Din Djarin/Mando/The Mandalorian: One Shots, Imagines, etc.

Thank You

A/N: requested by Ghost_Guard_13 - healthy dose of Din Doesn't-Know-What-To-Do-When-Hugged Djarin

Warnings: alcohol, violence, swearing, blood, the feels at the end are kinda painful,

Word count: 1202

You wouldn't be in this gods awful situation if it wasn't for that bar fight you got into. You'd just stopped by for a quick drink and you'd managed to attract the attention of a group of Rodians who had been a little too interested and far too persistent. You managed to escape before they overwhelmed you, but currently, you're sporting a large gash down your right thigh from a dirty viroblade, various bruises along your ribs, and a stinging split lip. Normally, injuries like this aren't a problem for you - your tolerance for pain is high after years of running - and you've already cleaned them up as best as you can, but these aren't normal circumstances.

Because, right now, there's a Mandalorian after you.

And your thigh is far too close to giving way.

Skidding around a corner, you throw your hands out to brace yourself against the wall before you start running again, scrambling over loose crates as you desperately draw air into your lungs with harsh, rasping pants. You glance down and your breath hitches in horror and pain as you realise the bandage around your right leg is already soaked through with blood. Blurring around you, your vision swirls with black dots, and you barely catch yourself before you crash to the ground. Ribs aching, leg shooting bolts of pain through you, you drag yourself forward, driven by the need to get away, the pressing knowledge that if he catches you, your freedom and all you stand for will be ripped away from you.

There's a sound, and you whirl around, gasping as your ribs twinge, and see him.

Right there, behind you, blaster pointed between your eyes.

You know he won't miss.

'I can bring you in warm, or I can - '
You roll your eyes at him, ignoring the fact you're pretty sure you're going to collapse any second. 'Heard that one last time we met. Before I escaped. Again.'
He cocks his head. 'You're injured.'
'And?'
'And, I'm taking you in.'

You make it one step away before he's right in front of you, cuffing your hands behind your back and grabbing your shoulder gently to push you ahead of him. Gritting your teeth, you limp forward, and you know without looking over at him that he's cocking his head, contemplating whether to carry you or not.

'Don't,' you snarl. 'Let me hold onto a shred of my dignity, at least.'

He doesn't answer, just letting you walk yourself, and you're grateful for his silence as he walks you back to his ship. You know he's going to take you back to Nevarro - there were a few times where you hadn't been able to escape before he got you onto his ship, and you'd only managed to get away by ambushing Greef Karga with a hit to the face with the cuffs around your wrists, or with a quick diversion and the help of some kindly locals. You weren't injured that time. The journey is a few days, and you know that you won't be able to escape in your current shape. And once the Empire gets their hands on you, there's no way you're getting out of their grip.

Mando nudges you into the cockpit, and you sit down in the co - pilot's seat as normal. Ignoring the pain in your ribs, you hug yourself and close your eyes as he lifts off, punching in the coordinates for Nevarro. The silence in the small room becomes pressing, pushing down on you until you open your mouth, desperate to say something.

'Do you know you're working for the Empire?' You spit.
He shrugs. 'They pay.'
'Fucking bucket head,' you mutter, pissed off by his apparent lack of sympathy.
He turns around. 'Alright, then. Why have they put such a big bounty on you head?'

Your mouth snaps shut. Memories flash before your eyes; blood on small hands, a slippery knife, piercing screams, sprinting down disorientating alleyways, white, grinning helmets. Turning away, you stare out of the window into hyperspace, digging your fingernails into your elbow where your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, holding yourself because there's no one else left to hold you.

Mando is quiet, giving you the choice to speak or not. Your lower lip trembles slightly when you open your mouth, so you press it shut again and clench your teeth. You are not crying in front of this Mandalorian. No matter how well you know him after hours spent in this cockpit, you don't want him to see you as weak, like the rest. Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath.

'I was seven. They killed my parents, then my older brother when he went to defend them. I... I found a knife, and I killed one of them. It wouldn't have been a problem, but - but he was high up, too high up to be ignored. So, they went after me. And then I got caught up in the Rebel Alliance, and the bounty on my head increased.' You sniffle, swiping at your eyes. 'I won't stop. I won't ever stop. They took all I had from me, and - ' You falter. ' - and maybe they'll take my life, too.'

A sob sticks in your throat, and you hug your legs to your chest, wincing as pain shoots through your thigh, but you need to hide yourself from him, hide the grief that stings as much as it did the day your family was taken. Burying your face in your arms, you bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as you force your breathing to be regular.

'They took my - my parents too,' he says quietly, and you raise your head, surprised by the deep sadness in his voice. 'I was saved by the Mandalorians. They took me in. They were my family.' He's quiet for a moment, before he speaks again. 'I - I haven't spoken about them for years.'

You don't say anything. You physically can't, because he's exposed his heart to you, shown you what's underneath all of the layers he's built around himself like a fortress. Hesitantly, you reach out, grabbing his fingers and squeezing them. He squeezes back before slipping his hand from yours to start tapping at buttons on the dash.

His voice is breathless when he speaks. 'I'm taking you to Sorgan. You can lay low there.'
You let your tears fall then. 'Thank you. Th - thank you so much. That means a - a lot to me.'
'Mhm.' He's trembling. You see it when he stands, heading for the cockpit door, but you intercept him on the way.
'Hey,' you whisper. 'Thank you.'

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around him, and his breathing stutters, hands fluttering over you awkwardly before they settle on you, one on the small of your back and the other at the nape of your neck. Nestling your face into his neck, you find yourself closing your eyes, relaxing into him as his hold on you becomes more confident. Tilting his head, he leans his chin on your head, and you feel his trembling lessen until it stops, but he doesn't let go of you.

'No,' he says. 'Thank you.'

also yall look i copied a picture of him on the internet and used my sister's ipad :)