YOU

My Side of the Fence

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (no Y/N) Word Count: 6685 Warnings: Swearing, fluff, a small touch of angst, brief mention of death, brief mention of a terminal illness, drinking. Summary: When you move in next door to help take care of your ailing aunt, you and Frankie form a budding friendship as you live out your lives on opposite sides of the fence line, that maybe could be something more. A/N: Unbeta’d. Also, any Spanish is courtesy of Google Translate, so I profusely apologize to any native speakers if something is incorrect. This series has a Spotify playlist that you can find on the Series Masterlist. Some suggested listening for this chapter would be: Forever’s Gotta Start Somewhere by Chad Brownlee, Unbreakable Heart by JJ Heller, and Shallow by Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper.

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Next

It’s a quiet Saturday afternoon. The baby is down for her nap. Santiago is inside getting the two of them drinks. Will and Benny, as always, are late to arrive. It’s game day; the Marlins versus the Phillies. The countertops of his kitchen bogged down in an array of chips, dips, and other snacks. Frankie could be inside, relaxing in the coolness of the air conditioning instead of the buzzing heat of a Florida summer. But he’s not.

For the last fifteen minutes or so, he’s been sitting on a patio chair under the shade of his front porch. Watching you. As you hoist cardboard boxes from the dark green Chevy Trailblazer parked haphazardly in front of the house next door. The front passenger tire is rolled up over the curb, the guts of it stacked ceiling-high with moving boxes, baskets of laundry, and totes of random kitsch. A rickety trailer filled with mismatched bedroom furniture is hitched behind it.

He’s been watching, partly out of curiosity, while he’s been fumbling to string together the right words in his head. Words that would entice you to accept his offer of help without him coming off as some creepy old man. They taunt him, glued at the tip of his tongue, while he sits and broods over his continued silence.

“Your new neighbor is kinda cute, Fish,” Santiago comments offhandedly as he pops out of the front door, gawking over the top of the fence at you. He’s got two longneck beers fisted in one hand, the condensation dripping down the brown glass in thick beads while he stares. He diverts his attention back to Frankie, letting the screen door shut with a squeak-thunk as he strolls over. He drops into one of the wicker patio chairs beside him, holding out one of the beers.

Frankie grabs it as Santi takes a long swig from his, watching as you bound back towards your vehicle.

Santiago quirks an eyebrow and points towards the neighbor’s house with the mouth of his bottle, “What happened to the sweet lady who lived there? I liked her.”

“She’s still around,” Frankie shrugs, sipping his beer. The lady in question, Miss Robin, has lived beside him since he moved in, right after he got out of the service. A little eccentric, she’d quickly earned herself the title of his favorite neighbor. She’d cemented the sentiment further when she’d staunchly supported him after the spectacular failure of his marriage. They’ve had so many conversations he’s lost track of most of them.

She’s old school. Classic. Kooky, but fun.

He’s never seen her go a day without donning ruby red lipstick, an ornate flower crown in her hair, and cat-eye glasses attached to a chain around her neck. She and her wife, Virginia, used to throw the wackiest themed parties for their friends that carried on until the cops came out to shut them down. And every Christmas or birthday, she mails him a handwritten card, even though there’s, at best, ten yards between their houses.

Of course, the parties stopped when Ginny passed away from heart complications just before his daughter Viviana was born. The cards are shorter now, the penmanship less clear. Miss Robin’s health hasn't been doing so great lately. She used to greet him at the fence line when he’d get home from work. Give Vivi a smooch on her chubby baby cheek. A bright red lip print left behind. Matching giggles floating between them as they babbled together.

These days he’s lucky if they get a wave from the picture window out front. She’s gotten frail. Lipstick sloppy and flower crown askew from her shaky hands. She can’t go anywhere these days without a tank of oxygen. It was a shit hand she’d been dealt and he hated watching as her exuberance faded.

She didn’t have any kids of her own, but she had siblings and nieces and nephews aplenty. As her illness progressed, it was getting too hard for her to manage the dishes, laundry, yard work, and other chores by herself. He’d done what he could for her: mow the lawn, bring up her mail, haul her trash bins back and forth from the curb. It was kind, but in the long run, he knew there was no way he could manage both his side of the fence and hers. That’s why you were there.

She’d told him you were her favorite niece as he brought a bundle of bills and junk mail to her door one day. She’d ushered him and Vivi into her flower-laden backyard to explain the new face that would be arriving soon. She knew he would worry about a stranger flitting around her house every day. She’d sat with him on the back patio, sipping ice tea and soaking in the late afternoon sun. Vivi chased butterflies and bugs on her wobbly toddler legs while she told him near everything about you. By the time she was done, the pitcher of tea was empty, the sun was dipping below the horizon, and his daughter was dozing off in his lap. He’d left that day feeling like he knew you almost as well as she did.

That was part of the reason he felt like such a dick right now, watching you fumble with a too-large box as you twisted to fit it through the front door. He eyes the furniture in the trailer critically, wondering how you planned to get it inside by yourself.

“Where the hell are Ironhead and Benny?” Santi questions, checking his watch and glancing both ways down the block, “First pitch is in twenty minutes and-” he trails off when he realizes Frankie isn’t paying attention. He stares between his best friend and you, observing how Frankie’s eyes follow you with each trip you take from the car to the house.

He hums to himself thoughtfully and then chugs the rest of his beer. Smacking his lips with a satisfied “Aah,” before leaping to his feet with a clap of his hands. Frankie watches, dumbstruck, as he saunters to the fence line, leaning against the chain-link as he calls out to you, “Hey gorgeous! You need some help? I promise we don’t bite.”

You’re half-in, half-out of the backseat, reaching for a laundry basket of clean clothes when you hear him and turn his way. He’s handsome with his sharp jaw, dark wavy hair with streaks of silver, and five o’clock shadow. He’s got an almost cocky smile broad on his face while he waits for your answer.

You throw back a grin at him, “Uh, sure. Thanks!”

Aunt Robin has mentioned her neighbors to you. To give you the lay of the land, so to speak. Most were ho-hum, but there were some compelling characters mixed in. There was the nosy biddy three houses down, who eked out her old age gawking at everyone from her windows and reporting “persons of interest” to the neighborhood watch. Then there was the middle-aged couple across the street with two mischievous teenage sons. The boys like to swipe lawn ornaments and set them up in wildly inappropriate scenes across the neighborhood. Lastly, and Aunt Robin’s most-loved neighbor, was the divorced father who lived just next door. He always looked out for her, his daughter was sweet, and she found his friends to be such interesting young men.

You’ve heard a lot about him, actually. More so than any of the others. If this is him, though, he’s different from how you pictured. Cheekier and less reserved than what had been described to you.

“Catfish!” Santiago turns to shout at Frankie, “Let’s help the lady out!”

Leave it to Santi to throw around his swagger and resolve the issue he’d been mulling over for too long.

Unlike his friend, Frankie abandons the barely drank beer in his hands on the deck of the porch. Broad hands swiping the silent baby monitor from the railing beside him as he shuffles down the steps. He’s still clipping it to a belt loop as Santiago is rounding the fence, swinging around the end post into the next yard.

“Pendejo,” Frankie mutters, lifting his well-worn hat off his head to card through his hair, and replacing it before he follows after. He loiters a few paces behind Santi, as you hand his friend one of the boxes from the backseat of the SUV.

He shifts it so he can hold it one-handed, flashing a charming smile as he extends a palm out to you in introduction, “Santiago Garcia.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, offering him your name in return and then glancing over his shoulder. The man behind Santiago is handsome too. He’s a bit taller and more broad than his friend, with coffee-brown hair that winds up around the edges of his ball cap in soft-looking curlicues. You can see a thin silver-white scar just under his left eye that stands out against his tanned skin. He’s got rugged salt and pepper scruff and a matching mustache that twitches along with his upper lip as his eyes meet yours. They are a warm, rich brown and they roam over you, examining your features the same way you did his. Between the two, you think he’s the more attractive one.

Santi follows your line of sight to Frankie, a little amused at being so utterly forgotten, “Fish, stop lurking back there and say hi.”

With that, he readjusts the box in his arms and heads towards the front door, not even asking where that particular parcel belongs. Frankie takes a reluctant step forward, scratching nervously at the nape of his neck. You’re damn pretty. He already knew that, sort of. Miss Robin had shared a few old photos with him, but boy, were they poor comparison to the real thing before him now. It sure as fuck made him more jittery as he reached to shake your hand, too.

You notice how your whole hand is engulfed by his palm and the curves of his fingers. Rough and work calloused, his hand seems a perfect match to the man before you. Beat-up ball cap, red t-shirt stretched out at the neckline from wear and washed out jeans. He has all the appearance of a hardworking, easy-going man. And you like that.

“So...Fish, was it?” you question, raising your eyebrows in unison when he remains silent.

It’s mostly because he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you are.

“It’s Francisco,” he replies, clearing his throat and finally speaking, “or, uh, Frankie. Morales,” then he points to the house behind him with a jerk of his thumb, hoping you don’t notice the weeds in the flowerbeds or the porch rails with their chipping paint, “I live next door.”

As if that wasn’t fucking obvious. He mentally groans at his own stupidity, but you don’t notice as you hit him with a million-watt smile that shoots right to his heart.

“So, you’re the neighbor!” you say excitedly, pulling him into an unexpected hug that leaves him reeling as you continue, “Aunt Robin told me about how wonderful you’ve been to her since she got sick. You have no idea how worried we’ve all been about her being in the house by herself.”

“U-uh,” Frankie stumbles for a reply before one catches on his tongue, “I-It’s no problem. Neighbors are supposed to look out for each other.”

“Well, I really appreciate it,” you beam, pulling back to look him earnestly in the face, “Not enough people feel that way these days.”

Admittedly, he probably has an outdated view of urban Americana and maybe it might be suitable if he lived anywhere else. The neighborhood he lives in isn’t the greatest. Thirty or so years ago it was the ideal with its cookie-cutter houses and tree-lined streets. Nowadays too many families have been pulling out of the city for suburbia and the country. The houses ended up sitting vacant or converted to rentals, leased to sketchy college students looking for cheap rent off-campus. The ones that stayed behind were either too attached to their homes, like Miss Robin, or couldn’t afford to move, like him.

He offers you a lopsided grin that pulls a dimple into his right cheek as he motions to the back of your vehicle, “What should I grab?”

“Anything is fine,” you say, sweeping up the basket of clothes you had set down when Santiago had called out to you. Frankie pops open the tailgate to grab one of the larger boxes stacked back there and follows after you up the front walk.

The house is a quaint single-story two-bedroom affair, the outside a muted pastel blue with white trim and a dark gray roof. The age of its owner is more evident inside, with retro scalloped wallpaper, wood paneling, worn shag carpeting, and faded linoleum. A bright mix of tangerine, canary yellow, and walnut that would have been in vogue when the home was purchased.

Your aunt is seated in a plush velvet lounge chair across the room. Santiago kneels beside her, leaning on the armrest as she pats his cheek affectionately. He whispers something to her that makes her eyes go wide before she bursts into laughter. You give them both a wave as you and Frankie pass through the living room and take a left into a short hallway.

The first door on the right is ajar, the room lit by an outdated ceiling fan that swirls lazily overhead. You step inside, wiggle an elbow towards a pile of boxes in the far corner, and tell him, “Over there is fine,” as you plunk the basket in your arms into the bottom of the closet on the other side of the room. He stacks his armload with the others before the two of you retreat back through the house.

“Francisco,” Miss Robin coos at him as he passes, waving him over with her hands, “You come over here and give me a hug real quick.”

You linger at the doorway, watching as he crosses the room without hesitation, wrapping her petite frame in the broadness of his own. He’s careful of the tubing and nosepiece for her oxygen as he embraces her and you can’t help the grin that spreads ear-to-ear as you brush past Santiago as he’s heading in with another load.

“How’s our Vivi?” she asks Frankie in a soft voice as he pulls away again, “I miss her sweet face.”

He tells her all about how big his daughter is getting. Tall for her age. Her features seem less baby-like every day he picks her up from daycare. Growing into a miniature version of him, as his friends would tell it. Then there are the new words and colors and songs she’s learned.

Aunt Robin smiles softly, watching as his eyes flick up to look at you each time you cross the room with another load.

“The two of you will have to come have dinner with us sometime,” She pats the back of his hand excitedly, “My girl is a good cook. She’ll take care of us,” and then a sly grin pulls at her lips, “I hope you’ll look out for her like you have for me.”

“Of course I will,” he promises, pecking her on the cheek as he stands again, “I should get back to helping before Pope accuses me of slacking.”

With three of you put to the task, it’s quick work emptying out the back of the Trailblazer. A few small totes and a crate of bathroom essentials are all that remain, which are easy enough for you to get later. Frankie and Santiago make the decision to start hauling in the bedroom furniture next, unloading your dresser from the back of the trailer as a souped-up truck rolls into Frankie’s driveway.

All three of you shoot looks over the fence as Will and Benny hop out of the cab. They’re bickering about something as the doors slam behind them. As you watch them you wonder if your new neighbor and his friends have cornered the market on good looks.

“Pope! Fish!” the younger of the two shouts, holding up a six-pack of fruity beer, “What are you boys doing?!” before he motions dramatically towards Frankie’s house, “The game’s already started.”

“More of your friends?” you question Frankie, as he and Santi gently set down the dresser on the walkway. The older one has already jogged over to where the three of you are standing, relieving you of the empty dresser drawer you were carrying.

“Will Miller,” Frankie introduces you to the man in front of you, “and that’s his brother Benny.”

Benny is still standing in his driveway, passing belligerent looks between all of you before his brother barks, “Get over here and help Benjamin!” and he heaves an annoyed sigh before setting his beer on the truck’s hood and hustling over.

You are a little taken aback by all of the unexpected help, as the four of them manage to unload your entire bedroom setup into the spare room in no time flat. Aunt Robin is thrilled over all of the extra visitors, who all greet her with kindness and familiarity. You glance at Frankie, who is laughing as your aunt pinches Benny's cheeks, and are overwhelmingly grateful for the fact that he has clearly done more than just check-in on her every so often.

You’re walking the four of them back to the fence line when a navy blue Kia slips into the driveway behind you, your best friend behind the wheel.

“Turns out I didn’t need you after all Liv!” you crow as she exits the vehicle, taking an appreciative look at your newfound company before nearly being barrelled over by your large Goldendoodle as he charges towards you in excitement.

She lets out an exasperated noise as he trots away, “I’d have been here an hour ago if your furry friend here would have gotten his ass into the damn car when I told him to.”

“My Gatsby?” you fuss, leaning over to scritch him as he prances circles around you before he skirts past you to investigate your neighbor and his friends with inquisitive snuffles at their legs, “Sounds about right for you, you hairy monstrosity.”

Liv takes a few moments to get through some introductions while you try to wrangle in your canine companion.

Gatsby decides that out of the four of them, Frankie is the most interesting subject. His two large paws scrambling up onto his chest, so he can sniff at Frankie’s scruff and slobber at his chin. You tug at his collar with an authoritative, “Get down!” but your neighbor takes it all in an easy stride, rubbing Gatsby down with both hands.

“I probably smell like my dog,” Frankie says aloud, talking to your dog and not you, “Little shit is going to be jealous if he finds out I’ve been petting you.”

As if on cue, a brown and black foxhound pops up into one of the front windows next door, a boisterous yowl sounding through the baby monitor at Frankie’s hip. You hear him groan moments before a shrill cry of “Papa!” carries over the sound of the dog. He nudges Gatsby back down onto all fours and waits for you to get a hold of him before he locks eyes with you, “That’s my baby girl. I gotta go.”

“No, of course,” you tell him, “Thank you so much for the help. I owe you.”

“It’s no trouble,” he smiles at you one last time, before retreating with his friends towards the house.

There are dishes in the sink that need washing. Laundry in the dryer, growing wrinkled and cold. The counters need to be wiped down and the floors swept. But you are in the backyard instead, enticed by the beauty of the day. It’s temperate and bright, dappled sunlight glimmering through the leaves of the maples, oaks, and cypress that spackle the neighborhood. The air is rich with the heady sweet florals of Aunt Robin’s garden and the resonating sounds of joy that drift over the fence.

Frankie’s back deck has been invaded by his friends. They take turns cracking jokes, choosing songs from a classic rock playlist, and rolling in the grass with his beautiful daughter. It’s heartwarming, watching these burly grown men love on that tiny, sweet girl. Which is part of the reason that you’re out here, planting blush pink chrysanthemums in the already overcrowded beds and letting the housework wait. You’ve been drawn in by your neighbor and his friends from the moment that you met them.

You’ve gleaned a lot, observing them from the quiet corners of your yard. Sometimes getting details straight from Frankie. Or through sly comments made by your aunt, who delivers them in breathy whispers against your ear when she catches your lingering looks when they turn up next door.

There’s straight-laced Will, with his clean-cut, all-American appeal. He’s tall and laid-back, with a no-nonsense take on life. Steady and cool no matter what chaos breaks out. His brother, Benny, is cut from a similar cloth, though his personality skews into goofiness. You get the idea he likes to be the loudest person in the room, dropping wise-ass remarks or instigating tickle wars with Vivi until she’s red-faced and lost in a giggling fit. Santiago, well, you could tell from the get-go that he fancies himself as some suave casanova. Full of honeyed words and cheeky grins, strutting around like a peacock looking to mate. He likes to crow to you over the fence, dropping saucy flirtations that always fail to bait you. Then there’s Frankie. He’s warm, smart, and uncommonly kind with a quiet, soft-spoken charm. In the last few months, he and Viviana have managed to stitch themselves into your life as if sewn in by an expert seamstress. It’s a delightfully unexpected symbiosis.

It started small. He’d bring up the bins on trash day if you got home late. Casually remind you as he leaned on the fencepost that you should park in the driveway at night not the street, otherwise the cops will ticket you. You would sneak Alamo, his hound dog, treats threaded between the gaps in the chain-link. Sit out on the back patio with your Bluetooth speaker blasting Disney songs, so you and Vivi could serenade each other while she blew bubbles or splashed in her kiddie pool.

It grew, with him offering to continue to mow the lawn when Aunt Robin’s ancient contraption refused to start. In exchange, you took his daughter on adventures to the neighborhood park where she would burn off most of her excess energy. Afterward, he’d sit at the back patio with you, downing an icy beer while you and Vivi sipped pink lemonade, watching the dogs sprint through their respective yards. You once spent an afternoon clearing his flower beds of weeds and coaxing his dying coreopsis and zinnias back to life. Carefully pruning and watering them over weeks until they bloomed in bursts of gold and garnet and magenta. He canceled a night out with the boys to sort out your washer when the drum refused to spin and it puddled water down the hallway. Sending you next door to use his, watching cartoons with Viviana while the clothes went through the wash.

It evolved into Monday movie nights at his. Some PG thing playing on the flat screen while his daughter wedged herself between the two of you. Gorging on popcorn and pretzels and soda. Then Wednesday night dinners at yours. You’d cook, he’d set the table. Vivi would read stories with Aunt Robin while you both cleaned up. She’d fall asleep on Gatsby's wispy haunches while Frankie waltzed with your aunt in the living room as Eric Clapton and Barry White played on her old 45s. You’d snap pictures of it all with a vintage polaroid camera you found gathering dust in the back of a closet. You’d walk them to the fence, twisting Vivi’s curls around your finger while you kissed her sleepy head goodbye.

There was hardly a day that went by that you didn’t spend at least a few minutes in each other's company. Conversation between the two of you seemed easy, passed back and forth as you went about the routine of your days. It wasn’t hard to see why Aunt Robin was so fond of him. He was the best sort of neighbor to have and an ideal kind of man: respectful, honest, and hardworking. An EMS helicopter pilot for one of the local hospitals, who talked proudly about his job without being arrogant. A devoted father and friend. It was no great wonder that you were hiding a hopeless crush on him.

For all the time the two of you spent together, it felt like there was still a barrier between you, like the fence that separated your yards. Something unbreachable that kept you firmly apart from the realm that encompassed him and his friends. It was likely that Frankie was just doing the neighborly thing, looking out for you as he had your aunt and nothing more. Which only made you feel ridiculous when you imagined being invited into their inner circle. Instead, you would simply pretend you belonged as you eavesdropped on his life from here.

Across the fence, Alamo has been making a pest of himself, stealing snacks from Vivi’s tiny fingers and begging for handouts from the grill. Santi shoos him away with a stern, “¡Vete!” and a clack of the tongs in his hands until the dog retreats. He makes another round of the deck, nearly tripping Joanna, Benny’s fiancé, as he nudges against the back of her knees seeking to be pet. Then trying to scramble into Laura’s lap as she drops to sit beside her husband, until Will pushes the pooch down and playful swats at his hindquarters as he sulks away.

Thoroughly deflected by everyone in the nearby vicinity he skitters down from the deck and trots to the fence line. He plants himself inches from it, yowling dejectedly in your direction until you turn to acknowledge him.

“What’s the matter, pup?” you coo, setting aside your trowel and packing soil around the roots of your freshly planted chrysanthemums. You spread out a new layer of mulch around the stems before giving him a sympathetic look, “Are you being ignored?”

Frankie spots you as he’s returning from the kitchen, a Capri Sun in hand to soothe away his daughter’s tears since his furry troublemaker had gobbled up the last of her goldfish crackers. He watches you toss aside your gardening gloves and scoot up to the chain link to dote on the offending beast, sliding the patio door shut behind him. You beam him a radiant, pearly smile as his gaze lingers and catches your notice as he crosses the deck towards Viviana. You only break it when Alamo summons your attention back to him with a throaty whinge.

Still, he can’t look away as he passes the drink pouch to his daughter’s waiting hands, dropping into a deck chair. You let out a laugh as the dog licks at your fingers through the gaps in the fence. It’s a bright, tinkling sound that makes a tightness pull in his chest. To say that he’s infatuated by you is an understatement. You’ve engraved yourself into his quiet life. Though you may have come along to care for your ailing aunt, he’s found himself and his daughter often the equal recipients of your adoration and kindness.

There’s always a small part of him that feels unworthy of it. Despite regular visits with his therapist, he struggles to accept that he deserves the life he has, with his beautiful daughter, his strong friendship with the boys, and this newfound connection to you. He’s haunted by the demons of his past and a gnawing sense of inadequacy. Still, he tries to remind himself to be grateful. Especially where Vivi is concerned; his baby girl thriving with how you devote your free hours to her. It’s a tempered joy that makes his heart ache when he realizes how much she’s needed more than just his presence in her life.

He thinks about the way you teach her the names of the flowers in his yard, leading her slowly around the perimeter as her tiny hands brush across petals and fern fronds while she repeats them back in her soft toddler stammer. Or how you sit on the front porch with him in the cool hours of early morning as he takes groggy sips of black coffee. Pulling Vivi’s hair up into fancy ponytails, french braids, and poofy buns before he carts her off to daycare, while he listens half-awake to your instructions on how it’s done. You’ve even taken up your aunt’s place at the fence, waiting for them to get home in the evenings so you can smooch her cheek and tell them both goodnight.

It feels so perfect and natural at times that he’s constantly looking for more ways to be near you. To take a stroll around the block with him at sunset, take a day with him and Vivi at the beach, or to have you join in when the boys and their ladies come for a weekend barbecue. But just like the day you moved in, he’s hopelessly tongue-tied and unable to parse out the words, worried it will come out wrong or that his feelings will be on full display when he’d rather keep them close to the chest for now. His divorce has left him with a residual vulnerability that’s made him averse to emotional displays for fear of censure.

“Okay, I’ve got to get back to it, buddy,” you tell Alamo as you rise to your feet, wiping his slobber onto your jeans. He pouts and begins to pace in front of you, stopping to gaze expectantly at your back door and make small whimpers. You know he’s looking for Gatsby to keep him entertained, now that you have to leave him. The two of them like to run each other ragged, sprinting up and down the fence line together with reckless abandon for hours.

Normally your canine would already be out here with you, but he has a penchant for rolling in freshly tilled dirt, so you’ve kept him inside under Aunt Robin’s supervision while you did your planting. The hound dog seems disgruntled by this fact, continuing to pace and making a series of upset sounds at you. You murmur a “Sorry pup,” as you gather up your tools and move on to another section of the garden where you’d spotted some weeds poking up through the mocha brown mulch. He’ll just have to get over his disappointment.

You turn your back, plucking at the offending weeds as his pouting cries go quiet. You assume he’s gone back to being a nuisance to the people in his own yard until a loud bark shatters the quiet hum of insects and softly spoken chatter from Frankie’s deck. A cacophony of voices rise in alarm as you swivel back just in time to see Alamo take a flying leap over the chain link, paws nearly grazing the top as he crests to the other side. His body makes a soft whump as he lands in the grass.

“Jesus!” you shout at the sight of it before the dog is bearing down on you, his wet nose snuffling at your ankles as you try to grab a hold of him. He skirts from your grasp, backing away a few feet before leaning into a bow, rump raised playfully in the air as his tail swishes furiously behind him. You crouch and try to summon him to you, “What’s gotten into you, hm?”

Frankie stares, dumbfounded, for only a moment before he’s jogging in your direction to help. When the dog refuses to come to you, you step towards him instead, but he bolts at your approach. Meanwhile, your neighbor scrambles over the fence and into your yard much less gracefully than his pet. His brows furrow in irritation as he tries to sneak up on him, but the dog turns at the last second, spotting him and darting away as Frankie curses, “Alamo! ¡Maldito perro! Get your ass over here!”

The hound likes this game of cat and mouse since it means the both of you are now giving him your full attention as you pursue him through the grass. Baiting you in by letting you get mere inches from him before he zips off at the last second.

“Mo!” you holler and he turns his head back at the use of his nickname but doesn’t slow down as you continue to follow him, “This is my side of the fence, not yours. Get over here!”

He’s unfettered by your statement, slipping through Frankie’s fingers as he loops back around the yard, stopping briefly to jump on your back door and paw at the glass. The excitement of it all has drawn Frankie’s company from the deck for a closer look and your aunt to the door to watch it unfold. You see Gatsby from the corner of your eye, fogging up the glass as his snotty nose presses against it. You can hear him whine, displeased that you’re out there having fun without him.

“Honey?” Aunt Robin asks through the screen of the door, “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Auntie,” you reply with a breathless huff, side-eying Frankie as he dives unsuccessfully towards his dog again, “Alamo just...came for a visit.”

He moves beside you, leaning onto his knees to recover from the chase, as Alamo pauses several feet from the two of you, grumbling an apology, “Sorry about this.”

“Not your fault he’s a pain in the ass,” you smirk, trying to form some kind of game plan to lure him in, “We could try to bribe him?”

Frankie gives you a nod as you quick-step towards the house. You keep treats on a shelf just inside the door as a reward for Gatsby when he does his business and doesn’t destroy any of Aunt Robin’s flowers. The pup in question is still watching you through the glass, alone now that your aunt has confirmed nothing is amiss, and returned to the other room.

“Back up Gats,” you warn, cracking the door open just enough to reach into the box without giving the Goldendoodle space to escape. Alamo hasn’t missed out on this though, yapping at him in an effort to incite his friend to join him in terrorizing you and Frankie. Which successfully spurs Gatsby on. He wedges himself against your legs, pushing with his full weight until you are stumbling back and he is barging out the door. You let out a sigh as you walk back to Frankie’s side, “And now there’s two.”

The both of them are running laps through your yard, letting out barks and yips and playful growls as they zip by at breakneck speed. Frankie takes a lunge towards Alamo as he passes by, but his reflexes aren’t a match for the canine. The hound easily avoids him at the last second, but Gatsby doesn’t pick up on his friend’s detour soon enough to do the same, trying to zip between Frankie’s slightly splayed legs and knocking him off balance. He throws his arms out for stability and you instinctively reach for him, but it only ends up in throwing him further off-kilter as his weight pulls you both down.

Frankie lets out an aggravated groan as his back slams into the ground, having tried to twist in a way that his body ends up as a buffer between you and the dirt. He takes the brunt of the fall, as you end up half across his chest, your head knocking hard into his chin. He tilts his head to look you over as you sit up, rubbing softly at the crown of your skull, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, brushing your hair out of your face. He watches as it cascades over your shoulder, dogs forgotten, as he’s struck by the thought of how easy it might be from this position to curl his fingers in the strands at the nape of your neck and pull you down to kiss him. Curious about what your skin might taste like if he were to pepper kisses down your jaw and lave at the pulse point of your neck.

His eyes bore into yours, rich orbs of hickory blazed with amber flecks as the sun catches in the iris. He smells of spicy cologne, charcoal smoke, and sweat. You give him the softest smile as you glimpse briefly at his lips and wonder if they’re as warm and soft as they look. Then up to his mop of curls that have come loose from underneath his cap in the fall. You briefly consider trying to twist them into ringlets like you’ve done with his daughter's hair, just as someone nearby clears their throat loudly. You both look up to see Benny leaning on one of the fence posts, a cheesy grin scrawled across his face.

“Fish!” He prods at his friend, “If you wanted to sweep her off of her feet, there are better ways to do it.”

“Fuck you, Benjamin,” Frankie spits as he flips him the bird, rolling onto his side before standing, his back and knees complaining at the effort. His other friends, at least, had the decency to keep their teasing comments to themselves. He leans down and offers you a hand up before scooping his hat off the ground and replacing it on his head. The dogs are still completely caught up in their game, tearing playfully through your backyard. He doesn’t want to impose on you, but after that last disastrous attempt, he doesn’t want to try and wrangle Alamo again until the furry beast has gotten this burst of energy out of his system. He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he glances back to you, “Can he just, I dunno, stay over here until he gets bored? I’m too old to be chasing him all over hell and back. I’ll come back for him after he wears himself out.”

“I don’t think Aunt Robin will mind,” you agree with a small shrug of your shoulder, just as resigned to let them entertain themselves as he is. You’ll just have to go back to weeding the garden and gazing longingly into his yard. You try not to let your disappointment read on your face, plastering on a teasing smile as you motion towards the fence, “Are you planning on hopping back over that way, or do you want to go the long way this time?”

“I’ll go around please,” Frankie chuckles quietly, “My back can’t take any more abuse.”

Leaving the dogs to their own devices, you walk side-by-side with him towards the back door. You lead him through the house and out the front, a silent wave to your aunt as the two of you pass by. Just out of the front door he turns to you suddenly. He stumbles on the words for a moment, pink tongue peeking out between his lips before he speaks, “Listen, do you, maybe, want to come over for a bit? I at least owe you a drink for putting up with my menace of a dog. I promise the company isn’t terrible either. Benny’s a pain but the rest of them are decent enough.”

You beam him one of your million-watt smiles at the offer, “I’d love that! Let me just pop back in to let my aunt know.”

His eyes follow you as you disappear back inside, heart fit to burst. He’s not sure what this is between the two of you or where it might go, but this seems as good a first step as any.

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Next

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EVERYTHING TAGLIST: @green-socks @dihra-vesa @patternedlantern @writeforfandoms @ezrasbirdie @salome-c @kirsteng42

FRANKIE TAGLIST: @thegreenkid

MSOTF TAGLIST: @javierpinme @frankie-catfish-morales

If you want to be tagged in future chapters, send me an ask or if you're interested in getting onto the list for everything/specific characters, fill out my taglist form.

To all the fic writers out there that are not currently writing. Either it's because of RL, health, writer's block or something has happened that have disheartened you. Thank you for what you've written, and don't ever feel pressured or stressed - fanfic should be something good for all of us; both reader and writer. You're more important than what you do, but thank you for what you've done!

Why tagging female reader fics is so important

I’m starting to get really fed up with the lack of tagging in this fandom, so here’s a quick explanation as to why it’s so important to tag your female reader fics as female reader.

1- This should be common knowledge, but apparently not: not every person who reads fanfic is female.

It’s become standard to assume readers are female. And honestly, it’s just flat out disrespectful. It shows us non-female readers that you don’t care enough about our comfort in the fandom to do something as simple as put “character x F!reader” instead of “Character x reader”. It's incredibly othering and disrespectful towards those of us who are not female.

2- “Reader” can easily be assumed to be gender neutral.

It very rarely is, but there’s no way of knowing whether something is going to be gender neutral or not if you don’t tag it. It’s INCREDIBLY frustrating to start a fic and find out a few paragraphs in (or worse, halfway through), that it’s female reader. Not only is it frustrating, it can be triggering to some people: it can trigger gender dysphoria in trans people, bring up trauma from cis male readers that may have experience abuse related to their sexual orientation, and many, many more people.

3- It’s harmful to trans people.

Many AFAB trans people (trans men and AFAB non-binary people) experience gender dysphoria. It’s seen as incredibly dehumanising to misgender a trans person, and that’s essentially what you’re doing by assuming that all readers are female. At best, misgendering a trans person reminds them they don’t fit the cishet expectation society has of them. At worse, it triggers extreme feelings of gender dysphoria, memories of past (and current) abuse, and reminds us that representation is a luxury we rarely experience. It’s not just the pronouns either; sometimes I’ll read a fic and it’ll describe body parts that trigger my gender dysphoria (breasts, hips, reproductive parts, etc.). As a cis person reading this, it might not seem like a big deal. But trust me: it’s a huge deal. Being misgendered takes a HUGE toll on a trans person’s mental health. We spent a huge part of our lives being misgendered, pretending to be someone we’re not, and to read a self-insert fic and have the reader be gendered as female reminds us of the time when our lives were at the lowest. Trans people who don’t pass as their gender identity, who are non-binary, or who cannot transition, are misgendered all day, every day, and for many of us, fandom is the only escape… until we’re trying to read a fic and are misgendered there too.

It’s not as simple as “it’s not for us”. For me, it’s sometimes an inconvenience. Other days, it triggers my dysphoria so bad I totally shut down and can’t function for hours on end. And my gender dysphoria is much less intense than many trans people’s.

4- It’s not difficult.

It’s just not. It’s as simple as putting “f!reader” at the top of your fic. If you want to be extra awesome, you can put it in the tags too. Not doing it shows that you’re too lazy to respect people who aren’t comfortable reading female reader fics.

5- It’s a waste of our time.

You’re not getting any extra notes by doing this. You’re just not. If anything, you’re losing prospective readers. As a non-binary person, I occasionally read f!reader fics. But if I can’t mentally prepare for it in advance, I’m not going to be able to finish reading. Those of us who can’t read any female reader fics won’t be very likely to read any of your other fics, even if those are actually gender neutral. So we have to get partway through reading a fic that isn’t for us when we could have just scrolled past it. You’re proving to non-female readers that your blog isn’t a safe space for us, and it’s very unlikely you’ll get a second chance from that reader.

Please know: I’m not trying to personally attack anyone. If you didn’t know it was harmful, that’s okay, just start tagging your fics. It’s not difficult, and it means the world to non-female readers. I'm trying to be as polite and patient as I can with this, but I'm getting to the point where I'm done asking nicely. It's pushing a lot of people out of the fandom, and honestly I'm tempted to leave tumblr myself because of it.

You don't have to write for male or gender neutral readers, but telling people the reader is intended to be female is not optional.

More then you'll ever know

Din djarin x fem reader

Summary: the reader and din have a hard to get along with relationship, mostly because her teasing and joke cracking nature. But one night din realizes he can't keep pushing his true feelings for reader aside.

Warnings: mild language. Fluff.

Since I said I'd write more for din. I gift you... DIN!!!!

*Not my gifs!*

If you had a coin for every time din wrecked his ship, you'd be a rich woman. He was a good pilot, he could maneuver his way through a canyon and manage to survive, but he was a little reckless. And whenever someone could easily go over that canyon, his mind never seen that ruote and instead takes the hardest path possible. Which is what left you, him, and little Grogu standing outside the razor crest while you chuckle at his pacing, hands on his hips while his visor was focused on the ground.

The planet he crash landed on was a icey cold snow planet, it was freezing out, and the fact the sun was long gone and replaced by the moon didn't help.

"oh c'mon din, I can fix this ship tomorrow morning... A slight delay to tython won't hurt our adventure" you try and reassure him, amusement thick in your voice. This little crash gave you the opportunity to further more tease him and his piloting skills, something he hated. But it was fun seeing him get all defensive over his flying, you'd even say cute.

"we can't stay out here, the ships inoperative. We'll freeze to death out here" he stresses, finally coming to a stop as he looks at you, then his gaze falling on the innocent little child that plays in the snow.

"before you crashed us all the way out here I thought I saw a town that way" you point in the direction where you had thought you seen a town while you spiraled out of control. Thankfully though the ship wasn't damaged to bad and no one was hurt. "we can rent a place to sleep tonight and I'll wake up early in the morning and fix the ship" you shrug while scooping Grogu up and taking his icey little hands in yours and warming them.

Din sighs, something he seemed to do a lot you've noticed ever since you started working for him. Not only did you serve as a mechanic and caretaker for Grogu, but also a skilled medic. It was no secret din loathed droids, sometimes he found himself struggling to patch his own self up when injured greatly, so he hired you to assist him in medical ways instead of seeking help from a med Droid. You helped him greatly in medical and mechanical ways, soon he found the child and you helped in nanny ways.

Din turns around, back facing you now as he looks towards where you said a town was. The sky just barely illuminated by the dim glow of lights from the civilization. Facing you once more now he walks closer through the snow, gloved thump stroking Grogu's cold cheek.

"it will be a long walk... Probably even a days time..." he trailed of in thought, taking his cape off in the process and handing it to you so you can wrap Grogu up. "we'd have to use my jetpack to make it there tonight" he sighed out, watching how you wrap the cape around the little one. Covering up his mouth and ears along with his little body. He was swaddled up snugly.

You grin at din, "you're just looking for an excuse to hold me aren't you Mando?" you tease him, loving how he always stuttered and got nervous. He always retaliated with a harsh comment or the silent treatment, brushing your harmless flirting off.

Oh how you fell hard for the man though, he was something special. He acted like the toughest bounty hunter in the galaxy, he was really, but once you got to know the man under the armor? He was a big sweetheart, a softie who was passionate about little things and protective over the ones he considered friends, the one's he loved. You grew feelings for him one particular night spent on Nevarro, he was meeting with karga, in a cantina. You had joined him of course because you needed a drink, once you was both in there this one man wouldn't leave you alone, flirting, eyeing you like he was a starved man and you was a feast, his hands shortly falling on the small of your back and trailing down lower much to your dismay.

Now you was a good fighter, but before you had the chance to break the man's wrist? Din had done it for you, grabbing the man's hand and twisting it, showing his vibroblade against the man's throat, "touch her again and I'll kill you" was what made the man flee without a word. Wrist broke. He offered you a nod and made you stay by his side. It had made you fall for him hard, the feelings only growing as time went on.

"I could always leave you out here to freeze" din shot back at your earlier comment, he said it more teasingly, a welcome surprise to you.

"like you could do that, I know under all that beskar you have a soft spot for me din" you smile at him innocently, Grogu smiling as if he agrees with you.

"for him maybe" din was blushing hard under the helmet, heart beating rapidly as if he was afraid. Truly he was, he feared that if he let himself love you like he so desperately wanted, you'd leave him, that the galaxy would rip you away from him like every one else he ever loved.

Perhaps that's why he put up the facade he wore good when you flirted with him, acting as if he couldn't stand you, as if he loathed your presence. If only you could see the way his brown eyes sparkle with wonder and longing when he watches you work or play with Grogu.

You scoff with a smile, acting as if his little retort didn't sting a little. "let's get going before we freeze to death then" you say, hating how your heart skips a beat at how close he stood now, shuffling in the snow to jerk you flush against his warm side. The beskar was ice cold though, making you gasp with a shiver.

"hold on to Grogu tightly" he warns, worried you'd drop him. You wrap him up in your right arm, holding him against your chest tightly, little green hands fisting your short tightly as he snuggled up against your chest.

Din wraps a arm around your waist, his other placing a gloved hand over your arm that held Grogu. "are you ready?" he asks, pulling you against him tightly. You felt a little nervous, not to fond of heights. Din noticed and chuckles. "don't worry mesh'la, I won't drop you... Maybe" he teased. Saying the nickname he gave you, you had yet to learn.

Snapping your head towards him with wide eye's you give him a fearful look, "maybe!?" you didn't get a response because he had already taken off, forcing a shriek from you and your arm to hold him tighter. Heart rapidly beating as you closed your eyes shut. You try and ignore how his touch sends a tingling warmth through your whole body, how you wished he'd hold you more....

Grogu squeaks out what sounds to be a laugh, his smile and wide eye's enjoying being high up like this, but once you open your eye's and look down, you knew you'd made a mistake. "oh no, no, no, no" you muttered, burying your face in din's neck.

"don't worry, we're almost at the town, I can see it" din reassures you, although he wanted to tease and poke fun at your silly fear like you do him most time's. He would never do such a thing to you, he hated how your small whimper tumbled from your lips. Soon though, you arrived at the town and he landed, only stumbled a little.

Practically clinging to him you refuse to let go, "are we on the ground?" you murmur, Grogu making a little sad noise upon the adventure in the sky ending.

"yes, you can let go now" he pulls you off of him and backs away. You open your eyes and sigh, happy to be on the ground again. Holding Grogu with both hands now, you walk with din to town.

The place wasn't that big, but it also wasn't small. There was markets, houses and one small place that looked like a cantina. The people all wore heavy duty clothes, prepared for the cold. But you wore a flimsy old t-shirt and cargo pants. You shiver while walking behind din, people giving you looks.

Din finally comes across a large building, entering the building you sigh at the slight warmth it provides. The room was near empty besides a fireplace and two chairs, a large door by the left wall. Behind a counter a older woman worked, Grey hair and aged face. She gives you and din a kind smile.

"hello! Are you looking to rent a room?" she asks. Din leans on the counter and nods.

"two rooms" he spoke with his stoic tone, the modulater making his voice sound deeper, more intimidating.

"I'm afraid there is only one room... We've gotten a lot of traveler's this week" the older woman said, watching how din sighs and his shoulders slump.

Were you really that annoying to be around? You shake the thought away and sigh, looking down at Grogu who let's his gaze flicker across the room curiously.

"I guess we'll take that one then" he huffed while sliding some credits across the table, soon taking the card to enter the room he just bought for the night.

He walks over to the door you spotted earlier and opens it with a swip of the card, leading you to a hallway full of various other doors. Following him he stops in front of a certain one, swiping the card as the whoosh was heard and the door slides open.

He sighs and flips the lights on, stopping instantly. His abrupt stop makes you walk into his back. "owe! You nearly made me fall" you snap and walk beside him, "why did you stop all the su -

"there's only one bed?" he spoke as if someone had just slapped him across the face, you look up and noticed that there was indeed, one bed.

"I can always sleep in the floor" you shrug and set Grogu down, letting him explore the room. He instantly crawls in bed though. "not anything new" you flash him a sarcastic smile. Referring to how din made you sleep in the floor of the crest during your early days of knowing him. Finally though he noticed how stiff and in pain you was and bought you a small cot to keep in the cargo area of the crest.

"I can take the floor, you sleep in the bed" he starts taking his cape from Grogu, tucking him into the large bed fit for almost three people as he folds the fabric up and sits in the floor.

Scoffing you stand before him with a hand on your hip, "like hell I'm letting you sleep in the floor, we can both obviously fit in the bed" you point out, not having a problem with sharing the bed with him. Not one problem at all in fact.

"like hell I'm sleeping beside you" he retorts coldly, his words striking you hard as your face fell. Turning away from him so he doesn't see his words sting, you shrug.

"I for one don't have a problem with sharing a bed, but if you want you're back hurting you tomorrow that's fine by me" you crawl into the bed after kicking your boots off, Grogu fast asleep already. Once under the covers you turn your back toward din.

Why he hated you so much was beyond you, but alas, he hates you.

You try and not let it bother you, but after a few minutes of silence you turn on your side to face him again. He wore his beskar still, it had to be uncomfortable. "do you always sleep in the armor?" you mutter while hoping he wasn't asleep.

"only whenever people are around" he grumbled while his visor falls on you. You knew he refused to show his face, something you always respected, but you hated for him to sleep uncomfortably because you....

"you can take it off din and sleep in the bed... I know how you're back hurts you, you old man" you joke lightly, knowing he was older then you. And although he hated how you always cracked jokes either with him or about him, he knew it was harmless teasing. So.... He sighs and stands up.

"I'm leaving the helmet on" he grunts while slowly taking his beskar off, gently setting it down neatly. You watch with a adoring look, mind to tired to realize you was doing so, but din saw it. The sight of your dazzling eyes practically glued to him making his face flush in a beautiful shade of red. But thank the maker beyond that he wore a helmet to hide it.

"okay but if you ever decide it's uncomfortable to sleep in you can trust me enough to take it off....I'd never look at you without it on y'know" you say while he now stood in his underclothes. A long sleeved black sweater and heavy duty pants. Taking his gloves off your eyes are met with the familiar tanned skin you loved, having seen his abdomen and arms bare before do to attending his wounds countless times. It seemed he wasn't only reckless when flying the razor crest, but aslo fighting a bounty apparently.

Din slowly walks shuffles over to the bed, almost shyly. Waiting for you to scoot to the other side. You do so after scooping Grogu up, being sure not to wake him as you placed him in the middle of the bed, him snuggling up to you in his sleep. Din crawls in bed shortly and makes himself comfortable under the covers, laid out on his back. His head though turns toward you.

"I know I can trust you, you haven't given me reason not to.... I just - I don't want to risk taking it off" he stuttered, you could easily detect he was indeed nervous. But why? You was determined to find out.

"I understand, I'm not pressuring you into taking it off" you giggle, subconsciously stroking Grogu's little hand.

"I know...." he whispers, his visor still on you as you looked at him with soft eye's. "I'm sorry if I've ever been... Harsh with you" he forced the words out, eye's locked on your own, the y/e/c eye's he'd always find himself lost in....

You was speechless, didn't know how to respond to his abrupt apology. It was unexpected, here you thought he hated you, found you to be nothing to him but a medic, mechanic, and caretaker for Grogu. Whereas you saw din as a friend, someone to rely on, someone to talk to whenever need be. Sure you teased him a lot and made some jokes up about little things he does, like being a big softie or cute when he plays with Grogu. You never meant no harm, but din always made it out that way, pushing you away or making harsh remarks whenever you had done so....

Blinking at him you let a soft grin tug at your lips, "you don't have to apologize, I know I'm a little irritating and a pain in the ass to be around" you shrug and look down at Grogu, heart full of love at the sight of his peaceful slumber.

"you're not that bad... Maybe a little bit of a pain in the ass" although he was hidden by the helmet, you could hear the smile in his voice. You chuckle quietly and look back up at him.

"you're something else din..." you whisper do to Grogu shifting around, rolling over towards din. His heart swells at how Grogu laid his little hand on his bicep, a smile on the little one's face as he slept.

"is that a good thing or bad thing?" din spoke just as quiet as you did, modulater making his voice even deeper as he whispers, a husky sound you found yourself hanging onto with a undeniable yearning. How you wish you could hear it without the helmet....

"it's a good thing, definitely a good thing" you smile up at him, the sight enough to make his heart flutter wildy. "you big softie" you murmur, unable to stop yourself from letting the words roll off your tongue.

"I'm not a softie, I'm a bounty hunter" he knew you didn't mean anything bad by the nickname you've given him. But he couldn't help the way it sometimes irked him, why? He didn't know. Because sometimes he saw what you meant when you called him a softie, deep down inside he knew it was slightly true.

"to the galaxy yes, but to him... You're a softie. You spoil him rotten din!" you laugh a little loudly but managed to stifle them. "you treat him as if he's the most fragile, precious cargo to ever be created, you always buy him little things whenever you come back from hunts, and you always let him cuddle you" you grin at him with so much fondness din's heart nearly beats out of his chest with how gorgeous you are, glowing with joy, smile as bright as any star he's ever seen. "you're a softie, no denying it"

"and you are definitely a pain in the ass" he chuckles and shakes his head, visor still looking over at you as he laid on his back. "but even though you can really get on my nerves...i do have a soft spot for you" he confessed, nervous all the sudden as his hands fiddle with the end of his long sleeve shirt.

The smile on your face widens into one of pure happiness, eye's staring at din with love. He knew you was fond of him, and he was quite smitten with you, but he was afraid.... Afraid of losing you, afraid of watching you leave him in more ways then one.

But he was done being afraid, he couldn't live another day without holding you close, staring into those eyes of yours he adores. He wanted to hold you forever, kiss you until his lungs beg him for air, love you for as long as you or the galaxy will let him. Because din djarin was didn't want to spend another day without doing any of these things again.

"I love you" he blurts out, desperately. His voice holding nothing but truth, he sits up in the bed, careful not to wake Grogu as he does so, back pressed against the headboard while he only looks down at you with love. "I - I love you so much...." his voice cracks at the end as he stuttered.

You sit up fast, smile morphing into a more dazed gap, like a fish who was taken out of water. "din... I love you too. I've -

"Im so sorry I pushed you away and would always give you the cold shoulder but dank farrik y/n I can't go another day without saying it.... I love you" he rushed out, cutting your words off.

Tears fill your eye's, ones of joy, happiness. Heart overflowing with love for him. You smile so wide it hurts as you can see how nervous he has become. You gently grab his hand to stop his fidgeting, placing a kiss to each of his fingers. The act sends electricity through his veins, warmth over his whole being as his heart swells at the softness of your lips against his skin.

"I love you din... I always have, ever since you had asked me to work for you, I love you so damn much" you laugh breathlessly, tears threatening to fall.

"you and him" he nods down at Grogu, "are the only things in this galaxy that mean more to me then anyone could ever know...." he muttered, taking his hand out of your own, your eye's widen as you see him place both hands on his helmet, ready to take it off. Upon reflex, you screw your eyes shut, making din feel a wave of affection wash over him knowing you had so much respect for him. "open you're eye's" he said, but it sounded so much more different, much more richer and real.

Reluctantly, you open your eye's. Heart skipping a beat at the sight before you, two brown eye's full of love staring back at you, glossy. His dark hair a mess as his scruffy face was one purely adorable, handsome nose and charming jaw. Maker was din djarin a beautiful, handsome man. You slowly crawl more towards him, sitting in his lap, being sure not to disturb Grogu as you gently trace every detail of his face, starting at the few lines on his forehead, down his gorgeous nose, giggling once you find your fingertips brush against his mustache. He smiles, revealing his dimples. You smile up into his brown eyes and can't resist anymore.

You press a firm but gentle kiss on his lips, soft and warm as you always imagined them to be. Your palms press flush against his cheeks, scruffy little patches of hair tickling them. Din's hand lands on the nape of your neck as his other finds purchase on your hip. His eyes fluttering shut as his nose bumbs against yours. This kiss was perfect, as if it was the seal to your and his fate. You never wanted to live without him by your side. Hesitantly, you pull away from his soft lips, giggling whenever he chases your own.

"you are the most handsome man in the galaxy din" you breathlessly say, his eye's sparkling. It's then you noticed the golden specks, amber swirls amongst the brown of his gorgeous eyes

"I'm not much of a sight cyar'ika" he strokes your cheek with his thumb, so much affection swimming in his eye's. His soft smile bringing out his dimples again, he was truly something special....

"you're more then a sight din... You're more beautiful then anything else in the galaxy" you say, running a hand through his hair, fingers lightly scratching at his scalp. He relaxes with a content sigh.

"you're the beautiful one here" he smiles up at you adorably, your heart fluttering. You lean your forehead on his and grin. "i love you..." he whispers in his husky deep voice you couldn't ever tire of.

"I love you more" you say back while placing a kiss atop his nose. He scrunched his face up and chuckles at you, the sound even more beautiful now that it came out natural. "but we better get sleep since I've got a long day of mechanic work tomorrow, because a certain brown eyed beauty is a reckless flyer" you poke his cheek while crawling out of his lap, crawling back into your spot in the bed.

Din scoffs before scooting closer, his forehead nearly touching yours now as you both placed your hands on Grogu gently. "I'm a good pilot, you have to admit it" he grins at you, loving how you roll your eye's at him.

"I know you're a good pilot, but you're reckless din... No denying it" you kiss his nose again making him sigh dreamily, "I love you're nose..." you yawn, smiling at him afterwards with a sleepy grin.

"I've noticed, if you don't stop kissing it I'm gonna put the helmet back on" he jokes while he yawns himself now, eye's drooping as sleep crept up on him slowly.

"oh, do you want me to stop kissing you?" you say with your usual teasing tone.

"no! I'm not saying that" he instantly said, almost to loud. You laugh at his reaction and shake your head.

"I was joking din... I'd never stop kissing you" you peck his lips, pulling away to quick for his liking. But he watches as your eyes slowly flutter shut, no matter how hard you tried to keep them open.

This was exactly what din wanted, his little family in his arms. He smiles down at Grogu who snores lightly and then looks to you, who slept peacefully now. He was beyond lucky to have both of you, and he'd do whatever it takes to keep you both safe, because he loved you both more then anyone would ever know...

___________________________________________

Everyone should know the international sign for Help Me. Let’s make this famous!!

Reblog if you are bisexual, pansexual, or asexual, if you support bisexuals, pansexuals, and asexuals, or

There’s no third, funny option, just the first two because it’s good to just support people because they deserve support.

no one:

my kidnapper returning me after listening to me talk about Pedro Pascal for three hours:

Forever & Always// F.Morales

frankie x female reader (slightly no use of y/n or she/her pronouns just the word sister)

warnings: angst, language, tension, alcohol mention, mention of claustrophobia and slight description of anxiety, and language

summary: you moved away from your family and boyfriend at eighteen. when you come back home for your parents 50th anniversary you weren't expecting a rekindling moment with a certain pilot.

authors note: THE ENDING IS EVERYTHING AND IM SO PROUD OF THIS FIC! PLEASE LMK WHAT YALL THINK XOXO

masterlist

They say you’ll never forget your first. First crush, kiss, date, love and heartbreak. However for you, you could never seem to get rid of him. But you weren’t complaining. Francisco Morales was more than your first for everything, he was someone who held more than one could handle- he was your rock. Well that was until the day that “you” ruined everything.

Your parents were known as the sweethearts of your hometown. Marrying right after graduation, they settled in the same town and brought up you and your sister Em. Your parents were involved in everything, your mom being a teacher and your dad being a sheriff. It was hard to blend in to say the least. But there was an ongoing loop. Everyone graduated and stayed home. Your older sister, Em, even became a part of that treacherous loop. And you hated that loop. You always dreamed of big cities, fashion, traveling the world, but mostly just getting out of town. And you had promised yourself that nothing would hold you back from pursuing that. Sadly Frankie thought he could have kept you a little bit longer. But things change- actually a lot has changed since you’ve been back home for more than a weekend stay. Now you were traveling back home for your parent’s 50th anniversary extravaganza. And nothing could help prepare you for the next few days.

Your plane had landed around one in the afternoon. Grabbing your luggage you made your way over to the area where Em said she would pick you up. Looking around you didn;t see her red car. Dialing her number you were ready to direct her to your terminal.

“Hello?” Em said on the other line. She sounded groggy and as if she wasn't in the car.

“Terminal 47 remember.” You said angrily, Knowing she forgot.

“Shit.” She said, then another voice was heard.

“Babe what time is it?” You gasped at the sound of Pope's voice.

“Hold on, you first forgot your little sister's arrival at the airport, and you have Pope in your bed Em! When did he come back? What happened to independency?” You said rather loudly into the mic.

“Shut up. You're too damn loud.”

“It’s literally tourist season, getting a cab into town will cost me tripple Em.”

“Well don’t call the Millers, they went fishing this morning. You could call-” She said even more groggily. But you hung up the phone before she could finish her sentence.

You couldn’t take your sister right now. You love her most times but she would've killed you if you did this to her. You were gonna call the Millers but if they were busy there was only one person you could call. Hearing the phone ring you were ready to hang up. But then he answered.

“Hey, what's up.”

“Quick question: when did my sister get back with Pope?” You said rather too fast.

A small laugh left him, “That’s a long story.”

“Well I have another question for you.” You said getting nervous.

“Shoot.”

“Well Em, forgot that I was flying in today to surprise my parents and well I’m kind of stranded at the airport. Is there any way you can send someone-” Suddenly you were cut off.

“What terminal are you at?”

“Terminal 47.” You said softly while releasing the breath you were holding.

“It’ll be 20 minutes.” He said.

“Thank you Frankie.” You heard a small yeah and hung up the phone. And thinking to yourself. Yay reunion time.

✰✰✰

18 minutes later, that infamous truck he insists on always keeping, though it's as old as you, rolled up to the curb in front of you. He got out of the truck and damn does he look like the same senior in high school you were swooning over. I mean he’s aged, but not badly. He’s the same Francisco.

“I owe you one.” You said as he got closer.

“No worries, I feel bad about Em and Pope doing you like that.” He said giving you a side hug and grabbing your suitcase. He quickly opened your door, still never letting you touch the door handles in his truck. You slid in and felt a wave of nerves wash over you. The last time you were alone with Frankie was years ago when you guys broke up as he dropped you off at the airport. But you remembered time has passed and everything should be decent now. Well that’s what you hope for. Frankie had finally made it into the truck. He took a breath and looked at you.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hi.” You said matching his level,

“So um how long are you staying?” He asked cutting to the chase.

“That's a long story. I’m not sure to be honest.” You said, Frankie nodded and began driving. Fuck the tension just grew higher.

“So um Pope and Em what happened there?” You said wanting to clear the silence.

“Well after Benny’s championship fight, there were lots of beers and then all of a sudden it was like prom all over again with them. Running away for a week and then committing to another relationship. Except this time it seems permanent.” He said constantly looking over to see you in the passenger seat like it was prom night again.

“Dear god, no wonder she didn’t update me on the fight at all. She was with him and didn't want me to find out.” You said chuckling.

Em and Pope were like your parents except they had more problems than a math textbook. They had gotten together in high school and that’s how your friend group formed. You being the younger sister of Em always having to tag along with her fr town events and football games. None of the boys minded but it was the classic my sister's boyfriend's best friend is the one for me. You became Frankie’s date for every outing, and soon you put a label on you both. But when it was your turn to leave for college Frankie and you split. Heartbroken ever since that day. Because you had to stay loyal to him when he left but he couldn’t take the fact that you wanted to leave your small town for good.

“You could get ready at my place and we could go to your parents together. That's only if you're ok with it?” He said.

“Yeah that sounds great. Thank you again Frankie.”

✰✰✰

Frankie’s house was exactly how you imagined it. Pictures and memorabilia everywhere, the smell of fresh wood and sunflowers. He had a small vegetable garden on the side of his house, and he used to always dream of having a house with a pool, so it wasn’t a surprise that you saw a good size one in the backyard.

You walked in more and saw a bunch of pictures on a wall. Glazing over them you saw some with you, and most of them were of him in the army. You walked over to the couches where there were more pictures. In a frame there was a picture of you two on your graduation day. Frankie wore your cap as you kissed his cheek. You smiled at that memory. It was the day after he came back from bootcamp, with him surprising you, both of you worried he wasn't gonna make it.

Frankie had shown you his bathroom. Where you got ready. Leaving the bathroom you walked out to see Frankie waiting for you.

“Wow you look amazing.” He said in a breathy tone.

“Thank you.” You said as you feel your cheeks heat up.

“No seriously, you look great.” He said to reassure you. You walked up and offered your hand.

“Francisco Morales, will you be a gentleman and join me tonight?”

“When have I ever said no to you?” He asked as he took your hand.

“I can think of a few times.” You laughed as you both walked to his truck.

For  once in a long time you felt as if Frankie and you were good. Good as in being together again. But only fools dream like that. Right?

✰✰✰

At your parents' anniversary party everyone and anyone was there. Your parents and friends were surprised to say the least and you enjoyed every minute of it. Your group was sitting around the table enjoying drinks and memories, it felt like you never left. Frankie was sitting by your side, and every so often it looked as if he wanted to be closer to you so you took the initiative to slowly move closer. When his arm was behind you, you were finally content, and based on his smile so was he.

“Care to dance?” You asked Frankie.

“Do I have to remind you how horrible we are at dancing?” He said laughing through his response.

“You owe me one dance, remember?” You said smiling knowing Frankie can’t say no now.

Standing up he offered you his arm and you both made your way over to the dance floor.

Moving to the beat, you were both entangled in limbs, but a bright smile displayed on everyone as they watched you and Frankie become those kids who pined for each other for all those years.

“It’s sad.” Em said to the table.

“On what?” Benny asked cluelessly.

“Pendejo. He promised her that he would only dance with her one more time at their wedding. They were supposed to be the next couple to celebrate fifty years together in this town.” Santiago said, looking at his best friend and you.

Frankie and you were laughing and talking but as a slow song came on you both stayed on the dance floor. Unknowing of the conversation that was going on with your group.

“I missed you.” Frankie said.

“There's not even a way to describe the feeling of how much I missed you.” You said, placing your head on his chest. Frankies grip tightened around you, as if he was scared that he was going to lose you. Again.

“I’m sorry.” You said softly.

“No. No apologies. Just be with me. Right here in this moment. Not the past or the future.”

“Frankie?” You asked, to which he hummed to be his response.

“Promise me this won’t be our last dance?” Your voice cracked as you spoke.

“Promise me you won’t be gone as long as you have been.” He spoke softly, as almost he was about to break. You nodded, not being able to form words. A small kiss was placed on your head from him. This was the way you used to seal promises.

It wasn’t until speeches and cake till your night was ruined. Everyone gathered around where your parents were. Your parents holding a microphone and giving thanks.

“Since we were kids this town has done nothing but helped us. We found true love in this zip code and we raised our wonderful kids here. Our oldest is striving to become a wonderful teacher like her mom and our youngest has been working her heart out since she was handed a highschool diploma. We thank all of you for your support and well wishes towards us and our family.” Your dad spoke as everyone clapped to his thoughtfulness.

“Though we are here celebrating our wonderful fifty years together. We are beyond grateful to have both of our children here tonight with us.” Your Mom spoke and pointed towards you and Em. Will and Benny both hollered and squeezed us together. Small laughter erupted.

“I have been blessed with such an amazing neighborhood, life, and soulmate but I am even more blessed that our youngest was offered a position in London while our oldest will be taking my place the next school year. Thank you all again and enjoy.”

Suddenly it felt claustrophobic. Everyone turned to say congratulations to you. You were surrounded and all you needed was an escape. But everyone was hugging and asking you questions.

While your own thoughts were running wild. How did your mom know about London? You didn’t take the job. Where’s Frankie? Oh my god where’s Frankie? The one that stuck out the most was you had to clear this up with your parents and especially Frankie. Em grabbed you and dragged you away.

“London?” She screamed and questioned. You began shaking your head.

“No, no, no!” You yelled back at her. Your mom had come up to you both and intervened.

“Mijas, what's wrong?” She asked.

“Mom, how did you know about London?” You asked, growing impatient.

“You buttdialed me in one of your meetings. ‘M sorry honey if you had a whole idea to tell us and if I ruined it-”

“Mom, I didn’t take the London job. I took the position of being media manager. A job where I could live here. Be here with, ugh fuck!” You screamed the last part feeling all the emotions rush through you. Benny, Will and Santiago walked over towards you. You wanted to burst out crying knowing Frankie had left. Again.

“Where is he?” You ran up to Benny. Benny shook his head and began to speak.

“He um, he left. We don’t know where too though. Maybe the creek?”

You looked towards Pope and he had a sorry gaze towards you. No you're not taking apologies. You need to make this right.

“Give me keys.” You raised your hand outward. Pope placed his keys and you din;t even say thank you. You just ran towards the cars.

You drove past the creek, school, and finally you saw the truck in his driveway. You parked quickly and ran towards the door. Tears already welling up your eyes. When you knocked and there was no answer to the door your heart began to speed up. Pope had to have keys to his place. And luckily you found the fit. Opening the door you searched for him, but he was sitting on the couch ushering a whiskey.

“Frankie please let me explain.” You said as you rounded the corner.

“Explain what?” He said moving towards the kitchen, that's when you saw his tear stained cheek.

“Explain how you're gonna move to London, how you’re gonna be able to do what you always wanted to do. You already left once, why do it twice?”

“Frankie.”

“Do you know how much joy I have when you call or text me. Or when you even fucking show up for your weekend here once a year. Do you know how much I yearn to gain a little more from you?”

“Frankie please.”

“No, please go ahead and break me one more time.” He said.

“Frankie, I didn’t take the job.” You had lost your temper and began to lose your control over your voice.

“What?”

“Do you know how much I yearned for you to call me and tell me to come back home? Do you know how lonely I was? I cried every night for two months, every holiday, birthday. I know I could live without you but fuck Frankie I didn’t want too.” Frankie had now moved back from behind the kitchen counter to be in front of you.

“Frankie, I was scared. I was a kid and I was so in love with you. I made myself board that airplane and I regretted it the instant I buckled my seatbelt. I wanted to see the world, but the only thing I truly wanted was to see the world with you.” At this point tears were both falling freely between the two of you.

“I only came back home to make sure this is what I wanted. To make sure that I would hate London. I came back to see if I could fix my mistakes.”

“Where are you working?” Frankie had now asked.

“I took the media manager position. I can work wherever I want.” You said now quietly. Frankie nodded trying to comprehend everything. Twenty minutes ago he thought he had lost you again, but now here you were in his house, confessing to him that you were too in love with him, that you cried everyday just like he had.

“Frankie please say something.”

“You’re not leaving?” He asked another question which drove you past patience.

“Frankie I will leave right now if you don’t-” Suddenly you were embraced by his lips. Before you could withdraw your mind from its far places, his arms were around you. You felt that rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left you limp. Just like he did all those times before. He kissed you, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made you cling to him. His insistent mouth was parting your shaking lips, sending wild waves along your nerves, evoking from your sensations you had never known you would be capable of feeling again. And before a swimming giddiness spun you round and round, you knew that you were kissing him back.

You pull away slowly. But then you both were kissing again. It shows you that every other kiss you’ve had without Frankie has been wrong. Both of you are kissing like crazy. Like your lives depend on it. Frankie’s tongue slips inside your mouth, gentle but demanding, and it’s nothing like you've ever experienced with him before. Your fingers wrap around his hat and pull it off, and move to grip his hair, pulling him even closer. He pushes you backward and you’re up against the kitchen table. The weight of his body on top of yours is extraordinary. You feel him—all of him—pressed against you. His face has his signature stubble and it rubs your skin but you don’t care, you don’t care at all. He feels wonderful. His hands are everywhere, and it doesn’t matter that his mouth is already on top of yours, you want him closer but he pulls away.

“You promised me forever and always. Is it forever now?” He asked with a certain amount of need in his voice. You nodded quite ferociously and pulled him in to seal the deal.

“Forever and always Francisco. You will have me forever and I will always love you.”

Leaning forward he sealed the deal, and for a long time it won't be the last seal the deal kiss.

Don't you fucking dare compare TikTok to Vine. ITS NOT THE SAME THING

Vine went away cuz it couldn't afford to stay active

TikTok went away because congress RIPPED it away from us. It let to many activist groups connect faster than ever before; it let too many voices of dissent be heard louder than ever before; and most importantly it was more popular than Facebook, Twitter( cuz fuck that X bullshit), and instagram.

I understand losing both of these platforms hurt, I was alive for vine's death to. But don't let yourself be fooled into a falce equivalence.

Vine died

TikTok was murdered.