The Pedro Pascal Files

Daddy Duties // Francisco "Catfish" Morales

(Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

You're big. Perhaps too big. You're seven months pregnant. Everything hurts at this point. You feel miserable and try to hide it from everyone. Pregnancy with Cara was so easy, but this time seems different entirely. You can barely see your toes past your protruding belly. Cara has been a handful lately, more so than normal. It's driving you nuts that she will not behave.

Frankie still has to work and often times, Will or Benny will drop by to try and help the process. However, both of them can only play Barbie and Polly Pocket for so many hours. You sigh heavily at the thought of this afternoon coming to a close. Benny needs to leave soon. He's stayed way past his time even to where he cancelled his gym session to help you. Frankie will be home at any moment.

"Okay, she's OUT." Benny says, walking down the hallway and into the living room. "Thank god." You say, leaning your head back on the couch. Benny flops down next to you. "If only I could get more than five minutes of sitting down time." You say. "What else needs to be done?" He asks. It seems that even Benny has reached his saturation point. The only positive to this is that it could be this way for him some day. "Fish is going to be home and I haven't cooked dinner." You pout.

There hasn't been a day in your marriage/relationship that you DIDN'T have dinner made when Frankie got home. You had always done that for him. Eating out was rare, even now that your budget would be squeezed with two children. "What were you going to make?" Benny inquires. "I don't know..." you say. He gets up from the couch, heading to the kitchen. "Oh Benny, leave it be. I'll just send Frankie to get takeout." You say. Benny ignores the comment. He's stubborn, like usual.

Before long, the house is wafting with a yummy aroma. Frankie walks through the front door and Cara greets him. She proceeds to tell him all about her day, leaving out the unsatisfactory bits (which equates to about half the day). Frankie speaks sweetly to her as he wanders into the kitchen to find Benny. "Damn, I don't remember marrying you." He teases. Benny's wearing your apron, partially as a joke. "You're late, as usual." He says, playing up the character. Frankie puts Cara down. "Well, I'm sorry, darling." He says.

Just then, you shuffle from down the hall. Frankie's smile fades as he catches the tiredness that's tainting your skin and mood. He moves towards you. "How was work?" You ask under heavy lids. "It was okay." He says. He's more focused on you. "How was your day?" He asks, already knowing the answer. "Exhausting. I've worked Benny to death practically. We'll be lucky if he ever wants to come back." You say. Frankie sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm not here enough. I should take off—" You stop him. "No. We need the money. It's only 8 more weeks." You say.

"Honey, you need help. I can see where you're struggling...let me do this." He urges. "Frankie..." "Come on. You can take a mental break. Go out for a bit. I'll watch Cara. You can go to your mom's for the weekend." He suggests." "Frank, that's hardly fair. There's so much to do here—" he places his finger to your lips. "Stop." He says, dropping his hand to land on your shoulder. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. "I can handle it." He says. His eyes are filled with concern and just the desire to take all of this away from you. You take a deep breath, rolling your lips together. You wipe the tears away. "Okay. Okay. I'll call my mom tomorrow." You say.

The days fly by and before you know it, your mom is knocking on the door. Frankie follows you to the door, holding Cara in one arm & your overnight bag in another. You open the door to your mother who is smiling brightly. "Oh honey! You look..." she pauses. Frankie is standing behind you, motioning for her to not say a word. "Terrible? I know." You say. "Oh! I didn't mean it, sweetheart." She says, tugging you into a hug. Once again, your belly is in the way. You sigh heavily. The doorway seems cramped and you feel like you're being pushed out without so much as a goodbye. As you slip around your mother, the entryway seems less smothering.