Hi, I'm Oh-myzabrak! (You can find my Ao3 here ➡️ link ) I'm a 20 something year old who loves to read & write. Some of my favorite genres are sci-fi & fantasy 🐉🌿
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Different states in my country are trying to ban erotica & lgbt+ content (and are already surveilling those who write or read it)...I don't know if things are going to go that way here, but just in case my more personal tumblr is @rum-and-honey
(I post fandom stuff, my art & things I like there. I've also been posting art of my Yautja oc's & my Star Wars oc's over on that account! And in the future I plan to post all my Game of Thrones babes 😇)
Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader
Summary: Although you're skilled in the ways of the Force and use that to your advantage in your medbay job, you always thought Luke Skywalker would be the one rescuing you, not the other way around.
Warnings: reader gets shot with a blaster in the arm and leg, but injuries are not described in detail. Canon-typical violence. Reader has been separated from their family at age 10, but kept what exactly happened to them vague for self insert purposes.
A/N: "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force.
Remnants!Reader and Luke's first meeting. This is my first fic in a while and my first time writing action, so please bear with me! Hoping to get back into writing more frequently now. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and my Remnants masterlist can be found linked in my pinned post on my blog! Enjoy!
**
“Careful,” you said as you helped yet another rebel soldier onto the transport heading back to Home One, where you were typically stationed in medbay. But today, someone needed to be on the ground to give first aid to any critically wounded soldiers so they could survive the trip back to base—and that someone had been you. Not out of any obligation. But something felt like it had been pulling you to the dusty plains on-planet, and you were never one to refuse a call from the Force.
A nearby explosion made you jump as the soldier ducked into the small ship. The pilot leaned out the door to shout over the racket, “You coming back as well?”
“I—” There it was again: the pull from this morning. The world stilled as you instinctively let yourself sink further into the Force. Time slowed and you were aware of all the souls on the battlefield, felt their fear, helplessness, rage, as particles of dirt and dust flew everywhere. They seemed to whiz by in slow motion so that you could see every facet of the tiny pieces of debris and in the middle of all the chaos, one particularly powerful presence about to knock on death’s door. They were close and felt different from the others—easier to grasp and hold onto. You’d felt this presence at rebel functions and on Home One before, and just like every time before, it somehow reached back until you were intertwined inexplicably before everything suddenly snapped back.
“Um, hello?” the pilot waved his hand in front of your face. “You coming back or not?”
You blinked. “Sorry. No, I’m staying here.”
“This may be the last transport for a while.”
You felt the presence reach out to you again like a soft hand smoothing over your shoulder and shook your head. “No, I’m staying.”
Another boom and several screams echoed in the distance as he shrugged. “Your funeral.”
You barely waited for the ship’s door to close before tightening the strap of your medical bag and sprinting towards the source of the connection, trying to keep it as steady as possible through the Force. Of course, the one day you left your grandfather’s old lightsaber in your quarters was the day you might need it. Typically, it came with you everywhere, but it was left behind in your rush to play field doctor. Your parents had taught you what they knew of the Force before you’d been separated from them at age 10 and your savior and adoptive father, an old clone that had somehow escaped conversion during the Purge and joined the rebellion named Rex, took over your combat training.
You weaved between the alleyways of abandoned stone houses in pursuit of your goal, hiding behind fallen objects and receiving cover from your comrades as Stormtroopers continued their assault. Although the emperor and Darth Vader were dead and the empire was fractured, small remnants remained here and there, trying to reorganize and reclaim power through their moffs’ and superior officers’ orders.
A blaster shot grazed past your shoulder enough to tear through your jacket. You hissed through your teeth, but otherwise ignored it. The feeling of the presence reaching out through the Force, like a soft hand on your shoulder, came again. The touch was just as gentle, but came with a new sense of urgency, and you quickened your pace as the sounds of battle continued to ring around you.
The presence grew in strength as you reached the end of the maze the neighborhood created. Just as you began to slow your pace so as not to run straight into a crossfire, a Stormtrooper jumped out from behind a nearby dumpster and pulled you down with him. You both writhed on the ground as he wrapped an arm around your neck and his legs around yours, boxing you in. You began rocking your body violently in an attempt to free yourself, managing to free an arm in just enough time to move his blaster away from your neck. He fired just as you moved, getting you at close range right in the calf. You cried out in pain, taking a deep breath before bringing your head forward, then whipping it back as hard as you could.
You winced as the trooper cried out, but didn’t indulge the pounding in your head as his arms fell to his sides. You stood, grabbing his blaster out of his hand and bringing the butt down hard on his helmet. He grunted before going limp. You nudged his foot with yours and when he didn’t move, held tight to the blaster and crouched by the opening to the plain ahead.
Several crashed ships, dumpsters, and debris were scattered over the dirt with a large circle of Stormtroopers and Darktroopers nearby. The presence felt so close that you knew your quarry was in trouble in the middle of it. But this was away from the main fight, and the only other rebels that had been here before were all either unconscious or dead on the ground.
A mechanical beeping nearby caught your attention and you looked just in time to see a Darktrooper round a fallen x-wing. You barely scrambled inside the lid of an overturned dumpster before it began shooting at you. You heard it thunk closer and held your blaster close to your chest. Another softer, more timid set of beeps and whistles sounded just in front of you. You jumped, pointing your blaster toward the sound only to find a little blue astromech wobbling on its legs in front of you.
You breathed a sigh of relief as the Darktrooper continued to descend. You could feel the shots of its blaster shaking the dumpster and leaving searing holes you did your best to avoid. Turning to the astromech, you whispered, “You go around back and electrocute him while I distract him?”
The droid chirped before whizzing out of the dumpster, hugging the side closely. The Darktrooper was close enough now that you could hear the whirring of its ankle joints. You took a deep breath through your nose and blew it slowly out your mouth before squaring your shoulders and whipping around the corner, blaster at the ready.
The imperial droid was barely inches from you as you raised your blaster toward its head. Before it could adjust its aim to shoot you, blue electricity engulfed its frame and it twitched and shook. You scampered back several steps as its head spun in circles, watching it fall to the ground with a solid thud to reveal the astromech. It chirped and beeped cheerfully before wiggling back and forth.
You gave it a small smile and pat on the head. “Good work, buddy—whoa, hey.” A small claw shot out of the droid’s side and grabbed onto your jacket, slowly pulling you towards the x-wing and closer to the circle of imperials.
“Is your master in that circle?”
The droid wiggled his body in what could’ve been a nod, but a Stormtrooper turned to face you before you could reach cover. “Hey! Over there!”
You cursed before diving behind the x-wing as the droid squealed in terror and sped after you. The ship provided decent cover for the moment as blaster shots rained down on you (and some even went far past you; typical Stormtroopers, but you weren’t complaining).
“How are we gonna get out of this one?” you grumbled before peering around the x-wing.
You groaned and pulled back as something small caught the sun's light and blinded you. You risked another look and saw a small, silver cylinder only a few feet away from you in the dirt: a lightsaber. You frowned. It certainly wasn’t yours. And the only other person you knew of in the rebellion who owned a lightsaber was—
Oh. Oh. Now you definitely had to save him.
You turned to the droid beside you. “So that makes you R2?”
The astromech whirred excitedly and if the situation wasn’t so dire, you would’ve laughed at how it seemed proud and excited to be recognized.
You glanced at the lightsaber on the ground again and saw half of the imperials coming towards you while the other half stayed closely huddled around a figure clad in black. Two Darktroopers kept a firm grip on his arms, twisting them behind his back before forcing him to his knees. You made eye contact and felt him reach for you again through the Force, this time with an urgent, unspoken plea to run while you still could.
Closing your eyes, you tuned out R2’s urgent whistles to sink into the calming nature of the Force. You could feel the man’s presence even more clearly now and felt his fear—not for himself, but for you. Not just surprise, but a sort of awe and relief rolled through him in waves at finding someone who he could not only reach for, but who could reach back. You sensed he’d lived his whole life as if he was invisible in the Force and could watch the goings on, but never join. It was like constantly waving at passersby and having all hope squashed of someone ever waving back—until now. He seemed so elated to find someone like him that you were sure it affected his ability to withhold these strong feelings from your connection. You hadn’t even been properly introduced, but he was already cherishing your connection—and fearing whether you would survive long enough to be introduced.
Focus. You honed in on the world around you and time again seemed to slow to a crawl. You locked all your concentration on the weapon in front of you, feeling the Dark and Stormtroopers’ feet move ever closer until they were only a few steps away from what might be your only saving grace. Grab the lightsaber! you thought you heard one shout.
You remembered the Jedi phrase your parents taught you. “I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.” Taking one final deep breath, you let your hand leave the cover of the x-wing to reach towards Luke Skywalker’s weapon.
R2 let out a started beep as the lightsaber zipped into your hand and you ignited the green blade. You took a split second to admire the detail on the hilt before slinging the blaster’s strap over your arm and stepping out into the fray.
You easily batted the blaster fire away—just as you’d practiced for years with Rex and your grandfather’s lightsaber. Several of the shots successfully deflected into the troopers, sending them sprawling on the ground. R2 carefully zipped around the battlefield and incapacitated as many Darktroopers as possible, leaving you a clear shot to Luke.
You slung the blaster off your shoulder and threw it as hard as you could, using the Force to guide the weapon onward. Dust that had kicked up from the fight made it hard to see, but you could sense precisely where everything was through the Force and used it as your guide. You slingshot the gun into the heads of the Darktroopers who were holding Luke hard enough to make them stumble and let go. He took his opportunity and grabbed the gun from where it fell as you continued to deflect fire and cut through armor and mechanics alike.
Although you’d gotten plenty of Force training from your parents, which you’d continued via your grandfather’s journal after you’d been separated, and combat training from Rex, you’d never been in the thick of battle like this before. At least not fighting. You had shot and killed several Stormtroopers before, but always from a distance. Never like this—never close enough to hear their hiss of breath as they fell or the mechanical whirring of a Darktrooper malfunctioning. It was anxiety, relief, and guilt all at once, as well as anger toward the people who had made this conflict necessary in the first place.
Again, you felt a cooling, calming presence wash over you, reminding you that everything would be all right, and you reached back just as gently, even as you both saw to the enemy. The green saber in your hands slashed through the closest Darktrooper, cleaving it straight in two before a low, mechanical growl sounded behind you. You spun, unsure if you could raise your defense in time, but a sudden blaster shot clean through the head rendered it useless. You stepped out of the way as it crashed to the ground.
You urgently looked around, adrenaline pumping wildly, before realizing the only sound you could hear nearby was your own heavy breathing. All the troopers lay scattered on the ground around you with no more in sight who could pose a threat. You sheathed the saber’s blade, taking comfort in the soft whoosh it made, before closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing. In the sudden silence, a steady wind whistled across the plain. By force of habit, you reached out to check that Rex was safe and finally let yourself fully relax when you sensed that he was.
The familiar presence reached out to you again, this time from just in front of you. Although this battle wasn’t the first time you’d sensed it, you’d never had a chance to feel just how strong and solid it was. It was light like air, but somehow also steady and unwavering, with a twinge of darkness but a steadfast choice not to give into it. Even though you’d just now really met, it had the comforting sense of coming home to an old friend and it was hard not to already feel a level of affection for him because of it. You could feel his affection and curiosity flowing back to you in equal measure. It made you almost afraid to open your eyes in case this homecoming within the Force was all a dream and would melt away.
A warm, rough surface brushing against the back of your hand forced you to finally look. The hero of the rebellion stood in front of you, his fingers gently brushing the hand still holding his lightsaber. His eyes were even more blue than the sky above you, but somehow the icy color still held a warmth and concern unlike any you’d ever seen. He made himself so open and after all the stories about what he’d lost and how many imperials he killed, it was shocking in a way that made you want to protect him at all costs. His face, although worn and scarred, held so much depth and kindness and you wondered what kind of hell he’d gone through to come through war with so much love to give still—and you could sense exactly how much he still had in him through your bond, and how excited he was to maybe share some of that with the first Force-sensitive person his age. There was a weight to him, but it somehow felt settled, as if he’d accepted himself as he was and the heaviness as just another part of him. His signature held a bittersweet taste: half melancholy, half hope for a better future.
It didn’t help your gawking that he was strikingly handsome—strong jaw with a jacket and pants that fit him like a glove and showed off his toned physique. Not to mention the actual glove on his right hand and the fact that he’d made sure to touch you with the uncovered one for skin-to-skin contact. The wind brushed his brown hair over his forehead and you couldn’t help but notice how tan his skin was and how calloused his hands were. You thought you remembered whisperings of the rebellion’s Boy Wonder who blew up the Death Star starting out as a clueless moisture farmer from Tatooine, but got too lost in the planes of his face to focus.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his hand still gently brushing yours and pulling you back to the present.
“Yeah,” you breathed out, surprised to sense him having a similar struggle through the Force. “Here’s your lightsaber back.”
He took it from your hand, letting his fingers linger against yours for what felt like a deliberately long moment before reattaching it to his belt. “Thank you for the help.”
“You seemed like you could use a rescue.”
He smiled and you had to remind yourself to breathe at the sight. “Yes, I got a bit caught off guard with the sheer number of them.”
R2 suddenly whirred and rolled over to stand by his master’s side, beeping excitedly. You both chuckled at his antics as Luke put a comforting hand on his dome. “I’m Luke—”
“Skywalker,” you finished. “I know.”
You regretted saying anything as he gave a stilted nod, suddenly bashful and very interested in his shoes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right.” He met your eyes again and gave you a small smile. “You work in medbay, right? You’re Y/N?”
You tried your best to hide your elation that Luke Skywalker knew who you were, but he undoubtedly picked up on it through the Force. “Yeah, I was on field doctor duty today, but…felt you and that you needed help.”
“I felt you too…” he paused, seeming unsure, before continuing. “I think I’ve felt you several times throughout the war, actually, but could never put a finger on exactly what I was feeling. I guess I never realized another Force-sensitive would feel different to me than someone who isn’t—minus my masters, of course.” He hesitated again. “It…feels good to find someone else who knows the ways of the Force.”
Now it was your turn to inspect your shoes bashfully. “Yeah, it does for me, too.” As you felt the last of the adrenaline leave your body and your eyes landed on the blaster wound on your leg, pain suddenly came pounding to the surface, as did the graze on your shoulder. You weren’t sure how you’d managed to fight as well as you did with injuries, but adrenaline could be a funny thing. The burning, however, was not so funny.
“Are you hurt?” Luke asked, closing the distance between you and gently touching your intact shoulder. You could feel fear stab through to color his Force signature as he frowned, following your eyes to your leg and wincing.
“I’m all right—”
“Anywhere else?”
You sighed, somehow knowing you’d be unable to lie to him. “A shot grazed my arm, but I’m okay—”
“Here, um—” He paused as he looked around. “Where’s somewhere you can sit…”
R2 tittered as he dragged an overturned wooden crate over with his retractable claw.
“Thanks, buddy,” you said as you flopped down harder than you meant to, moving your medical bag to sit on the ground next to you. You opened the flap and began to dig, but Luke’s hands, which dwarfed your own, stopped you.
“Please, let me—unless you’d prefer to do it?”
His blue eyes were pleading as he stared up from where he’d crouched in front of you, leaving you unsure how anyone could say no to him. “Um, no, if you want to…” You gestured awkwardly to your bag. “Do you need me to talk you through it?”
He chuckled. “Oh no, I’ve had to do this for myself many times—I mean, you work in medbay though, so of course, if you’d prefer—”
“Um, no, you can go ahead.”
“You are the expert, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
You both stared awkwardly at each other for a moment before laughing and quickly looking elsewhere. As he dug through your supplies, you could see a slight pink tinting his cheeks, filing the image away deep in your mind. The fact that you, of all people, had made him blush felt like something to be proud of.
As he cleaned and bandaged your leg and arm (you didn’t think it warranted a bandage, but he insisted), you told each other of your upbringings, stories from your time in the rebellion, and even sat there for several minutes after the dressings were completed to talk about hobbies and music preferences before your wrist comm beeped.
“All right there, soldier?” Rex’s voice floated through the speakers.
“Yeah,” you answered back. “Minor injuries, but I’m fine. I’m with Commander Skywalker and R2-D2.”
“Skywalker?” Rex asked, his voice cracking slightly.
“Y-yeah?” You frowned at Luke, but he simply shrugged, looking just as confused.
Rex cleared his throat. “Ah, well, good. The final transport just landed for stragglers. Can you make it here, or need us to come pick you up?”
“I think I’m good to walk.”
Luke gave you a look and although you realized you were looking at your superior, you couldn’t help pulling a face, using your forefinger to pull the tip of your nose up to show him just what you thought of that. He snorted and seemed surprised by the sound that came out of his own mouth, turning his head to smother his laugh as Rex gave you the coordinates.
“We should be there in 10-15 minutes tops.”
“Copy that, kiddo. See you soon.”
R2 twittered next to you.
Luke chuckled. “He says you can ride him back to the ship if you want.”
You smiled, but shook your head. “It’s not too bad. I’ll be fine, but thanks, R2.”
Luke helped you stand, keeping his hands on your upper arms to steady you.
You swallowed nervously. “I know you technically are a commander, so sorry if any of that,” you gestured vaguely towards where you’d been sitting, “was, um, out of line or anything.”
Luke’s face fell and he shook his head, rubbing your arms gently. “No, no, please. We’re Jedi. We have to stick together. There’s no rank here.”
“Well, I mean, I’m not technically a Jedi.”
“I could teach you if you’d like. It seems like you have some to teach me as well.”
You smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”
He sighed in relief, as if he thought you might refuse. “Promise you’ll lean on me if your leg gets to be too much on the way back?”
You nodded, hoping you didn’t appear too smitten as he stayed close and kept a hand on the small of your back the entire walk back to the ship.
How would a male yautja react to being peppered in kisses and babied with mountains of praise all because he got hurt during a hunt?
Your Yautja Mate Being Spoilt After a Hunt:
At first, he's offended.
He assumes your praise and fussing are you babying him, thinking he isn't strong enough to handle it on his own, that a little bit of pain would be his downfall.
He has acquired many injuries in his life, many of witch have left scars behind. Each scar he wears proudly, each evidence of all the fights he had won.
When you got an injury, you tended to it and moved on. The pain barely even registered with him anymore.
So, he assumes you think he's weak and unable to look after himself, unable to protect you, a poor hunter and fighter.
But you're just cooing at him, cradling his head in your arms and peppering kisses over his face. All of your words were kind, your concern genuine but not accusing him of being weak.
You were lathering him with praise, gushing about how strong and brave he was, how impressive his hunt was.
It almost feels like too much, like it might be insincere, but he knows it isn't.
He remembers that you're human, that your culture is very different to his. When you see a loved one wounded, your instinct is to care for them unlike Yautjas with other adults.
And he does adore all of your affection and softness.
So he leans into your touches, purring when you kiss his face, preening when you stroke your hands over him.
He might not actually be hurt but he'll let you think he is if you're going to give him so much attention.
If anyone else where to treat him like this, he'd bristle and snarl, but your intentions are so sincere and caring.
"Such an impressive hunt, I knew I chose well. Such a strong and capable mate. Let me tend to you."
Yes, he was the perfect mate for you. Perfect for protecting and loving you.
Another purr vibrates up and out of his chest as he nuzzles at your skin.
You can offer to get him food or check his wound, but he grabs hold of you and nuzzles closer.
He really is fine but would never turn down your affection, so why don't you just keep being the sweetest mate ever.
Summary: The Hound makes an interesting discovery about his new bedmate
Word count: 611
Author's note: Have some Sance fluff & slight humor! The Hound can only stay nice for so long lol. Tumblr wouldn't stop crashing when I went to my drafts so this is very late
Cw - Brief implications of abuse in the Hound's childhood (though it's only one sentence)
***
He eyes her. All barely above five foot of her. "Little bird," He says again.
Alice tenses. All contained fury.
The corner of Sandor's mouth twitches upwards in a smirk. "What's wrong?"
"Isn't that your nickname for Sansa?"
Sandor snorts. "That's what I call all you highborn ladies."
A flurry of emotions goes across her face in seconds. Like clouds reflected across a pond's surface. Tiny expressions that Sandor's not sure that he's interpreting correctly. Relief. Annoyance. Disappointment. Jealousy.
He chuckles softly. "You're jealous," He says. "Jealous of a little girl."
The highborn lady won't meet his eyes.
"Look at you, jealous of a child," The Hound croons.
She cocks her head slightly. "Is she a little girl to you? The amount of men that I've seen lately, drooling over the tits that she's just grown."
He scoffs softly. "Do you think me such a foul beast as that? To go after a maid not even flowered?"
Alice watches him with those storm gray eyes. Quiet as cat's feet.
"I would kill any man that touches her." Sandor gently grips her chin in calloused fingers. "Look at the pretty raven, getting her feathers all ruffed up because of the direwolf." He tucks a strand of hair behind the young widow's ear.
"So you do not care for her?" The words are slow, measured.
He shakes his head. Honest as a dog, as always.
"I'm sorry," She murmurs. "I know that was irrational of me."
The Hound slides his hand along her jaw, so he's holding her cheek. Stroking the soft skin with a thumb. "You should spend less time with the court. You're starting to think the way that they do, little bird. Always expecting the worst of me." His tone is low and teasing.
Footsteps. Coming down the hall. Lady Alice hears them first. With her ears that haven't been slammed into walls by older brothers or fathers. Or struck by weapons in the practice yard or on the battlefield. She steps back so he's no longer touching her, and then further still. Until they're at an appropriate distance. The passing serving girl gives them a cursory glance, but no more.
As soon as the footsteps have died away, they're back together again. The Hound watching the funny little widow, who against all odds seems to care for him as more than a quick tumble...
He takes a step closer to her. "You should see how the other men around the keep look at you. Drooling over you like a piece of meat. Drives me half mad." He captures her chin again and forces her to look up. "You have nothing to fear from Sansa Stark, girl. You shouldn't worry about her or any other lady. They all have nothing on you. Nothing. You have beauty and brains both. And that's more than what can be said for most people." He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. "You know what I like, and she could never give it to me."
She looks up at him with a soft, adoring expression that makes his heart clench.
"No," Alice says slowly. "She wouldn't know how you like it soft one minute and then like I hate you the next."
He gives a grunt of agreement. "The girl is innocent and soft. All blushes and dreams of dashing princes," He says. "She can't give me what I need."
Alice smiles at him and goes up on tiptoe to kiss him. He obliges and bends for her. When he parts from her, he smirks wickedly at how happy she looks.
"So when are you getting rid of Ser Henry?"
Her smile instantly dies.
**Ser Henry is Lady Alice's main suitor (much to the Hound's annoyance)
