I Love This So Much! ❤❤❤

I'm putting together a small fandom event, the first ever:

Bruce Banner Appreciation Day!

It'll be on December 18, which is Bruce's canonical birthday in the MCU (but this is open to Bruce fans of all media) and we'll be celebrating with fanworks! Art, writing, GIFs, you name it.

There's really no rules besides creating something Bruce-centric and you can definiely include friends, family, ships, etc. On December 18, post your creation and tag it #bruce banner appreciation day.

💜 Please spread the word! 💚

Reblog if you think it’s okay to platonically say “I Love You” to your friends

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

OC Summaries

OC Summaries:

Spoilers up ahead

Mergil:

Personality type: ISTJ-T

Age: 19

Oldest adoptive son of Boromir.

He is fairly stern and grumpy on the outside, and is difficult to get to know

But the effort's worth it once you do get to know him, because he's an extremely loyal friend, and is really a big softie at heart

He is fiercely and protective of those he loves, and completely unafraid to get physical whenever he needs to

Mardil :

Personality type: INFP-T

Age: 17

Younger adoptive son of Boromir

He is shy, and very gentle, but can be very stubborn, and is extremely loyal

He shows his caring, compassionate side more than most boys, but he can be very stern when he needs to be

Although he's a little more reluctant to get physical, he will if he feels the situation calls for it

Cirion:

Personality type: ESTP-A

Adoptive son of Faramir

Age: 18

He has a reputation as a prankster and comedian, but will never, ever make jokes at someone's expense

He is very loving and affectionate, although it takes a while for him to show that side of himself

Like his cousins, he is very loyal and protective of those he loves, and can get very angry when someone he loves is hurt

Seb Ferguson-Daniels:

Personality type: INTJ-T

Age: 17

Nephew of Ben Daniels, twin brother of Archie

He is pretty artsy, and is good at drawing

He can be a bit goofy at times, but he is more serious than his brother Archie

He also likes country dancing, and is surprisingly good at it.

Archie Ferguson-Daniels

Personality type: ESFP-A

Age: 17

Nephew of Ben Daniels, twin brother of Seb

He is a lot goofier than his brother, and is good at music

He especially likes country music, and will happily play guitar for hours if left to himself

He is clumsier than his brother, but still enjoys country dancing, even if he is forever going the wrong way.

Both he and his brother are very protective of those they love, and are completely unafraid to get physical, even though neither are particularly strong, and will often end up getting the worst of the fight

Macie Ferguson-Daniels:

Sister of Seb and Archie

Age: 16

Personality type: INFP-T

She is very shy, but is slowly growing in confidence

She loves acting and singing, especially musical theatre

She is very supportive of her brothers, and very protective of them, despite being the youngest

She is very gentle, but if you make her angry - beware!

The twins have had to physically hold her back on several occasions

Corporal James Ashwood

He is in Colonel Forster’s regiment, and is a good friend of Denny’s. He is an amiable enough boy, but does not like to dance, and can often be seen playing cards instead. He also likes to play cricket and football, and is one of the best in the regiment. He is also very protective of any young lady he meets, even if he does not particularly like them, and he dislikes Wickham’s smooth ways and happy manners intensely, and does not trust him.

Two years?! I’m in!

Let Me Help (Part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Autistic!Fem!Shy!Reader

Summary: Some friends come to visit

Warnings/tags: Bob is a huge nerd, mention of injury, fluff, mention of forgetting to eat, soft Bradley

***************************************************

There's a knock at the front door.

You're about to get up to go and get it, but then remember your ankle, so you let Bradley go and get it.

"Oh, hey, Bob," he says. "Y/N's in the living-room."

Bob steps in - and stops dead when he sees you.

"I knew it!" he says.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"I knew you were hiding something."

You blush. "Sorry. I shouldn't have hidden it from you."

"It's fine," he says. "But I'm never believing anything you say ever again - about injuries, I mean."

You smile. "I guess I deserve that."

Bob leans forward, lowering his voice. "Uh - I was just wondering - why's Rooster here? And - why does he know your first name?"

"He came to check on me yesterday, my ankle buckled, so he insisted on taking care of me. And - he - asked if we could use first names."

Bob lowers his voice to a whisper. "Phoenix says he likes you."

You stare at him. "He what?"

"He likes you. The others have a bet going to see which of you is going to ask the other out. I - I wasn't really supposed to tell you, but…"

Bradley knocks on the door, and then steps in. "You guys want drinks or anything?"

Oh - yeah, I was supposed to ask Bob that.

"Oh - uh - I'm okay," says Bob. "I already had something to drink."

"How about you, sweetie?" Is it your imagination, or does Bradley's voice go a touch softer when he's speaking to you?

You shake your head. "I'm okay. Thanks."

"Okay. Tell me if you need anything, okay?"

As soon as he's out of the room, Bob turns to you. "Okay - I know I'm not the best at social stuff, but I'm pretty sure he likes you."

"What do you mean?"

Bob stares at you. "Didn't you see the way he looked at you? And the way his voice goes soft when he talks to you?"

You bite your lip. "I thought he was just being nice. Is it - do people know that-" You pause.

"That you like him?" Bob smiles. "Well, Phoenix knows. I don't know about the others, but considering they have a bet going on, I'd say they probably do."

"A bet?" You put your head in your hands. "Oh, wow. How long has this been going on?"

"I have no idea," admits Bob. "I forgot to ask. They all want to come see you, by the way. Make sure you're doing okay."

You stare at him for the second time today. "Really? They actually care?"

Bob nods. "Looks like it."

"I mean, I expected them to be professional, but to actually care…"

A knock at the front door makes both of you jump.

Bob gets up to answer it.

You can hear him and Phoenix talking, but you can't make out what they're saying.

Bob knocks on the living room door. "It's Phoenix," he says, poking his head in. "She wants to see you."

You nod. "Okay."

Phoenix raises her eyebrows when she sees your ankle. "I thought there was something going on!"

You sigh. "Was it obvious?"

"You looked horrified when Mav said we had the afternoon off. And you weren't paying attention at all during training."

"Does that mean it was?"

"Yes." Phoenix sighs. "I wish you'd have told me, C/S. I wouldn't have been so hard on you if I'd known."

She was hard on me? "I deserved it. It was my own fault for not paying attention."

"No." Phoenix steps forward. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a great WSO. Being injured was not your fault."

"I should've looked where I was going."

"It was an accident," says Bob. "You tripped, and fell down the stairs. It happens to everyone."

"You see?" Phoenix says. "Bob doesn't think it's your fault."

Bob sighs. "If anything, it's my fault. I should've dragged her to med bay the minute I found out she'd fallen over."

Phoenix sits down. "So since you're kind of - not walking right now, do you need help with anything?"

"Rooster's taking care of that," says Bob.

Phoenix raises her eyebrows. "Wait, really?"

He nods. "Yeah."

She grins as she turns back to you. "You know he likes you, right?"

You nod. "Bob told me. But - hang on - if he does, then why-"

There's a knock on the living room door.

Bradley pokes his head in. "Oh, hey, Phoenix. I didn't hear you come in."

"Bob let me in," says Phoenix.

Bradley nods. "Y/N, it's getting pretty close to dinner time. Do you want anything to eat?"

You think for a moment. You are getting hungry, but you don't really want to eat in front of other people without offering them something - and you can't really afford that anyway.

So you shake your head. "It's fine."

Bradley raises his eyebrows. "You sure, sweetie? You haven't eaten since this morning."

Your stomach growls, and your face burns. "I - guess I'll have something to eat."

He gives you a reassuring smile. "It's okay. You don't have to eat right now if you don't want to."

"Yeah - I'd rather wait until later - please."

He nods. "That's fine. Tell me if you need anything, okay, honey?"

You nod. "Okay."

Once he's left the room, Phoenix turns sharply to you. "What the - C/S, are you - I swear - how can you not tell he's in love with you?"

You stare at the floor. "I mean - I…"

"You seriously think he calls every girl he's ever met 'honey' and 'sweetie'? He's not Jake!"

"I've only ever seen him at the piano."

"Well, I've seen him flirt with girls. But I've never seen him once call any of them a pet name. Bob?"

Bob, who's been watching Phoenix with fascination, jumps. "Oh! Uh - I don't think so?"

Phoenix turns back to you, a triumphant look on her face. "See?"

"But then why hasn't he made a move?"

"I don't think he knows that you like him," says Bob. "Or maybe he doesn't want to scare you. I don't know, I'm not very good at - this…"

"Bob's right," says Phoenix softly. "I don't think he knows."

You frown. "How? I thought it was so obvious."

***************************************************

Upstairs, Bradley's trying to focus on his phone, but he just can't. He's got too much to think about.

For one thing, he has to decide when to leave your place, and let you get on with your life. It's not that he doesn't like taking care of you. He does, but he knows more than you how weird other people are going to think it is that you two are living together when you're not dating. And he knows you're too shy to tell him when to leave.

It doesn't help that he's fully aware of the bet that the others have going on for which of you is going to ask the other out first, and while he doesn't know whether to be annoyed or amused, he knows who's behind it.

Maverick.

Ever since he got with Penny after the mission, he's had a lot of spare time on his hands - time that Bradley thinks could be better used not trying to get him a girlfriend.

It's not that Bradley doesn't have feelings for you. He does. But he knows how shy you are, and he doesn't want to scare you away. He knows how loud he can be, and that he can sometimes accidentally overpower some of the quieter people in the squad, and he would never want you to force feelings you might not have.

As he turns his attention back to his phone, his eyebrows shoot up when he notices that it's ages past dinner time, and that you still haven't had anything to eat. Jumping up from the bed, he goes downstairs.

***************************************************

You're still confused about the whole thing, despite Phoenix and Bob explaining it multiple times. It's like your brain's just refusing to process what's happening. "So, Bradley likes me, but he doesn't know I like him, and so we're stuck in this loop of will-they-won't-they kind of thing?"

Phoenix is about to respond when there's a knock at the door.

"Sweetheart?" Bradley pokes his head in.

Your heart leaps into your throat. Did he hear?

"Rooster, why don't you come socialise?" asks Phoenix.

He smiles. "You sure I won't be intruding?"

You blush as you realise that Bradley probably wants to talk to Phoenix and Bob too. Why didn't I tell him he could stay?

"It's okay," says Bradley. "I had some stuff I needed to get done. I just want to make sure you get something to eat, sweetie. It's past dinner, and you haven't eaten since this morning."

You pause for a moment. "Oh. That's why my stomach feels weird." You pause again, thinking. "I - do you guys want anything? M-maybe takeout or something? I don't think I have anything in that you'd want, and I feel like it'd be rude for me to eat and not offer you anything. You'd - have to - pay for your own food, though…"

Bob's face lights up. "Yeah, that sounds great!"

"If you're sure," says Phoenix, but she looks just as pleased as Bob.

"I don't know, maybe we could put a movie on too?" you add, feeling a little braver.

Bob grins. "Can we watch Lord of the Rings?"

You glance at Phoenix, who looks slightly unsure. "Have you ever seen it?"

Phoenix shakes her head. "No."

Bob stares at her like she's crazy. "You've never seen Lord of the Rings? How is that even possible?"

Phoenix laughs, and holds her hands up. "I've seen The Hobbit, okay?"

Bob's not impressed. "Lord of the Rings is way better. You have to watch it."

"It's a trilogy, right?"

Oh, no. You can't stop yourself from grinning as Bob takes a deep breath.

"First of all, it's not a trilogy, it's one continuing story, and it was split into three parts because of printing costs. And technically, there are six books, because each part is split into two. But there are three movies."

Bradley chuckles. "I guess we know what we're watching tonight, then. If it's okay with you, of course," he adds hastily, looking at you.

You smile. "Yeah. It's fine. I was wanting to watch it sometime anyway, and I do owe Bob a Lord of the Rings marathon."

Bob's eyes light up again. "We're doing it tonight?"

You look at Bradley and Phoenix to try and gauge their reactions. "Uh… I mean, I'm up for it."

Phoenix shrugs. "I'm in."

"Same," says Bradley, smiling.

"Yes!" shouts Bob, making everyone jump. He blushes. "I - I'll go set up the - TV."

"I'll order the food," says Phoenix. "Everyone make a list of what they want, and transfer me the money."

Once you've all decided on which place to order from, and made your lists, Phoenix steps out to make the call. Bob's still fiddling with the TV, trying to get the sound and lighting just right.

Bradley tucks a blanket around you, making sure you're comfortable. "You need another blanket or anything, you just tell me, okay, sweetheart?"

You nod, blushing. "Okay."

Phoenix steps back into the room. "Okay. Food is ordered, and it'll be here in a bit. You need any help with the TV, Bob?"

Bob shakes his head. "It's all good. Just don't touch anything."

Phoenix and Bob sit on your other sofa, and Bradley settles himself next to you on the sofa.

"You sure you're comfy?" he asks.

You nod.

"Okay. But if you start getting uncomfortable, or cold, or something during the movie, just tell me, okay?"

You smile, and nod. "Okay."

There's a knock on the door, and Phoenix gets up to answer.

"Hey, Bob?" she calls. "Can I have a little help bringing this in?"

Once they've brought all the food in, and divided it, Bob turns the lights off, and presses play.

Smiling, you snuggle into your blanket. This is going to be great.

***************************************************

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, repost it, etc.

When I was younger, I obsessed over the idea of being a published writer more than I actually wrote. I wanted to be good at it, and I knew that I wasn’t.

In my imaginings of the future, I pictured myself as a seasoned author with a stack of written works resting on a desk, my hand resting lightly atop the tower, as if to say, “look at the breadth of my skill! I believe I have achieved enough. My work is complete; my hand need never pick up the pen again.”

Looking back, I wonder why I painted that picture in my head, a static image that seldom changed. Never did I imagine myself writing in a busy cafe or scribbling poetry under lamplight. I never saw myself writing the books; they just materialized, in all their hardback, small-font glory under my outstretched hand.

This image perverted my love of well-written stories. Whenever I brought my pen to a blank page, I could only write what I thought “novelists” wrote about. Without any passion or truth behind my words, they felt lifeless and empty. Not content with the idea that something I wrote wouldn’t be consumed by an audience, I often chose to write nothing at all.

I hadn’t yet learned that writing is a process of self-discovery. It is a means of trying to understand a chaotic world. And now, it is not something to accomplish; it is who I am.

I am a writer.

Maybe We Can Be Friends

My first fic! Not requested, but I thought it was a nice idea for a story, so here you go.

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Autistic!Fem!Shy!Reader

5.56K words

Warnings: A bit of angst, lots of fluff at the end, soft Jake, Penny being an awesome best friend, sensory overload and consequent meltdown, mentions of autism, mild cursing, mentions of a failed relationship, Naval inaccuracies, mentions of vomiting, mentions of alcohol, spoilers for Top Gun Maverick

Summary: You hate the cocky, blond pilot that’s always at The Hard Deck. He rubs you up the wrong way, distracts you while you’re trying to work, and generally makes a nuisance of himself. But things start to change very quickly after you find out a surprising truth about him. (Not quite enemies to lovers, more enemies to cordial friends (potentially lovers in the future).)

(A/N: Sorry, I'm bad at writing summaries)

It’s been a long day. Not in a bad way; you like university, and you like studying something that you actually enjoy, but your hyper-social classmates’ party culture does get a bit much sometimes.

At least you won’t be at any party tonight, though. You have a shift at The Hard Deck every night, which keeps you away from the noise in your apartment while the party rages on.

“Hey, Y/N!” calls Penny, as you enter. “How was college?”

You half-smile. “Okay, I guess. Lost my focus during a lecture, but fortunately I recorded it on my phone, so I don’t think I’m likely to fail the end-of-week test.”

Penny smiles. “That’s good.” As you follow her behind the counter, she adds, “We’ve got a new set of Navy pilots tonight.”

“How long are they staying?” you ask.

“A couple weeks, maybe a month.”

“The standard,” you clarify.

“That’s right.” Penny hands you a sponge. “Could you wash those glasses for me, hun? I was pretty busy today, and I didn’t get time to get everything ready before you arrived.”

“Oh, er, sure.” You start washing while Penny checks the drink dispensers to make sure they’re working.

There aren’t that many glasses to clean, and you’ve got them cleaned and dried in less than ten minutes. Stacking them into two piles, and picking up one pile in each hand, you put them away below the counter.

Once you’re done, Penny sets a glass of Coke in front of you. “Here you go.” She laughs at your surprised face. “I had to make sure it was working, you know.”

“So this is a test drink?”

“Yup.” Penny checks that you have enough canned drinks to last the evening. “You don’t have to pay for that one.”

You chuckle, turning your attention to the door. Ever since Penny had learned about your caffeine addiction (brought on by too much late-night studying), she always made sure you had enough Coke to last you through the evening, and she never let you pay for it.

Glancing up at the clock, Penny hurries over to the front of the bar. “It’s five, which means we are officially open,” says Penny, flipping over the open/closed sign in the front window.

Fortunately, the earlier hour or so isn’t too busy, which gives the caffeine plenty of time to kick in, so by the time the new set of Navy pilots arrive, you’re buzzing.

Glancing over, you notice Penny deep in conversation with a dark older guy, who she seems to know from somewhere. You know you can easily hold the fort while buzzing with your own brand of liquid courage, so you let her keep chatting.

You’ve been working at The Hard Deck for a few weeks now, and while being a bartender isn’t your go-to job, it works for now, especially as Penny has no tolerance for anyone disrespecting women.

Behind you, you hear a bell ringing, and you turn to see that the unfortunate who has to pay for tonight’s drinks - is none other than the guy Penny was just talking to.

You give her a questioning look as she joins you, but she doesn’t look upset. In fact, there’s a playful, teasing light in her eyes that you’ve never noticed before.

“Do you know him?” you ask.

“Later,” she replies.

“Penny, m’dear!” calls a voice. You turn to see a blond pilot, with what looks like a perpetual smirk. ‘Seresin’, his name tag reads.

Penny’s busy elsewhere, so you go over to him. “Yeah?”

“Or you’ll do just as well.” He smirks at you. “I’ll have four more on the old-timer.”

You try not to snort at his cheek. “Sure.” Handing him the beers, you turn to see if there’s anyone else you can serve.

“Haven’t seen you before,” remarks Seresin. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here?”

“That’s none of your business,” you say, your voice a little sharper than you intended.

“Oho, she’s a feisty one!” chuckles Seresin. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you ask.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Fortunately, the arrival of another pilot distracts Seresin before he can annoy you further. Sighing, you get yourself another drink of Coke. It looks like a long night.

“You okay?” asks Penny, going over to the card reader.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Just one annoying guy.”

“Did he do anything?”

You shake your head. “He was just cocky and annoying. Rubbed me up the wrong way. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.” Penny taps the card she’s holding. Declined.

You giggle. “Is that his card? The guy who’s buying a round?”

Penny laughs. “Yep. Unless he’s got cash, he’s getting thrown out.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, you hear the yell go up.

“Overboard! Overboard!”

You don’t join in, but you do watch with amusement as the guy’s carried outside and thrown onto the sand.

Your amusement fades, however, when Seresin (who was one of the guys taking part) winks at you as he goes past the counter. You know that a wink is nothing compared to what he could have done, but it does annoy you enough for you to chug yet another Coke.

Fortunately, he doesn’t stay too long afterwards, and the rest of the night is uneventful.

*****************************************************

You wake up feeling sick. Really sick. Sick as in, you’re going to throw up.

The minute you feel the bile rise in your throat, you jump out of bed, sprinting to the bathroom - and arrive just in time as your guts begin emptying themselves into the toilet.

Once you’ve finished throwing up, you flush the toilet, leaning back against the wall. Must’ve drank too much Coke last night, you think.

Normally, you’re pretty careful about what you eat from a food safety point of view, so you don’t think it’s food poisoning. Just in case, though, you call in sick at uni, and decide to spend the rest of the day at home.

Once you’ve called your uni, you realise you should probably call Penny, and let her know you won’t be at the bar tonight.

So, you dial her number, and wait for her to answer.

It doesn’t take long before you hear her cheery voice on the other end. “Hi, Y/N. You’re calling early. Is everything okay?”

Help, you think. You hate talking on the phone, but you don’t want to text in case she doesn’t see it in time. “Uh, hi, Penny. Just, uh, letting you know I won’t be able to make it to the - um, the bar tonight.”

“Oh, no. Why? Are you okay?”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes at Penny’s genuine concern. “I, uh, threw up, like, a few minutes ago. I don’t know if it’s, um, food poisoning, but I thought it was better, to - er, stay off, you know? Just in case.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, hon. Jimmy and I can manage for a couple nights. You want me to come around and help you out?”

You bite your lip nervously. You do like spending time with Penny, but you really don’t want her to get sick - and you also feel too gross to have guests around. “Oh, no, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine, honestly.”

“You sure? If it’s because you’re worried about me getting sick…”

Your face burns. How does she know me so well? “It kind of is, yeah. And I also - I just - I’m kind of gross right now. I don’t want you to, you know, have to deal with my, um, grossness.”

You hear Penny chuckle on the other end. “Y/N, you’re forgetting that I’m a mom. I’ve seen it all, trust me. You won’t gross me out.”

“But what about you getting sick?”

“If I was worried about that, I wouldn’t have offered, hon.”

“Um…” You consider for a moment, still unsure. “Okay, you can come, if you want.”

“I’ll be there in a couple minutes. Hang in there!”

You sigh with relief as you hang up. You haven’t had a stomach bug in years, and so you never really thought to look up what to do. (Plus, the WiFi’s down again, because you accidentally kicked the router over last night, and you haven’t had a chance to fix it.)

This isn’t the first time Penny’s helped you out. As well as being colleagues, you and Penny are also friends. Best friends.

Penny was the one who’d sorted you out when you first arrived in town, got you set up with accommodation, a job, showed you where the local shops were, and working at The Hard Deck was one way that you could say thank you to her.

When Penny arrives, she takes one look at you, and orders you into bed.

“Penny, I was just going to-”

“Bed, Y/N, now. You need to rest if you’re not feeling well, okay? I’ll take care of everything else.”

You’re not really that sorry to be back in your nice warm bed, letting someone else fuss over you. Especially if it’s Penny. You’re not sure if it’s just the mother in her, or if she’s always been such a caring person, but she is a great nurse.

Once she’s got you tucked into bed, Penny says, “I’m going to make you some tea, okay? I’ll just add some sugar, no milk.”

“I don’t really know if I can handle sugar,” you reply.

“Even just tea will help settle your stomach. I’ll get you some soup when you’re feeling a bit better, okay? Stay there, and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You don’t want to move anyway. Your stomach hurts from the throwing up, and you feel weak and exhausted. Is this what it’s like to have a fever? you wonder.

When Penny comes back, she has the promised tea, and a thermometer. “Realised I should probably check your temperature first,” she explains, slipping the thermometer under your arm before you can reply.

“This is, like, the first time in ten years that this has happened,” you mutter.

Penny raises an eyebrow. “Being taken care of?”

“Having a stomach bug.”

“Right.” Penny takes a look at the thermometer. “Your temperature’s normal.”

“Seriously? I was convinced-”

Penny laughs. “Let me guess, you tried to take your own temperature with the back of your hand.”

“Maybe,” you mutter. “I guess my hand isn’t that good at detecting temperatures.”

Penny points to the forgotten cup. “Try to drink some tea.”

“It’ll burn my mouth if I drink it right now.”

Penny shakes her head. “I made it so that it was lukewarm. I figured you didn’t want a hot liquid going into your stomach when you’re feeling this fragile.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks.” You take a sip. The tea’s pretty watery and bland, but that’s good. You probably couldn’t handle anything stronger than weak tea right now anyway.

And it does work to settle your stomach. It takes a while, but your stomach does finally stop churning, and you can relax.

You spend most of the day curled up in bed, watching trashy Netflix movies, while Penny takes care of you, making sure you eat at least a couple spoonfuls of soup at regular intervals to keep your stomach settled.

By teatime, you’re feeling well enough that you tell Penny she can probably open the bar without needing to worry about you.

She looks sceptical at first. “Are you sure, sweetie? I don’t have to open the bar, I could just look after you.”

You shake your head. “It’s not fair for me to make you lose out on a night’s income, and obviously Jimmy won’t be able to manage singlehanded. The aviators will probably be looking forward to their drinks. I’ve been in bed all day; I’ll be fine for the night.”

“Okay,” says Penny, “but sleep on your side, and promise you’ll call me if you’re suddenly feeling worse.”

“Promise,” you reply. “Thanks for looking after me today.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” says Penny. “What are friends for?”

*****************************************************

“Hey, pretty girl!” calls a voice.

You groan inwardly as you recognise Seresin’s obnoxious timbre. “Need anything?”

He ignores your question, leaning forward to gaze into your eyes rather more deeply than you would have liked. “Missed you last night.”

“I didn’t miss you.” You were on your third glass of Coke, which had made you rather more blunt than usual. “Do you need anything?”

“Were you okay?” Seresin persists, but the smirk on his face gives you the impression that he doesn’t really care about your wellbeing.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, come on. Do I have to?”

“Yes. There is a queue behind you, which you’re holding up, and I’m not answering your question until you answer mine. Now answer me or get out.”

Seresin’s smirk widens. “Jack and Coke.” As you hand him his drink, he adds, “Now where were you?”

“I was sick,” you say. “Sick in bed with a stomach bug. Now go away, you’re holding up the queue.”

“You were sick?” Was it your imagination, or did you catch a faint glimmer of concern?

Whatever it was, all it did was make you angrier. “Will you have the goodness to go away, or do I have to ring the bell?”

He puts his hand up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m moving. Geez, you ask one question…”

You sigh in exasperation as he moves away.  Idiot.

Penny, seeing your irritation, slips you another glass of Coke, which you drink gratefully. You have a feeling you're not going to sleep tonight.

*****************************************************

It's a few days later when you next meet up with Penny, this time at the beach.

“Mav's doing something with the pilots, and I thought you might just like some fresh air.”

You pause, but take her up on the offer. After all, you don't often go out for fun, and American beaches are quite nice.

So, after getting dressed, and cracking open your first can of Coke, you take a leisurely walk to the beach, taking your time, appreciating - well, everything, really. You have a friend in Penny, you're studying something you love, you live in a nice area…

You really are lucky.

Penny waves from one of the outdoor tables as you approach. “Hey, Y/N! How's it going?”

“It's going good,” you reply, sitting down opposite her. “What about you?”

“Oh, same old, same old,” smiles Penny.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, until you finally work up the courage to ask, “So, who is ‘Mav’?”

“His name's actually Captain Pete Mitchell, and his callsign is Maverick.”

“Are you friends or something?”

Penny smiles. “We go way back. I knew him before he was even in Top Gun. That was back in the ‘70s and early ‘80s. He joined in ‘86; we'd already broke off contact around ‘84.” She notices the question you're about to ask, and laughs. “And yes, we were dating. We've kind of had an on-again, off-again relationship.”

“Right,” you nod. Feeling like you should probably contribute to the conversation a bit more, you add, “I've never dated, but a guy that I liked went off with another girl and it - well, at the time, I thought it broke my heart, and so I thought, never again. But I am a bit more open to the idea now.”

“It must've been hard, though. I know it was for me, every time, even though he consistently broke my heart.”

“It wasn't as bad as it might have been, to be honest. I was just a kid at the time, so I kind of made it out to be this big deal when it really wasn't.” You smile. “And since I'm very happy being single, I absolutely forbid you to feel sorry for me.”

Penny smiles. “That's good, that you've moved on. There'll be others, you know, and maybe you'll meet the one someday.”

You shrug. “I don't know if I do want to, you know. I think there's something to be said for being single.”

“Oh, there is,” agreed Penny.

“-and anyway, even if I did meet him…” You break off, your face burning, unsure of whether to continue.

“Wben if you did?” prompted Penny gently.

You pause for a moment before dropping your voice to a whisper. “I - I'm autistic - obviously you know that already. It's pretty hard for me to navigate even friendships and family, you know, so how much harder would it be navigating a romantic relationship?”

Penny reaches over to rest a hand on your arm. “It must be hard, feeling like that.”

You shrug. “It is. I just - I don't know… I just don't want to put the burden on someone else, of having to deal with my moods and not being able to go certain places. It's just - I feel like - I just don't think it would end well - for all parties involved. And it's not like I'm burning with passion, you know; like I said, I'm happy being single.”

You sit in silence for several minutes, but it's not awkward. Penny's a very kind and understanding lady, and she has this way of not making you feel judged, even though you've shared something that people can and do judge.

“How's your stomach feeling?” Penny asks suddenly.

“It's pretty much better,” you reply. “I'm still not sure what caused it, though. It can't have been the Coke, because I had loads the last time I was at the bar, and I didn't get sick. And I'm pretty careful about what I eat, from a food safety standpoint.”

“It was probably just one of those things,” says Penny.

“Yeah. One of life's mysteries.” You turn your attention to the ball game on the beach.

A load of shirtless men playing with a couple of American footballs. There was Seresin - darn him - a moustached guy you'd seen a couple times, a guy with glasses - the only one still wearing his shirt…

“Hangman's been giving you a hard time, isn't he?” says Penny suddenly.

“What? - Oh, yeah. D'you mean that blond smirking idiot?”

Penny chuckles. “You could call him that. One of the other pilots calls him Bagman.”

“Because he's a dirtbag?”

Penny laughs again. “He's annoying, that's for sure, but I don't know that I'd go that far, hon.”

“Didn't you see him holding up the queue on - when was it now? - Wednesday?”

“I noticed it was backing up a bit. What took him so long?”

“He apparently wanted to inquire about my health. As if I was going to tell him! I gave him several pieces of my mind, and then told him to pick a drink or get out.”

Penny laughed. “That might teach him a lesson, huh? Don’t mess with a heavily caffeinated Y/N!”

You laugh. “Yeah, that stuff is surprisingly potent. It's a good thing I never liked the taste of alcohol, or he might not have gone away with just a verbal thrashing!”

“And you'd have probably ended up in hospital!” added Penny. “But seriously, try not to let him get to you. I know it's pretty much impossible to ignore a guy like that, but if he does overstep a boundary, or annoy you too much, there's always the bell, you know.”

You half-smile. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Penny.”

Looking over, you notice that one of the guys has left the ball game.

“Looks like Mav's left the game,” remarks Penny. “Hey, Mav!” she calls. “Come over here!”

Turning in your direction, Mav grins, gets up, and goes over to you. “Hey, Penny. Who's your friend?”

“This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Mav.”

“That's Captain Mitchell!” protests Mav, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Um - yeah, hi,” you mutter, smiling shyly.

“You been in San Diego long?”

You consider. “Um, about a month, I think.”

“How long you known Penny? You two seem pretty close.”

“A couple years,” says Penny, but doesn't clarify further.

“Hey, Mav!” someone yells from the beach.

You turn to see who spoke, and - oh, of all the miserable luck!

It's that Seresin. Or Hangman, as Penny calls him. And you'd love to hang him right now. How much did he hear? you wonder.

“Oh, hey, it's pretty girl!” he says, coming over to you. “How you doin’, hon?

Go away. You glare at him, refusing to answer.

“Oho, that won't do, hon. I asked a question.” He crouches down to your level. “How's your stomach?”

“What?” You're so shocked at the audacity of his question that you forget to blank him.

“You mentioned you weren't well. A stomach bug.”

“Oh, that. Well, I was fine until now, and will - you - go - away?”

“C'mon, sweets. I came over here to be nice, and all I get in return is this?”

I don't think you could ever be nice, you think, even angrier than before because he's making your heart behave strangely. It's jumping about in quite a disconcerting fashion.

You shoot a pleading look at Penny, who, understanding your predicament at once, says, “Y/N and I were just going, actually. Goodbye.”

As you walk off, Penny gives your hand a sympathetic squeeze. “It's okay, Y/N. He didn't hear us.”

“I didn't think he did,” you mutter. “I just - he's so irritating! Pretending to care about my health when I know he couldn't give one, that stupid smile, his stupid good looks…”

“I think you're having a sugar crash, hon,” replies Penny. “You're never this moody.”

“I probably am,” you agree. “I wonder how long that set of pilots has before they leave.”

“Another few weeks, I think. D'you think you can hold out that long?”

You sigh. “Hopefully. So long as that Seresin stays away, our feud might remain bloodless.”

Penny chuckles. “A feud? He's been here, what? A week? You barely know him!”

“I don't really know what else to call it,” you admit.

Penny just smiles. “Come in and have some Coke, and we'll talk girl things to keep your mind off him.”

*****************************************************

Fortunately, after the little scene on the beach, Seresin keeps his distance. He still smirks at you whenever you catch his eye (or he catches yours), and you still find him annoying, but at least he doesn't directly interact with you.

His stupid smirking does distract you while you're trying to work, though. You've messed up more orders in the past few weeks than ever before, and the worst of it is, the more you see of him, the more he grows on you.

It's just because of his good looks, you think at first. He is pretty handsome, although you'd never admit that to anyone, not even Penny.

You do think it's a shame that he's so annoying, though, because he seems like he's got the potential to be nice and friendly. You've seen how he interacts with the likes of Coyote, and sure, he's got a big ego, but at the same time, he and Coyote do actually seem to have a friendship dynamic. 

The next big event that happens is an Admiral's funeral. You don't actually know the family, but Penny attends, so you figure she probably knows them from somewhere, although you don't ask.

It's sometime soon after the funeral when you next see Mav. You and Penny are working harder than usual at the bar, because it's Jimmy's night off.

It's when you notice her straighten up out of the corner of your eye that you realise Mav's there. He's wearing his dress whites, and looking more serious than when you met him at the beach.

“You go on, Pen,” you whisper. “I can take care of things until you get back.”

Penny looks sceptical. “You sure, Y/N?”

You nod. “I'm caffeinated enough to handle anything. A busy bar is no problem.”

Penny's only out for a few minutes, but she comes back looking pretty serious. You don't ask right then and there, but you do afterwards.

“Mav's been selected as the mission team leader,” explains Penny.

You don't fully understand Navy jargon, but you know enough to understand that this might be the last time Penny ever sees Mav.

You don't really know what to say, so you give her a hug instead. You're not really used to hugging, so it's a bit awkward, but Penny appreciates it, and tells you so.

“Do - do you want me to stay with you tomorrow?” you ask. “I could get the day off from uni…”

Penny shakes her head. “That's very sweet of you, but I'll be fine. You need to keep on top of your studies.”

“Okay,” you reply. “I - uh, guess I'll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you. And thank you.”

You turn in surprise. “Thank you?”

“For being so supportive. I know you don't find it easy helping people when they're - like this, but it does help. A lot.”

Although you're still not sure you helped, you do feel better that Penny, at least, thinks you did.

But once you're in bed at home, you're suddenly struck with the realisation that Seresin's going on this mission. What if he doesn't come back?

And even if he does, he's going to be transferred somewhere else soon.

And you don't like that thought. You don't like it one little bit.

*****************************************************

Today is going to be a bad day. That's your first thought when you realise you're all out of Coke. You'd meant to get some at the shop last night, but you'd been so emotionally drained from a long night at the bar plus helping Penny that you completely forgot.

And now you're running late. Too late to go and pick up some Coke at a convenience store.

You lose your focus during your first lesson, and get shouted at for not paying attention. You're so upset and rattled by this that you end up finding it difficult to focus for the rest of the day, leading to panic-studying during free periods…

It's just not your day.

You've been placing all your money on the hope that the bar will be quiet, at least until you've fully caffeinated yourself.

Unfortunately, you're late, and as you walk up to the bar, you notice that it's heaving even at this early hour. The bar’s just opened!

“Hey,” Penny greets you, but she seems a bit preoccupied. “Mav's lot stormed the bar before it was even open,”  she explains. “They wanted to celebrate the success of the mission. You can leave if it's too much for you. I won’t be mad.”

You shake your head. “No, I'll stay. I just need some caffeine and I'll be fine.”

Penny looks a bit sceptical. “If you're sure. The offer still stands. You leave at any time you need, no questions asked, I'll still pay you the full amount, and I won't be mad.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, wondering if maybe you should take her up on the offer right now, before any disasters happen.

But the stubborn part of you, the part that often makes your life more difficult than necessary overrules the others. I will not be set back by something so stupid. I will finish my shift like a normal person, and I will not have a meltdown.

But that's easier said than done. As the night rages on, and the bar gets busier and busier - where are all these people coming from? - you surely regret not backing out when you had the chance.

Sure, you still have the chance, but you'd feel bad about leaving Penny and Jimmy to deal with all these people.

It's okay, you tell yourself. These are just crowds, you've been in crowds before, you can handle this.

But no matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you know deep down that it's all a lie. You can't handle crowds well, you're not okay, you need out.

“Y/N?” It's Penny, looking worried. “Are you okay? Do you need to take a walk?”

You shake your head. “I'm fine.” It's a lie, of course. But you're determined to push through, to really earn your pay.

The last straw finally falls when you hear a glass smash, and a yell go up. Suddenly, everything becomes too much for you. The background noise becomes a deafening roar, the crowd seems to be trying to crush the air out of your lungs, the heat becomes intolerable, and you feel panic - no, terror - rising in your chest.

You grab Jimmy's arm in your panic. When he sees you're in sensory overload, he springs into action immediately, taking your arm, leading you out of the bar, and into the back room, before going to find Penny.

You sit there, curled up with your knees up to your chin, rocking back and forth, willing yourself not to cry.

“Hey, you okay?”

You jump at the sound of Seresin's unmistakable voice, your mind immediately beginning to race. No, no, no! Why did it have to be that Seresin?

“Go away,” you mumble, your voice cracking on the last word. You can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks. Not wanting Seresin to see you cry, you bury your face in your knees.

“Hey, what's wrong, hon? Why are you crying?”

You shake your head violently, burying your face further into your knees, hoping he'll take the hint and go away.

But instead, you feel his hand on your shoulder. “Was it something I said? Please, don't cry, hon. I didn't mean to upset you.”

His voice has a different quality to it now; it's soft, gentle, concerned. It's like he actually cares about you.

And that's why you look up, tears still streaming down your face, which intensify when you see the tender concern written all over Seresin's face.

He's kneeling beside you, watching you with suspiciously glassy eyes. “What happened, sweets? Did someone hurt you?”

You shake your head, trying to regain some semblance of control over yourself, eventually managing to choke out something about sensory overload.

Seresin's face softened. “Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. What can I do to help?”

You're so shocked by the question that you burst into a fresh load of tears.

“Oh, no, don't, please…” Seresin puts his hand on your shoulder, rubbing up and down your upper back, trying to soothe you.

It takes some time, but finally, you calm down enough to the point where you're only letting out a few hiccuping sobs at regular intervals.

“Better?” asks Seresin.

You nod slowly, still trying to grasp what's just happened.

“Anything else I can do?”

You pause, uncertain for a moment, feeling like your request sounds stupid. But when you look into his eyes, you see nothing but tender concern.

“C-can I - have a - a hug?” you ask tentatively.

Seresin nods, giving you a reassuring smile. “C'mere, sweets.”

You scooch closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you, and just hold you. A few tears trickle down your cheeks, and you sniffle a bit, but you're quiet for the most part, just enjoying the feeling of having someone else hold you.

“Y/N? Oh, sweetie, are you okay?”

You look up to see Penny standing over you, filled with worry.

“When Jimmy told me you'd had a sensory overload… Oh, honey, you've been crying. I'm so sorry, the bar's been so busy tonight, or I'd have come sooner.”

You're not really sure how to respond to her outburst, but you mutter something along the lines of, “It's fine…” Emboldened by the sound of your own voice, you add, “Seresin took care of me while you were gone.”

“I can see that,” replies Penny. “You okay now?”

You nod. “I'm not going to cry, if that's what you mean.”

“Hey, I could take you home, if you want,” says Seresin.

You bite your lip. “It's very kind of you, but…”

You glance nervously at Penny, who, understanding, takes up the sentence. “Her roommates like to party in the evening.”

“Some roommates,” mutters Seresin. “Y'know, I could take you anyplace that relaxes you, then take you to your apartment afterwards?”

“Um…” You glance at Penny again.

She smiles and nods. “It's okay; he's safe.”

So you turn back to Seresin with an, “Um, okay.”

He grins. “Great!”

As you make your way through the bar, Seresin keeps you close, with a protective arm around your shoulders.

The other pilots give you funny looks, but Seresin just waves them away, pulling you a little closer as he does so.

Once you're outside the bar, Seresin takes you to his truck. “So, where are we headed?”

You bite your lip, blushing. “Uh, I don't know…”

He smiles. “It's okay. We'll find somewhere to go.”

As you get into the truck, he suddenly adds, “Y'know, I never did catch your name.”

“Oh, er, it's Y/N L/N.”

“Nice name. Mine's Jake. Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman, but you can call me Jake.”

“Okay… Jake.” It feels weird calling him by his first name, but it's a nice kind of weird.

As he pulls away from the car park, you think about how strangely this day has turned out. It started off so terribly, but looks like it's going to end well.

Jake glances over, smiling at you. It's a kind smile, not his usual smirk, and his voice is gentler than usual when he says, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I like this shy side of you.”

You smile shyly. “This is how I normally am.”

“What about those times you yelled at me?”

“I drink a lot of caffeine. It makes me more assertive.”

Jake chuckles. “Right.”

As he drives, you relax back into your seat, wondering what changed about Jake to make him so nice all of a sudden. You've never seen this kind, caring side of him before, but you like it, and you hope very much that it will last.

*****************************************************

Part 2

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, post it elsewhere, etc.

STOP MAKING MY LIL AWKWARD NERDY BOYS BE CONFIDENT AND SO SURE OF THEMSELVES!!! I LIKE THEM BECAUSE THEY’RE NERDY NOT BECAUSE YOU FANFIC WRITERS MAKE THEM EGO MANIC ASSHOLES

the only excuse I see from people who think it's okay to give fanfic writers unsolicited criticism is "if writers can't handle criticism, they should not be posting their works online" and tbh I think it's such a weak, pathetic excuse to be entitled.

someone not wanting unsolicited criticism on something they do for themself — for fun, as a form of self-care — out of love and passion has nothing to do with whether or not they can handle criticism. because we're not talking about a job they get paid to do. we're talking about a damn fanfiction. a hobby. something writers do in their free time as their source of comfort and getaway.

it's their art. not yours. it can be whatever and however an author wants it to be.

instead of trying to justify your action by gaslighting writers — whose works you read for free — that they "should be able to handle unsolicited criticism", ask yourself why you feel the need to go to someone's fic, read it, and then complain about things you don't like when you can always quietly leave if you don't have anything nice to say.

"can fanfic writers handle unsolicited criticism?" "can you learn basic manners and how not to be entitled?"

either respect artists or shut the fuck up forever.