A Bad Idea (Two Sides of the Same Coin, Din Djarin x Fem!Reader) - Chapter Three: Part One
A/N: JEsus this took an overwhelming amount of time to write and I’m so sorry for that. I’m hoping in the future that I will update more frequently since the next chapters are where its going start getting GOOD. Gif is not mine! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.
Two Sides of the Same Coin Masterlist (If you need a little review ;))
Summary: Mando and the Reaper must resort to old contacts of Mando’s to acquire credits. But when working with a group of mercenaries, things can expectedly go wrong.
Warning(s): Um None? I can’t remember! Angsty
Word Count: 5218 (I’m splitting this in two parts it was just going to be too long)
“This is a bad idea.”
The words floated through the Razor Crest, residing between the two warriors. Despite the regulated air system onboard the beat up old ship, the air was thick with tension. A tension that had unfortunately been building for a while, since their departure from Mos Eisley.
(Y/N) did not spare a glance in his direction as she finished securing her last piece of armor to her torso. She did not spare a glance when she heard the familiar sigh escape the beskar steel helmet or when she heard his blaster drop into the worn leather holster. She knew it was useless to keep bringing it up, but it was a bad idea. Her gut told her so…
“We talked about this… ” (Y/N) involuntarily rolled her eyes. Their discussion had consisted of the two of them engaging in a screaming match, one where the only result was them waking the child. It had not been her intention nor the Mandalorians, she was sure of that much, yet it happened anyways.
(Y/N) was used to being alone. She had not followed a chain of command since her Rebellion days and even then she had not followed very well or very willingly. She could take care of herself and had been fending for herself since her youth. Maker, she was still alive if that gave her any credit. Now being constantly around someone, someone who infuriatingly tried to make all the decisions, it was … a difficult adjustment. Their blissful stage seemed to have died after the whole incident on Tatooine, it was as if Mando had forgotten his very words to her when they left.
“We don’t have to fight alone anymore.”
And now it just seemed that all they did was fight against one another, neither one being able to agree on anything. Especially that she could be of use in this upcoming mission, but no he wanted her to stay with the child, benched on the sidelines. It was infuriating, making (Y/N)’s blood boil. She was annoyed with Mando’s constant orders, with his need to be in control, with the stupid sultry way his voice sounded through the modulator when they argued, with the way his body clad in that threateningly beautiful armor loomed over hers. Most of all, she hated the way her body responded to it all, it was… frustrating.
“We don’t have any other options.” Mando continued, a deep sigh tumbling from his helmet. (Y/N) shook away her drifting thoughts, internally trying to sum it all up to annoyance, exhaustion, and the small confines of the Razor Crest.
To be honest with herself, all she wanted was to go a couple rounds with him. In a fight, she added feeling the need to clarify even if it was only to herself. She wanted to feel the adrenaline coarse through her very being, electrifying her into the resilient warrior she was trained to be. Maybe she would fight her equally well trained opponent with a weapon or perhaps they would spice it up and she would use her bare hands. Yes, (Y/N) smirked softly to herself, she could envision it now.
“The galaxy is big, I’m positive there is.” Without much thought, (Y/N)’s eyes drifted up and over to the gleaming beskar. The helmet, his helmet, was already tilted down staring at her. (Y/N) swallowed thickly, heat creeping up the back of her neck. Mutely, she cursed her multitude of dark layers as if they were to blame even in the depths of frigid space.
Still their eyes remained locked together, despite the obvious barrier concealing his from the normal eye, but she knew where his eyes were. She could find where they resided with ease now, for (Y/N) did not have the normal eye. No, she had the eyes of the Reaper…
(Y/N) did not like this, not one bit. After all the heated conversations of the late, she did not enjoy the silence, the brutal tense silence. She would rather dive head first into a sarlacc pit or fight off a Rathar than deal with the unease brewing between them. She had never experienced such discomfort before, but then again this was the longest she had been in the company of someone in a while, especially someone like the Mandalorian.
He broke away first, leaving her to mentally digest the fact that there was no possibility of breaking Mando out of this delusion. This was going to happen and it would not go the way he thought and she would be left behind unable to help. She wanted to convince him, persuade him otherwise, but it would not be right. And as much as she did not want to admit it, someone did need to watch after the child. He was too important to be left alone in the hands of the unpredictable.
Hands sliding upwards, (Y/N) clutched the rough and well past exhausted fabric of her hood, moving it to conceal her features. What they were about to face was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and risks. She was not sure what they would be walking into and what measures would need to be taken if this went haywire, but the Reaper needed to be on standby. Who knew what actions she would be required to take…
Cracked worn leather seized her hands, halting them in their attempt to conceal her face. A staggered gasp flew from (Y/N)’s mouth, eyes shooting up to the man beside her. Why had she not noticed his movement? Her reflexes felt out of touch lately, probably from lack of use. Nonetheless, she was not used to physical contact, not the contact that was calm and gentler, the kind that would not get her killed. Although with the way her heart rate spiked, the brink of death could be closer than she thought.
“Don’t.”
The Mandalorian’s voice was stern and deeper than usual. (Y/N) imagined it was the voice his targets heard just before he pulled the trigger. Yet, there was something unidentifiable woven into it, something that made her lips part in the slightest and the heat creep further up her neck threateningly close to her face.
An eyebrow quirked up, “Why?” She could not help but question him. Why did he not want her to put the hood on? Did he not want her face hidden? It was a strange notion coming from a man whose face was always hidden.
The Mandalorian let out a soft exhale, his grip on her hands loosening until the warmth of his touch left her completely. “I know you solely operated out of your own self interest,” His hand traveled down, a finger faintly caressing a lock of her hair. It was unfamiliar, such a delicate action coming from hands coated thickly by the sharp stench of blaster smoke. It made the hair on the back of (Y/N)’s neck stand up despite the heat bursting beneath her skin. “But, there are many who believe the Reaper is just a soldier of the New Republic.”
(Y/N) scoffed loudly, “As if I would be a piece in their game of Dejarik.” The New Republic had grown too invested in their rebuilding of democracy that it seemed they had forgotten the scattered remains of the Empire still lurking in the shadows of the galaxy. How could one go forth in restoration if Imperials still plagued systems outside of the core worlds? (Y/N) knew the answer and even more so she knew that their ignorance would come back to bite them exceptionally hard in the ass one day.
Another huff emitted from the Mandalorian, “I know, but a group of mercenaries who act outside the laws of the New Republic…”
“Wouldn’t want to take the chance of being around a supposed puppet of the Republic.” (Y/N) finished for him, clenching her jaw tightly. She roughly rubbed the skin above her brow, irked to her very core. This day was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated and it was already giving her a headache. She did not like the idea of being exposed around people she did not know, let alone mercenaries, but what other choice did she have? She could not endanger the child’s life or Mando’s…
(Y/N) let the black hood fall to rest against her back, twisting to face the man hidden behind so much armor. “Look I know you don’t agree with me about all of this, but it’s the only option we have right now.” Mando defended, his head tilting down to look at her. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and shook her head in dismay. Yes they were on the run from the Guild, but to assume that all their other options were burned did not make sense.
(Y/N) broke away from her sour thoughts when she felt the cold beskar steel press against her abdomen. Unknowingly, she had drifted closer to his imposing figure. Despite her own armor, the frigid chill of the beskar could be felt against her torso as if her bare skin was flushed against it. At the thought of her bare skin pressed against the Mandalorian, (Y/N) gulped. Her eyes warily lifted to the dark visor, seeing it still tilted down looking at her.
He was as motionless as she was, both frozen together as they stared silently. This was different compared to the harsh words exchanged over the course of the previous days. It was different compared to anything else (Y/N) had felt previously. Her frustration seemed to boil over though, her body searing all over. She mentally pondered how the beskar had not begun to melt. Eyes still locked together, she swallowed thickly unsure of how to proceed at such a proximity. Did she continue her argument with him? Did she silently stay pressed against him in hopes of something … else?
A loud beeping coming from the cockpit seemed to decide for her. (Y/N) jumped back, eyes wide in alarm. The startling noise had her pulling away from the Mandalorian, leaving her to feel hollow and flustered. Eyes not daring to meet Mando’s, she instead looked up to the concealed cockpit where the beeping continued. They were nearing their destination…
“Fine.” (Y/N) broke the silence, her voice lacking the vigor it possessed just moments ago. “Whatever you say, Partner.” Her eyes held onto the floor of the Razor Crest as she stalked away overcome by a swirl of strange emotions.
Too caught up in her own internal inferno (Y/N) missed the way the leather gloves, the same ones that stoked the very fire that burned inside her, lingered in the air attempting to grasp something that was no longer within reach.
Mando could barely focus on the task at hand, a task that required critical attention. He could not afford a slip up just because of his own carelessness, but the Mandalorian could not turn his attention away from the Razor Crest.
The ship was sitting idle inside the hangar bay of Ran’s space station. He was not concerned about the ship that would now be accompanying him on this job per se, it was old and had served him well beyond its intended use. No, he was concerned for the two hidden on board.
As he watched the droid, Zero as the team called it, board his ship, Mando's stomach heaved with uncertainty. He should have dropped them on some small uninhabited planet where they could have been safe, but instead he had brought them even closer to danger, once again. Although with the way (Y/N) had been behaving lately, she would have never gone along with it.
She argued against every word that slipped out of his helmet. Particularly when it came to the subject of this job and her lack of participation in it. Running from the Guild and remaining Imps loyal to the Warlord client on Nevarro left the two warriors and the child with little to no options. (Y/N) was a fighter unlike anything he had ever seen but, he could not risk her working among this motley crew. Mando did not like the fact that he had to resort back to his past, but he had to protect the kid and (Y/N) no matter what, whether she liked it or not. And as it would seem she was not fond of the idea or anything of the late.
Ever since Tatooine, she had been different, stiffer, dare he say frightened. Although he did not know of what. He had been alone for so long, a part of him locked away inside the Mandalorian creed that he did not know what it was like to be a part of something that contrasted so greatly against his upbringing. (Y/N) was so strikingly different from him or anyone he had ever met, it was shocking that they had even coexisted together for so long. Mando knew that she was aware of his belief, but (Y/N) never disputed it. She let him believe they were complete oppositions, but he could see her wanting to fight it. She was unwilling though to share their similarities, unwilling to share anything about herself or her past. Although he assumed she was unable to, with the truth locked away it left her lips sealed shut. It was strange compared to others he had met in his travels. Others felt the need to share parts of their stories wherever they went, unlike himself and others who swore the Mandalorian creed. His past, the boy he once was, the person he once was to be, was buried deep down because of a way of life. (Y/N)’s was buried so carefully and meticulously that it could have only been for one reason… survival.
Her secretive nature and the thought of her hidden life shed new light on to the bearing of the black hood. The Reaper was just another wall of protection for (Y/N). Another way to keep herself safe and anonymous, yet she had been so willing to remove her hood on Sorgan in front of him. Perhaps it had just been for the child or that she found him to be trustworthy because of Cara. Or maybe it was not her face that set her apart and made her life dangerous… At the thought of the hood and her face, Mando recalled their last conversation only moments before they had arrived here. He thought of how they had drifted together mindlessly, their torsos pressed against one another, breaths taken collectively. Her eyes, those alluring eyes, had widened in alarm as they first made contact. He could still feel the heat that had radiated off of her like a phantom creeping up him. Mando had been so confounded, it turned him into a statue unsure how to respond. Before he could, (Y/N) had stepped away dismissing it entirely too quickly… leaving Mando even more confused.
Mando was not naive, he knew he contributed to the skyrocketing strain between the two of them, but it was no less bothersome. Every little move or decision was met with criticism, everywhere he went inside the confines of the ship he was met with the jumpiness of her, and arguments left him with the sight of her disheveled, face tinged with that angry flush, and her lips drawn together into that sinful pout. He had grown tired, irked even by the continuous fighting, but he could not resist from vexing her. Every time he did, he was met with those sharp eyes throwing daggers at him, eliciting a reaction deep inside of him that made his fingers twitch for his blaster or perhaps something else.
With the way she looked at him, Mando was reminded of how very capable she was at taking him down and a part of him wanted her to try. He wanted her hot breath to fog up his visor, feel the burning sting of her knees pressed down into his forearms locking him down and her legs hooked around his dangerously close to his inner thighs, feel the intimate press of her blaster against his throat. Just for the hell of it.
“So, package is being moved on a fortified transport ship.” Mayfield explained bringing up a display of a ship on a hologram. “Now, we got a limited window to board, find our friend, get him outta there, before they make their jump.”
Mando’s head dropped down to view the hologram ship and for a moment he closed his eyes attempting to shake away his disorderly thoughts. He needed to focus on the task at hand because the sooner he got these credits, the sooner they could be gone and safe. Well, safer.
“That’s a New Republic prison ship.” He observed once he collected him. He turned to Ran, the man only offering him a tilt of his head and a quirked up eyebrow. “ Your man wasn't taken by a rival syndicate, he was arrested.” Oh his partner was going to kill him…
“So what?” Mayfield questioned smugly, planting his hands down onto the table.
“A job is a job.” Ran reminded, his mouth opening in surprise over Mando’s obvious displeasement. For a fleeting minute, Mando felt relieved that he had advised against (Y/N) wearing the hood. On a mission like this, one that involved the New Republic, the Reaper would only be a deterrent, a threat, and Mando did not want any of these banthas to even lay an eye on her. Although, he could also envision the blaster slipping beneath a layer of armor, the chill of the durasteel seeping through his clothing to his carefully concealed skin, the blaster positioned against his ribcage when (Y/N) found out.
“That’s a max security transport,” Mando stated looking between Ran and the former Imperial sharpshooter, “and I’m not looking for that type of heat.”
“Well, neither are we. So just don’t mess up.” Ran added and Mando sighed tilting his helmet at the old acquaintance, silently regretting getting involved back into this.
“The good news for you is the ship is manned by droids. “ Xi’an sauntered up to him, fiddling with her dagger. She grinned maliciously up at him, looking at him in a way that no doubtedly was an attempt to get under his skin and provoke feelings, no urges, that were no longer there. Not for her. He was not young and foolish anymore, looking for a release wherever he could find it. Things were different now, he was different. “Still hate the machines, Mando?” Xi’an purred leaning up and into him, her blade pointing over to the Crest.
Mando turned to find Zero walking down the ramp of his ship. “Despite recent modifications the ship is still quite a mess. The power lines are leaking. The navigation is intermittent. And the hyperdrive is only operating at 67.3% efficiency.” With each sentence of his schematics report, Zero lifted and lowered his arms. Mando rolled his eyes at the dramatics of the machine and his analysis. The ship was fine…
“Oh, and it seems the Mandalorian has a stowaway on board.” Shit. Mando’s head sprung up and he looked over to the odd crew who seemed to perk up at the droid’s words.
“She’s not a part of this operation.” Mando spit, scowling at the nosy machine. He was not sure what he had expected, the team would have found out about (Y/N) the minute they boarded the ship, he was unable to hide her like the little green one. Yet, the droid’s words had stoked something inside of him that he rarely felt… fear. Although with the child and now (Y/N) accompanying him, it was a feeling he began to encounter more frequently.
“Who is she?” Ran questioned, eyeing Mando with a look of suspicion and distrust.
“No one,” He quickly squabbled for an answer, a lie, “just an old acquaintance in need of transportation.” His words were choppy and rushed, an most importantly ineffective.
“Oh, it seems Mando here has a little friend on board.” Mayfield chuckled walking towards the ship. Mando stepped forward defensively unsure what the sharpshooters intentions were. “What is she? A personal dancer? A concubine? Someone for you to take your frustrations out on?”
Mayfield’s questions made the Mandalorian clench his jaw, his temper shortening with every syllable. (Y/N) was not anything of those things and hearing her, a woman capable of so much belittled like that made Mando’s palm itch for his weapon. That’s not what they were, they were partners working together to ensure the safety of the kid. That was it, right? The Mandalorian shook away his questionable thoughts choosing instead to focus on which way he wanted to kill this merc…
Mando stepped forward, hand moving to hover above his blaster. The beskar clinked as he walked up to Mayfield only stopping once he was a few inches away. He peered down at the dimwitted Imp, a man who should fear for his life.
“She’s an acquaintance, that is all.” His voice was low and threatening through the modulator, everyone halting around them. The two men stood chest to chest, neither one backing down.
“I don’t know Mando, my interest is piqued now. Let’s go have a looksie, huh?” Mayfield taunted, attempting to move towards the ramp. Mando’s arm sprung out quicker than he could think, hand tightly clasping around Mayfield’s upper right arm. He yanked him back roughly, his teeth grinding together from how hard his jaw was clenched. His other hand now gripping his blaster firmly. Before Mando could even speak, advise this former Imp against anything involving (Y/N), Ran beat him to it.
“M, leave it. I don’t care about some girl. You have a time sensitive job to do so I suggest you all get going.” Ran barked gesturing to the hologram still displayed on the table beside the bearded man.
Mayfield glanced up at Mando one last time before ripping his arm free, “Fine.”
Watching him head towards the ship, Mando inhaled deeply. He did not like this one bit. Unbeknownst to him, Xi’an had slinked on over to him, letting one purple finger trail over the fabric of his cloak concealing back until she worked her way to the front of him. Her finger jabbed harshly at the middle of his armor, where the small indention of his sternum was. Her eyes narrowed as she studied his visor, entirely missing his own. “Interesting…” She purred before heading for the Crest as well.
He too, moved towards his ship mentally preparing himself for the mess that would await him inside. Mando begged that the credits would be worth this disaster of a mission. Although as he reached the top of the ramp, a voice called to him further indicating this mission would be trying.
“Hey Mando,” He pivoted to see Ran at the bottom of the ramp watching him. “Don’t let that girl of yours get in the way.” His words were sharp, a warning embedded in them despite the large smile the older man wore as a facade. The sight made Mando uncomfortable, his words even more so. Mando just stared down at the man, the silence effectively delivering his response, before he slammed the button to his left closing the ramp.
(Y/N) felt the Razor Crest lift and slowly pivot out of the space station, but it was an afterthought as she stared down the new passengers that boarded the ship. A Devaronian, a Twi’lek and a human, not mentioning the droid she had come across before who had once again slipped up to the cockpit. She could not believe Mando was letting a droid pilot. (Y/N) knew her companion hated droids, she had witnessed it beneath the heat of the twin suns, but she was still unsure why. But a man like such had to have a reason why, a tremendous one. Just like she had hers for her own things…
A low whistle echoed across the confines of the ship and (Y/N) blinked away the haze in her eyes, focusing onto the audience before. All three pairs of eyes were trained on her, maybe even a visor, but the whistle had originated from the bald human who just seemed to gawk at her with half a sly smile.
“I don’t know Mando,” The man spoke, pivoting to the Mandalorian pressed against the side panelling. “Are you sure she’s not -” His words were cut short by the erupt turn of the shiny helmet. The man laughed at his reception, shrugging his shoulders lightly. (Y/N) felt like she was missing the punchline. “Hey it’s your business.”
The helmet stayed locked on the man and (Y/N) could identify the threat spoken in the way he tilted his head. It almost made (Y/N) smirk, almost.
“No this one is too pretty.” The Twi’lek stepped forward carelessly. She approached with a wickedly large grin, but her eyes were hardened with something familiar. (Y/N) had seen the look before, she just could not place it. “Dressed in black and armor.” The Twi’lek clicked her tongue, pausing just in front of (Y/N). Her eyes were gleaming with malice, tinged with recognizable anger.
With a hiss, the Twi’lek sprung forward, the coolness of a dagger pressing against (Y/N)’s throat as her back slammed into the wall. Sharp teeth barred, bodies pressing into one another as the dagger experimentally pushed on (Y/N)’s artery. The free arm of the Twi’lek roughly attempted to keep (Y/N)’s own arms down and away from the dagger.
The close proximity gave (Y/N) the realization as to where she had seen this look before. The same look had been in the eyes of a few Rebel fighters, even a General once, when observing romantic interests with other possible suitors. Jealousy, (Y/N) concluded. A feeling she had never experienced. Jealousy required an object of affection and vengeance had not left much room for that. It had not left room for much of anything…
But why was the Twi’lek jealous? What did (Y/N) possess to earn such envy?
“Xi’an.” Mando’s voice warned and the Twi’lek, Xi’an, seemed to let out a sigh that was mixed with a low purr at the sound. Her response was well, alarming. (Y/N) would have bet several credits for her to react violently or completely ignore him, not sound like she was getting off at the scolding.
Flickering eyes found the Mandalorian standing rigid observing the tense scene before him. A hand was posed above his blaster as if he was ready for any slight movement he deemed too dangerous. With the dagger pressed against her trachea, (Y/N) rolled her eyes, it was a little late for a blaster. Yet, the sight reminded her of their first meeting underneath the sinking sun of Sorgan. Where both of their hands had been inching towards their own blasters, ready to draw and have a good old fashioned shootout, before they had even exchanged a word. (Y/N) missed those days. Now she could only see the obvious hostility between Mando and the Twi’lek, one that was a clear indication as to why Xi’an was threatening her. (Y/N) could only scoff, Really Mando?
A burning sensation erupted in the Reaper’s chest as if she had just consumed a large amount of Rodian spice. It was a strange feeling, making her cough a little causing the dagger to rub against her neck. It was new and unfamiliar, had she just swallowed fire?
The sharpness of the dagger continued to prod at the delicate stretch of her skin until (Y/N) felt warmth trickle down her neck. Blood. Yet, she did not flinch nor was she really concerned. She had bled before, many times, in many places. This would just be another scar varnishing her skin. The palms of her hands itched for her weapon though, something that would put this tiny dagger to shame, put this merc to shame, but alas she could not. With no hood, she would have to dispose of everyone in the ship and that would get messy, quick. It would be easy for her of course, but it would leave a lot of questions from the Mandalorian. Questions she was not ready to answer, yet. Although she could not imagine a time she would ever be ready. Not to mention the whole reason they were in this mess in the first place; They needed the credits and disposing of all them right now would leave behind another problem. So instead, a part of her who was the Reaper, the dauntless warrior who had struck fear in many across the galaxy, tilted her head down at the purple skinned mercenary.
“Are you done showing off your toy?” (Y/N) challenged bitingly. Muffled laughter was heard in the background and Xi’an growled at the mockery. Before the purple skinned woman could retaliate, (Y/N) sprung into action, quickly raising her knee and forced a blow into her stomach. Xi’an let out a howl of discomfort at the blow, stumbling backwards while her dagger slipped from her fingers. (Y/N) turned her attention away from the Twi’lek in the blink of an eye, catching the dagger in her own palm. Xi’an eyes were wide with shock and speckles of fear as (Y/N) swiftly moved to press the blade against the throat of the mercenary. “Let’s try this again shall we?” A smirk graced her lips as she peered down savagely at her new prey.
More laughter broke through the intense stare down, ripping (Y/N) away from her opponent. She took a step back, eyeing Xi’an with venom laced in her irises; she was surprised the Twi’lek had not doubled over and fallen ill from the toxicity of it. Nonetheless she had made her point… (Y/N) twirled the small dagger in her hand until the handle pointed towards Xi’an, who snatched it in displeasure. She let out a growl of outrage before she turned and slunk back to the other side of the ship.
“I like this one Mando,” The human male chuckled beside the Devaronian, “she’s good with her hands. Too bad she ain’t a part of our job.”
Mando looked between the three mercenaries and (Y/N), while she discreetly collected the small trickle of blood from her neck. He was strangely reserved as he stalked towards the ladder leading to the cockpit. His gaze seemed to linger on (Y/N) though, making the fire in her chest bloom again. She was unsure what to make of these feelings that dominated her lately. She was angry with the Mandalorian half the time, but she also fought against the underlying current that threatened to engulf her constantly. It left her depleted, breathless, and frustrated, but most of all confused.
“Pity.” He breathed out and a tsk flew from (Y/N)’s mouth. She glowered at the beskar steel in utter disbelief over his teasing. If only these mercs knew the amount of bickering that had occurred inside this ship over her not being a part of the job, how many times she envisioned tackling him to the floor. Now he had the audacity to tease her and so openingly. She was going to kill him. But she could not help the light smirk that sunk into her face as she watched him disappear up the steps.
