summary: you may or may not have a thing for the (older) sleazy line cook at your job
warnings: sleazebag frank, age gap (frank is 28 reader is 19), implied sexual content, strong language, unedited writing.
note: i loveeee writing douchebag frank. inspired by @cryobabiess linkcookverse….
the kitchen smells like bacon grease, stale coffee, and something burnt.
frank works the stove like he was born to be behind it. all glinting tattoos in fluorescent lights and expert movements over the grill. he keeps his hair back with a greasy baseball cap and there’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear even though cecelia–your manager–told him to stop smoking in the walk in fridge. you’re not staring.
he smiles at you like he knows something you don’t as he slides a plate your way.
“order up babe. burger and zucchini fries.” it’s always babe with you. or sweetheart. never your name even though you know he knows it.
he’s a grade a douche. he pinches your ass in the walk in, and ogles your tits a little too obviously when you’re on your smoke break. you let him anyway. maybe it’s because you like him better than any of your other coworkers. or because you have a thing for sleazy guys with tattoos.
he makes blatant passes at you, and always reeks of weed, but it’s almost flattering. besides, you’re a sucker for the attention. god you needed to get a grip.
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
the first time you spend the night at his place is also supposed to be the last. and you definitely weren’t supposed to hook up with him.
but it’s raining that night, and he makes you sit and wait for him at one of the booths. he says it’s because he can’t have his angel taking this bus in this weather.
his car smells like pot and cheap cologne and dishwater and mistakes.
it was never supposed to be a thing between you two.
you were nineteen and new to the city. all wide eyed and stupid. he was twenty eight and knew every back alley taco spot in the city that was worth knowing.
he told you all about the bands he almost joined and the fights he definitely won (he didn’t) and it became a routine.
he’d text you a quick ‘you alive?’ after his shifts, and you’d go waltzing through his apartment door like you belonged there.
your hair would smell like coffee, and he’d press you into his mattress just to watch you squirm in one of his band tees.
truthfully you’re not into dating. one too many bad hinge dates had turned you off from that scene for a while. but being with an older guy is fun. he treats you like a princess and you treat it like a game, ignoring the idea that you’re seeing no one else but frank. you’re definitely not attached.
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
you tell yourself it’s casual when he doesn’t even knock at your front door anymore, even though it’s midnight and you shouldn’t have given him the key. you’re not attached, you’re just having fun.
he calls you babe in front of rico, the prep guy, and you beam. it’s not like he ever asked you to be his girlfriend, and you’re way too naïve to ask him what you are anyway. it’s natural the way you slip into something that looks an awful lot like a train wreck k of a relationship.
he lets you pick the music in his shitty sedan (you can’t hear the stereo over the sound of the engine.) he smiled at you from across the kitchen and makes you feel wanted.
you know he’s a loser. really you do. what kinda guy pushing thirty goes for girls your age?
he argues with cecelia about the schedule and still talks about some shitty punk bands that broke up before you were even born. he still wears the same three ratty band tees on rotation.
you know it won’t last forever. one day you’ll wake up and realize there’s someone out there that’s better for you. someone with a couch that doesn’t sag in the middle and a real five year plan.
but you’re nineteen and don’t know any better, and settling down with the idea that frank is enough for you.
there’s no harm in a guy who calls you his girl, and looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room. it’s all you could ever want.
summary: youre not slick…especially not when macklin is in your comment section. its just not in the job description.
warning: reader has a face claim, i don’t know anything about running a radio station, not proofread !
note: shameless plug for music that i like.
liked by ksufradio, user1, user3, and 776 others
youruser meet your host ! i’ll be spinning tunes every tuesday from 6-8pm, so tune into kusf radio <3 first official song of the week is ‘cemetery baby’ off of girl in a coma’s fourth album, ‘exits and all the rest’. it’s a favorite of mine and the album will eternally remind me of my momma. they’re an all girl indie rock band from texas…with word of a new album in the works :0
ksufradio welcome to the team !! cant wait to hear the bangers !
youruser can’t wait to play for you guys !
user1 she looks like she knows ball
youruser⛹️♀️
user2 excited !!!
user3 baddie radio host i WILL be tuning in
friend2 mi baby made it !
friend3 dancing in my living room !!!
youruser💃💃🎶
liked by mackcelebrini, ksufradio, user3, and 832 others
youruser song of the week is…. ‘gentle on my mind’ by glenn campbell ! this 70s country star has a claim to fame with hits like ‘southern nights’ and ‘rhinestone cowboy’, but this track is much softer and sweeter ! nothing like some good ol’ country longing to start off your tuesday !
youruser honorable mention to the roger miller version of this same song as well !
user4 living for all these recommendations
user3 do you have a playlist of all the songs you played today ? such a specific genre run and i loved it
youruser i do ! i always get so nervous playing songs that are out of the mainstream genre but soso happy people liked the broadcast today !
friend3 🤠🤠🤠
user2 macklin celebrini in the likes of an independent college radio broadcaster…
user5 i never thought id live to see the day
user12 maybe it’s a way to drive up engagement ?
user1 it’s not. i have a class with her. she’s giddy and it doesn’t seem like there was an arrangement
user7 get a load of these guys. it’s none of your business
liked by mackcelebrini, thegrinns, user3, and 845 others
youruser song of the week is ‘cynthia’ by the grinns! socal based indie pop band, with four banging albums out, they released their first album ‘golden hour’ in 2018. if you like their sound on cynthia, ride out the hype with ‘joy’ or ‘float away’ ! they’re absolutely amazing live, and i highly recommend checking them out if you ever get the chance !
thegrinns ❤️❤️
youruser !!! love you guys
user2 this is my niche….im scared. whats next…she’s gonna play rangoo ?
youruser queuing them up, i loveee ‘heart out of control’ <3
user4 is this technically three songs of the week ?
mackcelebrini 🔥🔥
youruser sending a recommendation playlist your way 👀
user5 no wayyy.
friend2 shooting her shot in the public comments smh
youruser please shut up
friend3 blessing us with your music
youruser i do what i can to make yall cool
liked by mackcelebrini, friend3, friend4, and 876 others
youruser song of the week is ‘sea of love’ by cat power ! singer chan marshall was born in georgia, and draws from influences like blues, soul, and good ol’ rock and roll. another song that reminds me of momma and sounds to me like meeting for coffee and new beginnings :)
friend1 i spy with my little eye shoes i do not recognize
youruser 😐😐
friend2 i need your location asap
youruser you already have me on life360 😾
friend2 i don’t like your attitude
friend3 who is this
friend3 where do they live
friend3 social security number
youruser jfc i might as well give you his credit card number too…
user3 her friends are so funny
mackcelebrini ☕️ thanks for the cd !
youruser anytime ;))
friend2 oh.
liked by mackcelebrini, friend2, friend3 and 899 others
youruser song of the week is ‘these days’ by dr dog !! my go to road trip song no matter where i’m going or who im going with. if you tune into kusf you won’t hear from me next tuesday as i’ll be in canada (hooray!) but i’ll be back the week after, spinning all the tunes you know and love !
friend1 miss you already 😿
youruser sitting in your dorm posting this🙄
mackcelebrini 🇨🇦🇨🇦
youruser poutine fries are calling my name…
user3 have fun and take pictures !!
user4 anyone else putting two and two together with this canada trip…?
kusfradio we’ll miss your tunes :(
youruser i’ll be back soon !
friend2 take lots of pictures !
youruser 📸📸
liked by friend1, mackcelebrini, friend3, and 954 others
youruser song of the week is…..‘easy girl’ by coconut records ! if you didn’t know, this is an “indie pop solo project” by jason schwartzman ! tap in wes anderson-heads :p moonrise kingdom was on repeat at my house…but fantastic mr fox will always be my favorite movie ever !
friend1 call it love song of the week atp
youruser should i ??? 🥸🥸
friend1 no
mackcelebrini i like this one !
youruser putting you on !! 😁
user2 soft launch on the radio account is killing me
user4 i am connecting dots no one even thought about…
friend3 banger songs banger movies
youruser always !!
liked by mackcelebrini, friend1, friend2, and 998 others
youruser it’s friday i’m in love ! today’s song of the week is ‘each and everyday’ by best coast ! if you liked girl in a coma you’ll love best coast…an indie rock duo from good ol’ los angeles. while currently on hiatus you might know them from the song ‘go away’, done in collaboration with weezer. and as you may have guessed….it’s hard launch season! this song reminds me of summer and now that the days are getting warmer i’ll share it with you all !
user4 oh that’s a macklin…
youruser it is !
friend1 babe…it’s tuesday
youruser i know that silly !
mackcelebrini love this song. and love you
youruser love you more !
youruser putting this song on your mixtape 💋
friend2 so stinking cute
youruser😼😼😽
user2 relationship or not…mama provides with the bangers !
could you go in depth on waitress!reader&linecook!frank like their first hook up
STAY THE NIGHT
frank iero x fem!reader
summary: you spend the night at your sleazy coworkers apartment.
warnings: allusion to sex, douchebag loser frank, age gap (frank is 28 reader is 19), linecookverse, unedited writing.
notes: loveeee pathetic loser douche frank. can be read as a continuation of SLEAZE, or as a standalone
frank was in a bad mood. he’d burnt three blt melts and cussed out cecilia twice and it was barely five o’clock.
it was thursday, and unusually slow for a week day. the kind of slow where you roll and then re-roll napkins just to have something to do.
everyone’s a little restless, and frank is in a mood.
you’re getting the brunt of it.
“table fours been waiting” you call through the pass through window.
“i heard you the first time,” he snaps, not looking up at you.
your hands find their way to your hips and you’re biting back before you can stop yourself. “who do you think you’re talking to like that?”
he’s slamming the spatula down on the counter like it personally wronged him. “you wanna cook it yourself ?”
you raise an eyebrow. “sure. maybe it won’t be as burnt as your last one.”
he’s looking at you like he’s annoyed, but he’s got this glint in his eye that makes you squirm. you are so not into this.
“someone’s real mouthy tonight,” he barks. the rest of the kitchen falls silent.
“you’re dramatic,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.
“you’re trying to piss me off.”
“i’m trying to do my job.”
rico passes you a tray, prepped and ready for your table fours. the kitchen air is awkward as you smile and walk out to the front of house.
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
you ignore him for the rest of your shift. order tickets are passed through rico, and you can hear frank banging pans in the kitchen.
he’s practically vibrating by close. you clock out without looking at him.
it’s just your luck that it’s raining. the bus doesn’t come for another twenty minutes and you’re guaranteed to be soaked through if you start walking now.
franks voice comes from behind you, quiet and softer then you’ve heard it all day.
“you taking the bus,” he asks
“yeah.”
“it’s late.”
“i’ve done it before.”
he shrugs like he’s never wounded your pride in the first place. “i’ll give you a ride.” that makes you scoff. “‘m serious. can’t have a creep takin’ advantage of my angel.”
you consider telling him no. you could always just brave the rain and start walking. but he gives you a look and you sigh. he’s a convincing son of a bitch, you’ll give him that much.
his car is loud. the windows rattle when he accelerated; and the brakes are obviously due for maintenance. you can feel him staring at you as you look out the window.
“you’re ignoring me.” he says finally.
“am not.”
“are too.”
“you’re an asshole” you huff.
“yeah.“
he pulls in front of your apartment, but you don’t get out. not yet.
“wanna come over?” he asks, all casual like. “we can watch something. i’ve got beer.”
you should probably say no. you figure he thinks you’re easy because you’re young and dumb. you should absolutely say no, but you don’t.
“you’re in a bad mood,” you counter.
“not anymore.” he shrugs and your stomach flips. now’s your chance to shut him down.
“fine,” you say instead.
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
his apartment is smaller than you thought it would be. it smells like cigarettes and laundry detergent, and there’s a draft somewhere. he’s got a pile of clothes on an armchair and an ashtray in desperate need of being emptied out.
he tosses you a beer and you sit in the far side of the couch, making sure to leave a thick margin of space between you.
he puts on some dumb horror flick that you’re too nervous to pay attention to, because you’re distracted by the way he’s inching closer.
his knee brushes yours and you don’t move. then his arm stretches behind you and his fingers find their way to your hair.
“you’re still mad at me.” he murmurs.
you take a sip of your beer. “you were being a dick.”
“i was stressed.”
“you’re a jerk.”
he studies you in the flicker of the tv. your heart flickers over itself.
“yeah,” he breaths. you ignore the way his eyes drip to your lips. “but you like it.”
you say nothing at all. you shouldn’t be smiling, but you are and it’s giving you away. his hand slides from the couch to the back of your neck and you freeze. this is real.
“you gonna keep pretending you don’t wanna kiss me?” the way he tilts his head is driving you crazy.
he doesn’t wait for your permission. he’s got you by the chin, kissing you hard on the mouth. it’s teeth and tongue and something that’s been simmering there for months.
you’re not sure when you end up in his lap, but your hands are tangled in his hair, and he’s kissing down your nick like he’s starving,
“you ignored me all night,” he says. lips soft against the too high hickey that you’ll have to cover in the morning.
“you deserved it.”
he smirks, you shiver, and the rest is a blur, it’s messy and impatient. teeth nipping at skin and the couch creaking under the weight of it all.
he kisses you like he argues, sharp, and mean, and like he’s trying to come out winning. you dish it right back.
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
you wake up tangled in sheets that smell like him. for a second you consider sneaking out through the fire escape, but you don’t.
he’s making you breakfast like it’s the most natural thing to do. like this was inevitable.
you tell yourself that this was just a hook up as you sit at the counter in one of his band tees. you swear it’ll never happen again as he slides a plate of eggs in front of you–made just the way you like them.
whatever this was, was a one time thing. a thoughtless mistake that you wouldn’t be making again.
right?
he leans over your shoulder, mouth brushing your ear. “same time tomorrow?” he says it like he already knows the answer.
Hi could you do a frank x fem!reader fluff-angst and its set in the im not okay universe?? Thank you xx
RITUALS
frank iero x fem!reader
summary: frank iero is chaos in the hallways and softness at your lab table. when he decides you deserve better than him, he stops stealing your pencil, and starts breaking your heart instead.
warnings: fluff, angst, unedited writing
note: thank you for the request!
frank iero confused you.
on one hand, he beat up kids in the hallway, hid in lockers, and scared people shitless. he was a menace to the students and faculty of saint cecilias, and the definition of a juvenile delinquent. or at least that’s what everyone said.
frank iero, your chemistry seat partner was nothing like that. he passed you notes and helped you with your geometry homework. he smiled at you, said thank you when you took his chemistry notes for him, and waved at you in the hallways (to your delight and the horror of your friends.
frank iero, known punk and resident player of saint cecilia’s private school confused you and set your stomach alight with butterflies.
he always bumped his knee against yours when he dropped into the seat beside you. not in a rude way, because he was never mean to you, but just enough of a nudge to make you look at him.
“move over,” he’d mutter, even though there was more than enough room for the two of you.
he’d steal your pencil every single class, twirling it between his fingers like it belonged to him. you’d let him use it too, because he’d bat his eyelashes at you in a way that made your face warm. you’d hand him one you kept in your bag just for him.
he would tug lightly at the ends of your hair when you would try to angle your notebook away from him. he’d flick paper balls at you across the table during labs, and nudge your ankle with the toe of his boot when you ignored him.
sometimes he’d lean in close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath brush the shell of your ear.
“hey,” he’d whisper, voice always soft, stripped of the performative hard edge it carried when he talked to his friends. “what’d you get for number three?”
his cologne (heady and intertwined with the smell of cigarettes) would curl into your lungs and make it impossible for you to think straight. you’d pretend to focus on the periodic table while your pulse stumbled over itself.
“you’re smarter than me anyway,” he’d murmur, eyes flicking up to meet yours, all dark lashes and something unreadable beneath them.
frank iero, your lab partner, looked at you like you were something softer. like you were the only person in the world
and maybe that was why you never questioned it — the way his shoulder pressed against yours while you measured chemicals, the way his fingers brushed yours when you both reached for the same beaker, the way he lingered after the bell rang, gathering his things slowly while you packed up too fast.
it felt routine.
it felt harmless.
it felt right.
that meant you noticed when he didn’t bump his knee against yours on tuesday.
he dropped into his chair like always — backpack slung carelessly, chair scraping loud against tile — but his leg stayed firmly on his side of the lab table. you waited for the nudge. his usual careless contact. the familiar pressure against your leg you had gotten used to in the morning, but it never came. you told yourself it was nothing.
on wednesday he brought his own pencil.
it felt like a line in the sand. he didn’t reach for yours. didn’t twirl it. didn't do anything he used to.
during lab, he measured the chemicals himself. he didn’t lean over your shoulder. didn’t murmur for answers. didn’t let his breath ghost warm against your ear. when your fingers brushed reaching for the same beaker, he pulled back first.
“sorry,” he muttered. that’s how you knew something was wrong. frank iero never said sorry.
you tried to talk to him the next day, because maybe acting like everything was okay would make it so. “did you study for this?” you smiled, keeping your voice light, like you weren’t holding yourself together at the seams.
“yeah,” he said, eyes fixed on the page. “it’s not hard.”
And he was right…sort of. it wasn't hard to miss him, even though he was sitting right there.
you had memorized the weight of his knee against yours, and learned the exact tilt of his smile when he was about to steal your pencil. he didn’t stay after the bell rang the way he used to.
you caught him once, staring at you in the hallway. not soft. not teasing the way it used to be. this time it was something tighter. something almost angry. and when your eyes met, he looked away first.
something was wrong.
you saw him after third period had let out, the hallway loud and suffocating and alive. lockers slamming. voices echoing. someone yelling about a quiz. and there he was.frank iero, shoving gerard way into a row of lockers hard enough to make them rattle like he always did. gerard shoved him back, laughing, and frank’s laugh burst out too loud, too bright, all teeth and chaos.
he looked electric. untouchable. like he hadn’t spent the last two days building a careful, invisible wall between you.
he dragged a hand through his hair, grinning at something ray said and kicked at a backpack on the floor just because he could. he was the same hallway frank that everyone expected.that was what made it worse. because he wasn’t quiet, he wasn’t distant, he wasn’t strange, not with them. only with you.
he always looked for you mid-laugh. like he knew where you stood without trying, but this time he didn’t. you stood there, stubborn, until his eyes caught yours, if only for a second. something heavy, guilty flickered there, until he looked away. he laughed again, like it was nothing shoved gerard harder. like he had something to prove.
everyone said frank was a punk. hardcore. more than a little rough around the edges, and after a few weeks you were stating to believe that that was true.
you found him behind the gym after school on thursday, sitting on the concrete steps, elbows on his knees, cigarette unlit between his fingers like he’d forgotten it was there.
“are you mad at me?” you asked. your voice was smaller than you meant it to be. he didn’t look up at first.
“no.” he answered too quick.
you swallowed. “then why are you acting like I did something?” that made him look at you. and god, that was worse. because he didn’t look angry. he looked wrecked.
“you didn’t,” he said, quieter. “that’s the problem.”
you stepped closer, slowly, like he was a stray dog getting ready to bolt. “frank—”
“i thought,” he interrupted, laughing once under his breath, but there was no humor in it. “i thought if i just… pulled back a little, you’d stop.”
“stop what?”
“looking at me like that.”
the confession didn’t come out dramatic. it came out tired.
“like what?” you whispered.
“like i’m not…” he hesitated. jaw tight. “like i’m not the guy everyone says i am.”and there it was, not jealousy, not boredom, but fear.
you moved in front of him fully now. close enough that your knees almost touched.
“ but you’re not,” you reasoned.
he shook his head. “you don’t get it. you’re—” he gestured vaguely at you, frustrated. “you’re good… youre smart. you're gonna get a scholarship and get out of here…”
“and you wont?”
his mouth twitched. “i’m one bad decision away from getting expelled on a good day.”
“frank.”
“i didn’t want you getting dragged into my mess.” his voice broke on the last word, barely noticeable. “so i figured if i just… stopped. you’d be better off.”
There was that ache. the kind that sits in your ribs and doesn’t scream, but just burns its way to your heart.
you reached for him first, cupping his jaw with both hands like he was something breakable.“you don’t get to decide that for me.” he went still under your touch. softer than he ever let himself be in the hallways.“i missed you,” you said.
his composure shattered quietly. he stood too fast, hands finding your waist, then your shoulders, then finally pulling you into him like he needed proof you were real.
the frank iero who had you pushed gently against the wall wasn’t hardcore, or reckless. he was shaking, holding on to you like you would disappear if he let go.
“i’m sorry,” he breathed against your hair. over and over. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”
and when he kissed you, it wasn’t wild. it was desperate in the quietest way, like he was afraid you’d change your mind, like his life depended on it —
you smiled into it.
because the hallway frank might belong to everyone else. but this one, this softer…sweeter version was yours.
summary: he only loves you like he means it when it’s after dark.
warnings: undefined relationships, frank is a douche lowkey, angst with a happy ending, jealousy maybe, mild language, unedited writing
note: set some time in 2011, somewhere along the world contamination tour !
texas looked beautiful in pictures. all blistering sun and the shimmering heat that made your clothes stick to your skin.
your ribs were bruised from the night before where a crowdsurfer tumbled over the barricade and straight onto you. the ache almost made you want to stretch out onto the baking asphalt that trailed between the bus and the skyline
the heat is like a weight bearing down on your shoulders as you wandered through the venue. the show started in three hours and half the crew was working on load in.
anthony green–from circa survive, the opening band– waves you over, doing his best to entice you with a cup of gas station coffee with your name on it.
anthony was doing headstands when you’d met him. he was sweet and he was good, and he made you feel like a person…like you mattered. anthony was comfortable, and sitting in silence or talking up a storm with him, he made you feel cared for.
he sat on one of the amps with you during sound check. flimsy styrofoam cup in one hand and cellphone full of pictures of his wife and kids in another, he asks you about home the way people do when they actually want an answer.
you talk about california like you’ll never see it again. all blue skies and palm trees and burning heatwaves that signal the change into summer. california doesn’t taste of dust like texas does, and you’re homesick for your moms living room. anthony tells you he misses home too, talking about how he misses his wife meridith more than anything. he shows you pictures of his boys and it makes you smile.
anthony talks like he sings. open and full of love. and he listens with understanding. like you’re the only person in the world. it feels good to be listened to in the daylight.
when you’re not melting in the texas heat, you take pictures. actually, the correct way to put it would be that you hide behind your camera lens. it’s easier that way. everything is masked in digital pixels and it’s so much more tolerable.
frank is the one who brought you on this tour as a photographer, all smiles and promises of a good time. most nights he sits beside you in the tour bus and begs to see your pictures, asking you to print him his favorite ones.
now though, standing twenty feet away he’s all motion and buzzing energy. he doesn’t look at you, and when he does it’s never the sweet way he does at night. it makes you queasy
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
the texas sky seems endless after dusk. you never realized how many stars could exist in one place.
frank finds you where he always does, tucked behind the bus with your camera thrown over your shoulder. his hand slips into yours like it’s nothing, and he kisses you like he’s telling you a secret.
“i love you,” he says, and you believe him. even though he makes you feel like shit all the time.
you sleep curled next to him in his bunk that night, and you know the caring way he brushes his thumb against your skin won’t last long.
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
come morning, frank breezes past you like you don’t exist. anthony looks at you in a worried way. almost like he knows how you feel.
“you don’t have to live inside your camera all the time you know. we could do something fun for once.” his idea of fun is going to a texas waffle house at three in the afternoon. as much as you feel like you’re going to die in that waffle house, you have to give anthony props. you did feel alive.
you realize you’re hiding from something, but you don’t have the guts to find out what.
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
the nights show is successful, naturally.
cheap beer and filtered cigarettes are passed around in celebration, and frank finds you behind the bus again.
he kisses you, and you sigh, because your heart is breaking behind your aching ribs. it kills you that he acts the way he does, kissing you at night like you’re the only important thing he has, only to pretend you didn’t share a bed the next morning.
“why do i only exist to you when it’s dark ?” you ask, feeling like you’re about to cry. you only ask because you feel like you can’t take it anymore.
he frowns like he doesn’t understand.
“how come you only say you love me when there’s no one else around frank?”
he sighs like he was waiting for the day you would ask. “you wouldn’t understand. it’s different when you have so much in front of you…when you have so many people invested in every little thing you do.
you pretend to understand, and he continues. “i want something that’s just for me. no one else but me.”
“it’s not fair.” you realize you’re pleading with him. “i don’t think i can do this if you’re going to pretend like i’m not there. i need someone who loves me all the time frank.”
“okay,” is all he says. he squeezes your hand and then disappears back into the texas night.
you think you’re over before you’ve even began. the cicadas are so loud .
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
the sun is brutal, despite it only being mid morning. anthony hands you a water bottle, his knee pressing against yours as he sits.
“you look like you didn’t sleep,” he says. not prying, just kind.
“didn’t,” you answer
he nods like that’s enough. like you don’t owe him explanation.
with anthony it’s easy. it’s siting cross legged on the pavement, and easy laughter, and everything you want with frank (everything you can’t seem to have).
he sits with you until soundcheck, and smiles at you apologetically. you’re alone again.
or only for a moment. frank’s presence scares the shit out of you for a second. the silence scares you more.
“hi,” he says. “i thought about what you said…”
and then he kisses you, and the world keeps moving on. the crew continues the load in, and your heart is full.
“i love you. all the time,” he says, kissing you sweetly. like he means it this time.
waitress!reader&linecook!frank what do we think their future is? i personally like a happy ending but idk if they end up together long term at least would he let her go to explore? would she come back?
LINECOOK FRANK HEADCANNONS
frank iero x reader
warnings: implied sexual content, sleazebag frank, age gap (reader is 19 frank is 28), unedited writing
notes: huge thanks to this request and @number1bulletsenjoyer for getting me back into the linecook groove. i love you sleazy linecook frank. best read as a continuation of SLEAZE and STAY THE NIGHT
- you give cecelia your two weeks notice on a tuesday. she tells you there's always a place for you at the diner. rico overhears and slips you a twenty and gives you a sad look for your next three shifts.
- you won't tell frank that you're leaving for another week. it slips out one night while you're staring up at his ceiling.
- somehow it sparks an argument. you tell him that there's got to be than just working at the diner your whole life. it's not meant to be a dig at him, but it comes out as one. after all he's been working at the same spot for over five years, with no plans of leaving. you sleep with your back to him that night.
- boston hits you in the face. life was moving past the diner. college acceptance letters, student loans, and dorm arrangements mean you have no time to message frank. you finally feel like you're doing something productive with yourself.
-your friends don't like frank. neither does your therapist. they say he's too old for you, that he's a deadbeat, and that he's this and that. part of you thinks they're right. but there's a tiny part of you that can't seem to get him off your mind
- you don't talk to him for almost four months. it hits you in july. you're hooking up with a guy you met on hinge, and you nearly tell him you love him, because you're imagining that he's frank while he kisses you.
- from there you make it a point to reach out. texts slip into phone calls, which becomes you moving his apartment come the next summer break. you settle. youre happy with your decision. happy with choosing frank. maybe, in a few years, you’ll grow up and realize what you've settled for. but for now ignorance is bliss.