#Harvard Exit

[missing-old-seattle]

[shadowland]

my affair obsession with jack pickford got out of hand earlier on in the year, but i'm not sorry

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Thirteen: [Panic Room]

Summary: Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author Note: A big show of appreciation and love to @a-reader-and-a-writer (Vee) for constantly being ready and willing to help me with my writing. You have been the backbone I needed to get this done!

You guys will never know how much this series means to me. And in the same breath, you guys will never know how much your support truly means. Merry Christmas Eve Eve 2024 ya filthy animals.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers say the average length of a dream is two to three minutes long. But many people experience their dreams as hours, days, or even years if they can remember them at all. 

The science of dreaming has been questioned for hundreds of years. Some hypothesise that dreams are our way of processing real events that occur when we’re awake. They also serve as an outlet for repressed hopes and desires. Neuroscientists introduce a new theory every few years. But honestly, no one knows why we dream. 

Or why we have nightmares. We just hope that after the dream, we wake up. 

“We’ve gone over all the risks, weighed up all the possible outcomes, dotted I’s and crossed T’s. Today is the day, Mrs. Seresin.” Doctor Morrison was hopeful in his consultation. The white coat-wearing man reassured you as he placed your chart back where it belonged. “How are you feeling?” 

The question went unanswered for a moment or two. You felt like you were in a state of shock. Unable to truly express how you felt just hours before going into what could be life-changing surgery. You were giving everyone in the room a thousand-yard stare. Mentally and physically, you had checked out. Like you’d been stuck in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop torturing you. 

“We had some bad news last night. A close friend passed away unexpectedly,” Jake answered on your behalf. “Is there any way–” 

“We need to do this now, Mr. Seresin, or we won’t be able to revisit this for a few months,” Dr. Morrison explained with an emphasis on the matter of now or never. “I understand personal circumstances may have changed. However, knowing everything you know about risk and recovery and survival rates after double mastectomies, I recommend we stick to the organised care plan.” 

“Can we have a moment alone?” Jake asked cautiously as his hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You hadn’t moved from what could only be described as a catatonic-like state for the entire duration of the conversation. 

“Of course,” Dr. Morrison nodded. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked in on a few patients.” 

It didn’t take long at all for the oncology crew to exit the room. But the second they did, you felt like you could breathe again. 

“I can’t go through with this surgery Jake,” you begged. Fear of the unknown had taken over your entire being. “I can’t do this,” 

“You are the strongest person I know, honey, the kids and I really need you to do this.” Jake tried his best to comfort you as well as remind you why this surgery was so important. “We need you, yeah? We need you to stick around and this fucking cancer, this disease, is trying to cut that time short.” 

“But Jensen–” 

At the height of the Great Depression, Harvard scientists started tracking students in hopes of discovering the key to a long and happy life. They looked at participants’ mental and physical health over seventy-five years. It’s the longest study of happiness to date. Seventy-five years and all they did was confirm what we’ve known since the beginning of time. 

The most powerful predictor of health and happiness is the quality of our relationships. 

Strong relationships protect us. Loneliness on the other hand…can be deadly. 

“Would want you to keep fighting and have this surgery.” Jake could have said he thought Jensen was a coward. He could have said how angry he was at that fucker for leaving you alone in this world with no one to confide in who knew the struggle, who knew the feeling of being told you’re sick and need to get sicker in order to get better. 

Jake could have told you how he wished Jensen had survived so he could kill him himself. Jake could have responded with the fact Jensen was terminal and there was nothing on this earth that could have saved him from his illness. 

Jake could have told you that Jensen thought you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky every night just for him…but then Jake would also have to admit to himself and you that maybe, just maybe, you should have moved on. 

“What would he say right now if he was here?” Jake settled on that question just to keep himself sane. He didn’t want to open yet another can of worms right before your surgery. This was all one big giant nightmare already, he didn’t want to make it worse. If anything, Jake kept pinching himself in secret just hoping that maybe he’d wake up on the couch and this cancer saga would all be some sadistic subconscious dream of his. 

He’d always been deathly afraid of not being good enough for you. 

“He’d tell me to do it,” you sighed as you let your head rest against the upright bed. “He’d tell me to be strategic about the battle, the war is the endgame.” 

“Exactly, one battle at a time, step by step,” Jake agreed with a cheeky smile. That signature Seresin smile you so effortlessly loved. “You’re not gonna hand in the white flag before the battles even really begins, are you?” 

“Kinda want to if I’m being completely honest with you,” you responded knowing Jake would appreciate the honesty. “But I guess you and the kids really need me to stick around, huh?” 

“Oh, I can’t even begin to explain how much we need you to stick around, honeybee.” it was as honest and as sincere as Jake could be. He wore his heart on his sleeve for you. He exposed every nerve he had just so you could dance your feather-like fingers across the tender strings that made Jake, Jake. 

“I’m so scared of being alone in the operating room,” you admitted as Jake leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so scared they won’t see me as a person,” It was an explanation that broke Jake’s heart even though he believed his heart couldn’t be broken any more. “That they won’t remember I’m me, that I have a life and a family and people who will miss me.” 

Over the course of our lives, our relationships ebb and flow. We get together, break up, move away, or fall out of touch. It’s prolonged periods of loneliness and toxicity that wreak havoc on our health, our brain function, and our longevity. 

“You’re never alone,” Jake replied softly as tears threatened to spill over his waterline. “I’m always with you, the kids are always with you, Jensen, your mum, everyone will be with you during that surgery, we’re gonna be waiting on the other side.” 

“I love you so much, Jake Seresin,” you smiled brightly through a tight-lipped smile Jake wished he could save in his mind’s eye forever. “Let’s win this battle.” 

“And the war too,” Jake replied as he reached for your hand, gave it a soft squeeze, and brought your palm to his lips. “Let’s fucking do this, Y/n.” 

*************************************

Jake sat waiting by the vending machine as he picked at the small single service-sized packet of original Lays he’d nearly had to beg the machine to drop. His watch told him it was almost nearing the end of your surgery. He wasn't stressed, not when your surgeon had been so hopeful and calming. Jake had spent far too much of his time recently worrying about the what-ifs. He wanted to focus on the now. And that now was the fact you would have been nearing the end of your surgery. Which meant soon enough he’d get to see you again. 

The only thing that kept Jake on his toes was the ever-looming doubt that perhaps the treatment plan wouldn't be enough. He hoped that you had enough fight in you to make it through the journey. He needed you to have enough strength to fight. 

“She should be coming out of surgery soon–” Jake explained as he held his phone up to his ear and tried not to chew so loud. “The kids know that Rooster is picking them up to bring them home to Grandma Maz’s house?” 

“Yeah, Mum’s not too happy about it but she won't keal over about it,” Jasmine replied as she watched her brother's kids play with hers in the backyard she and Jake used to make mud pies in. “Rooster messaged about an hour ago saying he was close, he shouldn't be too far away now.” Jas continued in her own little world. Jake was used to not being able to get a word in with his youngest sister. “I can't believe Y/n has fucking cancer–does her side of the family have a history or…?” 

“Not that we know of, it's just really bad luck, Jas,” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the wall his chair was pressed up against. “But hopefully with this surgery and the chemo, she’ll be able to beat it.” 

“Well, you tell her that I’m pissed she gets a boob job before I do,” Jasmine tried her best to keep the situation as light-hearted as possible. “Make sure she gets a good rack, not too small or too big, like a good handful that's just right.” 

“I'll be sure to let her know,” Jake smiled, he really could count on his sister for that. “Oh, I gotta go, I see Y/n’s surgeon.” Jake sat up in anticipation as anxiety flooded his nervous system. “Tell the kids we love them for me.” 

“Have been every day,” Jasmine replied quickly knowing her brother probably had his phone down from his ear by now. “Bye.” 

Jake was quick to pocket his phone and wipe the crumbs from his shirt as he stood to greet your surgeon. However, something seemed off about the man who had seemed so confident before your surgery. 

“Mr. Seresin–” 

“How is she?” Jake asked. He didn't mean to interrupt, but he needed to know first and foremost before any medical mumbo jumbo. “My wife, how’d the surgery go?” 

There was a very telling pause that accompanied the sober look that Doctor Morrison wore, but Jake tried not to read into it all that much. He knew you would be fine. 

Right? 

“Mr Seresin, your wife's heart was weakened by the stress of her recent stroke,” Doctor Morrison began to explain as Jake stood there expecting good news. “She, unfortunately, went into a cardiac arrest–” the air around Jake disappeared. Almost instantly, he felt as if he were floating in space. “We tried to revive her for the better half of twenty minutes while she was on the table,” There was a pause. A telling moment where reality and fantasy were trying to battle it out. Who’s version of events would win? When Doctor Morrison saw Jake’s mind short-circling with an inability to process the magnitude of information, he felt as if he needed to continue explaining the severity of the situation. 

“It was catastrophic, and I'm afraid we've lost her.” Doctor Morrison had told far too many loved ones over the years that they had lost family members, but never in all his years had he ever seen such immediate denial written in the lines on someone's face. “Mr. Seresin, your wife has died.” The words Doctor Morrison was saying were not sinking in as Jake stood there completely blind to the reality happening around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss–” 

“Uh–” Jake frowned as the confusion kicked in. “I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My wife was fine before she went in for surgery, she was fine.” 

“Yes, yes, your wife was fine, yes–” Doctor Morrison tried to keep his composure, but even after all these years the losses still hurt. It made him feel human to experience the emotions alongside the family members, but in the first few seconds of watching Jake Seresin spiral into a hole of denial that you were, in fact, gone, Doctor Morrison, knew this particular loss would haunt him for the rest of his career. 

Speaking slowly, Doctor Morisson tried once more to explain what had happened in a way that Jake would understand. “The stress of the surgery along with her recent stroke…her body just couldn't handle the stress. Her heart experienced a cardiac episode and we unfortunately couldn’t revive her.” 

The immediate silence between the two men was all-consuming as it was telling. Jake’s heart was breaking in two. 

“Is there someone I can call for you?” Doctor Morrison tried to be as empathetic as he could be, this part of the job was never easy. The part where he was tasked with telling loved ones that the people they loved had passed on his table. They were few and far between, but the people he did lose would forever haunt him. He could name every single one and their family’s name too. Jake Seresin would be a name Doctor Morrison would remember for the rest of his life and into the next. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jake pushed back almost immediately as he tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. This didn’t make any sense, you were just here. You were fine. 

“No, Mr. Seresin I–” Doctor Morrison tried to explain again, but it was to no avail.

“I–Okay, I think you must be mistaken,” Jake wiped his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. “I just need to ge–”

“Mr. Seresin, please.” Doctor Morrison tried to stop Jake from leaving the waiting area, but Jake just stepped further back with a frown of disgust and grief. He was still holding his packet of Lays. 

“No, no can you just, can you back up?” Jake nearly growled. “Can you leave me alone?” Jake looked around as he tried to remember how to breathe. People were staring at him like he was in a zoo. A caged and cornered animal begging to be left alone. “Can somebody get this person to just give me some space please?” It was as heartbreaking as it was cruel to watch Jake walk down the hall towards where he knew your hospital room was. 

“Y/n?” He called out hoping you'd be back by now. “You won’t believe this guy, honey. He just–” The moment Jake rounded the corner and saw your hospital room empty with no sign of you, he stood still. All the air had been sucked right from his lungs as his eyes scanned the room. Your Christmas lights weren’t flashing, your bed wasn't made, and your laptop sat open with a black screen, but just where you’d left it. You weren't back. 

“Y/n?” Jake whispered under his breath as his eyes continued to scan the empty hospital room just waiting for you to appear from out of the bathroom or sneak up behind him. But Jake knew you weren't about to appear even though he wished for nothing more. 

“Oh–” One step, two steps, three steps, four. Jake didn't know where he was but he was on the move. He couldn't stay here looking at an empty room. He had to find where you were. “Oh god, no, no no no no no, please no don’t take her away from me.” 

“Jake!” The woman's voice Jake had come to know over the last few days broke through the fog that was clouding Jake's mind. He continued to stumble blindly down the ward. “I just heard,” Lydia explained as she rushed up to the man who she had come to know as your husband. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I thought–” Lydia quickly reacted when Jake's knees buckled underneath him. 

“Woah! I need a little help over here!” Doctor Morrison was quick on the draw as he made his way over to where Jake now kneeled on the floor unable to breathe. 

“My wife–” Jake tried to talk as he hyperventilated. “Y/n!” he cried out for all to hear. “Y/N!” 

“She's gone.” Doctor Morrison had to make sure the fact was sinking in. 

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry–” Lydia tried to console the six-foot-something man who had crumbled to his knees. “Your wife was an amazing woman.” 

Jake still couldn't believe it, he didn't believe it, and he wouldn't. The pain he felt inside his chest, the burning hot sensation was excruciating. He’d never felt such a feeling of grief mixed with denial and so much love. You couldn’t be gone. He was having a nightmare, wasn’t he? This wasn't real. He was dreaming. This was all one big dream. It had to be. It had to be a nightmare his subconscious had concocted. A nightmare where Jake lost it all. His biggest fears were realised. 

“I need my wife, I need Y/n,” Jake sobbed as Lydia kneeled on the ground in front of him just assessing his current state of shock. “I can't, she can't–no no no she's fine, please tell me she's fine.” 

“I'm so sorry, Jake,” Lydia confirmed what Jake wished so desperately wasn’t true. “She’s gone,” Lydia’s voice became distorted as she held the broken man in her arms. “You need to wake up before it's too late.” 

************************

Bradley Bradshaw was accustomed to losing the people he loved the most in this world. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his grandparents. For a while there he’d lost the only man who had ever slightly filled the shoes his dad left behind. But the loss of someone who was still there was something he’d never had to handle before. 

“Nat, he hasn’t gotten out of bed in days,” Bradley groaned as he cleaned up the kitchen. “The kids already lost their mother,” Bradley tried his best to keep his voice down, but the way little Lennox clocked Bradley from where he was sitting at the dining table made him realise he wasn’t one to talk on the quiet side. “They don’t need to lose their dad too.”

Jake stood just outside of Bradley’s eyeline, but he could hear everything the giant overgrown bird was saying. He couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying but there was enough back and forth on Bradley’s behalf to easily fill in the gaps. 

“No. No, he hasn’t been down since the funeral.” Jake forgot how to exhale at the mere mention of your funeral as he hid in the hall. He couldn’t remember ever getting ready or speaking at your wake. He couldn’t remember who drove them or if the kids cried. He couldn’t remember hugging your mother or shaking your brother’s hand. Jake couldn’t remember any details about the flowers he’d organised or the people who were there. 

The anti-depressants weren’t helping. Nothing was. Nothing would. 

Until today, Jake couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Without you, there was no point. He was begrudgingly okay with living a life in a world where you were still in it. But living in a world where you were no longer present wasn’t something Jake was willing to do. The kids would be fine with their grandparents. They’d be fine with Uncle Rooster. Lennox and Lucy and little Sammy didn’t need him. How was he supposed to look into their eyes and know he could never see the twinkle in yours ever again? 

“I’m really worried about him, Nat,” Rooster sighed as he held his phone up to his ear with his shoulder. He was working on making little Samy some banana pancakes. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay here forever, but he needs someone.” 

“No one is asking you to babysit me, Bradshaw,” Jake replied to the statement Bradley wasn’t expecting an answer to. “You can leave, trust me, I can drop the kids off with my mum.” 

Bradley stood stunned into silence as he watched Jake round the corner and into vision. He reluctantly reached for his phone and hung up as Phoenix questioned what was going on. 

“Hey man,” Rooster finally broke the silence as he watched Jake walk closer and closer to where Sammy sat in his high chair. “How you feeling today?” 

“Well, my wife’s still dead, so that’s something,” Jake replied with a sigh as he picked up Sammy and placed him on his lap. Lennox could see the look of pure admiration in his younger brother’s eyes as Jake hugged the smallest of the Seresin kids. “Seriously, you’ve done enough for us, I got it from here.” It was the biggest lie Jake had ever tried to tell not only himself but his best friend. 

“Uh,” Bradley wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean–I wanna stay as long as you need man,” Bradley tried to plead his case as Jake went about his business with Sammy. The business being nothing. Jake stood somewhat dazed and lost in the middle of the clean-ish kitchen. A kitchen he knew where nothing was. It wasn’t his. It was yours. 

“I think the kids should come back to North Island with me,” Jake opted to ignore what Bradley was saying. Instead, he decided to continue with a vague plan for what the future holds. A future he didn’t want to have with you. A future he didn’t care about. 

“You want the kids to uproot everything they know?” Rooster frowned as he looked over to where Lenny sat watching on. The kids were down, to say the least. Bradley could recognise himself in the permanent pout that had taken shape across Lennox’s face. The puffy eyes and saddened expression really tied the whole look of mourning together. They were just kids, they didn’t deserve any of this. “I don’t think you should be thinking about coming back to work anything soon either.” 

“I don’t need you micromanaging me,” Jake hissed as he held onto his youngest son, all the while his eldest watched on with concern for his dad. “I need you to go home, Rooster, we’ve got it from here.” 

“You don’t got anything, Seresin. Are you kidding me right now?” Bradley didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. But he’d seen Jake in this grief-fueled spiral long enough to know that his destructive and depressive mindset would end up causing more distress for the kids than intended. Jake was a good dad, that had never been questioned. Until now… Bradley wasn’t sure if his best friend could handle parenting three small children without a village to back him up. “The kids haven’t seen you in days–” 

“Would you rather them see me at my worst or not see me at all?” Jake’s grief was eating away at him. So much so that Jake began to wish each time he closed his eyes he’d get to stay with the version of you his mind had envisioned. “I’m fine, I’ve got it from here,” Jake sighed as he hugged little Sammy with all the strength that he had. “I wasn’t, but I’m fine now and I just wanna spend time with the kids.” 

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now man,” Bradley replied as he caught sight of Lucy coming down the hall. She’d been sleeping much like her father was. Great, all three Seresin children were present for their father’s impending breakdown. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bradshaw.” This hadn’t been the first confrontation Jake and Bradley had gotten into while Bradley had been staying in Rhode Island as the Seresin kid’s personal live-in nanny. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. The only difference this time was the kids were here to witness it. “I don’t need you here–”

“You aren’t thinking straight, just–how about the kids and I go for a walk or something and you sort yourself out? Have a shower? Shave? Drink something other than alcohol for–” Before Rooster could finish his sentence, Jake was placing Sam on the kitchen floor with a haste that didn’t sit right with Rooster. Lennox was the first to move from his chair. He was the spitting image of his father. 

“I don’t fucking care, Rooster!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. So loud and with such rage that the veins in his neck were popping as his skin turned a nice shade of ruby red. He took fast strides across the kitchen until Jake was standing toe to toe with his best friend. The very friend who’d been taking care of his children since before your passing. “I have to live the rest of my fucking live without the woman I love, so, cut me some godman slack before I knock your smug ass head from your shoulders.” 

Bradley didn’t move. He didn’t retaliate. He watched over Jake’s shoulder how his three children all cowered on the kitchen floor, scared of how their father yelled. Jake was oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t see the kids were struggling too. 

“Jake?” Bradley sighed as he placed his hands on either side of Jake’s face. “When the fuck are you gonna get through all this?” Braley asked softly as he remained calm. “When are you gonna wake up?” 

“Wake up?” Jake repeated as he pulled his face from his best friend's grip. “Wake up? Bradshaw, I died with my wife! There is no waking up from any of this!” 

“Maybe–” Bradley shrugged as he walked over to where the kids had been huddled together. It was only as Jake followed Bradley’s trajectory that he realised how much he’d scared his children. Something he never wanted to do. “There's always hope though.” 

“Kids,” Jake sighed as his tears began to fall. He dropped to his knees right then and there in the kitchen he wasn't familiar with. In a house that was now cold and dark without your constant radiating light to keep it warm and bright. “Guys, I'm sorry, huh–Dad didn't mean to raise his voice, he’s just–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, little Lennox was finishing his father’s sentence for him. 

“You’re just sick, dad.” 

“What?” Jake frowned as the kids made their way over to where Jake was kneeling on the tiles. 

“I said you’re just sad, Dad,” Lennox replied once more as he gave his dad a hug. “We’ll take care of you.” 

************************

December 31st 

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. 

Things had changed since Jake fell mind, body and soul into an unimaginably deep hole of depression. So much so that days had become to feel like one long dream. A paradox of grief and manic love. Your mother had told Jake to feel every ounce of emotion he had locked away. Maz had told him that grief was just someone’s residual love with nowhere else to go. 

Once Jake was able to understand that the pain of losing you was his love for you, he understood why it hurt so deeply on a cellular level. He understood why it hurt to look at the children he’d created with you. He understood why the kids had wanted to sit and open the small, still-wrapped Christmas present Lenny had found in Jake’s bag when he was looking for his dad’s wallet. 

Because it was one of the last things you ever gifted someone. It was one of your last acts on earth. 

“What did Mum get you for Christmas, Daddy?” Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable. 

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would. 

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet,” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it, Dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it. 

“Alright, I’d better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest. 

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it. 

“Hey, Dad?” Lucy’s voice sounded completely different to anything Jake had ever heard before. She was looking right at him yet her eyes were trained on something one hundred miles away. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jake replied just as he was about to open the present you’d given him before his life was turned upside down. 

“You need to wake up now,” Lucy’s voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t her own. “You’ve had enough time here,” 

“What are you talking about Lu?” Jake frowned as he looked at his daughter. An extension of himself and you. “Lucy? Are you feeling okay?” 

“You’ll be a good dad soon,” Lucy smiled as she unwrapped the small ring box in Jake’s hand. The ring box that held what Jake assumed to be your engagement ring. But as little Lucy opened the wrapping, a blinding light burst through the cracks. A light so bright it forced Jake to squint. 

“Please wake up, honey,” Jake heard your voice clear as day as Lucy opened the ring box to send a piercing white light into the living room. Jake was completely captured by the light around him. So much so the entire room was drowned in a light so pure it was crystal clear. He couldn’t see a single thing beyond the all-encompassing white. 

“Please wake up for us,” again your voice was the only thing Jake could hear in the void he found himself in. 

“Y/n?” Jake called out into the void around him. He could feel his ribcage breaking like he couldn't breathe. Every breath he took was agony. “Hello?” Yet he could hear your voice. A voice he longed for. A voice he had to get back to. Jake had to get to you. 

“I’m here, you’re alright,” Jake once again heard your angelic siren song. His head began to throb. The feeling was agonising. Like there was no more room for swelling. 

“Where are you?” Jake called out as he stumbled in the light. The smell of burning flesh mixed with jet fuel overcame Jake’s senses. His need to get to you was more powerful than the deep bone ache he could feel in his legs. There was nothing on earth or beyond that would stop Jake from getting to wherever the hell you were calling him from. His entire body ached with a pain so unimaginable it sent him to his knees. Crawling, Jake cried out for you just one more time. 

“Y/n!?” Jake called out once more in a desperate attempt to find you in the void. “Kids?” 

“Here he comes,” Bradley’s voice echoed out as Jake looked up towards where he assumed the sky would be. The glare was too much. Jake placed his forearms over his forehead to soften the brightness. “Come on Hangman, don't leave us out to dry.” 

Some people spend their whole lives trying to make a dream come true. They set a goal and make a plan on how to achieve it. It works for some people. But for others, it’s not so easy. As hard as they work toward the dream, it can feel like the whole world has plotted against them. 

As someone gets further and further away from the dream, people begin to cling to any sign of hope. And the longer it takes and the more it costs…you start to consider whether you should give up. Do you find a new dream? Or do you stick to the one that started you on this journey in the first place? 

For Jake, things weren’t as black and white. 

As Jake closed his eyes and took one painful last breath in, he felt as if he’d fallen from cloud nine. When he opened his eyes, the light was still there….But he wasn’t.

Jake’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest hint of light creeping through the haze of his mind. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign as if it wasn’t entirely his own. The weight of unconsciousness clung to him, reluctant to release its hold. Slowly, he became aware of the sounds around him—

“Jake, It’s me, can you hear me?”

**********************

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[starkwlkr]

Could you do fic for Mark Webber with wife reader? (He's Oscar's manager) And they both acted like dad & mom toward Lando and Oscar, especially. Just them spending time together and worries for the boys whenever something goes wrong. Mark does his best to comfort her. Just something fluff and cute. Maybe a little surprise for Mark at the end. I'll let you decide what it was. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :))

work parents | mark webber

thanks for the request!! @pear-1206

When you and Mark were dating, you supported him throughout his career in F1. Now that you were married and had a teenage daughter, you were supporting another person in F1, Oscar. He was young, talented and skilled. You were sure that in a couple of years he would be world champion. You tried to attend as many races as you could, mostly during the summer since your and Mark’s daughter was out of school. Your daughter was studying in Harvard at the moment meaning you and Mark haven’t seen her since spring break. She had secretly made plans to surprise you and Mark at the race. Oscar was the one that had gotten her a paddock pass.

It was Oscar’s first home race so you knew you had to attend. It was going to be a special one after all. You got up early to start getting ready while Mark was getting a few extra minutes of sleep.

Mark still asleep shirtless. He looked so peaceful that you didn’t want to bother him considering he arrived home late the night before, but you had a tight schedule to follow. You walked to the bed and gently placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Mark, you have to get up, honey. Oscar might already be waiting for us at the track. It’s race day.”

“Give me five minutes.” He mumbled.

“I’ll let you do anything when we get back—” You couldn’t even finish since Mark had gotten immediately.

“We wouldn’t want to keep Oscar waiting, hurry up, love.” He tried to give you a morning kiss but you stopped him. “What? Don’t act like you care about morning breath now.”

“I already put on lipstick—”

“And you can put it on again. I want to kiss my wife.” You rolled your eyes, but gave in.

As Mark got ready, you made sure you had your paddock passes. Eventually you made it out of the house and now you were on your way to the circuit. Mark had his hand on your thigh while the other was on the steering wheel. When you made it to the paddock entrance, Oscar was waiting with his girlfriend Lily.

“Hi, I hope we didn’t keep you waiting for too long.” You said as you exited the car. “Lily, so great to see you again.” You greeted the girl.

“Hi Mrs. Webber, great to see you too.” Lily replied.

The group of four made their way into paddock, greeting fans and photographers. Mark held your hand making you remember the times when you were still dating and Mark was still racing. You followed Mark and Oscar to the Mclaren garage since Lily had excused herself to go to the Mclaren motorhome. It felt nice to be back.

“Mrs. Webber!” Lando greeted you as soon as he saw you. “Lovely to see you as always.”

“Hi Lando.” You hugged the Brit.

“No mini Webber today?” He asked when he noticed your daughter wasn’t with you.

“No, she’s in Massachusetts. She sends luck to both of you though.” Mark responded.

Oscar wasn’t one to spill secrets, but when he knew something that he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, he would act nervous. He absolutely hated it.

“She is? Nice, right? Who would’ve thought that mini Webber would go to Harvard!” Lando and Oscar were both called by Zak so they excused themselves from the couple.

“Okay . . .” You brushed it off as him being nervous about the race. You scooted closer to Mark. “First home race must be getting to him.” You whispered.

“I’ll take care of him, love.”

“Don’t forget about Lando.”

The 2023 Australian Grand Prix was one big chaotic mess and you were there to witness it. It felt like a rollercoaster of emotions when the race was restarted again. After three red flags and 58 laps, Max had won.

“P8 for Oscar, what a race.” Mark said, sitting beside you. “You can let go of my hand now, honey, race is over.” He gestured to your hand that tightly held his. He couldn’t remember what lap you decided to hold it, but he didn’t mind.

“Thank fuck. I thought I was going to have a heart attack or something.” You let go. “I just wish my baby girl was here.”

“She’ll be home soon. Summer is just around the corner and then we’ll have a moody teen girl with a coffee addiction in our house. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

When Oscar got back to the garage, you and Mark were there to celebrate his points. “You did so well! Good job, Osc!” You hugged the driver.

“Thank you, Mrs. Webber.” Oscar smiled.

“Oh! Where’s Lando? Was it P6 or 7? Who cares? Points for the Mclaren boys!” You cheered as you left to go find Lando. Lando’s race engineer had told you that the driver was in his driver’s room so you walked to the room in search of the Brit.

As you were about to knock on the door, Lando and your daughter came out. Talk about perfect timing. . .

“Mum . . Hi.” Your daughter laughed nervously.

“Listen, I love you to death but what are you doing here? You should be in Boston!” You scolded the girl.

“This sounds like a family matter so I’m just going to go.” Lando tried to leave it you stepped in front of him. “Hi Mrs. Webber.” He innocently said.

“Good job on getting points.” You sighed and gave him a hug. “Now care to explain?”

“It was her idea! I am the true victim here!”

“You jerk!”

“Okay! Stop it.” You raised your voice. “Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

“I wanted to surprise you and dad by coming here and Lando and Oscar were helping me so I hid here. I’m only here for a couple days . . I missed you guys.” She explained.

“Yeah, what she said.” Lando added.

“We missed you too. I am definitely surprised and dad will be too. Come on, we have to celebrate the Mclaren boys scoring points!” You grabbed your daughters hand and walked together to meet up with Mark and Oscar.

Lando stayed behind a bit confused. “You’re not mad at me, right Mrs. Webber?”

[hottiesforhockey]

home for the holidays ⎜j.marino

🎄pairings: john marino x afab!reader 🎄genre: romance ⎜fluff ⎜ 🎄warnings: none! tbh this is just cute and fluffy 🎄synopsis: when you reunite with you "best friend" after months apart since his trade to Utah - neither of you realised how much you really needed each other. 🎄word count: 3.7k 🎄authors note:  this was supposed to have smut but it just didn't feel right - maybe I'll post a NYE part 2? who knows? not me.

(unedited)

“Our flight from New Jersey to Salt Lake City, Utah will begin to start disembarking the plane in just a moment - we want to thank you all for choosing us for your travels today and are wishing you a very happy holidays.” The flight attendants voice rings through the plane, everyone slowly releasing their seatbelts as the light switches off. 

You settle into your seat, pulling out your phone and switching it off airplane mode as you wait for the plane to clear up before grabbing your own stuff from the overhead luggage and slowly joining the cue of people trying to leave the plane. Your phone buzzes to life as the signal returns, lighting up with a mix of notifications and texts. You quickly glance through them, your heart skipping when you see a message from John.

Johnny 🦷: Wish you were coming with me tonight. Christmas parties are so much better when you have someone to get drunk with. 

You bite your lip, suppressing a grin.

If only he knew what was about to hit him. 

Your phone dings again, this time the notification from you co-conspirator, Sean, who had been more then willing to help you get to Utah and invite you to the christmas party if only to “get John to shut the fuck up about his pretty best friend.” — his words, not yours. 

Sean Durzi (johns teammate) : I hope you had a safe flight - if we pull this off tonight we’ll be going down in history.

Sean Durzi (johns teammate) : I can’t wait to show Mr Harvard that he’s not the only smart guy on the team. 

You walk through the airport as fast as you can, dodging people left right and centre as you make your way to the baggage claim, quickly locating and dragging your slightly oversized suitcase off the carousel, gently pushing your way through the growing crowd of people, the sign for the pick up zone catching your attention. 

The confused brunette with an oversized piece of cardboard hovering awkwardly by the exit doors, his gaze shooting to every girl who walk through them his head shaking as he decides it’s not the person he’s looking for. “Sean?” You question as you step forwards, his eyes meeting yours as his face lights up, his hand waving quickly in the air as he rushes forwards to take your suitcase from you. 

“God, I spent like two hours last night stalking your instagram so I’d know which one was you.” He says quickly with a soft laugh, your head tilting in confusion at his friendly approach. “I should’ve given you a heads up but practice finished early so I thought I’d swing by and take you to your hotel.” He explains. 

You can't help but laugh, shaking your head as you let him take the suitcase from your hand. "Stalking my Instagram, huh? You hockey players really know how to make a first impression." Sean grins, completely unbothered. 

"Hey, it worked, didn’t it? Otherwise, I’d probably still be standing there like an idiot, waiting for some random stranger to claim me."

You chuckle, falling in step beside him as he leads the way to the parking lot. "Well, I appreciate the ride. This whole thing already feels like some kind of undercover operation."

"Oh, it totally is," Sean replies, his voice laced with mischief. "But don’t worry, I’m the king of covert missions. John has absolutely no idea what’s coming, and honestly, I can’t wait to see his face. He’s been impossible all week—talking about you non-stop."

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words, but you try to play it cool. "He talks about me that much, huh?"

Sean gives you a knowing look as he pops the trunk of his car open. "Are you kidding? It’s borderline embarrassing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the only girl in existence."

You snort, helping him hoist your suitcase into the car. "Well, thanks for letting me crash the party. Hopefully, it lives up to the hype."

Sean slams the trunk shut, shooting you a sly grin. "Oh, it will. And when you walk in there? John’s going to lose his mind. I mean, sure, the party’s technically about Christmas, but let’s be real—it’s about to turn into the John Gets Absolutely Wrecked by His Crush Gala."

You roll your eyes, sliding into the passenger seat as Sean starts the car. "You’re way too confident about this."

He shrugs, pulling out of the parking lot with ease. "Confidence is key, my friend. Besides, I’ve seen how John looks at you. If this doesn’t work, I’ll eat my skates."

You laugh, leaning back in your seat as you take in the view of the snow-dusted streets outside. The thought of seeing John again sends a mix of nerves and excitement through you, but Sean’s easy humour helps keep you grounded.

As the car weaves through the city streets, you can’t help but ask, "So, any last-minute tips for surviving a hockey Christmas party?" Sean smirks, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. 

"Just stick with me. I’ll make sure you’re not dragged into any ridiculous drinking games—or at least, not without proper backup. And if John tries to play it cool, don’t let him. He’s a terrible liar when it comes to you."

You laugh again, the nerves in your chest starting to ease as you realise you might just survive this night after all. With Sean by your side and a perfectly executed plan in motion, you’re ready to face whatever—or whoever—this party throws at you. 

The drive to the hotel is filled with more of Sean’s lighthearted banter, and you’re grateful for how easily he puts you at ease. It’s clear why he’s the team’s resident troublemaker; his charm and quick wit are impossible to ignore. As you pull up to the sleek hotel, you can’t help but feel a wave of anticipation for the night ahead.

Sean parks and hops out, grabbing your suitcase from the trunk before you can even protest. “Alright,” he says, grinning as he wheels it up to the entrance, “I’ll let you get settled, but don’t take too long. we’ve got a party to crash.”

You smirk, taking the handle from him. “Thanks for the ride, Sean. I’ll see you in an hour?”

“Make it forty-five minutes. Any later, and I’ll send John up to look for you,” he quips, throwing you a wink before heading back to his car.

Inside your room, you unpack just enough to find your outfit for the party. You’d chosen it carefully—festive, flattering, but not over the top. After a quick shower, you take your time getting ready, nerves bubbling beneath the surface as you think about seeing John. Sean’s words replay in your head: 

"He talks about you non-stop." 

By the time Sean texts that he’s waiting downstairs, you’ve managed to talk yourself in and out of a hundred different scenarios. You grab your clutch and head down, finding him leaning casually against the car, dressed in a sharp sweater and jeans that scream “effortlessly cool.”

“Well, look at you,” he teases as you approach. “John’s gonna lose it.”

“Let’s hope that’s a good thing,” you reply, slipping into the passenger seat once more.

The party venue is bustling when you arrive—glittering lights, festive music, and a sea of people already mingling. Sean navigates the crowd like a pro, introducing you to a few teammates as you make your way toward the bar. The room feels alive with energy, but your focus keeps drifting toward the door, half-expecting John to appear at any moment.

You spot John before he sees you, his tall frame standing out in the crowd as he laughs at something a teammate says. He’s dressed casually, his dark sweater clinging just right, and the sight of him sends a jolt through you. Sean must notice your sudden silence because he nudges you with a grin.

“Go say hi,” he urges.

“I’m nervous.” You hiss, turning your back towards where John stands in the crowd, taking a long sip of your drink before placing it back on the bar. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sean sighs, his hand slapping against his forehead as he turns to lean against the bar with you. “How can you be nervous? He’s your best friend, right?” Sean lets out another long sigh before adding, “You came all this way, you can’t ruin my big brain gift now.” 

“Okay, Okay just give me a second.” You hiss, smoothing out the skirt on your dress, reaching over a taking a big swig of Sean drink wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. “Okay, I’m ready.” You confirm, turning away from the bar to begin stalking towards your best friend. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Sean yells enthusiastically. 

You weave through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. As you approach John, your steps falter slightly, nerves threatening to freeze you in place. He still hasn’t noticed you, his head tipped back in laughter at something someone nearby has said. For a moment, you simply watch him, the familiar sight tugging at something deep in your chest.

Finally, you muster the courage and step into his line of vision. “Hey, stranger.”

John glances over, his laughter dying down as his eyes land on you. There’s a split second of confusion, his brow furrowing slightly as if his brain is struggling to catch up. Then, recognition dawns, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Is it…?” His voice trails off, and for a moment, he’s frozen. Then, before you can say another word, he closes the distance between you in a few quick strides, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, desperate hug.

You barely have time to react before you’re pressed against him, his familiar scent filling your senses. His hands grip you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go, his voice a breathless whisper against your hair. “You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” you manage to say, your voice muffled against his chest. The tension in his embrace speaks volumes—relief, disbelief, and something deeper that you can’t quite name.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms as if he needs to convince himself you’re not a mirage. “Why didn’t you tell me? When did you get here? God, I—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head with a disbelieving laugh before pulling you back in for another tight hug, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispers into your hair. “I really needed this.”

Before you can answer, Sean’s voice cuts through the moment. “Hey, lovebirds!” You glance back to see him leaning casually against the bar, his grin practically glowing. “Don’t thank me all at once, but I’ll take a drink when you’re done being dramatic.”

John lets out a shaky laugh, glancing from Sean back to you. “Wait—you’re here because of him?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “His idea. Apparently, he’s better at surprises than I gave him credit for.” John’s smile softens, and without another word, he pulls your hand into his—his palm warm and all encompassing as he smiles down at you.

“I missed you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. And just like that, the months of distance and uncertainty dissolve into the warmth of his arms.

You don’t pull away, letting yourself sink into the familiarity of him. The noise and lights around you blur, the weight of his arms anchoring you in the moment. For a fleeting second, you wonder if he can feel your heart racing against his chest.

His eyes scan every inch of you, like he’s memorising the details all over again. “You look… different.” He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Good different. Like, really good.”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you look down with a nervous laugh. “It’s only been a few months.” You say softly, “and it’s probably just the dress. Sean made me wear it. Something about making you ‘lose it.’”

At that, John groans dramatically, running a hand through his hair as he glances over at Sean. “I’m gonna kill him,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in his tone.

Sean, who’s been watching with the smug satisfaction of someone who’s orchestrated this entire moment, raises his drink in a mock toast. “You’re welcome!” he calls out.

John just shakes his head, turning his attention back to you. His expression softens again, his voice dropping so it’s just for you. “I really missed you. You have no idea.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “I missed you too,” you admit quietly. “Every day.”

He exhales a laugh, though there’s an edge of disbelief to it, like he can’t quite believe you’re standing in front of him. “I’ve been trying to act like everything’s fine, but it hasn’t been. Not without you.” Your stomach flips at his honesty, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. The two of you just stand there, caught in a bubble of shared history and unspoken feelings. It’s as if the room and its occupants have ceased to exist.

“So…” His voice is hesitant now, his usual confidence faltering. “Does this mean you’re staying? Or is this just a visit?”

You hesitate, the weight of the question almost too much. You know what he’s really asking, even if he won’t say it outright. Your throat tightens as you try to find the right words. Before you can answer, a cheerful voice interrupts, breaking the moment like a sudden gust of wind. “John! We’re doing shots—oh, wait, who’s this?” A teammate sidles up, clearly already a few drinks in, his grin wide as he eyes you.

John stiffens slightly, but his hand finds its way to the small of your back, grounding you. “This is—” He pauses, his voice catching for just a second before he says your name, the syllables soft and reverent. “She’s… my best friend.”

There’s something in the way he says it—almost a claim, as if the title isn’t quite enough but it’s the best he can manage right now. His teammate raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press, shrugging before disappearing back into the crowd.

John turns back to you, his hand lingering at your back. “Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly. “I guess I’m not ready to share you yet.” The warmth of his touch and the way his words hang in the air make your pulse quicken.

 “It’s okay,” you say softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere.”

His eyes search yours for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in them. Then he nods, his lips curling into a smile that’s equal parts relief and something deeper. “Good.”

The moment lingers, his hand still resting lightly at the small of your back, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go. His eyes flick to the crowd, scanning for a place to retreat. “Come on,” he says, his voice low, intimate. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

You nod, grateful for the reprieve, and let him guide you through the sea of partygoers. Sean catches your eye as you pass, waggling his eyebrows like the shameless matchmaker he is. You roll your eyes but can’t fight the small laugh that escapes you.

John leads you to a corner of the venue where the noise softens and the lights are a little dimmer. A few chairs are scattered around, but neither of you seems inclined to sit. Instead, he turns to face you, his hands finding your arms gently, as if grounding himself.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says again, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to picture this for months, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

“Well, here I am,” you reply, your voice light but your chest tight with the weight of everything unspoken between you. “Surprise.”

“Yeah, surprise,” he echoes, his smile fading slightly as his eyes search yours. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that you’ve rarely seen before, something raw and unguarded. “I meant what I said earlier. It’s been hard without you. Really hard.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words hitting you all over again. “I know,” you admit softly. “It’s been hard for me too. I kept trying to tell myself it was the right thing to do—to give you time to settle in. But it just... didn’t feel right.”

“It wasn’t right,” he says immediately, his grip on your arms tightening just slightly. “I mean, I get why you were hesitant. I do. But you’re—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching as he struggles to find the words. “without you, it felt like I lost the best part of my life.”

The raw honesty in his voice makes your chest ache. “John…”

“I know I shouldn’t say this,” he continues, his words rushing out like he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve if he stops. “But I’ve thought about it a lot—what I’d say if I ever got the chance to see you again. And the truth is, I don’t just want to go back to the way things were. I want… more.”

Your heart skips a beat, his words crashing over you like a wave. For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, your thoughts spinning wildly.

John seems to take your silence as hesitation, his expression faltering. He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. That was— I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to make things weird, especially not tonight.”

“No,” you say quickly, stepping forward to close the distance he’s put between you. Your hand finds his, stopping him mid-gesture. “Don’t apologise. I’m just… processing.”

His eyes lock onto yours, searching for something—hope, reassurance, maybe both. “And?”

You take a deep breath, your pulse thundering in your ears. “And… you’re not the only one who’s thought about more,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to be heard over the noise around you.

For a moment, neither of you moves. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face, so genuine and full of relief it takes your breath away. “Yeah?” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.”

He exhales a shaky laugh, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin, and his touch sends a shiver through you. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he murmurs.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours—soft at first, tentative, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away. But the moment your body leans into his, his hesitation melts away, replaced by something deeper, more desperate. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers threading gently through your hair as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss.

The rest of the world falls away as his other hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, until there’s not even a sliver of space between you. The heat of his body against yours sends a shiver through you, and your hands instinctively grip his sweater, anchoring yourself to him. His lips move against yours with a mix of urgency and reverence, as though he’s been waiting for this moment for far too long.

Somewhere in the haze of the kiss, you hear the hum of the crowd, the faint clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter. It’s a reminder that you’re still in the middle of the party, but John doesn’t seem to care. He shifts slightly, guiding you with him until your back is against the wall, partially hidden by a column and the shadow it casts. The movement is subtle but intentional, creating a bubble where it feels like it’s just the two of you.

His hand on your waist tightens, and he presses his forehead against yours for a brief second, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch his breath. His eyes meet yours, dark and intense, his voice a low murmur that sends a ripple through you. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You can barely find your voice, your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else. “Then don’t stop,” you whisper, your hands still clutching at his sweater.

A soft, almost relieved laugh escapes him, and then his lips are on yours again, this time with a confidence that makes your knees weak. The kiss is slower now, more deliberate, his touch lingering like he’s savouring every second. His thumb brushes against the curve of your jaw, his breath mingling with yours as he leans into you, every inch of him focused on you like nothing else in the world exists.

When he finally pulls back, his lips just barely brushing yours, his gaze searches your face, his expression soft but filled with something raw and unspoken. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion.

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his words, and you reach up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing against the faint stubble there. “I think you’ve made it clear,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his gaze locking onto yours. “This doesn’t feel real,” he admits, his fingers grazing your waist like he’s reassuring himself you’re really there. “Tell me this isn’t just for tonight.”

You shake your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m home for the holidays” you promise, the words heavy with meaning. Relief floods his features, and he pulls you into another hug, holding you close like he never wants to let go. This time, there’s no urgency, just quiet contentment, the kind that comes from finally finding what you’ve been searching for.

[lucysgraybird]

modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 2 here, part 3 here

notes: this is not set in panem -- if you're looking for a vibe, think harvard/uchicago/any of the old-guard, upper echelon US universities. i have another part in the works that i'll post tomorrow or thursday. also i promise that they both have some crazy in them . It will appear in later parts

“Please remember that I cannot accept late work for this essay,” your professor says as everyone packs up. “The deadline is the deadline for work for the semester, so everything has to be submitted by then. This includes any outstanding work you might have.”

She shoots a look at a boy in the front row when she says that, and he bows his head.

“Have a wonderful weekend, and I'll see you all Monday.”

You shove your laptop in your bag, sling it across your body, and make a beeline for the exit. This is your last class of the day and you have no intention of spending any more time in a lecture hall than you have to. Just as you're about to leave the building, someone catches you by the shoulder and pulls you back.

“Excuse you,” you mutter, turning to see who would do something so…well, to put it diplomatically, bold.

There stands a boy with a shock of hair so blonde it's nearly white and eyes so blue they're nearly translucent. It would be eerie if he didn't wear it well: angular and bright, it's like he's been carved from the purest block of ice. His pale features are offset by the rich ruby of his sweater. He looks royal, though you'd think a prince wouldn't go around grabbing girls by their arms.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I've been wanting to talk to you for weeks, but you always fly out of the building and I didn't want to miss you this time.”

“Talk to me? About what?”

God willing, not about some group project that had slipped your mind. You're so careful about organization, but sometimes things slip through the cracks.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

“Who are you?”

His eyebrows (the only dark thing on his face) twitch, and you wonder if he's so arrogant as to assume you'd know who he is. He doesn't say anything, though, just extending a hand to you.

“Coriolanus Snow. Pleasure.”

You shake his hand, finding the official-ness of it a little odd. When you open your mouth to introduce yourself, he stops you.

“I realize this is going to sound…odd, but I do know who you are. You're the only person I listen to in that insipid class.”

“Oh.”

Because honestly, what are you supposed to say to that?

“Let me take you to dinner, please,” Coriolanus says. “At least for the conversation.”

Your pause must spur him on, because he continues, “And you're gorgeous. Honestly, you caught my eye before you even started speaking, and then…well.”

He's very forward, but it doesn't come off as desperate. He carries himself with such a confident air that if he hadn't tried to be suave, it would've been more awkward.

You allow yourself to be flattered, offering him a soft laugh. His poise must be a front, at least a little, and you can put up a façade too.

“Why, thank you, Coriolanus. I'd love to go out with you, but I'm so busy with finals coming up…”

This is partly true – you're taking the maximum number of credits your advisor would let you, which is over the credit load the school has set, so you have a good deal of work to do. However, you're not above playing a little hard-to-get, especially if you are interested in the person. Half the fun of a hunt is the chase.

“All the more reason to go out. I know a spot if you're free tonight – one more bit of fun before hitting the books?”

“What kind of fun, Mr. Snow?”

“Well, we'll see where the night takes us, if that's a yes.”

It can't hurt, right?

“It's a yes. I'll text you my address?” You extend your phone to him, a delicate smile gracing your lips.

“Perfect,” he says, putting in his number. “I'll pick you up at 7:30. Wear something nice.”

“Where are we going?”

“A surprise, but it's very classy. You'll love it.”

You can't wait to look this guy up when you get home. “I'm looking forward to it. See you tonight."

“See you tonight.”

—

“Classy” is an unhelpful dress code, you're discovering. It refers to such a range of places, so you're left to take a guess and hope you don't make some sort of grave faux pas. You're limited in being overdressed as a university student, so you select the nicest thing you brought from home. It's a wine-coloured dress that skims just the middle of your calves, with a cowl at the neck and a sweeping back that shows a tasteful (yet tempting, you hope) amount of skin. With a thin necklace and some earrings, you could fit in at most “nice” restaurants that would be appropriate for a first date with a nigh-stranger.

At 7:25, you slip on your coat and heels and head down to the lobby of your apartment building. Something tells you that Coriolanus has a tendency towards extreme punctuality, so you'd rather not keep him waiting a moment.

Just as you suspected, at 7:30 exactly the silhouette of a tall man appears at your door and your phone buzzes with a text.

Coriolanus Snow: I'm here.

When you open the door, he is, indeed, there, holding a bouquet of white roses and wearing a red vest and slacks with a white dress shirt. He is nothing if not coordinated, you suppose.

“Ah,” he says. “Hello. These are for you.”

It is a lovely gesture, and it garners a genuine blush from you while you accept the bouquet. “Thank you. They're gorgeous. I didn't even know they made white roses.”

He offers his elbow to you, which you accept. Though it's odd, there's something sweet about his anachronistic nature. You, like any college girl, have had many a bad first date, and it's pleasant to have one with a man who is, at the least, polite.

“My grandmother grows them. I dropped by and picked these up on my way here. You look wonderful, by the way.”

“Oh! Thank you. I wasn't quite sure what to wear because I don't know where we're going, so I'm glad I chose well.” You glance over at his outfit. “We match, sort of.”

“So we do.”

He smiles in a way that's almost indescribable – it's not quite aloof, though it has some of the same calculation behind it. It actually feels incredibly personal, and sets your heart racing. Why this boy gets under your skin the way he does – the way no one has before – is something you have yet to discover.

Your walk with him ends at a black car, for which he opens the back door and allows you to climb in before following you. A scan of social media earlier had turned up tragically few results, and every single thing Coriolanus does makes you more curious about him. He settles next to you.

“So are you a polisci major, or are you just taking the one class?” You ask, unwilling to let silence be for more than a moment.

“Polisci and philosophy,” he replies. “My goal is law school directly after college, and then politics.”

“I should've guessed,” you say.

“Oh?”

“Not in a bad way. Just…you're very smooth. Well-spoken, attractive, all of that. You'd do well in politics.”

The corners of his lips turn in a slight smile. “You think I'm attractive?”

You laugh. “I certainly do, Coriolanus. I do have standards, you know.”

“Then I'm very glad I'm meeting them. Are you looking to do politics too, then, or…?”

“Honestly, not right now. I think I might stick to academia for a while. I don't have the stomach for pandering that you have to have for politics.”

“It's my least favourite part, honestly. I did some work for a senator last summer and the endless word-parsing drove me insane. No one ever says what they mean.”

“Right. The image of it all is fun, though. Like playing a character. But you don't have to do politics to do that.”

Coriolanus nudges his knee against yours. “Are you putting on an image for me right now?”

“A lady never tells. Are you putting on one for me?”

When you turn, he's a lot closer than you expected. You can see the spires in his irises, like cracked moonstones, and can smell his cologne: whiskey and spice and something woody, clean.

“You'll just have to find out,” he says, his voice low in his chest. It's said as a secret – there's no one else in the car, but it's as though if he says it too loud the leather of the seats might remember. These words were for your ears only, the rumble meant to coast across just your skin, and you shudder.

[hellodragonkit]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Opinions and Points.

SPOILERS... obviously.

Ok I watched the movie, and ... some things that are my own personal thoughts and possible points I noticed. And some things I have seen others point out to where this is just my over all opinion and its kinda long.

The backstory lets not forget beetle is a unreliable narrator as proven by the first movie as Julliard and Harvard did not exist while he was alive, and unless he was possessing someone when they graduated its unlikely he said the truth. - so I don't think he gave us the full backstory. Maybe yes he did marry her, but given he never dies on screen and previously stated point. I just find it hard to believe that he drank a poison then had enough strength to chop her up as much as she was, if it was actually effecting him. i find it far more possible he had already been poisoned so often he was immune at that point. and was just pissed his new wife tried to do him in. Also in first movie it was suggested with the red mark he hung himself... maybe he tried to take over the death cult and had to do himself in for a quicker death?

the Newspapper. Yes it did say people were falsely accused of offing themselves at death, I think this was to help clear up the plot hole that would have been with Astrid's dad. And maybe be a red haring for Beetle. Next few points are BeetleBabes related so if you don't like the ship, please move on.

He gave her autonomy in his power. During the therapist scene when he "sewn" her mouth shut, it was less truly sewn and more duct taped. She had the ability to remove it, yeah he had it stick long enough for a gag, but not much more. He didn't force her.

The Contract and Nullification of it. Beetle wrote the contract, and he worked as a dead con man for years, he knew the handbook inside and out. He wrote up the contract for Lydia to sign and save her daughter, knowing there was a Massive Loop hole. even blowing a hole in the "back door" of the Neither to insure the loop hole was as big as it could be the second he had her sign, obviously with a bit of theatrics for both signing and explosions. But would we expect anything else from him?

Delia calling him: when Delia died, she called him asking to go to Lyd's wedding. He did so no questions no strings. Any other deal he always asked for something in return but for Lyd's step mom he didn't charge a dime, possibly because he felt Lyds would be upset if she missed it, and didn't get to say good bye.

Rory Beetle obviously didn't like him, could tell he was scamming Lyds, and yeah he probably could have sent him off but instead had to prove to Lydia why that guy was bad, hence why he used truth serum. He need to make sure she wouldn't go back to that guy once he was gone again. It was even hinted he heard her talking in the graveyard rushing to the church that she was not ready to marry.

He planed to go away. His song at the end, was not one of love and togetherness. MacArthur Park is more of loss and remorse. He was saying Goodbye to Lydia! Not permanently anyway

He set up sending away Deloris and helped the contract become Null When Deloris burst in through the door, the wind didn't effect Lydia, or Beetle, or Delia but the book slid to Astrid as easily as it had moved away, He moved it to her, conveniently on the page to summon sand-worms and how to brake the contract.

He stalled for the cops I find it funny how in the first movie he summoned a Man of the cloth and the guests. But this time he had both, and unlike the first time he wasn't rushing... he took his time to sing a whole song and to let the Neither cops show up, possibly also baiting Deloris to take care of her but I'm still not sure on that bit. ether way He had won, he had Lydia, the pastor, and guests. But instead he did a song and dance, a song that I already pointed out was one more of goodbye.

He let Lydia send him away. Beetle loves to make a entrance, he also may love to make a exit. he has also shown he can silence someone for just saying his name once. But instead of silencing her or taking over her voice as he had before. He started a dramatic plea, showing her he was getting sent away, showing her he was going to let her send him off.

The ending given the fact he may have over heard about Rory, And all the other notes, he could probably see Lydia wasn't wanting marriage at that time. But I also feel... he just likes the chase. What fun would it be if the Coyote already caught the road runner? he didn't mind her sending him away, because it means he could keep trying to get her to call him willingly. Over all this is just my ramblings that I don't have any friends irl who may appreciate them or be able to properly counter lol And if you made it this far thank you. And I hope you liked the movie as much as I did.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Skyward Bound Hearts

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Pairing: Billy "Fritz" Avalone x F!Reader

Summary: After getting a new job, you move in with your best friend, Billy. You end up meeting some of his Top Gun buddies and while Billy was okay with being just friends, it isn't until his friends showing interest in you that he finally decides to change the status of your relationship.

Manny Jacinto Characters Masterlist

"Hey!" Billy waves at you from his porch as you roll up in the moving truck. You practically collapse into his arms when he opens the door. Long hours driving a large moving truck can have that effect on you.

"I hope to never be in a moving truck for...the rest of my life," you state as you look at your best friend. His cropped black hair, tanned skin, wide smile, and overall handsome face. Just like you remember.

"How are you, Bills?" you asking, ruffling this hair.

He chuckles, running a hand through his now messy hair, "You know how I'm doing. We talk almost every day."

You shrug, "Yeah, but it's different face to face, dumbo," you pinch his nose and head to the back of the truck, lifting the rolling door up.

Billy follows you, arm wrapping around your shoulder and whistles, "That's...a lot of stuff." He puts his free hand on his hip, "You managed to fit all of this in your small apartment?"

"It's mainly all small stuff. Knowing you, your place looks boring and minimalistic as shit. I brought all of my stuff to bring some life to this place," you look at him with a grin and a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

He chuckles, shaking his head, "You never fail to bring some excitement in my life, Angel." He climbs into the truck's bed and starts handing you some boxes.

Thirty minutes into moving, you hear a honk and three cars roll up behind the truck. You arch a brow in confusion, looking back at Billy for answers, "Friends of yours?"

He shoots you a grin, "Figured we can use some help to get this done faster. Plus, you said you wanted to meet them." He hops out of the truck as soon as several men and two women exits the cars.

"Your saviors are here!" a tall, pretty boy looking man announces as he steps out of the driver's seat. He tilts the glasses on his face down to look your way.

You join Billy's side and murmur into his ear, "Let me guess, that's Hangman."

Billy snickers into his hand, "Yup."

You sigh, "Hate cocky, pretty boys."

He shrugs, "He can be...decent on occasion." He waves at his Navy buddies.

Hangman gives you a look that makes you roll your eyes, "Fritz, you didn't tell me how gorgeous your new roommate is!"

Everyone circles you and Billy and you give them an awkward wave, "Uh, hi, everyone. I'm Y/N."

"Billy said your name was Angel?" one of them says in a confused tone.

You chuckle, "It's a nickname Billy's mom gave me when we were kids. So he's always called me that."

"So you two have known each other a long time?" one of the women asks.

Billy nods, "Yup. Basically our whole lives. Our moms are best friends," he shoots you a familiar grin.

Hangman steps, "So you'd say you're more like siblings than anything, right?" he looks you up and down with a smirk.

You snort, putting your hand against his chest and pushing him back, "I'd just like to put it out there that my type isn't cocky pretty boys. So don't bother."

Everyone around you "ooouuuu", causing Hangman to feel embarrassed. He clears his throat and hollers, "Let's get this show on the road!" He pushes through the group and heads to the truck.

Everyone shakes their heads or rolls their eyes; and introduces themselves to you all by their call signs.

"Fanboy."

"Bob."

"Phoenix."

"Rooster."

"Yale."

"Payback."

"Omaha."

"Halo."

"Coyote."

"Harvard."

An assembly line is formed leading up to Billy's house and into your room. Boxes and furniture slowly fill up the space. It isn't until the sun starts setting that everything is out of the truck.

To celebrate the hard work done, you order pizza and Billy runs to grab beers for everyone.

Now you're all crowding the living room, lounging around, stuffing your face with greasy pizza and beer.

Throughout the day, you were able to chat and get to know Billy's friends. However, you clung mainly to Halo and Phoenix's side because there was waaay too much macho energy.

So in your small circle of girls, you two chat, while the boisterous group of guys chat, hollering playful banter to each other.

"They're always like this, aren't they?" you ask the women as you take a sip of beer.

They both nod, "Unfortunately so. But they're all good guys...save for Hangman, but you already knew that." Phoenix gives you a knowing look.

You snort, "Yeah, Bills would always talk about you guys, Hangman especially. So it's nice to put a face to all of the names I've been hearing for so long."

Halo speaks up, "So what's the story with you and Fritz?" She leans in with piqued interest.

You chuckle, "It's a long story, but, overall, our moms are best friends. They got pregnant around the same time. Billy was born a few months before me. We grew up together. Have stuck by each other's sides ever since."

"So why did you move down here?" Phoenix asks.

"I work for a non-profit org. They're opening offices in Southern California, one of them being here in San Diego. When I told Billy, he immediately offered his spare room for me. Now here we are!" you gesture to the area around you.

"So nothing ever happened between you and Fritz?" Phoenix asks with raised brows and an unconvinced expression.

"Well, I mean, there was a summer in high school-"

"Aaaand there it is," Halo and Phoenix clink their bottles together and both take a swig.

You roll your eyes, "It was short lived. A lot happened that summer and by the end, we both decided it was better if we were best friends and that's it."

"But do you still feel that way?" Halo asks with a pointed look.

You sigh, looking over to Billy who was now taking part in a drinking game with the guys. He's smiling wide and there's a red hue to his skin from the effects of the alcohol. There's a tug at your heart, a yearning that you've felt for so long.

"Well that look definitely answers your question, Halo," Phoenix says with a snort.

You slump, "Doesn't matter. We're still best friends and I'm happy to have him in my life in any way that I can."

_______________

Billy looks over to you as you, Halo, and Phoenix clink your beer bottles together and each take a sip.

He just watches as you chat and laugh with the women. A smile makes its way to his face as you snort, shoving Phoenix in the shoulder for making you laugh.

A shoulder bumps Billy's, catching his attention. He turns to see Fanboy standing there, "Hey, man," he says to the pilot.

Mickey nods towards you, "So, uh, Angel doesn't have anyone does she? No boyfriend, girlfriend, or some partner, right?"

His question makes Billy stand up straighter, "No, why?"

Rooster, watching the interaction snickers, "He's already sizing you up, Fanboy," he gives the fellow pilot a slap to the arm.

Fanboy holds his hands up, "Hey, I'm just wondering! And, you know, she seems cool. Thought I'd invite her out on a drink or something!"

Billy crosses his arms over his chest and cocks a brow at him, "Listen, Angel is important to me, so if you're really interested in her, be my guest, but don't bother if you're looking for a lay."

Fanboy shakes his head, "No, no. Nothing like that, I swear. It's just...we chatted a bit about Star Wars because I saw she had a few Funko Pops of some characters. Thought we could talk more about stuff like that."

Billy drops his arms and shrugs, "Go for it, man. But she'll put you through the ringer if you're a dick to her."

"Hey, I'm not like Hangman," he points to the blonde as his ball sinks into a cup.

Billy snorts, "Yeah and thank God for that."

___________________________

The next few days go by in a whirlwind of unpacking and having dinner with Billy. By the end of the week, you've unpacked a majority of your things. You've hung up a few pieces of framed artwork and pictures, placed a few of your knick knacks on shelves, and filled the fridge and pantry with your groceries of choice.

It’ll be your first day at the new office tomorrow. You were a little nervous because you didn't know anyone that'll be at this location, but you were also excited to begin decorating your cubicle.

To ease your worries, Billy decided to bring you to the Hard Deck for some celebratory drinks. No surprise there were several of his Naval buddies there.

You and Billy give them a wave before heading to your own table to be alone. That was short lived when Coyote and Fanboy approach you two.

"Heeeey! Mind if we join you guys?"

Billy gives an annoyed look and you snort, but shrug, "Not at all."

"Great! Lemme grab you a beer!" Fanboy scurries away to the counter where he asks Penny for a beer. She pops one open and slides to him. He hurries back and placing it before you, "For the lady!"

Billy looks at him confused with his arms out, "What about me?"

You giggle and push your drink to him, "Have mine. I'll get-"

"I got it!" Fanboy exclaims as he heads back to the counter for another beer.

You lean in to murmur to Billy, "He's laying it thick."

"Yeah. I told you, he wants to get to know you and be in my good graces."

You snort, "And how's that going?"

"He's annoying the hell outta me," he replies with a smirk and you burst out laughing. The smirk turns into a smile, a feeling of pride fills him as he made you laugh.

"What's funny?" Fanboy asks as he returns with your new bottle of beer.

"Inside joke," you and Billy respond, causing both of you to laugh more.

Coyote clears his throat, "You guys are really close, huh?"

Billy nods, "Yeah. You should've seen her when I had to go to boot camp. She sent me sooo many letters saying how much she misses me."

You roll your eyes, "You said you missed me too! And the second you were outta there and you were back to calling me almost every night!" you stuck your tongue out at him.

It's now Fanboy that clears his throat, "Sooo what're we drinking to?" he asks as he stands beside you.

"Angel starts her new job tomorrow, so I guess that."

Fanboy lifts his bottle up, "A toast to Angel and her new job!"

"Cheers!" the four of you say as you bump your bottles together.

After taking a few sips, Fanboy asks you, "Hey, uh, Angel, you wanna play a round of pool?"

You laugh, "Hell yeah. Get ready to lose, Fly Boy!" you take your beer and grab Fanboy's hand, leading him to the pool tables on the other side of the bar.

Billy watches as you rack up the balls, he takes a swig from his bottle.

"They'd make a cute couple," Coyote says which makes Billy choke on his drink.

"Jesus!" Billy coughs up liquid as Coyote is patting his back, "You good, man?"

Billy gasps for air as he nods, "Yup. Good. The comment just took me off guard."

Coyote raises a brow, "Does that bother you? The thought of Fanboy and Angel dating?"

Billy looks back at you as you sink a ball in. You pump the air and push Fanboy aside as he pouts. You giggle and pinch his cheek before lining up your next shot.

"I just...I want her happy. And I'm not sure if Fanboy could give her that just yet." He looks away and takes another sip of his beer.

"If I'm overstepping, let me know, but...you guys never dated, did you?"

Billy sighs, running his hand through his cropped black hair, "In high school. The summer after we graduated. We dated for a few months but then I decided to enlist and-"

"Aaaand you broke it off," Coyote finishes, "Do you regret breaking it off?"

"I-" he pauses when he hears your boisterous laugh. He looks across the bar to see you holding Fanboy's arm as you laugh. Fanboy looks like he won the jackpot from the way he was looking at you, happy to be the source of your enjoyment.

Billy sighs, "It doesn't matter. We're best friends. It's worked out great this long."

"But you want more?"

He shrugs, "Only if she does," he murmurs before looking away from you as Fanboy moves some of your hair out of your face, causing you to shy away from him.

___________________

You’re a little tipsy. You’re aware as you sway a little too much while walking into Billy’s place.

He sits you in the couch while he goes to get you some water. You practically melt into the cushions while waiting for him.

You hear a click and look up to see Billy pointing his phone at you, “Goddammit, Bills.”

He snickers, “Sorry. You just look so cute,” he shows you the picture of you curling up on the couch.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever,” pushing his phone away and taking the cup of water from him. You gulp the entire cup down.

Billy watches you with amusement in his eyes, “Good?” You give him a thumbs up and curl back onto the couch.

He sets the cup onto the coffee table and sits beside you. You don’t look at him while you say, “Fanboy asked me on a date.” You’re playing with Billy’s fingers to keep you occupied.

“Yeah? What did you say?”

“That I’ll think about it.”

“He’s a good guy. He can be a punk sometimes, but he’s overall good.”

“I just…” you hesitate. Do you tell him why you didn’t say yes to Fanboy? Do you tell him that even after you two broke up all those years ago that you still love him as more than your best friend? Do you-

“Even though Fanboy is a good guy…I don’t want you dating him,” Billy murmurs, not meeting your eyes.

“Bill-“

He grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, “I want to try again, Angel. I want to try us again. With you living so far, I didn’t think it would happen, but now you’re here and-and I think this could be our chance.”

You look over your shoulder and see the time. It’s late and you really need to go to bed so you’ll wake up in time.

You lean in and kiss his cheek. When you pull away, you can see there’s so many questions that he wants to ask.

“It’s been a long day. We both drank a bit. How about, we talk about this more tomorrow after work. And believe me when I say this isn’t a rejection, Billy. I just think we need to be completely coherent when we discuss this.”

He gulps and slowly nods, whispering, “Okay.” He watches as you get up and murmur, “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good night, Bills.”

“Night,” he rasps out and keeps his eyes on you until you’re out of sight and he hears the click of your door.

He immediately slumps into the couch, hands covering his face, “Fuuuuuuck.”

_____________________

The following day, all you thought about was Billy's confession. You found yourself constantly smiling at the memory of Billy wanting to try again.

It broke you when you two broke up the first time, but you understood why. He was enlisting, you two would be away from each other for so long. But now, it seems fate has brought you two together again and given you another chance.

You just hope that Billy really meant what he said and it wasn't any drunk ramblings.

So you offer to pick up some food on your way home. Billy puts in an order for you to pick up, so the food is already done by the time you get there.

As the distance between you and Billy grow smaller, the more nervous you become. What if he tells you he didn't mean it? What if it's some sort of sick joke? You mentally curse yourself for getting so excited about being with him again.

When you get home, you shake things off and try to remain neutral. You won't expect the best or the worst. You'll hear what Billy says and go from there....but goddammit, do you hope he wants you as much as you want him.

You enter the home and see Billy setting up the table. When you approach him, you kiss him on the cheek, something you're not even sure why you did. It just felt right. The gesture made you and he both freeze.

"I, uh, sorry. I didn't-I'm not sure why I did that."

Billy nervously clears his throat, "No, no. It's-It's fine. Um," he gestures for you to sit down and you do, setting the takeout in-between you.

Both of you awkwardly open the containers, grabbing food from each other and setting it on your own plates. There's a silence between you that you absolutely hate. Things are never awkward between you and Billy. You don't like this feeling one bit so you set your fork down and clear your throat.

Billy looks up from his food and straightens his posture. You speak, "I don't like this awkwardness that's happening right now, so I'm just gonna start talking, if that's okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

You let out a deep breath, "I love you, Billy. I've loved you practically my whole life. I don't want to be with anyone else, but you. So I hope that what you said last night is still true and it isn't some mean joke you're playing on me or some drunk-"

"I meant it," he interrupts you, "I meant what I said and I still mean it. And I love you too. Always have. Always will," he fidgets in his chair a bit, "Angel, you are literally the person for me. I can't imagine my life without you in it. When you said you'd be moving over here, I immediately knew this was a second chance for us. I kick myself every day for breaking things off years ago. But I'm so goddamn lucky you still remained in my life after."

You're beaming at Billy now, practically oozing love and adoration for the man before you and he's matching the same expression.

"Okay...cool," you say and that makes Billy laugh, "Only you would say 'okay, cool' after we confess our love to each other."

You roll your eyes at him, "Whatever. You love it."

Billy softly smiles, "I do love it. I also love you."

You look down at your plate with a shy smile, picking up your fork and pushing food around your plate. You feel just how you did when you and Billy got together all those years ago, like your heart is floating.

[hearthown]

All of Grayson's entrances in TIG, THL & TFG are so memorable to me - like:

1. In TIG, he was the first Hawthorne Avery met AND he got her principal to vacate his OWN office so that he could talk to Avery & Libby alone

2. In THL, he appeared after Avery hadn't seen him for a whole week but the first thing he said was "Why wouldn't she be fine?" to Alisa while exiting an elevator with his GRAYSON HAWTHORNE AURA (there is no other way to explain the energy that he exudes)

3. In TFG, he flew back from Harvard for Avery's birthday and I vividly remember him saying "Ferris Wheel Leapfrog Death Match. This never ends well."

Like this man has such a powerful aura, I'm starting to believe that he can burn his enemies with that stare of his 😭

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Kensington Palace State Apartments Tour

The view from inside looking out.

(I don't remember what this is.)

The ceiling. We certainly don't see craftsmanship like this anymore!

More ceiling details.

A long gallery, with costumes showing court dress back during William and Mary's reign (1689 - 1702).

A close-up of the dress. Women had to walk through doors sideways! Dresses like this are also why rooms are so wide; they're large enough for women to pass by each other.

Queen's State Apartments - You are about to enter the oldest part of the palace. Step inside the intimate rooms created for Queen Mary II, who rules together with her husband, King William III, in the 17th century.

Virginian fun fact here: The College of William and Mary, located in Williamsburg VA, was created by royal charter in 1693 from King William and Queen Mary. It is the second-oldest university in the U.S. (Harvard is first, having been created in 1636) and one of the eight Public Ivies.

A bedroom

A sitting room

A writing desk in Queen Mary's drawing room

L: A family tree showing the House of Stuart. The yellow leaf represents Queen Anne. The red leaf at the bottom of the tapestry represents William IV (though I do remember someone on the tour group asking the guide if that was 'our William today'. That poor tour guide. I do commiserate with her - I worked a summer once at Jamestown and you would not believe how many people asked for directions to the Grandmother Willow Tree.)

Portrait of Isabella Clara Eugenia of Austria with her Dwarf, 1559

Another gallery

King William's throne

A staircase - exiting the State Apartments, going down to the Victoria exhibit.

This room really was as dark as it looks. You could just feel the history in this space, and there was so much to look at that.

The ceiling in the staircase

Another example of court dress. This one also shows the male uniform.

The courtier's uniform from the late 1700s

Another court dress

Some court brooches. I don't remember who these were - I think they're the family of one of the Georges.

One last ornate ceiling.

[iinterstellaarr]

say that again?

spencer reid x GN!reader

summary: it takes a lot to crack Dr. Spencer Reid but when face to face with the most attractive person hes’ ever seen it doesn’t take much to get him tripping over his own words

au: BARK BARK HES SO FINE anyway this is my first ever fic on tumblr so please show me mercy and give constructive criticism thanks

I fiddle with the stray piece of hair that fell across my forehead, tucking it back into place as I maneuver around the coffee shop, I smile at the barista who usually takes my order everyday and wait patiently for my drink to be made.

The cafe was unusually busy this morning, although that should be expected for a cold Saturday morning. Patrons looking for an alternative to standing out in the cold air. I smile slightly as the warm aroma of coffee wafted through the crowd of people, but my moment of temporary peace is interrupted as someone bumps into me rather harshly. I stumble slightly and turn around quickly to meet whoever just shoved me

“I am so… sorry.” A rather tall gentleman tucks a strand of long curly hair behind his ear as he stumbles through his apology. His expression was worried and his hands reached out slightly before snapping back to his sides

“Don’t worry about it..” I smile slightly at his nervous expression and pat down coat while I take note of his outfit. “Nice scarf, the purple compliments your skin tone” I smile gently as I take a bit of his long purple scarf between my fingers to feel the fabric

His eyes shoot down to where my hands are and they quickly look back up to my face where our eyes meet. He quickly shakes his head, reminding me of a dog for a second before he coughs slightly and blinks hard. It was like he was doing a full system reboot just to be able to talk to me

“Sorry, could you say that again..?” He looked back down at my hand as I pull it away from the soft scarf

“I was just saying your scarf was nice. It looks good with the whole ‘Harvard student meets librarian’ look you have going on” I smile slightly as his eyes widen at my compliment, Not sure whether he took it as one though. “And the purple adds to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ moment”

“Thank you..! Purple was used to represent royalty through history, but.. uh, it’s more commonly associated with mystery or even magic so.. your idea isn’t too far off the mark.” He mumbled slightly and once he looked up from his hands and saw me smiling slightly, his hands fumbled with his hair and a small blush crept up his face “Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize! My favorite color is blue, and scientists have linked the color to a feeling of calmness.” His eyes light up slightly as I spoke, he seemed happy that someone was willing to not only listen to his rambling but add onto it

“Well, not just calmness but it also helps regulate your breathing and heart rate. In fact, a lot of office buildings use blue to encourage productivity and creativity.” He smiled while he talked and tucked his hands into his pockets “It’s also the rarest color to occur in nature. Bet you can’t name any blue foods.” My eyebrows knit together as I try to scramble my brain for a blue food

“Blueberries?” I giggle slightly as he points at his scarf

“Ah! Blueberries are purple. Misleadingly named, I know.” He smiled, seeming to have relaxed slightly

“Alright know-it-all, are you an artist or something?” I cross my arms while looking up at him with a sly smile

“No, just a bit of a genius” He joked slightly “I’m Spencer. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“I’m Y/N” I jump slightly as my name is echoed back to me when the barista calls my name and calls Spencer’s almost immediately after. I watch his hands as he reaches for the pitch black coffee and I feel a bit embarrassed as I reach for the creamer with a splash of coffee I call a drink. We walk to the exit together and I wave slightly as we walk opposite directions

“I’ll see you around, genius” He laughs slightly and waves as well as I leave the cafe.

I hope I see him again soon..

AHH ok hi! my names molly nice to meet you :D this is not my first fic but my first time on tumblr so plz leave suggestions!!

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt Damon presents Ben Affleck with the Santa Barbara International Film Festival Modern Master Award (February 2013)

-

MATT: [Emphatically praises Ben's skills as a director and a filmmaker, telling how Ben was a great problem-solver since they were teenagers discussing movies, and how this made him both a great writing partner and also take on problem-riddled scripts in the early days of his career, as Ben could always see their potential. But it's only when he was able to implement his vision as a director that his mastery came to light, and that Ben, as the director, is the one responsible for how great his movies came out, that it didn't happen by chance. He then emotionally calls Ben to the stage to give him the (seriously heavy) award.]

BEN: [Proceeds to spend the next 3 minutes praising Matt, repeatedly calling him "brilliant" and a "genius". Explains that he knows Matt's a genius because he's known him for more than 30 years and has seen him "do about everything you can do. Including [...] in the shower", has seen "the entire range of his personality, his emotions, his life experience". So when he doesn't recognize Matt in a role he's playing, Ben's "humbled" and "completely blown away". That Matt has worked with all those great directors because they have seen greatness in Matt. And so has everyone in the world.] And so have I.

MATT: I'm not getting the award! Jesus!

BEN: I guess I'm just riffing! I've got nothing written, so. [...] I am lucky because I saw [Matt's greatness] before all of you! So thank you very much to Matt. Now onto my 10-page written remarks. [Laughter]

-

[Full transcript under the cut.]

-

LEONARD MALTIN: He just flew in tonight to do this, please welcome, ladies and gentlemen, Academy Award winner, Matt Damon.

MATT: Thank you. Thank you. This thing is seriously heavy. This is a serious award, man. So, a Modern Master. Okay.

I'll tell you what. When we were kids— we started really looking at movies when Ben was fourteen and I was sixteen. And we'd go to Somerville, as he said, to the Assembly Square Mall, they had the big pictures there; or Fresh Pond; or in Harvard Square. And it was usually the same little group of guys: it was Ben, and me, and Casey. And our other friend who Ben mentioned tonight, Aaron Stockard, who wrote Gone Baby Gone and The Town with Ben. And then a few other friends of ours. But predominantly, we all became screenwriters, either on purpose or by accident.

And we'd come out of these movies— and we saw all kinds of movies and we just loved movies. We worked in a movie theater, actually, one summer; tearing tickets and serving popcorn for— the only movie they played was Dead Poets Society, which is a movie we both auditioned for and didn't get. I don't know, some form of bizarre self-torture that we got jobs at the movie theater that was playing Dead Poets Society, and had to watch the exiting crowds weeping every night.

Anyway, we loved movies. But we'd come out of these movies and we'd say, "What'd you guys think?" and we'd have a little note session in the parking lot. And inevitably, "That was stupid, I didn't like it." We'd have these kinds of real adolescent notes. And then we'd get to Ben—who would have been quiet to that point, uncharacteristically—"And what do you think?" And he'd go, "Well, it didn't quite work for me. But had they done this, this, and this at the beginning, what you could have done in the middle was you could have a scene where you did this, and then they could have a great scene at the end, where you could have done that." We'd go, "Holy shit! That's a really good movie!"

This is a skill that he had, and I don't know if he was born with it, but he had it when he was fourteen when we started going to movies together. It was just that thing, where he could lift up the hood and look at the engine, and get in there and take it apart, and put it back together, and the whole thing would run smoother. It's what made him such a great writing partner. He could problem-solve. And so much of filmmaking is just that: it's just problem-solving and decision-making in real time.

And that's the same skill that got him in a lot of, well, mediocre movies for a patch there. Ten, or fifteen years ago I'd read a script of a movie he was doing—he'd signed on to do the movie—and I'd read it and I'd go, "Why are you doing this? Horrible problem in Act 1, and they don't solve it in Act 2, and it gets worse in Act 3." And he goes, "I know, but if you do this, this, this, and this, this movie is gonna be fantastic!" And I'd go, "You're absolutely right!" The problem was he wasn't directing the movies. And in our business, the director is god. And the director is also your boss. And like a good soldier, he would he would plead his case, but eventually he'd do what the director wanted. And the problems that were evident to him at the very beginning, were evident to him at the premiere.

So here he is now. He's made three fantastic movies, one better than the next. And one thing I've learned is that you cannot make a great movie by accident. Anybody who makes a great movie is a great director. Period. [Applause] That's true. Because the director is responsible for literally everything. Everything. The framing of the shot; where the camera is; what the actors are wearing; the color of the walls; the color of the drapes; the color of the scarf around the leading lady's neck; the way she says that line. Everything. It's all manipulated. Every single decision. These directors are making hundreds and hundreds of decisions a day, over hundreds of days. You just can't do it by accident. It's literally impossible.

And Ben's made these three great movies. And this last one Argo is legitimately a great movie: that's already nominated for Best Picture, and it's already won the Golden Globe for Best Picture, and for Ben for Best Director, and no one's gonna be surprised if it wins the Oscar for Best Picture. [Applause]

And so here I am, with my— my buddy is, without question, a great director! And so when I was contemplating this whole Master thing, I guess the only thing I could say is, please welcome... Please welcome somebody who is undeniably two things: my very old friend and a very young master. [Applause]

It's heavy, man!

BEN: Thank you very much. This is indeed a lot. I want to say thank you to Matt Damon, who when he gets this award, I hope will invite me here to give a speech about him. Mine will be a bit more of a roast because so many of the brilliant characteristics of Matt are so blatantly self-evident.

Matt Damon actually is brilliant. We traffic in these adjectives and in hyperbole in this business an awful lot, so it's rare to actually know a genius. And I know that Matt's a genius because I know him, and I've known him for more than 30 years. I've seen him do about everything you can do. Including—we played sports together—I even saw him in the shower. Which is why that was a nice speech. Because you don't roast somebody who's seen you in the shower.

But what I've seen about Matt is who he really is. So I know and I've seen what I consider to be the entire range of his personality, his emotions, his life experience, more or less. So when I go see a movie that Matt's in, and I see a fully realized, deeply nuanced, completely complicated person—who not only have I never met, I've never even seen! Not for a second!—I am humbled and I am completely blown away.

Matt talked about directors. There are a lot of things that I would have cause to envy Matt over. The one thing I probably envy him the most is: Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg, the Coen brothers. [To Matt] Help me out! A whole shitload of directors who are geniuses. Clint Eastwood, twice. Cameron Crowe. I mean, on and on. Matt has worked with basically all the great directors who can still get up out of a chair. And the reason why is because they're great directors and they can recognize greatness. And they've seen it in Matt; and so have all of you; and so has America; and so have international film-going audiences; and so have I.

MATT: I'm not getting the award! Jesus!

BEN: I guess I'm just riffing! I've got nothing written, so. [To Matt, unitelligeable.]

I am lucky because I saw it [Matt's greatness] before all of you! So thank you very much to Matt. Now onto my 10-page written remarks. [Laughter]

[head-post]

ISS astronauts take shelter from crash of malfunctioning Russian satellite

A malfunctioning Russian satellite split into nearly 200 pieces of debris, forcing astronauts at the International Space Station (ISS) to take cover for about an hour.

US space agency NASA received a report that the Russian Earth observation satellite RESURS-P1 had split apart on Wednesday. As a result, six US crew members on the space station were instructed to “shelter in their respective spacecraft as a standard precautionary measure.”

Mission Control continued to monitor the path of the debris, and after about an hour, the crew was cleared to exit their spacecraft and the station resumed normal operations.

US Space Command, which coordinates space operations for all branches of the military, initially tracked “over 100 pieces of trackable debris.” The debris reportedly belonged to a satellite declared dead by Russia in 2022. The command also stated that the incident posed “no immediate threats.”

By midday Thursday, US space tracking firm LeoLabs reported that its radars had detected at least 180 objects.

Due to the low orbit of this debris cloud, we estimate it’ll be weeks to months before the hazard has passed.

Russian space agency Roscosmos decommissioned RESURS-P1 due to onboard equipment malfunctions in 2021.

Incident risks

Major debris-in-orbit events are rare but a growing concern, as space becomes crowded with satellite networks. In 2021, Russia hit one of its defunct satellites in orbit with a ground-based anti-satellite missile (ASAT) launched from the Plesetsk rocket site.

However, Jonathan McDowell, a space tracker and Harvard astronomer, suggested that the breakup could most likely have been caused by a satellite issue, such as fuel residue on board causing an explosion.

I find it hard to believe they would use such a big satellite as an ASAT target.

With some 25,000 pieces of debris larger than four inches (10 cm) in space, experts alarmed at the prospect of a Kessler effect. This is a phenomenon in which satellite collisions with debris can create a cascading field of more dangerous debris and increase the risk of accidents.

Read more HERE

[fireflyinks]

neil's "nothing"

what neil perry really wanted to say instead of "nothing"

a/n : hey so i'm lowkey kinda evil for writing this, so sorry in advance. this is major angst so pls be mindful while reading, love you all to bits <3

“...You’re going to Harvard, and you are going to be a doctor.” 

Neil’s face grew pale. He looked over to his mother, noticing the tears forming in her eyes as she looked at the ground, then back at him, remorsefully. She knew just as well as he did that this was the last thing Neil wanted to do with his life, and yet she didn’t interject. 

“But father, that's ten more years. Father, that’s a lifetime!”

“Oh stop it,” His father shut him down quickly, “don’t be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term.” 

Because it was. For Neil, being a doctor instead of an actor, swapping his scripts for clipboards and his costumes for scrubs would be hell. Maybe not in his father’s perspective, but certainly in his. He looked forward, avoiding the man before him’s eye, which stared daggers into him. 

“You don’t understand, Neil. You have opportunities that I never dreamt of and I’m not going to let you waste-” 

Neil shot up from his seat, unable to hold himself back any longer, “I’ve got to tell you what I feel!” 

“We’ve been so worried about you!” His mother stood up with him from across the room, her voice being lost in the boom of his father’s. 

“What? What? Tell me what you feel.” He reached an arm out to his son, who felt as if glass was being pressed on the inside of his throat. 

He wasn’t sure where to begin, so he just opened his mouth and hoped the words would come out coherently.

“What is it? Is it more of this acting business?”

He looked over to his mother, who looked as if she was begging him to say something, anything. 

“Because you can forget that.” His father said, malice and resentment laced in his voice. 

The man breathed in again, growing annoyed at Neil’s silence. “What?” 

Neil exhaled.

“For the past eighteen years, I’ve felt nothing but trapped by you. I know that I am your son and you want what’s being for me, but I’m sure that acting is what I’m meant to do! It’s not a noble pursuit and I’ll surely be dirt poor unless I make it big but I’ll be content, and I’ll trade wretched success for contentment any day! 

“I’m good at it, father. The boys tell me, Mr. Keating tells me. Hell, I tell myself. I’m really good. Because it’s something that brings me joy. For the first time in my life I feel genuine joy and passion and I beg you not to take that away from me. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find it in much else. 

“I’m sorry that I defied you father but at the same time I’m not. I know now where I belong and what I’m meant to be, and to take that away from me is to kill me and all of the life I have to live. I won’t be living if you force me to become a doctor. I’ll be alive, but I won’t be living and I’m not sure I will be able to bear it.” 

Neil inhaled.

His eyes were focused on nothing, as well as his mind. 

Neil’s father seemed to be staring through him and watched as his son sat back down. 

“Nothing?” He sighed, grabbing his hat, “Well then, let’s go to bed.” 

He exited the room. 

His mother began to follow after him, only to lean down behind his son. His eyes stayed forward. 

“I was good. I was really good.” was all he said, smiling softly to himself. 

She nodded, though she didn’t truly understand his words. She didn’t seem to understand anything about him. “Go and get some sleep.” Her hands rubbed his back gently before leaving the room. 

And that’s when Neil decided.

[verysmolnerd]

The mysterious medallion

Ares x reader

(Based off a dream that I had)

(Lmfao my first impression of Ares was him decking Diana in the face. So I’ll put the gif here too)

You hold up a medallion with uncertainty. Some stranger pushed it in your hands and walked away without a trace. It’s made of solid gold too, the ribbon on it had to be made with the finest silk too. The design on it is unheard to you… it’s essentially priceless.

What do you do with it precisely? Well, you slide it into your pocket and go about the rest of the convention. It’s one where inventions of all kinds come and present. You’ve been looking forward to see the one coming from Octavius industries.

You socialize, talking about your first few years wearing a lab coat. You’re relived that your predecessors are far kinder than you expected, that they had set their egos aside in order to aid in hurting the next generation of bright minds.

You ended up sticking with a group of college grads, talking about the scientific industry bits and bobs. What to do after getting that doctorate, dissertation strategies, etc.

“I never got to ask, what school do you lot come from?” They seemed very eager to answer, but all had the same answer, “M.I.T.” You gave them a muted applause, to which they bowed slightly and snickered.

“What college did you come from? You’re a chemist, right?” You nodded, “Yes! And I graduated from Harvard. That full ride made it easy, that’s for sure.” That gained you some silence applause, to which you mimicked the bow that they did moments ago.

“Now how are-“ whatever you were going to say was cut off with a hiss. You felt something heat up in your pockets that it was borderline about to burn you. You his and pull out the medallion, holding it exclusively by the ribbon. It’s practically glowing and heat is radiating off it.

There’s a moment of shocked silence between you and your new friends. Until one stepped forward and their fingers ghosted the burning metal, “That’s…. That’s the symbol of a god.” You eyes widened, “What?!”

“You heard me,” they said, continuing their observation, “There was a way for gods to pick their favorite mortal, and they did that by sending some sort of wealthy apparel.” You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“What god do you think sent me this?” You ask and they furrow their brows, looking at every single detail in it. Their face went dark, “Ares.” You felt like gagging, your stomach felt uneasy and your legs felt weak…. But that doesn’t mean the gods are real! Right?

Someone came running into the convention hall, “There’s a bunch of people on Greek getup and they’re attacking the center!!!” You panicked and decided to throw the medallion under a table. You then whip around to retrieve your friends.

Just because the entire room is full of the smartest individuals in the world does not mean that they are wise. They lack in athletics and street smarts, both of which you’re fairly versed in.

You waved them over snd started running for the emergency exit. Only for the door to burst wide opens and a bunch of Greek solders to come pouring in. A bunch had taken prisoners to a lot of the scientists. It’s a little ironic that a lot do them make powerful weapons and they’re too afraid to use them because of the fragility they’ve developed for them in their mind.

So you grab ahold of a metal pipe, you have a gut feeling that you might have to fight a few soldiers that don’t belong in modern times. You take for the second floor in the center. You stay low when walking on the roof, not wanting to bring any attention to yourself.

You also dial the authorities, knowing full well that others have not because they’re currently being taken out of the convention center. The sheer panic in their eyes makes you turn away. You can’t bear to see them hurt.

However, you did notice that all the solders report to one much larger and mentor muscular, one with hair of white. That must be Ares…. And just looking at him from the back, he could snap you like a twig.

He whipped around and you made eye contact with his cold eyes. You stagger back and he smiles, even from a great distance away, just a mere glance sends you spiraling.

You run back inside, hiding in one of the smallest offices rooms you can find. The center was empty, considering that everyone that occupied the space before was either captured or holding said occupants hostage.

The entire room is silent, with no really other way out than the way you came in. You just hope that the mindless warriors will over look the room you’re hiding in and leave you be. Not to mention, that the authorities should be showing up soon.

Speaking of which, you heard the noises of sirens, and all sorts of unspeakable violence. You shudder, hoping that you can just wait it out. The at everything will pan out in your favor.

However, your hopes were soon shoot dead when the office door was ripped off its hinges and thrown to the side as if it were mere paper. You bite down on your had to suppress a scream and tuck further into your hiding spot.

“Come out now,” Ares said, his voice shook your to your very core, “I can smell your fear.” You choke down any subconscious noise you could make, but he still found you.

His eyes pierced through your entire body and very soul. His smile was sinister and hungry. You find it odd when he kneels down to your level, “You shouldn’t be, mortal. For I have spared you.”

You opened your mouth but no words came out and he only laughed, “I sent my medallion to you, we are bound to be wed.” You rear your head back, appalled, “We?” He smirked, “Indeed. I will give you what no mortal man can be capable of doing.”

He leans in, his breath ghosting your lips, “Make you a god.” Your heart stopped beating, you’re surprised the constant state of shock you’ve been in hasn’t made you queasy. “You can’t tell me that I don’t intrigue you. If it makes you feel better, I find you absolutely fascinating.”

That’s the thing, being a point of interest to any god is not good. It never ends well for any human stuck under their blazing gazes. And you? You are cornered like a wild animal and the hunter deduced to pamper you, put you on display for all those unfortunate enough to cross his path.

You were so caught up in your mind that you helped when he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. All you could do was appear puzzled as he declares you to be his newly beloved… in front of a bunch of alders and scientists.

He takes off with you, holding on tight in… specific areas. “We will marry at the gates of Olympus, to which you watch me slaughter my father and take his throne!”

Who knows what’s going to happen to you? You’re certainly stumped.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

Aaron Sibarium

July 25, 2024

Princeton University is on the verge of promoting a professor who participated in the occupation of a campus building that disrupted university operations and led to more than a dozen arrests, according to an email reviewed by the Washington Free Beacon.FreeBeacon

The university has recommended that the classics scholar Dan-el Padilla Peralta, who along with 13 anti-Israel student protesters stormed Princeton’s historic Clio Hall in April, be promoted from associate to full professor, pending the approval of the university’s board of trustees. Peralta already has tenure, but the promotion would make him eligible for university leadership roles, including deanships.

"I'm sure you will want to join me in congratulating Dan-el on his promotion to a full professorship," the chair of the classics department, Barbara Graziosi, wrote to her colleagues on July 18. "This is still 'unofficial' news, because the Board of Trustees will have to rubber stamp the recommendation made by the committee that oversees promotions, but I was told I am allowed to share the news internally and do so with glee."

The board is all but certain to accept the recommendation, professors familiar with the matter said, given that the group signs off on virtually all appointments. Princeton and Peralta did notrespond to requests for comment.

The promotion comes as Princeton’s peer universities have taken a soft-on-crime approach to the unlawful and at times violent protests that have rocked campuses since the Oct. 7 terrorist attacks. The Harvard Corporation this month reversed its decision to withhold degrees from 11 students who led an encampment in Harvard yard, one of whom is a Rhodes Scholar set to attend Oxford University next year. Other schools, including Northwestern and Middlebury, ended their encampments by negotiating with protesters and acceding to many of their demands.

At Princeton, Peralta played a leading role in the most disruptive protest the campus had experienced in years. He and another professor, sociologist Ruha Benjamin, joined 13 students in occupying Clio Hall, the home of Princeton’s graduate school administration, as 200 additional protesters cheered them on from the outside.

Police eventually warned the occupiers that they would be arrested if they did not exit the building. Peralta and Benjamin did so, but the students did not.

After a chaotic effort to stop the police—at one point the crowd surrounded a bus where two of the protesters were being held—all 13 students were arrested while the professors who had encouraged them escaped without sanction.

The showdown followed a four day sit-in in the university’s McCosh Courtyard, where several Princeton faculty members, including Peralta, had delivered remarks. Though the sit-in relocated to another part of campus after the occupation of Clio Hall, it was allowed to continue in its new location for over a week.

A classicist who argues that "whiteness" is inseparable from classics, Peralta is perhaps Princeton’s most prominent scholar-activist.

He spearheaded a faculty letter in 2020 that called on the university to give minority professors extra pay and sabbatical time—compensation for their "invisible work," the letter said—and is a vocal supporter of the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions movement, which calls for an economic boycott of the Jewish state.

During the sit-in in April, Peralta also proposed a faculty resolution granting amnesty to "students and other university affiliates involved in peaceful free speech and assembly for justice in Palestine." The non-binding resolution passed narrowly in May and condemned the university’s decision to discipline the students who stormed Clio Hall.

Unlike Harvard, which promised harsh sanctions before walking them back, Princeton was lenient from the get-go: A university spokeswoman announced in May that the students were unlikely to get more than probation.