#god i've snot all over my sweatshirt

[feralforfrank]

THE BEACH DISASTER.

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW X FEM!READER

summary it's volleyball saturday, and you desperately need to relax and forget about rooster. but he has other plans, which end up with you sharing more than you should.

cw MORE ANGST AHAHAHA, reader being really sad, rooster almost saying the s-word to reader...ALSO, me using that one amy march quote bc i love it (idk if anyone will notice it lol). NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER. TELL ME IF I MISSED ANYTHING.

a/n WAKE UP PART TWO IS POSTED!!! i managed to write 2,1k words... be proud, i've never done this before. i dont like this part as much as the first one, but a LOT of people wanted me to do a part two, so here you go!!!

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When you returned to base, your movements were quicker than in the air. You brushed your hair and teeth, changed into a sweatshirt, and ducked under the covers. You were probably the only young person on this base, for all your fellow pilots were getting drunk on the Hard Deck or some other bar.

The tears fell as soon as your head hit the pillow. Fuck him, fuck her, fuck everyone! You couldn't believe you would ever sob over Bradley Bradshaw, but here you were, under your blanket, wiping your snot and tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

You knew you'd eventually have to bounce back. Rooster was never yours, to begin with. There was no reason to be crying over someone who had done nothing but absolutely hate and offend you. You shouldn't let a man affect your job or your life. Especially a Navy man. You could find a hundred more like him.

But you didn't want a hundred more Bradley Bradshaws. You wanted the original, the man who, despite making fun of your piloting abilities, was good company when he wanted to. The amusing, talented, tall man with the pornstache you'd tried to shave once while he was napping.

Is he even thinking about me right now? Probably not. He has that pretty girl hanging off his arm, laughing at his jokes, stroking his arm and looking flawless. They're likely by the pool table—Rooster's beating Hangman at a game, and she's cheering for him, handing him his bear every time he scores.

The detailed thought of him, her and your friends makes your heart clench painfully. Tomorrow's Volleyball Saturday, but you don't have the energy or desire to play. You promised Phoenix and Halo to be there so you have to go, but if Rooster brings his new girlfriend, you'll have to bail. You can't stand to see them together again.

Your skull throbs and your eyes burn with new unshed tears. You bet Maria looks striking in a bikini, skin glowing, no stretch marks, and a perfectly flat stomach. She's the perfect girl for him.

God, you need to stop. You need to stop thinking about her. And him—especially him—or you will lose your fucking mind.

You shut your eyes, waiting for a dreamless sleep to consume you. Today has been wild, and fuck Rooster Bradshaw for ruining a perfect evening.

—

You shut your car door after grabbing the cooler stuffed with beers and your bag, wiping the sweat off the top of your brow. You start to make your way down to the beach when you hear a voice call you from behind you.

Jake's walking toward you with a cocky smirk, but today, you don't find the energy to muster up a comment to mock him. You only smile and wait for him. He's holding his own cooler, probably filled to the brim with beers, just like yours.

"You look like shit," is the first thing he says.

You snort. If only you knew, Seresin. "Thanks, you too!"

"Are you ready to get your ass kicked today?" You actually laugh at that.

"In your dreams, Hangman. I'm the best player there is. Just admit your loss already."

It's his turn to laugh. "I thought you liked seeing us naked—' specially me. I've seen the heart eyes you throw my way, Swift."

Seresin wiggles his eyebrows in suggestion, and neither can stop your laughing as you descend down the beach. It felt good to laugh and forget about your current problem—who was a few feet away—for a second.

Once you put your things down, you look toward your friends. They are around the net, likely discussing who'll be on whose team. Hangman is taking his shirt off right next to you, but you pretend not to notice, even though your cheeks burn. Damn every single Navy guy for having such great bodies.

Your eyes look for Rooster subconsciously. Since they're all huddled together, it's hard to spot him at first. But once you find him, you can't look away. He ditched the Hawaiian shirt today, but he's wearing swim trunks and aviators. His skin is shining from the angle the sun hits him, and you nearly drool.

Too bad he's not yours. You sigh at the thought and look away. Your mind could be such a cruel place sometimes. Especially when thinking about Bradley.

"Okay, I'm ready. Are we going or what?" You heard Jake ask.

"Oh no, I'm not playing today, Seresin. I'll gladly sit back and enjoy the show, though."

His smile slightly faltered. "Sure, whatever you want. I'm not going to be the one getting my ass beat by Nix for missing out."

You laughed. "Don't look at my abs too long. Rooster will get jealous!"

And without further explaining, Hangman was running towards the squadron, leaving you with your mouth hung open in shock and cheeks bright red.

You sat down on a beach chair, somewhat focusing on their game. Sure, shirtless and sweaty Navy pilots were a magnificent sight, but Jake's words lingered.

Did he know you liked Rooster? Not a chance since the only person who knew was Nix. So why had he said that? Had Rooster said something to him? Or did he set this up—another cruel move, as if yesterday wasn't enough?

With your head between your tucked on your resting elbows, you let your racing thoughts run around and wreak havoc in your already exhausted brain—occasionally cheering. They consisted of Bradley and your job, the Navy in general, and your friends, Bradley. You hadn't noticed someone sitting next to you until they were speaking.

"Are you okay there, sweetheart?" God, you hated that fucking nickname. And he knew it.

You exhale and look to your left. Rooster's sitting on the chair five feet away from you, and you muster up the courage to look him in the eyes.

"Why do you care, Bradshaw?"

Your tone is harsh, but your heart warms that he cares to know what's bothering you.

"Well, the game's just not the same without your annoying screeches of joy when you score a point. Plus, Nix told me to check up on you." Oh, so he came because he had to.

"You can go. I don't need a babysitter."

"Why so rude, Swift? Someone hurt you?" The sentiment behind that sentence is hidden almost too perfectly. But you notice how his eyes soften, and his frown is deeper. You want to slap yourself for thinking that he cares.

"Maybe someone did. Will you please just leave me alone now?"

You've turned your head away from him now. Flashes of last night burn in front of your eyes, and you feel them brim with tears. Rooster can't see this. He can't see you crying.

"You know what? I came here to apologise. I know we're like-like sworn enemies, but I saw how...How pissed off you looked," yeah pissed off would be an understatement, "when I kissed Maria. I lead her on just to get on your nerves, but I shouldn't have pushed it that far—"

"Doesn't sound like a me problem, Rooster. I'm not Maria." You cut him off and get up, not wanting to hear him speak about this again. But of course, he does.

"I shouldn't have pulled that stunt, but you shouldn't have done that whole thing with Jake!" He's angry, you notice.

"What fucking stunt, Rooster? We're not a couple, for fuck's sake! As you said, we're enemies, and I can do whatever I want," you speak as you move your bears from your mini-fridge to another half-empty cooler.

You try so hard not to let your lips quiver. The words coming out of your mouth hurt because you wish they were true. You wish he'd see that there's no other man but him, that you don't want to be his rival anymore. Instead, here you are, fighting.

You place your phone in the back pocket of your shorts and grab the cooler, wanting nothing but to leave this conversation. Your destination was your car—so you could put the freezer in it. But Rooster had other plans.

"Didn't seem like it when you left the bar crying yesterday. All that because I kissed another girl. You hate me, my ass!"

You roll your eyes and continue walking, ignoring his loud footsteps behind you. This day was supposed to be relaxing, but he was annoying you with his walking, talking, and looking handsome. Handsome—what in the hell am I thinking?

"What cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" You pay him no mind, having reached your car now. This'll be over as soon as you get back to the beach.

"Leave me alone, Rooster," you mutter, your eyes never finding his.

"No, see. You always try to get on my nerves, but this shit? You and Seresin? That's going a step too far, honeybun. You know I dislike him more than I do you, yet you still flirted with him like some kind of slu—" What?

"No," your voice shakes as you finally meet his eyes. "Bradley, you're being mean. Stop it. You can't yell at me about Seresin when I've had to watch you flirt with a hundred other girls. I've liked you since the Academy—before you knew I existed. I won't have you hurt me with your words anymore, not when I've spent so much time trying to find a way for you to like me back."

There's silence. And for a second, your chest feels lighter than it has in weeks. The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you're glad—until you're not. Bradley's looking at you, frozen in his place, his eyes unblinking. Suddenly, you wished you hadn't spoken. The very much spoken line of hatred that connected you two is now severed, and you fear that you've lost him forever.

"You-You don't have to say you like me back or anything. But you needed to know this because the weight was getting too heavy, and I couldn't bear to hold it anymore." You inhale, blinking back tears and forcing sobs down your throat.

"The only reason I approached Jake in the first place was because of you and Maria. She made me so jealous—a kind of jealousy that was so soul-sucking and toxic. Her touching you made me so insecure about my own body because what does she have that I don't? Calling Hangman over me was a petty way of gaining your attention—something I've dreamed of for so long. So, my mind's response was to do something teenage-like to hurt your feelings—even though I knew you wouldn't care that much."

He stays there still, and you take a moment to look at him—really look at him. His eyes are looking at your face, but they're in a faraway place. Someone would say he's not listening, but you know he is. If Bradley wants to ignore someone, he walks away—he never zones out—so yeah, he's listening.

His skin glistens with sweat from the game, and his aviators are lower than they're supposed to be on the bridge of his nose. His hair is messy, and you can see the spots on his cheeks where the sun burned him most.

A few seconds pass, but he's still frozen, and you scoff. You scoff to hide the pain of the rejection you just took. You told him he didn't need to say anything back. So, he can stay as quiet as he wants. But you're leaving. You walk around him, speed-walking to the beach to get your stuff. You don't dare look back.

This is the second time you're leaving because of him. The squadron is busy cheering, so they don't notice how you slip out with a few stray tears rolling down your cheeks.

Rooster's not in front of the car when you arrive. Good, you didn't want to see him after that very embarrassing and emotional moment. He's going to be okay—he's a big boy. You, on the other hand, are on the verge of falling apart. Things changed as soon as you spilt your heart out to him.

You sigh and shut the car door, your fingers turning the key in the ignition. Training is going to be so weird on Monday. Thank fuck for Sunday because you need to gather your thoughts and emotions.

You make a mental note to do your laundry before heading to bed, so you won't have to do it when your friends return, and there's a chance of bumping onto Rooster. 

You just need a break away from him to forget about the whole...beach disaster.

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