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sarahowritesostucky · 8 months ago

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📖"I Prefer Girls Who're Not Afraid to Cry"

That’s what Chris does - he worries. He worries that someday someone will catch on to what they do, what they’ve been doing for years. That someday, someone will be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong intentions, and snap a picture of something that can’t be explained away as an interaction between friends and costars.

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Chris Evans (Sebastian x ofc)

Word Count: 4439

Tags: light dom/sub, dom Sebastian Stan, Sub Chris Evans, slight internalized homophobia, secret relationship, discussions of threesomes and polyamory, flirting, touching through clothes, teasing

Summary: Sebastian and Chris reconnect to discuss the possibility of sharing a woman and living their life in the open.

A.N.: this isn't shading Alba at all. It was written when Chris had just barely started to date her.

📖"I Prefer Girls Who're Not Afraid to Cry"

Part one highly recommended to be read first!

Sebastian’s in the middle of taking a dump when he hears his phone out in the kitchen. “Ah, crap.”

(Literally.)

But then the familiar ringtone registers, and he calms down, knowing that he’s not missing an important business call from his agent or some director. He craps in peace.

He brews himself another coffee and takes it into the livingroom, sinking down on his couch with a happy sigh. He checks his phone. There’s a text from Bo already. He’d stuck her in a town car not thirty minutes ago, with a kiss and a murmured command of, “Let me know when you’re home safe.”

Given her proclivity for being a good girl, Sebastian is unsurprised to find her sweet and adorably obedient: “Safe and sound. Last night was amazing 😘😊,” waiting in their text thread.

"Good girl," he murmurs. He's still smiling over her, as he pulls up the last call received and taps the screen to call him back.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hey.” He sounds breathless over the line, must be working out. There’s some new project he’s signed on for, some historical drama with shirtless scenes.

“Hey,” Sebastian says. “You busy? I can call back.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Hang on.” There’s movement on the other end of the line, and a few seconds later it sounds like his face is pressed more firmly to the receiver. He’s settled somewhere, and his breath isn’t labored anymore.

“Are you still in the city?”

“Yeah. They’ve got three still in the running for the female lead, want me to do chemistry reads to narrow it down. Casting needs me for another few days." There's a pause. "... I thought I might stay a bit longer, though. See the sights.”

Sebastian hums, pleased. “You should.” In the distant background, he thinks he can hear weight plates being moved around. “Are you ... are you actually at a gym?”

His sigh crackles over the line, displeased. “The fifty-third street Equinox.”

“Wow.” Sebastian snickers. “And look: you’ve survived!”

“Don’t jinx it. Nobody’s bothered me. Yet.”

Sebastian still laughs about it. He doesn’t mind public gyms himself, but then again, he’s much more of a showoff (and not nearly as famous). “Do you want to go to lunch?” he asks, eyes slipping closed, digging his skull back into the couch cushion. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

“Sorry, can’t. I’ve got meetings all afternoon.”

“Pfff. 'Course.” There goes Sebastian's excuse for skipping his own workout. He pokes at his abs. “I need to go for a run.”

Over the line, there’s the sound of water being gulped, and then a hopeful, “Dinner though?”

“Sure. Where?”

“Well, I was thinking that dark place. Georgie’s?”

Sebastian bites his lip, tickled at what he knows that means. Georgia’s is an obscenely expensive and very private Italian joint. It’s got dark corners, discreet staff, and cozy leather booths. … And it’s less than two blocks from Sebastian’s building. Still, he pretends to complain, teasing, “You don’t ask for much, do ya, Evans?”

Chris chuckles lowly, and the sound goes straight to Sebastian’s cock. “What, you think I’m easy, Stan?”

“I know you are.”

“Gotta make you work for it. I want you to wine and dine me.”

That’s not all you want me to do, Sebastian thinks. “I think I can manage that. Dessert after?"

"Always."

That low voice, purred into the receiver, is enough to have Sebastian's cock pulsing in interest. He sinks lower on the couch, right hand roaming over his leg, up to the crease of his inner thigh. “Eight o’clock?” he asks, cupping himself. Maybe he’ll jerk off before he runs.

“You damn Europeans and your middle of the night dinner times.”

“Shut up and come get cultured,” he says, throwing on an accent thicker than any he’s naturally spoken with in decades. It makes Chris giggle, which lights Sebastian up. “Seven,” he concedes, and Chris agrees. Neither one of them mentions the fact that they're going to wind up back at Sebastian’s place, after; that 'dessert' is just a euphemism for what they get up to together once they're alone. Sebastian all but confirms it when he says, “You can stay?”

“Yeah. The night.”

“The week,” he corrects.

Chris stays silent, and Sebastian can practically hear him worrying. “Well … I’ve got all my luggage, though.”

“So? Bring it.”

“Production’s put me up at the Conrad …”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You gonna turn me down for the friggin' Conrad? Naw. Check out of your hotel, bring your luggage here. I don’t get to see you enough. I miss you.”

“Seb,” Chris says, sounding tempted, but wary. “What if somebody—”

“You haven’t been doing press, so nobody knows you’re in town. Come on. Have you even seen cameras?”

“... No,” he admits, still sounding worried. But that’s what Chris does: he worries. He worries that someday someone will catch on to what they do, what they’ve been doing, off and on, for years. That someday, someone will be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong intentions, and snap a picture of something that can’t be explained away as an interaction between friends and costars. Last year, Chris' agent had sat him down and said something to him about it.

But Sebastian just calmly commands him again, “Come stay with me. It’ll be fine.”

“... Okay.”

His heart melts at the give in Chris’ voice, the trust. He’s a bit like Bohdana, in that regard. Sometimes Chris just needs to let it all go and let somebody else be in charge for a little while. And Sebastian knows how hard it is for him to do that, knows what it means, that Chris lets him be the one he surrenders to. “Hey,” he says fondly. “Be brave, little toaster. I’ll see you tonight.”

Chris snorts, Sebastian hums, and they end the call that way. Sebastian closes his eyes and sips the rest of his coffee with his hand still on his dick, feeling peaceful, considering jacking off. It’s probably nearing noon by now. He should go get his workout over with, but he isn’t in the mood to rush, too wrapped up in his thoughts about Chris. And Bo.

He’d bid her farewell slowly and lazily. She’d been so sweet in his bed that morning, all mussed hair and shy smiles and soft curves. Sebastian had thoroughly enjoyed the gentle, intimate process of kissing her awake and cuddling her between the sheets, speaking in decibels only used by lovers, reassuring her that she was perfect and that what they’d done was good, and right, that he wasn’t going to discard her now that he'd had her—all things that he'd known she needed to hear.

It’s been a long time since Sebastian’s been with a woman so beautifully needy. Bo’s no virgin. He can see that she clearly knows what she likes. But there’s a virginal quality to her that tells Sebastian she’s obviously never been treated right by a man, and she’s never been handled by one at all. That doesn’t make him mad or indignant on her behalf. Rather, it excites him.

Excites him, because that means he gets to be her first in more ways than one. He’s thinking about the sight of her laid out on his bed and whimpering so sweetly, as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajama pants. He plays with his dick lightly, getting harder, remembering his time with Bohdana last night and imagining how it would’ve been if Chris had been there with them.

Would he just want to watch, that first time? Sebastian thinks maybe he would. Chris is hesitant sometimes. He’s careful, mindful of other people’s judgements and expectations, mindful of himself. If Bo wasn’t overtly, aggressively sexual with him right out of the gate (which she likely wouldn’t be), then Sebastian knows Chris would move to the side, sit in a chair and watch, eventually touching himself while Sebastian took Bo apart on the bed.

He jerks off to the fantasy, picturing something very close to what really happened last night. Only in this version, some of his attention would be on Chris, too; glancing over at him while his hand is between Bo’s legs, smirking and tossing her panties his way, looking straight at him as he fingers her to climax. Maybe he'd decide to eat her out and make her come that way, too. He knows he'd go over to Chris, then; kiss him with his face still messy, give him a taste of her. Oh, and he can just imagine the look Chris would get on his face, if Seb could make her squirt in front of him. Fuck, he thinks, he could even drag Chris over and make him watch up close. He could teach him.

He comes with a low grunt, most of the mess contained inside his pajama pants. He pulls them off and wipes himself with a sated sigh, then goes to chuck them in the hamper. He starts the shower water running and shoots off a quick text to Don to see if he’s free for a run. Sebastian always pushes a little harder than he does when jogging alone. He hops in the shower, already in an excellent mood.

This thing with Chris, this “thing” that they don’t put a name to, has been going on for a long time. Sometimes Sebastian forgets just how long. (How many years ago were they shooting Winter Soldier? Ten? Jesus, they’re getting old.)

Ten years since that first kiss: middle of August in a trailer in Atlanta, boiling temperatures, boiling tensions, and Chris shoving him away with a “What the fuck man? I’m not gay!”

Eight years since that second kiss: another trailer, a better kiss, this time with Sebastian so bulked up that he could easily wrestle Chris’ anger away.

Seven years since that first night: Salt Lake Comic Con, Chris busting into his hotel room, drunk and belligerent and falling to his knees to suck him off.

Yeah, Sebastian thinks, it’d turned into a regular thing after Salt Lake. So, seven. Seven years of fitting in moments together. Between cities, movies, relationships, the demands of friends and fans and family. Using their phones when the months upon months of separation pile up—texting the safe stuff and snapchatting the not so safe stuff. Missing each other but never admitting it, and certainly never saying I Love You. They live two separate lives, lives that don’t have space for them to make their “thing” any more than it is. Certainly not a relationship.

Sexuality’s a spectrum, and he and Chris each have their place somewhere on it. Sebastian knows they both fall way closer to the straight end of that spectrum than most men who’re sleeping with other men do, but not far enough to not warrant caution. Because being gay isn’t conducive to what they do for a living.

Oh, Hollywood is very accepting of those things socially, but the fastest way to kill a career as a leading man in film is to announce that you’re into dick. Roles dry up fast once you’re openly gay. It’s not homophobia, it’s marketing. No director is going to cast a guy for a blockbuster role if the audience can’t buy him as straight. Action, romance, and even in most drama films; sex is what’s being sold. Straight sex, to straight people, and a leading man is the main product. Women need to be able to picture themselves with him, men need to be able to picture themselves as him. That’s the business.

It’s something both Sebastian and Chris have had to come to grips with. Girlfriends but not wives are always encouraged. Hell, Chris’ agent even sets him up on the occasional date. Emily is a little more hands off with Sebastian, thank goodness. But she's made comments in the past about all the gay roles he’s taken on in his work— “One is fine, two starts to look suspicious, three’s a pattern," has been sure to let him know that he’d better be visibly pursuing women in the meanwhile. So he’s gotten into the habit of dating models. It’s helped to increase his sex appeal and cement him as a desirable lead for films, or so says Emily. Sebastian gets it, but it’s still annoying to hear his manager talk it up with such importance. He likes to think he gets roles because he’s a good actor. Imagine that.

He can’t even remember how many times Chris used to call him, back in the early days, upset and saying that they needed to stop doing what they were doing. An … interpretable picture had come out that showed the two of them embracing at a party. Now they’re careful. They’ve crafted a narrative and fed the media enough to ensure that they’re depicted as best friends, born from over a decade spent making movies together. Magazines print it, YouTube has compilation videos of it. No other pictures have ever come out.

Sebastian stands outside the restaurant and waits. He spots Chris coming down the sidewalk and smiles widely. They haven’t seen each other in months. Chris’ beard is gone.

“Hey.”

He can’t pull him in and kiss him like he wants to. He keeps his hands shoved in his pockets as they greet each other warmly. “Should we go in?” Chris asks, eyes roving up and down Sebastian, taking him in. “You look good.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Sexiest Man Alive,” Sebastian says, because he knows it’ll make him blush. It does.

Chris’ cheeks get gloriously pink and he shoves Sebastian’s shoulder as they go through the restaurant’s doors, laughing and telling him to shut the fuck up. The hostess gets a little wide-eyed when she realizes who’s standing in front of her. Sebastian’s not sure she knows who he is, but she definitely recognizes Mr. 2022. She can’t peel her eyes from Chris, and she gets real smiley, real fast, leading them back to the darkest, most tucked away booth in the house when Chris winks at her and requests 'someplace private'. “Your server will be right with you,” she gushes, seeming almost hesitant to go back to her hostessing duties. It’s cute, and it gives Sebastian more fodder for teasing once she finally does retreat.

“Gonna miss the beard though,” he muses, looking Chris over. He looks younger without it, always does. They settle in and ask the server for their usual; a bottle of wine and every appetizer on the menu. Sebastian was on chicken breast protocol not too long ago, so it’s a relief to be ordering calamari and bread and snails soaked in butter. He talks about the muscle he’s been able to put back on since his last role, how he thinks the weight loss aged him and he’s considering Botox. Chris talks about the table reads he’s in town for and the film he’s been forcing himself into public gyms for. He votes No for Botox.

“Seventeen-seventies,” Sebastian muses, once their food has come and he’s fishing out an escargot from its shell. “So like, breeches and wigs? Big puffy shirts?” He smirks across the table. “I can just picture it.”

Chris shakes his head at him, but he’s smiling. He likes being teased by Sebastian, and Sebastian knows this. “I’m getting nervous about it,” he confides. “I have to do an accent, which you know is not my forte. Then there’s the sex scenes.”

Sebastian can sympathize. He’s also shit at accents (other than those from Soviet bloc countries), and he’s done plenty of nudity. Full frontal, even. There’s really no way to make it not awful. And sex scenes are even worse: A film crew staring at your asscheeks and a bandaid taped over your junk while you pretend to give it to some chick. Sebastian would rather scoot around Athens naked a dozen times before having to do imitation thrusts. “There’ll be an intimacy coordinator,” he tries to console. “Talk to them.”

“Eh, they’re for the women.”

“They’re for everybody,” Sebastian corrects. “I’ve had my dick out enough to know.”

“Yeah you have.”

He points his teeny escargot fork across the table, stern. “They’re not just for the women.”

Chris reaches for his wine. “Speaking of women,” he segues. Their table is very secluded and the surrounding area dark, so much so that personal conversation feels safe, tucked away as they are in their little corner. “I ah, I broke it off with Alba.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows raise. “Oh?” He’d forgotten her name, but knows who Chris is talking about. “Why?” he asks, trying not to let his enthusiasm show. “I thought you liked her.”

Chris shrugs, looking down about it. “I did. I do. She’s sweet, but she’s borderline Gen Z, you know? She made some comment about Titanic being a “vintage” movie. It was too much.”

Sebastian nods. He gets it. And even though he’s happy to hear he has Chris all to himself again, he’s also sorry for him, because he knows how much the other man wants love, wants a family. They’ve never talked about their futures with other people. It’s just been an unspoken assumption on both their parts that eventually they’ll end up married with kids, no longer able to accommodate their “thing.”

But that’s part of this new idea that’s been percolating in the back of Sebastian’s brain. It’s not concrete, just a possibility, but being with Bo has put the idea into his head that maybe he could have his cake and eat it too, and maybe so could Chris. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, forcing himself to be bold. He meets Chris’ eyes. “Women, that is.”

“Oh yeah, how’d it go with that ah, that model you were seeing?” he asks, forced levity in his tone.

It makes Sebastian want to reach over and take his hand. Instead, he nudges their feet together under the table. “Hey.” He waits for Chris to meet his eyes again. “Bohdana,” he reminds gently. He hasn’t given Chris many details, but they have a policy of always telling each other about who they’re sleeping with. “She’s good. I really like her. She stayed over last night.”

Chris smiles. He’s trying. “That’s great, man.” He looks down again, sips his wine.

“Chris, look at me.”

He keeps his gaze on the table, focuses on choosing another few pieces from their various appetizers. “So, it’s getting serious?”

“Hey,” Sebastian says quietly, stern. “I told you to look at me.” Chris’ eyes snap up. Sebastian shakes his head. “It’s not serious. Not yet.”

“Oh?”

“Yet.” Beneath the table he slides his foot up, rubbing his ankle against Chris’. “She’s sweet,” he murmurs, holding his gaze. “Funny, gorgeous. Just wants a man to take care of her, though she tries not to let it show. And the way she responds to me is …” he trails off, letting the lack of words and his expression do the talking. He can see that Chris gets it. “And I think she wants kids. She’s said a few things in general conversation.”

Chris’ lips tick up. “Sounds like the whole package,” he says, thinking he’s hiding it well. But he’s as see-through as cellophane to Sebastian.

“Not quite. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He waits, takes a sip or two of his wine before he delves into the idea that’s been taking shape in his mind. He tells him delicately, “I think you should meet her.”

Chris immediately makes a face. “Why?”

“Hear me out.” He knows this has the potential to be a hard sell. “I think you’ll like her. She’s very pretty, you know. Nice skin, brown hair and dark eyes, cute face, petite. Just like you like ‘em.”

Chris is chewing something in his mouth. He chews it round and round, staring, thinking. He swallows and guesses, “... You want a threesome?”

“No. More than that.” Beneath the table, Sebastian slips his loafer off. “I want you to meet her. I think you’ll really like her.”

A shiver visibly runs through Chris’ body when Sebastian’s foot has made it all the way up his thigh, to the apex of his legs. “I don’t know what secret code you think you’re speaking in here, Seb,”

“I want us to share her.”

“Jesus—That’s what I just said."

“Need me to help you with that attitude?” Sebastian purrs. Chris’s eyes widen minutely at the threat, then go heavy-lidded. Sebastian smiles. “Hm?”

“I don’t think, it’d be a good idea,” he says, every word clipped and measured, controlling himself. “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off. And the way we look at each other? She’d know.”

“That’s the idea,” Sebastian counters, sly. “Chris: we both like women, we both want that life—a family, home, kids. And we want each other. We’ve been separating ourselves into these different pieces, but maybe we don’t have to. Why not do it together? All of it?” Understanding starts to dawn on Chris’ face, and Sebastian nods. “Yes. You and me, and her.”

Chris' lips work a few times, speechless. “You want—”

“I want us to share her. Sexually, romantically, domestically. A life. Together.”

It takes a long few moments. First Chris just blinks at him, and then he scoffs out a mean little laugh, masking his nerves. Sebastian waits. Chris lifts his wine glass and gulps half of it down. He sets it down a little too roughly on the table. “You’ve been on what, two dates with this girl? Have you floated this little plan by her?”

“Six dates. And no I haven’t, but I will. And I think she’ll say yes.”

He scoffs and drinks more wine. He’s acting angry, but Sebastian can see him thinking it over, afraid to get his hopes up. “What about you and me?” he says. “People would know that we’re together. It’s still the same problem.”

Sebastian holds up a finger. “Ah, not quite.”

“How do you figure?”

“First of all, we wouldn’t have to come out about it right away. One of us could go public with her as his girlfriend, and since you and I are best hetero buds, it still wouldn’t be anything unusual for the three of us to be seen together.” Underneath the table, he lifts his leg, using his socked foot to massage Chris’ thigh. “Nothing scandalous. Then, one day—maybe not for years and years, who knows?—but one day, we come out as a throuple.”

Chris’ eyebrows go sky high. “A ‘throuple’?” he repeats.

“That’s what the kids are calling it these days. Polyamory, it’s all the rage.”

The eyebrows come down, replaced by a scowl. “Oh Seb, come on. Be serious,” he groans. The sound cuts off, however, when Sebastian’s foot presses up warningly against his balls.

“I am being serious,” he coos, voice like velvet. “What about that plan doesn’t sound perfect to you?”

Chris licks his lips. “Well she’d have to agree to it.”

“She will.”

“You don't know that. And I haven’t even met her.”

“Actually, you have.” Sebastian grins, excited to reveal this last bit. “She told me about it: how you two ran into each other at the gym.” When he sees that Chris is still confused, he elaborates, “She stumbled into you while you were lifting? You sat her down and force fed her juice and crackers?”

Chris’ lips part as he puts two and two together. “It was a granola bar,” he says weakly, and Sebastian’s heart flares with fondness for him.

“I talked about you with her. Briefly. Told her how you were my best friend, how we're very close." Chris snorts. "And she told me about how she thought you were cute, flirted with you, even gave you her number. I think she felt guilty for the flirting. It was like she was confessing it to me: her lust for another man.” With lighter pressure, he slowly rubs his foot against the crotch of Chris’ pants. His eyes bore into him while he does it, smirking, holding him with his gaze. “You’re getting hard,” he whispers.

“Y-yeah.” Chris looks like he’s really considering Sebastian’s proposal now, the anxiety in his face slowly being replaced by interest, disbelief … and maybe hope. “This is crazy,” he breathes. “Seb ...”

“I know,” Sebastian soothes. “I know it is. But we could do it—have each other, and our woman, and a family. Everything. A certain amount of privacy can be bought, and you have the money for it. Nobody would know until we want them to know. And even then, there’d be no reason for people not to assume it’s a M/F/M arrangement, with that F firmly in between the M’s. He tilts his head and watches as Chris absorbs everything he's saying. Gently, he massages his foot over his dick. Chris shivers. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“... You really think we can pull that off?”

“We’ve crafted a narrative before,” he offers. It’s not like it’s hard. All they’d have to do is act the part when they’re in public, call the paps on themselves when it’s convenient—both things they’ve already been doing for years. “So what do you say? You want to give it a try, come over and meet her one night? Feel her out?”

Chris has a brightness in his eyes as he thinks it through, and soon a smile sparks—hesitant at first, but growing. Under the table, his hand curls over the top of Sebastian’s foot and gives a squeeze, pressing it firmer against his erection. Sebastian moans quietly. Then, to his utter joy, Chris nods and says, “Let’s do it.”

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year ago

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Charming Her Dad

Part 11 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: Jake Seresin's faced the worst things a man has ever had to face, both in and out of a jet. But staring up at the glossy wooden doors of Gorgeous's childhood home, he's sure he's never faced anything scarier. How's he going to convince her dad that he's the man his daughter deserves?

Disclaimers: Smut

Warnings: Female Reader

Word Count: 4439

Author Note: So for Chapter 11 I decided to venture into yet another perspective that I've never written before - Jake's. His voice was surprisingly challenging to capture, and I hope I did it justice. All my love to @desert-fern for beta-reading this chapter! Sorry this chapter is out a bit later than what my schedule started - life happened.

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

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What’s that old adage they say about too much of a good thing? They say that it’s bad, right? You’ve never once believed it. You love your job and your life in San Diego couldn’t be better. You’re in the same place as your best friend for the first time since she joined the Navy, and you now have Jake. Jake Seresin, the love of your life. Your fiancé. The man you are going to marry. The man you can’t wait to marry. So all in all, life is looking pretty good.

In the months since that disastrous Christmas Dinner at Seresin Ranch, you’ve come to feel like a part of the Seresin family. Mama Georgie treats you like one of her brood and each time you talk to her you feel a little like you're levitating. You've never been so accepted and appreciated by a partner’s family before. It makes it all the more special that it's Jake's family who loves you, too.

But at the same time, you can't help feeling just a little guilty. Jake's been nothing but welcoming, but you haven't told him much about your family. In part, that's because in comparison to the multitudinous arms waiting to welcome you home to Seresin Ranch, there is only one set of arms waiting to welcome Jake home. You're not sure about the reception he'll have, though.

Your dad, the closest thing you have to one, that is, may not like Jake very much at all. He's only told you a million times to never fall in love with a Navy Man. The emphasis has always so clearly been on the word never. He's said it so vehemently and forcefully that it may as well be written in bold red with pen lines scored through the sheet. You'd successfully abided by that one rule all of your life.

Then Jake waltzed into your life, demolishing that rule into shreds of confetti as he did so. It's not going to matter one whit to your dad that you didn't know Jake was Navy until your first date. You'd found out and then agreed to go out with him again anyway. That those events happened nearly a year ago doesn’t help. You gave your heart to Jake, completely. But now you have to introduce him to your dad. Not your birth father, but your father nonetheless.

Your mom and dad had a fairytale kind of love. Sparks flew and it was really, truly, love at first sight. The two of them and their love story were the literal legends that you remember hearing about when you were still small enough to sit in your godfather's lap. The way he told it, they loved each other enough to have you. Then their love was tragically cut short, leaving you all alone at only two years old. That's when your Uncle Ron stepped in. He was probably your favorite person other than your dad. He bought a small house in Maine and devoted his life to making yours as full and rich as your parents would have wanted it to be. Even spending a childhood on Naval Bases across the country had been fun with your dad around.

You can still remember the look on his face the first time you called him dad. The way his eyes had seemed to go gooey and soft when your still chubby fingers had splayed over his cheeks, trying to brush away the tears dripping from his eyes. Since then he's been your dad in every way. The only way he isn't is in your name. He'd adopted you six months after he became your caregiver, but left your name as your parents gave it to you, knowing you'd want to feel the love they felt for you every time someone said your name.

It's probably a bad thing that you haven’t told your dad about your very serious relationship, right? He's just been so busy. First he was still flying for an airline, working crazy hours at airports all over the world. Then after he'd retired six months ago he'd been settling back into the big house in Maine, completing much needed repairs and falling asleep exhausted in his armchair with a beer dangling from his fingertips. You can't count the number of phone calls you've gotten from the housekeeper, Mrs. Mayfair, when she'd found beer on her immaculate floors.

Of course, just as you're thinking about him, his profile picture comes up on your phone along with the buzzing and ringing of a phone call.

"Hey, Kiddo." He sounds gruff - gruff, tired, and so fond all at once.

"Hey, Dad." Just hearing his voice, crackly and deep through the phone makes you feel at home. But he doesn't call very often. The last time he'd called was over Christmas, when you'd told him about Jake. He still doesn't know what Jake does, but he knows who Jake is and what he means to you. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up, Honey Bee. Do I need to have a reason to call my only kid?"

"No, sir!" You don't think his laugh could ever keep you from laughing a little too.

"Honey Bee, when are you going to come home and bring your boy home to meet your old man?"

You try to dissemble, really you do, but no matter what you do, he's adamant.

"I have to check with Jake, daddy. See when's the earliest he can take some leave."

His grumble at your words has a cold sweat dripping down your spine.

"Taking leave, huh, sweetheart? So you ended up with a military man after all, did you?"

"Yeah, daddy, I did." The picture of Jake you keep on your desk fills you with so much joy as you trace your finger over his smiling cheek. "I know you told me not to, but I love him, daddy. So much - and he's good to me. So good to me."

"Sweetheart, that rule was just to keep you from getting hurt. But you're a thirty-year-old adult. I trust your judgment. So talk to your Jake and we'll set something up. I love you, honey bee."

"Love you, daddy." Time to text Jake and see if he’s ready to meet your dad, you guess.

Jake agrees, the two of you make plans to fly to Maine in the spring. But, you can’t get a read on how he truly feels, his agreement is less than enthusiastic. In truth there is a sick pit at the base of your own stomach. Will your dad like Jake as much as you do? Will he be able to see how wonderful your fiancé is despite his reputation?

Maine is different. Jake’s had postings all over the world over the past decade. Texas has always been home and now San Diego feels like home too. Especially now that he has his gorgeous girl. But, Jake’s only been in and around cities. So the sleepy little town they got off the ferry at in Maine feels like taking a trip back in time. It’s an idyllic little town, complete with little white washed houses and fenced gardens. There are houses dotted up a hill at the center of town, the vista wind-swept and green for miles around them. The early spring air brushes past his face with little bursts of cool salty air and the ocean is an unreal, crystal clear blue. Everyone knows each other and it seems like everyone knows Gorgeous by name.

Speaking of Gorgeous, Jake’s never seen her this nervous. His beautiful gorgeous fiancée, Jake’s never seen her scared about anything. Even when he woke up in that hospital room all those months ago, she hadn’t looked scared. She’d been worried, angry, and relieved all at once. He can still remember how it had felt to hold her when he was sure he’d never get the chance to ever again. That day he’d promised himself to never take her for granted. And that he was going to marry her someday. They’re one step closer to the day he’s going to marry her, but now that Jake’s in Maine, he has to ask her dad for permission. Not permission to marry her so much as permission to take care of her. He has to promise that she’ll never be without a thing she needs so long as she’s his. Jake needs Gorgeous’ father to know that he loves her and that he’ll treat her as she deserves and that he will love her the way her parents loved each other.

Even now, when he’s tired and hot and hungry and he knows she is too, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Her hair’s in a loose messy bun at the back of her head and the golden summer sun catches on each glistening strand until she’s framed in gold like a priceless painting in a museum somewhere. But it’s her smile, tremulous and small but still so perfectly gorgeous that takes his breath away. He steals that moment to get right into her personal space. Jake’s sure he’ll never get tired of how she responds to his touch, like he’s everything she’s ever wanted, that he’s all she’ll ever need. Her lips when he captures them taste like cherries and as her arms wind around his neck, it feels like the world falls away. This is it, the world screams, every cell in his body sure, this is her. The one.

“Not that I mind, Jay, but what was that for?” Her chest heaves softly and while Jake would love nothing more than to kiss the soft skin, he settles for taking her hand.

“Because I love you, gorgeous. No matter how this meeting with your dad goes, it’s not going to change a thing. I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried.” Her eyes mist up, and that’s enough to have him tug her close again.

“Now take me home, pretty girl.” He grabs the one big suitcase from her hand and tucks her under his arm, shifting the duffel to the shoulder of the arm pulling the suitcase. “It’s real pretty here, baby doll. Is this where you grew up?”

As he chatters away, Jake slowly sees her relax. She’s smiling and laughing and as she leads him up the hill, telling stories at a mile a minute, he can almost see her tiny baby self ricocheting up and down this very hill. He’s not seen any pictures, but he just knows that she was a tiny little thing, all mischief and big grins. The closer they get to the big white house, nearly at the top of the hill, the more tense Jake can feel himself get. There’s an imposing aura surrounding the property, something which sends prickles of quasi-recognition through him. He hasn’t felt like this since the last time an admiral made the rounds at Top Gun when he was there the first time.

That feeling compounds as Gorgeous opens the gate and pulls him towards the big shiny Oak doors. She lets his hand go, and he wants nothing more than to drag her back into his embrace again. His fingers itch with the feeling, because she’s not in reach anymore and that means that she isn’t keeping the nerves at bay. He’s faced down literal missiles and gunfire, SAMs and anti-aircraft munitions, but he’s never been as scared as he is staring the glossy wood down.

When it opens, Jake can barely breathe, because there is a man standing on the other side, dark hair melting into white at the sides. He’s grim and taciturn, a frown curling the corners of his mouth down at the sight of Jake standing there. That frown turns into a huge grin at the sight of Gorgeous, which Jake understands. He can't hide his smile around her either. So maybe he has more in common with Gorgeous’ dad than he thinks?

But more than his smile or obvious love in his eyes for Gorgeous, there's something oddly familiar about him. Jake's seen him before. He's sure of it. As sure as he is that he could pick out his mama blindfolded and that the sky is blue and that his Gorgeous Girl is the prettiest woman in the whole wide world.

"I'm Ron, c'mon in." Jake grabs the suitcase and pulls it and his duffel in, grateful for once that he's never needed much baggage.

"Jake Seresin, sir. Pleased to meet you." He holds his hand out for a handshake, his body as tense as it was for his first flight inspection. But the answering shake never comes. He's left standing there and Gorgeous is glaring and Ron is staring into his eyes. In that moment Jake is sure he's lost Gorgeous when he thought he finally had won her heart. It's obvious from everything she's ever said that she loves her dad. She adores him and believes that he strung the stars up in the sky just for her. If Ron doesn't approve, this relationship is sunk. Jake’s sweating under the strain, he can feel the sweat droplets dripping down the back of his shirt.

“I wish I could say the same, Hangman.” That tone, the way Gorgeous’ dad says his callsign. That strikes a chord. Where the hell has he heard it before? That’s a wholly disapproving tone, something which makes every muscle convulse into a salute rather than the relaxed stance he was in before.

“You’ve got quite the reputation, son.” He feels like he can barely breathe, focusing instead on the rage on his beautiful fiancée’s face. The problem is, he can’t quite tell if the rage on her face is on his behalf or if it’s because he’s pissed her dad off on the first day of their visit. His nod is abortive, quick as he focuses on the wall between father and daughter. “Why the hell should I let you marry my daughter? When, based on everything that I’ve heard, you’re exactly the kind of Navy pilot that I would never have wanted her to end up with?”

“Admiral,” Because he knows exactly who this is, suddenly, like a missile getting tone-lock. Retired Rear-Admiral Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner. “I’d be lying to you and your daughter both if I said that I haven’t thought about exactly what to say to you if you asked me that question. And the truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know why your daughter, your beautiful, sweet, kind, lovely daughter decided to give a womanizing idiot like me a chance. You have to ask her why.”

His throat is tight and it feels like he’s barely breathing. “But I know why I love your daughter. Sir, she’s the only person in the longest time who’s seen Jake and not Hangman. She’s the only person who’s ever been willing to find out who Jake is. And I love her for it. Your daughter saved me. She didn’t save my life, though I know she’s more than capable of doing so.”

Gorgeous’ watery giggle makes a fleeting smile flit across his face. “She saved the man I was. The one before the Navy, before the air-to-air kill. She saved that man, brought him back to life. She does it every time she smiles. I can’t promise you, sir, that I won’t act like Hangman ever again. He’s saved more lives than he’s taken. But I can promise you that your daughter will never see Hangman. Because she’s too good for him, and both of us know that.”

For several moments, all Jake can hear is the thudding of his heart. Then Admiral Kerner turns and walks away without saying another word. He can’t quite believe that he’s going to be allowed to stay in the house, not when things are so indescribably tense.

“Darlin’ let me take your bag upstairs for you.” She’s quiet as she leads him up the wide white stairs to her childhood bedroom. And somehow, that one bright little room is exactly what he expected it to be. He can see his Gorgeous Girl all over. He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see the sweet little girl she was, or the sassy teenager or even the college-aged woman ruling this house with her little, deceptively strong fist. But when he’s set her bag down and turned to head back downstairs, still holding the duffel bag, he’s a little shocked to see tears in her eyes.

“Where are you going?” Her voice is soft as she wraps her arms around him. His arms open to let her in like there is nothing they’d rather do other than have her pressed up against his heart. “Are you leaving already? Jake, my dad didn’t mean that. He’s just got this thing against the Navy. It’s not against you. Please don’t leave. Don’t head back to San Diego without me. Or if you want to head back, we’ll go together.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not leavin’ town. I was just going to find an inn or hotel with a room I can rent for the week.” Her skin feels like silk against the pads of his fingers as he brushes a stray tear away. “I’m not leaving, baby doll. I love you. You and only you.”

Her eyes flutter closed at the gentle press of his fingers across her cheeks. In that moment he can’t resist kissing her again, slow and sweet until it feels like he’s bitten into the sweetest of cherries and all he wants to do is chase that tart sweetness on her tongue for the rest of all time. But he doesn’t get the chance to, because before he can blink, she’s out of his arms and leaning against the wall.

“You are not leaving this house, Jake.” There’s a stubborn set to her body posture. From the look she’s giving him alone, he sits down on the bed. “For one, the Bed & Bread isn’t open yet for the season. And I don’t want to fight with you, handsome, but I’m marrying you. No matter what my dad says, I’m marrying you. But you need to get along with him, Jay. He’s my family - the only family I’ve got left, mind you.”

When she steps forward and settles into his lap, his hands fly to her hips like they're magnetized to the feeling of her supple skin. Her tiny soft hands cup his cheeks, her ring pleasantly warm against his cheeks as she runs her fingers over his face and into his hair. His eyes keep finding her plush lips, pleading for a kiss when he’s at her mercy. What he’s not expecting is the way her crimson tipped nail taps against his nose.

“So you are going to get along with my dad, every day for the next week, and if you’re good…” Her voice drops to a sensual murmur into his ear. “I’ll give you a blowjob right here and you can pretend you’re taking my virginity right in my childhood bedroom.”

He can’t control his immediate physical reaction to Gorgeous, not anymore, not that he ever has been able to. He can feel himself plumping up in his jeans just at the thought. But just when he’d like nothing more than to lock the door and get his beautiful, gorgeous, perfect fiancée on her stomach on her frilly white bedspread in her childhood bedroom, she’s gone. Left him alone in the bedroom with a painfully hard dick and the scent of her perfume.

If only it were as easy to get Admiral Kerner on his side as it was to charm Gorgeous on that first date. Not that it was easy to charm Gorgeous. On the contrary in fact. But he’d made her laugh. The first sight of that beautiful smile had nearly knocked him on his ass. Getting Admiral Kerner to smile at anything but his daughter is like trying to move a mountain with a shovel. Three days, Jake has been trying. Three full days. No matter the jokes or how helpful he is, Slider Kerner has the same expression at the sight of him.

At least they’re halfway through this visit. Halfway, though it’s felt like years. Is it bad to want it to be the night before they get back on the ferry to go home? At least then that means that the torture is over. Jake's lying supine on the floor, and it's because everything hurts. He's been up since four in the morning when Admiral Kerner had knocked on the door. It had been torture dragging himself away from Gorgeous, all sleepy and soft in just one of his soft t-shirts, the supple curve of her hip exposed as he’d dragged the sheets off to get out of bed. To add insult to injury he hadn't seen her all day. Admiral Kerner had dragged him all around town, having him help whitewash houses and fix fences. There's an aching stitch in his side and a bruise somewhere on his back from when a wheelbarrow had barreled right into him. He's also covered in mud and flecks of paint, hence why he's on the floor. Gorgeous would murder him for getting her pretty lavender-smelling sheets dirty.

He must doze off because it feels like he just blinked yet the room is dimly lit by a lamp and he's looking up into Gorgeous' pretty eyes.

"Hey, Jay." His hand cups her cheek, tangling in the soft cascade of her hair. "Why're you sleeping on the floor, silly? You're covered in paint and mud, too. C'mon handsome, let's get you all cleaned up, yeah?"

He only manages a grunt in response, his limbs uncooperative as he lets her manhandle him into the bathroom. It's even worse in the shower. The last time he felt this tired was that first shower after he was released from the hospital. He'd stayed wrapped around his girlfriend, his beautiful heart and she'd done all the hard work. Tonight goes a bit better at least, in that he at least gets his hands on her perfect tits and can help wash himself. What can he say? Jake knows what he likes and with his Gorgeous Girl, it's everything about her. Were he fully awake, he’d have that pretty mouth parted in an O of pleasure because of him.

So naturally, he doesn't fully wake up until he's standing shivering on the bathmat and sees the mountain of bubbles taking over the bathtub. Gorgeous is facing away from him, her beautiful hair in a bun on top of her head and there’s droplets of water sliding down her back. All he wants to do is trace the path of one of those drops down her skin. It’s enough of a thought to have other parts of himself take notice. But before he can act on that urge, she’s slipping beneath the bubbles and looking up at him. Her lips are slightly parted and with the steam sticking her hair to her skin, she’s never looked more beautiful. Sue him, he loves this woman so much that he thinks she’s never looked more beautiful in basically everything she’s ever worn or not worn. But he can pick a favorite look on her. Nowadays, that look is when she’s just wearing his ring. Of course, tonight the ring is on the nightstand, but this is his second-favorite look.

It’s not a decision at all to settle into the bath in front of her. Her hands are incredibly soft and gentle trailing through his hair and over his pecs as the hot water soothes each aching muscle. He dozes, cradled in her arms, hypnotized by the slow drag of her fingers across his skin, smiling dopily as they pet the sparse hair carpeting his chest. He probably purrs outright at the scratch of her nails across his scalp. This is relaxation - he’s probably closer to a melted puddle than a man at the moment. What he doesn’t expect is the hand which wraps around his length, pumping it languidly beneath the bubbles.

“Darlin’?” His voice is a slur, because just tonight, he can’t take any teasing. Not when he’s been living with blue balls at the sight of her pretty body showcased in those floaty sundresses every day since they got here.

“Hmm?” Her voice is gentle and sweet, hypnotically so. If he didn’t know exactly how well her hands were working him over, he’d think she wasn’t up to anything at all.

“What’re you doing, baby doll?” His voice slurs even as he tips his head back so he can see the concentration on her face. Her nose is scrunched and her lips are parted just a little.

“I’m making you feel good, Jay.” His growl at her words turns into a near whine as her hand tightens just a little. “You’ve been so good for me, after all. I just want to show you how much I appreciate that.”

Just like that, he’s captive to the slow glide of her skin against his. Enraptured by the flutter of her eyelashes while wholly unprepared for the heat rising in his gut. Each soft loving word and sweet murmur into his ear has his balls tightening. Eventually, all Jake wants, all he needs, well other than the obvious, is a kiss. He breaks her concentration by tugging her in, her hands leaving his skin and cupping his face. When she pulls away, her eyes are molten and her hands a bit more forceful as she wraps them around him again. All too soon, the slap of water against the edge of the tub harmonizes with the sounds of his moans ricocheting off the tiles.

“Shit, sweetheart.” The words leave him in a harsh hiss, barely words at all. “Y’keep putting those pretty hands on me like that and I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“Who said I want you to stop yourself, Jay?” Those honeyed words have him grunting his orgasm into the delicate column of her neck, his body twisting as he moans. When he comes back to himself he peppers kisses across Gorgeous’ flushed skin. But sadly, he’s too exhausted to return the favor. All he can do is paw gently at her skin as she drains the tub, rinses him off, and helps him dress. Sleep when it tugs him under is even sweeter when he’s got his fiancée in his arms. Maybe in the morning he can return the favor? And later, much later, mind you, win her dad over?

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#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #sometimes all you need (a getaway car)

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