IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]
twenty-four — that same old dimpled smile. wc: 1.4k
knock.
knock.
knock.
he’s here.
you open the door with nothing but compliance. the cool air from outside flooding you with a chill that tickles your skin.
you brush your arm with the other hand, looking from the floor, slowly to meet his eyes.
he’s looking right at you, he has been since you opened the door, a searching expression in his eyes.
“hey yn.”
you pause and he smiles.
that same old dimpled smile.
“hi jaehyun.”
FLASHBACK: the night of chenles party. jaehyuns pov
he didn’t know what to do; with his feelings, with his life, with you.
he stands with yuta in the corner of the party, swirling a half empty cup in his hand.
yuta notices that jaehyun is distracted, so he tries to get his attention, tapping him on his arm.
“bro? you okay?”
jaehyun nods. “i’m just..”
“yn?”
there’s a pause. “yeah.”
“dude, you need to get over her. it’s been years. she hates you!”
jaehyun stares at him in annoyance and yuta laughs before apologising.
“im gonna go to the bathroom, have my drink.” jaehyun says, stumbling away from yuta.
“gee thanks!” yuta says sarcastically, watching his friend try and keep himself on his feet.
but jaehyun doesn’t make it to the toilet before his arm is dragged and he finds himself in a room, the door shut and a girls voice slurring to him. and she sounds angry.
“jeong jaehyun!!!!!!” the mystery girl yells, “you idiot!!!”
she hits him on the arm and jaehyun frowns in annoyance.
she says, “i hate you!!!”
jaehyun rolls his eyes, suspecting that she’s just the friend of some girl he slept with and “forgot” to text the next morning.
“well im sorry to your friend, but she isn’t her.”
he turns his body to leave the room but giselle stops him.
“she isn’t her?” giselle asks. “oh so your pining, that’s why you’re so moody.”
jaehyun freezes. this girl was persistent. “im not moody.”
“oh yeah right, you’ve always been moody!!!! ever since you ruined yn’s life!! you hate her, for absolutely no reason may i add!!!”
“you’re friends with yn?” he backs away.
“no. she’s just… popular.. everyone knows what you did.”
he tenses even more. he did ruin your life, he thinks. it was all his fault. he never told you the truth.
so now, he’s going to.
“i don’t hate her.”
the girl stiffens. “what?”
jaehyun walks further into the room, the absence of light and his drunken state allowing him to struggle finding the bed, but when he does, he sits, giselle sitting next to him.
“i dont hate yn, i never have, it was all a stupid rumour that i was too dumb to say wasn’t real in fear that she’d find out that i…”
“that you what?”
“that i like her.”
she sits up straight, silent filling the space between them.
“you liked her?”
“i like her.” he pauses, “of course i like her, she’s…she’s yn.”
“wow… thats…”
“stupid? yeah. i know. but you know what’s even more stupid?”
“what?”
“i made a dumb burner number so i could let out all my feelings without her knowing it was me.”
“what??!!!” she stands up. jaehyun looks at her in surprise. “so… it’s you? you’re Y?”
“yeah. how did you know that?”
“it doesn’t matter. look jaehyun, you can’t do this.”
“you think i don’t know that?” he stresses, “i’ve been trying to rid my feelings for years, i thought letting her hate me would atleast help with that.”
“…she can’t find out you like her.” the girl whispers, “you have to end this!!!!”
jaehyuns silent. “i have to end this.”
“give me your phone.” giselle says, arm outstretched.
“what? why?”
“because i’m going to help you get over her, even if it means she hates me too. and step one? letting her know.”
jaehyun hands her phone to jaehyun, and she types 3 words.
i’m over you.
“step two? you’re not going back into that party.”
“can i atleast know your name?”
“no.”
FLASHBACK OVER.
you let him in. just like last time. you’re willing to listen. you have to listen.
you have to know how this makes sense.
he was over you.
“but… the new Y, those messages… they-“
“were me.”
you’re silent. he looks at you with pity.
“it’s me. it’s always been me, before and now.” he pauses. “i’m Y, yn… again…”
“but… you, you can’t be..” you’re shaking, unable to understand what the hell is going on.
“listen, i’ll explain everything i promise.” he rests his hand on your shoulder, urging you to sit down. he sits next to you before he continues.
“the first time i told you i was Y… i thought it was a mistake. your friend giselle had tried to talk me out of it, even hooked up with me so i wouldn’t run to you, albeit i didn’t even know it was her until you told me, but i ended up coming to you anyways. and when i saw the look on your face? the disappointment that she warned me about? i couldn’t stand it. she was right, i had to get over you.”
your brows furrow, she had tried to convince him?
jaehyun continues, “so i lied, i told you i was over you, in hopes that i could do it. in hopes that, finally, i could forget about my feelings and let you be happy. but i couldn’t do it. and so i panicked. i tried to reverse everything. i was desperate yn, and so i tried to make it look like it was someone else again, that i was Y, past tense. i even spoke to yuta about it, and his dumbass said it was a good idea. i thought i made a mistake by telling you it was me, so i made up some random shit to make it seem like someone else.”
“what…?”
“it was always me… it won’t ever not be me. only from now on, ill try not be a fucking coward about it.” he laughs quietly, but when he notices the confusion in your face, he falters.
“i know i made this all so messy. but i care about you.” he sighs, “alot.”
“so all those messages saying ‘i’m glad jaehyun’s over you.’… that was just to make me think you weren’t Y, so that i’d really believe you were over me.”
“yeah.. i know i’m being selfish by telling you i still like you but, i hate lying to you. i don’t ever want to lie to you again. you don’t deserve that.”
you finally take a deep breath, one you’ve been holding since you let him inside.
“i like you, yn.” he nods down to your hands, asking if he can hold them and you nod your head. he takes them in his, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles gently. “i screwed up. this whole time, it wasn’t a case of me getting over you, it was a case of me getting over the fact that i wasn’t.”
you can’t help but smile in relief, a relief that you’re so incredibly unsure where it comes from.
“but i don’t think ill ever be.”
as if on instinct, you had risen to your toes, throwing your arms over his shoulders. his head falls to the nape of your neck and he hugs you, arms closing around the small of your back.
it’s warm, comfortable. you’ve missed this.
you can hear him, feel him, breathing. he’s finally calm, the same composed jaehyun that you and everyone else know him as. the hiphop team captain that only talks to those he thinks deserve his attention, and sleeps with the rest.
you pull away but he keeps his hands on your waist, you clear your throat and they flinch away, falling back to his side as he laughs.
“i’m sorry, about everything.” jaehyuns says, “i’ve made everything so hard for you, when all i wanted to do was make it easier.”
you nod, lips pursing into a small smile.
he continues. “i don’t expect you to suddenly grow your feelings for me back,” he laughs, “i just hope you’ll, maybe, hate me a little less.”
“thank you jaehyun. i mean it.”
his dimples show.
“and.. i don’t think i can hate you now.”
“really?”
“i mean… not if you try on a tutu infront of the boys..” you laugh, and he looks at you in terror before playfully chasing you around your dorm.
it’s nice, being friends with him again.
you should be scared. you should be anxious.
but something tells you, this time, he won’t let you hate him, that this time he won’t let his feelings come inbetween you.
something tells you this time will be very different
mlist — next
notes; well well well 😁😁😁😁 i am so absolutely horrified to post this chapter because ik you guys have been anticipating it like CRAZY😟😟 ive enjoyed all the theories and everything sososoooo much im definitely gonna include smn with possible theories in my next smau cus it’s been so fun🙏🙏🙏🙏 i rlly wana properly say thank you because u guys have been giving me so much support on this and it makes it so much more fun to write!!! i rlly hope you’re enjoying it as much as i am making it. there’s still quite a bit to go but Y is FINALLY REVEALEDDD🤗🤗🤗 (fr this time i swear)
taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze
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Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)
AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.
Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)
Word Count: 2.9k
Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)
LGGA Masterlist
Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.
It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted.
Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.
So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.
Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.
“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.
“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.
Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.
It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him.
You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.
Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.
He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you.
Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything.
Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?
“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”
“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”
“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about.
It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.
“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.
“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”
Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.
Not like that, though.
“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.”
“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.
/
Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty.
It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.
“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.
“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.
Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”
You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.
You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important.
“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.
“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.
“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”
“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”
You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”
“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”
“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.
If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.
Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about.
He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.
But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?
Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.
He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.
Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.
Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”
Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.
The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.
Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue.
“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.
You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.
“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.
Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.
He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.
Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.
Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.
“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.
He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.
Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.
With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.
He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct.
“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”
“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.
You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.
Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.
You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.
Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.
“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.
Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.
You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.
Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.
It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.
You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.
“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”
There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.
He feels better around you, too.
You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.
Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.
/
He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.
Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.
“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.
“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts.
Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.
Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.
Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.
It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.
It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.
“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.
“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”
“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.
You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.
You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.
“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.
/
When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.
He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.
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what about sev and reader meeting little fucker'd girlfriend's parents?
sevika it's like "im killing your daughter if she hurts my baby" and then one of the parents it's like "no, im killing your daughter if she hurts my daughter" and then sevika just shrugs like "yeah that's fair"
this is just so funny i'm such a sucker for family fics heheh
men and minors dni
your daughter's been dating her girlfriend for two years now, and in the fall they'll be going off to college together, so you and sevika figured it was time to bite the bullet and meet her parents.
it's not that you don't want to. it's just that... your family is definitely a lot for those not as used to it as smooches is (smooches is the nickname the twins came up with for little fucker's girlfriend-- because of all the kisses the two are always sharing) and smooches comes from a quiet family.
she's an only child, both of her parents are super smart lawyer types-- and you and sevika both worry that they'll take one look at your home (currently in disrepair because the twins are going through a 'science experiment' phase) and your family (whose love language is teasing and squabbling) and they'll decide that their daughter actually shouldn't be spending so much time with her girlfriend and family. which would break both of your hearts, because as much as you tease little fucker and smooches--your daughter's girlfriend is basically your family now.
she's over for dinner more nights than not, she spends the night on weekends, and the twins adore her.
so, you're all trying to be on your best behavior at dinner tonight. (trying being the key word, because there are just some familial duties that even the best behavior cannot stop.)
stinkerbutt goes around the table at the restaurant and pulls out each chair for the adults, helping push in smooches' dads in with some help from her twin, kissing you and sevika's cheeks sweetly when she pushes you two up to the table.
shithead very politely stacks all your dishes and glasses together between bread, appetizers, and after dinner-- ensuring the table is easy to clear for the waitresses and there's more room for everyone to spread out.
you and sevika exchange pleasentries with mr. and mr. smooches, asking them about work and drama on the pta at the girls' high school-- and you even get some friendly banter going when it's revealed that sevika and one of smooches' dads' share favorite television shows. they spend about fifteen minutes gushing to each other about the writing while you and smooches' remaining dad roll your eyes fondly-- both happy they're not talking to you about the nerdy shit for a change.
there's not one stain on any of your sort-of matching outfits-- little fucker wanted to look like a unit so she insisted you all wear blue-- and you're under the impression that you've made it through the night with out incident.
you're wrong.
but, surprisingly, it isn't your family that starts it tonight.
"i have to say something." mr. smooches mumbles at the end of the night as you're waiting for dessert to be brought to the table.
"babe--" his husband responds, in that same placating tone you recognize from how often you use it on sevika. "it's been such a nice night."
"pops please don't." smooches groans from her seat beside him.
still, mr. smooches clears his throat and takes a sip of his wine before speaking.
"you all are a lovely family," he begins while his daughter groans and hides her face behind her hands, "and i am so grateful my daughter's found someone who loves her so much-- and someone whose family loves her too..." you all wait in tense silence for him to continue.
"but?" little fucker asks.
"but it is my duty as a father to tell all of you that if my daughter is ever hurt-- physically or emotionally-- i do know lawyers who can make murder charges disappear." he says with a shrug.
you raise an eyebrow at his husband, impressed, and he groans and buries his own face in his hands-- just like his daughter.
beside you, sevika bursts into laughter and smacks his back. "i didn't think you had it in you!" she cackles.
"what do you mean?" smooches asks from between her dads, her mortification lessening at sevika's reaction.
"i've been watchin' your old man try to work up the courage to threaten us all night."
"it wasn't a threat! it was just a fun fact about myself i wanted to share." smooches dad says with a growing smile. sevika cackles.
"well, here's a fun fact about our family-- together i think we've got, what was it babe? twenty three?"
"twenty four." you fill in for sevika. sevika grins and kisses your cheek.
"twenty four cousins in prison, so, y'know. we probably wouldn't be able to get rid of the charges, but we'd definitely know how to handle the bodies." she says with a shrug.
the table bursts into laughter, and mr. smooches reaches across the table to give sevika a solid handshake.
you and his husband sit back and watch with fond amusement as your daughters attempt to sneak away from the table without anybody noticing.
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