Cal Kestis Series - Tumblr Posts

A Candle in the Dark - 1

↬ fem!reader x cal kestis 

Chapter 1: Crash 🕯︎

Once a padawan before the tragic events of Order 66, you crash on Bracca, thanks to a broken ship piece and the bounty on your head. Pain and suffering were all you knew. You didn’t think Bracca could change that, but the galaxy works in peculiar ways...

✧ Genre: ANGST this chapter is sad (i promise fluff later on)

✧ Media: chapter series

✧ Word Count: 1.9k

!!! Warning tags: star wars stuff - death, violence, blood, swearing. reader deals with ptsd and reader wants to die lowkey - basically reader is going through it. reader gets hurt, details of ship crashing.

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

Air filled your lungs in one sweeping motion like a cold, swift river. Your vision lit up with sparks as icy air encompassed your body like a rough blanket. You were alive. You could feel your head recalling the events that led you to where you were as each second passed. Mist sat delicately over your messy hair and bruised, cut body. Your arms and legs shook with shock as the adrenaline slowly left you like a broken faucet.

It felt as though you had woken up from a dream, regaining consciousness and countless thoughts each moment. You turned your head once your body allowed, eyes raking over your legs. Pain shot through your right foot to your head, exploding in your brain at the sight. A massive, oozing red gash adorned your leg, water and blood pooling on the crumpled metal that was once your ship beneath you. 

You could've sworn you could hear the words in your head out loud from how loud your head was pounding. You lifted a timid, shaking hand to your temple, just to make sure this was all real, to ground yourself. You were not ready to touch your leg, but your head felt much worse than you’d imagined and your instincts were begging you to do so. A cold shock seared through you as you felt liquid on your fingers, a viscous crimson sticking to your hair and dripping down my face. You’d hit your head, and hard. The crash had shaken your whole being, and you were in shock you weren't dead. Though you were relieved to keep living, a small part of you didn’t want to. How easy it would've been to let death pick you gracefully from the fallen ship in mangled pieces scattered all over Bracca - to be lifted from the burden of being Force sensitive. 

But that was not your reality. Rather, you were laying uncomfortably; cold, wet, and bleeding out in the pieces of your destroyed cruiser. You had an odd feeling you’d never make it off of Bracca. At least, not easily. You would leave in a similar manner to how you came in. Chaotic, fire-filled, and with destruction…

As you sat, trying your hardest to gain some sense of balance and strength to finally lift yourself, your mind drifted to the actions that resulted in your condition. A broken fucking baffle of all things. You should’ve known repairing one would’ve cost you an arm and a leg. 

Spies, fugitives, scavengers, and scum alike on the run had been using baffles for as long as you knew. It was the oldest trick in the book. Didn’t want your energy signature seen? An engine baffle would make it invisible to others in the galaxy. Yours had been your saving grace until it broke. Which is how you were found, how you were mercilessly shot down, and the reason you found yourself in the middle of a large strip of hard ground on Bracca surrounded by other wrecks and pinces of ships. You nearly blended right in.

You then thought about how you really ended up here. From the beginning. Blasters firing red shots of light held by your once friends, being shot at your other friends. Padawans and Masters both fell, a forceful headache enclosing your body as you tried to take yourself out of the moment. No more.  

You counted in your head, hoping by a miracle you could walk alright, let alone stand. Your hands gripped a piece of steel stuck out to your left, your right hand placed firmly as if the mucky, wet weather of Bracca would allow it. One, two, three. With tense arms you pushed as firmly as your enervated body allowed, groaning in pain as you felt the full force of your bleeding leg try to stand. You braced yourself on a piece of wall, if you could even call it such, leaning against it like you were a small child holding onto your parents legs. Kriff. Your leg hurt. God, did it hurt. Each time you thought the pain would subside, it got worse. The panic of not being able to do anything set hard and fast, as tears dripped from your eyes. You didn’t try to stop them or wipe them away. You just let them fall. You wished you’d fallen like them, from the air, hit the ground…and just disappear. 

The wind nipped your face as you grew colder. Night was approaching as the light grey skies faded to a blueish, darker gray, large packs of clouds dotting over the sky.

It was time to find shelter. You had to move, walk, something. You moved your good leg first, groaning again as you stood straight up. The junkyard in front of you looked like a graveyard. Dark, still, and sad. There was an odd aura in the air that made your stomach swirl. You gulped and took another step, this time on your bad leg, which was not the greatest idea. 

You fell hard on Bracca’s surface, mud squelching as you made a rough impact with the ground. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. You thought it couldn’t get any worse than that when you heard a pair of footsteps that moved to ring throughout your skull. They were heavy but quick, pounding the mud deeper into the ground. You whipped your head around, pushing through the dull, constant pain in your head, and searing one in your leg, holding yourself up pitifully on the wet ground. 

Your eyes met a tall, rust-colored man who was of the Abednedo species. He had beedy eyes that were set far apart on his big face, his nostrils below his small eyes. The dark navy color of his suit nearly made him blend in with what seemed to be the single color of Bracca, if not for his large stature and orange vest. 

His brow bone furrowed as he took in your pathetic position. Legs tangled in the mud, torso twisted towards him with warm blood coating the left side of your face, as it dripped like melted ice cream. You weren't sure if it was the angle you were staring at him, or the way everything around you was spinning, but he looked like his first goal wasn’t to outright kill you. 

Instinct and memories of the last five years flooded your head as you told yourself he would. You were a stranger, no use to him: so you would die. But instead, a look of terror flooded his face as he began his plod to your crumpled body. 

“Hey, you okay?” He spoke timidly, almost as if he was afraid of scaring you. 

You grunted, trying to sit up to ready yourself for god knows what was about to happen to you, when this thick arms shot out as a maneuver to prove himself as an ally. 

“Woah, I don’t wanna hurt you, kid.” You relaxed, or more like slumped out of tenseness from exhaustion, though he didn’t seem to come with ill intent. He bent down next to your sprawled body in the mud, small eyes darting over your form. 

“Geez, you got busted up pretty bad, huh? Let me help you up.” He stood firm and tall, though his gaze didn’t seem the slightest intimidating as he held out a hand to you.

You stared at him for a while, lips in a flat line and eyebrows low, with eyes larger than you meant them to be. You unwillingly reached for his arm and he pulled you up. 

You did not in any way shape or form trust him. You’d meet creatures who’d play nice then turned their back on you after minutes, or even months. You’d met species who embraced their knack for blood, attempting to strike you down right away. You knew he was bad, everyone in the galaxy seemed to be today. But the bliss idea of death cradling you fighting with your aching knee and body caused your shaking arm to reach as pathetically as it could. He would not help you. That was just how it worked after you were forced from Coruscant. But you couldn’t find it in your tired heart or head to care. 

Your forehead tensed horrifically as your whole upper body followed, from your fingernails to your core. Fuck, it hurt to stand, even with a considerable amount of your weight leaning on the Abednedo. He seemed to have no words; yet behind his eyes you could tell how he was truly seeing you in that moment. Pathetic. To him you looked like a sad, injured kitten who needed help. 

In a flash you pushed off him to stand, wanting to do this shit on your own, but your flicker of confidence was doused the second you were straight up, eyes nearly meeting the ground before the man grabbed you with his large arms. 

“Kid, you can’t stand.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped. You barely recognised your own coarse, venom-filled voice. 

“Then what should I be calling you?”

Silence.

He sighed as he began walking, your body still leaning into his arm.

“I’m Prauf. This is Bracca, if you didn’t know. I’ve been uh…been working here for a while.” He took your silence as a chance to continue speaking to you, in hopes to distract the searing pain in your body. 

“We uh, used to rebuild these things.” He gestured out to the hundreds of shipwrecks and crashed parts surrounding your small path up the large, dark hill of dirt and scrap

“Now we just take 'em even more apart.” Your feet dragged on the gravelly ground, shoes sopping with mud. It felt like you were dragging bricks for feet. 

“I have to tell you, it’s not too exciting here, there’s, uh…not much to do. But you’ll get used to it.” Even the man you’d met less than an hour ago knew you were not getting off this trash planet anytime soon. 

“I need to learn more about you, kid, before the boss comes around. He’s not too fond of newcomers, especially those off-system by the looks of your cruiser.” You gave him a quizzical look, which he understood only half of when he spoke. 

“That’s what happens when you’ve been here for as long as me. I know every ship, cruiser, fighter, and piece that comes in and out of this place. You’ll learn if you haven’t got a knack already.”

“What makes you think I’ll work?” 

You'd expected the man to make a quip at you for finally speaking. Something like, “Ah, she speaks.” But you were learning that wasn’t that kind of person. Instead, he laughed lightly, air pushing from his far set nostrils. 

“Well that’s all there is to do here. You wanna fix that nasty gash on your head, you're gonna need some medical supplies and a place to stay. They won’t hand it to you without something in return.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“And I don’t think you are. You seem like one tough kid.”

“Y/N.” Your name escaped from your lips in a mumbled, but Prauf’s acute senses picked up on your single word.

He smiled slightly, slowing his pace as he gazed down at you. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

A Candle in the Dark - 2

↬ fem!reader x cal kestis

Chapter 2: Missing Pieces 🕯︎

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

✧ Genre: a bit of angst, pretty general

✧ Media: chapter series

✧ Word Count: 2.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was just about to wake you.”

“How stable is this place?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“Stay here.”

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

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

“This is her, chief.” 

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes, turning again to face it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cal sighed, apparently sharing your feelings for the man.

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

Cal snorted, continuing with his work.

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

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

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

“Are you and Prauf…”

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

You nodded lightly, “He is.”

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

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