din djarin x reader imagines

far from over

from mandadoration on archiveofourown

Scared isn't quite the word you're looking for.

Anticipatory? Nervous? High-strung?

Whatever it is, you can't help but fiddle with the soft furs you're laying on, tensing and relaxing your grip as Din runs his hands up and down your legs. Your nerves are haywire. Everything feels too much, too fast. Your heart is in your throat, and if it weren't Din's grounding grip, you're sure you would've been bouncing your legs in an effort to externalize how you were feeling. You never understood how people were able to just... hide what they were thinking. Sure, Mandalorian had their helmets and you had your social conventions, but you always found a way to externalize it, whether it be picking at your nails or pacing or--

"Relax," he soothes. His hands are bare, coarse and rough against the otherwise smoother skin of your leg, but his helmet is still on. It makes you a little nervous knowing that you can't quite tell what he's thinking, but it's sweet to see him trying to calm you down. It helps a little, you suppose, knowing that this feared and respected clan leader was making the effort to make sure you're relaxed. He doesn't show this side often, you know, instead favoring the stoic, almost scary mask he puts on to make sure power-hungry people stay in line and know their place.

He's always been soft with you. Eager, yes, his touches burn and always leave you wanting more despite how he tells you to wait, to be patient and always "be a good girl", but he's still soft. Din shows it in how he brings trinkets for the younglings and small tokens and gifts for his wives whenever he goes off-world, bringing back stories that he reluctantly tells in order to convince too-rowdy children to go to bed. But still, you've seen his firmer hand, that non-argumentative tone that demands to be listened to.

Just not to you.

Perhaps it's because he knows you've always been scared of him to some degree. Treading ever-so carefully around him, looking to the older, more seasoned wives to see what you should be doing, how you're reluctant to accept gifts-- you've just never been fully comfortable around him. You hope everytime he doesn't get offended by it, no matter how many times others reassure you. But doubt still lingers. It's just that Din is so... unflappable, sometimes to the point you really wonder if he's human, if there's some other aspect that let's him keep going and pushing forward despite the complexities of Mandalorian politics and dealing with his clan. It's admirable, really, you respect him and he's so deserving of the sway he holds, but the line between fear and respect is blurred. You think that if you were in his place, you would've crumpled under the weight and responsibility.

You've been so stuck in your head that you don't even realize how Din gently pulled you to the edge of the bed, slowly unlacing the bodice of your gown in slow, delicate movements that's almost unbecoming of him. It's a beautiful thing, specially made for this moment, carefully sewn and dyed by the elder wives in Djarin Clan colors, with your previous clan's colors accented throughout. But now it seems too hot, too coarse and too stifling. Too, too, too. That seems to be the theme for tonight. You let out a sigh of relief when the dress loosens. Even if it wasn't that tight to begin with, you breathe a little easier.

"Where did you go?" Din asks you, when your eyes finally focus on the reflective beskar of his helmet. His hands are still running over you. You blink.

"Huh?"

He lets out a short huff of laughter, and runs his thumb over your collarbone, pushing your gown to the sides to expose your chest. You're so caught off guard that you can't even feel shy about it. What did he mean by, Where did you go? Din wasn't really the one to be cryptic, more so blunt and straight-forward. "You always seem to... go somewhere." He reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of your face before going back to brush his hands over you. "When you think."