#mark hamill x reader

[annmaximoff18]

R2-D2 starts making noises.

Y/N: Your astromech droid just asked me out on a date... with you.

Luke, blushing, looks at R2-D2, very embarrassed: yes?

Y/N: Pick me up at eight.

R2-D2 happily makes noises as he speeds away, leaving them both behind.

[heart-of-a-halfling]

TRADITION

Master!Luke Skywalker x Padawan!Reader

Luke Skywalker is on a mission to rebuild the Jedi Order, using traditional methods, training and ideology from the Jedi Code.

His first ever student makes him question tradition.

slow burn | forbidden love | mild angst | smut MDNI

no use of y/n | AFAB reader | third person pov

set just before the Book of Boba Fett

word count: 14k

masterlist | fic recs | ao3

a/n: this is my first published fic in a very, very long time so constructive criticism is welcomed!

Training under Luke Skywalker was difficult. 

 Despite being a polite and gentle man, his methods of teaching were strict and calculated - each lesson was designed to have a specific outcome and he always made sure she came out of it with the skill and knowledge he intended. This often meant early mornings and late nights, aching muscles and a brain that felt like jelly after focussing on strengthening her connection to the Force. 

 The most difficult part of training under Luke Skywalker, however, was Luke Skywalker himself. 

 She had been new to this galaxy when he found her. She honestly doesn’t quite know how she even managed to get from Earth the planet of Tatooine. It involved her bizarrely finding a broken down ship in the woods near her house and somehow getting taken into space by the inhabitants of said ship, ending up galaxies away and missing the primitive planet Earth. 

 The men that brought her to the desert planet were smugglers, who swore they saved her life because they were certain that whatever debt collectors they had chasing after them would’ve killed her if they knew that she’d seen them. And yet, after many weeks of travelling and not getting along, they just left her on this rock to fend for herself with no knowledge of where she was or how to get home, like true saviours.

 Thankfully, however, due to having to help her kidnappers fix their ship after every firefight they got into, she'd found a talent in mechanics, and managed to get by working for Peli Motto, fixing up whatever rust buckets came through her hangars in Mos Eisley Spaceport. 

 Peli’s hangars were usually home to bounty hunters and smugglers, working for the Bounty Hunters Guild or the Hutts and were just as rough and grimy as you’d expect them to be. And while the odd everyday traveller would come through, it was rarely a special occasion and usually ended with the older woman she called her boss scaring them off with her no-nonsense attitude, always telling it like it is.

 So when a ship landed and Peli stopped mid-curse when she turned and saw the x-wing sitting in her Hangar, back straightening when she saw the pilot, the Earthling woman knew he had to be serious business. 

 She moved to stand beside Peli, watching the lid of the ship lift to reveal who was possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen unbuckling himself from his seat. She found that her own back straightened without realising it as she watched him, clad in black, perfectly fitting robes, pristine black boots and a single gloved hand. She side eyed Peli for any hint or explanation as to who this was and why he seemed so important. 

 Peli caught her gaze but ignored her, boisterously walking over to the ship, welcoming him as the mystery man lifted himself out of the cockpit. 

 His feet hit the ground and he regarded her boss with a polite smile, resting his clasped hands behind his back as he gave her a small bow in thanks.

 She decided to walk out after Peli, moving out from under the shade of the tool shop and into the sunlight of the open hangar. The blonde man's eyes lifted to meet hers, as if knowing she’d been there all along and gave a small nod, a look on his face that seemed almost… determined. Like he had something planned.

 After a while of Peli talking his ear off and offering him any repairs he needed or even a service on his ship free of charge, he finally explained that he was there for a reason. And boy, was it not what she expected. 

 He introduced himself as Luke Skywalker and the young woman shared a look with Peli, eyes wide. She recognised the name from the Holothrillers she and her boss would watch together late at night in the tool shop, as they ate their bland dinners with greasy hands while Peli elaborated on some of the plot points, explaining how the actions in the films had actually affected the rest of the galaxy in real life and where she was and what she was doing when the events happened. 

 The younger woman had quickly grown enamoured by the story, asking Peli a million and one questions about the Empire and Luke Skywalker and she’d since only known him as the farm boy who became a Jedi and defeated the Empire. A Historical figure. A man she’d never meet. And yet, here he was. 

 He explained that he was on a mission to rebuild the Jedi Order, and that he had been searching for others who were Force-sensitive to help rebuild it with him. He said he’d already contacted many. Used the Force to find them and travelled to ask them for their assistance, offering to train them if they needed. But they’d all turned him down. 

 There had been rumours of a band of Inquisitors, Jedi Killers, still on the hunt, despite the Great Jedi Purge ending over 6 standard years ago, not long before the fall of the Empire. This rumour had made the surviving Jedi, Force-users and parents with Force-sensitive children anxious to reveal themselves for fear of their lives. 

 It was an understandable fear, one that the lone Jedi found reasonable. Though, it was tiresome to travel to so many different planets to make the same speech, only to get turned down out of fear. 

 Luke explained that he could feel the Earthlings' connection to the Force. It was distant and lacking strength, but still, there was something there that could be worked upon, that could be strengthened with the correct training. He’d travelled there, to her workplace and makeshift home just to ask her to join him, to train with him and become a Jedi Knight and use her knowledge to train others and keep the Jedi Order alive. To rebuild what was lost to the Dark Side for many years. 

 Maybe it was her ignorance on the matter due to her brief time in this galaxy, or maybe it was simply the desperate look in his beautiful eyes. But after a bit of convincing and advice from Peli to do what she felt was right - she’d accepted his offer.

 The next day, they’d travelled to Ossus where Luke and many builder droids had been and were continuing to build a new Jedi Temple, to be fit with enough rooms and space to train whole generations of Force-sensitive children when the time was right. But for now, the only occupants of the large Temple were just her and her new Master, Luke Skywalker. 

 He’d had servant droids take her measurements and get her fitted for her own set of Padawan robes as well as a whole new wardrobe of sleep and casual attire, suitable for the Temple. And despite being thankful for the new, perfectly-fitted apparel, she fought tooth and nail until the droids finally allowed her to keep her ill-fitting, grease-stained overalls in the back of her wardrobe, only after they had been deep-cleaned. She knew she may never get the chance to wear them again, much to her dismay, but she couldn’t bear to part with them.

 She was a lot older than most Padawan ever were. Most were trained as young children through to adulthood, where they’d be deemed true Jedi Knights by the age she already was, but desperate times called for desperate measures. There were only a handful of Jedi left, after all, and even less who were willing to aid the New Jedi Order. 

 So, in an attempt to make up for lost time, she tried her absolute hardest, diving head-first into her training. She spent her days learning from her Master and her nights in the Temple library, studying the history of her predecessors, staying up much too late and waking up much too early just to do it all over again.

 She was passionate and hardworking, things that she prided herself on. Her work ethic prevailed over anything else… Usually. 

 See, she had an issue. She was great with history. She’d gotten to a point just mere weeks into her training that she could recite a play-by-play of the Clone Wars if asked to, and found herself absolutely enthralled by every piece of information that she absorbed in that library, going through the thickest history books within a single day if she ever got the privilege of having one off - which was rare. But she excelled in this area because she could do it alone.

 Connecting with the Force, physical training or anything else she had to work on with Master Luke was where she struggled. Simply because, well… 

 She found him so distracting. 

 At first, it was nearly unbearable. She would flush every time he would touch her to position her body during training. She'd get caught up thinking about him when she was meant to be meditating. She'd stutter when he'd ask her questions that should've been simple to answer, like how she slept or about the book she’d stayed up too late reading. 

 It was like she was in high school again, crushing over a boy so badly that even the mildest of interactions had her smiling goofily at herself when she lay in bed that night, excited to go to sleep just so she could see him again the next day. But this was worse. Much, much worse. 

 Because not only was this man her teacher, her Master. It was also written, directly into the scriptures that she read every night before she went to sleep.

     A Jedi does not act for personal power or wealth.

But only seeks knowledge and enlightenment.

 This scripture, whilst it encourages selflessness and promotes the importance of preserving the knowledge of not only the Jedi, but the galaxy itself, the things that make up the environment around them, also means something deeper, more complicated. And it’s everywhere - all throughout the Jedi Code.

      There is no emotion, there is peace. 

 When master Luke had first shared the Mantra with her a few weeks ago, and recited the oath she must take, she had asked him to elaborate. To explain every rule she was meant to follow and every promise she had to keep. She’d been excited. Eager to learn more of her new life, and the things that lay within it. 

 But the news had been crushing to her. When she realised that attachment was not frowned upon, not thought of as taboo, but forbidden entirely, she’d gone quiet.

 The thought rolled through her head over and over, until it didn’t sound real anymore and Luke's usually relaxed face fell into a small frown, watching her absorb the information.

”I…” She began, a lump forming in her throat that she had to swallow. “I’m to never get married? … Never have children?” She asked, tears welling in her eyes. 

He was hesitant to respond, able to see, able to feel the sadness within her. The weight of this new knowledge, crushing. He sighed, saddened to have to hurt her further by reconfirming;

“Emotions can cloud our thoughts. These clouds can lead us into unfathomable darkness.” He’d responded, bluntly. “Only those who find a way to rise above the darkness are deemed worthy to become Jedi.”

 It was a hard hurdle to get over, to accept, having always thought of herself as the kind to fall in love, get married and settle down. Become a mother, start a family. Eventually. When she met one who was worthy of her love and her, theirs. 

 But over time, she grew to accept her new way of life. As her connection to the Force grew, so did her understanding of the Dark Side and the necessity of that rule. 

 With her academic knowledge of the Force, her determination and the uphill battle that was shoving her crush down. Way deep, deep down. She began excelling at her training. She was able to meditate fully with little to no distraction, had found their day exercises across the creeks and forests of Ossus easier to handle and she even managed to blush only a little when he touched her body during their hand-to-hand combat lessons. 

 It was now, only in her free time that she found herself thinking of him. After he dismissed her for the day and she was no longer required to have to think of him professionally. It was only in the safety of her quarters, in the dark of night as she lay in bed, that she allowed herself to think of his bare hand touching her skin and the fire she felt in her stomach whenever it did. His chest, warm and inviting, vibrating with his voice as he told her how to position her hands to produce the most amount of force in combat. His biceps, that she’d only seen once, on a particularly hot day on the sunny planet they inhabited and he had been stretching after training, muscles flexing with the movement of his arms. 

 She groaned with frustration, pressing her pillow into her face to muffle the sound.  

 An uphill battle, indeed. 

-

 The next day had been the same as any other. Morning meditation, breakfast and then Force training. But Master Luke pleasantly surprised her when he had made mention of learning something new.

 It was midday on Ossus as they sat across from each other, under the shade of a large tree. Stacks of rocks surrounded them, evidence of previous training and meditation sessions. She wore a soft, excited grin on her face, eager to learn. His sandy hair was neat as he spoke to her, saying her name gently. 

“In your studies, have you read about Mind Probing?”

 Her grin faltered. 

 Oh, dear Maker, no.

 She nodded gently, heat threatening to rise to her cheeks as anxiety slowly filled her and she was thankful that she’d gotten better at mentally shielding, hoping that her Master could not feel her nerves through her Force signature. 

 She remembers the exact paragraph that she read on Mind-Probing simply because she had had to put the book down as dread filled her at the realisation that she would need to be taught this at some point. She had no clue it would be so soon. 

 Master Luke’s face remained his usual calm. If he’d noticed her panic in any way, he didn’t show it, nodding in approval and continuing to speak. 

 “Good.” 

 She hated the shiver that ran through her at his praise. 

 “The Force's influence over the minds of other beings can be a valuable tool in the right hands, but it can be easily abused as well.” He began, resting his hands on his knees. “As you will have read; Those on the dark side have been known to use the Force to read the thoughts of other beings and, if necessary, search their minds for information.”

 The young woman nodded, trying to keep her face straight as she anxiously toyed with the fabric of her pants. Master Luke’s face showed pure relaxation as he continued.

”It is important for a Jedi to be capable of protecting themselves against such an intrusion, which is why we are going to be practising shielding against the probe.” He finished, observing her silently for a long moment.

 She averted her gaze, looking down at a piece of fabric she’d been running her nail over, unable to look at him in the eye, for she was scared of just how much he would be able to see in hers. 

 “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question, but merely a statement of truth. One that was impossible to deny, so she didn’t. 

 She nodded, looking back up at him as she did so. She paused her anxious fidgeting to bring her hands into her lap, eyebrows furrowing as she searched for the right words to say. 

 “This process is known for being exceptionally painful for the subject undergoing the probe." He stated before she could bring herself to speak. “Is it the pain you fear?”

 She was silent for a moment, knowing that if she simply lied and said yes, her Master would see right through her even with her mental shields up. Because, well… she was an absolutely terrible liar. 

 Master Luke had caught her out a few times; when she’d tell him that she didn’t stay up too late, or that she’d drank plenty of water that day. He always told her that her face gave her away; like a child that had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

 She let out a small sigh. 

 “Among other things… yes.” She admitted, a blush dusting her cheeks. 

 Master Luke observed her for a moment longer before nodding gently, a look of understanding in his eyes.

 “I understand that it’s invasive.” He began, raising his gloved hand, as if taking an oath. “I can assure you that I will not look further into your mind than what’s necessary.” He promised, earnestly. 

 She flushed, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights as she blinked away her embarrassment. She hated that she seemed to be so easy for him to read. Has she always been like this? Or does Luke's connection to the Force make him exceptionally good at picking up people's emotions? 

 It often made her wonder if he was truly as blind to her attraction for him as he made himself out to be. Surely if he could tell what she was thinking now, he wouldn’t be so blind as to miss her fruitless pining.

 And if that was the case, then maybe whatever he sees in her head today will be of no surprise?

 She breathed deeply, straightening her back and placing her hands back on her knees, as if she was about to start meditating. 

 She nodded, breathing out a quiet ‘okay’ as permission. 

 He mimicked her posture as he spoke. 

 “When I enter your mind, you will be able to feel me. I will have full access to your thoughts and your memories.” He began, watching her face carefully to ensure she understood his words. 

 “It will, in fact, be painful and you may find it hard to concentrate. However, your goal is to find me within your mind and push me out.”

 She let out a nervous breath, rolling her neck and shoulders back to loosen them, taking some time to ground herself and connect with the environment around her. Using the Force to extend her senses and calm her. She nodded, only closing her eyes after witnessing Master Luke close his, seeming satisfied with her consent. 

 She took a brief moment to relax. Focussing on breathing and emptying her mind to bring herself to a light meditative state, hoping to prepare herself for the experience and calm her anxiously beating heart in one fell swoop whilst she waited for the man in front of her to invade her mind. 

 It started as something she could sense. Like a disturbance in the air around her, interrupting the usual waves of energy she was used to. 

 It exudes calm, much like Luke himself, and starts out as feeling quite unimposing. Unthreatening. She thinks to herself that the sensation is odd - unlike anything she has felt before. But the hair on the back of her neck stands as it approaches her. Almost like a tendril, seen with unseeing eyes through her Force signature, skulking through her environment like a serpent looking for prey. She finds herself bristelling at its proximity, goosebumps rising on her skin as she feels its disturbance wade through her energy. Its calm was unwavering, yet the knowledge of its intention made her nervous. 

 She gulped as it paused in front of her, waiting and patient. 

 She tried to brace herself, tried to find a way to preemptively build up a wall in her head to prevent it from entering. Yet still, when it struck, she was unprepared. 

 She whimpered when it hit her, a pain shooting through her skull, like a hundred migraines occurring at once. Her body tensed and her face screwed up in pain, a blur of sensations and imagery and emotion blew through her and her breathing quickened. A strangled cry escaped her lips.

 But suddenly, she could see. 

 Luke was sitting in front of her, under their tree. The picture was hazy, as though a camera was going in and out of focus but he was there all the same; discussing Mind Probing, the wind blowing through his hair as she thought about how beautiful he was. Just as she had just moments ago. 

 She felt another bout of pain, gritting her teeth to prevent from crying out as the imagery changed, to the mediation they’d done earlier that day. Then again, to her breakfast. 

 Images of her most recent days flowed through her, the pain getting worse and worse as the memories sped past, the pressure in her mind expanding as the memories went further back, to when they first started training together. When all she thought about was Luke. Her stolen glances, her silent pining.

 Through the pain, she felt a pang of embarrassment in her chest, panic shooting through her body as she clutched the fabric of her pants. She struggled to get ahold of herself, to capture her own thoughts through the fog of Luke in her head and the pain making its way down her spine. 

 Watching him as he stretched. Gazing him up and down.

 She let out a grunt as she felt him pushing further, her eyelashes growing wet as tears built up in her eyes as she forced herself to breath strangled breaths, searching desperately for a way to push him out. 

 She imagined a wall - a barrier. Similar to the one she used for her usual mental shielding, but it was weak against his effort. He pushed against it. 

 His arms through his tunic. The feeling she got between her legs when she stared at his hands for too long. 

 She let out a strained sob, eyebrows furrowing and teeth gritting as she began pushing, the image growing blurry with her effort. 

 She could feel him resisting, pushing himself against the imaginary wall she’d built, trying to wiggle himself through. 

She found her embarrassment begin to bubble, flipping inside her chest and morphing to anger. Frustration. The fire of the new emotion helped her as she imagined the wall moving forward, back through her thoughts and memories, shoving against the intrusion, slowly forcing him back out. 

 The pain grew easier to handle the further forward she pushed, but her mind and body grew tired. She put everything into pushing him back, back to the beginning where he kept her fighting for another moment, pushing against the barrier she struggled desperately to keep up. 

 She could feel the sweat beading at her forehead as she fought, a shaky breath escaping her as she pushed and pushed and pushed until he eventually, finally, he relented, letting go so suddenly that she hadn't even realised what was happening as a blur of imagery and emotions blew passed her, feeling as though she was falling; hurtling through the Force. 

 For a moment, she thought she may have gotten lost in her own head. Somehow made a mess of herself and had spun out of control in her own mind. 

 But as she slowed, an image grew clearer, not of Luke, but of herself. 

 She sat in the Temple, at the dining table where they ate all their meals, nose buried in one of the historical texts that she could hardly put down, looking awfully concentrated. 

 She lifted a spoon full of soup up, not daring to take her eyes off the book for even a second as she struggled to find her own mouth, completely missing and dipping her chin in the spoon of soup. 

 A rush of amusement ran through her own body as she watched herself, feeling the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as affection bubbled in her chest, heart beating the tiniest bit harder. 

 Confusion swam through her mind, not understanding quite what was going on. So, she pushed forward, the imagery changing, swirling wispily around her as if in a dream. 

 She could see herself again, during their runs through the bamboo forest, hopping on the stones across the creek. 

 She pushed once more, only to see the ceiling of a room she didn’t recognise and was overcome with pleasure, thoughts of herself flooding her mind as her pleasure increased; the ghost of a deep moan emerging from the memory. 

 Without warning, a flash of white surrounded her and she felt as if she was travelling a million miles an hour, hurtling through memories once again as she was shoved out with so much force, she physically toppled back. 

 She took heaving breaths as confusion clouded her, bringing a hand up to her sore head, groaning. She lay on her back for a moment before moving an arm underneath her to lift herself up into a half-seated position, resting her weight on one arm as she used her other hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks, catching her breath. 

 She opened her eyes, the sun was blinding as they focussed on the figure in front of her, taking a second to adjust in her disorientation. The blurriness cleared to reveal Master Luke in front of her, red faced and mouth agape, looking absolutely mortified.

 Understanding flooded her as she finally realised what she had just experienced. Her eyes widened, blinking in awe as she opened her mouth to speak but found herself hesitating.

 She pushed herself up fully, resting her weight on her hand. 

 "D-did I just-" she began but stopped short when Luke stood up. 

 She watched as he lifted himself off the grass, smoothing out his tunic and pants, face now back to its usual blank state but cheeks still fiery red and for the first time ever, he was avoiding eye contact with her. 

 "Master Luke, I'm sorry, I didn't-" She wanted to grovel at his feet after what she'd done, apologise for having invaded his personal space. But he raised his hand, signalling her to stop. 

 He was silent for a second, seeming to need to collect himself before speaking, looking down at his feet as he cleared his throat. 

 "I think that's enough for today. We'll pick back up tomorrow." His voice had a polite tone, but there was a roughness to it that she hadn't heard before, like he was holding back frustration. 

 She wanted to speak again, to apologise. She even opened her mouth to do so, but found any potential words dead in her throat. 

 "You're dismissed." He looked down at the younger woman for a brief second and nodded curtly before beginning to walk back to the temple, his strides longer and faster than she was used to, leaving her under the shade of their tree to process what had just happened. 

 She spent the rest of the day alone, trying her hardest to train independently, despite having been dismissed by Luke, but finding herself so distracted that she decided to just finish training early anyway, heading back to the temple and pottering around, trying to rid herself of the guilt that sat in the pit of her stomach. 

 She knew Luke must’ve been really upset when he didn’t show up for dinner. When the servant droid placed her plate in front of her and hadn’t returned to place one on the other side of the table, she felt her heart sink a little more.

 She sighed, moving her padawan braid behind her shoulder and began eating solemnly. 

 She felt terrible for what she did, invading his privacy like that. Having made him look at her the way that he did, unable to look her in the eye. Like he had been betrayed. 

 But the worst part of it all, what kept eating away at her; she hated to admit it. Hated to be in direct violation of the Jedi Code by being so utterly selfish by finding that the guilt that bubbled in her gut, did not come from the invasion of privacy, but from the knowledge that she had enjoyed what she saw. The image played over and over again in her head, involuntarily, as if it was a malfunctioning hologram, skipping over itself to replay all over. 

 The guilt followed her to bed that night, where instead of smiling up at her ceiling like she often did, her fingers twitched by her sides as she lay awake, filled with the knowledge that he had pleasured himself while thinking of her.

 It took every ounce of self restraint to not do the same - knowing she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye tomorrow if she did. 

 The next morning was bright and warm as she breathed deeply under their tree, body relaxed and mind empty as the rocks around her hovered silently. 

 Luke was usually already under the tree when she arrived, having been meditating for Maker knows how long before she even left the Temple, but when he hadn’t been sitting in his usual place when she walked up the small hill today, she had accepted, with much disappointment, that she would be training on her own for the day. 

 She was, however, pleasantly surprised when she felt a familiar presence enter her senses. Despite her eyes being closed, she could see him, walking toward their tree, looking at her with his usual neutral expression as he adjusted his leather glove on his right hand, no sign of the blush that graced his cheeks yesterday afternoon. 

 Although, she noticed something about him immediately. That something was different. It took her a moment of mulling it over to realise that it was that his presence in the Force seemed… hollow, almost. Like something was missing. 

 She quickly realised that he was guarded. Shielding himself from her. 

 “I was starting to think I’d be training on my own today.” She stated when he’d gotten close. 

 He was silent for a moment and she could see him pause in front of her, looking down at her as he seemed to collect his thoughts. 

 ”I’m sorry for running late.” He said, moving toward his usual place in front of her.

 She could hear the rustling of his clothes as he moved his hands to his sides, looking at her with that unreadable look that she loved and hated. His breathing was relaxed but he had a tenseness in his shoulders that was not usually there. 

 “Don’t apologise,” She began, opening her eyes slowly to look up at him properly. “I’d be upset at me too, after what I did yesterday.” 

 He said nothing as he stared at her, face relaxed except for a soft furrow of his brow. She sighed, lowering the rocks around her gently to the ground and moving her hands into her lap, toying with her fingers. 

 “I… invaded your privacy. I entered your mind without your permission, and I apologise for that.” She said, thankful that she could finally get the apology out in the open, after sitting with the weight of it on her shoulders since the second she’d seen his face yesterday.

 She found it hard to look directly at him, as despite him being a beautiful and kind man, he was intimidating. He was often hard to read, even when he wasn’t shielding himself from her. When unguarded, he usually emitted an aura of calm. Pure neutrality. The same way she felt when she just finished meditating. But his presence was also always intense. Heavy. 

 And now, with his shield up and no way to feel his usual calm demeanor, the only thing she could feel was his intensity. 

 Maybe it was her attraction to him that made him feel so intimidating to her, maybe it was just the way that he was, but she felt herself grow nervous. However, she chose to keep herself open. Allowed him to feel her anxiety, her guilt, her pure sincerity, if he chose to pay attention - and she knew he always did. 

 He breathed in deeply, looking away from her to take a seat across from the younger woman, now eye level with her. She felt a small shift in the air around them, filling her with a gentle wave of emotion. Calm. 

 He’d opened himself up to her, just a little.

 She looked at him again, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. 

 “It was an accident.” He stated, simply. A soft, reassuring smile on his lips. “You pushed too hard and when I left your mind, you followed me into mine. I should’ve prepared myself for it but I didn’t.” He moved, straightening his back and relaxing his shoulders, evidently preparing to join her in meditation. 

 “I accept your apology and I’d like to offer you one of my own. For not informing you of the possibility.”

 She smiled, joining him in adjusting her posture as she nodded. 

 “It’s okay.” She confirmed, closing her eyes once again, grateful to feel the weight of anxiety lifted off her chest. The day moved like every other, training as normal, eating together as always.

 But there was something different between them now. A shift in their dynamic. 

 It was subtle at first - she assumed it was simply the fact that they’d moved past a hitch in their platonic relationship. A teaching moment between Master and Padawan, moving past their personal feelings and focussing on the training at hand.

 However, as the days passed, lingering glances had turned into shy eye contact. Her blushing cheeks at his touch were met with knowing smirks. Their dinners, usually littered with small talk and questions about Jedi training, turned into meaningful conversations. Hells, she’d even made him laugh a few times and boy, was she ecstatic to discover that Luke Skywalker, the most serious and quiet man she knows, Jedi Knight, has the sweetest, most boyish giggle she’s ever heard. She revelled in the sight of his toothy smile, cheeks creasing with the size of his grin. 

 Her heart pounded even just thinking about it as he led her to a new location of the Temple, one that had still been getting built by worker droids when she first arrived to Ossus for training. The room was large and open, with a lifted podium in the centre, where he led her before handing her a wooden pole, the handle surrounded in metal and wrapped in leather, to replicate the weight of a mechanical hilt.

 Her eyes widened.

 ”Saber training?” She said, awestruck as she gazed up at Luke, who looked down at her with the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. He nodded, moving to stand in front of the shorter woman, hands behind his back as he watched her. 

 “I’d like you to position yourself in a fighting stance.” He said simply, face blank once again, calm yet intimidating aura ever present. 

 Despite their recent change of dynamic in their free time, he rarely shifted his focus off of training her properly. 

 There had been a few times where she tried to keep their light conversation from dinner or breakfast going into their lessons, but had each time been met with a telling look or sometimes even a gentle scolding, her name rolling off of his tongue with a disciplinary tone. A reminder to stay focussed. 

 She gripped the hilt of the wooden saber in her hands and shuffled her feet shoulder-width apart, bending her knees slightly, trying to mimic the stance she’d seen in the Holothrillers that Peli and her would watch on Mos Eisley. 

 Once in position, she looked at Luke, waiting for him to provide further guidance. 

 He observed her, gaze slowly trailing down her body as he took in her position, tilting his head as he did so, seeming ponderous. 

 Her stomach fluttered at the sight of his eyes taking her in with his very serious expression, his jaw tightening as he observed her.

 He started to move, his hands staying behind his back as he slowly circled her, his footsteps echoing in the open space, their sound becoming her only knowledge of his location after he exited her vision, reminding her once again of her weakness in the Force when preoccupied and not meditating. Their recent Force training sessions had been consistent with that Maker-forsaken Training Remote. The burns on her legs and feet from its tiny beams are proof enough of her ineptitude with the Force when distracted. They would soon have to make a trip into the city for more Bacta at the rate she’s going through it.

 His sudden appearance directly behind her startles her, jumping when he begins speaking. She swears she can hear the hit of a smirk in his voice, amused by her skittishness. 

“Your instinctual position proves almost perfect.” He begins, “However, we need to make a few small adjustments.” 

 He takes a step closer and the only thing she can sense without the aid of the Force is the sound of his clothes rustling as he moves and the sound of his leather glove stretching with his fingers. Her grip on the hilt of the wooden saber tightens as she anticipates his touch, her senses heightened as her heart began to pound. 

 Her breath hitches when she feels his gloved hand touch the back of her thigh, pushing as he does so. 

 “Bend your knees a little more.” 

 She does as he says, lowering herself with his hand guiding her, revelling in the feeling of his fingers. The smooth leather of his glove makes her yearn for the touch of his skin against hers. She can’t help but think of him gripping her thigh, moving her however he wants. 

 His hand pulling away pulls her out of her thoughts, the ghost of his touch tingling her skin, making her legs feel weak. 

 He then gently places both hands on her shoulders, just soft enough to stabilise her as he brings himself closer, warm chest nearly touching her back as he uses the outside of his boot to push on the inside of her right foot, spreading her legs the tiniest bit more.

 The unexpected action makes face flush and her toes curl in her shoes as she has to consciously focus on keeping her breathing steady. Mind wandering, immediately. 

 ”Keeping your feet further apart helps with agility when in combat.” He stated, factually, his breath on her ear and she has to try not to shiver at the feeling. 

 He removed his hands slowly, trailing down her upper arms before retreating fully as he moved to stand in front of her again, keeping his distance close.

 The young woman took deep breaths, closing her eyes to take a moment to relax before opening them again, her dilated pupils taking him in. His face stayed neutral, exuding relaxation as he watched her and she hoped she didn’t look as desperate as she felt, practically panting with want, too aware of every part of her body that yearned for his touch, from her hands, to her feet, to the apex of her thighs. 

 She grew tired as she kept her shield up, strengthening it as her thoughts wandered, trying to focus on anything other than his eyes or his hands or his stupid unreadable face. 

 She took another deep breath.

 If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. His demeanor remained unchanged as he looked down to her hands gripping the hilt before he raised his own, gloved fingers gripping the saber while the other hand reaches for hers. 

 She let out a shaky breath when his skin touched hers as he repositioned her hands, swapping them around whilst he held her saber for her. 

 She hoped she wasn’t reading too far into it when his hand lingered on her fingers for a moment longer than it should’ve. 

 “Always lead with your dominant hand.” 

 He moved away again, walking with his hands behind his back as he observed just as he did before, eyes roaming her body for signs of imperfection. His head moved as he looked her over, circling her once again, his gaze burning into her skin.

 His demeanor made her feel like a rabbit in a lion's den. And her face flushed at the knowledge that she liked it. 

 The rest of saber training had felt torturous. Not only because of his lingering touches, but because watching her Master wield a saber with ease, his tunic tightening around his muscles, his breathing growing ragged with exertion was like collapsing dehydrated in the middle of the desert and seeing an ice cold water bottle sitting just outside of reach. Like being in a prison cell, the key to the door hanging just outside the bars. 

 Like being infatuated with a man you can’t have. 

 She touched herself in the refresher to the thought of him, after training. 

 After dinner, spending some time in the Temple library, opting for a romance book after the excitement of the day, and doing her final meditation for the night, she retired to bed where she tossed and turned more than she usually would. 

 The events of her day played over in her mind, the ghost of her Masters touch still present on her skin. 

 She came to wonder if her frustration with her inability to be with the man she so desperately and selfishly pined for, indicated a dark desire. A path to the Dark Side. If, deep down, she really was filled with selfishness and hate. 

 She’d never identified with the Dark Side, often finding the lust for power obnoxious and all-too similar to Earth's facism, a political standpoint she’s always detested. But the Dark and the Light side of the Force were not a simple matter of opinion or politics. 

 No, it was almost as though it was destined. Something that the Force predetermined to keep balance within it. So, although she felt no pull to the Dark Side, was her selfish desire for Luke Skywalker a pathway to it? Would this infatuation with her Master create a pull that has already been predetermined?

 The thought had her restless and after chasing sleep for an hour and it eluding her, she decided to just continue reading the new book she had started this evening in hopes of putting her racing thoughts behind her.

 Flipping the blankets off of her body and shuffling to the edge of the bed, she stood to walk to the other side of her quarters, where the book sat on the table next to a small carpet she used for her evening meditations. Luke had placed it in here, insisting she have somewhere other than just their tree to sit and meditate.

 She gripped the book whilst looking down at the cover, an image of a Human man holding a Twi’lek woman by the waist, staring lovingly into her eyes. She sighed down at it almost longingly before moving to make her way back to her bed. 

 Her feet stopped dead on the stone floor when a small, nagging feeling rose up on the back of her neck. It almost felt like a small tingle, like a bug was crawling on her skin or her hair was grazing her neck. She thought she may have imagined it at first, but it quickly grew in intensity. A shiver ran down her spin and her blood ran cold. 

 She stood in the centre of her room, waiting. Feeling. Goosebumps rose on her skin as the shiver expanded across her whole body, her feet had pins and needles. 

 Something was wrong.

 Her eyebrows furrowed, her toes flexed against the stone tiles as an image of a black mask appeared in her mind. A flash of blinding red light.

 A deep feeling of dread filled her, her chest tightening as the feeling overwhelmed her and she brought a hand up to place her palm against it, feeling her heartbeat rattling in her ribcage. 

 It was then that she heard a scream. Not in her head, but within the Temple. 

 Luke. 

 The book fell to her feet and she took off, ripping  her door open and sprinting down the hall, through the common area where they ate together and down the opposite hallway, toward her Masters quarters.

 She had never been here before, had never even thought about coming here, out of respect for the unspoken expectation between Master and Padawan. But as she grew closer, the hairs on her arms stood as the overwhelming sense of danger flooded her senses. 

 She didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think it over for a second before pulling the door open and running so fast into Luke's room that she nearly tumbled over the area rug on the floor. 

 Luke laid seemingly unharmed in his bed, writhing and whimpering. But as she watched him, flashes of red light flooded her head and she blinked as they appeared. 

 “Luke!” She yelled, running to his side, looking down at him under the covers, the word ‘no’ tumbling out of his lips between whimpers and groans. 

 She was confused, brows furrowing as panic filled her. Was he just dreaming? And if he was just dreaming, why was she sensing it? Experiencing it through the Force?

His shoulders convulsed as he let out wailing sobs. His face scrunched as he began crying and her heart clenched at the sight. His beautiful face twisted into agony, as though he was in mourning. 

 She placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, his bare skin wet with sweat, jostling him in an attempt to wake him. 

 “Luke, please!” She cried, anxious to get him out of whatever dream he was having. He continued to writhe, his hair stuck to his damp forehead. 

 She placed a knee on his bed, leaning over him to capture both of his shoulders to shake him.

 ”Luke! Wake up!” She shouted louder this time, being cautious as to not injure him with her grip. 

 He gasped as his eyes shot open, the word ‘no’ still escaping his lips as his body jolted out of sleep, startling even more at the sight of her.

 She let out a small yelp as he shot up, her hands leaving his shoulders and up to her chest, frightened by his sudden movement. 

 ”it’s okay!” She shouted over his whimpers, “Luke, it’s okay! It’s me!” She pleaded.

 Confusion clouded his eyes as his body heaved with ragged breath, bracing one hand on his bed and bringing the other to his chest, flattening it across his sternum as he caught his breath, still whimpering and mumbling, as if still coming out of the throws of his dream.

 “Luke, are you ok?” She brought a hand down to his forearm, grazing his skin gently so as to not frighten him again. 

 He flinched a little at the contact but settled when his eyes caught hers, clearer than they were before and she breathed out a relieved breath, grateful to see the recognition in his face. 

 He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to gain control of his breathing. His face was still twisted in confusion and panic. 

 “I-I can’t-“ He tried to speak but struggled, closing his eyes. 

 She looked around his room quickly, realising she hadn’t taken note of anything when she’d entered and hoped to find something that could help him now. 

 She nearly gasped in happiness when her eyes settled on the glass jug of water on the table across from the bed. 

 “Hang on.” She stated, giving his arm a reassuring tap before hurrying over to the table, picking up one of the upturned glasses on the tray and pouring some fresh water into it. 

 She brought it back over to his bed, grabbing at his hand to guide it to the glass, where he looked up at her with grateful eyes and a furrowed brow. He nodded in thanks as he gripped it with shaky hands, bringing it to his lips to take a sip. 

 She then hurried to the other side of the room, grateful to see that their quarters were practically identical. She rushed over his own meditation mat and pulled aside the thin curtains so she could open a set of balcony doors, allowing the cool night breeze to enter the room, something she often did whilst she was meditating in her own room. 

 She turned to watch him sigh in relief when the breeze hit his wet skin, the messy bed hair on his head moved with it. He removed the glass from his lips, bringing it down to rest in his lap.

 It was only now, after her goosebumps died down and the shiver of imminent danger had left her, that she took notice of his appearance. 

 He was shirtless, the sheet that had initially covered him when she entered pooled on his lap, exposing his chest. He was unexpectedly lean, although she supposed you had to be to be a Jedi; even she had noticed a difference in her body after she began her training almost a standard year ago. The moonlight flooding in from the open door glistened against his moist skin, revealing the contours of his biceps, and as she looked at his arms from her new position in his quarters, she noticed that he wasn’t wearing his signature leather glove and she could now see his broken skin, where something metallic shined in the moonlight from underneath. 

 As she walked closer, she realised that underneath the skin of his right hand was metal and wiring, the skin around it seeming damaged. 

 She had heard the stories, heard that he’d had his hand cut off by his own father, but had never known the legitimacy of them. All the books, Holothrillers and verbal retellings had said different things. Some that he was the hero, others that he was the villain. But they all showed the same depiction of his father. A man in a black mask with a red saber. 

 She sat cautiously on the other side of the bed, watching as he finally caught his breath. 

 “Are you ok?” She asked, quietly. Despite being the only two in the temple that aren’t droids, the darkness of the night made her feel like she had to whisper, like they were sharing a secret they didn’t want others to hear. 

 Luke moved to place the glass of water on his nightstand and she mentally scolded herself as she watched his muscles contort with the movement. 

 “Yes, thank you,’ he began, still capturing his breath as he moved back to look at her. “I apologise if I woke you.” He clasped his hands together in his lap, toying with his fingers as he stared at her with a sheepish expression. 

 He was embarrassed. 

 She shook her head, adjusting her position on his bed so that she was sitting on her knees, facing him entirely. 

 “You didn’t.” She tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear, watching as Luke took in her nightgown and untied tresses. She realised that he had also never seen her like this and probably found it equally as jarring as she did. 

 “I couldn’t sleep. I was about to start reading my new book to see if it would help when I became overwhelmed with a terrible feeling.” She explained, looking down at her lap. ”I had no clue what it was until I heard you yell.”

 Luke suddenly moved, and she looked up at him, seeing a look of surprise on his face as he adjusted his position to face her. 

 “You could sense it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

 She nodded. “Yes. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was like the room just stilled and all I could feel was this overwhelming sense of danger or fear - but it wasn’t my own.” She elaborated, realising that Luke was clearly interested in her experience. She watched as he nodded, silently urging her to continue. 

 “And then I could see… a figure. A man in a mask. But I wasn't really seeing it. It was like a picture had appeared in my head.” 

 Luke nodded, a soft smile adorning his face. 

 “Your connection with the force has grown.” He stated simply, gulping down the last of his ragged breath. He seemed almost proud but there was a distant look in his eye, as if he was still thinking of his dream. 

 She shuffled closer, moving toward him again, capturing her nightgown in her hand to gather it at her knees so she could move without the fabric getting in the way. 

 She lowered her voice again as she asked; 

 ”Were you dreaming of Vader?” 

 His eyes met hers for a brief moment before moving again to stare down at the bedsheets, his face scrunched as he thought, his hair still stuck to his forehead. 

 “N-no. It was someone else.” She could tell he was thinking back, trying to connect any dots he could find. “I didn’t recognise him. But you feeling it through the Force tells me that this was not just a dream.” He lets out a sigh, bringing his robotic hand up to his hair, smoothing it out.The mechanical pieces clicked quietly as they moved with him. 

 “A premonition?” She asked, awestricken at the thought. Luke gravely nodded in return, his hand dropping to his lap once again. 

 ”Do you ever know when it will come true?” She questions further, knees knocking with his as she moves even closer to him without thinking, interest piqued. She’d read of Jedi getting prophetic visions and had found great interest in it, having never experienced one before - until now, she supposed. 

 He looked down at their legs, seeming to think for a moment before responding. 

 “No, it’s hard to know when it will happen. It may never happen.” He began, his eyes on her exposed knees and the fabric of her nightgown pooled between her thighs. 

 She came to a slow realisation of the situation they were currently in. 

 She was in his quarters. In the middle of the night. In his bed. In nothing but a nightgown.

 She suddenly hoped the white light of the moon didn’t reveal the blush on her cheeks as he continued speaking, the air around them seeming to have shifted as he, too, realised their predicament. 

 “The future is always changing. The actions of the present are constantly adjusting the future.” He gazed down at her, his voice thinning as he spoke. 

 There was something different about him as he sat across from her. Maybe it was the fact that he’d just woken from a nightmare or, as she’d just discovered, a premonition, but he was more expressive. His usually neutral face was still relaxed, a great juxtaposition to how he looked earlier, but his eyes communicated more than she was used to. He continued looking at the way her nightgown flowed around her, eyes glittering in the moonlight. His eyes would meet hers every so often, as if to maintain the guise of innocence as his jaw clenched, the action visible in the contrast of the soft light. 

 The room seemed heavier, and she wasn't sure if it was the Force, or her imagination, but there was almost a kind of electricity filling the space between them. The new aura around them made her stomach flutter, reminding her of their time saber training earlier today, a memory that has her mental scolding herself once again, sure that she was to make a fool of herself if she thinks too hard about the way he touched her then and the way his body moved under his tunic. What she would give to see him do it shirtless like this. 

 She swallowed, fingers clenching her nightgown nervously, an action she see’s Lukes eyes catch instantly. Her inner thighs tingle and her heart pounds as she prepares herself to speak.

 “Are the dreams of a Jedi often premonitions?” She asked, voice weak as she moved her eyes down to his body, his biceps twitching with every small movement as he toyed with his fingers in his lap. She watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he gulped.

 His hair was still tousled, shoulders moving in breaths that still aren’t quite even, his eyes shining with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

 “Not always... But they can be.” His response was delayed, distracted almost. His eyes were lidded as they darted across her face. At her eyes, to her lips and across her cheeks that looked so smooth and so pleasant in the night. 

 A cold breeze blew through the open balcony window, making the curtains behind her dance and her nightgown move against her body, brushing against her nipples. Her toes curled as they hardened in response, a quiet breath escaped her, nearly inaudible, but he heard it. Of course he heard it.

 Luke watched as her hair flowed around her shoulders, not used to seeing it out of its usual braid or bun. She could see his eyes trail down the strands of hair within her padawan braid, down to her collarbones, and he licked his lips when his gaze met her chest, breath seeming to falter at the sight. 

 His breathing grew heavy again as she leaned forward without thinking, her body moving practically without her permission. She wasn’t even thinking about what she was doing. Her stomach bubbled with longing and all she knew was that she needed to be close to him. 

 “How do you tell the difference between a dream and something prophetic?” She whispered, pausing so she could look into his eyes, looking at whatever emotion lay beneath them, desperate to know if this was ok, If she was reading this correctly.

 There was something there, something akin to desire. But there was hesitation as well. She could see it in the crease between his eyebrows. It made her hesitate, not wanting to push this further if he didn’t want it.

 “You just feel it.” He responded shakily, swallowing once more as his eyes darted to her lips, his tongue wetting his own without a second thought. When his eyes met hers again, there was an excited cloudiness there.

 She took it as her sign. Her permission to lean in closer, watching him as she did so for any sign of discomfort, but he looked at her lips again and she could’ve sworn he leaned in too. 

 She could feel his hot breath on her face as she neared and she stopped just before their lips met, waiting for him to make the final move. 

 He hesitated. 

“We shouldn’t do this.” He stated simply but didn’t make a move to pull away, his voice a rough whisper. 

 Her nose bumped his as she moved the smallest bit to look him in the eye, lips moving further away just by a centimetre 

 “Do you want me to stop?” She asked. Her question was genuine, but it came out breathlessly. Dreamily. Full of want. 

 He took a moment to respond, gulping nervously, his breathing shaky.

 She was about to pull away, about to apologise for her forwardness when he finally shook his head. 

 “No.” 

 He still didn’t move toward her, like he was nervous to make the first move but when she finally brought her lips to his in a gentle kiss, he responded immediately. His lips closed around hers without question, soft and cautious. 

 Despite her initiating it, he took the lead, repositioning his head to capture her lips with more ease, adjusting his body as he leant in.  

 She lifted a hand to his cheek, sighing against his lips when he leant into her touch, moving his real hand to the side of her neck, cupping the back of her head to pull her in whilst his mechanical hand rested on her thigh in front of him. 

 As the kiss deepened, she lifted herself on to her knees, cautiously crawling into his lap, making sure he had plenty of time to stop her if he felt like he needed to, but he welcomed her gladly. His hand on her thigh slid up to her hip to pull her in, the fabric of her nightgown riding up unintentionally as he did. 

 She settled into his lap, body on fire as her thighs rested around his waist, enjoying the way her bare skin felt against his. 

 The kiss was heated, breathless and desperate, but remained innocent enough until his grip on her tightened and he pulled her closer, chests completely flush. 

 A whine left her throat at the feeling of her bare sex brushing against the unmistakable hardness under his sleep pants. 

 He sighed in response, moving his hand from her neck to her bare thigh, pulling her in closer again, encouraging the movement of her hips. 

 She ground down on him properly for the first time and he whined into her mouth. The sound was deep and desperate and she could feel it vibrate in his chest against her breasts as it came out. 

 She moved a hand to the back of his head, lacing her fingers through his hair as she felt Luke’s tongue ask for entrance against her lips. 

 She moved her hips again when their tongues met, encouraging him to continue. Giving him all the clues he needed to keep going, the reassurance that she was enjoying herself and that she was desperate for more of him. 

 His hand on her thigh trailed up under the fabric of her nightgown and around the curve of her ass, gripping it as he pulled her against him, jutting his hips up to meet the movement. She gripped his shoulder as her folds rubbed against his length, finding herself frustrated at the barrier of his sleep pants between them. 

 He placed his other hand under her nightgown, the fabric gathering on his forearms as he explored her bare skin, bringing his hands up to capture her breast in his palm, giving it an experimental squeeze. 

 She pushed her chest further into his hand whilst she rocked against him, breathing laboured. She sighed when he grunted in appreciation at the weight of her in his palm. 

 His thumb brushed against her nipple lightly and she pulled away from the kiss to let out a shaky moan, taking a moment to look at him. 

 “We really shouldn’t do this.” She stated, looking him in the eyes. But her actions betrayed her words, cupping his cheek and rolling her hips again, eyes closing at the feeling. She knew how he felt about this. About the Jedi Code. And wanted to give him any out he may have needed before they went too far. 

 But he groaned at her excitement, at the feeling of her wetness seeping through his cotton pants, eyes dropping to her neck and collarbone, where he brought a hand up to move her padawan braid over her shoulder with the rest of her hair. 

 “Do you want me to stop?” He mimicked her words from just moments before, his voice raspy and breathless as he brought his lips to her throat, shivering when he heard her gasp and grip the back of his hair at the feeling. 

 “Please don’t.” She moaned, revelling in the feeling of his lips dancing across her skin. 

 He let out a deep chuckle, one she’d never heard from him before, his breath cooling the saliva on her neck, making her whine as he brought his hands down to the hem of her gown and began pulling it up. A wave of excitement ran through her as he removed his lips to lift the fabric over her head, leaving her bare in front of him. 

 His eyes roamed her body, wetting his lips as he looked down at her breasts, discarding the garment wherever it fell and bringing both of his hands to her chest, thumbs grazing over her nipples once more, a restrained breath leaving his mouth as he watched as her face contorted in pleasure. 

 She reached a hand between them, tugging at the band of his cotton sleepwear to communicate what she wanted. 

 She lifted herself up on her knees, giving him space to pull the garment down. 

 Her thighs quivered with excitement as his length was freed from his pants, pink tip wet with precum and standing flush and straight. 

 She helped him rid his legs of the fabric so they were both bare for one another, hearts hammering and chests heaving with strained breath as they gazed at each other, the weight of what they were about to do sinking in. They didn’t move for a moment, looking to the other for their final looks of approval, to make sure this was a decision they wanted to make together. 

 He looked up at her, eyes softening as he brought his hand to her cheek, pulling her in. She captured his lips in a kiss once more, revelling in the spark on her skin where their bare chests connected. 

 She moved over his lap, rolling her hips once again and they both sighed as her wet folds finally ground against the bare underside of his length. His hand grasped her hip, making her skin feel like it was on fire as his fingers tightened on her body, groaning at the sensation of her slick coating his shaft. 

 She did it once, twice more before lifting herself on her knees whilst he moved his real hand between their bodies, positioning himself at her entrance.

 She lowered herself onto him, watching his face as his tip breached her entrance.

She gasped at the feeling and electricity shot through her. His jaw hung open, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders moved with the inflation of his lungs, eyelids fluttering. He let out a strained moan, his grip bruisingly tight.  

 They made eye contact as she settled further, taking her time lowering herself on to his length, savouring the feeling of her stretching around his girth.

 She moaned when she finally bottomed out, gripping his shoulders to ground her as her thighs quivered. His eyes were blown, pupils dilated as he watched her face, closing them only to place a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, his arms wrapping around her waist as she began to move. 

 It was agonisingly slow and drove him crazy, the way she moved on him, lifting her hips and feeling him dragging out of her slowly, only to sink back down again at the same pace. Slowly and gently, savouring the feeling of him inside her, like she was committing him to memory. 

 His grip tightened as he grabbed a hold of her thighs, helping her lift her body, guiding her. 

 The way he grabbed her made her think he was going to take charge, change the pace and slam her body back down to his. But instead, he matched her pace, moaning into her mouth and jutting his hips in time with hers, needy and desperate but still tender and gentle. 

 His head dropped to her shoulder as their bodies moved together, leaving sloppy, delirious kisses on her neck every so often while she gripped his hair, moaning into his neck as his fingers gripped her body. The sound of their panting filled the room as their pace quickened, Luke’s breathing growing laboured. 

 She could tell he was fast approaching his release. Could sense it from the way he grasped at her thighs but also within the air around her, as if the tension in his body filled the room. The coil in his stomach, growing.

 His shield must’ve been down.

 He moved back, eyes locking with hers as he positioned his mechanical hand between their bodies, the faux skin feeling close to lifelike, but lacking the warmth of his body. She could see the determination in his face, like he knew he was going to finish too fast and wanted to make sure she finished first. 

 He laid a hand flat on her stomach, reaching his thumb down until he found her clit. 

 “M-maker.” She gasped, eyes nearly rolling back at the spark his circling thumb sent through her body. If her eyes had been open, she would’ve seen the satisfied smirk he wore when her body stuttered against him, savouring the feeling of her clenching around him. The sounds she was making flowed through him, bringing him closer to his end. 

 The presence of his pleasure flooded her through the Force, swirling in the air as his release grew near, aiding her journey as well. 

  As if he could feel it, maybe he actually could, he put more pressure on her clit and her body shivered as she got closer to her climax, struggling to move against him. 

 He thrust his hips up, using his other hand, still clasped on her waist, to guide her down on to him, taking charge as her body struggled with the extra stimulation. She moaned as his hips bucked into her, his cock filling her beautifully as she throbbed around it, orgasm swirling in her abdomen. 

 He guided her through it, swirling his thumb around her clit until her thighs convulsed around his waist. Her face contorted in ecstasy, moaning as she reached her climax and Luke finally allowed himself to finish, burying his face in her neck as he whimpered with his release, hips sputtering and biceps flexing with the grip he had on her body, cock twitching inside her. 

 Her walls throbbed around him as she came down from her high, falling limp against his body, face resting on his shoulder as she caught her breath, enjoying the remaining waves of pleasure as their bodies relaxed into one another. 

 His hand left her pelvis, moving to engulf her in an exhausted embrace, one hand flat against her back and the other in her hair, thumb rubbing against her jaw. 

 They stayed there for a while, enjoying being in each other's arms until she eventually pulled back, only to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. He reciprocated sweetly, stroking her hair softly and massaging his fingers into her scalp. 

 They pulled apart to rest their foreheads together, eyes closed and simply appreciating each other's presence, their heavy breathing slowing as they relaxed. 

 After a while of comfortable silence, a thought struck her and the young woman smiled, letting out a soft chuckle, hand moving to cover her mouth as she opened her eyes. 

 Luke pulled back to look her in the eye, a smile toying at his lips. 

 “What?” He asked with a soft voice. 

She giggled, covering her face shyly as she shook her head, hair flowing around her shoulders. “It’s nothing-“ she chuckled again, eyes closing as her shoulders shook with soft laughter. 

 A toothy grin broke out on his face, his cheeks creasing as he let out his own laugh. 

 “Well now you have to tell me.” He teased, lifting a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear affectionately. 

 She smiled at him, hesitating for a moment but so caught up in the intimacy of the moment and the laughter between them that she said it anyway. 

 “I was just thinking…” she trailed off, looking away as she held back another laugh.  “That for a man sworn to celibacy, you sure seem to know what you’re doing.” She hid her face as it came out of her mouth, cheeks flushing as she giggled. 

 Luke’s eyes widened, a surprised look on his face at the forwardness of her statement and for a moment she was nervous she’d said too much. But she relaxed when he scrunched his nose as a shy smile broke out on his face.

 “Oh my-“ he cut himself off with a laugh, bringing a hand up to his face in embarrassment. 

 She laughed even harder at his reaction, thankful that he’d found himself amused by her joke, bringing a hand to rest on his bicep.

 He removed his hand from his face and looked up at her again, a wide smile still playing on his lips. 

 “I haven’t always been a Jedi, you know.” He offered as an explanation, dropping his hand to play with the ends of her hair. 

 She smirked, deciding to keep going with her teasing. 

 “So Tattooines resident farm boy, Luke Skywalker, got around that much, huh?” She poked his cheek playfully when she said it, smiling when he rolled his eyes in jest. 

 “Not that much.” He shook his head, swatting her hand away gently. “But I did have a friend, Biggs, who loved to talk about all of his experiences.” He exaggerated his words when describing his friend, a boyish giggle left his throat at the memory, his face plastered with his grin. 

 She smiled affectionately at him as she toyed with his robotic hand that he hadn’t removed from hers, feeling the replicated skin and the mechanics underneath it, watching as the gears moved with every twitch of his fingers. 

 When his laugh died down, he continued; 

 “And you know that we aren’t sworn to celibacy.” He teased, still toying with the ends of her hair with his other hand, trailing his fingertips across the bead that secured the braid behind her ear, the hair within it longer than the rest on her head. 

 “We can technically make love, we just can’t be in love.” He finished, a smirk still playing on his lips but she could hear the way he trailed off, watched as the smile slowly left his face and a sudden sadness filled his eyes. 

 She smiled softly at him, trying to keep the conversation light. 

 “Sounds like a loophole to me.” She joked, lacing her fingers with his. He looked down at them, rubbing a mechanical thumb across the back of her hand, the whirring of the gears within it breaking the silence in the room. 

 She doesn’t know why she says it, why it was on her mind or why she thought it was a good idea to verbalise it, but without thinking, she whispers;

 ”Those things kind of go hand in hand for me.”

 The weight of her words filled the room and she felt mortified the second she said it, in awe of the implied admission in the sentence, but unable to deny it. 

 His eyes met hers, realisation settling in them as his face fully dropped to one of sadness. Something akin to regret washed over him as he took a moment to respond, mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say, shaking his head. 

 The way he said her name reminded her of the times he’d scold her for being distracted, but instead of authority behind his tone, it was disappointment. Heartbreak. 

 He brought his other hand on top of their clasped fingers. 

 “This was-“ he stops short, struggling to find the words.

 He shook his head, running a thumb over her hand as he tries to collect his thoughts.

 “We shouldn’t have…” He can’t bring himself to say any more, but he doesn’t have to. 

 “I know.” She states, simply. A sad smile ghosts her face as she looks at him, bringing her free hand up to his, cupping his cheek. “I know, Luke.” 

 Despite his words. Despite what he knows he should be doing; He leans into her touch. Furrowing his eyebrows, gloomy eyes looking into hers as he watched them begin to tear up. His chest tightened at the sight of her eyes welling, gripping her hand tighter.

 “C-can we just…” She began, swallowing the lump in her throat in an attempt not to cry. “Can we pretend that it’s ok? Just for tonight?” She asked, pushing his hair back to get a better view of his face, committing the view of his desperate eyes in the white light of the moon to memory. 

 His stare darted between her eyes, seeming torn. He was silent for a while, jaw clenching as his mind raced. But eventually, he sighed, rubbing his real hand over her forearm, almost reassuringly as he nodded, a sad smile on his face. 

 She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, leaning down to peck his lips once more and he held her there, savouring the feeling of her lips on his.

 She adjusted herself in his lap, his cock still half-hard inside her and he let out a small, overstimulated grunt, pulling away for a second to look her in the eyes, bringing his hand up to wipe the tear that began to roll down her cheek. 

 “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He promised, cradling her face. 

 She nodded with a sad smile, leaning in to kiss him again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

 The night passed slowly as swapped stories, sharing laughs together in each other's embrace, tangled in the bed sheets as the sound of the curtains shuffling in the breeze filled the room amongst their whispers. 

 He told her of his time growing up on Tatooine. Of his best friend, Biggs and his aunt Beru and Uncle Owen and all the trouble he’d get in for getting up to mischief in town. He explained how he and Biggs used to race landspeeders and fly small ships whenever they could, often crashing or ending up somewhere they shouldn’t have just because they egged each other on and brought out the worst in each other in the most beautifully chaotic way. He said that doing these silly things had made him realise that he wanted to be a pilot, and had even applied for the Imperial academy, simply because he knew they would train him to fly better than he knew he already could.

 He made her giggle at the mention of his childhood memories of Peli, who he hadn’t really known as anything but the mean lady at the Spaceport that wouldn’t let the aspiring-pilots in to look at any of the ships in her hangars, even when the young boys begged. 

 She shook her head in amusement, unsurprised by his observation of the older woman. A smile graced her lips as she did, only dimming slightly after an oddly homesick feeling struck her, realising that she hadn’t seen her old boss, someone that she considered a friend, in quite a long time. 

 Luke, whether through the Force or solely from her facial expression, had noticed the shift in her, asking her sweetly to tell him of her past. 

 He’d known the surface-level things. That she was from a primitive planet in a far away galaxy and became stranded on Tatooine, ignorant to many of the workings of her new home. But he listened intently as she explained how Peli, despite being an abrasive and rude woman on the surface, had selflessly taken the young woman in after seeing the lost look on her face when the ship that she’d landed in not an hour earlier, had taken off without her on it. 

 She explained how she felt quite neanderthalic, having little to no knowledge of most of the technology she came across or how the currency system worked. 

 Peli had helped her through it all in the months they lived together by explaining the politics to her, reciting the history she knew of and even teaching her to read and write in other common languages in the afternoons, after dinner and before she retired to her uncomfortable cot in the back of the Tool Shop, where she slept amongst the droids.

 Their chatting lasted hours, even after their eyes began to get heavy and they started yawning, unwilling to let the night end. There was a part of her that wondered if he, too, was trying to enjoy it while it lasted, for they knew they had to face reality tomorrow.

 She tried not to think of the sunrise and the knowledge of the inevitable serious discussion they would have to have when the time came. 

 Finding comfort, for now, in the safety of the moonlight as they revelled in feeling as though they had no responsibility, wrapped up in the discussion of their interests and passions outside of training. 

 They stopped only to share sweet kisses or even to once again become a mess of tangled limbs as he eased them both slowly back into the throws of… what did he call it?

 Making love. 

 Hands gripping at each other's bodies, moans swallowed by each other's mouths, too absorbed with each other to even think about the world around them as she grabbed at his body for purchase, tugging at his hair without thinking. 

 She nearly felt bad for it, even through her sex-drunk daze, having not intended to grab him so harshly, but she was pleasantly surprised when she felt his hips sputter, moaning into her neck as he came again. 

 She found herself pocketing that knowledge in the back of her mind for later.

 He collapsed on top of her, being cautious to rest his weight on his arms, as to not crush her under him.

 She kept her hand in his hair, loosening her grip to gently massage his scalp lazily, arms as weak as the rest of her body as her chest heaved and her legs twitched. 

 His eyes closed at the feeling of her hand in his hair, revelling in the comfort he found within it and finding himself unwilling for it to stop. 

 He withdrew from her, both of them wincing with sensitivity and letting out small grunts at the feeling. But instead of rolling to her side or moving off of her, he chose to move down to rest his head against her chest, spreading his body across the mattress and bringing his hands to her sides, holding her dearly as he listened to her erratic heartbeat.

 She moved her other arm across his back, embracing him as she tried to calm her breathing and they stayed like that for a while, basking in their post-sex haze as her fingers trailed over his back and through his hair. 

 She found herself not thinking of the Jedi Code, or of their agreement to speak of the consequences of their own actions tomorrow, but of her happiness. Of the way her stomach fluttered when his fingers twitched against her side or the way her whole body felt tingly with excitement. 

 He sighed contentedly when she placed a gentle kiss to his head, moving to look up at her and she swears she feels his heart hammer against her stomach when they make eye contact. 

 She brushes his hair off of his forehead, smiling down at him and shaking her head. 

 “Your hair is a mess.” She teased, bringing both hands up to rake her fingers through his hair, smoothing it down from its previous nest-looking mop. 

 He laughed a genuine, hearty laugh as he brought his hand up to his head, helping her fix his hair as a small blush dusted his face. 

 “You really know how to keep the mood going, don’t you?” He jested, smirking down at her teasingly. 

 Her smile grew, laughing lightly as she came to the conclusion that she really liked this side of Luke Skywalker. 

 Relaxed, smiley and even a little goofy. Willing to joke around with her and reciprocating her light-hearted teasing. 

 His usual seriousness was endearing, one of the things that she’d actually always found attractive about him. But now, watching his eyes crinkle and his smile grow as he shook his head down at her, a gentle chuckle rumbling in his chest; she decided that, yes. She could get used to this. 

 Their bodies were sweaty and sticking together, hair tousled and messy as they lay gazing at each other with stupid, love-sick grins. It was then that a new thought struck her. 

 She moved her head, twisting her face into a look of pondering, as if in thought. To sell her performance even more, she brought a finger up to tap on her chin as she hummed, feigning indecision. 

 After a moment, she widened her eyes, as if to say ‘ah, i know!’

 “I think I know how to keep the mood going.” She teased, excited to keep their silly conversations going, desperate to see more of his goofy grin that she found herself enamoured by.  

 He played along, tilting his head in mock interest as he spoke.

 “Oh yeah?” He offered, smirking at the little joke she was playing. 

 She nodded, a mischief-ridden smile stretching across her face as she looked down at him, loving the way his eyes sparkled with excitement. She raised her eyebrows suggestively as she spoke; 

 “Wanna join me in the refresher?”

[dazaih]

sweet - luke skywalker x reader

luke skywalker is living on tatooine as he prepares to rescue han solo from jabba’s palace. you’re one of many bounty hunters sent to capture him. your mission complicates, however, when the lonely jedi is far too enthusiastic about your company.

bounty hunter! gender neutral reader x pre-rotj! luke

chapter warnings: light drinking, canon-typical violence

a/n: this is just an au where luke is supposed to be keeping a low profile as he hides out on tatooine after esb but he misses his friends and is way too social with strangers as a result. that is all

Luke Skywalker wasn’t easy to find. You weren’t sure if he was evading capture with his Jedi powers, if the Rebels were keeping him well hidden, or both, but your search had spanned two months now and your patience was growing incredibly thin.

You’d heard that the kid had blown up the Death Star, but you weren’t sure why Vader’s orders were to take him alive, or why so much effort was being spent on finding a single pilot. You didn’t normally take large bounties like this, as it was just so much more of a hassle, but under the collapsing economy of the Empire, you were running out of options. This pilot was going to singlehandedly put food on your table. You had a job to do, and more competition than you could handle, but what other option was there?

In your building frustration, you had started getting a bit sloppy. Your ship’s fuel tank being nearly on empty was a clear indictor of that. So, with no other option, you had to stop for fuel on the worst possible planet: Tatooine.

On top of that, you would have to dock at Mos Eisley. Your luck was growing worse by the minute.

Begrudgingly, you landed your ship, haggled with the station crew, and still paid more to fuel up than you should have. By the end of the interaction, you were about to blow a fuse, your anger reaching its limit. You hadn’t been this pissed in a long time, your growling stomach not doing much to ease your stress. So, with very little credits and a sour attitude, you made the trek over to the cantina.

What a shithole, you thought as you walked inside. The cantina wasn’t incredibly crowded tonight, but it was still relatively lively. The band was playing something a bit more relaxing, and you could see the setting suns from the seat you had taken at the bar. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

The bartender appeared in front of you, staring at you expectantly as your eyes roamed his selection. He didn’t bother with a greeting, but that was fine. You didn’t need one.

“Just beer is fine,” you mumbled, watching as he pulled one out and popped the cap off, “Thanks.”

“You wanna start a tab?” he asked, tired eyes boring into you.

“Yeah, why not.”

You supposed you’d dock at Tatooine for the night. It wasn’t like your bounty would be on this dead end planet anyway. If anything, he was more likely to be tucked away in a secret base, not allowed to leave in fear of being attacked. His status as a wanted man was quite well known, and there’s no way the Rebels would risk letting such a talented pilot slip out of their hands.

“You got anything to eat around here?” you asked, feeling your stomach growl once more.

The bartender must’ve heard it too, because he looked at you with a deeper grimace.

“I can make you a sandwich out of Haroun bread and Worrt meat,” he offered.

Gross, but you’d take what you could get.

“That’s fine, thanks,” you murmured.

He was nice enough to make the sandwich warm for you, and he did his best to make it look appetizing, even adding a little seasoning. You weren’t used to experiencing the kindness of strangers, so you weren’t quite sure how to respond, but you hoped that your gratitude was clear to him.

You studied the patrons as you ate, finally taking in your surroundings in full. A few men were playing some sort of card game you’d never seen before in the far corner, a prostitute sat talking to a potential client in a table to your right, and a few people were sitting close to the band. Prostitutes, gamblers, drunkards—this was all what you’d expected out of a Mos Eisley cantina.

“Ah, so you’ve made it another day.”

You momentarily thought that the bartender was speaking to you, but that hardly made sense. You looked up to see a new customer had entered, sliding into a barstool on your left, leaving an empty seat between you. You couldn’t see the person’s face, as the hood of their cloak concealed their features. From where you sat, you could only make out the outline of their side profile, the dim lighting and setting suns not doing you any favors.

“Seems like it,” the person replied.

The voice was much softer than what you’d expected out of a mysterious cloaked figure on Tatooine, but that was hardly as surprising as their drink order.

“Blue milk?” the bartender asked.

“Please.”

“Not dark blue?”

“I won’t be drinking tonight.”

Who comes to a bar and orders milk? you wanted to ask, but you bit your tongue for now. You still didn’t know whose identity that fabric was concealing, but judging by how friendly they appeared to be with a bartender in Mos Eisley, you were certain they were trouble.

“Suit yourself, kid. Anything else I can get ya?”

The figure seemed to contemplate this for a moment, gloved fingers drumming against the countertop thoughtfully.

“Got anything to eat?”

“That one right there is eating a Worrt sandwich,” he said, pointing at you, “That’s all we really have tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s dreadful,” they said quietly, not bothering to look at your plate, “I don’t need anything nutritious.”

“You’re asking if I have dustcrepes.”

“Sorry,” the voice was sheepish now, and you were willing to bet that the person under the hood was blushing, “Haven’t had anything sweet to eat in a while. I was just curious.”

“They’re not actually sweet, kid.”

“Nothing sweet ever came from Tatooine.”

The bartender laughed before disappearing for a moment, bringing back a plate with a singular dustcrepe on it. You were surprised to find that it didn’t look that bad.

“I hope this isn’t your only one,” the figure said softly, not yet sticking their fork into the treat, “I don’t want to take it from someone else—“

“Just eat the damn thing, kid. You’ve done enough for me. Least I can do is let you have the last dustcrepe.”

Hesitantly, the gloved hand cut a small piece of the crepe off, and you watched as the person’s shoulders relaxed when they finally took a bite. You had finished your sandwich now, but it wasn’t enough after several days of eating dried fruit and nuts, so you really couldn’t be blamed when another growl sounded from it.

The bartender turned to you, but the figure did not, now just sitting perfectly still.

“I know Worrt meat ain’t much. I’m sorry,” he apologized, wiping some sweat from his brow with a towel.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, embarrassed by your appetite, “I just haven’t been eating a lot lately. It’s my own fault. Thanks for the sandwich.”

You jumped in your seat when you saw the gloved hand extending in your direction, but the reflex to grab your blaster was tamed when you saw that half of the stranger’s dessert was being presented to you.

“What?” you asked, bewildered.

“Take half,” they insisted, nudging the food in your direction, only tilting their head slightly. You could make out their nose and a small part of their lips, but the dark shadows the hood was casting still made discerning any details difficult.

“No,” you replied, still confused, “I just ate. You haven’t eaten yet.”

“You’re hungry,” they said simply.

“It’s yours. You bought it.”

“Have you ever had a dustcrepe?”

“What? No?”

“Then at least try it.”

“He’s not gonna give up,” the bartender interrupted, a small smile on his lips, “He’d give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. Just the type of guy he is.”

“Don’t ask me to take off my clothes,” the stranger mumbled, and you nearly laughed in spite of yourself, “But he’s right. I’ve decided that you’re going to share this with me, and it seems like you want to, so take it.”

Reluctantly, you took the crepe from his hand, your fingers brushing his as you did so. You felt no heat from his palm, and you made a mental note that he must have had some type of prosthetic. Interesting, but not nearly as important as the treat you had just bitten into, which was probably the best thing you’d tasted in a long time.

“Good, right?”

“It is,” you admitted, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s one of my favorites, and I think everyone—“

He was cut off by someone tapping his shoulder, and he reflexively spun around in his seat to see who was trying to get his attention, consequently turning his back to you.

“I haven’t seen eyes like that around here in forever,” the culprit—one of the prostitutes you’d seen earlier, you realized—said, and you were suddenly envious that this woman had seen the kind stranger’s face and you had not.

“Oh,” the man said, seemingly dumbfounded, “But I was here yesterday?”

“It’s a shame you’re hiding such a handsome face,” she continued, ignoring his comment and taking a seat in his lap, “It’s a crime, really.”

“Thanks?” he all but squeaked, his hands flying up in an attempt to put some space between the two of them.

“Leave him alone, Pella,” the bartender huffed, sounding tired.

She sighed and climbed off of him, instead standing behind him and spinning him around to face the counter again.

“But just look,” she said, one hand on his shoulder and the other on top of his hood, “At those eyes.”

Before he realized what she was doing, she yanked down his hood, exposing his face to the entirety of Mos Eisley. The bartender rolled his eyes and no one else seemed to be particularly interested in the interaction, but you were floored.

Yes, he was beautiful. He had wispy blond locks that curled around his ears and a jaw that was strong but cheeks that were soft. You weren’t facing him directly, and yet you could still understand what she had meant about his eyes. They were a light blue, like the crystal waters of a much kinder planet than Tatooine, and shone even in the dim lighting of the cantina. His looks, however, were only a secondary thought to you at the moment, because there, in a tiny bar in the Outer Rim, sat Luke Skywalker.

“Son of a bitch.”

His eyes flickered to you in an instant, and he seemed to realize that your hand was hovering above your holster before you did.

“Don’t try it,” he pleaded, looking back up at you, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You weighed your options for a moment, and ultimately decided on unsheathing your blaster anyway, lunging out and grabbing the woman, pressing the barrel of your weapon to her temple. She screamed and kicked your shin, which hurt quite a bit, but you weren’t about to let anything stand in the way of you and this bounty.

“Hey!” the bartender shouted, coming out from behind the counter to confront you, “I make you a sandwich and you start pointing blasters at women in my bar? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“My business is with him,” you replied coldly, staring at Luke, “Drop any weapons you have.”

He was standing now, and with a sigh, he unclipped a blaster from his utility belt. You eyed him skeptically, but he just shook his head.

“Lost the saber when I lost the hand,” he told you, wiggling his gloved fingers at you in a way that almost felt sarcastic, “What now?”

His attitude wasn’t as annoying to you as it should’ve been, but you still glared. Keeping your blaster pointed at the woman, you quickly reached into your pocket, tossing a pair of handcuffs at the bartender.

“Cuff him. And if they don’t look tight enough, I’ll shoot her. Understand?”

When the bartender hesitated, you shoved your blaster harder into her temple, making her cry out in pain.

“I’ll be fine,” Luke told him, giving him a soft smile, “You don’t need to worry.”

The bartender still frowned, but he reluctantly reached forward, grabbing the cuffs.

“Behind his back,” you ordered.

Luke rolled his eyes and turned around, offering his hands to the bartender. He didn’t react as the cuffs were fitted tightly around his wrists, but you could see that they had to be painful.

“Okay,” you breathed out, shoving the woman forward and taking hold of Luke instead, “We’ll be out of your hair now. Apologies to the lady, and thanks for the food.”

“I’ll be fine,” Luke called out over his shoulder, apparently unbothered by your blaster pressing into his side as you guided him to the door, “Thank you for the crepe!”

When you exited the cantina, you roughly shoved him forward, now keeping your blaster level with his back.

“Walk that way,” you demanded, pushing him towards the direction of your ship.

“You shouldn’t have scared that woman like that,” he said quietly, though he obeyed your orders and began walking.

“She’ll be fine. She’s alive, isn’t she?” you countered.

“You didn’t have to threaten her.”

“She’s a prostitute at Mos Eisley. I’m sure she’s seen scarier people than me.”

“So? She’s still a person. And she has nothing to do with this.”

“Are you scolding me?” you finally asked in disbelief.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking ahead as he continued to walk, “I’m not trying to scold you. I just meant that other people didn’t need to get involved.”

In the span of thirty minutes, Luke Skywalker—the pilot who blew up the Death Star and wielded a lightsaber—had shared his crepe with you, scolded you for scaring a woman while trying to take him as a hostage, and then apologized for it. You briefly wondered if you had passed out from exhaustion and were having some sort of lucid dream.

“Why are you on Tatooine?”

“I’m from here. Why are you?” he countered, though it was without venom.

“Why are you here now? And because I almost ran out of fuel looking for you. I had no idea you’d be drinking blue milk in Mos Eisley, of all places. What’s up with that?”

He shrugged, silently continuing his trek. You walked a little faster and shoved your blaster into his spine as hard as you could, making him falter slightly.

“What?” he snapped, turning to look at you.

You tried not to lose your breath at the sight of his golden hair gleaming in the sunset, the sky’s soft orange hues making his blue eyes seem even more striking. You failed, exhaling deeply as you stared at him, bewildered by his beauty.

“What?” he asked again, this time with furrowed brows and genuine confusion.

“Nothing,” you grumbled, “Answer my questions.”

“None of it really matters,” he replied, turning and walking again, “Just stuff that doesn’t really concern you or your mission, I guess.”

“You don’t even know what my mission is. Why are you on Tatooine?”

He was silent for a moment, but eventually decided to humor you.

“You were expecting me to have another weapon. Was the lightsaber mentioned in my profile when you took the commission?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “It stands out. Not many people have those these days.”

“I suppose not,” he hummed, “Well, like I said, it’s gone. And I need another one. So here I am.”

“That doesn’t explain anything. Why are you here?”

“Looking through a dead guy’s stuff for some information on building a lightsaber myself. Among other things.”

“Among other things,” you mocked, rolling your eyes, “Why do you need a lightsaber anyway? Nothing beats a long range blaster.”

“You sound like my friend,” he said, chuckling quietly, “I’m a Jedi, so I need a lightsaber.”

“You’re not a Jedi,” you scoffed, not believing him for a second, “They’re extinct, but even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t be one. You haven’t even tried to fight me once. You’re weak.”

“I don’t need to fight you,” he said simply, “Because you won’t hand me over.”

The statement surprised you, and you felt the dam holding back the pent up frustration from the day snap. You finally made it to your ship, and you roughly shoved him inside, dragging him to the front of the small vessel and pushing him down into the co-captain’s chair. You loomed above him, pointing your blaster at the center of his forehead now, glaring at him.

“I will,” you seethed, your other hand falling to his shoulder to keep him in place, “I wish I could just kill you now and save myself the trouble of having to hear your voice all the way to the rendezvous point.”

“Where’s the rendezvous point?” he asked, cocking his head at you as if you weren’t holding a loaded weapon to it.

“I’m not—What the fuck is wrong with you? You should at least humor me a little and act like your life is in danger. This is bad for my self esteem.”

He laughed at that, showing off his stupidly perfect white teeth.

“My life’s not in danger,” he said, bringing his hands out from behind his back and holding them up to show you that his handcuffs were gone, “See? I’m all good.”

You stared at him in disbelief for a second, his freed hands mocking you and all you’d worked for.

“I’m gonna kill that bartender,” you announced calmly, turning to exit your ship again. You pushed the button to open the cockpit’s door, but it only parted halfway before slamming shut again. Puzzled, you smashed the button again, much harder this time, only for the exact same thing to happen. Finally, you turned to Luke, whose hand was outstretched, open palm facing you and the door.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, letting it fall back to his side, “But I can’t let you kill the bartender. He’s a nice guy. Also, he was true to his promise. He really had those cuffs on tight.”

“What did you just do?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“The Force,” he explained, still seated, “I’m a Jedi. I told you that. You should tell the Guild to update their records.”

You circled him slowly, now even more suspicious of him than before, and you raised your blaster again.

“I think Vader would understand if I killed you now. You’re freaking me out a little.”

“You’re funny,” he said sincerely, waving his hand again and sending your blaster flying across the room, “You seem to have a pretty good sense of humor. We could’ve had a nice conversation at the bar instead of doing all of this.”

You stared at your weapon in the corner, once again at a loss for what to do. You were a pretty talented bounty hunter, and you were confident that you could put up a decent fight against Luke, but you had no experience fighting Jedi.

“I’ve had a really long day,” you confessed, eyes darting between Luke and your blaster, “I’m pretty emotionally exhausted. I’m too tired to even be that pissed at you right now, and I really wish I wasn’t, because I really want to beat the hell out of you for giving me such a hard time, but unfortunately, I’m broke, and this job was supposed to be my ticket to financial security, so if you could just stop fucking things up and—“

“And what? Go and die quietly?” he interjected, quirking an eyebrow at you, “I’ve got things to do too, y’know. Can’t get myself killed just yet.”

“He wants you alive.”

“And then when I won’t do what he wants, he’ll kill me. I don’t have time for that right now.”

“Darth Vader put a bounty out on you and you’re worried about it getting in the way of your work schedule?”

“It’s important work,” he offered, shrugging again.

“Funny,” you huffed, feeling quite defeated, “Well, fuck me I guess. Why didn’t you take the handcuffs off sooner? Actually, why did you even come with me in the first place?”

“I haven’t spoken to someone my own age in two months. And you seemed nice.”

You had never been called nice a single time in your life. You were stunned, swallowing hard for a moment before speaking again.

“Well, sorry to have disappointed you.”

“You didn’t disappoint me. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I never get to talk to anyone these days. Being stuck here for two months has been draining, and—“

“You’ve been here for two months?” you asked, backtracking slightly.

“Yeah, around that long. Why?”

You had gone to eight different planets looking for this guy, and the entire time, he had been here, drinking blue milk and making friends with bartenders.

“Ah,” he said then, as if he understood your frustration, “Sorry to have caused you so much trouble. I’m sure it’s not nearly as much as whatever my bounty is, but since I can’t let you take me in, I can at least give you some of the credits I have—“

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you offering to compensate me when I just kidnapped you?”

“You didn’t kidnap me,” he corrected you, “I came willingly. And it’s fine. You were never going to actually turn me in anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Why do you keep saying that? I fully intended on bringing you in before you started moving shit around with your mind.”

“I can just tell,” he said simply, shrugging again.

You sighed, collapsing into the pilot’s chair and crossing your legs.

“Well, since I can’t shoot and kill you, and now I also can’t kidnap you, I guess you’re free to go.”

Just as the words left your mouth, your ship made a horrible creaking noise, causing you to shoot up out of your chair. To your surprise, Luke followed suit, gently placing a comforting hand on your arm. You wanted to slap him away, but you found yourself liking the light touch more than you anticipated, your cheeks flushing. He really was beautiful, but he was still supposed to be your bounty.

“It’s just the wind,” he reassured you, offering you a small smile, “But I wouldn’t go out in that right now. It could mean that a storm is approaching.”

“A storm? It doesn’t rain here, does it?”

“Not that kind of storm,” he replied, “A dust storm. It could be nothing, but when the wind picks up like that at night—“

He was interrupted by another strong gust rocking the ship forward, and he winced. He leaned forward to look through your windshield, and sure enough, considerable amounts of sand had started blowing through the air, and the suns had now nearly fully set. Even if you wanted to get Luke off of Tatooine, there was no way you could travel in this.

“If you want me to leave, I should probably do that now,” he said awkwardly, staring through your windshield.

“Is letting you out gonna blow a ton of sand into my ship?” you asked tiredly.

“Um, probably. Sorry.”

“How long will this last?”

“I’m not sure. Could be an hour, could be more. They usually get worse at night and settle by morning.”

“I just want one stroke of good luck,” you groaned, running your hand through your hair, “Whatever. Just stay until it’s over.”

He gave you a curious look at that, which would’ve been cute on anyone else; however, seeing as he had just extinguished your dream of financial stability, you were still a bit resentful.

“Okay,” he replied, smiling a little, “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“I’m not doing it for you. My ship is already falling apart, and exposing the inside to a dust storm is just gonna be another nail in the coffin.”

“If you say so,” he hummed, sitting back down, “So, you’re a bounty hunter?”

“We don’t need to make small talk.”

“Yes, we do. It’ll be awkward if we don’t. And I’m genuinely interested. Like I said, I haven’t seen someone my own age in two months. You can humor me a little.”

You sighed, long and drawn out to make your misery clear to him.

“Fine,” you hissed, “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not really. You’re pretty laidback for a bounty hunter.”

“And now you’re insulting me. You’re the gift that keeps on giving, huh?”

He had the audacity to giggle at that, and you could’ve sworn that your heart stopped beating for a moment. There was no way that this was the same person who blew up the Death Star. There had to be some sort of mistake.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. Just that you’re not wound so tight that you start killing everyone in your path. Most bounty hunters are like that, in my experience at least. Not to generalize or anything.”

“You have a lot of experience with bounty hunters?”

“Well, yeah. I’m a bounty, after all.”

“Right,” you huffed, crossing your arms and relaxing a little, “And what? Others have found you before?”

“You’re the sixth this month.”

You sputtered for a moment, unable to conceal your surprise. You’d known that you probably weren’t the first person to run into Luke, but five others? This month?

“You’re full of shit,” you argued, narrowing your eyes at him, “Those are hunters from the Guild. You would have been captured by now. I don’t believe you.”

“Sorry?” he replied, looking a little uncomfortable, “You don’t have to believe me, but I don’t really have any reason to lie to you.”

“Yes, you do,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your ship made another horrible noise then, and your stomach churned when another gust of wind forced itself against your only mode of transport.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, standing and walking towards the entrance to your ship, “But if you’re really worried about sand, we should stuff some fabric in these cracks. You should really have this resealed, actually. Do you not get cold from the air seeping in?”

“What, you’re making renovations now?” you scoffed, standing and following him as he walked down the corridor, “Hey! Where are you going?”

“To get fabric,” he called back, and he was gone.

You jogged to catch up with him, only to be floored when you saw him wave the door to your quarters open with his hand. That should’ve been impossible, but you supposed he was full of surprises.

“You can’t just barge into my room,” you snapped, putting an arm in front of him and slamming the button to shut the door.

“Don’t complain when your loading ramp is covered in sand tomorrow morning.”

You stared at him for a second before begrudgingly relenting, slamming the button once more. He smiled at you as he stepped into your quarters. You were hoping that he wouldn’t try to read you by studying your room, but your hopes were shattered when he made his way to a small desk in the corner.

“Is this an N-1 Starfighter?” he asked, staring at a model ship you had sitting on the desk, “I used to collect model ships. I never had this one though.”

“Yes,” you snapped, stepping between him and the desk, “I killed a guy for that. Don’t touch it.”

“Can I touch it?”

“I just said—“

“I won’t break it. I swear. I can be delicate.”

“Fine,” you hissed, reluctantly placing the model in his hands, “But if you break it, you have to let me take you to Vader.”

“Sounds fair,” he agreed, even though trading his life and freedom for the chance to hold an N-1 model hardly seemed fair to you at all.

You tried not to look at him at all as he admired the ship in his hands. You tried not to notice how his eyes lit up and his entire body visibly relaxed. You hadn’t even realized he’d been tense until now. His gloved thumb gently traced the doors, and with all the care he could muster, he tapped the tiny droid you had placed inside.

“It even has an astromech,” he mused happily, and for whatever reason, he felt compelled to meet your eyes then.

His beauty was truly unfair. Even in the dim lighting of your ship, his eyes still sparkled, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like in broad daylight. Divine, surely.

“Um, yeah,” you replied, voice strained, “I found that separately.”

“It’s a good addition,” he praised, smiling at you, “I have an astromech myself. Flying isn’t the same without him.”

“The R2 unit,” you said, recalling its mention in his commission profile.

“His reputation precedes him then,” he chuckled, shaking his head fondly, “Makes sense. Big personality for a little droid.”

“I wasn’t aware that droids had personalities.”

“I’ve met droids more personable than some people.“

“Seems more likely that you’re just projecting your big personality onto them,” you scoffed.

He smiled at you again and gently placed the model back into your hands.

“Thanks for letting me look at it. That’s probably the nicest model ship I’ve ever seen.”

“Whatever,” you murmured.

Your ship made another creaking sound then, and tilted more than it should have at the next gust of wind. To your horror, you were knocked off kilter, N-1 model flying out of your hands as you fell towards the floor.

Luke caught you before you collided with the ground, but you hardly cared. You shoved him off of you as you scanned the ground for the model ship, and you began to panic when you couldn’t find it.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, and your head snapped up to see the tiny N-1 Starfighter hovering level to where you’d been holding it. You looked to see that his other hand was outstretched; he appeared to have used his powers to keep both you and your prized possession from hitting the floor.

Relieved as he gently moved the model back into your hands, you sighed and placed it in your desk drawer. You’d keep it there until your ship stopped swaying in the violent winds of Tatooine. You didn’t bother thanking him.

“Do you have any extra sheets or blankets? We can use those to seal the gaps for now,” he said, reminding you of why you’d both come into your quarters in the first place.

“A few, yeah,” you mumbled, pulling some extra sheets from the drawers under your bed. You tossed a couple into his hands, and the two of you exited your quarters and made your way back to the entrance.

He got to work immediately, stuffing the sheets into the cracks that ran along your door. You didn’t offer assistance, instead standing with your arms crossed in front of your chest as you watched him. He was out of sheets, but a small portion of the seal still remained unattended.

“Do you have any more?” he asked, turning back to look at you.

“No,” you snapped, glaring at him, “Can’t you use your cloak?”

He cocked his head at you then, and pursed his lips together in what may have been annoyance. Seeing his expression venture anywhere near irritation was surprising to you at this point, and you wondered if you should continue giving him a hard time just so you could see him lose his composure a little. Maybe then you could finally gain some insight into why the Empire regarded him as such a great threat.

“I told you not to ask me to take my clothes off,” he joked weakly, though he looked a little uncomfortable.

“It’s the perfect size. Why not?”

“I just don’t want to,” he huffed, seeming torn between honoring your request and keeping his robe on.

“Not very noble of you, Jedi.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, eyes narrowing at you, “You’re trying to get under my skin. If I’m stuck here until the storm blows over, shouldn’t we at least be civil?”

“Your stoicism is annoying me. I can’t be civil if I’m annoyed.”

He stared at you for a second before sighing, his shoulders slumping a little.

“Sorry?” he replied, brows furrowed, “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to be acting, but I can be quiet for the rest of the night if that helps.”

For some reason, you were beginning to regret trying to annoy him. He wasn’t actually growing irritated with you; he just seemed hurt.

“I’m going to bed,” you said then, deciding this was a bandaid fix to your growing uncertainty surrounding your bounty, “I guess you can leave when the storm calms down, since I’m apparently not going to turn you in. Don’t break anything.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, seemingly surprised by your response, “Okay. Well, it was nice meeting you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” you murmured, and with that, you stormed off towards your quarters, managing not to look back at him a single time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sleep didn’t come easily to you. Perhaps it was because you had left a supposed Jedi unattended in your cockpit, or maybe it was because of the harsh wind blowing against the side of your ship, which was already in worrisome condition. Regardless of the reasoning, you were struggling to rest.

After a few hours of trying in vain to sleep, you finally decided to give up. In your night robes, you ventured back into the cockpit, half expecting Luke to have vanished into the night.

How wrong you were.

There, having leaned the co-pilot’s chair as far back as it would go (which wasn’t very far, admittedly), sat Luke Skywalker. His knees were pulled to his chest, and his head rested against the back of the chair, his eyes closed. A shiver passed through him, and only then did you realize that he wasn’t wearing his cloak. You walked back towards the entrance door then, only to see that he had, in fact, shoved his robe into the remaining gaps. You sighed, a degree of guilt you hadn’t felt in years creeping up on you and gripping your conscience.

Reluctantly, you returned to the cockpit and roughly shook him by his shoulders. He jolted awake, eyes wide as he momentarily panicked. Much to your dismay, he immediately relaxed upon realizing it was you. This was an insult to your career.

“Is the storm over?” he asked, voice strained and raspy from sleep. You hated how attractive you found it.

“No,” you mumbled, unable to stop yourself from staring into his soft, tired eyes, “Come on.”

Confused, but willing to follow you anyway, he stood, trailing behind you as you led him back towards your quarters.

“Get your cloak,” you snapped when you passed the entryway, and he quickly complied.

“Some sand might get through—“

“I don’t care. Just take your shit.”

“Okay,” he replied, stifling a giggle. You rolled your eyes.

When you entered your quarters, you climbed back into bed. He stood, looking a little uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything. Begrudgingly, you tossed a pillow down onto the rug next to your bed.

“Not being able to see you is stressing me out,” you said then, trying to sound as menacing as you could. Apparently, your efforts were in vain.

“Aw,” he hummed, taking a seat on your rug, “That’s sweet. Thank you.”

“I meant—“ you began, but you sighed in defeat when you caught sight of his sleepy smile, “Okay, whatever. I’m going back to sleep. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, still grinning at you, “Goodnight. Thanks for the pillow.”

You didn’t reply, instead turning on your side so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

This was the most troublesome bounty you’d ever agreed to.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren’t sure why, but you awoke with a start, unable to breathe. You gasped and reached for your weapon, your fight or flight response immediately kicking in. When you were able to fully open your eyes, you realized in terror that you were face to face with a Trandoshan, his hands around your throat and his claws digging into your skin. Eyes widening, you managed to clutch the small knife you kept under your pillow, and shoved the blade into the side of the creature’s neck. He howled out in pain just long enough to allow you to roll out of your bed. You hit the floor hard, but managed to recover as you finally made it to your feet. Your blaster sat on your desk, and you made a beeline for it as you continued to cough from the assailant’s attack on your throat.

As your fingers wrapped around the handle of your blaster, you suddenly felt claws digging into your ankle, pulling you backwards and making you hit the ground again. You gasped, the air having been knocked out of your lungs, but didn’t release your hold on your blaster. The Trandoshan lifted you by your ankle and slammed your body onto the floor, your head making a horrible sound as it collided with the steel below. Grunting, you held onto your blaster for dear life, trying to think clearly enough to fend off the attack on your life.

You feigned unconsciousness if only to stave off another collision with the floor. The Trandoshan moved to kick your blaster from your hand then, but in a panicked effort to save yourself, you rolled to the side. You caught your attacker off guard enough to fire a shot to his knee, but knowing Trandoshans and their cockroach-esque abilities, it wouldn’t be enough. You fired off another shot into the creature’s neck, near where you’d shoved the blade, and you finally managed to bring him to the ground. Heart beating fast, you pointed your blaster at his head and kept your finger on the trigger until you were sure he was no longer breathing.

Hearing a commotion elsewhere on your ship, your adrenaline motivated you to race down the corridor and into the cockpit. To your horror, you saw that three more Trandoshans had infiltrated. You were confused by the corpse of one sitting on the floor next to a defeated assassin droid, but your confusion was quickly resolved when you caught sight of Luke standing on top of the co-pilot’s chair. He was unarmed, and yet a Trandoshan and assassin droid lay dead on the ground. You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

“You are outnumbered,” one of the Trandoshans hissed, blaster pointed at Luke.

Luke caught sight of you then, and before you knew what was happening, your blaster was flying through the air and into his hand.

“Hey!” you shouted, but he ignored you as he quickly fired a round into the two Trandoshans standing in front of him. You weren’t able to warn him about the lack of ammunition in your blaster before it was too late, and he frowned as he realized that he no longer had a weapon. The last Trandoshan charged at him then, but he dodged the attack by jumping off of the chair and landing gracefully on his feet.

The attacker shot at him as he skillfully evaded the bullets. You were impressed, but you couldn’t help but frown as your floors were maimed. Luke kept him firing until the Trandoshan was out of ammunition as well, leaving him with no choice but to engage the Jedi in close combat. Luke had no problem with this, practically dancing around the Trandoshan as he fended off his attacks. The creature did finally land a hit on him, however, and you winced as blood trickled down his nose.

You ran towards your arsenal then, deciding that Luke no longer had the situation under control. You picked up two more blasters and then scurried back into the cockpit, ready to shoot down the intruder. When you arrived, however, the Trandoshan’s feet were no longer touching the ground. You followed his panicked gaze until your eyes landed on Luke, whose outstretched hand appeared to be the culprit behind the floating creature in your cockpit. His expression was sharp as he clutched his hand into a fist, and with a final gasp, the Trandoshan fell to the ground, dead.

Luke panted, walking backwards until the back of his knees hit the co-pilot’s chair. He collapsed onto it then, trying to catch his breath as he sat with his head in his hand.

Only then did you finally begin to realize the danger he posed. You had struggled to take out one Trandoshan, and he had managed to kill four and an assassin droid in the same amount of time. He was only armed for two of those kills, and you felt a little sick at the realization that you had been sleeping in the same room as a man who could choke people with his mind.

Blood trickled from his nose and down his chin, but he seemed rather indifferent to it. Sighing, you approached him cautiously, blaster still in your hand as you neared the man in your cockpit. He must have sensed you growing near, because his eyes flew open and he looked up at you.

“Hey,” he greeted you softly, his voice strained, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

You stared at him for a second, bewildered by the implication that he’d intended to fight off all of the attackers on his own while letting you sleep.

“One of them made it into my quarters,” you replied, unsure of what else to say. His face fell, and he stood to survey your body for an indication that you were hurt. You weren’t sure how, but he managed to find one, and you froze when his gloved hand caressed your cheek.

“You’re injured,” he said in between his ragged breaths, hand moving to touch your forehead, “Where’s your ‘fresher?”

You blinked at him and pointed down the hallway, unable to protest as he grabbed your hand and dragged you to your own restroom. Blood still dripping down his face, he made you sit on the lid of the toilet as he searched for a first aid kit. He really must have had some unnatural ability to find what he was looking for, because he returned with it in his hand.

“You’re bleeding,” he told you then, kneeling in front of you as he put a cloth under your nose, “Blow.”

You obeyed, a little dazed, but he stopped you.

“Not that hard,” he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes and blew your nose a bit more gently. He folded the cloth then and made you lean forward a bit, placing it in your hand and making you hold it. He then guided your other hand to pinch your nose.

“Sit like that for a few minutes. Don’t blow your nose again unless I tell you to.”

“You’re bleeding,” you told him, your own voice coming out as nasally. You cringed at the sound, but he giggled.

“Yeah, but you’re the one with a likely concussion. I’m alright.”

He leaned over your sink as he tended to his own nose, and you frowned when he spit a bit of blood into it, quickly rinsing it down by turning on the faucet.

“Who were they?” you finally asked, beginning to sort through the haze in your brain.

“Trandoshans. Dangerous, known for hunting Wookiees—“

“I know what Trandoshans are,” you snorted.

“Sorry, right. You’re a bounty hunter. I didn’t know what they were until a few months ago when they started trying to kill me, but then again, I’m from the middle of nowhere. Anyway, yeah. They broke in—you really need to get your doors fixed—because they saw us leave the cantina together. They were after me. I’m sorry that you got hurt.”

He sounded so sad towards the end that you could hardly stand it, and you couldn’t get over how ridiculous he was for apologizing for attracting additional bounty hunters when you were the one who had kidnapped him in the first place.

“I made you come here against your will. Don’t apologize for my mistakes,” you murmured.

Perhaps it was the mental fog resulting from your possible concussion, but you felt a little more relaxed around him than before. Considering how you’d just seen him decimate an entire group of bounty hunters, it was certainly a little ironic. Still, he was tending to your wounds and profusely apologizing when it wasn’t even his fault to begin with, and you couldn’t help how fascinated you were by his actions. You’d never met anyone like him.

“I could’ve left. I’m from Tatooine, you know. I could’ve handled the storm,” he mumbled, spitting some more blood into your sink.

“I told you not to. Because of the sand,” you reminded him.

“But I should’ve known that staying was risky. I put you in danger because I was being selfish. I’m sorry,” he said seriously, meeting your eyes with an expression so sad that you wanted to throw up.

“It was my poor judgment. Not yours,” you replied, voice quite stern despite the nasally pitch that pinching your nose made inevitable.

“No,” he mumbled quietly, cheeks a little red, “I wanted to stay. I was looking for a reason to. It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“What?” you asked, confused by his admission, “Why? I was trying to kidnap you.”

“I mean, I could’ve gotten out of that,” he replied, gesturing towards the bodies in your cockpit, “I just didn’t want to. You’re really interesting, and like I said, I haven’t spoken to anyone my own age in two months now, and you’re really funny—“

“You’re insane,” you mused in disbelief, “You’re so lonely that you’d befriend someone who’s actively trying to get you killed?”

“You make it sound embarrassing,” he grumbled, frowning. It was cute.

“It is embarrassing,” you teased, staring at him as he tried to stop his nose from bleeding, “You should be more careful. What if I had hurt you while you were sleeping?”

“I would’ve woken up,” he argued, “Look, I’m not trying to sound arrogant or anything, but I really think I could’ve held my own against you. And besides, you weren’t gonna turn me in.”

“How would you know?”

“I sensed it,” he replied, grinning. A little bit of blood had pooled around his teeth. Sighing, you tore off some toilet paper and stood, shoving it into his mouth. He squawked in surprise, hitting his head against the wall as he walked backwards. After you wiped the blood from his teeth, you threw the tissue into the garbage alongside the cloth you’d been holding under your nose. He continued to stare at you in utter disbelief, as if wiping the blood from his mouth was the craziest part of this night.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“You just put paper in my mouth,” he replied, “Warn me next time.”

This was the most emotive you’d seen him all night. You couldn’t conceal your amusement.

“So I can do it again if I warn you?” you asked, wondering if the punches he’d endured had given him a concussion as well.

“Sure? But I almost bit you, like, reflexively. So just let me know before you do something like that.”

Of course he was only so stressed because he was worried that he might’ve hurt you. You rolled your eyes and laughed in spite of yourself. Only when his expression softened did you realize what you’d done.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” he said sincerely, smiling at you with blood still trickling down his face. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I think you have a concussion,” you huffed, crossing your arms and watching him in the mirror as he tended to his injuries.

“Probably,” he laughed, pinching his nose, “I need to stop getting hit in the face. It’s fine every now and then, but this has happened quite a few times this month.”

“You’re gonna get a permanent brain injury or something. Why not just leave Tatooine if so many bounty hunters are tracing you back to here?”

“Jedi stuff,” he replied, grinning as he made eye contact with you through the bathroom mirror.

“Sounds like a load of shit. Nothing is worth risking your life every few days.”

“Rich, coming from a bounty hunter.”

“Except for money,” you clarified, and hearing him giggle as a result felt like a small victory to you for reasons you didn’t really want to think critically about.

“I value knowledge more than money,” he said, “But if you must know, I do have other business on Tatooine.”

“So you’ve said. You never elaborated.”

“My friend is stuck here. I’m working on getting him out,” he told you simply, tossing his bloodied tissue into the trashcan and shrugging.

“Sounds like your friend might be more trouble than he’s worth if you’ve had to put up with a bunch of bloody noses while coming up with a plan.”

“He’s trouble,” he agreed, smiling, “But he’s certainly worth it. He’d do the same for me.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever had a relationship like that—one where you’d risk your life to save the other person. You weren’t surprised that someone like Luke would have plenty of deeply meaningful friendships, though. You could see how his friends would treasure him, and how he’d do the same. That seemed to be the kind of person he was.

“I’m sure he would,” you replied, somewhat absentmindedly as you admired him.

“Do you hear that?” he asked suddenly, turning to face you with wide eyes.

“No?”

“The storm is over,” he declared, and he practically raced out of your bathroom and into the cockpit to see for himself. He paid no mind to the bodies of the bounty hunters he stepped over, his demeanor greatly contrasting the rather morbid scene.

He was right. The twin suns were beginning to rise, the air now appearing somewhat clear.

“Have you ever seen a sunrise on Tatooine?” he asked then, watching you as you stared out at the pink sky. You shook your head.

“Then we should go see it,” he decided, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the entrance ramp.

“If I’m not turning you in, I need to pick up another commission. I should go—“

“You should get checked out by a medical droid before you fly this thing. You definitely have a concussion.”

“You’re not a doctor,” you argued as he pulled your sheets from the cracks in the door, folding them before placing them on the ground, because of course he would.

“Which is why we should get you to someone who can confirm what I already sense,” he replied somewhat teasingly, “Let me show you the sunrise first. Your head will probably hurt afterwards because of how bright it’ll be, and then I’ll feel vindicated and we’ll find a medical droid. Sound good?”

“I have a job,” you protested, but he was already pulling you outside.

“You can’t do your job with a head injury,” he said, and before you could put up any further complaints, he was dragging you outside.

Following your bounty to go watch the sunrise was not how you had expected this job to go; however, in spite of yourself, you felt the smallest ember of joy begin to burn within you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

He was right about three things.

The first was that the Tatooine sunrise was truly something to behold. He had climbed onto the roof of the tallest building in Mos Eisley, and you begrudgingly followed him. As the twin suns began to make their debut, however, you were glad that he’d made you do this. You didn’t think that Tatooine had any beauty to offer, but you were quickly proven wrong by the scene unfolding before you.

The second was that you had a concussion. He found a medical droid for you after you had, in fact, complained about the brightness of the suns once they had fully emerged, and you were told that you had a very mild head injury. You’d be fine, but the droid advised against flying for the next few days. Luke seemed all too pleased by this news, and offered to let you stay with him for a bit. He was likely just lonely as a consequence of being on Tatooine by himself for so long, but someone wanting you around was still a foreign and strangely pleasant feeling. In spite of yourself, you relished in it.

The third was that you were not, as he’d said from the very beginning, going to turn him over to the Empire. How could you? Anyone who spent more than a few minutes in his presence would struggle to put him in harm’s way. In fact, he was probably using some sort of mind trick on you. That was the only explanation for the sudden softening of your calloused heart. He must have this effect on everyone, and that’s what made him so dangerous.

Even with your skepticisms, you were injured and trapped on a dangerous planet with no one else to rely on. So, when your stomach rumbled that evening and he reluctantly told you that he only knew of one place for food in Mos Eisley, you finally agreed to follow him back into the cantina.

The prostitute from before scowled at you as soon as you entered, but to your surprise, the bartender just shook his head, as if he had been expecting this result all along.

“Evening, Luke,” he greeted him, sliding a glass of blue milk onto the counter as the Jedi took a seat, “I see you’ve made another friend.”

“Something like that,” he replied, and you knew he was grinning even though his hood covered his face, “Could we maybe do another sandwich, if it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Two?” he asked, and when Luke nodded, he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Think he’ll still serve me beer after I almost shot his customers?” you whispered, and Luke, of course, giggled.

“You need water. You shouldn’t drink with a concussion,” he chided, hand patting your knee like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your stomach flipped at the contact, and you almost fell out of the barstool when he kept his hand there, clutching his blue milk with the other.

The bartender emerged then, carrying two sandwiches. Luke thanked him and ordered you a water, much to your annoyance, and happily ate his sandwich with one hand. When the bartender returned, he brought out another dustcrepe. Luke perked up immediately.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much better these make me feel,” he said sincerely, cutting the dessert in half and sliding the plate over so you could reach it more easily.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he replied, “I appreciate your help around here.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to, but it wasn’t really your place to ask questions, seeing as you’d pulled a gun on two of his patrons yesterday. You also didn’t have a hard time believing that Luke would go out of his way to do something nice for the owner of a Mos Eisley cantina. It was incredibly on brand for him.

At some point, the bartender caught sight of Luke’s hand on your knee, and you were somehow even more embarrassed by this than the fact that you had threatened to kill his customers the day prior. You blushed furiously as the man raised a knowing eyebrow at you.

“He won you over,” he mused, a small grin playing at his lips, “Did he give you the shirt off his back?”

“His cloak,” you murmured, scowling and looking away. The bartender laughed, and Luke looked up from his dustcrepe to smile at you.

Although he had been right about everything else, there was one thing he’d gotten wrong.

“Nothing sweet ever came from Tatooine.”

It’s what he’d said the day prior while sheepishly asking for a dustcrepe. You’d thought the same until yesterday, but now, as he sat in front of you, you knew he was wrong.

After all, Luke himself had come from Tatooine. And what was he if not sweet?

Needless to say, you lingered on the planet long after your headache had subsided.

[lovers-cherry]

MARK HAMILL was not someone you expected to be so magnetic. And yet, the moment you were in the same room as him, it made perfect sense. Of course he was an actor—he carried that effortless kind of charm that seemed to draw people in without trying. There was something natural about him, something unforced, and it paired seamlessly with his talent. He was expressive in everything he did, never holding back, never tempering himself for the sake of subtlety.

It wasn’t just admirable, it was inspiring and that alone made you acutely aware of just how lucky you were to be part of a project like this.

Truth be told, the casting process had been nothing short of rigorous. You trusted your agent—you always had. She believed in you, in what you could do, in what you could still become but even then, this was your third meeting for the role.

It was unusual and unlike anything you’d gone through before but if anything, the challenge had become… entertaining.

They weren’t just looking for individual talent. What they wanted, what they needed—was chemistry. Group chemistry, specifically. That much became obvious the moment you were placed into a small group during rehearsals and screen tests with George, the director.

There were four of you, moving through scenes together, testing dynamics, watching how you played off one another and how that can translate into what they were looking for in the project. 

The scene you were called in for today leaned heavily into that. It required a constant back-and-forth between characters—quick exchanges, reactive timing, a rhythm that had to feel natural. You only had an excerpt of the script to work from, but even within those few pages, you could already sense the scale of it all. The space jargon, the unfamiliar terminology; it painted something expansive, almost overwhelming and yet beneath it, you could recognize the structure, the familiar beats of a compelling story.

You glance down at your script, though you hardly need to. The lines are already committed to memory. It had been easier this time around, knowing you’d be working alongside your scene partners instead of carrying the moment alone.

There was nothing to worry about. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

When your group of three for today is finally called, you rise from your seat and follow the two men you’ve been paired with throughout the process. Even now, you can feel it; that easy sense of rhythm between you, the kind of synergy that doesn’t need to be forced.

You step into the room together, exchanging greetings and polite smiles before taking your places.

Then the nerves settle in. You try to steady yourself, drawing in a slow breath, then another. This is the moment. The one that matters. You need to deliver the lines right—feel them, not just recite them and if everything aligns, maybe… just maybe, you’ll land the role.

But thinking too far ahead only tightens the pressure around your chest. So you ground yourself the only way you can. You glance at your scene partners and then your gaze lingers on him, the blond-haired one.

Your eyes trace the way his hair catches the light, how the color seems to glow just slightly under it. It suits him effortlessly standing out in a way that feels almost deliberate. There’s a softness to it, something inviting, and you catch yourself wondering briefly, idly what it might feel like to touch it. The thought lingers a second too long.

A soft clearing of a throat cuts through the room and just like that, you’re pulled back to the present.

“Ready, yeah,” you answer with a small nod, offering a polite smile to everyone in the room as you signal that you’re prepared to begin.

You let yourself settle into the rhythm of the scene, following the natural beats of each line as they unfold. For now, your role requires patience; listening more than speaking. From what you’ve gathered from the excerpts, your character carries a quiet tension, an internal conflict that simmers beneath the surface. There’s a push and pull within her between the life she’s always known and the uncertain pull toward something greater, something right.

Harrison’s voice cuts through the room first: low, grounded, deliberate. It contrasts sharply with Mark’s, whose tone carries a brighter edge, more impulsive, more reactive. The two of them fall into a natural rhythm, their bickering effortless, almost instinctive, and it draws you in despite yourself.

At first, you’re simply following along, listening,  and waiting for your cue. But then your focus begins to drift and your gaze lingers a moment too long.

You notice his eyes and how strikingly blue they are. Maybe it’s the lighting in the room; carefully placed, a little too perfect but you’re certain the color would look even more vivid under natural sunlight. The thought lingers as your attention trails further, mapping the lines of his face with quiet curiosity. The shape of his jaw, the movement of his lips as he delivers each line with unwavering commitment and before you can stop yourself, your gaze dips lower, following the subtle line of his throat.

You look back up and he’s already looking at you. There’s a sudden stillness in the room, one you hadn’t noticed creeping in.

Mark is watching you now, his expression open, expectant. His blue eyes hold yours with quiet patience, waiting—for you.

Shit.

Heat rises almost instantly, blooming at the back of your neck, but you recover quickly; faster than the moment deserves. The hesitation barely lingers before you step into your lines, delivering them with just enough breathlessness to blur the line between intention and accident.

If anyone notices, you hope they’ll read it as a choice, an artistic and deliberate one, for your sake.  You bite lightly against the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay grounded and present now. There are only a few lines left; you just need to finish strong, give them exactly what they’re looking for.

What you don’t catch, too focused on salvaging your composure, is the way a certain co-star has to subtly press his lips together, smoothing down the beginnings of a smile after catching you off guard. That moment, however small, is his to keep. 

==================================

Everything feels different on set. The transition from audition rooms to a fully realized production is almost overwhelming. The sets are expansive, meticulously built; lights hang overhead in careful arrangements, and equipment hums quietly in the background, all working together to bring this world to life and somehow, you’re part of it.

You made the cut. Your group had what they were looking for; something that worked and you carry that knowledge with a quiet determination to prove them right.

Even if you feel a little ridiculous in the costume.

The all-white uniform fits the world, of course. A space-bound story demands something sleek, something otherworldly but wearing it is another matter entirely. It’s stiff in places, restrictive in others, though you’ve slowly adjusted after spending most of your days moving around in it. It’s become familiar and manageable over the course of time. 

What you hadn’t quite prepared for, though, was seeing your co-star in his. Today’s scene calls for your characters to meet for the first time inside the ship; a moment layered with tension, high stakes, and just enough levity to keep it from becoming too heavy. 

It required a careful balance. One you’re about to step into whether you’re ready or not.

You linger near your place on set, your helmet resting within arm’s reach, your hair carefully pinned up so it wouldn’t spill loose from beneath it. There’s a quiet lull in the activity around you, crew members moving with purpose, adjusting lights, checking equipment and for now, all you can do is wait.

It doesn’t take long before your attention drifts and it finds him almost instinctively.

You notice the changes first, the deliberate choices made to shape him into his character. His hair is lighter now, catching the overhead lights in a way that makes it almost glow. There’s a warmth to his skin too, a sun-kissed tone that wasn’t as pronounced before. It’s as if they took everything that already worked about him; every naturally striking feature and turned it up to eleven.

You can see the intention behind it and it’s working. Far too well.

A quiet, almost disbelieving thought crosses your mind, and you have to suppress a smile. God, you feel like a girl with a high school crush. But really, can you blame yourself?

They’ve amplified that effortless, boyish charm of his, and that easy, unguarded smile… it does something to you. Makes your chest feel lighter, like you could float straight off the ground like maybe you could follow him into space if he asked.

You don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until laughter breaks through your thoughts. It was bright, unrestrained and it pulled you back instantly. 

You blink, your gaze sharpening as you look toward the source and of course, it’s him.

If it had been anyone else, you might’ve frowned, confused at what you’d missed. But coming from him, the sound only leaves you feeling warm, caught somewhere between shy and quietly delighted. You meet his eyes, your own smile beginning to form as your brows lift ever so slightly; a silent question passed between you.

He answers it easily. “I asked if I’ve got something on my face,” he says, amusement still laced in his voice. “Do I need to get back to the makeup chair or something?”

The realization hits all at once and heat blooms under your skin.

Oh.

You’d been caught.

You shake your head quickly, almost instinctively. At least he interpreted it as harmless scrutiny, not the shameless kind of staring you’re suddenly very aware you’d been doing. Though, admittedly, you’re not sure which would’ve been worse.

Still, you recover smiling, smoothing over the moment.

“No, no—you look great,” you assure him, a soft laugh slipping through as you gesture vaguely toward him. Your gaze flickers over his costume then, taking in the way the two of you match in that stark, unmistakable white.

“Just don’t like it when people copy my outfit,” you add lightly and the reaction is immediate.

His smile widens and something in your chest lifts at the sight of it, like you’ve been quietly rewarded.

“I like to think I wear it better,” he shoots back.

You give him an exaggerated look of disbelief, your nose scrunching as you shift your weight, subtly presenting your own uniform as if it were somehow superior despite the fact that it’s practically identical.

“Stolen valor,” you accuse with a squint of your eyes his way as you laugh, given the context of the film in the script the accusation held some truth and just like that, the two of you slip into an easy rhythm. Conversation flows effortlessly; light teasing, shared smiles, a growing familiarity that feels almost private despite the bustling set around you. It becomes its own little world, carved out in glances and quiet jokes. Eventually, though, work calls you back.

You’re guided into position, adjusted into your places and careful blockings for the camera, the scene beginning to take shape around you but even then, it doesn’t stop. The two of you still find each other in passing moments, exchanging knowing looks, small smiles, the promise of another joke waiting just beneath the surface.

Now that you’re actually sharing a scene with him, though—it’s harder. 

It’s difficult to stay focused because somewhere along the way, you’ve become a little intoxicated on it; the simple, undeniable thrill of being the one who can make him smile, make him laugh.

But you have a job to do and you will do it.

You steady yourself, drawing that line back into place; professionalism first. Still… just before the crew lifts your helmet into place, your gaze drifts back to him one last time.

As if he felt it, he looked at you and then he smiled, a quick, easy thing before it was followed by a wink.

Your heart stutters. It’s subtle, fleeting but unmistakable. A shared understanding, a quiet thread between you that feels just a little more personal than it should. You return the smile without thinking, letting yourself hold onto that moment for just a second longer before the helmet slides into place, cutting him from view.

The warmth doesn’t fade. It lingers, settling somewhere deep in your chest, steady and bright. It was motivating more than anything, you deny the truth that it makes you feel so warm inside and as you draw in a quiet breath, readying yourself for the scene you realize you might just need it.

Because it’s time to get back to work.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ @softlyoutoftune ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ʳᵉqᵘᵉˢᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ .ᐟ ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵉᵈ .ᐟ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ .ᐟ

[lxstfathier]

Mark would totally be the type of husband to fuck you in the bathroom during an award ceremony.

He does it right after receiving one of them for his nomination as the best actor in a leading role, pounding you rough on the counter, with your back against the cold mirror. His thrusts so hard and fast that you can feel him really deep inside you, creating the most filthy sounds.

And when both of you are close, he rubs your clit with his thumb, sending you over the edge while devouring your mouth with hungry kisses to swallow your moans. So you can do nothing but squirm and hold on to his expensive tuxedo.

Obviously, he cums inside of you, and then helps you put on your panties again, making you carry his load the entire night.

Maybe it’s a good thing that you chose to wear a long dress, in case that some of it drips down your leg 💕

[januaryembrs]

ALL FOR YOU | Luke Skywalker x reader

Request: Yay to 1k, well deserved! :))) <33 I hope you don't mind me asking for Luke skywalker x reader? I feel like there's so few pieces and overall love for him in fanfiction. Maybe something simple like them reuniting after he's taken up his quest and returns to Tattooine? Or Reader being fascinated by his lightsaber but too reserved to ask him for a demonstration let alone touching it? You decide, if none of these ideas appeal to you then I shall be happy with whatever you come up with instead, as it is a gain for the Luke fandom! <3

description: A familiar face strolls into your flower farm on Tatooine, four years after he abandoned you in search of a princess.

Word count: 1.1k

trigger warnings: sad, angst, crying, leaving reader, semi break up? ends in fluff I promise

main masterlist

Author’s note: I'm so sure I had a second Luke ask in my inbox that has gone missing so if anyone else asked for one that isn't this, please send it again I have no clue what's happened to it!

The air in your lungs felt dry as you swept the floor of your shop. It had been in your family generations, and quite successful too as a flora farmer on Tatooine seeing as the harsh sand air made it difficult for anyone to breed plants. You, however, had been blessed with a sheltered farm. Expensive to run but it was worth it seeing how beautiful the flowers bloomed at your tender hands.

You heard the bell to your front door open, though you were certain you had put it on the latch. “I’m sorry, we’re closed for the day,” You called over your shoulder, not paying attention to who it was who had intruded. Probably a mistake, you thought, cleaning the sharp grains of sand into a neat pile near the wall. You got little thievery this side of Mos Espa, and trusted the locals to be kind to you while your back was turned.

“I’m not here for flowers,” 

You froze in your place, back straightening tensely. You knew that voice; had always known that voice. 

It was the call to home, the spirit in your stomach on the most lethal of Tatooine storms, the nostalgia you feel smelling your mother’s cooking. Your childhood bedroom, your tenth life day, your first time at school where you met him. 

A mop of blonde hair that poked into his sight, round blue eyes that looked up at you in awe (you had always been taller than him growing up), the toothless smile he gave you when you offered him to share your new ink. 

Luke Skywalker had been your first kiss, your first dance, your best friend, your light on a dark sand night. It had been four years since he left home with the crazy old Ben, following two droids and a princess.

No word as to how he was, where he was going, or whether he intended to come back. Yet here he was.

You stood, mouth hanging agape, a frown pulling on your features. 

Luke fiddled with a long-stemmed funnel flower, a small smile gracing his features at your stunned expression. He knew he should have come back, he should have been back a long time ago. But he promised himself the day he found Leia and learnt of the depth the Empire wished to destroy the galaxy, he would not rest until he had made the universe safe for you again. 

Safe for you both, for the family you had always talked of starting together. 

“L-Luke?” You stuttered, broom clattering to the floor in your shocked state. Your eyes were deceiving you, surely. He had not come back for you, not said a word since that day. And now suddenly he was back here on a scum hole like Tatooine? “You- They said you were dead.”

“Dead?” He seemed confused now, stepping further into your shop with a soft look in his eyes. He looked tired, aged. He had grown taller since you last saw him, his arms seemed wider and his face more chiselled. But his eyes were the same, the way he flicked his hair subconsciously took you back to the little boy whose aunt had yet to cut his blonde locks. 

“You were captured by the Empire, that’s what they kept saying,” Your voice was hoarse, your eyes now stinging as they were rapidly filling with tears. “You and the Alderaan Princess. The two of you got captured from the resistance-”

Luke was in front of you now, and your sad gaze couldn’t take him in fast enough. He was still your Luke. He was older, seemed wiser as though the weight of the world, every world, had done nothing but press down on him the past four years.

“I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t let anyone take me from you,” He replied, his hands reaching out to hold the top of your arms, gentle as ever yet you could see in his face he was almost begging for you to react. Say something, yell at him for leaving, scream at him to get out, actually cry rather than stare at him so heartbroken and wetly. 

“They said-” You gulped, as you felt you were stuck on a loop of recalling all you had heard from him in the years that had passed. You huffed, willing yourself to actually spit out what was stabbing a thorn into your heart so deeply, “You left me.” 

You started crying. Sobbing and shaking, and Luke immediately pulled you into his chest. His smell hadn’t changed one bit, and the thought made you cry harder. 

“You ran off after another woman and said nothing for four years. I thought you were dead, I thought you hated me.” Came your muffled, throaty voice in his shoulder. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist, as if you didn’t trust him not to vanish at the touch. “I dreamed of this for so many nights, I didn’t realise it would hurt so much to see you again,”

Luke felt his eyes grow hot at your confession, neither happy nor sad to see him. Just hurt, and nor could he blame you. “I know.” He cleared the frog in his own throat, “I know, I’m sorry. Just please trust I stayed away to keep you safe. I could never live with myself if you had been hurt because of me,”

“So you left me for another woman?” You pulled away, looking at him aghast, wiping the tears on the back of your hand. It was in vain as more came barreling down anyway, landing on his black robes. 

“No! Never,” Luke sighed, bringing his forehead to meet yours, “Leia is… Leia’s my sister. I swear I’ll explain everything, there is so much for me to tell you just,” He brushed his nose against yours, “Please trust me. I was protecting you, I was trying to make things safe, for the life we want together,” His ocean blue eyes met yours, his filled with concern as he tried to read you. Your mind was so muddled even his force powers couldn’t quite decipher quite how it was you were feeling seeing as you didn’t even know yourself, “You do still want that with me, right?”

You sighed, feeling his words fan over your lips in a manner you had been dreaming of for four long years. You needed to kiss him; you hadn’t stopped needing him as embarrassing as it was. All you had ever known, all you had ever wanted was Luke Skywalker.

“Ofcour-” Somehow, Luke knew what you were thinking, what you needed, though there had never been a time when he didn’t, as he brought your lips together passionately. 

You thought it best to wait until his kiss stopped being so all-encompassing to ask about the lightsaber attached to his hip.

[delicategore]

lust for life (luke skywalker/f!reader, 18+)

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━ ⊰

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━ ⊰

꒰ ͜͡➸ pairing: luke skywalker x afab!reader

꒰ ͜͡➸ fandom: star wars

꒰ ͜͡➸ word count: 7.4k

꒰ ͜͡➸ summary: loving to push luke to his limits, you decide to try a new form of overstimulation together

꒰ ͜͡➸ tags/warnings: literally pwp, NO MINORS 18+!!!! handjob, dom!reader, sub!luke, overstimulation, (light) cum play

꒰ ͜͡➸ authors note: this is part of a new series i’m starting of explicit star wars reader inserts named after lana del rey songs - the songs don’t necessarily have any connection to the content of the writing, i just love lana

find and read the series on ao3 here

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━ ⊰

He looks so good beneath you that you unconsciously slow your movements for a second, desperate to admire his flushed features, commit his furrowed brow and quivering lip to memory.

It’s been less than a second without your hand stroking him before Luke starts whining, a pathetic, mewling sound, like a stray cat that needs a home. You know his hands would paw at you, try and refocus your attention to his cock, if they weren’t pinned firmly above his head. Nothing ties him down this time, however, he is well aware of the nature of punishment you would dish out were he to even attempt to alter their position, and so, they stay put.

“Patience, Luke,” you scold him, a playful lilt to your voice. It was hard to hide your excitement when you knew what this build up was leading to, when you remembered that Luke had seemed equally enthusiastic about what you had wanted to try tonight. “Only good boys get to cum. You know that.”

He whines beautifully in response, his eyes squeezing shut. With his lip trapped between his teeth, he makes an effort to untense his thigh muscles, relaxing himself. He was so good like that. He eventually manages a little nod in your direction, signalling his acknowledgement of your statement. Normally, you’d have preferred his words, but it seemed like he was just as wound up as you were, tonight, so you make the decision to let it slide, ghosting your hand over his inner thigh and humming.

The hand you have his cock wrapped in once again starts its ministrations, and Luke releases his bottom lip from his teeth with a sigh. When he opens his eyes, you can’t help but give him a little smile, and he can’t seem to help but return the favour, before his expression twists into one of pleasure as you twist your hand just like he likes it, nice and firm, but not too tight, your thumb putting extra pressure on the throbbing vein that runs the length of the underside of his cock.

He chokes out your name in a moan, and you know you’ve almost got him there. You have to resist the urge to still your hand, to pull away and leave him begging and pleading, as was per usual with Luke. No, tonight you wanted- needed him to cum all over your hand, and you needed it now.

In preparation for what was to come, you shifted your body to angle your naked thighs towards his own, starting to straddle him. Maybe it was your added weight on the sensitive skin of his thighs, or maybe it was the way your new position reminded him of what was to happen next, or maybe it was way you leaned down to lick against his lean chest, wet with perspiration, murmuring about how much you loved his cock, how much you loved the way he tasted, but soon Luke was letting out pant after pant, a sure sign that he really was close.

“Be a good boy for me, Lukey,” you administered the final push. “Cum all over my hand.”

With one last sharp twist of your hand, you made the quick shift to fully straddle him, sliding your slick cunt down over him just as the first spurt of his warm release shot out of him - and straight into you. Luke practically screamed your name, followed by a string of ‘Kriff!’s and ‘Oh, Maker!’s. You couldn’t contain your own moan as you finally felt him inside you, along with his spend now coating your walls.

Luke couldn’t stop panting, his hands flying from their place above his head to grab your thighs, the movement rocking you in the process, only making him whimper as you were involuntarily shifted on his cock.

Your eyelids fluttered as you took a moment to collect yourself. When you cast a glance down at Luke, he looked ethereal. Tears stained his rosy cheeks, more already brewing in his hazy eyes as he looked up at you, seemingly transfixed. His lips parted, there seemed to be a never ending string of noises pouring out his mouth, as he tried to gather himself, though his attempt was considerably less successful than your own.

“Too much?” you checked in, bringing a hand up to cup his jaw, stroking over his tear tracks and doing your best to catch his gaze. It was hard when his eyes seemed to want to dart all over your body, trying to take in every little detail of your naked form, much as you had been doing to him.

He shook his head, before realising after a moment that that wasn’t enough. You saw his throat bob as he carefully swallowed, finding his voice once more. “N-no,” he choked out. “Maker, no, could never be too much. This is- you’re- perfect, kriff, you’re so perfect, I don’t-”

“Shh,” you instructed, moving your hands behind you to rest on his thighs, giving yourself more leverage. “As long as you’re enjoying yourself, you just lay there and take it, my precious boy.”

He whined and nodded, moving his hands back to their previous position. What a good boy, you noted. You’d have to give him an extra reward later.

For now, you started a slow rhythm, mostly grinding down against his now softening cock, finding the angle that had his pubic bone hitting your clit just right, making you moan and squirm almost as much as he was.

Neither of you were expecting Luke to cum again, as he had stated that he was mostly interested in trying this out for your pleasure, but it was undeniable that he enjoyed the overstimulation on his spent cock, what with his thighs quivering and bucking up to try and meet your movements.

“Need you to cum,” Luke muttered, his voice beyond wrecked, completely hoarse. He had surprised you by speaking up, as you were sure he was far past still having control over such a thing, and in your state of shock, you had accidentally bounced on his cock, creating far more friction than either of you had experienced thus far. Luke let out a groan. “I-I was such a good b-boy for you, need you to cum and s-sh-show me how good I was. Please.”

Nodding, finding yourself a little beyond words at this point, you steadily tried another little bounce on Luke’s cock and found yourself moaning out at the feeling, beginning a faster rhythm than you had had before, now more determined than ever to reach your peak.

Just as you were about to warn Luke of your impending release, you watched as he brought one hand down from above his head, shakily reaching for your stomach, where some of his cum had hit, just before you had sunk down onto him. He collected the mess on his fingers and dragged them down over your lower belly-

You practically squealed when he began rubbing at your clit, using his own cum as lubrication, somehow managing to move his fingers just the way you liked, even in his fucked out state.

“I- I’m gonna-” Before you could finish the sentence, your eyes had squeezed shut as you came with a moan, clamping down around Luke’s cock. You continued moving on top of him throughout your orgasm, his fingers never letting up on your clit. You presumed he really must be loving the overstimulation he was experiencing, as he actively tried to prolong your release.

With one final grind of your hips, you slumped forward into Luke’s awaiting chest, his arms encircling you and holding you close. After a few measured breaths to regain the feeling in your arms and legs, you shimmied your way up his body, his soft cock slipping out of you. You shifted to the side of him and brought his head to rest on your shoulder, stroking through the matts in his blonde hair.

“Was it everything you imagined?” he murmured, clearly close to sleep, as he peered up at you, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“All that and more,” you smiled at him, giving his forehead a gentle kiss.

[lillianofliterature]

open fire | luke skywalker x reader

a/n: I’ve been going through my archive and trying to fix a lot of aesthetic and grammar errors in old posts (especially all the spelling errors my old laptop’s word processor didn’t catch), which includes needing to update this a little bit as a fic instead this imagine style it was in. I put it in the wrong post format before and couldn’t add a title when I tried to edit it. 

So if this sounds familiar to you, it’s because this is essentially a repost with some revised bits that took it from 1.4K to 1.6K. :P

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

[gif not mine, found on google ages ago.]

summary: while being taken prisoner on Cloud City alongside Leia, Chewie, and Han, you get the bright idea to stage an escape.

warnings: fighting, blaster violence, this is before Luke and Leia realize they’re twins lmao and the reader misinterpreted their connection

word count: 1.6K

music: Ben’s Death and TIE Fighter Attack by John Williams

You writhed in the harsh grip of the Stormtroopers as they ushered you down the marbled hall towards what you assumed would be your end. The more you fought to wrench yourself from their grasp, the more their gloved hands dug into your skin and wrinkled the fabric of your shirt. A few feet in front of you, a half dozen more troopers surrounded Princess Leia, leading your small procession toward the cells below the Cloud City palace.

As you grunted while trying to free yourself, you noticed Leia’s head turn to the side, her dark eyes trying to meet yours. 

“Stop fighting them, (Y/n). Not here. The more you resist, the more they resort to less affable solutions.” As she uttered the word ‘affable’, her tone turned flout and she sneered at the trooper to her left. Leia’s reply halted your attempts, but in her warning, you caught onto her subtle plan.

Not here. Not yet, anyway. 

You stopped fighting momentarily, allowing yourself to process the situation, to run through as many variables as you could. You looked at the troopers in front of you and surveyed their armor; where their guns were, where their armor didn’t quite cover their bodies, with which hands they grasped their weapons. Just above their boots was a break between their calves and their thighs; a window of opportunity. If you could swing your leg up far enough to your left, you could dead-leg the imp whose grip had agonized your arm and send him crashing into the trooper on your right. 

“It’s alright, kid. We’ll get out of this, one way or another.” You heard Han add from some distance behind you. The breathy state of his voice revealed that he, too, had tried freeing himself from their clutches. He was eager to find a way to escape and get back to the Falcon. Preferably before you reached the Sith lord eagerly awaiting the arrival of his new prisoners—Darth Vader himself.

You were already planning on it. 

As you rounded the corner, you noticed the shadows from the hall grow taller. They were taking you deeper within the city, further from exits, narrowing your chances. Your pulse hitched as you realized this. Adrenaline began coursing through you, quickening your heartbeat and making your skin clammy with sweat. 

If you didn’t try now, when would you ever have another chance? 

When you were locked away and looney from torture? 

Without thinking, you swung your leg up and sent that very same Stormtrooper to the ground with a thud. Although his fall didn’t distract the other on your right enough to lessen his grip, that didn’t stop you. You spun around and yanked down the other’s arm, thrusting the gun from his grasp and kneeing him in the gap under his breastplate. He doubled over and fell on top of the first, his gun clattering onto the ground. 

The commotion set in around you almost immediately; the shuffling of boots acclimated and the shouting of their voices through their mechanical helmets echoed around you. 

“’Atta girl, (Y/n)! Wahoo!” You heard Han’s shout for victory as he followed suit, attacking his own captors where they were weakest. They fell to the ground in a gathering heap of plastic and metal. Leia did the same, although with much more ease than you had (she had obviously done this before).

The blood rushed to your head and your nerves made your hands tremor as your thrust yourself forward onto the ground for the blaster. As your fingers wrapped around the handle, you swung around and pulled down on the trigger, downing another trooper who had been inches from yanking you up into his chest plate. You fired again and again, in every direction that a suit of white armor moved. 

Leia and Han began firing as well and within seconds you were the only three left standing in the corridor, but the relief did not come. Far down the hall, as if from every direction, boots thundered closer. You froze and looked frantically in every direction, unsure of where to go, unsure of which way lessened the chances of being shot…or worse, captured. 

“This way!” Leia shouted, directing both of you back in the direction you had come from. Soon enough, the unsettling sounds of pursuit died away into the distance and a tentative silence fell. You looked to Leia for guidance, unsure of the wisest move. Should you make a mad dash for the ship? Or scheme your way out of the city with a cunning plan? Maybe crawl through the vents—could any of you even fit?

Suddenly, another burst of blasts were fired down the hall, their red light reflecting upon the walls. With this chaotic turn of events, you felt a sudden urge of bravery surge through you. You were just a pilot, a girl who could fly ships and fire blasters. But Leia—she was a princess on her way to becoming a general. She wasn’t expendable. 

And in a sense, really, neither was Han. He was one of the best pilots in the galaxy and an important ally to the rebellion—and to the princess. With an honorable promotion coming his way, he was destined to do something great for the war effort. His brazen courage had caught the eye of the Rebellion and their leaders, meaning Han would be offered a vital position to serve to rebel forces. 

You, on the other hand, were just a star-crossed girl with a fancy for flying ships and a love for the sound of whirring engines. A girl who’d barely seen conflict, who had hardly known the hardships of war. A girl madly in love with a boy sworn to keep himself from any form of attachments… 

An image of Luke flashed in your mind, convicting you to act on it. If anything ever happened to Leia, it would crush him. Despite the twinge of jealousy in your heart, you couldn’t bear for Luke to lose the woman he loved. It would destroy him, just as knowing his love was for another was slowly destroying you.

“Han, get Leia out of here! You gotta get to the Falcon! Go through the air ducts!” You spit out orders, your voice breaking the pensive silence between you, accompanying the distant barrage of blaster-fire. 

As you took a few steps away, Han gave you a quizzical look, while Leia opened her mouth to object. 

“Just get out of here!” You shouted, turning on your heel and taking off down the corridor. You poised your blaster in front of your chest, ready to release a spray of cauterizing death to anything that moved. You could feel your heartbeat deafeningly in your head as your adrenaline surged, pulsing through your limbs like you’d been plugged into a circuit board. 

When you rounded the corner, the red light of lasers had subsided somewhat. You stuck to the wall and pinned yourself behind a pillar, peeking out every few seconds. Where had those troopers gone? Why had they retreated so quickly? Sure, your plan was unexpected, but not enough to scare off a whole regiment.

 Chancing, another glance around the corner, you hoped you’d find nothing more than a few corpses. To your disappointment, you saw the flash of movement around another doorway just across the hall, and the barrel of a blaster recede with it.

You sucked in your breath as if to hide your presence from the trooper for as long as you could; but what good would hiding do a this point? They knew you were there, they knew their prisoners had staged a mutiny. 

Without further thought, you jumped out of concealment and opened fire, which ricocheted off the marble and flared down the hall, leaving scorch marks where it had collided. You kept firing, hoping for the stars to hit something and save Han and Leia’s skins. 

The figure jumped behind the pillar with blurred haste, unwilling to risk being mutilated—even by a girl who was currently taking no aim but firing with gumption regardless. 

When you felt you had done enough, you lunged back behind the pillar, hoping to dodge their retaliation. You knew better than to assume you’d downed them that quickly. Your chest heaved and you stood as still as you could against the cold wall, praying and hoping whoever, or whatever, got your hint. 

Especially if it was another imperial. 

You held your blaster to your chest once again, the barrel pointed upwards. 

You were ready to open fire once more when the shadow of a figure cascaded by your feet. You stuck your blaster forwards and let out a gasp of air, frightened and unsure of yourself, but no less brave. 

One bright flare had left the barrel but never met the mark. It was not the sight before you that halted your finger from crushing the trigger again, but a force of pressure on your muscles that made your entire body freeze against your will. The one blast you had managed to fire hung suspended and burning in the air for a grueling second before it crashed into the adjacent wall, crackling against the smooth stone.

“(Y/n), it’s me! Don’t shoot!” A boyish voice barked.

When you took in the figure’s features, your body relaxed, however, your heart refused to calm its rapid pace. His hand was suspended in the air, his ability to use the Force the only thing having saved him from being shot. His sandy blonde hair was all too familiar, as well as his wonderfully blue eyes. 

“Luke?”

tags: @yana-versio​ @tessaem @izbelross​ @lilyevans1​