#rooster ff

[starkleila]

Anxiety

 Materialist

Summary: You have an anxiety attack and rooster helps you

Warnings: anxiety attack . 

Notes:

On A03 I got requested this 'If you're taking requests, I'd love it if you could do like a hurt/comfort fic with Rooster helping the reader when they have an anxiety attack in the plane?! It's oddly specific but I need it honestly! I loved the part where Mav says you remind him of Goose and Himself, so if you could include some of that, it'd be FIREEEE!’

Rooster x reader romantic up to interpretation, hangman x reader if you squint in a couple of places

could be considered a divergent universe follow up to bird strike 

Sorry for the grammatical errors. I’m new at writing so feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading. do not translate or appropriate my work

Comments and kudos are highly appreciated :)

words: 1700

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Call sign: Avenger; f-pronoun-no-physical-description!reader

After the bird strike maverick assigned you rooster to train together to test if you were ready to go back to fly after the incident of the bird strike the day before. He didn’t tell you that, he told you to test your new plane instead and assigned you a wingman. hangman was mad that rooster was selected instead of him to train with you as you recovered but maverick to make him shut up put him as team leader for the trial the other pilots were doing. You were glad your oldest and dearest friend was going to team up with you. You hadn’t teamed up in a long time.

You hugged for goodbye hangman and then phoenix as you went with rooster to your new plane with the Y/N ‘Avenger’ Y/L/N newly written on it. You looked at it, your fingertips passing on the new paint as your mind traveled to the day before when you almost died because of a bird strike making everyone you love including your best friend and your godfather get scared

‘you good? Mav said you should take a couple of days of, you were in the hospital just yesterday’ rooster asks you touching your shoulder . you closed your eyes momentarily before speaking

‘No I’m good’ you tell him ‘let’s test this thing Roo!’

You both got on your planes and took off

As soon as you were up you started feeling claustrophobic, and tense. You never felt like that in a plane, it was the only situation where you never got an anxiety attack that instead happened other times on land. usually only jake, Bradley or natasha could calm you, and apart from uncle maverick and uncle ice where the only ones to know about it

You started holding the control stick a bit too tights as you breath heavily

‘Ave you are not following the root’ rooster’s voice filled the radio as he noticed you were not following the path.

You could not reply, you just wanted to be out of there as your vison became with a black frame and you started heavily breathing

‘Avenger do you copy?’ he repeated. He flew next to you looking at your cockpit and finding you frozen

‘y/n? do you hear me?’ he repeated looking at you

‘Roo I-, I’ can’t breath.’ You panted  ‘It’s too small. the cockpit its too small’ you repeated as you tried to calm yourself

‘What you are talking about? this plane is exactly as yours- oh’ he said realizing what was happening

‘Breath y/n breath it’s okay. I’m here. listen to my voice is just like any other plane. you got it. you got it’ he started saying voice calm and sooting ‘focus on your breathing and my voice’.

You tried following his instructions closing your eyes momentarily

‘Do you remember that story that mav told us when we where kids? The one where he was scared and iceman needed him as they were being chased. and then he thought of the two of us playing hide and seek with him at my house and he got back control? Now I want you to do the same y/n’ rooster kept his voice soothing, hiding his worry

You tried you really tried as your hands still trembled giving you problems to hold the plane on the right root

‘think of good things and breath. It’s a plane like any other plane you flew and you are the best pilot I know. you got this’

You followed his lead thinking about how mav made you spin in the air when you were a child as you giggled before falling back in his hold, how you went around on ice’s shoulders and stole his aviators glasses putting them on even if they were too big for you; the late nights watching Netflix with Bradley and laughing your lungs out eating pizza together; that one time you and phoenix were playing tag and it escalated so much that you broke her shirt; and the times you and hangman danced after you beat him at pool.

You took back control as your breathing became normal and your hands stopped shaking stabilizing the plane

‘Talk to me Avenger’ rooster said trying to hide his worry

‘I’m okay now. I’m okay’ you repeated calm, swallowing hard

‘Do you want to go back to base?’ he asked worried

‘No let’s test this plane’ you repeated with more confidence

‘Are you sure?’

‘Try to catch me Bradshaw!’ you told him before sprinting away

You two tested all the hard flying moves, finding the plane in perfect conditions and your flying skills good as always, you then soon were back on the ground. You opened the cockpit and removed your helmet when rooster was already down the stairs of your plane

‘Hey are you okay?’ he asked, trying to hide his worry. He had still not recovered from the scare of the day before when because of the bird strike your plane crashed and as the ejection was not working you had almost died

‘everything fine’ you told him getting out of the plane ‘I was just a fool’ you told him shaking your head. No matter how many times people had told you having anxiety attacks was nothing to be ashamed of, you still had that feeling sometimes.

‘Hey you are not a fool its normal to have some anxiety after you crashed. that is why we trained today.’ He reassured you walking next to you

‘You mean after mav did not believe I could go back to train with the others and assigned you as my babysitter’ you said with more bitterness than intended

‘You know is not like that, it’s the standard procedure’ he repeated trying to make you think as he touched our arm soothingly. You loosened up

‘What if I’m never the same again?’ you whispered fidgeting with your helmet ‘what makes me a good pilot is flying ice cold like uncle ice and doing the unthinkable like uncle mav. Today I panicked. I don’t panic up there. I can’t panic up there. It could be fatal for me and for my wingman, for jake, for you’  you say voice trembling

‘hey hey hey. Nothing of that’ he tells you putting both hands on your shoulders and looking at you.

‘even only today at training after the anxiety episode You are still the best pilot I know. you took control back and piloted like always. So don’t be hard on yourself okay?’ he tells you giving you a rare smile

‘Thank you for what you did Roo’ you reply before hugging him, he hugs you back tightly and holds you for a few moments

‘Of course you are the only family I’ve got Ave’ he tells you, then he kisses your forehead before letting you go

‘Not the only one’ you tell him laughing ‘ mav is basically a dad for both of us’ you smirk, he rolls his eyes at the mention of your honorary uncle and basically his dad

‘Don’t go there’ he warns you playfully. For weeks you have been trying to make them have peace, you and rooster even fought about it but then made peace when he knocked on your door with your favorite take out food to watch a movie together, and you agreed to let them be and not be involved in their quarrel

‘okay’ you reply, he places his arm around your shoulder one more time bringing you close

‘You know the other day mav told me we remind him of himself and goose’ you say smiling as you two walk shoulders brushing

‘You realize my dad died right’

‘I’m sorry’ you reply mortified

‘No worries, I know what he meant, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you yesterday. Now I understand why mav never recovered’ he says eyes low. He had never been so scared. You had almost died because of a bird strike and he could do nothing about it, he almost lost his best friend. It had never happened before, and he barely slept that night too shaken by the events

‘I’m here Roo you are not getting rid of me anytime soon’ you tell him kissing his cheek as you walk you find Mav back in class

‘avenger, rooster’ he greets you as he is taking his papers

‘the others?’ you ask him looking for hangman and phoenix ‘mav’ rooster says

‘they are already at lunch waiting for you’ mav replies smiling, rooster remains stiff

‘how did it go?’ mav asks trying to hide his sadness at rooster coldness

‘I’ll let you two talk’ rooster replies ‘saving you a seat’ he tells you before squeezing your arm and leaving

‘I’m not going to lie, I panicked but them went okay’ you admit to your honorary uncle

‘it’s normal after what happened yesterday. It’s incredible that you already took control back that soon.’ He says kindly patting your shoulder proudly

‘rooster was really helpful. i don’t know what I would have done without him’ you admit smiling thinking about your best friend saving you

‘You know you two remind me of me and goose’ maverick replies smiling but sad, he misses his best friend everyday for 30 years, you squeeze back his arm. To make him smile you say

‘you better not say that to hangman’ you warn him, Jake is very jealous of yours and rooster’s bond

‘ I told him already that you remind me of myself and ice’ maverick replies smirking and shaking his head

‘that’s better. wait who is who’ you ask him raising an eyebrow and laughing. The competition was clearly there as well the snarky comments and mutual affection and respect

‘that is for you two to figure it out’ he adds patting your back ‘go to lunch now kiddo’ he says

‘okay see you there mav’ you reply and kiss his cheek before leaving and running to the cafeteria to meet with your friends

Top Gun materialist

Being bff with Rooster

© Starkleila 2022

[callsign-marlie]

Prologue. Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI. Part VII. Part VIII. Part IX. Part X. Story Content Warning: Rate M for mature content (minors DNI!!!) including but not limited to: mentions of drug use/smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit sexual scenarios, angst that will make your head spin and more to add a/n: time to introduce the dagger squad :) part 3 is almost complete, i'll probably finish it up tomorrow and will edit it later on monday to post monday night. every 4 days seems to be a good pace moving forward for me, so hopefully we can stick with that! thank you for loving this so much <3 x marlie Table of Contents

Part II: "Another Fine Navy Day!"

The Hard Deck was her job and Misha was thankful everyday for a boss like Penny Benjamin. With her house arrest and community service done, the admiral’s daughter had gone stir crazy sitting in her childhood bedroom surrounded by puffs of pink and old teddies on her bed with absolutely zero stimulation. She needed a big girl job to fund a renovation and The Hard Deck was just the job she was looking for. 

Penny was always kind to the aviators that frequented her establishment and was honored to have a veteran of such prestige on her staff. No matter how troubled Misha was, Penny took it upon herself to bring the misunderstood woman under her guidance, making every attempt to mend the tear in her wings. She even went so far as to give Moose a little badge to put on his service animal vest and got a custom made Hard Deck handkerchief for him to wear while Misha was on shift. After all, he was just as much as part of the staff as Misha.

“Now bourbon is surprisingly tricky,” Penny muttered, watching Misha’s unsteady pour. “Too much and the patron will hate you. Too little and the patron will hate you.”

“Is there a way to know what’s enough?” Misha questioned, her gaze flickering to the dribble of Maker’s Mark left on the bar. Crap. “There’s gotta be a universal measurement or something right?”

“Nah, you just have to eyeball it. ‘Comes with time, sweet pea, you’ll figure it out.” Penny flicked her bar towel under the glass to clean the single golden drop and took a sip of the poured liquid. Her lips peeled to an approving smirk, nodding her head. “Better. Now garnish that baby with some bitters, an orange peel and a cherry and you’re all done.”

Misha did as she was told and slid the sweating glass across the table to the other end of the bar, a gentle tink resounding as it tapped into the set of glasses down at the other end. Bullseye. At least her aim wasn’t shit.

“Penny, you think I’m ready for this? I know I’ve only been barbacking and observing, but do you really think I can tend tonight with you?”

“You don’t think you’re ready?” Penny wondered incredulously, an elbow resting on the resined cherry wood. “Honey, you’ve been here for six months now. I think that’s plenty of observation time. You’ve learned everything I have to teach you. Now’s the time to perfect it in practice! Have a little confidence in yourself! Besides, it’s mostly gonna be the aviators and regulars tonight: you know their blood is made of Bud. You’ll probably be pulling drafts most of the night anyway.”

A frown grew across Misha's lips. The aviators. Most likely the newest Top Gun class included. Every eight weeks, a new set of students strode through those doors to let off steam after their grueling flights and endless lectures. God, what Misha would give to be back in that part of her life. To feel the weight of the world flip her stomach upside down, the freedom of nothing but blue, blue skies. The camaraderie, the scent of jet fuel, the sense of family.  

She was envious.

Now, she needed to be content with her new home on the ground behind this big, old bar in the middle of Fightertown. So close, yet so far, stuck in her childhood home. Stifled. Trapped in that upstairs bedroom with no way out like Rapunzel in her gilded tower. 

But times were finally changing. This mission was an opportunity: she had a chance at freedom. A chance to make a change and turn her whole life around. She just had to let down her hair and wait for prince charming to make the steep climb up her lofty tower. All she had to do was not fuck it up.

Easier said than done.

Penny flipped the bar’s ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’ and it was time to sit and wait. The Padres game was playing muted on the big screen with the Jukebox warming up in a tired whir to life. Misha grabbed a few tokens from behind the bar and slotted them, throwing on anything that sounded nostalgic. The old box hadn’t been updated since ‘92, so modern music was never an option. It simply wouldn’t have fit in the Hard Deck, anyway. This place was generational; an icon. Adding rap and sugarplum pop to the mix would just curdle against the wallpaper and the wooden interior.

Moose was already at post in his bed near the entrance of the swinging bar door keeping his ever steady eye on Misha. No one even knew he was there. Misha crouched down to give him a kiss on the head before it was time to serve the first group of customers.

The crowd kicked up by the time the sun set and the ship was sailing smoothly. Penny and Misha got into the swing of things, passing tabs back and forth and sliding beers across to their assigned patrons. Misha was definitely more comfortable on beer duty with Penny taking over the hard liquor, but found herself pouring a few Old Fashions for some of the regular crowd. Their praise of her pour made her preen. 

The door swung open heavily, bouncing off the side of the dented wooden frame at a mess of uniformed pilots making their way down the stairs. They immediately went towards an unoccupied pool table and were joining in for games of darts while a few stragglers moved towards the bar.

Misha’s throat dried as she approached the first khaki-clad group, swinging her towel over her shoulder. “What’cha havin’ fellas?”

A wistful-looking gentleman and a taller, mustachioed guy moved forward with billion watt smiles on both of them. “Hey, can we grab two buds please?” The shorter of the two was rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Misha couldn’t help but return their smiles. “Comin’ right up!”

She popped the tabs on two brews and slid them down the way to the waiting pilots who caught them just as they slowed. The taller one let out an impressed whistle, tapping his glass against his partner’s. “Daaaaamn, that was smooth! You’ve gotta be a pro, but I can’t say I’ve seen you here before. What’s your name, madam bartender? Oh, this is gonna be open by the way.” The pilot dropped his card on the counter and sent her a wink. She sent a coy smile back while she racked it into the file tray. “Thanks, it took a bit of practice, ya know? And it’s Misha. What do they call you?”

“Name’s Payback, and this here is my WSO, Fanboy.” The other man raised his glass to her and sent a over wink himself. They’re gonna need to be reigned in if they keep it up. Misha could just hear the bar bell ringing in the future. “Well, nice to meet you guys. If you need anything, you know where to find me. Tab’s open, have fun out there, just not too much fun.” 

Penny was at the end of the bar eying her underling’s interaction with a grin on her face. Misha looked at her boss, gave a ‘what?’ hand gesture, and Penny strode her way over. She slung an arm around her shoulders, nodding her head to the direction of the now overflowing pool table. “Those two graduated two years ago. I’m just wondering what the hell they’re doing back in Fightertown.”

Two years ago?

Misha’s memory brought her back to that manila envelope her father had given her and the 9 faces that were involved. She remembered those two now. Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia and Reuban ‘Payback’ Fitch. So if they were here…

“Ahhhh Penny, my favorite MILF, long time no see babe. Grab me a Shocktop will you?”

The two women turned around to find sparkling white teeth, perfectly groomed blonde hair over gemstone green eyes. His elbows were propped on the top of the bar, fiddling with the Annapolis ring on his finger. His vision bounced between the two as his smile slowly flattened. “Wh- No fucking way.”

Penny observed her bartender to gauge her reaction. Misha wiped her hands on her bar cloth nervously, but slowly looked up to meet his eyes. There he was, her stupid, cocky, egotistical wingman from so long ago.

Misha’s grin broke free. “Hey, partner.”

His disbelief was comforting. A hand ran down the front of his face as he propelled himself to the side entrance of the bar. Misha couldn’t help her feet as she ran past a snoozing Moose and hopped the sliding bar door to leap into his arms. His biceps enveloped her and everything was warm. It smelled of pressed starch and that same, expensive Givenchy cologne he always wore. There was no doubt in her mind. It was him. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. In the flesh.

He pulled away from her for just a moment, taking in every mark and pucker on her face before tucking her back under his chin. His fingers parted through her dark hair and he cupped her face in his hands. “The hair is definitely new, I almost didn’t recognize you! What happened to my Barbie girl?!”

She scrunched her nose at him and put a stiff shove to his chest, laughing the whole way. “Yeah well, some of us have to change a bit, Ken, even you! Goddamn you’re even more ripped than the last time I saw you!”

Hangman struck a pose, pressing his hands together to puff out his pectorals. “Listen, when you’re as good as me, you gotta stay on your A game, Hotshot. You of all people should know that. You had to keep up with me after all, don't you remember?”

Hotshot. No one had called her her callsign for over three years. Not a soul. A spark attempted to light in the pits of her chest, but it was just too weak and snuffed out quickly. A shiver down her spine, replacing the moment of warmth. Misha attempted to bring her head back to the conversation. “Yes, I remember, but I never had to keep up with you. You had to keep up with me. But make that chest any bigger, Jake, they’re gonna start calling you Milkman!”

Jake’s vivacious laugh, nearly doubled him backwards, his arms around his waist. “Now that’s a good one, sweetheart! Definitely suits me more original than Bagman.” He did his best to wipe the faux tears from his eyes, his glare going icy. “After all, milk always turns to cream, and your boy knows how to churn, baby.”

A scowl and a smack on his bicep was all Misha could do to stop him from spying the flush on her face at his words. She was no prude, but Hangman always seemed to trigger her immediate embarrassment. “Can it, Seresin. Some hot babe out there’s gonna curdle your ass one day and you’ll be toast.”

The conversation they shared was light. He was still the coy, nauseating sonofabitch from all those years ago, but something was definitely aged about him. He was like a fine wine: still sweet under the tongue, but a bit more bold as well. Naturally as the crowd picked up, Misha needed to part ways to return to Penny to help her fend off the rascals.

“It’s been nice, Kaz. I’ll see you again soon. That’s a promise.” Jake stuck out his pinky finger. Misha returned her own painted digit, crossed them, and kissed her thumb. Jake returned the sentiment. Nothing was stronger than a pinky promise. 

“No doubt. Take it easy, Hangman.”

Misha didn’t see the held breath that left his chest when she turned away.

—

More familiar faces from Misha’s classified folder made their way into the bar throughout the night. Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado was scamming plebeians at darts, Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd was busy observing the billiards table while munching on peanuts (he caught her gaze a few times and looked away shyly every time), and even her TOPGUN crewmate Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. She lost all of her signature composure at the sight of her old friend. “MISHA? Who the hell is this alternative babe?!” “Phee-hee-heeeeniiieeee~” Misha had sung, throwing the shorter woman into her arms. The hug they shared was the most joyful thing she had experienced in her last four years. 

Nearly all of the high scorers from Misha’s files were there and ready to rumble. She could smell the testosterone from across the bar as Hangman threw jab after jab, icy glare after icy glare, at each of his new crewmates. ‘So, which one of y’all have the guts to follow me?’ 

Establishing dominance. Fearmongering. Complete and utter domination. The Vigilantes had taught him well. But this side of Hangman was not something that Misha was familiar with. Her former wingman was never this brash from what she remembered. She didn’t recall the cold steel in his voice, the challenging demeanor, the loose posture of his shoulders when people upturned their noses to him. Maybe the wine she presumed he was aging like was more on the stale side than she had thought.

Hangman, Phoenix and Coyote were the most notable from her data she’s researched so far, but there was one more of the Big 7 that was still missing.

“Well, I’ll be damned. A chicken.” Coyote elbowed Hangman’s side. Blue eyes turned to the entrance, his his hands perched on his pool cue. “Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.”

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, in all of his glory; neatly trimmed mustache and that same proud, ridiculous strut he always had, strut into the room, pulling his aviators down the bridge of his nose.

Misha was going to throw up. 

She ducked herself behind the bar out of sight to catch her breath. There was a vacuum in the room sucking out all of the oxygen. Moose had padded over to boop her arm with his nose, attempting to crawl under her chest. She gladly opened her lap for him to sit and put her hands through his fur to soothe her trembling fingers. Seeing all of her colleagues together was a trip down memory lane she wasn't quite ready to handle just yet, apparently. She better get over it fast. She had two days to prepare for their first mission briefing. 

Penny bent down to her level, putting a hand on her back and rubbing lightly. “You good, sweetie?”

“I need a smoke, I’m taking fifteen” Misha groaned out, staying ducked under the crowd until she was clear out of the stingy bar and in the crisp air. Moose pawed at the sand behind her, keeping his eyes trained on his charge like a shadow.

The fall was bitter on the beach side and the sting of the ocean air stabbed pins into her arms. A familiar buzz stung between her ears. She smacked the side of her head as if she was tuning an old radio. Not now.

Fuck off, she muttered to herself, clicking off her hearing aids for a few moments of silence. The waves moved soundlessly. Everything was still other than the wind in her hair. She could almost imagine the ‘whoosh’ past her ears. Moose was positioned directly next to her, his tongue lolling to the side like usual. Her fingers tickled beneath his vest. Just a girl and her pup. No sounds. No worries. 

"We're ok, Moosey," she smiled out, giving her shepherd a kiss. He returned it on the side of her cheek. "Yes, I know. We can do this."

It was peaceful once again, but not for long.

Ten minutes of blissful silence passed when she felt the thud through the cold sand. With a start, she spun to her feet  before she had even seen the figure next to her. Misha quickly flicked her aids back on, Moose standing at attention beside her while her eyes and ears readjusted to the light and sounds output by the Hard Deck. A quick ‘blip’ let her know they were activated and the crashing of the waves and a piano with rowdy voices brought her back to reality. The leather jacket-clad figure with the back of his head in the sand couldn’t have gotten here at a more inopportune time.

“... Uncle Pete?”

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