#Planets: Nar Shaddaa

[frauleiiin]

Nar Shaddaa - Home

#swtor #Star Wars The Old Republic #star wars #oc #star wars oc #mirialan #smuggler #Kaaydan #he hates this planet as much as he loves it #his adoptive mom makes all the difference #she's the only reason why he can call nar shaddaa home

[artemissoteira]

i don’t care what any soundtrack says btw the correct order is nar shaddaa > dantooine > dxun/iziz > korriban > m4-78 > iziz palace

#optionally starting dantooine before nar shaddaa if you want to rush finishing HK / converting bao-dur #m4-78 is the restored content droid planet that slots in after korriban instead of just finding the jedi master dead in a cell #fuck i'm in danger of going back to kotor 2 aren't i

[hyperactively-me]

on the run

“Ah, it's fine, I’ll just need some bacta patches and it’ll be fine. Besides, it's just a bruise” you say quietly, your face flushing. “I’m going to kill him” Din rasped, taking your hands in a movement to pull you to standing. 

just wanted to ask you guys to please read this

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: canon typical violence

You were uneasy about this job from when it was first proposed. You felt a pit in the depths of your stomach that signaled that something did not feel right. Although you understood why Din was so eager about accepting the job. He wanted more credits to upgrade parts of his ship and armor. You tried everything you could to push these feelings of doubt away but to no avail. Approaching Din about the job only turned into a heated argument about how it was necessary to ensure a few weeks worth of credits. 

Things got a little dicey. Okay, more than a little dicey. You were currently fending for yourself against two cronies employed by a prominent spice lord on Nar Shaddaa. Nar Shaddaa, of all places. Din could have picked any other planet, but no, there’s too many commissions on Nar Shaddaa to turn this down, besides, with this mission, I could earn a lot of credits. I’ll be fine, I’ve probably encountered worse before. 

Nar Shaddaa is a cosmopolitan planet practically owned by the Hutts, crime and lawlessness was bursting from every sidewalk, market, and building. An overabundance of illegal activity permeated the streets, every nook and cranny of the metropolitan planet corrupt. 

Din took on a job hunting down the leader of a high profile crime ring in the heart of the city. He took on the assignment knowing the risks and dangers, but, who was Din if he ever turned down an opportunity like this? An opportunity to return to the company after taking down a criminal that no one else could take down. Coming back to the guild and earning an even higher degree of respect? Oh, he said it was just too good to turn down, we’ll be fine, I can handle it. You decided to help him on his mission because the more muscle he had, the higher his chances of success were.

So of course, he managed to infiltrate the ring and blow it up from the inside out, creating pandemonium in the streets.

In the midst of the chaos that arose from the raid, you both managed to get separated, desperately fighting for each of your survival, focused on coming out alive. 

So here we are now, you’re shaken to your core as you play a lethal game of tag. Your heart threatens to beat out of its chest as you snap your head backwards only to see how hot on your tail the two bounty hunters were to you.

You touch your earpiece connecting you to Din and cry out “Din! I’m being tailed by two guys, where the kriff are you?”

A tall and burly Trandoshan was gaining on you whilst an orange-skinned Twi’lek dodged the crowded street. Deep and heavy breaths escape your dry throat as you focus all your brain power on formulating a plan and escaping without getting yourself killed, or worse, taken.  

“Din, I don’t know if you can hear me, but so help me Maker, I need a little assistance right now so it would be wonderful if you showed up.” You tried to make yourself sound angry and demanding, but in truth, you were scared for your life. 

Continuously dodging innocent bystanders and merchant stands take a toll on your stamina, slowing you down as you concentrate on where your feet are landing. The ringing noise of blaster shots rang out from behind you, causing you to duck your head in an attempt to protect yourself, just for precaution. You start heaving, trying to gulp air into your lungs like it's the last thing you can do to save yourself from collapsing from exhaustion. You look back once more and let out a loud yelp as the Trandoshan’s grubby hands were barely grazing the back of your shirt. You felt your blood run cold and your heart stopped beating for a split second, the adrenaline pumping through you fading. 

It was too late before you realized you lost sight of the Twi’lek when an orange blur came hurtling into your side, effectively ending the pursuit and toppling you over onto the uneven stones. 

Your vision goes hazy and you realize you can’t breathe. Your breaths are shallow and labored and your eyes struggle to focus. 

No no no please no I can’t stop now you panic, trying to set your brain straight after the impact.

A haze of orange and a mass of an alien face clouds your vision before you feel rough hands yanking your arms up in an attempt to set you up straight. Your head lurches forward and you screw your eyes shut in an attempt to focus your vision. The Trandoshan is manhandling you, and as a final attempt to break free, you resort to a classic self-defense trick. You knee him right in the groin.

He drops your arms quickly and doubles over, groaning in pain, and before he can stop you, you take off running. Or at least you think you’re running. Your head is pounding and your vision is streaked with black dots. You only get so far before the Twi’lek tackles you again, this time effectively taking you down. 

Everything is too much, the scene around you is too much. Everything hurts. Everything is too bright, too loud, too rough. The Twi’lek lets out a cruel snicker and slaps binders on your wrists before dragging you standing upwards. You falter, not capable of standing on your feet after the two collisions by two men who are much larger in stature than you. 

“Well well, you thought you could do that and just get away with it?” the Trandoshan sneers as he stalks over to you and the Twi’lek. As your vision begins to clear, you take note of the large, shiny knife in his possession. Your face pales a bit as you look up at the angry Trandoshan’s face. 

He raises his hand, and without hesitation, slaps you straight across the face. You falter from the contact as the Twi’lek catches you before you crumple over completely. He laughs maniacally before throwing your body over his shoulder. Tears flood your vision, your face stinging like a million wasps stung your face. 

Well that’s gonna leave a lovely mark. You winced at the thought of Din seeing the hand print on your face, not because you were scared of him, but because you were scared for the well-being of the Trandoshan. 

Your world bobs up and down as your two captors navigate back to their base. You catch bits of the mens’ conversation, trying your best to piece together any useful information you could. You send out a silent prayer that Din is alright, and that he’ll show up and you’ll both be fine, because right now, you were panicking. Usually you both had each other's backs in strenuous situations like this, and more often than not, you were both able to withstand more hits and blows. But being carried back to a now dead crime lord’s haven led by Maker knows who was a new low for you. 

You start to thrash in your captor’s grip, smacking your bound wrists against his stiff back with all your might. 

“What the- hey, cut that out” he grumbles, not amused with your poor attempts to stop him. 

“Kriff you” you bite out angrily, upset that you’re now their hostage, upset that you weren’t capable enough of defending yourself in this situation, and torn over the fact that you haven’t heard anything from Din in a while. You hadn’t heard anything from him in a while…

Maybe he was captured? you thought. Yeah, a guy like Din, a man notorious for his elusiveness and strategic logic is definitely captured right now. But he wouldn’t leave me, right? Right? Unless…he probably did leave you, like how everyone else you cared about in the past did. Maker, I really thought we had something. You hold back a sob as it builds up in your throat. You had hope that Din saw you as something more, after everything you’ve been through. Or maybe he was captured. Or even worse…don't even think about that. 

The side of your cheek where you were slapped begins to throb, swelling from the harsh impact of the greasy slimeball’s burly hand. A bruise was bound to erupt from the site of damage. 

All of a sudden you hear the Trandoshan scream out, followed by a crunch and a thud. The Twi’lek becomes rigid, fingernails digging harshly into the back of your knees as he slowly backs away from whatever or whoever attacked the Trandoshan. You tense under his grip, unaware of what is presenting the danger, and you begin to squirm under his grip. 

Next thing you know, the Twi’lek body slams you onto the cold ground, knocking the wind out of your lungs, leaving you dizzy and disoriented from the sudden aggression. He digs his steel-toed boot deep into your chest, pressing against your abdomen with enough force to cause potential bruising. You glance upward at the Twi’lek hovering over you and a glint of metal catches your eye. He has a blaster pointed right at your chest. Your breath catches in your throat and your mouth dries. 

“I suggest you don’t take another step towards me, otherwise I’ll shoot her” the Twi’lek calls out to the mystery person in front of you. 

Your heart halts in your chest, breath slows as you realize the gravity of the situation. You were practically helpless, incapable of making any move without potentially ending your life. You still under his boot, attempting to assess the situation. 

The air around you stills, a chill runs up your spine. 

“I think you’ve got someone that doesn’t belong to you. If you return her to me unharmed, I might just let you live” a gravelly and husky voice calls out lazily. That voice. Din’s voice. 

He came you practically cried out of desperation and relief. You strain your neck backwards to look at him. As soon as you make eye contact with his visor you flash him a weak smile to let him know that you’re relieved and glad to see him.

His form relaxes slightly as you hope you make eye contact with him through the dark visor of his helmet. Something seems to flash over his demeanor, but the moment is gone within a second. He turns back to the Twi’lek, who still has the blaster trained at your chest.

“Oh, you might just let me live. How wonderful. But I’m afraid I can’t let that happen, so either let me get through or the girl dies” the Twi’lek shouts out as he shoves the blaster closer to your chest. 

“Alright, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you” Din calls out quickly before whipping out his own blaster. Before the Twi’lek can even register what’s happening, Din shoots the man straight in the chest. 

The Twi’lek crumples, folding in on himself before falling over onto his side, lifeless. You scramble on the stones, pushing yourself away from the body as fast as you can while still restrained.

You hear Din call out your name as he rushes to your side, dropping to his knees without hesitation.

“Are you hurt?” his hands roam up and down your body, assessing it for any damage before sighing with relief that there were no broken bones or blood. 

You let your head rest on the ground, taking gulps of air as your anxiety lessened. 

“I- I guess I’m fine. Just shaken up a bit” you croak out, pulling at the metal cuffs rubbing away at the skin around your wrists.

He gently grabs hold of your wrists, his eyes narrowing as he inspects the cuffs. 

“Give me a sec” he says distractedly, rummaging through his utility belt for a tool that could free you from your confinements. A moment goes by before he whips out a lock-picker of some sort. He slots the gadget into the small keyhole on your cuffs, jiggling it around before a small click rang through the air. The cuffs dropped to the ground and you let out a hiss at the raw skin. 

“Thanks” you whisper before gently sitting up, grimacing as you go.

“Your face…” Din points out, his voice hushed and severe. “What did they do to you?” He sounds ready to pounce, prepared to tear apart anyone who hurt you. 

His hand reaches up to touch the mark that’s now flourishing into a bruise on your cheek, and you wince as he applies a slight pressure to the mark. 

“Ah, it's fine, I’ll just need some bacta patches and it’ll be fine. Besides, it's just a bruise” you say  quietly, your face flushing.

“I’m going to kill him” Din rasped, taking your hands in a movement to pull you to standing. 

“I think you already did…” you grimace as you look over to the Trandoshan laying face down lifeless on the ground.

“Oh…less work for me then” he huffed out. 

You slightly falter when he pulls you completely up, head still spinning from the hits you took while trying to fight them off. Din catches you with a quick inhale, wrapping his strong arms around your back and under your arm to support you as you both walk back to the ship. 

As you continue to walk in silence, you can almost feel the anger rolling off Din, his helmet set straight ahead. 

As your adrenaline wears off from the scuffle, you remember how you even got in this situation to begin with: Din was nowhere to be found and unresponsive.

“Din, where the kriff were you? I needed you back there” you implored, your mind was racing and hot tears began to prick the corners of your eyes.

“I was-” he starts quietly before you relentlessly cut him off.

“Where? I really needed you back there, I was so scared and I thought you died! What happened?” you cry out, a wave of emotion crashing down on you. You try to pull yourself away from his grip, slightly thrashing in his arms. 

“Stop, you’re only going to worsen your injuries” he says slowly, eyes looking everywhere but yours. 

“No, I thought you left me. I really thought you felt nothing between us, thought you were using me for your own benefit! Don’t you understand?” you successfully free yourself from his stronghold on you and you begin hitting his chest with your hands fisted. 

Din stares you down, unmoving from his position. He sighs as he grabs hold of your fists, pulling them away and holding them to stop your attacks.

“Listen, I did what I had to do back there. If I hadn’t diverged from where you were going, neither of us would be alive” his jaw ticked as he seethed. 

You stopped and gazed up into the darkness of his visor, the strong grip he had on your fists loosen until he dropped them completely.

“Okay…but don’t pull stupid stunts like that without telling me first. I really thought you left me” a watery voice replaces your anger like whiplash.

Din relaxes, and pulls you tight against his chest in a reassuring hug.

“I would never leave you. Ever. I have a responsibility to protect you, and I didn’t fulfill that responsibility. I’m sorry” he reassured, arms tightening around your torso. 

Your arms wrap around his own torso, and you turn your un-bruised cheek against his chest, eyes overflowing with tears. 

His right hand comes up to rest in your hair, pressing his chest more firmly into it.

“You swear?” you question through a sniffle.

“I promise.”

#➶-͙˚ ༘✶ din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fluff #din dijarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin one shot #din dijarin fanfiction #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolarian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fan fiction #mando x reader #mandalorian imagine #grogu #star wars #hyperactivelyme

[eorzeashan]

Hatsune Le'kku was a neon blue virtual twi'lek pop idol created to offset the harm and obsession with real twi'leks in Hutt space, but what her creators didn't expect was for her to grow so massively popular that her concerts on Nar Shaddaa sent the entire planet into lockdown because the crowds filled every venue and caused such massive traffic jams that it became impossible to get offworld. Certain Hutts have bought out entire stands of her merch, even making it mandatory for all club holoscreens to stream her when they arrive. Sugoi!

#swtor #ooc #hatsune miku #dr ogurrobb may or may not have had a phase with her.

[attonposting]

I tend to think that for the most part, Atton has the Ebon Hawk's crew fooled. He's not perfect, he lets things slip, but overall he is good at playing the scruffy smuggler and the people around him don't see him as anything more than an unreliable and annoying pilot. Give credit where it's due, this guy managed to fool Kreia for the entirety of Telos, and then she cheated by using the Bash option on his brain while the Exile was stuck with Security: Impossible for a couple of planets.

Obviously those two know the truth, and Brianna had the benefit of Echani training to sniff him out, but that's not the baseline. Atton got astonishingly unlucky with his company between probationary Sith Lords and empathic black holes. I generally don't think anyone else looks at him and thinks something doesn't add up… minus one.

I really love Mira. I definitely have a thing for the scrappy irreverent ones, and Chaotic Good will always be my favorite flavor of hero-adjacent. But I'm not just playing with my favorites like a bunch of dolls (...though I also do that.) Mira outright calls Atton out on his bullshit in one of the Ebon Hawk 'btw, your crewmates hate each other' cutscenes, alongside roasting him within an inch of his life like he deserves, and even threatens that she's going to figure out what his deal is. She doesn't know what's up, and I don't think 'elite Sith assassin' or 'ex Jedi hunter' is high on her list of guesses. But she knows that something's wrong with the picture.

Part of it is that like him, Mira's very observant. Setting aside the actual Mandalorian slave childhood of working with explosives, wherein you are either alert or very dead... it's a simple fact of life on the Shad that you either shape up or you end up under someone's boot, and one of the first lessons the Smuggler's Moon teaches you is to keep both eyes on everyone around you. She watches people – heck, casing people is explicitly her Special Unique Force Power. So when Atton accidentally shares things he shouldn't know, Mira's watching.

But she also has the dubious benefit of keeping company with bounty hunters… and as she personally notes, the profession has, in recent history, lost its way. To the current guild, there's very little difference between a bounty hunter and an assassin, and many of her competitors on Nar Shaddaa are straight-up contract killers. I know that this was meant to be part of a cut plot involving the GenoHaradan... but also consider that a decade of full galactic war just ended, and there's a lot of restless ex-soldiers filtering into every profession where being good at killing is a job requirement.

So I think she'd recognize pretty quick that while Atton plays the idiot, when there's an actual situation underway, the act chinks. He's way more competent in a fight than your standard freighter pilot should be, illegal cargo or no. He's not especially strong or anything - if you've got a stuck jar of space pickles, you go to Bao-Dur - and his accuracy is decent but she's known better shots, but that's not really it. It's the way he moves. Mira's seen it before. It's too efficient for some two-cred Exchange runner. He's got professional training, and she's pretty sure they don't teach you to snap necks like that in the Republic Navy.

All of that to say, she's pretty sure he's on their side, or at least the Exile's side... but she's always got one hand near her blaster where he's involved.

#atton rand #mira #mira the bounty hunter #kotor ii #kotor 2 #how do you tag mira... #girl get yourself a last name

[vihola]

OC fact swap - kinda randomly because I don't remember if I have ever talk about my swtor ocs here but anyway

My disaster chiss siblings Cami and Johan fuck of to Nar Shaddaa when they are 12 and 14 and live there on the streets for five years. They'll go their separate ways then but will meet again at some point, I haven't completely decided when though.

After Yla runs away from the Empire, she travels to Nar Shaddaa because she heard that this planet is perfect for someone like her – a no-name willing to do anything to survive. She starts with her friend, but they soon part ways because the friend gets recruited by the Jedi Order. Yla is left behind, but she knows how to take care of herself just fine. And that's how her criminal career begins.

#swtor #I love dramatic family reunions so let the siblings meet again #I wonder if they were on Nar Shaddaa at the same time as Yla? #they could have some shenanigans together #yla

[dindjarinandlysakane]

The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 52 - My kar’ta

When Din Djarin meets a beautiful cake seller from Nevarro, do you think he’s just going to stand back and let her suffer at the hands of her abusive boyfriend? After a lifetime of heartache and pain, Lysa Kane realises she’s not on her own any more and finds an unlikely friend in the Mandalorian. And Din Djarin does not like men who treat women like that, not one tiny bit. Friendship/comfort and maybe something more…

Masterlist

Chapter 52 - My kar'ta

------

**This chapter contains brief NSFW content. 18+ only**

The night sky over the cool Nevarro desert was inky black, with every single star visible, twinkling overhead.

It was a stark contrast from the weather just a few hours prior, where a grumbling thunderstorm had belted down rain for over an hour.

The ground underfoot was still damp- the first thing Din noticed as he jumped from his N-1 Starfighter, and his boots hit the, normally, dusty earth just a little way from his small cabin.

Din and Grogu had been out since dawn. Having received a message on the wrist-comm from Carson Teva, who wanted to meet with them to discuss business in a quiet, back-street bar in Mos Eisley.

The meeting had been interesting, with Teva pretty much assuring Din that with the troubles the New Republic seemed to be having with bandits and outlaws on the Outer Rim, he would be kept well topped up with credits for the next Standard year at least!

On the long journey home, Grogu had fallen fast asleep against Din’s shoulder. Snoring softly.

Leaving Din eager to get home, pushing his Starfighter to its limits on the return journey.

It had been Din’s first trip off-planet since arriving back from Nar Shaddaa a little over a week ago. And the Mandalorian was keen to get home and see Lysa. Today having also been the first day that she had ventured into the city, since making her last delivery all those days prior.

Din had spent all of the previous evening showing Lysa how to properly use the speeder bike, which had been a fun couple of hours. At first Din had been rattled to see Lysa speed off, looking like she had little-to-no control over the vehicle in question. But he had been wrong to doubt her. And within just ten minutes she had mastered the precarious speeder easily, enjoying how exhilaratingly fast it moved compared to her sluggish and ancient old landspeeder.

They had made sure that the basket could easily hook onto the back, which it did, even providing Grogu with a fun place to sit, giggling and cooing happily as Lysa did laps of the cabin at a speed. As Din had chuckled beneath his helmet, watching them from the porch, muscular arms folded over his beskar plated chest.

But the basket had been unhooked for now, with Lysa informing Din that she didn't quite want to start back making deliveries yet. Instead wanting to take today to head into town and settle up with a few of the vendors she owed money to for their ingredients, and collect a few things she needed.

She had seemed to him over the last couple of days, a different person to that of a week ago, when she had first woken from her fever, upset and traumatised. Now it was as though that light had returned to her eyes. Her shoulders having untensed and that worried frown slipping slowly away as the days went on.

Din had savoured her closeness this past week, his chest constricting when he was near to her, unable to help the smile that slipped its way into his features when he looked her way. Knowing now that no matter what happened between them now, Din’s heart would forever be hers.

The lights were on inside the cabin now, but they were dimmed, signalling to him that Lysa was likely already in bed. With her having left the lights on low, knowing that he would see them as his ship circled overhead, welcoming him home.

As Din arrived at the top step of his porch, he approached the front door watching as it slid open.

Quietly he went inside only to find Lysa half way across the room, having returned from using the Refresher. Dressed in just her usual short, this time- pale green slip, that ended at her smooth thighs, and bare feet. Looking like an angelic vision to Din.

She smiled happily at their sudden presence, tucking a long strand of mussed-up long blonde hair behind her ear.

He noted that she must have been sleeping, likely roused by the noise from the N-1 landing just outside. The next time he was to arrive back so late he would make sure to park up a little distance away, as not to disturb her. But in a selfish way, he now was glad that he had interrupted her sleep, to allow himself the chance to look at her now, smiling back at him in the twilight.

Lysa’s eyes swiftly fell to the sleeping Grogu still nestled in Din’s arms and her face softened to one of adoration.

“Has he been sleeping long?” she said with a whisper.

Din angled his gaze down to his son as best he could with his helmet half obscuring his view.

“An hour or two,” he commented. “I’m going to put him down and then get freshened up. A Tatooine summer is no joke.”

He watched as Lysa offered him a smile, wrinkling her nose affectionately as she did so. Before she approached, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the very top of Grogu’s head.

Din felt a swell of pride as he gazed down at them both, realising then just how lucky he truly was.

Pulling back carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping child, Lysa gently passed the pair, heading into Din’s bedroom, as he watched her go for a lingering moment. Before strolling silently into the Sleeper just beside that one.

Less than ten minutes later Din emerged back into the living space, having showered, dressed in just his tunic and pants and helmet now.

He rounded the corner into the sleeper to see Lysa sat facing him from her position on his bed, a smile on her face, her head propped up with a pillow.

And from behind his helmet, Din couldn't help but smile back.

“How was Tatooine?” she asked gently.

Din gave an easy shrug entering the room, beginning to re-unbutton his tunic at the collar. 

Din was so used to covering up in front of others, he had not yet become accustomed to walking the length of the cabin without his tunic yet.

“Fine,” he replied tiredly, not having found his day interesting enough to expand on. “How was the city?”

Din was far more eager to hear how Lysa had found her first trip into town since everything that had happened.

“It was good,” she said brightly, her green eyes watching as his neck was revealed little by little. “Visited the market. Everyone was….sweet.”

At her words Din glanced her way, earning a small, but happy sigh from Lysa’s lips.

“Seems like news travels fast when the High-Magistrate comes to Nar Shaddaa to rescue you,” she explained.

Din pursed his lips. “Karga shouldn't have-”

“It’s fine,” uttered Lysa in a soothing voice, giving a small smile. “I don't think any of them had even met Crix, so I think it was all just a surprise to them that I’d put up with someone like that for so long without doing anything about it.”

She gave a small sniff now, her eyes drifting down to her knees for a moment, before she glanced up at him once more. 

“And I can see now how stupid I was, of course I can,” she said in a voice quieter now than before. “But…y’know…hindsight can be a funny thing. I think I’d accepted that that was my life. And that I had no choice.”

Din stared back at her for a long moment, as the room fell quiet.

Lysa swallowed harshly before she spoke again.

“I…uh…I also went back to my old apartment today,” she said with a nod, a soft smile gracing her lips once more. “Just to pick up a couple of things, and I…I bumped into my landlord.”

Din stared up at her instantly, his fingers slipping against a button at his collar.

“...and I uh…I asked about the lease…it’s under Crix’s name…” she explained, her face flushing slightly as she spoke, her eyes instantly dropping from his and instead becoming fixed to a loose thread on the white sheet before her. “...and um, well, he asked if I wanted to take it over…”

Behind his beskar Din Djarin suddenly felt his throat go instantly dry and his heart seem to skip a beat.

“...and, well, I told him I’d think about it…” she said, her unsure eyes drifting back up to Din’s, obscured behind his helmet. “...I just…”

Lysa swallowed hard again, offering Din a sweet smile, her wide green eyes full of uncertainty now.

“...I wasn't sure if I’d outstayed my welcome with you…here…” she explained, taking in a breath and seeming to hold it in place, waiting for Din’s response.

A frown slipped between Din’s brows, his brown eyes roving across her face, his breathing becoming suddenly shallow.

Din didn't want her to leave. Not now. Not ever. His heart aching at the idea of losing her.

“Stay,” he said suddenly, his voice sounding stark in the quiet of the room. “I want you to stay. We want you to stay.”

Lysa gazed at him, with eyes filled with a hopeful disbelief and she opened her mouth to speak, but Din did not give her the chance. Cutting across her now.

“After what happened in Nar Shaddaa,” said Din in a serious voice through his modulator. “...I don’t think I can bear to be apart from you again.”

His gaze remaining fixed on hers throughout.

“And I know this place might not seem like much of a home,” he continued, his voice earnest. “But to us…it is now that you’re in it. If you want it to, it could be your home too…”

At Din’s words, Lysa’s face seemed to warm in front of his eyes. A blushing smile breaking onto her pretty features.

“Ok,” she said with a beaming nod.

“Ok,” replied Din firmly, finally letting go of his breath for the first time in what felt like an age, a relieved smile flitting its way onto his face. His chest swelling with pride.

Din’s heart now ached for her. For the woman sat before him, looking like a vision in pale starlight.

And he knew now that he didn't want her questioning things between them again. 

He never again wanted to see her uncertain about how much love for her he had.

Never wanted to see her doubt how much she meant to him and how much he wanted to hold her close and never let her go.

As she stared back at him now, Din could see the love pouring from her. Her beautiful face a shining light even in the darkness of the room.

And feeling a lump settle in his throat, and a frown settle itself between Din’s brows, he gazed down at her knowing exactly how he felt about her now. 

How he’d felt about her from that first moment he’s laid eyes on her.

The ever-shining sunlight to his dark and pouring rain.

And without warning, Din, with that frown still there and chest rising and falling hard, unpinned his tunic and shucked it from his shoulders. Before reaching over and pressing a hand to the square button beneath the window.

And just before the room, plunged into darkness, he saw Lysa wet her lips gently with her tongue, a warm expectation set within her gaze.

A moment later the room became black, as Din dropped his knees onto the bed one by one, pulling off his beskar helmet as he did so. Throwing it onto the mattress beside them.

And almost instantly he felt Lysa’s hand on his chest, knowing exactly where he was even in the dark. Her palms sliding over his shoulders, as she pulled him close, her lips meeting with his.

Her kiss was soft and sweet and Din felt his chest constrict with the adoration he felt for her in that moment.

Lysa lay back, tugging him on top of her, her fingers threading themselves through his dark hair. Just as Din’s propped himself up with his arms either side of her, penning her in.

Wanting now to right every wrong that had ever befallen her.

Wanting to soothe every hurt.

Determined tonight, to kiss every part of her body that Crix had bruised her.

And moving his mouth from hers, he began to press gentle open-mouthed kisses to her neck, staring from the space just beneath her ear, and travelling down slowly to her collarbone.

Her heard Lysa let out a satisfied ‘mmmmm’, hearing now that she was smiling.

And how Din loved making her smile.

He dipped his head, dropping his lips next to her chest, inching lower, as his rough hands unbuttoned her pale slip slowly, revealing even more skin to him.

A moment later the fabric between them was gone, Lysa letting it slide from her shoulders, propping herself up onto her elbows for a second to toss it aside.

As her back hit the mattress once more, Din’s hands skimmed down her sides, coming to stop on the small of her waist, as his kisses followed, one falling between her breasts before his lips grazed her ribs. Peppering each side with brief and open-mouthed laps.

He knew that Crix had broken and bruised more than a few of her rib-bones over the years. And despite not being able to take those hard memories away from Lysa. Din wanted to do what he could to let her know that the hurt was now gone.

The noise of his lips gently kissing her skin, caused Lysa to emit several soft little moans that were enough to make Din frown darkly, his breathing becoming shallower within his chest now. Enjoying the sounds he was able to ease from her mouth.

Her stomach was next to receive attention from him, followed by her hips, one-by-one, as he slowly moved to her thighs. Positioning himself between them and using his hands to hitch up both legs and press soft wet kisses to those smooth inner-thighs of hers.

He heard her gasp out expectantly, the noise sending waves of arousal coursing through his body.

But he was not done yet. Nor was he ready to finish in kissing away the ghosts of the bruises Crix had once given her. His entire chest constricting, as his thoughts lingered on all she had gone through, and all she had survived.

With Din Djarin knowing that there was nothing she could ever do, for him to consider ever inflicting those same bruises on her.

And so sliding his body up and over hers once again, and propping himself up with one arm taught against the mattress, his face found hers in the dark.

Din pressed a gentle kiss to one cheekbone now, and then the other, feeling her smile instantly at that. Before his lips grazed her temples, once, twice then three times…

…before finally, moving to the space between her brows…

…to that frown line…

…to that place he had once promised himself, long before Lysa had even been his, that he would one day press his lips to.

And it was in that moment, that everything seemed to change. With Din pulling back, feeling his breathing become shallow and that frown that had graced his own brow, returning. As he stared down at Lysa, without being able to even see her in the darkness.

Knowing now that she completed him.

That his existence now felt utterly fulfilled now that she was in it. As though every moment of his life was leading to him meeting her.

And that was when Din Djarin made a decision. A decision which he knew now that he would not regret for the rest of his days.

And so breathing hard, he lifted his face back just an inch, staring down at Lysa…

…as his free hand moved to the window.

And in an instant, Din had flipped the switch…

… opening the shutters…

…with shining starlight illuminating the small room…

…revealing his face, at last, to the beautiful woman before him.

Din gave a harsh swallow, as he stared down at her. His heart thudding inside his chest, almost trembling with apprehension.

Unable to help the fear and worry that appeared in his brown eyes, as he stared wordlessly down at her.

Before him, he saw Lysa blink a couple of times, her green eyes wide, her lips parting gently.

Dank farrik.

What if she found him grotesque?

What if upon seeing his face after so long, she decided that he was not the man she thought he was?

Aside from Grogu and the Jedi, Din had not shown his face to another living being since he was a child, putting on the helmet for the first time.

To him now, this felt like standing naked in a room full of people, vulnerable, with nowhere to hide.

But before Din could worry further, Lysa had lifted her smooth hand to his face, her fingers lightly tracing over his cheekbones and down his jaw, grazing over his bottom lip. As her eyes followed the same path, taking in his every feature.

Before those marsh-green eyes of hers finally settled on his brown ones…

…for the very first time.

And awash in her eyes was a look that told him all he ever needed to know.

A look that told him just how utterly in love with him she was.

A feeling Din reciprocated now, so strongly in return, that he felt his heart might shatter in two if he were to ever lose her again.

A love so intense, he felt that no force in this galaxy could keep them apart any longer.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” he uttered aloud, before he could do a thing to stop himself. The words presenting themselves to her, as though she was always meant to have had them.

And for a moment, her eyes searched his…

But Din did not give her the chance to worry on their meaning. As he swallowed hard again, his gaze never leaving hers.

“It means- I will know you forever.”

Din stared down at her as a look of shining awe appeared like morning dew over Lysa perfect features.

“It’s what the people of Mandalore would say to those that they-” he paused, just for the very briefest of seconds, wetting his bottom lip gently with his tongue. “-that they love.”

Din watched, as the frown line between Lysa’s eyes deepended for a split second before her face softened completely.

“I love you,” said Din, with a slight shake of his head, his words honest in the quiet of the night. “I think I loved you from that first time you showed up outside in your speeder.”

A gentle smile slipped it’s way over Lysa’s face, her sparkling ocean green eyes still searching his in the starlight.

“I love you too,” she said breathlessly, reaching up and cupping at his cheek with her hand, as she lifted her head from the pillow behind her head, her lips gently meeting with his.

To Din, her lips tasted like golden honey. 

Like pure sunlight.

Her kiss sweet and delicious, and filled with love in its most truest form.

And like that they remained, kissing at one another languidly, hands sliding over skin.

Enjoying every inch of each other as the minutes slowly passed them by. 

Until those kisses of theirs became far more heated, the swirling vortex of their need for one another getting bigger and more powerful until neither of them could bear it any longer.

Thighs sliding over hips…

Hands fumbling between them, as Din’s dark pants were pushed from his waist and kicked to the floor.

They felt like magnets now, unable and unwilling to part, as they sought their pleasure, so wrapped in one another neither would have noticed if a StarCruiser had crashed into the planet right outside.

Their lips parted for a brief moment, huffing hot breaths into each other’s mouths, as Lysa’s hand found his erect length, hard and throbbing between his legs. Eager to seek its goal in that soaked aching slit between her thighs.

And a moment later, with mouths hanging open, both mirroring the other, eyes locked, Din was there, buried inside her.

Their pace started slow, with Lysa’s hand moving to his muscular bicep, now flexed taught beside her shoulder. Fingernails from her other hand raking through his dark hair.

And Din could only breathe out raggedly, as their hips began to move in sync with one another.

Moving faster and ever faster. 

Lips grazing. 

Tongue’s lapping. 

Both intoxicated on each other.

Lysa moaned into Din’s mouth, her eyes closing blissfully, as her back arched against the sheets beneath her.

Din’s hands skimmed up the bare skin of Lysa’s warm outer thigh, huffing a grunt into her parted lips, as he buried himself inside her time and time again. The wet, sinful noises between them, truly something to behold.

A moment later, her hand moved to his neck and she lifted her face to his again. Her green eyes seeking his in the pale light.

And their eye contact remained as Lysa fell apart first, gasping out, clenching around his hard cock, which now sodden with her juices.

The sensation enough to trigger Din’s own climax, a dark frown gracing his sweat beaded brow, as he came hard, groaning out as Lysa watched him from her own comedown.

“Dank farrik…” he murmured, as Lysa gave a hazy nod in response, her thumb grazing over Din’s bottom lip, as she leaned her lips in close to his.

“Yeah…” she responded breathlessly, as Din eased himself from her now, his trembling arm almost giving out on him. Settling himself down onto his back, onto the mattress beside her.

The two of them breathing hard, their chests both rising and falling hard in the pale light of the stars.

A few seconds later, Din felt Lysa turn towards him, shifting onto her side to gaze at his profile, feeling her eyes on him.

And shifting his own body, he came to face her.

The pair were silent for a long moment, with Lysa’s hand drifting up to Din’s face, her thumb drifting over the hollow beneath Din’s eye gently, where he bore the small marks of more than a few fights he had both won and lost over the years.

Din closed his eyes, even after weeks of removing his helmet in the dark and feeling her contact, he still cherished the feeling of her warm fingers touching a place he had not had touched by another since he was a small child.

“Won’t you get in trouble for removing your helmet?” he heard Lysa ask now, amidst the quiet. “Isn't it against the Creed?”

Her words were caring and soft. And as Din opened his eyes, he looked upon her face, full of concern and love for him, and only him.

Din’s hand moved to her middle, his fingers reaching the small of her waist as he caressed her smooth skin.

“You are part of my family now,” he said, leaning in and nudging his nose with hers gently. “My clan.”

He saw her green eyes seek his lips in the darkness, watching every word as they spilled from his lips.

“I have abided by the rules for so long. Sacrificing so much along the way,” he continued in earnest, knowing that every word was true.

Being a Mandalorian, he had missed out on so very much.

Missed out on what others sought so often. 

On that intimacy, with not only lovers but family too.

But now, Din Djarin was no longer on the outside looking in. For the galaxy had provided him with his own family. His own clan.

“These moments with you-” he uttered now, pulling her hips into his and pressing his hand to the dipped small of her back, holding her so very close. “-we are bonded. And I-”

Din gave a hard swallow now, gazing into the eyes of the woman he loved so dearly.

“I just….I don't ever want to let you go,” he said, letting out a huff of air through his nose, as he reached down, his hand grasping hers.

“You are my kar’ta…” he said, pressing her palm flat to his bare chest, as he translated in a low and firm voice. “...my heart.”

He saw Lysa tilt her head, and tears glint in her eyes in the pale starlight. But she did not let any fall now. 

A smile gracing her perfect face as she shifted closer to Din now and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her hand finding his once more, their fingers entwining neatly.

Both listening to the rain as it began to pitter-patter on the roof of the cabin, but neither allowing sleep to take them just yet.

The two of them, Din and Lysa, basking now in the glow of both the rain…

…and the sunlight.

………………………………………………………

If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know.

@its5-15wakeup @thecraftyartist @crazypaine @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @marysucks-blog @siimiasoi @livinxdeadxgrl @midwesternwitchery @the-divine-taurus @handspunyarns @st0rmyt @titlee78 @znerac @134340ona @heyheyheygaypay

#the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din Djarin fanfic #din Djarin oc #mandalorian oc #mando oc #mando grogu #Pedro din #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din x oc #din djarin #Star Wars #star wars au #star wars fic

[sullustangin]

Spoilers Ahoy: Consular Thoughts

I’m doing a quickie consular story  re-playthrough, and ... I have thoughts, mainly about the companions.

I do like the overall story arc until Chapter 3 when everyone except the Selkath thinks going to Belsavis to make friends is a great idea.  Awakening an imprisoned army is a terrible idea.  This is sort of how I feel about my OC confronting Malgus alone in prison recently: I don’t have a choice not to be stupid, and I HATE that.  LS is “Gonna get new friends for the Republic” and DS is more like “Gonna get new friends to serve me.”  THESE GUYS ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS.  It’s a lot of risk and no guarantee of reward. I’d mark this as ‘a jump the shark’ moment. 

The Consular also has the inverse problem of the Bounty Hunter:  BH gets all the lighter companions first (Mako most of all) and then gets DS only at the end (death to Skadge).  Meanwhile, the consular gets a Hunt All The Things Uncle Lizard, Guy Who Literally Lives in the Basement with his Holo Girlfriend, and a politically inclined Murder!Noodle. Consular only gets LS Felix and LS Nadia as the last two companions, which results in some problems -- they’re also the romance options, which gives them the least amount of development in the vanilla game. 

To be fair, I think Felix Iresso is one of the least problematic guys in the SWTOR universe.  He’s so kriffin’ sweet.  He’s perfect for a young Jedi.  I totally think there was an attempt at a Jace/Satele parallel here. It’s not toxic and it’s well-paced... minus the fact that he doesn’t show up until Hoth.  Yes, I know what’s in his head...but he’s still a good person before and after the experience in Vanilla.  (I know how he was done dirty in his return -- poor sweet man.) 

For perspective, Hoth is when the smuggler gets their last companion, Guss Tuno.  Corso (f!smug romance option) was acquired in Chapter 1, and Risha (m!smug romance option 1) was acquired at Chapter 1′s end.  Akaavi was acquired in Chapter 2 after Balmorra (option 2).  Even then, Akaavi’s relationship feels better paced just by having her a whole planet early.  I know @swtorpadawan​ and others have commented on how fast the Nadia Grell romance is.  Pair that with her relative youth -- even with the consular being super young themselves, it still feels ‘yikes’, especially in the context you romance her.

I love and hate Qyzen.  He’s a great first companion, part of a cultural immersion experience for a young Jedi.  His hunting for the Scorekeeper works in contrast to the peace that the consular seeks to establish, and yet it does provide a path to that -- sometimes, you do have to fight for the 'greater good’ end result; compliance works for the enemy.   However, on a personal level, I have my political loyalties to Wookiees, and I would cheer for Bowdaar to kick his ass.

I do like Zenith, and not just because he’s voiced by Troy Baker.   There’s a very gritty, realist element to Zenith. After the hero moves on from a planet, what happens to it?  Great, Balmorra is liberated, but it doesn’t fix everything going on there. Should there be ‘necessary evils’ done in the name of politics and managing power? All of the war, death, and other baggage can screw a person up; I read Zenith as walking PTSD, having lived in a war zone all of his life (he was born 3 years after Jace and Satele reported the fall of Korriban, and Balmorra has been a mess since). Zenith is a great foil to a consular, regardless of alignment.  

...I have a really hard time justifying Tharan’s recruitment so early minus the fact he does fit on Nar Shaddaa better than anyone else.  I know the developers tried to keep all of the Pub and Imp players running on the same sets of planets in each chapter...but if there was ever an exception to be made, it should have been for the consular, because I feel like Tharan is taking up an important space that he really shouldn’t. He’s not actively evil, but he’s not a pleasant or honest person. Super skeevy vibes once Nadia joins the crew too.   I feel like a lot of time is spent on Tharan with not a lot of growth or character development to show for it.  I think I feel that way because there’s this weird ‘affair’ the consular is propositioned with early on -- it felt like filler from the start.  It’s not as well done as the Pierce one-night stand.  Some of his comp convos seem tacked on or “oh no we have to make more content for this guy.” 

Nadia’s acquisition as a companion hinges on certain late stage events, but I feel as if the romance would have felt ‘better’ if her father had let her go to be a padawan as soon as she manifested on Quesh.   Then, she could have grown up a little more before the later events and would have been on more equal footing and more familiar terms with the consular, romance or not. 

In sum, I think the consular’s personal story with the crew has great elements, but I feel like they got put together in the wrong order.  To me, companion order would be:  Qyzen, Felix (set him on Tatooine, the opposite temperature cesspit in the galaxy), Zenith, Nadia (on Quesh), and then... Tharan on Hoth because someone unloaded him there? or Belsavis for crimes related to unethical experiments?  Again, Tharan’s convos seem overstretched; the Vandrayk Generator could have really been done in two or three convos rather than the big thing it was in Chapters 2 and 3. 

#swtor #swtor consular #tharan cedrax #zenith #swtor zenith #nadia grell #felix iresso #qyzen fess

[nar-shaddaa]

why are you named after the fucking worst planet in kotor 2

you played kotor 2 and thought nar shaddaa was worse than korriban???????????????????????

#asks #kotor #kotor 2 #nar shaddaa had pretty lights and my best friend atton

[uldren-sov]

SWTOR ELORA🖊

its her, Swtor Elora, watch her as she goes

Have some lovely throwback art by a lovely person!!!! (aka you)

Some vibes about her, her place in the Empire, and some of the hypocritical notions of being a Sith in the governmental system that benefits Sith!

I think she is one of my fave OCs in part because she is a way in which I can interface with a system that can be deeply insidious and evil, not only in the cartoonishly way that it is display, and the idea of what Good People can do in a Bad System.

So even while she may be able to change some of the most egregious aggression from the Empire; to what end is she truly effective when the very nature of the Empire is to destroy and diminish anything that is not it? But maybe lessening the outright atrocities committed on the front lines could be enough. We'll have to see.

However! I have really enjoyed her story as trying to be "different" given her awful childhood -- scar over her eye was from a knife wielded by her older brother, her exile to Dromund Kaas -- when the hypocrisy is still as blatant as it is intrinsic; she will always be Sith thus always above others. But, I am very satisfied that she has put in the blood, sweat, and tears in educating herself to push back the prejudices. Maybe that's my bias in thinking time, effort, and education, can overcome a lot of one's own ego and prejudices, but at least in her case being thrown into Nar Shaddaa at such formative years had changed her outlook irrevocably. And given her a fun edge and creativity to how she approaches a lot of her life anymore.

But I've enjoyed grappling with the destruction of her home planet a lot. The outrage, the anger, the incomprehension as to how it wasn't given a kind of mourning it deserved, how the Council allowed it all to happen. In an instant, thousands of years of history and culture was destroyed, and once more the Empire's worse enemy was the Empire itself. Her home was destroyed by the Empire yet she's expected to continue on and lead it? It's a wild conflict that keeps her up at night when Cosmia doesn't. And when Dromund Kaas was her prison, her exile, what true home is there in the Empire anymore? :) Is it really one more enemy to manage? A place she lives that she needs to strive to defeat or control?

Speaking of Ziost! Besides her eye, her only real scars are lightning scars over her hands. I imagine she truly pushed the powers of the Force to keep her alive and fighting on Ziost during those last days, to the absolute limit. The scars come from the amount of control it took to not kill people with the rage of her lightning, to the point where she probably has internal cybernetics in them that had to be operated on immediately after the devastation or else she would have lost her hands entirely. Ask her how pruny you get in a Not-Bacta tank.

And for as fun as the whole It's Just Casual, Don't Catch Feelings, trope is for her and Karo (your oc!!!! @damarlegacy ), I think it's so rewarding that they are where they are now because they put in so much time and effort into their relationship, even when they weren't in a relationship. Unapologetically themselves, yet willing to apologize when it came to the friendship and later partnership they had. It's deeply romantic, yes, but also so satisfying that they went into this with clear eyes and purposefully chose each other to love when they realized it was love. Like how powerful is that? lmao

Also parkour and gymnastic shit is fun

so are two sabers

she's a junglegym for her baby girl and pregnancy with a powerful force sensitive baby was WILD and dreads the prejudice lil cosima will face because she will not let mimi's mirialan heritage be hidden

she's considering another baby though

#i realize i dont have a lot of art for her lolol #so i stole a banner i made like 5 yrs ago #dont ask me how i remember this but I do remember bacta is the synthetic version of the real med-gel shit they use in the old empire #but i cannot remember the name of it LOL #anyways #SWTOR OC #OC: Elora

[lotrificationer]

Meet Me at the Cantina

Summary:  After the events on Malachor, Jedi Exile, Caoimhe Orunde, has been tasked with finding Revan by her former mentor. Alone. But what will that mean for the budding connection she's formed with her snarky pilot?

Atton Rand/F!Exile

Rating: M (mild spicy scene)

@aylaaescar 👀💖

Read on Ao3

--

It had been a little over a month since the events on Malachor.  In that time, the crew of the Ebon Hawk had been ferrying themselves around the galaxy, slowly losing members as they were dropped off at their destinations.  All but Mandalore had insisted on accompanying Caoimhe to find her former leader in the outer reaches of space, but she had refused, telling them they each had a task she needed them to perform.  

“Mira please,” Caoimhe pleaded, “I need you to help them form this new Order.”

Mical and Visas stood by, hesitant to leave the Exile’s side, but dedicated to aiding her.

“No, if I’m not allowed to go with you, then I’m going back to Nar Shaddaa,” Mira stated, hand on her hip, strong in her resolve. “I can’t leave those people to live like that when I know better.  When I know I can help them,” she paused, “I need to be the help that I never got.”

Caoimhe examined her and sighed, the hint of a smile pricking the corners of her mouth.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding her head.  “But please keep in contact with Mical and Visas as best you can.”

“Thank you, and I will,” Mira responded, “and save that smug smile of yours for someone else- just because you made me like this, doesn’t mean you get to gloat in it!”

Mira stalked down a passageway to start collecting her things.

 “You are certain this is the path you wish to take?” Visas stepped forward, her calm tone resonating in the main hold.

 “It is,” Caoimhe responded, mirroring her composure.

 Visas smiled and gave a quick nod of her head, “Then Mical and I shall see it through.”

 “And if you should ever have need of us,” Mical drew closer, placing a hand on Caoimhe’s shoulder, “you know where to find us.”

 -

 Final goodbyes still proved to be difficult as the crew members arrived on their appointed planets.  A grand, galaxy-changing adventure can be quite the bonding experience for a ragtag group of misfits.  Telos was the last stop for the Hawk before its departure to the Outer Rim.  After a long goodbye to Bao-Dur in the Restoration Zone, Atton and Caoimhe headed to Citadel Station to refuel and rest before their last journey.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Atton turned to look at her, lazily swirling his cup of juma as they watched the latest swoop race.

 “Talk about what?” Caoimhe countered, keeping her gaze fixed on the speeding bikes.  He stared at her, silently, until she finally relented and turned to look at him.

 “You appointed a task to everyone else on the Hawk. Everyone but me. So here I am,” he gestured to himself, “unappointed and little confused.”

 Casting her gaze downward, Caoimhe sighed and picked at an invisible crumb on the table.  Atton sat patiently, leaning an elbow on the edge of the table.  When she failed to respond, he prompted her.

 “Well, fearless leader, what’ll it be?” his smirk was placed indolently on his mouth, even as an air of strain hinted at the corner.

 “I don’t know,” she whispered to the table.

 “What?” he responded, unsure if he had misheard her.

 “I don’t know,” she responded more firmly, meeting his gaze.  

 “Oh,” he sat up a little straighter.  “Well, hey, I said it before, but I mean it. I’m with you, whatever you need.”

 “I know,” she murmured, a smile ghosting over her lips.

 “Okay,” he nodded, “well, what do say I get us both another drink?  Try not to miss me too much.”

 Caoimhe was pulling away from Atton and he could feel it.  In those few days after Malachor, she had felt so close to him, desperate for his presence, in particular, after the suffering. He didn’t see it then, but she had begun to lay the bricks in an ever-rising wall and now he had to beat his fits against it to get anything out of her.  With the last of their companions finally off, Atton had tried to pull her back to him, to return to where they left off.  But the wall seemed higher and stronger.  Every so often, if he played his cards right, he would see a crack in that wall.  When he would conspiratorially whisper something ridiculous in her ear, creating the most splendid smile on her face; the kind of smile that made creases at the corners of her eyes.  But she seemed to be able to mend the fractures faster than he could create them.

 As he leaned against the bar, waiting for their drinks, he could feel her eyes on him.  He turned, catching her gaze, and gave her a soft smile.  Knowing she’d been caught, she didn’t try to turn away or avert her gaze.  Instead, something in her eyes hardened, but she returned the smile, albeit, smaller than his. The droid slid the drinks in front of him and the moment was broken.

- 

 Here he was, three days later, sitting at the bar in the same cantina, shifting uncomfortably in his seat while trying to take it easy on his drink.  She was 27 minutes late, not that he was constantly checking the chronometer or anything.  Caoimhe had asked him to meet her here for one last drink on Telos before they departed later that day.  He glanced back down at the drink he ordered for her, condensation pooling around the sad cloth that lay underneath it.  He alternated between rapping his fingers across the durasteel counter of the bar and clenching his fist. The droid behind the counter had tried to remove the untouched drink twice, and both times Atton impatiently waved him off. He craned his neck to look at the chrono; it had been 31 minutes now.  He stood, shoving his chair back when— 

She’s here.

He felt her before he saw her.  The door slid open and Caoimhe stepped into the cantina; the hazy florescent lights bathed her skin in unnatural neon colors and painted her soft fiery hair in iridescent shapes. It danced and shimmered in her searching eyes.  He stood there, holding his breath, as she found him in the crowded bar. She was out of breath and her eyes shone in the bleary lights, and he was certain he had never seen a more beautiful person.  It had to be the Force giving her that glowing halo around her hair and he was sure the Force had it out for him.

 His mouth hung open and tweaked into something resembling a smile.  She readily returned it, the full force of her affection hitting him squarely in the chest.  As she joined him at the bar, Atton waved the droid over.

 “Yeah, can we get a fresh one of these over here,” he ordered, not taking his eyes off of Caoimhe.

 “But, sir, I already tried to-” the droid started.

 “I don’t care,” Atton interrupted, turning to look at it, “A fresh one.”

 The droid bustled off to refix the drink.

 They talked, Caoimhe laughed, and Atton coveted every moment.  Her eyes lingered on him longer and she was generous with her casual touches.  Every touch was like a fire burning straight through his clothing and down to his skin.  This sudden shift had Atton off-balance, grasping for anything to keep him steady.  The wall she had been so careful to build was gone and he was basking in this closeness.

- 

They finished their drinks and Atton threw some credits on the bar before they walked back to the Hawk.  Neither of them spoke much on the way.  Atton found himself getting pulled into her orbit, walking closer and closer until they stood outside of the Ebon Hawk.

 Atton stole unsubtle glances in her direction as his restless mouth kept trying to find something to say.  Just as he opened his mouth, T3 greeted them from the top of the ramp and Atton scowled in its direction before watching Caoimhe traipse up the ramp and turn out of sight.  Atton sighed and shuffled his feet to follow her.

- 

An hour into hyperspace and he still hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to say.  Caoimhe had gone to meditate in the port dormitory 30 minutes ago and left him to his own thoughts.  He counted cards, listed off engine sequencers, and tried to count the ticking in the fixed power couplings.  But it always came back to her.  He tried to lean into the basest of his impulses, but the curve of her body turned into the curve of her smile.  The feeling of her hands on his body became the gentle brush of her hand against his as they walked side by side.  He took a deep breath and stood from the pilot’s seat.  

 Striding down the hall, he narrowly missed that tin can of a droid on its way to the communications room.  

 “Watch it, will ya!” he scoffed under his breath as he turned the corner- straight into Caoimhe.

 “Atton!” she startled.

 “Oh, Keevie!” The nickname flew from his lips before he could catch it.

 Her eyebrow quirked as she stared at him in amusement.

 “What was that?” she teased and he knew full well that she had heard him.

 “Oh, uh, I just, I don’t,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t know why I said that, it just kind of uh-”

 “I like it,” she hummed, saving him from his own embarrassment.

 He swiftly hid his surprise behind a self-satisfied smirk.

 “I’ll uh, I’ll have to keep that in mind,” his pitch lowered as he inched closer, “Keevie.”

 She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear.

 “Don’t wear it out, flyboy,” she whispered mischievously and turned on her heel.

 Atton stood slack-jawed as he stared at the now empty space she had just been.  Recovering quickly, he whipped his head around to find her strolling down the port dormitory hallway.  He lingered a moment longer before stumbling back to the cockpit.

- 

 Caoimhe’s traitorous heart thundered in her ears as she paced around the dormitory.

 Space, why did I say that? She condemned. What is he going to think of me? It’s not my fault he was projecting those images so loudly… but it felt different. He felt different.

 She sunk down to the floor, leaning her back against the bed and cradling her head in her hands.

 What if it’s me?  There’s only the two of us now.  No one else around as a distraction.  What if I’m the one imposing my thoughts on him?  Should I have listened to Kreia…

Footsteps rang down the hallway and she lifted her head. His grey eyes studied her, folded on the floor, worry etched on her face.

 “Are you alright?” his voice was low as he edged past the doorway.

 “Why are you here?” she couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into her voice.

 “Hell, okay, sorry,” he scoffed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Guess I won’t care about making sure you’re fine with all those emotions rolling off of you.”

He took a step back into the hallway before Caoimhe found her voice.

 “Wait, I’m sorry,” she reached out a hand as the words rushed out of her.  “It’s not- that’s not what I meant.  I mean, why are you here with me?  On this ship? Barreling out into unknown space looking for a former Sith lord?”

 He hesitated before reentering the room.  He sighed and shuffled closer to her.

 “May I?” he requested, gesturing to the spot next to her on the floor.  

 She nodded her assent, and he gracelessly slumped next to her, sitting shoulder to shoulder.

 “Where is this coming from?” he turned the question back on her.

 “What do you mean?” she evaded, absentmindedly worrying a nick in her nail.

 “Oh, don’t give me that,” he softly knocked into her shoulder.  “I think you got scared.  I think you saw where this might go, and it spooked you.  Either that or there’s something that that old witch said bouncing around in that pretty head of yours.”

 He caught her fleeting gaze before her eyes returned to her hands.

 “I just,” she sighed and started again, turning to face him.  “How do I know that I’m not putting my own thoughts into your head?”

 “Sweetheart, trust me,” he boasted with a smirk, “no one puts anything into my head without me knowing.”

 She smiled softly at him, still unsure even in the face of his own certainty.

 “Look, believe me,” he said, his tone suddenly serious.  “If I had any indication that you were putting things in my head, I wouldn’t be here. Okay?”

 She searched those stormy grey eyes of his and decided to take him at his word.  Her eyes danced over his face, and he could feel her anxiety prickling over his skin.  He let his hand skim up her arm, brushing her fiery hair over her shoulder and she dropped her gaze.  His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he gently cupped her jaw, moving his thumb along her cheekbone.  Leaning into the touch, she breathed and met his gaze. Her eyes dipped to his lips before hastily returning.  He smirked and opened his mouth to say something, but she wasn’t about to let him ruin the moment.

 She captured his lips with her own and he made a humming noise as he gently returned the kiss. Her hands trailed up to cradle his face as his hand slid down firmly to her waist, encouraging her closer.  She sighed and broke the kiss, not daring to move away any further than necessary.  

 He raised an eyebrow as he studied her face.

 “Keevie,” he breathed.

 He unabashedly stared at her lips, admiring how the dim cabin lights caught the peak of her pronounced cupid’s bow.  His own mouth hung slightly parted as his breath became heavy.  Everything else around him was a hazy fog as he focused back on her eyes.  

 His desirous energy swept over her in waves, encouraging her own longings.  She sat there, on the edge of a precipice, gazing over the cusp and aching to dive in. His hand was still on her waist, fiddling with the linen ties of her wrap tunic. She placed her hand over his and he stilled.

 “Do you want to…” her unfinished question hung thick in the air.

 “Yes,” he whispered resolutely.  “Would you like to…”

 Her breath stuttered, the words catching in her throat. She nodded.

 “You’re sure?” he returned, his hand tightening over the ties.

 She guided his hand, pulling at the tie until the bow fell free.  Atton’s eyes vacillated between her face and the slowly opening outer layer and back again. He brushed the olive-green covering off her shoulders and watched as the sleeves slid down her freckled arms.  She pulled the tunic off fully and let it pool around her on the floor.  Her hands undid the closures of his shirt and she felt a sudden gratitude for the lack of his usual jacket and gloves.  Once free of his shirt, he pulled her into him, grasping the back of her thighs and hauling her onto his lap.  With her legs around his hips, she felt a new sense of urgency, and their lips became reacquainted with one another.  Caoimhe moaned into the kiss as his hands wandered up her thighs. Smiling against her mouth, he leaned back, dragging his tongue along his lower lip.

 “Think we should move this little tryst about seven inches to left?” he nodded at the bed.

 “I think I could be persuaded to consider that,” she replied with a conspiratorial smile, leaning into him further.  

 “As much as I would love to hoist you up there from our current position, my knees are not what they used to be,” he chuckled and Caoimhe slid off his lap. He immediately missed her newly familiar warmth.

 “You could always use the Force to help a little in a that department, you know?” she offered genuinely.

 “Believe me, sweetheart, there are not many departments I need help in,” his eyes raked up and down her body and he liked the blush that tinted her pale cheeks.  “Still almost fully clothed and already blushing?” he teased, pulling her to him by her waist.

 “Shut up, Rand,” she said, her voice throaty. She kissed him and he happily obliged.

 Atton threw his hand behind him, blindly groping at the frame of the doorway until he found what he was looking for.  The door glided shut and Caoimhe broke the kiss to throw him a puzzled stare.

 “Expecting company?” she asked, mildly befuddled.

 “Listen, the last thing I want is that stupid tin can barreling in here with our asses out,” he grumbled, his lips at her neck. Her laugh turned throaty.

 “Right,” she drew the single word out, sarcasm dripping off of it.  “I’m sure that would be a scarring experience for him…  Or at least distracting,” she quirked an eyebrow, “I mean, for a droid.”

 He pulled back, a devilish gleam to his eye. “You’re laughing at me.”

 “Oh, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” her eyelashes fluttered in mock innocence.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, his lips meeting hers as their conversation lay quickly forgotten.

 Atton’s hands began to wander, dipping under the hem of her undershirt and caressing the soft skin of her stomach.  His calloused hands moved higher and higher until he pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it to the ground.  His lips found the delicate skin of her neck and she shivered.  Caoimhe pressed him backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he relented.  No sooner had he sat than he felt her legs on either side of him.  Her lips returned to his and his hands pressed against her back, urging her closer.

 The friction of his undershirt against her nearly bare torso irrationally infuriated her.  She clawed at the bottom of it, breaking the kiss to peel it off of his skin.  She ran her hands down his chest, admiring the hard and soft planes of his body and the smattering of hair that dusted across him. Her fingers instinctually found a few scars that painted his body and traced along them.  The hands at her back crawled upward, finding the last closure of her undergarments.  His fingers fumbled briefly before releasing it.

 “You sure you don’t need help in that department?” she teased, her eyes still heavy with want.

 “Clothing was not the department I was talking about, Keevie,” his lips tickled the shell of her ear and she moaned as he kissed the soft spot below her jaw.

 In a blur, the remaining clothing toppled onto the floor, completing their new abstract floor art.  She lay under him as he trailed hot kisses down her mouth, her neck, her shoulder.  He pressed his mouth against her collarbone and continued the descent.  Her breathing became quick, and Caoimhe buried her hands in Atton’s hair.  He moaned in satisfaction.  And to her own satisfaction, he was right about that department.  Not that she would ever tell that smug son of a scoundrel that.  Although she got the distinct feeling that he could already tell.  He brought her close, then stopped, leaving her to squirm in his absence.  His lips moved back up her body and her fingers drug across his shoulders.  He looked into her eyes.

 “You’re sure?” he struggled to get the words out.

 “Please,” she breathed.

 His hands were on either side of her head and she wrapped her legs around him.  He pressed into her, their collective moans mingled together at the connection.  He stilled, breathing heavily and gazing at her face.  Burying her hands back in his hair, she pulled him down for another kiss.  It was messy, but he relished the feeling of her mouth against his. He pulled away and started to move, unable to take his eyes off of the way her mouth fell open.  Her sounds coaxed him on, not that he needed much encouragement.  They moved as one and he could feel her pleasure flowing off of her in waves.  He wasn’t overly fond of force bonds in their entirety, but he quickly came to appreciate this new aspect.  His name was a whisper on her lips that he wanted to stay there forever.

 “Keevie,” he rasped, the rise and fall of their chests moving in harmony.  

 She tumbled off of the precipice, breaths stuttering and limbs trembling, and he immediately followed.  He collapsed beside her, somehow drained and invigorated all at once.  Caoimhe’s hand found his and he intertwined their fingers as they lay beside each other, content to rest in the calm silence that followed.

- 

 Caoimhe shifted to face him, resting her head on his shoulder and her leg across his hips.  His hand snuck down to her thigh, hiking it up to his waist with a gentle grasp. They lay there, breaths shallow and eyes heavy.

 “I tried to leave you, you know,” Caoimhe breathed.  “Back on Telos.”

 Atton’s head tilted to look at her while she kept her gaze fixed on the wall.

 “When I asked you to get me those parts for T3 and then meet me-”

 “Meet you at the cantina,” he exhaled in realization, and she fell silent.  He could feel her heartbeat against his own, soft but steady.

 She took a quick deep breath and sighed, “But I couldn’t do it.  I sat in this ship, engines primed, hands on the controls,” she wet her lips, “and I couldn’t do it.”

 “That’s why you were late,” he said, not in questioning, but understanding.  “You said the turbolift malfunctioned, but you were here.  In the Hawk.”

 “I’m sorry,” she kissed at a spot under his collarbone as her apology skittered across his skin.

 He could feel the swell of emotions in her that she tried so hard to smother down.  

 “Ya know, I think a part of me knew.  When you sent me to get a part that even I knew didn’t need to be changed for another standard month.  When I was sitting at the bar, ordering your drink, saving you a seat, because I didn’t want to believe it.  But you came.  You walked into the cantina and it was like seeing you for the first time all over again. Your smile was different though.” He huffed, “Probably because you hadn’t just been drugged and I wasn’t ogling you in your underwear.”

 He could feel the shift in her cheek against his shoulder and knew she was smiling.

 “I’m just glad you decided I was worth having around for a little while longer,” he kissed the top of her head and rested his chin there.

 A restful silence fell over the cabin as they lay there, her confession and apology swallowed up by his desire to be by her side.  His thumb made lazy circles on her thigh and her own fingers couldn’t seem to stay in one place.  

 “What is it?” he asked, feeling the words hanging on her tongue.

 “It’s just something Kreia told--”

 “Now there’s mood killer,” he huffed with a roll of his eyes.

 Her hand stilled as she tensed.  He felt her withdrawing.

 “Hey,” he placed a hand on her cheek, his tone serious, “I’m sorry.  Please continue.”

 She relented, meeting his gaze through her eyelashes as his hand returned to its ministrations on her leg.

 “At the end- at Malachor,” she clarified, a bitterness creeping into her voice, “as we stood at the center of that shrine- that sanctimonious tomb of war- she told me that I had to follow Revan.  To find her in the outmost reaches of the galaxy.”

 He blinked in acknowledgment, already aware of that nominal command.  She pressed her cheek back against his shoulder.

 “Kreia said,” her voice was swallowed by the hitch in her breathe and she tried again.

“She said that I could not take anyone that I loved.”

 His hand came to a rest, and he felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin as he played the words over again in his mind.

 That she loved.  Loved.  Loved.

 He tossed the word around in his head and decided that he liked how it felt there.  He let it wash over him, seeping into his deepest parts and soaking him to his core.  The briefest hint of a joke fluttered at the edge of his mind (“So that’s why Mical isn’t here, then?”), but he let it pass.  A smile, unbidden but not unwelcome, danced on his lips.  He felt her breath become unsteady and realized he had yet to respond.

 Flexing his hand on her thigh, he shifted back to look at her face. She was reluctant to give up the shelter of his shoulder. He studied her face- her brows gently pinched together, creating that small crease in between- her murky blue eyes searching his own, shifting from left to right and back again- her mouth small and tense, keeping her words from tumbling everywhere in her uneasiness. He came back to her eyes and smiled.

 “I never thought I’d say this,” he began, a wry smile further picking up the corner of his mouth.  “But I finally have that old witch to thank for something. It only took her cryptic Jedi talk for you to figure out you loved me.”

 She rolled her eyes, but smiled, nonetheless.

 “And if I couldn’t make it any more obvious,” he inched back down to her until they were nose to nose.  “I love you too, Caoimhe Orunde.”

Her hand skimmed its way up to his cheek as she guided his lips to meet hers.  Though her body was already pressed against his skin, the feeling of her warm mouth prickled through his body as he melted into her.  His hand glided from her thigh to the back of her calf, pulling her even closer to him.  She gasped and his mouth drifted along the side of her face to that area below her jaw. It was a new favorite spot of his. He groaned against her throat and she sighed.  Then he huffed and her eyes fluttered open, that crease returning to the middle of her brows.  He continued to kiss her, pointedly ignoring her gaze.

 “Everything alright there, flyboy?” she asked, a tinge of unsubtle amusement playing in the lilt of her voice.

 He breathed against her neck and lifted his head.

 “I cannot, for the life of me, feel my arm that you’ve been laying on for the past ten minutes.”

 Her hair flowed freely as she tossed her head back in laughter and he felt a sort of pride at being the source of her joy. His pride shifted when she swiftly slid on top of him, placing her hands on his chest.  His eyes widened as his breath stuttered.

 “Is this better, Rand?” she challenged, her lids heavy with suggestion.

 He wet his lips.

 “Listen, hey, while I would love nothing more than for you to continue on whatever path the Force leads you down,” he smiled sheepishly up at her, “I would really like to have the use of my arm for that.”

 “So I should stop?” she leaned back, adding pressure where it counted.  He sucked in a breath.

 “Postpone,” he hissed, moving his feeling hand to her hip. “Just until further notice.”

 “Well, let’s see if we can’t hurry things along a bit, shall we?” she smiled sweetly.

#knights of the old republic 2 #atton rand #kotor 2 #atton x exile #atton rand/jedi exile #f!exile #my writing

[serenofroses]

swtor Agent mains, I'm curious about your choices.

#swtor #imperial agent #star wars the old republic

[moodymisty]

Hi there 😊 I am so glad to see someone writing (so well, I might add) for Paz Vizsla ! I am quite obsessed with him atm... May I request something for him, like falling uncontrollably in love with a jedi reader? (also with some nsfw... a little inappropriate use of the force... just enough to bring this big guy to his knees 😇😍).

Of course I know it is not easily compatible with canon so it is completely fine if you do not wish to write it, no pressure!

Thanks 💜

An opportunity to write for Paz? Hell yeah. Forgive any issues, I wrote this while sick in bed. (I don’t think it’s COVID and praying it isn’t cause I had over 6 months of long COVID last year and I’m not in the mood)

Maybe it isn't the most canon compliant thing sure, but fuck that lol. Went with kind of a order 66 padawan survivor kind of vibe, but overall it's pretty vague. imagine how you wish all, tis the point of this sort of thing.

Relationships: Paz Vizla/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lewd but not full NSFW, Inappropriate use of The Force, handjob(?)

It’s during a long hyperspace flight that Paz leans back in the creaking pilots chair, and thinks. He’s perhaps been a bit reckless at times; But he has a brain in that helmet of his, and prides himself on the minimal damage it’s taken.

But his trip to Dirahn didn’t leave him empty handed, which was part of the reason why his thoughts were so tumultuous. Maybe more so the main reason, than just part.

Judging by the description on the bounty he’d expected someone like a Zabrak armed to the teeth; Not, you. Someone in a hovel near the woods, clearly trying to hide from something. He remembers the look you’d had, of someone who was scared but couldn’t run and so they were ready to fight, even if they weren’t prepared.

He’s had that look before; He’d recognized it through the glow of your rusted unkempt lightsaber.

He couldn’t pull the trigger then, even if you’re a sworn enemy. Even if you’re the bounty he’s after.

Thats what made it all worse. It also wasn’t a problem. At least to someone with less of a moral compass.

It took more than a bit of coaxing to get you to dim your lightsaber, and even more so to step closer. Then again, he isn’t an expert in talking. Not to many Mandalorians are. But it works, and eventually the bad feeling in your gut dimmed enough to follow him.

You originally say, after a long and uncomfortable silence that he had brusquely explained that you were no longer hidden here, that he should drop you off at the next habitable planet with spots to hide. It makes sense; And at first he's more than eager to get you off of his ship. But the travel takes cycles of boring time that you fill with casual attempts and conversation and fixing your old robe, and by the time you both get to a habitable planet and he’s refueling the ship, he finds himself convincing you away from staying here.

It’s a better idea; Is the excuse he uses for himself. He attempts to ignore the way he keeps looking over at you sitting in a normally unused co-pilot seat, a dark robe comfortably swathing almost your entire body.

He finds himself in less of a rush to throw you off than he’d like to admit.

The Jedi are their sworn enemies, he knows well. Even though you insist you aren't a Jedi, Paz knows that it isn't that simple. But yet here you are, sitting in his co-pilot's seat as the stars stripe past the viewport.

Paz considers this all a lapse in judgement.

A big one.

He has to go back to the covert, and part of feels tumultuous at the idea; He's bringing someone who's supposed to be a sworn enemy this close to where is people lie hidden.

He should've just given you that first ride and dropped you off on Nar Shaddaa like you'd asked. But when he glances over to you again and sees you turn to him and give a small smile playing again with the bracelets on your wrist, he knew he would've have been able to.

Of course the time he falls irrevocably head over boots for someone, it's a Jedi.

Well, not a jedi, as you say. But you know it's just arguing semantics. In this day and age the difference is just a line in the sand.

It doesn’t take a genius to tell by the tone in his voice when you land that you aren’t welcome where he’s going, and you’re not exactly surprised.

“I’ll be back to the ship before dark.”

"Don't take too long," You manage to joke before he leaves. The ship also needs a good bit of work, after a fire fight you’d gotten into a short while back. Some of it might serve to keep you busy while he's gone, or you wander around.

You decide to wander; As the large city is too much of a temptation after so long of seclusion.

And with your newly fixed robe swathing most of your body, the hilt of your lightsaber is hidden safely behind it, you end up passing through crowds of people and around stuffed little stalls. The security of your inherited lightsaber lets you wander around safely, arms close to your body as the cold pierces your clothing.

You have vague memories of large cities like this, but overall, it's largely new.

You'd ran to the farthest planet you could make it to with the credits you had once the order fell, as even after the main slaughter many like you were still being actively hunted. Paz being a lucky break.

It's not like it's something that's exactly easy to keep a secret, the Force.

Neither is your appearance, as you can feel eyes on you as you slowly shift through a sizable crowd. There’s shops selling things everywhere and it’s almost overwhelming, compared to the peace of your woods. You must seem out of place enough that people are starting to get a little curious, particularly any locals.

From the perspective of a Jedi in hiding this would be a perfect place; as the noise from so many beings clouds the Force to such a degree that tracking is difficult.

But not for Paz, it seems.

“What are you doing out here?” It’s less so of a question and more of a statement, as he doesn’t give you much leeway to answer once you turn to look at him.

“The ship is fixed. We should be off.” It's the ladder half of the sentence that catches your ear, as you hadn't exactly heard him use one of those particular words before.

“We?” Part of you had been under the impression this was where you parted ways, even if the time you’d spent together had been surprisingly enjoyable. You wouldn’t mind sticking around, as well as it was safer being constantly on the move. However it seems Paz is content to completely ignore your question, and stares at you through the tinted visor of his helmet. He's glaring, you can feel it.

“Let’s go.”

———————--------------

Time passes slowly and incredibly quickly during hyperspace, as it feels like you're often time ferociously bored, as well as constantly busy with things.

Paz being one of those things.

You weren't sure exactly of what place in time you ended up becoming a permanent edition to the ship, but at some point you had beaten the odds, as well as Paz's hard exterior. At least made a few cracks in it. You’ve found out through it and many other little instances stuck alone up in hyperspace that Paz can be a bit of a flirt, in the right mood.

It’s just after one of those moods now, and you’ve decided to play around a bit with him when he isn't expecting it.

The force is something you’ll always need to hone but the feeling lasts on your palm as you slowly move, your hand cupped a bit as you glance over. You know exactly what you're trying to do, but you can't exactly shake the feeling that it feels a little, wrong. You still do it anyways however, biting your lip to try and avoid smirking when you glance over to take a look at the pilot's seat.

He shifts ever so slightly, so you have a good feeling it is working.

Slowly you keep it up, trying to focus but not make it incredibly obvious you are focusing on something. Afterall you can't see if he's looking at you, unless his helmet is pointed right at you. He's managed to abuse that with a few sneaky glances, you're sure. But he's not facing you now, as the reflection of stars scatter across his helmet while he looks out of the viewport.

He shifts again, and you could swear you heard him clear his throat, but the helmet muffles it almost completely. That piece of armor is the source of a good bit of your grievances, it seems.

One of his hands darts down for a second to tug at the fabric of his flightsuit, so it's more than obvious now he's getting hard. It's even hard to hold back the smirk now. You wonder how long you can get away with this before you either get caught, or he takes his leave for a moment to deal with what he surely thinks is a random thing.

Not much longer is what it seems; As mere moments after you have that thought, his helmet is turning to look right at you.

When he glances over, tempted to leave the pilot's seat for bit to take care of this, it's when he notices something about you that his body goes so rigid that even you realize you've been caught. You still keep going however, even as it's more than obvious his eyes are on your lap.

"Are you-"

He sees the way your hand is ever so slightly moving while your arm rests on your lap, and you glance at him. Your hand matches what he's feeling perfectly.

"Dirty Jedi tricks."

He doesn't have much of a chance to say anything more beyond that, as the feeling intensifies so much so that he actually lets out a somewhat loud groan while leaning forward. That sensation shot all the way up his spine, and it probably would've buckled him had he been standing. Right after he manages to gather himself just enough he suddenly bursts up from his seat, and even with his helmet on you can tell by his rigid body poster that he's more than a little bit furious.

Thats fine with you, as more often that not as you've learned that isn't exactly a bad outcome for you.

“Come here.” He doesn’t give you much choice in the matter, as he grabs your wrist- conveniently the one that was just in a way jerking him off, and drags you in the direction of his cot near the back of the ship. He throws you down onto it, just as you speak up:

“I thought you couldn’t take the helmet off?” Paz sternly gives a response.

“You’re lucky I’m taking my glove off after that trick.” Now well and truly out of your depth the engine still rumbles in the background; as Paz flips you over onto your stomach.

#mywriting #paz vizla x reader #Paz Vizla/Reader #reader insert #reader #x reader

[iliumheightnights]

Name: Padawan Bast Terva Age: 12 (Order 66) 32 (Battle of Yavin) Species: Zeltron Master: Zer Yure

Bio: Bast Terva was taken to the Jedi Temple at a young age, as per tradition for all Jedi. Born on Nar Shaddaa, his parents, poor entertainers for the Hutts, gave him up to give him a better life. Hence he was taken to the Jedi temple on Coruscant.

From there, he began his training as a Jedi Youngling. Classes with different masters, Grand master Yoda included. When he came of age, he was chosen by his master. Jedi Master Zer Yure. He was excited to get to know his master and help those in need.

Then the galaxy turned upside down. The Clone Wars broke out, spilling out from Geonosis to the rest of the galaxy. Planet after planet falling to the Separatists battle droids. Luckily, the Republic had the clones. Master Zer and Bast were given the command of the 722 battalion and sent off to war.

Bast had made a close relationship with the clones, especially with his commander, Cloud. They were great friends and often would lighten the mood when things got dark or the days dragged on. That just made it all worse when Order 66 happened.

Bast and his Master were breaking a siege on the planet Balmorra when the order was given. Cloud and the rest of the clones turned. Bast was able to escape because of his Master. Master Zer gave his life so that Bast could live.

Years later, Bast was older and tried everything he could to keep the Jedi Order alive. Gathering an archive and helping fellow force sensitives. But the Empire was clever and the Inquisitors were never far behind.

Face: Nico Greentham

~~~

MEET MY NEW JEDI OC! I have plans for him and his master! Thanks @lovethedanielhd for the amazing art once again! I can't get over your art and love it so much!

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #star wars oc #star wars ocs #oc #ocs #oc bast terva #bast terva #jedi

[revanknightwoman]

#old republic #the old republic #star wars legends #sw legends #sw eu #star wars eu #star wars #starwars #swtor #swotor #game: kotor #kotor 1 #kotor ii #kotor #kotor 2 #kotor i #knights of the old republic #star wars knights of the old republic #tatooine #korriban #kashyyyk #onderon #malachor #telos #manaan #yavin 4 #darth revan #revan #sw games #planets

[ashleyrowan]

Will you tell us the background of your SW 5e characters and what brings them all together?

YES! Absolutely! I'm so glad you asked, Nonnie. This is going to be very long winded so I'll put the opening crawl, some sketches of the characters, and more information about them below the cut.

So, I'm the DM for the game which takes place during the Cold War in the old Republic Era (I'm a swtor girlie so that's my absolute favorite era). Here is the Opening Crawl I made for my players:

Time to meet our heroes!

Lux Lundu (He/Him) is a Nautolan Consular who was born on Latem. He's freshly 18 and he has the Force but his family wants him to keep it a secret so he doesn't get sent to Korriban. He works as an engineer, installing repulsorlifts and stuff in speeders and ships to help supplement his Dads' income. His Nautolan dad is a chef and his Selkath dad works at an undersea daycare. He has two adopted siblings who he loves very much.

Poppy Tu (He/Him) is an Anzellan Scholar and anarchist from Nar Shaddaa and I love him. Basically, his passion is archeology and the moment he looked into Nar Shaddaa's history he was radicalized (seriously, look it up, its absolutely horrific). Poppy came to Latem about a year ago in order to study the Rakata ruins on the planet. He works at the shipyards in the day and has befriended a young grease monkey named Yume (She/Her) who he is radicalizing haha

The last of the heroes who were present in session one is Rhowee (She/Her), a Jawa Engineer. She's nonverbal, mostly communicating by typing messages on her data pad which her droid TR-XI (trixi) speaks aloud. Her clan managed to get ahold of a space ship and travels the galaxy trading and scrapping. However, Rhowee never really fit in with them and they ended up leaving her behind on Latem, she assumes by accident. Rhowee is so sweet and kind and especially has empathy for droids. She ends up working at the shipyards on occasion, servicing their droids when needed.

The party meets up because they're called to track down a droid that's malfunctioning and destroying ships that were commissioned by the Empire. When they find the pit droid responsible they discover that he's working with the rebels and fake his death, but when they arrive back empty handed, the Imperial Officer insinuates Rhowee was behind the sabotage and tries to arrest her. The party isn't having it and Yume (who is usually assigned to watch Rhowee while she's working on the droids) tries to grab the trooper holding Rhowee.

Then he shoves her to the ground and she cracks her head on the permacrete at which point the party goes apeshit. One of the rebels pulls up in a speeder and says "get in!" and as they're leaving, Poppy kills one of the troopers and the officer.

And that was the first session! We're playing session four tonight and I'm honestly really excited. And I'd love to talk about the game more if people are interested at all. Cause there's a lot i could talk about! Please just send me asks, I will answer theeeem (even if it took me forever to answer this one).

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