#hurt luke skywalker

[storyweaverofgondor]

Summary: Emperor Palpatine decides it is too great a risk to try and recruit Luke and attempts to dispose of him.

My second BTHB fic is done! :D

[aestheticforzoe]

:‘)

Bonus:

[poltoreveur]

No, I don't want a light sprinkle of angst, I want an emotional hurricane. I want the type of angst that shakes the very foundation of my being, the kind that makes my heart ache so deeply, I'm not sure I'll ever recover. I want it to tear me apart and put me back together, over and over again, until I feel like I've aged a lifetime in just one conversation. Bring on the pain, the tears, the gut-wrenching, soul-crushing angst.

[musewrangler]

Anyone else absolutely WRECKED by the echo of Princess Leia’s theme at the end of Kenobi? When he says good bye to her? And they won’t see each other again until he dies for her? Just me?

And RIGHT FROM THERE we segway to Luke’s theme and Obi wan gives him the toy ship…

Say what you will about the show (I loved it) the soundtrack was FIRE.

[noramsblog]

Reckless

[lavandula-ipsum]

The rain will hide us

gif by @tatooineknights

Summary: Stranded on an unkown planet, you've fallen sick. Thankfully, Luke is there with you. However, you might not be the only one in need of care.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Tags: Luke Skywalker x GN!Reader, force sensitive reader, comfort, fluff, mentions of injuries, one-shot. Angst somehow got in.

The paleness of the morning starts to filtrate through the tent, drawing the dark little spots left by quiet raindrops. Their clatter serves as a gentle wake up call while, outside, an unexplored jungle sleeps.

“How are you feeling?” Before you can even shift in your sleeping bag, Luke has already turned his attention to you, lying a kind hand on your shoulder. For a second, you miss the times when you could have just watched him for a couple of minutes before choosing to signal that you’re awake.

Truth is you feel like shit. A trash compactor could have chewed and spit you out while you were unconscious for all you know. At the effort of answering his question, a raspy whine leaves your sore throat. “Better.”

He’s sitting next to you, not very convinced. There’s urgency tingling the tips of his fingers, you can feel it through the Force. “Is it okay if I check?”

An almost imperceptible shivery note haunts his voice. In the dark circles under his eyes you can sense a long and rough night. You nod. Even though you can feel the last remnants of sickness haven't completely faded from your exhausted body, the back of his hand is warm against your burning cheek and forehead. With an alleviated sigh, Luke finally lets his hand slide down your arm.

“You still have a fever, but it isn’t as high anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Do you remember the crash?”

“A little. I remember the battle, the evacuation when the ship went down.” The mission you embarked on seems to have failed spectacularly. You try to sweep away the thoughts of your fallen comrades, at least till you get back and get to know for sure how many of them are actually gone. “We got into the same escape pod and… this atmosphere messed with the navigation systems, I guess.” You grumble, rubbing the side of your head. “Why don’t I remember much after that?”

“You were trapped in the wreckage for a few minutes. I couldn’t take you out earlier. (Y/N), I’m so sorry. You got some cuts and superficial burns. Perhaps a broken rib.” Oh, so that’s what the bandages are for. And probably why you’ve been stripped down to your standard issue underwear. Suddenly, Luke avoids your gaze and an uncomfortable ripple flutters through the Force, but you’re too distracted frowning at the new scratch across his cheek.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. But you… You were feverish the whole night.” He continues, bringing the med kit closer to show you a box of painkillers, an empty stim canister, an open tube of pomade, anxious to let you know everything he gave you while you were unconscious.

“It’s ok.” You set your hand over his to stop his nervous tinkering through the med kit. “I trust you, Luke. How many times have we done this? Tell me, what happened next?”

He licks his lips, then looks down at his hands. “You became really sick.”

“I’m sorry. I must have scared you. This is all my fault.” You groan before he can start giving you a thousand reasons why it isn’t. “It really is. I knew I was already sick before the mission. It was just a cold two days ago, but I guess it made me more vulnerable to whatever I caught here.”

Luke shifts closer to you, suddenly alarmed. “Why did you come to this mission then? Why didn’t you say anything?”

You remember those agonizing moments when he didn’t show up at the rendezvous point after the battle of Hoth, gone to Force knows where, while you were left alone wondering if he’d been killed. Turns out he’d just left on his own. It’s not as if he owed you any explanation, you were merely friends. He's fated to go out there and do things so far greater than anything having to do with you. So you tried to slap yourself out of this silly anxiety. After all, the others were gone with the Falcon too, and you had to resign yourself to the faith that they'd be alright. 

And then Luke came back, his body battered and his spirit broken worse than you’d ever seen before or since.

Shyly, you slide your fingers out of your cover. He quickly holds them in between his palms. You’re sure the sky outside the tent would pale in comparison with the intensity of his tired gaze right now, glassy and blue. And yet, all you manage to conjure in response is a lie.

“I wanted to feel useful. The Rebellion needs all the hands it can get.” 

If he realizes, he doesn’t say anything. He just leans in to warm your cold hand with his breath. Luke might not be a full Jedi just yet, but he can probably sense how tired you are of this game of claiming guilt for everything, of just rambling around the edges of what neither of you feel brave enough to say. He just knows you that inescapably well.

For now, the tent has become quiet, so quiet you can even hear him swallow. After a second of allowing yourself to stare at the muscles of his neck tense up and relax with the motion, you look down and sink your flaming face into the sleeping bag.

Against his advice, you sit up. The chill bites your exposed skin, setting a feverish tremor within your chest. However, you don’t let him make you settle back into the bedding.

“Can I say something without it turning into another exchange of apologies?” you ask. Noticing your sudden eagerness, he nods. However, his hands remain close, as if you were about to collapse. “Thank you for saving my life. Truly.”

He seems about to reply with some excuse, probably minimizing himself once again, but you raise a warning finger along with a threatening expression. It makes him laugh, brighter than he’s laughed in months. It lasts too little for your taste, but at least the smile lingers on his face.

“Ok, you win this one. Now, that pomade needs to be reapplied.”

After taking a panicked second to realize what he’s asking, you turn slightly so he can get better access to the burn, which covers the back of your shoulder and part of your right arm. Luke scooches closer till you’re basically sitting between his legs. You wonder if he notices his warmth setting you aflame, but he seems too busy readying the ointment to even look at you, his eyes half hidden under soft locks of weathered gold. However, a loaded silence falls in the tent, during which you feel the urge to cover your front with the sleeping bag. 

“It’s gonna feel a little cold,” he warns before touching you, his voice barely audible.

You had already made up your mind to behave and not show any sign of discomfort, but you need to turn away to hide your face. Honestly, you’re not sure if it’s the painkillers or the surreal ambience around you, but you swear you’ve never been treated by gentler hands. As they work to spread the medicine, you hold yourself together barely enough to not just let go and plop yourself on his lap. You feel beyond beaten, and over your head a thick cloud keeps your judgment in a state of relaxed lethargy. Truth is his welcoming stance, along with the way his fingers caress your tender skin as he softly talks you through the process, isn’t helping your already lazy resolve.  

“I’m so glad, it doesn’t seem like it got infected. I think there’s a chance it won’t leave a scar once we can get you proper treatment back in the fleet.”

You hum half heartedly in response, doing your best to join in the effort to evade the silence instead of entertaining the thought that you don’t actually want to go back. Because he wouldn’t be with you then. Luke has been avoiding the fleet since Bespin, and you've made up your mind to follow him for as long as he wants you around.

“Have you been awake the whole night? Meditating?”

“Not meditating. Standing guard.”

When he finishes up your new bandages, you hear the rustling of knots coming undone and, right after, you’re covered with Luke’s outer robe. Apparently, your top had to be cut off your body when he first tended to your wounds. As he helps drape the garment around your shoulders and slide your arms into the sleeves careful to not graze your wounds, the warmth it still bears surrounds you. Ah, it smells like him too. 

Luke seems ready to offer an excuse to quiet your concerns over his lack of sleep, but it fizzles out before your demanding frown. A pained flare crosses behind his eyes as his Force signature heats up around you. He doesn’t mean to leave you out of his thoughts, he truly doesn’t. It’s just that lately they’ve been a mess not even he has felt ready to untangle. And, if he’s not ready to talk, you won’t push him. However, this silence is a little needle to your heart, and the jab reaches him when it becomes too painful for you to hide.

“I tried to meditate until I had to give up. I couldn’t find the peace for it. You were trembling and twisting in your sleep, burning with fever… mumbling things.”

“Were they embarrassing?” you joke, trying to lift the mood a little. However, instead of following you down that path, you feel a little tug. He’s lightly pulling at the edge of your sleeve, well, his.

“Don’t leave me. Please, stay.”

The pressure around your wrist makes it sound like an apology. Why? For letting you fall sick? For leaving you behind and going to Dagobah on his own? You’re getting tired of riddles, and you’re already trembling from the effort of sitting up straight. Your hand lands on his shoulder, a gesture that seems to finally break him out of his spiraling thoughts and look at you.

“And you did. You stayed.”

An exhalation later, you’re buried in his chest. It’s hard to tell who initiated the hug when you’re enthralled by how melting into each other makes everything else melt away. Luke’s hands travel down your hair, and you wonder when taking in this soothing became as easy as breathing. Well, not exactly. There needs to be a spell, a certain quietness to the air like the one flooding the tent right now. Melancholy is usually the trigger, the signature to the wordless contract between the two of you that grants you permission to indulge in this kind of comfort. Later you’d usually dream awake about it, lost in the memory of what feels forbidden during the daylight. It aches a little that at least one of you needs to be in some kind of pain to feel allowed this kind of intimacy. 

A sigh brushes against your ear as Luke barely dares to talk in a whisper. “What if I can’t do this?” 

“Don’t worry, the Rebellion knows we’re here, we’ll be out of here in no time…”

“Not that. It’s about-” The words get lost as they’re spilled from his lips. Luke lets out a shaky breath before sinking deeper into your hair. “Everything.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“You always do.” 

“And listen, I truly believe there’s a special path ahead of you. A bright one. However, no matter what happens, even if things go wrong, I’ll be here. I mean- we all will. We’ll love you all the same.”

You nuzzle up closer against him, prompting a pleased sigh out of him. 

“I’ve been leaning on you too much.”

You chuckle, “how so? You just saved me in, like, five different ways just during the last twelve hours.”

“What you do is way more difficult.”

A hand cradles your head close to his chest, while his other arm surrounds you. And, as the silence settles once again, you finally feel him relax around you as your hands travel up his back. Through his thin inner tunic, the heartbeat pressed against your cheek allows itself to slow down a little. 

“You take a nap now. I’ll keep watch.”

“You’re hurt,” he complains. “And sick.”

“I’ll have a blaster at hand and wake you up as soon as I hear anything outside, I swear.” You hush him before he can complain. “Do I need you to remind you of your instruction, commander? If you don’t rest you’ll compromise the mission.”

“And what mission is that?”

“Get back to base, safe and sound. And stick together until then.”

Luke brushes your cheek with his thumb, as if to check again if your fever has gone down enough to leave the task to you. “Yeah, I might be able to do that.”

So you get back in the sleeping bag so as to not get cold, and he lays down over it next to you. He does so a bit skittish at first, so you interlock his fingers with yours and guide him down to the most comfortable spot, next to you. Soon, exhaustion defeats any remaining fear and Luke feels brave enough to wrap an arm around you. Soon, sleep has taken him.With your heart coming to a halt, you finally dare to take in his features. Even though a shadow of worry still darkens his brow, his features look softer than you’ve seen lately. It takes you back to those early days in the Rebellion when you weren’t nearly as close, but talking seemed easier. So you stay awake, treasuring every deep breath and the faint rainfall in the background, until the distant buzz of the Millennium Falcon fades the spell away.

link to the source gifset

[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…

[andraedevane]

Love how some villains say to the hero "I want to destroy/kill you" (or at least think about hurting the hero) and then when they are redeemed they say (or think) "If anyone dared to hurt you, I will destroy/kill them"

[mrskywalkers-chanelboots]

are you normal or do dinluke hurt/comfort fics make your chest physically hurt and long for love

[softieskywalker]

sometimes when reading/writing whump luke fics i think maybe we're going too far but then i remember he gets dismembered and tortured with lightning in canon so nah that's fine keep frying the twink

[pridoo]

Strange BDE on this Din ornament I found in Rome this week

[blackcatwithatinyhat]

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

[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.”

[thewriterowl]

do you think baby luke cried when owen made him shoot womprats that were getting into the farm?

100% did. Like he cried often the first few times. Then, Owen took his hand and led him over to some stones to sit on, sharing some chilled bantha-milk that are normally stored for special holidays and occasions, and spoke to him;

"Kid, I don't want you to ever think you need to apologize for crying over taking a life. From these vermin to the dragons in the dunes to, well, anything else this blasted scorched earth may make you do. We kill to survive here and, cause of that, we know the value of life better than many of those in the spoiled core worlds. Kill when you have to. The rats come close? Send warnings. As long as they don't destroy us, we won't destroy them. But they're smart enough...when they pass that line, you gotta make a call. And you will need to learn to live with that--cause your aunt and I want you to survive."

Owen talks to him about the beauty and ugliness of life, of survival, and how these things maybe should haunt a person, to ensure they still whatever truly is a soul, but that making a choice to protect isn't something to underestimate and can be the hardest moment, where you may falter for a second or maybe it doesn't hit you until later what you did, in your life.

I for sure think Luke as an child, maybe into his teens, felt so much guilt killing these creatures who are surviving on a planet ruined long ago by people like him.

I also think, later in the night, after the celebrations have ended and he realizes how heavy the medal is in his hand as the echos of that explosion rang through his eyes, that, though the right thing, his uncle was correct in how choosing to protect, and the consequences of such, can be delayed.

[lavandula-ipsum]

Chrysalis | Unclean (ch. 1/2)

Luke Skywalker x Reader | angst, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy, descriptions of injuries | 1.5k words

Summary: After (Y/N) was captured, she was abandoned for unending days in hell. Only one sign indicated that she was still alive, the name she kept calling through the Force, even after she lost all hope. Luke.

For him, this has been all his fault. He should have been there.

Now his dearest friend is back to safety, sitting in the water, her spirit beaten and distorted. “Can’t get out yet. I’m not clean enough,” she insists. Luke does his best to swallow his anger. All he can do now is stay by her side.

Link to AO3 | pt. 2

With the currents of the Force feeling elusive to his grasp, Luke can’t concentrate. Too many accusations reverberate in the air. With a sigh, he pushes all distractions aside in order to see them better and represses a displeased sigh when he finds that they come from within himself. It’s the same old voices that he’s trained to push away when they come wailing bitter memories of failure. But they’re louder this time as he contemplates how they make his fists tremble on his lap no matter how hard he struggles with his wrath. But he must drown it. What they’re asking is not wise, it will not fix what’s broken. 

It won’t heal her pain. It won’t bring her peace.

There’s no changing the past, but all the chances he’s missed in the last few hours, the consequences of arriving too late when he was needed most… 

Also there’s no way he could focus on meditation with Han shuffling through their bags, his usual avoidance mixing with the dread already floating in the room with an accentuated need for a distraction.

“What are you doing?”

“Finally, thanks for stepping out of your trance, kid.” Solo signals to the bathroom door with a reluctant grimace on his face. “Does she have a change of clothes?”

Luke takes a few seconds to answer. It's true that the girls’ bag got left behind in the chaos. Barely a few days ago, (Y/N) had shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal. We’re supposed to be back soon, aren’t we? Little did she know about the gruesome end this mission would have. That she’d be captured

“Where’s Leia?”

“She helped (Y/N) earlier, I think, then left her soaking. She’s gone down with Lando and Chewie to try get us a passage out of this ball of mud now.” He scoffs at his friend’s sudden furrowed brow. “Don’t blame her, she said (Y/N) insisted on being left alone.”

The young Jedi’s attention is now directed towards the adjacent room, where the girl’s aura vibrates almost imperceptibly. He’s only ever sensed her this quiet when she’s sedated. However, she hasn’t slept yet. All offerings of tranquilizers were turned away, insisting that all she needed was to wash off the grime.

“Threepio?”

“They needed him, so he also went.” Han grunts, passing a hand over his face. “Look, kid, I know this isn't the best moment. But I don't wanna go and spook her. Do you have anything?” 

Take charge , he’s begging. The young Jedi swallows and starts rummaging through the few things he's brought. “Not much, a clean shirt.” 

Behind him, Artoo chirps some sassy remark he can’t answer but with an annoyed grimace. While Han keeps looking through his own things, Luke gazes down to a clean change of underwear and hopes (Y/N) won't get offended when he offers it to her. He’s then again forced out of his thoughts when the ex smuggler hands him a pair of pants.

“These are Lando’s.” 

“Yep. They're nicer. And he has to spare.”

“And you don’t? Gross.”

“Who are you to talk, you monk?”

“I wash my clothes,” Luke complains, raising an eyebrow. Han throws the pile of clothes they’ve gathered to his face, causing the astrodroid to beep in amusement. 

After rolling his eyes, Luke signals the droid to wait for him in the room while he steps into the dark corridor. 

“Hey kid, I’m heading down to the lobby to keep watch of things, ok?”

“Alright. Thank you, Han.”

The ex-smuggler barely looks at him, but he squeezes his shoulder warmly when passing by him on his way to the door. Once he’s alone again, Luke finds himself standing in front of the closed door to the bathroom, his hand hovering over the handle. The cold ghost of everything that went down mere hours before stops him from touching it. (Y/N)’s face, covered in dirt and dried blood while she looked up at him with pure terror, blinded by the light, unable to tell friends from enemies after days in the freezing dark.

His dear friend, his trusted training partner, was abandoned for unending days in the middle of hell while he couldn’t do anything other than keep looking tirelessly, her faintly calling his name through the Force the only sign that she was still even breathing. 

He wasn’t fast enough.

Luke knocks softly on the door, still feeling guilty for breaching her intimacy. The last thing he wants right now is making her feel unsafe.

“I don’t mean to interrupt. I… I brought you some clothes.”

No response is given.

“(Y/N)?” he calls, getting no answer once again. “Is everything alright?” 

Now that he thinks of it, how much time has she spent in there alone since Leia left? Way too long for someone in her state, weakened both physically and mentally. His fingers itch on the handle. What if she’s fallen ill? What if she passed out? What if she slipped? 

No, he must get his shit together. If something happened he would’ve sensed it. Right?

Only there are so many terrible things he’s missed recently, things that have hurt her. The silence makes his voice tremble. “I’m coming in, ok?”

The warm humidity inside immediately envelops him. Luke quickly steps to the bathtub hidden behind the plastifoil curtain and, just as his fingers graze it, the water stirs on the other side.

“I'm fine,” (Y/N)’s voice sounds faint and coarse but, with the possible image he could’ve found of her inert under the water still thundering in his brain, it’s the most precious sound he’s ever heard. “I just fell asleep.”

“That's dangerous.”

“It's just a bit of water.”

That's more water than he ever saw together before leaving Tatooine, worth a fortune. He remains standing there holding to the bundle of clothes, regretting his scolding tone. Through the Force, a weak shiver reaches him originating from the woman, making him realize he should probably close the door to keep the heat in.

“I’ll leave these here-” However, a tiny voice, or more like an emotion, echoes in his mind without a sound, ringing faintly in the Force. 

Please, don’t leave me , it seems to plead. 

Luke swallows thickly. “Can I do anything else for you?”

The water moves once again, and he can picture her fidgeting with her fingers. The ring she usually fiddles with rests next to the sink, however.  “Can’t get out yet. I’m not clean enough.”

The effort to articulate those few raspy words weigh heavy on her mind and body, so he probably shouldn’t push her for more explanations. Instead, Luke gently reaches out to her Force signature. His stomach turns at the fragile nature of her aura at the moment, at witnessing the brittle, paper thin ruins that remain where her strong mental shields once stood, revealing the vulnerable heart beneath. It shakes, too beaten up to cry. This is wrong, so fundamentally distorted.

And it is his fault. He should have been there. The men that got to her know nothing, nothing of what they had in their hands. They are nothing. Just the last pitiful death rattles of the Empire. It would be so easy to wipe them out alongside the rotting legacy of their filthy lives. If he goes after them on his own, hiding in the shadows, they would never see him coming. That dark tingling gathers once again around his fingers, urging him to pick up his weapon and making those imps regret ever laying a finger on her. He desires to hurt like she’s been hurt, like the whole galaxy has been hurt. To pierce the darkness responsible for this with his blade, to crack and tear those men from the inside out until there’s nothing left of them.

However, her quiet, wheezy breathing snaps him out of it. It reminds him to cast away the scarlet flare of wrath and slowly bring himself back into focus. Those thoughts are little more than delusions. It wouldn’t be wise, it wouldn’t be fair, after all that’s been discussed about how to rebuild the galaxy from the ashes left by the Empire, all the hard work Leia and so many others have put into this; after he himself, alongside (Y/N), insisted on how important it was for the leaders of the imperial remnants to be brought to justice, if he went and gutted them in the dark because of anger. There’s too much anger out there already, and he’s tired of its bitter taste in his mouth.

It takes the Jedi a bit of struggle to reconcile that what’s needed of him right now is to listen to the helpless plea coming from the water and stay . So Luke sucks up a sob himself and sits on the tiled floor, with his back against the bathtub and his head resting between his knees as he gently retreats from her mind, so bare and open at the moment, and remains close to her tiny aura in the Force.

[genyasglockk]

din got taken as prisoner and if this were a dinluke fic, grogu would be frantically reaching out to luke and calling for help. and luke would come without question bc he'll jump at any chance to do good (and he'll do anything to see grogu and his father again)