Frank Iero x Reader Oneshots

Together no matter what | F.I. x Reader

(A/n)

Requested by frank_ieros_wife

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"What are you thinking about?" Frank asks, grounding me back to reality.

"Eh, my family has been saying some things lately." I adjust myself on my place on the couch, leaning against Frank more comfortably. "I'm afraid they're starting to dislike you. Mainly my father. I don't think he's ever mentally left the nineteenth century."

"Old man needs to chill," Frank sighs, eyebrows knitting together. "'M not a bad guy. I mean, maybe to people who don't understand it, but I don't think dressing punk, skateboarding, invading abandoned places, getting some tattoos or going to concerts is exactly something bad. People are just too annoying. Wish they'd take more care of their own lives."

"Worst thing is that they know you. It's not like I'm suddenly friends with a weird person or whatever." I glance at Frank and he groans, burying his back in my shoulder; I press a kiss to his head, my arms around him.

"'Don't wanna lose you, fuck off," he groans, hugging me tigthly. "You're my longest lasting friendship, not to mention you know way too much. I'll have to shoot you down and do you know how much I'd hate to do that?" A second of silence follows before the two of us burst out laughing, a light mood that doesn't last long before the depressive pressure that already bothers us since I arrived at Frank's place.

"But the feeling is mutual." I nuzzle him softly.

"I know," Frank jokes. "We can always run away, y'know..." His finger runs along my forearm, feigned absentmindedly. "We have everything we'd need."

I shake my head; it's not true nor as easy as he makes it sound. "We'll be fine." I sigh softly and let my cheek rest against the top of his head, tapping his side lightly.

.

Hearing these words feels like I'm being swept off my feet or simply unexpectedly fallen into a bottomless pit. I stare at my father, trying to look for anything that tells me he's actually joking, anything, refusing to believe it even after I notice there's nothing but sternness. "You," I breathe, chuckling humorlessly, "you can't be serious."

"You can't be serious that you still want to hang out with that guy." My father doesn't even bother looking up from the newspaper, having stopped me the moment I walked into the house. "Do you remember the grafitti down the street? He was responsible for it. Not to mention his popularity with drugs and alcohol and all these delinquents around this city." He twists his mouth, shaking his head to himself as flipping the page.

Drugs and alcohol do not imply someone is a bad person... I refrain myself from voicing my thoughts, deciding I do not want to worsen the situation. Not to mention that Gerard, Mikey, Bert, Jeph, and whoever, aren't delinquents. This is so wrong.

"But–"

"But nothing." He finally turns to me, eyes serious, almost inexpressive at the same time. "You know it takes forever to build a reputation, but it may take five seconds to ruin it. Either you do this or you're not part of the family anymore and you know you've got a relative in the police department. Frank can't get away with these all the time."

Of course he wants a perfect family, not meaning the cost. Flawless, impeccable, impossible. All I'm able to do is to show him a forced smile before making my way upstairs, heart heavy in my chest.

"Don't you forget I always know what's happening to you," he calls.

I stop in my tracks, staring at the painting of a farm hanging on the wall and suddenly it's not so nice anymore. Hell, I'd like to know how he does it. Sometimes I'm across the city with my friends and he already knows it before I'm home – sometimes I hate how notable the family can be. Maybe, then, I wouldn't have to deal with keeping the reputation of the family or anything.