Getting A Note On A Super Old Post

Adding my own favorite fictional men to the tags

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

I'm imagining afterglow Luke and omg he's so sweet and beautiful 🥺

anon, i’m gonna do you one better: imagine it’s the very first time you’re seeing him like this. the “grand finale” has occurred, you’re both lying there staring at the ceiling and panting as though you just tried outrunning a herd of fathiers. it was messy, it was clumsy, and it might have ended just a little too soon-but you loved every second of it. you can hardly believe it happened-with him. and as you look over to gauge his reaction, it seems luke can’t either.

he roughly runs a hand through his hair, blinking rapidly, and starts giggling. it’s the sort of giggle that spills out like a gush of spring water, almost effortless and full of ebullient joy. he cracks a toothy grin. “…wow,” he says somewhat hoarsely, cheeks a healthy shade of pink. “that was…” briefly he covers his face with both hands, searching for a word that apparently doesn’t materialize. “wow.”

“yeah,” you agree, turning on your side to really drink him in. luke mirrors your movements, forming his bent arm into a makeshift pillow. the gazes lock, hold, and you let your eyes travel along the body that’s no longer a mystery. in a little while, when you return to your quarters and your lonely bunk, you’ll ruminate on the exact taste of his salty sweat; the veins in his magnificent large hands; the wild, desperate look in his eyes as you fumbled with each other’s clothes; the sounds he’d made during the act, those shaky breaths and whimpers, the low moans and pleading that sent shock waves right to your center.

but for now, this is enough. to lie together companionably and enjoy the afterglow of it all, bask in the warmth of luke’s slightly tanned skin and the affectionate way he studies you. “you alright?” he asks, snuggling a bit closer.

“oh, i’m fine,” you hum, leaning in so that your noses practically touch.

“was it good?”

“you were wonderful. really.”

maker, he’s beautiful when he smiles. “so were you.” quick as hyperspace he plants a kiss on your parted lips. “really.”

shaking your head, you chase after the promise of another anointing from that sweet mouth and insist “luke, you’re too nice to me.”

he happily gives it to you and replies, “this is ‘being too nice,’ huh? well…i guess i’ll just have to keep doing it until you believe you deserve it. you free tomorrow night?”

you frame his impish face between your palms and bestow loud, smacking kisses on every part until he’s laughing and squirming against you. sometimes it still feels like a dream, his choosing you. “i think my schedule just magically cleared up.”

It's over before it begins.

You're so used to being unloved that you don't know how to be loved. You don't know what it means when he says I love you, his eyes containing galaxies and his pupils contracting. He's the universe and magic and still human, blood running to his cheeks.

You were leaving, and yet you can't break off from the universe, so you cannot really ever leave. The colour of his cheeks is the sun, and you're a planet rotating him.

His hand – human, part machine, all him – reaches to yours.

I am choosing to love you.

It was over before it even begun. His ocean eyes were your home and you drowned and woke up simultaneously.

The finished product

Uhm, would it be possible to do a letter from both Luke Skywalker and Din Djarin? Like not at the same time but a romantic one where the reader is in a polygamous relationship with both of them for your 1200 follower celebration? If not a romantic one with Luke is just fine. Something sweet, lots of pet names maybe spicy but not a necessity. I’m 24 but I don’t know if you can tell by my blog. If you can’t like I said spicy isn’t necessary. I work in a care home for the mentally disabled helping care for people who can’t care for themselves and when I’m home I work on a novel I’m writing. I’d love if either of those could be mentioned in it. I don’t really have anything specific in mind other than maybe mentioning my hobby of painting landscapes. Maybe I painted Luke or Din one in it? I dunno.

This was an interesting idea so I came up with a bit of a twist on my original idea. Instead of a written letter, let’s say Luke was recording a message for you and Din just couldn’t stay silent and had to chime in. They’re on a mission together for the New Republic…

Luke: waving to the camera Hi love! We hope you’re doing good at home. This mission is off to an interesting start.

Din: leaning into view with a sigh If by interesting you mean we got lost and almost crashed, then yeah, it’s been interesting.

Luke: pushes Din lightly Now, now, don’t upset our sweetheart, we’re all fine, totally fine. Things might not have started well but they’re on track now. 

Din: skeptical huff

Luke: sheepish smile So anyway, love, we’re here and we’re good, but we miss you very much. I hope your work isn’t too stressful today. You’re so kind and you take such good care of the people there.

Din: They’re lucky to have you, cyar’ika. He nods to emphasize his statement

Luke: all smiles Yes, just like we are. 

Din: Just remember to take care of yourself too. We don’t want you to wear yourself out.

Luke: Yes, maybe take some time to do some painting, it always seems to relax you. And you know how much I’m looking forward to seeing that one with Din and me that you’ve been working on.

Din: You’re very talented, cyar’ika.

Luke: You’re incredible, sweetheart, we both appreciate seeing the art you create. He shivers a bit It’s getting a little chilly here, I wish you could be here for cuddles. I guess I’ll just have to make do with our tin can man here.

Din: does his oh really? helmet tilt I’ll make us a fire, I wouldn’t want your little butt to freeze. He chuckles and looks at the camera I wish you were here too, cyar’ika, you’re much softer and you smell the best out of all three of us. 

Luke: sticks his tongue out at Din and starts a fire with his lightsaber 

Din: laughs Well, look at that, our Jedi has many tricks up his sleeve. You don’t have to worry, cyar’ika, we won’t be too cold without you, but we will miss you like crazy.  

Luke: softly smiling we’ll be home soon, sweetheart but until then remember how much I love you.

Din: I love you too, cyar’ika, with all my heart.

They cuddle up together by the fire and wave at you

Send in an ask for Wiggles' 1200 Follower Celebration

This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years. 

If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life. 

Texas Sunsets

A Luke x Reader fic

Summary: Late Summer, 1855. Three months ago you left Chicago for Texas in the middle of the night to escape an arranged marriage to a man you knew was a murderer. After getting there you nearly drown in the river and are rescued by a handsome stranger, the only problem? You have no where to go, the Inn’s full, and no one around town is taking in strangers. The only way you can have a roof over your head that your religion and pride will allow is to marry this stranger. The very thing you were running away from. What’s a girl to do?

A/N: I know this isn’t the same Luke x Reader fic I was working on, but it’s after the holidays and I’m currently in a creative rut with that one so since I had the inspiration to do this one here it is! I honestly cannot think of any warnings for this, so if I need any just let me know what they are in the comments. Not sure if this will be 18+ or not yet, we’ll see when we get there.

Chapter 1

You barely notice it, the cold, the wet. When you look back, hours, days, and eventually many, many years later, you don’t even think you realized you were in the river itself. Just in awe of the deep, endless blue around you. Bubbles glistening like stars. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew what had happened. Striker, your horse had been grabbed by a gator while crossing a river and you’d fallen in, likely to be the meal of another, but right now all you saw was endless blue.

Then you noticed the burning in your lungs. You tried to gasp for air only for water to fill them. You kick and flail, never learnt how to swim. Mother always said a lady had no business in the water. You desperately regret taking that lesson to heart out of all the others you ignored.

This is it, you’re going to die here. Here in this god forsaken river. Freedom had been so close, so so close. You’d fought so hard to escape, dressed as a man, stole Striker from the stables in the middle of the night, made it from Chicago to Texas, sure you didn’t know what you were going to do once you made it to freedom, but anything was better than what that bastard had planned for you.

The next thing you knew, arms, scrawny, but sturdy, were wrapped around you, hauling you to the surface. You gasp for air as you break the surface, your long hair clinging to your face and neck, having come free from where you’d kept it under a hat. Those arms are still wrapped around you, hauling you towards the banks. Soon you’re gently placed in the mud, coughing and sputtering.

“What were you thinking?!” A voice asks as you empty half the river from your lungs.

You spare a glance in the direction of the voice. A man had pulled you from the river, a young one. Can’t be more than twenty, so younger than you, though not by much. He’s good looking, sunkissed skin, blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, bluer than the sky, than the river he just pulled you from. A shade you don’t think you’ve ever seen on another human being, much less any animal or plant.

He’s sopping wet too, and clearly displeased. On instinct you reach for your father’s pistol.

“Everyone round here knows better than to cross that river this time of year. Now’s when the gators are grabbing their last meals before the winter.” The stranger continues.

“Then what the hell were you doing jumping in after me?!” You yell, dropping your hand from the gun.

“Well I couldn’t just leave you there could I?” He asks.

“What do you want?” You growl. “I ain’t got money, and you try touching me you’ll be a dead man before you can blink.”

“First of all,” the stranger starts. “I don’t want nothing, just couldn’t leave you to drown s’all.”

You glower at him, doubtful.

“Second,” he continues. “I thought you were a man when I dove in after you, so no thoughts of that even crossed my mind.”

He sighs and offers you a hand up.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He says. “Name’s Luke, Luke Skywalker, what’s yours?”

You bat away his hand and push yourself up. Nearly drowning must have shaken you more than you thought though because your legs are wobblier than a newborn fawns. You nearly tumble to the ground and it’s only Skywalker’s broad chest that keeps you from coming face first with the mud.

“Get offa me!” You complain as you feel his arms hold you upright. His hands, at least, don’t wander anywhere inappropriate while he keeps you on your feet.

“You’re shakier than a newborn calf,” He says, “if I let go you’re gonna end up right back in the mud. Stop being stubborn.”

You huff. He’s right, as much as it pains you to admit. Besides, it’s not the worst thing in the world, being held in the arms of a handsome young man. Not the worst feeling either, despite how wet and uncomfortable it is from your trip into the river.

“What’s a young lady like yourself doing out here all alone?” Skywalker inquires.

“None of your damn business!” You spit, any and all thoughts of this not being so bad vanishing faster than a bolt of imported silk during a half off sale.

“You got kin round here?” He asks.

“No.” You say, your pride leaking into your tone.

“Friends?”

“Also no.” You say, a little less proudly.

“Some sort of job lined up?”

You shake your head.

“Then what in the world are you doing out here, and all by yourself at that?” Skywalker chastises.

“You’re a man!” You spit, nostrils flaring. “You wouldn’t understand! What it’s like to be trapped by expectations and traditions, with no choices of your own, everything left up to the men in your life! No say in what you wear, what you eat, where you go!”

Your eyes water and your legs shake as the next words tumble out of your mouth.

“… Who you marry…”

A broken son escapes your lips. You were so close, so so close. There was no doubt now you’d be shipped off on the next train back to Chicago. Back to the bastard and that… Well there was no proof he did it, but everyone knew he did. He didn’t even deny it, didn’t confirm it either but that wasn’t the point. No doubt you’d be his next victim once-

“I’ll take you back to my family’s farm.” Skywalker says.

You blink and look him in the eyes. There’s a pain there, an understanding, a twinge of guilt and sorrow, but no regret. You can’t help but think maybe Luke, on some level, does understand what you’re going through, your desire for freedom.

And then you wonder when he suddenly became Luke.

“I can’t guarantee you a place to stay for the long run, but I can at least guarantee you a hot bath and some new clothes before I take you into town to find you some lodging.” He says. “If I can’t, well, we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

“Don’t you mean cross?” You ask.

“If I felt it wasn’t going to, and pardon the language, turn into a shitshow if we can’t find somewhere for you to stay for the long run, then yes. However I don’t see either of us liking the outcome if we get there, so no, I mean burn it.”

The ride back is long and silent. Luke doesn’t ask anymore questions and you don’t offer any information. Soon enough you drift off to sleep, completely exhausted from your near death experience.

You awake to Luke’s voice calling out for someone called Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen. You blearily blink your eyes and force yourself to look around. A woman about your mother’s age comes running out of a quaint little farm house. She was wearing a long slightly flared dress with long sleeves and at least one flounce and appeared to be made of denim. You didn’t know what counted for fashionable out here, in the city sure, but here not a clue, still you felt the dress was pretty plain. Not that there was anything bad with that, you were sure things were very different here than they were back in the city.

Once Luke’s horse came to a stop you hopped down, a bit unceremoniously. Luke dismounted a bit more gracefully than you did and explained the situation. Once he had, the woman, Beru, drug you into the house for a bath while she fetched some old clothes of hers for you to wear.

You took the time to scrub the mud and muck from your skin and hair. It was so much nicer and easier than bathing in a river, and bathing yourself had stopped being hard a good while ago. You liked to think you had gotten the hang of it.

Beru comes back a while later with the clothes while you’re rinsing your hair. She gives a gentle knock in the door before stepping in and setting them on a chair in the room.

“How are you feeling dear?” She asks.

“Better.” You say, and for once you mean it.

“That’s good. Dry off and get dressed and I’ll help you fix your hair before heading into town.” Beru instructs.

“Yes mam.” You say, nodding.

You’d never done your own hair, always had people for that. The closest you ever got was piling it all under your cap each time you had disguised yourself as a man to travel. You were grateful for the help. Even if Beru likely wouldn’t be doing anything fancy like back in the city it was still nice to have the help.

Luke took you into town once you were dried and dressed as promised. He took you to the general store to get supplies and fabrics to make new dresses, thankfully you knew the basics of sewing. Then once you had all that he took you looking for lodging. You searched for four hours. The local inn had no vacancy and no one around was taking in strangers. Luke had bartered at the inn for a room for two of those hours before they threatened to call the sheriff on the two of you.

It was a long ride back to the farm and you were going to have to make it partly in the dark with just a lantern for light. Luke had had the decency to hitch a wagon rather than make you ride in a dress. You knew how to of course, city girl and all, but you still appreciated it after spending three months in the saddle.

Luke, for some reason, decided to go back to the inn. He came out a few minutes later grinning.

“What did you do?” You ask, smoothing the prairie dress Beru had lent you. It had more flounces than the one she’d been wearing, and was made out of flowered calico too. It was a little closer to what you’d wear back home you supposed.

No, not home, never again will it be home.

“Well,” Luke drawls, drawing you from your thoughts. “The inn has no vacancy, but since it’d be improper for you to stay at the farm, you being unmarried and all-“

You glower at him.

“They agreed to let you stay in the stables where they board the horses.” Luke finishes. “Just for tonight until we can figure out a more permanent solution.”

“I guess here’s where we burn that bridge?” You say, remembering his earlier words.

“Might be.” Luke said. “I’ll talk to Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, see what we can do, but I guarantee if our only option is what I think it is, neither of us is gonna like it.”

Your mind races as it tries to piece together what he means. How would he not like it? It’s got nothing to do with him, far as you can tell. And then it clicks. The only way it could have something to do with him, fixing the issue of things being improper.

You shudder, from the thought or the cooling air you don’t know. You came here to escape an arranged marriage, any sort of marriage. You didn’t want to end up trapped again.

You had a plan. Sort of. You’d make it on your own out west for a year or two, no one would search for you out here, they’d think you’d head east towards Philadelphia or New York, somewhere where there were cities, somewhere similar to what you knew. Once you’d stayed away long enough for them to give up the search you’d take a train back and claim your father’s inheritance, then pack up everything that was yours and go back west. Where you’d be free. Now it was looking like those chains you’d fought so hard to escape were still attached.

“I’ll walk you to the stables.” Luke says, offering his arm.

Hesitantly you take it and the two of you begin walking to the stables.

“Sorry, you deserved better than to sleep in the stables.” Luke apologizes.

“If Mary can do it, so can I.” You say. “I’ve slept in worse on my way here.”

“There anything you can tell me ‘bout yourself?” Luke asks.

“I’m from Chicago.” You say, shrugging. “Can’t do much but I’m a quick learner. I know how to sew, embroider, crochet. Not the most ladylike but my daddy taught me to shoot and how to use a sword.”

“Really? Your pa taught a city girl that?” Luke asks bewildered.

“We were supposed to come out west when I was a girl,” you explain. “Daddy wanted me to know how to protect myself. He went out on the Oregon Trail ahead of us. Wanted to secure a place for us. He never made it. Left too late, got snowed in the mountains and died, we never even had a body to bury because the others who went with him… to survive they…”

You sob as you remember what you were told of the party your father went off with. How those who survived only did because they ate the dead bodies of those who died so they didn’t starve.

Luke thankfully doesn’t ask you to finish. Just gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re lucky your pa taught you that, that you had him to care for you, even for a short while.” Luke says softly. “Never knew mine, he died before I was born.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, somehow managing to regain your composure.

By now you’ve made it to the stables.

“Well, g’night miss?” Luke pauses, clearly waiting for you to give your name.

You give it. Luke repeats it and it sounds nice on his tongue. It’s the briefest of thoughts, but you can’t help but think, if you did have to marry somebody to survive out here, Luke would far be from the worst option.

Then Luke walked off and you were alone in the stables with just the horses for company.

The next morning dawns bright and early. To your surprise and chagrin Luke was ready and waiting to bring you back to the Lars farmstead for breakfast. You spend the better part of the ride in silence before Luke starts grilling you with questions.

“Can you cook?”

You always had a maid or someone do that before. You taught yourself enough to get by on the trip down, but you had room for improvement.

“Know how to clean?”

Not a clue, it was never your job back home and mother would throw a fit if you dared lift a finger to do a poor person’s job.

“Ever milk a cow?”

City girl remember?

“But you can sew, embroider, and crochet.” Luke huffs.

“Well I had to keep my hands busy somehow.” You say, scathing.

“I’m sure aunt Beru can teach you everything you need to know.” Luke says, sighing.

“You make it sound like I’ll be staying with you.” You say, displeased.

Luke sighed again, much heavier this time.

“Well, I may as well warn ya. They’re gonna give you two options when you get there, neither one you’ll like.”

“What are they?” You ask, dread pooling in your stomach.

“W-Well,” Luke stutters, ducking his head.

You notice his ears are red as he speaks.

“The first is you could stay with us, but we’d have to get married.” He continues.

“Absolutely not!” You cry standing up in the back of the wagon.

It immediately hits a rock and you lose your balance falling face first to the ground, barely catching yourself on your hands. Groaning, you sigh and push yourself up.

“So what’s the other option?” You ask, glowering at Luke’s back.

“Well, the next town over has a brothel you could work at. Uncle Owen has no problem taking you over there.”

“That’s even worse than the last one!” You cry out.

“There’s nothing wrong with what they do,” Luke says. “They have to make a living, same as everyone else.”

“I am not working at a brothel.” You say crossing your arms and pouting.

Luke sighs. “Look, don’t be stubborn, you have to choose one of them, you don’t exactly have a lot of options. S’almost winter, you can’t exactly sleep on the streets. You’ll freeze to death.” He says. “Either option keeps you warm, fed, and with a roof over your head. They keep you alive.”

You huffed and turned away, biting the inside of your cheek till you tasted pennies.

“Look,” Luke sighs. “I can’t decide for you, but I can promise you, if you do choose to stay with us, I won’t touch you. Not without your permission. Won’t even so much as look at you if you don’t want me to. I won’t try to tie you down and control you, I’ll give you a say in everything. I’ll give you whatever little bit of freedom I can.”

You mull it over, it is the better of the two options, especially if Luke keeps his word.

“I give you till we reach the farm to make up your mind,” Luke says. “But ya need to make a decision by then.”

The rest of the trip is spent in silence as you think about your options. Marrying Luke definitely gave you more freedom and dignity than working at a brothel. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with working in one, but it wasn’t for you. And it wasn’t like you had any other options. Luke was right, winter was coming and if you didn’t have a place by then you were as good as dead.

You bury your head in your skirts as you mourn your life and freedom and resign yourself to your fate.

Eventually the wagon comes to a halt.

“Make up your mind yet?” Luke asks, turning back to look at you.

“Fine.” You sigh, wearily. “I’ll marry you.”

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

As a fellow autistic yes. This. Exactly.

Reblog for visibility!!!