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rinixo · 1 year

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aquae vivae

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, PIV sex, Mand’alor Din Djarin, breeding kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of pregnancy, subtle sex pollen, wedding night, oral sex

Your wedding night as the new bride of the Mand'alor.

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: This follows the same general story as 'thrones and people and cities' but can technically be read alone.I tagged 'sex pollen' but it just barely fits that trope. Mainly just added it so folks who aren't into it can skip/you're aware of the inherent dubious consent of it - but there is nothing but 100%, enthusiastic consent from all parties here.

read on ao3

You pause at the edge of the pool, eyeing the dark depths. The sound of dripping water echoes through the caverns, the only sound apart from your thrumming heart.

The murmur of your name snaps your attention to the caped man halfway down the steps into the pool. Din is half-turned towards you, armored head to toe as usual, the end of his long, furred cape floating in the still water. The cape around your shoulders matches his, and you rub the soft fur with your fingers nervously.

Din reaches out a gloved hand. Stepping forward, you lay your own in it and let him lead you down into the water. You’re surprised - despite the dark chill of the cavern, the water is strangely warm. You wonder if it is fed by geothermal springs, deep below the crust of the planet, or if it is something deeper.

There’s magic in the sacred pools, Din had murmured into your hair one late night. He told you about how bathing in the waters had redeemed him, how it was the great catalyst leading to his eventual accession to the role of Mand’alor. Now, as you stand before him, hands grasped in his, you wonder if the tingling on your skin is from the magnitude of what was about to occur or something more. Something without a name.

When Din had explained to you what a Mandalorian wedding was like, you had been quite happy at knowing it was a simple sharing of vows. He had then suggested that the two of you journey into the depths below the city center, to where the caverns with the living waters were located. There, just the two of you, you would bind yourself not only to the man you loved but also become Mandalorian yourself. It was a big moment, and one you had put a lot of careful thought into.

“Are you ready?” Din asks quietly. Squeezing his hands, you smile softly.

“Yes.”

Though you had memorized the vows before venturing into the caves, Din lead you through the words. You were grateful, not wanting to embarrass yourself by stumbling over the pronunciation.

“Mhi solus tome.”

We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when apart.

“Mhi me'dinui an.

We share all.

“Mhi ba'juri verde.”

We will raise warriors.

—

Blinking at the late afternoon light, you followed Din up out of the caves, wet gown sticking around your legs. You were looking forward to changing out of your damp outfit and spending the rest of the evening with your new husband.

People buzzed around you the whole way back to your chambers, several of them wishing the two of you congratulations. You murmured shy thanks, the feeling of being the center of attention during what you felt was such an intimate time causing some of your innate timidness to come forward.

Din had explained to you that part of Mandalorian weddings included feasting and celebrating after the vows were shared. The families and clans of the couples were usually the extent of the guests, but with an apologetic smile, Din warned you that the feast to celebrate your union was likely to be much larger. He was quite beloved as a leader - as the first Mand’alor to resettle the planet since the Purge. The first royal wedding in decades, with the capital more populated than it had been in ages, was shaping up to be quite the affair.

The delegation from Naboo had also gotten involved. The ambassador, who had been so put off by your relationship at first, reveled in the chance to showcase Naboo. All week shipments of millaflowers and lanterns were arriving, along with cases of draping fabrics, mirrors, and jewel-toned crystal. He had even commissioned a gown for you to wear during the feast. Traditionally Naboo clothing was very structured, so you were thankful to see that the gown the ambassador had made for you was in the lake country style - lighter, made of lace and tulle, with a low, open back.

As you stepped into the gown, securing it at your shoulders and around your neck, you paused to look at yourself in the full-length mirror in the closet of your chambers. You had never worn something so lovely. Draped over a chair in the corner was your cape, now dry from its dip in the living waters. It was a symbol of your new status, and you mused at the fact that the gown complemented it quite well.

A knock at the closet door drew you out into the main part of your room. Din - your husband, you thought giddily - was standing there in his armor, sans helmet. You felt yourself flush at the way his eyes widened at your appearance, drinking you in.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, and you smiled at the compliment. You step forward and fuss with his armor - unnecessary, as it was spotless as usual - and looked up into his deep, kind eyes.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you remarked, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth gently. You felt him smile and tilt his head to chase after your mouth, but you pulled away teasingly.

“Later,” you whispered. “We have a feast to attend, remember?”

Din grumbled, and you smiled placatingly. You’d be lying if you didn’t want to forget about the feast and spend the rest of the evening alone with your husband, but you knew if you didn’t show up for just a little while the ambassador would drag you there himself.

“I have something for you first,” Din pulled a small pouch out and turned it over. Something silver fell out into the palm of his gloved hand.

“A pendant?” You watched him hold it up, and saw that it was a delicate chain with a silver charm at the end in the stylized shape of some kind of creature, no bigger than one of your fingernails.

“I asked the armorer to make it,” he murmured. “It’s a Mudhorn, the symbol of my - our - clan.” He reached forward and clasped it around your neck, the weight of the pendant laying heavily on your breast. “It’s pure beskar, made from a piece of my armor.”

You looked down, touching it lightly. “It’s beautiful.”

Din merely smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead on yours, and you responded in a quiet moment of tranquility.

—

The feast was certainly one for the history books. The throne room made you gasp as you entered it, arm-in-arm with Din. The vaulted ceilings were lit with hundreds of beautifully crafted lanterns, mirrors, and crystals reflecting the shimmering flames around the massive space. The millaflowers and fabric draped every surface, the sweet scent of the blooms perfuming everything around you. You gave credit to those who had decorated - all of the decorations perfectly complimented the stark, structured Mandalorian architecture. It truly was a unification of your two cultures.

All around you guests came forward with well-wishes and gifts, which a never-ending retinue of assistants would take a place elsewhere. Grogu, who was also dressed up for the occasion, gurgled happily in his father’s arms at all of the attention. You, however, were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Sensing your discomfort, Din lead you up to the raised dais in the front of the room, where the two of you sat side-by-side in lavish seats set in front of the throne. You reached for a goblet and downed a mouthful of sweet, flowery liquor. Din - who had put his helmet back on before the two of you joined the celebrations - tilted his head slightly in amusement.

“Feeling all right?” He asked, placing his hand on your thigh soothingly. You nodded, placing your drink down on the table and sighing deeply.

“Yes, I just needed some space,” you admitted. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he answered. “Just a little while longer.”

Guests continued to stream up to the two of you, though now that you were seated and there was a decadent table between you and them you felt more at ease.

An elder Mandalorian approached your table with a crystal carafe filled with a deep red liquid. Setting it gently on the table, they intoned in heavy Mando’a.

“Wine,” Din translates, “Made in the ancient tradition from herbs and tinctures symbolizing prosperity and love. It’s a gift from those who remember the old ways and hope that our union brings forth a new age of growth for our people.”

“Thank you,” you express, taking the carafe. The elder bowed, before shuffling away to allow others to come forward.

The number of people coming up to you seemed to go on forever, and you poured yourself a generous glass of the special wine to help distract you and calm your nerves. It seemed to be working, the sweet yet tart liquid filling you with a familiar warmth and ease. You offered some to Din, who accepted a small taste by lifting his helmet enough for you to tip the goblet into his mouth.

After a while, you felt yourself relaxing into the plush furs of your chair, leaning against Din’s side. You played with Grogu’s ears as he tucked into the snacks laid out on the table, smiling fondly at the child and his voracious appetite.

“Does this mean I’m his mother now?” You wondered aloud and felt Din chuckle.

“I suppose,” he mused. “I’m his father, and you’re my wife, so that would make him our child.”

“Hmm,” you wiped a crumb from the side of the baby’s mouth, amused. “I always imagined my first child looking a little more like me.”

Din coughed, tensing slightly next to you. “Well,” he intoned lowly, leaning a little closer so that his words were only audible to you, “Perhaps the next one will.”

He placed his hand on your thigh again, the thin fabric shifting as he rubbed your skin. You felt warm from your head to your toes, with most of the heat pooling between your legs and where Din’s hand was placed. Throat suddenly dry, you lifted your drink and took another sip.

“C-can we go soon?” You lilted, wanting nothing more than to return to your rooms with Din alone.

“Soon,” Din promised, and you tensed your legs slightly to try to alleviate the ache growing between them. It was a familiar kind of ache, one that you had felt before, wine or no wine. However, there was something different about the way your body was reacting to the man next to you, and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to take it before pouncing on him in front of everyone in attendance.

Thankfully it was not very long before Din gestured to a member of his staff and had them assist the two of you in making a smooth exit. He passed Grogu, now pleasantly drowsy, to one of his aides and then guided you back to your shared chambers.

When inside you kicked off your shoes, sighing at the relief of the cool floor under your feet. Din let go of your hand and locked the doors behind you, the sound of it engaging sending a throb of anticipation through your body.

You stepped towards your bed, which you had been sharing with Din for months before this. Something about its wide surface, covered in soft linen and furs, felt different this time. It was now your marriage bed.

The sound of Din removing his helmet, the seal disengaging, made you glance over to him. He placed it down gently and started with the rest of his armor. You stood there as if transfixed, watching as the man beneath the armor was slowly revealed. You always enjoyed being the audience to this ritual, and tonight was no exception. In fact, your body continued to warm, shivers of need going up your spine.

Din turns towards you, dressed down only to his most base inner layers. Realizing you were staring, your hands went to the clasp of your gown before he stops you with a low murmur.

“Allow me,” he husks, and you drop your hands to allow him to undress you himself. His fingers, surprisingly soft despite his rough past, dusted across your skin as the lace and tulle were unwound from your frame. At the same time, he began to back you up until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Pulling a pin from where your neck met your shoulder, your gown unraveled and fell softly around your legs. Din’s hands paused, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you there, bare save for the beskar pendant around your neck.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, and you nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. It rolled over you, through you, like thick, rich honey and smoke. You could practically taste it. With a gentle push, Din laid you back onto the bed, standing over you with a hungry look in his eyes.

“I dreamed about this.” He kneeled on the bed, crawling up your body. “You, in my bed, wearing the symbol of my clan.” His head dipped to place a kiss to the center of your ribcage. “Bound to me.” You shivered again as his mouth trailed up to your collarbone, your neck, and across your jaw. Your hands, shaking with expectant thirst, snaked up his powerful arms to clutch at his shoulders.

You wanted to say so many things, all of the emotions that had built up catching on the tip of your tongue, but when you opened your mouth all that left you was a choked “please.”

Din’s mouth slotted over yours and you moaned deeply into it, body arching up to press against his firmer form. One of his hands came to your thigh, and you hitched it up around his waist, rolling your hips wantonly. Your hands ran under his linen shift, and you whined at the barrier between your skin and his.

With a groan, Din’s mouth released from yours just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. He continued his exploration of your flesh, licking a slow stripe down your arched neck. You hissed as his teeth pulled at your skin, your nails scratching lightly across the skin of his upper back.

“Din,” you crooned, hand going to his head as he dipped down to tease the peak of one of your breasts with that wicked tongue. You cried out as he sucked roughly on your nipple, sensations of velvet and fire going straight to your swollen pussy. His mouth moved between the tips of your breasts, pinching and sucking and nipping at the flesh there until it was as swollen as your pussy felt.

He raised his head, eyes wild. He took in your body, writhing and panting, and thought you reminiscent of molten steel. You sought his gaze, pupils blown dark and wide with desire.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Din croaked, dipping his head down to nose the soft skin of your stomach. “Perfect creature…” he kissed his way down your lower abdomen. “I want to fill you up, sweet girl - do you want it too?”

You let out a wail as he licked a firm stripe up your leaking cunt. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders so that you were bent - your upper back laying against the bed, your hips angled up towards his mouth. You were wetter than you thought possible, your pussy swollen and flushed. Din sucked firmly on your clit, moaning at the way you keened and shook in his grasp.

Your hands thrashed, clutching desperately at the furs around you. Your thighs tensed, squeezing tightly against the sides of Din’s head as he brought you closer to the crest of your pleasure.

The feeling of his mouth leaving you made you groan in frustration as he dropped your lower body back to the bed. You opened your eyes, brow furrowed as you propped yourself up to stare at your smug husband.

He climbed over you again, shedding his pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the hard cock between his legs, flushed and bobbing, leaking clear droplets of pre-spend. You laid back, legs spreading so that he could settle between them firmly.

“Eager girl,” Din teased. “You that desperate to have me inside of you?”

“Din,” you groused, “If you don’t fuck me soon I think I’m going to die.”

He laughed, husked low in his chest as he pressed himself firmly to your swollen entrance. You laid your head back onto the bed, sighing in relief as he began to stretch your walls. It felt like he was splitting you right down the middle in the best way, and you arched your back to let him sink in further.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re a jewel,” he breathed roughly, hips snapping forward until you wailed. “Taking my cock so well.”

You shifted your hips under him, angling yourself to take him as far in as your body would allow. He chuckled at your frustrated expression, arms braced on either side of your head. He bent forward to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

“My little wife,” he breathed over your lips. “Wants my cock so badly.”

“’S'good,” you slurred. “Big. Fuck me, please.” He answered you with a rock of his hips, hitting that spot inside of you that made you keen again.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he crooned against your mouth, hips slapping mercilessly against your pelvis. “Come on.”

“C-come in me,” you begged. Flashes of images - a little curly-haired baby at your breast, curled up against Din’s chest as he whispered to it lovingly, lowly - made your pussy clench around him. Your body ached for it in a way you had never experienced. You wanted him to get you pregnant, wanted to carry his child inside of you.

“Fucking - anything you want, sweet girl,” Din gasped. “Want me to fill you up “ he rides you hard, desperate for the way you cry with every punch at your guts. “You’re so good, baby, fuck-“

He continues to ramble, lost in how you’re tensing around him. “You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful, full of my child. You don’t know how badly I want it, so badly - I can practically see it -“

Emotion wells up in your chest, binding with the pleasure thrumming through you. You’re nearly there - fire rising from your toes and flooding down from your chest. Din dips his head to kiss your neck, and you start to tip over the edge. Your orgasm starts deep inside of your cunt, from where his swollen head is grinding up into your walls, and sparks down to where his pelvis rubs against your clit. Your vision goes white and you hear Din cry out as your desperate pussy wrenches from him his own release.

“T-take it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours, the head of his cock tight against the seal of your womb. You whine at the pressure of it, the feeling almost too good to bear. You shift your hips, pulling away before his head snaps up from your neck.

“No no no- take it,“ he groans, hand tight on your hip. You writhe under him, tears of pleasure pricking the corner of your eyes. His gaze on you burns, and you struggle to see him clearly through the fog of your ecstasy.

His pace remains steady, desperation clear in the way he rams his cock up into your cunt. “Your duty,” he gasps, leaning forward so that his chest nearly crushes you. “Do your duty and take my seed, bear my children.”

He holds you there as he pulses out the last of his release, breath leaving him in short pants through his nose. His teeth are gritted, brow furrowed, gaze locked to your eyes so that you can’t look away.

“D-Din,” you shudder, and his eyes soften. His grip on your hips loosens minutely, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You did so well,” he praises you. “You’re so fucking good.”

You blink wetly, mind still focused on his cock and how it’s anchored inside of you, pinning you to the bed, plugging you securely. Din tilts his head at your determined expression, and when you roll your hips experimentally he sucks in air sharply.

“Feels good,” you mumble, drunk on the pleasure and the feeling of him still hard inside of you. Stars, how was he still so fucking hard? And why was your body telling you to make him come inside of you again?

Think about that later, you decide, hooking your legs around his waist and pushing him further up into you. He chokes again, head drooping to look at where the clutch of you holds him tightly inside.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re never going to know sleep without the feel of me leaking out of you.” He rolls his hips back before slamming back into you, your mouth opening in a satisfied groan. “Not until you’re fucked full of my child, sweet girl.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding feverishly. It’s all you can manage to say, everything in you focused on where his body enters yours, in and out, inandout-

The two of you spend the entire night and most of the early morning like that, tangled together, until your bodies are near to collapse from exhaustion. It’s Din who taps out first, placating your desire with soft kisses to your temple and strokes to your still-swollen cunt. It isn’t long before your eyes start to droop, sleep just on the edge of your consciousness as he teases you to one last, lazy orgasm. You all but pass out, head resting on his chest to the feeling of him stroking your hair lovingly.

You wake hours later, alone in bed. Your body aches sweetly, and as you start you rise you roll your neck and groan.

“Good morning,” a raspy voice greets you, and you turn to look at where Din leans up against a dresser. He sips from a steaming mug, brow raising in humor at your bedraggled appearance.

“G’morning,” you croak, throat dry. Din sets his mug down, trading it for a glass. He comes over to the bed, sitting next to you, and hands it to you. You take it, gulping down the cool water gratefully.

“What time is it?” You asked, licking your lips. When he tells you - mid-afternoon - you scoff. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Din’s brow raises again, and he leans back against the headboard. “Thought you needed the rest,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Since you kept me up all night.”

You pouted, indignant and embarrassed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you mumble, and he laughs.

“Quite the opposite,” he husks. “And as much as I’d like to take responsibility for your behavior, I had a feeling it was due to something else.” You tilted your head in confusion, sipping more of the water.

“The wine,” he explained, and you thought back to the previous night - somewhat difficult a task - and remembered the crystal carafe.

“Turns out they mean “new age of growth” more literally than I understood,” Din continues. “That wine is made from herbs that act as an aphrodisiac and increase fertility. You drank a lot more of it than I did, so it hit you harder than it did me.”

You choke on your water, some of it dribbling down your chin. Wiping it away, you set your glass to your side and cover your eyes, groaning. Din pulls you closer and you bury your face in his chest, burning with embarrassment at the situation - and the implication.

“Silly girl,” he croons, hand creeping down your side. You look up at him, another shy pout on your lips, and he tips your chin up to kiss you slowly, deeply. You sigh into it, shifting your leg to straddle his lap and feel him smile against your mouth. You shift down to where his cock sits, firm and proud, and grind your bareness against him until he groans.

“More? So soon?” He whispers darkly, and you nip at him cheekily. Pulling back, you look your husband in the eye, a mischievous glimmer in your gaze.

“Might as well make sure it works, right?” You tease lowly, and shriek in loving laughter as he throws you down and begins to devour you again.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #mando x reader #din x reader

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iron-strangers · 20 days

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Aliit

Summary: Din is raising a strong Mandalorian clan, so naturally, he's encouraging his aliit to have a Nerf war at six in the morning.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Kid Fic, Good Parent Din Djarin, Domestic Fluff, Mand’alor Din Djarin

CW: Breastfeeding, No use of Y/N

Length: 1.3k

A/N: I'm trying to cross-post my fic from AO3 to tumblr. This fic is a part of an ongoing series, posted on AO3.

Read this on AO3 : Aliit

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

There's a flurry of little feet running across the wooden floor, pulling you out from your meditation, followed by a thrill of little laughter. The force feels oh so light, the force feels giddy. You crack one eye open, smiling when you see a tiny head behind a wall, immediately sneaking back when he is spotted.

“Buir, we've been covered!” Aranar gasps loudly, then he claps his hand on his lips when his buir shushes him.

“Go, go, attack!” Din rushes him, pushing his son from behind. The boy runs, shooting you and Grogu with a toy blaster, a model Galar 15 Carbine. Yellow plasti bullets flew across the room, hitting Grogu's little arm, distracting the child from his meditation with a shriek. Din smirks, loading his rotary blaster model and shoots a round of toy bullets, hitting you on your arm. Your riduur is unhelmeted and you can see the boyish grin on his face, looking younger as all the stress from ruling a system melts when he's surrounded by his clan.

“Ouch- hey, watch it, no hitting the kid!” You hiss, pick the child up, moving him to your lap. Grogu thrills happily, holding the rain of toy bullets in the air and sending them back to his buir. “Good job, ad'ika!” You beam, kissing his green forehead.

Aranar laughs, ducking behind Din's leg for cover, loading the yellow bullets back to his blaster. He aims from behind his buir and the wind from the bolt blows your hair.

“Excellent aim, Ar'ika!” Din praises, offering the boy a high five. Aranar happily claps his buir's hand and Din loads his blaster, charging it with a few leftover toy bullets before shooting at you with precision, setting an example to his son. “Try deflecting this, cyar’ika!”

You yelp, huddling with Grogu, putting a little toy whistling bird around his fist and shielding him until the plasti bullet rain stops, then you stand up, carrying Grogu on your hip while pulling another plasti blaster that you know they stashed under the couch with the force. The model Westar blaster flies to your hand and you shoot your riduur right on his unarmored tummy twice and to his bicep and chest. Grogu sends his toy ammo towards his vod'ika, hitting Aranar's little calf and thighs, sending another flurry of bullets flying across the room.

“Ow, fall back, Ar'ika, fall back!” Din grabs his son by his middle, carrying him back into hiding. “I will get you back, momma!” Aranar shrieks with laughter, going limp on his buir's arm. Din carries him all the way to the kids’ bedroom, hiding with the boy behind his blanket fort, both are stalking you while loading their blasters back with toy bullets.

“Where's ner Ar'ika?” You pretend to search him, ignoring the wriggly lump underneath the blanket, trying your hardest to not laugh whenever you hear a rustle from behind the blanket. “Oh no, Grogu, your vod'ika is missing! If he's not here then we can eat all the barnaban mist-pudding and add broccoli to our bantha steak tonight-”

“Ew, momma no!! No broccoli, never ever!” Aranar cries from the pillow fort, giving away his location.

“Ar'ika, attack!” Din yells, followed by his son's giggles. Two heads pop out from behind the mountain of pillows, both sporting the same brown, unruly curls, two sets of brilliant brown eyes, and dimpled smiles. The resemblance (and the plasti bolts) knock the wind out of you. You pretend to fall onto the carpeted floor, clutching your chest and groaning.

“Momma yield?” Aranar giggles, running to sit on your tummy and you let out a soft oof, catching him with one hand by his small hips to stabilise him.

“I yield, Ven'alor,” you throw your blaster away, holding both your hands up.

“Buir, I win!” Aranar cheers, giving his buir a toothy smile. You smirk to your riduur before flipping the boy to the plush floor and starting tickling him.

“But can The Ven'alor win against the tickle monster?”

Aranar yells with laughter, clutching his tummy and smiling so widely. Din lifts a cackling Grogu to his chest, rubbing on his ear, making the child purr as his other son tries his best to wriggle free from the tickles. “Buiiiir, help me!”

“Now, Ar'ika, what's the word we use whenever we ask for something?” Din teases, making no move to help the boy from your tickles.

“Please!”

Din is about to scoop his firstborn up when he hears a piercing cry from the nursery. You stop tickling Aranar and look at your riduur sheepishly. “We woke Mirshka up,” you laugh, lifting Aranar to his feet and brushing the curls away from his eyes, kissing his chubby cheeks. You look at him with pure adoration, watching him call his little mudhorn doll with the force and go back to hugging your neck, leaning to your chest, mumbling about giving his toy to his baby sister.

“You two wanna say hi to your vod'ika?” Din asks, answered by both of his sons with a nod, taking his buir's hand and leaving for the nursery along with Grogu. You shake your head, basking in the warmth that is your little family's voice. You lift all the stray plasti bullets with the force and deposit them in their box before getting up to go join your aliit.

“Momma, Mir'ika hungry?” Aranar asks, your three-year-old son is so in tune with the force already. He can feel Grogu’s and his two-month-old baby sister’s emotions in the force and he can recognize his buir's presence even with his armor. “I gave her my mudhorn, she won't stop crying.”

You mouth a little aww to your riduur, who's currently cradling his wailing baby girl on his strong arm, his other hand holding Aranar's doll to her crying face, almost as big as her swaddle. You caress her cheek and press a soft kiss before sitting on the little feeding chair in the corner of the nursery, covering yourself with a baby blanket. Din hands Mirshka to you, helping you maneuver her into a comfortable position. You push your robes aside to let Mirshka latch to your nipple. As soon as she finds you, she begins suckling happily and her little curious hand holds onto your forefinger tight. Her big brown eyes blink owlishly, smiling up towards you.

Din helps both Aranar and Grogu to climb into the chair, squishing themself on each of your sides, cuddling close to you as you feed the baby. They lean against you and sigh, giving away both their comfort and exhaustion, letting your force presence lull them to sleep. Beaming to your riduur, you offer him your free hand, holding his hand with your free hand.

“Vor’e, cyar'ika,” Din mumbles, caressing your hand with his thumb. You hum, tilting your head to your riduur curiously. “Whatever for, my love? Shooting practice at six-thirty in the morning?”

Din still gets whiplash from the weight of your love, but as always, he holds onto you tighter and leans forward, pressing a loving, lingering kiss to your lips before bumping his head against yours in a keldabe. “For giving me this,” he gestures, an aliit, he means. The one he never thought he could have. “I'll start breakfast and I'll call you in thirty minutes?”

“You're so dreamy,” you sigh, nodding and leaning to rest your head on Aranar's curls, pressing kisses to the top of his head. Din laughs, giving you one of his rare full-body laughs where he throws his head back, his facial feature relaxes, and the corner of his eyes crinkle. You sigh again, smiling adoringly at him as he backs away, cracking the door a little bit so he can still watch his aliit from the kitchen.

His responsibility will come knocking in the form of an irate Bo-Katan Kryze in give or take two hours, demanding him to please, come and lead the court, but now he has his aliit close, happily snuggling against his riduur and Din is content.

Mando'a translation

aliit: clan

ad'ika: little one

buir: parents (gender neutral)

cyar'ika: beloved

ori'vod: older sibling

riduur: spouse

ven'alor: crown prince/princess

vor'e: thanks

vod'ika: younger sibling

kids' names meaning:

Aranar: to defend

Mirshka: Originated from the mando'a word 'Mirshko' means Courage

#expanding clan mudhorn #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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direwolfrules · 1 year

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Scenarios I would want in a Star Wars What If? Series:

Ahsoka as Obi-Wan’s padawan.

Anakin found by the Jedi as an infant.

Anakin found by the Sith as an infant.

Obi-Wan kills Anakin on Mustafar

Bail takes Luke and Leia goes to the Larses

Ahsoka rejoins the Order after the events of “The Wrong Jedi”

Dooku takes Yaddle’s hand

Sidious fails to kill his master in his sleep.

Non-pacifist Mand’alor Satine (I just want to see Satine in armor okay?)

Jar Jar Binks, Rebel Agent

Rex is the one who executed Krell instead of Dogma.

Anakin listens to Mace and sits tight while the Council fights Sidious.

Plo Koon somehow gets the Darksaber.

Force Sensitive Sabine Wren

Force Sensitive Jyn Erso

A single member of Rogue One survives

Leia’s ship isn’t caught by Vader

Owen lets Obi-Wan train Luke

Owen and Beru die when Luke is young

Ezra runs into Luke on Tatooine when looking for Obi-Wan

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fanfic-obsessed · 6 days

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We Want That one

This is a Satine/Cody/Obi Wan of a flavor that I have not seen before and hope to see more of. It takes a bit there but I think it will be worth the wait.

At the end of the mission to Mandalore, Obi Wan decides to stay with Satine and leave the Jedi Order. Now it is important to note this is done with Qui Gon’s full and loving support. In this one Qui Gon is not a raging asshole with many issues and trauma (Melida/Daan happened and after it did both Qui Gon and Obi Wan were required to go to therapy-both separately and together- before they were allowed to go on mission together again). Also it is important to note that in this one ‘Will of the Force’ is not an excuse Qui gon uses to do whatever the hell he wants. The Force does actually have OPINIONS that it will share with specific Jedi (There is no tie to power, abilities, position, or previous messages for who will get a specific message. There is a tie, though not complete because the Force has other measures that mortals cannot comprehend, between who is making the decision the Force has an opinion on and which Jedi gets the message). The Force did let both Obi Wans and Qui Gon know that it fully supported Obi Wan leaving the Jedi to be with Satine.

So Obi Wan returns to the temple to formally leave the Order, get comm codes for people he wants to stay in touch with, and his remaining things from his room. He is allowed to keep his lightsaber and encouraged to keep his login to the Temple Archives so he could keep learning. Six months after he returns to Mandalore, he and Satine marry with his Jedi friends and family in attendance. A year after that their son Korkie is born. He and Satine take up the mantle of Duke and Duchess and balance each other well. Though Satine remains a pacifist, she does not begrudge her husband not being one and the addition of Obi Wan lessens the power of some of her more odious advisers. At some point within the first few years Death Watch attacks and through a series of strange and unfortunate (for Death Watch) both Satine and Obi Wan simultaneously defeat Pre Vizsla and win the Darksaber. They both take on the title of Mandalore jointly and unite the clans. The stabilization of Mandalore goes largely unnoticed by the republic (Including Sidiuous and Plagieus, they both just kind of assumed that everything was going as planned)

Now we come to the Naboo mission, a few years down the line. There is little change to the start, save for the places where we are missing Obi Wan. Qui Gon still ends up, with Padme, on Tatooine and helps free Anakin. The High Council is still leery of Anakin and accepting him. Qui Gon is still adamant that this child must be trained. Padme is still tricked into calling for a vote of no confidence. There does come a change when Qui Gon meets up with Padme again as they conspire to return to Naboo. Qui Gon gets an idea and puts in a call to someone he is sure Padme should talk to immediately. When the call connects, greet the pair on the other end as Duke and Duchess Mand’alor. The man, Obi Wan, sighs deeply and turns to Padme, and in the driest tone she had ever heard goes, ‘I apologize for Qui Gon. He thinks he’s funny and no one has ever been able to disabuse him of that notion. We can be either called Mand’alor, or duke/duchess, you do not need to call us both’.

Qui Gon explains what is going on with Naboo and Satine immediately goes to Padme, ‘Oh, you poor thing, we will get you some humanitarian aid immediately, right dear?’ to which Obi Wan agrees.

Something about the way Qui Gon is now looking amused and mischievous and the way that Satine had said that left Padme, for all that she was a bit on the naive side when it came to galaxy politics (As evidenced by the fact that she did not realize slavery did exist until she faced it directly and that she did really believe that doing what was right drove the Galactic senate), with the belief that there was something more going.

They leave Coruscant and are met, just before reaching Naboo’s system, by a ship full of Mandalorians led by Obi Wan. He apologizes that Satine could not be there as well, but they tried not to be off planet at the same time, just in case, and Obi Wan was better for this.

Also as soon as Obi Wan saw Anakin, he felt the immediate and nearly irresistible urge to adopt him (Both the Manda AND the Force had opinions here), only the knowledge that he did not know whose child it was and the fact that Satine would kill him for adopting without her stopped him. Obi Wan did take a moment to ask Qui Gon why there was a small child going into a warzone.

Eventually they got down to business. Obi Wan explained that, since Mandalore was not part of the Republic, they could not send an army to help with the Trade Federation’s illegal block (particularly since, officially, no one knew about it). However, if their old friend Qui Gon (Qui Gon good naturedly protested the ‘Old’. In the same dry tone as earlier, Obi Wan said that they all knew that Qui Gon had been there at the start of the Republic (i.e 25,000 years old), there was no need to lie. Then Obi Wan winked at Anakin, making the boy giggle) happened to mention that Naboo was experiencing a crisis and Mandalore chose to send humanitarian aid, well that was not declaring war on a Republic entity. Of course they would also have to send a security force with their aid workers (Never mind that each aid worker is also a commando) there might be pirates or other dangers along the way.

Blockaded though Naboo may be, the blockade was not meant to hold up to a platoon of Mandalorians (sorry a group of Mandalorian aid workers with their security escort). They get to the surface, though liberation would take more firepower than they had immediate access to (particularly since they people were dying, thus a time crunch) so Padme negotiates with the Gungans to take back their planet. By the way, as soon as the Mandalorians and the Gungan warrior meet they get along like a house on fire (to the concern of more than a few politicians later). Our core group heads to the Theed palace to end things, while the Mandalorians and the Gungan begin the liberation of the camps (Made easier by the fact that the Naboo had not just been waiting to be rescued, many had been working from within the camps to make things as difficult for their occupiers as possible. At least two of the camps, upon hearing that liberation was incoming, promptly rushed their guards and were in the process of tearing the droids apart when the Gungan/Mando liberation team arrived. It may or may not have done more for Gungan/Naboo relations than anything Padme did).

Obi Wan does go with Qui Gon to battle the Sith. He goes armored, made specifically so that he can fight like a Jedi in it. He also goes armed with the Darksaber and a slugthrower (Obi Wan did indeed bring a gun to a lightsaber fight). While there is a little fighting, long before they reach the power reactor, Obi Wan drops back far enough that he is able to shoot Maul in the knee and they capture the Sith. Anakin does end up taking out the shield generator (though the ship he ‘accidentally’ acquired was from the Mandalorian ship- where he had been told to stay for the battle; most of the mandos were a little alarmed at the 9 year old in the space battle but making heart eyes at the fact that the was able to hotwire one of their ships to do it).

After the battle Obi Wan calls his wife and introduces her to Anakin, Satine promptly asks ‘when are you bringing our new son home so we can say the adoption vow?’.

The High council arrive, more willing to admit Anakin (though still reluctant) to find that it is a moot point because Anakin, with Qui Gon blessing (as the Force only said that Anakin needed to be Jedi trained, Obi Wan can do that) was going to be adopted by Obi wan and Satine. Everyone is in agreement that this is actually the best solution (I want it clear that this is not a slight against the Jedi Order, their rules and restrictions are there for a reason and they would have taken Anakin in, but they could all sense that he was ambivalent about it). Everyone parts ways, with a light reminder to Obi Wan Jocasta Nu is waiting semi impatiently to read his most recent paper comparing Jedi historical Force traditions and Mandalorian historical Manda sects (The Manda and the Force both are and are not the same thing).

As soon as Anakin is adopted, Mandalore has an excuse to go after the Hutts (Frankly some of the more aggressive Mandos were getting restless). Due to the way Mandalorian adoption works, adopting a child effectively adds all of childs relatives (that the kid wants to claim) as the adopters relative as well (essentially adopting Anakin makes Shmi family). Family trees get very complicated on Mandalore very quickly (also all new ways to define relationships).

There are some changes we should acknowledge before going any further. Obviously Anakin growing up as the oldest son of the leaders of Mandalore has some difference (Korkie-Then aged 5- was ecstatic, he had specifically been asking for an older brother for two years), for all that Obi Wan is also training him in the ways of the force and the Manda. Also Shimi is living with them now.

There are some political ramifications that come from what could, in the loosest sense, be the Mandalorian invasion of Naboo (as some politicians privately call it) and the fact that the Gungan cities become a prime vacation spot for Mandalorian warriors. It never really goes anywhere, since doing so would mean acknowledging that the Trade Federation also invaded Naboo.

Padme wanted Naboo to cut ties with the Republic, she was fairly disgusted with the interaction with the senate which was highlighted by how differently the interaction with Mandalor went. This was never going to be allowed to happen (Palpatine’s status as Chancellor depends on Naboo being part of the Republic). This combined with Palpatine's (and other politicians) reactions to the Mandalorians that saved her planet, the continuing mistreatment of the Gungans by some (but much less) Naboo humans, and an unfortunate accident that left Padme as one of the sole survivors of her family mean that Padme does not become a senator. Instead when her term is up she, many of her handmaidens, and the other survivors of her family all move to Mandalore where they maintain a close relationship with the ruling family.

Padme and Anakin start dating when Anakin is 20. Their relationship is very much different than it was in Canon. For one, they had been friends for years before getting together. They were also not each other’s firsts (both having had romantic/sexual relationships with others prior to getting together). They are also not trying to squeeze too much into too little time as they try to hide from their friends and family, or justify to themselves their quick marriage. Frankly the lack of a war or a secret massacre putting strain on their relationship also helped.

Satine, Obi Wan, and Shmi never put any restrictions on how long they should be together before getting married, nor could they but it is important that they did not even try. They did highly recommend that, before any action that could be legally binding or have long lasting consequences (like kids) that the pair take at least one trip to the outer rim in a two person ship (the equivalent of taking a road trip together).

Anakin and Padme get married when Anakin is 22.

The Clone Wars break out a year later, in much the same way as Canon though obviously with different people in place of Obi Wan, Anakin, and Padme (Everything about the Clone Wars and the Clones is pushed back by four years. The setback is mostly because Maul was captured instead of bisected. Palpatine needed to be more careful for the first few years to make sure his cover was not blown). Though Count Dooku is the leader of the Separatists, he is never revealed to be a Sith.

Mandalore remains largely neutral, though they register an official complaint (that absolutely everyone involved knew would go nowhere) that Jango Fett’s, a Mandalorian, progeny were being effectively enslaved in the GAR. The Republic is able to produce paperwork signed by the late Jango Fett where Fett relinquishes any claim to any clones created using his DNA with the exception of a single unaltered clone (Boba), thus denying the clones automatic Mandalorian citizenship. Privately Obi Wan contacts the Jedi and tells them that any GAR Clone that wishes to not be fighting for the republic will be welcome on Mandalore, where they can get assistance setting up and where being armored (and thus hiding the most recognizable face in the galaxy) would be perfectly acceptable. The Jedi do find a way to start funneling clones that want to desert toward Mandalore. Oddly enough it actually decreases the amount of clones that want to leave, there was something about just having the option that made the clones feel like they could stay to protect people, instead of being effectively enslaved to the Republic (and it is indisputably true that innocents are being harmed by the CIS).

Mandalore does send ‘humanitarian aid’ and their security escorts to any planet that wishes for help. Ryloth annexes itself to Mandalore after the fifth time the Mandalorains were instrumental in repelling yet another CIS invasion before the GAR could arrive (The Twilek of Ryloth do not begrudge the actual soldiers of the GAR. They do understand that it is a big galaxy, they can only protect so many places at once, and the various battalions do not actually get to choose where they are being sent. However they do blame the Politicians of the Republic for the war going on).

Somewhere in the first year of the war a group of Mandalorians find Boba Fett. This group, who had long been close to Obi Wan (and had in fact been part of the group going to Naboo), clock the 10 year old with Jango Fett’s face putting himself in dangerous situations and forcibly bring him to Mandalore, where Korkie goes ‘Free little brother. For Me! Don’t mind if I do!’ and adopts Boba into the family (for the rest of his life Boba will maintain that there is some form of Captive Syndrome happening, but eventually Boba accepts it).

During the second year of the War several representatives from the Republic are sent to Mandalore, in theory to encourage Mandalore to join with the Republic for the war but several are also secretly on Palpatine’s payroll and looking to destabilize Mandalore or at least their ability to send people to protect other planets (which is making it difficult to extend the war). They are escorted by Qui Gon Jinn’s battalion (an amalgamation of the 212th and the 501st), accompanied by Qui Gon’s new Padawan Ahsoka.

The representatives were given the biggest run around that was politically feasible (Which is a lot, every member of the ruling family, their closest advisers, and the escorts are all little shits who knows how to pull off ‘we’ll piss you off and you can’t do anything about it’) led by Boba, who still does not like Jedi very much; even he understands what happened was a battle and not an attack so does not want to be around Qui Gon. Qui Gon and his troopers are greeted like family.

Satine and Obi Wan, as soon as they catch sight of Commander Cody, go ‘Ooooh Pretty’ (Satine had developed a limited Force Sensitivity after carrying Korkie, enough that she could perceive Force presences and both thought Cody’s force presence was the most beautiful they had ever seen). Qui Gon, who had to suffer from a year on the run with Smitten Padawan Obi Wan and smitten Protectee Satine, immediately recognizes the looks in both their eyes and decides he is too old for this shit. He ignores all of it to go play flirt with Shmi (neither he nor Shmi are actually interested in each other and they know it. Qui Gon has not been attracted to anyone other than Tahl and in this one Shmi is very much a Lesbian. They both enjoy flirting and are glad they have someone they can do it with without giving the wrong idea).

I am torn between if I want Padme and Anakin to immediately do the same thing to Rex (‘oooh pretty’), or if I want Anakin to look at Padawan Ahsoka and go ‘oh she’s little sister shaped’ and immediately try to adopt her (Between Anakin and Korkie rampant big brother instincts, the logical consequences of Satine and Obi Wan having a healthy sex life, and the Mandalorian adoption gene- Satine comes by it honestly, no is sure how Obi Wan managed to inherit it- the ruling family of Mandalore has something like 15 children; Anakin is still the oldest).

The negotiations start and the Duke and Duchess of Mandalore absolutely insist that Commander Cody be there through every step of it. It is in part because they are being little shits toward the representatives(all of whom had been vocal in the belief that the clones were not sentient) and making them flinch whenever one or the other goes ‘And what do you think, Cody, dear?’ It is also so the Duke and Duchess can flirt, heavily and obviously, with Cody the entire time he is there.

Cody is a bit baffled, since he is not usually the person drawing attention (both for dehumanizing reasons and Cody is oblivious reasons), but does enjoy the flirting. He also returns the interest in Obi Wan and Satine. Three of the eight representatives began to ask his opinion on their own somewhere around day three.

At the two week mark, working in tandem, Obi Wan and Satine spring the trap that they had been weaving since the beginning (Cody had been warned what they were doing, and they made sure he was in agreement-which he would have been even if he had not been attracted to the other two, just for the benefits to his brothers). For two weeks they manipulated the representative, and in turn the senate, to get those representatives an unprecedented amount of power in treaty making (Since part of the treaty process, particularly with something like a senate involved, is ratifying the treaty in which the negotiators take it back to the people in charge to agree, there is a vote and all that). Basically anything these representatives agree to is binding, law within the republic, no restrictions on what they can agree to. No one in the senate realized that these eight now had that power, that they had given them that power. Now Obi Wan and Satine led the representative around by the nose until they were agreeing to all sorts of things. Things like the clones of Jango Fett, and clones in general, would be recognized by the sentience of their species (with which comes all kinds of rights and responsibilities on the part of the senate to clones). They also convince the representatives to seal the new treaty with Commander Cody's hand in marriage (incidentally making all of the Fett Clones Mandalorian citizens). It should be noted that the reason these representatives agreed to that was that they, personally, would receive the bulk of the bride price for Cody (the final price was actually higher than the republic bought him for in the first place, Cody was very proud).

In addition Mandalore does not quite join the republic, the agreement is to take control of the GAR to fight for the republic. It is worded in such a way that the Jedi are given a choice (thus they can send the children home), a number stay with their battalions but some are also able to be called back from the field. The GAR naval officers, the natborns, were to be replaced by Mandalorian officers. The few officers that wished to would need to sign up with the Mandalorians (there were a few that wanted to continue serving with the Clones). One of the concessions from the Duke and Duchess was that, though back pay would be handled by the senate, pay for the GAR going forward would come from Mandalore(the reason that the representatives agreed to let Mandalore take over the GAR, they felt quite proud of themselves). Without knowing it this also derails the Orders on the chips, since Palpatine is no longer in the chain of command, no matter what title he does or does not take.

Three months after the Chancellor’s office stopped being in the loop for the war, the CIS and the Republic sue for peace. Sitting across from each other on a neutral world but publicly broadcasted throughout the galaxy are Count Dooku and Chancellor Palpatine with Mand’alor Obi Wan Kenobi there to mediate. Dooku and Palpatine have too much on each other to reveal that the other is a secret Sith (not without the assurance of victory, which they do not have). They are forced to play this as if they are both well meaning leaders trying to do what is best for their people, as neither has an army backing them any more (The GAR is now Mandalorian and they have destroyed the droid army). Obi Wan wants to get home to his spouses (Satine was pregnant again, while they would love any and all children equally, Obi Wan was hoping that the little one would be born with Cody’s features).

I cannot emphasize enough that Obi Wan does not know he is sitting with two Sith who, if they thought they could get away with it, would kill him and subjugate the galaxy. He honestly does think that the other two are doing their best (He knows as a leader himself that sometimes a leader will make unpopular or not understandable choices for the betterment of their people-because they had bad information or because of their own prejudices).

Two Sith are forced to negotiate a peace they do not want because not negotiating (or stalling) would be so obvious as to give them away and if they are exposed now the entire plan is for nothing.

They are not down and out yet, but it is not far off. Their plans are derailed, and the person who did it never even noticed.

And I think that is the ending both of them truly deserve.

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aroacedindjarin · 1 year

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I know so many people have said this already and in much more coherent ways than I can but the way luke was depicted in tbobf (and im not just talking about the uncanny valley cgi… why did they not just recast him orz) makes me so frustrated even now. Especially now. Maybe i’m just a delusional dinluker but i really really believe that luke skywalker needed to be in the mandalorian season3.

I cannot believe luke skywalker would make grogu choose between his dad and becoming a jedi. It is just so explicitly ooc for him. I’m reading the destiny path comic right now and there are so many pages that show luke struggling with the worry that he can’t be a Jedi because he can’t let go of his attachments to his friends. and i know this is a core theme of luke as a character, it’s not new, but the comic is just so explicit about it and goes into depth in a way that it doesn’t have time to explore on screen

It explores luke’s worry about disappointing yoda when he left dagobah to go help leia and han in cloud city, and how he feels about ben and yoda refusing to talk to him anymore or help him through the force because he didn’t make his jedi training a priority above everything and everyone else, like a Selfless Jedi should. and grogu goes through the literal exact same thing. and luke reacts in the exact same way yoda and ben did to him?

In the comic, the radio silence from his teachers eats at him so badly and adds to the struggle he’s going through after finding out Vader is his father and losing his hand. He feels abandoned and afraid and, even though these feelings lead him to realise he can make his own way as a jedi, I just don’t think he’d inflict the same thing on grogu. Even if i were to look at it from a perspective of luke being forced to make his own way without his teachers made him a stronger jedi - so maybe he’s doing the same for grogu?

After all, I know grogu is such a young child so I also understand the series tries to come at it from the angle of respecting a child’s wants and needs, not forcing him to commit to training if he doesn’t want to. But I just don’t understand why luke couldn’t join grogu every now and then. Teach him some jedi stuff on the weekends. They make it seem like luke has nothing better to do anyways, he’s got droids building his school for him and seems to spend his days entirely with grogu anyway. If he went back to tatooine with grogu at the end of tbobf, i just think there would have been so much to explore between luke and literally any of the characters. din and boba specifically of course but if that led to luke in mando s3 there could’ve been so much potential.

Perhaps they just needed a reason for a big emotional scene for grogu to choose his path and his destiny. Perhaps they couldn’t put luke skywalker in the show too much for fear of throwing off the sequels. There’s the argument that luke already had his screen time and, trust me, I also hate the re-usual of existing characters to the point where they’re wringed out of any substance and have been so fleshed-out and developed it’s almost grotesque to force them to stay in the show any longer. but star wars doesnt have a problem with that for so many other characters anyway.

I just wanted to see grogu growing up to be both a Mandalorian and a Jedi. It would’ve been so perfect with the Mand’alor Din storyline too. Grogu, the son of the Ruler of Mandalore and the student of the strongest Jedi in the galaxy, the start of a new generation and so much foundation to explore between Mandalorians and Jedi!!!!!!!

#i was literally just ranting about this to my beloved mutual but i need this on my blog too.#hinderr if ur reading this hi #luke skywalker #dinluke #the mandalorian #star wars #long post

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mandalorianchronicles · 1 year

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Din and Grogu’s Story Arc

So one of the things that a lot of people seem to be struggling with this season is the direction of the storytelling. Where is the plot? Why is Din being made a side character in his own show? Why is Bo-Katan getting such a prominent role, when she’s barely been in the series thus far? When is the bad guy going to come into play?

One of the things that the Mandalorian has always done is blend its storytelling techniques - balancing the episodes that have a specific crisis, solution, execution, and conclusion within that one 30-50 min block with episodes that are more focused on advancing the ongoing narrative. Allow me to offer a brief recap of the story as it pertains to Din and Grogu:

Season 1: 1-3 - Din is hired to deliver Grogu to the Empire and saves him instead 4-6 - Din makes a living doing what he does, but now as a single parent 7-8 - Din protects his child from Moff Gideon who is trying to steal him Season 2: 1-3 - Din is looking for Mandalorians who can point him to a Jedi so Grogu can be with his own kind 4 - Din goes on a side quest that reveals why the Empire wanted Grogu 5 - Din meets an ex-Jedi who won’t train his son, but who shows him how to reach other Jedi 6-8 - Grogu is taken by the Empire; Din works with Mandos + friends to get him back; Din accidentally acquires an important heirloom; Grogu leaves with Luke The Book of Boba Fett Grogu decides to leave Luke and return to Din Season 3: 1-3 - Din redeems himself so he and Grogu can be accepted back into the Covert - they bring a now homeless Bo-Katan with them 4 - Din begins training Grogu as a Mandalorian; he and Bo work to save another Mandalorian’s child 5 - Din (with Grogu) and Bo lead a mission that gives the Covert a new home on Nevarro where their children can be free to “play in the sun” 6 - Din, Bo, and Grogo begin a quest to find other Mandalorians so they can reclaim their home planet and have a permanent place to call home; Din returns the Darksaber to the person he believes will best lead their people

There are two chapters left of season 3, but when we recap the story just focusing on Din and Grogu, is there any real confusion about what the focus of the plot is? It’s the same as it always was: Din is trying to do what is best for his little clan of two (perhaps soon to be three). First, he was just trying to protect Grogu from those who would harm him. Then, he was trying to what was best for the child by returning him to the people he thought were better suited to raise him. Then, in Book of Boba Fett (which is mostly about finding your tribe, a central theme to Mandalorian culture), Grogu returns to where he truly belongs - with Din.

Now that Grogu is with Din, Din’s focus changes. He is no longer content to just be a bounty hunter or a mercenary for hire. He is a father now, so he is looking to lay down roots. He wants what all parents want most - a better life for their children than the one they had. His many adventures along the way have broadened his understanding of his own culture. He wants to restore Mandalore, but he doesn’t want to do it with the motivation of leading the clans. He wants to do it so his son can have a stable and fulfilling life. He never wanted the Darksaber. He never wanted to be Mand’alor. He just wants to be a dad...but if I’m reading the room right, I believe he’s starting to consider the possibility of raising his son alongside someone who he trusts and might be beginning to love. And in typical Din “reluctant main character” Djarin fashion - the person he is beginning to care for is the once and future Mand’alor, Bo-Katan Kryze. And I believe she is beginning to care for him.

That’s the story they’re telling - it’s a story about a growing Mandalorian family. We’re still in the early days of “will they, won’t they” with Din and Bo-Katan, but the writers couldn’t be more obvious that they’re hinting it as a possibility. That may please you or disappoint you - but if you’re stuck on the idea of Din Djarin needing to be a powerful leader in order to be relevant to the show, you probably ought to be rooting for him and Bo-Katan to get together. If you want it to go back to being the adventures of Din and Grogu, Clan of Two...you won’t be rooting for the “Dinbo” ship to put to sea.

One last thought: if this isn’t the story that you envisioned them telling, I can empathize. After all, I did not enjoy the story they told in the Sequels, for all that it damaged the stories already written. But just because something did not go the way we wanted it to, does not necessarily mean that it is a bad story. We, as fans, must remember that we are not the storytellers. Sit back and listen to story being told. If, when you reach the end of it, you decide you didn’t like it - that’s your prerogative. But there are a great many fans who do enjoy the story that The Mandalorian is telling. And trust me, the plot isn’t lost. The story isn’t disjointed. It’s all right there.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin #bo-katan kryze #grogu #mand'alor #the darksaber #the book of boba fett #star wars

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queer-starwars-bracket · 10 months

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Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 1): Legends Match 1

Ferrus Olin| Identity: gay | Media: Jedi Quest/Last of the Jedi

Ferrus Olin was created by Jude Watson for the Jedi Quest series of junior novels. He was the apprentice of Siri Tachi, and a rival of Anakin Skywalker. The two padawans often had to work together due to their masters often collaborating on missions. He left the Jedi Order right before the Clone Wars. As the protagonist of the 2005-2008 junior novel series Last of the Jedi, he started a business with Roan Lands, which eventually led to them founding the rebel organization The Eleven. This organization was destroyed by the Empire, leading to Ferrus and Roan teaming up with Obi-Wan Kenobi to set the early foundations for the Rebel Alliance. Vader eventually destroyed his rebel cell, killing Roan. Ferrus spent the rest of his life secretly watching over Leia on Alderaan, until he was killed by Vader in 0ABY.

Due to the times, his relationship with Roan could only be heavily implied, but Jude Watson has stated that she wrote them as a married couple. This makes him and Roan one of the earliest queer characters in Star Wars.

(Apologies for any errors in the summary, this is one of the few characters in this poll I have no personal experience with.)

Goran Beviin | Identity: mlm | Media: Boba Fett: A Practical Man/Legacy of the Force

The infamous Karen Travis wrote one of the first gay male characters in Star Wars? Surprisingly, yes.

Goran Beviin was a Mandalorian Protector who was originally hired by the Yuuzhan Vong to assist in their invasion of the galaxy, but the Protectors eventually turned against the Yuuzhan Vong and fought against them in the ensuing war. He and his husband Medri Vasur adopted the 14 year old war orphan and Mandalorian Supercommando Dinue Jeban. He was one of Boba Fett’s most trusted lieutenants and even served as interim Mand’alor for a time. After the war, he settled down on a farm on Mandalore with his husband and daughter.

Vasur was described as Beviin’s partner in the 2008 novel Legacy of the Force: Revelations. Karen Traviss clarified that they were supposed to be married, which was included in the December 2008 The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia.

(Apologies for any errors in the summary, this is one of the few characters in this poll I have no personal experience with.)

Art by @kix

#sw #star wars #sw legends #legacy of the force #mandalorians #jedi quest #last of the jedi #ferrus olin #goran beviin

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skybreakprimeonao3 · 4 months

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Once Again, for the First Time (2855 words) by SkybreakPrime Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala/CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody, CT-7567 | Rex, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Din Djarin Additional Tags: Fluff, hand waving political stuff, families, young characters growing up, lots more characters as support characters, Clones, Jedi, Not Beta Read, Tags to update, Force-Sensitive Clone Troopers (Star Wars), mand’alor cody, Uncle Obi-Wan, Uncle Cody, Anakin trying to be better, part three, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Series: Part 3 of From Tomorrow that Never Came Summary:

The Sith Lord has been removed from the Galactic Senate and Cody tries to find a new way in the galaxy for himself and his family.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #codywan #commander cody #the clone wars #captain rex #Luke Skywalker #Din Djarin #Obi-Wan Kenobi #SkybreakPrime fanfiction #Anakin Skywalker #Padmé Amidala

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eggdrawsthings · 1 year

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hewwo (trying new ways to say "hi" thoughts?) Since you seem to be a dignified person with dignified taste in storys, what would my good sir recommend in reading? Or do thou have a favourite that thou fancy? #i mean the mandalorian #we people that don’t want to read romance

Howdy m'lady!

Well, I don't read that many fics in general, and the fics I read you probably alr know/read b4. I'll try to name a few that I keep coming back to check for updates and just to feel something in my soul lol

The Mand’alor and the Jedi : The best fic series out there yet. Literally just dad and son longing for each other, them bonding and trying to understand each other better, Din doing everything in his power to protect his son. Our old man sure did not sign up for the Mand'alor role but he still does his best at his job and everyone respects him for who he is. The writer really understands the characters and the new OCs in the story are interesting as well. There r also a lot of world-building regarding Mandalore itself so it really is everything I asked for haha. Big plus: Din doesn't remove his helmet for no reason, and he keeps it on most of the time.

Dream Child: my second fave. Still waiting for more updates from the writer lol I think there's only 1 more chapter left. The way the writer came up w the lore is so interesting. Also a lot of father and son bonding and learning/re-learning how to communicate and care for each other. Plus Ahsoka does a lot more for the wee boi and Din here than in canon so god bless. Big plus: again, Din doesn't remove his helmet for no reason, and he keeps it on most of the time.

Found: a short one, just Din trying to adjust his temper while caring for the green bean

Yet Sweeter Still Shall Be the Tears: another short one of Din trying to take care of his frog son

Infant Car Seat Required: i just- i really love seeing this awkward old man trying his best to take care of and understand a fucking toddler ig o(-(

Apostates and Ever Afters: not much to say about this other than it's super sweet. Kinda a reflection of Din and bebé's choices post-Booba's Book event.

Other than these, I dont think I have anything else to offer. I look at Mando's fanart a lot more than reading fics hahahah. But anw, glad to see more noromo mando comrades out there, i hope you find sth worthwhile here lol

#thoughts in space #msflowerpot

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rinixo · 1 year

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thrones and people and cities

Din Djarin/Reader | 6.9k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, Mand’alor!Din Djarin, smut, piv sex, resolved romantic tension, light angst, slight power imblance |

The first time you met the Mand’alor, you didn’t realize it was him. Perhaps it was because all Mandalorians tended to blur together and look the same to your inexperienced eyes, or maybe it was because you found him hiding at your workstation.

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: The character of 'reader' in this fic is the same scholar!reader, but the setting is set in an AU where Din is Mand'alor and does not know reader prior. I took many creative liberties with Mandalorian culture, but tried to stay within the realm of what is known through canon and legends. Final line is from ‘Fire and Blood’ by GRRM.

You had gotten used to seeing the armored warriors during your few short weeks on Mandalore, but rarely did they spend much time in your presence - or you theirs. So one early morning, when you rounded the corner towards your desk, a nice steaming cup of caf in your hand, you were quite surprised to see a tall figure hovering over your research.

You paused, confused. As part of a diplomatic delegation from Naboo, you had been assigned various tasks relating to your academic expertise. You had yet to have anyone other than the ambassadorial team come to check in on your research - which you did not mind, you preferred working without the uninterested glazed stares of politicians over your shoulder. Seeing a Mandalorian looking at your work was quite unusual.

Clearing your throat, you shuffled awkwardly on your feet. “Um…can I help you with something?” The armored man - was it a man? you couldn’t tell - turned slightly to face you, and while you could not see their expression you had a feeling that you had caught them off guard.

“Ah…no,” came the vocoder's reply. You raised a brow slightly and sipped on your caf.

“Ok…” you said slowly, walking towards your desk. “Well…do you mind if I sit down?” You inclined your head towards your chair in front of your workstation. “I have some charting to get done.”

The Mandalorian immediately stepped to the side to allow you to move in. “By all means,” he replied, and you passed him a small, polite smile as you slide into your seat.

You expected him to leave, but instead, the armored figure stayed near the side of your station, hovering. You tried your best to ignore him as you booted up your console, feeling awkward and not knowing if you should say anything.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” You asked again. The Mandalorian shook his head, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes as you returned to your work. You noticed that he seemed to try to act casual and lean against the wall, but his helmet would turn every so often to the doorway, keeping an eye on it. You had heard that Mando’s could be paranoid, but this felt ridiculous.

A good half hour passed, and all the while the armored man stayed at your station while you worked on your charts. Sometimes footsteps could be heard outside your workspace, and you would notice he would stiffen and slink back until he was cloaked in the shadows of the small room you were in.

“Are you hiding?” You finally asked after the Mandalorian had all but ducked behind your station as a group of different people passed outside your door. The incredulity in your tone was obvious, and he immediately put his hands on his hips, body language indicating offense.

“No,” he challenged, and you scoffed. “I’m…inspecting.” He made a show of looking around the room, to the back of your workstation, to the cobwebbed corners of the ceiling.

“Inspecting,” you repeated. “Right.” You leaned back in your chair, opening your hands in a ‘go ahead and look’ gesture to the work in front of you. To his credit, the Mandalorian shuffled over to peer down at your desk, eyeing over the data and charts.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he replied gruffly, and you smirked.

“You don’t even know what you’re looking at, do you?”

Part of you wondered if sassing a heavily armed Mandalorian was a good idea. He had kind of started it, you decided, by being so weird.

Arms crossed, the Mando fixed you with what you were sure was a pointed, helmeted glare. “Charts,” he finally decided, and this time you did roll your eyes.

—

You didn’t realize that the “inspector” was actually the Mand’alor until the second time you met. It was a few days after your odd encounter with the shiny-armored Mando, and you were in the mess hall, taking your midday meal while listening to your colleagues chat. Some of the Mandalorians were also present, a mixture of the helmet and helmet-less heads peppered amongst the different diplomatic delegations staying in the capital buildings. Mandalore had grown in population tremendously over the past year since the Mand’alor had rallied his people back to reclaim and resettle the planet, but still, there was a sense of hesitation amongst many of the armored warriors towards the visiting dignitaries.

In particular, scholars and academics like yourself were met with the most distance. The Mandalorian people seemed to favor those who practiced more combat-based skills than those whose expertise lay in other areas. It made sense, as their creed and warrior lifestyle were one of the things they were able to cling to after the great purge. By no means were they a stupid or unintelligent people, but you had much less in common with them as a whole than the military and other leaders you were with did.

As a result, all of this made you feel even more strange when a broad Mandalorian guard approached you at your table. You raised a brow, mouth full of the stew you were munching on.

“The Mand’alor requests your presence,” the guard said briskly, and you forced yourself to swallow the food in your mouth before you choked it back up out of surprise. Your colleagues around you fell silent as they watched. None of you had ever been asked to meet or even be in the presence of the leader of the Mandalorians. On the totem pole of ‘important people,’ you were seated quite comfortably near the bottom.

“Now,” the guard added, indicating that you were not going to be allowed to finish your meal. Standing awkwardly, you gave a small shrug towards the faces of your workmates, all of whom were staring in confusion. You guessed that your expression was quite similar.

You followed the guard out of the mess hall and towards the center of the building. Calling it a ‘palace’ would be a stretch, even if that is what it used to be. The building was still littered with rubble, even after a year of repairs, and the once grand fixtures and decorations that still stood were tattered and broken. Coming from the royal city of Theed on Naboo, it was a far different sight than what you were used to when you thought of the word ‘palace’.

Struggling to keep up with the guard's long-legged pace, you cleared your throat. “May I ask why the Mand’alor wants to see me?” You asked. The guard did not spare you an answer and merely quickened his stride. You sighed and hoped that your simple outfit was considered appropriate for meeting the equivalent of the king of this planet.

You were led to a set of reinforced doors, outside which two additional guards stood watch. They straightened and saluted the guard leading you as the pair of you approached.

“Enter,” was all you were told when you looked up at the Mando who had brought you here. You glanced up at the impassive guard, before steeling yourself and pushing open the door.

The room wasn’t large but had a huge vaulted ceiling peppered with holes, no doubt put there by artillery strikes and shrapnel. The midday light streamed in from above, joined by a few lamps set up in the corners. Other than that, it was empty - save for a lone and somewhat familiar man hovering over a low table covered in maps.

He looked up at the sound of the door opening and closing. His hands were braced on the table, and while the armor he wore was the same you had seen him in days ago, he was now also adorned with a thicker and more luxurious-looking fur-lined cloak. Though the room wasn’t very big, it felt like there was an endless chasm opening up between the two of you, and you were resisting the temptation to jump inside of it.

You clamped your mouth shut from where it hung open, throat dry with realization. You had sassed the king of Mandalore. The legendary bounty hunter turned leader of the Mandalorian diaspora. The man who had defeated Moff Gideon slaughtered a krayt dragon and was a personal friend of many other terrifying people, including the daimyo of Mos Espa. If all of the tales and rumors were true – and you had no reason to believe they weren’t – the man could kill you a million different ways with just the cup of caf sitting on the table near his hands.

Your mind fled back to the meeting you and your delegation had with the Naboo ambassador before your arrival on the planet. The importance of being seen and not heard was drilled into your heads, as well as the intergalactic implications of a ‘diplomatic incident’ if you offended someone. You had barely paid attention, not planning to be doing much more than your research while on Mandalore, and internally you kicked your past self for dozing off. If your ambassador were here now, you bet he would have died of shock. Either that or strangled you to death.

You were sure that you had been brought here to be reprimanded, punished, something – but to your shocked surprise, the man relaxed back on his heels, posture open and welcoming.

“Ah. Good timing” came the familiar voice. “Thanks for coming.”

Your eyes narrowed, unsure if this was a joke or not. “You’re…” you trailed off lamely.

“Not an inspector,” the Mand’alor acquiesced, tipping his head in a small show of acknowledgment. “My apologies for not introducing myself the other day. I was not expecting to be…confronted.”

You paused, thinking back to this man – this king – hiding behind your desk. It had seemed silly back then, but now it was just ludicrous. Like a fever dream. No one was ever going to believe you.

The Mand’alor gestured for you to move closer to the table, and you responded with leaden legs. “P-pardon my behavior, your highness-“ you stuttered out, pausing when he sighed and put up his hand.

“Don’t,” he said shortly, making you wince. He immediately softened his posture in response. “Please, it’s all right. You did not offend me,” you wondered if the sound of his smile was genuine or not, “And you don’t need to call me that.”

You nodded slowly. “All right.” You stood as straight as you could, hands clasped behind your back, trying to appear as proper as you could. “What can I do for you, your high- sir?”

Thankfully he ignored your clumsy slip of the tongue and gestured to the table behind him. “I need your help with something.” He shuffled some charts – physical ones, on actual paper – and pulled up a hologram of a star system.

“I’m looking for something,” he continued. “A planet, I think, or at the very least a civilization. It’s been lost for many millennia, but I was hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction.”

You nodded, interest perking up despite your recent shock. As an archeo-astronomer, you assisted many people with deciphering ancient star maps to track down treasures or chart the movement of ancient astronomic bodies. Most of the time your clients were impossibly rich with nothing better to do than spend millions of credits tracking down a family’s lost heirloom. This was the first time a head of state had ever asked for assistance.

“Do you know what it’s called?” You asked, inquisitiveness making you feel braver. You peered down at the charts as the Mand’alor pushed one gently toward you.

“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure it even exists. But it’s important to me that I try.” The sincerity in his voice made you smile softly, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you eagerly leaned over the table to get a better look. The Mand’alor explained that what he was looking for was for someone very important to him, and while he could not give you very many details, he was able to show you all of what he had managed to pull together so far.

“It’s not much,” he sighed. “But I’ve reached the limit of my ability to make sense of it all.” You had since pulled out your datapad and were beginning to cross-reference pieces of the data on the table with your research.

“It isn’t much,” you agree after a moment, “But it is something. I’ve managed more with less.”

There was a hum of admiration from the man at that. “Thank you. I can compensate you, of course-“

“Oh, no,” you interrupted. “That’s not necessary.” You were here on behalf of your people to assist the Mandalorians, were you not? Accepting payment felt wrong to you.

“Very well,” the Mand’alor’s voice sounded amused. “If you need access to resources, anything – please just ask.”

You passed him a small smile. “I will.”

The weeks passed by swiftly now that you had something to focus on. Before you had been doing some basic research, nothing groundbreaking, but now you felt invigorated and excited about what you were looking for. The Mand’alor had gifted you with quite the puzzle to solve.

You didn’t see him very often, but he would stop by your workstation every few days to check in on your progress. The more you discovered, the more elaborate your charting and analytics were becoming, and your work expanded to fill the small room you were in. The Mand’alor would stand quietly as you explained what you were doing and what all the numbers and coordinates meant. You appreciated that he listened, and sometimes even proffered a question or two. Thinking about how he was a king sometimes made you stumble over your words, but he would set you back on track with a gentle but firm affirmation of your work.

You learned that he had been hiding that first day when you found him at your workstation. In an attempt to escape a gaggle of advisors and dignitaries, he had ducked into the alcove you had claimed as your own. You teased him gently, finding the whole idea of the legendary Mandalorian bounty hunter hiding from powdered politicians for a brief moment of silence endearing.

The man had also told you his real name – Din – one late evening. You were running out of ways to address him, and he could tell you were struggling with not calling him by a title. With the name, your friendship then began to grow even more familiar, and you felt a little special knowing something that most others were not privy to.

This particular day, you were compiling galactic coordinates when the stoic leader showed up at your doorway. You turned to greet him but paused as you noticed a small figure at his side, holding onto his leg. It looked to be a child, with wrinkly green skin, large ears, and wide, curious eyes. It looked up and around your room in awe, gaze following the holograms of stars as they floated serenely about the space.

“I thought you might like to meet the one you’re putting all this work in for,” Din said lightly, looking down at the figure at his feet. You smiled softly as you stood, hands clasped lightly behind your back.

“Hello,” you said politely, introducing yourself. The child blinked up at you, mouth opening in a small coo.

“This is Grogu,” Din translated, and at the mention of his name, the child looked up at the armored man. “My son.”

Your eyes widened, and you coughed lightly into your fist. “Your…son,” you repeated, almost as a question. Your mind raced, trying to correlate the appearance of the baby with the armored man in front of you. You knew Mandalorians didn’t all look humanoid, though all of those that you had met so far did. You had just assumed that the Mand’alor would be the same. You also had not heard that he was a father, or married, or whatever it was that Mandalorians did in that regard. Something in you twinged with what almost felt like jealousy – towards who or what, you could not place.

“Well,” you croaked out, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “He is…quite adorable. Does he take after his mother?” You asked hopefully. That got a real laugh out of the man, and you flushed in response. You were just curious…

“No, no,” Din explained. “He’s a foundling. Like…adoption,” he clarified.

You flushed darker with the realization. Of course. Adoption. That made much more sense.

“Ah…well, I’m glad to meet you, Grogu,” you were eager to change the subject, and continued with the conversation. “Is there anything, in particular, you’d like to see?”

Din stooped to pick up the child and held him at his side. “He doesn’t speak,” the man explained, stepping further inside the room. “But he understands. I was hoping you could show him your progress so far. I think he would like that.”

Nodding, you passed them a small grin and turned to adjust your hologram. Explaining coordinates and charts was not easy for the average adult to understand, not to mention a little child. A visual representation would be better.

The three of you stood under the moving lights of the hologram as you explained as simply as you could what you had discovered so far. When Grogu reached his hands out towards the spinning planets, you zoomed in to allow him to play with the lights, a delighted grin on his little face. You entertained him by fast-forwarding through supernovae and asteroid impacts, showering the room in bursts of light that reflected like fireworks in his dark eyes.

You finished up, now talking more to his father than him as you broke down what point you were at in your findings. You were not near any kind of solid conclusion yet, but you were further along than he had ever gotten, and you preened inwardly as he told you so.

“Thank you for showing him,” Din spoke. Grogu looked from his father’s helmeted face to yours and stretched out a little green hand.

“Of course,” you responded, extending your hand to meet the childs. He grasped your fingers and cooed again. Your body was suddenly filled with a brief but overwhelming sense of wonderment and admiration that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but as soon as he let go of you it faded. You gaped as the Mandalorian bid you farewell and watched as he marched out of the room, his little green child peering back at you over his father’s shoulder.

The months passed without much incident. You continued your research, sometimes joined by the Mand’alor and his son, but mostly on your own. You were absorbed in your work, finding yourself wanting a reason for the man to come and see what you had discovered. The days you had a lot to show him were the days he spent the most time with you, and so you worked hard to have something worthwhile to present.

The weather began to grow colder, and the Mandalorians began to prepare for some kind of celebration. It was based on a tradition of old, something to do with saying farewell to the warm autumn months and welcoming in the bitter bite of winter. It was the first time the nomadic people would have the chance to celebrate in a central location before the purge, and so the palace was alight with preparation and excitement.

You yawned, leaning back in your chair and looking up at the ceiling. The celebration itself culminated in a grand feast later that night, to be held in the throne room. All the foreign delegations were invited as well, and you were more than happy to mingle quietly while eating all of the delicious food you had smelled being prepared for the last couple of days.

Rubbing your eyes, you stood. A break from your work would do you good, you decided. A nice evening, a few drinks, and then you could start again the next day feeling refreshed.

A few hours later, you found yourself in the grand central throne room, surrounded by many other excited, chatting people. Dressed simply in traditional Naboo formalwear, you sipped on a pleasantly sweet cocktail and munched on the plentiful hors d’ouevres. The feast was set to begin shortly with the arrival of the Mand’alor and his retinue, so you began to make your way toward the long table reserved for the Naboo delegation.

A soft touch on your shoulder made you turn, and you saw the same guard that had escorted you to Din months earlier. “My lady,” the guard said quietly, and you blinked at the honorific. “The Mand’alor wishes to invite you to his table for the feast, in a show of thanks for your assistance.” You blinked again, not sure what to say in response. You glanced up at the main table in the front of the room, where it was set up on the dais. It was very central, you noticed. Your heart fluttered anxiously.

“I…would be delighted,” you squeaked out, and the guard nodded. He stepped aside and gestured for you to move towards the dais as the sound of horns signaled the rest of the guests to make their way to their seats.

Ahead of you, the Din and his advisors – and Grogu, you saw – were settling in at the royal table. Din was dressed more resplendently than you had ever seen him before. His armor shone, and his clothing underneath was dyed a rich series of earthy browns, reds, and greens. His helmet was adorned by what looked like a crown of beskar, shaped like the horns of some great beast. A heavy cloak sat on his shoulders, lined with plush, cream fur. All in all, it was stunning and took your breath away. In comparison, you felt severely underdressed, especially now that you would be joining him in front of the hundreds of others in attendance.

Expecting to be seated at the very end of the long table, your head swam as you were instead led directly to the center of the table where Din was sitting. A chair to his left was open, and the guard pulled it out for you, clearly indicating that you were to sit there.

You sat stiffly, avoiding the looks of your delegation below – especially the icy gaze of the head ambassador. Instead, you focused on the table, looking at the impressive spread of delicacies laid out before you.

“Are you all right?” A low voice asked from your side. You glanced over at Din, who sat more relaxed in his lavish wear. On his other side, Grogu babbled and reached his hands out toward the steaming dishes in front of him.

Clearing your throat, you nodded shortly. “Yes,” you ventured. “I was just not expecting to sit here. In the middle. With you.”

Din reached a hand over subtly and laid it over your own. “It’s the least I can do, to repay you for everything you’ve done so far,” he explained. “And it’s my table. I can sit next to whomever I want.”

You let out a small laugh at the sarcastic tone in his voice. During your time on Mandalore, you had come to understand the mysterious leader and the events that led to him being here a bit more. He was the very definition of a reluctant leader, uncomfortable with titles and more concerned with helping others than putting himself above them. He had a reputation for being firm, but kind. Strong, yet gentle where it mattered. His actions had endeared many to his service, pledging their bodies and weapons to his cause, and he took that very seriously. You got the feeling that deep down he was just as uncomfortable as you, sitting there as the center of attention, and that made you feel marginally better.

The feast began with a short tale from a Mandalorian elder, detailing the history behind the festivities. You tried to listen but found yourself distracted by Din’s hand remaining on your own. The warm, heavy weight of his hand dwarfed yours, and your appetite was forgotten as his thumb brushed gently against your skin.

As the evening went on, you sipped slowly from your glass and made small conversations with those around you. The Mand’alor greeted the various guests who came up to the table to introduce themselves and share their gratitude for the invitation. Grogu had moved from his seat to his father’s lap, and you watched in amusement and amazement at how much food he managed to consume.

Soon it was the Naboo’s turn to approach the table, and you avoided looking directly at the ambassador as he swished up towards the dais. He made some grand, pompous statements about how the Naboo valued their relationship with Mandalore before he turned awkwardly towards you.

“You honor us by inviting one of our delegation to your table, your highness,” the ambassador bit out. “I hope the girl is representing our people appropriately.” You frowned into your drink as you swallowed. The man was obviously put off by the fact that it was you at the Mand’alor’s side, and not one of the ambassadorial staff. His gaze felt like it was probing every inch of your skin, commanding you to explain yourself. Who did you think you were?

“The honor is mine,” Din replied smoothly, “to have the privilege of working with such an intelligent and determined woman. Her contributions to a personal project of mine cannot be overstated.” He turned so that his helmet faced you, and you looked back at him as your heart swelled. “The Naboo are blessed to have someone such as her to represent them.”

To have the leader of Mandalore drop the kindest words anyone had ever said about you so firmly in front of the now-flustered ambassador made feelings you didn’t have names for blossom from your head to your toes. You had no words and just looked back at the man who had still not removed his hand from yours. You hoped your gaze said what your voice could not.

The ambassador said a polite but curt farewell, and you blinked back tears as the feast continued.

As the festivities died down, you looked around the slowly emptying room. Most of the guests had begun to leave, either to go sleep off the copious amounts of food and liquor they had consumed or to continue the celebrations elsewhere with even more food and liquor. You were contemplating getting up and heading to your sleeping quarters when Din turned towards you.

“I should get him to bed,” he said softly, and you looked down to his lap where Grogu was curled up in his arms. “Will you walk with me?”

You nodded, rising as he did, following at his side as the two of you left the throne room. The hallways were fairly quiet and lit by shining lunar light that filtered in through great windows and open arches. The cool air was refreshing after the time spent in the throne room, and you found yourself thinking that the palace was becoming a beautiful place after all.

“Thank you,” you said as you walked. Din inclined his head towards you, his arms cradling his softly snoring son. “Those were the kindest things anyone has ever said about me.”

“I meant them,” came his reply, and you felt your cheeks warm. You wondered if you should compliment him in turn, spill out all the lovely things about him that made you feel dizzy and grounded all at once. All of it got caught in your throat all at once, and you settled for comfortable silence as you continued towards his chambers.

The journey ended all too soon, an abrupt stop outside heavy doors. You stood back as Din pushed the door open slowly, trying not to jostle the child too much. He turned to look back at you, silhouetted by warm lamplight from inside his chambers.

You suddenly felt incredibly overwhelmed by all the events leading up to this very moment. You thought back to the ambassador’s icy stare. Who did you think you were? You were a scholar from Naboo. No one special. Not part of any aristocratic or royal family. You were only added to the delegation because no one else in your department was willing to go. Who were you, to work with the leader of Mandalore? To sit next to him in front of his entire court, to have him touch your hand so softly?

Who were you to hope that he’d invite you inside his rooms?

“Let me put him down, and I can escort you back-“

“No need,” you interrupted him. “I’ll make it back all right. Thank you for offering, though.”

He paused like he wanted to argue it with you, but you were already backing away. “All right,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Your replied voice pitched too high in an attempt to drown out the other emotions threatening to bubble up and out of your chest. You quickly turned and trotted away, trying to ignore how long it took to hear the sound of his door closing.

Din gently set Grogu down in his cradle, tucking him into the soft blankets. All of the excitement from the evening had done a good job of tiring him out, and he let out a soft snore as he snuggled into the bedding. Pulling off his helmet, Din placed it on his bed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He sat next to it, slouched over, hands clasped in front of him.

He thought about you.

The way the corner of your mouth would lift a nanosecond before you broke out into a full smile. The way your eyes crinkled with humor at his dry wit. The way you’d focus on your work, chewing on your lip as you unraveled whatever problem currently blocking your way forward.

Sighing, Din pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling foolish. Had he embarrassed you? He had been caught up in the evening, seeing you step hesitantly up the dais to sit next to him, and he had felt his pulse in his throat. Everything he said about you was true, and he’d say it over and over just to see you look at him like you had earlier – but had it been fair to all but force you to sit there next to him? Your idiotic ambassador had made his displeasure all too clear, and he wondered if it would only make things worse if he were to ensure you would not face repercussions for his inability to hide his affection for you.

He had almost invited you into his chambers. It was on the tip of his tongue, and then he had seen the hesitancy in your expression. Had he just imagined the way you had been looking at him recently? The thinly veiled desire? Perhaps he was just seeing the reflection of his thoughts in your eyes. His heart felt like lead.

I am a fool, Din chastised himself. He had become too complacent, too comfortable with structure, with domesticity. Who was he to imagine – to hope, even – that you’d come to feel the same desire he held for you?

You did not see Din for several days after the feast. Partly because you had taken a day to sleep off a heartbreak-fueled hangover, and partly because you were avoiding an uncomfortable confrontation.

After another night of laying restlessly in your bed, you decided to do something to try to clear your head. You had set up a small observatory on the shattered roof of one of the outer buildings, far enough away from the lights of the palace that you could use your telescope. It wasn’t very powerful, but it was light enough for you to pack with you, and looking up at the stars always made you feel better.

Bundling up in a cloak and scarf, you made your way outside. The night air was crisp, the snap of winter on its way. The skies were clear, and the moon was not too bright. Ideal conditions for some light stargazing.

There, he found you, bent over the eyepiece of your telescope. You heard him approaching, the crunch of rubble under his heavy boots. He could move silently if he wished, so you knew he was warning you of his arrival through the soft noise.

He came to stand at your side, hovering, just like the first time you had met him. Not hiding this time, though.

You focused your scope on a nearby planet, looking at its moon. Just one, tidally locked, eternally orbiting for the next however many billions of years until it drifted off or crashed into the surface of the body it was bound to.

The two of you stayed like that, the silence only broken by the occasional sound of a soft breeze. You wondered if you should say something, or if this was the mark of a reset to whatever your fragile relationship was. You could continue to orbit around this, around him, until you drifted away – or you could crash straight into it.

“The galaxy is full of patterns,” you finally broke, and the words started to pour out of you. Din stayed silent, listening intently.

“Doesn’t matter the scale. If you know where to look, and how to look for it, eventually you’ll see the patterns start to emerge. You can track them.” You straightened and looked up towards the sky. Din followed your gaze, the two of you looking up at the twinkling lights in the darkness.

“That’s what I do,” you continued. “It’s like following a trail backward. You start where something is and figure out where it used to be. And the patterns stay. They don’t just appear out of nowhere.”

Tearing your gaze away from the sky, you looked up at Din. He, in turn, looked down at you. Even in the low light, his armor shone like a beacon.

“That sounds comforting,” Din spoke after a moment. “Knowing that some things stay the same.”

“I like the eventuality of it,” you agreed. “It makes life feel less…chaotic. It makes some things feel more meaningful.”

“What kinds of things?” He asked quietly. You gave him a sad, soft smile.

“Discovering new places. Meeting new people,” you explained. “Going to a new market and trying a different version of a meal you grew up eating. The feeling of the different flavors and textures mingling with those you are familiar with reminds you that maybe we’re all not as different as we think we are. That in the end, we all come from the same primordial dust, and it’s back to that dust we’ll eventually return.”

“You should have been a poet instead of an astronomer,” Din breathed out, and you could hear the smile in the way he spoke. You smiled in return.

“Some philosophers believe that mathematical relationships have tones of energy,” you mused. “All connected by patterns of proportions. Music that isn’t audible, but that you feel in your soul.”

“So the galaxy is singing,” Din finished, and you let out a small laugh.

“Now who’s the poet?” You teased.

Din huffed in amusement and reached out a gloved hand. You placed your own in his, the weight of it familiar.

“I am sorry for the other night,” he said quietly, stroking the skin gently near your thumb. You accepted the apology with a soft gaze, not knowing how to respond, and afraid of what he might say next.

“But…I’m also not sorry,” he continued. You felt him squeeze your hand.

“I’m not sorry for thinking you’re beautiful,” he pulled you closer, taking your other hand in his, and cupping them against your two bodies. “Or for wanting to kiss you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. The space between the two of you was narrowing by the second. Instead of drifting off, you were dangerously close to colliding with the king of Mandalore, orbits intertwining.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, sounding as breathless as you felt.

“Please,” you choked out. A flash of silver, as his helmet was lifted off his head, and you barely caught a glimpse of tanned skin and deep, brown eyes before his lips were on yours.

It was gentle at first, almost chaste, but he quickly deepened it with his hand softly cupping your chin. His other arm went to wrap around your waist, pulling you up and into him, and you sighed into it.

The two of you broke apart just enough for your eyes to finally meet. Deep, soulful eyes drank you in, and you brought a hand up to cup his cheek and gently run your thumb over his plush lower lip.

“Wh-what else aren’t you sorry for?” You asked, and his lips turned up into a smile. He took your hand, placing a soft kiss against your palm.

“Let me show you.”

His chambers were warm, his bed even more so. His skin, bare against yours, was practically fire.

The two of you fell into each other easily, pushing and pulling like the tides. His hands cupped your face and then moved down to spread open your thighs so he can taste you between them.

You grasp his hair in your hands – soft, brown curls – and shudder at the feeling of his scruff on the inside of your thigh. If you were more coherent, you’d laugh at knowing it was the Mand’alor you had between your legs, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He took there and then over, and then did it again until you were limp-legged and breathless. Slinking his way back up your body, Din pressed his torso to yours and captured your mouth in another desperate kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” he muttered lowly, and you gazed up at him, vision blurry in your ecstasy. You cup his face, steadying his breath against you.

“I need you in me,” you plead, and Din closes his eyes with a groan.

“Maker,” he breathes. “The things you do to me.” You feel him take himself in his fist, lining up with your soaked cunt. You arch your back as he pushes in, keening at the stretch. He had prepared you well, but the size of him still took some effort to take.

Hunched over your body, he rolls his hips up into you, hands braced on either side of your head. You hook your legs over his hips, trying to keep him as close as you can, all the way to the base. His pace is steady but unforgiving, demanding what you were all too willing to give.

The feeling of his cock filling you so sweetly has you coming undone again, writhing underneath his broad torso. He rides you through it, eyes fixed on your mouth, your breasts, and down to where your bodies are combined.

“So fucking wet,” Din growls, pace quickening as he chases his own release. You clench around him at those words, and he lets out a wrecked groan. “I knew you’d take me so fucking well, beautiful girl-“

“So good,” you gasp out, and his forehead comes down to rest on yours.

“I know,” he rambles, feeding you the thick of him, all the way to the root. A few purposeful thrusts later, you feel him throb inside of you seconds before he groans out your name into your neck as he cums.

His hips are locked to yours, and he ruts up into you – not pulling out, but pushing his seed up against the seal of your womb. Your hands come down to grasp at his waist, nails leaving small crescent moons at the skin there. He shudders against you, overstimulated, chest heaving from exertion. Looking up from your neck, Din, slots his mouth messily over yours once more, finally allowing his full weight to fall between your thighs.

You stay like that for uncounted breathless moments, both of your bodies recovering from the experience of finally, finally joining together. Eventually, your bodies settle so that Din is on his back, and your head rests on his shoulder.

“He’s going to be so mad,” you joke quietly, and Din hums in response.

“Who?”

“The ambassador,” you laugh, and he groans.

“Please don’t talk about him while you’re in my bed,” Din pleads, and you laugh again.

“Who knows how many treaties and policies I’ve broken,” you murmur, lips pressed against his warm skin. You dart your tongue out to taste the salt of him, and he shivers.

“Well,” he says, pulling you up so that he can place sweet, soft kisses on the side of your lips. “As Mand’alor, I can think of how you can fix them.”

You smile against his mouth. “What does the king ask of me?”

He tightens his grip on your waist.

“All I ask is all of you, forever.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #din djarin #mando x reader #reader insert

625 notes · View notes

iron-strangers · 8 days

Text

we will raise warriors

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, PWP, Vaginal sex, Creampie

CW: Breeding Kink, No use of Y/N, Smut (MINORS DNI)

Length: 2.036 words

Read this on AO3: we will raise warriors

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

“Happy love day!” You greet Din at the front door of your home by tackling him with a bear hug, armors and all, presenting a small gift, wrapped rather messily, with a huge, silly red bow on top. “Got you a little something, cyare!”

Din just walked into your home, a grand three-bedroom apartment-style room in the eastern wing of Keldabe Palace. I want to see the sunrise every morning, cyare, you had said when Din asked you to pick your family wing upon moving to the ancient, though newly renovated palace. Din had no preference. No actually, he’d prefer not to live in the old castle. He’d rather live in a house in the countryside, somewhere near a body of water, where he can enjoy nature with his family, away from the responsibility of being The Mand’alor. But anywhere is just as good if he has his beautiful riduur and their foundling with him, Din claimed.

You help your riduur to pull off his cape, hanging the long fabric on its stand near the door. Gone is the old and tattered one, replaced by a floor-length, crimson, soft fabric that more often than not got folded into a birikad for Grogu. You excitedly rush him towards the karyai, sitting him down on a couch and placing the gift in his hand. Not used to getting presents, Din eagerly removes his helmet before pulling the red ribbon off, revealing a small T-shaped metal in a transparent box. He stares at it with a puzzled look on his face before looking back up at you with his head tilted sideways.

“Is this, uh, a new bullet?”

”It is not a bullet, don't you dare to load it into your blaster,” You scold, snatching the box from your riduur's hand. “You remember how we’ve talked about trying for a baby? We’ve been planning it for a while, and then there was that time when we kinda, you know, get excited about it in the throne room?” Oh yeah, Din can’t forget that one, nuh-uh, top ten moment of his life. “So, here it is. This is an IUD, mine. It’s my birth control. I went to the healer this morning to take it out.”

Din stutters, his eyes wide open, looking back and forth at you and the IUD, so expressive behind his helmet, trying to process what he just heard. You smile at him patiently, your hands steady on his shoulder, rubbing tight circles with your thumbs, giving him some time to process the news. A few seconds later, the frown morphs into a smile, a huge grin now adorning his handsome face as he then pulls you to his lap and claims your lips in a flurry of hungry kisses. His hands come up to your jaw to cup your face, holding you ever-so-gently as he peppers your face with kisses, stealing giggles out of you.

“How soon can we start?” Din asks eagerly, beaming to you like a verd’ika who just got his first set of beskar’gam, holding you by your ass and lifting you both from the couch, ignoring your protests, holding tightly around his neck.

“Well, my healer said it might take a few weeks to purge the hormones outta my system, but she also said that anything can happen,” You shrug, absently playing with the tuft of hair reaching his neck, he needs a haircut, you duly noted. “Anyways, the elders are begging for us to start training heirs already, so how about you give us what we all want and fuck a baby into me, ner Mand'alor ?” You lean in to whisper playfully, lightly nibbling on his earlobe.

You watch with a smirk when Din is, once again, completely at a loss for words. His pupils are dark with desire and you can feel him starting to harden in his pants against the swell of your ass. Smirking, you grind down on his growing erection, earning a groan from him, always so easy to tease. “Dont start something you can't finish, Rid'ika,” He warns you, pressing your back against the bedroom wall.

“But we all know how much you want to,” you tease, trailing your hand down his beskar-covered chest all the way to the tenting length straining his flightsuit pants. “Want me all soft and pregnant, looking absolutely yours . Your riduur, your baby- Oh !”

Din throws you on the bed, ignoring your squeals. He immediately crawls on top of you and pins you down with a kiss. His hand sneaks down to pull your armors off one by one. He studies you thoroughly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing his left vambrace that you have worn since your riduurok. He brushes your robes aside, sliding his hand down your belly, admiring your body for a moment. You take his gloves off, wanting to feel your riduur's blaster-calloused fingers on your skin. Your breath catches and the feeling of his hands on you makes you shudder. His middle finger slips beneath the panties and between your slick folds.

“So fucking wet for me, cyar’ika.” Din's lips are back on yours, swallowing your gasps as he circles your sensitive nub. You break the kiss with a sob when you feel Din gathering up your slick on his fingers and he nudges his thick fingers into your heat. You gasp as he slides his fingers deep, crooking his fingers into your sweet spot.

“Right there, Din,” you whine, throwing your head back onto the bed. Your riduur’s hand travels up, cupping your breast and rubbing the pad of his thumb over your pebbled nipple, pulling and pinching. He watches as you chew on your lower lip, trying to stave off your moans.

“Fuck mesh’la , I can’t wait until these are filled with milk. Aching and leaking all day long until I can milk you dry.” Din leans closer to you, rolling your nipple with his tongue. His mouth closes around you and he sucks hard while his other fingers are still leisurely pumping in and out of you, ignoring your pleas.

“Please what, cyar'ika? Where's that smart mouth now, hmm?”

“Please fuck me! Need you to come inside, fill me up with our verd’ika, please, ner alor- ah!”

Din swears hearing your needy whines, eager to give whatever his riduur's wants. He pulls his fingers out of you and taps your drenched folds with the tip of his cock. Din growls, he has denied himself for way too long, tucking his face in the crook of your neck he buries himself all the way into you in one thrust, knocking the breath out of you.

“Force, you fill me up so fucking good .” You moan, letting your head fall down the pillow and grabbing a fistful of the sheet as Din immediately pounds into you. Your walls flutter around his girth, struggling to take him.

Din burns with desire and his primal need to breed takes over. One rough snap of his hips makes you scream as the head of his cock nudges your sweet spot just right, severing the connection to your brain for a moment.

“You like that, cyar’ika?” He leans down, kissing your sweaty temples. You nod, trapped underneath your riduur, wailing and begging and taking everything Din is giving you. He claims your lips and kisses every plea from your mouth before he pulls back, indulging himself by staring down where his cock is buried inside of you. His length is wet and sticky with your arousal and his pre-cum, making him growl and pace himself harder, faster, rougher.

“I know how much you want it, rid'ika- fuck , look at you, made such a mess on my cock, mesh’la. You don’t want me to stop fucking this pussy until you’re all round and swollen with my ad’ika, huh?”

“Yes, please, Mand'alor, please fuck a baby into me, wanna make you a buir.”

“Manda - Soak my cock, mesh'la, c'mon, gonna get you all wet and pregnant.” he snarls, spitting filthy promises as he thrust harder. “That’s it, cyar’ika. Keep on squeezing me like that, sweet girl. Not gonna stop fucking this tight pussy until you're all nice and full with our verd'ika.”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes, Din, cyare,” you moan, rolling your hips greedily. “Wanna give you a baby, Din. Come inside me, please. Please give me your cum, oh, Force-”

Din can’t control himself any longer, he growls gutturally, his fingers digging into your hips as his pace grows sloppier and he shoots the first of his hot, heavy load deep inside of you, holding you hard against his front and rutting his hips as he pumps his seeds into your willing womb. The feeling of Din's seeds flooding your insides is overwhelming, your mind is whiting out, legs trembling and you’re cumming hard, milking the thick shaft, enticing him to pump more loads into you until it leaks down your thigh.

“Don't waste any drop now, cyar’ika.” Din hums, grinning and kissing on your jaw. Slowly he eases himself out of you and watches his cum dripping out of you. He tuts with dismay, gently fingering it back into your puffy cunt, then he gives you his fingers to suck clean.

You settle in his arms, making out with him lazily when he pulls away and smiles, his hand a comforting weight on your tummy. His smile gives you butterflies. Running your fingers up and down his forearm, you beam to him and he almost tips over with the weight of his love and adoration for you.

“I'm so excited,” you whisper softly, admiring the blissful look on your riduur’s face as he sounds his agreement and presses a tickling kiss on your nose. Din plays with your hair, brushing the strands sticking on your sweaty forehead back. “Mesh’la? I like the name Aranar,” Din thinks, and you beam at him, nodding and testing the name on your tongue.

The sun is setting, painting a beautiful glow on both his and your mismatched vambraces. There's a peaceful silence between you, the sound of his breathing evening out lulls you to sleep, almost swallowing you into a slumber when you remember something-

“Oh, I have another present for you, an actual present!”

Din tries to protest, claiming you’ve already given him the best present in the galaxy when you shush him, levitating an equally small box from the side table. You open the box, revealing two identical keys on a plush velvet. Din eyes you curiously, picking one key up.

“Remember that one house we saw near your covert?”

“The one with the big yard near the pond? Did you- No, cyar’ika!”

“It’s ours! No, listen to me,” you huff when your riduur tries to protest again. “We can’t live in the palace forever, Din. I won’t let you to. You don’t like it here, and therefore, neither do I. I figured we’d stay here until Mandalore is stable enough, or until we’ve reached about seventy percent of our rebuilding goal, then we’ll move out. We’ll get speeders to get here every morning, show our adi’ke around, then we’ll come home when the day is done, to a place where the Council of Alor can't steal you away from me. We can make it work, my love.”

Din stares at you adoringly with his big brown eyes, too overwhelmed with the weight of your love to honestly do or say anything other than holding you close and kissing you, caressing your jaw lovingly with each kisses, murmuring a soft thank you over and over again against your lips. “I’ve never- No one’s ever do this much for me,” he mumbles, holding your hand to his heart. “You don’t like it here too? Why don’t you tell me?”

“Oh cyare, you deserve the world and you gave so much for me and our foundling, so of couse I will try to give you a place we both can call home, where we can watch our aliit grows,” You lean into his touch, nuzzling his hand with your jaw, offering him a smile. “And no, I don’t like this place, the force ghosts of previous Mand’alors are creeping me the fuck out!”

“THE WHAT NOW?”

Mando'a translations

Karyai: main living room of a traditional mandalorian house

Riduur: Spouse

Birikad: Baby harness

Mand’alor: Ruler of mandalorians

Alor: Leader

Cyare / cyar’ika: beloved

Riduurok: Love bond / Marriage agreement

Mesh’la: Beautiful

Verd’ika: Little warrior

Aranar: Defend

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intothemurkwood · 9 months

Text

MIGHT OF MAND'ALOR

AO3 Chapter Link: MIGHT OF MAND’ALOR - Chapter 2

Story Summary: Guided by your late father's teachings, you've learned that your powers transcend the conventional divide, showing that things aren't as clear-cut as the Sith and Jedi doctrines suggest. When Moff Gideon seeks your capture and Bo'Katan Kryze defies him, the Great Purge of Mandalore unfolds, setting the stage for a clash between light and darkness, with you trapped in between.

Chapter Summary: The Death Watch Enclave on Concordia is over run.

Word Count: 4K+

Might of Mand'alor Series on AO3

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, ideations of death, self sacrifice, violence toward children, war, genoicide. Arranged Marriage.

Author Note: Terrible things happen in this chapter, but I promise it gets much worse before it gets better.

Tag List: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

==EXPLICIT CONTENT: 18+ ONLY==

CHAPTER 2

Concordia - Death Watch Enclave

“Vizsla,” Theghti calls, drawing you from your thoughts just in time to catch the yai’yai (field ration) before it beams off your helmet. “Good, thought you were sleeping.”

“Pining, that one.” Vurr’s modulator cracks with a laugh as he unwraps his yai’yai. You wait until he has it unwrapped before quick-drawing your blaster. The low powered round hits the knuckle plate of his shun’bur, knocking the yai’yai from his hand to the floor. The four verda (warriors) all turn to look at you as you holster your blaster.

“Osi’kyr—Vizsla! (Fuck—Vizsla!)” Vurr feigns a scoff, as if he wouldn’t lick the floor clean if no one was around.

“Have the children eaten?” You ask, tilting your head at them. Vurr snatches up his yai’yai and hastily crams it up under his helmet before you can fire off another shot. He says something unintelligible as he waves his gloved hand at you. You watch him head into the great hall to attend to the children. Nearly two hundred children huddled inside the base.

“That man could eat a bantha and not gain a single pound.” Theghti mutters, watching Vurr toss a small child into the air.

“Any word from Paz?” Skajert asks.

“No.” You slip the yai’yai into your pouch and lean back on the crate, propping your boots up on the handle of your Z-6 rotary blaster cannon. Now you contemplate sleep. You’re not sure when the next opportunity might arise.

When Darth Maul defeated your father, claiming the title of Mand'alor with a decapitation that was both brutal and necessary, the universe shifted. Bo’Katan Kryze's refusal to serve Maul led to the splintering of the Kyr'tsad (Death Watch), but you saw the truth. You and Paz chose the old ways, the Way of the Dark, and rallied thousands.

Your heart was steadfast as civil war broke out on Mandalore. Destruction was not chaos; it was the universe's will. Houses, clans, and truces were torn down, and in their place rose something purer. Your father's death was not a loss but a transformation. Paz arranged your marriage to Baaran Lok at seventeen, a union not of love but necessity. Lok wasn't cruel, but distant. The arrangement serves a greater purpose, a testament to the One Truth: "Only power is real, and the only real power is the power to destroy. Existence is fleeting. Destruction is eternal." The arrangement was the very sacrifice of love, and it served you well.

All you can think about is the purpose behind every act, every decision. It is an unavoidable truth… how the Way of the Dark can guide even the most tender moments. You had meant to wish your riduur jate’kara (husband good fortune) before he departed, but his attachment held you back. He clung to you for a long silent moment, helmets pressed together. His chest shook in silent sobs, with the weight of understanding. You both know that violence, destruction, even death—they are but steps in the path to power. It was supposed to have been you on the front lines, but Paz needed certainty that the children would be safe.

“Bi cuyi ner Mand’entye. (It is my debt to carry.)” You whisper the words as verda (warriors) hustle past you on the tarmac. He’s silent for a moment. A million words hang between you and he says the last thing you ever thought he would say.

“Jorso'ran kando a tome. (We shall bear the weight together.)” Lok’s fingers tightened around your neck.

“Ibic jareor. (This is reckless.)” It had been the unspoken truth until you had uttered it.

“Ibic Manda. (This is the way.)” Lok released you and you watched as he walked up the gangway, never looking back. Paz stood at the edge of the cargo hold, his shoulders low as he held your gaze, bearing the weight of your father’s deeds.

“Nayc, cyar’ika (No, sweetheart),” Theghti’s sharp tone startles you awake as he snatches a youngling up. You drop the vibroblade from your shaking hand and flop back against the crate, huffing out an apology. You can’t recall reaching for your blade, it’s reflexive now. ”Never wake a sleeping warrior by hand. Call us, and we shall wake.”

“I am very sorry,”

“What did you need, sweetheart?” Theghti crouches down with the young girl, and you lazily retrieve your blade from the floor, sinking it back into your sheath.

“I wanted to sleep with Nynir so that I am safe.”

The laugh escapes you before you can contain it. You can’t see his expression under his helmet, but you know for certain Theghti is glaring at you. The image of yourself cradling a youngling seems so foreign to you. Your husband had never made an attempt to have children with you. He simply took you to bed once a year just to maintain his duties to you. A divorce would have been scandalous.

Once you’re on your feet, you lock your blaster cannon beside your jetpack and scoop up the youngling, cradling her against your waist. Theghti seems surprised and you’re grateful he keeps the comments to himself. You try to quiet the heavy steps of your magboots as you head into the makeshift barracks.

“Have you been named?” You ask. Of course she has, she’s wearing a helmet, but it’s polite to ask.

“Khiggi Eldar.”

Eldar… You’ll be gentle with this one, or face the wrath of the Eldar House.

“Why do they call you Nynir if it is not your name?”

“The boys…” You hike her up above your utility belt and glance at her, “They like to tease. My gun is big and scary, but when I fire it, it makes a very silly sound. Nee-neer, nee-neer, nee-neer.” You poke her side with a gloved finger and she squeals. “They say my gun speaks as it fires. Do you know what it says?”

“Nynir, (Strike,)” Khiggi giggles and you can’t help but smile.

“My gun only speaks when there is danger. Tell me, Khiggi, what do you hear?”

“I think she is sleeping.”

She. What a blessing this one is.

“Yes, she is sleeping, and you must sleep too.”

“Nynir,” Sath’s whisper stops you in your tracks. She holds her arms out expectantly, leaning up from her cot. You glance at the rows and rows of cots, most with two or three children curled up on them. You pass Khiggi down to Sath, knowing that she is capable of keeping Khiggi contained.

“Jate ca, (good night,)” You clench your fist over your heart and Sath gives you a nod; Her arms are occupied, it will do.

“Jate ca, Nee-neer.” Khiggi manages, before her modulator cracks with a sharp yawn. The other children are all in various states of sleep as you exit the barracks. Theghti offers you a nod, before slipping a pipe under his helmet. The smell of cassius flowers permeates the hangar.

The air is still, and a strangeness quivers in the shadows. As you step outside of the hangar and look up to the night sky, the devastation unfolding on Mandalore becomes clear. Imperial ships loom. There had been no call to alert your base. Your heart pounds with a terrible understanding. Tie bombers drop fusion bombs that bathe the planet in an infernal glow.

The Great Purge of Mandalore does not shock or dismay you; it confirms what you've known all along. Destruction is not merely an end; it's a purification, a necessary culling that makes way for the new. You see in the annihilation of your planet the embodiment of the Dark. Bo-Katan Kryze's refusal to follow the true path, her refusal to join you, was more than a betrayal; it was a sign of her unworthiness to lead. Her obstinacy had brought about the very destruction she sought to prevent. And now, you feel a renewed strength in your convictions, knowing that what has been destroyed will give rise to something more potent, more aligned with the natural order of power and chaos. This is the Way.

A sharp crackle over the comms stills your heart. The line buzzes as the transmission fluctuates. “Ner vod’ika— (My little sister—)” The garbled transmission breaks your attention and you turn away from the sight of Mandalore’s destruction.

“Ori’vod? (Big brother?)” You ask, hustling across the tarmac in hopes of getting into better range of the signal out in the open.

“Tion’vaii gar? (Where are you?)” Paz’s voice comes through loud and clear and you freeze mid stride.

“At the enclave.”

“Vod’ika, I’m not going to make it.” Paz’s words send your heart into your throat and you can hear your pulse start to race in your ears.

“Nayc! (No!) You swore to me!”

“I know.” He whispers, his voice soft, too soft.

“Ba’slan— (Retreat—)”

“Nayc!” You yell, tears welling in your eyes. He wouldn’t dare order you to leave, not unless... “Swear to me, Ori’jag (big guy), that you will make it out and you will find me.” You whisper. Pain grips your chest as you refuse to believe that this is the end for him.

Static washes over the private channel, but his voice comes through crystal clear, “I promise I will find you… Haat, Isaac, haa’it. Ke nadir haar’ke’gyce ba’slan shev’la. Tion’waii mar’eyir—? (Truth, honor, vision. Execute the strategic disappearance. Where will I find [you]—?)” The channel cuts out as a blinding flash of light washes over you. You look around the tarmac that now appears bathed in daylight. The blinding flash strobes in the night sky, a massive explosion on the surface of Mandalore. Sundari, the capital city where all the verda had gathered… It’s blown open. Mangled pieces of the super structures erupt high into the atmosphere.

“Ni pare gar shal ashi eso. (I will wait for you at the other side.)

The brightness of the night sky only grows. You filter through your channels checking your comms to find that they are all empty. Raising your hand to shield from the radiant glow bathing Mandalore you catch sight of a shadow. Footsteps thunder beneath you as you draw your blaster, ready to take out any enemies. Something is off about their trajectory. It’s a verda, wounded, about to crash headlong into the tarmac. You clench your right fist, the gesture activating your jetpack, taking a split second to bring your weight off the tarmac. You give full throttle.

The verda crashes into you and you wrap your arms around him. He at least has his wits enough to cut off his thrusters. Both of you crash down to the tarmac, drawing the attention of Thegti puffing on his pipe inside the hangar.

“Droids—the comms are—we need to…” The verda is barely making sense as you drag him up to his feet. Theghti rushes over, medpack in hands. He has some sort of twisted shrapnel sticking out of his abdomen, but there doesn’t appear to be an exit wound. It’s the sort of wound you only see when heavy ordinances are being used.

“Stims, he’s in shock. Abdominal shrapnel wound.” You mutter and Theghti is quick to pull out his stimpack.

“Talk to me, Vod. What happened?”

“Droids—they’re coming.”

“It’s alright, vod.” Theghti readies the stim and pulls down his cape, sinking the needle tip of the injector into his neck. “Breathe.” The man groans, continuing to ramble on about droids. You and Theghti exchange a look.

“I spoke to Paz, right before this one flew in. He ordered us to retreat off Concordia.”

“The droids are coming. They—the whole base is gone. Everyone is gone. Gone. There were so many—” The sharp plink of your helmets slamming together silences his rambling. You hold his head, staring straight at his visor.

“Everyone is not gone, there are still 200 hundred children that need to be evacuated. What base were you stationed at, vod?”

“Ruus’kan, (Rock fortress,)” The man’s voice was becoming steady as the stim permeated his system.

“Ruus’kan?” Theghti gives you a long stare. If Ruus’kan was under siege, it would mean you wouldn’t have a lot of time to evacuate the children.

“We didn’t stand a chance. They obliterated the base. It’s gone. Gone. It’s a crater—nothing left but the exposed mineshaft.” His words hit like a punch to the gut. Ruus’kan wasn’t under siege, it’s already gone. You didn’t have time to think of what that meant. Not for what was coming, but what had been lost.

“Droids? Ships?” If the Imperial ships shift their target to Concordia, millions more will die.

“A whole brigade of KX enforcer droids. Viper droids. They called in an airstrike. Thousands of droids are heading this way. His name was Paz. He told me to find his sister and evacuate her children. I have to find her.” The man sucks in a ragged breath.

“You found her. You did good.” Theghti says, tilting his helmet toward you.

“I did? I found her?” He scans the hangar before he twists out of your grasp. He catches your shoulder before kissing your helmets together. Theghti raises his hands in shock, reaches for the man but stops when you wave him off. Paz sent this man to you, the least you can do is hear what he has to say. “Paz made me swear on the pain of death that I would protect and take care of you and your children.”

Theghti waves his hand catching your attention as he makes a gesture to suggest that he’s probably a little high on stims. Your hand drags up on instinct, your fingers grasping the back of his neck as you acknowledge his vow, but you don’t get the chance to respond.

“What’s goin’ on, Vod?” Puck calls from the hangar and the man releases you to gaze around the hangar with a heavy head.

“Ba’slan Shev’la.” Your order rings hollow in the hangar and for a moment the other warriors stare at you in disbelief. It was a direct order to escape to a predetermined safe haven. The only issue is that there are only five ships, and over two hundred children hunkered down inside. The vast majority of which had yet to earn the title of Mandalorian Apprentice. Some of whom hadn’t earned their first helmets yet. You release the man and he steps back allowing you to take in the sight of him. “Tell me, Vod. What is your name?”

“Din Djarin, sir.” He says. You don’t recognize either of them as being a formal House or Clan name. He bears no emblem to designate a clan, and still has pieces of armor from his service in the Fighting Corp. Paz wouldn’t have just sent any man to you. He would have picked the strongest of the men to send to you… and he didn’t send Lok.

“I need you to go wake the children. Tell them to file into five equal lines, and board the ships for evacuation. Can you handle that?

“Yes, sir.” Din Djarin nods, and you belt the back of his helmet, sending him sprinting into the hangar.

“A whole brigade…” Theghti whispers, glancing at the other warriors and keeping his voice low. “How far out?” Ten to fifteen thousand droids are heading this way. Even five of the best verda wouldn’t stand a chance. It will be a bloodbath unless you get out right now.

“I don’t know. We need to make haste. The children must be evacuated.” Together, you swiftly organize the evacuation of the children, waking them from their sleep and herding them towards the waiting ships in the hangar.

In the urgency of ushering the children onto your own ship the air shakes around you. It’s a feeling you’ve only felt once before. The thrusters of thousands of droids in flight disturbing the air pressure. It’s a horrifying sensation to feel the air quivering around you, and the children can sense it too.

The heavy landing of a droid just outside the hangar signals the arrival of a formidable foe. You wade through the children to watch as several more KX Enforcer droids drop down from the outcropping above. A lone Viper probe flutters down and turns toward the hangar. A red wave sweeps across the hangar as it scans for available targets. There is no other choice but to protect the ships while the children finish loading.

“Get the ade on the ships, now!” You bark the order at Din Djarin and he rushes back toward the barracks where children are still filing out. The children hasten their steps, the urgency in your voice heightening. Without a second thought you grab your heavy blaster cannon, charging around the gangway, prepared to protect the children with your life. It will give the children precious seconds to board the ships.

The clash is swift and fierce, but you and your fellow Kyr’tsad verda are quickly outnumbered as more enforcer droids land on the tarmac. You make the difficult decision to order a retreat, urging the other verda to make their escape to their waiting ships while you provide covering fire. The ade are far more important than your home, or your own life. Laying down heavy fire will give them a chance to escape. Rounds glance off your armor. Beskar armor might be impenetrable, but the force of each shot sends shocks to your body. You’re struggling to stay upright—out gunned, and outnumbered.

The hangar rumbles as one of the ships full throttles out of the hangar. You watch in disbelief as Skajert’s ship blasts from the hangar, the gangway of his ship still open, children slip out, crashing down to the hangar floor. There is no time to scream as you charge toward the children. Droids turn, taking aim.

As enforcer droids close in, anger rises within you. Your homeworld lay in ruins, your people wiped out in the blink of an eye. Bitter rage, for your friends, your family. Your way of life is being robbed from you, your identity, your husband—your brother.

An all consuming rage surges through your being, empowering you with an otherworldly strength. That strength manifests as your fist connects with the durasteel plating of the Viper probe. It explodes, sending it flying across the hangar, the concussive shockwave taking out four other droids. A ferocious roar tears from your modulator as you bash through three more KX droids. This burst of rage draws the attention away from the children and you raise your arms, deflecting blaster bolts with a terrifying precision.

As blaster rounds ricochet off your armor, pain jolts through your body as several rounds graze soft flesh. Pain transcends sensation, becoming fuel for your rampage through the droids. You bulldoze a path straight to the screaming children

Theghti blasts past you, crashing into two droids, while Din Djarin snatches up the two children. You grab the other two, hugging them to your chest and fire rockets. Rounds whizz past your helmet. Theghti is waiting, grabbing the children from you and rushing back to his ship.

“Hukaat! (Cover me!)” Theghti yells. You whirl around pulling out both your blasters, rapid firing rounds to provide cover as the men retreat with the children. There are too many droids to count and they are swarming the entrance to the hanger.

Summoning your remaining strength, you fight your way back to your ship as the other Death Watch ships begin to launch from the hangar. Blaster fire singes the air around you filling the air with the unmistakable smell of ozone as you retreat. You are a solitary figure standing against an overwhelming force.

With a jerk of your head you signal the ships to leave.

“What are you doing, Nynir? Get the kriff on your ship!” Theghti’s voice cuts in over a private transmission. You glance at Din Djarin firing up your ship. Your holster your blasters, sparks showering around you, and you reach for your heavy blaster cannon.

“This is the way.” You cut off the transmission before Theghti can respond. This is why Paz had you stay. To clear the path for the next generation.

“My orders supersede yours.” Din Djarin’s voice is barely audible over the scream of blaster fire. You glance at the ship, the barrels of your blaster cannon are already starting to glow red hot. Paz swore to you. He swore to you that he would find you. He swore it.

The last of the other ships disappear out of sight. Your own ship is taking heavy fire from the relentless enforcer droids. For a moment, you fear they’ve left without looking back, until a rocket explodes in a blaze of destruction, obliterating several droids.

Seizing the opportunity, you sprint towards your ship, every step weighed down by the encroaching threat. With a surge of adrenaline, you stagger up the side gangway, smashing your palm on the control panel to raise both the side and rear gangways. The children squeeze tight together to get out of your way. Up the ladder and into the cockpit of the Razor Crest. Din Djarin slips into the co-pilot seat, clutching Khiggi Eldar to his chest. Alarms ring on the dashboard as the ship's deflectors rapidly deplete. You demagnetize your back plate, your jetpack and heavy blaster cannon dropping to the floor as you sink into the pilot seat.

There is no avoiding the flood of droids, so you punch the accelerator smashing through their tight formation. Your deflectors fail, but you’re able to make it out of the hangar. The ship struggles to climb, the readouts on your screen flash warnings about weight capacity. There was no time to clear the ship of cargo. You maneuver your ship low through the canyons as you reunite with the other ships waiting for you.

The ships fall into a natural V-5 formation, with Skajert and Puck taking the lead. You cling to the tail end of the fleeing Kyr’tsad verda, your ship weighed down by its cargo and struggling against Concordia's gravity. The radio crackles with the chaotic chatter of the other warriors, their voices filled with urgency as they try to agree on a destination planet.

“Ke'duum koori serim taap. (Let's agree on an exact place.)” Skajert’s voice cuts in on the comms. The sound of his voice makes you sick. He will pay for his cowardice, but not now. Not with the safety of the children at stake.

“How many children made it on board?” You ask, glancing back at Din Djarin. He glances back to the wide open cockpit door. Sath’s purple helmet scans the children piled in the storage room.

“I counted 82 the first time, and 81 the second time.” Sath says. “Oh—Khiggi.”

“I got scared.” Khiggi says sheepishly.

81 children. Five Verda, and a little over two hundred children. Your hand tightens around the throttle, coaxing the ship to climb from the atmosphere. Skajert left in such a hurry, dumping the children in his cowardly escape. You wonder exactly how many children were on the other ships.

“Tion’vaii? (Where?)” Vurr asks, his voice cutting over the comm.

“Tion’Ossus? (Ossus?)” Puck asks, though he doesn’t sound sure.

“Nayc, Dathomir. (No,)” Skajert says.

“Ne’gebi Manda'yaim. (No, too close to Mandalore.)”

Your eyes widen in horror as Puck’s ship explodes, the shockwave jolting your senses as you bank hard, pushing your ship to its limits. The strained engines howl until they fade into an eerie silence as you breach the threshold of space.

“Take her!” Djarin yells, practically throwing Khiggi into Sath’s arms.

The clicks of the missile approach warning system grow to a terrifying scream, warning you of an incoming lock-on. You yank the yoke, executing a tight maneuver to break away from the pursuing enemy. Your voice rings out in the cabin, issuing urgent commands, but the Verda remain divided as blaster fire glances off your ships. Djarin is already on the offensive and returning fire but it’s not enough. The holoview star map whirls, spinning too fast for him to make sense of it. You are being herded, kept in tight formations to prevent you from making the crucial jump into hyperspace.

With calculated precision, you jettison a cargo pod from beneath your ship, watching with grim satisfaction as an enemy vessel vanishes from radar. Leveling out the ship, you push the throttle forward, desperately accelerating, your heart pounding in your chest.

A blinding flash erupts from your starboard side as a direct hit strikes your ship. The scream of children mingles with the acrid smell of smoke. It’s possible that your ship will rip itself apart at light speed, or that your blind jump to hyperspace will vaporize you and the children as you atomize straight through a star. The moment you clear the gravity well of Concordia you level out, punching the throttle forward, forcing the ship to accelerate to light speed. Kriff pre-light checks. You have no choice but to make a quick hop. Undeterred, you activate the hyperdrive, plunging into the unknown.

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #might of mand'alor #reader as paz vizsla's sister #mandalorian fic

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