Series tags: Two-shot | hairstylist! F!reader | Reader has a nickname related to her job | friends to lovers | no physical descriptions of Reader
Part I
Frankie wants you to cover up his grays. You want to knock some sense into his salt-and-pepper head.
Sneak peek | extra peek
Part II
Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’
Sneak peek
Shiv’s Salon drabbles
Hair appointment requests featuring Shiv and various Pedro boys as well as crossovers with my other fics. Mostly humour, a couple more risqué than others!
Drabble: Max Lord (TLOU apocalypse crossover requested by @prolix-yuy)
Drabble: Marcus Moreno (requested by @radiowallet)
Drabble: Javier Peña (requested by @imaswellkid and anon)
Drabble: Jack Daniels (requested by @miss-mandalorian and anon)
Drabble: Dieter Bravo (requested by @damnyoupedro)
Drabble: Javi Gutierrez (requested by @psychedelic-ink)
Warnings: Silver Fucking Fox Frankie Morales' beach body. You have been warned.
A/N: I'll be fucked-- it's actually called Hot Dad Summer. I could not, for the fucking life of me, give it a better name. I just apologize. This is part of the Sinful 666th Follower Mini-Celebration and is based on This Request
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You guys were at the beach with the kids because after the incident at the pool you told Frankie you were never showing your face there again.
The beach wasn’t easy-- it was almost an hour’s drive and that was always tricky. Frankie was up at six am prepping because “Traffic’s going to be terrible, we don’t want them there when it’s the heat of the day, we need time to stop in case we forget something, there’s all kinds of shit.”
You had chuckled against your coffee cup, “How on earth did Colombia go so shitty if you’re this paranoid about everything?”
“Those fuckers never listen to me, and you know that.” He shook his head.
Colombia seemed like a distant memory these days.
The twins were nearly four, Lila was almost eight. You two were able to sleep in for an extra hour some mornings or, as was the case today, prep for war.
Frankie was distracted by his preparations and you were just sort of trailing after him, observing.
“You going to help?” He asked playfully as he re-arranged the stack of folding chairs and umbrellas.
“I got a good view from here, I’m fine.” You sipped your coffee and watched his ass as he bent into the trunk. He knew what you were doing and wagged a finger at you.
“I’m not a piece of meat.”
“Less talky, more bendy. Also it’s hot just take the shirt off.”
He laughed a little and pushed out of the car, kissed you, “You wearing the bikini?”
You had a love-hate relationship with the bikini.
In the changing room you had loved it.
You felt differently when you tried it on at home.
In fact you hadn’t even walked out of your home bathroom to show it to Frankie and he had been pouty about it.
He must have read your mind, “Come on, where’s my eye candy?”
You snorted, “Somewhere in 2012.”
He kissed you. It lasted a second longer than either of you had planned on, sweet with a touch of heat. He was conscious of your coffee cup, gently boxed you against the side of the minivan and let himself have a moment.
You hadn’t gotten pregnant on the long weekend-- and he had tried. Fuck had he tried. He tried so hard he was convinced you were going to have triplets next which he made the mistake of joking about on the flight home and you looked worried.
“Stop that Francisco the last time someone joked about multiples we had multiples.”
But that was almost two years ago.
Since then you had been less of a prison warden with yourself.
You were both getting older and the tentative order with which the house was currently running had left you both feeling suspiciously in control. The twins had qualified for the free-pre-K program, Lila was at school full time, Ginger didn’t know she wasn’t a puppy anymore.
You were feeling like leaving some things to fate.
Although, selfishly, especially given how that bikini looked on you in the glaring light of your home’s bulbs, you did not know if you could get through one more baby without having to like go buy some Dr. Scholl’s and get a bad but “easy to maintain” haircut and a non-ironic fanny pack.
You had been more and more aware of how goddamn good Frankie looked these days.
He’d been clean for eight years.
He had given up the occasional smokes he had.
By necessity alone he was drinking less with the boys-- there was just so little time to fit it in unless they were swinging by for a BBQ.
And you had instituted healthy eating for the girls and so you could fit into that bikini you now hated and that fucking man had dropped twenty pounds and you didn’t even know from where but he was looking fine. The gray in his hair helped.
Life was so unfair that it just didn’t necessarily work the same way for the woman.
But you got on your dumb bikini, hid it under a beach cover that probably was more mumsy than you wanted to admit and took charge of getting all the girls up, into suits, fed, and in the car as Frankie Jenga-ed the last of the accessories and took Ginger on a short walk.
At the beach Frankie had on an old and beat up hat, his aviators, an open Hawaiian shirt you thought was adorable and his suit was old, slinging low on his hips.
He had the girls on an assembly line making a positively massive sandcastle.
There was a bucket-water pipeline being supervised by Lila, Violet was sitting and calmly filling the molds with wet sand, and Goldie was in charge of shells.
You were making sure that this didn’t all go to hell in a handbasket because of a missed wave or a sneeze that wrecked the tower or a desire for a juicebox that devolved into a tantrum.
You were usually hands on-- every single morning while Frankie was already at work you made breakfast for three chaos demons and as they ate you went through the trenches pulling a brush through their hair, getting shoes on the correct feet, sometimes remembering to put adult pants on yourself for work, and then getting them to two separate before-care programs. You missed the days that you just dropped them off in their pajamas at Frankie’s mom’s in the morning and it only cost you passive aggressive comments about how they didn’t ever seem to have matching socks.
But your work also ended before Frankie’s and you were normally the one home for the busses, and on the very likely chance he worked the weekends you did soccer mornings and 4 H Meetings and that terrible stretch where Lila believed she liked Girl Scouts.
You used to agonize over putting your feet up when Frankie was in Daddy-Mode but now you knew better.
You would take your relaxation where you could get it.
And Frankie took his chaos where he could get it.
He knew his schedule didn’t line up perfectly with the girls. Until the twins were in school he had made an effort to always be home on Thursdays (the Day that Shall Not Be Named, the Day of All Three Children And Hellbeast Dog) and he would always try to tag you out when he could-- bathtimes or bedtimes or special weekend pancakes.
He loved stuff like this, because you saw the girls more than he did so sometimes he had two long ones back to back and came home on Wednesday having not really seen the girls since Sunday night and swore up and down that they had grown two inches a piece and just looked different.
He was having fun.
And the sandcastle was not your thing.
He was being really successful too-- no screaming, no crying, no kicking over of the sister’s piece of the castle.
And he just looked damn good doing it.
And you were not the only one who noticed.
You saw some girls come up looking for a place to put their blanket and then openly exclaim over the hot guy with the kids, wondering if he was the uncle. One playfully squeaked that he was definitely the daddy.
Good Lord.
When he and Lila made the moat around the sandcastle the girls traipsed down to the water only a few feet from him, swaying young hips in tiny bikinis.
He was busy pretending to be a crab monster.
You were now watching with greater interest.
The lifeguard, you noticed, had pivoted themself on the stand to give better vantage to...Frankie’s ass. That was it. That was the thing they were looking at unless they believed the moat to be an obvious drowning risk for the girls.
You were rolling your engagement ring around your finger.
You two had eloped.
There had been no exchanging of rings.
Frankie had poo-pooed the idea that he needed a fancy one because he kept ripping or losing the silicone ones-- he was on his eighth just this year.
So he was bare-handed.
You were neither mad or disappointed.
But fuck, you were feeling a little thirsty.
Sure, you were on the beach, and sure, yes, you saw that ass and his ass every day, but like…
What was it about the man being silly with the babies that made you and about every other sexually motivated creature in the vicinity pay attention?
There was a woman older than his mom that you saw ogling him.
And blessed idiot that he was he didn’t even seem to notice.
He came over to get the girls some snacks and once he had them seated on their own little blanket by the castle he came over and plopped next to you, feigning exhaustion.
You stroked his scruffy beard, “All tuckered out?”
“Yeah and I’m fucking dying, it’s getting hot out here, we have like maybe 2 more hours, tops.” He stripped off the Hawaiian shirt and rolled it up to mop sweat off his face.
“Uh, hon, keep your clothes on, we don’t need you getting featured on Tik Tok or whatever the kids these days do to show appreciation.”
“Shut up.” He said playfully, laying his head into your lap.
You snorted, “Don’t believe me?”
“I think you’re buttering me up to get me to move something heavy or take bathtime tonight.”
You petted his hair, “Alright well be subtle and check out my 5.”
Frankie could do subtle-- he stretched, arching his back, keeping the brim of his hat at the right angle and he saw a couple younger girls, twenties maybe, and one had her camera out and was...what? Taking a picture of him?
You leaned low and whispered, “She’s been eye-fucking you for twenty minutes. There’s been a fairly conservative back and forth as to whether or not you’re married to me or I’m the sister.”
Frankie laughed, “My sister? The hell would they think that for?”
“Uh because I haven’t done this---” You pulled him up by his chin, bringing him up for a kiss. He laughed a little against your mouth and repositioned you so you were under him.
PDA wasn’t your normal ride but like feast your eyes Gen-Z.
His hands flew under your beach cover and he broke the kiss, “Did you wear the bikini?”
You snorted, “Yes….yes I did. I don’t know if I feel like comparing my bikini to Kylie Jenner’s over there but yes, I am wearing it.”
He gave you a big, excited, lopsided smile, “Who the fuck is Kylie Jenner? And what do I have to do to get you out of this weird dress thing?”
“Uh-- convince Goldie not to eat that crab shell in her hand and I will unleash the Kraken.”
He was slow to process what you were saying and then flew around in a panic and went for Goldie before something was ingested that was going to get puked all over his minivan later.
You shook your head, laughing a little and pulled the cover over your head.
You had cellulite and you didn’t used to jiggle this way and there was a positively mysterious pattern of bruises and cuts and weird scars that you had absolutely no memory of receiving.
And when you started walking towards the sandcastle Frankie turned to look at you and you were clearly the only thing he was looking at.
A/N: Based on TWO Requests, one from the wonderful @phoenixhalliwell as seen HERE and one from my lovely Nonny who asked about Frankie and his lady and the lady secretly learning Spanish for him. This took forever because I do not speak Spanish and this is the product of a loooooot of the internet so like please feel free to correct me. Also the Spanish translations are ALL at the bottom if you want them, but I think it's kind of fun to be in the dark like the reader insert too.
Hey Team! March 2022 Update on this: thank you for the Spanish corrections! Even the title got a facelift!
This is the chronological beginning of the Frankie x reader relationship detailed in: The Gift, The Annoucement, Pancakes, and For Worse
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Frankie and Pope were standing shoulder to shoulder and Frankie kept looking at his shoes every time you so much as began to turn in his general direction.
It was getting on Pope’s last fucking nerve.
“Esta noche estás como una cabra.” Pope snorted and Frankie gave him an elbow to his side.
“Cállate.” Frankie hissed, looking around like somehow this had made him a neon sign. The bar was fairly packed, it was noisy enough nobody was eavesdropping but still…
“Shit.” He turned his back completely so that when you got up out of your seat to walk to the bathroom you only saw his jacket.
Pope exhaled slowly, “Dude you have to fucking stop. Or go. You should go. Go talk to her.”
Frankie took a deep sip of his beer and looked over at your empty chair, “I don’t know man.”
Pope rolled his eyes and drained his cup, “Yeah well, your round.”
He picked up his leg and full on nudged Frankie to the bar with his boot.
Frankie looked around, checking, and then walked up to the emptiest section of the bar which was about a foot from your stool.
Benny came over to Pope, sweaty, having been apparently taking a round on some sort of mechanical something. At least there had been mention of a bull. An hour ago. Benny slapped Pope on the shoulder and it was slick.
“Jesus, fuck, Ben, what did you do, fuck the thing?” Pope pushed Benny’s hand off and the kid laughed.
“No, but I’m not going to let some terminator-fucking-metal bull beat me.” Benny was breathing a little heavy but looked pleased with himself and he nodded to Pope’s cup, “Where’s mine?”
“Frankie’s round. Don’t get too excited, he’s going to bolt like a scared little bunny in a second.”
“Why?”
Pope nodded towards you as you came out of the bathroom and then pointed to your empty stool, “Proximity. You know how he gets.”
A Dennis-the-Menace smile broke out on Benny’s face, “This’ll be fun.”
“Benny…” Pope warned but Benny waved it off.
Benny sauntered up to Frankie and put both hands almost around his neck, Frankie giving him a strained look and said, “Why are you wet?”
“It took a while.”
Frankie looked concerned, “What did?”
“Not getting thrown off.” Benny shrugged.
“Excuse me.” You said gently and Frankie nearly threw himself on the bar to make space but Benny stood there and let you slide across him a little with a smile, “Sorry.”
“No harm.” You assured him and peeked at Frankie. You thought he’d been looking at you. It was hard to tell. Anytime you got half the nerve to look at him it felt like he got busy.
Your girlfriend elbowed you-- she’d been making fun of you all night about him but you were not sure...this wasn’t usually your thing.
Benny leaned his head to Frankie, “Ella es linda.”
“Basta!” Frankie snipped, blushing, worried you could overhear them.
Benny winked and leaned over the bar, “Ustedes bellezas hablan español?”
“Te voy a pegar.” Frankie stepped hard on Benny’s foot but Benny just kicked him back.
You smiled and shook your head, “Sorry?”
Benny beamed, “My bad, I lose track sometimes. Used to speak it for work.”
He reached out a hand, “Benny.”
He nodded next to him, “My buddy Frankie.”
You smiled, introduced yourself and your friend, conveniently right when the bartender noticed the boys and asked what was needed. Frankie stumbled over his words, ordering for the boys, and then nodded towards you and your friend, “Can I buy you guys a drink?”
You were nervously fidgeting but your friend hopped to and answered Yes and then Benny smiled and waved Pope over.
As Pope approached he winked at Benny, leaning into Fish and whispering, “¿Estás disfrutando?”
Frankie shoved him back a little, “Pinche pendejo.”
Pope eyed Benny, “La invitó a salir?”
Frankie hissed again, “Quit it.”
Benny smirked but shook his head, then turned to help drinks get distributed. Your friend thought Benny was cute, like a puppy, and quickly asked him if he had chased a tennis ball into the river which at least got a laugh from the boys. As they traded flirtations you noticed she slowly but surely took your seat, which was closer to Benny, and you got pushed to the floor.
Well, you were standing, leaning against the bar, next to Frankie, who rolled his eyes at Benny, “If he had a tail he’d be wagging it.”
You snorted, “She would find that adorable. She’s a vet.”
Frankie looked impressed and then he leaned in, “What do you do?”
“Librarian.” You felt a slight embarrassment creep over you, “I work at the elementary school library.”
His face lit up, “That sounds sweet, I love kids. You get to do any of the fun stuff? They too big for the pop up books?”
“Hell no! Pop up books are my October-- oooo spooky graveyard pop-ups! Boo!”
What the fuck were you saying.
Jesus.
But at least Frankie seemed amused.
It turned into an interesting night-- Frankie was shy but was brought out of his shell by the effervescence of Pope and Benny, both of them breaking to (you imagined) rib him in Spanish from time to time. You had no idea. Spoke enough Spanish to sort of know a Taco Bell menu. Even then, you doubted yourself.
But you got to know them and it certainly wasn’t the worst use of your night-- your friend was more the bar type, this wasn’t your usual scene.
They had been military together, now they were all bouncing around and trying to find work, trying to stick together. There was a brothership among them, one that made you feel comfortable.
You found out Frankie had a house, one town over. Something small, his grandma’s old house that was left to him.
You were smiling an awful lot for someone who “hated coming to these things”.
“Things?” He gently nudged your arm.
“A pick up, she” You referenced your friend, “was looking to find--”
“A Benny?” Frankie nodded.
“Yeah, pretty much.” You laughed, “And good for her.”
“Not so much your thing though?” He seemed a little...disappointed?
Fuck.
How did you re-orient this?
“Uh, I mean,” You flustered, “I’m not the type to come out and just get a puppy. I mean I have a dog, but like...I guess you could say I’m more...into…”
You were struggling here.
“Fishing?”
He choked on his beer, “Come again?”
“Like...I move at a slightly slower pace. I don’t mind...waiting.”
That made him smile, you had no idea why.
Your friend had all but put a collar on Benny and was planning on the full nine yards-- leaving the window open for him to stick his head out and then giving him space in the bed to sleep in. He was precisely her brand of big dumb mutt.
You were walking to your car and Frankie was shadowing you. Pope had shouted “Besarla” and Frankie had thrown him the bird.
You had to learn fucking Spanish.
You just knew somehow this was about you.
But you didn’t think anything bad was happening. It wasn’t like they were plotting to murder you behind your back it felt a lot more….playful.
Hopefully, anyway, you’d been known to read people wrong in the past.
But at any rate he walked you back to your car and wished you a nice night and watched you stand there awkwardly, shuffling your feet, trying to figure out how to phrase it and finally you blurted, “I, uh…. I sometimes get a long lunch? Wednesdays. They’re my days. For things. Like eating. Maybe….”
His face lit up, “I would really like that.”
He passed you a bar napkin with his number on it just as Pope was yelling, “Your ride is leaving Fish!”
“Fish?” You cocked an eyebrow at him-- had you dreamed up that his name was Frankie?
He shrugged, “Long story...but yeah, Fish. For those idiots...you call me whatever you want just don’t forget to call, ok?”
You smiled as he walked back to his friend’s car and watched him-- those jeans on his hips, you were...distracted.
It wasn’t until he had driven away you realized that your fucking fish line played a little differently for him and were so swallowed up by embarrassment that you almost didn’t call him.
_____________________
You were cursed.
You just fucking knew it.
This was your luck
Every other Wednesday nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing. Boring ass Wednesdays.
Now there was a book recall, a broken shelf, a fight-- a fucking fight-- and according to your super the building was out of water and you had to get the dog at some point.
Fuck.
You didn’t want to cancel your date but like...how? How were you meant to manage everything that landed on your lap?
You were dialing.
Fuck.
Ah well, these things never did work out for you.
“Hey!” Frankie clearly had your number saved, he answered with a smile and a level of enthusiasm that made Pope slap his arm with a Really? Tone it down expression.
“Hi!” You were smiling and frowning and fucking Christ, couldn’t it just...work itself out?
“What’s up? Looking forward to lunch.”
“About that…”
Frankie’s face fell and he covered the phone with his hand.
“Lo sabia,” He hissed to himself and Pope gave him a questioning look so he explained, “Ella esta cancelando.”
“Por que?”
“No se.”
Pope gestured wildly to the phone like Pay attention then dumbass.
Frankie tuned back into you and caught the majority of how your day had gone and you sighed deeply, “I’m pissed-- this is the first time my Wednesday has imploded like this and I just...I wanted to see you. I just..I don’t know what to with Fred.”
“Fred?” Frankie might have snapped a little too hard on that question-- he was not aware he was in any sort of competition with someone but if he was he wanted enough information to do some opposition research.
“Fred is my dog.” You were flushed with a spark of … was he….did he sound jealous?
About you?
Frankie sighed, a little relieved, “I love dogs.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah why don’t we just….move lunch later? After your work? Go to the park?”
You were smiling but he couldn’t see that and he thought your pause was an indication that you were just trying to nicely cancel completely on him.
“Unless he’s not into other people or something…”
“I mean Fred’s judgmental but in a good way.” You were nodding to yourself, “That sounds really nice, actually...are you really ok with it? I’m sorry, I just...the day….I would be a lot less likely to be a total trainwreck if I had the time on my hands now to sort through the mess in front of me.”
Pope was reading Frankie’s face and nodding, whispering, “Es una cita?”
Frankie nodded and continued, “So like, you, me, and Fred and….”
“Quien es Fred?” Pope was genuinely confused.
“Su perro.” Frankie hissed and then got back to you, “And...burgers? Fred like those? Or he more of a pizza guy?”
“Freddy likes burgers. No cheese. Unless you really enjoy terrible flatulence.”
That made Frankie laugh.
“Ok….what time?”
“Five?”
“Five is good, I’ll see you both at five at...which park?”
You named your favorite and heard another listing conversation between him and, you assumed, one of his friends in Spanish.
Fuck you needed to learn some Spanish. You eyed the clock-- you had at least fifteen more minutes before the parent meeting about the fight and….
You went over to the right shelf and pulled a Spanish dictionary.
Had he said Puro? Pero? Perro? What was that?
Well...this was all about the possibilities, wasn’t it?
This was, of course, good but like...he enjoyed Frankie so much that he kept jumping on him. The jump of a large, older dog who gave about zero fucks about listening to your pleas to stop.
Long and short of it, Frankie had gotten jumped on at the wrong place, wrong time, and had fallen into a pond getting soaking wet and only managing to save his phone by chucking it--- and then Fred retrieved it for him but promptly chewed on the case (with love).
So you were really expecting to never see this guy again.
Which is why you were surprised when you were coming back from a faculty meeting (that, you’re just saying, could’ve been an email) and you saw two men waiting by your library door.
You smiled widely when you recognized Frankie and the human labrador your friend had taken a shine to, “Benny right?”
“That’s me.”
“Are you boys here for Read Across America or can I help you with something different?”
You opened the door to the library and walked them in.
Benny looked around, “You work here?”
“Yeah.”
“You need to go to school for this or just like books a lot?”
You smirked, “I went to school for it...at the time seemed perfect, but I’m trying to broaden my horizons. It’s not bad. But I don’t know if reading Green Eggs and Ham to kids is my whole life, you know?”
Benny was eyeing the books and nodding, “That’s cool.”
“Any ideas what’s next on your horizon?” Frankie asked.
You shrugged, “I got a couple irons in the fire….now I do love being surprised by handsome men but I gather you might have a reason for surprising me? Unless it’s to ask me to replace your whole outfit from Fred’s...excessive love.”
“Fred’s affections are worth the laundry.” Frankie smirked, eyeing a plaque on the wall that pronounced you Employee of the Quarter. “Lista y linda.”
“Fuera de tu alcance.” Benny smirked but Frankie elbowed him, aware the constant forays into Spanish might not be...polite.
“Yeah I have a proposition for you.” Frankie leaned against your desk and you did not at all hate what it did to his hips in his jeans. No you did not.
“Which is?”
“His brother’s got an engagement party tonight. It’s boring. We have to go. I would really like it if you came.”
Benny butted in, “Also, is your friend available?”
You smiled, “I can make a call and bring Fred home a cheeseburger to console him in his loneliness.”
The boys both beamed.
At the party you found yourself enjoying the whole gang-- and it was a whole gang. Benny’s brother was blonder and smarter than him (and his fiance, while nice, seemed really over Benny), Benny was everyone’s labrador it seemed, and Pope, who you had met at the bar, was a little bit more relaxed here. He was the only one at the table without a date, something the boys ribbed him for but he pointed to a gaggle of women at what appeared to be the bridesmaids table, “No voy a estar mucho tiempo solo.”
Based on his expression and how a few of the bridesmaids turned to eye him down you generally thought you could understand what he meant.
And he seemed to be right. Within an hour he had two of them bickering over who was going to get a dance from him.
Frankie was in a button down-- more dressed up than you had previously seen him but this was a fairly casual affair. It was outside, under tents to protect against the tempestuous clouds on the horizon, there were some open grills with heavenly aromas coming off of them and picnic style tables everywhere. The boys all seemed to put on their “good clothes” but they were as playful with one another as if they were still in the bar you’d met them at.
Then an older man with a wife and two tweens approached and said, “They’ll let just about anyone in here, won’t they?”
The boys all hopped up and got in line to hug the man and offer a polite embrace or kiss on the cheek to the woman who was apparently his wife. He introduced himself as Tom, “This is my wife Molly, our girls Tessa and Mia.”
Frankie wrapped an arm around you, introducing you with a real wide smile and then laughed as Benny tripped over your friend’s name and botched it twice before she elbowed him, rolled her eyes, and did it herself.
Tom eyed you.
“He was our CO.” Frankie whispered in your ear, “We all have a lot of respect for Redfly.”
“CO?”
“Commanding Officer, he was in charge of ordering us around and not getting us killed, which, I don’t know if you noticed, he did good with.” Frankie patted himself as if to demonstrate he was not dead and you smiled at him, tipping back the last little bit of champagne you had and he promptly held out his hand, “You want another?”
“Sure.”
Frankie was smiling like a fool and he could feel that but… he liked you.
At the bar Tom came up, elbowing Frankie in the ribs, and nodding behind them, “How long has that been going on?”
“It’s fresh.” Frankie confessed, “Met her last week at a bar. It’s...real casual.”
“Casual?” Tom cocked an eyebrow, “¿Te llevas con ella?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Frankie turned to look at where you were sitting, laughing with your friend who was trying to convince Benny to not, not, attempt to go to that keg and do something stupid. “I mean, I’m not opposed, it...just...I don’t know. Don’t know her well enough.”
“But you’re trying to?”
“Yeah, I don’t…” Frankie nodded a thanks at the bartender and slipped some singles into the tip jar as he accepted the drinks, “I don’t know. She makes me feel...something. I don’t want to fuck up.”
Tom clapped his shoulder, “Here’s the sage advice from the married guy, when your gut says Don’t fuck it up try really hard not to.”
Frankie snorted “Thanks Red.”
Tom squeezed his shoulder, “Anytime...she’s cute.”
The date was going well.
Great setting: all his friends were being themselves, and you didn’t mind them. You looked great. He had gotten to dance with you and you had accidentally stumbled on an innuendo when you told him that you were surprised by how well he moved his hips, complaining you were not half to good a dancer, and he whispered, “Oh I don’t know...I think we move just fine.”
That had dried your throat out and he had nudged your nose with his like he was thinking about ---
“BENNY STOP!” Will barked and all the boys spun to find what was happening.
It was instinctual-- it sometimes took a whole fucking army to keep Benny from hurting himself.
Your friend gave you a very tired look and a shrug of, “I tried.”
Benny was currently doing a keg stand.
This might have been a casual engagement party but it was not yet that casual and one look over at Will and his fiance and you could tell she was pissed.
Frankie groaned, “This isn’t going to end well.”
“What? You guys didn’t have to become like black belts in gymnastics to be super-soldiers?”
Frankie snorted a laugh and waved his hand up and down, “None of that is a thing.”
You both watched as Benny chugged-- so far so good.
Frankie hissed, “It’s going to be the dismount.”
“Probably.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it apologetically.
“I think I better go...prepare? Help?”
“Yeah I think so.” You squeezed him back, “But uh...you know, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you, sorry.” He brought your hand up and quickly kissed it before rushing over to help the boys try to brace Benny.
The problem was Benny didn’t want to be braced.
“Clear the floor for me!” He commanded.
“Benny, please don’--”
“Clear the floor!”
They all groaned and gave as much space as they could without sacrificing their position between Will’s fiance and Benny.
He pushed off the keg-- but with Benny it was not enough to just get off the keg. He tried to flip. He tried to flip, which spun the keg out from under him, spilled beer the length of the dance floor, and also prevented him from getting sufficient height for a full rotation on the flip, meaning that he landed, in the middle of a beer puddle, badly. You all heard his knee and you flinched as his legs went out from under him and he slammed his head against the metal side of the keg and cut his forehead wide open.
“You’re a fucking prince, you know that?!” Will snarled as he grabbed a napkin to dab at Benny’s head and Tom just pinched the bridge of his nose and then took a breath.
“Alright-- Will, you stay here, help finish out your party, calm your lady down, I’ll help you clean up,” Redfly had the boss voice on and the guys were all listening, “Fish, you take Benny to the ER, Pope you follow him in Benny’s car, do not let him drive himself with a head injury.”
The guys snapped into action with Fish briefly looking over at you, shrugging and you laughed, patting your friend’s shoulder, “It’s ok, I got a ride home.”
She shook her head, “This is why you always bring your own car. Idiot. Tremendous in bed. Fucking idiot though.”
Benny smiled at that, “So I can call you?”
“Shut up Benny.” Frankie rolled his eyes at him and Pope looked over at a couple of girls and shrugged, “Sorry ladies-- duty calls.”
After many reassuring texts that --no I get it, it’s fine, Benny is an idiot --And then the quick I say that with love-- Oh trust me, I know, Benny’s an idiot-- you two tried to settle on another date.
You were in the park, waiting for him for almost a half hour with Fred snoring on your feet, when the text came, I am so so sorry-- but my battery died. Slight detour. Do you want to reschedule?
You thought about it. Freddy and I don’t mind waiting.
Freddy judges me doesn’t he?
Only a little but he’s easy to persuade.
He was going to make it to that fucking park if he had to walk.
You didn’t mind.
You waited because it was quiet out here-- the sun was long since set, the stars were coming out, the dog was so happy to be on grass, and you could not stop thinking about this guy even though you weren’t even completely sure what was happening. You were...so very intrigued. Invested. How? Nothing had happened. But it was this delightful pit-of-your-stomach feeling like you could just...think about him. For hours.
And you had been.
Not just today.
The things you’d been thinking about….
“Buenas noches bonita.” Someone said behind you and it perked up Freddy enough that he woke up, tail wagging, going over to sniff and half-heartedly jump on the person in front of him, “What are you doing?”
“Waiting on some guy, trying to stand me up. Can’t ever finish out a date can this guy.” You moved over on the park bench to make room for him.
“Sounds like an idiot.” Frankie moved in next to you, “Got time for me instead?”
You smiled and tipped your head back, “I don’t know a damn thing about them, but I really like looking at them.”
The stars were out tonight. Out and bright and blinking bright.
“I like the stars, can’t see them everywhere.” Frankie had that look on his face, the look that made you have faith in good people. It was earnest-- he was tired but he pushed to come see you, he had been frustrated at the hang ups of the evening but he left them behind before he sat down next to you.
Then, as you two let your heads bob flirtatiously, nudging, nuzzling, like you were trying to decide what came next, a star fell.
“Was that?” You pointed it out to him but he was nodding, “I think it was. Wishing star.”
You leaned closer.
“¿Qué deseo pediste?” You whispered in his ear and he sat bolt upright, looked at you, shocked to the core.
“¿Ésto es nuevo?” He almost sounded nervous.
“Si.” You smiled, “Para...hablarme como uno tus amigos.”
You knew you had butchered it but you had tried and he seemed to generally understand. You really had tried.
He shook his head, “When did you do that?”
“I …” You were almost embarrassed, “I like to read.”
You bit your lip and gently nudged his shoulder, “What did you wish for?”
Instead of answering he leaned in, “You uh...you used the wrong word.”
“Which one?” For a second you were confused.
“You said amigos.” He tipped his nose against yours, “That’s not the word I had in mind.”
You felt his lips on yours, excitement bubbling behind them, making him a little more insistent than he would normally be for a first kiss. You were pleased--wrapping a hand around his neck, pulling him closer, giving a tiny little groan when he deepened it that shot right through him and made him think he really had to keep treading careful waters. This...it felt like a great last first kiss. You were toe to toe with him, measure for measure, nobody turned or twisted but the other was ready, nobody pushed but the other was ready to open up and you were both panting a little when Freddy whined, startled you both into remembering you were in public, and then Frankie just shook his head, “Estoy soñando?”
A/N: Sorry this request took longer than many of the others, but to be fair was also longer than many of the others. Thank you Nonny and Phoenix!
No Beta Reading. Ever. I should. I know I should. But somehow it is more me to just realize how many mistakes are in it after I send it out into the world.
Series tags: enemies to lovers | jealousy | angst | humour | smut | short series | Reader has no physical description
Part 1: Consent
You are the intimacy coordinator for Dieter Bravo’s risqué new film. When he fails to show up for rehearsal, you go in search for him. Did you really expect to find him in anything but a compromising position?
Hi, I'm Cee (she/her)! I write romantic comedies for Pedro Pascal characters and I update slowly. If you're new around here and want a taste of my writing, I suggest you start with the drabbles, which are the shortest and a good way to see if it's for you.
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I think Tommy would definitely get emotional at least one time after seeing Joel and Ellie together being soft and gentle. Seeing his brother coming back to life because of this kid, seeing the peaceful expressions on their face when they're outside under a blanket looking at the stars will have him wiping away tears, seeing Joel become the gentle parent he always was, and seeing how this loud mouthed feral kid becomes the sweetest person in his presence would be everything for him.
Something about the way Ellie holds on to Joel, and how Joel has his arms securing her in the show,
I know this doesn't seem like a big deal, as someone who rides a bike and has people ride with me on the back of the bike I often know how comfortable they feel by the way they hold on to me.
She is half hugging him and he has his arms in a way thats securing her, and its just so full of affection, even insubtle ways Joel makes sure she's safe incase she falls asleep, and he has a hold on her. At this point they just completely lean into those father daughterness. It just makes me think of how cold and loveless Fedra made her life, and how affection starved she was, look at her face when she leans into Joel, Joel had no chance against this kid, she's just so damn loveable, and you can see how much she loves and adores Joel, damn you Pedro and Bella (affectionately) my brain is rotting
I dont know why but whenever someone holds on to me like that on the bike, Im like "I'll protect you with my life".
Frank once had to beg for resources just to paint the house and Bill was reluctant because he didn’t understand it.
At the end of their lives, we see Frank’s paintings everywhere, all over their house and town. Which means that he not only was able to get Bill to see the importance of maintaining art and beauty, but that Bill went out of his way to make sure Frank always had paint on hand.
That just goes to show the strength of their love and Bill’s character development. One of the most romantic queer media pieces I’ve ever watched. Beautiful, gutting, perfect.
