Okay but… what do you think is something Frankie absolutely hates ? May it be food or a character trait or something?
Girl Dad | Frankie Morales Blurb
Warnings: Mentions of Drinking/Alcohol, Mentions of High Risk Pregnancy, Family Drama, Fluff, No Smut, No Use of Y/N for Reader Insert
Words: 690
A/N: Ty anon for this prompt! I enjoyed writing about #girldad Frankie and hope you enjoy it! I'm happy to try out any other submissions I receive, though I've only ever written for Frankie Morales, Din Djarin, and Whiskey so beware if you submit for anyone else! Love you all and happy #FrankieFriday.😍🥰
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If there’s one thing that Frankie hates, it’s people who assume.
He didn’t realize how much other people's perception of him pissed him off until his first daughter, Ximena, was born.
She was more perfect than he’d ever thought possible. She was so tiny, so fragile, but so strong, he could see it in her eyes.
He was so proud. Before becoming a dad, he didn’t know you could be proud of someone so small. Which is exactly why it pissed him off when his family came to visit for the holidays and his cousin Marty apologized to him, “Sorry about - you know” as he gestured with the drink in his hand to Ximena being held by you, his partner.
“What?” Frankie questioned, unsure of what he was referring to.
“I jus’ figured you were hoping for a son., always said you wanted a Frankie Jr.” He’d placed his hand on Frankie’s shoulder sympathetically.
Frankie let his anger boil quietly within his head for a moment as he kept his gaze on you as you swayed slowly. He couldn’t even begin to explain the fear, the anxiety, the mental turmoil he’d gone through preparing for Ximena to be born. Not to mention, the high risk pregnancy you’d endured while you both spent every second hoping you’d come home with a healthy baby by the end of it. Whether Marty knew the whole story or not, it pissed him off to bring up something that he didn't think he’d said since they were kids.
“A healthy baby is enough for me.” He replied, taking a sip from his beer to keep himself from saying anymore.
“Everyone says that shit and you know it, nobody wants a daughter except these women, they just want to use ‘em against us or some shit.” Marty scoffed as he stood from the shared area they’d been sitting on the fireplace.
Frankie jumped up next to him before he could think of what to do next. He grabbed the collar of Marty’s shirt, causing him to drop his beer bottle and catch himself on the fireplace, now behind them.
The loud sound of glass shattering was enough to startle Ximena, her wails instantly filling the room.
Frankie instinctively turned to her, watching her fight within your grasp as her upset took over.
“You need to leave.” Frankie spoke sternly as he released Marty from his gasp.
“Chill the fuck out, primo. Fuck man, what’s gotten into you?” Marty adjusted his shirt as his boots crunched on the glass beneath him.
“You either figure out how to respect my family, my daughter, or you get the hell out of my house.” His hands were on his hips now, a clear sign of his frustration mixing with his lack of patience.
Marty removed himself from the space between Frankie and the fireplace, fearing what would happen if he didn’t. Before becoming a dad, Frankie would have reminded Marty that he’s always been able to kick his ass, and he would have proved it to still be true. Instead, the cries of his six month old daughter made the anger in his heart dilute, leaving nothing but a man wanting to be worthy of her love.
He glared at Marty angrily as he shuffled into a group of their older cousins, hoping he’d choose to leave for his own sake.
He couldn’t let the best thing that had ever happened to him be reduced to an apology.
Ximena continued to cry, unhappy with your pleas for silence as you rocked and shushed her. He was by your side in a couple quick steps, scooping her from your arms.
“Come here, chiquita, it’s okay, daddy’s got you.” He rocked her gently next to you, her wails quieting with each passing second in his arms.
You knew that whatever had happened between Frankie and Marty was something of the past now, his entire being solely devoted to the tiny human in his arms.
“I always knew you’d be a good girl dad,” You reassured him as she fell silent, “She’s wrapped around your finger, baby.”
Tagging @berryispunk even though she has no idea who I am cause I am in love with her Frankies! (Let me know if you want out Berry!)
HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY!!!
You finally took a step back from the dining table, your eyes running over the dishes in massive foil containers covering the entirety of the eight top. Potato salad, Caesar salad, corn and carrots in butter and herbs, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, mac and cheese, six whole racks of ribs, chicken wings, fried chicken, peach cobbler, a variety of sandwiches, that trifle Sarah couldn’t live without, and of course, your specialty, the lasagna.
Joel and Sarah were out getting drinks, ice cream and ice. Your whole body was hurting. You’d been cooking since 4 am, Maria coming over to help you sometime around noon, some emergency with a client she had to deal with. Joel and Tommy manned the grill as you cooked up a storm.
Joel and Tommy were hosting a picnic in the park for July 4th, all their staff, crew and family were invited. You were excited, you hadn’t met any of them. Joel didn’t really mix family and work together. This would be the first time. He came home a few weeks ago and told you about it, and you had spent the last week shopping for ingredients and preparing for the day. You wanted to make a good impression.
You were also particularly elated at the prospect of it all – he was finally including you in his social life. After six years together, he had trusted you to organize this for him. He was finally taking the next step with you. After six years of being the one who took care of everything in his household, six years of not being seen in public as his partner, he was finally including you.
You bought a new dress for the occasion, new comfy shoes, a new hat, sunglasses, God, you were excited. Your Mom was happy for you, giving you and extra long hug that morning as she was leaving for her trip with some of the neighbourhood ladies.
“Okay, it’s time to go, let’s start loading up!” Tommy came into the dining room as you and Maria covered everything up. You placed the smaller containers with the sauces and gravies in a big Ikea bag before helping Tommy load everything onto the bed of his truck, telling you Joel’s got the coolers for the ice cream and the drinks. He looked at his watch as you handed him the last of the food, telling you to go get ready, Joel and Sarah should be back soon to pick you up, the food taking up all the space in his truck.
You went into the kitchen and wiped everything down before locking up and going next door to your own house, taking a quick shower and putting on your new dress. You put some light make up on and texted Joel and Sarah, telling them you were ready.
And then you waited. And waited. And waited.
You called, you texted, but there was no answer. Maria texted you, asking where you were. You didn’t even have the heart to answer. You didn’t want her to cause a scene at the company picnic.
You finally fell asleep after two hours of waiting, tired out from your hard work.
It wasn’t until the light from his truck shone into your window as he and Sarah got home that night, waking you up from the couch, still in the dress you’d put on for the picnic, that you finally accepted the fact that you had been far too delusional for your own good.
They got out of the truck, Joel unloaded the coolers and shut the door behind him.
He didn’t even come to see you. You checked your phone. No calls while you were asleep. No texts, nothing.
It was as if he had never planned to have you there.
You scoffed at yourself then. Silly, really. Come to think of it, he never said you were invited. He never even asked you to prepare anything. You just assumed he did. You fucking volunteered. He didn’t even help you, leaving you to cook all day long while he and Tommy grilled outside, standing around not doing much aside from turning the meat and marinating them as they went along every few minutes. You got all in your own head and acted out of your own delusional excitement. Played the little housewife to please him as you always did, wanting to prove yourself to him, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would finally see you, finally declare his love for you.
You didn’t even get to eat the feast you’d spent the entire day cooking.
It's dumb. Really. So dumb.
What were you expecting? That he would parade you around, holding your hand and kissing you, showing you off to everyone, introducing you as the love of his life? And then what? Magically propose to you? Marry you? Have babies with you?
He hadn’t done it in 6 years. What the fuck made you think he would do it now?
Pathetic.
And then, as if you were a glutton for punishment, the next morning, you went over and made them breakfast as you always did. That picnic was never mentioned again.
One day. One day he will realize his feelings for you. You just need to try harder.
***
Frankie helped you and your Mom out of the truck, going to the back to get the foldable trolley your Mom had brought along. He and Henry unloaded the food onto the trolley, Frankie immediately taking your hand in his left hand, his right pulling the trolley laden with your specialty, the lasagna behind the two of you.
You were nervous. This was the first time you would be meeting his friends and co workers aside from the guys since the company was set up. The two of you had been married for just under two months, having dated for 8 months before that. The relationship moved at warp speed, you felt. You practically moved in with him after the first date, said yes to him after two months, and married him six months later.
The ladies came swarming you and your Mom with hugs, the men taking the food to add to the already groaning table. Frankie had tried to tell you that they were ordering the food, there was no need to cook. He didn’t want to trouble you. You were working a bit too hard, he didn’t want you overtiring yourself. Plus, he didn’t want people asking for that amazing lasagna of your every time there was a gathering like this. He didn’t like the idea that you might have to work extra hard for his work events. But you wanted to do it, you wanted to make a good impression.
He had helped you make them, woke up early with you to help you with everything. No, baby, let me knead the dough and roll them out. No, I will peel the tomatoes. I’ll grate the cheese baby. Go shower baby, I’ll clean up. No, let me carry that, you go wait in the truck.
He left you for a while with the ladies as he and the guys manned the grill. The four of you, along with your Mom and Anna made sure the food was arranged, the drinks ready, the paper plates and cups available. You were determined to make this small barbecue amazing. You were the wife of one of the owners, you wanted him to be proud of you.
In truth, you were worried. Frankie’s treatment of you had been too good to be true. A complete opposite to Joel. And as much as you now believed that Joel’s actions were the results of him being an emotionally constipated man, a small part of you still, sometimes, wondered if it was you. If the decisions he made was because of you, something you didn’t realize you did, perhaps? Perhaps he had been embarrassed of you, or that you were simply not good enough to introduce to others.
If that were the case, you didn’t want Frankie to think that maybe Joel was right. That you were simply not suitable to be included in his social life.
So, yeah, you were worried.
When people started arriving, Frankie came to get you, taking your waist in his arm, immediately introducing you to his co workers and friends, hands never leaving your person. The two of you might as well be glued together.
“This is my wife, Emma,” he proudly introduced, a beaming smile on his face.
“My wife made that lasagna, isn’t it amazing?”
“Next Sunday? I’ll check with my wife.”
“My wife and I are watching this new series on the Netflix. Thank God for her, I would have binged the whole thing in one night if not for her.”
“Oh, you should talk to my wife, she’s a web designer. An amazing one at that.”
“Thank you, I like it too. My wife picked it out. I would’ve shown up in a two-day shirt if not for her.”
You felt as if you were living in a dream. This was alien to you.
Here was this man who you’d only met less than a year ago, who practically imprinted on you and locked you down as soon as he could, showing you off to everyone he knew, talking about you as if you were the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him. A man who worried so much for your well-being he didn’t even want you to lift a finger for his sake, who was so proud of being with you he wanted to shout that fact to the world, hands always on you as if worried you would float away into the sky.
A man who, when a song started playing, pulled you into his arms and danced with you in the middle of the park, uncaring that people were watching, kissing you with all his might. A man, who came running to get you because he saw a cloud shaped like a tulip. A man who blushed when teased for loving his wife so much he couldn’t be separated from her longer than five minutes at a time, his eyes immediately finding you in the crowd, smiling smugly when he saw the wedding band he placed on your finger glinting in the sun.
A man who made you feel loved. Important. More than enough.
“Hey baby,” you heard his voice call out softly, his arms wrapping around your waist, his lips finding that spot under your ear that made you swoon. “You had enough to eat? Can I get you anything?”
“I’m okay,” you said, turning in his arms, lacing your fingers behind his neck. “Do you need anything?”
“Just you. I want to show you something. Come on,” he said, pecking your lips and taking your hand in his. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He guided you to the pond, sitting down on one of the benches there, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Look,” he said, pointing with his eyes.
A duck was swimming in the pond, a gaggle of ducklings following behind, making all kinds of noises.
Your face immediately lit up, cooing from the cuteness of it all.
The mother duck changed direction, and the ducklings scrambled to follow. The duck changed direction again, more scrambling followed.
“Do you think she did that on purpose? Is she annoyed, do you think?” he asked, laughing.
“Nah,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. “She’s trying to make them work harder, maybe swim stronger. She’s a mom, she loves her babies.”
Frankie’s lips landed on you head, “I want one,” he mumbled after a few seconds of silence.
“What, a duckling?”
He huffed a laughter with his lips still on your head, warming the top of your head with his breath. “No, baby. I want a baby, with you.”
You lifted your head, your eyes finding his. You searched them for humour and found none. Just honestly. Want. Love.
“Really?” you asked, still unable to believe what you were hearing.
“Really. I love you baby, I want a whole life with you. I want babies with you. Lots of them.”
You laughed, your heart feeling so full you worried it might burst.
“Let’s start with one, and then we’ll see, okay?” you told him.
“Really? You’re okay with that?”
“Yeah, really.”
He kissed you, deep and true, trailing kisses all over your face, ending with one on your nose, his face the definition of happiness. “So, we’re gonna try for a baby?”
