#this is obviously after greez has given him the talk

[stealingpotatoes]

I love the running gag on your blog that Cal and Merrin are single-handedly repopulating both the Jedi and the Nightsisters

idk if we're quite at running gag yet but we can GET there

(commission info // kofi support!)

[breakfastteatime]

Cere leans against the engine room door, watching Cal at the workbench. She'd come to fetch him for dinner and found him tweaking his lightsaber, most likely to keep what remains of the weapon functional. She's seen some busted lightsabers in her time, but nothing quite like his. She'd known Jaro Tapal, remembered his dual-bladed lightsaber that Cal now wields. Cere has not, and will never, ask him what happened to damage it. She doesn't need to, just like she doesn't need to ask him what happened to his own weapon, one that would've suited his stature far better. Cal's obviously grown in the past five years, but he'll never be Lasat-sized.

BD-1 dances across the workbench and spies Cere. He greets her with a cheery whistle and Cal finally looks up from his work, blinking as his eyes shift to a more distant focus. "Oh, hi, sorry. I didn't hear you."

Deciding this is all the invitation she needs, Cere steps in. "Don't worry. It's dinnertime. I just didn't want to disturb you while you work."

"Oh. Sorry. I just wanted to tune the emitter. It feels a little off."

"I see," Cere says. She doesn't, given that she's never used his lightsaber, but Cal's a born tinkerer. She's amazed he hasn't fixed the bottom half of the 'saber yet. She laughs inwardly, knowing as soon as he has the right parts he'll be doing exactly that. "Fixed it?"

Cal ignites the weapon, brilliant blue light shining across the engine room. He lacks the space to swing it, instead listening intently. "Hmm, better," he says, deactivating it and clipping it to his belt. He looks at Cere. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Don't worry about it," Cere tells him.

"Master Tapal always told me if I spent as much time practicing my forms as I did maintaining my lightsaber, I would've been able to beat Master Drallig before my eleventh birthday."

Cere laughs at that. "That man was unreal. I sometimes felt sorry for whichever Knight got it into their head to try and defeat him."

“Did you try?” Cal asks, not quite pulling off the naïve waif act he’s aiming for.

“Absolutely not,” Cere says. “And neither did Jaro Tapal. He was far too wise for such an idea.”

“What about Master Cordova?”

Cere almost chokes herself when she bursts out laughing. “No!”

Cal surprises her with his next question. “Do you… do you still have your lightsaber?”

“Only the hilt,” she says, an old wrench of anguish tugging somewhere deep inside. “You can see it, if you’d like.”

“Are you sure?” Cal asks, leaving the question hanging.

Cere realises what he means and nods at the workbench. “I’ll leave it there for you.”

After dinner, while Cal helps Greez with the dishes and BD-1 watches on, Cere returns to her cabin and pulls out her lightsaber hilt. She stares at it, wondering what Cal will pick up from it. She’s curious to know if she’s being brutally honest. Curious, and perhaps a little terrified. As promised, she leaves it on the workbench for him and spends the rest of the evening fighting the temptation to tell him to go pick it up and report back what he saw.

He doesn’t talk to her about it until the following morning, when he comes for breakfast with a poorly concealed smirk.

“What?” Greez bites out before Cere can even get there.

“Oh, hi, Greez!” Cal says with far too much cheer. BD-1 snickers on his shoulder.

Greez stares at him. “Have you been eating my plants? Did we not discuss the potential side-effects they’d have on Humans?”

Cal folds himself into a chair at the galley table. Cere stares at him, wondering what exactly it was he saw. Nothing bad, based on the look of him. He catches her staring and his grin widens. “Greez, did you know Cere once considered herself such a master with the ‘blade, she contemplated taking on the Jedi’s actual renowned lightsaber master?”

Cere stares. No. He hasn’t. Of all the memories, it’s that one?

Greez is suddenly very interested, and he serves up Cal’s breakfast eggs with a little more flourish than usual. “Go on.”

Cere sighs. Of all the damn echoes…

Cal pours himself tea. “Yeah, she’d just been knighted. Figured she’d better really test herself before she set out into the big ol’ galaxy.”

“Uh huh…” Greez is loving this.

“Cere was on her way to the dojo when she heard the sounds of a pitched battle. It was intense, and the Force burned with energy of the duel. Other Jedi gathered too, knights and masters, all of whom wondered who was mad enough to take on none other than Master Drallig, the Jedi Master who trained all others in the ways of the lightsaber.” Cal’s so caught up in his tale, Cere’s amazed he isn’t re-enacting it with his own lightsaber. “She steps in, and who does she see?”

“Don’t say Master Yaddle, kid, my heart couldn’t take it.”

“Oh no, it was Jedi Master Mace Windu, considered to be one of the top five duellists in the entire Order.”

Cal can’t keep his own wonder out of his voice. Cere remembers it only too well, remembers watching Mace Windu get absolutely wrecked by Master Drallig as her hand squeezed her own weapon, suddenly grateful she hadn’t arrived before Mace. He was indeed one of the greatest duellists in the Order.

But not the greatest.

And Master Drallig reminded him with ease.

“Top five, huh?” Greez says, pouring himself a fresh mug of caf. “Where’d you rank, Cere?”

“Not that high,” Cere admits, more grudgingly than she expects.

Cal’s smile is somehow broader than ever. Who knew there was such a smug little shit hiding under all that Bracca refinery? “When Master Windu finally yielded, Cere decided against her decision and opted to find someone else to spar with that day.” He leans forward, elbow on table, chin on hand. “So I guess what you told me yesterday was true, from a certain point of view.”

Cere musters all her dignity. “Indeed. I never challenged Master Drallig, and I felt sorry for anyone who did.”

[simpingwriter]

Cal Kestis x Kyra Yarmot

'In the Name of Love' pt.10

Said emotional distress incoming :D

And someone might get fucking stabbed, not in this part yet but yeah-

I wasted so many – way too many – braincells of trying not to cry onto my phone that I am literally a walking, barely breathing shitpost on my Discord rn–

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 2.928 Words

___________________

Your first reaction was to not just run, you flew away without another warning. You ignored the voice of his shouting your name, trying to scrub your mind from what you just had to witness.

So when you returned, visibly shaken, the attention on your findings out there was huge. Mostly because you didn't tell them about what you saw.

You told them about nothing.

Deafening silence filled the Mantis when they started to realize that you wouldn't answer any of their questions, not even when Greez asked how you made it through the Hail, if you had any trouble. The hail wasn't even something you noticed you flew through, melted ice in your hair and on your clothes the only indication…all you had in front of you was the burning yellow that replaced the green ones you loved so much.

Was this really happening? Did Cal…was this really Cal on that ship…or did you imagine that, just to have some bizarre certainty on his whereabouts? In that case, your mind was awfully cruel to make some Inquisitor appear like your Cal.

But unfortunately, you had a hunch…this wasn't just your imagination, a coping mechanism to say. On the inside you knew it had to have been Cal. Alone from the all too familiar voice, that so desperately tried to get your far far away attention back there.

After that day, you spent day and night thinking about his reasons…what was…what was such a shock to him that it coerced him into joining the enemies!? The very people that killed and enslaved your kind, that killed the Jedi or are hunting them and the remaining Rebellion of the Republic down!

It caused you to become less and less...and less...talkative in just a week worth of rotations, crying quietly to yourself in the shower or in bed became an old, quite familiar routine as you had your old nightmares return, worse and more vivid than ever before.

So you gave up on sleep for the most part.

Instead, you threw yourself into one dangerous mission after another, of course given to you by none other than Cere. They mildly took your mind off the nagging and consistent itching of the knowledge that currently, somewhere in this huge Galaxy was Cal, your lover…being training to become your ultimate Enemy.

You had heard of the training they forced Inquisitors under if they weren't willing from the beginning, which most of them obviously weren't. Like Trilla.

Cal would have to endure the same mental torture as her, conditioning, brain washing…he would turn into the same mental disaster as her.

Everyday these horrible, sometimes gory, images of him strapped tightly against a cold metal chair returned, one more dark than the last. Some made him scream his throat bloody against the gag they would wrap against his mouth. It was virtually useless against the noises he made, never had you imagined a mere human could sound like that. Others had his brain fried to a point he drooled like a toddler, eyes unfocused and still the yellow – the burned-into-your-brain-yellow – irises.

It has been now nearly 47 rotations into your own personal inner torture…the made up screams of the redhead haunting your "sleep" in the same way the screams of your old Clones haunted you. Their last words were nothing but gurgles, their throats filling with blood...

Or his, Din's, last words.

"Never let anyone stand in the way of your goals and dreams, kid…and even if you're not a Mandalorian, just like Grogu and the Rest: This is the way...your way."

This is the way…

But was your way worth the pain and suffering?

As an awful routine by now, you stood up quietly from your bed, eyeing the cold, empty bed on the opposite side. The black partition that formerly kept you from seeing it at this angle had been ripped apart during an attempt to hopefully ease the pain ripping you apart. That's what you at least tried to tell yourself.

BD had also turned more quiet over the months, but not mute, like you technically. The only times he really talked with anybody was when you were around, something Merrin even pointed out two weeks ago. You didn't acknowledge it, too tired to actually care about such trivial mentions and the implications they could potentially hold.

'Good Morning, Kyra…I heard you cry again in the night...' If it wasn't so sad in sentiment, you would've laughed and shook your head at BD…he still noticed, even after the 46th night of the same events? But in the end, you realized it was simply because BD cared…he at least still did, he didn't give when his questions returned no answers. BD was just happy to still have you, even now Cal was gone.

In the first weeks of your refusal to verbally reply to the rest of the Mantis Crew, they too had been worried, even Cere, they tried to find ways to get you to talk to them. Tried to even crack Jokes!...they couldn't have possibly known but every Joke felt more and more tasteless to you, a scowl behind your mostly neutral or somewhat negative expressions. They joked about whatever kind of banthashit…while Cal was most certainly getting everything that made Cal himself erased. Burned out of him like it was a difficult stain in an old pan…

But after a certain point…they stopped caring, all of them.

Every once in a while, you were happy they no longer tried to force some trivial and arbitrary words from you and on other days you wondered if they really cared about you either. Or if they would start telling jokes as well when you're the one being held somewhere and getting your brain fried to next cycle's tomorrow…

Merrin, of all who you thought had actually become a good friend in those earlier three months, even she stopped trying to make you talk to her after she noticed you wouldn't speak with her anymore…

So now, you're getting ready for the next mission on the next planet, like clockwork by now. Each day a new one, each one not less dangerous. Actually, more dangerous. Like Cere slowly noticed she could send you into absolutely anything about now – probably even a suicide mission but unfortunately she then would've both her viable Jedi – you would have to verbally start complaining and protest her for her to stop planning such life threatening missions. You had the terrible feeling in your stomach that she knew that. She used your abilities with that in mind…

Cal and you together usually told her if you thought something was too risky. It forced her to replan and then show you once more till you two or just one of you sometimes agreed to it being not too horrible. Cere was 100% capable of bringing up good plans as well, it did feel like she didn't want to spend that much time anymore though.

Now, even restocking the Mantis' Pantry became risky, making even you break a sweat at some points until today.

BD one day pulled you aside, shortly before you went into the next one headfirst. Anything to not hear his potentially real screams. Anything to not remember what he got himself into by something he must've witnessed, something that broke his beliefs...

'Kyra, you can't just keep going like that! You're not immortal, you're not indestructible! She's using you like some kind of slave!'

That word.

Slave.

When he told you his opinion, the fact that he, as a Droid, saw you being treated like a slave to get her closer to her seemingly endless mission's goal. It coerced the first different to usual reaction from you since Cal disappeared. It was…realization. But your reaction was too mild, in BD's optics. He expected you to get at least a bit angry, not to just...take that fact and just live along with it! Not after what your kind went through! That was the first time you also witnessed BD actually becoming angry, not the pouty childish kind either.

But you no longer had the energy left to waste on showing any up front strong emotions, reserving that small bit of energy that you somehow recharged by minimal eye rest at night – and endlessly re-viewing Cal's last message – to not get caught lacking during the missions.

Natural surprise and shock were the furthest you came usually.

Unfortunately the planet you had to go to, you had to leave the Mantis before it landed, that way it reduced the danger of being spotted a bit. But it was during a storm, Cere of course was under the assumption that the mission was under heavy time pressure, like usually – not even letting you have enough time anymore to admire the landscape with exhausted and hurried glances left and right – meaning you couldn't wait out the storm front.

The difference of pressure immediately forced the outside air into the ship once the door had been lowered, resulting in you having to squint and block the cutting gusts from your face to even make out your supposed landing spot.

An industrial town below the storm clouds, shown to you on your wrist comm. It was a gift from Cal, but it was too new to catch the frequency the Mantis is on anymore, so you had never been able to use it that much. That way it looked still almost pristine against your old bulky normal comm link.

But the map worked quite well on it.

"Okay, you know what you're supposed to do. Somewhere in this town there is supposedly a force sensitive child, under secret identity and unaware adoptive parents. If we can believe that insider from our Informant…"

A force sensitive child, just like that? You still doubted that, even after reading the note they slipped into your hands back in that dusty and musty Cantina on Jakku. It sounded too good to be true but Cere immediately jumped onto the opportunity, absolutely blinded by the idea of a potential new Jedi to train. After all, it wasn't her possibly getting ambushed if said Informant was luring you into a trap.

You nod, waiting for BD to join you on your back, something that gives you once more flashbacks to Cal. BD was supposed to sit on his back, he was supposed to be his companion. Now you have to suffice, knowing you're never going to be able to replace Cal for him. And you didn't want to either...

His owner wouldn't no longer be the same at this point, probably even trained to either destroy BD or to extract any useful information left on him.

You wouldn't even have batted an eye at the mod on the ground, focused on trying to not get detected by Security Droids that roamed a Droid Wrecking Yard you had been in for a mission. But BD actually made you look at it, he wanted you to install it on him in case he ever needed to defend himself.

Odd enough, Cere didn't stop BD from being on your back during flight anymore. You had recently installed a small new mod you found, formerly constructed to be used on old Republic era Delivery Droids. It was a non-lethal shock module that the Droids can use in cases of self defense, since Delivery Droids were often also ambushed and got their Deliveries stolen.

Something he never had brought up as a possible problem or even fear of his before, but you didn't question it either way, for the same reasons as before.

The shock mod might be the reason Cere no longer really wanted to grab after BD, since he once ever so proudly showed off his new "skill" to the crew after you haphazardly added it during another sleepless night. Cal was a thousand times better at fixing BD or adding new mods for his liking, but in…in a time of unexpected need, you could also do such jobs. Cal had shown you enough basic things about BD's maintenance, giving you enough knowledge to keep the little Droid running.

The wind whipped against your hardened skin, cold currents giving you uncomfortable shivers as you began to break through the cloud barrier, beginning to slowly break your fall with your wings, unfurling them from their rested position on your back. With a small passenger like BD – who couldn't even hold on that tightly, even if he wanted to, which he did – you couldn't just do it in one swift go like you're used to doing it, the near instant deceleration could – and has already – catapult him right off of you.

The sky no longer felt as relaxing as it once did, you noted a while ago as well. Flying took an unusual amount of energy from you by now, but maybe you only realize that now because you didn't have as much left to waste as two months ago. You basically constantly run on your own inner emergency generator, adrenaline on missions keeping you from falling over, drained of everything you had to spare.

And in the night it was the panic and the fear you no longer managed to show during the waking hours, that kept you awake and running. Against your will partially, but at least you didn't have to face your nightmares that way.

You're just about to reach the last mile off ground when you suddenly notice the few goosebumps and hairs you could have on your scaled body stand on end, like early stage frostbite. In the first moment you were about to question what your body even dared to react to. Then it hit you.

His scent.

It was all over the town below you.

Cal…Cal was on the planet or at least has been in the last few hours, it was still strong enough for you to take notice of it even subconsciously all the way up here.

Him being here, not on some Imperial Ship floating in where-ever-the-kark-Space, it had to mean one thing…that he was finished with getting conditioned.

Meaning, even if you did find Cal by following the trail he clearly unknowingly leaves wherever he went and left, he would no longer be the Cal you once knew. The Cal you love. For you, it could never turn into past tense – despite the atrocities he could by now be causing on the daily – but you knew he probably would no longer love you back...

They, without doubt, must have replaced these thoughts with nothing but hate for you, blinded his once free thoughts. So he could become a better hunter for them.

Despite that knowledge, something that seemed so obvious to you at the moment, you deviate from your supposed landing spot, letting your instincts guide you, continuing to glide low above ground as they follow an apparently very clear path. All the way into the mountains, up a fresh water stream.

The air was a lot clearer and fresher in the mountains of this planet than above the towns and settlements, known for producing Mechanical parts. So for the first time in a too long while, you actually had a thought of actual peace in your overstuffed cranium. A rare occasion of clarity...

And that was what made you suddenly stop in your instinctual path.

'Is everything alright, Kyra?'

Nothing was alright, BD…and you still couldn't find your past inner strength to actively tell him that. So you shake your head. You didn't lie, not to him. Just like Cal was, was he also the last true current in your life, your pathetic, wasted life that seemed to crack and break more and more with every year spent in the Galaxy.

You…you didn't train all your life...just to become the mindless and voiceless slave of a woman that only saw her mission…

And yet here you are, letting yourself get kicked around…because what else could you do? Run away? In your seriously lousy condition and stronger than ever nightmares, you'd become sick and soon after…turn up dead, not waking up one morning.

Then, even the last one of your kind would have died, having left nothing of worth or legacy but failure to tell about on her path that led up to this miserable end. Born a slave…died a slave.

'You're crying again...'

So you were, what of it…

'You sensed Cal, didn't you?' Not sensed. Smelled. Far more personal…far more accurate than any kind of ability to sense the Force in an individual.

But BD reminded you of your reason you're even here in this mountain range. Cal.

Even if…even if was no longer himself, you…you had to at least see him one last time! Even if he would most likely attack you…you had to see him.

You had to see the reason why you kept going, even after you were at rock bottom five months ago…

Your mate. Your everything.

Even if that everything had been changed and probably killed, replaced by a stranger that looked like him, sounded like him…smelled like him.

With every covered mile, the trail got stronger and so did your sudden fear. While you did want to see him again and you alreasy expected the worst…you weren't sure you still had the actual energy left for an encounter with him, face to face.

Yet with the knowledge that he would most likely not stay here for long, you had to act, fear or not.

'There. I can see it!'

BD saw it before you did, the Ship was just about to land as well. Inside it was the person you ran away from about two and a half months ago, too shocked about his sudden…change…to stay even a second longer.

But now…you can't immediately run from your fears again.

Just one last time…

You carefully circled the ship from above, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come, hearing BD encouragingly beep at you. Like he could feel your tenseness. Even your beating wings felt stiffer than usual as you finally started to descend.

This time, there were no Stormtroopers outside yet since the ship obviously landed just now, leaving your trembling self all alone without a chance to let off "steam"...or anxiety, much more likely in your case. Hot steam produced by your lungs left the side of your mouth and nostrils as you got more uneasy by the second. It's feeling wrong again. Like something was off again, like back then.

And your senses have never been wrong before!

You're just about to abort your "mission" to return to the banthashit Cere wanted you to do for her today, hoping they mysteriously hadn't noticed you yet. But the hiss of the huge, familiar door opening once again froze you to the spot.

Two and half months ago you were in the same spot. Back then, he hadn't been reconditioned yet. Back then, he still had been your Cal. Back then he wouldn't have attacked you.

When you saw how he looked now though, all these doubts you had…

They got stronger.

He was dressed in black, red lines on the sides of his Imperial suit, a chest plate on top of everything. His old brown boots had been replaced by cold looking black leather boots. At the side of his new, unfamiliar pants he had a lightsaber, the only thing familiar about his appearance. But it wasn't his lightsaber anymore, this one was black and clearly a double bladed one by the length of it…

They had changed him…so much…

And yet, from the first glance you had stolen at his face, he still…he still looked like the day you lost him, minus the green eyes. He still had his lovely freckles, the scars across his face and the apparently still slightly chapped lips.

You're too caught off guard with his seeing that his overall appearance didn't change, to even register that he was coming closer.

Coming closer way too quickly–

Please…any way…but not by his hands!

___________________

[capricornus-rex]

Okay so maybe a fic where Cal keeps having nightmares and visions when he meditates of the reader dying and the events leading up to her death. He starts being really protective and the reader tries to reassure him shes fine. But on a mission things start happening that he saw in the visions before the reader dies and gets really on edge. You can decide how it ends, aka reader dying in cals arms to make me cry or him saving her to also make me cry! Sorry if this is too much!!💕

Hi there~! I think I used too much of my liberty to make this as angsty as I can 😅 Either way, I hope I was able to make you shed a tear with this fic request at least once. And never worry, it’s not too much! 💕

“What You Fear To Lose” | Cal Kestis x Reader

Tags: Near-death! Reader

Next: Part 2 | Masterlist

1 of 3

Cal… It hurts so much…

I don’t think I can anymore…

I just can’t…

“No!” Cal jolted up, beads of sweat riddled his chest and neck.

In the bed opposite of his is you, sleeping deeply and peacefully. From that narrow distance between beds, he studied your relaxed features, moonlight radiated over your skin—highlighting the secretive shadows of your collarbones and the slight twitching of your eyelashes. Cal stood up and pulled the blanket up until your bosom before retiring to bed.

The waking image of you is a complete contrast to the visions he sees in his dreams.

And it worried him.

At face value, everything was fine—at least for you and everyone else.

It was only a dream. Cal consoled himself in his mind.

Today was going smoothly and normally as it should in Ryloth. With very little to do and go about, you made yourselves busy in the hideout called the Mound; from the outside, it looked like one big hill, but the inside was a literal labyrinth—paths branching out and connecting with one another. The Twi’leks knew the place like the back of their hand.

For your sake, you, Cal, and the others remained in the easy parts of the hideout.

“Cal?” you called, “Are you okay? You seem a little off today.”

“Am I? Maybe I haven’t been getting enough sleep,”

“Bed too lumpy to for you?” a half-hearted joke repaid with a weak chuckle.

It was evident that Cal was going through something and you wanted to help him. Looking around, there isn’t much to do—you’re practically sitting in the middle of a rock wasteland with just a Separatist base retrofitted into the Empire’s fashion. The most anybody could do—except the fighters who were busy planning out their attack—is help with the refugees, tending to the sick ones, handing over food and drink to them since they were lodged in the upper floor.

The Twi’leks whom you offered help to politely refused, saying that they didn’t want to use your energy for that day, even if you said you could easily regain it with a single good night’s sleep. There was no point in insisting though.

“Hey Cal, you up for saber practice today?”

He managed a smile, the first smile he’s made today, “Sure.”

The two of you found a good place to practice—one of the chambers inside the Mound. It was an empty room and no possessions or other things the rebels might need are stashed there.

“This looks okay,” you commented, gently twirling about, gendering at the spaciousness of the room and the height of the ceiling; it was also well-lit, given the number of holes in the wall varying in sizes acting as windows.

Cal watched you spinning around the room to get a sense of space—not just spinning in one place, but actually circling the room—he smiled to himself when he witnessed your carefree spirit showing itself, but it followed with the heaviness in his heart, a sharp pang jabs him at the temples, white lights transitioned into bleak images before his eyes.

It’s the same images from his dream.

“Cal?” you run up to him massaging the side of his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just… I suddenly got dizzy there.”

“We could do this some other time, if you’re not feeling well, you know,”

“No, really,” he insisted. “I’m okay.”

You tilted your head, an expression that translates to “Are you sure?”

He insisted once more and positioned himself in a stance. Minutes later, he was back to normal, he was able to perform his usual tricks in dueling. He was still the little show-off, even in sparring practice, but you matched up to his tempo pretty quickly.

“Where did you pick that up?” you bantered while your blades were crossed together.

“Something I made up just now!”

“Don’t go easy on me then!”

You didn’t let him outshine you—both of you were like that to each other—and sometimes, your own prowess shines at the same time as his. The adrenaline in both of you kept pumping, making you seek the thrill of duel which wasn’t due until tomorrow. It was enough of a workout, Cham Syndulla’s words of “Save your strength!” has been beaten into your heads for the past few days. Understandably so, it was a rebellion—it meant a great deal not just for Cham but for his own family and people.

“You sure don’t hold back even in practice, do you?” you chuckled, wiping the sweat off your brow with your sleeve.

“You weren’t so bad yourself!”

Cal wished that the day doesn’t go on anymore. He just wants it to spend the day with you. He wondered if it was the perfect opportunity for him to finally say it—after getting constantly coaxed by Merrin and pestered by Greez to “just do it.”

While catching your breaths inside that empty chamber somewhere in the Mound, it was only the two of you inside, sitting next to each other in the stillness of the room.

“I wonder if the moon ever lines up to that hole in the ceiling,” you thought out loud, it was an innocent thought, however, it was still endearing to Cal.

He turned to you, your head tilting up while resting against the wall, staring at that orifice in the ceiling. He examined your expression—curious and filled with wonderment—and watched the way your eyes shift slightly from left to right from one hole in the wall to the other.

A part of him is basically shoving him by the back to tell it to you already, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to say it. There was the hesitation he can’t fight off. He knows he’ll have to say it sooner or later.

He lets off a chuckle after your thought.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you have the cutest thoughts,”

“What? I was just wondering if the moon ever shows up above that hole!”

He tousled the top of your hair, letting more stray strands to fall out of place in that neat ponytail. As revenge, you ruffled his hair with both hands—as opposed to him doing it one-handed—and the slicked-back top of his hair transformed into fringes that draped his forehead.

The hair-ruffling eventually evolved into tickling. Cal quickly got you pinned to the ground, his finger wiggled and poked across your ribs and sides, while you couldn’t even get a single jab at him.

“Alright, I yield!” you burst laughing.

You pushed him off of you until the two of you are already lying flat on the ground. The noise of the laughter has subsided until all that could be heard in the sound of the draft whistling through the windows.

Cal’s eyes never left you.

He carefully pondered and considered whom to confide this to. Obviously, he wanted to leave you out of it—he doesn’t want the worry to overtake you, even if you shrug it off as first. The next reasonable person would be the one who would have had these sorts of dream at a certain point in time.

“Dreams? What kind of dreams, Cal?”

“Nightmares, Cere,”

“And what do they contain? Can you make out some images?”

“Pain, desperation…” He sighed. “Death.”

Cere’s eyes searched the cramped interior of the Mantis. Your voice caught her attention, you were busy studying the data from BD-1’s memory bank from the couch by the holotable. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots. She turned back to Cal and upon seeing his expression, the former Jedi truly understood.

“You’re afraid,” Cere pointed out. “You’re afraid that these dreams might become reality.”

“Honestly, Cere, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“And what do you propose to do?”

“I… I’ll just have to protect her,”

Cere released a resigned sigh, she didn’t think that she and Cal would have this talk sooner that she’d hoped.

“And how far do you think your protection will take her?”

Cal reflected on that question for a long time. Cere didn’t require an immediate answer, she wanted him to understand the depth of his resolve. She left the boy to his solitude and he retired to the bedroom in the ship to further meditate on his answer—the real answer lying in the recesses of his mind.

Explosions.

The floor crumbling beneath the feet.

“Please hold on!”

“Cal… Leave me… you have to go…”

More images and voices. Indications of the same premonition, now more lucid before his eyes.

Just when Cal thought he would get at least a fragment of closure in his meditation, it seems that it only amplified the gravity of his dreams.

[capricornus-rex]

Perseverance Over Pride (2 - End)

Requested by: @stellar-trinity​ | Prompt:

Hey Hon! I was wondering if you could do a request? No rush on this one :) I will say this one is a bit personal bc I tend to do this A LOT 😅 Cal comforting the reader after being hard on herself? Maybe the reader was working on Cal’s saber, ends up breaking it more (unintentionally) and once everyone is asleep, she locks herself in her own room and cries? Thanks hon! 🥺💖

Tags: Self-doubting! Reader

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Oh no… No, no… NO! Your mind, anxious and panicked, screamed. You wanted to let the words out but you can’t because it’ll alarm the crew.

You covered your mouth with your entire hand, bottling up all of the emotions that’s thrashing and storming inside your core right now.

“No… That’s impossible! What went wrong?!” you gasped, the weapon shook in your trembling hand.

You set it down on the workbench again. You don’t know what to do first: tear it apart again and redo everything or mentally assess what steps you could’ve possibly mixed up. Though, to save your pride, you didn’t do the latter.

You were back to where you started—taking it apart piece by piece, except with the newly-replaced parts this time. You examined and inspected every single component that you’ve detached from the very structure of the saber and looked for possible errors.

Blinded by confusion, you can’t seem to find what’s wrong. Everything seemed to be in place. You can’t pinpoint what you may have overlooked. You repeated everything you did—and perhaps adjusting a little bit of the parts in each step—and then tested the ignition again.

The result remained the same: a short-lived flicker of the blade.

You couldn’t control yourself when you flung your fist to the workbench, hoping nobody from outside heard that—which they obviously did—you jerked your hand away and rubbed the sore part; all of a sudden, your heart felt heavy, your stomach churned, and your breathing was shaky and rapid.

“What’s the matter with me?”

Trying to relax even felt tedious. The doubt in your conscience was beginning to chew its way into you, but your fought it off along with the words that were gradually forming in your mind—the words that you dread to hear, even if it was just in your imagination.

Nothing.

There was no concentration, no calmness… nothing.

Your mind was in a total disarray.

“This is bad,” you muttered fearfully.

You examined the disassembled lightsaber again, thought long and hard as you stared at it, and then wagered which of the new parts must be replaced to better, functioning ones. The next places that could possibly have some components are the Imperial station near the weathered monument and the ice caves. Asking Greez to take the Mantis to Coruscant is the farthest stretch of an option, so you put that as the last resort—even if the Jedi Temple has the best selection of parts, albeit abandoned.

“It’s highly likely graverobbers have looted the temple though,” you assessed.

Afraid to show your face, and scared to be incapable of answering Cal’s questions about his lightsaber, you couldn’t dare to step out of the room—though you badly need to if you want to get your components. You took a deep breath as if preparing yourself to speed through a row of Auger pulverizers, you rehearsed your general response if ever Cal asks, and coached yourself to keep your eyes on the door.

“Okay, just waltz out. Don’t maintain eye contact, eyes on the door. Just say you’re going out to get more parts, and that’s it. Simple.”

The line became your mantra in the next three minutes. Afterwards, you pulled yourself together and followed your mantra physically to a tee.

“I’m going out again, just need more parts,”

You practically ate your words as you briskly walked past Cal sitting on the couch with Cere in the middle of a hallikset lesson. The two Jedi followed you with their eyes until you disappeared out of the ship. Cal was able to sense something from you, it was faint yet noticeable; he contemplated whether to bring it up to you or wait and see if it would worsen or subside.

You gave the shed on the edge of the landing pad a try, but it turned out to be a disappointment when it was just crates of the same materials as the ones in the derelict hangar; and so off you go to where you needed to be.

You take the shortcut at the turbine facility leading out to the ice slide before the weathered monument. You surprisingly mowed down the dispatched unit of Stormtroopers just on the other side of that blaster door.

“Okay, gotta get to that station fast,” you tell yourself.

You’ve reached your destination: the Imperial command center with a landing platform. You had hoped that with a station this big, you hoped you’d find something worth of all this short trip.

You took every Stormtrooper stationed there singlehandedly by surprise; banking their shots right back at them until all that remains is the black R2 unit strolling across the metal halls.

Now that you’re in the clear, you scoured all of the supply crates that you can find, taking apart the control panels and power terminals for possible substitutes, and even harvesting the parts of a Stormtrooper’s blaster and a Scout Trooper’s staff. By sheer luck, the staff ran on a diatium power cell and prayed that this could be your key to actually fixing the saber.

When you got back, you came in with such a burst that the crew just watched you speed past them. Understandably so, you were too indulged in getting that lightsaber fixed—but they don’t know that you’re protecting your ugly secret of busting it a second time after the Jotaz did.

Cal walked in on you and found you on your second attempt.

“[y/n]?”

You jumped, startled by the softest call of your name.

“You startled me right there!” you gasped, clutching on your chest while sucking in air.

“Oh sorry, I figured you didn’t hear me the first time so I went closer. Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you tried to hide the saber by blocking his view of it with your back. “Look, it’s not ready yet. I thought I finished it but turns out I had to do it again. I… I’m still fitting the power cells underneath the sleeve of the second saber.”

“Look, I’m more worried about you than the saber itself. Could you please do me a favor and don’t stress out on this? Like I said: don’t rush on this.”

“I’m sorry, I… I suppose I just got a bit worked up. Won’t rest until the job’s done—force of habit.”

He raised his lips to your forehead.

“Well, there’s no need to be worked up, okay?”

You nodded and replied in a hushed tone. He dismissed himself, saying Cere owes him another hour of hallikset lessons, and then walked out of the bedroom, leaving you again with his busted saber and in your solitude.

More hours have passed, at this point in time, your confidence has deteriorated. While the power-related parts—namely the diatium power cell, conductor, power vortex ring, and inert power insulator—were finally replaced with the whole, new ones supplied by your inventory and the ones you’ve picked up, it appeared that they weren’t the answers to your question.

You repeated again, tweaking some of the parts that you assumed could have gone wrong.

The same feeling that you had on the first attempt return—only this time, it was five times worse on the third and fourth tries. You wished that you knew what the problem was.

“No… NO!” you growled, pounding the edge of the worktable out of frustration. The force of your outburst was so strong that you managed to make the thin pipe railings creak.

The crew kept it quiet between one another whenever they would hear one of your outbursts: the grunts, startled cries, and groans of frustration. An hour later, you were still stuck in the loop of trying to figure out the mistake. Cal decided to pull you away from that spiraling mess you’ve gotten into.

“[y/n]…?” he called as he knocked. “Dinner’s ready. Are you coming?”

“N-No, Cal… I… I’m not hungry,” you spoke to him through the sealed door, your voice is muffled but still coherent. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Sorry, Cal. Please, I just want some time alone to finish this,”

“Alright then. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Oh… okay. Thanks, Cal…”

Cal appeared out of the small annex to join the crew at the dinner table. Cere started to get worried when he appeared without you.

“Where’s [y/n]?”

He repeated your reason to everyone as he took his seat. There was awkward air that somehow exuded the empty chair next to Cal—where you usually sit.

Cal left some food for you and personally put them away on his own after dinner. Cere watched him prepare your serving in case you finally decide to come out of the room and eat, as he sealed off the food container, she confronted him gently.

“Cal, is [y/n] okay? She’s been acting… unusual lately. She’s been locked up in your room for hours now and missed dinner. The last time we saw her outside that room is when she came to scavenge for spare parts.”

“Something’s off about her ever since the last time she went out. She didn’t even open the door to talk to me, she just spoke through the door. I didn’t think that she’d put that much pressure on herself to repair my lightsaber… but now I do.”

“Go talk to her. I am absolutely sure she needs it,” Cere clapped him on the shoulder before retreating to the cockpit.

While they were eating, you have already gone through your fifth attempt. You’ve given up in the middle of the sixth try and ended up sitting on the floor, hugging your knees, and just succumb to crying. When Cal got close enough, he could hear you weeping in the room and that further confirmed his presumption about you.

He knocked on the door again, calling your name.

“Come on, I saved you some dinner,” he coaxed. “Greez made your favorite.”

“Please just… go away, Cal…” you replied.

Cal noticed the change of tone in your voice and the sniffles.

“No, I won’t,”

The two of you conversed with a sealed blast door in the middle. You wanted it that way because you didn’t want him to see the teary-eyed mess that you are and his still-busted lightsaber.

“Look, I couldn’t fix your lightsaber; I could have broken it but not on purpose—you should be hating me right now!”

“I don’t hate you,” he coolly said. “I could never hate you.”

There was no response from your end at the door, you buried your face in your knees in shame, letting tears pool on your pant legs in the process. He decided to open the door via the control keypad on his side. When the door whizzed open, he saw you curled up on the floor by the workbench; you didn’t look to him when he got in.

“Oh, [y/n]…” he purred, sitting on the floor and then taking you into his arms.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could do it…!” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to break it, honest. I really wanted to fix it but I just couldn’t… I thought I could!”

He shushed. He rested his cheek over your head after kissing your forehead. “Please don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I was too afraid to ask help from you…” you hiccupped. “I was afraid you’d think of me as incompetent.”

“Aww, no,” he cooed. “Baby, no—I’d never think of you as something like that! What made you think that?”

“Cal, look at me: I’m a Jedi who can’t fix a lightsaber! I’m the perfect definition of that word. What else would I call myself if I’m incapable of rebuilding the most vital part of a Jedi?”

He cradled your head to his chest and allowed you to let it all out whether through tears or lashing out.

“You know, back in Dathomir—when I was opening the door to the Tomb of Kujet—I got myself into a Force vision,”

You listened, prompting him to continue with soft grunts.

“Master Tapal was standing there in front of me. When he saw that I didn’t fight back, he said something to me,”

“What was that?” you asked, your voice has calmed down and the sobbing hiccups have gotten lesser.

“He told me that persistence reveals the path. And you know what I’ve gotten from that?”

You look up at him to find sincere eyes staring back lovingly at you and a small yet reassuring smile. The word “What?” was a mere blow of air between your lips when you urged him to continue.

“When failure hasn’t deterred you from trying again and again, no matter how many times,” he spoke as he stroked your hair. “You’ll find your answer at the end of the path sooner than you think.”

“But I’m afraid. I’m afraid to fail… like I always have been, secretly.”

“But have you really given up?”

Your eyes wandered blankly into space, pondering on his question as well as your own answer—the true answer. Your eyebrows furrowed as you somberly reflected upon it. In response, you shake your head. You promptly stood up from the floor, Cal followed and stood by your side; you let him watch you work and to his surprise, you’ve picked up a soldering iron you found back in the Imperial command center.

From time to time, he would help out in certain parts of rebuilding it—handing out the parts and components that you need, giving you an extra hand when needing to hold something really still until you’ve perfectly fitted it into place as well as helping with a few of the trickier steps in the procedure.

The last part of fixing it was refitting the blade energy chamber—the narrow tube that bridges the kyber crystal and the emitter—and when you presume everything is finally done, Cal let you do the honors of meditating once more on the lightsaber.

“Go on,” he coaxed. “Relax and concentrate.”

“Okay…”

It may not be yours, indeed, but your connection with Cal—that you have unconsciously overlooked and shut out this whole time—was soothing the whole time up until this very moment. For a moment, that anxiety that was flooding your entire being was gone and all you could think of was thoughts that signify tranquility: the waterfalls, the sunrise at Bogano, the empty abode, and even an image of Cal himself.

Click…

Your heart skipped a beat when you hear that tiniest of sounds. You fought off the hesitation of opening your eyes. In face value, the lightsaber looked normal. You stared blankly at it, not even realizing that your hand was gravitating to it; once again, your fingers clamped around the handle and lifted it up from the workbench placemat. You shoot a look at Cal.

“Together?”

He placed his hand over your hand, his thumb over yours on the switch.

“Together.”

He squeezed on your thumb downwards, subsequently doubling onto the pressure applied on the switch button. A sharp buzz snarled out of the polished hilt. Cal removed his hand from the hilt and stood back, while examining the beam of light that shone in the room. You exchanged glances with him, you swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, and your heart was pounding that you couldn’t catch up with your breathing. Steadily, you waved the weapon around the small space where you stood.

More than ten seconds have passed and the blade of light didn’t die out. Your official sixth attempt finally was a success!

You exhaled laughingly. Finally! You thought. We did it!

You looked over the blade and found Cal smiling with a sense of pride in you. You pressed the switch again and the blade retracted back into the emitter to set it down on the workbench. You hopped toward Cal and—in an uncontrollable urge—threw yourself in his arms.

“We did it!” you beamed, relieved and happy.

“But you did most of the work, I only helped on the sidelines,”

“Don’t be silly. Well… I was silly myself,” you shrugged. “I guess I had too much pride earlier. Thanks, Cal, you’ve helped me a whole lot—more than enough, in fact.”

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, apologizing thereafter.

“It’s okay, sweetie, rest as much as you need. I’ll be here,” Cal planted another kiss on your head as he cradled you like a baby, trapping you in an embrace as your puffy eyes felt heavy. He continued to stroke your hair until you drifted off to sleep. “I’ll always be here. I promise.”