#Pints Dunn

[gurugirl]

Truth or Dare | slumber party!h

Summary: Y/n's coworker, Harry, has never been to a slumber party so she decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.

A/N: Based off this request. Thanks anon! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6,752

Warning: smut

. . .

By her third glass of chardonnay, her stomach was feeling the acid from the wine but she was having such a good time talking to Harry from the operations department that she didn’t care. She’d have another before calling it a night. Just one more glass so she could sit with him a little longer and listen to him talk and watch as he ran his finger along the edge of his pint glass.

He was probably looking at her like he was because he was also three pints of lager in and he was kind so he was holding eye contact to be polite. Certainly, it wasn’t because he found her attractive (though she’d have welcomed that).

The company’s management meeting was long over and everyone else had gone home but Harry and Y/n stayed for another round. They rarely ever got to talk at the office. She’d always wanted to pick his brain about why he decided to move to the US and how, of all companies, he chose to work at Dunn Services.

Y/n laughed on cue as he mentioned something from his childhood with his sister having her friends over to stay the night. He grinned, a healthy row of teeth aimed at her before he looked down and laughed at himself, “In truth? I never did have a sleepover or anything like that.”

“Really? Surely you had friends…”

Harry nodded, “Oh yeah I had a lot of friends. But I never stayed over at anyone’s and they never came over to mine either. Just… I don’t know. Never happened.”

Placing her nearly empty glass down she turned and waved with a smile as the waitress walked by, “Can we get another round, please?”

“How are you getting home?” Harry asked when she faced him, crossing her leg over her knee toward him.

“Taxi. You?”

“Might walk. I’m not far from here.”

Nodding she placed her elbows on the table, “So, I think that you’ve missed out on an integral right of passage, having never had a slumber party. You should definitely remedy that at some point. I highly recommend a fun sleepover. In fact, if you need pointers on what to do during a sleepover, I’m your gal.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your go-to during a slumber party?” Harry teased before taking another sip of his beer.

“Well, I think there are like two main components. The first is entertainment and I’m always keen on a good movie, or a dumb one, either way… a movie for sure if I’m picking. Some people like to play board games or whatever, but I like to stuff myself into a pile of blankets and pillows and just lie, or drape,” she spoke using her arms to demonstrate herself draping into pillows. “Occasionally, if the mood is right, I’ll enjoy a little truth or dare.”

“Got it. A movie and maybe if the mood is right, truth or dare. And what’s the second component.”

Y/n crossed her fingers together and raised her brows as if she were about to say something very important, “Snacks. Beverages. Good ones. Usually just small bites but here’s my list…” She cleared her throat, “Buttered popcorn, and possibly potato chips. Definitely something chocolatey, and maybe something like a cookie or a snack cake. If not potato chips then tortilla chips and if it’s tortilla chips, salsa should also definitely be on the menu.”

Harry held back the laugh in his throat as he nodded, “Wow. Okay. What about like a burger or Chinese food? Would that be allowed?”

Y/n shrugged, “It’s your party. You can do what you want. I’m just telling you what I’d do and what would be a hit with your sleepover buddy.”

Harry breathed out a laugh. Y/n could tell he was getting bashful. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. She watched him for a few seconds before the waitress returned with their drinks.

A quick gulp of wine and she nudged at his shin with her shoe, “You wanna have a slumber party with me?”

Harry blinked and tilted his head, “What? You mean… Seriously?”

She shrugged, “Why not? Then next time someone asks if you’ve ever had a proper slumber party you can say that you have.”

He laughed loudly, his husky voice was like music to her ears. Pointing at her with his finger he grinned, “Now how I can argue with that? I mean,” he shook his head, a glint in his eye, “Every time someone asks me if I’ve been to a slumber party and I tell them I haven’t, it’s such a disappointment! The look on their faces when they realize my whole childhood was a sham…”

They both laughed, leaning in toward one another, tittering toward the edges of their stools.

Harry tilted his head, “Actually I think it sounds fun. You just name the day and I’ll be there.”

Y/n smiled at him. She knew it was crazy. Having a grown man at her place for a slumber party. Typically adults didn’t have those kinds of sleepovers – it was usually with the intent of something far more salacious. But she’d show him a good time, she thought, raising her glass toward his, “Deal.”

.                 .                 .

Y/n had her sofa bed pulled out and piled high with extra blankets and pillows. She had all her favorite snacks plus she ordered cheeseburgers and fries for the guest of the night. It was silly. Truly she hadn’t had a real slumber party in ages, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of excitement that she’d be hanging out with Harry all night. It was possible that her small crush on him was making her feel all giddy but she’d push down that feeling until he gave her any extenuating signals.

Because the truth was that they were both single, young adults and this was such an unlikely scenario. No one would look at this and say Oh how cute of these two grown adults hanging out in bed together for a sleepover. So innocent! No, she knew better. While maybe nothing would actually happen it certainly wouldn’t look innocent.

And of course, she did pick out the perfect pijama set. Something a little more flattering on her body but not too hey I really need to get laid tonight. It was a happy compromise. Cotton shorts and a button-up, matching short-sleeved top. This was just supposed to be a slumber party after all.

Right?

Besides, the little paper invitation she gave him on Monday morning told him to arrive in his sleepwear so she had to look the part. And not to toot her own horn but she made a very cute invitation just for him tucked into a pink envelope with a separate little response card that had space at the bottom for him to mark yes or no if he could come. It was a yes. Obviously.

When Harry finally arrived he was wearing a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. And for some fucking bizarre reason he looked so much hotter than he did when he wore his well-fitted suits at work.

Because goddamn did his shirt somehow just hug his torso in all the right spots and it allowed her to take a good look at all tattoos on his arms that were normally hidden under brushed wool jackets or long-sleeved button-up shirts. She knew he had tattoos. She’d seen him roll up his sleeves a couple of times but she never wanted to be rude and stare for long.

And then the sweatpants, while loose in the legs, fit his waist and hips and…

“You okay?” Harry was still standing in the doorway with his backpack draped over his arm waiting to be invited in.

“Yeah, sorry. Not used to seeing you dressed down like this. Almost unrecognizable.”

Harry let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling as Y/n stepped aside to let him in, “Would you like to see my ID? Swear I’m the Harry Styles, the guy you invited over for chips, popcorn, and truth or dare. I’ve even got your invite somewhere in my bag…”

She breathed a laugh through her nose and watched him enter into her space, “Movies too. Oh, and I also ordered cheeseburgers. Remembered that you mentioned that.”

He seemed quite pleased with the burgers as she handed him the bag. She got those small ones, five to an order, “Thanks. Fries too, huh?” He reached into the bag and pulled out three crinkle-cut french fries then stuffed them into his mouth.

“So should we settle in and pick out a movie?” She gestured toward her couch.

Harry had seen the pull-out couch with heaps of pillows and blankets when he walked in. He knew that that would be where they’d be spending most of the evening. It was the glaring thing about the whole slumber party slash sleepover. That they’d be probably sleeping next to one another. As two young, healthy, attractive adults.

“Sure,” he nodded and waited for her to pick which side she was going to take before climbing in next to her, the thin mattress and metal frame giving way gently under his weight before he leaned back against a mountain of pillows, bag of burgers safe in his hands.

Y/n had a few video streaming services at the ready and they settled on a cheesy comedy from the late 90s before Y/n reached over to her coffee table and then lined up all the snacks between them.

They chatted a little, having both seen the movie already. Topics were anything from what their plans were for the rest of the weekend to what they’d eaten for lunch at work. And it was only a little awkward when they both reached into the bowl of M&M’s at the same time, fingers brushing together.

Harry moved his hand away, “Sorry. You go…”

Y/n grinned at him, scooping a handful of candy into her palm, and then sat up, adjusting her seating as she crossed her legs together, “Wanna do truth or dare? Pretend like we’re 15 again having a sleepover. Really get into the whole slumber party vibe, ya know?”

Harry dug out a few M&M’s and let out a chesty laugh, “If I’m 15 again we’re in big trouble.”

Y/n snorted a laugh, “Why? What do you mean?”

He shook his head, a wide grin on his face with deep set dimples carved into each cheek as he turned his head to look at her, “If this were happening when I was 15 I’d already be in the bathroom hyperventilating and probably trying to will away a boner after our hands touched in the M&M’s bowl.”

Y/n guffawed and threw her head back, nearly choking on her bite of chocolatey candies as Harry laughed with her. Honestly, it was the best icebreaker she could have asked for. Things had been kind of clunky between them up until that moment as they were still trying to navigate how to act around one another. And she knew he was teasing but the good belly laugh that she got from Harry’s story was exactly what they needed.

“Okay fine. We’ll just keep going about it as adults then. No fifteen-year-olds here tonight,” Y/n chuckled as she shoveled a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth.

Y/n kept her eyes on him as she chewed her mouthful, “So truth or dare?”

Harry cocked his head at her, “So the mood is right then? For truth or dare?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed, “The mood?”

“Yeah. You said it over drinks. Remember when you were telling me what the most important components are to a sleepover and you said you liked truth or dare if the mood was right.”

Nodding slowly, she thought back to what she’d said, “Yeah. I guess I did say that. And I mean… I think the mood’s right for a little truth or dare. Movie’s almost over and you just pretty much kicked us off with that truth.” A breathy laugh was pushed from her mouth.

She could tell Harry was mulling on another question as he bit the inside of his cheek, head tilting in agreement, “So that means it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

Biting her lip as she pondered, she pressed her back into the soft pillows behind her, “Truth.”

Harry shifted to his side, long legs stretching the length of the mattress as he propped his head up in his hand, a pillow under his arm, “Have you ever kissed a co-worker before?”

Scoffing Y/n moved to her side, mimicking Harry’s position on her side, “No,” she grinned. It was true. She’d never once done anything with any of her coworkers. Having Harry over at her house was the closest she’d ever gotten to doing anything like that. “Now you. Truth or dare?”

His green eyes slid over her features, “Truth.”

She laughed to herself, trying to think of something funny, “How many stuffed animals do you own?”

Licking his lips he nodded, “Think maybe two? Gifts from my niece… Truth or dare?”

“Mmm… dare,” she giggled.

Harry lifted a brow, “Ahhh… feeling bold yeah? Okay… hmm…” He pursed his lips to the side as he considered the dare. “Read to me the last text you sent to anyone. And you have to show me to prove it was the last one. And it can’t be any texts you and me, cause that’s not fair.”

Y/n blinked. She wasn’t exactly sure what her last text was besides Harry. But she was slightly worried because if it was what she was thinking… lifting up her message app she scrolled down to the text thread below Harry’s and it was a text with her sister. Which was what she had been worried about. She gulped, hoping that the things she said about her “coworker” who was coming to stay with her weren’t the last things she and her sister texted about.

Puffing out a breath she covered up all the previous texts to show Harry the last text from her sister – God knows you need it. Sending you good vibes, sis ;)

Harry squinted as he looked at the message and pointed, “That’s to you. The dare was to show me the last text you sent to someone. Let’s see it…”

Feeling her neck heat up she angled the phone away from him and read what she’d sent her sister. And there was no mention of Harry but if he were even halfway decent at picking up clues he might be able to figure out what was being discussed prior.

She shook her head and looked up at him. She couldn’t believe she was about to show him what was on her screen. But a dare was a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

lol I doubt anything will happen but I wouldn’t turn him down. Got condoms just in case 😜 send all your good vibes my way

Harry’s brows squished together as he looked at the text and back to Y/n and then down again at the words on her screen. She saw his throat bob and she knew the look on his face. He fucking knew what that was. He had to know.

She had to look away. She pulled the phone down and killed the screen. The awkwardness between them thick and uncomfortable as she peeked back at him. The edge of his mouth was pulled upward in a smirk, “That’s to your sister?”

Nodding she blew out an exasperated breath, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry grinned as he positioned his knee closer to Y/n, his eyes still on hers, “Dare.”

Swallowing her embarrassment down the best she could she decided to ask him the same, “Now show me the last text you sent anyone besides me.”

Harry’s smartass grin told her all she needed to know. That his last text probably wasn’t nearly as risqué as hers.

And it wasn’t. Not even close.

You can have two pounds for free. I’ve got so many growing I can’t keep up. As long as you come to pick them up on Monday they’re yours.

“I have a bunch of zucchini growing in my garden,” Harry pulled the phone away and laid it down next to his hip. “Got a neighbor who wants some.”

Of course, his last text to anyone was about zucchini. Jesus, she was so far out of her depth.

He was still wearing that shit-eating grin as he said, “Truth or dare, Y/n?”

And the way he said her name, all slow and sexy-like had her insides heating up. Well, maybe she made up the sexy part but he was definitely teasing her. She could just feel it.

“Truth.”

She was sure she’d regret that. Truth or dare. It didn’t matter. She was still reeling from showing him her texts.

“Was that text about me?” Shit-eating grin in place as he asked. Fucker.

Y/n’s eyes grew wide dropping her mouth open in surprise. Of course, he was going to ask that. Of course!

“Oh come on, Harry…” she pleaded.

He lifted his brows and awarded her a larger grin with those cute indents scoring into his cheeks, “Them’s the rules, baby. You chose truth and now you have to be honest.”

Clearing her throat she sat up to her bottom and leaned forward so she didn’t have to look at him as she put her head in her hands and laughed in disbelief, “Jesus. Seriously?”

“Yep. Spill. Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. It was about you.”

Keeping her eyes on her lap she waited for a smug remark. Some kind of teasing reply but it was quiet. Slowly she turned to look back at him and he was still lying on his side, head in his palm as he watched her, his eyes fixed to hers.

She shrugged, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry flattened his lips and squinted at her before cocking his head, “Hold on… Really? That was about me?”

Sighing she rolled her eyes, “Yes. Sorry. I was… it was just funny… it was me joking around with my sister is all.”

He blinked and looked down at the space between them as he nodded, “Okay. I see. So you didn’t actually mean it?”

“Well… I guess… We were joking. Obviously, nothing has to happen. I would never expect that. I…” she breathed out exasperated.

“Obviously nothing has to happen. Did you want it to happen?” His pupils were pinned to hers again.

Opening her mouth she stopped herself for a moment. She knew her answer was yes but she didn’t want to come off like a creep. She hadn’t expected it and assumed it wouldn’t. But the truth remained; she hoped it would happen.

Deflating her posture she laid back to her side to face Harry, tucking a pillow into her chest, “The truth is that I think you’re attractive and I haven’t been with anyone in kind of a long time and… she knows that, my sister. So we were just… it was lighthearted but yeah I mean… without any expectations, cause I would never… I hope you know that. But I did think it would be nice.”

“Nice. Yeah. I agree. It would be nice. And just so you know,” he swung his head to look over his shoulder before looking back at her, “I brought condoms as well. You know… just in case.”

She was a bit stunned at that. Was he…

“Dare me to kiss you,” he grinned, irises dropping to her lips for a second before looking back into her eyes.

She laughed, “That’s not how the game works. The rules are you can’t–”

“Fuck the rules. Dare me to kiss you.”

Shaking her head with a wide smile stretched across her face she felt like her skin was pricking as her heartbeat picked up. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Looking back into his eyes she inhaled deeply, “Fine. I dare you to kiss me.”

Harry’s smirk was unreal. The way he dragged his gaze over her face and down to her mouth was almost lewd, “Didn’t need to play truth or dare to get me to kiss you, Y/n,” he scooted in, grabbing the pillow she had tucked into her chest and tossing it away before he drew a hand up to her face, “You just needed to ask.”

She held her breath as he closed in slowly until it was as if all the tension in the room had popped and fizzled when his lips met hers.

He was so soft and gentle. Lips winding easily, carefully at first. And then she parted her lips more, kissing him back and letting her mouth press into his bottom lip before their tongues were meshed.

She moved her knee out to stabilize herself and knocked over the bowl of popcorn between them. Laughing into his mouth she gasped as she parted from him but he only reached for her again, placing his palm at the back of her head to pull her mouth back against his with a grunt from his chest as he pushed the bowl away and drove his arm underneath her side to keep her from getting too far.

Harry was softly moaning as his tongue worked its way into her mouth gently. It was clear he’d wanted to kiss her. That he liked it. And that notion made her head spin combined with the feel of his thumb traveling over her jaw. There was not going to be any stopping the momentum that had begun.

Well, except for when the bowl of M&M’s poured out against her leg. She had to push at him. As much as she would have loved to have kept making out, she would not have been able to enjoy melted chocolate on her legs or the bedsheets tucked around the mattress (think of the scrubbing she’d need to do!).

“Sorry,” she panted and looked down at the smashed pieces of popcorn and the chocolate candies strewn between them, “I’ve gotta pick this up. Our body heat will melt all these and it’s gonna be a big mess.”

Harry grinned, “Why don’t we just move this party to your bed for a little bit? Clean up later? The M&M’s won’t melt if we’re not laying on them.”

She laughed, already feeling overwhelmed and overheated from the kiss and now he was suggesting taking it to her bed? This was really happening, wasn’t it? She nodded and they both moved off the sofa sleeper to their feet, Harry following behind Y/n as she led him to her bedroom.

She already had her bedside lamp on. Bed made perfectly, everything tucked in and neat.

She turned to look at him and he stepped against her, palm splaying at her low back, “I dare you to get onto your bed and take your clothes off.”

A small laugh burst from her chest, “Oh, so now we’re just doing dares?”

He nodded, “Making up our own rules for this game. S’more fun this way.”

Letting go of her he watched as she stepped backward toward her bed and began to unbutton her nightshirt until it was shed from her body before she pushed her shorts down her legs. She was left in a pretty white bralette (something soft for bedtime) that stretched around her breasts and a pair of thin cotton panties that matched. She kneed up onto her bed and let her feet dangle off the edge and pointed, “Now I dare you to take off your clothes.”

He peeled his white t-shirt off, his hair mussing in the process. She watched with her lips parted at the gorgeous man stripping before her. Not only was he built exactly like what she dreamed of (tattoos, beefy, muscular, a touch soft, very masculine) but the boner tenting his sweats was hard not to home in on.

Harry stuck his fingers into the waistband and looked up at her, “M’not wearing any underwear, so be warned…”

She swallowed as the material lowered, belly button, happy trail, a bit of dark hair and then he pulled the stretchy waistband away from his body so his cock could push free and she was already clenching at just the sight as he removed his sweatpants, cock full and heavy between his strong thighs.

Jesus Christ.

Harry stepped forward, nudging himself between her knees and she leaned back to look up at him, “I dare you to take off the rest of this. Since I’m completely naked feels only fair.”

She bit her lip and looked down at his girthy dick. He was clearly not shy of his body, standing there like that, cock right in front of her. But why should he be shy when he looked like that?

Scooting back further into the bed she got up to her knees and pulled the bralette off first, feeling the heat of his gaze on her tits as she then slid her panties down her thighs. She wasn’t nearly as confident as Harry was as she quickly pulled at her top blanket and covered herself with a small laugh.

Harry stepped forward, one knee on the mattress before climbing in next to her, nosing at her cheek softly before his lips were connected to hers again. And she melted into him just like before. His mouth was magic or something because before she realized it, he’d pulled the blankets off her body and he had a big palm sliding up her thigh and over her hip, “Don’t cover up. So pretty. Knew you would be.”

She pushed her fingers into his thick wavey hair and felt her side hit the mattress as Harry pulled at her again, mouth still smeared against hers. He grabbed at her thigh, hitching it over his hip as he tucked in closer and it was warm and she could feel it. Feel him against her hip.

His giant hand smoothed against her bottom and up her spine until he was wrapping his long fingers around the back of her neck. Y/n nudged in closer, driving her hips forward until she was practically straddling him. So Harry took that as his cue to move to his back, taking her hips in his hands so she’d follow with him.

It had caught her off guard, the sudden change in position but her lips never stopped moving with his. Their kisses were wet and she could smell their saliva, and a touch of onion even from the burgers he’d eaten.

He guided her hips down, his thick cock hot under her thigh until she felt her pussy drag against warm skin at the base of his dick. A small gasp escaped her mouth as he pulled her up, letting her pussy glide up his length, “So wet already, Y/n…”

She was. It was embarrassing. Every inch of his shaft her pussy dragged against, coated him, wetted his skin. He kept pushing and pulling at her hips, using her slippery pussy like a soft wet toy he could run up and down his length.

Then she felt his fingers move around to her backside, digits sliding against her pussy as he licked into her mouth.

Gently she rolled against him and when she moved herself further down he pushed a fingertip inside, “Go on. Fuck yourself on my finger a little bit,” he whispered against her mouth.

He was filthy. She had no idea. He’d always been so sweet at work. So polite and respectful. But here he was reaching around her ass to get a finger inside of her cunt as she rubbed her pussy over his cock.

She panted into his mouth as she slid down around his finger, her clit smushed into his dick, slippery as she rolled up and down. But then he began to assist as he added another finger and began to fuck into her pussy, letting his digits curve into her the best he could from his angle. Slushy wet, she stopped moving her hips and parted from the kiss as she looked down at him. She could tell she was gushing all over his palm and probably his dick as she moaned.

“S’that feel good. You’re gettin’ my fingers all wet like it feels good.”

Nodding she gasped, “Yeah. Feels so good…”

Harry rutted up against her, his cock still pressed into her clit, and she panted, eyes still searing into his. She didn’t want to look away. She almost couldn’t believe he was in her bed fingering her like that.

“Your turn to dare me to do something. What do you want, Y/n?”

She moaned and closed her eyes. She was certain of what she wanted as she listened to the way his fingers gushed with each plunge into her.

“Fuck… dare you to… put on a condom.”

She popped her eyes open to peer down at him as he slid his fingers out of her, wiping her arousal on her ass, “They right here?” He moved his hand toward her bedside table, a knuckle tapping at the wood.

Climbing off of him she opened the drawer, “Yeah, a whole box. Hold on…”

Reaching over to pull out the condoms she felt Harry’s hands on her hips as he moved to sit up, then his lips were on her back, dotting warm kisses to her shoulder blades as she finally plucked a condom from the fresh box.

She watched him put the condom on and as expected, it didn’t cover his entire length. He was kind of a big guy. Well, maybe there was no kind of about it. Before today she had no idea he was packing like that. Though he always did come off as very confident and sure of himself.

She bit her lip as she watched him toss the wrapper away and then he kneed up to her, arm sliding to her back and carefully lowering her to the bed before spreading her legs apart as he fit himself there, sturdy thighs pushing against her soft ones.

“Gonna tell your sister her good vibes worked?” He smirked down at her, hands scouring her hips and tummy and then kneading softly at her tits.

Y/n laughed and reached a hand down to his knee before he pulled at her, making her thighs drape over his as he inched in closer.

“Hmm?” He was awfully teasing, she thought, grinning at her waiting for an answer.

“Probably,” she spit out in a laugh.  

Harry gripped at her thighs, lifting her a bit more to fit her bum over his bent knees and she wanted to scream in embarrassment when she realized he was inspecting her sodden vulva. She’d gotten herself all tidied up for him, should anything like this happen, so at least she had that going for her.

He smoothed his thumb through her pussylips, spreading them apart, and softly blew out a breath, “That is very pretty. Think we get him in there?”

She rolled her eyes as she watched him wrap his palm around his base and lay his fat cock over her mons, the condomed-tip reaching to her belly button, maybe further past, “Well, it’s made for it, so I’m pretty sure–”

“What… your pussy’s made to fit around my cock?” A cocky dimpled smirk gave way to a laugh.

“You know what I meant. It’s meant to… like…” she breathed out a laugh.

“Oh, I know… just fucking with you, Y/n.”

He gazed at her as he reared back, painting his cockhead through her labia, up and down, a soft bump into her clit before he repeated, spreading her soft lips apart as he watched the way his crown smeared her arousal between her creases.

When she moaned and wiggled her hips he pointed himself right at her little muscle, nudging softly forward, opening it up for himself. And she felt that first push, the way his tip fit into her, spreading apart and then stretching to accommodate his circumference.

“Oh god…” she breathed as he slipped in halfway and then pulled back.

“Almost there,” he panted as he kept his eyes on where they were connected, pushing and pulling back until she was swallowing him whole, his cock enveloped in her soft, warm pussy.

When he’d buried in whole, he moaned and watched her face twist up in ecstasy. Her lips were dropped open and her neck stretched long as she grasped onto the forearm of the hand he had gripping her waist.

Slowly he began to thrust, viscous liquid seeping from her pussy and sticking to his shaft. It was filthy. She was so wet that every time he bottomed out there was a splat and a plap sounding between them.

She let out a deep moan and her lips curled up, humid breath escaping her mouth as she felt him driving into her guts. He was taking it easy. Languidly fucking into her with wet claps every time he plunged in.

When her cunt was taking him easier and she was dripping down to her ass he moved in a little harder, faster. Angling himself over her, a palm down on the mattress so he could work into her with more gusto.

“Ah! Harry…” she squeaked at the stronger thrusts and clung onto his lats. He was panting, lips parted and pink, a curl falling over his forehead as he plowed into her splooshing pussy.

“Fuck you’re wet. Pussy is gushing, Y/n…”

Her brows pushed together as she gasped, her body knocked upward every time his hips met hers making her tits bounce. Harry didn’t know where to keep his focus. He loved watching his cock disappear into her hole but he kind of liked being right over her so he could see her face crinkle up every time he bottomed out and then her pretty breasts sway up and down. Or maybe he’d like to fuck her from behind, watch her ass jiggle as he pounded into her.

“Mmm… fuck that’s big!”

Harry groaned, “Yeah? Sure know how to sweet talk a man don’t you, pretty? S’hurt?”

She watched his face, a lusty grin, droopy eyelids as he continued muscling his way in deep.

She hissed when he bucked in, as if he was showing off just how deep he could push in and she coughed out, “Mmm… a little!”

Harry was going to lose his mind with her if she kept squeaking out moans and splatting around his cock like she was but he would be a gentleman and pull back a touch. Slowing down a little he sat up and moved his hand between them, smushing his thumb into her clit, which was so sticky wet even that swished and slid under the pad of his digit.

“Yessss…” she breathed out before murmuring on about how good it felt. “Oh fuck, that’s it. Oh god… please don’t stop… Harry, fuck, yes…”

The clit. The magical little nob that worked wonders as long as the man knew where to find it. Clearly, Harry knew right where it was. Knew how to circle over it, pressing against it just right. Knew how to fuck into her as well. Sliding his length through her vaginal walls, spreading her open, and grazing against her gummy little spot on the inside that had her buzzing and liquifying for him.

He watched her whine and squirm under him, loving how she was so into it. God that was an ego boost, “Like that, Y/n? Gonna come for me? Yeah?”

Her ears were already ringing when she lost herself, gripping around him and crying out as her orgasm washed through her tummy. Harry’s cock made her feel so full, so incredibly stuffed to the brim that it weighed her down and she could hardly move as he bulldozed into her, the pad of his thick thumb smushing fast circles over her throbbing nub.

Fucking her through it he gasped at how she spasmed and milked around him, her pussy trying to siphon his come right through his condom. But Harry wouldn’t come just yet. He had something to prove. Wanted to make a show of his prowess and give her something to tell her sister about.

So when she was finally calmed and her pussy wasn’t clamping around him like a vice grip he slid his hand under her head and kissed her gently, speaking low and soft against her lips, “Gonna have you flip over, okay? Just need a little more yeah?”

When he parted from the kiss she blinked up at him, fluttering lashes and out of breath, “You didn’t come?”

He shook his head, pulling himself out, gently before he placed his hands on her hips, “Not yet. I will soon, though. M’right on the edge. Won’t take me long.”

She rolled to her side as he lifted her hips and helped her get to her tummy. She felt his hands on her ass, squeezing and rubbing each meaty globe in his big palms. Then he was straddling her thighs as he spread her gently and she felt him push his thick tip back into her pussy, sharp and hot. It was tighter, felt a lot fuller like that as he began driving in deep and then pulling out to his tip, before plowing back into the hilt.

His moans grew louder and, even he could admit, sounded quite whiny, pathetic. He was shaking as he watched his dick spread her in half, her soft ass jiggling as he smacked into her, skin patting, his cock leaking precum steadily into his condom.

He hissed when it felt too good. His balls squeezing and his fat dick throbbing inside of her. He thrusted forward, landing a palm down next to her shoulder, his chest pressed into her back as he rutted himself in, tucking his cock through her insides and puffed out a hot groan into her ear, “Fuck you feel good. Gonna make me come, baby…”

She moaned and nodded, “Come for me, Harry…”

He might have held out for another thirty seconds, possibly a minute longer but her breathy words, all sultry and pleading had him pumping into his condom in an instant. He gargled on a moan and squeezed his eyes closed as he buried in and stilled his hips, ass flexing so he could push in further if it were possible.

Y/n felt him crushing her back as he collapsed over her, panted breaths in her ear, cock still throbbing in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She didn’t mind it. Liked his weight on her like that. Enjoyed the way he seemed just as fucked out as she was. She could even feel his heart pounding in his chest against her back.

With a moan, she turned her head and nuzzled her face into her blanket with her eyes closed. She’d fall asleep that way if he couldn’t get up. It was quite warm and comforting. Like a weighted blanket draped over her body. And maybe she did doze off for a bit because when she opened her eyes she felt him moving off of her before he crashed down next to her, the springs in her mattress bouncing under him.

Pushing herself to lie on her side she ran a hand over his chest and he turned to look at her, a dopey smile on his flushed face, “So this is what happens at slumber parties, huh? I’ve really missed out all these years.”

She giggled and nodded into her pillow, “Yep. They’re just like big orgies really. Normally there are more than just two people. It’s how I lost my virginity.”

Harry sputtered a laugh, “Really?”

Y/n couldn’t help but to cackle loudly and roll to her back, the biggest grin on her face, “No, silly. I was teasing.”

He slid a hand over her tummy, “So this isn’t what happens at slumber parties, then?” She could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

She turned her head to look at him, “Well, not usually. But I think we made our own rules for this one today.”

“Yeah? Well, I have to give it to you. You throw a hell of a party. I’m certain this is gonna go down as the best sleepover in history.”

. . .

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[bradshawssugarbaby]

Neon Moon - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: You're drowning your sorrows after calling off your engagement on Valentine's Day in a Mexican restaurant in San Diego. Alongside you, Bradley Bradshaw sits at the bar, going through a similar situation.

A/N: my first attempt at writing something a little angsty, I’m not overly confident in it but I was drunk on strawberry margaritas in San Diego last night after spending the day in Coronado so here we are. Also definitely inspired by my own past relationship 🌚 And inspired by Neon Moon by Brooks and Dunn. Also sorry for the whacky spacing because I’m posting from my phone! - not beta read or proofread bc I live life in the danger zone.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader

warnings/content: cheating (not Bradley or reader), failed engagements/breakups, mentions of divorce, drinking, angsty-ish with a happier ending.

word count: 3.5K

read the rest of my What’s Your Country Song mixtape series! 🩷

if you lose your one and only, there’s always room here for the lonely, so watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

You sat at the bar, sighing heavily as you snacked on the free, fresh tortilla chips and salsa, nursing your pink margarita, the notes of strawberry and tequila doing everything in its power to alleviate the pain of your latest breakup. You know alcohol isn’t a miracle worker, but by God, at this point you’re beginning to wonder. Your ex-fiancé just called off your wedding, and left you wondering why on earth you ever agreed to move thousands of miles from home to San Diego for a man who barely had his shit together.

You fiddled with the straw in your glass, sipping the strawberry-laden drink back, the tequila burning your throat slightly as it went down. It was getting late in the evening, but you were willing to stay here a couple more hours until closing just to get the most amount of time away from your apartment as you could. You knew you’d have to face the inevitable, but you dreaded it. How could you not? How could anyone in their right mind choose to haul their ass back to the apartment their ex just called off their wedding ceremony in, where the person they’d loved just confessed they didn’t share that feeling that was supposedly mutual, that they’d grown weary of the marriage ideal that they’d proposed to you.

Your bartender shot you a sympathetic look when you walked in that night, sensing that you weren’t here celebrating Valentine’s Day like most of the patrons around you. He slid you a basket of fresh, warm, homemade tortilla chips and a cup of the restaurant’s in-house salsa, alongside a drink menu with an encouraging nod. You appreciated the kindness towards you, even if it was just out of pity. As the bar side became less busy as the night went on, he asked how you were doing, if you needed anything else, if you wanted to order a meal. You hemmed and hawed over whether or not authentic Mexicali food was the solution to all of your problems when the seat to your right suddenly gained a patron - a single patron who looked just as downtrodden, if not more so, than you.

“Bradley!” The bartender said cheerfully, a hearty smile on the man’s face as he grabbed a pint glass, “Your usual, my friend?”

“Please, and just keep ‘em comin’, man,” said the voice beside you.

Bradley was a tall man, with a neatly trimmed mass of warm, golden-brown waves on top of his head, sun kissed skin and a pair of aviator sunglasses resting on the collar of his white t-shirt. Over the white undershirt, sat the loudest printed Hawaiian shirt you’d ever laid your eyes on - a bubblegum pink coloured background with an assortment of bright white, black and deep orangey-red palm leaves adorning it. A few faded scars scattered the side of his face, barely noticeable unless he tilted his head just so in the warm yellow-hued lights overhead. His fuller lips were resting in an emotionless line, a trimmed and styled mustache, straight out of an 80’s movie resting over the top of his lip.

As Bradley and the bartender, whose name you’d now forgotten after your second margarita, not that it was ever going to stick in your mind in the first place - you were stressing over how to tell 150 guests that a wedding was no longer taking place simply because the man who asked you had decided he no longer loved you, and despite having felt that way for quite some time, opted to tell you three months before your big day, after a majority of things were paid for, almost all of which non-refundable, meaning you’d be enjoying a wedding cake for 150 people at a venue by yourself, celebrating some other occasion in a couple of months.

You couldn’t help but overhear the bartender give Bradley the same words of encouragement as he’d given you - reminding you both that “que sera sera, whatever will be will be”, a direct quote from an old Doris Day song that you recognized from the times your grandmother made you watch her collection of Alfred Hitchcock VHS tapes, along with all the other classic movies you were subjected to. Bradley offered a weak smile, nodding his head along to the advice.

“I don’t know, man, she definitely isn’t coming back. I don’t think I want her to either. Came home from three months away to get told she was off base and in Coronado for the day, I decided to surprise her and find her having a lunch date with some lower-ranking officer.”

“That’s harsh, brother,” the bartender nods sympathetically before his brown eyes light up, as if Bradley’s cheating significant other has inspired him in some way.

“Actually, my friend, the lovely senorita on your left side has something in common with you,” he explained as he shot you a grin before nodding his head, “My friend Bradley here was married. You both are nursing the same pain tonight. Might not be a bad idea for you two to nurse that pain together, especially since we close in an hour.”

Bradley’s face flushed to a pinkish hue as he shot his friend a glare before turning to you with an apologetic, half-hearted smile.

“No offense, I’m sure you’re great, I just…caught my wife out with another officer over the bridge at Coronado and I really don’t know if drinking with another girl is the right thing to do.”

“Understood, my fiancé just called off our wedding because he decided three months before was a good time to tell me he’d fallen out of love with me nine months ago and no longer wanted to go through with it.”

“Ah, maybe Angel over here is on to something then,” Bradley let out a melancholic chuckle as he took a sip of his beer, the amber coloured liquid sliding past his lips, the froth at the top brushing against the edge of his mustache.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” you nodded, suddenly thankful as you realized if your ex hadn’t broken things off now, you could have easily wound up in the same position as Bradley is now in a few years.

“It’s alright, had a feelin’ she wasn’t really loving the military spouse life as much as she let on, but didn’t think that meant she’d find a different serviceman to try it on with while I was gone and stationed in the middle of the Pacific.”

“Jesus, that’s rough, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, not your fault. I’m Bradley, by the way. Normally I’d do the whole formal military introduction but…just Bradley is fine tonight. I kinda need a break from that for a minute.”

“Understood.”

You nodded again before giving him your name. An awkward silence fell over you both before you looked out towards the patio, the lights along the pier illuminating the San Diego Bay as you looked across to Coronado.

“That’s where I’m stationed,” Bradley nodded his head towards the island across the bay as he took another sip of his beer, “North Island.”

“You’re an aviator?”

“TOPGUN graduated, been flyin’ for just over 20 years now.”

“20 years?”

“Yeah,” Bradley blushed, nodding his head, “I’m 40 in June. I get told I look about 10 years younger than that. A lot. Especially by other guys over there. The one guy in my detachment’s about 5 years younger than me and everyone says he looks closer to my age than I do. Not as a dig to Hangman or nothin’, just as an observation that I kinda look fresh to the Navy, you know?”

“Hangman…?” You raised your eyebrow quizzically at the name he just called his friend, almost concerned about his parents' life choices.

“Real name’s Jake. Everyone calls us using callsigns over there - his is Hangman, but if we wanna piss him off, he’s Bagman. I’m Rooster. One guy’s just Bob, one girl’s Phoenix, another girl’s Halo, then there’s Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, Harvard and Yale, Fritz, my dad’s Navy buddy is Maverick, our Air Boss is Cyclone, it goes on.”

“Why is your callsign Rooster?”

“Eh, my dad’s sign was Goose. They asked me to pick one and I wanted to honor him, but I couldn't use the same one I figured, so I went for the first bird I could think of. They were gonna call me Boomer because I’m loud as fuck half the time, but I guess I have a bit of a reputation for waiting until the moment’s right to take action. One guy said that I sorta sit perched like a rooster waiting for the sun to rise, and it stuck more than Boomer did.”

“Gotcha. Are you from San Diego?”

“Sorta. I was born here, my dad was stationed up at Miramar which is on the other side from Coronado, but then he died when I was two in a training accident, my mom moved me back to where she was from in Virginia, it’s where she met my dad, actually. He was from Virginia but like, closer to the D.C. area, my mom was from Richmond. Then I grew up there, went to UVA, and got stationed at Virginia Beach, went to TOPGUN in Nevada and then got sent back to Virginia, then from there got called to North Island.”

“So you’ve lived in a few states then. I moved out here from New York a couple years ago. My ex is from La Jolla, came to New York for university, met me, got a job in the city, then got an offer to work here, and came back, took me with him.”

“So your family’s all back in New York?”

“Yeah, bit far, like a 6 hour flight home.”

“Jesus, I may not have much for family, but at least I know I’ve got my squad to kinda support me. And I’ve got Maverick, who’s like a second dad to me.”

“I’m still debating what to do - do I stay in San Diego and just make this my home now, or do I go back to Manhattan with my tail between my legs so to speak and move back in with my parents?”

Bradley nodded his head solemnly before letting out a sharp exhale, a smile forming on his face as he looked out at the bay and then back at you.

“Whatdya say we go for a walk? Catch some fresh air? Maybe we can help each other figure out our next moves so poor Angel here can close up for the night.”

Bradley must have sensed some apprehension in your gaze, because almost seconds after speaking, he held his hands up innocently and laughed.

“I promise I’m not suggesting this out of an ulterior motive. Just suggesting it as a guy who’s sorta in the same boat as you and could use some company.”

You looked at your watch and shrugged your shoulders. You certainly didn’t want to head home any time soon, and Bradley seemed genuine enough, plus, it was nice having someone who understood what you were going through, even if it meant both of you now had to completely reevaluate your lives. You set your credit card down on the table for Angel to ring up your bill, but before he could take it, Bradley shook his head and handed it back to you.

“It’s on me.”

“I can’t let you pay for my drinks, but thank you.”

“Listen, it was money that was gonna be spent on my wife for a Valentine’s Day dinner anyway. Least I can do is pay for your two…pink…whatever those are.”

“Strawberry margaritas.”

“Right, yeah, those. Pink tequila with fruit.”

He smirked as he closed out the tab for both of you before hopping off his barstool. He politely offered his arm out to you as you stood to your feet. Angel shot you both a knowing grin, waving you and his friend off as you headed out. The air on the pier was mild, a soft breeze blowing in off the water of the bay. As you headed down the street together, chatting about life and what you did for a living, Bradley’s rank in the Navy, his favorite sports, your favorite movies, you almost forgot about your ex and the breakup you’d been trying to numb with fruity heartache medication moments ago.

As it turned out, you and Bradley shared a fond love of baseball and romantic comedies, you’d both grown up watching classic movies with your grandmothers, both had a fondness for old music - Elvis, The Beach Boys, Jerry Lee Lewis, Neil Sedaka - it turned out that for two strangers with a 12 year age gap, you had much more in common than you could have expected. In fact, you’d actually argue that you and Bradley had more shared interests than you and your ex had.

As you both wandered up the street towards Seaport Village, the bayside shopping district set up alongside one of the piers, you basked in the glow of the streetlights over head, taking the time to appreciate the calmness of the bay, the sights and sounds of the water as it took your focus off the happy, lovestruck couples that walked around past you all.

The moon hung low in the sky overhead, glowing against the deep blackish-blue backdrop of the night sky, appearing to have a neon glow behind it. Bradley looked up at the sky, letting out a loud, exhaled breath as he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna head back to base and deal with the mess waiting for me there. Never thought I’d be filing divorce papers on Valentine’s Day, you know?”

“I have to call 150 guests and tell them that the wedding scheduled for May isn’t taking place but they can still come eat the cake that we paid for at the venue that I can’t get the 50% deposit back for.”

Bradley laughed softly, although the laugh wasn’t one of happiness - more one of pity for the two of you over your situations, and how neither of you wanted to go home because it would mean taking action with the hands you were dealt, no matter how unfair they were.

“Fuck, how’d we end up in this mess? I guess I should be thankful that she and I never had kids then, right?”

He laughed again, a dry, hollow laugh at his situation. “I wanted them, she didn’t. I just figured in my late thirties that it wasn’t really an issue worth pushing and it was probably best if I didn’t.”

“My dad was 44 when I was born, I never thought it was weird, if that helps.”

“Hey, means I’ve got 4 years, right? Can’t really adopt a kid when you’re in the Navy though, with not being home a lot and all that, and I don’t know if I see myself remarrying or anything. Besides, I feel like it’s asking a lot of a woman to settle down with me then have her waiting at home alone most of the time, or alone with our kids, if we have ‘em. Seems a bit unfair. I guess I could retire but, I don’t know if I’m ready for that either, you know?”

“You just have to find someone who wants to wait for you. You know, someone who doesn’t mind being a military spouse.”

“Good luck with that,” He said with a dry chuckle again, “I wouldn’t wanna be one if the shoe was on the other foot, it’s a lot of me to ask someone else to do it.”

“Well, I’m not suggesting you ask a random girl on the street to marry you, Bradley, I meant like, date, get to know the woman, find out from there if she’s cool with it.”

“I guess so,” He sighed heavily as he looked up at the moon, “You know, always thought I’d have a marriage like my parents did. I know my dad died before I was really old enough to remember, but I see pictures and you just…you knew they were crazy about each other. Maverick always said they flirted like they were a couple’a teenagers on their first date all the time.”

“Bradley, do you wanna come grab a coffee with me?”

“Coffee? It’s like nine at night.”

“Yeah, I could use some sobering up though.”

“Ah, what the hell. I don’t have to be anywhere.”

Bradley gestured in front of him, allowing you to lead the way. As you began to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your shoulder to guide you to the inside.

“Sorry, force of habit. My mom always said not to let a lady walk on the outside of the sidewalk. She said my dad never let her risk getting splashed by a puddle when they walked down the street. Sorta trained it into me by the time I was 10. Maverick and my grandma both agreed. Think it’s an old Southern thing.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind it,” you smiled softly at him, rolling your shoulders into a subtle shrug.

Bradley smiled at you, a genuine, proper smile. His previously stoic and reserved look had melted away momentarily, deep dimples forming either side of his mouth. Bradley’s caramel coloured eyes seemed to glisten as the moonlight caught them, amber flecks sparkling before he shook his head, an awkward chuckle escaping his parted lips.

“You know, I gotta thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You helped me forget temporarily about what I have to do tonight when I get home.”

“I guess I should thank you for the same thing.”

“I haven’t felt this at ease in…a really long time. I guess I always kinda suspected she was cheating, but I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, no one wants to think that way about someone they love, right?”

“No, no, I get it. I sorta knew my ex wasn’t feeling the same way. I just told myself I was overthinking it. He never said anything until today.”

“He told you today that he didn’t love you anymore? Today of all the days?!”

“Yeah, came home from a half day at work to spend the afternoon with him, just to come home to him doing the classic “We need to talk” line.”

Bradley hummed slowly and shook his head. He ran a finger through his caramel toned waves and sighed, trying to think of what the right thing to say in response would be.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Bradley silently opens the door to the coffee shop for you, once again gesturing for you to go first. You can’t help but admire the way everything he does seems like something out of a movie set in the 1950s - his mannerisms, the slight lilt to his voice, the way he holds doors open, offers you his arm, insists on walking on the outside of the sidewalk - all for a woman he’s only just met. It’s likely sympathetic actions towards you - feeling bad that you’re in a situation similar to his own, at least, that’s what you’re going to tell yourself.

“Pick your poison, I owe you one for the margaritas.”

“Nah, I’ll pick up this one. Like I said, it was set aside for a nice romantic Valentine’s dinner. I got it.”

“You know, under any other circumstances, this would have made for a cute date spot.”

“Margaritas and coffee?”

“I meant a nighttime stroll along the pier to a coffee shop, but now that you mention it, margaritas and coffee are one way to do it.”

“Hey, I mean, maybe this isn’t a date, I don’t think either of us are ready for that, but, it’s a nice first time hanging out.”

“Maybe the next time we hangout we can do it under less…distressing circumstances?”

“Maybe next time we hangout I can take you out for that nice dinner you and I both were expecting to have tonight,” Bradley shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “You know, as friends, or whatever.”

“You know what, I may take you up on that. You know, as friends…or whatever.”

Bradley slid his phone across the table to you, having opened it to the new contact screen. You quickly typed in your contact details, smiling fondly as you handed it back to him, along with your own phone.

“Next time you venture across the bridge, maybe text me? We can go for a coffee or something, or catch a ball game when the season starts.”

“I’d like that,” Bradley said with a satisfied smile as he sipped his drink.

“But this time, I’m buying.”

[helyiios]

icarus rising

(benji dunn/ethan hunt)

tw: suicidal ideation, talks of depression. if you struggle with any of those, please talk to a loved one or a health professional. you’re not alone.

Benji’s quiet, these days. Ethan would know, because he doesn’t dare stop at this desk all that often anymore. His friend’s focused on work, drowns in it, in his own little world.

It worries him. In a way. He wishes he would smile more. He would smile again. He misses the Benji from so many years ago, the freshly appointed field tech, the one who would flash him grins, teeth bared, his singular canine standing out, sharper than the left one.

Instead, this Benji is wistful. It’s what Ethan tells himself, to stop himself from using another word. Worn out. Depressed. Suicidal.

He recognises the pattern. Sees how empty his friend’s eyes are. How his hands seem rougher, how he’s heard about how he was often at the fighting ring. It was unusual, was it not ? For someone as soft as Benji to be amongst the sweaty crowds, throwing punches left and right. Hook, uppercut, swing—a nose is broken. It makes him sick, because he realises that maybe, just maybe, Benji had never been that sweet. Maybe it had been a facade to fool others. Maybe he’d always been so cold. Detached.

Benji’s not eating lunch anymore. They don’t see him leave his office at the break, but they never see him bring any food from home either. He’s lost weight, too. His face is sunken, and he looks visibly thinner. The muscles on his arms and back are more noticeable, and so are the scars on his wrists.

He’d stopped covering them with gauze the day Ethan confronted him about Kashmir. When he’d learnt about the hanging. It had been a slap in the face, and he wishes Benji would’ve just punched him. It would’ve been better than the furious look he’d gotten instead.

Or something.

He’s not in therapy, too. He knows this, because Benji told Jane about it. Said he didn’t have the time. Even with the IMF psychiatrists ? she’d asked. He’d just scoffed, apparently.

Ethan counted the scars on his wrists, actually. He had when he and Benji had gone on a mission together and his friend had fallen asleep in a teeshirt. He’d counted all of them, and now his stomach turns everytime he spots a new one. Fresher. Deeper.

He misses how warm Benji had once been. The field took the light out of him, and he hates himself for it. Hates himself for calling him in Shanghai. For Vienna. For having put him through all the hardships, over the years. Benji did not deserve any of the pain he’d gone through. The bomb. The rope. The torture.

He feels sick. Sick with guilt.

Benji should be laughing with other technicians, maybe have a partner to go home to, have dinner, watch TV. Share a pint.

Not this. Not the countless hours in front of a screen. Not the hideouts in shitty safehouses. Not the quick patching up after missions. The agony of on-the-spot stitches. The silence. The hurt.

The guilt.

The guilt.

The guilt.

Ethan moves at once, knocking on his friend’s office door. Despite their rooms being a few metres apart, he’d felt them drifting away from one another ever since Kashmir. Breaks his heart. His throat is tight, and he waits.

Seconds pass before the door unlocks.

Benji’s standing behind it, the first buttons of his shirt undone, his hair slicked back, except for a few strands. His eyes don’t exactly meet Ethan’s. They’re painted purple, a testament of the sleepless nights.

They stare at each other for a while. He wonders why he’s so afraid to speak. It was just Benji.

His best, most cherished, dearest friend.

It felt so foreign, now.

“Hey,” Benji finally, finally says. His tone is dry, like he doesn’t exactly have time for this. “Do you need anything ?”

Ethan’s voice’s missing. He just gapes.

“I don’t have all day…”

“We need to speak,” he ends up choking out, voice strained. “You and I.”

Benji recoils, but doesn’t add anything. He steps aside, letting him inside the room. He closes the door.

“What is it ?” he calmly asks, “is this about a mission ?”

“It’s about you.”

A pause.

“I don’t follow.”

“It feels like you’re…drifting away,” Ethan mutters, anxiously playing with his fingers. “From the team. From me.”

No answer.

“I miss you.”

“You see me everyday.”

“I miss your sarcastic remarks,” he bravely continues, “I miss how you’d protest against my stupid plans, and how you’d always have something kind of rude to say to me. I miss your smile, I miss…I miss the blue and gold of your eyes. Your laughter. I miss it. You. I miss…you.”

“I don’t understand, Ethan,” Benji softly replies, “I’m still me. I just…grew out my hair, I guess.”

“I miss us,” Ethan whispers, “it’s not been the same, those past months. You hide yourself in your office, you work until well after we all leave, you don’t come for bar nights, you don’t—you barely eat, I just—I’m worried about you.”

His friend’s face crumbles, and he averts his eyes.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not. You’re not ! And I’m afraid—I’m afraid you’re going to do something desperate and Benji, I can’t—I can’t stand being so scared for you. Everyday I come in and worry you won’t be here anymore. Please,” Ethan begs, “it’s just me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Benji…”

“You’re right,” Benji admits, “I’m trying to bury myself under work. It keeps me busy. I don’t sleep…a lot, and yeah, I forget to eat but I just—“ he swallows, blinking rapidly, “I…I’m just tired. I’m tired, Ethan.”

There’s a silence, where the words try and form themselves into sentences into his friend’s head. Trying to make sense of it all.

“Tired of the IMF ?” he asks gently, almost shy. “Of…of us…?”

“What ? No—yes—I—“ Benji shakes his head, going to sit on his chair again, face in his hands, “I don’t know. It feels like I’m drowning and I can’t…I can’t seem to stay afloat. It’s scaring me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me…?”

“Because you have other things to deal with, Ethan. My issues aren’t that important in the grand scheme of it all.”

“You’re more important than any nuclear weapon in any dictatorship,” Ethan then says, like it was the most obvious thing on the entire planet. “I’ll skip missions if it means I can stay with you.”

Benji scoffs, halfway between disbelieving and frankly haughty.

“Don’t stay things like that,” he breathlessly laughs, “I’m not a child who needs a nanny.”

“You’re a man who needs a friend,” the other one retorts. “Do you eat proper meals at home ?”

“Go ahead and say I look like shit.”

“You don’t look like you’re okay, Benji.”

“What do you know about that ?” Benji snaps, and the look of devastation on his friend’s face immediately makes him want to take it back. “I—no, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s because I know,” Ethan says, still, quietly walking up to him, “that I’m worried. That I recognise the signs.”

“I’m not mentally ill,” he blurts out, eyes bright and shiny with unshed tears, “I don’t need help.”

“But you do,” the other man whispers, cupping his face ever so carefully, worried he might just break from his touch. “And it’s okay. I want to help. We all do.”

“I’m not okay,” Benji finally breaks, letting the sob escape from his lips, face glued to Ethan’s shoulder, hands shaking so hard he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not fucking okay, it’s so scary, E. I’m scared.”

“I’ve got you,” Ethan whispers, holding him so tight he could just crush him, nose buried in the silky blonde hair, “I’m here. I’m going to stay.”

“Don’t let go of me,” he cries, grasping the other’s back desperately, “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.”

“I won’t let that happen, Benj, I’m not giving up on you. I’ll never leave you. I’m with you, okay ? Rely on me.”

“I’m so scared—“

“I’ve got you. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

“I need you,” Benji sobs, undignified and loud, “I need you so much. I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you, but I was so scared, and alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Ethan reassures him, “I’m here. So are Luther, Will, Jane and Ilsa. We’re all here for you. Yeah ? I promise it’ll be okay.”

“I want to die,” he admits, and that breaks Ethan’s heart. “But I was too scared to do it. So I’d just cut, or stop eating, and sleeping. It’d be a way to punish myself. Like I deserved it.”

“You don’t deserve any of it,” the other man chokes out, “you never did. You deserve—you deserve to be loved. You deserve warmth.”

Benji slightly pulls away, the retina of his eyes turning a light shade of pink, holding Ethan’s face in his own.

His eyes search for his, hesitant. Like he doesn’t quite dare.

Ethan is the one to close the gap between them, soft lips gently landing on rougher, chapped ones.

It doesn’t matter. They’re here, now. It’s all that matters.

He pulls away merely a few seconds later, daring to send Benji the smallest of smiles. The other man mimics him.

“You have a pretty smile,” Ethan whispers. “I missed it.”

“I missed you. I’m sorry for hiding, and…the dishonesty. For worrying you.”

“No more hiding, yeah ?”

Benji nods, resting his forehead on the other man’s.

“Promise.”

He knows he will not heal from a kiss. But he realises, upon waking up the next day, Ethan’s arm slung around his waist and his nose against his neck, that he feels like he can breathe again. That he wants to breathe again.

Maybe, he thinks, things would turn out okay.

Maybe, he will be okay.

[justallihere]

I support women's rights, but I especially support women's wrongs, a.k.a Violet Sorrengail's Dunne given right to midly threaten her brother, her husband, her bestie, the Assembly, and Mr Garrick Tavis (who is, let's be honest, more scared of his pint-size Queen than any other individual or creature in the continent).

Also, I can't wait for Andarna to instigate Violet's chaos when poor Tairn is only trying to avoid a war.

And, yes, they cuddled, we loved it, but girl, I CANNOT WAIT for angry Violet who figured out the truth all on her own and now has bargaining material over literally anything, from 'oh, so you think you know how to handle my mother? Remember that time when you all thought I wouldn't figure out that demons from hell were real?'; to 'oh, so you think won't figure out what you got me for Solstice, not the first time you are wrong about what I can and cannot figure out, mate'.

Violet is so mad right now in the scene I’m writing and she’s not even yelling at anyone from Tyrrendor yet so it’ll be interesting to see how that writes out when I get to that part of the chapter 😂

Violet is never going to let Xaden forget this one. “Remember that time you lied to me about my brother’s death and also didn’t clue me in on the fact that you expected me to fight a war against what I thought were mythical creatures with you? Remember that? I do. You can absolutely go get me cake in the middle of the night”

[69bitterbeingz]

IF YOU'RE GONNA BE DUMB || CH. 9

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DISCLAIMER: This is a reupload from my prev account! best to follow the fic through ao3 [linked below] to avoid any future issues PAIRINGS - johnny knoxville, bam margera, steve-o, chris pontius, ryan dunn x female reader WARNINGS - swearing, drinking, injury

ao3 version

The moon floated in the cloudy night sky like a coin in inky black water, stars barely peeking through the haze like drops of milk. Big Ben’s spire pierced through the veil, and when the camera panned down, a man– no, creature , howled in the lonely streets, his hands raised towards the stars. 

“This has got to be the dumbest one yet.”

“Dumber than getting thrown around like a football?” Johnny replied, laughing incredulously at your remark; you shook your head.

“No no , that’s a totally different breed of dumb. This is just…” You trailed off, then gestured at Chris, gleefully sprinting down the road in a hoodie and wolf mask. “Look at him.”

“C’mon, don’t be a fuckin’ killjoy.” Steve-O teased, nudging your ribs a little harder than you expected and making you jolt. With a jab back at his ribs, you smiled.

“I can call it stupid and still enjoy it.”

It was hardly even a stunt, simply an excuse to run around like a knob and weird people out, and all of you followed along like giggling kids. Some shots were a bit of a hassle - should’ve known that popping out at people on a late night tube would tempt some wanker to take a swing at Chris, but you all managed to escape just as the carriage doors opened, so no harm no foul. Besides, you bet these guys have been in worse scraps. To be honest, out of all the stunts the lot of you had filmed over your time in England, this was by far your favourite. No cringeworthy accidents, nothing totally disgusting or grim, just running around like headless chickens while Chris howled for all he was worth. It was just lighthearted fun, and a great way to close out your shoot. Even you got involved, although… not knowingly . You were distracted settling a debate with Steve-O [“you can smoke damn near anything, trust me, i have” “yeah but smoking incense like a cigarette can not be good for you”] when his expression suddenly changed from neutral to a shitty smirk. Before you had time to question what the hell he was so smiley about, you were literally swept off your feet. You screamed, as whoever had you in the bridal carry howled like a mad man; at least it was obvious who it was long before he had reached the park, giggling in a very un- wolflike way.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You asked, a little breathless as you clung to the front of his hoodie - you really wished he wasn’t wearing that shitty wolf mask, the low light of the street lamps made it look genuinely freaky. 

Chris chuckled, putting on a darker tone this time. “ You’re fresh meat.” Though the ‘intimidating’ voice didn’t last long, as he broke back into a dopey giggle. When he finally ran back to the crew and put you down, you promised yourself to watch your back more vigilantly in the future. With that little escapade, everyone decided you had enough footage of Chris jumpscaring poor passers-by, the executive decision was made for celebration drinks in a bar near Tower Bridge. Tremaine was nice enough to get the first couple rounds for everyone, toasting the crew for their hard work on the past few months of shooting; he then turned to Johnny, Chris and Steve-O to make a special mention: “takes balls to do the dumb shit you guys put yourselves through.”

“Hear hear!”

Down the hatch, let the good times roll. Sure, you drank every night here, but this really did feel special, a joy and undeniable relief that everyone felt with the end of filming. The only thing was that you wish truly everyone was here to celebrate it too - despite not knowing Dave and Ehren that well, they deserved to be here much more than you believed you did. Not to mention Bam and Ryan… you stared into the bubbling liquid in your pint glass as the thought arose. Shit, you really missed them. You haven’t even been gone that long and you missed them. It was great being here with Johnny, Chris and Steve-O, but you couldn’t shake that feeling of an important piece of the puzzle being missing. You raised your glass to your lips and wondered what they were doing right now…?

You should ring Bam...

“Hey, what you staring into space for?” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the tipsy Chris now sitting next to you. Wait, where did everyone else go? Your head darted around, noting how the group had splintered off into different parts of the bar - you must’ve been so wrapped in drinking and thinking that you hadn’t noticed them all go. 

“Huh… don’t know. How long was I out for?”

“Oh, dunno really, I was caught up with some guy. Anyway, you looked like you were thinkin’ too hard so I came over to get us some drinks. Wanna do shots?”

You quirked an embarrassed smile, letting your preoccupations slip out of your head. “Sure, get whatever you want, I’ll pay.”

“Oho! Well if you insist~ ” He giggled coyly, twirling his shoulder-length hair around his finger before turning to the bartender with his order. As he chatted, you lingered on the outline of his profile, the way his nose curved into his lips and other poetic nonsense. You never noticed how cute his nose actually was, it complimented his face nicely. Not that his face really needed complimenting, it was pretty damn great already. Then there was his pretty hair, slightly curly and hanging a little ways past his ears - it was long enough to run your fingers through and catch the knots. It suited him well.

Oh no, the booze was getting you all sappy .

You squinted at your beer for a second, as if to scold it, then quickly decided you didn’t give a shit

“You gonna grow it out?”

“Huh?” Chris asked, tilting his head to the side slightly like a confused puppy as he pushed your shot in front of you. You motioned to his head.

“Your hair, I mean it’s already kinda grown out but, like, gonna grow it out s’more? Get real hippy dippy?”

“Oh… yeah, I was thinking about it.” He seemed caught off guard, shifting on his stool. A little hazy eyed, you nodded, face unreadable.

“...Your hair’s nice, soft. I hope you grow it out. Hippy dippy looks good on you.”

For a moment he just blinked at you, but a grin soon split his cheeks, and if you looked a little closer [or were a little less drunk] you would’ve noticed the splash of red that started to stain across the bridge of his nose. 

“What a charmer! Your hair’s nice, too - really nice, actually. Hope you let me comb through it again.” 

You smiled bashfully, bumped your shot glasses together with a ‘clink’ and knocked back the pair of snakebites. Burning, tinged with the citrus of lime juice, but it felt good going down, and Chris’s warm smile only served to soothe that burn. His eye twinkled mischievously as he watched you set the shot glass back down with a heavy hand.

“Wanna do another?”

The two of you got caught in your own world for god knows how long, chatting about who the fuck cares and getting totally shitfaced. You didn’t remember the last time you felt so light - it’s always so easy with Chris, he’s such a calming presence. At one point in the night you told him he reminded you of a capybara, and he drunkenly laughed and said you reminded him of a deer. You pulled a face and asked him why the hell are you a deer? And he said, “ No it totally makes sense. You’re this pretty, flighty thing but you got antlers and they fuckin’ hurt when you use them. Also, when you get surprised you get this cute wide-eyed look.” There were no further questions, you were busy downing your drink to quell the fuzzy feeling in your chest.

It could’ve been minutes or hours the two of you spent talking, but it couldn’t last forever. You were far gone, but you were with it enough to notice raised voices near down the other end of the bar. You furrowed your eyebrows, ignoring Chris mid sentence as you leaned to the side to look around him and see what the big deal was, only to see Steve-O jabbing his finger at a much larger bloke’s chest. 

“Shit.”

“What?” Chris turned to see what you were looking at. “Ah shit. ”

To Chris’ surprise, Steve-O didn’t even seem to be the aggressor this time - the stranger, clearly wasted off his fucking nut, had a demeanour like a rabid dog, shoulders hunched over and shoving at Steve’s shoulder. Instinctively, your face screwed up in distaste as you watched it unfold, tensions rising when the guy grabbed Steve by the front of his shirt. Like you were on autopilot, you got up from your stool and marched over, ignorant to Chris’ slurred questions and your unsteady feet.

You knew damn well Steve-O can take care of himself, but to be entirely honest, this wasn’t for him. You were pissed in both senses of the word, and this was what you wanted to do.

“Mind your fucking business!” You barked, yanking the guy by the back of his shirt to get his attention. He looked over his shoulder, but didn’t pay you much more mind. Alright dick, as if you were gonna get ignored like that. You looped round, wedging yourself in between him and Steve and started pushing at the strangers chest. “Hey asshole fuckin’ look at me! I said mind your fucking business! ”

“The fuck ‘s this?” He asked, shoving you back by the shoulder like he did Steve. “Your fuckin’ bird stickin’ her neck out for you?”

“‘M not a fuckin’ bird shit for brains.”

“The fuck does he mean ‘ bird ’?” Steve asked nobody in particular, because right now your tunnel vision was set on the random man twice your size.

“Stop yapping and get the fuck out of my way, dizzy cunt.” The stranger spat, moving to push past you but you threw your entire weight into his front, managing to knock him back.

“I'll show you a dizzy cunt you fuckin’ bell end!”

You jammed your boot into his shins as hard as you could, and though it knocked you off balance, you steadied yourself in time to catch him wincing. However, it didn’t nearly have the effect you hoped. What followed happened too fast for you to really catch on - one second you were on your feet, the next your head hit the sticky bar floor, hot pain starting to radiate across your face and the taste of metal arising in your mouth as the edges of your vision started to black out. The stranger was ushered out by security - no matter the fact you were the little shit starter, if security sees a big guy knock someone out, they’re gonna be the one getting kicked out. Just before you totally blacked out, some familiar concerned faces crowded around you, and it kinda reminded you of when you wiped out on that ramp the first time you met them all, especially when Knoxville said,

“ Shit, [Y/n] you good? How’s your head?”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Ugh…Wow… 

Your head really fucking hurts.

You don’t know who you are, where you are, anything really, but you could be sure of that much.

Your head really really fucking hurts.

Well, that and one other thing you noticed - the distant sound of people talking, maybe in a hallway? If you opened your eyes you could probably figure it out, but you didn’t really feel like it right now. In fact, considering the way you felt right now, you didn’t want to move for a million years. Which is saying something, since whatever you were lying on was pretty uncomfortable, starchy and stiff, nothing like your sheets at home. So, you could rule out home. One step closer to solving the mystery. You could hear other sounds nearer to you, things like coughing or hushed conversation; if you put in the effort, you could just about make it out. Something full of jargon, sounded professional. Well that’s just confusing, why would you be asleep somewhere professional? Through the thin skin of your eyelids, you could also tell there was a lot of bright light, light that’d probably hurt when and if you decide to open up. Looking forward to that. Bet that’ll do wonders for your head. Despite your hesitation, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get much more information without using all of your senses, so begrudgingly, you opened your eyes.

“ Jesus! ” You jolted at the unexpected presence of a man in hospital scrubs standing right next to you. The initial spike of your heart rate soon calmed as he looked at you with confusion; your expression was purely disgruntled. “Do you just… hang around like that? Waiting to jumpscare unconscious people?” He didn’t respond, simply picked up a telephone receiver on the bedside table and made a succinct message. You started to look around, eyebrows furrowed and eyes twitchy every time a certain movement made your head hurt. “Why aren’t I at the bar? Why am I in a hospital?”

“Your friends brought you into A&E about two hours ago, apparently you were knocked unconscious in a fight.”

You sucked the air through your teeth, reaching up to massage your throbbing temple.

“Shit, again? Man, I’ve gotta stop doing this, can’t be good for my head…”

“Not the first time then?”

“Well, first time getting my shit kicked in by a dude, I think. Unless I just don’t remember.” 

The nurse hummed, he seemed concerned, but ultimately didn’t ask any more questions. He pottered around a bit, checking your blood pressure and heart rate only for it to come back pretty normal, if on the low side. All the while, the painkillers he gave you started to kick in. 

“Hey uh… don’t know your name…”

“Nurse is fine.”

“Impersonal, alright, anyway you said I came here two hours ago? Was I really out that whole time?”

“Actually, when you came in you were conscious, but you fell asleep in the waiting room, and that was a concern due to the possibility of a brain injury.”

At least you weren’t knocked out for that whole time… you started to pick at your hospital wristband, noticing the dried blood stains on your shirt as you looked down. The wristband was kinda cool the more you looked at it, maybe you could laminate it and keep it as a bracelet or something… then when you craned your head up again, you were alone. Huh, no goodbye? Probably a pretty busy guy if he’s working A&E, you didn’t mind hanging out on your own for a bit; in fact, you could probably do with some solitude.

Well too bad, you weren’t getting any.

“Found ‘er.”

Following the familiar gravelly voice came Steve-O’s head ducking through the hospital room doorway. 

“Oh, hey. Did they not tell you where I was?”

“Didn’t even let us follow you, dude.” Steve-O complained, taking a seat next to the hospital bed. “Fuckin’ weak, dunno why they rushed you off like that.”

“Probably ‘cuz of my bad brains.” You flicked your own forehead for emphasis, but just caused a twinge of pain in the process. Steve-O shrugged, leaning his arms on his thighs so he was a bit closer to you.

“You’re fine, bet you’ve gotten worse.” He trailed off for a second, staring at his shoes then back at you. “Why’d you get in between us like that?”

“Eh, don’t know. Had a lot to drink, wanted to piss somebody off… didn’t think he’d actually take a swing though.”

“All bark, huh?”

“No way I have bite, kicked the guy in the fuckin’ shins. He was being an ass anyway, deserved it.”

Steve-O smiled, not the impish one you’re used to but something softer. “...Thanks. That was pretty cool of you.”

You stalled for a second, but settled for mirroring his smile. “Don’t mention it.”

“ [Y/n]!”

Enter, Johnny and Chris. Chris wasted no time coming right up to your bedside. “Dude, did he scramble your brains?”

“Yeah, don’t even remember your name, Chris.”

Chris snickered, but he seemed preoccupied by something. “I, uh… I feel kinda bad about the whole thing, I should’ve held you back or something. I don’t know why I didn’t, it just–”

“If it makes you feel any better, I literally wouldn’t let you stop me.” You assured, shrugging nonchalantly, and he managed to crack a smile.

“Still, sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and ruffled his hair it might’ve been an excuse to touch his hair again . “You’re too soft for your own good, y’know.”

“Jeez, you’d think they’d at least clean the blood offa ya, you look a mess.” Johnny commented, coming up on the other side of your bed to get a good look at you. He looked around for a second, then reached for the box of tissues he spotted.

“There’s blood ? Seriously? But my nose doesn’t hurt..”

“I think the guy had rings on or something, gave you a gash on your cheek.” Steve-O explained, scratching at his left cheek as if to demonstrate. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it, I gotcha.” Johnny assured, dipping a tissue into a glass of water enough to wet it but not have it break apart; his free hand cupped your cheek, warm and directing so he could keep your head facing him, and with a gentler hand than you thought him able, started to dab at the dried blood on your face. Sure, it still hurt , after sitting on your skin so long he had to scrub at some parts, but it was relaxing nonetheless. He let out little ‘sorry’ s every time you winced or hissed, and all too soon, it was over. Without thinking, your head followed his hand as he released your face, chasing the warmth of his palm, and to your relief he didn’t bother to mention it.

“There, now we’re even.”

“Nurse Knoxville.” You teased, resting your arms in your now folded lap as Steve-O and Chris chuckled.

“He’d be a shit nurse.” Steve-O snarked, followed by Chris.

“Bet he can’t pull off the outfit like I can.”

“Real nurses don’t even wear that skimpy shit, look–” Johnny motioned to the nurse stood in the doorway, staring disapprovingly at the group. “ That’s what they actually wear.”

“You shouldn’t be in here.” Your nurse said bluntly, fully entering the room. The guys all brushed him off.

“Nah, ‘s okay, we know her.” Chris assured, as if that was the issue.

“That doesn’t matter, only immediate family’s allowed. We’re not sure of her condition yet.”

“Aw c’mon , look at her, she’s fine.” Steve-O insisted, but the nurse wasn’t going to be convinced as he started to usher Steve out of the shitty plastic chair he was sat in. 

“Really, I’m fine, we’ve gotta go catch a flight anyway so–”

“I really wouldn’t advise that. We’d like to keep you overnight so we can monitor your condition–” The nurse was interrupted by a beeping in his pocket; he pulled out a pager, took one quick glance, then heaved a heavy sigh. “There’s something I need to tend to… can you hang on for ten minutes?”

You nodded, so he swiftly left. Busy, busy man.

Johnny whistled, playing with his hands as he turned back to you. “You don’t have to give ‘em your insurance info or anything?”

“Nope, free healthcare.”

“Great, let’s get you out of this miserable li’l matchbox.”

You weren’t going to argue, you had shit to do. Lucky they didn’t put you in one of those paper-y hospital gowns because you really didn’t feel like staying longer than you absolutely had to. Once Johnny helped you over the metal railing of the hospital bed and Chris picked up your jacket, you hightailed it out of that A&E room before any nurse could stop you. It was still dark when you made it outside, but clearly nearing daylight, as that deep navy started to lighten to an ultramarine blue. You always liked that stage of the night sky, thought it was so pretty when everything was bathed in that hazy blue glow. The rental car was pulled up in front of the hospital entrance so you were all able to pile in as quickly as possible, then off you went on the way home. 

Flashes of street lights flitted past the car window, and you watched as the cityscapes changed and flowed. A tug at your hospital wristband caught your attention, and you turned to Chris.

“Gonna keep it?”

You hummed and gazed at it again. “...Yeah, looks cool.”

With all your fondness for Chris, you hoped you weren’t sitting next to him on the plane back.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4.5/5

Book Blurb:

Opposites attract when a free-spirited American singer-songwriter with ADHD teams up with a charming Irishman to revitalize his family's pub in the next heartfelt romance from the author of Luck and Last Resorts.

Raine Hart is used to the challenges of living with ADHD. It’s why she ditched her life in Boston to busk around Europe as a traveling musician. No boss. No schedule. No one to disappoint but herself. But when a careless mistake in Ireland leaves her unable to perform, she sees no other option but to give up her nomadic life.

Since inheriting the Local, Jack Dunne has wanted to make the pub his own. But the baggage of running a family business and the intrusive thoughts that stem from his OCD make changing things a challenge.

Over a pint with handsome, tattooed Jack, Raine accidentally insults him and the pub. Instead of taking offense, Jack, impressed by her vision of what the pub could be, offers her a job bringing it to life.

But when Raine and Jack develop feelings for one another their opposite lifestyles won’t accommodate, it becomes clear the pub isn’t the only thing that needs reinventing. As the end of their business collaboration draws near, they’ll have to find a way past the limits they’ve placed on themselves or let go of a love that could last a lifetime.

Review:

When wandering American musician with ADHD Raine Hart gets her guitar stolen while exploring Europe she ends up in a Irish pub in Cobh where she meets the handsome tattooed bar owner Jack Dunne who not only offers her free lodgings but offers her a job as the new events organizer for his bar! Raine has always felt like she messes up, her ADHD making her life difficult and she just wants to pursue her goal of making it as a musician. Yet the moment she lands in Europe from Boston, her guitar is stolen and so she ends up in a bar reevaluating her life... and then a very handsome and charming tattooed stranger comes sits next to her and next thing she knows she is being offered a job (of which she has no experience) but she can't help but want to make it work. Jack Dunne is owner of the Local, a pub that he wants to make his own. He has crippling OCD and family trauma from an abusive dad that has left him trying to just find a way to live a normal life. Jack was a tattoo artist but gave it up when his OCD got so bad. He's been trying to find ways to make the bar better but with OCD that has him barely even able to visit the bar, it makes it hard. Yet the moment he meets Raine he knows he'll do anything to have her working there. Yet the more time they spend together the harder it becomes to maintain the line between professional coworkers and two people who are perfect for each other. This was such a charming and sweet story and I adored the progression of the relationship between Raine and Jack as they both had a lot of baggage but were working to help each other. This was definitely a great read.

*Thanks Netgalley and Berkley Publishing Group, Berkley for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[ladybugmeat]

6.

RESIDENT TRANSIENT

And forth we riden, a litel more than pas,

Un-to the watering of seint Thomas.

                             — Geoffrey Chaucer

In 1392, Old Kent Road had windmills. The dusty thoroughfare, paved by the Romans, crossed vast swathes of green pasture. In ‘the watering of seint Thomas’, a pub that stands unoccupied today, Geoffrey Chaucer’s thirty-one pilgrims assembled. Whilst their horses drank from a small stream, the men ordered  half-pints and spoke of their impending expedition. Upon the setting of the sun, the pilgrims would arrive in Canterbury. Kneeling before the shrine of the murdered Saint Thomas Becket, the pilgrims would seek spiritual guidance. The gilded tomb held a piece of the martyr’s vestment and a fragment of finger bone.

PREMISE :

Amongst Chaucer’s clan are impoverished monks, gallant knights, foolhardy drunks, disillusioned workmen, a reticent lawyer, a cook afflicted with a chancre sore, sexual deviants, crude wives, curators and sufferers of love triangles, crinkle-cut-haired brown-nosers, and more. Along the pilgrimage, speakers surface and retire. Sometimes tales converge and grate. Though on large, Chaucer’s string of pithy and didactic vignettes promote a chivalrous and honest temperament. Above all religion, class constraints, and conflicts, Chaucer foregrounds compassion.

Along my travels of Old Kent Road, I encountered transients of various dispositions. Unbeknownst to today’s itinerants, Chaucer immortalised their predecessors and The Kent Road as a celebrated site of flux. Nick Dunn describes an environment’s past to echo through its future shape. ‘The difference lies in their restless ability to meld together. As such, we find ourselves consistently presented with the ‘new’, but it is typically anything but, concocted as it is from earlier eras albeit in variegated forms.’ I intend to align Chaucer's voices with those I have heard. Through overlaying their stories, one can harness a fuller psychogeography. I will meld Situationist practice, Old English, and verbatim.

THE REEVE’S TALE

[The Reeve’s Tale is a story of revenge. I imagined the two itinerants who spoke with broad Northern dialects to mirror the two student clerks who avenge themselves on a dishonest miller. I have substituted the Miller’s thievery with the sinister talons of The Cost of Living Crisis. The men spoke at length upon how they wished to injure the politicians at fault. I have adopted the Situationist practice and poetic voice of Robert Montgomery.]

[kyleetryme]

skibidi toilet alpha rizz cranking 90’s with my sigmas livvy dunn and kai cenat

anyway can i give john laurens a pint of beer 💔💔😣 (this is a threat im at his doorstep)

[agentnash]

the recognition that came with the woman taking off her sunglasses was immediate. despite the change in hair and clothes, if you lingered for even a second on her features, anyone would be able to tell that she was the supposedly murdered wife plastered across television screens. amy dunne walks into the seedy bar, and parker pretends he didn’t watch her do so, instead taking a swig from his beer and glancing around the bar. he was looking for a suspect, someone he had been watching for a week while he was undercover. nothing had surface on that front yet, the man he had been tracking acting normal enough that parker often wondered if he knew he was being watched. eyes only return to the blonde when she asks if she can sit down in the only empty stool at the bar, which happened to be right next to him.  ‘be my guest,’  parker offers nonchalantly, tapping the bar for another pint, leaning plaid covered elbows on the countertop.  ‘if you’re looking for a quality drink, you came to th’wrong bar,’  he says to her after a moment, talking over the country music that blared loudly around them.  ‘i’ve had three beers, and they’ve all been fucking flat,’ @gravedanger.

[kohla7]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: RAE Dunn by Magenta Beer Mug Set Black Letter BEER SUDS new in box.

[pulsdmedia]

The Week Ahead 3/3-3/9

Can you believe we are already in March? Well, the good news the weather is getting warmer and the week ends with daylight savings time! An hour of extra sun is just 6 days away. But for now, allow us to shine some light onto your week!

The 2024 NYC Craft Brew Festival

If you are thirsty and you know it, you just had to wait until the weekend! Yes, The 2024 NYC Craft Brew Festival is just days away and tickets are pricked at $39 to spend 3.5 hours drinking 100+ Local, National, & International Beers from beloved brands. Lock your weekend plans in now!

Bai x Sydney Sweeney Tasting Pop-Up

Join Bai for an immersive experience and tasting of the new Raspberry Lemon Lime flavor, created in partnership with Sydney Sweeney! Bai is bringing Sydney's flavorful history and passion for hydration to NYC in a way that screams It’s WonderWater.

Pour The Perfect Pint Of Guinness

If you like Guinness, cocktails, and delicious pub food, you cannot miss Master The Pint taking place this week at Bartley Dunne's. pulsd members can enjoy an exclusive 50% off of tickets to this boozy soirée, complete with 1 Pint of Guinness, a Complementary Welcome Cocktail, Delicious Hors D'oeuvres, and a Souvenir Glass.

Press Restart Beauty Pop-Up + Coffee

Experience Versed's retinol collection IRL, score exclusive merchandise, and enjoy complimentary coffee and treats at their Press Restart pop-up! This fabulous fête will highlight the adore beauty brand's latest developments, all while you indulge!

Moroccan Nights Dinner & Show At Elsie Rooftop

Moroccan Nights Dinner & Show at Elsie Rooftop is one of the longest running series on pulsd and it is easy to see just why. Incredible value where $59 gets you a 2 Course Dinner For Two, along with a Spiked Teapot filled with tea-infused cocktails. Then get ready for some real belly dancing magic...

MultiBrand Sample Sale Event

Join 260 Sample Sale at their Lafayette store to shop their Men's MultiBrand Streetwear Event! Shop top styles from several high-quality, beloved brands, collecting new wardrobe staples. As we transition our closets from winter to spring, this is the perfect opportunity to collect some new pieces!

[belladonna-miranda]

Jackass Weekly Horoscopes (January 15-21, 2024)

Since last week was just a test astrology post for Jackass, I decided to include not only the main cast, but also associated crew members.

Aries (March 21-April 19) ♈🔥

April Margera: 3/28/1956

By the time Venus in Sagittarius squares Neptune in Pisces on Friday the 19th, April will have realized that what she wants isn't always what she gets in real life. Therefore, this week will predict an improvement in socialization as Pluto enters her social zone over the weekend.

Taurus (April 20-May 20) ♉🌿

Wee Man: 5/16/1973

Mercury in Capricorn will trine Jupiter in Wee Man's sign, Taurus on Friday, leading to a gain in knowledge three weeks into 2024, whereas the sun enters Aquarius and his professional life on Saturday. Consequently, this pint-sized troublemaker will be ready to conquer his lifelong endeavors throughout the rest of the month.

Gemini (May 21-June 20) ♊🍃

Raab Himself: 5/21/1980; Rick Kosick: 5/25/1967; Ryan Dunn: 6/11/1977-6/20/2011; Steve-O: 6/13/1974

Geminis are known for their curiosity and socialization, but taking time to communicate with loved ones during the week will strengthen their connection with them. Furthermore, their naturally adventurous demeanor will peak on Saturday with the sun in Aquarius and new beginnings arising.

Cancer (June 21-July 22) ♋🌊

Phil Margera: 7/13/1957; Chris Pontius: 7/16/1974

Both Phil's and Party Boy's love lives will receive a boost from the sextile of Neptune in Pisces and sun in Capricorn, and the sun in Aquarius will further change them, physically and mentally. Pluto's entrance into their transformation zones on Saturday the 20th gives them an opportunity to balance both light and dark.

Leo (July 23-August 22) ♌🔥

Preston Lacy: 8/14/1969

Preston will kick off the week with a few life changes with the sun in Capricorn and Neptune in Pisces (e.g., walking once a day) for an eventual mental transformation. Likewise, the sun's entry in Aquarius and Pluto in his partnership zone will both bring Preston new enemies, allies, and possible love interests.

Virgo (August 23-September 22) ♍🌿

Jeff Tremaine: 9/4/1966; Lance Bangs: 9/4/1972; Zach Holmes: 9/11/1991

Mercury in Capricorn trinesJupiter in Taurus on Friday, making for a perfect time to begin new projects, focus on hobbies, and/or visit a movie theater for inspiration. After all, these risk-taking Virgos should begin some healthy habits like cooking or baking now that 2024 is almost three weeks in.

Libra (September 23-October 22)♎🍃

Bam Margera: 9/28/1979; Jasper Dolphin: 9/28/1990; Poopies: 10/21/1986

A possibility of deception befalls these Libras when Venus in Sagittarius trines Neptune in Pisces on Friday, though the sun in Aquarius compensates for paranoia by means of creativity. Therefore, a balance of passion, intellect, and romantic abilities make for one reinvented definition of needs.

Scorpio (October 23-November 21) ♏🌊

Brandon DiCamillo: 11/15/1976

DiCo's creative projects will tide him over for the week because Mercury in Capricorn sextiles Saturn in Pisces on Thursday, giving him endless ideas to plot out. The heart of winter is also a good time for focusing on personal life as well with the sun entering Aquarius and his home zone on Saturday along with Pluto in Aquarius aiding in family conflict.

Sagittarius (November 22-December 21) ♐🔥

Danger Ehren: 11/29/1976; Eric Manaka: 12/9/1999; Brandon Novak: 12/10/1978

Venus in these three people's sign squares Neptune in Pisces on Friday, so a slew of long-buried secrets resurfaces for them to attempt to solve their own problems along with those of some other people. When the sun and Pluto enter Aquarius enter their communication zones over the weekend, Ehren will be the most affected by this alignment due to his recent real estate ventures.

Capricorn (December 22-January 19) ♑🌿

Dave England: 12/30/1969

On Thursday the 18th, Mercury in Dave's sign sextiles Saturn in Pisces, resulting in an ideal day for a chat due to his ease in conversation. Capricorn season concludes with the sun in Aquarius and his value zone and Pluto leaving his sign for Aquarius, giving him plenty of time to focus on wealth.

Aquarius (January 20-February 18) ♒🍃

Rake Yohn: 1/20/1975; Rachel Wolfson: 1/23/1987

Potential growth is in both Rake's and Rachel's favors as Saturday begins their season with the sun moving into their sign, meaning that self-acceptance is the goal for the week and, by extension, their season. As Pluto moves into their sign the same day, this trying period will result from shedding their negative and traditional mindsets.

Pisces: (February 19-March 20) ♓🌊

Dimitry Elyashkevich: 2/25/1975; Johnny Knoxville: 3/11/1971

The third week of 2024 begins on a dreamy note for Dimitry and Knoxville with the sextile of the sun in Capricorn and Neptune in their sign, leading to visions of how the rest of the year will go for them. As the sun in Aquarius and Pluto enter their subconscious zones on Saturday, meditation can alleviate any mental stress, especially Knoxville due in no small part to his countless injuries over the years.

What does your outlook look like this week? Link

[brookston]

Holidays 11.25

Holidays

Blasé Day

Carers Rights Day (UK)

Catterntide

CNSO Day (India)

Day Against Domestic Violence (EU)

Don’t Utter a Word Day

Evacuation Day (NYC)

Family Day (Palau)

Global Family Business Day

Hari Guru (a.k.a. Teacher's Day; Indonesia)

Homeland Security Day

International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women (UN)

International Hat Day

Mangé Yam (Yam Festival; Haiti)

Meh Day

Monkey Buffet Festival (Thailand)

Moquegua City Foundation Day (Peru)

Mousetrap Day

National Day (Bosnia and Herzegovina)

National Don't Utter a Word Day

National Lap Dance Day

National Natural Fibers Day

National Play with Dad

National Rugby Day

National Shopping Reminder Day

Pig Day (French Republic)

SAK Meatless Day

Shopping Reminder Day [1 Month 'till Xmas]

Sixteen Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence begins [ends 12.10]

Vajiravudh Memorial Day (Thailand)

White Ribbon Day (Australia, UK)

Women's Merrymaking Day

World Safari Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Egg Fried Rice Day (China)

National “Eat with a Friend” Day

National Parfait Day

4th & Last Saturday in November

Canadian Craft Beer Day [Last Saturday]

ClauWau begins (a.k.a. Santa Claus World Championships; Switzerland) [Last Saturday]

Holodomor Remembrance Day (Ukraine) [4th Saturday]

International Aura Awareness Day [4th Saturday]

Minnesota Pint Day (a.k.a. MN Pint Day; Minnesota) [Saturday after Black Friday]

Saturday after Thanksgiving (US) [4th Saturday] (a.k.a. ... 

Buy Nothing Day (UK)

Small Business Saturday

Swine Time Festival (Climax, Georgia)

Turkey Leftovers Day

World Day of Giving ‘Last Saturday]

Independence Days

Duaktoserija (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Ongal (Declared; 2014) [unrecognized]

Statehood Day (Bosnia and Herzegovina)

Suriname (a.k.a. Srefidensi; from the Netherlands, 1975)

Feast Days

Bitterness Day (Church of the SubGenius)

Catherine Labouré (Christian; Saint)

Catherine of Alexandria (Christian; Saint)

Elizabeth of Reute (Christian; Saint)

Erasmus (a.k.a. Elme; Christian; Saint)

Gazpacho Soup Day (Pastafarian)

Isaac Watts (Lutheran Church and Church of England)

James Otis Sargent Huntington (Episcopal Church)

Lucy the Australopithecine Discovery Day (Pastafarian)

Maurice Denis (Artology)

Media Autumnus IV (Pagan)

Persephone (a.k.a. Kore; celebration for the Goddess of Vegetation; Ancient Greece)

Richelieu (Positivist; Saint)

Tom Turkey (Muppetism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Premieres

Aladdin (Animated Disney Film; 1992)

Anticipation, by Carly Simon (Song; 1971)

The Artist (Film; 2011)

The Beatles: Get Back (Documentary Series; 2021)

The Bodyguard (Film; 1992)

Brooklyn (Film; 2015)

A Bug’s Life (Animated Pixar Film; 1998)

Caveman Inki (WB LT Cartoon; 1950)

Creed (Film; 2015)

The Croods: A New Age (Animated Film; 2020)

Ferdinand the Bull (Disney Cartoon; 1938)

Frozen: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (Album; 2013)

Gentlemen Jim (Film; 1942)

Geri’s Game (Pixar Cartoon; 1998)

Giantland (Disney Cartoon; 1933)

The Good Dinosaur (Animated Film; 2015)

The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special (TV Special; 2022)

Journey to the Center of the Earth, by Jules Verne (Novel; 1864)

The Last Waltz (Concert Film; 1976)

Lego Scooby-Doo! Knight Time Terror (WB Animated Film; 2015)

Let It Go, by Idina Menzel (Song; 2013)

New Wave Hookers (Adult Film; 1985)

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (Film; 1987)

The Princess and the Frog (Animated Disney Film; 2009)

The Saint Steps In, by Leslie Charteris (Novel; 1943) [Saint #25]

Sevens, by Garth Brooks (Album; 1997)

Slide, Donald, Slide (Disney Cartoon; 1949)

Spotlight (Film; 2015)

Three Men and a Baby (Film; 1987)

Tintin in Tibet, by Hergé (Graphic Novel; 1960) [Tintin #20]

Walter Woolfe, or the Doom of the Drinker, by Thomas Dunn English (Novel; 1842)

You Always Hurt the One You Love, by The Mills Brothers (Song; 1944)

Today’s Name Days

Katharina, Kathrin, Katja (Austria)

Kliment, Klimentina (Bulgaria)

Erazmo, Katarina (Croatia)

Kateřina (Czech Republic)

Catharina (Denmark)

Kaarin, Kadi, Kadri, Kadrin, Karin, Katariina, Kati, Katre, Katri, Katrin, Triin, Triina, Triinu (Estonia)

Kaarina, Kaija, Kaisa, Kaisu, Katariina, Kati, Katja, Katri, Katriina, Riina (Finland)

Catherine (France)

Katharina, Kathrin, Katja, Jasmin (Germany)

Aikaterine, Aikaterini, Katerina, Merkourios (Greece)

Katalin (Hungary)

Caterina (Italy)

Kate, Katrīna, Trīne (Latvia)

Germilė, Kotryna, Santautas (Lithuania)

Kari, Katarina, Katrine (Norway)

Erazm, Jozafat, Katarzyna, Tęgomir (Poland)

Ecaterina (Romania)

Katarína (Slovakia)

Catalina (Spain)

Katarina, Katja (Sweden)

Caitlin, Caitlyn, Carina, Caryn, Catherine, Cathleen, Cathy Kaitlin, Kaitlynn, Kara, Karen, Kari, Karina, Kate, Katelyn, Katelynn, Katharine, Katherine, Kathleen, Kathryn, Kathy, Katie, Katrina, Treena, Trina, Trinity (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 329 of 2024; 36 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of week 47 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Ngetal (Reed) [Day 26 of 28]

Chinese: Month 10 (Gui-Hai), Day 13 (Ding-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 12 Kislev 5784

Islamic: 12 Jumada I 1445

J Cal: 29 Mir; Eightday [29 of 30]

Julian: 12 November 2023

Moon: 97%: Waxing Gibbous

Positivist: 21 Frederic (12th Month) [Richelieu]

Runic Half Month: Nyd (Necessity) [Day 15 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 63 of 89)

Zodiac: Sagittarius (Day 4 of 30)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 11.25

Holidays

Blasé Day

Carers Rights Day (UK)

Catterntide

CNSO Day (India)

Day Against Domestic Violence (EU)

Don’t Utter a Word Day

Evacuation Day (NYC)

Family Day (Palau)

Global Family Business Day

Hari Guru (a.k.a. Teacher's Day; Indonesia)

Homeland Security Day

International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women (UN)

International Hat Day

Mangé Yam (Yam Festival; Haiti)

Meh Day

Monkey Buffet Festival (Thailand)

Moquegua City Foundation Day (Peru)

Mousetrap Day

National Day (Bosnia and Herzegovina)

National Don't Utter a Word Day

National Lap Dance Day

National Natural Fibers Day

National Play with Dad

National Rugby Day

National Shopping Reminder Day

Pig Day (French Republic)

SAK Meatless Day

Shopping Reminder Day [1 Month 'till Xmas]

Sixteen Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence begins [ends 12.10]

Vajiravudh Memorial Day (Thailand)

White Ribbon Day (Australia, UK)

Women's Merrymaking Day

World Safari Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Egg Fried Rice Day (China)

National “Eat with a Friend” Day

National Parfait Day

4th & Last Saturday in November

Canadian Craft Beer Day [Last Saturday]

ClauWau begins (a.k.a. Santa Claus World Championships; Switzerland) [Last Saturday]

Holodomor Remembrance Day (Ukraine) [4th Saturday]

International Aura Awareness Day [4th Saturday]

Minnesota Pint Day (a.k.a. MN Pint Day; Minnesota) [Saturday after Black Friday]

Saturday after Thanksgiving (US) [4th Saturday] (a.k.a. ... 

Buy Nothing Day (UK)

Small Business Saturday

Swine Time Festival (Climax, Georgia)

Turkey Leftovers Day

World Day of Giving ‘Last Saturday]

Independence Days

Duaktoserija (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Ongal (Declared; 2014) [unrecognized]

Statehood Day (Bosnia and Herzegovina)

Suriname (a.k.a. Srefidensi; from the Netherlands, 1975)

Feast Days

Bitterness Day (Church of the SubGenius)

Catherine Labouré (Christian; Saint)

Catherine of Alexandria (Christian; Saint)

Elizabeth of Reute (Christian; Saint)

Erasmus (a.k.a. Elme; Christian; Saint)

Gazpacho Soup Day (Pastafarian)

Isaac Watts (Lutheran Church and Church of England)

James Otis Sargent Huntington (Episcopal Church)

Lucy the Australopithecine Discovery Day (Pastafarian)

Maurice Denis (Artology)

Media Autumnus IV (Pagan)

Persephone (a.k.a. Kore; celebration for the Goddess of Vegetation; Ancient Greece)

Richelieu (Positivist; Saint)

Tom Turkey (Muppetism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Premieres

Aladdin (Animated Disney Film; 1992)

Anticipation, by Carly Simon (Song; 1971)

The Artist (Film; 2011)

The Beatles: Get Back (Documentary Series; 2021)

The Bodyguard (Film; 1992)

Brooklyn (Film; 2015)

A Bug’s Life (Animated Pixar Film; 1998)

Caveman Inki (WB LT Cartoon; 1950)

Creed (Film; 2015)

The Croods: A New Age (Animated Film; 2020)

Ferdinand the Bull (Disney Cartoon; 1938)

Frozen: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (Album; 2013)

Gentlemen Jim (Film; 1942)

Geri’s Game (Pixar Cartoon; 1998)

Giantland (Disney Cartoon; 1933)

The Good Dinosaur (Animated Film; 2015)

The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special (TV Special; 2022)

Journey to the Center of the Earth, by Jules Verne (Novel; 1864)

The Last Waltz (Concert Film; 1976)

Lego Scooby-Doo! Knight Time Terror (WB Animated Film; 2015)

Let It Go, by Idina Menzel (Song; 2013)

New Wave Hookers (Adult Film; 1985)

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (Film; 1987)

The Princess and the Frog (Animated Disney Film; 2009)

The Saint Steps In, by Leslie Charteris (Novel; 1943) [Saint #25]

Sevens, by Garth Brooks (Album; 1997)

Slide, Donald, Slide (Disney Cartoon; 1949)

Spotlight (Film; 2015)

Three Men and a Baby (Film; 1987)

Tintin in Tibet, by Hergé (Graphic Novel; 1960) [Tintin #20]

Walter Woolfe, or the Doom of the Drinker, by Thomas Dunn English (Novel; 1842)

You Always Hurt the One You Love, by The Mills Brothers (Song; 1944)

Today’s Name Days

Katharina, Kathrin, Katja (Austria)

Kliment, Klimentina (Bulgaria)

Erazmo, Katarina (Croatia)

Kateřina (Czech Republic)

Catharina (Denmark)

Kaarin, Kadi, Kadri, Kadrin, Karin, Katariina, Kati, Katre, Katri, Katrin, Triin, Triina, Triinu (Estonia)

Kaarina, Kaija, Kaisa, Kaisu, Katariina, Kati, Katja, Katri, Katriina, Riina (Finland)

Catherine (France)

Katharina, Kathrin, Katja, Jasmin (Germany)

Aikaterine, Aikaterini, Katerina, Merkourios (Greece)

Katalin (Hungary)

Caterina (Italy)

Kate, Katrīna, Trīne (Latvia)

Germilė, Kotryna, Santautas (Lithuania)

Kari, Katarina, Katrine (Norway)

Erazm, Jozafat, Katarzyna, Tęgomir (Poland)

Ecaterina (Romania)

Katarína (Slovakia)

Catalina (Spain)

Katarina, Katja (Sweden)

Caitlin, Caitlyn, Carina, Caryn, Catherine, Cathleen, Cathy Kaitlin, Kaitlynn, Kara, Karen, Kari, Karina, Kate, Katelyn, Katelynn, Katharine, Katherine, Kathleen, Kathryn, Kathy, Katie, Katrina, Treena, Trina, Trinity (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 329 of 2024; 36 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of week 47 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Ngetal (Reed) [Day 26 of 28]

Chinese: Month 10 (Gui-Hai), Day 13 (Ding-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 12 Kislev 5784

Islamic: 12 Jumada I 1445

J Cal: 29 Mir; Eightday [29 of 30]

Julian: 12 November 2023

Moon: 97%: Waxing Gibbous

Positivist: 21 Frederic (12th Month) [Richelieu]

Runic Half Month: Nyd (Necessity) [Day 15 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 63 of 89)

Zodiac: Sagittarius (Day 4 of 30)

[dystopiancitizen]

Book Review: Girl on the Verge by Pintip Dunn

Book Review: Girl on the Verge by @pintipdunn #YA A diverse, own voices, twisted thriller.

Title: Girl on the Verge Author: Pintip Dunn Publisher: Kensington Publication Date: June 27th, 2017 Genre: YA, Contemporary, Thriller Format: Ebook My Rating: 4/5 stars   Plot: How far would you go to belong? In her small Kansas town, at her predominantly white school, Kanchana doesn’t look like anyone else. But at home, her Thai grandmother chides her for being too westernized. Only through…

[veronicamarsconfessions]

Editor’s Note: TV moves on, but we haven’t. In our feature series It Still Stings, we relive emotional TV moments that we just can’t get over. You know the ones, where months, years, or even decades later, it still provokes a reaction? We’re here for you. We rant because we love. Or, once loved. And obviously, when discussing finales in particular, there will be spoilers:

There was a time when Veronica Mars’ legacy was that of a beloved cult show that was canceled too soon by network executives who didn’t understand it. With the arrival of a crowd-funded feature film in 2014, its legacy evolved as one of the first shows to see the benefits of a revival. Now, it simply brings thoughts of sadness, rage, and betrayal.

When Hulu first announced it was reviving the series for an eight-episode fourth season, the news was met with resounding joy from a vocal and passionate fanbase that had never given up hope it would return after the crowd-funded feature film reunited Kristen Bell’s Veronica, a pint-sized private eye with a sharp mind and even sharper wit, with her one true love, the reformed bad boy Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring). But the fire that had burned for more than a decade and twice-revived the show was suddenly extinguished in a single, heartbreaking, and wholly unnecessary moment when Logan was killed by a bomb left in Veronica’s car shortly after the couple exchanged wedding vows.

I can still remember the shock I felt when I reached the end of the screeners Hulu sent. The whole thing felt kind of surreal, like if I didn’t acknowledge what had happened out loud maybe it didn’t actually happen. But it did happen. And I’m still filled with a fiery rage and a deep sadness when I think about it now, nearly two years removed from the episode in question, because needlessly killing Logan was a betrayal of the worst kind. The character’s untimely demise felt engineered for nothing more than shock value, like it existed only to leave Veronica even more isolated and cynical. But the interviews that series creator Rob Thomas gave in the aftermath, in which he tried to defend the decision, revealed something much worse while only driving the knife he’d stuck in fans’ backs deeper.

“In order for us to keep doing these, I think it needs to become a detective show—a noir, mystery, detective show—and those elements of teenage soap need to be behind us,” Thomas told TV Guide of the decision to kill Logan, noting that he also hoped to take Veronica out of Neptune and on the road in potential future seasons. “I sort of viewed these eight episodes as a bridge to what Veronica Mars might be moving forward.”

Instead of being a bridge to the future, it was a bridge to a grave of Thomas’ own making. Not since How I Met Your Mother ignored literal years of character development to deliver a half-cooked series finale the creators had come up with several years prior has a show felt so out of touch with its characters, the story it was telling, and its fans. Thomas’ decision to kill Logan is the perfect example of a creator being unable to recognize their own biases to the detriment of their creation.

He wrongly believed that Veronica needed to be hardened by years of nonstop torment and trauma in order to prove she was a great detective whose story was worth continuing. In putting her through the emotional wringer (again) after spending the entire season attempting to dig into her flaws and determine the root of her problems, Thomas swiftly undermined his heroine and her trauma with one misguided act of devastating violence. The fact that Thomas then chose to also skip over Veronica’s grieving process entirely reveals how little he ultimately thought of Logan or Veronica’s relationship with him, which had pushed her to be better and work through her longtime trust issues.

It is common knowledge by now that Logan was not intended to be Veronica’s love interest when the show debuted, but the fans took to the character more than they took to Teddy Dunn’s Duncan “He Used to Be My Boyfriend” Kane, so the latter was jettisoned from the show after Season 2. And in the end, Logan turned out to be a much better partner and match for Veronica’s personality. So what’s truly unfortunate about Thomas killing Logan, and killing him so violently, is that his thought process during Season 4 has the potential to color everything that happened in the show up until the moment the bomb went off. There is also the issue that Thomas apparently believed that Veronica achieving some level of romantic happiness was a one-way ticket to the grave, as if shows like Friday Night Lights hadn’t already soundly debunked the myth that happy couples did not make great TV.

Obviously an emotional family drama does not play by the same rules as noir, but Veronica Mars had already proven that you don’t need to play firmly within the sandbox of the genre to excel creatively. So why should the more adult version of the show attempt to put itself back in the box to be confined to something more traditional or stereotypical? Furthermore, love and contentment are not character flaws or weaknesses. They are not an element of “teenage soap,” as Thomas put it. In fact, one could argue that by allowing herself to believe that she and Logan could have a happy future together regardless of everything she’d witnessed in her line of work, Veronica had shown more personal and emotional growth in the show’s fourth season than she had in the entire run of the series.

At the heart of the matter, though, is one simple, glaring truth: Logan’s death was a fundamental misreading of the entire Veronica Mars fandom and what they liked about the show. Storytelling should never be dictated by the fans and their desires—one of the loudest and most common complaints critics had about the movie was that it felt too much like Thomas was just giving the fans what they wanted rather than attempting to tell a good story—but when your fandom has dug their hands into the cold soil of the TV graveyard to raise your show from the dead, you should probably have a grasp on what exactly the fans like about it in the first place. After all, they’re the reason you still exist and will be one of the final arbiters of whether or not you get to continue to exist in the future. And the idea that fans would somehow be interested in watching a version of Veronica Mars in which Veronica was on the road, completely alone, and Logan was blown to bits is just a wild miscalculation.

This isn’t to suggest Veronica Mars could not ever survive without Logan. That would be to undercut the rest of the show and the woman Veronica has become since we first saw her cutting Wallace (Percy Daggs III) off the flagpole in the series’ pilot. But there is a difference in writing Logan out of the show’s ongoing story arc—his secretive Naval career offered the perfect out—and violently killing him in an attempt to shock viewers and show just how resilient your heroine is in the face of trauma. A survivor of rape who had to solve the murder of her best friend (Amanda Seyfried) while still in high school because the sheriff’s department was too inept to do it (or simply did not care to do it), Veronica had already been through more in her young life than anyone should ever have to live through.

Although Logan’s death led to her finally seeing a therapist, it seemed to be a one-time thing, so nothing has really changed. Veronica is still the same person she was before the show returned, except now she’s also a widow and Thomas has alienated an entire fanbase to the point that many fans, though likely not all, have no interest in revisiting her story. And they’re not likely to either, since Hulu chose not to move forward with another season.

So much for that bridge to the future.