Shallow customization gives you a costume. Deep customization gives you a character. SweetDream is firmly in the second camp, you shape appearance, personality, quirks, voice, and backstory until she's genuinely distinct.
That depth is itself a mark of quality, because it carries through into how she talks and behaves. The companion you carefully built is the companion you actually get. On sweetdream.ai, detailed creation pays off in every conversation.
Let me just start by saying; you're super talented! You're writing is amazing and puts a smile on my face (which is pretty hard to do these days.) You have such a good grasp of characters and just seem to get them. Now to the funny part; I decided to use Character AI to ask Frank Castle what he likes to do when he's not out punishing and stuff and he said he likes rollerskating in the park but hates it when he falls because teenagers laugh at him. So now I can't get that image out of my head. Imagine bringing Frank on a date rollerskating in the park 🙈😂
nonnie you’re really out here coming for my heart and you know what i’m gonna let you bc you’re so sweet and precious, thank you so much 😭😭😭
also can I just say that image in my head has me fucking DYING. I just can’t see him being…graceful at it?? like he’s so big and bulky…i’m literally in tears thinking about him rollerskating
“We'd heard stories about the Paramour. We heard stories about someone at a party there, being up in the tower and having a complete freakout. There was this one room that was in a tower, you'd have to climb these stairs – it was a separate tower from the rest of the house. And apparently at a party somebody had lost their mind and had to be brought out by an ambulance or something.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader
Summary: On the night of a summer full moon, Frankie’s backpacking alone in the woods when he’s attacked by an unnaturally large wolf.
Warnings: Reader is referred to in the third person, language, blood, animal attack, injuring an animal, hospital, confusion, fear, implication of mental instability and/or trying to get attention by a healthcare professional
Words: 2.6k
Tags: Personal werewolf lore, were!Frankie, Frankie POV, a lovely, quiet weekend gone horribly wrong, established relationship, protective Reader
Thank you @hdlynn for being the best beta reader in the world! 💗
A/N: This series takes place in the same universe as The Lunar Cycle Series with Frankie and you as his Reader wife, but it’s written from Frankie’s perspective. I’ve had several people express interest in learning more about how Frankie became a werewolf and what it’s like for him as he learns to adapt to his lycanthropy. While the timeline will overlap with The Lunar Cycle Series, these stories will be about different moments in your lives.
Watching his campfire slowly die, Frankie lets the sounds of the night woods wash over him. Frogs, crickets, cicadas, the soft calls of birds, and the last of the wood crackling under the flames each play a part in the perfect symphony.
He’s been so busy enjoying his new marriage that he hasn’t gone camping at all this year, but he couldn’t let the summer go by without taking one weekend to backpack all by himself. He even left his phone at home since he wouldn’t get a signal, anyway.
There’s a peace that he only finds in being alone in nature. It lets him decompress and center himself for when he goes back to everyday life. That feels especially important now that he’s a husband and will hopefully soon be a father, too.
When the fire is almost out, he douses it in water and then mixes up the ashes to make sure all the embers are dead. The slight breeze doesn’t reignite anything, so it’s safe to leave for a while.
The beautiful silvery-blue full moon is peaking through the trees. The point of hiking this particular weekend is to see the supermoon unobstructed. Now that it’s high in the sky, he’s ready to go to the look-out point on the cliff above the mountain lake.
He puts on his smaller pack, which has a compass, bear spray, rope, first aid kit, water, and some snacks. He also has a hunting pistol in the holster on his hip and his bear horn in hand.
A pang of longing goes through him, a desire to share the beauty of this moon with his abejita—his little bee, as he likes to call his wife, since she’s always busy with something. Is she watching it from their back porch with iced tea and low music? Damn, she’s probably wearing those shorts he loves so much, too.
Frankie forces himself to refocus on his surroundings. This is about resetting with nature. He breathes in the cooling air, smiling at the fireflies and ignoring the mosquitoes. Their bites don’t bother him much.
There’s a pretty clear path through this part of the forest, despite being in deep enough that he hasn’t run into any other campers since he settled on his spot for the night. He doesn’t even need his flashlight to see in the brilliant moonlight.
Just as he’s nearing the place where the trees open up, he hears a rustling behind him. He glances around, ready with the bear horn. For a long moment, he listens. Nothing. What he doesn’t notice—but should have—is that all the noises of the forest have ceased, not just the moving leaves.
He doesn’t even realize the creature is coming up silently behind him until he’s been tackled to the ground, the bear horn flying out of his hand.
His terrified scream is cut off by the crushing weight of a massive, furry, grey animal on his chest. His brain tells him it’s a bear. What else is so big? Then, it raises itself off him, only using its huge paw to pin him down by his sternum. It’s not a bear, it’s a wolf.
Or, at least, it looks like a wolf. Unlike the wolves he’s seen in nature documentaries, though, this thing’s head is nearly as big as his whole torso. The paw is as thick as one of his thighs. Its yellow eyes glow brightly in the moonlight.
Then, it grins at him. Not the kind of smile he’s seen on his best friend’s pit bull, so sweet and loving, but one of sinister joy at having him prone and powerless.
It’s this that finally unfreezes him enough to grab his gun from the holster. He can’t get a good angle to shoot at its head with the paw on him, so he fires three rounds at the beast’s abdomen. Hot blood soaks his shirt.
It lets out an outraged snarl before its massive teeth latch onto his left shoulder, perilously close to his neck. He feels its teeth go through his backpack strap, flesh, muscle and then bone. It’s a fiery agony unlike anything he’s ever experienced.
Bellowing, he shoots wildly again. And again.
With a choking gurgle, its jaws unhinges. Frankie hadn’t realized he’d been picked off the ground until he feels himself thud painfully back against rocks and dirt.
He knows he’s got a couple bullets left, so, fighting the desire to pass out, he fires at its head. The bullet lodges in its neck. It screams and, to his relief, begins to lope away as fast as its badly bleeding body can go.
There’s no way it’ll survive with six bullets in it, Frankie thinks before everything goes black.
- - -
When Frankie returns to consciousness, he has no idea how much time has passed. The moon is still high, so it can’t have been too long. He glances around, panicked, for the wolf, but there’s no sign of it except a blood trail leading into the trees.
Then, he looks at his shoulder. The backpack strap was severed, now hanging limply on the ground. His green flannel shirt is ripped and soaked in still-wet blood, both his own and the creature’s.
“You’re okay, Catfish, you’re okay. Better to know what you’re dealing with.” The brief pep talk gives him a the courage to look at the damage.
Gingerly, he begins to tug at the ripped fabric. The pain of his wound has lessened considerably, probably numbed by shock.
When he sees that the deep bite marks are cleanly scabbed over, though, he lightly slaps his cheek to make sure he’s actually awake. He is. But there’s no way he can have healed this much in what has to be less than an hour!
“What the fuck?” he whispers in bewilderment.
Tugging his shirt off completely, he does the best examination he can without a mirror. There are large, sticky streaks of blood from the puncture marks, but it really does look like they’re at least twenty-four hours old.
For some reason, this scares him almost as much as the attack. How is it possible to have healed this quickly? He felt the teeth hit his bones! Yet, he can rotate his shoulder and neck without serious pain.
The only thing he’s sure of is he needs to get to the hospital for rabies treatment. Wolves almost never attack humans unless they’re rabid or starving. That wolf was definitely not starving. Could rabies account for the quick healing of his wounds? He doesn’t think so, but what other explanation is there?
Frankie scrambles to his feet and snatches up the bear horn and his hat, both of which landed nearby. Then, he begins to run up the path, backpack bouncing from the one good strap.
It doesn’t take him long to pack up his tent and other belongings, but it will take him most of the night to walk back down to his car. He briefly considers radioing for Mountain Services, but they’d take too long.
While it’s not wise to hike down a mountain with only a flashlight, he considers it safer than staying. That beast’s menacing grin lurks in his mind.
The hike down always goes faster than up, but it goes especially quickly tonight as he races along the path.
The first glow of dawn is warming up the horizon when Frankie finally reaches his truck. Once inside, he turns on the interior light and flips the visor mirror down to get a better look at his shoulder.
Frankie’s heart jumps in his throat when he sees the wounds have completely healed, leaving fresh scars. There is no more pain at all. He almost throws up, but the breathing technique Abejita taught him calms his nausea.
Wishing desperately he’d brought his phone so he could call her, he begins to drive the couple of hours to the hospital nearest their home.
- - -
Frankie’s a sight when he enters the ER, covered in dried blood and dirt, with his hair sticking out even more wildly than usual from under his hat.
“I was bitten by a wild wolf, I think it had rabies!” he frantically tells the receptionist.
She remains calm. “How bad is the bleeding?”
“It’s stopped, but—”
Interrupting, she says, “We’ll be with you soon. Please fill out these forms.” She hands him a clipboard and a pen.
“But I—”
She cuts him off again, almost looking annoyed. “Sir, you’re not in critical condition, so you’re going to have to wait.”
“Can I use a phone? I need to call my wife.” His voice is hoarse, desperate.
“We don’t have phones for patients who haven’t been admitted.”
Fighting panic, he looks around the waiting room. There’s a woman reading a book who doesn’t look injured or ill. She’s probably waiting for someone who is.
“Um, ma’am,” he begins, “sorry to bother you, but could I borrow your phone? I left mine at home and I need to call my wife.”
She smiles kindly, pulling hers out of her purse. “You look like you’ve had a bad night.”
“Hiking accident,” he manages. “Thank you so much.”
Abejita’s phone rings and rings. She’s probably still asleep, it is Sunday. Finally, just before it picks up for voicemail, she answers blearily, “Hello?”
“It’s me,” he says, feeling a lump rise in his throat at the sound of her voice.
“Frankie? Where are you calling from?”
“I’m at the hospital.”
“What?!” she gasps. He hears her stumbling out of bed, then a soft thud and a sharp, “Ow!” She probably hit her shin on the nightstand. “Honey, what happened? Are you okay?”
Frankie squeezes his eyes shut, not sure how to answer that question. “I’m okay… I just need you.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour. I love you!”
“I love you, too,” he whispers before hanging up. He holds out the phone to the woman. “Thank you again.”
She smiles again. “Of course.”
It’s only takes his wife twenty minutes to arrive, which means she drove way too fast. He’s still waiting, with no sign of even being put in an exam room.
“Oh my god!” She rushes over to him. “What happened to you? Where are you hurt? Why haven’t they taken you back yet?” She touches his shirt, which is now stiff with dried blood.
Frankie can only cling to her. His body shivers violently as it finally feels safe enough to begin processing what happened.
Her arms lock around him. “You’re okay,” she soothes. “I’ve got you.”
After a minute, she pushes him into a chair and sits next to him, holding his hand. “Can you talk about it?”
“I… it…” He swallows hard, the leering face of the wolf returning to his mind’s eye. “Animal attack,” he finally gets out. “A wolf the size of a bear. It tried to kill me. I got bit.”
Her eyes close in horror for a brief second.
“I shot it. Think I killed it.” He inhales slowly. “There’s something wrong with the bite…” He pulls his torn shirt off his shoulder, revealing the skin is completely unmarred. Even the scar’s healed. “It’s gone.”
“But your shirt!”
“Yeah.” The trembling is finally easing, but it’s taken the adrenaline with it. He rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. Her arm comes around him and pulls off his hat so she can stroke his hair.
He must have dozed off because the next thing he registers is her shaking him gently. “Sweetheart, they’ve got a room ready.”
Frankie opens his eyes and sees a nurse with a concerned smile. “Are you able to walk, Mr. Morales?”
“Yeah.” He gets to his feet and follows her with his wife at his side.
Once in the room, the nurse assesses his appearance. “I’m going to look at your shoulder. I’ll try not to hurt you.”
He doesn’t tell her that it’s healed, deciding to see what she says when she discovers it for herself.
Her eyes widen In confusion when she pulls the fabric tatters away from his skin. “I thought you said your left shoulder was injured.”
“It was. But it healed. I don’t know how, but it did.”
The nurse’s cool fingers brush over his skin. “There’s absolutely no sign of anything happening except for the blood.” Her eyes narrow at him. “Mr. Morales, this ER is no place for pranks.”
This accusation startles him. “This wasn’t a prank! I was attacked by a huge wolf eight hours ago. I came here so that I could be treated for rabies and the doctor could tell me how I’ve healed!” He’s pleading with her to understand, to help him.
“My husband is not a liar!”
The nurse shakes her head. “Unless he has a bite, we can’t treat him for rabies. In fact, I don’t see anything physically wrong with him.”
The insinuation that there might be something mentally wrong with him alarms Frankie, but his wife isn’t having it. “Look at his shirt! Where would all that blood have come from if not him and the wolf that hurt him?!”
“Mrs. Morales, may I speak with you privately?” the nurse asks, her tone softening.
He watches them step into the hall, his heart pounding. Did he imagine it? No, couldn’t have. The blood is there, the shred marks are there. The damage to his backpack is real. His gun will have proof that he fired it recently.
It’s less than a minute later when the door opens and his wife is hissing venomously, “Fuck you!” as she walks in. “Come on, honey, we’re going to go somewhere else. These people are the crazy ones!”
Too exhausted and confused to protest, he lets her lead him out of the hospital.
“I’m taking you home. I’ll get Ann to drive me out here for your truck later,” she says, her voice once again soothing.
“I didn’t imagine it,” he mumbles. “I swear, I didn’t.”
She stops walking and turns to face him. Her expression is so compassionate and trusting that he wants to weep. “I know you didn’t, Fransisco. If I thought you’d made it up, I’d already be making an appointment for you to talk to a mental health professional. But I know you, this isn’t some elaborate cry for help. We’ll figure out what happened together, I promise.”
Her confidence in him eases his own anxiety about his state of mind. He embraces her. “Can we go home?”
She kisses his cheeks tenderly. “Yes, let’s go home. We’ll make an appointment with your regular doctor tomorrow. He knows you, he’ll help.”
Even as Frankie gets into the passenger’s seat, he’s certain that, unless he gets sick with rabies, there may never be anyone besides his wife who believes him about the wolf.
He pulls down the visor and looks at his dirty face in the mirror. For a split second, he swears that his eyes glow yellow like the wolf’s. He squeezes them shut and then looks again. Normal brown.
“Are you hungry? We’ve got food at home, but I can stop at a drive-thru if you want something special,” she offers as they leave the hospital.
Not wanting her to worry any more than she already is, he smiles, “I could go for a greasy egg sandwich.”
Staring out the window, he knows he won’t be hiking alone for a long time, possibly ever again. The solace that it once brought him has been shattered. The idea of being alone at all sends a shiver through him.
“You okay?” she asks, noticing.
“I’m just glad I won’t be sleeping by myself tonight.” He catches the hand that she’s not using to drive and kisses her knuckles. The feel of her skin is the best reminder that he’s safe and will soon be home.
Thank you SO much for reading this story; I'd love to hear your thoughts! 🥰
can you imagine being Frankie when Rai came back? 820 years of him probably thinking of the worst-case scenario to then having no time at all to process anything as the Union starts raining down on ‘em like hell, new additions to the family come in the millions, and what next? Nobles start turning against ‘em
what on Earth could have been going through his head?
