hii ! idk if you're still taking requests, but i keep coming back to The Light I Come Home To cause it's just so sweet :( could you write something about frank meeting readers family for the first time and it's awkward and he's really embarrassed and the reader would be laughing at how embarrassed/shy he looks around their parents or something like that? love and miss ur writing ♡
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Summary: Frank could handle many things. life on the road, show mishaps, you name it. but meeting your parents? now that that was his kryptonite.
1.1k words| this is REALLY short and tbh I felt like it was really rushed but I digress.
Frank had played in front of thousands, had dealt with broken bones and guitar strings and the utter chaos of the rock n’ roll lifestyle, but none of that compared to the creeping dread settling in his chest as he stood on your front porch. He stared at the door, clutching a small gift bag in one hand and nervously tugging at his jeans with the other.
“This is a bad idea,” he muttered, barely glancing at you.
You huffed a quiet laugh, reaching out to knock on the door before he could act on it. “You’ve handled worse.”
“Not your parents,” he said quickly, panic sinking in as the door opened.
Your mom greeted you warmly, and Frank straightened instantly, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. He rushed to hand over the gift bag, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain it, turning red halfway through his sentence.
You gently touched his wrist to ground him, and he quieted, offering a sheepish, apologetic smile instead.
From the moment he stepped inside, it was clear your house wasn’t going to give him a calm, easy introduction. Your sibling spotted him almost immediately and grinned in a way that made his shoulders tense. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, but he was already visibly flustered, trying to keep up with everything happening around him.
Dinner started off deceptively normal. Frank sat beside you with perfect posture, answering your parents’ questions carefully, as each response mattered more than any chord ever could.
He spoke thoughtfully about music, touring, and his plans, clearly trying to present the best version of himself. You nudged his knee under the table at one point, mouthing that he was doing fine, and he nodded, though his grip on his fork betrayed his nerves.
Then, in the middle of reaching for his drink, everything went wrong.
Your sibling shifted suddenly, bumping the table just enough to tip his glass, and before he could react, cold water spilled straight into his lap.
Time stood still as he stared down in horror, before immediately scrambling for napkins and somehow making the situation worse in his panic. His face flushed a deep red as apologies tumbled out of him, each one more flustered than the last.
You tried not to laugh, you really did, but the situation, combined with how genuinely distressed he looked, made it almost impossible. Still, you leaned in to help, your voice soft as you reassured him it was just water, that it didn’t matter. He leaned closer to you, whispering that he was failing horribly, and you shook your head, smiling gently as you told him he was just being human, but he didn’t seem convinced.
Unfortunately for Frank, the chaos didn’t end there.
When he tried to help clear the table, he nearly dropped a plate, catching it at the last second with a startled expression.
When he complimented your mom’s cooking, he stumbled over his words so badly he had to restart twice, growing more embarrassed each time.
At one point, he accidentally called your dad “sir,” then immediately tried to correct himself, only digging himself deeper into a hole of pure awkwardness.
Through it all, you stayed close to his side, offering quiet reassurances—a hand squeeze under the table, a soft smile when he glanced your way, a gentle nudge to keep him grounded.
Each time, he looked at you like you were a worried puppy, and as much as you hated to see him so frazzled, it was just too adorable.
As the night continued, your sibling cornered the two of you in the living room.
They asked him about his intentions, and while you groaned at the predictability of it, Frank froze completely. He looked at you for help, and when you gave him a small, encouraging smile, he tried to answer.
What came out wasn’t polished or rehearsed, but it was honest—he admitted, a little nervously, that he cared about you a lot.
The vibe in the room shifted immediately. Even your sibling softened slightly, clearly not expecting that level of sincerity.
Frank, realizing what he’d just said, flushed red again, looking like he wished he could take it back—not because he didn’t mean it, but because of how exposed it made him feel.
You, on the other hand, felt something warm settle in your chest.
When all was said and done and the night had finally come to an end, Frank felt a moment of relief. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply, trying to shake off the entire evening.
“I think that was the most stressful night of my life,” he admitted, his voice still carrying a hint of disbelief.
You smiled, leaning against him. “You made it through.”
“Barely,” he said, hesitating before looking at you again, uncertainty creeping back in. “Be honest… that was bad, wasn’t it?”
You tilted your head, listening as he listed everything that had gone wrong—the spilled water, the awkward answers, accidentally calling your dad “sir.”
“You were nervous, babe,” you said softly. “Because you care.”
He frowned slightly, like he didn’t see how that helped. “And they saw that,” you continued. “You didn’t need to be perfect. You just needed to be you.”
“That’s what worries me,” he admitted quietly.
You laughed under your breath, stepping closer and gently cupping his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “They liked you, Frank,” you said simply. He blinked, surprised. “You really think so?”
“Yeah. My mom thought you were sweet, my dad respected you, and my sibling didn’t scare you off, which is basically approval.”
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him as he looked down, shaking his head. “I thought I completely blew it.”
“You did,” you teased lightly, watching his eyes widen before softening your tone. “But it was adorable.”
That seemed to settle his nerves. The tension in his shoulders eased, and when he looked back at you, there was something softer there, something more like himself. “You really think so?” he asked.
For a moment, neither of you moved, just letting the night air wash over you. Then he leaned in, resting his forehead gently against yours, his voice quieter now, stripped of the earlier panic.
He kissed you softly, unhurried, and when he pulled back, he looked eased, as the weight of the evening had finally lifted.
“Next time, I’m bringing a towel. Just in case,” he added, a hint of humor returning only to Frank could have.
You laughed, leaning into him again. “Next time will be easier.”
He laced his fingers with yours, holding onto you a little tighter.
And this time, there was no hesitation in his voice at all.
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