#bitter over Yale

[snarkysophie]

I really wanted to be friends with Garwin.

[zweiginator]

imagine being academic rivals with patrick, you both have some type of work to do but you both need some answers, and you both have some pent up frustration and tension, so you make it a sort of game so whoever makes the other cum gets the answers....

oh ive thought about lawstudent!patrick many times... his father is heavily influential in your city. he's a bigshot attorney in big law and he expects nothing less from his son. his father and his grandfather are partners at their own firm, but his grandfather is getting old, and patrick is next in line.

and while patrick has daddy issues and shares the same emotional unavailability that he fosters towards his son--all he wants is to please him. he scored almost perfectly on the LSAT; he got a 4.0 GPA at a top university. and he goes into his first day of law school with the belief that he is the best. that he will continue to be the best. having the last name zweig in this field makes him a god amongst men. and it's that cockiness and academic fervor that will make him partner directly after the bar exam.

but that's three years from now, and all he needs to worry about on his very first day is making a good impression. so he puts on his grey suit and a blue tie to match Yale's colors and he paints a big smile on his face. a zweig smile.

you have your first class with him. patrick was busy chatting up the dean of students--and frankly being an ass kisser--so he was a tad short on time. there is only one seat left and patrick takes it, straightening his suit jacket. you peer down at the nametag adjacent to his collar and have to hold back an eye roll. of course, patrick zweig goes to fucking yale.

from what you've heard about him, he's had his whole fucking life plotted out from the beginning. born to an uber-rich politically connected family in suburban connecticut, he lived in a huge mansion with maids and full-time nannies. he excelled in tennis due to his father paying for exorbitantly expensive lessons and he went to the best ivy feeder school on the east coast. there, he had dozens of tutors who taught him strategies for the SAT, the ACT, the AP exams. he got perfect scores on everything and was spat out at Stanford, where he conveniently played tennis all four years, aced the LSAT and was given four pristine letters of recommendation which landed him here--at yale.

but your story is different and you didn't have au pairs or private school connections. you had a work ethic and tons of scholarships. years of grueling dedication which made your acceptance letter to yale that much more meaningful. you doubt patrick was at all surprised to make it here.

patrick notices how your demeanor changes as you glance over his nametag. and he wouldn't care usually, but something about the tick of your jaw pisses him off.

and you don't like his know-it-all attitude. how he sucks up to the professor. he uses too much cologne and he has a staring problem too.

the second week of classes, one of your professors assigns you to study groups. she tells you that these are mandatory--you must meet with your study partner at least once a week to catch up on readings, ask and answer questions, and get to know each other.

and somehow, in a lecture of thirty seven students, it happens to be that patrick is your partner. you hesitantly enter your number into his phone.

your first few study sessions are tinged in a palpable tension and a bitter distaste for each other. you don't exchange many words outside of talk about the assigned cases and outlines.

you don't like where your mind leads you, but as you sit on his couch, you realize patrick is quite attractive. his hair is messier and he wears a well-loved stanford tennis t-shirt and linen pajama pants. his glasses are perched on his nose and a yellow highlighter sits between his lips as he flips through his text book.

and patrick would be a liar if he didn't admit you're attractive too. he likes your hair up how you have it, your eyes sleepy and your voice more relaxed. you're wearing shorts and a yale hoodie and you smell good--like coconut and vanilla.

but you both chug along, until it's well past midnight and both of you are burnt out, your hands marked up with pen ink.

"i don't think i'm retaining any of this." patrick admits.

"maybe if you had some work ethic you would." it's a lot meaner than you intended.

"what the fuck is your problem?" patrick caps his highlighter. "i thought i was breaking through to you--but i guess you're still just as fucking uptight as ever."

"some of us have to be uptight." you spit. "our daddies don't pave all of our futures like yours does."

patrick leans forward, grabbing the drawstring of your hoodie. "given how connected my family is to the legal field here, i wouldn't get on my bad side."

"is that a threat?" you grab his wrist.

"maybe so."

you slap him. it's loud and harder than you thought you were capable of. you expect patrick to lash out, to kick you out and email faculty--to ruin your life. but he pulls you onto his lap and pushes his mouth against yours. his legs spread wide and you straddle them. he still hasn't kissed you and you're both intently waiting on the other to do so. patrick cups your face impatiently and moves his face closer. you feel his erection on your core.

"we need to study." you say.

patrick sighs and looks down at your lips. "do we?"

you nod. "we do."

"but i really want to hate fuck you right now."

you cup his jaw; his cheek is hot from where you slapped him. "you hate me? it doesn't seem like it right now."

patrick's mouth ghosts over your ear. "hate's a strong word. but yeah--" he pulls your hair to expose your throat to him, pressing a firm kiss there. "i hate you." he holds your ass and grinds you on his cock. "i hate how you think you know me." you hold back a whimper. "i hate how you think you're smarter than me." patrick grabs your hand, placing it on his dick. "and i hate how much you fucking turn me on."

"i'll fuck you--" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "if you can tell me what-" you grab your study guide. "what three causes of action are in tort law. " you read the first testable concept you can find. "but if you don't get all of it right--then i leave."

patrick thinks. he knows this--maybe. but even then, it's hard to think when you're moving back and forth, your warm cunt stroking against his cock. his eyes are glued to your lips and he clears his throat.

"fuck--jesus--" he runs a hand through his hair. "one is ne-negligence."

you nod and untie his pajama pants. "two more." you whisper in his ear. you've never seen him so pathetic and submissive.

he knows these. but now your fucking hand is in his pants, palming him.

his head falls back and he mewls.

you pull him back up. "two. more."

"fuck--uh--intentional. intentional torts--"

"what's an example of one?"

"that wasn't the fucking deal--jesus christ." he watches you spit in your hand.

"tell me an example."

"battery."

you yank his boxers down and stroke him in your hand. a carnal groan escapes him and you clamp your hand over his mouth.

he pulls your wrist away. "one more?"

"one more."

"strict liability."

patrick's demeanor changes as you tell him he's right. he pins your arms behind your back and pushes your face into the couch cushions, pulling your panties down your legs.

you feel his cock line up with your entrance and you're so fucking wet for him, so desperate. but he stalls as his head pushes inside, just the tip.

"patrick--fuck--" you look back at him; he feels your pulse quickening in your wrists.

then he bends down to whisper in your ear.

"i'll fuck you if you tell me the legal difference between motive and intent."

you can feel the fucking smirk against your cheek.

"i fucking hate you."

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 04. the world of the elite

THERE WERE ABOUT THREE THINGS GOING ON IN JAY PARK'S HEAD WHEN KIM SUNOO CAME TO PICK HIM UP.

The first was the chilling realization that he was actually going to a Yale party. He hadn't been to a party in over a year (save for Jungwon's birthday party where they had to call the fire department when Jake almost burned the kitchen down), so Jay wasn't expecting to end up at this scene again in his new, fake school. (Could he even call this fake if he was actually earning a degree while his tuition was paid for? He could hardly tell what was real and what was fabricated anymore.)

Secondly, was it really wise for him to get close to his target like this? He hadn't dealt with assignments where he had to follow people around, so this was all rather new to him. He realized, however, that he managed to befriend you, his mission could get a lot more complicated.

Third—he had no idea how to talk to rich people.

There were times when Jay had to entertain particularly wealthy guests when his parents brought coworkers home. But it was so excruciating even then because wow, how shallow could someone get? The depths of his conversations with all the rich people he had met were not promising at all, so he didn't have much hope for his social battery tonight.

But Jay was probably on par with some of them now, so he had to adjust to this new lifestyle. There was no way he could lie about his upbringing, though, so he framed a story of him having a rich aunt that was over-the-moon when he got into Yale.

Moreover, he was so confused as to why Shin Yuna approached him. It wasn't like he looked well-off with his clothes that he thrifted years ago. Jay couldn't tell if Yuna was just being nice, or if she had other intentions that he was supposed to be concerned about.

"Whoa, nice jacket," Sunoo complimented once he let his eyes sweep Jay's outfit. "You'll be lucky if Yuna lets you out of her sight."

His eyes grew wide. "Is she expecting me to be by her side the whole time?"

"Probably. You still have time to back out, if you want."

He was conflicted. This was the perfect opportunity for him to get close to the people around you and get some information out of whoever was the most drunk there; at the same time, if Yuna was going to keep her perfectly-manicured claws on his shoulders the whole time, this whole night would be counterproductive.

In the end, Jay decided to go. He figured that if worst came to worst, he would just find the right time to ask Yuna some questions about you.

"Is Heeseung's place close?" Jay asked. The truth was that he already looked up all possible routes to the location when Sunoo sent him the address earlier; he just needed to ask as a formality.

"Down the block here," Sunoo replied. "His dad bought him an entire penthouse. Isn't that sick?"

He fought down a bitter remark and said, "Man, that must be nice. What do his parents do? You said Sunghoon's dad owns Park Pharmaceuticals, right?"

"Yeah, and his older brother, Sungjin, is taking over the company. And Heeseung's dad is a hedge fund owner," Sunoo answered. "They only made it big recently, like four or five years ago. I remember Heeseung used to be way different back in freshman year. Now he's more... subdued. I guess he didn't know how to handle being rich back then."

Jay could see the flashing of blue and purple lights from the windows of the penthouse down the street. He carefully watched the two figures on the terrace talking by the railing. At first, it seemed as if they were just talking normally. As he got closer, though, Jay realized from the faint sounds he picked up that they were, in fact, arguing.

It was you.

Jay had been looking at pictures of you all week, but seeing you up on the terrace was different. It seemed to just sink in that what he was doing was real, and seeing you in the flesh was all he needed for cold reality to seep into his veins like poison.

The man next to you must have been Park Sunghoon. Even from how high up the two were, Jay could tell that the man next to you exuded an overwhelming presence.

But he wondered what they were arguing over.

"C'mon," Sunoo said grimly, clearly having taken notice of the commotion above, "it's just up these stairs."

Jay felt his stomach sink deeper and deeper with each step he took. When they reached Heeseung's door, there was a bouncer guarding the entrance—probably some freshman Heeseung paid to keep watch. Jay stopped in his tracks, wondering if he was even allowed in since he had never met Heeseung, but his friend simply opened the door and walked right in, as if his arrival was expected, and the bouncer paid no mind. (Perhaps it was expected? Jay was starting to believe all these people had history that he didn't even understand the extent of.)

"Jay!" came a shrill cry from across the room. Jay turned to see Shin Yuna all but tackle him, draping her arms across his shoulders. He could smell the alcohol on her breath already. "I'm glad you made it."

"Thanks for the invite," Jay replied, gently prying Yuna's hands off of him, which she allowed him to do but grabbed his hand again right after.

Jay sent Sunoo a help me sort of look, but his friend seemed to greatly misunderstand the message he was sending across. Sunoo gave him a sideways grin and a thumbs-up before signaling that he was going to catch up with some friends in the kitchen.

Great.

"Come on," Yuna slurred, dragging Jay over to a sectional couch in the corner. "I'll introduce you to my friends."

He recognized some of the faces while he was looking into you—Karina Yoo, whose mother owned a private jet company; Choi Yeonjun, who landed a few minor movie roles with the help of his Golden Globe award-winning mother; Giselle Uchinaga, whose father was an investment banker and mother owned a nightclub; Kim Chaewon, whose mother revolutionized stem cell research; and then there was Lee Heeseung in the corner, who had his arms folded across his chest as he sized Jay up.

From what he gathered, this was most (or all) of the people in your inner circle. Heeseung and Sunghoon appeared to be more than that to you, though; childhood friends had a bond more special than the rest, he supposed.

Jay then wondered how Heeseung felt about his two childhood friends dating and now arguing on the balcony.

"Guys," Yuna started with a grin, motioning to Jay with a dramatic flair of her hands, "this is Jay, the new transfer student."

"Hey." Jay waved to the group, his mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry.

His greeting was returned by a few tight smiles from the rest and a chorus of unenthusiastic words of acknowledgment that he didn't feel too great about. Maybe he had to give up on his chance of entering your circle.

"Don't mind them," Yuna whispered to him as she pulled him over to sit on the couch with her. They were seated exactly across from Heeseung, whose stare made Jay feel even more uncomfortable. "They're all in a bad mood 'cause Y/N and Sunghoon got in a fight before you came. God, why do they always kill the vibe?" She was talking awfully loud, causing Karina and Giselle to shoot her warning glares. Jay had a sinking feeling that she was making the situation worse if she kept opening her mouth. "Seriously, I mean, we're here to party!"

Not that Jay was particularly avoidant with physical touch, but being touched and fawned about in front of everyone was slightly unnerving, especially when he didn't know Yuna all that well. Nearly half her body weight was on top of him, and Jay was pretty sure she would end up sitting fully on his lap if she took another shot.

"Are you... drunk?" he asked her warily.

She gave him a strange look before giggling. "Uh, yeah? Did you want a drink, too?"

"No, just—"

"Hey, so you've really never seen me online before?" she asked, tilting her head in a way that Jay had to admit would've been rather cute if he wasn't so overwhelmed and put-off by everything else. "I'm, like, TikTok famous."

"Oh, that's nice," he replied, sort of distracted as he tried to catch a glimpse of you out on the terrace. He saw a flash of your glittering silver romper, but then your boyfriend stepped in front of you again.

"Transfer student," Heeseung called out. He had his elbows on his knees, but once Jay looked at him, he started to stand up. "Let's get you a drink since the rest of them are being miserable."

Jay assumed it was a joke, but only he (and probably Heeseung) seemed to think so. Karina let out a sound that sounded partly like a laugh and partly like a scoff.

"Way to make it awkward, Heeseung," she sneered.

"He's the one who probably feels so awkward with you all being so quiet," Heeseung said, patting Jay firmly on the shoulder to get him to stand up. Jay had to gently peel Yuna off of him before he got up to follow Heeseung. "We'll be back."

While Heeseung and him were making their way past groups of students packed together, Jay couldn't figure out what the hell to say to him. When he first walked in, the look in Heeseung's eyes made him think he was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but now he was just lost.

"I haven't heard of you before," Heeseung said once they reached a long table with bottles of alcohol strewn about.

"I didn't expect you to. Today's my first day, anyway."

There was a bartender on the other side of the room, but Jay figured that Heeseung brought him here for a private conversation. Without even asking Jay about his preference, he let his hand glide over the handles before he picked out a bottle of tequila. Jay wasn't much of a drinker but he let Heeseung pour him a shot.

"What do your parents do?"

Jay couldn't stop himself from barking out a laugh, shaking his head fervently. "Oh, no, they're"—he shook his head again—"they're no one."

"They can't be 'no one' if they managed to get their son into Yale."

"They didn't get me into Yale."

"They still raised you, didn't they?" Heeseung raised a brow. "My mom's a preschool teacher, and my dad was unemployed up until my sophomore year of high school. Not the professions you expected, huh?"

Jay's brows raised in pleasant surprise. Here he thought that Heeseung was judging him, but maybe it was the exact opposite. He really didn't expect a sincere response from someone like him, but perhaps he just misjudged the junior.

"My mom's an office worker, and my dad used to be a firefighter before he got into an accident," Jay answered. "Now he has a corporate job."

"And you're..."

"I'm what?"

"What're you trying to be in the world?"

Jay took the plastic shot glass that Heeseung handed out to him. Before downing it in one go, he answered, "Someone."

Heeseung laughed. "At least you have more of a story than most of the people in this room." He shot one of the cluster of students a sideways glance and said, "Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if most of the people here bought their way into Yale."

Jay swallowed hard. He couldn't say anything when he was technically one of those people, too. All his life, he slogged harder than anyone else for a place in the world. He worked at restaurants illegally since he was thirteen, studied tirelessly to get free rides to universities, and gave up a social life just to balance multiple jobs to get bills paid. It felt strange to be one of the people who didn't have to lift a finger for extraordinary opportunities.

For a moment, he wondered if he would get in if he tried applying on his own. There was no use in pondering, though; this was all simply for the assignment—nothing more, nothing less.

"You made it here on your own, didn't you?" Jay asked with a flickering, newfound respect for Lee Heeseung.

"I didn't even think I'd be able to pay for college when I was in high school," he answered. "Of course I needed to work hard. Getting a full ride into an Ivy League isn't something you get by fucking around. Even though Hoon and Y/N were set their whole lives... I couldn't just be the only one who didn't make it in."

Jay wondered why Heeseung was telling him, a total stranger, all of this. He didn't bring it up, though, in case the question sobered him up to the point of not revealing any further information.

But he had to ask, "So why'd you drag me out here for a drink?"

It was a fair question. There were bottles of alcohol on the table next to the sectional couch. If Heeseung really wanted to just pour him a drink, he could've done so then and there.

"Thought I'd save you from Yuna," he said. "She gets a little messy when she's drunk."

"Oh." Jay almost shuddered at the thought of what could've happened if he was still sitting on the couch.

"Sorry. Are you interested in her?"

Jay's eyes grew as wide as saucers as he shook his head firmly. "N-not at all. I just met her today."

The alcohol started coursing through his blood, making his limbs feel less like muscle and more like jelly. Yet, he strangely felt more comfortable in his body.

"Good." Heeseung leaned against the table and crossed his arms again. "I would've felt bad for you if you were actually into her. She definitely thinks this'll make me jealous somehow." He suddenly stiffened up. "Don't mention this to the others, though. I don't think Y/N would be happy if she found out."

He arched a brow at Heeseung. So you didn't know about your own friend's feelings toward your childhood friend? Even though you were in a relationship yourself? Interesting.

But even more interesting because Jay swore he saw pictures of Heeseung and Chaewon together on his Instagram. Pictures that seemed to imply that they were a couple. Their little inner circle seemed to be more convoluted than Jay initially thought.

"Haven't even met her," he told Heeseung. "I'm not the kind of person to spread people's secrets like that."

Unless I'm paid to do so, he thought bitterly.

Heeseung smiled slyly, and Jay wasn't sure if it was one of friendship or as if he had just heard an enticing business proposal. "I hope my feeling about you is right." After grabbing the handle of Clase Azul on the table, he added, "Let's go back before they accuse me of scaring you off."

Jay followed after him, wondering if he had just accidentally gotten himself in Heeseung's good graces, or if he just made a grave mistake.

Jay decided to ask, "Hey, by the way, do you know about the Order of Kryptos?"

Heeseung stopped in his tracks immediately, spinning around so fast that Jay nearly stumbled over his feet.

"What about it?"

"Well, I just—I don't know—I was thinking of, uh, joining."

"You can't just join. You have to be invited." Despite the shame that burned under Jay's skin for sounding like an idiot in front of the junior, Heeseung's eyes twinkled. "But... I know someone you could talk to if you wanna get your foot in the door."

"You do?"

"This isn't like a frat where you have to rush. See, all these people here just target members of the current class and suck up to them until they get tapped. For example, Hoon's practically guaranteed a tap since his brother's in the Order right now."

"Then do you think I even have a chance?"

Heeseung shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. There's only fifteen seats, so it all depends on how much you impress them." He grabbed Jay by the shoulder and pointed out one of the seniors laughing with a couple other boys in the kitchen. "That's Jeong Jaehyun. He's probably the chillest in the Order—doesn't really give a fuck about prestige and background, or whatever. I'd talk to him when you get the chance."

Jay, wildly amazed with how big of a help Heeseung was being, returned the gesture by patting him on the back firmly. "Thanks, man."

"No worries. You should work fast, though. They start giving up their seats next semester."

Next semester. Jay was certain he could get on someone's good side by then.

This whole thing was rather frustrating for him, though. All Jay wanted to do was lay low and carry out his assignment properly, but to do so he needed to get close to you and your friends somehow. Impressing you meant impressing a senior to get into the Order. There seemed to be far too many hurdles he needed to cross just to uncover some dirt on you.

When he and Heeseung returned to the sectional couch, everyone seemed a smidge more lively. Yeonjun waved Jay over to introduce himself properly, claiming that he couldn't say anything earlier because Yuna was hogging all the attention. Yuna, on the other hand, seemed to have already blacked out on the couch, but none of her friends were exactly paying much attention to her. Jay wondered if this was a frequent occurence with her.

While Jay was in the middle of telling Yeonjun and Giselle about the school he transferred from, you came out from the terrace with Sunghoon, but there was an icy distance between you two.

Jay had spent the past week looking at pictures of you every single night. Almost every picture you had on your Instagram was burned into his brain.

But seeing you up close in the flesh was almost earth-shattering. All the details your camera couldn't capture were like the missing pieces that made you glow even brighter. Jay was almost amazed that Park Sunghoon could even fight with you when you looked like this.

"Y/N?" Karina called, but you were crossing the room in the direction of the bathroom. She threw a nasty glare at Sunghoon, who sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

Giselle raised a brow. "You're gonna let your girlfriend walk away?"

"She needs space," Sunghoon answered curtly.

"Oh, I bet she gets plenty of that from you."

"Watch your mouth, Giselle."

Jay wasn't sure if Heeseung was making the right decision when he stood up and offered, "Hoon, chill. I'll go check on her."

Chaewon was quick to grab her boyfriend's hand, frowning as she said, "I think one of the girls should."

Heeseung pulled his hand away, and Jay noticed the crumbling look in Chaewon's eyes before he pretended to be more interested in a loose thread in the couch. He felt bad for her; she was practically being humiliated in front of everyone else.

"I'm the host," Heeseung replied. "I should check on her."

Karina shot Yeonjun and Giselle a withering look. "Our Uber's almost here. I don't think she wants to go home with"—she motioned to Sunghoon with a jut of her chin—"you know."

"I'll ask Ryujin to take her home, but we should probably tell her before we leave," Yeonjun said. He lowered his voice to add, "Yuna's wasted. You know Heeseung's gonna get pissed if she crashes here."

Giselle snorted. "That's probably what she wants."

Jay looked down at his lap. So everyone was aware of Yuna's semi-hidden feelings toward Heeseung except you? Why was it a secret from you, anyway? This friend group—if Jay could even call them that—was messier than he had anticipated.

Jay, who was seated in the middle of the trio, started to feel rather awkward. Surely, they must have known he could hear everything they were saying.

"Uh," he started because he was starting to feel like he was obligated to chime in, "I can call an Uber for your friend, if she needs one."

"Aw, Jay, you're too sweet," Giselle cooed, but then her face of adoration turned completely serious. "But you're a man. We don't trust you."

"That... that's fair."

"Oh, but he's Sunoo's friend," Yeonjun added. "Sunoo would get her home safely."

"Just ask Sunoo or Ryujin—whoever's still here," Giselle said.

Karina, who was on her phone for a majority of the conversation, spoke up to confirm, "Yeah, their locations are still here. I'll text them to make sure Y/N's taken care of." She stood up. "Let's just get going and check up on her later in the group chat."

"God, how are we gonna drag Yuna out of here?" Giselle whined. She gently maneuvered the unconscious girl to make it easier for them to lift her up. "Yeonjun, you get her other arm."

After much effort, they were finally able to get Yuna barely stumbling forward as her arms were around their shoudlers. They said their goodbyes to Jay and Chaewon, but Sunghoon only got one from Yeonjun.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and moved to sit next to Jay. Chaewon was completely sidelined at this point as she picked at her nails and waited for Heeseung to come back.

"Sorry for that mess," Sunghoon said. "I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Park Sunghoon."

"Jay," he greeted. "Nice to meet you. Heeseung told me a bit about you."

"Oh, really?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I hope it wasn't too awkward."

Jay grinned. "All good things. Don't worry."

"Great, uh..." He fumbled for a moment, reaching into his pockets and then handing Jay a pink iPhone. "Do you think you could hand this to my girlfriend? She should be somewhere in the house."

Although Jay took the phone from him, he grimaced. He didn't even know you, and he felt bad already. Your own boyfriend was sending a stranger to give you something when he could very well do it by himself?

And why did he have your phone in the first place? Jay wondered if Sunghoon had taken it from you during the argument, and the very idea made him feel cold.

"I really think you should give it to her."

His small smile stretched into an awkward grin. "I don't think she wants to see my face right now."

"Oh... sure—will do."

This time when Jay crossed the room and pushed through the packs of students, it felt slightly more intimidating. He felt like a lone fish amongst schools of them, and the few shots he took had definitely worn off by now. Not to mention the recent turn of events were incredibly sobering.

Heeseung's penthouse was nice. Nothing he could ever dream of affording before his anonymous client sent him more money than he would've ever made in his life.

When Jay stepped into the narrow hallway that led to the bathroom, he could hear Heeseung's gentle voice echoing.

"—talk to me, please," he pleaded. "I don't know what Sunghoon said to you, but—"

"Heeseung, just leave me alone." Your own faltering voice was treading on desperation. "You don't have to be here to comfort me. You're not my boyfriend."

And then it grew quiet. Jay was afraid that he was about to walk in on an uncomfortable situation.

Seconds later, the door opened and Heeseung was stony-faced, walking past Jay without even noticing he was there. You didn't even close the door after he left, so Jay inched closer to make sure nothing bad happened to you.

There you were, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and crying into your hands. There was an odd, disconnected feeling in Jay's chest. He had seen so many pictures and posts of you looking like you were having the time of your life, but the sight before him caused all of that to come crashing down, catching on fire.

Back outside, looking up at the terrace, you were so high above him, as if he would never reach you. Now, you were shattering to pieces before him, leaving broken shards scattered around you that Jay was hesitant to tread on.

Once you took notice of his presence, your head lifted up slowly, and Jay really felt bad for you now. Streaks of mascara were under your eyes and your red lipstick was smudged.

"Can I help you?" you asked flatly, sniffling every now and then even as you tried to act like you hadn't been caught crying.

Jay simply held your phone out, and you grabbed it from him once you recognized it was yours.

"How'd you—"

"Your boyfriend told me to bring it to you," he answered, and your eyes welled up with tears again. Jay sighed as you started breaking down in front of him, but he really wasn't all that annoyed as he sounded. He grabbed a tissue from the box on top of the toilet and ran it under water for a brief second. "Here."

Jay leaned down in front of you and blotted the tissue gently under your eyes, wiping off the residue of your mascara that stained your skin. You tried to resist his gesture at first, but when you realized what he was doing, you relaxed. If his eyes weren't tricking him, maybe you were even slightly embarrassed?

Then, he moved to your lips, using the other side of the tissue to carefully dab at where your lipstick was smudged. Jay tried especially hard not to stare at the curve of your lips, wondering what dark secret you could possibly be hiding behind the corners of your mouth. After he was done, he tossed the tissue aside and stood up.

"Thanks," you murmured.

"No problem," he said, backing up to the doorway. "You should probably keep the door closed if you need some alone time, by the way."

But one look at your expression, and he could tell that you were hoping that someone else would come looking for you.

"Y-yeah," you stammered out, standing up to close it yourself.

"Also," he continued, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Just walk away, Jay. This is none of your business. Just turn around and keep walking. "Your friends are worried about you, so..."

There's people out there who wouldn't make you cry like this.

He couldn't get the rest of the words out. Who was he to speak on a relationship he had only seen for a brief moment, anyway?

Before Jay could turn on his heel, you called out, "Wait! What was your name again?"

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Jay Park. I just transferred here."

"Jay... oh, the transfer student." You said his name so gently that it was almost like you were handling glass. Then, he saw the first smile on your face tonight, and oh, he had never seen someone smile so bright. "I'm Y/N. See you around."

After you closed the door and Jay had headed back to where everyone else was, the loud, booming music grounding him back into reality, his heart sank with the realization that he had already been thrown into a world that he wasn't sure he liked very much.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @hooniesuniverse @zerasari @enhalov @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @en-happiness @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @enhypens-baby @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @isawritesss @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon

[grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks]

There were a lot of instances, really, that could be considered their "first kiss." A look at some moments that might, depending on your perspective, count as Jon and Martin's first kiss. For the Jonmartin week day 1 prompt "First Kiss" - Updates one chapter a day, every day of Jonmartin Week.

For the last day of @jonmartinweek week, I'm posting what I intended to be the last chapter of the fic I wrote for the day 1 prompt, "First Kiss." However, someone in the comments of chapter 8 got me thinking about two additional chapters I could add to the end, if I wanted to turn this epilogue into an interlude. Please let me know (either here or on AO3) if you'd be interested in me writing two more chpaters exploring the end of the series, and what comes after. In the meantime, enjoy this quiet safehouse moment, and something that is definitely not Jon and Martin's first kiss.

They kissed quite a bit at the safehouse. Jon thought they had earned that right.

Cups of tea were always handed over with a kiss on the forehead. Jon lit a fire in the hearth and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. When the morning fog rolled in and Martin suddenly froze, eyes glazed over with bitter memory, Jon took his hand and pressed a kiss to each of his knuckles, murmuring soft, it’s alright ’s and stay with me’ s, and when Jon woke up from a nightmare with tears in his eyes and no breath in his lungs, Martin tugged him close, kissed the back of his neck, and told him it was just a dream.

They orbited each other like stranded satellites, never drifting far, always drawn back by the gravitational pull between them. Jon knew it wasn’t sustainable, this anxious, clinging codependency, but neither one of them was ready for anything else right now. That would have to come with time.

Jon stood up from where he’d been knelt in front of the hearth, tending the fire, and wiped the dust from his aching knees. Martin looked up from his knitting and stretched his arms out to Jon in obvious invitation. Jon did as he was bid, sinking into the cushions beside Martin and letting himself be pulled close until he was resting on Martin’s chest.

“How was your day, dear?”

Jon laughed. “You were here for most of it.” He cast his mind back, trying to think of something over which they could make conversation. “I’m coming around on this book,” he said, gesturing to the spy novel that was currently resting on the end table. “I think it might actually be a brilliant work of satire.”

“Oh? So you don’t think it’s ‘trite and overwritten, with clear overtones of misogyny’ anymore?”

“Oh, no, it definitely is,” Jon said. He sat up and stretched himself across the couch to grab the worn, cracked paperback. “Listen to this.” He flipped to the page he’d dogeared earlier, when Martin was in the shower and Jon had been buzzing with the urge to subject him to the passage. “Lindsey didn’t bother with a bra; she just slipped an old Yale tee shirt over her ample chest and bounced to the door. She regretted that decision a moment later when she saw the shredded, 6’4” bulk of Jack Masterson – That’s the protagonist’s name, Jack Masterson – on her doorstep. Her breasts perked up at the sight of him, and she was certain he could see her nipples standing at attention through the thin cotton of her shirt.”

“That’s– awful!” Martin exclaimed through wheezing laughter. “That can’t be real!”

“My point exactly!” Jon said. “It has to be a work of incisive self-parody, because no real human man could ever write that and expect it to be taken seriously.”

He settled back against Martin’s chest and rode the aftershocks of another wave of laughter. “You can borrow it if you like,” he offered. “I’m nearly finished.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

They laughed again, more softly, then fell into a comfortable silence. The fire popped and crackled beside them, and a log fell against the grate with a sharp crack. Outside the window, the crickets began to chirp. The lamplight and the fire cast a warm golden glow over the room, gilding the overstuffed armchair, the television set that didn’t get any channels, the axe that Martin used to chop firewood and that they both tried not to think of any other uses Daisy might have had for.

“It still feels like a dream,” Martin murmured eventually.

Jon twisted around so that he could look him in the eye while they spoke. “What does?”

“This? You? All of it,” Martin said. The reflection of the lamplight had flecked his eyes with gold as he stared at Jon in affectionate disbelief. “I’m… I’m glad we get to have this,” he admitted. “Even if Jonah kicks down the door tomorrow, drags us back to the Panopticon, plucks out our eyes – whatever he’s planning – we’ll always have had this. Nothing can change that.”

There were a thousand things Jon could have said to that, but in that moment, all of them felt insufficient, so instead he bowed his head and lowered his lips to Martin’s.

It wasn’t their first kiss, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was soft and sweet and languid. They weren’t in any hurry, anymore. After a moment, Jon pulled back and simply stared down at Martin, sprawled beneath him. His eyes had slipped closed and his lips were parted and his cheeks were growing pink. It might have been the most beautiful sight Jon had ever seen. When he opened his eyes, he looked dazed, and more than a little dazzled. Jon could sympathize.

“I love you,” Martin whispered, and that was a first.

“I love you, too,” Jon replied in a breathless rush. “God, Martin, I–” Once again, his words failed him, so he bent down for one more kiss. It seemed to get the message across.

[terrainofheartfelt]

Dair + 9

Dair + 9…in public.

I wrote this as a sequel to this flash fiction I wrote for the last time I did a tumblr prompts meme. what can I say, I was inspired. and I could have written a wayyyyyy better breakup arc than the show. there I said it.

it got long (typical) so continue reading the whole bit under the cut <3

The party is already in full swing by the time Dan and his group get there. The subway would have been faster, but someone insisted that the lowest she would stoop to get to Bushwick was a cab. 

“Why did we agree to this again?” Dan asks out of the side of his mouth. 

“Not like she gave us much of a choice,” Vanessa mutters back. “Maybe we can get her to do something really low brow, like drink PBR or sing karaoke.”

Dan snorts, watching as the third member of their reluctant trio stomps into the crowd, clad in the tunic and pleather leggings Vanessa loaned her. 

A lot has happened since Dorota and Vanya’s wedding: Serena skipped town and came back with her dad, Eric hasn’t spoken to Serena since she came back with her dad (or their dad, but only in the biological sense). Vanessa got into Tisch, Dan didn’t. They evaluated their relationship at the three-month mark and decided that it just wasn’t working.

And, strangest of all, in the wake of her breakup—and Dan decking her ex across the face in public—Blair has seemingly attached herself to Dan and Vanessa and NYU as a whole, like she’s using the whole of Greenwich Village as a shield against the reach of Chuck Bass. 

“Hey, by the way,” Vanessa adds under her breath, “Willa is probably gonna make a move on you tonight.”

Dan blinks slowly, unsure how to answer. Breaking up was the right choice, he knows that. He spent most of his time as Vanessa’s boyfriend missing his best friend, Vanessa. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel weird about how she’s been pushing him into the path of other girls ever since. Like he’s a loose end she needs to square away before she starts at Tisch. 

“I’ll try to stick to a minimum six feet distance then.”

“Better make it ten,” Vanessa advises as they approach the bar, “she seemed pretty determined.”

Dan inwardly cringes, then orders two shots of tequila. Tequila and Vanessa have been somewhat of a dangerous combination for him these past six months, but if he’s going to endure the awkward ordeal this party is turning out to be, he cannot be sober for it. 

Vanessa’s pulled into a conversation with other Tisch people soon after, and Dan lets her go and tries not to feel too bitter about it. 

He’d really wanted it, but honestly, he can’t really explain why. He guesses that if he had to, then he’d have to admit it was because if he could break into the prestige of the Tisch name, it would make losing out on Yale sting a little less. Which is just fucking embarrassing—that was a year ago. What is it with Dan’s inability to move on anyway?

“Humphrey,” Waldorf greets him with a cursory nod, “holding the wall up all by yourself?”

He tips his beer bottle towards her. “Tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

She gives him a withering look. Fair, not his best material. 

“This has been a bust so far,” Waldorf declares, unprompted, slumping against the wall next to him. “The so-called art here is terrible, and there isn’t a single guy in this room I would even think about kissing.”

At a loss for how to reply, Dan just asks, “What?”

Waldorf heaves out a sigh. “To get around Chuck’s fatwa? That was the whole point of this exercise, Humphrey!”

He shakes his head, like Waldorf’s obstinance is something that’s possible to shake off. “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“Whatever,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “The point is, no matter what I do, or where I go, he’s just –” she gestures wildly, “there.”

Dan follows the direction of her wave, and nearly spits out his drink when he sees Chuck Bass lurking in the corner. There could only be one reason for Chuck to come to Bushwick, and it’s certainly not to see Willa Weinstein’s performance art on corporate coffee chains.

“That’s…” he trails off, searching for an apt descriptor, “fucked up.”

Waldorf snorts at his eloquence, hands tightening around her elbows. “Yeah. It just – makes it impossible to move on. Him being around all the time.”

Dan looks at her carefully, holding herself in that defeated-yet-determined way she had been at Dorota and Vanya’s game night, and feels that same impulse to reach out, to try and make it better somehow, even though he hasn’t a fucking clue where to start. 

“It’s hard having an ex that’s always around,” he offers, eyes finding Vanessa in the crowd, laughing with the theatrical writing majors they met at the cabaret. “It’s not even that you want them back, you just…could do without your history popping out around any corner.” 

Blair looks at him curiously, her hard protective gaze softening into something more contemplative. Dan gets a sudden flash of deja vu, to a different year, a different heartbreak, a different warehouse wall. 

“For what it’s worth, Blair, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes cast down at the floor, at her boots that are disproportionately expensive to the rest of her outfit. She hasn’t said any more about why she and Chuck broke up, but Dan’s seen enough to know that it must have been really bad. 

“And – you know –” he stammers, “if there’s anything I can do –”

Blair’s eyes shoot back up, questioning. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Yes. Yes that would do it,” she continues, as if that explains anything. “Come on, Humphrey, hop to.”

“I…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to write a sonnet or whatever it is you do. This is just a favor.”

He arches an eyebrow. “A favor would imply that we’re friends. Are we?”

She blinks at him, nonplussed. “Does it matter?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t really care about the answer, it’s just that it’s easier to debate Blair on semantics. It’s a dynamic that makes sense to him. 

“Fine,” Blair huffs, “if it helps you sleep at night, then yes.” She pushes away from the wall, turning to face him. “So?”

Dan blinks. “Like – now?”

“That would be the idea, yes.”

“Okay,” Dan lets out a breath, and turns to face her, eyes dropping to her lips. She is pretty—it’s not like he’s never noticed—and there’s something about seeing her outside her typical Edith Head dress code that heightens it, or shines a light on her from a different angle. Or maybe he’s just drunk. 

He’s apparently stalled too long, because Blair mutters. “Oh, for crying out loud, Humphrey,” and yanks him in by the collar. 

A shock runs through him, then another, then another. First from: oh, she’s kissing him now, then from: oh, he’s kissing Blair Waldorf, then finally: this is actually a really good kiss. 

He opens his mouth on instinct, her lips moving with his. She tastes like cheap booze and expensive lip gloss, like every contradiction and complexity that makes his life interesting, that’s ever made him want to pick up a pen or sit at a keyboard. 

They break away to breathe at the same time, inhaling in tandem. It’s hard to tell in this lighting, but Dan’s sure Blair’s face is ruddier than when he was last looking at her. 

“Thank you,” she says bluntly, stunned.

“You’re welcome,” Dan automatically replies, blinking dumbly as Blair turns tail and disappears into the party. 

He’s going to need another drink. 

[emmafallsinlove]

I used to think that the point where something got broken between Rory and Jess was when Rory never wrote to him and Jess decided to move on- like that was the point when they started to hold back, started to distrust each other... And I still think it WAS in a lot of ways, especially for Jess, but I'm starting to think that for Rory it was missing her mom's graduation. Because that was the point where she started feeling like her feelings for Jess were something she couldn't control. And that was TERRIFYING! And now people were getting hurt! Her MOM was getting hurt! And Rory had that whole meltdown desperately trying to deny why she would do something like this. But then, as soon as Jess showed up again, she lost control of herself AGAIN. Like, IMMEDIATELY. And I think that really, really scared Rory and she started seeing Jess as someone she needed to keep at a distance (even when she also wanted that distance erased).

So, now I'm wondering... would the trajectory of their relationship have been any different if Rory hadn't gotten on the wrong bus that day? If she'd made it to the graduation on time, with the Go-Go's record Jess helped her to find (being a reason for her mother's happiness instead of a reason for her pain)? If her obsession with Jess hadn't been a thing that hurt her mom, would she have had more positive feelings about it? Jess seemed ready to go "all-in" when he first came back (he MOVED BACK! For HER! What a huge thing that is?!), but grew bitter over the summer. But what if Rory had been "all-in" too? Would their relationship have gone better if both of them felt like they could trust that the other REALLY CARED?

i put this ask kind of on "hold" for a lot of reasons, and the most important one is because i think you are 100% right, but i think it's started even before - when rory got hurt and jess left to nyc without saying goodbye to her, i think something of her just broke there, and no one believed her it isn't jess's fault, and that she is responsible to what happened exactly as he is. she wanted him to keep driving, she is the reason they even got into this car accident in the first place (because if she wouldn't have said 'turn right', jess would've drive back to luke's, they would've studied a bit more & maybe meet tomorrow morning at luke's before she goes to school). instead, her arm got broken and he left without saying goodbye, and on the day her mother graduation's, she went to see jess, got stuck on a bus in nyc and missed her mom's graduation completely and now she has to suffer the consequences of all of it. because the moment jess is back, she is kissing him behind dean's back! and a few days (or weeks, you can't really tell time between episodes lol) she cried to her mom that she loves dean, that she will always gonna love dean, she literally punished herself and felt to awful because she hurt her mom and other people too! and see how quickly rory stop kissing jess (she kissed him first!), demand him not to say anything (he kept that promise!!! he didn't say ANYTHING!) and welcomed him home. like???? we have so many things we need to discuss here but kissing jess was what made her go to washington because she couldn't deal with spending an entire summer around him (and being with dean....) and she couldn't tell her mom that because as we saw in lorelai's reaction in 3.01 (and rightfully so) she took dean's side. people are keep getting hurt for her love for jess, and maybe she feels like she needs to keep her distance from him, until they are together and now it's okay because now she is the one who gets her heart broken and not everyone else around her. and it's completely heartbreaking but like.... this is so so important because in s4 she is very much heartbroken by jess while everyone seemed to have moved on from being hurt by him - her mom isn't worrying about them being together, and in the yale vs harvard game she is admits to emily she is hoping he'd gone forever and rory wouldn't hear from him again, then he showed up again in rory's life twice and she is getting hurt by him again what leads her in a way to have sex with dean and then she doesn't hears for him for over a year but in this point it doesn't matter because she is dating logan! and she loves logan! and jess is nowhere to be found, to hurt her again! or make other's people get hurt by her because her love for him!

and i think, if rory wouldn't have said 'turn right', or even if she would've and still got her arm broken and then made it back in time to her mother graduation, i do believe things could've went very different! like maybe rory wouldn't even going to washingtion for the entire summer, maybe she & jess could've sorted things out and she would've breaking up with dean and start dating jess way earlier and then her love for jess wasn't that scary terrifying thing that makes people around her getting hurt, it would've been that thing that heals her & the people around her because think of the endless opportunities lorelai and jess could've had getting alone over the summer! and jess and lane's friendship! all this little things would've change the way the town sees jess but more importantly the way rory sees her relationship with jess!!

[beardedmrbean]

The surge of open hatred of Jews on college campuses is unprecedented in modern American life. We saw it outside universities in the 1930s, when it was openly preached by Detroit’s Father Coughlin and published by Henry Ford. We saw it from the KKK during the civil rights revolution of the 1950s and 1960s. The Klan targeted Jews, as a marginal group, as allies of black equality, and as vehicles to build solidarity in their target audience: poor, angry, Christian whites.

At universities we saw a different kind of prejudice. That bigotry was exemplified by quiet restrictions on Jewish students and faculty, referred to as “Gentleman’s Agreements”. Those agreements excluded Jews from fraternities and sororities at most schools. Harvard began the practise and stated their goal openly, while others followed in secret. This practice changed only when it was prohibited by civil rights laws.

These practices were obviously prejudiced, but they were a far cry from the open hatred, intimidation, and speech suppression we now see on campus. Some of that is an old mask stripped away, some is an increase in underlying hatred, and some is a collapse of any restraints on its public expression. The old mask was emblazoned with the coda, “We don’t hate Jews. We don’t hate Israel. We just oppose Israeli policies and support Palestinian rights.”

Well, if recent demonstrations are any guide, it turns out they do hate Israel. They want to see it wiped off the map. That’s the meaning of their constant chant, “From the river to the sea.” A Palestinian state that occupies all that territory between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean would extinguish Israel. That’s their “final solution” for the Jewish state.

Chilling as that goal is, the activists don’t stop there. They extend their hatred to all Jews, and they say so openly in campus meetings and demonstrations. That is led by extremist Muslims, who are part of the dominant coalition on campus. But it is embraced by their political allies. More on that coalition in a moment.

Decent Americans know something has gone badly wrong at our universities. This wider public recognises, quite accurately, that the attacks on Jews are only the latest, most visible examples of a more pervasive problem: the rise of intolerant, illiberal ideology on the far-Left. That has always been a problem on the far-Right, but they were never major players on campus or in elite media. The Left is.

Watching these latest instances of anti-Semitic words and violent demonstrations, average Americans want to know why it is happening and what can be done to reverse the damage. Parents and alumni have still more questions. Families want to know where their children should go to college, where they will be encouraged to grow and learn, not bullied for their views or their faith. Those questions aren’t limited to Jewish families. Most parents want their children to live and learn in a safe, tolerant atmosphere. They are deeply worried, and they are right.

Their anxiety is shared by many alumni. Until now, wealthy donors have been content to turn over millions, see their names on a building or professorship, and attend cocktail parties with the university president after football games. No more. Many are saying our leading universities are not worthy of their support. They want to oust the leaders who encouraged this decline, stood silent as it grew worse, and then were surprised – and speechless – when it broke out into the open.

It won’t be easy to enact change – university leadership is self-perpetuating and campus bureaucracy is deeply entrenched. At Yale, for example, when alumni wanted a few dissonant voices on the board, the existing members changed the rules so that only they could nominate new members.

These disturbing events on campus are the bitter fruits of trends that have been developing for years. A few concerned faculty tried, in vain, to halt this ideological frenzy and moral collapse before it sank their institutions. They failed. The number of bureaucrats employed has ballooned and now approaches the number of students on campus. Over these students, they exert enormous control. 

Students themselves have contributed mightily to this illiberal, intolerant atmosphere. That culture now begins in elite high schools and has seeped down to middle schools. Surveys now show that only about half of college students support free speech. Many tell survey researchers it is perfectly fine to shout down opposing views. A non-trivial minority think it is okay to use violence against people with different views. They never answer the hard question, “who decides?” 

It is hardly surprising that Jews are the targets. That has been true historically when illiberal ideologies gain political clout and look for scapegoats. That is exactly what is happening on American campuses today. It began with hatred of Israel, damning them as “settler colonisers” rather than a people associated with that land for three millennia. It quickly metastasised to vilify anyone who supported the Jewish state and then to Jews in general.

This movement is shaped by the dominant ideology, which divides the world into oppressors and victims. The oppressors are “privileged whites,” whose only hope of redemption is to accept their guilt and support the “oppressed” and “colonised” victims. The result, which dominates campus politics, is an angry, oppositional ideology grounded in identity politics.

It is easy to speculate how this fragile and at times nonsensical coalition might break upon contact with reality. True, you occasionally see students marching with signs like “Queer = Free Palestine.” That idea, to put it mildly, is not endorsed on the ground in Palestine or any majority-Muslim state. It shouldn’t take more than a moment’s reflection to realise that those activists would return home in boxes if they marched with that sign through Gaza. But it’s far easier to signal virtue by proclaiming their alliance with the “oppressed” and assuming it is reciprocated.

This dominant ideology and the coalition that supports it have undermined what should be the most basic values at our universities: free and open inquiry and a safe environment to express them. Those are essential for real learning, the creation of new knowledge, and human flourishing. The result is worse than a gloomy environment on campus. It is a hostile one for conservative students, pro-Israel students, Evangelicals, and others who dare to depart from the approved line. 

None of this will get better on its own. It will require a concerted movement of parents, alumni, and donors. They must demand systemic changes to restore sanity, safety, and free expression on campus. It won’t be easy: but action is long overdue. 

[luxe-pauvre]

Why would we ever choose to suffer? Sometimes, as a hedonist would tell you, it’s for the sake of tangible goals. Pain can distract us from our anxieties and even help us transcend the self. Choosing to suffer can serve social goals – it can display how tough we are or serve as a cry for help. Unpleasant emotions, such as fear and sadness, are part of play and fantasy and can provide moral satisfaction. And effort and struggle and difficulty can, in the right contexts, lead to the joys of mastery and flow. But there’s more. The economist George Loewenstein gives the example of serious mountaineering. The pleasures here are not obvious, to say the least; rather, it seems to be “unrelenting misery from end to end”. Diaries and journals by climbers talk about “relentless cold (often leading to frostbite and loss of extremities, or death), exhaustion, snow-blindness, altitude sickness, sleeplessness, squalid conditions, hunger, fear…” There is constant craving for food. And there is boredom: “On a typical ascent, the vast majority of time is spent in mind-bogglingly monotonous activities – for example, being ‘weathered out’ for many hours in a small smelly tent crammed in with other climbers.” Climbers describe their experiences as lonely and alienating, spending days and weeks in bitter silence, with disagreements that don’t get smoothed over. And yet people do it, and then do it again and again, getting some satisfaction that doesn’t reduce in any real way to pleasure. Apparently, then, for at least some of us, a life well lived is more than a life of pleasure and happiness. I side with the economist Tyler Cowen, who wrote: “What’s good about an individual human life can’t be boiled down to any single value. It’s not all about beauty or all about justice or all about happiness. Pluralist theories are more plausible, postulating a variety of relevant values, including human wellbeing, justice, fairness, beauty, the artistic peaks of human achievement, the quality of mercy, and the many different and, indeed, sometimes contrasting kinds of happiness. Life is complicated.”

Paul Bloom, Hedonism is overrated - to make the best of life there must be pain, says this Yale professor

[yourlocalcryptidfriend]

All the Things I Couldn’t Say

CW: Vent. Troubled household. Academic trauma. Conditional love.

I saw a prompt titled, “Things I couldn’t say to my parents.” A small prompt, something to vent with. I decided to use it here, today.

It won’t be clean and proper as my writing usually is, but it will be emotionally-driven and raw.

Let’s begin shall we?:

Was I that hard a child to raise? Am I that hard a person to take care of? How hard is it to see that I’m struggling and begging for help, yet I’m scared to ask for it because I’ve seen your reactions.

It isn’t that hard to treat a child like a human being!

That’s all I want! I want to be a human being and not some DOLL for you to parade around with! Because I know damn well the moment that I cracked you LEFT ME.

All I wanted was to be loved and cherished! But your love is conditional! Of course it is! Because to you, it is impossible to love and care about someone unless they’ve deemed themself worthy of being loved!

Do you understand how terribly you have fucked me over.

I don’t think you do.

I don’t think you understand the countless nights I have spent curled up by my desk bawling my eyes out because I can hear your voice telling me I’m not good enough! It’s never my voice! It’s always been yours! Your voice has been haunting me since elementary school!

Every.

Single.

Mistake.

It doesn’t matter how big or little it is! Every mistake you somehow find a way to drag me to the depths of Hell and create a new ring for me to lay in, for me to crawl out of.

The fact that every time we have one-on-one time with each other my conscious actively leaves my body in an attempt to try and cope and stabilize says everything to me.

You don’t love me.

You never have.

You don’t love your son who is struggling.

You love your trophy daughter that had dreams of a 4.0GPA and Harvard or Yale.

You love your daughter that never back-talked.

You loved the daughter you could control.

That is what you love. You love to control.

That’s all you’ll ever be good at.

You may “love” me. But I hate you.

I fucking hate you.

You’re the reason “love” has a bitter taste in my mouth and I’m finally starting to feel it sweeten again.

I’ll never be able to say I love you again, because just like you, it isn’t you I love.

Maybe we’re the same that way.

You “love” me because I’m something to show off.

I “love” you because I can leech off you. I can work on myself and you will never know because I have mastered living a double-life that you have never seen.

I “love” you so that I can still survive in this world.

Just for a bit longer I’ll love you.

Then one day, one day I can tell you everything you’ve done.

Until then, it all stays in my head.

At least there I’m heard.

[jakeperalta]

i just feel like my opinion over the fight is really unpopular because unlike other people who hates rory (for some unknown reason 😕), i think it was lorelai’s fault all along that it went down the way it went.

like i get why lorelai felt betrayed by her parents because they literally stab her in the back but it has nothing to do with rory. your daughter has to go to court and you just don’t show up because your mad? that’s your daughter! don’t have anything with emily & richard but don’t punish rory through them! her not telling rory about her engagement to luke, bringing all of rory’s stuff in the middle of the night and telling her parents that she’s out of the picture now because they won? you can not agree with their way, but your daughter needs her mom. like lorelai, beside being her mom, was also her best friend in the entire world. they talked and shared everything with each other.

cutting rory off like that and being all mad and bitter about it / commenting about it to rory like “did grandma changed your address?” // being mad at luke for telling rory about the engagement? showing up to rorys birthday party seeing everyone being happy surrounding her and staying outside of it? like fine. you are mad. you are hurt. but that’s your kid! YOUR KID and she needs her mom.

like you can be mad at her for dropping out of yale, but at least don’t cut her off like that. i’m still so pissed because rory did nothing to deserve this treatment from lorelai. yeah, she stole a yacht, she did a mistake, be there for her. don’t cut her off like that.

and when rory is moving in with logan and asking for Lorelai’s opinion lorelai is like “are you sure you don’t want to make sure the pool house is free first?” EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

i swear i love lorelai but if my mom would’ve getting engaged and not telling me about it…. it would’ve become my villain origin story.

yeah I find it annoying how it's often put totally on rory like she was falling apart that's when she needs support more than ever? especially since lorelai was willing to forgive rory for stealing the boat and it was only her taking time off from yale that was seen as some unforgivable mistake instead of just a sign that she's clearly struggling and feeling lost. the whole reason rory went to her grandparents was because lorelai wasn't being supportive and she needed some family to lean on

I get that lorelai's shocked and disappointed and obviously hurt by how her parents act so like a couple of episodes of them falling out would've made sense, but after that I wish she would've just been like "this isn't what I wanted from you but what can I do to be there for you anyway"

the scene where rory finds out about the engagement is so sad 😭 especially compared to how excited they were together in s1 when lorelai got engaged to max, this should've been like that excitement x1000 since rory loves luke so much (and then it doesn't help that once they finally make up lorelai and luke start falling apart like we were truly robbed 😭)

[burdenedwithfaith]

CHARACTER INFO SHEET

name . John Thomas Ward

name meaning .

John (Hebrew) : God Is Gracious

Thomas (Greek): Twinned

Ward (English): Guardian

alias/es . Father, Priest, Preacher, Master of Spirits

ethnicity . caucasian .

one picture / icon you like the best of your character .

three headcanons .

John just doesn't react to horrific things anymore. Or at the very least, shows barely any outward reaction. He's already seen too much. He's traumatised, desensitised. Nothing seems to bother him anymore, which can be kind of unnerving to others around him.

Any wounds inflicted upon him by demons, or things of a demonic nature, heal completely without leaving any scars. This is a part of John's apparent non-human nature. Scars from earthy sources (eg. his surgery scars) still remain as normal, however.

This headcanon is also mostly implied in-game, but everything about John's life has been monitored and manipulated. Primarily by the cult, but also by some agents of the church trying to keep him out of their hands. John going back to the Martin house in 87 is probably the first true act of free will he ever performed in his life.

three things your character likes doing in their free time .

Reading - John's primary pastime is reading and research. Partially for work, preparing homilies for Mass and such, but he also loves reading on philosophy and psychology, and also more recently books on the occult and counter-culture theology. He doesn't often read non-fiction, but he likes sci-fi and fantasy based things.

Cooking - John's something of a foodie. He originally learned to cook because it was the cheapest option for his appetite, but it became a small form of therapy for him. Also he enjoys cooking for others. Its kind of a way for him to show love and appreciation to people he cares for.

Sleeping - Kind of a silly one on the surface, but John sleeps so terribly at night, that he often takes naps during the day, specifically while the others are working so that he can hear them nearby. Hearing them moving around nearby, or watching tv, or listening to the radio reassures him enough that he can sleep more restfully that he could at night when everything is quiet.

people your character likes / loves.

Lisa Pearson - His oldest friend. The one person he believes truly understands him. Trusts her with everything. Doesn't ever want to risk losing her again. She means everything to him.

Father Garcia - His rock. A mentor, a guide, a trusted friend. He helps keep John grounded and pulls him back to reality when needed. Loves him dearly.

Molly - It's very complicated, and while he does harbour a lot of anger and bitterness towards her, he does still love her... But probably not in a healthy way

Valentino (@ruinedreliquaries) - John likes Father Lecce, but also worries about him a lot. He thinks the other priest is a little in over his head, much like he used to be at the start. He doesn't want him to make the same kind of mistakes he did.

two things your character regrets.

The '86 exorcism, I really needn't say more. He still blames himself.

Getting married. Or at least, rushing into it. It was an act of desperation to have some normalcy in his life, trying to cover up the problem and hoping it goes away.

one phobia your character has.

(We know about coulrophobia so I'm not gonna bring that up.) iatrophobia - Fear of doctors or medical settings. Thanks to his stay at Yale. The most contact he has is collecting prescriptions for his medication, and even then he has to be accompanied. If he's sick or injured he'd just avoid going to the doctor as much as possible.

tagged by: I found it in tags! tagging: @ruinedreliquaries, @laughing-hellblazer, whoever else!

[robo--homo]

can't stop thinking about the possible configurations of a Ninth House au for the raven chronicles. like, okay (I will try to provide descriptions for those who haven't read Ninth House)

Gansey is a shoe-in for Darlington. They are a 1 to 1 comparison: rich boys whose lives were saved by magic with (variably) neglectful families who go by their last names and are third in their line, who live on their own in shitty broken down houses (or warehouses), who are proper and perfect and would do anything to find magic again. Also, please imagine Gentleman Demon Gansey. Just. God.

My first thought was that this makes Blue into Alex. Neither one of them would feel like they fit in at Yale; their moms have similar vibes albeit from what I remember Alex's mom is entirely useless; but Alex's powers as one of the only people who can see the dead contrast so sharply with Blue having (seemingly) no powers in a family full of psychics. You'd have to give up one story to engage the other, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but will sharply decide how an AU goes.

Ronan is the only one who can match Alex for punkness, and replacing his dream powers with seeing the dead feels alright. A Ronansey AU might be interesting, but I shy away because of the reversed dynamics- Ronan worships Gansey, vs. Darlington worships Alex. Adam makes for a weird Virgil (the hierarchal position Darlington operates). Like, imagine Adam as the know-it-all teaching Ronan about magic and secret societies. Of course, Gansey could still be Virgil and have Adam occupy some other space. I've thought about Niall taking the place of Hellie, Kavinsky taking over Hellie, Kavinsky taking over Alex (listen I love my trash boy); Noah makes for a fun Bertram North insofar as giving him a role where he's a) dead and b) still a present part of the story.

Adam makes for a really fun Dante too, though (Alex's hierarchal position). Like, similarities with Alex: broken home life, class difference that makes him stick out at Yale, magical powers he's not entirely comfortable with... but more importantly, just. the compelling notion of Adam Parrish who can See Ghosts. Adam Parrish, bitter over getting into Yale despite not even getting a chance to apply, forced to take part in old-money secret society bullshit, led around by Gansey, eyes set on the only tolerable member of the societies in Ronan...

Gansey also makes a fun Dawes, tho. Like. The third hierarchal position is the grad student forever working on her PHD who just works to like do paperwork and maintain artifacts and shit if I remember correctly, and Gansey would fit in there too. Gansey fits everywhere. Ninth House is just a Gansey story /j

[brizzlovesyou]

I'm forever bitter that Jess and Rory didn't get together they better make another movie and put them together they were they otp

YES!!!! Wow anon you are firing on all cylinders aren't you?

I love their relationship so much and they just got each other, you know what I mean?? Jess is the only one who's ever seen what Rory needs and wasn't afraid to call her out on it. The "why did you drop out of Yale" scene is my favorite in the whole series and I LOVED that he's the one to lift her out of her funk in the revival season too. Also that pining look at the very end?? What else am I meant to think?!?!?!

They just had so much chemistry and they connected on such an intellectual level and I know Jess had a ton of growing up to do but he had an absolutely INCREDIBLE arc. He grew so much over the course of that series and I think they could make it work if they tried again. They're endgame in my heart.

[xtruss]

Anti-China Narrative Psychological Projection of US

— By S.L. Kanthan | February 08, 2024

Illustration: Tang Tengfei/Global Times

The US has struggled with a congenital defect - its addiction to wars. President John Quincy Adams famously said, "America does not go abroad in search of monsters to destroy." However, history tells a very different story, with the US having spent about 94 percent of the time in wars since 1776. The American Empire now has 800 military bases in 140 countries, and keeps doubling down on perpetual wars. Not satisfied with the current proxy and real wars in Ukraine, Gaza, Yemen, Lebanon, Iraq, Syria - and possibly Iran soon - the cackle of American think tanks and corporate media is clamoring for a delusional hot war against China.

The narrative against China can only be described as psychological projection. Using twisted logic and fallacies, the China hawks scream that China is a threat to the US and the world. But they forget to mention that the US has been waging non-stop economic war and propaganda war against China for years. Also, it is the US that surrounds China with hostile military bases - building new ones in the Philippines. Yet, in the world of inversion, China is the bad guy.

The US tries to hobble China's economy in countless ways, and then claims that China's slower GDP growth - relative to China's past performance, but still much better than the G7 nations - is an indication of China's intent to "invade Taiwan."

From Monday through Wednesday, US media gloats that China is collapsing. And Thursday through Sunday, the same media cries that China is on the cusp of taking over the world. Which one is it - China is weak or omnipotent?

Another popular talking point among anti-China hardliners is the rapid growth in China's defense investment. China's military strategy is mostly defensive like the Great Wall. China is a "threat" only to rapacious invaders.

As for Taiwan, here is the bitter pill for imperialists: there will be reunification. When China was weak in the 19th century, it was attacked by vultures who plucked off strategic regions. However, as China regained its rightful position in the world, former colonialists retreated, giving back the stolen lands. Remember how Portugal returned Macau and the UK returned Hong Kong? Similarly, the US will one day let go of Taiwan. The sooner the Americans accept this inevitability, the better the world will be.

"America Does Not Go Abroad in Search of Monsters To Destroy." — President John Quincy Adams

There was a time when one could tell the difference between a sensational tabloid and serious journalism in the US, but not anymore. Now, the once respectable media outlets such as the New York Times and Wall Street Journal are filled with fake news, disinformation and war propaganda.

A recent article by Hal Brands in Foreign Policy is an exemplary case for this decline in American intellectualism. By the way, Mr. Brands has stellar credentials - educated at Stanford and Yale, author of numerous books, and a regular columnist. However, his article is filled with misinformation and sensationalism. Lacking any real evidence of "China threat," he quotes the CIA, the organization that lies, cheats and steals - to paraphrase Mike Pompeo, former CIA director.

Finally, Hal Brands' entire premise about the state of China's economy is deeply flawed. In his echo chamber, nobody talks about China's 5.2-percent GDP growth in 2023, a trade surplus of a staggering $800 billion, China becoming the world's #1 exporter of cars, BYD surpassing Tesla, the resurgence of Huawei, and a long list of other accomplishments.

China watchers have been wrong for long but nobody gets fired for being wrong about China. Why? The goals of incessant big lies are to convince Americans that they have the greatest economic and political systems, and to manufacture consent for a war against China. Sadly, the propagandists are quite successful - the number of Americans who view China favorably dropped from 53 percent in 2018 to 15 percent by 2023 (Gallup Poll).

This is not the old Cold War. Today, the US economy is intricately linked to and dependent on China. From Apple and Tesla to Walmart and Starbucks, American corporations' fortunes depend on Chinese workers and consumers. Even the US military cannot function without Chinese products - for example, the CEO of Raytheon admitted that his company relies on "thousands of Chinese suppliers." Decoupling is a pipe dream.

US elites need a grand reset in their understanding of the world. A multipolar world is emerging. The US needs to stop being the "most warlike nation in history of the world," as Jimmy Carter put it. It's time to discard the paradigms of the military-industrial complex, and instead embrace a future of multilateralism, development and peace.

— The Author is a Geopolitical Analyst, Columnist, Blogger, Podcaster, and Writer Based out of Bangalore, India. His work can be found on Substack, X and more.

[anxiouspotatorants]

Time for some Yale Debbie Downers headcannons:

Their most common form of social gathering is movie nights at Rory’s accommodation that quickly dissolve into borderline group therapy.

The second most common is panicked study sessions whenever Glenn is behind on something or right before exams for one last hurrah. There’s a lot of coffee, a little screaming, and a tragic lack of sleep.

Due to his job, Marty tends to bring very fancy finger food to their meets, which is always paired up with whatever was on sale at the supermarket... It makes for interesting combos.

Rory gets the guys into ‘chick flicks’ (emphasis on the air quotes). Rory convinced Marty by starting with critically acclaimed romcoms, and Glenn wasn’t really given a choice. Glenn is a sucker for tragic soulmates (think Nicholas Sparks, City of Angels) and Marty’s fond of the witty but sincere (think Mystic Pizza, The Last Days of Disco)

Paris wants absolutely nothing to do with any of this. She is judging really hard. And no she is totally not jealous and she is never going to get on surprisingly okay terms with Glenn and form a weird friendship with Marty no no of course not-

Because of their bond and knowledge of each other’s love lives and insecurities, each person becomes incredibly protective of the other two. This means Glenn and Marty being unapologetically hostile towards frat bros and snobs who make a move on Rory (regardless of how fair it is they do not like Logan (but will tolerate him for Rory)). This also means Marty and Rory getting into fightmode whenever somebody is demeaning towards Glenn or his ex tries to get him back.

Their bond also makes them each other’s cheerleaders! Like how Rory and Glenn encourage Marty to explore and gush about what he’s attracted to in people, and Rory and Marty giving Glenn tips for approaching new girls.

If Glenn and Marty ever get to meet Dean or Jess they will freeze completely. Infinite staring and awkward tension. They know so much about these guys who are just now learning their names. Glenn and Marty could publicly ruin these guys’ images and Marty is really uncomfortable with that power. Glenn wants to use that power for some light bullying but inevitably chickens out.

Rory brings the boys back to Stars Hollow one time and Lorelai is confused about it (to be fair Rory doesn’t seem to have had any close male friends before the show). The boys decide to pull a prank on Rory and pretend to be in a polyamorous relationship with her. They come across Mrs Kim who almost gets a heart attack. Both of them go back to Yale with the experience of Rory’s withering stare and a month’s worth of coffee bills to make up for the embarrassment they put her through. 

To spice things up and also push themselves into the social sphere, the three of them go to see student productions of plays/dances/musicals/etc. Marty puts on a fancy scarf, Glenn and Rory ‘play’ at being snobby critcs, and Rory forces Paris to make a collage of the programs as a sentimental token around gradution.

After graduation they drift a little apart at the start due to different jobs in different places, but manage to keep in touch by email. At one point Rory and Glenn work at the same paper and become attached at the hip at work. It spurs them to more actively keep up with Marty, and they arrange to meet at least twice a year for weird finger food and ranting about life.

They might also occasionally go to stage plays together as adults, which leads to some very weird reunions. Sometimes they come across other Yale alumni (usually LDB people with box seats if they go to something fancy), and sometimes it’s Broadway star and Chilton alumnus Brad Langford.

[write4tomorrow]

Chapter 5: The Best Lies 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x CIA Agent!Reader

Summary: During the training with Maverick for the mission, the pilots must also complete “hostile condition” training with a CIA interrogator (reader). Hangman thinks this type of training is a waste of time until the reader exposes him. Enemies to Lovers. 

Genre: Adventure / Fluff

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Epilogue (Complete)

 You swirled your drink and leaned back in your seat. It had been a difficult few weeks. 

The pilots that took your training seriously were doing well, but you knew that Maverick’s training was what mattered. The flying had taken it’s toll on several of the pilots and everyone was stressed about leaving for the aircraft carrier tomorrow. Tonight, you decided to leave the base early and went to The Hard Deck by yourself. Your beer tasted bitter in your mouth and you wondered if it would be easier or harder if you spent the night in the company of the Top Gun pilots. 

Despite your best efforts and your admittedly cold demeanor, you had become too close to all of the pilots. Rooster and Phoenix were probably your closest friends in the world, but you knew that they were the best pilots. You wouldn’t be surprised if Maverick chose them as part of the assault team. But even the other pilots had become your friends. Bob was the best karaoke partner; Fanboy always knew the punchline to the joke before you told it; Coyote never said no to a game of cards; Harvard and Yale taught you how to actually play Dogfight Football; and Hangman…

You two didn’t speak for almost a week. Almost. 

A week ago today you beat him in the interrogation game at The Hard Deck. Some of the pilots were still poking fun at his loss. You were glad to win the interrogation game, but you hadn’t heard his taunting voice in days. He was avoiding you like oil on water. At first you didn’t mind, but as you continued to listen to the Dogfights over the radio, you kept an ear out for his voice specifically. And as you did, you began to notice little things. 

The first time you noticed something was during a dogfight with Harvard, Yale, and Hangman. Predictably, Hangman left to chase down Maverick. But as he talked over the headset, you heard him almost methodically whispering lyrics. You had to really listen, but they were the lyrics to your favorite song. Thankfully you were alone, listening to the dogfight over a personal radio from the comfort of your room, but you hummed along to the melody. Rooster had played it the night before at The Hard Deck and you practically screamed the lyrics in the middle of the bar. Did Hangman hear that? If he was there, you didn’t notice him. 

The fourth time you noticed something strange was when Hangman, in the middle of a dogfight with Maverick, asked, “Hey Mav, why’d you never get married?”

“Sometimes I wish I did,” Maverick answered, “is this a new tactic? Try to distract me over the headset?”

“Was there ever a girl you could see yourself with?” Hangman pushed. 

“Hangman, why are you asking?” Maverick asked after a moment. 

“I’ve just been thinking about it…” was all Hangman said. 

The most recent time you noticed something was going on with Hangman happened when he tried to fly through the simulated valley for the first time. You were in the rec room with most of the other pilots, trying not to be impressed by Hangman’s flying. He was staying below the 100 foot hardeck and swerved left and right to avoid being targeted by the surface to air missiles. This was the fourth time he had flown this track. He was even beating his personal record while avoiding the SAM’s.

Coyote and Fanboy were having trouble keeping up. 

“Damn, Hangman, what’s got you flying so fast?” Fanboy’s strained voice came over the radio. 

“I’ve got a lot to lose,” Hangman answered. You rolled your eyes and heard Coyote give a small chuckle. 

“The ego,” you mouthed to Rooster. 

“Nothing can compare to a man in love,” Coyote said over the headset. Hangman just scoffed but you froze where you were standing. Rooster turned to you then and he looked as confused as you felt. Rooster raised his hands and shrugged, he didn’t know what it was about either. But you were eerily aware of the other pilots in the rec room with you. All of you had been listening to the radio but now a few people’s attention shifted towards you. 

But none of that compared to the fight you had with Hangman just hours ago. You were playing a game of cards with Coyote in the rec room. There were some other pilots around, but it was a game of poker and only you and Coyote were left in the game. Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob were looking over your shoulder while Payback was hovering next to Coyote. 

“Hey, Coyote,” you said slowly, “What was up with Hangman the other day?”

“What do you mean?” Coyote said. He was looking at you over the top of his cards. You knew you shouldn’t pry, but the pilots were leaving for the mission tomorrow. This may be your last chance to find out. Luckily, Phoenix knew where this conversation was going. 

“You said Hangman was in love,” Phoenix answered. You watched Coyote’s eyes dart back towards his playing cards. Payback turned a nervous expression toward Coyote. 

“It’s someone we know,” you whispered. After watching these pilots for weeks, you knew their ticks and tells. Coyote was trying to hide something from you and Payback knew what it was. 

“Look, it’s probably not even that serious,” Payback said, trying to cover for Coyote. 

“What do you know?” Rooster asked. You leaned forward in your chair, watching the two pilots in front of you. Neither of them spoke. Knowing the power of silence, you let the quietness become louder. 

“Hey, y/n,” Bob muttered from behind you. Remaining silent, you chose to ignore him. You heard Phoenix shush him until… 

“y/n,” Phoenix said. You heard something hesitant in her voice. You let out a breath and turned around to face Bob and Phoenix. But they weren’t looking at you. They turned toward the doorway of the rec room and you were surprised to see that even Rooster was looking that way. And when you realized why, you understood Phoenix's tone. 

“Let’s talk in my office,” Cyclone said. He was standing in the doorway, awkwardly nodding at the other top gun pilots in the room. You nodded and tossed your cards down on the table and Coyote groaned. 

“I should have called your bluff, Ice Queen,” he said with a smile. “I would have won.” You laughed with him and gave Bob, Phoenix, and Rooster a comforting look. 

“See if you can find out anything else about Hangman,” you instructed. They all nodded and you followed your father out of the rec room. 

The meeting with your dad was short. He asked how you were doing, how the pilots were, what you thought of the mission tomorrow, and if there was anyone you would recommend to sit out of the mission. 

“Halo might be a weak link,” you confessed, “but everyone else - at least everyone that has been attending my classes - seems to be eligible for the mission.” Your dad nodded at your words. 

“You’re still planning on going with us to the aircraft carrier tomorrow?” Your father leveled you with a look. You only nodded. There was something else going on and you could tell that your father wasn’t telling you something. 

“It may not be a good idea,” Cyclone finally said. You felt your eyebrows pull together but patiently waited for an explanation. Cyclone ran a hand over his hair and continued: “I’ve noticed that you… distract some of the pilots. You’re attached to them. You wear your heart on your sleeve.” 

“Are you kidding,” you laughed, “they call me Ice Queen. I don’t think I’m wearing anything on my sleeve.”

“You care about them,” Cyclone said. He let a small smile creep over his face as he looked at you. “You get it from your mother, you know.” 

“I’m going to the aircraft carrier tomorrow and I plan on being in that control room during the mission,” you said but then added, “sir.” Your father locked eyes with you for a moment and he eventually nodded. He looked out the window and sighed. The sun was still above the horizon but it was quickly setting. 

“I think you distract the pilots but you also motivate them. Mav agrees. It’s no secret the effect you have on them. Sometimes Mav can’t get through to them but you can. The way you talk to Pheonix and Bob, your relationship with Rooster, Coyote, Hangman-”

“Hangman?” You interrupted. Your father only raised one eyebrow in your direction. There was something about the look coming from your father that made your neck feel warm. Were you blushing?

“We’re leaving the base at 0600 tomorrow. Be ready.” Cyclone said, dismissing you. Gladly, you left his office and made your way to the rec room. But something was wrong. There were shouts coming from the rec room and you knew those voices. 

You began running down the hall and could tell that Rooster was arguing with someone. It took a lot to get Rooster to that level of rage and you knew that it couldn’t be good. Where were Pheonix? Bob? What happened? 

“It’s none of your business what I think of y/n or who I talk to about her.” 

You stopped in your tracks. You were only a few steps from the doorway and you knew that voice too well. Hangman. Something about hearing him speak in person for the first time in a week startled you. It made you take a step toward the door but quickly stopped as Hangman spoke again. 

“This is none of your business,” he continued. Before you could do anything, he walked out of the room and into the hall. He froze as he looked up to find you. Rooster, Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix hurried out but Hangman didn’t look away from your face. Instead, he let his cocky facade slide into place. 

“We’ll if it isn’t the Ice Queen herself.” Hangman slid his hands into his pockets as you walked toward him. Your steps were quick, decisive. No one spoke as you planted yourself less than a foot away from Hangman, glaring up at him. 

“Are you going to break your vow of silence, sweetheart?” Hangman taunted. You mentally kicked yourself, wondering how you could ever miss his voice. 

“Lieutenant, what is your problem?” You set your jaw and stared at him. A shadow fell over his face as he leaned in. His breath danced across your face. 

“You,” he answered. He pushed past you and his footsteps echoed in the long hallway. You were left looking at your friends’ faces. Coyote gave you an apologetic look before he left to catch up with Hangman. 

“He requested that you stay here at Top Gun tomorrow rather than join Cyclone, Warlock and Holdo in the command room.” Phoenix said. You blinked a few times. So that was why your father had wanted to talk to you. But if Hangman didn’t want you there…

“Where are you going?” Rooster asked as you began walking away. You weren’t sure where you were going but your body pushed you to move in the opposite direction of Hangman. Tears pricked your eyes and your breath was coming in small bursts. Rooster and Bob made an attempt to follow you, but Phoenix held them back. 

You were so distraught that you walked most of the way to The Hard Deck before you even knew what you were doing. By a stroke of luck, Penny had found you walking in that direction. She was driving into work and knew something was wrong by the look on your face. Without asking any questions, Penny chauffeured you the rest of the way and poured a drink for you when you arrived. You sat in a small corner, watching the other patrons in the bar slowly trickle in as the night continued. The beer in your hand had become room temperature, but you didn’t care as it swirled around in the glass. 

After an hour or so of swirling your drink, a couple of bodies appeared at your table. Wordlessly, a few of the Top Gun pilots took a seat, giving you warm smiles. Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, even Payback and Fanboy pulled up chairs. You didn’t have to fake your joy when you looked at each of them. 

“If every single one of you doesn’t make it back from the mission tomorrow,” your voice broke as you spoke, “I’ll kill all of you.” 

The pilots around you laughed and began doing their best to cheer you up. Unknown to you, Hangman watched from across the room.

Hangman and Coyote looked on as their friends slowly cheered you up at the opposite end of the bar. Hangman could tell you had been crying and something in his chest ached when he saw your face. He understood why Coyote had forced him to come. 

“Don’t do this to her,” Coyote said in a low voice, “don’t do this to yourself, man.” Hangman’s eyes were glued to you but he nodded at Coyote’s words. 

Hangman’s mouth went dry as Rooster took your hand and pulled you up from the table. The pilots cheered as your face split into a genuine grin. You and Rooster began dancing to whatever the jukebox was playing. Arms flailing, head shaking, and lips grinning, you looked like the cunning girl he had beat at pool so many weeks ago. 

“Just look at yourself, Hangman,” Coyote chided. Hangman turned his attention to his friend and was surprised to find himself smiling. Hangman gave his friend a good natured shove and walked toward you. 

“Ice Queen!” Hangman bellowed. Almost every head in the bar turned his way, including yours. The smile on your face slipped and Rooster took a small step in front of you. That didn’t stop Hangman from giving you an award winning smile. 

“I have a bone to pick with you.” Hangman stopped just a few feet in front of you. Being this close meant that he could see how your eyes were still a little puffy from earlier tears. Hangman cursed himself but carried on. 

“Please,” he held out his hand toward you. It took great effort, but he let his face soften. He tried to lay himself bare in front of you with just a look. And as he watched your face, he knew you saw something on his own. Of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t skeptical. You placed your hand in his, but didn’t budge. Instead, your eyes narrowed, waiting for him to make the next move. 

“Convince me to listen,” was all you said. Hangman rolled his eyes.

“Why can’t you just make this easy, y/n?” Hangman closed his hand around yours and pulled hard enough to make you stumble forward. Using your momentum, Hangman threw you over his shoulder and turned to leave. He saw Rooster, as well as a handful of other pilots, move to defend you, but Coyote stepped in their path. Hangman didn’t know what his friend said to the others, but they didn’t follow him as he carried you out of the bar. Rooster didn’t even make an attempt to follow you outside. 

“Hangman! Hey, Lieutenant! Lieutenant Seresin. Stop!” You were hitting Hangman’s back which only made him tighten his grip around your legs. He didn’t stop until he stood on the dark beach, a few meters away from The Hard Deck. 

“Lieutenant, put me down-” you huffed, still struggling. 

“Say my name,” Hangman said in a low voice. He felt you still in his arms. He couldn’t see your face but he knew you understood what he wanted. After a moment of silence from you, Hangman gave your ass a hard flick. You began to swear.

“C’mon,” Hangman said, “just let me hear you say my name and I’ll put you down.” 

“Jake Seresin, put me down now,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Gently, he allowed you to slide off of his shoulder. He kept a grip on you until he was sure you had found your footing in the sand. He watched you then, your face lit by the distant lights from the bar. You looked furious. 

“Look, I know-” Hangman didn’t get a chance to finish. With all your might, you punched Hangman’s gut. He doubled over, trying to catch his breath. Still, he was a little satisfied to see you shake out your fist. 

“Are you kidding,” you wheezed, clutching your hand, “Why is your stomach so… so hard?” 

“No one has ever complained about how hard I am,” Hangman said with a pained laugh. You moved to punch him again, but Hangman had learned his lesson. He caught your fist as it sailed through open air. You pulled back but Hangman didn’t let go of your wrist. Instead, your breath caught as Hangman pulled your hand to his chest and he began to gently massage your palm and knuckles. 

“Did you hurt your hand?” Hangman asked with a fake pout. 

“What do you want, Lieutenant?” You glared up at the pilot. 

“I want to talk to you. Can I do that? Will you just listen, for once?” Hangman’s voice sounded frustrated but void of it’s usual bravado. You watched his face for a moment, wondering where this was going. You wanted to release your frustration. You wanted to punch him again. It would hurt, but it felt good to let your feelings out like that. 

The way Hangman was holding your hand  also felt good. 

“As long as you don’t stop doing that,” you finally answered.

“Yes ma’am,” Hangman grinned. 

“And if this is going to be a long conversation, I’d rather sit.” You quickly added. Hangman nodded and pulled you down into the chilly sand. You sat across from him and you had to lean forward for Hangman to keep massaging your palm. Your legs were crossed and so were his. Your knees were resting against his crossed legs. 

It wasn’t a comfortable way to sit and he noticed. Wordlessly, Hangman moved closer. He lifted his legs and placed them on either side of you so that they rested over your folded legs and his feet stuck out behind you. He silently raised an eyebrow asking if it was okay. You gave him a little nod. 

“You distract me-” Hangman began.

“So you had to go tell my dad?” You interrupted. 

“You said you’d listen.” Hangman glared. You apologized and motioned with your free hand for him to continue. 

“I think I hate you,” Hangman said, but he continued to speak before you could interrupt again, “You - and I cannot stress this enough - make my head hurt. Like the worst headache I've ever had. You’re just always… Something about you and that smart mouth of yours brings out the worst in me and it makes me want to be better. I don’t know what it is, Ice Queen, but you make me grind my teeth and for the first time in my life, when I’m up there, all I can think about is coming back down. I want to come find you in the rec room playing cards with Coyote and I want to go to The Hard Deck and see you singing with Rooster and Phoenix. I want to be the one dancing with you and I want to show you that I can spin you around better than anyone else in the whole bar. And even when I’m up in the air, I just… I know you’re listening and want to talk to you. And I hate it, y/n.” 

You didn’t know when it happened, but at some point Hangman stopped massaging your hand. You sat, facing the arrogant pilot, one of your hands was held in both of his while your other hand lazily rested on his thigh. 

“Oh, now you’re silent?” Hangman let out a nervous laugh. “I think you’re clever and I also think that makes you dangerous. And sometimes I want to take you down a notch because I know you can take me down.” Hangman seemed to be looking everywhere but your face. He kept your hand close to his chest and you tried to find something to say.  

“But all I really want is your attention,” Hangman glanced up at you, meeting your gaze. “and I hate you for ignoring me. I hate you for making me watch Rooster sing with you. I hate you because you like hanging out with Phoenix and Coyote and even Bob more than you like seeing me. And I hate watching you smile at everyone but me. And I just hate myself because…” Hangman’s voice broke then. He looked down at his hands, still clutching your own. 

“I hate you.” Your voice sounded so distant. The crashing waves behind you were loud but all you could hear was your heart beating in your chest. 

You and Hangman looked at one another. Neither of you spoke and you used your free hand to touch his cheek. You felt little grains of sand on his skin. His eyes never left your face as you wiped away some of the sand. 

“Say it again,” Hangman demanded. His voice was different now and you liked the way his face moved under your touch. 

“I hate you, Jake,” you said. Hangman inhaled and something in you felt unbelievably fragile like a glass box teetering on the edge of a high shelf. 

“I hate you and I hate the idea that you...” You had to take a deep breath to fight the lump in your throat, “I hate that I don’t know if you’re going to make it back from the mission, tomorrow. And if you don’t, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this… hate.” 

“Well if that’s your concern, worry no more, Ice Queen,” Hangman said, bringing some of his bravado back, “rest assured, I’m the best. And I’m coming back tomorrow.” You rolled your eyes and laughed. Pulling your hands away from Hangman, you moved to swat his chest. He caught your wrist for the second time that night and, very slowly, brought your open palm to his lips. 

You told yourself to pull away. You told yourself this was a bad idea. But feeling Hangman’s lips against your palm pushed all thoughts out of your head. 

“Tell me you hate me again,” Hangman said, “you tell the best lies.” 

“Tomorrow, when you come back from the mission.” You promised. There was a challenge in your voice and you felt your familiar grin return to your face.  

“C’mon, Ice Queen,” Hangman said in a plaintive voice, “hate me tonight. Hate me now.” 

“Tomorrow,” you insisted. “when you’re back - safe and sound - I’ll hate you then.” Hangman raised an eyebrow, a little gleam beginning to show in his eyes. He took both of your hands in his.

“Tomorrow,” he began, “when I come back as the hero of the day, you and I are going to play your interrogation game by my rules. You’re going to answer all of my questions - no lies.”

“And you’ll answer my questions, too?” You asked. Hangman nodded and pulled you to your feet. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Hangman said, looping your arm around his. The two of you began walking toward The Hard Deck. You could see Rooster and Phoenix dancing with one another. Bob laughed with the other pilots around the pool table. And then you turned to glance up at Hangman. His eyes were already on you, an unreadable expression on his face. Thinking about what might happen tomorrow made your chest feel empty. So, if you held Hangman’s arm a little tighter or pressed yourself a little more against his side, you told yourself that it was better to enjoy it now than to regret it later. 

“Where are we going, Lieutenant?” You asked, turning away and hoping your blush wasn’t evident. He was leading you around The Hard Deck rather than back towards the entrance. 

“I’m driving you home,” He said with a shrug, “On the ride back, you can tell me more about our date tomorrow.”

A/N: Phew, chapter 5 is done and THE COMMENTS kill me. The support on this is so sweet. Literally the best motivation ever and @turningtoclown that hashtag is the best thing I've ever read. I am laughing so hard. @bluebunny780 and @teacactusworld your messages were so stinking kind.

Please let me know what you think of Ch. 5!

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