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Learning to dance with luke 🥺

There’s a big political gala coming up and he’s pressured to go because it would be good publicity for him and Leia, and he’s not too excited about it, but Leia tells him he can bring a plus-one. Naturally he asks you.

You both then realize that formal dancing will almost definitely be on the agenda, and neither of you know how to do that. Rather than ask Leia to teach you, you decide to take it upon yourselves to learn.

You spend many nights staying up way too late attempting to teach yourselves how to waltz. There’s lots of watching and rewinding holovid tutorials, lots of awkward mistakes, lots of laughing at yourselves and each other. It brings you closer and by the time that the gala comes around, you two still aren’t great at dancing, but you can fake it well enough to not look like fish out of water.

I totally recommend imagining this while listening… It’s very lovely…

This ask is all the way from January OOPS

Luke’s experiences with love have been few and far between, short-lived, and oftentimes haven’t ended… positively. Half the time they were killed, the other half the time they seemed to be aiming to kill him, then there was the one time the girl he’d been crushing on was actually his sister….

On top of that he never really got serious with anyone. Never did more than kiss them, never made it as far as talking about plans for their future together, never moved in together. His “relationships” were really more on par with the “dating” that middle schoolers partook in. Think little outings where they took walks together, went to a cafe and talked casually, had to build courage to hold hands, got shy about kissing, etc.

Because of this, when you two start dating and it lasts longer than his previous ventures into love, and things start to shift in a more serious direction between you two, he’s absolutely terrified that he’ll screw things up. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do or say but he really wants this to last. He realizes he genuinely wholeheartedly loves you. Sees a future with you. And he’s never had that line of thought with anyone.

He’s got lots of questions that he’s afraid to ask: What does it mean to get serious with someone? How do you approach deeper conversations about the future? How do you confess your love to someone without seeming pathetic or embarrassing? Do you need to like, start having sex now? How do you even initiate deeper intimacy? Should you move in together? And if so, when? How long until he knows whether or not he wants to marry you, and then when is he supposed to propose?

You on the other hand, are having a different problem.

You’re terrified that you’re not good enough for him. You recognize that that’s probably silly, but it’s become a very real fear as you watch Luke climb the ranks and become a powerful Jedi. You’re not like him. You don’t know what it’s like to hold such power and do the things he does, feel what he feels. You’ll never be his equal in that sense and you know that he can’t be the only one of his kind out there in such a huge galaxy.

You're becoming more and more scared that he'll leave you behind. That his purpose will become too great to sustain his feelings for you. That he'll find someone else that's more like him and be able to connect with them deeper than you could ever hope to. You'd heard about his Force Bond with his sister, how powerful it is. If he were to meet someone like him, and they forged a Bond, there was no way you could compete with that.

The last thing you want to do is hold him back or interfere with his goals. You decide that you need to talk to him about your concerns before you get in too deep.

One night, you find each other in the corridors, and you both say that you want to talk. You're nervous, you can tell he is too. You go to your quarters to have more privacy, and Luke comes right out of the gate with his fears-- he wants a future with you, wants to do right by you, but he has no idea what he's doing and he's scared he'll screw something up.

Upon hearing this, you tell him that if it makes him feel any better, you're afraid too. And you tell him why. You can almost see his heart break, and he immediately brings you in for a very long hug, assuring you that your fears will never be realized. The Force had shown him a vision, and you're a part of his life as far into the future as he could see. He loves you, and only you. Nothing and no one will ever change that. Likewise, you tell him that his inexperience doesn't bother you one bit, because you love him too, and you're a team. You'll figure things out together. Besides, you're positive that he'd have to make a conscious effort in order to screw up.

LUKE SKYWALKER knows how suffocatingly dull Tatooine can be. You know it too. Nothing ever happens here unless you go searching for it; out past the dunes where the sand swallows sound, inside the cantina where trouble lingers in every shadowed booth, maybe even around the hangars where ships come and go with lives far more interesting than yours. There’s always been a restlessness in both of you, a quiet itch beneath the skin. Maybe that’s why you understand each other so well.

Today is no different.

Luke is working, as always—sunkissed, stubborn, and determined to keep the Lars homestead running. You’ve managed to carve out a few hours before you have to return to your own chores, and somehow your feet carry you here like they always do. After excusing yourself from Aunt Beru’s warm company, you make your way toward the garage with a cup of water in hand.

It’s practically routine now. Luke doesn’t even look up when you step through the doorway. He doesn’t have to. He knows it’s you. The rhythm of your steps, the way the door shifts on its hinges; it’s instinct at this point.

“I can’t stand this heat,” he complains, voice echoing faintly in the cramped space as he moves around in a restless blur. He’s digging through scattered parts, tools clanking against one another as he searches.

“The speeder has this—” he trails off, crouching to rummage through a lower shelf, metal scraping loudly. “—this clicking sound,” he finishes with a frustrated sigh when he comes up empty-handed.

“I don’t wanna hear it anymore. Not with this heat. And I’ve still gotta check on one of the vaporators…” His irritation spills out in uneven bursts as he keeps searching.

You don’t answer right away, instead, you watch him.

Your gaze traces from the pale gold of his hair, damp and curling at the edges from sweat, down to the sheen glistening across his forehead. His brow is creased in concentration, jaw set tight with frustration. A bead of sweat trails down the strong line of his throat, disappearing beneath the collar of his tunic. The heat is getting to him. The twin suns always do. If he keeps working himself up like this, he’ll overheat long before the day ends.

You step closer until there’s nowhere for him to move without brushing against you. The wall presses cool against his back, and you lift the cup to your lips, taking a slow sip for yourself. Only when he turns, mid-complaint—do you close the remaining space between you.

Your free hand slides up from the column of his neck, fingers threading into the soft blond strands at the back of his head. You tug him down just enough, and your mouths meet.

The water spills between you, warm from the heat of your bodies. It drips down chins and throats, darkening the fabric of his tunic in uneven patches. He makes a quiet sound—half surprise, half relief and then he’s responding, swallowing instinctively. His tongue moves against yours, searching, chasing the last trace of coolness you offered him.

You feel the shift in him instantly. When there’s nothing left to taste but you, he doesn’t pull away. But you do, and you do it slowly.

A satisfied smile curves along your damp lips, and you swipe your tongue over the bottom one to collect what lingers there. Through lowered lashes, you study him.His chest rises and falls heavier now. You wonder if he’s breathing like that because of the relentless Tatooine heat or because of you.

“Want more water?” you ask softly. The question hangs between you, charged with something else entirely. 

A shiver of anticipation slides through you when he nods without hesitation, eyes darker than they were moments ago.

“Please,” Luke exhales, his voice is rough, unsteady—needy in a way that sends a thrill straight through you and suddenly, the heat doesn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.

Learning to dance with luke 🥺

There’s a big political gala coming up and he’s pressured to go because it would be good publicity for him and Leia, and he’s not too excited about it, but Leia tells him he can bring a plus-one. Naturally he asks you.

You both then realize that formal dancing will almost definitely be on the agenda, and neither of you know how to do that. Rather than ask Leia to teach you, you decide to take it upon yourselves to learn.

You spend many nights staying up way too late attempting to teach yourselves how to waltz. There’s lots of watching and rewinding holovid tutorials, lots of awkward mistakes, lots of laughing at yourselves and each other. It brings you closer and by the time that the gala comes around, you two still aren’t great at dancing, but you can fake it well enough to not look like fish out of water.