#i do live for Din admitting that he actually likes Cobb like not even just in a shipping way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

staranon95 · 3 years

Text

DinCobb Week Day 5: Sharing Cultures (SFW)

for @dincobbweek with a wedding!!

@astrangebird drew some fantastic art and i decided to write a piece about it. that’s that. that’s all of it.

AO3 Link

Wait For Me Here

“We should get married,” Din idly said one day when they were in bed, side by side to wait out the worst of the day’s heat.”

“Oh yeah?” Cobb asks. He’s on his stomach, pillowed on his arms. Din knows this without even having to look because he knows Cobb likes sleeping on his front, usually one leg tucked up a bit, sometimes one arm stretched out for Din as if he’s reaching for him in sleep.

“Think about it. We live together.”

“Mm.”

“We cook together.”

“Mmhm.”

“We fight together.”

“Mm.”

“And we have a child together.”

Cobb snorts. “Sharing custody of your child with a Jedi might be putting it a bit generous.”

“There are also the school kids.”

“’cause half the time I have to tell them not to get into shit they shouldn’t.”

“Still.”

“Still,” Cobb says and breathes in. Then he opens his eyes and Din turns on his side to face him. “Marriage, huh?”

“Mmhm. Unless if . . .”

“Unless?”

“I don’t know what marriage customs are like on Tatooine, and the ones I’ve been invited to were Tusken in nature.”

“Well, shoot, partner, I reckon we go just as hard with our wedding flair as them Tuskens do.”

“Is that so?”

Cobb nods tiredly against his arms and closes his eyes. “Two-day affair most of the time. Eat and drink late into the night, sleep a few hours, and then get up in the morning for the breakfast feast. Everyone comes out with everything. Real big community thing as well.”

“I, I might like to see that.”

“What about you Mandalorians though?” Cobb then shifts suddenly, rising up long enough to lie himself across Din’s chest and hold him close with a leg in between Din’s. “I know you’ve . . . I know it’s not easy for you.”

Din sighs. The fallout from the survivors of his clan is still fresh. At least they didn’t strip him of his armour, but he doesn’t think they see him as Mandalorian anymore. He saw to their relocation on Tatooine with Boba Fett’s help, and finally they can live without the fear of being seen or being caught. But they will not accept Din as one of their own, not anymore, not after he gave up the Darksaber, allowed his face to be seen, and nearly broke every Creed he had taken on as a young adult.

“Well, the weddings were mostly, they were short,” Din admits. “Usually it requires an exchange, especially if one member were coming from a different clan.”

“An exchange of what?”

“Equipment. Weapons or armour. I once saw someone approach the Armourer to ask her how to show them to make a knife for their betrothed. It’s meant to be personal to a degree. Either you got this weapon in battle or you’re offering up a piece of yourself, your beskar’gam.”

Cobb hums. “Sounds very official.”

“Marriage is a pact. You raise warriors. You grow the clan. You protect the clan.”

“Mm. I can work with that.”

Din smiles. “You’re a very agreeable partner.”

“I try.”

…

What starts out as a simple comment quickly turns into nearly a town wide event. Neither Din nor Cobb know how the secret got out. They were thinking, originally, a small affair with their closest associates. Boba is even willing to host at his palace, and Din is fine with that. But then word gets out, as it always does, that the Marshal and the Mandalorian are planning to get married, and now here they are, eating breakfast at Werlo’s cantina, getting approached by one of the mothers in town who’s there after dropping her kids off at the school, no doubt, casually talking like Din and Cobb know what’s going on.

“Marshal! Have you decided on a date yet?”

Cobb blinks and looks to Din before looking at the woman. “Excuse me?”

“For the wedding! Gaia said you and the Mandalorian were planning to marry.”

Din chokes on his caf.

“Um, well.” Cobb reaches out to pat Din’s hand. “We were planning a small ceremony.”

“Nonsense! I know you’re both busy men. We can handle all the logistics for you. All you and your fiancé need to do is show up to the day!”

“Well, Lee, thank you for the offer,” Cobb says, and Din can see he’s trying to be polite about it, but Din knows Cobb has a hard time turning down any of the favours the townspeople show him.

“It’s my pleasure, Marshal. It’s been some time since we’ve had cause to celebrate! We’ll be in touch!”

“Yeah, Lee. See you.”

Once she’s gone, Cobb looks to Din, and Din tries to smother his smile behind his hand.

“Hey, this is your town too,” Cobb says.

“I know. I guess a small ceremony is no longer in the works.”

“They were going to find out one way or another.”

…

From how Cobb explained it, Din thought he had a good idea of what entailed a Tatooine wedding from the settler-slave population. Good food, good drinks, good company.

“Have you thought about a house yet?”

Din looks to Jo as he’s elbow deep in a speeder. “What?”

“You know,” she says like Din should know. “A house.”

“Why would I—”

“Oh. You don’t know. Right.” She pops her lips. “It’s a Tatooine thing. ‘specially for freed slaves and poor settlers. It’s a thing of pride to be able to provide a place like a home. I know my dad worked hard to get an apartment for me and my ma while he also worked to get our manumission. Tiny one bedroom place ‘til I moved out here. But he was very proud of that place when he had it. Point is—what are you bringing to the table, Din?”

Din blinks and reaches for a towel to wipe sweat from his brow. “I hadn’t thought of anything.”

“Let me give you the one up ‘cause I know the Marshal won’t be asking’ for it himself.” She slides down from her perch on a workbench to lean over the speeder. “Man needs himself a proper house. And I’m talking a proper house. Most of the buildings here are temporary. They’re not built for long term which is why they require so much maintenance. Houses underground are the way to be. They take a while, sure, but when you’ve got a village.”

He frowns. “I thought that was for raising children.”

“Villages are for everything here, Din. If you want to give him something good, really show you love him, come find me when you’ve got free time. I’m pretty sure I can help you out with that issue.”

She then leaves and Din tries to return to his work at hand, but he’s stuck on the thought of a house. Of building a house for him and Cobb and for Grogu when he and his Jedi visit. Where they can host friends and not feel too crammed in Cobb’s home as it is. Where they can actually bring their lives and interests together in one shared space. A shared unit.

Cobb enters the garage looking like he’s dressed up to head into town, and Din stands to greet him. “Hey, darlin’!” He kisses Din on the cheek. Din wrinkles his nose.

“I’m dirty.”

“We’ve been worse to each other. Now. I’m headin’ into town for a bit. Told Jo to hold down the fort and you’re here for back up.”

Din nods. “You don’t want me coming with you?”

“Baby, I know you don’t like to travel to Mos Eisley. Take it easy. I’ll be back shortly after dinner.”

“Okay.”

He helps Cobb push out his speeder onto the main street of Mos Pelgo and kisses him once more before Cobb pulls his scarf up over his mouth and nose and pulls his goggles down over his eyes and offers Din a two fingered salute and then he’s off.

Din trudges down the street towards where Jo is leaning against the wall of the cantina. “So. A house.”

She nods. “Come on. Let’s talk logistics.”

…

In what they originally wanted to be a quick and short wedding turns into a several month-long affair as Mos Pelgo comes out in spades to support their Marshal and Mandalorian in tying the knot. They plan for food and for drinks. They send out invites to the local Tuskens, who also seem enthused that Din is getting married. They think it a good match, and well, at least Din has their approval.

The building of the Marshal’s new house is quietly under wraps. All Cobb knows is that a new house is being built, but he thinks it for one of the families in town, even comes by to watch Din at work in the staked-out pit, helping to dig down and remove sand until they come to the more compacted ground that they can put stabilizers against and hold in place before they’re pouring the plaster and concrete for the walls.

Whenever Din has a spare moment, he plans with Jo for the interior. A nice open kitchen. A large room for the both of them with an en-suite bathroom. There is not only one guest room but two. One that will largely be Grogu’s when he’s here to stay, and also one for the Jedi if he plans on staying the night. Sometimes he does.

Then there’s the living room, circular in design that could hold a dozen people comfortably, and knowing Cobb, he’ll like the opportunity to entertain more. Din thinks it’s perfect, and he finds as he puts the work into making a home, he realizes he’s looking forward to it not just for Cobb’s promised happiness, but also his own. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually had a proper home like this. Not since Aq Vetina anyway.

“You’re in a good mood,” Cobb says that night when they’re finishing the dishes after dinner.

Din shrugs. “Just happy I guess.”

“Good.” Cobb kisses him quickly on the cheek. “You deserve to be.”

…

One of the next steps for the wedding is the clothes themselves. For Cobb it means he’s getting a robe made for himself. White, flowing fabric with a fancy gold trim around the hems. It’s a standard piece of Tatooine marriages, and Din feels himself sort of bereft that he doesn’t have something similar.

So he plans a visit to Boba’s because they have a shared lineage, and Din can’t exactly walk up to where his old tribe is and ask, “Can any of you help me dress for my wedding? Even though you see me as dar’manda and probably wouldn’t accept my marriage to an outsider?”

Best not to think of it.

He rides with Cobb to the palace, but Cobb isn’t planning on staying.

“I got business in town,” he says. “Might be a while. You okay staying here tonight?”

“Of course.”

“’kay. Kiss.”

He tilts up for Din to lean down and kiss him before waving him off. Then Din heads towards the palace and is let in by the guards.

It’s one of Boba’s work days, meaning he’s not seeing court, which means he’s pouring drinks for him, Fennec, and Din to enjoy. He always serves the strong stuff, which makes Din’s throat burn, but he’s getting used to it.

“So how is it anyway?” Boba asks, reclined on one of the sofa’s where Fennec can press her feet against his thigh.

“Going well,” Din says, keeping his eyes on the dark liquor in his glass. “The house is coming along.”

“You still haven’t told him yet?” Fennec asks.

Din shakes his head. “I want to keep it a surprise for him.”

“Sounds like you got it bad.”

“And you don’t?”

Fennec chuckles and Boba smiles amusedly.

“Fennec’s not exactly my queen here,” Boba says.

“That’s right. I’m an empress.”

“Still. A house sounds like a good idea. Putting down roots. Settling in.”

“It’s about time,” Din says, taking a sip. He smacks his lips. “But it’s getting close to the day and . . . the seamstress offered to tailor me something, but I was hoping for something more—”

“Familiar?” Boba offers. Din nods.

“I think you can help with that,” Fennec says. “Despite what he might say, Boba’s become a real fashion snob.”

“It’s not fashion when you have to wear it to impress people who won’t take you seriously otherwise. The battle armour doesn’t always work.”

“Sure,” she says. “We’ll go with that.”

“I’ll see what I got.”

They eventually move to Boba and Fennec’s shared private quarters where Din can examine the clothing in front of a mirror.

“If you’re looking for something more Mandalorian,” Boba says from within his closet. “I’d suggest the lavalava. Especially if you’re aiming for tradition.”

“Bring out the blue one if you have it,” Fennec says.

Boba returns holding what Din first sees as a skirt, but recognizes the design of it when he was first living in the Fighting Corps’ barracks as a child. It’s meant to be a more formal piece of Mandalorian wear for more casual settings if one didn’t want to dress up in full battle armour. It’s meant to just sit on the hips.

Boba gets him to try it on right there. “You’d probably just wear a light pair of leggings underneath,” he says.

“Oh, and then,” Fennec says, rising to her feet and entering the closet. She returns with a lighter blue cloak and a red sash. “Tie it off with this sash here.” She wraps it around his waist. “And then the cloak like this.” She lets it sit on one shoulder and brings the two ends together to pin at his other shoulder. “You know, I might have a broach that could fit this. Din, hold this for me. I’ll be right back.”

He does as he’s told and looks at himself in the mirror.

“Not bad,” Boba says. “Colour suits you.”

Din turns a bit to admire himself in the mirror. He looks at Boba in the reflection and asks, with his stomach fluttering, “Have you spoken to the clan?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Last week I think.”

Din hums.

“They’ve settled in just fine. Getting along with the Tuskens just fine, but seems like they got more in common than they do the settlers.”

Din nods. “I had a feeling they would.”

“Have you . . .”

“Not since they relocated.”

Boba hums.

“Here we go,” Fennec says, coming back into the room with a silver brooch—in the shape of a Mythosaur skull.

“I didn’t know you had that, cyar,” Boba says.

“It was a gift from a long time ago. Guy who gave it to me certainly wasn’t Mandalorian, but I think it’s best to return it to someone it should actually belong to.” She fixes the brooch to the cloak and then turns Din to face the mirror directly. “There. Now you look ready to get married.”

Din runs his fingers through his hair. He might want to get it cut before the wedding, but he knows Cobb likes it when it’s longer and it holds its waves more. He should at least shave. The uneven scruff on his jaw isn’t all that appealing to himself.

“Stars, it’s going to be a mad house on the day of,” Boba says. “Seems like we’ll have to bring the good stuff, Fennec.”

“You’re telling me.”

…

In the days leading up to the wedding, Din sees to the final touches of the house, ensuring the furniture is in place with room for more when they make the final move. He plans on surprising Cobb that day.

They have a good celebration the night before at the cantina, drinks on the house, and then, in Tatooine fashion, the couple are separated the night before. Din is headed off by Boba and Fennec to Din’s new house, and Cobb is dragged away by his deputy Jo to his house.

“Rest up, vod,” Boba says. “You got a long day ahead of you.”

The next morning, Fennec helps him get ready for the day, making sure his hair is just right, and the cloak is sitting on his shoulders just so. Boba is there in his armour, and Din feels a sour note in his stomach that he’s not wearing any of his. He wouldn’t feel right after his expulsion from the clan.

“You still want the Mandalorian vows?” Boba asks.

Din nods. “If you can.”

“I’d be honored, vod.��

And then he’s led out with his friends on either side of him down the main street with everyone and then some—Tuskens, out of town friends, some of Boba’s closer associates—have come out in full force down the street as it’s been fully decorated for the day.

The ceremony itself is held at one end of the town where an arch of bone from bantha horns has been carved as a gift from the Tuskens. And that’s when Din sees him—Cobb, dressed in white with gold trim and with the hood up over his head, a red sash at his waist as if to match Din’s without even knowing. His back remains turned as Din walks up the aisle towards the arch and then he’s standing next to Cobb, shoulder to shoulder, with Cobb’s lifelong friend and impromptu wedding officiator Issa-Or standing before them. Din keeps his eyes forward for now, waiting for the right moment to face his soon-to-be husband head on.

“Now, I know ya’ll have come out and taken time off of your busy schedules,” Issa-Or says. “And we don’t have much time to dilly-dally like they did in the nicer districts in Mos Eisley and the rest. Time wasn’t a luxury for people like us, so we had to make do. Which is why we’re here to see that Cobb Vanth, Marshal here in Mos Pelgo, spends the rest of his days married to none other than a Mandalorian! Someone he chose to let into his life, his home, and share the rest of his time in this mortal coil with.”

Din feels himself blushing, feels a smile breaking out over his face.

“Cobb?”

He sees Cobb lift his head.

“Why don’t you take a look at your man?”

He feels Cobb reach for his hand and Din gently turns with a little prodding. And as he turns, he sees Cobb pushing back his hood, and Din feels as if he could cry at the sight of him.

He sees Cobb’s lower lip tremble before he smiles, as bright as Tatooine’s suns themselves. “Din.” Cobb lifts Din’s hand and holds it between both of his own. Then Cobb laughs despite himself. “First time I’ve been without words in a while.”

There are a few laughs among the crowd.

“Darling, my love. First day I laid eyes on you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. And I am a richer man for having you. Even if I don’t got much but my name and my reputation and the good will of the people before us, I hope to give you everything you could ever need.” Then he raises Din’s hand and kisses the back of it tenderly.

“At this point, we’d say a done deal and have a feast,” Issa-Or says. “But as it is, Din is a Mandalorian, and we want to respect that part of him, so he comes with his own vows.”

She steps aside to let Boba come up.

“If you’ll both repeat after me,” he says. “We are one together.”

“Mhi solus tome,” Din says, quietly, only enough for Cobb and Boba to really hear.

He watches Cobb smiles, the pink curl of his tongue before he’s repeating in Basic. “We are one together.

“We are one when parted.”

“Mhi solus dhar’tome.”

“We are one when parted.”

“We share all.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“We share all.”

“We shall raise warriors.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“We shall raise warriors.”

“Oya, vod,” Boba mutters.

And Din finds himself feeling bashful, and that’s when Cobb pulls him closer by his hands.

“Now I consider that we’re well and truly hitched now,” he says, and Din rushes in to cup his face and kiss his riduur in front of an adoring and loving crowd.

…

The rest of the day is pretty much a blur of being at Cobb’s side, being dragged away from Cobb, of Cobb being dragged away from him. Dance until his feet ache and he’s dizzy. More food than he’s used to. More drinks than he can tolerate, and falling asleep in a tent when he’s imbued too much with a pink cheeked Cobb next to him.

A few hours of sleep later and they’re back at it again for a more restful filled breakfast and relaxed conversation before finally, the festivities are over and people begin to head back to their business.

“Do you want to go home?” Din asks.

Cobb stretches and yawns, looking exhausted but content with his station in life. “You have read my mind.”

They walk down the street together, their clothes in a state of disarray before Din is leading him elsewhere.

“Babe, where . . .” Then it dawns on him and Din can’t help but smile. “No,” he says.

Din nods. “Come on. Let me show you to our home.”

Cobb is speechless when they enter the new partially buried house. He’s taken by how large it is, how high the ceilings are now, and how cool and inviting it is. Then he rushes forward to kiss Din and hold him close. “Oh, you are full of surprises.”

“Jo told me it’s a custom.”

“Well, not always a custom, but we pride ourselves on being able to provide.”

“Then let me provide for you.”

They kiss again, deeper this time until Cobb pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “Mm. As much as I’d like to christen this place, I’m bushwhacked.” Then he’s pulling Din into the bedroom where they collapse onto the bed as husbands, as riduurs.

…

“Hey, Din. You awake?”

Din stretches out on the bed and opens weary eyes to find Cobb kneeling on the ground next to the bed.

“What time’s it?” he asks.

“Afternoon-ish. Just went out to get some things from the old place, and, um, I guess now is as good a time as any to give this to you.” He sets a bundle of cloth knotted off with string on the bed before Din, and Din rises up on one elbow to look at it.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Din says, tugging at the strings.

“Yeah, well.” Cobb rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his. “I felt like I had to for this one.”

In the cloth is an ornate dagger with its own leather sheath. When Din pulls the blade, he’s mesmerized with how the blade shimmers. A single piece that looks like it’s been carved from onyx.

“Cobb, I—” Then he sees the mark in the hilt of it.

The mark of his tribe. The Mythosaur skull. On the other side is the mark of the mudhorn.

He looks up to Cobb. “Where did you get this?”

“Well, I, I went to your clan.”

Din breathes out and sits up in full with the dagger in his lap. Cobb comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“When you told me about your customs, and seeing your armour just sitting in our wardrobe for months, I wanted, I wanted to confront your clan. I know things are rocky between you and them, but I went in there to just speak with them at first. Then next thing I know, I’m sitting on the ground drinking tea with your matriarch.”

Din closes his eyes for a moment.

“And I don’t tell her everything, I don’t ream her out or nothing. I know you hold her in high regard. But I told her I was intending on marrying you and I wanted to do it right by you. No one else. So, she said she’d show me how to make something. And each time I visited, she’d ask about you and I’d tell her that, oh, you were a guest speaker in the school today, or you had fixed the power generators. And she’d tell me my smithy skills were shit and tell me to begin again.”

Din laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“Then she asked me why I wanted to marry you. And I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my days making you happy, giving you everything you could ever need. And she said, he deserves it.”

He lifts his head to look at Cobb. “She said that?”

Cobb nods. “I think she misses you. She won’t say it, but she does. I think it’s just taking some time for her and some of the others to come around to this new world order of theirs. But next time I go, I want you to come with me.”

Din nods. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kisses Cobb several times and holds him close with the knife on the bed spread next to him.

They don’t plan the trip out to Din’s clan for some weeks yet. They have a house to settle into after all. But then one day, they’re setting out on Cobb’s speeder. This time Din is wearing his armour with the knife at his hip. And this time they are facing Din’s clan together as one.

#dincobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #mandalorian #dincobbweek #dincobbweek2021 #dincobb week #star speaks #star writes

56 notes · View notes

hoodedguitarist · 3 years

Text

Think you can Hide from Me? Part 3

Once again, Gif aint mine I just REALLY LOVE IT. It’s one of my favorite scenes of him.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Summary: You infiltrated, the plan fell into chaos, Boba is mad at you, you’re catching feels, lots of time skips and some ANGST.

Warnings? None... Really not yet at least. Slight DinxReader if you squint. This just got a lot more feelsy and I got a whole lot more invested in this than I expected to. Which honestly seems to happen a lot to me. NO SHAME.

I really want to thank everyone who has liked, favorited, reblogged, and followed! You’re all amazing and make me feel amazing too. It means a lot to me that everyone is enjoying my writing. My inbox is open and I’ll even make a Tag List if anyone is interested!

Part 1: The Infiltrator

Part 2: The Distraction

Part 4: The Reunion

Part 3: The Regret

You should have known that plan was going to go off the rails. What you didn’t know, however, was that Boba was going to end up being a casualty of it all as well, and by complete accident.

Sure, you’d been caught with the others, sure you’d been sentenced to death with the others… And oh yes Boba was pissed… Very pissed. You didn’t need to see his face to tell that he was because instead of riding in the barge, he was there to personally bind you and hold you on the way to the Sarlaac pit.

Standing next to Han and Luke was going to make this conversation very awkward, but it needed to be said.

“Ok… So you’re mad at me, right?” You said out loud. Both of them glanced over at you, but you felt Boba’s hand tighten around your shoulder and yank you backwards into him. “Ah!”

“Mad is an understatement, sweetheart,” his modulated voice hissed.

“Ok, that’s fair… I’m sorry I lied to you about the whole work thing. Really, I am.”

“Uh… (Y/N)?” Han questioned.

“Stay out of it Han,” you snapped quickly. “You too, Luke. Mind your business, both of you.”

The two backed off and tried their best not to pay attention to whatever you could possibly be talking about with the bounty hunter, someone they considered an enemy.

“Was fucking me a distraction too?” Boba growled. Now the boys were really trying not to pay attention.

“No, actually, that part was real,” you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. “I was telling the truth when I said I’d wanted to do that ever since I saw you, and still do, if you’ll have me.”

“I think that was your last roll in the sheets, princess. If you manage to make it out of this alive somehow, I’ll know and I’ll find you,” he threatened.

“Hm, sounds fun,” you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. “If you make it out of this alive, I’ll come back and find you too. Do we have a deal?”

Boba scoffed and you figured he felt pretty confident that this was it and you were going to die some horrible death inside the belly of this beast.

“Deal,” he finally answered.

Han and Luke both cut their eyes over at you and you shrugged. “I told you two to mind your own business.”

~*~

Things had happened so fast. One minute you were about to be shoved into the pit, the next Luke is jumping around doing Jedi stuff and mildly impressing you. You didn’t have time to admire, though, because you were struggling with one of Jabba’s guards while Han and Chewie were getting into it with Boba.

Somehow, you were trying to manage not getting killed but also trying to watch Han’s back because he was still blind, and now Chewie who had been shot… But also Boba because you really didn’t want him dying on you either. It was a weird situation all around.

You struggled with the guard and managed to land a hit, but then a blaster fired out of nowhere and hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards and into the pit. You were startled and turned to look where the shot came from, and sure enough you saw Boba’s blaster smoking. Your heart jumped into your throat and he simply nodded to you… Until he turned his sights on Luke.

You heard Chewie howl something out, heard Han get jumpy.

“Boba Fett?? Where??” He whipped around and smacked the bounty hunter right in his jetpack, which malfunctioned and sent him flying.

“Han what the hell??” You yelled over the chaos.

“I didn’t know he was right there! I can’t see!” He yelled back. You looked over the railing rather desperately, just in time to see the bounty hunter roll into the Sarlaac pit.

Well… That was a damn shame...

~*~

Five years had passed, and the Empire was defeated. Ghosts and whispers still lingered, but the Rebellion no longer needed you. It was now the New Republic and you didn’t really have any interest in politics. You said your goodbyes to your friends, the true heroes, and went back to being on your own.

You weren’t on your own for long, however, seeing as how you got caught up in chaos with another Mandalorian. This one was different, however. He had a kid with him. You didn’t mind babysitting during the really dangerous stuff but at the same time you sort of missed the chaos. After a while, the kid wanted to be everywhere his dad was so you were able to tag along.

Being with them led you back to Tatooine, to a small place known as Mos Pelgo. You wanted to help Din get the kid back with his own kind and when they spoke of another Mandalorian in Mos Pelgo, you couldn’t help it as your heart jumped and your hopes spiked…

Especially when a ghost appeared in the doorway wearing Boba Fett’s armor.

You tensed beside Din, and he glanced at you briefly.

“Boba…?” You questioned carefully, letting your eyes run down the person in front of you. He was tall, much more thin. There was no way…

“ ‘Fraid not, darlin’,” the ghost answered.

First, you felt the icy cold stab of regret and loss all over again, then you felt the heat of anger bloom in you. Both you and Din were ready to throw down with the Marshal for entirely different reasons.

“Take it off,” Din ordered.

“Or I will,” your voice was a low warning, surprising all parties involved.

“I think I wouldn’t mind that,” the ghost now known as Cobb Vanth smirked at you.

“Yeah you say that now until you’ve got a knife in your back. Where the hell did you get that? And don’t say Jawas. That armor belonged to someone. Someone I knew!” You snapped.

“I don’t know what to tell you, honey. Anything else would be a lie. I did get it from the Jawas.”

A growl slipped your lips and you took a step forward, but Din grabbed you first. In the end, everything worked out in your favor. Cobb gave up the armor in exchange for help against the Dragon that plagued Mos Pelgo. When the two of you and the child were back safely on the Razor Crest, there were several times when Din would catch you gazing at the old armor, running your fingers across it, leaning your head against the empty helm.

He even thought he saw tears…

Finally, one night, he managed to carefully edge the story out of you. It was a little difficult, but you managed well enough.

“It was just supposed to be a fling, you know? No strings attached, just to say I did it. But there was just something about him, something else that drew me to him. I wanted him to live, I tried to protect him but so many things happened that day, and so many things went wrong way too quickly…” Your voice caught in your throat, but you laughed despite yourself. “I ended up catching feelings for this fucking bounty hunter after he supposedly died.”

“It’s possible those feelings grew from guilt,” Din said calmly. “Thank you for telling me and trusting me with this. I’m sorry this is bringing you so much pain.”

“Oh they most definitely grew from guilt, but then when I saw his armor, hope grew. He had to have come out of it. He’s got to be somewhere, I just don’t know where… And I don’t know if he’ll kill me on sight, so you might want to get ready for that too.”

“(Y/N) when are we not almost killed on sight?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice, and it made you smile. “I think we can manage,” he assured you.

“Yeah… Let’s hope…”

~*~

Seeing the armor hit you hard, but being on top of that mountain with Din and Grogu and seeing Slave 1 come out of the atmosphere and into the sky really did a number on you.

“Oh shit… Oh shit…” You muttered.

“What? Who is that?” Din looked over at you.

“I… I don’t know. It used to be Boba’s ship but there’s no damn telling now. I haven’t seen that thing in years. Somebody could have scavenged it or something.”

“Well we need to figure it out, come on,” he waved for you to follow, and you did so, trying your best not to seem too eager.

Unfortunately, that eagerness faded with the blaster fire, and the both of you took cover behind a rock.

“I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.”

That voice… It made your heart thunder in your chest. Masked by a modulator or not, you could tell it was him. You tensed and Din noticed. He looked over at you and you looked at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You gave a quick nod.

“It’s him… It’s Boba…”

“So not a Jedi… Great,” he whispered. The both of you eased out from behind the rock and you got your first good look at him. He was dressed in black robes, the hood thrown over his head, weapons strapped to his back.

“Boba??” You couldn’t stop yourself as you called out to him. He reached up and pushed his hood back, revealing a scarred face. It did nothing to deter you, however. He was older, but you were still just as attracted to him as you had been years ago. He stepped forward and moved closer, his eyes never leaving your face. It made you a little nervous. “If you’re going to kill me then ok, just do it, but I want you to know that I’m sorry first,” you said quickly holding your hands up. “I’m sorry for what happened that day.”

“Surprised to see me alive?” It was a simple question. No dark tone or anger.

“Relieved is more like,” you admitted. “I looked for you, for any sign of you after the war was over, but I never found anything. I knew somehow, though. I knew you’d survived, but I didn’t know if you’d want to kill me or not.”

“You know me well enough, girl. If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done it right after I crawled out of that pit,” his eyes roved down you and you felt that old familiar rush, that feeling of playing with fire again. “It’s good to see you, princess, and we’ll talk later. For now, we need to talk about my armor that your man made off with.”

@pinkiemme @chadillacboseman If you need me I’ll be in the trash compactor thanks.

109 notes · View notes

theboredwritertm · 3 years

Note

hi if you write smut.... maybe mando being the reader’s first time?? if not, ignore this :))

Innuendo

A/N: I’m going to admit this was the first request I received (ever) for The Mandalorian and it’s been gathering dust for the past couple of weeks (because I’m a simp for Cobb Vanth apparently??) Anyway, so sorry it’s taken this long, anon. I haven’t written this kind of thing before, but always love the chance to try new subject matter. Thanks for sending it through! I’ll admit this piece felt kind of clunky as I was writing it, but since I’m (sorta) sticking to a posting schedule now, I just wanted to get it done. And apparently, I can’t write something without backstory, so it got a little long!

Rating: 18+ for adult situations

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: Awful jokes and innuendos, awkwardness, a clueless Din, probably swearing, consensual sex, loss of virginity

Word Count: 5930 (Once again, consider the first 3000 words terrible foreplay)

Summary: After putting up with months of your supposedly-unintentional innuendos, Din finally takes charge…only to find out things aren’t quite what he expected.

He’d picked you up like a Bantha tick and hadn’t been able to shake you since.

You’d managed to argue your way into a semi-permanent position onboard the Crest after what he would call a rescue, but what you still stubbornly referred to as an ‘assisted retreat’, and it didn’t look like you planned on leaving any time soon.

So, he was stuck with you. At least that’s how he liked to think of the situation.

Never mind that it was nice to have someone to come back to after a long mission that could actually talk back to him. Or that you kept the ship neat and tidy. Or that you were practically a live-in babysitter for the little one at this point. Not to mention the way you always managed to throw together decent meals for the three of you that didn’t always come out of a pack – and that you seemed to enjoy doing so.

And never mind that he liked listening to your soft, happy hums as you stirred together whatever ingredients you had managed to pull together, and that he’d stand in the doorway, silent as a shadow as he took this in, thinking to himself that if a Bantha was half as lucky to pick up a tick like you, it could do much worse for itself.

But what really got to him were the jokes.

You weren’t what he would consider shy, not since you seemed to have no problem at all talking back to him when he had grown so used to others shrinking back at the mere sight of him – still, he hadn’t been expecting the first comment that had just sort of slipped out of you after a few weeks of being in each other’s company. By that point you were comfortable enough to throw the odd sarcastic quip around at each other without having to worry about someone getting offended, so that’s what he had decided to take it as: a joke. At least, the first time.

Since the Crest was prone to the odd malfunction, given its age and what he guessed to be a few too many battles before it was decommissioned, it hadn’t surprised him to walk into a cockpit full of smoke one day. What had surprised him was the way you had stepped into the room, taken one look around as you waved the smoke from your face, and said, “Is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

He’d taken it as he thought he should. A bad joke. You were prone to them as he had come to find, and there’d been plenty of times that he’d heard you use the same kind of lines on people you needed something from. In his case, he guessed that something was shelter and a place to lay low for a while. And he had obliged.

The second time wasn’t as bad. It was worse. Terrible, even. He had no idea what you’d been going for, but as he’d approached the ship after a particularly grueling job and found you standing on the ramp, one foot balanced on a crate and look of mock-seduction, you’d cocked an eyebrow and greeted him with, “Hey, handsome. Looking for a ride?”

His response? A semi-confused, completely weary, “It’s my ship,” as he’d passed you by.

The third time he thought maybe he’d just taken it the wrong way.

You’d been discussing his work, how long it had been between jobs, and how you were both getting a little light on credits. You’d shaken your head, lounging sideways in the co-pilot seat in a way that always looked uncomfortable to him, but seemed just fine to you, when you’d said, “I don’t get it. There’s got to be work out there somewhere.” Then you’d paused for a moment before adding, “If I looked hard enough, I’m sure I could find a few openings for you to fill.” He had frowned and glanced over, certain he’d caught the passing ghost of a smirk on your lips before you resumed looking completely innocent, as if you were simply pondering the tricky predicament you found yourselves in.

Then there was the touching.

At first, he’d found excuses to move out of your reach, an attempt to make his knee-jerk reaction to shrug you off look less obvious. Then one day he’d exercised some restraint as you’d popped a warm, friendly hand on his thigh before getting up from the co-pilot’s seat, announcing you were ready for bed, and he’d realized…he kind of liked it. What, to you, (he was sure) was just fleeting, friendly touches – something ordinary and human he had been deprived of growing up – started to become something he would linger on for hours, sometimes days afterwards. There was something frustrating in the way you could make something that felt so intimate to him look so casual to you.

Another time, more recently, was probably the worst of the lot – but only because of the effect it’d had on him.

During the last stop-off, you’d both been standing in the holding bay surveying the handful of acquisitions he had stored in carbonite. Work had finally picked up, and you’d proven surprisingly helpful in acquiring them, but in that particular instance, there had been a slight problem – two of them were destined for the same planet, but the cities were in complete opposite directions. The timeframes to meet the employers would never have allowed him to make both trips. So, you’d stepped up, placing a hand on his arm as you’d surveyed the captives and said, “Look, I’ve never been much of a delivery person, but I’m more than happy to handle your package for you, just this once.” He’d stared at you, glancing down briefly at the hand on his armor, then up at your smile. “What do you say?” you’d asked, eyes never leaving his visor.

It had taken a troubling amount of self-control not to close up the ramp and show you just how okay with that proposition he was. Because it had been a long time since he’d last gotten the chance. He’d blame the dry spell on the kid, on new responsibilities that hadn’t been there before, but it had been like this for well-over a year, way before the Child had even come into his life. Gone were the days of his youth where he could pick someone out of a bustling cantina crowd and lead them off silently to some grimy bathroom or backroom for a quick fuck – them, for the thrill of being with one of his kind, and him, out of sheer physical need. He’d made peace with the fact that those days were behind him (and considering the state of some of those bathrooms – and some of the partners – it was probably for the best). But that didn’t mean that the need went away. And then there was you.

You, with your perfect skin and the glow of youth still about you. Your long, shiny hair that always made his fingers twitch with need to reach out and run them through it. Your (cute) annoying laugh, and the way you would crinkle up your nose as you found something he’d said particularly funny for some reason he could never figure out (him, fumbling with switches from the pilot’s seat as he attempted to focus, ignoring the smile prickling at his own mouth as the sweet sound of your giggling flipped the doofus switch in his brain). You with the form-fitting pants you sometimes wore when a mission called for something you could move easily in, ones that made his own pants feel a little more form fitting when he stared for long enough to let his mind wander.

You and your damn jokes.

In the end, much to his surprise, it wasn’t a joke that had finally sent him over the edge. It was a simple word, and this time you actually had context to back you up, to assure him that it wasn’t you just fucking with him. Given the situation, it absolutely shouldn’t have had the effect on him that it did. But it had triggered something in him that even he didn’t know he was into.

The kid had been seated in his usual spot, in the seat behind Din’s, when you’d walked in and spotted his big eyes beginning to droop. You had developed a routine with him now – dinner, a bit of bonding time with Din in the cockpit, then bed – and so far, it had seemed to work well for the little guy. You were new to the whole childcare thing, but it made it easier for you to know where punishment and reward was warranted – especially since you were terrible at telling him off. One look at his little face and all wrongdoings were forgotten, something Din never seemed particularly impressed with (even if he was just as guilty of it as you were).

You approached the seat, reaching down to scoop up the sleepy bundle, and pulled him close.

“Come on, little one. Let’s leave daddy to his thing. Time for bed.”

As you turned and headed for the steps leading down to his cot, you failed to notice the way Din had stiffened in his seat. He turned his head to watch you go, eyes dropping down to linger on your ass as the word replayed in his mind. Then he turned back to the flight console, hand lingering over it in a split-moment of indecision, before he flicked on auto-pilot and got to his feet.

Enough was enough.

You had absolutely been fucking with him.

The first time it had just sort of slipped out, you’ll admit. After years of dealing with the Guild, which what was honestly a bit of a boys’ club, you’d developed the shitty flirting as a reflex to seem more at ease with whoever you were working with (and, okay, sometimes it got you better jobs, too. So what?) But after catching Din’s initial reaction (back when you knew him solely as the strong, silent Mando) you knew it was a thread you had to tug at. And tug at it, you had, just to see the man unravel.

You knew the risks, knew the Mandalorian’s reputation, but part of you had wondered how far you could take it…how far you wanted it to go.

You were about to find out.

As you pressed the button to close up the baby’s metal capsule, smiling as you caught one last glimpse of his sleeping form, you turned to find yourself face-to-helmet with the man himself. Even without seeing his face, there was still an intensity to the way he was looking at you, how he leaned in until you have no choice but to back yourself up against the cold steel of the wall.

“This needs to stop,” he says, tone full of warning. Though you could have sworn there was a touch of something else to his voice. You want to say it sounds like desperation, but that feels a little self-indulgent, even for you.

“I’m sorry. Did you want to put the kid to bed? I just thought—”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

His hand comes up to rest beside you on the wall, as he leans in closer, effectively boxing you in.

Oh, boy.

You wonder if this is the same technique he uses on people he’s trying to get information from and if it should be having this effect on you. You’re almost certain it’s fear that you should be feeling, not, uh, this. You clear your throat and look up at him, wracking your brain for what you’ve done or said in the last ten minutes to warrant this kind of reaction from him, especially given the more obvious attempts to rile him up over the past couple of months. You’d picked up the kid, same as you did every other night. Maybe it was the way you’d bent over to do it. You glance down briefly at your clothes, but it’s not a particularly revealing outfit. You’d worn much less in front of him before with far less reaction. Maybe it was something you’d said?

Come on, little one. Let’s leave daddy to-

Oh.

The word leaves your mouth as a soft question intended mainly for yourself, a thought given voice. Din stiffens immediately, across from you. You look up at him, realizing at the same time he does that you’ve caught on.

“Wait, really? Is that what this abou—?”

His other hand comes up towards your throat, and for a moment you think he’s going to choke you (and you’re a little concerned that the feeling you get from that thought still isn’t fear) but his touch is gentle. His hand comes to rest on the side of your neck, thumb against your cheek as he looks at you for a moment before his voice comes through once more.

“Say it again.”

You keep your gaze trained on his visor, where you’re sure his eyes are currently burning into you, and feel heat flooding in opposite directions in your body; up to your face, and down between your legs. And you feel ridiculous. You had never been into that kind of thing before, and you feel silly saying it; but if there’s one thing you are into, it’s the big guy in front of you – the one telling you to say this one little word, just for him – and having him this close talking to you like this, well it might just be worth the humiliation. Hell, maybe that’s something you’re into, as well.

“Daddy?”

The hand on the wall next to you pulls back as he growls, and slams forward fast enough to make you jump, smacking against the light switch, bathing you both in sudden darkness. You feel him lean in closer, certain that if you were to move your head even slightly forward it would come into contact with the cold beskar of his helmet.

“Do you want this?” his voice, gravelly with lust, sounds through the modulator, as the hand on your neck begins to slide downwards.

Shit.

Even if you had wanted to say no before – you hadn’t – you’re sure the low rumble in his tone would have changed your mind. You’d never heard him keyed up like this before. He always had a way of keeping it together, of staying in control, but you’d been messing with him for so long, teasing, casually throwing your innuendos around, knowing exactly what you were doing to him. You don’t know why you feel so surprised that it’s finally come down to this. It was kind of like a daydream, a fantasy finally coming true, and you feel completely unprepared.

“I do, Din, seriously, but, uh, there’s just—”

“What is it?”

You wonder how you’re going to break it to him. Honestly, you feel like a fucking fraud after everything you’ve put him through. You feel like you’ve been leading him on. You sigh and duck your head as you make your confession.

“I’ve never done this before.”

You don’t know how to explain it, but you feel him suddenly deflate, as if the tension in the room has been replaced with something akin to disappointment.

“You’re joking?” And for once, you’re not.

He doesn’t mean for the words to come out the way they do, and even though he can’t say he’s any less turned on by this revelation he knows there are implications there that can’t be ignored if he wants to keep going. Only, right now, he’s not feeling very patient.

You wince at the level of exasperation in his tone. “No.”

There’s silence for a moment and you have to reach out to feel that he’s still there, your hand landing on his chest plate. His hand comes up to rest on top of yours, and you think that maybe its to pull it away, that the lights will come back on at any moment and this opportunity will disappear forever, but he holds it there, thinking things over.

“How much experience do you have? Any?”

There’s a change to his tone, now. He sounds curious.

“Yeah, I mean I’ve…”

Why does this feel so fucking awkward suddenly? You’ve spent the last six months in this man’s daily company, and while that might not seem like a lot of time in terms of getting to know a person, a majority of that was spent in the confined space of the Crest. You know each other’s routines now; all the little habits and pet peeves you can only pick up on when living in close quarters with someone else. You know he likes silence at meal times, but that he’s more open to conversation after time away on a job, and you’ve come to be able to tell just from his posture if that job had gone well. You know some of each other’s history – him mostly learning yours, since you’re by far the chattier person – yet, still, your face is hot with embarrassment as you recall the handful of experiences you’ve had. You’d never talked about this kind of stuff. You’d only ever joked about it.

“You know, like, mouth stuff.”

“Mouth stuff?” he repeats, and you swear there’s laughter in his voice when he says it.

Your face is beginning to feel unbearably hot, and you’re sure that if he decided to read your heat signature right now your skin would look like you’d just spent a week straight wandering the Tatooine desert.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“Hm,” he replies thoughtfully, like he does and that maybe he’s picturing it, “What else?”

“Hand—”

“Hand stuff?” he cuts you off, undeniably making fun of you now.

You smack him in the chest plate, only managing to send a sting through your hand in the process, then push forward as if to move past him, like you think you could make your way anywhere in this darkness. “You know what? Maybe I don’t want this, after all.”

It’s a blatant lie, but you’re starting to think maybe humiliation’s not your thing after all.

He stops you and you don’t resist. You’d been wanting this pretty much from day one, back when he’d assisted with your retreat after a hunt had gone sideways – from the moment you’d watched him swagger into the cantina and stand calmly between you and the half-dozen armed men who were protecting their wanted leader. Back when you’d been just a young, fellow hunter in need of aid.

“Tell me what you want,” he asks you now.

You think about it for all of two seconds. “I want y—This. I want this.” You stumble over what is almost too much of a confession. It feels too soon to tell heavy truths like that, so you settle for what you already know he’s offering. “Just…go easy.”

There’s a silence that seems to drag out in the darkness, then a hiss as he removes his helmet. You feel his body move closer to yours, and you swear that’s his hair brushing your cheek as he leans in and says, “I can do that.”

He scoops you up without warning, reminding of how quick and strong he can be even when he’s weighed down by all that armor, and you find you can’t help yourself as you say:

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

Without the helmet, his sigh meets your skin as a warm huff across your face.

“Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” you reply without hesitation, feeling him still beneath you.

“No more jokes. Please.”

You laugh at the exasperation in his voice and find yourself caught completely off guard when you hear a huff of breath escape him that might have passed for laughter, too, but before you can say anything you find yourself being whisked away towards what you assume is the small space of his sleeping quarters. He seems to know his way well enough to not bump into anything along the way, but even so you hug yourself in tight to avoid any knocks to the head. You look up as a door rasps open in front of you and you can only barely make out the outline of the bed. Din is quick to place you down on it before he drops his helmet to the floor and starts tugging off his armor, placing it somewhere nearby. You sit on the edge of the mattress staring awkwardly into the darkness, knowing you should probably start undressing, too, but suddenly feeling self-conscious despite the pitch darkness that surrounds you.

“Do you want me to undress you?” Din asks, and his tone is gentle enough for it to be a serious question.

You shake your head in response after thinking it over for a minute before remembering he can’t see you.

“You’ll have to use your words,” he says, “The lights need to stay off.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “Is that okay?”

You know it’s not him asking if you’re expecting him to betray his creed in order for this to happen; it’s him asking if you’re okay with not being able to see anything for your first time.

Your first time.

Urgh. It sounds so juvenile when you think about it that way, but so far, it’s living up to the adolescent kind of awkwardness you had expected, back when you had actually been an adolescent. You were past that now, and if you’re being honest with yourself that’s part of what’s making you feel self-conscious about this whole thing. You feel like this should have happened a long time ago. You wonder if Din thinks it odd that you’ve left it for this long.

“That’s fine,” you tell him quickly. Though you wish you could see him, not only to know what you’ll be working with, but also because doing it this way adds a layer of anonymity you didn’t necessarily want to associate with your first time. You’d always pictured it being with someone you felt close to – as cliché as it sounded, someone who was special to you. And even though that was true in this case, not being able to see that certain someone was detracting from the whole experience.

You feel movement in front of you and a large, warm hand finds your knee, running it over the fabric that still covers your body.

“We don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind,” Din tells you. His voice is different without the helmet; softer, gentler. Or maybe it’s just the circumstances that has him talking to you this way. You’d heard him use this kind of tone on the Child, and you had always admired the level of patience he always managed to show the kid, but you’d never found yourself on the receiving end of it like this before. It’s comforting.

Comforting enough to confirm your decision.

His hand moves away as he feels you start to shimmy out of your clothes. Your top goes first, up and over your head, joining his pile on the floor, then you reach down for the button on the front of your pants. You pause, realizing how exposed you’ll be, even with the cool air meeting your already-exposed nipples. This is a different kind of exposed, you think; more intimate. You give yourself a moment.

“May I?” he asks, and you’re surprised enough by his politeness that you nod, forgetting again he can’t see you, and breath out, “Yeah.”

You move your hand and let him take over, feeling his deft fingers make quick work of your button and zipper before he starts to tug the fabric down your legs, taking your pants and underwear all in one go. His hands find your knees and you sigh at the skin-on-skin contact, never expecting the man to feel this warm. You hear him drop down to his knees and suddenly feel warm breath between your legs. You make to close your legs at the unexpected sensation, unsure about having him this close to that area, but his hands come up to pull them back apart.

“What are you doing?” you ask, only to distract you both, because your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest at how fast this is moving.

“Mouth stuff,” he replies simply.

It’s simple, dry humor, but you swear he never makes you laugh more than when he catches you off guard with stuff like that. You don’t think anyone else would believe you if you tried to tell them how funny he can be without even trying. The joke manages to diffuse some of your anxiety and you relax back onto the bed, trusting him with whatever he’s about to do. Still, you gasp when his mouth meets your core, and he hums happily against you. You’ve done this with someone once before, but the memory feels clumsy compared to what Din is doing now; his grip tight around your waist and tongue immediately finding the right places. You try not to think about where he’s had the practice, focusing instead on the sensation he’s creating with a simple flick of his tongue.

You start to make noises you don’t think have ever come from you before, unable to help yourself with the sudden assault on your sensitive nerve endings. He pauses from what he’s doing as if struck by a sudden thought, smiling at the way you whimper at the sudden loss of contact.

“Have you ever cum before?” he asks.

“I think so,” you reply, but if you were being completely honest, you’re not sure. And least, not with another person. You’re pretty sure you’ve gotten there on your own. You think. You feel like that’s something you should know for sure.

“You think so?” he repeats, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve had, you know, urges, I took care of them, then they were gone.”

He makes a thoughtful sound and ones of his thumbs finds your clit, rubbing a couple of circles before he dips it down to your center to scoop up some of the wetness there to bring back up again.

“You don’t sound very sure,” he says casually, like he’s not driving you crazy right now with a simple touch. Feeling slightly pathetic, you can only whine, your brain feeling scrambled as his assault on your clit empties it of all coherent thought. “Next time I ask you, I want you to be a little more certain,” he tells you, and without warning dives back in, his tongue taking over from his thumb at a much faster pace. Your back arches off the bed and he slips his free arm across your hips, holding you in place.

You soon feel pressure at your entrance as he presses a finger carefully against it and in your frenzied state you push forward onto it, forgetting in a moment of desperate need your body’s inexperience with something like that. You’re wet enough that it doesn’t hurt, but it’s still a foreign feeling having something inside of you, and you realize that’s only one finger. Before you can start to imagine how something larger is going to feel, he presses the finger upwards inside of you and hits a spot you’ve never felt before. You cry out, caught completely off guard as the tight feeling in your lower belly breaks and you cum hard against him, hips bucking uncontrollably against his face. He growls against you, but doesn’t stop moving until your hips do.

“Fuck,” you whine, still panting as he slides his finger out of you and gives you one last lick. Still sensitive, you yelp and jerk back from the sensation, making him chuckle.

“Now you can say you’ve cum,” he tells you, and hell if he doesn’t sound proud of himself for giving you that.

“Yeah,” you agree, still barely able to form a proper thought. Then one comes to you. You sit up. He’s getting to his feet in front of you and it’s put him at the perfect height for what you have in mind.

He’s not expecting it when your hand finds his length, giving away his surprise with a sharp intake of breath. You take a moment to guess at his size, thinking once again how it’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, but any thought of pain is completely overridden by the very idea of having him inside you at all. But one thing at a time – you want to explore a few things first.

“Do you mind if I return the favor?” you ask him. You’re feeling different after your orgasm – feeling a sudden, renewed confidence – and the way his breath hitches as you start to pump him up and down sends a thrill through your body. He doesn’t reply, answering instead with a simple touch as his hands find your head, brushing your hair back from your face. You’ve done this before, too, but unlike your partner’s attempt on you at the time, yours had proven more successful.

You bob your head forward to find him, lips meeting the head of his cock and parting to let it enter. As your tongue laps at its underside, Din drops his head back with a moan that only encourages you further. You take as much of him inside your mouth as you can, letting the salty taste of him hit as close to the back of your throat as you’re comfortable with, and his grip tightens on your head as he fights the urge to buck forward. You’d said to go easy, and he’s mindful of that, but picturing what you must look like right now, face pink and glowing from your orgasm, mouth stuffed with his cock, he wishes he could flick the light on for a second just to see it. You guide your head back and forth, taking in all the sounds he’s making for you, testing particular places just to see what else you can make him do. All the while he continues to stroke your hair, murmuring praise that sounds strained as tries to force the words out, things like, ‘Good girl’ and ‘Yeah, just like that’.

All the praise starts to go to your head though, it seems, as you forget your earlier feelings of humiliation and whisper back, “You like that, daddy?” Then you pick up your pace and have him moaning to the point where he has to stop you. He gently grabs your head, pulling his hips back and plucking himself from your mouth with a slick ‘pop’.

“We’re going to have to stop there, sweet girl, or your going to make me cum.”

You simply look up to where his voice is coming from and make a sad little hum, any self-conscious thoughts or anxiety long gone at the sound of his half-ruined tone, and you find yourself eagerly awaiting the next step, your body begging for further touch. He chuckles at your reaction and leans down to find your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss, both of you groaning as you taste each other. It’s the first kiss you’ve shared with him, and as he moves forward and forces you back onto the bed, you find your legs come up automatically to wrap around him. That’s when you feel him, hard and pressing into your thigh.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks, as he grabs his length and rubs his tip between your folds to coat himself with your wetness. You moan when he passes over your clit and give yourself a moment to bask in the sensation as he continues to rub over that area.

“Just go slow,” you tell him, then you feel his cock move down from your clit to your entrance, now that you’ve finally given him permission. He only applies the slightest pressure, letting you get used to each new sensation as he introduces it, but you’re so slick down there that he begins to slip in. You tense, waiting for the sharp sensation you’re sure is coming.

“Relax.” Din’s hips have stilled, and he reaches up in the darkness to run his thumb across your cheek, soothing you. “Deep breaths, okay? I’ll make it feel good for you.”

You nod, and this time he feels the movement against his hand and doesn’t ask you to voice it, instead taking it as his cue to continue on. There’s a momentary sharp, burning sensation deep inside as you feel everything stretch, but as he slowly begins to move his hips, you find it fades more and more with each thrust, your wetness coating him and amplifying your pleasure. You’ve never felt this full before, not in this way, but he’s big enough to be hitting all your best spots at the same time. You’ve never felt this close to cumming this quickly.

“Shit.”

Hearing that single word, he starts to pick up speed and you clutch at whatever part of him you can reach, giving yourself up to the sensation as you feel that electric, tightening sensation starting again in your lower belly.

“Do you think you’re close?” he pants, because he knows he is – dangerously so – but he wants to keep true to his word. He wants to make this experience just as good for you.

You fail to answer, unable to stop the harsh cries leaving your mouth instead, and you don’t have time to tell him before the feeling breaks inside of you again and you’re pulsing around him. You cry out, louder than before, and this is enough to send him over the edge, too. He slips out at the last moment, and you feel warm bursts of liquid squirt across your stomach.

“Sorry,” he pants, grunting as he braces himself on one hand and then shivers through a couple of aftershocks, “I didn’t— I couldn’t—”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, voice just as breathless. And it is fine. You couldn’t care less about it. Your entire body feels more relaxed than it has in months. You feel spent in the best possible way and right now you’d be fine to just fall into a pile on the sheets and sleep.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body close to yours in the small space, warm and sweaty, and you’re surprised when he slips an arm underneath you to bring you closer. “So, was that okay? Do you feel okay? Sore?”

“Yeah. I mean, no, I’m okay.” The words come out as a few huffs of breath and, still high on endorphins, the noise makes you laugh.

Din gives you a squeeze at the familiar sound, smiling to himself in the darkness. Then he makes a thoughtful noise.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s nothing. It’s just…You’ve never been in here before.”

“So?” You gaze around in the darkness, thinking it is a little cramped compared to the space you’d made for yourself in the much larger cargo hold, and realize maybe that’s what he’s hinting at.

“I think you should cum here more often.”

“Did you just…?” You sit up to look at him the darkness, never in a million years expecting such a horrible, so very like-you joke to be uttered by the man and he yanks you back down and pulls you close, ignoring the sticky mess he’s made of you.

Then you hear a sound you’re not familiar with, and feel his warm breath against you as he laughs.

“Din Djarin, that joke was terrible.”

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and heaves a sigh that suggests fast approaching sleep. “I learned from the best.”

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #fic requests #the mandalorian #din djarin imagines #din djarin

216 notes · View notes

famouskittychild · 3 years

Text

Cheeky Mandos - Five: Coming home

Word count: 2828

Summary: They’re coming home! They’re coming home... a visit to home and facing some important questions.

Rating: M

CW: multiple references to sexual activities, relationship talk, references to polyamory (OC's parents) and open relationships, some angst, pining

Author’s note: Lots of pick-and-choose world building here. I mostly disregard / am not familiar with Legends except for the language, I love languages ( *insert Penny loves steak* gif here) and there’s barely any canon/also am not very familiar with whatever there is so I made up what I would like mandos to be; which is a very open and egalitarian society with a focus on family that comes in many forms (and is sometimes a single person with five tookas, other times it’s your three buir’e, your five vod’e and about thirty cousins.). Din is so alone and his covert has (had? :( ) to fight so hard to survive, I gave my Armourer a big, loving family and a community that fared much better.

Series: Prolouge - One - Two - Three - Four (NSFW Din/Cobb special)

Cheeky Mandos - Five: Coming home

When you get back to your covert, you leave Djarin behind as soon as politely possible. You need your friends, you need advice, and you need company that isn’t confusing you.

You find your friends at Thlolla’s place; they have small ones so the rest gather at their quarters, scattering in the kar’yai’s couches and on pillows on the floor. You commed them before you got back. They would’ve gathered anyways for the occasion that you came home, but your message made sure that everyone showed up for at least a little chat.

They know what it is all about, of course. They know you well enough. They saw the shiny armour. It’s easier than putting two and two together.

“It’s basically like putting one and one together” Tav winks at you, and Hill’it smacks their back.

“You are so bad at math, that’s the only thing you could ever calculate” and you all laugh at that because Tav is terrible with numbers.

All the couches and floor pillows are occupied as your friends and some of their families lounge around the karyai of Thlolla’s home. You stretch out on the soft rug, resting your limbs on as many people as you can. You missed them dearly. Jama, who has your left leg draped over his knee, rubs your calf before speaking.

“So. What is your problem, mate?”

He knows you the longest. You lived at the same covert from the time you were entrusted with your own rifles, moved three times, and only separated years later after you both went through your verd'goten. His clan is the reason you still have the same accent as him when you’re tired or angry: that was the first time you were around more people than your immediate family.

You let your thoughts linger on the past because it’s safer than the present. Or the future.

“No problem. Just the usual ‘I’m an idiot, innit’ situation.” You pause, and try to swallow your regrets. “When was I good with choices?”

There’s a collective sigh and rolling of eyes, but you can’t help to feel that way and voice it. All your friends have found their places a long time ago. Some on their own like Haika; others have families, some with children like Thlolla does, or with partners of some kind. Except you. To-Ran, Tav’s foundling, crawls over to you and leans against your chest. They have been formally adopted by their current clan only recently and probably feels you are in something of a similar situation. You squeeze their shoulders reassuringly.

“Let’s be honest, hun” Jama says, “Neither of us has the burden you do. We don’t have to vanish off to space for weeks at a time, or if we have to, we can work together.”

That is the crux of the matter. Unless you get with another Armourer, your professions would pull you apart.

“I’m just thinking… maybe it’s because I was alone for quite a while now. I just latched onto the first person that came along and stayed for a bit.”

Hill’it pulls up an eyebrow before answering.

“Maybe you need a friend so you won’t feel so alone.”

There are small ones in the room hence the careful wording, but the adults understand the added meaning. They offer friendship, yes, but the definition of that word can vary. You aren’t sure how outsiders do it exactly - you have met people who have definitely had a more stricter separation between friend, person to have feelings for, and person to have sex with, than your people do. But they didn’t seemed to navigate things any better, so you stick with what you know and what worked.

But your people, at least those you know closer, tends to deal with problems head-on. You can’t fight well if your thoughts linger on problems in your private lives. You were thought early on to face your doubts and fears and anything that could be a distraction - and how that includes feelings and libido too. How people have needs for emotions, attachments and intimacy, that those varies, each their own way and degree. And that these are some of the things that can spur people to make rush decisions the most. You and your friends watched others make those mistakes and made some yourselves too.

Life thought you that if you have people around to talk to and to hug and to trust, you wont jump on a stranger you’ve barely met and feel attracted in some way just to fulfil those needs. You can wait until you get to know them, until you actually want them for themselves, and not just for the feelings or the intimacy, emotional or physical.

Hil’it is a good partner, familiar and fun, and tonight, extra caring. You wake up together sometime way before dawn, and the worry must still be on your face.

“Rivets for your thoughts?”

You sigh, and try to gather said thoughts. You remind yourself at another hard learned lesson: talking about a problem is often half the way of solving them.

“I’m just wondering… “ you start, than your words stuck in your throat.

“..what if it works out?” Hil’it smirks at you, lips pulled into a lopsided grin as they rest their head on their arm. You furrow your brows in disapproval.

“No, don’t try to derail the conversation. What if I say something, or do… and he takes it as an offence?” You stop their objections before they could open their mouth fully. “I’m serious. He was sent on this… mission. From high up. Pissing him off can have political consequences.”

“You mean that he could take your advances the wrong way and exact vengeance on your clan, or even the entire covert?” They look at you with an eyebrow raised. Put it like that, you know that’s not very plausible. “We are talking about a vod who was basically ready to enter your service and accept any of your terms, after seeing you for the first time three minutes prior when you said ‘hey I’m a wandering armourer, I visit some coverts sometimes’ - all so he can reach more of our people.”

“Yeah… he won’t turn on us just because I make him feel a bit uncomfortable.”

“Not very likely.”

You nod, glad you managed to voice your worries.

They lean their forehead to yours, and you share a breath, the tradition as old as the Creed. Hil’it than tugs on your arm, pulling you closer onto their chest. You scoot over and snuggle up beside them with your back to them, their arms around you and resting their hands on your chest. You sleep much better until dawn.

Three of your buirs live at a smaller enclave some distance from the main hub of the covert. You go over to them for breakfast after Hil’it leaves for her job early. It’s only Tis-buir who’s up, as usual, pattering about in the kitchen making long breakfast just as you expected.

He pulls you close and touches your helmets together. He didn’t need to wear his helmet in his own home, or even his armour, and definitely not at this early hour, but he got into the habit since you became a Master. His set was forged before you were born and you’re grateful that he’s still around, together with your other buirs. Every time you get home, they seem to look older and older though. You wonder whether part of your panic about relationships comes from the dread that they might not be able to give their blessings to you.

“How are you doing, ad’ika?” he asks, and the way he says it is always with so much more meaning than people usually throw that question around. When Tis-buir asks it, he means it. He wants to know if you have any fears, if something bothers you, if there’s something that made you happy but don’t talk about it because you think it’s too insignificant to talk about. You hesitate, and that’s an answer in itself that he understands. “That bad, eh?”

He chuckles and steps away, back to the steamer. He checks the rice cooking there before turning back to you.

“What is it, cyare? Pirates? More beskar thieves? Or that stowaway getting in your way while you work?”

Your helmet is on so he can’t see your face, luckily, and you’re quick to deny anything.

“No, it’s not that. It’s something more… personal.” You could just end the conversation, like you often do when you don’t want to trouble your buir’e, but you came for advice. You nudge yourself mentally. Better to spit it out - it’s nothing to be ashamed about catching feelings after all. Your buir’e told their stories enough times to know they have no problem hearing about the topic.

“Oh. So, it’s about a special person. And they are.. an aruetii?” He asks, and he keeps his helmet on still, to allow you to do the same. As much as you’d like to see his face, it’s better this way.

“No, it’s… he follows the Creed too.” You admit, and your stomach is doing a flip. It’s entirely different talking to your family about this. With your friends, they’d just say their opinion and you can take it or leave it. With your aliit, you want their approval.

Tis-buir nods slowly, weighing your words. Then he reaches for his helmet and takes it off, placing it on the shelf near the counters that is there for this purpose. He leaves his scarf on, the handwoven fabric soft around his white hair and beard. You may take off your own helmet now, and you do that, placing it on the shelf beside his. You turn your snood down from your head and fold it back around your neck. He’s smiling at you.

“Shall I put two and two together, or…?”

“Why does everyone want to do math around me all of a sudden” you mutter under your breath, turning your face away in embarrassment.

“Because your friends and us know you well enough, Buy’ce’ka” he winks at you while stirring one of the pans; he knows you met your friends last evening. Using your childhood nickname brings a smile onto your face. You took into your head to became an armourer the moment you touched your first helmet. You wore it all the time even though you didn’t needed to and told everyone who would listen that one day you’ll be making buy’ce’se, helmets, yourself. Even some of the tutors called you that instead of your real name.

You go to help with breakfast. It’s not the usual simple fare but the multi course, heart-warming, belly-filling affair for a special day. You remember with a sudden pang how Djarin is probably having ration bars on his own in a sparse guest room, or maybe some porridge if he remembers to go to the communal dining hall. You somehow hope he has company, even if he is fine with solitude. You are too, but you have all these people to recharge with. How alone is he?

You almost burn the mushrooms while getting distracted. You focus back on the food, and as the house slowly stirs awake, the members of your family show up one by one and greet you over stirring pots and chopping vegetables. When all is ready, Tis-buir calls to table and you move everything into the karyai. The heart of every home where most of life happens - eating, living, receiving guests, defense during a battle - is a spacious room, and you only half fill it.

It’s only your three buir’e who live here now, and one of your vod’e lives next door. She comes over with her riduur and their usually grumpy teen who fails to hide how happy they are to see you. You don’t even make an attempt to hide anything and after touching foreheads, you pick them up and give them a hearty squeeze.

“Ba’vodu! I’m not a child anymore to just pick me up like that” they grumble after you put them back down, and you pat the top of their head.

“You’re going to need to grow a little more, vodu’ad.” You smile at them, but they suddenly go nervous.

“Are you going to come home to my verd'goten?” they say, face solemn and showing them older than they are. You see this often: the fears of a foundling, someone who lost their roots once already. The little things that a person born into a mandalorian family would never worry about rear their head in them, and you hug them close.

“Well that’s an unnecessary question. Why wouldn’t I?!”

They make you promise to come back, and you let them make a reminder of the date and time in the form of a holo message on the comm of your vambrace. You have made their first helmet years ago and they barely can hold themselves back for a few minutes before asking about the possibility of vambraces. Their new pair, forged to include pieces passed down at both side of their family’s, are hidden in the house, finished months ago, waiting for them to prove worthy to receive them.

You wouldn’t miss the occasion for the world. You’ve been there for all your vodu’ad’s, the children of your siblings; and even some of your younger cousins and unrelated ade in your clan. As you eat with your aliit, your thoughts go back to Djarin again. He must be missing that foundling he was responsible for. Who does he have for family? He mentioned some friends who helped him through bad times lately. You hope he’s on the comm with them right now, using the covert’s better equipment to reach them after having to do with what the Brick has for weeks.

You spend the day chatting, visiting the elder of your clan and more family, and one of the old warriors of the clan too, to receive her last blessings. She might still be alive the next time you visit home; she might not. You are thankful for being able to say goodbye to her. You visit the Forge last, and help out with whatever work needs doing with the other masters, until it’s time to leave for the dock.

You almost start to make excuses to prolong your stay before steeling yourself. Twenty-four hours, a standard day, that was the schedule you agreed on with Djarin. Unless he comms you that something came up on his end, you’ll leave in the evening.

The first thing you spot in the hangar is the shiny armour. That suit looks good at every angle, at any distance. Than you feel your ears flush when a little voice says in your head how that might be partially because the person under it makes it look good. You try to shove the thought to the back of your mind.

As you draw near, you can see he’s talking with your elder Thrilla. Your heart does a double-beat as all your thoughts from before come flushing back for a moment. No. They must be talking about his mission, not you. And he’s basically clan-less, or at least elder-less. It’s good to see him seeking the guidance of an elder too.

He’s standing in that hip-twisty way you’ve seen him do, with one hand on his belt. It’s a strangely relaxed and playful stance from a person who’s usually as focused and sombre as him. Thrilla glances up at you, the black of her visor glinting in the blue and green helmet. Than she shoos you away with a barely visible battle sign, turning back to Djarin. You’re a bit surprised, but make yourself scarce. Than you spot a grey head near the cargo ramp of the Brick. It’s Kad, Thrilla’s riduur and a mechanic who had helped to rebuild your ship. You go over to greet them before getting on with the preparations to leave.

This time you two will be away for longer and will travel further away. The trail to known coverts had dried up, and from now on you will be going by uncertain informations and rumours. You have experience in that, but the fact that he used to be a bounty hunter should help. You often spend days just trying to pinpoint which spaceport, which town, which mountain or cave or farmstead is the one you are looking for. You hope his expertise will help.

Your hopes are proven right. He reduces the hunting time to hours, and you scramble to finish preparing your tools and equipment.

“Nice job, hunter” you smile at him. His helmet turns towards you and he nods.

“You’re welcome, armourer” and you hear the smile in his voice too. Than you mentally chase away the butterflies that suddenly seem to have taken over your stomach.

#din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x tall reader #post season 2 #mandalorian oc #armourer oc #cheeky mandos #my writing

17 notes · View notes

vvitchering · 3 years

Text

So @kitherin is an absolutely wonderful human being and spends way more hours in her day talking to me about dincobb than anyone should ever be expected to and she had a very intriguing spicy thought earlier tonight that has set up camp in my brain and refuses to leave so. Brel, come get your “unexpectedly sensual head scritches with a bonus Very Happy Ending” juice.

Warnings for: innocent activities getting decidedly Less Innocent and my incredibly obvious lack of knowledge of anything Star Wars related (sorry)

The thing about the situation was this: Cobb wasn’t even trying to be sexy. Their intimacy was new, exciting, and often overwhelming in its novelty for Din. They’d been taking things slow and steady, allowing the Mandalorian the chance to adjust at his own pace. Spending practically his entire adult life separated from the world by thick beskar plating had unsurprisingly starved Din of touch, of physical connection. Din hadn’t thought it was in his stars to ever find someone who made him want to question his strict adherence to the Creed.

Cobb never questioned his choices. He never pushed Din to abandon his beliefs. He made the effort to know and enjoy his company regardless of his Creed, yet not in spite of it. It was thrilling. It made him want to take chances, risks, in the pursuit of finding happiness with another being.

He allowed Cobb close; closer than any being had been to him before. It hadn’t come back around to bite him in the ass yet, which shouldn’t have been such a shock. Old wounds still pulled his mind to dark places sometimes. They made him want to put back every protective layer between himself and anything that could possibly hurt him again. Cobb, with his kind eyes and good heart, had peeled back those layers one by one, until Din was laid terrifyingly bare.

The blindfold had been the Marshal’s idea.

“Way I see it, Creed ain’t broken if I don’t actually see you.”

He’d said it with such easy confidence, the red fabric of his scarf tied securely over hazel eyes that Din found himself missing the second they were hidden away. Din had never once wanted to violate his Creed, but Cobb was allowing him to bend, not break, the sacred traditions. Some part of him howled in fear as he reached up to unseal his buy’ce while another, hungrier, part of him sang at the chance for More and Closer.

They laid on their sides in Cobb’s painfully tiny bed, facing one another, each enjoying simply being in the other’s presence. There was no expectation. No pressure. Din felt exposed, a little unsure, but safe.

“Will you let me try something?” Cobb asked, stroking a hand down the length of Din’s neck. Din shivered, then nodded, then cleared his throat and made an affirmative noise when he remembered Cobb couldn’t see.

“Tell me if its too much, you hear me? But I think you’re going to love this.”

Then there were fingers in his hair, combing through his dark curls, getting him used to the brand new feeling. No one had touched his hair since he was a boy. The foreign feeling faded away quickly, however, and Din butted up into the hand almost without conscious thought. Cobb laughed softly, encouraged by and enamored with the positive reaction.

“Never had your hair played with before?”

Din huffed in feigned exasperation.

“Well, there’s usually this impenetrable metal helmet surrounding the entirely of my head, so...”

“Alright, alright, simmer down, Mando. Here, see how you like this.”

The gentle combing motion became sharper, Cobb’s nails scratching through the strands until they came into contact with Din’s scalp and began to scratch. Din gasped, a tingly sensation spreading from the top of his head all the way down into his torso. It was like every nerve ending in his poor touch starved body lit up like a supernova, suddenly, massively, unexpectedly. The tingling spread steadily, reaching down to his toes and reverberating throughout the rest of him, making him shiver deliciously.

Cobb didn’t have particularly long or sharp nails, but the sensation was so strange, so new, that he may as well have for how intensely Din felt it. Every drag of his fingers across Din’s head set new waves of pleasant tingles in motion. It felt like a tide, like a chill, like something was building within him the longer he allowed the sensations to continue.

Helpless whimpers spilled from his mouth, completely out of his control, and he thought he should probably feel embarrassed but he really couldn’t be bothered at the moment. He felt too good. Too safe. He butted his head again against the scratching fingers in a plea for more and reached up to grip Cobb’s forearm and keep it in place. Before he knew what was happening, Din’s back arched in pleasure and a truly filthy sounding moan filled the room around them.

Both men froze. Still riding the high, it took Din a few moments to realize Cobb’s hand had stilled and the tingling had dissolved completely into warm echoing slowly fading waves of pleasure. As he wrestled back control over his pleasure soaked brain, Din realized two things at once: One, bright burning stars above, he had come in his pants like an undisciplined child, and two, Cobb had gone completely and disconcertingly still and silent.

“Hey, was that too much? Did I hurt you? You got me worried with that little display just now, darlin’. I swear I wasn’t trying to start something, I just thought--”

“Hmmmm, Marshal...” And, fuck, Din’s usually soft even voice sounded wrecked.

“What, tell me, do you want me to get gone for a while? I really hadn’t meant for things to escalate like that, but I didn’t think--”

“Cobb. Shut up. It was good.”

“Oh. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They laid quietly together as Din collected himself. The mess in his pants was unfortunate, as it would require him leaving their warm nest to clean up, but he found he wasn’t regretting much more of the experience, unexpected as it was. It hadn’t been his first, he was nearer to middle aged than he liked to admit and was no stranger to such urges. But it had been a long time since the dalliances of his youth in the safety of the covert, the last time he’d allowed another living soul to touch him in such a way.

He could sense Cobb continuing to mildly panic at his side, unable to see Din’s blissed-out expression. Sweet man. Din had been right to place such trust in him. He brought his hands to either side of Cobb’s silvered head and pulled him closer to gently and affectionately bump their foreheads together. Cobb let out a relived sigh at the action and moved his own hands to safer territory at Din’s sides. The fabric from the scarf-turned-blindfold still firmly in place on Cobb’s face tickled at Din’s nose and the Mandalorian smiled.

Yes. He’d definitely made the right choice.

*~*

buy’ce means helmet in Mando’a, a language I am a little bit obsessed with at the moment.

Read this story on AO3

#dincobb #marshalorian #din djarin/cobb vanth #the mandalorian #I have no idea if this is even actually good or coherent #I'm sick and have been running a fever for two days lmao #anyway ilu brel pls take this meager offering #me @ dincobb fandom please be gentle with me I am New HEre #mine #my fic

38 notes · View notes

kingaegonblackfyre · 3 years

Text

I have a lot of feelings, and I went into it wanting to like it

I love Ahsoka Tano. Removing the whole rl situation with RD from consideration, I went into this desperately hoping for the best and wanting to like it because I would love to see a live-action Ahsoka. Problem is, after over a decade of a purely animated character, any live-action version was gonna be a tall order, particularly due to the appearance and combat style. I get it.

The intro scene was alright - a good start. Duel wielding, reverse grip saber, force pushing and pulling. All characteristic of her fighting style, sans a classic Ahsoka kick to the face.

Then as the episode went on it got... weird? It was like it hit wrong notes for me across multiple points, and not necessarily RD’s fault.

Costume/Makeup Dept

As almost everyone is saying, the montrals and lekku are too short. The montrals look like she’s stuck her head out the window of a car.

The paintjob looks like it was painted last minute and then maybe sent through the washing machine and faded (sorry, not sorry).

And the creasing my god I could not look away, it was right next to her face. If it was meant to demonstrate battle scars, it was not done in an obvious enough way to show that.

Instead, as someone else pointed out, it looked like they ran out of CG money and time and just used the stand-in headpiece.

Do not come at me about “well she wouldn’t be able to move or fight in it”. This is DISNEY, and they are damn well gonna use this to springboard a new series and/or movie around Ahsoka, so don’t tell me they don’t have money to CG it in their FORTY MINUTE ADVERTISEMENT.

The face markings were off. The cheek ones didn’t extend back, and the forehead ones were a little too low and off.

There was no pigment to the lips or nails.

The outfit itself was fine, she always favored sleeveless (good!), but I thought the bottom was a little too low and would infringe upon her usual movement fighting style (as compared to her entire history of tactical skirts over leggings).

Choreography

The start was good - Ahsoka, like Maul, has never subscribed to the usual Jedi “lightsaber and ONLY lightsaber” combat style. She uses the force to push, pull, throw things. She kicks, she punches, she tackles. She turns sabers on and off on a whim to suit her needs. And most famously, the reverse grip. The first scene checked most of these boxes, while not perfect it was a pretty fair job.

The jumping over the tree branch and slicing her way out was well done too.

But by the time it got to the fight against the Magistrate, the choreography just... wasn’t there? From a cinematography pov, with the background, it was a pretty shot, but the combat just was not Ahsoka and kinda... weak for knowing over a year out she was gonna be in this.

She faced Grievous (at least twice) and survived, defeated Maul, jacked up Vader to the point that he limped away with 2/3rds of a helmet, and survived Sidious, and somehow she was disarmed by the Magistrate.

And then never recalled her saber from the water. The girl, who was disarmed by Maul and summoned it lit back to her hand through him, didn’t recall it.

I don’t know if there was a Covid concern, time issue, or a costume issue where they wanted or needed RD to do a lot of her own stunts, but clearly CW7 had a duel-wielding stuntwoman ready. to. go. to stunt Ahsoka. (and let’s face it, nobody had a problem with the Maul duel mo-cap so...)

To be perfectly honest, as she has done with Maul and the Inquisitors, she would have just grabbed the beskar spear and yanked it out of the Magistrate’s hands.

Or just knocked her into a wall with the Force

And to be fair, if the problem with the lekku and montrals was “well she couldn’t move or film fights in it” they didn’t really do enough movements for my taste to even justify that argument.

Writing

As other reviewers have noted previously, the Mandalorian loves to tease characters or plot lines and basically pool skim them (i.e. Cobb Vanth). It’s hard to cover an entire character/plot in 30-50 mins. I get it. But from the outside, if you were new to this character and hadn’t watched TCW or SWR, these were some of the takeaways you got, almost in order:

“She’s badass, but is she actually good or bad?”

“Can she be trusted with the Child? Maybe Din is right to be pacing.”

“Who is she, and what was she in the scheme of the story?” (this at least piques people’s interest to maybe do some research)

“Oh cool, so she won’t train him after we spent episodes getting here. Cool. Cool.”

“And now she’s gone, so should I give a shit about looking up who she is?”

And my personal favorite I’ve seen a few times: “Any other Jedi could have been substituted here and it wouldn’t have made a difference”

^^^^^^^^^This last one.

That’s a writing problem. That means you fucked up. That means you didn’t do enough in 40 minutes (when you set the timespan) to tell people why she matters or why we the audience should care.

And finally RD. It was mostly ok. I think some of the looks and head tilts nailed it. Ahsoka. But Ashley, even as adult Ahsoka, always spoke a little... musically in tone? Even portraying the older “I’ve been through some shit and I have PTSD” Ahsoka with an older tone, it still had moments of ups and downs in tone. And that can come off a little too cartoony real easily irl, I will admit, but it was just a little too monotone for me a lot. Plus Ahsoka does a lot of arm crossing and hands on hips, and the scene with her watching Din and Grogu really caught my attention that it was missing.

So I feel like there was a lot of good shit that happened (we got a name and backstory, we saw Morai and lothcats, THRAWWWWN, Tython, dual white lightsabers, live-action Ahsoka in the flesh, a Kurosawa feel, good cinematography), but I just... didn’t quite like it, and I can’t even just pin it to one thing.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #mandalorian spoilers #star wars #ahsoka tano #ahsoka #tv

39 notes · View notes

curiosi-tea-writes · 3 years

Text

Coffee

Pairing: Din Djarin / Cobb Vanth

Setting: Modern AU

Summary: Most of Din and Cobb’s date nights consist of them going out to dinner, a museum, or possibly a movie. But Din comes home one date night to the extreme scent of coffee filling the house. It’s decided that sometimes they can stay in and do something different for a change.

-------------------------------------

The smell of coffee hit Din the second he opened the door. He had just gotten back from dropping Grogu off at Peli’s for the night, excited for his and Cobb’s one night off a month to relax and focus on each other while Grogu gets absolutely spoiled by his aunt.

He entered the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. Spread out on the counter was every type of coffee they owned, each open, Cobb scooping coffee grinds out from one of the bags.

“What are you doing?” was all Din could manage to get out.

Cobb’s gaze snapped up with a large smile. “I’m combining all of our coffees together to make one franken-coffee.” He was far too excited about this idea and Din could scoffed out a laugh and shook his head. “I had texted you saying I was going to do it,” Cobb defended, turning back to the ludicrous amount of coffee before him.

Din pulled out his phone and checked his messages for the first time in hours. Sure enough, Cobb had sent him a link to a YouTube video of someone combining all of her teas together with the message, ‘This but with all of our coffees?’ Din chuckled and put his phone away again. He walked up behind Cobb and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Is this how we’re spending our night off?” He rested his chin on Cobb’s shoulder.

The spoon in Cobb’s hand fell back into the bag of coffee. He turned as best he could without forcing himself fully out of Din’s embrace. “It’s our night off,” he sighed. He had completely forgotten what day it was. In a split second he was already beginning to close up the bags of coffee. “I’ll just clean up and we can go out and do something I just-”

“Hey,” Din spoke softly, pulling Cobb back towards him. He placed his hand gently over Cobb’s and moved them away from the bags. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I was just asking. We don’t have to go out, we can,” Din glanced over at the bags on the counter and gave a laugh, not believing the words he was about to speak, “make a franken-coffee.”

Cobb’s heart skipped as Din spoke, the way it always did when he remembered just how much Din loves him. He threw his arms around Din’s neck like a little kid and laughed. He pressed his cold nose to Din’s neck, smiling at the warmth. “Have I mentioned recently how much I love you?” he whispered.

Din hummed and tightened his hold on Cobb. “Every single day,” he chuckled, “but I never mind hearing it again.”

With a roll of his eyes, Cobb stepped away and turned back towards the counter. “Are you going to try this with me?”

“Do I have a choice?” Din asked as he picked up a chocolate coffee bag and brought it up to his nose. He hadn’t seen half of these coffees in months because they just keep buying more. The chocolate one had always been Din’s favorite though. He let his eyes fall closed as he breathed in the scent and smiled. He opened them to see Cobb’s face bright and happy and it made Din’s heart squeeze and all he could do was stare.

Cobb lifted his gaze to ask Din a question but the words died on his lips. If it were possible for a person to have literal heart eyes, that’s how he’d say Din was looking at him in that moment. It gave him butterflies in his stomach just as it had the first time he caught Din staring like that. “What?” he mumbled, suddenly extremely self conscious.

“Nothing,” Din whispered back, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You just look so perfect when you’re happy.”

Cobb was grateful that he hadn’t had a spoonful of coffee in his hand at that moment because he likely would have dropped it. He both hated and loved that Din could make him weak-kneed so easily. He shook his head and tried to brush off the heat in his face with a chuckle, turning back to his project.

Din closed the distance between them again and wrapped his arms around him from behind as he had earlier. “I take immense pride in knowing that after three years of a relationship, I still manage to make you blush.” His words were warm against Cobb’s ear, causing chills to run down Cobb’s spine.

“Who said you make me blush?” Cobb attempted to defend. “Maybe it’s just warm in here.”

Din tightened his arms and laughed. “Right, I’m sure.” He let go quickly and stepped away. His smile widened as he watched Cobb lean back, chasing the embrace. “Alright,” he spoke clearly, breaking their soft moment. “How many coffees do you have left?”

Cobb barely contained the near growl bubbling in his chest as he felt the warmth of Din’s body part from his. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. He gestured to four bags separated from the others’. “Just these four,” he managed to get out before having to attempt to clear his throat again.

With a smirk, Din reached around Cobb and took the spoon out of his hand. He scooped coffee from one of the bags and put it into the strainer. He moved that bag aside with the others that had been done and reached for another.

“Thank you,” Cobb said softly, leaning his arms on the counter.

Din looked up and furrowed his brows. “For what?” There was a hint of a laugh in his words that made Cobb believe he didn’t actually know.

“Everything,” he sighed. “Agreeing to stay in tonight so I could do this, helping me do it.” His smile grew brighter with each word, willing the adoration he felt to show through. “Loving me unconditionally.”

Din set the spoon back down and crossed the distance again. His hand was cold on the back of Cobb’s neck as he pulled him in for a gentle kiss. They parted, their lips ghosting against each others. “I just like to see you happy,” he whispered against Cobb’s lips.

“You make me happy,” Cobb replied, closing the small distance to connect their lips again.

Din smiled into the kiss, basking in the pure bliss of the moment. He adored Cobb so much and lived for these soft moments between them. When Cobb pulled away, he chased his lips for a moment before straightening his shoulders again.

Cobb turned excitedly and finished preparing the coffee. Din leaned against the counter and watched with a light smile and bright eyes as Cobb waited very impatiently for the pot to be done.

“You do realize how much caffeine you just put into one cup of coffee, right?” Din laughed as Cobb poured the extremely dark coffee into a large mug.

“I couldn’t care less,” Cobb admitted with a smile as he held the mug out to Din. Their hands brushed as Din took the mug and Cobb wished he could convince his heart not to flutter every time they did as if it was the first. He watched with an anxious gaze as Din brought the mug to his lips and took the smallest sip. His expression changed to one of pure joy as Din’s nose scrunched up. “No good?”

“It’s uhm....” Din paused and took another sip, his reaction not as dramatic this time. “It’s not horrible.” He took another sip. “It’s growing on me. It’s extremely bitter.” He went to take another sip but Cobb’s hands on the mug stopped him.

“Okay, okay,” Cobb laughed. “Don’t drink all my coffee.” He took the mug out of his hands and brought it up to his nose to breathe in the scent before taking his own sip.

Din scoffed. “There��s a whole pot of it,” he defended, prompting Cobb to nearly choke on the drink. “What’re you going to do? Drink the whole pot?”

“Perhaps,” Cobb mumbled into the mug.

“You are so chaotic.” Din shook his head and moved around Cobb to the cupboard. He found himself a smaller mug and poured some coffee in it for himself.

Cobb leaned against the counter and smiled brightly as Din took a sip from his own mug. “It’s why you love me.”

“One of the reasons, yeah,” Din admitted.

They took a quiet moment, just admiring one another. Standing a handful of feet apart in their small kitchen, warm mugs of strange coffee in their hands, both minds filled with, “Goodness he’s perfect.” Both could feel the warmth of their drinks fill their bodies with every sip; so much so they were unsure where the warmth of the drink stopped and where the warmth from the love began. Neither truly cared, though. To them, they were one in the same.

-------------------------------

Hours later, Din’s brain continued to spin from the one cup of coffee he had. He knew full well that having a cup so late in the day would result in very little sleep but he couldn’t complain.

Despite having three cups, Cobb had promptly crashed halfway through their movie. He laid spread across the sofa, his head in Din’s lap. Din mindlessly let his fingers run gently through his hair, lulling Cobb to sleep as the movie played on. It wasn’t until the end credits began to roll that Din noticed his position and that there was little chance of them making it to the bedroom that night.

Din shifted slightly to turn off the tv. Letting his head fall back against the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling in the now dark living room. He couldn’t think of a more perfect way to end their evening off. Maybe it wasn’t the same as their other evenings, but it was perfect. They didn’t need to have a fancy dinner or find a museum to go to. Sometimes the best date nights were ones where they stayed home and Cobb made an insane amount of coffee.

--------------------------------

Din tiptoed quietly out of the living room after slipping out from underneath Cobb once the sun began to shine through the window. He tried not to make too much noise as he began preparing pancakes for him and Cobb. That is, until he was moving a pan out of the way and promptly dropped it with an echoing crash. He winced, scrunching up his nose as he heard Cobb make his way to the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Din laughed half-heartedly. Cobb gave his own weak laugh before groaning and rubbing his eyes. “How do you feel?” he asked, picking up the pan.

“Like I have a hangover without any of the fun of drinking,” Cobb grunted.

Din smirked, already trying not to laugh at his next comment. “Would you like some coffee?”

Cobb grabbed a towel off of the counter and threw it at him with a laugh. Din doubled over laughing. He loved making Cobb bitter sometimes and Cobb had to admit that he enjoyed it too. Cobb shook his head and rolled his eyes, finally letting himself laugh along. “I don’t think I will be drinking coffee for a long while.”

“That is a blatant lie and you know it,” Din laughed, turning back to the food.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted with a nod. “I will not be recreating that creation again though.”

Din turned and jokingly glared at him over his shoulder. “Yes you will.”

“Yeah, I probably will.”

#dincobb #marshalorian #marshmando #din x cobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #modern au #the mandalorian #star wars #Han writes

16 notes · View notes

thrawnisbae · 3 years

Text

So that felt like kind of anticlimactic end.

My opinion may be affected by the fact I got spoiled as to the identity of the (spoiler) at the end, but still.

More under the cut:

First, can we have anything that’s not centered around or neatly saved by the Skywalkers? Seriously, Luke is barely a Jedi. I love him a lot but he got a few months’ training and goes around calling himself a Jedi Master, then starts a Jedi school. No wonder it went to crap. Even Ahsoka had more Jedi training than Luke, not to mention actual Jedi Masters like Quinlan Vos who are known to have escaped Order 66.

It was nice to see all the Mandos working together, even if they were a bit “you don’t go here” toward Boba. I still kind of want to know why he just lived in the desert and didn’t even try to get his armor back from Cobb Vance, buuuut... not enough to watch a whole show about him to find out. xD

Enough of this “you saved me life thus I must serve you forever” business, I want a whole show of Cara Dune and Fennic Shand. I just love seeing them work together.

I’ll admit this did get me excited for the show about Bo-Katan. I’ll definitely be tuning in for that one.

I’ve heard that “Ben Solo” is now trending on Twitter because people this ep means he killed Grogu, and like.. that’s already been canonically disproven even before we knew Luke trained Grogu. We don’t even know if Grogu was there, but we do know Ben only killed a few of the older students who blamed him for the attack. Meh.

I did like that Din took his helmet off to say goodbye to Grogu. Tbh I doubt it was the first time he had, but the fact he did it this time with others around was very meaningful and Pedro did a great job with the scene.

I really hope Din shows up in the Bo-Katan show. He deserves a better wrap-up to his story than this provided.

#The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Ben Solo #Cara Dune #Fennic Shand #Quinlan Vos #spoilers

10 notes · View notes

theboredwritertm · 3 years

Note

I think a dincobb fic based on this would be cute, please 💜💜💜

Him

Summary: After their run-in at Mos Pelgo, Din finds Cobb getting a little too needy.

Warnings: intoxication, Din being an ass, sexual references, swearing

Pairing: Din Djarin x Cobb Vanth

Word count: 739 (short and sweet)

A/N: Cobb Vanth is a cowboy who radiates bottom energy and nobody can convince me otherwise.

****

He had been ignoring the blinking red light for a while now.

He knew who it was. He knew exactly what it was about. He didn’t want to deal with it – didn’t want to deal with him.

It had been over a month since he’d left Tatooine, and they hadn’t spoken since, at least not person-to-person. Cobb had been leaving a lot of messages - a lot of drunk messages – and Din hadn’t bothered responding to any of them.

As far as he was concerned, what had happened between them had been a once-off.

It wasn’t until the Child had become transfixed with the glowing button, staring at it every time he was seated on Din’s lap in the pilot seat, that Din knew he had to do something about it.

He waited until he’d put the kid to bed, climbed back up into the cockpit, made himself comfortable in his chair, and finally pressed play on the transceiver. His body’s reaction to the low, gravelly and clearly-intoxicated voice that came through was instantaneous, memories of the night after the krayt dragon flooding back to him with startling clarity.

“It’s been a while,” the voice began, drawling and lazy just like Din remembered it. “Just thought I’d check in, see how you guys have been.”

The line went dead. The second message began to play. Din had to check to be sure, but he was certain it had to be from the same night – maybe just a few more glasses of spotchka in.

“I get it. It was a one-time thing, right? Big Mandalorians like you can’t get attached.”

God, he was so fucking drunk. Din leaned back in his seat, hands resting behind his head, mentally preparing himself for the rest of the Marshal’s pathetic diatribe.

“I won’t hold my breath waiting to hear back.”

Click.

Next message.

“I crave your affection. Maker above, I can’t stop thinking about you. How you felt inside of me, in my mouth, in—”

Din let out a long sigh as he hit the transceiver button again to shut it off. Pathetic. Right? Then why the hell was he so hard? He sat in silence for a long while, willing his blood back to places he actually needed it, staring out into the dark abyss passing by outside as the Crest slipped through an Outer Rim star system. He’d never admit it to a single soul, but there were times when it got a little lonely out here. Not a sign of life, aside for him and the Child, for miles around. With another sigh, he reached for the transceiver again, this time punching in some numbers.

It didn’t take long to get an answer.

“Hey, stranger.”

Laid back. Casual. The greeting sounded noticeably restrained.

“Wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“You crave my affection, huh?”

Silence on the other end. Then, all casual pretense out the window.

“I crave your affection, but I crave your silence even more – shut up.”

“Guess you’re sober, now.”

“Actually—” Din hears the clink of glassware somewhere in the background of the call, the pouring of liquid. “Not quite. Why don’t you come join me?”

Silence.

“Hey, you still there, partner?”

“Just giving you the silence you crave.”

“You know, I take back what I said. You’re an asshole…”

More silence, then:

“So, what do you say? I got a bottle of spotchka with your name on it.”

“That all?”

He hears the smile in Cobb’s voice now. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

Din smiles to himself, but refuses to give himself away (even if the blood rushing back to a particular body part already has).

“Fine.”

“So, when should I expect you?”

Din considers his current position on the monitor. He’s not in the middle of anything too important. Just the usual: flying under the radar, evading dangerous enemies, trying to make a living. He could get away with it.

“Might be a while.”

“I can wait.”

The silence this time is heavier, both knowing what they’ve just agreed to – both quietly pleased over the prospect.

“So, how’ve you and the kid been, anyway?”

Din’s finger hovers over the button to end the transmission. He pauses, thinks it over, then moves it away. For once, he decides to talk.

He’d never admit it to a single soul, but there were times when it got a little lonely out here.

#dincobb #din djarin x cobb vanth #the mandalorian #din djarin imagines #cobb vanth imagines #fic requests

120 notes · View notes

curiosi-tea-writes · 3 years

Text

Miles Apart (One Survivor pt. 4)

Pairing: Din Djarin / Cobb Vanth

Setting: Survivor AU / Modern AU

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Summary: After the Survivors return home, Din and Cobb have a hard time reconnecting. Thing were easier back on the island and both men have some anxieties surrounding their relationship. Either it wasn’t as destined as everyone had thought, or they have to make a relationship work long distance. But before they can make that decision, one of them has to actually start the conversation.

------------------------------

Din told himself that he wasn't going to cry when he got off the plane. But when Grogu came running towards him, he felt the tears falling before he could stop them. He knelt on the floor, letting his duffle bag drop off his shoulder as Grogu threw himself into his father's arms. Din could vaguely hear Peli's chuckle as she walked up to the pair but Din's focus was entirely on the boy in his arms. He leaned back slightly to look at his son, hands going up to adjust his green earflap cap by its strings.

"Did you get my letter, Papa?" Grogu asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"I did," Din croaked out with a nod. "I loved it so much, you have no idea."

Grogu just smiled and threw himself back into a hug with a laugh that Din couldn't help but return.

Din answered Grogu’s questions as best he could. He was painfully aware that he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone specific details of the game; alliances, vote-out order, ect. But he told him about his favourite challenges and what Jeff was like. Grogu hung on every word the entire drive home and it made Din’s heart ache. He had missed his son so much in the almost two months he had been gone, but the brightness in his eyes as Din told his stories made it all worth it.

Once Grogu had been sent upstairs to get ready for bed, Peli set a cup of coffee in front of where Din sat at the kitchen table. “I know you can’t really tell me anything,” Peli acknowledged as she sat down, “but did you have fun?”

Images of Cobb flashed through his mind. Their first kiss - holding hands - laughing at each other’s jokes late at night. Din smiled brightly at the memories. “Yeah,” he whispered, staring into his coffee. “Yeah, it was amazing.”

“Wow,” Peli laughed. “What’s that expression for?”

Din bit his lip, debating if telling her about Cobb would constitute as spoiling something about the game. He gave a soft sigh, deciding he had little chance at hiding such a thing from his friend. He looked up and met her gaze with a large smile. “I met someone.”

--------------------------------

Cobb sat in his apartment one evening, his knee bouncing harshly as he stared at his computer. It was nearing two weeks since he, and the rest of his fellow Survivors, returned back to the States. Nearly two weeks and he still hadn’t messaged Din. Given, Din hadn’t messaged him either. Communication is a two-way street but neither seemed to want to make the first move. Every evening, Cobb pulled up Din’s social media profile, his mouse hovering over the ‘message’ option. Sometimes he’d click it. He’d type out a message.

“Hey, Din, it’s Cobb,” and then erase. “How are you?” and then erase. “I miss you,” and then erase. Nothing sounded right. When Cobb sent a message, he wanted it to be perfect. But it just never was and at this point, he wasn’t sure what to do anymore.

He wanted nothing more than to talk to Din. He wanted to hear his voice, listen to that dorky laugh he gave when Cobb told a joke. He wanted to sit on his balcony looking at the stars, knowing that on the other end of the phone call was Din looking at the same stars. He wanted to feel close to him again.

He was honestly beginning to worry that maybe it wasn’t as destined as Boba and Fennec had insisted it was.

Tonight was different, though. After a truly terrible day where absolutely nothing had gone his way, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed Din. Cobb finally clicked on the ‘message’ icon. He typed out his message and sent it before he could even think about it. Just a simple, “Hey there.” And then he waited. He considered multiple times deleting the message. Goodness, he wanted to. But then he considered that perhaps Din had already read it and hadn’t had the chance to reply. If he deleted the message, it would just make things a thousand times more awkward than if he just left it.

He knew he was spiraling. He jumped up from his sofa and began pacing the apartment. He tried to busy himself. He made dinner, even managed to get himself to eat it. He cleaned his bedroom. He did the laundry. He did everything that he had been putting off for nearly two weeks. He did everything to try to not listen for the ding of his laptop. And yet, every little sound from the hallway, every noise from the street below, anything that could possibly be confused for a chime had him rushing back to his laptop. Rushing back to a screen stating he had no new messages. And every time, his heart shattered a little more.

It was getting later and later. Cobb finally set his laptop aside and headed for bed. He figured at this point that if Din was going to message back, there was little chance it would be before morning. He settled under his covers, appreciating the warmth and softness as he had every night since he returned home. But he couldn’t get his mind to slow down enough to allow him to sleep. He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, remembering laying on the beach watching the stars. He almost admitted to himself that he would take scratchy sand and icy waves hitting his feet over the comfort of his blankets if it meant being with Din again. He was finally allowing himself to drift off, even just the memory of Din settling him down enough to relax. Then-

Bing!

Cobb’s eyes shot open. His mind began to race, trying to deduce if his brain had made the sound up. He listened intently, thinking that maybe if it came from outside it would happen again and he could write it off.

Bing!

No, he knew now he was wide awake and that sound was far too familiar. He knew what it was. But then again, it could have been a message from anybody. Cobb could let the messages wait until morning. He had been so close to falling asleep.

Bing! Bing!

Cobb sighed and sat up in his bed, staring out his doorway towards his living room where his laptop still sat on the coffee table. Even if it was Din, he couldn’t blame Cobb for not answering. He had let Cobb pace his apartment for hours and now so late at night he expected him to reply?

Bing!

“Fine,” Cobb muttered to himself, throwing off his blankets and making his way slowly to his laptop. He opened it and was met with the lovely icon of Din’s profile picture. Him and a little blonde-haired boy in a green hat that Cobb knew had to be Grogu. He had half the mind to close his laptop, just happy knowing that Din had acknowledged him, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I am so sorry!”

“Grogu isn’t feeling well tonight and it’s been non-stop

sitting with him since he got home from school.”

“You’re probably in bed.”

“I miss you….”

“I love you.”

Cobb felt tears form in his eyes, angry at himself for ever considering being angry with Din. Of course he had to be taking care of his son, Cobb should have considered that.

“It’s alright. I hope Grogu is doing better.”

“I miss you too….and I love you too.”

His knee was back to bouncing. He watched as Din’s icon showed three thought bubbles bouncing beside it. He wasn’t sure how long Din had typed for, how many different messages he typed and erased. But when the message came through, he couldn’t respond quickly enough.

“I know it’s late. But I miss your voice so much.

These last two weeks have been miserable not

talking to you. Grogu is out for the night. Can we

video call?”

“Absolutely!”

Cobb didn’t even let the first chime of the call ring before answering. The smile that broke across his face was the brightest he had ever given anyone in his life. He had never been more happy to see anyone, even just over video.

Din was laying on his side on his bed, his arm tucked under his head. He was wearing a dark blue hoodie with only the few curls that fell in his face visible from under the hood. “Hey there, Cowboy,” Din whispered.

“Hey there.” It was all Cobb could get out and Din couldn’t blame him. Even he hadn’t thought through what to say once they got to this point. Two weeks and all either could get out was a greeting.

“I’m sorry,” they both spoke. They stopped short, chuckling at each other and themselves. Din’s smile brightened seeing Cobb’s. He had missed that smile more than anything.

Cobb sighed, his smile faltering. “I thought maybe you had changed your mind.” He stared down at his hands, trying to ignore that his leg was itching to bounce again. He pressed the palm of his hand against his knee, trying to make it not so noticeable. “I should have messaged you sooner.”

Din let a soft chuckle escape his lips. “I was having the same thoughts.” He bit his lip as Cobb lifted his gaze, a hint of pain in his eyes. “I suppose we should have decided who would start the conversation, huh?”

They both laughed and the hurt in Cobb’s eyes faded, replaced with something so light and full of love that Din just wanted to take him in his arms and hold him as tight as he physically could. But both men were painfully aware of the two states that prevented them from that.

Cobb lowered the screen of his laptop and moved it closer to the edge of the coffee table. He shifted to mirror Din’s position, stretching himself out across the sofa, arm tucked under him. He smiled brightly at Din and his heart leapt as Din returned the smile.

Din realized that with Cobb’s new potion, if he focused his eyes just right, he could almost pretend they were laying together. Close enough to touch To hold. To kiss. Din’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, wondering how long it would be before they could lay like this for real with only an inch gap between them and he’d be able to lean in and remind Cobb through more than words how much he misses him. He wanted to run his fingers through Cobb’s hair. Wanted to feel the chill of Cobb’s nose against his own as they rested their foreheads together. Wanted to feel the weight of Cobb’s head on his chest when they finally decided to fall asleep, wondering if he could hear how fast his heart was beating.

“I love you,” Cobb whispered, prompting Din to return his mind to the present time.

Din smiled brightly. “I love you too.” He shifted a little on his bed and cleared his throat. “Listen. I know these two weeks have been rough- well, they were for me at least. But I don’t want to give up on this. I meant what I had said back on the island. I’m all in.”

Cobb gave a soft chuckle, letting Din finish his tangent, wishing he could silence both his words and his mind with a brush of his lips against Din’s. Once he heard Din take a breath he smiled softly. “I know. You’re not getting rid of me so easily.” He paused as Din laughed at his own words repeated back to him. “We’ll make it work.”

“Yeah,” Din sighed happily. “We’ll make it work.”

--------------------------------------

Video calls became a regular event. Nearly every night they would lay on their beds, laptops open next to them, mirroring each other’s positions as if they were in person.

One late night while chuckling at a joke Cobb had told, Din jumped as he heard a soft knock on his partly closed door. Grogu apologized as he crawled up into his dad's bed, giving Cobb a shy smile as he came into the view of the camera.

"So this is the little frog monster I've heard so much about?" Cobb said with a grin. It was the first time Cobb had gotten the chance to meet Grogu. Up until this moment, he had been shown pictures and videos but they always video called so late at night that Grogu was always already asleep.

Grogu perked up at the sound of Cobb's voice and grinned up at Din before turning excitedly to the computer. "Are you a cowboy?"

Cobb and Din both laughed and Din ruffled Grogu's hair. Din had already told Cobb to expect this from the kid but actually hearing it was so much funnier than he had imagined. The three of them settled in, now fully awake, for a long night on video call.

-------------------------------------

In the weeks leading up to the airing of the first episode, Cobb found himself incredibly nervous. He was excited to see the season come together despite having lived it, but a part of him also didn’t want to watch it. Or he supposed, maybe he didn’t want Din to watch it.

“So, Grogu and I will leave on Tuesday and we’ll be there by Thursday morning, is that good?” Din looked up from his calendar when Cobb didn’t give him a response. “Cobb,” he prompted, shifting the mic on his headphones to make sure his voice was being picked up.

Cobb snapped out of his thoughts and brought his gaze back to the computer screen. “Sorry, what?”

Din gave a soft, nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You still want me and Grogu to come visit to watch the first episode together, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Cobb said quickly. “Sorry, I was just-,” he trailed off with a laugh and a wave of his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Din set the calendar aside and shifted to face the laptop fully.

Cobb scratched the back of his neck. “Why do you think something’s wrong?” ‘Not a lie, just an avoidance,’ he told himself.

“Because I know you,” Din said simply. “Are you worried about watching the season?”

Cobb sighed heavily, knowing that he couldn’t avoid it forever. “It’s just,” he sighed, “we weren’t together in the beginning. I had twenty days on a different island than you. You only saw me at challenges. You have no idea what I was like at camp.” He took a deep breath, watching Din’s eyes turn from strong concern to understanding. “I don’t think I did anything particularly bad. But I’m worried you’re going to see something and-”

“And something would change,” Din filled in. He watched Cobb nod and offered him a soft smile. “I’ve had the same concerns for you seeing me during that time. But nothing is going to change. I love you for who you are regardless of anything you did or said during those twenty days.” Din paused for a second, his smile dropping. “I have to ask, though-”

Cobb tilted his head at Din’s sudden mood change. “What?”

“Are you-” Din sighed, dropping his gaze. “Are you really concerned about those twenty days? Or more concerned about day thirty-eight?”

Cobb had to admit that Din was observant. Of course he was, he knew Cobb better than anyone. “Of course I’m worried about day thirty-eight,” he whispered, the words barely picked up by the mic. “It was one of the weakest moments of my life, I don’t want you to see that.”

Din brought his eyes back up, the hurt in them unmistakable. “Cobb, nothing about what you went through was weak. If anything, I think it shows you’re so much stronger than most people give you credit for.”

“Thank you,” Cobb mumbled. He let Din’s eyes through the screen, recognizing an unfinished thought. He knew Din wasn’t going to state it on his own. He was about to prompt Din to state what was on his mind when the answer came to his own. He tilted his head again, a mixture of sadness and love filling his chest. “You’re worried about day thirty-eight too, aren’t you?”

Din scoffed half-heartedly, the smallest amount of tears pricking his eyes. “Of course I am. I still feel a little responsible for what happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Din,” Cobb assured. “It was only my own for not taking better care of myself. I knew what I signed up for when I agreed to go to that island. I knew it could happen.”

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t have,” Din mumbled.

“Who knows,” Cobb stated, perking up a little. “Maybe people will like me and they’ll put me on an all-star season. I could have a chance to redeem myself.”

Din laughed. “You would really go back?”

“A second chance at a million bucks?” Cobb scoffed out. “Wouldn’t you?”

Din shook his head, though his smile didn’t falter. “I couldn’t leave Grogu again like that. It was too rough.” Cobb nodded understandingly. “I would totally support you though if you wanted to go again.”

Cobb smiled brightly. “I appreciate that.” The two men stared at each other, both wishing they were together in the moment. ‘Soon,’ Cobb reminded himself. “So,” Cobb stated happily. “You boys are leaving there on Tuesday?”

-----------------------------------

Din turned around in the driver’s seat to tap Grogu’s leg gently. “Hey, Kid, we’re here,” he spoke just above a whisper. It was late Wednesday night and they had just pulled up in front of Cobb’s apartment building. Din had planned it perfectly to surprise Cobb with an extra night of them being there. He knew it was pushing it a little to show up a whole twelve hours early, but he also knew Cobb didn’t mind surprises. Grogu grumbled in the back seat and Din chuckled. “Alright, Kid. Have it your way,” he sighed, opening the door, knowing there was little chance Grogu would wake enough to walk at this point.

He carefully got his son out of the car, adjusting him to rest his head on Din’s shoulder. He mumbled a few sleepy words before resuming his soft snores, now right next to Din’s ear. Din got their duffle bag out of the trunk and tried not to jostle Grogu too much as he situated it on his shoulder.

Looking up at the apartment building before him, Din let out a small but happy sigh. So long of only seeing Cobb through a computer screen and in just a few minutes he was finally going to have him in his arms again. It was almost too good to be real.

----------------------------------

Cobb lifted his head at the sound of knocking from the apartment hallway. He was almost certain it was for his neighbors until he heard it again. He set down the blankets he had been folding for when Din and Grogu got there and placed them neatly on the sofa before making his way to the door. The first words he had planned to come out of his mouth were something along the lines of, “Do you know how late it is,” but upon actually opening it, his voice fell short.

“Hey there, Cowboy,” Din spoke softly with a large grin. “Surprise.”

Cobb stood there for a minute, smiling but in shock. He ran through multiple responses in his head, trying to find the right ones to say. But every word he thought of wasn’t good enough because the man he loved was standing at his door a whole twelve hours before he was supposed to be. Finally, Cobb gave up on his words and leaned forward quickly to capture Din’s lips softly with his own.

The kiss was warm and sweet but short. Both men were fully aware of Grogu still in Din’s arms, completely oblivious to the fact that the two men were finally reunited.

“I missed you,” Cobb whispered, resting his forehead against Din’s, smiling brightly. “Come on,” Cobb ushered Din inside. “Little guy’s probably completely dead weight right now.” He made quick work of arranging the sofa with the blankets he had just been working on. He waited patiently as Din set the child down and covered him with the blankets before taking the duffle bag off of his shoulder and setting it on the floor.

Din took Cobb’s hand and pulled him away from the sleeping boy, only a few feet, before pulling him in quickly for another kiss, his arms wrapping tightly around Cobb’s waist. Cobb’s hands came up to rest on the back of Din’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer. They only held it for a second before pulling back, letting their lips ghost over each other. “I miss you so much.”

Cobb hummed out a laugh. “Did you miss me or my kisses?” Cobb whispered.

“Both,” Din mumbled before pressing their lips back together.

That night both men held each other as tightly as they could, as if trying to convince themselves that they were actually together. As if the other would disappear if they let go even for a second. Cobb laid his head on Din’s chest for the first time in four months and he couldn’t think of any place he would rather be. It was perfect.

-----------------------------

“Papa, don’t forget the popcorn,” Grogu called as he settled onto the sofa.

Din chuckled as he pulled the bag from the microwave. Cobb moved past him to pull a bowl out of the cupboard next to him. “So, I should warn you,” Din laughed softly. “Grogu and I do this thing-”

Cobb was already laughing. “Oh good, do I finally get to know something embarrassing about you?” He handed the bowl to Din and he leaned against the counter as he started to pour the popcorn into it. “What’s up? I promise I won’t judge.”

“Grogu and I, uhm,” Din paused and laughed, shaking his head. “You know the regular lines that Jeff says. Like, ‘The tribe has spoken,’ ‘Come on in, guys,’ ‘If anyone has the hidden immunity idol, now is the time to play it,’ all those?” Cobb nodded, his grin wide but confusion clear in his eyes. “Right, well. Grogu and I tend to say the lines with him. I’ve been told it can get a little annoying so I wanted to warn you beforehand.”

Cobb shook his head with a chuckle, taking a step around Din to wrap his arms around him from behind. “That’s not annoying at all, Darlin’. I think it’s sweet.” He placed a soft kiss to Din’s shoulder. “Whoever told you it was annoying clearly doesn’t appreciate the two hundred words Jeff says on repeat.”

“He’s in therapy, he says them so often,” Din laughed out, referencing a line from a past season that Jeff had stated himself. He leaned into Cobb’s embrace and smiled, letting his eyes fall closed. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” Cobb spoke against his shoulder. He reached out and took a piece of popcorn, putting it into his mouth. “Come on,” he laughed. “Episode’s about to start.” Cobb turned but only got two steps away from Din before stopping in his tracks, a wave of anxiety rushing over him. His brain filled only with thoughts of what could possibly go wrong with the season they were about to begin. Din’s hand on his arm brought him back enough for Cobb to let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Hey,” Din whispered, running his hand along Cobb’s arm. “It’s going to be fine. Nothing’s going to change.”

Cobb nodded, swallowing hard, attempting to will his brain to stop screaming at himself. He took a deep breath and followed Din into the living room and found his spot at the edge of the sofa. He leaned forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table to turn up the volume as Din took his spot between Cobb and Grogu, passing his son the bowl of popcorn. Cobb felt Din’s arm wrap around his back, pulling him closer and he leaned into the embrace. Din hummed, prompting Cobb to turn and face him, tilting his head just slightly.

“Got my boy, the love of my life, and my favorite show about to start,” Din spoke softly as Jeff began his spiel about the filming location of the season and the stories of a handful of players. He wrapped his other arm around Grogu’s shoulders and the boy happily scooted closer to his father. Din turned to Cobb with a large smile. “Can’t get much better than this.”

Cobb leaned his head on Din’s shoulder, and sighed happily. No matter what he did during the time before the merge and no matter if he still thought himself weak for having to be evaced, one thing was for certain. He knew Din loved him. And he knew that nothing from the season they were starting was going to change that.

“They must learn to adapt, or they will be voted out,” Jeff spoke on the show. Cobb saw Grogu perk up slightly, excitement written clear on his face. “Thirty-nine days, sixteen people-”

“One Survivor!” Din and Grogu called along with Jeff, laughing. All Cobb could do was laugh with them.

#dincobb #din x cobb #marshalorian #marshmando #din djarin #cobb vanth #the mandalorian #star wars #survivor au #modern au #Han writes

6 notes · View notes