#rooster bradshaw headcanon

[familyvideostevie]

📸 CANDID: for who else other than rooster!! lemme get whatever's in that big beautiful brain of yours about the loml <3

hi baby!!!!!!!! i love u sm

headcanon about rooster:

i have thought about this a LOT and i bet there are some people who will disagree with me but i think that rooster actually isn't a huge PDA guy. he's private, he likes to love on you in private, he thinks it's respectful to not be all over you in public. so when you're out he def is like, hand on your back or being near you, arm around your shoulder, a kiss to your temple or cheek, but i don't think he's handsy or showy or anything like that. it's clear enough from his energy that you two are together and he's always attuned to you if you do need him to be close for some reason. it does mean that if you rile him up he is taking you home ASAP <3

join the celebration!

[dearsnow]

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”

[outalongtheedges]

Rooster/Maverick: I’m the way I am because my dad died when I was young.

Hangman/Iceman: I’m the way I am because my dad didn’t die when I was young.

Masterlist

[military-newsboys]

Ice: Come on, I want to show you something.

*Turns and walks away*

Mav: Nice.

Ice: That’s not it, but thank you.

[montessori-grad]

As a fandom we do not utilize the fact Glen Powell is Polish enough since we’ve collectively decided that Ice is Polish. Here are my headcanons.

-Ice and Jake speaking Polish so they can talk shit about other people. Mostly Mav who tried to learn Polish when he and Ice started dating but failed.

-When Jake misses his family, (Glen says that he has good parents so I’m going to give him good parents.) Ice makes him come over for dinner where he makes traditional food.

-Or an alternative to the first is; while Jake was first crushing on Bradley he’d talk to his sister in Polish but Bradley knew what he was saying since Ice taught him. Bradley didn’t tell him and Jake found out two months into their relationship because Ice told him to do something in Polish and Bradley had to pick if he was more scared of an angry Jake or an angry Ice. (Ice is obviously a scarier option.)

-Jake is really into Eurovision and was absolutely livid when Jan wasn’t picked. (Because so was I.)

-Jake can handle his alcohol.

-He’s a terrible cook because the majority of Polish men do not cook.

-He played soccer as a kid and didn’t do any real work during the World Cup because Poland made it farther than usual and he was too invested.

-He loves pickles so much but forces Bradley to buy the expensive ones. (If you’re a pickle fan in America, I absolutely recommend Bubbies fyi.)

-He watched the movie Fanfik on Netflix and cried. (Super good, cheesy movie about a trans Polish teen and his partner. 10/10 I recommend.)

-Carol was also Polish so Bradley has some traditions he keeps going from her that Jake was really happy to participate in.

[thegunistop]

does this mean anything to you

[luxu1230]

In which everyone learns Hangman is much more like Maverick than they thought trauma responses too.

So one day after the suicide mission and the daggers are now a permanent squadron due to Ice Mav decides to do a plane swap so the single seaters get the opportunity to feel what it's like to have someone behind them.

However Hangman refuses to, even going as far to sit on the floor. The others make fun of him (except Coyote and Mav) but Mav is the first to realise how pale and short of breath Hangman seems to be and is even sure he sees him trembling slightly.

So to get him out he tells Hangman how he needs him to drop off some paperwork to his husband and how he can stay with Ice Incase he needs any help.

It isn't until he ran out the door the others realised something was truly wrong. It's not until later that Coyote tell them why.

(It took Hangman nearly two minutes in Ice office before he broke down and Ice realises that this kid acts like Maverick when he was younger and his heart breaks when he realises that this comes from a trauma shared between them. Though why was this never in his file).

Coyote later explains to them the reason Hangman won't fly with a backseater and it explains the relationship between those two.

It turns out Coyote knew Hangman from before he joined top gun. That it turned out that Coyote's older brother was Hangman's backseater and how a flying exercise turned into the death of one person and the mental trauma of another.

How hangman has sworn off having a backseater and tries to do everything solo.

It leaves everyone in shock and questioning if the rumours about hangman were ever true.

One knew he needed to apologise asap and another knew he was going to keep a tighter eye on hangman.

No one was surprised the next morning when they walked into the base only to see hangman stuck in between Mav and Rooster hugging him with the most confused look on his face.

[romcomxb]

Hc that Jake absolutely wolfs down his dinner like it's his last meal on earth. He absolutely devours it within minutes, whereas Bradley takes his time with it.

Ice probably drilled the 'chew your food 20 times before swallowing' thing into him as a kid and for some reason it stuck.

Bradley has tried to slow Jake down over and over again, but to no avail. So when Jake inevitably gets the hiccups after eating, he gets very pointed looks from Bradley.

[the-ace-with-spades]

Jake secretly finds the mustache and the Hawaiian shirt and vintage jeans hot af, he's just never going to admit it because his own dad also has a mustache and he feels really weirded out about this

And Bradley (slightly less) secretly finds the whole cowboy hat, leather boots, flannel shirts and huge belt buckle getup hot, maybe even the hottest Jake can look

[svld99]

A conversation between Ice and Maverick and rooster based on one I had with my friends today due to the fact I was out of my ADHD medication.

Mav - I have not had my medicine all day and the pharmacy is taking forever to fill it.

Ice- oh no this is not good

Mav- update i finally took my meds and i am no longer spicy

Rooster- You were just extra seasoned

Mav- I was over seasoned

Ice- 🤦🏼

[familyvideostevie]

📸 CANDID: let's make some memories with our friends! send me a character and i'll tell you a headcanon i have for them

rooster <3

— @inkluvs (ivy)

ivy i love u so much for these requests

rooster headcanon: i think this dude is an expert at sleeping anywhere. he's not a super deep sleeper, but if he knows he's able to nap he sure as hell can! in the car, on the floor, in a chair, sitting up, you name it, he can get in a power nap. (if ur there, though, he def relaxes even more and cuddles u so much)

join the celebration!

[theg-unit]

rooster is BIG

Inspired mainly by this amazing fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/53421805/chapters/135212572 by SunMonTue. @tgmsunmontue on tumblr

A fun little fact is that of the original top gun 1986 cast, Goose is actually the tallest. (by only two inches but the tallest nonetheless)

Carol is not necessarily a small woman either, and her male family members are rather broad guys. All this culminates in young Bradley Bradshaw hitting age 15 and shooting up till he's a head taller than his Mavdad at 6ft. Everyone thinks thats the end of it that he'll really look like nick, tall runners build. But then he makes it to 20 and puberty gets a second wind. suddenly Rooster is 6'5" and fills out very solidly to be the tallest one in the family and the biggest. Slider thinks its hilarious that Rooster can now continue his tradition of just picking Pete up and carry him away from whatever Ice has asked him to retrieve him from.

Rooster doesn't utilise his build much. The oversized shirts, his tendency to slouch (to avoid hitting his head mainly) and unflappable demeanour mean that most of the daggers tend to write Brad off as a total teddy bear, and so, when maybe on a night out, they run into some trouble, Rooster narrows his eyes, slowly stretches up to his full height, cracks his neck as he rolls his shoulders that seem to now stretching his shirt... the daggers are suddenly reminded just how BIG Bradley is.

might continue this with a small fic idk. let me know? love you all!!

[mapetitefeedeslilas]

Phoenix and Hangman as Friends-In-Law

AU where Phoenix is with Javy and Jake with Bradley. Phoenix still pretends she doesn't like Jake that much and only deals with him on accounts of being her best friend's husband and her husband's best friend. They are not friends, only friends-in-law.

Both Coyote and Rooster have retired from active duty and have civilian jobs for the Navy, more family friendly 9 to 5s so they can take care of their respective kids.

Phoenix is climbing the ladder Ice-fast, racking up promotions and being highly regarded by everyone.

Hangman is on a very Maverick-like path: he is an unbelievable pilot, but an absolute nuisance that talks back to just about every admiral and pulls insane stunts in the air.

Since they are friends-in-law, Phoenix becomes, in spite of herself, his guardian angel, trying her best to keep him in the cockpit and not have him stripped of his wings. She knows he is a talented pilot, but will never admit it to his face.

Every once in a while Bradley would get a phone call at a weird time of the day and he knows he is in for a forty minute screaming rant from his best friend about YOU KNOW WHAT THAT DAMN HUSBAND OF YOURS DID THIS TIME?!, to which he would patiently listen to whilst starting to bake Phoenix's favourite cake. A couple of hours later he will arrive at the Trace-Machado household where an amused and resigned Coyote is waiting for him and whatever delicious dish he has brought to make sure Phoenix doesn't make a widower out of him.

[military-newsboys]

Ice: First impressions are very important.

Mav: Yet you married me anyway.

[stopthatfool]

i know he snores like a fucking beast. i know it wakes everybody up. and i know he falls asleep in a matter of seconds. so you can't even fall asleep before him. you can't beat him. honk shoooo honk shooo head ass. i want him fucking dead. tucking him in bed all nice and warm as i type this.

[rocky-deberry]

Hangman has an ass tattoo. You can't tell me I'm wrong about this