thisisgracetrying

[thisisgracetrying]

I always come back to this one lol. Its so cute and I love a flirty Rooster.

Daddy Would Say Yes | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you manage to embarrass yourself in front of Rooster, he still makes it clear he wants you to ask him out.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing and calling Rooster Daddy

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for a request! Check out my masterlist for more!

If you were lucky, Friday nights at the Hard Deck were just a little hectic. If you were unlucky, you were responsible for splitting up fights. And if you were very unlucky, you had to dodge grabby hands while you served up drinks at the bar.

But you still loved your job, as crazy as it was. Especially when you got to throw some of the guys with grabby hands 'overboard'.  

But tonight was Friday the 13th and a full moon. So you were certain your luck would either be very good or very bad today. 

You decided to use the time before your shift started to take a walk along the beach, since you'd be trapped behind the bar for hours later. It was beautiful out, sunny and warm with a little bite to the windy air along the water. And as you neared the stretch of beach in front of the Hard Deck, you were beginning to think this might be your lucky day after all. 

The aviators, whom you recognized by their specific drink orders, were all out playing beach football. And the guys were shirtless. You felt your pace unintentionally slow down as you enjoyed the view before you. 

They were running around and kicking up the water along the shoreline, all laughing and playfully fighting to control the football. As you got closer, a few of them casually waved to you, seemingly recognizing you from work. 

"Holy shit," you muttered, looking at the one called Rooster and nearly choking on your own saliva.

"Heads up, babe!" he shouted to you, and luckily you managed to focus just in time to catch the stray football that was headed your way. "Nice catch!" he called out, making your cheeks warm up.

"Thanks," you said as Rooster ran over to you to retrieve it.

"You wanna come play?" he asked with a smile. You held the ball out to him, and his fingers brushed yours as he took the ball from you with a wink.

"No, I'm having a good time just watching," you promised him with a grin.

"Are you bartending later?" he asked, backing away very slowly as everyone started calling for him.

"Yeah, I'll be serving up your Heinekens all night long."

"See you then," he said with a salute in your direction.

You licked your lips as he turned back to the game. You didn't move as you watched Rooster's muscles flex when he waved his arm to try to get Coyote into position. He was so tan and buff, and maybe even more handsome outside in the sunlight. 

"You should just ask him out," Phoenix told you from a few feet away. "He's single."

You scoffed at the idea of it. "No way he'd say yes. He's a full snack. He's such a... Daddy." You were mortified as soon as the words left your mouth.

Rooster stopped and looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes taking in your entire body. "Daddy would say yes!" he called before throwing the ball to someone else.

Phoenix laughed heartily as you ducked your head in embarrassment. Instead of waiting to see what either of them had to say, you turned and power walked down the beach.

Once you were far enough away that you couldn't hear the aviators, you turned back and looked at them for a second. There was absolutely no way you'd be able to ask him out without embarrassing yourself further, so you headed toward the sidewalk, opting to walk back home a different way. 

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

The bar was packed, and you were overly warm in your Hard Deck Staff tee shirt and cutoff shorts, but so far there had been no fights and no rowdy guys. So the night was looking good. 

And then Rooster arrived, and the night was looking great. He strutted in wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt like he owned the place, which yeah, the aviators kind of did. You watched him hang his sunglasses from his white tank he had layered underneath the button down, and then he met your eyes. 

It took you a second to realize that the pint glass you were filling was overflowing onto your hand. "Shit," you muttered, handing the very full glass to the man who had ordered it. After you added it to the tab, you looked up to take another order, and Rooster had somehow squeezed his way up to the bar. 

"Hi," he rasped, a smug smile settling into place just below his mustache. 

You just narrowed your eyes a bit and asked him, "Can I get you a Heineken?"

He leaned his forearms on the bar and nodded, saying, "I love that you know my drink order."

"I know everybody's drink order," you replied, leaning on your forearms as well. But that was a mistake, because now you were dangerously close to him. You could see amber colored flecks in his brown eyes, and the slightly raised lines of his scars were so close, you could kiss them. "Phoenix drinks Moscow Mules. Payback likes Miller Lite. Hangman favors an old fashioned. Fanboy likes mojitos. And Bob always asks me politely for a ginger ale with no ice."

Rooster laughed and smirked at you. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special."

You just shrugged and pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge and uncapped it for him. "Add it to your tab?" 

"Please," he replied, taking a sip of his beer and settling into a vacant stool. You took some more drink orders, occasionally glancing his way. He looked so good. 

"You're going to hang out at the bar tonight?" you finally asked him as you sliced up some more limes, handing a cupful to Penny where she was working on the other side of the bar. 

He just ran his fingers through the condensation on the bottle. "Mmhmm. Hey, didn't you have something you wanted to ask me?" You looked up at his face, but he was the picture of innocence. You were pretty sure he was referring to you asking him out. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, still mortified that you had called him Daddy. 

"Nope. Can't think of anything I needed to ask you," you managed to say with only a slight tremor to your voice. 

"Well, I can wait here until you think of something," he replied, nodding to Payback when he came up for another Miller Lite. 

"Aren't you going to the pool table with your little friends?" you asked, nodding after Payback as he walked away. 

"Not right now. I'm still waiting for you to ask me your question."

You were flustered now, trying to mash up mint leaves and pretend you weren't listening to him. 

"Are you gonna ask me?" He was a little quieter this time, and when you met his eyes, he didn't seem to be teasing you any longer.

"Not right now," you told him as the woman next to him ordered four gin and tonics. "But maybe later."

"Right," he replied with a pout, picking up his half empty bottle and heading for the pool table. The vacant stool was filled immediately, and you already kind of missed having him so close. 

You watched him pick up a pool cue and laugh with his friends while you shook and poured the drinks. 

"Can you hand me that Tito's?" Penny asked, breaking your focus away from Rooster. 

"Sure thing," you replied, handing her the requested bottle of vodka from your side. You took a few more drink orders, and then Rooster was back up at the bar, in another empty seat. 

"It's later. You got something to ask me yet?" 

"No," you said with a laugh as you collected his empty bottle. 

"Nothing? That's a damn shame," he told you with a little smirk. "How about you get another beer for Daddy. Maybe that will jog your memory."

You looked at him and bit your lip, desire pooling low in your belly. He really was making it clear he wanted you to ask him out, but it might be fun to play around a bit first. 

"Okay, Daddy."

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, he popped out of his seat with wide eyes and a ridiculous grin. 

"Where are you going?" you asked, reaching for his arm across the bar as he started to move.

"Gonna come back there and kiss you. Can't expect me to just stand here while you say that to me."

"No Daddys allowed behind the bar," you told him quietly with an innocent look on your face. 

You watched him tip his head back and groan, the veins in his tan, muscular neck straining. He looked at you and shook his head. "You're just teasing me now, baby," he said, reaching out to stroke your cheek. You were instantly melting into his touch, biting back a soft moan. 

You saw several people trying to flag you down to order drinks. You held up your hand and let them know you would be right with them, just as Penny turned your way.

"Rooster, we're busy! Quit flirting with my best bartender," she called out with a smile. 

"Aww, come on, Pen!" he whined loudly, still touching you. "She's so pretty!"

Penny just laughed, but you ducked your head away from him in embarrassment as someone else further down the bar wolf whistled. 

Rooster watched you open another beer for him and slide it across the bar, but you could barely meet his eye. He took the beer in one hand and then reached for your wrist to gently keep you in place. 

"I'll be at the pool table. You better have a question for me before the end of the night, baby."

You just nodded and bit your lip again as he walked away. You stole a few glances at each other, but you didn't have a chance to stop by the pool table. The bar was swarmed with too many people for you to take a break. 

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

Bradley glanced at you from time to time. His body had felt alive when he touched you, and your voice made him smile every time you spoke to him. He was going to be very disappointed if you didn't ask him out. He wouldn't mind if you happened to call him Daddy again while you were at it. 

Jesus, you were adorable and funny. Bradley never gave you much thought romantically until earlier this afternoon, but he was definitely thinking now. Sure, he liked looking at you, but probably most of the guys here did. He'd helped carry a few handsy guys out of the bar for you since you'd been working here. He knew you could draw a crowd. But now you were drawing him in, and he wanted your attention in the worst way.

It was nearly last call, and Bradley hadn't been back up to the bar. Things were finally quieting down, and most of his friends had already left. He gathered some empty bottles and glasses in his hands and walked them up to the bar to save you a trip. 

Your eyes found his right away as you wiped down the bartop. "Thanks," you whispered with a smile when he set them down. 

"I'm heading out," he told you, nodding toward the door. Your eyes went a little wide as he added, "Getting late. Maybe you'll think of something to ask me another night."

"You're leaving already?" you asked, planting your elbows on the bar and leaning toward him. 

He laughed. "Yeah, it's almost last call. Can't hang around all night."

You were chewing on your lip, and he found himself leaning toward you as well. What would you do if he just kissed you? He wondered if you'd move away or move closer. 

When Penny crossed the bar and leaned on her elbows next to you, Bradley could feel himself blushing.

"What did I tell you earlier, Rooster? Now I'm going to put you to work," Penny said with a wink. She turned toward you and said, "Take him back with you, and have him carry the heavy stuff." 

You slipped out from behind the bar and took Bradley by the hand, and he would have followed you anywhere.

"You're in trouble," you sang over your shoulder. "Now you have to carry all the heavy bottles back to the bar for me." You nudged open the Staff Only door and led him inside. 

He waited until the door shut behind him to tell you, "I don't mind one bit. I actually think I could help you with a lot of things."

He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as you turned toward him with your eyebrows raised and your lips parted. "Okay then, put those muscles to work, Daddy," you said softly with a slight tremor in your voice that made him wild. "You like flaunting them so much, I'm sure I'm not the only one who notices."

The smile fell off his face as he backed you up against the wall. He was so turned on by you. "You gonna keep calling me Daddy?"

Your voice was still soft and unsure now. "Unless you don't want me to. Did I make you uncomfortable?"

He leaned on one forearm next to your head as you waited for him to answer. "Do I look uncomfortable to you?" he whispered with a grin, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. 

"No," you replied, leaning a bit closer as he withdrew his hand from your mouth. You had his heart racing now.

"Too bad you forgot your question," he murmured, dipping his mouth a little closer to yours and reveling in the little sound you made. 

"Rooster?" 

"Ask me, baby."

"Do you want to go out to dinner with me, Daddy?" Your voice was teasing, but your eyes were sincere.

He grinned at you, watching you buzz with anticipation now. "I'd love to," he whispered, tipping your chin up for him to kiss you softly. In an instant, your arms were around his neck, and your body was flush against his. When you moaned softly, Bradley slipped his tongue between your lips and tasted you. Your warm, welcoming mouth was soon open and gasping for air as Bradley worked his lips and mustache down along your neck.

"Tomorrow night? My treat," he whispered, next to your ear.

You agreed and then kissed him hard, your fingers threading through his hair. After a few minutes of making out and nearly knocking over a shelf of expensive tequila, Bradley picked up a heavy crate of liquor for you. When you hooked your fingers through his belt look and led him back to the bar like you did this all the time, he tried his best to hide his smile. 

But the grin that Penny bestowed on the two of you was so smug as Bradley tried to distract you from restocking the bar by nipping and kissing your neck.

"I knew this would be my lucky night," you told him with a smirk as he wrapped his arms around you. "I'll bet tomorrow will be even better."

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

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[thisisgracetrying]

No because sometimes I just need a little walk and a little coffee.

[thisisgracetrying]

This is the funniest shit I’ve seen in a while 😭

[thisisgracetrying]

Where I do sign for mornings like this?

[thisisgracetrying]

And. So. A. Touch. That. Was. My. Birthright. Became. Foreign.

HOW DID IT END The Eras Tour — Toronto, Canada

[thisisgracetrying]

Mmm I’m sorry?! Why didn’t I know about this sweet masterpiece? 40 years old Bradley?! Yes, please 🙂‍↔️. This is so so so cute, I’ll re-read after I hit the reblog bottom.

California Autumn | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.

Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.

"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.

You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.

"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.

"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago." 

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer. At the moment, all he could do was fight the urge to tell you how pretty your eyes were.

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.

He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."

He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.

Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.

"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.

But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"

"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."

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

After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly. 

Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.

"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"

He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."

Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.

"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"

"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

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

"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.

"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."

"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."

His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.

Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.

"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."

You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.

His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Well, fuck.

He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

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

Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house. 

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.

"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy. 

Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."

"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."

Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"

"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy. 

"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."

The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."

"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."

Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."

"He looks like you."

You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him. 

Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."

And then you looked so sad again.

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

To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia. 

One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.

There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.

When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.

"Hi. Bradley."

"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"

"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."

Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking. 

"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."

Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."

Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"

You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me."

For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

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Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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[thisisgracetrying]

Something I think about often is how Taylor could’ve said “Looking back I was too young and didn’t know what to do with our relationship” but she didn’t, she said “if the glint in my eye traced the depths of your sigh down the passage in time back to the moment I crashed into you like so many wrecks do too impaired by my youth to know what to do”.

And I think that’s beautiful.

[thisisgracetrying]

I’m there most of the year ‘cause I hate it here.

I hate it here.

I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind People need a key to get to The only one is mine

[thisisgracetrying]

They didn’t have to do us like that in the first 5 minutes.

THE LAST OF US (2023-?) 2x03 | The Path

[thisisgracetrying]

I think about this duo a lot. My two fav singers. I was so spoiled.

[thisisgracetrying]

I know “the reblog” bottom is optional but I don’t like suffering alone.

good night folks

[thisisgracetrying]

RSD’25: success.

[thisisgracetrying]

Well DAMN

Oh Lord I'm I HELP 🫠

[thisisgracetrying]

Poppy Violet 😭.

This is such a beautiful and peaceful ending, exactly what they deserve. They have brought so much joy to my life, I have felt so many emotions, LOL it’s embarrassing how much I think about them and their love irl.

I said it once and I’ll say it again, if I had to pay for your writing Emily, I absolutely would.

Huge, huge thank you 💕✨.

Aim for the Sky Part 41 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A quiet wedding anniversary spent in the mountains is exactly what you and Bradley need.

Warnings: Adult language, DILF Roo, pregnancy, kinda smutty, lactation kink

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Is that all you're bringing?"

You turned toward your husband where he stood in the bedroom doorway, rocking Rose in his arms while she fussed. Your hand stilled on your bag on the bed. "You haven't specifically told me where we're going, Bradley. Just to pack for four nights."

"Mountains," he grunted, like that was supposed to be explanation enough as he pressed a kiss to your daughter's forehead while she reached for his mustache. But that's all he'd been saying. "Just pack some sexy stuff." 

You'd been picturing a quaint cabin off the beaten path as the destination for your second wedding anniversary, but Bradley had packed two bags for himself and one for Rose. How much could he possibly need? You were starting to question everything now.

"It's not like I have maternity lingerie," you murmured.

"It's not like you need it, Baby Girl. You look cute in my sweatpants. Or nothing." He walked into the room and glanced into your bag which contained just a few outfits, your boat shoes, and your toiletries. "Maybe you packed enough after all. Let's hit the road. I want Rosie to nap on the way."

Twenty minutes later, your daughter was already sound asleep in her car seat as your husband buckled you into the passenger seat of the red Bronco. You yawned as he pulled the seatbelt over your belly, and he bent to kiss his daughter as she squirmed against your bladder. You contemplated running back inside to use the bathroom again, but you were about to doze off just like Rose.

Bradley's lips brushed yours. "We'll be there in a few hours."

You nodded, thinking you'd wake up for part of the ride to enjoy Bradley's Motown playlist and his rich singing voice. But instead, you managed to sleep through several hundred miles and the sunset, only waking up in time to hear the tires crunching.

"There's snow!" you gasped, gaze catching on the evergreen trees covered in white in the dying light.

"Yeah," Bradley replied between songs on his playlist as he turned down a driveway. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

Your breath fogged the window as an opulent house three times the size of the Craftsman came into view. The windows were glowing orange; there was a porch the size of your entire driveway. "When you said mountains, you meant like whole-ass mountains! I packed my boat shoes!"

Bradley snorted as the Bronco came to a stop while you gawked at the mountains all around. "I added some of your cold weather clothes to my bag. Some of the stuff you used to wear when we went to Maryland for the holidays."

Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. One month until Christmas. It dawned on you that you and Bradley had no real reason to go back east now even though you both had roots there. "After Nugget Part Deux is born, we should take the girls to explore Virginia and Maryland. We can see your cousins. We can stop at the cemetery and visit your parents."

Bradley paused with the driver's side door open, cold air rushing into the Bronco's warm interior as his brown eyes studied yours. "What made you think about that?"

It was hard to put into words the way his parents would fill your mind with sadness and your heart with so much love it almost hurt. "I miss them."

"Me, too," he replied easily, never questioning the way you felt like Carole and Nick held a place in your family although you'd never met them. "Let's do that in the summer. And let's work on picking a name for Nugget Part Deux. It's getting to be a mouthful."

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

You were laughing at the sight of Rose in her head-to-toe snow suit, but Bradley was busy making sure her exposed cheeks and nose weren't getting too much of the cold air. He kept picking her up from the snowy cabin steps to press his lips to her face.

"Feels okay," he whispered, letting her continue to play. She seemed to like the cold as she crawled toward the spot where you were sitting, compiling a small mound of snowballs as you casually tossed out one of the baby names that you claimed was on your short list.

"Nora?"

Bradley grunted in response. "It's okay." Personally, he had really liked some of the names that seemed to match better with Rose's. "What about Violet? Wasn't that on the list?" He watched Rose pat the snowballs and giggle as you scooped her up. Two cute little girls with pretty flower names just made sense.

"Yeah, I liked that one. And I liked Poppy."

"Me, too," he agreed, watching your smiling face as you put some of your snowballs into Rose's mittened hand and tried to launch them at him. When they fell short, you threw them directly at his chest instead.

"She's not cooperating!" you complained. "You're supposed to be on my team, Rosie. The girls team."

"Absolutely not." Bradley scooped up some of the powdery snow and sprinkled it over your head until you were rolling your eyes. "Rosie is on Team Daddy. Better luck with Poppy Violet, Sweetheart."

As he plucked the baby from your hands, you smiled up at him. "So it's settled then? She has a name? For real?"

Naming Rose after a song he'd played for you made sense, but this made sense, too. "Yeah. She officially has a name," Bradley said softly as his gaze settled on your belly. It was hard to tell you were pregnant with your winter coat zipped up and snug around your body, but his hands were so used to the way your hips and waist felt right now. Suddenly he couldn't wait to touch you. "Let's go inside. I don't want Rosie to get too cold, and the wind is starting to pick up now that it's getting dark."

"You just want to mess around," you replied, getting to your feet on the snowy steps.

"Of course I want to mess around. My wife is hot."

Your eye roll was accompanied by a little smirk. "Let me feed Rosie so she can take a nap, and then it can be your turn."

Bradley watched you settle into the overstuffed couch in front of the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the mountains. Fresh snow was beginning to fall as he poked at the logs in the fireplace, making sure the great room was warm enough for his girls. Then, as Rose curled against your round belly, he made himself useful in the adjoining kitching. He knew you'd be hungry for dinner after you were done feeding her, and Bradley was always hungry. The leftover turkey deli meat and stove top stuffing would make the most perfect sandwiches, so he lined everything up on the counter.

"It's so pretty here," you murmured, eyes fixed on the windows as he dimmed the lights so you could see the heavy snowfall that was moving in. "I wonder how much snow they'll have here by Christmas."

"We could find out next year," Bradley mused. "We can come back with your parents and the girls. There are four bedrooms, after all."

"Do I even want to know how much you spent on this?" you asked, turning to look at him.

Bradley deftfully dodged the question. "Just imagine a huge tree in the corner. Poppy's first Christmas. I'm sure your mom would make dinner, or we could just do sandwiches again. I'm kind of liking the sandwiches."

"I'm kind of liking all of this," you whispered, repositioning Rose to burp her, but Bradley loved that task. He settled on the couch beside you and took her in his big hands, patting her back. "You were right, Roo. We needed a little break as a family."

When you went to put your bra back on, he shook his head. "Don't bother with that. I'm going to be all over you in a minute. Rose always burps quickly for me, just like a good little Nugget."

His sentence was followed by a soft burp that made you laugh, which made your tits bounce, which made Bradley whimper as he stood to put the baby down for a nap so he could get his fill of you.

When he returned to the living room, you were naked, skin glowing in the firelight as you coaxed him closer to the couch. "Oh, you look so pretty, Baby Girl. We're definitely going to have to come back here."

You giggled as you unzipped his jeans and straddled his lap. "We can't fuck in front of the fireplace if my parents are here with us."

"Please, stop talking about them," he whispered, letting your heavy breasts fill his palms as you guided his erection to your pussy. Your body was perfect and welcoming as he filled you until you gasped. "That's a good girl."

Your head lulled back as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, and you kept his cock warm until it was time for him to fuck the absolute shit out of you.

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

As soon as you stirred in the California King sized bed that you and Bradley had spent the better part of last night defiling, you heard him rasp, "Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart."

You stretched, feeling the workout he'd given you throughout your entire body. You were sore, in a good way, but combined with your pregnancy exhaustion, you were hoping to sleep in a little longer. His smile more than made up for the early hour when you looked at him.

"Has it really only been two years? It feels a lot longer than that," you whispered, kissing along his unshaven cheek to his mustache.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment, or..."

"It's a compliment," you promised, wrapping your arms around him. "Hey, remember that time you asked me out and I said no?"

"Hmm, vaguely." He squinted at the ceiling and chuckled as his hand came to rest on the side of your belly where Poppy was currently thumping around. "But that didn't last long. And look how far we've come, Baby Girl." He turned his head, dark eyes earnest as he asked, "Want to take a bath while I get breakfast ready? I brought the thermometer to test the water for you."

He had packed pretty much anything you or either of your daughters might possibly need. And a bath did sound good, especially after last night. But since you couldn't have the water as hot as you liked, you didn't linger very long, opting to join your husband istead. 

More snow had fallen overnight, but he had a fire warming the living room where he was walking around, holding Rose to his chest with one hand. He was singing a song from his Motown playlist, and you were shocked she was reaching for his mustache instead of crying to eat. But that changed as soon as she saw you.

"Not so fast, Nugget," he crooned. "Let Mommy take a bite of her breakfast first." That's when you noticed two slices of confetti cake and two flutes of pink champagne on the coffee table. "It's non-alcoholic, so have as much as you want. And I brought the cake from your favorite bakery back in San Diego."

Somehow it was perfect. Everything was perfect. Bradley in his ratty gym shorts and Rose fussing to eat. Cake for breakfast and couch snuggles for the entire day.

"I love you, Bradley," you promised, reaching for his hand and pulling him close until his lips found yours for probably the millionth time in just a few years. "I love you so much. You make everything perfect."

His lips curled against yours as he smiled. "I just want to spend the day with my girls."

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

Let that man enjoy spending time with his girlies! He earned it! That's the end of the series, besties! This has been so fun for me! Thanks you so much for reading along and leaving so much love. I'd love to visit Roo and BG (and all these other wild and crazy kids) through asks, blurbs and one-shots, so please feel free to send them to me. Love love love you!

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[thisisgracetrying]

[thisisgracetrying]

I love a good mustache

STEVE “he’s a wife guy, he’s a new dad, he’s a loose cannon, he’s your boss now, he’s a fucking hillbilly, he’s got the smoothest southern voice ever, he’s Tired™️, he doesn’t want your fuckin’ daiquiri, he’s sitting like a whore, he’s got the longest legs a bitch has ever seen” MURPHY (description via @bellamuertes) NARCOS (2015-2017)

[thisisgracetrying]

I miss the eras tour 😭

such a cutie ^^