Man of his word. It only took a couple of lifetimes.
I was in love with my son's best friend. I didn't know what to do. Then you asked for that toothpaste. I was damned if I wasn't gonna find something.
get you a man who despite his literal decades of practice repressing and hiding his emotions to survive physically cannot hide how smitten he is with you
Warnings: One Suggestive Comment at the End; Unnamed Biological Daughter; Second Person POV ("You"), Female Reader but No Physical Descriptions of Reader or Daughter, No Y/N
This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.
Summary: You and Rooster make a bet about your daughter's first word.
Master List
Getting your daughter to speak had been an interesting experience in the Bradshaw house.
âDada. Câmon, sweetie, say Da-Da,â Bradley cooed to your daughter.
Instead of repeating the phrase, like Rooster desperately wanted, your daughter merely let out a giggle in response to her dadâs antics. She clapped her hands together and stared up at her father with an adoring smile as drool dribbled down her chin.
âDa-Da,â Bradley annunciated again.
âYouâll never get her to say Dada like that,â you commented, looking on with amusement.
âThatâs what you think. But when she says Dada before Mama, youâll be so jealous,â Bradley replied, sending you a wink. âCâmon, honey. Da-Da.â
Your daughter opened her mouth and Rooster smiled, expecting the word âDadaâ to come tumbling out. But instead, she just burped. You let out a laugh and shook your head.
âThat sounded so close to Dada from over here,â you joked at your husbandâs expense.
âVery funny,â Rooster sighed, shooting you a look.
âM . . .â your daughter started to mumble. You and Rooster stopped and stared at your daughter with surprise, waiting to hear if she would finish the word. âM . . .â
âMa-Ma. Go on, sweetie. Ma-Ma,â you encouraged softly, leaning in closer to your daughter.
âM . . .â you daughter repeated, bouncing in place.
You smirked over at your husband as you folded your arms over your chest. He pouted at your daughter, who laughed when she caught his expression.
âYou might as well give up now, Bradshaw, sheâs obviously going to say âMamaâ before she says âDadaâ,â you stated confidently, tilting your chin up.
âThe bet was for the full word, Bradshaw,â Rooster shot back at you. Â
You and Rooster made a small, harmless bet about your daughterâs first word. The winner got to pick the âpunishmentâ for the other, but you both agreed nothing too crazy. If you won, you would more than likely just made Rooster do some chores you didnât want to do. And if Rooster won . . . well, you would have to make sure that your daughter was blissfully unaware in the other room.
âCan you say Mama?â you cooed, trying to encourage your daughter.
âM . . . m . . .â your daughter continued to mumble.
âDa-Da,â Rooster cooed instead, trying to get your daughter back on the âDadaâ train. âCâmon, say Da-Da for me. Da-Da.â
But your daughter didnât seem to want to listen to either of you.
So, you put her down for a nap and went to each lunch. Working together to clean up the house and chatting about your plans for the week, you and Rooster looked up at the same time when the baby monitor went off about an hour later. The two of you made your way to the nursery to get your daughter up for the afternoon.
She was already standing up in her crib by the time that you arrived, bouncing excitedly as she waited to be picked up. Rooster scooped her out of her crib and pressed a series of kisses to her chubby cheek that made her squeal.
âAnd how did my beautiful princess sleep?â Rooster asked, resting her on his hip.
âDa,â your daughter gurgled instead.
âNo, no,â you tried to shush your daughter, but Rooster quickly turned her away from you.
âCan you say âDadaâ for me, honey?â he cooed, keeping you at armâs length.
âDada!â your daughter exclaimed a moment later.
And just like that, the bet was sealed. Rooster won. And your daughter betrayed you.
âYou were supposed to say âMama,â sweetie,â you whined, cupping your daughterâs cheeks with your hands. âI carry you for nine months and this is how you repay me?â
âDada!â your daughter giggled in response.
âThatâs right, sweetie,â Rooster laughed, pressing a kiss to her head. âAnd you said your first word!â
Rooster and you, even though you were still a little disappointed, congratulated your daughter and clapped for her. You daughter laughed and clapped in that dramatic baby way that got both you and Rooster to coo and give her kisses in celebration.
âWell, I believe that I won the bet,â Rooster told you smugly, adjusting your daughter in his arms.
âI suppose you did,â you huffed, still a bit of a sore loser. âWhat did you want then?â
âHow about some . . .â Rooster covered your daughterâs ear and pulled her other ear to his chest to block her hearing. â. . . Mommy and Daddy time?â
âPerv,â you joked, shaking your head at your husband.
Est-ce que je suis la seule à trouver que François Civil dans Les Trois Mousquetaires a des airs de Alexandre Astier dans Kaamelott ? Il aurait fait un bon Arthur jeune je trouve.
Dans le sourire, les mimiques, la façon de jouer, le dessin des lÚvres...
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