thejedifairy

[thejedifairy]

it was life day eve

Captain Rex x reader

read on ao3 (more warnings here too) | masterlist

It was Life Day Eve when Rex got back to you late at night - you were fast asleep, but Rex couldn't hold back his need that had been fueled by the surprise you'd left for him to discover upon his arrival.

18+ only. about 1.4k words. smut. consensual somno. rex has got it bad. more on ao3. I'm back after too, too long with filth of my beloved, please enjoy :')

Rex readjusted the strap of the duffle bag, heavy with the entirety of his kit packed in there, so it could sit more comfortably on his shoulder as his fingers input your keycode with automaticity. The door slid open and the smell of the seasonal air freshener you favored greeted him almost instantly, along with the soft, warm glow of the lights hanging around the space. Stepping fully inside, Rex looked around and silently marveled at the decorations you’d strung up in his absence. You wanted it to be a surprise for him – and a surprise it surely was. Festive floral arrangements and seasonal colors were bathed in the lights that twinkled in blown glass orbs all around, and Rex couldn’t help but shake his head with a grin at the image of you standing on furniture of questionable integrity to get everything set to where it all hung now. 

Life Day was a favorite of yours. You always spoke of how beautifully intriguing the Wookiee holiday was, how it celebrated joy and harmony amongst family and friends. It was something you looked forward to every year, and when you’d told Rex that you traditionally decorated for it, he’d been eager on a high that came from your endearing childlike wonder and excitement to see what you had in store.

Seeing all of this, the effort you’d put into it, made him all the more thrilled for the traditional meal you would prepare tomorrow evening.

Since you hadn’t yet greeted him, you must have been asleep – of course you were. It was late, and Rex had explained to you earlier, when he’d first gotten back in the system, that he’d be getting in at an odd hour. 

But you still kept all the lights on for him.

When he cautiously stepped beyond the threshold into your room, he smiled. A domestic warmth filled his chest at the sight of you wrapped up in your thickest blankets, fetally curled up on your side as you almost always were. 

Rex gently set down the duffle bag against the wall. He started to pull off his boots, then set the pair down just beside the rest of his kit. His undershirt and pants were removed next, leaving him in his compression briefs. Normally, Rex would have hopped in your shower to freshen up before changing into a pair of casual lounge clothes you kept for him in the closet, but this time, knowing he’d be getting in so late, Rex had showered at the barracks instead, and came over in a clean undersuit. 

He didn’t want to have to prolong getting into bed with you after catching a glimpse, and at this moment, as Rex started to stealthily situate himself under the blankets, he thanked the universe that he had ended up showering beforehand. 

You shuffled a bit at his presence, but that was about it. Rex tried not to wake you as he scooched closer, curling on his side and gently wrapping his arms around you, fitting against you like a puzzle piece. He could feel that you were not wearing much clothing; just a thin, low cut top, your ‘sleep’ panties, and a pair of fuzzy socks. He knew your bedtime attire well. You’d once told him that you weren’t trying to be sexy, just comfortable, but Rex thought that was what made you even more attractive to him. 

He rested his chin on your back and listened to the melodic sound of your leveled breaths. Rex wanted to be selfish here – he wanted to lavish you with kisses and touches and to show you how much he missed you. It started as a gentle tap of his lips against the back of your neck, but once the feel of your skin met his lips, Rex couldn't help himself. He kissed all along where he could reach: your neck, between your shoulders, your cheek. He couldn’t help himself – not when his kisses became a little sloppier, or when his hand started to caress your arm then thigh. 

“Rex,” you practically moaned his name right out of your slumber, your voice soft and content. 

He missed you, your voice, your body. His briefs were noticeably tighter. He wanted more.

“I didn’t want to wake you, love” he cooed in your ear, lustfully apologetic. “But I want you.” 

Rex took your earlobe between his teeth, teasing it with his tongue. You moaned aloud, a quiet, alluring sound, arching yourself further into his body. He couldn't help but grind himself against your rear, just to relieve some of the swell of need.

When he released your lobe, he didn’t inch away. It was impossible to stop now, not when he’d been waiting for far too long, not when he bore witness to your thoughtful decorating. He’d discovered a while ago that domesticity fueled his desire, and when it came to you, Rex was always smitten.

He took a ragged breath, feeling the heat of your body pressing into him. He needed it, needed you.

“Can I have you, baby? Please. I’ll– I’ll do everything.” 

Another shaky breath was exhaled in your ear when you weakly reached around to pull your panties just far enough down, grazing his cock straining in his briefs with the gesture. Rex bit his lip. Closed his eyes. 

“Let me have you.”

You audibly sighed, a dreamy, sweet sound. “Please.” 

Your voice, still airy with sleep, put Rex into a frenzy. With your go-ahead, he wasted no time with releasing himself from the constricting material, and threw his leg over yours. He let his own, low noises fall freely as he used the wetness between your legs to slick himself up.

“So wet for me,” he commented. There was a note of surprise there. The revelation made him throb. “Need you so bad.”

Entering you slowly, Rex kissed along the back of your neck. Gasped against your skin when he filled you, his groin flush with your skin. You remained still, though he could already feel the desire perspiring as dew on your skin. He could stay inside you for hours, fall asleep like this, awaken like this. The grip you had on his cock was undoing, and when your cunt started to clench with an involuntary need, he started to move.

Rex was gentle. Tender. He rocked himself into you softly, not wanting to disturb you any more than he already had. You were awake, yes, but you were comfortable, still in the position that he’d awoken you in. 

As he moved his hips, rolling them at a crawl, his fingers slid up and under your top. Grazed your breast, the hardened nipple. You moaned at that. Clenched around him.

“Fuck, mesh’la.” Rex sighed, and dragged the flat of his teeth against the curve of your shoulder. “You feel so good.”

He soon felt your own hand join his. Fingers threaded through his own. 

Rex kept a steady pace, rutting against the soft skin of your ass. He felt the heat in his abdomen, the squeeze of his balls. He’d come soon, but wanted to feel you reach climax with him.

As if reading his mind, even in your somnolent state, you guided his hand from your chest. Dragged it down your torso and Rex knew what would get you there. Two, roughly padded fingers circled your clit, and the effect the added stimulation had on you was practically instant. Your breaths hitched, the pitch higher. Whines fell from your lips, and Rex could barely move anymore with how hard your cunt clenched around him. His thighs tensed.

He came with you, his arm holding you tight against his torso to press himself all the way. Your tired body shivered as he filled you, hot and wet, his release mixing with your creamy fluid.

Tacky with sweat, Rex eventually peeled himself from your skin. Slipped wetly out of you. A hidden little mess was left in his wake. 

A man of his word, he took care of everything. Retrieved something to clean you off with so you wouldn’t have to move a pretty little muscle. He then went to turn off all the lights until the entirety of your place fell into darkness. Made sure to duck under a particularly low hanging string of lights on his way back.

Rex rejoined you in bed, his body curved snugly around you. You hardly stirred. 

“The decorations are beautiful,” he murmured into the soft space between your shoulder blades. Pressed a kiss there. Completely, irrevocably enamored by you. “You’re incredible.”

You only hummed in response, and he was sure that you’d fully fallen back asleep moments after that.

[thejedifairy]

What do you think Gregor would be like on a first date, especially with someone who hasn't dated in years and maybe feels a little unsure of themselves?

Awwww yeah, let's go on this one! :D Buckle up, reader -- you're going on a date with our favorite amnesiac! I'm putting them on Pabu (or Santorini, take your pick) just because Gregor deserves a beach vacation after his years on that empty sand planet.

No content warnings. It's frickin adorable. ;) And it totally got away from me so it's 2.5k words...

*insert Gregor giggle*

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You take your hair down again, for the eighth time it seems, letting out a frustrated huff that it seems to be defying your every wish. Glancing at the clock, you feel the anxiety begin to rise, and you make one last attempt at twisting your hair into a half-decent updo. Standing in front of the mirror, you smooth the front of your clothes, studying yourself top to bottom with a critical eye. Why did you agree to this, again? Well, you didn't, you suppose, but you did make the bet, which you lost, and here you are. You cringe as you remember your friend's laughter as he reassured you, "Don't worry -- he's not like the other clones."

Whatever that meant. Either way, it had been ages since you'd been out with anyone, choosing instead to enjoy your quiet life of career, nature, and home. Yet, to spice things up one week, in an impulsive moment of bad judgment, you had taken your friend up on his bet and had wagered a blind date. Deciding this was as good as it's gonna get, you grab your bag and head for the door.

It's a warm, breezy evening, and the enticing smells of a wide variety of dinners being prepared makes your mouth water as you walk through the winding paths of the village. Built on a mountainous island, everything is condensed and vertical, with a seemingly endless maze of walkways and alleys. Your friend made the reservations for the two of you and told you to look for a "guy with eyebrows". You can't possibly fathom this going well, and you realize as you make your way to the restaurant that you're working yourself into a fuss. You reach the doorway and, taking a deep breath, decide to try to let it all go and just see what the night holds. "Try" being the key word.

You enter the restaurant, a rectangular building set on the side the mountain with a bar in the middle, tables scattered throughout, and a balcony along the edge that provided a handful of tables with spectacular views of the houses below, all the way to the water that stretched out into the horizon. You pause in the entryway, scanning the tables for anyone seated alone, and start to feel concerned as you see none. A sudden burst of laughter erupts from the bar, catching your attention.

A man with dark hair, cropped short on the sides but longer and swept back on the top, claps two Pantorans on the back, enjoying a few last chuckles with them, before turning to look around the room. Well son of a Hutt... there's the eyebrows, arched in curiosity. He's a clone, alright, but has an odd way about him. His movements are slightly erratic, and he seemed to be the life of the party a second ago but is now shifting awkwardly on his feet. It's got to be him. You take a deep breath again, and make your way toward him.

"Are you... Gregor?" you ask, once within hearing range, and he whirls to face you so quickly that you're almost startled.

"Depends who's asking!" he says, and a little giggle escapes that seems wildly out of character... well, for any other clone you've met thus far. "But I sure hope you're the one I'm supposed to meet here!" You can't detect any hint of sarcasm or flattery in his voice; it just sounds like a genuine statement. You've been rehearsing a million different scenarios leading up to tonight, anticipating all types of characters, but this one's got you baffled so far.

"Well, if you're Gregor, you're stuck with me!" you say, trying to sound playful but immediately wanting to cringe.

"Lovely!" he claps his hands together, inviting you to the table on the corner of the balcony; it's still relatively early for dinner, so the place isn't too busy, and the tables nearby are empty. But as you get closer to the table, you notice a small bouquet of flowers on one of the place settings, tied neatly with... a napkin?

"Ah, yeah..." Gregor says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I have no idea how all of this is supposed to go, but I saw those on the way here and picked them for you... off people's porches!" He giggles again, and you find yourself relaxing a bit, put at ease by his unapologetic glee. "But I didn't have anything to tie them with, so... I'll cover for you if you want to steal the napkin," he winks.

"That's really sweet," you say with a smile, and he beams back at you, plopping into his seat and scrambling back to his feet just as quickly with a little muttered "oops", instead coming to stand behind your chair, beckoning you to sit and carefully pushing the seat in behind you as you do. Now you're uncomfortable again, feeling suddenly as though you have no idea how to act in these situations after all.

The waiter comes, dressed to the nines, holding a bottle in his hand with a white towel draped over his arm. He holds it out to the two of you, eyes moving slowly from you to Gregor, lips pursed in the snootiest expression you've seen in a while.

"Oh! Yes please!" Gregor says enthusiastically, pushing the two crystal glasses on the table toward the waiter, whose brow drops at such a plebeian reaction. He removes the cork with a flourish (and a little "ooh!" from Gregor), then pours a tiny bit into your glass, straightening up expectantly.

"Aww, no need to be shy!" Gregor chimes in, taking the bottle from him and filling both of your glasses to the absolute brim. "We're good for it!" He grins and gives the waiter a thumbs-up, but the only response he receives is a stifled look of horror as the server slowly hands him a menu. Gregor plunks the bottle down onto the table, taking the menu and opening it excitedly.

You do the same, stifling a chuckle of your own, and try to focus on the food options, but you're distracted by the steady stream of muttering coming from behind your date's menu. Peering over the edge, you see Gregor not only reading the options aloud, but providing quiet commentary on each of them... to himself. You almost want to be critical of it, but it's so endearing that you instead discover a warm and fuzzy feeling growing in your chest.

Snapping his menu shut, Gregor returns his attention to you, catching you by surprise. He smiles, tilting his head and regarding you warmly, "So... eh... tell me about yourself?" he invites sheepishly, saying it more as if he's asking if it's the right thing to say rather than actually asking you.

You find a smile on your own face as you launch into what you hope is a very exciting and thrilling account of your career, interests, and story so far, realizing perhaps a bit too late that you've been going on for a while. You drop off rather quickly, stammering an apology, and his face changes from attentive listening to puzzled confusion.

"Why'd you stop?" he asks, with genuine curiosity.

"I... eh... I was kinda going on and on," you admit.

"Well I loved it all!" Gregor replies, and you are surprised to see that he means it. He opens his mouth to continue when the waiter returns, a distasteful look on his face as though he's just swallowed a Bantha hair when he sees that Gregor has repurposed the bottle into a vase for the small bouquet he brought for you.

"And what will you be having this evening?" the server inquires, turning to you first, and you panic, realizing you hadn't actually finished reading the menu. Surprisingly perceptive, Gregor chimes in, "We'll take two of this, please!" He points to the menu and gives the waiter a cheerful nod, followed by a little wave as the stern little man strolls off toward the kitchen. "I hope I wasn't out of line there," he says to you, eyebrows curving up in an impossibly concerned expression.

It all happened so fast, you're not quite sure what to say, but his authentic consternation is so charming that you can't find anything but reassurance, "No! I'm not normally one for surprises, but I guess we'll see if you have good taste!" You've impressed yourself with your witty response, and you smile with a bit more confidence now.

"Excellent, excellent..." Gregor muses, raising his eyebrows and lowering his chin a tiny bit, "I hope you like womp rat stew!"

"What?" you say in shock, unable to fathom that they'd serve something like that here... or, well, anywhere... but your dismay is short-lived as Gregor bursts out into another giggle. You're unable to suppress a grin, and you give him a look of mock sternness.

"Oh, excuse me," he says in response, putting his hands up in surrender, "I'm forgetting my manners." He returns his hands to the table, looking up at you from those expressive eyebrows, and invites you to continue your story from where you left off.

The food comes, empty plates go, and the two of you find yourself lost in conversation. He listens eagerly to your stories, asking questions and seeming to delight in every last detail. You finish your glasses, feeling warm and rummy with bellies full of food and brains sparkling with the slight influence of drink. The conversation turns to him, finally, and you are highly curious to hear what has brought him to this point.

"Ahh, that's quite a story," he says, shaking his head, "but I believe our time here is up!" He stands, beckoning you to join him, and you feel anxious immediately. Did you talk too much about yourself? Was he calling it, just like that? You thought you'd been having a great time, laughing and chatting, so this was an abrupt surprise.

Speechless, you follow him to the doorway of the restaurant, and he offers you an arm, which you take, feeling slightly reassured at the gentlemanly gesture. Without asking, he begins walking, guiding the two of you along a myriad of paths toward the water, talking about a few local birds that he apparently found hilarious. It takes you far too long to realize that he's not walking you home, and you kick yourself for getting all paranoid for nothing.

"So," Gregor says, strolling with ease next to you, "I was a Clone Commando for the Republic..." and he proceeds to tell a nearly-unbelievable account of war, defeat, death-defying survival, amnesia, remembrance, and explosions. You feel shocked that he let you talk for so long when he's got a story like this, and you share as much, earning another one of those little chuckles that you're coming to enjoy quite a lot.

"Well, that's what got me here, but it's definitely not who I am now," he says, still smiling but voice taking on a somber tone. "I mean, my voice wasn't the only thing changed in the explosion; I took a pretty hard hit to the head, you know. So sometimes I get a bit... forgetful." His bouncy composure has softened a bit, revealing perhaps a bit of shame?

You turn your head to look at him more fully, temporarily stopping the leisurely stroll, and discover an expression on his face that moves you to the core. His animated eyebrows have settled low across his brown eyes, which are downcast to the ground in front of you, and his lips are together in a firm line. You feel compelled to speak, though wildly unprepared.

"Well... Who are you now?" you ask, almost cringing again as it comes out. It sounded better in your head, and you begin to try to come up with something better, but he looks at you with a gaze that takes the words right out of your mouth.

"I... I don't really know," he says, with a chuckle that seems more reflexive than intentional. "I guess I'm kind of starting over, in a way." He is suddenly pensive, eyebrows working overtime with all the thoughts rushing through his mind, and you feel another warm rush in your chest at his unguarded truthfulness.

"For what it's worth," you say, feeling emboldened, "I think you're delightful." You hope it's encouraging, because you struggle to wrap your mind around what his existence must be like, but it's also honest, you realize -- you've completely let your guard down and have been thoroughly enjoying your time together.

He smiles, dropping his eyes with a bashfulness that makes you want to squeeze him, and squeezes your hand against his side with the arm you've been holding onto. "I might say the same about you!" he answers, a bit of his playful spark returning, and the two of you continue down the last cobblestoned staircase to the water.

The sun has set and the sky is glowing with a tranquil twilight. Pink and blue hues cast everything in a dreamy glow, and Gregor leads you to a large piece of driftwood, sitting in the middle of it and patting you a seat next to him. You join him, leaving a good few inches between you, and enjoy the warm sea breeze in silence for a moment.

He shifts awkwardly, moving his hands from his lap to the log behind him, then back to his knees, then folding them together. He finally sits up, turning to you, and holds your gaze as he slowly folds one arm in toward himself like some kind of weird praying mantis before extending it out behind you. "Eh?" he says, hovering his arm over your back, one eyebrow arched and a closed-mouth grin on his face.

You smile, scooting closer to him and nestling up against his side, and he takes that as a yes, wrapping his arm around your shoulders with the most endearing little "ha!" you've yet heard. He runs his other hand through his hair, gazing off into the distance as though he's conquered the world. He continues to surprise you with his quiet contemplation, content to simply enjoy the beauty without any need for words and also without it feeling awkward in the slightest.

The cold fog starts to roll in, so he walks you home with your hand snugly tucked into the crook of his arm. The chatter is lighthearted, playful, calm... You feel more relaxed and delighted than you have in as long as you can remember. As you approach your door, a bright blue that contrasts the white arched stucco all around, he gently unfolds his arm and takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to place the most tender kiss on the back of it.

"I... ah... I hope we can do this again," he admits, eyes large and eager. "And again, and again..." he laughs.

"I would love that."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Author's Note: Did I just fall in love with Gregor?!

Just might have.

Thanks a lot, @drafthorsemath ;) <3 <3 <3

[thejedifairy]

Idk where this came from tbh just felt like sharing my Foxiyo angst with the world 🫡

(I may have sketched this whole thing out before realizing that *that part* with Vader and Fox takes place on a ship, not on the ground… forgive me)

((Also please ignore any weird crops. I blame Tumblr’s image compression habits))

[thejedifairy]

new person: i’m late to this fandom/ship.. there’s not much point writing fic/making art for it is there?

The Fans:

W̡̨͍̞̯ͬͦͤ̍̽͑̌͠E̼̠̪̩̯͈̩̖̳͛͋ͧͭͪ ̣̣̐̚ͅH̡͇͓̓̈́͛ͨ̏͛ͯŲ͔̙̳͇͔̺͓̲͚̐̇ͯ̃́̈N̛̈͐͗̍҉͕̗̗̠̞̗̠̱Ǧ̵̹̜̪̪̖̫̌ͨ̂̇͂ͬȨ̶̥̻̱̦̤̥̬̬͕ͩͪͤͧ̇͗̿R̵̢̘̘̩̠̜̭̭̯̅ͩ͂͆̉̅̎ͩ͜ͅ ̛̖͎̞̎̂̐͊̿̑ͣ͊̐͜͟F̵̹͈̯̘̣̀̽Ô̲̯͇̪̰̼͕̬͒ͣͪ̎͜R͓͚̱͔͌̍̔͐̓̈̚̕͜ͅ ̺̥͙͐́͟ͅN̲̹̘̤̱̅̊ͨ̀͝E̸̺͉̦̼͇̜͑ͯͭ̀W͈̳͉̘͈͓̅̃͘ ̸̣̜͙͉̀̊ͤ̐͐ͫͣ́͝B̵̨͇͍̟͎̞̦̝̄̎̌L̶̠̲̗̙ͥͮ̚Ŏ̊̋ͬ̉͡͏̞̥̤̫̱̪̝̮O̧̳͇͎͊̆ͭ͗̎ͤD̴̯͔̳̘̘̪̼ͨ̓̆͜ͅ 

[thejedifairy]

when men roll up their sleeves and show their slutty little forearms i wither away like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time

[thejedifairy]

found this one in my meme archives and i think its my 2025 energy

[thejedifairy]

"You don’t trust me, do you? Let me show you how deeply I can care." //

– An argument after a dangerous mission leads to an intense reconciliation.

🔞NSFW CONTENT MDNI🔞 🐦‍⬛word count: 3.3k 🐦‍⬛synopsis: Sylus has had enough of your reckless decisions, but his frustration spirals into something far more heated, be it for the better or the worse. 🐦‍⬛contains: fem!reader x Sylus, rough sex, evol manipulation (energy attraction/detraction), possessive Sylus, biting/marking, praise-(soft) degradation kink, overstimulation, slight angst, masochistic reader, teasing, edging, intense orgasms, breeding kink undertones (but no pregnancy), aftercare, possessive but tender dynamic, the usual. 🐦‍⬛please consider following me for more similar content! 🐦‍⬛read on ao3.

The silence between you was suffocating, punctuated only by the low hum of the sleek car as it glided over the uneven terrain in the middle of nowhere. You were still catching your breath from the mission—the adrenaline crash, the heat of danger still clinging to your skin like a second layer.

Sylus sat rigid in the driver’s seat, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rested on his muscled thigh. His jaw was tight, the sharp line of his profile illuminated by the faint blue glow of the console. You knew he was upset—not at the mission’s success, but at you. For what felt like the hundredth time, his gaze flicked to you, smoldering, questioning, disappointed.

“You could’ve been killed back there,” he finally said, his voice low but cutting. “Do you have a death wish, or were you just trying to piss me off going after that wanderer?”

You bristled, turning to glare at him. “I knew what I was doing, Sylus. I didn’t need you swooping in like I’m some rookie hunter who can’t handle herself.”

“Handle herself?” He snorted, bitter and sharp. “You jumped into an unstable tunnel with no backup and barely made it out with that core. If I hadn’t been there—”

“But you were there,” you snapped, cutting him off, just as pissed off. “You always are. So why the hell are you so mad? You act as if you don't understand the kind of job I do, we do.”

He didn’t answer right away, the tension in the rover thickened like heavy smoke, and it made your throat scratchy. His large hand tightened on the wheel, knuckles pale.

“You don’t trust me,” he said finally, the words quiet but laced with something raw, emotional even. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? You don’t trust me to have your back, so you go and risk everything like it doesn’t matter if you make it out or not.”

“That’s not true,” you protested, though even as you said it, you heard the hesitation in your own voice.

Sylus laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me, kitten. I see it every time you look at me like you’re waiting for me to let you down. Like I’m one bad call away from screwing everything up for you. Well, I’ve got news: I’ve had your back from day one, even when you didn’t want it. Do you not trust me just because I'm in charge of Onychinus?”

The heat in his words matched the fire sparking in your chest. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see how much you care? That’s the problem, Sylus! You care too much, and one of these days, it’s going to get you killed, be it your fucking organization or whatever this is.”

The car jerked to a stop, tires grinding against the dirt. You lurched forward slightly, the sudden halt making your breath catch. When you looked at him, his crimson eyes were burning, molten with something that made your pulse quicken.

“Maybe I care too much,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “But you don’t get to use that as an excuse to push me away.”

Before you could respond, he leaned over, his big hand curling around your small chin, forcing you to meet his sharp red gaze. The air between you crackled, the thin veil of restraint he’d clung to snapping like a frayed tether.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” His thumb brushed against your jaw, rough and unyielding. “Let me show you how deeply I can care.”

The words hit you like a shockwave, stealing the air from your lungs. His lips crashed against yours, hungry, demanding, as if he were trying to pour every unsaid word, every bottled emotion, into that kiss. Your body reacted instinctively, your hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer.

It spiraled from there—his mouth trailing fire down your neck, his hands claiming your body like he was trying to prove a point, to you, to him, it didn't matter.

At some point, he shifted, unbuckling your belt as well as his, pulling you into his lap. The cramped space of the rover was suddenly irrelevant, every thought drowned out by the heat of him, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to this reality.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough against your ear. “Say you trust me.”

You glared at him, defiant even as your body melted under his touch. “You’re such a smug bastard.”

“And you love it,” The silver-haired man shot back, his lips curling into a crooked smirk that was all teeth and arrogance. His hips bucked up sharply, driving a gasp from you as your nails dug into his shoulders. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, kitten. Every time you glare at me, every time you fight me—you just want me to put you in your place.”

His words made your chest tighten, your breath catching as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. He wasn’t wrong. The way he moved, the way he talked, how he always had to have the last word—it drove you insane. And yet here you were, rolling your hips against his large bulge like you couldn’t get enough of it, of him. God, you needed to fuck this man.

“You’re full of yourself,” you managed to gasp, though the edge in your voice was dulled by the pleasure building with every movement.

The leader of Onychinus chuckled, the sound dark and low as he leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Maybe. But you’re the one writhing on top of me, sweetie.”

You wanted to retort, to say something sharp that would wipe the smug look off his face, but the words dissolved into a moan as his hand slid down, pushing your shirt up just enough to expose the curve of your waist. His fingers traced the line of your skin before gripping your hips again, guiding you as you moved on him.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he muttered, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he watched you with a mix of hunger and frustration. “Always running off, always pushing me away—but look at you now, going nearly all pliant on me just because of my cock.”

He thrust up into you, sharp and deliberate, and you cried out, your body arching against him. His hands roamed higher, slipping beneath your shirt to splay against your arched back, pulling you closer until your chest was flush against his.

“Say it,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Say you trust me.”

You bit your lip, defiance flickering in your gaze even as your body betrayed you, moving in perfect rhythm with his. “I—” Your words caught in your throat as his hand slid down, his thumb brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs, through your tight pants.

“Hm, what was that, kitten?” he teased, his smirk widening as he worked you with practiced ease. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fuck, Sylus,” you gasped, your head falling against his shoulder as your nails raked down his muscled arms, through the dark shirt he wore. “I trust you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, his voice raw with emotion now, the teasing edge giving way to something deeper. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

His lips found yours again, the kiss bruising and desperate, and you felt the tension between you snap like a tightly drawn wire. 

Sylus undressing her, teasing her with the tip of his cock, and stretching her out with his fingers first, all while keeping his sharp, in-character tone.

Sylus’s lips left yours, a string of spit still connecting you as he pulled back, crimson eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming with intent. His hands roamed your body with an almost infuriating slowness, tracing every curve, every soft dip of your skin, like he was memorizing you.

“Shirt first,” he murmured, his voice low, like gravel dragged over silk. His long fingers moved to the fabric clinging to your chest, undoing each button with painstaking precision. “It’s in the way.”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your thighs further as he peeled the shirt off your shoulders, his gaze darkening when the fabric fell to your waist. He let his thumb graze over the light lace of your bra, smirking when you shivered.

“Pretty,” he muttered, his tone soft but tinged with something sharper. “Bet you wore this for me, didn’t you, kitten?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could form a single word, his hands slid beneath the fragile straps, tugging the garment down until your tits spilled free. His gaze devoured you, and he let out a low hum of approval before leaning in, his mouth brushing over your collarbone.

“Better,” he murmured, his lips trailing lower. His large hands cupped your breasts, thumbs grazing over your perked-up nipples as he took one into his mouth, sucking softly. The warm, wet drag of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your needy core, your nails scraping against his shoulders in response.

“Sylus,” you gasped, your voice breathy and strained as you rocked against him, desperate for more.

“Patience,” he drawled, releasing your nipple with a soft pop. His hands moved to your waistband, unfastening your pants with the same deliberate slowness that made you want to scream. “I’m going to take my time with you. Can’t have you breaking on me too fast.”

He tugged your pants down, dragging the fabric over your thighs with a roughness that sent a shiver through you as you helped him to get rid of them. His hands lingered on the bare skin he revealed, his fingers tracing patterns that made your breath hitch in ways only he was allowed to witness. When he finally stripped you completely, his gaze raked over you with such intensity that it felt like he was laying you bare in more ways than one.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he shifted beneath you. His own pants were next, the tailored fabric sliding down to reveal thick, muscular thighs and his cock—long, heavy, and already leaking at the pretty tip. You stared, glossed lips agape, and he noticed, his smirk widening as he wrapped a hand around his length.

“I take it you like what you see, hm?” he asked, his tone teasing as he stroked himself slowly, spreading the precum along his length. “Bet you’re already imagining how good it’s going to feel. But not yet.”

Before you could respond, his hand moved to your thigh, spreading you open further on his lap. His fingers trailed up your inner thigh, pausing just before they reached your slick heat over your panties. He let out a low chuckle at the way you squirmed beneath his touch.

“Needy little thing,” he murmured, his tone laced with pure amusement as he pushed your underwear aside. His rough thumb slid through your folds, gathering your arousal and circling your clit with infuriating precision. “Look at you. Pretty fat pussy so wet already. And I haven’t even started.”

You whimpered, your hips jerking against his hand, but he held you down easily with his free arm. He slid one finger inside you, his crimson gaze locked on your face as he curled it just right, making your breath hitch.

“Relax, sweetie,” he muttered, adding a second finger and stretching you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “You can take it. You’re going to have to, if you want this.”

His other hand fell away from your body, wrapping around his cock once more, this time tighter, the tip glistening as he dragged it through your messy folds, mesmerized. The teasing friction made your body ache, your thighs trembling as he tapped the head of his cock against your clit, smearing your sticky glistening arousal over himself.

“See that?” he murmured, his voice dark and low as he watched the way his cock slid against you, slick and obscene. “All of this? That’s mine now. Don’t forget it.”

You moaned, your nails digging into his forearms as he continued to tease you, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance near his fingers before sliding back up to circle your clit again. “Sylus, please—”

“Not until you’re ready,” he cut you off, his fingers thrusting deeper, stretching you until your body softened beneath him. “And when you are, you’ll beg me for it.”

His teasing smirk was still in place as he finally pulled his fingers away then, positioning himself at your entrance. He paused, his crimson gaze locking with yours. “Gonna beg, or no?”

“I want it,” you breathed, your voice trembling but certain. “I want you, Sylus. Please.”

The smirk softened into something deeper, more dangerous, as he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the stretch making you gasp as he filled you completely. He hissed low in his throat, his head falling forward against yours as he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his breath hot against your lips. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

“You asked for it,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he thrust into you, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the cramped space of the car. “Begged for it, actually. So take it.”

His hands gripped your hips with bruising intensity, guiding your movements as you writhed on top of him. Each snap of his hips forced you to take him deeper, harder, the stretch and friction igniting every nerve in your body. Your cries filled the vehicle, but the leader of Onychinus wasn’t satisfied—not yet.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his crimson gaze flicking to where you were joined. “Such a pretty little thing, grinding on me. But I can make you feel even better.”

A faint shimmer of red pulsed from his right eye, and you felt it—an invisible pull, like his hands were everywhere at once. Your body jolted as his Evol flared, the sensation of his energy manipulating the space around you adding an electrifying layer to the way he moved inside you. You gasped as you were pulled downward with more force, his cock driving even deeper, hitting spots that made your vision blur.

“Fuck,” you choked out, your hands bracing against his chest, your nails raking over the taut muscle there. “Sylus—what the hell are you—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, a wicked grin spreading across his face. His right eye glowed brighter, the crimson shimmer swirling like molten fire. “Just making it easier for you to bounce on my cock, sweetie. Thought you wanted it rough? Or do you want it soft? Are you trying to be hard to please?”

The pull of his Evol guided your hips, lifting and dropping you in perfect rhythm with his own thrusts. It was relentless, merciless, and utterly intoxicating. Each time you were forced down, his cock filled you completely, the pressure making your head spin. Your walls clenched around him, and his growl deepened, low and feral. The car was filled with obscene squelching sounds as you both listened to them.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement. “That’s all me, kitten. Every inch of you is mine right now.”

Your thighs trembled as his energy pulsed again, the invisible force amplifying the intensity of every movement. It was overwhelming in the best way, your body arching against his as your cries turned into desperate moans. You clawed at his crumpled black shirt, yanking it open further to expose more of his pale skin.

“God, Sylus,” you gasped, leaning forward to kiss along his neck, your teeth grazing the sharp line of his jaw. “S-so close—”

The crimson shimmer flickered across your body now, the heat of his energy wrapping around you like an extension of him. Every nerve in your body felt alive, hyper-sensitive to his touch, the drag of his cock, the sharp edge of his teeth as he bit down on your shoulder in response.

The bite sent a jolt of pain that melted into goosebumps, your nails digging deeper into his chest as your body instinctively arched into his even more, if that was possible. Sylus growled against your skin, his teeth leaving faint indentations before he soothed the mark with his tongue softly, a possessive gesture that made your breath catch.

“Fuck, I can feel you trembling,” he muttered, his voice thick and gravelly, the faint glow in his eye flaring brighter. His hips snapped up harder, the relentless rhythm of his Evol working with him, pushing you closer to the edge. “You gonna break for me, kitten? Let me feel you fall apart around my cock.”

You whimpered in response, your mind hazy with the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. The heat of his energy, the rough drag of his girthy dick, the way his voice curled around your ears like a command—it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Say it,” The leader of the Onychinus demanded, his hands gripping your plush ass now, the force of his thrusts slamming you down onto him as his Evol guided the motion. The shimmering red energy flickered along your skin where the two of you were connected, a physical manifestation of his control, and the sight of it made your walls flutter around him. “Say who’s fucking you this good.”

“You,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the coil in your core tightened to the point of snapping. “It’s you, Sylus. Only you.”

“Good,” he growled, his grin sharp and dangerous. “And this pretty little pussy? Mine. All mine.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body tightening around him in a vicious grip as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Your vision blurred, and you cried out his name, your nails leaving deep scratches on his chest as you rode out the waves of pleasure. Sylus groaned at the way you clenched around him, his thrusts turning erratic as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” he snarled, his head falling back against the seat as he drove into you one last time, his cock buried to the hilt as he came. His warmth filled you, hot, thick, and overwhelming, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he spilled his cum into you.

For a moment, the world seemed to still, the only sounds the ragged breaths you both struggled to catch. Sylus’s hands softened their hold on you, sliding up to your waist as the crimson shimmer of his Evol faded into nothingness. His other hand brushed the sweat off your brow, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re a goddamn mess,” he muttered, though his tone was softer now, almost fond. His fingers traced lazy circles against your skin as he leaned back to look at you, his smirk returning as his crimson eyes met yours. “A pretty one, though. I’ll give you that.”

You let out a breathless laugh, leaning forward to press a peck to his jaw. “You’re one to talk,” you murmured, your voice still shaky as you settled against his chest. “Look at you. All smug and yet ruined just as much. I wonder what Luke and Kieran would have to say if they saw their boss like this?”

His smirk widened, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer. “Ruined, huh?” he repeated, his voice low and teasing. “Sweetie, from what I believe we’re just getting started.”

[thejedifairy]

[thejedifairy]

HAYMITCH ABERNATHY HEADCANONS .

a lot of people (fanon wise) seem to forget that he's stupidly rich. i think there's been a time or two where he's splurged on an antique or a limited edition of something (e.g, special chess set)

claims to be godless, but keeps his foot in the door as an agnostic.

commonly wins all board games & any card games, too. just really good with that sort of thing.

the upstairs hallway of his home has picture frames of his family, but nobody minus him knows this because he doesn't allow anyone in. refuses to open about them if anyone has seen these prior.

haymitch to me at least seems like he might've always wanted children. imagined a hypothetical living where it was safe and fell short of all of the requirements to father due to the grief and isolation. he would've wanted a daughter or two, af least.

used to be really involved in the sports related stuff at school. always was a good runner and did enjoy things like benchball.

before he initially met maysilee, he knew her sister madeleine (hc name/mrs. undersee) from frequenting the sweet shop they owned when he had saved up a decent amount of allowance. this connection helped them stay in touch after the 50th and grieve maysilee in their own ways together.

broke his house phone after being paranoid that someone was listening in during a withdrawal episode. has also installed security cameras outside his porch in concern for robberies/someone keeping an eye on him.

the alcohol leaves him a bad physical state more often than not, but he's stronger than most would assume + can play up his weakness if needed to appear a certain way to others. a lot of pretending within that.

if he could play an instrument, it'd probably be a harmonica or something. can he sing? shrugs.

his main nicknames are ‘h’ (from chaff,) or mitch, (which he despises.) for a short while, he went by nathe as a teenager.

his middle name is ‘lee’ after the meaning ‘shelter,’ which reminded me of his traits as an older role model for his mentees (e.g katniss and peeta) and a protector of the younger victors in general.

still sleeps with the lights on despite being 40. part trauma/ptsd, part comfort and the idea of light.

[thejedifairy]

Please give us more headcanons i loved all of them!!!

Okay, here we go again with more of my favorite headcanon for my pookie

-Haymitch’s nickname obsession started with Hazel when they were both kids -he called her Hazelnut

-when Haymitch won his fortune after his victory, he decided he would try to help the starving families in Twelve with his money, sneaking out food and supplies for those in critical conditions. However, when a peacekeeper saw what he was doing and whipped the man he was secretly feeding to death, Haymitch vowed to himself that he would not try to help anyone ever again -which didn’t last long, because even though he kept his distance ever since, he still made sure to always buy a bunch of useless stuff on the seam so he could overpay the traders

-Haymitch and Effie’s relationship was never more than casual sex during their time working together. They were close friends, partners, sex buddies, and that was it. While they had strong feelings for each other, it was more genuine care between partners than actual love. She was his friend -so in thirteen, when he was hurt because of her arrest, it wasn’t due to some sort of love story, but because he had just lost his closest friend as a result of something he did

-before he snatched his phone out of the wall, Haymitch had weekly phone calls with his fellow victors, like Chaff, Seeder, Finnick and Beetee

-Haymitch had a lot of panic attacks during his years mentoring, to the point of Effie developing her own method to coax him out of it when it got too bad

-He slept with Johana once when they were both absurdly drunk and that was one of the biggest regrets of his life -no one but Chaff, Jo and Finnick knew about that because he was too ashamed

-Haymitch and Effie worked really well together. Even though they were always arguing and disagreeing with each other about everything, they could always read each other minds through their eyes, predicting what they was about to do or say

-the pocket watch he is always wearing with his vests was a present from Megs for his third year as a Mentor, cause he was always late for the games related events -he pretended to recent her for mocking him about his lack of interest, but still kept the gift with fondness for the rest of his life

-during the bombing in Thirteen, Haymitch left command to stay with Sae in her bad, snugged against her side while she stroked his hair. If he was going to die, he wanted to do it with his family (or the closest thing of a family he still had)

-Haymitch liked the idea of having a family of his own someday and one of his biggest resentments was having been deprived of the chance to be a father

| sorry for taking so long to respond you |

[thejedifairy]

Headcannon alphabet!

A- Annie cresta‘a love language is acts of service, she loves doing your hair if you’re struggling, or helping you clean your room if you have zero motivation.

B- Beetee: If you’re strategic like him, the two of you enjoy playing games like chess or solving puzzles together. These sessions often end in playful banter as you try to outwit each other.

C- Cato: If you’re a skilled fighter, Cato loves sparring with you. It’s one of his ways of bonding and showing his respect for your abilities, If you’re not as skilled, he becomes a surprisingly patient teacher, guiding you through combat techniques and encouraging you to push your limits.

D- 😓😓😓😓😓

E- Effie: Effie loves dressing you up and choosing outfits that complement both your personality and her signature style. She’ll insist on matching accessories and won’t rest until you’re satisfied with your look. Even if you’re more casual, she respects your style and always finds ways to make you feel special.

F- finnick: Finnick Odair, with all his charm and playful flirtation, holds a special softness just for you. Beneath the confident exterior, he treasures the moments where you truly see him for who he is—vulnerable, scarred, but loved. He adores when you play with his hair, your fingers running through the strands as he leans into your touch, his eyes closing in contentment. It’s in those quiet moments that he feels at peace, where his guarded heart is entirely yours. He loves the way you make him feel safe enough to shed his bravado, where simple acts—like you brushing his hair or tracing patterns on his hand—mean more to him than any grand gesture. Finnick finds comfort in your presence, and he cherishes when you’re close, pulling you into his arms after a nightmare or when the weight of the world feels too much. Your love has become a refuge for him, a reminder that despite everything he’s endured, he’s worthy of such simple, precious moments of happiness.

G- Gale Hawthorne’s: strength is undeniable, but with you, he lets down his guard in the most intimate ways. He loves the feel of your hand in his, the warmth of your fingers weaving through his, and the way it calms the storm inside him. After long days of fighting and planning, he finds solace in the simple act of you resting your head on his shoulder, your breathing steadying him as he holds you close, his arm draped around you. He pulls you into his chest in moments of vulnerability, whispering softly, “I’ll protect you. Always,” with that quiet intensity you know so well. When you’re close, he tends to pull you into his space, his lips brushing your forehead or the top of your head, as if marking his territory in the most loving way, Gale is not one for grand gestures, but he shows his affection in the way he holds you during the darkest nights, his lips brushing against your skin, and in the way his rough fingers gently caress your face when he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. You’ve seen him at his angriest, but it’s in those quiet moments with you that his heart softens. “You’re the only thing that makes sense to me,” he’ll whisper as he presses a kiss to your temple. With you, Gale is not the rebellious hero; he’s just a man who loves you fiercely, and when he holds you, it’s as if nothing else matters in the world.

H- haymitch: Haymitch Abernathy is rough around the edges, but with you, he’s surprisingly tender. He often shows his affection through small, subtle gestures—like offering you a drink when you’re stressed or pulling you into a rare, quiet hug after a long day. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s blunt and honest, like, “You’re not as annoying as I thought.” His kisses are rare but meaningful, lingering with a quiet intensity that shows how much you mean to him. When the world feels too heavy, he’ll find solace in your presence, letting you in just enough to show you his true self, the one that cares more than he lets on.

I- 😓😓😓😓😓😓😓

J- Johanna Mason: is sharp, direct, and never one to sugarcoat things, but with you, her affection shows in the little moments. She might say, “I’m only nice to you because you’re not completely annoying,” but her eyes tell a different story. When you’re close, she’ll mutter, “Don’t get used to this, alright?” as she pulls you in for a rare hug. Johanna loves teasing you, saying things like, “You’re lucky I like you,” or “Don’t make me regret this, sweetheart,” but her actions always speak louder than her words. When she kisses you, it’s fierce and unspoken, a promise that she’ll always have your back, even if she doesn’t always show it.

K- Katniss Everdeen: is strong, independent, and often reserved, but with you, she lets her guard down. She’ll pull you into her arms after a long day, murmuring, “Stay close,” her way of saying she needs you. Katniss loves quiet moments, like sitting by the fire or hunting together in the woods. If you’re having a bad day, she’ll quietly hand you her favorite food or something she knows will comfort you, saying, “I thought you might need this.” Her affection is subtle but genuine, like when she brushes your hair out of your face and says, “Don’t be so stubborn.” Her love is in the little things—protecting you, silently supporting you, and showing her care without needing many words.

L- 😥

M- Madge: shows affection with small, thoughtful gestures. She might say, “I thought you’d like this,” while handing you a flower or a book. When you’re feeling down, she quietly sits with you, offering comfort without needing many words. She’d softly say, “Be safe out there,” or simply enjoy peaceful moments together, showing her love in subtle, caring ways.

N- 😓

O-😓

P- Peeta Mellark: is kind, selfless, and always puts others first. He loves comforting you with simple words like, “You’re not alone,” and shows his affection through small acts of kindness—whether it’s baking you bread or gently holding your hand during tough moments. His love is steady and unconditional, always ready to reassure you with a soft smile or a quiet, “I’ll always be here.” Peeta’s the type to protect you in any way he can, and his heart is all yours.

Q- 😓

R-😓

S- 😓

T- Thresh: is a man of few words, but when he speaks, it’s always meaningful. He’s fiercely protective of those he cares about, especially Rue, and his actions always speak louder than words. He might tell you, “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” his tone calm but determined. Thresh doesn’t need to say much to show he cares—whether it’s silently watching over you or sharing a moment of quiet understanding. He values loyalty above all, and when he says, “You’re not alone,” you know he means it, no matter how little he says.

U- 😓😓😓

V- 😓😓😓

W- Wiress: is quiet, observant, and always looking for patterns. She might say, “I’ll figure it out,” while tinkering with something, focused on solving problems in her own unique way. When she cares, she shows it by offering practical help—whether it’s fixing something for you or just staying by your side. She’d often say, “Don’t worry, I’m here,” in her calm, reassuring tone. Wiress isn’t big on words, but her actions speak volumes, and she’s always there when you need her.

X- 😓😓😓

Y- 😓

Z-😓

______________

IM FINALLY DONE!! this took me so long too do, repost and likes are very appreciated ^^



[thejedifairy]

Bad Batch Incorrect Quotes

Rex: So, how's adjusting to your new squad going? Echo: Well, my net worth has certainly gone up. Rex: *confused* Uh, what? Echo: Yeah, you know. What you're worth when you're caught in a net. Rex: Rex: I'm sorry can you please explain that. Echo: We were running out of fuel on our last assignment so we landed in a Separatist port and Hunter put on a disguise and turned Tech in. We got six thousand credits for him. Rex: Six. Thousand? Echo: Yeah, turns out he's the lowest-value option at the moment, but Wrecker said he got turned in the last time. He's worth ten thousand, because he's blown up, like, a ton of important stuff, apparently. Hunter and Cross are probably in the eleven to twelve k range but they can't agree on who's worth more. Rex: Rex: You sold your brother!!!??? Crosshair: *offscreen* Are you even brothers if you haven't sold each other once? Tech: When we were cadets I sold Crosshair to Hunter for two credits. Crosshair: Those were imaginary credits, Tech. Tech: Which was the agreed-upon currency at the time. That transaction has never been voided, by the way. Legally, you still belong to Hunter. Hunter: Please, void it. I don't want him anymore. Here, take your two fake credits. Wrecker: Don't say that! Come here, Crosshair. I want you. Rex: *still on the comm* YOU SOLD YOUR BROTHER? Echo: We obviously got him back, Rex. Chill out. We fueled up in like ten minutes and went to retrieve him. He's fine. Rex: So you sold him and then you stole him BACK? Tech: Obviously. This squad would not survive without me for longer than the time it takes to refuel. That is why we usually sell Hunter or Wrecker. Additionally, they do not require extraction as they usually do that on their own.

Echo: I'm worth three thousand at the moment. But ten thousand is coming, wait and see! Rex: *frightened ori'vod noises*

[thejedifairy]

Being in her hometown this close to the holidays brought back unpleasant memories for Lucy. Sure, she recalled the festive trees, donned with tinsel and ornaments, the way the Christmas lights glimmered like stars against the dark night, but more than that, she recalled the loneliness she felt each year as her father spent the holidays slaving away in his office, celebrating alone while all the house staff returned to their own families for the holidays.

It was lonely time in an already isolated childhood, and being back here bought a sense of unease, even after all those years.

During those times, she found solace in sneaking out to walk along the streets of the nearest neighbourhood, something she was sure her father would be none too happy to hear about, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. While the homes were not nearly as extravagant as her own, it was still an extremely well-off area, and each year families would complete in a rich person dick-measuring contest that involved decorating their homes with as many brilliant lights as they could muster, racking up an electricity bill that within one night could probably cover her rent for an entire month. Each house was donned with festive decorations, strings of lights lining the rooves and windows in their best attempts to look like a real-life gingerbread house. Pathways were lined with light up candy canes, surrounded by brilliant arches, beautifully lit up, covered in tinsel of every colour of the rainbow. Animatronic Santa’s and handsome looking snowmen – both real and fake – would beckon you into their front yards to admire the work some poor sod had spent days setting up, only for it to all come down at the end of the month.

Walking those streets on her own had provided Lucy with some of her dearest memories of the holidays as a child.

A crisp white envelope sat neatly in front of the snow dusted gravestone, its contents kept sealed, only for the eyes of its long-deceased recipients. It had become something of a tradition for Lucy, a final send off for the year before the holidays came about and she became too busy to share her memories of the past year with her parents. Though the place brought back less than pleasant memories for her, the company in which she shared it much it much more tolerable.

Rising from her spot kneeling in the snow, she turned to find her companions, standing only a few feet behind, waiting patiently for her to join them.

“All finished?”

With a smile, Lucy nodded, lightly jogging up to meet him before she looped her arm around his, ready to make their trek back into town.

“Bye Lucy’s mom and dad!” Happy chirped as the three of them made their exit.

“See ya Jude and Layla,” Natsu chimed in, eliciting a soft smile from Lucy.

With one last look over her shoulder, Lucy joined in her last goodbye of the year.

“Bye mom, bye dad.”

Although the hour was not particularly late, the sun had already begun its descent over the horizon, which combined with the low winter temperatures, would keep them in town for one more night before they made their way back to Magnolia.

“Anything else before we head back?” Natsu asked.

“Actually,” she mused, “there’s one more place I wanted to stop by.”

For as long as Natsu had known, the guild had always been decked out for the holidays for all of Magnolia to enjoy, but this? This was something else entirely.

His mouth was agape as he stood in awe of the lights and décor that donned every house as far as the eye could see. Happy let out a delighted cheer as he flew up above them, taking in the sight from his vantage point as Natsu was frozen in place with awe. Lucy let out a small hum of satisfaction at their reactions, joy swelling up within her heart as she watched them experience something that had been so close to her heart as a child.

“Well?” Lucy asked, holding out his hand to him

He turned to face her, and gave her a smile that was even more dazzling than any of the lights, and took her hand in his before dragging her down the street to admire even more of the sights. At the sudden tug, Lucy stumbled a little as her feet moved quickly to catch up with him, and she let out a laugh at his antics.

She was well aware of the stares they were getting from others that roamed the streets as he dragged her by the hand, her legs working desperately to keep up with him as he led her to each house he wanted to admire. At every stop she had to pause to catch her breath, clinging onto his arm as he and Happy chattered on in delight.

Their eyes were glued to the fanciful homes before them, but Lucy couldn’t tear her gaze away from Natsu, the way the glow of the lights lit him up in the darkness of the cool winter night. It didn’t take him long for him to feel her gaze on him. Turning to meet it, he flashed her a smile, that she returned with equal enthusiasm.

In that moment, nothing else really mattered to her, not the bad memories, not even the sting of the cool air hitting her skin. Her heart fluttered as he pulled her into his side, her arms not hesitating to wrap around his waist before she rested her head against his shoulder, taking in all of his warmth and love.

She had never considered herself to be Lucky Lucy, with all the sorrow and misfortune of her early years, but right now in this moment, locked arm in arm with her best friend, her partner, her one, she felt that perhaps now, the name was rather befitting.

[thejedifairy]

Haymitch Abernathy Headcannons

first time writing any headcannons PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK!!!!!

kinda short because i need advice on how to improve these <3

mentions of alcoholism

(shitty) HAYMITCH HEADCANNONS

- Haymitch who has never held hands with a woman until you and gets cocky over it

- Haymitch who sobers up a little bit any time you make eye contact

- Haymitch who WILL cut your supply off if you start to seem half as dependant as he is

- Haymitch who fought with you about his habit of sleeping with a knife and the compromise was to switch it with a butter knife

- Haymitch who kisses all over your face any chance he gets, leaving slobbery, stinky marks

- Haymitch who keeps ahold of you any time you're in public, no matter what

- Haymitch who will force the sidewalk rule from day one (even though there's no cars in district 12)

DISTRICT 13 HC

- Haymitch who fought Coin for weeks before you made it to 13 for your shared space

- Haymitch who held your hands to stop your trembles from the withdrawls even though he was shaking harder

- Haymitch who will squeeze you so tight it hurts when you're both trying to sleep off the need

- Haymitch who refused to assist Coin in anything to do with the Mockingjay project if you weren't involved, insisting he needed you as his emotional support animal

-Haymitch who lets you braid his hair to distract yourself

[thejedifairy]

cape

[thejedifairy]

crosscember day 6: plaid scarf cross crosshair found a new favorite scarf

nonsense below

wow ting that's three pieces in a day. yeah thanks voice in my head, blame the fact that my peak hour of performance is 3 am :P. yeah it was a very productive day, but i'm gonna regret this in the morning (realistically afternoon when i manage to wake up). i'd say i'm never doing this to myself again, but realistically, it's gonna happen. such is life :l

[thejedifairy]

that feeling when you get a brand new story idea, but it literally has no plot yet, just vibes>>