Hello I was wondering if you could do a Han Solo x reader were they can’t stand each other and get handcuff tougher and they can’t get the handcuffs off because they lost the keys. So they have to spend at least a week together and at the end they fall in love. And get out of the handcuffs. Thank you for reading this and thank you if you do write this one 😃.
AN: Whew boy, this is a long one! I hope you like this!
“What do you mean you lost it?”
Han turned, the sharp movement was enough to jerk you close to him as you were still, literally, chained to the smuggler. Your shoulder rammed against his and, after a disgruntled huff, you pulled away. Han gave you a pointed glare before turning to face his copilot.
“Chewie here says he lost the key.”
Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head and you rushed towards the towering form of the Wookiee. Chewbacca recoiled from your approach and had a seemingly sheepish grin on his face as he retreated. Anger and dread mixed in your chest at the thought of being stuck to Han Solo a minute longer. You squinted your eyes and peered up at Chewbacca.
“What do you mean you lost it?”
Chewie roared softly, guiltily, and pressed his furry paws, one which was wrapped in gauze, to the side of his head. Looking for a translation, you turned your sharp gaze to Han. His lips were drawn in a thick scowl, complete with a slightly furrowed brow that only made his eyes darker.
“He said Leia gave him the key. Then he dropped it,” Chewbacca growled and raised his wounded hand. “He dropped it when he got shot at. Shot at?! That’s your excuse? We get shot at all the time!”
Han continued to berate Chewie, his voice and the Wookiee’s roars echoing out from under the Millenium Falcon. The three of you were waiting on the loading ramp which gave everyone who passed by the hulking vessel a show of the argument. You had given up trying to interrogate the Wookiee and busied yourself in studying the chain that now connected you to Han Solo for the unforeseeable future. It wasn’t an Imperial remote lock. No, it was some old fashioned contraption that probably had roots in the days of the Old Republic. Perhaps, you dared to entertain the thought, the Jedi used something similar.
You pulled on the intricately engraved metal with blind hope. The action only managed to yank Han closer to you, to the point where you had to step back to keep on your feet.
“Will you stop with the pulling?!”
“I’m trying to see if there’s an easy way out.”
“There isn’t,” Han spat, “unless you want to cut off your hand. We could ask Luke to help with that. I’m sure he could help you out!”
You blood was boiling, your skin aflame with rage. After all you had been through together, with Luke and Leia, and Han still had the gull to put his own pride before the Rebellion. Even after Jabba’s Palace, after saving him, the smuggler had the nerve! You curled your hands into tight fists and let the anger take hold.
You and Han turned together at the light sound of Leia’s voice. Her once pristine, brown hair was now ratty in places; some of the longer locks had slipped down her shoulder. Despite her outward appearance, Leia held herself in her signature, collected manner that never failed to impress you. When you glanced up at Han, you saw he was impressed too.
Another roar from Chewie broke the mounting swill of feelings in your chest: the anger, the exhaustion, and, looking at Han looking at Leia like that, the confusion.
“Well,” Leia’s features broke into a wry smile, “it seems you two are quite stuck on each other.”
Your mouth fell open in shock but you found no purchase in your voice. Han, on the other hand, started to laugh. He leaned back and let the chuckle rattle in his chest for longer than you felt was necessary. Slightly offended, you jerked your left hand and pulled Han to attention. The smuggler grumbled a curse his breath and squinted his eyes at you. Just as he was about to, you assume, say something rude, Leia intervened.
“Enough, now. Let me see.”
In the hopes of getting as far from Han as you could, you lifted your left hand out to Leia. Han’s right hand lifted with the movement and Leia was able to inspect the cuff. Carefully, she traced her fingertips along the engravings you had studied only a minute before. You followed her finger’s movement and thought your eyes were playing tricks on you.
All of you had been up, working on this mission for days without proper rest. You told yourself it was the lack of sleep. It had to be. You were simply bordering on delirium. What else to explain the way the engraved runes glowed under Leia’s touch?
“Uh…” You glanced up at Han whose eyes were focused on Leia’s hand as well. A moment later, he met your eyes with the same surprise you felt.
“Hmm,” Leia pulled her hand back, “Luke could help with this.” Whatever curiosity the strange glow of the runes sparked in Han died. At the mention of the farm boys name, he groaned. You, however, light up with satisfaction; anything to make Han squirm with jealousy.
“Where is Luke?” Your tone was much too excited, to the point where it nearly betrayed your teasing intent. Leia saw right through you and smiled.
“He’s on his own mission, sadly.”
“You’re sayin’ we’re stuck like this?” Han raised your connected hands and pointed an angry finger at the princess. She simply pushed his unhindered hand to the side and sighed.
“For now, yes,” Leia glanced behind her, “we’ve caused such a mess here. We need to stay and help.” Han leaned back and shook his head.
“When I signed up for this, I wasn’t stickin’ around for humanitarian causes. I want to get me and my ship outta here before the Empire bites back.”
Chewbacca roared softly in seeming agreement. You yanked your left hand again and pulled Han’s attention to you.
Han held your gaze and, for a moment, you felt as you were getting through to him. You also noticed that, while you believed his eyes were dark in color, they were more hazel. The flecks of green were an especially vibrant viridian.
“I don’t,” Han glanced at Leia then back to you, “I…can’t we try shootin’ this thing off?!”
Chewie roared and, when you glanced at the towering creature, he was already aiming his bowcaster at the cuffs. Fear ran through you and you started to shake your head.
“No, no,” Leia raised her hands and pushed the weapon aside. “Whatever this is, it’s not your average bindings.”
The Wookiee growled begrudgingly but clipped his bowcaster to his back. You let yourself breathe again, relief flooding through your veins. Your hand would stay intact, at least for now. When you looked up at Han, ready to scold him for the stupid idea, you saw him already looking at you. There was some unreadable expression on his face that, to you, looked almost like worry. You had never seen Han worry, but it only lasted for a second before his frown melted into a scowl.
“How are we supposed to …do anything!?”
Leia shrugged. “I’ll try to contact Luke. In the meantime,” Leia strode up into the Falcon, “you’ll just have to get along.”
As she disappeared into the belly of the ship, Chewie let out a light grumble. It sounded almost like he was laughing. And, apparently, he was because Han punched the Wookiee in the shoulder. The Wookiee roared but Han glared at him.
“Nothing,” Han snapped before starting to walk into the Falcon. After three steps, you started to be pulled behind him. You glanced back at Chewie who, in a very human, Han-like action, brought his furry hand to cover his mouth; as if he were masking a smile.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” you muttered.
“What was that?” Han stopped walking as he asked and you ran into his back. Awkwardly, you stepped back and clenched your jaw tight to keep from screaming at him. He raised his hands in a dramatic shrug, a silent challenge. You swallowed your fury and took a deep, trembling breath.
“If we’re going to be stuck for a while, we need to set a few ground rules so that-“
“Rules?” Han raised a brow and set his hands on his hips. “I don’t do rules, sweetheart.”
“Then I guess we’ll just wing the toilet situation when we come to it then?” The confidence on Han’s face melted away into slight disgust. “Yeah,” you sighed with a smile, “that’s what I thought.”
You walked past Han rattling off your ideas on how to handle said ‘toilet situation’ and let the cuff joining your hands together tug him after you. The rest of the day consisted of a lot of tugging and pulling, grumbling and shouting.
At one point, Han tried to complete a diagnostic test on the Falcon’s system. He was sat in the pilots chair and due to his position, you were standing at his side. When he reached his right hand up to flip the thruster switch, you were pulled up with it. You hit your head on the sloping cockpit space-shield with a clang. On instinct, you winced and yanked your left hand back which threw Han back against the pilot’s seat.
“You watch it,” you had fired back. You had rubbed at your head in a vain attempt of dulling the pain. Sadly, being attached to Han for so long turned the pang into a persistent headache. The soreness lasted until you were too tired to feel it.
When it came to sleeping arrangements, you and Han had it out.
“Someone needs to stay up and watch the ship!”
“Isn’t that what your furry first mate is for?”
Chewie roared loudly but his tone wasn’t angry, at least as far as you could tell. Han’s reaction on the other hand, was quite unnerved.
“Quiet, fuzzball,” Han snapped. Chewie grumbled something that only seemed to add to Han’s anger. “I said, quiet!”
“We need to sleep,” you said, giving a solid yank to your bindings. Han turned his glare from Chewbacca to you. You were much too tired to care.
“Listen here,” Han pointed a finger at you, “you’re not callin’ the shots for me. I only listen to me!”
You cocked your head to the side and Han’s demeanor faltered for a moment. It looked like concern, however brief the furrowed brow was. His nose crinkled when he met your gaze, as he studied your drooping eyes. A softness spread along his features, something you had never seen quite so blatantly on Han’s face before.
He let his hand fall back to his side and he sighed. “Alright, alright. Fine, what do you think? Mine or yours?”
The question caught you off guard. Of course, once reason caught up with your mind, it made sense. He was simply asking which quarters you were going to stay in. Only you realized that the Falcon only had one room that had a bed large enough for the two of you to share. Han’s quarters; there wasn’t really much choice.
Han was baiting you; he wanted you to say it. He wanted you to invite yourself into his room. Where did he get off?!
“Mine could do.” You suggested it coolly, trying not to let on just how much this whole new dilemma set you on edge.
Han raised a brow and you already knew he found your word suspicious. Part of you wondered if the cuffs were to blame; perhaps whatever Jedi tricks the metal had been infused with gave the wearer more insight. Granted, most binding are meant to be shared. Could Jedi have so much foresight? You’d have to ask Luke…
“Really?” Han gave you a questioning look.
“Yeah, it’d be cramped but it could work.” Han’s nostrils flared with slight annoyance and his eyes, which now that you were so close to him looked more green than brown, squinted to peer down at you. Before Han could press you again, Chewie roared from the co-pilot’s chair. Whatever the Wookiee said had caught Han’s attention.
“Nothing important,” Han grumbled as he turned his gaze from his first mate. “Let’s just…just go.”
Before you could catch up with the quick fire glances between the two friends, you were being pulled into the belly of the Falcon. Han was trailing you after him so quickly you would have thought he had to use the toilet. Your eyes caught the shine of his hair under the light, how soft it looked. You were so tired you let your hazy mind entertain the thought of touching it.
You passed through the stark halls of the Falcon, watching different rooms go past. It was then it dawned on you that Han was truly taking you to your room. You had assumed he was just going to lead you to his room. Knowing Han, tugging people into his room was probably his favorite pastime.
Instead, the door to your cramped quarters whooshed open. Lights in the ceiling flickered on, illuminating the small bed in the corner and you scattered belongings. Small trinkets that you had collected through your time with the Rebellion littered the squat dresser on the far left wall of your room. It wasn’t much, but it was home for now.
“You spruced up the place, huh?” Han eyed you with only humor in his expression. There was not a hint of malice in his voice.
“I try,” you replied, too tired to effort into playing along. You glanced at the bed then Han again. The smuggler was uncharacteristically quiet, looking at anywhere but at you. Awkwardly, you shifted your weight and spoke up. “So, how do you want to do this?”
It was then that Han met yours gaze. His sharp features wore a softened expression, hinting at a gentleness you weren’t expecting from Han.
“You can…you can take the bed.” You furrowed your brow but were too exhausted to protest. With quick, almost nervous steps, you walked over to your bed and sat down. Han waited and, for the first time, he didn’t know how to hold himself. The bravado faded from his face and his shoulders sloped forward, making his strong frame look small.
You reached towards the end of your bed until your finger wrapped a swath of thick fabric. It was industrial-grade material made for warmth rather than comfort. You wondered what Han was planning as you handed him the blanket. He muttered a thank you before laying the fabric out on the ground.
“Han, don’t be ridiculous. We can-“
“Stop it, will ya? Get some sleep,” Han huffed as he laid down on the blanket. His right hand, connected to your left by the cuff was stiff. He kept it leaned up, bent at the elbow so you could move your right hand without much fight. It was thoughtful.
You turned on your side so that your left hand hung off the edge of the bed. Sleep called for you, stole your voice and strength to fight Han anymore. Your eyes grew heavy and your breathing steadied as your vision began to fade. Yet, the deepness of Han’s voice kept you from falling asleep.
You sighed before letting your eyes fully close. Slowly, you peeled them open and saw him. Han had tucked his free hand and arm underneath his head as a poor man’s pillow; despite speaking to you, his gaze was locked on the ceiling.
“Night laserbrain,” you fires back in a sleepy voice.
With your final insult hurled, the lights in your quarters flickered once. Then, they flicker again before turning off completely.
“Ow…” Han was rubbing his head when you came to. Thick strands of his hair stuck up in places, messed up from sleep. You had to bite back the smile that threatened to spread along your lips.
“Sleep well?” You asked it with a teasing grin, hoping it hid your true smile well. Han looked up at you with a glare.
“Yeah, fantastic,” Han snapped with a caustic tone.
Your rolled your eyes and mentally prepared to get up and moving. On cramped legs, Han stood. With him, your left hand rose. Due to moving in your sleep, the cuff had rubbed the skin red. You winced when the binding fell a certain way on your wrist.
“What is it?” You looked up at Han’s question and nearly floundered under his worried gaze.
“Nothing.” Han raised his brows and you shrugged. “Really, nothing.”
“Lemme see,” he said, leaning over to where you sat up on your bed. Before you could pull your hand away, Han had it in his grasp. The skin of his palm was rough from where he gripped the steering grip of the Falcon. But his touch was soft, careful.
“It’s fine,” you snapped, but you didn’t pull your hand away. Han’s fingers nudged the cuff farther down your wrist and traced the raw skin beneath with more care than any medical droid.
“You should still get it looked at,” he said softly, “who knows what could be on these.” Han straightened his posture and let your hand fall from his. “C’mon.”
“The last thing we need is you missing a hand. There are only so many cybernetic hands left and Luke might need them all.”
