darlingyougotthis

[darlingyougotthis]

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Eight: Stars and Smoke

The hangar was quieter than usual. No music. No banter. No quick-witted remarks echoing off the steel beams above. Just the low hum of morning logistics—the clink of tools, the roll of tires, the distant buzz of comms from the tower.

Phoenix leaned against the edge of the table in the briefing room, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Rooster sat nearby, flipping through a folder he wasn’t really reading. Bob stood by the coffee machine, carefully pouring sugar into his mug, glancing every now and then toward the door.

No one said it, but they were all waiting for her. The air still held the chill of what Tiffany had done the night before. The kind of chill that sat under the skin.

And then—footsteps.

Nova walked in with her head up, her pace steady. Her expression was unreadable, calm in a way that didn’t invite sympathy or conversation. Just quiet acknowledgment.

“Morning,” she said simply, voice light but not breezy.

Phoenix offered a gentle nod. “Morning.”

Bob smiled softly. “Hey, Nova.”

Rooster closed his file. “You good?”

Nova looked at him for a second too long, then nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Rooster didn’t push. None of them would. They weren’t sure how much she wanted to give—but they were all on her side now. That much was clear.

She slid into a seat near the front of the room and focused on the blank projector screen ahead like it was a lifeline.

More minutes passed. Then—footsteps again. Heavier ones. Slower.

Jake walked in, flight jacket over his shoulder, hair still slightly messy from the wind. His eyes scanned the room automatically—until they found her.

Nova.

She didn’t look at him. Not immediately. But she felt him. Jake moved toward his seat. Rooster watched him with a side glance but said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Jake sat two seats behind her. Close enough to watch her. Far enough not to be obvious. She hadn’t turned around.Jake saw it anyway—the way her fingers gently tapped her knee beneath the desk. The only tell she had.

Before he could do anything, the door at the front opened. Maverick entered, his expression focused as always, but his gaze paused on Nova longer than the others.

“Alright,” he started, nodding once toward the screen behind him. “We’ve got a staggered schedule today—rotating drills and vertical climbs. You’ll be flying in pairs. Names will be posted in the hangar in ten. But before that—Brooke.”

Nova looked up.

“Stick around after the briefing. Need a moment of your time.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jake leaned slightly forward, something about the tone catching his ear. But he said nothing. Maverick continued with the usual orders and reminders, all of it passing in a blur of standard protocol. No one interrupted. No one laughed. They were all just going through the motions.

When it was over, the group began to scatter.

Phoenix hesitated near Nova’s chair, her voice soft. “You good staying behind?”

Nova nodded once. “I’ll catch up.”

Phoenix offered a small smile before leaving with Bob and Rooster. Jake stayed back, slower to gather his things, deliberately.

Maverick waited until the room cleared before walking over to Nova. Jake lingered near the doorway, pretending to check his phone.

“I just wanted to say,” Maverick said quietly, “you handled yourself with more restraint than most would’ve last night.”

Nova’s eyes flickered. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“You didn’t need to feel it. You showed it.” He paused. “You sure you’re still good to fly?”

She nodded without hesitation. “Yes, sir.”

Maverick studied her for a moment longer, then nodded once. “You’re cleared. And Brooke?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let anyone define your story for you.”

Nova’s jaw tightened slightly. “Understood.”

Maverick turned and left.

Nova stayed in her seat, exhaling slowly. She sensed him before she saw him. Jake’s shadow fell across the table. She didn’t look at him right away.

“You didn’t have to stay,” she said softly.

“I know.”

A pause.

She looked up, met his eyes.

Jake’s voice was quieter now. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am,” she said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Jake nodded slowly. His gaze searched hers. “You sure?”

Nova hesitated. Then she gave him a small, tired smile. “You don’t need to worry about me, Hangman.”

He smirked gently, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well. Might be too late for that.”

She blinked at him. And just like that, the tension changed.

Jake exhaled and looked away. “Anyway. I’ll see you out there.”

He turned and walked out, but not before glancing back once. Nova sat still. A minute later, she stood, walked toward the door, and headed for the sky.

Nova stood by the edge of the tarmac, arms folded over her chest, helmet tucked under one arm. Her eyes tracked the twin jets streaking through the sky, sunlight glinting off the metallic curves as they maneuvered in perfect rhythm. The familiar thrum of engines vibrated through her bones, but her focus was on one pilot in particular.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin flew like he was born with wings.

Every roll, every pivot, every breath of throttle — it was smooth, instinctive, and confident without being arrogant. She saw it in the way his jet moved, not just with precision but grace. Calculated, clean, and somehow effortless. He flew like a man who trusted himself completely.

Nova squinted behind her tinted visor as Jake pulled into a high arc and descended with sharp control. Her stomach didn’t flutter — not from the altitude, anyway. No, that was something else.

She exhaled slowly as the jets returned to base, tires kissing down on the tarmac. Maverick’s voice crackled through her headset, giving feedback and praise. Jake’s voice responded, light, casual — always that damn grin in his tone.

He made it look easy. Always did.

Now, it was her turn.

Nova’s jet sliced through the sky like a whisper.

Where Jake flew with muscle memory and confidence, Nova moved like instinct incarnate. Her flight path was silent poetry — efficient, elegant, commanding. Maverick’s voice echoed in her ears as he pushed her, but she met every challenge with composed calm, never breaking pace.

She looped, cut, pivoted — the air hers to shape.

Below, the others watched in silence. Even Rooster, always quick with a whistle or a joke, stood with his hands on his hips, gaze fixed skyward.

Jake didn’t move. His eyes stayed on her the entire time.

When she landed and rolled into position, canopy opening to the warmth of late-day sun, Nova removed her helmet and climbed down the ladder. Her braid, tucked into her suit, loosened slightly with the movement, a few strands catching in the breeze. Jake was already there. He hadn’t said anything when the others clapped or nodded in admiration. But he waited. Just for her.

As she stepped onto the ground, still flushed from the flight, she found him watching her with that unreadable expression of his — soft, subtle, but so full of weight.

“You’re hell in the sky, Nova,” Jake said, voice low, almost reverent. “That was…” He paused, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite find the words. “Damn near flawless.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Jake.”

There was a quiet moment between them. One beat. Two. Nova tilted her head slightly, her voice careful. “Is Tiffany okay?”

Jake blinked, like he hadn’t expected her to ask. His jaw shifted — a small tell — before he answered.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. Then added, softer: “Eventually.”

That was all he gave.

But Nova saw it — in the tension around his mouth, in the weight behind his eyes.

It was over.

She didn’t push. Instead, she looked down briefly, nodding once.

Jake cleared his throat. “About last night… thank you. For trusting me. That couldn’t have been easy.”

Nova swallowed, voice quieter now. “I wish it hadn’t happened like that.”

A silence stretched between them. Heavy. Honest.

Then, Jake stepped just slightly closer. His voice was low — not meant for anyone else, not even the wind. Just her.

“For what it’s worth…” he said, “that night at the jukebox? I think that’s when I started falling.”

Nova’s breath caught. Her eyes found his — green on blue. The world stilled. She didn’t speak. But she looked at him — really looked at him. Like she could see right through every bravado layer, every flirty smirk, every carefully built wall. Her expression didn’t change. Not fully.

But something in her eyes flickered. Softened. Caught fire.

And then… she turned.

Without a word, Nova walked away, her boots hitting the tarmac in even strides, helmet cradled in her arm, braid dancing in the breeze behind her. Jake didn’t follow. He just watched her go — heart somewhere in his throat, still hearing the echo of music and memory.

The debriefing had ended with the usual banter and Maverick’s parting grin, but Nova lingered in the corner, tucking her notes into a folder with deliberate precision. She felt Phoenix’s presence before the pilot even spoke.

“You coming tonight?” Natasha asked, her tone easy, the question softer than most.

Nova glanced up, brows raised. “Tonight?”

“Bonfire at the beach,” Phoenix clarified, tugging on the strap of her bag. “Team thing. Low-key. Drinks. Laughs. Sand in places you don’t want sand.” She smiled. “No pressure. Just… be nice if you were there.”

Nova held her gaze for a second longer than necessary, then gave a faint smile. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Phoenix nodded, clearly not expecting more. “Hope you do.”

As the room cleared out, Nova turned for the door, already sinking into the hum of thoughts buzzing behind her eyes when—

“Nova,”

She paused at the sound of her name—his voice. Low. Steady. Familiar in a way she wasn’t ready to admit. Nova turned, only to find Jake Seresin catching up to her, hands tucked in his flight suit pockets.

He stopped a few paces from her, close but not too close. “You should come tonight.”

Nova let out a light breath, the kind that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I don’t know if I’m up for a party.”

“It’s not a party,” he said. “It’s just… a few friends. Fire. Ocean. Beer in a cooler that someone probably forgot to chill.”

She looked at him. Jake’s voice dipped lower, less playful now. “They don’t see you differently. Not after what happened. Not after what she said.”

Her brow lifted, . “You reading minds now?”

Jake smirked. “Just observant.”

The air shifted. Nova blinked, surprised that he could read her that well. Surprised at how much it meant that he had.

She stared at the floor for a moment before looking back at him. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll come.”

Jake’s smile was subtle, warm. “I’ll pick you up.”

The sky was dusky when Nova stepped outside later that evening, wind teasing strands of her hair as Jake closed the truck door after her.

“You good?” he asked once he’d turned to face her.

Nova breathed in slowly, watching the horizon. “Yeah,” she said. “I think so.”

Jake didn’t press. He just lead her to the beach, the silence between them easy.

The bonfire flickered ahead, golden light dancing over the sand. Figures moved in silhouette — Phoenix, Rooster, Bob, Coyote — their voices rising in laughter as Jake and Nova approached.

Phoenix was the first to notice. “Hey!” she called, lifting her drink. “Look who showed!”

Nova smiled, a real one this time, and let herself be pulled into a brief hug. Bob gave her a quiet nod, voice warm. “Glad you came.”

Nova settled between them on the sand, the fire crackling in front of them. Jake took a seat directly across from her, his gaze brushing hers before dropping to the flame.

Coyote told some dramatic reenactment of a near-miss landing, Rooster exaggerated every detail of Maverick’s flight drills, and Phoenix snorted into her drink more than once. Laughter came easier than Nova expected. The fire warmed more than just her skin. For a while, it was enough.

Then the stories faded. The group fell into a comfortable lull, only the surf and the crackle of fire filling the air.

Nova looked at the flames, then up at the circle around her. Their faces were relaxed, open. Trusting. She felt it in her chest — the ache, the weight, the question of when she would stop running from it. So she sat forward.

“There’s something I want to say.”

The words silenced everything. Even the waves felt quieter. Jake straightened slightly, eyes fixed on her. Phoenix looked over, brows raised but gentle. Nova kept her voice calm. Controlled.

“What Tiffany said… it wasn’t wrong. Just… wrong of her to say it.” She glanced at the fire. “His name was Grayson Hayes. He flew with me. Strike Six. We were together for years.” Her hand shifted slightly on her knee, fingers tightening. “We were engaged.”

No one spoke. Not because they didn’t know what to say, but because they were letting her say it.

“He was smart. Steady. Made coffee wrong every single morning. Left his gear everywhere. Loved the ocean. Always told me I looked good in black, which—” she gave a weak laugh, gesturing to her usual attire, “—was convenient for both of us.”

Phoenix’s smile was tight, glassy at the corners.

“We flew together on every mission for three years. He saved my life more than once. I tried to save his. But…” Nova exhaled slowly. “You don’t always get to rewrite endings.”

She looked down, then up again, meeting each of their gazes in turn.

“I didn’t tell anyone because… it’s mine. And for a long time, it was all I had left of him.”

Jake watched her like she was the only person in the world. And in that moment, maybe she was.

Nova shrugged faintly, the motion brittle. “That’s it. That’s the truth.”

There was silence. Then Phoenix moved, resting a hand on Nova’s shoulder — steady, grounding. Bob gave a quiet nod. Rooster lifted his bottle.

“To Hayes,” he said. “And to the woman who carries his sky.”

Nova didn’t cry. Not then. But she smiled — small, and real.

Across the fire, Jake raised his drink too. His voice didn’t rise above the others. But his eyes never left her, and Nova knew — she had finally been seen.

[darlingyougotthis]

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Seven: The Cost of Jealousy

Tiffany sat at her desk in her office, the manila folder open on her lap like a secret confession.

The photo of Grayson stared back at her. Uniform perfect, smile clean, future intact—until it wasn’t. She ran her finger down the page once more, tracing the redacted lines, the ghost of Strike Six stamped across the top of the report.

She replied her conversation with Jake from the night before. She snapped the file closed. Tonight was the night. She was tired of waiting.

The Hard Deck was already alive with music and familiar noise by the time Tiffany arrived. From the front window, she could see the team crowded in their usual spot. She adjusted her dress—black, fitted, effortless—and walked in like she owned the night.

Then she saw them.

Jake and Nova stood off to the side, near the jukebox, laughing about something. Nova was holding a bottle loosely in one hand, her other hand reaching out to Jake’s arm as she made a point. It was innocent—barely a touch—but Jake smiled. Not politely. Not distantly. He smiled like she was the only person in the bar.

Tiffany’s nails dug into her palm as she stepped forward.

By the time she reached the table, the laughter faded. Jake looked up, surprised. Nova stepped back slightly.

“Hey,” Tiffany said brightly, sliding an arm through Jake’s. She kissed his cheek with practiced warmth. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

Jake gave her a nod, but he didn’t return the gesture. She noticed.

“Drinks?” she asked, already heading to the bar before anyone could offer.

At the bar, she ordered a wine and looked back.

Nova had returned to her seat beside Phoenix, but she leaned toward Jake as he said something. Her eyes sparkled, head tilted, and Jake—Jake—was watching her like gravity pulled him there.

Like Tiffany wasn’t in the room at all. The jealousy hit like fire under her skin. She returned to the table, all smiles, sliding back in beside Jake. She laughed at jokes, chimed in, leaned against his shoulder. But her eyes never stopped watching them.

And when Nova laughed—loud and real at something Rooster said—Jake’s smile lingered. That was it. Tiffany looked down at her drink. Her smile sharpened. Time to remind everyone just who they were dealing with.

She turned to Nova, her voice light as lace.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, Nova.”

Nova glanced over. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you’re so polished. So composed all the time. But we all have our ghosts, right?”

Nova blinked. “I suppose.”

Tiffany leaned forward a touch, voice just low enough for the table to catch it. “I just think it’s so brave. Hiding so much grief behind all that control. I don’t know how you do it.”

The table stilled. Jake looked up, tension tightening across his brow.

Tiffany continued, smile perfectly in place. “If I’d lost my fiancé like that—during a mission that no one could talk about—I don’t think I’d even get out of bed. Let alone be one of the best pilots in the program.”

Nova’s face went white. Phoenix straightened in her seat. Rooster stopped mid-sip. Even Bob set his glass down, slowly.

Jake’s voice was low. “What did you say?”

Tiffany turned to him, as innocent as a saint. “Oh! She didn’t tell you?”

Jake stared. “Fiancé?”

“Lieutenant Grayson Hayes,” Tiffany said with practiced ease. “Strike Six. KIA. About three years ago? The file’s not public, of course. But you know me. Intel.” She continued with a nonchalant shrug as she took a sip of her wine.

Nova stood slowly, her hand trembled just once as she set her half-finished beer on the table. No rebuttal. No defense. No outburst. Just quiet devastation. Jake stood, but Nova didn’t look back. She walked straight to the exit. The sound of the door closing behind her was louder than anything Tiffany had said.

Jake rounded on her.

“What the hell was that?”

Tiffany blinked. “What? You said you wanted honesty.”

“No,” Jake said, eyes blazing. “That wasn’t honesty. That was an ambush.”

“She kept it from everyone,” Tiffany argued.

“Because it was hers,” he snapped. “Not yours to throw out like gossip over drinks.”

“She’s not the person you think—”

Jake stepped back from her like the air around her was toxic.

“You don’t know her. And you sure as hell don’t know me.”

Tiffany’s face hardened. “So what, you’re running after her now?”

Jake didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. He was already gone.

The waves whispered like they knew. As if the ocean had been here long enough to learn how to hold grief gently.

Nova sat at the edge of the beach, legs pulled tight to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her gaze was distant—fixed somewhere far beyond the black horizon, where the stars hung too quietly.

The cold sand clung to her flight boots. Her eyes were red, lashes damp. She hadn’t wiped the tears; she let them fall, one after another, down wind-kissed cheeks.

Behind her, soft footsteps. She didn’t need to look. She felt him. Jake.

She didn’t turn. Didn’t move. Just whispered, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he said gently.

“I don’t want company.”

“I’m not here to talk.”

He stood beside her for a moment longer before lowering himself into the sand. He didn’t sit too close, didn’t push. He just… stayed.

The silence wrapped around them like a tide neither could stop. A hush broken only by the rhythm of the sea.

After a while, Nova lifted her head. Her breath caught in her throat as her fingers drifted to the base of her throat. She pulled out a thin silver chain hidden beneath the collar of her shirt.

The ring nestled there was delicate. A simple band. Understated. Beautiful.

She uncurled it into her palm and stared at it as it shimmered in the moonlight.

Jake watched. Quiet. Waiting.

“I met him at Strike Six,” Nova said finally. Her voice was calm, but frayed at the edges. “Grayson Hayes. He was cocky. Quiet, but not shy. The kind of man who only spoke when he meant it.”

She gave a soft, sad laugh. “He never called me Ava. Said it didn’t suit me. Said ‘Nova’ sounded like who I really was. Like someone impossible to forget.”

Jake glanced at her, but still said nothing.

“He wasn’t the loudest. Wasn’t the strongest. But when shit hit the fan, everyone looked to him. Including me.”

She rubbed her thumb over the curve of the ring.

“We weren’t supposed to fall in love. It’s not exactly encouraged when you’re being trained to vanish into the world. But it happened anyway. In the silence. In the in-betweens. He always brought me coffee before sunrise drills. Black with a sugar packet taped to the lid, because I liked the option.”

Jake’s throat worked, his eyes not leaving her.

“He proposed on a night I’ll never forget,” she said softly, eyes misting over with the memory. “We’d just gotten back from a brutal op. We were both exhausted, bruised, but somehow… at peace. He snuck me out onto the roof of our base—said he wanted to show me something.”

She smiled faintly.

“It was the stars. We used to sit up there sometimes, away from the noise, away from everything. Just the two of us. That night, he laid out a blanket, had two mugs of that awful powdered hot chocolate we used to joke about. I didn’t suspect a thing.”

Her fingers grazed the ring still resting in her palm.

“He took my hands, looked me dead in the eye, and said, ‘Nova, I’ve seen the way you walk into fire without flinching. I’ve seen you break and build yourself back up a hundred times. And every time, I love you more. I want to be the reason you come home. I want to be your quiet after the storm.’”

Her voice cracked just slightly.

“Then he pulled out the ring and said, ‘Marry me. Not because it’s safe or easy—but because it’s ours.’”

She shook her head, the tears coming again, soft and silent.

“He died two months later. We were deep into a high-risk op—standard recon, or so they said. But something went wrong. We split to cover more ground and… he didn’t come back.”

Jake looked down, jaw tight.

Nova swallowed hard, holding the ring tighter. “The debrief was two sentences. Mission incomplete. Hayes KIA. That was it.”

The wind carried the sound of the waves to their feet.

“I didn’t tell anyone when I transferred,” she murmured. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want it to be a story that followed me into every room.”

She turned her head toward Jake, finally meeting his gaze.

“It wasn’t about hiding him. It was about protecting what we had. It was ours.”

Jake’s eyes searched hers. “You loved him.”

“I still do.”

Her voice was steady now, quieter. “But you know what’s strange?”

He lifted his chin slightly.

“You remind me of him.”

Jake froze.

“Not because you’re the same,” she added quickly, eyes flicking down to the ring before returning to his. “You’re not. But you have… that same kind of steadiness. That way of anchoring everyone around you without saying much at all.”

Jake’s breath caught.

She offered him the faintest smile. “He’d have liked you.”

Jake didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He just sat beside her as she wiped her eyes and tucked the ring back beneath her shirt. She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t have to.

The stars stretched out over them in silence, unbothered and brilliant. The waves faded behind them, and the scent of salt clung to their clothes as they stepped off the sand and onto the quiet sidewalk.

Jake fell into step beside her, not saying much at first. His hands were in his pockets, her arms folded loosely across her chest.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said gently.

Nova paused. “What about your truck?”

Jake offered a small, sideways smile. “I think we both could use the walk.”

There was something in his tone—something unspoken but steady. Not pushing. Just offering. Nova looked at him for a long second before nodding.

They walked. The neighborhood was still. The occasional porch light flickered on in the distance. A soft wind blew through the palms above them, and Nova tilted her head back just slightly to catch a glimpse of the sky. There was peace here, in the quiet between them. In the rhythm of footsteps on pavement.

They didn’t say much, but when they did, it was light. Easy. A gentle reprieve from everything else.

Jake told a story about Coyote getting locked out of their shared room during training. Nova laughed softly and shook her head, teasing, “And they still let you fly jets?”

Jake grinned, nudging her shoulder with his. “Miracles happen.”

At one point, their hands brushed—barely a touch—and neither pulled away. But they didn’t grab hold either. It lingered like a question neither of them knew how to ask.

When they reached Nova’s front door, she turned to him, keys in hand.

“Do you wanna come in?” she asked softly. “Just for a bit. I know it’s late, I just…”

Jake didn’t let her finish. He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come in.”

Inside, her place was quiet and warm. Minimal but lived in—soft lighting, muted tones, no unnecessary clutter. Jake followed her into the kitchen as she filled two glasses of water.

She handed one to him with a soft, “Here.”

“Thanks,” he said, then glanced past her—something on the wall catching his attention.

A photo.

Nova followed his gaze.

The picture was slightly grainy, clearly candid. It showed two pilots in sleek black flight suits, jets behind them. One of them—Grayson—had his arms wrapped around Nova from behind, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. She was laughing. They both were.

Jake stepped closer, taking it in. There was something about it—the ease in their bodies, the joy in their faces.

“Is that Grayson?” he asked, his voice low.

Nova turned toward the frame, her smile tinged with something fonder now. “Yeah. That’s him.”

Jake studied it for a beat longer. “You both look so happy.”

“We were,” Nova whispered. Her fingers grazed the edge of the photo. “That was the last one we ever took together. We didn’t even know someone was taking it. One of the crew must’ve snapped it while we were messing around between drills.”

She looked down, thumb brushing the condensation on her glass.

“We had no idea what was ahead of us.”

Jake didn’t reply. He just let the moment settle.

She turned back to him. “Thank you. For walking me home. For… being here.”

Jake nodded slowly. “You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to.”

Another pause.

Then he spoke, the words tugged from somewhere deep.

“What she did tonight…” he hesitated, jaw clenching slightly. “Tiffany. I’m sorry. I had no idea she was capable of—of something like that. I’m furious, honestly. That she—”

Nova lifted a hand gently, shaking her head. “Jake. You don’t have to apologise for her.”

But he didn’t stop.

“No, I do,” he said. “That wasn’t just cruel. It was calculated. Cold. And completely out of line.”

Nova didn’t disagree.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes meeting his with quiet clarity. “It was cruel,” she admitted. “But… not entirely uncalled for.”

Jake blinked. The implication settled slowly, but when it did, he didn’t look away. He didn’t ask what she meant. He didn’t need to, because he knew.

The glances.

The teasing.

The quiet pull.

The way his eyes always found her—even when they shouldn’t.

Nova exhaled through her nose, her voice softer now. “We’ve been toeing a line we both knew was there.”

Jake looked at her for a long moment. There was no defensiveness in his posture. No denial. Just the storm of everything he couldn’t say.

“But I never meant to make things harder for you,” she added.

“You didn’t,” Jake replied, voice low. “You just… made me feel things I thought I’d buried.”

Nova’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering behind her eyes—but she didn’t press. She just nodded, and that was enough.

The moment lingered like the last light before dusk. Warm, fleeting, and unbearably delicate.

Tiffany sat at the kitchen table, legs crossed at the ankles, hands resting on the wooden table informs of her—too calm to be calm. The moonlight spilled across the floor like silver glass. Cold. Sharp.

The room was still.

Too still.

She’d thought it would feel better.

Nova hadn’t even fought back. No smart remark. No stormy stare. She’d just… shut down. Put the beer down. Walked away.

Shaken. Quiet. Wounded.

Tiffany should’ve felt victorious.

But she didn’t, because Jake had followed.

Not a second thought. Not a word to her. Just gone. And he still wasn’t home.

Tiffany’s jaw locked. The file she’d used to strike the match sat untouched on the dresser. She stared at it for a long moment. She hadn’t destroyed Nova. She’d exposed her and all it did was make Jake run straight to her.

The front door clicked shut.

Tiffany didn’t move from the kitchen table, where she sat with her arms folded tight across her chest. A single lamp glowed above her, casting long shadows down the hall.

Jake walked in, keys jangling in his hand, eyes tired, jaw tense.

“You waited up,” he said flatly, stating the obvious.

“I wanted to talk,” she replied, voice soft. Too soft. She stood slowly. “Jake, I—”

“Don’t,” he said. Not harsh. Just… done.

She froze. He looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time all night.

“What you did,” Jake said quietly, “wasn’t about Nova.”

Tiffany’s throat tightened. “I just thought you deserved to know.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You wanted to hurt her. And you didn’t care who you hurt in the process.”

Silence.

Tiffany stepped forward. “Jake, I—”

“I get it,” he interrupted. “You felt threatened. You lashed out. But what you said—how you said it—” He shook his head. “That wasn’t okay.”

Tiffany stepped forward. “So what, you’re running to her now?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He looked at her—really looked at her. Not with anger. Just with truth.

“I think somewhere along the line… we stopped being good for each other,” he said gently. “I didn’t want to admit it. But tonight… it just made things clearer.”

Tiffany’s eyes welled, but she blinked it back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “But this… isn’t working anymore. You know that.”

“So that’s it?” she whispered.

Jake nodded, quiet. “That’s it.”

He turned, “I’m gonna get some sleep.”

He turned, walked down the hallway, and disappeared into the dark. Tiffany didn’t call after him, because she knew.

This time, there was no fight left to win.

[darlingyougotthis]

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Six: The Spark Before The Burn

It was the kind of day the Navy rarely gifted—sun blazing, skies clear, no operations, no drills. The whole squad had been cut loose with one instruction: take a breath.

So they did.

The sand was warm beneath their feet. Waves crashed lazily against the shore as the team gathered at the far end of the beach, tucked beneath a stretch of palm trees and navy-issue umbrellas. A beat-up volleyball net flapped in the breeze, half-set by Rooster and Coyote as Payback rummaged through a cooler packed with beer and Gatorade.

Jake leaned against the back of a beach chair, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes as he sipped from a water bottle and watched the others settle in. His board shorts sat low on his hips, his dog tags resting against his chest, catching the morning light.

Across from him, Tiffany was already stretching out across a lounge chair, one leg crossed over the other, a pair of oversized designer sunglasses perched on her nose. Her black one-piece was sleek, expensive, and screamed effort. She tilted her chin toward the sun, flipping her glossy brown hair over one shoulder.

Nova arrived late.

She walked down the beach alone, barefoot, a lightweight white linen shirt fluttering over a butter yellow bikini. Her golden hair was pulled into a loose braid that framed her face, and dark sunglasses shielded her eyes. She looked sun-kissed, effortless, like the beach had been made for her.

Every head turned. A whistle sounded. Rooster muttered something under his breath that made Payback chuckle. Even Bob did a double take. But it was Jake’s reaction that Tiffany clocked immediately.

He didn’t leer. Didn’t gape. He just watched. Sat forward slowly, arms resting on his knees, beer dangling forgotten in one hand. His gaze tracked her like gravity—like instinct. He didn’t blink.

“Strike Six, reporting for beach ops,” Phoenix muttered with a grin.

Nova raised one hand in greeting, her smile easy and sunlit. “Sorry I’m late,” she called.

“You’re forgiven,” Rooster said, already grinning like an idiot.

Coyote nodded. “Definitely forgiven.”

“You look great,” Bob said, his ears slightly pink as he looked away politely.

Nova laughed softly. “Sand and saltwater tend to help.”

Jake finally found his voice. “Glad you made it.”

She glanced at him briefly, her smile lingering just a little longer. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

That smile alone was enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

Tiffany, still seated, slid her sunglasses down her nose just enough to get a better look. Her eyes scanned Nova from head to toe before settling back on her face. Her smile was tight. Too perfect.

“You clean up well,” Tiffany said, tone silky-sweet. “You always make such an entrance,” she said, voice smooth. “Is that a skill they teach at Strike Six? Or just a happy side effect of knowing everyone’s already looking?”

The silence that followed wasn’t loud—but it cut sharp. Jake started to shift, mouth opening— But Nova beat him to it.

She reached up and slid her sunglasses down, revealing calm, crystalline eyes that locked with Tiffany’s without blinking. Her voice was warm. Steady. Kind.

“It’s not about being seen,” she said. “It’s about showing up when it counts.”

Rooster looked away with a barely disguised snort. Phoenix’s mouth dropped open. Even Payback froze mid-beer sip. Jake chuckled under his breath—quiet, but honest.

Tiffany’s smile didn’t budge—but her eyes tightened just a little around the corners. “Of course. You’d know.”

Nova gave her a polite nod and turned toward the shoreline. As she walked, she tugged her shirt over her head in one fluid motion, folding it with casual grace before setting it on a towel. She joined Phoenix before the two strolled to the shoreline, wading ankle-deep, laughing as the surf lapped at their toes.

Jake couldn’t help himself. He watched every step. Every move. Every smile.

He watched her walk away, watched the curve of her smile, the braid brushing against her shoulder as she flicked a small splash of seawater toward Phoenix. It wasn’t lust—not just that. It was something steadier, heavier. Something he couldn’t name.

There was something about her—something quieter than confidence, sharper than charm. She didn’t need the attention she received. She didn’t ask for it. But when she walked into a room, the atmosphere changed.

He didn’t know how she did that.

Or maybe he did.

He wasn’t the only one watching. Tiffany tracked him tracking Nova. She didn’t speak. But her mouth tightened ever so slightly as she sat back down beside Jake, her fingers toying with her wrap. “She seems comfortable here,” she said.

Jake blinked out of his haze. “Yeah. I guess she fits in.”

“Hmm.” Tiffany popped her sunglasses back down over her eyes. “Almost like she’s been circling long enough to know when to strike.”

Jake turned to look at her, brow furrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said with a small smile. “Just an observation.”

Rooster called out from the net, waving at Jake. “Seresin, get your ass over here. You and me against Phoenix and Nova!”

Jake stood, brushing the sand from his legs. “Duty calls.”

Tiffany reached for his hand, catching it as he turned. “Try not to let her distract you too much.”

Her words were light.

Her tone was not.

Jake hesitated. Then smiled—small, unreadable—and pulled away to jog toward the net.

The volleyball game was chaos.

Phoenix was merciless. Rooster couldn’t stop grinning. And Nova? Nova moved like she’d been built for sand—quick, agile, fearless. She spiked the ball like it owed her something and laughed when Jake flubbed a dig and ended up flat on his back, staring at the sky.

Jake laughed too, breathless. “You’re ruthless.”

Nova grinned down at him. “You’re slow.”

He shook his head as he stood, brushing sand from his arms. “I’m distracted.”

“You should work on that,” she said, tossing him the ball. “We’re not in the air now.”

But her eyes lingered a little too long on his and something unspoken pulsed in the space between them.

Rooster groaned. “Less flirting, more playing!”

“Who’s flirting?” Nova called, spinning the ball on her palm.

Jake smirked. “That’s her being professional.”

The beach had begun to soften with evening.

The laughter had dulled to warm murmurs, replaced by the sizzle of the last few burgers and the rustle of wind through the palms. A golden haze settled over everything—sky streaked pink and orange, waves curling gently toward the shore.

Jake stood near the edge of the volleyball court, finishing a bottle of water, sweat drying on his skin. The game had long since broken up. Phoenix and Rooster were arguing over scorekeeping, Bob had retreated to his book, and Tiffany had taken up a position beneath one of the umbrellas, sunglasses back in place, legs stretched like they were on display.

Jake glanced down the sand and saw Nova.

She was standing alone, a few feet from the surf, her braid loosened now, a towel slung over her shoulder. Her white shirt fluttered in the breeze, catching light as it clung to damp skin. She was watching the tide like it had something to say. Before he could stop himself, Jake started walking.

She didn’t turn when he approached. Just spoke softly, voice barely louder than the waves.

“Do you always stare at the ocean like it’s got answers?”

Jake stopped beside her, burying his hands in his pockets. “Only when I’ve run out of my own.”

Nova smiled faintly. “Dangerous game.”

“Maybe.” He nudged a pebble with his foot. “Or maybe I’m just hoping it tells me what the hell is going on with me.”

Nova’s gaze slid toward him. “Everything alright, Lieutenant?”

He let out a soft breath. “That’s the thing. I don’t know.”

For a few moments, they stood in silence. The wind tugged at her braid. His hand brushed his jaw.

Finally, Nova looked back at the water. “You ever feel like you’re… stepping out of your own skin? Like you’re doing everything right, saying all the right things—but underneath, you’re just waiting to mess it all up?”

Jake turned to her. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I feel that way a lot more lately.”

She glanced at him, eyes curious.

He hesitated. Then added, “Since you got here.”

Nova’s expression shifted, barely. A flicker of something she didn’t say.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Jake said quickly. “Just… different. You make things different.”

Nova looked back at the ocean. “I didn’t come here to cause trouble.”

“I know.” He paused. “You didn’t. Not really.”

“Still,” she said, brushing a hand across her chest, fingertips resting briefly over where her necklace lay hidden beneath the fabric. “Sometimes trouble doesn’t need help arriving.”

Jake watched her closely. He wanted to ask about the necklace. About what it meant—what she was always holding onto when she thought no one noticed. But he didn’t. He wasn’t sure he had the right to ask.

Nova looked up again. Her smile was gentle, careful. “You’re not what I expected, Jake.”

“Hangman, you mean?”

“No,” she said. “You.”

He swallowed. The moment hung there, full of things they weren’t allowed to say.

“I’m not trying to be anything,” he said finally. “Except maybe a little better than I was yesterday.”

Nova nodded slowly, her eyes tracing his features, lingering on the faint crease in his brow, the way his lips parted like he wanted to speak but didn’t know how.

They were closer now.

Close enough that he could see the flecks of silver near the edge of her blue eyes. Close enough to feel the warmth of her skin despite the breeze.

Then Nova exhaled, clearing the air with a small shake of her head. “You’re dangerous, Seresin.”

Jake smirked faintly. “You’re one to talk.”

His hand twitched at his side. He didn’t touch her. He wanted to.

They stood like that for another heartbeat. Maybe two.

She nudged his arm gently with her elbow, smile returning with a little more ease. “We should get back.”

“Probably.”

Neither of them moved immediately.

She turned first, walking back up the beach toward the rest of the group—toward the noise, the safety of distraction.

Jake stayed behind, watching her go.

It was only when he turned back toward the others that he noticed the dark silhouette under one of the palms. Tiffany. Watching. Her sunglasses were still on. Her posture was still perfect. But Jake had no doubt she’d seen every second, and beneath that gloss and posture— She was planning.

The car ride was silent.

Jake’s hands rested lightly on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead, but he wasn’t seeing the road. His mind was still on the water. On her laugh. On the faint scent of salt on Nova’s skin as she’d nudged his arm. On the way her voice had caught when she said I can’t.

Tiffany sat beside him, legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded across her chest. She didn’t speak. Didn’t glance his way. But the air between them was thick with something sharp—something she was choking on and he was pretending not to feel.

When he pulled into the driveway, she opened her door before the engine fully stopped. The slamming of it behind her felt like punctuation. Jake followed her inside, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door. The house was dim. Quiet. He tugged his shirt off as he walked toward the kitchen, reaching for a bottle of water, as if hydrating would somehow buy him time.

Tiffany stood in the living room, unmoving.

“You didn’t say a word the whole way back,” Jake muttered, cracking the cap open.

Neither did she.

Until she did.

Her voice was calm. Too calm.

“Do you have feelings for her?”

Jake froze.

The bottle stayed half-raised to his lips. His head turned slowly toward her.

“What?” he asked, like he hadn’t heard her—like if he gave her the chance, she might take it back.

Tiffany didn’t blink. Her arms dropped to her sides.

“Nova. Do you have feelings for her?”

Jake set the bottle down on the counter with a quiet thunk. His mouth opened. Closed.

He didn’t say no. He couldn’t say yes. So he said nothing. Tiffany laughed. Once. Bitterly.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Tiff—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, voice suddenly sharp. “Don’t give me some rehearsed line. I watched you. I watched you watching her. You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t see the way you orbit her without even realizing it?”

Jake stepped toward her, palms open. “I haven’t done anything.”

“But you want to,” she hissed. “You feel something for her. And that’s enough.”

He didn’t argue. He couldn’t. The silence confirmed everything she already knew.

Tiffany’s eyes glittered—not with tears, but something colder. Harder.

“Don’t follow me.”

She turned and stormed down the hall. The slam of the bedroom door echoed through the house like a gunshot. Jake winced, rubbing a hand over his face as he leaned against the counter, chest heavy, mouth dry.

In the bedroom, Tiffany paced. Her blood burned beneath her skin.

The crack in her composure had finally split open, and now everything bled out. The image of Nova on the beach, laughing. Her perfect braid. That damned easy grace. The way she’d looked at Jake like she knew him. Like she understood him. It made Tiffany sick. She stormed to the dresser and yanked open the bottom drawer—the one she’d kept locked, hidden.

From beneath layers of carefully folded t-shirts and silence, she pulled out the manila folder she wasn’t supposed to have. The one she’d stolen from Naval Intelligence after hours, when no one was looking and everyone assumed her smile meant compliance.

She flipped it open.

Lieutenant Grayson “Ace” Hayes. Strike Six.

Engaged to: Lieutenant Ava “Nova” Brooke.

KIA: three years ago.

Top clearance. Mission classified. Details redacted. But there it was. Black ink. Cold facts.

A tragedy that Nova wore like armor—and hid like sin. Tiffany stared at the photo paper-clipped to the front. A clean-cut man with sharp eyes and a smile too good for what came next.

She let her fingers trail down the page.

Then curled them into a fist.

“She wants to keep this quiet…” she whispered.

A smile curled at the corner of her mouth. Cruel. Icy. Satisfied.

“Well, let’s see how long that lasts.”

[darlingyougotthis]

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter 5: Close Calls

The morning sun stretched long and low across the tarmac, casting golden light across rows of jets that glinted under its touch. The air was already warm, the smell of jet fuel lingering faintly in the breeze, and the rhythmic thump of boots echoed as pilots made their way to the hangar.

Nova walked with quiet confidence, her black boots steady on the concrete, her eyes sharp behind her sunglasses. Her long blonde hair was tied up tight, a few wisps falling loose in the breeze. She wore her flight suit half-zipped, tank visible beneath, and despite the calm expression on her face, something flickered in her eyes—a softness, a shadow.

She didn’t head toward the squad right away.

Instead, she slowed by her Top Gun jet—her assigned jet. Name and Callsign painted on the side. Her gloved fingers ran gently along its sleek metallic frame, her touch reverent. She stepped closer, leaned in slightly, and her lips moved with a whisper meant for no one but the wind.

“Stay with me,” she murmured, pressing her palm softly to the jet’s hull, then to her chest—where beneath layers of fabric, a delicate silver chain rested, hidden. At the end of that chain hung a simple ring—thin, silver, with a small diamond. Elegant. Quiet. It had once sparkled on her left hand. Now, it never left her neck.

“Morning,” a voice said behind her, low and warm.

Nova startled slightly, hand dropping from her chest. She turned to find Jake standing there, hands in his pockets, sunlight catching in his tousled hair. His eyes were already on her—not her flight suit, not the jet. Her.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said with a crooked smile.

Nova returned it, though there was still something behind her eyes. “You didn’t. I was just… zoning out.”

Jake tilted his head, studying her a second longer than he should have. “You okay?”

She blinked, straightening, all warmth sliding effortlessly back into her voice. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the moment was clipped as Rooster’s palm slapped his shoulder.

“There you two are,” Rooster grinned, oblivious to the tension. “You’re in for a hell of a day. Maverick’s already talking about barrel rolls and precision drills before lunch. It’s gonna be brutal.”

Nova smirked. “You complaining already, Lieutenant?”

Rooster threw his hands up. “Just mentally preparing myself for the humiliation.”

Jake chuckled, but his gaze hadn’t strayed far from Nova. Not really. He’d noticed it the second she turned—how her smile reached her lips, but not quite her eyes. He didn’t know why, but it sat heavy in his chest.

“Pilots,” Maverick’s voice called from a few yards away. “Let’s move. We’re wheels up in fifteen.”

Rooster gave a mock salute before heading toward his jet, leaving Jake and Nova still standing side by side.

She adjusted her glove, and Jake glanced at her. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked again, softer this time.

Nova nodded. “Yeah. Just… flying clears the noise, you know?”

Jake nodded slowly, then gave her a small, crooked grin. “Well, don’t leave me in your jet wash out there. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Nova gave him a side glance, her lips twitching. “Try to keep up, Hangman.”

Jake stepped backward slowly, a spark flickering in his eyes. “Oh, I’ll keep up. The question is whether you’ll be too distracted by me to notice.”

Nova didn’t flinch—but her smile curved just a little sharper, her eyes narrowing with amusement. “You wish.”

Jake winked before turning and heading to his jet, the heat from his body still lingering in the air between them.

Nova watched him walk away, then looked back at her jet. She exhaled slowly, then touched her chest once more—where the ring rested, cool and silent, against her skin.

“I’m trying,” she whispered.

And then she climbed into the cockpit.

The sky welcomed them like it knew their names.

Two jets carved their way through the early light—graceful, fast, and deliberate. One marked by years of reputation. The other… by instinct. Nova’s Strike Six discipline shone through every maneuver. Her moves were precise, fluid—almost poetic. But what surprised Jake wasn’t just how flawlessly she flew. It was how naturally he synced to her rhythm. They weren’t just in formation—they were in tune.

“Try not to fall behind, Hangman,” Nova’s voice teased through comms, light and steady as she twisted into a tight roll.

Jake’s smirk was instant beneath his helmet.

“I could fly blind and still keep up with you.”

“Now that I’d like to see.”

Their jets dove in tandem, slicing downward before snapping into a mirrored climb. From the ground, it was mesmerizing—two pilots locked in a dance, their aircrafts extensions of thought, instinct, breath.

On the tarmac, Rooster stood frozen, watching the sky. “I mean… does she even think before she moves?”

Phoenix, arms folded, muttered, “Nope. She just knows. But so does Jake…”

Maverick didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His eyes followed every shift, every turn. He saw what most people didn’t: the way Jake flew looser beside her, more responsive. Trusting her lead without hesitation.

“Break right?” Jake asked.

“Already on it,” Nova answered.

They moved like magnets, energy circling and snapping back together again. A sharp inversion. A synchronized barrel roll. A textbook crisscross. They executed it all with barely a breath between them.

Nova’s voice came through the final stretch, a little softer now.

“You’re not so bad, Seresin.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me,” he shot back.

“You’d never survive it.”

The wheels hit the tarmac in perfect unison, jets slowing in parallel. Dust curled behind them as they taxied in. The ground crew waved them in with slack-jawed awe. One of them muttered, “Damn…”

Jake climbed out of the cockpit first, pulling off his helmet as Nova dismounted with ease beside him. Her cheeks were flushed from the adrenaline, blonde hair slightly tousled, eyes burning bright.

Maverick walked toward them with an approving nod. “Good flying. That was damn near flawless.”

Nova shrugged a little, unzipping her flight suit halfway. “Guess we’re just well matched.”

Jake looked over at her, catching the edge of her smirk. “We make a good team.”

She tilted her head. “Don’t let it go to your head, Hangman.”

And then she nudged him—playful, light—and walked past him toward the hangar, her stride easy, confident. Jake turned to watch her without meaning to, lips tugging into a grin he didn’t bother hiding.

High above, in the glass-paneled observation room, Tiffany stood with her arms loosely folded. Her gaze wasn’t on the jets. It was on the man watching another woman walk away.

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But the knot in her chest twisted tighter.

Nova didn’t just fly well. She fit. With the pilots. With the team. With Jake. Tiffany’s eyes narrowed slightly. A smile curled onto her lips—but it was ice, not warmth.

Keep smiling, Nova, she thought. Let’s see how long it lasts.

Later that day, the observation room was quiet, bathed in soft amber light as the sun dipped low behind the runway. Nova stood by the wide window, her arms folded, gaze fixed on the tarmac. Jets were being towed into their hangars, their silhouettes framed by the pink-hued sky. She didn’t move, barely blinked. She was still in her flight suit, unzipped to her sternum with the sleeves knotted around her waist, black tank hugging her frame.

The silence felt heavier here. Like the air had weight. Like the echoes of things unspoken hung around her like mist. She didn’t hear the door open behind her.

Jake paused when he saw her. Something about the way she stood, so still and focused, made him stop. He watched her for a moment longer than he should have, something tightening in his chest.

He stepped forward softly. “Didn’t think anyone else would be up here.”

Nova blinked, then glanced over her shoulder, relaxing slightly when she saw him. “Just thinking through a few things.”

Jake tilted his head. “Anything I should worry about?”

She looked up at him, eyes catching his with a flicker of something unspoken. “Not unless you’re afraid of being outflown.”

He grinned. “Darlin’, I’m not afraid of much. But you? You make me nervous.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Nova blinked, and her smile softened into something closer to real. “That so?”

Jake scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-aware. “Didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Nova turned toward him fully, her voice quieter. “But you did.”

There was a pause. A long one.

He shifted, and for a second—just a second—their shoulders brushed. Neither of them moved. Her head tilted toward him almost imperceptibly. Jake stepped forward, only slightly, but it was enough to close the gap. Nova didn’t move. Her pulse flickered beneath her skin like lightning behind clouds. Silence returned.

Jake’s eyes dropped—not by intention, not with malice. Just… instinct. First to her mouth, then up again to meet her eyes. Nova’s breath caught. She felt it—the magnetism of the moment pulling her toward him like gravity. Her gaze flicked down, just once, before she stopped herself.

Her voice came quiet. “Jake…”

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

“We can’t,” Nova said, barely above a whisper. “You’re with someone.”

Jake exhaled, slow and ragged. “I know.”

She lingered one second longer than she should have before walking toward the door. His fingers flexed at his side, resisting the urge to reach for her. As she passed, her hand brushed his, not quite accidental. She didn’t look back.

Jake exhaled hard once he was alone. Goddamn.

Tiffany has come looking for Jake—not because she missed him, not really. She just didn’t trust the way he’d been lately. Distant. Distracted. Eyes drifting places they didn’t belong. So when she spotted Nova walking the opposite way down the hall, flushed and clearly rattled, Tiffany slipped into the shadows just around the corner and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long. Jake appeared seconds later, emerging from the same corridor Nova had. His brows were drawn together, lips slightly parted like he’d just come out of something he wasn’t ready to leave. He stood still for a moment, staring down the hallway Nova had vanished into.

Tiffany watched everything—the tension in his shoulders, the unsettled flicker in his expression, the way he breathed like he was steadying himself.

She saw it. All of it.

A slow smile curled on her lips, soft and saccharine. She stepped into the hall, casual, as if she hadn’t seen a damn thing.

“Hey, babe,” she said sweetly, brushing her fingers along Jake’s arm. “Been looking for you.”

Jake nodded, eyes flicking to the floor. “Just… got caught up in my head.”

Tiffany smiled sweetly. “Thinking about the flight?”

Jake’s answer was quick. Too quick. “Yeah.”

Liar.

She took his hand. “Let’s go.”

As they walked, she kept the smile on her lips, but inside, her mind was already working.

Nova Brooke. Strike Six. Pretty. Polished. Mysterious. Too perfect. But everyone has a weak point. A pressure point. And I have hers.

When they reached Jake’s truck, he opened the door for Tiffany like always. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He didn’t flinch. But he didn’t lean into it either.

“You okay? You look a little… distracted.”

Jake gave a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

There it is. That little crack. That shift. That weakness. All it took was one blonde-haired, blue-eyed mystery girl with a ghost behind her smile.

Jake circled to the driver’s side. His heart was still somewhere in that hallway, still caught in a look, still tangled in a whisper.

He started the engine and pulled away, but his mind wasn’t behind the wheel.

Not really.

[darlingyougotthis]

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Four: She Owns The Sky

The sun hadn’t fully crested over the horizon yet, leaving the runway washed in soft amber light, still and quiet. Most of the base was asleep, or at least not awake enough to notice the two jets taxiing toward the far end of the flight line—one familiar, the other… not.

Nova climbed the ladder to her aircraft with practiced grace, her Strike Six flight suit clinging to her like a second skin, dark and unmarked but for the sleek black-and-silver patch stitched above her heart. The insignia shimmered faintly as she moved, the ghost badge no one outside the highest levels ever truly got to see. Until now.

“Didn’t expect to see this thing again anytime soon,” she said as she reached the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder.

Maverick stood nearby, arms crossed, aviators already in place. He smirked. “You’ll keep sharper if you stay in practice. This jet’s got your blood in it.”

Nova ran a hand over the nose of the aircraft, fingers brushing like it was something sacred. “You pulled strings.”

“I pulled orders,” he corrected. “TopGun wants the best. I want to see what Strike Six taught you when you’re not holding back.”

Nova looked down at him. “You sure?”

Maverick gave her a look. “Hit the sky, Nova.”

By the time they were airborne, the rest of the base was just beginning to stir.

Jake ran a hand through his hair as he and Rooster walked toward the hangar, coffee cups in hand. Phoenix and Coyote were a few paces behind, still trading half-awake jabs. The sound of engines overhead made them all pause.

Rooster tilted his head. “You hear that?”

Jake glanced up—and stopped walking.

Two jets cut through the rising sun, arcing in wide, calculated loops. One was Maverick. The other—

“What the hell is that?” Phoenix asked, squinting.

Jake didn’t answer. He already knew.

Nova’s jet banked hard and fast, the wings slicing the sky with impossible precision. She flipped into a roll, sharp as a blade, then dropped into a dive that looked reckless until the last second—when she pulled out so smoothly it felt choreographed.

She moved like her jet was a part of her. Not flying it—being it.

Coyote gave a low whistle. “That’s her?”

“That’s her,” Jake said, voice quiet.

Rooster blinked. “Strike Six built a damn assassin.”

They watched as Maverick tried to follow, tried to mimic the same angle on the next pass—but he came out of the maneuver too wide. Clean. Skilled. But not what Nova had done.

“She’s not just reacting,” Phoenix said, eyes narrowed. “She’s anticipating.”

Jake didn’t speak. His gaze hadn’t left Nova’s jet once. She looped again, tighter this time. One engine pulsed as she tilted into a slide that danced the edge of gravity before leveling out.

“Holy shit,” Coyote muttered.

Jake stepped forward unconsciously, his coffee forgotten. She was untouchable up there. Not because she was arrogant. Not because she was flashy because she was free.

Every move, every angle—flawless. Like she’d trained for war in silence. Like the sky was the only place she could breathe and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

The Strike Six jet touched down like a shadow—smooth, clean, deliberate. No jolt. No hesitation. Just the quiet roar of precision. Even the engines sounded different—darker, more dangerous somehow. As if they were tuned to a different frequency entirely.

Jake, Rooster, Phoenix, and the others stood on the edge of the tarmac, shielding their eyes against the rising sun as the jet coasted into place. Maverick’s aircraft landed a beat behind, steady but slower. The contrast wasn’t lost on anyone.

Coyote gave a low whistle. “Never seen a jet move like that. Looks like it was built for war.”

Phoenix nodded slowly. “You don’t fly a machine like that unless you’ve earned it.”

Jake didn’t say a word. He couldn’t. His eyes hadn’t left the jet for a second.

Then the cockpit opened.

The canopy slid back with a hydraulic hiss, and Nova climbed out. Her flight suit was black—sleek and sculpted, every line of it designed for movement and speed. No squadron colors. No frills. Just the sharp, tactical authority of a pilot who didn’t need to prove anything.

On the side of the jet, just below the cockpit, bold white lettering read:

LT. AVA “NOVA” BROOKE

STRIKE SIX

Jake felt the air punch out of his lungs.

Nova descended the ladder like it was muscle memory, unhurried and in complete command. Her boots hitting the concrete like punctuation. She didn’t scan for reactions. She didn’t need to. Confidence rolled off her in waves—quiet, unshakable, earned.

“Jesus,” Rooster muttered under his breath. “That’s a hell of a welcome.”

Phoenix grinned. “Told you she wasn’t just stories.”

“Yeah, well,” Coyote added, nudging Jake, “your jaw’s on the ground, man.”

Jake didn’t answer. He was watching her like she was still flying.

Nova stepped over to the group, eyes scanning them. Calm. Professional. But not cold. She pulled off her helmet and ran a hand through her tousled blonde hair, the early morning light catching in it like gold. She looked radiant. Untouchable. Realer than myth—and more dangerous.

Rooster was the first to approach. “Alright, Ghost. Gotta admit—that was something else.”

Phoenix followed. “That jet’s got bite. Looks good on you.”

Nova gave a small smile, brushing a hand down the curve of the aircraft. “She’s home.”

Fanboy grinned. “Is it weird if I say the flight suit’s kind of terrifying and hot at the same time?”

Nova raised a brow, amused. “Only if you say it twice.”

Laughter rippled through the group, and for a second, it felt easy. Natural. Like she’d always been one of them.

“That’s gotta be the most dangerous-looking aircraft I’ve ever seen,” Rooster added, half in awe, half in disbelief.

Jake didn’t speak. His eyes didn’t leave her—not even as she turned back to her jet, hand running across the cool metal near her name.

“Yeah,” she said softly, half to herself, half to them. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Jake’s voice was quiet but firm behind her.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“She is.”

Nova turned, eyes meeting his.

And everything stilled.

It wasn’t long—maybe a second. Maybe less. But it crackled in the air between them. Like they both knew exactly what he meant. Like the compliment had nothing to do with her aircraft.

Nova felt her pulse trip in her chest. Jake didn’t look away and then, just as quickly, she did.

Her lips curved into a subtle, controlled smile. She turned back toward the jet. “Thanks,” she murmured, voice steady.

Phoenix caught the exchange. Her smirk was immediate.

The tension simmered, unspoken.

The hangar was quiet, dimly lit by overhead lights casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Nova stood near the nose of her jet, running her hand along the matte-black surface like she was grounding herself. Her Strike Six flight suit still hugged her frame, the patch over her heart almost glowing under the lights.

Jake spotted her from the doorway. He should’ve kept walking, but his feet didn’t listen.

Nova didn’t turn when he approached. “You gonna just stand there or say something, Hangman?”

His smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t want to interrupt the love affair.”

She glanced over her shoulder, the smallest smile curling on her lips. “She’s been with me longer than most people.”

Jake stepped closer, gaze drifting over the jet, then to her. “Yeah, well… the way you two move together up there—it’s something else.”

Nova looked over at him, blue eyes unreadable but faintly amused. “Strike Six training,” she said simply.

Jake let his gaze linger on her face a second longer than necessary. “Nah,” he said. “That was more than training.”

He paused.

“You fly like you’re dancing,” he added. “Like your body knows what’s next before your mind does.”

Nova leaned against the side of the aircraft, still facing it. “Strike Six teaches precision. Awareness. Trust.”

“You make it look easy.”

“It’s not.”

Jake let his fingers brush the wing just beside hers. “No. It’s not. But you flew like you were reading the sky. Like you already knew what was coming.”

Nova didn’t respond right away.

Then: “It’s a lot of hours. A lot of losses. You stop guessing. You just feel it.”

Jake looked at her. “Still… that was the cleanest flight I’ve ever seen.”

She finally met his eyes. “You weren’t bad either.”

He chuckled softly. “Careful, Brooke. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Seresin.”

Their smiles lingered—just long enough to become something else. Something heavier. Quieter.

Jake took a breath, something forming in his chest that felt suspiciously like want.

Then her shoulder brushed his arm as she shifted. The touch was light. Barely there. But it echoed.

Nova’s voice dropped slightly. “You really think I fly like I’m dancing?”

He swallowed. “Yeah. And I’ve never wanted to join the dance more than I did today.”

Her breath caught. Just slightly. She looked down, away, eyes fixed on her boots.

And then—

Buzz.

Jake’s phone lit in his pocket.

Tiffany: You said you’d be back by now. Where are you?

The spell broke.

Nova straightened, pulling her hand from the wing. “You should get that.”

Jake didn’t move for a second. Then he sighed, stepping back. “Yeah.”

He looked at her once more, his voice softer now. “You’re good, Nova. Better than good.”

She gave him a look that flickered—gratitude, restraint, maybe something more. “So are you. But I think you already know that.”

Jake lingered another second, like he wanted to say something else. But didn’t. Then he walked out, and Nova stood alone beside her jet, pulse still elevated, fighting the echo of something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

The apartment was dim when he walked in. Soft lamp light spilled across the living room, casting golden hues over Tiffany’s legs as she sat curled on the couch, sipping from a glass of wine. She looked up the moment Jake entered, eyes sharp beneath the practiced warmth of her smile.

“There you are,” she said casually. “Thought you’d be home hours ago.”

Jake set his keys on the counter. “Got sidetracked.”

Tiffany arched a brow. “Debrief?”

“Among other things.”

She hummed like it was nothing, but he knew that hum. It had weight. She uncrossed her legs and turned to face him, wine glass still in hand.

She tilted her head. “Let me guess—Strike Six’s crown jewel took to the sky?”

He glanced up, mildly surprised. “You heard?”

“Word gets around,” Tiffany said with a soft laugh. “You pilots aren’t exactly quiet when you’re impressed.”

Jake dropped his duffel by the door and kicked off his boots. “Maverick had Nova run some drills…”

Tiffany hummed and sipped her wine. “Nova.”

He didn’t notice the way her mouth tightened around the name.

“She flew her Strike Six jet,” Jake added, almost absentmindedly. “Thing moves like it’s wired into her spine. She was—” He stopped himself. “It was impressive.”

“Mm,” Tiffany murmured. “Impressive. That’s one word for it.”

Jake looked over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing bad,” she said quickly, waving her hand as if the thought barely mattered. “Just—people from teams like that… they’re not really meant to blend in, are they? Always a little mysterious. Always a little… unreachable. That kind of mystery can be addictive.”

He frowned, not quite catching her tone, but sensing the shift.

“She’s not trying to be unreachable,” he said. “She just does her job. Better than most.”

Tiffany’s smile didn’t waver. “Of course. It must be exhilarating—flying like that. No one knowing who you really are. Just a blur on the radar and then gone.”

She leaned back on the couch, voice honey-sweet. “You talk about her a lot lately.”

Jake hesitated for a second. “She’s new. Everyone’s talking about her.”

“Mm,” she murmured. “Right.”

Jake finished the rest of his water in a single swallow.

Tiffany rose, moving toward him with a soft hum. She placed a hand on his chest—light, casual, rehearsed—and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m heading to bed,” she said quietly, her lips brushing his skin. “Don’t stay up too long, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jake said, but his voice was distant.

She smiled again, the perfect picture of the supportive girlfriend. Then turned and disappeared into the bedroom, her bare feet silent against the hardwood.

Jake stayed by the counter. One hand rested on the cool granite, his gaze fixed on nothing.

He could still see Nova, high above the clouds, moving like wind wrapped in steel and fire and his heart had raced. Not because of the danger.

But because of her.

The silence in Nova’s house felt louder than usual.

Nova sat on the edge of her bed, knees drawn up, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, strands curling around her face.

The moonlight poured in through the open curtains, bathing the room in silver. She reached under her collar and pulled the chain free from beneath her hoodie.

The ring slid down to rest against her hand.

A thin silver band. Delicate. A small diamond, no bigger than a tear. Simple. Elegant. Him. Nova held it in her palm, curling her fingers around it like a secret.

“Hey, Gray,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes. It had been so long since she’d said his name aloud. Since she’d let herself feel him this closely. The silence in the room was deafening.

She traced the diamond with her thumb. “I flew today,” she said softly. “In my jet. They had her brought in. Said it was to keep my training up to date, but… I think Maverick just wanted to see her in the air.”

She paused.

“I think he wanted to see me in action.”

Her throat tightened.

“I gave them a show, Gray,” she said with a watery smile. “I flew like I used to. Fast. Sharp. Free.” Her voice faltered. “And for the first time in years, I felt it again.”

She looked down, guilt already pressing in.

“The rush. The joy. That feeling of being alive.”

She swallowed. “And then I thought about you.”

Her eyes brimmed but didn’t fall. She didn’t cry like other people. She just… broke quietly.

“I thought about how you’d be smiling at me. That stupid proud grin you’d wear whenever I nailed a barrel roll, like it was a dream.”

She exhaled, blinking hard.

“I should’ve been yours. I still feel like I am.”

She curled her fingers around the ring and pressed it to her lips. The metal was cold, but it didn’t stop her voice from trembling.

“I think something’s changing in me. And I don’t want it to.”

She closed her eyes.

“I feel like I’m betraying you.”

Her voice cracked, just a little.

“There’s this… feeling,” she admitted. “And it’s not you. It’s not us. And that terrifies me.”

The tears slipped free this time — just two. Slow and silent.

“Because what does that mean? If I start to feel something for someone else? What does that make me?”

She opened her hand, gazing down at the band — still catching light, still beautiful.

“I didn’t want this,” she whispered. “I don’t want this.”

She lifted the ring to her lips again and kissed it — slowly, reverently — as though it were skin. As though it could kiss her back.

“I love you,” she said, barely breathing. “God, I still love you.”

Her heart stuttered against her ribs.

“You were the only person who ever saw me and didn’t flinch.”

Her voice cracked fully now. Raw. Frayed.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to let go. I don’t even know if I should.”

The silence swallowed her again. But this time, it didn’t feel so angry. Just… sad.

She lay back on the bed, still clutching the ring in her fist. The chain coiled gently in her hand like it belonged there. Her eyes fixed on the empty half of the bed and for the first time in years… she let herself miss him without trying to be strong.

[darlingyougotthis]

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter 3: The Moment Everything Tilted

The Hard Deck was buzzing—crowded for a midweek night. The jukebox cycled through Tom Petty and CCR, clinks of pool balls cracked over laughter, and the scent of spilled beer mixed with ocean breeze.

Jake leaned against the bar, beer in hand, Tiffany by his side. Her hand rested casually on his arm, her laugh just a little too loud. She always performed a little when the squad was around. He smiled when he was supposed to. Nodded on cue. But his focus was elsewhere.

He didn’t even realize he was looking for her until the door opened—and the room shifted.

A wave, a pause, a pull. That’s what she did. She entered and gravity changed. Nova walked waves loose around her shoulders. White tank, perfectly fitted jeans. Leather jacket slung over her shoulder. No makeup. No effort. Still, she looked like she belonged on a billboard.

Rooster let out a low whistle, shaking his head.

“Girl knows how to stop a room.”

Phoenix smirked, already sipping her drink. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

Rooster lifted his beer to his lips. “Not surprised. Just observant. And I’m not the only one.”

Rooster let out a low whistle and leaned toward Phoenix who followed his gaze to Jake—who hadn’t taken his eyes off Nova since she stepped through the door.

Tiffany noticed, too. Her fingers flexed subtly against Jake’s arm. But he didn’t feel it. His eyes were fixed on Nova as she crossed the bar, greeting Coyote with a light shoulder tap and tossing Rooster a grin.

“Hey, Flyboy,” she said.

Rooster grinned. “Hey, Ghost.”

She made her way to Phoenix and hugged her like they’d grown up together. It was easy, unforced. Real. And then she looked at Jake. He straightened slightly before he could stop himself.

“Evening, Hangman,” she said, her voice low and smooth, the corners of her lips tilted upward.

Jake’s smile was automatic. “Nova...”

That was all. Two simple words exchanged. But Tiffany felt it like a slap.

Nova drifted to the pool table with Rooster and Coyote, who were already chalking cues and arguing about rematch rules. Phoenix followed. The squad’s center of gravity shifted with her.

Tiffany pulled away from Jake with a sugary smile, brushing her fingers over his chest. “I’ll grab us drinks,” she said lightly. “Same as usual?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

As she walked away, her smile dimmed. But her eyes sharpened.

Rooster racked the balls, cocky as ever. “Alright, ghost girl. You talk a big game. Let’s see if Strike Six can hold a cue.”

Nova tilted her head. “Careful, Rooster. Confidence like that’s how you end up losing.”

Phoenix snorted. “She’s not wrong.”

Jake hovered nearby with Coyote, arms crossed as he watched her lean over the table. Her form was precise—like everything she did—fluid, focused. The cue cracked. Balls scattered. Two sank. Nova didn’t react.

“She’s got the half the bar watching and still no nerves,” Coyote muttered.

Jake didn’t say anything. He was too focused on how the light hit her hair, the shape of her smile as she lined up the next shot.

Rooster groaned as another solid dropped into a corner pocket. “Okay, that’s cheating.”

“I warned you,” Nova replied, not even glancing at him.

Jake laughed before he could stop himself. Tiffany, now returning with drinks, caught it. Her smile faltered for half a second before sliding back into place.

She handed Jake his beer and slid into place beside him, pressing close. “She’s… confident,” she said with a light tone. “Kind of theatrical, don’t you think?”

Jake didn’t respond. He was watching Nova laugh with Phoenix as Rooster groaned again in defeat.

“She’s just being herself,” he said finally, sipping his beer.

“Right,” Tiffany murmured, though her smile thinned.

Just as Nova circled the table for her final shot, a voice cut through the din.

“Strike Six, huh?” The guy was tall, broad-shouldered, with the swagger of someone who’d gotten by on charm and chin-ups alone. He sauntered over like he owned the place, beer in hand, eyes fixed on Nova’s patch. “That’s cute. Heard that’s more myth than mission.”

The words landed like a record scratch.

Jake’s head snapped toward him, jaw tensing. Rooster’s brows shot up. Phoenix lowered her drink halfway to her lips and just stared.

Nova didn’t even look at the guy. She straightened from the table, chalking her cue with slow precision.

Her voice was calm, cool. “Cute isn’t really what we go for,” she said, brushing past him to line up her next shot. “But I guess some people need fairy tales.”

Crack. Another ball sank.

The guy blinked, scoffing, clearly not used to being dismissed. He muttered something under his breath and backed off as the squad tried (and failed) not to laugh.

Rooster whistled. “Damn.”

Coyote chuckled. Phoenix just grinned, eyes lighting up with approval.

Jake? He was still watching Nova, something unnamable in his chest pulling tighter. Admiration flickered across his face before he could bury it—and Tiffany saw it. He didn’t even realize he was smiling until Tiffany spoke.

“She’s bold,” Tiffany said, the words sharp around the edges of her carefully held expression. “I guess Strike Six trains charm with combat.”

“She trains for survival,” Jake said, eyes still on Nova. “There’s a difference.”

That—he didn’t mean to say out loud.

Tiffany heard it. Felt it.

She turned away under the guise of watching the game, but her gaze didn’t follow the ball. It followed Nova and what she saw wasn’t just a woman in command of a bar full of pilots. It was someone who fit—effortlessly. Seamlessly. Like she’d always belonged. Laughing with Phoenix. Holding Rooster’s attention. Owning Jake’s.

The night began to wind down. Pool games wrapped. Beers emptied. Music slowed to something hazy and low.

Tiffany shifted beside Jake, brushing a hand down his arm. “Be right back,” she said, her voice sugar-sweet.

Jake nodded absently, eyes flicking toward Nova before he even realized they had.

Nova stood by the jukebox, her jacket folded over her arm, one hand idly scrolling through the song list. Her eyes skimmed the titles, but her attention drifted as footsteps approached behind her—measured, unhurried. Familiar.

“You’ve been staring at that thing for five minutes,” Jake said lightly as he approached her from behind. “You picking a song or memorizing the screen?”

She didn’t turn at first. “I’m weighing my options.”

Jake stepped beside her, close but not crowding. “Well, don’t overthink it. It’s not life or death.”

Nova finally turned slightly toward him, her expression unreadable but amused. “You’d be surprised how much music says about a person.”

Jake leaned in, eyes scanning the screen. “That right?”

And that’s when it happened.

She turned more to face him—just as he leaned closer toward the jukebox. Neither of them expected it, but suddenly, their faces were inches apart.

Close enough that she could see the shift in his eyes. Close enough that his breath brushed her cheek. Neither of them moved. A split-second. Maybe less, but long enough. Nova didn’t look away. Neither did Jake.

Then, slowly, carefully, he reached forward and pressed a song—breaking the moment without a word.

He straightened, but the air between them still hummed.

“I saw how you handled that guy earlier,” Jake said, voice low.

Nova raised a brow. “The fairy tale believer?”

“Yeah. That was… something.” His eyes lingered on her face. “You’ve got a hell of a way of commanding a room.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” she said, but there was no false modesty in it. Just honesty.

Jake’s gaze dropped to the space between them—small, almost nonexistent.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That might be the problem.”

She looked up at him then. Blue eyes catching green. And for a breathless beat, neither of them moved.

Then—her hand brushed his.

It was nothing. Barely a graze. But Jake felt it like a live wire. He wondered, briefly, if she had too—until she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat, gaze darting away.

He swore he saw her cheeks flush.

“Nova—” he started, but didn’t know where he was going with it.

That’s when Phoenix’s voice cut through the haze: “Come on, Ghost! Bob’s about to fall asleep on his feet.”

Nova turned, looking toward the door where Phoenix waved and Bob gave a sleepy two-finger salute.

She smiled, then looked back at Jake.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

Her voice was soft. Her eyes lingered.

Jake’s heart stuttered. “Night, Nova.”

And just like that, she was gone. The scent of salt and something floral lingered as the door swung shut behind her.

Tiffany returned seconds later, slipping back to Jake’s side, but the moment—the spark, the silence, the glance that lasted a beat too long—still hung between his ribs like it meant something. Because it did. She didn’t know who Nova really was. But she was about to find out.

The morning buzzed with low conversation and shuffling boots as the pilots made their way toward the classroom. Nova moved through the corridor with purpose, her hair loosely tied back, flight binder tucked beneath one arm. The hallway ahead was narrow, crowded with bodies peeling off into briefing rooms, and she barely glanced up as she rounded the last corner—

Until she walked straight into someone. Chest to chest.

Strong hands gripped her waist instinctively, grounding her as she stepped back in surprise. Her binder slipped slightly beneath her arm.

Her hands had caught him too—one on his forearm, the other gripping his bicep to steady herself. Jake. His fingers didn’t move from her waist right away.

“Well,” Jake said after a second, voice low. “Good morning to you too.” he muttered, startled—but with a slight smile.

Nova looked up, breath caught in her throat.

“Sorry,” she said softly, almost under her breath.

Jake’s voice came low, a little rough. “You good?”

Nova’s lips parted, her throat tight. “Yeah. Just—wasn’t looking.”

He exhaled through a faint smile. “Clearly.”

Her hand was still on his arm, his thumb was still resting on her waist. They were standing too close.

Nova’s breath hitched. His eyes flicked down. Just for a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked quietly, voice edged in something unspoken.

“I’ve had softer landings,” she murmured, her lips curving.

Jake smirked. “You didn’t call traffic control.”

“I didn’t know I needed clearance.”

That earned a soft chuckle from him. Her hand was still on his arm. His thumb was still resting on her waist.

They were standing too close. She stepped back—just half a pace, enough to breathe. His hands dropped.

Their eyes met for a beat longer than necessary—both of them knowing exactly what just happened and exactly what it meant.

Nova gave him a tight smile, clearing her throat. “See you inside.”

“Try not to walk into anyone else,” he murmured, still watching her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t wait to solve.

Nova held his gaze. “That depends. Anyone else worth bumping into?”

She turned, disappearing into the classroom without looking back, Jake stood there a second longer, jaw clenched, smile slow and reluctant as he followed. They didn’t see the woman standing farther down the corridor. But Tiffany saw everything. The way Jake looked at her. The way Nova looked at him. The tension so thick it could’ve snapped.

Just around the corner, half-shadowed by a doorway, Tiffany had seen the whole thing.

The touch.

The smirk.

The way he looked at her—like he forgot anyone else was in the world for just a moment.

Tiffany’s jaw clenched. No confrontation. No storming. Just a cold smile and a calculated turn.

By the time she reached her office, her mind was already racing. She logged in, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Brooke, Ava.

Tiffany leaned back in her chair, lips curling.

Let’s see what you’re hiding, golden girl.

Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the keys, her screen filled with access logs and encrypted personnel files.

Ava Brooke.

Nova.

Strike Six.

Tiffany’s eyes narrowed. Her request pinged back almost immediately.

CLASSIFIED.

ACCESS RESTRICTED.

REDAC—

REDAC—

REDACTED.

Tiffany exhaled slowly through her nose, annoyed but not surprised. Of course she’s protected. Ghost girl probably eats security clearances for breakfast.

But Tiffany wasn’t done.

She knew how to poke. How to pull threads.

It took time—cross-referencing flight manifests, old mission codenames, Strike Six rosters that no longer existed. But eventually, something cracked.

A file opened. Not Nova’s. His.

Lieutenant Grayson “Ace” Hayes. Strike Six. KIA. Three years ago.

Tiffany paused, lips parting slightly as she scanned the report.

Nova wasn’t listed as next of kin—but the private letter included in the digital file said otherwise. The note, attached with a navy condolence stamp, had gone to Lieutenant Ava Brooke. The file didn’t say much—but it said enough.

Fiancé.

Tiffany leaned back in her chair, eyes gleaming with something cold and victorious.

“Well, well,” she whispered to herself. “Ghost girl has ghosts of her own.”

It made sense now—her eyes, that calm exterior, the way she held herself like she’d been through hell and didn’t need anyone’s sympathy.

Still, Tiffany smirked. Nova hadn’t mentioned him. Not to the squad. Not to Jake.

She kept that one quiet.

[darlingyougotthis]

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Two: The Storm Beneath

The morning sun burned through the hangar’s glass, striping the concrete with long shadows. Inside, the Top Gun squad filed into the briefing room, most still shaking off sleep with half-finished coffees and lazy banter.

Jake strolled in last, sunglasses perched low on his nose, the familiar cocky tilt in his step. He looked as he always did—golden, loose, in control.

But he didn’t feel like it.

Because she was already there.

Nova sat in the second row, legs crossed, flight suit zipped to her collarbone. Her Strike Six patch—dark, understated, deadly—rested over her heart. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. The guys weren’t even trying to hide it anymore—the sideways glances, the hushed murmurs.

Jake didn’t look at her.

Not right away.

He took a seat across the aisle, a few rows back, and told himself he wasn’t keeping her in his peripheral vision. That his attention wasn’t already bending toward her like gravity.

But it was. She looked composed. Polished. Effortless. She didn’t scan the room. Didn’t try to place herself. She already knew where she stood.

Like nothing from last night lingered—not the dart game, not the way she’d shut down that “ghost squad” comment with a single line, not the way she’d looked at him when she said goodnight.

That look still echoed somewhere in his chest.

Phoenix dropped into the seat beside her, nudging her lightly. “Morning, Ghost Girl.”

Nova huffed a quiet laugh. “You still calling me that?”

“I don’t see you denying it.”

Rooster leaned toward Coyote behind them. “Think she’s as lethal as her badge looks?”

Coyote muttered, “Think she could kill you with her flight helmet.”

Jake didn’t speak, but he was listening. He tapped his boot lightly against the floor, jaw tight.

Then the room shifted—straightened—as Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson entered with his usual no-nonsense scowl. Behind him came Maverick, flight suit half-zipped and eyes scanning the room like he already knew everything they didn’t.

“All right,” the commander called out, pulling up the screen behind him. “Hope you’re all feeling sharp this morning, because we’re diving straight into classified scenario prep.”

A chorus of “Yes, sir.” can be heard from around the room as Cyclone explains the perimeters of their training.

“What you’re about to see hasn’t been flown before. It’s a prototype extraction op, low-visibility, multi-vector. You’ll be running it in sim, then in air. We’re assigning pairs. These rotations will stick for now.”

He tapped a button. Names appeared on the screen. Jake’s stomach tightened when he read his.

Seresin – Brooke.

He blinked. Brooke. Nova.

One beat of silence passed before he let out a low breath. Phoenix smirked beside Nova. “Lucky boy,” she muttered.

“Pairing decisions weren’t random,” Cyclone went on. “Brooke’s experience with Strike Six makes her a critical asset in scenario building. She has logged over 1,200 hours in black zone operations, has confirmed three air-to-air kills during classified missions, and holds the record for the lowest successful terrain-hugging exfiltration on file. She’ll be leading some of the tactical phases.”

Heads turned toward Nova, someone—Rooster, probably—let out a low whistle. She didn’t react. But, Jake did. He couldn’t help it—the way his brow ticked up, the way his focus narrowed on her profile. Tactical lead? That wasn’t casual. That was trust.

Maverick launched into mission parameters, the room adjusting around the sharp angles of strategy and simulated risk. But Jake was only half-listening.

He was watching Nova.

She sat straight, eyes forward, fingers loosely laced on the desk. When Maverick threw out a question—“What’s the fastest vertical split response in a blind canyon at high-altitude entry?”—Nova didn’t pause.

“Two-point-six,” she said. “Three, if you’re flying with deadweight.”

A low whistle came from Coyote.

Mav gave a short nod. “Correct.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He was impressed. Too impressed. Maybe that was the problem.

This wasn’t some pretty blonde with a mysterious past and a good aim at the dartboard. This was someone who didn’t just deserve to be here—she could fly circles around half the room. Maybe including him.

“Gear up. Wheels up in 30.” Maverick dismissed them as the briefing wrapped up, chairs scraped and conversations sparked. Rooster clapped Coyote lightly on the shoulder as they passed, muttering something like “Damn, she really is a ghost.”

Coyote rolled his eyes. “Told you.”

Jake stood slower than the rest. He told himself he wasn’t waiting for her to look at him.

He told himself wrong.

She rose gracefully, gathering nothing—she hadn’t even brought a pen. She didn’t need to. That brain of hers probably held more classified knowledge than half the intel office.

And then, just as she passed him, she glanced sideways. Their eyes met. No smile. No word. Just that look. Like she saw right through him.

Then she was gone, boots tapping steadily out of the room like she wasn’t leaving a trail of tension in her wake. Jake let out a slow breath, dragged a hand through his hair, and muttered under it— “Shit.”

The locker room was quiet, filled with the rustle of gear bags and the low creak of hinges as Phoenix pulled her locker open. Nova leaned against the bench, zipping up the top half of her flight suit, blond waves falling down over one shoulder. She looked calm. Almost serene.

She was still new here. But it didn’t feel like it.

Not to Phoenix.

“You really don’t rattle, do you?” Phoenix asked, tossing Nova a water bottle from the top shelf. “Not last night. Not this morning. Not even when Cyclone dropped your kill count like a mic.”

Nova caught the bottle one-handed and smirked. “Why waste energy?”

Phoenix rolled her eyes, grinning. “I swear, Strike Six must teach emotional detachment with flight mechanics.”

Nova chuckled, soft and low. “It’s more like… perspective.”

Before Phoenix could reply, the door opened behind them.

Tiffany stepped inside.

Her heels clicked against the tile, and even out of uniform she looked like she’d walked off a magazine cover—sleek hair, perfect blouse, clipboard clutched in one manicured hand.

“Didn’t realize this was an open meeting,” Phoenix muttered under her breath.

Nova said nothing, just tightened the strap on her gear bag and focused on tucking in the edge of her sleeve.

Tiffany smiled. Wide. Pleasant. Deadly. Eyes landing on Nova.

“Just thought I’d drop by and check on the pilot side of things. Big flight coming up. Heard you’ve been paired with Jake.”

Nova glanced over, expression unreadable. “That’s what the board said.”

“Interesting choice,” Tiffany said, head tilting slightly. “They usually don’t shuffle partners unless there’s… potential.”

Phoenix turned fully now, one brow arched. “I’m sorry, are you implying something?”

Tiffany didn’t even blink. “Of course not. I’m just surprised how quickly things move around here.”

Nova finally looked at her then—calm, open. No edge, no bite.

“I’m just here to do my job.”

Tiffany’s smile tightened. “Naturally. Though it’s a little jarring, I guess… how someone can show up one day and have everyone talking.”

Nova didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

She just swung her bag over one shoulder, smooth and practiced, then offered Tiffany a gentle nod. “Nice to meet you, by the way. Officially. Professionally.”

Tiffany blinked. “Right. Yes. You too.”

She extended her hand.

Nova took it without hesitation—firm, respectful, brief.

Tiffany’s grip lingered half a second longer than necessary. “I hope your time here is… productive.”

Nova’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So do I.”

With that, Tiffany turned on her heel and walked out—head high, hips swaying, and a tension in her jaw that didn’t match her parting grace.

The door clicked softly shut. Phoenix let out a breath.

“I don’t know what Jake sees in her,” she muttered.

Nova, still facing her locker, didn’t look up. “That’s not really my business.”

Phoenix scoffed. “She doesn’t like you.”

This time Nova did look at her and shrugged.

“Yeah,” she said simply. “I noticed.”

She grabbed her gloves from the bench and tucked them under her arm, not a trace of bitterness in her voice. Just fact. As if it meant nothing at all.

Phoenix studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You’re kind of a badass, you know that?”

Nova gave a faint smile. “You’re late to that conclusion.”

Laughing, Phoenix followed her out of the locker room, boots hitting the tile in sync. Together, they headed for the sims—two women, side by side, walking into fire without ever needing armor.

The tarmac shimmered under the late afternoon sun, the heat rippling off steel wings and freshly laid jet fuel. Jake “Hangman” Seresin adjusted his gloves out of habit, attention flicking toward the runway.

Then he heard her.

Boots on pavement. Confident, steady, unhurried.

Nova.

Helmet under one arm, Strike Six patch gleaming over her heart, eyes hidden behind aviators that somehow made her even harder to read. She walked past him like he wasn’t even there—but her words landed with precision.

“Try to keep up, Hangman,” she said casually.

Jake’s grin came slow, easy, and way too honest.

“If you’re setting the pace,” he replied, eyes following her, “I won’t complain.”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. But he noticed the subtle rise of her shoulders, the slight pause in her step—just enough to let him know she’d heard it. Then she was climbing into her jet, silent and composed.

Jake shook his head, laughing under his breath. This wasn’t going to be a routine flight. Engines ignited moments later, rumbling under the weight of two high-performance birds preparing to punch through the sky.

Jake launched first, Nova tight behind him. Separate jets. Shared objective. Shared frequency.

“Hangman, airborne.”

“Nova, on your six.”

Her voice crackled into his headset—low, precise, unreadable.

Jake checked his radar, watching her icon slide effortlessly into formation behind him.

“Targets ahead,” he said. “You want high or low?”

“Split left. I’ve got upper sightlines.”

He didn’t hesitate. Jake banked hard into the turn, Nova slipping above him like they were two pieces of the same machine. Her movement was clean. Automatic. Every minor shift predicted the air before it changed.

Strike Six. Ghost team, sure—but her instincts were all too real.

“Ping at nine o’clock,” she called out. “Cut wide. You’ll ride through clean.”

Jake adjusted without hesitation. She wasn’t giving suggestions—she was anticipating and she was right again.

“Sharp eyes,” he murmured.

“Comes with the ghosts,” she replied. He could almost hear the shrug.

Jake exhaled a tight laugh. “Remind me to get one of those Strike Six manuals.”

“There isn’t one,” she said simply. “You either get it… or you don’t.”

They flew tighter. Cleaner. Every shift in position felt choreographed, but it wasn’t. It was trust. Immediate. Natural.

Nova called another move. “Thrust down two percent. You’re drifting.”

Jake followed without thinking. A beat later, she added, “Clean correction. Didn’t think you’d actually listen.”

“Only when it counts.”

“You mean when I’m right?” she teased—just enough to twist the knife.

Jake smirked. “You’re not wrong.”

There was a pause in the comms—brief. But not empty.

Then Nova spoke again, voice softer now. “You don’t fly like the rumors.”

Jake arched a brow. “That a compliment?”

“Take it however helps you sleep.”

They dropped low into canyon terrain—tight ridges, red rock shadows, and simulated fire zones. Jake cut between walls like he’d done a hundred times before. Nova was right with him. No errors. No corrections. Just harmony.

Then came the final run. Target acquisition.

“Visual on the mark,” Nova said. “You ready?”

“Always.”

“Then let’s finish this.”

He aligned, locked in, and struck clean.

Nova confirmed it a second later. “Target hit. Smooth shot.”

Jake pulled up into open sky, adrenaline still humming.

“Hell of a run,” he said. “You always this easy to fly with?”

“Only when they can keep up.”

Her tone was still even. But something in it curled beneath his skin like a spark.

Minutes later, both jets touched down—Jake first, Nova gliding in behind.

He powered down his jet, lifted his helmet, and slid out onto the ladder. The heat hit again. So did the buzz still crawling down his spine.

She joined him near the tarmac, helmet still tucked against her hip, eyes calm.

“Nice flying,” she said, meeting his gaze.

And then, with just the faintest smile:

“Jake.”

It hit harder than it should have.

Not Hangman.

Just Jake.

Before he could reply, she turned and walked away—like she hadn’t just unbalanced his entire axis with two syllables and a smile.

Jake didn’t follow. He just stood there, watching her go and thinking, she’s dangerous.

The debrief room buzzed low with chatter, but Jake barely registered it. His gaze was locked on the footage playing across the screen—silent, stunning, undeniable.

Nova’s jet carved through the sky like she owned it. Every move was instinct. Every pivot, every shift, every call—it was all just ahead of where it needed to be. Not rushed. Not guessed. She wasn’t reacting. She was reading the sky.

“Look at that,” Rooster muttered beside him, chin propped in his hand. “She’s already banking before the radar even picks up the threat.”

Jake didn’t respond. His jaw ticked once, eyes locked on the way Nova’s jet sliced low through the canyon like she knew exactly where the danger would be.

“Damn,” Rooster said. “That’s not flying. That’s something else.”

“She flies like she’s dancing,” he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could catch them.

Rooster tilted his head. “That’s either poetic or horny, and I honestly can’t tell which.”

Jake’s mouth twitched. “She’s precise. I’ve never seen anyone fly like that.”

Nova’s voice crackled over the recorded comms. “Cut thrust two percent. You’re drifting.”

Jake watched his own response—fluid, immediate. He hadn’t questioned her in the moment. Just followed. Trusted.

He hadn’t done that with anyone else. Not like that.

“She doesn’t hesitate,” Jake murmured. “She just knows.”

Rooster leaned back in his chair. “It’s hot.”

Jake didn’t respond at first. Then - quietly, almost as if he wasn’t aware he said it. “Yeah…”

Rooster glanced at him, brow raised. Jake didn’t look away from the screen.

Rooster added, more softly this time, “Careful, man. That kind of attention’s hard to hide.”

Jake’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.

“It’s just flying,” he said.

But he said it too fast. Too flat. And his jaw clenched a beat too long. Rooster didn’t call him out on it. He just looked back at the screen. At the woman carving through simulated death zones like she was painting in the air.

“Sure it is,” Rooster murmured.

Jake didn’t reply. He didn’t have to because somewhere between her voice in his headset and the way she said his name after they landed, he knew damn well— It wasn’t just flying.

[darlingyougotthis]

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter One: Ghost of Strike Six

Ava “Nova” Brooke. Everyone calls her Nova. Her squad Strike Squadron Six, or Strike Six. A special tactics air team, specialising in stealth, precision and danger. A ghost team.

The Hard Deck was alive with noise and energy, the evening crowd buzzing with laughter and the occasional clatter of pool balls or clink of beer bottles. The jukebox played something classic and loud, and the usual suspects—Top Gun’s finest—were gathered near the bar, half-drunk and entirely cocky.

Jake Seresin leaned against the edge of the pool table, cue in one hand, beer in the other, lazily charming a couple of off-duty naval engineers who looked just drunk enough to giggle at anything he said. He was winning, as always.

Until the door opened, the sea breeze slipped in first, cool and salt-tinged—but it wasn’t what caught their attention. It was her.

Every head turned.

She stepped in like she belonged there—no hesitation, no uncertainty. Just purpose wrapped in curves and confidence. Her blonde hair was swept into a loose bun, sun-kissed strands framing her flawless face. Blue eyes scanned the bar, cool and calculating, taking in every corner. Her tan flight jacket clung to her body like it had been tailored to her figure. And there, over her heart, sat the unmistakable badge.

Strike Six. It wasn’t just rare. It was mythical. Jake’s easy smirk slipped for the first time all night.

“Who the hell is that?” Fanboy muttered, already straightening up.

“No way,” Coyote said, brow furrowed. “Is that real?”

“Strike Six?” Rooster let out a low whistle. “That’s a ghost team.”

“Not anymore,” Phoenix said suddenly, standing straighter. Her eyes narrowed, then widened. “No fucking way—Ava?”

The woman’s gaze finally landed on Phoenix, and for the first time since entering, her expression warmed. A bright smile bloomed across her face—genuine, radiant, disarming.

“Natasha,” she said, striding forward like a slow storm.

The two women collided in a hug that surprised everyone. Tight, like sisters who hadn’t seen each other in years. Jake watched, brow ticking.

“You know her?” Rooster asked Phoenix, clearly stunned.

Nova turned back toward the group, her smile dimming slightly as she took in the crowd. She was unreadable now—calm, contained. And then she stepped forward.

“I thought you were flying classified ops in the Pacific,” Phoenix said, still in shock.

Nova smiled—just a little. “I was. Got reassigned. Heard you were back here breaking cocky boys in half.”

Phoenix grinned. “Only the ones who deserve it.”

Nova let out a soft laugh, low and warm. And then—like she just remembered they weren’t alone—her gaze drifted back to the group now silently watching her like she was something out of a damn movie.

And maybe she was.

Rooster stepped forward, eyes flicking between the Strike Six patch and her face. “Phoenix gonna introduce us, or…?”

Phoenix rolled her eyes, already stepping toward the team. “Guys, this is—”

“Ava Brooke,” Nova said, beating her to it. She took a small step forward, all eyes on her. “Call sign’s Nova.”

Her voice was clear and smooth—firm without being harsh. Her gaze drifted lazily across the group, like she was reading them in real time.

“Nova,” Jake repeated under his breath. It sounded like smoke. Like heat.

“I know who you all are,” she added, casually.

Fanboy blinked. “You do?”

Nova looked at him. “Lieutenant Reuben Fitch. Fanboy. Navigator. Graduated second in your class, strong suits are radar and sarcasm. You flinch slightly when the Gs hit six, but you hide it well.”

Fanboy’s mouth parted slightly.

Then she turned. “Coyote. Pilot. High-altitude endurance specialist. Flies like a cowboy, thinks like an engineer. Strong leadership potential. You dislocated your shoulder last year during a canyon run. It’s healed, but you favor it.”

Coyote looked at her like she’d just read his medical chart. “What the—”

Nova didn’t stop.

“Bob Floyd. WSO. Analytical. Quiet, but don’t mistake that for soft. You see everything.”

Bob flushed, smiling a little in surprise.

“Rooster,” she said next, and Bradley Bradshaw lifted his chin like he wasn’t already smirking.

She gave him a knowing look. “Big reputation. Bigger hair. Your old man was a legend, and you’re doing your damnedest to earn that name—on your own terms. It’s working.”

Rooster blinked. “Thanks, I—”

She turned again and then she got to him.

Jake Seresin stood still, beer forgotten in his hand.

“And you,” Nova said, voice dipping a fraction. “Jake Seresin. Call sign: Hangman. Top of your class. Most confirmed kills in last year’s training run. A reputation that walks into rooms before you do. Sharp shooter. Sharper mouth. You fly like you were born for it.”

Her eyes lingered. Jake’s jaw clenched just slightly, something unreadable flickering behind his stare.

She gave him the faintest smirk. “And apparently… you’re still looking.”

A beat of silence fell over the group like a dropped bomb.

Rooster let out a low whistle. “This just got interesting.”

Coyote leaned toward Fanboy. “Who is this woman?”

Nova finally turned back to Phoenix, expression cool as ice. “Strike Six doesn’t expect anything less than everything,” she said. “Knowing exactly who you’re flying with? That’s day one.”

Phoenix’s grin widened. “God, I missed you.”

Jake still hadn’t moved and Nova still hadn’t looked at him again.

Nova leaned back slightly as she laughed with Phoenix, twirling the neck of her beer between two fingers. Her golden hair was slightly tousled, skin glowing beneath the bar lights. She looked like someone who belonged here—and yet still untouchable.

Rooster straightened his shirt, rolled his shoulders back, and casually strolled over, cue stick abandoned.

“Alright,” he said, flashing his best Bradshaw grin. “You’ve impressed us, ghost girl. What else you got?”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “Ghost girl?”

Rooster winked. “Figure if you’re gonna haunt our skies, might as well haunt our dartboard too.”

Phoenix groaned. “You’re setting yourself up for failure.”

Nova slid off the stool, bottle in hand, and looked at Rooster with calm amusement. “You want to lose in front of your friends?”

Rooster clutched his chest. “You wound me.”

Nova handed her beer to Phoenix. “Lead the way, hotshot.”

The moment she stood, the atmosphere shifted. The group fell in behind her like she carried gravity with her. Heads turned again as she walked to the dartboard—relaxed, precise, all eyes drawn to her.

Jake’s beer hung forgotten in his hand. He didn’t stop staring.

The dartboard had no idea what was coming.

Rooster nudged Nova as they made their way toward the back corner of the bar. “Alright, ghost girl. Let’s see if the legend can play.”

Nova smirked, grabbing a dart. “You sure you want to see that?”

Fanboy leaned toward Coyote, whispering, “Twenty bucks says she’s all talk.”

Coyote just shook his head. “Nah. She’s the real deal. You saw that patch.”

Nova didn’t respond. She stepped up to the line, cool and effortless, and tossed the first dart.

Thwack.

Dead center.

The second one followed.

Then the third.

All three nestled tightly into the red bullseye like they’d never known another home.

The guys froze.

“Jesus,” Rooster muttered, eyeing the board like it had betrayed him.

“You still wanna go?” Nova asked him sweetly, plucking another dart from the tray.

Rooster lifted his chin. “Hell yeah.”

They played. He made her work for it—Rooster was competitive—but Nova stayed in control. Every throw was precise, every movement fluid. She didn’t show off. Didn’t gloat. She just was that good. After another win, she handed Rooster the dart back with a tiny nod. “You’re not bad.”

“Coming from you, that feels like a damn trophy.”

That’s when the game shifted. That’s when Jake moved. He hadn’t said a word since she introduced herself. Hadn’t challenged her. Hadn’t even looked her way for more than a few seconds.

But now? He walked slowly toward the board, eyes trained on Nova, every bit the cocky golden boy he was.

“Care to go a round?” he asked, voice smooth as bourbon.

Nova tilted her head. “I thought you didn’t need help.”

Jake smirks. “Maybe I just wanted to watch a professional at work.”

He then narrowed his eyes slightly, stepping closer. “Care to show me how it’s done?”

Nova’s voice dropped, silky. “You want me to hold your hand?”

Jake leaned in, voice low and cocky. “You offering?”

He stepped closer, shoulder brushing hers. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she handed him a dart. He took it, spun it in his fingers. Their proximity pulled a quiet tension over the group, like someone had cut the noise with a knife.

Rooster muttered, “Here we go…”

Jake turned, aimed, and threw.

Bullseye.

The team let out a unified noise of approval—low whistles, claps, raised brows.

Jake turned back to Nova, grinning. “Your move.”

Nova stepped forward, close enough to feel the heat off Jake’s chest. She stopped right in front of him. He was between her and the dartboard now. And still, she didn’t look away. The team quieted, eyes bouncing between the two like it was a showdown.

Slowly, deliberately, she held up the dart in front of him, didn’t break eye contact, didn’t glance at the board.

Then, as Jake stood there, waiting to see what she’d do—she threw the dart.

Eyes locked on his. Thwack. Bullseye.

Rooster literally gasped. Fanboy dropped his drink. Bob’s jaw hit the floor. Jake looked over his shoulder at the board, stunned for half a second. Then back at her.

Nova reached behind Jake to retrieve the dart, her hand brushing his hip as she passed. She held it out to him like an offering, voice calm and cool.

“Still want lessons?”

Jake stared at her—something unreadable tightening in his jaw. His smirk faded eyes flicking over her face like he couldn’t decide what the hell she was made of.

A voice, sharp and feminine, sliced through the room.

“Jake.”

Everyone turned.

She stood near the bar—perfect posture, crisp Navy uniform, dark brown hair twisted into a tight bun, and a glare that could slice through titanium. Tiffany Quinn. Navy intel. Jake’s girlfriend.

Nova’s spine straightened slightly, but her expression didn’t shift.

Jake blinked, stepping back from Nova like he’d forgotten Tiffany existed.

“Tiff,” he said with a smile. “Didn’t know you were swinging by.”

Her eyes never left Nova. “I heard there was… someone new.”

The way she said it made it sound like a threat.

Nova turned fully now. “Hi.”

Tiffany stepped closer, gaze raking over Nova’s frame like she was inspecting a threat to national security. “Tiffany Quinn. Naval intelligence.”

“Nova,” she replied easily.

Tiffany’s expression tightened. “Strike Six, huh? That’s what they’re saying.”

Phoenix cut in before Nova could. “You’ve heard of them?”

“Oh,” Tiffany said lightly. “Only rumors. Ghost stories. You know how guys exaggerate.”

Nova tilted her head. Exaggerate? She really has no idea. No one does. She kept her tone calm but protective. “Strike Six is never meant to be seen. We weren’t made to be known. We were made to be trusted. That’s how we keep people safe.”

The table went silent. The air shifted. Jake stared at Nova like he’d never seen a woman before. Tiffany stared too, but not in awe. In silent, burning jealousy. But she hid it well. She smiled—because that’s what she was supposed to do. Because she was in public. Because Jake was standing next to her. Because she couldn’t very well lunge across the bar and scratch that smug little expression off Nova’s face. But beneath the gloss of her lip balm and the tilt of her head, her thoughts were boiling.

Nova met her gaze briefly, then turned back to Phoenix and the team like Tiffany was already forgotten. Tiffany brushed her fingers lightly along Jake’s arm, her smile soft and sickly sweet.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” she said, leaning in just close enough for her perfume to linger. “Want anything?”

Jake shook his head, distracted. “No, I’m good.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek—calculated, visible.

“Be right back.”As she walked away, her heels clicking neatly across the hardwood, her smile stayed intact. But the moment she turned her back, the mask came off. She didn’t look back at Jake. Kept her eyes forward and jaw tense, jealously ripping through her.

And Jake? He didn’t look at her, either. He was still staring across the bar. Nova stood with Phoenix, head tilted back mid-laugh, the curl of her smile catching the light. She looked relaxed, even happy. She hadn’t spared a glance for him in a while—not since the dart throw. Not since she handed him that bullseye and walked away like it didn’t mean a thing.Jake’s grip tightened on the bottle in his hand.

“You alright, man?”Rooster’s voice came low and dry beside him.

Jake blinked and looked over. “Yeah,” he said automatically.

Rooster followed his line of sight. “She’s something.”

Jake exhaled slowly. “She’s… different.”

Rooster nodded once. “Yeah. Like gravity. Dangerous if you don’t know how to fly with it.”

Jake didn’t respond—but his eyes were already drifting again and then it happened. Nova looked up. A second. Maybe less. Her eyes locked with his. Still. Steady. Blue like frost and fire. She didn’t smile. She didn’t look away. She held it, hen she turned her head back to Phoenix like nothing happened at all.

Jake swallowed hard because right then—right there—he knew. He was fucked. Nova had walked into the room like a storm and without knowing, she’d knocked him clean off balance.

[darlingyougotthis]

Talk To Me

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Chapter Five: Aftermath

The house was silent when they returned, but the air was thick — like it remembered everything that had just happened.

Nova walked in first, still in Jake’s hoodie, her hair tied up messily but she still look effortless. Her skin was pale, her steps small. Jake followed behind her like a shadow with weight in his shoulders he couldn’t shake.

He closed the door quietly, then locked it. Not because he thought Ryder would come. Because he needed something — anything — to feel secure again.

Nova hovered near the kitchen island.

Jake walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

She turned in his arms, eyes glassy, and buried her face in his chest.

“I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin,” she whispered.

Jake kissed her hair, tightening his hold. “We’re going to burn that feeling out.”

He moved gently, like touching her too quickly might shatter her. They settled onto the couch. Nova curled up in his lap, her knees drawn in, her face buried in his chest. Jake wrapped a soft throw around them and leaned back, arms around her like armor.

Nova trembled once. Then again. Then the dam broke. She cried — not loudly, but deeply. Jake kissed her forehead again and again, rocking her slightly.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” she said, voice cracked.

“No, Ava,” Jake said gently. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for his sickness.”

Her fingers clutched at his shirt.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Jake pulled back just enough to look at her, his hand cradling her cheek. “Listen to me. You are my person. My everything .There is nothing, I wouldn’t do to protect you.”

She nodded, a broken breath catching in her throat.

His voice dropped, low and trembling. “He won’t get another inch of you. Not while I’m breathing.”

Then he kissed her forehead, slow and firm.

“I promise.”

The next morning, the Dagger Squad met in Hangar Three. It wasn’t an official meeting. It didn’t have to be. Jake had called them in with one message: Urgent.

Nova stood with him, quiet but present. Her hair was up, her flight jacket thrown over his hoodie. She looked small, but her spine was straight. Jake stepped forward and laid a sealed envelope on the metal table in front of them.

“Ryder Armstrong,” he said. “He’s been stalking Nova. Following her. Making comments. And two nights ago, this showed up at our house.”

He opened the envelope. The photo. The letter. The air in the hangar shifted.

Rooster muttered, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Phoenix’s fists clenched. Bob looked like someone had punched him.

Fanboy, always the loud one, was silent. His gaze flicked from the letter to Nova and back again.

“He’s still on base,” Jake continued. “Until command moves, I need backup. Watch her six. Eyes open.”

“Why is he still walking around?” Rooster demanded.

“Because his name’s not on the letters,” Jake said. “But it’s him. We know it. And now we’re going to prove it.”

Phoenix stepped up beside Nova. “You okay?”

Nova gave her a nod. “I will be. I just need to know he can’t touch me again.”

“You’ve got us now,” Phoenix said. “He even breathes in your direction, we shut it down.”

Jake gave a single, grateful nod. Then Rooster looked at him, deadly serious. “What happens if he gets close again?”

Jake didn’t flinch.

“He won’t.”

Commander Bates didn’t waste time.

Jake brought him the full folder. Nova gave a full written statement. Bates had already logged complaints from Phoenix and Fanboy, backing up her discomfort. But without hard proof, he couldn’t move on dismissal.

So he dug.

Locker access logs. Hangar security footage. Parking lot cams. Shower hallway recordings.

Nova stayed home. Jake wouldn’t let her come back to base until they had something. Each night, she curled against him in bed. Each morning, she woke up reaching for safety.

Then came the call.

They met Commander Bates in the small surveillance review room behind the control center. A tech was already cueing up the footage.

Jake sat beside Nova, his hand covering hers on her thigh.

The screen flickered to life. Timestamp: late evening. Three days ago.

Nova appeared first — walking toward the showers, towel in hand, flight suit unzipped just enough. Jake’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. Nova didn’t blink. Then — less than a minute later — Ryder entered the frame. Same direction. Same pace. His eyes locked forward. Two minutes passed. He emerged, alone. Phone in hand, screen glowing.

The silence in the room was deafening.

“Jesus,” Bates said softly. “There it is.”

Jake’s jaw ticked.

Nova whispered, “He was that close. That fast.”

Jake stood suddenly. His hand dragged down his face. “That son of a bitch.” He paced once, then turned back to Commander Bates. “Is that enough?”

“It is,” Bates said. “We’re initiating dismissal protocol. Immediately.”

Nova’s body sagged in her chair. Not from weakness — from the weight lifting. Jake sat back beside her and pulled her in.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he murmured.

The room was cold. Not physically — but in atmosphere. The overhead light buzzed faintly, casting a pale glow over the table.

Ryder Armstrong sat back in his chair, arms folded, legs spread like he belonged there. Smug. Relaxed. He didn’t wear his flight suit. Just a plain tee and jeans. Like this was some kind of casual misunderstanding.

Commander Bates stood across the table, his expression unreadable, a file thick with evidence tucked beneath one arm.

He dropped it onto the table with a hard slap. The noise echoed.

Ryder didn’t flinch. “So, what’s this about, Commander?”

Nash didn’t sit. He stood tall, looming, hands clasped behind his back. “You’re here to account for your actions toward Lieutenant Brooke.”

Ryder smirked. “Lieutenant Brooke? Nova? She is a shit hot pilot, a little cocky perhaps but…”

“That’s not the issue,” Bates said flatly.

Ryder leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Look, I get it. She’s Seresin’s girl. But that doesn’t mean I can’t talk to her.”

“You didn’t just talk to her.”

The Commander opened the folder slowly. The photo came first — sealed in an evidence bag.

Ryder looked at it, then let out a quiet scoff. “That photo? You can barely see anything.”

“So you’ve seen this before?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you took it.”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“You just implied it.”

Ryder’s jaw tensed. Bates slid a still from the security footage across the table next — timestamped, grainy, but clear. Nova entering the showers. Ryder following less than a minute later.

“Looks circumstantial,” Ryder said, voice sharper now.

“You were in a restricted corridor. With your phone out. No assigned duties in that sector.”

Ryder didn’t answer.

Commander Bates leaned down slightly. “You stalked a fellow officer. You made her feel unsafe. You crossed boundaries repeatedly, and when she didn’t respond, you escalated.”

“Maybe she liked the attention,” Ryder muttered.

“This isn’t a game, Armstrong. She is your colleague. And you followed her into the showers.”

“She never told me to stop!”

Bates’ voice cut like a blade. “Because she was scared. You used silence as an excuse to push further.”

Ryder’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what happened between us.”

“I know what you said,” Commander Bates said, flipping open a transcript. “To another pilot. You said: ‘She always looks at me. She knows what I can give her. Better than him.’”

Ryder’s breath caught.

“That,” Bates said slowly, “is intention. And that’s all I need.”

Two MPs entered from the door behind Ryder. He stood quickly, anger replacing charm.

“You’re throwing my career away over a few looks?”

“No,” the commander said. “You did that yourself the minute you decided a woman’s disinterest was a challenge.”

Ryder glared at him. “She wanted it. She was just playing hard to get.”

That was the last straw.

Bates stepped forward. “Get him out.”

The MPs moved fast, gripping Ryder by the arms as he jerked against them.

Jake was outside the room, arms crossed, muscles coiled. Nova stood beside him, pale but calm. As Ryder was dragged past them, his gaze landed on Nova. He smirked — bloody-lipped from a split Commander Bates ‘hadn’t seen’ — and said, “You could’ve had something better.”

Jake took one step forward, but Nova caught his bicep.

“Jake don’t,” she said in a soft voice. “Don’t give him what he wants.”

Jake’s glare could’ve set fire to concrete. But he held. Nova stood behind him, her breathing shallow.

The moment Ryder was gone, she looked at Jake. Her eyes glassed, but steady and this time — this time — when she exhaled, she felt clean. Bates watched them for a long moment.

“Dismissal orders are filed,” he said. “Base access revoked. He’s gone.”

Jake nodded, slipping his hand into Nova’s. “Thank you, sir.”

That night, the house was silent except for the hum of cicadas and the soft rustle of wind through the porch screen. The porch swing creaked softly under their weight, swaying in rhythm with the breeze that drifted in from the ocean. The sky was bruised purple and gold, stars just beginning to show.

Nova curled into Jake’s side, legs draped over his lap, her head resting beneath his chin. He held her close, one arm wrapped securely around her waist, the other tracing soft circles over her thigh with his thumb.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Nova’s breath came slow and steady, but he could feel the tension still lingering beneath her skin — like her body hadn't quite caught up with the safety of the moment.

Jake kissed the top of her head.

“I didn’t realize how much space he took up in my head,” she whispered. “Even when he wasn’t there, it was like... I was waiting.”

Jake threaded his fingers through hers. “You shouldn’t have had to carry that.”

“I thought if I ignored it, it’d go away. I didn’t want to make it real.”

He turned slightly, brushing his lips against her hair. “You were never alone. Not for a second.”

She let out a slow breath. “I know. I do now.”

They sat like that a while, her hand tracing lazy shapes on his thigh, his arm wrapped around her like he’d never let go again.

Eventually, she tilted her face toward his. He kissed her. Slow. Deep. Not hungry — not desperate — but grounding.

When they pulled apart, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For loving me like this.”

Jake smiled. “There’s no other way I know how.”

[darlingyougotthis]

Talk To Me

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Four: The Confrontation

The hallway outside the locker bay was dim and quiet — only the low hum of overhead lights breaking the stillness. Jake waited with his arms crossed, eyes locked on the corridor like a hunter in a blind. His jaw was set, mouth tight, breath calm. He’d been there for nearly ten minutes.

Then Ryder appeared, carrying his gear bag. Alone. Whistling under his breath. Jake stepped out of the shadows. Ryder stopped walking.

“Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Seresin,” Ryder said with a smirk. “You shadowboxing now?”

Jake didn’t smile.

He stepped closer, eyes fixed. “You keep looking at her,” Jake said quietly. “Too long. Too often.”

Ryder tilted his head. “She’s not hard to look at.”

Jake didn’t blink. “You’re going to stop. Now.”

“Did she say something?”

Jake’s nostrils flared. “She doesn’t have to.”

Ryder gave a dry laugh. “You think I’ve crossed some line?”

Jake stepped forward, their chests nearly touching. “You crossed it the second you thought about her like that.”

“She’s a grown woman.”

Jake’s voice dropped lower. “She’s my woman.”

Something flickered in Ryder’s eyes. Not fear. Something darker. Pride.

“Funny,” Ryder said. “You act like you own her.”

Jake’s hand twitched at his side — he nearly punched him. He wanted to, but he didn’t. He leaned in instead, close enough for only Ryder to hear.

“If I catch you near her again, you’ll wish all you got was a fist.”

Ryder just smiled. “You can’t protect someone from what they want.”

Jake’s mouth twitched — not with anger. With restraint.

“Neither can you.”

He turned and walked away, but he was done waiting. This wasn’t going to go away quietly.

It had been a long, heavy day. Nova stepped out of the shower, toweling off her hair, still trying to scrub the stress from her skin. Her muscles ached, her chest tighter than it should’ve been, and all she wanted was to feel normal again.

She walked into the bedroom, opened Jake’s drawer, and tugged on one of his Navy t-shirts — soft, oversized, warm with his scent. It fell halfway down her thighs, loose and comforting. Her safe space.

Barefoot, she padded down the hallway toward the kitchen.

And stopped. There — just inside the front door, half-tucked under the edge of the welcome mat — was a white envelope.

She blinked, heart already sinking. It hadn’t been there earlier.

Nova walked slowly over, bent to pick it up. No stamp. No address. Just her name, printed in bold black ink on the front.

*Nova.*

Her stomach dropped. She picked it up slowly. Opened it with shaking fingers. The letter was neatly written. No signature. No greeting.

“You can’t hide in uniforms and sunlight forever. I saw you yesterday. In the locker room. The way your hair stuck to your skin — the way you moved when no one was watching. You don’t even know how beautiful you are when you think you’re alone. Jake doesn’t deserve to be the one who touches you. I could show you what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Beneath the letter was a photograph.

Her hand went numb.

It was grainy. A silhouette. But it was her. In the locker room showers — steam rising, the soft curve of her spine visible behind the frosted glass. Her arms lifted, water cascading down her body.

She staggered back, the letter falling from her fingers. The photo landed beside it.

A noise built in her chest. A cry. A sob. She didn’t know. She backed into the kitchen island, gripping it with both hands, breathing ragged. Jake’s shirt clung to her skin. Her legs trembled. Then the sound of keys in the front door.

Jake’s voice: “Baby?”

She couldn’t speak.

He stepped inside, brow furrowed—until he saw her standing there. He crossed the kitchen in two strides, took her face in both hands, gentle despite the rage still trembling under his skin.

“You’re shaking, baby. What’s going on?” he whispered, forehead pressed to hers.

Nova’s lip trembled as her eyes dropped to the counter. “Jake…”

Then he saw it. The photo. The letter.

He picked them up in one swift, deliberate movement. Read the words.

Silence.

Then suddenly—

“What the hell is this?,” Jake exploded, slamming the letter down hard on the counter. The paper slapped like a gunshot in the stillness. “Fucking hell...”

His hands raked through his hair, pacing three steps before he spun around to her again, eyes burning.

“He came to our house…”

Jake’s voice cracked with fury. “He followed you here. Took that photo. Wrote this disgusting—what the fuck is wrong with him?”

He stopped. Froze.

Looked at her — really looked. Fear in her eyes. Lips trembling.

“God, baby, I’m so sorry.”

His jaw clenched. Breath ragged.

Then he pulled her into his chest. Picked up the letter again, his fingers curling around it like he wanted to tear it in half.

“Tell me everything. Right now. No more holding back. What the hell else has he done?”

Nova sat at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched, hands cradling a mug of tea she hadn’t touched. Her eyes were wide, glassy, and full of dread.

Jake stood across the kitchen, arms braced against the counter, his head down. The veins in his forearms were standing out, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge.

“Talk to me, baby. I want to know…” he said, voice low — so low it vibrated. “All of it.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then tried again.

“It started small,” she whispered. “Just… looks. Long ones. Too long. At first, I thought I was overthinking it. A glance here or there. You weren’t around, and it was nothing—”

“Don’t call it nothing,” Jake growled without turning around.

Nova swallowed. “Then he started saying things. Compliments, but not really. About my flying. My body. The way I ‘move’ in the cockpit.”

Jake’s shoulders stiffened, then squared like he was preparing for impact.

“He got close. Always when you weren’t there. In the hangar, or the parking lot. He said you were possessive. That I deserved someone who didn’t treat me like I was property. Like he was doing me some favor by watching me.”

Jake finally turned. His eyes were pure fire.

“He said what?”

Nova flinched. Not from him — from the heat in his voice. From the rage behind it.

“He followed me. Waited for me outside once. I didn’t want to cause a scene. I just brushed it off. Then the notes started. One in my locker. Then another. Weird stuff. Poetic. Obsessive.”

Jake was breathing hard now. His chest rose and fell in short, angry bursts. He paced once, then stopped.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to get dragged into it,” she said. Her voice broke. “I thought I could handle it. I didn’t want to mess things up for you.”

Jake barked a sharp, humorless laugh. “Mess things up? Ava, this man has been stalking you. Writing about your body. Taking photos of you in the damn *shower*. You think I give a single shit about protocol?”

She looked down. “I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

Jake froze. His eyes locked on her — not angry now, but shocked. Gutted.

“You were protecting me?”

“I’ve seen how far you’d go for me,” she whispered. “I knew if you found out, you’d want to kill him. I didn’t want to see you lose everything for someone like him.”

Jake walked to her slowly, dropped to a knee in front of her chair, and took her face in both hands. His thumb brushed away a tear on her cheek.

“I’d burn the whole damn program to the ground before I let him touch you again,” he said, fierce and certain. “You’re mine. You’re mine, Nova. And no one — no one — gets to look at you like that and walk away breathing.”

Nova exhaled shakily, forehead pressed against his.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

Jake shook his head. “Don’t apologize for protecting me. Just don’t lie to me. Ever again.”

She nodded against him. His hands dropped from her face, then found hers, clutching tightly.

Jake didn’t wait. He barely slept. Nova had finally passed out against him sometime after three a.m., wrapped in his shirt, clinging to his chest like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

When the sun rose, so did he — a storm in flight gear.

Now, walking into the CO’s office with Nova just behind him, his eyes were cold. Focused. Explosive. Commander Bates looked up, surprised by the early intrusion.

“Lieutenant Seresin—”

Jake tossed the crumpled envelope and photo onto the desk. Nova stood just behind him, silent, face pale but unreadable.

“Lieutenant Ryder Armstrong left this at her home.”

Commander Bates picked up the letter. Read it. Then the photo.

“You found this at home?”

Jake nodded once. “Dropped at our fucking door.”

“And you believe Armstrong left this?”

“I know he did.”

Commander Bates exhaled slowly. “Jake, this is serious. But if his name’s not on the note—”

Jake slammed his hand down on the desk, hard enough to make Bates flinch.

“I don’t give a shit about a name,” he growled. “The man has been circling her like a shark for weeks. Saying things. Getting in her space. Leaving notes. Watching her. And now this? This is stalking. It’s harassment. You want to wait for him to leave a fucking knife next time?”

“Lieutenant Sere—”

“No, don’t Lieutenant me!” His voice cracked with fury. “She’s terrified. She didn’t sleep last night. She hasn’t eaten. I had to hold her while she shook like a leaf because she’s scared of a man we *work* with.”

Commander Bates looked over to Nova. Her eyes met his — steady, but dim.

“I want to act,” he said slowly. “But you know the chain. If we don’t have concrete evidence—”

Jake laughed — sharp, dangerous. “You think this isn’t concrete enough?”

“I’m saying if we accuse him now and it doesn’t stick, he walks. And then he knows we’re watching. And that’s when men like him get sloppy — or worse.”

Jake leaned in. “Then you better find something that sticks, sir. Because I’m telling you right now — if you don’t act, I will, and what I do won’t come with a paper trail.”

Commander Bates didn’t respond at first.

Then: “I’ll have him pulled from the rotation. Grounded. Quietly. And we’ll put eyes on him. Officially and unofficially.”

Jake nodded, tight-lipped. “Good.”

“And Lieutenant Seresin,” Nash said, “I need your promise that you won’t escalate this on your own.”

Jake didn’t answer right away.

When he did, his voice was quiet — and full of fire.

“My only promise is that I’ll keep her safe. Whatever that costs.”

He turned to Nova, taking her hand again, and led her out of the office. They walked in silence until they reached the lot. Jake stopped beside the truck, looking down at her.

“I’m not letting him touch another breath of your life.”

Nova leaned into his chest, closing her eyes. “I know.” And for the first time in days, she almost felt safe again.

[darlingyougotthis]

Talk To Me

Jake “Hangman”Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Three: Tension Rises

The house was quiet when they came home. Golden light spilled through the windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor as Nova dropped her gear bag by the door and toed off her boots. She barely spoke.

Jake watched her from the kitchen, arms folded, shoulder leaning against the doorframe.

“Nova. You’ve been quiet all day,” he said softly.

Nova glanced up from where she was unzipping her flight suit. “I’m fine.”

Jake didn’t buy it. He never did.

He stepped forward, cupped her face in his hand, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You sure?”

She smiled. A little too quickly. “Of course.”

His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know.”

She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his middle, and stayed there — breathing him in. For a second, he felt her truly relax.

But it passed quickly.

The next day, the sim block was unusually crowded. Nova was early — always early — but Ryder was already there. He stood near the interface screen, arms crossed, chewing on a toothpick like he had nowhere else to be.

“Seresin not around?” he asked, the moment she walked in.

Nova ignored him and went to her station. Her helmet clutched loosely under her arm.

“Guess that means I get the top partner today,” he added, moving to the simulator beside hers.

“You weren’t assigned to me.”

“No one else claimed you.”

She slid her helmet on and didn’t reply.

During the run, Ryder stayed close — too close. His formation was tight, his calls unusually timed. When they finished, he leaned toward her cockpit window as she pulled her helmet off.

“You’re like lightning in a dive,” he said. “Deadly and beautiful.”

“Don’t.”

He grinned. “I’m just saying, Jake doesn’t deserve to be the only one who sees you fly that way.”

Nova froze. Her jaw clenched. She turned away — only to catch Jake entering the room behind them. Jake’s gaze flicked to her, then to Ryder and when Nova subtly shifted away from Ryder’s proximity, Jake’s jaw ticked once.

The beach was warm and buzzing.

The squad had called an unofficial break — beers, volleyball, bad music. For a few golden hours, the tension of flight school was stripped away by salt air and sand.

Nova sat in between Jake’s legs, her back to his chest, legs stretched across his. He was pressed against her like he couldn’t bear distance — hands roaming lazily over her thighs, lips brushing just beneath her ear.

“I swear you’re trying to wreck me in this bikini,” he murmured, nuzzling her.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“I *do* love it. Love you, Darling.”

Nova smiled, resting her head back against his shoulder. It was the first time she’d felt peace in days. The first time she felt like Ryder wasn’t—

Her eyes flicked up past the group to the left and there he was. Shirt off, dog tags visible, arms crossed over his chest. Watching. Not playing. Not drinking. Not laughing with the others. Just staring. Jake didn’t see him — too busy kissing the slope of her neck. Nova stiffened slightly. Just enough for Jake to pause.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just warm.”

He kissed her cheek and didn’t push.

But her peace was gone.

After drills the next day, Jake cornered her near the lockers.

“You’ve been off.”

“I’m fine.”

“Nova…”

She looked up at him, eyes bright but unreadable. “I swear.”

Jake hesitated, then dropped his voice. “Is it Ryder?”

Her pulse jumped. “What?”

“He keeps looking at you. Too long. Too often.”

Nova tried to laugh it off. “He’s just new. Probably feels out of place.”

Jake didn’t smile. “So why do you keep flinching when he’s around?”

She didn’t answer.

Jake stepped closer, brushing her cheek. “Tell me if something’s wrong.”

“I promise,” she whispered. “If it gets bad.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Define bad.”

That night Nova stayed late. She told Jake she had notes to finish. He offered to wait — she insisted he go home.

The locker room was dim when she returned. She opened her locker, tossed in her tablet, and—

Another note. Folded. Clean. Her name again, in that same deliberate script.

This one was longer.

“You’re a storm in the sky. I dream about you every time you fly. The way your body moves in that cockpit — every angle, every turn — I see you. I feel you. You don’t belong to him.”

Nova crumpled it in shaking hands. Footsteps echoed down the corridor. She didn’t breathe. Then—

“Late night again, Nova?”

Ryder.

She didn’t turn.

“Busy girl.”

She slammed her locker shut and walked past him without a word. His eyes followed her all the way down the hallway.

The Hard Deck was crowded that Friday night.

Jake had an arm around Nova’s waist, beer in hand, fingers tapping against her hip in time to the music. She leaned into him, smiling, laughing at something Rooster said — trying to shake the ice still clinging to her ribs.

Then she looked up.

Ryder was at the bar. He wasn’t drinking. He was staring. At her.

Jake followed her gaze — and saw it.

Saw *him*.

Saw the way Nova instantly turned away.

Jake’s face darkened. He slid his beer onto the table, pulled Nova closer, and kissed her. Not possessively. Not for show, but slowly. Deeply. When he pulled away, he looked across the bar again. Ryder was gone.

[darlingyougotthis]

Talk To Me

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Two: Unwanted Attention

NSFW - Explicit Content

Morning wrapped the room in a golden hush, soft and slow, as if even time itself wanted to stay a little longer. Nova stirred beneath the covers, her cheek pressed against Jake’s bare chest, legs tangled with his under the sheet. She didn’t open her eyes — not yet — content to just feel him breathe.

Jake’s hand moved lazily along her spine, fingers tracing the line from her neck to the small of her back like he was drawing something he wanted to remember forever.

“Morning,” she whispered into his skin.

“Hi, baby,” Jake murmured, voice gravel and warmth.

She looked up, met his sleepy eyes, and smiled.

Jake leaned down and kissed her — sweet, slow, reverent. His hand slid beneath her shirt, palm warm against her ribs.

“I don’t want to get up,” she mumbled into his mouth.

“Then don’t.”

Nova’s hand moved down his chest, fingers light, teasing. She kissed his jaw, his neck, the hollow of his throat. Jake tilted his head back, exhaling sharply when her palm slid over the waistband of his boxers and eased inside.

“Shit…” he whispered, his hips twitching up into her hand. “You’re gonna ruin me, Nova.”

She smiled against his skin, loving the way he already sounded wrecked.

“I hope so.”

He caught her wrist gently, stilling her movement. His eyes were dark now, intense. Jake rolled her onto her back, pushing the sheets away, kissing his way down her chest, her stomach, until he was between her legs. Nova gasped when his mouth found her, one hand gripping the sheets, the other buried in his hair.

“Jake…” she moaned, her back arching.

He took his time, gentle but thorough, his fingers working in perfect rhythm with his mouth until her thighs were shaking and her breath came in ragged moans. When she finally came, it was with a choked whisper of his name, her whole body trembling beneath his hands. Jake kissed her inner thigh, then her hip, then slid back up her body, pressing soft kisses to her chest, her collarbone, her lips.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Nova nodded, eyes glassy, lips parted. “Please…”

Jake brushed his thumb across her cheek. “You want me to—”

“Now,” she whispered. “Jake, please. I need you.”

He slid into her slowly, carefully, watching her the whole time like the moment deserved a witness. Nova gasped, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her nails dragging lightly down his back as he moved. There was no urgency. Just closeness. Just connection.

Jake kissed her — long, deep, open-mouthed — as their bodies rocked together in a rhythm only they knew. Her legs curled around his waist, her hips lifting to meet every tender thrust.

“You feel so good,” he whispered against her lips. “So perfect around me.”

She cupped his face with both hands. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he breathed, voice cracking.

And when they came — together — it was quiet and powerful, a soft unraveling that left them clinging to each other, breathless and shaking. Jake didn’t move. Just stayed there, forehead pressed to hers, heart thundering against her chest.Nothing had ever felt more right.

Nova and Jake arrived late.

Not irresponsibly late. Just enough to make a statement.

The moment they stepped onto the tarmac — her braid still damp from the shower, his uniform collar relaxed just enough to suggest a slow morning — the teasing began.

Rooster spotted them first and smirked over his aviators. “Jesus. About time.”

Coyote clapped his hands together. “Golden couple walks in, sunshine behind them, like it’s a damn perfume commercial.”

Phoenix shook her head. “You both reek of sex and smugness.”

Jake didn’t flinch. He slung an arm over Nova’s shoulder, pressing a lazy kiss to her temple. “We had a long night. Needed fuel.”

“More like a morning lesson,” Fanboy added with a grin. “A little hands-on training?”

Jake squeezed Nova’s shoulder. “What can I say? She’s a great motivator.”

Nova smacked his chest lightly, laughing despite herself. Then rolled her eyes, with a light smirk lingering on her lips. “You’re all insufferable.”

Jake winked down at her. “They’re jealous, baby. Can’t blame ‘em.”

The team laughed and moved on toward their prep. But across the hangar, leaning casually near a tool cabinet, Ryder Armstrong didn’t move.

He just watched.

His expression unreadable. Chin slightly lifted. Eyes tracking every brush of Jake’s hand against Nova’s back.

Then it began. It began with small moments. Tiny ones. Measured in eye contact. In proximity. In timing.

Later that day, Nova was bent beneath the wing of her jet, doing post-flight checks. She wiped oil from her fingers, muttering quietly to herself as she ran through her maintenance checklist.

“You fly like you’re being chased by something,” came a voice behind her.

She straightened up slowly. Ryder. He leaned beside the toolbox, watching herwith mild interest, arms crossed over his chest like they were sharing a casual chat.

Nova didn’t smile. “It’s called efficiency.”

“It’s called tension,” he replied. “You’ve got this way of gripping the yoke like it owes you something. Intense. Sexy, if I’m honest.”

She blinked once. “It’s a jet. Not a date.”

He grinned. “Some of us get turned on by skill.”

Nova returned to her checklist without responding.

Ryder tilted his head. “I think it’s the contrast, really. You—so poised, so in control. Then there’s Seresin…”

She looked up at that.

Ryder went on. “He clings to you like he’s afraid someone’s going to steal you out from under him.”

Her jaw tightened.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he added, pushing away from the cabinet. “It’s hot. Possessive guys usually are. But it’s obsessive too, right? The way he’s always touching you. Like if he lets go, you’ll disappear.”

Nova stared at him. Cold. Direct.

“That supposed to be a compliment?”

Ryder gave a lazy shrug. “Just an observation.”

“Well, here’s mine,” she said. “You talk too much.”

She turned and walked away.

His voice followed — softer now, just for her. “You should smile more when you fly.”

It didn’t stop there. If anything, Ryder became more present. Always nearby — never inappropriate, never enough to call him out. Just enough to remind her he was watching.

In the simulator debrief, he sat three chairs down and leaned in when she spoke. “Your instincts in the canyon drop — sharp. Controlled. You move like you’ve done it a hundred times in your sleep.”

Nova gave a clipped nod. “That’s the point of training.”

“Still,” he added, “it’s impressive. You make the rest of us look sloppy.”

Later, in the locker room corridor, she passed him on her way out. He gave a nod.

“Nice braid today.”

She didn’t reply.

Then he winked and walked off.

She didn’t tell Jake because it wasn’t… *technically* anything. Just words. Just proximity. Just attention.

But it kept happening.

Ryder never stepped too close, never said anything overtly offensive. Always just enough to make her skin crawl *afterward*, when she replayed the conversations in her head.

Once, she caught him watching her stretch after drills, head tilted, expression unreadable. When she looked at him, he smiled.

Another time, she returned to her locker to find it slightly ajar. Nothing was missing. Nothing was out of place.

Except her hoodie was folded. She hadn’t folded it.

Then came the parking lot.

It was midday. Lunch had just wrapped, the team scattering to get some air before their afternoon sim blocks. Jake had gone to the admin wing. Nova said she’d meet him in ten.

She needed a breather. Alone. She cut across the tarmac, her boots thudding softly against the concrete, eyes scanning the half-empty lot. Then she saw him.

Ryder.

Leaning against the fence, phone in hand. Seemingly casual. But the moment her foot hit the pavement — he looked up and smiled. Nova’s steps slowed slightly, then resumed. Maybe he was waiting for a call. Maybe he was meeting someone.

Until he fell into step beside her.

“You always walk that fast,” he asked, “or just when you’re trying to stay ahead of something?”

Nova’s reply was immediate. “Just when I’m not interested.”

He chuckled — not insulted. “So you’re saying I need to slow down?”

“I’m saying you need to back off.”

Ryder glanced sideways at her. “You and Jake… you’ve been a thing for a while, right?”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Everyone knows that.”

Ryder tilted his head as they crossed the row of parked vehicles. “You know what’s funny? Everyone thinks Jake’s got you wrapped up tight. But I think you let him. I think you like being looked at like that — like you’re someone’s entire reason for breathing.”

She stopped walking.

Turned to him.

She slowed, turning slightly. “You done?”

Ryder smiled again. “For now.”

Then he peeled off toward the far end of the lot — like he hadn’t followed her at all.

Later, when Nova stepped into the locker room alone, the silence hit different.

She changed slowly, brain buzzing, the she opened her locker. There it was. A folded note. No envelope. Just her name. *Nova.* She stared at it for a long moment before reaching for it. The message inside was short.

“You looked better in that black tank than your flight suit. You should wear it more often.”

Her fingers tightened around the paper.

This wasn’t casual.

This wasn’t friendly.

This was calculated.

Nova folded it carefully. Slipped it into her bag and this time, when she left the room, she didn’t just glance over her shoulder. She scanned the hallway.

Nova’s fingers tremble around her duffel as she walks across the dimly lit tarmac. The sky is beginning to blush with sunset, casting the base in a soft gold haze, but it doesn’t feel warm. Not to her. Every footstep sounds louder, the shadows longer, Ryder’s presence lingering even in his absence.

Jake’s truck is parked near the chain-link fence, dusted in salt and sun. He’s already leaning against it, arms crossed loosely over his chest, still in his flight suit with the zipper pulled halfway down. He straightens when he sees her, a soft grin tugging at the edge of his mouth—the kind that usually makes her feel like the world could collapse around them and it would still be okay.

But tonight, it just makes her chest ache.

“You took your time,” he says, voice gentle as always. “Everything alright?”

Nova lifts her chin, lips pulling into a practiced smile. “Yeah. Just had to wrap up a few things.” She slides her sunglasses up onto her head and shrugs, eyes avoiding his.

Jake watches her for a second longer than usual. Then he pushes off the truck and opens the passenger side door for her. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Inside, the truck is warm, and the scent of him—clean, sun-drenched, familiar—wraps around her like a blanket she wants to burrow into. As he pulls away from the base, one hand on the wheel, the other finds her thigh, curling over it softly.

It’s such a simple thing. Just the weight of his hand there. A grounding comfort. Nova keeps her eyes on the road ahead. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t trust her voice. Jake doesn’t speak either—not until they pull into his driveway and the truck idles in the quiet dark.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jake asks, glancing over at her. His voice is lower now, concerned. “You’re quiet.”

Nova blinks, then forces a light laugh. “I’m fine, really.”

She turns toward him and leans in—just enough. One hand on his jaw, she kisses him softly, slowly. She deepens it just slightly, enough to make his shoulders relax and his fingers tighten possessively on her leg.

When she pulls back, her smile is a little brighter, her eyes a little shinier, her voice is soft. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Jake’s eyes search hers for a long moment. His hand squeezes her thigh again, grounding her. She can feel the worry radiating off him.

He narrows his eyes just a bit, like he’s not convinced, but he lets it go. But he nods anyway. “Okay. If you say so.” Let’s get inside.”

Nova climbs out of the truck, jacket zipped up tight even in the warmth of the evening, the letter still pressed to her side like a secret screaming to be heard.

But she stays quiet. For now.

[darlingyougotthis]

Talk To Me

Chapter One: The New Pilot

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Female OC names Nova “Ava” Brooke. Everyone calls her Nova.

The heat clung to her skin like sweat.

It was a dry kind of sticky—the kind that left salt drying in the corners of her eyes and the sun casting golden light across her exposed collarbones. The runways at Naval Air Station North Island shimmered under the weight of the late afternoon haze, the world around her humming with jet engines, radio chatter, and the unmistakable buzz of adrenaline.

Nova had just stepped out of her cockpit, flight helmet tucked under one arm, her blonde braid damp at the ends from the helmet’s suffocating heat. Her cheeks were pink with exertion, blue eyes lit with the afterglow of another flawless run. She hadn’t even unzipped her flight suit yet, but sweat clung to the curve of her neck and the base of her spine.

Someone whistled low behind her.

She didn’t even have to look.

Jake Seresin spotted her before she spotted him.

He moved towards with ease, pulling off his own helmet, green flight suit unzipped halfway. His white undershirt clung to the planes of his chest, neck damp from sweat and salt. His hair was a windswept mess and his smirk was lazy—until he saw her.

Jake’s voice had that cocky lilt to it—the one that made her stomach flip and her chest warm. “You always look this good after a flight, or are you just trying to distract me, baby?” he called, voice rich and unmistakable. Jake wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You were flawless up there.”

She smiled into his shoulder. “You’re just saying that because I made you look slow.”

“Slow?” Jake leaned back to look at her. “You cheated.”

“I maneuvered.”

“You exploited a blind spot.”

“I capitalized on your overconfidence.”

Jake groaned and kissed her again—this time, just behind her ear. “I swear to God, Ava…”

Her real name, whispered just for her. Nova laughed and leaned into him. Jake just smirked, tugging her tighter against him as they walked back toward the hangar. “Tell me again how lucky I am?”

She elbowed him gently in the ribs. “You’re lucky.”

“Damn right I am.”

He kissed her again—quick, like he couldn’t help himself—and she leaned into it, barely caring that they were still in full view of the other aviators. They were used to it. She and Jake were Top Gun’s golden couple. The kind of pairing that made others believe in soulmates, or at least the military’s version of one. Steady, magnetic, untouchable.

Nova was used to the stares by now.

Used to the whispers.

Used to eyes following her the second she entered a room.

The new pilot arrived with no ceremony. He was already waiting by the time Nova and Jake reached the locker room entrance, leaned against the concrete wall like he owned it. Unzipped flight suit. Black undershirt. Aviators he didn’t need at this hour.

“Lieutenant Armstrong,” Cyclone had introduced earlier in the day. “Ryder. Transfer from Fallon. Scored top five in his class. You’ll be flying with him tomorrow, Nova.”

She’d nodded, polite. Neutral. She hadn’t registered anything out of the ordinary. Not until now.

Now, Ryder’s eyes flicked up and down her figure with a slowness that made her want to zip her suit back up.

Jake’s hand curled tighter on her waist.

“Nova,” Ryder said, with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Everyone here talks about you.”

“Do they?” she asked evenly.

“They do,” he said. “You’ve got… quite the reputation.”

Nova gave him the thinnest smile she could without seeming rude. “Oh…thank you. Well. Welcome to North Island.”

Jake said nothing, just watched. Ryder didn’t acknowledge him.

Nova’s brow twitched. “This is Lieutenant Seresin.”

That got a reaction. Ryder’s smile widened, just a hair. “Of course. Callsign ‘Hangman.’ Heard a lot about you too.”

Jake’s stare was flat. “All good things, I hope.”

Ryder grinned. “Naturally.”

The air went still for a second too long.

Nova cleared her throat. “We’ll see you in the air, Lieutenant.”

She and Jake turned together, walking away, his hand never leaving her back.

“You don’t like him,” she murmured.

Jake didn’t answer right away. Then: “His smile’s too fast. Something’s off.”

Nova didn’t disagree.

The Hard Deck was buzzing by sundown.

A salty breeze rolled in off the water, lifting strands of Nova’s hair as she leaned against the bar, fingers curled around a cold bottle of beer. The jukebox hummed something lazy and southern, the kind of song that made the heat feel heavier. Laughter echoed off the worn wooden walls, boots thudded across the floorboards, pool balls cracked in the distance.

Jake stood behind her, tall and warm, one arm lazily wrapped around her waist. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, his mouth dangerously close to her neck.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low enough for only her, “you keep standing there looking like that, and I’m going to do something irresponsible.”

Nova took a slow sip of her drink, not turning around. “Define irresponsible.”

“Taking you home early,” Jake said, brushing his nose against her cheek, “and forgetting about sleep entirely.”

She bit her lip. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

His mouth grazed her skin—just behind her ear. Featherlight. “Promise.”

Nova turned slightly, eyes catching the golden glint in his. She reached up and tugged at the collar of his shirt playfully, then kissed him softly, slowly. Jake groaned low against her lips and deepened it for just a second before pulling back, breathing hard.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him again. Ryder Armstrong. Alone at the far end of the bar. His drink sat untouched on the table. He wasn’t talking. Wasn’t looking at anyone else. Just her.

Jess, one of the junior lieutenants, leaned into Ryder’s space, clearly trying to start a conversation. Ryder barely blinked. He didn’t acknowledge her. Didn’t even flinch. His eyes were glued to Nova.

Nova straightened slightly. Jake caught it.

“What’s up?” he asked, instantly alert.

“We’ve got an audience,” she said softly, nodding subtly in Ryder’s direction.

Jake followed her gaze, and his jaw ticked—just once.

Then, without missing a beat, he looked back at her.

“Then let’s give him a show,” he said.

He pulled her into another kiss—deeper, slower, with just enough heat to make her toes curl. One of his hands trailed up her back, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to rest on the warm skin of her waist. She melted into him, fingers in his hair, breath caught.

When they pulled apart, her face was flushed, and Jake’s grin was downright dangerous.

Nova buried her head in his chest, laughing into his shirt. “You’re such a menace.”

“You love it.”

She did.

The pool balls cracked like thunder under the low hum of music and laughter. Jake was mid-turn, cue stick in hand, his gaze flicking between the felt and Rooster’s smirking face.

“Call your shot, Hangman,” Rooster drawled.

Jake just grinned. “Why? You gonna get lucky and actually make yours?”

Nova leaned her hip against the edge of the table, sipping her beer. She could tell by the way Jake lined up his shot he wasn’t paying full attention—he didn’t need to. He was a little too relaxed tonight, a little too focused on touching her thigh or brushing her wrist every time she passed.

“I’m going to get some air,” she said quietly, tilting her head toward him.

Jake straightened, cue resting against his boot. “You want me to come?”

She smiled, soft. “No, you stay. I’ll be two minutes.”

His eyes searched hers. Just a beat longer than necessary. Then he leaned in, warm palm cradling her jaw, and kissed her—featherlight, just enough to feel it.

“Don’t go running off on me, Nova,” he said, low.

“I never do,” she whispered.

He let her go with a reluctant nod.

The deck behind the Hard Deck was quieter than the main bar, lit only by a few string lights overhead and the soft pink haze of the ocean sky just beyond. Nova stepped into the breeze, letting the salty air cool her skin. The music behind her faded into a dull thump, and she let herself exhale.

She was halfway through another sip when the door behind her creaked open.

Ryder Armstrong stepped up beside her, not too close, but not far enough.

He was casual, relaxed. Beer bottle loose in his hand, flight suit replaced with jeans and a dark t-shirt that made his eyes look greener than they had any right to be.

“You looked like you needed air,” he said, glancing at her from the side.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he replied easily. “Just thought you might want company.”

Nova turned to face him now, resting one elbow on the railing. “I’ve got company.”

Ryder’s eyes flicked through the window toward the bar. Jake was still at the counter, back turned, arm slung over the high stool as he laughed with Fanboy.

“Yeah,” Ryder said. “Seresin.”

Something in the way he said it made her stomach tighten.

“You know,” he continued, “I’ve seen a lot of pilots try to pull off that whole golden couple thing. Doesn’t usually stick.”

Nova blinked slowly. “You came out here to tell me that?”

Ryder shrugged. “Just saying. You could do a hell of a lot better.”

There it was.

Not in his words—but in the way he said them. Measured. Confident. Like he believed it. Like he thought she would believe it, too.

Nova’s gaze hardened. “And you thought it might be you?”

His smile didn’t fade. “Didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds. The kind of silence that made the skin crawl under your clothes.

Finally, Nova leaned in just a fraction—not close, but deliberate.

“I don’t know what you think this is, Ryder. Maybe you’re just used to people folding when you flash that little smile. But I’m not interested. Not now. Not ever.”

Still, his eyes didn’t move. Still, he smiled like she was playing into something he’d expected all along.

“I like a woman who knows what she wants,” he said quietly.

She took a step back. “Then take the hint.”

She turned, walked toward the door, and didn’t look back.

But as she reached for the handle, he said one more thing.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Nova. I see things other people miss.”

She froze for just a second. Then she pushed the door open and stepped inside, heart pounding a little faster than before.

She stepped back into the bar, the warmth of the crowd hitting her like a wall. Her heartbeat still hadn’t slowed.

Jake had moved from the pool table and was now standing near their booth, scanning the crowd. When his eyes landed on her, his shoulders relaxed instantly.

Nova crossed to him in a few quick steps, sliding into his arms like gravity demanded it.

Jake pulled her in without a word, one hand cradling the back of her head as he kissed her forehead gently.

“You okay?” he murmured, looking down at her.

She nodded, pressing her cheek to his chest. “I’m always okay with you.”

Jake smiled and tilted her chin up to kiss her. This time it wasn’t quick. It lingered. When they broke apart, his fingers still rested on her jaw and from across the room, just for a second, Nova thought she saw Ryder again—half-shadowed, watching. But when she blinked, he was gone.

[darlingyougotthis]

Love In The Sky

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Part Nine: The Mission

The sky was a muted gray over the carrier deck, the wind brisk with salt and tension. Waves slapped the hull of the ship far below, but up here, everything felt too still — the kind of eerie calm that settled right before chaos. Jets lined the deck, gleaming under the early morning light, waiting to be unleashed.

Nova stood beside her aircraft, helmet tucked under her arm, her face a perfect mask of control. But Jake saw it — the tightness around her eyes, the way her fingers clenched the edge of her flight suit.

He approached her slowly, cutting through the pre-mission bustle, his own heart beating steady and strong for her. He didn’t say a word, not until he was close enough to feel her body heat, to hear her sharp little breath when she noticed him standing there.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing a gloved knuckle under her jaw to tilt her face toward his.

Nova gave him a small smile. It was real, but tired — the kind of smile people wore when they had too much to lose.

Jake leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. “You with me?”

“Always,” she whispered, letting her hand rest over his chest, right above his heart. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

“I will if you will,” he breathed, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “I’ve got plans, baby. Can’t do them without you.”

She nodded once, tightly. The tension never left her eyes.

From the bridge above, Admiral Brooke stood behind the observation glass, arms folded, watching them. Watching his daughter.

Minutes later, they launched.

The sky cracked open with the roar of six jets streaking through it — Nova, Jake, Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote flying like the world depended on them. Because today, maybe it did.

The first leg of the mission was smooth, surgical even. Tight formations, flawless execution. Mav’s training echoed in their ears, their instincts sharp. Nova flew point with Coyote flanking her. Jake trailed in back, hawk-eyed and tense.

Then the warning blared.

“Bandits. Ten o’clock. Fast movers.”

Jake’s blood turned to ice. “Nova, break right. Now.”

She did — sharp, fast — like second nature. Coyote followed, Rooster peeled left, and the comms filled with clipped, focused chatter. They engaged. Fast, hard, precise.

Then it happened.

A flash — a shimmer of light across metal. A missile fired wide but clipped Nova’s wing. Not enough to take her down — but enough to send her spinning.

“Nova—Nova, pull up! PULL UP!”

“Shit—control’s not—responding—” Her voice crackled through the comms, then—

Silence. Gone.

“Nova? NOVA!” Jake’s voice ripped through the comms. “Goddammit, Nova, talk to me!”

But nothing came back.

The radar blinked. Then blinked again. Then vanished.

On the carrier, in the command room, Admiral Brooke stepped forward from his position behind the comms desk. His face drained of color as his daughter’s call sign disappeared off the screen. The air in the room thickened.

“Try her again,” someone said urgently.

But Jake was already shouting. “Baby—come on, come on. Don’t do this. Talk to me!”

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Seconds dragged into lifetimes. The longest minute of Jake’s life stretched across eternity.

On the carrier, Admiral Brooke’s hand gripped the table so tightly his knuckles went white. His face didn’t show it, but behind the stone was something raw. He wasn’t a commander in that moment. He was a father.

Then—

“I’m—here.”

Static. Then clearer.

“Control restored. I’m—damn—little shaken. Still flying.”

Her voice. Weak, but alive.

Jake let out a broken laugh, shoulders slumping. “Jesus fucking Christ, Nova. Don’t ever do that again.”

Rooster’s voice followed. “We’ve got her. Bringing her home.”

Jake stayed on her tail the whole way back. Never once took his eyes off her wing. Like if he looked away for even a second, she’d vanish again.

They landed as the sun began to lower behind the ocean, painting the sky in amber streaks. Nova’s boots hit the carrier deck and Jake was already there. She barely got her helmet off before he grabbed her. He crushed her against him, arms wrapped so tight she gasped, her hands gripping his suit like she might fall apart without him.

“I thought I lost you,” Jake said, voice thick, jaw tight as he buried his face in her neck. “I was so fucking scared, baby. You just—went silent.”

Nova nuzzled into him, her body still trembling. “I know. I know. I’m sorry—I couldn’t… The comms just—”

He pulled back just enough to cup her jaw, his eyes stormy and wild. “Don’t you dare apologize. You came back. That’s all I care about.”

She touched his face, fingertips gentle against the rough line of his jaw. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m still alive.”

His lips were almost on hers when someone cleared their throat.

They both turned. Admiral Brooke stood there, hands behind his back, face unreadable. Jake instinctively stepped away, his hand still hovering near Nova’s back.

Nova’s eyes met her father’s and something shifted. The Admiral took a step forward. Looked at her — really looked at her — like a man who had nearly lost everything and wasn’t sure how to say it.

Nova stepped forward too, and then suddenly they were hugging. Her arms around her father’s stiff frame, his hand briefly pressing to the back of her head.

“You’re fine?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m fine.”

He nodded and stepped back.

Then he turned to Jake. Jake straightened. Admiral Brooke stared at him a long second. Then, quietly, he extended a hand. Jake took it. The grip was firm. Strong. Meant something.

Then the Admiral leaned in just slightly and said, “Don’t ever hurt her, Lieutenant. Or I’ll send you on a mission so deep, you’ll never come back.”

Jake didn’t flinch. “You don’t have to worry about that, sir. I’d never dream of it.”

They both nodded. Then the Admiral walked away.

Jake turned to Nova, who was already smiling up at him. She glowed in the golden light, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in relief.

He brushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

Nova rolled her eyes with a laugh. “And you’re so full of shit.”

He laughed, tugged her close. “You love it.”

“I love you,” she said, just as the sea breeze rolled in and tangled her hair.

Jake leaned in and kissed her — slow, tender, reverent.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered into her lips.

They stood there together on the deck, wrapped in wind and salt and survival — alive, together, and unbreakable.

[darlingyougotthis]

Love In The Love

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Part Eight: The Conversation

NSFW - Explicit Content

Nova hadn’t spoken to her father since the night of the ball. Not a call. Not a message. Not a word. And she was fine. Perfectly fine. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

In the air, she was flawless—fast, precise, mechanical. Her hands never faltered on the controls, her voice stayed calm over comms. But Jake could see through it. He saw it in the way she stayed behind after every debrief, zoning out as she stared at flight footage. In the way her smile dimmed the second they were off base. In the way she curled tighter into his side at night, like she needed to ground herself.

And tonight, as she sat beside him on the couch—bare-faced and in one of his shirts, her legs over his thighs as his hands rub over her bare legs—Jake watched her as looked at the screen but wasn’t watching the movie.

“You okay, baby?” he said gently, rubbing slow circles into her knee. “You seem…distracted.”

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, flashing a quick smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

Jake leaned closer, brow furrowed. “Baby.”

She stiffened. Jake watched her for a long moment.

“You haven’t been fine since the ball.”

She didn’t respond.

“I know it’s your dad,” Jake said softly. “I know what he said to you hurt.”

“It’s nothing new,” she muttered.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still cut deep.”

Nova didn’t turn around. Didn’t speak.

Jake stepped closer, resting his hands gently on her waist. “You can talk to me, baby.”

She turned finally, looking up at him — eyes guarded.

“I’m okay, Jake,” she said, a little too quickly. “Really.”

He kissed her forehead, letting it go. For now. But he didn’t believe her. So the next morning, while she trained, Jake made his way to Admiral Brooke’s office.

The knock on the door was firm, but his palms were sweating. When the Admiral’s voice called “Enter,” Jake squared his shoulders and stepped inside. The office was just like the man — minimal, sharp, and cold. Commendations and service plaques lined the walls. A photo of Lilly Brooke sat in the corner, delicate and smiling, forever frozen in time.

Admiral Brooke didn’t look up. “Lieutenant Seresin.”

“Sir.”

“What brings you to my office?”

Jake swallowed and stepped forward.

“It’s Nova, sir. I mean—Lieutenant Brooke.”

That got his attention. The Admiral lifted his head, steely eyes narrowing.

“She’s been off,” Jake said carefully. “Still sharp in the air, but she’s shutting down. Won’t talk to me. I think what happened at the ball… what you said… it got to her.”

Admiral Brooke raised a brow. “She’s a grown woman. A pilot.”

“She’s also your daughter.”

Silence.

Jake took a breath. “I love her, sir. I didn’t plan to. It just happened. But I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Admiral Brooke studied him, unreadable and after a beat of silence, Admiral Brooke looked back down at the papers on his desk. “You’re dismissed.”

Jake didn’t argue. Just nodded once and left.

Later that afternoon, Jake walked with Nova toward the hangar. She nudged him with her elbow.

“Where’ve you been, cowboy?”

Jake smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair. “Classified.”

“Mmhm,” she said, suspicious.

Jake pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Just had some paperwork to square away.”

She nodded, buying the lie, and slipped her hand into his as they walked toward the jets.

That evening, Nova left the locker room with her hair still damp from the shower, tugging her jacket over her flight suit when a voice called out behind her.

“Ava.”

She turned. Her father. He looked… less sharp than usual. Less composed. There were tired lines under his eyes, and something unreadable behind them.

“Got a moment?” he asked.

Nova’s heart skipped as she nodded. She followed him down the corridor in silence until they entered an empty classroom overlooking the runway. The sun was starting to set outside, casting the room in a dusty amber glow. Her father stood at the window, staring out for a long beat.

Then, without turning around, he spoke.

“Lieutenant Seresin came to see me.”

Nova’s stomach dropped.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

She shook her head, breath caught.

“He stood in my office and told me you were hurting. That he was worried about you.” His voice tightened. “That he loves you.”

Nova’s eyes shimmered. “He… what did you say?”

“I said nothing.” He turned to face her. “Because I didn’t have the words. Not at first.”

She waited, the silence stretching.

“But I thought about it. About how I’ve handled things. About how I’ve tried to raise you by holding on so tightly, I didn’t realize I was choking you.”

Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t try to blink them away.

“You are just like your mother,” he said quietly. “And not just your face. You have her strength. Her stubbornness. Her courage.”

Nova’s breath hitched.

“I see her every time you fly. Every time you speak your mind. I spent years trying to mold you into something… when you were already becoming someone she would’ve been proud of.”

She moved before she could stop herself, straight into his arms. He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair.

“You’ll always be my daughter,” he murmured. “But you’re not a little girl anymore. And I’m sorry for making you feel like you needed my permission to live your life.”

“I love him,” Nova whispered. “I really do.”

He nodded, then stepped back just enough to look at her.

“Jake is a good man,” he said. “He fought for you without ever raising his voice. And I’d like to have dinner with both of you… when you get back.”

Nova’s smile trembled through the tears. “I’d like that.”

He saluted her — and this time, she returned it with pride.

That night, Jake opened his front door to find Nova standing there, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. He didn’t get a word out before she launched herself into his arms and kissed him like she was drowning in everything he was.

He stumbled back, gripping her waist. “What was that for?”

She smiled, breathless. “For being the man who loves me.”

His heart thudded. “He talked to you?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “He did. And we’re having dinner with him when we get back.”

Jake stared at her in awe — until she pressed her lips to his again. Jake barely had time to process it before her hands were on him—pushing him back into the living room, her mouth covering his in a kiss that burned through the air between them.

She pulled away only to whisper, “Sit.”

Jake dropped onto the couch, his eyes dark with heat as she climbed into his lap, knees bracketing his thighs. Her fingers slipped under his shirt and pushed it up, revealing the warm, sculpted ridges of his stomach and chest. She tugged it over his head and tossed it aside, then bent to kiss her way across his collarbone—slow and teasing

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice already rough. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You love me,” she whispered, trailing her lips down his sternum. “And I’m gonna show you how much I love you back.”

Jake’s hands gripped her hips as she slid down his body, her palms smoothing along his thighs. He groaned when her fingers worked open his pants, when she pulled him free and wrapped her lips around him in one smooth, devastating motion.

His head fell back against the cushion with a growl. “Fuck, Nova…”

She worked him slow and sweet, letting her mouth drag over him, her tongue swirling with the kind of intent that made his thighs tense under her hands. Every time he looked down, those wicked, adoring eyes met his—and he swore he’d never survive her.

When she pulled off with a slick pop and climbed back up, Jake’s hands gripped her thighs so hard they’d leave prints.

She straddled him again, lining herself up with a confident roll of her hips that had them both gasping.

Jake’s hands slid up her body, grabbing her waist, then her jaw. “You’re not playing fair, baby.”

Nova smirked, her breath catching as she moved again. “Since when do you want fair?”

Jake’s response was a growl—deep and low. His hands flexed once… then he flipped her, gently but firmly, laying her back on the couch cushions and looming over her.

“My turn.”

She barely had time to gasp before his mouth was at her neck, kissing her slow and open-mouthed, dragging down to her collarbone as he peeled her shirt up and over her head as she worked to remove the rest of the clothes. He took his time with her, every touch reverent, like she was something rare and holy. Then he kissed her—deep and filthy—and slid into her with one slow, claiming thrust that made her cry out.

They moved together like they were made to, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, his hands braced beside her head. Every roll of his hips was slow, deliberate, building heat with each thrust until Nova was trembling, her hands clutching his back.

Jake kissed her hard and moaned into her mouth, “Come with me, baby.”

And when she did—shaking, breathless, gasping his name—he followed with a groan against her throat, holding her like she was the only thing tethering him to this earth. They lay tangled together after, sweaty and bare, her head on his chest as his fingers traced lazy circles down her spine.

“I’m so fucking lucky to have you,” she whispered.

Jake kissed her forehead. “You’re mine, baby. Always.”

[darlingyougotthis]

Love In The Sky

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Part Seven: The Dress Blues Ball

NSFW - Explicit Content

The laughter was easy and the drinks were flowing. The Dagger Squad was already gathered near the bar, decked out in dress blues and polished heels, the air buzzing with comfort and camaraderie as they swapped stories between sips of whiskey and beer.

Rooster leaned back on his stool, his aviators tucked into the front of his uniform. Phoenix smirked over the rim of her glass. Bob and Coyote were debating something about altitude dynamics, but no one was really listening.

Then the door opened.

“Oh my god,” Phoenix breathed.

Every head turned and there she was. Nova.

She stood in the doorway, the silk of her deep navy dress catching the light like liquid midnight. The gown hugged her in all the right places — a twisted strap over each shoulder, the bodice molded to her slender waist before flowing down into a smooth, floor-length skirt that swayed as she moved. A thigh-high slit teased with every step, revealing a long, toned leg that looked entirely too lethal for a formal event.

Her hair was curled and loose, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, and her makeup was flawless — glowing skin, smoky eyes, a soft pink lip. She looked like the night had sculpted her from stardust and secrets.

And beside her, Jake.

Jake Seresin, standing tall and deadly in his dress blues. His medals gleamed under the lights, his jaw clean-shaven, his green eyes sharp and locked on her like she was the only thing worth seeing in the entire damn room.

His hand was on the small of her back — firm, claiming, protective.

They were art and fire and sin and elegance, all in one devastating pair.

As they moved across the room, Jake dipped his head slightly, murmuring something into Nova’s ear. She smiled, soft and secretive, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He noticed.

Her father stood by the bar, ramrod straight in his white uniform, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like his molars would crack. And beside him was Cora, her red lips twisted into something venomous and unblinking.

Jake felt Nova’s posture stiffen under his touch.

“You sure about this?” he whispered, close to her temple.

Nova didn’t answer right away. Her expression smoothed into something unreadable. “When it comes to you I’m always sure.”

Jake’s hand gave the smallest squeeze. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”

“I know.”

They reached the group and the tension shattered like glass. Phoenix let out a long whistle. “Lieutenant Brooke,” she said, dragging out the rank with a teasing smile, “You look like a damn goddess.”

Bob, sweet and stunned, grinned. “Wow, Nova…”

“Easy, Bob,” Jake drawled, one brow lifting as he pulled her in a little closer. “She’s taken.”

Nova gave him a warning glance, but he only grinned wider.

As the laughter eased, Phoenix stepped closer, placing a careful hand on Nova’s forearm.

“You okay?” she asked under her breath.

Nova hesitated, her eyes flitting toward her father again. “Ask me later.”

Phoenix gave her a look — one full of understanding — and nodded.

For a little while, it was easy. They laughed, drank, joined in the teasing. Jake didn’t leave her side once, his hand always resting somewhere — the small of her back, her waist, the crook of her arm. Every time she leaned into him, his body seemed to align around hers.

Jake stayed close to Nova, his hand never leaving her back. The two of them exchanged glances, barely-there touches, tiny shared smiles that spoke volumes without saying a word.

But across the room, Admiral Brooke hadn’t stopped watching.

His glare was unrelenting, eyes narrowed with judgment sharp enough to cut.

When Nova finally stepped away to get another drink, she felt it before she saw him — her body tensing, her breath drawing tight in her chest. Her father started walking toward her.

Nova turned just as he arrived beside her.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. Controlled. Dangerous.

Nova didn’t flinch. “Yes, sir.”

He didn’t smile. “Quite the performance, Ava.”

She froze. Her fingers tightened around her glass. “It’s not a performance.”

“You show up on the arm of that pilot—”

“His name is Jake.”

“—and parade yourself in front of everyone like this is some kind of high school prom?”

Nova’s face was carefully blank. Her voice didn’t waver. “I’m not parading anything. I’m attending a Navy event. With someone who respects me.”

“You’re making choices you can’t unmake,” he said coldly. “You’re jeopardizing everything you’ve built.”

“No,” she said quietly, “I’m finally building something for myself.”

Her father’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Yes,” Nova said, her chin lifting, “I do.”

“You’re making a mockery of everything you’ve worked for.”

“No,” she said, the steel beneath her tone undeniable. “I’m finally choosing what I want. You should be proud of me.”

“Proud?” he scoffed. “Of you clinging to a man and throwing what you’ve work for down the drain?”

“You don’t know him. He’s an incredible pilot. He’s respectful. He treats me well. And most importantly—” her voice dipped as her eyes locked with her father’s, “—he cares about me. He supports me.”

Her father shook his head, jaw flexing. “You’re not a child anymore, Ava. You need to grow up and…-”

“Exactly. I’m not a child anymore,” she said, interrupting him. “So stop treating me as one.”

For a moment, there was silence. Heavy. Unforgiving. Her father stared at her, and she saw something flicker in his eyes — a crack in the wall, a ghost of fear.

The silence between them was thunderous.

Then Nova took a breath.

“Jake loves me,” she said, quietly but firmly. “And I love him.”

Her father flinched — just slightly. But it was enough.

“I didn’t come here tonight to ask your permission. I came because I won’t hide anymore. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m not a cadet under your command. I am your daughter. And I deserve your respect.”

Admiral Brooke stared at her — a storm barely held behind his eyes and then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

Nova’s lungs heaved as she stood there alone. Her heart pounded in her ribs.

And that’s when she felt Jake.

His hand brushed gently against her waist. “You okay?” he asked, voice soft.

She didn’t answer right away. Just turned to him, eyes still misty, her expression somewhere between shaken and steady.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I know this—I’m lucky to have you.”

Jake smiled faintly and lowered his head, about to kiss her, but hesitated.

Nova leaned up and whispered, “Kiss me, Lieutenant…”

So he did. Gentle. Solid. Real.

Then, hand in hand, they returned to their squad. The room spun on. The world didn’t stop.

But Nova? She felt like she’d just taken her first breath in years.

The evening resumed in warmth and quiet joy. The squad welcomed them with open arms, even as subtle glances tracked their every movement.

But the danger wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Nova excused herself to the restroom, slipping through the crowd with grace. Her heels clicked softly on the tile floor as she stepped into the quiet corridor.

And waiting for her just outside the bathroom?

Cora.

Nova stopped short. “Let me guess. You’ve got something to say?”

Cora’s red lips curved into a vicious smile. “What do you think you’re playing at, Ava?”

Nova tilted her head. “Wow. Straight to the scolding.”

“You’ve embarrassed your father. Again. You’re an ungrateful little brat who doesn’t know how lucky she is. You think you can just throw your legacy away for some Texas flyboy—?”

“I knew it was you,” Nova said sharply, crossing her arms. “You’re the one who told him. About me and Jake.”

Cora didn’t deny it.

She stepped closer instead. “You’ll regret this. You always do. Maybe if you were more like your mother—”

“Don’t,” Nova warned, her voice low. “Don’t you dare bring her up.”

“Oh please,” Cora spat. “You think he loves you? You think he’ll stick around when things get hard?”

Nova’s fists clenched, jaw locked tight.

“You’re a selfish, disrespectful, ungrateful little bitch.”

“Say that again,” came a voice from behind them. Jake.

Cora turned — startled.

Jake stood in the corridor, rage etched into every line of his face, his body tense and vibrating with fury.

“I dare you to say that again.”

Cora’s expression twisted. “This doesn’t concern you—”

“It does when it’s about her,” he growled, stepping forward. “Say one more word, and I promise I won’t give a damn whose wife you are.”

Nova reached for his arm, grounding him. “It’s okay.”

“No,” Jake said, still staring Cora down. “It’s not.”

He slid an arm around Nova’s waist and turned, guiding her away without another glance back. They walked in silence through the parking lot, Nova leaning into Jake’s side, his grip on her firm and protective.

When they reached his truck, she stopped.

Jake turned. “Nova? Baby? What’s wrong?”

But Nova didn’t speak. She just stepped into his space and kissed him — hard, urgent, breathless. Like her life depended on it. Like he was the only steady thing in the world.

Jake kissed her back with everything he had.

And when they finally broke apart, cheeks flushed and chests rising, she looked up at him and said it.

Soft. Unshakable. True.

“I love you.”

Jake froze. Eyes wide. Lips parted. And then his face broke into the softest, most wrecked smile she’d ever seen.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered, “Say it again.”

Nova’s fingers curled in his jacket.

“I love you,” she breathed. “So much.”

“I love you too.”

He kissed her again, smiling into it and in that moment — under the stars, in dress blues and silk, with the world watching — Jake knew one thing for certain: She was it.

By the time they stumbled into Jake’s bedroom, the soft click of the door behind them was the only sound in the world — everything else, every voice, every glare, every weight on their shoulders, fell away. Nova stood in the low glow of his bedside lamp, cheeks pink and lips kiss-bruised, her silk dress slipping down one shoulder.

Jake’s breath hitched as he walked to her slowly, fingertips brushing the strap back into place just to feel her shiver.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice low, reverent.

She smiled — a soft, bashful thing that wrecked him — and whispered, “Say it again.”

He leaned in, brushing his nose along her cheek as his hands reached behind her, lowering the zipper of her dress until it whispered down her back and puddled at her feet.

“I love you.”

His mouth moved down her neck.

“I love you.”

Over her collarbone.

“I love you.”

Across her chest, just above her bra, before he eased the lace down and closed his lips around one nipple, sucking gently until she gasped.

Nova moaned and arched into him, her fingers threading into his hair, tugging when he switched sides — his tongue slow and warm, his hands sliding down her thighs to grip behind her knees.

Jake lifted her like she weighed nothing, laying her down on the bed with care and command all at once. He knelt between her legs, eyes burning, voice hoarse. “You know what you do to me, baby?”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

Jake smirked. “Let me show you.”

And he did — slowly. Torturously. He hooked her panties with two fingers and dragged them down her legs, kissing the inside of her thighs as he went. His hands kept her spread, open for him, as his mouth found her — tongue flat, then pointed, licking long and deep, teasing her until her hips bucked and her thighs trembled against his shoulders.

“Jake—” she gasped, breath breaking.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice wrecked between her legs. “I got you. Let go for me.”

And she did — with a cry and a whimper of his name, fingers curled into the sheets, thighs squeezing around his head as she came.

Jake didn’t stop until she begged, until she was panting and wrecked, and only then did he kiss up her body, settling above her, his body heavy and hot and hard against her soaked center.

“You still with me?” he asked gently, brushing the hair from her face.

She nodded, dazed, smiling. “I love you.”

Jake groaned like the words physically hit him. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

He slid into her slow, thick, and deep — a stretch that had her breath catching, her legs wrapping around his waist, her nails dragging down his back.

Jake moved slowly, deeply — hips grinding, not just thrusting, every stroke a promise. He kissed her, over and over, holding her like she was breakable even when he moved like he couldn’t stop. The pace grew deeper, more intense, and when she came again, shaking beneath him, he let go with a low growl of her name, spilling into her and collapsing onto his forearms to keep from crushing her.

They lay there after, tangled in sweat and sheets and kisses.

And Jake? He whispered it again, against her shoulder, her neck, her mouth.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

[darlingyougotthis]

Love In The Sky

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Part Six: The Fallout

Secrets are fire — they always burn when they get out.

Cora didn’t even wait until morning.

She strutted straight from the parking lot into the Admiral Brooke’s office like a woman with purpose — no knock, no hesitation, just the sweet scent of vengeance on her perfume.

And she knew exactly where to go.

Admiral Brooke’s door slammed open.

“I thought you’d want to know,” she began, feigning a sorrowful tone, “your daughter was in a truck outside the Hard Deck tonight. With Lieutenant Seresin. Doing… well. Enough to make quite the show.”

Admiral Brooke’s face hardened. The veins in his temple twitched. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t demand proof.

Because he knew.

He had seen the shift in Nova. The glow. The quiet rebellion. He just hadn’t had the proof.

Now he did.

And by God, he was going to end it.

The next morning, Jake was up early — already out the door by six for a gym session with Coyote. Nova, still warm and lazy in bed, had smiled and kissed him goodbye, sleepy and soft, thinking she had time.

She didn’t.

At 07:14, her front door shook under the impact of fists.

The knock wasn’t a knock. It was a warning.

Nova opened the door still barefoot, her hair down, wearing a faded tee and pyjama shorts. When she saw him standing there, jaw locked and eyes blazing, the air rushed from her lungs.

“Dad—”

“Who is he?” Admiral Brooke demanded, his voice thunderous.

Her stomach plummeted. “I—what?”

“The man you were grinding on in the front seat of a truck like some reckless teenager.”

“Where did you—?”

“Don’t you dare try and lie to me.”

Nova tried to regain her footing. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?” He stormed past her, scanning the space like he was clearing a room. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like my daughter — Lieutenant Brooke — has completely lost her goddamn mind.”

“Dad, please—”

“You have a career, Ava. A reputation. And you want to throw it away for what? For some hotshot pilot who doesn’t know how to keep his hands off you in public?”

“There’s no one here—”

But he was already moving.

Nova followed him in a panic, trying to block his path. “Stop! There’s nothing—!”

He shoved open the bedroom door.

And there it was.

Jake’s sweater.

Still on the bed. Crumpled, familiar, undeniably his. The collar stretched. The scent unmistakable. He might as well have found Jake himself.

Admiral Brooke picked it up and turned to her slowly.

His voice was quiet. Too quiet. “You’re letting a man sleep in your bed?”

Nova stood straighter, pulse racing. “It’s not what you think.”

“No? Because from where I’m standing,” he said coldly, “it looks exactly like what I think. You’re compromising everything I raised you for. All that discipline, all that focus — thrown away for him.”

“Stop it.”

“I told myself you had better judgment than this.”

“Dad—”

“I knew Seresin was arrogant, but I didn’t think you were stupid.”

The slap of that word hit harder than anything else. Her spine straightened like a steel rod.

“Don’t call me that,” she said, her voice sharp. “Don’t ever call me that.”

“I gave everything to get you where you are—”

“I never asked for that!” she shouted. “I didn’t ask to be raised like I was in boot camp! I didn’t ask to be your soldier, or your legacy, or some perfect little doll you can parade around!”

“You ungrateful—”

“I’m not ungrateful,” she snapped, tears threatening. “But I’m done. I’m done letting you dictate my life. I love him. And what we have is real.”

Her father sneered. “You’re a goddamn fool.”

“And you’re a coward,” she hissed. “So terrified of losing control that you’d rather tear me down than see me happy.”

They stared at each other across the room. Unmoving. Unforgiving.

Then he dropped Jake’s sweater to the floor like garbage.

“You are not the woman your mother would’ve been proud of.”

Nova reeled. That one… that one broke something.

Admiral Brooke didn’t wait for a reply. He turned, walked out, and slammed the door hard enough to shake the glass in its frame.

The silence left in his wake was deafening.

Nova dropped to her knees. Her breath caught in her throat, body trembling as she reached for Jake’s sweater and pressed it to her chest like it could hold her together.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook. She didn’t make a sound.

And then, slowly, she stood.

Wiped her face. Walked to her phone with Jake’s sweater still clutched in one hand.

She hit his name.

Jake answered after two rings. “Hey, baby,” he said, soft and bright. “Miss me already?”

The second she heard his voice, everything fell apart.

She couldn’t speak. Could only let out a single broken sob.

“…Jake….”

“Nova?” His voice shifted instantly. “What’s wrong?”

She gasped for air. “My father… he knows. He came here. He—he saw your sweater.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “I’m coming. Stay where you are.”

He arrived in under twenty minutes, sweat clinging to his shirt from the run, worry etched into every inch of him. When he saw her — tear-streaked, pale, curled on the couch — he didn’t say a word.

Just dropped to his knees and wrapped her up in his arms like he could shield her from everything.

She let him hold her.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Nova’s hands clung to his shirt like she was drowning.

“He was so angry,” she whispered. “Said I was ruining everything. Called me stupid. Said Mom would be ashamed of me.”

Jake pulled back slightly, cupped her face. “No. No, she wouldn’t.”

“I told him he was wrong. I told him I wasn’t letting him control me anymore.”

Jake’s hand slid down her cheek to her neck, steadying her. “You did the right thing.”

“We shouldn’t have to hide,” she said, voice firmer now. “I’m tired of trying to please him all the time.”

He watched her. “What are you thinking?”

Nova looked at him, eyes steady.

“I want to go to the Dress Blues Ball with you. As a couple. Not a secret.”

Jake’s eyes widened — then softened with something deep. Fierce.

“I’d be honoured,” he said. “I’ll be by your side. Through all of it.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing his. “I know.”

And she kissed him like it was a promise.