#one day i'll write a bradley that is confident in himself and loves himself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roosterforme · 1 year ago

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How You Play the Game Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley wins a box seat ticket for the first game of the World Series final, he doesn't think his day could get any better. But when he's given a seat in the press box by mistake, he meets a gorgeous sports writer from New York. And he has one of the best nights of his life.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and smut (18+)

Length: 6300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was half asleep, sipping on his coffee while he drove to North Island from his house in the soft pre dawn light. He really hated these early training days that started at six o'clock and didn't end until after dinnertime. He'd be in the air all day, and then he'd probably be too tired to stay awake to watch game one of the World Series.

Everyone on base was excited that the Padres were playing the Angels. A Southern California showdown for the ages. Tickets to game one in San Diego were selling for almost a thousand dollars per seat, but the sports radio host Bradley was listening to was giving them away.

Bradley yawned as the host asked, "Who was the first major league baseball player to pitch a ball over 100 miles per hour?"

"That's easy," Bradley mumbled. "Nolan Ryan." And then he realized that it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps nobody else who was listening knew that fact. "Huh," he grunted, reaching for his phone at a red light. He dialed the number and was shocked when he got through to the host.

"Good morning, caller! What's your name? Where are you from?"

"I'm Bradley. From Coronado."

"Do you have an answer for me, Bradley? Which major league player was the first to pitch over 100 miles per hour?"

"That would be Nolan Ryan."

"You sound confident in your baseball knowledge," the host replied. "Double or nothing? I'll upgrade your ticket to a seat in a box suite if you can tell me which team Ryan was pitching against."

Bradley smiled to himself as he pictured the boxes of his dad's old baseball cards that he still had in his garage. "He was pitching against the Chicago White Sox."

And just like that, Bradley was the proud owner of a suite ticket for game one of the World Series at Petco Park later that night.

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Your flight from New York to San Diego had been delayed so many times, you were a little surprised you managed to get to your hotel in your rental car and then make it to the game on time. At least you'd been able to start writing your article on the flight. Unless the game went into extra innings, you should be able to finish by your midnight deadline. Because if there was one thing the New York Times didn't mess around with, it was the hard cutoff for your submissions.

As you made your way to the media entrance at Petco Park, you pulled out your lanyard with your credentials and looped it around your neck. As soon as someone learned that you were a sports writer for the most prestigious newspaper in the country, they were either impressed or they did a double take. You were a freshly thirty year old female with a ten year career in sports journalism, and you didn't take shit from any guys about it.

In fact, you loved it when men tried to one up you. Because they never could. You knew more than they did about sports, you were an amazing writer, and you found pleasure in shutting them down. Preferably in front of their friends. And then they would inevitably try to ask you out. And you would shut that down, too. It was a game that you were very good at now.

As you were scanned into the ballpark by a security officer, you quickly made your way up to your assigned press box. You expected the heavy hitters to be there. And of course you'd be the youngest, and probably one of just a few women in attendance. As you climbed the narrow stairs and swiped your badge one last time, you opened the door and strolled past a table filled with food and drinks. And then you saw them: Carl from ESPN, Jack from The Chicago Tribune, Harold from the Los Angeles Times, and Quincy from the Philadelphia Inquirer. You would keep your guard up, because it was just a matter of time before one of them made some sort of comment about your ability to do your job.

The room was already filling up as you claimed a spot on one of the narrow counters where you could set up your computer and get to work. You removed your lanyard and tossed it next to your stuff, and then you waved to Raya from MSN Sports, the only other female in the room. When you turned to grab a drink and some food, you noticed the flash of a handsome face and a mustache. And then you stifled a scream as you saw and felt a plastic cup of cold beer meet your chest before soaking the front of you completely.

"Oh, fuck!" came the deep, raspy voice of the most handsome man you could remember seeing in recent history as he stared at your chest. You supposed it was a fair trade, because you couldn't look away from his face no matter what you did. He was hot; all tan skin, brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. And the blush that crept in and colored his cheeks made him look boyish as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

When he swallowed hard, and his eyes drifted down to your chest again, you looked down as well. Great. Your light blue lace bra was plainly visible through your white blouse, and the beer was even dripping onto your jeans and your new, white Chucks.

You just shook your head and shrugged. "It's okay. Shit happens. But why did you bring a beer in here?" you asked. But he still looked so embarrassed and flustered, you decided to mess with him. "Who do you write for? I'll send them my laundry bill."

"Write?" he asked, and yep, that was confirmation that he had the sexiest voice you had ever heard.

"Yeah," you said, feeling a little flustered yourself as you reached for some napkins to dab your shirt dry. "Tampa Bay Times? Boston Globe? Oh Lord, don't tell me you're from Barstool Sports. I don't recognize you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." That was a lie; you would definitely have remembered him.

"No," he said, watching your every move. "I don't write."

You laughed as his gaze flicked up from your chest to your eyes when you looked up at him. "That explains the alcohol, then. But why are you in the press box? Did you get lost up here?"

He smirked at that. "No. I won a radio contest and got a seat in a box suite. But somehow my ticket got mixed up, and they sent me a media pass instead."

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him up and down now. "I had to pay for a four year journalism degree for my media pass, and you're going to tell me I could have just listened to the radio?"

His laugh was infectious and his smile made you a little giddy as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bradley. I don't think I could manage to write an article about sports, even if I was getting paid to do it. You must be very talented." You preened a bit at his words as you shook his hand. "And I'm really sorry about the beer," he added, gesturing to your shirt. "I'd offer to get you a drink or dinner, but the food in here is free, and you're actually working. So, I'll just stand here like an idiot and keep shaking your hand and apologizing until you tell me your name and tell me to stop. I'm really sorry about your shirt." He was still shaking your hand, and now you couldn't stop smiling.

You told him your first name and then you said, "You can stop shaking my hand now, Bradley."

"Let me grab you some water?" he asked, and when you nodded, he turned toward the bar in the far corner. And you took in his tall frame, broad shoulders and massive biceps which were highlighted by his Padres shirt.

"Oh no," you whispered to yourself, still mindlessly dabbing your wet blouse with some napkins.

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Bradley turned toward you with two water bottles, and thankfully this time he managed to keep the drinks in his hands. You were so fucking cute, and your wet shirt was doing crazy things to him. He couldn't stop smiling, and when you looked up at him and cautiously accepted your drink, you were smiling too.

"Thanks for not drenching me again," you said, tapping your drink to his. And then Bradley heard an older guy call your name, and you turned in his direction.

"Nice shirt," he shouted so everyone was suddenly looking your way. "That how you plan on getting an exclusive with one of the players? Sex sells now? I thought this was about the game."

Bradley was appalled that another journalist was talking to you like that, but before he could say that your wet shirt was actually his fault, you were shouting back at the guy.

"Harold, you couldn't even drag your sorry, old ass down to the field fast enough to get an exclusive with the mascot. I don't know how you're not retired or dead yet. Didn't you cover the 1922 World Series?"

Bradley watched Harold purse his lips at you before he turned away and took a seat. And when Bradley glanced down at you as you sipped your water, you looked completely unfazed. And he was ridiculously turned on.

"Damn, nobody should be messing with you," he said, thoroughly impressed. "You're an Ace."

You just rolled your eyes, but you looked very pleased by his words. He already knew he wanted to talk to you all night, but now you were setting your drink down next to your computer and opening it as you sat. "This is a boys club. Just a dick measuring contest. I can't let up for a second or I'll get steamrolled."

Bradley let his eyes dip down to your damp shirt as he asked, "I don't want to commit another beer related crime. You seem to know how this press box stuff works. Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," you told him as you licked your lips. "As long as you don't spill anything else on me."

Bradley eased himself down on the stool next to yours, and his knee brushed your thigh. He watched you filling out a baseball stat sheet while you opened up a document on your computer.

"So what was the trivia question?" you asked as you sipped your water again.

"Trivia question?" he murmured, watching your lips wrap around the rim of the bottle before you took a drink.

"Yeah, isn't that how you won the pass? For the box seat? Even though you're slumming it with the journalists now?"

"I wouldn't call this slumming it," he said, eyeing your pretty face. "But yeah, they asked who was the first pitcher to throw a ball over 100 miles per hour."

"Oh. Nolan Ryan. Angels versus the White Sox. Nice," you said as you smiled at him. Fuck. You liked sports. You wrote about sports. You were gorgeous, and you knew more about sports than he did. Bradley let his mind drift to peeling off your damp, white shirt and licking the taste of beer off your chest while you moaned baseball stats and ran your fingers through his hair. He could definitely get into that. He briefly wondered if you were going to be at the next game here on Sunday.

And then you were keeping the game stats in your notebook at the same time you typed up notes, and Bradley realized he had missed the first few pitches. "Oof, that was a sloppy curveball," you muttered as you peered down at the field before checking the overhead screen. "He's supposed to be their Ace."

"Nah, you're the Ace," Bradley said, and you turned to grin at him as your fingers brushed against his. There was not a lot of room at this little countertop, and when you tried to nudge his arm out of the way, he wrapped it around the back of your stool.

"How am I supposed to keep my stats with you taking up so much space?" you asked, but your tone sounded playful, and you leaned a little closer to him. "You're massive."

Those words spoken in your voice had his cock stirring. "Yeah well, not a lot I can do about that, Ace."

That grin was back as you tapped the end of your pencil against your lips, and his gaze followed the motion. "So what do you do, Bradley? I'm going to guess you're not a waiter since you can't walk without spilling drinks. And you're definitely not a writer."

"I'm a pilot. A naval aviator," he told you softly, running his thumb along your back and watching you bite your lip.

"Fascinating," you told him before returning your attention back to the game and scribbling down the pitch count. And that's when Bradley's gaze landed on your badge which was sitting next to your computer.

He recognized your full name immediately. "Holy shit. You write for the New York Times."

"Yeah," you replied, turning to look at him before pulling your lip between your teeth again.

"Ace. I recognize your name. You're the best sports writer in the country."

Bradley was blushing, he knew he must be, but your bright smile was focused on him, and he couldn't keep his fingertips from drawing lazy shapes along your back where his hand rested.

"You know me?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at you. "You're famous. I read your articles all the time. I downloaded the New Your Times app solely for you."

When you laughed and gently bit the eraser end of your pencil, Bradley groaned. "You're funny," you told him.

"You're gorgeous." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself. He thought about apologizing, but then you leaned in a little closer and ran your pencil eraser up his thigh along his jeans.

"Stop distracting me," you whispered, kissing his cheek before returning your attention to your computer. Your lips had brushed the end of his mustache, and he could still feel the soft sensation there as you gazed at him from the corner of your eyes. This was going to be a long night for Bradley.

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Bradley had called you gorgeous. He was playful, and he kept a smile on your lips. When he made a comment about the Angels' catcher, you told him, "You're completely right. I'm adding that to my piece." And he blushed that deep shade of pink again.

"Damn, Ace. I'll be thinking about your voice when I read your article tomorrow morning."

"Mm," you hummed, marking down another strikeout. "It would be fun to read it to you. I think you'd blush. The whole time."

His lips were parted, and he looked a little surprised. "It would be the filthiest of dirty talk," he muttered, and when you giggled, he grinned.

You had to bite your lip against the desire to kiss his cheek again. "World Series articles and pitching stats? That's what's gonna do it for you, Bradley?"

"Shit, how dirty can you make those pitching stats?" he whispered, thumb still skimming along the back of your shirt.

"You'd be surprised," you told him, shooting him an innocent look as he nodded at you.

"I'm sure I would."

The more you scribbled down in your notebook as the game progressed, the closer Bradley got to you. His big palm was warm on your back and you found yourself leaning into him more and more. By the eighth inning, his leg was pressed up against yours and he just kept getting closer.

"Ace, you're killing me," he murmured, taking your pencil and erasing the sloppy note you had written about the Padres relief pitcher. "Let me help."

You laughed as he rewrote your note very neatly followed by what you assumed was his phone number. Oh, he was a bold one. Very handsome, very funny and very bold.

Without a word, he handed your pencil back to you. "What am I supposed to do with that?" you asked, tapping his phone number with the pencil.

His breath was warm on your cheek as he said, "Save it in your phone. Call it. Text it. Let it know when you're in San Diego. I don't know, Ace. I just like you."

Your lips parted right as the Padres catcher hit a home run, and as everyone else in the ballpark erupted in cheers or groans, Bradley pressed his lips softly to yours. And then you tossed your pencil aside and ran your hand up along his neck. His lips were soft, but damn, his mustache was rough and you liked it.

You pulled back a few inches. "And if I text you, you're going to write back?" you asked.

"Immediately," he promised.

"Well then maybe I'll save your number."

He groaned softly as you marked down the home run. "Are you covering game two on Sunday?" he asked as the ninth inning started.

"I'm covering every game," you told him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. The soft noise he made had you scraping your fingernails softly along his jeans as he watched your hand instead of the game. "I'll be back and forth between San Diego and Los Angeles for the next two weeks or so, if they go to seven games. Which, in my professional opinion, they will."

After your fingers grazed his zipper, you watched his head tip back, the veins in his neck working as he swallowed. You were pretty turned on now, too. And the way he was responding to you was making things worse by the minute.

"I'm gonna have to drop a grand on a ticket to see you back here on Sunday, aren't I?" he asked as you shrugged and ran your finger along his belt loop. Then you released him and turned back to type a few sentences for your article.

"Listen," you told him without looking at him. "There's no guarantee I'm even going to let you have my number, so I wouldn't worry about that just yet."

He was quiet for a beat as you typed away, and then he said, "How about you let me buy you a drink for real? Right after the game tonight?"

"I have a deadline to meet," you told him, and he looked disappointed as he nodded. "But my article is almost done. And my hotel is right across the street. We could go to the bar there?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, his fingers still at your back. "Anywhere you want."

As soon as the game ended with a Padres victory, you tossed your computer and notebook into your bag, and you were on your feet next to Bradley. "Let's get out of here."

You took his big hand in yours, glancing up at him occasionally as you tried to beat most of the crowd to the exit. And each time, he was looking back at you, smiling. You led him across the parking lot, and your hotel was in sight when you pushed him up against the brick wall outside of the ballpark. Bradley welcomed your body against his, and he looked at you like he couldn't believe this was happening just before you kissed him.

It was dark over here, even the streetlights were dim. His hands were on your back as your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were rubbing yourself gently against him.

"Ace," he grunted against your lips. "You gotta let me buy you that drink."

You could feel him growing harder for you as you kissed him and tasted his tongue. Suddenly the hotel bar was the farthest thing from your mind. It had been replaced by thoughts of your hotel room bed instead.

"Come on, Bradley," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and leading him further down the sidewalk. He went with you willingly, leaning down to kiss your cheek and your neck as you waited in a crowd of people for the light to change at the crosswalk.

"You smell good. Like the beer I spilled on you," he groaned, holding you close. The movement of his lips had his mustache prickling your neck. You wanted to feel it on all your sensitive skin. You wanted to see if you could make him blush in bed.

You and he stumbled across the street and into the hotel lobby where you eyed the bar as he wrapped his big hand around your waist. You looked up at him and asked, "Wanna skip the bar and go up to my room? Find out if I taste good like the beer, too?"

The sound of Bradley's groan as his hand slid down to your butt had you pressing yourself against his thigh. "Lead the way, Ace."

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The elevator ride to the top floor was filled with the sound of kissing as well as the little gasping noises you made. Your hands were at the fly of his jeans as he pushed you back against the wall and devoured your mouth. Bradley was so hard and ready for you, he was honestly surprised. He just met you. This was not a usual occurrence for him.

"Bradley," you moaned, unbuttoning his jeans as the elevator jolted to a stop. You abandoned his jeans for his hand and pulled him down the hallway, running toward your room and laughing. You stopped in front of one of the doors and started to dig in your bag.

He stood behind you and ran his lips along your neck as you gasped for him. You were so responsive, stroking something deep down inside of Bradley every time you reacted to him. He wrapped his hands around to the front of your jeans and started to play with your button as well. When his fingers met the soft skin of your belly, your head tipped back against him.

"I can't find my room key," you moaned as he ran his hands up inside your shirt. He watched as you gripped the bag with both hands and let your eyes drift closed.

"You're not really trying very hard, Baby," he said with a smirk. He couldn't believe you right now. So pretty and so lost to his touch. He was throbbing and aching for you, too.

"Because you're teasing me!" you complained with a laugh. But then you turned in his arms, and suddenly Bradley's hands were on your bare back. Your eyes were wide, bag clutched between your body and his. "This is... not something that I usually do. Especially not when I'm on the job." Your voice was soft, and as you nervously bit your lip, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"Same, Ace," he promised with a smirk. "In fact, I've never had a woman seduce me this quickly before. You're irresistible."

Your laughter was the best thing he had ever heard. "I thought I was the one being seduced here?"

"No," he said, reaching into your bag and plucking out the key. "You're in charge." He handed it to you, and you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him hard before you turned and unlocked the door with your other hand. You pulled Bradley with you as you stumbled backwards into the dark room.

As you searched blindly for the light switch, you pushed Bradley against the wall. You had your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and your tongue was in his mouth as you located the switch.

"That's better," you mumbled breathlessly as you turned on the light, and Bradley pulled away from you a few inches.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he tightened his right arm around your waist. He wasn't being shy about how hard he was for you, and you weren't being shy either. You whimpered as you rubbed yourself gently against him, and he ran his thumb along your cheek and down to your lips. "I haven't been this turned on in so long."

Then Bradley watched you reach down and pull off your white shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you in that sinful looking blue bra before him. You were stroking him through his jeans with your right hand when you whispered, "I thought you were going to taste me, Bradley." Your eyes were wide and innocent looking as you challenged him.

He nodded slowly. "I wanna taste you everywhere." Then he scooped you up as you laughed, and he carried you to the king sized bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You gonna let me do that?"

"Yes," you whispered right next to his ear, and Bradley eased you down onto the bed with his body weight on top of you. As you started tugging on his Padres shirt, he managed to remove his shoes before reaching down both of your calves and yanking yours off. He tossed them blindly behind himself, wincing as he hit the wall with both of them.

But you just laughed and pulled his tee shirt up, leaving him in his white tank. You were holding his shirt in your hand as he pressed his lips to yours. "You taste so good here," he whispered, running his tongue along your bottom lip as you wrapped your leg around his hip. Then he kissed your chest before licking a stripe across the top of your lace bra as you bucked your core against him. "Fuck," he groaned. He licked and sucked on the top of your right tit. "Your skin tastes like that spilled beer. I love it on you."

"Well then, you better clean me up with your tongue, since it's your fault in the first place." You tipped your head back, and arched your back off the bed, and Bradley followed your lead, letting his big hands find the clasp of your bra. You moaned softly as he unhooked it and moved his fingers around to ease the fabric away from your body.

"God damn," he groaned before taking your nipple between his lips. Your fingers were tight in his hair as he sucked on you, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your other breast.

"Bradley!" you cried out when he rubbed his mustache across your nipple. He was dying to fuck you, but you were letting him tease the hell out of you, and he was loving this.

"You like that?" he asked, enjoying all the cues you were giving him. He couldn't stop grinning as you whimpered a soft little yes before pulling his undershirt off.

When you ran your fingers through his chest hair and down his abs, Bradley swallowed hard. Because you didn't stop there. You reached right for his unbuttoned jeans and eased his zipper down. He held himself over you, looking down into your needy eyes as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his underwear before delving inside. You licked your pouty lips before you wrapped your hand around his cock, and then you closed the distance up to his lips with the softest, sweetest kiss. You stroked him slowly while barely brushing your lips against his, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

"Ace," he grunted, and you squeezed your hand around his cock and giggled while he moaned for you. Then you gasped and let go of him. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately pulling himself away from you while he panted.

Your eyes looked concerned, so he put a little more distance between your bodies. "I don't have any condoms," you whispered as you eased your hand away from him.

Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead. "I think I have one in my wallet. It's new."

"Oh," you gasped. "Should have known," you told him. "You're pretty gorgeous, too."

Bradley wanted to ease your mind, let you know that he didn't hook up with a lot of women anymore. He wanted to tell you that the condom was there for just a special occasion like this one. He wanted to explain to you that the last few he'd had in his wallet had been sacrificed to Jake when he'd been in a pinch at the bar.

But you were easing him onto his back, and he supposed it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It wasn't like you were going to want more from him than just tonight. Besides, he hadn't had anything that wasn't casual in a very long time.

You were on top of him now, straddling his waist in your unbuttoned jeans, and you were reaching for both of his hands. And when you had your fingers laced with his and pinned his hands over his head, Bradley closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your lips were soft on his face and your thumbs were stroking along his palms in a way that was not only turning him on more, but also providing him with some comfort.

When you whispered his name, he opened his eyes and he felt surprised by the realization that he only met you tonight.

"Maybe you should get that condom ready?" you asked softly, rolling your hips against Bradley's torso.

"Yeah," he grunted. And then you were easing down his body, taking his jeans and underwear with you. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow as his cock sprang free. You made eye contact with him, lips parted on a soft whimper.

"Bradley," you sighed, tugging his jeans, underwear and socks completely off.

Before you tossed everything aside, he mumbled, "Grab my wallet, Baby." Your eyes met his with so much need before you focused on taking the leather out of the pocket of his jeans, it had him reaching for you.

You shoved it into his hand before you scrambled back up his body and brushed your fingers through his hair, kissing his lips like he was every goddamn thing you wanted.

Bradley removed the condom and tossed his wallet onto the floor. Then he had you underneath him again. You still smelled like the spilled beer as he kissed his way along your chest, and you were trying to wriggle out of your jeans. "I can take care of that," he whispered, pressing the condom into your hand. Then he had every scrap of fabric removed from your body, and he didn't know if he could handle how perfect you really were. "Ace," he groaned when you eased your feet up his biceps and let your ankles rest on his shoulders.

Bradley's lips found the inside of your right thigh as if he was drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes were half lidded, and you had one hand in his hair and one on your tits. How was he going to recover from this?

"Let me taste you," he begged, and when you nodded, his lips were on your pussy immediately. He groaned, already addicted to the way you tasted here too. He kissed along your slit and buried his nose against your clit.

"Oh!" you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and spreading your legs wider for him. Bradley's cock was throbbing against the bedding as he slid his tongue up through your soaking wet pussy until his lips were wrapped around your clit.

"Yesss," you hissed, gently riding his face as you whispered his name. And with each stroke of his tongue, you got a little louder, your fingers pulled his hair a little more. Oh, he was so fucking turned on for you, he wasn't sure he'd last more than a minute once he had that condom on.

"Bradley!" you gasped, pressing your heel into his back while he sucked on your clit. "Put the condom on."

It took him a little bit to get his lips away from your pussy, because he really wanted to get you off with his mouth. But then he rationalized that you wanted him to get you off with his dick instead, and that sounded perfect, too.

"Okay," he panted, brushing his wet mustache against your belly as you opened the condom for him. He rolled it on and kissed your lips as he pressed himself to your core. Now you were holding him in place by his hair as you returned his kisses, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip into you. You felt warm and tight and perfect, and as you took every inch of him, he stroked his thumb along your cheek.

"Oh god," you whimpered, frantically kissing him and licking his mustache. Your voice was coming in little gasps, and he loved the sound of it.

Bradley withdrew and thrust back inside you, and you rolled your hips with his. "You gotta tell me what you like, Ace. I want to make you feel good."

He watched your eyes go a little wider before you reached for his hand. When you took his index and middle fingers between your lips and started sucking on him while he fucked you, he groaned. "Baby. God that feels fucking great. But don't make me cum yet."

With a soft whimper, you swirled your tongue along his fingers before popping them out of your mouth and guiding his hand down between your bodies to your clit. Bradley had to suck in a deep breath and think about one of his superior officers leading a boring lecture to keep himself in check. He never felt close to the edge this fast, but as he ran his wet fingers along your clit and fucked you into the bed, he knew he could cum if he let himself.

"Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his face against your neck. "Harder."

He bit his lip and fucked you harder while you whined his name, and he kept his fingers on your clit, trying to work you up. He needed to get you off. He absolutely needed to do this. Because he was hoping you'd call him or text him. He wanted you to save his number and use it. He was already dying for more.

"Ace," he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck as your fingers drifted down his shoulders to his back.

You moaned, "I like it when you call me that," so Bradley pressed the nickname against your lips with his until you were gasping and clenching around him. When you came for him, you took his fingers from your clit and laced your hand with his as his movements grew more erratic.

He was saying something as he came inside you, but he wasn't exactly sure what. And you were looking up at him with a soft, fucked out smile and pushing his hair away from his forehead with your warm hand. And then you let him collapse on top of you while he was still buried inside you, and you ran your fingers back through his hair.

Bradley settled his cheek against your chest and let himself enjoy the feel of your breathing evening out after your orgasm. You were still making soft sounds as you rubbed your calf along his leg. He could have stayed just like this all night. You felt that good.

Just as he looked up at you, about to ask if there was any way you'd want to see him again this weekend, you laughed softly.

"Wow. That was fun."

Fun. He wanted to be more than a fun time. "And good, I hope?" he asked softly.

"More than good," you whispered, laughing again. "Amazing."

Bradley smiled at you, and he knew he was blushing. "Yeah. Amazing is the right word for it."

And you were smiling so much, Bradley laughed as you tried to hide behind your hand. He leaned in and kissed your wrist. "Ace, I-"

Bradley jerked away from you as an alarm went off somewhere in the room. When you sat up, he gently eased himself out of you with a grunt.

"That's my thirty minute warning," you told him, scrambling out of bed. "I need to finish my article and submit it."

"Oh," he said, watching you bend to locate your phone. "Right."

You looked at him and licked your lips nervously as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. And then you bent to start retrieving your clothing, and Bradley's heart sank as he stood as well. Wordlessly, he went into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash his hands, and when he came back out, you were dressed in your underwear and the white shirt he had messed up.

"I guess," he whispered, pulling on his own underwear, "I should go then."

You pressed your lips together and nodded slightly. "I guess so."

"Okay," he said, quickly getting himself dressed in everything except his Padres tee. He just held that while he looked at you. "You have my number."

"I do," you whispered.

"You can use it," he told you with a smile, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. And then your lips were on his. And then your fingers were in his hair again.

You moaned and then pulled away from him, and Bradley forced himself to walk backwards to the door, not wanting to take his eyes off you.

"Bye, Bradley."

He didn't want to say goodbye to you, so he said, "See ya, Ace," and then he was out in the hallway with the door closing behind him.

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

Oh, Bradley! I love Ace, and I hope you do, too! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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deepseagirl60 · 3 months ago

Text

Still Remains

Bradley Bradshaw x Jake Seresin Fanfiction

*This is my first Hangster fic. I'm nervous to post this. However here it goes. I have not written a fanfic in years all spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes, and punctuation mistakes are mine own.

I would love to post this on AO3 but would like a beta reader. Please be on your thoughts. Please be honest but not disrespectful & hopefull not too harsh if possible. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy my fanfic.

The Hard Deck is booming with 90's rock music playing in the background. Bradley walks over to the jukebox. He presses play S94 for the song "Still Remains" by The Stone Temple Pilots. Bradley then hears a familiar laugh by the pool table. He spots then spots Jake, his former rival now the man of dreams.

Jake & Bradley have been getting along better these last 9 months after Jake saving Bradley & Maverick after mission. Bradley has realized there is more to Jake's cocktail attitude. Jake apologized for his behavior.

Bradley had decided tonight is the night he will confess his feelings to Jake. He stares as Jake is laughing with Javy and Bob. Jake is currently winning the pool game. He has the confident look on his face.

Bradley has tought of all the ways tonight would go. He wanted to just go up to Jake & just kiss him. He also wanted to serenade him with a couple of songs until Jake sat on his lap & they confessed they love each other. Bradley thought about writing a letter to Jake & sending with a drink he would buy him.

Bradley now was listening to lyrics of the song.

Slipping orange blossom breezes

Love is still and sweat remains

A cherished gift, unselfish feeling

Oh, I'd beg for you

Oh, you know I'll beg for you

He knew now was time for him to go the blonde. Bradley who now at the bar & down a shot whiskey was ready to walk over to Jake to declare his love. However a monkey wrench just stopped him in his track. Jake's ex boyfriend Evan Myers just pushed Bob & Javy pushed out of the way. Jake and wrapped his arms Jake's waist. Jake's moss green eyes that were shinning so bright have no lost the light in them. Jake now has scowl on his face his gorgeous smile faded.

Bradley is hoping Jake doesn't want Ethan back after he found out Ethan cheated on him a year ago.

Bradley remembers the Jake him went to the beach one night after playing darts at the Hard Deck on night. They spoke about their families and past relationship.

Flashback

Bradley remembers the moon shining so bright on Jake's tanned face that night and they way his heart thundering in chest. The warm butterflies in stomach. He knew at the moment he got lost in his head. He was head over heels for Jake. He could listen to Jake talk for hours. Jake asked Bradley if he was okay. Bradley got red in the face. He said he was fine and just flush from drinks they had earlier.

Present Day

Bradley hears Jake yell in a shocked voice "Ethan what the ll are you doing get off me and don't ever push my friends again."

We are over after you cheating on me and breaking up with me through text asshole.

Ethan is Southern drawl said "I'm sorry babe you know you miss me." Let's get it out of hear." "You know you miss me besides who else would want your arrogant & perfectionist ass." I know how to put you in your place & give you what you need."

Bradley has heard enough. He storms over to the pool table in so swiftly, that Ethan & Jake don't notice. Bradley tells Ethan to leave alone Jake alone. Jake tells Bradley he can handle it himself. Ethan tells Bradley is still his and to back the fuck off. Bradley angrily grabs Ethan collared polo shirt and rips it and punches Ethan square in the jaw. Jake who the commotion landed in Javy's chest as he watches Bradley punch Ethan so hard he landed with a big thump on the floor of the Hard Deck.

Everyone is so shocked Natsha storms out of the kitchen with Penney she was helping Penney at the Hard Deck tonight since Penney was done a staff member tonight.

The bar is silent Jake looks at Bradley with shock, confusion, & rage in his eyes. Jake starts yelling at Bradley with thunderous in those moss greens eyes I'm not damsel in distress. I could deal with Ethan on my Bradley. Why did you do that? I don't need your help. Jake storms out of the bar.

Bradley is pissed that Jake is mad at him. He loves Jake so much. He know Jake deserves the world why doesn't he that and see that Bradley cares for him.

Bradley angrily stomps out of the Hard Deck. Bradley is now in the parking following a furious Jake in the rainstorm that has just started. The Summer air is cackling with and humidity and the tension is buidling in the rain like the tension building in Bradley's love sick heart.

Bradley knows now it's now or never. He has to get off his perch. The time has now to confess his love for Jake.

Bradley yells in frantic voice Jake please stop just listen to be please. I'm sorry your upset but please hear me out. The blonde stops as he is reaching black Ram truck. His back is turned to the brunette.

Jake says Bradley please go away. I don't need anything else from you. I have been emebrassed enough for tonight.

I know I'm sorry sweetheart Bradley says but please hear me out. I know your not a damsel in distress. However I couldn't stand by and listen that bastard Ethan talk to you like that.

Jake then turns around with shocked green eyes that are now softening towards Bradley. Bradley brown eyes are looking softly at Jake.

Bradley then says to "Jake" in a soft tone as the rain starts get more intense. Pounding on them listen Jake this not how I planned on confessing I'm in love with you tonight.

However here we are these last 9 months getting to know more even though we have know each other 11 years in total. We had out ups and downs. We were rivals always in each other pockets. I know we are two havles of one coin. Your the Yin to my Yang. I love the way you laugh, the way your eyes sparkle when you get excited. I love that you love Star Trek, that you love karaoke, how you love your family so much, the way love you dogs and our movies night and football Sundays . I also remember the day you told me "Give me Hell" that meant everything to me that you care. Then you out did yourself saving Mav & I. You are totally catch Jake under that cokcy and tough exterior you are a softy who cares for others. You have a big heart woth alot of love to give.

Bradley know realized he has tears in eyes along with rain. Jake also now has tears & rain in his eyes.

Jake mouth is gaping out and closing like a shocked fish gasping for air. Jake finally says Omg fucking you finally got off your perch Bradley.

I'm in love with you too Bradley. I just didn't think you could love someone like me and arrogant and perfectionist guy like me who can't even hold to a boyfriend.

Bradley you listen to me to ramble for hours about Star Trek and flying and cook amazing meals for me, give me rides when we car pool to work. We also have amazing conversations stargazing at the beach at night. You let me wear your Navy hoodie all the time. I let you see the real me without all the thorns and prickly edges.

Bradley and Jake didn't realize how close their faces are to eachother they were breathing in each other's faces. They are saying "I love you" to each other. The air around them cackling in the Summer rain air. They are not sure who made the first move. They are now kissing like their lives depended on it Bradley now deepening the kiss, curling his arm around Jake's waist bringing him closer. Jake wraps his arms around Bradley's neck stroking the back of Bradley's hair. They finally come up for air. Breathing harshly into eachother's mouths looking happily dazed at eachother look wow we finally kissed.

Jake laughs saying to Bradley leave it to us argue, kiss and confess our love in a fucking rainstorm. We are both such hot messes. Bradley now laughs and says we are just passionate people who love hard.

Bradley grabs Jake hand. He says let's go to my Bronco to continue this conversation before we catch a cold.

Bradley & Jake are both smiling while holding hands. They are remembering soft plush feeling of eachother's lips during their passionate kiss.

Jake & Bradley run in the rainstorm holding hands to Bradley's light blue Bronco. Bradley opens the back door. Jake gets in and lays down in the back seat and Bradley climbs on top of him they are making out and saying how much they love each other. Bradley and Jake strip off their wet Hawaiian shirt and Green Polo and blue and black jeans and begin to make love to each other.

Bradley looks into Jake's eyes. He then says even though I planned to tell you tonight differently I'm in love with you. I'm glad that I told you tonight. My love for you Still Remains. Jake begins to laugh with a loudly. Omg Bradley is that why played The Stone Temple Pliots song "Still Remains" tonight? I know that is a love song. Omg you played that song to work up the courage to tell me tonight. Mr. Bradshaw you a romantic at heart. I love that about you. Bradley's brown eyes are sparkling he is smitten by Jake's green mischievous sexy green looking at him and kiss and says damn you sweetheart you figured me out Mr. Seresin.

Jake smiles softly at Bradley. Jake says "one day I hope to be Mr. Bradshaw" as he wraps his arms around Bradley's neck kissing him again on his soft lips as the rain pounds down on the Bronco. Bradley says "yes I would love that one day too Jake."

#hangster #sereshaw #top gun maverick fanfiction #tumblr fic #romance #fanfic

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crinkled-emotions · 1 year ago

Note

Hey G, I have a prompt idea from the list, but I'm not sure if it's something you'd be interested in writing so I said I'd ask first. No hassle if you're not! 😊

I was thinking Uncle Slider looking out for Bradley, when he gets sick, I'm thinking they could be deployed on the same carrier or something idk, and it's one of the firsrt times together when theyre back on good terms after Bradley cutting off Mav (I know you said no mav at the moment, so we can just leave him in the desert on leave haha. Sorry Mav, enjoy the sand)

7 and 22 from whumpril and the first one from the emeto prompts please

Gotcha!! Thanks for your patience, I finally got around to this after that unexpected hiatus 🥰😂

I have changed it up just a little. It'll make sense when you read it lmao.

7. "Numbness/Unsteady/ [You look pale]", 22. "Sponge Bath/Infection/ [Let's get you cleaned up]" and 1. "Straining/losing their voice from retching"

"Captain Kerner!"

Slider paused mid-step in the hallway, turning to glance over his shoulder.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Seresin, what can I do for you?"

"It's Bradshaw, sir. I just went back to our quarters to change but he's sick."

"Okay...? Take him to the infirmary if he's that bad."

"He's asking for you, sir."

Slider paused, eyebrow raising.

"Let's go."

Seresin led him through the carrier, practically parting the crowds with his confidence... and his broad shoulders. By the time they got to the room, Seresin was handing over his keys.

"I'm going to bunk with one of my friends for the night, sir. Bradshaw sounds like he could use the room to himself."

Slider frowned, but didn't push it further as the kid disappeared back into the crowd. He gently knocked on the door before pushing it open, surprised at what he saw.

"Bradley."

"Uncle Sli, hey," he croaked hoarsely from his bunk, the room's trash can in his arms. Slider knelt by him, gently putting a hand to his forehead.

"That's one hell of a fever. Alright, up, let's get you into the infirmary-"

"-no!"

Bradley put the trash can on the floor and Slider sighed when the kid scooted forward into his arms. Slider kept his hand on the back of his neck, tucking him into his shoulder like he used to when Bradley was a baby.

He'd been visiting Carole once when Bradley had gone down with a fever in the middle of the night and Carole, exhausted after staying up with the four year old all night, had gone to bed. Slider had offered to watch him during the day and Bradley had promptly crawled on to his lap, wrapped an arm around Slider's neck and kept his thumb in his mouth all day. He'd slept for a majority of the day so when Carole came downstairs after her own nap the five year old was back to his usual cheeky self. It was a bittersweet memory, to Slider, knowing Goose would have hated watching his kid sick but loved the moment to hold him a little longer. And Carole, she was gone too. She was gone and despite being on the same carrier working closely for almost four months, Bradley had barely said two words to him until now.

With Bradley now back in bed, tucked under a warmer blanket with seasickness medication in his system, Slider made the decision if he couldn't take him to the infirmary he was going to bring the infirmary to him.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

He didn't move, or make a noise, but it was more for Slider's own peace of mind. He tried to remember what Carole or even Mav would do when Bradley wasn't well, what they mentioned in passing. All he could remember was having to pick up the fifteen year old at his mother's funeral and he wasn't sure he could cope with remembering that.

Carole was too good for this world.

"Captain Kerner, is everything okay?"

"I need something to stop vomiting and reduce a fever."

One of the doctors on the carrier paused, blinking at Slider.

"Let's get a look at you-"

"-it's not me, it's Lieutenant Junior Grade Bradshaw. He's sleeping it off for now."

"How high is the fever? Give me a moment, let me grab his file and check allergies."

"He doesn't have allergies. He was warm to the touch but not to the point I was going to drag him down here."

The doctor turned from where he'd been looking for Bradley's file, hands on his hips.

"You've felt his fever? Kid has a track record among other docs I've talked to, won't let anyone touch him."

"I knew him when he was little. Long story. What would you recommend?"

"Well, the problem is if he's vomiting, it's hard to get it to stop long enough for the medication to settle. We could try the motion sickness pill, or maybe the liquid form-"

"-I already gave him the pill, but we both know it's going to come back up."

The doctor hummed, pulling the file and dropping it on the desk. He quickly skimmed it, then reached for his prescription pad.

"Do you think you could give him a jab in the ass? Maybe some IV fluids?"

"Nope."

"Perfect, bring him down here and I'll do it."

"Rooster- oh, shit."

Slider stepped into the room and grabbed the bucket when he realised how badly the kid was straining himself, brushing a hand through his hair.

"Just breathe, yeah? Slow down."

Bradley groaned, drawing his knees to his chest and trying to stifle his coughing.

"Good?" Slider asked. Bradley shook his head, going to speak but finding he couldn't. Slider sighed.

"Now we're really going to the infirmary. You're lucky you haven't torn something."

Slider watched the kid go to complain or maybe even flat out refuse, but then he put a hand out and Slider helped him to stand, wrapping an arm around his waist. Bradley buried his face into Slider's shoulder, Slider feeling the grimace that crossed his features.

"Goddamn kid, stop growing would ya? I think normal people stop at fifteen, not twenty-five," he grumbled. With a careful hand on Bradley's back, he started back toward the infirmary. He got to the door and it abruptly opened, Slider tightening his hold on Bradley only to find-

"Seresin, what do you need?"

"I just wanted to see if Rooster was okay, sir."

Slider glanced between the two men, Bradley hanging off him, and his eyebrows shot up. He'd seen this song and dance before, many years ago, with a certain two aviators...

He couldn't wait to tell Ice about this later. If Goose had been here-

"He's going to the infirmary, Seresin. How about you give me a hand?"

"Sure."

Seresin came around Bradley's other side, hoisting him up. With his help Bradley and Slider made their way to the infirmary.

The doctor Slider had spoken to earlier was already waiting, an exam bed open and waiting. He glanced over his shoulder at Seresin, an eyebrow raised.

"How bad is it?"

"He's not cryin' for his daddy yet," Seresin said, and then promptly shut his mouth. Slider went to tell him off but Bradley groaned, writhing on the bed. Both Seresin and Slider whipped around from their hushed discussion, the doctor ready to put the IV into his arm.

"Which of you wants to hold him down?"

"I got it," Seresin sighed, while Slider sat on the end of the bed and kept his hand on Bradley's knee.

"Hey, kid, you need to look at me. Just keep lookin' at me, don't look at Seresin."

"He stinks," Bradley whispered, an inside look shared between him and Slider. Seresin huffed, rolling his eyes.

"I-"

"-I'm in and we're looking good. Let's give that some time to work through his system, and then hopefully he'll be good to be discharged later today."

The doctor picked up his clipboard and made a swift exit. Rooster tried to roll on to his side but Seresin stopped him, glancing over at Slider.

"Is it safe?" He asked. Slider shrugged.

"I look like a doctor to you?"

"Sli," Bradley croaked. Slider knew that croak and yanked the bucket out from under the sink, helping Bradley sit up. Seresin kept his hand on Bradley's back, making lazy circles more to soothe than encourage.

"You're okay Roos, just breathe. I'm here, Seresin's here. You're alright."

Considering he hadn't managed to keep anything down for what Slider could only guess had been about twelve hours, the retching tugged at his throat and vocal cords. Seresin grimaced, turning away and Slider gently guided the bucket away from Bradley.

"It's okay kid, your stomach is fucking you around. Take a breath."

He couldn't remember where he'd learned to say these things, nor when he'd ever felt so protective over Bradley Bradshaw, but he could see he was scared, and that scared him. Even when he was at his mother's funeral, saying her eulogy with Mav by his side, Bradley never looked scared.

"He's got this... thing," Seresin finally explained, "it's been like this as long as I knew him. I dunno why, it just unsettles him. He's usually a smartass, doesn't know when to shut his trap, but if I get sick near him, or he gets the flu... god, it's like the end of the world. I got two younger sisters and I've never seen anything like it."

Slider frowned, focusing on brushing his fingers through Bradley's curls. With help he lay back down, curling on to his side despite Seresin's concerns it wasn't safe.

"How long have you two known each other?" Slider asked, feeling Bradley rest his head against Slider's side from where he was standing beside the bed.

"Nearly five years. He's a stubborn bastard, but I suppose you already knew that."

"His parents were both like that, and then his godfather, well- he's in some unknown location in Buttfuck, Nowhere because of his stubbornness."

Seresin smiled, reaching down to squeeze Bradley's side before gesturing to the door.

"I'm gonna go clean the room and get some sleep. Give you two some time to talk."

"Thanks, Seresin. Oh, and kid- between you and me, I don't particularly care about DADT. You do what makes you happy, any one who has a problem with that can answer to me."

Seresin's tan hid the blush on his cheeks, but his neck turned a gentle hue of pink and he cleared his throat.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

Right as he slipped out Bradley glanced up at Slider, tugging on his hand.

"M'sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to drag you into this. I'll be okay, if you wanted to go back to work, I know you're busy-"

"-don't be ridiculous. You needed me, and here I am. I was there when you were four, and I'm here now."

"I'm sorry that I cut you out."

"I know."

Slider pulled a chair over, taking Bradley's hand and giving it a squeeze. Bradley sniffled, scooting over to bury against Slider.

"You cold?"

"No."

"Alright, kid. Try and get some sleep, I'm not going anywhere."

The nurse dropped off a bowl of lukewarm water and a cloth, and Slider took the opportunity to place the damp cloth on Bradley's forehead.

"Better?"

"Hmmm..."

#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Callsign: Rooster #Ron Slider Kerner #Ron Kerner #Slider #Callsign: Slider #sickfic #hurt/comfort #tw: emeto #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin #Hangman #Callsign: Hangman

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