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dathomirdumpsterfire · 6 months

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who's ready for more king of the dragonfish??? 🔥

Want to be on the tag list? Have an idea for next chapter? Clicked the wrong option? Reblog or Comment! New? Start 👇🏽here to catch up. Chapter 3 is down below the cut.

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals

(Art by Obimaulartfire! Check out the full cut on their blog, or at the end of chapter 1.)

-Chapter Three-

Maul cackles when the jedi goes limp in his hold. Weak. Defeated. Submissive. Oh, what a beautiful thing it is!

He dumps the other man onto his ass and retreats to the water's edge, nearly euphoric. "Enjoy your prison, Kenobi. I hope you find it very comfortable."

Blue eyes glare at him from the floor, but it only delights him further. Maul rolls backwards on slippery black scales, and disappears into the water.

It is time to let the jedi stew in his dwindling hope. Maul intends to find ways to give it back to him... and take it... and give it... and take it. The perfect game, endless amusement until he decides it is time to break the jedi for good.

He swims gracefully through the cave system, almost dancing through the water in his delight. Maul heads for open seas and the room to move. There is a geyser field not far off, with luminous magma flows on the sea floor which make for warm currents and good hunting. The perfect place to plan his next move.

Kenobi, Kenobi, Kenobi… how to keep a Kenobi? To keep him bloody, barely mobile? To keep him starved, begging for food? To keep him... or to kill him?

Oh, ohhhh, how good it would feel to plunge his claws into the jedi's guts, to tear his liver from him and eat it while he watches, hopeless and dying. The very idea is enough to give Maul the chills.

But only… only once. He can only kill Kenobi once.

It would not do to rush the finale, he thinks. Killing him too quickly would only rob Maul of his due, and spare him the full spread of his just desserts.

The dragonfish sith rides the thermals of the magma field, and tries to focus through his own crazed glee enough to plan. Enough to think through logistics.

How best to keep a Kenobi?

First, containment.

The caves were his home, winding tunnels with multiple air pockets, rooms as big as a cargo bay and as small as a closet. It had always been a boon that some sections went closer to the surface… but did they go too close? How far could a force user go without breathing? He isn't sure, anymore. Some knowledge from his old life is simply gone, decomposed during the process of his rebirth.

He would have to get Kenobi to admit to his own limits.

Hmmm… perhaps putting something the jedi wants into a cave not far from the empty room he was stuck in, and encouraging him to go to it? Then another thing, a little further away. He could see how much effort it took…

Yes, a test. He could design a test. That would do. Later.

What else? …food. Yes, food was important.

Maul snatches a blind eel fish from the rocks, and considers it thoughtfully before tearing it's head off with his teeth. Could Kenobi eat eel? Crab? Can jedi live off the sea as he does? Could their weak stomachs process raw fish? This knowledge is also missing, and what personal references he has to compare it with are spoiled by dint of his original species. Zabrak were obligate carnivores. He is still an obligate carnivore. Unhelpful.

But would a hungry jedi admit what he wanted to eat? Maul could even frame it as a kindness, to keep him off base. Room service in prison, what luxury!

He rolls over in the water, laughing silent bubbles that catch the green glow of his eyes and scatter it. The light attracts a school of small, clear fish. He plucks one from the stream of them and pops it in his mouth like an hors d'oeuvre.

What else, what else…

Containment, nourishment… hm. Maul struggles to think of what else a prisoner might need to survive. Perhaps more will come to him later? He will think on it again. In the meantime, he will go back to Kenobi. Watch him, and see if he tries to escape, to wander, or to get into Maul's private cave. There are weapons there, and he will not be allowed such things.

With sufficient plans for the time being, the dragonfish sith returns, drifting into the water of the prison cave slowly, stealthily. He rises up in a shadowy corner so that only his eyes and ears are above the water line.

The jedi is still there. He is pacing, holding a wristcomm up to his mouth and speaking into it.

"This is jedi master Obi-Wan Kenobi. If anyone hears this message, please contact the temple on Coruscant and inform them that I am trapped underwater in a cave system off the coast of Theed. Tell them Darth Maul lives. You will be rewarded for the effort. Please."

Kenobi draws in a breath, turns to take another lap of the space, and begins again. "This is jedi master Obi-Wan Kenobi…"

Maul covers his mouth with a hand, holding in the snickering that wants to escape and give his position away.

Oh how fun! The fool thinks a little wristcomm has enough signal strength to be heard through leagues of water and stone. Grinning, he sits and watches the other man uselessly call for help, making bets with himself on how long the hope would linger in those blue eyes, how many repetitions it would be before Kenobi gave up begging to empty ocean.

He gets to seventy four repeats before the jedi sits down on a rock, elbows on his knees. One hand holds up his forehead, while the other bears up the comm device to his mouth. At a hundred and sixteen loops his voice trails off, scratchy, and then he falls silent.

Maul slides through the water, going down and under, then coming back up in a pool close to the jedi's left side. He puts effort into stealth, setting his arms on the shore and putting his chin down on them.

There, he waits to be noticed.

Minutes tick by in a pleasant daze. Kenobi sits before him, bent and broken, hope for rescue leaking from him like a cracked glass. Maul watches the man, tail swishing in the water, and thinks he could do this for years. Just sit, and bear witness to Kenobi's growing misery.

The jedi coughs. The dragonfish sith frowns.

Kenobi coughs again, dragging a hand down his pale face.

He is falling ill? Already? Maul scowls ferociously. He is weak! Already he is dying? No! No!

The jedi can only die when he allows it, and not before!

His tail slaps the water in agitation, and they both freeze. The sith quickly wipes all expression from his face, relaxing back onto his forearms as Kenobi turns to look at him.

"Back again, I see," the man says grimly. "Come to kill me?"

Maul grins at him, ever cheered by the idea. The man looks at his mouth and grimaces, seemingly put off by all his excellent teeth.

"Did your allies not return your calls, jedi? What a shame... perhaps they do not want you anymore?" he says, in the tone of a sympathetic confidant. "Do not fret, I will keep you."

"Or you could not," the man suggests dryly. "What worth could I possibly have to you, except for dead?"

Maul laughs at his naivete. "Tell me Kenobi, what do you eat?"

The jedi turns on his rock to face Maul. "Are you taking special requests? Because I would trade my shirt for a shadwa club sandwich right now."

The sith snorts, "Think seafood, imbecile."

Kenobi looks at him, really looks at him, and Maul finds himself compelled to roll his tail, showing off the translucent blue fins and the pretty dots that line him.

He blinks, confused as to where that inclination had come from.

"You're intending to keep me alive then?" the jedi asks.

Maul refocuses, his grin returning as he drags himself up out of the water. He gathers the length of himself beneath his torso and sways closer. "Yesss, jedi. You are here to suffer. You may only know the privilege of death when I am satisfied with my revenge."

Kenobi looks up at him from under long, damp eyelashes, assessing. "I truly doubt you can keep me alive, sith. This cave of yours will run out of oxygen sooner rather than later. I'm already burning through energy trying to stay warm, because everything is wet and freezing cold. I am actively healing myself to handle the pressure acclimation, and I cannot continue for long without a place to rest that won't simply result in hypothermia. Besides, what am I to drink? Saltwater? Hah."

Maul leans back on his tail, brow furrowing.

The jedi stands to meet him, crossing his arms. "I'll be dead in hours at worst, days at best, so you had better decide between watching me asphyxiate, killing me yourself, or letting me go before it happens."

Maul gnashes his teeth in agitation, clawing at the force for answers. No. No! Hours? His revenge cannot end in hours! He has dreamed of it for years!

"Well?" Kenobi asks, droll, "What's it going to be, hmm? Murder or mercy?"

He hisses, "Shut up! I am thinking."

The jedi simply watches him, calm, leaning back on one hip.

Maul flexes his hands, clawed fingers clenching and unclenching. "You will not run out of air. It is always fresh here. Cold… cold. Water. Wetness. Cold. Water." He mutters to himself, thinking of solutions, then raises his chin. "What is most fatal to you, jedi? Which of these threats would steal you away from me first?"

Kenobi looks away, and for a moment it seems as if he's considering the consequences of silence… but then those blue eyes come back around. "The cold. I need to warm up, or my heart will give out."

The dragonfish sith mentally chews on that. He seems warm, to himself, but what temperature is that? Hm. The only thing also warm to him down here are the magma flows… but perhaps their gift could be borrowed?

"I will return," he says, and flips himself back into the water.

Maul swims out to the same field, sinking down and hunting until he finds a brightly lit geyser. The small mountain glows luminous and orange at the core, so hot that even the frigid seawater cannot temper it.

Cautiously, the sith reaches out with the force, pulling on a chunk of molten stone as big as he is. The magma is slippery and uncooperative, but he is determined and far more powerful than mere rock. He pulls a ball of it up and out of the geyser, pushing it through the water and away from the mount by the force.

As it rises the edges cool, becoming a black shell that belies the burning within. Once it is raised high he approaches, finding that it is too hot to touch, but pleasant to be near. Perfect.

Very pleased with himself, Maul swims back to the caves, fighting with the ball to get it through the winding corridor. At one point he has to set the black shell down and batter at an outcropping to make way. When approaching Kenobi's cave, he must also take care to keep the rock from touching the plants and burning their air-giving leaves and light shedding mosses.

He rises from the water perhaps half an hour after leaving. The jedi is in one corner, looking miserable and damp.

What a delightful thing to return to.

Maul drags the magma ball up into the room with the force, where it takes up space at the center. After a moment, steam begins to waft off the surface.

"What in the blazes is that?" asks the jedi, rising to his feet.

Maul points at it, preening, "Warm."

#chat writes the plot #the live feature we actually wanted #star wars #darth maul #sith #dathomir #maul opress #zabrak #nightbrothers #obi wan kenobi #obimaul #obiwan kenobi #Obi-Wan #obiwan #king of the dragonfish #flash fiction #naboo #monster!maul #jedi

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secondaryartifacts · 10 months

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#science fiction #starships #spaceships #2001: a space odyssey #ships #StarCraft #Star Wars #alien #aliens #flash gordon #space 1999 #Star Trek

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pagsys-writings · 2 months

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15. Innocent

There were no innocent people in war. Thrawn knew that without a doubt. Hard decisions always had to be made. Sometimes the “good” side was required to work with… less than savory people. And in war, it was easy to lose yourself — your ideals, your morals. Thrawn wondered when he had lost his — lost himself — and his thoughts wandered, as they were wont to do, to Eli. Had he committed Eli to the same fate as him? Thrawn knew Eli was not innocent per se, not many in the Empire were free of its dark stain, but he was the closest Thrawn had seen. There had been a spark in Eli — something similar to childish excitement or pride — especially when he managed to find a pattern in the data or solve a problem. The thought of Eli losing that spark — himself — to war broke something further inside Thrawn and for the moment, he let guilt overcome him.

#mitth'raw'nuruodo #eli vanto #thranto #star wars fanfiction #101 micro fic prompts #flash fiction #<200 words #listen.#I finished the Thrawn trilogy #and I’m having emotions

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hellowkatey · 1 year

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technically

for Angstpril Day 1: Liar Obi-Wan is asked to take on another facial transformation mission that may ruin his already-strained relationship with Anakin.

For the hundredth time, Obi-Wan wondered if he was doing the right thing.

By this point, Obi-Wan knew this thought was becoming performative. A dilemma posed for his own sanity. This was because he had precedent for this particular type of betrayal.

His relationship with Anakin never fully recovered from the last time he died.

This is different, he repeated to himself when he laid back on the medical table. There will be no theatrical falls or fake funerals. Anakin probably… hopefully… never find out this ever happened.

The large needles that pressed into his head stung far worse than the last time. Obi-Wan’s eyes screwed shut as the facial transformation program initiated.

You’re still lying to him, though.

As far as his former padawan knew, Obi-Wan was deployed in the Outer Rim. He even sent a message that his comms would be limited due to interference from the planet’s atmosphere. That technically was the case with his flagship and the men aboard.

Technically.

There were lots of technicalities these days. Obi-Wan was getting rather tired of them.

Droid casualties were technically not loss of lives.

Jedi were technically trained for battle situations.

Obi-Wan was technically not breaking his promise to Anakin that he wouldn’t lie to him again.

Yet, here he is. One room over from where he was born again as Rako Hardeen the last time he was asked to perform a mission that was technically for the good of the galaxy. Obi-Wan had to be the one to undergo the procedure because he was technically the only one who could play the part accurately.

The machines finally stopped whirring and the pressure subsided. Obi-Wan remained lying back with his eyes shut until the throbbing of his head started to reduce.

What-ifs were already flooding his head. What if…

…the chancellor figures it out?

…the 501st is deployed with the 212th?

…I truly am killed on this mission?

…Anakin finds out?

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, finally inching his eyes open to adjust to the fluorescent overhead lamps. A medical droid hummed with satisfaction and then handed him a mirror.

“Facial transformation is complete. I will be right back with the voice modulator, Master Kenobi,” the droid said and buzzed away.

Obi-Wan held the mirror's reflective side down for a long moment. His stomach turned just thinking about the face he would see staring back at him. Every ounce of the Jedi wanted to call the council and tell him he couldn’t do this. As much as he tried to convince himself the reward was greater than the risk, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure anything was worth the pain it would bring to Anakin and the irreparable damage it would do to their already-strained bond.

I’ve allowed this to go too far. Even if Obi-Wan wanted to stop things, he knew too many pieces were in motion. Now, it truly was more dangerous for him to bail than to go through with the mission.

Chancellor Palpatine had been raising too many red flags with the Jedi Council. They needed more intel on his movements, but there were very few close enough to the ruler that would be willing to report on his private matters. The council suggested asking Anakin, but Obi-Wan quickly shut down their request. Anakin was fiercely loyal to those he cared about— the Chancellor was one of those lucky people.

Obi-Wan slowly turned the mirror around. The clean-shaven face that gradually came into view was horrifically familiar in a way that felt like a saber to the gut. Obi-Wan’s fingers quivered as they traced down the vertical scar that nearly took his right eye.

Forgive me, padawan.

Anakin himself would never betray the Chancellor.

But… perhaps the Chancellor would reveal his true character to one he believed was Anakin.

#angstpril2023 #star wars #tcw #fic #liar #day1 #post-deception arc #trying to get back into writing by doing some flash fiction for angstpril #rako hardeen #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #chancellor palpatine

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darth-maul-of-dathomir · 2 months

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This may have been a mistake. I have invoked a witch hunt in the most literal sense, through no fault of my own.

I found a woman and her... whatever they call their nightbrothers... tending a shop of curiosities. The witch herself seemed to be blind. I assumed this would be an opportunity to ask about the singing stone without being identified as night clan.

What proceeded was... I can scarcely describe it. Covetousness. Attention that dragged in the neighboring shopkeep. Then customers. A crowd drawn, pressing in. A whirlwind of mating offers. The precise identification I wished to avoid. Alarm. Intrigue.

They all wanted the stone. It seems to be a gift one would offer a witch to earn their favor. A gift worthy of a coven's matriarch, unfortunately. I escaped the crowd and ran when they began to name my grandchildren.

Now I am avoiding detection in someone's back garden, waiting for their curiosity to fade. I still do not know what the stone is. It seems everyone here does except I. Reconnaissance is my only recourse.

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missshezz · 1 year

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Title: Experience

Warnings: None Apply

Rating: All ages

Word Count: 1025

Tags: pre-clone wars movie, Rex and company are sent to help reader, war, death, angst, drama, loyalty, clone protocol

Summary: Rex teaches you a lesson about experience and respect

You spot the battle droid from the corner of your eye. Even with the Force flowing through your veins, you cannot deflect the blaster bolt.

It hits the trooper next to you in the upper part of his chest.

He goes down without a sound.

His pain is a ripple in the Force.

You can do nothing to help ease it, though.

Not with that battle droid rapid firing at you and the clone in command of this small regiment.

His designation number is CT-7567.

If he has an actual name, you don’t know it.

There hadn’t been time for formal introductions. The captain and his men arrived as you found yourself surrounded by a horde of battle droids.

Death seemed imminent.

Something you accepted.

As all Jedi did.

“Sir, watch out!”

You turn to see one of the super battle droid’s advancing towards you, arms raised, intent clear.

You use the Force to throw the droid into the others coming your way.

“Tinnies advancing on the left!” CT-7567 shoots a droid in the head with one of the DC-17 blaster pistols he’s holding. “Deploy droid poppers!”

Immediately, a dozen balls flew into the air.

All arcing in one synchronized motion before dropping in front of the droids.

Streaks of blue strike the droids, frying their circuits, and powering them off for good.

Your reprieve is short-lived, however.

For every one droid that falls, twenty replace them.

“Captain!” you hear. “Clankers advancing on the right!”

“Get ready!” CT-7567 orders. “Give ‘em everything we got!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Soon as the droids are within range, they let loose a barrage of blaster fire. The pings as bolts slam into the thick metal covering the battle droids remind you of the steel drums you heard while on a mission with your former master.

They, too, sounded of death.

Droids fall but are quickly replaced by more.

They’re just bodies Separatists send out to die for their cause.

Programmable, dependable, expendable, and above all else, replaceable.

It’s not lost on you how the same thing is being done by the Republic.

Only, they’re sending out an army of cloned humans instead of droids.

Living, thinking, feeling, and killable sentient beings.

You find it utterly abhorrent.

War, your master once told you, is never a solution and is never justified.

“It doesn’t matter who wins to those dead,” he said. “They are the ones who have made the ultimate sacrifice.”

You’re determined to see as few dead as possible.

You’re a guardian of peace and not a soldier, after all.

Or you weren’t until now.

“Captain.” You stop to deflect blaster bolts with your lightsaber. “Have your men pull back to that outcropping of rocks. We can make a stand there while waiting for reinforcements to arrive!”

“Yes, Commander!”

His address stuns you.

You’re not a commander.

You’re barely a Jedi Knight.

Your promotion, in fact, came right before you were deployed to this inhospitable planet.

You don’t correct the captain, though.

There’s no time for it.

Not with a horde heading in your direction.

And what a swarm it is, you realize, stomach churning with dread.

Battle droids.

Super battle droids.

Droidekas.

Spider droids.

Hailfires.

All coming right at you.

The reality of the situation is clear.

There are no fighter tanks to combat those hailfires.

No AT-RTs to mow down the battle droids.

It’s just you and a rapidly diminishing squadron of men.

Clones are not like droids.

Their numbers aren’t infinite.

It took time to grow new clones.

Train them.

Prepare them for battle.

Time you do not have.

You and these men are going to die.

Not before you take as many droids with you as you can.

A hailstorm of blaster fire erupts.

Bodies fall around you.

Each life extinguished is like a candle blown out by a strong breeze.

Leaving you cold, cold, cold.

You’re a Jedi, however, and don’t allow your grief to consume you.

You let it pass into the Force.

“Sir, look!” CT-7567 points to the sky. “Reinforcements are on the way!”

A sigh of relief escapes you as Republic gunships break through the barrage of laser blasts, bringing desperately needed backup, and much needed air support.

The battle you feared lost turns into a Republic victory a short time later.

There’s no celebrating for you, however.

There’s injured and dead soldiers to attend too.

You move to a clone leaning heavily on a pile of rocks. He tries to straighten as you approach but you shake your head.

“We do not need such formalities.”

“Sir?”

“You’re injured.” You slide an arm around his waist. “I think we can forego protocol until after you receive medical attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Twyla, please, Trooper.”

“I’m Jesse.” A pained grunt escapes him. “Sir.”

You go to correct him but the arrival of CT-6116, Kix you heard the medic called, puts an end to the subject. You turn Jesse over to the medic and go to help the others in need of medical attention. CT-7567 materializes at your side after you help the last injured trooper into the waiting transport.

“Commander? Your transport is waiting.”

“I’m not a commander.” You turn to the captain. “I’m a Jedi. A newly knighted one, in fact.”

“In my books, sir, experience outranks everything.”

“Please, just Twyla.” You walk with him towards the waiting gunship. “And you and your men definitely outrank me, Captain.”

“It’s Rex.” You think you detect a hint of humor in his tone but can’t be sure. “Commander.”

You accept the address despite feeling you haven’t earned it.

Something tells you that you will before this conflict is over.

If we don’t end this war, and soon, it will end the Republic and everything it stands for.

Something as a Jedi you cannot allow to happen.

Still, you find yourself wishing there was another way to bring about a resolution.

If only to stop more lives from being sacrificed.

Enough were lost here this day.

Men you swear to see honored for their sacrifice.

“Let’s take our leave…” You look at the captain. Committing his image to memory. Just in case you never see him again. “Rex.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #saw fanfic #rex x you #rex x reader #generic star wars name #captain rex #ct 7567 #clone trooper jesse #reader is a Jedi #you as a Jedi #Scorp writes fan fiction #2nd person pov #gifs #flashing gif #star wars the clone wars

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jedi-valjean · 1 year

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An Exercise in Precise Terminology

Jabba summoned the architect before him. "Thank you for designing a pit to house my new monster."

"You're welcome, mighty Jabba," the architect bowed with pride. "It's an oubliette."

Jabba stroked his nonexistent chin. "Tell me, how does the pit—"

"Oubliette," the architect clarified.

The Hutt graciously corrected himself. "—oubliette work?"

"Well, you simply press the button at your left," said the architect with an expositional flourish, "and the trapdoor will open."

"I see!" Jabba exclaimed delightedly. "And how am I to look into the pit—"

"Oubliette."

The Hutt cleared his throat, forcefully. "—look into the oubliette and see the entertainment for myself?"

The architect beamed. "That is all automatic. I have constructed mechanisms which will retract the floor panels to reveal a viewing grate..." He gestured with another flourish. "...and, at the same time, move your dias to the edge for your viewing pleasure."

Jabba chuckled with satisfaction. "Most ingenious! I am very pleased with my rancor pit."

The architect coughed. "Oubliette."

Jabba dropped the trapdoor from under the architect's feet. "Yes, that's what I said."

#star wars #jabba the hutt #jabba #rancor #rancor pit #star wars fan fiction #star wars flash fiction #flash fiction #humor

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spell-cleaver · 2 years

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Day 11: Poetry, Art, Music, Craft

Flufftober plans / Previous instalments

Giving Luke art supplies had not been a good idea, considering the first thing he drew with them had been a family portrait that almost overpowered Vader’s respirator and made him stop breathing. He spluttered, staring at it, for an age.

“Will you draw with us?” Luke begged. “Or do anything. I can make stickers.”

“I can sing,” said Leia, who could certainly try to. “Can you?”

Vader hesitated. “If you would like me to—”

“Yes!”

Luke asked eagerly, “Can I put stickers on your mask?”

“No.”

Vader walked out of the children’s room with stickers on his mask.

#flash fiction #flash fiction: star wars #my writing #random words on a page #luke skywalker #leia organa #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars #space twins #flufftober #flufftober: lost and found

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providence-park · 8 months

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AHSOKA - Part Four - FALLEN JEDI

#mygifs #star wars #scifi #swgifs #science fiction #starwars #the mandalorian #ahsoka #fallen jedi #ahsoka series #ahsoka show #star wars ahsoka #sabine wren #sw ahsoka #rosario dawson #star wars rebels #sw rebels #ahsoka spoilers #tw flashing

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jellicle-chants · 2 years

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I just posted a new fic to my AO3! It's a very angsty character study about Luminara Unduli, one of my all-time favorite Star Wars characters.

Read 'Aftershocks' here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40722594

#my writing #star wars #swtcw fic #luminara unduli #barriss offee #you don't really have to know star wars to read it either #and it's flash fiction length because i don't have the attention span for long fics lmao

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wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart · 1 month

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The Sith

"I think you lost your underwear somewhere, Darling."

He could not formulate a response, his voice betraying him, as only incoherent sounds escaped his throat, embarrassing sounds more akin to shrieks and whimpers. His senses was totally overstimulated by the feeling of a hot wicked tongue mercilessly licking across his overheated sensitive flesh.

The Sith’s golden eyes sparked at him in mocking amusement.

"Sith got your tongue?"

Masterpost

#star wars #obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #sith obi wan #jedi anakin #fanfiction #writing exercise #flash fic #fanfic #star wars fan fic #flash fiction #The Sith #for fun #writing #implied smut

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onthesandsofdreams · 2 years

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Falling Into You

Fandom: Star Wars Pairing: Rey x Poe Dameron Rating: T Summary: This is how Rey Skywalker and Poe Dameron find each other. They meet exactly a week after Rey storms off from her previous work as sous chef for Unkar Plutt and is having her bi-monthly lunch with her aunt Leia, when she mentions the fact that she’s now looking for a new job. Words: 1054 Notes: I'm not a chef, and while I have worked in kitchens, I have not worked in them for a good while. So, if this is wrong, sorry. I just hope you guys enjoy it anyways. Warnings: Language Tagging: @flashfictionfridayofficial

Read @ AO3

This is how Rey Skywalker and Poe Dameron find each other.

They meet exactly a week after Rey storms off from her previous work as sous chef for Unkar Plutt and is having her bi-monthly lunch with her aunt Leia, when she mentions the fact that she’s now looking for a new job.

Her aunt had simply raised a brow, nodded and said, “I know a place.” And their lunch had continued peacefully. Turns out, her aunt did know about a place. It was a small restaurant that was getting ready to open. The owner, Poe Dameron, had worked with her as an intern before deciding that politics were not for him.

Poe greets her with a smile, and while she’s old enough not to have teen crushes, her heart still does a little flip. Poe’s smile lights up his handsome face, he amiably welcomes them and when her aunt explains why they’re there, Poe nods and leads her to the kitchen, “Make me something, whatever you want, the kitchen’s yours.” He says and leaves her alone.

For a moment, she panics. Internally, she hears Unkar’s voice yelling, “Gotta pay your dues in the kitchen, girly!”

And oh, had she paid them. From cleaning, to busser, to waitress, to prep to salad station, to hot station, to main station. She paid her dues. So, she takes a deep breath, exhales and thinks of her dad, aunt and uncle. Once she’s calmed down enough, she sets to work.

When she presents her dish, Poe’s brows shoot up. “Wow, this is beautiful to look at!” He says and then, bites. And the little sound he makes, makes her weak at the knees. “This is absolutely delicious! You’re hired!”

And she feels like she can breathe again.

***

At first, Poe had thought much of Rey Skywalker.

At least, not in the way of attraction, that is. Sure, she was pretty and she could cook, which is why he hired her on the spot. Something that he normally wouldn’t do, but her dish was really good, so he had.

Rey was a phenomenal worker, he discovered during the first week of opening. She had gone out of her way to make things easier for everybody. But he had also noticed something, something that made him unhappy. Rey’s expectation to be yelled at. Yes, he knew that many male chefs had egos, and many liked to pound their chests and yell, but Rey was a good worker and he could not imagine the need to yell at her.

And so, he was determined to get to know her better. And soon he found out that Rey had a quick wit, she was kind to everyone, no matter what station they worked or who they were. Yes, she didn’t tolerate bullshit, but she was never unkind.

He found his eyes lingering on her, the way she bit her lip in concentration as she worked, the way she carefully moved her hands and plated the food in the same manner a painter would do with an art work.

And… oh shit.

***

Rey’s every growing attraction to Poe was getting out of control.

She had been working with the man for a solid month, and all through that time, she had found him to be a kind, generous man who genuinely cared for his workers. Not to say for his friends and family. She more often than not, would get to listen as Poe would ramble about a dish inspired by someone he loved.

And she really loved that.

Poe had won her undying loyalty, when one night during service, she had cut her finger. She had rushed to the first aid kit, but he had noticed her run and had asked to see her hand. She had felt some electricity when his hands had cradled hers. “Go to the ER,” he told her. “Don’t worry about work, I want your hand to be well cared for.” And he had practically pushed her out the door while saying that. “Text me what the doctor says, okay?”

She nodded, numbly and got a cab to the ER. She texted him that she had been given six stitches, but her hand would be fine to be back at work tomorrow. Poe had sent her a ‘Take the day off, it’s okay. You are not getting fired,’ text.

She had stared at it trying to figure it out why Poe would be so worried. This went beyond nicety. Unless.

Hope bloomed in her chest.

Oh.

But at the same time. He’s her boss.

***

It takes Poe another month to make up his mind.

Yes, he likes Rey. A lot. But that doesn’t mean that he’s going to make her uncomfortable. He really doesn’t want to fuck it up. But he also wants to take her out on a date and get to know Rey better. To see the woman in her off time. Yes, he had caught glimpses and he liked what he saw, but he wanted to romance her.

So, he gathers his courage and one day, he asks if Rey could come in early. The restaurant is empty save for them, Rey is giving him a strange look, he gathers his courage and says, “I like you very much Rey.”

Rey blinks, “I like you too, Poe. You’re a great boss.”

He shakes his head, “No. Sorry, I mean to say that I like you. As in, I am interested in you.” A breath, an exhale. “But I didn’t want to fuck it up and make you uncomfortable.”

Rey freezes and for a terrible moment, he fears that he has, indeed, fucked it up. But then, Rey laughs. “Oh my God! I didn’t want to fuck it up either!”

And he feels his soul return to his body, he laughs too, offers his hand. “I want you to know that this has nothing to do with work. I really do like you and would love to take you on a date. And I want you to know that regardless of how this ends, your work is safe.”

“Thank you, Poe.” Rey gives him a small smile and takes his hand. “I needed to hear that. And yes, you can take me out on a date.”

He returns her smile, inside, his heart soars.

#Flash Fiction Friday #damerey #rey x poe #jedipilot #rey #poe dameron #leia organa #star wars #star wars fic #au: modern setting #au: chefs/cooks

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