#hurt luke skywalker

[emi-gelfling]

BobaDin seems to be something of a rarepair in the star wars fandom, but it's one of the most equal-playing fields for a couple in this franchise. Both experienced, dangerous fighters who follow codes of honor and are still recovering from deep personal losses? It's the mandalorian dream ship!

LINK TO SERIES:

[eveningserenityyy]

In sickness and In Health | One Shot

Rating: General.

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x reader

Word Count: 3215k

Summary: Luke thinks the day shall be seemingly peaceful and perfectly content…until he finds you struck with an illness he must help care for.

A/N: I started writing this when I was sick, and whilst i'm better now, I do hope this helps comfort two of my friends who are! <3

Luke woke up early this seemingly delightful morning, eyes both kissed and scorched by the golden rays of the morning sun as it dawned upon his sleepy figure; easing him into a state of consciousness.

His first instinct, just as the day before and just as likely fated to be the same tomorrow, is to turn his attention to you in order for you to be the first thing he sees and may admire when he awakens. That alone is the key to a great day in his opinion, getting to wake up next to you and watch as your chest rises and falls with light breaths, and the way your lips are slightly parted with your messy hair framing your pretty face. 

His day cannot start until he can be assured you are next to him, safe and happy in his loving gaze.

You seem so peaceful and content, therefore he did not have the heart to wake you up so selfishly. He leaned over, careful for his movements to be anything but heavy as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek; the heat of your flesh warm and inviting against his soft lips.

Naturally, he finds himself to be smiling as he rises from the bed, getting himself dressed and ready to attend to his students. 

He hates to leave you just to wake up on your own whenever that time may be, yet alas, he would have to go regardless of his desires. You would be just fine, and close by if anything were to happen.

He whispered a sweet “I love you.” before leaving you to your rest, hoping you don’t wake up too lonely whilst he's gone. 

Soon after, the fog of dreams lifted on your end, and reality was born before your eyes as they fluttered open just to squeeze shut again in mere seconds. It wasn’t simply the sunlight of which was a source of woe, but too the dizzying pressure in your head that had struck you immediately.

Something was deeply wrong, wrong enough to be noticed despite the dreadful sleepiness that swarmed you like a warm weighted blanket fresh from the dryer. 

You sniffled, noticing how both stuffy and runny your nose felt- there too was a soreness in your throat, gathering the unrelenting need to clear it over and over as fluids coated it on the inside.

“No…not today!” You could not help but whine in such a moment as this, dreading the very idea of being sick so suddenly and without warning. 

Okay, that's not entirely true- for over the past two days, you’d noticed your throat felt rather dry, but being sick never crossed your mind. Instead, you simply drowned your throat in water and called it a day. You thought perhaps you had spoken too much, or hadn’t drank enough water, for germs were never a suspect.

Immediately, your body and mind craved comfort and care for this curse of illness casted upon you. You wanted to be cuddled, soothed, and brought copious amounts of soup until you could start feeling better at last, to be cared for as a parent does for a child. 

You wanted Luke most of all, reaching out for the empty space next to you where he no longer was; The only remnants of his presence was that of his imprint left in the mattress, the imprint of which had been lovingly filled when you had first gone to rest the night before. 

You extended your arm, reaching for his pillow as you brought it close to you like a teddy bear. You nuzzled your face into it, gathering his scent, for the pillow smelt of him; eucalyptus, and the light mist of fresh springwater, paired with a flowery scent that you could not put your finger on but was comforting nevertheless. You did in fact worry that your germs would swarm the fabric, but you could always wash it later- you needed the comfort when in such a state as this, and you dearly hoped he would not mind (Which, in all probability, he wouldn’t).

A sharp pain then built in your throat, mimicking the sharp stabbing of a dozen knives as it caused you to cough about a dozen times. You couldn’t stop as hard as you tried, a tingling feeling in the back of your throat that demanded your coughs of suffrage as compensation. Your throat was beyond irritated, close to nausea after such a fit.

You just about wanted to cry, too tired to deal with this. It wasn’t fair, and so suddenly were you mourning the days when your illness was beyond comprehension, when you could lay back without the mucus wishing to be drained.

Furthermore, from a distance did Luke sense something to be wrong indeed, the very fabric of the force singing to him in silent desperation. He attempted to focus on it, yet the younglings had so many questions for him at this time in their lesson, therefore he waited until the break in between sessions to go and check on just what was the matter.

Once the break commenced, he was quick to return to you, wasting no time as he entered the home you had shared and built together. 

As he entered the bedroom, his heart dropped as he saw you curled up under the blankets, your poor figure shivering and holding his pillow to your body as you struggled to keep the coughs at bay.

You appeared so weak and delicate, suffering under the effects of a sneaky illness. He couldn’t stand to see you this way, immediately tending to your side as he crouched next to you, pressing a hand to your forehead before placing his lips there instead, feeling the warmth you radiated so violently.

“Luke?” You mumbled out, voice sounding so rough and weakened. You had barely noticed him enter the room, a telltale sign of your state.

“I’m here, star, im here…” He tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, despite how much it pained him to see you like this. “Sick, huh?”

You nodded with a frown, sniffling to drain your nose as your eyes wet themselves with the buildup of tears. “I don’t…don’t feel good-”

He had the strongest urge to care for you, to do everything in his power to make you feel a little less terrible than you did now. How could he leave you like this? His heart sank at seeing your state of being, and he simply wished to do all he could for you.

He made a choice in regards to the day he had originally planned, one he was perfectly content with.  “I’ll be right back, alright? Try and rest. Close your eyes for me, it’ll help.”

You complied, eyes falling heavy as you heard his footsteps disappear into the distance. You wondered what he was doing, although your brain was much too fried to think about anything too deeply. 

After a few minutes, he came right back, once again crouched by your side with a cold cloth to be placed on your forehead. You hummed in response, for it felt so nice on your skin. It was the best sensation you had felt all morning, compared to the waging war of your immune system.

You then remembered something, gazing up at him with tired eyes as it occurred to you. “Mmm’ Luke…don’t-” Cough, “-You have-” Cough. “-Class today?”

He smiled warmly, shaking his head as if to reassure you as quickly as possible. “I cancelled, don’t worry. Who else will take care of you but me?”

You were glad, although did not let it show as to not be selfish over his time you had stolen from the padawans. “You didn’t have to do that…”

“Star,” The loving nickname lingered over his tongue, drawing it out as if to question you with a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re hugging my pillow for comfort- I think you need me.”

You blushed, or at least you think you did if your face isn’t already pink tinted. You and Luke were equally needy when it came to each other, sure, yet that intensified when you were sick- you’d have him glued to your side if you could.

He brought a hand to your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers. “Can I make you some soup, see if that helps you?”

You nodded, weakly so. “Please…I would like that, if you don't mind.”

“The regular, I assume?” He asked for clarification, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He knew you liked to be cared for whilst also not wanting to be a burden, but to him, you could never be such a thing. Caring for you made him happy, for he could help soothe the one he loved most.

“Mhm.” You hummed in response, thus watching as he got up to make his way over to the kitchen, your eyes struggling to stay open as you found yourself succumbing to the dark fog that was a deserved nap.

It's truly a surprise that you could fall asleep at all when in such a condition, therefore you would take whatever chance you got for some rest.

Luke smiled to himself, knowing you were napping peacefully, and for that he was glad. It was the one moment in which you could have any true peace, not having to experience the effects that's plagued you so terribly. 

He loved you so much, and hated seeing you sick more than he naturally should. He loved seeing you smile, or strut about the room with such grace, making his heart burn for you with the sound of your laughter…but seeing you so weak and fragile, so pale and miserable at that, brought him great pain.

He gathered the ingredients at the kitchen counter, setting up the pot and cutting up some vegetables for your soup with a rapid ease.

He thought himself to be a decent cook, with recipes he already knew, at least. He had his aunt to thank for that, having taught him how to cook select recipes when he was growing up. 

This soup was always one of his favourites, and now one of yours, of which Beru had taught him how to make. It was a simple recipe, lots of spices- there was only one thing he had adjusted for your liking, and that was grating the carrots in as opposed to chopping them. It was a texture thing for you, mushy carrots not having much of an appeal.

The process of making it wasn’t too long, some time passing before he could bring it to you. He too took some time to allow it to cool down, too giving you more time to rest in the process. As he did this, he kept glancing back into the room you laid within, tinges of worry tainting his mind.

He quietly spoke your name as he nudged you awake, already having placed your soup on the bedside table for you. He made sure to be gentle with his nudges, not wishing to disrupt you poorly.

“Mm?” You hummed, voice raspy as your eyes fluttered open. “Oh…Hi.”

You were so sweet as you looked up at him, feeling awful yet still so happy to see him as you always were. It made his heart flutter with the dancing of butterflies.

He smiled, pressing his curved lips to your forehead again to read your temperature. “Still hot, I see. You should take the blanket off, i don’t want you to overheat or-”

“I’m always hot.” You tried to joke, yet it didn’t much land, for your tone was quite monotone and depressed sounding due to the physical state. “-But yes…”

You caused a slight chuckle to slip past him, and for that you were glad as he thus asked you to kindly sit up in order to eat the soup he had made for you.

You nodded, carefully and rather slowly pulling yourself up to sit with you back leaning against the headboard of your shared bed. 

“Good girl,” That smile was still on his face as he praised your efforts, causing you to blush. He didn’t mean it in any way that you may have been thinking, for it was a rather innocent praise.

He took the mug of soup from the nightstand, holding it carefully as he took the spoon, gathering some broth on it as he brought it to your lips. You had no complaints in regards to him helping you like this, so you parted your lips in return and allowed for him to ease the spoon into your mouth.

As you swallowed, it felt comfortingly warm against your throat and dry mouth, the spices dancing on your tongue as the flavours hit you like a harmonious song. 

“Thank you…” You spoke after a few more spoonfuls of soup, swallowing the liquid coating in your throat as you did so.

Luke is always so good to you, allowing for you to feel so loved and cared for. You couldn’t feel more appreciative of the man who sat before you. 

You reached a hand to him, cupping his cheek as you caressed the pink flesh with your thumb. Your touch was so gentle to him, perfectly delicate and warm due to the heat you radiated. 

“Can we cuddle, please?” You pleaded, giving him the cutest pout and puppy eyes. 

How could he say no when you asked so nicely, and needed him so much today? He was quite sure that his heart must be melting in his chest.

“Of course. It's hardly a question, you know. ” He smiled so warmly once again with a joy that felt like medicine, placing the mug on the bedside table as you scooched over for him, giving him room to lay with your back to his chest.

You worried that facing him would put him at risk of gathering your germs, therefore spooning was the safest position…yet part of you hated that very fact. Your love language is physical affection; you wanted to kiss him, to place your lips all over his rosy cheeks and soft lips, and you wanted just the same from him in return. 

He had his leg draped over your own, his face nuzzled into your hair and neck as his hand found its place upon your chest, feeling your heartbeat thump against him in a calming manner. It was peaceful to know your blood was pumping healthily through your veins, even in a state that may have left you feeling as if death was on its way. 

Though, he could indeed sense something was bothering you, a sudden riff like the waves on a calm ocean becoming disturbed. Something was on your mind.

“Star, is something wrong?”

You would feel rather silly having to explain that you’re pouting because you can’t kiss him until you get better, so you brushed it off instead. “Mmm no, just keep holding me, okay?”

He wasn’t buying it, but just nodded, pressing a kiss to your hair as he felt the disturbance once again. He was beginning to catch on, smiling to himself for the fact that you were always so needy for him, craving his affection; he adored it, truth be told. He felt so wanted and loved because of it, but make no mistake, he still wished to comfort the anguish of which he was not so very fond of in comparison.

You felt him pull away from you before slowly and gently nudging you around to face him, leaving you half laying on your back. He placed a hand on your chin, thumb running over your bottom lip as he began to question you. “Starflower, be honest with me; are you upset because you think I can't kiss you?”

You blushed, forgetting how quickly he catches onto things. “Well…but you…you know can’t- i’ll get you sick and i don’t wanna be the reason you get sick…”

“You didn’t answer my question.” His tone was both reassuring to protect you from embarrassment, while also teasing at once.

You sighed, pushing a cough down your throat as you did so. “Yes…I am- don’t laugh at me.”

He shook his head, blushing just as you were. “I'm not laughing, I promise.”

You tried to hide your face in the pillows, escaping his gaze as his grasp drifted to run through your hair soothingly. “I’m not afraid to kiss you just because of a few germs. You only have to ask me.”

“It would be selfish to get you sick, Luke.”

“And it would be selfish for me to deny you when you want me…Star, there is nothing I would hesitate to give you.”

You peered up at him again with the brightest blush, shy to give in. “Don’t blame me when you get sick then.”

His heart thumped in his chest, eyes switching between your lips and your sleepy eyes. “The padawans deserve a break for how hard they have been working, and we get to spend time together. I don’t sense a problem with this.” 

He had his right arm resting on the other side of your head as he looked down on you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. A few quiet moments passed like this, finding comfort in close proximity before you thus spoke quietly, pushing a smile from your lips. “Kiss me, please…”

“Hm? What was that, sweetheart?” He lightly teased, wishing to lighten the mood further, thinking a tad bit of silliness may ease your mind. 

“Luke…” You whined, pouting. Although, there was a part of you that would have giggled if not for being sick.

He let out a chuckle, lowering his lips onto your own as they connected, latching onto one another as if they had moulded to fit together as a perfect puzzle piece over the years. The kiss was soft, and left your lips feeling warm and tingly as his kisses always did. Even the curves of your smiles blended together smoothly, considered almost addicting.

You could feel the tug of his smile against your own throughout the entirety of the moment, so blissful even when in the company of countless germs. It was a lovely contrast, truly. That was what you loved most, the fact he could make the dark times seem like a paradise.

Reluctantly did he pull away, yet not far enough for his hot breath still danced against your skin. “See? That wasn’t so bad, star…”

You shook your head, raising your arms up to wrap around his neck. “Just wait until you get sick, maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“It’ll be worth it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, coughing along the way and yet not phasing him in the least as the germs were likely spread over him. “You’re ridiculous, Skywalker.”

“I’m only in love.”

With another cough, you spoke. “When did you get so cheesy?”

This would be one cue to say something along the lines of “when i fell in love with you”, but fortunately for you, he instead replaces such a phrase with another interlocking of lips instead. Suddenly, being sick wasn’t so bad as it once appeared…

[dailydragon08]

Far Cry - a May the Fourth fic

Pairing: None (this fic exists outside of the Remnantsverse) Summary: Finally alone after the final battle with the emperor, Vader's helmet holds secrets and a path to healing for Luke to uncover. Warnings: descriptions of canon-typical violence, Luke has PTSD and has a breakdown, characters working through trauma, mention of Luke's lost hand and lightning scars, heavy angst, some whump. A/N: Happy May the Fourth! Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated and my Remnants masterlist can be found linked in my pinned post on my blog! Enjoy!

*

Luke stared down at the sleek black helmet in his hands, hunched in his seat as if still leaning over his dying father’s body. Anakin Skywalker’s final words echoed in his head: “Tell your sister…You were right…”

Leia hadn’t wanted to hear it, as was her right. Her experience and connection to him was a far cry from Luke’s. She celebrated his death just as the rest of the rebels did. He knew she wouldn’t be so callous as to ignore Luke’s pain, but he didn’t want to bother her. She was still off spending some well-earned downtime with Han and the others. So, he sat aboard the Falcon alone, hunching over his father’s helmet that he cupped reverently in his hands. He had just finished in the refresher and looked down at the ragged scars tracing pathways all over his still bare abdomen, chest, arms, and even a little onto his neck. The scars on his right arm cut off right where the cybernetic connected, the blaster hole still laying all the wires bare for the galaxy to see. He glanced at the wires and then back at Vader’s helmet—Anakin’s helmet.

“He’s more machine now than man. Twisted and evil.”

But he wasn’t evil. At least not in the end.

He gripped the helmet tighter, falling into the familiar warmth of the Force, and suddenly vivid memories that didn’t belong to him flashed before his eyes—

He was suddenly much shorter and was following an unfamiliar man with a lightsaber strapped under his poncho through the Tatooine streets. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and looked back at the woman standing behind him, then back again to the man. He turned and raced to the woman’s side as she crouched on her knees, murmuring a soft, “Ani…”

The image faded and he now stood in unfamiliar apartments, with what looked like the Coruscant skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. A strangely familiar woman, beautiful brown hair, big doe eyes, and a wardrobe that belied a significant status stood in front of him, staring with trepidation. “Ani? My goodness, you’ve grown!”

“So have you,” he heard himself say, glancing down to hands and robes that weren’t his, Anakin’s lightsaber hanging from his belt. “Grown more beautiful I mean.” Someone cleared their throat next to him, young but bearing a striking resemblance to Obi-Wan. “For a senator, I mean!”

The woman shook her head and laughed uncomfortably. “Ani, you’ll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine.”

The image changed again to an ornately carved, covered balcony overlooking a lake at sunset. C-3PO stood on one side of him and R2-D2 on the other. The same woman now stood in front of him, holding his hands (one of them an uncovered cybernetic) and wearing an intricate lace wedding gown.

“And do you, Anakin Skywalker, take Padmé Naberrie Amidala to be your lawful wedded wife?” Threepio asked.

“I do,” he replied.

The balcony was suddenly engulfed in flames until the lake disappeared to be replaced by one of fire. The woman, Padmé, now heavily pregnant, stood in front of him again on a landing platform with her ship in the background. Tears streamed down her face as she slowly backed away. “You’re going down a path I can’t follow.” She moved back towards him, cupping his face in her hands as he glanced behind her to see who he now knew as Obi-wan standing at the top of the boarding ramp. “Come back! I love you!”

“LIAR!” He moved away. “You’re with him! You brought him here to kill me!” He reached out and began to Force-choke Padmé as she tried to resist, gasping and gagging as she clawed at her throat.

“Let her go, Anakin!” Obi-wan cried as he descended the ramp.

“Ani—” Padmé tried to gasp out.

“Let. Her. Go.”

He did as bade and Padmé gasped and fell to the ground with a loud thud.

The image warped once more, and now he was looking through half of the familiar mask in his hands, the other half slashed clean off by a lightsaber. A desperate and devastated Obi-Wan stood in front of him, the red and blue lightsabers casting eerie glows on their faces in the night.

Tears filled Obi-wan’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry, Anakin. For all of it.”

He struggled to speak through his damaged helmet, his voice going back and forth between his own and the twisted version the mask produced. “I am not your failure, Obi-wan…” He lowered his head and looked up at his opponent through half-burned lashes. “You didn’t kill Anakin Skywalker…” He smiled cruelly. “I did.”

More images flashed almost too quickly to comprehend: hacking down hopeless opponents with his lightsaber, crushing their necks with the Force after pinning them to the ceiling; cutting off Luke’s hand on Bespin; in the shadows of a building’s column, grinning ear to ear after Padmé told him she was pregnant; caressing her belly in the Coruscant apartments discussing baby names; graphic nightmares of Padmé dying in childbirth; Emperor Palpatine, his face free of deformity, insisting that the Jedi Council didn’t trust Anakin; facing the Council and several masters denying him the rank of master, even after being a decorated Clone Wars hero and training Ahsoka from padawan to what should’ve been Jedi Knight before they betrayed her and through her, him; Obi-wan’s smiling face telling him, “you are strong and wise, Anakin, and I am very proud of you…Goodbye, my friend…” having no idea it would be their final goodbye as two fellow jedi; having a picnic with Padmé in a grassy field, a waterfall in the background, then rolling around on the ground together laughing; picking up the emperor as he tortured Luke and throwing him down the shaft of his own throne room, electricity crackling through his suit and rendering it useless, the oxygen no longer coming—

Luke opened his eyes, gasping as if he’d been underwater and sat up quickly. He jumped as he banged his head on the bunk above him, rubbing it with his hand while keeping a tight grip on the helmet with the other. He sank forward again, bringing the helmet up and pressing his own forehead against it. He let the tears flow freely; after his ordeal tonight, he didn’t have the energy to sob or even let his body shake—the tears just spilled down his face in torrents.

Padmé. His mother’s name was Padmé. And Leia looked exactly like her. And Anakin loved her with everything he had, but the slow corruption of Palpatine, the war, the failings of the council, and the nightmares of losing her—which could’ve likely come from Palpatine as much as just fear and stress—had twisted his mind and warped him into someone unrecognizable. That is, until Luke came along. From Anakin’s memories, he could see that Obi-wan cut one side of his mask off and in a duel, Ahsoka cut off the other. But only Luke could remove the full mask. Only he could unmask Vader and return Anakin Skywalker to the land of the living specifically because of his connection and attachment to him. Only he could succeed.

There were no visuals this time, but he heard a young Obi-Wan’s voice in his head as clearly as if he were standing next to him: Padmé…Anakin has turned to the dark side…

What? No! You’re wrong! How could you even say that?!

I saw a security hologram of him…killing younglings…

Not Anakin! He couldn’t!

Now Padmé’s voice struggling through her final words: There’s good in him…I know—there’s—still—” followed by the wail of a baby.

Now Anakin’s voice one last time: You were right about me…Tell your sister…you were right…

He looked up to see the ghost of Anakin Skywalker in his prime standing in front of him. Tears obscured Luke’s vision but even through them, he was startled to see how alike they looked. Anakin smiled sadly before reaching over to wipe Luke’s tears. Luke jumped when he could feel real, warm, flesh on his face, Leia’s voice suddenly crying out his name.

Anakin’s visage vanished into smoke to be replaced by his sister standing there, a worried look on her face as she wiped away a tear with her thumb. Luke stared at her bug-eyed for a moment, grasping her hand to make sure she was real. She glanced down at the helmet in his hands, her face twisting in disgust. She looked around the bunk, grabbed Luke’s discarded and fried black jacket where it lay on the mattress next to him, and wrapped the helmet up in it like a dead animal before throwing it all onto the adjoining bed.

“Luke, it’s all right,” she murmured, stepping between his legs to hug his shoulders.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his face sink into her shoulder as she massaged the back of his head. He finally let his body shake and sniffled, gripping the back of her dress in his fists as if she might disappear. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them stood like that, but eventually, his sobs subsided and he sat there, still in her arms, gasping for air like a drowning man. Leia didn’t push or rush him, just continued to stand there, her cheek leaning against his hair as her nails gently scraped at the back of his head.

Finally, he heaved a shaky breath. “You’re my sister.”

“And you’re my brother,” she replied.

“But you’re not a Skywalker.”

He felt her tense. “…No.” She paused, taking the hand that was massaging his head and wrapping it around his shoulders. “But you’re my family. And I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

Luke nodded before slowly leaning back, keeping a soft grip around her waist. Leia glanced at the lightning scars littering his torso sadly, her hands sliding down his biceps just as his hands slid to hold her forearms. They gave each other a gentle squeeze before she tilted his forehead against his.

“It’s over,” she said quietly. “Just breathe.”

They took a deep breath in sync, and on the exhale, he wanted to tell her how there was still good in Anakin at the end. But he knew she still wouldn’t want to hear it, and that was her prerogative. With her experiences, he couldn’t say he blamed her. It would just have to be something he held onto himself until she was ready—if she was ever ready. And if she never was, he would make peace with that.

Leia finally broke the silence by nodding towards his charred cybernetic. “Want me to arrange for that to be fixed?”

Luke sat up straight, taking another deep breath, this time steadier and easier. “No. I think I’m about to be too busy anyway. I do have a new order to create, after all.” And although he couldn’t see him, he could sense his father’s presence in the room and the slow curve of a proud smile on his lips.

~~~~

Taglist (please let me know via comment or DM if you'd like to be added): @kaleidoscope1967eyes @masterlukessaber @lxstfathier @rogue-kenobi @sonofthedunes @pomplalamoose @lex-the-flex @myevilmouse @goddessesofeverything @acupnoodle

[blackcatwithatinyhat]

me loving star wars? nope, don’t know what you mean couldn‘t be me

[totallynotobsessedwithfandoms]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Background Leia Organa/Han Solo Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, R2-D2 (Star Wars), C-3PO (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Ahsoka Tano-centric, Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker, Force Ghost Obi-Wan Kenobi, Family Reunions, Kind Of, Is it a family reunion if they're only meeting for the first time?, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, comfy-vember 2024, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Post Original Trilogy Series: Part 10 of comfy-vember prompts Summary:

@comfy-vember on Tumblr's day ten prompt: overcoming fear

Ahsoka Tano meets Luke and Leia.

[musewrangler]

When was the last time she’d been able to just stand still and appreciate the beauty of nature?

“Ma’am?”

She turned her head to see the young Lieutenant from earlier standing at a respectful distance—-the light of a pale blue nebula reflecting off his lean features.

“Do you need anything?” the boy asked her.

She smiled.

“No, thank you. Just…enjoying the view.”

He turned to look at it himself, hands clasped behind his back.

“It is not something I ever tire of,” he agreed. “I just wondered, ma’am, if you needed rest. Most of the others are sleeping.” He gestured back toward the lift which led to the passenger berths several decks down.

“Mm.” Shmi pressed her fingers to the viewport, appreciating the coolness on her skin. “I did rest, thank you. What of you Lieutenant…?”

“Piett,” he answered, holding out a hand. She shook it, appreciating the firm grip. “I’ll get some kip soon, thank you.”

[fanfictasia]

The Sith Strikes Back Chapter 14-Day Seven:Revenge of the Sith, a star wars fanfic | FanFiction

The Sith Strikes Back - Chapter 14 - Day Seven: Revenge of the Sith (returning to TESB) - Wattpad

[musewrangler]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64968820/chapters/167021098

A BEACON IN THE DARK

Chapter One

Shmi Skywalker was sold before Anakin returned to Tatooine. Several years later, she was kidnapped by slavers and despaired of ever being free. Happily, the Axxilan Anti-Pirate Fleet intervened, rescuing Shmi and many others. A lonely young officer and a woman who believes herself alone in the galaxy strike up an unlikely friendship which deepens over the years-- until that shattering day when Shmi discovers she wasn't as alone as she thought.

[fanfictasia]

Whumpcember Day 18

Chronic Pain

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Never Walk Alone

 “Your… injuries must be treated,” Vader says, opting to change the topic entirely.

“What about yours?” Luke objects, “You’re hurt worse than me.”

“It is of little consequence,” he brushes it off. He’s used to it. It’s fine. “There are matters I must attend to right now.” Like actually trying to find a way to track down Obi-Wan in the first place, when they don’t have any leads on where the rebels are right now. (It would help, if it was something he actually wanted to do. Not that so many of the things he does are. But his wants are immaterial. They always have been.)

“That are more important than recovering?” Luke demands, dubiously.

Vader can’t remember the last time someone asked him something like that. Probably, it was Kix, years and years ago when he was getting tired of Anakin never resting, no matter how injured he was. “Yes.”

“I don’t see what could be,” he says, a little sullenly.

“The galaxy is at war, Luke.” And that chaos is something he does intend to bring to an end.

“Fine,” Luke huffs, still scowling fiercely, “I can go first only if you’re actually going to treat it after that, regardless of whatever important matters you need to deal with.” He doesn’t really know how to feel about someone… acting like this towards him. It’s been so long he no longer remembers what it was like. But he doesn’t want Luke to worry about him needlessly, no matter how used to the constant pain he is. “Very well,” he concedes, finally. He’ll do as Luke asks, if it’s still an option by then.

[sunshinechildskywalker]

Hat for Wormie

Hi, friends! Here's some Post-ROTJ AU Luke & Vader hurt/comfort; I found this buried in my Google Docs and thought I'd brush it up and post since it's been a while! This will also be up on Ao3 shortly

I hope I give you some good feels! :)

“Is this for me?” Luke asked as he tentatively reached his hand into the tube-like package and pulled out a chrome cylinder. Luke’s father did not even spare the package a glance, his interest focused solely on his scrolling through his datapad. 

“It must be, young one. My name is not officially listed under this residence.” Luke turned the mysterious object over in his hands, scrutinizing it. The light glinted off the chrome in such a manufactured style. 

“It looks like it's from Coruscant,” Luke observed as he continued examining it. 

“Perhaps if you open it instead of toying with it, you may discover an answer,” his father jested, Luke being the only one to recognize any humor through the vocoder. His lips tugged up in a small smile. 

“Well, here goes.” After a brief second of struggling with the lid, Luke popped open the package to reveal rolled cloth of some kind. He upturned the cylinder to dump the contents into his hand. Luke’s eyebrows furrowed as he set down the package and unfolded the dingy, forest-green article. 

But as soon as he laid eyes on the all too familiar goggles attached to this mystery material, the mystery was immediately solved. 

His hat. 

Luke hurriedly unfolded it to confirm. Yes, this was it, the hat he had worn on Tatooine all those years ago. With all the time he’d worn this hat and milestones he’d met with it resting on his head, it was practically a symbol of his childhood. 

As he turned it over, he spotted a note tucked neatly inside the brim. 

Hey wormie,

Found this the other day, thought you might want it back. Geez, it's only been four years since you lent it to me. Thanks, your aunt can stitch like hell.  

-K

Aunt Beru- she had dwelled in Luke’s thoughts for longer than he'd like to admit, but he’d omitted this particular detail from his father. He didn't need to worry him unnecessarily, he could deal with his emotions on his own, especially in the case in which his father was partially to blame for the deaths of his aunt and uncle. This would only add more guilt upon his father's shoulders than already residing there, the last thing Luke wanted to take part in. 

Luke was almost scared to look inside the hat to see if it was true, to confirm that this wasn't just a mistaken delivery, but sure enough, the stitching was all hers. Luke ran his thumb over the intertwined thread of the stiching, feeling almost as if he were running his thumb over her dainty hand again. How he longed to be with her, just once more. Just a squeeze of hands one last time, just a hand running through his shaggy, sun-kissed hair once mo-

“Luke?” The young man was startled back into reality, but didn't bring his eyes up to his father who was now looking solely at him, nor move his fingers from the stitching. The thread against his skin was becoming soothing, almost as if she were here comforting him now. 

“Luke?” his father’s tone grew tentative, seeming to sense Luke’s rising emotion. 

Luke cleared his throat, realizing it had constricted to be incredibly tight. He could hardly swallow, let alone produce clear sound. 

“My hat,” he managed, shocked at how hoarse his voice had grown. He couldn’t take his eyes off this hat, the one he reluctantly accepted from his aunt while he imagined the comments his friends would make, but tried to hide his feelings so as not to hurt hers. 

“This...hat?” his father asked as he approached carefully, clearly unsure how to probe. Luke nodded, his eyes never leaving the stitching. 

“Aunt Beru made it for me,” Luke whispered, failing at his attempt to send the lump in his throat back down. Luke’s father, still woefully unaccustomed to responding to these kinds of emotions, set an unsure hand on his son’s shoulder. 

“Luke…” His tentative response was interrupted by an abrupt sob; Luke’s walls had started to tumble, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His head dangled forward as his expression crumpled, tears beginning their escape quickly. 

His father froze, his hand immediately jolting back as he seemed to believe he caused Luke harm and cued his crying. As Luke’s shoulders shook with the series of sobs and tears that followed, his father carefully replaced his hand on his shoulder to steady him. Luke clutched the hat so incredibly close to his chest, bringing it as close to his being as possible 

“Son,” his father tried to comfort as he tentatively patted Luke’s shoulder. Although Luke tried to stifle them, his sobs grew even louder, the noise sounding foreign to himself as it echoed off the walls. 

Just as his father settled his hand on Luke’s shoulder and tried to pull him in close, Luke turned towards his father and nestled himself into his chest. He sniffled hard, and his father set a hand on Luke’s back. 

“Child,” his father said softly. “You are upset about your guardians?” Luke nodded against his armored chest. 

“I...I’m so happy to...be here with...with you,” Luke managed as he tried to catch his breath. “But, I….I miss them…so much.” His father ran a careful hand up and down Luke’s back, sighing in a dark shade of regret. 

“I know, child.” Luke couldn’t help but sniffle hard again, more sobs tumbling out of his throat. “You have not allowed yourself to grieve properly, have you?” After a long moment of hesitance, Luke shook his head. 

“I can’t,” he admitted, then sighed. “It’s all my fault, anyway. I should have been home.”

“Now that is a false statement,” his father argued. “Those were my troops’ actions. If you must assign blame, I am the one who most deserves it.” Luke shook his head, pressing harder into his father’s chest, but still wasn’t convinced he didn’t contribute to their deaths.

“I just…” Luke began, but sighed as he felt the words die on his tongue, feeling like they weren’t worth putting out into the galaxy.

“Just what, son?” his father asked. Luke felt his throat tighten once again, but finally managed to articulate his thoughts.

“I just wonder what she would think of me now,” he choked out. “After everything I’ve done.” His father paused, but continued to run a tentative hand up and down Luke’s back.

“I did not know Beru well, but I do know any parental figure of yours would think nothing less of you, Luke,” his father said. Luke’s father held him just a little tighter. “You did what you must. We all did.”

[emotionyetpeace]

Breaking Out

Rating: T

Pairing: Gen

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: After Luke is captured, he has an unexpected rescuer. Written for Whumptober 2022.

Read on AO3

[musewrangler]

“Here, duck in here!” he told her, guiding her as carefully as he could while they ran.

Padme panted and groaned, holding her large stomach with the other hand as they ducked under the heavy stone into a small cave.

The best that could be said about it was that it was dry. There was no other comfort but stone and dirt here.

But that was apparently all she would have to welcome her babies with.

“Firmus—-” she began, just as another contraction hit and she doubled in agony. “Hguhhhn!”

“What can I do?” he asked urgently. “I’m so sorry, Padme. Tell me what I can do to help you best.”

She scanned the small interior and pointed to the flattest place she could see.

“There. Help me sit. And…” she paused to breathe, “...I need something other than dirt beneath me for the babies.”

[fanfictasia]

Remnants of Darkness - Chapter 5 - Construction - Wattpad

Remnants of Darkness Chapter 5 - Construction, a star wars fanfic | FanFiction

[mrskywalkers-chanelboots]

currently at the er waiting for some camp friends and now i’m wondering if an emergency room trip should made it into the fic because honestly that’s part of summer camp babeyyyyy

AND THEN I CAN ADD HURT/COMFORT