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

Stay With Me

A/N: requested by 1Mando - yall this picture ^^ makes me simp

Warnings: injuries, blood, gore, swearing, angst, a helluva lot of crying, death, needles, idk what else lmfao,

Word count: 1239

Fuck, what had you been thinking?

Din himself had warned you against taking the job. He'd taken the time to explain to you all the ways you could get killed or kidnapped or left to die, and you'd taken it anyway, in hope that the money would get the dodgy engine of your ship fixed.

You should have known, Din is always right about this stuff.

Well, partially right, anyway. You did manage to get the bounty - you also managed to shove him in carbonite, although he's at a slightly awkward angle due to your current predicament. Gritting your teeth, you stumble towards the ladder leading to the cockpit and grab the top rung, heaving yourself up with pure arm strength - thank the Maker for the pull up bar Din helped you install. Your eyes water as the various slashes in your arms stretch open, and warm blood starts soaking into your ragged sleeves. Pulling yourself across the floor, grimacing at the red smear you leave behind you, you barely manage to sit up on your knees and stab the button which sets off the distress beacon. Flicking the switch to send a transmission, you wince and wave, aware of how your face must be smeared in blood.

'Hey, Din,' you stutter through your pain. 'I - I got the bounty, but I - ' You sway, just catching yourself on the pilot's chair. ' - I think I'm going to d - die.' Heaving yourself up a little, you lift up the hem of your shirt. 'I'm bleeding out, Din. If I - if I don't get to talk to you again, I - ' You wince as pain stabs through you. ' - I just want you to - to know, I - I care about you, a lot, and I'll miss it. Whatever we're calling it, I - I'll miss what we had, just between the - the two of us.'

Suddenly, black roils at the edges of your vision, and the world spins around you before you topple over, collapsing onto the floor.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Din's heart is pounding in his ears as he squeezes through the small space the ramp has made as it lowers, unwilling to wait for it to open fully. Sprinting across the landing bay, he catches sight of your ship and lengthens his stride, putting on a burst of speed at the memory of your words, forced out through your pain.

I think I'm going to die.

I think I'm going to die. I think I'm going to die. I think I'm -

He skids to a halt outside your ship, frantically typing your encrypted mish mash of letters and numbers into the panel by the ramp. Agonisingly slowly, it begins to hum open, and he reaches up and yanks it down, scrambling into your ship and almost tripping over a crate as he makes his way towards the cockpit, where he knows you'll be. There's drops of blood on the floor by the ladder, deep red dotting the metal, and two crimson handprints on the top rung. Fear shoots through him, cold and paralysing, but he doesn't let it delay him for long, not when your life is at stake.

He bursts into the cockpit.

You're lying on the floor, so still he almost thinks he's too late.

Dropping to his knees beside you, right into a pool of your own blood, he gently flips you over. His breath catches in his throat. Half of your torn tunic is soaked red, and his fingers tremble as he lifts it up, forcing himself to inspect the gaping wound for the sake of saving you. The skin around the edges is ragged, and he assumes it's got to be from some sort of jagged viroblade. Blood is still oozing from your wound, and he immediately applies pressure while he searches his memory for where the medkit is. Terror stabs at his heart; he can't let this happen, can't let you go, not when he could have prevented this by persuading you not to take the job.

'Stay with me,' he whispers, his voice cracking. 'Please. Please, I can't - '

Choking down a sob, almost unable to leave your side to get the medkit, he nearly falls down the ladder as he rips open the cupboard to his left and grabs it with shaking hands. Your name on his lips as he scrambles back up into the cockpit, he rips open the neat box of supplies and grabs the bacta shot, praying that he's not too late, that he can still save you.

Carefully, he steadies his shaking hands and lines the bacta shot up so the entry point will be just under your ribs. Biting back his panic, he pushes down the plunger, watching the bacta empty from the syringe. Once it's all gone, he pulls the needle out and drops it onto the ground beside him, desperately watching you for movement. He knows that he could still be too late - there's a certain period of time after a wound where you can apply a shot, but anything after that... well, you might as well be saying your goodbyes.

And he can't say his goodbyes, not with your sweet voice in his head, saying I'll miss it. Whatever we're calling it, I'll miss what we had, just between the two of us.

Not with your sweet voice saying, I care about you, a lot.

Not with his heart begging for you to live, because he needs to tell you how much he cares.

Needs to tell you he can't lose you.

Needs to tell you he loves you. So, so much.

You cough, weakly, and your eyes flutter open. Unable to make a coherent sound, he grabs you in his arms, cradling you to his chest and barely restraining himself from crushing you close to him. He leans the cold beskar of his helmet on your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut underneath as salty tears drip down his face, shuddering sobs wracking his large frame as he clings onto you, revelling in how warm you are, how alive you are.

'Don't you ever fucking dare do that again,' he growls. 'You should have listened to me, you - you shouldn't have gone, don't ever, ever do that again. You scared me, you fucking scared me so much - '

One of your hands reaches up and presses against the cheek of his helmet. It doesn't matter that there's dried blood on your fingers, doesn't matter at all to Din, because you're alive. So he grabs your fingers and squeezes them, and with his head still buried in your shoulder, he tells you the truth, his voice ragged and broken.

'I love you,' he gasps. 'I love you, I love you, I love you.'

You close your eyes, one hand fisting in his cowl while you bury your face in his shoulder, engulfing yourself in his scent. 'Din, I'm sorry, I'm so s - sorry - ' You cut yourself off, arms locking around his neck as you stare right into his eyes as if the helmet isn't there. 'I love you too, Din. I love you.'

Din rests his forehead against yours, tears streaking down his cheeks, as he holds you in his arms, thanking the Maker that you're still with him.