persephone-writes - Tumblr blog

persephone-writes · 6 months

Text

OMGGGGGGGGGGGG THIS IS AMAZING!!! Literally everything you write is fantastic❤️❤️

mess

Luke Skywalker x fem!reader

(note: written with fem!reader in mind, but no gendered language towards reader. reader is afab with breasts)

MINORS DNI. AGE IN BIO TO INTERACT WITH MY WORKS. I WILL BLOCK YOU IF NOT.

word count: 5k shameless, shameless words. teehee

Contains: This is a sex pollen fic!!!! Very mild dubious consent due to those circumstances, but reader and Luke check in with each other multiple times. Reader calls themself a slut briefly but no degradation, the nickname "bunny" and "baby", cunnilingus, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this unless you want a baby lol), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, Luke is so babygirl

A/N: This takes place between ANH and ESB and may be the closest I've ever written reader's personality to my own irl; reader is pessimistic and self-conscious at times though it does not come up during the sex in this fic, just before and after. Not to worry, happy ending ;)

The Rebellion's cover on Yavin IV was completely blown, of course. You can't get away with obliterating the Empire's most impressive weapon of mass destruction and then trying to just stick around to find out what happens– it would be exceptionally bad strategy. The Rebellion has mere weeks to relocate.

You're just not sure why you raised your hand to be placed on the mission to scout the next uninviting and dangerous planet to build a base on.

Actually, you admit to yourself, that's a lie.

You are sure why you thought it was a good idea, in fact, you're very sure, and the reason is a blonde man around your age with the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen. You've had a crush on him since the moment you saw him, and he had also volunteered for the mission.

The reason is Luke Skywalker.

You jump at the chance, thinking that being around him in a small group would be the easiest way to get to know him. To make him really notice you, not just wave in the hallway as he walks by. Except, coincidentally of course, the Rebellion could only afford to spare two people for the mission, and they stopped taking names once they wrote yours down.

So now, a mere week later, you're alone, on a transport, with Luke Skywalker.

And things have never felt so awkward in your whole life.

In fact, you're seriously rethinking the whole Rebellion thing in general; yes, the cause is deeply important to you, but how important is your dignity in comparison? Would disappearing into the woods back on your home planet forever be letting the Empire win?

It's just that in the three days and two planetary excursions you've spent together, you've fumbled over every interaction you've had with Luke, and it's killing you. You've spoken to him before, but only in short, passing conversations, the kind of thing that's easy to run from. But now? There's no where to run. You've bumped into him at least four times that you can count on the tiny transport and rushed out apologies every time, tripped over a vine on the first planet, slipped on ice on the second. Both times he caught you before you hit the ground. You could have died from the embarrassment, melted into the floor and slipped away.

Your small talk is weak, but at least you can always talk about the weather, since it's actually topical to the mission. You don't know what else to say, desperately trying to come off as normal around him, not like some over-enthused fan who just wants to get with him because he's the Hero of Yavin IV. Luke is either oblivious, or pretends not to notice, and keeps trying to make conversation anyway.

"I don't like Hoth for it. Too cold," he says, sitting down in his seat as the two of you rocket through hyperspace, heading to the next planet. "Actually, it's all the snow. How do you build anything in all that?"

What's worse about the situation is that the mission has been fruitless. The base has to be built on a planet that is next-to inhospitable, with no current population to disrupt. It's a short list of horrible places, but you have to make one of them work.

"Well," you hesitate, "Deyer is toxic, we couldn't even breathe the atmosphere there. Plus we saw Imps orbiting Anout, which we should probably tell someone about."

"Already sent Leia a comm on the secure channel."

You're quiet for a half second. Luke talks fast, and you have to answer quickly to keep up with him, but you aren't used to hearing General Organa's first name from other recruits. Of course he's close with her. Are you trying to compete with a princess? You have to wonder.

Luke sighs and leans back in his chair. "Just like places where it's hot, that's all."

"Cause you fit right in," you mutter, completely accidentally, and hearing yourself, your eyes widen. "Being from Tatooine, you're used to it," you rush.

Hardly your best save, but Luke smiles at you, bemused. You swear sometimes he can see right through your facade.

"You know, I couldn't wait to get off that planet," he says. "There was never any adventure there, not anymore."

"Really?" you ask. "None?"

"I guess I could have stuck around to bullseye womprats in my T-16 but I'd been doing that since I was a kid."

"Oh," you note. Honestly, you don't know if you're sure of what a womprat even is, though you can guess. "So, is this mission another adventure, then?" you ask.

"It can be," Luke says. "I have a feeling it's an important one."

You nod, not sure if you have the right to ask what he means by a feeling. That's the other thing about Luke, he has this power most people don't, this Force that everyone started whispering about after he arrived on base with certain things no one had seen in a long time; a lightsaber, luck, a certain type of faith.

As you're overthinking it, the transport shudders out of hyperspace, blue lines becoming dots of light as you drift into the orbit of the next world on your list to investigate. The two of you part ways as he takes over piloting while you go to prep the packs to bring with you on the excursion.

When Luke lands the small ship on the planet's surface, you hope that this is the perfect location, but something just feels... off.

These places that you and Luke are investigating are all supposed to be disagreeable by design. Something– be it the weather, the atmosphere, the creature life– is supposed to keep most people away, including and especially the Empire. Everyone should be unsuspecting that the Rebellion would ever chose such a location for their base.

The problem is that the ecosystem here is shockingly nice. Welcoming, even. You've landed in a little clearing, but just a few yards away the landscape morphs into nothing but fields and fields, valleys and meadows as far as the eye can see, and in every field grows delicate little wildflowers; with purple petals barely the size of the tip of your finger. They seem to grow on the wild grasses, some of them reaching as tall as your hips.

"We got the right coordinates, right?" you venture.

"Yeah! I don't understand," Luke answers. "This isn't unpleasant at all."

Nerthusa, if you remember the name of the planet correctly, didn't list any conditions in the records, just that there were no sentient inhabitants. Your atmospheric indicator is reading that it's safe, so the two of you take your masks off. There's an overtly sweet smell in the air that hits you right away when you do, obviously because of the flowers.

"There's gotta be some massive creature that lives here that's plotting how to kill and eat us right now. I mean, why else..." you trail off, still looking around for a threat or an incoming storm, but there's nothing.

Luke has done his own surveilling and apparently also come up with nothing in the immediate vicinity.

"We should explore some," he says, "y'know, before we definitely pick this spot instead of Hoth for the base," he jokes, smiling at you again.

For all the grief you gave him earlier, you're not too keen on the idea of living on Hoth either, and so far, Nerthusa is beautiful. Plus, you'd feel pretty bad if you signed off on it and then it turned out there were wild herds of vicious carnivorous beasts roaming around or something. A thorough investigation is only fair, you think, so the two of you grab your packs and set off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a while, everything was fine, but about a half an hour into your trek, things are decidedly not fine in a very unique way, but you would probably rather literally die than mention anything about it to Luke. For one, he was so hopeful about this place, and secondly... well. Let's just say your symptoms were unusual.

It started off with what felt like hot flashes. One moment you'd be perfectly fine in the afternoon breeze, and the next, your cheeks would be burning and you'd have the strong urge to yank your shirt off. In the beginning, it would come in waves, and pass over you, leading you to think you'd just been pushing yourself too hard through the field or something, but how could that be true? The landscape was hardly difficult to maneuver, and your pace steady but not too quick.

The flashes were slowly replaced by waves of a different type of heat, one that was much more difficult to rationalize. Shit, you know you're attracted to Luke, but you've never, ever felt like this, not in situations outside of your bedroom. And not even then.

You can't look at him for too long or you think you might lose control. He's thankfully trailing behind you now by just a little bit, your only reprieve that he can't see your face like this. When you do glance back at him, he's looking at the ground, but his cheeks are flushed just beautifully, his hair catching the light from the late afternoon sun. His toned biceps have a slight sheen of sweat and, and, and–

You rip your gaze away. You want him. No, you NEED him.

No, you're being insane, you mentally scold yourself, but it's getting more and more difficult to rationalize your way out of it. There's a perpetual feeling low inside you now, and you can feel yourself actually dripping into your underwear.

You're not sure how much more you can take, and when you pick up on the sound of Luke breathing heavily behind you, it doesn't make it any better. Is he feeling this too?

Your resolve to say something breaks when you find yourself beginning to imagine what would happen if you stopped walking and let him run into you, pushed your ass against his cock, let him bend you over and fuck you into the goddamn ground, right here, right now. You're thinking about having something, anything inside your cunt, but especially his cock. You have to snap out of it.

"Let's stop for a second," you rush out, not giving Luke a chance to protest. You start walking away from him, hoping to put some distance between the two of you as if that will cure your ailment, so you lean on a large rock a few feet off the side of the trail you'd been walking.

The atmosphere is sickly saccharine now, stifling your breathing. There's a low mist or something hanging in the air and everything feels strangely heavy. You close your eyes for what you thought was just a second, trying to figure out how to bring up that this planet is obviously poisoning you despite what the indicators read earlier, but when you open them again, Luke is gone.

For a second, you panic; your blood runs cold, and your system is too overwhelmed with the brief shock and fear that you can almost fight off the symptoms the planet is subjecting you to. You scan the fields rapidly, your mind searching. It certainly would be worse to lose Luke Skywalker on a random planet in the Outer Rim than nearly any other bad luck that could befall you, and it would mean you'd be alone here. Under any normal circumstance the thought would certainly unsettle you, but rational thought is quickly slipping from your mind's grasp, and you feel different. Maybe even abandoned.

You wheel around and finally see him standing in the valley, several yards away, with his back to you. Your relief is palpable; you feel your shoulders drop and your heart rate settle.

And then the other feelings are back, ten times stronger.

"Luke!" you can't help but call out as you practically double over, and then, fighting to straighten your posture, take a few steps his direction.

Luke turns around and puts his hands out like he's trying to corral a frightened bantha, and that's when you know he's feeling it too. The thought of Luke being as equally aroused as you are in this moment makes your knees buckle.

"Don't, um... don't come any closer, something's wrong," he says.

"I know. We have to get out of here," you shout, continuing to move towards him. "I think I'm... I think I'm getting sick," you insist. It's not a lie, necessarily. It's not the truth either.

"Yeah," Luke says, his voice trembling. "Yeah, me too."

At least both of you are determined to avoid what's really happening.

"It's the flowers," you say, stopping a foot or two away from him. "We're allergic to the pollen, or... or, something. We should take the reaction treatment in the medpacks and leave."

Luke is not listening to you. It's evident by the way he's avoiding your gaze entirely. His eyes wander briefly down your neck to your chest before he appears to zone out completely, gaze falling to the ground.

"Luke..." you trail off. No response. "Luke?" you insist. He doesn't react until you touch his wrist– it's instinctual, and a huge mistake.

"Mm?" he moans lightly as he seems to snap out of the trance he was in, but when he looks up at you, his face is flushed, his pupils blown wide. You probably look similarly messy, you imagine, as the touch of his skin to yours electrifies you. It dulls the ache, soothes the relentless arousal even just a tiny amount. Stars, it's bad. It's worse, because you could become addicted to the way his skin feels against yours right now.

You pull back your hand like you'd been scalded. You want him like you've never wanted anyone. You don't dare to look at his body any further down than his chest, knowing if your own state is any indication, that he's hard and aching in his pants, and you don't know how you'll hold yourself back if you see him like that.

"Sorry," you whisper. He doesn't say anything, just licks his lips subtly and nods.

"Luke," you protest, "we have to get to the ship, and soon. If this is... I don't know what it is," you trail off. Half-truths. You've obviously both been exposed to an extremely powerful aphrodisiac via the flower pollen, you and Luke know there's no denying that. But the extent of its symptoms, and how bad it will get if you stay, there's no way to know.

It pains you, staying focused like this. Your heart and cunt are screaming at you to just have sex with him, to just give in to the urge to use one other to get off. What's left of your logical reasoning persists in one singular thought; get away from the flowers.

"Okay," he says. "Okay, let's go back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk to the transport is as silent as it is excruciating. You and Luke have an unspoken agreement to stay several feet away from each other, so he trails behind you once again. There's nothing to talk about, anyway.

The seam of your pants rubs against your clit with every step. You almost feel thankful for it, because if not for the merciful contact, you're sure you would have shoved a hand down your pants already. You can feel that there's a wet patch on the crotch of your trousers and you have never felt more humiliated, or more needy. Every few minutes, you sense Luke exhale a soft, barely audible moan behind you.

Don't look. Keep walking, you think. All there is to do is keep walking.

More lies, your mind supplies, like a screwed up dialogue with yourself. You could fuck him instead.

When you reach the transport, you dash inside like you're possessed. As soon as you're both inside, you seal the doors, hoping once you're out of the environment, things might change. You open one of the ship cabinets and rummage through the med supplies until you find the reaction treatment and quickly take the pill that's supposed to regulate your internal systems.

You turn to pass a pill to Luke, who's slumped against the wall, a hand conspicuously placed over the front of his trousers. You don't say anything, just watch as he also takes the treatment, then look away, seating yourself in the passenger side of the ship, crossing your legs, not knowing what else to do.

It's supposed to be instant, but nothing is happening. You wait a few minutes, hoping. Not a goddamn thing feels better.

"If you expect me to– I can't– I can't fly like this," Luke sounds almost irritated for a moment, which you suppose is fair, but you refuse to turn around to look at him. Your nails dig into the armrests next to you. If things hadn't been so damn awkward before, maybe there would have been some kind of resolution to this that involved you implying getting rid of the effects naturally instead of torturing yourself like this.

Distracted again at the idea, you imagine getting up and kissing Luke, pressing your body against him the way it craved. You imagined him pinning you to the wall, ripping your ruined pants and shoving his cock into you at a brutal pace, giving you everything you wanted, craved, needed right now.

Stars, you were on the edge of orgasm just thinking about it, clenching and relaxing your thighs rhythmically, hips doing tiny, almost imperceptible circles on your seat.

But you caught yourself before you could finish; you couldn't see your way out of it. You barely knew Luke, no matter how much you were into him, so you couldn't muster the strength to ask him if he'd consider it– if he'd consider you. You might die from this before you gave in, you thought. Maybe literally. You reluctantly uncross your legs, denying yourself release, and shifted in your chair.

"Fuck," Luke whines, suddenly across from you in the pilot's seat. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" you breathe. His close proximity is taunting you, and when you look over at him, his head is thrown back against the seat. He's absentmindedly touching himself, rutting his still-clothed cock against his hand as his hips jerk every so often, like it's not even on purpose but on pure instinct.

Animalistic.

"When you," Luke squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, "when you sit like that, I can, uhm–"

It's your turn to be a bit snappy with him. You're more than uncomfortable and there's no getting around it now. Mere moments earlier, you still thought you could ignore the problem and it would go away, but now Luke is grabbing at his cock over his pants right in front of you. Fuck it.

"Spit it out, Skywalker," you say, giving in and letting your own hand snake down your torso to cup your heat, pressing your wet trousers and panties against your pussy.

"Can smell how turned on you are when you open your legs," he rushes out.

"Oh," you breathe, barely above a whisper. It makes sense. Enclosed spaces. No longer the open field of flowers to mask the scent of your arousal or of his sweat.

When you think of it, your hips grind harder against your hand and the chair, and you let out a moan, frustrated, self-conscious, but unable to hold back any longer.

At this, Luke suddenly keens. His hips give one, two, three little jerks, and he bites his lip in an effort to stifle his own noises, his whole body tensing, blue eyes rolling back as he very obviously came in his pants, a wet spot forming on his trousers.

"Did you–" you go to inquire, but think better of it. It's obvious what just happened. "Did it help?" you ask instead. Your face is burning with embarrassment and intense arousal. The look on Luke's face when he cums is not something you ever intend to forget.

"No," Luke sighs, "no, I'm still– it's still– I think we can't get rid of it on our own. It... it's worse than before."

When you don't say anything, he keeps talking.

"Really want you," Luke says softly, and then he's sliding off his seat, moving to kneel right in front of you. His hands come to rest on your thighs, gently spreading your legs further open. Your eyes have to be as wide as saucers when he kisses your inner knee and inhales deeply before pulling away.

"Please? It's hurting you, too, isn't it?" he asks, his gorgeous blue eyes looking up at you, begging you silently.

In more ways than one, you think. You're being haunted by all the complications of this, no matter how badly you want him. You could fall in love with him, but Luke doesn't owe you anything; you're not dating, you've never even had a conversation longer than ten minutes before this week.

He doesn't even owe you this, and yet he's offering to give it to you.

"Yes," you breathe shakily, "I want you too."

No sooner are the words out of your mouth than Luke is pulling on the belt loops of your pants. "Take them off," he whines, and you rush, shoving your trousers off in haste. It feels good to give in to the effects of the pollen, feels right. You mind gets clouded, thinking only of Luke's skin on yours.

The flowers must be similarly affecting Luke, because before you can divest yourself of your panties, Luke's shoving his face against your clothed pussy, tonguing you lewdly over your already ruined undergarments. The feeling is amplified by whatever the two of you inhaled earlier, and you throw your head back, your hips leaving the chair as you squirm, at the mercy of the mess of a man on his knees in front of you.

"You're soaked," Luke moans against your cunt. Your mind is empty, filled with the base desire to feel his mouth against your bare cunt, and you shove your panties off your legs hurriedly. Luke helps, yanking them down.

"Oh," he whines, "These are so pretty." He's holding your wet undergarment up and staring like he's won a prize, momentarily distracted by the lace trim and the smell of you on them.

"We ruined them," he laments. "I'll get you new ones, bunny."

Luke doesn't give you time to respond, or to react to the new nickname he's given you, before he's practically pushing his face against your cunt. He doesn't hesitate; there's no teasing, no build-up, just the feeling of his tongue firm against you, starved in a way you've never felt before.

You can't help but writhe on his tongue. At the start, you try to avoid fisting your hands in his pretty blonde hair, but you can only hold yourself back for mere moments before you're tugging at him, pushing his face into your cunt and grinding your hips across his mouth.

And Luke likes it, moans into your cunt below you, panting. His big blue eyes find yours when you tug particularly hard and you swear you see his eyelashes flutter. He's doing his best to get as close as humanly possible to you, too, grabbing your thighs and pulling you forward onto his mouth, the wet sound of your cunt urging him on. He licks and sucks on your clit, and you sob.

It's heady. It's disgusting. It's going to make you cum. And somehow, he knows.

"Yeah?" he barely pulls away to answer you, "You like that?"

"Luke," you cry, pushed over the edge, grinding against his face as you let the aftershocks overtake your body, expecting your body to relax as usual into the bliss of the afterglow.

Except, the desire doesn't fade. The symptoms don't go away. If anything, they've intensified, and you moan frustratedly. The orgasm Luke has given you on any other day would have sated you completely, but not now.

Luke looks wrecked on his knees before you, pupils blown so wide that his eyes look dark. His mouth shines with your release, his cheeks a bright red.

You give into your urges.

Sliding off the chair, you situate yourself so you're also on your knees on the floor of the ship with him. You lean over, crawling into his lap, and claim his mouth, kissing him the way you've only ever dreamed you might one day. It's the first time you've kissed, you realize somewhat embarrassingly, mind reeling that he's had his lips on your pussy before your mouth.

"That was so good. You're so good," you compliment him between kisses, and he lights up at the praise, smiling against your mouth, hips grinding against yours, and you can feel how hard he is.

"D'you feel better?" Luke hesitates, almost like he's too nervous to ask.

You shake your head. "No...I-I need more."

"Me too," he answers.

"Let me help you?" you ask, trailing a hand over his cock, hard and thick in his pants. He shudders and bucks his hips, nodding.

You're quick to pull him from the confines of his pants, underwear just as soaked as yours was from his earlier orgasm. You can't even think to tease him about it though, because his cock is gorgeous. Long and pretty, flushed so much it must be painful– you know it is, just as much as your cunt aches to have him inside you.

You meant to take him as quickly as you could, to satiate the pollen, to cure yourself of the beyond intense desire you feel. You don't mean to toy with him, but you can't help it, you're mesmerized. The way his cock is leaking precum makes you stop and just watch, letting him fuck your hand, twisting your wrist a bit at the tip to make him moan and keen and cry out and– and–

He's cumming again, all over his open pants, all over his shirt, all over your hand. You've never seen anything like it. Your cunt twitches and flutters around nothing as you watch him finish.

His little noises, his "ah, haah, mh!" sounds almost send you over the edge.

"Oh, baby. There’s so much,” you gasp, eyes wide at the way he's literally dripping with his own spend. His cock refuses to soften, twitching in your hand even as you pause your ministrations– the pollen has completely eradicated his refractory period.

"I needa be inside you right now, please," Luke begs.

By now the feeling inside of you is debilitating too, impossible to ignore. You rip your own shirt off, pawing at Luke's clothing that's stained with his cum and help him take everything off before you're quickly straddling him, pinning him to the floor.

Selfishly, you wish you had time to marvel at his body, to slowly worship him, to mark his abdomen with love bites and kisses instead of jumping to this point, but the need for him is overwhelming. You sink down onto his cock, and you feel like the air has been punched out of your lungs.

"F-fuck!" Luke exclaims as he feels the tight heat of your pussy clench around him for the first time, overwhelmed. You would love to take your time with this one day, too, you realize as you look down at him. He's cute beneath you, staring up at you adoringly, eyes darting from where his cock is buried inside of you, to your tits, to your face. Maybe he'd react well to being teased, but it isn't the time.

And the way he's desperately thrusting his hips up into you now isn't so bad, either. His hands grip your hips, fucking you on his dick as you grind down on him, the two of you working in tandem.

You don't know if it's because it's Luke, or if it's because of the pollen, or a little bit of both, but you feel amazing right now; there's a comfortable warmth spreading throughout your body, and everywhere Luke touches you feels addicting. The pace is fast and rough and perfect.

You may never get this again, you realize. You've got to make the most of it.

"So pretty," you tell him. "Look so good like this."

Luke moans underneath you, his breathing shallow and stuttered, hips never ceasing to roll perfectly against you. You notice the way his gaze continues to linger on your breasts and can't help yourself.

"Touch me," you whimper, pulling his hands from their place on your hips to your tits. "You like them, don't you? Seen the way you look at them."

Luke practically worships your breasts, running his hands along your body.

"You're perfect," he whines. "A-all of you. Feel like a dream around my– uhm, uh! L-like you're meant for me."

The idea does you in. "Oh, oh god," you cry out, clenching on his cock and cumming for the second time in a matter of minutes. It wracks through your body, making you shudder and collapse against Luke, who redoubles his efforts, holding your body against his as his hips continue to fuck against yours, which is all the better for you; you can't believe it, but you still feel that your body needs more.

It's obvious that Luke is losing all concentration, lost in his own pleasure. He chases his own orgasm, rutting into your body like a man possessed, until you feel him erupt inside of you.

“Ccan't stop cumming..." he whines as you feel his cock twitch in your cunt, and now you're dripping in a different way than before, "Again, bunny, I n-need it again.”

"Fuck yes, me too," you cry out.

No sooner have the words left your mouth than Luke is flipping the two of you over, throwing your legs around his waist. You cross your legs behind him, drawing him even closer, and throw your hips back towards him, desiring to take everything he can give you.

He gasps sharply as he sheathes himself inside you again, overstimulated, but still absolutely insatiable.

"Does it hurt?" you ask, your own pussy sure to be sore soon, you knew.

"A l-little but it feels s' good," he whines. "Can't stop. Don't wanna stop."

"Then don't, baby. Fuck me hard," you insist.

He listens, his pace brutal, completely drunk on your pussy. Under any other circumstances you'd want to tease him for it, but you were much the same for him. His moans were relentless, whining and gasping at every thrust as you ran your nails down his back, clinging to him. One of his pretty hands comes to play with your swollen clit, rubbing against you gently but firmly.

"Y'like it?" Luke asks.

"So much," you answer. And then, because you're feeling a bit brave; "Feel like such a slut f'you," you say, sultry, hardly above a whisper.

Luke's eyes go wide for a second before he suddenly kisses you deeply.

"Y'wanna be my slut? Is that it?" he asks against your mouth.

"Yeah," you cry out as his cock perfectly hits that most sensitive spot inside of you.

"That's really hot," he whines. And then, like a silly little afterthought, "We're kinda both sluts right now," he huffs out with a laugh and you can't help but to smile as you kiss him again.

Hardly thinking anymore, you kiss at his neck, yet again wishing in a possessive way that you could mark him more permanently, but this would do for now. Luke shudders against you, crying out.

"Ah, oh, m' c-close. Y'gonna make me cum again for you, bunny."

"Yeah? Good," you say, and grab a handful of his beautiful blonde hair, tilting his head back so he's looking at you, "Want you to cum inside me again."

"Oh, unh, I ccan't hold it," he babbles, "cumming."

Luke sloppily ruts into you as he finishes; there's so much it's practically spilling out of you. He's falling apart, and you are too, following him over the edge mere seconds later.

You can sense that the pollen's effect is waning, but it's not yet gone from either of your systems. Luke's cock, despite having just pumped you full of cum, remains hard inside your pussy. You still ache for another orgasm, not yet content.

"Oh," Luke whines as he shifts inside of you, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"Baby?" you ask, "are you okay?"

"Uhn," he chokes out, "yyeah, just, oh, ffuck, sensitive s'all."

"Just one more, baby, it's gonna feel so good. One more time," you coax, despite your own aches and pains.

This time, it's much gentler; not romantic, not quite, it still feels like there's an urgency, but the two of you are well-worn out, bodies nearly giving out despite the influence of the pollen; his cock oversensitive and your cunt full to the brim of him.

Luke presses a soft kiss to your forehead and you freeze, just for a split second. It shouldn't change things, but it does. It's not the time to be caught up in the logistics of all this, but your mind is beginning to be released from the brain fog caused by the flowers and suddenly there's nothing else to think about.

He must sense something about the change in your behavior, because he holds you close, and rocks into you softer. It makes you like him even more, makes you so fond of him you could cry. You don't. Instead, you pull his face towards yours and let yourself kiss him tenderly in return, unbearably erotic, tracing his skin as you moan quietly into each other's mouths, a mixture of sensitivity and pleasure mingling.

It's not long before the two of you are close to cumming again, and in a moment of greed and blind arousal, you pull him closer by his hair and bite and suck passionately at his collarbone, knowing it will bloom into a beautiful, dark mark that he'll hopefully remember you by, at least for a while. He liked it earlier, you remember. And he likes it now, you observe. Luke absolutely melts, gasps and moans delightedly, and spills inside of you for a third time, triggering your own orgasm as you clench around him.

Finally, you feel spent. Your cunt flutters with aftershocks, but there's no uncontrollable lust accompanied with it anymore. Luke slips out of you, his cock softening at last. The two of you lay on the floor of the transport for a quiet moment, breathing together, your muscles only now feeling the burn of your exertion.

Reality has set back in.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out when you can finally think of anything to say, grabbing your clothes from the discarded pile nearby and holding them in front of your nude frame, as if there was anything Luke hadn't seen that evening.

Luke, who's been lounging on the duristeel floor quite comfortably, sits up and furrows his brows.

"Sorry? Why?"

You look at him pointedly, and gesture vaguely. "Kind of a mess, isn't it?"

"Oh, we can clean up," Luke says, his mild confusion obvious.

"I... I don't know if I meant literally," you say slowly, "I mean, the whole mission has been a mess. I'm a mess. This is a mess."

"I don't think you're a mess," Luke wagers, his tone careful yet reverent, and it shakes you. "and I don't think this mission has been all that terrible either. 'Cept for Hoth, really, but that's besides the point."

You're silent. The air might as well have been punched out of your lungs.

"If you want to pretend all this didn't happen, that's fine," Luke continues, "but I like you, and– and if you feel the way I feel, maybe you'd think about going on a date sometime? After we find a planet to put this stupid base on?"

Something in you relaxes, despite the fact that your heart is pounding. "Yeah. Yeah, I- I like you too. We can do that," you can't hide your smile.

"This is going to make a real funny story one day," Luke says, smiling back. "I told you. Adventure."

"Yeah, well... I don't know if we should put it in the mission report."

Luke actually laughs then. It's a sound you hope you get to hear for the rest of your life.

"Share the sonic?" he asks, "You weren't kidding about this mess," he says, gesturing to your shared fluids on both of you.

"That tiny shower? We'll be pressed against each other like sardines," you tease. "I'll probably slip and fall and break my ass."

"I'll catch you."

"Well then, how could I say no?" you wink.

"I guess I'll see you in there," he jokes back, starting to walk down the small corridor to the refresher. When you join him, you were right, there's barely space for the two of you to even turn around comfortably, but you wouldn't change a thing.

“One more thing," you say as you step inside, "There's no way in hell we can put the base here.”

Luke sighs, an over-exaggerated thing, and pretends to roll his eyes.

“Hoth it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: holy shit guys. I finally did it. two years in my mind. three days to write. here it is. I hope you love it.

#Fic rec: Luke Skywalker

615 notes · View notes

persephone-writes · 6 months

Photo

“shirt: armani” (x)

#MARK...

16K notes · View notes

persephone-writes · 7 months

Note

I don't care what they say, Luke's tighty whities = iconic.

The magazine was sold out in the Rebellion for a reason!

#yeah im also a massive slut for Luke #why is everyone in star wars so fucking attractive but in completely different ways #everyones got their own flavor lmao

169 notes · View notes

persephone-writes · 7 months

Note

i love your writing so much!!! i hope we can get a part three eventually! can’t wait!! 💜💜💜

thank you so so much! it really means the world, since I was super nervous about posting my writing! I'll probably end up writing a part three, which I think will be the final part <333

#seriously THANK YOUUUUU

0 notes

persephone-writes · 7 months

Text

you are so sweet THANK YOUUUU❤️❤️❤️❤️🫠🫠🫠

On the Streets of Coruscant: Part Two

Obi-Wan x Fem!Reader

Read Part One (posted on my old account @persephone-writes2)

Obi-Wan image by ObmanBalagan on pinterest

Description: Over a decade after their spontaneous stroll around the Plaza, Y/N is working as an aide to Senator Amidala. When the Senator is placed under the protection of two Jedi after an assassination attempt, Y/N is reunited with the now Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings & Tags: canon typical violence/the assassination attempts of Padme (mentioned only), mild discussions of low self esteem, reader specifically does *not* have children, probably a crap ton of grammatical errors, lots of Y/N usage, fluff, kissing, happy ending!

Notes: Sooo, full warning, I hate this, but I'm posting it anyway! This takes placing during Attack of the Clones, so I had to change a few things around to fit in the reader (some things just happen because I said so lol) This also means that I HAD to include Jar Jar. I attempted at writing dialogue for him but I just couldn't bring myself to, so I tried my best to just have him barely be there lmao. Also, mullet obi-wan is top tier and I will die on that hill

Y/N clicked away on her holopad, attempting to get through the pile of work that had been dumped on her that morning. While her job was always demanding, and sometimes overwhelming, this was the busiest she had been in a long time. With Senator Amidala set to arrive on Coruscant today amidst an increasingly intense political climate, Y/N was tasked with taking what seemed like hundreds of messages, thoroughly organizing and answering every one. While Padmé had an array of other aides to help her, Y/N was the head of her office on Coruscant, leaving her with the majority of the responsibility when she was on-planet, besides that of Dormé.

Despite her spinning head, Y/N adored her job, as well as Senator Amidala. She had worked in a variety of low level positions for different Senators, many of which were not nearly as kind. No matter how much pressure she faced, Padmé never spoke harshly or berated those who worked for her. Y/N couldn’t imagine how exhausting it must be to represent an entire planet, all while keeping up a professional appearance. Outside of her office, Padmé had to seem relaxed, dignified, and confident no matter what she was up against. At least Y/N didn’t have to face the wrath of the public or the argumentative nature of the Senate. Always tucked away inside the office, Y/N could plug away at her work without the eyes of thousands upon her at any given time.

Another aide knocked on the door of the office before entering, peeking his head in.

“The Senator is landing.”

“Thank you,” Y/N replied, frantically pulling up the most urgent messages in preparation. The aide hurried away down the hall, the door closing behind him. After a few minutes, a guard came running down the hall, opening the door abruptly. Y/N jumped at the sudden intrusion, growing fearful when she saw the look on his face.

“The Senator’s ship has been attacked,” the guard said, a bit out of breath. Y/N felt her stomach drop, dread rushing through her.

“Is she alright?” Y/N asked, voice desperate. Before he could answer, Captain Typho pushed past him, leading Padmé into the room. Her face was contorted in sadness and confusion, obviously still in shock. She wasn’t wearing her usual attire, dressed identically to Typho in a dark turtleneck and leather vest. She immediately sat down in one of the chairs, head hung low.

A wave of relief came over Y/N knowing Padmé was okay. She immediately rushed to her, kneeling down beside her chair.

“Milady, are you alright?” Padmé only nodded. Y/N looked up at Captain Typho, who was pacing around the room. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he said, eyes darting around in thought. “Someone bombed the ship.”

For a moment, Y/N stared out into space, swallowing thickly before she stood.

“Milady,” Typho began, to which Padmé lifted her head, “We must get you somewhere safer.”

She nodded, standing up and taking a deep breath. Her composure was regained, and Y/N marveled at the speed to which she recovered from such a terrifying incident. She turned to Y/N, eyes determined.

“Y/N, send me all the necessary documents for the vote,” she paused, turning to Typho, “We shall go to my apartment.”

“Yes, milady,” Y/N answered. Typho then led Padmé from the room, Y/N immediately returning to her desk to get to work once again.

A few hours later, Y/N received a message from the Captain that she would be meeting with the Chancellor and would not be returning to the Senate today. Further, Y/N was to meet Padmé at her apartment to discuss a series of negotiation plans which Y/N had been organizing. Y/N was no stranger to working in the Senator’s apartment, having done so on many late nights when Padmé refused to get some rest. However, it had never been under such circumstances.

Later in the afternoon, Padmé’s team sent a transport for her along with a guard. Y/N thought it was overkill, as no one was after a random aide, but she didn’t make too much of a fuss about it. No one could stop Padmé from worrying about her team, especially after some of them likely died in the attack. As the transport flew through the busy city, Y/N peered out of the window, wondering who could have been behind the explosion. Padmé had many adversaries, though it surprised Y/N that any one of them would attempt to assassinate her. The Separatist movement had uprooted nearly every system, turning the Senate into more of a battle ground than ever before. Even so, war had not broken out yet, and all Y/N could do was hope that it wouldn’t resort to that.

Pulling up to the apartment, Y/N was escorted by the guard all the way up the glass turbolift, exposed to the city. Stepping in, she remembered the first time she had been called here, unable to pull her eyes away from the city growing smaller as she ascended.

As the turbolift doors opened, she immediately heard the happy voice of Jar Jar Binks. While she thought it strange for someone to be excited at a time like this, it was hard to tamper Jar Jar’s spirits. The guard led her into the apartment, where she saw Padmé sitting on one of the long sofas. She was clothed her usual fashion, hair in an updo, wearing a wide skirt dress with long flowing sleeves. Although Padmé looked good in almost anything, it was a small relief to see her back to her normal self. Captain Typho was standing a few feet away, with Dormé sitting beside Padmé. On the sofa opposite sat two men who Y/N instantly recognized as Jedi. Working for the Senate, Y/N had seen her fair share of Jedi over the years, though their presence usually didn’t bring good news. Of course, today wasn’t the day for good news anyhow.

Padmé stopped speaking, spotting Y/N as she walked into the room. She turned to smile at her, which Y/N returned easily. The other’s followed Padmé’s gaze, and Y/N grew a bit nervous at the attention. Her eyes went to the two Jedi, now given a clear view of their faces. The one sitting closest had short, cropped brown hair and the braid of a padawan falling across his shoulder. He appeared slightly annoyed, and Y/N wondered if she had intruded upon an important conversation she was not meant to be a part of. Her gaze drifted to the other Jedi, whose hair was on the longer side and a light copper in color. His beard was short and neatly trimmed, though there was still an air about him that was rugged, ever so slightly ruffled. After her brief first impression, the realization hit Y/N with a full, intense force. Her heart sped up significantly as she thought back to over ten years ago when she had met a Jedi at a nightclub.

Before Y/N could make any sort of reaction, Padmé stood, followed by the others.

“Y/N,” she said kindly, walking over to greet her.

“Senator,” Y/N said in return, bowing.

Jar Jar happily pranced over and shook Y/N’s hand, telling her it was nice to see her again. Y/N chuckled at his enthusiasm before turning back to Padmé.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his padawn, Anakin Skywalker,” she introduced. Y/N was forced to look at the two Jedi, feeling heat rush up her spine and into her face. She had no idea if she should acknowledge that they knew each other, or pretend they were strangers. Obi-Wan reached out his hand to shake hers, a small, polite smile on his lips. She took it wearily, forcing herself to make eye contact. It was easier to shake the padawan’s hand, who only nodded at her.

Now that she was closer to Obi-Wan, she stole a look at him from the corner of her eye. He was just as handsome as he was when they first met, perhaps even more handsome. His face was not boyish as it had been, now more mature, his features stronger and more pronounced. The buzz that once existed all around him was settled, but not completely gone. Remnants of it remained in his eyes, which still held their playful shine. Suddenly, Y/N grew self conscious of her appearance. She was older than she had been, no longer the young girl she once was. It was hard for her to know how different she truly looked, as she had watched herself slowly age over many years. Her clothes as well were more mature, or rather refined. She realized that Obi-Wan had only seen her in her party clothes, never something professional, clean-cut, more simple. Her rapid thoughts were interrupted by Padmé, who went on to introduce her.

“This is Y/N L/N, my leading aide on Coruscant,” Padmé said. Obi-Wan let out a small laugh at her words, earning a confused look from Padmé. His laugh was a bit deeper than it was all those years ago, but it held the same lightness and ease.

“We’ve met,” he said, accent still smooth, “a long time ago.”

Y/N smiled sheepishly, knowing that Obi-Wan was looking at her face. Padmé appeared pleasantly surprised, Anakin raising his brows at his Master.

“You have?” Padmé asked, smiling at Y/N.

Y/N nodded, trying to think of what to say. Obi-Wan saved her, speaking before anyone could ask questions.

“I was still a padawan then,” Obi-Wan said, light hearted without giving anything away. Anakin looked suspiciously towards Y/N, but wiped his face quickly when she noticed.

“This is the day of reacquaintance,” Padmé said, pleased with the surprise. Y/N gave her a confused look, and she laughed a bit, realizing her mistake. “I met Master Kenobi and Anakin ten years ago, when I was Queen.”

Y/N nodded. “I see,” was all she could think to say.

“You must excuse us,” Padmé began, “We have much work to do.”

“It was lovely to meet you,” Y/N said to Anakin. She then looked to Obi-Wan, mind reeling. “And it’s nice to see you again.” She then left to follow Padmé and Dormé, cheeks burning.

Y/N spent the afternoon into the evening with Padmé and Dormé, going over documents and discussing her next moves. Y/N did most of the clerical work, leaving the politics to Padmé and Dormé, who knew the ins and outs. Although Y/N had picked up a lot, she still felt overwhelmed by the current climate and all its complexities. The whole time, she was hyper aware that Obi-Wan was in the other room, doing who knows what.

As the evening fell, Padmé excused Y/N, asking her to return tomorrow morning. She was thankful, as the eventful day had her tired, as surely Padmé was as well. At least she knew that Padmé would take it easy for the rest of the night, forgoing any further work until morning. Exiting the room, holopad in hand, Y/N saw Anakin and Obi-Wan talking on the balcony. She hoped they wouldn’t notice her, allowing her to slip out quietly, though the chances of this were likely slim. In all honesty, she had no idea how she would handle being so close to Obi-Wan for the foreseeable future, unable to acknowledge the circumstance of their last meeting and pretending as if they hadn’t gone on a romantic escapade.

Perhaps feeling her eyes upon his back, Anakin turned, catching Y/N staring. To her surprise, he gave her a small smile, which she anxiously returned before whipping her head forward. She walked quickly to the turbolift, hoping that somehow Obi-Wan would remain ignorant of her growing uncertainty.

Her alarm blared and she hastily reached over to turn off the cacophony of noise. She laid in bed for a quiet moment, still groggy but remembering the events of the day prior. She groaned upon the realization that she’d be forced to face Obi-Wan, all with the intent not to embarrass herself. She envied his even manner which gave nothing away, not letting anyone know of their odd history. As she pondered over this, she felt a pang in her heart at the thought that Obi-Wan was completely unaffected by her presence. Yes, Y/N had a series of relationships since her single, solitary kiss with Obi-Wan, but that didn’t take away from the fact that she was entirely unprepared to ever see him again. Until now, Obi-Wan was a fleeting yet meaningful moment in her life, one which Y/N would look back on every once in a while with an immature sadness. The thought of him, someone who was so kind, so bright, so considerate, unable to form any romantic attachments, was poignant to say the least. When this kind of thinking arose, she’d kick herself for giving it the time of day. You only met him once, you only kissed once, what's the big deal?

Y/N got ready for the day with the intent of forgetting about Obi-Wan, focusing on the far more pressing matters. Today would likely consist of setting up calls with many different Senators, some of which would want to discuss the recent attack, others who would simply want to argue about the motion to create an army. Further, Y/N had no clue how long Senator Amidala would stay on-planet, so she would have to get to organizing all she could before she was off somewhere else. As she brushed her teeth, Y/N stared at her reflection in the mirror, paying far too much attention to how she looked. Just as she had sworn off thinking about Obi-Wan, the image of herself brought back feelings of insecurity. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what Obi-Wan thought when he first saw her again, thinking that perhaps his placidity came from the fact that he no longer found her attractive. Although she tried to brush the thought of him away, she didn’t stop herself from putting on her best work-appropriate outfit.

In a kind gesture, Padmé sent a speeder to pick Y/N up from her apartment, again accompanied by a guard. She made small talk with him on the way to Padmé’s in an aim to calm her nerves, which despite all her efforts still bubbled beneath the surface. When Y/N arrived, she saw Padmé and Dormé sitting opposite each other in the seating area, multiple holopads and projections on the table between them. Off to the side, Obi-Wan and Anakin stood, Anakin seeming on guard and brewing with energy. Padmé looked up from her work, waving Y/N over to sit with them.

“There was another attack,” Padmé said, voice even and calculated, “I’m leaving for Naboo tomorrow.”

“Why not today, milady?” Y/N asked, full of concern.

“I must leave on an unregistered transport, it will take some time to organize,” Padmé explained. Seeing Y/N’s worries, she placed a hand on her shoulder for reassurance. “I will be alright, Anakin will be with me.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a bit better. She wondered why Obi-Wan would not be joining her, though didn’t ask.

“In the meantime, we must get as much done as we can. I doubt I will be able to work much in hiding.”

With that, they all got to work. Y/N was mostly silent, leaving Dormé and Padmé to talk over the majority of her decisions. Padmé received a warm call from Senator Organa, who extended any help to her that he could offer. Y/N never had the chance to work under him, though she expected it would be much like working for Padmé. To Y/N, they seemed to be the only two honest and truly kind politicians in the galaxy, setting them in stark contrast to the increasingly unscrupulous nature of the Senate at large. Amidst the growing chaos, Y/N hardly paid attention to the two Jedi guarding the apartment.

Some time that morning, Padmé decided to move to a different room which housed a large table so that they could spread out more. Y/N was off to the side, plugging away as usual, happy that her responsibilities seemed mild in comparison to Padmé and Dormé’s.

Y/N hadn’t even noticed that they had worked well into midday, brought up from her work when Dormé suggested they break for a short lunch. They were all left with a little free time, as it would take a bit for the chef to prepare their meals. That was one thing Y/N loved about working at Padmé’s apartment; the chef. Padmé and Dormé left the room as Y/N finished the last few sentences of her address to another Senatorial aide, sighed deeply as she sent it along.

Walking into the main living space, she found Padmé standing beside one of the long floor to ceiling windows speaking to Anakin. Padmé’s smile was calm, and for the first time in a while she seemed genuinely relieved. If Y/N didn't know better, it looked as though Padmé and Anakin were close, long time friends, used to seeing one another. Her eyes were taken away from the pair, drifting to Obi-Wan who was pouring over something on his holopad. He too appeared incredibly natural, though tense in the shoulders. If it weren’t for his robes, he could've been just another aide hard at work.

Y/N lazily walked over to the balcony, pushing open the large glass doors and feeling the cool air of Coruscant brush against her face. She sighed with contentment, taking in the view of the city from such a great height. It wasn’t often that she was so high like this, nearly above the clouds. It was as close to peaceful as she’s had in a while, not since her last visit to Corellia several years ago. A few minutes passed, Y/N’s mind wandering to the various tasks which still needed to be done before Padmé left for Naboo.

She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind her. She glanced back, expecting to see Dormé or perhaps Padmé, only to find that it was Obi-Wan. Her heart rate picked up as she took in his regal appearance, robes tidy and neatly tucked. He smiled softly as if to ask permission to join her. She returned it the best she could, trying to push her nerves down. He came up beside her near the railing and looked out, sighing to himself. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to peek at him, fearful that her emotions would too clearly show upon her face.

“I’m glad to see you working in the profession you wanted,” Obi-Wan said, voice abundantly friendly, yet somewhat professional in nature. Y/N bravely glanced at him with a kind expression, genuinely pleased that he remembered.

“Yes, I am too,” she paused, realizing that unlike before, it wouldn’t be awkward to mention his profession. “And now you’re a Master, with a padawan of your own. Congratulations,” she said honestly.

He chuckled, “Thank you.” Obi-Wan shifted his weight to one foot, turning to look at her profile. “Truly, I am pleased to see you again.”

“I’m a bit surprised you remembered me,” she let slip, growing a bit more comfortable with the exchange. Her teasing earned another small chuckle from him.

“I don’t easily forget,” was all he said in return, leaning an elbow on the railing.

Y/N fully turned towards him, met with the same face she saw that night in the club as they both stood at the bar. Now, his jaw was partially obscured by a beard. She thought it suited him, as did his longer hair. She wanted to tell him so, but decided against it, not wanting to break what felt like a fragile moment.

“I’ve since visited Corellia,” Obi-Wan began again, tone still light.

Y/N smiled at him, brows slightly raised. “You did?”

“Yes, though as you might expect, I was occupied most of the time. However, it did not disappoint.”

Y/N realized he was very much still the same, though perhaps more subtle in his cheekiness.

“I’ve been back as well, though only a few times. It’s still as boring as I remembered,” she joked.

“Now, I am sure you are longing for boredom as well.”

Something electric shot through her with his words, reminding her more and more of that night. It appeared as though Obi-Wan did not lie; he does not easily forget. A small seed of innocent, foolish hope made its way into her heart. Had he thought about me since then, as I did him? She quickly reprimanded herself, shaking her head to clear the thought away.

“You’re right,” she sighed, “For the Senator’s sake rather than mine.”

Obi-Wan paused, not replying for a moment. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from wondering what was going on inside his mind, which puzzle pieces he was trying to fit together. She had no clue who was attempting to assassinate Padmé, too many possibilities floating around to grasp. However, she was sure Obi-Wan had a much better idea than herself.

“It’s a tricky business we both are in, though all things important are difficult.”

Once again, she was infatuated with his wisdom, which had only grown.

“I bet you are a wonderful master to Anakin.”

He took the compliment well, not as bashful as he once was. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said her name warmly, resurfacing a slurry of emotions she didn’t know still existed. All at once she felt ten years younger, enraptured with her name said in his accent, in his voice.

“I mean it, really. I could hardly imagine trying to lead someone, teach them what I know. The whole thought of it makes me feel like I know nothing,” she was letting more and more of her feelings slip, far more than she originally intended. This morning, she had vowed to be wholly professional, to focus on the job she had to do, not to get caught up in buried emotions. However, there was something about Obi-Wan’s presence that made her too free with her words. It was the same way over ten years ago, where she found herself spilling her guts to an almost stranger. If he stuck around any longer, one of these days she might just get herself into real trouble.

“I’m sure you could, if given the chance. It takes courage to come to a new place, to build a new life. That is something you know far more about than I.” There he went again, melting her from the inside out.

“Perhaps, and I’d have to bet I’d beat you in a typing contest,” she jested.

Obi-Wan let out a hearty laugh, unconstricted and full, “I believe you are right.”

The conversation lulled, with Y/N unsure what to say. Her guards were still up, despite the fact that they were steadily lowering against her will. She wondered how much she could get away with addressing, which facts were off limits and which were okay to mention. Obi-Wan seemed to be perfectly comfortable with speaking about everything but the kiss, though she didn’t want to push her luck.

She settled on something simple, something pertaining to the here and now. “I’m happy Anakin will accompany the Senator, I’m sure she will be safe in his presence.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, glancing down for a moment. “His eagerness often worries me, though it may serve him well with his task,” Obi-Wan said.

“A product of youth,” she commented, amused at the thought of Obi-Wan having to deal with the antics of a young man. She thought that perhaps once, Obi-Wan had done the same to his Master.

“Unavoidable, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan replied effortlessly, turning to look at her face once again. She felt bare under his gaze, as if he could see through her every shield, each mask she wore.

“I’m sure with your guidance he will grow into an exemplary Jedi. I don’t think you could mold him into anything less.” Her flattery was not lost on Obi-Wan, whose ardent smile felt like a flowering bruise, a reminder of his oxymoronic, sweet rejection.

“Your faith in me surpasses that of myself,” he retorted frivolously, making Y/N chuckle. After a pause, Obi-Wan spoke again, “How long have you worked for Senator Amidala?”

Y/N thought for a moment, adding up the years in her head. “About four years now. I hope to work for her as long as she’ll let me. She is by far the kindest boss I’ve ever had,” she laughed a bit with the thought of begging Padmé to let her stay, offering to do anything but go back to working with the other Senators.

Obi-Wan smiled to himself, eyes darting around the skyline. “She is a rarity, no doubt.”

“I’m sure you have worked with a fair few Senators. You must know how…difficult they can be.”

Obi-Wan chuckled with a sigh, seeming surprised by her admission. “Yes, I know what you mean.”

Without thinking, Y/N said what was on her mind, letting it pass through her filters as if it were a smuggler, “I’m glad you have not lost your sense of humor.”

“I need it to deal with Anakin,” he joked, now his turn to surprise Y/N.

She couldn’t stop herself from giggling girlishly, placing a hand over her mouth. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, seeing a mildly devilish look on his face.

“Your sharp tongue must get you into trouble sometimes,” she teased, pushing the limits a bit further.

Obi-Wan tilted his head a bit, shrugging slightly. “It only appears amongst friends.”

Friends. The word danced around her head, bouncing all the way to her chest, pulsing against her heartbeat. She thought that perhaps he was humoring her, throwing her a bone. He couldn’t possibly think of her as a friend, could he? Technically, they’ve only known each other a total of three days, which was far too soon to be friends. Acquaintances, yes. Friends? No. While Y/N struggled with the idea that he might just be indulging her, she was suddenly reminded of a detail of their first encounter, one which she played over and over in her head the days following: I should not have allowed myself such an indulgence.

Obi-Wan glanced back through the glass door, then back to Y/N, who didn’t notice his staring. “Do you still see those whom I met that night?” he asked.

It took a second for Y/N to understand what he meant, remembering he probably never got their names. “Oh, yes, I do. Well, some of them. I still see Ripp, whose father owned the club.”

Obi-Wan nodded, chuckling to himself, “They seemed like a lively bunch.”

Y/N laughed, thinking back to the times they had together while in school. “Yes, they were. Thankfully, we are all doing quite well for ourselves now.”

“I’d say so,” Obi-Wan said genuinely, eyes soft.

Y/N looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “Did you ever find that man?”

“I believe we did,” it sounded almost like a question, as if he wasn’t quite sure.

Y/N wanted to comment on the fact that he had told her he doesn’t forget things, but thought that it might come out wrong. Instead, she focused on the vast expanse of skyscrapers and traffic in front of her. She could sense Obi-Wan looking at her profile, resurfacing her nerves.

“You have not lost your wonder,” he said gently, almost a whisper. Suddenly, she could not stop herself from looking at him, met with his tender expression. His words confused her, throwing her off the delicate footing she had found herself on. Her mind raced with endless possibilities, attempting to decide what he expected her to do, what he wanted her to say in return.

With her breath caught in her throat, she said the only thing that came to mind, “Neither have you.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that seemed too intimate for their odd relationship. Y/N felt honored to have been on the receiving end of such a smile, especially from Obi-Wan. The gesture made her weak, pathetically chasing another look like that, completely insatiable. Amending her earlier thought, Y/N decided that if he stuck around, her truthfulness would not be the only thing to get her in trouble. It seemed as though there were a million things Obi-Wan could get her to do or say with a simple look towards her or a single suggestion. It wasn’t because he was charming or persuasive, or even because he was handsome. No, it was because he listened to her so intently, spoke to her so kindly, and seemed to remember insignificant details from a night which occurred so long ago.

Y/N fought the urge to reach out and touch this cheek, or at least his arm. She yearned to feel something which solidified his presence in front of her, anything to tell her he was real and not a ghost conjured up from her memory. His eyes would have to do for now, sparkling against the midday light, so beautiful Y/N couldn’t possibly have dreamt them.

“I envy your opinion of me,” Obi-Wan said, still soft but with an air of jest, “But I feel you may be wrong.”

She shook her head instantly, bewildered by his statement. She wondered how he could possibly think that about himself, while at the same time saying such kind things about herself.

He laughed quietly, taking his eyes from her. Mourning the loss of their clear blue color, Y/N stayed staring at face, wanting to soak up every second she had with him on the balcony, where everything seemed simple.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she countered.

He glanced at her with a playful smirk. “For a moment I thought you had grown a bit more shy, but I see that I was wrong.”

She chuckled, feeling embarrassed by his words. Her whole body was burning hot, despite the high altitude breeze that came whipping past.

“I’ve just learned when to hold my tongue,” she joked, relaxing a bit as the intensity of the moment began to lift.

“I only wish Anakn had your skills,” he sounded serious, but Y/N could tell he was joking by his upturned lips and the crinkle on the corners of his eyes. His sarcasm was new, though it did not feel unnatural, for his wit had always been sharp as a blade. Y/N giggled to herself, thinking of Obi-Wan talking to his padawan, pestering him with father-like nagging.

“Something amusing?” Obi-Wan teased, though played it off as if it was a genuine question.

She shook her head. “No, no,” she faltered for a moment, chuckling to herself, “Are all Jedi as funny as you?”

Obi-Wan sighed as if to think it over, “Perhaps, if you get to know them.” As Y/N was beginning to get caught up in his hidden meaning, he spoke again, “Are all Senatorial aides as diligent as yourself?”

His question caught her a bit off guard, and she wondered if he had peeked into the room and seen her working. The idea sent butterflies soaring in her belly.

“No,” she laughed, “But it’s easy to be devoted when Senator Amidala is leading you.”

“You think quite highly of her,” Obi-Wan said a bit curiously.

“Yes,” she answered without thought, “I do.”

“I know how much of a gift it can be to be led by such an admirable example,” Obi-Wan said, voice a bit far off.

“You’re thinking of your master?” she asked hesitantly, hoping not to overstep her bounds. Obi-Wan nodded, though his smile had faded. His eyes, too, were not as bright as they were before. “I’m sorry, if you don’t want to talk about it-” she rambled, fearing the worst.

Obi-Wan gave her a sad smile, but his face soon turned neutral. “It’s quite alright. He died many years ago,” he confessed. Y/N felt a devastating privilege to have received such an admission, surprised that he gave it so freely.

“Oh,” she said without thinking, “I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan. I didn’t know.”

“How could you,” he said, unperturbed, the sadness on his face all but washed away. She wondered where he got his resilience, so that she could get some for herself.

“He was a good man, and a fine Jedi,” Obi-Wan began again, sounding as if he was speaking only to himself. Y/N clung to every word, hanging on tightly to anything he chose to tell her. “Though he was a bit more like Anakin than myself.”

Y/N smiled, which soon turned into a grin when Obi-Wan gave her a mischievous sideways glance. “Just think of it as practice.”

“Yes,” he chuckled, pausing for a moment, “I was lucky to have him, as I am lucky to have Anakin as my padawan,” his tone was deeply warm and full of love.

Y/N couldn’t believe that he so readily told her about his life in this way, how openly he shared small, intimate details. While his words alone were not particularly notable, the way he said them told her that he was bearing little pieces of his innermost world. She wondered how many people were lucky enough to see him like this, punishing herself for assuming that she was special in some way. Perhaps he was always this open, this unfettered in conversation. Regardless, she craved a deeper look, even if it was just a peek like a sliver of light coming through a slightly open door.

After her internal gushing over Obi-Wan’s divulgence, she noticed him looking somewhat hesitant. It was the first time he faltered since their reintroduction, his expression seeming foreign and unlike his usual self, although Y/N couldn’t deny that she wasn’t the leading expert on the matter. She cocked her head, flashing him a confused look.

“What?” she asked, clueless as to what he was thinking.

He looked down reticently, quickly bringing his eyes back to hers without any shyness. “Do you have children of your own?” he said it innocently, as if he wasn’t nervous at all.

Thinking perhaps she had misread his expression, Y/N laughed a bit at the question, “No, I do not.”

“Then you are free of that particular headache,” he chuckled, and Y/N laughed along.

“I can barely take care of myself,” she joked.

“You doubt yourself far too often,” Obi-Wan paused, watching her face, “and ignore how far you have come.”

His kindness spread through her like the tranquil waters of Corellia she used to swim in during the summer months, waves falling in a steady ebb and flow. She sighed, staring at her hands which rested on the railing. What could she possibly say to him, what words could express what she felt while also concealing the attraction which had begun to float to the surface?

Before she could think of a reply, Dormé opened the door, causing each of them to turn.

“Our meal is ready,” she said with a small smile.

“Thank you, Dormé,” Y/N replied, heading back into the apartment with Obi-Wan following behind. Padmé was already sitting at the table, along with Anakin. Y/N and Dormé sat down opposite the pair.

“Join us, Obi-Wan,” Padmé offered.

Obi-Wan looked a bit hesitant. “I’ll keep guard, milady,” he said, walking over to the entrance near the turbolift.

“Captain Typho is on watch,” Padmé insisted, “Please, come eat.”

Obi-Wan sighed, giving in quickly to Padmé’s request. He took a seat beside Anakin, directly in front of Y/N. She grew a bit nervous, forced to face him directly, but her attention was diverted as the meals were placed on the table.

“So, how did you two meet?” Padmé asked Obi-Wan and Y/N, beginning to tuck into her food. Y/N should have known the question was coming, but she was a bit bewildered nonetheless. Her mouth opened to answer, but she was at a loss for words.

“I was on a small mission here in Coruscant,” Obi-Wan began cooly, “Y/N was kind enough to offer a bit of help.”

Anakin smirked to himself as Padmé looked towards Y/N, unaware that she was currently fighting off jitters. Y/N nodded, knowing that she should speak.

“He was looking for someone, but I was no help,” she said in an even tone, picking at her meal.

“Surely something must have happened,” Anakin commented, a bit of mockery in his voice, “How else would you remember each other?”

Obi-Wan smiled, completely nonchalant. Y/N was left wondering how nervous she truly looked, hoping she was playing it as well as Obi-Wan, but seriously doubting her abilities.

“If I am remembering correctly, a friend of yours knew the man that I was searching for,” he answered, taking a bite.

“Yes,” she said with a breath, regaining her composure, “His father had kicked him out of the club some time before.”

“The club?” Anakin asked with a raised brow, a smirk playing upon his lips. Realizing her mistake, Y/N felt heat creep up her cheeks. Padmé laughed a bit, though Y/N could not tell if it was due to her reaction or Anakins.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan clipped, side-eyeing his padawan, “You’re no stranger to them.”

Obi-Wan’s jab did not seem to affect Anakin, who looked rather pleased with himself. Y/N focused on her food, not wanting to face the eyes which were surly looking at her. Normally, she wouldn’t be embarrassed if people knew she went to clubs, especially in her younger years. However, there was something off about mentioning it in front of a Senator and two Jedi. It felt as though she had admitted to committing a strange sort of crime.

“What an odd string of fate,” Padmé said pleasantly, smiling at the others. “It is not often that we are reunited with such fleeting acquaintanceships in a city this large.”

“You are right, milady,” Obi-Wan said, seemingly unbothered by the whole ordeal.

“Yes, it is quite funny,” Y/N forced herself to say, fearing that her silence may enact suspicion.

Thankfully, no one brought it up for the rest of the meal. At first they discussed politics, though soon Obi-Wan went on to share a few stories of missions he and Anakin had gone on over the years. Y/N listened with interest, holding onto every word. Obi-Wan was an excellent storyteller, she realized, finding herself content just to hear his voice. When the meal was finished, Padmé and Dormé went to discuss the details of the plan with Obi-Wan, excusing themselves to speak privately in another room. Y/N was left with Anakin, who was to keep watch while Obi-Wan was occupied.

With her holopad in the other room, Y/N was left to kill time on her own. She walked over to the large windows, watching the speeders fly past, criss-crossing lanes along the skyline. She soon began to worry about Padmé, wishing that whoever was behind the attacks would somehow slip up and reveal themselves. It was a futile hope, but there was nothing else she could do. So deep in thought, she did not hear Anakin coming up to stand beside her.

His voice came without warning, “I have a feeling there is more to you than meets the eye.”

She jumped, placing a hand on her chest as her head whipped around to see him. He chuckled at her unease, and she gave him a weary smile. However, it soon left when she processed his words.

“What do you mean?” she asked, still a bit fretful from the scare.

He let out a slow chuckle, looking out the window instead of at her. “I know my master well, better than most. Which means I know when he is concealing the truth.”

She inhaled shakily, her hands coming together, fingers winding around with nervousness. Something in her face or tone must have slipped during lunch, letting Anakin in on her secret. She bit her lip, wondering what to say and how to deny it.

He smirked, eyeing her steadily. “Something else happened.”

She shook her head, deciding to act as if she had no clue what he was talking about. “No, it really is as simple as what he said.”

Anakin laughed again, “You are a terrible liar.”

She wanted to groan, knowing it was fruitless to play ignorant. She decided on a new game plan: tell him as little as it takes to satisfy his curiosity.

“Fine,” she surrendered, wavering a bit, “I bought him a drink. A single drink.”

Anakin stared at her, spurring her on. As she gave her a resolute look back, he raised his brows. “You know I know that's not all.”

She faltered, feeling his provocation pulling her towards his will. Unwisely, she had thought her admission would be enough for him.

“I promise not to tell my Master,” he offered.

After a long pause, she gave in, knowing he would not easily let the matter go. “We got talking, just small talk. I asked him if he’d ever been around Coruscant while he’s not working, and he said no, and I…” she trailed off, scared that she would reveal too much if she went any further.

Anakin’s eyes lit at the confession, and he let out a happy sigh. “You see, I knew my Master wasn’t as good of a padawan as he says he was,” he laughed, “He’s probably reeling, worrying that I would find out.”

She shot him an angry look, afraid that he would tell Obi-Wan of her indiscretion. Anakin rolled his eyes, waving a hand in her direction.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell, even though I want to,” he drawled, looking proud that he had gotten the secret from her. He crossed his arms over his chest, standing tall. Y/N would have been infuriated if her embarrassment wasn’t so strong. While Y/N overthought their interaction, running it over in her head until the words sounded foreign, Anakin strolled off as if nothing had happened.

She was left a bit stunned until Padmé, Dormé, and Obi-Wan emerged from the room. Obi-Wan went over to Anakin, telling him that he would have to leave. He sounded quite urgent, but his composure did not waiver. Anakin only nodded, and with that Obi-Wan left without a goodbye. Usually so polite, Y/N guessed that the matter likely pertained to the assassination attempts, which had doubled over the course of a single day.

Padmé walked over to Y/N, calm and collected as she always was.

“Y/N, you are free to go back to the Senate,” her voice was tenacious, strong-willed as always.

Y/N nodded. “Yes, milady. Would you be needing anything else from me before I leave?”

“No, that's alright,” Padmé answered with a smile, “I’m not sure when I will be in contact with you next, so give all messages to Jar Jar, who will be representing me in my absence.”

Y/N bowed, going over to her workspace to collect her things. She had a feeling Padmé would be getting ready to depart tomorrow, and it was safer for her to have Y/N know as little as possible. She was already a bit surprised they let her know that Padmé would be leaving Coruscant, though she had been working with her for some time. Y/N was warmed by the thought that the Senator trusted her so much, feeling a bit proud of the work she had done thus far.

Y/N returned to the Senate to get the rest of her work completed, not even realizing that she might never see Obi-Wan again until the end of the day. When the thought came, a wave of sadness drifted all around her, especially since she hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye. In spite of all her efforts, she felt the same as she did over a decade ago, sitting on the bench in the Plaza as Obi-Wan faded into the crowd. It was stupid, foolish, and entirely immature, but her mind could not release its hook from their conversation on the balcony. She went over every word, every expression, each twitch of the lips. Instead of pushing the memory away as she should, she held it tighter, embracing it with open arms. It only appears amongst friends. You have not lost your wonder. You doubt yourself far too often, and ignore how far you have come. I don’t easily forget, I don’t easily forget, I don’t easily forget. It was if his words were echoing around the empty office, fading out into space only to begin once more. The letters rolled on top of each other, spinning into a melodious song sung in his pleasant voice.

As she left work, she walked slowly down the wide corridors of the Senate building, arms limp at her sides. A haze of melancholy enveloped every step, dulling the click of her shoes against the polished stone floor. During the taxi ride home, she looked out of the window like she always did, following the lines of the buildings with her eyes, locking onto a particular point until it was lost in her peripheral. The noise of the city outside was dulled in her ears, as if she was listening underwater. She thought of Obi-Wan, his copper hair, his aquamarine eyes, then dismissed it, back and forth into oblivion. She told herself it was not by fate that they met again, that his words were simply friendly and meant nothing, though her efforts were in vain. Every irrational bone in her body overpowered her feeble attempts to break them or expose their falsehoods. It was a losing battle, so she pushed it off as best she could, telling the soldiers it could wait until morning.

Her head pounded to the beat of the alarm clock like a punishment for the day before. Turning off the vexatious beeping, she headed straight for the ‘fresher to take some pills for the pain. She shook her head at herself in the mirror, tsking her half-witted hope that somehow Obi-Wan would fall for her again. Even if he did happen to feel the same, he was older now, not so impulsive. He’d never let the past repeat itself. Y/N had to remind herself that she was an adult now too, that she would have to get over her childish infatuation and move on. It wasn’t as if she’d never dated anyone since then. They were never quite like him, though.

In order to regain some sense of normalcy, she went about her routine in the same way she always did. When it was time to dress, she found herself staring into her closet at all the clothes she had hanging there, her nice outfit piled in the hamper. She chuckled at her ridiculous decision to wear what she did the day before, somehow thinking that it was important to look nice for a man she could never have.

The taxi ride to the Senate was longer than usual, traffic congested but thankfully never completely stalled. It was only a few hours into the day and already it was turning out awful, though Y/N’s patience was thin to start out with. Unlike the previous evening, she walked quickly through the Senate to her office, giving the people she passed a cordial, but somewhat frigid smile. She didn’t know if she’d be able to get through the pleasantries of “how are you?” or “nice to see you again”, thinking it better just to get to her office and hole up there until she was ready to go back home. On the bright side, today her mind would remain busy with work, unable to muse over other things.

Only a few people popped into the office that morning, mostly for a quick word and nothing more. It was a blessing that everyone was incredibly swamped as well, unable to take any down time to chat. Every once in a while, when Y/N wondered if Padmé was off planet yet, or something came in mentioning the assassination, she was practically forced into thinking about Obi-Wan. With how much he was likely occupied, she thought it would be highly improbable that he was thinking of her at all, even in passing. His work was important, far more important than her own, demanding diligent, careful attention. Despite these small reminders of him, they did not stick around like they had last night, remaining fleeting and pulled from her mind when she looked back at her holopad.

It was the afternoon, the sun over its peak, slowly descending over the city. A ray shined through the curtainless window, specks of dust revealed in the air which looked almost like falling snow. Deep in thought, Y/N jumped as the door wooshed open, her head shooting up from the holopad. As she looked at the door, her breath caught in her throat, making it feel as though she had forgotten how to breathe. There in her office, Obi-Wan was standing, his brown robe skimming the floor, eyes wide as if he was surprised by his own entrance. Y/N stood abruptly, her chair pushing out behind her and bumping the wall.

“Obi-Wan,” she said in shock, or perhaps as a question. He took a step into the room, then went to take another, though stopped in his tracks.

“Y/N, I,” he paused, swallowing, “I never got a chance to say goodbye. I’m leaving now, and I am unsure as to when I will return.”

“Oh,” was all she could muster, still paralyzed and unmoving.

He looked down for a moment, hands clasped together. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said with a small smile. She didn’t return it, still too stunned to do anything but stare at him. Obi-Wan promptly turned and left, the door closing behind him.

She just stood there, her thoughts a thousand miles high. She questioned if Obi-Wan had really just come into the office or if it was a figment of her imagination, created by her night-long mulling over of the day before. Her breaths remained shallow as her thoughts caught up to themselves, their summersaults ending with a finale of fireworks erupting between her ears. She was baffled by his entrance, completely unaware of his motives. Gradually, all else dropped away but her need to find Obi-Wan, to ask him if had really come back only to say goodbye, or if he had something else to say. Her mind willed her legs to move, but they stayed still, frozen in time.

“Come on,” she whispered to herself, not hearing her own voice, “run.”

With that her body finally obeyed, and she rushed to the door, huffing as she pressed the button to open it. Her feet carried her flying down the hall, not noticing the people who stopped to stare at her along the way. She skirted around every corner, the white walls and metal doors a single blur like the swipe of a wide paintbrush. When she came upon the exit to the landing platforms, it was as if the wide door was encased in the glowing light of a new sun, calling her to come through to the other side. Thankfully, the door was motion censored, saving her the precious few seconds that would be needed to open it. As she emerged, the sun shined in her eyes, and she placed a hand on her forehead as a shield. Frantically, she looked around for Obi-Wan, scanning every ship for movement, only to find every ship near to her vacant.

In the distance, she saw the loading ramp of a ship descend, euphoric at the sight of Obi-Wan’s brown robe. She began running towards him, sprinting faster as she saw him beginning to board. Fearing that she would be too late, she called out his name. Obi-Wan's face was hidden within the ship, though she could see him stop. He looked down and saw her, though Y/N wasn’t close enough to tell the details of his expression. As she neared, the realization of what she was doing set in, bringing about a wave of uncertainty. However, it washed away when she saw Obi-Wan’s face.

She stood at the base of the ramp, panting from her impromptu workout. She locked her eyes with Obi-Wan’s, which were soft, brilliantly gleaming as they stared across her face. Her once racing mind was all but empty, filled only with the serene happiness of having caught Obi-Wan before he took off. Neither she or Obi-Wan said a word, though he smiled thoughtfully like he had a secret. Stars, he must think I’m some kind of crazy person.

Despite her lack of shame or uneasiness, she fumbled with her words, not knowing how to express what she wanted to.

“I,” she began, a doting smile beginning to peek through, “I feel like this is completely foolish,” she paused, bringing her hands up to her face for a moment, “Stars, I just can’t let you leave without telling you.”

“Tell me what?” he murmured, his smile growing slightly more noticeable.

Her gaze drifted from his, overwhelmed by her boiling face and heart which was beating so fast she ought to be concerned. Even though she had thought about doing this all last night, running over what she would say and what she would do, the reality of it was unfamiliar territory. She was flying blind, attempting to find anything that could point her in the right direction.

Finding a bit of courage left, she glanced back into her eyes, crystal blue and clear. Within them she saw something new, the knowledge of what he was thinking in this very moment. Without another word or thought, she leapt up the ramp towards him, following all the instincts she had at her disposal. Throwing her arms around his neck, she crashed her lips to his, a sparkling fuzz running down her spine and into her limbs. Much differently than last time, Obi-Wan did not hesitate to return her kiss, falling into it along with her. He held her body to his, pulling her a bit off of the floor and fully into his embrace. Their lips moved as if they had kissed a thousand times, synchronized in each other's affection. She felt the tickle of his beard against her cheek, his hands gripping her waist tighter as she gasped.

Breathless, she pulled away, only enough to suck in a gulp of much needed hair. Obi-Wan did the same, breath uneven and shaky as if he had just been in battle. Y/N stared into his eyes, watching as their surprise settled into something else, something tender. A blush had formed upon his cheeks, peeking out from his beard and dotting across his nose. The rush in her ears was gone, replaced by the low hum of the ship and the soft sound of her hands upon his robes. She held him tighter, dreading the moment when she would finally have to let go.

“Will I see you later?” she asked, not bothering to disguise her pleading and desperate tone. She didn’t know what she was expecting him to do, but his wide grin pleasantly surprised her.

“Yes,” he said with a long exhale, studying her face. She grew warm with the attention, even though they had just done much more than look at each other. Something about his gaze was always so intense, more passionate than she could easily handle. It was as if flustering her came naturally to him, like he was born to make her shy.

Finally, he slowly set her down, and she relaxed her beskar-like grip she had on his shoulders. Her hands settled on his chest briefly before falling down at her sides, already missing his touch. She was unsure what to say, but as usual, Obi-Wan was not at a similar loss for words.

“Perhaps it is the absence, but you’ve grown even more beautiful,” the fondness of his voice did not escape her, bringing about a buzzing feeling in her stomach.

She felt her knees nearly buckle, growing impossibly weak at his words. With them, all her fears and worries about herself subsided, and she felt like the most beautiful person in the galaxy. Forcing herself not to look down at her feet, she gave Obi-Wan a sickly sweet smile, agonized by how much she cared for him in so little time. He was smiling as well, pleased by her total disarmament. She longed to tell him how handsome he was, how well he had grown into himself, but she felt the time quickly slipping away. Knowing he needed to leave soon, she stepped back, still grinning ear to ear. She bit her lip, giddy with the reemergence of her clandestine romance, now with the promise that Obi-Wan wasn’t gone for good.

“Be safe,” she said softly, making her way partly down the ramp. Obi-Wan chuckled, looking self assured as he stood in the entrance of his ship.

“I always am,” he answered, voice smooth and warm like Gatalentian tea.

Mustering up every bit of her willpower she had, Y/N turned and walked down the ramp and into the landing platform. The ramp closed behind her, and she rushed off near the entrance of the Senate building. She watched as the ship powered up, rising into the air before zooming away all too quickly. It was bitter to watch him leave, though their parting felt parsecs different than the last time. From all she knew about him, Obi-Wan was not in the habit of lying, and her chances of seeing him again were close to certain. With his ship out of sight, Y/N dreamily walked back into the Senate, feeling light as a feather.

101 notes · View notes

persephone-writes · 7 months

Text

On the Streets of Coruscant: Part Two

Obi-Wan x Fem!Reader

Read Part One (posted on my old account @persephone-writes2)

Obi-Wan image by ObmanBalagan on pinterest

Word Count: 9.7k

Notes: Sooo, full warning, I hate this, but I'm posting it anyway! This takes place during Attack of the Clones, so I had to change a few things around to fit in the reader (some things just happen because I said so lol) This also means that I HAD to include Jar Jar. I attempted at writing dialogue for him but I just couldn't bring myself to, so I tried my best to just have him barely be there lmao. Also, mullet obi-wan is top tier and I will die on that hill