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dreamingundone · 9 months

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Infinite Space

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female OC Rating/Warnings: No real warnings. Angsty but with a happy ending. Summary: Her life has consisted of work, trying to find her way in the world, and more work. Until he walked through the doors of her bakery. Disclaimer: I don’t own TG:M, Jake, or the lyrics I used for the title and that are at the beginning of the fic, which is from “Infinite Space” by Young Mister. Please don’t repost or translate my work without my permission! Author’s Note: Feeling some type of way about my lack of love life lately. I also read Mixed Signals by B.K. Borison last week and it gave me feelings. So here we are. Hope you enjoy!

Are you listening? Are you sending out a message of your own? Show me some flashing lights Give me a signal I'll be waiting by the window

Baking makes perfect sense to her. It’s scientific, exact measurements that when put together and baked, create something beautiful in the end.

She always thought love was like that too. Two people with the ingredients the other is missing come together, and something beautiful comes out of it. It’s just not been the case for her, ever in her entire life, and it’s something she struggles to make sense of.

It’s not like she’s miserable. She has her friends and her little house that she loves, and her bakery. She spends her days surrounded in a cloud of flour, sugar, and butter, and she makes people happy by giving them birthday cakes, little treats for their friends, and breakfast pastries to brighten up their mornings.

It’s when she leaves for the day that she feels the absence of something to make her feel happy. Her little bungalow, as cozy as it is, starts to feel too quiet sometimes, and if she lets herself think her own thoughts for too long, that emptiness starts to fill her up.

The arrival of the newest Top Gun class keeps her really busy. They come in for sweet treats and coffee and take up space at the tables at the front of the store. There’s whispers about some top-secret mission that no one really knows much about, but also everyone knows about it. It makes her grin. Nothing is ever a secret at Miramar for too long.

She’s in the middle of sliding a tray of mini cinnamon rolls into the oven when the bell over the door chimes, and she frowns, annoyed that someone is coming in this close to closing time.

“We’re–” She turns around and stops, seeing the most bedraggled fighter pilot she’s ever seen standing in her lobby, looking for all the world like he’s been in the air for hours.

“I know you’re about to close, I’m sorry.” He says, dragging a hand across his face. “Any chance you have coffee left? I’ll pay extra for it.”

“Are you okay?” She asks, coming around the counter. She slides out a chair to one of the tables, and he collapses in it gratefully. He looks a little bewildered at her question, like he can’t remember the last time someone asked about his well being.

“I’ll be alright,” he says. “I can go, I’m sorry if I’m–”

“No, I have coffee left. Made a fresh pot a half hour ago. Just let me…” she steps quickly towards the door and locks it, flipping the sign to “closed”. Heading back towards the counter, she grabs a to-go cup and starts pouring, hearing his audible sigh when the coffee steams.

“Long day?” She asks, walking back to the table and setting down the cup.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He says, eyes closing as he inhales the steam. “Seriously, let me pay extra. I don’t mean to keep you.”

She shrugs. “I’ll be here a while longer anyway.”

“Thank you.” He takes a sip, and swallows a groan. She grins. She may be known for her pastries and cakes, but she makes a mean cup of coffee, too. “I’m Jake,” he says, holding out his free hand.

She introduces herself, and shakes his hand. “I’ve seen you here before,” she says, and he nods.

“Anyone who’s been at Miramar long enough knows this is the place to go for breakfast. I think your donuts have single handedly helped me stay in my weight class.” He grins at her now, and it’s such a difference from the man that walked through the door a few moments ago, she’s momentarily blindsided.

“Any reason you’re here in time for dinner, then?” She heads back behind the counter to begin stacking plates for the next day’s morning rush.

He winces. “I’m due back at the base tonight. It’s—” He stops himself, raises an eyebrow. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this.” He stands, and it looks like it takes all his energy to haul himself to his feet. He drains the rest of his coffee in two gulps and sets the mug down on the counter. He starts to dig into his pocket for his wallet, but she waves her hand.

“That one’s on me, Jake.”

And so it goes like that, at least once a week for the next month. Jake comes just before closing to beg for a cup of coffee, and a few times, he scrounges up the leftover pastries to bring back to base with him. He insists he’s not hoarding them all for himself, but really, she doesn’t mind.

Jake is easy to talk to. There’s an alarm bell clanging in her mind every time he leaves, because she knows one day he might not be back at all. He could get deployed, or reassigned, and then where would that leave her?

Right back where she’s been, going home alone at the end of a long day.

They don’t even really know each other besides the basics. She tells herself not to get attached to him, to the way he swaggers in now like he owns the place, that little dimpled smile she’s starting to think is only for her.

He moves from a table to the counter, and watches with his coffee as she preps pastries for the next morning, or does dishes, and he offers a thought here or there about bear claws or croissants or whatever it is she’s trying a recipe for.

In turn, she listens as he complains about work, about the endless training they’re doing for some mission he can’t tell her anything about.

There’s some tension between him and his coworkers that he also doesn’t open up much about, but that’s okay with her. They’re in this little bubble, she and Jake. She bakes, and he samples. They don’t get too deep. She feels like it’s an escape from the rest of her life.

It absolutely aches every time he leaves, and the emptiness she feels when she goes home at night only gets worse. She feels like she’s been waiting forever for a connection like this, and it’s that feeling that makes her hesitant. She’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The next time she sees Jake, he’s tense, his shoulders drawn up and face stoic.

“Jake?”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. She starts to get worried, starts to wonder if it’s finally happening - he’s here to tell her that he’s leaving and he’s not coming back - or worse, going to tell her that he’s been being nice by coming here so often, but that there’s nothing really there between them, and he’s sorry.

“I, uh–” he takes a few steps closer, and when he gets within arm’s reach, he stops, looking at her with an unreadable expression. “You smell like cinnamon.” He smiles, his voice a little rough.

“Occupational hazard.” She replies, smiling.

“I’m being deployed.” He blurts, and he flexes his hands like he’s not sure what to do with the energy running through his veins. “I wanted to tell you, I didn’t want to just disappear…”

Her defense mechanism kicks in right away. “That’s okay,” she says quickly, busying herself by tidying up the counter by the register. “You didn’t have to come by just to tell me that. I mean, we’re not–” she gestures vaguely, not able to meet his eyes.

If she did, she’d see the way he blinks rapidly, taking a small step back, before clearing his throat. “Right.”

She forces a bright smile and looks up, seeing how he’s still standing by the door. “I appreciate you letting me know. I’ll have to stop leaving the coffee pot hot past three in the afternoon, now.”

His answering smile is a little brittle. “Hopefully not forever.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he just nods at her once. “I won’t keep you. Thanks for… well, for everything. The last few weeks.”

“You’re welcome, Jake.” She says. She wishes she could just open her mouth. She wishes she was brave enough to tell him that she wishes he would ask her out for real, instead of coming by for a cup of coffee and pastry. She wishes she could just say that his company over the last few weeks means more to her than he knows.

She doesn’t.

He leaves.

……………….

What if I never reach you What if I never get to see your face I've been dying to break through I know you're somewhere out there in the infinite space Somewhere out there in the infinite space

Not being picked for the Dagger mission would have been a blow to Jake’s ego on any day, but it’s especially a kick to the gut a week after his last conversation with her.

“We’re not–”

She had said it so quickly, so casually, he was just glad that she hadn’t been looking at him in time to see the way he felt it like a physical blow.

He’s not stupid - he’s not in love with her or anything, but he feels… something. He felt it the minute he came in, hoping the bakery was still open, desperate for a decent cup of coffee to give him the boost he needed to get back to work.

When he looked up and saw her there, it was like a punch right to his chest. She had flour on her cheek and there was the smell of butter and cinnamon in the air, and she asked him if he was okay.

That was all it took, really.

He kept finding excuses to come back, and at first he kept saying it was because he’d never had a neighborhood place, a place where he walked in and they knew his name and his order. This was better. She knows his name, and that he likes his coffee with one sugar and one cream, and sometimes she gives him a free cookie or croissant or asks him to taste something she’s working on.

That’s all it is.

A place where he can go where she doesn’t know him, doesn’t know that everyone calls him Bagman, doesn’t know that he’s a grade A asshole to his friends on a daily basis.

He can be someone else. And the worst part, the part that really makes him wonder where it all went wrong, is that he wants to be someone else. He wants to be better. He wants to be more deserving of that smile he gets from her when she puts that cup of coffee in front of him.

Maybe he read it all wrong. Maybe she was just being nice, humoring the exhausted pilot who kept showing up and mooching her coffee.

He runs a hand over his face, trying to concentrate on the mission specs for tomorrow. Even though he’s the spare for this, he’s determined to be ready for his moment, to prove he’s supposed to be here.

Of course the whole thing goes sideways, because of course it does. His heart is in his throat and he feels helpless the entire time, and finally he just does what he needs to do.

He says fuck it, and he takes off, unable to listen to a second more of everyone else deliberating whether or not they should sit there while Mav and Rooster get killed.

So he goes AWOL, and he does what needs to be done. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt he did the right thing, and he can see it in the eyes of all his squadmates.

It makes him feel more like the person he is when he’s around her.

It scared the shit out of him, too - the entire day was one non-stop adrenaline ride.

He wishes he was back in San Diego, wishes he could drive the few miles from base to the bakery, and let her talk him down. She’s always got that smile, and she always smells like chocolate and sugar, and he wishes he wasn’t such an idiot.

He should have asked her out weeks ago, so there wouldn’t have been that awkward moment. At least then he’d be sure he hadn’t just imagined the connection between them, that he wasn’t making it up. He feels like he’s known her for years, and he doesn’t even have her phone number.

He resolves to fix it as soon as they get back, as long as he’s not facing a court martial first.

...............

She wonders how Jake’s deployment is going almost every day. She keeps herself busy, tries not to replay every second of their last interaction in her head, and tries to convince herself she did the right thing.

But the look on his face when she told him not to worry about ghosting her… was there something there?

She feels like she’s been waiting for her person for so long, that it seems impossible that one day he’d just show up out of the blue asking for a cup of coffee. But what if he did?

What if she ruined it by trying to protect herself?

Too busy daydreaming, she groans as she looks down at her ruined bowl of buttercream frosting, moving to the trash can to begin scraping it out. All day she’s been like this, distracted and making mistakes.

She’s watching the clock drift closer to time to go home, and without much else to keep her busy, she’s dreading going home where all she’s going to do is overthink more than she already is.

The chime on the door surprises her, and her heart stutters.

“Any chance you’ve got one of those cinnamon rolls left?” A familiar voice asks.

Her heart lurches. “Jake?”

He looks tired, but his eyes are almost sparkling as he looks at her. “Hey.”

“You’re back.” She blurts, and immediately feels stupid. He’s standing right in front of her. Of course he is. It doesn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only makes him smile wider.

“Before you say anything, I just want to tell you that you were wrong, the last time we talked.”

Her brow furrows. “Wrong?”

“When you said it wouldn’t have mattered if I didn’t let you know I was being deployed.” He takes a few steps closer. “When you said we weren’t…” he trails off, gesturing between the two of them. “I know it’s just been a few weeks, and I know we’ve only had conversations over coffee about non-important stuff.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was struggling to find the right words. He looked up to meet her gaze. “I’d like to take you out, if you’ll let me.”

Everything she’d been feeling over the last few weeks felt like it landed on her shoulders in the moment. She felt the relief of knowing that she wasn’t alone in her feelings. She felt guilty for pushing him away in the first place.

“I think I owe you an apology, Jake.” She says quietly, coming around from behind the counter. “I just… I didn’t know if you were just being nice to me, coming here all those nights. I didn’t want to assume anything. And I didn’t want you to feel obligated when you came back.”

He frowns. “I kept coming here for you, no offense to your coffee.” He takes another step closer, so the tips of their shoes are almost touching. “The cinnamon rolls are a plus.”

She laughs, and his grin widens.

“Is that a yes? You’ll go out with me?”

“Only if you tell me what happened on this not-so-secret top secret mission.”

He rolls his eyes. “Everyone around here is such a gossip. I can’t tell you everything but I can tell you about how I was a hero and saved the day.” His smile is smug.

“Perfect.” She says, and there, in the warm light of her bakery, surrounded by everything she’s ever known, she thinks she’s finally ready to take the leap and see if he’s the one she’s been waiting for, the other half she didn’t know she was missing all these years.

And for once, she’s not scared anymore.

#jake seresin x oc #hangman seresin x oc #top gun maverick fanfiction #well here it is a million years late #and this isn't the fake dating fic i promised #that's still to come!!!!

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inkskinned · 9 months

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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

#almost wrote the champagne line as ''effervescent'' but legit could not write it without saying ''effervescent like a snail''#ah tumblr...#writeblr #warm up #idk . having trouble writing rn #ps i don't like to talk about it . it is my medical information. but before you ask. yes this is about being on the spectrum #i really don't like when ppl make my writing about how im [whatever ID]. i want it to ring true for the people who it rings true for #i don't want it to be like ''awwwww look at this person!!! she's the EXCEPTION!!! :)" .....#no.... not really.....#idk something gross happens whenever i admit to certain conditions and i turn into like inspiration p*rnography #like yes they actually let us use keyboards these days #furthermore i just... dont feel comfortable talking about this part of me. i had too bad of a childhood. adhd is one thing...#this one im like. still coming to terms with. which is like. my own journey.#idk. just please be kind. some things are more private than others. this one feels private to me.#i do not know how to help others w/this . and i do not know how to help myself. i will talk about it if im ever ready. idk if that will #actually ever happen #ty in advance i love u im kissing you we are kissing somewhere on the spectrum

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