#Inquisitor Cal x You

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

The Way He Looks at You Series I:I

Act I: The Way He Looks at You Chapter 1: The Way He Looks at You

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Chapter Summary

After being dumped by your Jedi boyfriend, you accidentally bump into Inquisitor Cal Kestis, the Thirteenth Brother. He takes an interest in you and intends to give you what you desire most. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.7K

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

You are shuffling through a city on Coruscant, attempting to find relief in the crowded marketplace. Having fled your work at the nearby Rebellion safe house, you had walked until ending up here. It’s always been dangerous working right under the nose of the Empire, but it became lucrative to have a few soldiers at ground zero.

Your eyes are tired from all the crying, and you can barely pay attention as you walk down the dirty streets. Normally, showing weakness in public would humiliate you, but right now, it doesn’t feel like it matters if people see you at your worst. Nothing can cause more distress than the pain in your chest.

You had woken up this morning believing your life to be moving in a positive direction. It took six months of going steady, and two years of pretending not to flirt while on various missions together. But you had finally gone all the way with your boyfriend, thinking things could only get better.

You’re one hell of a pilot; and had a knack for knowing exactly where to be to get your teammates out of particularly sticky situations. It made you valuable to the Rebellion; it allowed you to meet Theo.

He fell for you during your first mission together, but rejected his feelings. You’re pretty, but that isn’t enough to pull a Jedi. Theo’s initial attraction to you ensured more opportunities to work together; he found any excuse to assign you as the pilot for his missions.

You were immediately smitten as well and struggled to resist his natural charm. Emoting your feelings was second nature, which makes it easy to flirt when you find someone attractive. You were confident in your ability to get boyfriends, but meeting Theo caused you to stumble. You lost your confidence with flirting and instead let him lead. Jedi had been off limits before the purge and you had lived under the assumption that this was still true. You weren’t willing to risk losing him by pushing your luck.

When speaking to Theo, you carefully monitored your words, but never fretted your actions. Conveniently, you were always available to help him with any task. You also kept a first aid pack on your ship at all times, trying desperately to be the one to bandage his wounds. It meant one-on-one time where you had an excuse to touch him and listen to his stories. The conversations quickly became more friendly. You would giggle at his jokes and he would try to impress you with his tales. You hated to see him hurt, but found yourself disappointed when he came back unscathed.

You accidentally showed that disappointment after a mission when he excitedly let you know that he finally made it back without a single injury. While you said nothing incriminating, you felt your expression drop and Theo noticed it as well.

He later tapped you on the shoulder during the journey home and asked if you could look at his finger. Claiming that he didn’t feel any pain when he first got back on the ship but he was feeling an ache now. You both knew it was a lie, but you wrapped his finger anyway while he watched and talked about the events of the day.

He was so handsome it made it difficult to stay focused on your work. His features never failed to captivate you; he had dark messy hair and gray eyes that pulled you in. It didn’t hurt that he also had a charming, boyish smile and always looked right at you when he spoke. He made you feel special during those times, like everything he said was only to pull a reaction only from you.

The longer the two of you worked together, the more you needed him like air. Everyone else realized how inseparable you both had become, but you knew nothing could result from it. He was always loyal to the Jedi Code, and you understood he could not form attachments.

Theo surprised you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. He did it during one of your many first aid sessions. He had been silent while you tended to the cut on his arm, prompting you to ask if he was okay. Theo paused for a moment, then suggested the possibility of dating. There was conflict in his eyes when he asked, however, you both agreed to try the relationship. You were over the moon, but he seemed reserved in his decision.

Your relationship lacked most physical intimacy, but you were happy just to belong to him. The two of you kissed from time to time, but Theo always cut the sessions short before they could lead anywhere. Despite your disappointment, you respected his decision to take things slowly until yesterday.

You had intentionally been wearing rather revealing clothing on your day off with him. You couldn’t help it. He was so good looking that you wanted more. Maybe not sex, but more than kissing. You just wanted him to desire you the way you desired him. The blue shirt you chose was low cut, showing off your ample cleavage. You had paired it with a black skirt that hit above your knees. You spent the day with Theo, teasing him relentlessly but acting innocent the entire time.

It was so easy to just bend over right in front of him while picking something up, allowing your skirt to rise a couple of inches. When you stood back up, holding whatever object you had pretended to care about, his face had become flushed and his mouth hung open.

During lunch, you had placed your hands in your lap to push your breasts together while he spoke. Tilting your head to the side while listening to him tell a story from a recent mission. You didn’t miss how he glanced down and stumbled over his words, needing a moment to regather his thoughts before continuing the tale.

You even squeezed past him when he was standing in a tight area of his kitchen. There was nothing you needed on the other side of his body, but you found something to pretend to grab, just so you could rub your ass against the front of his trousers. You had felt how stiff he already was for you, but ignored it, or at least acted like you didn’t notice. He had released the tiniest exhale at the touch, a small gasp showing his inability to fully resist his desire.

It was enough. When you kissed him goodnight before leaving to go back to your own place, he wasn’t ready to stop. He had pulled you flush against his body, something he hadn’t done previously while kissing. It became obvious why he had always kept space between your bodies. His arousal was apparent. It was hard not to rub against it, but you didn’t want to risk scaring him off, so you let Theo lead.

He guided you back into his bedroom without coming up for air. However, he broke the kiss to ask permission before removing each article of your clothing. He removed them all, and you had never felt more beautiful in that moment. The way he observed your body was far superior to any of the times he watched you when he spoke. His hungry gaze and small smile could make anyone feel like the most gorgeous woman in the world.

When he took off his clothes, and you stopped breathing. He was perfect. You had seen him without a shirt from the previous times of doing his first aid. And you had definitely looked when he wasn’t paying attention. But this was nothing like those moments. Because he wanted you to look, he wanted to see how your eyes raked over his body. He watched you, wanting to see your approval and lust. He didn’t stop watching you as he slowly removed his trousers. You felt a distinct need to open your mouth when they dipped down past his hips and it slapped upwards, hitting his lower belly.

But he didn’t give you an opportunity to satisfy that craving, because he pulled you into his arms and backed you up against his bed. Wanting to get right to the main event. It made sense. It’s not like he had much experience in that realm. You thought that maybe the next time you could show him how enjoyable things could be before orgasm. But this time, you’d let him take what he needed.

The poor man barely lasted a minute, but that minute felt like heaven. Theo was needy and chasing his own pleasure. It still felt good, but it wasn’t enough to get you off. The noises he made during that minute, if only you could have recorded them. That would be the only sound you would want to hear for the rest of your life. The whimper that escaped his lips when he first entered you did something to your brain that you may never understand. His grunts in your ear as he pumped himself deep into your heat were music to your ears. You bit down on his shoulder just to hear more. His body reacted immediately to the feeling, and he groaned deep and throaty, precisely what you wanted. Only then, you realized that you accidentally pushed him over the edge.

He had collapsed onto your body, kissing your neck and collarbone repeatedly, like he was trying to thank you for allowing him to reach his peak. He rolled you both onto your sides and held you close against his chest all night, whispering sweet nothings into your hair until you both fell asleep.

Then you woke up this morning, and he wasn’t holding you anymore, he wasn’t even laying in the bed with you. Instead, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing you. Of course, you immediately asked if everything was okay, letting the sheets fall from your body. He never answered your question and only asked you to put your clothes back on so he could talk to you. It was the most humiliated you’d ever felt. You suddenly felt extremely vulnerable in your nakedness. He wouldn’t even look at you, as if ashamed at the thought of even viewing your unclothed body. The body that he had been so eager to see, and touch, and be inside of was suddenly impossible for him to look at.

With your clothes on, he finally looked at you. He explained he had broken the Jedi Code, and he needed to remember the old ways and not stray from his path. There was a ringing in your ears as your mind exited your body, desperate to protect you from the hurt you both knew was coming.

Theo broke up with you, and it felt like you were watching your life get sucked away into the abyss. He stated that the two of you could no longer work together on missions, at least until this had blown over. But encouraged you to go back to Yavin 4, to continue your work with a different team. He tried to explain the Rebellion could surely use your talents elsewhere and you are a good soldier in this fight. It’s like the last six months of your relationship had never existed. The way he spoke sounded like a captain speaking to an underling; there was no familiarity.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

The emotions well up again as you remember how he looked at you. The past few years, Theo gazed at you like you were all that mattered to him. Yet today, when he looked at you, that expression had vanished. You would likely never see that look on his face again.

Hot tears pool and flood towards the quickest exit from your lower lids. The big ones fall straight from the center while the smaller ones had the courtesy to fall from the corners. You wipe them away before they hit your exposed chest. A cruel reminder that you were wearing yesterday’s clothes, and the memories stored in them.

The tears in your eyes cause your vision to blur so severely that you accidentally bump into a civilian on the street. You don’t want any trouble, so you quickly mumble out an apology. Your body gently bounces off of them and you adjust your direction so that you can try to pass without hitting them.

A hand grabs right above your elbow, not letting you pass. You feel the sense of danger, but are overall too numb to fully emote.

“You should really be more careful.” A cruel voice says, you can hear their lips curling as they speak. Alarm bells are ringing, but the shock of this morning dulls the intensity.

First, you look down at the hand, trying to process the situation. Long slender fingers curl around your arm, gripping you in place. The pale skin covered in a galaxy of freckles. You want to follow the constellations upwards, but the cuff of their black uniform prevents it.

Your heart palpitates, your eyes creeping up the sleeve, until you see it. The Inquisitor Insignia on their shoulder, right at eye level. Your gaze hesitates, denial setting into your mind, knowing what you’re seeing but not wanting to confirm your suspicions.

“I’m speaking to you.” The voice says, tightening their fingers around your upper arm.

This snaps you out of the thoughts. You look up into a pair of intense green eyes. His bright red hair and the matching stubble immediately give away the identity of this man.

Your familiarity of the Inquisitors had come from several years of working for the rebellion. Theo had even known this man before he fell to the Dark Side; they had trained together as younglings.

The Thirteenth Brother’s sharp features are menacing but beautiful. The photos you had seen didn't do him justice. He’s handsome, but his hard eyes lack mercy and it makes your whole body tremble. You can’t help but let your eyes trail over his features, especially when he stands so close and it might be the last thing you ever see. At least he’s easy on the eyes.

Your gaze traces the sharp edge of his jaw before glancing up at his well-groomed hair. As your eyes travel downward, you note the thin scar across its bridge that runs onto his right cheek. Finally, observing at his full lips and accidentally wondering what they must feel like. You didn’t think it was possible to feel so much attraction towards someone so dangerous. Something must be wrong with you.

The Thirteenth Brother snickers and uses his other hand to place a finger under your chin. Tilting your head until your eyes finally look back up into his. He has a funny expression on his face, a combination of annoyance and amusement. The left corner of his mouth raises ever so slightly.

“I haven’t heard that before.” He says.

Your eyebrows furrow, not understanding his words.

He clarifies, “Easy on the eyes.” His expression doesn’t change. He only observes your face as it flushes with realization.

You panic and quickly run through everything he might have heard in your mind: about his lips, and your attraction, and something being wrong with you. You try to clear your mind and focus on returning his stare. His eyes are fierce and focused on you, as if you are the only thing he sees at this moment.

Butterflies fill your stomach, maybe in fear, but more likely just from the excitement of being looked at this way. It’s intense and feels extremely intimate. He’s watching your every movement, like he sees you completely and wants to know more. Probably only looking at you this way because he is reading your mind. Oh no, he’s reading your mind.

You quickly drop your gaze, but he doesn’t drop your chin, so now you're back to staring at his lips by accident, but you don’t resist fantasizing about them. Your brain has given up on self preservation, too exhausted to care about the danger.

He bends down slightly, trying to lower his gaze to where you are looking, to get your attention. Your eyes refocus back on his own.

“Usually I leave others speechless from fear, but you, you don’t seem afraid in the way I prefer.” He says in a low voice, the vibrations causing you to shiver slightly. “I find you intriguing, so I’ll be keeping you.”

He leans forward, your hair catching in his stubble as his mouth reaches the shell of your ear. “Perhaps, if you’re good, I’ll permit you the feel of my lips.”

Your brain goes fuzzy between his words and the feel of his hot breath as he speaks. Honestly, his mouth may just be intoxicating. He lets out the tiniest chuckle before pulling away. He definitely heard that.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Need to Rant with Others Who Have Read This Story?

Join My Discord It's free! Members get updates, sneak peaks, bonus content, events, and countdowns to new chapters. We'd love to have you, even if you just lurk!

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Love/Like/Hate What You Read?

Comment (please!) on AO3 or Blogger Anonymous/Comment/Message/Reblog on Tumblr Compliments feed me Constructive Criticism improves me

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Next Chapter: The Way He Touches You

[weevil-wallflower]

Inquisitive Experiments

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: Cal's gaze lingered on You, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation as he contemplated the possibilities swirling in his mind. "You know," he began when You didn’t address him first, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've been thinking… We could try something different in the bedroom. Spice things up a bit."

Warnings/Tags: NSFW 18+, f!reader but no pronouns used, no use of Y/N, unprotected sex, rough rex, dom!Cal, aftercare, during/post-Jedi: Survivor, no spoilers for Jedi: Survivor.

A.N.: I began story writing once more after a long time and while my writing has been greatly improved due to studies, English is still not my first language so I'm pretty nervous. Edited it like four times... Also my very first nsfw story so might not be super good. Aaaand this was written on a whim because inspiration struck after I played the game ^_^ Gif by me!

Word Count: ~4,201

Also on AO3!

The Mantis drifted through the depths of space, its metal hull humming softly in the void. It was a quiet night— or day? Time seemed to lose its grip as the ship travelled through deep space, the clock in the kitchen the only thing that provided a schedule.

For Cal, the silence of the ship often felt suffocating, a stagnant calm that seeped into every corner. With no external stimuli to break the monotony, the hours stretched on endlessly. Despite the ever-present hum of the engines and occasional beeps of the consoles, the silence weighed heavy on the redhead’s shoulders.

In moments like these, Cal couldn't help but feel a sense of restlessness growing inside him. Always a man of action, the absence of excitement or activity left him yearning for something more, anything to disrupt the monotonous rhythm of ship life. To him, the quietness of the Mantis wasn't just peaceful—it was downright boring. The extreme restlessness he felt only worsened upon seeing You relaxed on the sofa, looking content as You were absorbed in a holobook.

Meanwhile, in the quiet of the ship's charging station, BD-1 lay idle. Only Cal and You remained aboard, while the rest of the crew was scattered across different planets. The original plan to meet an informant on Zeffo was quickly abandoned when the seemingly shifty Twi'lek changed course, opting for Felucia instead. This unexpected detour promised to stretch their journey twofold, a deviation that typically wouldn't faze Cal, seasoned as he was in flying the Mantis solo for nearly half a decade. However, this only made him feel more tense, his mind working in overdrive to think of all the possible ways their informant may be scheming to lead them astray or worse.

You on the other hand, felt excitement surge within You as Cal's gaze bore into You from behind, even without relying on the Force to confirm it. Standing next to the ship's kitchen counter, his intense gaze, hidden beneath the cascade of his fiery hair that he'd allowed to grow past his ears, was undeniably fixed on your form. It sparked a flutter of anticipation, prompting a subtle shift in your posture as You switched to a new page, pretending to be absorbed in your holobook.

As the stillness persisted, Cal's restlessness reached its peak. Meditation crossed his mind momentarily but he decided he would rather spend time with You. You were right there, ripe for the taking. Hence, with measured steps, he walked closer to where You sat on the curved sofa, lost in the pages of your holobook. Towering over You, his presence loomed large, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the dim light of the small lounge area.

Cal's gaze lingered on You, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation as he contemplated the possibilities swirling in his mind. "You know," he began when You didn’t address him first, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've been thinking... We could try something different in the bedroom. Spice things up a bit."

You glanced up from your holobook, your eyes widening in surprise at Cal's unexpected proposal. "Something new... in the bedroom?" You echoed, the words hanging in the air between you both, laden with both curiosity and budding excitement.

Cal nodded, a slight flush coloring his cheeks with excitement as he ventured further into uncharted territory. "You know, like roleplay or maybe even some light bondage," he suggested, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down his spine at the mere thought of it. So far, the two of you have only been engaging in activities that can be considered… vanilla, so to speak. Not that Cal disliked it— Anything with You involved got his blood pumping. But he was craving something new.

"Cal...!" You giggled, unable to contain your surprise at his bold suggestion. "This is so unlike you! What's the special occasion?" Your voice laced with amusement and intrigue, wondering what had sparked this sudden desire for experimentation by the usually reserved Jedi.

"Just felt like doing something different," Cal said, taking a seat next to You. "And besides, I've seen how you respond to certain things... I can tell it turns you on." His calloused hand reached out to caress your cheek gently, his green eyes full of desire.

"Oh, yeah?" You breathed out, leaning into his warm touch, savouring the sensation. "What kind of things do I respond to?" You asked, your voice tinged with curiosity, eager to hear his answer.

"Powerful gestures," Cal whispered, his other hand slowly sliding down to your waist, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "The way you moan when I take control," he continued, his voice low and husky with desire. Leaning in closer, his lips brushed against your earlobe, sending a thrill coursing through You. "I want to hear more of those sounds," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, igniting a fire within You.

Unable to believe how the typically kind and shy Jedi had suddenly become so assertive, You couldn't help but giggle nervously, your laughter betraying a mix of excitement. You rested your hands on his shoulders, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch as You pressed your soft breasts against his chest, the closeness between you both heightening the tension in the air.

Cal's heart raced at the sensation of your breasts pressing against him, a surge of gratitude flooding through him for having someone like You in his life. "I want to make love to you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a raw intensity that mirrored the passion igniting between them. 

The redhead then closed his eyes, taking a moment to savour the moment as he took a deep breath, allowing himself to become enveloped in the sensation of your body pressed against his. "Let me show you how much you mean to me," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness and longing. With gentle strength, he lifted You up into his arms, cradling You close. He wanted to do so much more than that. But he was at a loss for words, unable to bear the thought of overwhelming You. Fortunately for him, the two of you often worked on one wavelength. Hence, he did not have to voice his desires again as You did it for him.

"I think I'm up for a little roleplay..." You whispered, your voice laced with anticipation, as he carried You towards the bedroom at the back of the Mantis.

Cal's eyes widened with surprise and excitement at your words. "Roleplay?" he echoed, his voice tinged with anticipation. With careful yet eager movements, he carried You into the bedroom and gently set You down on the bed, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he prepared to indulge in whatever playful fantasy you both would come up with.

You couldn't help but laugh at his excitement, your eyes gazing up at him with adoration. "Do you... still have that Inquisitor uniform from our mission last time? When we infiltrated that Imperial base?" You asked, your voice tinged with a hint of shyness, the memory of that daring mission adding an extra layer of excitement to the scenario You had in mind.

"Yes, I do," The Jedi replied, his voice hitching slightly with anticipation. "You want me to wear it?" There was a moment of hesitation in his tone, uncertain of how You would react. But seeing the desire in your eyes, he knew he had to try.

"Mhm..." You eagerly nodded before quickly justifying yourself, your nerves causing You to ramble. "Not a big fan of Inquisitors, of course, since they're ruthless workers of the Empire and all that, but I do love to see you in dark armour or uniform...!" Your cheeks flushed slightly as You stumbled over your words, hoping he understood your preference despite the conflicting emotions tied to the attire.

His worries eased, Cal offered You a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I understand," he said softly before leaving the room to retrieve the uniform. He felt a mix of excitement and nervousness himself as he sought out the outfit. Upon his return, he was clad in the dark suit, its distinctive black cape billowing behind him and sleek torso armour gleaming in the dim light of the room.

"S-so... we should get in character, right...?" You whispered, your wide eyes appreciatively trailing over the redhead's figure in the Inquisitor uniform. Despite the intimidating aura associated with Inquisitors, seeing Cal dressed as one only fueled your desire for him.

"How about I play the Jedi, and you play the Inquisitor hunting me down?"

Cal nodded, a wicked grin stretching across his features. "Yes, precisely," he affirmed. Stepping closer to You, his voice deepened, assuming the persona of the Inquisitor. "I've been tracking you for weeks, little Jedi."

You barely stopped yourself from letting out an excited squeal as the redhead fully embraced his role. Instead, You quickly stood up from the bed, your expression a mix of shock and fear. "How did you find me?!" You exclaimed, playing along with the scenario as your heart raced with anticipation.

"My training has prepared me well for situations like this, Jedi," the Inquisitor replied, his voice dripping with ominous authority. With purposeful strides, he advanced towards You, each step echoing in the small room. "Your hiding place was not so well-guarded after all," he added, his tone implying a sense of superiority and triumph.

You backed away as his menacing form advanced upon You, your eyes frantically scanning the room to calculate an escape route.

Cal stopped a few feet away from You, close enough to see the fear in your eyes but not close enough to make You feel trapped. "You're strong for a Jedi, little one," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you're also alone." He let his gaze drift down your body before meeting your eyes again. "You should've stayed hidden," he said with a sigh, reaching to his side for his lightsaber hilt.

Taking advantage of his brief distraction, You swiftly sidestepped him and dashed towards the workbench where your own lightsaber lay.

Cal swiftly spun around, his hand gripping his lightsaber tightly as he faced You. "You think you can outsmart an Inquisitor, Jedi?" he asked, his voice dripping with darkness and menace. Yet, he hadn't even bothered to ignite his lightsaber, so confident in his ability to detain You without the use of a weapon.

Gripping your lightsaber in terror, its blade not yet ignited either, You glared up at the Inquisitor. "Leave now, if you know what's good for you," You attempted to sound threatening, but your voice shook with fear too much to be convincing.

Cal chuckled darkly. "You really think that will stop me?" he asked, taking another step closer to You. "I have hunted Jedi like you for years. You're nothing special." With a menacing grin, he reached out with the Force, attempting to pull your lightsaber from your grip, causing You to grunt and hold your weapon tightly. Your arm outstretched as it was almost pulled away, forcing You to plant your feet firmly on the ground in resistance.

The Inquisitor could sense your strength through the Force as you both struggled against each other. Finally, with a surge of effort, he succeeded in dislodging the lightsaber from your grip, causing it to fly into his outstretched hand.

Gasping as You were rendered defenseless, You realised You had no other choice but to flee. Quickly, You rushed over to the door, desperation urging You forward.

Unfortunately for You, the Inquisitor proved quicker, pushing You roughly against the wall. He pressed his body flush against yours, pinning You there as he looked into your eyes. "I can offer you another choice, little Jedi," he whispered, his voice laced with a sinister undertone.

"W-What other choice...?" You stammered, your voice trembling with uncertainty and apprehension.

His lips brushed against yours, his lips cold but his heart pounding in his chest as he slowly, gently claimed your mouth in a kiss. You softly returned the kiss, standing on your tip toes to meet him halfway, almost breaking character before glaring up at him after he broke it off a few moments later, his eyes gleaming with desire. "You could give yourself up," he said silkily.

"And become a slave to the Empire? Like you? No, thanks..."

Cal smiled darkly. "Unfortunate," he murmured, gripping your chin roughly to make You meet his gaze. "You're not as clever as you believe, Jedi. You have nowhere to run." His hand tightened around your chin, forcing You to hold his gaze. "You'll eventually be locked in a cell, but I can give you one last chance," he growled, his tone laced with lethal intent.

"You could give in... to me." He continued, pressing closer as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Or I'll have no choice but to make you mine by force."

"I-I'll never give in..." Your voice shook as your thighs pressed together, attempting to relieve some of the ache You felt in your core. You wondered what Cal would do if You chose the harder route.

In response, Cal's eyes flashed with a mix of lust and anger. "Then you leave me no choice," he growled, forcefully pushing You against the wall, eliminating any space between your bodies. His mouth descended upon yours in a brutal kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he took what he desired, causing You to gasp and softly moan into the kiss, your hands clutching his broad shoulders in response.

Cal's grip on You tightened, his tongue dancing with yours as he claimed your mouth completely. His other hand slipped down to grope at your ass, squeezing the firm flesh through the clothes. He broke the kiss only to growl against your neck, "You'll submit to me, Jedi. And you'll enjoy it." He grabbed your arms, holding them above your head with one hand before leaning in to nip at your exposed neck, his teeth leaving marks as he continued to grope at your butt with his other hand.

The hand that had been holding your arms captive slowly trailed down to your chest, roughly squeezing your breasts through your clothes, grinning menacingly against your neck. "You desire this," he growled, seizing a handful of your hair, causing You to wince as he pulled your head back, his lips grazing against your throat.

The redhead momentarily paused, whispering in your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps rising on your skin. "Are you comfortable with this? Because I can go as far as you want," he murmured. He nipped at your earlobe, his other hand continuing to squeeze your breast through your clothes.

His question elicited a soft smile from You, your heart fluttering as Cal broke character to ask for your permission, demonstrating his deep care for You by being unwilling to hurt you, even unintentionally.

"I'm okay... I'm actually enjoying this so far," You shyly whispered, reassuring him. "Please, don't hold back. Be as mean to me as you want... I know I can always use the safe word if things feel too much."

Cal's smile returned as he slipped back into character. His eyes flashed with lust and power as he smiled cruelly, releasing your hair but maintaining his grip on your breasts. "You want me to be cruel? To take you against your will?" he questioned, his voice laced with dominance and desire.

"Please, Inquisitor... don't do this!" You whined, your tone almost playful as your soft folds moistened with arousal.

Cal chuckled darkly as he moved his hand to cup your sex through your pants, asserting his dominance. "Oh, but I will," he growled, his hand feeling how wet You were even through your clothes. His free hand reached up to undo his pants, pulling out his thick cock with a harsh grunt.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him. "I-I don't think it'll fit..." You whispered, aware that you both knew it was partially true. You just wanted to say it to boost the redhead’s confidence.

Cal smirked, taking it as a challenge. "Watch me," he growled, pushing your pants down and panties to the side. He positioned himself at your entrance, his thick cockhead pressing against You slowly. "Are you sure you don't want me to go easy on you?"

Your lips curled into a soft smile as your hands tenderly brushed against his cheeks, feeling the roughness of his stubble. You were so grateful for his concern and love for You.

"Yes, Cal... Don't hold back," You whispered, giving him permission to fully immerse himself in the moment.

Cal's heart skipped a beat at your words, feeling a surge of desire course through him. He pushed forward, slowly penetrating your tight folds. It was a struggle to get all of his girth inside You, but he managed it with a grunt. "Kriff..."

The intense pressure caused your back to arch off of the wall, pushing your breasts against the chest plating of his dark uniform, feeling his girth fill You to the brim.

The Inquisitor gritted his teeth, determined to fulfill your desires. He began to thrust slowly but powerfully, feeling his cock sinking deep inside You with every push. His free hand moved up under your shirt to cup one of your breasts roughly, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

"Oh... Oh, please, Inquisitor... It hurts..." You playfully whined, though your facial expressions conveyed anything but pain.

Cal chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating against your sensitive skin. "That's it, my little whore," he growled into your neck, his pace quickening as he took You roughly against the wall.

You squeaked and threw your head back, the unexpected derogatory word causing your inner walls to clench hard around him, eliciting a groan of pleasure from Cal. "You like that, don't you? Being called a whore?" he demanded, grabbing You by the hair and forcefully pulling your head back to make You meet his gaze.

Softly moaning, You gave him a little smirk, replying, "N-No, Inquisitor. Whatever gave you that idea?"

Cal laughed, his thrusts becoming even harder and faster. "Liar," he snarled, slamming into You with brutal force. His other hand slid down to your aching clit, teasing it roughly as he continued to pound into You.

The intense pleasure wiped the smirk off your face as You arched your back, closing your eyes in ecstasy. Your hands clutched Cal's shoulders tightly, one moving up to run your fingers through his fiery hair. You loved how he had allowed his hair to grow past their usual style.

Cal growled, feeling the pleasure coursing through him as he took You roughly against the wall. Sensing his climax approaching, he slammed his hips into yours with a feral intensity. "You enjoy being taken like this, don't you?"

"O-Only by you!" You gasped out, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he pounded into You, a grin spreading across his face as he felt his climax building rapidly. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a rough, passionate kiss as he continued to thrust into You, feeling your walls clenching around him tighter and tighter.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling Cal's tongue intertwining with yours as your walls tightened, signaling your impending climax. Cal's thrusts became more erratic as he neared his climax as well, the pleasure coursing through him reaching new heights. He felt your walls convulse around him as your release synchronised with his, and with a final roar of pleasure, he released himself inside You, filling You with his seed.

Cal panted heavily, his body shuddering as he leaned his head against yours, still buried inside You. He looked down at You, both your eyes locking in a moment of shared satisfaction. "That was... intense," he said with a chuckle, slowly pulling out of You.

"Mhm..." You hummed, feeling blissed out as You rested between Cal and the wall with your eyes closed, your legs feeling like jelly when the redhead gently placed You back on your feet. Letting out a satisfied sigh, Cal planted a gentle kiss on your forehead before he pulled You into a warm embrace, feeling a stirring of affection for You. "You're quite something, aren't you?"

"So are you..." You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Thank you for doing this with me..."

Cal smiled, his heart warming at your words. "No need to thank me," he said softly, nuzzling his face into your neck. "I enjoyed it just as much as you did."

"You enjoyed being bad to me...?" You teasingly whispered, unable to resist, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, causing his cheeks to flush at your words. But he couldn't suppress the smirk that spread across his face. "Well... perhaps just a bit," he admitted, brushing his lips against yours playfully. "But only because it made you feel good."

Your smirk softened into a loving smile at his words, overwhelmed by the sweetness of the man and the fact that he was yours. However, You were pulled from your thoughts when Cal's eyes widened as he noticed the bruises on your hips and thighs from where he had gripped You too hard. "Oh no, my love..." he said worriedly, tracing his fingers over the marks gently. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been so rough."

"Don't be!" You softly held his hands in yours, stopping him from fretting over You. "I wanted this, remember. And besides, it's a good kind of hurt."

Cal sighed, still grappling with a mix of emotions, both guilt and satisfaction, as he remembered the passionate encounter. He then scooped You up into his arms and carried You towards the refresher, setting You down gently on the edge of the tub, his mind set on making you feel better. "Perhaps we can take it easy and ensure you're feeling alright?"

"Oh yeah, what do you have in mind?"

With his eye green eyes full of love, Cal replied, "How about a nice bath together?" He began running the water, adjusting the temperature until it was warm and inviting. "We can sit back, relax, and just... enjoy each other's company."

"That sounds amazing..." You sighed in delight before smirking up at the redhead. "You might want to lose all that armor..." You gestured to the inquisitor uniform he still wore, prompting a soft chuckle and nod from him. "Good idea." He proceeded to unfasten the various straps and buckles of his armor, unveiling his toned physique underneath.

You observed his body with without shame, admiring the abundant freckles that dotted his skin like stars, the scars and muscles revealing his experience as a seasoned Jedi, etching the image into your mind. "As much as I enjoy seeing you in uniform, the downside is not being able to admire you in all your naked glory..."

Cal grinned at your comment. "Well, now's your chance." He stepped out of the armor entirely, standing fully naked before You. His anticipation palpable, his cock twitched slightly as he eased into the tub. But despite his returning excitement, he reminded himself that your comfort was of greater importance at that moment. Hence, with gentle hands, he guided You in, mindful of your still-unsteady legs after your intense session earlier. Your skin brushed softly against each other as you both tried to find a comfortable position.

Once You were settled in, You sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, feeling your body immediately relax as You nestled between his legs, leaning back against his strong chest. The warmth of the bath melted away both your sweat and any lingering tension from the encounter. In that moment, You couldn't help but reflect on how safe Cal always made You feel, more than anyone else has ever been able to.

Meanwhile, the Jedi leaned his head against yours, breathing deeply as he relaxed into the moment. Holding You close, he gently stroked your hair while you both shared the bath. The silence enveloped you, comfortable and serene, allowing the two of you to simply enjoy each other's company without words. Cal placed a tender kiss on the top of your head, feeling content in that fleeting moment of peace.

After some time, he began to softly massage your shoulders and back, his strong hands working out the knots of tension that had built up there. He continued down your spine, slowly working his way towards your hips and thighs.

As the redhead's soothing touches eased your tension, You couldn't help but emit soft, appreciative sounds, allowing your body to sink deeper into his embrace, raising one hand to gently caress his stubbled cheek. "You're so sweet to me..."

Cal's gaze softened as he leaned closer, his eyes fixed on yours. "You deserve all the sweetness in the galaxy, my love." He couldn't resist pressing his lips to yours, your lips meeting in a gentle but passionate embrace. In that moment, he poured all his love into that kiss, relishing the taste of You.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

In Space

Masterlist

Pairing: Cal Kestis x (f)reader

Tags: Dark, inquisitor Cal, fear, eventual smut

You hadn’t had many run-ins with Jedi - certainly not since the execution of Order 66 - but you’d heard about the tragedy that swept the galaxy. When your home planet was raided by the Empire, led by the Inquisitor Kestis, you and all the other engineers across your planet were offered one choice: your lives, in exchange for your service aboard their warship.

"It’s a good thing we’re smart," your bunkmate muttered the first night.

You’d nodded.

People often confused "smart" with "useful." The only reason you knew how to fix and build was because you’d been doing it since you could walk. You had no choice as an orphan who was taken in by a mechanic for an extra pair of hands to help run his shop. In the galaxy, life had nothing to do with knowledge or ability, only with what you could provide those in power. Either way, your skills saved you. Though looking around the cramped quarters and sterile showers, "safety" didn’t feel like much of a luxury.

One day, while on your way to the hangar, a flicker of movement caught your eye. The hallways were filled with the usual noise of boots pounding against metal floors. Troops marched and staff rushed past each other on their way to stations.

Glancing to your right, you noticed a large glass wall separating the corridor from a training chamber. Inside, Inquisitor Kestis stood poised, saber in hand, ready to strike. Opposite him was another figure, perhaps another Inquisitor or Sith, holding a lightsaber of her own.

Gone was Kestis’s imposing black hood, traded for something more practical for training. His robes were fitted and sleek, dark fabric wrapping around his torso and leaving his arms bare and free to move. The material looked thick, expensive. Designed to protect him without hindering his agility. The kind of fabric that could likely withstand a blade or, at the very least, a brush with heat.

You glanced down at your own uniform, a jumpsuit that had clearly belonged to someone else before you. Stretched seams, covered with stains that never washed out, no matter how hard you tried. The material was thin, offering little protection if something sparked or went wrong at your station. You tried not to think about how envious you were of his armor, his privilege. While he could charge into battle, cloaked in armor that would shield him, you worked with the constant chance that a minor mistake could mean serious injury.

Kestis’s focus was deadly, his stance sharp, as he charged forward. The hum of lightsabers clashing vibrated through the glass, and you felt the intense heat even from your distance. Sparks flew. You winced as the woman’s saber cut a streak across his arm, leaving a burning red graze.

What a weapon, you thought, marveling at the display of power. Jedi weren’t the only ones capable of wielding lightsabers, but they were the only ones allowed. Surely, though, someone built them- engineers, technicians. What went into their construction? Perhaps a flint, or even gunpowder-

A hard nudge interrupted your thoughts, nearly causing you to drop your toolbox. A trooper barely glanced at you as he shoved past, his voice bored. "Quit gawking and get to your station."

You swallowed, casting a final glance at the training grounds, and turned away - only to nearly collide with a figure standing in your path. Yellow eyes, framed by freckles and red hair, met yours with an intensity that stopped you cold.

Your breath hitched, and you flinched, dropping your toolbox this time. You braced for the inevitable crash, but none came. Peeking down, you saw the box hovering inches above the ground. Your eyes widened when you realized you were witnessing the Force in use. Inquisitor Kestis’s open palm was extended toward it, his expression unbothered, like he barely had to try.

You’d heard that using the Force could exhaust the jedi, but Kestis stood there, not even breaking a sweat. His gaze shifted from the box to you, unreadable - a look that held pain, fear, and something even darker beneath it.

"Enjoying the view?" His voice dripped with a quiet menace, as though you were being interrogated. Yellow eyes locked onto you, a jarring contrast against the freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks - features that, in any other life, might have softened him. Those eyes, once rumored to be kind, now burned with a cold amber glow, radiating something far darker, something deadly. His gaze held you in place, dissecting every twitch, every flicker of unease.

You swallowed hard and shook your head, then realized that might seem offensive. "I mean - I just…"

"You were watching me train." His voice dropped, almost curious, as he raised the toolbox with the Force until it reached his hand. "Jealous of my clothes. Wondering if you could make one of these yourself?" He lifted the saber in his other hand, the metal glinting ominously.

You took an instinctive step back, eyes drawn to the unlit saber. How many people had lost their lives at the end of it?

Then, a chill ran down your spine. How did he know you were thinking about building one? Could he-

"Yes, I can," he said, a deadly serious look in his eyes. "Be careful what you think around me."

He held the toolbox out to you, his gaze steady. You forced yourself to take it, your fingers trembling slightly. "Th-thank you, sir."

"I’d get moving if I were you."

"Right. Long live the Empire." Your voice was barely a whisper.

"Long live the Empire," he echoed. You could have sworn his tone was mocking as he turned away.

The salute must have seemed a twisted joke from someone who once fought against the very regime he now served.

Your pulse quickened as you hurried down the corridor.

[spaced0lphin]

Dark Comforts - Chapter 4

Hey, we're up to 11,700+ words, now! If I had a penny for every word in this, I'd have £117, which isn't a lot but it would be enough to buy Jedi: Survivor. Unless I have my decimals wrong and it'd be £1,170 in which case I never claimed to be good at math, I claimed to be good at nothing and also writing about Inquisitor Cal getting fixed by the healing power of p

Rated E for EJACULATION and I don't mean of the verbal surprise kind, 18+ only squeeze and thank you

You are Commander of the Air Group on a Star Destroyer. You've sacrificed all your principles and a lot of your soul to be where you are, trying to stay hidden, trying to survive. You have a secret; you are an Order 66 survivor, and now you've been thrown headlong into the mix with one of the most damaged Inquisitors there ever was. He's taken a shining to you. It wasn't your idea or your choice, but now it's your responsibility: Pacify him, keep him working, stay alive, and try to remember who you are… both of you.

Inquisitor Cal Kestis, Cal Kestis Needs a Hug, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, The Force Ships It (Star Wars), The Force, Force-Sensitive Reader, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Beta Read, No betas we die like Prauf, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, I can fix him, He Can Fix Me, Cal Kestis Has a Praise Kink

[wayfaringjedi]

DARK COMFORTS CHAPTER SIX

Wow, this chapter took like a month to write but I was splitting time between it and my Mass Effect mod project & Survivor so you'll simply have to forgive me. Or don't, it's your life, I guess. I had originally planned for Chapter 6 to be the last one, but at 5,700 words and with like, a bunch more plot and sex to go I was like... no I have to give myself more room.

Part of the reason it took so long was me agonising over the execution of some important plot developments because I was going for a very particular tone, and I hope I got there.

For the uninitiated, DC is a fic about an Inquisitor Cal and an O66 survivor who is in hiding as a TIE pilot. It's Plot With Porn, will have a happy ending, and is a lot more tender and painful than it is rough or violent. Others in our fandom handle that flavour. I've got the sorrowful rage with a yearning to love.

It bears the distinction of having actually turned a few people around on the second person writing device. Several people have come to me being like, "I don't like 'reader x Canon' fics but I love the voice in Dark Comforts." So I must be doing something right! I try to give the reader character her own personality, but I keep her description vague. I guess, you're meant to visualise it in first person, like a cutscene in Wolfenstein or something. Except it's Star Wars and it's about healing a broken Cal with the power of PIV.

[imgoingtocrash]

cal and merrin having an argument in the middle of a battle and telling an inquisitor to shut up is their han/leia arguing in the middle of the base hallway moment no i will not elaborate

[goosewriting]

Underneath

summary: after getting stationed at the fortress inquisitorius, it seems a certain inquisitor takes an interest in reader.

relationship: inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) me being absolutely delulu, slow-burn-ish??? as it can get at 7k lol, making out at the end and fade to black, sexual tension if you squint, psychometry 

word count: 7.6k

A/N: started writing this back when i restarted JFO and got cal’s inquisitor clothes, so it’s been in the works for quite some time. also i had made pancakes back then and was sad about having no one to share them with, so i shall share them virtually with all of you <3

there's a second part now! go read warmth after this :)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

As long as you can remember, you’ve always been fascinated by the way people communicate with each other. Now, as a linguistics and behaviour expert, you count yourself lucky to be one of the probably few people who actually like their job. Stationed in an Imperial office on your home planet, you mainly monitor comms and analyse the occasional security holovid in an attempt to weed out any suspicious activity. 

In fact, it was thanks to you that a rebel cell was found, since you caught a suspicious exchange on unused frequencies, which earned you a promotion. You were content with that already, but then your superior said he’d put in a good word for you, as he’s always felt like you were far more capable than just listening to comms all day, and that you could use your skills better in service of the Empire. 

Fast-forward three months and lo and behold, you’re now stationed at Fortress Insquisitorius. 

It’s the first day and while you’ve got the grand tour of the place by a group of stormtroopers especially assigned to you (you still can’t quite believe you get your own little squad of troopers), there’s still some time before dinner. After dismissing the men, saying you’ll catch up to them later at the mess hall, you walk around, further checking out the place. 

As you turn a corner to a hallway you haven’t been to yet, you notice it looks rather deserted. You check the small sign on the wall; this leads to one of the bigger residential wings, but not yours. So you decide to turn on your heels and head the other way. Except that before you can even take a step in that direction, you’re stopped in your tracks by an invisible force and turned back around again. This hold around you isn’t so tight that you can’t breathe, but you do feel the pressure keeping your arms at your sides and your body suspended in the air, the sole of your boots hanging barely an inch over the polished floor. Unable to resist your captor, you’re met with an Inquisitor, of all people, who slowly walks towards you with one of their hands in the air, holding you in place.

They come to a halt before you, the helmet tilting slightly to the side as the eyes under the red visor study you, out of your view. 

“Who are you?” comes the distorted voice. Despite the modulator, you can tell by the tone and body language it’s a man. You’ve heard stories about Inquisitors, and despite being stationed at their base, you hoped you wouldn’t have to interact with them. Just your luck, and in an empty hallway no less.

Nonetheless, you tell him your name, station and even your office’s room number. Just in case. 

“I’m new,” you add, as if it wasn’t obvious by now. He remains eerily calm and still all the while. With a polite smile, you throw the question back at him, “And you are?”

His helmet tilts the other way ever so slightly as if your question took him by surprise.

“Inquisitor Kestis,” he replies after a second. “Cal Kestis”

“Well, nice to meet you, Inquisitor Cal Kestis,” you say. If you could move, you’d stretch out your hand towards him out of habit as a greeting, but he probably wouldn’t take it either way, so you’re glad you don’t get the chance to embarrass yourself. Yet, anyway. 

For a few moments, he just stands there with you in his invisible grasp. Is he looking at you? Did he space out? You suddenly feel your stomach complaining about its emptiness.

“Uhm, could you let me down again?” you ask, looking down at the floor tiles and back up at the red visor. “I’d like to go get dinner.”

Without a word, he places you back onto the ground surprisingly gently, then takes off in the direction he came from, disappearing from your view as he turns a corner. Well, you think to yourself with a satisfied nod as you make your way to the mess hall, I think that was a solid first impression. Good job, me.

The next day, you officially start your new job, and you’re all sorts of excited and nervous. You’re still intercepting messages, decoding and translating encrypted communications, but on a much higher level this time. These are important people you’re monitoring. You’re also called as an interpreter when there’s holocalls with parties who refuse to have droids in the room. Besides, the officers and generals seem to actually enjoy having you around, with your happy and optimistic demeanour in this otherwise cold and sterile building. You know that Imperial staff can be rough sometimes, but you’re convinced that the kindness you put out into the world eventually comes back to you. So you make sure to treat everyone equally, with kindness and respect, wearing a smile whenever you get the chance.

The days go on, and you see all sorts of people around the place. You do see some Inquisitors from time to time, mainly in the hangar. Occasionally they make an appearance in the mess hall as well, but they usually sit alone and for a very short amount of time on one of the round tables in the far corner of the mess. You never see Inquisitor Kestis there, though. 

As you sit with your little trooper squad, you chew on a stringy piece of meat deep in thought, not really paying attention to the conversation. This Kestis has you intrigued if you’re being honest with yourself. You still don't understand why he talked to you. The other Inquisitors seem to ignore you, as well as everyone else, most of the time. Besides, Kestis could have just talked to you. There was no need to Force-hold you or anything. Was he trying to show you he’s in charge or something? Doesn’t that mean that he felt threatened? 

With a light scoff at yourself — because the notion of an Inquisitor being intimidated by you is pretty silly — you take another bite of your food, your gaze scanning the mess hall without looking at anything in particular. The thing is that, since you don’t see Kestis in the mess hall like, ever, you only catch fleeting glances of him here and there when you see him slip into the elevator or turn a sharp corner at a hallway. You furrow your brows. It’s almost like he’s avoiding you. And that makes you just much more intrigued in what his deal is.

When the squad is in a good mood, you try to slip a question into the conversation about the Inquisitors here and there, asking if they ever saw their faces or what they’re like, and what they do. The troopers can only tell you the rumours you’ve already heard in a thousand different versions, the details getting more violent and out of hand every time you hear them. You dismiss most of those stories; you’ve noticed that a few Inquisitors walk around without a helmet. And others are pretty direct in their attitude towards others, getting into arguments or even physical fights when something bothers them. So they all want the rest to know who they are and be scared, many even seem to enjoy the fear in people’s faces. But Kestis? The few times you’ve seen him, he moves like a well-oiled machine. His face is always hidden, every movement is calculated, and he doesn’t waste his breath on any unnecessary syllable. That’s just proof that he has a carefully curated persona he wears when he’s out and about. But once he’s alone, when he gets to peel back all those layers? You truly wonder what lies beneath. 

One evening you find yourself thinking about him yet again, suddenly concerned about his eating habits, wondering if he’s okay and eating well. For some reason that you still can’t quite comprehend, you decide to just go to him. After all, if he didn’t want to see you, he’d just send you away, right? By now you’re very well aware about what the Inquisitors are capable of, but you’re both on the same side, so surely there’s nothing to worry about. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as your feet carry you to the mess hall that evening.

After you’re done eating (the food today is better than you would have thought), you order a second portion to go. You start walking down the hallway, looking for a console or a droid. You know where the residential wing is, but you don’t know what floor the Inquisitors’ rooms are, and doubt there’ll be specific directions towards them. It isn’t long before you do find an R4 unit, and you ask where the Inquisitor quarters are. The cylindrical droid beeps and jumps a little with a startle, at first unwilling to tell you, afraid that if it does, the droid will be sliced in half. But you promise the droid that you won’t tell on it. So after some more convincing and promising the droid you owe it an oil bath, it finally brings up a holomap of the place, showing you where you want to go with a blinking dot. 

With a pat on the head, you say your thanks and go to where the map said. Soon enough, you find yourself in a wing of the building you’ve not only never been to, but one you didn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for the droid. The design of the walls is even sleeker here, and the sound of your boots echoes through the hallway. The further you walk into this wing, the fewer people and troops you come across. Even the constant rumbling of machinery behind the panels seems to be quieter here. 

After some more minutes of walking, you finally reach the door you’re looking for. There are no signs or name plaques, but you remember the number on the door from the droid’s map. The lettering is almost the same shade of black as the door, so it took you a moment to find the right one. But you’re fairly sure this one should be it. 

Taking one final deep breath, you knock on the door. In the seconds waiting for a response, you suddenly feel silly about being here. He’s a full-grown man. An Inquisitor. Why did you think he’d need you to bring him dinner? What if he didn’t like it anyway–

The door opens with a whoosh, and you look up. For some reason, you were expecting to be met with the red visor of his helmet. Which now that you think about, doesn’t make sense; if he’s in his quarters, he wouldn’t be walking around with his full uniform on.

Instead, you’re met with a pair of intense yellow eyes, and equally fiery red hair on his head. Your breath hitches and you’re not sure if it’s the surprise of seeing his uncovered face or the realisation that he’s incredibly handsome, and it just caught you off-guard.

He gives you a quick once-over, momentarily looking at the box in your hands, then bringing his eyes back to yours, boring into your very soul.

“Why are you here?” he asks in a flat voice.

“I haven't seen you in the mess hall today. Or, any other day, really,” you explain, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Ever since I've started working here. So I brought some food in case you haven't eaten yet…” Your voice starts trailing off at the end as you once again realise how dumb that sounds out loud.

He holds your gaze a little longer, narrowing his eyes at you as if to scrutinise whether you're being honest or not. While you hope he’ll accept the food in case he actually hasn't eaten yet, that's all you expect to happen. You’re counting on him taking the box and leaving you be, so you can go back to your quarters and continue reading your novel, which you are actually looking forward to.

To your surprise, the Inquisitor takes a step to the side, silently inviting you in. You walk past him, slightly bowing your head as a thanks, and take in his quarters. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it's surprisingly… normal. Bigger than the barracks and other quarters you've seen, including yours, but still normal. There’s a banner with the Imperial emblem hanging on the far wall, a couch on the other side, and a round table with some chairs in the middle, as well as a kitchenette. Everything is neat and clean.

You hear the doors close as you walk to the table and place the box on it, turning back around to Kestis, who’s eyeing you curiously.

“It’s still warm,” you tell him, pointing at the food.

He walks by you to pick up the container, and that’s when you notice he’s still wearing his gloves. It strikes you as odd to be wearing them in the confines of his own room, but to each their own. Kestis walks to the kitchen and pours the food onto a plate and throws away the take-out container, then rummages in a drawer for a fork.  After walking past you to sit at the table, he takes off his gloves and places them neatly next to him on the table.

“Sit,” he orders without looking at you, and takes the first bite. You sit down across from him.

“Have you already eaten?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” you give the honorific a try, and he seems to like it. “At the mess hall.”

“I wouldn’t have any food to offer you either way,” he states, and lifts his gaze to look at you. “This visit is… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry for intruding, Sir. I didn’t mean to. I just–”

“You just what?” He shoots you a look akin to a glare.

“I was just worried, I guess,” you say. He scoffs.

“Please don’t act like you care,” he retorts. “If you need or want something, just tell me upfront.”

“What? No, I- I’m not acting,” you reassure him, raising your hands slightly to underline you’re being earnest. “I’m not trying to gain something in exchange. I was genuinely worried about not seeing you in the mess hall.”

His fork stops mid-way from the plate to his mouth, and the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why?” he asks. You squirm slightly in your seat.

“I’m not sure myself, to be honest,” you admit, and you can’t help the defeated slump of your shoulders. “You were the first one who talked to me when I got here out of their own volition and not because of work. After our chat, I was hoping to see you around or something…”

The pause that follows lasts for a couple of seconds only, but it feels eternal. Until finally, Kestis lets out a short sigh and continues eating.

“I usually avoid the mess hall,” he says, his voice much more gentle now. “Too many people. Too much noise.”

“I see,” is all you manage to reply. 

Taking the two last bites of his meal, Kestis sets down the fork. That’s my queue, you think.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep imposing,” you say, rising up to your feet, and he does the same. Before turning around, you search his eyes one last time. “That’s really all I wanted to do: to bring you the food. I’ll be going now. Good night, Sir.”

The Inquisitor walks you to the door, and just as you walk past the threshold, his words surprise you.

“Next time you could bring two portions.”

You whip around, but the door whooshes shut with a hiss.

— — —

After that, you two fall into a strange routine where you get dinner to go and bring it to his quarters so you can eat together. The conversations start out as polite small-talk, but soon enough you can broaden your topics, ranging from work to anecdotes and fun facts you picked up here and there. 

While the tone remains polite and all in all pleasant, you do notice that he’s very careful not to touch you. You think it’s because he’s being respectful, but unbeknownst to you, it’s because he wants to get to know you organically, and not pry into the echoes of your belongings. Even if he knows he could, and you’d never even know, and despite his growing curiosity, he feels… compelled to try. For you. Because you bring a refreshing factor into his otherwise stale life, like a gentle melody in the cold vastness of space. 

It’s rare to run into Cal, as he’s recently allowed you (and only you) to call him, in the halls or in the hangar. As fate would have it though, you’re just about to get into a ship with your trooper squad to leave for a job off-planet, while Cal happens to be getting off his own ship at the same time.

You don’t want to disturb him. Even if you want to wave at him from afar really badly, or even call out to him. But you think he’d appreciate it if you keep your relationship, whatever it is, a secret. To your complete surprise however, once he spots you in the ever moving crowd of the busy hangar, he comes to you.

Beelining towards you, he comes to a stop in front of you, sporting his full uniform. And while the group around you stiffens up and some even take a precautionary step back, you feel very at ease in his presence, greeting him like you normally would with a smile. If you’re being completely honest, you feel kinda proud that one of the most feared Inquisitors on base came to you, and that everyone seems so scared of him while you are completely relaxed, though still remaining respectful of course. 

“Welcome back,” you greet Cal with a genuine smile. “I hope your mission wasn’t too eventful?”

“It all went according to plan,” the distorted voice says with a static crackle.

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. 

Cal’s head shifts ever so slightly, the visor looking past your face to something behind your back.

“Is there a problem, trooper?” the Inquisitor asks, standing a little taller as he addresses the soldier who’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“With all due respect, Sir, we’re on a tight schedule-“

The trooper next to him elbows him in the side.

“Is that so,” Cal asks rhetorically, and you can’t really read his tone because of the distortion. Still, you decide to intervene.

“It’s okay, we can still make it on time,” you assure him and shoot the trooper a pointed look while whispering to Cal that he’s new. “But yes, we should probably get going. I’m glad I got to see you, though. Thanks for stopping by to say hi.”

Cal nods and makes room for you to walk past, while the others keep a noticeable distance between the Inquisitor and themselves as they walk around him. When you reach the ramp to the ship, you turn around one last time. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re still surprised to see Cal standing there, hands behind his back, facing your direction. You give a little wave with your hand, then hurry up the ramp and take a seat. As the ship takes off, you’re checking the data on your holopad. You suddenly feel something on your cheek, like the faintest caress of a summer breeze, and you could swear you just heard a voice in your head.

‘Come back safely.’

As the ship activates the hyperdrive, your hand involuntarily comes up to touch your cheek where the skin still prickles from what you can only describe as a ghost’s touch. 

— — —

Ever since then, you notice a shift in the way everyone treats you, even your superiors, but especially the troopers. Some seem to get out of your way completely when you come walking down the hall, while others are especially attentive to your needs, offering to help you whenever you look like you’re lost or are searching for something. That one trooper who had spoken up to Cal, you haven’t seen him around at all. In fact, it isn’t until two weeks after the incident that you decide to ask one of your other squad members where he is, and she tells you that he got reassigned to not only a different squadron, but an entirely different planetary system. You have a hunch about who’s responsible for that, but you're still not quite sure why he would go to such lengths. Had he really felt that disrespected? You should watch your tone with him from now on, lest you also be sent to some backwater planet…

However, Cal still acts as he always has around you. You still eat dinner in his room, like you’ve been doing for a while now. And while it may just be your wishful thinking, it seems like his whole body language has finally started to soften too. When it’s just the two of you, his shoulders are not as tense, his jaw not as tight, his eyes not as harsh. Even the way he talks has changed. Others may not notice, but you’re literally trained for this. His choice of words has shifted to a less strictly professional lingo, allowing himself to articulate more freely, as well as use more face expressions, voice tone changes and hand gestures, compared to how he acted when your dinner routine started. At some point, he even stopped wearing his gloves around you all the time.

On one hand, for the past couple of months, dinner has been the highlight of your day. You get to spend time with someone who actually listens to you, not because of work, not because you have data they need, but because they just like to spend time with you. Or at least you hope he does. 

On the other hand, you’ve been noticing a slight knot in your stomach whenever you stand in front of Cal’s door, waiting for it to open. As well as the prick of heat on your cheeks when he reacts to your jokes (you haven’t seen him properly smile or laugh out loud yet, but you’ll get there). And let’s not forget the involuntary hitch of your breath accompanied by the skip of your heart when you discover him in the same room with you when you weren’t expecting to see him. 

Somewhere deep within you, you know what all of those mean. But you like the relationship that you’ve built with him, no matter how weird it is, too much to listen to your gut right now. So you just push all and any thought of that kind waaay back into the darkest corner of your brain, hoping it’ll pass.

— — —

One day, you’re feeling a little blue, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Cal. He asks what the problem is, and you tell him you miss something from your home planet. He assures you, whatever it is, he can get it for you. So you write down some things and he orders them. Only two rotations later, the package is at his door. 

He's really curious to open it but decides to wait for you to get there that evening. When you’re finally in his quarters and he shows you the box, you’re super happy and unpack everything: it’s candy, some fruits he’s never seen before, a jar of what looks like herbs, and another jar with a blue spread of sorts. 

You hum, thinking about what to show him first, and decide to go for the jar with the spread. Picking it up, you’re about to start explaining what it is while you open it, but whatever you plan to say gets cut off because of your fruitless effort to screw open the lid. You give it a second try, but it just won’t budge.

With a sheepish look, you wordlessly hand him the glass and when he takes it, there’s a cocky smile on his face that you’ve never seen on him before. You bite your tongue just in time to stop some witty remark, because it would have been a jumble of sounds and no coherent sentence anyway. For in a split second, all those feelings and thoughts you have been repressing come back all at once in one massive wave that crashes over you, drowning everything else around you.

If that small of a change in his face has such a big effect on you, you wonder what else there is. What would a proper smile on him look like? Would he ever properly smile at you? With you? For you? And if it was the other way around, if it was you wearing a cocky grin, looking down at him, how would he—

Oh, oh no. You’re in it bad. So bad. 

The sound of your name snaps you back to reality, where Cal is offering you the now open jar, waiting for you to take it. You blink a couple of times, your eyes moving from his face to the jar, then back to his face. One of his brows rises to give you a questioning look. Heat spreads on your face, ears and neck at the multiple images that appeared in your head. You give him a quick thanks, grab the jar, and turn around to hide from his gaze. Already familiarised with his kitchen, you walk up to the counter to rummage in the drawer for a spoon. Taking a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart, you turn back around. Cal is still standing by the table, following your every movement with his yellow eyes. And for some reason, you feel like all the walls you had managed to pick away at ever so slowly have been pulled up again around him.

You’ve heard stories of Force users being able to read minds, and right now you really hope they’re not true. What if he can sense your thoughts? Is he… disgusted at you? 

Somehow managing to regain your composure and willing away most of the prickling heat on your face, you explain to him what this spread is called in your mother tongue, which translates to something like “sweet of milk”, and how delicious it is.

You’re still by the counter, not really wanting to get into Cal’s space, and you take a spoonful of the jar’s contents and put it into your mouth.

“Hm, it’s so good,” you say, offering him the spoon to give it a try himself.

He suddenly seems to revert to his normal self and approaches you, grabbing a new spoon from the drawer. Ah, you should have known, he doesn’t like sharing cutlery. Or cups. Or… anything, really. Odd, but you’ve always just attributed it to him being scared of germs or the like, which is very valid. It’s probably the same reason why he’s wearing gloves all the time, especially outside. 

As he twists the spoon in his mouth, you see Cal’s face light up for the first time; he likes it. You’re relieved.   

“So glad you like it! Alright then, let’s make some pancakes. You’re going to love them,” you exclaim. 

Seeing the rest of the imported goods on the table, you tell him to try some candy while you work. You take off your bracelet, leaving it next to the box, and roll up your sleeves to get to work.

While the pancakes are cooking, you watch Cal’s reaction to the sweets. He first inspects it closely in his fingers; it’s shaped like a short stick with stripes in different shades of pink. You tell him the wrappers have trivia facts about animals, but they’re written in your native language. So while he chews on the soft candy, he walks over to you, holding out the wrapper for you to read.

“What does it say?” he asks, and you can’t help feel extremely endeared. Your eyes fall to the paper in his hands.

“It’s about banthas. It says that both females and males have a pair of spiralling horns, and they grow a knob a year. So you can tell the age of banthas by how curly their horns are,” you read out loud. “Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“Interesting,” Cal remarks with a short nod of his head. He chews some more on the candy while inspecting the drawing of the bantha on the wrapper. He seems to like them a lot. In fact, he goes back to the table and takes a second one. He asks you what they’re called again, saying he will probably order some more for himself. 

Flipping yet another pancake, you tell him their name and smile to yourself, glad you managed to introduce something nice and colourful into his life. Not that being an Inquisitor wasn’t fun… was it? Truthfully, you have no idea how they feel about what they do out there. You’ve tried getting something out of Cal, but whenever the topic of his work comes up, he shuts you out. You also try not to listen too closely to the gory details of their work that are talked about in quick whispers in the hallways. Either way, you like to think that you broke whatever monotony there could be for Cal, even if only a little bit. Maybe he even looks forward to your moments together, as you do.

The Inquisitor asks what the other jar with the herbs is. You explain that it’s actually leaves for an infusion, and ask if he could put the kettle on.

Suddenly this whole moment feels strangely domestic, and you reprimand your heart for yet another beat it just skipped. It’s just a normal hangout between… colleagues. Making pancakes and having tea. Absolutely normal, strictly professional behaviour, yes. 

You flip the last pancake and watch as Cal stands up to get back to the kitchen, but when he puts the jar with the tea leaves back on the table without really looking, his bare hand grazes your bracelet. With a sharp breath through his teeth, he suddenly tenses up, and his gaze is fixed on some spot behind you, without really focusing on anything. You’re not sure what’s happening, but he’s completely frozen up, and you start panicking.

After turning off the heat on the stove, you hurry to stand in front of the Inquisitor, unsure what to do. You call his name repeatedly, but he doesn’t react. Your hand comes up to the side of his arm but you hesitate, stopping just before touching him. Looking up at him, you try calling his name again; still no reaction. So you don’t really have a choice. You place your hand on his upper arm and give him a gentle shake.

“Cal,” you call yet again. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

He takes a big gulp of air, as if he had forgotten to breathe all this time. After blinking a couple of times, it seems he’s back with you, and his eyes dart back to yours, boring into your skull with an intensity that takes you off guard. You’re quick to remove your hand from him and instinctively take a step back to give him some space.

“A-Are you okay?” you ask. “You just spaced out really hard for a moment.”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine,” he replies, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter. “It was… something occurred to me that really took me by surprise, is all.”

“… Right,” you stretch out the word, waiting for him to explain what he meant further, but he reverts completely back to normal in an instant. 

“You asked me to put the kettle on, right?” he asks and is already on his way to the kitchen. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you follow him with your gaze, confused, then remember an important detail, so you join him in the kitchen. “Oh, but don’t let it boil. That will ruin the leaves. Just gotta heat up the water.”

“Got it.”

— — —

After some more preparations, you’re both sat at the table, and you show him how to eat the pancakes. They’re not like the thick, small pancakes he knows. These ones are larger in diameter and very thin. You demonstrate how to evenly apply the blue spread, stack the cubes of fruit you prepped, then roll up the pancakes like a tube and pick it up in your hands.

“Ta-da,” you exclaim. “And now, enjoy.”

Taking a big bite, you squeal at how good it tastes. It’s been ages since you’ve had this! 

Cal imitates what you did earlier, putting together his own pancake tube, and takes a bite as well. Even he can’t help the low moan that escapes through his nose at this fantastic combination. You giggle at the sight, enjoying it immensely that you get to see all these sides to him that probably no one else has seen. Once more, your brain is invaded by the thought of what else there might be to Inquisitor Cal Kestis. If he allowed you to lower wall after wall, layer after layer… what would you discover? 

You shake your head to rid yourself of the images starting to form. Nope, can’t go there. 

Instead, you decide to show him how the tea is brewed. You grab a small cup and pour some tea leaves in there, which are chopped much more finely than other loose tea Cal has seen. Then you place the special straw that came in the box in the cup. Cal has never seen something like it; it’s essentially a metal tube that is flat at the top and ends in a bulbous shape at the bottom full of little holes.

“So, let me get this straight,” he starts once he understands the mechanics behind your concoction. “Instead of putting the contained leaves in water and then removing them to drink the tea, you just put loose leaves in the water and filter it through the straw to drink the tea?”

“Essentially, yes!”

“That’s so many extra steps…”, Cal sighs, bringing his hand up to hold his temple.

“It’s literally the same,” you laugh. “Just in a different order.”

Pouring hot water into the cup, careful not to overspill it, you offer the cup to him.

“The things you make me do…” he says under his breath, taking the cup and giving it a tentative sniff. 

“Oh please,” you say teasingly, and a grin spreads on your face as you prop up your chin on your elbows. “As if you’re not having the time of your life today. I saw how many candies you ate earlier.”

Cal’s eyes dart down to your lips and back up so quickly that you miss it. With a defeated sigh, he gives the tea a try, grimacing at the bitter taste. You chuckle.

“It certainly is an acquired taste, but give it a chance. It gets better with time, trust me.” Kinda like you, you think.

He looks at the cup and back at you, kinda lost on what to do now.

“You’re supposed to suck on the straw until there’s no more water left, then you pass it back and I pour another one,” you explain.

“So many extra steps,” he repeats with a playful shake of his head, but he does as you said, if only to humour you. Once the straw makes the typical noise of there not being any more liquid at the bottom of a cup, he passes it back to you. With a smile, you pour more water into it, and have a drink yourself. He seems a bit shocked about that.

“Oh yeah, this is a drink passed around in a group, and everyone drinks from the same straw…,” you explain. Not to sound like a 12-year-old, a voice in your head says, but that just was an indirect kiss with an Inquisitor. You clear your throat. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked for a second straw so we could both use one each. I was going to offer another round of tea to you after I’m done with this one, as it usually goes, but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

Cal straightens up in his seat in surprise at your words.

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

“You don’t like sharing cutlery and stuff like that, right?” you ask, now confused as well, thinking back to when he clearly grabbed another spoon to try the spread. 

“Oh, uhm, that’s… never mind.”

He fidgets with his fingers for a second, but when he notices you watching him, he hides his hands under the table. You merely hum in response, taking another sip. Is he… nervous? The mood seems to have shifted again and now you’re completely lost as to what’s going on. All those years of training and studying, yet this man before you remains a mystery.

The rest of the evening is spent eating pancakes and drinking tea, holding a pleasant conversation, albeit a superficial one. At times, it feels like his eyes are completely fixed on you, but within seconds, it’s like he can’t even look at you. 

Concluding you’ve overstayed your welcome, you offer to quickly wash up, then be on your way. He merely nods and helps to bring all the dishes to the counter, then goes back to the table. You assume it’s to get another candy from the box. But you don’t mind; you offered to wash up after all. 

Silence envelops the whole room, the only sound being the water coming from the tap. As you’re putting the last of the dishes on the little drying rack, you sigh. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea after all. Full of questions and doubts, you dry your hands on the towel, fully set on ending the evening by thanking him for getting the things in the first place, saying you had a good time and keeping your goodbyes short. You aren’t even sure if you’ll manage to appear here with a straight face for dinner tomorrow after everything that happened today, the problem being mainly the things playing out in your own head.

Being so deep in thought, you don’t notice the presence behind you, so when you turn around, you’re almost nose to nose with Cal. You can’t help the surprised little “ah, kriff!” that escapes you at his sudden appearance. With the counter behind you though, there’s nowhere for you to back away to, and Cal isn’t budging from where he stands. 

“Don’t forget this,” he says in a low voice and holds up your bracelet, which you had left on the table earlier. He’s so close that you can feel his soft breaths on your face.

“R-right, thanks.”

Looking anywhere but at the Inquisitor, you take the piece of jewellery and put it on your wrist. It takes you a couple of tries though, because your fingers are trembling. In fear, anticipation or something else, you don’t really know. You fumble for a moment until you finally manage to secure the clasp. Cal however, is still standing right in front of you, his hands now coming up to rest on the counter on either side of you. You don’t dare to breathe.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” you ask in an impossibly small voice. 

“I think you know.�� 

It takes every last drop of courage in your body, but you scrape it all together and put it into lifting your eyes to look at Cal. And when your gaze meets his, the breath is knocked out of your lungs entirely. He’s looking down at you so intensely, so hungry, you can’t even begin to describe what you’re feeling. Your brain is long gone, you realise, so now you’re entirely at the mercy of what Cal does and whatever physical reaction that gets out from you. And it seems he’s very much aware of this, enjoying the state you find yourself in, if that tiny side smile is anything to go by as he leans in next to your head. You go completely stiff. 

“If you want me to back off, tell me now,” he says directly into your ear.

You take a shaky breath, and the last of the voices in your head all but screaming at you to get out of there is abruptly shut up. Anything and everything in your mind and body is Cal Kestis right now, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s using some Force mind trick on you or if this is all you. That thought dissipates instantaneously though when you feel Cal’s breath tickle your ear, still waiting for your response. You merely shake your head, and it’s so subtle he probably wouldn’t have caught it if he didn’t have his face right next to yours. 

With his cheek now against yours, you can feel him smile. Properly smile. 

“Good,” is all he says, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. 

His arms snake around your waist, pressing your body into his, and he devours you with such ferocity that you need a moment to regain control in your limbs. Once you do, your hands are all over him. One fists the shirt at his back, the other goes into the hair at the nape of his neck and you give it a gentle, tentative pull. The groan that leaves his lips is intoxicating, and you know right then and there that there’s no going back from this. Not tonight, not ever. This is all it took for you to know you’re officially addicted to Cal Kestis. 

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss further, his tongue pressing against your own and pushing both your hips into the counter behind you. You can’t help the low moan that escapes you. Any other day you would have felt embarrassed, but today you don’t care. You’re making out with a kriffin’ Inquisitor and it’s great. As if he could hear your thoughts, Cal gives your bottom lip a nip, starting to leave a trail of bites and licks along your jaw, while his hands slide to the backside of your thighs. Before you can process what he’s doing, you're being lifted onto the free counter space like you weigh nothing, with Cal standing between your legs. One of his hands slowly moves further up your thigh, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. 

Suddenly, something occurs to you, and with a breathless “wait” you tilt your head to the side to take a breather and try to regain any rational thought you may have left. You’re both panting heavily, and while he looks openly annoyed at your interruption, he places one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, then backs away a bit to let you take a break. 

“What,” he finally says, and it’s less of a question and more of an impatient bark, as you still haven’t said anything.

Your brain is going at a thousand miles an hour, there’s too much input from everywhere, but you still manage to find the words somehow.

“I just- This is- Not that I’m not enjoying this immensely, but… why? All of a sudden?” you ask, finally feeling like you’ve caught your breath again.  

Cal huffs with a slight roll of his eyes, running a hand through his hair, and while you probably should be a little bit offended at his gesture, you’re suddenly way too focused on what you have the chance of witnessing: the way his hair messily falls into his face once he drops his hand. The clear blush adorning his freckled and scarred cheeks, nose and even the tips of his ears. The puffy lips, mouth still parted. The backlighting coming from the main room behind him almost gives him an ethereal glow, making the golden hue in his eyes stand out even more. You commit the image to memory. 

“The bracelet, when I touched it earlier,” he starts explaining, but when he sees you just as dishevelled as him, he decides he can’t be bothered right now. “It’s called psychometry, I’ll explain it to you later.”

With an impatient grunt, he just picks you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Right now there are more pressing matters,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You realise you’re being carried towards the door that’s always been closed every time you come over. When you both approach, they slide open with a hiss and you’re met with his bedroom, as you’ve always speculated that’s what lies behind it. 

Letting you fall backwards onto his large bed rather unceremoniously, he starts climbing on top of you, but before putting any weight on you, he stops and looks down at you with a serious face. 

“Last chance to back out,” he offers.

You can’t help at chuckle, and grin up at him. 

“As if.”

Your hands shoot up to hold him by the collar. You have no idea where the confidence even comes from at this point.

“I want you, Cal,” you say breathlessly, and that’s all it takes for him to be on top of and all over you again. Let’s just say pancakes and tea aren't the only treats you’ll be getting today.

— — —

A/N 2: inq!cal has a sweet tooth, honk if you agree

A/N 3: where my palitos de la selva gang at B)

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

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.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being another displaced Padawan with Cal Kestis

Cal Kestis x jedi!reader

warnings: angst, STAR WARS JEDI SURVIVOR SPOILERS

a/n:

prompt:

you and cal went way back

like, jedi padawan back

so after the purge, about five years later, you guys reunited by chance. thanks to cere junda, no less

and, god, seeing someone so familiar after trying to get by on your own, someone who knew the feeling of the trajectory of your life being thrown off before you were ready, that wasn’t easy to come by

“you’re here” -cal

“i’m here” -you

“we survived” -cal

“just barely” -you

cere was delighted that the two of you could have lifted each other’s spirits so much, which was very much needed in desperate times, as you two were just given a very important mission by a former jedi master in your order

you and cal kicked some serious ass together, helping one another relearn old lessons your masters had taught during your youth

“i think running across walls was the hardest thing i was ever taught” -you

“it took me forever to get that right! i could only get two steps in before i plummeted to the floor!” -cal

you shared a lot of stories and emotions during travels, in private

and not all of them were positive, but this was the first chance you’d had in five years to face these emotions, to air out your feelings

“do you miss the clones? i was so fond of our battalion, they were always so kind to me” -you

“i think…i think that was the worst part. the people who defended us in battle, gave me pep talks before training, always there, that same face at every turn suddenly behind the blaster that was meant to put me down” -cal

“i miss them” -you

cal and you had your missions together…and separately. you’d be on one planet and he on the other, trying to race the empire and inquisitors to the holocron

“it could happen all over again” -you

“it could be the key to saving the galaxy” -cal

“or we’d be creating a generational tragedy” -you

“so would the empire” -cal

“you’ve got me there” -you

cal gifting you ponchos from his travels (lol)

“any chance you like pink?” -cal

“well…” -you

braving zeffo alone while you knew cal was somewhere far more dangerous, you had a bad feeling about it

but your teachings from the order were always the same, no attachment. mission first, feelings second…no, last

but on cal’s adventure, he found merrin, a nightsister from dathomir

you hadn’t seen any nightsisters since ventress, which did happen to make you feel a bit off

“cal…you sure?” -you

“trust me, y/n. things have changed. merrin is just like us” -cal

“cal told me much about you. another survivor. a pleasure” -merrin

you and merrin grew quite close actually

she was truly spectacular, and swapping stories with her was sort of educational

“wait…the jedi responsible for the nightsister genocide? you said lightsabers, plural? how many?” -you

“four” -merrin

“two green, two blue?” -you

“precisely. how did you know?” -merrin

“hang on, no way—” -cal

“my master killed him shortly before we were split up…when the clones turned” -you

“grevious? really? master kenobi finally got him?” -cal

“who is this ‘grevious?’” -merrin

“general grevious, he was a separatist general—a cyborg. he wasn’t a jedi, he stole lightsabers from his kills. he ordered the attack on your home” -cal

“i’m so sorry, merrin” -you

you three were still healing from many scars, but doing it together was much more achievable than trying alone

it was a wonder you even made it to fortress inquisitorius

you, cal, cere. all three of you fought like hell to save those kids.

now, cal and you, you two had much different perspectives than say, cere or trilla

displaced padawans. little guidance. cal was barely old enough to even be a padawan learner, but times were desperate and the order called upon the youngling to start quite early. you were in a similar boat. it made you two see eye to eye better than most

trilla, a padawan with much more training and insight, one who was failed by the order that she was most loyal to. failed by her own master.

cere, a devout jedi master who failed many people who were counting on her. who lost herself to a side of herself that every jedi is supposed to fight.

and just before any resolution could come of all of you together, the famed and feared darth vader showed himself

and the sinking feeling you felt before he arrived froze you

“what is it, y/n? y/n?” -cere

*ominous breathing sounds*

you shook off the feeling, fleeing instead

cal and you were split up when you swore vader made a point to hold you back

“run cal! get out of here!” -you

“y/n l/n, i was hoping i would see you” -vader “where is obi-wan?!”

“i thought you were dead” -you

“is that what he told you?” -vader

“you’re going to kill me to get back at him? i haven’t seen him since the purge, anakin! i left!” -you

“there is no anakin!” -vader “did you leave, or did he leave you?”

“are you just going to let cal get away?” -you

“he can’t get far” -vader

“my journey is not important to you” -you

“you are like me, y/n. obi-wan failed us. these inquisitors are weak, impressionable, disposable. but i know how you think. i know how he thinks. i give you the opportunity to join me. fight with me.” -vader

“i saw the holotapes, anakin. i saw what you did to the younglings and i will not let you do it again. we are not alike, obi-wan did not fail me. i took a page out of ahsoka’s book, i found my own path. and it is not beside you.” -you

“this is not over, y/n. i trust you’ll find your way out” -vader, force pushing you off a ledge

you did find you way back out and merrin was quick to save you before going back for cal

you were left completely unharmed, as well, which was quite the surprise to everyone else

“what happened back there, y/n?” -cal

“nothing i’d like to relive” -you

cal nodded and let it go, focusing on the holocron floating before you all

your mind kept replaying memories as they discussed what to do with it

memories of anakin’s massacre. vader’s speech. younglings you couldn’t save. luke and leia somewhere across the galaxy. the inquisitors.

“destroy it.” -you

in one quick swipe, cal took his lightsaber to the glowing blue cube. no questions asked

and from there on, it was no longer about the order. you remembered why you left in the first place. the purge, the politics, your master couldn’t contain himself. your troops turned their blasters on you. everything you were taught was bantha fodder. and you were just a padawan

it was now about disassembling. scaring the people in power while giving the little guy some hope.

“this is a much better gig than obi-wan playing by the rules” -you

“from what you told me, him and anakin never played by the rules” -cal

the name made you shudder, but you pushed past it

“well, anakin was known as the rulebreaker. obi-wan always tried to reel him in. but, i’ve noticed a rule or two that master kenobi had bent” -you

“anakin has a padawan too, right?” -cal

“he did. she was also a rule breaker. when she left the order, i almost followed her. last i heard, she went to mandalore with half of the 501st. i, uh—” -you

“right…” -cal

you were still haunted from the encounter on nurr. still hadn’t told cal and it was eating you up inside.

but the fighting made it feel better

dismantling, stealing, helping

and then merrin left. and cere. and greez settled down. and you and cal were just two makeshift jedi knights with your tragic pasts and your need to keep your place in the galaxy

and keep each other close

but not too close

those rules you followed, the one’s obi-wan followed, you threw them out a long time ago. the jedi order was corrupt. you examined each council master postmortem and decided that they were all flawed despite their rank. you hated them for it.

but decided the one teaching you would follow would be to lose hate, a step to the dark side.

you didn’t really even know at this point, what was the difference between right and wrong anymore

cal and you continued fighting. joined up with saw gerrera. never left each other’s sides

which…sparked feelings you’d never really been taught or told how to deal with

only aversion, really. but it wasn’t like you didn’t really talk about it

“i don’t really see the problem with it. look at everything else we do, that’s not exactly the jedi way” -you

“it’s dangerous” -cal

“love is dangerous?” -you

“attachment is” -cal

“i figured you already had attachments. we were all a crew before this” -you

“i let them all go” -cal

“and you’d let me go?” -you

you began constantly questioning these ways and trying to fight for a new future with cal, without pressing too hard

but it was hard to ignore those feelings and harder to constantly be denied by your old life

and it was harder when the new crew always teased you two

“come on, kestis. if you don’t, i will” -gabs

“yeah, just go for it. who’s it hurting?” -bravo

“i’m just not ready to go there” -cal

you were more bothered than you let on

but you always put the mission first

up until your trip back to coruscant

“this is just a reminder of how little it all matters now. there’s no one left.” -you

“that’s why it matters” -cal

the intensity of this mission made it so it was just the two of you again

and maybe that would spark something…but you doubted it

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @gabile18 // @sweetjedi // @retvenkos // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @dontyousassmeok // @dindjarinsspouse // @zoeyserpentluck // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @sheridans-dynamos // @lady-violet // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @simp-legend // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @your-local-simp0 // @elenavampire21 // @pheonixfire777 //

[creative-frequency]

DAY 5: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x Reader: 39. “Oh no, you are not dragging me into this.”

The solitary evening is as perfect as it can get on Nur – a mug of hot beverage, soft pillows and warm blankets, and most importantly, a good book. The chime of the doorbell takes you by surprise as it should be way too late for anyone to need your attention. It’s your day off, after all. One of the few you’re allowed to have just because it’s your birthday.

With a groan, you toss the book away and stomp off to open the door.

“Yes?” You don’t bother hiding your irritation as you speak into the intercom.

“It’s me.”

Ice floods through you, followed by an instant wave of warm tingles.

“J-just a moment!” You spin around in mild panic and run off to check yourself in the mirror. ‘It’s ironic how much you’ve come to care about your looks in the presence of this particular person.

When you finally open the door, Inquisitor Cal Kestis, the Eleventh Brother, is leaning on the opposite wall in the narrow corridor. He looks so out of place in the maintenance staff living quarters.

“Sorry to make you wait,” you breathe out in a tangled sentence and gulp as you meet his eyes.

“No worries.”

Cal takes a careful, inspecting look all over your body, pausing on your night shirt. You realise you have nothing underneath it and swallow. It’s not exactly the first time you’ve been in less than full uniform in his presence, but just the notion makes your heart beat a little faster.

Cal pushes off the wall and you make room for him to step inside your room. He saunteers further in as if he owns the place, just like always.

“What’s up?” you ask, barely reining in the tremble of anticipation threatening to take over your voice. You have absolutely no idea what he could want this time.

Cal doesn’t reply at first, only continuing to rake his gaze all over you and you start to wonder what he is really after.

“Cal?” you ask softly.

“You’ve got the next week off, right?” he asks so casually that you just know he is up to something.

Your brows scrunch. There must be a misunderstanding. “No, just tomorrow because it’s my– uh, nevermind. Why?”

“I heard Naboo is beautiful this time of the year.” A smirk sneaks to Cal’s face.

He knows, you realise. He is planning something and as always, you should be worried about how it’s going to end for you. You can’t just take a week off work to go on a picnic around the galaxy, even if it’s with him.

“Oh no,” you back up a few steps, “You’re not dragging me into this.”

“Fine, I’ll persuade you, if you’ll allow me the chance,” Cal says. His smirk widens and once again you’re just floored by the attention 

“I guess I can do that,” you reply.

[psychosith]

Echo

cal kestis x reader

summary: despite being close for years, you and cal go your separate ways after a particularly harsh argument. cal doesn’t see or hear of you for a long time, but stumbles across an old jacket of yours that reveals something to him

warnings: angsttttt, yelling/arguing, injuries, death, perhaps ooc!mean cal

a/n: i’m so sorry to the reqs sitting in my drafts ive had no motivation😭 specifically to the person who requested modern!anakin @ a halloween party it’s a little late for that now i feel like…. but anyways y’all might not know this but i’m obsessed w our boy cal and UGH. this prompt from @fallen-vic just struck me right and i had to get writing right away

the last four months had been a blur.

one second you were stripping an old star destroyer on bracca with cal, and the next he was fighting an imperial inquisitor while you cowered away in the corner. then you had boarded a ship with a lanky woman and abrasive latero. they had taken you to a planet hidden from the empire, a place where you thought you and cal could live safely. you couldn’t have been more wrong.

cal returned from the temple on bogano that first day talking about restoring the jedi order and a holocron? from there, it was all downhill. back and forth between kashyyyk, zeffo, and dathomir, all the while cal was forced to face strong enemies that left him on the brink of death every day. and you were tasked with patching him up at the end of every mission.

too many times have you entered his rooms while he was preparing to leave again and begged him to stay. it was always the same answer- i’ll be back before you know it. he couldn’t know, though, the feelings you harbored for him. he couldn’t understand how it pained you physically to watch him leave and come back beaten and bruised. but you stayed, because you loved him, and because you believed he wanted you with him.

it was all too much for you today. it seemed insane; they were planning to infiltrate the fortress inquisitorius and retrieve the holocron. you had stopped on a small planet to stock up on supplies before the big mission, and you were in your usual position: pleading with cal.

“cal, please,” you begged, tears welling up in your eyes. “this is just- it’s too dangerous cal! i mean, an imperial fort, for fucks sake! cal, if you didn’t come back from this… i don’t know-“

he cut you off with a reassuring hand on your arm. “y/n, i’ll be alright. i’ll have cere with me, and i’m stronger than ever. trust me.”

“you say that every time, you know. and every time, without fail, you come back closer to death than i’ve ever seen you. cal, we’ve found you passed out in the mud on kashyyyk. we’ve found you slumped against a generator on zeffo with a blaster wound in your stomach. no one will be there to find you if things go wrong this time, cal.” you say numbly, vaguely aware that there’s nothing you can say to make him stay.

“you’re being dramatic.” he says plainly. “you have no reason to be worried. i always come back, y/n. this time will be no different. you need to calm down.”

you groan in frustration, at his naïveté. “no, cal! you don’t understand… how much it hurts to watch you go. and who knows where you would be without me to put your pieces back together.”

you hear him scoff and look down at your hands as tears finally fall down your cheeks. you can tell he’s stressed by the tension in his shoulders.

“without you? y/n, i don’t need you to do this.” his words hurt, but you try to tell yourself the mission is getting to his head, that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying.

“y/n,” he says, waving a hand in front of your face, “did you hear me? i. don’t. need. you. if you’re so worried about me, maybe you should just leave. then i wouldn’t be bothering you so much.” he stood up angrily and marched off.

was he being honest? did he really want you to leave? all these years you had told yourself that he needed you with him, but maybe you had been mistaken.

you didn’t give yourself time to think. cere and greez had both made it clear that your presence on the mantis was unnecessary, and now that cal had said the same you had to go. you only packed the bare essentials: a canister of water, a couple weeks of rations, and a thick jacket for cold nights. you left through the front entrance without a word to anyone. cal simply watched you go.

a year later - cal's pov

there was no use in trying to hide it, it had been a hard year for cal. a year made much harder by your absence. he had tried to tell himself that you leaving was your decision, that it wasn't his fault. but as he played the argument over in his mind he found himself regretting everything he'd said. cal had been nervous, scared even, of the upcoming mission in the fortress. he'd let trilla and the empire get in his head, and it had cost him everything.

even after he'd retrieved the holocron - and ultimately destroyed it - he never searched for you. he didn't know why. the urge had struck him many times, but he never knew where to begin looking or what he would say to get you back.

it hurt even now, as cal lay in his bunk on the mantis weeping silently to himself. the mantis was empty, the engine humming softly as it flew through hyperspace. all the lights were out and cal's pillow was damp with tears. he hesitantly rose from his bed, staggering to the navigation panel in a sleep-deprived stupor. his cheeks are stained and his hair is tousled as he falls back into the pilot's chair, and he plugs the coordinates to a forgotten outer rim planet into the navigation system.

cal was exhausted, hungry, and mentally drained, but he managed to make it back to his bunk before he passed out.

. . .

something in the cockpit beeped quite loudly, waking cal from his sleep and alerting him that they were nearing their destination. the royal blue color of nez peron was pleasing to the eye, but brought back painful memories for cal. this was where they had made their last supply run before heading toward the fortress. this was the last place he saw the love of his life.

landing the mantis was the easy part; finding you, not so much. cal started in the sparse cities, scanning cantinas and shops, asking about a y/n l/n at every apartment complex and inn. he began to lose hope as he neared the edge of the latest city. just then he remembered you talking absentmindedly as he worked on his lightsaber, saying how it was your dream to live in the forest and live off the lands. it sounded crazy at the time, but now it made sense.

with a newfound passion, cal began searching the forests and plains for you. each dead end made him want to find you more and more, but there were no signs of life anywhere he looked.

one day, he was scanning the ground for any human tracks when a piece of fabric caught his eye. it was dusty, black, and oddly familiar. there were pieces of the same fabric just a little further up the trail he was following. up ahead, cal could just make out the shape of your thick winter coat on the ground.

his steps picked up into a light jog as he neared the jacket. as he examined it closer, he saw a dark stain had dried down on the stomach, and when he bent over to pick it up he was flooded with a powerful force echo.

_______

you had misjudged how hard life in the wild would be. the coat you wore did almost nothing to keep you warm, the water you brought only lasted for a few days, and the rations you thought would last had gone bad within the month. you were cold and hungry, and had only a pairing knife to ward off any threats in the forest. this would be a crucial mistake.

it was a particularly cold day and you were resting against a tree when you heard the crunch of leaves and the distinct mechanical whirring of an electrostaff. raiders. well, just one this time. it was a difficult feat, but you managed to ward off the raider not without sustaining many injuries. you had garnered a deep wound in your thigh and a large gash in your shoulder, luckily most of your vital organs were intact.

you hardly had time to catch your breath before a large mammal had sprung up from a ditch and pinned you to the ground. you screamed and struggled for your knife. your wounds had impaired your fighting skills, and you didn’t last long before the predator had beaten you into the floor. it was so, so cold. you must have lost your jacket at some point. you supposed the animal had lost interest, as it wandered off back into the trees, leaving you in a pool of your own blood.

the sun set behind the trees and you were still laying there, unable to move, slowly succumbing to the cold embrace of death. you could form only one coherent thought in your adrenaline crazed mind, and thus it became your last word.

“cal”

_______

the memory was like a knife to the heart for cal. he was helpless as he watched you draw your last breath, only to utter his name before closing your eyes for the final time. it finally dawned on him.

you were dead.

cal fell to his knees beside your tattered coat, a broken cry escaping his lips. it was all his fault. if’s and should’ves ran circles around his mind, but he understood the depth of this. you were gone, stolen from this world far to soon. cal mourned. he sobbed into his hands for hours on end, cursing you for leaving, cursing cere and greez for letting you leave, and cursing himself for letting his love for you blind him. of course he needed you. he always would. but he couldn’t have you any more.

his mind was blurry as he frantically followed the path he was on, searching for your body. he tripped and stumbled down a leaf covered hill, where he saw you. you were exactly as you were in the force echo, but your cheeks were hollow and your skin was sickly green. you had been dead for a long time. cal ran to your body, crying your name. he hoisted you into his arms and wept into your dirty hair.

“i love you” he muttered softly, hoping that perhaps you could hear the words he was to cowardly to speak when you were alive.

a/n 2: BYE the ending is so rushed. sorry.

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

The Way He Looks at You Series

Valentine's Day Bonus Content: Festival of Love III: Need

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Chapter Summary

You and Cal work together to deal with the effects of the drug. Rating: 18+ Words: 3.5K

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

The kiss is hot; tongues sliding past one another, desperate to taste and feel every inch of the other’s mouth. Finally, touching her like this, my overwhelmed lower body humps the space between her legs. I can’t help myself. She is equally eager and kisses me with more ferocity than she had before the accident. 

I pull away from her lips, trailing messy kisses down her neck. She rewards my efforts with small moans, her fingers raking through my scalp, desperate to hold me near. I pin her against the wall with my body, releasing one hand from her thighs to unbutton my pants. I need to get inside of her, to stake my claim on her body and remind her of how she used to yearn for my touch. 

It’s not how I imagined us getting back together, but it’s inconsequential. She stiffens before moving her hands to press against my chest, pushing me away. My stomach drops, realizing that this is likely a preview of my inability to win her back past today. 

I pull back, allowing her bare feet to touch back onto the soft carpet. A frown on my face as I look at her. I touch my hands gently to her exposed arms, hoping to console her, and bring her back to wanting me. 

She stares at my chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

I repress the building hurt and rage. “Don’t ever apologize for touching me.” 

She meets my gaze, her eyes filled with regret and lust. My heart breaks, knowing she is not mine, that she still belongs to a man who cast her aside. 

Her hands continue to push against me, requiring I step back to appease her. “I’m so sorry.  I just have to… This is not happening. I gotta go.” 

She pulls away, turning towards our bedroom, my fingers lingering on her arm as she steps out of reach. “No, I’m sorry I shouldn-” 

She doesn’t turn back, slipping through the open door and closing it to escape me. My eyes close as I stand where she left me, coming to terms with my failure. 

I take a few steps backwards until I am leaning against the opposite wall that I had pinned her against. My body feels heavy, or perhaps it’s just my heart. Either way, I allow gravity to overtake me, sliding down the wall until I am seated at its base. 

It’s time to release her since it is clear we cannot rebuild. She’ll return to the Rebellion, to the Jedi. My enemy will train my son; perhaps for the best, at least my child will not face the devastation of the Dark Side. 

I imagine her life, watching her hold my son, perhaps pregnant with another of the Jedi’s children, fighting against the Empire, growing old. Without me. While I sit in this tower, knowing she exists but refusing to act on the knowledge of new Force users. Likely being executed to protect her. 

She’ll never know the extent of my love for her, the extent of how she changed me. How she comes into the lives of others and improves them. If I cannot give her that appreciation, I hope the Jedi figures it out and worships her as she deserves. 

A few tears fall from my eyes, dropping and disappearing into the dense black material of my pants. Despite the pain I feel, I remain hard; the drug working relentlessly to keep me in this needy state. 

I rise to my feet, knowing what I must do, preparing to tell her the truth about our meal. We’ll get through the effect of today separately and I’ll write myself a note explaining what happened today and that it’s time to let her go. Tomorrow I’ll ensure she safely leave Coruscant. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

You’re in the bathroom, staring in horror at your reflection, when you hear a knock at the door. You don’t immediately answer, not wanting to face the consequences of your actions. What you did is wrong, despite how good Cal looks. You aren’t sure what your relationship is with Theo, if Cal is telling the truth. 

Cal knocks again. “Hey, I’m really sorry. I should have told you sooner.” 

“What?” 

He sighs. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think the Chak juice was tampered with during transport. I looked it up after I began feeling, uh, horny.” 

Your mouth drops open at his crude words and confession. The pieces fall into place on why you’ve been so willing to touch and kiss Cal. Part of you feels better knowing it’s not your fault. 

“There have been other cases of it being laced with a sex pollen, of sorts. I’m really sorry, I should have told you once I found out. I was worried you would think I had done it on purpose.” 

You feel suspicious; you know how badly Cal wants you, maybe he orchestrated everything to trick you into fucking him. Eyes narrowing at the closed door, assuming the worst intentions of the man behind it. You say nothing, allowing him to dig his own grave. 

“Look, I’m going to give you space to do what you need to do to take care of any urges the drug may have caused. The bedroom is yours. I’ll be locking myself away in my office. If you need anything, just knock. Again, I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to trick you, I just wanted to give you something special. I understand if you’re mad.” 

His voice and willingness to leave you alone doesn’t align with your suspicions; perhaps he’s telling the truth. He could easily take advantage of you today, but he isn’t. He could have forced himself on you in the hall, but he released you the moment you pushed him away. Cal has never crossed a line on purpose, always requiring your consent. 

The ache in your cunt urges you to believe him, to forgive him. You shake your head and sigh, knowing that you should think your actions through. Impulsivity is the reason you are now hiding in his bathroom. 

Your hand moves to open the door, ignoring your concerns. “Cal, wait…” 

Cal turns, releasing the handle of the partially opened bedroom door. “Yes?” 

You chew your lip before speaking, searching his face for any sign of lying. “You didn’t do it on purpose?” 

His forehead wrinkles with worry, panic clearly etched into the lines. “No, never. I would never trick you or try to have you without your consent. All I wanted was to give you a special day.” 

You watch him for a moment longer, waiting to see if he drops his guard, but he looks genuinely concerned that you view him as a monster. A special day, you think, feeling your own wetness and seeing the bulge in his pants, a smile breaking on your face. “Oh, it’s special alright.” 

He matches your expression, eyes crinkling in flirtatious joy. “It definitely is up there.” 

He waits, and you wonder if he is in your mind. You don’t want him to know your decision before you do, so you open your mouth and start speaking, allowing you both to discover what you will say. “You don’t have to go…maybe we can help each other out.” 

The smile wipes from Cal’s face, being replaced by a darker and hungrier expression. “I’m listening.” 

Your stomach fills with butterflies, reveling in the way he looks at you. He’s so handsome, the Jedi physique always does it for you. You’d like to see more of his body, to feel all of it, every inch. 

You can’t meet his eye as you speak and hear the bedroom door click closed. “My fingers aren’t cutting it. I NEED something inside of me.” 

To your surprise, he doesn’t immediately lunge at you. “You have two hands…” 

You search his face for answers as a smirk tugs at his lips. Speaking carefully and this time, looking right into his intense eyes. “Yes, but I need something…bigger.” 

Cal watches you for a breath before speaking. “My fingers?” 

You bite your lip, trying not to show how much you need his fingers in you. “Yes, and…maybe even bigger?” 

He smiles, but it’s predatory, as though he’s hunting you. “Oh. Yes, I can definitely provide that.” 

You chuckle. “You think it’s big enough?” 

He takes a step forward, chin raising, reminding you of his power. “It should keep you quite full.” 

You resist taking a step away. “One stipulation.” 

He steps forward again, dropping some of his dominant aura. “Anything.” 

“We pretend like this didn’t happen tomorrow. I refuse to make any big decisions about our relationship while under the effects of this…stuff.” 

Cal nods. “Absolutely. Today is a onetime deal. I won’t bring it up ever.” 

You give him a hard look. “You sure you can handle that?” 

He reaches out, middle finger trailing down your cheek, you lean into the touch. “Yes. I am only helping you.” 

You glance down at his clothed erection. “And I’m helping you?” 

He tilts your chin up. “You never have to help me.” 

“So I’m not?” 

He leans in. “You are, but your pleasure comes first.” 

You give him a mischievous look, raising your eyebrows. “Unless you do…” 

He chuckles softly, his face inches from yours. “I can’t promise I won’t be more sensitive than usual, but I’ve already cum twice and I’m still hard. I’ll keep you full and stay focused on you.” 

His proximity shuts down any humor you previously felt, looking into his eyes, then at his lips. “Yes, Cal.” 

He kisses you softly, his lips grazing across yours, waiting for your response. You tilt your head back, a sharp inhale parting your lips, Cal’s top lip fills the void. He starts slow, pressing kisses against your mouth, coaxing you into asking for more. 

As you push your tongue forward, Cal’s tongue moves to meet you. He is more gentle this time, savoring each kiss. 

“Cal, I appreciate how you’re kissing me. But I need you now.” 

Cal smiles, nose bumping against yours. “Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you.” 

You flush, embarrassed at being so honest. “Please, Cal, I don’t want to say it…” 

Cal shrugs and resumes the painfully slow kisses. You try to be okay with it, try to allow the delicate pace, but the drugs are making it harder to stay calm when you could ride him right now. 

After what feels like an eternity, you break the kiss, your palm on his chest, pushing him backwards. However, your fingers curl into the thin material of his tank top, preventing him from fully pulling away. He glances down at your hand in appreciation. 

“Fine, please just fuck me. Take off both our clothes, have me in every position you like. Please fill me now.” 

He tilts his head. “Now? I suppose I can improvise until our clothes are off.” 

One of his hands snakes down your body and between your thighs, plunging two fingers deep into your weeping hole, eliciting a groan from you. Your eyes flutter closed and you feel his free hand tug your dress up and over your head, exposing your naked body to him. He pumps his fingers into you, curling with each movement. 

You force your eyes open to watch as he undresses, excited to see his body for the first time. He reaches behind his neck to tug the material up and over his body, letting it land on his occupied wrist. You take in every part of his muscular form, mouth watering in delight. 

He gives you an amused look before meeting you for an open-mouthed kiss, tongues stroking against one another in need. You wrap your arms around his neck, hoping to pull him closer. Hearing the sound of pants sliding down his legs; you pull back to look but he does not release you from the kiss, instead guiding you backwards towards the bed. 

As the backs of your knees hit the mattress, Cal pulls his fingers out of your cunt, leaving you wanting. His shirt slips free of his wrist and you finally see him fully nude. He looks painfully erect, and you want to soothe both your desires. 

“On your back. I want to watch your face the first time you cum.” 

You move with haste into position and Cal follows you, his movements deliberate.  He settles between your spread legs, looking over your body. “So obedient.” 

You laugh. “Don’t get used to it.” 

He positions his length at your entrance. “We’ll see about that. I get the feeling you are going to do whatever I ask for the rest of today.” 

Cal doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond, instead pushing forward, sliding until he is fully inside of your soaked cunt. You reach out to grab his shoulder, needing to touch him more. 

“Fuck, Cal.”  

He pulls out, readying to thrust. “I intend to.” 

Your brain feels like it’s melting from the pleasure you are receiving, heightened by the drug’s hold on your mind. Cal pumps himself repeatedly into your body, each stroke slamming the head of his cock into your cervix. Neither of you keep your composure, both fighting to not orgasm. 

You speak first. “Cal, I’m really close.” 

Cal continues the brutal pace but forces himself to watch your face, keeping his promise. You look up into his eyes, seeing his desire, and something else. Watching someone so good looking take pleasure in your body pushes you over the edge, spasming and clenching around him. Cal watches as long as he can before his own eyes close, cumming with you. 

He doesn’t give you a break, which you are grateful for. One orgasm wasn’t enough, and you can’t stand the thought of being empty right now. He pulls out only for a moment, guiding you onto your hands and knees. 

As his cock enters you again, you feel his hand pushing down between your shoulder blades. At first, you aren’t sure what he is doing, but allow him to press you down into the mattress, arching your back. Each thrust feels more delicious in this position and you cry out. 

“Like I said, you are obedient. It suits you. Being mine suits you.” 

You turn your head to look back at him, rolling your eyes. He snickers and grips your hips, pulling your body against his, using you. A wet slapping sound fills the room, egging you on. 

You reach between your legs to stroke your clit, however; you find it’s easier to hold your hand steady and let Cal drag your body against it. Forcing you to grind against your own fingers. Your nipples rub against the smooth comforter, shooting sparks through your body. Each movement coiling pleasure in your abdomen, moans flowing easily from your lips. 

Cal grunts. “You’re…so…tight…” 

You feel him unloading inside of you; he fucks you through it, ensuring your pleasure is uninterrupted. The notion is so hot that you follow shortly after he is done. Clamping down hard around his overstimulated cock as you twitch in pleasure. 

“Fuck, Light, it’s a lot.” 

Cal’s pleas go ignored as you ride the high of your orgasm, fucking yourself on him through the aftershocks. Cal lets loose a stuttered collection of grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. 

You stop moving, panting as your left cheek rests against the bed. The need in your body is ready for another round, but you are physically exhausted, wondering how the two of you could keep going. 

Cal brushes some of the hair off your neck, helping cool your body. “Light, do you want to cum again?” 

You rise to your hands. “Yes, but I’m already tired.” 

You laugh, feeling surprised by the exhaustion. Normally, you could go much longer, especially with the added stimulant. 

Cal pulls his still hard length out of you, causing you to whine. 

“Pregnancy is known to do that.” 

You turn to face him, ignoring his words. “Please, I need you in me.” 

Cal smiles and kisses you once. “But you’re too tired to keep going.” 

You give him your best wide-eyed look. “Yes.” 

Cal thinks, looking over your body, making you shift. “I may have an idea. Stay here.” 

He climbs off the bed and walks out the door. You can’t help but look him over from behind. If the Force has a favorite, it’s Cal. Every inch of his body is muscular and perfect, making you want to never let him go. 

You could stay with him, you’re pregnant with his child after all, that’s reason enough to stay. You could be his little wife, allow him to fuck you every night, fill you with more of his babies. Perhaps bring him back to the Light side, start a life far from here. 

Cal interrupts your thoughts by returning to the bedroom, holding a funny-looking device that you recognize as a smaller holopad. He holds it up for you to see. “This used to be yours. You read some rather interesting books before the accident.” 

You give him a funny look, confused at what he intends to do with the device and your current situation. His erection pressing high against his lower stomach. Cal arranges the pillows and sits at the head of the bed, gesturing for you to sit on his lap. 

You move quickly to straddle him, sinking down, fulfilling both your needs with a whine. You rest your head against his shoulder and he absent-mindedly strokes your back. 

“I’ll keep you filled while I read your old books to you. If you find you need to ride me, please do so at any time.” 

You think the entire situation is odd but snuggle against his chest, breathing in his scent, agreeing to his terms without words. Cal reads aloud, the rumble of his voice pleasantly sounding each word. You aren’t listening at first, but as he continues, you realize this is no ordinary story. 

Cal is reading you pornography. 

You lean back to look at his face. “Um…Cal, what are you reading?” 

Cal snickers. “You tell me, this is what you were last reading before your accident.” 

Your eyes widen and you decide against pressing the issue, instead leaning against him, listening in fascination to the filthy words. Cal reads to you for hours, mostly you listen, but each time there is a burst of energy, you ride him. Your movements often distracting him until he puts the holopad down and helps you ride, hands gripping your hips. 

You chase orgasms whenever you can, Cal never pushes for more than what you can take. Part of you wonders how he might use your body if your pleasure didn’t come first as he promised. If he might have spent each minute fucking all thoughts from your brain. 

But you are happy to lie in his arms instead while he strokes your head and reads. Apart from the cock warming and the pornography Cal reads to you, it’s innocent enough to cuddle with him for hours. You could see yourself curled up beside him more often, enjoying his warmth and scent. 

“Cal?” 

Cal’s eyes stay focused on the words on the screen. “Yes, my love?” 

Your cheeks heat at his word choice, knowing he forgot the nature of your relationship. “We agreed we won’t speak about this ever again…” 

Cal looks at you with concern. “Yes.” 

You press your lips together. “Maybe we could act like it happened, but not jump back to sex. At least, not right away?” 

Cal drops the reader on the bed, both hands moving to cup your cheeks, pulling your face close. “I would do anything for you.” 

He presses a kiss to your mouth, you eagerly respond. Your arms wrap around his neck as he flips your bodies, pinning you to the bed. “We’ll start fresh tomorrow. Let me have you one last time.” 

You smile and nod, dragging him back down into another kiss. Cal maintains the kiss while moving his hips, slow and deliberate, ensuring your exhausted cunt enjoys every motion. The way he fucks you differs from the other times today. You assume the drugs must finally be wearing off, hoping that you might sleep in each other’s arms tonight. 

Cal sucks at your bottom lip as he moves, each thrust thoughtful. He kisses you, hands still holding your face as you both cum. Each kiss feels final, but you know it is only the beginning. Both exhausted, you finally feel satiated, and Cal’s erection softens. 

He fetches you one of his black shirts to wear for sleep, dressing himself in his usual lounge wear. He climbs back into bed and wraps his body around yours, his nose resting in the crook of your neck. As you fall asleep, you become unaware of the man left awake in the room. 

The Inquisitor who cries softly into your hair, knowing the best day of his life will soon be forgotten. Who untangles himself from your body once he is too tired to fight off sleep. Who sets up a makeshift bed on the floor beside you, falling into a fitful sleep, forgetting the gift you gave him. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Need to Rant with Others Who Have Read This Story?

Join My Discord It's free! Members get updates, sneak peaks, bonus content, events, and countdowns to new chapters. We'd love to have you, even if you just lurk!

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Love/Like/Hate What You Read?

Comment (please!) on AO3 or Blogger Anonymous/Comment/Message/Reblog on Tumblr Compliments feed me Constructive Criticism improves me

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

[imogenkol]

— ONE STEP FORWARD

pairing: Imogen Kol (oc) x Bix Caleen rating: Mature words: 1k warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughts summary: Imogen finds Bix in a moment of vulnerability

notes: this is old, but I’m still very fond of it and wanted to put it in it’s own post before it inevitably gets changed once the new season drops. It’s based off this grainy shot of the leaked s2 trailer

Imogen knocked on the door. “Bix?”

“It’s open,” a hoarse voice called from inside.

Imogen entered to see the apartment in disarray. Clothes were strewn about the floor as well as a few stray possessions and an empty bottle or two. Remnants of a lightly picked over meal remained on the counter of the small kitchen, now long cold. Perhaps it was a good sign that the mechanic had eaten something, however meager it may be. Though Imogen made a mental note to urge her to eat a little more. 

Bix lay sprawled out on her stomach in the messy bed, appearing about as put together as her living quarters. If Imogen hadn’t heard her voice just a moment before, she would have thought Bix wasn’t even conscious. As she drew nearer, she noticed a familiar blaster rested loosely in her mechanic’s grip. 

One step forward, two steps back. 

A lump formed in Imogen’s throat, but she swallowed hard and sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

The first sign of life from Bix was a weak shrug. “Somewhere in between wanting to blast some Imp’s head off and my own.”

That filled Imogen with a sickening, ice-cold dread. She carefully reached for the blaster. “You know that I would never allow you to do that.”

Their fingers brushed as Imogen took the weapon out of her hand. The touch roused a reaction and the mechanic’s gaze snapped up to meet the former Inquisitor’s. Imogen expected to see anything from pain to fear, but Bix’s eyes were simply hollow. She could not bear to witness it for more than a couple of seconds. 

“All of a sudden you’re so concerned with coveting life, huh?”

“I covet yours above all others, Bix,” Imogen replied.

A sigh expelled from her lungs and she dragged herself into a sitting position. “You don’t need to worry. I was just… too deep in my own head.” 

Imogen nodded, but fully recognized the danger of such a thing. “Have you gotten out of this room today?”

“No.”

“One prison is enough to endure. You should not make it two,” she said gently.

Bix ran a hand though her disheveled curls and released another impatient huff. “Everyone has been looking at me like I’m some broken thing. I mean, I am, but… seeing it all over their faces makes me feel like I’m still strapped to that chair, losing my mind.”

Imogen knew she must have inadvertently contributed to that. Guilt twisted her insides. Of all people, she should have known better. “My master used to look at me differently than anyone else. Not in a way I found to be encouraging. Though she never said it, I could see she spent most of her days anticipating the worst from me. It is taxing.”

“It is,” the mechanic agreed wearily. She shifted closer, looping an arm through Imogen’s and resting her head on her shoulder.

Despite the topic of conversation, Imogen felt a light flutter in her chest as the heat of the other woman’s body warmed her. This type of candid affection they had started to share more frequently brought a specific kind of intoxication. It felt just as thrilling as any intimate touch, and she hid a smile. Imogen could be content with her like this. Just like this. 

Imogen turned her attention to the blaster in her hands. “I had not realized you still had this. I thought it was lost.”  

Bix studied the blaster like it was the only object of importance to her. “I kept it from you.”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel less vulnerable. And because it’s yours.” 

Imogen recalled when Bix had taken it straight from her holster out of a strong will to escape the Empire with her life.

The lightsaber on Imogen’s belt was much the same. Cal felt nothing but disdain for her saber. He felt the darkness in the Kyber crystal, the way it had been corrupted years ago by her hatred, when Imogen’s hands were still freshly stained by cold-blooded betrayal. Corruption breeds corruption, so he claimed, but Imogen would not have survived this long without the weapon. It was the only thing she ever put her full trust in. 

Perhaps the blaster was not some dark force searching to prey on an addled mind, rather the only tangible reminder of Bix’s own survival.

After a long moment of deliberation, Imogen offered the blaster back to her. “Now it is yours.”

Bix leaned back enough to meet her gaze again. Relief washed over the bounty hunter at the small spark that reignited within her rich eyes. “You’re sure?”

“I trust that you will continue to protect yourself with it. As I will continue to protect you.”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Bix’s mouth, drawing Imogen’s gaze down for a split second. She suddenly became keenly aware of their lack of personal space. Bix took in her features as well before she accepted the blaster. “Thank you.”

“You will not be broken forever, Bix,” Imogen promised. 

The movements were subtle. Fingers tightened around her arm. Bix tilted her head towards hers ever so slightly. Imogen felt even the most acute form of contact. It pulled her in like a magnet, making each short breath stutter past her barely parted lips. 

“You can kiss me, you know,” Bix whispered. 

Imogen had never experienced a deeper temptation in all her life. It would be as easy as leaning in an inch or two. The last time her lips were graced by a kiss was on Ferrix before the uprising. That moment felt so far away and it made Imogen ache terribly for her. This pain reached past every defense to tear at what was left of her very soul. Somehow, that only made her crave the pain more.

But Imogen could not bring herself to give in. Not while Bix was like this.

Wordlessly, the bounty hunter tilted her chin up and gently pressed her lips to Bix’s temple. Imogen felt her beloved lean into the kiss as her tense muscles eased. She sensed it gifted them both a moment of peace, so she pulled away and rested her forehead where the ghost of her kiss remained, feeling no rush to part from her mechanic.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @socially-awkward-skeleton @neonshrike @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @florbelles @adelaidedrubman @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @buggknife @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @d-esmond @loriane-elmuerto @shellibisshe @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed @strangefable @statichvm @sevikagf @cptcassian @auricfog @confidentandgood @e-the-village-cryptid @raresvtm @minaharkers

[grievedeeply]

Can I request a Cal x reader, where they were both working for Saw but got split up during the job on Coruscant. So we know that in rogue one Saw was hanging out on Jedha, so what if reader is out in the descent hearing to Saw’s place but runs into Cal instead? Idk I just need some Cal in my life. Thank you so much 💜

i'm loving all of these cal requests!!! this is such a cute idea :") hope you enjoy!

gn!reader | tws: death, SPOILERS FOR THE BEGINNING OF JEDI SURVIVOR + JOIN MY NEW TAGLIST!!!

you're here, we're here — cal kestis

you wondered if working for saw gererra was the right thing to do. of course, he fought for something bigger than himself, but you knew of the consequences of this sort of thing. if you were to be captured by the empire, you'd be killed. they'd keep it quiet, but you knew your death would come swift if the imperials were to get their hands on you.

you were scared of death. wasn't everyone, to some extent? you wondered what the afterlife would hold for you. was there even an afterlife at all? the act of dying wasn't what scared you, not really. it was mostly leaving those you loved behind. gabs, the twins, bravo. you met them all through saw gererra, and that was your favorite part about working for him. the people. their kindness and generosity, their determination to make the galaxy a better place. not just for themselves but for everyone around them. it was good to see something other than hate and cruelty remained.

they were your family.

until they weren't.

the job on coruscant had gone horribly wrong, in the end. what was supposed to be a simple extraction of information turned into a firefight.. and before you knew it, more than half of your squad was gone. in the confusion, you'd gotten split up from cal, bode and bravo, and you could only assume they were all dead, too.

lately, saw had been hanging out on jedha. even before your mission, he had started setting up some operations there despite the ever growing imperial presence.

so.. you returned to jedha completely empty handed, and down an entire team. your family. gabs, the twins.. you watched them die, struck down like they were nothing. they had names, they had lives and friends and they were loved. but no one understood that. all the empire saw was insurgency. all that inquisitor saw was cal, the one who had gotten away from her all those years ago.

you remembered the look on saw's face once you stepped inside. his grin immediately dropped and without a moment's hesitation, he took you by your shoulders and pulled you into his arms. you couldn't cry, not anymore. the entire time you were maneuvering through the streets of coruscant your eyes were welling with tears. the tie fighters shot at you as you escaped the planet and went into the stars.. and by the time you were in hyperspace, your face was soaked in tears. you sobbed the entire time, all the way up until your arrival at jedha, days later. you couldn't risk leading the empire back to saw, so you took a few rotations on some backwater planet to collect your thoughts— but what was left to think about?

you thought of gabs. her smile, her strange sense of humor that somehow always made you laugh. the twins and their insatiable appetite.. and the warm hugs they provided you when you were feeling down. bravo, who gave the best advice out of anyone on the crew. bode, your sparring partner. cal.. your best friend.

cal.. he was smart. 'he could've gotten out,' you told yourself. if he was captured he could've escaped. he was talented, he was brave. he was kind.. so kind. you remembered his hands on your arms, running them up and down your skin as a way to calm you, to ground you into the moment. it was a routine before you went out together. he would smile that same, big dumb grin, and reassure you that everything would be okay.

but that wasn't the case. not this time.

cal was gone. his beautiful.. gentle smile was gone. you would never see him again. he was dead or captured and you were the only one that made it out. he deserved to see the galaxy at a better state. he deserved to live. he deserved to grow old. thoughts of him and the rest plagued your mind like a curse, and no matter how many times you tried to push them and what happened away, they would come crawling back.

your work on jedha was light. saw was giving you time to recover, letting you decide if you even wanted to go back into the field in the first place. not only had his operation suffered a major loss.. but so had you. you had to watch it happen. until you made your choice, he had you doing whatever you needed or wanted. you could choose to sit around if you needed to. he had plenty of people to cover for everything. he knew you needed your space, so.. sit around you did.

you'd take walks occasionally, go to nearby cliffsides and listen to the stormtroopers beneath you chatter about whatever was going on in their lives. the familiar hum of their electro riot batons went in and out of your mind. they spoke of promotions, of their coworkers and their bosses, their plans, how much they hated jedha and wished they were stationed somewhere else.. but as they talked.. you envied them.

they were blinded to the empire's cruelty and injustices, but you? you had lost to them. these people knew nothing about the kindness your friends, your family, had shown. they would get what was coming to them.. but for now, you took solace in their stupidity.

this was one of those trips. you stood from your spot on the cliff, brushing off your pants with your hands, watching as dust fell from them back onto the sandy rocks underneath you. the stormtroopers were so oblivious to their surroundings, it almost made you laugh. you turned your back to them, ready to begin up the path you had come down before.

the trek was a decently long one. it was enough time away from base to clear your head and let your thoughts sit for awhile, and that was okay with you. you let yourself mourn through this walk.. and that was okay.

you groaned as you pushed yourself up onto the ledge, making steady progress towards base. you wondered if there was an easier way to get back.. but this distance was something you enjoyed. the silence was nice. it was good to be on your own sometimes, even if plenty of people had offered to come with you, you always turned them down. you knew they were concerned, but you needed time to be by yourself.

you brought yourself to your feet after climbing up, kicking a few of the rocks underneath your feet over the edge of the cliff. you looked down at the ground below you, wondering how far the drop was. you were surprised you hadn't slipped off, yet. you chuckled to yourself at the thought. you knew that, if cal were by your side, he would save you with his force magic. no matter how much strain it might put on him.. he would do it. there was no doubt in your mind.

but cal wasn't around.

a chirp in the distance, coming from the direction you were heading. you furrowed your brow. this path was supposed to be clear. who would saw send out at this time anyways? the sun was setting in the distance, the hues of pink and orange blending into the desert out beneath the cliffs. had he planned some sort of covert operation—

you stopped in your tracks. a droid..

cal's droid.

you'd recognize those colors anywhere. he stared up at you for a few moments before rushing towards you, climbing up your legs to rest on your shoulders. bd-1's head rubbed against your cheek almost as though he were some sort of animal. you grinned, leaning towards him as your hands reached for him. you took him off of your shoulder, holding him in front of you.

you frowned. how had he gotten here? did cal make it out? that wasn't possible. you would've heard something from him by now, anything—

"buddy, wait up!" you heard a voice call from down the canyon, and you froze, eyes wide. cal's voice. were you hallucinating? was this a dream or a nightmare? were you dead? why would bd-1 be here if you were dead?

before you could think on it any further, cal slid around the corner and turned to face you. his expression immediately softened as soon as he laid his eyes on you, and bd-1 slowly slinked out of your hands and back onto the ground, ready to watch your reunion.

he let out a shaky breath, one that even he could barely hear. his head felt so loud. after you'd gotten separated from the rest, he thought you were dead. he normally tried to stay as positive as possible.. you were clever, intelligent and knew just how to survive.. but it was a feeling in his gut that he couldn't shake that you didn't make it out.

he blinked a few times before he took a few hesitant steps towards you. your eyes filled with tears as you stared at him. he was real, he was in front of you. he was alive. before you knew it, cal's arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest for a tight hug.

a soft sob escaped his lips, but he nuzzled his face into your neck, and all you could do was return the gesture. his crying pulled you back into reality. he was alive. he was okay.

it felt like an eternity, trapped in each others arms, soaking in the warmth that filled your chest as you reveled in his presence. you never wanted him to pull away, afraid that if he did he would disappear into the sunset behind him. but he pulled away, his hands resting on your shoulders as they always did.. and he stared deep into your eyes.

he pressed his forehead to yours, his fingers ran circles over your skin. what he always did to keep you calm.. and you couldn't help but cry. you let your eyes close, your hands reaching out for the fabric of his shirt. he was alive, and that was all you cared about. despite the insurmountable loss you'd faced that day, cal was alive and in front of you.

"i'm so happy to see you." you heard him say, and you nodded. his voice was coarse, rough against his throat. had he cried as much as you had? had he struggled with adapting to a life without you? without everyone? he'd mourned for you. you took his hands off of your shoulders, taking them in your own. this time, your thumbs ran over the back of his palms, caressing him as though he was about to break.

"cal.." you whispered out his name, your lips pressed into a thin line to prevent yourself from crying. his hands found your face, pulling you closer.

your heart ached in your chest, your breathing heavy. you let him touch you, both of you falling completely silent. finally, you opened your eyes, only to be met with his staring back at you.

he'd been looking at you all this time. desperation filled his vision, and his lips pressed to yours in a gentle, warm kiss. it didn't last for very long, and you resisted the urge to pull him back in as soon as his lips left yours. "i'm sorry," cal muttered, averting his gaze from you to look at the floor. "i don't know what came over me." he chuckled, breathless, feeling incredibly awkward as he sunk into himself. his cheeks were a bright red. he could feel the heat against his skin.

though, when he returned his eyes to you, you wore a smile. your face, still covered in tear stains, had a genuinely happy expression written on it for the first time in a long time.

you never thought you'd think of him in this way, but as you thought on it, you supposed you already had. you yearned for him in a way you did for no one else. you wanted him by your side. you swallowed, embarrassed.

"it's okay," you reassured him verbally before taking his hands in your own once more. they were rough, but surprisingly gentle. "i.. didn't exactly mind." you told him, glancing away from him as you spoke. it was strange to be this vulnerable, but you were glad it was with cal and no one else. he was so special.

he cared so much for people.. for you.

"really?" he asked without missing a beat, a youthfulness in his voice you had never heard before. you nodded, and he kissed your forehead, a sign of relief escaping his lips. he thought he had ruined everything between the two of you before even getting to talk to you.

"why.. why didn't you tell me?" you asked after a brief moments hesitation. of course, you were glad he was alive and in front of you, but you couldn't help but to ask. cal sighed, "i tried. comms were out. i tried to track you. i didn't find anything and i thought-" he paused, licking his lips. his throat suddenly felt dry. "i thought you were dead."

you couldn't even say anything, your mind focused only on the fact that he tried. he tried to reach out to you and that was all that mattered. you knew he would never leave you behind. "i had to.. find an old friend of mine. we had to fix up the ship." he swallowed, scratching at the back of his neck. "i'm sorry, i should've tried harder-"

"cal," you cut him off before he could say anything else, "all that matters now is that you're alive. you're here. we're here. you tried.. and that means more to me than you could ever know. believe me.. i tried to find you, too." you told him, eyes searching his face. "it's okay." you spoke up again, and his gaze finally met yours.

your breath hitched in your throat. he was beautiful. inside and out. he had a heart of pure gold. one that you hoped would never fade, that you knew would never fade.

bd-1 nudged at your foot before you could sink further into your daydream, and he climbed up onto his shoulders. you grinned at him, and then shifted your eyes to cal.

"come on," you murmured, taking his hand in yours. "i want to show you something."

the place you had mourned for him. yes.. but now, it was the place with a view you would share.

tags: @starwalkerwriting

[your-nanas-house]

Hey, I loved your Cal story with the male reader and was hoping for an Idea of Grand Inquisitor Cal and Vaders Apprentice Female reader smut

Hi! Thank you so so so much and sorry for making you wait so long. Also May the 4 be with you, dear. ❤️ I really appreciate a Cal Kestis request, I should start to write more stories with him.

On the dark side

◇ Pairing: Grand Inquisitor!Cal Kestis X Darth Vader's apprentice fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, dark, Siths, confusion, angst, use of the force.

◇ Summary: in the request

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

Y/n should never have been there, according to what Darth Vader told her and imposed on her in order to improve and become a perfect Sith she would have to give up on some things which was definitely difficult, especially when it involved the attraction she felt toward an inquisitor she had met more than once while standing at her "master's" side. The same man who now laid beneath her with his back arched, his pale, freckled skin flushed from the heat caused by the two bodies, so close together and the activity they were engaged in. 

His mouth was open, his lips swollen and red from the kisses exchanged previously, Cal Kestis, the inquisitor in question, also felt a knot in his throat, in addition to the pleasure he felt, caused by the force used by Y/n who was slowly increasing it reaching that way the right pressure so as not to choke him to death as she continued to bounce at a fast pace on his length particularly appreciating, although she would never had admit it out loud, the inquisitor's large and strong hands which were firmly gripping her bare hips. 

They both hoped within themselves that they would leave a mark on her skin, as soon as he moved his hands from there, so as to leave a memory of that crazy night.

They reached the third round when a powerful and unexpected force moved Y/n from on top of Cal, immobilizing her on the mattress thus giving time for the inquisitor to move on top of her, spread again her bare legs covered with bites and hickeys to be able to reach better and faster the part of her that was waiting for more and more care.

Y/n's body relaxed and tensed soon afterward, still allowing Cal to take care of her and his own needs while relieving himself of the stress that Darth Vader caused and that the general work of an inquisitor put on his shoulders.

The feelings felt by the two Sith, despite being blurred, were blurred and pushed aside because of the power of the pleasure they were causing each other, but they were both confused, not sure if they were doing it to let go of their stress, their hatred, or simply because they both needed physical contact, something to make them feel like they were safe, and sex was the closest thing they could find in that dark place, full of evil and lust for power mixed with sadism.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher

[wayfaringjedi]

Decided to post Dark Comforts here, after all, because there's really no reason why I shouldn't! I mean, other than the fact that it's Explicit, so, you know... 18+ and all that.

It's a story about an Inquisitor Cal and a TIE pilot with a secret... she's a survivor, just like him.

Ao3 Clickything

It's currently 8,888 words long, and written un-beta'd over the course of, uh... a week, maybe? So it's in its purest form, let's say. Chapter count has been increased from 4 to 5, but I may add more. I've got an idea of where I want this to go. It's also the first ever story I've written in second person POV, which is an exercise I'm finding very interesting. It allows me to really focus on the second-by-second dripfeed of information in a way that my typical third-person past tense style doesn't quite allow for. I've tried to make the reader character interesting whilst still not describing her physically, other than, you know... she's female, and she's hot, I guess?

I've taken sort of a sadboi route with Inquisitor Cal, as I personally interpret him as being so horrifically vicious because his deeply good, kind base nature isn't that far below the surface. To be an Inquisitor warped by pain he's got to constantly war with himself, and if so inclined to a person, can find it dangerously easy to get in touch with his better self. The way he operates is by denying his empathy, not by not having it -- but there are pieces of who he is that no matter what, he can never truly suppress... and that may be the foothold he needs.

Happy belated Cal-entine's Day, all! ♡