Sep 9, 2022
This was supposed to be for day 1 (Sharing/Living Arrangements) for @dincobbweek but I got very busy and couldn’t finish it until now.
Cobb is coming home from work 🥰
seen from United States
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seen from Indonesia
seen from South Africa
seen from Maldives
seen from Russia
seen from France
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
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seen from Norway
seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from United States
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This was supposed to be for day 1 (Sharing/Living Arrangements) for @dincobbweek but I got very busy and couldn’t finish it until now.
Cobb is coming home from work 🥰
DINCOBB WEEK 2022 THEMES
We’re happy to announce the themes for DinCobb Week 2022! NSFW themes will be placed under the cut.
Day 1 - Sharing/Living Arrangements
Day 2 - Mand’alor!Din
Day 3 - Soulmates
Day 4 - Force Sensitivity
Day 5 - Language/Cultural Barriers
Day 6 - First Experiences
Day 7 - AU/Freebie
Reminder that the week takes place from September 4th - 10th! We can’t wait to see what you guys create from this. Feel free to reach out in our inbox or on discord if you have any questions.
NSFW Themes
Day 1 - Sleepy/Morning sex
Day 2 - First Times
Day 3 - Emotional/freebie
Day 4 - Make outs/like teens again
Day 5 - Sex in unusual locations
Day 6 - Hickies
Day 7 - Lingerie
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.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It’s DinCobb Week! Thanks @dincobbweek for putting this all together.
I’ll be posting fic each day related to the themes. You’ll just have to stick around and find out if I dip into the NSFW prompts or not.
DinCobb Week Day 1 - Clan of Three
The soft wail stirred the whole house.
Din’s eyes forced themselves open, blinking against the dim light, and for a moment he was utterly disoriented. It took another moment for the sound of a crying child to register, and then the arms that were wrapped tight around his waist. A soft and wakeful sound came by his ear as Cobb shifted. Then the arms tightened further and a scratchy beard pressed to the back of his shoulder.
“Mmmph.”
“Need ‘t… up,” Din muttered, his voice hoarse from sleep. He pried Cobb’s arm off from his waist and pushed up, then batted back the sleepy attempts at getting him back. “A second.”
“Ugh.”
It was early. Din rubbed at his eyes and glanced out the front entrance of their home, but the suns weren’t even presenting themselves yet, barely a sliver of light on the horizon. The stars twinkled above instead. With a sigh, he walked to the child’s room, and where the sound grew louder and louder.
“Kid…”
Grogu continued to wail, even at the sight of Din. Instead, his shuddering gasps became desperate whimpers and he stood with his hands grasping at the bars of his crib. “Pada!” he cried, a garbled and growl-like sound. “Aba--”
“I’m here.”
Din swept the child up into his arms, and Grogu pushed into his chest as though his life depended on it. He trembled and shook as he cried, big wet tears falling, and Din let out a soft sigh before tucking the boy’s head beneath his chin. Little hands grasped at his collar and around his neck as Grogu tried to get as close as he could. Din turned and started back towards the bedroom, and as he stepped through, the light was turned on.
“Nightmare?” Cobb muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“They’re vivid for him.” Din sat on the edge of the bed, whimpering child cradled, until Cobb patted Din’s side of the bed. Din pushed himself back and with sleepy eyes, Cobb turned to face them, arm slipping around Din’s waist. He tugged him in closer.
“What’s got you scared?” Cobb asked, voice thick this early. He reached out to run his fingers over Grogu’s back.
Hallway. Men in white. One in black. Afraid. Afraid. Alone. So, so alone.
Din drew in a sharp breath, the feeling settling throughout his entire body. He squeezed his eyes shut and held Grogu tighter as his own guilt began to seep in. Cobb looked up at him with furrowed brows, “Din?”, and Din only shook his head.
“When Gideon had him,” he whispered.
Cobb sat up. “Did he show you that?” he whispered back. “Your… bond. Force bond.”
Din took another breath, startled by the image appearing in his mind’s eye at all. He still struggled to conceptualize exactly what existed between him and the child -- this… relationship, that Din couldn’t see or feel, until Grogu wanted him to. What the jedi had described as a forceful but loving attachment to Din, one-sided but powerful. And since Gideon’s cruiser, Grogu had decided to use this bond to its fullest.
Telepathy that only worked as long as Grogu wanted to listen, for starters.
“I think so.” At his words, Cobb slipped both arms around Din, and Din let himself lean into his lover. Grogu began to calm down. Still shaking and sniffling, but calmer. They sat together in a small group until the suns began to warm the air.
“C’mere,” Cobb murmured.
Grogu was hesitant to let go of Din. Even for Cobb. But the baby looked at Cobb, then made a soft noise and looked up at Din. Din smiled and nodded, and finally Grogu let go, reaching out for Cobb. Cobb took him with ease and the kid burrowed against his shoulder with claws digging into Cobb’s shirt.
“I’ve got you, too.” Cobb stroked his fingers over Grogu’s head. “I’m just as scary as your Daddy, huh?”
Grogu settled against Cobb with his face nuzzled into Cobb’s collar. Din managed a smile, but it faded. The vision left him more shaken than he wanted to admit. He didn’t want to be back there, either. He didn’t want to think of being on that cruiser, held in place by a Dark Trooper and—
“Hey.” Cobb tugged him in close. Din slumped into him. “I know. It hurts you, too.”
Din drew in a breath. “I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t—“
“You’re the reason he’s safe now.” Cobb reached for his hand. “The reason you’re both here. With me. Exactly where you should be.”
Din drew in a breath. He looked up at Cobb, who cupped his cheek before pressing into a soft kiss. Din shut his eyes and leaned in, for a moment letting himself melt into the kiss, until Cobb parted. He pressed another to Din’s forehead. And when Grogu let out a whine, Cobb chuckled and pressed one to the top of his head, too. “Not forgettin’ you.”
“Thanks,” Din whispered.
Cobb stole another kiss, this one quicker, before he began to get up. “Nothin’ chases bad dreams away like some good breakfast, kid,” he said. “If you learn anything from me, it should be that.”
Din smiled as he watched them leave. The kid gave a happier squeak, beginning to babble, and they disappeared from the bedroom and into the kitchen. For a moment Din sat alone in bed and listened as Cobb started breakfast. Their same routine, seamlessly adjusting to Grogu’s nightmare, continued on.
He wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.
As delicious spiced scents began to waft in, Din got up to join the rest of his clan.
DinCobb Week 2022
Hey there! It’s been a while!
DinCobb Week 2021 was a wonderful event and we’d love to do it this year as well. Our event week may be September again. But before planning anything, we’d like to gauge interest in the event. So, if you could, please like, reblog, or respond to this post if you’re interested in DinCobb Week 2022!
Thanks, Mod Team @swfandomevents
DinCobb Week Themes
We’re happy to announce the themes for DinCobb Week 2021! NSFW themes will be placed under the cut.
Day 1 - Clan of Three
Day 2 - Hurt/Comfort
Day 3 - New Experiences
Day 4 - AU / Freebie Day
Day 5 - Sharing Culture
Day 6 - Water
Day 7 - Alternate First Meeting
Reminder that the week takes place from September 19th - 25th! We can’t wait to see what you guys create from this. Feel free to reach out in our inbox or on discord if you have any questions.
NSFW Themes
Day 1 - Praise
Day 2 - Discovering Kinks
Day 3 - Blindfolds
Day 4 - Emotional
Day 5 - Clothing (lace/armor/lingerie)
Day 6 - Quiet
Day 7 - Sensory Play
Dincobb Week Day 1 - Clan of Three (SFW)
Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!
For today I have two pieces, an SFW and an NSFW - the NSFW is scheduled to post an hour after this one.
Clan of Three
Every clan, if you think about it, must once have been just two people. A couple, or a parent and a child. A point at which someone stopped being alone, or chose to branch out from their clan of origin, and something new began.
Their situation is not really abnormal, it’s just unfamiliar. And sometimes you’ll be able to identify the moment of change or of beginning, it will be official, with the blessing of a trusted authority… but sometimes one thing will gradually blend into another and you’ll only be able to say that it has changed after it’s well established. You’ll have to recognise it for yourself.
For Din that moment of recognition comes in the middle of… nothing special. It’s a hot afternoon. They’re staying inside where it’s shady and closer to cool. He’s just coming out of the kitchen with the glass of iced tea Cobb asked him for. Cobb is sitting on the floor with Grogu sitting in the nest of his crossed legs, long and bare in the old shorts he changed into after the morning’s work. They have a picture book laid open on the floor in front of them and Cobb is reading to Grogu, changing his voice for the different characters.
“And so the lonely Wookiee growled, ‘Oh no! Oh my! I don’t know what to do!’ and — ow! Hey, you little ratbag.” Grogu’s little clawed hand had been resting on his shin, idly playing with his leg hair, and he just pinched a few strands together and pulled them. Grogu giggles as Cobb growls again, giving his best (very inauthentic but spirited) imitation of a Wookiee, wraps his arms round him and blows a raspberry on top of his head. That makes him squeal and laugh, which gets him another raspberry. “What am I gonna do with you?” Cobb asks. “Anyway,” and he resumes reading the story.
You are as its father. It’s been a long time since then, and he would politely but firmly correct anyone who called Grogu it, but those words set him on this path, and now he knows he’s not on it alone. Just when and how Cobb became a father to Grogu too, he’s unable to say, even as he looks back over the months they’ve lived together. There was no moment of blessing, only patience and kindness and growing trust and reliance. There’s no ritual or ceremony, no symbolic gift to confer membership in the clan. Cobb is part of it already. Din needs to sit down.
He keeps that thought to himself for a while. In a way, he’s treasuring it; but in another way, it troubles or at least puzzles him. He wouldn’t have expected to feel satisfied by something so informal and it seems disloyal not to feel a need to formalise things properly according to creed and tradition. Those things still matter to him, they matter deeply, they’re at the foundation of who he is and tries to be, but perhaps it’s because they don’t apply to Cobb in the same way. Cobb respects his beliefs, no question, and he tries to understand and support them, but Din suspects he’s never going to ask what one needs to do to convert. He looks sometimes at Cobb’s new armour (second-hand gear still, but they’re restoring and improving it together) and thinks about where on it would be a good spot for a mudhorn stencil. Would it be okay to go that far? Informally, but symbolically?
Grogu’s crayon drawings are getting more assured, and he frequently draws the three of them as a group, smiles so wide they come off the sides of their faces (he just draws a smile onto the front of Din’s helmet to make it clear he’s happy). There’s a symbol for you. He used to stick close to Din when they all walked somewhere together, regardless of where Cobb was, but now he always toddles along between them, and he loves if it they each reach down and grab one of his hands and lift him up and give him a swing back and forth. He squeals and giggles — and that’s another thing, since they’ve been living with Cobb he’s noticed more and more laughter from Grogu. He was never really a timid kid, despite everything he’d gone through before Din found him, but he’s become noticeably more confident and exuberant, and Din has to think it’s from having a settled, comfortable home with not one but two people who love him and also love each other. Cobb encourages that side of him; they’ve settled into roles where Din is generally the more calm and gentle parent, Cobb the more playful one. Din is more likely to rock Grogu to sleep; Cobb is more likely to bounce him in the air. When Grogu gets really mischievous and Din is exasperated but still amused, he’ll accuse Cobb of teaching him to be a gremlin, and Cobb will laugh back and say that’s all you can expect from a Tatooine feral.
They’re in bed one very early morning when they both wake to the sound of a thump followed by little scuttling footsteps in the kitchen. Cobb groans quietly and snuggles up to Din’s back as they both listen drowsily for any sounds of disaster demanding action. There’s a wooden clatter — that sounded like the broomstick falling over. Then a strange sound kind of like rain that has Din baffled until he starts to suspect it’s dry spaghetti falling on a tiled floor.
“Your son’s getting into some shit,” Cobb mumbles.
Din thinks about how comfortable he is right now and how dark it still is outside. He’s a dutiful parent, but he’s human, and he’s not in this alone any more. “Before sunrise,” he mumbles back, “he’s your son.”
There’s a moment’s quiet, and he wonders if he overstepped by saying that. In the kitchen, there’s a sound he’d tentatively identify as an egg breaking on the floor. Cobb grumbles and puts a kiss on his shoulder, and whispers, “I want your clean-out-the-fridge fried rice for dinner.” Then he rolls over, gets out of bed and shuffles off, bare feet whispering on the floor. Din rolls on his back, stretches out his legs, and listens for the sounds of two of his clan of three.