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

Never Have To Go Back There

A/N: requested by sadstrarwarsfan14 - i did not mean to make this my venting ground about misogyny but it happened anyway what can i say

Warnings: swearing, abuse, violence, toxic relationships, some asshole misogynist, mentions of sex, alcohol,

Word count: 1366 (first draft was over word goal already?!?!? a new record for a person whose main ingredient is writer's block)

You hate that you're here again.

You stand outside their front door, wishing Din was here, but he's off on a hunt, which is actually why you decided to come here. You're pretty sure that if Din sees your father one more time he won't be able to keep himself in check, which would result in an injured and angry father and an even more angry Mandalorian.

And yet you wish he was here anyway, because you'd rather that than come here alone.

You're only here to check on your mother. Check meaning trying to persuade her to leave your fucking father because he's an asshole. Check meaning trying to persuade her that she's not abandoning any wifely duties by leaving his harsh insults and harsher slaps behind her. Check meaning trying to persuade her to leave because he's not good for her, not good for anyone.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand to knock on the door, but it's already opened; your mother stands there, a wobbly grin on her face as she pulls you into a hug. You can feel how frail she is, and it makes you seethe. Over her shoulder, you see your father approach, a bottle of spotchka in his hand and a violent smile on his face.

'I see you've come back home again,' he says. 'Have you finally realised that you shouldn't have married that lump of metal you call your husband?'

You release your mother and hand her a basket of food behind your back which she can eat while you and your father argue. She squeezes your hand and slips out into the side room, and you take a step towards your father, hands clenched into fists.

'Oh, and who do you want me to marry instead? Because I'd take him any day over any man you recommend, because he's going to be like you.'

Your father scoffs. 'Well, at least he'd teach you how to shut up and act like a woman!'

'Don't talk to me like that,' you spit. 'Don't tell me how to act. Don't tell me how to speak, or how to not speak, or how to stand or sit, because you think I should listen because you're my father and I'm just a fucking woman! I'm not here for you, you know! I'm here for the poor woman who is my mother who you treat like a fucking slave, who you disregard, who you - '

'Shut your mouth!'

You fold your arms, suddenly ice cold. 'And why should I listen to you, old man? Because I think if you want my respect you've got to earn it.'

'I don't owe you anything!' Your father screeches, stepping forward and grabbing a fistful of your shirt. 'Listen, you little bitch! I am your father, and it is your duty to do what you are told! Your duty to do what I say!'

He raises his hand, and suddenly you're a little girl again, watching through the crack of the door as your father slaps your mother so hard across the face that she spits blood. Except this time, you're in her place, and you're helpless against this man. You flinch away, cold fear shooting through you as you see the hand raised, threatening to hit you, threatening to treat you as a thing not a human, and you can't bear it, can't deal with the violence in his eyes -

You shove him so hard in the chest that he staggers back and crashes into the wall. Your face twists into a disgusted sneer, but even then, your hands are trembling as you watch him catch himself against the door frame.

'Don't you ever fucking touch me again,' you snarl, before stepping into the side room and grabbing your mother's hand and tugging her out of the house.

You slam the door behind you and it's then that you let down your facade, then that you pull your mother into your arms and hold her. Silent tears streaming down your face, you squeeze her tight, remembering when it was just you and her when your father had left for work, remembering the relief that shot through the two of you whenever the door closed behind him.

'I'm sorry,' you whisper. 'But you're not going back there.'

'No,' she replies. 'And you aren't either, because - because I won't have him lay a finger on my little girl again. I won't let him.'

Pride fills you at your mother's determination, at her defiance. So long, you'd begged her to do it, to leave him alone with his alcohol, and now she is, now she's leaving it all behind her, and the warm feeling in your chest makes your heart ache with the revelation of it. Squeezing her hand, you link arms with her and walk her back to the Crest. The ramp is down, which means Din is back, and you hope he won't mind the addition to your crew.

'Din?' You call. 'Is it - is it okay? I brought my mother, she's - she's leaving my father behind.' Your voice cracks as you say it, and somehow the words out in the air make it final.

He slides down the ladder up to the cockpit. 'Of course, that's okay, cyar'ika.'

~

You and Din have managed to get your mother settled on the cot you share - you made sure to change the bed clothes, since the idea of your own mother sleeping in between sheets where you and your Mandalorian had...

Anyway, she's fast asleep now, most likely because it's the first time in too many years that she can go to bed and be safe - really safe. Sighing, you slump down on a crate and lean your head against the wall behind you, glancing over at Din as you sip your broth.

'Thanks, Din.'

'Anything for you, my sweet girl,' he hums, and you know he's smiling when he adds, 'My sweet riduur.'

He sits down next to you with a groan, and you giggle, prodding his ribs. Chuckling, he reaches out to brush some hair off your face, and suddenly you're flinching away, your father's violent eyes and smile flashing before your eyes. His hand, raised, to hit you, the other fisted in your shirt, and suddenly your lungs are being constricted by iron bands and you cower away, hands above your head to shield yourself.

And then you snap back to the present and Din is frozen in front of you. You can tell he's not sure what he's done, but he recognises the terror in your eyes, too similar to that of his bounties, and he hates it, but he's too scared to reach out to you. Trembling, you lower your arms and take a shuddering breath.

'I - I'm sorry,' you rasp. 'I - I didn't meant to do that, I - I...' You trail off, burying your face in your hands. 'Din, I - I - my father almost hit me today,' you whisper, voice shaking. 'He almost fucking hit me, and I was - I was so scared - '

He takes off his helmet, not caring that your mother could come out and see him at any moment. He just cares that you can see that it's him, not your father, and that he'll protect you no matter what. Slowly, so you can shrug him off at any moment if you need to, he reaches his hand out and gently strokes it down the curve of your spine, letting you know he's here, and that he won't let anything happen to you.

Sniffling, you lean into him, eyes and nose streaming. Fingers fisting in his cloak, you bury your face into the side of his neck and breathe in his scent. He holds you, steadying you, so gentle, so sweet, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

It's him, you think. It's Din. It's Din.

'I'm here,' he murmurs in your ear, and there's no way that gentle voice belongs to your father.

'I - I'm so sorry, Din,' you gasp. 'I... I know you would never, I just - just - '

He presses a kiss to your forehead. 'It's okay, cyar'ika. It's okay. You never have to go back there.'