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crispyjenkins · 3 months ago

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@catamaranthenonnewtonianfluid

#every installment of this bops#if quin disappears after Obi-Wan nukes his identity i imagine that at least a couple jedi will realise where quinlan is headed#and having another padawan vamoose to mandalore (and with how concerning obi's whole *everything* has been) i imagine someone might go#after him which obvious one is tholme but if youre looking for a way to sneak lumi in maybe quin#successfully caused enough of a distraction that his disappearance isnt noted for a couple days#and luminara is on mission closer to mandalore when the realisation hits#maybe maybe?#vhonte being on side for the next chaos run (from everyone else's perspective) is very good that will be fun#she probably needs enrichment right#obi is the meat filled pumpkin they needed

vhonte vhonte vhonte vhonte vhonte vh

alright i'm good. we'll come back to vhonte in a minute tho

so as i said in the comments of this post, your tags inspired me to tiptap out a lil scene that wasn't really like. intended to end up in the final story, but it would have been okay if it did, and now it's sort of become a cornerstone of where the fic might end up. because y'all are enabling me on the Luminara front and my brain was on that world building kick after differentiating the Manda vs ka'ra vs Ka'ra, i then started world building the Unifying vs Cosmic vs Physical vs Living Force and decided Luminara gets to be a Lil Special, which incidentally helps keep Obi from being too OP, altho i love time travel as an excuse for OPness

so so so so. i mentioned in tags ages ago that Obi-Wan's crèchemates can feel something different from their Force bonds with him after he time hops. for this story, his crèche clanmates are Bant, Garen, Reeft, Bruck, Aalto, and four others that won't have enough bearing on the plot to name. and i like the idea of there being some variety of age in clans, because i sincerely think the Jedi would embrace the importance of learning from many different ages early, not just later in their training; "the padawan teaches the master" and all that. not too much variety, of course, since that would be detrimental to some aspects of learning. i will say i'm not big on some legends canon saying they put kids in clans based on like. their tendencies for certain aspects of learning, like heliost clan being for those with "deep insight", or kids put in katarn for being "stealthy". that just smacks of h*gwarts houses and i HATE the implication of predetermining a child's interests and strong suits.

BUT that's beside the point. I've decided Obi's clan was the Kamoradon or Saberjowl clan, partly because it's close to catamaran and is an aquatic creature, and also because it's from Kamino for ~Force shenanigans~ and ~destiny~ reasons. I love the head(?)canon that Quinlan is a few years older, so isn't even technically their agemate, but he's often grouped with them 'cause he's so close to all the Saberjowl initiates that ended up on the knighthood track (Bruck, of course, died, and I have Aalto as well as their other clanmates moving on to various corps instead. except maybe one of them? that doesn't stay close with the other Saberjowls. no bad blood or anything, just didn't reaffirm those Force bonds after they all went their separate ways for padawanship), and it's often forgotten that Quinlan isn't one of their old clanmates, especially because he isn't close with the clan he was inserted into since he came to the crèche so late and didn't stay for long. and he also often acts younger than he is.

for the purposes of this fic, Jedi (and Force users in general) typically find themselves "aligned" with one of the four different... facets of the Force. it's partly philosophy, and partly just what part of the Force they draw most strongly from. i've already made my opinions on h*gwarts houses clear, so this "alignment" is far more like Naruto's elemental chakra affinities: you can learn jutsu from those other elements, and even do them well, but they'll never be as easy to master or perform as your natural affinity. the way these different facets of the Force work in canon seem to be more philosophy-based, as in they're different ways of viewing the Force, but that doesn't hold up across even Lucas canon, so i'm taking it all and running with it

so, quickly:

Living Force = the parts of the Force that connect all living things, both sentient and not; "an all-encompassing and all-transcending energy field—present in and generated by all living beings, connecting all of life which fed into the Cosmic Force in death" (wookieepedia); Living Force users focus on the present, relying on instincts more than thinking; from my understanding, is directly related to and caused by midichlorians.

Cosmic = a "wellspring" for the Living Force, binding all things together in tandem with the Living, transcending space and time and dealing with "destiny"; connected to but not the same as the Living Force; this is what Jedi and Force users "listen to" in order to follow its "Will", sometimes viewed as semi-sentient; is what connects to the midichlorians??

Unifying = energy connecting everything non-living, such as stars and space; users focus on the future and prescience, on ensuring the Force's Will in the future, rather than the present like those of the Living Force; are focused on the flow of time as a whole rather than the immediate moment; from a theological standpoint, many that followed the Unifying often believed in there not being a Light and a Dark side (though I'm unclear just on who these "many" are, as they seem to be mainly in EU novels). this last aspect won't be dealth with in this fic.

Physical = the parts of the Force a user can manipulate directly, such as "manipulating objects, influencing other beings, and affecting the environment" (wookieepedia).

reiterating: all Force-sensitive beings can use any and/or all facets of the Force, and indeed do, but are naturally inclined to one of them, or can build a philosophy to one that makes it their primary.

how the philosophy aspect comes into play for this and future works of mine is how one's views affect their connection to the Force, and how some philosophies and views have fallen out of favour, in this case the Unifying and the Cosmic (due to lots of reasons, but mainly the spreading Darkside affecting the connection to the Unifying and Cosmic Forces, which we do actually see in canon with prescience being directly affected by the Sith's spreading influence). since the Cosmic is seen in tandem with the Living, I like to think most Jedi at this point in the timeline (c. 41 BBY) don't view them as separate facets to have a strength in, so really see the options as being stronger in the Living or Physical Forces, with the Unifying Force being a tool or area of study that gets some eye-rolls when brought into discussions. there are of course the very rare Jedi being stronger in the Unifying, but they are encouraged to make that a secondary focus at best and to pick the Living or the Physical. what does that mean for this fic??

obviously Sifo-Dyas' natural inclination is the Unifying, and he's a stubborn bastard who dug his feet in and never let the more common dogmas of the Temple make him focus on the Living or Physical (this is not a condemnation of the Order, btw; but we canonically [in EU and legends] see those who subscribe to more esoteric or less understood philosophies treated less than favourably by the Order at large). Jedi like Yoda (and those like Palpatine, canonically) use the philosophies of the Unifying more as a supplemental tool; I headcanon Yoda as aligned to the Physical Force, and that absolutely affects how he uses and views the Unifying and Cosmic Forces, such as his belief in destiny but maintaining the adage "always in motion, the future is". hmm many basically listen to the Cosmic Force about destiny and what the Will of the Force is, but then discredit those that go about it differently? tell those strong in the Unifying to not worry too much about the big picture in terms of time, but expect them to look at the big picture immediately around them? not everyone, obviously, but when the grandmaster is so firm in his ways of looking at the universe and the Force, well ¯\(°ᴥ°)/¯ the Jedi aren't perfect, as a whole or as individuals, and make mistakes. this reluctance to embrace all facets of the Force as equal is one of them, at least for my works

Obi-Wan is obviously also Unifying-aligned, and while at this point Qui-Gon is doing much better in understanding it as a physical difference in how they interact with the Force from each other, not just Obi-Wan's personal philosophies and anxieties, much of that damage is already done, especially with Yoda's influence. Obi-Wan did grow out of his clearer and more intense visions, but I haven't decided if that's directly at influence of the Sith, or just a natural consequence of learning to shield as Jedi do, or even just a normal part of growing up. he is, however, still repressing, so to speak, and channeling the Living Force which is not half as easy as channelling the Unifying would be for him. in this 'verse, future Obi would eventually learn better, ironically in large part due to his picking up of Soresu, which greatly improves with some level of prescience and using said prescience in battle.

okay okay all of that was so I get to talk about Luminara being a rare Jedi naturally aligned to the Cosmic Force. in the broader Temple, like with the Unifying, the Cosmic is seen as a skill or tool, one that every Jedi is supposed to have some skill with, but is not really seen as something one can be strong in or naturally aligned with, not a facet unto itself but as an aspect of the Living Force. some Jedi pursue a deeper connection to it, but aren't allowed to until after knighthood, largely because there's a worry of one falling (not Falling) too deep into the Force and losing themselves. There is some precedent for this, in my fanon, because i think the idea of Force Ghosts initially happening by accident is hilarious; then people learned to do it on purpose, like Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and Yoda and Anakin, etc., but the first Force users that managed it just got too deep into the Cosmic to get back out again.

ANYWAY Luminara was initially seen as aligned with the Unifying while in the crèche (not in Obi-Wan's clan, but about the same age as them; maybe a year older? Clawmouse clan, maybe?), since her "visions" seemed really similar to Obi-Wan's when they were very little, and that's where they bonded and Luminara became a staple in their friend group, to the point she's also forgotten not to have been a part of Saberjowl clan. okay and here's where my fanon of the Cosmic really comes into play: the Living Force is a facet of the present, of the seen and immediate surroundings, while the Unifying is a facet of the future. the Cosmic is a facet of the unseen present. it isn't prescience if it's happening at that moment, and she "sees" things those aligned to the Living Force don't, she has even higher empathy than most, she sees what people are trying to hide, but also things she simply has no business knowing, often due to distance (like across-the-galaxy distance, sometimes), but not because she's seen the future. luckily her master (canonically another Mirialan, though unnamed) caught the difference between her and Obi-Wan, and encouraged strengthening her skill and connection to her natural alignment, despite many masters and much of the high council advising against it.

so she's the one that knows immediately when something with Obi-Wan changes. she feels it in the Force first, that something is different, and then feels it when Obi-Wan snaps a shield over all of his Force bonds with his friends. he's done it before, multiple times (he's years ahead of his agemates in shielding, but because he'd had to learn younger than most so he could manage his visions), but the way he shields them now is Masterful, with a capital M (Quinlan says this in the scene i have written lmao), and Luminara only notices the shielding going up because she's already paying attention. their friend group is all in a little study session together, Obi-Wan the only one out on a mission (i love love love @roosjem's trope across their fics of the Jedi trying their best to keep all of their crèche clan from being in-Temple at the same time to limit the Chaos™; that's not what's happening here, but i still wanted to shout that out. also just read all of roosjem's works, they're some of my all-time favorite in fandom), so Luminara pointing it out makes them all realise Obi-Wan is all but blocking them. again this isn't the first time he has, far from, but never this thoroughly, never this well. they can tell he's not dead and is physically well, but that's about it

this happens more or less right after he lands in the past, when he decides like. immediately that he's going to fix the future. like there's no hesitation, no waffling about preserving the timeline or about the ethics, or even considering he isn't back in time, that it's a vision or something. nope. just immediate "well a moment ago I was meditating on the Negotiator thinking about how much I would change how I handled Mandalore, and now I'm here back on Mandalore, so like. I'm gonna go change how I handled Mandalore."

i'm still working out the timeline, but i need it to be around a month of Obi-Wan making his way to Keldabe, though maybe even more, to really get the pot stirring. i really liked @catamaranthenonnewtonianfluid's idea of Luminara just being the closest to Mandalore when Obi-Wan fully cuts ties with the Jedi, so i'll be going that route somewhat, me thinks. so the events in sequence (so far) are:

Obi time hops, shields all his Force bonds and starts gunning for Keldabe; Luminara senses something in the Force, and then their friend group notices him shielding far more expertly than he should be able to; Obi-Wan drops Satine off with Qui-Gon, and Qui starts chasing after him; Obi-Wan bounces around the sector/system, taking out Death Watch where he can, protecting those that he can, helping everyone that doesn't ping negatively in the Force; Mandalorians start taking notice, start tracking his progress, clans start standing down at least for the moment wondering what Obi-Wan's existence and actions are going to do to the wars; knowingly and unknowingly, the people and the Manda align to "pick" him as a sort of candidate for Mand'alor;

at between a month and two months, Obi-Wan arrives in Keldabe and steals all Pre Vizsla's info on Jango, using that and his future knowledge/research to track Jango down; leaves the Mandalore system, alerting Qui-Gon by virtue of their bond growing weaker; Luminara sneaks out, knowing something Big is happening; Obi takes about a week to reach Outland Transit Station, where he confronts and fails to convince Jango to return to Mandalore; by internally acknowledging himself as dar'manda, Jango breaks his connection to the Ka'ra, and the Ka'ra pick Obi-Wan instead; Obi-Wan realises he can't half-ass his support of Mandalore, and starts erasing himself from the Order's systems as he makes his way back to Mandalore; just before he lands back on planet, a week later, he deletes himself from the Jedi, breaks his training bond with Qui-Gon, and sends out his last few messages (including to Luminara, since I didn't have her in the last update); he doesn't break his friendship bonds or anything, but shields them even more, until the only reason they know he's alive is that their bond hasn't been snapped; the Order only thinks to look in their data systems when Qui-Gon calls them in a panic about his broken bond, and everyone who got an anonymous message (though obviously from Obi-Wan [obvious to anyone but Feemor lmao]) comes forward, and the Order can only decide to let Obi-Wan go. No one is particularly happy about this, but what else can they do? They tell Qui-Gon his mission to protect Satine hasn't stopped, but he has to stop chasing Obi-Wan, whatever he's doing for Mandalore is out of their hands now. except, of course, Luminara is still in their purview, so obviously need to send someone to go get her.

now Luminara. she's the only one who got a message who wasn't in the Temple at the time, and is also the only one connected to the Cosmic Force. she can't decipher the Will of the Force better than others precisely, at least not on a grand scale, but she knows something big is going down, even bigger than when Obi-Wan first changed. so maybe she and her friends were following what little information the Order had had about Obi-Wan's movements after dropping Satine off, both from what they're being told in order to be kept in the loop, but also what Quinlan has been sneaking around eavesdopping about

("M'just practicing my Shadow skills, Lumi! Master Tholme even told me to!"

"I don't think that he did."

"He didn't not tell me to!")

when they hear that Obi-Wan left the Mandalore system (on his way to find Jango), Luminara knows this is another turning point. something in the Cosmic Force roils, like a riptide, and she sneaks out of the Temple without her master. something big is happening with Obi-Wan, with Mandalore, and Luminara feels like she's the only one that sees that. she isn't exactly wrong, either, since Qui-Gon and the Order are focusing on immediate repercussions, on consequences of Obi-Wan's actions immediately around him, instead of their consequences on and in the Force, in how they're affecting the future. the Jedi are so focused on trying to figure out what changed that they're not looking at what's changing.

Luminara knows she won't get away with it for long, but Sifo-Dyas unexpectedly (or maybe not so unexpectedly) covers for her, and she indeed gets a good few days' headstart. her master is Temple-bound due to injuries, and the High Council would have wanted to send Shadows anyway, so they send Quinlan and Tholme because they know Quinlan will find a way to follow Luminara, and would have found a way to Mandalore even if she hadn't done so first.

so so so when Obi-Wan's final letters go out, Luminara is already en route, and is even more convinced of her decision, though she isn't letting herself think about what consequences this will have for her future in the Order. Quinlan is the one to tell her over comm message that Obi-Wan has deleted himself from the Order, that he's officially unaffiliated now. Luminara meditates on her own position in the Order, and still finds her path leading towards knighthood, so that's a relief; she won't fault Obi-Wan for his decision to leave, but she's very glad the Force agrees that's still where she, at least, belongs

so she's about a week ahead of Tholme and Quinlan, but still a good few weeks away from Mandalore, and spends much of that time strengthening and reaffirming her bond to Obi-Wan, though she suspects he's shielding it on his end as well, so won't be able to tell what she's doing. that, more than anything, convinces her that Obi-Wan is expecting to deal with all of whatever this is on his own, and she refuses to let him. she isn't quite sure how she's going to find him when she gets there, but she trusts the Force will provide

i haven't done this before, but i think i'm going to have a separate fic for other povs as they come up. for some reason that format really speaks to me for this story in particular. the main fic will all be Obi's pov, while the side stories will be chronological and limited scenes, and will be posted as they come up in the main fic, me thinks. so far i have plans for povs from Qui-Gon, Satine, Quinlan, Luminara, and Mace, though Satine will be maybe two scenes at the very beginning, and Qui's will be quite limited as well. and i know i've been very Jedi-focused the last few "updates" of this idea, but the actual story will be significantly more Obi-Wan and Mando-centric, especially Vhonte Tervho, Silas, Wad’e Tay’haai, Rav Bralor, and maybe Cort Davin. i want to explore some of the lesser-utilised Mandos, particularly the women; depending on how i end up handling the Ka'ra and Obi's connection to it, I might also be playing with Tarre Vizsla and other Mand'alor'e too

(have a hilarious tiny scene idea of someone, Silas maybe, asking Obi if he's a reincarnation of Tarre like. to his face and Obi is like

"Am I what."

and they're like "Are you Tarre Vizsla reincarnated"

"No??"

"Well how do you know?"

"Because kaysh ghost is standing in the corner right now laughing at me??” and it makes some doubters realise that like. oh. he’s a Mand’alor, actually blessed by the Ka'ra. but i haven't decided on the whole ghosts thing yet, so who knows if this'll end up in the actual fic)

SO on that note, more Vhonte:

Obi-Wan leaves the lil Old Guard summit like "I can't stand around waiting for them to make a decision, especially when I know it won't be in my favour", he slips out as quietly as he'd entered so most don't notice, and Vhonte is the only one to follow. she won't swear to him, not yet, but she falls in behind and next to him as he's walking away with purpose like "alright, where do you need me" and Obi-Wan pauses like mid-step because... what? but he senses her mandokar, senses her loyalty, even senses how loyal she had been to Jango (enough to answer his Call to Kamino, in the future), and, well, he's even better planning around two people than he is around just himself (too many years at Qui-Gon's side, and then Anakin at his). and he'd spent much of the time coming back from Outland Station adjusting his Mandalore Plans (capital P) from those he had made with Jango in mind, so he already has an idea of what to do first. he also knows, without asking, that Vhonte is offering only herself for this mission, that this a test for him, and he's alright with the knowledge that even if he somehow fails that test, it won't change much from how he'd thought he'd have to deal with things

this is where he really starts talking about Death Watch, about how weak they are without Tor Vizsla but are still the main backing to keeping Satine out of power while all the other clans are squabbling. Vhonte hesitates just for a moment, wondering if Obi-Wan is even in his right mind, if maybe he's blinded by the revenge he's swearing in the gold on his armour, a revenge against Death Watch, but even though she isn't Manda-touched, she trusts in the Manda, that it would not pick Obi-Wan if he truly was off his rocker, nor lead her to him so directly and insistently if she wasn't meant to follow him. She also clocks his casual use of Satine's name, and she starts to wonder if he comes from a New Mandalorian clan and that's why he says he's clanless, that he'd declared them dar'buir and struck out on his own.

and then he starts laying out his Plans (capital P) and Vhonte realises "oh. not only is he serious, he's good at this". she's a little concerned how experienced he seems with guerrilla tactics (just looked up the origin of the word guerrilla, so i absolutely think Mando'a would have an equivalent. akaan'ika? or akalenedat'ika? anyway) but she doesn't question him, not yet, curious to see how well his plans will actually work, especially in the long run.

so first, Obi-Wan takes her to his offensively-small ship that he stole at Outland Station and she's immediately like "absolutely not" and they go to hers instead, and he gives her the specifics of step one of his Plan, and she sort of feels at loose ends, because Obi-Wan really seems to have it covered without her input.

their first target? the ruins of Keldabe.

mandalore the young cont.

original post/discussion here! it was just getting really long and i for one hate scrolling so far, so. here's this. have also added this au to my masterlist in my pinned post!

@malcontent-crow

#i had a whole wall of tags and it didnt save! lets try this again#i am loving this. the potential for world building and the consequences of knowing more than you should (literally)

#i had forgotten that DW wasnt in peoples thoughts as a threat during the Clan Wars#and the idea that Pre was so far underground with the movement is a very good thing to remember as well! #on one hand you have this driven and spirited young verd that is inspiring Clans to start reassessing who they are fighting and why#on the other you have this clanless outsider that knows waaaaay too much about all the potential major players and is saying#that this major threat isnt really as gone as everybody thought and hoped. sith parallels out the wahoo for ppor obi#and hes standing there watching them all argue over his head about this threat that he KNOWS needs to be dealt with#he is seeing himself as pretty on par or above with the Old Guard in terms of mental age or prowess or large scale battles#so he sees them doubt him maybe even to his face and knows he'll need to get things started on his own

#and becauae everything in the galaxay has at least one person watching it from the outside... how quickly does the news of a jedi padawan#going off the rails on this mission get out? whos keeping track and who points fingers at the jedi for attempting to control the outcome#of the war of their historical enemies in their favor? the senate (read sith) want mandalore defanged before their war but what does it look#like the jedi want? how does the council answer for his actions? do they condemn or condone him? do they try to stay out of it?

#the world building potential of the Manda and the Ka'ra is delicious.#what does it mean to be a mando or darmanda? can you walk around and have people look at you and know you have failed in your oaths?

#and ouch! Obi-Wan considering the fact that he has never been allowed to be his own person.#from padawan to knight/master and then a general and councilor and sheesh. hes really never had the chance to see who he is as a person#outside of his responsibilities to everybody around him and right now hes a war worn adult in a war worn teens body#hes always had somebody else there. as a battle companion a teacher a student as somebody to protect and guard and guide#and now he has this entire culture looking at him and waiting for his next move. and im guess it still feels like less than a burden than#the care and raising of an entire child on his own. sure he had the temple resources and other jedi to lean on but anakin always looked to#him first to solve any problem or teach him something new or cuddle him after nightmares as hes trying to hide his own dreams#and grief and flounding to find his footing as an independent adult

#so right now hes looking around at the entire mando population and realizing thats he might need to reshape himself again for somebody else#to make himself what others need and knowing he can and will do it if it means saving somebody else

#and when exactly did he come back from the war? did he have satine die in his arms and see the ruin that is madalore after a pacifist reign?#does he see the potential for that ruin to happen right now if he doesnt succeed? where does he see himself in regards to the jedi?#has he considered the consequences of stepping up to be the Mand'alor to this culture he has never seen as his own?#has he let himself think about the choices he needs to make and how some things you cant always come out the other side the same as before?

(following the trend of each of these getting longer, this has hit just under 5,000 words, so just a heads up lol? so much world building is happening in this one)

sorry you had to rewrite so much! that last exchange was cursed, it seems lmao

it's so easy to write Obi-Wan as prescient, or the route I'm going with in Dha Kar'ta, so i think it's a fun change-up to have him knowledgeable for completely different reasons! I'm actually going to avoid visions almost at all for this Obi, but everyone else certainly won't know the difference, and he doesn't tell them otherwise (though he won't encourage it either. I do actually have a Naruto time travel where Nart pretends to be psychic à la Shawn Spencer, so that isn't the route I wanna go for this Obi). the consequences of knowing too much, indeed

hmmm many of these questions depend on how deep into Jedi and galactic politics I wanna go, and I'm not sure it's very deep at all. or at least, not very dragged out. i'll explain in a mo

SO first: yes, this Obi is from after Satine dies, in 19 BBY, maybe a month or so after, but before the bombing of the Temple so before Ahsoka left the Order. He was back on the front, no time to properly mourn, though he was doing his best, and was meditating on the whole war, but especially the Sith and their hand in everything that happened on Mandalore. It went deeper than Maul, he knew, had been going on longer than Maul and even Dooku, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that the Sith either wanted a Mandalore that will side with them but not be too much a threat, or they wanted them not a threat at all. He realised his hand in that, in helping put the New Mandalorians on the throne that led to the demilitarisation of the entire sector. Obi-Wan had practically teed Mandalore up for Dooku and then Maul's interference, and if the Republic won the war, he could all too easily see them doing another excision. won't get too much into it to save it for the fic, but he is mediating with something beskar, and he gets a lil too deep into the Force, and of course this is post-Mortis so...... 👀

so this Obi-Wan, back in time, is helping Mandalore to prevent any more Sith machinations in the future, to change the future for the whole galaxy, but even before he's Chosen, he realises he's also doing all of this for Mandalore. for his own hand in its destruction, for the Jedi's hand in the Excision, for his personal connection to Satine drawing Maul to it. it's for atonement, for reparation, and also because Mandalore deserves to be saved, and Obi-Wan is in a place he can help do that. it isn't just about the health of the galaxy, anymore.

I usually shy away from having Obi-Wan leave the Order, no matter what AU I'm throwing him in because I believe in the fundamental goodness of the Order and the people in it, and Obi-Wan is fundamentally a Jedi, one of the best, one of the best. however, in this case, I don't think he can have his cake and eat it too. if Dooku had to leave the Order to accept his countship, then Obi-Wan would have to leave to become Mand'alor. Jedi are (supposed to be) politically neutral, and Obi-Wan is all too aware he'd nullified his own neutrality the moment he decided to go for Keldabe to find Jango.

one of my favorite... tropes? in time travel fic is Obi using his future fellow councilmembers' access codes to get into things he shouldn't, and he certainly knows how to work the Order's internal systems in his favor, so he

wait so i was gonna have him go in and tender his resignation from the Order directly into the systems, and backdate it for before the Mandalore mission, so that anything he's done on Mandalore so far cannot be blamed on the Jedi BUT WHAT IF he just. deletes himself. like completely. from admin to the Archives to the crèche's own internal systems to the Shadow's private servers, Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a Jedi, was never a Temple bastard, was never Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. his mission records are all in Qui-Gon's name now, his medical file simply doesn't exist, his crècheling clan is listed as simply having been a person short compared to other clans that year. he goes so far as to delete comm histories with him or mentioning him, it's like Obi-Wan Kenobi just doesn't exist anymore.

he does this first thing after leaving Jango, he spends the entire week back to Mandalore ensuring he's been completely erased from absolutely anything relating to the Jedi, and then uses his future councilmember knowledge (and lessons from Quinlan) to erase himself from Republic systems, too. any planet he'd helped as a padawan will suddenly have no records of him as having been there with his master, so the senate or Order can't subpoena them for the info, though Obi-Wan knows he can't have gotten everything (such as any planet not in the Republic, or who don't have holonet access to their files, or both, like Melida/Daan), but he figures he's done enough to absolve the Order if anyone comes knocking about what he's doing.

he buries his lightsaber in the deserts of Mandalore, not knowing that in his old future, he'd have done the same on Tatooine.

so as far as the Jedi are aware: Obi-Wan went on a mission with Qui-Gon that (predictably) went to hell, got separated from his master for weeks to months, then suddenly changed, at the same time their Jedi with the highest prescience collapsed due to his visions, which have also changed. Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon behind to hightail it through the Mandalore sector, and Qui-Gon couldn't catch up or find him, and then Obi-Wan disappeared from anyone's radars for two weeks. then Qui-Gon senses him reenter the Mandalore system, right before breaking his training bond with him, and the Order wakes up to Obi-Wan completely erased from their systems like he never existed in the first place. everything is going so so wrong, and yet. and yet.

and yet the Force is telling them all that this is right, that this is the least Dark course of action, that whatever Obi-Wan is doing is indeed the Will of the Force

so the Order mourns one of their own, and tells Qui-Gon to let him go. and then the Order ups their cyber security because what.

i think he leaves an unsigned letter/comm message for a few people. Bant, Quinlan, Mace, Feemor, his old crèchemaster, Yoda, maybe Jocasta Nu. it's short, basically thanking them for their hand in his upbringing (Feemor hasn't even met him before so is very confused by this), apologising for leaving abruptly, but to follow the Will of the Force, he had to leave; the first part of the message is all the same, but ends with little individual notes. he apologises to Madam Nu for fucking with her archives and hopes she can one day forgive him; he asks her to keep her friends close and to mend the tension between her and Dooku, that Obi-Wan should not know about. He tells Yoda that the future is always in motion but they must move with it; he asks Yoda to meditate on his dwindling lineages and learn to accept all that he cannot control. He reminds Quinlan to wear his gloves and asks him to thank Tholme for looking out for him when Qui-Gon wouldn't or didn't; he thanks him for their years together, and asks him to check in on Feemor every now and then. He apologises to Mace for all the shatter-points he likely caused and will continue to cause, and suggests he put a permanent reminder in his comm to remember to refill his migraine prescription that sixteen year-old Obi should not know about. He asks Bant to look out for a young Togruta initiate that will join in seven years, and suggests Bant might like the healer track rather than the knight corps; he thanks her for being his longest and most dearly-held friend. He thanks his crèchemaster for realising his visions were more than dreams (which will inadvertently lend credence to that theory for why Obi-Wan changed so suddenly), for supporting him when Bruck was at his nastiest, and for always being someone he could turn to even after he became a padawan. For Feemor, Obi-Wan apologises that they hadn't had the chance to meet before then, and for the relationship they won't have anymore; Feemor has no idea who this message is from, until he starts hearing the gossip that Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Order again. He too mourns never getting to know his padawan brother.

and Obi-Wan sends Qui-Gon a message, of course, thanking him for his teachings, apologising for "leading him on" as an apprentice, leaving and coming back so many times only to permanently leave this time. he reminds Qui to reach out to his friends and his support system, asks him to at least consider talking to a mind or soul healer about Xanatos (knowing that once it gets out that Obi-Wan is a planetary leader, it will likely badly trigger Qui-Gon), and asks him to at least try and mend his relationship with Dooku, though understands if that's not something Qui-Gon is willing to do. asks him to keep Satine safe, but to deeply think about why the Republic is so intent on helping her faction, and why Qui-Gon had questioned so little of the New Mandalorian ethos.

so by the time Obi-Wan finds the Old Guard, he's broken from the Order completely, has buried his saber, has broken his training bond, has cut his braid. I think he shaves his head entirely to let it grow out at the same rate, because the padawan cut is *Eliot Spencer voice* Very Distinctive. he paints his armour white for, yes, his men, his vod'e, but also for cin vhetin. he can't be the man he was before, nor the teen he was before, neither are who Mandalore needs, and as long as he can stay true to his morals and upbringing, he will be what Mandalore needs him to be.

okay now onto the Manda vs. the Ka'ra vs. the Force. the Force is a scientific concept of an energy connecting absolutely everything in the universe, and the Jedi have a religious view on the scientific concept. for both purposes, the Force just is. I really like the idea of other non-Jedi ideas just being different aspects of the Force, different religions and cultures based on the same scientific concepts. for Mandalorians, their "aspect" of the Force is the Manda, the collective souls of every Mando'ade that's ever marched on. just what it means to be Mando'ade has varied greatly through history, and is varied between different groups even now, but none of that changes what the Manda is, which is an aspect of the Force only Mando'ade can touch. sort of like their beliefs of it being separate from the Force have made it so?

now I haven't really talked about this before, but from the beginning of me writing Mandalorian related things, i've separated Ka'ra from ka'ra, which was a little bit me misremembering there was another term for "stars", and then it became it's own thing. kar, meaning "star", with it's plural kar'e or kare, to me, means physical stars, the way we'd call our sun a star. ka'ra, uncapitalised, is the more poetic and/or spiritual "stars", the way we might say something is "written in the stars", which actually aligns with how jate'kara is spelled; for my writing, i've used this form for Mandalorian Force-sensitives being Star-touched ka'ra-touched. Ka'ra, capitalised, is that "ruling council of fallen kings", the Mandalorian myth and it, the way I've always interpreted it, is a separate part of the Manda made up of specifically the souls of every Mand'alor already marched on. So, Tor Vizsla could have joined the Manda after death, but not the Ka'ra; make sense? all that ka'ra vs Ka'ra worldbuilding was done very early in my writing for star wars, and has since expanded to include the idea of the Manda as something separate, and I would now actually consider Manda-touched over Star-touched to describe Force sensitive Mando'ade, because that's really what I think Mandalorians would consider causes their supernatural powers: ancestors rather than the stars.

so what does that mean for this fic? the Manda is directly influenced by all those that consider themselves Mandalorian, Force-sensitive or not. it is, however, not affected by New Mandalorians, unless they worship the Manda in some facsimile, and I think many, many, many do not, not the way they were raised to. this worship looks different for every clan and every individual, and I've always interpreted it as more of a broad spiritual practice across the whole culture rather than a religion, per se, the way a real-world broader culture might pray at shrines at New Years even if individuals themselves or their family aren't religious. this is what I'm referencing when I say the Will of the People: the alive Mando'ade and their choices and emotions affecting and influencing the Manda, the collective amalgamation of every passed-on Mando'ade, and it's when these two are in tandem that they "pick" a Mand'alor. HOWEVER, such a pick is also up to the Ka'ra, the Mand'alor'e that have all marched on; to one day enter the Ka'ra themselves, a Mand'alor must be "picked" by both the People/the Manda, and the Ka'ra. Tor would be "picked" by a significant part of the People and the Manda, and so would Jaster have been, but (according to me, myself, and i, obviously), only Jaster had been chosen by the Ka'ra. Pre is "Mand'alor" only in name, only in a tenuous loyalty existing in House Vizsla and Death Watch, not even by the Manda; just simple human (et al) loyalty. Jango had a weaker "pick" from the Manda than Jaster did, but was picked by the Ka'ra, meaning if he did not declare himself dar'manda (even just internally; I don't think he's ever said it out loud), he would have joined the Ka'ra after death; if he ever reconnects with himself as a Mandalorian, I like to think he'd have that chance again. Canon Jango, though, who went on to make the clones? Absolutely not.

what does this all mean for Obi-Wan? he'd spent weeks inadvertently drumming up support in the people and therefore the Manda, and maybe most haven't really looked at him and thought "sure I'd follow him as Mand'alor", but they have looked at him and thought "that one has mandokar, that one wants what's best for Mandalore, that one is touched by destiny". I dunno, man, like. Obi-Wan is their hope before he is their leader. That will make all the difference when he does end up uniting them. His searching out Jango had made Jango finally confront that he feels dar'manda, until then he hadn't really lost the Ka'ra's support, but that severs that connection. and now the Ka'ra are without a Mand'alor, but look at that, there's a mandokar'la little idiot right there, already strong in the Manda, already rallying hope and purpose, already so invested in the nurturing and the future of Mandalore, how could the Ka'ra not choose him?

I posed the question previously whether or not Mando'ade can tell who has been chosen to be Mand'alor, and I think I've ironed out what that'll mean for this fic. non-Force sensitive Mando'ade will have this sense when near their Mand'alor, a subconscious and inherent trust in them, and indeed, some will be disturbed by this and fight it. that's alright, that's their right. Some never clock this extra sense, some are aware of it always, some just chalk it up to "gut feelings" and the like. The more spiritual or religious Mandos maybe put a little more stock in this feelings, I think especially goran'e and other spiritual leaders, but the fact that the Manda can technically pick more than one person at a time (like Tor and Jaster, and then Jango), this extra sense isn't a perfect indicator of a properly chosen Manda'lor.

now. what about Force sensitive Mando'ade? Well, the Manda is an aspect of the Force, and is in fact how said Force sensitive Mando'ade connect to the Force, by going through the Manda, first. their relationship with sensitivity is inherently different from others in the galaxy, at least those that connect to it directly. they are the ones that can sense or see if someone is chosen by the Ka'ra, depending on their sensitivity. Some see the ghostly line of previous Mand'alor'e stretched out behind them (like the Avatar cycle lmao), some see a wavering crown of stars around their head, some just sense there is a duplicity (/neutral) to their Force presence that doesn't exist in anyone else. how common is Force sensitivity in Mandalorian space? not fuckin very. Jaster had three in his entire faction of aprox. 2 million (fanon number), at least that were aware they were sensitive. Jango only had a few more, and only because he had gained a couple hundred thousand more followers before Galidraan. so i'll make the nearly-arbitrary number that Force sensitive Mandos are 1 in 1,000,000, across the entire sector. by some calculations, in the whole galaxy at around the time of the Clone Wars the number of Force sensitives is 1 in 5,000,000 but these calculations do not generally include societies and species with a near or 100% chance of Force sensitivity, because we simply don't have the data for it. does this all make Mandos slightly more likely to be Force sensitive than others, by my own numbers? sorta. which i'm making an issue of underreporting, based on Mandalore not being a part of the Republic, and also contention with the Jedi and Sith; they don't consider those Manda-touched to be Force sensitive, and with the way I've built this, they aren't exactly wrong.

for the purposes of this story, there are maybe eight Manda-touched Mando'ade in the Mandalore system at this time, and all but one are goran'e. that single non-armorer is part of the Old Guard. I have the roster for the Old Guard decided, so I'm debating whether the Manda-touched one is Cort Davin (a journeyman protector), or one of the women. Instinct wants Vhonte Tervho, but I have plans for her to be related to the goran Obi-Wan got his armour done by, who I wanted to be one of the seven Force sensitive armorers, soooo. lmao how fucked would it be if Isabet Reau is the Force sensitive one? I like the angst of that, since I definitely do not plan on redeeming her, but I kind of want the only Old Guard that can sense Obi-Wan is Chosen by the Ka'ra to be really quiet and accepting of it, while everyone else is arguing. hmmm I have an unnamed Wren as part of the Guard, that I haven't fleshed anything out for yet; perhaps them?

okay I think I've solidified what it makes a Mandalorian, at least for the function of this fic. it is tied to the Resol'nare, and following it, which does allow those who had Chosen Tor Vizsla as their Mand'alor to technically still be following the Resol'nare, and are therefore not dar'manda. at least not for that. but part of the reason the Resol'nare is even able to determine who has a Mandalorian soul, is because they believe it does. Those alive and those dead influence the functionality and reality of the Manda, which also allows for those pre-Resol'nare to still exist in the Manda. What causes someone to become dar'manda, if they are technically following the Resol'nare?

maybe it's reductive, or over-simplified, or maybe even too broad, but it makes sense to me and allows for many many different types of people to still fail, and this is obviously not the only way to become dar'manda, but one thing that will always strip someone of their Mando soul? treatment of children. caring for children. not harming children. this allows many of Death Watch to still maintain their Mando souls, but still be fucked up awful people in other ways. It allows even True Mandalorians to have lost their souls and not realised it because they otherwise adhered to the Resol'nare, because they'd chosen to interpret "defending oneself and family" and "raising your children as Mandalorians" to not include other peoeple's children. Or maybe they were abusive in the belief they were caring for their children. This would also make every single one of the Cuy'val Dar dar'manda, which I think is a fascinating concept.

to answer your question directly, no, one cannot look at someone and know they're dar'manda, even the Force/Manda sensitive ones. one will only know in death, whether or not they have a place in the Manda.

NOW what does this mean for New Mandalorians?? well, by technicality and the way I've set the Manda up, one can interpret the Resol'nare in ways that could align with New Mandos. Perhaps they interpret "armour" as more than specifically "beskar'gam", maybe they wear armourweave or other protective fabrics. Maybe they interpret "defending one's family" as putting down arms instead of raising them, in order to create a peaceful future for their children. I think there are plenty of New Mandos that technically tick off all the boxes, and believe in themselves and their fellows so much that the Manda is like "yeah sure why not, we'll make that count". I think some tenants are more easily... bent, like swearing to the duchy in place of the Mand'alor, but I think an easy one New Mandos miss, is "speak Mando'a." I think many New Mandos were all too quick to switch to Basic for everything except religious and spiritual ceremonies, and I think those already in the Manda would find that very hard to forgive. I actually get into this a little in Dha Kar'ta very soon, but for this fic, i'll have Satine not outright outlawing Mando'a, but it is socially heavily discouraged. you're not allowed to speak it in the palace unless in aforementioned ceremonies, you cannot fill out paperwork in anything but Basic, you're not allowed to use Mando'a titles (including Mand'alor), you're not allowed to teach it to your children. no outright like. punishments for speaking it in public, but if your kids are caught, there are repercussions, including investigation into how else you're raising your kids, and if you're found to be doing anything else, they can take your kids from you. not every New Mando agrees with this, of course, and go about adhering to the Resol'nare as best they can in secret, but so many do give up the language by convincing themselves it's not as important as the other tenants and, well, the duchy hasn't steered them all wrong yet, has it?

okay so on the subject of what the outside galaxy is seeing. I like the headcanon/trope/idea of like. the one thing all factions of Mandalorians agreeing on is fuck everyone else. oh, the New Mandos will emulate the Core and the Republic, but they aren't the Republic nor want to be, and this animosity extends to keeping as many internal Mandlorian issues just that: internal. no faction can keep news from leaving the system or the sector, obviously, but there also isn't a lot of interest in Mandalorian news? "oh look all the Mandos are fighting again", except that's been the standard for like. actual thousands of years. I like when fic have people outside the sector not evening knowing there are different factions, so I'll be doing that here, too, and I like the idea of non-Republic sectors having their own holonets, separate from the Republic one. so like, if Obi-Wan happens to go a little viral during his mad dash to Keldabe, that would be on the Mandalorian holonet, not the Republic one, so even if Obi-Wan was visibly still a Jedi (and he wasn't), actual news of him wouldn't reach the Mid and Inner Rims until like. possible years after it happens.

could this maybe be expedited by Sith machinations? absolutely, though I'm not sure I want to go that route, since I don't think the Sith are overmuch interested in Mandalore at this point, at least not in any hands-on capacity. I'm unclear on whether them funding Death Watch is fanon or not, but it is a headcanon I subscribe to, and I think they'd have stopped funding DW after Galidraan, to cause worse infighting and prevent DW from gaining enough power to actually restart their imperial conquering days. Palpatine has been senator for about ten years by this point, but has very little political power overall, and Demask would be looking basically anywhere but Mandalore at this point in time, both of them having written it off until they actively need something from the sector. if anyone had clocked Obi-Wan as a Jedi, this all would have gone very differently, news would have spread much further and quicker and I think undoubtedly would have reached Palpatine, but since I have Obi-Wan just... cutting ties to anything Jedi, news of him remains in-sector. is this perhaps unrealistic? maybe, but I kind of want to focus on Mandalore and not worry about galactic-wide politics for once, lmao, actually very much like Obi-Wan is doing. however, he will clock a lack of Sith interference and thinks That's Very Weird.

haven't decided how he finds Palpatine out yet, but I think it'll have to do with his Manda senses being different than his Force ones, maybe the Ka'ra even gives him a few tips or gifts to sense Sith since they've allied and fought with them so much in the past. regardless, that'll be after he's become Mand'alor and united the clans.

now to actual plot progression! Obi-Wan meets up with the Old Guard, they don't know what to make of him other than "he's kriffing weird. and young. and creepy. and probably Manda-touched." whatever other verd is Manda-touched will see him blessed by the Ka'ra, which causes them to look inwards more closely and realise they trust Obi-Wan inexplicably, which means they're blessed by the Manda and the Will of the People, too. they wonder if Obi-Wan has noticed, if any of the other Old Guard have noticed. they are one of a few that notice Obi-Wan sneaking back out while everyone is arguing.

Vhonte Tervho is another. She's at this lil summit to represent clan Tervho, tho isn't the clan head, because her ba'vodu, a Manda-touched goran, had sensed she needed to be at the summit. said ba'vodu is of course the armorer who reforged Obi-Wan's armour (need to find a name for them hmm), who had told their clan they were to cease fighting until their new Mand'alor called on them. Vhonte sees Obi-Wan, realises at the same time as everyone that he's the Kih'Manda, the Mand'ika that the entire system had been gossiping about for weeks, and she thinks of what her ba'vodu said. she looks inwards, like they had taught her to, and finds, yes, she trusts Obi-Wan, just like she used to trust Jango. And, well, her Mand'alor is obviously leaving to go do something, and she isn't going to let him go it alone.

the Manda-touched verd doesn't go with them, wanting to see what comes of this, but they already know Obi-wan is Ka'ra Chosen. they will come when he calls.

#had to consult the Sib about some plans and i'm still not confident in them but i now stand by Obi not going right for Pre even firmer #he'll lose any surprise he has but the ACT of disrupting DW is even more important than taking out the head #specifically in an effort to unite the clans against a common enemy #ANYWAY here's a shoutout for ghost whisperer by stephaniestephanie on ao3 for their idea of the Undying as a fifth facet of the Force #which i LOVE and want to play with but just not in this fic #prequel trilogy #time travel au #obi wan kenobi #vhonte tervho #luminara unduli #quinlan vos #have been thinking about ''obi is the meat filled pumpkin they needed'' nonstop #this is HEAVILY pro jedi just in case there's any confusion #but also have you ever met a bunch of academics with differing opinions about the same subjects?? fuckin nightmares the lot of them #jedi order #world building #meta #ish #need to stop finishing these responses between 1am and 4am #because i have no self control and will post them immediately #ANYWAY #thank y'all for all the love on this i'm havin a blast #anyone can ask questions or offer ideas!#catamaranthenonnewtonianfluid

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miley1442111 · 5 months ago

Text

realistic reactions- r. cameron

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a/n: this takes place in a au where the stuff that happens in the show doesn't happen :)

tropes: childhood bestfriends to lovers, enemies to lovers

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader, jj maybank x reader (dw, not for long)

(use of Y/n, and the nickname Bunny/ bun (but i promise not in a weird way there's a story to it i swear it's not just one of those weird smut things))

summary: something pushes feelings up to the surface for rafe, yet yours remain unchanged.

warnings: mentions of drugs and drug use and drinking, fighting, cursing, rafe is a dick, rafe's mental health, reader is going through it, mentions of a blowjob, etc.

not entirely proofread

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The next time Rafe saw you, it was in his kitchen. So casually. His kitchen. Talking with Wheezie and Sarah.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Wheezie chuckled. ��It’s 5pm, by the way.”

Rafe just scoffed and flipped her his middle finger and she sighed, rejoining your conversation. Rafe listened in, of course. What else did you expect him to do? You were sitting in his kitchen.

“What about Jj?” Sarah smirked. “He’s totally into you.”

Fuck no. Fuck no.

Jj Maybank had been trying to get your attention since Pre-k, and Rafe didn’t like that. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like it now. You were not going out with Jj.

“I guess… but he’s like two years younger than me, and he smokes,” you sighed.

“So what? I swear to god if you asked him to stop he would. He’s fucking obsessed with you,” she laughed.

“No way,” you laughed. “Anyways, I wouldn’t want to make him stop something he enjoys just because I don’t like it. That’s not fair.”

That sinking feeling he’d felt all day, the one that made him stay in his room far past his waking up at 11am, made its way to his throat. He was exactly what you didn’t want. He was a prime example of what you didn’t want. You wanted a sweet, normal, good guy. Rafe was an uncontrollable, angry, bad person. He had no chance.

The words fell from his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. “Jj is an asshole,” he scoffed.

“Rafe, did we invite you into this conversation?” Sarah sassed. “And, Jj is our friend, just because you like to uphold the shitty Kook-Pogue rivalry bullshit, doesn’t mean we have to.”

“Fuck off Sarah, I’m trying to warn Bun. He sleeps with anyone,” he turned to you and watched as your face turned from neutral to offended.

“Who says I didn’t just want to sleep with him?” You questioned and Rafe blood started to boil.

“Exactly!” Sarah exclaimed. “You can’t tell her what she can and can’t do.”

“Bun, I know you, you don’t want to date a guy like that-“

“No, Rafe, you don’t know me. You’d know me if you ever responded to me. You’d also know that I hate being called Bunny now, so please stop,” despite your cutting tone, Rafe couldn’t help but smile at your politeness.

But what you’d said. He knew it would come up, he knew you’d ask him why, and to be honest, he didn’t have an answer for you. Some part of him just thought it was hopeless. Even as a 14 year old boy, he knew he wasn’t for you, he knew he wouldn’t be enough for you. He couldn’t be what you deserved.

“Fine,” he smiled sarcastically, shaking the protein shake he’d been making. “See you later, Bunny.”

He heard you scoff as he walked off.

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“Asshole,” Sarah scoffed.

“He’s not that bad,” Wheezie defended.

“He’s not, that’s true,” you agreed, trying to save Rafe and Wheezie’s relationship. Sarah and Rafe were done. You and Rafe were done. Wheezie could still have a good relationship with Rafe. Be cared about by Rafe, like you once were, and if your childhood memories weren’t just romanticised versions of the truth, being cared about by Rafe Cameron was something you wouldn’t trade for the world.

“How can you say that?” Sarah gasped. “After what he did to you?”

“What did he do to you?” Wheezie asked, concern filing her young eyes.

“Sarah, that’s an exaggeration and you know it,” you sighed.

“Really? He stopped talking to you entirely, and then told everyone on this island that you stopped texting him back and convinced everyone else to do the same,” she listed.

You shrugged. “Yeah, he was a dick when he was 15, so what?”

“You cannot just be okay with it all, I’d be pissed!” Sarah argued.

“I’m over it, and I’m over him!” You say finally. You’re over it all, over Rafe.

Sarah finally lets up her arguing, and your girl's day goes back to normal. Then you got two very distracting texts.

RC: I’m sorry Bunny.

JM: You coming over 2night?

And if you’d seen the way those texts were sent, you’d be laughing, very hard.

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RC: I’m sorry Bunny.

“What the fuck do I say?”

“Just text her!” Kelce shouted from across the gym as Rafe stared down at his phone. “Say sorry!”

“Like that’ll cut it?” He hurled back. “I’m the world’s biggest asshole to her-”

“And everyone else,” Topper added and Rafe scowled.

“Thanks, fuckhead,” he groaned. “OK Kelce,” Rafe sighed. Kelce was the only one of them with a long-term girlfriend. “What do I say, verbatim?”

“How about, ‘sorry Bun’, it’s simple. It’s sweet. And it’ll mean you can come spot me now,” Kelce smirked and Rafe sighed typing it out, and handing it to Topper to send.

“You’re really getting me to send it? What are you, twelve?” Topper chuckled. Kelce laughed along while Rafe contemplated letting the bar fall on his friend’s chest, but eventually decided against it.

That was the problem, Rafe felt uncontrolled with you. Venturing into uncharted territories as his feelings, the ones he’d sworn he’d buried years ago, raised to the surface, and punched him in the face. All at once.

You were beautiful, Rafe knew that, anyone who saw you knew that. But what they didn't see was the little girl who Rafe ran to every time. the girl who was there for him, the girl who defended him, the girl who he loved.

Rafe's stomach lurched

Woah. Love? Shit, he was in deep.

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JM: You coming over 2night?

“What the fuck do I say?” Jj screeched as Pope and John B laughed at him. “That isn’t helping things!”

“Just text her you pussy!” John B laughed so hard he fell off his seat.

“Pope,” Jj looked to his smartest friend.

“Ok, ok, give me your phone,” Pope nodded and Jj handed it over, no question. Jj paced the kitchen as Pope typed out a message onto his phone, a thousand thoughts running through his head, almost all of them about you. God, you’d come back and you were even better than he’d remembered. More fun, more carefree, more beautiful. Jj knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed either, Rafe had his eyes on you and he knew it. Jj would have to act fast before Rafe pulled you back into his orbit of asshole-ness. At least, that’s what Jj called it. He knew if he wanted you, he'd have to act fast, and this was part one of his plan. You could never call Jj Maybank unplanned, because he always had something up his sleeve.

“Ok, how about,” Pope started and Jj’s heart dropped when his fake British accent came out. “My fair maiden, would you like to accompany me to-”

Jj snatched the phone out of his hands before he could finish, and both the boys were back in their uncontrollable fits of laughter. “Fuck you guys,” he mumbled, leaving the house, favouring to sit by the water instead. He took a deep breath and typed it out, spending about 10 minutes deliberating on whether to send it now, or just run for the hills and never speak to you again. Eventually, he sent it.

He anxiously awaited your reply.

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You: Sorry J, I have dinner with the Cameron’s 2night. Tomorrow? xxx

3 x’s had to mean something good, right? Like not ‘I’m in love with you, please marry me’ but not ‘you’re disgusting, I’m actively giving Rafe a blowjob fuck off, I love him’.

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RC: I’m sorry Bunny.

Read at 4:12pm

Fuck. He wasn’t just in the doghouse, he was on another fucking continent, and he had no choice but to fucking crawl his way back, and he had to act fast, especially if Jj Maybank was after you.

Dinner was going to be interesting.

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

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byuntrash101 · 1 year ago

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lovers on the sun

reader x dom!mingi ft. yunho angst | smut | mdni 4.8k you never understood why mingi chose that life. chose to be an outcast, a loveless bandit. over the years you came to terms with it. you got married, you grew. but when the outlaw finds himself gravely wounded his instincts drag him back to you. to the person he's willing to sacrifice everything for. nsfw tags under the cut

plot, outlaw!au, friends to strangers to lovers (?), hurt/comfort (the hurt part doesn't go too hard dw), a lil' angsty but lowkey wholesome, cheating, mutual pinning, good ending, yunho is mentionned but does not appear. nsfw: nipple play, body whorship (f), pet names (baby, doll) oral (f), slight begging, unprotected sex (i mean they didnt have a choice back then), mingi in the cowboy hat and leather coat (im weak for him </3), big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms (f), creampie, cock warming, he's madly in love with you

playlist: jeannette - el muchacho de los ojos trites, david guetta - lovers on the sun, amy whinehouse - love is a losing game

a/n: thank you so much @ssaboala for hosting this amazing collab. and thank you @hwaightme for helping me so much and brainstorming ideas. also i really recommand you listen to the playlist it will for sure put you in the nostalgic western mood <3

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You can’t help but be worried as you wake up to a cold bed. You haven’t seen Yunho in a couple of days. You wonder if he’s fine as you look out the window of your room to the cornfields. It’s just after dawn but the hot summer air is already laying heavy over the fields, making the green and yellow stems undulate.

You sigh heavily, imagining your husband on his horse in his uncomfortable and sweaty uniform combing the streets, the plains, the fields, the whole town, the whole state, maybe even the whole country. All of that on an empty stomach and sleep deprived.

But you knew he wasn’t going to come home before he caught him. Song Mingi. Ever since he was appointed sheriff it has been his life goal to catch him. The public enemy number one. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how much blood this man had on his hands. He pillaged and robbed and murdered. Always slippery like an eel and managing to get out of justice’s grasp.

Until a couple of days ago where he made a fatal mistake. Your husband jumped out of bed in the middle of the night and mobilized the entire department to look for the man. He was hurt and hiding somewhere. He only needed to be found. The dangerous outlaw reduced to a defenseless flower only waiting to be plugged. This time he knew he was done for and Yunho was going to finally catch him and bring him to justice and ultimately to the gallows. Where your husband thought the fugitive’s righteous place was. Behind the church and six feet under.

You chuckled humorlessly to yourself at the name. You used to know this name. You used to know it very well. Or at least you thought you did. You used to be close to Song Mingi. The three of you were. Mingi, Yunho and you. You were just a bunch of teenagers, you didn’t have a worry in the world. But you grew up and Yunho joined the force as Mingi did and you can only guess power got to his head. He eventually got caught involved in shady business with even shadier people. Until he left and became the fugitive. The outlaw you only knew by the wanted posters put up everywhere in town.

His name lost all familiarity. But your heart couldn’t forget about his soft half smile. About the warmth pulling in his orbs when the three of you stayed up in the hill to watch the stars, sleeping under the open night sky, despite the snakes and coyotes. Even the crackling fire couldn’t rivalize with the blaze of his sharp eyes on you. You couldn't forget his rough hand snaking its way on your nape, pulling you closer to lay the gentlest kiss on your lips. You nervously glanced over at Yunho sleeping next to the both you. You felt nervous even if this happened long before you got married, long before he confessed to you. And for Mingi there was not a trace of doubt on his sharp features, no evil in his eyes. Only love. You thought at least.

That was the very last night you saw him. The next day he fled to the valley and proceeded with his life of crime. Your heart ached again, how could he have chosen that life… over what he had. Why would he choose a blood stained pile of shriveled dollar bills instead of this night on the hills with you… instead of this kiss? Instead of you?

You shook your head trying to forget about the uncomfortable feeling of your skin crawling as the wholesome memory turned into bitter dormant ache. You have accepted it over the years. Truth was you never knew Song Mingi… You only knew about the sheep but never about the wolf.

But then again you have to get on with your day, and carry on. Life goes on and doesn’t wait. You have to take care of the animals in the barn.

Since Yunho was the town’s sheriff earned enough money for the both of you it wasn’t necessary for you to have a huge farm. A couple of pigs, some hens, two horses and a cow was well enough and tending to them was the only labor you ought to do.

You traded your nightgown for a dress more appropriate to work in. A light blue flowy ankle length dress with long sleeves and a high neckline that was going to protect your skin from the hot sun, but would still let you breathe through the light material.

You hoped in your worn out brown leather ankle boots and headed to the barn. First of all, you start by checking if the hens laid eggs, you gently push the chickens to harvest the six eggs and place them in your basket that you set aside then you go to feed the cow. You go to take a big serving of hay and you make a mental note that you’ll have to go by the neighboring farm and purchase some more because you are running out. Maybe the cow and horses have been especially hungry lately.

You place the hay in the big manger and head to the fence to let the cow take a stroll in the prairie next to the house.

As you reach out the fence, you nearly scream. The handle is covered in blood. The colors leave your face as you realize that the traces are fresh as you see one single drop on the dusty floor. You squint and realize there’s a trail of blood going out the barn. You follow the trail circling the barn and landing behind it, the trail disappearing behind tall weeds and bushes that you had left unattended for quite a while.

You pushed aside the leaves and discovered some rags maculated with blood and at the end of the trail a man, lying, his back resting against a small trunk, sitting on a pile of hay. Barely holding off.

Mingi didn't even know why he dragged his mutilated body out here to rot in the sun, he didn't know why he took that chance. He just had to. If he wasn't going to see the sun rise again tomorrow then he at least wanted to see it set on a familiar face. A face he held in his memory so dearly. Even after all these years.

After all this time, when he finally sees it, the face he pulled through thick and thin for. Your face. Your face emerging from the bushes. There are not enough words in the world for him to express the relief he feels. He doesn’t have enough time to carefully curate them and voice them outloud. So he only chooses to smile.

You, on the other hand, felt your heart jumping in your throat, the frantic muscle getting stuck there, making you swallow thickly as your eyes grow in surprise. You have trouble believing your senses. Have you stayed in the sun for too long? Have you contracted yellow fever? Can you trust your eyes, reflecting this image of the past? A figure you thought (and maybe even hoped) you would never see again? But you know your eyes aren’t deceiving you the second his lips curl into a half smile, rounding up only one of his cheeks. The familiar sight takes you back to the hills, to the crackling bonfire, to the starry sky, to the warmth of his orbs. Even if you see the red tint of diluted blood on his teeth and the way pain twits his eyebrows. It’s the same. The same smile you remembered.

“Mingi?” you finally breathe out, broken voice hindered by your heart still sitting in your throat. Barely audible. But still heard by the beaten man.

“Hi doll” his deep voice echoed yours, hardly louder than a whisper.

There’s no resentment, no hatred, no evil in his voice, in his eyes. And for that instant you forget about the endless tales of horrors, about the murders and the blood and you forget about the wolf. Because you see only the sheep, hurt and needing your help.

You throw yourself on your knees next to him, you wrap your arms around him, careful to avoid the wounds.

Mingi closes his eyes and you lean against him as he suppresses a cough. He almost forgot about the smell of your hair, about the warmth of your hands, about the sound of your voice. Almost, but he didn’t. He could never even if he tried. He could lose everything but you. And if you were only a memory then it was all he needed.

***

You brought the man inside, limping and leaning on your side. You sat him in the wooden and creaking chair of the dining room. The tall man grunted as he settled down.

You kneeled next to him. And very carefully, you lifted his long leather coat to uncover the blood maculated shirt.

"So... How does it look doc?" Mingi joked, even going as far as to lightly chuckle before the sharp pain on his side wiped the half smile off his face.

"Let me help you" you said, carefully peeling the fabric off, the coagulated blood stuck to the opened wound, making Mingi wince as he felt the air blow on his sweaty skin. You ran your finger across his skin, carefully avoiding the wound.

Your touch was so soft, so gentle. Mingi sighed, closing his eyes. Your tenderness almost making him forget about the pain jabbing him. It's been so long, so so long since Mingi has felt this. He hasn't felt a soft touch in a lifetime, a contact that was free of any kind of aggression, that didn't demand anything from him, that only intended to soothe him.

It's been so long since he's felt safe.

That was the word. He felt safe. Safe with you even though he was half naked, wounded and unarmed. He felt safe.

You took your time to treat the wound, cleaning it with what you had on hand, which was the rest of a bottle of home distilled bourbon, warm water and clean rags. You patched him up and handed him his hat back.

"You should go, Mingi" you started after a long silence. You tried to conceal the lump inside your throat as you enunciated the heavy words.

Mingi looked up at you, grabbing his hat. He didn't want to go.

"Y/n.. I-"

"You know he might come back. If he finds you here he's gonna..." you hesitated. “Finish the job”

"You mean kill me?" Mingi looked you dead in the eye, a coldness laying latent in his orbs, a coldness that gave you shivers along your spine even with the hot sun heating up the windows of the small dining room.

You closed your eyes shut trying to chase away tears. After all these years and all he’s done. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

Mingi wanted to scream. Why did he get to be with you, to touch you, to lay next to you every night while he was perpetually running, fleeing and living on the edge of the world like a wild dog. Barely surviving on the sole memory of you and the love he felt and feels for you.

"Mingi..." you started hesitantly. You had the chance to ask now, maybe this opportunity would never represent itself again.

"Why did you kiss me that night?"

Mingi’s anger evaporated into smoke as his eyes snapped to you. For all these years he had feared you somehow resented him. That somehow the tales of his life came back to you and poisoned your heart. He feared that you too saw him as the bandit, the outlaw he had become. But there was no hatred in your quavering voice, no bitterness pooling in your orbs. Only incomprehension and sorrow.

Your eyes were glazed over by a sheen of budding tears, drooping in sorrow and you looked up intensely at the man.

You waited for an answer, you waited long enough, you waited for years. And waiting again for those few seconds was too much.

“Why did you kiss me if you were going to leave me Mingi?” this time you called his name. And Mingi felt like the question had wrapped around his heart and was holding it tightly, squeezing it until the agonizing organ gave out.

“What did he tell you?” Mingi finally spoke, tipping his cowboy hat down, making sure to conceal his face.

“What?”

“What did Yunho tell you?” Mingi reiterated, this time his voice broke, echoing the shattering of his heart.

“I-” you started, stuttering.

“I never did any of those things, y/n” he finally rips the hat off his face, the disheveled and sweaty hair adding a layer of urgency to his state of despair as he raises his voice in frustration. “Yunho planted the evidence! He framed me! Because he couldn't stand that I was to become sheriff, he wanted to control the city, he wanted the power and he wanted… you…”

Mingi took a deep breath, his voice softening to a whisper. “He wanted you for himself. Because that night I-... I-” Mingi hesitated as you hung on his lips. “I wanted to marry you, y/n.”

You felt the blood vanish from your face. You became livid and your vision blurred, your world was crumbling before your very eyes.

“This is impossible” you whispered more to yourself than anything else.

“In the morning I told Yunho that I had kissed you and wanted to marry you and he couldn't bear it. So he framed me as a bad man to get me out of your life. I ain't no saint! I know! But the rest of it, I only did because I needed to survive. I stole to feed and killed to defend myself. Never in cold blood. Y/n, you have to believe me!”

Mingi’s words were mushing together barely making any sense in your ears that were already rigging, you felt dizzy, you felt ill. How could that be the man you married? The man you shared your life with. The man that looked at you with the most innocent big round eyes. The man that you knew cherrich justice above all else, so much that he didn’t care that sword of justice he was wielding struck his best friend because he was led astray and that was the treatment reserved for criminals.

But that was all an act. It was never about righteousness and justice, it was about vengeance and envy.

Your knees gave out and you stumbled onto Mingi’s chest. He caught you in time, wrapping his strong arms around you, grunting as you pressed your weight onto the fresh wound.

Your life was collapsing. Your chest started to heave up and down rapidly, your heart racing as your reality faded to black. Nothing to anchor yourself to. Nothing real, nothing you could hold on to to keep yourself afloat. Only lies and smoke. And you fell and fell into panic and into Mingi.

Suddenly you were back again, back from the darkness and you looked at him to find your peace again, both lost in this familiar silence. He protectively wrapped his strong arms around you, and soothingly pressed your head against his chest, the leather of his long coat brushed against your cheek as Mingi held you just like that. He felt his warmth, you heard his heart beating against his ribs and you felt… him. Not the outcast, not the outlaw, but just your friend Mingi.

Ever so gently, with a softness you had never ever known from a man, even your husband, he wrapped his hands made rough from labor around your chin and gently lifted your face upwards, you found that Mingi’s eyes were as deep as the sea, just as mysterious and alluring, strangely welcoming.

And slowly, very slowly Mingi closed the distance between you. Giving you all the time in the world to voice your desire for him to stop if you felt that way. But you didn't want him to stop, instead you gripped at the long coat tighter, somehow afraid that he too was a mirage, a body made of haze that was just another lie. You had to make sure he, at least, was real. True.

And he was.

When your lips connected you felt as if your body has gone up into flames, open fire bursting from your chest to your heart, convincing you to close your eyes, and give complete access to Mingi. But even though he didn’t that use trust to his advantage, he didn't engulfed himself into you. Instead he gently deepened the kiss, taking the time to let you warm up as your fingers relaxed around the worn out leather. Mingi’s hands were getting to know you, caressing the soft cotton of your dress. His rough palms contrasted greatly with the softness of his touch.

Slowly he parted his lips, his tongue gently slipping into your mouth inviting your tongue into a dance, giving a few kitten licks and getting to taste you, you moaned when his hands reached down to the small of your back.

“Mingi” you breathed against his mouth. There was no words to describe what that simple word did to him. Simply his name gently murmured like this. It was like having an angel speaking of the devil's name so fondly, so gently. He didn't feel worthy but there was plenty of time tomorrow for guilt. Today Mingi only had time for you.

He gently laid you back onto the wooden dining table and you hoisted yourself up on your elbows, he leaned over you as his kiss spilled from your lips to your neck. You whined once when your lips mourned the loss of his warmth and once when you felt his hot and wet tongue glide across the thin skin of your neck, you let your head fall back as Mingi progressed further down until he’s met with the collar of your dress. You don't want to lose the way he feels on your skin so your hands quickly busy themselves with the buttons, practically ripping them off to take the thick fabric that separated you from Mingi off you while he watches with this signature half smile, satisfied to see you so eager to expose yourself to him.

As soon as you’re done with buttons he latched on your skin again, sucking on your collar bone going down and then up the curve of your breasts until he reached your bra he swiftly reached around to unclasp it, he drew back to see the way your beautiful breasts spilled out of the article, gently falling over at each side of your chest. Mingi’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes avidly roamed over you, taking your form in.

The way his eyes turned sharp as he looked at you made you squeeze your thigh together as your felt arousal pool into your lower stomach, heat spilling into your underwear.

“So pretty” he murmured before he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, immediately hardening into a tight nub. He flicked his tongue on the erected knob while his warm hand kneaded the other one, perfectly distributing his attention to your body, already feeling sensitive. You arched your back and pushed his face further into your skin when he sucked on the hardened nipple, making your moan his name.

“Fuck- Mingi” you panted. “Don’t stop”

Mingi briefly stood back up to take the long coat off, only harboring the leather vest that let you admire his toned arms flexing as he ripped the coat off to throw it over one of the chairs. He didn't even bother taking the dress off you, only flipping it over your stomach as he pulled down your underpants, leaving your bottom half completely nude.

Suddenly coy you pressed your thighs together, shielding your modesty from his ardent gaze, he looked back up at you with knitted brows, such desperation swimming in his eyes, as if he absolutely needed to see you.

“Please” he exhaled. “Please let me see you, y/n” he pleaded.

And you finally parted your legs, first your feet then your knees and finally your thighs.

“Fuck” Mingi cursed as he palmed his aching lengh throught his pants. He was finally seeing you, like how he imagined you a thousand times. But even the wildest dreams could never live up to that reality, to the truth of you, you were breathtaking. The way your beautiful center was already swollen with need, twitching in anticipation to be touched, your folds covered with the glistening sheen of your juices lazily running down your entrance.

Mingi felt like he’d finally seen the light. Like redemption was within grasp, somehow contained within your holy form. He felt like he needed to worship you, like he needed to get on his knees and so he did.

He kneeled in front of you, snaking his arms around your things and grasping at the supple flesh to pull you closer to him, bringing his lips close to your most private of places.

You felt heat rush to your face and chest as your heart raced, uncontrollably hammering into your chest, menacing to break free anytime as Mingi dug his nose right into your folds.

“Oh my g-” you gasped as soon as he made contact with you. Your head immediately spinning, your core quivering and demanding more.

Mingi planted one soft kiss on your sensitive bundle of nerves, then went to your entrance where he flattened his tongue to swiped it across, spreading your folds and scooping as much as your slick as possible, earning a whimper from you. Mingi wanted more of this, of your sweet taste, more of your honey coating his tongue, more of your beautiful voice singing soft melodies into his ears, more of your beautiful face looking down at him in pleasure, glossy eyes pleading for more.

“Baby” he moaned against you before burying his face into you, flicking his tongue on your clit as you moaned again, louder this time. Mingi concentrated on this part of you, assaulting your clit with flicks after flicks, jolts after jolts of divine pleasure, spreading heat in all of your limbs. Mingi felt your thighs tense up in his hold and he suddenly let go.

You whined as you felt your desperate center throb for more of him. You looked up at him right on time to see him sink not one but two long fingers inside your tight heat. Immediately curling them into your sweet spot. Your eyes rolled back to the back of your head, once again you let out a lewd sound that bounces off the walls making the hairs on Mingi’s nape stand and his length leak arousal.

“You like that?” he asked, deep voice a little more impatient.

“Yes!” you exhaled. “Please more, more” you begged, your eyes coming back into focus.

“Of course, doll” he said before coming back down to your demanding center. He pumped his long fingers in and out of your heat, each time your eager little cunt pulled them back inside, tightly gripping around them. He wrapped his tongue around your clit, sucking and licking until you were on the verge of your release.

“Please” you said, your hand flying between your legs to keep Mingi’s face exactly where it was. “Don’t stop” you breathed, your thighs tensing, your swollen clit pulsing under Mingi’s wet and hot tongue.

“Fuck” you said, pressing on his face a little harder which made him smirk agaisnt you. “I'm cumming” you said in a strangled moan, you legs trembling your orgasming center gushing more and more of your honey , completely quenching Mingi’s thirst for your sweet nectar, walls fluttering around his fingers as he guided you down.

Mingi hurriedly kicked his pants off him and stood between your legs, large cock resting heavily in his palm, the head made red and shiny with precum.

“Please give me another one of those” he whispered with edginess, deep voice strained with need. “I wanna see and hear that again.” he rubbed his cock against your folds, mixing both of your essences into one, drenching his length with your slick. “Please this time cum on my cock” he gently pushed his tip inside you, closing his eyes shut as he felt your walls fluttering around his cock head, finishing your previous orgasm around his cock, your pretty little pussy pulsing around him as he continued to push himself in, breathing heavily to keep himself from bursting on the spot.

“Fuck” he cried, finally peeling his eyes open. “You feel so good around me baby” he breathed. “You’re so pretty, so perfect” he praised you. Taking a good look at you. You were stunning, beads of sweat running down your temples, your breasts spilling from the half undone dress, said dress completely wrinkled and roughed up, not hiding anything away from him anymore.

“Ok” you said, out of breath, pushing a dampened strand of hair away from your face. “Make me cum around your cock, Mingi” you said, spreading your legs even wider, giving Mingi an even better view of his cock splitting you in two.

“Fuck-” Mingi cursed again, immediately taking you up on the offer. He started to pull out only to push back in again, just as gently. The way his girth split you open made you moan his name. You whimpered at the delicious stretch of your walls accommodating his generous mengh as he filled you up to the brim so perfectly almost like you were made for him entirely.

“Please harder, Mingi” you said, your fingers pulling into the leather cropped vest, where you could see from underneath his toned abs and belly button.

“Of course, doll” he said as he picked the pace, a wince of pleasure sneaking on his face when you gripped even tighter around him, letting out a satisfied groan.

With each powerful thrust he was grazing against your g spot making your moan and arch your back, pushing your hips into him everytime he pushed himself back in.

“Fuck you’re so good to me baby” he panted, a large bead of sweat running from his hairline along the bridge of his sharp and long noze.

You only replied with more moans, growing louder and louder as you both fucked each other, rocking the dining table recklessly the sound of your skin clashing and filling up the space along with groans and grunts.

“Baby, I'm close” Mingi said in a strangled and high pitched moan that was far from the usual deep voice he used.

“Me too” you answered “Please inside” you struggled to make sense. “Please cum inside me”

You didnt care about the consequences right now, moreover you weren't even thinking about them. You only thought about Mingi deep inside of you giving you the raw, rough unfiltered love you have been needing for years. Ever since he kissed you back on the hills. And suddenly you were back at the hilltop again.

Your body started to shake as you came undone again as Mingi delivered large and thick ropes of burning cum inside your heat, your name slipping off his lips a thousand times. Both of your bodies going up in flames, throwing each other in the fire that lighted you both as he kissed you again.

You pulsed uncontrollably around him, as he became sloppy, his thrusts more shallow and irregular until they came to a stop. He crashed over your body, panting, chest heaving up and down as you stroked his hair. He stayed inside you for a while, his cum lazily dripping out of you. He didn't want to lose this connection with you, he wanted to stay right there. Right here with you.

***

“Come with me” Mingi said as he was ready to hop on one of your horses, as the sun was setting over the fields.

“Mingi I-” you started.

“Forget about him” Mingi cut you off before you have a chance to mention your husband's name. He took your hands into his big and rough ones. “Come back with me to the hills, y/n” he said. You opened your mouth to speak again but Mingi didn't let you talk. He was afraid of your answer. “We won't have much but we will have each other. And if I have you then I have everything” he pressed his chest against yours and you heard his heart beat into your ear, testifying of his true feelings, much deeper than any words.

This was your chance to let the deceiving lies behind to embrace a life of true love. And you took your chance. As you hoped on the horse right behind Mingi, leaving the empty house behind. You held onto him, your fingers found their way and intertwining with the leather again as you rode into the sunset, lifting the dry dirt in your wake. The stars finally crossing as your destinies took the same path. The sun meeting you on the horizon, inviting you with it.

Two star crossed lovers on the sun.

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a/n: phewww it is done! i cant even begin to explain the STRUGGLE i had while writing this but i hope it turned out good? maybe? it was wayyyy out of my comfort zone if you liked it please tell me in the comments or reblog (pls don't use the community labels please) or leave a nice ask. that would mean so much <3. anyways thank you for the awesome collab anne @ssaboala. don't forget to check out the other authors' amazing fics here. byeee~

#ateez smut #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez mingi #ateez #kpop smut #mingi #mingi hard thoughts #mingi hard hours #ateez angst #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #mingi fanfic #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #mingi x you #smut fanfiction

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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year ago

Text

I Found My Love in Portofino

Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader

Also on AO3

Summary: Despite your promise to stay away, the lure of Portofino -- and who you might find there -- is too irresistible. Part 2 to The Black Kaiser's Nightmare

WC: 5.3k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), enemies to lovers speedrun into the bed, semi-public sex, mentions of violence, play fighting, breaking shit all over the place, abundant cursing, rough sex (unprotected, don't do it at home!), angst (but there’s a happy ending dw), I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

You are responsible for your own media consumption!

------

Sunshine, a gorgeous view, and the fragrant smell of the sea. What more could you possibly need?

Some dignity, perhaps.

But maybe you’d lost all of it on the other side of the world almost a year ago, buried under many layers of snow. Along with one too many promises you weren’t certain you could keep.

Then again, you’d desperately wanted a vacation somewhere warm, hadn’t you? And Portofino was beautiful that time of year, undeniably so. It was nearly impossible to resist its allure.

All you had to do was keep to yourself and not let your eyes wander in search of a familiar silhouette. Eat some amazing food, drink some great wine, and maybe brush up on your Italian. Nothing else. How hard could it be, really?

A few days had already passed with no issues, but at all times, there was the slightest prickle of awareness at the back of your neck. But still, you didn’t search.

At least you were slowly building a nice tan, which was long overdue. You’d spent most of your days at the beach, alternating between dips in the ocean and sprawling out on a towel to air dry. It was as close as you’d gotten to true peace in a long time.

Sometimes, when the waves rolled over you, they felt like a lover’s embrace. Powerful and all-consuming, right on the verge of being agonizing. The familiarity of this feeling and these sudden romantic notions were irritating, but you were always a creature of incandescent want. A fatal flaw, most likely.

When the sun began to set, hunger was the only thing that could pull you away. You’d found a place that you liked, which was perhaps a little too pricey, but the view was unbeatable and the food was definitely worth coming back for. On top of that, you felt like you deserved to spoil yourself at least a little bit.

You sat at your usual table, a salty breeze tussling your hair. A passing waiter smiled and nodded at you, already knowing your order. You smiled back, pushing your sunglasses atop your head.

The world was awash in golden light, the waves glittering like a dream in which swimmers basked. For a moment, as you stared off into the middle distance, your mind was blissfully blank. Not a worry to ruin things.

But then suddenly…

“Your champagne, signorina,” a voice said as an empty flute was set on the table. “And may I just add… you look ravishing when you are so relaxed. It really does suit you.”

You whipped around immediately, eyes widening and heart thumping like a war drum.

“You!” You hissed through clenched teeth, gripping your dinner knife.

Duncan, disguised as a waiter, smiled at you impishly as he poured the champagne. He was the picture of calm, unbothered by the real threat of another stab from you.

“I know you must’ve missed me terribly, but let’s not make a scene now,” he said easily. “I suppose your busy schedule had an opening after all?”

“I happen to like Italy, if you have to know,” you huffed, grabbing the flute and taking a sip. “I told you I wasn’t going to look for you, and I didn’t. You found me.”

“You made it rather easy, but I let you have a few days.”

You gestured at his attire. “And this is how you chose to approach. Real sneaky of you.”

His grin only broadened. “What can I say? I wanted to serve you.”

Annoyance flared to life inside of you, but it was paired with a familiar feeling that made you tightly cross your legs. You pursed your lips for a moment, but you didn’t really want to give him the satisfaction of seeing he was getting to you.

Instead, you leaned back in your chair with an equally sly grin and said, “So do it, then. You can only keep me waiting for so long…”

He nodded once, straightening up. “Right away. I’ll be back in a moment.”

As he walked away, your body relaxed and you let out a long exhale. Running a hand down your face in frustration, you chastised yourself again for not steeling your will more in the time you were apart. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t watching you and slumped in your chair.

A few restless minutes passed as you waited, but still he didn’t return. You drummed your fingers on the table as your impatience grew into frustration. Then you figured, this was probably his plan, right? To try and get under your skin as much as possible, make up for lost time. It definitely seemed to be his favorite activity. Or one of them, at least.

Fuck it. Who said you couldn’t retaliate just a little bit?

You downed the champagne in one go, perhaps for courage, perhaps just because you needed a reason to justify your recklessness. Standing, you made your way inside under the pretense of going to the restroom. You hadn’t really planned what you were going to do, but still you wandered by the kitchen.

From what you could see, he wasn’t there, which made you frown in confusion. It wasn’t a big establishment, so there weren’t many places where he could be. Half-dejected, you walked into the single-stall bathroom… and immediately the door slammed shut behind you, lock clicking into place.

Before you could process anything, strong arms enveloped you, pulling you against a solid chest. Duncan put a finger to his lips in a motion for silence, right before he threw himself on you, claiming your mouth. You practically melted against him, any sort of animosity you held forgotten for a moment.

But then, when the shock passed, you kissed him back roughly. You tugged at his hair and bit his bottom lip, letting him retaliate by pressing you against the wall, as if punishing both him and yourself for caving so easily to your desires.

“Already breaking promises, huh?” he said between kisses, chuckling as your hands briskly tried to undo his pants.

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “Or I’m gonna put your mouth to better use this time.”

“That reminds me…”

Abruptly, he gathered you in his arms and set you on the edge of the sink. He kneeled in front of you, reaching past the edge of your sundress and tugging loose the strings of your bikini bottom.

“I did say I would serve you,” he grinned, scooting closer and placing your legs on his shoulders. “Let’s see if you’ll be able to keep quiet now.”

You couldn’t keep your chest from heaving as he fully removed the fabric, tossing it to one side. He kissed his way up your inner thigh, his scruff lightly tickling the sensitive flesh. You suppressed a small shudder, readjusting your position.

As his tongue dipped directly into the source of your ache — the best way to properly savor you — you held onto his head with one hand and gripped the edge of the sink with the other. He groaned, breath hot against you, and trailed his tongue up to your clit.

He guided himself by your reactions — the small spasms of your muscles, your hitching breaths and the subtle hums of your concealed moans. He barely came up for air, content with the possibility of asphyxiation if it meant he’d never get the taste of you out of his mouth.

The precise, relentless way in which he pleased you nearly drove you to madness. His tongue circled around your clit slowly, almost teasingly, but whenever you were about to voice his frustration, he did the complete opposite to keep you on the edge. You looked down and met his gaze for a moment, fire burning in his eyes. The intensity of it made your pussy clench around his fingers, which he’d just added into the mix.

Your back arched, head resting against the mirror behind you. Your eyes were closed in bliss, knees drawing together around his head as you felt the beginning of an orgasm forming.

“Yes…” you sighed. “Yes! Right there!”

And that was all he needed to hear to ramp up the intensity further. Your body trembled, sweat-slick hand almost slipping off the porcelain. Your spine arched further, as if possessed, and a ragged moan escaped you as you came undone. Pleasure felt electric as it swept over you, and he moaned along with you as he helped you ride it out all the way.

As you were left panting heavily, limbs still shaky, he pulled back to look at you and licked his lips. You brought your legs off his shoulders and he stood in order to undo his pants, the hard imprint of his cock straining against the fabric almost painfully. Once it was free, he spat in his hand and stroked himself to spread the saliva.

“Get inside me,” you pleaded quietly, urging him closer, eyes still shiny with want. “Please, fuck, I need you inside me.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist this time and he guided himself into you slowly. He muttered your name under his breath as he bottomed out, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the way he seemed to fully envelop you. The heat emanating from him, his smell flooding your nostrils, and even the stretch of him inside you was divine… But you weren’t able to dwell on these thoughts as he began to move.

His large hands held you up by your hips as he pounded into you, no longer holding back. It seemed he had missed you just as much, and all he could do was make up for lost time.

He leaned down once more to kiss you as it became harder for you to contain your noises. More of your weight, combined with his, was leaning on the sink by then. As he hit that spot inside you that made your body jerk, you heard a crack.

You tried to ignore it for a moment as his movements turned erratic, grip tightening on your skin. He grunted with each thrust, snapping his hips roughly as you clawed at his shoulders.

Then his whole body tensed, and he pressed all the way into you in one final thrust. The sound that left him was nearly animalistic as he spilled his release inside of you… and it was at that moment that the sink gave out completely.

The porcelain loudly shattered against the linoleum floor as it broke off the wall. The newly exposed pipe gushed water, the puddle quickly spreading. Duncan caught you in his arms before you could fall as well, stumbling a little as he adjusted his position.

“Shit, that was my bad…” he panted. “I got a little carried away.”

The two of you dissolved into a fit of nervous laughter as the reality of the situation really settled in. Reflexively, you had wrapped your arms around his neck, your faces close together.

You could feel his pulse was just as hurried as yours, both of you still coming down from your highs. You avoided prolonged eye contact as you drew away with an amused grin, smacking his arm.

“Real smooth, breaking shit on your first day on the job,” you said.

He started to laugh, but suddenly, there was loud knocking on the door. A voice called in Italian to ask if everything was okay, the doorknob jiggling to no avail. You and Duncan looked at each other in a millisecond of panic before hastily starting to re-dress.

“Fuck, we have to get out of here,” you hissed as he helped you onto your feet, holding you for a moment as your legs wobbled. “Can’t we have a reunion where we don’t wreak havoc for once?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head as he buttoned up his pants. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, intent on assessing your options. The banging at the door didn’t stop, and you figured soon enough they’d get a key to open it. There was a window that seemed large enough for you to fit through, but you weren’t sure Duncan’s large frame would make the cut.

“One moment please! Everything’s fine!” You yelled back before turning to Duncan and lowering your voice. “I just realized I forgot my stuff out there.”

“I’ll go get it,” he said, ushering you towards the window and handing you your bikini bottoms. “I’ll meet you outside.”

You nodded, appreciative and just slightly flustered at the idea of having to sneak out commando while you were still holding in his… Well, that was probably the least of your worries at that very moment. One thing at a time.

“Try to leave them some money, too. We’ve done enough damage.”

He snorted. “Just wait ‘til we get to the hotel.”

You bit back your retort and instead focused on climbing out of the window without leaving a snail trail. Glancing around to make sure you were alone, you made your way to the front of the restaurant surreptitiously. Twice you had to stop and hide as you neared passerby, still jittery with adrenaline.

It was a thrill that felt both agonizing and yet somehow very arousing. You waited in a side alley, clamping your thighs together as you leaned against the wall. You just hoped Duncan wouldn’t get himself in deeper shit and take more drastic measures. He wasn’t charming enough to get out of trouble with just words, as you were well aware.

Finally, he emerged from the restaurant after what seemed like forever, dressed in casual clothes. You lifted your arm so he could see where you were, and he hurried over.

“How did you—” you began to ask, but you were interrupted by him clasping your wrist and dragging you away.

“Don’t ask,” he said. “But just so you know, I did get a couple of high-fives on my way out.”

—————————-

As it turned out, Duncan had been staying at the hotel next to yours. You had to stop to get his luggage first since he’d checked out of his room that morning, already having assumed he’d be staying with you.

You’d raised your eyebrows and scoffed at his overconfidence. Of course, you should’ve expected something like that to happen, but you’d been too caught up on whether you’d actually run into him or not.

The casualness between you felt strange, particularly given your history. He was definitely more at ease than he’d been a year ago, but uneasiness was like second nature to you. Sure, you were enjoying this new dynamic with him so far, but you weren’t sure how far was too far.

Fucking was one thing, but being on vacation together… You shook your spiraling thoughts out of your head as you led him through your hotel and up to your room. One thing at a time.

“And what would you have done if I decided not to give you the time of day?” You asked as you swiped the keycard to your room. “Sleep on a bench somewhere?”

“Oh please, haven’t I proven to be irresistible?” He said, tilting his head to the side as he smiled slyly.

“Yeah, well, I’m not covering the hotel costs for both of us, just so you know.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he wasn’t actually offended. “I can pay you with my body, that should be more than enough.”

You bit down an amused grin and said nothing, instead turning on the lights and showing him where he could put his stuff. He set it all down without real care as you began undressing, making him freeze on the spot.

But you weren’t trying to seduce him, at least not then, for there was only one thing on your mind. Your skin felt sticky with sea salt and sweat, your hair was all tangled by the wind, and there was still that little problem between your legs to take care of.

“Care to rinse off, then? I know I need to,” you said, casually stepping into the bathroom. “Shower’s got room for two.”

You got in before hearing his response, starting by washing your hair under the stream of hot water. As you were rinsing off the shampoo, eyes closed, you heard him get in. Your other senses were all too aware of his nearness, making you jump a little at an unexpected touch on your hand.

When you were able to open your eyes again, you saw he was washing himself. The way the soap suds slid down his muscles made you swallow hard, and he was smiling deviously when you moved to let him rinse off. He sighed with contentment at the water’s warmth, slicking his hair back, and you couldn’t help but keep ogling him.

Maybe he wasn’t so wrong about being irresistible… He really was beautiful.

When he turned around, you quickly averted your gaze and reached for the bar of soap, but he shook his head. “Allow me.”

He lathered some soap between his hands, taking it upon himself to wash your body. He kept eye contact as he started with your shoulders and arms, moving slowly but purposefully. Your limbs were loose as you let him keep going, adjusting you this way and that so he didn’t miss a spot.

Even as he reached more sensitive areas, his touch was tender rather than lascivious. Looking at the scars on each other was like a trip down memory lane, but it wasn’t a bitter remembrance. In fact, you felt yourself softening, almost vulnerable. So much stubbornness, so much time wasted, but it all had somehow led to such an intimate moment.

When he was done, you rewarded him with a soft kiss, more chaste than anything you’d had so far. You shut off the water and both of you got out to dry off quietly. It felt like talking might burst the bubble of… whatever feeling the two of you were so precariously sharing at that moment.

An idea struck you then, and you discarded your towel somewhere along the way. He watched as you opened the sliding doors to the private balcony, the faint light silhouetting you.

Up there, the faint roar of the ocean could still be heard. It was moonlight’s turn to glitter in the dark waves, but you put your back to the view as you gave him an inviting look.

Truth be told, you wanted to indulge in him as much as you could. A sense of urgency accompanied your arousal, like the opportunity might not come around again. Was it a sign? Could it be fate’s way of making you say goodbye?

The thought scared you more than you were willing to admit, so you decided to be mindless once again. You let the sea breeze envelop you once again, but soon after his arms took place, drawing you into his warmth. He searched your face for something, but you averted your gaze as you ran your hands up and down his chest.

“You’re quiet,” he noted. “You haven’t even threatened to kill me at least once since we got here.”

You shrugged, going on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. “Does it matter?”

“Well, you know the violence is what gets me going…” he said with a smirk, but you could still see some concern in his eyes.

You kissed his bottom lip enticingly, returning the smirk. “Let’s tear each other apart, then. For good this time.”

And so he cupped the back of your head and crushed his lips against yours. The kiss was sloppy and desperate, tongues dragging against each other. You reached between your bodies to touch him, fingers grazing the velvety underside of his hardening cock.

For a moment he lost himself to your touch, mindlessly chasing your lips as you withdrew, teasing him. You stroked the head with the tips of your fingers, and his hips bucked in search of more friction.

“Not gonna be so easy now,” you chastised playfully. “Gotta earn your stay.”

He gripped your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. His free hand roamed up your chest, splaying over your sternum and feeling your quickening heartbeat. He bent down to kiss your neck and collarbones, humming in fiendish delight as he heard your soft moan.

“You little devil,” he murmured. “You should know I won’t make it easy for you either.”

And so commenced a battle for dominance, in which the two of you did not play fair. You practically tackled him back onto the sunbed, frantically trying to pin his arms down. Your thighs pressed against his sides tightly, holding him in place.

He had a great view of you from that angle, so he got easily distracted, his struggles weakening. But just when you thought you had him, he suddenly grabbed your wrists and managed to flip you under him. You blinked up at him in momentary surprise, but then scoffed.

Your legs and arms wrapped around him as you tried to crush him in a bear hug. You felt his erection pressed against your abdomen, and he grunted with the effort of trying to wriggle from your grasp.

Despite the exertion from wrestling each other, you found yourself smiling, genuinely having a good time. Your cheeks were flushed and you were panting heavily. He kissed all over your face, perhaps in an attempt to distract you, but you gave in amiably for the time being.

“Where’s your knife now?” He murmured against your skin, taunting, his breath close to your ear.

But instead of responding, you pulled his head back by the hair and brought your lips to his. Your other hand rested on his throat, like a silent threat, but it was just a little too tender to actually be one.

The stars wheeled across the sky unnoticed, as the two of you were too wrapped up in a frenzy of desire, all restraints loosened. Eager hands and eager mouths, the violent delicacy of your bodies curled around each other like snakes. Everything else truly ceased to exist.

Not much of the hotel room was spared either, lamps knocked over, framed artwork half shattered on the floor, and different things haphazardly strewn about. At last, the bed became the lion’s den, where the last of the raging fire simmered out, leading into a sated slumber.

You awoke before him, too restless from an influx of dreams you couldn’t make heads or tails of. The early morning had a melancholic blue tint to it, barely illuminating the room. You watched him for a moment, trying to burn him into memory as you followed the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Keeping your thoughts at bay was becoming harder by the minute, especially wrapped up in his warmth and his smell. Suddenly, you couldn’t bear being in the bed anymore. You left a featherlight kiss on his shoulder before sliding out as quietly as you could. A certain bitterness slid down the back of your throat as you gathered clothes, padding over to the bathroom and dressing mechanically.

Any sort of logic or reasoning seemed to have left you as well, since you were prepared to flee with just what you were wearing. In that moment, you believed perhaps you could outrun the consequences, and yourself in the process.

But just as you opened the bathroom door and took one step out, you heard the clicking drag of metal and felt the coolness of it closing in around your wrist. You looked down to find yourself handcuffed to Duncan, who was only partially dressed. He looked at you intensely, knowingly even, pinning you in place. Your heart leaped to your throat, stopping any words you might want to say.

“I told you I wouldn’t make it easy either,” he said, his voice devoid of any humor.

He reached out with his free hand, but you weaved away from it like a skittish stray dog that’d been kicked too many times in its life. Your immediate response was a punch that he took in stride. In fact, he let you try and shove him, although the handcuffs would take you along with him. Your frustration only grew, and this time fighting him was different, more desperate – like a cornered animal.

“When are you going to stop fighting your desires?” He asked firmly, seizing your other wrist. “You can’t just run away this time. You owe me that much.”

“Duncan, please,” you said softly, looking down.

“Please, what?” He pressed.

“Why are we kidding ourselves?” You sighed. “We’re just horny and really fucking lonely…and I guess it helps that we understand each other. But we both know it can’t go beyond that.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t exactly have a profession that allows commitment…” you said, but he only stared, forcing you to continue. “What if they decided to assign us to kill each other?”

“I would gladly fake my death for you.”

You pursed your lips, forcing down the tears that once again crawled up your throat. Damn him and the way he made butterflies flutter around your stomach!

“But I won’t let it come to that,” he added. “I’ve already decided to retire early.”

You looked up at him in disbelief, eyes wide. “Really? Just like that?”

“Well I’ve wanted out for some time, but you kind of… helped me make up my mind,” he said, searching your eyes to try and solve the riddle of your feelings.

“And you thought, what? That I would quit too?”

He shook his head. “No. What you do is up to you. All I want is a quiet life, and to settle in one place so you’ll always know where I am.”

“Okay, and what if I have to be gone for a long time? Won’t you get lonely?” You asked, a painful spasm in your chest as you thought about it further. “What if you meet someone else? I mean, hell, I don’t even really know what it is you want with me…”

He frowned, truly unable to fathom your stubbornness. “Are you fucking serious right now? We’re handcuffed together. Do I have to spell it out further?”

Again, you sighed in frustration, closing your eyes for a moment. You hadn’t felt such a strong connection with someone in a long time, especially since you believed you were better off alone. Those you were close to could invariably become collateral, and that was one thing you simply couldn’t stomach.

And when you’d said that you understood each other, that had been the truth. Not many – if anyone at all – that weren’t in the business could understand your lifestyle. The guilt that came in waves, threatening to pull you under. The sleepless nights, the mastery of clinical detachment, the constant need to hide and stay vigilant. It was certainly not easy, but you’d simply gotten used to it over time.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t tired of living that way. Still, you hesitated, feeling yourself toe closer to the edge of the cliff.

“What if it’s just the excitement?” You asked, opening your eyes once more.

“It’s been years now… if it had died out, so would we,” he sighed, seeming a little aggrieved. “Or what? You don’t believe love and violence intersect?”

“Love!” You gasped, all pretenses shattered now that one of you had finally said that word. “That’s…”

“Is that what scares you most?”

After a moment’s hesitation, where you fidgeted uncomfortably, you shook your head. “I’m barely evenly acquainted with it, but it’s enough for me to know it doesn’t prevent someone from leaving.”

He nodded once in understanding, not having an argument for that. “And you think I’m an expert on it?”

You shrugged, not entirely sure of his romantic history. Still, you could at least tell that it had not been kind to him either. He pulled you closer, lacing his fingers through yours as if the cuffs weren’t enough to keep you.

“Despite it all, haven’t we inevitably found a way back to each other? Sure, the flame that kept drawing us at first might have been hatred, but pettiness could only take us so far…” He straightened so you could appraise him better, gesturing to himself. “I proudly wear the scars you have given me, and I would welcome many more.”

Your vision became blurry all of a sudden, though you couldn’t understand why. At least not until you felt a tear streaming down your cheek, which you wiped away defiantly. He rested his chin atop your head as you leaned against his arm, not looking at him.

“And if you think I will break your heart, what guarantee do I have you won’t break mine first?”

“You don’t,” you admitted honestly, which maybe was the whole point.

“And yet, it is still yours to break.”

You chuckled, but it sounded more like a choked sob. “You’re killing me, old man. What am I to do with so much?”

“You don’t have to carry it all on your own,” he said, bringing his free hand to your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

His expression was fully unguarded, like an open book for you to read. There was a vast depth there that seemed to invite you to uncover it, should you actually take the chance.

And beneath it all, a most desperate hope. One you could recognize, for you had seen it in your own eyes before. It struck you like an arrow, knocking the breath out of you.

One of the deadliest men on Earth utterly undone by one of the most common afflictions — that of the heart. Love.

It was a gift, a real promise beyond what words could express.

And so, you decided to let yourself fall.

The words left you before you could stop them. “I’m going to retire, too.”

He blinked in surprise, but you barreled on. “It’s not a life I want to keep living. It’s not life at all, really. I was just never really sure if there was anything else for me. But now, nothing is waiting for me out there anymore… I have all I want standing right here next to me.”

Oh, how his eyes brightened at your words. Like the sun rising over the horizon, bringing a new dawn. He wiped your damp cheeks, even if a smile had already spread across your face. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest like a caged bird as he kissed you. It was sweet and unhurried, the culmination of all the yearning and long-repressed desire.

“And what happens now?” You asked softly.

“Anything we want. The world is our oyster,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “You know, there are lots of beautiful chapels around here.”

You scoffed. “Be serious right now!”

“I am being serious.”

You smacked his arm and rolled your eyes, but still felt a swell of giddiness in your chest. “Don’t push your luck, old geezer”

“Can you please come back to bed now? We really should get more sleep,” he said, tugging you along with him.

“Can you at least uncuff us first?”

“No.”

----

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