#n e ways i put way too many details and references in this (cough cough conjoined rooms cough cough) so yeah teehee

[bbeeohazardd]

Tommy stared wide-eyed at his gun-wielding friend, well, ex-friend at this point. Hand tightly holding the camcorder as he quickly held out his other arm to at least somewhat shield the older man behind him. He really regretted getting Bubby involved with his investigation, but he didn’t think it would escalate to this.

“bro, i know you took that tape, the one with Coomer on it, lil stealy boy ‘n now i gotta do this.”

“Benrey what?”

It was all Tommy could really respond with.

“Tommy, what tape is he talking about?!”

Bubby shouted.

“bro, i told you not to get Bubby involved in this, bro. ‘s why i told him i found Darnold, i just wanted to make my movie ‘n now look what you’re makin’ me do.”

“Benrey stop, you don’t- you can’t- it doesn’t have to be like this!”

Tommy couldn’t stop the shake in his voice.

“broo, i told you, i didn’t want it to come to this, bro. jus’ wanna make my movie ‘n shit bro, but then you shared my cool-ass tapes. makin’ me all bad ‘n shit bro, now i gotta be baaaaaad.”

“What are you FUCKING talking about.”

The sharp voice of Bubby only made him more anxious. He should’ve thought things through more thoroughly, and now he was going to get someone killed.

Tommy’s spiral halted as he noticed a figure sneaking up behind his ex-friend, a familiar orange jacket with a black and white mask. Gordon, his brain helpfully supplied.

“Benrey it’s- you- please don’t do this!”

“Yeah dumbass!”

“should’ve burned those tapes, i wanted to be nice but now i can’t and-”

Benrey was cut off as Gordon grabbed him violently from behind. Tommy sprang into action, grabbing Bubby’s arm and hauling-ass down the stairs. The sound of a gunshot made the older man yell out as they both made it through Rosswood and back to their cars.

“Tommy- Tommy what the fuck!”

“I- I don’t know! We- we gotta- we gotta get out of here and to a hotel! Just pack what you need and we- we can meet up at the Ramada by Skyland and McFarland.”

The other man nodded and hurriedly got in his car, peeling out of the parking lot.

Tommy paused to gather himself, eyes falling on Benrey’s parked car. He walked over, finding the door unlocked, to nobody’s shock. The inside of the car was a mess, but he noticed something on the passenger seat. The bag that Benrey had been carrying around and the chest camera.

Tommy looked around nervously before he grabbed them, closing the door and rushing to his own car before he sped off to the hotel.

Tommy fidgeted anxiously as he sat in his car, staring at the gray hard drive that had been in the bag as his camcorder sat in his lap.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but staring at it made him nauseous, and after seeing that tape with Gordon and Dr. Coomer on it, he really wasn’t excited to see whatever Benrey had gotten up to that made him act like, well, that. Sure, Tommy had committed his own fair share of crimes, but resorting to murdering someone who had no involvement was horrifying.

His thoughts were cut off by another car pulling up next to him, Bubby stepping out from the driver's side and grabbing a backpack.

Tommy got out of the car to meet him, trying his best to keep himself calm, he really missed Sunkist.

“You got- uh- you have everything you need?” “Yeah. What the fuck are we gonna do, Tommy?” “I- We should just stay in our rooms for the day. I got- I already rented some conjoined- an adjoined room, so uh, yeah.” “Alright.” “Oh! Uh-” He walked back over to his car, pulling out his duffle bag. “These- this is everything I’ve shot on my camera, everything- all my interactions with Benrey. Uh, this one…” He dug a bit before he found the labeled tape. “This one. This one is super- it’s really important, Benrey didn’t want me to see it. Uh- there’s also this hard drive-” He held it up for him to see. “I don’t uhm- I don’t know what’s on it yet, but I just- I know it’s important.” He put it back in the camera bag before walking back over to Bubby.

“I’m- I was gonna put everything in the safe in my room, but I need- we should uh come up with a four digit combination that we can both remember.” “Why not 1234 or something like that?” “Too simple, I don’t want- it’d be easy for anyone to open.” “Hm.” The older man looked at the ground as he thought. “3596.” “3596?” “It’s a very important date to me, I’d never forget it.” “Alright, it uh- I can remember that.” “I’m gonna go check in before this headache makes me explode.” “Alright.”

He started walking away before he paused and turned back.

“Tommy, Benrey mentioned a tape with Harold on it.” Tommy shuffled anxiously but nodded. “Yeah, I can- I’ll show it to you once I get the file safe on my laptop.” “Fine.” He continued walking, coughing a bit as he entered the building.

Tommy zipped up the bag and grabbed the camera before heading in with his things.

It didn’t take too long to get everything put away and organized, now the main thing to wait for was getting the video from the tape Bubby wanted to see safe on his computer. Well, as safe as he could with how unreliable things were now. Sure, things were safe if posted on YouTube, but he’d had files tampered with before, so he wasn’t going to blindly trust the volatile laptop.

Tommy turned his focus on the chest mounted camera in his hands, slipping it on and adjusting it slightly. It wasn’t the best sensory experience around, but it’d be useful if he had to go somewhere he couldn’t bring the hand-held.

He moved the hand-held over to the bedside table, gently setting it down and letting out a sigh of relief. Still recording as always. He sat down on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

Saying he felt exhausted would be an understatement.

He looked over at the laptop on the desk, he still had a good amount of time before the video would be uploaded.

Tommy laid down to get some sorely needed rest.

Tommy woke up with a start, sweating and gasping for air due to a nightmare he couldn’t remember. Familiar screaming made him scramble out of bed, fumbling for his camera, before he ran over to the door connecting his and Bubby’s rooms. He banged on the door loudly.

“Bubby! Bubby, open the door!”

He shouted frantically. Groping for the doorknob in the darkness, the door was unlocked.

He swung it open, only to be face to face with it.

The thing was the same as always. Inky black skin that seemed to pulse and squirm, too many eyes that bore into him, skeletal arms that reached from its back, some type of animal skull for a head, maybe a horse but the teeth were too sharp.

His head pounded painfully as he looked around the room in a panic. No Bubby. His hands shook as he looked back at the source of his misery. He felt enraged and hurt, all he’d wanted was a normal life, and now this thing had taken someone he hadn’t even wanted to put in danger.

“What do you want?!”

He managed to shout, it felt like his skull would split in two.

“JUST LEAVE US ALONE.”

Tommy shouted before impulsively charging the thing.

The sensation of tackling something was the last thing he registered before he passed out.

[spookyold-saintjm]

Touch

Mandalorian x female reader

Part of the Pilot series [Masterlist]

Warnings: descriptions of blood/injury, sexual references, Mando is a little handsy.

Word Count: 2,805

Using prompt 38 (“What did they do to you?!”) from my prompt list. Requested anonymously.

So many of you loved my first Mando fic (read it here), so I’ve decided to do more! While this isn’t a direct sequel to The Pilot, I’ll be doing plenty of drabbles and short fics that will tie in to that plot line, like this one!

As always, your thoughts are greatly appreciated. If you’d like to be tagged in future Mando works, I would be honored and happy to add you to the list! Enjoy. x

—

Shock does strange things to your body.

You knew you should be feeling pain, exhaustion, or, you know, anything at all. But you were numb. 

You vision was sharper than ever, though. As you jogged over to the Razor Crest, you became aware of finite details of the ship you’d never noticed before. A scratch here, a loose panel there, chipping paint over there…

Your feet felt like they were floating above the air as you stumbled into the ship, and you had to remind yourself to take steps, left foot right foot left foot right foot, until you were completely inside. 

The figure of a beskar-clad bounty hunter sat at the cockpit of the ship, and you slumped against the back of the pilot’s seat with a weighted sigh as he flipped switches and pressed the necessary buttons to get you in the air and off of this gods-forsaken planet.

“You’re late. So I’m getting us out of here.” His voice, altered slightly by the modulator built into his helmet, was a jolt to your eardrums. He was clearly agitated, maybe even flat-out angry. But you couldn’t will yourself to be bothered. 

You shrugged as you stared at a single, fixed point on the control panel of the ship, unable to move or think about anything else.

“Trouble.” Your voice had a light lilt to it when you uttered the single word. There was now a persistent throbbing feeling crossing diagonally along your ribs and down your side. The sensation was almost ticklish, yet you didn’t really feel like laughing.

“What kind of—”

That heightened vision you’d held onto for a moment longer faded, fast, and the cockpit swirled and wavered around you. Suddenly the roof of the ship was far, far above you as you registered a distant thudding sound. You felt like you were sinking into a deep pool of water.

There was a pause, and then a deep voice was shouting a single word, once, twice. A familiar, broad-shouldered figure with long, dark hair was hovering over you, waving a hand in front of your face.

“Huh? Ca—Car—” you sputtered out coughs in attempts to say her name. Her head jerked upward and off to her right, barking out words at the occupant of the pilot’s seat. 

“Stay with us, y/n. Come on.” Cara was hovered over you now, poking and prodding at your neck, your wrist. You tried to wave her away, but your hand was too heavy, and it dropped back down over your chest. 

“I’m—I’m fine. I—“ You inhaled sharply when you felt something poke the arm you had just tried to move. Cara had grabbed you by the wrist and you squinted your eyes at her grasp on you to see that she had inserted some sort of gods-awful long needle into your arm. You hissed at the intense burning sensation of whatever was in the vial spreading through your system, and you spat a foul curse at the former shock trooper. 

Her eyes widened slightly at your words, and despite the apparent intensity of the moment you caught her half-grin. 

“Your fly-girl’s got a mouth on her, Mando.”

Mando. It finally registered with you that the Mandalorian was piloting the ship, not you. You weren’t even doing the single job you’d been hired for. In fact, you weren’t quite sure what you were doing at that particular moment, but you did know that you had suddenly started to feel oh so good as whatever had been in that vial trickled through your body.

The bounty hunter had switched spots with Cara moments later, although it took you a bit longer to actually register the change in the body hovering over yours. You felt a rush of cool air as his leather-clad gloves lifted up the right side of your blood-stained shirt.

“Hey now, mister,” you slurred, your eyes narrowing as you lazily grinned up at him. He lifted your off the cold floor of the ship just enough to raise your shirt higher and keep it staying put, taking caution to make sure he didn’t reveal anything that wasn’t necessary. “Maybe you want to think about takin' me to dinner or something before you just—” 

“Stop talking.” He ordered. You immediately obeyed, although the grin on your lips lingered a while longer. He was pulling other supplies from the med kit Cara had hauled over, and then you were feeling something cold and mildly stinging on the skin over your ribs. The eventual light tugging of bandages came soon after, and through your thickening haze you realized that he was speaking to you again.

“What did they do to you?” he questioned, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Got cornered,” you attempted to answer through the sudden dryness in your throat. “Saw you, but. You. K-kid. Didn’t want—”

You couldn’t will more words to come. You titled your head back flat onto the floor, your gaze meeting the visor on Mando’s helmet. Your eyes were quickly drooping, a black fog slowly filling the space around you. The more you willed it away, attempting to turn your head and force your eyes open again, the faster things began to fade. 

“M-Mando, I…”

Then there was nothing at all.

—

You awoke to distant, quiet sounds of whirring ship machinery, flat on your back with your arms at your sides.

Opening your eyes was initially a chore; they felt like they’d been weighed down by some invisible pressure. When you finally adjusted to the dim light in the room, you glanced around with a slight turn of your sore neck. 

This wasn’t where you normally found yourself waking up. This was…this was his bed. His. 

It wasn’t much of a bed, to be fair. Little more than a cot extending from the wall of the ship but…still yet. You were in his realm. 

Attempting to raise yourself up was your next mistake. You cried out at the shockwave of sharp pain that blasted through your side. You collapsed back onto the sheets as you tried to catch your breath.

“S’not a good idea.”

You hadn’t heard the door slide open, but there he was, crossing into the room. His footsteps were slow, measured, as always. You looked over to him, instantly annoyed at how helpless you must have appeared.

He reached your side, his form towering over you as his arms reached out toward you.

“Sit or stand?” he asked.

“Sit, I guess.”

He helped ease you up into a sitting position, and you turned so that your legs hung off the side of the bed. The motion caused your vision to spin, and you pressed a hand to the side of your head as you looked up to him.

“What—what happened?” You’d tried to meet his eyes, well, in the way that you could, but you found you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the stare you knew he was giving you beneath the helmet. “We split up and they caught up with me. I couldn’t get to you, Cara had vanished somewhere, and I…" you hesitated as the memories somewhat stuttered there.

“You lost some blood.” Mando stated simply. “You got back to the ship. Gave you something to knock you out. Something else to help you recover.”

You somewhat recalled being sprawled on the floor of the cockpit. “Yeah…” You pressed your fingers to your temple, and winced at the soreness. “Stars, what was in that thing? Is that even on the market?” 

The slight tilt of Mando’s head was enough to tell you that you didn’t want to know the answer. 

“I need to see. Is that okay?” he asked after a moment. At first you pursed your lips at him, confused, until you realized what he meant.

Oh. Yeah. The massive gash along your side that was the whole reason you were in this situation to begin with.

“Uh…” why were you hesitating? “Y-yeah. That’s okay.” 

You scooted closer to the edge of the bed and straightened your posture. There was a moment of stiff stillness between the two of you; were you going to lift your shirt or should he do it? 

You settled on being the one to move, and reached to pull up your shirt by the hem. You let in bunch up in your fingers as you pulled it higher, higher, stopping right where the wound began. You held it in place with your right hand, internally cringing when you felt the faint crunch of dried blood in the fabric. The bandaging was somewhat haphazard, but thorough, and seemed to be enough to have held back the bleeding from getting any worse. 

Mando took a half-step closer, his hand twitching at his side as if he’d suddenly remembered to ask. “You want to, or me?”

“Ah, I can do it,” you replied. You reached down with your free hand and slowly began to peel away the bandaging that covered your wound. The tug of it against your skin was dulled by the sight of the thing underneath; deep and red and brutal. And this was hours after whatever had been in that e-bacta injection.

You inhaled with a hiss at the sight of it. They’d outnumbered you, normally not an issue because they still couldn’t shoot for shit and you’d been up against much worse countless times before, but one of those rogue bastards just happened to have a jagged-edged viroblade tucked away, ready for the opportunity to strike when you made one wrong half-step. 

You were suddenly flooded with anger and shame for allowing this to happen to yourself, and clenched your fist tighter around your shirt as Mando studied the wound for himself.

“Lucky you didn’t lose anything important.” You assumed that was his way of saying that it looked like it hurt. 

You muttered some offhanded curse under your breath, the heat from your agitation suddenly turning to something else you couldn’t identify when he knelt face-level you and a gloved finger began to ghost over the gash in your skin.

“Why’d an Imp have one of those things?” he questioned, more to himself as he continued to study the wound. You only half-heard him, something about his touch on your skin giving you the sudden urge to launch yourself through the ceiling. 

“Don’t know why you call them that,” you forced yourself to speak, although the falter in your voice most definitely wasn’t subtle. Another finger began to glide along your skin as well, as his touch slowly drifted from where the gash tapered off at your hip.

“That’s not what they are anymore.” Along your ribcage. "They’re just the the shit leftovers.” One fingertip’s length away from the underside of your breast. "I—ah, Mando could you—"

His fingers had stopped running along the wound when you’d spoken, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. Yet he hadn’t pulled away. His head tilted up to yours, and you could feel his gaze from underneath his helmet. That kriffing helmet…

His hand abruptly dropped to rest on his beskar-clad knee. The silence that passed between you was nearly a beat too long to be comfortable for either of you, his concealed stare somehow still burning through you in places that you wouldn’t care to admit, until he stood again and turned to pull something from the opened med pack that rested on the shelf next to his bed. You recognized the jar in his hands to contain some sort of healing salve that, much like the injection, you weren’t entirely sure that just anyone should possess. He held it out to you, not making the offer to touch you again.

Slowly, you rose from the bed, then took the jar. Standing on your feet felt strange, the after-effects of the drugs in your system still giving you the faint feeling of floating.

“You got a mirror?” You asked.

He gestured with his head to the opposite side of the small room. “‘Fresher.”

You nodded and carefully treaded over, getting reacquainted with the feeling in your legs. You stepped into the refresher and placed the jar down on the sink after opening the lid, the chemical-and-plant smell rushing to your nose. You glanced over to a tiny shelf, where a fresh set of your clothes rested. You prayed to some god that might be listening that Cara was the one who had dug through your things to find them and not Mando.

You turned to the mirror then, and saw that you looked just like you thought you would: dark circles under your eyes, dull skin, a bruise under your left eye and a small cut along your cheek.

You didn’t dwell on it for long, and instead began to scoop the salve from the jar and spread it across your wound with light strokes. It was an instant, cooling relief and you nearly sighed at the feeling as you continued to apply it to the entire area. Whatever was in it, albeit primitive and definitely not entirely legal, was already making you feel infinitely better than you’d been when you’d first woken up. 

Mando’s voice came from the other room after a couple minute’s silence.

“Hey, look. I’m…I didn’t mean to lash out at you like that. When you made it back to the ship.” His voice was deeper than you’d heard it before, heavy. “I didn’t know—and I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s alright,” you replied, stepping out to face him again when you’d finished. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

You walked over to meet him, the two of you finally standing face-to-face. “I have a job to do, and I wasn’t here to do it when it mattered. I got caught. I deserved it.”

Mando hadn’t moved toward the bandages as you spoke, leaving you just somewhat awkwardly standing there, holding your dirty shirt halfway off your body in front of him. 

He still didn’t move when he replied. “No. These things happen.”

You found yourself curiously tilting your head at him, a peculiar thudding echoing in your chest. You weren’t used to this. He felt guilty about this? He was just going to accept your mistake? And that was it? 

You could only give him a stiff nod in reply. “O-okay.”

He looked back at you for a brief instance longer before starting to help you re-bandage the wound in your side. No more words were spoken, not until you had dropped your shirt back down over your torso. Not until, again, Mando’s touch had lingered for a little too long, as if something about touching you was something familiar and foreign and entrancing, all at once. You didn’t mind.

Your ears suddenly picked up a shrill chattering that you knew could be nothing other than the child, who was currently squeezing himself between Mando’s feet. The Mandalorian moved so that the little green thing could waddle through, over to you. His huge eyes blinked long and slow, and his tiny, clawed hands reached up towards you.

Mando picked him up instead, and the small creature shot an angry pout toward him. 

“She’s still hurt. Let’s leave her alone for a while."

The child whimpered, his ears drooped low as he turned back to look at you. You smiled weakly at him.

“Hey, kid. We’ll play later, okay?” You reached to rub your thumb and forefinger on one of his dropping ears, causing him to give you a contented sigh of acceptance.

“You can take over when you’re ready.” Mando stated, knowing that already, you were itching to get behind the controls again. It was your job, after all. One scrape wasn’t going to stop you anytime soon. And he wasn’t going to be the one to deny that.

The door shut behind him as he and the kid left, leaving you standing in the center of the room.

On the opposite side, Mando was all but ready to collapse as he leaned his back against the door.

He’d only just been able to quiet the frantic pace of his heartbeat, calmed the heat that had raged through his every nerve at your closeness. The feeling of your skin was intoxicating, even through his gloves, and his brain was still begging for him to just turn back around, take the damned gloves off and—

The child’s puzzled cooing at his ear brought him back down to reality, and he released a breath that he’d been holding for far too long as he lifted himself from the door and began to make his way down the hall.

Oh, was he fucked.

—

tags: @jamesdeerest @nadia-rosea @sanslover69 @backontheolebullshit @sunkissed-winter @rogrsnbarnes @capsironunderoos (If you were tagged you commented on The Pilot and I think you rock! I guess I’ll start an official tag list for this now; if you want to be added please let me know!)