#and she tries to end his life at the end of a magenta light saber

[separatist-apologist]

Answering the "prompt"- Lucien "the most daring pilot in the galaxy" and Elain, " his sexy Naboo senator wife" for one person + me. I meant for this to be so smutty. In my head it was so pornagraphic. and you know what, if people like this, it can be multiple parts. I'll write how these two dingbats met.

Anyway, my Elucien SW AU is SFW and rated E for Eww where is the smut?

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Swoop, duck, fire—Lucien’s thoughts were cut off by a too bright explosion and the warning trills of his nav droid.

You have an eighty percent chance of death, the machine beeped, irritation laced through each tone. Lucien only laughed, rejoining the fray with a relish. Swoop, duck, fire, he told himself, looping away from the spiraling tie fighter. What was supposed to be a routine patrol through the mid-rim had turned into a fire fight and Lucien couldn’t pretend he wasn’t exhilarated. This was what he lived for, the rush of adrenaline, the orange against an onyx sky, and the knowledge that when he left, he’d made the galaxy a little bit safer. Every day the remnants of the Empire were allowed to inch forward made them bolder. This moment and every one after it was a reminder of what they’d lost and what they still had left to lose. Lucien was all too happy to take it all.

He took down another tie with a loud woop of exuberance just as his nav panel lit up with an incoming call. He glanced down, stomach sinking.

Elain Archeron—incoming transmission.

He swore she must be force sensitive. It was like she could see everything he did, knew every promise he broke without needing to be there. He’d sworn this was merely a routine patrol and here he was, knocking out his fourth tie. Lucien ignored the call with no small amount of guilt, focusing on his quarry.

That last blast sent the remaining ties scurrying back for hyperspace, retreating further into the unknown reaches of the galaxy. Let them rot, he though with satisfaction. They deserved no less than a quiet passing, unmourned and unmissed. Lucien looked back to his nav deck, his droid beeping through his helmet.

Should I call Elain back?

“No, BD,” Lucien replied too quickly. Better to ask forgiveness that permission and better to ask when they were in front of each other. She was less likely to shout if he could kiss her as he begged.

Signaling to his squad it was time to head back, each flyer punched the coordinates to Coruscant’s hyperspace lane. With nothing to do, Lucien thought of what excuse he might offer Elain for today’s skirmish. He hadn’t gone looking for it, but Lucien never backed down from a fight. Elain wouldn’t be thrilled and when it came to his wife, the fearsome senator from Naboo, Lucien knew there was no winning the upcoming fight. His best bet was to grovel and hope she missed him so much she was willing to overlook his reckless flyboybehavior.

It took hours to return and by the time Lucien dropped from hyperspace, he was practically sweating. Beneath him, Coruscant was an innocent ball of light, a planet-wide city that drew only the most enterprising of people. Not just anyone could make it on Coruscant—the city swallowed starry-eyed new comers every day, an exacting price for the possibility of fortune and fame. He wasn’t surprise his wife had taken one step onto the planets carved out surface and forced it to bow—Elain was a force of nature in a gorgeous dress. That she’d ever looked his way at all, a no one from Yavin 4, the son of diplomat and a pilot who had made his way to Coruscant looking for a job. Tired of running spice, tired of the endless grind for credits when what he wanted was to make things better. His mother had fought with the resistance, had shot down star fighters, had put a helmet on his head before he’d ever taken his first step. He considered that his legacy and was proud to serve the galaxy no matter how reckless a reputation he'd made.

That the senator of Naboo, the sister to their elected Queen no less, had ever taken more than one look at him still stunned him. Elain had her pick of the galaxy and settled with a man covered in droid oil more often than not. If he’d been smart, he would have never dared anger her lest she get wise and leave him for someone that wouldn’t risk her wrath.

Lucien had never been accused of being smart.

He docked his ship in the naval yard, his clear cockpit rising overhead. The deafening sounds of the hangar nearly knocked him back to his seat. A lifetime of being right next to explosives had left Lucien a little deaf. Loud sounds tended to sound muffled and yet jarring all at once, activating that same adrenaline he felt during an air fight.

Avoiding the members of his squadron, who’d seen the incoming transmission, Lucien all but ran across the city, helmet tucked up beneath his arm. Elain lived in the heart of Republic City, the section of Coruscant dedicated to politics. His wife would be found on one of the upper most levels on 500 Republica, the nicest building in the city. It belonged to her family and before her, Lucien would never have dreamed of stepping foot in the gilded, golden lobby. A glass lift hurtled him upward, away from smog choked air towards the thinner atmosphere where fresh oxygen was pumped in for only those who could afford it.

Elain was waiting in a silky blue night dress, the pearl strung straps caressing the freckled skin of her shoulders. Golden brown curls cascaded about her shoulders, framing her soft, heart shaped face illuminated in the city’s always illuminated glow. When she saw him, she crossed her arms over her chest, pushing the rounded tops of her breasts upwards.

“You promised,” she murmured when the lift closed behind him, leaving him no where to retreat.

He held up his palms. “I couldn’t let them retreat.” It was an admission of guilt, one he couldn’t help but offer. All his excused flew out the window, utterly breathless of the sight of her standing in a pool of moonlight. “Forgive me,” he pleaded, walking to her until there were only inches between them.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Elain reminded him reproachfully. “And I will be left to mourn you.”

“I’m sure there will be a line around the block, starting at my casket. Men from all over the galaxy will come, hoping for a shot at—” “Don’t.”

Lucien shut his mouth, uneasy and mollified. “I’m sorry. Elain, I love you, but…”

“But you’ll always be a reckless flyboy?” she replied, one brow arched upwards. Lucien couldn’t resist the smile that spread over his face, rubbing his calloused hands over the smooth skin of her arm.

“I think you like that about me,” he teased, catching how hard she worked to suppress her smile. “Admit it, sweetheart.”

“I will never,” she replied with all the stubbornness he’d come to cherish. Lucien hauled her up into his arms, fight forgotten. Elain squealed, feet nearly catching him upside the jaw.

“I suppose I will have to torture it out of you,” he warned, walking her through the living room to the spacious bedroom they shared. Elain gasped for breath, her laughter infectious. By the time he tossed her atop the cream duvet, Lucien’s side’s hurt from walking and laughing, too.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Elain begged when Lucien lowered himself atop her. He settled between her legs, sliding the silky material of her night dress up her thigh.

“I need to tell you something,” Elain gasped, rising up on her elbows. “I know you’re frustrated by my requests you stay out of trouble, but I promise I’m asking for unselfish reasons.” “You can’t stand not having a gorgeous guy like myself around,” Lucien agreed, attempting to push her legs wider so he might lie fully between them. Elain reached for his face, stopping him.

“It’s more than that. Of course I need you. You’re my husband.I love you more than my own life, but Lucien, children also need a father and if you’re reckless, who will raise our son?”

Lucien’s brain emptied out, the only sound a soft ringing that never seemed to quite fade. “Son?”

“Or daughter,” Elain amended, eyes searching his own. “I wanted to be sure before I told you—”

“You’re pregnant?” he asked dumbly, warmth filling his chest. “I’m going to be a father?”

Her apprehension melted, replaced by relief. Had she been afraid of his reaction? Lucien sprung forward, yanking her into his arms before realizing he probably shouldn’t be so rough with her. “Elain, that’s wonderful news.”

“It means you’ll have to cut out your more reckless impulses,” Elain warned, her breath hot against his neck. “I have no intention of raising this child by myself.”

“I can ask for fewer patrols. I can train the new recruits,” he swore with only a tinge of disappointment. Elain caressed his face, sliding until the pair were laying in bed facing the other, her fingertips grazing against his cheek.

“You should still patrol,” he murmured, unaware of the relief her words filled him with. “Just not so often. If you must be reckless, at least remember what’s waiting for you at home.”

“My fearsome wife,” he agreed, kissing her softly. “What size helmet do you think a baby wears?”

She smiled then, thumb tracing his bottom lip. “Already planning the baby’s first mission?”

And it was a joke, of course, but he knew she’d bring the baby onto the senate floor with her. Elain would whisper in their little ear, telling them who could be trusted and who couldn’t and all the little tells she’d learned over the years to determine who lied for their own benefit and who truly cared about the galaxy. Their child would be better versed in political warfare than most adults and if they just so happened to be the greatest pilot the galaxy had ever seen on top of all that, well…

“We should get a little hover craft, so the baby can practice.”

Elain’s smile was so beautiful he was blinded momentarily. He cupped her face, unable to believe this was his life. That she was his life. “I love you so much, you know?”

She kissed him back, her lips heartbreakingly soft. “I know you do.”

He settled his knee between her legs, a new thought dawning on him. “You don’t think the baby can—” “Don’t be stupid, Lucien,” Elain replied with an eye roll.

“It was an honest question,” he insisted, sliding a hand over her still flat stomach. Elain nestled her head against his neck, her soft, vanilla scented curls invading his sense. He shifted, nose nuzzling her own.

“A baby.”

“A baby,” she agreed. “Start thinking about names. Goodnames, Lucien. Not ones your droid suggests.”

His outrage was manufactured. “You insult BB-8, who stayed behind so we could be alone tonight.” “I thought I had too much room at the end of this bed.”

He grinned, still cupping her face. Lips touching her own, he asked, “What did I do to get so lucky?”

“It’s a mystery, flyboy,” she replied, carding her fingers through his ponytailed hair. “Don’t mess it up.”

Lucien yanked the covers over their heads. “Wouldn’t dreamof it.”