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teaandjumpers · 2 months ago

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Senate Gossip Ficlet

“Well?” demanded Anakin, needing to know what the senator had said.

“She said—” Padmé hesitated and lowered her voice to a whisper. “She said he was an ass man.”

She paused again. “And that he—he,” she gazed at the wide-rimmed glass in her hand, gently swirling its contents in an effort to avoid looking Anakin in the eyes.

“He what, Padmé?” he asked, growing impatient.

They both glanced at the man in question. Obi-Wan was speaking with two other senators, Mon Mothma and a man Anakin didn’t recognize.

Padmé had been regaling him with some recent gossip about his Master—apparently the Jedi were a favorite topic at senatorial retreats, the more scandalous the tidbits the better.

It seemed that Obi-Wan was brought up on a late night talk with some other like-minded politicians. A woman, the senator from Cantonica, had mentioned that she had it on good authority that his Master was a very giving lover.

The thought didn’t sit well with Anakin, the thought of a group of snivelling senators, Padmé excluded of course, gossiping about Obi-Wan.

But—

Anakin needed to know more.

Obi-Wan had glanced at Anakin a few times throughout the night, giving him warm, secret smiles. It warmed something in his chest, and he smiled back without thought, happy to have his Master close even if it meant attending a stupid war-time fundraiser.

He watched Bail Organa walk past Obi-Wan, clapping a hand against Obi-Wan’s shoulder before making his way towards Padmé and Anakin.

“Bail!” exclaimed Padmé, looking relieved. “What was it that Senator Sellale said about Obi-Wan?”

Bail looked at her with surprise, then glanced at Anakin with uncertainty.

“He wants to know,” said Padmé.

The man took a deep breath and sighed. “I believe the good senator’s exact words were that ‘he loves to eat ass,’” said Bail with little fanfare. “And that he ‘eats it well.’”

Having delivered his proclamation, Bail spread his hands out in a what are you gonna do gesture and left.

Anakin’s mouth dropped, and for a time, he and Padmé regarded Obi-Wan silently.

Obi-Wan must have felt their attention fix on him, because he shot them a curious look, quirking a questioning eyebrow at Anakin.

Padmé made a choked noise, burying the lower half of her face in her glass. Anakin distantly thought, with fondness, that it was the most undignified he had ever seen her.

But he couldn’t even tease her about it, not when a sudden image of his Master, face buried between someone's cheeks, beard sopping wet with his own saliva as he eagerly laved at some whimpering senator’s hole, staked its claim at the forefront of Anakin’s mind.

It played on repeat, Obi-Wan humming against the sensitive skin of someone’s entrance, pulling back to admire his handiwork, and then diving back in, ready to paint some politician’s quivering hole with his spit.

“Well, fuck,” said Anakin.

#obikin #obikin wip #obikin fic #obikin ficlet #obianidala if you squint #my fic

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shadowsong26fic · 8 years ago

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Auxiliaries!Verse Story 1

Story: A Day at the Races, Part 1

Verse: Auxiliaries

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG

Fandom: Star Wars

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker

Summary: Around three years after the Naboo Crisis, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent on a mission to Malastare, and meets a certain champion podracer for the first time...

Warnings: None for this particular bit, I don’t think; there will be for other stories in this AU, the big ones being violence, war, slavery.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: So, a bit of background. This is an AU in which Queen Amidala’s ship stopped someplace other than Tatooine for repairs. (The rest of TPM goes basically as in canon--someone else blew up the control ship, I’m sort of handwaving that detail, at least for now).

Auxiliaries is a little different from how my other stories are structured, in that it’ll be told as a series of short fics/vignettes in the overall AU (the title of which will be explained in later sections), not necessarily in chronological order. It will, as a heads up, probably be Obianidala of some flavor eventually.

This piece I’m posting here is not the first I’ve written/sketched out, chronologically, but it’s probably the best entry point into the AU as a whole, hence why I’m starting here.

I think that covers everything! So, without further ado, A Day at the Races, Part 1 is behind the cut!

Obi-Wan Kenobi had never liked racing. It was too loud, too fast, there was usually at least one death on the track…

But his host--who had been entirely gracious on every subject except the trade agreement whose negotiations Obi-Wan was here on Malastare to facilitate--had insisted.

“Most business on Malastare gets done at the races,” the Dug had informed him, with a sly smile. “Everyone you need to persuade will be there. We have racers coming from all over the galaxy--even a few from outside the Republic proper.”

So Obi-Wan had groaned inwardly, bowed politely, and accepted the invitation. I doubt anyone will be able to hear a word I say, but if this makes the others feel more at their ease, I suppose it might be worth it.

And now, here he was, in a box overlooking a loud, dusty arena, exchanging pleasantries while the racers took their positions. He glanced over them absently, noting a broad makeup of species and designs for the pods. Something kept niggling at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite figure out what, or why.

All will be revealed, he told himself. Have patience, and clarity will come. If it was important enough to distract from his actual mission--well, only time would tell.

“Master Jedi! What a pleasant surprise.” He turned to find Ardee Zendt, a female Gran and another hard-headed trader whose signature he needed. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fan of the races.”

“I’m afraid I must confess my ignorance on the subject,” he said, with a disarming smile he’d perfected over the last few years. “Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me? I understand the racer in the red pod in the center is favored to win?”

“Mm, possibly,” she said. “He’s certainly got the best odds, but you can never tell when there might be a surprise upset.” Her eyestalks shifted a little with humor. “My money’s on the blue racer. See him, there at the end?”

Obi-Wan squinted in the general direction she was pointing--and felt a distinctive thrum through the Force.

On that said, clear as bells, PAY ATTENTION.

Important enough to distract from the trade agreement--yes.

“Oh?” he prompted, keeping his voice light and calm.

“Skywalker, from Tatooine,” she supplied. “The only human who’s ever won a Podrace. He’s been working his way up through the local brackets over the last year or so.”

“I see,” he said. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but then his attention was pulled away by his host, and he had to return to his official business at hand.

Skywalker, he remembered with one part of his mind; the weight of the name--the rightness of the attention paid--settling over him like a second cloak. I’ll seek him out later, I think. See what I might find.

Just as Zendt had predicted, Skywalker had, indeed, won the race. Obi-Wan had kept a close eye on him throughout. There was something about the boy. He had attempted, as subtly as he could manage (mostly by mixing his true inquiries with casual questions about the other racers and the sport as a whole), to gain a little more information about him, but had been frustrated at almost every turn. All he’d managed to learn was that the boy was younger than he’d thought--worryingly young, almost, at approximately twelve--and had completed and won his first major race some two years before. Since then, his success had varied somewhat, but his record was a little better than sixty-forty.

No help for it, Obi-Wan had decided. I’ll have to improvise as I go. He would have liked to have a little bit more to go on, but he certainly couldn’t not approach him, after all. The tremor he’d felt in the Force was quite clear on that.

So, he’d found a polite excuse to slip away from his hosts as they were collecting--or paying--their bets, and wandered down to the track, heading in the direction of the blue pod as if it were a beacon guiding his way.

The boy was with his racer--he must have snuck away from his adoring fans at some point. He was perched precariously on an alarmingly unsteady box, up to his elbows in one of his engines.

And he--

On the ordinary, visual plane, the boy was largely unremarkable. A scrawny twelve-year-old Human, covered in motor oil, with shaggy blond hair that kept falling into his eyes.

But when Obi-Wan stretched out with the Force, he was almost blinded.

How could he--Tatooine, of course; he wasn’t born in the Republic, he was never identified.

The boy paused, wriggled out of the engine, nearly fell off his box, caught himself easily, and blinked up at Obi-Wan. “Oh! Hi. Sorry, sir, I didn’t see you there. You lookin’ for one of the parties?”

All that power, and still just a boy. “No, actually,” Obi-Wan said. “I was rather avoiding them.”

“Me, too,” he said, and wrinkled his nose. “The first couple times were kind of wizard, but they’re mostly really boring, ‘specially when I don’t know anyone there.”

“Oh, I know the feeling,” Obi-Wan said, with a wry smile. “So, you came down to do your maintenance instead?”

“Soon as I could,” the boy said cheerfully. “I like doing it myself.” There was a hint of something other than pure pride in his work buried under there, but he covered it well. Ferreting it would would require a truly invasive scan of the boy’s memories, which was certainly not warranted.

“Do you need a hand?” Obi-Wan asked instead. He wasn’t an expert in mechanics, and he’d never worked with a podracer, of course, but he did have a basic grounding in the principles.

“Uh, sure,” he said, as if surprised by the offer. He considered for a minute, then passed Obi-Wan a wrench. “Here, your arms’re longer than mine. Can you tighten that?”

“Of course.” He stepped past the boy, and found the loose bolt he’d indicated.

The boy watched him for a second then climbed right back up onto his box to get back to work. “When you’re done with that,” he said, voice slightly muffled, “can you check the coolant line on the left engine? It’s been acting wonky all day.”

“Sure.” He moved around to the other side and started running his hands--and his other senses--over the line, looking for leaks. “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he offered, after a minute.

“Anakin Skywalker,” he said, poking his head out to flash Obi-Wan a quick grin. “Pleased to meet you.”

Whatever else the boy might be, his enthusiasm was infectious. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but return the smile, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

#shadowsong26fic #shadowsong writes star wars #auxiliaries!verse

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