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[heich0e]

Are you tired of being nice? don't you just wanna go apeshit?

(i think that’s how the meme goes)

HAHA yknow what i thought about this recently but ultimately came to the conclusion that i will never regret being kind but i will most likely regret being mean, even if i know that what i'm saying is justified!! and at the end of the day i will always be happier knowing that i was nice or just not engaging. a gal's gotta protect her peace yknow!!

[harringtonstudios]

best friend’s ex. (II)

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away, but it seems impossible.

A/N: i’m weak for this au what can i say.... hope everyone’s staying safe and enjoying the new songs!! pls give me feedback it fuels me on <3

masterlist!  part I.

Waking up to an warm arm wrapping tightly around your side isn’t normal. In far, it’s so far out of your daily routine, that for a second, you close your eyes again, will yourself to actually get up from the diluted dreamscape you seem to be in.

The same sight greets you the second time around, tuft of blonde hair resting on your chest on top of the white blanket that covers you both. There’s a head attached and it takes you a minute to place everything together before you feel yourself dry swallowing.

The Sahara Desert resides in your mouth, lines up on your tongue and you close your lips together at the uncomfortable feeling of a hangover crawling around you.

Colson Baker.

He’s still asleep, you can tell by the slow rise and fall of his body where it lies basically attached to yours. Why his head is tucked right under your chin, you can’t really explain, just like you can’t quite figure out why you’ve let this happen.

Attempting to shift a little, you hear a soft sound fall out from his lips, see his head move against the haven it rests on. Your chest feels heavy, not just cause of his added weight, but the intent behind it.

The sunlight in his room is filtering through the cracks between his dark curtains. You follow the trail of golden as it creeps over his wooden floor, tilts into the grooves of his floorboards, slides up the white walls.

It’s probably been a minute since you’ve been up, maybe two, but it feels like forever, stuck in this awful limbo.

Your phone starts ringing, tinny and harsh against the beacon of peace you’ve built up for yourself. It startles you enough that you automatically reach out to your side, only to meet empty space. This isn’t your bedroom, the table by your head isn’t there, and you have no idea where your phone is.

The ringtone does enough to wake Colson up. He grunts out something before shifting completely off of you, collapsing back into the mattress. His head is still lower than the various pillows on his bed, but he seems content, face relaxed against the sheets.

You take it in for a millisecond, trace your eyes over his parted pink lips, the faint hint of a scar prepped up between his eyebrows, the flutter of his lashes. 

Not yours, the warning sign shouts. Get away.

Your phone is still ringing when you slide off of his bed, wearing nothing, hastily wrapping the blanket around yourself. He shifts on the bed again, and you watch the way his hand reaches out, down to pull at something that isn’t even there. Your chest tightens again, but he’s just mumbling, sleep dazed and his eyes don’t open.

When you reach your phone, somehow it’s ended up across the room, hidden under your jeans from last night, you’ve had five missed calls.

Domi’s name flashes on your screen, followed by a battery warning and you hiss at the predicament you’ve put yourself in. You quickly text her, a simple: Safe. Will be home soon, with someone.

You don’t specify it past that, try to leave it as open-ended as you can. She’s going to dig, claw her way to the truth, but for now, there’s other things to worry about.

There’s a charger plugged next to his bed and you move over, still clutching his blanket as you bend down to attach your phone to it, satisfied as it slightly buzzes, muttering out “Fuck yeah.”

“Good morning to you too,” replies Colson, his voice deeper, twinged with hours of sleep and the lingering effects of vodka.

You straighten up, awkwardly smile at him, feeling very warm trapped between his feather downs. He smiles back, but lets his fingers rub at closing eyes.

“Where are my clothes?” he asks. It’s only then that you actually look at him fully in bed. He’s just as naked as you, bare and on display and you blush at his lack of modesty. It’s not unusual, even when Domi was dating him, you’d been mooned enough times to recognize his ass in a line up, but it feels intimate now.

“I have no idea,” you mumble, shifting your eyes away as he stretches his arms. He takes in the sight of you, the blanket loosely hanging over your body, the way your fingers clutch at it like a life preserver, saving you from something you can’t bare to name.

“Are you-?” he starts, but you cut him off nodding quickly. This doesn’t have to be a discussion, you don’t want this to be a discussion.

“Look I’ll just get my stuff and then be out of your way,” you rush out, eager to get back to a sense of normalcy. You’ve had one night stands before, you can handle this.

“No breakfast?” he mumbles and his eyes are lighting up, mischievous in the faint morning light.

“I’d rather starve,” you mutter, turning around to walk back to where your discarded skinny jeans lay.

“Oh c’mon, I know you better than that. We can get waffles or something?” he tries again and you hear him shuffling around as you awkwardly pull on jeans. It’s uncomfortable, you have no idea where your underwear is but at least you’re clothed, which is better than Colson.

“Domi likes waffles. I’m a pancake kinda girl,” you retort, antsy to prove something. He doesn’t know you, not as well as he claims to. Instead he’s mixing up the fragments of your best friend into you, swirling two different people together to create the one he wants.

“Right,” it’s dry, dying halfway in his throat. The silence in the room grows amidst the white noise of his air conditioner.

Picking up your shirt from the corner of his room, you pull it on, awkwardly adjusting it before balling up his blanket and walking over to drop it on his bed.

“Cover up your dick man,” you blurt out, hands running through the tangles in your hair, head jerking slightly at the pull.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” he smirks and you urge to wack him hard, maybe with one of his own weirdly soft pillows.

He reaches down into the drawers crammed under his bed, pulls out a pair of shorts and shuffles into them laughing at his own joke.

You do hit him then, pick up the nearest pillow, sheathed in that same silk pillowcase as the rest before throwing it his way.

He dodges it before flipping you off and the memory of it bites, nights spent throwing things at each other, the guys all egging you two on. Domi used to scoff whenever it started, yell about being childish and irritating, but you secretly knew she enjoyed it too, watched her boyfriend and best friend fight like old friends.

You snap out of it just as fast as you fell in, a pillow coming straight to hit you in the face.

“Colson!” you shout, hand going up to rub the impacted area as he smiles.

“Not sorry,” he simply shrugs and you scoff at him, push off the bed you’d sat on after the collision and go over to where he’s standing, reaching for your phone.

He blocks your hand, shifts over so that’s he standing right in your line of sight, eclipsing any further view. All you see is him, smirk permanently resting on his lips, array of colors bursting on his skin, faint whispers of something hidden in his eyes.

“My phone,” you try unceremoniously, knowing that he won’t let you past him.

“Do breakfast with me,” he demands, but its soft, a plea more than a request.

You sigh, it’s audible and you know he hears it by the slight sag of his shoulders but he’s relentless.

“It’s just like old times, won’t be weird,” he states and you find yourself laughing at his words.

“We both know that’s not true,” you say, eyes lifting up to meet his. There’s a hardness to his gaze and a part of you wants to break through it, dive in headfirst.

But this is not your territory, not your person, not your place. Domi’s etched into his soul, written somewhere, dipped into his past and no matter what you want, there is no feasible way you can be his present without ruining a friendship.

“It’s just pancakes,” he emphasizes, but he’s stepping aside all the same, letting you bend over and grab your phone.

When you turn back around, he has a shirt on, hair ruffled worse than it was when he woke up. It’s sticking up at ends and you fight the urge to walk over, laugh and pat it down.

He’s aimlessly searching for his own phone and you spot it on the windowsill, go over to pick it up and hand it off to him, murmuring, “Okay.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles out and you can’t tell whether it’s for offering his breakfast invitation or finding his phone.

You hesitate a second too long and he gives you a pointed look and then you’re moving into his space, crowding against his front.

His hands automatically fall onto your waist, pull you in but you can the confusion flickering across his face.

“Hey,” he softly says and something breaks in you.

It’s surprisingly easy to kiss him again, to drink in those lips, still warm from the early morning haze, softer than they were last night. There’s that now familiar ringing bell in the back of your head, but it disappears as Colson’s tongue slips into your mouth.

There’s obvious morning breath mingling with rank tastebuds and as much as you want to recoil, you don’t know if you’ll ever let this happen again so you soak it in, let the feeling overwhelm you.

Your fingers travel up to his messy hair, soothingly pulling at the strands in order to attempt tampering them down. He lets out a tiny groan as your nails slightly scratch at his scalp. You push further into him, fall enough that it seems like the only thing holding you up is him.

The door slams open just as you’re getting into it, leaning heavily against Colson’s body as he props himself on the wall.

The sound is enough to make you jump back, and there’s the confused look back on his face as you hastily wipe at your lips.

“You’re still here,” a voice stresses the syllables out, and you eye Rook standing there. He’s dressed, complete with that one snapback that seems to be permanently attached to his head, but the scowl on his face is all you can focus on.

“I was- um- just leaving,” you awkwardly stammer out, putting more distance between the person you seem to be magnetically attracted to.

“We’re getting breakfast. You wanna come along?” Colson spurts out without missing a beat, he’s striding towards the door and your face hardens.

There must have been some kind of miscommunication in the mess of his words, you must have read too far into it because here he was inviting his friend who clearly wasn’t too fond of you as if this was a casual thing.

“I’m good,” Rook says, tone easing when he’s speaking to his best friend. They walk out of view and you’re left alone in the room you’ve only been in twice.

There’s a bathroom right around the corner of his room and you head straight for it, pulling out the toothpaste from his cabinet and applying it to your finger, scrubbing your teeth. It’s primal, but at least you feel cleaner, a bit more aware in your head.

That kiss was stupid. This whole thing is a disaster, Domi’s still blowing up your phone and there’s a cherry pit growing in your stomach.

You step out and Colson’s standing across by the door, tying together his sneaker laces. Rook’s nowhere to be found and you thank the universe for that, far too early to be dealing with his seemingly intense grudge against you.

“I got the keys,” is all you get before the front door is opening and you’re following him down the hallway into the elevator.

Stems from last night come back to you in flashes. The chime of the elevator doors, the apartment numbers passing by in a daze, a clammy hand clutching yours, butterfly kisses on knuckles.

You snap out of it quick as you step into the elevator, expertly avoiding the corner where you’d given in to your heart and kissed Colson for the first time. It feels like a bad omen, shadowy dark and taunting as you both stand in silence, watching the floor numbers pass by.

“Do you have gum?” he asks, and it’s crisp in the August heat, cuts through the stuffiness in the traveling metal box.

You shuffle into your purse from last night, pull out a pack of gum you’d stuck in there and offer it to him going, “You didn’t brush?”

“You hogged the bathroom and I thought you’d wanna get out of there quick,” he explains nonchalantly, popping a stick of mint into his mouth. You tuck the gum back in, try not to watch the way he twirls the wrapper around in his hands.

“Thanks,” you mutter, hoping he gets the intent of what you actually mean. He nods as the doors ding open.

The lobby is surprisingly full, people sitting on the plush couches and there’s a slight, “Fuck,” mumbled out before Colson’s finding your hand and pulling you towards the garage.

“What-“ you get out before he shushes you, head down as you two move quickly.

He doesn’t explain, but you follow along, wondering why he’s running, hiding like he’s done something wrong. The garage door opens and both of you cross to where AJ’s van’s sitting, slew of motorcycles parked beside it.

“We should take the bikes,” he says, but it sounds like he’s already made up his mind and he’s picking apart the keys in his hand, dragging you over to the motorcycles.

“No what’s going on?” you rush out, pulling your hand from his as he clicks the lock on one of the machines.

“There’s a couple of paparazzi lingering. Probably cause of last night, Tony usually calls up and lets us know to avoid the front doors but I guess they just got here,” he rashly explains, setting over the seat.

He looks good, you can’t deny it, like an action movie star in his element, hand on the bars, shoe propped on the side. There’s a smile growing, jaw moving as he chews and you take a mental picture, a secret memento just for you.

“I’m not getting on your stupid bike,” you sum out, turning away from where he’s gearing it up, sound echoing around the empty garage.

“Either you leave with me, or they take pictures of you and then you’re splashed across front pages, no longer a secret,” he states, and he’s moving the bike slowly alongside as you stubbornly walk back to the garage entrance.

The last statement is made to hit you, remind you that he did do something wrong, both of you did and there’s going to be a price you’ll have to pay.

You give him a look as he smiles, knowing he’s gotten you yet again.

“You’re famous enough for the front pages?” you crack at him and he laughs, shoulders shaking.

“Get on the bike Y/N,” he’s shifting forward, creating space on the back and this can’t be safe but the options are so limited that this is the best you’re going to get.

You swing a leg over, stumbling a little at the shift in gravity before settling onto the seat. It’s weird and he’s turning his head to make sure you’re secure before starting up again.

“Keep your hands on me,” he instructs, but you’re tired of following his rules and fold them cautiously on the sliver of seat in front of you.

It’s a mistake and you realize it as soon as he exits the garage. There’s no one on the street around and he’s gunning the speed, wind pulling your hair back, blowing straight at you.

“Holy shit,” you gasp before grabbing onto his shoulders. His arm twitches slightly as you grip the muscle and you can feel every single movement he does.

It’s a red light when he mumbles to you, “Move your hands lower.”

“Why?” you ask, finally comfortable with the way you’re holding onto him after a few streets of green lights.

“Can’t focus properly on the turns,” he says and you’re a little confused but the lights switching to green and there’s a honk right behind, startling you just a little.

You slide your hands down his back, take pleasure in the way it grounds you as he leans forward, swerving between slower cars.

He moves his back, angles it in one direction and you sort of get the hint, settle your hands on his hips like they do in all the cheesy rom-com movies. But this isn’t a movie, this is real life and there’s rules that aren’t supposed to be broken, consequences to face. The air around you turns sour, hits your throat hard and you’re closing your eyes in an effort to not vomit all over Colson.

It takes a few more minutes and he’s pulling into a barely there parking spot of some hole in the wall diner. You’ve never been here, despite living a few blocks away and you wonder why he’s brought you so close to home when that’s exactly where you should be avoiding.

The engine cuts and then he’s scooting back, your hands immediately lifting from his hips where they’d found a unfamiliar solace for the short drive.

“Think we’ll run into her?” he attempts at a joke and you want to scream, want to remind him this isn’t funny, this is seriously fucked.

“I’m gonna go home if you keep this up,” you grunt out, hopping off of the bike, feet glad to be planted on the floor.

“It’s not that serious,” he murmurs, locking his bike before walking to the entrance. You stare at his retreating back, picture punching the shit out of him, blink it away before following.

“Table for two,” he effortlessly grins, blowing a bubble with the stale gum. The waiter gives him an unimpressed look, picks up the two menus and leads you to a corner booth.

You slide in first, and he slides in right beside you, his side just barely touching your arm. The waiter attempts to smile but it seems halfhearted and you can’t help but stifle a laugh at that.

“Get on the other side. This isn’t a date,” you say after the waiter leaves.

“I like it here. You’re warm,” Colson mumbles, reaching for a menu and your heart thuds in its cavity, begging to be let out.

“Look this can’t happen. You’re my best friend’s ex for gods sake, she’d kill me if she even knew I was talking to you,” you ramble out, finger playing with the frayed edge of the table, unable to look at him.

“What is this?” he says.

When you don’t respond, he huffs before going, “Wonder what’d she do to you if she found out we fucked.”

The waiter pauses right before your table, two waters in his hand. He turns around and you stare at his back, will him to come back to save you this hell you’ve found yourself in.

“Colson I’m serious. Shut the fuck up for two seconds and think about it,” you mutter, voice lower so that the waiter can hopefully head your way again. Your throat feels parched, dust settling against your vocal cords.

“I am being serious. I don’t get why she’d care. She broke up with me, it’s been six fucking months. I thought we both moved on,” he states matter-of-factly, reaching over your hands to grab a sugar packet.

He twists it around on the table, pink packet spinning into a blur as you watch it, wondering what to say next.

“It’s messed up. We shouldn’t even have talked to each other,” you breathe out.

“Well we did. Y/N, you’ve always been my friend first. I wasn’t going to ignore you because Domi wouldn’t like it,” he stops the spinning packet with his palm, flattens it into table.

Your waters appear on the table, two straws tossed next to full cups with a, “Ready to order?”

“Give us a few?” Colson says, voice tilting up at the end posing it as question, confidence dripping into his words. There isn’t an answer but the waiter turns away.

“The only reason I know you is cause of her,” you truthfully respond.

“Doesn’t mean our entire relationship has to be based off of what she wants. She’s not good for you,” he grabs a straw, tearing the wrapper before dropping it into a glass and passing it over to you.

Your head’s still stuck on the word relationship, knows that he doesn’t mean it romantically but the thought of it still lingers.

“You can’t say that,” you mumble in response to his last few words.

“Okay. I can’t. But I can tell you that you deserve a best friend who doesn’t go around cutting off your friends because she doesn’t want to see them anymore,” his statement seems like a final word, laying itself in the open air.

The waiter’s walking back and you quickly order the first thing you see, some blueberry pancake special and pray it isn’t bad. He orders an omelet, customizes it and you listen at the ease of his words, how he sounds like he owns the place while specifying his veggies.

Your menu gets handed back over and you sip at the ice water, try not to gulp it down.

“I’m sorry if that was out of line,” he attempts, but you don’t want to hear it anymore, don’t want to break the train of thought in your head repeating his last phrase.

“Can we just- you know be normal for now?” you ask, voice small compared to his.

“Sure yeah. You like blueberries?” he switches so quick it almost gives you whiplash, even though you asked for it.

His arm’s on the booth cushion behind you head, you can feel it as you go to lean back and it feels too close to a date for comfort.

“No it was just the first thing I saw,” you say without really meaning to.

He laughs at that and you smile too, easing into a neutral state.

“What if it’s gross? You know blueberries can freeze in just four minutes,” he spits out and you feel his leg bump against yours at the fun fact.

“Why do you know that?” you huff, eyes going to watch him speak.

“Read an article once,” he seems awfully pleased with himself and you roll your eyes muttering, “Glad to see you know how to read.”

He nudges you hard at that and you fall deeper into him somehow, find yourself tucked right into his side.

“You weren’t this mean to me last night,” he says pointedly, lifting his glass up.

“I wasn’t hungover last night,” you retort, or addled with guilt your mind adds silently.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” and then he’s ruffling through his pockets mumbling, “I thought I had some Advil in here.”

“No thanks, keep your pocket drugs. I’ll just sleep it off at home,” you say, although the idea of home and Domi just makes you queasy.

Two full plates are gently placed in front of you, steaming and fresh. You eye the purple blue dots on your pancakes suspiciously, hoping the taste isn’t as dark as the mosaic it creates visually.

Colson’s omelette looks incredible, cheese and vibrant red tomatoes popping off the plate and you want to taste it, see if its as good as he made it sound.

“I forgot you don’t get hungover,” you mumble, last few bits of the previous conversation slipping through before you lose yourself in the meal.

“Life of a rockstar,” he laughs out before grabbing his fork.

“Humble rockstar,” you laugh back as he clinks his silverware against yours.

The pancakes taste exactly and how they look and your tastebuds struggle in figuring out a flavor pattern. It’s bursts of sour, before buttery goodness and sugary maple. You demolish an entire pancake before realizing you’re out with a friend.

“You want some?” you mumble, chewing over a bite.

He watches you inquisitively from where he sits, fork dancing over his own plate. You will yourself not to blush under his gaze, almost choke on the piece tucked into your mouth.

He pulls off a piece, bites into it and you see his face twist up as he goes, “What is that?”

“Probably frozen blueberries,” you reply and his eyes light up at the recalling of his words as he swallows down the pancake.

“Terrible,” he mumbles, sipping on the dark coffee he’s ordered.

Colson’s a coffee freak, particular about the sugar levels, the amount of ice that goes into his drink, even the origin of the coffee beans. You’d learned this early on as he refused to participate in Starbuck runs, grunted in distaste when you would show up at his apartment, carrying a frappe, Domi sipping happily at her own.

The food finishes quick, you’ve taken bites of his omelette, trying not to praise the medley of flavors he’s somehow incorporated into an egg. He hasn’t cooked it of course, but you would never be able to combine options to come up with this type of breakfast.

He reluctantly finishes your last pancake, dousing it in syrup and making faces with every bite, mostly to make you laugh. His fingers are sticky and he lets them slide together before pulling them apart, string of maple connecting them, his eyebrows raising smirkingly towards you. You push him hard at the innuendo.

The bill comes around and goes back faster than you can react. He pays it quickly and quietly, not even letting you attempt at it. There’s a slight rush that overcomes you at that, you’ve always know he was generous, but this is different from late night McDonalds with the bros, slightly more personal.

He gets up to wash his hands after the mess he’s created and you shake your head at the pure stickiness of his hand as he walks away.

You pull your phone out, knowing you’ll regret it as soon as you catch sight of the time. You’ve been here with Colson for over an hour.

They flow of text messages from your roommate vary in subject, but near the end there’s no emojis, capital letters reflecting back at you and you know she’s mad, can feel it rolling off the screen. This is going to a bitch to hide.

“You should unblock my number while you have it out,” Colson suggests, voice startling you.

“Should I?” you wonder, more to hear it out loud to yourself than actually ask him.

He shrugs but his intentions are clear as he says, “Wouldn’t hurt now, would it?”

“What would you even text me?” you quiz this time, pointer finger tapping at the sides of your phone.

“Don’t know. Cool things. Fun facts,” he rattles off as if he’s creating a shoddy list in his head.

“Convincing,” you laugh before going to your settings. The blocked numbers stare up at you, at least five of them on that list unfairly.

You find his, the first one blocked all the way at the bottom and swipe.

Unblock? your phone asks, as if knowing you’re having trouble with this decision, second thoughts about something as trivial as a phone number.

Yes, you tap and then the list decreases automatically.

“Done,” you say, putting your phone back into your pocket.

“Good,” he hums before offering you his hand.

You take it, weirdly knowing this is the last time you will. He lets your intertwined fingers fall between the two of you, swings them just a little, hitting them against your legs as if he’s just as aware of the finality of it all too.

You take a breath, walk towards the exit. The doors open and you both step out, get down the steps and towards his bike.

You drop his hand first, look up at him, whisper, “I’m going to walk home.”

He doesn’t protest, you can’t tell if he wants to, but you secretly hope he does, in some twisted selfish way.

“Okay,” is all you get back from him and then he’s getting on his bike.

You don’t look back as his engine roars to life, or when you hear the telltale zoom of him speeding away. You feel sick, but remind yourself to keep walking, put as much distance between this mistake as you can.

Your heart aches at the word mistake, cracks the minute you can’t hear the motorcycle anymore, too far gone to even be white noise for your walk of shame home. This has to happen, you remind yourself, staring at the gum stains on the sidewalk. You’re going to be fine.

-

taglist:  @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @sophroniaa​ @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused​ @calum-defense-squad

[mandadoration]

hound - vii.

summary: You head to Canto Bight to gather more information about a bounty of yours when you’re ambushed and drugged. Your relationship with Mando is ever confusing.  

word count: 3, 200

pairing: mandalorian x mandalorian!reader

Warnings: non-consensual drug use, swearing, sexually suggestive content, canon-typical violence

a/n: I know I said I wouldn’t update this until next week... But are you complaining? If you follow this story on AO3, you will see that I predict that there will be 14 chapters total!

chapters: i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii  

Read this on AO3

You vaguely remember Mando saying that Canto Bight was nice this time of year, back when you were bleeding all over the floor of the Razor Crest and half delirious. As you fly in, the bright lights of the city almost make your head hurt. You’ve been here once a long time ago, you remember, for an emergency landing that had cost you an arm and a leg just so that you could leave your rented ship overnight. 

It’s a bit of a rough landing about a mile or so away from the city, landing somewhere in an unlit, grassy area, scaring some fathiers away. You head to the back to suit up, Mando trailing after you. 

“We’re looking for someone by the name of Desdre,” he informs. “He was a part of the same intergalactic gang as the bounty. He says he’ll tell us where Jahjon is in exchange for our word that we won’t turn him in.” You tilt your head. It seems suspicious that he was willing to give such precious information in return for safety. There’s no doubt the same thought has crossed his mind. 

“Will we?” you ask. Mando scoffs and slings his rifle over his shoulder and tucks ammo away. 

“We’ll see,” he says curtly, and leaves the ship. You tuck in a few more medshots into your vambrace and check the fuel for your flamethrower and follow him like a shadow. 

--

You don’t feel underdressed, exactly, but in the glitz and glamour of the glitter and expensive fabrics, you and Mando stick out like a sore thumb with your scratched up beskar and arsenal. If Mando is affected by the stares and whispers that follow you, he doesn’t show it. He goes through the alleyways and backstreets of Canto Bight, past the drugged-out spice users and teens using deathsticks, past the couples and trios and straight up orgies on the streets. You’re not quite sure where he’s going, but you stick close to him, warily watching the rooftops. Eventually, he stops at an ornate wooden door, and knocks three times. 

“Who is it?” a singsongy voice calls out. The door swings open to reveal a very scantily dressed man, gold paint rimming his dark eyes, face flushed from drinking and eyes red from spice. He pushes his curly hair up and out of his face, the bangles on his wrist jingling, eyeing you and Mando up and down hungrily. “Oh hello there,” he purrs, and practically lounges against the doorframe. “Mandalorians? What brings you here to my humble abode?” You shift your eyes away from his searching gaze to look beyond him and into the room. Moans and giggles drift into the open air. Did Mando just bring you to drug den?

“We’re looking for Desdre,” Mando answers. “Urgent business.” The man raises a carefully plucked eyebrow and squints his eyes. 

“Like what?” he questions. There are hickies and bruises lining his throat.

“None of your business, that’s for sure,” Mando says, and you think that the man is about to refuse you entry, but his face breaks into a charming smile and motions for you two to come in. 

“Be my guest,” he drawls. He doesn’t move from his position, and forces you and Mando to brush past him, and you grit your teeth as you feel hands feel you up. Judging by the sudden tense shoulders, the same has happened to Mando. The man’s voice leans in close and you do your best to try not flinch from the sudden wave of perfume and musk. His grip on your wrist is hot. “If you and your friend ever decide to come back, not on business, just ask for Pretre, hm?” he whispers, voice low and wanton. You quickly pull yourself away from him, ignoring how he laughs, and follow Mando to the back. “I’ve always wanted to fuck a Mando!” his voice calls out after you. 

The further back into the room you go, the less clothes there are, and the more blissed out the people look. Eventually, you come to an area of the room blocked off by velveteen curtains. You push through it, and wince.

You didn’t think that people wore those gold metal bikinis willingly. 

Still, it’s better than nothing, and your gaze settles on a man, sitting in the center of the pile of blankets and soft pillows, covered by a thin robe, pulling his face from the neck of an attractive Twi’lek whose hands are tangled in his dark hair, and grinning when he sees you and Mando. A few men and women peel themselves off of the floor to prowl around you. It’s hazy in here from smoke and stifling from all the bodies. The lights from outside are barely trickling in, heavy curtains on every window, and your eyes strain to adjust.

“Desdre,” Mando says. You scowl under your helmet as you grab the wrist of someone who was feeling up your leg. 

“Mando!” Desdre crows. He flourishes his arm out. “Come sit! You and your friend- please, relax.” Neither of you move, and Desdre at least has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Well, can I offer you something to drink? Some spice? Or a girl?” he offers, waggling his eyebrows. 

“We’re not here to waste time,” Mando says. Desdre sighs and gets up, soothing the girls that whine and ruffling the hair of a boy that kisses his calf as he moves to stand in front of you and Mando, pipe dangling in his fingers.

“Always business, Mando, and no play,” he complains in a lilting accent. “Who’s your friend?” He trails a finger up your armor before tapping it a couple of times. “Another Mandalorian?” He takes a deep drag from his pipe and blows sickly sweet smoke in your face. Although your helmet filters out most of it, the smell still makes your head ring. 

“Yes.”

“Hm, interesting,” he hums. He stares intensely at you. 

“Jahjon. You said know where he is?” Mando asks. Desdre nods, and goes back to join his harem, leaning back languidly as they crawl over him again. He teasingly smacks the rear of someone you can’t quite see.

“I do, my friend,” he says. “But remember what I asked for? My safety guaranteed for information.” At that, more people slip in the room past the dividing curtains. You count in your head. There’s seven people in here now, all looking at you like you’re their next meal. 

“You have our word,” Mando says, but Desdre clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“I need to hear it from both of you,” he orders, his piercing gaze looking straight at you. You clench your jaw, and you want to smack the smug grin from his face. “I’ve heard about you, you know? The Dog? Loyal to your master and hunting together. I’ve heard you’re ruthless in the field.” All the heads in the room have turned to look at you in unison, and you would’ve found it unsettling if there wasn’t a cold weight settling in your stomach. “Especially how that poor Gran came back in pieces, body mangled like he’d been bashed in.” He’s playing you, you know it, and you shouldn’t let it affect you, but your temper is uncharacteristically short. “Your bite really is worse than your bark, huh? I wonder what you’re like in bed. If you fuck as brutally as you kill.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Mando finally says frustratedly. He steps forward. “If you won’t help us--”

“You have my word,” you grit out, interrupting Mando. You hate this. You hate how you’ve become notorious and people have started assuming, more bold and daring, pushing your buttons and bending you, expecting you to break. You hate that people have started twisting the facts about you to make you more vicious, more blood-thirsty and unforgiving when that’s not anywhere remotely close to the truth. You don’t know how it’s come to this. You haven’t really even done anything remotely interesting. As far as you’re concerned, you’re nobody. A Mandalore without a clan who doesn’t even know why there are people so curious about you. You think the world is against you, using your moment of weakness where your nightmares have been gnawing at you to try and knock you down, degrading you down to a feral animal. You want to prove them wrong. You’ve bled for Mando to know you're human, and you really don’t want to bleed again.

“And so she speaks,” Desdre says, looking pleasantly surprised, and Mando glances at you. “Mando finally took the muzzle off you?”

But you decide to play the part of that mangy mutt, and bare your teeth.

You don't know what it is that made you do it, what possessed you to make such a rash decision, but you pull the blaster from your holster and point it at Desdre. 

“Jahjon. Where is he?” you demand, voice low and dangerous. The people flocking on either side of Desdre scramble away. 

“Dog,” Mando hisses. “Put that down.” You ignore him and stalk closer, your blaster still carefully trained. Desdre doesn’t even look fazed. He looks at you curiously. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Something’s wrong. Your limbs feel too heavy and the room is spinning. It’s too bright in here, even in low-light. 

“Answer me,” you bark. Your grip wavers, and Desdre smiles. 

“I don’t know.” 

“What?”

Mando walks up to stand close to you and tries to pull your arm back, but you wrench it out his grip, and accidentally fire into the ceiling. 

The room descends into chaos. 

Desdre stumbles back, and his little harem get up, looking alert, drawing their own weapons, and as more people flood into the room, surrounding you, you know what this is. 

Desdre never had the intentions to tell you anything. 

And this was an ambush. 

You fire your blaster a few more times, hitting Desdre in the leg and another shot going through the chest of a half-naked humanoid that you can barely make out from your blurred vision before it’s knocked out of your hand. You lash out, your fist catching the jaw of some other poor soul, sending them flying back and taking two more down with them. Your vambrace shoots out a medshot, knocking the Twi’lek he was kissing before out, and your grappling line tangles around their ankle. Yanking on it, another harem girl stumbles over them. 

A staff knocks you over the head, increasing the ringing that’s building up in your ears. You whip around to see Mando shoot them with his own blaster, their body falling limp at your feet. He’s got blood smeared on his chestplate as he fights around the small room. It’s too cramped and too risky to use his amban rifle, but overall, most of the attackers are already dead or knocked out, too drugged up and sluggish to take down two Mandalorians. A tap on your shoulder distracts you. You turn around, fists raised, but a sharp pain twinges in your neck. It’s Pretre, and the gold paint in around his eyes sparkles as you raise a hand and pull out a syringe. Your chest feels tight as you drop it. It shatters on the ground, red liquid seeping out and soaking into the carpet. 

“I forgot that your helmet filters,” he says. Pretre’s voice sounds slow and deep as the room starts to tilt. “I was wondering why it took so long for this to happen. Luckily I had this. My brother is too incompetent. Ah, well, hindsight, you know?” A smile plays on his lips, and you wonder why you hadn’t seen the resemblance before. A wave of pleasure rides over you, but then it starts dragging you down, making your eyelids heavy.

“You… what?” you ask stupidly. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and fire is dancing across your skin. “What did you…?” Everything’s muffled. He puts a hand on your chest and gives the gentlest of pushes, but it topples you over as you collapse on the ground. He stands over you, a pitying smile on his face, showing the barest of white teeth. You vaguely register Mando’s voice calling out to you, but it’s cut off and there’s more blaster fire. 

“I do hope I didn’t give you too much,” Pretre sighs. He bends down and crouches next to you, running a single finger down the length of your helmet, dragging a finger across your neck, nails digging in. “Oh dear. Maybe just a smidge too much… Just ride it out, and you’ll be fine.” He hooks a finger under your helmet, and you cry out weakly, but you’re arms are too heavy and your mind is too light to stop him. Just as he finds the button to release your helmet, something catches his attention. His head snaps up and he pulls away. “Next time,” he promises, “and my offer still stands.” He leaves you on the floor, and your vision is swimming, the ceiling and tapestries on the wall swirling together as you feel sweat dripping down your neck. Whatever Pretre put in you was making you burn up and feel sickly. You hear panting next to your ear. You turn your head--

-- and there’s a strill snarling in your face. 

You reel back, away from its dripping jowls as it pads closer to you. It bays at your sudden reaction, and more hounds appear, surrounding you as you gasp in shallow breaths and scramble away, tripping over bodies and pillows in your effort to get away. They follow you, eyes red and glowing as they bare their sharp teeth at you. Their claws are tearing up the carpet underneath them. The strills come closer and closer, but your back is already up against the wall, and your blaster is too far out of your reach. The one in the front, the biggest and angriest of the pack, goes right to your face, nose touching your helmet, and you close your eyes and curl into yourself as howling echoes in your ears. 

“Dog!” 

Your head snaps up. The hounds are gone, and Mando is hovering over you. He holds out your blaster for you to take. 

“We have to go,” he says, out of breath as he looks around. “That stupid kid who met us at the door- he took Desdre and left. We have to leave before more come.” You stare at him blankly. Where had the dogs gone? When you look, the carpet in front of you is intact and whole, and there’s no slobber. You slowly reach up to take the blaster, holding it in your hand. You pull yourself up, head swiveling as the howling picks up again. 

“Did you hear that?” you choke out. You wave the blaster wildly as you spin to try and find the source. 

“Hey, calm down--” You jerk back as his hand rests on your shoulder. His voice is loud and booming in your ears. Spots dance in your vision as Mando grabs your hand and tugs you along, through the curtains, through the now-empty room, and into the alley ways of Canto Bight. The lights are bright and sends piercing pains up your head as you stumble along. 

“Mando,” you gasp out. It’s getting harder and harder to keep your feet under you. You think you hear dogs running behind you, but every glance back comes up empty. 

“What?” he grunts, pulling you into another winding backstreet. Bile rises up in your throat with each yank. 

“Mando,” you call out again. There are phantom hands against your throat and you can’t breathe. “Mando.” He finally stops and pulls you into an alcove. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he hisses, and then he takes in you heaving shoulders, your choked out pleas, and hold your head in his hands. He calls your name, your real name, soft and pleading, and that’s when it peaks. 

You faintly register how your eyes roll to the back of your head and you collapse like a puppet with its strings cut, Mando just barely managing to catch you before you can hit your head. But his hands add on to your discomfort as it feels like there are thousands upon thousands of hand pulling, tugging, and scratching you, around your throat and holding your arms and legs down. A panic swells in you and you struggle to get away and push the hands off you. It’s smothering, the suffocation in your lungs and your head making you dizzy. It feels like they’re trying to pry your helmet off, but as you go through the streets of Canto Bight, jostling in someone’s arms, you realize it feels like they’re trying to rip your head from your shoulders and tear you limb from limb.

You think you hear screaming, and as more and more things come into focus, you realize it’s you. You shoot up from your cot, gasping and Mando shushes you and calms you down. You flail around, trying to make sense of things. 

You can breath, finally, as the recycled air of the Razor Crest buzzes over you. And you realize it’s light outside. 

“How long--”

“Just a day,” Mando answers, and he sounds exhausted. You wonder if he stayed up to make sure you were okay. “What happened?”

“Drugged,” you say. “I… I don’t know what it was.”

“You were freaking out,” he starts, “horribly. You were screaming and trying to claw your own skin off, talking about dogs and strills.” He eyes you warily, taking in your hunched stance and bouncing knees. “You wanna talk about it?”

And although you know you should, that those hallucinations are fresh and feels as real as memories, the words die in your throat as you clam up. “I can’t,” you admit. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just--” Mando abruptly stands up. 

“It’s fine,” he says, but his tone is short and you can tell he’s irritated. “I’ve located the last of the bounties. We’ll be there in a few hours.” He leaves to go back up the cockpit and you tamp down the urge to bang your head against the wall. The emotional stalemate is driving you up the wall. You can’t understand why Mando is upset you can’t confide in him when he himself is the most closed off person you’ve ever met. If anything, you’ve given him more than he has. After a moment, you go meet up with him. 

You see a red liquid shimmering in a vial in his pocket. He follows your gaze to see what you’re staring at, and he pulls it out and hands it to you. “Mnemiotic drug,” he says. “Imps used it all the time. That’s what they gave you. Modified, but the base is the same. Hallucinations, raised body temperature, heightened aggression, increased sensitivity. Brain damage in extreme cases.”

“What happened to Pretre and Desdre?” you ask him. He doesn’t need to describe the effects if you’ve lived through them. 

“They got what they deserved,” he says, and leaves it at that. 

--

Hound Tag List: @knockbeforeyouspeak​​ @gothtechie​ @killtherandomness​

[thepokyone]

Girl Next Door

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (ft. Steve)

Content/Warnings: angst; fluff

Words: 3124

A/N: This was a 3 day, 3k word labor of love, and there have been few times I have been prouder of a work than when I finished writing this. I really pushed myself with this fic (especially the last scene) so a huge thanks to the requester. I hope you guys enjoy this!

You first met Steve Rogers when you punched him in the face. To be fair, it was an accident, and you were pleasantly tipsy, but still. You had punched Captain America in the face and Tony Stark (who you now knew by association) never let you live that down after he found out. Now, several years later, you shared an apartment building with Steve - the two of you were next door neighbors, in fact - and you were both his close friend and dogsitter to his white lab, whom you had jokingly named Icecap. The name had stuck, and you were easily one of the dog’s favorite people. Sam joked that you even gave Steve a run for his money, considering how much Icecap loved you.

It was because of Icecap that you first met Bucky Barnes. You had been laden down with groceries, fumbling to get your key into the lock when you registered the sounds of loud, angry barking coming from Steve’s apartment. You wouldn’t have given it a second thought if not for the fact that Icecap rarely barked, and never like that. So you set your groceries down in your apartment, grabbed your baseball bat, and quietly unlocked Steve’s door using the key he had given you.

You swung the door open slightly, moving away from the doorframe just in case there was someone in there with a gun, holding the metal bat tightly in your hands. Not seeing anyone, you crept into the apartment, sticking close to the walls and peering cautiously around the corner into the kitchen. Nothing. You kept going, following the sound of Icecap’s furious barks into the living room. There, standing with his back to you, was the cause of Icecap’s distress.

The dog seemed to be trapped in Steve’s bedroom, as you could now hear him scratching furiously on the other side of the bedroom door. You swallowed, unsure as to whether or not you should confront the man or get the hell out while you still had the chance. He turned around before you could make a decision, and your eyes seemed to double in size as you took in blue eyes, dark hair, and a stubbled, handsome face. The next thing you noticed was his hand, not covered by the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. His metal hand.

The bat tumbled out of your hands.

“Bucky?” You whispered, seeing a myriad of emotions war cross his eyes as you spoke. Wariness seemed to win, as his body language became even more guarded than before.

“Who’re you?” His voice was low, rough. Guarded.

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, careful not to spook him. “I’m a friend of Steve’s. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here, right? To see Steve?”

“Yes,” He said slowly, not looking reassured. “Where is he?”

“He’s on a mission,” You said. “I think he’s supposed to get back tonight. Do you want me to call him for you?”

Bucky looked uncertain. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” You said, hand going towards your back pocket. He tensed. “I’m just getting my phone, that’s it. It’s in my back pocket.”

“Slowly,” He said. You pulled your phone out of your pocket at an almost agonizingly slow pace, showing it to him.

“Just my phone, see? I’m going to call him now,” You said to Bucky, unlocking your phone and calling Steve. You put the phone on speaker, so that Bucky could hear everything that was being said.

Steve picked up after several rings. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Well, not exactly,” You said, eyes flicking up to Bucky. “You might want to sit down.”

“Already am. We’re flying back,” He said. “What is it?”

“Well, I got home today and heard Icecap making a bit of a racket it your apartment, so I came to investigate, and long story short… Bucky is here,” You finished, summarizing what had happened in the past ten minutes.

There was dead silence on the line for several moments. “What?”

“Bucky is here, Steve. In your apartment. He was waiting for you,” You told Steve. “Did you want to talk to him?”

“Y-yeah, of course,” Steve stammered out.

You saw Bucky had came closer as you were speaking, standing only a foot from you and staring down at the phone. “Go on, Bucky. It’s Steve, you can say hi.”

“Steve?” Bucky asked, sounding uncertain.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve’s voice was soft, but you could hear the smile that carried through it. “How are you?”

“I’m… remembering,” Bucky said. “Slowly.”

“That’s good, Bucky, that’s really good,” Steve said. “Look, I’m heading home from a mission but I should be back around 10 tonight. You should stay with Y/N. She’s a friend, you can trust her.”

“Steve, I don’t-” Bucky wavered, his blue eyes traveling warily between you and the cell phone. “But what if-”

“She’s not, Buck. You’re safe with her, okay?” Steve said soothingly. “Would I lie to you?”

“N-no,” He said. “I’ll stay with her.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, pal, okay?”

Bucky nodded. “See you soon, Steve.”

The line went dead, and you slid it back into your pocket. “Are you hungry, Bucky?”

“No, I’m… I’m okay,” He said, glancing towards the door that Icecap was still barking at.

“You want me to let out the dog? Icecap won’t hurt you,” You said. He nodded, and you cracked open the bedroom door, making sure Icecap saw it was you before opening it even more. “Hey, buddy! Why don’t you meet Bucky? He’s Steve’s friend. You were being a big bad guard dog, huh?”

Icecap growled warily at Bucky, positioning himself between you and the ex-HYDRA agent. “Icecap,” You scolded gently. “He’s nice. Have a seat, Bucky. He’ll warm up to you.”

Bucky nodded wordlessly, sitting down on the couch, stiff as a board. The best word you could use to describe the supersoldier was watchful. His sharp blue eyes were following your every movement, searching for any sort of threat, but he never seemed to find any. He didn’t talk much, so you provided most of the conversation, chatting happily about your job, the Avengers, and the little old lady who ran a bakery and gave you free dog biscuits for Icecap.

You had to run off for ten minutes to put your groceries (and baseball bat) away, and you were pleased to see that Icecap was happily nudging Bucky to be petted upon your return. You showed Bucky a few of the tricks that Icecap knew before turning on the TV, where Bucky timidly requested that just watching the news was fine with him. You left it on that channel until Steve returned, looking relieved to see that Bucky was still in his apartment and hadn’t rabbited.

“Hey, Buck. Y/N,” Steve greeted, shooting you a smile. “Thanks for staying with him.”

“Yeah, no problem,” You said easily. “You’re pretty good company, Bucky. Unfortunately, I’ve got work in the morning, so I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

“See you later,” Steve said, patting your shoulder as you left.

“Bye,” Bucky called out, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, even he looked surprised that he had spoken.

It didn’t take much adjusting for you to get used to having two supersoldiers from the 40s living as your neighbors, considering that you lived across from one already. What you did have to get used to was the yelling. Every night, without fail, the screaming that came along with Bucky’s horrible nightmares filtered into your apartment. You didn’t know what happened after his screaming stopped, but from the various loud thumps that you could sometimes hear, it wasn’t hard to guess.

There wasn’t much you could do besides be there, for both of them, though you still got the distinct impression that Bucky still didn’t quite trust you. It was for that reason that you were so surprised when he showed up on your doorstep late one night, wreathed in a blanket and looking more defeated and defenseless than you had ever seen him.

“Can I-” His voice cracked.

“Yeah, yeah, come in,” You said, waving him into your apartment and showing him into your living room. “Sit down, Bucky.”

You didn’t even need to tell him, because he was already slumped in the corner of your couch by the time the words left your lips. He looked up at you, eyes framed by bags so dark he looked as if he could have been punched in the face. You felt a stab of compassion for him. You sat down on the other side of the couch, bringing your knees to your chest and waiting for him to speak - you knew that pushing him to do so before he was ready wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“Sorry,” He finally said. “I was having trouble sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake Steve, so I thought- sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” You reassured him. “I wasn’t asleep yet, anyways.”

“But it’s three in the morning,” Bucky said, his face scrunching up into one of endearing confusion.

You shrugged. “I was marathoning Stranger Things on Netflix. Have you seen it?”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “What’s Netflix?”

“It’s a service that has a bunch of TV shows and movies to watch whenever you want,” You explained. “We can watch something, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed. “We can look at what you were just talking about - Stranger Things?”

“Yeah. It’s set in the eighties, in this small town called Hawkins, Indiana. You’ll probably like it,” You said, turning on the first episode. You grabbed your discarded blanket, wrapping yourself in it once more and making sure you didn’t infringe too much on Bucky’s personal space. He was watching with interest, his tense posture eventually relaxing as he became more at ease.

At some point during the second episode you drifted off to sleep, and you didn’t wake up again until light was streaming through the windows. You blinked against the brightness, noticing that Bucky had also fallen asleep, chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. Careful not to disturb him, you stood, turned off the TV, and sent Steve a text that Bucky was with you before heading to the kitchen.

Bucky didn’t rise until the bacon was sizzling in the pan, scrambled eggs sitting on two plates on the table. “Morning, sunshine,” You greeted as he yawned.

“Hi,” He said, voice still rough from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Nearly nine,” You said. “You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn’t want to wake you. I made breakfast, I hope you like eggs.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” He said, taking one of the plates and staring at it cautiously. He glanced at you, then back at the food, and seemed to decide it was safe because he sat down at your small table and began to eat.

“Good?” You asked, carrying your own plate and the plate of bacon you had made over to the table. “What do you want to drink? I’ve got milk, orange juice, and water.”

“Just water,” He said, slowly taking a piece of bacon from the plate.

There was a gentle knock at the door, as you grabbed the cups, and you noticed Bucky stiffen. “It’s probably Steve.”

You padded over to the door, checking through the peephole before opening it. Steve stood on the other side, dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. “Morning, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Steve,” You said. “I have breakfast, if you’re hungry?”

“Tempting, but I already ate. You had me worried for a while there, Buck,” Steve said, smiling at his best friend. “Should have figured you’d come over here, Y/N is a good friend and good company.”

Bucky was staring at Steve with an expression you had never seen before, and couldn’t quite identify. “How long have you known each other?”

“Practically since I woke up,” Steve said. “She punched me in the face.”

“It was an accident!” You exclaimed, swallowing a bite of bacon before glaring at him. “Will you ever let me live that down?”

Steve laughed. “No, but at least I know if anything ever happens, you have a mean right hook!”

“I’m sure you know by now that Steve is a bit of a trouble magnet,” Bucky said slowly.

“Oh, do I,” You said with a snort. “How many times have I had to help you fix a bullet hole in your wall, Steve? Five?”

“Four,” Steve said. “Yeah, she knows.”

Bucky shook his head, muscles in his jaw clenching. “We’re putting her in danger, Steve. I am. You are.”

“I have a bit of a knack for getting into sticky situations myself, Bucky,” You said. “At least with you two around, I have somebody to help me out of them.”

Bucky gave an unconvinced noise and went back to his eggs. “If you say so, doll.”

You saw a lot more of Bucky after that morning. It often seemed as if he was in your apartment more than Steve’s, but you didn’t mind. Sometimes the two of you would binge shows on Netflix, or play board games, or attempt to teach Icecap some new tricks when Steve was gone. Mostly, though, he just hung around as you went about your daily routine, picking up heavy things for you and asking questions about pop culture.

His presence was a soothing one, if not a little unsettling, as he had the uncanny ability of moving from one place to another without making a sound, but you enjoyed his company. Perhaps you enjoyed it a little too much, but you tried not to think about that. Regardless, you were glad he was there when shit inevitably hit the fan. Because with Steve Rogers as a neighbor, it really was only a matter of time.

It was an ordinary day. Bucky was lounging on the couch, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what he wanted to watch, and you were fixing breakfast for yourself before you headed off to work. “Have you seen Supernatural yet?” You called.

“I don’t think so,” He responded. “Is it good?”

“Very,” You said, carrying your breakfast in to sit beside him. “I dunno if it’ll be to your taste, but give it a shot.”

He nodded, turning on the first episode. It didn’t take you long to finish your food, and you were dropping your dish into the sink when it happened. There was an explosion, a loud one, that rattled the whole building, making your ears ring as smoke billowed into the apartment - the door had been blown off, and Bucky was in the kitchen in moments.

“You okay?” He asked, voice almost frantic as he scanned you for any signs of injury.

“Yeah, other than the ringing in my ears,” You said with a grimace. “What happened?”

“Grenade, I’d guess. I think it went off in the hallway,” He said. You heard the loud sounds of gunfire. “Go into your closet, and stay there. You wouldn’t happen to have a gun, would you?”

“I do, actually,” You said. “My room, in the closet. It’s a rifle.”

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Bucky approved, grabbing your hand and peering around the corner for any sign of danger before pulling you back to the bedroom, opening the door to the closet. He took the gun and nodded for you to get inside. “Don’t come out until I get back, okay? I’ll knock.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Be careful, Bucky.”

“I will, doll,” He said, leaning forward to press the ghost of a kiss to your forehead.

He closed the closet door, leaving you in the dark as he ran off to help Steve. You counted the seconds as they ticked by, glad the smoke hadn’t reached this far into your apartment yet. You could hear the prominent sounds of gunfire, yelling, and several thuds. You had lost count of how long it had been before there was a soft knock at the closet door.

Bucky opened it a moment later, out of breath but otherwise fine. You pulled him into a tight hug, pressing your face into his shoulder. “You’re okay,” You said, feeling beyond relieved.

“I’m okay,” He agreed, fingers pressing reassuringly into your back. “We’re okay.”

“Steve?”

“He’s fine, just surprised. Icecap is okay too,” Bucky said, pulling back to take another inventory of your body, looking for any sign of harm.

You hesitated, studying his face. “Was it…”

“HYDRA? No, no. No,” He assured you. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Steve and I put you in danger,” He said softly. “He’s an Avenger, every bad guy on the planet wants him dead. And me… I’m just a puppet trying to be a man.”

“Bucky, no.” Your voice was firm, certain. “You’re one of the best, kindest, and most selfless men that I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. You’re not a puppet, not even close. HYDRA may have tried to erase who you are, but they failed. They could never make you their puppet, Bucky, because you were never theirs. You proved that when you started to remember, when you saved Steve after he fell, when you came here looking to find the person you used to be.”

Bucky stared at you, a dawning look on his face as if he was just then realizing something important. It was at that moment that it registered how close the two of you were standing - nearly chest to chest, his breath fanning gently across your face. You swallowed, feeling warmth creeping up your neck as his eyes flickered down to your lips and back up again; however it was you, and not him, that bridged the small space between you, lips pushed together in a gentle, almost hesitant, kiss.

His lips were soft an inescapably warm, moving ever more confidently against your own as he realized that you wanted this, too. One of Bucky’s arms had slid around your waist, pulling you in to his chest as his other went into your hair. You let out a soft sigh, lungs begging for air and heart begging for his hands to trace every curve, for your lips to never stop tasting his own.

Yet still you pulled away, breath ragged and hair untidy, pressing your forehead into his shoulder as his own body heaved, shaking, choking out silent sobs. Not because he was unhappy, no, but because he had never been happier. Not out of fear, but out of relief, because he had never felt as home as he had with you. Bucky had never felt as loved as when he was with you.

Tag List: @the-crime-fighting-spider @micachu1331 @esoltis280 @ilvermornyqueen @teaand-cookies @adri200189 @alittlebitofmagic @bluebird214 @lovely-geek @fleurs-en-ruines @loki-god-of-my-life @awesomehaylzus @ldyhawkeye @marvel-biatch @caswinchester2000 @ilovetvshowsblog

[idolimagines]

The Pool Boy (M)

Full Fic

Jungkook x Reader (female)

Genre: Romance/Smut

Warning: Contains sexual content (fingering, thigh riding)

Summary: Meet Jeon Jungkook, your new pool boy

Length: 8.1k

  You stared out the window, watching in a daze as numerous buildings passed by – each one seeming taller than the next as they were built no less than 10 stories high in the heart of the city.

“Beautiful day we’re having aren’t we?” Your driver commented from behind the steering wheel, taking a moment to glance at you through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah,” you muttered with a blank face. “It’s nice.”

Before you knew it you had arrived at the front gate of your extravagant home – with your driver stopping just perfectly near your front door as you stepped out with your handbag in tow. 

Your heels clacked against the beautifully paved walkway towards the entrance and you had merely made it up two steps to the front door before your phone began to ring.

With a slight huff you fished through your bag, finding it quick enough before reading the caller I.D

“This is the fourth time you’ve called me within the last hour. What is it now?” You automatically hissed through the line, not giving the person on the other end time to greet.

“I don’t mean to bother you Miss, but I’m just calling to tell you that the papers have been signed and submitted by your husband.” Jesse, one of the lawyers informed.

“Ex-husband,” you corrected and there was a pause on the other end.

“Yes. Sorry, ex-husband.” He stammered and you rolled your eyes as you unlocked your door and entered your home.

“Alright, is that it?” You further asked, setting your purse and keys on a coffee table nearby before strolling through the large living room. You were welcomed by the pale blue walls and white accents of your home, tying in with the custom made French furniture you had a designer personally order last year.

“Y-yes – well there is also one more thing.” Jesse cringed through the other end, sounding as if he was going to be killed for speaking another word. 

“Which is…?” You added with a long pause.

There was a hint of hesitation once more, “Well, I – uh, I don’t know any easy way to put this…”

“Jesse, spit it out!”

“Your ex-husband…h-he wants custody of Pumpkin.”

Your annoyed demeanor suddenly went into full on rage as your eyes blared wide and your jaw nearly dropped to the floor in shock. “NO! Absolutely not!” You yelled. “That’s my baby, he can’t just take him away-”

“Frankly he can as the cat is registered under both of your names,” Jesse further sighed and you knew he was probably rubbing his headache away from his fancy office downtown.

You looked down as soon as you heard a faint bell noise chime near you and a sorrowful frown appeared while you looked at the fat, fluffy orange cat that purred around your ankle.

Holding the phone to your ear with a crimp of your shoulder, you quickly bent down and picked the cat up, holding him like a big baby in one arm while gripping the phone with your other once more. “Well tell him to buy himself another cat or something because I’m not letting him take Pumpkin.” You huffed while stalking towards the large windows of your kitchen.

With a grim look, you glanced at how dark the area looked and began to casually open the blinds, allowing some daylight to let in and brighten up the place. “Ma’am, I’m afraid my client said the cat was non-negotiable.” Jesse informed and you let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Tell him that he should have thought of that before he cheated on me then,” you countered with lightning speed and you could hear Jesse nearly choking on his cold glass of water from the other side.

For a moment you stayed silent, remembering the face of the man you used to call husband and all the pain that came with his infidelity towards you and your marriage.

Just like you, your ex was a very successful business executive – one that was by your side, starting from the bottom up together and eventually falling in love at an early age. With young love came nativity and trust – trust that only became shattered the second you found out that he was cheating on you with at least two other women. Both who were money hungry and knew about his success before sleeping with him.

But that was a few months ago and now the pain seemed to be virtually non-existent, leaving you numb on the inside and allowing you to put all your time and energy into your business. You were known as a workaholic, or as some of your employees liked to call you a, “She-devil”.

And frankly you didn’t seem to give a damn.

“Maybe I can convince him that you’re not willing to budge about Pumpkin…” Jesse’s voice rang you out of your thoughts and you swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing to twist open the blinds.

And as soon as you did the bright sunshine temporarily blinded you, causing your eyes to squint from the harsh light while they adjusted.

However as soon as they did, you quickly spotted an unusual sight.

It was a perfect view of your lagoon-like pool. Coming in at just over 9 feet deep at the furthest end and shallowing out to a mere 3 feet at the other. The water was clear and blue and exotic plants from all over the world bloomed beautifully around it, giving it that oasis look you always loved.

But that wasn’t what kept your attention this time – no. This time it was something or should you say someone much different as there, floating gracefully in the middle was an unfamiliar man.

He was relaxing near the deeper end of the large pool, with his long body floating on a sprinkled donut printed cushion. His hair was a dark brown color, resembling the hue of honey roasted chestnuts and casually stood at a middle part while his dampened skin radiated under the hot sun.

His simple white t-shirt stood out against the blue water and he looked completely at ease as he gazed at the man-made waterfall through his chic, round sunglasses.

Your brows furrowed in bewilderment and you found yourself pausing longer than you realized as you stared at the peculiar man.

“Y/N,” Jesse continued to say. “Y/N are you still there?”

“Yeah…” you awkwardly answered, still keeping your attention on the stranger outside while peeping through the blinds. “Hey, um. Let me call you right back.” You stammered before abruptly hanging up and throwing the phone on the kitchen table.

With one last look through the window you raced for the back door with Pumpkin still tucked against you, tagging him along to confront the intruder as you braced for a fight.

At first you sneakily made your way outside, quietly opening the door and keeping your eye on the random man in your backyard as you did so. Within the silence, you could see from afar that he wasn’t aware of your presence as he continued to sing along to a tune.

So you continued to stalk closer, spying on him as if your life depended on it while coming near with your cat in your hand. As you came closer you began to brace yourself for his reaction. What if he was a murderer? Or a thief? Or even worse…

What if he tried to hurt Pumpkin?

These were the ideas that ran through your head and you began to freak yourself out more by the second before the back door you had come through suddenly shut closed and a loud bang was heard.

The noise instantly interrupted the man from his relaxed state and he snapped up from the donut cushion he laid on – looking around to see what caused the noise before coincidentally catching you from behind.

In that moment you stopped all actions, wide-eyed and instantly regretting your decision to spy on the intruder instead of calling the police like a normal person.

But upon catching you, he jolted a little more – being caught off guard to say the least before eliciting an “Oh shit,” while losing balance and falling into the water.

You flinched from the big splash and turned Pumpkin away as some pool water sprinkled your way. With a curious look you came forward, gawking at the dark shadow beneath the water before the man suddenly popped up right in front of you.

You found yourself screeching and backing away from him, unaware of what his motives were before he finally spoke.

“Who are you!” He demanded, shouting with a water filled cough as he swam towards the edge.

With a surprised scoff you ran a hand through Pumpkin’s soft fur, flabbergasted by the man’s first words. “Who am I?” You repeated. “I should be asking who you are!”

Ignoring your remark, the younger man rubbed his hand against his face, throwing off any excess water that laid between his eyes before taking a look back at the floating cushion. “Fuck!” He cursed with a groan.

“What?” You pestered, taking a glance at the pool while his eyes darted towards the deep end.

“My phone,” he quickly answered. “It fell in and sunk to the bottom.”

Your eyes went wide, taking another second to look before finally spotting a tiny black shadow located towards the filter at the very bottom just as he said.

”Oh…” was all you could say, standing there awkwardly as he sighed and made his way up the ladder.

Upon first instincts, you should have ran away from the stranger and called the police – as any sane person would do.

But instead you simply just stood there, staying in his presence as your curiosity began to get the better of you.

As he came out of the pool his white t-shirt clung to his body, soaking wet and sticking to every inch of his upper half as he finally got out. His dark hair was now messy and hanging over his forehead while his silver earring sparkled against the sun’s rays.

You diverted your gaze from the man, merely holding your cat against you and instead attempting to ask him who he was again before he suddenly came forward.

And it was at that moment that you were finally able to see him up-close.

During this time you had now realized he was no longer wearing his sunglasses, as they too, just like his phone became lost within the depths of your pool. Needless to say you were taken back at first, surprised to find how handsome he was – especially up close.

From the close distance you could now clearly see his eyes – dark brown just like his hair and filled with a fresh and kind look that held your attention from the moment you saw. His nose was sharp and prominent and his delicate lips were naturally a deep cherry color.

Upon seeing you he too focused all his attention on you – even halting a breath as his lips slightly parted.

His eyes bore into yours and the way he looked at you caused your mind to turn into mush – suddenly forgetting that this man was indeed a stranger.

And feeling the tension, your sight faltered from his and you let out an inward groan before he began to lift his wet shirt up and peel it from his body.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you began to set back into reality and covered Pumpkin’s eyes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The man casually huffed. “My shirt is wet so I’m taking it off.” He added in a duh tone and you immediately frowned.

“No, I meant what are you doing here? Who are you?” You clarified while catching a glimpse of his very much toned and defined body.

With no phone, sunglasses, or shirt – the man was now left in only a pair simple black swim trunks hanging loose from his hips.

“I’ll tell you who I am as soon as you tell me who you are first,” the man stated in a teasing manner and you scoffed at his offer while rolling your eyes.

“You’re kidding,” you hissed.

“I’m not,” he simply replied while running his hands through his locks and shaking them free of any water.

With a scowl of disbelief, you glanced at Pumpkin before looking back to the ridiculous man. “I’m Y/N, the owner of this house.” You clearly announced before taking a few steps and grabbing one of the guest towels from an outdoor cabinet nearby.

“You said you’re the owner?” He repeated, sounding a bit surprised as he then looked up at you. “But I heard the owner was an old cat lady.”

“I am the old cat lady,” you huffed and his mouth dropped. “Now tell me who you are before I call the cops.” You added with a toss of the towel.

Within lightning speed, the man seamlessly caught the towel with one hand before using it to dry his hair. You waited for a few seconds, watching him before he looked at you again.

And it was at that moment you caught a small smile peek out from his lips, showing a glimpse of his pearly whites as he couldn’t help but take humor in the situation.

“Jeon Jungkook,” he answered. “I’m your new pool boy.”

Your brows instantly knitted together and you took a step back in confusion as you eyed the man suspiciously. “That doesn’t make any sense,” you spat. “I have a pool boy and his name is Tae-”

“Taehyung, I know.” Jungkook interrupted and you crinkled your nose. “He’s back in jail so my boss told me to cover his houses while he’s gone.”

You winced at the word “jail” – finding out for the first time that your previous pool boy had even gone to such a place. “What’s he locked up for?” You dared to ask, finding it hard to believe as Taehyung was one of the nicest guys you knew.  

“Vandalism,” Jungkook merely responded without an ounce of hesitation. “Apparently he likes to write bad words on public places and this is his third time getting caught.”

While saying this he could see you slightly nod your head, taking in the new information while still keeping a distance away from him. “Wait…” you squeaked. “Have you been to prison too?”

“Yeah for murder.” He commented and your eyes went wide.

Taking a look at your reaction, a small chuckle left the depths of his throat. “Relax, I’m just kidding. I don’t have a record – I’m just a broke college student trying to make ends meet.” He informed and you could see the honesty in his eyes.

“…Okay,” you added. “But that still doesn’t explain why you were lounging in my pool instead of cleaning it.”

“The guy at the front gate said the owner wouldn’t be home till late,” he stated with a sly smile. “I couldn’t help myself.”

With a look of distain your lips formed into a thin line and Pumpkin suddenly meowed out of the blue, averting both yours and Jungkook’s attention to the fluffy cat.

“And who’s this cutie?” Jungkook cooed while bringing his hand forward and attempting to pet him. “His name is Pumpkin,” you informed just as his hand grazed Pumpkin’s fur. However, the cat quickly snapped his head up and nipped at the pool boy. “Ow!” Jungkook cried out and snapped his hand back with a pained look.

“Pumpkin isn’t very fond of strangers,” you explained and Jungkook shot you a knowing look.

“I can see that,” he sarcastically mumbled with a flick of his hand and you caught a glimpse of the bloody little nip your cat had indented onto his finger.

You put Pumpkin down and rushed back towards the outdoor bar, grabbing a bandage out of the first aid kit and making your way towards Jungkook.

“Here,” you offered while unwrapping the small item.

Jungkook kept his eyes fixed on you as you took his hand and wrapped the bandage around his finger.

Within that brief moment the two of you were silent – but little did you know he was examining your features. Staying perfectly still and admiring every detail of your delicate face while you were carefully concentrating on the task at hand.

As soon as you were done you stepped back and Jungkook stopped to finally view the new accessory.

“Thanks,” he said while you picked up your cat.

“There’s more in the cabinet if that one gets soiled,” you informed and he nodded in response, watching as you started to make your way back inside before you felt him staring.

“As for earlier,” you clarified while suddenly turning around. “I hope you don’t expect to get paid for lounging in my pool...”

The mischievous Jungkook cocked an eyebrow at your remark and embarrassingly ran a hand through his damp hair. “No, sorry. It won’t happen again.” He stated. “I’ll start cleaning the filters now.”

Taking note of the way he looked when he was embarrassed, you cracked a smile. “Sounds good,” you finally stated before leaving the new pool boy – not being able to catch the cheeky grin that crawled upon his face soon afterwards.

~*~

For the next couple of weeks you saw Jungkook every Friday. It was almost like a routine – coming home from a long day of work to find your pool boy already settled in your backyard and diligently cleaning while blasting music from the radio you had stationed outside.

And as accustomed, today was no different.

Walking into your home, you were swift to kick off your heels and throw off your blazer – feeling immediate comfort while being greeted by a lazy fat cat.

A warm smile adorned your face and you cooed to Pumpkin while running a hand over his soft fur in affection. “Sleep well?” You chimed at the sight of Pumpkin’s content face before gazing up to the open window nearby.

From there, you had a view of a busy Jungkook. He was working hard, concentrating on spraying out the pool filters one by one as if he held all the patience in the world. He was dressed casual in a loose muscle tank with gaping holes for the arms and showing a generous side view of his torso on each side. You noticed his brown hair was carelessly tucked beneath his backwards cap completed with a pair of his usual loose shorts hanging onto to his hips.

His expression was focused and held a sense of peace before a large bee suddenly flew near his face – startling the man within seconds and attempting to spray the insect away with the water hose. You found yourself giggling in the moment, watching the entertaining Jungkook vs. Bee fight going on before he looked your way.

And as soon as he caught your stare, he ceased all action.

He stood there like a still-life, staring at you through his new black rimmed sunglasses before throwing a simple wave your way.

You hadn’t realized how long you had been watching him or how many seconds it had been since he had caught you, but you felt your eyes pop out when it finally dawned on you that you had been caught.

With an immediate gasp you tore your eyes away, pretending to look somewhere – anywhere else besides him as a wash of embarrassment stained your cheeks.

However, Jungkook was chuckling to himself outside – amused by your interest as he simply tilted his shades down the bridge of his nose to get a better look at your flustered state from inside.

“Shit,” you scolded yourself with a nail biting grimace. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Great, he probably thinks I’m a creep.

Looking away still, you wondered if he had already diverted his attention back to the pool before the doorbell suddenly startled you.

Glancing at the time you quirked a brow and questioned who would be at your home at this time before cautiously making your way for the door. “Who is it?” You shouted to the stranger on the other side before taking the extra step to glance through the peep hole.

As soon as you looked, a surprised smile immediately tugged at your lips and within seconds you pulled open the door to reveal none other than your best friend in the entrance.

“Surprise!” She beamed and you instantly pulled her in for a hug. 

“Erin! What are you doing here? I thought you left to London already?” You asked as you opened the door further, motioning for her to come in and make herself at home.

“I thought I’d pay my best friend a little visit before I catch my flight.” Erin answered with a steady plop on the couch. “How have you been?” She added.

“Good,” you quickly muttered – it was an instant robotic response to a question you’ve gotten countless times after you filed for divorce.

Once news broke out about your husband’s infidelity, you suddenly became the “poor soul” to the matter. It was as if everything had changed from one day to the next as friends, family and colleagues who all held you to the highest esteem, suddenly treated you like a naïve victim to it all.

People would often say things like: “Y/N should forgive him and take him back,” or “She must be really dumb to not have noticed he was cheating earlier.” Or “Poor Y/N, she must have been so distraught.”

And while all but that last one may have been false, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat annoyed when people would assume that you’re the one still suffering in the end.

So there was a brief moment of silence after your answer, leaving you in an uncomfortable position as your friend stared at you from the living room. She gave you a look – as if she was waiting for further explanation before you felt the need to speak up again.

“Seriously Erin, I’m fine.” You explained. “Don’t be like everyone else and think that I spend my days crying over my ex-husband for god’s sake.”

“Oh no, I know you better than that.” She said with a smirk. “I knew you wouldn’t waste your time on him once you found out the truth.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t,” you laughed before bringing over two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“Besides…” Erin suddenly added, her eyes widening as her gaze caught a view of the backyard. “I see you have something much more interesting right outside your backdoor anyways…” She purred with a devious smile.

As soon as you finished pouring the wine, you looked up to meet the same line of vision as hers – mouth nearly dropping as you spotted Jungkook in the distance.

“That’s Jungkook, he’s just the pool boy.” You subtly informed while bringing your full attention back to the wine in front of you.

“Just the pool boy?” She suggestively enticed with a wiggle of her brows and you gasped.

“Yes Erin. Just the pool boy – nothing else.” You playfully scolded and she giggled.

“Oh c’mon, what a waste. I bet he can do way better things than scrub cement and clean pool filters all day.”

“No, he’s just a college kid. I’m older than him-”

“So? That would just make you a cougar,” she grinned and with a burst of laughter you nearly choked on your drink, cautiously swallowing the strong liquid before letting out an exasperated breath. “You’re crazy.”

“-And he’s hot.” Erin snapped back before getting an alert on her phone. “Ah – it’s my boss. I have to catch my flight.” She groaned before downing the remainder of her wine and jolting off the couch.

“But you just got here,” you whined.

“Duty calls,” Erin commented and you followed her out towards the front door. “I’ll see you when I come back,” she added. “But while I’m gone, go out for once.”

“And why would I do that?” You snorted before she arched a brow.

“Because I know you too well.” She answered. “You’re like a queen stuck in her palace all day long. Go out and explore – you never know what you might encounter right outside the palace walls.” She added with a mischievous grin and took a quick glance at Jungkook before abruptly closing the door behind her.

…And before you knew it she was gone, leaving you with only her ending words as you stood there in the living room.

“Stuck in the palace, hmph.” You mocked with a frown before walking away.

You paced around the kitchen, filling your wine glass once more and taking generous sips every now and then before averting your attention back to the large window.

The sun’s harsh rays were beating down Jungkook’s skin as sweat droplets fell down the sides of his face. Judging by his perplexed state you knew it had to be at least 80 degrees (F) outside.

But despite the heat, he worked diligently – ignoring the uncomfortable condition and focusing on his work.

So you grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and stepped outside, eyes wincing from the bright sunlight and making your way to the pool boy.

“Hey,” you called. “It’s too hot, you can finish another day.”

Jungkook watched as you came from the other side of the pool, holding a water bottle in one hand and a half filled wine glass in the other. “Nah, I’m fine” the man replied. “A little heat never hurt me.” He teased before taking the water and uttering a thanks.

“Confident aren’t you?” You replied as he swiftly twisted the cap and took a long swig of the drink.

You noticed a few drops of water spilled out from the corner of his mouth, proceeding to drip down the surface of his jaw and along his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down from drinking.

Before you knew it, Jungkook had finished the bottle and let out a satisfying “Ah,” in response.

“What happened to the heat being nothing?” You smirked while taking the empty bottle from him.

The pool boy grinned as he looked at you through his sunglasses, “Just thirsty that’s all.”

“I see,” you hummed. “Well I’ll leave you to it then…”

“Wait-” Jungkook urged – causing you to temporarily halt.

In that moment he felt like he had lost the ability to speak – catching your attention so suddenly had put him in a position of nervousness and for a moment he mentally scolded himself for acting on his thoughts and speaking up so abruptly.

“I-I could use another water,” he informed hastily.

You looked at him for a second longer, noting the urgency in his tone before glancing back to your home. “Why don’t you come inside…you know, to cool off for a minute.” You offered and failed to see the way his eyes lit up behind his dark frames.

With a small nod, Jungkook followed you inside your house, throwing off his sunglasses and taking the time to fully gawk at the beauty of it all.

“Nice place,” he stated while plopping down on the couch.

“Thanks,” you answered while grabbing another water and making your way back to the living room. You spotted Jungkook with his arms spread out along the pillows and letting out a sigh in relief as the cool air revived him.

However, while gazing at the elegant curtains and custom decor, he was quick to spot the lack of pictures in your home – merely noticing a few of just you and your friends.

After giving him the drink you at on the couch opposite of him, watching in silence as he downed his second bottle.

“Is it just you that lives here?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask.

You looked at him quizzically “Yeah, how did you guess?”

“…Your pictures – I don’t see a husband or kids.” He responded in a calm manner and you shifted in your seat uncomfortably.

“I don’t have kids…but I did have a husband.”

“What happened?” He further asked and you looked up to see him leaning forward, paying close attention.

Your lips parted and you diverted your gaze downwards as a heavy sigh escaped your throat. Jungkook noticed your uncomfortable stance and snapped out of his curious state as he spoke up. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” you countered. “It’s okay really. I’m just surprised because I thought you knew.”

“Knew?” He raised a brow and you nodded your head. “Yeah, it was all over the paper. Millionaire devil woman gets cheated on by husband. You clarified with a sarcastic laugh.

Jungkook’s expression turned sympathetic as his eyes went wide, watching as you removed a strand of hair out of your face. “-Y/N, I had no idea.”

“You’re the first person to say that to me,” you answered with a small huff and he leaned forward once more, crossing his arms over his chest as he teasingly said, “I don’t read the paper.”

With that you elicited a small laugh, causing him to do the same as he admired the way your face lit up when you did.

“Maybe I shouldn’t either,” you replied and downed the last bit of your wine. “He cheated with a bunch of women to hurt me, no point in still writing about it months later.”

“It’s like people want a reaction or something out of me.” You clarified in defeat. “Everyone has a motive – everyone always wants something.”

Jungkook intently listened to every word. His handsome face studying your own as you spoke with such regret and heartache. “Did you ever think he did out of jealousy?” He suddenly asked and you swallowed hard.

“Jealous? He’s successful-”

“As successful as you?” He corrected and you cocked a brow – stopping mid-sentence to evaluate the thought.

“Well n-no.” You muttered and Jungkook nodded his head. “That would have to be the only explanation.” He added. “I mean why else? You’re smart and not to mention fucking beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You smiled and patted his hand. “You’re sweet, but I don’t think he saw it that way,” you commented. “Relationships are overrated.” You then added with a sarcastic laughed. “I think I’ll stay single for a while.”

“Or be with someone better,” Jungkook immediately responded and your eyes locked with his – instantly getting lost within the depths of warm hues of brown that made up his iris. He was closer to you now, looking at you intently and meaning every word he said as you were at a loss for words.

And that’s when you looked down, finally realizing that your fingers were intertwined with his…

Your breath quickened and your heart pounded against your chest before quickly standing up and grabbing your wine glass. Taking cues from you Jungkook stood up as well, letting out an inward groan. “I should get back to the pool.” He announced while throwing his shades on.

“Okay,” you merely nodded before you heard the backdoor shut, signaling he was gone.

But even though he was gone, you could still feel the pounding of your heart against your chest, knowing all too well that it was racing because of him.

~*~ “Jesse, this is getting ridiculous. Stop calling me at work.” You scolded while bringing the phone to your ear for what felt like the thousandth time today.

“I’m know I’m really sorry, but your ex-husband is still insisting the cat go to him. He’s given you two weeks�� notice and he’s threatening to go to court if you still refuse-” he continued his tangent before you abruptly hung up.

“I really can’t deal with this right now,” you sighed while tossing your phone and putting your head on your desk.

It had been a long, tiring day at work with constant meetings and your ex-husband and his lawyers weren’t making it any easier for you.

“Um, Miss.” One of your secretaries gently spoke up from the doorway, “You don’t look so good, maybe you should go home early and rest.”

Your raised your eyebrows as the thought of going home seemed like the best remedy for the impact of stress you were feeling all day. Slowly peeping your head up, you took a glance at the secretary in front of you. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” You muttered before grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

~*~

The sun’s rays heated your skin as you laid there lazily in your floral bikini, letting a deep breath out in relief as sweet sounds of Lana Del Rey’s voice filled your ears. The music was loud, drowning out any thought of your messy divorce and stress from work. You had her music on repeat for the last hour, listening non-stop while sun bathing and plopping a few grapes in your mouth every so often.

You grabbed the sunscreen nearby and began to reapply the soothing cream over your shoulders, placing it over the heated patches of skin.

…That was until one of your earphones was suddenly pulled out.

The sudden action startled your relaxed state, sending you into a frenzy as you quickly sat up in your recliner and looked up at the cause of your anger.

And yet standing there…was none other than your pool boy, Jungkook.

He was casually standing beside you, looking down with an amused gaze and arms crossed over each other.

“Jungkook,” you scolded. “What are you doing here?”

“Its 4 pm I’m here to clean.” He responded with ease and your mouth gaped before checking the time on your phone for confirmation.

“Oh,” you muttered while getting up. “Didn’t realize it was that late already.”

And it was at this moment that you caught Jungkook’s eyes on you. If you weren’t so close, you wouldn’t have been able to notice, but you were able to see his gaze lingering, dragging those dark eyes from your face and down your body in admiration.

“You’re leaving?” He simply asked, attempting to keep his gaze discreet as possible.

He stayed put until you came back outside with an envelope in hand. “Before I forget, this is for you.” You said while handing it to Jungkook.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“This week’s pay – along with some extra cash for a new phone.” You added and he laughed, motioning to the pool as his was ruined from the day he dropped it.

“That’s nice of you but the phone was my fault. I shouldn’t have been in the pool.” He stated and you scoffed. “Wow such a change of mind since you started. Just think of it as a gift for putting up with me.” You said with a laugh while laying back down and he smiled.

“Yeah you’re a pain.” He confessed and your mouth went agape, feigning a fake gasp and earning a chuckle from him.

“You know I’m just playing,” Jungkook gushed and got closer, laying the envelope on the table beside him. “I like being here with you.”

“No need to lie Jungkook,” you huffed. “I know the only thing on young guy’s minds is beer, parties and pretty young girls.”

The pool boy then cocked his head, grabbing the sunscreen and leaning closer to you as he then said, “Not quite.”

“Oh, excuse me.” You baffled jokingly. “Pretty college girls.

Jungkook simply smiled, squirting some of the cream into his hands before gently rubbing it onto your back. “Nah, they don’t do it for me – too immature.”

You felt goosebumps raise on your skin upon his sudden touch, feeling a rush of excitement as your heart pounded shortly afterwards but not wanting him to stop either.

“Is that so?” You casually asked, provoking him to continue.

He kept his eyes on you, even feigning his signature smirk as he rubbed his clean thumb just beneath the curve of his plump bottom lip. “…I guess you could say I have a newfound attraction to older women.”

You let out a light hum as his hands grazed through the surface of your back, caressing every inch with sunscreen as it slowly turned into a massage. He worked his thumbs into your shoulder blades, pressing firmly and loosening the muscles beneath. “That feel good?” He asked and you nodded your head in content.

Jungkook continued his strokes, proceeding to drag his hands back down your spine until they reached the rim of your bikini. Silently his eyes wandered over the curve of your ass, perfectly round with the floral bikini strings tightened around the sides of your hips.

In that moment he began mentally scolding himself. Having an inner battle with his mind and his lower half as he tore his eyes away from your body.

But soon enough he found himself looking once more – this time gazing up towards the single string that held your top together. It was fastened ever so slightly, with a simple bow laying against your glistening back he found it hard to take his eyes off.

After moments of feeling the loss of his touch, you spoke up. “Jungkook,” you mumbled. “You still there?”

When there was no response you decided to turn around, thinking the man had left before you realized he was still beside you.

You locked eyes with him, a brief second of confusion coming over your features as he eyed you with a half lidded gaze. You noticed his jaw was clenched while he bit hard on his bottom lip.

“Jungkook, what is it?” You curiously asked.

Heavy breaths heaved beneath his chest and for a mere second he almost lost the confidence to ask but ensued anyways.

“…Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes blared wide, looking at him as a slight blush crept upon your cheeks. This was your pool boy you were looking at – a mere college guy who had no business asking an esteemed older woman such a thing. Both of you were at two very different points in your lives and with your messy divorce and stressful life you were at no such position to be messing around with him.

But that still didn’t stop you from saying, “Please.”

And just like that the threat of rejection dissipated from Jungkook’s mind as he leaned in, cracking a smile just as his mouth captured yours. His lips were soft and plump against your own, moving in sync as he positioned his hand just below your jaw for support.

The kiss lingered for a moment longer as Jungkook had only asked for such – wanting more but not wanting to step over any boundaries you weren’t comfortable with.

So he looked at you as your lips slightly parted, watching with a close gaze as if asking for permission to go further.

Gazing at the handsome man in front of you, you admired his sincerity – simply smiling while running your fingers through his dark locks. “Jungkook,” you whispered against his lips. “Don’t hold back with me.”

His orbs were dark and filled with lust, taking that as all the confirmation he needed as he didn’t waste a single second in closing the space between you and gently guiding you against the recliner. The back of your head rested against the cushion and Jungkook’s body hovered over yours as he leaned in to connect your lips once more.

“I won’t,” he promised in between a slew of sloppy kisses. “Not anymore.”

Your eyes fluttered close as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close and pressed against you as his tongue explored the depths of your mouth. Just like you wanted, Jungkook didn’t hold back. His kissed you good and hard, bruising your lips with his own just as your tongues entangled with one another.

He proceeded to lift you with ease, sliding one of his hands against your back and untying the pink bow to your top within a single try.

Expert you thought and he shot you a teasing smirk while allowing your top to fall to the ground beneath you. “I’d been waiting to do that,” he slyly confessed and kissed you once more – groping your breasts with a single hand while the other held your face close to his.

Jungkook couldn’t believe this moment, this very moment he had imagined for weeks had finally come. The woman he adorned since the beginning was lying there just for him. He made sure to make the most of it, pleasuring you in the best ways possible as he showered you with hot, sensual kisses and sucking at all your sweet spots – knowing damn well you would have to wear a turtleneck for work in the morning.

Exasperated sighs left the two of you while your lips smacked against one another, both nearly catching a breath every now and then as you were inseparable.

You hissed through your teeth as his hand gripped your thigh, bringing his full attention to it as he then pressed his lips to the skin and began sucking down a trail of kisses towards your heat.

“Your ex,” he simply stated. “I may never get why he did what he did – but that was his damn loss.”

“Glad you think so,” you laughed and he moved his lips up to kiss you once more. “I know so,” Jungkook admitted. “You don’t need him to make you feel special.”

“-You don’t need him to make you feel good,” he continued with another kiss to your neck, gently biting the delicate skin while his tongue swirled around, tasting every inch of you.

“And why is that?” You managed to mutter out in a cohesive whimper.

Strands of his dark hair fell upon the rim of his brows as he brought his eyes back up to meet yours, taking the extra time to see the feigned look of doubt in your eyes until he said: “Because I’m here now.”

You stared at him, admiring the way his eyes lit up when he looked at you. His lips were swollen to a deep red hue and glistening wet from contact with your own while his hair was in a rugged mess. Bringing your fingers up to his hair once more, you carefully ran them through it while inching in closer – bringing his lips back to your own in a soft yet oh-so tantalizing kiss.

He let out a deep groan from within as you sucked on his lower lip, even biting the soft flesh while you then hands ran against the wide expanse of his back – allowing your fingers to feel up every indentation of muscle along the smooth surface.

But that wasn’t enough for Jungkook – no. He craved your touch like the desert craved water and before you knew it, he was removing the simple white tee from his body and begging you to continue as he took one of your nipples into his mouth.

A slew of “oh’s” and muffled whines escaped your lips, holding onto him while he continued to pleasure you. Seeing you like this beneath him only caused the tent in his pants to grow harder as he could feel how wet you were for him even over your bathing suit bottom.

“Come here baby,” he huskily ordered while sitting on a chair nearby and pulling you up to him – fixating you on his lap and pushing your hair to one side.

You sighed as he pressed his lips to the bare side of your neck, licking and puckering his way from the crevice and to your collarbone.

“Jungkook,” you whispered against him, rolling your neck as his lips continued their teasing – keeping you occupied until one of his fingers traced along the rim of your thinly clothed bottom.

Don’t hold back. Your words echoed through his ears over and over. As if in a carnal trance, Jungkook proceeded to pull at the strings alongside your hips, untying them simultaneously and cupping your soaked heat.

You let out a shuddered sigh, eyeing him closely just as you pushed his shorts higher up and began to grind against his bare thigh. He let out a deep groan and his large hands squeezed your ass, positioning you perfectly against him while sweet moans stemmed from your lips.

“Fuck,” he cursed with a shaky breath, watching in awe as you pleasured yourself against him. You gripped onto his back when you felt one of his hands rub against you from behind – teasing your sex ever so slightly.

“I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” he moaned against your neck just as he moved a finger between your bodies and inserted it into the depths of your warmth. You whimpered just as he stretched you out, proceeding with a few pumps just as he inserted another finger.

A few more curses spilled out of your mouth and you were clawing onto Jungkook’s shoulders as your hips rolled along his rhythmic thrusts. His own breath was raised and he watched with half lidded eyes as his slippery fingers drove in and out of you – curling them both up and aimed at your g-spot while you cried out his name through a mix of sinful sounds.

Your moans were driving him insane, to hear you crying out his name in such a way had every vein running and every muscle contracting within him. He was hard beyond matters and would be lying if he said he didn’t look back at the recliner behind you every now and then just to flip you back on it and fuck you till the next day.

But despite his own erotic desire to have you – he knew that this moment was all about you, wanting to please you and you only as your pleasure mattered more to him than his own as maybe – just maybe if he was lucky enough there would be a next time.

So there you were, being pleasured to the point of what felt like absolute heaven. He pumped continuously, even inserting a third finger until you screamed out his name in one last stance of your orgasm as your juices dripped down his leg.

You fell against Jungkook in a sweaty mess, cheek pressed against his chest as the two of you attempted to regain your staggered breathing. You could hear his heart pounding from within as he still felt a range of nerves and excitement just from being around you.

“How are you even real?” Jungkook exclaimed to you as he caressed your naked body.

“I could say the same to you,” you cooed. “You sure know how to make a girl feel good.”

“Mmm, I get that a lot,” he teased and you picked your head up in response.

“Damn college kid,” you huffed and he laughed before you checked the time upon his request.

“It’s almost 6,” you answered.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

“Got somewhere to be?” You curiously asked.

“I have another pool cleaning at 6,” the man replied and you gasped.  

“You need to go then,” you urged and Jungkook cocked a brow at you. “Why? I rather stay here with you,” he simply replied and you rolled your eyes.

“As much as I like the idea of that, you’ll get yourself fired.” You replied as you got up and grabbed a towel from the cabana.

While you were gone, Jungkook eyed the check beside him – glaring at the paper envelope before you came back.

“Still worth it,” he cooed with a cocky smile before cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips to your own. You kissed him back with as much urgency, allowing it to linger more than it should have before breaking away with a loud smack of your lips. “Go,” you laughed.

“You’re something else,” Jungkook commented with a smile, finally letting go of your pretty face and running his fingers through his hair in amazement.

You tossed him his t-shirt and watched as he threw it on swiftly.

“I’ll be back on Sunday” he announced with a wave as he began to make his way towards the back gate.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you flashed him a smile from afar, “To see me?” You asked.

“No, to finish cleaning the pool.” He replied with a devious smile just before shooting you a wink.

You laughed and turned around to go back inside just before noticing the envelope that you had given him still sitting on the small table. “Jungkook! You forgot your check-” You began to shout until something caught your eye mid-sentence.

It was a message.

Little did you know the pool boy had purposefully left the money there with you – only leaving a simple written message behind as there, in his signature messy handwriting was a four small words that read…

“I only need you.”

[hilariousandunappreciated]

One Day At A Time

word count: 2.6k

summary: Moments throughout the years in the Howell-Lester household. Moments that define their life now. Moments that make it all worth it.

ao3 | quotev

A/N: After a good 3 weeks of not being motivated and not writing at all, I have returned with very fluffy parent!phan (because of course it is.)

I wanted to base a fic off of a song so the title/lyrics are from One Day At A Time by Sam Smith, a song in my phan playlist and one that I really love. It just reminds me that things are not always easy but no matter what happens, we have our friends and/or family and we can just take things one day at a time, no rush, no need to have our life together and sorted. It is a reminder that everything is going to be okay :) Enjoy <3 (note at the end as well!)

1. But I got everything I need, baby, in the palms of your touch / in world of dark distractions, it can all get too much

    Silence. A pin could drop and it might have sounded like a crash. The air was haltingly still. It was charged. But not electric. Peaceful, rather.

    Dan was curled into the side of the couch, face resting in the grey cushion, shoulder leaving a dent in the already creased fabric. His legs curled into his chest, arms wrapped around his middle, sweater paws of his black fluffy jumper comforting him. His eyelids drooped with exhaustion after spending nearly an hour getting the kids to settle for a nap. They would put up a fit, struggle, yell, kick, whine. And it was never unusual but it was enough to knock Dan and Phil out. Naptime for Suze and Dil was almost always naptime for them. And if not, it was a time to catch up on work that never got done when needy children were always in tow.

    Dan snuggled into the sofa and his shoulders relaxed from his ears as he sighed into his position. Sleep laced his eyelashes and fogged his thoughts. Phil sat on a chair against the opposite wall, laptop carefully propped on his legs and brows furrowed in concentration. He was no doubt trying to finish something important while there was finally peace in their (somewhat) hectic household. Dan listened and observed silently as Phil typed. click clack click Phil slouched. click A slender finger came up to adjust his glasses. click clack He leaned forward ever so slightly clack click click His forehead creased a little more. In the meantime, Dan admired these mannerisms as if they had meaning. As if Phil adjusting his glasses was his intelligence. His slouch was his tireless work. His lean towards the screen was his dedication, not only to his work but to his family. Dan smiled softly and let his mind melt with the light clicking, the smooth fabric of the sofa lulling him further into his subconscious. His heart didn't swell, he did not feel particularly passionate, but he felt a simple feeling, a miniature twinge in his heart.

    “I love you,” he called to Phil, sleep slurring the consonants only a little.

Phil looked up, face a glow from the screen. He smiled in reply, lips curling up and eyes softening at the words. Dan finally gave in and let his mind take him to a land of dreams.

    When he awoke, his space blanket had been tucked around his long limbs and he heard the babble of parent and toddler from the kitchen.

2. I know you're feeling weighed down tonight, and you can't find the breaks / every day is too long for you, you are sworn to your fate

    It was an exhausting day. Dan had been awake since 9am, preparing to go to two meetings that had been scheduled last month. He wished he could skip them but he had no excuse except for the fact that he slept a whopping four hours the night before. And he didn't want to go. That would be of no significance to the important execs at either meeting. So he went. Several hours of planning, talking about Young Minds. New ideas. New missions. New accomplishments. Dan found it interesting but his eyelids betrayed him and he desperately tried to hold in the yawns pushing to escape. But he made it.

     He walked up the porch steps grudgingly, legs a little sore and headache nudging the back of his head and pulsing in his temples. Damnit. He needed to sleep properly. The key turned in the lock and he was immediately met with the melodic sound of indie pop flowing into the front room. His headache pushed further at each note, crescendo, beat. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to ground himself. All he wanted was to come home and fall face first into bed. But now there was music twisting the pain in his head and he was ready to snap.

     Dan threw his slick, black coat aside in frustration and followed the source of excess noise. Down the hall the music grew a little louder and each repeat of a chorus brought him closer to his bedroom, light filtering through the cracked open door. Dan squinted at the sound, eventually taking a hand and pushing the door ajar to investigate.

     The light hit his eyes and Dan did his best to ignore his throbbing head. He peered through the doorway to find Phil, Suzie, and Dil, dancing in circles to the ridiculous tune, arms waving and feet kicking. Dan found Phil stooped over, hands grasped tightly to Suzie's small pale ones, holding on to her and spinning and stepping awkwardly as her feet stepped on top of his. Phil was beaming and towards the corner little Dil wildly danced in circles and squealed in delight.

     Dan's irritation and pessimism melted each second he watched them twirl and flap limbs around in a sloppy excuse for dancing. His near scowl melted into an admiring smile and he stepped into the room just as the music came to a stop. Phil turned to see a tired, smiling Dan and released Suzie from his grip. She followed Phil's line of sight and ran to hug Dan's leg, auburn curls a  mess. Dil ran after her and grabbed Dan's hand, tugging.

“Hi, babe,” Phil greeted breathlessly. His eyes sparkled and he strode to where Dan was standing, two kids hanging off of him.

    “Daddy! Papa was dancing with us!” Dil piped up.

    “That's great, bud! I bet it was fun,” Dan replied softly, tired tone seeping through the words despite his efforts to sound enthusiastic.

Phil gave him a knowing look.

    “Yeah! You should come dance, too!” Suzie was all giggles as she hopped with each word of her suggestion.

But Phil knew. He read Dan like familiar literature, the creases around his mouth and forehead, the slouch dragging him a little lower than normal, voice slower and softer. Phil gazed at Dan and offered a sympathetic smile.

    “I think Daddy can dance with us another time, let's go back into the lounge, you can pick out a movie,” Phil patted Suzie's back as he spoke as if to urge her out of the room.

Phil fixed his hand around Dil’s shoulder and ushered him gently to the door. The kids skipped out and down the hall in front of Phil before he reached out and squeezed Dan's hand. His other hand landed on Dan's arm, thumb tracing a circle there.

    “Go ahead and rest, I can still handle the kids,” Phil leaned in and pressed a kiss in between Dan's crossed brows.

Phil released Dan's hand and walked back to the door.

    “Okay, love you,” Dan sighed, making his way to the bed.

    “Love you, too,” and Phil slipped out the door.

3. But we got everything we need baby, in the memories we make / in a world of reinvention, it's never too late

    Phil's eyes hesitantly opened, sleep still playing at the corners of his mind and his dreams slowly fading. He fished for his glasses on his nightstand and slipped them on before glancing at the time glowing on his phone screen. 12pm. Oh shit, he thought, I didn't mean to sleep this late. He knew Dan was probably up with the kids and he felt guilty for sleeping so long and not helping out when he should have. He reached up to rub the confusion from his heavy eyelids and moved to get out of bed. As he pushed up from the warm mattress, he heard the echoes of the piano from upstairs. Phil's thoughts shifted.Why would Dan be playing now? He had not practiced for three weeks and usually waited until the evening. His train of thought was confused further when the smooth transition of notes became clumsy plops of random notes. Then a cacophonous medley of sorts. Oh, Phil pondered,  I think Dil has discovered the piano. Phil dressed and ventured up the stairs to Dan's piano room. The door was shut and the sour notes continued to sound from the room, until, once again a mellifluous string of notes followed. Phil tentatively turned the knob and looked into the room, stepping quietly.

    The scene revealed made Phil giggle to himself. Dil sat in Dan's lap, leaning forward and reaching toward the ivory keys while Dan attempted to guide his chubby little fingers along the right notes. Dil's eyes were vibrant with excitement and curiosity at this new discovery that he was fortunate enough to have (mostly) to himself. Suzie was content in the corner of the room, crayons scattered on the carpet and coloring book open in front of her, the tip of her tongue peeking out from the side of her mouth in concentration. She laid on her stomach, legs up in the air and swishing back forth back forth. Her forehead was crinkled with determination. She was a serious artist.

    Phil's heart melted and he couldn't help but laugh as Dan once again picked up Dil's hands to try and position them on the keys, but Dil stubbornly smashed his hands wherever they landed. Dan's patience was beginning to wear thin. At the sound of Phil's musical laugh which contrasted the reckless piano bashing, Dan turned his head to find Phil laughing and smiling to himself in the corner.

    “Wot?” Dan asked, a defensive tone raising his pitch.

Phil shook his head and giggled again.

     “What?” Dan persisted, tone more serious the second time.

Phil's arm hugged his middle as he tried to control the chuckle seizing his belly.

     “What are you doing?” Phil questioned, pitch higher with each word.

Dan kept an arm around a giddy Dil, still poking and smashing keys intermittently.

     “Thought I would teach him some piano,” Dan's face shifted as if he suddenly understood how silly that sounded. Yeah, nothing like giving your toddler piano lessons, “you know, gotta start 'em early and all,” he finished.

Phil's giggle bubbled from his throat again, just as a loud F sharp interrupted.

     “It's cute,” Phil commented, and Dan smiled in response.

Phil entered the room fully and hovered behind Dan, watching Dil's chubby hands navigate the otherwise sophisticated instrument. Dan's legs bounced Dil up and down as Phil leaned down to peck Dil's brunet waves.

     “I'll leave you to it, then. At this rate maybe we’ll have star pianist someday,” Phil teased.

He turned his face to Dan's and pressed a gentle kiss to Dan's temple, earning two smiles as Dil squealed excitedly and Dan looked up to read Phil's expression. Satisfied with what he found, Dan turned back to Dil.

     “Okay, now we'll start with middle C…”

Phil turned on his heels and headed down the stairs to make lunch.

4.   so let’s sit by an English river til the water runs dry / There is nothin' that we've done wrong that can't be made right / We’re neither saints or sinners so leave your history behind / Let’s grab a bottle and take it one day at a time

     Phil had come home to a shockingly quiet house. Two little kids never allowed for this and Phil raised his eyebrows in surprise as he peered into the front room. It was only mid-morning and Dil would normally be running around and playing boisterously. But this time as he greeted his home once again, he found no stumbling toddler, no toys scattered around the lounge, no delightful screams bouncing off the walls. Silence.

    Phil shrugged off his jacket to hang by the front door as he pondered what made this environment so magically quiet this morning. Phil felt satisfied in that moment; he had just come home from walking Suzie to school without any incident and though the air was getting chilled and the weather a little more dreary, the walk was pleasant and the air was crisp. He listened to Suzie's silly babbling as she recounted her adventures from her first year in school. Her voice was calming to listen to; she chirped as she skipped along the pavement and occasionally reached up to hold Phil's hand, warming his heart all the way through his jacket. She was lovely and the sweetest little girl Phil could have ever imagined even though things weren't always easy. Today she had skipped off to school with no problem when he dropped her off and cheerfully made her way inside. Phil was just relieved that everyone survived the morning.

     Phil stepped into the lounge, turning his head in search of Dan or Dil, but to no avail. Nothing in the kitchen. No sound from the piano room. No one in the office. Finally Phil creaked open his bedroom door and glanced around the room. Dan was lying in bed still, sheets wrinkled around his legs, sweatpants lazily slipped over his legs. But contrary to earlier, Dil sat on Dan's bare chest, giggles sounding through his tiny body. His eyes were covered with his delicate hands before he suddenly revealed them and exclaimed to Dan, “boo!” Dan feigned a shocked face immediately, “aah!”

Dil erupted in giggles all over again, and he moved to cover his eyes a second time as if he were teaching Dan this game. Phil laughed just as Dil's hands flew from his eyes again, “boo!” and Dan acted surprised. Dil squealed laughter. At the sound of Phil laughing and approaching the bed, Dan turned his head to greet his spouse.

     “Look, Dil! Papa's home,” Dan explained, somewhat unnecessarily as Dil was already reaching up with grabby hands for Phil to pick him up.

Phil's arms wrapped up Dil and he held him close to his chest.

    “Papa! Daddy game!”

Phil ruffled Dil's frizzy brunet waves, “I see that! You played a game with Daddy?”

Dil nodded his head and held an arm around Phil's neck, “Yes! Play game!”

Phil grinned from ear to ear, matching Dil's joyful expression.

Dan piped up, “You survived the walk to school, then?” A teasing tone rose from his voice, smirk deepening his dimples.

Phil caught on immediately.

    “Yep! Feel like I could run a mile! Two miles!” he expressed as he glanced at Dil for a moment. And as they met each other's eyes, they both laughed.

Dil laughed, too, if only to imitate his dads, and clearly was in a good mood. Phil sat on the bed and toed his shoes off as he sat Dil in between himself and Dan. Dil already began experimenting with his game as Phil settled into the mattress. He leaned down to press a kiss just above Dan's eyebrow, and Dil became louder the less the attention was on him. Dan reached to pull Phil further down for another chaste kiss just as Dil yelled “boo!” It was Phil's turn to feign absolute shock at the outburst and Dil laughed at his facial expression, delighted that his game was eliciting this reaction. Dan and Phil simultaneously grinned at each other, feeling airy and blissful in this moment.

    They were content just like this. The silly, intimate moments mattered just as much as the intimidating, life-changing ones. Moments such as these defined Dan and Phil's life now: playing with the kids, taking short breaks when they could, teaching them, walking them to school, watching them grow. Moments to get married, to buy a new house, to move, to adopt kids were monumental. But they would not compare to playing peek-a-boo, letting the kids play the piano, napping together after an exhausting afternoon. Times when things were peaceful. Times when Dan and Phil knew they had the world. Right here. In the hands of their little ones and each other. And here they were: taking things one day at a time.

A/N #2 is inspired by this tweet from @hey-laura

#3 and #4 inspired by this and this art 

[theresawelchy]

Better Preference Predictions: Tunable and Explainable Recommender Systems

Ad recommendations should be understandable to the individual consumer, but is it possible to increase interpretability without sacrificing accuracy?

Amber Roberts

Mar 5

Internet of Thing (AWS IoT)

Are you looking to transition into the field of machine learning in Silicon Valley, New York, or Toronto? Apply for the upcoming June session today (Deadline March 25th for SV and NYC) or learn more about the Artificial Intelligence program at Insight!

Are you a company looking to hire AI practitioners? Feel free to get in touch to get involved in the Insight AI Fellows Program.

The Waste of Unwanted Recommendations

How many times has the following scenario happened to you? You return home from work. It’s been a long day and you just want to relax and watch some Netflix. Then you realize your little sister has been watching mermaid TV shows on your account and now you can’t relax because of all the mermaid movie recommendations?!

Maybe that occurrence is specific to me, but it is inevitable for media users to get locked into a negative feedback loop of unwanted/irrelevant ads or recommendations (recs). We are constantly bombarded with recs telling us what to eat, buy, and wear*, yet there is little we can do to understand our recs and even less we can do to tune our preferences efficiently. Not only are undesired or irrelevant recs wasting our time, but they are also costing media companies millions of dollars every year. Media companies want to give you useful recs to keep you happy and engaged with their platforms, but why do they have such a hard time tuning our individual recommendation preferences? What makes this process so difficult?

*Warning: Do not click on any ads for yoga pants or you will be forever locked in a negative feedback legging ad loop.

As machine learning (ML) algorithms increase in popularity and the “black boxes” of neural networks in deep learning (DL) become the industry standard, pulling out the demographic information and the user history responsible for each undesired rec becomes next to impossible to achieve. How much do we need to sacrifice in performance to gain accessibility? That is the million dollar (industry) question.

Scientists and engineers have long acknowledged a speed vs. accuracy tradeoff in tech fields, but in the recent booming world of artificial intelligence (AI), we are now entering a trade-off between sophisticated models and the interpretability of their predictions. This lack of transparency in recs is what led me to build my own recommender system (RS) called Project Orient as an Insight AI Fellow. Project Orient is a movie RS where the attributes that determine the recs are not only explainable but actually tunable to the individual consumer. With a pipeline built from ML, simple geometry and novel hacks, Orient serves as a proof of concept for a tunable and explainable RS.

Feel free to follow along with Orient via:

Downloaded the command line user interface from my GitHub repository and/or checking out the source code.

Streamlit’s 🎬 Movie Recommendation Engine — a guide to making Orient! Set up in 4 parts corresponding to the 4 weeks of an Insight project: Week1 | Week2 | Week3 | Week4.

The Movie RS Pipeline

Let’s start our journey into Orient by understanding a typical movie RS pipeline with a user — We will call him Tom. Tom, has a list of personal attributes and a set of criteria for his movie recs. In order to address the cold start problem, I will consider Tom a new user and will generate recommendations for him without any knowledge of his past movie ratings. The first step, in this case, is to match Tom with a set of similar users and then to make movie recs for Tom based on their movie ratings.

RS pipeline

Recommender systems have two main filtering methods: content-based filtering and collaborative filtering. Content-based filtering recommends items similar to the user’s past purchases, but it does not typically incorporate modern ML methods. Collaborative filtering (CF) on the other hand can be divided into Item-Item CF (“Users who liked this item also liked …”) and User-Item CF (“Users who are similar to you also liked …”). Some RS’s use one type of filtering, while other systems use a hybrid approach, I focused on a User-Item CF model for Orient.

Dataset

Since the usefulness of CF models is dependent on how large and robust your dataset is, I will be using the MovieLens Dataset complete with 100K movie ratings, 1,682 movies, and 943 users (with the same latent attributes as Tom). If you are following along with my GitHub repo feel free to download the 1M/10M/20M datasets for a larger variety of recent movies (but use with caution as the file structure may have changed).

Tom’s Orient Scenario

Once Tom has entered some characteristics about himself (male, engineer, age 30, from CA) and some movie preferences (genres: action and adventure, minimum average movie rating: 3-star, and the number of movies to be recommended: 3 movies). Using these factors and a cosine similarity function, Orient generates the following three movies for Tom:

Orient’s Movie Recs for Tom

The concept for Orient is that after recs are generated in a given media platform, the user is then given more options to better understand what led to the recs. Ideally, this could be formatted as an information button that the user would click on to fine-tune their own contributed data. In the case of Orient, this info button leads Tom into the movie selection process. Tom is made aware that his movie recommendations are determined from the 10 (Orient’s default) most similar user profiles to his own, where the average similarity is 98%. The number of most similar users, in this case, is a tunable factor. What “tunable factor” means is that Tom can choose to only use the top 5 most similar user profiles or even use the 300 most similar user profiles to generate his movie recommendations. Increasing the number of similar user profiles can generate a more diverse set of movies, but might result in movies Tom would be less interested in.

Tom is also led into the attribute breakdowns of those 10 most similar user profiles and can draw his own conclusions as to the impact his attributes have on his recommendations. For example, all the movies recommended to Tom were rated by male users, and 6 of the 10 most similar user profiles had a technical profession. Tom may be satisfied with these numbers and will move on to enjoy his movie night, or he may choose to further customize his recommendations.

Scaling Attributes

In Orient, any user is able to scale the importance of each of their attributes from 0–100. The key importance in determining which attributes contribute the most to your movie recommendations is how the attributes are scaled in relation to each other. So, if the most important factor for Tom in determining his movie recs is occupation, he must weight that attribute relatively higher than the rest of his attributes.

After Tom scaled his engineering occupation as the highest attribute, his movie recommendations shifted to Sci-Fi! Now that we have seen a brief demo of Orient, let me run you through how Orient was built.

Finding Similar Users

Since I used User-Item CF, I needed to figure out a way to best match Tom with similar users in order to provide movie recommendations. I started with what I call a “one-hot encoded filter” to apply the scaling Tom gave to each of the four attributes (Age, Gender, Location, Occupation) above. This is done by multiplying the normalized scaled value (1 for occupation and 0 for age in Tom’s case) through each corresponding one-hot encoded column. I then use a cosine similarity function to take the most similar user profiles to Tom’s new matrix. I use a cosine similarity of at least .7 as Orient’s default, but this factor can also be changed.

The problem with one-hot encoding is that each attribute vector is equidistant from every other attribute vector. While this is fine for continuous values like age, which fall on a continuous scale and are easy to normalize, one-hot encoding is not ideal for categorical data like occupation, because some occupations are more similar than others. For example, an engineer might have more movies in common with a technician than an entertainer. For this reason, after taking the user profiles that have a similarity score to Tom higher than .7, I used Google’s word2vec and the distance to a given word to vectorize specific attributes. I chose to do this for occupation and gender but would like to extend the idea in the future to more non-binary attributes. I again used a cosine similarity function to find the 10 most similar users to Tom.

Lastly, movies for Tom!

If you’re like me, you probably exit the movie as soon as it ends without bothering to submit a rating... As you might suspect, this leads to a very sparse user-movie matrix (only 7% of the entries are filled). We have to address the sparsity problem before we can give movie recs to Tom. And since some users consistently rate movies conservatively (1–2 stars), while other users are more generous with their movie ratings (4–5 stars), we need to first normalize all user’s movie ratings to have an average of 3 stars.

Next, we use low-dimensional representations to predict user ratings for unseen movies. This is done by decomposing a high dimensional matrix into two lower-dimensional matrices using Keras. Matrix factorization in Keras with an Adam optimizer is used because it outperforms other machine learning algorithms for predicting ratings (Mean Average Error = 0.693). Not only does this address the sparsity issue but, by using matrix factorization, we increase the likelihood of excellent, but not well-known movies being recommended.

Voilà! Now, when Tom gets his movie recommendations he has options for explainability and adjustability. Tom not only can see why these particular movies were recommended to him, but he can also tune his attributes to align with his preferences.

Another interesting result occurs after changing Tom’s gender to female and scaling it to 100 while scaling the three other attributes to 0. This changes Tom’s top Action & Adventure recommendations from Die Hard to Titanic. What we see from this is the bias present in movie recommendations. But what comes first, the click or the recommendation? While this chicken or egg scenario is still up for debate, identifying a way to reduce that bias by tuning the factor directly related to the recommendation is a step in the right direction for putting ad control back in the hands of consumers.

Takeaways

While RS’s take into account many more than 4 attributes in addition to the user history, and are in general much more complex than this method (which was a 4-week project based on a project proposed by Insight), Orient is a proof-of-concept showing that each ad recommendation we receive on media sites can be understood. Neither companies nor consumers benefit from users clearing their history due to irrelevant ads. With the right combination of models and tools, we will be able to adjust our preferences transparently across multiple platforms…and I can finally be rid of the mermaid movies.

For more content like this, follow Insight and Amber on Twitter.

Amber is an astrophysicist and machine learning engineer, after completing the Insight Data Science Fellowship in Artificial Intelligence in fall 2018 she joined Insight as an AI Program Director. She hopes to make meaningful contributions to the field of AI and make STEM fields more approachable through her Astronomer Amber science communication channels.

DataTau published first on DataTau