Din Djarin x Reader One-Shots

Unlikely Allies | Part 1

Warnings : PBY (Pre-Baby Yoda), Violence, Unedited, Random song cause i like it ^

Mandalorian x Child! Tusken! Reader

Word Count : 1652 (I got the idea for this after watching the BOBF, but its so inconsistent and has weird POV mixes, im sorry. also Holy mother of Wow, over 400 reads? TYSM<3) 

Translations : Haran = Hell | Uli-ah is a young Tusken |

₪ ₪ ₪

Mando tread through the sand, hot skin soaked in sweat and beskar armor glinting under the Tatooine suns. His food and supplies were strung on his pulse-rifle, balanced atop his stiff shoulders.

He had been traveling for almost five days, walking for two of them, having turned in a bounty across the desert only to be double crossed and left for dead. Except he wasn't the one decomposing in the blistering heat with his brains blown out. Though that might not matter because from the looks of things, it didn't look like he'd last much longer.

Hid tinted vision was hazy, and he wanted nothing more than to peel off his helmet and wipe the sticky sweat out of his eyes. But he couldn't take the chance of something seeing him.

And it was a good thing too, because before long he found that the bulky specks in the distance weren't a mirage or figment of his dehydrated imagination. The closer he got, the more he saw the lazy shape of Banthas, tents, and....ah haran.... Sand people. A whole tribe, by the looks of it.

But, with nowhere else to go in this vast sea of sand and boulders, and his resolve quickly reaching its end, he continued towards it.

The grunts and shrieks of the tribe was the first thing he heard, and once his figure was distinguishable from their camp, the scout called out to the rest of the tribe. Huddling around the edge of the camp, they stood in a group, Gaffi Sticks and rifles raised in caution.

As Mando reached the edge of their camp, he stopped, letting the leader speak first. In common Tusken, and sign language, the leader asked who he was and why he was there. Slowly, the Mandalorian set his weapon down and brought his hand up, responding in a strained, choppier version of the language. "I am lost, trying to find a way to my ship."

Unfortunately for him, he noticed too late that in his overheated state he mistook almost the entire sentence, signing something very different. 

There were outbursts throughout the crowd, and Mando was quick to bring his fists up to block the oncoming fire as the Tuskens charged. They swung their staffs and shot their guns, and he just barely managed to dodge half of the attacks. However he was unaware of the Uli-ah creeping up behind him, their own small Gaffi Stick ready to strike. 

They brought the wooden staff down, colliding with Mandos helmet so hard it caused a horrible concussion. That, along with the lack of food, water, and heat exhaustion, sent the Mandalorian crashing to the ground, head slamming into his beskar helmet on the way.

The Tuskens cheered, pumping their fists and weapons in the air. The younglings guardian wrapped an arm around their shoulder and brought them close, raising their arms as well. The strongest of the group dragged the Mandalorian to the wooden stakes they had hammered in the ground just outside the circle of tents, his body leaving a trail in the sand. They stripped him of all his armor but his helmet, gathering his rifle and supplies and setting them down outside the younglings tent, giving them the responsibility of watching over him. 

The sun began to set, and the camp went on with its evenings duties. But the youngling couldn't look away from the shining pile of armor gleaming under the sun's beams as they tended to the fire. When it was time to go to bed, and the scout went out for the night, they lit a long piece of wrapped drywood and creeped to the edge of their tent, setting the torch in the sand while they rummaged through the captives things, taking great interest in the foreign goods from other worlds, oblivious of the waking Mandalorian at their side.