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hi! i prefer to go by lena on here. i am: 24 years old, bi, white, demigirl, enfj, leo, & living in the usa.

i casually write as my schedule and mind permits, but i am open to “_ x reader” requests for:

top gun (bradley “rooster” bradshaw, robert "bob" floyd)

outer banks (all pogues & sarah)

all members of seventeen

i reserve the right to deny any requests i do not feel inspiration for or i deem inappropriate. minors are NOT allowed on my page, THIS IS AN 18+ SPACE ONLY!

18+ requests are welcome, but only off of anon so i can verify it is not being requested by a minor.

please do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

current library

jj maybank (outer banks)

sweet nothing (mild hurt/comfort)

studying with jj (mild hurt/comfort)

early mornings with jj (fluff)

kim mingyu (seventeen)

bringing your daughter to a music show filming (fluff)

helping you eat (comfort/fluff)

bradley "rooster" bradshaw (top gun: maverick)

life for two (angst/comfort)

open arms (slight angst/comfort)

as usual (fluff, slight angst/comfort)

in a world of boys (angst/comfort)

i’ll look after you (slight angst/comfort)

robert "bob" floyd (top gun: maverick)

tee shirt (comfort/fluff)

jake "hangman" seresin (top gun: maverick)

*NEWEST* through the storm (hurt/comfort)

me when i have this super sweet and super great guy who’s into me but he’s a lil immature and i’m not sure how attracted i am to him atp and all i can think abt is jj and bradley, i am literally never allowed to complain abt being single again because i shoot every once in a blue moon opportunity down because nothing ever matches the fantasies in my head 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Sunday Scaries

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female Laboratory Scientist Girlfriend

Summary: Bradley notices you’ve been off lately, especially on Sundays.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Minors DNI, smut, fluff, swearing, probable typos

WC: 4800

As always, this wouldn't be here without @sylviebell and @bobfloydsbabe!

A/N: Side mirrors are very expensive to replace sometimes...A lot of this is based on my last job. The Sunday scaries were very real...

Bradley sat by the pool table, cold Yuengling in hand. It was the second Friday of the month, his night out with the squad. You were having game night with your friends. It had been the routine that the two of you kept in the two years you had been dating. You would get a carefree night with your friends and so would he. But as he watched Phoenix and Bob painfully beat Hangman and Payback, he couldn’t get his mind off you. His stomach flipped. He had been worried about you lately.

He noticed you seemed off recently, especially on Sunday nights. You seemed more agitated, anxious. He was barely able to get you to eat all day, let alone get you to go out of the house. At first, he thought it was because you were overwhelmed at work; more people were quitting, leaving those of you left to pick up the slack. But then he caught you crying in the shower. When he had asked you what was wrong, you brushed him off. That was the first warning bell in his mind. But then he caught you staring blankly at your book the next Sunday, practically catatonic. It was like clockwork. If it was Sunday, you were miserable. He was starting to wonder if it was him. He knew the last deployment had been hard on you, but had it carried over? 

“I can hear you thinking from over here,” Phoenix teased, handing her pool stick off to Fanboy.

He just hummed in acknowledgement, peeling the label off his sweating beer bottle. His lip was between his teeth as he tried to focus on anything but thinking about how helpless he was beginning to feel.

“Bradshaw,” she said sharply. His eyes flitted to hers. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, turning his attention back to the bottle.

“The stack of mutilated beer labels proves otherwise,” Bob said from beside him.

“Jesus, Floyd,” he hissed, jumping at his proximity. He wasn’t quite sure how Bob always managed to sneak up on him, but it only seemed to get worse each time he did.

“Look, Rooster,” Phoenix sighed. “We beat Bagman and you didn’t have anything to say about it. Now either you’re really missing Dex or something is seriously wrong.” He gulped as she crossed her arms. “Now which is it?”

He closed his eyes, a small sigh escaping him. In all the time he knew Nat, he knew better than to try to lie. She’d just squeeze the truth out of him no matter how painful it was for him. Maybe she would even have some insight. He could have easily been overlooking something simply because he was a guy.

“Is it Dex?” Bob pressed, setting his root beer down.

Bradley dragged a hand over his face. Why was it that Floyd always seemed to pick up on when something was wrong much faster than he did? The man practically had a sixth sense for it.

“Is she okay?” Phoenix asked softly.

“She’s been…off?” He admitted hesitantly.

She paused mid sip to look him straight in the eye. “Off?” Phoenix repeated slowly.

“I think something’s wrong,” he huffed. Hearing himself say it out loud only made his stomach more upset. A bitter taste filled his mouth.

“Do you think the last deployment was too much for her?” Phoenix whispered, taking the seat on his other side.

“Don’t say that,” he whined. “Don’t you dare say that.” His pulse filled his ears as panic set in. Were you pulling away? Was this the beginning? Fuck. He hoped that wasn’t it. He loved you so much. He was thinking about asking your parents for your hand.

“Why don’t you tell us what’s been going on?” Bob suggested meekly, a gentle hand finding his shoulder.

Bradley took a drag of his slowly warming beer. He closed his eyes as he began to speak. “I caught her crying a few Sundays back,” he said softly. “She said it was nothing. But I hear her sobs from the bathroom like clockwork. And she’s barely eating on Sunday nights. She literally ate maybe a cheese stick last Sunday, claiming she wasn’t hungry.” He paused, looking at his hands. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Bradley’s heart was shattering. Maybe you were pulling away after all. Maybe he just noticed it more since you were both home on Sundays. As long as he wasn’t deployed, the two of you were always home on Sundays.

“Bradshaw, I didn’t think you were this thick,” Phoenix teased, knocking his shoulder.

His brow pinched as he studied her face. Was she going to tell him what he was missing?

“Sounds like a case of the Sunday scaries,” she continued.

“The what?” he coughed.

“It’s pretty common,” Bob filled in. “It’s a sense of dread and impending doom for the coming work week.” He paused as he shyly smiled at the two pilots. “It’s different in everyone. Some people get sad. Others anxious.”

“Makes sense to me,” Phoenix added. “Didn’t you say they were making her work ridiculous shifts to cover the lab?”

Bradley sighed. Why didn’t he figure that out earlier. You were stressed, tired. You took off your side mirror two weeks ago after working your third four am to four pm shift. You had been losing weight from it all. The pieces all fit together.

“And hasn’t that hematology supervisor guy been a real dick to her lately?” Bob piped up.

He nodded, a glimmer of hope sprouting in his chest. “The Sunday scaries,” he said softly. Now that he might have a clue of what was happening, maybe he could help you through it.

“Aw,” Hangman jeered, stepping towards the group. “Are you already dreading flying on Monday, Rooster? Afraid I’ll show you up again?”

“Shove it, Bagman,” Phoenix hissed.

Bradley bit his lip. He didn’t want any more opinions on the issue, especially not one from Jake Seresin.

“It’s Dexy, isn’t it?” Hangman prodded, his arrogant smirk fading.

God, Bradley hated that he called you that. He hated that they all called you Dex, even if it was a nod to Dexter’s Laboratory since you worked in a lab. But what he really hated was that out of all the pilots in the squadron, you seemed to have befriended Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

“Bradshaw,” he said sharply. “Is Dexy having issues?”

“What do you two normally do on Sundays?” Bob asked quickly, trying to deescalate the tensions that were quickly growing.

“Bradshaw, maybe if you’d spend a bit more time with your girl instead of your Bronco on Sundays, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Hangman hissed.

“Rooster?” Phoenix’s voice was hesitant.

“Come on, Bradshaw, tell them your routine,” Hangman taunted. “You wake up at dawn, start pounding brews and spend the day in the garage.”

Bradley’s knuckles grew white as he gripped the bottle in his hands. How did he know that Sundays were for his baby? Had you told him? He couldn’t bite back the grimace that contorted his face as rage coursed through him.

“You leave her to her own devices, Bradshaw,” he continued bitterly. “Leave her in that beautiful mind of hers too much on a Sunday, especially when she needs to really get out of that lab.”

His grasp loosened as the red hues of his vision subsided. Hangman figured it out in less than five minutes, and he couldn’t figure it out over the course of weeks. Guilt crashed over him in waves. 

“May…maybe distract her,” Bob suggested. “Book a spa day. Or take her to the beach.”

“Maybe make her a nice dinner on Monday,” Phoenix added.

“Just get her out of her mind for a while, Bradshaw,” Hangman said harshly. He leaned closer, his lips close to Bradley’s ear. “Because if you don’t, I will,” he taunted before walking away. 

Bradley gulped thickly, bile rising in his throat. 

~~

You let out a soft groan as the birds chirping became louder, pulling you from your dream. It couldn’t be time to wake up already, could it? You rolled onto your stomach, burying your head beneath your pillow. Why did it have to be Sunday already? Your groan grew as the chirping got louder. Those goddamn birds were on your shit list. 

You groaned, rolling onto your back, refusing to open your eyes. You heard a faint chuckle as the bed seemed to dip. You stretched your limbs, a delicious ache consuming them. It was a reminder of the night you’d shared with your boyfriend. You moaned slightly as the muscle memory of his mustache tickling you flooded your mind, toes curling at the feeling of him worshipping your body. 

Maybe you were still dreaming. You could swear Bradley was nuzzling your neck at the sensitive spot just below your ear. A louder moan slipped from your lips as his mustache tickled you while his lips left soothing kisses. The chuckle was louder. 

“Wake up, sweetheart,” Bradley whispered lazily. 

You groaned as he placed a kiss on the juncture of your neck, sending a shiver through you.

“Let me see those pretty eyes,” he begged. 

Soft kisses peppered your cheeks, sending a warmth through you. You let your eyes flutter open, your boyfriend’s large smile greeting you.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered before capturing your lips with his own.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand gently stroked your cheek. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Kissing Bradley Bradshaw never failed to make you feel light and warm. But when your were barely on the cusp of waking up, it was too much to handle. Your brain was shutting down, ready to let a wave of drowsiness take you under.

“Hey,” he said pulling away. “Let’s sit up, sweetheart.”

He was already tugging you into his lap before you could protest, limbs still on a ten second delay as you tried again to force your eyes open.

“Mmmm,” you groaned as you leaned against his chest. “Baby, what time is it?”

“A little after seven,” he hummed, breath tickling your neck.

Your eyes shot open, anger flaring through you. “Bradley Peter,” you hissed, turning to look at him. “It’s Sunday,” you whined.

“And we have plans, sweetheart,” he said innocently. He placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“Baby, it’s Sunday, my laundry could’ve waited another hour.” You felt yourself deflate, exhausted tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped in your ear. “I already did your laundry. I even made you breakfast.” He placed a kiss on your neck. “You can sleep in the car.”

“You did my laundry?” You froze. What was he up to? “Didn’t you say you wanted to replace the brakes on the Bronco?”

“Did it yesterday,” he said giving you a squeeze. “I just want to spend the day with my girl.” His chin rested on your shoulder. “Please, sweetheart?” You knew his honey brown eyes were boring into you. You were putty in his hands when he begged. 

“You made breakfast?” You sighed.

“Yes,” he said excitedly. Before you knew it, he had you trapped in his arms, carrying you to the kitchen. “I made your favorite,” he beamed setting you carefully in a chair.  

A plate of French toast and a steaming cup of coffee were placed in front of you.

“Eat up, sweetheart, we’re going for a hike,” he said excitedly before kissing your cheek.

~~~

Your stomach was doing somersaults as he parked at the trailhead. It had been ages since the two of you had been there. It was where he took you on your third date.

“Bradley,” you whispered as he killed the engine. You felt a bit nauseous. “You’re not about to propose are you?” Not that you wouldn’t say yes. You just would’ve wanted to get your nails done, maybe worn something cuter than one of his old TOPGUN tees.

“Sweetheart?” He asked, eyes narrowing as he looked you over. “Can’t a man want to spend a day with his beautiful girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you said sheepishly. You gnawed at your bottom lip. “It’s just…this is where we kissed for the first time…and where you said you loved me…where you asked me to move in…”

“Do you want me to propose today?” He asked with a chuckle. His smile faded as he studied your face, fingers harshly rubbing your palm. “Sweetheart, that wasn’t my plan today, but if you want me to propose, I will. I don’t have my mom’s ring quite yet and I haven’t talked to your parents, but I will get down on my knee and ask you to be mine forever if that’s what you want.” His brows were pinched together, making your heart shatter. He seemed off today, so on edge.

You quickly unbuckled yourself, sliding across the seat. You pulled him down for a kiss, letting your lips mold to his.

“When you do propose, make sure I’m not in one of your ratty old shirts,” you teased breathlessly.

“Noted,” he said huskily, leaning back in. 

But you were already opening your door by the time his eyes fluttered back open. “Race you to our spot,” you teased, slipping from the Bronco.

You ducked between the trees just beyond the trailhead. You wanted to lighten the mood, your anxiety put a damper on his plan, you could see it in his eyes. 

“Sweetheart?” Bradley called out, all but running down the path.

The worry in his voice coaxed butterflies into your stomach. You truly didn’t know what you did to deserve such a man.

“Took you long enough,” you jested, jumping out behind him.

You doubled over with giggles as he let out the highest squeal you’d ever heard. Tears slid down your cheeks as he started laughing with you.

“I’m sorry, Brad,” you all but wheezed once you were moving again. His hand found yours, sending electricity through your veins. 

“You got me good, sweetheart.” He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Do you remember our first hike here?”

“Baby, how could I forget?” You sighed. “You had to carry me all the way to the big rock at the top, insisting that my rolled ankle wouldn’t ruin a thing.”

“Well, I kissed it and made it better, didn’t I?” He gently squeezed your hand.

Your cheeks blazed at the memory. “You kissed a lot of things better that day,” you whispered huskily. Your lip slid between your teeth as you looked at him. His eyes were blown, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Well, ma’am, would you like a piggyback ride?” He asked, eyes flitting to your lips. “I can show you the most scenic make out spot on this side of La Jolla.”

Your skin blazed as two older women walked past you, nodding their hellos. You watched them disappear behind the brush before you hopped onto your boyfriend’s back.

“Lead the way, stud,” you whispered in his ear before playfully nipping at the lobe.

With a soft growl, Bradley started jogging up the hill.

~~~

Bradley had been hopeful that his plan had worked. You surely weren’t thinking about work as the two of you made out in the secluded overlook. At least he hoped you weren’t. The hickeys you left at the base of his neck made him think work was the last thing on your mind. He had to fight you off to even get you to go get pizza. 

But as he slid his keys into the bowl by the door, he noticed the set of your shoulders. Your head hung forward slightly as you disappeared down the hall. It seemed like all the fun the two of you had evaporated the second you stepped through the door. 

Bradley’s heart was shattering. He closed his eyes, wishing his mom was still alive, she would know what to do. A small smile filled his lips. Carole Bradshaw always knew what to do, if she didn’t, she suggested—

“A bubble bath,” he whispered to himself. He smiled warmly at the picture of his parents you insisted on hanging. “Thanks, Mom.”

He walked down the hall to find you on the bed, staring at your hands. The frown tugging at your lips tugged on the strings of his heart. He’d try anything to get you to smile. “Hey, sweetheart?” He said softly. He gulped a breath down when he saw your eyes. Fuck. He hated it when your eyes were even brimming with sadness. It was usually only when you weren’t feeling well. He supposed you weren’t feeling well at that moment either. How did he not catch onto your Sunday blues sooner?

“Want to get a bath? I’ll rub your shoulders too,” he offered. His heart was thrumming as he waited for your answer. What was he going to do if you said no?

“Do we have any bath bombs?” You asked mischievously. He wasn’t particularly fond of your bath bomb collection, but if it would make you feel better, he’d use anything you wanted.

“I picked up a few at the store last week,” he said, chest puffing with pride. Your giggle was addictive, rewarding given the task at hand. He could listen to your laugh for an eternity and it wouldn’t be enough. “Want to grab some candles while I get the water going?”

He snagged you by the waist as you went to pass him, pulling you close to his chest. He peppered your neck with kisses until your body was shaking from your laughter. It took every ounce of restraint to let you go.

He tried not to think about the sorrow in your eyes as he let the tub fill. He pulled up his “Sweetheart” playlist to fill the room. He couldn’t help but dance along as some of your favorite tunes floated from his phone, slowly stripping his clothes as he went. 

After about three songs, Bradley realized you still weren’t back. Panic seized him, his stomach knotting. The candles were just down the hall. He turned to find you propped up against the door, lip between your teeth. He felt heat rush up his neck. He didn’t try to cover up, he simply leaned against the counter, missing and almost falling on his face.

“How…how long have you been standing there?” He asked sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. He noticed the lit candles on the vanity sink.

“Long enough to enjoy the show, Magic Mike,” you teased playfully. “Want to help me get out of these?” You tugged on your shirt as you winked.

He felt himself hardening already under your darkening gaze. Dammit. If he helped you, the two of you wouldn’t make it into the bath.

He cleared his throat trying to clear his mind. “Sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “Why don’t I get in the tub, and you give me a little show?” He didn’t wait for your response, slipping into the tub. “It’s the least you could do after getting a free show,” he husked, playfully.

It took every ounce of self-control to keep his hands securely wrapped around the edges of the tub as you started to sway your hips with the music. He barely even registered anything other than you. Your eyes were lust blown as you slowly slipped his shirt off. His knuckles were white as he registered the lacy blue sports bra that he loved. Some of his best memories involved that bra. He was hoping you would take it off next, spilling your perfect breasts to his gaze. But you turned, wiggling your running shorts down slowly, revealing your ass. He gulped thickly as his lungs began to pump furiously for air. He was painfully hard already as you walked closer to the tub, lacy blue thong and bra still on. 

He cursed himself internally because he was supposed to be taking care of you. Now he was trying his hardest to think with his big head instead of his little one. 

You leaned in close, ghosting your lips over his, before turning away, slowly sliding the thong down your thighs. His heart was pounding in his ears as the temperature of the water seemed to rise with his blood. Your bra was unceremoniously tossed to the floor, your back to him. He caught a glimpse of you in the mirror and he wasn’t sure how the coil building in his stomach didn’t snap. Guilt coursed through him, but then you giggled. 

He was in such a daze, trying not to blow his load already that he didn’t register that you were climbing into the tub, bath bomb in your hand. He caught your smile as you settled between his legs.

“How was that lieutenant?” You purred leaning against his chest.

“You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart,” he growled in your ear. His hands dipped under the water, sliding around your middle. “This was supposed to be relaxing,” he sighed.

“I’m far from relaxed, baby,” you said coyly. Your lips brushed over his pulse point. A growl rippled from his chest. His hands seemed to work on their own, skimming over your breasts, tweaking your nipples. He was going to help you relax if it was the last thing he did.

“Brad,” you whined softly. Your eyes were screwed shut, head thrown back into his neck. His breath was becoming ragged. He brushed his lips along your forehead as he let a hand slide under the water, fingers honing in on your clit. His smile grew as your back arched at the contact.

“Like that, sweetheart?” He rasped. 

He watched your mouth open and close, a series of small moans and whimpers falling from your plush lips.

“Are you more relaxed?” He purred as he slipped a finger between your folds.

“Oh, baby…Brad…oh,” you whimpered, spurring his movements to grow faster, a second finger to be added. You were moving your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers and his blood was on fire. His cock twitched as the desire blooming in his stomach was reaching its peak.

“Fall apart on my fingers, sweetheart,” he panted. He was barely keeping his own climax at bay. But then he felt your entire body stiffen, an ungodly loud moan floating from your chest. He felt your walls squeezing his fingers, as you rode out your release. He lost vision as his own orgasm washed over him, your moans and the soft music the only thing tethering him to the world. He hadn’t cum that hard since you wore the red lingerie set for him when he got back from his latest deployment.

When Bradley came to, you were curled into his chest, eyes shut, breathing even. He felt warm despite the cold water the two of you were in. He kissed your hair, closing his eyes. He squeezed you impossibly closer, never wanting to let you go. If this was the new normal on Sundays, he wasn’t going to complain.

~~

Your alarm was blaring, jolting you awake. The room was dark, the space next to you empty. The clock told you it was five. You must’ve fallen asleep in the tub. You felt light at the thought of Bradley getting you ready for bed.

But then your second alarm went off and you knew you needed to get ready for work. Dread washed over you as you realized you never did your Sunday chores. At least you didn’t remember doing them. Your lunch was waiting in the fridge as always, so maybe you did do a few things after all.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it, Pete was waiting outside to drop you off on his way to work. Guilt weighed you down as you scurried out the front door to his Jeep. Bradley had been adamant that you were not driving to work anymore after the side mirror incident. You understood his point, but that didn’t do much to quell the embarrassment you felt as you ran out to whoever’s car it was that day.

But soon even that feeling was lost. You were stuck with Bill, the unbearable hematology lead all morning, barely a moment to think for yourself. Anger bubbled inside you as he barked out tasks for you, he himself not moving an inch from his chair. He left you with a stack of critical results to call when he went on his lunch. You were so close to just walking out and never looking back.

Maybe that was why you were so caught off guard when you finally sat down to eat your lunch and you found a note from Bradley.

Sweetheart,

Hope your day is going well. Couldn’t let my girl starve, could I? I even threw in a couple kisses. I hope they can hold you over until I get home.

All my love,

Bradley

Tears streamed down your face as it hit you that he put you to bed and packed your lunch. He even cut your sandwich into a heart, making yours flutter. This man was perfect and somehow, he chose you.

Anticipation bubbled throughout you as your day ended. You wanted to see him, needed to see him. Bob hadn’t even stopped his truck before you hopped out. 

“Bradley?” You called, as you kicked off your shoes. You expected to find your boyfriend relaxing on the couch when you got home. A sizzling from the kitchen had you running. The room was tinged with smoke and every alarm bell went off in your head. But you froze. There he was. Your boyfriend, wearing your favorite Hawaiian shirt with the palm trees on it. Your heart swelled just watching him. Whatever he was making smelled delectable.

“Bradley?” You repeated softly.

He turned, smile filling his face. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, making your knees week.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” He asked as he closed the distance between the two of you.

He placed a delicate peck on your lips, the taste of salt and hops lingering on his. Your shoulders relaxed instantly at his touch.

“Terrible,” you sighed. “Apparently it’s my fault that Bill was scheduled to work four to three like the rest of us tomorrow,” you huffed. “Some fucking leader.” You shut your eyes tight. “Told Annie about it since she’s the only one above a lead and she told me to grow a backbone.”

Bradley slid a margarita across the counter to you. You took a sip, letting the salty sweetness wash away all of your stress. “But someone left me kisses in my lunch,” you added softly.

He leaned across the countertop, stopping inches from your lips. “Well, it worked, sweetheart,” he purred. You felt dizzy being so close to him. “You made it home to me.” He pecked your lips before shutting off the burners.

“What’cha making, chef?” You asked leaning forward.

“Your favorite,” he said proudly. “Pepper encrusted steaks.” He took off the apron from around his neck. “I have something for you.”

Your heart was pounding as he disappeared down the hall.  Tears stung in your eyes as you caught a glimpse of your dinner. He only made that dish for your birthday or your anniversary.

“Close your eyes,” he called out. 

You squeezed them shut comically tight, not wanting to ruin whatever surprise he had planned. 

“Open,” he said softly.

A large bouquet of roses was staring back at you. You were so overwhelmed. The tears started pouring down your face in streams. Bradley had you in his arms before you could even protest.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He whispered. His thumb traced lazy circles on your arm.

“What’s going on, Bradley?” You asked meekly. “Between yesterday and today…did something happen? Is it another deployment?”

“Sweetheart, you’ve been struggling for a while on Sunday nights,” he explained gently. “It breaks my heart seeing you so upset. I didn’t know how else to help.”

You pulled him impossibly closer, sobbing onto his chest. You didn’t realize it until he mentioned it, that was the best Sunday you’d had in a while. French toast and a hike to your favorite spot. And that relaxing bath. Your body was trembling as you combed over the day. How did you not see his ulterior motives?

“Sweetheart?” He asked, brushing tears from your cheeks.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You whispered. You watched color rush to his cheeks through your tear-filled eyes.

“You’ve got it backwards,” he chuckled. He leaned in, kissing you softly. “I don’t deserve you.” He paused, kissing your nose. “And I’m going to do everything I can to make you happy, sweetheart.” He brushed his nose against yours. “Because I love you so much that it hurts me when you’re hurt.”

“I love you, Bradley,” you breathed onto his lips, “I love you so much.” 

Tagging anyone I think might enjoy this!

@sylviebell @xcastawayherosx @blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe @roosterforme @townmoondaltwistle @ereardon @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @discount-shades @xomrsalliej4787xo @emorychase @yanna-banana @endofdays56 @mothdruid @tongue-like-a-razor @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger

I do not consent to my work being copied, translated, or published anywhere else.

NOT ME ASKING FOR REQUESTS ALL THIS TIME AND NEVER HAVING TURNED MY INBOX ON I AM SO 😭

anyways, my inbox is NOW open to requests!

the temptation to re-read all of @roosterforme’s rooster fics tonight with a bottle of wine is so strong

Top Gun: Maverick (2022) + Miles Teller + Letterboxd Reviews