#cal kestis fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vibrantbirdy · 11 months

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You are so incredibly talented! I love reading all of your works! : )

Could I request a Cal Kestis x female reader (or OC, no preference really). I’ve been super into the game recently and just love his character. Maybe a really strong female character, but she gets flustered by Cal’s confidence, and how much she has grown to like him more than friends. I totally see him being a complete flirt (but still sweet). Haha. I’ve always had this idea that it would be cool for a force user to show someone what it’s like by holding their hand and pulling something to them (like aiding them in using the force). Stupid maybe I don’t know lol, basically Cal being suave and laying it on thick. Fluff, crack, little spice, I’m here for whatever creative piece you get going ❤️

Firstly, thank you for your lovely words! Secondly, yay, Cal! Thank you, I'm glad someone's asked for Cal, this is a cute prompt.

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Proximity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor Games Setting: Prior to events of Jedi Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Fluff - This is tooth-rotting fluff with a little added spice as requested ;) Warnings: This fic is 18+ so please heed and respect the adult rating. Descriptions of sexual longing/arousal; one scene of strong consensual sex - nothing too descriptive but probably on the borderline of (hopefully still sweet) mild smut. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 5.5k (Because I have no self control) Summary: You are an accomplished Coruscanti thief who has been recruited by the Rebel Jedi, Cal Kestis. As you join him and his crew on their adventures aboard the Mantis, you and Cal have to navigate your growing feelings for each other.

You are standing in some Imperial-worshipping Senator's private vault in a bank nestled deep in the heart of Coruscant's palatial financial district. You've just located your prize - a data stick containing the names of high standing political and military figures within the Empire who have Republic, perhaps even Rebel leaning sympathies.

It's the Senator's insurance policy, his get out of jail free card - something he can produce at the eleventh hour in case his unwavering loyalty to the Empire turns out not to be enough to save him from the pull and push of the Imperial tide of oppression swelling across the Galaxy.

You'll sell the data stick to one Rebel faction or another, whoever is willing to pay most for your service in getting information out of Imperial hands and aiding the Rebel's recruitment drive in the process.

You're in the middle of internally congratulating yourself on successfully extracting the data stick from its complex security casing when a male voice, almost conversational in tone, rings out behind you.

"I can't let you leave with that."

Startled, you whirl around to see a man standing no more than a meter away from you. You wonder how long he's been there, watching you.

He has bright ginger hair which is swept back from his face, short at the back and sides, but longer on top and slightly ruffled. His matching red stubble sits on his cheeks, chin, upper-lip and travels up his well-defined jawline to his ears. He is dressed simply in a fawn shirt, dark grey pants, and sturdy brown boots.

A small red and white droid, bipedal, with a flat rectangular head and two photoreceptors, one slightly larger and beadier than the other, hangs almost casually off his shoulder like a pet. It's a BD unit, you think.

Both the man and the droid are rather dirty, but then, so are you after squeezing your way through a maze of dusty ventilation shafts. It makes sense the only possible way they could have gotten in here is the same way you did.

The stranger is holding something metal in his right hand that glints occasionally in the vault's dim security lighting, but you can't quite work out what it is. A weapon?

You raise your blaster.

"Don't!" he shouts, holding out a palm towards you, "The vault is magnetically sealed, if you miss, that bolt's going to cause us both a world of problems."

You raise an eyebrow because one, you already know that, and two...

"Bold of you to assume I'll miss at point blank range," you say levelly.

You keep your weapon trained steadily at the young man's chest.

He adjusts his grip on whatever it is he is holding and a green beam of light extends from the hilt of what you now realise is a lightsaber. A deep thrumming sound resonates around the small chamber.

A Jedi. Great.

You thought they were all extinct after the Emperor's purge. Briefly, childhood memories of evening strolls with your parents past the monumental ziggurat of the Jedi temple glowing golden in the low Coruscanti sun flash through your mind. You remember the thrill of excitement at seeing the Jedi, elegant and regal in their grand robes, lightsabers clinking at their belts as they swept by on important Republic business.

Right now? Here? This is the last place you want to see one.

The light from the blade illuminates the young man's face which, you have to admit, is a rather attractive combination of youthful and rugged. His nose and cheeks are peppered with freckles and his eyes contain green irises so deep in colour that they almost match his blade. A thin, red scar runs almost horizontally across the bridge of his nose, dipping down onto his right cheek. The ghost of a smirk is now playing on his lips and it has the irritating effect of making him more handsome.

You don't know why, but for some reason, you trust him instinctively not to try and cut you in half with that humming beam of hot, vibrating energy. At a stalemate, you lower your blaster. He follows your lead by deactivating the blade of his saber immediately.

"If you make me a good offer, you can have this right now," you say, one hand on your hip, the other waving the data stick in front of him impatiently.

You never like staying on the scene of a job too long and you are starting to feel on edge.

"I've got ... uhhh ... one hundred credits?"

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he speaks. He knows it's a stupidly lowball offer and you scoff loudly to let him know you think so too.

"Look, I know the ISB would pay a lot for information like this but..."

"I don't sell to the Empire," you snarl, cutting him off.

He holds up his hands in a gesture of apology which seems genuine enough. He tries again.

"I really need to get this to a contact in the Mid Rim..."

"The Mid Rim?" you interrupt abruptly, "that's off-world."

"Yeah..." his brow furrows and a slow, quizzical smile spreads across his face at the obviousness of your statement.

You curse yourself for being as predictable as a cheap holo novel. All your life you've lived on Coruscant. You've never been anywhere else. These days, the endless maze of unnatural, lifeless spires and struts and blocks of artificial construction seem to press in and in and in on you so that, despite the sprawling size of the metropolis, it feels like you are living in a tiny metal cage.

Still, this stranger didn't need to know that, and you realise you've given him his angle - a bargaining chip.

"I can't buy it off you," he reasons, "I don't have the credits, but I do have a proposal. Work with me and my crew. It's regular and we're rarely on one world for too long..."

There it is...

You got in here," he continues, gesturing around the vault, "we could use someone with your skill set. And, you get to piss off the Empire in the process."

You consider his offer. You are used to working alone and you don't like the complications that come with relying on others. Trusting anyone is difficult after fending for yourself, all alone, so successfully and for so long....

But with the Empire continuing to close their fist around all aspects of daily life, work was difficult to come by on Coruscant these days. Thieving in the city from Imperial targets in particular was becoming more and more fraught with danger.

While it riled you that he was able to read you so easily, really, what did you have to lose? Because by the Force did you not want to get off Coruscant? Isn't this what you'd been waiting for your whole life? An adventure?

"One job," you counter pragmatically, extending your hand to shake his, "And we'll see how it goes from there."

"Cal Kestis," he introduces himself with a disarmingly friendly smile, "And deal."

*************************************************

One job turns into another then another and another. Weeks turn into months and soon you've been on Cal's ship - well, borrowed ship you had come to learn - the Mantis for nearly half a year.

You've grown close with the crew of the Mantis. Cal, Gabs, Bravo and the two hulking Klatooinine twins, Lizz and Koob. This type of camaraderie is new to you. You really thought you'd struggle with it, that your independent nature would rail against the confines of living in close quarters with ship mates and fitting your own whims and desires and wants around others. In reality, you've never felt more at home. You didn't realise how lonely you had become before.

And the missions you run with the crew are exhilarating. This new life is so much more than just pilfering here and there from the Empire. You feel like you are really making a difference, like you're spitting directly in the face of the Imperial machine with every job. You feel like a Rebel.

It's not all sabotage and espionage and fighting Stormtroopers though. Off duty, life on the Mantis is mainly based around friendly joshing and winding each other up. And the dull minutiae of life still goes on.

Like now.

You and Cal are patching up the Mantis while the others are out on a supply run. You are currently crouched on your haunches so that the service hatch you are examining on one of the walls inside the ship is at eye level.

Cal is stood behind you, arms folded across his chest. You've been arguing good naturedly about what the problem is with the engine cooling system for an hour and you are now impatiently waiting for BD-1 to finish his scan to find out which one of you is right.

The little droid crawls out from the tangle of wires and gives you little nod and a boop of approval. You pat BD on his rectangular head and he scurries up your arm and on to your shoulder.

"I told you that was the problem," you say, craning your neck to look up at Cal with a triumphant grin.

You gesture to the wiring tool in his hand.

"Give that to me, I'll do it."

The Jedi looks down at the small instrument in his hand then tosses it up in the air and catches it again. He has that mischievous look on his face, the one you've learned to recognise as a sign that he's about to do something really annoying.

"Kestis..." you warn standing up, unable to stop your lips curling into a smile.

You make a lunge for the tool in his hand, but he's too quick. In a flash, he's holding it up above his head. Cal is almost a head taller than you and there's no way you can reach that high, even when you stretch up onto your tiptoes.

Instead, you decide to play dirty. You jab him hard in both his sides with your fingers where you know he's ticklish. He makes a funny sort of snorting noise in surprise and his hand drops for long enough that you manage to snatch the tool from him and make off with it at great speed.

Cal darts after you, both of you careering in to the kitchen of the Mantis, the thud and scrape of your boots on the ship's durasteel grated floor ringing throughout the ship in chorus with your laughter.

BD-1 takes this opportunity to leap of your shoulder and onto the kitchen table with an indignant whirr, determined not to get involved in this organic tomfoolery.

Cal is on you in seconds. He grabs you around the middle and lifts you off the ground with ease, spinning you around and deliberately tickling you in between making grabs for the wiring tool.

You squeal and let out perhaps the most ridiculous giggle to ever escape your mouth. You can't let him get away with forcing you to make a noise like that so you elbow him in the stomach. It's only a gentle prod really, but it's enough to make him grunt and let go of you.

As Cal doubles over, winded, you sprint back around to the opposite side of kitchen table holding the instrument aloft and performing a little victory dance.

Across the table, Cal straightens and, with a cocky look on his face, he stretches his arm out towards you. You stumble forwards slightly as if pulled forwards by an invisible rope tied around your wrist as he uses the Force to tear the tool easily out of your hand and bring it flying through the air to rest in his own outstretched palm.

"That's cheating!" you say, breathlessly.

Despite your half-hearted admonishment, in reality, you're delighted. And you're certain Cal knows it. The more time you spend with him, the more that old fascination you held as a child with the strange powers of the Jedi has returned. You are always enchanted by Cal's displays of Force ability.

"Alright kids, we almost ready to go?" Gabs' voice echoing through from the Mantis' doorway signals the return of the others.

Cal shrugs at you and you both grin, panting from your exertions. Keeping his green eyes locked on yours, he backs casually towards the door to help Gabs and the others load up the supply crates. Just before he exits the ship, he tosses the wiring tool to you underarm and you catch it with an elaborate flourish and twirl that makes him laugh.

You return to your work fixing the Mantis's cooling system with BD-1. You try to concentrate, but you feel slightly giddy. You can still feel Cal's strong arms against your body as if they remain wrapped around you. His masculine scent, pleasant and earthy and fresh like petrichor, seems to linger in your proximity and on your skin.

BD-1 tries his best to keep you right. He trills or nudges you every so often either to correct your wiring or to encourage you to stop staring into space with that inane, absent-minded smile.

When you lie in your cot bed that night, the hum of the Mantis' hyperdrive lulls you into a comfortable drowsiness and your thoughts return, unbidden, to Cal.

Over the past few months, it's like the very idea of him nestled deep into your brain and now refuses to budge. Every morning when you wake, you look forward to the sight of his honest, open, expressive face. The warmth of his slightly crooked smile. The way his red brows arch when he finds something funny before he squeezes his eyes shut so tight that they crinkle at the corners as he throws back his head, letting out peels of joyful, open-mouthed laughter.

Even when he has those strange moments of quiet introspection which you don't quite understand yet, you find it hard not to watch him. You can't help it, even although you sometimes feel like you are intruding on a private, sacred moment of reflection. It's always the same. His eyes glaze over as he stares out into the distance at nothing, a muscle works in his chiselled jaw, and then his head drops as if in dignified, melancholic prayer. These periods never last too long - not when he has a crew to lead.

There's no point in denying it anymore, at least not to yourself anyway. Your feelings for Cal go beyond comradeship; beyond friendship. And a hopeful notion has formed in your head that he might actually feel the same way about you.

It's both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

A sudden heat blooms deep within your very core and rises in your cheeks as your mind conjures the image, no, the feeling of Cal's solid, toned body, pressed against yours in a feverish, impassioned embrace, your limbs entwined, fingers woven tightly through the flames of his red hair

Force, you want him.

You place a palm against the cool durasteel wall above your head that separates your room from the Jedi's. You wonder what he's thinking of on the other side of the thin sheet of metal.

****************************************

Cal Kestis can't sleep. Like most Jedi, he can't actually read the thoughts of others, but his connection to the Force allows him to feel the emotions and state of mind of those around him.

Over the past few months, the Jedi has noticed your feelings for him blossoming into something more than friendship, mirroring the growth of his own affections for you.

But tonight, Cal can sense that something in your emotional frequency has changed. Evolved. A clarity, a new and vigorous and glorious certainty in your desire for him radiates incandescent through the Force. It's like the smouldering embers of a fire have ignited into a ferocious blaze.

As the feeling permeates through the thin sheet-metal wall dividing you, the intensity of it, the heat of it, drives him crazy. He wants to rip through the flimsy partition separating you and give you everything you want from him and more. His whole body is aflame with almost painful arousal and he is aching to bring himself release.

Cal resists, teetering on the very edge of giving himself over to his desire. Is this voyeuristic? Is he trespassing? Crossing some unspoken line? Should he be trying to block you out? He doesn't know.

The Jedi hisses through his teeth in frustration. Reluctantly, he rolls out of bed and, sinking to his knees on the floor, surrenders himself to the Force in search of whatever temporary solace he can find in meditation.

Even as he does so, he knows that the only real relief he'll be able to get now is if he can find it with you.

***************************************

The crew of the Mantis are taking some time to rest after a run of particularly eventful jobs. You've landed on the quiet world of Brax at the edge of the Mid Rim. It's a beautiful, lush planet adorned with meadows of wildflowers, glassy lakes and sprawling coniferous forests.

Everyone is making the most of their down time.

Gabs and Bravo have gone off for a hike in the nearby woods.

BD-1 is having a well earned oil bath on the Mantis.

The twins are snoozing in the meadow amongst the flowers. When you'd crept past them earlier, you'd smiled fondly - the peaceful serenity on their faces was such an odd juxtaposition to their usual chaotic enthusiasm for life.

Having successfully sneaked past Lizz and Koob without waking them, you are now sitting atop a large slab of rock which juts up and out of the meadow. You alternate between admiring the view of the lake and cleaning your blaster.

It is a warm day, but a gentle cooling breeze keeps the heat at bay. A gust suddenly whips up the heady, sweet smell of wildflowers all around you. For some reason the scent triggers something inside you, your heart suddenly full to bursting with a strange concoction of melancholy and joy.

To think that all this beauty, all this Galaxy was just out here, waiting, your whole life. And if you'd never met Cal, you might still be crawling through filthy ventilation shafts smelling of metal and damp and darkness just to get by on Coruscant.

You are just about ready to reassemble your weapon when you look up from your task towards where the Jedi is meditating with his back to you. He's kneeling a few meters in front of you on the sandy shore by the still water. You always think it's strange how he chooses to sit on his knees, rather than cross-legged. It looks uncomfortable to you, but he seems to be able to sit like that for anywhere up to an hour. Maybe you'll ask him about it one day.

Cal is shirtless. Even from here, you can see the freckles littered like celestial constellations across his strong back and down his broad shoulders and muscled arms. You take the opportunity to admire the outlines and angles of his taut, athletic body.

You start as the Jedi begins to stand. You'd rather not get caught staring at him quite so openly and you quickly shift your gaze back to your blaster which is still in its various component parts.

Cal turns and advances towards you up the beach and onto the grassy meadow. You pretend not to have noticed him at all, but you keep catching glimpses of him in your peripheral vision. He walks a few paces, then stops and looks around as if he's searching for something on the ground. Then he crouches down. He does this several times.

What is he up to?

"Hey," Cal says casually as he finally wanders over to you.

He has to crane his neck to speak to you, perched as you are on top of your rock, and use a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He's hiding something behind his back you realise.

"Oh, hey," you reply, as if you're surprised to see him there.

He pulls his hand from behind his back and reaches up to you. In his grasp is a bunch of wildflowers, beautiful pastel blues and pinks and purples.

You exclaim softly in surprise, a rather giddy sound that makes Cal beam up at you. As you take the blooms from him, his fingertips, calloused and tough from years of wielding a weapon in combat, brush gently against your hand. Even that small touch feels like a spark of electricity arching between you.

"See you at dinner," he says, and he's clearly pleased with himself as he retreats towards the Mantis, head held high, a jaunt in his step.

As you twist in your seated position to watch him disappear into the ship, you realise you were so enchanted by the gesture that you forgot to say thank you.

That's the thing about Cal Kestis. He's completely disarming. He has a rare, effortless charisma and an easy, flirtatious way about him that is somehow both sweet and suave at the same time. Few men you've met have ever managed to render you so flustered.

You look down at the delicate blooms in your hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling their fresh scent. Smiling to yourself, you shake loose the functional way you usually wear your hair to keep it out of your face and retie it, carefully weaving the wildflowers that Cal has picked for you through your locks.

When you come in for dinner - Bravo's turn to cook - Cal is already sitting at the kitchen table. He looks up and inclines his head to the side as he takes you in, his eyes widening. You blush furiously to see the genuine pleasure at the sight of you and your decorated hair written so openly on his face.

Amid the usual convivial hubbub and chaos of dinner in the Mantis' kitchen, you and Cal steal glances at each other across the table.

**********************************************

That evening, the moon is low and yellow in Brax's dark sky, hanging like a ball of golden light above the lake. You have an hour or so before you all depart for a rendezvous with a contact on Naboo. It's the twins' turn to do pre-flight checks and you find yourself on the shores of the water, skimming stones with Cal to kill time.

Before joining the crew of the Mantis you'd never skimmed a stone in your life. Not many places to do that on Coruscant. But Gabs in particular is an ace at it and she's taught you well.

Cal spots a likely candidate for his next projectile and he brings it flying casually into his hand using his Jedi abilities.

"What does it feel like like?" You ask, suddenly.

Cal smiles at you, seemingly understanding that you are talking about the Force. He hesitates for a second, looking down at the stone in his open palm. Then he places it back on the ground in an obvious position, nestled in the sand a few feet in front of you, and moves round to stand behind you.

He's so close you can feel his heart beating against his chest. Instinctively, you lean back into him, enjoying the safe feeling that his nearness gives you, and the warmth of his body against yours in the chill night air.

"It's time for instruction," he says softly.

He's said that phrase before when he's showing anyone how to do something new. You've come to understand that it's a fond impression of his late Master's dignified voice - a touching habit you've always thought.

Tonight it sounds different. His tone is light and teasing, but the smirk you can hear as he speaks makes the words sound almost seductive in a way that causes something to flip then tighten in the pit of your abdomen.

"Hold out your hand."

You extend your right arm, holding your palm outwards as you've seen Cal do many times. He places his own palm against the back of your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours.

His other hand comes to rest at your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer into him. He doesn't need to put it there and you both know it. Nor does he need to rest his chin on your left shoulder, so close to your cheek that his stubble almost tickles your skin.

Yet you can tell that you are both revelling in this rare, private opportunity for proximity between the two of you, and it is as thrilling as it is maddening.

"Focus. Breathe."

You realise you've been holding your breath. You feel Cal's chest rising and falling against your back and you match your own breathing in time with his. You can't help but notice it's at a slightly elevated pace.

"See the stone in your hand."

You nod and exhale, your eyes boring into the rock as if you really are going to levitate it yourself. You try and fail to stifle a sudden giggle at the ridiculousness of such an idea.

"Concentrate," Cal scolds quietly in your ear but you can hear the smile in his voice as the hand round your waist tightens its grip ever so slightly.

"I am," you mutter, but it's only half true.

You wonder if it's just your imagination, but in the seconds that follow, you think you can feel an deep, vibration flowing through Cal and passing through his body and into yours, binding your lifeforces together.

The rock flies so suddenly into your palm that you jump. You just about remember to close your fingers around the stone's cool, smooth surface as you shout out in surprise and delight. Cal lets out a good-natured laugh at your reaction and you glow as it rumbles through his whole body and yours.

You've just made up your mind to twist around in his arms kiss him when BD-1 comes running through the grass at great speed on his little legs, beeping and chirping urgently.

"Ok buddy, ok, we're coming," Cal says kindly to the little droid, but you can hear the exasperation at the untimely interruption in his voice.

*******************************************

Course set, the Mantis is travelling at lightspeed and, nestled safely in the cradle of the hyperlane, you will probably make it to Naboo in about six hours.

You suspect the rest of the crew are all sleeping soundly. The Mantis takes care of herself for the most part when travelling through hyperspace. With the life you lead, the importance of catching rest when you can cannot be underestimated.

You, however, cannot sleep. Thoughts of Cal and your interrupted moment by the lake race through your mind. The wildflowers he gave you are still in your hair and every so often you catch the ghost of their aroma, reminding you of your almost idyllic day on Brax.

You sigh and drag yourself out of bed, deciding to go and sit in the empty cockpit of the Mantis for a while and watch the stars race by as you hurtle through the hyperlane. Although it should really be frightening, you love to watch great swathes of the Galaxy disappear in a flash before your eyes as the Mantis catapults through space. It's a novel experience for you still - being off Coruscant, light speed travel, new worlds.

You wave your hand over the control and the door to your room hisses open. You jump to see a figure already standing there in the corridor. With a jolt of excitement, and with a strange feeling that you've summoned him somehow, you realise that it's Cal.

"Uh, hi.."

You don't let him get more than two words into his sentence. You grab him roughly by the front of his loose night shirt - which is slung low, revealing tufts of ginger hair on his chest and the elegant lines of his collarbone - and pull him into a deep kiss.

Not breaking away from your lips, and hardly hesitating, he picks you with almost alarming ease. You wrap your legs around his waist and curl your fingers in his red hair as he carries you back into your quarters. He places you up onto your workbench situated against the opposite wall as the door slides closed behind you.

"You look so pretty with those flowers in your hair," he mumbles into your neck you shiver with pleasure as his mouth brushes against your skin as he talks.

"Yes, it's a shame you're about to make such a mess of me," you whisper into his ear.

He pulls back to stare at you for a moment, green eyes wide as if dumbfounded by your forwardness. His delighted, slack-jawed expression forces a loud giggle from deep within you.

"Shhh," Cal warns emphatically, keenly aware of the proximity of the rest of the crew and how thin the walls of the Mantis are. He presses a kiss to your mouth in an attempt to silence your outburst, but you can feel his body shake with his own barely contained laughter as he grins against your lips.

Once your stifled mirth subsides, you hastily start to undress each other. You barely have time to appreciate the now naked, muscular form of the Jedi before you, when, in his enthusiasm to remove it, Cal accidentally rips your flimsy night dress away from your body. As it comes apart in his hands, the fabric makes a loud tearing sound, louder even perhaps than that of your previous bouts of laughter. You both freeze, as if anticipating someone will burst through the door and catch you in this compromising position, before dissolving into poorly restrained giggles again.

As he drinks in the sight of your body, Cal's expression changes into something primal. His brows knit together as if he is trying to understand how you could possibly be sitting in front of him like this. Then, his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare before he crashes his mouth back down on to yours into a deliciously rough kiss.

You don't move from your position on your workbench, and you coil your legs around Cal as tight as you can as he starts to move in you. The pace is urgent. You don't mind. There'll be opportunities for languid and gentle love-making in the future. Right now, this is a matter of need for both of you. The cord of tension that has been tightening between you for months finally snapping in a glorious, frenzied, explosion of mutual lust.

As his pace increases and his movements start to become uncoordinated, Cal moves a hand down between your bodies, splaying his palm against you, and settling the pad of his thumb between your legs at the very place you most need it to be.

At this, your hand which was tangled in his flaming hair flies down to join the other at his back and he growls as you claw your fingers in to his flesh between his shoulder blades.

You press your lips hard into his shoulder to muffle your cries as you approach your peak and then, suddenly, you are crashing over the edge and seeing stars. You gasp out his name, over and over, open mouthed and breathy against his ear.

This, combined with the sensation of your body in rapture, sends Cal hurtling towards his own oblivion. You cling to him while the great, strong muscles all over his body tense and release, and he lets out a long, shuddering groan into your neck that is almost a whimper.

The sight of him, the sound of him falling apart in front of you is beautiful.

Once you've both caught your breath, Cal lifts you gently off the table, and carries you to your tiny, single cot bed. You manage to position yourselves fairly comfortably in the snug space by lying on your sides. The Jedi has one arm laced underneath you with the other slung over your waist, hand resting on your stomach and holding you close to his warm chest.

As you are lulled almost into a doze by the sound and feel of his slow and steady heartbeat, you take in the rather sorry sight of the flowers which once bejewelled your hair, now scattered in ruin across the functional durasteel floor.

"I told you those flowers wouldn't last," you muse drowsily.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Cal removes his hand from your waist and reaches out his arm, palm splayed open. A blue bell flower, stem and petals astonishingly still intact- a brave survivor of the onslaught of urgent hands through your hair - floats lazily up from the floor and towards you on the bed.

Cal plucks it out of the air and gently weaves the bloom into your locks just above your ear. Then, he kisses you gently on the cheek and then on your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin, before sinking back down on to his side and resuming his previous position curled comfortingly around you.

For some reason, despite the eroticism of what you've just done together, this sweet gesture makes you flush disproportionately and you feel your cheeks turning pink.

You're starting to realise, perhaps hope, that the heady feeling of being slightly flustered in Cal Kestis' proximity might never go away.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis fanfiction #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x female reader

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frost-queen · 1 year

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I’ll risk it all for you (Reader x Cal Kestis)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernameis, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr

You carefully looked where you stepped. Everywhere nothing but green. Kashyyyk was the planet you were on to find a Wookiee chieftain named Tarfful. – “Keep up Y/n!” – Cal called out, turning briefly to you. – “Scared I’ll fall behind?” – you responded with mischief in your eyes. Cal shook his head childishly, mocking your ways. He puffed loud, turning back to the front. His eyes widened when his foot took a step forwards. In a split second wrapped a rope around his ankle, shooting him up in the air. BD-1 having jumped off his back. Cal was hanging upside down, waving his arms around.

You came closer, laughing your ass off. – “How’s it hanging?” – you asked lowering yourself with a tilt of your head to smile at him. Cal slowly swinging from side to side. – “Can you cut me down?” – he said irritated. You gave him a gentle poke in the chest, letting him swing a bit more, thinking. – “If you say pretty, please.” – you responded. – “Y/n!” – Cal groaned trying to pull his chest up with little success. – “I didn’t hear you say please.” – you made clear, holding your hand behind your ear. – “Can you for one second not be irritating?” – he already felt his blood lower to his head, making him dizzy.

Shrugging your shoulders, you straightened your posture again. – “Bye Cal.” – you waved him goodbye, taking your leave. Cal pressed his palms against his eyes, groaning. – “Okay, wait!” – he forced out, hand stretched out to you. Curling up a smile, you returned to him. – “Yes Cal.” – you asked keeping him still as you let yourself bend down to meet eyes with him.

“Can you please cut me down…” – he asked. BD deliberately not interfering with your bickering. – “Sure.” – you answered. Pulling out a knife, you cut down Cal. He dropped with a loud thud, groaning at the sudden pain in his back. He came sitting down, untying the rope from around his ankle. – “See that wasn’t that hard, was it?” – you said out loud. Cal’s face stood sour, BD approaching. The droid hopped onto his back before he got up. You took a few steps, pausing to look at Cal behind you.

“You might want to be careful; I hear there are boobytraps here.” – you teasingly exclaimed. Cal walked up to you, giving you a hard nudge. Making you nearly lose your balance. – “Very funny.” – you called out waiting to see his response, but there never came one. Following close by, you kept your eye out. You had been lucky to have not encountered any stormtroopers on your way. The war on Kashyyyk not being a pleasant one. Stepping up your pace, you took the lead. Taking a halt at a cliff. Cal coming to stand beside you.

Hands on his hip he took a deep breath. He spotted a vine not that far, pulling it closer with the use of the force. – “So you want to go first or would you rather have us swing cozy together?” – he wiggled with his eyebrows making you roll your eyes. Cal shrugged his shoulders, taking a few steps back. – “BD, hold on.” – he said over his shoulder, gripping on tight to the vine. He started running, setting himself off at the cliff to jump across. You watched as he swinged in perfect balance across, landing steady on his feet.

He turned around waiting for an applause. You clapped briefly for his ego with a sarcastic smile. He gestured to you to be ready to catch the vine. Pulling his arm back, he let it swing hard back. You caught it, grabbing around with your hands to be certain you’d have it. Cal motioned for you to come. Taking a deep breath, you took some uncertain steps back. Running up to the cliff, you squealed loud at the drop off. The vine swung halfway across the cliff when a blaster shot fired your way. It missed you, hitting the rocky wall.

Cal’s eyes widened, turning to where it came from. Up on another cliffy part, he noticed three stormtroopers. The sudden attack had startled you that much, you’d forgot to jump. Swinging above the deeps, slowing down with each swing. – “Cal!” – you called out in a panic, clamping onto the vine. He gasped loud, eyes wide with fear as you were a clear target now. You screamed, ducking a bit when blasters fired your way, missing you by a few hairs each time. Cal tensed his jaw, stretching his hand out upwards.

He felt the strong push of the force, but the stormtroopers were too far for him to do any good damage. His eyes stood grant when a shot went your way. He forced his hand forwards, hitting you with the force. The vine got swung hard back to avoid being hit. You called it out, swinging hard back. There wasn’t much he could do. He needed to think quickly to avoid any concerning troubles. – “Y/n!” – he shouted. – “Hang on and when I tell you to, you let go and leap forwards.”

“What?” – you panicked at how ridiculous dangerous that sounded. – “Just trust me.” – he said in return. You nodded shakily as Cal used his way to make the vine move. You got blasted back, making you swing back. Blasts firing above your head. You went one more back, till you swung strongly back. – “Now!” – Cal shouted running up to the edge. You let go, jumping as you blind fully trusted Cal. Cal held his arm out for you to catch. Your fingers brushing over his lower arm down to his hand in the hopes he’d catch you.

A blast fired Cal’s way making him flinch. You gasped loud, feeling your fingers brush against his, nothing afterwards. – “No!” – Cal screamed out; hand reached out down when he saw you fall. Your screams dying out down the pit you were falling. Cal got up, taking no second to dive headfirst after you. Hand stretched, wanting to reach for you. You had no idea what was below, eyes fixated on Cal who desperately tried to reach you. Light as a feather, you closed your eyes waiting for the worst. Then your back crashed against something hard, followed by wetness.

Cal fell down into the waters, reaching for your body under water. You felt an arm go around your body, being pulled to the surface. Cal and you gasped above water. – “You okay Y/n?” – he asked worriedly, one hand pressed against your wet cheek. You splashed water in his face, confusing him for a second. – “What were you thinking!” – you called out furious. – “What?” – Cal replied confused. – “Why’d you jump so recklessly after me!” – splashing more water at him, you were angry that he would do something that stupid.

“I don’t know! I just did!” – he shouted back, getting as equally worked up as you. – “You could’ve been killed!” – you called out, arms trembling from the raw emotion. – “So could you!” – Cal responded loudly, staring intensely at you. Both holding that fierce gaze even when BD beeped loud on Cal’s back. Cal and you puffed, looking away. The two of you swimming to a little green island. Cal shook his leg in an attempt to dry it faster. You squeezed the water out of your clothing. A deep sound came from the caves not far from the little island you were on.

It made you stumbled back against Cal. Cal holding you by the shoulders. – “Don’t tell me you are scared Y/n?” – he smirked, looking over your shoulder down to you. – “I am. Not.” – you confidently replied. Another sound made you shriek, clamping onto Cal. – “What was that Y/n?” – he laughed, all smug looking. You looked frightened around. – “It’s probably one of those spider creatures.” – he teased. Your eyes widened frantically, making you almost jump into his arms. Not wanting to be on the ground if it was. Cal laughing louder than ever at how needy you were. – “This isn’t funny Cal!” – you said rudely. – “You know I am deadly afraid of those things.”

“I know.” – he whispered in your ear, unable to hide the power it gave him. You pushed yourself off Cal, having a shudder go down your spine. – “It is probably nothing, Y/n.” – he reassured you. You weren’t so sure. Cal pointed at the caves as it was the only way away from this place. Swallowing nervously, you followed quietly. Darkness embraced you like a cloak when you entered the cave. BD turning his head lights on to light the way.

Cal extracting his saber as it gave a faint light, reflecting against his face. Looking over his shoulder, he made sure you were close by. BD bleeped curiously, his lights beaming off the walls. Venturing deeper into the gaping cave’s mouth. You reached out to Cal, startling him. – “It’s just me.” – you said nervously. He took a deep breath, taking your hand. Guiding it to his belt where he insisted on you taking a hold off. This way he’d know you were close. Cal lowered his lightsaber when he came at an open space. Light from above falling into the pit. BD’s light dimming.

The sunlight making you close your eyes for a second to adjust to it. Cal took a moment to observe. – “We can climb up right there.” – he pointed out. Not hearing you response, made him look down to his belt. Your hand wasn’t on it anymore, making him lift his head back up. – “Y/n?” – he said concerned, looking around. He found you standing not far from him, standing stiff. He walked up to you, tugging on your arm.

When you wouldn’t move, he knew something was wrong. BD bleeping warningly, making him look up. From a hole lighted up a few eyes. Cal gasped watching one of those spider creatures crawl out of it. His eyes widening, knowing how much you feared them. He pulled you behind him. – “BD! Stay with her!” – he ordered. The little droid jumping off his back. Cal readied his lightsaber with a twirl. He was about to launch forwards when he spotted another one coming. Soon three or four more came crawling out, making him back up.

BD jumping warningly in front of you to move. You backed away, falling over a rock. – “Get back!” – Cal called out, waving his lightsaber around. BD moving frantically in front of you daring one to even come near you, for he would protect you till his last bleep. Cal launched forwards, striking his lightsaber at one of the spider creatures. Needing to keep his eyes on the others as well. From the corner of his eye, he saw one make his way over to you. Cal spun around, pulling the creature back by the way of the force. Gritting his teeth, he let it drop near him, sticking his lightsaber through it. With three at a time where they hissing and tapping their front legs forwards to Cal. Your heart beating out of your chest, too scared to move. Cal rolled back to block one’s path to you.

He fought them fiercely knowing how much it meant to you. Ready to fight them off for you. He struck another one down as two more appeared through the crawling space. One running rapidly over to BD and you. Your eyes wide with fear. BD electrocuted it as it only stung a bit. Cal shot his hand out, forcing it to be dragged back. He gasped when something sticky wrapped around his hand.

The spider creatures fighting back. Moving his hand down, he started tearing it off. Two more spiders hissed their web his way. Making him drop his saber, hands bound together. Inhaling sharply was he now defenseless. They started surrounding him as he struggled to get free. Your eyes fixated on Cal, hearing him struggle. The urge to help him screaming louder inside of you. But what of those creatures you feared for so long. BD hopped on one foot, the other sticking to his body with a web.

Slowly your friends were endangering themselves. Taking frantic breaths, you needed to act now. Something snapped inside of you, seeing them tackle Cal to the ground. Jumping up, you screamed it out, blasting at them. Cal turning his head in surprise at you. You kept firing, screaming out your rage. The spider creatures got several hits. One lost it’s leg as another one had pus trailing down it’s body. You got closer to them, acting on adrenaline to save your friends then to give in to your fear.

One exploded making Cal roll away. They started backing away to the hole they came from. You wouldn’t let them escape, taking your revenge on them. One by one shooting them till they died or exploded. Out of breath, you lowered your blaster. Cal frantically freeing himself to get to you. Knees buckling, they gave in, letting you drop down. Cal rushed in front of you, taking you by the shoulder. – “Are you okay Y/n?” – he asked worriedly.

You let your hand rest against his cheek, catching your breath. Cal’s gaze moved rapidly over yours, taking a deep breath. – “You… you fought them Y/n… you actually fought them…” – he said half smiling. Touching your cheek he was very proud of you. – “Why? What made you overcome your fear?” – he asked. – “You…” – you responded. – “I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch losing you.” – you added, pulling yourself a bit up by his uniform.

Cal let his finger brush against your cheek, sucking in a deep breath. Leaning in as he pressed his lips onto yours. Moving his hands to your lower back, pressing you closer to him. You kissed him passionately back. BD bleeping made you pull away. Cal got up to retrieve his lightsaber. You smiling admiring at him. He noticed it, chuckling. – “Are you going to continue drooling over me Y/n? or are you actually going to be helpful?”

You gave him a roll of your eyes. You walked up to him, standing near him to look upwards. – “It’s a pretty high climb.” – you stated. Cal moved his hand around your back, pulling you towards him. – “I know.” – he whispered before stealing a kiss from you. You gave him a playful slap for being so silly. – “Lucky for you, I can get us up in no time.” – he answered walking up to the wall. You followed, pushing him back with your bottom against his front.

“I go first.” – you insisted. Cal smirking. – “Of course you are.” – he chuckled. You started the climb as Cal was right behind you. – “Eyes up Cal!” – you called out. – “Oh they are up.” – he replied mischievous. You looked down seeing him look up to you smiling. Rolling your eyes, you knew he was just enjoying the view. In no time were you back up to continue your search for Tarfful.

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dingusfreakhxrrington · 1 year

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See It Through

pairing: cal kestis x gn!reader

summary: with thoughts of past rules plaguing his mind, cal starts to question whether he’s doing the right thing.

warnings: cal questioning his relationship with reader, established relationship, a little angst?, mostly just fluff, reader reassuring cal, talk of order 66, mentions of the jedi code

word count: 631

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

“Do you ever think this is wrong?”

You rolled over, cheek resting against his shoulder as you questioned, “This?”

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his head just barely moving into a nod before his eyes finally landed on you.

“Us,” he clarified, his eyes straying once again as he couldn’t bare to look you in the eye as he questioned everything you had.

It was silent for a moment as you allowed him to collect his thoughts. Then, he spoke again, “I mean- We’re both Jedi and the code… the code says this is wrong. ‘There is no emotion. There is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity.’”

With a sigh, you sat up. This was far too heavy a conversation for pillow talk. “The code said a lot of things, it doesn’t mean it was always right.”

“But what if we’re just playing into the hands of the dark side?”

You looked at Cal as he too sat up beside you, his brows tense as his thoughts ran rampant.

“What if the code was wrong? Nothing good can ever come from suppressing your feelings, trust me. What if it’s part of the reason the order fell? An absence of emotion only gives rise to the darkness, Cal.”

Your explanation was sound but he still wasn’t convinced. More than anything, he was still afraid of the darkness consuming him.

“I’m still having those dreams… The nightmares…”

You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and admitted, “I know. You talk in your sleep sometimes but that’s not you, Cal. You’re stronger than that, you won’t become an inquisitor.”

He nodded as he let your words sink in but the code still rang through his mind, echoing through every corner.

“Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.”

He hummed in question, brows furrowing once again as his eyes landed on you. Those were the words of the code but they were different, not as he’d ever heard them before.

“After the fall, I fled. I was in hiding for years but I never gave up on the Jedi, on everything I had been taught. I travelled in search of knowledge. That is how the code used to be, years ago. We were never supposed to ignore or suppress our feelings. To find true balance with the force you have to feel your emotions and learn how to navigate through them, both the good and the bad.”

He hummed again, finally allowing your words to break through. “Control. Balance is about finding control.”

“Yes. Us… We’re not wrong, Cal. As long as we are in control of our emotions, we won’t fall into darkness. Besides, how can this be bad? What we have is good. Love is always a good thing.”

With a smile, his head hit the pillow again and he welcomed you into his arms as you lay back down beside him. “I love you too, you know?”

You closed your eyes, thanking yourself for the moment of quiet before Cal would inevitably drag you back into trouble again. “I know.”

The order had fallen but, by learning from the past, the two of you would build it up again. You’d make it better, reembrace the old teachings but move forward. There was a long road ahead and an empire to topple, but together you’d see it through.

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#—dinguswritings ⌕#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x gn!reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis fluff #cal kestis blurb #cal kestis oneshot #cal kestis angst #star wars #fallen order #star wars fallen order #fallen order cal kestis #cal kestis fanfic #cal kestis fic #cal kestis fanfiction

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findmeinasunshower · 2 years

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𝐵𝑜𝑔𝒶𝓃𝑜 𝒟𝒶𝓌𝓃𝓈: 𝒞𝒶𝓁 𝒦𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓈

word-count: 1.1k

one-shot, fluff

warnings: sleep issues

Sitting in the grass on Bogano, you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. The shift in the light beyond your eyelids tells you that the sun is rising, but the feeling of delicate blades of grass brushing your arms and the sound of boglings playing in the crisp early morning light is enough stimulation for you at the moment.

You still don’t open your eyes even when the sound of footsteps on the ramp meets your ears. Or when you hear boots walking toward you through the grass, and sense a warm body settle down next to you.

Cal doesn’t speak, but you feel his support even without seeing him. That feeling is what finally makes you open your eyes.

You expect to be met with the harsh light of the newly risen sun in front of you, and are surprised to see that it’s still below the horizon. The sky is painted a deep purple, with streaks of gold indicating the oncoming sun. And the grass dances in the breeze like a swaying sea, with the white stone of the ruins glowing purple in the semi-darkness.

Finally, you look at Cal. He’s staring straight ahead at the incoming dawn, completely relaxed with one arm propped up on his knee. For once, BD-1 isn’t accompanying him on his shoulder.

You open your mouth to greet him, but Cal beats you to it:

“It was always raining on Bracca,” he says. Even though you were expecting it, the sound of his voice jars you slightly. A small smile turns up the corner of his mouth. “I’m still getting used to not being wet all the time. And the sight of a sun. And the feel of wind that doesn’t immediately make me freezing.”

“And boglings playing in the field,” you add playfully.

Cal chuckles and turns his head to look at you. His gaze sobers. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Your eyes drop from his as your smile fades. “No.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well lately at all,” he observes. Your surprise must show on your face because Cal smiles innocently and shrugs. “Jedi, remember?”

You breathe out a cautious laugh. “Yeah.”

“So why do you come out here?”

His question makes you think. If you’re being honest, you’ve never really thought about why you venture out here when you can’t sleep. Maybe it’s a reason you don’t want to think about. But, you trust Cal. More than anyone or anything.

You look back toward the horizon; the sky is magenta now. “I’ve never seen a dawn,” you admit. “My planet was lucky in the Outer Rim. I used to sleep in, not look outside until the sun had risen. But then when the Empire found us, everything changed.

“I’ve only remembered recently that my mother would go out and watch every dawn. Every goddamn one. So even when I come out here and I can’t sleep, I can’t bring myself to watch a dawn. I just close my eyes and I...I feel it, and I just feel...peace, you know?”

A long pause passes between you before Cal responds.

“You know, now that I think about it...I’ve never seen a sunrise either.”

You look at him skeptically. “Really?”

Cal does that adorable little shrug again. “Master Tapal liked to get me up early for training, but we were on a ship. When I looked out a window, it was nothing but black and stars.” He smiles softly and gently bumps you with his shoulder. “How about we watch this one together?”

Despite your heavy heart, you can’t help the bashful smile that spreads across your cheeks. “I’d love that.”

Cal grins and when he looks back ahead, you take a moment to observe him.

You’ve seen this boy angry. You’ve seen him cocky. You’ve seen him lose hope after clawing his way out of whatever pit he’s been dropped in. But you’ve never seen him as content as he is now, lounging next to you in the Bogano mud.

Even facing away from you, you can still see the weight behind his green eyes. Cal’s been through so much, even more than you, and yet most of the time he’s the one reassuring you when things go sideways. Despite everything, after backsliding into hopelessness and hatred, he consistently sticks to his own beliefs. And even when it’s you comforting him, when it seems like the entire galaxy is trying to beat him down, he never truly gives up.

That takes a monumental amount of energy for anyone, let alone a Psychometric Jedi who’s experienced as much trauma as he has.

Your eyes travel down to the long scar across his nose, then to the one lining his jaw. "Hey Cal?”

“Hm?”

You reach out and trace your finger gently across his jawbone. “How did you get this?”

“The scar? A blaster during the Purge.”

You tap your nose gently and point at him. “What about this one?”

Cal laughs. “A rigging job on Bracca. A cable came back and snapped me across the face. Hurt like a mother, but it comes with the territory.”

“Bullshit, ‘It comes with the territory,’” you laugh. “You’re just too reckless for your own damn good.”

Cal smiles smugly and lays back in the grass. “I prefer the word ‘tenacious.’”

You roll your eyes and lay down next to him, propping yourself on your elbow. “Oh, please.” You lean in closer for a better look at his perfect imperfections. “What about this one?” you ask, feathering your fingers below his right ear.”

“Prauf got me with his Blow Burner.”

“Yikes. Is that where the one hidden in your hair came from too?”

Cal laughs. “Oh yeah. I was half-hairless for weeks, it was awful.”

“Yeah, I’m sure none of the ladies wanted you.” You let your hand wander to his neck. “What about—”

You gasp quietly when Cal’s hand reaches up and traps yours against his chest. His eyes are unreadable as he curls his fingers around yours, unintentionally pulling you in closer. “(y/n)...am I misreading this situation?”

You bite your lip thoughtfully and lean in close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. “I don’t think so,” you whisper. “Am I?”

You think you hear him breathe out a “no” before he lifts up and closes the distance between you. He stops for just a moment before brushing his lips against yours hesitantly, and you let out a soft whimper before kissing him back, drawing a nearly inaudible groan out of him. You feel his heart racing beneath your joined hands.

You don’t know how long you stay there, draped across Cal’s chest kissing him unhurriedly, but at some point through the haze of content, Cal pulls away. “(y/n).”

“Hm?”

He smiles against your lips. “The sun has risen.”

#findmeinasunshower #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis imagine #cal kestis x you #cal kestis fanfiction #jedi: fallen order #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi fallen order fanfiction #fandom imagine #imagine #x reader #x you #fanfiction

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fangirl-inthe-outer-rim · 1 year

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Lazy Morning

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: You and Cal have a lazy morning.

A/N: It's been a while since I looked at my star wars fics. I have advanced my writing so much and you will see once I actually get started on my Survivor fic. Hope you enjoy this one no matter how old it is!

“Ugh,” I groaned after being roused from my slumber. Those on this junk planet were already awake and clearly didn’t care about how tired I was. Suddenly, A hand came into view and slapped me in the face.

“Mmhmm huh?” Cal beside me had just woken up.

“Cal!” I watched as he jerked up, he was definitely more awake now.

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!”

A huge grin spread across my face. Cal followed suit. Giggling, Cal fell back on the bed as the laughter to consumed him. I had curled up due to the intense feeling in my stomach.

Once we had calmed down, we had curled up next to each other. I rested my head on his chest with an arm around his waist. He had his arms wrapped around me and rested his chin on my head. We lay there for a few moments basking in the presence of each other.

“Prauf and I are working on the star destroyer that came in three days ago.”

“Yeah? I’ll be there too I think. I’m helping Osira and the crew with cutting the wing.”

“Sounds like the both of us have an exciting day ahead of us.”

I snickered as we both climbed out of bed. There was no struggle in getting ready. Even if our space was small. We’d perfected the motions over the past two and a half years we’ve been together. As I brushed my teeth, I thought of the moment when I met Cal.

(:)

I was late. I was so late! Kriff, my boss is going to kill me! If I had actually gone to bed when I was supposed to I wouldn’t be in this predicament. But no, I let the girls talk me into going out on the odd chance that I’d meet someone. It was a great night and I sort of met someone. I probably won’t see him again. Since I didn’t have any way of contacting the man. I don’t even think I remember his name. Oh, what was it? Cam? Caer? Ugh, I can’t remember! I need to stop thinking about him and hurry up and get to work.

It was as if fate had a funny way of messing with me. I got to work which started out with an earful from my boss. Then I was shipped off to help out one of the riggers. The irony didn’t fully set in until I reached my post for the day.

“Hey, um… I’m supposed to be helping you out today.” I cautiously approached the man kneeling on the ground. I couldn’t really see him because of a shadow.

When there was no reply I spoke again, “Excuse me? Did you hear me, sir?” Yet again there was no response. That is until I heard a chuckle to my left. An Abednedo stood there watching the exchange.

“He can’t hear you. He’s got headphones on.” The massive Abednedo moved closer to the man and me. “Name’s Prauf. This oblivious idiot’s name is Cal.” My eyebrows drew. I knew that name from somewhere.

“Hey, Cal! You got someone here trying to talk to ya!” With Prauf’s booming voice, Cal finally moved.

Standing up and turning around, the man, looked at Prauf. “What’d ya say, buddy?”

“This one’s been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now”

Cal turned to me and his eyes widened. I followed his movement. This is the man from the night before! The one from the bar. I knew I recognized the name.

“I didn’t think I’d see you ever again. I don’t mean that in a mean way. I just… We never really exchanged any information.”

“Yeah, no. I get it. I felt the same way too. I uh, was told to come help you. I guess the force has a way of bringing people together.” At the mention of the force, Cal’s eyes widened but soon returned to normal.

“Heh, no kidding.”

(:)

“Hello, Y/N, come back to me.” Cal waved his hands in front of my face.

“Oh, sorry. I zoned out.”

“I can see that. What were you thinking about?”

“Just how we met.” I heard Cal snicker, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just how that worked out.” Cal, with a grin, pulled me closer, “I’m glad it happened though.” With a light peck, Cal let me go.

I quickly finished in the bathroom as Cal ran around our place looking for some clean socks. I simply walked into our bedroom and found a pair of socks and presented the socks to the man. With a grumble, Cal took the socks. Now ready, we said our goodbyes and went to our posts.

Tags (Add yourself here!): None yet...

#cal kestis x reader #Cal Kestis x You #Cal kestis #Prauf #star wars fallen order #star wars: jedi: fallen order #Star Wars Fanfiction #Star Wars fanfic #Cal Kestis fanfiction

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kitsune024 · 3 months

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Cal Kestis Fic Recs

Anakin || Vader fics

The Mandalorian fics

holding on to what i haven't got by @jinmukangwrites I Chapters 1/1 I one shot Star Wars Jedi Survivor, WhumpCal, Torture, Darth Vader

While mourning over Cere's body, Cal doesn't notice Darth Vader is still in the archive. Vader decides to take personal interest in Cal's capture and torture from there. ~~~•~~~ "Cold blooded torture" for Bad Things Happen Bingo!

When Things Go Wrong, I Seem To Be Bad(ass) by @paper-crane-castles I Chapters 3/3 I Completed Whump, Cal Kestis Needs a Hug, Lightsaber Duels, Cal picks fights he really should not

Three times Cal Kestis clashes with Darth Vader. Or, Cal being generally (but mostly accidentally) badass, evading the Inquisitorius and frustrating the heck out of one (1) Very Angry Sith Lord by managing to escape from him. Frequently. 1. In hindsight, going to Jedha was kind of a stupid idea. 2. Cal gets into the most one-sided bar fight of his life on Nar Shaddaa. 3. Takodana seemed like a good spot to rendezvous with his friends. Until it wasn't.

Bookmark Series

Star Wars: Aberration by @siege-gunn I Part 1-12 I Star Wars: Fallen Order, Inquisitor Cal, Vader Trains Cal, Dark Side Cal Kestis

#cal kestis #fic recs #fanfic rec #ao3 fanfic #I'm sorry i couldn't resist adding a gif of cal with long hair- he looks so goooood #star wars #cal kestis fanfic #cal kestis fanfiction #fallen order #star wars survivor #more fics will come #sw fanfic #sw

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jedi-princess-kestis · 6 months

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Chapter 1.

Warnings: Normal Star Wars fighting, maybe a swear word, slight mention of death and flashbacks. I think that's it.

Word count: 6k

The halls of Naboo were as beautiful as the stories told. Gold lined the pillars and walls, marble stone arches and walkways filled the spaces. Plants of many kinds and shapes lined the walls on the outside while the inside had many paintings and statues as its decor. The heels of shoes clicked on the marble floor, the rustle of fabrics as they walked filling the space in the Palace. A young woman with platinum white hair and gray/ blue eyes walked down the halls with her escorts. She was about 5'6, but her power spoke volumes. She was the Princess of Alderaan, the adopted daughter of Bail and Breha Organa. At the age of 18 she was on a diplomatic mission to the world of Naboo, by request of her Father, to ask the queen to come back to Alderaan for an important meeting.

The girl's dress was a soft pale purple with gold embroidery all over it that fell into a long cloak down her back with gold patterns. Her hair was pulled up into a smooth high ponytail that fell into long curls and braids, a golden leaf crown wrapping around the back of her head under the ponytail to the top, spreading out on the top of her head like a cap. Golden earrings with amethyst gems dangled delicately from her ears, and small amethyst studs were in the next piercing up. A small delicate chain sat around the base of her collarbone, a beautiful yellow crystal wrapped in golden swirls and leaves hung from the chain. Golden 1 inch heels graced her feet, the soft click of her footfalls filling her ears.

As her and her party walked towards the grand doors of the Queen's Throne Room, the guard nodded his head to her in respect before pushing open the door. Giving him a nod of thanks, she stepped through the threshold and walked down the pale blue rug towards the throne. Queen Tamrina Paldalli was a young queen at 23, tall and slender with bright brown eyes and golden hair. Her face was painted white, the customary red dots the only spots of color on her face. Her hair was twisted and pinned in elaborate ways, framing her face. Her headdress sitting just so upon her hair. A heavy looking gown of red and orange draped across her body, showing her figure in the right places.

"Princess Ari, what a delight!" Queen Tamrina called out as the younger women stopped a few feet away and curtsied low before the queen. Even though she had heard this name for six years now instead of her true name, Moaria, it still felt strange.

"Your Majesty. It is an honor." Moaria spoke with a soft tone, her voice seeming to float on air. She stood up straight, a regal composure all to be seen. Years of royal training and tradition embedded in her bones. "I come with an invitation from the Royal Family of Alderaan. My Father asks for Your Majesty to join him to honor the new moon on the day of High Tide and feast with us as the honored guest." She delivered her message with pose and grace. She saw a flash of understanding in the Queen's eyes, before she gave a bow of her head.

"I would be honored to join you back to the palace of Alderaan, Princess Ari. Thank you."

Ari tipped her head, letting her shoulders relax a bit. The hard part was over now. She delivered her father's coded message to Tamrina, now she just had to travel back with the Queen to her home world. Glancing back up Moaria noticed for the first time a young man standing in the shadows behind the Queen's throne. A hood from his poncho was pulled up over his head, the shadows casting onto his facing making it hard to see his eyes, only his nose and lips visible to the light. His face was clean shaved, and a high collar came up his neck. His black poncho covered his torso down to his knees. His hands rested in front of him, clasped together. Dark brown pants clinged to his legs and calf high black boots. He was calm and quiet, but didn't seem like a threat. She pulled her gaze away from the man and looked back to Tamrina. The Queen of Naboo waved her hand to a Handmaiden who came to stand at the base of the throne.

"Please bring some tea to the balcony, I wish to catch up with my guest in privacy." The court bowed to the Queen, and her handmaidens left as well as the guards. All but the young man. He remained tucked in the corner unmoving.

"Your Majesty…" Moaria spoke softly, dipping her head towards the young man. Tamrina glanced towards him and smiled, looking back at the Princess.

"Have no fear, he is a trusted guard… and a friend to us." She answered, emphasizing the last word. Moaria understood this meant he was loyal to the Queen, to her Father, and the republic they still believed in. Casting one last look at the guard her Father had in no doubt planned to have there all along, she followed the queen out to the balcony, away from any who may overhear them that supported the Empire. Moaria knew for years her Father and Mother still hoped for a chance for the Republic to return, and supplied Rebel ceils all over the galaxy with much needed things. But she had been kept from it all, tucked away with Leia from the eyes of the Empire and Vader. It wasn't until recently when her Father called upon her to deliver this message to Naboo, in hopes the Queen could help give information about the Emperor that could help with the fighting, since he was from this world. She has no clue how Bail had found out Tamrina was against all the Empire stood for, but she was happy for it. To have an ally close in age. Once they were seated out on the balcony, the handmaid brought them tea and a cookie like biscuits before bowing and going back to the throne room. The young guard stayed within eyesight, but never close enough to hear them speak in a normal tone. For some reason his presence made Moaria feel calmer about her first mission off world alone.

"So Ari, now that you are 18, is the Senator letting you take part in more missions and more…. Diplomatic meeting for him?" Tamrina asked as she slipped on her tea. The white haired girl took her cup in her hand but didn't sip from it, instead she let the warmth bleed into her hands as she looked out over the courtyard. She let out a soft sigh and looked back at the Queen.

"Father has his reasons for keeping me from being in the light, same as my sister. We both know how dangerous this galaxy can be."

"You more than Leia ever could."

Casting a glance at the Queen she wondered just how much she really knew about her past, how she became the daughter of such an important family. "Yes you could say that, Your Majesty. But Father has spoken more of Me, more of the work he does, the importance of it. He has started to ask me to be a part of it in ways." She smiled at her friend, "Like now, being here." She finished off before taking a sip of the warm liquid. She say the cup back down on the table and leaned back against her chair back, letting the warm summer wind blow across her face.

"I love Alderaan, the mountains and how untouched the planet seems." Moaria spoke up after a moment of silence, "but here it is so warm. The wind doesn't carry such a bite to it. I wish we had warmer winds like this back home."

"Yes, we are truly blessed to have such wonderful weather here on Naboo, but I must say I am always so jealous that you get to see snow on your mountain tops. I've never seen it snow on Naboo before." Tamrina answered back, as she sat her cup down, looking to her left to glance towards the lake country to the car north. "No matter where we go in this Galaxy we will always wish to have something that someone else has, but in the end we still love the place we call home the most." A smile graced her whitened lips as she turned back to Moaria

Moaria was about to speak when the sound of a ship racing across the sky broke the silence around them, making her look up towards the sky. A sleek black ship was heading for the landing pad and as Ari watched it she felt a dark and deep pit in her stomach. She glanced at the Queen who's face held a look of worry.

"Are you expecting more company today, Your Majesty?" Moaria asked with a slight shake to her voice. Queen Tamrina shook her head side to side softly.

"No." Was all she said.

This made Moaria feel even worse. The dark pit in her stomach grew as she glanced towards the landing pad and saw Stromtroppers walking the path towards the palace. Behind them, clad in black armor, was an Inquisitor. The Fourth Brother.

She stopped breathing for a moment, unsure what her next move should be. The very reason her and Leia were kept away from the rest of the Galaxy now was marching towards her, with no escape in sight as his ship blocked the path to her's.

"No matter what happens, stay silent, blend into the shadows and let me handle this Ari." Queen Tamrina said in a hushed tone before getting up from her seat and making a quick pace for the throne room. Glancing at the young man who had stayed in the shadows, she waved for him to come forward. As he approached, Moaria could see the hint of a scar on the bridge of his nose, and a small scar on his lower lip, but his eyes still remained hidden by the shadows of his hood. Turning to look at the Queen she felt her push something into her hand. "Take this. If something happens open it and save the people." Moaria looked down and saw a small silver disk, before shoving it into her dress pocket. Tamrina's words ringing in her ears as she tried to understand what was happening.

"Protect her at all cost." Tamrina spoke to him in a regal tone. With a nod of his head, he grabbed Moaria's hand and pulled her away from the queen, more towards the back of the throne room, behind the throne where the Handmaides would stand and stood in front of her slightly. Her own handmaid came rushing into the room, her pale green and purple dress swirling around her feet as she made her way over to Moaria. The look of fear in her eyes was enough to make Moaria swollen hard. Palace guards came into the room, and stood near the Queen, as well as two of her handmaidens.

"What is the Fourth Brother doing here?" Moaria asked quietly. The man in front of her stiffened slightly, but she focused on the Queen.

"Because he found out about Me." Was all the Queen said before the doors to the throne room were pushed open, slamming against the walls. Moaria watched in fear as the black cladded man entered the room.

"What is the meaning of this Fourth Brother?! The Queen has an appointm- Ah!" The Royal Advisor spoke to the Inquisitor before he was picked up by the Force and thrown against the nearby wall, sliding down it unconscious. Moaria let out a silent gasp, and the hooded guard in front of her laid a hand on her arm, pushing her farther behind him. She felt a surge of warmth spread through her arm at his touch but she pushed it aside as the Inquisitor got closer to the Queen.

"And to what do I owe this disrespectful entrance into my palace?" Tamrina answered in a tone that demanded respect. "Will the Empire approve of this?"

The Inquisitor walked up to her, stopping a few feet from Tamrina. "The Emperor sent me. He knows you have been dealing with… Rebels… and is disappointed in you, Your Majesty." The rapsy, unhuman voice came through the helmet of the Fourth Brother. He stepped closer, getting his face close to the Queen's. "And he knows you have been harboring a Jedi among you." The snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting filled the quiet room. The Queen was unmoving, her face hard as stone as she looked into the black and red armour of the Inquisitor.

"Your accusations are false. There is no Jedi here. Naboo is a part of the Galactic Empire. You dare challenge its Queen?"

An evil laugh cracked through the mask, a shake of his head as he brought his blade up close to Tamrina's face. Moaria felt the hand on her arm tighten, seeming to sense her need to save her friend, keeping her in place behind him, tight against his back. He was taller than her, about 5'10, and he blocked most of her view, but she peered around his shoulder, to see what was happening. His poncho smells of pine, earthy with a smoky finish. Small burn holes and frayed tears covered the garment, yet it was still soft against her skin.

"You disgrace the Empire with your treason, Your Majesty. And you shall pay." The Fourth Brother hissed before swinging his blade in the air. Moaria gasped as a bright green blade met the blade of the Inquisitor. She watched as the Queen held the lightsaber in her hands, the green glow on her white painted face.

"Well now… what a surprise!" The Fourth Brother and Queen Tamrina took swings at each other, their blades hissing and popping as they hit each other. Tamrina was fast with her lightsaber, keeping up with the Inquisitor. She raised her hand, using the Force to push the Inquisitor back, his boots sliding against the marble floor. The sound of a ship flying close to the balcony of the palace filled the air as the road of lightsabers clashing together once again sounded.

"More radicals!" The stormtrooper near the door called out as the ramp to the ship opened at the balcony, a tall slender woman with white hair pulled up into a bun and face markings came into view. She was wearing a red shirt, black jacket, black pants with a red stripe down them and black knee high boots. Green light shined from her fingertips as she jumped from the ramp to the balcony floor.

Moaria felt a panic rise in her chest as the grip on her arm tightened. The hooded man turned and faced her, his green eyes now visible being so close. She tried to pull her arm free from his grip, panic taking over her body. "Let go of me!" She cried out as she started to pull her towards the balcony doors. She looked back over her shoulder towards Tamrina, watching as she still dualed with the Inquisitor. She watched as she hit him enough to send him backwards a few steps, before she turned to face Moaria.

"Ari!" She cried out as she reached out a hand for the Princess. "Ari run!" Was all she said before gasping out in pain. Her eyes grew wide as she looked down to see the blood red blade of the Inquisitor's lightsaber coming through her stomach.

"No!" Moaria screamed as she pulled her arm free from the hooded guard. She felt a surge of power flow through her veins, the stormtroopers who had been injured in a fight with the women with the face markings screaming out in pain, their bodies shaking in their armor. The Inquisitor grabbed his head, shaking it as though the sound of her cries hurt his ears. Right as he looked up, the hooded guard jumped in front of Moaria and threw his hood back, his bright red hair catching the sunlight that filtered in through the windows. In a blink of an eye a lightsaber with a brilliant blue blade landed in his hands.

"Jedi Scum." The Fourth Brother spit out as he pulled his blade from the dead Queen and charged forward.

"Get the Princess on the ship, we need her alive!" The red head yelled to his partner as he raised his blade to block the blow from the Fourth Brother. He flicked his wrist and pushed Moaria backwards into the arms of the woman who grabbed her and in a poof of green smoke, they disappeared and landed on the ramp of the ship. Moaria watched as the redhead fought against the Fourth Brother, his lightsaber now pulled apart into two blades of blue light that twisted and twirled with the red striking and hitting against each blow. She looked to the left a bit and saw the lifeless face of the Queen. A woman she had called a friend, a woman she trusted, only to realize she never really knew who she really was. She was pulled from her thoughts as she was yanked inside of the ship, the redhead jumping into the ramp as he threw one of his sabers at the Fourth Brother, and called it back with the Force after it hit his red blade.

"Come M'lady!" The woman said with an accent as she pulled her farther into the ship as the boy jumped inside and slammed his hand against the panel on the wall to shut the ramp.

"Greez, let's get out of here!" He called out breathlessly as he shut off his twin blades and put them back together to hang at his side. The ship snapped to life, taking off quickly towards the sky. "My Lady, are you okay?" His voice called out to Moaria. It was smooth like honey, with a slight boyish tone to it, and hints of deeper raspy undertones in some of his words. She looked up at him, her breath still coming out in fast puffs. She leaned against the table that was in the middle of the ship as her balance became shaky as the ship went into hyperspace. "Princess Ari?"

"I think she is in a bit of shock, Cal." An older feminine voice said from behind Moaria. She turned to see a darker skinned woman with short curly black hair walk from the cockpit. "Why don't you sit down Your Highness, and rest for a moment." Moaria nodded and sat down on the leather sofa behind the table, keeping her eyes on the stranger before her. Her hands shook in her lap, flashbacks to six years ago creeping into her mind's eye. The smell of burning flesh, the sounds of lightsabers clashing and hissing as screams filled the air so thickly it made it hard to breathe. Pain. Pain she never felt before flooding every inch of her body and soul as everything she knew came crashing down around her.

With a shake of her head she pushed those thoughts down, far down into the very corner of her mind and locked eyes with the redheaded man. "Who are you? What is happening?" She asked in a shaking voice, once much softer than she had intended. The man took a few steps close and sat down on the other side of the sofa. Seeing him without his hood up, she realized the scar on his nose went onto his right cheek, then faded and a few inches later started again on his lower cheek and went down his neck under his ear. He had a small scar that cut into his right eyebrow as well as the small scar on his bottom lip. His hair was cut shorter on the sides, and slightly longer in the top, but pushed back. His skin on his face was pale with some freckles.

"I'm Cal Kestis. Jedi Knight.", He then turned to his crew and pointed out each one as he spoke their names. "That's Greez Dritus, Cere Junda, and Merrin." He turned back to face the Princess, her eyes searching the room and people around her. "My Lady, we are taking you somewhere safe-".

"You will take me home!" Moaria roared as she jumped up from her seat, looking at the man, Cal, with fire in her eyes. "Or am I to be a hostage? Is that the plan?" She held herself tall, her voice no longer shaken and scared. Cal jumped up with his hands in front of him, as if he was trying to approach a scared animal.

"What? No!" He said in surprise. "My Lady, your father sent us to protect you in case something like this did happen. We are not your enemy here."

The taller woman, Cere, stepped forward and placed a hand on Cal's shoulder. She patted his shoulder and he sat down, still looking up at Moaria like a puppy. The older woman approached the Princess and looked her right in the eyes. "We are taking you somewhere you know. Somewhere your father told us to. You will see him there and he will explain everything." Her voice was firm, a tone Moaria remembered from her past. Something was both comforting and heartbreaking about the familiarity of it. Pushing the thought down she looked at the crew before her. The Latero stood closest to the cockpit, his arms folded over his fat and fluffy torso. Next closest to him was the white haired woman with the face markings. A Nightsister. She was thin, but the muscles showed through the sleeves of her shirt. Then stood Cere. She held herself proud, yet there was a cold, sad look behind her eyes. Then stood Cal, a handsome young man with his fiery copper hair and scars, but he had the eyes of someone who had seen things before his time. Survivor's eyes. The same eyes she saw in the mirror each morning.

Before she could say anything, the scanners started to beep and the ship started to slow down. "Take some seat, we are coming out of hyperspace." Greez said as he made his way back to the cockpit, Cere not far behind. Moaria sat back down and smoothed out the silk of her dress. She tried to smooth down any flyaway hair that may have gone astray during the ordeal. She watched as the stars stopped zooming past the window in a blur of light and Polis Massa came into few. She felt her body stiffen upon seeing the asteroid planet. Six years ago her life changed forever after seeing this place. She saw the base sitting on the rocky surface and the ship docked on its landing pad.

Her Father's ship.

A sigh of relief at seeing some familiar after everything that happened over the past hour overtook her body. All she wanted was to have her father hold her and tell her all was well. But she knew that was just a fairytale wish, today was anything but fine.

The Mantis, as she learned the ship was called, landed on the pad next to her Father's ship and the ramp slowly made its way down. With quick and airy steps, her dress swirling and blowing around her legs, she made her way down the ramp and threw the long hall of the base in search of Bail Organa. Her heels clicked against the floor, flashbacks and memories threatening to fill her mind with each passing step down these halls. Moaria was about to make a right turn down the hall when she slammed into a strong body. She didn't get a chance to look up to see who it was when arms went around her immediately. The soft tickle of his beard, the strong arms that held her, she knew it was her Father.

"Oh my dear sweet child." He breathed against her forehead as he pulled her closer. She wrapped her arms around his back, laying her head on his shoulder as her body finally gave out. "Easy, Daughter. Let's go sit down." Pulling back slightly to guide her down the hallway to the conference room. Looking over his shoulder, Bail saw the crew of the Mantis and nodded for them to follow. She leaned on her Father as he guided her to one of the chairs and sat down beside her. Looking up, Moaria finally saw the room they had gone into. The same room she had stepped into six years ago. The room she became Ari Organa, and left Moaria Hollbir behind.

"Father…" her voice cracking as she tried to hold back all the emotions she felt deep inside her chest. "Did you know? About Tamrina?" Her blue eyes held back the tears that threatened to spill over. She watched as he rubbed his chin, his eyes holding a sad and soulful look to them. They had both seen so much since the fall of the Republic. They had to endure so much over the last few years.

"Yes, I knew she was Force Sensitive. It was why she was so helpful to the cause. She knew the risks, same as any of us what going up against the Empire could mean." His voice was heavy, as he rubbed his chin. Moaria slumped back into her seat, her regal composure slipping as she had no energy to keep up appearances. She looked over at the group of people who brought her here. Cere didn't seem surprised at all by the news, but Cal seemed to still be shocked like she was. Merrin was harder to read, and Greez wasn't looking up at anyone. "Her death is unfortunate though, beyond just the loss of her life. She had important information on the Empire that she found on a trip to Coruscant, one that we may have desperately needed." Bail continued as he leaned back in his seat.

"What information?" Cal's voice spoke up for the first time since being in the ship. Moaria liked the sound of his voice, with the boyish undertones coming through. She looked over at him and met his eyes, a slight redness spreading across his pale cheeks. Turning back to her father she remembered the small flat silver disk that had gotten shoved in her dress pocket. Slipping her hand into her pocket she ignored her Father's answer to Cal as she looked down at the small disk in her hand. Tamrina risked and gave her life for this disk, knowing she would die as she shoved the disk into her hand. So many emotions filled her body as she held that disk in her hands. Parts of her she had shut off after the fall of the Republic started to stir. It was like something within the disk called to her. Still looking down at the disk she spoke up.

"Is this what she was to bring to Alderaan?" Moaria held the disk higher for the others to see. Bail turned back to face his daughter, and his eyes grew wide as he saw what lay in her hand.

"Where did you get that?" He asked. She looked up at him, still feeling that energy running through her body.

"'Open it and save the people.' That's what she told me right before she told Cal to protect me at all cost and the Fourth Brother took her life." She looked at Cal and then back to her Father. "There is so much unanswered Father. Why was I not told there was going to be a Jedi there to protect me? Why are we here… in this place? What was Tamrina hiding on this disk?" Handing the disk to her father she watched his eyes for answers. She watched as his brows crinkled, the worry lines framing his face as he was deep in thought. Standing up he walked to the head of the table and pushed a button, the door sealing itself and the blinds of the windows sliding down, the room growing darker. Slipping the disk into the box at the end of the table, a holo popped up bright blue in the center of the table.

"Your answers lay here. Tamrina heard of a plan, one that the Emperor himself was looking into. Knowing what Queen Tamrina was, I felt it unsafe to send you to her without a backup plan. So I reached out to friends in the cause and they told me about Cal and his crew. I wanted to make sure if something like this happened I could get you out of there, before the Empire got ahold of you." Bail went on to explain as he walked back to his seat beside Maoria. Cere stood up pointing to the Holo, Moaria saw something she didn't ever expect.

"Ilum wasn't the only Kyber Crystal planet?" Cere spoke up as she read the Holo. Looking closer at the Holo, Moaria saw the name of a planet she had never heard of before: Neonarro.

"I've never seen nor heard of this planet or its people before." Spoke Cal as he took a closer look.

"Especially being a Kyber planet, why didn't the Jedi ever talk about a second world to harvest Crystals?" Pointed out Cere as she rubbed her chin. Moaria had to agree with the former Jedi. This place wasn't one anyone had been told about growing up or hearing star pilots talk about. So where was this place? Looking farther at the Holo she saw a smaller amount of writing that seemed to call to her. Leaning forward she saw texts talking about the center part of the planet…. And her people. The words called to her, like a small tug on a string that was wrapped around her soul. Something about the world seemed familiar yet so foreign at the same time.

"This place isn't on a starmaps. It's a lost world, out in the far corners of frontier space. No one has really traveled there since the Old Republic days. All maps and hyperspace lanes have been lost to history to this world." Bail spoke as he read more into Neonarro. "But it must be important if Tamrina took this information from the Empire and got it into our hands."

Moaria kept looking at the Holo, going over the texts and imagines of the planet. Standing up she took a few steps to the left, looking at it from a different angle. That's when she spotted something on a different line in the texts. "Here! It's something about a Jedi Temple."

Cal stood up and walked over to where she was standing. "The one on Coruscant?"

"No, it's an older one, from the Old Republic times. It's somewhere in the Keneda System, in the Outer Rim." She pointed to the small Holomap below the texts. Pulling it up closer there were thirteen worlds marked in the Keneda System. Only two had been checked off. "Whatever this Temple is, they have only looked at two of them. There must be a map or a clue on how to find this lost world."

"We already know the Empire is taking all the Kyber Crystals they can. They took Ilum. If they find another world full of crystals… What could stop them from doing something terrible to this Galaxy?" Cere whispered as her eyes got a far away look to them. The room grew quiet as they all looked at the Holo. Emotions were running rampant, the idea of a lost world and people, the Empire on the hunt, and the death of the Queen was a lot to deal with. Maoria read over the texts about the hidden Jedi Temple again, something about it called to her, like a lost friend reaching out.

"We have to find this Temple and Neonarro before the Empire does." She broke the silence after sometime, looking at each pair of eyes in the room. "If we don't, the fate of the Galaxy might forever be sealed into the hands of the Empire."

"That, my Daughter." Bail said with a look in his eyes, "Is why we are here, and not back on Alderaan." Sliding the Holo to the side a new Holo pulled up, but this time with Moaria's picture on it. "The Empire believes you were taken hostage and are being held for ransom. This was plan B had we needed it. Which now we do." Moaria was confused upon hearing this. She had no clue what Bail could mean. Why was her being held hostage important for the Empire to think was true?

"Father, why must the Empire think I am being held hostage? And by who?"

"Saw Gerrera. The Emperor was sent a message by Saw saying that you were taking on Naboo for the death of the Queen. Because of this, the Empire will have its eyes on Saw and Me."

"So now I just what? Hide in the shadows, away from my home until you find someone to find this lost temple?" Moaria asked, a slight sharpness to her tongue. Bail only gave her a look, one that was stern, unwavering. One that looked her so deep into the eyes she felt as though he looked into the very pit of her soul.

"No. This Galaxy needs someone. It needs more than just a few Jedi and Rebels to bring it back from her knees with the spark of hope. It needs a burning light." He took her hands as he leaned closer to her as he spoke the last four words. "It needs Moaria Hollbir." A chill ran through her body as the forbidden name was spoken out loud. A name that came with so many memories. A name that last spoken out loud a young girl's life has been taken from all she had known and turned into a new one.

"Who is Maoria Hollbir?" Cal asked in a soft tone, his head cocked slightly to the side as he tried to understand what was happening. Moaria looked back at her father before letting go of his hands and turning to face the group before her. With a deep breath she closed her eyes and fully opened herself up to the Force after years of hiding in its shadows to protect herself. A soft glow of light, like flickering gold, flowed over her body, her snow-white hair that fell to her thighs slowly turned into soft honey brown hair that fell to her elbows. A dusting of freckles fell over the bridge of her nose. As she opened her eyes they went from blue to a soft cocoa brown. The crew of the Mantis gasped at her transformation. Merrin and Greez seemed to not believe their eyes, Cere held a look that seemed both surprised yet calm, as though she had known but wasn't sure. Cal's was a look of wonder, as though he had just seen something so pretty turn into something so beautiful before his eyes, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. She looked back to Bail briefly who gave her a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, before looking back at the crew. With a strong voice she answered his question.

"I am."

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fanfoolishness · 11 months

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the music of the spheres (Jedi: Fallen Order)

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order, 2000 words, gen. Greez & Cal. Greez Dritus tries to get used to his new passenger. Set immediately after the prologue. Just a little early found family, a little bit of Cal's PTSD, and Greez looking out for someone besides himself.

The Mantis hummed her way through hyperspace, the way she always did when he managed to stay caught up on repairs. Greez hummed with her, a little half-melody under his breath, careful not to wake Cere and Cal. A strange crew if he’d ever had one.

He shook his head, waiting for his tea to steep. This was a weird gig. Probably his weirdest. Definitely the first time he’d ever been hired to do something of galactic importance. He gave his tea a final stir and twitched the teabag out, taking a deep breath of mintrose and bluewing honey. This was some of the last of his stash, but It’d been a rough few weeks on the run and dank farrik, he deserved a little treat.

He went to take a sip, but the scalding heat deterred him. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised; he knew how long it took the tea to cool. Impatient as always.

He hummed his half-melody, then let it fade in his throat. There was some other sound mixed in, something wrong, discordant. Greez picked up his head, ears twitching. What was that? He set down his cup of tea carefully on a coaster and gazed around.

Cere was still up front, stretched out and snoozing quietly in her chair. She’d complain about being sore in the morning, but she was the one who’d grumbled at him when he tried to convince her to go catch some proper shut-eye. Wasn’t her, then.

He heard it again, a sound that didn’t fit with the familiar thrum of the Mantis. Some kind of mumbling. He couldn’t make out the words.

Maybe the kid was chanting? Seemed like something a Jedi would do. He ought to leave him to it. But Greez was a nosy one, and it was his ship, anyway. He left the galley and headed back to the bunks.

He heard a distinct “no” and he nearly stopped and turned around. He was halfway through calling out a hasty apology when he realized it didn’t seem like the word had been said at him. He crept on down the hallway.

In the dim sleeping lights he could just make out the kid, curled up in his bunk, fast asleep. Maybe he’d imagined hearing something? But the kid’s face looked tense. Off, somehow. Greez watched him, feeling unsettled, though he wasn’t sure why.

The kid flinched. “No, please, stop -- don’t shoot, don’t --” the kid slurred. Even from a few feet away Greez could tell he was shivering in his sleep. “Master -- ‘m sorry -- no --”

That was far enough. “Kid?” Greez called out. “Uh, hey, Cal? You all right?”

The kid snapped awake, wild eyes darting, shoulders heaving. He sat up sharply, taking ragged, gulping breaths. “What -- where am I --”

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Greez awkwardly, holding out his hands. You put your foot in it now, Dritus! He slowed his speech, tried on what he hoped was a soothing tone. “You’re on the Mantis, with me and Cere. Remember us? Picked you up on Bracca? Saved you?”

“Bracca -- Prauf…” the kid said, the hunted look fading into something dazed and blank. He blinked, then scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his grimy hand. “I -- I must have been dreaming. I remember now.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bunk, swallowing. “What is it?”

Greez twisted his lower pair of hands together, fiddling with his fingers. “You were talkin’ in your sleep.”

“Oh,” Cal said. He looked away. “I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“You got nothing to be sorry for,” said Greez. Kriff, what was with this kid? “Just didn’t sound pleasant, that’s all. Figured I’d check on you. You okay?”

Cal opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. “I don’t know,” he said sheepishly. “I guess not? I try not to think about it.” He smiled. It looked like he was trying to remember how.

Greez let out a long breath. “Huh. I know a thing or two about that, I guess. Hey. Come on, kid, take a walk with me.”

“A walk? Did we land?”

“Figure of speech. But you look like you could use something to clear your head.”

Cal stared down at his boots. “Did I wake you up? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, you’re -- Come on, look, I ain’t asking a third time.”

“Uh, all right,” the kid said. He got to his feet, towering over Greez. Well, he wasn’t the tallest human Greez had ever seen, but he gangled, and it made him seem taller. Maybe it was part of a larval stage human younglings went through.

Greez led him back to the galley, gangles and all. “Go on, grab some seat. Got something for ya.” The kid sat down on the couch, clearly confused.

Greez didn’t blame him. Hell, he felt a little confused about this too. What was he supposed to do? He was harboring two Jedi -- well, a former one, and half of one -- on his ship, he had about sixteen bounties out on his head, and now the Empire and the Inquisitors were breathing down his neck. None of it made any damn sense, and he had no idea how he was going to handle any of it.

He could handle this one little thing, though.

Greez grabbed the tea, now cooled to the perfect drinking temperature. It panged him, but he handed it to the kid and pressed it into his gloved hands. “Here you go. Made it special, just for you.”

The kid’s eyelids fluttered closed, and he froze for a moment, lost in some kind of reverie. He shook himself free of it and gave Greez a smile, one that reached his eyes this time. “No, you made it for you. You were looking forward to it. You should have it.”

Greez groaned. “Is this some weird Force magic? You have tea-sensing abilities? Cere didn’t tell me that.”

Cal snorted. “Not specifically tea, that would be weird. Just -- sometimes I get echoes from the Force in things. Memories. This time it just happened to be tea.” He paused. “You sure you don’t want it? It does smell pretty good.”

“Nah,” Greez said, waving an arm and settling down beside the kid. “My great-grandma always used to make it when I had trouble sleeping. Looks like you need it more than I do.”

The kid nodded. “I don’t sleep so well,” he admitted. “I mean, I guess you noticed that.” He took a drink of the tea, and sighed in surprise. “Hey. That’s, um, that’s really good. What is it?”

“Mintrose,” said Greez proudly. “Grew it myself here on the ship. Though it’s the last harvest I’ll get for a cycle, I think. You can only take so much at a time.”

Cal took another drink. “What’s the sweetness? Is that the mintrose?”

“Bluewing honey,” Greez said. “Got it off a trader in Mos Eisley. Stuff’s supposed to be rare as anything, but I won it in a game of sabacc. Running out, though, I’ll have to find more.” Especially if he was going to have to share his stock with this hangdog scrapper kid.

“You really think there’s something out there, like Cere says?” Cal asked. “Something to hope for?”

“Don’t look at me. It’s above my pay grade,” said Greez.

The kid lowered his eyes, shoulders slumping beneath his too-large poncho. “Yeah, I figured.” He took another drink. His face twisted to one side, like he wanted to say something and thought better of it.

“Ah, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Cal asked.

“The whole existential dread thing. Weight of the galaxy and all that. Is that a Jedi thing? Cere does it too when she thinks I’m not looking.”

The kid laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Maybe it is a Jedi thing.”

Huh. This wasn’t helping the kid, Greez realized. He leaned back in his seat, thought about the wide starflung void surrounding them. Could there be something out there? Something to hope for? If there was, it’d be a damn shame to leave it all to the Empire. Wouldn’t it?

“Don’t listen to me,” he said abruptly. “There really might be something to Cere’s idea. I dunno, it’s between you and her to figure out. But honestly? I hope she’s right. Galaxy could use a new bright spot.”

Cal raised his head, staring at the holotable. The holo projection of Bogano blinked above it, a sleepy little world in green and brown and blue far on the Outer Rim.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something.

“A new bright spot? …It’d mean a lot.” Cal finished the tea and set it down.

“Coaster!”

“Sorry!” The kid twitched one over with a wave of his fingers, setting the mug down on top of it. “Sorry.”

“S’all right,” said Greez, but he surreptitiously reached out and wiped away the bit of moisture clinging to the table’s surface. “Just trying to keep her in good shape. She’s all I got.”

“Well, you’re doing it,” said Cal. “The ship’s great!”

“You’re just sayin’ that.”

“I’ve seen a lot of ships in the past five years, Greez. Trust me. She’s all right,” said Cal earnestly.

“Yeah? Tell me about ‘em. I always like hearing ship stories.”

Cal settled in, leaning back against the couch and looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought. He pursed his lips. “Ever seen the guts of a Lucrehulk?”

Greeze whistled. “I’ve heard about ‘em. Never seen one in the flesh. That must’ve been something else back when it was new, huh? How long does it take to scrap something like that?”

Cal laughed again, stifling a yawn. “Well, the freighter we had down on Bracca? The Seia Khorrinos? That’s what I first started on, after I -- Anyway, five years later, they’re still working on it. It’s stripped down pretty far -- we definitely made some progress -- but there’s still years of work to do. Solid construction, though. You don’t see many like that.”

“Sounds impressive. Never saw one myself in the Clone Wars,” said Greez. “Tried to stay out of things if I could. But one time I ran the wrong way up against a Subjugator. Damn thing packs a helluva punch.”

Cal yawned again. “What were you doing, trying to get past a Subjugator? In this ship? You a smuggler, Greez? Be honest.”

“Me? A smuggler? I’m wounded at the accusation,” Greez argued. “Okay, sure, I’m smuggling some Jedi right now, but that’s different.” He launched into a fine retelling of how he’d been carrying cargo for some backwater scuzz to pay off a gambling debt, how he’d been caught in the midst of a crazed firefight, how he’d jettisoned the cargo to confuse the droid fighters and dashed away victoriously into the safety of hyperspace --

When he looked over and saw the kid had fallen asleep.

“All right, all right,” said Greez. He got up and shuffled to the kid’s bunk, and came back with a blanket. He tossed it over him, then poked him in the shoulder until the kid mumbled something. “Lay down, you’re gonna be sore if you don’t.”

“Mrrph ffrr brr,” the kid muttered, stretching out on the couch. Greez winced, realizing the kid still had on his oil-stained boots; they were gonna scuff up the seat something fierce. He let out a long breath, fighting the urge to shove the kid’s feet back to the ground, and shrugged all four shoulders.

Eh. He could always clean it up in the morning.

He hit the galley lights, and deep, comforting darkness filled the ship. The emergency lights twinkled in the black, their colorful pinpoints melding with the soft holo glow of Bogano. A bright spot, indeed.

“Night, kid.”

The only reply came in Cal’s quiet breathing, interwoven with the shimmering hum of the Mantis gliding through hyperspace. Greez nodded, humming his little half-melody along with the song of his ship, and this time, it sounded right.

#jedi: fallen order #jedi: fallen order fanfiction #cal kestis #greez dritus #star wars fanfiction #cal kestis fanfiction #a couple easter eggs in here #mintrose tea was something i made up for my tali-mancing Shepard stories #pretty sure i called something bluewing honey in a dragon age fic or headcanon somewhere #the seia khorrinos is a reference to my two oldest OCs from my 8th grade sci fi story some 25 years back #my jedi fic

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calkissed · 2 years

Text

A Candle in the Dark - 2

↬ fem!reader x cal kestis

Chapter 2: Missing Pieces 🕯︎

After resting at Prauf’s, you get started as your first day being a Scrapper. Who knew there was more than one decent person on this planet?

✧ Genre: a bit of angst, pretty general

✧ Media: chapter series

✧ Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Reader finally meets a certain readhead...

!!! Warning tags: swearing, reader is going through it. reader is still really hurt, mentions of food, broken leg, sexy readhead

If you aren’t sure you can read this based on these tags - no worries! Please please do not :) I have plenty other flufflier works on my masterlist :) <3 Take care, and enjoy !

You’d never more badly wanted to ask a question you knew you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t like the answer - there was no doubt in your mind. You didn’t want to admit that you were too prideful on what you thought you knew about people, about the galaxy. Even with your leg sat on another chair and your left shoulder steady on Prauf’s table in his kitchen, you held the side of your forehead while questions spilled out from the top like your head was overflowing.

What you nearly hated more than the question that was burning in your throbbing skull was how well Prauf seemed to understand you. Whenever he looked or talked to you, your brain felt like it was being intruded on. It was as if his eyes were two beady microscopes, peering deeply into your eyes, all the way down to your soul.

In Prauf’s mind, you were a person. A young girl alone, who most importantly, needed help. In yours, you had the experience of a person-lived-in twice and you more certainly did not need anyone’s help. You lived the last five years of your life alone. Well not completely, someone was always on your tail. Someone always wanted you, it wasn’t an unfamiliar circumstance or feeling, to be wanted. But to you, to be wanted was to be taken. To be captured, tortured, mamed, and beaten for - fun, information, or until your soul left your body and your pulse stopped beating.

Prauf was close to stepping out of his small home when he sighed. You were passed out on the table, head laying on the edge with a supporting arm, your other draped off the surface of the place he normally ate alone. Your injured leg still layed on the chair a foot or so away from you. Your other leg coiled into the chair with the rest of your body like it was the most comfortable place to rest in the galaxy. An empty glass once filled to the top with cool water sat near your head, and Prauf couldn't find the pain medicine he’d left you before he went off to bed. He’d seen you fall asleep last night, not wanting to wake or move you anywhere that could be more comfortable. You were finally at peace, the aura of nerves once seeping from your everything had disappeared.

The peaceful scene in front of Prauf was short-lived as a large ship flew above his home, shaking the house like it was a faulty vending machine. Your head shot up as the table shook and you began to stand, adrenaline pumping through your veins instantly. Prauf reached out a hand, not to touch you, but as if to say, “it's alright.” The plane passed as you stared up at the ceiling like you had x-ray vision.

“I was just about to wake you.”

“How stable is this place?”

“Stable enough.” Prauf moved to the small cupboard ahead of you.

“Why don’t you eat something then we can head out for today?”

Your stomach rumbled at his words. Maker, you were hungry. You nodded stiffly, causing him to toss a ration bar to you.

As it landed in your hand, the burning question you’d thought of since the minute Prauf reached an arm to you in your crashed ship rang in your head again. You ate cautiously, but eventually gave up as you scarfed it down. You were feeling a lot better from the night before, though your leg was aching a slight bit less now, your head was now searing in pain. You just then noticed the bacta patch and bandage that was set in front of you. Kriff, bacta was so rare these days. And expensive. That's it.

“Why are you helping me?” You stood this time, anyone who didn’t know of your injuries would think you had none the way your face stayed in one unmoving expression. Your question came off as harsh, but you weren’t giving in that easily to trust. You knew damn well there was no medic here; no doctors, no hospitals, no places of safety, of healing. This was quite literally the best thing anyone could do for you on Bracca. But why?

Prauf sighed, hands at his side as he moved them to his hips. He did the thing again, looking into your soul. You hated how he seemed to do it so easily. “You're a young woman, Y/N. You gotta move on from this place eventually and find your destiny.”

There was no way that was the end of it. He couldn’t…the last time anyone had shown you kindness was over five years ago. Kindness, friendship, and trust were no longer in your vocabulary. You tried not to be moved by his words, and you didn’t show it on the outside at least, though they did tug slightly at your heart.

“I will pay you back.” Your voice was firm, it was not a maybe. Prauf understood, nodding as he unlatched the door.

Stepping outside into a temperature nearly as cold and swamp-like as inside with a sky dim as the house’s walls made your heart jump. You suddenly fell into a memory of Coruscant, the first place you could remember living. The rooms you resided in were cool, but not too cold. It was a temperate that kept your senses keen. Stepping outside, your skin met the warm sun and you could feel the slight breeze, however artificial. It might've been static compared to other planets, but it was also diverse. Bracca was like one long, straight line of the same thing.

The air was cold, the only difference from inside was the light rain. You stiffened in an attempt to stop your shoulders from shaking. You trudged down uneven, cracked steps to where you were assuming Prauf worked. It wasn’t a long journey, but god was it a confusing path. You took it back - Bracca was not like a straight line. You moved over hunks of mamed metal scraps, jumped from mud to landstrip, and finally, you landed in front of a large, open structure. Lights hung and buzzed everywhere like alarms, the orange light already making your head hurt.

It was still raining, and it was picking up ever so slightly each minute, so you simply appreciated the roof over your head. As your feet followed Prauf’s to an official looking area in the Guild, you realized how appreciative you really were of what he’d done. He could have easily walked past you like you weren't even there. Worse, he could’ve taken your ship apart while you laid crumpled in it, your poor body giving up. You shook the thought from your head, grabbing at Prauf’s shoulder as the words escaped your lips before you could think.

“Thank you.” You attempted a meager smile, though it looked rather awkward. Prauf retired your expression and words with a kind smile, the sort you were trying to emulate.

He nodded, understanding how hard that must’ve been for you to say.

“I’m just glad you’re alright, Y/N. You gave me a scare when you were knocked out for so long.” You looked up at his face, quirking your head.

“What do you mean? I just slept like normal? Isn’t it early right now?”

His small eyes got slightly bigger as he realized he’d let information he’d wanted to keep to himself slip. A hand reached behind his neck, scratching it nervously.

“You uh…were out for two…nights, Y/N.”

“What?”

“You really think you healed that fast? You’re walking much better than you were two days ago. Good thing, too. You really needed it.”

You gaped at Prauf, shocked you were out for days. Though it made sense, you guessed - you could walk okay. You had learned to tune out light pain, so walking slowly after what had happened wasn’t the worst thing you’d felt.

Prauf turned from you and opened a small, steel door in front of him. It was rusty, and definitely not the cleanest, a squeaking sound ringing as his large hand twisted the loose knob. Though it was by no means clean, the booth, or office you guessed, was a hell of a lot cleaner than the other parts of the work area.

“Stay here.”

Prauf disappeared behind the door, and you took the opportunity to look around. The hum of small and large ships passing above, far and near, could be heard. The room was large, the ceiling stretching tall with wires all over the circular build. Sparks flew from a few holes in wires and the clankly walls all around, and your eyes spotted a few workers tinkering with them.

No more than a minute later, Prauf hunched under the door frame, behind him a teal colored droid that was as dirty as you probably were.

“This is her, chief.”

The foreman droid twisted its head to you, its body and arms following a moment later.

“She can start working with scrapper 478-G. Send her down.” The droid’s voice was gravely, like it was an old model, which matched perfectly with its physical condition.

“Wait,” It spoke again, returning to its room. You looked at Prauf, almost for guidance, asking subtlety what the droid was doing. Prauf raised his shoulders, shaking his head. The droid returned a moment later, a deep navy poncho in his hands. He held it out to you, your timid, cold hands thankful as you grabbed the piece of clothing. It was frayed, old, and definitely had been previously owned, but none of that mattered. It was a thick material, and was slick as well. It warmed you, and you were glad it would also keep some of the rain from the clothes on your body - the only ones you owned.

“You’re ready now.” You could feel the droid stare at you, though it didn’t have eyes. You nodded one, before it spoke again. “Wait.”

You rolled your eyes, turning again to face it.

“Scrapper 478-G is gone. You will be stationed here with Rigger 1004-B.”

“I don’t know if she can do rigging yet, boss.”

“She will learn.” The droid turned away, leaving you both as he went back into his cave.

“A rigger? I thought you guys were scrappers?”

“We are. They’re pretty similar. Riggers just uh…well it's a bit harder. Pays better, though. You gotta get stuff in the hard to reach places.”

You stiffened, hoping Prauf couldn't hear how loud your heart was beating. You’d done stuff much riskier and more dangerous than this job. It wasn’t even comparable. But you’d never been here. And you had a near broken leg. You hadn’t had to follow many rules for a while, and you hoped the pressure, and pain, wouldn’t crack you.

“Hey, you’ll be okay Y/N. I mean, I’m a rigger. And hell, I’m a lot less nimble than you are.” Nimble was not the word that came to mind to describe yourself since you arrived in Bracca. More like slow and in pain. But Prauf was right. Though your build was smaller compared to his, you were quite strong.

Prauf began climbing the ladder to your next destination. It hung from the entrance, and went up a long way. It made you dizzy to crane your neck up so high. You pulled yourself up, your arms doing most of the work. When you focused too much on climbing, you could feel the pain. Your leg still hurt like a bitch. The rest of you hurt as well too, but all you could focus on was your stupid, hurting leg. Yet it didn’t stop you from climbing like your life depended on it. Which in the long run - it did. You hoisted yourself up as you spotted Prauf walking to a crouched worker ahead of you. You came up beside him and watched the rigger turn around. He had fiery orange hair, matching the orange patches near the top of his poncho that was also on yours and Prauf’s. He took out his headphone and removed a gas mask covering his face with grimy hands.

“Cal, this is Y/N. She’s gonna be your problem until the boss decides where to put her.”

The boy smiled slightly at you, reaching his hand to yours. You were confused for a second or two, but finally raised your hand to shake his. You couldn’t recall the last time someone had shown you a nice gesture before Bracca. Maybe it wasn’t such a trash place afterall.

“We just had a Separatist ship land here before I found you,” Prauf spoke above you, “It’ll be good money.”

The rigger waved at Prauf as he left, the Abednedo giving you one last smile.

“Here, I’ll uh…” Cal looked around the cargo, the two of you alone in the open dome shaped room with sparks still coming from wires. “I’ll show you around. The job is kinda different everyday. Do you have any experience?”

“No.”

Cal’s eyebrows furrowed as he tongue darted to the corner of his lips. Your eyes spotted a scar that cut into his eyebrow, as your eyes trailed over his face to the next. One along his nose, and one from his jaw down his neck. He noticed your eyes, his hand reaching to his neck to cover one.

“So…how’d you end up here?” He asked, moving back to where he was working on the sparked wires.

“Ship crash.” Your voice was quiet. It was your turn to distract him with questions before he got too curious. “What do we do here, exactly?” You already knew the answer.

“We mainly break down starship wreckages and sell whatevers of value to the Empire.” His hands trailed along the drill, switching and flicking buttons before drilling into the piece he was working on.

He stopped suddenly, the drill falling from his hands with a thud on the metal floor that rang into your ears, drowning out any other sound. He huffed, and looked at you, his eyes wide in alarm. He quickly came down from his odd gesture with a sigh. He cleared his throat before asking, “Do I know you? Have we met before?”

“What? No, I've never met you.” This boy was starting to freak you out. What the hell was wrong with him? Suddenly you felt a strong ripple in the Force, something you hadn’t used or purposely dove into for a very long time. A blue lightsaber wielded by a figure with red hair flashed once, making you gasp.

“Are you okay?” Cal asked. What the fuck.

“Fine. Just my head. I…I hit it pretty bad when I crashed.”

His forehead wrinkled in sympathy as he spoke. “Well, in a couple days you’ll be able to buy some stuff to patch it u—”

“What the hell are you doing, rigger? You think we pay you to mess around? Who’s this?” A large, weird looking man had come from another entrance in the open structure.

Cal looked confused, but stood his ground, his shoulders set higher as his posture improved almost miraculously.

“This is Y/N. This is her first day on the job.” His voice was monotonous, much more notably so in comparison to how he was just talking to you.

The gruff man came up close to your face, making you scowl as your eyes squinted at his.

“Listen up. I don’t give a crap about how you got here or who you are. You're alone and you wanna live, right?

Oh you did not like this guy. But you weren’t dumb, this was the only way to make credits on Bracca since the purge. You nodded. Talking to this guy would waste what little energy and patience you had left.

“Good. Then get your ass up and work.”

He stormed off, disappearing down the later you’d come up on.

Cal sighed, apparently sharing your feelings for the man.

“What’s his deal?” you muttered to yourself.

Cal snorted, continuing with his work.

“He just got promoted a few days ago and is on a power kick, since he’s no longer one of the little guys. He doesn't really do much, though. Just walks around to check on us.”

“So what, all of us risking our necks for the bosses?” You were partially joking, though you knew it was true.

“The pay isn't as good as it was during the Republic. Or that’s what Prauf always says. Now, we get paid just enough to get by.”

“Are you and Prauf…”

“Yeah, we’re friends. He’s a pretty nice guy.”

You nodded lightly, “He is.”

That word was one you hadn’t heard in a while. The last friends you had turned their backs on you or were dead. It wasn’t something you were jumping to make after…

Cal tilted his head towards the deeper part of the hangar. “Follow me.”

#cal kestis fanfiction #cal kestis headcanons #cal kestis imagine #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #cal kestis x jedi reader #cal kestis fluff #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x y/n #cal kestis series #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order fanfiction #jedi fallen order x reader #cal kestis fanfic

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vibrantbirdy · 10 months

Note

Helllloooooo~ your writing is fab! May I please request some Cal Kestis x Reader fiction???? Could the scenario please be that the reader was once a jedi padawan along with Cal and they were best friends and maybe have a little child crush on each other and they got separated due to order 66? Then, you guessed it, they find each other after all these years and it's all fluffy and they realise their true feelings and everything adorable?? Please and thank you! Have a lovely day/night!

Hi Anon, thank you so much for your kind words and thank you for this request! I really love writing for Cal!

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Familiarity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor games Setting: Prior to the events of Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Action/adventure; Fluff; Angst; Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Canon typical combat violence; canon typical death/angst/survivor's guilt relating to Order 66; mild sexuality; one claustrophobic scene due to ruined temple adventuring; SPOILERS for Jedi: Fallen Order and minor ones for the set up to Survivor. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: c.8k (this one got away from me!) Author's note: I couldn't write about Order 66 without a little angst but hopefully there's still plenty of fluff and romance and adventure to be found here! Summary: Believing each other lost to the brutal purge of the Emperor's Order 66, ten years after you were separated from your childhood best friend during the systematic eradication of the Jedi Order, you and Cal Kestis are finally reunited amid the strange Temple ruins of an ancient civilisation.

10 years ago

"Run!" Jedi Master Rena Daylum commands as the Clone Troopers who were once your trusted comrades turn their blasters towards you.

Master Daylum dispatches them quickly as you ignore her instruction and ignite your own lightsaber. The purple blade hums into life and you ready yourself for the next squad of Troopers.

But before your saber is even fully extended, a burst of energy hits you squarely in the chest and you fly backwards, skidding across the hard durasteel floor on your backside.

As you look up in surprise, you can't help the childish dart of hurt that stings your pride as you see Master Daylum, her palm extended towards you, and realise that she has pushed you away. She's never used the Force on you like that before.

"For once in your life, Padawan, do as you are told!"

Daylum extends her hand again and the control panels on the open blast door between you explode in a shower of sparks. Even as you run back towards her, the heavy metal doors hiss closed and lock shut in front of you.

With little other choice, you carry out the instruction you've been given and run. You are more frightened than you've ever been in your young life. As you sprint down the Venator-class Destroyer's corridors, you reach out for your Master in the Force. You sense only a dark void where her comforting, consistent presence had always been and in that moment, you know that she is gone forever.

The Albedo Brave, despite her rather sterile appearance with her harsh florescent lighting, her heavy, threatening blast doors and cold metal walls, had seemed homely to you only this morning.

Now the ship feels almost alien. The emergency lighting flashes intermittently, illuminating the corridors with an eerie crimson glow, and the mournful wail of the alarm seems to all but scream in your head.

You hide in a maintenance closet as another squad of Clones pass by. The once familiar voices of the Troopers now sparks a deep dread within you. Over the past month you've been aboard the Brave, you had started to recognise the individual Clones from their personal intonations and patterns of speech, even with their helmets on. Now, their tone is uniform, cold and robotic. And deadly. And this ship is teeming with them.

You think you are heading in the right direction towards the escape pods, but you are far from certain. Upon embarking, you'd been so thrilled about your first assignment to a Venator and the fact that your fellow Padawan and best friend, Cal Kestis, was already onboard. But this excitement meant that you hadn't really paid all that much attention to the safety drill with Master Daylum.

You always thought she'd be here to guide you if anything happened...

As you continue to stumble lost and alone through the gargantuan ship you once called home, you halt abruptly as you think you hear someone shout your name over the blaring alarm.

You look up towards the source of the sound and see Cal peering down at you through the grated walkway of the maintenance corridor above. There is a screech of metal as he removes the heavy durasteel access panel.

"Cal? The Clones ... they killed Master Daylum. She's ... dead," you manage to stammer, "What's happening?"

You feel your face crumple as fresh tears begin to fall. You wipe them away and Cal can only look at you with an expression of sympathy and grief on his kind, honest face.

You both jump as you hear blaster fire nearby. You need to move.

Cal lays himself flat on his stomach and reaches his arm down towards you.

"Come on!"

He stretches out a hand. It hangs agonisingly close, just out of your reach. Your fingertips barely brush against his.

"Jump!"

You try to centre yourself in the Force, but in your panic and confusion, you are completely closed off from it. All you can manage is a pitiful little hop.

"I can't Cal, I can't... I can't feel anything!"

The boy shuffles further off the ledge. He obviously has his feet hooked round the durasteel support struts as anchor points. Still, it looks impossible, but you bend your knees and spring up and off the metal floor.

Somehow, Cal grabs your hand.

Cal is the same age as you - thirteen - but due to a recent growth spurt you are a good few inches taller than him now. You've been teasing him mercilessly about it recently and he has been taking it with his characteristic good nature, biting back with quick witted retorts.

Neither of you are laughing about it now.

You are dangling just inches off the ground and, despite his best efforts, Cal simply doesn't have the strength to pull you up from this angle. He has no leverage. Eventually his grip slips and you fall away from him, hitting the ground with a painful thud.

You look up at Cal, his expression of alarm mirroring what you assume your own must looks like.

“Try again," he whispers urgently, his green eyes wide and desperate.

He extends his arm with all his might, splaying his palm as if the extra few millimetres will make any difference to your predicament.

You twist around from your position on the floor as a new sound carries down the Venator's passageways. Voices. There are voices now. Clones just beyond the nearest blast door. You took your lightsaber to the control panel, sealing it shut as best you could, but it won't take them long to get through.

You lift your gaze back to Cal - your friend, your best friend - and shake your head.

"I'll meet you there," you say, trying to sound brave and reassuring.

Cal hisses your name as you take off down the corridor away from him. You can't bear to turn around and see the lost, pleading expression on his face so you run around the corner out of his sight and you don't look back.

--------------------------------------------------------

Present day

This is not going well, Cal Kestis thinks wryly to himself as spins his lightsaber in his hand, the blue laser blocking blaster bolts and sending them ricocheting back towards the Stormtroopers firing them his way.

The fire from the Troopers is relentless and more and more units in white clad armour continue to pour in through the great ceremonial entrance of the Temple to the ancient Spori civilization.

It is clear to the Jedi now that he has severely underestimated the scale of the Empire's presence on Spori, and their interest in the ruined Temple.

As he raises his saber above his head to parry a strike from a Scout Trooper with a stun baton, he groans inwardly as he remembers the misplaced confidence with which he'd bid farewell to the rest of the crew of the Mantis as they dropped him off and set out on a supply run.

"In and out," he'd quipped. "Easy."

Idiot.

Cal's constant companion, the small bipedal droid, BD-1, is crouched low atop his usual resting place on the Jedi's shoulder. He peeks out every so often to analyse the increasingly desperate situation beeping and whirring unsolicited combat advice in binary.

"Yeah buddy, I know, I know, I know..." Cal mutters through gritted teeth as he is forced to swing his lightsaber in what has become a series of exclusively defensive manoeuvres.

The pace is unsustainable.

*********************************************

You are perched on the shoulder of a gargantuan stone statue, a grand monument to a respected Spori High Priestess. You gaze down at swathes of Stormtroopers as they pour into the ruined Temple.

You've just retrieved a data archive from the inner sanctum of the Temple. The Spori were an ancient civilization who, above all else valued knowledge and spent hundreds if not thousands of years collating information on other peoples, some now lost to the mists of time or ravages of war, including the Jedi.

When you'd heard about the Imperial invasion of Spori, you knew you needed to retrieve the archive in order to preserve any surviving ancient knowledge of the Jedi Order before the Empire could either destroy it or use it for some nefarious purpose...

When you first arrived, although you'd had to evade the occasional Imperial patrol on your trek from the Spori capital across the planet's rugged landscape, there was not the slightest hint of Imperial presence around the Temple itself. It was practically peaceful.

Now, it looked like the Empire had deployed an entire kriffing garrison to the ancient ruin.

From the safety of your high vantage point you watch the chaos unfold below. Or, more accurately, you stare in disbelief at the shockingly familiar figure wielding a blue lightsaber at the very eye of the storm.

"Cal," you breathe out his name.

He's older of course, but it's unquestionably Cal Kestis. You'd recognise that flaming red hair anywhere. He has a short beard to match now and, annoyingly, you come to the conclusion that he has undergone a considerable growth spurt in the last decade or so and he now looks to be much taller than you.

He has a little red and white droid with him. It clings to the Jedi's back, swaying perfectly in tune with its master's movements, never finding itself unbalanced. It's as if the BD unit is an extension of Cal's anatomy.

Cal moves with determination and confidence, striking and parrying with alarming accuracy and speed. It is the fighting form of a competent and experienced warrior, his physicality at once both elegant and deadly. It's a far cry from the stilted and unsure combat stance of the young boy who used to pull his punches in training.

Still, the Troopers just keep on coming and Cal is obviously tiring. He is now on the back foot and will soon be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of Imperial soldiers.

You need to do something.

Scanning your surroundings, your eyes clock the huge, monolithic stone lintel slab hanging above the ceremonial entrance to the Temple. There's a weakness in the left side pillar. If you brought it down with the Force, you could seal off the Imp's only ingress point. Then you would only have to dispatch of the Stormtroopers already inside.

You'll have to find another way out of the ruin itself of course, but that's a problem for later. The situation is becoming dire and this is the thing you can think of to do.

Suddenly, a Rocket Trooper dives at great velocity and collides into Cal, slamming his boots into the trunk of the Jedi's body and sending the him sprawling across the floor where he curls into a ball,. His lightsaber rolls across the flagstones with a mournful clinking sound.

You stand up, using the Force to balance and centre yourself, to find strength. You puff out your cheeks and exhale sharply through your lips. Then, you jump.

*************************************************

Cal writhes on the ground clutching his abdomen at the agonising point of impact where the Trooper had barrelled feet into him feet first.

Didn't see that one coming.

He gasps in deep lungfuls of air as he desperately tries to regulate his breathing through the pain.

Another broken rib? No. Thank the Force. But he's severely winded and there'll be bruising for sure. He knows he needs to move but kriff it hurts.

BD-1, who was thrown from his shoulder on impact, is now dancing from foot to little metallic foot next to him, urging him to get up.

Suddenly, he hears the unmistakable song of another lightsaber and he looks up in awe to see a stranger standing in front of him, purple blade cutting through the air and deflecting the continuing onslaught of blaster bolts.

The figure is hooded, and even when they are forced to turn towards him as they wheel around to interrupt the advance of a Scout Trooper attempting to flank them, he can't see the face hidden behind the folds of material.

Something in the Force nags at him. There is a strange familiarity in the presence of this mysterious warrior who has come to his aid.

Spurred on by curiosity, Cal steels himself and tries to rise, extending out a hand to bring his lightsaber into his hand with the Force. Too late, he registers a flash of white in his peripheral vision as a Stormtrooper's boot collides with his temple and everything snaps into blackness.

***********************************************

You've been stood watch beside an unconscious Cal for almost ten minutes. The dust is still settling from the avalanche of rock you brought tumbling down to the ancient Temple floor. The plan worked. Tonnes of rubble now separate you and Cal from the Empire.

You look down at your childhood friend. Blacked out from a kick to the head or not, you can't believe he slept though that noise. You're just starting to get worried when he finally stirs and groans. His little droid, who has since introduced himself as BD-1, boops hopefully.

"Cal?"

His green eyes, still shockingly familiar despite the passage of time, flicker open. When they finally focus and lock on to yours, they widen in alarm.

Cal leaps clumsily to his feet and stumbles backwards away from you. Disoriented and in pain, he staggers, one hand clutching at his side with the movement, the other held out in from of him. His mouth is agape, and he stares at you as if he's seen a ghost.

Cal says your name as if it's a question. It's barely a whisper.

“Yes,”

“You're...here?" His voice is faltering, unsure. "You're not...?”

Dead? You think he's going to say.

"...not a dream?

“It's me Cal," you reply and your voice is hushed with emotion, "it's really me.”

Cal drops heavily to his knees and you dart forwards to catch him, fearing he's about to pass out again. Instead, when you are kneeling face to face, he grasps your hands in his.

“I can't believe it,” he says breathlessly.

You bring your forehead to rest against his for a moment until he pulls you in a hug so tight you can barely breathe. You return it anyway, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing as if to prove to him that you are not an illusion or some cruel trick of the Force.

He winces and it breaks the spell. You let him go and cast your eyes over him, examining for wounds.

"Force, sorry," you apologise, "Anything broken?"

Cal gingerly lifts up his dark grey shirt which is filthy with dust and grime but no visible blood. He reveals one side of his bruised torso and you can't help but notice how, under the welts, the muscles there are sculpted and strong. Even on this small part of his body, his skin is littered with scars. Like you, it seems, Cal is living the life of a warrior.

"Not this time..." he quips, letting the material fall back into place.

BD-1 jumps up onto Cal's shoulder and gives him a little butt with his flat, rectangular head. The droid ejects a small cannister from one of his compartments and Cal catches it, injecting green liquid into his chest. A healing stim.

"Thanks buddy."

Cautiously, Cal pushes himself to his feet where he stands with his hands on his hips, inspecting the huge pile of rubble covering what was once the grand and sacred entrance to the Spori Temple.

"That got anything to do with you?" he asks, gesturing casually at the mess.

You dust off your hands as you rise to stand beside him.

"Someone had to save your ass. Thought I might as well make an impression on the Empire at the same time."

He looks at you and for the first time since you've reunited with him, he smiles properly. Your heart soars. It's the same boyish grin you remember so well.

"Could be a problem."

"Maybe not..." you reply as you pull out the data pad you'd loaded up with an Old Republic era holo map of the Temple. The technological backflips you'd had to do to get that thing to run on your device...

BD-1 boops indignantly.

That's my job.

"Look at these tunnels," you continue, placating the little droid with a gentle pat to the head as you speak, "they connect to various ceremonial chambers, some functional rooms too, and then out the other side. I think they were once service passageways. It's the long way round, it'll take us a couple of days but..."

"Why are you here?" Cal asks suddenly, as if the thought has only just occurred to him.

He's looking at you questioningly. It's not suspicion. It's a sort of sharp curiosity, and you suddenly become aware of the obvious. That you and Cal are here for the same purpose.

Nevertheless, you trust him implicitly. You bend down and reach into your small knapsack which is currently resting by your feet. You rummage around until you find the tiny golden data sphere which holds the Spori culture archive.

"Why are you here?" You counter, although you suspect your theory must be correct.

Sure enough, Cal raises his eyebrows and nods towards the object in your palm.

"Figures," you say.

You are interrupted by the unmistakable din of a laser firing through rock. The Empire have obviously brought in heavy duty cutting equipment. They must want the Spori archive more than you thought.

"Work it out later?" Cal suggests.

You nod in agreement, before stuffing the data sphere back into your bag and grabbing Cal's hand, leading him briskly towards the nearest service tunnel marked on your map.

***************************************************

You and Cal follow the old passageways for miles. The two of you fall back into your old, easy way of conversation as if no time has passed at all. Your laughter echoes through the ruin, filling up forgotten rooms and dormant chambers where the ring of voices has not been heard in centuries.

Finally, the tunnel you are following leads out to a cavernous ceremonial chamber. It is an extravagantly long hall and all the way down there are huge pillars, inset with hundreds of alcoves where candles must once have been placed for illumination. You try to imagine a grand feast being held here, priests and dignitaries and attendants all floating across the chamber in their opulent ceremonial garb.

Cal nudges you, starting you out of your reverie. You look at him and he nods down the long room towards the furthest two pillars in the distance.

"Race ya."

"Oh, you are so on, Kestis," You accept and crouch into a starting position, welcoming a chance to properly stretch your legs. "On three...One..."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Cal suddenly exclaims, holding up his hands. "Not so fast. On three or after three?"

You turn to him and roll eyes as you register the mischievous smirk on his face. You've had this argument so many times.

"Remember that race with Kya and Mez?" He snorts with laughter, "You were so mad!"

"That's because you all cheated!" You argue and you can't believe that over a decade later, that particular defeat still riles you. "Everybody knows when you say on three, that means you go after three."

"No, that's what after three means!" Cal protests, your seriousness surrounding the situation only causing his mirth to increase.

You know he's right, but you were always so competitive back then. You always wanted, needed to win. Master Daylum had tried to temper and hone that determined spirit into something more refined but, even now, you aren't sure that you've even been able to tame that particular fault in your nature.

You remember once in sparring training, you'd thrown down your training saber in annoyance.

"Why are you doing that?!" You yelled at Cal, who was partnering you, storming across to him and shoving him hard in the chest.

You were convinced that he was holding back with his strikes and it was making you irate. You wanted a proper fight otherwise your victory would be hollow.

"Just because you are scared of everything doesn't mean I am!"

You'd stalked off, leaving him with an expression of shock and hurt on his face. Within five minutes, you'd regained your composure and your insides squirmed with the shame and guilt of unjustly embarrassing your friend.

Later that night, you'd snuck into Cal's quarters to apologise. He accepted with his usual good grace and, as you left, you'd placed a chaste peck on his cheek which made his face turn almost as red as his hair.

Cal was always quick to forgive you after that.

"Ok, ok, fine," you concede, bringing your mind back to the present.

You are unable to stop a smile spreading across your face as Cal struggles to stop his chuckling beside you. You'd always found his laughter infectious and nothing seemed to have changed there. Maybe, maybe you can see the funny side now.

"After three then," you say.

You both adopt a low stance in preparation to dart forwards and get the best start possible. You look at each other and grin and Cal starts to count.

"One...two...three..."

Before Cal can say go!, you set off at a blistering pace. You hear a scrabble of boots on loose stones and an indignant shout of hey! behind you as he scrambles into a run after you. From his perch on Cal's shoulder, BD-1 trills a similar reproval.

You laugh, exhilarated. The wind rushes in your face and through your hair as you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can. You feel like a child again. You feel free.

As you push your body harder, you reach into the Force and you sense the strength of Cal's presence, both familiar and new, in tune with yours. Something warm blooms inside you. It's as if a piece of you has been missing all these years.

It's meant to be like this, you think.

Cal is fast but you've always been quicker than him, your nimble frame allowing you to cover the ground like something feline. Even with his new advantage of height and longer legs, there's no way he'll catch you now as you speed towards the pillars and victory.

You raise your arms in triumph as you cross the makeshift finish line. You turn and Cal is right on your tail, BD-1 crouched low on his shoulder as if to be the cause of the least wind resistance possible.

Cal barely slows as he swoops behind you, grabbing you by the waist. You shriek with laughter and he picks you up and spins you around before setting your feet back down on the crumbling flagstones.

"Cheat!" He accuses, but his expression is joyful and his eyes sparkle with glee.

He puts his hands on his knees and folds over in an exaggerated gesture of catching his breath.

"Now you know what it feels like," you counter, and you slump down against the nearest pillar, enjoying the sensation of the cool stone against your back.

Cal joins you so that you are sitting shoulder to shoulder.

"Force, you're still so competitive," he says.

"And you're still such a sore loser."

You stick your tongue out at him and you both laugh.

You suddenly realise how tired you are. You and Cal have been walking and scrambling and clambering across miles of difficult, dangerous terrain for hours. The Temple is mostly in ruin now and so many parts of it have collapsed or caved in, placing obstacle after unexpected obstacle in your path.

"Rest?"

Cal takes a swig of water from his canteen pouch and grins.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

-------------------------------------------------------

10 years ago

"Padawan, your lightsaber!" Master Tapal admonishes as Cal's weapon skids across the floor and plummets into the oblivion of the turbo-lift shaft.

There is an uncharacteristic note of panic in his Master's voice. It causes a spike of fear to pierce through the young Padawan's very soul and makes him more afraid than even the betrayal of the once friendly Clones, the onslaught of blaster fire that seems to come at him from every direction, and the screeching, disorienting cacophony of the Venator's blaring alarms put together.

"Sorry Master!" Cal exclaims as he scrambles onwards and upwards, towards the escape pods feeling vulnerable and helpless without his weapon.

****************************************************

His Master lies dead on the floor before him. As the escape pod gives a terrifying shudder as it disengages from the Venator, Cal throws himself into one of the vessel's seats, fumbling to secure his safety belt.

He wonders what's become of you. The guilt and shame of his failure washes over him anew as he remembers your stricken face as you fell away from his grasp. He wasn't strong enough to help you. If you're dead, it'll be all his fault. Just like his Master.

The young Padawan clutches his Tapal's lightsaber tightly to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. Finally, he allows himself to let out a wail of despair as he hurtles through space alone towards the planet of Bracca and the unknown.

-----------------------------------------------------

Present Day

Cal is still asleep. You're not sure how - he can't possibly be comfortable. He's lying flat on his back, arms folded across his chest, using a low stone slab as a makeshift pillow.

You have no idea whether the Empire have been successful in their efforts to break through into the Temple and you know you really should get going. But Cal looks so peaceful, you don't want to wake him. Not yet.

Fondly, you examine his face, reacquainting yourself with the constellations of freckles that sit on his nose and cheeks. You still can't get over how grown up he looks. How handsome he's become. The beard gives him a rather dashing appearance.

You wonder how he got that scar across his nose which disappears as it reaches his right cheek then reappears again on his neck. You don't doubt he's got many such marks from his scrapper's life on Bracca.

Deftly, you reach out with the Force. You smile. Elements of his presence feel so familiar to you - Earnest, honest, kind-hearted Cal.

But there is also determinedness, a level headedness, and a self-assuredness you've never felt from him before. You feel a rush of emotion as you realise it reminds you of the steady, secure feeling you used to sense from Master Tapal once you'd stopped being scared of the purple Lasat's outwardly stern demeanour and truly giagantic size.

Whenever you and Cal got into trouble - or, perhaps more accurately, whenever you got Cal into trouble - by sneaking out into the Gardens of the Jedi Temple after hours or some such similar escapade, Master Daylum would almost always lead the reprimand, while Master Tapal would merely observe, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

As an adult, you understand now that the Lasat considered your independent spirit and rebellious nature to be a good balancer for his sometimes overly cautious and uncertain Padawan.

You retrain your mind on Cal. There's something else, something he hides, deep within himself. You realise it's the same bitter collection of feelings that you have struggled with every day since the violent extermination of your Order.

Doubt. Grief. Fear.

You pull back, realising you are teetering on the edge between curiosity and trespass. As if the you have summoned these unpleasant notions to the surface of the sleeping young man's psyche, Cal starts to mumble in his sleep. He twists and jerks as if he's having a terrible nightmare.

You crouch beside him and shake him gently by the shoulder in a desperate attempt to wake him. It takes longer than you would like and as he catapults back into consciousness, he sits bolt upright, his broad shoulders heaving up and down as his breath comes in short, sharp pants.

His eyes flash wildly as he reorients himself and when they finally lock on to yours they blaze with the intensity of green kyber. It's as if he's relieved all over again to see that you are alive.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he blurts out, "I left you there. I left you on that ship."

"No, Cal" you say softly and you place a hand on his bearded cheek.

You've never blamed him. Not once.

Over the years, you've been unable to quash a secretly harboured shard of resentment towards the Jedi, despite your love for the Order you once called home, your family. As an adult, you started to find yourself doubting the morality and the wisdom of training young children to be weapons and sending them off to war.

Nowadays, for the most part, you are able to reconcile your loyalty to the Order with these criticisms, but the realisation that Cal still perceives what happened on the Venator as some kind of personal failing makes these feelings flare up within you all over again.

"No," you repeat and your tone is firmer now, "we were kids, Cal. We both did what we had to to survive in a situation we should never have had to face.”

Cal shakes his head and looks away.

“Do you ever dream of it? Of the Venator?” he asks, staring into the distance.

“All the time,” you answer truthfully and you smile sadly.

You are relieved to see that when Cal trains his gaze back onto your face, his expression, while still sombre, is less feverish.

"How did you escape?"

"I commandeered a shuttle," you explain, then smirk, "Crashed it, of course. Into a field on Pelka-4."

"That sounds like you," Cal quips, and you are glad when the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"I was lucky. A family of farmers found me. They kept me safe, hidden while I healed. I stayed with them for a few years until I managed to find a Rebel cell to join. Been sticking it to the Empire ever since."

You suddenly realise that neither of you have spoken about your lives after the purge until now. You don't know anything about the last ten years of Cal's existence.

"What about you?" You ask.

"Ended up on Bracca," Cal says and he lifts the sleeve of his shirt to display a tattoo on the underside of his right forearm.

It's a worker identification tag and you feel a surge of sympathy for him. Force what a hard life for a kid.

"Scrapper," he continues, "Until, one day, I used the Force to save a friend from a fall. He died anyway when the Inquisitors came for me."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too..." Cal rubs the back of his neck as he continues, "I was working with a team including another Jedi for a while. It's complicated, but we went our separate ways and I've been part of Saw Guerra's operation since."

"You're working for Saw Gerrera?"

"I'm working with Saw Gerrera."

You both look at each other and burst into laughter, knowing that the formidable Rebel warlord himself certainly wouldn't see it that way.

"What does Gerrera want with a Spori data archive?"

"He doesn't," Cal says, "but intel picked up a lot of Imperial activity in the area and I knew that's what they were after. I wanted to take it out the game before they could get to it."

You take the Spori data sphere out of your knapsack again and hold it out towards Cal in your open hand.

"What do we do with it now?"

Cal reaches out and closes your palm around the device.

"If you have somewhere safe for it," he says, his emerald gaze earnest, his voice low and sincere, "You get it there."

************************************

Cal doesn't need to wonder if he's made the right decision in suggesting you take custody of the Spori archive. He's not ready to visit Cere on Jedha, and Saw Gerrera's numerous bases of operations are constantly at risk of Imperial attack. Smaller cells, like yours, are easier to hide, easier to move. More than that, he trusts you completely to keep the sphere safe.

Even as a child, you were the most capable, determined, head-strong person he's ever met. Nothing's changed. You still make him laugh until he cries and he can't believe quite how much he's missed being relentlessly teased by you.

Having you near him again is enchanting. He feels drawn to you, like the invisible chord that has tied you together all of your lives has suddenly been pulled taut and you are being pulled inexorably towards each other.

Despite the circumstances you find yourselves in, Cal is happier with you down here in the dark with you than he's been in years.

And it really is dark down here. And damp. And cold. Squeezing through the Spori service tunnels which seem to be in more and more disrepair the further you go, it is as if there are unnamed things skittering about in the blackness.

Cal tries to put this down to the loose pebbles and stones you both kick up as you make your way through the ruined passageways, but he's not convinced.

He doesn't much like small spaces, but as you make progress down the increasingly narrowing passage in front of him, BD-1 on your shoulder lighting the way, Cal can feel your panic rising in the Force.

He suddenly remembers that you are severely claustrophobic and he scolds himself for forgetting. How could he not remember the night he sat up for hours holding your trembling hand in the Jedi Temple's med bay after your experience on Ilum.

Master Yoda had taken you and Cal with your peers to the ice planet for the ceremonial Gathering, the traditional rite of passage where young Padawans explore the great ice caves to source the kyber crystals with which to construct their lightsabers.

The ritual was always somewhat dangerous, but you'd had a particularly fraught time, falling down an ice crevasse and almost getting stuck between the tightly packed sheets of ice. You were forced to crawl and squeeze your way out in the dark all alone.

You were hours later than everybody else. Cal remembers how he came the closest he'd ever been to disobedient, sneaking away from the pack of Padawans and Master Yoda himself who were waiting by the transport ship outside the caves for your return.

Determined to try and find you himself, Cal made it halfway to the entrance unseen - or so he liked to think - when you finally emerged from the caves, hunched over and limping, but your kyber crystal firmly in hand.

The Jedi Council had been impressed with your perseverance and bravery, but Cal had never quite forgiven them for allowing you to suffer like that.

"This is only getting narrower, Cal," you say, jolting him out of his memories. He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, "Maybe we should go back."

BD-1 lets out a little boop which is almost a scoffing sound.

"It's ok for you, buddy," Cal reminds him patiently, "You're very small."

He hears the droid trill a bashful apology in your ear.

"That's ok, BD-1," you say and the genuine warmth in your voice makes Cal smile. You always had a weakness for cute droids, even when they were cheeky.

"Kriff," you swear softly in front of him as you come to a halt so abrupt he almost crashes into you.

In the dim light, Cal can see that part of the tunnel has collapsed. He watches as BD-1 hops off your back, and scurries into the small opening on the ground. Glad of something to do, the droid proudly scans the terrain and projects the way ahead. It's not blocked and it's not far, but it'll be tight. You'll have to crawl.

Cal places a hand on your shoulder and has to resist the urge to recoil as your fear arcs through the Force and passes through his own body so acutely that it feels like a bolt of electricity.

"I'll go first," he says.

The narrow corridor is barely wide enough for two people. You press yourself as flat as you can against the damp stone wall so that Cal can squeeze past. He raises his arms and rests his palms against the rock either side of your head for balance as he steps cautiously in between and around your feet and legs.

It's intimate, almost awkwardly so. Cal hopes you don't notice the blush he can feel creeping up his neck as he is forced to press his body into yours as he climbs over you. He looks down into your eyes as he passes, raising his eyebrows and tilting his chin upwards in mock flirtation in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He is relieved when you giggle and jab him playfully in the ribs. He can't help but notice that your cheeks have turned a rather fetching shade of pink, no doubt mirroring his own, as BD's torch lamp passes over your face.

Something inside him glows as he realises you feel it too - the ember of something new between you smouldering into life as your shared past collides with the present.

But now, he needs to concentrate. Reluctantly, he brushes aside the giddy feeling you've awakened within him and he reaches into the Force. He inhales then exhales deeply, slowing his racing heart as he focuses on the task in hand. Then, following BD-1's lead, he crouches down and crawls head first into the gap in the stone work.

*************************************************

If your lungs didn't feel so constricted, so full of dust and musty, cloying air, you'd probably scream. When you'd squeezed yourself into the collapsed passageway after Cal, at first you'd been able to crawl on your hands and knees. That was almost tolerable but now... Now you are now flat on your stomach, making painstaking progress by clutching at the rough, stony ground in front of you with your fingers and pulling yourself along like some undead creature in a horror holo novel.

You try to ground yourself in the Force, but just like when you were a child, your panic has severed your connection to it, cut you off from it, leaving you adrift in the painful void of its absence.

Suddenly, you hear the scrabbling of Cal's body and boots against the ground ahead. Before you can register what's happening you are plummeted into darkness, BD-1's headlamp extinguishing without warning.

Oh Force, they've fallen down some crack in the ancient structure, plummeting into oblivion where the earth has swallowed them whole and now you're stuck here in the dark alone with no way forward and no chance of turning around...

The sharp, solid ice - no, this isn't Ilum - rock bites through your clothing, stony shards pressing into your body as your chest expands with your panicked breathing.

"Cal?" You gasp out, then, in a shout that's almost a scream, "Cal?!"

Abruptly, your eyes are assaulted with a white light so bright it dazzles you. You jump and hit your head painfully on the stone ceiling above you. A pair of hands, Cal's hands you realise, reach through the blinding light of BD's torch and you snatch at them wildly as if he might withdraw them and leave you there alone in the dark.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. With ease, he pulls you gently through the last little length of the tunnel and up onto your feet where you emerge gasping and wheezing as if you've been held under water.

You throw your arms around Cal's neck in relief, launching yourself at him with such force that he staggers backwards. Once he's regained his footing, he places a hand at the small of your back, drawing you close to him and cradles your head to his chest with the other. His heart beats out a sonorous, steady rhythm and resonates through your own body, slowing your breathing and calming your rattled nerves.

Funny, you always used to be the one to comfort him when you were children.

"I've got you," he whispers gently into your ear, "I've got you."

A passing thought that maybe you should be embarrassed for allowing your fear to overwhelm you like this is discarded almost immediately as Cal places a soft kiss gently on the top of your head.

A feeling of warmth rushes through you. You suddenly realise how safe you feel with him as you press into the warmth of his strong, solid body. You breathe in his old familiar smell which has a new, heady quality to it like clean leather mixed with the oddly pleasant scent of his physical exertions.

"Sorry..." you mumble, finally, into his chest, hoping he can't feel where your panicked tears have rolled unbidden down your cheeks and soaked into the fabric of his shirt, "I was thinking about..."

"Ilum," Cal finishes for you, "I know."

"You remember?" you say, pulling back to look at him.

He smiles kindly.

"I remember."

You shiver. Is it the memory of that icy planet that still chills your bones? No, you decide, it really is cold in here. Although, you realise, the air feels and smells different somehow. Fresher. Sweeter.

Reluctantly, you extricate yourself from Cal's arms and take a look around the Spori chamber you've just put yourself through hell to get to.

Except...you're not in a chamber at all. You're not even inside.

You look upwards and see stars twinkling above you, a million points of light in the darkness. Around you, the roofless, crumbling remains of the Spori Temple stretch raggedly into the inky sky like skeletal fingers.

You think back to when you'd studied the climate of planet and the geographical position of the Temple before setting off on your mission. The ancient structure would certainly be exposed to harsh winds on this northern side, especially in the formidable Spori winter. This part of the Temple has simply not weathered the ravages of time.

In the twilight, you take in the shadowy treeline of a great forest which lays across a meadow of high, fragrant grass which sways gently in the breeze. The tops of far away mountains are illuminated by the ethereal blue light of Spori's twin moons. The natural beauty of the place is magical.

You fill your lungs with beautiful, clean air. You can breathe again. You let out a joyful whoop, throwing your head back and laughing, stretching your hands up into the night sky and spinning round and round in the glorious open landscape.

When you finally stop, you notice that Cal is watching you with an expression of pure delight.

"We did it!" You say breathlessly, coming to rest in front of him and he laughs.

BD-1 hops from foot to foot in front of you, wanting to join in your celebration. You crouch down and scoop the little droid into a tight embrace where he purrs like a Loth cat. After a minute, he hops out of your arms and across to his usual spot on Cal's shoulder.

Cal's face is covered in dirt which runs in dark streaks down his cheeks where rivulets of sweat have trickled their path. You imagine you look similar. Automatically, you reach up and rub at the patch of grime caked above his left eyebrow with your thumb.

Cal brings his hand up to rest against yours as he leans into your touch. His expression is soft and there is a longing in his face so intense that he almost looks lost. You burn with a sudden yearning for him as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips.

Something chirps, breaking the spell. Cal reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small data pad.

"The Mantis can pick us up here in the morning," he says, inserting coordinates into the device and transmitting them to his crew, "We can drop you back wherever you need to be if you want a ride?"

Your heart sinks and you can tell by Cal's regretful expression that your face has fallen with it. In your euphoria, you'd almost forgotten that your reunion was probably only temporary.

Cal looks crestfallen by your reaction and you know he must realise that, however unintended, the abrupt shift in tone would have seemed callous to you. You can tell that he is searching for the words to repair the damage - he still has this need to say the right thing.

But it's too late.

"Sure," you reply, and you hate the coldness in your tone.

****************************************

Cal is lying on his side in the grass, somewhat sheltered in the corner of the part of the ruin you'd chosen for your camp. It's little more than a cluster of decaying stones, but it's better than nothing and it keeps the wind at bay. You've built a fire for warmth and placed yourselves at either side of it.

As Cal studies your peaceful face through the leaping, crackling flames, he smiles to himself. You look so beautiful to him, as you always had. Even on your worst days when your temper or your hard-headedness won out, he'd always likened you to a force of nature - a tempest or a forest fire. Something elemental.

The thought of going through another separation from you is unbearable. He curses his thoughtlessness earlier. He was certain that he had just about plucked up the courage to kiss you. Sensing your own feelings through the Force, he was almost sure that you wouldn't have rejected him and he'd certainly been willing to take that chance.

Wallowing in self-pity for this missed opportunity made it impossible to even think about sleep. If only that blasted device hadn't interrupted the moment.

And besides all that inner turmoil, Cal's teeth are chattering so loud in his skull that he's certain they could wake the dead, never mind himself. While softer than the solid rock that had been serving as his bedding recently, the turf beneath him is damp and the chill is seeping through his clothing and into his skin. He is so uncomfortable.

"Cal?"

Just as his eyelids start to droop, he hears you speak his name in a soft, sleepy voice. When he looks across at you, you are sitting up, the firelight dancing across the bright, glassy orbs of your eyes, your hair wild.

Force you look ethereal.

"Are you cold?" You ask.

"Freezing," Cal admits.

"Me too," you pause before saying in a hushed tone that makes Cal's stomach flip, "Come here."

He hesitates for a moment before he does as as he's bid, standing and making his way over to you. Wordlessly, you reach up to him and he takes you hand in his as you guide him to lie at your back and return to your position on your side. He feels a heady thrill when you press yourself into him as he curls his body around your smaller frame.

Cal laces one arm underneath you while the other wraps around your waist, holding you flush against him. You clasp the hand the hand that rests against your stomach in your own. Cal wonders if you can feel his heart slamming against his chest.

"I've missed you," he hears himself blurt out suddenly and he curses inwardly, feeling stupid.

But the temporary embarrassment fades quickly and is replaced by certainty and desire as you bring his hand up to your mouth and trace a trail of kisses across his knuckles with your soft lips.

"I can't lose you again," he continues ardently, "I can't."

Cal brushes a strand of stray hair away from your ear, as if that might allow you to heed his words more clearly.

"You won't," you say firmly, and a new sense of hope blooms inside him for the first time in a long time.

You twist towards him and onto your back, propping yourself up on your elbows to look up into his open, sincere face. Unable to resist any longer, Cal places a hand at the nape of your neck and draws you up into a deep, passionate kiss. His heart sings as your hands fly up to twist in his hair as you move your lips urgently against his.

As you embrace, Cal feels your familiar presence in the Force blossom with something new, something which glows incandescent like a beacon guiding him towards you and only you. Suddenly, every nerve in his body is on fire and, as you move together, he feels as if you are two flames blazing through the very heart of the Galaxy itself.

Only in his dreams did he ever imagine that he would see you again after that awful day on the Venator so long ago. Now, as you lie down together beneath the stars amid the mysterious ruins of the Spori Temple, Cal Kestis promises himself that whatever the future holds, he'll never let you go again.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis fanfiction

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dreamer-oriented-express-1 · 9 days

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Cal is ENROLLED at MY College, Littlerock Technical School!

(Using a fake College name for security reasons! Again!)

(Sequel to my first Reality Imagine!)

(What IF I meet Cal Kestis again, but this time we’re older and we’re in college!)

(Just made this last year…wanting to share it of course!)

(KINDA LONG!)

Rating: G for…LOTS OF FLUFF!

I was dreading for this day to arrive. Apparently, for one of my classes, I am forced to go to campus to take this Biology survey of some kind. Even though doing it at home seemed more appropriate, my professor can be very annoying sometimes. I already have my ID badge with me as I step out of the car. I close the door, waving bye to my dad as I watch him drive off. I vaguely remember what my professor had told us in the email she sent a few days ago. I think we had to go to room 143 in building K. I wasn’t counting on it but I pushed all that aside as I marched my way to the front doors of the main campus building. In the main lobby sit two women, having the jobs of being receptionists. I go up, smiling shyly as one of the women notices me and smile back. “Hi! How can I help you?”, I boomeranged the same greeting. “Do you know where room 143 is?”, I see the woman point to the doors behind me. “That is at building D…across the way from here…”, “Thank you…”, “You’re welcome!”, I left out of there, making my way to the building of building D. Along the way, I see a good amount of people outside, especially in the courtyard that I just walked by. I enter the building seeing the room numbers start in the 130s. I walk up these stairs and come upon room numbers that start in the 140s. I walk just a little further to come upon room 143! I enter the room, seeing my fellow classmates and familiar faces I only seen on screen waiting around. Just as I took a seat, the professor walks, greeting everyone with her smile. “Hi everyone! Good morning! I know this may seems out of context for a lot of you, but I would just like to see personally on how your results are on the Biology survey…so please, follow me…”, Everyone gets up at the same time as I take a look to the see the professor leave the room.

We follow her to the computer lab, with people taking their seats. I took my seat, seeing a log in screen displayed on the monitor. Thank goodness I packed my password book with me! “Okay, now, I want everyone to log on and log into our class website, and we’ll go from there…”, I hear everyone type away on their computers as I type away on mines.

*TIMESKIP*

After what seemed like forever, I had finally took that Biology survey! The professor told us this was the only time we would be called to campus. Everything else is back online. I am just exiting the building, walking down this pathway when I notice a familiar guy sitting at this table by himself. Red-gingery hair, lean muscular body, casual dressing. That can’t be. I walk over, each step feeling heavier than the last. Just as I gotten near, the guy swiftly turns around, like as if he was expecting me. He smiles a smug smile. “Stalking’s rude…”, My eyes widen, not believing at who I was looking at. It was Cal Kestis—from Golden Serria High School. “Cal? Is that you?”, I had to asl, still not knowing if it was him or not. The beard he’s currently growing was throwing me off. Cal’s smile widens as he stands to his feet to face me. “Yeah…hey Lauryn!”, Not sure how or why, but I felt butterflies when he said my name. “Wha-what are you doing h-here?”, I stuttered slightly, seeing Cal was taking in amusement of how surprised I was being here right now.

“You know me, just doing college stuff…you?”, I nod in response, gesturing out my arms. “I’m doing college stuff too…I’m actually chasing a degree that deals with office stuff…”, Cal raises his brows slightly. “Really! Huh…well, hopefully you get your degree…I’m rooting for you…”, I smile, feeling shy as I look to the ground for a moment before looking back at him. “Thanks…are you by chance chasing anything?”, Cal rubs his neck in a nervous manner as he sits back down on the bench of the table. “Just a certificate in Welding…it’s nothin’ special…”, “Cool! You’ll be done in no time…”, Cal looks up to me, smiling widely. “Heh…yeah…true that…are you about to leave?”, I look behind to see some people from my class were walking to the special parking deck Littlerock Technical School had built recently. “I mean…kinda…I’m about to call my parents actually for them to come pick me up…my dad to be exact…”, Cal stands up from the table, grabbing a hold of his bag laying near his feet.

“Well, I can take you home…if you want me to…”, Now I feel my heart start to race. Take me? Home? In a car? My parents will freak the second that they hear I’m coming home in a stranger’s car! Not that Cal’s a stranger. I look to him, scrunching my eyebrows at him. “What, you drive or something?”, Cal takes out his keys from inside his bag, jiggling them in front of me. I can’t help but smile faintly. “Hmm—can you show me…?”, “Sure, follow me…”, Cal starts to walk on ahead, with me following after him, all the way to the parking deck. He takes out his ID card as I take out mine as well to show the guard lady as she had let us through. Cal takes hold of his keys, pressing on this button to make his car unlock, with the car making a beeping sound. I stand in front of it, noticing it was a black Jeep crossroad mix. I stand there to watch Cal open the door to toss his bag inside. He quickly closes it as he comes up to me, seeing I was in a trance. He helps by knocking me out of it, nudging my arm, with my face feeling like it’s on fire.

“You gonna call your parents or what?”, “Oh! Yeah! That! Sorry…”, I quickly take out my phone, calling my mom to see if she would pick up. A few rings in my ear and she does. After the mildly irritating conversation I had with her, she becomes forthright and allows me to come home in a “familiar friend’s” car. And of course, she tells me this will be only a one-time thing. I hang up and shove my phone back into my pocket, turning around to face Cal, who had a worried look on his face the whole time. “So? What did she say?”, “She said it’s okay!”, “Alright! Let’s go…”, Cal goes to the driver’s side, hopping in as I follow after, into the passenger’s side. Just as he starts the engine, my heart starts to race a little again. I look over to Cal, who was so seemingly calm. I haven’t seen Cal in YEARS, and this is how he repays me—by taking me home. During the drive, I couldn’t take my eyes off his new haircut. “I see you trimmed your head a little…”, I see Cal stopped at this red light we came upon as he quickly combs through his hair. “Do you like it?”, “Of course! Yeah! It suits you!”, I couldn’t help but laugh at my own answer as Cal laughs along with me.

Going down the highway, I was keeping my eyes glued for the exit. At the halfway point, that’s when I noticed it. “Here! Turn here!”, Cal nods to me, making the turn. I glance around to see I was right for making that turn as I could see the side shops and the mall just down the road. I directed him a few more times until I noticed we were getting close to my home. Just pulling up and into the driveway, Cal takes out this piece of paper and hands it to me. “Here’s my number—so we’ll keep in touch…”, I calmly take it from him, trying to refrain myself from screaming. “Thanks…I’ll uh…try to text you when I can…”, Cal smiles as he exists the car, walks over to my side, and opens the door for me like a gentleman would. I step out, not helping myself as I hug on him around his neck. He was stiff for a moment, ut he was able to hug me back, around my middle. I release myself from him, smiling to him as I feel warmer than usual in my cheeks as Cal smiles back. He gets back into his Jeep mix, waving goodbye one last time as I watch him pull away and drive off, hoping I cross paths with him again. Someday!

The End!

As usual, leave a like if you did...❤️

#posting #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #my fanfic stuff #cal kestis fanfiction #cal kestis #imagine #sequel fic #star wars jedi survivor

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frost-queen · 1 year

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Hanging on tight (Reader x Cal Kestis)

Requested by: @val2557 Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex–awesome–22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Summary: You are Cal's girfriend and have social anxiety. When you go to a social gathering, Cal is there to help out.

Taking a deep breath it wasn’t enough to calm your nerves. Gripping on tight to the seat you sat on. Knees trembling anxiously the more you thought about. Biting your lip, a million disastrous thoughts crossed your mind. You barely noticed BD entering the room you were in. He bleeped loud, startling you. He tilted his head a bit to the side, tripling on his stands. You sighed deep. – “No I’m not that excited BD.” – you told him.

“I’m not sure about this… maybe… maybe I should just sit this one out?” – you suggested, pleading with the droid as if it was his call. There was a knock on the wall outside the room. Cal entering all smiley. He came leaning against the doorway, admiring you for a moment. His lovey dovey eyes making way for worriedness.

He noticed how uncomfortable you were. – “Y/n.” – he said stepping up to you. BD jumped aside when Cal came kneeling in front of you. – “Everything alright?” – he asked placing a caring hand on your trembling knee. With gentle pressure, he stopped it from shaking nervously. There was no lying to him, so you told him the truth.

“I…I…I shouldn’t come… I’m a walking disaster.” – you confessed, looking ashamed away. Cal curled up a warm smile, moving his hand over your knee to you hand, taking it. – “I don’t want you to worry.” – he told you.

“If you don’t feel like coming. I understand. I am not fond of those meetings too, but it is nice to know you are by my side. Yet!” – he concluded holding his finger up. – “That does not mean I am pressuring you. If you want to sit this one out, I am all for it if it makes you feel better.” – you smiled faintly at how caring he was. Always considering your feelings over his own.

You squeezed his hand to reassure him. – “I…I want to be there for you.” – you said, shoulders slouching. – “It is just… I’m afraid I’ll make it worse with my presence alone. I am not the best in conversating with people I don’t know.” – you reminded him even though he didn’t need reminding. – “I know, my star.” – he replied, tugging some hair behind your ear. It made you smile bashfully down. – “If you feel like falling, I’ll be there to hold you. I promise you I’m not letting go.” – he reassured you.

“You won’t be lonely as I’ll hold on tight to you, If you want to go to the restroom, too bad as I am clutched onto you.” – he said making you laugh loud. He always found a way to cheer you up and it worked. – “You’ll get bored of me.” – you teased. Cal looked dramatically shocked. – “Me? Bored of you? How could I when my love for you is so big.” – he opened his arms, making you quirk your brows. He fell forwards, strapping his arms around you.

You laughed loud feeling him tickle your side. Squirming under his grip. – “Cal…Cal stop!” – you called out laughing. He chuckled moving his hands up. He then pressed a deep kiss on your cheek. He helped you up, BD bleeping loud on the ground. – “Right about that BD!” – Cal called out proudly. You furrowed your brows. – “We aren’t letting you deal with this alone!” – he explained making you smile.

Moving your hand to his cheek, you left a kiss on his other cheek. Cal grinned from ear to ear. He took your hand, squeezing it tight. – “I’ll never let go.” – he whispered to you. BD hopped onto his back as he guided you further down the Mantis. Some of your anxiety had left your body which was good. Cere asked silently how things were. Cal winked at her, saying enough. Cere nodded following you to the entrance way of the Mantis.

The three of you got off, greeted by the fresh air. You swallowed nervously, squeezing his hand a bit more. – “I’m right here.” – he whispered to you, kissing you teasingly. Cere took the lead, Cal and you followed. You focused on the exterior to not be confronted with the brooding anxiety in you.

To calm your mind, you started to silently count the trees you spotted. Cal smiled hearing you softly mutter out the numbers. You were alright and that was what mattered. If you were not, he promised himself he’d get you out of there as soon as possible. Not caring what people would think of him or how rude he’d be. You were his priority now and always.

You came to a sudden stop at the entrance. The shadow of the building casted down on you. Slowly feeling the building stretch out while you grew smaller and smaller. Heart thumping louder against your chest. Cal brought your entangled hand up, whispering close to you. – “We can still run away if you like? I’ve heard there are many places to sneak off to.” – You slowly shook your head, knowing how important this was for Jedi’s all around the galaxy.

This was bigger than you. – “I follow you everywhere.” – you told him. Cal moved his shoulder up, a signal for BD to hop on your back. The reassurance of the droid close by made you ease a bit up. – “Don’t worry, BD will sting everyone who comes too close for your standards.” – he chuckled out. You nudged him for his glamorous humor.

Taking a deep breath, the two of you walked inside. Cere was waiting in the main hall, smiling at your presence. The moment you entered the room, your body stiffened. There were a lot more people then you anticipated. Cal noticed it, turning you away from them. Tilting your chin up by his thumb. – “Focus on me, only on me. We’ll stay right here and let those who want to come to us. No need to wander around and chat. We’ll stay right here.”

Flashed with love, you kissed him deeply on the lips. Arms wrapped around him. It surprised him for a moment as you practically jumped at him. He smiled against your lips before kissing you back. – “I love you Cal.” – you told him. – “I love you more Y/n.” – he replied, pressing your hand against his chest.

Cal distracted you by telling you vigorous wild stories, using his whole body to showcase it. It made you laugh, slowly easing up and forgetting about the people in the room with you. When someone would come to meet you because Cere brought them to Cal and you, he held your hand close.

Making sure you didn’t need to talk if you didn’t feel like it. Drawing the attention deliberately to him so they wouldn’t make you nervous. It made you feel so loved, you let your head lean against his shoulder, blessed to have such a caring Jedi boyfriend.

--------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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kindasleepywriter · 4 months

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An Unexpected Visit (Cal Kestis x Mechanic!Reader)

Summary: You find a little metal friend in your lonely workshop on Koboh and you have no idea where he came from. The answer to that question brings you more hope than you thought it would.

Warnings: Small blood mention.

Words: 3.8k

Note: Thought I'd post a little something while I work on the next few chapter of BoP! Pretty sure this is gender neutral, but if im wrong don't hesitate to point it out!!

Koboh was a hot planet to live on even on its coldest days. There was no such thing as frost here, and snow was out of the question. The native population of the planet was used to it, buildings designed to keep out the sweltering air and clothes made of the thinnest materials.

You, however, hated it.

You’d been warned the planet was warm, but no one had quite mentioned how high the temperature really was. You regretted trusting the Ihi Tib that had brought you here more than anything, but you’d used up all your credits on that trip and there was no way in hell to make that money again to leave, not while working here.

You longed for Habo, the little planet you’d decided against in favor of this one. No raiders, no empire soldiers, just nature and its shy inhabitants. No droids either, but there wasn’t any here either, so you didn’t care. Sometimes, you dreamt of reaching its lush forests and mountains and feeling cold drops of rain on your skin.

The metal roofing of your shop did you no good either, heat waves often visible above it. Its only room felt like a furnace even at the best of times, and you weren’t a stranger to the feeling of sweat-soaked clothes sticking to you uncomfortably anymore.

You tinkered with a metal detector that some prospector had brought to you, taking the opportunity of the night’s barely detectable coolness to work on a project. Apparently, it had stopped functioning properly after it’d been dropped into a chasm. By the looks of it, you were surprised it even was in one piece. Well, mostly in one piece. Maybe the revenue you’d make from this might be able to pay for new boot soles, yours having almost completely disintegrated because of the burning sand that covered the entire region.

The only sound in your workshop was the harsh grating of your screwdriver against the detector’s metal, as you tried to pry open its chassis. The thing just wouldn’t budge, and you considered whether the boots were even worth it.

A whistling sound startled you, the old screwdriver slipping and taking a chunk out of your palm. You swore and tugged a rare oil-free cloth from the toolbox beside you, hitting your head on your work lamp in the process and swearing again. You pressed the cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding and looked towards the open room to determine where the whistling had come from. The door to the shop was locked, you’d triple-checked it while closing. Was this one of the raider lackeys trying to draw you outside again? You’d fallen for it exactly once and promptly learned not to investigate strange noises you might hear outside, but this sounded like a mechanical whistle, not a breathing being.

The strange whistling sounded again, this time from behind you. You spun on your heels, tied the cloth around your hand, and reached for the rusty rebar you kept by your workstation. Nothing seemed amiss at first glance. Had you imagined the sound? Maybe the heat was getting to you, you hadn’t refilled your water canister since this morning. Dehydration hallucinations were rare for you, but you’d still had your fair share, especially when you’d just arrived to Koboh. Getting used to this planet had been a challenge.

Suddenly a flash of red and white crossed the room, hiding behind a wooden bin you used to store your own unfinished projects. The whistle came again, followed by a few beeps. A droid, you realized. He’d been speaking binary! You’d hardly recognized it, not having heard it since your arrival. Lots of droids, the Ihi Tib had assured you, the bastard.

“Hey little buddy, can I help you?” you called, slightly lowering the rebar but still holding it tightly with your free hand. A series of beeps followed in response. It was mostly unintelligible, but you could make out the meaning of some of it.

“Yeah, I’m the mechanic here, do you need something fixed?”

A scared whistle. You crouched, putting down the rebar at reaching distance from your hands.

“I’ve let go of the iron, I won’t hurt you as long as you don’t hurt me, deal?”

You received no response, but the droid tentatively stepped out from its hideout. It was a cute one, you thought, a little flat head and cubical body supported by its two lanky legs. You could see his eyes focusing and zooming on you, no doubt examining you for any sign of aggression. You raised your hands as a peace gesture, and he stepped closer. He emitted a green light from his position. You laughed at the sudden scan but didn’t move.

From up close, you could see the damage he carried. The side of his left leg was blackened as if burnt, and its small body had a gaping hole that revealed his inner components. No wonder he’d been scared, one more hit and he’d be fried. He looked mostly intact on the inside, but you’d need him in your hands to determine if that was the case. You went to speak but got cut off by the loud noise of your door slamming shut behind you.

“Beedee, I told you to wait while I left to find a spare-”

You squealed at the man’s voice, grabbing the piece of rebar again, wincing as it rubbed against your clothed palm, and jumped to your feet.

A man stood at the entrance of your shop, only a few feet from you. You shakily held up the rebar between the two of you as a threat, the droid incoherently beeping behind you and hitting you with his little leg. You ignored him, and the intruder raised his hands, showing you that they were empty. You could see a metal baton at his side and a pistol strapped to his thigh, but he wasn’t reaching for them despite the threat of your rebar.

“Whoa, easy,” he exclaimed rapidly, “I’m not here to attack you!”

“What do you want?” you called, “Shop’s closed at this hour.” It was fairly late in the night, and not many people were still up at this time apart from you. No one with good intentions, at least.

He took a less defensive stance, increasingly unimpressed at your choice of weapon, or your unsteady hold of it. “My name’s Cal, I’m just here for beedee.” He gestured to the droid. “Come on buddy, we’ve got to get back to Greez.”

The cantina’s owner?

“How do you know Greez?” you asked with narrowed eyes. You’d never seen this man, and he’d never been around here. News spread fast in a village this small, you would’ve heard about it in less than a day. The cantina sometimes welcomed suspicious or dangerous individuals, and you wondered if this new guy was one of them.

“It’s a… long story. I’m just visiting. Beedee, let’s go.”

You examined the man closer, as he was clearly only interested in the droid. Now that the adrenaline had mostly run its course, your mind pointed out how attractive the man was. Sure, his armor-looking leather garments looked like they had seen better days, but it was hard to ignore his soft-swept hair, scatter of freckles and sharp jawline that his stubble didn’t quite manage to hide, not to mention his lean yet muscled build.

The droid, beedee, didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he pushed into your leg again and emitted a series of noises you couldn’t understand.

“Is he always this unclear or is my binary just rusty?” you asked the man hesitantly, keeping the rebar in hand and taking a few steps back to put space in between the two of you.

“He got shot in the middle of a fight, his vocabulator got damaged,” he said. Your grip on the metal tightened. A fight? “I was going to fly to a relay point to find him a new one, but this guy,” he shot a reproachful look at the droid, “Won’t stay put long enough for me to go.”

The droid continued his monologue. The only word you could make out was ‘Mechanic’.

“I’m a mechanic, beedee, is that why you came to see me?”

He near-violently nodded his head.

“I’m sorry he disturbed you, like I said, we need the new component to fix it.” Cal said, shrugging.

You crouched and took a closer look. You could view the injured piece now, its main area intact but its outer edge clearly burnt out. You shook your head. “You don’t need a new one, actually.”

Cal looked at you like you’d grown a third head. “Have you seen the chip? That thing is as good as dead.”

“Not if you reroute the circuit towards his internal commlink instead.”

He blinked. “You’ve worked on droids before?” he asked cautiously.

You nodded. “It’s what I trained for as a teen on my home planet, but I had the great luck of finding a dishonest pilot who promised me there were a lot of droids here.” You gestured to your near empty workshop, embarrassed. “As you can see, not quite the reality of the area. The only ones here are those the raiders keep, and I’ve made it quite clear to them on multiple occasions that they could shove it. Being on their bad side isn’t the greatest, but at least I’m not helping them loot and kill people. Used to work on ships too and loved that, but those are also lacking here.”

He looked at you as if evaluating your body language. You weren’t exactly hard to read; you wore your emotions quite visibly. “Why haven’t you left?” he asked.

“A droid mechanic on a droid-less planet doesn’t exactly have the revenue to jump on a hyperspace voyage. Maybe in a couple years, but at this rate the raiders will have found any stash of money I could keep. Anyways! what I’m trying to say is I can fix beedee if you want.” The droid beeped approvingly from where he stood, jumping up and down in triumph.

Cal seemed to weigh the risks. You didn’t blame him, some unknown mechanic on a near empty outer rim planet didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you knew you could make the repairs easily.

“Alright,” he said defeatedly, “but if a single electrical filament is damaged, I’ll know, and you won’t get a cent.”

You shrugged, his threat not scaring you. The droid already had enough injuries as is, you weren’t planning on adding to them.

Beedee jumped up to the worktable you’d been working at earlier and you pushed aside the metal detector with a wince. The movement pulled on your palm painfully. The droid didn’t miss your reaction and pushed on your injured hand with a foot.

“Just a cut, little guy, nothing to worry about.” You said, perhaps unconvincingly. The screwdriver you’d used was a bit rusty, and you knew you should get a bacta patch to keep an infection from spreading, but you couldn’t afford one. You’d wash it out with water later and hope for the best.

The droid didn’t miss a beat at words and a little vial was suddenly flung up in the air. You didn’t manage to catch it, not having the reaction time you might have with more rest and water in you, but a calloused hand caught it before it could hit the ground. Cal stood next to you, offering the tube in an open hand

“A stim?” you exclaimed, picking it up and examining it, “I haven’t seen one of those in years, they cost a fortune.” You glanced towards Cal. “I’m not sure the cut warrants using one.” you added.

The man just folded his arms and leaned against the table. “If beedee says you need one, I wouldn’t argue, or else you’ll be arguing with him all night.” he said.

You mumbled a soft thank you as you injected the stim, your hands already feeling much better after only a few seconds. You took off the cloth and despite the dark red that coated your hand, the cut had all but disappeared, leaving only a thin pink line behind. You scrubbed the dry blood off as best you could and turned towards the droid again.

He sat in front of you, presenting his exposed wiring. You picked up your smallest welder and started working, self-conscious of your beat-up tools. You could feel Cal leaning in with each detailed movement you made, unquestionably watching the process to learn how to do it himself. You worked as diligently as you could despite your focus trailing occasionally to the man that held close to your side. The slight reprieve the night air provided seemed gone, his warmth seeping into your skin.

It wasn’t a complicated job, you just needed to reroute the processor to the commlink to translate the droid’s processes into clear binary code to then bypass the burnt translator located on the edge of the vocabulator. It was a trick that was specific to this type of vocabulator though, so it wasn’t a well-known process.

You finished with the rerouting, satisfied by the clear binary beedee could now emit as he properly introduced himself to you. And idea shot through you and you slipped out from Cal’s side to reach for your spare parts bin. You rummaged through it for a moment, the droid sending you a questioning whistle.

“Wait a minute! I know I’ve got it somewhere here…” you grumbled. “Ah-ah! Here it is.”

You held out a grey piece of thin durasteel as you sauntered back to the waiting duo, grabbing your heat gun along the way. “I think I can give you a temporary fix for your casing, let me just… There! It doesn’t match your colors, but it should do the trick.” You slid a newly shaped metal plate over the spot where the casing had melted away, grinning at its sturdiness. “This won’t fix it forever; I’d need a little more time to make an entirely new one and to make it the right color, but this should keep your components safe for a while!”

BD-1, as you now knew him, spun around in circles as he tried to check out his new part. You took out a small mirror from a drawer and held it up to him so he could see. He let out a string of excited beeps and whistles, repeatedly asking Cal to look at his ‘cool looking patch’. You glanced to the man on your side and discovered him watching you intently with a small smile. You felt your cheeks heating under his stare and scuttled back a few steps.

“Uhm, I hope this all works out until you’re able to find new parts, you guys! I could get started on a new custom permanent case too, so beedee doesn’t lose his usual flair.” BD-1 whistled in approval. “Shouldn’t take me more than a few days, maybe 5 at most, if you’re interested.”

Cal nodded, his intense gaze not faltering. “I think that’d be perfect. How much for today’s work?”

“Oh no, consider it as a repayment for that stim and for the opportunity to work on a droid again. Honestly, I had forgotten how much more interesting it is than working on the prospectors’ tools. As for the pickup, if I’m not here when you come back to get it, that means I’ve gone out to trade for parts. I’ll leave the finished casing in this drawer here,” you pointed to the right one, “and you seem to know how to get past the locks. Just close it back up when you leave!”

He laughed at the remark and thanked you for your work on BD-1. The droid gave you a sharp farewell whistle despite its clear disappointment at having to leave already. He climbed onto Cal’s back as the man moved toward your shop’s door.

“Hey,” you called, “if you come around this corner of the galaxy again after picking up beedee’s casing, don’t hesitate to swing by! It’s always nice seeing someone new.”

He turned on his feet, walking backwards for a few steps. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other again, don’t worry.” He winked at you, leaving you at a loss for words, and turned back to walk through the door.

After you calmed your elevated heartbeat, you locked up after him, deciding the two unexpected guests were enough for one night. You leaned back against the door and sighed. Maybe you should’ve accepted the money. Cal seemed like a nice guy, but Koboh was getting harder every day. Habo was still on your mind, but you’d settle for anything other than this damn planet. Kriff, you’d even be willing to join a crew of wandering space pirates if that meant you actually got to do something other than retrieve and fix the same old tools over and over again. Maybe one day luck would favor you, you thought, or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

-- 9 days later ---

The walk back from trading was always exhausting. The prospectors that held the best materials were currently residing on a high cliff that hid a cave’s opening. Getting up there was arduous, but if you left early enough it was manageable despite the climbing you had to do. By the time you made the trek back, however, there was no escaping the sun’s rays, and the only thing keeping your hands from the burning rocks as you scaled down the cliff was an almost ruined pair of leather gloves. They wouldn’t last another climb, you thought, and neither would your boots.

You’d have to find something to barter with the one villager who made most of the prospectors’ equipment. You didn’t even have money for food this week, but you’d make do, like you always did. Maybe you’d go back to the cantina tonight to offer maintenance on Greez’s bartender droid. His cantina was apparently bringing in more customers this week, so maybe you could find some other work there too.

You were also looking forward to hearing more of the village gossip. You’d heard rumors of a Jedi taking down raiders all over the region when you’d gone for a drink the night before but given that the source of that information was Turgle, you were far from convinced. A Jedi would be hunted down in a minute by the Empire, especially if they used their famed weapon and left witnesses. The fisherman you sometimes saw hanging around the streams, Skoova, had however confirmed that there was indeed a newcomer hunting down raiders for sport.

He hadn’t been very talkative, only describing him as a short-haired man of average height that fought in a poncho. You didn’t know how you felt about someone wearing a poncho on a desert planet, though you did find humor at the idea of the raiders getting their ass kicked by some new guy in a raincoat. Either way, if there was a chance that this not-a-Jedi-even-though-Turgle-says-he-is guy had arrived here by ship, you wanted to find out more no matter his unusual taste in clothing.

You entered your workshop after the long walk back from the prospectors, bracing for the intolerable heat of your metal cage. You stored what little you’d brought back in its rightful place and dragged your feet to your worktable, ready to start working on another tool a prospector had given you to fix. You remembered distantly that Cal still hadn’t swung by to pick up BD-1’s new case.

You peeked inside the drawer and found it empty of the custom case. There were a few credits in there, thankfully enough to cover the material you’d used for the case, plus a couple more. Despite the much-needed money, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Of course, the one day you left your workshop had to be the one when he decided to come here. You sighed and pushed the drawer away, rubbing your eyes with your palms, hoping (and doubting) that he would visit again. You didn’t even know what region of Koboh he was from, you didn’t recognize his accent at all.

A glimpse of white caught your eye before the drawer shut completely. You reached towards the unknown object and found a folded note that you were sure hadn’t been in therebefore you left. You opened it and didn’t immediately recognize the handwriting.

Thank you for the case, BD-1 is practically begging for a couple more designs (to match my ‘rizz’ - I have no idea what that means. He convinced me to wear an old grey poncho I had just so we matched and I fear giving in to the different colored cases will be the start of a slippery slope, but how could I say no to the little guy?)

I’ve gone off-track – What I mean to tell you is that if you still want to leave Koboh, there will be a ship (it’s mine) at the landing pad until 1500 tomorrow. Bring what you need, but I have all the essentials on board. Food and water I mean, and maybe I have a spare toothbrush somewhere too?

Anyway. We’ll figure it out.

I can drop you off somewhere if you want, but I wouldn’t mind a mechanic on board if you’re interested. Can’t guarantee regular hours or absolute safety but hey, still more interesting than metal detectors, right?

This might be my last visit to Koboh in a while.

P.S.: BD-1 wants you to know you’re the only one allowed to fix his leg, and that he ‘requires you on board’. His words, not mine. He shot an electric dart at the last person who tried to repair it (me).

Cal

You couldn’t help but let out a loud celebratory shout as you read. He had a ship, and you were finally getting out of here! No more prospectors whining at the time it took to fix their tools, no bedlam raiders trying to kick through your door in the middle of the night, no need to refill your water supply from the well that stood well over a mile away.

You’d happily make BD-1 a thousand little metal outfits to match Cal’s ponchos if he wanted-

Your mind screeched to a stop. Hadn't that been the outfit Skoova mentioned?

You remembered what Turgle said about the second newcomer, the one he had called a Jedi. You didn’t remember ever reading about that order using guns, but… Cal had been carrying another weapon. The metal handle, you now realized, that was hanging at his side.

Oh kriff.

Had the idea while building the BD-1 Lego set. I meant for this to be just a little 1k meet-cute oneshot, Of course, me being me, i wrote 5k. Edited it a little, and it's as short as I can tolerate lmao

My first time posting for Star Wars! Still not over Survivor despite having played it more than 100 hour in the first two weeks i got it, and having done reruns since. The double-bladed stance has me in a chokehold.

Tell me what you think, and check out my masterlist!

#Cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #cal kestis x you #jedi survivor #jedi fallen order #jedi video games #star wars jedi #star wars #fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 11 months

Note

the way i need enemies to lovers smut with cal where reader is a sith lord and gets hurt but cal being the good man that he is, takes her back to his place and things happen yk 😰

i love this so much and I hope it's alright that I changed the prompt a teensy bit. instead of being sith, reader is just a darkside-user more generally. also gender neutral. thank you so much for the request!

Balance (Cal Kestis x reader)

Summary: You encounter Cal Kestis a few too many times, and you can't explain the way that the Force seems to be conspiring to put you two together in a room.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors DNI; gn!reader; inappropriate use of the Force; reader is a darkside user and honestly doesn't know how fucked they are; semi-graphic injuries; porn with plot; toxic relationship lowkey; blowjob; mutual masturbation (sort of); penetrative sex; unprotected sex (pls be safe irl y'all); if I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 12,765 my hand slipped

The first time you encounter Cal Kestis, you nearly kill him.

You’d heard the rumors, of course, whispered with bright eyes and furtive expressions in shithole Outer Rim cantinas of a flame-headed being cutting down Inquisitors and Imperials. When you first overheard a snippet of the tall tale, you’d nearly choked on your cheap spotchka. Right, you remember thinking, a fiery figure opposing the Empire. Did they run out of good gossip today?

Most rumors have at least a kernel of truth at their centers, and you figured it was the same with this one. And besides, you are indifferent to the Empire, at best; you’ve been avoiding their attention as much as you can, but you suspect that the thick cloak of the darkside you wear like a mantle has kept most of the Inquisitorius oblivious. They’re looking for Jedi, who cannot resist continuing to do good in a galaxy rotted to its core, and you stopped being a Jedi long before the Empire rose to power. They probably pay no mind to one lone figure who straddles the line of light and dark, temptation and virtue.

But that doesn’t mean Jedi pay no mind to you. Most of them, you can avoid; you fight when necessary. Currently, you’re thinking a fight might just be necessary. You’re on some planet you’ve already forgotten the name of, densely populated and urban. You stand with one foot propped on the edge of a rooftop, neon lights glimmering on wet permacrete. Rain drizzles in a fine mist. You gaze placidly across the gap to the next building—to the flame-headed being. Without even needing to try, you feel his Force signature: he burns in the Force, even as he tries to hide it. His coppery hair ruffles in the slight breeze, stubble darkening his face.

With a steadying breath, you tilt your head to one side. “Got a name, friend?”

“Not one you need to know,” he calls back. His posture is loose, casual, but you sense the whipcord tension in his Force aura; he’s on the alert.

As he probably should be.

“If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?” You offer him a disarming smile. “Seems only fair, right? Equitable partnership.”

He snorts. “There’s no partnership.”

“Fine,” you huff. You tell him your name anyways, and he mouths it silently, but none of that tension dissipates. You take the moment to appraise him a little more closely: lean body, self-assured slant of his shoulders, faded burn scar cut across his face. Heat licks up your spine.

“Cal,” he eventually says. “Cal Kestis.”

You smile wide at his honeyed voice. “Nice to meet you, Cal Kestis. Mind moving out of the way so I can continue on my merry way?”

“Afraid I can’t do that,” he says, but there’s no trace of regret in that gorgeous voice, only immense exhaustion.

Your saber hilt twitches against your back as your hand flexes nearly out of habit. Taking another deep, cleansing breath, you shrug as if his answer means nothing. The dark tide of the Force surges through your body, tingling in your fingertips, sharpening the smoggy night air into fine detail. “Well, can’t say I didn’t ask nicely.”

And then you leap, going from a dead standstill to a flurry of action in the space of a heartbeat. As your unstable crimson blade screeches to life, bathing the rooftops in flickering light, an answering snap-hiss echoes around you. Blue beam clashes with red, showering sparks over both of you.

Oh, he’s strong, and for some reason that makes your skin flush. You bare your teeth in a mockery of a smile and shove. He staggers back, feet slipping for a moment in the gravel surface of the rooftop, before he recovers.

“I’ll give you this one chance to stand down,” he says, voice thick and low and oh how it makes you shiver. His eyes glint in the blue light of his saber.

“Funny,” you snap, “I was just going to say the same to you.”

A frown tugs at his mouth. Lowering into a defensive stance, his eyes never leave yours as you languidly swing your saber in a half circle around you, content to draw this out. You’ve killed your number of Jedi in the name of self-preservation—necessary sacrifices to ensure the continued balance of Light and Dark—but there’s something about the way his green eyes harden into sharp gems the longer you twirl your blade, the casual power in his veined forearms, the absolutely pure gold energy he radiates in the Force.

With an aggravated shake of your head, you press the attack. Overhead, backhand, thrust, thrust, parry—you and Cal settle into a dangerous dance. Bright light bursts where your sabers connect, sparks skittering across the gravel. For anyone watching nearby, the pair of you probably look like blurs of red and blue light—another light fixture among this technicolor urban landscape.

But for anyone skilled in the Force, the radiance of your sabers dims in comparison to the pillars of energy you both become. One golden and bright as a thousand suns, shot through with faint tendrils of inky blackness; one glowing in shadow, a black hole ringed by its event horizon, smears of golden light.

Both the light and the dark are present in this fight, and you smile grimly. In all things, balance, as your master used to say.

The memory is a distraction, and Cal manages to break through your guard and punch your nose. Searing pressure spikes through your head, warmth dribbling down your face.

You merely grin at him with blood-covered lips. “You’ll have to do better than that, Kestis.”

And again the two of you become a flurry of attacks, parries, counterattacks, feints. In the distance, the low drone of a police siren reverberates off the tall glass buildings of the downtown area. You’ve been spotted. Time to end this now.

You make a show of appearing to be tiring, breathing coming in heavy gasps, your saber still meeting Cal’s in time to stop him from separating your limbs from your body, but just a fraction slower than what you’d begun with. And you give ground. Just a half step at first, and then several steps. Cal seizes the opportunity to push you back, force you into submission, gain the upperhand—

Not knowing he’d lost this fight the moment he’d placed himself in your path.

The Force is with you. In the Force, your arms seem to glow with terrible, purple-black ultraviolet power as you surrender yourself to its currents. There is no longer you and your saber; your saber is you. There is no longer you and Cal Kestis; there is you and the last piece of yourself that you’re willing to atrophy. Veins of golden Light criss-cross under your darkly shining skin—and as you stand firm once again with your back to the low roof edge, you will those golden veins to flush, to swell. You’re going to triumph here, and it’ll be with the approval of the full Force.

Cal’s face gleams with sweat, his brow furrowed, delicious mouth curved down in a frown. You lick your lips.

“Yield, Kestis,” you say. One last chance.

He just grunts, and in a blur of motion, separates the hilt of his saber. Another beam of blue snaps to life. Fear flares in you for a moment—but the Force remains with you, and you let the emotion siphon into your cracked, bleeding kyber. Plasma spits off the sides of your blade as you block attack after attack after attack; you’re an infinite well of patience—but that siren is getting closer, and you know that time, unlike your patience, is of the essence.

In a flash of inspiration, you reverse your grip on your hilt mid-parry, then swipe the angry blade out and up. A cry of pain, and one of the blue sabers retracts as the hilt clatters to the gravel. Cal stumbles back, cradling his left arm to his chest, his remaining saber held in front of him.

You can’t help the surge of pleasure at besting your opponent, even temporarily. As you twirl your saber again, a spotlight suddenly beams down on the two of you. With a grimace, you swing the saber down towards the soft juncture of Cal’s neck where it meets his shoulder—

And freeze when you catch a glimpse of the calm, resigned look in his eyes. Your blade hovers mere centimeters off his skin.

Amid the roar of hovercraft, the police siren, and the rushing of blood in your ears, he murmurs your name.

“Kark it all,” you spit. Gathering the Force within you, you shove him back. A shout of surprise, a flash of blue, and then he’s tumbling over the edge of the building. You retract your blade and dash in the opposite direction without a second thought.

Your master had always been honest with you about how little he, or anyone, truly knew about the mysteries of the Force. During your years as a padawan, you spent countless hours in meditation chambers deep below the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, feeling the constant ebb and flow of the Force around you. The first time he brought you there, your master explained in hushed tones how the temple had been built millennia ago over an old Sith temple. The Force resided in a nexus point there; streams of energy flowed from all over the galaxy and converged—and then diverged—from the temple.

Sitting in meditation now, you breathe deeply and steadily as the memory crests over you.

“But, Master,” you asked, “if the temple used to be a Sith stronghold, doesn’t that mean the dark side of the Force is strong here, too?”

His kind, patient eyes crinkled as he smiled. “That is right, my Padawan. In all things, there must be balance. Light and dark only exist because of each other.”

A frown tugged at your lips at that, and you cocked your head to the side. “But aren’t we supposed to resist the darkness?”

“Yes,” he said. “The darkness is an overbalance—an overabundance—of emotions, passions, fears. The Sith, and all who use the dark side, manipulate the Force to their will, instead of letting their emotions, like the Force, flow through them.”

Something about that didn’t feel right. “But—”

Your master held up one hand, forestalling the line of questioning you were about to launch into. He stepped through a large, arched doorway into a dim, echoing room. “Come, Padawan. Perhaps meditating will provide the answers you seek.”

You inhale slowly and open your eyes, squinting against the bright blue glare of the hyperspace lane. No matter how long or how hard you meditated under the temple, you grew no closer to an answer than by asking your master. Despite your frustration, you kept returning to the chambers below the Great Hall. The Force there was...comforting. Balanced. And yet, so infuriating in its mystery. You could feel both the light and the dark, and neither were good or bad. The Force just...was. Perhaps it was the long hours you spent in the tunnels and vast echoic chambers there that you developed your keen sense for the composition of the Force.

Standing, you groan softly at the ache in your knees. As you settle back into the thinly padded pilot’s seat, you massage at the joints, wondering just when you’d gotten old.

Probably when that droid shot through your master’s heart on Geonosis, and you’d physically felt the Force tip off-balance half a galaxy away, deep in meditation on Coruscant. The memory is painful, and digs its festering claws into your heart yet again.

The Council hadn’t even needed to tell you your master had perished in the opening salvo of the Clone Wars. The morning after his funeral, with both his and your sabers in your pack, you’d fled the temple.

The old fool, you think, slashing the memory of him from your awareness.

By now, you’re used to the pit of emotions yawning in your very essence. You hold onto your fears, your angers, your anxieties—but also your loves, your passions, your desires. Without even really thinking about it, you reach for the loose compartment that holds your master’s saber. Its duranium-plated hilt is slowly corroding, matching the slow degradation of yourself. The blade jumps to life with a snap-hiss. The green glow it casts is almost sickly, the blade bright, but thin and tremulous. It’s been weak since he died.

As you stare, eyes burning, into the flickering core of your master’s blade, you reach into the Force for the kyber at its heart. No matter how many times you brush against the crystal with your mind, you’re never prepared. A screech, unending and agonized and fearful, rends through your consciousness. For a moment, the green sputters, crimson taking its place.

You drop the saber, gasping. The hilt clatters to the floor and blade retracts, and you’re left again in the pressing silence of hyperspace.

In all things, balance, drift the words through you once again. Green against crimson. Crimson for blue. You think about Cal Kestis, his blinding presence; you think of your vacuous silhouette; and you take all the rage you can muster and twist it into your own heart like a dagger. The joists of your ship groan in response.

The second time you meet Cal Kestis, you almost wish you’d killed him all those years ago.

Just a few months after that first encounter on rain-slicked rooftops, you caught wind of a rumor that the flame-headed being attacked the Fortress Inquisitorius itself. This time, you didn’t discount the story, having witnessed first hand—for however short a time—the Force-empowered determination of that single human being. None of the rumors about Cal Kestis surprise you anymore.

But you routinely have to curse his name as the Inquisitors have now turned their attention beyond just Jedi. The cloak of the darkness is no longer enough on its own to hide you from the long gaze of the Empire. You’ve taken to hiding out on barely populated Outer Rim worlds, hanging around long enough to establish some kind of routine, before the gentle ripples of the Force lapping against your subconscious grow into towering, dangerous waves. And then you hop back in your ship, barely more than scrap welded to a hyperdrive, and scuttle off to the next system.

Which is where you find yourself now. Koboh could be promising. As you crouch at the edge of an exposed cliff, you study the cosmic anomaly that orbits the planet. The Abyss. You’re not sure what it is, but whatever it is, it creates a strong enough disturbance in the Force that you’re hopeful it will mask your own signature. And, you admit to yourself as your gaze lowers to the breathtaking landscape spread out below you, you’ve hidden in worse places the last few years. Koboh seems promising, indeed.

You spend a few days studying the locals, trying to get a feel for how life works here. For the most part, everyone here seems like they’re from off-world—which is good, because it means you won’t stand out for very long as a newcomer. Everyone here is a newcomer. And everyone here is more concerned, it seems, with the things that lie in the dirt than in the world aboveground. All the better for you.

Concealing your saber hilt against your back like always, you make sure your ship, bucket of bolts that it is, is well-hidden enough to dissuade any potential scrappers. Tucked high on an outcropping, you hope most folks won’t care too much to check out the shiny metal bits not covered by plant matter. Not when it’s several dozen feet above solid ground.

And you make sure you look as uninteresting as possible. With your saber out of view, you could pass for a refugee without issue. Force knows you’ve been weeks without a proper shower; you can feel the dirt and grime on every inch of your skin. Your clothing, usually neat and tucked in, is dusty, torn, and stained with dried blood.

Yes, you’ll fit in nicely here.

As you pass beneath a metallic archway decorated with a massive horned skull, you reach out in the Force, making sure that none of the town’s inhabitants can get the drop on you. You bypass squat, square buildings that are probably homes of some of the folks here. None seem of interest. Instead, your gaze is trained on the larger, multi-story building near the center of town. As you draw nearer, you realize the sign above the door reads, “Saloon.” Perfect.

The door opens to admit you into a hallway; at the end, you wait in front of another door for a moment while a mechanical eye studies you. Chattering in a deep, unintelligible voice, the eye withdraws, and the second door whooshes open to reveal the barroom.

No one turns as you descend the few steps to the floor. Crates and clutter stock most of the booths along the side wall, a few folks talking quietly at smaller tables or sitting alone and nursing a drink. Quiet, staticky radio music plays over the speakers.

Behind the bar is a tall, four-armed droid who skids to a halt where you lean against the counter.

“You’re a new face,” the droid says. “Name’s Monk. What can I get you?”

You quirk an eyebrow and give the droid, Monk, an alias, your sixth one in as many months. Then you say, “Got any spotchka?”

“Indeed I do,” Monk says. “Shall I start a tab?”

“I’ll pay up front,” you say with a shake of your head.

Monk gives you the cost as he pours the glowing blue liquid into a clean glass, and you slide the credits across the counter. The alcohol’s familiar burn slides down your throat as you lean your back against the bar. Over the rim of your glass, you study the other patrons here at the saloon. Dusty, tired figures, the lot of them. In the Force, they are marginal, giving off only nominal signatures, no different than most other living beings. Most of them aren’t important enough to even warrant a clear affiliation with light or dark; they just are. Your upper lip quirks in a grimace.

Extending your awareness out farther, you’re not sure what you’re searching for, but you suppose you’ll know it when you find it. The hilt of your saber digs uncomfortably into your skin, but you ignore it, using the pain to sharpen your focus. You sense more townsfolk going to and fro outside the saloon, but none of them of any more note than those inside.

Something in you itches. Frowning, you lower the glass of spotchka and try to focus in on that feeling. It’s under your skin, out of reach, just behind your spine, but if you just push a little farther—

You gasp, cringing away from the sudden supernova that blinds your awareness in the Force. Cal Kestis. It has to be Cal. No one else burns quite like him.

You yank your Force signature back into your body, hoping he didn’t feel you like you felt him. Figuring you only have moments to get out, you make a split-second decision between the several other doors leading away from this main room. Spotchka glass still in hand, you dart for the nearest door, and it slides open to reveal a staircase that winds upward. You take the steps two at a time. At the landing, you hiss at the sight of a second-floor loft. Stairs seem to continue along the other side, continuing to wind upward, but before you can run for them, a familiar voice drifts up from below.

“Hey, Monk, good to see you,” says Cal Kestis.

Your body flushes with warmth. Kriff.

Monk says something you can’t quite make out.

“Another newcomer?” Cal says. “I’ll make sure to say hi when I see them.”

Grimacing, you creep across the floor toward the second staircase. Your foot just touches the bottom step when a voice behind you calls your name—your real name, not the alias you gave the droid.

You sigh, chin falling toward your chest. “Cal Kestis.”

“How did you find me?”

His green gaze burns into you almost as hot as his Force signature. You roll your eyes; typical Jedi, thinking the world revolves around him.

“I didn’t know you were here,” you say. “I’m...laying low.”

He crosses his arms across his chest, and you’re distracted for a moment by the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “I’m supposed to believe that.”

“Believe whatever you want to, Jedi,” you bite out. “I’ll go find my own desolate planet.”

“Can’t let you do that,” he says, following behind you as you climb the stairs.

“I’d love to see you stop me.”

You feel the disturbance in the Force and brace for it. His attempt to yank you back down the stairs fails as you push against it—but you can’t push past it. Equally matched. Balanced.

With a growl, you spin on your heel and point an accusing finger at Cal. “Are you really sure you want to do this right now?”

His eyes narrow at you as you stand there, chest heaving with emotion, both of you crackling with energy in the Force. You down the rest of your spotchka and shatter the glass on the ground. Cal doesn’t flinch. The longer you stand there, the hotter your face flushes. Ignoring the impulse to shudder, you don’t miss the way his green eyes study your face, your posture, your signature.

“I know you,” he finally says. “From the temple.”

You snort in derision. “Good for you, kid.”

“I was still a youngling when the Clone Wars started,” he says. “I...understand what it’s like to lose your master.”

Your vision pulses black for a moment, and on instinct you reach out with a clawed hand. Cal’s eyes widen in fear as his hands fly to his throat, grabbing at the invisible hand you squeeze there.

“Don’t. Ever. Presume to know anything about me,” you hiss. “You know nothing, Cal Kestis.”

“You’re—right—” he chokes out. “I’m—sorry—”

You shove, the Force exploding through your palm as he slams into the opposite wall. Sputtering, he coughs, rubbing at his throat.

“I don’t need your pity, Jedi.” You spit the title like a curse—like the curse that it is—and turn to take the staircase up and out. The door at the top admits you to the open-air roof, the cosmic explosion of the Abyss looming overhead.

You step over the edge of the roof, calling on the Force to cushion your descent. At the bottom, you ignore the flabbergasted expressions on a few of the locals as you stalk off. Past the saloon, past the stables, through the shallow river—you’re not sure how far you walk, but it’s dark by the time that you realize you’re lost.

“Kriff,” you sigh.

Thankfully, whether by luck or by the sheer force of presence of your Force signature, you’ve not been bothered by any of the (frankly terrifying) wildlife on this planet. Tentatively, you reach out, but you find nothing but a few docile Nekkos and, farther off, a dozing bilemaw.

In the dim light provided by the Abyss and the Shattered Moon hanging heavy in the sky, you determine that a shallow cliff alcove nearby will be as good a place as any to rest until morning. Settling under the rocky overhang, you exhale a shaky breath.

It’s been a long time since you let your emotions take control like that. You allow yourself to feel them, even to use them to your advantage—but you rarely lose control. Not recently, anyways.

You bare your teeth at the thought of Cal Kestis. He’s by far only the latest in a string of former Jedi you’ve encountered, but none of them, even the ones who you remember from your years as a padawan, created this amount of turmoil in you. So why him?

Should probably just ask him myself, huh, you muse, hearing a twig snap nearby. You don’t need to look into the Force to know who it is.

“Who’s following who now?” you call.

With a familiar hum, a blue blade sings as it springs to life, illuminating the alcove you’re hunkered in, as well as Cal’s lean figure. You’re too exhausted to be angry at this point, but a different kind of heat licks up your spine as you push up onto your feet. The warmth settles between your thighs, throbbing uncomfortably as he raises the saber overhead, his arm muscles flexing.

“Had to make sure you didn’t hurt anyone,” he says, halting just a few feet away.

“No one out here to hurt,” you say. “What are you really doing here, Kestis?”

He hesitates, shifting his weight between his feet, eyes not meeting yours. Squinting, you extend a tendril of awareness toward him—past the burnished gold aura, past the shell of Jedi honor he projects like a shield, until you brush against one of those tiny black cracks in his signature. He stiffens, shifts his stance into a defensive half-crouch. There is darkness in him.

And there is lightness in you, sighs a voice that sounds very much like your master’s.

You ignore it.

“Well?” you prompt.

“I- I don’t know,” he says.

You snort. “Well, when you figure it out, let me know.” Sinking back into a meditative pose, you let your eyes slide shut and effectively shut out all things Cal Kestis.

At least, that’s what you try to do. The karking idiot seems to have decided that you’re not a threat—a poor miscalculation on his part—as his saber retracts and you hear the sounds of someone settling into a meditative trance next to you. Peeking one eye open, you glance over to find him sat back on his heels, palms resting on his thighs, his face blank and serene. He’s beautiful like this, you think.

“I could kill you right now, you know,” you say, letting your eye fall shut again.

“You won’t,” he says, sounding so matter-of-fact that you’re almost convinced that you really wouldn’t.

Then you shake your head. “Don’t be so certain.”

“You didn’t kill me five years ago. You won’t kill me now.”

Gnawing at your cheek, you find you have no response for that.

The third time you face Cal Kestis, you want to hate him.

Koboh proves to be big enough for two powerful Force users. You keep to the wilderness, and he sticks to the town. For the most part, anyway. You occasionally catch a glimpse of copper hair as he explores the planet, following all the inane rumors of the locals. Why he even lowers himself to their level, you’ll never understand.

And besides, Koboh has turned out to be a perfect place to continue your search for answers about the Force. You’ve never wanted to stop knowing, never stopped asking “But why?” The Abyss above is a physical presence most days, nearly oppressive in its crushing weight. It absolutely deafens you in the Force whenever you try to reach for it, painful screeching assaulting your senses. There’s something behind the noise, though, but it’s too far, too deep, for you to reach it.

You haven’t seen Cal in a while now. And you’re fine with that. You’d watched his ship take off in the early hours of the morning a few weeks ago, and it still hasn’t returned.

Shrugging, you decide that today is as good a day as any to do some exploring of your own. You’ve watched Cal enough to know that there are hidden vaults on this planet, and from what you’ve been able to tell, they’re old. Maybe they’ll have some answers.

The sunrise peeks over the craggy cliffside, casting a gentle pink hue over the world, still hushed in its predawn slumber. Dew collects on your pant legs as you pass through a small clearing of scrubby bushes. A couple dozen feet up the hill glints a hint of gold. None of the Koboh prospectors would have left this alone unless it were for a reason, you figure. Maybe this is one of the vaults.

Resting a palm gently on its surface, the gold is cool to the touch. Glyphs in Basic and other languages spiral around the circular door-like structure. When you examine it through the Force, you feel the mechanism that keeps it locked, but no matter how much you push, pull, yank, shove, the door remains sealed.

“Dank farrik,” you curse. “How does Cal do it?”

“Very carefully,” a familiar warm voice says from behind you.

You barely glance over your shoulder, flushing from the embarrassment of being caught unawares, but somehow unsurprised he’s managed to find you. You should have known that even thinking of his absence would cause it to revert.

“Very funny,” you say. “What secrets are you hiding, Jedi?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Sith,” he says.

As he sidles up alongside you, you glare at him. “I’m not a Sith.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he says with a shrug. “Red saber, strong in the dark side, angry all the time.”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. His hair is longer than it has been since you first met him, and there’s another scar, pink and shiny, on his upper bicep, like he’d been cut with a vibroblade. As you study him, you also realize he looks...older. More tired. More weary.

“You look like bantha fodder,” you say helpfully.

He hums noncommittally. “Do you want into the vault or not?”

“You’re gonna let me in?” you say, eyebrows raising in surprise.

With a half-shrug, he says, “I’ve already explored this one. Nothing left in it for you to gain, except maybe some manners.”

He reveals a small, handheld device that, when he raises it toward the golden door, blips. The door expands open, revealing a turbolift in the center of the floor.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask, not moving from your spot. Suspicion bubbles in the back of your mind.

Cal pockets the device and gestures for you to go ahead, giving you a sardonic two-finger salute. “It’s in my nature.”

With that, he takes a step back, then another, and then pivots and trudges back downhill, tucking his fiery hair behind his ears.

The vault teaches you something, alright, but it isn’t manners like Cal hoped. Even two century-old tech and warbled messages from a Jedi named Santari Khri cannot lift the veil of jade that rests over your eyes. The Order has always been faulty. The Order has always been weak. Your master was always fated to die, and you to wander, adrift. You grind your teeth in anger. Is that all that exists for you? For anyone? To live and die at the whim of some cosmic, unknowable power?

The vault also reminds you of your mortality. As you work yourself into a silent rage about the unfairness of the galaxy, at the cruel and nonsensical nature of the Force, you miscalculate the distance between two crumbling stone platforms. With a Force-assisted leap, your arms windmill as you keep yourself balanced, but your feet only just manage to catch the edge of the platform. You wobble, anger bursting into fear, as the stone grates against itself before your stomach is in your throat as you plummet straight down.

The rush of frigid air steals the scream from your lungs. Try as you might, the Force refuses to help you grasp onto the quickly receding lip of this chasm.

And then pain rockets up your legs in jagged, arcing lines from your heels to your hips, and you collapse.

It’s only by sheer willpower that you don’t black out. Grit your teeth. Take a deep breath. Curse until the pain abates.

You take stock of your body. Your legs are on fire, and any attempt to move them sends a fresh wave of lava licking up your nerve endings. Otherwise, you wipe away blood from scrapes on your palms and tenderly poke at the bruises already forming on your ribs. Around you, myriad rocks and small boulders litter the cracked, moist ground. Mist clings to the spaces in between. When you look up, the ledge you fell from is completely obscured.

“No Jedi wisdom for me, Santari Khri?” you croak as you gently shift into an upright position. Your teeth squeak from clenching your jaw against the pain, but you manage to prop yourself up with your back against a sizable rock.

The mist deadens your words. Instead of an echo, it’s like the words get clipped short before they can fully materialize in the air. The back of your neck pricks. But, studying your surroundings once more, there is nothing for you to do but meditate. Perhaps, for once, the Force will provide.

You have no way of knowing how much time has passed as you sit in meditation, methodically stretching your awareness to its limits, trying to snag onto any signature in the Force that might help you out of this predicament. Your butt goes completely numb, as do your legs—a fact you feel should incite panic in your already-tight chest, but you can’t find it in you to care. By the time that you’re ready to give up searching, your throat tickles with dryness and your stomach begins to feel empty.

But just as you heave a sigh, rising out of the meditative trance, the Force tugs on your awareness. Furrowing your brow, you concentrate: up, up up up, and to the left. Something steadily growing closer. Something bright, and familiar, and warm.

Cal.

For once, you’re grateful for his annoyingly Jedi-like qualities. You track his presence through the Force, unable to do more than monitor as he seems to approach your location with frustrating slowness.

“Come on,” you mutter, mouth thick. “I’m here. Come find me like you always do.”

After what feels like another small eternity, you finally open your eyes and peer up through the opaque mist. Above, you swear you hear boots crunching on loose rock, and the distant bwee-boop of a droid.

“Down here,” you half call, half croak. The words don’t seem to make it past your throat.

For a terrible moment, you think Cal is going to search the seemingly empty vault and, not finding you within, leave. You can’t tell, through either his footsteps or his Force signature, what he’s doing up there. At the last moment, a burst of panic seizing your limbs, you lean forward with a groan and retrieve your saber, still miraculously tucked into your waistband.

The spitting crimson blade is a comfort as it screeches to life in the oppressive space.

A voice calls your name, cautious.

“Here!” you shout, voice cracking painfully in an effort to be heard.

Blue flame bursts to life somewhere above—much farther above than you initially thought—and you nearly sob in relief.

“Watch your eyes,” Cal shouts down, and you have only a moment to register what he means before you duck, retracting your blade. The unmistakable sound of saber scoring through rock reaches you, heated pebbles showering down on your covered head, and then the sound of two soft leather-clad feet touching down beside you.

Wary, you raise your head. Cal crouches next to you, his face painted with a cautious kind of concern.

“You came back?” You don’t mean to make it a question, but the softness in his eyes, the gentleness with which he ghosts his hands over your many injuries, makes you reconsider your previous anger toward him. At least, for a moment.

“Like I said,” he murmurs, “it’s in my nature.”

“Legs are the worst of it,” you say, gesturing weakly to your two limbs stretched in front of you. Both are angry shades of blotchy red and purple, but no bone peeks out from within your skin at the very least.

Cal casts a questioning look up at you, his palms hovering over your legs. You give a small nod, and he lowers his hands until they make feather-light contact with your skin. Even as careful as he’s being, pain erupts all over again when he brushes over your shin, and you squirm, cursing.

“Probably fractured the bones,” he says. “Need to get you back to town.”

You groan. “Unless you plan on carrying me out of here, Kestis, I’m not in any shape to make it all the way back.”

He studies your face for a moment, really studies it, and you can’t help the way your lips part at the intensity in his gaze. Despite the aching pain in your legs, you can’t suppress the heat blooming up your neck into your cheeks the longer his eyes roam your face. Surely he can sense the way your Force aura grows more agitated.

Whatever he’s searching for on your face, he seems to find it. Shrugging his shoulders, the curious little BD unit you’ve noticed with Cal peeks its white-and-red head up. With a boop?, Cal jerks his chin at you.

The droid slides down Cal’s back and trots up to you. Tilting its head, the mismatched eyes whir and toggle as the droid seems to study you with the same scrutiny as Cal just had.

“What—”

In the blink of an eye—faster, even—a flash of green light dazzles you, followed by the sharp pain of an injection. But that doesn’t even matter, as a blissful, cool relief spreads immediately from the injection site through the rest of your body. The ache in your legs subsides to a dull throb, and you find that you can finally move the limbs without wanting to vomit.

“Stim,” Cal explains. He rises to his feet, and holds a hand out. “Come on. It’ll wear off soon.”

His hand is warm, achingly so, when he grasps yours and tugs you to your feet. Grimacing at the wave of nausea that sweeps over you, you cling to his hand until it passes.

He’s studying the sheer rockface to either side. “I may be carrying you out of here either way. Come on. Hop up.”

He turns to retrieve your saber where you dropped the hilt—he stiffens for just a moment, so quick you think you imagine it, before he hands the hilt back to you. And then he remains facing away from you. You realize, with a deep-seated groan, that he’s removed the jacket he was wearing earlier, when he let you into the vault. His shoulders are bare and so strong and pretty and freckled and—

His soft question of your name breaks you out of your reverie.

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Tentatively, you hook your arms over top of his broad shoulders, trying to ignore the way his skin feels against yours, and he crouches so you can more easily clamber onto his back like a pack.

“BD, up,” Cal orders, and you squirm as the droid clambers up your back to rest with one foot on your shoulder and the other on Cal’s.

Even with the stim working through your system much like coolant in your ship’s engine, and even with Cal doing all he can to keep you steady on his back as he Force-propels himself up the vertical rockfaces of this cavern, you bite into your cheek hard enough for it to bleed to keep yourself from yelping in pain. It’s bad enough that he had to save you from a slow death in this Force-forsaken vault; he doesn’t need to know the fire that licks up your nerve endings with every jostle.

You shuffle off his back as soon as you’re able. A grimace contorts your features as you stumble a few steps, but you wave away Cal’s steadying hands.

“I’m fine,” you grit out.

“Yeah, you look fine,” he says.

You shoot him a glare, but you’re more exhausted than you are angry. “You didn’t have to come back for me.”

“If it makes you feel better,” he says, gesturing for you to step onto the turbolift first, “I don’t expect anything in return. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Ha,” you bark out. Your stomach lurches as the turbolift shudders into its ascent. “Of course I owe you, Kestis. It’s all about balance.”

“Balance,” he says, his voice strangely hollow and contemplative. “You murdered Rexan Binette and Sarela Webb and the others for balance?”

The names of the Jedi you killed reverberate off the curved walls of the lift chamber. Breathing through your nose, you avoid his gaze—and then shake your head at yourself, angry. Why should you be ashamed? It was them or you.

The lift comes to a smooth halt at the top, and you’re somehow unsurprised to find that it appears to be dawn again. Your eyes find Cal’s green ones. They look nearly black in the early morning haze. His expression bares all of his emotions: hurt, suspicion, concern, worry. But he doesn’t seem...afraid. Not of you, anyways, and instead of filling you with rage, that realization makes you deflate.

“The galaxy changed,” you say, voice flat. “You change with it, or you die.”

He fixes you with his stare for a moment more, and then shakes his head and begins the long walk back downhill without a word. Heaving a sigh, you follow him. You can’t repay the debt you now owe him if you die from an infected wound. You tell yourself that the heat bubbling in your chest is hate, hate that you’re now bound to this life debt, hate that of all people you’re in debt to Cal Kestis. But hate has never felt so soft.

The final time that you and Cal Kestis cross paths, you remember why hatred is easier.

It’s only a few weeks after when you’ve fully healed thanks to Cal’s quick intervention, the extra stores of bacta that you had the good foresight to stash in your ship years ago, and perhaps a nudge from the Force. You’ve retreated to your ramshackle abode in the wilderness; thankfully, the worst you have to deal with upon returning is a stray Bogling. No matter how hard you try to shoo the pesky creature away from your hut, it comes back again.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” you grumble, watching the Bogling scratch at the dirt out front of your hut. It chitters as it works to burrow its den.

Cal has disappeared again, which works just fine for you. It’s easier to attune to the Force when he’s gone. When you’re not distracted by his burnished radiance, his soothing calmness, his serene meditation posture, his hair that looks as soft as the Bogling’s fur, his...him.

Genuinely, who the kriff does Cal Kestis think he is? Where does he get the right to continue to do good in the galaxy when all the galaxy wants is to kill him? To kill everyone like him? How does he continue fighting?

For that matter, how do you continue fighting? The sudden self-introspection is jarring. You squint a glare up at the Abyss, the technicolor explosion hanging heavy in the sky, as if it personally arranged your fated entanglement with the Jedi. As if it asked the question of your purpose, not your own conscience.

You have to squint in part because, in the Force, the Abyss is blinding. Stare too long and you’ll be blinking away spots from your vision for hours afterward. As your eyes start to water, you shake your head and bring your gaze back to terra firma. Kark it all, you think, bitter. You continue fighting because you have to. Because you have to know the answer. You have to understand the balance.

In the Force, you’ve watched for years as the streaks of light in your otherwise void-like existence pulse and contract. Here, underneath the staggering presence of the Abyss, the galactic, even cosmic, struggle between Light and Dark, splashes across your own skin, a microcosm. It makes you angry all over again, as you study the vapors of golden lightness drift around you. The anger is good. The anger makes the darkness pulse and surge and rise; the anger makes you more focused.

Gritting your teeth, you try to hang onto the anger.

And then you don’t have to try at all. In your peripheral awareness, the Bogling has scurried in fright into your small hut as the sound of footsteps—many, many footsteps—echoes off the surrounding cliff walls. Your lips curl back in a snarl at being interrupted. Saber hilt smacking into your palm with a familiar weight, the unsteady red blade fills your small clearing with a threatening hum.

Around the corner comes a full squad of Imperials. For a moment, you have to blink, to make sure that what you’re seeing is correct. But no. The hard white duraplast armor gleams in the midday sun, the mixed group of scout- and Stormtroopers advancing as one giant, grotesque organism. And at its midst, in the nucleus, are two black-clad figures wielding crackling electrostaffs.

Purge Troopers.

How dare they. How dare they come to your planet—and you hesitate only a moment over the possessiveness in your anger—and only another moment more when you find that you include Cal’s place on Koboh in that possession. This is your planet, together. The Light, and the Dark.

In all things, balance.

“Enemy located,” crackles the voice of one of the troopers. You don’t know, and don’t frankly care, which.

As the white-clad troopers fan out in a loose semicircle, blasters and batons raised at half-ready, the two Purge troopers continue a few paces forward. They’re nearly identical, all the way down to the way that they settle their weight on their right feet, perfectly unbalanced.

“You won’t get away,” the one to your left calls, his voice imperious and cold. “Not this time. You’ll be coming with us.”

“Don’t be so sure,” you call back, feigning disinterest. Through the Force, you mentally draw the battle map, the path of carnage and rage and blood you’ll wreak through the ten troopers in front of you.

“There are ten of us,” the other Purge Trooper says, voice cocky and self-assured. The battle map in your mind halts, then reasserts itself with a new pattern. One that places Mr. Cocky and Arrogant at the top of your assault.

You snort. “Glad to know the Empire is teaching its troopers basic math. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

You twirl your saber in a half circle around your body, a familiar ritual, a reset button to remind you to keep your head clear. As blasters raise to full height, you take a deep, centering breath, and close your eyes.

A silence takes over your ears, your mind, your very being. You are one with the Force; the Force is with you. Despite all your issues with the cosmic Force, you know it will not fail you now. You don’t hear the order to fire, you don’t hear the clicks of triggers, you don’t hear the scream of blaster bolts. You don’t need to. Guided by the Force, void-like and in command, your arms—your saber—jumps into place.

Four blaster bolts pelt your way. Four blaster bolts ricochet and catch their originators in the chest. Four troopers fall.

You open your eyes, lips tugging back over your teeth in a mockery of a smile. Sound returns to you just as one of the scout troopers, shaken, stumbles back with a cry: “St-Stormtrooper KIA!”

You enact your battle map.

Gathering the Force to yourself, you push off the ground and shoot forward with a Force assist, your saber swinging up and cleaving back down at the critical juncture between the cocky Purge Trooper’s neck and shoulder. The glowing plasma sinks easily through duraplast, fabric, and flesh alike; the trooper’s groan of pain gurgles as your blade cuts through his lungs. Now there are five.

You whirl, saber moving nearly of its own accord to intercept each blow that the remaining troopers rain upon you. It’s nearly child’s play to parry their attacks, send them staggering off-balance. In a crucial moment where all your opponents hesitate to move forward again, you bare your teeth. Reaching out with a clawed hand, you grip the throat of one of the troopers, lift him bodily with the Force, then yank down as hard as you can. There’s a satisfying crack when he hits the ground.

You’re doing fine. You’re going to triumph here; the Force has willed it so. The fear of the remaining troopers is palpable and you draw on it, siphoning it into yourself, into your cracked and screaming kyber crystal. With a leaping slash, two trooper heads bounce away.

The remaining two troopers look at each other. You don’t need the Force to smell the fear rolling off of the scout trooper in waves, and you fix him with a feral grin.

“No more quips?” you ask, voice harsh.

He drops his baton and runs.

“Just you and me,” the Purge Trooper observes.

“How very astute of you,” you say. “Your friend was the smart one. You can still run; I’ll let you go. For now.”

“Not a chance.” The buzzing electrostaff twirls through the air as the Trooper lowers into a defensive crouch. “Surrender.”

“Not a chance,” you echo, matching his stance. “Now, why don’t—”

A voice, familiar and warm and distracting, shouts your name from above. Like a fool, you hesitate, turning. There’s a glimpse of coppery hair, a blue flame, and golden radiance. You growl at the interruption—

And cry out as the electrostaff comes down across your upper back, singeing into your clothing, biting into your skin.

You drop to your knees, vision blurry. Stupid. That was stupid.

The Purge Trooper immediately raises the staff for another strike, but before it can make contact with the back of your neck, a rush of energy steamrolls over you and shoves the trooper fifteen feet back. His heels dig into the soft dirt.

“Jedi!” If the trooper is surprised to see Cal Kestis coming to the rescue of the likes of you, you can’t hear it in his voice. “Guess this is my lucky day.”

“Don’t count on it,” you wheeze. Grunting in pain, you shove to your feet and reset, saber singing in the air, the smell of ozone stinging your nose.

Your name again, gentler this time, and closer. This time, you don’t turn, instead waiting for him to come to you. And he does, just like you knew he would. In the corner of your eye, Cal Kestis and his supernova signature provide something like...comfort. Heat bubbles and sputters in your chest at his closeness. This feeling is hate, you reassure yourself.

“You’re hurt,” he says, voice pitched low.

“I’ve had worse,” you say. “You here to help, or to mock?”

He fully faces you, and you sense more than see his eyes rake over your profile. With a shake of his head, his copper hair flowing nearly to his shoulders, he raises his saber, point-first, toward the Purge Trooper. With a satisfied smile, you swing your saber in lazy circles. Finally.

The two of you attack at the same time, nudged along by the Force. Together, you flank the trooper, whose training seems to have prepared him for a moment such as this. But for all the training this trooper has, you and Cal have more. You and Cal have more to fight for. More to lose. More to gain.

Cal’s blur of a blue saber slashes through the air, at every turn blocking the trooper’s pressing attack, forcing the Imp to recalibrate. And when he attempts to do so, tries to even catch his breath, you’re there, the Force driving your swings harder. You know the blows that land on the staffs jar the Imp’s wrists all the way to his shoulders. You know he’s going to falter. You know he’s going to die.

When the fear once again rises from this trooper, you smile.

Overconfident, you twirl, blade seeming to bend as it whirls through the air. It will connect with the trooper at his waist.

It does—but his staff connects with you once again at your own waist, and this time it bites into your flesh and holds.

“No!” Cal’s shout is harsh and angry. With a final flash of blue, the Purge Trooper slumps sideways, body collapsing into the dirt. The momentum yanks the electrostaff out of your side.

You drop your saber hilt to press against the bleeding wound, hands shaking. Kark, this hurts. Why does it hurt so bad? Cal’s face, with wide, scared green eyes, appears in your field of vision.

A spark of anger temporarily distracts you from the pain in your side and along your back. “Kestis,” you grind out. “I had it under control.”

“It’s in my nature,” he says, like that explains everything. You suppose it does. Your anger abandons you, and you stagger forward, into his embrace.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against you as he ducks under your arm, taking your weight. “C’mon, we’ll get inside and I’ll patch you up.”

“Got any more of those stims?” you ask, words slurring a little. You glance down at your side and blink dumbly at the amount of red staining your clothes.

“A few more,” Cal says. “They’re yours. Just need to get you inside.”

The several dozen feet to your hut pass in a blur and in a blink—you’re not sure which. Maybe it’s both. But you sigh as you settle down into the familiar comfort of your small cot. In the corner, you’re dimly aware of the Bogling cowering below the small kitchen table. Critter is cute, you suppose. Maybe it can stay.

You’re delirious. That has to be it. You’d never willingly take in a stray.

BD hops up on the cot next to you and, at Cal’s nod, ejects a glowing green stim canister. Cal catches it and then plunges the small needle into your side, just above the gash there. Cool relief tingles through you, and you smile at him.

“That feels good,” you mumble.

“I’m glad,” he says, an odd note in his voice. “You got medical supplies?”

You gesture vaguely to the screened-off back corner, your ’fresher. “If I do, s’in there.”

BD stays with you while Cal rummages through your meager supplies, the little droid’s head tilted to the side as though studying you. You blink at him.

Bwoop-beep? the droid chimes.

“I don’t speak Binary, sorry,” you say.

Cal chuckles, returning with a handful of supplies. “He’s wondering if you’re feeling okay.”

You feel okay enough to feel annoyed at the question, and you shoo the little droid off your bed. When you return your attention to Cal, he’s hesitating, a roll of gauze, bottle of alcohol, and a needle in his hands.

“What,” you ask, flatly.

“Need to take your shirt off to clean the wound properly,” he says, and if you knew him better, you might think he sounds nervous. Embarrassed, even.

But you don’t know him that well, and so you ignore his tone of voice. “Fine.”

You struggle for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, hissing as the movement pulls at the wound in your side. Once it’s off, you throw it toward the ’fresher.

Cal still hesitates, his eyes everywhere but on you. Another surge of annoyance flares in you, and you snatch the medical supplies out of his hands.

“I’d really like to not bleed out here, Kestis,” you admonish. He at least has the sense to look abashed at that, and assists you in cleaning out the wound, stitching it shut, and wrapping you in gauze to keep pressure on it. You don’t let out a single curse, hiss, or groan the entire time, making the inside of your mouth bleed with how hard you bite down.

“You okay?” he asks once you’re bandaged up.

“What do you think?” you retort. “M’gonna sleep. You can go.”

“I’ll stay,” he says. He withdraws, but remains in your small hut, slinging himself into the hand-hewn wooden chair at your dining table. “Rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“Why?” You can’t help the way the question sounds equal parts frustrated and incredulous.

“Just sleep, Sith,” he says. His voice brooks no argument, and for once, you have none.

When you wake, it’s still light outside. Your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with gauze and left to dry out, your head not much better. With a soft groan, you roll onto your side and peer into the half-lit room.

Cal’s already watching you. His gaze meets yours and pierces you, pinning you to the small cot tucked against the wall. Swallowing against the dryness in your throat, you study his features. The dark scar across his face. The lean lines of his torso and muscles. The strand of fiery hair that curls over his forehead and teases his chin. Despite the lingering shards of pain in your side, heat flickers in your core.

“Why did you really come here, Cal?” you ask, voice low, the stillness around you demanding to remain unbroken. “Why did you come back for me at all? You know the things I’ve done. The people I’ve killed. I can’t be worth saving.”

He is quiet as he contemplates your question, his hands loosely clasped in his lap. Silence stretches between you, slow and languid, and you nearly hold your breath waiting for his response.

Eventually he gives a half shrug. “There was a time when I believed everyone is worth saving. Since the Empire, things have...been different. I’m not so sure everyone deserves to be saved.”

“So why come back?”

His eyes are soft when they find yours again. You want to be angry, want to latch onto the residual pain in your body and sharpen it into a vibroblade, hurl it outward from yourself and hope it hurts him as much as you’ve been hurt. In your gut, the darkness stirs, but in your heart, the light whispers patience.

“I see too much of myself in you to not come back for you,” he says, so quiet you nearly don’t process the words.

But when his confession does register, you blink in surprise. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you.

“We couldn’t be more opposite, Kestis,” you say. “Do you know what you look like, in the Force?”

When he remains silent, shifting in the wooden chair uncomfortably, you push yourself up into a sitting position. A sigh sloughs out of your throat.

“You’re the most...beautiful thing I’ve seen,” you say, hesitating only briefly over the words. “You shine. You’re a beacon of light. Stars, Cal, you’re practically a star yourself.”

His lips part in surprise, and you can’t ignore the way your core twists at the expression. “But—”

You raise a hand. “There’s darkness there, sure, but you are the light, Kestis. And sure, there may be light in me, but believe me, I’m a void. The void. You’ll never carry the sins that blacken my soul.”

His toned chest rises and falls with his rapid, shallow breaths. When he swallows, you watch the way his throat bobs, the muscles that strain at his neck, the tightening of his hands into fists. Without even needing to look, you can feel the way his Force signature roils with confusion and surprise. You’ve caught him off-guard, yet again. The knowledge sends a pulse of heat to the apex of your thighs.

“Show me,” he whispers.

You frown, brows furrowing. “What?”

“In the Force,” he says. “Show me.”

“I’ve never—”

“I have a gift.” He grimaces. “Psychometry. It might not work. But I want to see.”

Ah. You understand how he knew the names of the Jedi you murdered, and glance at your saber hilt resting on the table near him. How much has he seen?

Apparently, not enough.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you shrug. “Fine. C’mere.”

The cot groans under the added weight, not meant for two people, but it holds. You adjust yourself to sit with your legs crossed, your knees touching Cal’s as he mirrors your posture. A slight twinge tugs at your ribs as you move. Cal’s eyes soften again as you grimace.

“Don’t,” you grit out. “Save your pity.”

“It’s not—” He huffs. “Whatever.”

Glaring up at him through your eyelashes, you nevertheless rest your hands palm-up, fingers outstretched toward him. Cal gently rests his hands over yours. His skin is heated, electric where it touches yours. The thought crosses your mind, fleetingly, what your odds would be if you decided to finally end it here and now; the thought disappears as soon as his calloused fingers wrap around your forearms.

“Like this?” he murmurs.

“Feels right,” you reply in the same tone. “Here goes nothing, yeah?”

You inhale a deep, centering breath, and allow yourself to sink into the currents of the Force. For a moment you have to squint as Cal’s truest form explodes across your perception. This close, you’re surprised he doesn’t radiate any extra heat. You’re also surprised at the imperfections you find in his signature, the small nicks in the otherwise flawless, gleaming golden skin. You have to restrain yourself from leaning forward to examine him even closer. The desire to know him, to pick him apart and put him back together, rushes through you, pulsing in your fingertips.

When you feel adjusted to his presence, this close, this intoxicating, you squeeze his hands. Focusing on the places where the two of you connect—your palms, your knees, your signatures—you will your unique sight to bleed into his awareness.

Judging from the way he stiffens and gasps, you figure it worked. Your combined abilities and strength in the Force, overlapping just this once, let him see the world like you do.

“You’re so...” He trails off, voice strained. “Empty.”

“Thanks for noticing.” You squeeze his hands again. “Do you underst— oh.”

You nearly choke as the Force nudges against your mind. For a moment, you’re no longer in your hut, but instead on an unfamiliar ship, palms pressed against a stranger’s—no, not a stranger—her name drifts to you. Merrin. You’re comparing palm sizes with her, and her hands are nearly as big as yours—as Cal’s.

You rip away from Cal Kestis and the illusion breaks.

Heat burns up your neck to your face. “What the kriffing hell was that?”

“What did you see?” he asks, concern flashing in his eyes. He reaches for you, and you lean away, glaring.

You don’t even know why you’re angry. Any emotions you’ve felt for Cal have been ones you can explain: anger, frustration, begrudging respect, competitiveness, hatred. You recognize his attractiveness, and you don’t deny the effect his presence has on your baser desires—but the nearly painful flare of possessiveness pulsing in you right now is foreign. Inexplicable.

“It doesn’t matter,” you eventually mutter. “Did you see?”

“I saw you,” he says. Tentatively, he skims his fingertips over your leg, up to your knee. When you don’t retreat, he gently snags your hand and threads your fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

You bare your teeth and tug your hand away—or try to. His fingers tighten around yours, holding you in place. “I told you before, Kestis. I don’t need your pity.”

“Then don’t see it as pity,” he says. “See it as an understanding. A mutual experience.”

Sucking on your teeth, your jaw clenches for a moment before you sigh. “Fine. Who’s Merrin?”

“An old friend,” Cal says, a little too quickly. “She’s... She went her own way a while ago.”

Something like triumph glows in you. “Good.”

He fixes you with a confused look, a crease forming between his brows. “Wha—”

You cut him off, surging forward to press your lips greedily against his. The impulse to be closer to him, impossibly close, is overwhelming in this moment. His palm is warm and steady and grounding against yours. He grunts against you, going absolutely still.

When you pull away, not moving more than a few inches away, you meet the shock in his gaze with a sense of pride. His eyes flit between yours, searching. You drag your eyes down to his lips, parted and damp and so fucking pink.

His other hand cradles the back of your head and pulls you forward into another kiss.

You groan into his mouth. His lips are warm and soft and sweet against yours, moving slowly, uncertain. You tilt your head, nudging his nose with your own. With your free hand, you grip at his shirt and claw your way into his lap. You need more. More of him, more of his warmth, more of his touch, more more moremoremore.

He breathes your name against your lips, and you shush him gently. His body is hard and lean beneath yours, his touch hesitant. Fingers still intertwined, you guide his hand to your waist. Without the barrier of your shirt, his touch burns, scorching you from the outside in. His fingers splay across your skin, trailing molten desire in their wake. Heat pulses in your core.

“Kriff,” you sigh, “please.”

“Didn’t think you had manners,” he quips, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your jaw, down your neck.

You reach up and tug on his fiery hair, earning a low groan. “Rude.”

He chuckles against your skin, his lips brushing against a sensitive spot. A shiver dances up your spine, a quiet sigh passing your lips. When he bites down there, you moan.

“Kestis,” you pant.

“Shh,” he soothes. The hand on your waist trails down to your hip and squeezes in time with another bite to your skin. With another groan, you rock your hips down into him. A grin curls your mouth up in pleasure at the feeling of his half-hard cock beneath you.

“Off,” you order, tugging on his shirt.

He breaks away from you long enough to yank the offending article up and over his head. Your palms smooth over the rippling muscles beneath his pale, freckled skin of his stomach, and he shudders. Brushing your thumb over a blaster scar under his ribs, you press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Did it hurt?” you ask.

“I’ve had worse,” he says.

“Show me.”

His green eyes are dark, nearly black, when he meets your gaze with a questioning look. In response, you skim a featherlight trail over his torso, lingering at the scars that mar his otherwise perfect skin—mirrors, you realize, of the imperfections of his golden aura.

When you trace the pink scar that bisects his face, he shivers. His hand catches your wrist, halting your movement.

“That one,” he whispers, voice pained. “That was the worst.”

You recognize, this close, the telltale signs of a saber wound. He’s lucky to have survived that, you realize.

Kriff. You press your mouth to his once again, wrapping your legs around his torso. His body fits against yours, hard planes to soft edges, and you groan in unison. His kiss is still tentative, but he moves against you without hesitation when you deepen the kiss, your tongue licking across his bottom lip. His tongue is hot against yours. Spit slicking your lips, you groan into his open mouth.

Fuck, you need more. Pulling at his hair, you urge his head to tip back, exposing the pale column of his throat. You lick a stripe down his skin, tasting his natural saltiness, delighting in the way his cock hardens against your clothed core.

“Want you,” you mumble against his collarbone.

He hums. “I’m yours.”

That possessive flare from before practically obliterates any coherent thoughts your brain was still capable of producing. Growling, you push him onto his back, shuffling down, kissing and licking and biting at his skin as you fumble with his pants. The buttons come undone; his hips raise to help you shuck the clothing off. His cock bobs as it comes free of the confines.

“Oh fuck,” you moan. “Been holding out on me, Kestis.”

“If I’d known—” His voice cracks. “If I’d known all you needed was to be fucked, we coulda done this sooner.”

Tingles spark through your core hearing him curse—hearing him talk about something as base and dirty as fucking you. Stars, the heat in your core is nearly unbearable.

You need to taste him.

Wrapping your fingers around his heavy cock, you smear a droplet of precum over his flushed head. His body jerks in response, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at you, a smirk playing at his lips. Without warning, you envelope him in your mouth. Cal cries out, hips jerking up. You moan in satisfaction around him. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink your mouth further down onto his length, before sucking, tongue teasing the underside of his head. One hand cupping his balls, you relax your throat and take him deep. The curls at the base tickle your nose.

“Oh stars,” he breathes. “You’re so good at that. F-Fuck.”

You hum, settling into a rhythm. His hand, broad and strong and warm, rests on top of your head—not pushing, just there, feeling you. His chest heaving, you can’t help but admire the flush rising to his cheeks, painting him in sin. Spit dribbles out of your mouth, coating the parts of him you can’t reach. Your eyes never leave his.

Snaking your free hand down your body, you moan at the pleasure that zings through you at the momentary relief of touching yourself.

“No.” Cal’s voice is strangled, strained. He flicks two shaky fingers, and your hand is yanked out from beneath your body by the Force.

An obscene pop echoes in your hut as you pull your mouth away from his weeping cock. “Either touch me, or I’ll do it myself,” you growl.

“Then c-come here,” he stutters.

Shimmying out of your pants, you discard the garments to the floor without a second thought and climb your way up his body. His hands skim your sides, his touch barely there, as your mouth reconnects with his. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of his mouth, his touch, his cock. He feels too good.

You hiss when his hand brushes against your aching sex. He breaks the kiss long enough for his eyes to find yours, a silent question there as his fingers find purchase at your core.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice. When he moves his hand against you, your vision blurs and you press your forehead to his.

“Stars, Kestis, just like that,” you hiss.

He rubs his nose against yours. “Let me take care of you.”

His touch is electric. Your body jerks against him when his fingers move just right, applying just the right amount of pressure. Heat and tension build in your belly, growing more and more taut by the second. Your legs shake on either side of his hips.

“Cal,” you whine. “Gonna cum.”

His touch retreats, and you whimper at the loss of contact.

“You’re g-gonna cum on my cock,” he promises, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. The sweetness of the action contrasts with the filth of his words, and your stomach lurches.

“Fuck, yes, okay.” You spit in your hand and reach down to make sure you’re ready for him.

He slicks his own palm with spit and jerks his cock once, twice, getting himself prepped. With his hand at his base, steadying his length, you slowly sink onto him. He splits you open inch by inch, the delicious burn of him in your core drawing a pitiful moan from your chest. When he bottoms out, you twitch in his lap, chest heaving.

“T-Take me so well,” he murmurs, ghosting his fingertips over your face. “Stars, you feel so- so good.”

You whine. “Cal.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

The pet name seems to surprise him as much as it does you. The heat that’s been simmering in your chest for months now, since the first time you encountered him, dulls into something...softer. More muted. More pliant.

Eyes locked together, you test the waters and raise your hips a fraction. Moans tumble from both of you at the friction, and that’s all you need. Rolling your hips, you work his cock, drawing the most delicious noises from him. He caresses your face, smooths a hand over your back, kisses you sweetly. You find just the right angle where his cock brushes against that bundle of nerves deep inside, and you shudder.

“Cal, I—”

“Yes,” he groans. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You drag your hips frantically against his, chasing the sparks bursting in your core with each thrust. His touch turns harsh as you ride him; your hips will surely bear bruises tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips. You moan at the thought. Mine. Mine mine mine mine.

Rutting against that raw piece of heaven in your core, you’re blind to everything else. Your injury forgotten, the empty void that yawns in your soul, your frustration with Cal Kestis: all of it is irrelevant right now. All that matters is that you keep fucking Cal. All that matters is the way his cock feels sliding in and out of you, dragging against your walls. All that matters is the way he moans your name like a prayer.

“Need you t-to cum,” he orders, words faltering as you clench around his cock.

“I’m close,” you say, voice hoarse. The tension in your belly draws hot and tight, ready to snap.

Cal finally thrusts up to meet you when you bounce down, and you scream. That taut cord in your belly releases, snapping in two, and you see white. Pleasure explodes through you; every nerve lit on fire, tears dew in your eyes from the intensity. You claw at Cal’s chest, searching for purchase as he absolutely rails into you, chasing his own release.

Through it all, he babbles. “J-Just like that, baby. Cum all over this cock. Fuck, you’re g-gonna make me— I— fuck, ngh, I’m—”

He stills as he cums, his cock pulsing against your walls, and you jerk at the sensation, oversensitive.

Your eyes flutter as you look down at him in the gathering darkness. His skin shines with a thin sheen of sweat. As his cock softens inside of you, letting some of his cum drip out, you groan softly.

“This was a mistake,” you whisper.

He swallows visibly, and nods. “I know.”

You capture his lips in another kiss, one he returns with a fervor. Stars, you almost wish you really did hate him. This would be so much easier.

“What now?” he asks, thumb brushing over your tender hips.

You shrug. “Same time next week?”

He huffs a laugh. “Very funny.”

“Thanks.”

He hums. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

All of the heat of the last few minutes dissipates immediately, and ice knifes your insides. You push away from him finally, his cum dripping down your inner thigh as you stand, bend to retrieve your clothes, tug them on.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say, Kestis?”

He sighs as he reaches for his own clothes. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“You should have left when I told you to,” you say, arms crossed over your chest as you stare out the single window of your home at the rapidly falling dark.

“Yeah, maybe.” His hand is warm and familiar where he rests it on your shoulder. “You could...come with me.”

You narrow your eyes. “And have to live by your Jedi code? No thanks.”

“No code,” he says, quiet, contemplative. “Just the fight.”

“Just the fight,” you echo. When he nods, something you sense more than see, you sigh. “I could...tag along. Just this once.”

“Of course,” he says. His lips press against your temple. “Just this once.”

Swallowing against the strange metallic taste rising to your mouth, you blink and summon the Force. You’re grateful for Cal’s grounding presence behind you. Your signature is...muddied. Marbled black and gold. When you glance down at his hand on your skin, you find that his aura is the same as yours. Mixed. Confused.

Balanced.

Yes, you think. Hating him would have been easier.

#cal kestis x reader #cal x reader #cal kestis x gn!reader #jedi survivor spoilers #jedi survivor fanfiction #rhiplies #rhiwrites

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