#Jedi Fallen Order Fanfic

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Fan Prize Story #3: Finding the Way Back Chapter I

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Chapter Summary

Cal doesn't return from a mission forcing you to venture out into the Kashyyyk jungle to rescue him and face your greatest fears. Rating: 18+ Words: 1.2K

This story was made for @angeldarkness95 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

The heat of the explosion forces sweat to bead along your forehead, dampening your neat hair. It was closer than you would have liked, but your reddened skin remains unburned. You smile at the flames engulfing the wretched Imperial base; it was an eyesore anyway. 

Something tugs at your mind, reminding you that this mission was a dual effort, bringing your attention to Cal. “That’s odd…” 

Fear consumes you, urging you to rush to aid Cal, but you push away the lies. You cannot believe such trivial feelings, only facts are reliable. Cal completed his portion of the mission, since the base blew up so spectacularly. He is on his way back to the ship, just like you. 

You shake your head and begin the journey back towards the Mantis. Cal must return from the opposite end of the base, where he completed his portion of the mission. Despite the tugging in your head, you keep your thoughts on getting back to the ship. Cal will meet you there. 

You speak aloud to your worry, hoping to rest the fear. “It’s probably nothing.” 

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It takes over half an hour to get back, even keeping your pace at a light jog. As you enter the loading door, Greez and Cere look up from their seats at the table. 

You flash them a victory smile and glance around your current housing, grateful to be away from the wildlife. “Mission complete! Did Cal beat me back?”

Cere raises her dark eyebrows. “Cal has not returned yet.” 

You shrug and sit on the bench seating in the middle of the craft, enjoying the downtime while Cal makes his way back. You suspect Cal’s return will take twice as long as yours, assuming he doesn’t get distracted. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. BD probably ran off to scan something.” 

Cere joins you and sits at the opposite end. “I hope you’re right. He’s not late…yet.” 

You chuckle. “You know how Cal is, always getting distracted by something.” 

You pass the downtime with your feet resting on the center table, enjoying peace after exerting yourself all afternoon. Blowing up an Imperial base is easy enough, like taking clams from a Gungan. The bucketheads stand out against the greenery of the forest, making them easy to target. 

The difficulty was the dangerous fauna, which blends into the landscape, hiding from view, using the element of surprise as its chief advantage. You shudder at the thought of the multi legged creatures; the recent memory making your skin crawl. 

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You lower your feet, boots sounding on the grated floor as it becomes clear Cal is actually late. Cere makes multiple efforts to reach him on the comms, but radio static is the only response. You take up leaning against the loading door frame, surveying the edge of the forest for Cal’s unlikely return. 

Guilt creeps in, pondering if the tug in your mind had been a warning of Cal’s inevitable absence. You reject the notion, reminding yourself that you cannot trust in the Force anymore. It has failed you in your time of need, and you won’t be so foolish twice. Minutes drag by and you find it difficult to relax, despite your statuesque frame in the doorway. 

Cere joins you, worry etched on her forehead. “We still can’t reach Cal on the comms. Kashyyyk does an excellent job blocking our signals.” 

Greez’s voice rings out from the kitchen. “Kid, did you see anything out there?” 

You answer Greez too loud, nearing overly defensive. “No! I mean, Cal definitely completed his part of the mission, or the explosion wouldn’t have been so spectacular.” 

He raises two palms in a mock shrug. “How ‘bout the Force? You can feel each other through it, right?” 

Your face heats at the thought of feeling Cal under any circumstances, causing you to stutter your attempted response. 

Cere interrupts. “That’s not exactly how it works, Greez.” 

“Well, what do I know? I’m just the guy who takes care of all you Jedi. You could at least fill me in on how it works.” 

Cere joins Greez in the kitchen, attempting to explain the Force. You’d find comfort in their banter if icy dread wasn’t washing over you. Absent minded, you pull your favorite stylus out of your pocket and spin it to soothe the discomfort of worry. 

You wonder if you were wrong to ignore the tug, if you’re too late now. Eyes closing and breathing slowly through your nose, you push aside the endless array of outcomes. Your mind, a creature of habit, attempts to slip into meditation, but you don’t allow it. Only focusing on your breathing and keeping one foot in the present. 

You stare at the tree line, willing Cal’s appearance to put an end to the internal suffering in your mind. He doesn’t, and each second wears on you. 

What if he’s horribly injured, or worse, dead? Regret seeps in, knowing that you didn’t tell him the truth about your feelings. How he takes your breath away when he stands too close, or how your heart flutters when he cracks a joke in his low and husky voice. 

Finally, you succumb to the panic, moving into the ship to retrieve a supply bag, tossing your favored item into its depths. Cere and Greez perk up, watching you with interest. 

You spare them a glance as you move methodically to ensure the bag is well stocked. “I’m going to go look for him. He’s been gone too long.” 

Cere nods. “Stay safe out there. The Kashyyyk forest is dangerous. Keep your eyes up.” 

You press your lips together. “I’ve got this. I’ll bring back Cal in one piece.” 

She gives you a tight-lipped smile, standing to bid you goodbye. “May the Force be with you.” 

You don’t acknowledge the language and exit the ship. 

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As you enter the web of trees, your ears attune to the roar of life around you: chirping, screeches, and rustling from above. The noise puts you on high alert, each hair on your body standing on end. The heightened state forces you into paranoia; keeping a hand on your lightsaber and jumping at shadows, fearing the worst. Though it is not the perils of the jungle that terrify you, but the man awaiting your rescue. 

You had a lover, a normal life, years after the purge. He had meant everything to you, but it’s clear you did not hold equal value in his heart. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins at the memory and the dangerous terrain. You focus hard to calm your breathing, but the longer you go without meditation, the more difficult controlling your body and mind has become. 

You speak aloud in a low tone, trying to soothe yourself as one might soothe a child. “It’s not a big deal. Cal’s fine. Nothing happened to him.” 

Your mind takes the words and runs in a different direction, making you aware of the possibility that Cal is, in fact, luring you deep into the woods to betray you. If one man could betray your love and trust, why wouldn’t another? Perhaps it’s your fate to be cast aside for a richer opportunity, to feel the flame of love and burn in its heat. 

Your feelings for Cal are likely blinding you to his true nature. His good looks are a distraction; his muscular form, his flaming hair, his kind eyes. 

“No! Cal wouldn’t do that…I hope…” 

The image of his eyes crinkled as he laughs at your joke, flashes before your eyes. He wouldn’t, would he? You want to believe the best in him, but you grip your lightsaber hilt tight as you move through the jungle. 

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Next Chapter

[sincerelylea]

posted this at work, enjoy. first peek into writing for cal.

11:28 pm. cal kestis. perseverance.

his breath was gratuitous. maybe in this moment more, because it usually was held deep in the muscle of his abdomen. hidden behind a ribcage - controlled with meditative practice, only exhaled through a steady release and flow. like this it wefted across the folds and fissures of the fitted sheet, only the light from stars could illuminate his freckled skin now, and like this you’d thank maker for giving you a gift as kind as this. 

a lowly window sits behind cal, that was the wall the bed was created on. on the ship when greez couldn’t make the jump into hyperspace it always offered you more time like this. time to count the freckles on his cheeks and shoulders, wander your eyes over the scars on his abdomen that dare peek under his sleep shirt. see him illuminated by a sight of an endless sea of never ending stars. 

“space,” you whispered to him as he slept, arm firmly tucked under your head with the other resting between your bodies. “it’s all here.” your touch lightens, you dance a ghost of a thumb over his cheeks. “you are the same, cal kestis.” you’ve been quiet enough and gentle enough to not wake him now. you press your lips to the center of his forehead between his brows and his face almost alters for a second as he barely graces into consciousness . 

he hums a short, mm almost like a question as to why you’d kissed him seemingly out of the blue. you bite your lips in a smile and smooth his brow, he returns his arm to be heavy weight across your waist, effectively bringing you closer to his body heat. “sleep, star boy.” you remind him to which he drifts off without further question. 

the jedi was running on fumes, if even that. the morale of rekindling his jedi flame was energy enough for him, yet rest was typically neglected and left him crashed in your hold for some hours on the mantis while he re-cooped. sometime soon greez would be able to make the jump into hyperspace and the countdown would begin of minutes left with him in your arms. but for now you’d count the breath, live and exist, if only to be shared with him.

[cameron-s-gaskins]

Started making a Jedi: Survivor fan comic. I’m making it either way, just for myself, but I’d love to know if there’s actually anyone else who’d want to read something like this? It’s like a canon divergence, Cere lives, Bode redemption, kind of thing. Cheers.

[ford-ye-fiji]

currently imagining tiny little thirteen year old Cal Kestis becoming a scrapper on Bracca and immediately being adopted by Prauf and co. That’s their son now. The crew? Section? Squad? Of scrappers now like. This is our little boy now and anyone who has a problem with it can fight me. Like… did anyone know? Did anyone realize or figure it out, suspect that something was up? The end of an entire republic, the destruction of a mystical knighthood, and now a little boy with terror written on his face and the uncanny ability to avoid danger in a highly dangerous job shows up out of nowhere with no way home? Did they quietly decide not to pursue it, to cover for him when he needed it, and to not say a word when questioned?

[kindasleepywriter]

The way to a droid's heart (Cal Kestis x BountyHunter!Reader)

Based on this wonderful request. Always open to hearing more ideas!

Summary: Cal demonstrates what happens to those who mess with you. Warnings: Implied and explicit threats, that's about it Word count: 2.9k

In all the years you’d known him, you’d never understood how Cal Kestis was still alive. When you had met him 6 years ago, you’d been just as idealistic and adventure-seeking as he was. The years that followed, however, had changed you and shaped you for survival. Dreams didn’t get you very far, not in the galaxy like this one.

You’d quickly lost hope of ever becoming a fighter pilot when you’d realized the few rebel cells were dropping like flies, all at the Empire’s hand. One lone pilot wouldn’t make a difference out there, you’d concluded, and from that moment you’d just tried not to end up as space rubble like your parents. You’d ended up as a bounty hunter instead, a damned-good one, and you took what joy you could while chasing bounties all over space.

Cal, on the other hand, never seemed to lose his ambition of defeating the Empire. Not that he’d ever told you that’s what he was doing, of course, but only a space slug could’ve been so blind as to not see it. He wasn’t exactly being subtle, making no effort to conceal the weapon at his side and giving his real name to anyone who might have asked. His ever-growing collection of scars didn’t portray him as a man who sat around waiting for change, either.

Perhaps you’d ask about them, one day.

--

You watched from the far end of a bar you’d never tried learning the name of, as a stoned-faced Pantoran you didn’t recognize spoke with Cal. You couldn’t quite hear their conversation but, with the way BD-1 had whizzed in boredom for a good 10 minutes before scurrying off to scan whatever he could find, you could deduce they weren’t exactly talking about their latest game of holo-chess.

You turned back to your drink, flipping up your hood and shaking your head softly at the man’s persistence. On the move, as always.

You were starting to come to terms with the fact that your contact wouldn’t be showing up. You’d already sighed watching your watch more times than you could count, annoyed at the inconvenience of flying so far into the outer rim for nothing. It had been a pain negotiating your meeting too, the contact insisting on you being alone with no weapons. You’d eventually faked giving in, choosing to keep your rifle and pistol on board your currently broken down S40K and instead hiding vibro-blades inside your boots.

The ship was already on its last legs when you got it, the only reason why you’d been able to pay, but the years had caught up with it in the last two months. You spent almost all of your money on maintaining it in the air, and you were running out of funds fast.  The anticipated need to buy another cheap but more reliable hunk of metal was what had caused you to pick up another bounty only a few days after your last.

Normally, you liked to spread out jobs over a few weeks to enjoy the credits you made, but the sputtering of your engines when you’d crash landed into this city’s landing dock had made clear you couldn’t afford the luxury this time.

You were nearing the bottom of your drink, trying to plan a way off this planet without mounting any more personal debts to anyone, when you felt a small nudge at your right foot. You looked down, expecting to see some rodent or pest trying to eat through your sole, but were instead met with a little red and white hyperactive droid.

You scanned the room quickly to make sure no one was looking, and stretched a hand in his direction so he could haul himself up onto the cushioned booth. He didn’t hesitate to scramble up your arm, emitting a few whizzes and beeps of thanks on the way.

“Hey, beedee,” you greeted him flatly. “Thought I finally managed to evade your scans this time; guess I was wrong.”

A low whistle and a trill.

“I know, I know, you see everything. It’s hard to forget when you always choose to remind me at least twenty times every time you find me.”

He emitted a series of approving noises, and you rolled your eyes at his cockiness. Where he’d gotten that attitude wasn’t a great mystery. He jumped on one foot, nudging at your coat’s pockets with the other, his eyes going in and out of focus audibly as he searched for god-knows-what.

You tsked. “Will you stop that!” you chided and swatted him away like you would a cat. “Yes, I brought you something from my last job, stop assaulting me for a minute and let me find the damn thing. And you better not tell your dad, I’m not letting him think I’m a softie just because I keep entertaining your crow tendencies.”

Suddenly the picture of good manners, the droid sat and wiggled his legs as he sent you a sweet melody. Manipulative little shit, you thought affectionately. He was annoying as could be, but the little guy was cute.

You fished out a shiny piece of silver metal from your breast pocket. You had made sure not to lose the small leaf-shaped brooch, the perfect gift for BD-1. Your last bounty had necessitated infiltrating an Imperial event, and you’d found the piece while snooping through an officer’s desk. You’d never been so happy to have preemptively messed with the camera feeds.

The droid whistled in excitement and bathed your hand in a green light. You tried and failed to fight the smile that braced your lips as you watched him dance around your palm. He scanned the object from every angle he could find.

Too focused on his reaction, you failed to notice the individual looking over your shoulder until his shadow dimmed the wall you were facing. Too late to react properly, you shut your hand as quick as you could and turned to look at the man. Kin Fobam. Another bounty hunter, a Pau’an, one that always found a new way to piss you off. Today would apparently be no exception. BD beeped in annoyance at your movement before noticing you had company.

“Well, well. It would seem our little bounty hunter has a penchant for jewels after all.” the man sneered at you.

You rolled your eyes and did your best not to flinch at the lack of personal space, his two-meter height trapping you without much breathing room. You could smell the alcohol he had consumed, but you didn’t need it to know he was intoxicated. At this time of night, he always was. You were already almost pressed to the wall of your booth with only enough space to keep BD behind you, so you stood your ground and straightened up as best you could. You kept the droid in place as he spat angry threats at Kin, unwilling to let him make the situation worse.

“Kin, don’t you know women love shiny things?” you mocked with an arched brow, “Maybe if you’d known that earlier, that lovely Iridonian wouldn’t have spat at you again for your advances last week. How’s your attempt at courting her going, by the way?”

You subtly held the metal pin in pinched fingers behind your back as his white face somehow turned even paler in anger, desperately hoping BD-1 would understand what you were trying to tell him. You almost sighed in relief when you felt him swiftly slide it out of your hands into his stim container.

Kin moved even closer to you, forcing you to lean over BD in a desperate attempt to gain some personal space. Your free hand instinctively reached for your hip but only found the weathered leather of your empty holster. Shit, you’d left your guns on the ship! You didn’t have the space to reach for your blades either, so you had no choice but to do it the old way.

You tensed, ready to headbutt the towering Pau’an out of your space, but you stilled when you felt cold metal brush against your skin in the small gap where your shirt and pants met. A blaster. Fuck. This is why you never left without a firearm.

“I wonder, if that piece of metal is worth so much to someone like you,” he growled, “then maybe you’d accept payment in other forms… as thanks for sparing your life today, hm?”

You cringed at the implication of his words but took a steadying breath. You’d insulted this guy in more ways than you could count over the years and you knew he could pull that trigger without a second thought, but you’d fought bounties that were bigger, angrier, and certainly more skilled. He wasn’t the first to try and extort sexual favors from you, nor would he be the last.

Your brain spun in circles, trying to come up with a plan that didn’t involve blaster fire passing through your right kidney and BD-1 in one fell swoop. You didn’t have to think for long, though.

Before you could make a move, a blinding orange light flashed between you and Kin, floating just underneath his chin. You could feel the heat from where you were, could imagine the pain its power wielded. The way the man’s white flesh turned pink at its proximity didn’t go unnoticed.

“How about I gift her with the loss of your life as an apology for letting her endure your dirty ass, Kin?” a smooth voice drawled, the speaker invisible to you with your still-focusing eyes, but you didn’t need to see him to know who it was. As if the lightsaber wasn’t already enough to identify him, but you’d know that voice anywhere too. You weren’t the only one, if the cheering beeps you heard behind you were any indications.

A smirk braced your features as the Pau’an gritted his sharp teeth, hesitating a second before raising his hands in a defeated manner. He demonstratively holstered his pistol to make sure his head wasn’t cut off at the movement and he slowly stepped back a few feet away. The lightsaber didn’t stray a single millimeter from him. His brows pinched in anger, and he looked expectantly towards you. “It was just a little bit of fun, right?” he said as he hissed in pain. “Nothing to get upset about.”

You chuckled at the attempt. “I don’t know, I’m thinking your head on a platter sounds pretty great right about now. Maybe I can find someone out here who’d enjoy some barbecued Pau’an. What do you think, Cal?”

Your heart skipped a beat when your gaze met amused grey eyes over Kin’s hunched shoulders. He winked at you, and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip.

“I’m pretty sure that violates too many health codes,” he said, “you know, quality standards and such.”

BD whistled in agreement, scampering up onto your back and nudging the side of your head when you got up to lean against the side of your table.

“Too bad,” you sighed, crossing your arms, “maybe it could’ve bought me some new earrings.”

Cal laughed loudly, warmth spreading through your chest at the lovely sound before he closed a hand on the sweaty neck before him and brought his blade even closer to his chin. “The next time you even come within 20 feet of her,” he stated casually, loudly enough for the entire bar to hear and turn the heads of the few who weren’t already watching, “you won’t live long enough to say ‘womp rat’. Are we clear?”

Well, if your heart hadn’t been beating fast before, it sure was now. Never had a threat sounded so attractive before. You diverted your gaze. Get a grip, you reprimanded yourself.

BD-1 only encouraged him, a crackling sound buzzing entirely too close to your ear for your liking. When did he get a taser? You didn’t even want to know what he used it for, finding trouble with his new gadgets was a special talent of his.

Kin, now wide eyed, muttered an affirmative and a long line of fearful apologies, eager to escape the Jedi. Cal flicked off his saber and forcefully shoved him away. The Pau’an bolted out the door of the bar, running for his life, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his fear. BD reprimanded Cal for acting so late, beeps and squeals echoing through the room after the patrons returned to their usual business, but the red-haired man was only focused on you. Your skin heated at the attention.

“I could’ve dealt with him myself.”

He gave you a wide smile and stepped closer, no Pau’an separating you anymore. “Oh, I know. Wasn’t this much more fun though?”

The corner of your lips twitched, and you shrugged, softly shaking your head at his ever-lasting upbeat attitude. You uncrossed your arms, placing them behind you on the rusty table to comfortably lean back. “Still could’ve knocked him out faster without alerting every possible person of a Jedi’s presence here.”

“Give me a break,” he said almost sheepishly, reaching up a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “is a guy not allowed to show off to a pretty girl every once in a while?”

Your breath hitched on a single breath, caught off-guard. Sure, the two of you joked around all the time, but he’d never gone so far as to straight up flirt with you. You tried not to react, probably failing miserably at doing so.

“Smooth.”

He threw his head back in laughter, his reddened freckled cheeks showing more embarrassment that he let on. “I try.”

“Next time,” you said, striding past him, “if you really want to show off, perhaps you shouldn’t wait until there’s a blaster pointed at me before making your move.”  You had no idea how you kept your voice steady, and you couldn’t help but hear the rare softness of it. You were thankful that he couldn’t see how wide of a smile you currently wore.

He jogged to catch up, keeping pace with you as you headed for the docking bay. “I’ll keep that in mind” he chuckled.

You glanced back at the bar over your shoulder, and BD started emitting alarm noises from your other side, indignant at still being ignored. You patted his head, quieting him for a moment. “Where did your informant go?” you asked Cal. “Wouldn’t want to hinder your next side quest.”

“That was anything but a quest,” he said, “Just a boring old trade. Wouldn’t be so boring if you were there, though.”

A loud whistle of approval sounded above your shoulder.

“Hey, calm it, up there!” you exclaimed, using another opportunity to escape from answering. “I’ve only got two eardrums, let’s not break one of them.”

BD whistled again at a lower volume, followed by a barely audible series of sounds.

“Yeah, weak organics my ass,” you muttered. “We’ll talk about how great being a droid is the next time you bend your antennas and come running to me.”

Cal’s soft laugh caught your attention once more. He was watching you both with such a fond smile... Your heart squeezed at how soft he looked, for once not rushing towards something and instead enjoying the moment.

As you neared your ship, small tendrils of smoke still escaping the upper vents, he looked at his watch when it suddenly started beeping, and he made a face. “I’d love to hear the rest of your arguing, but we have to go. A revolution doesn’t fund itself.” he said. He looked up at the droid sitting on your shoulders. “Yes, beedee, that means you. Hop on.”

Cal held out an arm, BD begrudgingly taking his usual spot on his shoulders, spitting menacing sparks at the jedi along the way. The latter looked towards you with a flicker of hope as he stepped backwards towards the back of the hangar where the Mantis stood. “Can I convince you to join me this time? Still got an extra bunk if you want.”

“I don’t think you want me and beedee on the same ship 24/7, Cal. Anyways, I’ve told you before, I can’t just discard my old one.”

He stared at your smoking Hawk-Class before he turned to you unimpressed. “That thing can’t even fly.”

“It can! I just need to fix the cooling mechanism and-”

“And the hull, the reactors, the hyperdrive, the-” he continued, amused at your stubbornness.

“Okay, okay,” you scoffed, “you’ve made your point. Might as well drop it here, I guess. I could hitch a ride, if you’re heading towards the inner rim, but I’ve got approximately nothing to give in payment for the fuel.”

BD startled you with a burst of binary, so fast you couldn’t hear him. Cal looked at you sharply.

“You’ve been giftinghim things?” he exclaimed.

“You utter snitch, beedee!”

The droid whistled at you disapprovingly and loudly shot the brooch from his stim compartment right into Cal’s hands.

“I can’t believe you,” you continued, “the one thing I told you-”

You fell right back into your argument with the droid.

Cal tilted his head back in loud laughter and threw an arm around your shoulders as you whisper-yelled at BD-1, leading you towards the Mantis. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

Getting side-tracked by BD1? In my supposedly Cal-centered fic? It's more likely than you think.

This was pre-realtionship like my last Cal fic because tbh i have trouble setting up the change from friends to lovers without writing a whole novel, but I have some ideas roaming around my head I'd like to write. We'll see how that turns out!

Tell me what you think, and check out my masterlist!

[experiment-000]

Cal and Merrin name their firstborn daughter Cere.

After that, when Merrin is pregnant again, this time with a boy, Greez can't help but joke about the baby being named after him.

They all know the real reason why the baby won't be named Greez. But Greez doesn't know that Cal and Merrin actually discussed it. Didn't want to replace him with a baby by the same name. Didn't want to tempt fate to kill him. They would name a child after Greez in a heartbeat. But you name babies after dead people.

None of this is said out loud. Instead they joke:

"Nah this one's gonna be called Beedee," Cal quips whilst rubbing the droid's head.

"I've always liked the name Turgle," replies Merrin, completely straight faced.

"Monk has done a lot for us, and the jedi were known as monks so it would be fitting," muses Cal.

"Poncho." is Merrin's deadpan response when the question is asked yet again.

They call the boy Jaro.

[starwarsalltypesoflove]

SW - ALL TYPES OF LOVE WEEK

INFO

Star Wars: All Types of Love week is a fandom event of fancreations, lasting a week, that celebrates love in its many forms! Since we celebrate romantic love and familial love often, we thought it might be time to give an opportunity for other kinds of love to shine!

Inspired by the Ancient Greek Philosophers and their seven kinds of love, we aim to showcase those different, less celebrated loves. Rooting for the little guys!

HOW TO PARTICIPATE

No sign-up, nothing. Just create!!!

Post during the appropriate week and you’re good!

We welcome any kind of creation, as long as it is truly yours. Even old posts being reblogged is fine! Old creations deserve as much love as new ones.

Fanfics, fanarts, moodboards, fanvids, fancomics, banners, playlists… An epic fic or a 100 word drabble, an amazing painting or a stick figures funny scene- we love it all!!

WHEN TO POST

Wednesday 7th of February, 00h00 PST, to Wednesday 14th of February, 23h59 PST.

HOW TO POST

Post under the tag SWATOLW during the week the event is running. Add the tag of the type of love you are representing. 

Be sure to @ us so we can appreciate what you’ve made and put it in the round-up!

WHAT TO POST

Star Wars characters, places, animals, games… Be it from the movies, the novels, the comics, the shows like The Clone Wars, The Mandalorian, Andor or even your own OC, the important parts are:

It must be from the Star Wars fandom

It must be about Love and that love must be not romantic or familial

To get a better idea of what we mean by that, you can read more about the seven types of love here. In short, we want to give a chance to shine to:

Love of Friends #philia

Love of Strangers #agape

Love of Partners #pragma

Love of Players #ludus

Love of Self #philautia

You can post about any of these, at any time of the week. There isn’t a day assigned to each type. The point is to create without pressure and celebrate all the types of love we don’t often focus on! The more of these you depict, the more we will love you for it!

QUESTIONS

“I love my two clones who are bffs, but they are clones. Does their love count as familial?”

Well, the truth rather depends on your point of view how you present it.

Pairs like Fives and Echo, and Rex and Cody, are usually understood in canon and fandom to be family. They can be friends too, but we’d prefer to focus on other pairs for this event. Post another time. We’re sure people will love it.

Alpha-17 and Cody have a cross-generational friendship? As long as the way their relationship is described/shown isn’t the dynamic of big brother & younger brother, or father figure & son figure, it’s good!

Want to show off Waxer & Boil being two peas in a pod? We would love that! As long as it isn’t a ship or they, the characters, don’t feel like the other is kin in the way we understand it.

“I want to show my two Mandalorians who are Partners In Bounty Hunting, but they are from the same clan. Does this work?”

No. I’m sorry, but it does not. We consider clan to be the SW equivalent of immediate family, a close circle, so it’s not the right event for this. But it does work if they are just from the same house or faction!

“Can I do two Jedi who are teammates and lovers?”

You can show any characters (two, three, four…) having a relationship that is sexual and based on love. As long as that love is not romantic.

If what moves your Jedi is the sense of purpose found in duty, the common love for the Light and the wider galaxy, the playfulness and affection shared between bed partners, these feelings can be as big as the moon, and it is still fine!

That is the whole point!

Feelings can be enormous and serious and important and still not be romantic or familial.

But if it’s shown or implied that the relationship is romantic/familial or turning so at some point, that is not what our event is focused on.

We know people are a bit tired from the holidays and that Valentine’s Day is a period often rich with events, which is why we put these conditions so it can be as low-pressure as possible. The point is to rejoice in all the breadth and the richness of the human sentient experience of love. In the love of Star Wars. And in the love of this community.

Be civil and show goodwill to participants and spectators. Be kind. YKINMKATO. Go crazy! Be creative! Have fun!

Love!

@swfandomevents

[animatedjen]

shoutout to this funky lighting on Dathomir that absolutely makes Cal look blind

[stardustandash]

Hiiiii! How about 'Grab the little one's for JFO for the requests? Thanks!

This one went through so many different versions in my brain and on paper omg. Excellent prompt picking, definitely gave me much to think about and many ideas!!

Waiting for a Light in the Dark

Febuwhump Day 22: "Grab the Little One" Words: 1718

Cal’s hand is sweaty where it wraps around the hilt of his lightsaber. He knows that it will make it harder to hold if he needs to use it, but he can’t let it go. There’s been nothing bad or out of the ordinary so far, not even a little fight, but there’s something off about this place. A mission to collect Separatist information goes awry. Luckily Cal still has Master Tapal to save the day.

AO3 Link

Cal’s hand is sweaty where it wraps around the hilt of his lightsaber. He knows that it will make it harder to hold if he needs to use it, but he can’t let it go. There’s been nothing bad or out of the ordinary so far, not even a little fight, but there’s something off about this place. It makes him uneasy, like he’s being watched, but a careful eye scanning the walls picks out no cameras, just a few small vent covers.

Around him the clones are either picking up on his nervousness or nervous themselves. Master Tapal told him that the clones could also be attuned to the Force like any other living thing, and that their gut feelings could be trusted. Even Sunny is tense enough that he’s either worried or has a stomach ache. The Force tells him which it is. All of the men are buzzing through the Force with their quiet anxiety. Contrary to that Master Tapal, wherever he is in the facility, is calm and steadfast as river stones through their connection. Cal wraps himself in the feeling of it, hoping that it’ll help him be braver.

“Thought there were supposed to be clankers here,” grumbles Gamut as they turn yet another corner into an empty hallway.

“It’s listed as a programming facility for Separatist droids, that doesn’t mean that there will be droids here,” replies Twitch.

“It kinda does,” says Sunny. “It is droid stuff.”

“Actually, they only manufacture the droid’s data chips here. They program them and then mass manufacture them. And since we’re updating tactics all the time, they keep updating the droids. Even the tactical ones,” says Cal.

Five painted helmets turn to him. It’s easy to hear the smile in Twitch’s voice when he says: “Well look who read the mission briefing.”

Cal blushes and rubs at the back of his head with the hand not wrapped around his lightsaber. “Of course, we need to read the briefings to prepare for the mission.”

“See,” Twitch slaps Sunny on the shoulder. “Even the little Commander knows to read the briefings.”

“You just sum it up for me anyways, why should I waste time reading when I could be getting extra sleep instead. A well-rested soldier lives longer.”

On Sunny’s other side Mulch giggles quietly, his shoulders shaking as he contains his laughter. Cal almost giggles as well but that nagging feeling of something being wrong stays too close like it’s stuck in his throat and won’t let the sound escape. So he just smiles at his men and leads on.

It’s not long before they come to the door they’ve been looking for. There are two central computing hubs in the facility, and Master Tapal is heading to one while Cal goes to the other. Together they would download any data they could find on Separatist intelligence before destroying everything.  Simple enough, especially since it seems like the facility is briefly vacant for upgrades. A quiet mission for a young Padawan only a few months out of the temple.

Cal stands to the side and fidgets with his lightsaber as Tuner fiddles with the door locks. The others unholster their blasters and hold them at the ready. The facility is supposed to be empty but if anyone is there, they would be in the control hub. Other than Tuner’s armoured fingers typing away at his datapad while he hacks the door the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It does nothing to ease Cal’s nerves. 

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” says Tuner. Despite the quiet of his voice they all jump. A moment later the door slides open.

Chaos greets them with a mechanical screech.

The first time Cal encountered a battle droid he’d thought it sounded funny. The robotic quality of its voice mixed with its general inability to think for itself made it say funny things in a weird voice. Then the droid had pulled a blaster and shot Fifty through the chest and suddenly they weren’t funny anymore. So despite the screeching and garbled words coming from the battle droids in the room Cal feels all his anxiety pool into icy dread in his stomach.

There are at least twenty droids in the room. What they were doing there is beyond Cal’s ability to decipher. Instead he feels that same fear he felt then and tries his best to let it go as he rushes in with his lightsaber raised.

A shot from his left has Cal spinning to block and send it right back to the droid that fired it. His men also jump into action, sliding down behind empty desks for cover and returning fire. Cal follows only half a heartbeat behind and ducks down beside Twitch. He’s close enough to hear Twitch’s distress call to Captain Key, Master Tapal’s second in command for this mission. Unfortunately, he can’t hear the reply. He tugs on his bond to Master Tapal through the Force anyway. He knows he’ll get a lecture about controlling his fear, but that’s preferable to being dead.

Somewhere to his left Cal hears Tuner yelp and feels his spirit waver in the Force. He grips his lightsaber tight. He can’t lose any of his men. With barely a thought he pops up from behind the desk and begins reflecting back as many of the droid’s blaster bolts as he can.

“Commander! Get down!” Twitch yells and tugs on his robes. Cal ignores it. They aren’t going to make it if they stick to hiding.

With the chaos in the room Cal must rely on the force to warn him of the incoming shots. He can barely see through the dust and sparks in the air. But he holds on even as his arms grow heavy with the effort. Then the droids clue in.

“A Jedi! Get the little one!”

Cal’s heart drops into his stomach as the shadowy figures of the droids in the dust all turn to face him as one unit. He shifts his weight and raises his lightsaber in a defensive stance, but knows in his gut it will not be enough. He should run, or hide like Twitch is screaming at him to do, but instead an odd peace surrounds him and he stands his ground. When the droids fire he spins his lightsaber in wide arcs in front of him. The ‘saber feels oddly distant, moving faster than ever on its own accord. Cal feels like he’s a passenger in his own body watching the blaster bolts be reflected back to the droids. At least until the sensation of white hot pain sinks into him.

Cal staggers and Twitch takes the opportunity to yank him down beside him.

“Karking hell, Commander,” Twitch growls.

Looking down Cal spots the singed side of his robes and the charred flesh across his ribs. It hurts more to see it and Cal swears he can feel the frayed edges of his robes catching in his flesh and dragging thin lines through it. He breathes in sharply through his nose and tries not to cry. They’re still in the middle of a firefight, he can’t cry and distract everyone.

“I’m fine,” Cal gasps. “I’m good.”

“With all due respect: that’s bantha shit, Commander,” says Twitch.

Cal frowns at him, then flinches as a blaster bolt pings off the desk above their heads. On Twitch’s other side Sunny returns fire and another droid falls with a metallic scream. It won’t be enough though. Though they’ve reduced the numbers down by half at least, Tuner is down and only Sunny and Mulch are firing back at this point. Twitch is too busy fussing at Cal when he should be helping take out the droids. Cal isn’t going to die right then and there, though even breathing hurts at this point. The blaster bolt had gone straight through the soft skin over his ribs below his armpit. He can’t even move his arm either, instead frozen with it held out to the side awkwardly.

They’re going to lose. Cal squeezes his eyes shut to stop the tears from leaking. They’re going to die here and it’s going to be all his fault. He’s going to watch his men die while he struggles to breathe through the wound in his side. The heat of it radiates through him in waves, numbing and burning in turns. Twitch is trying to peel a bacta patch to put on it but his hands are shaking and the armour is making him clumsy. It doesn’t matter, they’re going to die anyway.

Then there’s a shout from the doorway. Familiar and deep and full of challenge. Cal looks up to see Master Tapal and his team step through the doorway, the bright light from the hall framing them from behind. For a moment Cal forgets the pain. Relief floods him as Master Tapal and his team charge into the battle and make quick work of the surprised droids. This is how the rest of the galaxy feels when the Jedi come to the rescue, Cal thinks. Then the pain starts creeping back in to the edges of his consciousness and he shrinks down against the smooth metal of the desk.

Twitch takes the opportunity to slap the bacta patch on Cal’s wound and the mix of pain and relief makes him jump and reach for the patch. Twitch catches his hands and gently holds them away from it.

“Let the bacta do its thing, Commander,” says Twitch as gently as he can to be heard over the sounds of battle. “We’re good, General Tapal’s got it from here.”

And that is true. In the span of only a few minutes Master Tapal and his men have cleared the room and are getting started on the half of the mission Cal’s team was supposed to complete. Guilt flares in Cal as he watches the clones get to work on copying the Separatist intelligence and check over Tuner. He watches Master Tapal approach him. Or watches his feet pad closer. Between the pain burning through his side and the guilt Cal isn’t sure he can look his Master in the eye. He takes as deep a breath as he can and waits for the inevitable lecture.

[totallynotpeterparker]

I have a dire need for an inquisitor!Cal au where he travels back in time, not in his younger body, but as he is. And like the fall out with Tapal and the 13th battalion. Or even just regular Cal going back in time as his older self. Unfortunately I am too scared of writing for Cal cuz I don’t wanna make him OOC

[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

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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

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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.

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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.

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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!

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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

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Next Chapter: The Way He Touches You

[sincerelylea]

y'all got cal kestis requests? i miss him so much. reader included if you don't mind.

[fancyfrey]

“I remember what the Jedi were,” Hera said,

“during the Clone Wars, it wasn't just the clone pilots who fought to liberate and defend my Homeworld from the droid army. The Jedi were leading those clones. I remember Generals Windu and Kenobi.”

“They were heroes,” Kestis agreed quietly.

“Do you remember them?” She asked carefully.

Textless art for my fanfic

Read on AO3, FFN or Wattpad

[cameron-s-gaskins]

Cal and Bode don't fight on Jedah, instead Cal returns to Cere's base just in time to intervene in her fight with Darth Vader. They're able to escape, then together they track Bode to Nova Garon. With Cere's help, an agreement is reached. Can Bode be redeemed? In the meantime, Darth Vader amps up his search for Cal and Cere, and Obi-Wan receives a message and leaves Tatooine for a second time. A fan comic.

Planning on making this somewhere around 80-100 pages, give or take. I've got the first 60 pages written and roughly sketched out, but it'll still be slow going.

[lesbian-cal-kestis]

Pretty sure the only tropes i have floating around in my head are:

Cal Kestis getting hurt

Cal Kestis getting betrayed

Cal Kestis being emotionally unstable

Cal Kestis being evil due to all 3 of the above reasons

Cal Kestis being evil because its fun to write him like that

I feel bad. This man deserves a loving family but that does not, in my opinion, make for a compelling story (at the very least, in my writing style it does not make for a compelling story).

[kindasleepywriter]

An Unexpected Visit (Cal Kestis x Mechanic!Reader)

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

Warnings: Small blood mention.

Words: 3.8k

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

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

You, however, hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The cantina’s owner?

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

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

You examined the man closer, as he was clearly only interested in the droid. Now that the adrenaline had mostly run its course, your mind pointed out how attractive the man was. Sure, his armor-looking leather garments looked like they had seen better days, but it was hard to ignore his soft-swept hair, scatter of freckles and sharp jawline that his stubble didn’t quite manage to hide, not to mention his lean yet muscled build.

The droid, beedee, didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he pushed into your leg again and emitted a series of noises you couldn’t understand.

“Is he always this unclear or is my binary just rusty?” you asked the man hesitantly, keeping the rebar in hand and taking a few steps back to put space in between the two of you.

“He got shot in the middle of a fight, his vocabulator got damaged,” he said. Your grip on the metal tightened. A fight? “I was going to fly to a relay point to find him a new one, but this guy,” he shot a reproachful look at the droid, “Won’t stay put long enough for me to go.”

The droid continued his monologue. The only word you could make out was ‘Mechanic’.

“I’m a mechanic, beedee, is that why you came to see me?”

He near-violently nodded his head.

“I’m sorry he disturbed you, like I said, we need the new component to fix it.” Cal said, shrugging.

You crouched and took a closer look. You could view the injured piece now, its main area intact but its outer edge clearly burnt out. You shook your head. “You don’t need a new one, actually.”

Cal looked at you like you’d grown a third head. “Have you seen the chip? That thing is as good as dead.”

“Not if you reroute the circuit towards his internal commlink instead.”

He blinked. “You’ve worked on droids before?” he asked cautiously.

You nodded. “It’s what I trained for as a teen on my home planet, but I had the great luck of finding a dishonest pilot who promised me there were a lot of droids here.” You gestured to your near empty workshop, embarrassed. “As you can see, not quite the reality of the area. The only ones here are those the raiders keep, and I’ve made it quite clear to them on multiple occasions that they could shove it. Being on their bad side isn’t the greatest, but at least I’m not helping them loot and kill people. Used to work on ships too and loved that, but those are also lacking here.”

He looked at you as if evaluating your body language. You weren’t exactly hard to read; you wore your emotions quite visibly. “Why haven’t you left?” he asked.

“A droid mechanic on a droid-less planet doesn’t exactly have the revenue to jump on a hyperspace voyage. Maybe in a couple years, but at this rate the raiders will have found any stash of money I could keep. Anyways! what I’m trying to say is I can fix beedee if you want.” The droid beeped approvingly from where he stood, jumping up and down in triumph.

Cal seemed to weigh the risks. You didn’t blame him, some unknown mechanic on a near empty outer rim planet didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you knew you could make the repairs easily.

“Alright,” he said defeatedly, “but if a single electrical filament is damaged, I’ll know, and you won’t get a cent.”

You shrugged, his threat not scaring you. The droid already had enough injuries as is, you weren’t planning on adding to them.

Beedee jumped up to the worktable you’d been working at earlier and you pushed aside the metal detector with a wince. The movement pulled on your palm painfully. The droid didn’t miss your reaction and pushed on your injured hand with a foot.

“Just a cut, little guy, nothing to worry about.” You said, perhaps unconvincingly. The screwdriver you’d used was a bit rusty, and you knew you should get a bacta patch to keep an infection from spreading, but you couldn’t afford one. You’d wash it out with water later and hope for the best.

The droid didn’t miss a beat at words and a little vial was suddenly flung up in the air. You didn’t manage to catch it, not having the reaction time you might have with more rest and water in you, but a calloused hand caught it before it could hit the ground. Cal stood next to you, offering the tube in an open hand

“A stim?” you exclaimed, picking it up and examining it, “I haven’t seen one of those in years, they cost a fortune.” You glanced towards Cal.  “I’m not sure the cut warrants using one.” you added.

The man just folded his arms and leaned against the table. “If beedee says you need one, I wouldn’t argue, or else you’ll be arguing with him all night.” he said.

You mumbled a soft thank you as you injected the stim, your hands already feeling much better after only a few seconds. You took off the cloth and despite the dark red that coated your hand, the cut had all but disappeared, leaving only a thin pink line behind. You scrubbed the dry blood off as best you could and turned towards the droid again.

He sat in front of you, presenting his exposed wiring. You picked up your smallest welder and started working, self-conscious of your beat-up tools. You could feel Cal leaning in with each detailed movement you made, unquestionably watching the process to learn how to do it himself. You worked as diligently as you could despite your focus trailing occasionally to the man that held close to your side. The slight reprieve the night air provided seemed gone, his warmth seeping into your skin.

It wasn’t a complicated job, you just needed to reroute the processor to the commlink to translate the droid’s processes into clear binary code to then bypass the burnt translator located on the edge of the vocabulator. It was a trick that was specific to this type of vocabulator though, so it wasn’t a well-known process.

You finished with the rerouting, satisfied by the clear binary beedee could now emit as he properly introduced himself to you. And idea shot through you and you slipped out from Cal’s side to reach for your spare parts bin. You rummaged through it for a moment, the droid sending you a questioning whistle.

“Wait a minute! I know I’ve got it somewhere here…” you grumbled. “Ah-ah! Here it is.”

You held out a grey piece of thin durasteel as you sauntered back to the waiting duo, grabbing your heat gun along the way. “I think I can give you a temporary fix for your casing, let me just… There! It doesn’t match your colors, but it should do the trick.” You slid a newly shaped metal plate over the spot where the casing had melted away, grinning at its sturdiness. “This won’t fix it forever; I’d need a little more time to make an entirely new one and to make it the right color, but this should keep your components safe for a while!”

BD-1, as you now knew him, spun around in circles as he tried to check out his new part. You took out a small mirror from a drawer and held it up to him so he could see. He let out a string of excited beeps and whistles, repeatedly asking Cal to look at his ‘cool looking patch’. You glanced to the man on your side and discovered him watching you intently with a small smile. You felt your cheeks heating under his stare and scuttled back a few steps.

“Uhm, I hope this all works out until you’re able to find new parts, you guys! I could get started on a new custom permanent case too, so beedee doesn’t lose his usual flair.” BD-1 whistled in approval. “Shouldn’t take me more than a few days, maybe 5 at most, if you’re interested.”

Cal nodded, his intense gaze not faltering. “I think that’d be perfect. How much for today’s work?”

“Oh no, consider it as a repayment for that stim and for the opportunity to work on a droid again. Honestly, I had forgotten how much more interesting it is than working on the prospectors’ tools. As for the pickup, if I’m not here when you come back to get it, that means I’ve gone out to trade for parts. I’ll leave the finished casing in this drawer here,” you pointed to the right one, “and you seem to know how to get past the locks. Just close it back up when you leave!”

He laughed at the remark and thanked you for your work on BD-1. The droid gave you a sharp farewell whistle despite its clear disappointment at having to leave already. He climbed onto Cal’s back as the man moved toward your shop’s door.

“Hey,” you called, “if you come around this corner of the galaxy again after picking up beedee’s casing, don’t hesitate to swing by! It’s always nice seeing someone new.”

He turned on his feet, walking backwards for a few steps. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other again, don’t worry.” He winked at you, leaving you at a loss for words, and turned back to walk through the door.

After you calmed your elevated heartbeat, you locked up after him, deciding the two unexpected guests were enough for one night. You leaned back against the door and sighed. Maybe you should’ve accepted the money. Cal seemed like a nice guy, but Koboh was getting harder every day. Habo was still on your mind, but you’d settle for anything other than this damn planet. Kriff, you’d even be willing to join a crew of wandering space pirates if that meant you actually got to do something other than retrieve and fix the same old tools over and over again. Maybe one day luck would favor you, you thought, or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

-- 9 days later ---

The walk back from trading was always exhausting. The prospectors that held the best materials were currently residing on a high cliff that hid a cave’s opening. Getting up there was arduous, but if you left early enough it was manageable despite the climbing you had to do. By the time you made the trek back, however, there was no escaping the sun’s rays, and the only thing keeping your hands from the burning rocks as you scaled down the cliff was an almost ruined pair of leather gloves. They wouldn’t last another climb, you thought, and neither would your boots.

You’d have to find something to barter with the one villager who made most of the prospectors’ equipment. You didn’t even have money for food this week, but you’d make do, like you always did. Maybe you’d go back to the cantina tonight to offer maintenance on Greez’s bartender droid. His cantina was apparently bringing in more customers this week, so maybe you could find some other work there too.

You were also looking forward to hearing more of the village gossip. You’d heard rumors of a Jedi taking down raiders all over the region when you’d gone for a drink the night before but given that the source of that information was Turgle, you were far from convinced. A Jedi would be hunted down in a minute by the Empire, especially if they used their famed weapon and left witnesses. The fisherman you sometimes saw hanging around the streams, Skoova, had however confirmed that there was indeed a newcomer hunting down raiders for sport.

He hadn’t been very talkative, only describing him as a short-haired man of average height that fought in a poncho. You didn’t know how you felt about someone wearing a poncho on a desert planet, though you did find humor at the idea of the raiders getting their ass kicked by some new guy in a raincoat. Either way, if there was a chance that this not-a-Jedi-even-though-Turgle-says-he-is guy had arrived here by ship, you wanted to find out more no matter his unusual taste in clothing.

You entered your workshop after the long walk back from the prospectors, bracing for the intolerable heat of your metal cage. You stored what little you’d brought back in its rightful place and dragged your feet to your worktable, ready to start working on another tool a prospector had given you to fix. You remembered distantly that Cal still hadn’t swung by to pick up BD-1’s new case.

You peeked inside the drawer and found it empty of the custom case. There were a few credits in there, thankfully enough to cover the material you’d used for the case, plus a couple more. Despite the much-needed money, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Of course, the one day you left your workshop had to be the one when he decided to come here. You sighed and pushed the drawer away, rubbing your eyes with your palms, hoping (and doubting) that he would visit again. You didn’t even know what region of Koboh he was from, you didn’t recognize his accent at all.

A glimpse of white caught your eye before the drawer shut completely. You reached towards the unknown object and found a folded note that you were sure hadn’t been in therebefore you left. You opened it and didn’t immediately recognize the handwriting.

-

Thank you for the case, BD-1 is practically begging for a couple more designs (to match my ‘rizz’ - I have no idea what that means. He convinced me to wear an old grey poncho I had just so we matched and I fear giving in to the different colored cases will be the start of a slippery slope, but how could I say no to the little guy?)

I’ve gone off-track – What I mean to tell you is that if you still want to leave Koboh, there will be a ship (it’s mine) at the landing pad until 1500 tomorrow. Bring what you need, but I have all the essentials on board. Food and water I mean, and maybe I have a spare toothbrush somewhere too?

Anyway. We’ll figure it out.

I can drop you off somewhere if you want, but I wouldn’t mind a mechanic on board if you’re interested. Can’t guarantee regular hours or absolute safety but hey, still more interesting than metal detectors, right?

This might be my last visit to Koboh in a while.

P.S.: BD-1 wants you to know you’re the only one allowed to fix his leg, and that he ‘requires you on board’. His words, not mine. He shot an electric dart at the last person who tried to repair it (me).

Cal

-

You couldn’t help but let out a loud celebratory shout as you read. He had a ship, and you were finally getting out of here! No more prospectors whining at the time it took to fix their tools, no bedlam raiders trying to kick through your door in the middle of the night, no need to refill your water supply from the well that stood well over a mile away.

You’d happily make BD-1 a thousand little metal outfits to match Cal’s ponchos if he wanted-

Your mind screeched to a stop. Hadn't that been the outfit Skoova mentioned?

You remembered what Turgle said about the second newcomer, the one he had called a Jedi. You didn’t remember ever reading about that order using guns, but… Cal had been carrying another weapon. The metal handle, you now realized, that was hanging at his side.

Oh kriff.

Had the idea while building the BD-1 Lego set. I meant for this to be just a little 1k meet-cute oneshot, Of course, me being me, i wrote 5k. Edited it a little, and it's as short as I can tolerate lmao

My first time posting for Star Wars! Still not over Survivor despite having played it more than 100 hour in the first two weeks i got it, and having done reruns since. The double-bladed stance has me in a chokehold.

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