Frankie X Mouse - Tumblr Posts

MY HEART!!!!! Tater 😭❤️😭❤️

And Baby Catfish Makes Three feat. Frankie Morales x Mouse (f!reader)

a HeftyThrowaway one shot drabble | Rated: PG-13 | word count: 855 warnings: Child birth, labor, pain, families - if you see that I missed anything, let me know!

A/N: finally! @xdaddysprincessxx put it, Mouse was beginning to pull a Bonnie from Family Guy with how long she was pregnant. Thank you to @thehalflifeofloveisforever for reviewing this ages ago, and for @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for reviewing it in the present day.

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The last centimeter was taking forever and was the most pain you’d ever experienced in your life. Frankie was now sitting in the bed with you leaned back between his legs, your back to his chest. You needed him like this, cocooning you with his large body, trying in the softest and sweetest ways to be your support. One hand was wiping your forehead and the other was being squeezed by the uncharacteristically strong grip of your own.

“Breathe, mama… you’re so close…”, he whispered encouragement while planting kisses on your sweaty hair.

You tried to breathe in the rhythm that you’d learned in lamaze, but it was near impossible with how much pressure and pain you felt. 

“Doing so good, Mouse.”

*****

Hours went by and you felt like this would never end. Your mind was clouded and you had no idea how much time had gone by, you were now fully enveloped in your labor.  The people in the hallway passing your room talking or machines making any noise around you were not even registering anymore. 

You felt an immense pressure and all those books that said you would just know when to push were right. 

“I feel like… I have to push… Frankie… please… I have to push….”, you mumbled, trying to sit up.

If you could have seen Frankie’s face when he heard you, you would have thought he’d won the lottery and watched a chicken get beheaded - both fear and excitement meshed and his heart just about leapt from his chest.  He unwedged himself from behind you clumsily and pressed the call button. Almost instantly, a nurse with the name badge reading ‘Sherri’ came in hurriedly and smiled.

“I heard! It’s go time!”, she cheered far too enthusiastically for your liking at the moment. She checked you and hailed the doctor to come quickly. 

Frankie moved to the side of the bed, as instructed by Sherri and stood by your side, holding one of your legs up, while Sherri held the other. The doctor arrived and got in place at the end of the bed. 

*****

You’d been pushing for nearly an hour and you felt like you were going to pass out. “I… I can’t!”, you panted and wailed, looking up at Frankie, eyes pleading with him. “I can’t do this… I… please! Frankie… please let me stop!”

“Mama, you’re doing it right now. You gotta keep pushing.”, he murmured back, pressing a kiss to your sweaty hairline. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eye as you were giving birth to his baby. He felt like the world’s biggest asshole.  “I know you can do it… come on, baby… keep pushing.”, he tried to keep his voice calm, but your pleading and cries for him were breaking his heart, causing a lump in his throat.

*****

Frankie counted to ten for every push and in between he pressed his mouth to your temple and whispered more words of encouragement while you panted and pleaded for this to be over. You turned to look him in the eyes and he smiled, leaned down and kissed you.

“Come on, mama.”, he whispered against your mouth.

“One more push… go!”, the doctor announced.

You gathered up all your strength and bore down as hard as you could, crying out as you did. Then you heard it. That perfect, beautiful, anguished noise. 

You heard her.

Someone, you weren’t sure who, announced that it was a girl. Your girl. She was placed on your chest, and Frankie broke down, sobbing into your hair sweet thank you’s and I love you’s.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your little squalling, angry baby. The world stopped as you looked down at her and your heart broke and repaired itself a million times before you even could let the first tear drop fall. There she was. Every panic attack, every sleepless night, every pain, every sorrow, every moment of self-doubt was all worth it because she was here.

Through your tears, you managed to coo, “Hey Matilda… I’m your Mama.”

*****

Matilda Maria Ariidae Morales, also known as Taters, was everything and more that you and Frankie could hope for. It didn’t even register for you how much Frankie had missed out on bonding with Taters being that she was inside you for nine months, and now that Taters was out, he took every chance he could get to cuddle, snuggle, feed, change and bathe his sweet girl. Frankie truly took to being a dad like a fish to water, and you loved him all the more for it. Her first six weeks home were chaotic and calm, with little to no sleep juxtaposed to perfect moments. More often than not, her afternoon nap was on her daddy’s chest while he dozed on the recliner in the den, watching tv - just like you’d imagined and hoped. 

Both of you had agreed that Will and Hannah were the perfect candidates to be Taters’ godparents, and while both of them cried when asked, agreeing to fulfill the honor, Will was utterly inconsolable as he held his god daughter for pictures. 

--------<3---------

The Ariidae or ariid catfish are a family of catfish that mainly live in marine waters with many freshwater and brackish water species. They are found worldwide in tropical to warm temperate zones. The family includes about 143 species.

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Even though it hurts, this is absolutely beautiful! 😭❤️

... And Nowhere to Hide feat. Frankie Morales & f!reader

Summary: An alternate ending to All Pent Up & No Where to Go in which Frankie really blows it. To find out where this all started, start with that fic.

Pairing: Frankie & Mouse | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,190

PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING Content Warnings: could be viewed as DDDNE, toxic relationship, alcoholism, broken relationship, domestic violence [not overt but could be viewed as such], hurt, drunk driving [don't do it!], ending of a relationship, body insecurity, adultery, cheating, there are no happy endings in real life bub.

Author's Notes: Even though this is an AU ending to All Pent Up & Nowhere to Go, I'm seeing this as the end of Frankie & Mouse. The original ending to that fic always felt like it didn't fit right and now that I am moving on from writing weight fics, this seemed like the right OTP to torpedo. I'm not sorry but I hope you'll forgive this beef anyway.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 for brainstorming this with me, and to @bitchesuntitled, @mothandpidgeon and @neverwheremoonchildfor their eyes and love.

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“That’s why you had to hide it then, huh?”, he yelled again, this time, sadness and hurt clearly in his voice. He didn’t know how to tell you the deep hurt he felt, thinking you were hiding seeking pleasure on your own from him; thinking you didn't want him anymore and could replace him with a fucking vibrator, “Wait till I’m not home and then fuck yourself? Don’t need me anymore?” 

You saw his body language show more than his words could say. He was hurting and had been hurting for a while. You had no clue that he was making this whole big change for you, and now you’d basically told him that after all that hard work, you’d replaced him. No, you had no idea what was running through his head. All you knew was that you were tired of being rebuffed and ignored and wanted to give yourself some much needed pleasure and release and he was mad at you for it. 

“How fucking dare you! You barely even look at me anymore – let alone touch me – and you want to give me shit for wanting to - to feel good?”, you yelled back, standing up from the bed. His face fell and his big brown eyes widened. Your emotions were getting the better of you, and you could feel the hot tears begin to flood your eyes. Your voice cracked. “What is happening, Frankie? Talk to me!” 

He said nothing. He just turned and hurried out of the room, and you heard the back door slam shut and the garage door open. You waited to hear the truck start, but nothing came. You grabbed your things from the bathroom and bedroom and settled into the guest room. 

*****

Frankie stormed out of the house, slamming the door as hard as he could on the way out. He ripped the door to his truck open and got in, choosing to forgo  buckling his seatbelt as he pulled out of the driveway. 

How could you? How could you just lay on your shared bed, looking so beautiful and untouchable while you made yourself feel so good. Without him. He tried to forget how sad your eyes were as you pulled back your hand after his rejection. His pride wouldn’t let him linger on that because his pride was not going to let him turn the truck around and throw himself at your feet, begging for forgiveness. 

He pulled up to the regular bar the group would all hang out at, and sat for a moment. Frankie pulled out his phone, expecting to see missed calls, but all that showed up on his screen was the alert from their doorbell cam, announcing his departure. 

His heart ached. He was getting healthier and back in shape and he should be happier. But he wasn’t. He was feeling worse about everything and drinking more to offset it, and even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it, a small part of him knew that this was all on him, not on you.

He wanted so badly for you to give him a sign, anything, to come back to the house and make it right. He told himself he didn’t want to go to the bar again and drink until his broken soul was numb and he knew by being here again, he was putting another nail in your relationship’s coffin.  His fingers twitched on the steering wheel, as if to let him know the bar was just right there - all he had to do was go in and he could forget all of this, at least for the night. Frankie didn’t know how long he’d sat there, but he was brought back to reality as a loud group of people exited the bar to smoke. He sighed, biting back the sick feeling making his skin feel wrong, and went into the bar. 

****

Frankie was downing his third beer when a hand came onto his shoulder.

“No Mouse?”

Frankie looked up and saw Natalie, one of Santi’s previous conquests, looking back at him. He cleared his throat and shook his head, looking back down at his beer. “No.”

He heard her pull the stool next to his out and moved it closer to him. “Trouble at home?”, she asked, sitting down. He could feel how warm her body was against his, making the ache in his chest feel deeper, reminding him that he was here and you weren’t.

“I-uh..”, he cleared his throat again. “It’s not been great.”

Her hand came up and sympathetically rubbed on his. “I’m sorry to hear that, Frankie.”

He nodded, eyeing her, then took another sip of beer.

“Well, you look great.”, she says a little too enthusiastically for Frankie, and he only sighed in response. 

“Look, Natalie. I’m not gonna be great company. I just wanna cool down before I go back home and… and…”, he dropped his head in his hands. “I don’t fucking know what I’m gonna do. I don’t know how to-”

“Frankie.”, Natalie interjected. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s pretty clear what’s going on.”

He looked up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re doing something for yourself, to make yourself feel better, and Mouse isn’t happy.”

Frankie wanted to correct her. He wanted to tell her that it was on him, that he was doing this for you and he felt like shit, and he wanted nothing more than to go home and hold the most important person in the world to him - you. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he accepted the shots Natalie ordered, and let her say horrible, untrue things about you, all because he was getting his ego stroked. 

So he said nothing, just nodded along. He didn’t put his barriers up and tell her to move her chair away. He didn’t stop her hands from touching him. He didn’t stop her from crawling on his lap, and he didn’t stop her when she kissed him.

Worst of all, he didn’t stop himself from taking her to his truck and doing everything he’d wanted to do with you to Natalie in the backseat.

*****

Natalie was still in the backseat of his truck, pulling her bra back on and Frankie was drinking down the two day old, open bottle of Gatorade to wash the taste of her out of his mouth. 

Frankie’s head was swimming. The alcohol was working its way through his system.

The dread that washed over him was sobering for a moment as he put the lid back on the bottle and caught a glimpse of Natalie in a rearview mirror, warm soft light from the street lamps illuminating her silhouette. She smiled up at him and crawled into the front seat.

“I was thinking-”

“No.”, Frankie said, sharper than he intended, shaking his head and feeling the alcohol swirl his vision. His tone softened, “This shouldn’t have happened.”

There was silence from the seat next to him. He couldn’t bring himself to face her, so he slurred in a harsh whisper again, “This shouldn’t have happened.”

There was the sound of a sharp breath followed by, “Are you fucking serious?”

“Natalie, I-”

“Are you fucking serious, Morales?” Natalie’s words were accentuated with a slightly drunken lilt and cold laughter. “Oh my god!”

He growled and looked up at her angrily. “What did you fucking expect?”

“That you’d be done with that little fuckwit and wake up!”

Frankie stared at Natalie, aghast and trying to fight the alcohol in his system and find the right words to shut her down, but she was quicker.

“Look what she did to you! Your little feeder is mad you won’t eat and kicks you out!”

Frankie sat with his mouth slightly agape. He knew that was not what happened but he couldn’t spit it out.

“Oh come on, Frankie!”, she scoffed in a laugh. “I’ve known you for how long? And since you’ve been with her, you got fat. Like fucking fat! She made you fat because she’s a freak and who fucking knows why you put up with it!”

“Get the fuck out.” His soft tone was menacing.

“Or what?”, she challenged him, her drunkenness emboldening her. “You can’t go back to that. I won’t let you, Frankie. She doesn’t deserve you! I can’t just let you go back to someone who asks to be called ‘Mouse’ over her real name! There’s something wrong with her and she needs help, acting like this is healthy to do this to you. You have to see-”

“I am doing this for her!”, Frankie shouted, cutting Natalie off. His eyes had softened and were now pleading and his voice dropped to a lower volume. “I’m doing this for her.”

“Frankie, I ca - you don’t have to defend her. I get it, and I want to help -”

“Just get out.”

Frankie’s drive from the bar was - in short - chaotic. He’d stopped at a corner store and picked up a case of beer, then drove out to a quiet look out, downing one right another the other.

He tried to drown the heavy lump of dread as he watched the sky lighten. Something told him could find a way to fix this if he could think of the right words to say to you, and if he could get the water in the shower hot enough, he could scrub Natalie from his skin like it never happened. 

The drive to your shared house was confusing. The street signs were unreadable through his tears and beer fueled haze and his stomach felt nauseous from the smell of Natalie permeating the truck cab. He couldn’t remember what colour meant stop or go, so he just drove by muscle memory alone.

*****

You’d tossed and turned all night long, unable to get comfortable. Any time you found yourself finally drifting off to sleep, the pangs of anxiety reverberated in your body, making your limbs ache and your skin feel too hot and too cold simultaneously. 

The light coming in from the window told you it was very early in the morning. The dredges of sleeplessness made your body feel heavy, making getting out of bed that much harder when you heard Frankie’s truck pull up.

As you padded down the hallway, you heard the back door open and Frankie’s heavy footsteps on the mudroom floor. You turned the corner into the kitchen and watch as he toed his boots off, looking slightly unsteady on his feet. The hair popping out from around his hat seemed more mussed and his clothing looked like he’d slept in them. He was clearly drunk and you were furious with him for driving home like that. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it as of late, and it wasn’t the first time he’d come home with his tail between his legs, drunk and pleading.

“Are you drunk?”

Your harshly spoken words cut through the heavy silence and Frankie looked up at you, eyes weary and desperate.

“Mouse - baby…” 

His words were slurred and desperate, and his voice was rough and sounded like he was in pain. He turned his body facing you and you saw that his lips looked reddened and worried and something on his neck. It was a hickey or bite mark, framed with a hint of red lipstick. Realization washed over you and you felt sick. 

Frankie reached out a hand to you, watching your face fall and pull away from him. “Baby, no, please!”

“What did you do…” Your words came out in a broken whisper and Frankie lumbered towards you, reaching out. Instead of falling into his hold, you shook your head and turned away towards your bedroom. 

“MOUSE!”

The volume at which he yelled your name made you stop in your tracks and turn around, and what you saw made your stomach churn. Frankie’s fists were clenched by his sides and he was breathing hard. His whole body seemed to be tense, like a snake would coil up before it striked, and his face was twisted in anguish and rage.

You froze. This was not your Frankie - it was just Frankie, drunk and looking the way he’d described his dad. You watched in abject horror as he moved towards you, and both of you stared into the other’s eyes.

Frankie broke the connection first with a sharp sob followed by his voice cracking with his slurred words. “Don’t look at me like that! Please, Mouse - I can explain, baby!”

You shook your head, face twisting in hurt, confusion and anger. You couldn’t keep going through the cycle of fighting, Frankie getting drunk  and having to bear the brunt of it. You stood your ground, yelling back at him, “You’re fucking drunk again - I don’t want to hear it -”

Frankie shook his head. “Just fucking listen to me!”

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and sobbed, “Get out!”

Natalie’s words about how you were the villain were leaching into his mind, peeling back the rational thought and fueling the insecurities he carried. You were the one who did this to him. You were the one who was forcing him to change. Everyone else could see it - why couldn’t you? You deserved what he did because now you knew how he felt every time you went out in public and other men’s eyes danced over your body and he just had to sit back like a cuck and let it happen. 

His breathing was growing rapid, and his eyes were fixed on you like a bull seeing red. As you turned to go into your room, Frankie lunged forward and reached out, grabbing your arm. He yanked you away from the bedroom door. 

“Don’t you EVER walk away from me when I am talking to you!”

“Let go! You’re hurting m - “

“You don’t get to to tell me when to leave my house!”

“Frankie! Stop it!”

You pushed him back and turned around, but his arms came around your waist, pulling you back into him. His hot, beer soaked breath painted the side of your neck and face.

“Mouse! I just-I just wanna talk… that’s all, baby.. I love you and i don’t wanna let you go-.”

He was cut off by your elbowing his abdomen, and it gave you a chance to get away from him. You ran into your room and slammed the door and locked, then stood back and watched the door shake from Frankie’s fists pounding on the other side. 

Grabbing your phone, you dialed the only number your trembling hands could.

Will answered his phone groggily and all he heard was your panicked crying and Frankie screaming in the background. 

*****

The morning was a blur. Will arrived with Benny quicker than you could have hoped for. Will and Benny had finally managed to drag Frankie from the house and out into the detached garage, but just barely. Based on the damage he’s inflicted on his friends who were trying to help, Benny was scared shitless as to what he would find on the other side of your bedroom door.

You’d finally opened the bedroom door when you’d made Benny promise that Will would keep Frankie out of the house. As soon as he was in the room with you, Benny’s concern had him kneeling on the floor in front of you, asking over and over if you were okay… if Frankie had hit you… if you were hurt… and each question, you could only shake your head. The reality of the situation was settling in, knowing this was not something you could just come back from easily and Benny held you as you cried.

Will had called Santi over to keep Frankie in place in the garage. The last thing he wanted was for him to get back into the house and see that Benny was helping you pack enough of your stuff to tie you over for a few days. 

Santi went into the house to get some water and found you standing at the kitchen table, wiping your eyes as you packed some important paperwork you weren’t sure you wanted to leave behind. He had no idea what to say, so Santi said nothing. 

He grabbed a cup from the cupboard and the pitcher of water from the fridge, leaving you in silence. 

*****

You’d left that day and moved in with Benny and his two cats - Butter and Bagels. Frankie’s infidelity had come fully to light with Natalie laying it all out for Santi and then Frankie confirmed it all, solidifying your choice to leave.

The break up had affected every part of the group, and while you assumed that you were in the right for walking away, Will shocked you when he told you to forgive and get back with Frankie.

“You don’t get it. Honey, I know he fucked up, but you’re better than that. You want loyalty, you have to be loyal, Mouse.”, he’d said sternly to you from across the table at a Denny’s. “You don’t leave a man when he’s down, and Frankie has seen some shit. You belong together, Mouse. You know that!”

It was a given that when you told Benny what Will had said, he drove straight to his house, barged in and punched Will square in the face, breaking his nose. 

Santi had sent you a bullshit text telling you that while he was sorry for what happened, Frankie was his brother and he needed to stand with him. He wished you well and said he’d be around if you needed anything. You angrily toyed with the idea of sending a curse-laden response, but instead just blocked his number and deleted the message. 

It had taken six months for you to begin to feel like yourself again. You’d joined a social group in the apartment complex and made a few acquaintances in the laundry room. You’d even switched to a new department at the accounting firm, allowing you to work from home.

Home. You had a home again. Benny’s apartment was finally home for you and you were cautiously optimistic for your future. 

The bar you’d frequented with the group was now considered non-existent to you. Benny even vowed to not darken its doorway in solidarity, so the two of you had found a new dive to hang out in. 

It was a little further out of the way, but it was quieter, and less of a bar and more of an all-night bistro. It didn’t hurt that the bartender there was easy on the eyes, what with his shorter hair, the small offset blonde patch in the front and his jewel-toned southern drawl crackling light lightning across the bar. 

You hadn’t gotten the courage to speak to him, let alone hold eye contact. At least not until one evening, you’d bravely wandered in - sand Benny - and sat at the bar instead of the booth you normally did.

The bartender turned around and put his weight on the counter, leaning slightly towards you, and with his cheshire grin, he asked, 

“And what can I get for you, little bird?”

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