#realized i forgot to put a readmore lol my apologies

[pettyprocrastination]

Idle Hands

Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

My secret Santa gift for the ever lovely @floralpascal I do hope this follows your prompt well and that you enjoy it! Big thank you to @humanransome-note for being my editor+beta reader on this one at like 1 am lol. Also a huge thank you to @pedrostories for putting together this amazing event to begin with!!! <3

Summary: Frankie goes to you when he needs his clothes altered and each time has a revelation each time he sees you work. 

Warnings: fluff, light self doubt, lots of talk about hands I just really like hands okay. Friends to lovers babeyyyy

word count: 1.2k

________

     Frankie’s clothes never fit him right. 

     The sleeves of shirts hung just a touch too long on him, but going a size under meant they’d squeeze around the bulk of his shoulders in a way that made him worry it would tear (it did. On a first date, it was very embarrassing for him). Trousers either gaped at his waist or had to be rolled up at the cuff because they were made for somebody taller, not wider to properly fit his legs. 

     But he didn’t complain, it gave him a reason to see you. 

     “It’s because clothes used to be made for the body specifically.” You told him, needle in hand as you sat at a table and pushed it through the cuff of his pants. “Everything was tailor made to your measurements, but nowadays we just buy off the rack and hope it fits right.” 

     “Or we take it to our incredibly talented friend who hems our pants in return for dinner?” 

     Sometimes he hopes they don’t fit right, just so he can see you smile. 

     “Yeah, that’s always an option too.” 

     His mother has always told him that love was found in one’s hands. Holding the door open, taking their hand in yours when you crossed the street, the gentle cradling of their face when leaning in for a gentle kiss, it was everything. Small testimonies of love and care found in everyday moments that took root in the palms of a lover. 

     But Francisco's hands were scarred. His fingers were calloused from hard labor and would tremble until he curled them into fists and willed them to stop. They sweat horribly when he would get nervous, leading to him shoving his hands in his pockets and praying you never noticed. 

     If you did, you said nothing of it. 

     But his hands weren’t good for nothing, despite the fact he considered them too rough for handling gentle things like you and the way his fingers fumbled with his keys, he was still skilled. 

     It was his hands that put in the new lock on your door after a series of break-ins took place in your neighborhood. The same fingers that fumbled with your birthday present are nimble and quick with the screwdriver in hand as he reassures you that it’ll be alright. They're the same ones that held you the night you got stood up for a date and wiped the tears from your face as he told you any man who can’t show up for you isn’t worth your fucking time. The same hand that settles on the small of your back each time you walk through a crowd together, the gentle reminder of his presence when you felt everything else closing in. 

     I’m here. You're safe. 

     “These are new.”      “I’m sorry?” 

     You lift your head from your work table and hold up the pair of slacks in your hand he had brought for you to hem. All black with a fine finish, something you’d wear to a wedding. 

     The same pair he stared at in the store for fifteen minutes before finally biting the bullet.

     “The pants, I’ve never seen you wear them before.” 

     His hands curl, thumb pressing against the flat of his pointing finger until he hears a soft “pop” from the joint and moves to the next in hopes to keep his mind off the fact that your thumb is running along the inseam of one pant leg, a gentle back and forth, back and forth, that he’s not sure you even know you're doing it, but it's enough to make his lungs feel tight and head full of cotton. 

     “Right, they're uh, they're new.” 

     Middle finger. 

     Pop. 

     Ring finger. 

     Pop. 

     Pinkie. 

     Pop. 

     “They're real nice.” 

     “You think so?” 

     “You’ll look real sharp in those, Frankie. You got something special coming up?” You look beautiful. Your eyes are focused on your hands that weave the needle in and out of the fabric with such ease it reminds him of a conductor. There's something about it. The way your arm moves up and down, the gentle flick of your wrist when it pulls the needle through. Each separate movement that melts into one another like a connected dance. Maybe Frankie was just reading too much into it. Maybe it had just been far too fucking long since he went on a date and he was so starved he got to the point of romanticizing tailoring. Maybe he just really liked your hands. 

     Maybe, he just really liked you. 

     “Nothing in particular.” 

     You snip the end of the thread, tying it with quick flitting fingers before smiling at him over your shoulder. 

     “Well let me know when you do, I’d like to see you get all fancy.” 

     He scratches at the back of his neck. 

     “You just want a reason to get me out of my work clothes.” 

     There's a moment in every hug from Francisco Morales. From the moment you first met him to years later you can name it down to the very second it happens. A split second before he pulls away from you where his hand settles on your waist and curls in ever so slightly, squeezing you to his chest so softly that by the time you notice he’s already pulling away and telling you “have a good one.”

     It’s the moment you want to continue. For his hands to stay on your waist and keep him flush to your chest, where you’d finally find the bravery to mumble out those words you’ve kept locked away for the past four years because you don’t know what you’d do after there or. Or what he’d do. Christ, you don’t want to imagine it. 

     So instead you bite your tongue. You hold back the confession that’s been nested in the crevice of your ribs since you first met him and savor the feeling of his hands on your waist and the little “mmm.” he does every time you give him a hug that just makes you feel lightheaded.

     He’s halfway down the driveway when he stops in his tracks. Snipping something under his breath to himself before turning on his heel and pointing at you. 

     “Are you uh, are you free? This Friday?” 

     His hands were shaking. 

     “Yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” 

    So were yours. 

     “I was thinking we could get dinner. It’ll give me a reason to wear these, you know?”  He holds up the pair of pants in his hands and smiles. “Plus, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for a long time. I only have so many clothes for you to fix.” 

     Francisco learned that his hands were full of love. 

     His hands could pull out your chair, pour you wine with a steady grasp. They’ll gesture during conversation that seemed to last for hours and drape his coat around your shoulders in the night air.  Cradle your face when he kissed you goodnight and grip your waist when you pulled him in for another. They could hold you together and pull you apart all in the same night. 

     You saw the trembles in his fingertips without shame. Your lips pressed kiss after kiss to the rough skin of his palm without flinching and wrapped your hands with his each time you saw the world closing in on him, refusing to let go or be pushed away. 

     You saw his hands for what they were. An extension of the man they belonged to. One with scars and tremors that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to hide them. 

     But you held him nonetheless.

#francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #catfish morales x reader #i know it isnt very long but i hope you liked it!! i tried to get all poetic without it becoming a wordy snowball of a ramble. #i like putting sewing into my stories can you tell im projecting lol #realized i forgot to put a readmore lol my apologies

[nocontexttmbg]

PLS let’s discuss the spine. it is absolutely in my top tmbg albums and i’d like to hear ur thoughts!!

YESSS the spine is SO GOOD

(also preemptively apologizing bc im getting ready for an interview/half awake/on mobile so... long paragraphs but no readmore)

so like. largely it is gonna be personal bias bc it was one of the few albums i listened to at the time (besides mink car, flood, no! & here come the abc's) so ill get that out of the way. got good memories sitting in my dads old suburban and flipping through the cd case :'') i never paid attention to the song names when i was that young but i LOVED museum of idiots (and still do!!!) and if my dad wasnt also the same with playing albums over and over until he found a different one, then i woulda drove him nuts lol (and i was just reminded i used to redraw the album cover in my spare time, even with my still-developing skills)

its the one album where for the longest time i only didnt hear two songs (bastard wants to hit me & i cant hide from my mind) bc my dad skipped over them, and idr if they ended up being on my mp3 player or not. i think he just wasnt a huge fan of the latter but the former is understandable given its title

ITS A LEGIT GOOD ALBUM THOUGH just like mink car i strongly associate it w the sound in general of the year of its release. its VERY 2004. similar enough to mink car for young me to swallow but different enough so it was fresh and fun!! and thats what a lot of the tracks on this album felt- fun. i didnt even read the lyrics sheet for it's kickin' in until two days ago and GOD what a shift.

fav vocals? EASILY museum of idiots/it's kickin' in/i can't hide from my mind. also totally dig the fake autotune in bastard wants to hit me, i know ppl think of it as an annoying early 2000s trend, but it was one of my favorite stylistic moments tbh and fit really well with the song. (also when i first heard see the constellation i thought it was related to it's kickin' in bc not only did flans sing both, but the stylings sounded super similar to me.. kinda like how i brought together she's actual size and hotel detective lol) I ALMOST FORGOT AU CONTRAIRE OH GOD LINNELL PROBABLY PEAKED WITH THAT SONG LIKE.... GOD

fav instrumentals are easy too- damn good times, bastard wants to hit me & broke in two. i meme bastard so hard but like... unironically love it during the chorus, and when u hear the few horns... AUGH it hits. also it's kickin' in again just because. those opening drums. the contrast to the lyrics, but how they meld so perfect w flans' voice.

also spine/spines are my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE short songs.. minimum wage is pretty close but these two are tied for that spot.

and im just realizing as i was struggling to avoid putting too many linnell songs in the factory showroom ask, i just completely gave in to the flans songs on here.

anyway yeah like i said i just listen to music bc i enjoy noise in my ears, so its hard to definitively pick a favorite overall album, but if i absolutely had to then the spine/factory showroom tie for #1- mostly for listenability, and this one's only slightly higher bc sentimental value. :)

#response #johnlinnell #loud text - #long post - #swearing - #THANKS 4 SENDING BTW..... u and factory showroom anon..... the spine is rly rly good #im glad yall seem 2 b enjoying these lol it feels weird bc ppl usually have indepth explanations why they like things #and im like. yeah im autistic yeah i overshare and consume things on a massive scale for the free serotonin #this is when it would b good to broadcast thoughts bc i swear theyre more complex than ''flans guitar good. museum of idiots 30 times a day'