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chaostheoryy · 2 years

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Wedding Crashers [Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X GN!Reader]

Summary: As one of Bradley’s most treasured companions from his early Navy days, you’ve been lucky enough to find yourself at his side more and more. However, no amount of caffeine-fueled rendezvous and shameless fun prepares you for the moment he asks you to be his plus one at Maverick’s wedding.

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol consumption, (spoilers!) a heated make out session, and implied sexual encounters

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Man, oh man. This one sure got out of hand. Did I intend to write this much? Absolutely not. But I am just a slave to the feral little writer in my head and they said they needed more. I’m also tempted to pull a Crawlin’ Back to You and create a NSFW sequel like I did for Cobb Vanth so we’ll see what the people have to say...(No beta as usual. Just me, myself, and the feral little voice in my head.)

“How would you feel about crashing Mav’s wedding?”

Now there’s a question you weren’t expecting to hear at nine in the morning.

Ever since Bradley made the decision to stay in San Diego after the big mission that reunited him with his surrogate uncle, the two of you have been meeting for coffee at Ferry Landing every Sunday. It started as an accident, really—you bumped into each other one morning, not realizing the other person was still in town and decided to catch up over lattes and pastries. It’s not every day that you get a chance to rekindle a friendship from your Navy days. Especially when that friendship is with one of the best pilots that has ever graced North Island’s runway.

You stare blankly at him for a moment as you process his inquiry. “You’re joking.”

“Mmm…” He narrows his eyes, tilting his head and biting his lip in faux deliberation. “I wish I was. But no. I am not sitting through a long, boring and ridiculously outdated ceremony by myself.”

“Bradley, you’re his best man. You’re gonna be right up there with him!”

He groans. “I know! I just—Please. Don’t make me brave this one alone. I’ve gotta stand in front of a hundred-plus people in matching suit and tie with a bunch of dudes I barely know. Then what? Have drinks with Mav’s crotchety old Navy friends?”

“He’s not a grandpa, dummy.”

“Good point. Now that you mention it, I’d probably be more excited to share a beer with a group of grandfathers than those geeze—Ow!”

A quick jab of your fist against his shoulder silences whatever other bratty comments he has sitting on the back burner.

“Fine,” you say with a pointed glare. “If it’ll get you to stop whining, I’ll go.”

His face lights up like night sky. You can tell he tries to hide it, but it’s harder for him to contain his youthful jubilance than it is for Top Gun cockpit jockeys to keep it in their pants. “Really?”

“Yes. But you owe me. Big time.”

“Okay. Yeah. Great. Whatever you want!”

His arms ensnare you in a rib-crunching hug. All the air is sucked out of your lungs and, for a split second, your feet clear the earth from the sheer force of his embrace. If it wasn’t for the fact that you placed your drink on the railing of the rickety wooden pier, you’d be coated in a blend of espresso and hot milk by now.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you groan as he places you back down, “I didn’t know the idea of getting stuck at a wedding was such a fucking nightmare.”

“Hey, getting shot down in an F-18 after blowing up an unsanctioned enemy uranium enrichment plant can really change your perspective on things.”

You scoff. “Right. I’ll be sure to squeeze that into my schedule next week so I can understand where you’re coming from a little bit better.”

“If that’s what it takes for you to get me,” he replies with a crooked smirk.

An agreeable lull settles over the conversation as you both look out at the bay. With crisp waters backdropped by the San Diego skyline and impossibly blue, cloudless skies, it’s a view you’ll never cease to enjoy. Having Bradley at your side to soak it in with you makes it all the more surreal.

“Why me?” It’s a valid question, one that’s been bugging you from the moment he asked you to go with him.

His face contorts into an almost painful expression of bewilderment. “What do you mean, why you?”

“I mean, why are you asking me to be your plus one. You’re basically an A-list celebrity around here and I’m sure there’s an astronomic number of people who’d be thrilled to go with you. I’m just saying, I don’t see why I’d be the first person you wanna ask.”

“Okay, first off, I’m C-list at best. Secondly, who said you were the first?”

As calm, cool and collected as you try to be about the situation, it’s impossible to keep all of your emotion locked up in a box. Your face falls at his remark.

“Oh. That’s—Yeah. No. You’re right. I don’t know why I thought—“

The flat, almost unreadable look he’s been giving you vanishes in an instant. A humongous grin stretches out from ear to ear in its place. “Hey. I’m kidding. Of course you’re the first! Who else would I wanna ask? Natasha? Hangman?”

You both cringe at the very mention of Jake Seresin’s call sign. Never in your life have you met a more unbearably cocky person. And you only spent thirty minutes in a room with the guy. You can’t imagine just how insufferable he is up in the air.

“Seriously,” he adds as his hand finds a resting place between your shoulder blades, “I’m asking you because I want to. Because I can’t think of a better person to crash a wedding with.”

At this point, you’re not sure if you’re blushing or not. And frankly, you can’t blame yourself if you are. You’ve always known that the bond the two of you share runs deep, but a part of you has always hesitated to believe that you actually play a significant role in his life. Why would you? He’s Bradley fucking Bradshaw. And you’re…Well, you.

But apparently being you is enough.

You grin. “Well, consider me your wingman.”

The gleeful twinkle in his eye shines even brighter at your response. You don’t know how it’s possible, but somehow this spunky golden retriever of a man manages it. “You’re my wingman? Nah, fuck that bullshit. I’m yours, sweetheart.”

***

The day of the wedding comes much faster than you expected. It seems like just yesterday that Bradley was asking you to be his plus one but somehow that’s a whole month and a half ago now. Time is the universe’s most nefarious trickster.

You’ve spent far too much time trying to figure out what you want to wear. Weddings aren’t exactly your forte, especially having spent most of your time surrounded by military brats who, between the toxic masculine mindset and the constant anxiety of being one phone call away from a suicide mission, are afraid of commitment. Getting invited to a wedding by one of your former Navy buddies is about as likely as a thunderstorm in San Diego.

But hey, you’ve managed to pull something nice together for this shindig. It’s not Tom Ford or Louis Vuitton nice but it’s still quite the look. The outfit hugs all the right places and is undeniably flattering. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, it leaves very little up to the imagination in certain parts of your body. Who can complain about turning a few heads because their ass looks good?

“Holy shit,” Bradley gawks as he watches you descend the steps into the parking lot of your apartment complex. “You look amazing.”

Yeah, can’t help but blush at that.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Bradshaw,” you reply with a coy smile.

Dressed in a sharp, black tuxedo, he looks incredible. How a man who is a ten on even his worst days manages to get even more attractive is beyond you.

“I clean up when I want to,” he says proudly.

“I can tell.”

He gives you a once over, soaking in every detail of your outfit. When his eyes trace over the more…personal aspects of your figure, he makes no effort to hide it. He’s looking and he wants you to know it.

Despite the butterflies in your stomach and the color in your cheeks, you manage to play it cool and roll your eyes. “Alright, would you quit checking me out and get in the damn car? You can’t crash a wedding if you don’t actually go to it.”

He smirks at your flustered diversion but turns to pry open the passenger door of his Jeep. “After you, my dear.”

Once you climb in and he shuts the door behind you, he circles around to hop in the driver’s seat. Rather than start the car, however, he turns to you and holds his hand out, palm up as if waiting to receive something.

You eye him quizzically. “What?”

“Where’s my tip?”

“Your tip?”

He fakes offense. “Uh, yeah! You really expect me to chauffeur your ass across town and provide unbeatable, gentlemanly service, and you’re not going to tip me?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re right. I’m so sorry. Hold on.” You pat your lap and hips, pretending to search your person for a wallet. “Ah-ha! Here it is. For you, my good sir.”

You give him the middle finger with both hands.

He barks out a laugh and nods enthusiastically. “Fair enough,” he says as he starts the engine. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand. Next stop: holy matrimony.”

***

Though the ceremony itself is far from exciting, the venue is stunning. Maverick, being Maverick, managed to work some magic and secured the entirety of Harbor Island Park for the big day. With the San Diego skyline to the east and North Island directly across the bay, it’s the perfect spot for the occasion.

The entire time vows are being exchanged, your eyes wander to the groomsmen standing behind Maverick. Standing up there with a big smile on his face and admiration in his eyes, Bradley watches as his father’s best friend finally gets to say “I do.”

Every now and then, he steals a glance your way. You lock eyes, share the tiniest grin, and both end up biting your lips to keep from drawing attention to yourselves.

Though you won’t admit it, there’s another, less innocent reason you have to avert your eyes so quickly each time. Yes, this is Maverick’s big day and he is glowing up there with Penny’s hands in his. But, as much as it drives you crazy to even think about, there’s another man stealing the spotlight with his broad shoulders and bright eyes. The more you look at him, the harder it gets to look away. And man, would it be a treat to see all that Bradley Bradshaw has to offer.

***

The dinner is exceptional. And not just because it’s being held in a waterfront restaurant with floor to ceiling windows that overlook the harbor. While you’re no wedding food aficionado, you’re pretty certain that this is the best meal you could possibly ask for at such an event. It tastes like heaven and the preparation is infuriatingly impeccable. Honestly, who the hell takes the time to make little sauce flowers on the plate of every single guest? It should be illegal.

You’re sitting alone at the reception table while Bradley fetches you both another glass of champagne when you hear a vaguely familiar voice utter your name. It sounds strange. Not in an uncomfortable way, but in a “I know you so well even though you and I have never met” kind of way.

Sure enough, you find yourself looking up into the impossibly hopeful eyes of Pete Mitchell. Though you and Bradley have known each other for years and have spent a lot of time together in recent months, you have never once gotten the chance to meet the man behind so many of your friend’s life stories. Guess it was only a matter of time. You are at his wedding, after all.

Clambering to your feet, you instinctively raise your arm to salute him. “Captain Mitchell. Sir. It’s an honor.”

With a chuckle, he reaches out and grabs your arm, lowering it back down to your side. “Please,” he says. “The only time anyone seems to call me Captain Mitchell around here is when I’m getting reprimanded. Maverick is fine. Or Mav, if you wanna save yourself a couple syllables.”

“In that case, it’s nice to meet you, Maverick. I hope you don’t mind me being here.”

“Not at all,” he beams—his smile is ludicrously bright and charming in a way that almost makes you nervous to be on the receiving end. “I was actually hoping I’d get the chance to introduce myself sooner or later.“

You blink. Now that’s a statement you weren’t expecting to hear. “Really?”

“Of course! I’ve been eager to meet the person Bradley speaks so highly of.”

“He’s mentioned me?”

Maverick laughs again. “Once or twice,” he replies. “And by once or twice, I mean you’re just about all he talks about whenever we catch up.”

There’s definitely color in your cheeks now. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Seriously. Of course he’s mentioned you. You’re someone he spends a lot of time around. At the very least, he’s shared a story or two with Maverick about your caffeine-fueled Sunday shenanigans or late night phone calls.

“Hey, Mav.”

Both you and Maverick find yourselves turning sharply at the sound of Bradley’s voice. Just as expected, he’s got a glass of champagne in each hand. He hands you one and places the other on the table next to you before giving Maverick a tight hug.

“Thank you for coming, Bradley,” Maverick says as he clings to the fabric at Bradley’s shoulder.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

When they separate, the two exchange gentle smiles. There’s so much admiration in their eyes—the kind of admiration that only comes from shared experience and years of devotion. Bradley may not be his son, but it’s clear that Maverick would do everything in his power to protect him.

“I see the two of you have finally met,” Bradley notes as he snags his glass from the table.

“That’s right,” Maverick says.

Bradley’s eyes jump between the two of you. “And?”

“And we were just discussing how nice it is to put a face to the name after all these years,” you explain. A smirk pricks at the edge of your lip. “Especially since you seem to spend a lot of time gushing about me to poor Maverick here.”

Never before have you seen Bradley Bradshaw grow that red, that fast. Whatever supplier he gets his daily dose of confidence from has apparently gone out of business because the signature Rooster smile that you’ve grown accustom to seeing flees his face faster than a supersonic jet. He’s embarrassed. Scandalized, even.

He’s never looked cuter.

“Great. So glad you two are getting along,” Bradley mutters. “I’m gonna take that as I sign that I need to spend a little more time at the bar.”

He slinks back a step and is about to turn and head away but Maverick intercepts him with a hand on the shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey. Relax. I’ll get out of your hair. The groom’s gotta make rounds and say hi to everybody before people start getting too drunk or too bored to stick around.”

Maverick yanks Bradley into another hug, then turns to smile at you.

“It was nice meeting you, Maverick,” You say as offer your hand, assuming he intends to shake it.

To your surprise, however, he doesn’t take it. Instead, he wraps you up in his arms and gives you a hug. You nearly melt. To be welcomed so wholly by the person who means more to Bradley than anything in the world is something you can’t possibly take for granted.

When he releases you, he lets his hand rest on your shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. In the meantime, keep an eye on this son of a bitch for me, would ya? He’s trouble.”

The ear to ear grin that finds your lips threatens to crack your face wide open. “Yeah, I know,” you reply. “That’s kinda why I keep him around.”

“Good. Now, you two go have fun!”

You watch for a moment as Maverick strolls over to the next table and shakes hands with another pair of guests. When Bradley clears his throat, you turn your attention back to him. There’s still a faint pink tint in his cheeks but overall, the chagrin that had stricken him during the conversation with Maverick appears to a have diminished.

“So…?”

The puzzled expression on his face is almost too amusing for you to hold in a chuckle. “So, what?”

“So, what’s the play for the remainder of the evening? Surely you don’t plan on sitting at an over-decorated banquet table all night.”

“Absolutely not. I’d rather suck Hangman’s dick.”

“Gross.”

“Exactly.” He takes a massive gulp of champagne and unbuttons his suit jacket to loosen up. “The plan is: get trashed to the point where the floor becomes the ceiling and the walls are made of liquid, then—without a single sober brain cell left to hold me back—embarrass the ever-loving fuck out of myself by tearing the dance floor to shreds.”

You bark out a laugh. “I really hope you aren’t expecting me to do the same.”

“C’mon. You’re really gonna ride the bench while I carry Team Wedding Crasher to the championship?”

You consider his words for a moment. As much as you detest the idea of making a fool out of yourself in front of several dozen well-dressed strangers, you find the sheer possibility of disappointing Bradley to be even worse. Besides, life’s too short to give a shit about what a bunch of middle-aged Navy officers think of you.

“Alright, wingman,” you declare with a smirk. “Let’s give ‘em hell.”

***

Hell hath risen.

Not for the partygoers, of course. The devil spares their innocent souls this round. Instead, you and Bradley have found yourselves consumed by the cursed flames of alcohol’s aftermath. The drunk bliss you’ve enjoyed for the past few hours has faded, leaving behind a brutal malady of headaches and nausea. So here you are, kneeling on the tiles of an upscale restaurant bathroom with your head in the toilet.

“You alright in there?” Bradley asks from the other side of the door.

The groan you utter in response is far cry from conveying a coherent thought, but he takes it as an answer nonetheless. He pushes open the door—which, bless your drunken ass for being too lazy to lock it—and crouches down next to you. A gentle hand begins rubbing your back.

“How you feelin’?”

“Never better,” you manage to grumble as you lay your head on the arm you’ve draped across the toilet seat. “How ‘bout you?”

“I feel like dog shit.”

“Great.”

He chuckles and takes hold of your forearms to help you to your feet. “Let’s free up the bathroom and go get some air.”

Clinging to his arm like a frail, old grandparent, the two of you make your way outside. The earth isn’t swaying anymore but man, your legs want absolutely nothing to do with getting your body from point A to point B. Thankfully, Bradley seems to have enough mental and physical strength for the both of you.

A short walk down the path that lines the rocky shoreline later, you find yourselves back at the park where the wedding ceremony had been held earlier that evening. All the chairs and decorations are gone. The only sign of celebration that remains are a few pink and white flower petals nestled in the grass.

Bradley helps you ease yourself down on one of the waterfront benches before taking a seat next to you. With his bowtie undone and his hair disheveled, he looks far less put together than the man who’d stolen glances at you during the ceremony and yet, he still maintains that aura of charm that makes it impossible for you not to swoon.

“How are you so put together?” You ask. “I’m pretty sure you had twice as much to drink as I did and I’m the one getting pried off the bathroom floor.”

He smirks. “Guess I’m just that tough.”

The flat, unamused look on your face must communicate your disbelief perfectly because he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m kidding,” he adds. “Pretty sure I’m going to go full Exorcist on my bathroom the second I get home.”

“That’s hot.”

You both laugh.

A pleasant silence falls over the bench as you both look out at the water. Reflections of the city lights dance across the waves like sea-bound stars. The gentle breeze that kisses your skin brings with it a comforting chill that perfectly balances out the discomforting heat of your impending hangover. You still feel like crap but it turns out a beautiful view works wonders when it comes to distracting a person from suffering.

After a moment, you dare to peer at Bradley from the corner of your eye. He looks so at peace. There’s the tiniest smile lingering at his mouth and the way his attention is torn from the bay every time a plane flies overhead reminds you of the unbreakable optimism of a child. How can a man so handsome and resolute be so gentle? How can that gentleness be a privilege you’ve become so familiar with?

“Thank you.”

He’s not looking at you when he says it, but you tear your eyes from his face as if you’ve been caught anyway.

“For what?” You ask.

“For coming with me tonight. I know weddings aren’t the most exciting thing in the world, but it means a lot to me that you came anyway.”

You study his expression closely. It’s hard to place your finger on why, but you get the sense that he genuinely hadn’t expected you to say yes.

“I’m glad you asked me,” you admit quietly.

He turns his head to look at you. “Really?”

You nod.

“Good.” He exhales. The blissful smile on his face curls into something more playful. “I was worried you might regret the whole thing after I peeled you off the dance floor.”

“Y’know what? That blonde bitch is lucky I was too hammered to tussle. If I were sober enough to plot my revenge, I would’ve snapped the heel off one of her stilettos and watched her stumble into the dessert table. I mean, c’mon! Who trips a person throwing it back to Lady Gaga?”

“That should be a federal offense.”

“Seriously!”

There’s another lull in the conversation. It’s not a bad thing by any means, but it definitely makes you wonder what is going on inside the man’s head. He may not be as outspoken as other Navy pilots like Hangman, but he certainly isn’t shy either.

“There’s one thing I’m disappointed I didn’t get to do tonight though.”

You raise your brow at the comment. “What’s that?”

“I never got the chance to ask you to dance.”

“What are you talking about?” A huff of laughter rolls off your tongue. “We literally just spent the last two hours dancing!”

He considers your reply. “Yeah, that’s not quite the dancing I’m talking about.”

Oh.

You blink. With your jaw hanging loose from its hinges and your eyes wide, you must look like a grade-A idiot.

“You…Wanted to slow dance with me?”

“Is that really such a surprise?”

And just like that, your cheeks are turning red and whatever hope you had for staying calm, cool and collected about the whole thing has skipped town.

“N-no!” You stammer. “Well, yes. But it shouldn’t be. I mean, you asked me to be your plus one at a wedding so I really shouldn’t be shocked. That’s kinda the whole point of plus ones, right? I guess I just never expected you to actually want me to be that kind of plus one. And I know that probably makes zero sense now that I say that out loud but it’s just—“

“Hey.”

The remainder of your blabbering monologue dies on your tongue when he reaches over to cup your jaw in his hand. His fingertips caress the delicate skin just below your ear while his thumb strokes your cheek with timid curiosity.

There it is. That sweet-tempered charisma that you’ve been so fascinated by. Oh, what a privilege. What a dangerously addictive privilege to be on the receiving end of such an unrivaled indulgence.

“Bradley,” you exhale.

You don’t know why you say his name. You don’t even know why you say anything at all. It just sort of slips out, as if you’ve been holding it in all night. And the way his pupils dilate ever so slightly as your voice floats into his ear makes it clear that he’s been waiting just as long to hear you say it.

He’s staring at your lips now. It’s painfully obvious and he doesn’t give a damn. He’s telling you exactly what he wants without uttering a single word. As if to seal a letter of his desire, the thumb on your cheek glides over to brush the corner of your mouth.

The beating of your heart is deafening. Sure, the sound of the waves colliding with the rocks just a few steps away is irritatingly loud but they sound like they’re a mile away in comparison to the thudding in your ear. What you would give to tune it all out right now.

Fearful that he’ll take your silence as an indication that he’s crossed a boundary, you lean into his hand and kiss the pad of his thumb. His breath catches in his throat. The fingers at your jaw twitch. His thumb, now pressed to the center of your mouth, traces your bottom lip with the measured stroke of an artist smearing paint across his canvas. Never before have you felt so delightfully fragile.

“Fuck,” he whispers with the desperation of a man forced to sin. “You have no idea how bad I want to kiss you right now…”

You nearly choke on the lump in your throat. A reply lingers in the back of your mind: then why don’t you? But, as if he can hear your every thought, he answers before the question can breach your vocal cords.

His tongue dips out to wet his lips. “But I know if I do, I might not ever want to stop.”

Just like that, the sense of helplessness that you’ve been feeling gives way to unrestrained desire. You want this. You need this. You don’t even know what this is but you aren’t about to let it slip away.

Fingers curling around his wrist, you squeeze his forearm like a vice. “I don’t give a damn if I suffocate,” you growl. “Kiss me right now or I swear to God, I’ll rip that mustache off your face.”

Maybe threatening a man isn’t the most romantic thing you could have said but it gets the job done. His lips instantly come crashing into yours. It’s so fast, so passionate that it draws a small gasp from your lungs.

Instinct takes hold of your body as your hands blindly seek shelter somewhere in the sanctuary of his body. One hand ends up clinging to his shoulder while the other curls around the back of his head to bury itself amongst the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. Fingernails scrape their way up his scalp until his tongue dips into your mouth and drives you to anchor yourself to the earth by grasping at a fistful of his hair.

You tug. He groans. The sound rumbles like an earthquake in his chest and tickles a primal, needy part of you that you’ve long since forgotten. At that moment—at that sound—all of the self control you have left crawls right out of your skin to leap in the waves and drown.

Without so much as a second thought, you crawl into his lap so that you’re straddling his thighs. He has to crane his neck slightly to kiss you now but he doesn’t seem to care. You’re right where he wants you. And the sudden pressure of his hands seizing your waist to pull you flush against his body confirms it.

It’s hard to tell how long you stay like that. The concept of time itself seems to vanish and the world around you has pretty much ceased to exist altogether. All you know now—all you even care to know—is the taste of Bradley’s lips and the heat of his breath on your skin.

When the kiss is finally broken so you can give your lungs some much needed oxygen, his mouth latches onto your neck. Teeth graze your throat and his tongue leaves a ghostly trail of saliva in its wake. There’s no doubt that you’re going to find a collection of hickeys on your neck tomorrow and, in all honesty, you’re glad. You want to remember this, to look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow morning and think about what it feels like to be consumed by the man you’ve grown to love.

A tiny whimper slips from your mouth as he sucks a particularly dark mark onto your skin. Maybe that was his closing remark. Or maybe the sound you made was a little too reminiscent of a person wincing in discomfort. Either way, his mouth finally eases off and he pulls back to look at you for the first time since this has all started.

“You make me crazy,” he murmurs as he slides one hand down to your thigh.

You let out a breathless huff of laughter. “I can’t make you something you already are, Bradshaw.”

“Fair enough.”

Dragging your hands toward his neck, they find their place just above the collar of his shirt as you lean in to kiss him again. It’s much slower this time. The initial hunger has been satiated just enough to allow you to coast on affection rather than whatever lust-fueled engine had kicked off the whole encounter.

“Mmmm,” he hums into your kiss. “I wanna take you home with me…”

Something hot and heavy pools in the pit of your stomach at that. Making out with Bradley has been heaven sent. It’s more than you could have hoped for and you are beyond grateful for the opportunity. But this impossibly handsome, shamelessly sensual man just can’t seem to count his blessings. He wants more and he has no desire to hide it.

Not that you’re opposed…

You drag your tongue over his bottom lip and grin. “Well maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you.”

He shifts underneath you, legs separating just enough to make you feel an ache in your thighs as you continue to straddle him. The movement brings your attention to something else as well. There’s a firm, hot pressure against the inside of your thigh that most definitely hadn’t been there when you first crawled in his lap.

Oh, Jesus…He’s hard, you realize.

“Please.”

No legal team stands a chance against that. He practically whines as he does what you suggest, begging like an animal who can’t wait to be fed. He may not be the kind of guy to shy away from pursuing something, but he’s also not the kind to take what doesn’t belong to him. If he needs to earn your trust or your permission, he’ll do whatever it takes.

You reward him with a sultry kiss. It’s quick, but it makes your intention clear: Yes. You are saying yes.

Without giving him another chance at initiating anything more, you climb out of his lap and stand on the path that separates the bench from the rocky border of the San Diego bay. The evening breeze is much cooler now and actually coaxes some goosebumps into crawling over your arm.

He lingers in his seat, legs now spread wide to ease some of the discomfort between his thighs. You’ve never seen him in such a messy state. His clothes are all ruffled. The unknotted bowtie around his neck is lopsided and threatening to slide out from beneath his collar. The hair on the top of his head is now completely unkempt with a handful of strands dangling over his forehead. And, with the combination of hooded eyes and slick, swollen lips, he looks like the kind of raunchy wedding date people have wet dreams about.

As much as you want to stand there and appreciate the view, the impatient little creature tugging at your gut has other, less restrained plans.

“With all due respect, Lieutenant,” you say as you straighten the fabric hugging your torso, “I don’t have all night.”

A crooked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “10-4.”

Making no attempt to fix any part of the mess that is his visage, Bradley stands up and grabs your hand to lead you back to the parking lot. None of this is what you expected when you agreed to be his plus one, but man are you glad you said yes. Whatever lies in store for the remainder of the night is a gift you just can’t wait to unwrap.

#Wow wow wow #This one sure is something #I think I had more fun writing this than most of my other reader inserts #Nothing beats a good friends to lovers story #Also should I write a follow up? I'm pretty tempted ngl #Reader Insert #Bradley Bradshaw X Reader #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw X Reader #Miles Teller X Reader #Top Gun Imagines #Top Gun Reader Insert #My fic #Rooster Bradshaw X Reader #GN!Reader

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ceiling-karasu · 3 months

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Update on the future AUs I'm writing. Since I am only a few chapters away from finishing Lily Bell in the Thorn Thicket, I was thinking this was the right time.

When I started, I expected maybe three people to read Lily Bell in the Thorn Thicket, so I am glad other people have been enjoying it!

AU Based on Episode 32: The way it ended still angers me.

The next story will focus on Geumsaegi after the cliffhanger in Episode 32. Season two does mention that while Dr. Huinjogjebi is in charge, Commander Jogjebi's brother is gathering a lot of support to get rid of him and take over the army himself, so this is a viable plotline close to canon I would think. Plus Dr. Huinjogjebi seems like he would be fun to write.

I want to have a civil war power struggle within many groups of the surviving weasel army (the rebels of mount rock, wolfspider cave, surviving Tokgasi, Mulmangcho, ect), with Geumsaegi being one of the prizes. As the former guard commander/special envoy/special aide, he knows a massive amount of the old codes, intel, supply cache locations, and other information, so anyone who convinces him to join gets most of the power. He can use the disorder to his advantage.

I have not seen the supposed episodes 33 and 34, nor have I seen the rumored AU stories about them from people who claimed they did see it. However, as I have said in a previous post long ago, this series tended to end episodes on cliffhangers showing the worst possible situation, only to fix them in favor of Flower Hill in the first few minutes of the next episode. So, I plan to go that route in the style of the show.

I'll finish this one before getting to any others.

White Ermine Nurse AU: Treading into OCs, but still using canon characters and ideas

This would be a shorter story. A white ermine nurse (the same one that briefly appeared in the current story? Who knows? Certainly not me yet) from Flower Hill visiting relatives outside of Flower Hill gets conscripted by the weasel army because they are a nurse, and she has to play along. She recognizes Geumsaegi years later, and tries to covertly ask for help, but comes off like the coroner/medical examiner lady in MIB, leading everyone to think she has romantic feelings for Geumsaegi when she does not, and neither does he. Eventually she witnesses the downfall of the weasel army.

I still have to think of a name, but it will probably follow Flower Hill naming conventions so Snowy = Nunsong or Frost =Seoli. The nurses and female mice in the show are forced to act flirtatiously to the males, so having a nurse who gets the reputation as an ice queen seems kind of fun.

Hyena Army AU: Still treading into OCs, and the Hedgehog Waitress and Rabbit Guide will be instrumental along with Geumsaegi and the Commanders in Cherry Valley

Another short story, The Wolf Unit brings in a unit of Hyenas to help crush Flower Hill. These hyenas are huge, larger than wolves, and extremely ferocious. The hyena village has actually been very close friends with Flower Hill for generations, but the weasel army has taken their families hostage to force them to fight for them, and were promised they would not have to fight their traditional allies. Commander Seungnyangi doesn't know that.

They aren't sure if they should honor historical edicts and forgo their families by destroying the weasel army, or try and fight Flower Hill and break the pacts. Maybe this includes an alternate episode 32 AU, where one of the hyenas working as a prison warden/interrogator is given the unconscious trio and has to make the final decision.

The concept of a flag flown upside down is a distress signal will be an important plot line or maybe even a joke.

Honestly I could put the white ermine nurse and the hyena unit into the Geumsaegi focused AU as some kind of intertwining story, but I don't know yet. It could be great for the plot, but I also feel like I would prefer keeping close to canon on that one.

The Kidnapped Research Scientists AU: This one will require a lot of work into studying Research Scientists and connecting it with what the Weasel Army would want exactly.

I've mentioned this one in another post. A group of scientists and young civilians from Flower Hill get kidnapped while everyone is distracted with Fowl Village, and get slowly convinced to work for the Weasel Army with the idea that they aren't directly hurting Flower Hill, and their work will also help Flower Hill in the long run. Half serious, half humor.

There is a plotline in the beach episode where the Weasel Army discusses kidnapping other scientists, so that can work with canon as well. RIP the disguise artist, but sabotage does not work when a random like Mulmangcho can casually create a better disguise than what you provide.

I feel like the famous Skippy's List might show up here, although with it being used by the hostages to undermine the Weasel Army from within. I'm just going to have some fun with it until I get Geumsaegi into the mix as coming for an inspection, along with interactions of other canon characters from both sides.

Cage of Eden AU: The Fun One

Years ago I really liked an old story called Cage of Eden, so I was thrilled that they recently produced an ending. I don't think one needs to actually read that series to read the AU though.

Probably going to be a mix of a lot of canon characters and OC characters here. Honestly I kind of want an excuse to write more Dr. Huinjogjebi, because again, he seems like he would be fun to work with and write about. Also the sturgeons.

A group of Weasel Army and a group of Flower Hill go to peace talks in a third, neutral, country, and go back on a jumbo jet filled with supposed civilians. Something mysterious happens, and the plane crashes on a suspiciously large island and everyone gets separated. Mystery animals are still non sentient on the island.

Except instead of the ending to Cage of Eden, more like The Forest where the plane was deliberately brought down, but not like the ending of The Forest either. I don't like mixing alien god time travel magic relic stuff into other fandoms that don't have it, but there are several plausible ways in the Squirrel and Hedgehog universe to solve the ending and escape.

Ideas being:

the Weasel Army smuggled a group of solar powered Sturgeon robots onboard, which is not hard since they can fold up like briefcases in the show

The Weasel Army also smuggled weapons bio-coded to weasels and mice onto the plane

Flower Hill squirrel soldier who went to a foreign university accidentally legally married a mouse during a drama club performance, but they both got drafted when they went back to Flower Hill to explain the situation and have yet to explain. This is revealed by a former classmate who also happens to be there.

Someone, possibly Bamsaegi, is scouting the area around the plane crash using a hanglider, only to get caught up in a strange wind that whips him all the way to the residential area, where he is injured enough to have to stay and investigate all the skeletons and apparent failed evacuations.

Neither Flower Hill nor the Weasel Army are going to put up with Nishikiori's antics. I'm seeing him as a White-Naped crane.

Going off of the discussion on the international community, and laws discussed in 'Pangulggot Reports,' I can come to the idea that medics are not supposed to fight the enemy unless the enemy is non sentient and/or actively trying to kill them. Using this logic, the weasel army captures a Flower Hill field medic/surgeon with the idea that medics are extremely important to have in such a situation, who goes with them since there are creatures in the woods, they can't find anyone from their squad, and the weasel's weapons are bio-coded, and they can also glean important information. The medic become the team dad/mom/voice of reason while shenanigans happen.

Instead of the Mina plotline, a third party spy group disguises themselves as members of Flower Hill. Their intentions are mysterious, even to me because I have not yet decided if they are hostile or not.

Mainly going to follow the plot of Cage of Eden, I think, but undergone with more soldiers and survivalists than high school kids.

Mistaken Identity Hedgehog AU: The one Least Likely to be written at all, since there would be few if any canon characters

A hedgehog living in some kind of integrating Ainu style village in another small country near Flower Hill. Traditionally they speak in a kind of mountain dialect/mountain language that is shared within a few villages, but the new village leader forbids it and wants everyone to speak the common tongue. Maybe the hedgehog does not have a given name other than the identifier Goseumdochi yet since children are raised communally. Apparently, not allowing girls to have given names was actually a thing in some Korean and Chinese cultures.

Their area gets destroyed in the crossfire between Flower Hill and the Weasel Army, and when the village tries to escape, Flower Hill mistakes them for a group trying to escape conscription, and since they cannot give names, and are forced into the army to train. Eventually, after several years, and most of that village dying. the lone hedgehog breaks down and says some things at a gathering. A nearby military investigator recognizes a faint accent and starts a military investigation, whereupon they realize they have no records of these hedgehogs. And if the story is true, that's an international incident where they are at fault, so they send them to some allied islands/coastal country to hold them while they figure it out.

I was reading the plot of Barakamon (came across my dash) and remembering the old series Useless Ponko while thinking of this, so peaceful village life, except instead of calligraphy it will be the hedgehog learning that not everything has to be bad, and they are not some sort of representation of the child from Omelas. Except these islanders speak a similar dialect/language to the mountain people, so they start learning that to fit in.

Planning some romance and eventual marriage with the locals, and harassing officials from the mainland who want everyone to have special IDs but don't even speak the local language. So maybe a bit of a dark story going into humor later on.

Unfortunately, some other people have posted ideas about suspected spies being arrested, as well as the idea of 'mountain languages' that military investigators do not like, so I may have to alter or drop that idea.

However, this idea for a plot originally came from when I watched the new Murder on the Orient Express and then played TMOSTH right after. It consisted of a drunk Flower Hill hedgehog despairing over being accidentally conscripted years ago to the bartender, and the story making it back to everyone on the train, becoming a key part of the investigation. Was not sure why a group of Flower Hill soldiers are on this train.

In this version, I had two ideas. She was either a laboratory scientist, and willingly sneaks off with a group of soldiers from the weasel army who would stand to gain a life changing amount of reward money for acquiring a scientist like that, or joins an idol/performance group/the private investigator Poirot character of some kind where they have to wear a disguise. Adventures happen while avoiding secret scouts and investigative agents from Flower Hill looking for deserters and weasel army looking for soldiers.

Random Short Stories Collection: Small stories, shorter than the ermine and hyenas

I have some one shot ideas. Very short stories, maybe rewrites of other chapters where things go differently but not enough to change the plot.

Whatever loose ends I miss in Lily Bell in the Thorn Thicket, because wow do I have quite a bit to clean up

Earlier or different rescue in Lily Bell in the Thorn Thicket

More fluff scenes

Actual Scooby-Doo-esque shenanigans with Commander Jogjebi in the background

A tufted ground squirrel scientist visits Flower Hill with a hyena bodyguard. Turns out the roles are the opposite

'Nope' parody, but I don't know if I want it to be a Weasel Army weapon or not

Jinro the Jindo dog is probably going to drift in and out of stories, making delicious food and then get everyone drunk on his special soju so he can escape being conscripted as a cook.

Names for non canon characters:

I'm just having fun with these AUs. I'll think up some names as I go along, although I will probably have to hunt down other AUs and old fanfictions (there's years old stories on here including Hanahaki fics) from across the internet to look for OC names, because I don't want to use a name someone else has already used. Unless it fits really really well and is generic enough.

Really kind of liking the idea of naming characters after trees and flowers, but I'll have to rewatch the show again to make sure I fully understand Flower Hill naming conventions. Also I think I love the name Nunsong (or Nunsongi) from a visual perspective.

#squirrel and hedgehog #lily bell in the thorn thicket #I got a taste of writing and decided I liked it #I think it's getting out of hand though I may need to slow down #yeah the other AUs after the episode 32 AU are going to be pretty self indulgent but still close to canon as I can make it #except maybe the mistaken identity AU #I like writing close to canon it is fun for some reason #sah #screaming into the void #cage of eden #no sir no relic magic here just the improbable science that fascinates and annoys Dr. Huiniogiebi #love me some sturgeons I want to study them #If an idea comes from a book or movie I will mention it in the comments of the chapter #otherwise it is mostly stuff I just think up at random and see if I can integrate #wow this is long sorry about that

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