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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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*pokes fingers together* If you take promts, I'm not sure if this has been done before but what about reader getting a semi-serious injury so they're out of action for a while (like lightsaber holding wrist/arm/etc) but they are restless and want to get back into practicing and battling really quick, pushing themselves and of course Cal is there to make sure they... don't. XD Taking care of them, refusing practice until they are fully healed and such. Well, only if you like the idea ofc~ :3

I think I’ve done something similar to this but only for a minor wound, so this time you’re the one with the major wound prompt hehe ^w^ Sorry if it’s a bit too short, but I hope you’d still like this! 💕

“Just A Scratch” | Cal Kestis x Reader

Masterlist

The quaint settlement town in Lothal is disturbed by the hot pursuit of two Jedi. The speeder bikes zoomed past the denizens, shifting left and right to catch up with the Jedi taking the sharp turns around the curb.

“Stop there! Insurgents!” the patrol trooper taking the lead barked.

“This way, hurry!” Cal snatched you by the arm and made a blind turn to the alley.

Squeezing yourselves in that narrow annex, Cal waited and listened for the sound of the speeder’s engine receding. You slowly peeked your head over the wall and surveyed the street left and right.

“Are they gone?” Cal mumbled.

“I think so,”

You emerged out of that tight fit and scanned again for good measure. Cal followed when you confirmed that the coast is clear. The two of you headed to the direction you intended to go. As you sprinted through the streets, both of you were watchful on the turns and curbs along the way—presuming that there’d be a Stormtrooper or two waiting for you.

Cal scraped his boots against the road when he spotted a couple of Stormtroopers coming out of the curb ahead of you.

“Nope! This way, this way!” he whispered, snatching you by the wrist and dragging you to the alleyway directly beside him.

This whole pursuit is happening in this maze of a town. It’s amazing that Lothalites are able to navigate their way through such a complicated layout. After one wrong turn, you ended up getting spotted by a group of three guards—one on a speeder and two Stormtroopers.

“I found the insurgents! They’re in the western alley at Block 8C!” the Stormtrooper radioed and aimed his blaster at you.

“Oh crud, RUN!!” you screeched and turned the other way.

The two of you easily deflected the Stormtroopers’ shots but are now in pursuit of another patrol trooper—this one wasn’t even riding the scooter-like model, the one he drove was the kind of speeder bike armed with blaster cannons.

After a while of sprinting, Cal noticed that the sound of the speeder bike has receded.

“Is he still on us?!” Cal asked.

“I don’t even wanna look back!”

In your collective periphery, the trooper has made himself quite resourceful with the environment—he slid up a toppled awning that led him to the rooftops as he continued the chase, he really hit the pedal to the metal with his bike until he’s gotten ahead of you. The two of you watched his entire stunt as you ran.

“What is he doing!?” you squealed.

The biker patroller jumped off a rooftop when he got to a considerable distance ahead of you—that was his plan all along: he meant to cut off your path by going on ahead and stopping you there. You hate to admit that the trooper was good driver and a daredevil nonetheless.

He had his speeder bike idled on one end of the road while the two of you stood at the other.

With the press of a button on the dashboard, the barrels of the cannons whirred and aimed at the general direction of his enemy, the trooper’s thumb rested on the trigger, it trembled with eagerness as he peered through the black visor of his helmet.

The Jedi couple unclipped their sabers from their belts.

Promptly, the trooper pressed the button, releasing two simultaneous shots from the cannons. Compared to typical handheld blasters, projectiles from vehicle cannons were much trickier to deflect and required more precision. Your eagle eye spotted the barrel of the cannon pointing at Cal and the trooper was lowering his thumb to the red button.

“CAL, WATCH OUT!!”

You shouldered Cal out of the line of fire. In exchange, your dodge got lousy and the thick, red projectile had cut through your sleeve, gravely injuring your bicep. A mixture of clear liquid and hot blood trickled smoothly down on your skin. The pain was so sharp and abrupt that the fingers that curled around your lightsaber rendered completely limp. The burning sensation made you fumble to your knees.

“[Y/N]!!”

Cal quickly dragged you out of the scene, keeping you cover behind a stack of crates before facing the trooper.

The biker sped straight ahead, closing its distance from the Jedi; in the blink of an eye, when the vehicle was just neck-and-neck with Cal, he severed the two-pronged front and the blaster cannons with his saber until the vehicle spun out of control and then crashed into another incoming biker scout.

He watched the enemies and their vehicles reduced to shrapnel and flames as he took deep breaths. He immediately turned his attention to you. You struggle to take slow, rhythmic breaths while easing yourself from the pain. Cal slowly removed your other hand that’s been pressuring on the wound to stop the bleeding. You winced and breathed through clenched teeth when he separated your hand from the injury, blood and water curdled under your hand until it became a sticky mixture to make your palm appear glued to the flesh wound.

“BD, stim!”

“B-Boo!!”

BD-1 popped out a single stim from his container and Cal injected the bright green syringe on your shoulder. You winced at the quick jab of the needle as the substance entered your body.

“Aww God, I can’t feel it,” you moaned.

“The stim?”

“No, my arm,”

“Come on, I’ll help you up,”

Cal made a crutch out of himself for you as he helped you hobble your way back to the outskirts of the town where the Mantis is.

Even though Cere wasn’t surprised anymore to see either of you coming home with a scratch, she always gives that stern, motherly look at both of you when she greets you by the door or at the couch.

“Just a scratch!” you scoffed smugly at her.

“That’s one hell of a scratch, if you ask me,”

“Nothing a little bacta can fix,” you winked as Cal shepherded you to the bedroom.

“Alright, alright, let’s get you cleaned and patched up!”

He helped you remove your top which now has a large gash on the sleeve, revealing the flesh wound with dried blood smeared on its radius.

“Thing of beauty, isn’t it?” you blurted jokingly.

“I’m glad the trooper didn’t hit your funny bone,” he chuckled back. “Wait here, I’ll just get some water.”

For the next minute, you stared at the flesh wound. The clear liquid clumped and dried, turning into a slight yellow color, you carefully plucked out the fibers that adhered to the surface of the injury. The sound of the bathroom door shut and Cal returned to the room.

“Don’t pick at it,” he lectured.

“It’s just the threads of my shirt,”

He soaked then wrung a towel in the bowl of water he collected from the bathroom, gingerly wiping off the dried blood and then daubing the wound itself. One of the things you loved about Cal is how gentle his hands were—for a scrapper, no less.

“I guess I owe you one,”

“It’s nothing, Cal,”

“No, really,” he looked at you with sincerity in his clear, green eyes. “Thank you. I don’t know how you do it but you’re always saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” you leaned closer to kiss him on the forehead.

The cycle repeated: soak, wring, and dab. When it was finally clean, he cut a strip of bacta—long enough to ring around your arm—and secured it with its adhesive.

“There, all patched up. You’re not gonna use that lightsaber for a few days,”

“So… I’m out of action for now?” Cal replied with a nod and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t get any funny ideas unless you want your other arm hurt,”

You sighed in defeat. There was no more room for argument. Cal playfully touched the tip of your nose, consoling you with a cheek kiss before leaving the room to return the materials. Simply reaching for your saber became a struggling, as the slightest turn strained your arm and—albeit limp—it felt heavy. To make the numbness go away, you flexed your fingers, opening and closing your fist at a pace, though you found it hard to maintain your usual grip.

You practiced the grip exercises on one of the tools sitting on the workbench. You practiced gripping on a wrench—starting off softly, you gradually progressed to the usual tightness of your grip but your fingers felt numb as well. Frustrated, you dropped the tool and sat back on the bed—and Cal had spotted you trying to regain your grip.

“Look, I know it’s hard right now, but trying to practice on anything isn’t a good idea right now,”

You grumbled something indistinct, Cal held your cheeks and then smothered your face with kisses. He took you out of the room so you could join everyone for lunch.

That afternoon, everyone lazed inside the ship—except for you, of course. You snuck out of the ship, tiptoeing past the cockpit—luckily, Merrin had her back turned when facing the holotable—and you hit the button as quietly as you could. You slipped past the door, finally, and the soles of your boots found the grass.

It looked and felt awkward, but you unclipped your saber with your left hand—which you aren’t obviously used to—and did some handling practice with it unignited.

“Okay, so far, so good. Could never go wrong with basic spins,” you tell yourself.

You thought that igniting then wielding it in a non-dominant arm is the stupidest thing that ever crossed your action-desperate mind. You switched the saber to your good hand and repeated the same grip exercises that you did with the wrench earlier.

Even if it pained you whenever you moved it, you tried to perform your usual attack swings and strikes, a spinning attack would be the most daring in this circumstance.

You came to the conclusion that it was lousier when wielding it with your dominant but messed up arm.

“My right arm is practically dead at this point,” you scoffed.

You looked for something to practice your left-handedness on, you spotted a withered tree trunk standing not far from the ship and you decided to walk towards it.

In less than two paces, you feel an arm hook around your waist, causing you to drop your lightsaber to the soil. He hoisted you up to his shoulder until you’re hanging behind his back, while securing you by the thighs.

“Where do you think you’re going, kitty cat?”

“Oh come on!” you whined, smacking his back in retaliation. “I swear I wasn’t going to the tree to practice.”

“Uh-huh, sure you are,” Cal replied with his signature sarcasm, blatantly ignoring your light slaps on the broad of his back. “Bad girl.”

You gradually gave up on the continuous, light slapping on his back as he carried you all the way back to the ship. You reached for your saber, pulling it with the Force towards your hand before he could get farther.

“Sneak out once more and I’ll punish you,” he firmly said.

“Okay,” you nonchalantly replied, waving your saber around as he marched. You smirked to yourself. “I’ll sneak out tonight then.”

“No, you’re not,”

The two of you mockingly bickered back and forth whether or not you’ll sneak out in the dead of night just to get a swing of your saber. He settled you down on the couch like a toddler, bent down to level with you and looked at you in the eye.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes,” you perked.

“Promise me you won’t sneak out first,”

“Of course, it was a damn bribe,” you muttered.

“Promise?” he repeated, but sternly this time.

With a comical innocence, your free hand held your right arm by the wrist, raised it up in mid-air and a limp hand bobbed to the side.

“Padawan’s honor,”

Cal raised an eyebrow.

“What rank do you want? Grandmaster’s honor?”

“Good girl,” he smiled and kissed the tip of your nose before retreating to the kitchen.

Your eyes followed him until he began fishing out cups and spoons from the drawers. Utensils lightly clattered here and there, the viscous chocolate sloshed from the pitcher to the glasses. He brought one for each of you and he cuddled into you on the couch. He scooped up your legs and rested them over his lap, he puts his arm around your shoulder, sipping away the sweet liquid each minute while nuzzling his cheek on your head.

“I hope this heals soon,” you muttered, a sad, bored tone rang in your words.

“Soon, sweetie,” he kisses your forehead. “Soon. Then we’ll go practice once it’s not so bad anymore.”

“Promise?” you angled your head up so you could look at him in the eye.

He smiled at the sight of your soulful, puppy eyes.

“I promise.”

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