#kennedy seresin

[sarahsmi13s]

Meet The Kids

!! before continuing !! 

i highly highly highly suggest you read through the orginal story before reading this as it contains spoilers for the end of that!!

you can find the orignal story here --> Tell Them Universe Masterlist

thank you!!

Grayson Dallas Seresin

Birthday: May 28, 2006

Physical Description: brown hair, green eyes, ~6′1″-6′2″

Grayson was born after Jake and Y/N graduated high school. Like a week and a half later.

Jake is not Grayson biological father, but once Grayson bio-dad signed away his parental rights -- Jake adopted him. 

But Jake has raised Grayson to be the man he is, he is Gray’s dad.

While he has his moments like every teenager, Grayson is very respectful and tries to hold himself to a behavioral standard.

Grayson is a mama’s boy, there is no denying it and he has no shame in it. This boy loves his mama.

He’s protective of his family; especially his mom and little sister. He won’t hesitate to go toe-to-toe with a man that’s bigger than him to protect his family. 

He’ll even get between his parents if Jake is stepping out of line or there’s a tone in his voice Grayson doesn’t appreciate being directed at his mother.

Sports he plays include: baseball, basketball, and football

He wears the number 23, very proudly as that was the number his mom wore in high school.

He is a catcher and/or centerfielder in baseball, might play the occassional first base.

He’s a reciever on the football team.

In Texas, he was a point guard or a foward in basketball, but in California they have him as post or a forward.

Kennedy Hazel Seresin

Birthday: April 13, 2017

Physical Description: blonde hair, (e/c) eyes

Kennedy was acutally born while Jake was in the hospital because of a harsh landing after an ejection during training.

Jake was there for Y/N though, he was in a wheelchair at her bedside. He would be damned if he missed the birth of his little girl. 

Kennedy might be one of the sweetest little girls you’ll ever meet. She loves everyone. And while she is shy when it comes to meeting new adults, she will never hesitate to talk to another child. 

She’s a daddy’s girl, for sure. Her daddy is a superhero in her eyes.

She ADORES her big brother. Her big brother is the coolest guy there is. He also makes time for her and let’s her hang out with him -- even if his buddies are over. 

Despite the 10/11 year age gap, they’re extremely close.

Kennedy loves loves loves animals. She’s not afraid of them and will pick up any animal she can catch. Which is one of the reasons Jake calls her ‘Princess’, he swears she can talk to the animals and that’s why she’s so comfortable around them and vise versa.

Kennedy loves Marvel. Her favorite characters are Black Widow and Captain America. She loves Yelena Belova because she looks like her. Scarlet Witch is also on the list of favorites.

Kennedy and Grayson

these two may have a 10/11 year age gap, but they are as close as twins.

when grayson was 9, for Christmas he asked for a little brother or sister. he was really leaning towards a little brother so he could teach him how to play ball

and if we’re honest, when he found out the next Christmas that he was getting a little sister, he wasn’t too thrilled. 

but the moment kennedy was born, grayson was wrapped around her finger.

and as they got older, their relationship only got stronger.

grayson never tries to exclude her or leave her out just because his friends are over. and that helped to create an army that would protect kennedy with their life

kennedy and grayson watch movies, color, play games, go to the park; they pretty much do anything together

*******

i hope you enjoyed this little info piece

i just thought that it would be nice to have a little reference post for the kids and what they’re like and their relationship.

i do plan to write more fics for this universe, i have plans for a grayson piece so if you want know more about that my inbox is open for questions!!

tags <33: @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia @wkndwlff @emma8895eb @blackwidownat2814 @ireadthensuetheauthors @adaydreamaway08 @starkleila @mallerz @bananas1234 @mattheoschik @fogle97 @malindacath @pono-pura-vida @jstarr86 @djs8891​ 

thank you all for being here and i hope i didn’t miss anyone, i’m sorry if i did

[agender-wolfie]

Guys. AFAB does not mean the reader is a woman, it means they have female body parts.Stop tagging and labeling fics as such if you really mean for your reader to identify as a woman. Ffs 🙄

[faun-the-fawn77]

MISC. MASTERLIST

Note: Basically just anyone that I want cause it's just one or two from the show/movie.

Another Note: DO NOT request NSFW for minors. I will not age them up unless it's specified in the request and for SFW reasons!

Another Note: I will hopefully go back through and rewatch/replay some of these to get a feel for the characters!

Request Status: OPEN!!!

ZUKO

-NOTHING YET

JOEL MILLER

-NOTHING YET

BUGGY(OPLA)

-NOTHING YET

LEON KENNEDY

-NOTHING YET

JAKE "HANGMAN" SERESIN

-NOTHING YET

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW

-NOTHING YET

SOLDIER BOY

-NOTHING YET

might add more in the future:) cause right now im watching Game of Thrones with my mom considering I had made her watch what I like(she loves the shows tho so she can't be mad)

I love introducing her to shows I like cause I already know she'd like them but it's always a struggle to get her to start cause she is always likw "I won't like it. It looks boring/not good" But... now she's obsessed with them.

The shows in question: Criminal Minds, The Walking Dead(and spinoff shows), The Last Of Us, Supernatural, Once Upon A Time, The 100, Lucifer, Knuckles, and lastly I'm trying to get her to watch The Boys>:)

[ereardon]

Snowed In || Friday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 3.2K 

Masterlist here

“And this just in. More than a foot of snow is expected in areas across the Tri-State, with Scarsdale already at seven inches and counting. LaGuardia has shut down their runway, with Newark and John F Kennedy airport soon to follow.” 

You groaned, flicking off the TV and opening the cabinets. They were predicting the worst storm in two decades and somehow all you had in the cupboard was a lifetime supply of ramen noodles and red wine. 

Outside, the snow was falling in soft clumps. You looked out the window which overlooked Fifth Avenue. Very few cars or taxis were on the road, and the people who were outside looked miserable. 

And then the phone rang. You dove for it, expected it to be your mom with yet another tidbit of news that she thought was groundbreaking, as if you didn’t already know that Diet Coke was bad for you, but the male voice on the other end startled you. 

“Ella?” 

You squinted, pulling the phone back and registering the caller ID. Jake Seresin. You groaned. “What could you possibly want, Jake?” 

“Nice to hear from you, too,” he replied and you rolled your eyes. It had been a decade since you last heard from Jake Seresin. He was just as obnoxious as you remembered. 

“Listen, Seresin, if you called just to give me shit, I didn’t need a reminder that you’re a dick. Memory serves well enough. Goodbye.” 

“El, wait!” 

You frowned. “What?” 

His voice softened. “I’m sorry to do this,” he said and you felt your stomach tightening. “But you’re the only person I know in the city.” Jake paused. “I’m stuck at JFK.” 

“Don’t eat the egg sandwich,” you said, recalling a moldy sandwich you had gotten once at the airport on the way to Berlin. “Have a good flight, Jake.” 

“Ella, I’m stranded,” he said and you groaned. “Can I stay with you? Just until the airports open back up.” 

You looked outside. In the two minutes since Jake had called, snow had started to fall faster, coating the streets and sidewalks and innocent pedestrians. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and for perhaps the first time that you had known him in almost fifteen years, Jake Seresin sounded genuine. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t my only option.” 

Jake Seresin. The last time you had seen him, he was standing in the doorway of your college apartment with a bouquet of flowers that Suzannah had grabbed and trampled on in fury. 

“Ella? Are you still there?” 

“Fine,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Fifth and 12th Street. Apartment 4B.” 

“I owe you, El.” 

“Two days, Seresin,” you replied. “Anything more and you get a hotel.” 

“I’ll see you soon.”

***

You had hated Jake Seresin for as long as you could remember. Or at least, since the first time you saw his smug face in a poli sci lecture. He was sitting in the back, drinking a cup of coffee and doodling on a notebook. At the end of class, he had come right up to you and asked if he could copy your notes. When you said no, asking why he hadn’t taken his own notes, he had called you sweetheart and shot his best grin. 

You turned on your heel and walked away. 

Two years later, your roommate Suzannah has been stupid enough to fall for his charm, and you were treated to the unfortunate experience of having to listen to the two of them having sex behind the thin walls of your apartment. More than once you had stumbled into a shirtless Jake in the bathroom, smelling like sex and acidic cologne. Once he had walked in on you naked and instead of hurrying out like a normal person, he had leered. 

You had doubled down on your hatred for him from that moment on. 

When the doorbell buzzed you sighed, peering at the small ring camera before pressing the buzzer. “Come up.” 

The minute between buzzing him in and Jake knocking on the door felt like a century. It always did. There was something so awkward about shuffling around, waiting for the door but not wanting to be too eager to open it when the knock finally came. 

Taking a deep breath, you swung the door open. 

Jake Seresin in the flesh. The same goofy, brilliant grin from a decade before. Sandy blond hair dotted with melting snowflakes, cheeks ruddy and pink from the cold. He wore a light jacket, far too light for the extreme weather, and held a duffle bag in one hand, cowboy boots soggy and wet, dripping on your doormat. 

“Jake.” 

He smiled, leaning in for a hug and you pulled back at the last second so he stumbled over the threshold. Jake righted himself. “Ella. Still hate me, I see.” 

You turned, shaking your head. The sound of the door closing was followed by the plop of Jake’s bag on the ground. “Shoes off,” you called out, and there was a clattering as he kicked off his boots. 

Jake appeared a moment later, his jacket removed, revealing a tight henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He took a look around the studio. It was surprisingly large, for New York standards. Not Sex and the City unrealistic, but nice, with an alcove to the right that held your queen sized bed, a large couch against one wall and a dining area in the center. 

The galley kitchen off the main hallway was large and the bathroom was relatively spacious for a studio. It had just been you for so long that you didn’t think twice about the size. But something about Jake in your space made you realize maybe it wasn’t as spacious as it looked to your smaller frame. He hulked in the hallway. 

“Nice place,” he said. “Been here long?” 

“Four years.” 

He tipped his head. “Always knew you were going to end up in New York, didn’t you?” 

You sighed, plopping down on one end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “What are you doing here, Seresin?” 

“I told you, I was stranded at the airport,” Jake replied, stepping forward and taking a seat on the chair opposite of the couch. You grimaced. His outdoor pants were touching your indoor furniture. That was the downside of having guests. If Jake could even be considered a guest. Don’t guests have to be invited? Or wanted. 

“On your way to where? Somewhere without extradition laws?” 

Jake rolled his eyes. “Ten years, Finn. Ten years and you haven’t changed.” 

“Have you?”

The words clung to the air. The elephant in the room. It didn’t matter that it had been nearly a decade since the last time you had seen Jake Seresin. 

His betrayal still stung, even if it had never been directed at you. 

“Ella,” he whispered. Outside, the sky was darkening. Without the constant bumper-to-bumper traffic that was a given on Fifth Ave, the street was uncomfortably dark. There was a dampness that chilled your bones, even from the comfort of being inside. “Please. Can we just put aside the past for the next few days?” He looked older. Small lines at the corners of his eyes. Jake Seresin had a loud, boisterous laugh, you remembered that about him. The way he could liven up a party. The way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the room. 

This time you were. 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Finn?” he said, bringing back your nickname from college. “Truce?” 

You leaned back against the soft white couch cushion. “Fine.” 

Jake grinned. It was magnetic and you hated him for it. “Well, let’s celebrate then. Got anything to drink?” 

“Been here one minute and you need a drink already?” you asked, standing up. Jake’s eyes roamed over your leggings and sweater as you made your way into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Someone never got over their frat days I see.” 

Jake reached out, taking the bottle from your hands and turning it on its side. “You must be doing OK,” he said. “This is a one hundred dollar bottle of wine.” You handed him the wine opener and he undid the top easily, sliding out the cork and laying it on a stack of magazines on the marble coffee table. 

“Anything is better than that Franzia shit you used to love.” 

Jake ignored your comment, instead turning the bottle and reading the label. “I did a wine tour in Lebanon a few years ago. This was one of my favorite vineyards.”

You frowned, holding out a glass and he tipped the neck of the bottle against the thin rim, dribbling it into your glass. “So did I. That’s where I got that bottle.” You pointed to the 2015 Chateau Musar in his hand. 

“What were you doing in Lebanon?” 

“Writing a story,” you replied. “What about you?” 

“Went with a friend,” Jake said. “We met in Portugul and decided fuck it, let’s go to Lebanon.” 

“Still wildly dependable I see.” 

“I have a job, Ella. I’m an adult.” 

You laughed, tugging your knees to your chest. “Oh yeah?” 

Jake nodded, setting the bottle of wine down. You let your eyes roam over his fancy jeans, cashmere socks, shiny watch that you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he was doing OK for himself. 

“Fine,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “You have a job. Slow clap. Who doesn’t?” 

Jake shook his head. “Still bitter,” he replied, tilting his glass to his lips. “Whatever happened to you and Connor Gray?” 

“Oh God,” you muttered. “Fuck no. Do you know what he’s doing now? He’s a fucking DJ in Bushwick.” You mimed gagging. “I’d rather eat my left foot than date some Chelsea-boot-wearing guy who drinks craft beer and tries to serenade me on a hot rooftop in Brooklyn on his shitty guitar.” 

Jake tipped his head back with a laugh. It filled the room. You had almost forgotten how boisterous his laugh could be. 

“What about you?” you asked. “Any poor unsuspecting women?” There was no ring on his finger, no tan line or dent to show that perhaps he was divorced instead. 

“Nope.” Jake put his glass down. “Single.”

“Really? Jake Seresin, single.” 

“It’s hard out there, Finn,” he said, his voice hitting a register you couldn’t quite place. Something between sadness and begging for understanding. 

“You were never without a date to a formal in college. Couldn’t even go out without girls throwing themselves at you.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think the player in you would just shrivel up and die the minute we hit thirty.” 

“I’m still twenty nine,” Jake corrected. “And I don’t know what to tell you, El. It was fun for a while. But then I started to feel kind of gross. Like Leo DiCaprio. A new girl all the time. I couldn’t go to a single wedding without people asking about the girl who I had brought to the last one. But she was long gone.” He paused. “Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw the same girl for more than a month or three dates.”  

You frowned. Jake Seresin, a reformed manwhore? Not possible. 

He shrugged. “There, is that my dues for the night? Told you my dating life so now you owe me shelter from the storm?” 

“For now,” you said, standing up. “Interrogation can resume later. I’m hungry.” 

“Then let’s eat.” Jake looked outside. “It’s pretty shit out.” 

“Agreed.”

“What do you have for food?” 

You winced. “Honestly? I mostly eat out, so not much.” 

Jake stood up, brushing past you so closely you could feel his broad chest press against you for a second on his way toward the kitchen. “I’ll figure something out. You relax.” 

“Relax? With you in my apartment? Fat chance, Seresin.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Going to be a long weekend, isn’t it, Finn?” 

***

Jake somehow managed to make a perfectly edible dinner out of the almost-expired food in your fridge and what was left in the pantry. The two of you sat at the small two-person table you had pressed against one set of windows overlooking Fifth Ave. 

Anyone looking in might think it was a date. Even though Jake had dated Suzannah for almost a year, you two had barely spent any alone time together. That’s how you always tried to keep it with your friends’ significant others. A simple conversation here and there, usually while your friend was showering or getting ready or coming back from the store. 

Never like this. 

After dinner, Jake insisted on cleaning. As if it would make up for the countless times he had left shit in your apartment sink in college. You stood at the window, watching the snow pummel from the sky, coating the street in a thick blanket that it couldn’t shake. There was no one outside walking around. It felt apocalyptic and you cringed knowing that you still had at least a day alone with Jake and nothing to do but be in each other’s presence. 

“It’s dark in here,” Jake said, startling you. You turned as he reached for the overhead light. 

“Stop,” you said and he froze. “Lamps, dumbass. Why do men always want to use ceiling lights? Do you like being bathed in fluorescent light?” You strode over to the dresser along one wall, flicking on a candle warmer lamp and another small lamp on the far side of the room. Warm light spilled out into the room. 

“Does it matter?” Jake asked. 

“Yes.” 

Jake shook his head. “Alright, Finn. I’m all yours. What do you want to do?” 

“You mean other than throw you out in the snow on your ass?” 

Jake stepped closer. “Am I really that bad?” he whispered. 

You looked up. Clear green eyes, perfect almond tanned skin. Hair swept back in a carefree manner. You could tell why Suzannah has lost her fucking mind over him all those years ago. He really was too pretty to be true. “Maybe.” 

Jake looked around. “Well I would say I can get out of your hair for a few hours, but there’s not really many options.” He was right. Minus the alcove where your bed sat, the apartment was a pretty open floor plan. 

“Let’s just watch TV and watch the minutes tick by on the longest day known to mankind.” 

Reluctantly, you settled down onto the couch and flipped on the TV. After scrolling for a solid five minutes, Jake groaned. 

“What, Seresin?” you demanded. 

“Take longer,” he complained. 

“Fine, you do it.” You shoved the remote into his chest, trying to ignore how nice his chest felt beneath his shirt. 

Jake took the clicker and flicked through the apps before settling on a movie. 

“No,” you argued. 

He turned to you with a grin. “It’s a guilty pleasure. Humor me, Finn.” 

You grimaced as Twilight started. Jake laughed his way through the serious parts of the movie, cackling out loud at the spider monkey bit and you found yourself laughing along next to him. God, Carlisle really was hot. So was Charlie. That’s how you knew you were almost thirty. 

By the end of the movie, the two of you had shifted comfortably on the couch. You were no longer three feet apart. Instead, your feet were crossed over each other, almost precariously touching Jake’s where they sat propped up on the coffee table. 

It was the first time in years that you could remember sitting through an entire movie without some guy trying to feel you up or make a movie. 

The credits started to roll and you reached for the remote just as Jake did. You pulled your hand back like it was on fire and he handed it to you. “Sorry,” Jake said softly. His voice had grown huskier in the hour and a half since the movie started. “Your TV. Your remote.” 

“It’s fine,” you said and it was gentle. He smiled. There was something devilish about Jake Seresin’s smile. It was too perfect. You cleared your throat. “I, um, should get to bed

“Me too.” 

You stood up, clicking off the TV. The room felt darker without it, just the soft lamps illuminating small circles of light. “I’m going to shower. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows. The couch should be big enough for you.” 

“Thanks, El.” There was something so genuine about the way he said it that threw you off. Who was this stranger and what had he done with the dickwad from Stanford? “For letting me stay.” 

“See how much you like me after a night of sleeping on that,” you replied, digging in the closet near the hallway for pillows and a comforter, dumping them in Jake’s arms. “Do you, um, need to use the bathroom first?” 

“I’ll go after you.” 

In the shower, you were acutely aware that no more than twenty feet away, Jake Seresin was fiddling around in your apartment. You had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours with him at Stanford, but this was different and you both knew it. When you entered the living room, steam pummeling out of the bathroom door, Jake looked up from where he stood shirtless in the living room. “Oh, God!” you exclaimed, holding one hand up to your face. “What the fuck?” 

“Fuck, fuck, sorry!” Jake grabbed for his t-shirt on the couch, tugging it on. “OK, you’re safe. All clear.” 

“This isn’t Barcelona, Seresin,” you complained, stepping toward the dresser and sliding open a drawer, pulling out a pair of silk pajamas. “Or a rave in someone’s basement.” 

He sat down on the edge of the couch cushion. “Been that long since you’ve seen a shirtless guy, huh, El?” 

You hated that he was right. “Fuck off.” 

Jake chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” 

“Maybe that’s why no girl wants to date you for more than a week,” you snapped. “Because you’re a dick.” 

Silence hung in the air, thick like the snow clumping on the streets outside the window. You held your breath, letting your lungs sit there and burn. Jake’s eyes haunted yours. 

You felt bad. Never had you ever expected to feel bad for Jake Seresin. Golden boy. Womanizer. Player extraordinaire. But this was obviously a sore spot and you knew it. 

He looked sad, sitting in your apartment living room in the near-dark, face drawn and quiet. An unease squeezed at your stomach. 

“Jake, I–”

Jake stood, cutting you off. “It’s fine. I’m going to use the bathroom if that’s OK.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

You watched his frame disappear down the hallway, rounding the corner into the subway tiled bathroom. As you sat down in your silk robe at the edge of your bed, the silence in the apartment, usually so comforting as an alternative to the bustle of the city outside, felt stifling. When Jake returned in the dark, flicking off the final light and settling onto the couch, you held your breath, waiting for him to say something. 

But nothing ever came. The two of you laid there, ten feet apart, separated by a wall of silence. 

You had spent ten years who knows how many miles away from Jake Seresin and never given him another thought. Why was it that ten feet now felt like a lap around the equator? 

The chill in the room wasn’t in your head and it wasn’t from the blizzard outside. You and Jake had created frost all on your own. 

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @fangirlvoice @buckysteveloki-me  @eli2447 @bellaireland1981 

[trickphotography2]

Eeep!

I would LOVE to know what went through Jake’s head when he heard the word “pregnant”! I know he’s so loving and supportive and gives theeee biggest “family man” vibes, so was his first thought “she’s mine forever now and she’s having my baby!” or was it “oh fuck, we’re having a whole ass human” or maybe both??

Okay, this got away from me. You get some angst and additional Jake backstory (including why he stayed married to his ex even after they separated)! Here's 1.8K words of Jake's POV of finding out Darlin's pregnant.

Jake was drinking his coffee on the couch, trying to motivate himself to get up and shower when you called.

“Can you come get me?”

Those five words and your shaky voice made his heart stop. As you explained what happened, he was sprinting across the house to throw on a pair of jeans and grab his wallet and keys. It was only after you assured him a few times that someone was with you that he was willing to get off the phone.

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he waited in line for the gate guard to scan his ID, teeth grit as he fought against screaming at them to move faster. It took all his training to block out that little voice in his head that whispered something was wrong. He needed to focus on the mission - get to the hangar and the hospital. Point A to Point B. He couldn’t spiral because you needed him.

His boots slapped against the concrete as he bolted out of the truck towards the Bounty Hunter's hanger. As he raced across the parking lot, he heard someone call out his name.

Fucking shit. Admiral Tritz. Jake skidded to a halt as the uniformed officer approached, snapping a quick salute and standing at attention. Impatience warred with insubordination as he stood there, watching Tritz stroll closer. “Out of uniform, Hangman?”

“Sorry, sir… my girlfriend works here, and I need to… she’s not feeling well.” Tritz frowned. 

“Another officer?”

“No, sir. She’s a civilian. Contracting specialist.”

“Ah. Well, don’t want to keep her waiting then. I hope she feels better.”

“I’m taking her to the hospital, sir. I… I’m not sure how long that’ll take. I’m due back for mids.”

“I’ll let Kennedy know he might be getting a call and to have another pilot on standby.”

“Thank you, sir.” With a jerk of his head, Tritz dismissed him, and Jake took off, mumbling apologies as he ran through the hanger to your office. The sight of you in your office chair, head in your hands with a trashcan between your feet, greeted him as he skidded to a halt outside your door. “Darlin’?”

Your watery gaze rose to meet his, eyes dark against your pale skin. “I’m okay,” you whispered. 

“You still need to get checked out,” another woman said, and his eyes swung to the woman leaning against the wall. She waved before tipping her head towards you. “Going to need paperwork for the occupational health report, and worker’s comp is probably going to call to make sure they don’t need to worry about a lawsuit.”

“I’m not going to sue,” you grumbled.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Jake huffed, walking towards you and moving the trashcan away with his foot before kneeling in front of you.

“I’ll let the boss know you’re out for the rest of the day. Take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Armitage,” you said softly. With a nod, the woman left just as Jake spotted the paper towel darkened with blood on your foot. He wrapped his hand around your ankle and rested your foot on his thigh, gently pulling away the towel and hissing.

“Damn it.” 

“It’s not as bad now,” you observed. He ignored the droplet of blood that saturated his jeans as he rewrapped your foot.

“Let’s go.” The words came out like an order, and you shrunk back into your chair. He mentally kicked himself - you didn’t need Lieutenant Seresin right now. “Fuck, I’m sorry, darlin’,” he sighed, running his thumb along your ankle. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I… I don’t know what happened. I just woke up on the floor.” 

“Let’s go get you checked out.” 

“I need to clean up first. I can’t leave… that,” you said, glancing at the trashcan. He peeked into it and saw that you’d been sick. He didn’t hesitate before grabbing the sides of the bag and tying it off. 

“I’ll get rid of this. You stay right here - don’t move.” He jogged to the men’s room, threw the bag away, and grabbed a few more paper towels for your foot.

You were leaning against the desk when he got back, work bag slung over your shoulder. Jake raised an eyebrow and darted forward when you took a limping step towards him. “I’m fine,” you mumbled. Without a word, he took your bag and crouched, bracing one hand under your knees and the other across your back as he swept you off your feet.

Red stained your pale cheeks as he carried you out of the hangar and across the parking lot.

Jake hated hospitals. Hated the smell of antiseptic, the constant overhead pages that never meant anything good, and the hurry up and wait.

He tried not to think about the other times he’d been in the emergency room - the night Lina fell off the roof and broke her arm trying to sneak back into the house drunk, the too-close calls with his friends nearly burning in, and when his ex had a bad epileptic seizure. He’d gotten a few calls from her needing to be picked up from work or a friend’s house after having a seizure, and getting that call from you had put him right back into it. So he held you tighter and pressed his lips to the top of your head, assuring himself that this wasn’t the same. Fainting wasn’t a seizure. 

That didn’t mean he was less irritated when a medical student was sent to take your medical history. If they’d been on base, you would have already seen a doctor, not some kid in a white coat pretending he knew more than he did. You could have gotten to a hospital sooner, period. Because you weren’t his dependent, he had to drive back off base to the closest civilian hospital. If something like this happened again… if it was the start of something serious, he needed to know that there wouldn’t be a delay in your getting help. That was unacceptable. As much as you wanted to wait to get married, it would offer more protection. This wasn’t a matter of wanting you to have his last name and the promise of forever. It was a practicality. It was the rational thing to do - why put off something you’d both agreed to just because of the arbitrary decision about how long you had to be dating? You were a rational person. 

That’s what he would argue when you got home. Getting married - the benefits of being a military spouse - would be his selling point. He’d be willing to trade almost anything else for you to agree to let him put his ring on your fingers and share his last name. 

As you dozed against his shoulder after the EKG, he took out his phone and typed your symptoms into Google: headache, fainting, and nausea. The first result said it was low blood sugar. Others said it was a migraine, but you’d have known if it was that. It could definitely have been stress or anxiety. Vertigo was an option, and so was low blood pressure. He didn’t want to consider it a brain injury or tumor. Pregnancy came up a few times, which gave him pause, but you’d had your period. 

So when the doctor came in almost three hours after you’d gotten to the hospital, Jake tried not to be too anxious. If it was bad, they would have done more tests. 

Vasovagal syncope. Low blood pressure probably triggered by your hormone fluctuations. “So she’s okay?” Jake asked, squeezing your hand. The doctor smiled at him.

“Yes, she’s okay. I wanted to discuss some of the symptoms you were experiencing before the syncope. You mentioned being nauseous - was that just before the syncope?”

“No, it’s been a couple of days.”

“Have you vomited?” Nod. “Have you been keeping food down?”

“Not really. I’ve mostly been eating crackers the last couple of days.” Jake frowned, frustrated that you hadn’t told him what you’d been dealing with. If you’d been honest, he would have pushed you to go to the doctor earlier instead of waiting this long. 

“Have you been more fatigued recently?” Brow furrowed, you nodded again. “How about any other physical symptoms?”

“Like?”

“Any tenderness in your breasts?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Jake answered. You’d turned down shower sex over the weekend, cringed when he’d brushed your nipples while reaching for shampoo, and shielded your chest from the water pressure. As much as he’d wanted to enjoy your being shirtless all day, knowing that it was because you were hurting put a damper on his enjoyment of seeing your breasts. 

“The labs show that your HCG levels are elevated, which probably triggered the vasovagal syncope.” Her eyes darted between you before she added, “HCG is what we look for to confirm a pregnancy.” 

The world stopped as Jake’s hand flexed around yours. 

“P-pregnancy?” you stuttered.

“Yes. I would recommend setting up an appointment with your OB in the next couple of days…” Jake tried to listen to the doctor but couldn’t hear past the ringing in his ears.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

A baby wasn’t in the plans. It wasn’t even something you would discuss for another couple of years. There was too much you both wanted to do before having a kid. 

Don’t be stupid enough to knock up some tag chaser, his father had ordered. 

You’re married already - I want grandbabies while I’m young enough to enjoy them, Jacob, his mother had told him.

Come on, I want a baby, baby! His ex had begged.

But you, you were just as shocked as he was. This wasn’t part of the plan - the only part that hadn’t needed negotiations. No kids for a couple of years, if ever. It was you and him, a team of two. The Seresins. 

A baby…

“I’m pregnant?” you asked softly. 

“You’re pregnant.” 

And Jake felt a mixture of terror and hope he’d never experienced. 

Fuck. We’re having a baby.

We’re having a baby.

Your hand shook in his, and Jake forced himself to look at you. Your eyes were wide with shock as you nodded to whatever the doctor said. His gaze drifted down to where your hand pressed against your stomach.

That small, protective gesture told Jake everything he needed to know.

No matter how terrible a father he would be, the baby would always have you. They would have at least one parent in their corner against the world.

So if you were in, he would do it too.

We’re having a baby.

Jake’s hand itched to cover yours, adding his protection to the little person growing inside you. 

Baby Seresin.

The thought made tears spring to his eyes, and Jake blinked them away, refocusing on what needed to be done to ensure you were taken care of.

-----------------------------------

Tagging the usual suspects, even though it's not a chapter because it gives additional backstory.

Tag list: @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @mayhemmanaged; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever; @harperdoodle

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Enemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Master List

...........................................

After a brush with death during a successful flight mission, Lieutenant Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw decided to hang up his wings in favor of chasing a new dream. A few beers and one game of pool later, he'd convinced his wingman Lieutenant Jake 'Hangman' Seresin to join him.

The pair burst onto the political scene with more charm and charisma than a Kennedy. They're young, single, and full of personality. Running as Independents, the pair defied the odds and secured a presidential nomination with serious traction but need help to make their dream a reality.

Enter Y/N Wiseman, who grew up in D.C. and has been involved in politics her whole life. As the only daughter of two senators, she knows what it takes to make it on Capital Hill.

At 29 years old, she's made a name for herself as a campaign manager, but she's itching to make the jump to the White House as a Chief of Staff.

Ms. Wiseman is a take no prisoners, no nonsense, powerhouse. She could run the world in heels. She saw the glass ceiling and shattered it. She may be young, but she's cutthroat and confident.

She's hired by the two independent newcomers who are in over their heads with the promise of being named Chief of Staff if she can get them in the Oval Office. She has her work cut out for her, to say the least.

Can she take this ragtag pair and turn them into the leaders the country needs? Or will her stubborn temper and hard head cause her to burn in when she goes toe to toe with the very man she is trying to get elected?

Coming Soon

Prologue

Join my Tag List so you never miss an update

Tagging some who might be interested: @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @sebsxphia @withahappyrefrain @hecate-steps-on-me @teacupsandtopgun @phoenixssugarbaby @gretagerwigsmuse @sunlightmurdock @thedroneranger @topguncortez @seresinsbabe

[aliorsboxostuff]

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS OPEN!

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. Please be aware that i write based on my current fixations. Fixations may vary in how much i want to write them so i’ll be ranking from the MOST interested to the LEAST interested but will write. Please be patient in waiting for your fics as i, sadly, have IRL work to worry about too! 

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut 

Platonic or Romantic relationships

Kid!reader (ONLY platonic-parental relationships)

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST!

Current immediate fixation:

HOUSE MD (Up to s2)

Gregory House 

James Wilson

Robert Chase

Lisa Cuddy

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

MORTAL KOMBAT 1

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Tomas Vrbada

Syzoth

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Boothill

Welt

Sampo

Gallagher

Dr. Ratio

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

Less interested (but will write) Fixations:

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands. 

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

[compacflt]

if you're open to angsty prompts - tgm mission goes bad and Ice gets to accept Bradley and Mav's flags at their funerals? (but only if you're feeling angsty. if not, feel free to ignore!)

San Diego, California. November 2016.

It should not be surprising that the complicated politics of a funeral like Mitchell’s supersede even the national grief of losing him, but of course it is. The Defense Department and the new administration (loudly Tweeting out of their asses because the President-Elect hasn’t yet been sworn in) want to hold it in Arlington. Do it in D.C., show American unity, show how proud we are of our fallen aviator, who sacrificed himself for America’s national interests, bury him in Virginian soil next to Kennedy’s eternal flame… It’s not a terrible idea, geopolitically speaking. But the Republican leadership of the state of Texas wants a piece of him, too. Why not bury him in the National Cemetery in Dallas? That’s where he’s from. Lay him to rest in the soil of his forefathers, as all good men should be. But the entire Pacific Fleet of the United States Navy, it is argued by people who aren’t Kazansky, also has a stake in this. Bury him at sea. He gave his life for the Navy. This is how it ought to be. Bury both Mitchell and Bradshaw at sea the way we buried other American Navy heroes like John Paul Jones. (When he hears this argument, Kazansky also remembers that we buried Osama bin Laden at sea, too.)

The whole political clusterfuck is put to rest at last in mid-November, when someone bothers to ask Kazansky what he thinks, and Kazansky says, “I’ll remind you that there’s absolutely nothing left of him to bury. But Mitchell lived in California for the last thirty years of his life. He told me he’d want to be buried in San Diego. I don’t really care where you put him. But that’s what he said he wanted.” And after Pacific Command leadership hears this and communicates it to the White House, everyone all of a sudden bends over backwards to organize a joint funeral in San Diego, where Bradshaw’s parents are buried, anyway. Maybe it really is fitting. Okay.

It’s a funny thing, ritual. The military’s full of it. A funeral: that’s a ritual. So, too, is promotion, retirement, commissioning in the first place. So, too, is the everyday ritual of getting dressed, donning battle gear, which today is dress blues, the way it was the day Mitchell died. Medals instead of ribbons. The President posthumously gave Bradshaw and Mitchell Medals of Honor. Their bodies would be wearing them, if there were bodies to bury. The President prehumously gave Kazansky and Seresin Medals of Honor as well. Kazansky’s is sitting around his throat like a noose. He feels like nothing but a body himself, no soul, already passed-on. They’ll lower Mitchell’s empty casket into the ground this afternoon and Kazansky’s already thinking about climbing inside it before they do. He’s not so un-self-aware that he can’t see the absurdity in that thought. But he’s also not so self-aware that he isn’t having that thought.

It’s the highest-profile funeral Kazansky’s attended in a few years. The Secretary of State is here. The Secretary of Defense is here. The Secretary of the Navy is here. The Vice President is here. He, too, has only recently lost a son; he, too, has already lost someone he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. They don’t talk, but when they shake hands, it feels like stronger solidarity than all the Sorry for your losses Kazansky’s received over the past couple weeks. Everyone here knows about him and Mitchell, in a way that had once been Kazansky’s worst nightmare; now, his actual worst nightmare having been realized, he can’t bring himself to care, and no one’s making a big deal out of it. When they say, Sorry for your loss, they don’t mean in the “loss of two highly strategic assets for the U.S. Pacific Fleet” sense, they mean in the “loss of the only two people you cared about more than your career” sense. Sorry for your loss. It’s not so bad. And because everyone knows, in a way that had once been Kazansky’s worst nightmare, no one bats an eye when Kazansky realizes his actual worst nightmare and accepts Mitchell’s folded flag. No, they weren’t legal family. But everyone knows they were close enough.

He tacks his own Naval aviator wings onto Mitchell’s empty casket. Twenty-one guns fire. He salutes. They lower two empty caskets into the ground and he’s still standing. It doesn’t really mean anything. It’s not really a goodbye, because neither Mitchell nor Bradshaw are actually inside. He watches Seresin struggle not to cry. He stands before a few hundred people and makes a short boring speech about service and sacrifice that he did not write. This is all political. This is all just for show. Most ritual usually is. So who gives a fuck.

He disappears before anyone can pin him down to apologize again and again, but finds that his intended hideout location has already been claimed: by the time he makes it to Goose’s grave, Seresin’s already standing there alone, his hands in his blues pockets, his cap tucked under his arm.

“I just,” says Seresin stupidly. His eyes are red-rimmed and his face is sallow. They’ve never really spoken, the two of them, but Kazansky’s heard the rumors about him and Bradshaw. And he’s sure Seresin’s heard the rumors about him and Mitchell. They’re in the same leaking boat, here. “Bradley talked about him all the time.” Gestures down to the grave. “And about you. And about Maverick.”

Kazansky says, “Would you want to have lunch with me? I’m not very hungry. But maybe we can talk.” He’s trying. Too little too late, but he’s trying.

He exchanges his jingling blues coat for a regular suit jacket in the armored Suburban. Takes the Medal of Honor off as he does. Seresin, still only a lieutenant, doesn’t have the luxury of a general staff who will carry around a wardrobe change on his behalf. He’s gonna have to make do with his dress blues. He’s nervously fingering the Medal of Honor around his neck, and will continue to do so long after they’ve taken their seats in a restaurant downtown where Kazansky used to take Mitchell out for dinner, not so long ago. He can hear his chief flag aide kindly whispering to their waiter: Somewhere in the back. Where they won’t be bothered. Everyone’s being so kind.

“I could kill him,” Seresin says after a few minutes.

“Who?” says Kazansky incuriously. He’s been running his fingers over the condensation on his water glass. Now his fingertips are wet. Actions and consequences.

“Cyclone. He’s the one who refused to send me. And he didn’t launch search-and-rescue, either.”

Kazansky blinks, then looks down at his menu. “No, son, that was me.”

Seresin’s Then I could kill you goes unsaid. It’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Kazansky’s read through the menu—every word—twice. Then Seresin says, “Why?”

“You would’ve searched for the rest of your life and rescued nothing, and blamed yourself.”

“I blame myself for not going anyway. For not disobeying orders. —Maverick would’ve gone.”

Yeah, he probably would have. Kazansky remembers, in a split second, a story Mitchell had only told him a few years ago, lying next to him in the dark, a little tipsy after dinner and touchy-feely as he always was lying next to Kazansky in the dark: I don’t think I ever told you the story of how I saved Cougar’s life. His warm hands, gentle and unhurried, sliding up and down Kazansky’s abdomen: it’s so funny the details you choose to overlook at the time, and only remember when you lose them. / Well, I never wanted to ask. You hate telling those stories, I thought, Kazansky had said. Because it was true. At any party, Mitchell could tell the stories of how he saved Cougar’s life and how he ejected out of a flat spin at TOPGUN and how he shot down three MiGs not two weeks later—but he’d always have nightmares about all of it the night after. He hated telling those stories. He’d only do it if people asked, so Kazansky never asked. / You’re here in bed next to me, Mitchell said, so I’ll sleep just fine. Let me be a hero for you for once. —It was the day I saw that first Soviet MiG up close. Remember that? Negative four-G inverted dive? That was real, baby. Scared the shit outta Cougar. Messed him up bad. I mean, he thought we were all cooked. He wasn’t gonna land, I mean. Or if he tried, he was gonna plow right into the side of the boat. Couldn’t see straight. You ever been so scared you couldn’t see straight? He was dipping his wings, power too low, basically drunk-driving his Tomcat, I mean, it was freaky. So I touch-and-goed my F-14. / Against orders, surely, Kazansky’d said. / Oh, of course. You’ve met me, haven’t you? Of course, against orders. We were both outta gas. But I took off again and circled around to find him, and guided him in, you know, level off, call the ball, there you go, Coug, you got it, you got it. Don’t know if he ever told you this—he probably did ten million dollars of damage to that plane. Fucked up the landing gear and snapped off his tailhook and ground up into the fuselage. / But he lived. / But he lived, Mitchell said, and that’s how I got sent to TOPGUN. And that’s—with a soft sweet kiss—how I met you. / My hero, Kazansky’d said.

“Yeah,” he says noncommittally. “Maverick would’ve gone. —But he’d have searched for the rest of his life and rescued nothing, and blamed himself.”

Seresin says, “Is that what happened with him and Bradley’s dad? Is that what happened with Goose?”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for another while. The waiter comes by to take their orders. Kazansky’s not hungry and orders a beer. Seresin’s starving and orders a burger and a side of onion rings and a glass of wine.

“Can I ask you a question?” Seresin says after another few minutes. “Are you, like, a coward, or something? —That speech you gave was pretty neutered, sir. You loved him and you can’t even say it at his funeral?”

It’s a stupid, immature question. The Navy doesn’t deserve to hear that out loud. Nor does Mitchell’s empty casket. Only Mitchell did, and too late now. Kazansky shrugs. “If I were a brave man,” he says, “do you think I would have let him go?”

“I’d like to think I’m a brave man,” says Seresin. “I let Bradley go because I trusted him to come back. —Honestly, I’m kind of fucking pissed about it, to be honest. Sorry for the language. But it’s the truth. The night after he died, I mean, I went apeshit. Tore up our photos, punched the wall, cried myself fucking dry, that kind of stupid shit. I was so mad. I trusted him to come back, and he didn’t. Thought he was a good pilot. —Sorry. Is that sacrilegious to say? We aren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead, are we? I don’t care. I’m still mad about it. I know I shouldn’t be. But it’s the only thing I know how to be, is angry. Does that make sense?”

“It makes sense.”

“Are you angry?”

“Yes, but not at Mitchell. You know that saying, we have old pilots and bold pilots, but never old, bold pilots? Maverick was an old, bold pilot. We both knew he was living on borrowed time. That’s how he lived.”

“Pretty fucking defeatist.”

Kazansky shrugs again. He is a man defeated.

Seresin says, “Are you gonna be okay?” Then, in the resulting silence, he says, “Sorry, stupid question. Sorry. It’s just—“ He hesitates. It’s only now that Kazansky sees the dark circles under his eyes, the tremor in his hands, the desperation in the stiffness of his shoulders. “Look, it’s just that I don’t think I’m going to be okay, and you’re a lot older than me, and I keep thinking you have, like, the answer. Some wisdom, you know what I mean? How am I gonna be okay? You’re the Commander of the Pacific Fleet of the United States Navy. Aren’t you supposed to know what to do? Aren’t you supposed to give me orders? What do I do?”

“If I were a wise man,” Kazansky says, “do you think I would have let him go?”

Seresin is quiet. His food comes. He immediately launches into it, eats ravenously and silently for a few minutes.

Then he says, around a bite of his burger, “You know, I was gonna ask him to marry me.”

“Bradshaw?”

“Who else?”

Kazansky blinks. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah,” says Seresin. “You know, fucking everyone is.”

“Lunch is on me,” Kazansky says.

Home, afterwards, is silent and lonely. Of course it is: Mitchell’s not here. Of course. Kazansky’s settling into it. Life so rarely gives you a choice, when assigning you ritual, routine. There’s still legal paperwork to fill out. That he can do. And there are still letters of condolences to respond to: Thank you for your kind words. Maverick was… figuring out how to end that sentence will give Kazansky a way to occupy his time for a while. And there are flowers to throw out—no one wants flowers after someone they care about has died. They stink up the house and permeate everything with their reminder of grief and mourning, and you’ll find the dried petals even months later and grieve and mourn all over again. Kazansky throws them all out before they can start shedding. There are friends to call and thank for coming. “I don’t know what to say,” Slider says over the phone. / “Yeah, neither do I,” says Kazansky, so they sit in silence on the line together for a while, and that’s pretty nice. / “He was the best of us,” says Sundown, and Kazansky thinks about what Seresin had said a few hours ago: Thought he was a good pilot. It’s a cruel thought, but sometimes the only thing you can be is angry: if Maverick really was the best of us, he should’ve come home. / “You know, I’m still in his debt,” says Cougar. “He saved my life thirty years ago. It’s so fucking stupid, you know what I mean, this idea that I should’ve saved his in return? Feels like it’s my fault that he died. Maybe I’m too superstitious. I’m indebted to a fucking dead man. I’ll never be able to pay him back. —Sorry, Ice. Sorry. I don’t mean to make it all about me. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay,” says Kazansky. “Don’t, um—look, I’m just curious. How did he save your life? Would you mind telling me?”

“I don’t remember too much of it, to be honest,” says Cougar. “That’s why I quit, isn’t it? Something wrong with me. I was so scared I couldn’t see straight. You ever been so scared you couldn’t see straight? I wouldn’t have landed if it weren’t for Maverick. Or, if I had tried, I think I would’ve plowed into the side of the boat. Dipping my wings, power too low, basically drunk-driving my Tomcat. There was something wrong with me. You know, they could’ve kicked him out for that stunt, touch-and-going his F-14 like that. We were both outta gas. It could’ve killed him, too. But he guided me in. Saved my life. —I don’t think I ever told you this. I probably did about ten million dollars of damage to that plane. Fucked up my landing gear, snapped off my tailhook, ground up into the fuselage.”

“But you lived.”

“But I lived,” says Cougar. “And I came home to my family. Only ‘cause of him.”

“He was a hero.”

“He was a fucking hero,” says Cougar. “To the very fucking last. Sorry you had to go and fall in love with him. They advise against that, don’t they?”

“What, falling in love with heroes?”

“Yeah. —Sorry. Not funny.”

“A little funny. In a cosmic sense. Means it’s my own fault.”

Cougar pauses. “It wasn’t your fault, Ice.”

There’s still a Fleet to be run. Still work to be done. Kazansky can do that. People will laud him for the rest of his life for his professionalism under duress. He works when he should be grieving. Work is a ritual, too. Take some time off, sir, one of the Chief of Naval Operations’ aides had begged him. You need time. But he can’t. Only thing to do is keep working until all the work is done. The geopolitical situation after the mission, which was still classified as a success, is quite bad. They knew it would be. A bombing mission on Russian territory right near the American general election? Yeah, that’s bad. Russia’s Foreign Ministry has openly stated that if they find any remains of Mitchell and Bradshaw’s bodies, they will not extradite them home to the United States. I’m sorry you had to hear that, the President e-mailed him personally. But it’s fine. Kazansky likes the chaos. Means there’s work to do. He works.

When he can’t work anymore, because he’s done all the work that needs to be done, he takes care of another ritual. Life assigned him this one without giving him a choice, too. It’s past 2200. He turns no light on. He’s not sleeping in their bed, which is pretty cliché, and maybe he should be stronger than that, but you do have to make some concessions to your own grief when something like this happens. But he’s strong enough to sit on the side of it that had been his and open his phone and dial the number of his only favorited contact and hold the phone to his ear. It gives the dial tone five times, as is routine, and then Mitchell picks up the phone, as is routine. Hi! Captain Pete Mitchell here! Unfortunately I’m not able to come to the phone right now. Leave a message, or if it’s Navy business, you can shoot me an e-mail at C. A. P. T. dot P. dot Mitchell at navy dot mil. Thanks! Bye. Maybe Mitchell’s just busy. Maybe Mitchell’s somewhere without cell service. Maybe Mitchell’s just out flying.

Kazansky considers leaving a message, as is routine; realizes he doesn’t know what to say, as is routine; and hangs up, as is routine.

He takes all his medals off the rack of his double-breasted blues coat, packs them back into their clear-plastic-velvet boxes. He considers, momentarily, throwing out the Medal of Honor with the flowers. But he’s too self-aware to do that. He hangs up his coat on its felt-lined hanger, steams it straight, does the same to his slacks, slips the ensemble back into its garment bag, hangs it up next to Mitchell’s in their closet. This is a ritual, too. He takes a shower. He eats something. He answers a couple e-mails. He climbs into a bed that is not his own. He holds one of Mitchell’s college sweatshirts over his face and breathes in. He takes stock. His fuel gauge is reading pretty low. He knows his wings are dipping. If he really thought about it, he’d say he’s so scared he can’t see straight. And the truth is—he’s not so un-self-aware that he can’t recognize this, however numbly—Maverick’s not coming home to guide him in to land. Maverick’s never coming home again. Thought you were a good pilot. He closes his eyes. He tries to sleep.

[that-one-random-writer]

Chasing You Chapter 7 {Complete}

Summary: Jake retires from the military honorably. He steps into a new roll, ready to settle down in his hometown of Texas. He is placed on your shift. Your current relationship is stable until the dust settles, revealing cracks in the foundation.

Warnings: Cursing, violence, police experiences based on truth, Be aware of blood, drugs, and all things law enforcement.

Chapter 1. Next Chapter. Masterlist

"He's got it bad for you." Kennedy chuckled, sipping his glass of champagne.

"No, he doesn't. We just know each other's family, so we're just comfortable around each other." Your lips loosening up due to the liquid truth serum he was feeding you.

"Yes, he does. I'm telling you, a man doesn't walk around shirtless cooking breakfast for any woman. I can find out. Just give me a day." Kennedy boasted, knowing he could get information from people. It was his specialty.

"I wish you would. God he is so fucking fine. Id climb that man like a tree. You know how long it's been since I've had sex with James. A month and before that it was two months. I've got at least another month long dry spell and a piece of meat on a stick dangling in front of me. Just sex no emotions or anything, I'm not into him. I'm just dying for sex." Your intoxicated brain couldn't stop your mouth. "But James, we used to have sex like that. You know the railing all night long and dirty dancing to country music. It's like he just completely fell out of love with me. We never talk. He plays his games all the damn time." You continued rambling, starting to tear up.

"Alright, you've had enough." He picked up your glass and poured the rest down the drain. "Come on honey, it's time for bed before your inhibitions get too low."

You whined but went to bed. Kennedy held you as you cried. This wasn't the first time this had happened. He wanted nothing more than to fix it, but you just wouldn't leave James no matter how hard he tried. Seresin was a new pawn, a card he shuffled into his deck. This no house rule was just a hiccup.

This was a normal thing for both of you, honestly. Kennedy had come out to you in a drunken sadness when you were both alone at a bar after the rest of the shift left from a social gathering.

He still remembers the hug you gave him, as if he were going to waste away in thin air. Depression was hard. You knew better than most. Depression was a symptom of your sickness. You once faced it yourself during your cancer fight. You went back home with him the night at the bar and just held him so he didn't feel so alone. You knew that not knowing who you were as a person in such a critical way really stood in the way of happiness.

He didn't want a girlfriend, and he was too afraid to openly date men. His parents were accepting, but the world seemed so mean and hateful. Emotions were difficult, but with you, they seemed easier, like you understood him. Kennedy would always stay by your side as a protective best friend. Anyone that was close with you knew that. You didn't fix his longing for a partner, but you gave him someone to talk to about life, and that was more than enough for now.

You got ready at Kennedy's house. You always kept a uniform there. Kennedy dropped you off to grab your car. You drove off to the police department. James wasn't there, so you didn't worry about stopping inside.

"Good morning." Seresin smiled as you sat down in your normal seat.

"Good morning." You seemed closed off, not in a joking mood. He didn't press he knew it had to be home life with James.

"I'm having a bonfire, pool party at my house." Kennedy smiled. "I'm inviting the shift."

"God sounds like a bad orgy porn video." You laughed gently. "Eleven men and one woman how innocent." Your head leaned back down. You still weren't all there, but Kennedy knew how to lift your mood. You did love a party.

"We can all take turns, Marilyn." Kennedy chuckled.

"Absolutely not, but I'm definitely down for a party." Your eyes perked up.

As heavy as the sex jokes were layered constantly, it was all a part of the straight facade. You never took offense to his less than lady like jokes. You started a lot of them, too. Covering his ass for him. You always had his back.

"Then it's settled. Seresin, are you in?" Kennedy smirked, raising his brows at Seresin.

"Yeah, that sounds good, man." He nodded. His mind laced into the pool portion of the party. His mind wondered into the pajamas you were wearing the night you were with him and what was underneath them. He knew it was wrong, but it felt so right.

"Party at my place tomorrow!" Kennedy called out in the squad room. All the guys cheered.

The night was uneventful. Just a few dui's, thankfully, no one got hurt. College kids were running amuck, a little party got out of hand, and one fight at a bar between two men. They had made up and bonded out by the time shift change happened.

You were packing some stuff up for the party. You got your bag packed. You had your bikini on under your outfit. It was simple, black, high waisted, and looked incredible on any figure, especially yours. You grabbed your bag, leaving a note for James. You hadn't really made up, but this wasn't the first fight swept under the rug.

You parked up the driveway. You were staying the night, so you weren't worried about being blocked in. You opened the door, hugging Kennedy. No one else was there yet. "You just wanted this party so you could have eleven half-naked men in your backyard."

"I can say they used the backdoor too." He laughed evilly.

"God, just don't stare too much." You giggled.

"They do it to you, I'm just extending the uncomfortablity." He raised a brow.

"Yup, I can drink to that." You cheer your next shot with his beer bottle. Drunken behavior was absolutely going to be your cope mechanism for your pain.

You both drank and set up your lounge chairs. Knocks at the door came quickly.

"Dinner is here." He laughed quietly before opening the door, and groups flocked in.

Seresin came in confidently. His aviators sat over his eyes. He had a Longhorns t shirt and a pair of black swim trunks.

"Hook 'em." You called out. Seeing him so casual and cool mixed with not even talking with your boyfriend for a day made you forget your troubles. The shots you took before people arrived also helped a little with easing your mind around seresin.

Seresin held out his hand in the sign. With his two fingers up like horns. "Hook 'em." He tried his best to keep his eyes as tame as he could keep them. Your body was just calling him, and his shades were acting as shields, giving him prime opportunity. Your bikini was tight in all the right places. He watched as you leaned over in the cooler, grabbing a beer. Your ass hanging out of the itty bitty bikini bottoms. He had to think of anything else just to keep himself from growing in his shorts. It's so bad, but it feels so good.

He grabbed the beer as you offered it to him. He popped the top no opener needed. He grabbed his towel and walked on the back deck behind you and Kennedy. He laid his towel at the lounge chair next to yours.

"Isn't this the best, the three amigos, by the pool, all the sunshine." This was a happy place for you. The sun and water could always make you smile. The two boys with sunglasses nodded in agreement.

"Yup, sure is." Kennedy kept his glasses on they were dark enough no one could see his view. He watched as the men played volleyball. He leaned his head back, just taking in the view.

"Babe, we need music. Where is your speaker?" You got up from your seat and broke his view from the boys.

"It's on the counter in the kitchen." He spoke quickly so you would move.

"Thanks." You called dancing to the door with a laugh. The shots were setting in giving you a glow of joy.

"I'll go with you. I need another beer." Seresin got up following you.

"Already? Damn Jake, did you chug it?" You laughed. He could tell that you were slowly getting drunk from your drinks. He wanted to test waters to see what exactly and how much you would say. Last night at work, Kennedy was sowing seeds in Jakes mind. You both entered the kitchen, and the playful yelling was muffled by the door.

"No, I just wanted an excuse to be alone with you again." He's smirk was bold. You liked bold, especially when intoxicated.

"Jake!" His name whined out in a bubbly giggle. "You know I'm with James." You stepped closer, pulling him into a hug. His shirt smelled like gain and whiskey style cologne. "You smell really good."

"Thanks, honey." He held you just enjoying the contact he thought he lost when your face dropped from the phone call at his house. He knew the look on your face. He knew the trouble you were in. He saw the situation in a boyfriend's eyes. A single hot, successful, dangerous man, just innocently letting a gorgeous woman come stay for just sleep. It was the truth, but it sure didn't look good, not to a broken relationship, at least.

You looked up in his eyes. He held the smirk, his hair a little messy, his arms bulging in the sleeves of his shirt, his seafoam eyes whisking you away on a stormy day at the ocean far away from James.

"Jake, damn it... Jake, don't do this to me."

You stepped away. "I am not a cheat, never been a cheat. No matter how drunk you get, bitch you hold yourself together." You said out loud to yourself.

Seresins smirk only grew. You, a faithful woman, drove him mad. It was forbidden fruit. He never would cheat with a woman in any situation, but you saying this gave him evidence of more in your brain than you would let on sober. Kennedy was being truthful. He had got his information, and this next decision was just for fun.

"What are you thinking right now?" He leaned over you, placing his hand firmly on the wall above your head. His leg relaxed, taking a nonchalant stance like he wasn't committing sin.

Your eyes lifted up his body to his eyes. "It's bad. It's immoral. It's not anything that I can possibly take back. I want you so bad. Why are you wearing a shirt it's a pool party?" You were starting to dip your toes in a body of water filled with glass. Everyone would get hurt if you jumped in.

"Tell me that again when you're sober." He took off his shirt with ease. His toned body, positioned back over you, tossing his shirt to a chair.

Kennedy had seen the bright orange shirt in the window flying across the room. The no house rule wouldn't extend to his. He knew your bond with him was untouchable to James. "Fuck you, James." He said with a smirk, softly pulling his beer to his lips taking a sip.

You looked back up at the man in front of you. His dog tags loose around his neck, hanging over his chest.

You grabbed the metal in your hands, reaching out to his chest. Your eyes peered down his abs. "Jake, I can't. I want to be so bad. You have no idea. I just can't. I could never hurt him like that."

Jake nodded. "I know, and that's why I'll wait. I'll wait for you at the bottom, I'll stay away if he pulls you back up himself, but until then, I'm here... I'll wait." Jake reaches a hand out, pulling you closer around the waist. Open water surrounding you, James was floating at the top, unwilling to pull you back up to the top as you drowned. Jake stood at the bottom waiting for you to fall down. You knew you were safe with him. You knew he would pull you back up and save you from drowning. You just couldn't let go of the rope laced with cancerous memories tethering you to James.

You wrapped your arms around him, just allowing yourself to let go only for a moment. Your hand searched low to his abs, it grazed up his chest, searching for stability. The room around you was spinning. You leaned up, looking in his eyes. Your gaze shifted to his lips, back to his eyes then over to the speaker. You let go of him slowly and grabbed the speaker. "Come on, Ken's gonna get worried."

A/N: no the hell ken ain't.

Join the tag list! Message me, comment, reblog, wherever you want to ask. I got you, babe! 😘

@emorychase

@emma8895eb

[sarahsmi13s]

omg i saw a tik tok around christmas time where the little girl was going to see santa and she made her teenage brother and all his friends come take pictures with her and i feel like that’s so kennedy lol

oh yeah, for sure. kennedy would pull out her best puppy dog eyes and plead with grayson (though it wouldn't take much convincing)

and his friends would buckle as well for sure because kennedy is way too cute

brb gonna write a little piece for this because kennedy and grayson are my favorite siblings

thank you for this!!

[faun-the-fawn77]

ꜰᴀᴜɴ'ꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛ🌲🦌

💚Masterlist Here!

💚Commission Info Here

💚Request/Taglist Info Here

💚Artwork!

Boundaries for what I will and will not write!

Will Do:

Smut

Angst

Fluff

Hurt/comfort

Sometimes dabble in SH/sewerslide

Character x reader

Character x OC

Will try to write for all genders

Pregnancy

Won't Do:

SA/Rape

Pedophilia

Scat/piss kink

Abuse

Threesomes(It just confuses me honestly)

Honestly just the most horrid things you could think of and I won't do

Fandoms That I Write For:

✞Hazbin Hotel✞

-Alastor

-Lucifer

-Adam

-Angel Dust

-Husk

-Vox

☠︎︎Helluva Boss☠︎︎

-Stolas

-Striker

-Blitzo

-Loona

-Fizzarolli

𓆸Harry Potter𓆸

-Draco Malfoy

-James Potter

-Sirius Black

-Remus Lupin

-Tom Riddle

✿LOTR/The Hobbit✿

-Legolas

-Thranduil

-Thorin

꧁Jujutsu Kaisen꧂

-Gojo Satoru

-Geto Suguru

-Toji Fushiguro

-Sukuna Ryoumen

✵Stranger Things✵

-Eddie Munson

-Steve Harrington

-Robin Buckley

-Billy Hargrove

𓆩𓆪Supernatural𓆩𓆪

-Dean Winchester

-Castiel

-Sam Winchester

-Gabriel

❦The Walking Dead❦

-Daryl Dixon

-Rick Grimes

-Negan Smith

⚔︎Demon Slayor⚔︎

-Rengoku Kyojuro

-Shinazugawa Sanemi

-Uzui Tengen

✧My Hero Academia✧

-Aizawa Shouta

-Dabi/Todoroki Touya

-Todoroki Shouto

-Bakugou Katsuki

-Hawks/Keigo Takami

֎MISC֎

-Zuko(ATLA)

-Joel Miller(TLOU)

-Buggy(OPLA)

-Leon Kennedy

-Jake Seresin

-Bradley Bradshaw

-Soldier Boy(The Boys)

About Me:

My name is Faun:) pronounced like the baby deer.

I'm in my early 20's

I'm a self taught artist!

I live in Alaska! Fun fact: It's a place that one of the brothers from Brother Bear was named after

My fav colours are cerulean blue and moss green

I have a black cat and his name is Enoki!

My fav food is halibut!

Boba is my go-to drink

I'm in a lot of fandoms(might write for them in the future)

I have seven piercings which are all on my head and four tattoos!

I love to go fishing!

I dye my hair a lot! And I wear the same 5 rings:)

I'm sensitive to hurtful words but I'm working on that

I'm bipolar:)

Please be respectful towards me and those who send in asks! I want this community to be kind and to encourage others!💚

[stupendouspizzacomputer]

INSANITY (Hellaverse x isekai male reader)

Winners (Part 3):

•Nancy Drew (Nancy Drew)

•Nick Sturniolo (Youtuber/Sturniolo triplets)

•Chris Sturniolo (Youtuber/Sturniolo triplets)

•Matt Sturniolo (Youtuber/Sturniolo triplets)

•Italy (Hetalia)

•Harrier "Harry" Du Bois (Disco Elysium)

•Ian Hecox (Smosh/Youtuber)

•Anthony Padilla (Smosh/Youtuber)

•Jung kook (Bts)

•V (Bts)

•Jimin (Bts)

•Suga (Bts)

•RM (Bts)

•Jin (Bts)

•J-Hope (Bts)

•Paige Bueckers (Paige Bueckers)

•Megan Thee Stallion (vmas)

•Chappell Roan (vmas)

•All the Venezuela's people who died and suffered because of Maduro's tyranny

•The monk (rain world)

•The survivor (rain world)

•The hunter (rain world)

•The watcher (rain world)

•The Gourmand (rain world)

•The Artificer (rain world)

•The Rivulet (rain world)

•The spearmaster (rain world)

•The saint (rain world)

•??? (rain world)

•Leon Kennedy (Resident Evil)

•Marcelyn (Adventure Time)

•Jeremy Heere (Be more chill)

•Alice Dyer (Magnus protocol)

•Phoenix Wright (Ace attorney)

•Mia Fey (Ace attorney)

•Miles Edgeworth (Ace attorney)

•Eddie Brock (Venom/Venom the last dance)

•Chell (Portal)

•Jake Seresin (Glen Powell)

•Lewis Hamilton (F1/Formula 1/oscar piastri/Ferrari)

•Charles Leclerc (F1/Formula 1/oscar piastri/Ferrari)

•Franco Colapinto (F1/Formula 1/oscar piastri/Ferrari)

•Carlos Sainz Jr (F1/Formula 1/oscar piastri/Ferrari)

•Yuki Tsunoda (F1/Formula 1/oscar piastri/Ferrari)

•Daniel Ricciardo (F1/Formula 1/oscar piastri/Ferrari)

•Charles-Haden Savage (Only murders in the building)

•Oliver Putnam (Only murders in the building)

•Mabel Mora (Only murders in the building)

•Madoka Kaname (Madoka Magica)

•Wei Wuxian (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Lan Wangji (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Wei Changze (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Cangse Sanren (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Jiang Fengmian (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Jiang Cheng (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Jiang Yanli (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Jin Ling (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Lan Sizhui (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Lan Xichen (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Lan Qiren (mdzs/mo dao zu shi)

•Twilight Sparkle (my little pony)

•Applejack (my little pony)

•Pinkie Pie (my little pony)

•Fluttershy (my little pony)

•Rarity (my little pony)

•Rainbow Dash (my little pony)

•Hua Cheng (tgcf/ghosts)

•The Knight (Hollow Knight)

•Flandre Scarlet (touhou)

•Remilia Scarlet (touhou)

•Sakuya Izayoi (touhou)

•Ruby Rose (rwby)

•Yang Xia Long (rwby)

•Weiss Schnee (rwby)

•Blake Belldonna (rwby)

•Jaune Arc (rwby)

•Pyrrha Nikos (rwby)

•Nora Valkyrie (rwby)

•Lie Ren (rwby)

•Yami Yugi (Yugioh)

•Sonic (Sonic/Sonic the hedgehog)

•Tails (Sonic/Sonic the hedgehog)

•Knuckles (Sonic/Sonic the hedgehog)

•Link (Legend of Zelda/Botw)

•Zelda (Legend of Zelda/Botw)

•Eddie Munson (Joseph Quinn/Stranger things)

•Wynonna Earp (Wynonna Earp)

•Harry Potter (Harry potter)

•Hermione Granger (Harry potter)

•Ron Weasley (Harry potter)

•Rock Lock (Black tumblr/bnha)

•Shuri (Black tumblr/Black girl magic)

•All Might (bnha/My hero academia)

•Deku (bnha/My hero academia)

•Tahliah Debrett (Fka Twigs)

•Shen Qingqiu (svsss)

•Luo Binghe (svsss)

•Osamu Dazai (bsd/bungou stray dogs)

•Atsushi Nakajima (bsd/bungou stray dogs)

•Chuya Nakahara (bsd/bungou stray dogs)

•Princess peach (Super Mario)

•Pricess Rosalina (Super Mario)

•Princess Daisy (Super Mario)

•Siffrin (In stars and time)

•Odile (In stars and time)

•Homer (The odyssey/Poets on tumblr)

•Arsenal's crew (arsenal/arsenal fc/arsenal wfc/woso)

•ThunderClan (Warrior cats)

•WindClan (Warrior cats)

•ShadowClan (Warrior cats)

•RiverClan (Warrior cats)

•SkyClan (Warrior cats)

•Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Mikey Way (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Frank Iero (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Ray Toro (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Bob Bryar (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Matt Pelissier (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Jarrod Alexander (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Pete Parada (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•James Dewees (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Jamie Muhoberac (My Chemical Romance/mcr)

•Rhea Ripley (wwe)

•Gordon Freeman (Hlvrai)

•Azi (Scavengers reign)

•Spock (Star Trek)

•Michael Huang (tpot)

•Cary Huang (tpot)

•Satomi Hinatsu (tpot)

•Bae Seok-Ryu (Love next door)

•Kris (Deltarune)

•Professor Hershel Layton (Professor Layton)

•Joy (Pixar)

•Anger (Pixar)

•Sadness (Pixar)

•Fear (Pixar)

•Disgust (Pixar)

•Envy (Pixar)

•Anxiety (Pixar)

•Embarassment (Pixar)

•Ennui (Pixar)

•Miriam (Dragon Age the veilguard/Dragon Age Inquisition/Dragon Age)

•Roland (Dragon Age the veilguard/Dragon Age Inquisition/Dragon Age)

•Qwydion (Dragon Age the veilguard/Dragon Age Inquisition/Dragon Age)

•Lacklon (Dragon Age the veilguard/Dragon Age Inquisition/Dragon Age)

•Neb (Dragon Age the veilguard/Dragon Age Inquisition/Dragon Age)

•Ralph (Wreck it Ralph)

•Felix (Wreck it Ralph)

•All the Ukraine's people who died and sufffered beacause of the war)

•Sayori (ddlc)

•Yuri (ddlc)

•Natsuki (ddlc)

•Lottie (Yellowjackets)

•Abraham Van Helsing (Dracula daily)

•Sidney Crosby (Pittsburgh Penguins)

•April Ludgate (Aubrey Plaza)

•Commander Shepard (Mass effect)

•Mala (Roblox)

•Marinette (Miraculous Ladybug)

•Adrian (Miraculous Ladybug)

•Sakura (Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle)

•Alex Hirsch (Gravity falls/The book of Bill)

[peacefulwriting]

CONFESSIONS - THE CHARACTERS

Kennedy Taylor portrayed by Kennedy Walsh.

Jake Seresin portrayed by Glen Powell

Alexander O’Connell portrayed by Lucas Bravo

The rest of the Top Gun: Maverick crew is in the story, but these will be the main characters.

[dethtale]

STARTER CALL. heart this post for a starter from my MIXED MEDIA muses ( nick burkhardt, damien thorn, dracula, typer galpin, marcus lopez, zed necrodopolis, dimitri belikov, lissa dragomir, david budd, jake seresin, leon kennedy, georgia miller, robert langdon, lady phoebe from you ).

[ofstoriesandstardust]

Fake title ask: "After Midnight"

fake fic title ask game!

i also stole inspiration from dermot kennedy’s “after rain” because that was what was playing when i saw this ask.

this one has gotta be another Hangman fic, but this one is definitely a best friends-to-lovers fic.

a potential summary:

Jake Seresin has long since learned that the best things happen after midnight. The best food, the best conversations, falling in love in love with the best people.

It’s exactly that. One late night,in his car, eating shitty fast food, that he realizes it. It’s after midnight when he realizes he’s fallen in love with his best friend, the best person he knows.

It’s after midnight when he realizes just how incredibly fucked he is.

[onbrokenglass]

Hello there!

This blog is mainly for finding roleplays. I roleplay exclusively on Discord (I love making private servers) and am 21+, so minors please DNI. Style-wise I can adapt to my partner, though my favourite way to write is lit for those juicy, introspective moments. NSFW friendly, and I like all sorts of pairs from fxf, mxf, mxm, to any nb pairs. Platonic and found family are fun too!

My messages are always open for people interested in writing with me! I promise I don’t bite, even if some of my muses do.

Under the cut is a list of characters I’ll thread with (who I’d like to play is bolded, if both are bolded I can do either or), though it’s by no means exhaustive. Regardless of how old this post gets, you can message me at any time for those on this list.

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Ships (Canon)

Anakin Skywalker x Obi-Wan Kenobi

Atton Rand x Female Exile

Aviendha x Elayne Trakand

Beatrice x Battler Ushiromiya

Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Bruce Wayne x Selina Kyle

Carmy Berzatto x Sydney Adamu

Chloe Frazer x Nadine Ross

Dale Cooper x Harry Truman

Daniel Solace x Maura Franklin

Dick Grayson x Wally West

Dracula x Mina Harker

Elend Venture x Vin

Emma Larsimon x Marianne

Enid Sinclair x Wednesday Addams

Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier

Ethan Winters x Karl Heisenberg

Harley Quinn x Poison Ivy

Harry du Bois x Kim Kitsuragi

James Delaney x Lorna Bow

Joe Goldberg x Forty Quinn

Joe Goldberg x Love Quinn

John Constantine x Bruce Wayne

John Constantine x Lucifer

Jon Kent x Damian Wayne (either aged up or still young, but if they’re young absolutely no NSFW)

Jonas Kahnwald x Martha Nielsen (any iterations)

Kaz Brekker x Inej Ghafa

Kaz Brekker x Jesper Fahey

Kyle Hyde x Brian Bradley

Kevin x Ilonka Pawluk

Laurent of Vere x Damen of Akielos

Leon Kennedy x Ada Wong

Leon Kennedy x Chris Redfield

Marius Josipovic x Julia Bowman

Marius Josipovic x Taylor Bowman

Mat Cauthon x Elayne Trakand

Mat Cauthon x Rand al’Thor

Mat Cauthon x Tuon Paendrag

Matt Murdock x Foggy Nelson

Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

Mike Ross x Harvey Specter

Moon Knight (all/any of them) x Layla El-Faouly

Moon Knight (all/any of them) x Peter Parker (adult Peter only)

Nate Fick x Brad Colbert

Nate Jacobs x  Maddy Perez

Nathan Prescott x Max Caulfield

Percy Jackson x Nico di Angelo

Phoenix Wright x Miles Edgeworth

Rob Ryan x Cassie Maddox (book verse)

Roman Godfrey x Peter Rumancek

Ronald Speirs x Carwood Lipton

Sherlock Holmes x John Watson

Stephen Holder x Sarah Linden

Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Thomas Shelby x Alfie Solomons

Tomas Ortega x Marcus Keane

Tyrell Wellick x Elliot Alderson

Wade Wilson x Peter Parker (adult Peter only)

Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter

Wolfgang Bogdanow x Kala Dandekar

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Ships (OC)

Alcina Dimetrescu x OC (female)

Atticus O’Sullivan x OC (any, supernatural or mythological)

Francis York Morgan x OC (any)

Holden Ford x OC (male, serial killer and/or detective)

John Constantine x OC (any)

Jonathan Reid x OC (any)

Peter Pan x OC (male, lost boy - no NSFW, though would feature dark themes as my Peter is inspired by the book The Child Thief. Would love platonic friends or enemies for this as well.)

Vanessa Ives x OC (any)

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Platonic

Carmy Berzatto & Richie Jerimovich

Dexter Morgan & Harrison Morgan

Five Hargreeves & Any Hargreeves Siblings

Hank Anderson & Connor

Jesse Pinkman & Walter White

Joel Miller & Ellie Williams

Kratos & Atreus

Moon Knight System (any against any)

Norman Bates & Dylan Massett

Peter Pan & Hook