good enough
bradley "rooster" bradshaw x gn!reader, 8k words
tw: MAJOR MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE. divorce, cussing (lots of f bombs at some point), lots of arguing, angst, at one point, reader is said to have had depression before. the reader and bradley are both idiots and neither one of them can properly deal with shit. macho man rooster ends up letting fear gets the best of him and he literally ruins his own life bc of it LMAO, possibly ooc if you squint, possibly questionable actions when it comes to friends, this is dramatic as hell (and i loved every minute of it), self-doubt, angry characters, regret is strong here, rooster fears death and makes it a personality trait™
a/n: based on the song "good enough" by maisie peters. sorry for all of the tws, but i just wanted to try and mark all the boxes. but fr i love bradley. this is purely a play on the song i named, and is just a piece of fiction. a dramatic piece of fiction. like literally take rooster and place him in some angsty romance novel, but cut out the smut. that's this. i am also so sorry for the length of this. i just... started going and i couldn't stop. LMAO
Your heart lurched to your throat as you stood there, his head turned away from your lips—he was avoiding your touch. He didn’t have to say it for you to realize it.
You hesitantly smiled, backing down. Maybe he just had a bad day. It happened pretty often, so taking it personally wouldn’t have benefited you in any way.
He was your favorite person, and you knew you were his. You two were best friends until the end of time. That’s how it had been since even before you two got married—that’s how it would stay.
The television that sat in the living room had long since been turned off. The fan perched in the corner of the room silently hummed along, providing little relief to the California heat that plagued your home.
"Rooster," you began, rubbing the back of your neck. Sweat stuck to the palm of your hand, and you grimaced as you quickly wiped your hand off on the seat of your pants. "How was your day? I know it's been busy—"
"—we need to talk," he said, cutting you off.
He didn't even give you a chance to question things as he walked past you, sitting down on the sofa in your shared condominium. You blinked slowly at your husband, but you gave a small nod. Your feet moved on their own accord as you sat beside him. You placed a hand on his knee, and he only pulled himself away from you.
You swallowed thickly, nerves getting the best of you. Had you done something to offend him recently? Did something happen with Maverick again? You had thought they were doing well—the videos Natasha had sent you were proof enough of that. It warmed your heart to know that he was finally finding himself in this crazy world.
Maybe it was just hot. Yes, that’s it. The heat was getting to him. It had been getting to everyone on base, and at work. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was the same thing here.
"Bradley…?" You said nothing more than his name, watching him with nothing but pure adoration behind your eyes. He meant the world to you. There was nothing he could say or do to change this, even if he was avoiding you.
The man looked at anything but you. His dark brown eyes stared at the black television, and then they moved to the grey carpet just beneath his boot-clad feet.
You must have just vacuumed. He could see the indentations, and that’s what he chose to focus on as he searched for the right words to say. But they never came.
"I want a divorce," he said.
It was so simple. Those four words.
And just like that, your world came crashing around you.
Where was this coming from? Did you do something to upset him?
The words swirled around in your brain, repeating over and over until it hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your chest. He wants a divorce.
You sat on the edge of the black sofa, eyes fluttering shut as you took in a deep breath. Your hands rested in fists on top of your thighs as you wracked your mind for an explanation. You couldn't find one.
There was nothing that could justify whatever this was.
How long had he been thinking about this?
"Where… where is this coming from?" you asked. You just had to know.
"I don't want to talk about it. Just… please."
"What?" You looked up at him in disbelief. "You—you want to divorce me but you won't even give me a reason?" you asked. Your eyes burned as you held back your tears. You couldn't cry. Not now. If you cried that first tear, then surely, they would never stop.
"I have never asked you for anything, Y/n. Please, just say yes.”
"I don't understand where this is coming from, Bradley," you said, reaching forward to take ahold of his hand. "Please. Talk to me. I want to understand what's going on."
Rooster clenched his jaw, looking down at your hands. Your wedding band glinted in the soft glow of the light overhead. The beautiful piece glared at him as he fought to find the right words to say—but nothing he could say would make this better. Not now.
The words left him without a second thought.
"I don't love you."
Oh.
Oh, no.
No, no, no. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be telling you the truth right now. He did love you. He married you! Why would he ever ask you to marry him if he didn't love you?
Why would you plan your life together if he didn’t love you?
But even though you could create more and more questions in your mind, trying to placate every emotion coursing through your veins, nothing made sense.
You pulled your hand away as your tears finally began to fall. If he didn't love you, you wouldn't force him to be with you any more than he wanted.
Rooster inwardly grimaced, but he wasn’t about to let you see that. He needed to be strong—he needed to save face and keep on digging in the same grave he had started.
"Just… just tell me when."
"When what?"
"When did this happen? When did you fall out of love? I—I thought you loved me, Bradley. I love you."
He pursed his lips. He seemed to hesitate as he allowed his eyes to meet yours. Rooster's blood rushed to his ears, and his fingers itched to grab onto something. To grab onto you. But he couldn’t. He couldn't even look at you properly when you looked so sad, but he forced himself to do so anyway. You deserved that, at least. You deserved to be looked at when he was ending the relationship you fought so hard to keep.
"I don't know. It just… happened."
He was lying. He had to be lying. There was no way he was being honest—he loves you. He loves you, and this was all just some bad dream. Some bad joke that Hangman put him up to. Maybe Fanboy was in on it, too. Surely, someone put him up to this. They had money in a bowl somewhere, waiting for your reaction so they would know who won. He’d whip out his phone soon and text them the result.
But the way he looked at you… you knew he was telling you the truth. He wanted a divorce. This was happening, whether you wanted it to or not. There was no cruel bet, no ulterior motive.
This was happening.
Every moment of the past three years pierced your brain—Bradley asking you out in the middle of the Hard Deck. Meeting his friends. Picking out your wedding rings. Becoming Y/n Bradshaw. The kisses you shared. The whispered conversations, the happy smiles, the—
He was your life. He is your life. You love him more than life itself.
But he loved you.
Loved. Past-tense.
He did love you. Something changed. What had changed?
You abruptly stood up, roughly wiping your tears away. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be near him right now. Your heart was far too heavy, weighed down by the immense burden of his confession.
"Alright," you said. "I… I won't force you to stay with me. I would never do that to you, Bradley. I would… I would never, ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You held back a sob, fists balled at your sides. “We can get a divorce."
Relief spread across his face. He couldn't smile, though. This ended up being a lot harder than he expected it to be.
"Thank you," he said. He stood up, towering over you like usual. "I appreciate it."
You gave a curt nod, averting your gaze. Your tongue poked out, nervously wetting your lips as you cleared your throat. He appreciated it.
Were you just a joke to him?
"I will… I will make arrangements. I will leave by next week."
"What? You don't have to do that. There's no rush—"
"—I'll leave by next week," you cut him off, no longer looking at him.
What was he doing? You didn’t need this. You didn’t need him. As you took a step forward, the tears began to fall. Your husband forced himself to stay put as you rushed off to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.
You found little comfort in the blankets that now surrounded you, tears wetting the pillow on which you rested your head night after night. You found little comfort in the place you spent with your husband, time after time, lamenting how much you loved each other. Planning the future of your life—of your family. Of your relationship that should have only grown in love.
The memories of this bed burned in the back of your mind. You could hardly breathe as the sobs plowed through your body.
This wasn’t fair.
This couldn’t be real.
Rooster slowly sat back down, burying his face in his hands. His elbows dug into his thighs, a choked sob catching in the back of his throat. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to say that to you. It was far from the truth. But there was nothing he could do about it now.
This was for the best.
This would keep you safe.
As the sun peered through the grey curtains, setting just beyond the horizon, Rooster stood up. He wiped his tears away, instantly hardening. He had done this time and time again. He would hide, folding back into himself like a metal chair—he’d be there for people when he was needed, but he would be just out of the way until then. He wouldn’t bother you any longer than he needed to.
This was for the best—you wouldn’t have to live your life wondering what could have been.
If he died, that was that. You would move on, and he could rest peacefully in the afterlife.
His father hadn’t ever given his mother a chance to do something like that. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake.
Three years had passed.
Three, long and grueling years had inched by, taking your misery along with you. The New Year would pass over and over, and the only thing you would write on your resolution list was: Move on.
But you never could. That list ended up in the garbage only weeks after drafting it up.
How could you when the love of your life left as he did? How could you when you knew he was the only thing that kept you going, even if you were hundreds of miles away?
They would never say it out loud, but your friends never quite said anything about why he divorced you—why he fell out of love. But why would he tell them something like that? Rooster generally kept to himself. It wasn't something that he would have been very honest about, to begin with.
You knew they knew something more, but they never said anything. You never expected them to, either. They were your friends as much as they were his, and they had been his friend for far longer. You couldn't blame them. Whatever they knew—that was his business. But you kept silent, allowing yourself to wallow in self-pity for more than you should have.
But just like you couldn't blame them for keeping his secrets… who could blame you?
You had your own life before Rooster, yes, you did. You didn’t depend on him. You were independent, and you had your own interests and everything. You didn’t need him. But with his confession, it was as if everything you had ever known had been tossed out of the window of a speeding car in an instant, shattering against the run-down pavement. Pieces flew everywhere—you'd never be able to find them again, let alone put them back together.
You'd never have enough glue for something like that.
You would never be able to repair the gaping hole that was in your heart.
And you knew it was silly. You shouldn’t have ever let yourself trust someone so completely. But you never thought something like that would happen. Rooster was so easy to love.
He was such a happy person—he exuded confidence. He was the epitome of an amazing human being. And yet, he still fell out of love with you.
You never believed someone could just fall out of love so easily.
So, instead of remaining in the very place you felt like you were sinking in, you did what you thought was best. You packed your things and moved to Virginia. At least there, you'd be far enough away that he'd never find you. The mileage did little to comfort you, but it was something.
At least here, you felt like you could breathe.
Changing from the west coast to the east coast was drastic—but you adapted. You had to. You couldn't continue living in the very place that was threatening you at every given minute. You couldn’t continue on in a place where at every corner, something reminded you of him. It was driving you into a familiar depression—one that you had known before Rooster, and one that you would now know after Rooster.
When you left, Phoenix was devastated. Other than Bob, you were her closest friend. She never stopped talking to you—she never stopped being friends with you, even when you moved across the country. When Phoenix asked you to come in to visit, you hesitated. But then she promised you that Rooster wouldn't be there. That he would be visiting some family he had up north—his girlfriend's family. He would be using this free time to get to know them better.
You wouldn't say you were happy for him. Hell, that was far from the truth. Despite the fact you no longer wore your ring on your finger, it was always on a chain around your neck. Your heart still beats for him, no matter how many times you had tried to move on. And you did it all. You tried everything that Google said to do. One night stands, going out with strangers, having people set you up, hell, you even tried therapy. But it never worked.
Why would it? Rooster was the love of your life. He was the one you had seen yourself dying with—he was the one you wanted to grow old with. And he didn't want that in you. He didn't see the same things.
He didn’t see your relationship as a rising sun just beyond the mountain tops. He was already there with the setting sun, disappearing beyond the horizon. He had been there, at the end of your relationship, far before you even had a chance to find the middle. He had made peace with the end. You couldn’t even find peace in the beginning.
After much pestering and a FaceTime call from both Phoenix and Bob, you were convinced to join them back in California for a week. But your only condition was that Phoenix would be paying half for your plane ticket. She agreed in a heartbeat.
So that's why you stood here now, in front of the old dormitory in which you used to visit your friends in. You had already been to the hotel you'd be staying at, and you took a taxi to the base.
The grey building towered over you, making you feel far smaller than you actually were. Memories sat behind those walls, waiting for you to relive them, even if you didn’t want to.
It only took one text message to Natasha before she came barreling down the sidewalk, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Bob was not far behind, and Hangman was taking his sweet ole time. You didn't know he'd be around, but you felt better knowing he was—you had been close before Rooster sent in the papers. He helped you pack and get your things to Virginia.
You hugged Phoenix tightly, smiling up at her.
"It's been too long!" she nearly shouted, excitement running through her body. As she pulled away, Bob pulled you into a hug. He greeted you as he had so many times, with a hug and a simple ‘hello.’
Last but not least, Hangman sent you a smile. He pulled you into a hug, despite the fact he used to be one of the last people you would expect it from. You melted into the hug, unable to stop yourself from smiling.
"It's… it's good to be back. I'm glad to see you guys."
"Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy are already at the bar. Said they'd just meet us there. You ready?" Phoenix grinned.
You were as ready as you would ever be. You gave a small nod to your friend, and before you knew it, you were on your way to the very place you met your ex-husband. The Hard Deck.
It was suffocating, standing in that corner all alone. Your friends played pool, and you watched as the different colored balls sunk into the pockets that lined the edge. Hangman stood off to the side, beating some stranger in darts.
Rooster had always been good at that.
Lost in your mind like you had been so many times before, the sound of a glass falling at the bar made you jump.
And then you saw him. Your own glass slipped through your fingertips, crashing onto the floor. Shards littered the wood floor. Phoenix yelped your name in surprise, coming to your side immediately.
"What's wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on your arm to try and comfort you. You continued to stare, and she eventually looked in the direction of your gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as she tried to find something to say.
He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near you.
And he was looking right at you.
"Y/n, it's okay, he's not—"
You pulled your arm away from Phoenix, taking a couple of steps back before you took off running in the direction of the restrooms. It was as good of a hiding spot as anywhere, and you'd be able to collect yourself before going back out there. You couldn’t possibly run past him—he’d stop you. Or at least, try to follow you. Phoenix would make him leave. Surely, she wouldn't just let him stay.
You locked yourself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat. You took in a deep, releasing a shaky breath as tears clouded your vision. A hand pressed to your mouth, elbows digging into the meat of your thighs as you tried to keep yourself calm.
This wasn't happening! She promised he wasn't here. Why would she lie?
Maybe she didn't know.
The bright light in the bathroom was far too much.
The dripping water from the sink struck the porcelain—plip, plip, plip.
The noise from the bar was deafening as you sat there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Loud voices echoed through the building, striking your ears in an instant. But the more you cried, the more your sobs became the only thing you heard.
It had been ages since you cried over him, so why now? Why were you so triggered by just seeing him?
You tried to calm yourself down but to no avail.
You loved him. You love him. You never stopped. You couldn't just stop.
You tried so hard. You spent years trying to forget the man who ripped your heart in two with four simple words.
But the universe had a funny way of working. It seemed to work against you in every way possible, no matter what.
You could never win.
You would never win.
No matter what, you were never good enough.
You hadn't been good enough in school. You weren't good enough at work. And you hadn't been good enough for Rooster, even when you were married. You weren't good enough for him, now, either.
There was a knock at the bathroom door before you heard it creak open. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to keep quiet, choked sobs caught in your chest.
Worn shoes popped up underneath the stall door you found refuge in. Those same damn shoes you bought him once for Christmas, four years ago. He had been so excited—they were almost the exact same pair his mother had bought him one year for his birthday. His father's favorite brand—his favorite style of shoe.
God, you searched everywhere for those damn shoes.
And he kept them.
Silence enveloped the bathroom, save for your stifled sobs. You rested your shoulder against the old paneled walls, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore him. But he knew you were there. It was far too late, now.
Rooster stood there, fist raised to knock on the stall door. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What would he even say? What would have been good enough?
Three years had come and gone without you. Three long years in which he felt as if he was drowning, just existing. He would have been better off launching himself into that ocean, the same as his father. His wedding band was stuffed away in some kind of pocket, always near him or on his person in some way. He tried to get over you—one-night stands, blind dates, even going as far as asking Hangman to find him a girl.
It worked, for a while.
He started dating Kristie—a sweet woman who worked as a nurse on base. But she saw right through him. She knew who he was, and what was going on in that head of his.
She wasn't mad—a bit disappointed, yes, but it didn't stop her from breaking up with him and canceling their planned vacation up north together.
She wasn’t you. She would never be you.
And he didn’t think he would ever see you again.
Rooster found himself in the middle of the Hard Deck, never once expecting you to be there. None of the Dagger Squad had said anything about you. He didn't know you were even going to be in town.
He felt like he couldn't breathe when he laid eyes on you.
The yellow lighting cast a soft glow on your skin. You were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but damn, you looked even more beautiful now. Maybe it was just the years that had passed him by.
The walls of his small corner of the world couldn’t fall on him sooner.
The glass that crunched under your shoes became the only thing he heard until he watched as you ran back into the hallway.
In a split second, Hangman was beside him, obviously pissed.
"What the hell, man? Why aren't you with Kristie?"
"She broke it off."
Hangman clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe this was happening, but then again, Rooster had his head far up his ass more often than not. Hangman punched him in the arm, just enough for it to hurt.
"You need to leave," he said, watching as Rooster recoiled in pain.
"What?" Rooster looked at him in surprise. "No."
"Yes!" he exclaimed. Was this idiot really that much of an asshole?
This time, Phoenix spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. "We promised you wouldn't be here. You're supposed to be up north. You're supposed to be far away from here!"
"You promised?" Rooster stared her down.
"Well, yeah, you asshole! You broke their heart. They didn't even want to come here in the first place. God, I should've just gone to see them instead of dragging them out here," Phoenix groaned, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.
Rooster hesitantly took a step forward.
"Rooster, get out," Hangman said, voice low.
He shook his head. He needed to talk to you.
"Rooster!"
He broke out into a run, and before Hangman could follow, Phoenix grabbed his arm.
"What the hell?" he stared at her in disbelief.
"Just let it happen," she said.
"Let what happen? Watch Y/n get their heart stepped on all over again?"
"Just… just let it happen."
Phoenix would wait for you to berate her, later. But for now, she could only wish her friends would try to make up. She could only wish that Rooster would gain a pair and grow up. Her heart ached for you as she watched Rooster run back to the bathrooms, knowing that she couldn’t ever take the pain away from you. The only one who could do that was Rooster, himself, and even then, she wasn’t sure if that would happen.
And now, he found himself standing there, the silence deafening in the small space. The light was bright in the enclosure—brighter than he remembered. His hand was still hovering, his arm growing heavy as he debated on knocking.
Should he just leave? Should he do as Hangman said and walk out?
But he couldn't just leave. Not now. Not when he knew he made the biggest mistake of his life, telling you all that bullshit.
You used your sleeves to wipe your tears away as you shakily got to your feet. Your fingers struggled to even unlock the stall door, but when you did, you swung it open. Rooster had to back up just to avoid being hit with the metal.
The two of you just stood there, bright light casting shadows onto the old tile floor. Not a word was said as Rooster stared at you.
You were exactly as he remembered, if not better. You had changed your hair since the last time he saw you. He kept the mustache, and his hair was still cut the same. You kept the same style and the same makeup (or lack thereof).
You still looked at him the same… even if it quickly changed into one of anger.
You were still so beautiful.
His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to talk to you, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to you. Nothing he could say would make things better.
He was such an idiot.
You stepped forward, walking to the stark white sink. You grabbed a few paper towels and wet them before carefully wiping the remnants of your tears. You stared at your reflection in the rounded mirror, your lip caught between your teeth as you hiccuped.
"Y/n?" Rooster tentatively began. He raised a hand to touch your shoulder.
You immediately moved away from his touch, glaring in his direction.
His fist clenched beside him as he watched you.
You tossed the paper towels in the trash and pushed past him, quickly leaving the bathroom.
"Y/n," he repeated.
As you walked, he followed.
Your friends stood in their respective corner, knowing they should intervene. Yet they stayed, hoping that somehow, Rooster would fix his fuck up. They couldn’t keep watching the two of you fight some imaginary battle—they couldn’t watch the two of you wish your life away for something that was quite literally at the tips of your fingers.
Phoenix wasn't too sure if he'd be able to fix this. Hangman honestly wanted to hang a man.
You shoved the doors open, walking into the cool California night.
It wasn’t like the cold in Virginia. Virginia’s winters were unforgiving—the snow that would fall would chill you to your very core. Virginia winters would put southern California to shame in an instant. At this very moment, you wished you were there, standing in the chilling wind, begging for some kind of relief—at least then, your body would become numb even if your mind was still running a mile a minute.
Nothing could have prepared you for what had transpired. Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man you fought so hard to forget.
With no car, you continued walking. You'd call a taxi at some point. Right now, you just needed to breathe.
But you had yet to realize Rooster was still following you.
The man grabbed ahold of your wrist, making you stop in the middle of the damn parking lot. Cars and trucks alike littered the parking spots. A few people walked past you as they went into the bar, ignoring the tension that stood in the middle of it all.
You whipped around, jerking your arm away from him with wide eyes.
"What's your fucking problem?!"
Rooster paused, body going rigid as he waited for you to continue.
You had never yelled at him, even when he asked for a divorce.
"Why the fuck are you even here? You're not supposed to be here! You have a fucking girlfriend. Get away from me. I don't ever want to see you again."
Tears sprung to your eyes once more. You tilted your head back, wishing they would just stop. The stars stared down at you, mocking you where you stood. The sky was so close, and yet so far away.
God, would this man ever make you stop crying?
"Y/n—"
"—just go away! I don't want you here!"
"Please," he began, "I need to talk to you. I need to apologize."
"Apologize?! Oh, that's rich! Just leave me alone. You did enough damage when you asked for a divorce. Just leave me alone."
"Y/n, please," he continued. "You… please just hear me out."
"I heard you out once, and it was the worst fucking time of my life," you said. "I'm not listening to you ever again."
You turned back around, set on leaving—this time a bit faster. But his words grounded you in your spot, heart leaping to your throat once more.
"It was a mistake!"
You stared at the gravel that crunched underneath your feet. You could feel your pulse rushing through your body, fast and unsteady.
Nothing could have prepared you for that.
"It was a mistake, Y/n," he said, his voice far quieter this time. "I never should have asked for a divorce. I never should have said anything. I should—I should have just—"
"—what, toughed it out? Let me realize you stopped loving me when you started cheating on me or some shit?"
His eyes widened in surprise.
"What? No. No, Y/n… I… I never should have said anything. I never stopped loving you."
What?
You couldn't breathe—your lungs constricted in your chest, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Your body burned as you looked up at the night sky, stars littering the vast ocean of darkness. They still mocked you, but this time, dark clouds rolled in. Perhaps the sky knew just how you felt. The moon cast a soft glow on everything in its path.
Tears blurred your vision once more.
He never stopped loving you.
You let out a sob, turning to face him.
"What?"
"I never stopped loving you," Rooster lamented. "I… still love you."
"Then… then… why?"
"I couldn't do it to you."
"What? Do what?"
"I couldn't die! I couldn't die and leave you a widow. I couldn't end up with the same fate my dad had, leaving you just the same as my mom," he said.
"Well you're not fucking dead, are you?!"
Rooster paused, lips parting to speak.
"You're not dead. You're standing right in front of me, telling me that the reason you fucking divorced me was because you didn't want me to be a widow?! I would have been less upset if you had fucking died!" You took in a deep breath, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You did not have to do that. You did not have to make me miserable. You did not have to make me feel like the one person who loved me was an entire lie!”
Rooster winced. Your words pierced his soul like a sharp bullet, ricocheting off the crevices of his very soul.
"Fuck off, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, fists clenched at your sides. "I never want to see you again."
"But Y/n—"
"—no! No, I'm over you, you bastard! I don't love you anymore. I haven't in years. You're still in love with me? That's great. Fucking deal with it. You deserve to feel the pain of not knowing. You deserve to lose yourself in everything you thought was yours.”
Bradley Bradshaw had never felt as if he wasn't good enough. When he was faced with adversity, he worked harder. When he felt bad about something, he did more to try and overcome that. He had never felt as if anything he did wasn't good enough. But in this very moment, he stood there, wondering how in the world he could have fucked up so badly.
He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough, for you. That much was evident as he watched you once again walk away from him, disappearing into the night.
His eyes fluttered shut and he held back his tears as he stood there, waiting for lightning to strike him where he stood. Surely, it'd be better than having to go back into the Hard Deck after a screaming match like that.
He deserved it.
A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He opened his eyes, head darting in the person's direction. Hangman watched him for a moment before he patted his back.
"You fucked up, man," he began, averting his gaze. "Now you've gotta fix it."
"But how?"
"For fucks sake, Rooster," he groaned. He ran a hand through his perfect hair, musing it from the stress of his friend. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought Rooster might actually be a pretty smart guy. This dude was dumber than a box of rocks, and this just proved it.
"They still love you, you know," Bob said, arms crossed over his chest. "We heard what they said, but they're just hurt. You really did a number on them."
He glanced over his shoulder. The Dagger Squad stood there, all watching him as he stood there, in the middle of the parking lot.
This… was all his fault.
Those four simple words should have never left his mouth. He should have been spending the last three years with you, not trying to forget you. Because if he were to have died in that time, it would have at least been with you and not with the overwhelming ghost of you haunting his every waking move. He could have at least left you behind knowing you were loved instead of wondering if he ever truly loved you at all.
Time passed slowly in the month it took you to finally calm down from the emotional rollercoaster Rooster had you on. You were back in your apartment, the east coast calling your name (even though the west coast screamed for your return; the sandy beaches and the salty water just weren’t the same, here).
Your heart ached—every romantic thing you saw made you want to cry. It all reminded you of your ex-husband, and now, there was no changing things. In your anger, you had told him you never wanted to see him again—that you didn't love him. You made sure he knew that when you left him standing in the middle of that damned parking lot.
What a lie that was.
But if he could tell lies, why couldn't you? Why couldn't you force him to live with the idea that you didn't love him, just the way he did that to you?
Regret became you.
You wondered if that’s how he felt all this time—regretful.
Did Rooster even have a bone in his body that was capable of feeling anything other than pride?
Maverick would know.
Did he know about all of this? He had been Rooster’s best man at the wedding. Surely, he knew something.
Your arm rested over your eyes, blocking out the sunlight that peaked through your curtains. Saturday mornings never got easier for you. Hell, no morning did. Getting up was a constant chore. You had already gotten ready for the morning, but you slipped right back into bed, not wanting to deal with the idea of being a live, somewhat functioning adult at the moment.
Your phone began to ring, loud and in your ear as you lay in bed, staring at the back of your arm. With a groan, you rolled over and picked it up.
Phoenix was calling you.
You answered after a moment of your fingers hovering over the bright buttons. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone.
"Hello?"
"Y/n? Hey! So, uh, quick thing, and I promise you I didn't know about it until Bagman just said something, but he gave Rooster your address."
Silence enveloped your bedroom as you processed what she had just said.
"What?!" You immediately sat up in your bed, gripping your phone with unforgiving strength. "What the hell!"
"I know," she continued, voice laced with worry—she didn’t know how you were going to take this. "I know, and I'm sorry. But, uh, he said that Rooster is probably gonna show up within the next hour or so. He caught the earliest flight out there."
"Why?"
"Why?" Natasha echoed. "Y/n, why do you think?"
You fell silent. You stared down at the blankets that pooled at your feet.
Day after day, you wondered if Rooster would show up, begging you to take him back. But the sun continued to set, day in and day out, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.
"Y/n, I know he's an asshole,” Natasha said. “I know he broke your heart. But… Rooster's been through a lot. He might not have realized how bad of an idea it was until he went through with it. He’s… he’s done nothing but regret it ever since.”
"I know he's been through a lot," you said, voice far quieter than it had been. "I know he has. But… but that's no excuse. We were married. I was his partner. He took that away… he took that all away.”
"There's no excuse for him," Phoenix said. "I’m not making one. You’re… you’re my very best friend. But if he shows up and you don't know what to do, you have two options. Turn him away, or… hear him out. Whatever you do, I’m here one hundred percent of the way.”
You swallowed thickly. Without saying anything else, you hung up the phone, tossing it onto your bed. You buried your face in your hands—it seemed to be the only thing you could do recently that would actually allow you to catch your breath.
And then, your doorbell rang.
That was far less than an hour.
The shrill ding of the bell resounded in your brain. You would have to get that changed to something less annoying.
Getting out of your bed and walking down the hallway was the easy part. It was opening the front door that made you want to die as your hand slowly grabbed onto the knob.
You can just turn him away. It'll be okay, you told yourself. He will leave if you want him to.
With much hesitation, you opened the door.
Rooster stood there, worried he had gotten the wrong door and Hangman had given him some shit directions. But as you appeared in the doorway, relief spread across his features. He was dressed in those same shoes you had given him. He wore a pair of jeans, and he wore one of those stupid Hawaiian shirts that he loved so much.
You still had the pink and yellow one you had stolen before you left him in the top left drawer of your dresser. It still smelled like Rooster… but the laundry detergent you had was the same exact one you had used when you were married to him.
Everything you owned reminded you of him.
"Y/n?"
"Bradley."
His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. He nervously wrung his hands together as his eyes looked anywhere but you. This wasn’t that confident, macho man you knew. This wasn’t Rooster.
This was Bradley Bradshaw, in the flesh.
His heart was on the line, and he could only hope that the universe would grant him one last wish—let you believe him. Let you understand him.
He would understand if you turned him away. He would leave, and he would never bother you again. But he hoped that you’d accept him for who he is—for everything he has been.
Again.
Even though it took him so long to realize his mistake. Even though he made so many mistakes just to find himself trying to take it all back.
Rooster never thought he was perfect, but hell. The universe really didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, did it?
"Listen, I know you said you didn't want to see me," he began. "But I can't… I can't keep doing this."
You stayed silent.
Bradley was a lot of things. Stupid, funny, a great, flaming ball of firey anxiety. And still, the love of your life, even now.
Nothing would ever stop that from happening, even if he shoved his hand in your chest, pulled out your heart, and crushed it right in front of you.
Even now, after all this time, you knew you loved him.
He took your silence as an invitation to continue.
"I love you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never stopped. I just… fucked up. God, Y/n, I fucked up so bad. I never should have asked you for a divorce. I never should have said any of that shit. I thought I was protecting you. But the only thing I ended up doing was hurting you more, and I never wanted that to happen.
"I love you, so much, Y/n. I never stopped. I… you are the love of my life. But… but even if I loved you, it wouldn't stop life from standing in the way. My dad died. He left my mom all alone. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering, all alone, wondering what the hell you could have done to make things different. I couldn't let you have the same fate as my mom."
You stared at him, hands gripping the door.
"Why didn't you just talk to me?"
"I… I know I should have."
"So why didn't you?"
"I had already made up my mind…"
And once Bradley Bradshaw made up his mind, that was that. Most of the time, anyway.
Silence enveloped the two of you once more. Birds chirped in the background, cars honking in the backed-up traffic on the interstate not too far from your home. Life was still going on, just like it always would. Life would continue to find a way, even if someone left it behind—even if someone felt as if their world was crashing to an end.
Three years ago, if Bradley Bradshaw had shown up at your door, telling you he had made a mistake, you would have believed him. But watching him as he stood at your door this very moment, you weren't sure. You had every right to slam the door in his face, burning the image of his scared self in the back of your mind. But as you stood here, hands dangling down by your thighs, you knew you couldn't.
Were you stupid for what you were about to do?
Maybe.
But so was Bradley.
"I've started seeing a therapist," Bradley spoke, breaking the silence. "He said it would be good for me to at least… try to tell you why."
"Why you left me?"
He gave a small nod. "Yes. And… he made me realize it never should have happened. It was my fault. It was never yours."
You rubbed your eyes out of frustration, unable to stop yourself from sniffling. A groan escaped you, and he frowned in response.
"Y/n, I… words can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. I can't take back what I said. I can't change the fact that I asked you for a divorce because I was terrified of dying and leaving you alone. But… but I can do this," he said, licking his lips as he watched you.
You tilted your head in confusion, not sure where he was going with this.
Time moved slowly—just as slowly as it had when your world came to a startling halt.
He suddenly held out his hand, locking eyes with you once more. Dark brown eyes peered into yours; those same brown eyes you used to watch until you fell asleep in his arms. Those same brown eyes you stared into when you first said, “I do.” Those same brown eyes you looked into when he asked you for a divorce.
"Hi," the man said, a small smile appearing on his mustache-clad lips. "I'm Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw."
Your eyes widened, your heart leaping to your chest once more, but not because you were scared to face him. But because you couldn't believe this was really happening.
He… was starting over.
You were starting over.
Hesitantly, you took his hand, firmly grasping it before you shook it.
"It's so nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw," you said. Your eyes were still red from your tears, but you began to smile, pushing down the pain and regret of the last three years. It wasn’t worth it. The utter buffoon standing in front of you was worth it. "I'm Y/n Bradshaw," you continued with a grin. "Quite a coincidence, huh?"
Bradley just smiled, tilting his head to the side. You had never changed your name. In fact, you stayed the same, despite the icy shield around your heart. Not that he could blame you.
You were his Y/n. The love of his life—the reason he continued on, and the reason he believed in love, despite the fear that sucked the rational thinking out of him.
Because even when death knocked at his door, he knew you would be there. You would be there, just like his mom was for his dad.
Nothing could change that.
Not the divorce, not his lie that lasted for years. Not the untimely “confession” that left the two of you reeling for each other.
Nothing could change how he felt for you.
And with one instant, you knew your world was mending itself. You'd have problems—that you were sure. You’d have to work on communication; on both sides. But as you moved out of the way for Rooster to come in, you knew it would be worth it.
Love, no matter how much it hurt, was worth it.
Good enough or not.
"Why don't you come in, Mr. Bradshaw? I think we have a lot to catch up on."
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, taking ahold of your hand.
"Only if you'll have me."
"Of course, I will."
This was a start. A new start.
A good start.
You were both starting over. And although you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, a part of you was starting to realize that you may have always been good enough—sometimes, fear was stronger than anyone’s resolve. Fear could make even the bravest people pause; it could cause stupid decisions and brash opinions that change everything a person knows. Minds were a powerful tool that could hurt everyone in its path.
You lived it.
You were still living it.
But like any great thing, sometimes starting over is the best way to go. Sometimes, opening your heart back up is the only thing you can do to move on.
Those same brown eyes you fell in love with peered down at yours, and for once in the past three years, you finally felt at peace. You were good enough. You always had been.
And Bradley Bradshaw was a good man. A great man, even. But even great men can fall short. Even great men can make mistakes. It takes an even greater person to face those mistakes head-on, and an equally great person to forgive and continue on loving, even if they never stopped, to begin with.
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A buncha scribbles from session 15 of the BatIM Cthulhu game! including:
Prophet swapped Sammy in for a brief moment of awareness before the final ritual to release the muses, in which he was relieved to see Susie okay and Susie was glad to see him... back to normal! Oh geez. Sammy doesn't actually know what Prophet's interactions with Susie were, but he's sure he probably regrets them
Susie hummed a little bit of a new version of one of the Bendy songs Sammy had been working on and oH YEAH THATS RIGHT SHE'S STILL KIND OF POSSESSED,
Back when the Coney Island ride they were underneath was flooding, I specified that Prophet was going to climb up the stairs "on all fours" to minimise chances of slipping and falling and I just wanted to try to draw this lmao. i forgot he was wearing a vest here
with Joey exhausted, Allison was the only one who could conduct the final ritual, and Sammy ended up calling out Prophet to keep an eye on her. i was just way too amused by the idea of sammy just TAKING A SWIG OF INK WITHOUT BREAKING EYE CONTACT TO DO THIS
also in addition to me drawing just so many scribbles of sammy lawrence i DO have some out-of-context quotes for you!!
[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]
[GM] It kind of jolts, and turns – assumedly – towards you,
[Sammy] *laughs* YOU CAN’T TELL which direction it’s looking in, just, IT HAS MOVED
[GM] And some tentacles are gonna come at you guys! Like they do.
[Jack] #JustTentacleThings
[Joey] This IS Joey’s arm, which means if it does get destroyed by the circle, Joey’s going to be missing an arm…!
[Jack] I can fix it, it’s fine,
[GM] It’s fine! Yeah!
[Sammy] How many limbs would you like to be made of ink, Joey Drew?!
[Joey] I dunno if he’s gonna have a CHOICE!
[Sammy] You’re going to have fewer working limbs than Moonlight.
[Sammy] These guys might all be those goop people, who are harder to fight than humans –
[Henry] I don’t think Henry’s thinking about that. I think Henry just heard Bendy and Joey scream and is in Go Mode.
[Sammy] Well--
[Henry] I mean, it’s a smart thought! I don’t think Henry’s having it right now.
[Sammy] Leon, if you want to surprise us all and do something really heroic, PLEASE go for it
[Jack] I thought you were going to say “please DON’T”
[GM] “Don’t be a hero!!”
[Sammy] No no, I think it’s fine, if he wants to be a hero, I think he should do it.
[Joey] I mean, if he wants to grab Colette and RUN, that would be great,
[Sammy] Yeah, nobody can DRAIN INK out of HIM!
[Jack] Unless we’re about to learn something,
[Sammy] No, wait, that was Colette’s parents. I can keep all my minor NPCs straight!
[Jack] Straight? In this campaign?!
[Sammy] *startled laugh*
[GM] Tell me about it…!
[Sammy] We can’t keep ANY of our NPCs straight! We’re fundamentally terrible at it.
[Jack] I’m imagining it like, you know when you try to use an item in the wrong place in pokemon?
[Joey] THE MASKED MESSENGER SAYS: IT ISN’T THE TIME TO USE THAT!
[Joey] Hold on. I was going between two normal ideas, and then I had a really weird one, so I need to check something.
[GM] Joey? Making bad decisions in the finale of a scenario? What a thought!
[Joey] hIS SANITY IS NINETEEN, SO!!!!
[Joey] Okay. I have an idea. >:3
[Sammy] Oh NO.
[Henry] Oh no. Have you got a Joey Plan™?
[Joey] *cackling*
[Sammy] *muttering under breath* We really should’ve just… waited for Henry…
[Joey] Joey is going to realise the ink is being siphoned from them for use in whatever this guy is trying to do, and he’s not pleased about that,
[Sammy] Yeah, neither am I. So far we’re on the same page –
[Joey] It’s HIS ink–!
[Sammy] It, it’s not – okay.
[Joey] So, remember when Joey was visited by the Masked Messenger, and they had the little battle over ink possession? Joey is going to take over the Ink in the circle --
[Sammy] OKAY! This SURE is a Joey Drew™ Plan,
[Joey] -- and reclaim it for himself, and take over the magic!
[Sammy] Well, the LAST time we had a circle dedicated to doing something with the Yellow King, and Joey switched it to be himself instead, that went SO well, why WOULDN’T you do the same thing again!!
[Joey] Listen, he has 19 sanity, I don’t know what you’re expecting from him. *rolls* …….He has 18 sanity, I don’t know what you’re expecting from him!
[Henry] Henry is going to shove the blade of his axe against this guy’s throat and tell him if he does anything fishy, he’ll kill him.
[Joey] (This includes turning into a fish.)
[Joey] (No more tentacle monsters, no more fish monsters, none of that!)
[Henry] 32, which is a hard success.
[Sammy] …What’s your intimidate skill?!?
[GM] Oh, y’know, :)
[Henry] 85.
[Sammy] *nervous laughter???*
[Jack] Normal amount.
[Henry] Normal amount!
[Sammy] YEAH, the same number as Sammy’s musical skill??? OKAY COOL!!!
[Sammy] Does Sammy look like his mascara is running? I just want to know.
[Joey] Can I… *quietly* ...grab Colette and toss her out of the circle?
[Sammy] … YEET HER?
[Joey] yEAH,,,
[Henry] Can’t be more damage than falling over a fence.
*everyone giggles except for Sammy*
[Sammy] …Okay.
[Sammy] I can’t believe Joey is stealing Prophet’s nemesis. Rude.
[GM] I mean, Joey DID stab Moonlight. They can share!
[Joey] …I don’t know if they can share. They’ve been doing very bad at sharing.
[Jack] Also she’s not an ink creature, so, big win for you, Leon!
[Sammy] It grabbed me in the leg, right?
[GM] Yeah! This is the cool leg scar.
[GM] Not to be confused with the not-cool leg scar,
[Jack] He’s just never going to live that down, huh.
[Sammy] He COULD, if everyone would stop bringing it up!
[GM] Sammy wakes up and hopes dearly that Prophet tripped over a fence so at least it’s both of them, but no…
[Joey] So – hold on, let me see if a thing existed back then.
[GM] Oh boy…?
[Joey] 18th century. Great! Okay, so I’m going to drain the rest of my magic points, to do a new toon action – you know those, circular saw blades?
[GM] BUZZSAWS???
[Henry] Henry’s gonna do something suuuuuper risky,,,
[Henry] He’s going to drop the axe and summon the scythe.
[Sammy] ….OKAY,
[Joey] Okay…! I’m very curious what’s going to happen if Henry uses the scythe on the mirror.
[Henry] Oh, I wasn’t thinking that.
[Sammy] UM,
[GM] This is fine, this is great!
[Sammy] Nervous chuckle, I’m in danger,
[Henry] Henry is going to say “Sammy, duck!” and, swing the scythe
[Sammy] OH, OKAY, I WILL DO THAT,
[GM] Make a dodge roll!
[Sammy] OhhhHHH THAT’S NOT GOOD… THAT’S NICE, BUT IT’S NOT GOOD,,,, My dodge is 55 and I rolled a 69,
[Joey] Nice
[GM] Nice!
[Henry] And since it’s in close quarters, I’m guessing it’ll go through both of them.
[GM] Yeah! Roll damage!
[Sammy] CAN I,,,, PUSH THAT ROLL MAYBE,,,
[GM]
[GM] No. :)
[Henry] *cackles*
[Jack] THAT’S trauma for future Sammy!!
[Jack] He’s gonna see if Sammy’s okay! See what’s going on.
[Sammy] Sammy still looks pretty shaken up, and will tell him, “Stay back my sheep – I will join you soon.”
[Henry] “I’m not going to hurt him!”
[Sammy] jUST GIVES HENRY A LOOK,
[Sammy] So that’s seven damage!
[GM] Okay! You see that the shadowy figure on the other side is ALSO trying to hit the mirror.
[Sammy] Huh. Can I tell anything about the shadowy figure, now that I’m right up next to the mirror?
[GM] Yeah! :) Uh, looks kinda familiar. It’s maybe somebody you’ve seen before.
[Jack] yEAH I thought it might be,,,
[Sammy] …wait, what?
[GM] Maybe somebody… last scenario…
[Jack] Who’s in Carcosa… and wants to break the mirror…
[GM] Yeah, someone like that maybe!
[Sammy] ………….. Is it… is it Moonlight…?
[GM] Yeah! Yeah it is! ...Anyway, the mirror breaks. :)
*successful dexterity check to avoid getting knocked over*
[GM] Okay, you keep your feet!
[Sammy] Thanks, I like my feet.
[Joey] Joey is going to start scanning for his people, who LEFT HIM while he was being thrown around by tentacles,
[Sammy] You were a great distraction, thank you.
[Jack] You’ve gotta keep a better eye on your people, one of them just stabbed another!
[Joey] EVERYONE ABANDONED ME!
[Sammy] I TOLD YOU WHAT I WAS DOING!
[Joey] Oh, yeah, no, Prophet gets a pass. Everyone else ran off, and –
[Henry] YOU LEFT HENRY!
[Joey] ….eh, ‘strue.
[Joey] …Left Henry with others!
[GM] Bendy’s still there!
[Joey] Yeah. Bendy’s got me.
[Sammy] Joey, any time he’s trying to leave by himself: “No, I’m never alone, I’m with Bendy!” Joey, as soon as we figure he’s fine, because he’s with Bendy: “HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME ALL ALONE?!”
[Jack] Betrayed, Abandoned,
[Joey] And the water is coming in fast,
[Henry] These people are going to have SUCH a mold problem when we’re done…
[Joey] Does Bendy have any magic points…?
[Sammy] “I spent all of mine turning my arms into buzzsaws!”
[Jack] As you do!
[Sammy] Poor Leon. I’m so sorry. You’re going to have to go straight into an asylum.
[GM] You’re pretty sure you’re not in Carcosa.
[Jack] Okay, good. I needed to know if Jack would be panicking about things…
[GM] He’s got plenty to panic about, but that one is currently good!
[GM] I wonder if Sammy… from Sammy’s point of view, Jack was driving when he lost consciousness, and then he’s still driving when he comes back! Like… he doesn’t even know they went to Coney Island, I don’t think?
[Sammy] No, I guess not! Joey was just like “I know where they’re taking Colette”
[Sammy] And now we’re going back to the Studio so it’s like, I guess we got Colette! And got wet, for some reason!
[Jack] At least he didn’t end up seeing The Great Bertrum Piedmont.
[Sammy] There are SO many things it’s good that he didn’t end up seeing.
[GM] Bendy is going to chime in that it was busy, but they went to an amusement park!
[Joey] Joey’s going to correct him that they did NOT go to an amusement park. That was not what that is.
[GM, as Bendy] “That’s what you said it was last time we went!”
[Joey] “Was it like last time we went?!”
[GM] He’ll think about that, go quiet for a minute, and then be like, “No, I guess not, huh!”
[Joey] “EXACTLY.”
[GM, as Bendy] “Yeah, he’s right, we didn’t!”
[Sammy] Hm. Hmmmm. Sammy’s squinting at you both.
[Sammy] He might still cough up blood, just not embarrassingly so. Just, in a cool way!
[Henry] Henry will… “pull” is too strong of a word? But Henry will… physically encourage Joey to step back from the circle.
[Sammy] Ehhhhh, I don’t have a lot of hitpoints…
[Joey] Who needs hitpoints?
[Sammy] I do, I need them!!
[GM] *rolls* …hm. *mumbling to self* What do I do with that…?
[Sammy] Troubling reaction!
[GM] ….huh….
[Joey] Not getting less troubling!
[Henry] I don’t want to keep using the scythe spell, but it keeps presenting itself as the best option!
[Joey] DO YOU HAVE, ANY OTHER OPTIONS,, FIRST????
[Henry] These things have a bajillion HP!
[Sammy] I mean, you COULD do the scythe thing, but maybe don’t hit anybody else with it!
[Jack] I think you should hit Sammy with it again.
[Sammy] NO I DON’T THINK YOU SHOULD
[Henry] Well, my strength is higher… oh no, it’s not, I’ve been doing too much mAGIC,
[Sammy] That’s what happens when you do the scythe spell constantly!!!
[Henry] Uggghhhhhhh...
[Sammy] “Been doing too much scythe spell, better do some more scythe spell!”
[Joey] Do we have any bonus dice left?
[Sammy] *sarcastically* Well! If we end up at the hotel, I DID scout it out ahead of time!
[GM] And Joey is feeling all the way better, except for all the ways that he is not!
[Henry] I just want to say, I did not expect Weird Henry to go on for FOUR SESSIONS.
[Sammy] He went out with a bang, too, sliced a scythe RIGHT THROUGH THE PROPHET,
[Henry] Yeah, everything has been working out so great!
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