dazaih

[dazaih]

hi yes i will! :) i have a couple of shorter series written and ready to go for after wingman is finished lol

are u gonna write more series for luke after wingman has ended? i love your writing sm

@dazaih I think I got your mail lol.

(Also, I agree, more luke pls) (AND i, too, love their writing hehe)

[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.

[dazaih]

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can find the previous chapters here

chapter ten -> unexpected encounters

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: discussion of past violence, making out in public, slight nipple stuff, drinking and smoking, little bit of jealousy, luke has gross friends

a/n: sorry for glazing lando but i do fully believe that luke would think he’s hot asf. also i’m excited for the next chapter—but we r making it closer to the end!

Communication with Luke had been sparse lately, as soccer was picking up quite a bit. He still texted you every few days though. He had started taking photos of food he was having and sharing them with you, often with little captions detailing what it was and how he ranked it. You began looking forward to his food reviews, as you loved entertaining his interests. He would also often ask you for movie recommendations when he was traveling on the bus for games, which were farther and farther away as playoffs grew closer. Despite your busy schedules, you were keeping in touch. That made you happy.

When you arrived home on Friday evening, you were surprised to see Leia sitting at your kitchen table. Han was wearing glasses—something he refused to do in front of anyone other than you and Chewie—and a book sat open before him, but he wasn’t reading it. Rather, he was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking downright upset.

“Hello,” Leia greeted you, giving you a forced smile.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to assess the tension in the room, “Are you guys okay?”

“They arrested him,” she said simply. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that she was talking about Fett. She didn’t deliver it like it was good news. Han said nothing, staring down at the table.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Han isn’t going to press charges.”

You whipped your head around to face him, surprised by his decision.

“What?” you exclaimed, but he avoided your eyes, “He tried to kill you, Han.”

“I am not pressing charges against Boba Fett,” he replied slowly, with a sense of finality that made your nerves spike.

“Han, your testimony could put him away for a long, long time—“ Leia tried, but he cut her off.

“You guys don’t get it. You don’t get what they’re like. He’s just the messenger.”

“Then what will you do?” you asked, hands on your hips as you stared him down.

“Repay my debt,” he answered, sighing, “And I’ll probably have to add in a little more since Lando’s eyewitness account is what got him thrown in jail. I’m already in deep enough shit as it is. I am not pressing charges, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna testify in court. Are you guys fucking crazy?”

“You can’t repay your debt. You’re taking an additional semester. It’s gonna be a long time before you’re making enough money to even pay a fraction of it,” you argued, growing increasingly desperate by the second, “Let me chip in, at least. Or I can cover your rent for the rest of the year.”

He said nothing. You felt bile rise in your throat as another realization began to set in.

“You are not going to work for them again,” you asserted, sitting down in the chair across from him, “Han, you said yourself that you can’t—“

“I don’t have any other choice.”

“That’s not true,” Leia said, avoiding his gaze, “We can press charges against Fett, and then prosecution could offer him a plea deal in exchange for giving them information about the Hutts, which we could use to get their entire operation shut down—“

“There is no we, Leia,” he snapped, “Just stop. Both of you. It’s my shit, and I’ll figure it out. It’s not anyone else’s business.”

“He attacked my brother, Han.”

“And he’s not gonna do it again if you guys just stay out of it from now on.”

“What if I press charges then?” you asked.

His head snapped up then, and he gave you a desperate look that you’d never seen on him before. It made you uneasy.

“Do not. Please.”

The edge to his voice shattered any of your prior audacity, and you stared at him for a moment, bewildered by the level of emotion radiating from him. He almost looked like he might cry, but you’d never seen him do that, so such a thought was unfathomable to you.

“Okay,” you conceded, reaching out and grabbing his hands to try to comfort him, “I won’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, whether it was to himself or to you, you weren’t quite sure, and then he sharply turned to Leia, “And please don’t tell me what I think you’re gonna tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, pursing her lips and staring at her folded hands, “Even if Luke doesn’t testify, I don’t think the state will drop it. He’s a high profile victim.”

“Why’d you have to go and fuck the senator’s kid?” he asked you, his head hanging low, “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Han—“

“Call him. Call him right now and tell him not to press charges.”

“You can’t ask me to do that,” she protested, though she seemed apologetic about it, “Look, Han. We can get this straightened out, okay?”

“Stop saying we,” he pleaded, and then, with a final sigh, he stood and threw his glasses down onto the table, “I’m going for a drive.”

“Don’t shut us out,” Leia told him, standing to match his stature.

“Stay out of it, Leia,” he said, pointing a finger in her face.

With that, he grabbed his keys and slammed the door shut behind him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days had passed since you’d learned of Boba Fett’s arrest. Han had tried to pretend like nothing had changed since then, but you were now constantly regarding each other with an air of suspicion. He was worried that you would follow through on your previous threat to testify, and you were afraid that he would resume contact with the Hutts. It was an uncomfortable situation, you and Chewie walking on eggshells around him at every turn.

Adding to your stress was the fact that you didn’t know whether or not Luke would testify. You didn’t think you could just ask him that, but the question loomed over you.

One evening, things came to a head. You and Chewie were sitting on the couch eating ice cream and watching reality television when Han stormed inside and threw his stuff down, staring at you both pointedly.

“We’re going out tonight,” he stated, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Okay?” you replied, unsure of where this was coming from.

“We’re gonna have a good time. And we’re not gonna talk about any of that bullshit. And you’re both gonna stop looking at me like you feel sorry for me.”

You shared a nervous glance with Chewie, who offered you a reassuring nod. Alright, then.

“This feels irresponsible,” you noted, anxiously chewing your bottom lip, “But okay. Where do you want to go?”

“Wherever the music is,” he answered, grinning, “Be ready in an hour.”

You entertained his request. Your cooperation was due in part to being genuinely worried about him and wanting him to be able to have a nice night, but also because you were excited to spend time with him again in a way that didn’t feel tense or awkward. You didn’t bother dressing up tonight; something casual paired with Han’s leather jacket would suit you just fine. He was ready right when he said he would be, and the three of you headed downtown to scout out some live music.

Fortunately, you were successful pretty early on. You hadn’t really wanted to bar hop tonight, so this worked out well. Less fortunately, however, was that this was a quite a popular venue, and the band was doing cheesy pop covers to appeal to your peers. You would need to have at least one drink to enjoy it, you realized, so you headed off towards the bar.

When you arrived, however, you were surprised to find that none other than Lando was sitting there, in deep discussion with one of his friends.

“Well, look who we have here!” he cheered when he caught sight of you, standing to hug you in that uniquely charismatic way of his.

“Hey,” you greeted him tiredly, not bothering to be polite, “Han’s here, and I think he’s kind of pissed at you for handing over an eyewitness report without consulting him first. Just a heads up.”

“Can’t I want to talk to you for a bit before facing his wrath?” he asked cheekily, gesturing for you to take the seat next to him, “Vodka cran, right?”

Before you could reply, he waved over the bartender and ordered you a double, flashing you a perfect smile.

“Thanks,” you said slowly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Yeah, not to be a dick or anything, but you were kind of complacent in someone I love being beaten within an inch of his life. And now you’re buying me a drink like the last time I saw you wasn’t horribly traumatic. I’m not really feeling up to exchanging pleasantries right now. Sorry.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes so serious that you thought he might start berating you. You jumped in your seat a little when he burst out into laughter, shaking his head at you like you were an old friend.

“No wonder Han is so fond of you,” he mused, smiling at you again, “I am sincerely sorry about what happened that night, but you should know that he and I have been in touch since. He understands that I legally have to report incidents like that as an employee.”

“Begrudgingly,” a voice behind you snapped.

You let out a sigh of relief when Han and Chewie appeared next to you, providing some respite in such an uncomfortable situation. Chewie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you offered him a sip of your drink.

“Chewie! And Han, dear friend,” Lando said happily, standing and embracing the other man, “To whom I owe many favors.”

“We’ll see if you make good on your part,” he grumbled, “Seems like you’re wasting money on flattery right now.”

“Not flattery,” he denied, something smug about him, “Just being friendly.”

“A little too friendly.”

“Han,” he reprimanded, clicking his tongue before turning to you, “How do you stand him being so protective of you? He’s acting like your mother.”

In spite of yourself, you smiled a little at the absurdity of Han being called motherly in any sense of the word.

“I manage,” you replied a little less coldly than before.

You relaxed further when Han just rolled his eyes and slapped Lando on the back hard enough to hurt, leaning down so that the other man could mumble something in his ear. Han looked at you curiously before nodding at something Lando said, and then he stood, messed up your hair, and walked away with Chewie at his side.

“I’ve been given a task,” Lando explained, leaning a bit closer to you, “One that I’m happy to oblige, if you’re willing.”

“Excuse me?”

He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, but made no move to touch you or invade your space.

“Don’t look now, but Skywalker is watching.”

There was no way Luke could be here. You supposed it was quite crowded and you’d only just arrived, but how had you not seen him? And why would he be staring at you? Had Lando not warned you against it, you would’ve immediately turned to find Luke in the crowd, unbelieving of the idea that he’d be looking at you.

“And?” you dared to press, suddenly feeling his eyes on you and knowing that it had to be true.

“You’re tangled up in some sort of mess with him, aren’t you?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek for a second, mulling over his question. Your shoulders slumped as you forced yourself to admit it out loud for the first time.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you confessed, chasing the words down with your drink.

“I think it’s mutual, if you don’t mind me saying as much,” he told you, taking a sip of his own beverage, “He comes to Cloud City a lot. I haven’t seen him with anyone else since the night he came to your defense. It’s unusual for him.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then why’s he glaring at me?”

The prospect seemed so outright ridiculous to you that you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bitter and frustrated.

“It’s probably just because he thinks you’re a dick for taking Fett’s bribe at first.”

“Ouch,” he winced, but he didn’t stay down for long, “But I don’t think so. He’s not that confrontational. Only when you’re involved.”

“Cut it out,” you warned, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“So what you two have is more complicated than it seems, I suppose,” he noted coolly, looking over your shoulder, “His drink is empty, but he hasn’t come over to the bar since you’ve been here. He probably can’t stomach the idea that I’m showing you a good time—doesn’t wanna deal with it up close. If only he knew you were actually laughing at me rather than with me.”

“You deserve it,” you murmured, though a sheepish smile tugged at your lips.

“I won’t argue with that.”

You giggled at that, unable to fully fend off Lando’s charm, and felt some of the tension drain from your limbs. You weren’t sure what kind of truce they’d arranged yet, but you knew that if Han had any doubts about Lando’s intentions, he would’ve never left you alone with him—even if he was in the same room, likely observing you like a hawk from afar.

“I should tell you that Han was comfortable enlisting help from me,” he said seriously, “I’ll make sure the trouble stops here, okay? He’s not gonna get hurt again. You have my word.”

The admission surprised you, and you couldn’t help the widening of your eyes, your disbelief unable to be concealed.

“His debt will be paid. It might take a while, but we’ll ensure that the Hutts are confident in his ability to give them their money.”

“You’re gonna help him smuggle drugs,” you realized bitterly, once again feeling betrayed by Lando, “He can’t—“

“This is better than him going alone, which was his initial plan. This way, he’ll at least have protection.”

You moved to get up from your seat, but Lando placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, urging you to sit back down. You obliged him for reasons you didn’t fully understand, and he offered you a glass of water out of gratitude.

“You should also know that Leia Skywalker approached me before he did.”

That intrigued you. You settled back into your seat fully then, picking your vodka cran back up and taking a dignified sip of it, a silent demand for him to continue.

“You can’t tell him about any of this,” he warned, leaning forward and whispering to you once more, “We’re gonna have him work under the Hutts for a little while to clear him of suspicion, show that he’s a loyal underling and all once he’s been scared straight. He won’t be doing this for long.”

“And then what?”

He pursed his lips together at that and shook his head, giving you an apologetic look.

“You’re not gonna tell me?” you asked, irritated.

“I’m sorry. It’s better that you don’t feel like you’re keeping secrets from him, isn’t it?”

“It’s better that I know he’s safe.”

“You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Do you trust Leia?”

You fell silent. Fine.

“You’re a good friend,” he told you before looking over your shoulder again, musing, “Ah. Shouldn’t have touched you, I suppose. I’ve poked the bear.”

Before you could figure out what he was talking about, you heard someone call your name excitedly, and suddenly a pair of strong arms looped around your neck, a kiss being placed on top of your head. You looked up to see Luke standing above you, leaning over your chair to keep you in a half hug without forcing you to stand.

“Hi,” he said, smiling brightly at you. There was an edge to him, though, and when you looked over your shoulder you could see Han smirking.

He must’ve said something to Lando about your infatuation with Luke, you realized. He was conspiring with the other man to make Luke jealous. It was so stupid, and so ridiculously Han that you wanted to laugh. Even more absurd was that it appeared to be working.

“Luke Skywalker,” Lando greeted, “Heard you all had a pretty nice game today.”

You couldn’t see Luke’s expression very well from this angle, but you thought he might’ve been annoyed.

“It was a lot of fun,” he replied politely, arms still wrapped around you.

“It seemed like fun. I don’t usually watch college sports on television, but I figured I’d tune in to see one of my favorite customers. You were fantastic.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding somewhat thrown off by Lando’s sudden interest in his sport, “They were an aggressive team, so we needed a drink after that.”

“I’m sure. Seemed like they were giving you in particular quite a bit of trouble. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t react further.

“Right,” he replied, sounding skeptical, “Well, if you don’t mind, I might have to steal your company for a bit. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

You were surprised by that. You didn’t think he’d be so bothered by Lando that he’d want to pull you away from him, and you had to pretend not to be as amused as you were.

“That’s a shame, but I understand,” Lando said, before turning to you and smugly adding, “Well, if you’re able to make time for me later tonight, I’d love to continue our conversation.”

He threw in a wink, and your cheeks flushed in spite of yourself.

“Maybe. Thanks for the drink, Lando,” you murmured, standing.

“Bye, Lando!” Luke cheered, feigning innocence but looking proud of himself. He put his hand on your lower back then and guided you into the crowd, successfully getting you alone and near the wall. He was becoming skilled at dragging you away to locations that fulfilled those two requirements in particular.

Rather than interrogate you about Lando, however, the first thing he did was pull you into a hug. He pulled away to pepper kisses across your forehead, behaving as if the two of you were lovers who hadn’t seen each other in forever. The latter was true, but Han’s presence was likely responsible for the theatrics.

“It’s been too long,” he sighed, finally looking you in the eye, “Sorry. I’m not trying to be possessive or anything, I just—I needed to see you. And I don’t particularly like Lando, especially when he’s trying to embarrass me.”

“I don’t know how to feel about him. He bought me a drink, though.”

“I noticed.”

His tone made you giggle.

“How was he trying to embarrass you? Seemed like he was kissing your ass.”

“And that’s embarrassing,” he clarified, “But actually, he was about to bring up how some guys on the other team were being kind of rough with me. I could tell.“

“If you say so,” you hummed, tucking a blond curl behind his ear, as you often did these days, “Why were they being rough with you?”

“Because I’m good,” he replied, grinning.

“Right, right. Sorry, Captain.”

“I forgive you,” he told you, hands making their way down to gently grab your hips, “Couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially not when you look like this.”

“I look like shit,” you laughed, recalling that you hadn’t put much effort into your outfit tonight, “You’re just wound up because those guys were being ‘rough’ with you earlier, right?”

“Hey!” he gasped, giggling in the way that always made your head spin, “That’s crazy to say. I haven’t seen you in over a week and you’re making fun of me already.”

“It’s how I express affection,” you teased, leaning into him and placing a hand on his chest, “It’s okay, Luke. I know how easy you are to rile up. It’s only natural that a bunch of men in tight clothes getting handsy would—“

He cut you off by planting a kiss on your lips. He was likely only trying to shut you up, but you responded by biting his bottom lip, causing his grip on you to tighten. He sighed into the kiss, melting into you.

“Luke!”

There was a slim possibility that he just didn’t hear him, but Luke most likely deepened the kiss out of spite, hand coming up to your neck as he forced your lips apart even wider. He usually relented to your control at some point, but perhaps having an audience emboldened him, because he fully took the lead as he guided you backwards into the wall. You matched his fervor, looping your arms around his neck to give him more access to your body. He responded by slotting a knee between your thighs, his free hand near the hem of your shirt, practically begging to slip beneath the fabric and feel your skin.

“All good?” he pulled back to ask as you panted, the speed at which the encounter had escalated making you a little dizzy. You nodded, but he chastised you by clicking his tongue, lips close to your ear as he whispered, “I need to hear you say it, baby. We’re in public, it’s crowded, and I don’t wanna push you.”

“Yes,” you told him, nodding again, “I mean, I don’t wanna fuck in front of everybody or anything, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you touching me.”

“Wouldn’t be opposed to it?” he teased, gently nipping the skin by your jaw, “What exactly are you unopposed to?”

“You were about to put your hands under my shirt. Can’t you just do that?” you griped, squirming a little as his fingertips ghosted your ribs.

“Why did you just ask?”

You rolled your eyes, but your attitude dissolved when he finally complied, hand inching closer and closer to your chest. When he gently pressed the pad of his thumb against your nipple, you sighed, tilting your head and letting it rest against the wall. He attached his lips to your neck then, kissing down the side as he fondled your chest with the perfect amount of pressure, making you feel a little dizzy. Compiled with the fact that he didn’t mind if anyone saw him take you apart like this made your heart swell, and you felt a tinge of pride at the realization that you looked like you were his in this moment.

“Luke!” someone hollered again, and he reacted by softly biting the sensitive spot above your collarbone, causing you to quietly moan. You felt him smile against your skin, and you knew then that he definitely heard the calls of his friends.

“They’re trying to get your attention,” you managed to say, gasping a little as he continued to suck bruises into your skin, “Luke, they’re yelling for you—“

“They need to learn how to take a hint,” he mumbled, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingertips, “Do you want me to stop?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” you replied quietly. He had the audacity to giggle.

“I can see that,” he whispered, lips now dangerously close to your ear, “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. About your mouth. I’ve missed you.”

His words set your cheeks ablaze, and you responded by holding him closer to you. He laughed again and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with an emotion that seemed like something much more than lust.

“I missed you too,” you told him, feeling a little shy from your confession, “I’m glad to see you here.”

“I didn’t wanna go out tonight, but they always drag me somewhere after a win. I’m feeling a lot better about being here now though.”

You couldn’t help the grin that you were sporting, far too happy to hear that he was this excited to see you.

“Is that why you’re so eager tonight?” you teased.

“I also didn’t really like seeing Lando flirt with you,” he mumbled, looking down at his shoes for a moment, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not your boyfriend, but—I don’t know, actually. I’m not entitled to your time more than anyone else, I realize that, but I just really hated watching that.”

“He was trying to make you jealous,” you confessed, feeling embarrassed, “I think Han may have told him to.”

Luke cocked his head a little at you then, and subsequently burst into a fit of giggles. He looked around the room for Han, but due to the crowd he was unable to find him. Still, he shook his head fondly, surprising you with his reaction.

“Of course he did,” he mused, grinning, “He must have seen me before you did, then. But Lando was still a little too happy to indulge him.”

“Uh oh,” you frowned, perhaps a bit mockingly, “Am I banned from talking to Lando now? That’s a shame. He’s kind of cute.”

“Hey,” he pouted, pinching your nipple again to remind you of what you were supposed to be in the middle of, “No, you’re not banned from talking to Lando. That’s stupid as fuck. I don’t consider myself particularly possessive.”

“How noble,” you snorted, but you smiled nonetheless, because of course he wasn’t. Luke was just too nice, too good at emotionally regulating to ever actually instigate anything just because he was feeling jealous. His ability to think through situations like that was part of the reason why you adored him so much.

“But I’d be lying if I said I’d be happy for you,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Well, like, objectively speaking I might be a little happy for you. Lando’s really hot, and he’s a smooth talker. He’s like a much more polite version of Han. I don’t even know how mad I could be if you guys got together. Like, I would be disappointed, because I’d want it to be me, but—“

“Woah,” you interjected, “You’d want it to be you? As in you’d want to be the one dating Lando? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

You both laughed at that, Luke’s eyes bright even in the dim lighting of the bar.

“I’d be jealous of both of you, sure,” he teased, hands falling to grab your waist, “But I’d be especially jealous of him. I won’t stop you from pursuing Lando, if that’s what you wanna do, but I’d love it if you pursued me instead.”

His honesty was amusing and disarming, and you once again couldn’t conceal your laughter. You lightly shoved him, which he replied to with a grin, assuring you that this was all in good fun. You loved that the two of you could go from making out against the wall to making fun of each other on the flip of a dime. Everything with Luke felt natural, and everything was so incredibly fun.

“Are you sure? It sounds like you might have a crush on Lando.”

“I’d be stupid to refuse Lando, but he doesn’t flirt with me,” he replied, grinning, “And no. The only person I have a crush on is you.”

You wouldn’t have let yourself believe that he really meant that if it weren’t for the way his expression fell as soon as the words left his mouth. His eyes widened and his face paled, and he almost looked like he was panicking.

“I’m sorry. Listen, I’m—“

Before he could explain, Elias was behind him, grabbing his shoulders. Luke’s stress didn’t fully disappear, but now he looked more irritated than anything else.

“Luke!” Elias shouted, even though the other man was standing right next to him, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, man. We’re supposed to be celebrating you.”

He had no chance to protest before Elias was shoving him towards the bar. In a moment of apparent desperation, Luke reached out and grabbed your hand, effectively tacking you onto their group for the night. He shook Elias off by agreeing to follow him, and immediately entangled your fingers.

He mouthed an I’m sorry to you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. Something about it was strangely sweet, so you decided to put up with his friends for the time being. When you arrived at the bar, however, you saw Lando in the company of Han and Chewie. Han had never actually interacted with Luke’s friends before, and anxiety twisted in your gut.

“Fuck,” Luke hissed under his breath, and you looked around to see that quite a large crowd had gathered around the corner of the bar, anticipating his arrival. Most of the soccer team appeared to be there, and a considerable number of other people you assumed were in their friend group stood there as well. Of course, Marie and her friends were present too, and you tried to channel some of Luke’s overall good intentions despite his apparent jealousy.

“Luke!” a girl you didn’t recognize greeted him, pulling him into a hug. He politely returned it and told her hello, as he did with the people to follow in her footsteps for the next few minutes. Finally, one of his teammates presented him with a rather large mug of beer, thrusting it into his hands and spilling some of it onto his shirt.

“To Luke and his nomination for the Hermann Trophy. Way to go, man. Cheers.”

The group applauded and yelled some explicative words that were supposed to be praise, tilting their glasses to the ceiling in a toast. You had no idea what the Hermann Trophy was supposed to be, but it sounded like a positive thing, so you joined them in their applause. He smiled and took a sip of his beer, but the teammate from earlier then shoved it closer to his face, spilling some of it onto his neck in the process.

“Chug it!” someone hollered, and you saw Luke grimace.

“This is huge,” he remarked in a weak attempt to defend himself. As expected, no one cared. They all looked at him, waiting. He sighed and relented, forcing the liquid down his throat. It took him over a minute to chug the entirety of the mug’s contents, and he looked like he was trying not to gag afterwards. The boys cheered him on again, a few of them slapping him on the back rather harshly in congratulations. Marie ran over to him next, throwing her arms around him and talking right in his ear.

Chewie appeared behind you then, gently guiding you towards Han and Lando on the other side of the bar.

“What’s all that shit about?” Han asked, raising his eyebrow at you.

“He got nominated for some award, I guess. I think they just want an excuse to drink, and he’s their poster child. So.”

“You don’t know about the Hermann Trophy?” Lando asked. You shook your head.

“It goes to the best soccer player in the country. It’s the most prestigious award you can get in the sport,” he explained, looking at Luke, who was having another drink shoved in his face.

“Oh,” you replied quietly. You felt guilty and weirdly ashamed to not have known. Luke also never told you, which was a little hurtful.

“He’s been scouted a for it a few times, but people would’ve been pissed if he won over an upperclassman. It looks like he might actually get it this year.”

“You sure know a lot about our soccer team to not even go to school here,” Han snorted, “You a big fan of Luke, Lando?”

“I’m a local,” he shrugged, smiling, “And of course. He’s my favorite patron.”

“Well, good thing this ain’t your bar, because they’re making a mess over there.”

“And they’re being annoying,” you added, watching as Marie offered him a shot. You noticed that he didn’t try to pour it into her mouth, and you felt a little smug.

“You gonna rescue him?” Han asked.

“I’m supposed to be hanging out with you tonight,” you argued quietly, still staring at Luke.

“Uh huh,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Didn’t seem to be a concern to you when he was shovin’ his tongue down your throat a few minutes ago, sweetheart.”

“You saw that?” you squawked, mouth agape. Lando chuckled.

“Sure I did. Had to keep an eye on Lando to make sure he didn’t take any drastic artistic liberties, but I wasn’t expecting the kid to react that strongly. Almost sent Chewie over to set him straight.”

Chewie shook his head, as if to say I wouldn’t have done that. You giggled at his reaction in spite of yourself.

“If you had done that, I would’ve been really pissed,” you told them both, pointing your finger in Han’s face, “You can’t try to wingman for me and then get mad about the results. Those are the consequences of your actions.”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be so forward,” Han argued, “But maybe if you had been honest with me about the two of you fucking, I would’ve had a better idea of how far he was willing to go.”

“First of all, we’re not fucking. Second of all, that’s really bold coming from you, Han, because I’m pretty sure Leia wore your shirt home the other night. But whatever.”

Han looked affronted for a moment before scoffing and taking a drink of his whiskey. Lando laughed and shook his head, regarding Han with something akin to fondness.

“The twins have done a number on you both, huh? Glad you’re staying out of this mess, Chewie.”

Chewie grunted and held his hands up, making it very clear that he had no interest in getting involved with a Skywalker.

“I’m surprised Leia puts up with you though, Han. She doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Lando added, likely trying to get a reaction out of the other man. You laughed.

“Careful, Lando. Han’s the jealous type. Much worse than Luke.”

“I know. I’ve seen it in person before. He’s a menace.”

“Alright, alright. I don’t know how this turned into everyone shitting on me, but that’s enough,” he snapped, though he squeezed your shoulder affectionately and ordered you a light drink anyway.

“Speaking of Luke, he sure is popular tonight,” Han mused, only catching glimpses of the other man as he was bombarded by the crowd around him.

“He always is,” Lando replied, “And this is just for the watchlist. Imagine what will happen if he actually wins it.”

“Doesn’t look too happy though, huh?”

“He doesn’t like beer,” you added quietly, taking a sip of your own drink, “And he doesn’t like a lot of those people either.”

“Are you really gonna leave him to the wolves?” Han asked, sounding a little worried. You liked it when he fretted over Luke; it was sweet.

“He’s a grown man. And I don’t wanna make any assumptions.”

“You’d hardly be making assumptions. That boy is enamored by you,” Lando stated. Like it was some sort of fact.

“It’s really not like that.”

The only person I have a crush on is you. Could he have really meant that? Letting yourself get your hopes up would only hurt more in the end, but you couldn’t help but wonder.

“All four of you are dim. How do you stand it, Chewie?”

“Four of us?” Han asked, offended.

“The twins and you two. You need to get yourselves sorted out, because it’s getting painful to watch. And I’m only around every once in a while. I can’t image how poor Chewie feels.”

Chewie nodded in agreement, but a small smile played at his lips. Han rolled his eyes.

“Hey.”

You turned sharply at the voice you didn’t immediately recognize, only to see Biggs standing there.

“Hi,” you replied awkwardly, not quite sure what he could want. Han, apparently, took that as a sign that you were uncomfortable, because he took it upon himself to then intervene.

“Can we help you?” he asked, glaring at the other man. Biggs looked a little put off by that.

“Um, yeah. Sorry to bother you, but they’re about to try to haul Luke off to a bar crawl.”

“Okay?” you replied, eyebrow raised.

“And then they want him to go to this after party at Marie’s. And they’re gonna try to get them together.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you snorted, turning back around to face Han and the others.

“I think he’d rather hang out with you.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you didn’t bother acknowledging him.

“Look,” he tried again, and you sighed when you relented and met his eyes again, “I just don’t think this is a good idea for him to be doing right now. He’s not very good at putting his foot down about this stuff, and I’m a little worried about how many drinks they’re handing him, and they’re being really insistent on him dating Marie because they want an in to fuck her friends. There are a lot of ways that this could go wrong.“

You weren’t exactly sure of what he was suggesting, but you felt uneasy.

“Why can’t you do something about it? They’re your friends. Tell them to fuck off.”

“It’s not that easy. They’ll get pissed at me. And at him. This only works if someone on the outside gives him an out. This is usually when Leia steps in with a dumb excuse and drags him home, but she’s at band practice.”

“‘This only works if someone on the outside gives him an out,’” Han sneered, mocking him, “You sound stupid, and you guys all have a fucked up perception of friendship.”

With that, he stood abruptly and shoved past Biggs, leaving the other man wide eyed. You watched as Han pushed his way through the crowd, apparently on a mission to get to Luke. Lando chuckled.

“Is that guy your boyfriend?” Biggs asked, staring at Han from across the bar.

“No,” you answered quickly, “My roommate.”

“He’s seeing Leia,” Lando added, smirking, “That’s probably why he decided to intervene. He’s doing it on her behalf.”

That made sense.

“I’m sorry,” Biggs said then, turning to you, “I know you don’t really like us. I understand why you wouldn’t. Some of us really do have his best interest at heart, though.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, distracted by Han dragging a grinning Luke out of the crowd, “Seems like most of you are just interested in him because of who his parents are.”

“I’ve known Luke for a long time,” he said, somewhat ominously, “And I know you think that he should stand up for himself more, but just try to understand that he really doesn’t wanna piss off the people who are defending him on the field. His career and his likability are pretty tangled up.”

“Alright, Biggs,” you murmured, growing a little uncomfortable with talking about Luke behind his back like this, “I’m not thinking about you guys as much as you think I am. It’s fine.”

“Chewie!”

You turned to see Luke hanging off of Han’s arm, his cheerfulness a dichotomy with Han’s disgruntled expression. You wished Leia could’ve seen it. Luke then let go of Han and focused his attention on your other roommate, pulling the tall man into a hug like they were old friends. Chewie awkwardly indulged him, looking to Han for help, who only shrugged.

“I’ve missed you guys. We should hang out,” he said, smiling widely. You wondered how many drinks he’d been given, because he was already in a much different state than the one you’d left him in.

“Thank you,” Biggs said to Han. Han only nodded, still regarding the other man with suspicion, but said nothing to him as he turned to leave.

“Are you leaving, Biggs?” Luke asked as he reached for him, “Did I ever tell you how we met? I had to live with my aunt and uncle for a little while, and—“

“Luke,” Biggs interjected, cutting him off, “Stop.”

“It’s fine. They’re like, really normal. They don’t care about that stuff—“

“You’re in public,” Biggs reminded him, grabbing his shoulder, “And you’re drunk. You can tell them tomorrow if you still want to, okay?”

“Oh,” Luke replied, looking around, “Okay. I’ll tell you guys tomorrow, then.”

“Get him home,” Biggs said, pointing at you, “I’m gonna tell them that Leia called and he has to leave, okay?”

With that, Biggs departed, Luke waving at him as he left. Han scowled.

“Pawning him off onto us when he gets too drunk. That’s fucked,” he complained, hands on his hips.

“I can get home by myself,” Luke replied, and you tried not to let the hurt in his voice overwhelm you, “I’m not that fucked up. I just probably shouldn’t hang out with them right now. But I can just go home, and you guys can stay and enjoy the rest of your night. It’s really okay.”

You watched as Han battled some sort of internal struggle, the conflict showing on his face.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he finally said, softening his tone a little, “Chewie, you and Lando can hang out here if you want. We can smoke when I get back.”

“You sure? We can walk with you guys,” Lando offered.

“It’s fine. I wanted a cigarette anyway. Have fun.”

With that, Han made his way to the door, staring at you and Luke expectantly. You supposed you were walking him home, then.

“I really don’t want to be a burden,” Luke protested. Han rolled his eyes and continued walking, making it clear that he was leaving the bar either way. Reluctantly, Luke followed, and you walked behind him.

Han was, in fact, lighting a cigarette as soon as you got outside.

“Your sister will kill me if your dickhead friends get you into trouble while I’m around,” Han explained, taking a drag, “So stop moping and lead the way.”

Luke sighed and began walking, hands shoved in his pockets as he started down the route to his apartment complex.

“I wasn’t trying to be an ass. I feel bad,” Han told you quietly, cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“I think it’s alright. He’s probably just overwhelmed. Getting shit faced in twenty minutes will do that to a person.”

Han nodded, and you ran to catch up with Luke. Even drunk, he was still much faster than you on account of being in shape.

“Hey,” you said, making it to his side, “You didn’t tell me about your award.”

“Hey,” he replied, a little sheepishly, “Because it’s not my award. I’m only a nominee.”

“A nominee for the best player in the country. That’s fucking crazy, Luke.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he said, dismissing you, “Is Han mad at me?”

“What?” you asked, a little surprised, “No, Luke. He feels bad that he snapped at you a few minutes ago, so he’s giving you some space. That’s just how he is.”

“I meant about the Fett stuff.”

You faltered, caught off guard by that.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “Um, I don’t think so? He hasn’t said much else about it.”

“I’m not testifying or anything,” he clarified.

“He wouldn’t ask you not to testify. You should if you feel like you need to.”

“I don’t want to. I hate court. It fucking sucks,” he said, trailing off a little. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you weren’t about to press him for information when he was obviously inebriated.

“Okay,” you replied awkwardly, “That’s fine, then. Do what you want.”

“He’ll be okay,” he continued, “She’s making me stay out of it, but Leia’s really trying to pull some strings right now.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t really know what he was talking about, save for the vague information Lando had given you earlier.

“I’m impressed that you managed to choke down that beer,” you said instead, changing the topic.

“Oh, god,” he winced, scrunching up his nose in that adorable way of his, “You’re telling me. That was horrible.”

You continued to make small talk all the way to his apartment complex, one of you having tangled your fingers together at some point. Han put out his cigarette when you arrived at the doors, the man working the front desk in the lobby recognizing Luke and pressing the elevator button for him. You couldn’t get over how fancy this place was.

“You reek,” you told Han when he followed you into the elevator. Luke had wrapped himself around your good arm, leaning to be able to rest his head on your shoulder. He must’ve been tired.

Han just grunted, arms crossed. When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Luke dragged you out and into the hallway, holding you as close to him as he possibly could. He dropped his keys twice when he tried to open the door, and Han eventually grew frustrated and snatched them from his hands.

At last, he pushed the door open, and you finally completed your mission of returning Luke Skywalker to his home.

What came as a surprise, however, was the fact that Padme and Anakin Skywalker were sitting on the couch.

[dazaih]

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can find previous chapters here

chapter nine -> the sleepover

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: nightmares, light angst, sexual humor

a/n: HERE’S CHAPTER 9!!!!! so sorry for the delay and tysm for being patient with me as i recover from my injury <3

You woke with a start, a firm weight pressing into your chest stirring momentary panic within you. You let out a sigh of relief when you realized that the culprit was Luke, cuddled up next to you. Blinking a few times, you glanced at your phone to check the time. It was 1:30 in the morning, which meant that you and Luke had been asleep for over an hour. You also noticed that Chewie had texted you thirty minutes ago.

Chewie: high asf leia brought some strong shit. going 2 bed

Chewie: they’re in the living room i don’t think they’ll start fucking but beware if u go in there

Chewie: luke was talking about u the whole way home btw

You blushed and tossed your phone to the end of your bed, almost hitting Luke’s foot in the process. You gently moved him off of you, and he only stirred slightly, still mostly asleep. He must have been tired, you noted, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead as you got out of bed.

You made your way into the kitchen then, and you saw Han and Leia sitting on the couch. They were eating some of the pizza from earlier, and you realized then that Luke hadn’t had any of it even though he was so hungry. No wonder he was tired; he was probably eating sleep for dinner. You heard a scream emit from the television, and you could only guess that they were watching some sort of horror movie. You tried not to react outwardly when you saw how close they were sitting, legs pressed together while Han very casually had his arm resting on the back of the couch, inches away from being wrapped around her.

You took a slice of pizza and popped it into the microwave, gaining their attention in the process.

“Hey,” Han greeted you, voice a little raspy from both the hour of the night and the copious amounts of weed he’d smoked, “You feelin’ better?”

You were confused for a moment, but recalled that Luke had lied and told them that your head was hurting earlier as an explanation for your absence.

“Yeah, just tired,” you said, grabbing a soda from the fridge, “Chewie said you guys smoked him out.”

“Chewie was already on an edible by the time we started smoking,” he snorted, rolling his eyes, “You should know better than to think that anyone could out-smoke him.”

You laughed tiredly, nodding.

“That makes more sense,” you agreed, smiling, “What’re you guys watching?”

“The Conjuring,” Leia replied before Han could stop her, and you heard him sigh.

“That movie sucks,” you said, “The second one is way better—“

“I’m too high to hear one of your movie spiels,” he warned, glaring at you. You laughed and took a bite of your pizza, shrugging.

“Where’s Luke?” Leia asked.

“He’s asleep,” you murmured, hoping not to get any further questions about where he was sleeping and what you all had been up to.

“He is?”

She sounded surprised, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, and you gave her a curious look.

“Should I wake him up?”

“No!” she said quickly before regaining her composure, “Sorry, no. You can let him sleep. Assuming that’s okay with you.”

“I don’t mind. He doesn’t snore.”

She relaxed a little, and you wanted to press her further but decided against it.

“Are you guys staying the night?” Han asked suddenly.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she replied, seemingly torn between her options, “But Luke—never mind, sorry. We can have our driver pick us up whenever you guys want us out of your hair.”

“You can stay,” Han assured her, being uncharacteristically kind, “You can take my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s late.”

She seemed caught off guard by the offer, but gave him a small smile in return.

“I’m not gonna take your bed, but I wouldn’t mind spending the night. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Your royal servants will execute me at dawn if they find out that I made their princess sleep on a shitty couch. I can’t risk my health like that. My luck’s running out as it is.”

She giggled, and the interaction was so strangely pleasant that you felt like you were intruding on something. For that reason, you promptly bid them goodnight and scurried away. You left some clean pajamas in the bathroom for Leia and returned to your room, surprised to see Luke tiredly looking up at you through lidded eyes.

“Hey,” he said quietly, voice raspy, “Do I need to leave?”

“No,” you assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing his bangs out of his face, “You guys are spending the night.”

“Oh,” he replied, seemingly a little confused, “Am I allowed to sleep here? I can take the couch—“

“I just sucked your dick. I don’t mind if you sleep in my bed.”

He blushed a little, still out of it, and nodded shyly.

“I should tell you something,” he began nervously, now avoiding your gaze. You were suddenly concerned, and you tried to provide him with some comfort by continuing to stroke his hair.

“You can tell me anything,” you said softly, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Okay,” he sighed, looking down, “I, um, have parasomnia. Like, the nightmare kind. And it’s bad, I guess? I’m not gonna like, hurt you in my sleep or anything. But I’m not a very fun person to spend the night with.”

You stared at him for a moment, the revelation making your heart ache. Luke, who was always so energetic and positive, wasn’t afforded any solace in his sleep. It struck you as cruel, but perhaps your feelings for him were amplifying that. Being overly emotional in your reaction wouldn’t do him any favors, and so you pushed the urge to cradle him in your arms aside.

“That’s okay,” you told him, caressing his cheek, “Is there anything I can do? Anything that usually helps you?”

He didn’t reply at first, looking at you with his mouth slightly agape. You wondered if that was the wrong thing to say, but he placated you soon after your worries arose, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, though his voice was distant, “It’s not your responsibility. I just wanted you to be aware. In case it changes your willingness to share a bed with me.”

“Why would it change anything?”

“Because it’s weird? I dunno.”

“Luke,” you sighed, feeling that familiar pang in your heart that only he seemed to be able to evoke from you, “If someone tells you that you’re weird for something that’s out of your control, then they suck, and that says more about them than it does about you. I’m not gonna judge you for shit like that, alright?”

He looked at you in quiet disbelief, finally nodding and letting out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” he said, meeting your eyes, “And the cuddling is still okay?”

“Of course,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Do you wanna go back to sleep?”

He nodded and pulled the covers up, inviting you to join him. When you did, he immediately pulled you into his chest again, securing his arms tightly around you.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, finally closing his eyes.

You were asleep again within minutes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The nightmares did, in fact, come. A strangled yelp had woken you up, and you sat up with a start, your eyes adjusting to see Luke with his hand covering his mouth, his chest rising in time with his rapid breathing. His eyes flicked over to you, and only then did you notice that he was crying. The realization filled you with despair, and you instantly committed yourself to bringing him back to a state of calm.

“Hey,” you began softly, “Are you—“

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, covering his mouth again in an effort to suppress the sob that threatened to escape his lips, “Can I use your restroom?”

“Of course,” you said, and he stood quickly. You tried to follow him, but he shook his head.

“I just need a second. I’m sorry.”

With that, he left the room.

You sat with baited breath, awaiting his return and longing to comfort him in some way. Hundreds of questions flooded your head, but you suppressed them in an effort to remain collected when he came back. One was at the forefront of your mind, though: What had he been dreaming about?

After about fifteen minutes, you saw the doorknob twist, and he finally reentered the room. You had turned on your bedside lamp since his departure, and you could now fully see his disheveled state. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks stained with tears. He looked pitiful, sad, and you felt so bad for him that it was overwhelming.

“Sorry,” he said, voice strained. He must’ve been crying in your bathroom.

“Don’t be sorry,” you told him, patting the mattress, “I’ll hold you if you want, okay?”

He stared at you for a second, as if he didn’t quite understand your offer. He blinked, and then slowly walked over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it and staring down at his hands. His body was tilted towards you, but he wasn’t lying down, so you sat up and touched his shoulder. He jumped a little, but didn’t brush you off.

“I can leave,” he said then, not meeting your eyes, “My driver will be able to get me, so it’s not any trouble. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you said, gently rubbing his back. He finally looked at you then, his expression difficult to decipher.

“It might happen again.”

“That’s fine,” you replied, “I’m sorry that this is happening to you, but I’d still really like you to stay. If you’re comfortable with that, that is.”

He sighed, sounding defeated, and relaxed into your touch. He let you guide him back underneath the covers, the two of you lying down again. His eyes were closed now, a single tear rolling down his cheek, and you gently wiped it with your thumb.

“Do you wanna talk about it at all?” you asked softly.

“It’s not your responsibility,” he said, voice cracking a bit in a way that made your heart ache.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” you replied, tucking his hair behind his ear, “I care about you. When you’re upset, I want to be there for you.”

“It’s not your responsibility,” he repeated, sniffling. Seeing Luke quiet and sad felt wrong, and you wished you could make him feel better.

“Stop saying that,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “You’re not feeling well. It’s okay to accept help from other people.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it,” he replied, his voice shaky, “I shouldn’t have made you deal with it. I’m sorry.”

“Can I hold you?” you asked. He opened his eyes and stared at you, seemingly confused.

“What?”

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine. But I know that you like physical affection, and I like that too, so if it would help, then I’d really love to hold you.”

He blinked, studying you intently, as if he were looking for something hidden beneath your features.

“I ruined your night.”

“What? You didn’t ruin my night. What are you talking about?”

“I woke you up,” he argued, “Because I was crying. And now I’m being weird, and you should be annoyed with me for acting stupid, and—“

“Stop,” you interjected, cupping his cheek, “It’s not your fault that you had a nightmare, Luke. You’re not being very fair to yourself.”

He looked at you with something akin to desperation, like he was begging you to agree that he had done something wrong. You wouldn’t budge, of course, so you just made a show of outstretching your arms, giving him a small smile as you did. He finally relented, allowing you to pull him into a tight embrace. He instinctively buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you gently petted his hair.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you’d taken him into your arms. Every now and then, you could feel him quietly cry, his tears dampening the collar of your shirt.

After a while, his breathing had evened out, and the shaking of his shoulders had subsided. You briefly wondered if he was asleep, but your theory was disproved when he finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “I should’ve had the foresight to stop that from happening. That was irresponsible of me.”

“Stop,” you ordered softly, tucking a blond curl behind his ear, “Being there for you isn’t a chore. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

He sat up and stared at you, his eyes tired, and he gave you a defeated smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “And nothing you can say will make me feel any less guilty about having a meltdown in your room after you’ve been nothing but perfect to me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He laughed, and you hadn’t realized how much you treasured that sound until now.

“You’re funny,” he told you, and he suddenly pulled you into a hug, “And sweet. And doing way too much for someone you’re just pretending to date.”

You laughed to mask the sting that you felt at the fact that none of this was real, and you prayed that he didn’t feel your heart shatter as he held you.

“You’d do the same for me,” you decided to say.

“That’s different,” he replied, readjusting so that you were both lying down again.

“How is that different?” you pressed, looking into his eyes. He smiled at you in a way that almost looked sad, but you chalked it up to him being exhausted from his nightmare.

“Just is,” he said, kissing your cheek before cuddling up to you again, resting a hand on the back of your head as he pulled you closer, “I’ve kept you up for too long. You should sleep.”

“You should sleep,” you argued, but you let him cradle you regardless.

“I’m not gonna risk waking you up again, but I’ll rest,” he bargained.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you mumbled into his neck, “It doesn’t bother me. I promise. What does bother me is you trying to punish yourself for it by staying awake.”

“I don’t do that,” he protested, but the smallness of his voice told you that he was lying. You recalled when you stayed the night at his apartment and he looked as if he hadn’t slept the entire time, and sudden realization washed over you.

“You didn’t sleep when I spent the night at your place. I know you didn’t.”

You felt him sigh, and in a quiet, defeated tone, he whispered, “I didn’t want you to hear.”

“I wouldn’t have judged you.”

“I know. It’s not about that,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “But thanks for saying that. I really appreciate you.”

You blushed and hid your face further in his neck.

“Flattery,” you mumbled simply, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you.

“I mean it. You’ve been a better friend to me in just this semester than people I’ve known for years. Thank you.”

Friend. The word caused bile to rise in your throat, but you suppressed your displeasure, instead letting sleep take you.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, hand in your hair. You thought you heard him say something else, but you weren’t quite sure, as you were quickly fading into unconsciousness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You woke up to Luke still by your side, lazily playing with your hair as he scrolled on his phone, the morning sunlight illuminating his features. His face was still a little puffy from crying, but he seemed much more like himself, and you felt happy to see him so relaxed.

“Morning,” he said softly once he noticed that you were staring, “It’s eight.”

“Morning. Did you sleep?”

“Yes, actually,” he replied, smiling sweetly at you, “I’m sorry again. About last night.”

“Don’t be sorry. I meant everything I said.”

He nodded, blushing a little, streaks of light seeping through the blinds and creating a soft halo around his hair. He looked angelic.

“I got up for some water at like five, and the couch was empty, so.”

You sat up, unable to contain your excitement, and grinned widely at him.

“Oh my god,” you cheered quietly, rubbing your eyes, “Han was saying he’d take the couch, but Leia was saying that she didn’t want to uproot him from his own bed, and I bet they totally just agreed to share the bed, and—This is perfect. We’re such great wingmen.”

“The best in the game,” he agreed, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, not hungover. A little sleepy, but not more than usual, I guess. You?”

“I feel like I got the best head of my life last night,” he teased, and you gently elbowed him in the side, “Seriously, though. I’m doing okay. Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry again about all of that.”

You heard his stomach growl, as if on cue, and you giggled at him.

“You didn’t eat any pizza,” you recalled, frowning.

“It’s fine. I’ll eat when I get home.”

“Or we can go get something now,” you offered, suddenly nervous that he’d reject you.

“I don’t have any clean clothes, and I haven’t brushed my teeth. I probably look like shit.”

“I have a shirt that’ll fit you, at least. And we probably have a spare toothbrush somewhere from Han’s whore days.”

“Han was a whore?” he asked, sounding amused.

“I probably shouldn’t call him that, but yeah. He used to bring people home a lot.“

“To the extent that he kept spare toothbrushes around?”

“Just the cheap kind,” you added, as if that contributed to your defense of him.

“I, of all people, am in no place to judge. I’m just teasing,” he assured you, and you relaxed a little, “I don’t care who Han fucks, as long as he’s not doing it while trying to be exclusive with my sister.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t think so. So, if you have a toothbrush for me and you’re alright with me wearing one of your shirts, I’ll take you up on that breakfast journey.”

You pretended not to be as excited as you actually were, happy to spend time alone with Luke for even longer. You weren’t sure how you’d gotten so lucky. You quickly got dressed, threw Luke one of your oversized sweatshirts, and scurried away to find an unopened toothbrush. Victorious, you returned to your room to see him wearing your shirt, the image momentarily stopping you in your tracks.

“Success?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

You tossed him the toothbrush and he smiled, winking at you before exiting the room and disappearing into your bathroom. He returned a few minutes later, hair much less tousled and looking pretty good to have not had access to any of his own clothes or hygiene products.

“You did quite a number on me,” he said, and you had no idea what he meant until you actually took a good look at him.

His neck was covered in hickeys.

“I’m so sorry,” you squeaked, cheeks ablaze as you covered your mouth in both embarrassment and shock, “Holy shit. I didn’t think—“

“Don’t be sorry. I asked you to.”

“You begged me to,” you corrected, though you still felt a little scandalous.

“I’m not ashamed,” he replied with a shrug, grinning at you, “You’ll have to let me return the favor soon.”

You couldn’t stop blushing this morning. You nodded, trying not to let the implication that he wanted to continue being intimate with you make you collapse completely.

With that, the two of you headed out, leaving Han and Chewie with a text message to inform them of your whereabouts. Luke insisted that he knew of a good bakery nearby, and you followed him into the city. At some point, he’d taken your hand in his own, lacing your fingers together as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Up until you reached the more densely populated area of downtown, you had completely forgotten that Luke was Luke Skywalker. When you felt several pairs of eyes on you, though, you recalled that the guy you’d been playing pretend with was actually the son of a highly prolific politician and Hollywood’s new favorite actor. Nobody stopped you on account of Luke himself not being much of a celebrity, but people certainly recognized him. He squeezed your hand a little tighter when he realized that you’d noticed the staring, his attentiveness making you swoon. He was too sweet.

When you arrived at the bakery, he let go of you only to hold the door, placing a hand on the small of your back as soon as you got inside.

“If you like cinnamon rolls, this is the place to get them. They also have pretty good scones, but the cinnamon rolls are way more filling. They’re like, huge.”

You nodded, listening to him ramble on about the menu.

“I trust your judgment when it comes to food,” you told him, and he beamed at you.

That, apparently, had translated to him as permission to order for you and pay for your food, and he added on a few things for Han, Leia, and Chewie as well. Luke led you to a table by the window, a cute vase of flowers in the center. This felt like a date.

“Is it okay if you and I eat here? We don’t have to stay for long. Just thought it’d be nice,” he asked, sounding nervous.

You nodded, and your food was served to you pretty soon after, the server handing the to-go orders to you in a bag. Luke placed the bag by his feet and took a bite of his cinnamon roll, moaning as he always did.

“You just do that to piss me off now,” you remarked, tasting your own food. He may have been justified this time, because the cinnamon roll was delightful in ways that exceeded your expectations.

“Mostly, yeah,” he admitted, smiling at you.

You ate your breakfast together and chatted, mostly about general small talk topics that you had just never gotten around to learning about each other.

“I don’t even know your major,” you realized, eyes widening.

“I don’t like talking about myself that much when I first meet people. It’s not your fault,” he said sheepishly, blushing.

“Why is that? If I could be as interesting as you are, I’d probably talk about myself all the time.”

He laughed and shook his head.

“I think people usually have a lot of ulterior motives when they try to get to know me, I guess. It’s just a habit now.”

You frowned and pointed your fork at him as you chewed, hoping he’d get your meaning.

“My major?” he asked, and smiled when you nodded, “Guess.”

“Business.”

“Seriously?”

“I dunno. Figured you might do something easy since you’re an athlete and all.”

“Do you think I’d survive in the business world?”

“No,” you decided, shaking your head, “You’re too nice. Okay, um, philosophy.”

He nodded excitedly at that.

“You know me so well,” he teased.

“I took an intro to philosophy class a few semesters ago,” you mused, trying to recall the specifics of the course.

“I know,” he told you, “I took it at the same time as you did.”

You stared at him for a second, his admission not quite computing, because you had never noticed him in that class. You supposed, however, that it was your first year at this school, and you didn’t really know what Luke looked like at that point or why he was such a big deal. It was a rather large lecture as well, definitely over a hundred people. Still, you struggled to wrap your head around the idea that you wouldn’t have noticed him at all, and even more so that he noticed you. He had to have been lying.

“How would you know that?” you asked skeptically, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I remember you. You always sat in the second row, and you participated even though it was a big class. Teacher’s pet,” he quipped, grinning at you.

All of that was true, but you still struggled to believe him even for a second. Why would he have noticed you?

“I’m good with faces,” he added, as if reading your mind, “Especially pretty ones.”

“I don’t believe you. Why did you take intro to philosophy your second year if you planned on majoring in it?”

“I didn’t. I added it as a second major.”

“You’re a double major?”

“Yep. Now guess the other one.”

“Give me a hint.”

“Science.”

“Really?” you asked, unable to mask your surprise, “I was about to guess theater.”

“Because of my dad?”

“Because you’re dramatic.”

“I’m messing with you. I did theater in high school, actually, but then my dad got way more famous than he already was and I got scared of just being given parts that I didn’t deserve.”

“How noble of you. Okay, environmental science?”

“Not a bad guess, but no.”

“Can you just tell me?” you pleaded, growing frustrated with this game. He giggled and finally relented.

“Astronomy,” he said, smiling, “I’m double majoring in philosophy and astronomy.”

It shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was. The image of Luke curiously staring through a telescope and noting the night sky brought you a strange amount of warmth. Everything you learned about him just made you like him even more, and you were overcome by the urge to know him much more deeply than you did.

“That’s really cool,” you confessed, trying not to make your admiration for him obvious, “So I guess you read a lot?”

He nodded, and for the next thirty minutes you listened to him ramble about different books and philosophies that he’d read about. Finally getting him to talk about himself was such a treat that you never wanted breakfast to end, but as time ticked on, you realized that you’d have to get back to the house at a reasonable hour to give the others their breakfast. Luke had a similar realization, and the two of you began the trek home soon after.

“That was nice,” you told him, “You should tell me about the stuff you like more often. You’re really good at explaining stuff.”

He blushed and nodded, promising that he’d try to do better with that in the future. He then asked you more about what you were studying and what your ambitions were, and listened to you talk in detail about your major. He asked a lot of questions too, and having someone seem so genuinely interested in things you cared about made you feel light.

You finally made it to your house, but upon unlocking the door realized that everyone was still asleep.

“Damn,” he said, hands on his hips, “Guess we have to entertain ourselves for a little longer.”

You nodded as he put the takeout on the counter, trying to think of what else you could do in the meantime.

“You could show me a movie you like,” he suggested, “Maybe something that’s not too scary, though.”

You giggled at him and put on Fantastic Mr. Fox since it was both wholesome and on the shorter side. You cuddled on the couch together and made it through about an hour of the film when you heard Han’s bedroom door swing open, Leia emerging in a shirt that belonged to him and nearly swallowed her whole. He appeared a few seconds later, not bothering to tell you good morning as he made a beeline for the cinnamon rolls.

“What’re you guys watching?” Leia asked, sitting on the arm of the couch, licking her thumb, and wiping something from Luke’s face.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, trying to push her away from him, “Don’t touch me with your spit. That’s repulsive.”

“You had icing on your cheek,” she said simply, looking amused.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Luke pouted in distress, turning to you.

“I didn’t notice,” you replied honestly.

“Did you guys pick these up this morning?” Han asked with his mouth full.

“Yeah, cinnamon rolls from the bakery downtown. They’re good.”

“Thanks, kid,” he said, before adding, “Did you get attacked on the way there?”

You didn’t understand what he meant at first, but when Leia covered her mouth in an effort to stifle her laughter, you knew it had to be about the two of you.

“Are you hurt?” you asked him naively.

Leia was snickering now. Luke glared at her before turning to give you a sweet smile, shaking his head.

“I’m not hurt. They’re trying to make fun of me.”

“I’m genuinely concerned for your health. Someone was trying to eat you alive,” Han remarked, taking another bite of his food.

Oh. Oh. Your face immediately flushed, and you suddenly felt trapped. Leia pulled down the collar of Luke’s borrowed sweatshirt to look at more deep bruises resting right above his collarbone, and you really wanted this conversation to be over soon.

“I didn’t notice these on the way here,” she noted, tugging his shirt a little more and wincing when she found additional hickeys.

“You were too busy talking to him,” Luke replied, reminding his sister that she was in no position to show skepticism about his romantic life, “And they’re a lot darker this morning than they were then.”

“No kidding,” she murmured, still examining his neck.

“Can you quit?” he snapped.

“Sorry, sorry. I just haven’t seen you with hickeys in forever. Thought your coach didn’t like it when you showed up with those.”

That was new information. Given his insistence last night, you had just assumed that he frequently indulged in this. Why had he begged you to leave marks if he was going to get shit for it later?

“What’s he gonna do? Not put me in the game?”

“He might threaten that, yes.”

“He won’t. They’d be fucked without me.”

“You’re so humble,” she snorted sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not trying to be a dick, but we’ll be going to the playoffs soon. He’s not gonna put in B-string for that, and he’s definitely not gonna take out his captain.“

“Who would dare punish a Skywalker?” Han murmured as he continued to demolish his cinnamon roll, “Daddy would have a pretty strong word with them if it came to that, huh?”

An emotion you couldn’t identify passed over Luke’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Han,” you warned, rubbing your temples, “Leave him alone.”

Luke smiled smugly at that, looking satisfied, and Han just scoffed and went back to eating. Leia looked at you curiously for a second, narrowing her eyes at the two of you, but ultimately said nothing. Huh.

“Well, we should head out. I’ve got a student council meeting at noon,” she said, getting up to grab a cinnamon roll for the road.

Luke sighed and squeezed your knee under the blanket you were sharing, a quiet goodbye only for you. He stood then, following his sister to the door, and gave you a cute wave paired with a smile.

“Thanks for letting us stay,” Leia said, punching Han in the arm lightly as she grabbed a napkin for her food, “See you in class.”

He only nodded, too standoffish to say anything else, and then thanked Luke again for breakfast.

“Tell Chewie we said bye!” Luke added happily, and with that, they were gone.

You and Han looked at each other for a moment, as if in a stalemate. Finally, he spoke.

“Nothing happened,” he asserted, though the faintest blush decorating his cheeks made you skeptical, “We just shared a bed. That’s it.”

“Okay.”

“You guys did too,” he continued, sounding defensive, “So don’t give me any shit, okay?”

“Okay,” you said again, but he seemed to know that you didn’t fully believe him.

“Nothing is going on between us. We barely even get along as friends.”

“Sure, I believe you.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You have a stupid look on your face. I can tell.”

You rolled your eyes and stood from the couch, not in the mood to hear him vehemently deny his building feelings for Leia.

“I’m going back to sleep. You can argue with Chewie when he gets up.”

He huffed, and then, looking at the counter, asked a question that caught you off guard.

“Hey,” he began awkwardly, not meeting your eyes, “Have you noticed anything off about him?”

“About Luke? Why?” you asked, surprised. Something about his inquiry almost seemed melancholy, and you began to wonder if Leia had mentioned something to him that you didn’t know about.

“I dunno. I just—I’m probably just looking too far into it. Never mind.”

“No,” you protested, taking a seat at the island, “Tell me.”

He sighed and pinched off a piece of his napkin, rolling the paper into a little ball and flicking it across the counter.

“Leia alluded to something when we first met him. I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but I’ve just kept thinking about it since then, and now I notice every time she seems worried about him.”

You weren’t in the mood to tease him about how in tune he was with Leia’s emotions.

“You’re worried about him,” you realized, something about Han caring enough about Luke to notice when he wasn’t feeling well making your heart swell.

“I am not,” he argued, glaring at you.

“I know what you mean, though,” you said, thinking about his words, “I think he might have some shit going on, yeah, but he doesn’t like talking about himself that much.”

“Leia really hates his friends,” he added quietly.

“That’s understandable. I’ve never seen them do anything weird to him, but I could definitely imagine that they’re not the best people to go to if you need to talk to someone.”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out or nothin’ kid. I guess maybe I was a little worried about him. Got up to piss last night and thought I heard someone cryin’ or something.”

“Oh,” you murmured, recalling Luke’s nightmare, “Yeah, but he’s alright.”

“You two didn’t get into a fight or anything, right?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his tone casual.

“No, Han,” you assured him, trying not to let your amusement at his brotherly concern shine through, “But thank you. I appreciate you checking in on us.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, gaze darting back to the countertop. You chuckled and stood, slapping his shoulder.

With that, you trekked back to your room, closing your door and collapsing onto your bed. You checked your phone then, surprised to see that Luke had already texted you.

Luke: when can i see u again?

You grinned, blushing and staring at the screen.

Things were falling into place.

[dazaih]

there will be more wingman! i’m just clumsy and got a severe injury that put me on bed rest for over a week but i’ll update regularly again soon!

[dazaih]

pleeeeeease tell me there's gonna be more wingman!!!

hi hi yes! you can read the new chapter here

[dazaih]

I started following you only 2 weeks ago but I am absolutely hooked on your wingman series!! Just wanted to let you know that your writing is really amazing!! 🫶🏾

thank you so so much :)

[dazaih]

The Wingman series has single-handedly brought back a wave of Luke Skywalker inspiration for me it’s SO GOOD orz

-gummyfang

omg that makes me so happy to hear! thanks so much :D

[dazaih]

Hey bestie xx hope you're well xx

Super excited for the new update of wingman 👀

My bestie and I are having withdrawals and hope you're feeling up for writing/posting soon xx

Anyways love fic and super excited to see moreeee

Xx

hi friend! thanks so much for your kind words! :D

wingman part 8 is now out, so sorry for the delay!

[dazaih]

LOVING wingman. can't wait for part 8! keep up the great writing :)

thanks so much! part 8 is out :)

[dazaih]

WINGMAN PART 8 IS OUT! yes i know it has been a hot minute since i’ve updated i’m so sorry :( i am in fact finishing up my degree rn and i just got fucked by midterms but i’m thankful for your patience!

[dazaih]

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can find previous chapters here

chapter eight -> when we’re alone

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: oral sex (m receiving), hickeys, making out, mentions of drinking and smoking, yearning, luke’s friends still suck

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG i have been doing midterms :( literally didn’t get any sleep until this weekend but we are so back! also had to rewrite this chapter like 4 times because i wasn’t satisfied with it. pls accept this extra long chapter (with smut) (but i’ve never written smut before so sorry if it sucks) as an apology lol

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Leia stood nervously at the microphone, the rest of her band making their way on stage to situate themselves. She pulled the microphone stand down the farthest you’d ever seen one be before, and you couldn’t help but to let out a laugh of disbelief. You turned to look at Luke, only to find him pointedly avoiding your stare, talking to Han as if nothing was off at all. However, you saw a faint smirk playing on his lips, and you instantly knew that this had been the kind of reaction he was anticipating.

“Hello,” Leia said into the microphone, posture stiff and awkward, “Thanks for coming out. We’re the Heroes of Yavin, and this is our first show.”

“Great,” you heard Han gripe, still not bothering to stand and look at the stage, “I’m sure this will be fantastic. What kind of name is that?”

Luke shrugged and laughed, not at all deterred by Han’s comments. You anxiously stared at the stage ahead, wondering what kind of music Leia Skywalker’s band could possibly be about to play. To your surprise, the song started with solely drums, and when the guitar came in, your jaw almost hit the floor.

“That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhood,” she began shakily, and you could hardly contain your excitement.

Han was still unimpressed, talking to Luke and Chewie about how horrible his workload was for next week, bored and sipping his drink casually. You didn’t want to give away the surprise, so you just continued to admire Leia in silence, tapping your fingers against your glass.

After the first verse, her posture began to relax, and she appeared to grow a little more confident.

“Rebel girl, you are the queen of my world.”

She began to move around on stage, having dismantled the mic from its stand and letting the music carry her. She sang a few more lines before finally getting to the one that you knew would catch Han’s attention.

“When she talks, I hear the revolution.”

Absentmindedly, Han glanced up at last, finally, finally realizing that none other than Leia was the one commanding the stage. His mouth fell open in shock, and you couldn’t stop yourself from cackling at him when his drink collided with the floor, having been so surprised that he loosened his grip on it entirely.

“In her kiss, I taste the revolution!” she screamed, her delivery vibrant and impressive, and you felt happy for her when the crowd lit up.

“You spilled your drink, dumbass,” you told him, the contents of his cup pooling around your feet.

“What the fuck?” he managed to utter, completely engrossed with Leia’s performance. When you didn’t say anything, he turned sharply, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you.

“Did you know about this?” he demanded, eyes blown wide.

“No, Luke didn’t tell me shit,” you assured him, looking over at the culprit, who smiled innocently at you.

Han’s focus turned to Luke, still grabbing your shoulders.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he asked in disbelief, “You really expect me to buy that her Royal Highness is prancing around on stage at a dive bar doing her best Kathleen Hanna impression? This is fucking—you guys are fucking with me.”

“Yeah, we put together this elaborate scheme where Leia pretends to be in a band just to fuck with you,” Luke snorted, taking a sip of his drink and rolling his eyes.

“Watch it, kid,” Han snapped, releasing your shoulders and fully turning his body to face the stage now. He crossed his arms, and for whatever reason he looked affronted, a scowl on his face as he glared at Leia and her band.

When she finished singing Rebel Girl, the crowd cheered her on, and you could tell that she was growing more comfortable when she turned to the guitarist and beamed at him. He gave her a small nod and began the intro for their next song, the rest of the band following. It was Celebrity Skin by Hole, which would push Leia’s vocal abilities even further, and you hardly thought twice about your health before hurrying into the crowd.

“Hey!” you heard Han shout, but you were too far, and he was the one who really couldn’t risk additional injury, so following you would be a challenge.

You were halfway through the crowd when you felt someone grab your shoulder, and when you turned, you were both surprised and delighted to see that Luke had chased after you.

“Can’t let you get hurt,” he shouted over the music, offering you a lopsided smile, “I guess you’ll have to stay by my side so no one accidentally hits your arm, yeah?”

You smiled back, and you allowed him to take the lead. He got you to the front but insisted that you stay farther to the right side of the stage so you didn’t get pulled into the mosh pit forming in the center, and you reluctantly agreed. Now, you felt like you could fully participate in the set, sharing Leia’s joy and showing her your support by drunkenly screaming the words to the songs.

By the end of the fourth song, she was clearly feeling much more confident, making the stage her own. At one point, having caught sight of you and Luke, she made her way to stand in front of you, crouching down to sing Deceptacon directly to you. You matched her energy to the best of your ability, and she grinned widely at you, standing back up and turning her attention back to moving wildly across the platform.

Luke hadn’t been kidding when he said he was going to keep you at his side. His arm was snaked around your lower waist, keeping you pressed firmly to him. You found yourself momentarily distracted by his side profile, studying him as he contently moved his head along to the music. With his free hand, he took another sip of his drink, absentmindedly licking his lips afterwards. Feeling emboldened by the alcohol in your system, you reached out and tucked a blond curl behind his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He startled a bit, having been focused on the show. When he seemed to remember where he was, he smiled, his arm tightening around you.

You spent the rest of the set like this, pressed closely to Luke’s body and finishing your drink. It was euphoric, being in his arms, and the concert itself was fantastic. You could hardly believe that it was their debut.

They finished up with About A Girl—one of Han’s personal favorites, you noted—and the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Leia was by no means your best friend or anything, but she had been nothing but kind to you, and you were so incredibly happy for her that you couldn’t stop smiling. Luke seemed excited too, if his shouts of “That’s my fucking twin!” were anything to go off of. The band finally exited and the crowd dispersed, and you slumped against Luke’s side for a minute as you tried to recompose yourself.

Your peace, of course, wouldn’t last long. With the crowd thinning out and returning to the bar for drinks, in addition to all of the attention Leia had just garnered, Luke stuck out like a sore thumb. His smile faltered a little when he clocked the approaching group of people.

“Luke!” someone hollered.

It was a woman you’d not seen before, but you did recognize the two girls next to her as the ones from earlier. Luke’s usual friends were in tow, Biggs being the only one to acknowledge you with a curt nod.

“Your sister was amazing!” she cheered excitedly, pulling Luke into a spontaneous that forced him to let go of you in order to reciprocate.

“She should sing shit that isn’t terrifying next time,” Elias weighed in, also apparently needing to put his hands on Luke as he clasped his shoulder, “But yeah, that was impressive.”

“It’s not terrifying, Elias,” one of the girls said, “You’re just scared of confident women.”

You couldn’t help it. You giggled at that, hiding your smile behind your injured hand. The girl’s eyes landed on you instantly, the rest of the group following suit. Everyone stared at you, and you felt your cheeks warm.

“Who are you?” the girl on Luke’s arm asked quizzically, “Sorry! That was a rude way of asking. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured her, offering her a small smile. You introduced yourself then with a polite wave.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Marie,” she said, smiling back at you. Elias and Biggs looked at you nervously after she spoke. The knowledge that this was the girl who had been telling people she’d slept with Luke earlier when she really hadn’t wasn’t lost on you, but you had no intention of causing a scene. Still, keeping his friends on edge wasn’t beneath you.

“Nice to meet you, Marie.”

“So, you’re friends with Luke?” she continued, likely trying to assess the relationship you had with him. Luke met your gaze then, his eyes wide as she brought her other hand up to touch his bicep. You quirked a brow at him and he looked at you, seemingly pleading for you to somehow get him out of this situation.

“Something like that,” was your vague reply. Enough to keep his friends curious, but not anything that could endanger his chances of getting laid if he so desired.

“That’s exactly what Luke said!” exclaimed one of the boys whose name you couldn’t recall. Interesting.

“Hey,” Luke tried to interject, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“What, been talkin’ about me?” you pressed, trying to conceal the small grin that was playing at your lips.

“No,” he insisted, sighing.

“Bullshit,” Elias drunkenly countered, slinging his arm around Luke, “You’re gonna have to let him hit soon. I think he might go crazy if you don’t.”

“Hey!” Luke squawked, stomping on the other man’s foot. You couldn’t even be mad, far too amused with Luke’s reaction to feel personally offended by the comments Elias had made. Elias yelped in surprise, releasing his hold on Luke and shoving him back lightly. This pushed him into Marie more, who put a hand out to stop Elias from shoving him again.

“Don’t be rough with him, Eli. He’s still recovering,” she scolded.

“Motherfucker,” Elias hissed, shaking his foot a little, as if that would relieve any of the pain, “Stop babying him. That hurt, Luke, fuck.”

“Sorry,” Luke replied sheepishly, “You were making me sound weird.”

“Didn’t realize you were going through a dry spell. You should’ve told me,” you cut in innocently, pretending to be sincere.

That earned you some laughs, but not from Marie, who still had herself wrapped around his arm. She smiled awkwardly, lips pressed together in mild irritation, and you suddenly felt a little guilty. You hadn’t meant to make it sound like you were staking a claim over him, and even if you were a tiny bit jealous, you weren’t petty enough to try to humiliate anyone else who might’ve wanted him. In trying to embarrass Luke, however, you had just given him an opening to be inappropriate again, inadvertently allowing him to regain some control over the situation.

“Is that all it would’ve taken?” he asked sweetly, slowly studying your appearance from your head to your toes, making a point to let everyone nearby know that he had no shame in his apparent desire for you, “Well, you wanna help me out then?”

Biggs rolled his eyes at that, one of the other boys giving Luke a thumbs up that almost made you break character.

“No,” you scoffed, “But we should probably go. Before Han thinks I’ve died.”

Luke, however, apparently wasn’t done trying to enact revenge against you for making him embarrassed.

“I’m sure he won’t mind if we’re gone for a few more minutes. I can be fast—“

“Luke,” you warned, meeting his challenging stare, “Behave.”

“If you talk to me like that I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Dude,” Biggs grimaced, “Chill out. Please.”

Luke only laughed, freeing himself from Marie’s hold and practically leaping towards you, grabbing on to the loose part of your jacket sleeve with one hand and giving his friends a wave with the other.

“Are you going out with us after this?” Marie asked hopefully, before turning to you, “You’re welcome to join us, of course.”

The offer surprised you, but you tried not to let it show.

“We’re gonna go to a few more bars and then go back to my place to smoke,” someone else added, “You should come, Luke.”

“Not tonight,” Luke replied with an apologetic smile, “But I’ll see you guys soon, okay? Make good choices!”

With that, he nudged you a little, urging you to lead him away. You could only obey, as you didn’t really want to stick around any longer, and you waved goodbye to the small crowd that seemed to form wherever Luke went. You scurried over to the bar to find Han and Chewie, the former sipping whiskey with a scowl etched into his features.

“What’s wrong now?” you asked, announcing your presence and sliding into the seat next to him.

Luke leaned over the back of your chair, looping his arms around you from behind. Han looked at where his wrists were loosely dangling in front of you and rolled his eyes.

“Maybe I’m just pissed that you risked your health by running into the crowd with a broken wrist,” he offered, sounding bored as he continued to glare at something across the room.

“Nah, that’s not it,” you replied dismissively.

You heard Luke giggle then, and you looked up to find him staring at the other side of the bar. There stood Leia, makeup smudged and hair full of flyaways in all of her post concert glory. She looked beautiful, but in a moderately different light than you’d ever seen her in. Next to her was her lead guitarist, who appeared to be buying her a drink. You then made the same connection Luke had moments earlier, and had to stifle your own giggle.

“Ah, I see,” you said, causing Han to finally look at you, “The woman of the hour.”

“Don’t see how any man could be brave enough to buy her a drink after that. Screamin’ and damn near breaking that microphone stand. Is that what people find attractive these days?”

He apparently didn’t realize the irony of this sentiment, nor did he explore the reasons why Leia’s guitarist buying her a drink made such an impression on him.

“Did you like the show, Han?” Luke asked innocently, but you knew better.

“Huh?” Han faltered, so focused on his glaring that such a question seemed unreasonable to him, “Sure, it was fine.”

“So you liked it?” he pressed, and before Han could reply, added, “That’s great! Leia was really nervous, so you should make sure you tell her that you enjoyed it. You know what, since she’s standing right there, I can just—“

“Kid, don’t—“

“Leia!” Luke hollered loudly, ignoring Han’s pleas.

Her face lit up instantly, and she barreled towards Luke in the blink of an eye, throwing her arms around him in an excited hug.

“You were fucking spectacular,” he praised, grabbing her shoulders and lightly shaking her, “I told you that you shouldn’t be worried. Everyone loved it.”

Han mockingly mouthed the words “fucking spectacular” to you with faux enthusiasm, punctuating his sarcasm with a long swig of his whiskey.

“Really? Do you think people liked it?” she questioned, an anxious smile on her lips.

“Of course they did,” you assured her, “I thought you were amazing, and everyone else seemed to enjoy it too.”

“Yeah, especially Han,” Luke added.

Han’s expression somehow further soured, his scowl deepening and eyes narrowing. He couldn’t hide the faint redness of his cheeks though, so he didn’t come off as nearly as intimidating as he had probably hoped for.

“Oh? Are you a fan?” Leia teased, crossing her arms and grinning smugly at him.

“No,” he snapped, “If you want me to kiss your feet and tell you that you light up the stage or some adjacent bullshit then you’re wasting your time. Luke, you and your sister can go take the piss out of someone else. The three of us are gonna go get somethin’ to eat.”

You gave Chewie a quizzical look, because you didn’t remember agreeing to go anywhere after this.

“You sure are defensive,” she pointed out, seemingly unfazed by his rude remarks.

“Where are you guys getting food?” Luke chimed in.

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. You’re both getting on my nerves, so we’ll be leaving now. Bye. See you in class.”

“Han,” you scolded, “Stop being a dick. You can be normal and tell your friend that she did a good job. The world won’t end if you’re not acting like an asshole for one night.”

Several emotions passed over Han’s face then, ranging from shock to mild irritation to full blown anger. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath to stop himself from lashing out.

“Fine,” he hissed, “I didn’t know you sang. It wasn’t awful.“

“Some compliment,” she scoffed.

“Forgive my disrespect, Your Majesty. I was blown away by your talent. A scoundrel like myself should thank God that you’ve graced me with your presence.”

“That’s more like it,” she said, slapping his shoulder, “But if you really wanted to apologize, you would invite us to dinner with you.”

He smacked her hand from his shoulder, but when he did, she leaned down and whispered something to him. His eyes darted between you and Luke for only a fraction of a second, but you instantly knew what was going on. You’d been doing it for over a month at this point, after all.

You looked over at Luke to gauge his reaction, but he was typing something on his phone. Just then, yours dinged.

luke: she’s trying to wingman for me LMAOOOO

You tried to meet his eye, but he wouldn’t reciprocate, instead biting his lip to conceal the fact that he was smiling at the screen.

you: why tf are you texting me i’m right here

luke: because if we don’t pretend to be a little awkward they won’t feel a need to put aside their differences and help us get together

luke: so don’t mention the whole thing where i was about to cum in my pants from u pulling my hair lol

Your cheeks warmed at that, and you had to lower your phone to hide your face in your hand for a second.

luke: see now ur blushing! and we’re not speaking! this is so awkward now ur so talented

you: being told i’m good at being awkward has got to be one of the worst things anyone has said to me recently

luke: nooooo i’m into it i think it’s cute

You rolled your eyes and put your phone back in your pocket, stifling a giggle at his subsequent pout.

“Okay!” Leia said suddenly, roughly clasping Han’s shoulder again.

“Can you quit that?” he winced, but when her touch lingered, he didn’t swat her away.

“New plan! We’re gonna get something to-go and head back to your place.“

“I didn’t clean,” you frowned, looking to Han for help.

“It’s fine. They aren’t royalty. They can deal with a little mess.”

You reluctantly agreed, letting Leia usher you to pay your tabs and head out. On the way, however, she stopped to talk to her guitarist.

“Leaving so soon after your big moment?” he asked coolly, giving her a small smile.

“My social battery is running low,” she replied, shaking her head and smiling back, “Can’t talk to more strangers.”

“These your friends?” he followed up.

“New friends, yes. Han and I are partners for a project right now, and these two are his roommates.”

The man seemed to contemplate this for a moment, his calm, blue eyes scanning over your group. He appeared to be studying Han, and your gaze dropped to your roommate’s hands, which were shoved into the pockets of his jacket but were undoubtedly clinched into fists behind their leather veil. He was jealous, and it was obvious to you. It must’ve been obvious to Leia’s guitarist as well, if the way his eyes lingered on the still bruised skin of Han’s jaw was anything to go by.

“Nice to meet you all,” he finally said, but his smile faltered when Leia tried to thrust a bill into his palm, “Hey, no. That one was for you, rockstar. Don’t pay me back.”

“I don’t need you to buy me drinks. You know that,” she insisted, frowning when he held up his hands so she couldn’t force him to take the money.

“Oh, I’m well aware that you don’t need handouts, Leia,” he laughed, “But I wanted to do something nice for our front woman, especially after a performance like that. Now, get outta here. I just heard Luke’s stomach growl.”

“Sorry, yeah. I’m really hungry,” Luke replied sheepishly, “But it was good seeing you. We’ll catch up another time.”

“Thanks again for the drink,” Leia called out as she and Luke led your group towards the exit.

Beside of you, Han was clearly fuming, but he was at least making an attempt to keep it from being obvious to the twins. He couldn’t exactly lash out right now anyway, because he was technically the host for your little group. You wondered if he knew why he was upset at all, but you thought it best not to ask.

Luke led you all to a late night pizza place and quickly sauntered up to the counter, talking to the workers behind it like they were lifelong friends. Luke’s kindness made you smile to yourself, and you were so distracted by him that you weren’t quite sure what Han and Leia were doing over by the claw machines lined up against the wall. You could see that they were having a conversation, which seemed to be civil, and you let out a sigh of relief. For as stubborn as Han was, he did at least listen from time to time.

Your pizzas were ready pretty quickly, and Chewie offered to help Luke carry them home while Han’s attention was on Leia. You looked back at them to see that Han was standing behind Leia now, who was trying to win something from the claw machine. They were in close proximity like this, as he reached over and pointed at which stuffed animal she should aim for, helping her line up the claw with the joystick.

“That one doesn’t look like it’ll work,” she said skeptically.

“These things were my first introduction to gambling. I know what I’m talking about,” he replied, “And this is your fifth try. Clearly you’re doing something wrong.”

She huffed and hit the red button, the claw dropping over a stuffed elephant and successfully clutching it, trapping the toy in its grasp. She slowly moved it over to the drop box, and the claw released, the toy tumbling down the chute.

“I told you,” he said smugly, reaching down and grabbing it for her.

“I’m impressed,” she admitted, looking at him in what could only be described as awe, “Thanks for helping me. That was kind of you.”

He rolled his eyes and brushed her off, saying something about how he couldn’t stand there and watch her waste her money on stupid shit.

Chewie appeared behind you then, but Luke was still at the counter, yapping to the employees. Leia noticed and shook her head, trying to conceal her smile.

“Makes friends everywhere he goes,” she mumbled, before hollering, “Luke, come on!”

Luke startled a little and whipped his head back, blushing slightly. He bid his new friends goodbye and returned to your group, a couple of more pizza boxes in hand. With that, you were ready to go, beginning your walk home with two newcomers. Han instantly pulled out a cigarette, letting it rest between his lips for a moment as he searched for his lighter. You saw Leia observing him thoughtfully for a little too long, and you were certain she was admiring him.

Han noticed too.

“What?” he asked, sounding a little offended.

Her face flushed, but as usual, she recovered quickly.

“You sure do smoke a lot,” she noted, pretending like that’s what she was so focused on.

He took a long drag out of spite, smirking at her as he did so, and then exhaled into her general direction. She scoffed, but didn’t say much else.

They were making progress.

Luke was talking Chewie’s ear off behind you, which was impressive because he wasn’t getting any verbal responses from the other man, and yet he kept finding more things to say. You weren’t really listening, instead more focused on Han and Leia and making sure that Han didn’t say anything outright offensive. It was enough to keep you busy.

You finally entered your apartment, Luke still rambling on as he put the pizzas down on the counter.

“Luke,” Leia warned, laughing softly, “Give the poor guy a break.”

Chewie shook his head, a silent way of saying it’s fine, and gave Luke a thumbs up when the other man apologized sheepishly. Because Chewie didn’t speak a whole lot, people sometimes overlooked him, or worse, infantilized him. Treating him like a person was the bare minimum, but it still made you happy to see Luke include him.

“We’re gonna smoke a little before we eat,” Han announced, Chewie presenting a pre-rolled joint to the group.

“Man,” Luke sighed in disappointment, “I would, but they drug test us for soccer pretty often.”

“What?” Han asked, looking genuinely appalled, “That’s a load of horse shit. No wonder you’re so high strung all the time.”

“I’m not high strung,” he argued, scrunching up his nose.

“I guess you’re right. That title belongs to your sister.”

Leia rolled her eyes and snatched the joint out of Chewie’s hand, making her way to your screened in porch. The two men looked on in surprise, eyebrows raised.

“Well?” she said expectantly, waving the joint with an air of sarcasm about her, “Are you coming, or am I clearing this by myself?”

Han shrugged, but beneath his facade of indifference you could tell that he was a little bit endeared by her apparent enthusiasm for weed.

“We wouldn’t make you do that alone, Princess,” he said, Chewie nodding, “Lead the way.”

With that, the three of them went out onto the porch, leaving you and Luke alone together in the kitchen.

“I didn’t take her for a stoner,” you admitted, staring at the door they’d just walked out of.

“She’s not, but she’s in a band. She’s not a stranger to it, and her tolerance for substances is pretty high in general.”

“Huh,” you mused, trying to picture the usually pristine Leia being involved in the punk scene, surrounded by substances and other illicit activities that just didn’t check out with her image. But as you’d told Han, stereotyping the Skywalkers wouldn’t do you any good.

“You didn’t have to stay in here with me,” he said, giving you a soft smile, “I don’t mind if you wanna smoke too.”

“Nah, I’d rather be in here with you.”

The words rolled off your lips so smoothly that they hardly sounded like your own, and you couldn’t deny that you felt accomplished when Luke blushed and looked down, a wide grin on his face.

“Thanks. That’s sweet,” he mumbled.

He was clearly starting to sober up a little, and seemed a bit embarrassed now. It only made you find him even more adorable, which was a sentiment you often didn’t have towards grown men, and you felt your heart clench at the realization that you only felt that way towards him. Only Luke was adorable. Only Luke was ethereal. Only Luke was worth the potential heartbreak of having a crush. You cursed yourself mentally at that last one, still trying to fight off the possibility that you possessed any real feelings for him. You studied him for a moment and realized that he was nervous about something, still looking down at his shoes.

“Was I too much tonight?” he finally asked, “I’m starting to sober up now, and I just feel like I might’ve been too much. I don’t know, I’m just—“

He cut himself off and bit his lip anxiously for a moment, sighing. His rosy cheeks, the way he his eyes were darting between you and the floor, his shy smile—you couldn’t take it anymore. You stepped closer to him, his back against the counter, and gently reached up to caress his cheek. He met your eyes and smiled at you, though he looked a little confused.

“No,” you said, brushing his bangs from his eyes, “You weren’t too much, Luke. I had a lot of fun.”

He beamed at you then, having regained some of his confidence, and let his hand rest on your waist.

“I had a lot of fun too,” he replied, his gaze falling to your lips, “Is it okay to kiss you when we’re alone?”

The weight of that question was not lost on you. This was different than drunkenly making out at a bar. You were in your home, and everyone you were supposed to be performing for was out of sight. You weren’t eager to get behind the wheel or anything of the sort, but you were sober enough to have regained some rational thought, and you knew that there was no way you could pass a decision like this off as you having been inebriated.

But you wanted to. You wanted to kiss him here, in the kitchen, with no one else to see and no place you had to go.

“I’d like that,” you confessed, and the smile he gave you was so beautiful that you nearly forgot what you had been thinking so hard about.

“Okay,” he said, looking happier than you’d ever seen him, “Just let me know if you want to stop. I really won’t mind, okay?”

You nodded, and you let yourself relax as his other hand moved to cup the back of your head, bringing your face inches within his own. His lips ghosted yours, and you could feel him grinning against you. He was too sweet. When he finally captured your lips in his own, he was in no hurry. He was slow and intentional, hands roaming your body like he had all the time in the world. You had never been kissed with such delicacy before. You had never been touched so gently.

This was more than what friends did. This was more than what two people who were just trying to set up two other people did. Even if he later tried to tell you that there was no emotion behind this kiss, you would know he was lying. You were suddenly overwhelmed with how cared about you felt in the moment, how intimate it was, and all he was doing was kissing you.

His hand rested on your lower back now, the firm pressure bringing you out of your daze a bit. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, and it made you dizzy. He changed his angle and deepened the kiss, his other hand caressing your cheek while also holding you in place. You had never trusted anyone enough to let them steer you like this, but Luke was the exception. As always.

When his hand moved down to the side of your neck, you moaned against his lips, and he pulled back for a moment to grin at you. It was ridiculously endearing.

“Yeah?” he asked in that teasing way of his, looking stupidly proud of himself.

“Just sensitive,” you murmured, cheeks undoubtedly red. He had the audacity to giggle at you, thumb stroking your jawbone in a manner that made you shiver.

“But it feels good?” he asked, though he looked like he already knew the answer.

“Everything you do feels good,” you said breathlessly. His mouth went slightly agape at that, and he shook his head, murmuring something you couldn’t quite catch. His lips were on you again in an instant, but this time he didn’t restrict himself to your mouth. Instead, he began kissing at your jaw, and when he got to the juncture between that and your neck, he gently nipped the skin there, making you gasp.

“More,” you pleaded, hand coming to grab the back of his hair and tugging lightly, earning a groan from him.

“Yes,” he groaned, breath fanning against your neck, “Yeah, baby. Anything you want. I’d do anything for you.”

You weren’t sure how much truth there was to that, but hearing him say as much made your knees weak and your heart ache. It was your first time hearing something like that. Suddenly overwhelmed by how emotional he was making you feel, you had relaxed into him, placing your head in the crook of his neck and closing your eyes. He didn’t seem too bothered by the change in pace, and instead secured his arms around you and held you flush against his chest.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, just glad to bask in the other’s presence, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“You know,” he finally said, gently combing his fingers through your hair as he spoke, “We could always lie down.”

The suggestion sounded heavenly to you. Being wrapped up in Luke Skywalker in the comfort of your sheets, your wide array of fluffy pillows supporting you—it was your idea of perfection. The mental image alone made your cheeks flush, and you lightly squeezed his shoulder with your good hand.

“That would be great,” you admitted, “But they’ve already been out there for a long time.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, pulling back from you with a newfound determination, “You can go ahead and rest. I’ll be back in a second.”

Confused but willing to listen to whatever Luke said, you made the trek to your room as he headed to the door of the screened in porch. The softness of your bed was alluring, and you decided to quickly change into some pajama shorts and a loose fitting shirt before crawling under the covers. You must have dozed off momentarily while waiting for him, because when he returned, you startled a little.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting on the edge of your bed, “Sleepy?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over you, “What’d you do?”

“Told them your head was hurting so you wanted to lie down for a minute. And that I was fine to look after you while they finished their joint. Also, Leia apparently had a blunt on her, which they’ve yet to light, so we’ve got a little while to ourselves.”

You hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted time to yourselves, time for just the two of you to be together without it being some sort of performance. Whether you wanted it to or not, that meant something to you.

You nodded, holding up the corner of your comforter to invite him underneath. He accepted with a smile, and you suddenly felt very nervous about having him in your bed like this, under the covers and lying side by side with you. You weren’t really sure what to do with your hands or how you should position your body, but Luke, of course, had the answer. On his side, he wrapped his arms around you once more and readjusted you. He was spooning you, you realized, and you instantly felt lighter in his embrace. You’d been touched by other people before, but never so tenderly, and once again your building feelings for him came into question.

You were so cozy that you nearly dozed off, but Luke shifted slightly, and the feeling of something pressing into the curve of your ass caught your attention.

“Are you—“

“You were begging me to kiss your neck,” he argued, not going to put up with you acting scandalized even for a second. He was right, you realized, and you were glad he couldn’t see you blushing.

“We can switch positions, if you want.”

“No,” you said far too quickly, not really meaning to.

He laughed behind you, and you felt his hand move down to rest on your hip.

“No?” he asked teasingly, now whispering in your ear.

“This is fine,” you murmured, slightly embarrassed, “I don’t mind.”

He giggled and gripped your hip a little harder, the action causing your breath to hitch. You remained like that for the next few minutes, Luke seeming perfectly content to fall asleep. You tried to follow his example, but you couldn’t bring yourself to relax when you could feel him pressed so firmly against you. You squirmed a little, unable to get comfortable, and you heard Luke’s sharp inhale from behind you.

“Don’t do that,” he whispered into your ear, but it sounded more like a plea than anything else.

Oh.

“Why?” you dared to ask.

He didn’t dignify that with a response, instead sighing and attempting to rest once again. Several minutes passed and you still couldn’t get comfortable, shifting again.

You heard his breath catch in his throat.

“We’re gonna have to switch places if you keep doing that,” he told you sharply.

Something about his tone rubbed you the wrong way, and before you could consider what you were doing, you suddenly turned to face him and snapped, “Do you just want me to suck your dick so you’ll chill the fuck out?”

He stared at you in utter disbelief, and you instantly regretted your words. You were about to profusely apologize before he burst out into a fit of laughter, reaching out and pulling you towards him into a hug.

“You’re great,” he said, holding you like you really meant something to him, “You don’t have to do that. I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you protested, suddenly feeling guilty, “I’m sorry. I just—I want to help. I want to do something for you.”

He pulled back and looked you in the eye, likely unable to tell if you were being serious or not, and you saw that same look from earlier pass across his features.

“You really don’t have to,” he assured you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He still didn’t look convinced, so you added, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, though—“

“I want to,” he replied, voice suddenly much airier than it was a moment ago, “Please.”

His desperation had heat pooling in your gut, and you sat up, climbing on top of him. You were careful not to put too much strain on your wrist as you supported yourself with your forearm, your good hand taking hold of his hip as you captured his mouth in a feverish kiss. He matched your fervor, rolling his hips against yours. When your hand trailed down to cup him through his slacks, he moaned quietly, hips jerking forward in a desperate plea for more.

“Fuck,” he gasped against your lips, but you barely gave him the opportunity to catch his breath, instead slipping your tongue into his mouth while your hand continued to give him friction where he needed it most. He moaned, shamelessly grinding against your palm as you muffled his whimpers with your kiss. He only grew more desperate when your lips trailed down to his jaw and then to his neck, quiet murmurs of please and swears escaping him.

“Can you—“ he tried, but cut himself off by gasping when you gripped him a little harder.

“What?” you asked against his neck, gently nipping the skin there, “If you want something, you gotta ask for it.”

He let out a breathy laugh in disbelief, screwing his eyes shut as you continued to torture him.

“Just, fuck, can you leave marks?”

You were a little surprised, especially considering the fact that he had previously advised against any indications that the two of you were this comfortable with each other, but how could you possibly deny him anything?

You obliged, sucking and biting along the side of his neck as he whined beneath you. You unbuttoned his slacks and he immediately adjusted to help you push them down to his thighs, leaving him in just his underwear.

“Take your shirt off,” you told him, silently cursing your inability to do it yourself given your injured wrist. Your mood was greatly improved, however, when he obeyed without a second thought, shrugging his sweater off and letting it hit your floor.

You sat up, looking down at his now shirtless body beneath you. You started at his neck, deep bruises already forming against his skin, and your eyes then trailed down his torso. You could see his toned chest and, of course, his defined abdomen, all the way down to his V-line. He whined a little as your eyes raked over his body, and you looked back up to see a dark crimson decorating his cheeks.

“Please,” he begged, canting his hips into nothing in a desperate attempt to get some relief. That brought your attention to his bulge, which was straining against the gray fabric of his briefs. You could hardly believe that you had Luke Skywalker begging for your mouth right now, and you reminded yourself to count your blessings later.

Deciding to tease him a bit more, you leaned forward and sucked a bruise into his collarbone, earning you a few more pleas. Your lips trailed downwards, grazing his nipple, and his entire body jerked when you mouthed at his chest.

“I can’t,” he gasped, voice breaking, “Please, baby, fuck. I need more, I’ll do anything, I’m—“

You were floored by his begging, by how desperate he sounded, and you felt your resolve crumble.

“Shh, I’ll give you what you need. It’s alright,” you said softly, moving lower and lower down his body, occasionally kissing and nipping where you pleased. When you finally made your way back to his hips, you slowly tugged his underwear down, finally allowing his cock to spring free.

Of course he had a pretty dick. Everything about him was so irritatingly perfect, so it made sense, but you’d never been so enamored by someone’s dick before. The tip was flushed, leaking with a small drop of precum, and you absentmindedly licked your lips.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, “You can’t just—“

You cut him off by experimentally flattening your tongue against the slit, tasting his precum. His reaction was strong, and he moaned more loudly this time, his hips jerking.

“Sorry,” you murmured, though you really weren’t, “Wanted to taste you.”

He only whined at that, and you decided to take pity on him and slowly take the head into your mouth, tongue swirling around it.

“Please,” he begged, and you pressed your hand into his hip bone, holding him down, “I need it. I need—“

You cut him off by taking the rest of him, bobbing your head as you took him deeper. He cried out when you pulled off, only to swallow him down again and finally let him hit the back of your throat.

“Yes,” he hissed, trying to thrust his hips up but to no avail, as you continued holding him down.

You pulled off for a moment, wrapping your hand around his length as you looked up at him.

“Behave,” you warned, and he threw his head back with a low whine.

“Okay,” he whispered, voice strained as you stroked him, “Okay, I’ll be good, just please—“

You cut him off again by licking the underside of his cock, and you could feel him struggle to refrain from thrusting into you. You took him into your mouth and down your throat once more, maintaining eye contact with him as you sucked him off. He continued to writhe beneath you, but he humored your request to stay still for the most part, biting his lip and trying not to look away.

You deep throated him like this for what felt like several minutes, keeping your steady hand on his hip. He was vocal, which should’ve been a given considering how much he loved to talk, but what surprised you most was how attractive you found it. You’d never really seen yourself as an overtly sexual person, but hearing him whine and unabashedly confess his desire for you was one of the hottest things you’d ever experienced.

“I’m close,” he warned, and something about it almost felt sweet. You pulled off with a pop, intending to catch your breath and edge him a little, but when what sounded like a choked sob escaped his lips, you knew you wouldn’t be able to deny him after this.

You slowly stroked his dick as his breathing evened out, and then met his eyes once more.

“Do you wanna fuck my mouth?” you asked, and you could’ve sworn he was about to cry.

“Please,” he said weakly, and when you nodded, he carefully slotted his fingers in your hair, “Is this okay?”

“Yes, baby,” you told him, breathe fanning across his tip, “Take what you need.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, gripping your hair tighter when you moved the hand resting on his hips to cup his balls, “Just—you can stop me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, pressing a small kiss to his tip as encouragement before taking him into your mouth again. You looked up at him, as if to tell him that it really was fine, and that was all the assurance he needed before he slowly started canting his hips upwards. He was gentle at first, clearly not wanting to hurt you, but when you swallowed around him he couldn’t help but thrust forward, pushing himself down your throat. He moaned loudly, and finally, finally he allowed himself to use you.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped, undoubtedly feeling your throat close around him, “Just like that. You take it so well. So perfect.”

The praise spurred you on, and you bobbed your head in time with his thrusts. You were surprised to feel the heat pooling in your gut as a consequence of his words, but to be fair, you’d never had someone be so kind while fucking your mouth before.

“You’re so good,” he rambled, his voice breaking around the words, “Letting me use you like this. Fuck, want you all to myself.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him groan, and even in his disheveled state, your reaction wasn’t lost on him.

“Yeah?” he asked, forcing you to take him even deeper, “You like that, baby? Like the thought of bein’ mine?”

Yes, you wanted to tell him, I don’t wanna do this with anyone else. You had to settle for moaning again, though, and you felt a few tears run down your cheeks as you gagged around him. He cursed and increased his speed a little, throwing his head back and whining.

“‘Course you do,” he continued, his movements becoming increasingly sloppy, “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum. Please let me cum, I need—“

You took him deeper, looking him in the eyes as he thrusted desperately into you, his hold on your hair growing borderline painful but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m—Please,” he cried out, and with a final snap of his hips, he spilled into your mouth.

You stayed put for a moment, letting him ride out his high, feeling his release drip down your throat. Finally, you pulled off, but not before licking his head to get a final taste of him on your tongue. He whined, hips jerking weakly, and you took pity on him, fully pulling off.

Wordlessly, you sat up and collapsed onto the bed so that you were next to him again, getting a better view of his blissful, fucked-out expression. He turned to look at you then, his eyes slightly glassy, and brought his hand to caress your cheek. He looked to be in a daze, and you suddenly felt very proud of yourself.

“Thank you,” he told you, a stupidly satisfied grin on his face, “You’re amazing.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you mumbled, hiding your face in the pillow, “I’m fine with us skipping the post oral sex small talk.”

He laughed, thumb brushing against your bottom lip as he refused to let you avoid his gaze.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in that stupidly endearing way of his, “You’re really fucking good at that.”

But am I the best? A sudden pang of jealousy struck you as you tried to shake the disgust you felt at the thought of anyone else making him moan like that. He was so sweet, so vulnerable under your touch that you had to force yourself away from thinking about how no one could possibly deserve to see him like that. You felt shame at the abrupt possessiveness that had gripped you. Luke wasn’t yours, you reminded yourself, and you had no right to be territorial over him.

“You okay?” he asked, studying your features for a sign that something was wrong.

“Yes,” you told him, feeling guilty at your thoughts, “Just a little out of it now.”

“Mm, me too,” he hummed, pulling you into his bare chest, “Can I make you cum?”

You looked up at him, his tired eyes and sluggish speech telling you all you needed to know: he was exhausted. So were you. You were overwhelmed by the urge to hold him until he fell asleep in your arms, and so you shook your head, nervously denying him.

“You sure? If you’re worried about time, I can do it fast.”

You rolled your eyes at his arrogance, smiling at him nonetheless.

“I believe you,” you teased, “But I kind of just wanted that to be about you, if that’s alright. I’m really tired now.”

He blinked at you for a moment, as if he’d never had a non transactional sexual encounter before, and he cocked his head in apparent confusion.

“Was it bad for you?” he asked, and your heart clenched at his insecurity.

“Luke, no,” you assured him, taking his face into your hands, “You’re so fucking hot, I promise. I could suck your dick all day. But I just wanted to take care of you tonight, okay? It’s okay to do that for someone every now and then.”

“I know that,” he protested weakly, blushing, “I like doing that too. Just not used to being on the receiving end, I guess.”

“So you understand why I would want to make you cum and then just hold you after, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, moving to hide his face in your neck like he was embarrassed, “But you’ll let me make you cum soon, right?”

“Yes, Luke,” you giggled, petting his hair, “If that’s something you want.”

“Think about it all the time,” he confessed tiredly, face still buried in your neck.

You were glad, because that had you blushing. Sighing contentedly, you closed your eyes, and there, in his embrace, you surrendered yourself to sleep.

[dazaih]

[dazaih]

[dazaih]

details:P

[dazaih]

rahhhh wingman pt 7 (this was supposed to be a mini series lol) is OUT ‼️

[dazaih]

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can find the previous chapters here

chapter seven -> the show

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: making out in public, drinking, sexual humor, slightly stereotypical college tropes, luke is a freak

a/n: sorry this one took so long! not super happy with it but i hope you guys enjoy anyway :p

You had returned to class a few days ago, readjusting a bit difficult after your brief absence. The ache in your ribs and inability to use your hand served as painful reminders of what had transpired that night. Han’s first day back was today, and although you thought it was far too soon, he at least would be seeing Leia in class later. Since she knew what happened, you hoped that she might be a source of comfort for him. As you left your lecture, you were pulled from your thoughts by your phone buzzing in your pocket.

Luke: heyyy! i just passed han! is he back?

You hadn’t talked to Luke since you’d essentially fondled him in your bedroom several days ago, so the text surprised you. You stared at it for a second before deciding to reply.

You: yeah it’s his first day back. hope he and leia can get along today lol

Luke: ohhhh same but i’m sure she’ll be happy to have him in class again! i think she’s missed him >:)

Luke: sooooo does that mean ur back too?

You: yes i got back a few days ago actually

There was a beat of silence, and you could see him switching between typing and not typing a few times, the three dots disappearing and reappearing in a brief cycle of apparent deliberation.

Luke: u were supposed to lmk </3 heart is broken. don’t think i’ll recover tbh

Luke either just consistently texted like a teenage girl, or he was flirting with you. Deciding to test the waters, you sent him a message back.

You: my bad my bad i’ll make it up to u babe

His response was immediate.

Luke: YOOOO

Luke: what if we get lunch like. right now. i’m on campus

You laughed, but you had to admit that having someone be so excited to see you was a good feeling. Even if your relationship was largely fabricated, Luke did seem to genuinely enjoy your company.

You: ok i’m leaving class rn. food court or dining hall?

Luke: food court ok with u? i want sushi

With that, you told him you’d meet him there, and then made your way to the agreed upon destination. You were pretty nervous about being seen with him in the food court, as it was usually pretty crowded. Still, that wasn’t a good enough reason to avoid him, so you anxiously let your feet carry you there.

Despite the density of the room, Luke was easy to spot. He stood out in any crowd, something about his demeanor incredibly radiant and eye-catching, his mere presence enough to make people turn their heads. To your surprise, he spotted you pretty quickly too, and excitedly waved you over. When he did, a few people around him glanced in your direction, their curiosity getting the better of them as they wondered whom Luke Skywalker could be so excited to see. Your face flushed.

“Hey!” he greeted you enthusiastically, standing as close to you as he possibly could without actually touching you.

“Hi,” you replied somewhat shyly, hoping the rosiness of your cheeks went unnoticed by him.

“How’s your day going?” he asked, not bothering to be subtle as he looked you over, seemingly studying every detail of your appearance.

“It’s okay. Been really tired recently, but I guess that’s to be expected,” you replied, looking down at your shoes.

You almost jumped out of your skin when he gently wedged a finger underneath your chin, nudging your face upwards so you were forced to meet his eyes. You could feel countless stares on you, and you were wondering how far Luke was willing to commit to this if he was likely driving away other potential suitors by being intimate with you in public.

“You have dark circles under your eyes,” he observed, cocking his head at you. You were puzzled.

“Uh, sorry,” you said, not really sure how you were supposed to respond, “I guess I usually wear concealer.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you should wear concealer,” he replied, giggling, “Just that you should get some rest tonight.”

“Right,” you mumbled awkwardly, the eyes of your peers burning holes into your skull, your skin searing from the red hot embarrassment of it all. You had never received so much attention in your life, and all you were doing was standing in front of the sushi counter at your school’s food court.

He ushered you towards the counter, making you order first so he could pay for it without having to put up with your protests. He also insisted on carrying it to the table for you, saying that you shouldn’t have to since your wrist was broken. You all found a seat against the wall, tucked out of the way but not fully shielded from the prying eyes of your classmates. When you were about to take a seat, Luke stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“You face the wall,” he told you knowingly, “It’ll keep your back turned towards them. I can pretend not to notice, so I’ll face this way.”

You were speechless for a moment, but you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised that he picked up on your apprehension. Luke was observant. Sitting down, you sighed, putting your head in your hands for a moment before looking back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, “I fly under the radar most of the time. It’s just new to me.”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It’s my fault for not asking if you would be okay with people ogling you while you’re trying to eat,” he replied, seemingly embarrassed.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured him, offering him a smile, “I mean, I guess I’m friends with Han, and he attracts all sorts of attention. I’ll adapt.”

Luke laughed, accepting your affirmations as some relief set into his shoulders. He relaxed a little, opening the lid on his sushi container and cracking his chopsticks apart. He sighed happily when he took the first bite, a blush creeping up on your cheeks when you recalled how him eating chocolate in your room escalated to your hands grasping his chest. That look of mischief you had become so familiar with shone in his eyes, and you immediately knew that his mind had drifted there too.

“Behave,” you warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You know that doesn’t deter me, right? I could listen to you say that over and over again. It’s hot.”

“Luke, we’re at school!” you exclaimed, his confession turning your already red face a deeper shade of crimson. You weren’t sure how much of what he was saying was true, but you couldn’t deny that you were flustered by his words.

He laughed then, bright and cheery as always, looking at you like you were the most fun he’d ever experienced. His gaze sank deeper into your skin and reached your bones, making them ache with the yearning you were starting to feel towards him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still giggling a bit, “You make it too easy.”

“Why can’t you just eat normally? Why do you have to make everyone around you wonder if you’re trying to be erotic?” you asked, rubbing your temple with your good hand before taking a bite of your own roll.

“I love food,” he replied, shrugging, “Always ate the same shit growing up, so I like having so many options now. And it’s also possible that I’m exaggerating a little bit to mess with you.”

“I figured,” you huffed, though your brain had grabbed onto something else he said, “You didn’t grow up rich?”

He paused, his chopsticks unmoving and even his chewing coming to a halt, his eyes scanning the room for a moment before falling back on you.

“No,” he muttered, voice quiet, “Damn. Didn’t even realize that I gave myself away. You’re good. Don’t tell anyone that, please.”

You had a million questions for him, your curiosity about his life increasing by the minute, but he clearly hadn’t meant to reveal that to you.

“I don’t really care,” you reassured him, pushing your questions to the back of your mind for the sake of his comfort, “You won’t believe this, but I didn’t grow up rich either.”

He laughed, relaxing again as he looked at you fondly, a bit more somber now but definitely calmer than he had been just a moment ago. He gave you a smile that told you he appreciated your willingness to move on, and you decided then that if he smiled at you like that, you were content with being patient.

“So,” he said, mischief returning to his expression, “I’ve been scheming, as you might say.”

“Oh boy,” you replied, grinning, “About our favorite couple, I’m assuming.”

“Of course,” he confirmed, leaning so that his face was closer to yours, “So, two weeks from now, there’s a concert. Local bar. Two bands are playing. That’s the type of thing you and your friends enjoy, yeah?”

“Right,” you told him, nodding, “But we couldn’t mosh or anything since my wrist is broken and Han is all sorts of fucked up, so we might not be very fun company.”

“No, that’s alright. That’s not what’s important,” he continued, “There’s a band making their debut there on that night. You can stand by the bar if you want, no pressure to go out into the crowd at all. I think you guys will enjoy it regardless.”

“I feel like you’re omitting some information,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yeah, but it’s nothing bad. And Leia will be there.”

You briefly recalled the conversation you’d had with Luke when you’d first met his friends, the mention that Leia was really into punk and alternative music surprising enough for you to note.

“I’ll do my best to get us there,” you told him.

He beamed at you, resting his chin on his hand as he mused over his plan, the details of which you weren’t privy to.

“I think it’ll put things into motion,” he said ominously, seemingly to himself.

He changed the topic after that, asking you about which movies you’d watched recently and if there was anything you thought he might like. In return, you asked him about how his recovery was going, and he told you that he would be cleared to participate in practice again soon, as his concussion had waned. You talked for the next hour, pausing every now and then to actually eat like you had intended to.

Overall, it had been a pretty good time. You were never able to shake the stares of your peers fully, but once they realized that nothing much would come of gawking at the two of you, they largely minded their own business. You bid him farewell and thanked him for the food, promising to see him again soon.

When you got back to your apartment, Chewie had started making dinner. Meatloaf, it looked like. You helped out where you could, though your injury made it more challenging than you would’ve liked. You were anticipating Han’s arrival any second now, but you were left in waiting. As the minutes ticked by and eventually reached an hour, you grew anxious. Finally, you decided to call.

“What?” he answered after the third ring, voice a whisper.

“Where are you?” you replied, ignoring his abrasive tone. That was just Han.

“Library with Leia. I got really pissed off in class today because I didn’t know what was goin’ on, so now we’re here.”

“Oh,” you said, a bit dumbfounded by this information, “Well, Chewie made meatloaf. You should ask her if she wants to stop by for dinner.”

You heard him mumbling, likely inviting Leia over, and then you could vaguely hear her voice too.

“She has to go to practice after this,” he told you, sounding bored.

“Practice? For what?”

“Geez, I don’t know, kid. I’m not gonna sit here and interrogate her. I’ll be home later, alright? We can watch somethin’ on TV.”

“Okay,” you murmured, not really sure what else to say to that.

He muttered a quick goodbye to you and hung up. Without thinking twice about it, you immediately texted Luke.

You: they’re at the library together right now…

You explained the situation to Chewie as fixed some asparagus to go with your meal, telling him about the show in two weeks and asking if he’d be interested. He nodded, an amused expression on his face as he continued to cook. A few minutes later, you got a text back from Luke.

Luke: no wayyyyy they’re evolving

Luke: ask him about the show when he gets back!

You weren’t sure what was up with Luke’s insistence, especially considering how the last show went for you all, but you shrugged it off.

You supposed you’d find out soon enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn’t seen Luke any since lunch that day, but you’d texted him a few times over the past two weeks. You all didn’t say anything of much importance to each other, nor did you talk very frequently, but it was nice to know that he hadn’t completely forgotten about you as his practice schedule picked up again and he resumed his normal life.

Han hadn’t needed much convincing to go to the show, as he hadn’t been out on the town since the incident. You had told him Leia would be there, so when he came out of his room dressed in his nice brown coat instead of the Carhartt again, you mentally cheered. Maybe he cared about looking nice for her after all.

“You look good,” you told him. The bruises on his face had healed some in the past several days, and he was starting to look a little more like himself again. It was refreshing.

“I know,” he replied smugly, seemingly excited to feel a bit more normal—well, as excited as Han could seem to be.

Chewie stood by the doorway, scrolling on his phone. He was wearing a beanie this time with his long hair down, glasses perched on his nose and a blue flannel tucked into his black jeans.

“And so do you!” you cheered, walking over to Chewie and smoothing out his eyebrows with your thumb. Unlike Han, he didn’t make much of a fuss when you tried to detail his appearance, allowing you to exercise your cosmetic expertise to your heart’s content. He rolled his eyes and smiled at you, gesturing to your outfit and giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you said, understanding his meaning immediately. He thought you looked nice too.

“Yeah, not horrible,” Han added, glancing over your outfit. It was one of your favorites, teetering the line between your casual attire and something a bit nicer. You wore Han’s black coat, as it was slightly baggier than your own, concealing your cast pretty well. You didn’t want people walking on eggshells around you all night because you were hurt.

With that, the three of you departed, your walk downtown leisurely as Han and Chewie split a cigarette. You were in a good mood, glad that the three of you were going out again. It’s also possible that you were a little bit excited to see Luke too.

When you all walked into the bar, you felt at ease. These types of venues were what you were used to, classic college bars with live music. Before bothering to find Luke and Leia, sure that they were likely in the company of others and wouldn’t be bothered by your absence, you went on a quest for drinks. You would probably have to hang out near the back anyway due to your injuries, so being leaned up against the bar didn’t seem like that bad of a call. You ordered something strong and sipped your drink peacefully, taking in the atmosphere and anticipating the band’s performance.

“We oughta take a shot,” Han mumbled to you, “Whiskey.”

You laughed and agreed, knowing that being a little tipsier would help you relax. After the shot and downing your first drink, you moved onto a second, you and Han talking and in your own little world. It was then that you looked across the room and saw a tighter crowd of people, and you instantly knew that Luke had to be the center. Han noticed too, and the two of you watched as you caught glimpses of him every now and then. Unusually, he wore all dark colors today, his sweater a dark gray and his pants black, beat up converse on his feet. He was drunk of course, hand clutched around a drink you couldn’t quite identify. You watched as a girl placed her hand on his chin, appearing to look at the fresh scar under his lip. He was relatively nonreactive, politely smiling at her and probably answering questions about his injuries. To your surprise, though, he never put his hands on her, nor did he lean into her touch.

“Gonna handle that?” Han asked you, taking another sip of his drink and watching the scene before him unfold.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said simply, though you did take some joy in the fact that Luke didn’t seem to be reciprocating her advances.

“You’re staring daggers into that girl’s head.”

“I am not,” you insisted, downing the rest of your drink and ordering another.

“Sure, kid,” he said dismissively, “Didn’t take you for the jealous type.”

Before you could defend yourself, Luke met your eyes. His smile widened, he appeared to apologize to the girl he was talking to, and he immediately departed from the group that had crowded around him. They watched him go curiously, slowly trailing as to not give themselves away as being dependent on his presence, but you tried to pay them little attention.

“Hey!” he greeted you excitedly, putting his drink down next to you and pulling you into a hug. You squawked in surprise, but eventually wrapped your arms around him as well, returning his affection.

He didn’t let go of you for what felt like an awkwardly long time, and you made eye contact with Han in a silent plea for advice. He rolled his eyes at you and shook his head, the smallest of grins playing at his lips.

“Missed you,” Luke drunkenly confessed as he pulled away, though his hands had dropped to your waist, “I’ve been waiting for you to get here all night.”

You were stunned into silence for a moment before finally swallowing hard, mustering the courage to speak.

“It’s good to see you,” you told him awkwardly, his hands on you making your heart rate accelerate more than you liked to admit, “You look really good in black.”

He beamed at you, his cheeks flushing a little under the vibrant lighting of the venue, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You think so?” he asked teasingly, leaning into you as he spoke.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you told him lightheartedly, “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough. Wanna take a shot with me? Or a shooter? I’ll pay, of course.”

“You really have to stop buying me things.”

“Nah. I like buying you things,” he countered, grinning as he ordered you a drink.

He had ordered you green tea shooters, which you’d never had before but sounded so much like something he would enjoy that you were eager to partake. Before you knew what was happening, he gripped your chin and tilted your head back a bit, the glass of the shooter pressing against your lips.

“Open,” he told you, his confidence that you’d do whatever he asked almost making your knees buckle. You did, the alcohol slipping past your lips and going straight to your head—or maybe the way Luke was looking at you was the cause for your drunkenness, you weren’t sure. Both were likely explanations.

Luke didn’t give you the chance to pull the same maneuver on him, quickly downing his shooter and smiling innocently at you. In the meantime, Chewie had appeared at the bar, presumably to distract Han from Luke’s hands on you. When he gave you a brief look, you knew your assumption had been correct, and he smiled and rolled his eyes at you when you mouthed a quick thank you to him.

“Wanna stand in the back? Close to the bar but still in the crowd. No one should shove us there,” he proposed, seemingly also at least somewhat aware of Han’s guard being up around him.

You nodded, following him into the back of the crowd and finding a good window between some of the taller individuals to get a pretty solid view of the stage, especially considering where you were standing. You had taken your regular drinks along with you, and you sipped yours as casually as you could, knowing that a lot of eyes were on you despite your position at the back of the crowd.

“Will Han kill me if I make out with you in front of everyone tonight?” he asked you, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide from the alcohol. You nearly choked on your drink, and you had to take a deep breath to stabilize yourself before you could manage a reply.

“That’s—Are you sure you want to do that?”

“What?” he said, laughing at your question, “Why wouldn’t I? Are you sick or something?”

Thoughts swirled around your mind, bouncing off every corner of your skull and almost making your head hurt in the process. Everyone in this venue wants to make out with you. You could have any one of them. If it’s me, you’ll sabotage your chances of finding someone you really like to take home tonight. You didn’t say any of it, because you didn’t want to make him feel even less like a person than he probably already did.

“Just wanted to make sure,” you murmured quietly, looking down. He gently hooked his finger under your chin and pushed upwards, forcing you to meet his eyes. No matter how many times he did this, you always blushed.

“Hey, if you’re more private about that sort of stuff, it’s totally fine. I’m not here to push you into situations that make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to kiss at all.”

Reassessing your comfort was the bare minimum, but it made you feel warm nonetheless. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward and let your head drop to rest on his shoulder, sighing. You heard him chuckle lightly at that, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, your face still buried into the crook of his neck.

“Or you can just do that, I guess,” he remarked, sounding amused.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to so many people looking at me. But you’re so nice, and I wanna be close to you still. Just hiding for a second. You smell really good, by the way.”

He laughed again, hugging you a little tighter, cautious to not spill his drink or injure your wrist.

“You’re drunk,” he told you, and you felt him sigh when you smiled into the side of his neck.

“So are you.”

“Well, yeah,” he replied, giggling again, "But I’ve just never seen you be like, expressive when you’re drinking. I like it. Tell me more about what you like about me.”

It was your turn to laugh, Luke’s lack of subtly entertaining to you.

“Do you have any shame?” you teased.

“About some stuff, sure. But not about this.”

“Well, you know I like your abs.”

“And my chest, apparently.”

“Hey. You enjoyed that.”

“Never said I didn’t. Wanna do it again right now?”

“Luke!” you exclaimed in a fit of drunken giggles, pulling away to lightly smack his arm. He smiled at you and took another sip of his drink.

“So, what else do you like about me?” he pried, and you rolled your eyes at him before stepping closer once more.

“You’ll find out. Be patient,” you told him, your own touch of mischief seeping into your voice. He smiled at you, right hand dropping to your waist and pulling you closer, left hand tossing his drink back and finishing the rest of it in a single go. You mimicked his actions, finishing your own beverage and meeting his eyes. Just then, the first band emerged, and you turned towards the stage while Luke placed his hand on your lower back.

“We can get another drink in the middle of the set, if you want,” he said, pulling you flush against his side as the band started to play, “But I’m kind of drunk right now, so I need a second.”

You laughed and nodded at him, and pretty soon your attention shifted towards the talented musicians on stage. Since you couldn’t be in the front, you had to settle on gently swaying and nodding your head rather than something more exciting. This band had more of an indie rock vibe, so there wasn’t a ton of moshing to be done anyway. You hoped Han wasn’t feeling left out, but you were confident that Chewie would stay by his side while you were gone.

You were so inebriated that you barely noticed Luke’s friends circling around you, with the addition of a few strangers as well. You only realized how many eyes were on you when Biggs clasped a hand around Luke’s shoulder, making him jump a little. Without thinking, you gently smoothed his sweater down over his bicep, hoping the gesture provided him with a small bit of comfort. He looked over at you and smiled before quickly turning his attention back to Biggs.

“Why’re you all the way back here?” Biggs asked him, seemingly pretty drunk himself.

“He’s injured, Biggs,” a girl you didn’t recognize interjected, stepping closer.

“Can’t believe you even came out tonight, Luke. I mean, I’m glad you’re here and all, but what if you get hurt again?” her friend added, joining her in crowding close to Luke.

“I’ve got a personal investment in the next band,” he said simply, offering the group standing in front of him a perfect smile.

“What, you fuckin’ the drummer or something?” Elias replied, and you had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I think their drummer is a dude,” one of his other friends pointed out.

“So? You think that’s gonna stop Luke? He’ll fuck anything that moves—“

“Cut it out, Eli,” the girl from before said, placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder, “That’s not true. Don’t be mean to him.”

Luke laughed, but you watched him tense as the stranger’s hand stayed put on his body.

“Oh, fuck off. You guys were literally calling him—“

“Shut up!”

“Calling me what?” Luke interrupted curiously, tilting his head and looking at the girls in front of him with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Luke,” she said, hand still on his on his shoulder, “You know our friend Marie. We were just talking about when you guys got together, and—“

“Marie’s been telling all of her friends that you’re easy, dude,” his friend interjected, cutting her off.

“It’s not like that,” she protested, bringing her hand up to the side of his neck and moving to cup his cheek, “We don’t think you’re easy, Luke.”

“I don’t really get what you’re trying to say,” he murmured, brows furrowed, “Sorry. I’m a little drunk.”

She cooed at him and you wanted to throw up in your mouth. Or on her. Either would do.

“It’s okay. We can just drop it and get another drink,” she told him, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear and giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. She was a beautiful woman, so it was really a shame that she was acting so creepy.

“They were calling you a slut earlier, man,” Biggs finally said, frowning, “Sorry. Just thought you should know. Marie and a bunch of her friends were over there talking about you.”

“That is not what happened,” she said, placing her other hand on Luke’s face, effectively forcing him to look only at her, “Luke, I promise that I would never—“

When you saw Luke tense further and his eyes widen, you’d had enough. You could put up with other people flirting with him—he wasn’t your boyfriend, after all—but making him uncomfortable was a separate ordeal entirely. You rolled your eyes, reached over, and grabbed her wrists, making use of the weight of your cast to push her arms down and away from his face. You stepped in between them then, giving Luke some space away from her.

“I’m tired of listening to this,” you announced, speaking for the first time since the whole situation had started transpiring, “This entire conversation is stupid.”

You didn’t feel the need to further elaborate, nor did you have any interest in personally shaming the girls, instead taking Luke’s hand in your own and tangling your fingers together, walking off towards the bar. He went happily, giving the group a small wave and a smile as you pulled him away. You didn’t bother looking back at any of them, your focus just on getting Luke out of that situation. When you reached the bar, Han gave you a quizzical look, but you just shook your head and mouthed not now.

“My knight in shining armor,” Luke said, leaning against the bar with you and keeping your hands entwined.

“They sound like they’re in high school. I don’t know how you manage to be nice to people like that.”

“What I do reflects on my parents,” he replied with a shrug, “Seriously though, thank you. That wasn’t a very fun interaction for me.”

“Sorry for just pulling you out of there without even asking,” you murmured sheepishly, cheeks a bit red, “I was just annoyed, and you looked uncomfortable.”

“What? Don’t apologize. You can take me wherever you want, but that’s especially true in cases where someone is grabbing my face and trying to convince me that they weren’t calling me slutty thirty minutes ago.”

Thinking about it made you irritated all over again, and it must’ve shown on your face, because Luke spoke again.

“Just so you know, I really don’t sleep around as much as people say, and since we’ve started this whole thing between us I haven’t been seeing anyone, and I never even slept with Marie—most I’ve done is kiss her at a club, and when I do sleep with people I’m super safe, I get tested regularly, and—“

“Woah, hey,” you interrupted him, gently grabbing his shoulders, “What are you saying?”

“Well, you looked upset when they were talking about that stuff, and I just didn’t want you to think that I was like, I don’t know, a womanizer, or someone who only cares about sex, or some kind of pervert—“

“Luke, that’s not—I was upset because they were objectifying you and making you uncomfortable. You know I’m not judging you, right? You seriously don’t have to explain yourself to me. I trust you and what you choose to tell me is your business. I don’t care about rumors or whatever, alright?”

He stared at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. You couldn’t read his face, and you were about to ask him if he was okay before he started talking again.

“Thank you,” he told you, voice soft as his hands came to rest on your waist once again, “That means a lot to me. I want to say more, but I don’t think I can articulate it very well right now. Just—thank you.”

“It’s just basic respect, dude,” you replied dismissively, blushing a little, “No big deal.”

“Well, I’m not used to that, I guess. And don’t call me dude when I’m touching your hips.”

You laughed, your arms having wrapped around the back of his neck as he pulled you closer.

“I thought this was just you being friendly,” you teased, grinning at him.

“Seems like I’ve given you the wrong idea, ‘cause I’m really not trying to be friendly with you. Like, at all.”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in your system, how protective you felt over him at the moment, or how he was looking at you, but you were curious to see if things would escalate between the two of you tonight. So, without second guessing yourself, you leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“Maybe you should give me the right idea, then.”

Something changed in his expression, and before you knew what was happening, he was leading you through the crowd, and you were embraced by the loud music once more.

“Hey, my wrist is still broken, so I really shouldn’t be dancing—“

His course deviated then, and you suddenly realized that he had taken you towards the wall. You were out of direct contact with the crowd, but they still danced around you, shielding you from prying eyes. This was still very much public, but certainly more private than before. His hands returned to your waist as he leaned forward, lips now next to your ear.

“Can I show you?” he asked, voice lower and breathier than you’d ever heard it, “Just tell me what you’re comfortable with, and I’ll show you that I’m not trying to be friends. Fuck, please let me show you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you brought your good hand to rest on the back of his head, trying to ground yourself.

“Yeah,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair, “I’ll stop you if you go too far.”

He had backed you all the way against the wall now, his hand coming up to caress your face as he leaned closer. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath fanning against your lips, his thumb gently tracing your jaw as he inched forward. You almost passed out when you met his stare, his eyes filled with what you could only describe as desire. He looked at you for confirmation one more time, and when you offered him a small nod, his lips were on yours in an instant.

You had suspected all along that he would be a good kisser, but thinking that and experiencing it were very different. He started out relatively slowly, but you wanted to prove to him that you could match his pace, so you lightly tugged his hair to deepen the kiss. You were surprised when he faltered a bit, having to brace himself against the wall and pull away for a second.

“God, fuck,” he groaned, voice strained, “If you do that again, I might embarrass myself.”

You were too curious to find out what that could mean to stop yourself from pulling him forward and capturing his lips in your own once more, savoring the taste of him on your tongue for a second before tugging his hair again, this time a bit harder.

His reaction was immediate. He moaned into your mouth, left hand still holding your jaw and right hand now falling to firmly grab your ass, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepened further, and your grip on his hair tightened the second you felt his tongue.

You hadn’t made out with someone so passionately in a long time, and you certainly hadn’t ever imagined yourself doing it so publicly. And yet, here you were, letting Luke Skywalker shove you against the wall and fuck his tongue into your mouth.

“I’m sorry, fuck—“ he gasped against your lips. You weren’t sure what he meant until you felt him rock forward, something solid pressing into you. You suddenly realized that this part at least had to be real, and the knowledge that you had made Luke hard had you floating. With him against you like this, you decided to experimentally pull his hair again. He moaned, this time loudly enough for you to catch the wandering eyes of a few people standing nearby, but he paid them no mind, instead squeezing your ass harder and trying to bring you even closer.

“Luke,” you warned, breath hot against his ear as he moved to bury his face into the side of your neck, “Luke, we’re in public. People are staring.”

“People always stare. Doesn’t matter,” he protested, starting to kiss your jaw, “I’d go down on you right here, I don’t care—“

“Luke!” you gasped, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a bit, putting some space between you, “You’re drunk. I don’t want you to be embarrassed tomorrow or something, okay?”

“Embarrassed,” he repeated, like it was his first time ever hearing that word, “No way. I’d let you do anything to me. Anywhere.”

“You can’t be serious,” you replied, laughing at how ridiculous he was, heart hammering in your chest, “You’ve had a lot to drink—“

“You think I only want you like this because I’m drunk?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear as his eyes bore into yours, reading you so intensely that you felt dizzy.

“I mean…maybe? I don’t know. I’m just confused, I guess. Like, we aren’t—you and I aren’t really together, you know?”

You didn’t understand why, but you were certain that hurt flashed across his face for a second before he recovered, biting his lip and looking down at his feet, nodding.

“Yeah, I know that,” he murmured, his tone unreadable to you as he looked back up, “Doesn’t mean I’m only making out with you because I’m drunk, though. I wanted to do this in your bedroom, remember? Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean I don’t want you. I do. A lot. Like, all the time. I thought that was obvious.”

“Are you being serious?” you asked, emphasizing your bewilderment with a drunken hiccup.

“Are you? You can feel my dick right now, can’t you? If you can’t, that’s a bit of a blow to my ego—“

“Don’t be a smart ass,” you scoffed, giving him a lighthearted shove, earning a chuckle from him, “I meant that you’re beautiful. Like, ethereally beautiful. I’m just a little surprised to learn that you’re attracted to me. I wasn’t trying to insult the size of your dick.”

You had meant the last part as a joke, but when his eyes widened as a deep crimson bloomed across his cheeks, you started to panic.

“Hey, I’m not actually trying to imply anything about your dick. It seems big, from what I can tell, and—“

He was giggling now, still blushing as he shook his head at you in disbelief.

“I was just joking about that,” he insisted.

“Well, you looked offended,” you mumbled, crossing your arms.

“I’m not offended. I’m just—you can’t just call someone ethereal and expect them to instantly recover. It caught me off guard.”

“Oh, fuck off. You know you’re breathtaking in every sense of the word. I’m not the first person to tell you that.”

He awkwardly looked to the side, nervously chewing his lip, and shrugged a little. You were shocked by the realization that he was embarrassed—not by grinding on you and moaning like a porn star in public, no, but because you had called him beautiful.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes wide, “You’re embarrassed. No way. I thought Luke Skywalker didn’t get embarrassed?”

“Shut up,” he murmured, leaning forward and hiding his face in your neck, “You’re such an asshole.”

“You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe that this is where you draw the line. People are practically throwing themselves at you all the time. How could you not be used to hearing you’re attractive?”

“That’s not what you said,” he argued, and you were so thoroughly entertained by the slight pout in his voice, “You called me other stuff. Like, poetic shit. People don’t just say that to each other.”

“Yeah?” you asked teasingly, relishing in the fact that you had him stumbling over his words for a change, “Can’t handle me telling you how beautiful you are?”

“If you’re trying to get me to stop begging to fuck you in public, you’re going about it the wrong way,” he murmured against your neck.

“If it weren’t for the fact that your sister would kill you, then I’d consider it.”

He suddenly stood up then, as if he had just had some stellar epiphany. Alert with wide eyes, he glanced back at the band, their set seemingly coming to a close, and his lips curled up into a wide grin.

“I’m gonna buy us a round before the next band,” he announced, abruptly pulling away from you and offering you his hand.

You were confused, but tangled your fingers together anyway, allowing him to lead you back to the bar. Ignoring the prying eyes of others was much easier when you were inebriated, but conversely, people were a lot less subtle with their staring when they were drunk. You continued to try to pay them no mind, but now you had to wonder how many people had seen Luke shove you up against the wall and make out with you like it was his sworn duty.

When you reached the bar this time, Luke immediately made conversation with Han and greeted Chewie, asking all sorts of small talk questions that you didn’t really see the point of. Han indulged him, though it could’ve been for your sake, you weren’t sure, and gave a few answers that were at least mildly interesting. That suggested to you that Han didn’t see your public display of affection just a moment ago, and you relaxed a little. Luke then ordered drinks for the four of you, and it seemed that everyone was a bit far gone. You briefly wondered where Leia was, but figured she probably did have her own friends to hang out with.

“Where’s your royal pain in the ass sister?” Han asked right on cue, trying to sound disinterested.

“She’ll be around in a few minutes,” Luke replied, and you knew the look in his eye well by now.

You were dying to know what his plan was, but you stayed silent, not wanting to give your scheming up to Han.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to wait long, catching sight of her at a distance, a long, flowing skirt coming down to her boots and a leather jacket resting on her shoulders. Her shirt was cropped, which seemed slightly unusual for her given what you knew about her style, and her hair was in two long Dutch braids. She looked beautiful, which was no surprise, of course.

What was shocking, however, was that she was on stage.