Fandom One Shots

1. Biggest Turn-On

Admiring you when you dress up in the morning, spooning you in the few lazy mornings you're both granted. Seeing you lingering in the house, just wearing one of his shirts, underwear or not. 

2. Biggest Turn-off

Lies. Do not lie to him. He's a survivor and he doesn't need people who would abuse his trust in his life.

3. Quickest way to get horny

Lingering gazes as you walk into him through your kitchen, leaning your body into him while kissing him, and jumping on the countertop, wrapping your legs around his waist. That would certainly lead to a quickie, both keeping your clothes on, or a long torrid night.

4. Top 3 places to be touched

Joel is a sucker for gentle touches and tickling while he sleeps. He loves when you travel your fingers through his dark, grayish hair, helping him soothe and calm from what he has seen outside during the day. Number two would be the small of his back and his ass, grabbed when he pounds into you.. And number three would be his gorgeous thighs, more precisely the groin. No need to tell you how much he craves you for kisses down there.

5. Do you like the idea of a threesome or moresome ?

Probably not. Joel is possessive and intense at love. He would never share you, and you would never accept another woman to own him as he lets you claim him as yours, don't you Honey ?

6. Sex or Masturbation ?

Oh both. That man is a passionate god surviving through hell. He needs to indulge, and to fuck. He needs you. All the time. He needs those moments with you, either tenderness, comforting and listening. But gods he needs good sex. And he would absolutely pleasure himself thinking of you if you've been far away from for too long.. Even for a few days. The man would miss you as soon as you're not in his sight.

7. Spit or Swallow ?

Girl. He wouldn't ask you. You just gotta swallow, ‘til the last drop.

“Look at you.. Such a good girl for me, aren't you ? That's it.. Swallow it for me, all of it,”

8. Rough or Romantic sex ?

Both. Joel adores you when you take care of him. And you would pretty much be the only one in this scorched world he would return that care to. He loves your tender and soft nights, full of caresses and long, wet kissing, but he's is a wild man, seeking, and needing roughness and wilderness.

9. Loud or quiet partners ?

You better be loud and significant to how he makes you feel.. But Joel is anyway going to make you scream, whether you're loud or not.

10. How much foreplay ?

Sometimes there is no foreplay. If Joel needs you right away as he sees you, he will take what's his for sure, wasting no time. But he is also known to be an exceptional lover. Making love to you, amusing and pleasing you for hours, watching you coming over and over on his fingers, or on his lips, would absolutely content him and make him hard as hell too.. Let's be honest.

11. How much teasing does he like ?

He likes it very much, but to a certain point. You better manage the man or he will manage you, and ravage you. He's very fond of public teasing, like discreet side eyeing while Tommy or the others are around, stolen kisses at the back of house while no one is watching. That is good teasing to him, a promise that a great time is awaiting for him at night.

12. Hooks up or only partners ?

After Sarah's mother he had multiple hooks up, but since he's with you he wants to be only yours, and of course you should never betray him.

13. How much kissing during sex ?

He simply cannot resist your lips Honey. Most part of the time he could cum while kissing you actually.

14. Favorite place to have sex ?

Bedroom, kitchen (he loves to take you right before you have breakfast, still dizzy from sleep, not even dressed up, probably wearing one of his check shirts, barely covering your intimacy and your breasts)..

15. Would he have sex in public ?

That's something you could ask him, he would probably be turned-on by the getting-caught thing, but since Austin is not a very safe place anymore, he would prefer to make love to you where he feels the safest.

16. Last place he had sex?

His truck, both of you on the driver's seat..

17. Where would he most like to have sex?

His bedroom, or his living room, on the couch after enjoying a nice meal with you.

18. Spontaneous sex or does he need to be in the mood?

Joel is a busy man, worried about everything and everyone to be safe. So you probably will have to hold his face in your hands as he talks about what incautious move Tommy did again today, and crash your lips on his to stop him speaking. That would immediately soothe him and he would take you to his lap, letting you straddle him, a promise of, finally, a nice and intense moment.

19. Would he go for a hookup at a stranger's house?

Before you, yes. Surviving is hard, so he needed to indulge sometimes without any romance involved.

20. Biggest kink?

Don't ask to have mercy if you're wearing a mini-skirt, or a nice summer dress that stops above your knees. He loves those, and above all he loves to fuck you while you keep them on, from the back against a wall.. Pulling your hair back so he can kiss you, his other hand resting on your throat. He would also be likely to dive half of a finger or two too into your mouth while you both are coming. And on top of this.. He would become mad if you let him call you his Babygirl, looking at you sucking those thick digits as cum inside of you.

21. Is he ok with name-calling?

Sometimes. If you've been very taunting in public with him he shall give you what you deserve once at home, and call you once or two.

22. Would he do BDSM?

Probably not. That's not what he really is into..

23. Would he prefer to tie you up or be tied up?

It would grow as a kink for both you for Joel to take you while.. He has your wrists tied behind your back, naked and exposed before him on his bed, at his mercy to fuck as roughly he wants. And he would lose his mind knowing you couldn't do anything but.. Take him. On the other side, Joel would totally let you tie his wrists, also behind his back while you're sitting on his lap, or giving him a nice time. Joel would curl his chest, hovering your head busy to pleasure him, unable to grasp furiously at your hair, nor to guide you to take him deeper.. And that would frustrate him to the utmost, but excite and amuse him for sure.

"Do not dare to think I will let you do this every time, you naughty girl,"

24. Does he like orgasm denial?

He likes you to play with him, but be careful. The man is wild and probably will deny your orgasm at least twice the time you did for him.

25. Does he like overstimulation?

He won't let you play with him too long after he comes, but.. He would love to play with you and make you cum multiple times in a row, holding your thighs tight, curled on his shoulders while he plays unmercifully with you.

26. Does he like pain being involved?

There's enough suffering in his daily life for having painful moments in his bed. The maximum he would do to you would be spanking you.

27. Does he like dirty talk?

Goodness, YES he does. Joel is talker in bed, he just can't help whispering, moaning how much he likes you for being so good to him, so good to fuck and just for him to possess.

28. Does he own sex toys? How many?

He does own a cockring, the one you offered him.. And he loves it to a point that he maybe has used it alone, when thinking of you, desperately missing you.

29. What does he masturbate to?

Memories of you mostly. Of your body framed between the wall of the shower, and him, both naked. And oh, he's terribly demanding when things start to get spicy on the phone, even just through texting. He would even read again your spicy conversations if you're not available, shamefully watching those evocative pictures you have sent him.

30. Multiple rounds or will he settle for one orgasm ?

If his work has spared him some strength, he would probably ravage you so roughly and give in multiple times.. In a row.

31. Does he enjoy giving oral?

Sometimes he would spend an entire night just giving you pleasure Honey, that's what we would call Joel's special. He would switch between being tender, slow, loving and going fast and wild, unmercifully ravaging your bundle of nerves, admirative of the mess on the bed sheets he would be responsible for.

32. Does he prefer giving or receiving oral?

He likes both. Although, he likes his babygirl to take care of him after a long day..

33. What makes him orgasm the fastest ?

Either watching you sucking him, yours eyes dove in his or when you're crying his name as he fucks you ferociously into the matress..

34. Does he like/do anal/pegging?

Nope.

35. Favorite position?

The lazy dog, and missionary are equal tops to him. Being able to ravage you, pounding his hips against you, his burning body laying on your back, pulling your hair and your head back so he can kiss you roughly, desperate to fuck you as deeply as he can.. And of course just being on you, facing you, or both of your faces buried in each others’ neck, sweaty, undone, groaning and screaming your names when reaching the Stars.

36. Does he use protection?

Joel is a careful man and would always ask to use it. Although he would crave to feel you raw around him.. And just make one with you.

37. Does he masturbate with clothes on ?

Yes he does when he thinks of you and misses you so much when you're gone.

38. How does he prefer his partner's hair/grooming?

It's survival here in Austin, so he would absolutely not mind taking you roughly after both of your work days, bodies still sweaty and tired. 

39. What does he wear to bed?

Nothing, so his Babygirl can enjoy his scared body right against her, hold him, tickle his hair and kissing him everywhere.

40. What does he like his partner to wear?

Sexy black lingerie would have him hard the second he sees you in it. He would never resist you if you would come to him dressed up like that. He either would back you up against a wall or immediately carry you to his bed, but he would have you right away, sometimes about to rip your underwear in parts.. But he would never do without asking you. He knows about much you like those.

41. Does he like his balls played with?

That's one of his favorite things his babygirl would do to him. That would absolutely drive him crazy if you do so.. While you're giving his manhood a great time.

42. What is his sexuality?

Joel loves women and their bodies. He would kill to be able to enjoy your's all the time Honey. Unless he already had..

43. Does he have extreme or unusual kinks?

Fucking you in the back of his truck, from the back while you're bending before him, on your knees between the seats and gripping at the dashboard. The risk to be seen while fucking you wild drives him mad, Honey. Be aware of this if he offers you a drive.

44. How often does he masturbate ?

As soon as he can, when or if he's not too exhausted. Though he might need a good time to help him fall asleep.

45. Favorite toy?

His.. Member. He's a proud man. Proud of the thickness and the length, and proud of how far it sends you every time.

46. Does he like roleplay?

Yes, God yes. You had dragged him down into this, and he discovered himself in a way he wouldn't have thought of.

47. Any fetishes?

Hair pulling. Oh Lord you better be ready when Joel's about to cum because his strong hands will grasp and pull your hair while his lips are on your mouth, groaning as he pounds furiously into you.. While being on you, or behind you..

48. Aftercare ?

Joel is a kind heart. So even after an exceptionally intense, savage moment with him, he would wait for your body to ease, for you to recover your breath, littering the sweaty skin of your neck with wet and sloppy kisses.

“You okay Babygirl ? Was it good ?”

49. Does he ever go comando ?

If he's alone only with you yes Honey he would, but you would have to be asked to be dressed the same as him, at least.

50. Phone sex?

Oh definitely if he is given some spare time to call you. He would firstly simply be sexting with you, but as time goes on and you get along with each other.. He would beg for you to scream his name on the phone and to not give a fuck about your neighbors. He wants (needs) to hear you crying and screaming to the world you are his.

"Say my name, Babygirl, scream it !"

~

Yes I was.. Inspired. He is to blame.. I really hope I got him right, feel free to tell me what you thought ! 🫶

Thank you so much for reading ! ✨

Tagging : @evolnoomym @thegreatwicked @crowandmousewritingco @the-mandawhor1an

Cressida had tells, like anyone else. Not even years of training could completely erase them; insecurities always ran deep. Anyone else looking at her would probably see a confident woman unaffected by the goings on around her. 

Not Obi-Wan.

Like all great deceptions, the truth was found in the tiniest things, starting from the ground up. Her feet were shoulder-width apart, creating a strong foundation that appeared unshakable. But as he focused in on her scuffed boots, he saw it: A rolling bump that disappeared and reappeared with no real pattern or timing. She was curling her toes. Like discovering a broken link in armor, he began seeing more signs that belied her anxiousness. 

Her hands seemed to rest at her sides, but there was an unnatural rigidity in her fingers that suggested anything but ease. They were locked into a position that only mimicked casualness, and it was her thumbs that gave it away. The way they tucked inward rubbing and tapping against her palms at odd repetitive intervals—a habit she hadn’t outgrown.

Then there was her breathing. The rise and fall of her chest was… off. There was a pause after each inhale. She was holding her breath, and each time she did, it took longer for her to exhale steadily. He wondered if she even knew she was doing it.

Everything about what he was looking at screamed of a facade held together by fraying threads. 

He shifted in his seat, redirecting his attention back at Mace, who had been speaking the whole time. Fortunately, Obi-Wan had something of a knack for keeping track of multiple conversations at once, so he hadn’t missed much.

“Sentinel Vox, we recognize that these past few weeks have no doubt been challenging for you and your son, filled with uncertainty and difficult questions. We regret that our decision regarding your son’s future has taken longer than expected. For that, you have this council’s apologies.”

Cressida gave a simple nod, her expression impassive, but once again her nerves were given away by another tell: a tick in her jaw. He didn’t blame her. Most individuals who found themselves standing before the High Council were not there for a positive reason. The Jedi were staunch with praise, and grand gestures were not really in line with the image of humble warrior monks they projected. If not praise or commendation, then the only other reason to be where Cressida stood was they were either waiting for a decision or, worse, to face consequences. 

The room felt charged, and the stillness was unbearable. He found himself gripping the armrests of his seat just a little too tightly in a vain attempt to steady his racing thoughts. His absence from the previous meetings meant that he was just in the dark as Cressida was, and it was awful.

“Now, to the matter at hand,” Mace said, with little in the way of emotion. “This has not been an easy decision. Council’s of the past would have denied your son’s admittance to the Order, for several reasons. His age is much older than what is deemed suitable for initiates, we lack the structure to accommodate him. And his attachment to you, his mother, presents challenges. These factors have given us reason for pause.” His voice carried his authoritative hard edge but he wasn’t unsympathetic and that hardness softened for his next query. “If the Council were to deny your son a place here at the temple, what exactly would your plan be?”

“We would leave,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Solan has a desire to learn and it’s his right. I would continue his training elsewhere to the best of my abilities.”

Obi-Wan’s pulse quickened. The idea of Solan and Cressida walking away from the Order just as he’d discovered their connection was just as devastating as Solan being refused a place there. 

“An understandable response.” Mace replied, it was difficult to make any sense of where his thoughts were. “The Clone Wars have weakened our ranks; with disasters like Geonosis still fresh in our minds, we cannot afford to lose even a single Jedi. We must be at all times vigilant and ready for the next threat. If the Order is to survive, we must adapt.”

Cressida stood perfectly still, but her thumbs pressed into her palms, and her breaths grew longer, more deliberate. Obi-Wan’s unease deepened at the sight. He hoped she wasn’t so nervous as to lock her knees, the last thing he wanted was to see her pass out, surely she had more sense than that.

“We have spoken with those who know you well, and confirmed what we can—” 

Was Mace drawing this out on purpose? Stars! Just get on with it! Obi-Wan was ready to rip his own hair out and he was fairly certain his fingerprints would be permanently seared into his armrests.

“—and with considerable and insistent input from Master Skywalker—” 

Obi-Wan shot a glance at Anakin, who offered a confident nod and his well-worn smirk. He felt his pulse racing, he hated this dreadful suspense. Things like this was exactly the reason he despised politics.

“—It is the decision of this Council that there is no reason that two such exemplary Jedi should not see their son granted the same opportunity as any other youngling.”

The air rushed from the room and though no one spoke or cheered, the atmosphere softened, as if everyone had been hoping for this outcome all along. The approval was more felt than seen, though the varied reactions of several Masters made it quietly clear.

Anakin made no effort to hide his delight. A wide grin split his face, and he sat up straighter, nodding along as if he had never doubted the outcome for a moment.

Master Yoda didn’t smile, but a quiet warmth radiated from him as his hand rested lightly on his walking stick, fingers curling just a little tighter.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi remained reserved, his expression neutral. As a strict adherent to the rules, if anyone were to push back, Obi-Wan expected it to be him. Yet there was no visible sign of objection.

Obi-Wan released his grip, his fingers had practically been sticking to the metal from perspiration. There was little change in Cressida’s posture aside from a controlled breath she blew out and an almost unnoticeable drop in her shoulders.

“Force-sensitive children have come to the Temple at all ages to hone their connection to the Force, and Solan Cael will be no exception. But,” Mace paused. 

And there it was, Obi-Wan thought, the inevitable caveat. 

“Just because a favorable outcome has been achieved does not mean the hard work is over. Solan’s path will be a difficult one. At this time, he has no formal training, and his abilities, while evident, remain largely unrefined. His training must be a tailored approach to ensure that he has every advantage and opportunity that can be afforded to him so that he might reach his full potential. That being said, we must speak on how exactly this arrangement will work.”

A surge of defensiveness rose in Obi-Wan at the mention of Solan’s lack of training— though he wasn’t sure if it was for Solan or Cressida’s sake. But deep down, he knew Mace wasn’t wrong. As it faded, it gave way to curiosity. He had to admit that he’d wondered himself how they might navigate such an unusual situation. Solan couldn’t be placed with a clan like other younglings, would he stay with his mother? Would they all cohabitate together?

“Solan will have to prove that he’s capable. Therefore, he will be required to pass the Initiate Trials just as any other youngling would.” 

Well, now, that wasn’t so unreasonable, and Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. It had been a while since the Trials had taken place, postponed by the needs of the war.

“Cressida, it is unreasonable to expect you to remove yourself from Solan’s life; such an abrupt change would cause more harm than good. Therefore, he will remain under your guardianship and stay with you. However, I want to make one thing clear–” He leaned forward, his finger raised in emphasis. “you are not, and will never be, your son’s Master.”

Her composed demeanor faltered for a fraction of a second, as if grappling with a change she hadn’t fully embraced. It was in that small retreat, that soft exhale, the beginning of a new distance forming between her and Solan. She offered Mace a singular nod in lieu of any words that might betray her feelings.

“As a Jedi and a mother, no role is of greater importance than the other, but your duties must remain a priority, and you will continue to serve the Council of First Knowledge, ” Mace continued. “You cannot be in two places at once and Solan will need more than your guidance alone as he steps into this new chapter. His training, his development, will require both strength and balance. You’ll need a partner in this—someone to support Solan in your absence, and you as well.” Mace paused, allowing the weight of his words to linger before his gaze shifted past her, landing on Obi-Wan. “Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan rose to his feet, surprised to find his legs steady beneath him. His hands found each other behind his back, the dampness of his palms hidden beneath the fabric of his robes. He stepped forward, positioning himself beside Cressida, acutely aware of the gap between them. Outwardly, he was composed—standing tall, shoulders squared—but beneath that facade, an uneasy tremor rippled through him. 

Mace looked from Cressida to Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan, no one would begrudge you if you chose to step away from this situation.” Cressida stiffened, her eyes darting around the room like a panicked creature seeking an escape. Was she honestly afraid of such a reaction? “One does not simply wake up one morning to a ten-year-old son and adapt to such a change overnight. But the Council hopes you will embrace this new role as any other. What say you?”

All eyes turned to Obi-Wan, and the quiet in the room felt fragile. He barely registered the stillness as he locked eyes with Mace and cleared his throat. Drawing on the poise that earned him the nickname ‘the Great Negotiator,’ he spoke with the confidence he hoped would reassure them both.

“There was a time during the chaos of war when I told Anakin that teaching is a privilege. While I never expected to find myself in such a position, I would be remiss to decline the chance to grow as both a Jedi and an individual.” Obi-Wan paused and drew in a deep breath so that his words were firm and steady. “I accept my duty and responsibility as Solan’s father, and I will, of course, offer my unwavering support to Cressida from this moment forward.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of emotion in Cressida’s expression—a blend of relief and quiet happiness. It was his first true acknowledgment of his role as Solan’s father. As if drawn by an invisible thread, she turned her head just slightly to meet his gaze. The corners of her lips tugged upward into a small smile.

Mace, seemingly pleased enough with the response, looked to the doors, and with a soft hiss, they slid open. Obi-Wan felt his breath hitch in his chest. He hadn’t seen his son since the first meeting three and a half weeks ago, and in that time, the boy had consumed his thoughts. Then suddenly, there he was.

Solan hesitated at the threshold, glancing between the imposing temple guards flanking the Council Chamber. They loomed like silent statues, their watchful eyes fixed on him. He moved slowly as he edged past them, his shoulders curling inward as if trying to make himself so small that they wouldn’t notice him. But such a thing was an impossibility; nothing escaped their vigilant gaze.

The moment he stepped beyond their reach, his pace quickened—not a run, not quite a jog, but the hurried movement of someone eager to escape the shadow of a dark corner. Obi-Wan didn’t blame him; he’d seen that same quiet nervousness in countless others. The guards simply had that effect.

Solan’s eyes found his mother, a sense of refuge seemed to wash over him. He didn’t break into a smile, but his shoulders dropped, and his gait relaxed as he approached. It was then that he finally registered Obi-Wan’s presence beside Cressida. 

Their gazes locked, and Obi-Wan found himself drawn into the most mesmerizing pair of eyes he’d ever seen. One glimmered a vivid oceanic blue, reminiscent of his own, while the other softened in a soft grey that mirrored the clouds in his mother’s eyes—so different yet so closely related, creating a unique harmony that was both striking and beautiful.

Solan’s posture tensed again, and his steps slowed so much that it reminded Obi-Wan of a cat assessing something unfamiliar and dangerous in its path. The way their bodies slunk closer to the ground, they never took their eyes off the possible predator, and they moved cautiously. That was how Solan was looking at him.

It was different between them now. 

Now that they both knew the truth, the resemblance between them stood out more than ever. The subtle details he hadn’t noticed before, sharper and more clear. Solan’s hair was worn a little longer than Obi-Wans but undeniably similar in texture and color. Anakin’s voice echoed in his mind; ‘he definitely has your nose’—and indeed, Obi-Wan saw it now. That familiar narrow curve, though Solan’s lacked the small bump on the bridge that Obi-Wan had from a long healed break. It was hard to tell but it looked like Solan even had a small cleft in his chin like Obi-Wan.

It was something of an awkward standoff, to say the least, so Obi-Wan did the only thing he could do—he smiled at Solan. Its effect was almost instantaneous, and the boy’s lips curled into a smile in return as he came to stand by Cressida’s side. His shoulders straightened, his chin lifted, as he mimicked his mother’s steady, composed mannerisms—like he’d watched her and learned to stand tall when it mattered most.

But like his mother, his attempts at an outwardly calm facade were not without their flaws; the boy’s fingers fidgeted subtly behind his back. And Obi-Wan caught the telltale curl of his toes in his boots—the same sign of nerves that Cressida herself betrayed when she was uneasy.

Solan was nervous, too.

“How are you, Solan?” Mace asked, his posture relaxing as he leaned forward elbows on his legs, putting Solan at ease, though whether he did it on purpose or was unconsciously was anyone’s guess. The Jedi Master could make grown men of many species and walks of life feel small, yet children seemed unbothered by his presence.

Solan shifted slightly as he looked around and shrugged. “I’ve been really bored, Master Windu," he confessed, his frankness causing a round of chuckles and amusement from the Council, Mace included. "It’s hard being patient, but Mom says I need to have grace and trust the Council because you only have my best interests at heart. I’m still really bored, though. I really want to start training.”

Mace nodded, perhaps remembering what it was to be so young and full of energy with nothing to do. "Your mother speaks from a place of wisdom, Solan. Patience is indeed a virtue for any Jedi. Though I admit, it is no small task for someone your age, especially given your circumstances. And I know it’s been difficult, and I apologize for keeping you waiting so long.”

“It’s ok, I understand.”

Obi-Wan and Mace shared a look of surprise. “You understand?” Mace echoed.

Solan rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes several times. “I’m not a normal youngling," he said, glancing at his mother. "My path… won’t be the same as others, no matter what the Council decides.”

There was a resignation in the way Solan spoke, like he had already made peace with the possibility that he might not have a place within the Temple walls. Obi-Wan flexed his hand; he struggled with the desire to reach out to place a reassuring hand on Solan’s shoulder, but he held back. Somehow it didn’t feel like it was his place to comfort him, not yet.

“So you understand why the Council had to take its time in our deliberations?” Mace asked.

Solan nodded, “Mom says the biggest decisions in life boil down to doing what’s right versus what’s easy, and sometimes it’s hard for people to know which is which.” 

“What is right and what is easy…” Mace mused, nodding along with an admiration that very few were privy to. “What do you feel is the right course of action?”

Solan shrugged. “I dunno, Master Windu. I’ve thought about it a lot. What I would do if the Council decided I couldn’t be a Jedi, and I’m not really sure what I would do.” The brightness in his eyes dimmed a bit, and he looked up at his mother before continuing. “Mom says if the answer is no, then she’ll teach me herself, but I think it would be better for me to learn and grow with people like me.” Solan looked back at Mace and huffed out a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure what the right decision is, Master Windu, but we still have to make one.”

Mace straightened, his eyebrows arching in surprise. Obi-Wan looked down at Solan with a grin, pride swelling in his chest as he marveled at the boy’s maturity, struggling to reconcile the ten-year-old before him with the sage-like wisdom that flowed from his lips.

"You speak with an insight beyond your years, Solan." Mace’s index finger tapped on his armrest several times in contemplation. "Tell me, Solan, do you still wish to become a Jedi?"

"I’m ready to try, Master Windu."

“Try?” Mace echoed, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Solan shrugged again, biting the inside of his cheek before speaking. “Just because I have visions of futures that could be, doesn’t mean I know what’s going to happen for sure. But I do know that if I don’t try, then nothing will happen.”

This brought a full-fledged smile to Mace’s face, and a chuckle rumbled in his chest. It was hard not to be moved by Solan’s optimism.

“I understand you are quite fond of stories, Solan.” Solan nodded, and there was a little bounce of excitement in his toes. “Then I have one I think you’ll enjoy. This Council once saw another young boy like yourself standing before us many years back. He, too, was naturally very gifted with the force, and many saw great potential in him,” He looked past Solan for a moment before returning to the story. “Some hesitated to see him begin training because, like you, he too came from outside our Temple walls. He was very close to his mother. His life had not been easy—he had been born a slave— and some feared the consequences of training him."

Solan looked from Mace to his mother and back as if seeking confirmation that she, too, was hearing the same thing he was. She smiled and nodded forward back to Master Windu, gesturing for him to listen.

“He was deemed too old to start training, lacking the formal instruction typical of younger initiates. Known for his impulsive nature, he made no effort to conceal his feelings, which further set him apart from others. The Jedi who brought him before the Council was a wise man, and was deeply convinced of the boy's potential. But he had a penchant for interpreting things in his own way, which led to disagreements with the Council. Yet he believed the boy had a greater purpose than simply podracing in the desert. When this Master died, the boy’s fate was uncertain, he was directionless and vulnerable and some thought it might be best to return him to his mother in the desert.”

Solan’s fingers twitched with anticipation. His toes were permanently curled in his boots. He leaned forward as Mace spoke, hanging on every word.

“But there was one who was resolute that he should be trained. He was determined to see the boy as a Jedi, no matter the obstacles. Under this Jedi’s tutelage the boy grew to be a wise, compassionate Jedi Master. A brave and cunning warrior. Today he sits among this council, and it was your father who trained him.”

Solan's mouth was now hanging completely open, and he looked to Obi-Wan; Obi-Wan looked as humble as any could, bowing his head. He was grateful for his beard because he was fairly certain he felt the warmth of a blush creeping up his ears. Whether it was from the praise, the way Solan looked at him with awe, or the fact that Cressida was looking at him too was anyone’s guess. Obi-Wan turned and looked behind him, and Solan followed his father’s line of sight to where Anakin Skywalker sat proudly. He offered a nod to Obi-Wan and a roguish wink to Solan.

With a mix of admiration and excitement coursing through him, Solan looked back at Obi-Wan, unable to contain his wonder. 

“It wasn’t an easy journey for Master Skywalker. He proved himself through his dedication and his actions.” Mace paused, casting a glance at Anakin, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. “He proved this Council wrong.”

Obi-Wan felt a warmth spread through him as he recalled his and Anakin’s triumphs and struggles. It was gratifying to be vindicated in such a way; Anakin certainly deserved his moment in the sun and Obi-Wan was proud of the man his Padawan had grown into. As he looked at Solan, he could see a similar future taking shape.

“You mentioned when we first met that you worried for your mother’s well-being due to the circumstances of your birth.” Solan’s smile fell and he grabbed his mother’s hand tightly positioning himself more firmly in front of her, a small but determined shield. Mace held up a pacifying hand. “I promised you then that no punishment would fall on your mother, and I mean to keep my word. She did nothing wrong, nor did your father, and most certainly neither have you. Your mother will face no consequences. Her strength and dedication to your well-being is to be admired.”

Solan smiled at Mace and blew out a breath of relief. “We find ourselves in unique times, and as the galaxy changes, the Jedi must adapt. Therefore, it is the decision of this Council that you be permitted to begin training as a Jedi immediately under the supervision of your parents.”

Solan's face split into a wide smile as he took in Mace's words, still clutching his mother’s hand and shaking it with happiness. He looked back and smiled at her brightly before looking at Obi-Wan with the same excitement, all but hopping up and down like a grasshopper. The Council members remained largely unresponsive but several members smiled with Solan.

"When your parents believe you are ready, you will undertake the Initiate Trials. These trials will test your skills, your character, and your connection to the Force. Should you pass, you will be eligible for a Jedi to take you as their Padawan."

The air around Solan felt as though it was vibrating, and he nodded along with Mace’s words, overwhelmed into a sort of speechlessness. 

"But know this, young one—the path of a Jedi is not easy. Yours will be harder than most. You will need to train twice as hard, remain steadfast, and avoid giving in to fear or anger. Are you prepared for this challenge?"

“Yes! I am! I’m ready! When do we start? Can we start now?” Solan asked eagerly, his answers and questions all tumbling out in one long sentence.  

Mace tried to keep a straight face but it was proving difficult with Solan’s enthusiasm.“There may be times you will want to give up. Your journey will demand great strength and resilience from you. You have your parents to guide you, and the Council has faith in you." 

Solan straightened his back and his arms snapped to his sides. "I won't let you down, I promise!” 

Mace nodded approvingly. "Very well, Solan Cael. Good luck.” The relief in the room was palpable, but there was one more thing to be addressed. The Wampa in the room. “There remains one final matter to address before we conclude.” 

Obi-Wan shifted his stance, glancing briefly at Cressida and to his surprise she was looking back at him. He wanted to take a step closer to her but he wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or hers so he chose to stay where he was. What good was a pillar of strength if it swayed?

“Regarding the relationship between Master Kenobi and Cressida Vox.” Mace looked back and forth between Obi-Wan and Cressida as if assessing for something. “We cannot ignore the potential risks of attachments in complicated dynamics such as these, as they have long been a point of concern within the order. However, it’s also true that the Force often moves in ways we don’t expect. There are always paths forward. Master Skywalker has shown us that it’s possible to overcome such struggles when the stakes are high.”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to look back at Anakin.

“The Jedi Code does not forbid emotions, but it demands discipline over them. We do not pass judgment on how you choose to spend your time or how you approach your responsibilities regarding your son. Nor do we question the bond you both share as parents. What matters most now is your ability to work together for Solan’s benefit. To do this you must communicate and put whatever differences or indifferences you have aside. There is no reason to believe that both of you cannot navigate this challenge. We expect nothing less. ” 

He paused, his gaze now focusing on Solan. “Change is an inevitable part of life, and only through adaptation can the Jedi Order endure for another thousand years. In times of great upheaval, it is not weakness to seek guidance when needed. No one expects you to face this alone. The Council remains a resource, should either of you find yourselves uncertain.” There was an unmistakable message beneath his words—a reminder that they would be watched carefully, but also that they had the Council’s trust. “We wish you three success in this endeavor. May the Force be with you. The Council’s business of this matter is concluded until further notice.”

As the Council members began to rise, the formality of the moment ended. The room shifted from solemn to something warmer, more human. Solan, unable to contain himself any longer, threw his arms around his mother, his excitement bubbling over in unrestrained laughter. Cressida staggered back a step, momentarily thrown back by the small force of their son, before wrapping him in a tight embrace. A radiant smile lit up her face—one that Obi-Wan hadn’t seen since… well, since a long time ago.

“What did I tell you, Starlight? Nothing to worry about.” She said, a far gentle version of ‘I told you so.’ 

“You were right mom! Now we can stay! I can’t believe it! I’m gonna be a Jedi!”

“All in due time, Solan. First things first,” The sight of it should have filled him with relief. With joy. But instead, a heavy weight settled in his chest as Solan's jumping calmed and Cressida looked him in the eye. "We should talk." 

It was the first time she spoke to him, truly spoke to him. Solan stood beside them, brimming with happiness about the next chapter in his life about to unfold and the people he would spend it with.

The feeling of dread crept in, the same dread he had felt since the Council had first broached this matter. Their past—unresolved, complicated—could not simply be set aside.

“Yes, of course.” He replied with a tightness in his words. 

He hadn’t known the decision of the Council until just now, but somehow, even if he did, he wasn’t sure it would have prepared for the moment. Now, it was upon him, time to discuss how this would work. He suddenly felt very ill-equipped for this conversation. Heat rose up in his chest, he felt his palms growing sweaty, he needed a way out. He needed space to breathe, to think. 

"–Unfortunately, it will have to wait just a bit longer, I’m afraid. I have some matters I need to attend to first." 

"Later then." Cressida agreed with an empty nod.

Obi-Wan placed a hand on Solan's shoulder, trying to comfort him, but the gesture felt somewhat robotic and distant. Solan managed to muster a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Obi-Wan was quick to excuse himself, his robes billowing behind him with each step. Leaving Cressida and Solan standing there in the empty chamber; the air of excitement gone. Solan looked utterly crestfallen as if the balloon of happiness in his chest had deflated. 

"I'm sorry, Solan," Cressida said, brushing the hair out of his face.

“It's okay, Mom. I just thought that maybe he–” Solan shook his head and looked at the ground. “Never mind." His voice trailed off, but the disappointment lingered. "Can we go for a run?"

"Of course."

Master Kenobi wasn’t one to avoid challenges; he faced them head-on, armed with fearlessness and a wit sharp enough to put any blade to shame. But in the days following the latest council meeting Obi-Wan had become unusually elusive. For those who knew him well, this was most certainly out of character. 

So what was different now?

Everything.

This wasn’t like anything he’d ever faced before. There were no battles to fight, no enemies to confront, in fact, there wasn’t even an enemy—only a ten-year-old boy and a conversation that was just as long in the making.

How was he even supposed to begin? Where was he supposed to begin? What could he say to Cressida? What would she say to him? He couldn’t imagine she’d be terribly happy with him after avoiding this for several days, his excuses to put this meeting off were shallow and transparent, at best. It wasn’t as if there was a war out there to win. He never thought he’d miss the chaos of battle… 

He had a bit to explain and even more to make up for, of that much he was certain. He paused mid-step as a rather obscure thought entered his mind: Would she be angry with him for getting her pregnant in the first place? Though that wasn’t entirely his fault. Not that Solan was a negative consequence by any means, but it certainly took two to waltz, didn’t it?

Cressida would have taken precautions, wouldn’t she? Some sort of contraception? He was, admittedly, a bit ignorant on the subject. Though, it wasn’t as though he had asked… He had been preoccupied with… other things. Like the warmth of her skin against his. The taste of her lips. The way she whispered his name and trembled at his touch—

Stars.

How did he get himself into this mess? He was smarter than this—at least, he thought he was. 

Would she be angry with him? He shuddered at the thought. He’d never been on the receiving end of Cressida’s temper; few people had. But if it was anything like he suspected, he might need to brace himself for a storm colder than the ice caves of Ilum.

He continued trying to navigate the labyrinth of thoughts in his head. At multiple points, he’d even taken notes—bullet points about things he wanted to discuss or questions he had. But in the end, he’d scrapped them all, realizing there was no real way to prepare for this conversation. It would have to begin by acknowledging that night.

How could they move forward without addressing it?

He didn’t know, but eventually Obi-Wan found himself walking through the halls toward one of the lecture rooms where younglings gathered for their lessons. His mind had been so preoccupied with the upcoming conversation that he barely registered his surroundings until it hit him all at once—he had arrived.

Stepping into the room, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The familiar tapestries lined the walls, the ancient scrolls, the worn mats on the floors and the subtle scent of incense lingered in the air mixed with the aroma of… something else. Something foreign and sterile. He shook his head, perhaps the cleaning droids had just come through.

Fuzzy memories of his own time as a youngling flooded his mind—countless hours had been spent here. A low-powered training saber in his hands, honing his skills under the watchful gaze of Jedi Masters. There had always been comfort in the routine back then, a simplicity to those early lessons. 

But nothing was simple anymore. Oh well, simplicity was for cowards, time to rip the bacta patch off.

In the center of the room, Cressida  was waiting with her back to him, fixating on something in her hands. For a moment, his nerves flared. They hadn’t been alone together in any fashion since that night. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last words they’d spoken, outside of that instance.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

As he stepped closer, Obi-Wan’s eyes fell on the object that had captured Cressida’s attention. She was holding a small metal object—one of the simple devices used to teach younglings basic control over the Force. A miniature speeder, designed to hover and move with the guidance of a child’s thoughts. It was such a small thing, yet so pivotal in their lives and he smiled when he saw it. He remembered the struggle well: the hours spent trying to move it even an inch, the frustration, all over something so seemingly insignificant but so monumental to a youngling’s progress.

The little speeder floated in Cressida’s palm, lazily making circles in the air. There was something so endearing about the sight. A Jedi Knight—playing with the very same device that had once reduced them both to tears.

And just like that, all the tension he had carried with him, the nerves that had knotted his stomach for days, seemed to melt away. In that moment, she wasn’t the woman whose anger he feared, or the mother of a son he’d never expected to have —she was simply Cressida. The person who, once upon a time, had been his safe place. 

Warm. Steady. Familiar.

"It's been a while since I've seen one of these." She said, turning the little speeder over in her hands like she was making a study of it. 

He clasped his hands firmly behind his back as was his habit when he didn’t know what to do with them.

"Indeed. It feels like a lifetime ago since we were younglings learning the ways of the Force in this very room. Nervous, excited, afraid." He wasn't sure if he was talking about the past or their present, though, he supposed it didn't matter. The emotions were still very much the same.

Cressida chuckled softly, her fingers gently tracing the contours of the speeder. "I made something like this for Solan once."

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asked.

She nodded, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “Clay was hard to come by; the planet was too dry, and we couldn't spare the water. But I managed to gather some runoff from one of the factories to make it. It turned out hard and brittle, staining my hands a bright orange for a week. It took hours, and to be honest, my skills were rather lacking.” She let out a laugh, a mix of breath and amusement. “The first time he tried to make it fly, it smashed right into a wall and shattered to pieces. He was three.”

The image of Solan’s cheeks stained in tears, so distraught over such a simple mishap, tugged at Obi-Wan's heart. He could just see Solan holding up the broken pieces for Cressida to fix sniffling in despair, and what she described–down to her Togruta-like orange hands. It made him smile. 

“Poor babe cried rivers. It took me ages to console him. I promised we’d make another one together and try again.”

He looked at the ground, he wasn’t sure why. She was doing it again, curling her toes within her boots. 

”May I?" he asked, holding out his hand expectantly. Cressida held the speeder out to him, and he felt a surge of excitement. Focusing his thoughts, the speeder lifted, hovering a few inches above their hands. It moved gently, responding to his guidance. “This room has seen many dramatic chases and desperately heroic dogfights.”

He remembered how heavy the little speeder had felt when all he could use to lift it was his mind; at the time, it seemed as impossible as raising a life-sized starship. It took a little bit to master the art of miniature flight and it wasn’t without its trials. He wondered if Solan was like him and if, in frustration after several failed attempts, he had ever hurled a toy at the ground in a fit of anger.

"Back when we all wanted to be fighter pilots and the galaxy seemed so large." Her insinuation that the galaxy was in fact, not so large, was comical. If anything the galaxy was larger now than it had been then. 

“Did it take him very long to become proficient?”

“About four days. More than a few ships met rather destructive ends when they crashed into the floor,” She chuckled. “He hurled one at the ground when he got frustrated, but in his defense, he was quite tired. Little boys get rather cranky when they need a nap.”

Well, that answered that question. 

”Once a nap was had though, he took to it quite well and we soon had a whole fleet of clay starships.” Obi-Wan could see it now; bright orange Destroyers, Assault ships, Gunships and Starfighters. What little boy didn’t love playing with ships and going on grand adventures? A quiet moment enveloped them, their thoughts drawing closer until it felt as if they almost touched. “He gets it from you, Obi-Wan. The ability to connect with the Force so effortlessly.”

Her words stirred a mix of emotions within him as the little speeder hovered between them. The warmth of the complement wrapped around him, filling the space with an ease he hadn’t felt in ages.

“I apologize for putting this off,” he began, the need to acknowledge his actions bubbling to the surface.

Cressida waved it off.. “No need to apologize. You have many responsibilities as a Council member. Solan understands, too.” 

Her compassion was almost unbearable. She was being far too kind for his comfort—far too understanding. He had expected her to be upset, but instead, she seemed surprisingly accommodating. While he was grateful for her kindness, it felt like it was time to address the Wampa in the room: them.

Their connection dated back to when they were nearly Solan's age—bright-eyed and eager Padawans. Years of friendship, shared histories involving their Masters, and the heartache they both endured after losing their mentors had woven an intricate tapestry of familiarity between them. And then one night it all changed.

The memory was etched into his mind with a clarity that transcended time. Back then, he had been a young, newly knighted Jedi, suddenly overwhelmed by the responsibility of training a prodigious young Anakin Skywalker—a boy the same age as his son was now. 

He had felt lost, sitting in his Master’s old quarters draped in Qui-Gon’s oversized robe, adrift in a sea of sorrow. So heavy with despair and hopelessness, but then, she had appeared. Despite having had no word from her in two years she pulled him from the depths of his heartache.

Their conversation had shifted from shared laughter over old stories, to shared disgust over the strange root stew Qui-Gon favoredm. Then, in a blink, Cressida had found her way into his arms, clinging to him as he had clung to her.

Her touch had been a balm against his wounded heart, a soothing salve for his pain. It had been a night of a hundred kisses—some hungry, some sad, some wildly passionate—each one imbued with need and longing. Cressida’s understanding of the pain of losing a Master had forged an unbreakable bond between them. For those precious hours, he had experienced a wholeness, a sense of being desired and needed like never before. It had been wonderful and overwhelming at the same time. They had fallen asleep, naked and exhausted in one another's arms, safe and warm.

For a brief moment, the world around them faded, and it felt as if time had stretched into eternity. But morning arrived too soon, and with it, she slipped away. Leaving behind only a lingering warmth and a memory that, somehow in the subsequent years, he managed to forget entirely.

Snapping out of his reverie, Obi-Wan returned to the present, where Cressida was maneuvering the speeder through intricate loops in the air. He didn’t even realize she called the speeder back to her. Performing acrobatics that none of them, as younglings, could have ever dreamed of achieving. He watched the speeder make a series of figure eights and then a barrel roll before hovering back over her palm. He could properly see her now that he wasn’t actively avoiding her. Time had etched its marks, yet her beauty remained as captivating as it had been when he last saw her.

Her eyes still possessed a mesmerizing quality, her smile could illuminate even the darkest corners of the galaxy. However, her smiles had become rarer, less vibrant than they had been before the loss of her Master. They never quite regained their full brilliance.

"Cressidal, I know that–”

She turned to face him so sharply that it startled him, the speeder falling to her hand like the engines had lost propulsion. Her fingers closed around it, grounding the little ship.

"–Solan struggles with communicating when he's frustrated." She cut in a little too quick. Was that a tremor in her voice? “The more he struggles, the less he talks,” 

He could see the quick shift in her eyes as she focused intently on Solan’s training as if this was the only thing that mattered now. For the briefest moment, he wondered—was she as uncertain, as fearful of this conversation as he was?

“It’s important to keep encouraging him, especially when he retreats inward. He’s eager to impress you, more than you know. And that means he’s going to push himself too hard, overextend, become overly emotional, and make mistakes that he normally wouldn’t. It's not because he isn't disciplined or that he lacks focus. Far from it, when he sets his mind to something, he won’t rest until he perfects his craft or he slips into exhaustion, you have to all but drag him away from what he's doing. He can be a very stubborn boy.”

Where might he have gotten that trait from? 

He pushed the joke aside, now wasn’t the time. This was serious. For a moment, he considered interrupting her. He’d intended to start with the beginning but perhaps that was too difficult for her, he certainly understood that. It wasn’t as if he knew what he had hoped to say about it anyway, or what could even be said after so long. Still, something about her avoidance gnawed at him.

Like something shimmering just out of sight, an absurdly self-conscious thought crossed his mind. What if she looked back on that night with regret or, worse, indifference? What if it hadn’t been as good for her as it had been for him? The idea struck him like a bolt out of nowhere, and the mild panic it stirred made him inwardly cringe. An odd thing for him to focus on right now…

Pay attention, Obi-Wan! He chastised himself as Cressida’s voice pulled him back.

“His meditation skills are strong—one of the few things we’ve been able to focus on extensively. He leans on it whenever he feels overwhelmed. It’s how he pulls himself back together after a difficult day, and I’ve found it helps him regulate his more… unique abilities.”

Of course. Solan had unique abilities, as he had demonstrated that day in the council chamber, and he’d been brimming with questions at the time. 

“Yes, you mentioned something during the council meeting about dreams,” he said, eager to shift his mind to practical matters that he understood. “When did that start?”

Cressida nodded. “Yes. The dreams started when he was about six, and they’ve been unpredictable and intense but a fairly uncommon occurrence.” A critical look came over their face as the depths of her eyes darkened with shame, “At first, I dismissed them as simple bad dreams and a little boy’s imagination— I was wrong.” She looked disappointed with herself.

“You couldn’t have known-”

“–But I should have. How could they be only dreams with parents like us? Either way, it’s no excuse.” She cleared her throat and continued, “When he was nine, he started getting them when he was awake. Sometimes they’re visions, but more often, they’re fragmented and difficult to make sense of. When they’re especially vivid, they can leave him with headaches or feeling drained for hours after. His psychometry is more reliable, but since it’s tied to his emotions when he’s struggling and anxious, the simplest object can reach through to him. There have been times he’s picked up something as simple as a rock and immediately become overwhelmed, thrown up, and passed out, among other things. I’ve tried to help him manage them, but admittedly, I’m no expert, and I wasn’t able to do much to—”

“I have no doubts you did everything in your power to help him. Jedi with visions don’t grow out of them, they grow into them.” Obi-Wan insisted.

She paused for a moment, nodding appreciatively. "And there are gaps in his training, of course. We haven’t had the most consistent environment... but where there are holes, you’ll find he’s also quite adept at certain things for his age.” 

Cressida's face lit up with a slight smile when she spoke about Solan's excitement for lightsaber combat. Obi-Wan was surprised to learn that Solan was familiar with all seven forms of lightsaber combat, though he was far from mastering any. 

“It was all theoretical, of course. Lightsaber training was something we couldn’t really practice, so he’s eager to begin that. He’s very calculated and I think he has a disposition for form three-“

“Soresu?”

“Your specialty.” She confirmed. “When he’s comfortable, when he feels safe, he’s a quick learner. He just needs to know you’re there to help, not to judge him.”

“I would never presume to judge him—or you–”

"–Personal stories help him focus," Cressida added, cutting him off once again. What was this wall she was putting up? "He responds well to relatable experiences, especially when they’re relevant to what he’s trying to learn. It gives him a sense of connection and purpose but he can also get a little too wrapped up in stories and adventures so you’ll have to keep him on track."

Right, stories as teaching tools but don’t let him get carried away. Anakin hadn’t been so different. He filed away each detail she gave him; it would all be crucial to Solan’s training, but that was something Obi-Wan had already learned well with Anakin.

And like Anakin, It was clear that, despite the patchwork nature of his training, his son had immense potential. Cressida had done more than he could have expected and he’d been unprepared for the depth of information she was relaying to him. It all came so fast.

She talked with her hands and paced enough so that Obi-Wan was constantly turning to face her or to keep up with her, it felt like they made laps around the room. Each movement and gesture was fluid and animated, drawing him into her words. Occasionally, her speech would slow as if she were trying to remember something crucial, she’d snap her fingers trying to summon the thought before deciding to abandon it and move on. Other times, she would stare off into the horizon leaving Obi-Wan curious as to what caught her attention before she’d pick right back up again. Each word was like a thread, stitching together a tapestry of wisdom and it was all so much to take in but parts of it reminded him of his early days with Anakin. It left him almost feeling a bit dizzy.

A nagging thought lingered at the back of his mind, something screaming to be remembered. But it was drowned out until like sand slipping through his fingers. 

As the conversation drew to a close, they had sorted out the basics of how things would proceed, times to meet, topics to discuss and a general understanding of how to work together. There would obviously room for improvements to be made, but some things could only be discovered through experience. Though he wished he’d brought a data pad with him, no matter, he would remember. He hoped. 

“This has been most instructive. I appreciate your help with all of this," Obi-Wan said, trying to convey his gratitude as he looked to the little speeder which obediently returned back to his outstretched hand.

He had missed so much in his son's life and how he approached training would be almost as important as the training itself. For the first time, he felt ready. 

“Tell me, what kind of pilot is our son?” He asked curiously as he held the toy in his hand. Making it fly by swinging it around in the air without the use of the Force.

Yet, no response came. He turned around, only to find that Cressida had vanished, her presence fleeting as a passing breeze. The warmth instantly vanished, and Obi-Wan’s chest fell as he stood alone in the training room, clutching the toy and grappling with the weight of a bittersweet memory.

Chapter Six