. Eat. Do not speak,” you commanded, slamming the plates down.

Peace. Beautiful, fleeting peace. The boys ate with the desperation of starving wolves, syrup dripping down Scott’s chin while Sam stabbed at his eggs like they owed him money.

“I need more syrup,” Scott grumbled, holding out his plate.

“Please?” you corrected, pouring more.

“Please.”

“I need coffee,” Sam muttered, leaning his forehead against the table.

“You need therapy,” you shot back, kissing the top of his head.

Three minutes of bliss. Then you glanced at the clock.

“WE’RE LATE!”

Chaos re-erupted. Scott bolted to the bathroom, trying to brush his teeth while simultaneously shoving on his shoes. Sam was swearing because one of his chains got stuck in the door handle.

“Backpacks! Shoes! Let’s go!” you yelled, grabbing your keys.

Scott shot out of the bathroom, leaping over the couch like a parkour athlete. “SHOTGUN!”

“NO, YOU DON’T!” Sam lunged, grabbing his brother by the hoodie. “I’m not sitting in the back next to your stinky gym bag again!”

They were clawing at each other like feral cats, and you stormed out the front door. “I don’t care who sits where! Both of you — BACK SEAT!”

They froze, looking at you with wide, betrayed eyes.

“But—”

“BACK. SEAT.”

They crammed in, knees jammed against each other, still muttering curses.

“I get to pick the music,” Scott declared, grabbing the aux cord.

“Like hell you do!” Sam snatched it, yanking it so hard it nearly ripped.

“I will turn this car around,” you threatened, pulling out of the driveway at breakneck speed.

“Mom, he’s playing that screamo crap!”

“Better than your stupid Drake playlist!”

You ripped the aux cord out, shoving it in your cup holder. “No music. Silence. Absolute silence.”

Miraculously, they shut up.

For thirty seconds.

“Mom, he’s breathing on me.”

“I’m literally breathing air!”

“Boys.”

“He’s got his gross hoodie on me!”

“It’s not gross, it’s fashion!”

“I will leave you both on the side of the road!” you barked, gripping the wheel so hard your knuckles were white.

You swerved into the school drop-off lane, tires squealing. The boys grabbed their bags, Scott nearly tripping over Sam as they tumbled out.

“Have a great day!” you called, leaning out the window with a forced smile.

Scott paused, waving. “Love you, Mom.”

Sam leaned back in, blowing you a kiss. “Thanks, Mom.”

They ran off, shoving each other the whole way to the doors.

You sank back into your seat, taking a deep, glorious breath. Silence. Sweet, perfect silence.

Your phone buzzed.

Scott: I forgot my math book. Can you bring it?

You screamed into the steering wheel.

[skywlkrhoney]

warnings : : handjob

As soon as he saw the smile forming on your lips, while the words slipped out of his mouth, Anakin knew he had made a mistake. A naive, irreversible mistake.

After days of being in an even worse mood than usual, convinced something was wrong with him, you finally got him to open up. With no other options and definitely not about to talk to Obi-Wan, he just thought, “Why not?” After all, you were friends, and friends talk about that kind of stuff, right?

He wasn’t feeling so good about that decision now.

“So you’ve been acting like a brat these past few days just because you can’t… get off?” you tease, a mocking smile playing on your lips as you try to hold back the laugh threatening to escape.

“Forget it,” he mutters, looking anywhere in your room but you.

“So you can’t, like… get hard?” you can see Anakin’s face turn red in about thirty different shades. Oh, you’re having way too much fun with this.

“It’s not that!” he blurts out, clearly wanting this conversation to be over. “I can! And constantly- I just… can’t get there lately,”

“So, like, you're hard now?” he covers his face at your words and lets out a muffled whine, and you almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

“Just forget it, okay?” he rests his elbows on the mattress and looks back at you. “Let’s go eat or something.”

“I could help you” you blurted out nonchalantly, and it’s almost comical how you can see his mind go blank for a moment.

“W- what?” he couldn’t believe a girl was offering to do this for him. That you were offering to do this for him.

You had kissed before, awkwardly and out of mutual curiosity, but it never led to anything serious - despite his constant flirtatious comments. So your suggestion takes him by surprise, he’d never imagined his fantasies could actually come true. Until now.

“I don’t mind,” you say, settling back on your heels and leaning forward. “I want to help you.” Your fingers brush the waistband of his pants, pausing for permission. He nods quickly, biting his lip to stifle any embarrassing sounds, barely able to believe this is really happening. You unbuckle his trousers, freeing his cock, which softly slaps against his stomach. “You good?” you ask, and he gives another quick nod in response.

Gently, you wrap your hand around his length with a loose grip and start moving it in a slow rhythm, unsure of exactly how to do it.

“Y- shit... you can hold on tighter,” you nod silently and do as he says. A deep groan escapes his throat, and he melts like pudding under your touch. When you look at him, his cheeks are flushed, his brows furrowed, and his fingers twitch nervously against the soft fabric of the mattress as he tries to stay steady. “Jus like that-” his reaction only gives you more confidence to keep going, so you run your thumb in slow, gentle circles over his tip, spreading the precum before gliding your hand along his now slicker shaft. Your rhythm quickens, guided by the soft, desperate sounds escaping his lips.

It doesn’t take long before Anakin feels his orgasm building for the first time in days. He bucks his hips upward in desperation, trying to match your strokes, as the friction intensifies, his whole body trembles, and before he can even warn you, thick ropes of cum spill over your fist. His eyes rolling back in delight.

You stare at him in surprise for a moment before a soft laugh escapes your lips. “Feeling better?” “Shit, c’mere,” he replies, wasting no time as he pulls you in and presses a grateful kiss to your lips.

[skywlkrhoney]

ANAKIN SKYWALKER having a nasty habit of taking flowers from Jedi temple garden and just casually plucking it behind our ear :((( just pure ani in love; his eyes all adoring and screaming love

- im identifying as 🐇 now and you can not stop me Nina..

—❝loves in quiet ways❞

anakin skywalker x reader

tw ; nothing, just pure fluff

a/n ; hmm.. i wonder who this anon is.. IM GIGGLING. ALSO GUYS PLEZ. IM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG IM TAKING TO DO THESE REQUESTS. I SWEAR IM WRITING THEM ALL PLZZZZ. DONT CANCEL ME. i hope you all enjoy this, angels <3

THE SUN WAS SOFT THAT AFTERNOON, DRAPING THE JEDI TEMPLE GARDENS IN A GOLDEN KIND OF QUIET. The stone paths were warm beneath your boots, the hum of distant speeders barely cutting through the sound of birdsongs and rustling leaves. 

There was a breeze, light and playful, threading through the tall grasses and swaying the heads of the flowers that lined the edges of the courtyard. It smelled like Naboo, somehow—like sun-warmed petals and something fresh and green.

It always started the same way.

You’d be walking through the Temple grounds—usually after a training session with your Master, sometimes on your way to the Archives, once even after a really boring mission debrief—and out of nowhere, Anakin would slow down beside you as you two were walking together. His eyes would wander a bit, like he wasn’t really listening anymore. You used to think he was zoning out. Turns out, he was just looking for flowers.

The first time it happened, you right were here in the Temple gardens. You were mid-sentence about something pretty boring—which was the ridiculous size of the new training droids—when you noticed Anakin had stopped listening entirely. You were about to call him out when he suddenly turned to you, completely unbothered, holding the softest-looking flower between his fingers. It was a small flower—soft blue petals, barely bigger than his thumb.

“Hold still,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the galaxy.

You blinked a few times in confusion, but didn’t move an inch—just tilted your head questioningly as he stepped in close, your eyes looking up at him. 

He reached up with one hand and carefully tucked the flower behind your ear, his fingertips brushing your skin so lightly it made your breath catch.

You stood there staring up at him, heart tripping over itself, while he just smiled at you like you’d hung every single star in the sky.

“Perfect,” he said, quietly. Not looking at the flower, but instead looking at you.

You could feel your cheeks warming up, a rosy blush covering your face, but it was still impossible to look away from him. His gaze was so open, so full, that it made your stomach twist in the best kind of way. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You murmured as your lips quirked up at the corners, trying to sound casual.

His own lips twitched like he was fighting back a smile. “Can you blame me?”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like tucking flowers behind your ear was as natural to him as breathing. And maybe it was.

“I like seeing you with something soft,” he added after a beat, voice quieter now. “Like… Like the world should treat you just as gently.”

Your stomach was filled with butterflies in that moment, and it was hard to hide the way your eyes twinkled with adoration for him.

And all he did was smile at you. That small, boyish one. The one that only ever reached his eyes when he was looking at you.

Since then, it’s just become a thing of his now.

Sometimes he does it in passing, like it’s muscle memory now. You’ll be walking towards the mess hall, or sitting on a bench in the courtyard, or leaning over a datapad—and suddenly, there’s Anakin, plucking a tiny bloom from somewhere and tucking it behind your ear like it belongs there.

Like you belong to him, in this small, soft, secret kind of way.

No one else notices. Or if they do, they pretend not to—like Obi-Wan, for instance.

Maybe because it's Anakin, and he knows better than to ask about whatever storm or sun is brewing behind those eyes.

But when he's with you? It's never stormy. Just warm. 

Soft. Reverent. 

A little shy, even.

The way he looks at you every time he does it… stars. It’s like you’ve undone him without even trying. Like he’s seeing the whole galaxy and somehow you’re still the brightest thing in it.

There’s no smirk on his face, ever. No cocky comment. Just that stupidly soft smile you adore and those eyes—so full of something that looks so dangerously close to love.

Once, you caught him doing it when you were barely paying attention. A little wildflower tucked behind your ear, and he stared at you for a second longer than usual.

“What?” You asked, trying not to grin.

“Nothing,” he said, but his voice was too full of feeling for it to mean nothing. “You’re just… beautiful.”

And you couldn’t even pretend to tease him for it, because your heart was doing backflips, and you knew his was too. Because for all his bravado and charm, Anakin loves in quiet ways—in flowers and looks and touches that said everything he couldn’t out loud.

And even now, with the war growing louder, and the galaxy heavier, he still finds time. Still finds flowers. Still finds you.

Because loving you is the only thing that’s ever felt easy. 

And he’d rather die than let go of that. 

Rather die than let go of you.

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let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list, angels <3

[skywlkrhoney]

Random low quality Hayden pics