#curve daily 911

[curveofthevalley]

day 1 of rewatching 9-1-1 an episode at a time: S1E1

this is an entirely different show and i forgot how much i Did Not Like Buck. hen & athena bestieism forever tho

[lonestardaily]

zEach week Lone Star Daily looks to provide you with a decent (not  comprehensive) list of the fanfics that have been posted for the week.  The week runs from Friday - Thursday, as that way it does give us an  opportunity to put the list together. There’s no requirement to tag us  as we will check the tags #911 lone star fic and #911lsfic while also  combing through ao3. We currently are only going to post new fics, not  updates. You can check out this week’s fics below the cut.

All our past recs can be found on this page.

Please  feel free to give this post a boost to give our writers a chance to  receive some love for the work they do for the fandom.

(if  your fic is not tagged with a tumblr, it’s because we couldn’t find one  - feel free to send us a message and we’ll be happy to add one)

TARLOS FICS

bring your fears to life by @marjansmarwani

↳  (TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | T | 5.9K)

A series of unfortunate events and an accident: that's what might make Owen's worst fears a reality. That's what might finally take his son from him.

Carlos just wants to know why: why the universe keeps trying to throw these curves at them. Especially after everything; especially now that they were finally standing on steady ground. He wants to believe that what they have is stronger than anything, but it's hard to hold onto hope when the person you love the most is being taken from you—again.

Or, 3x14 if things hadn't gone as well as they did.

porque you voy a quedarme by @morganaspendragonss

↳  (TK x Carlos | 5+1 | T | 2.5K)

five days in the year after tk's death, plus one more.

Hold Me Steady by @chaotictarlos

↳  (TK x Carlos | Angst | M | 4.3K)

The team responds to a scene where someone has overdosed and TK isn’t prepared for it. Thankfully Carlos is there and is able to provide some comfort.

Can’t Keep My Hands to Myself by @chaotictarlos & @ronensass

↳  (TK x Carlos | AU | E | 4.1K+)

When Carlos took the job at a strip club, he certainly wasn't expecting to get a boyfriend out of it.

My Constant Companion by @child-of-wonderland

↳  (TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | T | 23.7K)

Moving to Austin, in a way, made things easier than TK expected. Having a support system that never faltered, that didn't know the depths of it but still supported him, was something TK never knew he craved until he moved.

A simple case wasn't supposed to be enough to knock it all down. He wasn't meant to be faltering just days before reaching 2 years. He wasn't supposed to. And yet, here he was.

The tender things are those we fold away by @beautifulhigh

↳  (TK x Carlos | AU | E | 21.7K)

Season 1 AU - TK turned down the offer of a dance from the (very hot) man at the Honky Tonk, but they're thrown together when someone threatens to expose TK's page on the site Only Fans.

i’m yours (and you’re mine) by @rmd-writes

↳  (TK x Carlos | Missing Scene | E | 4.1K)

In which Carlos takes TK home and shows him who’s boss (kind of, TK has a lot of feelings)

long as there are stars above you by honeymarwani

↳  (TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | E | 4.3K+)

A season three rewrite wherein TK wakes up from the coma with retrograde amnesia, oblivious to the events of the past six months.

begged and borrrowed time by @iboatedhere

↳  (TK x Carlos | AU | E | 82.1K)

TK leaves home in search of work. In 1915, he finds himself on a ranch outside of Austin, Texas, working for a family that will change his life forever.

Look Where We Are by @chicgeekgirl89​

↳  (TK x Carlos, Nancy x Mateo | Fluff | T | 2.7K)

Some post-engagement fun and shenanigans involving Tarlos and the 126 fam.

Love Game by @welcometololaland​

↳  (TK x Carlos, Nancy x Mateo | AU | T | 6.2K)

Love Game: when a player wins a game without allowing their opponent to score a single point.

Since that fateful US Open semi-final, there have been two words used to describe TK Strand: "unfulfilled potential." There's a chance for redemption in there somewhere, and TK is willing to do whatever it takes to fight his way back.

Carlos Reyes finds himself in New York City due to the widely held belief that although he's rocketed up the ATP rankings, he'll never be good enough training out of Austin. Carlos might be Austin all the way down to his bones, but he also wants to win.

i don’t know what i want (but now i do) by falloutmars

↳  (TK x Carlos, Nancy x Mateo | FWB | T | 8.1K)

Can we meet?  

TK freezes in the middle of the firehouse’s kitchen. Eyes glued to his phone, to the text that’s just popped up, he’s blissfully unaware of the team’s gaze locked onto him.

It’s not that he doesn’t get texts from Carlos, but he doesn’t get texts like that. They have something of a casual texting… relationship? Friendship? Acquaintanceship? Honestly, TK isn’t sure. Between hooking up, a failed dinner, and continuing to hook up again, there hasn’t been much of a conversation about whats and whos and whys.

Honestly, TK’s been mostly okay with it. Mostly.

Adhesive by paperstorm

↳  (TK x Carlos | Coda | M | 5.2K)

A tag for 1x4, "Act of God", in which Carlos has some feelings and TK finds out about Owen's diagnosis.

OTHER PAIRINGS/CHARACTER FICS

love in the time of rodeo by @marwani-strickland

↳  (Paul/Marjan | AU | T | 10.6K)

paul strickland isn't looking for love, he's too focused on his career. it finds him anyways in the form of a news reporter. (cowboy! paul strickland and news reporter! marjan marwani.) 

Unknown Muse to Known Companion by Regent_of_RarePairs

↳  (Nancy/Marjan | AU | T | 971)

When Nancy first sees her all she knows is that she's the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. Months, and hundreds of pieces of art, later her Muse shows up at the show featuring the art inspired by her. Lucky for Nancy Marjan is flattered.

[guestpostblogger1]

Unleashing the Ultimate Thrill: Research Different Types of Sports Cars Available in the UAE 

Do you long for the unparalleled driving experience whenever you go behind the wheel?  

Does speed, agility, style, and power define your perfect car?  

If so, you should include buying a sports automobile on your bucket list. Sports cars are more than simply automobiles in the United Arab Emirates. They are a way of life. The UAE has a buzzing sports car culture; owning the right sports car can give you an unmatched thrill and social status. So, let us learn more about the many sports vehicle models in the UAE. 

Aspire To Luxury? The Lamborghini Aventador S Is the Right Pick for You! 

This beast represents ultimate power, luxury, and unmatched performance. The 6.5-liter V12 engine produces 740 horsepower, taking you from 0 to 100kmph in just 2.9 seconds. The car’s signature scissor doors and exceptional exterior design ensure it turns heads wherever it goes. The Aventador controls like a dream, and with speed and handling so responsive, it is a natural rival to some of the most established players in the sports car market. 

Audi R8: The Car That Will Give You Goosebumps! 

The 5.2-liter V10 engine produces 610 horsepower, and the Audi R8 is another sports car that is a popular choice amongst enthusiasts. It has great handling and precision thanks to its all-wheel driving system. The R8 has extended its appeal into the supercar space with its agile handling and the V10 power plant. The beautifully crafted exterior design and luxurious interior of the R8 are highly impressive. 

Ferrari 812 Superfast: Falling in Love, With Every Curve! 

The Ferrari 812 Superfast is one of the newer sports cars in the UAE, carrying on the company’s decades-old history of creating extremely highly performing sports cars. The 812 superfast’s 6.5-liter V12 engine produces a breathtaking 800 horsepower, giving it a top speed of 340 mph. It is not just about the numbers; a Ferrari embodies style, luxury, and power. 

Aston Martin Vantage: A Classic, Yet Compelling Sports Car 

With its sleek, seductive style, thrilling performance, and intelligent engineering, the Vantage is an iconic sports car in the UAE. The car has a 503 horsepower, 4.0-liter twin-turbo V8 engine, going from 0 to 100kmph in 3.7 seconds. The Vantage's low-slung design is deft, muscular, and seductive, all rolled up into one. 

Porsche 911 GT3 RS: The King of Track Day Cars 

The Porsche 911 GT3 RS is a track day car you can drive daily. The car's 4.0-liter six-cylinder engine, built for ultimate output, sounds like the smoothest engine in the world and produces 520 horsepower. Faster, more desirable, and crucially more engaging than ever before. The Porsche 911 GT3 RS is the most fun driving car. 

Consider Budget Restrictions and Affordability 

Budget concerns and affordability are at the top of your list when buying new tires for your car. Thankfully, several options can fit your budget while ensuring high-quality performance and durability. It is worth seeing if there is a  Falken dealer near me to make the procedure simpler and more comfortable. With their impressive range of affordable yet high-quality tires, you can rest assured that your vehicle will roll smoothly and safely down the road. 

Compare Prices and Insurance Costs 

Comparing prices and insurance costs is important when purchasing new tires to ensure you get the best deal. One great option for high-quality tyres is Falken, and you can easily find a location near you by searching for "Falken tyres near me." Once you have found a nearby supplier, check their pricing and options against other tyre providers in the area. Remember to consider insurance costs, as some retailers may offer warranties or guarantees that can save you money overall. You can feel confident you are making a smart purchasing decision by researching and comparing prices. 

Conclusion: 

Without a doubt, owning a sports car is a dream come true. Being able to choose from a variety of passionately crafted sports cars in the UAE makes it more exciting. The cars are not only about speed, agility, style, and power; they offer a lifestyle synonymous with the nation. Whether driving down the Sheikh Zayed Road with your friends or showing off your ride at a high-profile event, owning a sports car is the perfect way to make a statement. So, what are you waiting for? Research the diverse types of sports cars, choose your dream ride, and experience the ultimate thrill. 

[park298]

How to Find a Manager For a Mobile Home Park

Mobile home parks are a very low management type of real estate. Unlike most other forms of real estate (apartments, self-storage, duplex, etc.) not much happens on a daily basis. This is because the "business" is renting small plots of land for people to put trailers. Nothing new ever happens with the land, and the tenant is responsible for just about everything except the water and sewer pipes, and potholes in the road. In fact, almost every tenant problem ends in explaining to them that they need to call 911 to resolve the petty issue between them and their neighbor. As long as the water and sewer is flowing, the roads are flat, the common areas are mowed, and the tenants are paying, there is not much for a mobile home park manager to do.

Obviously, the performance hurdle is not high in managing a mobile home park. But you still need to have a "warm body" that can take care of the minor items, and act as you eyes and ears at the property between visits. So how do you find someone?

The most important quality of a successful manager

I bet you're thinking that it's some certification or personality trait. But it's not. It's much more simple: the manager has to live in the mobile home park.

Living in a mobile home park is not something that you would voluntarily throw out at a job interview. But for this job, it is more essential than the "where do you see yourself in five years" question of most interviews. I have never had a manager who did not live in the mobile home park work out. And I don't think they possibly could, if you think about it rationally.

There are no regular office hours

What derails normal real estate management in a mobile home park is that an office that's open from 9 to 5 is the most inappropriate concept ever. If there is going to be a problem in a mobile home park, it's always going to be any time other than 9 to 5 on Monday through Friday. Because nobody's home then. And the real problems only occur when everyone is home. The sewer normally only backs up when you apply new water to a sewer clog. When nobody is home, there is no water usage. Further, the peak water usage occurs at about 7:30 am (getting ready for work and school) and 6:00 pm (washing off after a day of work). The same is true of the peak amount of pull on all the utilities. In some parks, you find master-metered electrical systems. When do they "brown out" or catch fire? Normally after work when everyone turns on their air-conditioning simultaneously. Even tenant disputes among themselves (which the park is not even going to get involved in, except to suggest calling 911) happen at night. And collections, if you give the manager that duty, will not work when everybody's gone during the day.

So if you are trying to manage a park, 9 to 5 is the worst time to select for on-site management.

Walk a mile in their shoes

Most managers who do not live in mobile home parks have great difficulty understanding the mentality and choices of your customers. Due to this communications gap, many individuals who have successfully managed apartments or other properties have trouble replicating that success in a park.

For example, park residents are often different than those in other real estate niches. Much of what they store in and around their yard is part of their lifestyle and cultural adaptation. If you are to enforce the park rules, you have to know what is acceptable from what is not acceptable - and only someone who thinks like a park resident can discriminate from what is normal and what is abuse of the rules. Many managers from outside the park business have a long learning curve ahead, and in the interim, will create many problems for you by being overly tough on tenants and decrease your rate of customer retention.

In addition, they will often "look down" on residents, and create problems just from their attitude and manner. An effective manager needs to understand the customer and how to get the job done without offending them - and an outsider just can't.

So how do you find a manager in your own park?

First, drive through your park. Make a list of the nicest lots (it does not have to be just the newer homes) - ones that clearly show taste and pride of ownership. These are your top candidates. Now match that list to your collections list, and see if any of these folks pay on time every month. If they can't manage their own affairs, they surely cannot manage yours.

Then send a letter to each of these residents describing the job and the amount you will pay, and then see who contacts you. You want a manager with enough ambition and energy to make the first call, if you can find one. If none call, then you call them and see if they are interested.

From that pool, I have found that the most effective managers are home 24/7 - either stay-at-home housewives, or retired people. These two groups are also beneficial since they are not trying to make being a manager their "day job", and this will minimize your risk of embezzlement.

And guess the best office location?

That's right. It's in their house. If you follow the logic of the earlier statements, then the only appropriate office in the park is in your manager's house. Once you have made this adjustment, you now have a manager who is on-duty 24/7. They don't have to have any set office hours - everyone knows where to go with their problems used mobile home for sale in New Braunfels .

And what do you do with the old park office? Put a sign on the door that says "I am out on property right now. Call my cell at () -_". It's that easy.

And did I mention the fact that you now have no more park office telephone, electrical or gas charges? In many cases, that alone will pay for the manager.

Conclusion

There are many ways to manage a park. But there is only one way to succeed in hiring a manager. And that is from within. If you want to find a winning manager in your park, look no farther than your rent roll.

For over a decade, Frank has been involved in all facets of the mobile home park business as an owner/operator of parks in four different states. His experience includes: Purchasing and operating over 25 mobile home parks as an investor Performing "due diligence" on hundreds of other mobile home parks. At one point, ranking as the 63rd largest owner of mobile home parks in the U.S. Frank has achieved a high-level of expertise in evaluating, buying, operating, turning around, financing, and selling mobile home parks. His experiences are real life, and he can provide you with real life scenarios and solutions on almost any issue that you can face as an investor or operator. His knowledge can be yours through the unique offerings at "Mobile Home Park College" as a Faculty Member.

[satashiiwrites]

WIP Wednesday

In a Jack Johnson kind of writing mood this morning so FFO is getting some attention finally instead of anything MReyder. Cut for length. Tagging @tkwritesdumbassassins​ @radio-chatter​ @quietborderline​ @elisela​ or anyone who wants to play along for some WIP Wednesday output. No obligations as always. 

From: Family, Familia, ‘Ohana Chapter 7, Buck POV

Fandoms: 911, H50, SWAT

Pairings, Buddie, McDanno, Hondo/Deacon, other canon pairings mentioned

Other tags: First draft, Crossover/Alternative universe, NavySeal!Buck

The heart monitor’s beeps still made him want to jump even though he’d been trading in and out with a few HPD members that Steve trusted for days.  Buck had stubbornly insisted on taking the night watch tonight, thinking he could grab a few hours at Noshimuri’s bedside.  He was used to sleeping light anyways—every time the nurses came in he woke instantly and was alert.  Buck would watch them adjust something on the IV pole or swap out a medication bag that was almost empty at the last moment, asking them what they were hanging and verifying the labels said the same and ask them to explain it’s function.

Google and him were best friends about medication names at this point.

It wasn’t that they didn’t trust the nurses—it was that Adam Noshimuri hadn’t woken up yet and he’d been pretty badly banged up.  Buck’d had a few moments where he’d mentally debated calling Maddie but he’d decided that was a terrible idea as she’d start asking too many questions about why he needed to know about ICU medications.  Hen and Chimney were also nonstarters as he didn’t want to tell them where he was.  Eddie had confessed that most of the medications weren’t his specialty but he’d helped answer a few of Buck’s questions the first day and asked how Noshimuri was every time they talked which was almost daily now.

Buck’s day revolved around those calls if he was being honest. 

In a few hours, he’d call Eddie to say good morning—the time difference working in his favor so he could check in with Eddie before the day really got going and was about the time that he was relieved so he could go have a swim with Steve.  Eddie didn’t have much to say the last week other than he’d been off and Buck got the impression he’d been stuck in his head too much. 

Eddie had insisted he was fine but when pressed he’d finally admitted he was working on being fine but talking to Buck was helping.  

That small confession meant that Buck had to make time to talk to Eddie every day.  

It was helping him too. 

Even if they weren’t talking about the things they really needed to.  

By mutual agreement they seemed to have put off talking about their prior arguments.  Buck was waiting until he was physically with Eddie—there were some things he just couldn’t talk to him over the phone about.  He needed to see Eddie’s reaction, be able to… he didn’t know. Touch Eddie?  The urge to wrap himself around Eddie was something he’d been denying himself from about two days after meeting the man seemed to always be at the forefront of his mind every time they talked—and it was talking. Mostly.  He was FaceTiming with them at night so he could help put Christopher to bed. Eddie usually looked like he needed to sleep so Buck just told him he’d talk to him in the morning and it got him that little curve at the corners of Eddie’s mouth that was a smile he liked to think of just his. 

Having Eddie back in his life—even just scraps like this—was what he’d been needing for months. Buck had agreed to talk to Mamo, a Hawaiian kahuna, at Steve’s insistence.  Was actually supposed to talk with the man later today he realized as he looked at the clock above Noshimuri’s bed. 

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

MY THOUGHTS ON THE CULLEN CAR PROFILES IN THE GUIDE: PART 1

So I finished reading the Cullen Cars section in the Guide, and guys it is PAINFUL how obviously this was written by, not just a motorhead, but a car nerd.

This section, obviously, was written by Meyer's brother, Jacob. And the end-result was exactly what I was afraid of: each one reads like it was copy-pasted from the promotion pamphlets.

The entries on the more day-to-day cars are full of car-jargon like "lateral acceleration" and "front-biased weight distribution", without telling the reader in any fun way or layman's terms what any of that means, common sense aside. We've all had to listen to a car buff drone at some point and this is that. These entries are just slightly overly technical and don't actually say much about the cars' personalities.

He calls the Porsche "seemingly less race[ing]-inspired" than more expensive super cars, but one of the biggest ways Porsche made a name for themselves was with the original 911's and it was on EUROPEAN RACING STAGES. WTH!!!

WORST OF ALL, THOUGH, are the entries on Edward's Aston Martin and Bella's Ferrari. These are full of goo-goo eyed, rose tinted drivel. It is telling, to me, that these more highly engineered cars don't get much of an info dump about their suspension or advanced technology or any of the stuff we got with the daily drivers. With Edward's Aston we get things like

"... a car that has the looks, performance and competence of a true sports car, while offering enough luxury to call into into question its sporting nature."

And

"While technically (Dude. what? "Technically"? I'm sorry?) a sports car, the British-made Aston is the proper gentleman of the group... made in true British style, every ounce of this car alludes to old-world money, power and manners."

He also calls it merely "competent on racetrack and says its better as a high-performance cruiser when, like, no bro. This was supposed to be the shouty racer and the DB9 is the high performance luxury GT (Grand Tour) car. You utter pillock.

Now I'm not gonna argue any of the praise for the Ferrari because I feel more confident in that, from the testimony of people who've owned one. It was at the time (And may still be, if you aren't that dazzled by the 458) the best car in the world.

That said look at this:

"The car's beautifully designed lines and curves remind the viewer more of classical Italian sculpture than anything related to transportation."

LOL. Now don't get me wrong the Ferrari F430 is a very pretty car.

Not everyone thinks so (and to be fair, once you see the "Smile" in the front end, you can't unsee it), but I do. BUT EVEN I, AN ADMIRER OF THE FANCY CARS, do not think that is, in any way, more related to art than driving. PUH-LEASE. That is a very beautiful car, but it is still just a car. If you want to talk about a car being more closely related to Italian sculpture that transportation, then go find an Alfa Romeo fawn over. Because that really is all they're good for.

Because the thing is, Ferrari are kind of like... how do I wanna put this. Okay well let's say Ferrari are the Gryffindor of the car world. Everyone wants to be a Ferrari owner. They have a long pedigree and they, historically and presently make great cars with all the latest advancements and technology. They're like a black dress or a red rose - no one will argue with the classics. But to me at least, they kind of lack... well, personality. It's kind of taken for granted that a Ferrari is gonna be the best car in any given line-up, without anyone ever actually explaining why. It might be, I think, that Ferrari have become a bit overrated. That's not to say that Ferrari shouldn't be given due respect, especially for something like the F430, but here's where I have an issue.

In my Cullen Car post about Bella's Ferrari, I posed the question: was the Ferrari chosen for Bella because it both captures how Edward has always seen Bella, even before she was strong and beautiful in her own estimation, and because it's user friendly, easy to get the best out of it, and actually, surprisingly, suits her personality pretty well As flashy as the F430 seems at first glance, in it's sleek, low-slung, super car way, it still looks purposeful. It's not ostentatious, other than that it's red. It doesn't over-do it in the way, say, a Lamborghini does. It's not out to grab attention, it's here to do what it loves and is good at and that's driving.

Unfortunately, it turns out my concern was justified, because what Jacob's profile on the F430 has confirmed for me is that Bella's Ferrari was chosen simply because it was the prettiest, most impressive "best" car on the market at the time. Had Breaking Dawn taken place in 2010, it would have been a 458, and that's sad - because that truly wouldn't have suited Bella at all.

Look at it.

I think all of this is because, and this is just speculation, but I'll be willing to bet that Jacob's never actually driven any of these cars. The way it goes with most car enthusiasts, I think, is that we see these super fancy, beautiful cars (these in the pantheon of Super/Hyper half-million dollar cars) and we treat them like celebrities. We form opinions based on their looks, we read reviews of them in Car and Driver and things like that, and from the makers themselves - all venues designed, at the end of the day, to sell them.

I've admitted that a lot of my opinions are formed from watching Top Gear and maybe that doesn't make me any better, but what I like about the reviews done by people like Jeremy Clarkson and Richard Hammond is that they don't skimp on pointing out faults as well as favors, even on cars they love and respect, and they always do it in an entertaining way that holds my attention and gives a sense of personality beyond the car's looks and what their manufacturers say they can do. I can't say I would totally agree with their opinions if I ever did get a chance to drive any of these cars, but I at least I can feel some trust in their experience; and they do discuss all these cars in comparison to other contemporaries, and a lot of the time they disagree too, and that gives me more perspective to work with.

Because, like celebrities, even Ferraris have faults. Just because it's a hugely respected brand, like Aston Martin, doesn't mean that every aspect of that car is gonna be faultless and brilliant. Jacob never mentions the Vanquish's shitty gearbox because Jacob has probably never had to deal with it. Neither have I, but I think a certain degree of circumspection is warranted.

I've spiraled a bit here, I didn't intend to be so long winded, but I'm passionate about this. I'm gonna cut off here and do a part 2.

[threeletterslife]

Nothing a Lil Green Can’t Fix

→ summary: Imagine having a best friend so crazy you have to have 911 on speed dial. Turns out that you are that friend. And it's up to Park Jimin to keep you from facing disaster.

→ pairing/rating: jimin x reader | PG-15

→ genre: i love bittersweet stories 🥺 so this is basically fluff all the way but angst lurking in the background | coming of age!au

→ warnings: profanity, mentions of death, divorce, heartbreak (like pretty fucking sad shit), implied sex

→ wordcount: 19.2k

→ a/n: i had so much fun writing this! a HUGE thank you to all of my friends & beta readers who helped me not make a big embarrassment out of myself LOL. a round of applause and special thanks to @aaugustlee​​, @fangirlfeelz​, @bangtansgalaxie​, @byuncaa​, @yunjikim021​ for putting up with my unedited writing! (: ALSO a huge HUGE thank you to @justastar​ for this BEAUTIFUL mood board 🤩

♫: Who by Lauv (feat. BTS) | Say Something by Pentatonix | Inner Child by BTS

cr.

When Jimin was younger, he knew superheroes existed. After all, his own mother was one of them. She cooked, washed the clothes, taught Jimin the alphabet, ran the grocery errands, worked from home, read Jimin a bedtime story and tucked him into bed—which was her daily schedule. She was strong, loving and caring. The things every mother should be. She handled problems better than she handled her emotions, that woman.

Which was probably why she cheated on Jimin's father. Jimin was only five when he heard the shouts and screams coming from downstairs. He remembers how frightened he had been, gripping his pillow and trying to drown the sound of yelling with his blankets. Only shortly after that night, his mother had packed her bags and left. Jimin never saw her again.

But life wasn't too bad after that. You had shown up, after all.

Even though Jimin's once perfect family was ruined, he didn't mind too much. When he's with you, he forgets about all of his other problems.

You'd first waddled up to him in his kindergarten class with a green marker in hand. "Can you please color me green?" you'd politely asked.

If Jimin's mother taught him one thing before she walked out of his life, she'd taught him manners. So when you, a complete stranger, had been so polite about a request that didn't look like it'd do much harm, Jimin complied.

He helped you color yourself green. Halfway through the process, he'd said: "Why are we coloring you green?"

You'd laughed out loud, grinning as you announced emphatically, "BECAUSE GREEN IS THE BESTEST COLOR EVER!"

You hate it when Jimin teases you of your first encounter with him. Mainly because you had yelled out 'bestest' at the top of your lungs that day and 'bestest' is most definitely not a word. (You're kind of a grammar freak.) Not to mention, both of you had gotten into huge trouble for coloring you green that day. Jimin had cried when the teacher had scolded the two of you, but you had shrugged, patted Jimin on the back and boldly asked the teacher, "Would you like to be colored green as well?"

You were banished to the time out chair and your star got moved down two slots into the angry orange section instead of the happy green. Jimin had felt sorry for you, but you didn't seem like you cared that much. Your skin was your favorite color. How could you not be happy?

Later that same day, you'd declared Jimin your best friend. And then you had taught him your secret language so no imbecile could eavesdrop on your private conversations. Jimin thought you were the coolest human being alive.

Jimin still thinks you're the coolest human being alive.

He's thirteen and waiting for you outside of your house so both of you can walk to school together. Walking to school side by side has been a tradition ever since you were little, too. It was also a tradition that you were always a few minutes late.

You suddenly bust out of the door with half a bagel in your mouth and your hair a frenzied mess. "Bye Granny!" you yell as the door slams shut. "Let's go!" you exclaim to Jimin in your secret language as he nods in agreement. The two of you begin to walk to school.

"What are you today?" he asks as he looks over at your outfit of the day. You're wearing black cargo pants, a black mesh top with a black tank top underneath, big, black boots and metal chains around your neck. You like to keep your fashion choices interesting by having a different style every day. You've already tried prim and proper, goth, princess and tomboy. But this... Well, this was something definitely new.

"I'm a bad girl." You grin, chomping down on the rest of your breakfast and brushing your hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

Jimin frowns. "You're gonna get dress coded," he says but upon your disappointed look, he sighs. "You're gonna get dress coded," he says in the secret language.

"Am not."

"Are too."

You roll your eyes, flipping your messy hair over your shoulder. "They can dress code me. Fine. I'll go to school in my underwear the next day, then."

Jimin laughs, shaking his head. "They'll send you to juvie."

You snort, throwing your head back in a fit of laughter. "Oh, Jimin, I—" You suddenly gasp, hand flying into your pocket to fish out your favorite green permanent marker. Its name is Gilbert.

"Grammar error?" Jimin asks.

"Yeah," you sigh, shaking your head in disdain. "Over there."

There's a sign in front of a local coffee shop that painstakingly reads: free cakes everyday after four!

"They forgot the space between 'everyday,' " you huff, so disappointed that you forget to speak in the secret language. "Wait right here."

Jimin stops walking, watching you quickly stroll over to the sign and circling the word, 'everyday' with Gilbert and marking in all caps right next to it: NEEDS SPACE.

You make your way over to Jimin again, sighing. "When will people learn?"

"Not everyone is good at grammar, Y/N," Jimin reminds you. "I think you're being a bit of a grammar Nazi."

You scoff. "So what if I am a grammar Nazi? Do you think it's acceptable to parade around town using the wrong 'everyday?' " You throw your hands in the air for dramatic emphasis.

"I mean, everybody makes mistakes," Jimin tries.

You huff, crossing your arms. "Yeah, like your outfit," you grumble. "You forgot to hook a strap of your overalls over your shoulder."

"Hey!" Jimin says. "It's fashion!"

"It's ridiculous," you counter. "It's like you're trying to show off your man chest."

"Well, you're trying to show off your girl chest."

You gasp, gazing down at your black mesh top before realizing Jimin's actually right—this stupid top does expose a lot of you to the public's scrutiny. "Don't look there, idiot!" you say. "Perve."

"What am I supposed to do? Not look at it?"

"Yes!" you say very indignantly. "A true gentleman would not look!"

"But it's right in front of my face!"

"You know what, Jimin? You can walk to school alone!" You start dashing away from Jimin, your heavy boots thumping on the concrete.

"Wait! Y/N!"

Though you might've won the fight at that moment, Jimin becomes the real winner when you come out of your house the next day wearing a turtleneck that covers your whole upper half and modest boot cut jeans with white sneakers.

"What are you today?" Jimin teases in the secret language.

"Shut up," you mutter. "Let's go."

Jimin happily obliges, skipping his way to school as you grumble, following right behind him.

Sometimes Jimin wonders what he would do without you. You were the angelic figure that had swept him off his feet when he needed a good distraction from reality. You had stepped in when his mother had stepped out. And he loves you no matter how weird you are.

"Jimin?" you ask, your head propped against his chest as his arm wraps around you. Both of you are staring up at the blue sky with sunglasses on.

"Hmm?"

"I think I can speak to the weather," you confess in the secret language, grinning wildly as you watch the clouds shift in the blue sky. "It was probably my fourteenth birthday gift from the universe, you know?"

Jimin loves how you never grew up. You were the same Y/N he knew in kindergarten with a big imagination and overflowing creativity—only smarter, taller and more beautiful.

"You can speak to the weather?" Jimin asks.

You nod. "I'm making it sunny right now."

"Really?"

You snuggle into his chest, clinging to his warmth as you laugh. "I control it with my emotions. I'm so happy right now that the sun can't help but shine upon us."

Jimin's heartbeat quickens as you clutch onto his t-shirt, but he tries to play it off. "And why are you so happy right now?"

"It's summertime!" you exclaim, suddenly jumping up and out of Jimin's arms. "We'll be in high school this year!! And you know how much I love hanging out with my best friend."

Jimin smiles, though he wonders if you'll ever love him the same way he loves you.

"You know," you sigh as you trudge down the steps of your apartment building in a large green raincoat and white boots with a glazed donut in your hand. "I'm feeling pretty horrible today. I think it's going to rain."

Jimin nods as he looks up at the sky. Sure enough, the rain clouds are settling in, painting the sky a dark gray. "That's not a good way to start off the first day of high school."

"It really isn't," you sigh.

"Is it your granny?" Jimin whispers in the secret language as both of you begin to walk to your new school.

You flinch. "She's just... she's not feeling too well, you know?"

"I'm sorry," Jimin says. "Do you know what it is?"

"She won't fucking tell me," you groan, handing your donut to Jimin. "I don't want it. Do you?"

It's Jimin's favorite food: a glazed donut, so he takes it and munches on it. Something tells him that you saved it just for him. "Thanks," he says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..." You shake your head, your lips that had been set in a stern lip suddenly curving up to reveal a bright smile. "Sorry, I'm totally killing the mood. We should be excited! High school, right?? Oh my god, do you think we're all going to dance in the gym like we're all in it together??"

"That stuff only happens in the movies," Jimin chuckles as he finishes the last of your donut. But upon seeing your disappointed face, he offers: "No, we'll definitely dance around in the gym singing songs from High School Musical."

"That's more like it!" you exclaim.

Crazily enough, by the time the two of you reach the new school, the rain clouds have disappeared from the sky. Jimin looks over at you, who had taken off your raincoat to reveal a rather summery green t-shirt dress. Maybe you really can control the weather with your emotions.

Jimin admires how you don't give two flying fucks about social standards. You're brave enough to be yourself, to stray from society and not conform to stupid high school stereotypes. You're everything that he isn't. And in sophomore year in high school, you're wilder than ever before. Frankly, he thinks you're what everyone wants to be but is too afraid to be.

"Did you study for the AP chem test?" Jimin asks as he fidgets with pages and pages of notes in his hands.

You snort, tugging your favorite green jacket around yourself. "No. Why would I? It's just a test."

"But it's an important test," Jimin insists, eyes glazing over as he half listens to you and half crams last-minutely. "Last test to raise your grade before the final."

"My time's important too," you laugh. "I don't regret those six hours I spent reading yesterday. You know, I woke up so late today that I had to wear my pajamas to school."

Jimin glances down at your sweatpants and looks up at your tousled hair.

"Yeah," you say, "only had time to put on the nearest jacket. But it's kind of hot, isn't it?"

You're right. Ever since you helped nurse your granny back into top-notch health, the weather was perfect—always sunny and just slightly breezy. It matches your mood.

You shrug off your green jacket, folding it away. When Jimin notices your shirt underneath, he gasps out loud.

"Y/N!"

"What?"

"You're wearing those pajamas!" he exclaims in the secret language, frantically. "Do you wanna borrow my t-shirt or something?"

"What? No!" you cock your head. "What's so bad about my t-shirt right now?"

"Y/N, you're literally wearing a shirt with the periodic table on it. We're taking a chem test!"

"Oh, you're so funny, Jimin," you say, shaking your head. "It's just a t-shirt. No one will care."

Fast forward ten minutes later when your AP chem teacher calls you up before you sit down with your test and tells you that you need to put a jacket over your shirt.

"But Mr. Levitt!" you protest. "I don't want to be in a stuffy jacket when I'm taking a test!"

Mr. Levitt sighs, but after an intense one-minute staring contest in which you claim victory, he agrees to turn on the air conditioning. Silently, everyone thanks you (it's a hot day, after all) as you return to your seat with your jacket covering your shirt and your eyes sparkling with their usual mischief. Jimin thinks you might've elaborately planned this whole scheme out. Mr. Levitt is infamous for being a total tightwad on the AC, so maybe you thought you had to do something about it instead of studying for the test.

Naturally, you proceeded to completely bomb the chemistry exam.

"Ugh," Jimin groans the next day as you step out of your home with an apple in your mouth. "The scores are out. I got a 92%," he huffs. "That's barely gonna raise my grade."

You laugh out loud, tossing Jimin another apple that he gratefully catches. "I got a 43%. Deal with it."

"You're serious."

"I'm always serious," you giggle, twirling around in your rather nice-looking outfit. Jimin notices you took extra time to curl your hair and apply a sheer lipgloss on your lips. "Besides, you know, that test had so many grammatical errors that I couldn't possibly focus on the problems!" You scoff, shaking your head disdainfully as your eyes gloss over to remember the horror you saw the day before. "I had to whip out Gilbert and fix all the errors, you know? I didn't even get to look at half the questions on the test. But I'm pretty sure I got everything else right, though," you confidently announce. "Totally worth it. Mr. Levitt needs to learn a thing or two about dangling modifiers."

"But Y/N, you can't fail a class!" Jimin protests. He doesn't have the guts to tell you that you earned your 43% after a 13% curve—that in reality, you'd really gotten a 30%.

"I'm not failing," you giggle, "yet."

"What am I gonna do with you?"

You shrug, biting at your healthy breakfast and chewing slowly. "Anyways, do you like my outfit?" you ask in your secret language, totally changing the subject.

Jimin warily eyes your pretty skirt and button-down top. His face heats up just a little bit, but he forces himself to look away. "Why'd you dress up so much? You're going to fall down wearing those heels."

You roll your eyes so hard Jimin can see the whites of your eyes. "Google Earth always takes pictures, my friend," you sing. "If people see me walking down this street on that app, I want to look fabulous."

Jimin's learned a long time ago from experience to not believe everything you say. (One time when the two of you were six years old, you told Jimin if he waited in his garage at night without falling asleep, he'd see his father's old, battered Hyundai turn into a chivalrous robot—this was after you had watched Transformers with him at home—and Jimin had stupidly believed you. What followed was him staying up for three nights in a row, waiting for the car to morph in Optimus Prime. He was almost going to stay up for a fourth night until you had to put an end to his madness by telling him you were joking.) And there were many, many more times your large imagination had convinced Jimin something that wasn't real, was. But now, he knows when to take your words with a grain of salt.

Even so, the next day, he dresses up extra nicely. Just in case Google Earth is taking photos.

You pass sophomore year with mediocre grades, but by now, Jimin knows you don't really care much about your transcript.

Junior year is rumored to be the hardest of all in high school, a rumor that turns out to be quite true. Well, except for you.

Jimin's reading for his huge physics exam on his bed while you're propped up against the headboard, legs tangled absentmindedly with his. The two of you had been in that position for hours. Normally, you can't sit in one spot for more than forty-five minutes, but you must be concentrating on something because you'd been way too still and quiet for way too long.

"Hey, Y/N?" Jimin calls in the secret language. "You good?"

"Hmm," you hum. "Mhm."

When Jimin looks up, he sees you sewing. You must've gotten that sewing kit splayed before you from your granny. It's really endearing how much you love her and how much you're willing to do for her. She's the only family you've got left around here, and she's the one that has taken care of you since you were very young. Your granny is a lot like you, too. Jimin's heard from you that she likes watching extreme sports and hopes to become a three-time gold Olympic medalist snowboarder by the time she's dead (though she hasn't won a single snowboarding contest in her life). She loves fashion and enjoys taking you out to shop. She likes to preach that grades do not define intelligence. (It seems as though you've had that soaked in your brain for a very long time.) Her husband, Gilbert, was a grammar freak like her, but he passed away before you were born. You named your permanent green marker after him.

You don't like to talk about it, but your granny hasn't been in great health in the past few years. Jimin knows how much it's putting a strain on you, yet you insist that everything's completely fine before suggesting to embark on another wild journey.

"Are you sewing something on your favorite shorts?" Jimin asks, setting down his physics book.

You nod, tongue poking out of your lips as you concentrate. "It's a QR code."

"Oh, really?" Jimin becomes interested as he scoots closer to you so that your arms are touching.

"Yeah, so when I wear these scandalously short shorts and guys are checking out my ass, they'll see this QR code instead and dare to scan it, you know?" you smile proudly at yourself, setting down your sewing project as you lean again Jimin's shoulder. "Wanna know what comes up when you scan it?" you ask in the secret language.

"Yeah."

"Information about colorectal cancer."

"What?"

"Colorectal cancer. Colon cancer, Jimin." He notices the way your lips tremble slightly as the words spill out of your mouth. You're struggling to keep a straight face.

"Oh, Y/N... Your granny—"

"Yes," you cry out, tears starting to well up in your eyes. "Stage four, Jimin. Fucking stage four. She has about a year left."

"Y/N..."

You move in to hug Jimin, crying into his shirt as he wraps his arms around your waist, letting you cry in silence.

You don't like to cry. Jimin's only seen you cry one other time in his twelve years of friendship with you—when your granny had her first cancer scare a couple years back. To see you breaking down in front of him like this hurts him more than words can describe. You're usually so resilient; you wear a fierce smile on your face even when times are tough. But you'd have to take off your happy mask at some point.

He lets you sob into his chest, warm hands tracing circles on your back in hopes of soothing you. He never knows the right thing to say, unlike you, so he stays quiet.

It takes a few minutes but your sobs dwindle to soft sniffles, then to complete silence. Jimin holds you in his arms without complaint, savoring your warmth, hoping that just embracing you can help.

You pull away, wiping off the residue of your tears on your face with the back of your sleeve. "I'm so sorry, Jimin," you whisper, your hands tracing the wet patches of your tears on Jimin's shirt. "I think... I need to go home."

He doesn't stop you when you pack up your sewing kit and leave without another word. And he hates himself for being so cowardly.

But the next day, you come out of your house with a bright smile on your face. You're wearing the shorts with the QR code sewn on the back, proudly flaunting them to Jimin. He does everything so his eyes don't linger around your ass; in the end, he just looks away entirely.

You laugh when you see him blush, linking your arms together as you march to school. The sun's shining brightly today, but the streets are wet with the hard rain that had poured last night.

All too soon, senior year rolls by with summer just around the corner. You and Jimin make use of your lax time, no longer needing to worry about grades or academic productivity.

"You know, everyone has one deep fear," you confess, snuggling up against Jimin on the sofa in your room. "You know what mine is, right?"

Jimin nods. "Losing your granny."

"Good. Well, I think I know what yours is."

"Really?" Jimin asks, letting you rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair.

"You're afraid of being left alone," you whisper. "You're especially afraid someone you love will leave you."

"Hmm..." Jimin hums. "Like my mother?"

"Yeah. But me too."

"You?" Jimin asks, bewildered, suddenly sitting up and moving away from you to stare into your eyes. "You're leaving?"

"Hey, relax," you giggle, shaking your head. "I'm not leaving forever. I'm just... I didn't tell you but... Granny passed away a few days ago. You know when it was raining really hard that night? Yeah, well that was because I was crying nonstop. She'd always wanted to be buried in Hawaii because that's where she met Gilbert. I'll be in Hawaii for a week—"

"Why don't you tell me anything until the last minute?" Jimin sighs. "You could've told me your granny passed away the day it happened. Why are you telling me now?" He struggles to keep his voice from trembling too hard. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her...

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep a straight face. "Because I knew I'd break down if I told you the day it happened."

"Y/N, it's okay to cry..."

"No, Jimin. It's not. I'm supposed to comfort you. I'm supposed to be the strong one that doesn't bat an eyelash when trauma comes her way. I'm supposed to be resilient, Jimin," you sigh. "I refuse to cry."

Jimin doesn't know what to say.

"I know," you say, leaning forward to grasp Jimin's warm hands. "I'm so sorry. I told you we'd go to the senior prom together. I'm so, so sorry, Jimin." You're smiling to reassure him, but your façade isn't fooling anyone—thunder clouds boom outside of your house, then the rain begins to fall. "I'm sorry, Jimin," you say again. "I want to make it up to you somehow."

Jimin had completely forgotten about going to prom until you had brought it up. You'd made those plans during freshman year, and both of you had been excited about it for all of high school. Now, it looks like those plans will be ruined. But Jimin knows how much you love your granny. She means way more than a silly prom night to you. He'll have to figure something out for himself. "You don't have to make anything up to me, Y/N," Jimin says. "I'm not going to prom, then, I guess."

"But you've been waiting for it since we were in ninth grade," you protest, shaking your head. "You were going to wear a green suit to match my green dress, remember?" you say in your secret language, a small smile playing on your lips. "I can get someone to go with you."

"It's fine, Y/N," Jimin says, shaking his head. "My dad wants me to start thinking about my future, anyway. I don't think he'll appreciate me going out without knowing what I want to study in college."

You nod. "Oh, okay, then."

"You're not going to college, are you?" Jimin whispers.

"I can't, Jimin," you shrug, a fake smile plastered on your lips. "I got a job at a restaurant as a waitress. I think I'll manage financially. You know, I think you should go into engineering or some pristine shit. You're too good at math and science."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jimin says as you cuddle into his chest again. He's known you for thirteen years now and he's never seen you this let down in his life. You're struggling to hide the gargantuan amount of pain you're feeling, but the weather is reflecting your emotions too well. Jimin never knows how to comfort you—partly because you're rarely upset, but also because he's scared you might leave him if he says the wrong words.

You're right.

Jimin's terrified of losing someone he loves. He's scared that you'll leave him one day.

Your senior year in high school is the last time Jimin sees you sad. It takes you a few months to adjust to a life without your granny, but after that, you jumped right back up and out of your misery. The years rolled on through delightful days and unforgettable nights. Both of you are 24 now and it seems like nothing has changed.

Jimin waits for you to come out of your house in your work uniform, and you do just a few minutes after he arrives.

"Hey!" you beam at him. "Hope you didn't sleep too late studying or whatnot."

Jimin laughs as the two of you begin to walk to your workplace. "I actually pulled an all-nighter studying for the mid-term," he shrugs, pointing at the dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Aww, Jimin," you coo. "I'm kind of glad I never went to college. Much less try for a master's degree. After your classes, wanna meet me during my night shift?"

"Sure," Jimin agrees. His eyes glance at your petite figure, admiring the bright look on your face and your sparkling eyes before realizing what you were wearing. "Oh, Y/N!"

"What?" you giggle. "Do you like it?"

"The manager isn't going to be happy about that, Y/N," Jimin sighs.

Your work uniform was black and red—a modest black dress with a cinched-in waist and short sleeves and a red waist apron. It was a uniform that Jimin thought made you look gorgeous, but he knew how much you hated it. You'd complained several times that the outfit was too dark and gloomy and that it made you look like a sexy vampire. And you do not like sexy vampires. (Jimin thinks that's because you always rooted for Jacob the "sexy werewolf" in the hit book series, The Twilight Saga.) But what could you do about it? The black and red uniform matched the colors of the logo of the restaurant you worked in: The Black Dress.

Yet it seems like you do not give a fuck.

You're now wearing a bright green skirt with a green fanny pack around your hips, and the white pirate blouse you bought on a shopping spree sale last Halloween. Your red waist apron is tied around your neck so it flows behind you like a cape. And to top it all off, there are green clips in your hair.

"I think I look outstanding!" you chirp, twirling around. "I'm still wearing my apron so I think I'll be fine."

"Y/N... You work at The Black Dress... You can't not be wearing a black dress!" Jimin cries. "You're going to get fired!"

"Nah, I'm not," you snort. "I think the new manager has a soft spot for me. He'll really like my rather innovative work uniform!"

"What if I come over during your night shift to find out that you're no longer working there?" Jimin protests. "How are you so sure he'll be fine with you not following the dress code?"

"Oh, Jimin," you giggle, shaking your head. "Live a little! Break a few fucking rules, will you? The manager and I are good friends. I'll be fine. We're still on for tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Jimin scoffs, "if you still have your job by then."

"I will!" you protest. "Do you wanna bet?"

"What? No!"

Jimin knows when you threaten to make a bet, you're always 100% sure you're going to win. He had lost a lot of money before he’d figured that out.

"See? I'll be fine, Jimin," you say, stopping your walking when you come in front of the restaurant. "Good luck on that mid-term, all right?" You give him one of your best grins, hitting his back encouragingly as you begin to walk backward towards the entrance of the restaurant. "You're going to ace it!" you yell in the secret language.

Jimin smiles brightly. He knows that your words of encouragement will do wonders to his score like always. "Thanks!" he calls. "Bye!"

You wave your arms frantically, nearly tripping on a rock as you do so (walking backwards is not your thing). With final grins exchanged, you head into the restaurant. Jimin watches as you leave, unable to hide the fierce blush of his cheeks. It's been almost two decades and he's failed to tell you that he loves you.

Meanwhile, you sashay into the restaurant, twirling around in your modified work uniform. "Hello, everyone!" you announce in your best singing voice.

"Good morning, Y/N," your manager offers, smiling at you as he walks up to greet you.

He's a handsome man, you must admit. In his early thirties, intelligent, good with his words and rather caring.

"It's just me for now," he chuckles. "I guess the others will come later."

"Wow, I can't believe I'm the first one here, Namjoon," you laugh. "I'm literally always the last. Isn't this the first?"

Your manager laughs as well. "This is a special day then, isn't it?"

"Every day is a special day. Is it not?"

"That's very true," Namjoon agrees. "Is that why you decided to ditch your work uniform, Y/N?" he teases. "I must say the modified version looks quite nice. Someone has a penchant for the color green doesn't she?"

"You caught me!" you exclaim, raising your hands up in mock guilt. "My best friend thought I'd get fired or something. He's such a plain Jane," you giggle. "But I love him though. He's coming over later during my night shift. Is that okay?"

"Of course that's okay," Namjoon smiles. "I thought he was your boyfriend. Doesn't he walk you here every day?"

You laugh so hard you snort. "Boyfriend? Boyfriend?! God, no! We've been friends for nearly two decades, Namjoon! I think one time we even showered together. We're literally best friends."

"Good," Namjoon grins. "Because I've been wanting to ask you out for a while."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. When are you free?" he asks.

"Hmm..." you think. "Well, I'm supposed to have a movie night with Jimin on Friday. On Saturday, Jimin and I are supposed to watch the water fountain show we bought tickets for like seven months ago... On Sunday I'm supposed to sleep over at his place so we can wake up on Monday at the same place, you know, so it'll be easier for Jimin to walk me here... I think I'm okay Sunday. As long as I get to Jimin's home by 8!"

Namjoon laughs at your long explanation, looking at you fondly. "I'll take you out on a cafe date. Then we can watch a movie and have an early dinner. How does that sound?"

"I like it!" you giggle. "I haven't been on a date in... damn, I've never been on a date."

"Really?" Namjoon asks, slightly bewildered. "No one's taken you out on a date? You?"

"Yeah!" you blush. "Why? Am I date-worthy?"

"You're very date-worthy, Y/N," Namjoon laughs. "Maybe everyone thought you were already taken. You know, you spend a lot of time with your best friend."

You snort. "Jimin and I hang out all the time but I never once thought of anything as a date. He probably thinks of me like I'm his sister!"

"Good, good," Namjoon grins. "So he won't be mad that I'll have to steal you away for a day."

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Jimin never gets mad. The last time he got slightly irritated with me was in senior year of high school."

"Great!" Namjoon says. "I'll see you at the cafe next door at 2?"

"Sure!" you exclaim.

"Everything's planned, then," Namjoon smiles. "Well, we have fifteen minutes left until the restaurant opens. Why don't you get dressed in your actual uniform? We have extras in the back, okay? Maybe I'll see you around today! I'm going to go check up on our chefs."

"Okay!" you nod. "Bye!" When he's out of view, you have to duck your head to hide your blushing red cheeks. When was the last time a man was interested in you? Never. You're not going to mess up on a perfect chance to date Kim Namjoon who's tall, handsome, intelligent and diligent. You don't think you can wait to meet Jimin during your night shift to tell him such good news. You might just accidentally text him right now! But you can't. Jimin's taking a test and you would be evil to distract him like that.

You've awaited your fairytale romance for 24 fucking years. Maybe you've finally found the Gilbert to your granny. Something about Kim Namjoon feels right.

You squeal giddily as you flee to the back counter of the restaurant, finding the extra black dress there as Namjoon said. You skip to the bathroom to get changed, folding up your modified uniform and stashing it somewhere in the back counter. Your radiance is obvious during your day shift—you get three times the amount of tips than usual. Namjoon even notices and compliments you on your diligence!

Usually, when your day shift is over by 4 p.m., you like to sit in the corner of the restaurant with a fresh magazine in hand and use Gilbert to correct all the embarrassing grammatical errors until it's time for your night shift. But today, Namjoon sits down across from you (because his work for today was over) and he asks what you're doing.

You spend the next two hours until your night shift explaining to Namjoon the intricacies of correct grammar. He seems to enjoy every minute of it. When you have to go back to work, Namjoon promises to see you tomorrow, which was Friday and wishes you the best on your night shift. You let out a dreamy sigh when he leaves.

How did you not notice such a great man like Namjoon was right in front of your face? Granted, it's only been a few weeks since he started working here, but still.

You're usually just a little bit tired (crazy, right? for such an energetic person like you) by the time you start your second shift, but you feel more energized than ever. By the time Jimin comes into the restaurant, you're serving the last customers and cleaning up the tables and pushing in the chairs.

"Hey!" you cry, rushing in to hug your friend. "How was the mid-term?"

"It was great!" Jimin beams. "You've been in a really good mood today, haven't you? The sun was out the whole day. Huh, and you're not fired, I see. Someone made you put on the uniform?"

"Yeah, Namjoon," you say dreamily. When Jimin makes a blank face, you clarify, "my manager."

"Oh? He wasn't mad?"

"No! He wasn't!" you giggle. "He asked me out on a date, Jimin! And then he told me to change into my uniform, but that's beside the point! We're supposed to meet on Sunday at the cafe next door at 2! This is my first date! You have to help me with what to wear!"

Jimin plasters on a giant grin for you, though his insides crumble. "That's great, Y/N! Maybe I can come over later and help you choose what to wear. Are you thinking of making it official? It sounds like you really like him..."

"I don't know yet," you hum. "But I know he's a great guy! You know how well I read people, right? He really likes Gilbert too! God, I think he's already gonna be my prince!"

Jimin nods. "Wow," he mumbles. "Do you know him very well?"

"Well, I know that his name is Kim Namjoon. And he's the day-time manager for The Black Dress," you say, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to think. "He has blonde hair... uh, he's tall and he likes to wear all black!"

"You don't know him very well, do you?" Jimin accuses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Y/N, how do you like him so much if you barely know him? Is it because he expressed interest in you? You can't just go liking people back just because they like you... You need to make judgments for yourself."

You pout, shaking your head. "It's not like that," you say. "And I made my judgment already! I like Kim Namjoon, Jimin. Besides, I will get to know him. Now, I'm gonna go close up the restaurant so sit tight, all right?"

Jimin nods, grumbling under his breath about how quickly you were moving on to like someone you barely gave a second look at. He does admit that he's a bit jealous... Who was this Kim Namjoon who just decided to waltz into your life and steal you away from him? Who was he to ask you out just based on physical attraction? Jimin can't believe you were falling for a guy you basically just met. But he does admit that you've always wanted some sort of fairytale romance. Is it too late for him to confess now?

"Why are you thinking so hard?" you giggle, making Jimin jump away from you from the suddenness. "I closed up the restaurant. Shall we go home?" You hold out your hand for Jimin to take, which he does after just a bit of hesitance.

"I was not thinking very hard," Jimin says.

"Oh, really?" you snort, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. "You were thinking so hard, a vein popped out in your forehead! A penny for your thoughts?"

When you hold out an actual penny for him to take, Jimin laughs, shaking his head. You huff, putting the penny back in your pocket. "It was nothing, Y/N."

"Wow, I didn't know nothing made you think so hard you looked angry," you tease. "You can tell me anything, you know."

"Yeah, of course," Jimin sighs, squeezing your hand and struggling to hide his actual feelings.

Damn. If he could control the weather with his emotions, it would be raining right now.

Jimin knew you would never be one to put your dates over your friends. That fact was confirmed for him when even though you got Namjoon's phone number, you never texted him when you were hanging out with Jimin—which was practically all the time.

Your Friday movie night was a blast, as usual. The two of you cuddled up on the couch and completely lost it over a hysterical comedy. And the Saturday hangout was even better with the majestic water fountain show. When the two of you separated that night, you ended up FaceTiming in each of your houses. Like Jimin had promised, he helped you pick out a cute but modest outfit for tomorrow—something that enhanced your best features (which Jimin thought is everything) and something that would make it very obvious that green is your color. You went to bed smiling because you were excited about your date with Namjoon tomorrow. Jimin went to bed smiling because you were the last person he saw before going to bed.

On Sunday morning, Jimin woke up, texted you to have fun on your date and began to study for his advanced thermodynamics class, which was a whole fucking pain in the ass. He skipped lunch, got a snack around early evening and waited for you to come over while he watched some kitten Youtube videos.

You were supposed to be back from your date by 8 p.m. It is promptly 8:07 and Jimin begins to get a bit nervous. Should he text? Call? 8:07 is such an ambiguous time. If he calls now, he'll sound clingy, like he's trying to interrupt your date with Namjoon. Well, Jimin wouldn't mind doing that, but he doesn't want to hurt your feelings and burst your idealistic bubble. Perhaps he should wait.

You're always late to everything, anyways. If Jimin wasn't in your life, you would've been late to every single day of school from kindergarten to high school. Hell, if he hadn't banged on your door for you to come out on graduation day, you might've never graduated high school. Maybe Gilbert fell out of your flimsy dress pocket and you're looking for it? (It's happened before so it could surely happen again.)

Alas, the door of Jimin's small apartment swings open and you practically skip through, giggling and twirling around. "Sorry I'm late!" you say, rushing over to where Jimin was slouched on the couch and cuddling up next to him.

You smell faintly masculine. Jimin struggles not to make an unflattering face—that was no doubt Namjoon's cologne. He wonders what base Namjoon took you to tonight. Did you kiss him? Did you make out with him? Have... sex?

He shudders thinking about it.

No. That couldn't have happened. They were in public places the whole time. Unless...

He glances over at you who's stripping off your jewelry, socks and jacket. You're too busy tying up your hair into a messy bun to notice Jimin staring at your lips. Had Namjoon kissed you goodbye?

Jimin shames himself for having these thoughts. He should be happy for you. Besides, you weren't even that late. It's only 8:10.

"You wouldn't believe why I was like, ten minutes late," you giggle, stretching out your legs and sitting in an unflattering position that hikes your dress up to your mid-thigh. Jimin struggles not to look down.

"Really?" he asks. "What happened?"

You snort. "Okay, so—wait do you have my makeup remover wipes here? And can I borrow some sweats? I totally forgot to bring a change of clothes. Sorry!" you say.

Jimin nods. "Yeah, the wipes are in my bedroom where you last left them and um, you can find some of my t-shirts in the first drawer of the cabinet next to my bed."

"Okay, thanks, Jimin!" you giggle, quickly bouncing up from your spot. When you see that Jimin's still glued to his seat, you laugh. "I can't tell you the story when you're that far away from me! Get up! I'll tell you the story while I change."

Jimin flushes at the thought. "Y-Yeah, okay," he stutters. You tug him into his own bedroom, snatching the makeup wipes from the nightstand and beginning to wipe off your light makeup. Jimin sits down on his bed, cross-legged, attentively waiting for you to start your story.

"Okay, anyways, Joon—"

"Joon?"

"Yeah, it's like my little nickname for Namjoon, isn't it adorable? Where was I? Right!" you mutter to yourself as you furiously scrub off the remnants of your mascara. "We were coming out of the movie theater, right? I found out Gilbert wasn't in my pocket! And I was just about to turn around to tell Joon my misfortune but he was already facing me and yelling, 'I FORGOT MY PHONE!' "

You take a moment to skillfully aim the wipe into Jimin's trash bin, squealing when it goes in completely clean. Jimin claps politely for you.

"Thank you," you bow dramatically. "Oh yeah, where was I?" You begin to make your way towards Jimin's bedroom cabinet, pulling out the first drawer and inspecting your choices of nightwear and sticking your hand in the neatly folded clothes to rummage through and pick your poison. "So, naturally, Joon and I went back into the theater and—ooh, Jimin you have a few condoms in here! Are you getting it on these days?"

"Y/N!" Jimin shrieks, scrambling over and snatching the condom you were teasingly holding out before chucking it into his closet and slamming the door shut. "T-That's private."

"Oh, really?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Come on, Y/N. I'm a virgin, you know that."

You raise your eyebrows. "It looks like you're tired of being one though," you tease.

Jimin can't look you in the eyes. His face burns with humiliation. He can't possibly explain why he had bought those condoms. Back when he was an undergraduate, he had been desperate to get over his feelings for you—so desperate, in fact, that he had purchased his first batch of contraceptives to have sex with other women and completely forget about you. But he never had the guts to try. How could he? When he was so hopefully in love with you that he couldn't imagine himself being sexually active with someone else. Er, not that he sees himself being sexually active with you. But—

I need to stop thinking about this.

"Aw, Jiminie," you coo. "It's okay to be a virgin," you say in your secret language as you sit down on the bed with one of Jimin's favorite black t-shirts in hand. Jimin believes you must've thought he was pissed off at you for teasing him about being inexperienced. "I'm a virgin too, right?" you say. "I'm waiting for my prince!"

Jimin breathes a sigh of relief. So you hadn't had sex with Namjoon tonight. For some reason, he feels much better after hearing that. "You know what, Y/N?" he smiles. "I'm waiting for my princess."

You smile so bright it lights up the room. "Good," you say. "Let's get married on the same day, then. A double wedding in a castle far, far away!" you place a dramatic hand over your forehead. "Now! Where was I for the hundredth time? Oh, yeah! Joon and I went back to the theater," you say, starting to unzip your dress.

Jimin's eyes turn wide and he quickly turns his back towards you, making you laugh.

"I'm not putting on a strip show," you giggle. "You don't have to be so embarrassed about it!"

"I-I, uh, I'll just give you some privacy. Tell me when you're done," Jimin manages to choke out.

"So gentlemanly. How do you not have a girlfriend yet?" you chuckle to yourself, sliding the sleeves of the dress of your shoulders and dragging the fabric off of your body. "Okay, okay, okay. I need to focus. Anyways, Joon and I went back into the movie theater and the first thing we did was to go back into the room where we watched the movie—great film, by the way—and we literally scrounged around everywhere for my poor Gilbert and Joon's phone! But to no avail! It was as if both of them disappeared!"

You toss your dress on the floor, unclip your bra and tug Jimin's shirt on in smooth motions.

"Jimin, you can look now," you say.

He turns around, ears slightly pink and eyes averted. Quickly, Jimin sits down on his bed, across from you. "You can continue your story," he offers.

You grin. "So, Joon was panicking at this point because he lost his phone. And I was about to burst into tears because I lost Gilbert, you know?"

Jimin nods in response.

"Yeah, so I figured I'd have to be late coming to your apartment because I can't just leave without Gilbert! When I reached into my purse to get my phone to tell you of my misfortune, guess what happened. Guess! Guess!"

Jimin pouts. "Can't you just tell me?"

You roll your eyes. "I was building the story up just so you could literally guess what happened with no problem," you huff. "Fine, then. I reached into my purse to get my phone and I pulled out Namjoon's instead! Turns out, before the movie, Joon was holding all the snacks and he dropped his phone. So, you know, I picked it up and couldn't give it back to him so I just put it in my purse!"

Jimin smiles. "And you forgot you put it in your purse?"

"Well, yeah!" you giggle. "I was so worried about Gilbert!"

"Did you find him?" Jimin asks.

You snort. "Is that even a question, Jimin? I wouldn't be this happy right now if I hadn't. You'd never guess where Gilbert was, Jimin."

"So there's no point in me trying, right?" he responds, teasingly. But when he sees your death glare, he sighs. "Fine. Was Gilbert in Namjoon's purse?"

"HA!" you exclaim. "Good one! But no, it was in my right pocket."

"Oh, Y/N," Jimin says, leaning back on his bed. "You only checked your left pocket before you declared Gilbert missing, huh?"

"Yessir!" you laugh. "Joon and I got a good laugh out of it. He told me I'm really silly! And, get this, he said I'm a natural!"

"Really?" Jimin says. "A natural at what?"

"Dating!" you squeal. "He told me I'm naturally cuddly and adorable and kissable and—god, my heart exploded in my chest!!!"

Kissable???

"But I told him I don't kiss on first dates—not that I've never been on another one... You know? Like you need to give them something to long for!" you laugh, spreading out on Jimin's bed while looking up at his ceiling. "I read that from a romance novel somewhere. And it worked! He asked me out on our second date during our first date! Am I amazing or what?"

"Oh, Y/N," Jimin sighs.

"Oh, Jimin," you mock right back. "Anyways, shall we go to bed early? My princess beauty sleep is waiting!" you sing, making your way to Jimin's bathroom. "I'm gonna wash up, okay?"

"All right," Jimin answers, getting up to turn off the lights of his room. He crawls back into his bed, waiting for you to join him. A few minutes later, you do, tucking yourself in on the left side of the bed and snuggling Jimin's blankets as you sigh out.

No matter how many times he's slept beside you, Jimin feels like his heart will beat out of his chest every time. It feels wrong, to sleep in the same bed as adults when you're in nothing but a platonic relationship with him. Yet something about it feels so right... And you've been doing it since you were kids and upholding tradition is pretty important to both of you.

Jimin double-checks to make sure he isn't pulling the blanket covers too hard. He doesn't want you left with anything to stay warm through the night.

"Goodnight, Jimin," you whisper.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispers back.

And he drifts off to sleep. Only in his dreams can his longing to be with you come true.

Jimin is always your priority. You have a lot of friends, but when it comes to who you're willing to spend the most time with, it's Jimin. And it's always been like that—since that one fateful day in kindergarten to now. Er, kind of.

These days, your priorities may have shifted just a tiny bit.

It's been like that ever since Namjoon took you out on that stupid fifth date, which was the date that marked the official start of your romantic relationship with him. Jimin had sulked in his bed that whole day when you'd first texted him the news. But later, he forced himself to get up and have a cup of coffee with you in the cafe next to your workplace. He feigned a smile for you and told you that Namjoon was one lucky man.

And he was.

Now that Namjoon is officially your boyfriend, Jimin had to share you with him. It's unfair. Jimin's known you for nearly two decades, but Kim Namjoon decided to waltz into your life one day and win you over in less than a month. What did Namjoon have that Jimin didn't??

But no matter how bitter your relationship with Namjoon made Jimin feel, he hid it away from you. Besides, you are practically glowing these days. Whatever Namjoon tells you makes you absolutely radiant. And Namjoon must be a good man because you come over to Jimin's apartment after every date happy and bubbly like it was your first. So he's definitely treating you right.

You don't get to spend as much time with Jimin anymore, too. Sometimes, Jimin asks if you're available for lunch or dinner but half the time you've already made reservations with your boyfriend. Yet you always make sure you see Jimin at least five days a week (two days less than what was before, but it's a small price Jimin's willing to pay for your heightened happiness).

Since your birthday is coming up, Jimin's been putting the finishing touches on your present—the one he's been preparing since the day after your last birthday. This year, you've already made him a short little flipbook (that you drew yourself) about the first time the two of you had first met for Jimin's birthday. The gift was rather nostalgic and it had almost made him cry. Jimin hopes the present he makes for you this year will make you cry. In a good way, of course.

You and Jimin share every single one of your birthdays. It's been an ongoing tradition since Jimin turned six before you did. This year is no different. You had to tell a very bummed Namjoon that you already made dinner reservations with your best friend so he'd had to give you your present when you ate lunch with him earlier that day.

Jimin doesn't really think Namjoon likes him that much. He always eyes Jimin with some sort of suspect as if Jimin was going to steal you away from him. Hmph. The feeling is reciprocal.

When you came to your favorite restaurant wearing your favorite green dress, Jimin had already ordered the food and was patiently waiting with his hand-made present.

"Hey!" you cry as you slide into the seat.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" Jimin smiles. "You look great!"

"Right?" you giggle, tossing your perfectly curled hair over your shoulder. "I felt like for my 25th birthday, I'd have to wear something cute. I'm halfway to the fucking 50 years old, Jimin. I'm aging too quickly," you huff, crossing your arms over your shoulder. "Did you order already?"

"O-Oh, yeah," Jimin says. "Why? Did you want something different?"

"No, I just wanted to check if the menus had any grammatical errors," you laugh, shrugging. "Oh well, when we get dessert menus, I'll check out RM."

"RM?"

"Oh! It's part of the gift Joon gave me," you exclaim, pulling out a—

"Red marker?" Jimin scrunches his eyebrows. "For your birthday?"

You nod, placing the marker on your desk and rolling it towards Jimin so he can pick it up and examine it. Jimin does, scrutinizing the marker that was most definitely not as great as Gilbert.

"Well, Joon always saw that I was correcting grammatical errors with Gilbert and he thought that something red would be more emphatic, you know?" you explain, taking out Gilbert from your left pocket. "Of course I love Gilbert more, but I thought I'd give RM a try. Besides, Joon said red serves as the better color for correcting. He said the color itself brings alert to the problem and that green is too passive. I guess I can see that."

Jimin frowns. "But you like green because it's 'passive,' " Jimin sighs as he makes air quotes with his hands. "And it doesn't make the corrections seem as rude and aggressive."

"I know, Jimin," you smile. "I'll try RM out once and keep it on a shelf somewhere. Gilbert's not going anywhere. You know that. Besides, Joon was really insistent that I tried it out, you know? He was so thoughtful too! I think it's a great gift! And I think it's endearing that he named it RM for me. Did you know RM used to be his nickname when he was back in college and in an acapella group? The man can sing! What can he not do?" you gush.

"He named the marker after himself?" Jimin snorts. Typical.

"Well, yeah, I guess he did!" you laugh. "It's like I'm always carrying around a mini him!"

Bleh.

"Yeah," Jimin agrees without much heart. "Oh, wanna see what I got you for your birthday?" he asks, hoping to steer the conversation away from your boyfriend.

"OH MY GOD, YES!" you exclaim. "I've been waiting for this moment since my last birthday."

"Good," Jimin grins as he whips out a box with pretty, green wrapping. "Here."

You take it from him, shaking the box wildly and with wide, happy eyes. "It's kinda heavy!" you comment, beginning to rip the wrapping off. You skillfully force the box open with the butt of your fork. When you finally see your present, you gasp. "Oh, Jimin, you fucking didn't."

"I fucking did," Jimin smiles proudly. "Open it."

You carefully take a photo book out of the box, your eyes glued on the beautiful front cover. "God. I'm tearing up just looking at the front," you laugh. "Where'd you even get these photos?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Here and there, you know?"

Jimin had made sure the cover of the photo book would be littered with childhood photos he and you had taken when you were younger. The rest of the book is filled with little memories the two of you shared growing up with captions and comments underneath. There are a total of 392 photos in the book. And Jimin had spent seven months accumulating them—mostly from his father's old camera and Jimin's old Nokia phone he dug out from his garage. You'd always wanted a photo book, so Jimin thought it was time to gift you with one.

You're excitedly flipping through the pages, spending more time to stare at the more sentimental photos. Even when the food arrives, you can't put the book away. You're so distracted with Jimin's present that you don't even try to correct the grammar errors on the dessert menus. So Jimin grabs Gilbert and makes corrections himself. He puts the correct accents on crème brûlée and corrects a rather obvious spelling error. Then, he proceeds to order two strawberry cheesecakes. Surprisingly, even when the dessert arrives, you don't put the book down.

It's rare when something entrances you so much that you don't speak for long periods of time. You haven't spoken a single word to Jimin ever since you'd started flipping through the photo book, and Jimin finds that he doesn't mind at all. He loves watching how your face relaxes and contorts again as the memories of your childhood flood through you. The last photo in the book is the one your granny took of you and Jimin fighting over the last glazed donut when the two of you were in first grade. Spoiler alert: you'd won. But you had also felt bad after watching Jimin sulk so you'd broken the donut in half and handed a piece to your best friend.

When you finally catch sight of the last photo, you gasp, putting a hand over your lips.

"Granny," you whisper. "She took this photo. I remember..."

You're practically clouded with nostalgia and Jimin swears he sees tears welling up in your eyes. But you won't cry over something as simple as this. It's the fact that you loved his gift so much that you almost cried that counts.

"Gosh... Jimin," you breathe, fanning your eyes. "I'm not crying, by the way. Something's in my eye, I don't know," you mumble.

Jimin grins.

"I don't even know what to say, Jimin. I love it. I'll cherish it forever. Thank you. God, it's perfect," you say. "Wow. You're leaving me speechless, Jimin. And it's very hard to shut me up. You're something special."

Jimin practically beams. All the time and effort he'd spent on your birthday gift had really paid off. He loves seeing you so happy that you can't even describe what you're feeling in words.

You carefully shut the photo book, setting it off to the side before staring right into Jimin's eyes. "I would totally fucking say I love you right now but I don't think Joon would appreciate it."

"What?" Jimin breathes as his heart flutters in his chest. "But he's not here right now."

"He doesn't like it when I do 'romantic' things with you," you sigh as you lean back. "We had a long discussion about it a few days ago."

"Romantic things?" Jimin makes a face. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"Oh, it's not a big deal!" you exclaim, waving your hands. "He just thinks, well, he thinks that some of the stuff that I do with you... um, is not really, uh, platonic."

Ah. Jimin sees where you're going with this. And now it's obvious why Joon always looks at him so suspiciously—Namjoon feels threatened by Jimin.

"How so?" Jimin asks but he already knows the answer.

"Like um, he doesn't like it when I sleep over at your place, you know?" you say, fidgeting in your seat. "And he really put his foot down when I told him we sometimes share a bed. He said I shouldn't really do that with you anymore."

Jimin understands where Namjoon is coming from. But at the same time, he feels as if Namjoon had violated his rights. His rights to be with you.

"I can't hold hands with you either," you say, looking down at your uneaten strawberry cheesecake. "I'm so sorry, Jimin. I know we've been doing it for so long and I swear, I didn't know it was strictly a relationship thing. But apparently it is, and it made Joon uncomfortable that we were holding hands when I'm really dating him and just—" you stop yourself from rambling, sighing as you take a sip of your ice water. "And I really love him, Jimin," you whisper. "I don't want to lose him."

"You love him already?" Jimin says with a slight tremor in his voice that you completely look over. "It's only been a month, Y/N."

"Love has nothing to do with time," you smile wistfully. "He's my prince, Jimin. If I let him go, he'll find someone else."

Jimin's silent, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't hurt your feelings.

You take his silence as a bad sign. "Jimin, I didn't want to break all of this to you on a celebration night but I felt like you deserved to know earlier," you say in your secret language. "I'm sorry. It was all part of our tradition too."

"It's fine," Jimin sighs. But it's really not. Yet Jimin hides his pain by shoving a forkful of cake into his mouth. He chews slowly, swallows. "What Joon's suggesting is pretty justified. Don't worry about it."

The rest of your birthday dinner is somewhat awkward. Of course, you try to save the mood by cracking a few jokes here and there, but Jimin finds it hard to laugh. It's the worst birthday he's ever celebrated with you.

You and Joon have only started dating for a month, but so much as changed already. Jimin doesn't even want to think of the drastic changes that might follow as your relationship with your 'prince' deepens and blossoms into something even more serious.

When Jimin arrives at your home to walk you to work on a Monday morning, he does a double-take because he finds you already waiting outside, shivering from the chilly air in nothing but your plain work uniform. Never in the twenty years that he's known you have you ever been on your doorstep before him.

"Y/N?" Jimin asks, bewildered. "What happened?"

"Hey!" you exclaim, waving at your best friend enthusiastically. "Nothing happened. I'm just trying to get into the habit of being early. It's not a good habit to be late all the time."

"Your face is red, Y/N!" Jimin says, shrugging his thick coat off and handing it to you and you take it gratefully. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Eh, just a few minutes," you say, sniffling your runny nose and grinning. "I'm as red as RM! Besides, the sun's shining. You know what that means? I'm fine."

Jimin shakes his head. "You should've waited inside. I'm okay with waiting. I've done it for twenty years so I wouldn't mind doing it for more."

"Joon told me I should get into the habit of being early," you giggle. "I've been late to every single one of our dates so far, you know?"

"Well, you've been late to every single one of our hangouts but I never said anything," Jimin scoffs.

"It's different with you," you say, smiling.

How? Jimin so desperately wants to ask. But he's afraid of your answer.

You wrap Jimin's black coat tighter around yourself as you skip down the porch steps. "C'mon! I wanna get to work super early!"

It takes only a week later for Jimin to realize you like going to work early because your boyfriend's already there, waiting for you.

You've been with Namjoon for about three months now, and the effects are starting to impact Jimin's life rather largely. For starters, you're spending way less time with him than before. The daily routines you had established with him for years are broken as you mold your lifestyle in the way that Namjoon wants you to. Jimin hates change more than anything. You should know that.

And you do. You apologize profusely—any chance you get—about the little changes in his lifestyle because of you; Jimin never blames you, though.

When you missed his grad school graduation because Namjoon bought you expensive vacation tickets to an acclaimed resort in Hawaii, Jimin didn't blame you.

It was Namjoon who had bought the tickets and it was Namjoon who told you the trip wasn't refundable. It was Namjoon who wanted to take you away from Jimin for a week. You promised you would FaceTime him.

And you're the best promise-keeper in the world.

"How is it there?" Jimin asks in the secret language as he lounges on his couch. "Is the weather nice?"

"It's beautiful!" you exclaim, moving out of the screen to show Jimin the sparkling blue-green oceans behind you. "We went snorkeling a few hours ago and we just had lunch so we're waiting to digest our food before we dive in again! I wish you were here," you pout. "I'm sorry I missed your graduation, by the way. Was your father there?"

"Yeah, he was. Don't worry about that," Jimin says. "I'm glad you're having fun."

"Aw, thanks!" you giggle. "Joon really outdid himself with all of this. Oh, how's your job status, by the way?"

"I got the job," Jimin smiles. "I didn't go through with those extra few years of school for nothing."

"HA!" you snort. "If I actually went to college, I would've been kicked out for literally failing every class. Remember when I got a 32% on that physics test? God, I hated Mr. Chung. Look at that! After all of these years, I still remember his goddamn name!"

Jimin shakes from laughter. "Of course I remember! Mr. Chung told me to tutor you or something."

"And then you told Mr. Chung that—"

"Baby?" Namjoon calls off-screen, interrupting you mid-sentence.

You turn around to look at him. "Yeah, babe? Oh, wait, sorry. I mean, yeah, babe?"

Jimin can hear Namjoon sighing. "Baby, can you please, refrain from using that secret language of yours in public?" he whispers. "I'm so sorry, but it sounds a bit like a chicken is being repeatedly run over by a car and people are starting to stare."

Jimin's about to give Namjoon a piece of his mind when you cut in before him.

"Aw, I'm sorry Joon," you giggle. "I made the language when I was really young. Explains a lot, doesn't it? Sorry, Jimin," you tell the camera. "I guess we'll have to stop our encrypted conversation."

"And baby?" Namjoon calls. "We're on vacation! Technology should be off when we have such beautiful scenery around us."

Jimin grits his teeth.

"Right!" you laugh. "Silly me. Sorry, Jimin," you say again, not even looking into the camera this time. "I have to go! I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye!"

Before Jimin can even answer, you end the call. Jimin's left staring right back at his own frustrated face. He chucks his phone across his couch and covers his face with his hands.

At first, Jimin didn't like Namjoon because he was jealous. But now, it's come to more than that. Namjoon's been trying to change the little quirks and habits that made you, you; he's trying to mold you into the same society you rebelled against for all of your life. He's trying to take you away from Jimin. He's trying to strip you of everything you were before you met him.

But what can Jimin do about it?

You're too head over heels in love with this Kim Namjoon. That man is the self-proclaimed prince to your princess. Jimin can't help but think he's the ogre. A handsome, successful ogre who strikes slowly, so slowly that the damage cannot be detected until it's too late.

If Jimin tries to warn you about Namjoon and his dubious intentions, you might not believe him and hate Jimin for life. If Jimin says nothing, he might not be able to recognize you in a few years' time at the rate the changes are happening now.

Jimin doesn't know what to do. He hates confrontations—that had always been your job, not his. So he does what he always does: nothing.

Being with you every day is a mystery. You have something new up your sleeve every single day without fail. Whether it be a new fashion style or a new gadget you made, you're always flaunting something that others wouldn't dare flaunt. And that's what made you so special.

But the crazy color schemes that had once been in your closet have been reduced to dark, muted colors. The Halloween costumes you kept every year to wear as everyday clothes were sitting on a rack in some Goodwill store. You dressed... plainly now.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with that. It's just not you. It is Namjoon though. Besides from Jimin, Namjoon is the plainest man he knows. And so far, switching out your wardrobe was definitely not your idea, though you seem to believe it is. That Kim Namjoon. He's planting these stupid ideas in your head and you're absorbing them like a sponge, too kind and docile and a bit too naive to disagree with your boyfriend.

Jimin's heard the way you talk about him. Your eyes gloss over with complete adoration and you giggle at everything Namjoon does. You're madly in love with him, and Jimin can't do anything about it except watch.

But no matter how many of your habits and physical lifestyle Namjoon can change, he can't touch your personality. You're the same girl Jimin's known and loved for years and years of his life. And he's not going to let you go anytime soon.

"JIMIN!!!" you yell, almost knocking your friend over by hugging him the moment you open your apartment door to see his face. "You're two minutes late!" you pout as you drag him over in front of your television. "I already picked a movie!"

Jimin can't deny Friday movie nights with you is the only thing he looks forward to these days. Though you don't cuddle with him on the couch anymore, you like to lean against his shoulder. And that's enough contact for Jimin to be satisfied.

"Really?" Jimin grins. "What movie?"

"Interstellar!" you say, collapsing on your couch as you aggressively pat the empty seat next to you. "Hurry up! Hurry up! I'm excited!"

"Y/N? Are you sure?" Jimin asks as he sits down next to you with a confused look on his face. Usually, when you choose a movie, you always end up reverting back to your classic favorite Disney princess films. "I know you don't really like sci-fi..."

"Yeah, but I told Namjoon I already watched that movie, but I haven't. So now I need to watch it," you explain quickly. "You like sci-fi, though, so you can explain all the things I don't get! Which would be half of the movie."

There Namjoon goes again. Making you watch movies that literally lull you to sleep.

"Okay," Jimin sighs. He doesn't have the guts to tell you that he's watched this movie hundreds of times.

By the time the roll credits are playing on the screen, you're completely knocked out. Well, you've been knocked out since the first twenty minutes of the film. Jimin's been watching you sleep for the rest of the two hours and thirty minutes of the film. (Not in a creepy way—an endearing way.) He had to stop himself multiple times from reaching out and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and away from your face.

God. Jimin needs a drink of water. Is it just him or is the room getting hotter?

He stands up slowly and quietly, making sure he wouldn't disturb your peaceful beauty sleep. Jimin's known your home since he was five; he could walk blindfolded to the kitchen if someone made him. He finds refuge near your water dispenser, fanning his face and taking his own cup from the cupboard. Your granny had bought that blue cup for him years ago, gifting you with a separate green cup. It's the only cup you use at home.

Jimin fills his cup with water, downing all of it in one large gulp. The water helps him cool off just a tad bit. He moves to place his used cup in the sink, his eyes habitually glancing over at your trash can.

You never remember to put a plastic bag inside it, which makes the gross remnants of your waste stick to your trash can. And Jimin can definitely say that that stench is horrendous. Jimin sighs as he finds an empty Walmart plastic bag rolling around your kitchen. He approaches the trash can, holding his breath just in case. But when he checks inside, there is nothing in it except for—

"GILBERT?" Jimin gasps loudly.

"JIMIN?!" you shriek. There's a resounding thud in the living room and a small "oof," from you as you lay sprawled on the floor.

"Y/N!" Jimin yells.

You dash over to your kitchen, rubbing your eyes and trying to adjust to the bright kitchen lights. "Jimin?" you say, your brows furrowed as you approach your friend who's pointing aggressively at your trash can with wide, angry eyes. "Oh," you say softly when you realize what he's talking about. "Right..."

"Why is Gilbert in the trash, Y/N?" Jimin asks, running his fingers through his hair as he grips the kitchen counter for stability. "Was it Namjoon? Did he do this?"

"No!" you shout. "I did it, Jimin. I tossed Gilbert in the trash."

"Why?" Jimin whispers, taking a step away from you. "That marker's everything to you."

"I know, Jimin, I know," you groan. "It dried out. It's ages old, you know?"

"But you take such good care of it, Y/N." Jimin shakes his head. "And you're just tossing it away like that because it dried out? What about your grandfather? What about your granny?"

"Jimin, it's fine. I'm fine," you say, shrugging. "It's time I let go, you know?

"Let go of what, Y/N? The only family you've known?" Jimin sighs. "What happened to saving the world by correcting their grammatical errors?"

"Its," you reply.

"What?" Jimin says exasperatedly.

"Saving the world by correcting its grammatical errors," you say, a slow smile emerging on your face as Jimin shakes his head to hide his own grin beginning to manifest on his face. "I'm sorry, Jimin. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking," you say. "Well, I wasn't. Joon and I had our first fight today."

"Oh..."

"No, don't you 'oh' me, Park Jimin!" you laugh. "It's really not that bad! He told me I had a premature taste in films and an immature outlook on life, but I mean, he's not wrong, you know? I tried to stay awake watching Interstellar. I really did. But Joon's right. I can't like anything that's advanced. And I realized that it's a crime to vandalize, too..."

"So you threw Gilbert away because of that?"

"Well, yeah," you say. "It's a crime, Jimin. I didn't even know until Joon told me! He's so wise!"

"Oh, god," Jimin groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Ah, c'mon, Jiminie," you say, grabbing his wrists and trying to pry his hands away from his face. "He's helping me move on, you know? He's helping me become a better person!"

A better person.

The words sting. If your definition of a 'better person' is losing the spark, the color of your life, then fine. You were already a better person than before. But all Jimin can see is the monochrome you. The you without color. Which doesn't really seem like you at all.

But it hasn't rained in a while, so maybe you were truly fine with losing your color. Either that or you had also lost the ability to control the weather with your emotions. Jimin wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

Jimin is a patient man. Not only has he waited twenty years for you to love him back (which you never did), but also he never outwardly expressed his frustrations with your change in lifestyle to you.

Besides, if Namjoon's making you that happy, then there really was no problem, right?

Wrong.

You call Jimin on Sunday with the worst news ever imaginable.

"I'm moving!" you squeal and Jimin can hear you jumping up and down on your bed from the other line. "Joon asked me to move in with him!!"

You've only dated him for four months.

"H-He did?" Jimin stutters, cursing himself for sounding so pathetically off-guard. "What about your home? Your granny's home?"

You've lived in that house ever since you were born until now.

"I can't live in that house, forever, Jimin. I want to move on!" you say. "Plus, I think Joon and I are ready to take our relationship to the next level!"

"That's ridiculous," Jimin mutters, raking his fingers through his hair in pure frustration.

"Sorry?" you say.

Shit. Jimin had forgotten you were still on the phone.

"Nevermind," he sighs.

"Jiminie," you say with that characteristic lilt in your voice. "You can tell me what you're thinking you know! I haven't been your ride or die best friend for twenty years to not know what's going on with you."

"I know," Jimin says. But he can't tell you that he absolutely despises your boyfriend. It'll break your heart. And Jimin doesn't want to be the reason for your unhappiness. "Congratulations, Y/N," he says. "I hope you like your new place, then."

"I love it, Jimin!" you squeal. "Joon remodeled his bedroom recently and damn it's just so beautiful! I'll finally be living in a castle with my prince!"

"That's great, Y/N!"

"I know, right?" you exclaim in such a voice that Jimin can tell you're absolutely beaming on the other line. "You have to come over when the move's finished! You know what? Come over this Friday for movie night! I wanna give you a tour of my new home!"

"Namjoon won't mind?" Jimin asks.

"He's going out with friends that night," you giggle. "We'll have the whole place to ourselves! Did you know Joon has a flat-screen TV?? It's humongous!"

The offer sounds very tempting. Watching a movie on a high-end television with you on a Friday night? Hell yes. It almost makes up for the fact that you're moving out of the house you and Jimin had practically grown up in.

God, Jimin can't wait for Friday to come.

It's Jimin's turn to choose the movie when Friday night finally rolls around. Since he knows you nearly idolize Rapunzel, he suggests the two of you rewatch Tangled for probably the millionth time. But before the movie had to come the house tour, of course.

Namjoon's home is rather spacious for a guy who was single for a long time. You parade around the home as you've already lived in it your whole life. Jimin silently tags along. He has to admit that Namjoon's home is, indeed, better than your granny's old house. But he nearly bursts with jealousy when you show him around the big bedroom that you supposedly share with Namjoon.

"Isn't it great?!" you say, twirling around the commodious room with a bright grin on your face. "Joon even bought new sheets for us! I wanted green and he wanted white, so we went with light gray," you giggle. "Compromise of the century, huh?"

"Still looks white to me," Jimin mutters under his breath. But you're so hyped about showing your best friend around your boyfriend's home that you don't hear him.

"C'mon, let's go watch Tangled, now!" you say, dragging Jimin back to Namjoon's expensive leather couch and switching on the flat-screen TV.

Both of you collapse on the couch, leaning against each other by habit as the movie begins to play on the screen. Jimin's watched the film with you so many times that he's basically memorized the whole script.

You like to silently mouth Rapunzel's lines and Jimin mouths Eugene Fitzherbert's lines. You also like to sing when Rapunzel does, and you've been trying to convince Jimin for years to sing with you. But Jimin does not sing. And that was that.

No matter how many times you've watched Tangled, you cry when Eugene Fitzherbert 'dies.' Before you were dating Namjoon, you'd always bury yourself in Jimin's arms, waiting until the climax of the scene is over. Nowadays, you limit yourself to placing your head on Jimin's shoulder, burying your face in Namjoon's couch pillows. Jimin doesn't mind. He likes that you take comfort in his presence.

Just as the tension of the scene is about to lift, the front door of the house opens and Namjoon walks in. But you're so engrossed in the movie that you barely notice, instead, digging your face harder into the pillow.

Jimin's head jerks towards Namjoon and their eyes meet. Namjoon doesn't look very happy. For just a split second, Jimin fears his life. He takes the time to scoot a bit away from you so Namjoon doesn't come for his neck. You whine when Jimin pulls away, trying to tug him back as your eyes are glued to the TV.

"Y/N..." Jimin whispers. "Your boyfriend's here."

"Oh, what?!" you say, breaking from the trance that the movie had put on you and finally turning your head to see a frowning Namjoon. "Joon! You came back so early!"

"Why is he here?" Namjoon asks, ignoring your enthusiasm. He doesn't look at you when he speaks, his eyes trained on Jimin, instead. Jimin gulps.

"It's Friday movie night!" you laugh. "We're watching Tangled! Oh, Jimin can you pause the movie? Damn, we'll have to rewind it. Wanna watch with us?"

"No, Jimin," Namjoon says through gritted teeth. "Turn the TV off. Y/N, this is not your home. It is ours. You're to tell me if you are to have guests over." He glares at Jimin again. "Then we can talk if they are welcome here or not."

"I-I, uh, I have to go," Jimin stutters, desperately, standing up from the couch.

"But we didn't even finish the movie!" you protest, grabbing Jimin's wrist and looking at him with puppy dog eyes. "We always finish the movie."

"Y/N, we need to talk. Let him go," Namjoon says, crossing his arms.

"I—" you sigh, letting go of Jimin's wrist. "Okay..."

It hurts to watch you look down at your feet like Namjoon was scolding you. You look so small, powerless up against him that just for one, small second, Jimin contemplates staying. Maybe give Kim Namjoon a piece of his mind.

But who is he kidding? Jimin could never compare himself to a man like Namjoon.

"I'll uh, talk to you later," Jimin quickly says. He doesn't look back when he leaves and you watch him go with a certain emptiness in your heart.

The moment Jimin's out the door, he runs. He runs from your boyfriend, your obvious pain... He runs away from himself. But he should know. No one can outrun cowardliness.

You're really the only significant figure in his life; the only person he's loved for twenty consecutive years. Yet he can't do anything to save you from the obvious monster that is your boyfriend. Jimin hates himself for that.

He crash-lands on his bed, burying himself in his pillows and drowning in self-hatred. He lays still for what seems like hours in the darkness, the silence. He tries to numb his thoughts. But when his vision is nothing but a black screen, he cannot do anything but think.

He thinks of the fight you might be having with Namjoon. He thinks of how sad you must be inside. He wonders if you genuinely like being with Namjoon. He wonders if you're genuinely happy. But most of all, he wants to know if you miss your old self.

Jimin groans when he hears his phone ring next to him. He doesn't want to get up nor move, but something inside tells him that it's important. That it might be you.

And it is.

Hurriedly, Jimin answers the call. "Y/N?"

"H-Hey, J-Jimin," you wheeze.

Jimin freezes. You're crying. And everyone knows you don't cry.

"Y/N?!" Jimin panics, sitting up. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Of course I'm okay!" you yell, making Jimin wince at the harshness of your voice in his ear. "Joon and I just fought! I'm fine!" you sniffle. "You said to talk to you later so I'm calling you!" you try to laugh but it comes out like a broken sob. "I'm not crying, I swear!"

Bullshit.

This is the third time Jimin's heard you cry. The first two times had been because of your granny. This time? It was because of that bastard, Namjoon.

"Did he do anything to you?" Jimin says, his hands slightly shaking as he waits for an answer.

"No! Joon would never," you say. "We just talked. You don't have to worry, Jimin."

"He looked angry when I left..."

"He was..." you sigh. "Listen, Jimin... this is going to sound bad, but um... Joon... He, well, he doesn't want you coming over anymore."

"What?!" Jimin blurts out. "At all?"

"It's okay! It's okay!" you say, though you sound far from it. "I can always come over to your house!" You sigh deeply. "It's just that I don't think Joon's very comfortable around you."

No, he's just not comfortable when I'm around you.

"This is ridiculous," Jimin mutters.

"Sorry, Jimin, what did you say?" you ask. "I didn't hear."

Jimin closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He tries to stay calm, tries to keep from bursting out and yelling, but he can't help himself. It had to be said. "It's fucking ridiculous!" he shouts suddenly, standing up and starting to pace back and forth in his room with a crazed look on his face. "He's being fucking ridiculous!" he yells.

"Him? You mean Joon?" you say.

"Yeah!" Jimin throws up his hand in frustration. "He's acting like he fucking owns you!" Jimin snaps.

God. He's done it now. There's no going back.

"He's not, though!" you protest. "Don't get mad, Jimin. He's only voicing his rightful opinion. There's nothing wrong with that."

"He's trying to separate us!" Jimin yells. "Don't you get it?"

"No!" you say, starting to raise your voice. "Joon wouldn't do that!"

"Like he wouldn't fucking convince you to throw away Gilbert? Like he wouldn't convince you to clean out your closet and replace it with clothes that he finds sensible? Like he wouldn't fucking convince you to keep your distance from me?? He wouldn't fucking do any of these, huh?" Jimin shouts, his voice interlaced with anger and sorrow. His throat feels raw in his neck, but he continues on with the thoughts he's held in for months. "You're blind, Y/N! He's ruining your fucking life can't you see? Where's the Y/N who used to talk to me for hours before going to sleep in our secret language? When's the last time you've spoken that, huh? And when's the last time you pretended to control the weather with your emotions? Where's the real Y/N? What happened to her?"

"Joon doesn't like her!" you yell at the top of your lungs. Your voice rings in Jimin's ear.

"Why do you want Joon to like you? What are you trying to prove to him?" Jimin cries, his voice quivering.

"I'm following my path to love!" you shout. "It's something you'd never understand. You don't even know what that is! I've never, ever seen you pine for anyone in the fucking twenty years I've known you! You can't be talking about love if you've never fucking felt it!"

Jimin collapses on his bed, his head numb and hands cold.

You take his silence as defeat. "I fucking thought so," you say. "Joon says you're too dependent on me. You need to go out and make another friend other than me. The world changes, Jimin. People come and go. Stop being just so—just so fucking stuck in the past. Goodbye."

You don't wait for a response, ending the call right away.

Jimin's phone slips from his ear, falling face down on his bed. He's frozen into shock. If only you knew why he had never chased after love for twenty fucking years. He didn't need to. Because his love was right in front of his face the whole time.

Aside from the occasional bickering as kids, you and Jimin had never fought. This is the first time both of you had exchanged nasty words with each other.

You had used to call Jimin a peaceful soul because of his extreme hate for confrontations, unnecessary drama and fighting. Not once in his life had Jimin ever said something that he knew could damage something significant to him. Not once in his life had Jimin ever initiated an argument. Not once in his life had Jimin ever really argued, in fact. It had always been you yelling and Jimin nodding if anything.

But when things had stacked up, Jimin couldn't take it anymore. He'd cracked. He'd yelled. And he'd finally fought with his words.

Yet the fight doesn't symbolize anything except a double loss for Jimin because you had ultimately chosen Namjoon over him. Then, you'd proceeded to completely crush his heart by failing to recognize his love for you.

Jimin never had to worry about heartbreak. He and you had always been best friends, nothing more. No matter how much he loved you, he never acted upon it, which meant you never rejected him. So, yeah, no heartbreak.

But this... that fight... When you'd accused him of not knowing love... when he had loved you for years. That was heartbreak. And it is still heartbreak.

Jimin found it extremely hard to get out of bed every morning after the fight. Sometimes, throughout the day, when something even the slightest bit amusing happens, he whips out his phone to inform you of it. Then, he realizes he and you are not quite on speaking terms at the moment. Jimin also realizes if he can't text you, he has no one else to text.

Maybe you were right. Jimin needs more friends.

It's almost been a week since the fight on the phone; it has also been almost a week of constant rain. It pours down hard and steady, only slowing down for light drizzles in the afternoons. It's the only reassurance that Jimin can get. That you're just as sad as him. That some part of you misses him as much as he misses you.

The weather forecast said the rain was supposed to clear by tonight. But Jimin waits by his window, where the thunder clouds boom over the roof of his lonely house and the rain pounds against the concrete. It's a storm.

He worries about you.

Maybe he should text you? Call you? What if you're all alone in your room, crying profusely and that bastard of a boyfriend, Namjoon's giving you the silent treatment? It's like Jimin can feel your pain through the weather.

A lightning bolt flashes through the sky and four seconds later, Jimin hears the booming thunderclap. It wasn't supposed to rain today. You must be crying all alone. You must be missing your granny. You must be missing him.

Another sharp thunderbolt pierces through the dark rain clouds in the sky and the thunderclap rings louder than the last. That's it. Jimin picks up his phone.

It's sad that you're still the only person in his favorites contact 'list.' He taps on your icon and presses the phone against his ear, looking out the window as if you were out in the rain all by yourself. The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Usually, by then, you pick up the phone. But it occurs to Jimin now, that this is not going to be a usual conversation. His phone is heavy in his hands and he rests his cheek against the cold window, wondering if you're ever going to pick up.

Maybe you're crying so hard that you can't hear your phone ring.

Jimin lets out a shaky sigh, just about to disconnect the call to avoid hearing the all-too painful dial tone when you finally pick up.

"J-Jimin?" you breathe, groaning. "God, Jimin."

"Y/N?" Jimin exclaims. "Thank god, Y/N!" he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Mmm," you groan again.

"That's right, princess. You're mine all right?" a hushed, masculine voice whispers.

"Joon," you whine, urgently. "Please..."

Jimin can hear the soft slapping of skin in the background, Namjoon's heavy grunts and your whimpering. Immediately, the hairs on the back of Jimin's neck stand up straight. It's then when he realizes that you're moaning from pleasure. That Kim Namjoon's fucking you right now. And that you had still decided to pick up Jimin's call.

Tears blur Jimin's sight as he fumbles to end the call, chucking his phone halfway across the room afterward. He crumbles up in a ball, digging his face into his arms and sobbing.

Did you disrespect him that much? To pick up the call so he could hear you having sex?

It's the first time Jimin's ever questioned why he's in love with you.

Maybe, in the beginning, he had good reasons, but that had been because you had good intentions. You had been boisterous, unafraid to go against the current, wild, rebellious and had this my-way-or-the-high-way kind of character. That's the person Jimin had fallen in love with. The girl who carried around a green marker in her pockets to correct others' grammatical errors. The girl who invented a secret language when she was young just because she felt like it one day. The girl who convinced herself and others that she could control the weather with her emotions. The girl who didn't give two shits about what anyone thought of her. The girl who wore whatever the fuck she wanted because she could. The girl who never showed him when she was sad because she wanted to be strong, resilient. That's the person Jimin had fallen in love with.

But who the fuck are you?

Jimin had used to think it was Namjoon's fault you were so different. But you'd let him change you. You'd become docile, tedious, plain. All the things Jimin was and is. It's your fault. You could've stopped everything if you wanted. You could've broken up with Namjoon. But you didn't. Because you wanted to change.

Jimin can't love the new you. He doesn't even know if he can see you again.

His body shakes hard with fear and rage.

He's definitely not going to see you again.

He was never your prince; you'd ultimately chosen Namjoon. And you were never his princess; he had been delusional to think so.

He's going to walk out of your life. He needs to leave. For himself.

Jimin had already spent a week without your company and that had been enough. Now he wants to cut off all contact with you. He's already blocked your number, switched apartments and stashed away everything that reminded him of you—which was fairly a lot of things. He was so determined to be independent, to forget what it felt like to be dependent on you.

But without your presence, his bland life was even blander than before.

Waking up every day and not walking you to work felt foreign to him. Friday nights felt lonely without you. Weekends were dull. Weekdays were even worse.

He missed having to hear your bright, cheery voice. He missed talking about the craziest things with you. He missed waking up in the morning and wondering what you would be wearing today. He missed Gilbert. He missed your granny, too. Most of all, he missed you.

But you'd hurt him. Whittled away his heart little by little over the many years just by never loving him back. You'd humiliated him by choosing the man you knew for four months over the man you'd been best friends with for two decades.

Jimin figures he'll miss you for a long time. You'd been a large part of his life, after all. He'd already broken off contact with you, and that was already a giant leap. The next step would be to stop thinking about you, and the step after that to stop missing you. And when that's all over, he can stop loving you.

Looking back, Jimin realizes he struggled to get his life back on track for nearly eleven, long months. He'd seen winter come, spring pass and summer leave. But just as winter was making its presence on the weather again, frosting the leaves of plants and chilling the morning air, he'd finally come to his senses.

The past eleven months had been mournful. But as the days passed, he'd allowed himself to think about his current life more than his past. It had occurred to him that now, he was living a life of no-nonsense. Of no silly, childish imaginations. He was living in reality. Where he should've been in for all of his life.

Sure, he spent his birthday alone and without you for the first time since he was five years old. But it was something he could get used to. Celebrating the day he turned one year older just didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

Maturity suits Park Jimin well.

He'd always preferred things that were tangible, anyway. Things that could be proven. Things that made sense. It was time to say goodbye to the foolish things of his past: secret languages, weather-controlling, naming markers...

It took him eleven months, no, 25 years, but Jimin finally became an adult.  

He's 27, now.

He likes to drink black coffee in the morning like his co-workers. He likes vanilla ice cream the best just because it's the most simple. He likes to tell women that he's a civil engineer to impress them on first dates. He has an adequate number of friends. He goes to work five days a week, eight hours per day. He drinks on Friday nights, watches the news and goes to bed early. On the weekends, he spends his mornings reading articles in the science section of the paper and he hangs around bars at night with his friends.

It's a humble, normal, plain life. But Jimin likes it. It suits him.

He has thoughts about you from time to time; he would never forget what it felt like to love you. But he never again gets the urge to call you. You're a figment of his past, and Jimin's moved on.

The early spring breeze caresses Jimin's cheek as he walks steadily, staring at Google Maps on his phone and glancing up every once in a while so he doesn't run into a pole like last time. He was supposed to have a Sunday brunch with Jeon Jungkook but that silly bastard had canceled last minute on him to take his own girlfriend out on a date. Typical. But Jimin actually appreciates the alone time.

Jungkook had promised to take Jimin to a great cafe that was walking distance from Jimin's place. Since Jimin had nothing better to do, he decided to have his brunch there alone.

"You've arrived at your destination," the monotone voice named Karen drolls.

When Jimin looks up, he sees a small cafe sitting at the corner of the block, surrounded by towering trees shading the area and lots and lots of verdant green bushes. Something about the place seems homely. Familiar, even.

Deja vu, maybe? Jimin thinks.

He doesn't think much more and walks in. The inside of the cafe is decorated mainly with wood, green yarn and healthy vines twisting around the furniture. Jimin's hit by a cordial, oaky smell that instantly calms his nerves and clears his mind. The place is completely empty, too. His footsteps pad against the wooden floor as he admires the little cafe. The ordering counter stands in the corner, fairy lights and green paper lanterns dangling from it to illuminate its surroundings. Jimin walks towards the lights as if he were in a trance.

Something about this place seems so damn familiar.

Jimin hasn't felt this connected with nature, with this much creative liberty since—

"Jimin."

He whirls around, eyes widening and mouth dropping open when he recognizes the owner of that voice. Sure enough, he sees you, wiping your hands on a bright green waist apron. You're wearing a white pirate blouse that could've passed for a Halloween costume and a skirt with layers and layers of different shades of green fabrics—it looks like you'd made it yourself.

"Y/N," your name leaves his lips in a breathless whisper.

"Hey," you smile, waving awkwardly. "It's been a while, huh?"

A while? Two whole fucking years, in actuality. "Yeah, I guess," Jimin nods. He glances at the door, contemplating just leaving, but some instinct inside of him urges him to stay. "You work at this place?" he asks as he walks up to the counter where you're getting ready to take his order.

"Yeah," you giggle. God, Jimin had missed that smile of yours, but of course, he doesn't want to admit it. "Well, I own this place."

"Really?" Jimin asks. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks!" you say. "I decorated it myself. What can I get for you? Do you want me to recommend our best dishes? Look, we have a separate menu just for brunches!" you say excitedly, showing Jimin a neatly laminated menu laced with green yarn. "I recommend the Gilbert Special. Eggs, toast, bacon and hash browns. But, the Jimin Special is our house favorite!"

"The what?"

"100% off for the person it was inspired by," you smile. "That's you, by the way."

"W-Wow, Y/N, I'm—"

"No! You have to take the offer!" you say. "You can't even say you won't like it because it's literally all your favorite breakfast foods combined!"

Jimin smiles, shaking his head. "It's really the house favorite?"

"You bet it is," you laugh.

"Then I guess I'll have a Jimin Special," Jimin says. "Any chance it comes with a glazed donut?"

You shoot him a knowing look, a grin spreading across your lips. "It wouldn't be a Jimin Special without one."

Jimin ends up having brunch with you.

The icy, awkward barriers in the beginning slowly melt away into the friendship Jimin had known for more than half of his life. He dines on the best breakfast he could have ever asked for while getting to talk to you again after nearly two years. He can't imagine a better way to spend his Sunday.

Small talk with you is fun because you spice everything up with loud gasps, wide eyes and extroverted reactions that make even the dullest stories exhilarating. But it's suffocating to speak of such shallow things with a person he'd been best friends with for twenty years. Jimin's dying to know how you've really been, not what you found hilariously funny last week.

"So," he asks, "how are things with Namjoon?"

You snort, shaking your head. "God, that was fucking ages ago," you say. "We broke up a while back."

"Sorry," Jimin says. But he's not really.

"You're not that sorry, aren't you?" you laugh as Jimin's face morphs in shock when you call him out. "It's okay. I know how you feel about him. And I agree with you now. That idiot had the audacity to tell me to grow up. And he called you a good-for-nothing-awkward-ass-wimpy-child." You roll your eyes. "I knew it had to end when he said that. Besides, there's a certain highly endearing thing about innocence, don't you think? We should all be a little more childish."

"Wow," Jimin breathes.

"Wow, indeed," you smile wistfully. "That bastard could've said anything he wanted to me, but he shouldn't have dared to bring you up like that. I can't fucking believe I thought he was going to be my prince! I was so scared I'd lose him so I did everything he said, you know? God, in retrospect, I was just a really, really, oblivious and desperate idiot."

"You were just in love, Y/N," Jimin says. "Love makes you blind."

Your face twists for just a split second before you smile, shaking your head and sighing. "Jimin, I feel like I have to get this out before we become life-long best friends for fucking ever again."

"Hm?"

"I never apologized for what I told you like, two years ago," you say. "That fight we had on the phone? I told you that you didn't know love. And god, I've regretted saying that for every day, every hour, every fucking minute and second of my life. It was wrong." You shake your head, looking extremely disappointed in yourself. "At least what you told me was right. God, I was so angry, so terrified of losing my first love that I spit out words without thinking. How could I say you didn't know love, Jimin?" you say. "Of course you did—of course you do. You wouldn't have stuck by my side for years if you didn't. And Jimin, fuck. I love you too. I never said it enough. But I'm saying it now. I love you and I missed you. And I'm sorry I picked up the phone when I was having sex."

Jimin laughs. Around two years ago, that day had definitely not been a laughing matter. But only time can tell if the most depressing matters can morph into rather laughable memories. "I love you too, Y/N," he says. "And you shouldn't be sorry. I think we're all past that now."

"C'mon, I wanna show you how I redecorated my granny's home!" you say, bolting up and taking Jimin's cleared plates in your hands. "Meet me at the front of the cafe in two minutes!" you holler as you dash to the kitchen.

Jimin can't get rid of the smile on his face. He adjusts his jacket and stands up, taking another look around the cafe before he exits with a light skip to his step. He'll have to buy Jungkook dinner sometime for recommending this cafe to him. What was the name of this place, anyway?

Jimin steps back and squints at the big, capital letters placed on a banner in front of the cafe. He can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

"Nothing a Lil Green Can't Fix!" you exclaim as you come bounding down the steps of the cafe to stand next to Jimin. "Isn't that true? Green fixes like, everything."

"Lil's not a word, Y/N. I thought you knew better," Jimin jokes.

"Oh, spare me," you say, placing a dramatic hand on your forehead. "It had to be done. The stupid company had a character limit for the logo. It was either Nothing a Lil Green Can't Fix or Nothing Green Can't Fix," you huff. "And the latter is completely disgusting."

"I agree," Jimin snorts. "Then, in that case, I believe you made the right decision."

You smile. "I sure did. So, shall we go now?"

"Definitely."

Your granny's apartment looks exactly the same on the outside, but on the inside is an abundance of green. From plants to paintings to posters to silverware, everything is green.

"Nothing a lil green can't fix, indeed," Jimin breathes as you drag him around the whole place.

"Right?" you giggle. "Look! I even made a separate cabinet with all the birthday presents I've ever received from you!!"

The tour nearly takes five hours because the two of you get distracted every other minute, indulging yourselves in past childhood memories. And when Jimin's been tired out, the two of you lay side by side on your dark green sheets, silent but comfortable.

"Hey, Jimin?" you whisper, breaking the silence momentarily.

"Hm?"

"Remember our senior year in high school?"

"Of course I do," Jimin says. That year was the hardest (arguably) in your life. It was the year where you learned of the fatalities of death. It was the year you had lost your granny.

"We had the conversation about our true fears that year," you say with so much nostalgia in your voice that when Jimin closes his eyes, he can see the events of that day unfold before him. "Turns out, I didn't have just one fear. I had two. One was losing Granny. The other was losing you. And you know? For two years, I thought I lost you both. It hurt to think that my best friend hated me so much he had to dissociate himself from my life."

"I didn't hate you," Jimin says, opening his eyes as he turns to his side to look at you. "I swear. I just figured it was a good time for me to self-improve. You know, become independent for once. And maybe I didn't like who you had become, but I never hated you."

"Really?" you say, turning to face your best friend. "I was so scared that you'd shit talk me if I ran after you when you left that I didn't do anything. I thought it would've been better if I let you go. But I mean, I think the time apart was needed. We've self-improved."

"Yeah," Jimin agrees.

"So..." you say, a silly grin appearing on your face, "are we reunited now? Best fucking friends forever?"

"Of course we are," Jimin says.

"Okay, good," you say. "And before you say anything else, I have to ask you something, Jimin."

"What is it, Y/N?" Jimin asks, sitting up as you start to rummage in the pockets of your skirt.

"I just—" you're unable to finish your sentence, smiling. "Will you color me green, please?" you politely ask as you hold out a green marker in your hands.

"Oh my god," Jimin breathes. "Is that—"

"I pulled him out of the trash, Jimin," you say, eyes watering with emotion. "As soon as you left that night, I pulled him out. And then I kept him with me for years. I even recently got the ink replaced so it works fine, now." You let your tears fall down your face and you blink rapidly to see your best friend's softened face. "Did you really think for a second that I'd throw him away?" you ask in your secret language.

Jimin almost sobs right then and there. He'd never thought he'd hear that language again, and even after two years, he's able to understand you fluently. He hopes he doesn't sound too awkward when he replies, "I mean, you did have him in the trash can," he laughs, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. "You really want me to color you green again?"

"It's the bestest color in the world. What did you expect?"

Jimin's never been happier in his life. Tears streak your cheeks but you are unbothered by them, holding out Gilbert for Jimin to take. He takes note that you do not try to hide your tears anymore. In a way, you've become more beautifully confident. He realizes that you want to take him back to the start—the very beginning of when your friendship had commenced. With those simple words, "Will you color me green?" you've transported the two of you back to a place of innocence, of childishness, of thoughts of staying young forever, of avoiding maturity at all costs.

Outside, there's a slow drizzle of rain, indicating another spring shower. But above the soft gray rain clouds is a double rainbow. The colors are so vibrant, they wash away the monotonous hues of the clouds heavy with rain.

Romantic love makes people suffer. Jimin should know. He's been in love with you romantically for nearly two decades. He's felt feelings such as pain, experienced experiences such as heartbreak and dealt with the understanding of the wretched concept of unrequited love. But now? Two years later?

He realizes that you may never love him the way he had loved you. But that's okay. Because maturity is when you accept the way things are. Being childish is refusing to let go, which is what Jimin is too—he refuses to let go of you. But that goes the same for you, for you refuse to let go of Jimin.

You still love him. And for once in his whole fucking life, Jimin loves you in the same exact way that you love him.

a/n: find my behind the scenes thoughts and original endings here!

masterlist

[protectserve]

velouria here, finally writing the bio of everyone’s (or nobody’s) favorite police captain! he’s been in charming for twelve years, but only became captain two years ago. tries to run a clean station, focused on stopping the gangs of new york charming from hurting innocent people. an emotionally distant father that’s trying to rectify that with his daughter minnie coming back to town. very dour, but ultimately an okay guy. here’s his details, it’s LONG AS FUCK so if you read it all i will give you five gold stars!!:

content warnings: cancer, death, depression, brief mentions of alcoholism, classism

born in detroit, michigan on february 3rd, 1967. the third in a line of five boys, rick was a bit of a quiet, unassuming child. his childhood was relatively normal, he liked star trek and riding his bike, listened to new rock records with his older brothers, but he didn’t realize how poor his family was until he was in middle school—not that he was particularly unobservant, it was just everyone in his neighborhood was poor.

he hadn’t dreamt of being a cop like some kids did, his parents were vaguely anti-government, and with the attitudes towards cops in the seventies, rick never thought he’d become one. it wasn’t his plan, but after he graduated high school, he was working a series of dead end jobs. by 21, he was utterly aimless, and his other brothers hadn’t fared any better, some even turning to crime. he was looking for structure, a reason to get up in the morning, and some buddies from high school applying to the police academy was enough for rick to follow suit, much to his family’s dismay.

rick didn’t start out the same cop he is now. literally, because he’s a captain now, but his ideals have shifted greatly. at the start, even after the academy indoctrination rituals, it was only a job to him. it wasn’t great money, but he was a single man and really, for any kelleher child, any money was good money. he really didn’t take it seriously, or not as seriously as he was supposed to, but he figured it was just a job for awhile. he didn’t know it would become his life.

just because he wasn’t fanatical about it didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it, or that he hated being a cop. it was hard to have a family that belittled his profession and then beg him to save them whenever they got into trouble, and it was a dangerous job. no one wanted to be a beat cop in detroit, but rick started to gain a real appreciation for his city. a job that was supposed to be just a job became important to him. he wanted the people he saw on the streets every day to be safe, he wanted them to live in a nice place, a guy that needed meaning in life found it in the police force.

it wasn’t always so meaningful. sometimes, like most of his fellow officers, he debated quitting. he saw his friends in the department get shot, get stabbed, die in many different ways. he had to be cruel to be kind, and sometimes just cruel. it wasn’t exactly a fun job, but a brotherhood did grow between him and his fellow officers, and soon he wasn’t sure if he could be anything other than a cop.

his priorities shifted instantly the moment he saw zhilan ‘lilian’ wu, a student at wayne state university. she was with her friends at a chicken shack on a regular tuesday night in 1991 and rick had never seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. lilian didn’t think much of him when she first saw him, really. he was cute, but he was a cop and a bit of a dorky one at that. frankly, she was out of his league, but they kept running into each other while he was on patrol and when her apartment was broken into, she called 911 and hoped he would be the one to respond. lucky for the both of them, he was, and he didn’t leave until he gave her his personal phone number. (they never did catch the person that broke in.)

from that first date, they were inseparable. they fell madly in love, the sort of kind that happens only once, the kind that happens in movies or romance novels. for a guy that didn’t give much thought to starting a family one day, really he thought it would be a bad thing if he was to work such a dangerous job, all he wanted to do was marry lily. to his eternal surprise, she wanted to marry him, too. they were married the same year he was to be promoted to a detective, working on the vice squad.

just a short year after they were married, lily became pregnant. they were both excited but incredibly apprehensive. they were barely out of the honeymoon phase, she was away from her family, and he had just been promoted to detective. they fought a lot, his job was different but just as stressful, and rick wasn’t sure their marriage was going to last. as the months grew on and lily’s belly got bigger, they tried hard to work through their issues, but there was a lot of fear and a bit of resentment. when lily finally went into labor, rick was working a case and only had a matter of an hour to make it to the hospital before baby amelia came. when she did, it was like everything else fell away. every bit of resentment, anger, worry, it all went away like it never existed in the first place. they had been scared, but above all, rick and lily loved each other. deeply.

that doesn’t mean everything was peachy-keen. things were still incredibly stressful, a new baby that lily didn’t have a lot of help with, and rick trying to show his superiors that he was still incredibly devoted to his job while trying to be part of amelia’s rearing as much as humanly possible. by the time their daughter was five months old, lily was at her wit’s end. she wanted help, and while rick’s mother was around to babysit or grocery shop, it wasn’t the same as having her own mother there. lily didn’t set down an ultimatum so much as she begged to go back to boston where she was originally from, and like hell rick would let his wife and baby leave without him. with a bit of persistence, his request for transfer to boston went through, and the kellehers left for another wintry city.

the transition to boston was a little difficult for rick; getting used to a new department, new ground, he hadn’t spent a lot of time with his wife’s family before. lily had her own difficulties, but she took to it better, happy to be near her mother and in the town she grew up in. rick missed his little slice of detroit, but he’d rather be dead than away from lily and minnie (as they began to call her), so he chalked it up to needing a little time to get used to it. it got better once they moved out of his in-laws’ home into an apartment of their own.

assigned to the vice squad like he was back in detroit, it became apparent that it wasn’t a good fit anymore. long stakeouts were easier when he didn’t have a baby at home, and his wife hated it when he went undercover for long periods of time. he put in a request to transfer to the homicide division and while that proved its own set of challenges, it made his family happy that he wasn’t so in the line of fire anymore.

while minor things happened day to day, a partner getting shot, criminals getting off for various reasons, seeing dead bodies practically daily, rick can confidently say it was the happiest time of his life. he got to watch his little girl grow up, he was still so madly in love with lily, and he was even promoted to sergeant after passing his exam. five years later, he was promoted to lieutenant, and it was all just so wonderful before it all came crashing down.

2006, the kellehers move to charming. not that rick particularly wanted to, he was very happy in boston, but his hand was forced. transferred because things were getting notoriously bad in charming, an outlaw motorcycle club clashing with a rising new gang, the police department was basically begging for new blood to help them after several officers died or quit. with the promise of a pay raise and the chance to possibly move up to captain, something he’d never get in his boston precinct, rick tried to think of it as a new opportunity. if he could go back in time, he’d tell himself to never take the job, never even come to the west coast. 

charming would never be detroit in the eighties or boston in the nineties, but he was mistaken when he thought a small town police department would make his life easier. this wasn’t a place to ride out into retirement, save cats from trees and settle disputes between elderly neighbors. he didn’t go into it blind, he knew what plagued the town, he had worked cases staking out gang warehouses and testified against the irish mob once, but charming was like something else entirely. the motorcycle club was so intertwined with society that often the citizens trusted them over the police department, and the ones that didn’t hated the department for not forcing the club (or the gang) out for town once and for all. it was an adjustment just like any new transfer, and just like before, he had to shift his ideals.

things were not easy at the start of his tenure as lieutenant, some didn’t like some hotshot cop from boston coming in and trying to clean up the streets of charming, and navigating the tense relationship between the club, the gang, and the department had a steep learning curve. he didn’t always agree with the previous captain, but they had been working charming for a lot longer than he had. even so, if he was to ever run the pd, it would be run differently.

things were not easy at home, either. not that they were horrific, lily and rick had dealt with adapting to a new place before, but the dangers of charming seemed a lot closer to home than back in boston. he feared for his daughter’s safety, almost a teenager, though she was so excited to move to california at the start. his wife was getting weaker, chalking it up to age. his job was difficult, he missed big cities and cold weather and dunkin’ donuts for breakfast. he automatically felt protective over charming and its people, as it was his job, but he didn’t love it like he had detroit, and boston to a lesser degree. rick was noticeably unhappy, but he committed to charming, and even with her faults, she didn’t deserve to be overrun by criminals.

as rick settled into life as a charming cop, his wife was also noticeably unhappy. she missed boston, she missed her family, and she wasn’t feeling well for quite some time. they didn’t find out until it was too late that lily had ovarian cancer. by the time they knew about it, it was like she was already gone. chemo was an option, but it seemed to just be delaying the inevitable and lily refused it, despite how much rick had begged her to at least try it. after only four years living in charming and eight months after being diagnosed, lily kelleher went peacefully in the middle of the night, in bed at home with the two great loves of her life sleeping next to her.

to put it plainly, rick was a fucking mess. he tried to keep it together when lily was still alive and put on a brave face, quite frankly he was in utter denial, but the cracks were visibly showing and after the death of his wife, he went off the deep end. completely swallowed by his grief, he was given bereavement leave but either way, he couldn’t get out of bed. he couldn’t look at his daughter, she looked too much like lily, and the idea of his wife not being around to make dumplings on christmas with minnie or wake him up when he fell asleep watching a western on tv after dinner broke his heart completely. when it was finally time to come back to work, he was a completely different cop, the kind of cop that he hated, aggressive and cruel at no provocation, he began to drink heavily and sob randomly. his captain finally gave him a kick in the ass: either get some help or get off the force. 

taking another three weeks of leave, rick spent the first few days still swallowed by grief, but he knew he had to get help, this was no way to live. he started going to a therapist, tried to clean himself up and be there for his daughter. it wasn’t instantaneous and rick began to resent others, as if he should so easily get over the death of his wife, the only woman he’s ever loved, will ever love. he wasn’t better, just going through the motions, and eventually he was able to go back to work. he wasn’t the cop that he was before, and wasn’t the cop he was immediately after, but focusing on his job was the only thing that really got him through his grief and sorrow.

and minnie. he didn’t forget her, or love her any less. the decision he made was a hard one, one that’s hard to justify, but it felt like the only option. before lily died, he saw potential in charming. after, all he could see was its dark corners, as if that’s all there was. tensions were rising between the club and the gang and the department, rick didn’t see an end in sight to the violence, and it was hard to do his job when his mind was constantly drifting to his daughter, fearing for her safety, fearing for mind after losing her mother. four months after lily died, rick had a discussion with minnie, though it was more just telling her what was going to happen. minnie was going to move in with her maternal aunt back in boston, at least for a little while, until rick could get things back in order. 

unfortunately a little while ended up being ten years. he didn’t want her to stay away that long, often he missed her so much that he wanted to demand that her aunt send her back, but he knew it was better in the long run. rick could focus on his job and minnie could finish out high school in a much more stable household, near her mother’s family to take care of her and keep her connected to her chinese side. with her safe, far away from charming and well taken care of, rick could dig deep into his work. when he was working a case, he didn’t have to think about how quiet his house now was, or that he was missing minnie’s later teenage years. when his whole life was protecting charming, he was protecting himself. it wasn’t as if he never saw minnie again, he flew out frequently and attended her graduations, but the short term plan for her to live with her aunt quietly turned into a lot longer, and rick got used to his empty house.

his dedication to his work wasn’t all for naught. in 2018, the previous captain retired and rick was promoted in high esteem. since taking command of the station, rick is trying to change things as best as he can, as much as the station and the club/gang will allow. rick is harsh on organized crime, doesn’t believe in fostering a relationship with either syndicate, and will fire anyone he finds out is in their pockets. he wants them out of charming—he doesn’t care if they exist, he just wants them out of his town. and it is his town.

he’s not all tough, though. captain kelleher cares deeply for his officers, his door is always open if they need to talk (or want to transfer), and he’s a warm presence for those on the force. (#cop dad.) it could be said that because he sent his daughter away, he views those under him on the force as his surrogate children, somewhere to put all his paternal affection, but it’s also possible that he’s just a good man at heart. though he hates the crimes that the gang and club commit, he doesn’t want them individually hurt; in fact, he wants them to be better, he wants them to give up the life and go clean. or at the very least, fuck off.

as of a few months ago, his daughter minnie has returned to charming, moving in with rick. though he was apprehensive at first, things in charming actually worse than when she left, and the fact that he hadn’t lived with her in a decade, he’s so happy to have her back, happiest he’s been in a long time. he has gotten quite used to being alone, though, so it’s been a bit of an adjustment to have her back. he really cherishes the time he gets with her but has a hard way of showing it, just like he does with practically anyone; it’s harder with his daughter, though. so much time has passed, so many regrets, he has to get to know his daughter all over again, this time as an adult.

he wasn’t totally alone before she returned, actually. two years before becoming captain, he adopted a black and tan coonhound after her original owners died, the station taking care of the case. with petula (as she was named before he got her) having nowhere to go and hating the idea of her going off to some shelter, rick took her home. there was also the fact that some of his detectives remarked that he was far too lonely and should get a dog lol. sometimes he brings tula to the station so she can hang around in his office, but mostly she just sleeps. she’s a sleepy girl in general, but has a loud ass bark. 

hasn’t dated much since lily died. no one will come close to her, obviously, and he’s just a tough nut to crack in general. has a hard time opening up emotionally to anyone, even before lily’s death (it was a frequent problem in their marriage). does have some friends, but they’re also emotionally distant dads in their 50s. they go on an annual fishing trip to just drink some beers and watch airplane disaster reenactment shows and talk about tom clancy novels or whatever it is that dads do.

his job as captain is more administrative than any position he’s had before. he deals with the mayor’s office and the district attorney’s office frequently, so he’s not out on the street visiting crime scenes often unless it’s a huge crime that warrants it, or something officer involved.

secretly smokes despite telling everyone he doesn’t. wears the latest in dad fashion, Dadshion�� if you will. doesn’t smile very often but that doesn’t mean he’s not happy or that he’s mad, he’s just got resting bitch face. tho he is often mad. catch him walking his dog or irritating his daughter!!

wanted stuffs:

if ur character is part of the police department, let me know bc ur character now has a dad. unless you’re a dirty cop, then he’s a very disappointed dad. we’ll plot it all out individually, they can hate or love rick, they used to get along but something happened that soured the relationship, they don’t respect his authority, they think the department should work with the club/gang, whatever!

the constant criminal: if ur muse is constantly in and out of the holding cells at the station, they’ll often see rick. basically at this point when your muse is arrested, he’s rolling his eyes like “kid, we’ve talked about this. if you like here so much, just apply for a job as a file clerk or something.” they’ve got the antagonistic but borderline friendly, familiar relationship that ya see on all the cop shows.

the informant: so i guess this would be a whole thang, your muse informing on either the club or the gang, but someone’s gotta let the pd know what’s going on!! maybe your muse is in the club/gang but has become disillusioned over time, maybe they’re just close to someone in either, idk there’s plenty of reasons! of course their meetings will be in secret, but they’re on file as a CI. 

enemies: i mean, he’s the police captain in a town full of criminals. pretty much everyone is an enemy until proven otherwise lol, but y’know your character hates cops and rick doesn’t really care about their opinion. we can discuss the details or maybe they hate cops in general.

friends: rick isn’t like, a totally miserable person. of course his friends would be more around his age and i’m pretty sure rick is currently the only person over 50 lol, but he’s gotta have a pal in someone on the dash!

someone he used to date: as mentioned above, rick isn’t good at dating and has only had like one or two relationships since his wife died, so obviously this relationship didn’t last very long. again, he’s in his 50s and i don’t think there are any female characters over 45, so this one’s a long shot but if you ever wanna bring an older lady and have her date rick in the past, i beg you to do so!! or just more older characters in general!!

someone that remembers minnie from ten years ago and is like “damn dude, that was rude af to send her away the same year her mom died” and he’ll be like suddenly i can’t read.

obviously this post is long as fuck so i don’t need to add to it anymore, but i’ve got tons more ideas! message me here or ask for my discord!

[thecodethreechronicals]

And that’s on not being a selfish asshole.

To those who believe we should continue to keep the world shut down I would like to bring your attention to this story. This is a real call I ran. This was a real child abuse case where the parent was to be prosecuted for felony child abuse, neglect and Involuntary man slaughter secondary to neglect. Just to name a FEW charges. It seems that the only way to get people to listen these days is to shock and scare the living hell out of them. The media has been doing it for months with corona virus reports and incorrect death numbers and now I will do the same with this story. Maybe if everyone stopped caring about ONLY themselves for five minutes this world would actually be a better place. With that being said - ‼️Trigger warning‼️ child abuse/neglect/sex trafficking/drug use. All identifying information has been withheld to protect the parties involved. Around a year ago I ran a 911 call for a two year old who was dehydrated. That’s the only information I had enroute. We got on scene and there were about 10 police cars parked down a neighborhood street. In that moment I knew exactly why we were there. A DFS worker was there and explained they had received an anonymous tip regarding the living conditions of 3 juveniles. A mom had been squatting in a condemned house with the roof partially collapsed, no power, plumbing, A/C (it was 100+ degrees out that day) minimal furniture, and a single mattress on the floor covered in urine and feces. There was also no food and the middle child (10 yrs old) told us they had hadn’t eaten in days and had been caring for the younger sibling with special needs for nearly 3 days alone. The two year old had a GJ feeding tube that was severely infected and coming out. Someone had taped around the whole belly with duct tape to prevent it from coming out causing chemical burns to the skin. The two year old had significant medical history and visible disabilities and was unable to eat by mouth. There was no formula that was supposed to be given and instead the 10 year old said the mom had been chewing food, spitting into a cup, mixing with soda and forcing it through the GJ-tube, which explained the severe infection. In the days following speaking to various caseworkers it came out that the older teenager was being sold for sex by the mother in exchange for drugs, which she was also giving to the teenager to cause an addiction and therefore be dependent on her, which is sadly a common practice amongst sex offenders. A few months after I was contacted by another DFS worker to let me know the case would be heard by the DA and criminal court instead of family court due to the death of the two year old several weeks later as a result of malnutrition, neglect, septic infection, etc. A few weeks ago we had a pre trial hearing-social distancing style. I was asked to provide a written statement on the conditions in which the children were found and and my professional opinion on how the children presented medically at the time of EMS arrival. Since then I was told the actual court proceedings had been rescheduled several times until last week when I was told the trial had been postponed indefinitely. The mother was released months prior on bail and custody was granted back to the mother. The reason? Foster parents are refusing to take children due to the concern of corona virus. DFS has been directed to move as many kids as possible out of child haven and work with the biological parents on safe parenting plans in the home, which is not their common practice just so these kids don’t have to be in homes or child care facilities with large groups. Things are falling through the cracks and the safety of one of the most vulnerable populations is being compromised for fear of a virus that as of TODAY has killed 253,000 people worldwide which is 0.014% of the yearly worldwide deaths of heart disease. Or cancer which kills 10 million worldwide, yearly for a total percentage of 0.0253% Child abuse cases are up 40% Suicides are also on the rise but it’s unknown the exact amount at this time since it usually takes over a year to obtain those statistics. People with felonies like rape, child abuse, domestic abuse are being released from jail daily and trials postponed over the fear of a virus that kills less people annually than diseases that we live with on a daily basis and no one bats a single eye. When this started I was all for social distancing and flattening the curve. We’ve accomplished this. The second wave everyone is talking about is all of this. Abuse, neglect, domestic violence, and suicides. People can’t leave their homes. They can’t utilize the gym to combat anger, anxiety or depression. Adults are stressed and depressed over looming financial obligations from being laid off. Kids don’t have the outlet to escape to school or hanging out with friends. Education is falling by the wayside as many low income families don’t have the resources to provide their kids with “distance learning” and many just in general don’t care about their kids education anyway. Higher education institutions like nursing schools are not allowed to participate in clinicals to gain experience. Practical skills and Invasive procedures are being taught online instead of hands on. So when you say the world should stay closed who is this really about? Is it actually about protecting others or is it about yourself and the fears you have? Because I’ll tell you right now the disservice we are doing to our vulnerable populations right now has a much larger socio-economic impact on the world than this virus EVER will.

[holylulusworld]

The Italian touch – Part 2

Could you write a dean x reader virgin series? She's not so skinny, have curves and take place in leviathan period? She's in her twenties and bobby kinda adopted her she's not American but Italian and alone in the world? Please

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Bobby, Edgar the Leviathan

Future Warnings: language, angst, injured Dean, blood, injured Sam, characters death?, violence

The Italian Touch Masterlist

A few weeks later…

“Can I help you?” You ask Dean.

“No, uh…I was just looking for something in my trunk.” The hunter stammers and you know he’s lying.

Since Castiel ‘died’ once again you see Dean looking at the trench-coat in his trunk almost daily.

“Bobby is away, said something about an emergency. Jody Mills called him from the Sioux Falls Hospital. He will be back soon.”

“Sioux Falls Hospital?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. Jody saw something. Can’t tell you what, but she knows about the supernatural and she called dad so I guess it was a monster.”

“We got a case. Might be Leviathans. Swim team mangled to death, Stockville Highschool.” Dean explains.

“Shit. You think those things…Leviathan’s Castiel had inside his body are behind those murders?” You ask.

“I’m afraid so,” Sam answers your question.

“Then let’s roll. I’ll text dad that I go with you for a case. I guess he doesn’t need back-up or he would’ve called me.” You say and Dean grins like insane.

“Sure. You can ride shotgun. Right, Sammy?”

“Yeah, okay. But remember what I said to you.” Sam warns again.

“I got it, Bitch!”

“Jerk!”

“Alright, I’ll get my stuff and then we can check the case out.”

Running into the house you grab your duffle bags, hunters diary, and your favorite jacket. Taking the book you read to find something helpful about Leviathan’s too you check your appearance in the mirror.

-----

“Remember she’s Bobby’s daughter! No touching, flirting or even worse!” Sam states.

“Yes, daddy!” Dean mutters watching you coming out of Bobby’s house. Taking your stuff out of your hands Sam puts it into Baby’s trunk.

Dean is busy opening the door to the passenger’s seat for you like a gentleman. Giggling you kiss his cheek.

Flushing red Dean clears his throat when he sees Sam’s disapproving look. Mouthing a ‘bitch’ Dean opens the door to the driver’s seat.

“That car is so awesome! She really is a sight!” You squeal.

“Yeah. She is,” Dean rasps eying you up and down.

“Dean!” Sam warns once again.

“Shut up Bitch! Let her enjoy my car!” Dean mutters starting the engine.

----

Looking around the Men’s locker room your eyes widen. Blood is splattered all over the walls.

“I’m Special Agent Anderson, these are my colleague's Special Agents Cole and Nugent,” Dean says to the forensics examining the blood-splattered wall.

“The cops are out for a coffee, but I can show you the layout,” The forensics says and Sam nods.

Having a closer look at the wall Dean curses. Black goo…

“Leviathans?” You whisper.

“I’m afraid so. Fuck, Cas.” Dean mutters.

“Hey, the forensics said two of the kids are missing,” Sam says.

“So those two are stuffed with Leviathan goo?” You whisper.

“Shit. We need to find those bastards.”

“And what do we do when we find them, Dean? We got no clue how to kill a Leviathan.” Sam whispers.

“We should check the cameras…traffic cam etc.” You suggest.

“Good idea, kiddo!” Dean says grinning.

----

“Shit, they drove back into town. What now?” You ask.

“We should drive back to your house and wait for Bobby to come back. Maybe he already has an idea how to kill those things,” Dean suggests.

“Okay. Dad should be home now. We can meet up with him and plan our next steps.”

Hearing your phone ring you see it’s Bobby. Did he read your mind?

“Hey, dad. Oh..yeah…Wait. Here, dad wants to talk to you,” You say handling Sam your phone.

“What is it, Bobby?”

“The sheriff was right. The hospital was definitely our kind of thing. Met the bastard in the morgue. Fuck, I double-barrelled it. Silver buckshot, no effect. Nothing. That disgusting thing bled black ooze.” Bobby explains.

“Shit. Not even silver? We want to meet up with you at your house. A whole swim team got murdered. Black goo on the walls.”

“Castiel really fucked up! Balls! I’m almost home. We can discuss anything later,” Bobby mutters.

“Okay, later,” Sam says hanging up the phone.

“Let me guess, Leviathan’s in the hospital?” Dean groans.

“Yeah. Bobby used silver bullets…no effect at all.”

“Let’s drive back to Bobby’s and form a plan.” Sam sighs.

-----

Seeing black smoke you panic. Jumping out of the Impala your run toward the burned down house. Bobby’s burned house, your home.

“Dad! Dad!” You scream panicked.

“Shit! Bobby? Bobby don’t you dare being dead!” Dean yells.

Walking through the remains of the house Dean looks around. No sign of a dead person.

“Any sign of him?” Sam asks while you stand next to Dean. Frozen to the spot you look at your destroyed home. Scared you might not just lost your home tonight.

“That place was torched. Son of a bitch! They knew what they were doing!” Dean curses.

“You think Bobby was back there?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know. I hope not. We should call him.”

Dialling Bobby’s number Dean ends up on mailbox. Walking around the junkyard cars Sam and Dean call for your dad. Tears are streaming down your face while you try to not break down.

“Bobby! Bobby you old geezer you better are not gone or I’ll kick your ass!” Dean yells.

Turning around the corner you see a stranger smirking at you and the Winchesters.

“Congrats, Winchesters! Apparently, you two are competent enough to warrant annihilating. I’ll take that as a compliment, boys.” Edgar says grinning.

Aiming his shotgun Dean fires two rounds in the side of Edgar's head. Black ooze is running down the Leviathan’s face. His face transforms and your blood freezes. Mouth enlarged, teeth long and jagged with a two-pronged tongue he snarls at the Winchesters.

One swift motion and he knocks the shotgun out of Dean’s hands. Grabbing Dean he throws him against a car and the older Winchesters groans in pain. Trying to punch Edgar Sam yells at Dean.

“Now!”

Lying on the ground with a broken leg Dean operates the controls for the hoist holding a car suspended in the air.

Distracted Sam doesn’t see the bar in Edgar's hands before it’s too late. Smashing Sam in the head the Leviathan makes him stumble and falling backward right before the car drops onto Edgar.

“Sam? Sammy?” Panicked you check on Sam. His pulse is strong and he’s breathing.

“Is Sam, okay?” Dean groans in pain.

“Unconscious but he’s breathing and his pulse is strong. What about you?”

“I think that bastard broke my leg. Fuck!” Dean grunts.

Rushing to Dean’s side you check on him. Helping him sitting upright you see the cracked bone piercing his skin.

“I’ll call an ambulance. Hold on,” you sob dialing 911.

----

Sitting in the ambulance you hold Sam’s hand. Dean is knocked out by painkillers.

“Don’t worry, everything will be alright. We are almost there. Five minutes and we arrive at Sioux Falls Hospital,” the paramedic says and you panic.

“No, no. Anywhere else but not … Please. Somewhere else!” You scream…

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22 , @curly-haired-disaster-deactivat, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom , @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18,   @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana15, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @anushay1998

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-thewinchesters, @love-my-not-natural-babies, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @mirandaaustin93, @hawaiianohana15, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @x2closebut2farx, @janicho88, @thefaithfulwriter, @dreaminemz

[psychovigilantewrites]

Red Who? Chapter 2- Like A Tarantino Film

Chapter 1 - Bath Salts 

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16683190/chapters/39151849

Notes: Here’s chapter 2! Trigger warning for gore and violence. 

There was still joy in Gotham.

It was seldom seen, but it was there. The faces that you passed by everyday were pale, sunken, eyes almost lifeless. Sometimes when you walked around the city, you felt like you were seeing in black and white.

The people of Gotham were tough. They had to be, so they raised their defenses and built walls around themselves. You wouldn’t see a stranger smile at you in passing.

But sometimes you see color.

During Valentine’s Day, a couple or two would be inside a nice, warm restaurant smiling at their significant other. Or during Christmas, where some families would eat out and laugh over dinner.

But the places where you see the most innocent and pure form of joy would be the playgrounds. The children would run around and laugh, not a care in the world. Untainted by the gloom of Gotham.

Your parents had robbed that innocence from you.

You couldn’t remember if you ever experienced a time where you were able to be carefree. You were always on guard with them, reading their moods to see if they would feed you dinner that night.

They pressured you to perform. You could read and write at only 2. At 4, you were already being tutored daily, which prevented you from playing around. You felt like your whole life wasn’t even yours.

But because of that, you had a knack for the academics.

The discipline your parents had instilled in you helped you become the top student at Gotham Academy- where you were at that very instant.

Sighing to yourself, you doodled in your notebook, bored of paying attention. Chances were that you already knew what the aging bald man in front was talking about.

School for you always were extremely draggy. You just went for attendance. Bruce offered to homeschool you, but you wanted a taste of what it was like to have a normal life. You didn’t have that when you were with your parents, and you couldn’t have that as Robin.

School was your escape.

You had some friends. Well, more acquaintances rather than friends. You had the tendency to keep people you didn’t trust just within arms length. You had learned from young not to trust anyone.

The only ones you trusted were your current family.

You didn’t even trust yourself.

That was the one thing you could never do.

Nevertheless, school allowed you to have a semblance of a normal life.

The bell rang shrill in your ears, marking the end of the school day. It was time for you to put on another mask, the one you show your peers.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. Like a mask you slip on, you were instantly the girl your parents would have wanted you to be. You waved at your classmates, disarming them with your charming smile.

You were similar to Bruce in that sense. The mask he wore fooled millions, and the only exceptions were the ones he chooses not to fool. You used to idolise him for that. You still do, amongst other things.

With perfect posture and pace in walking, you head to the swimming pool locker room and changed into a black one piece.

As captain of the swim team, you had to make sure your form was consistently accurate, and you would time yourself every day, making sure to never slow down.

After an hour and a half, you went back, and studied. Bruce would call you down in two hours for patrol.

That was your day. School, swim, study- sometimes at the library or a cafe, and then patrol. You would put training in with Bruce from time to time. The loop you were in made you have a little more control in your life. You hardly broke your schedule.

It was what your parents taught you.

Although now that you were exposed to crime and investigations, you realised that keeping a schedule was too predictable. It would be extremely easy for someone to stalk you and learn your day to day habits from the moment you stepped outside the Manor’s gates and then back in.

You’ve had stalkers before. From paparazzi to your admirers, you were quite popular since you inherited the Wayne name- an attempt to erase your link to your parents and their atrocities. It worked well. The kids in your school had already forgotten about your upbringing.

You weren’t really afraid of being stalked. You could take care of yourself.

Besides, you were at your last year of high school, why would you have an unpredictable schedule?

As you were writing your notes on rare genetic diseases- a topic that interested you greatly since your encounter with Killer Croc- you heard a soft knock on the door.

“Miss Wayne,” you heard Alfred’s muffled voice from behind the wooden door of your room, “Master Bruce will be getting ready for patrol soon, if you are interested in joining him tonight.”

“I’ll be down in a minute, Alfred,” you called back, “Thank you.”

Bruce gave you a choice long ago, and even then you were allowed to revisit that choice. You could join him in his war against crime, or you could live a normal life. The nights when you chose to join him greatly outnumbered the ones when you didn’t- usually when you were having exams or a big project.

He kept the training consistent, though. You had to be at your best performance at all times.

Your footsteps echoed as you descended into the cave behind the grandfather’s clock. Bruce was on the massive computer with a setup of buttons and knobs that spanned almost as long as a ping-pong table. He was already fully dressed in his Batsuit, save his cowl, which was resting on said table.

He gave you a mere nod of acknowledgement when you walked passed him to the locker rooms in the corner of the cave.

Putting on the tights was the most annoying part, something you had figured out when you first became Robin, 3 years ago- after two years of training with Bruce.

The best part about the uniform? Your body looked amazing in it. The tightness that was to help you with your mobility had accentuate your curves. The kevlar armored breastplate lifted your tits (and protected your vitals).

Even after many years, you couldn’t help but admire yourself in the mirror every time you wore it. You put up your hair so it wouldn’t get in the way, and for the finishing touch, smacked on some lip gloss.

The helmet you wore prevented the wind from stinging your eyes as you whizzed next to the Batmobile, the distant sound of your cape flapping about behind you gave you an idea of how wild your hair would have been if you took the helmet off.

“Robin,” you heard Batman’s voice from the inside of your helmet, “There’s been a 911 call coming from The Stacked Deck. Gunshots heard. Any ideas?”

“Stacked Deck? The one in Otisburg District?” you questioned. Batman usually quizzed you during times like this to train your investigative and deductive skills.

“Affirmative,” he confirmed.

“Must be a gang shootout then,” you guessed. The Stacked Deck was a nightclub where most of the underground kingpins did their affairs. Most clubs were usually gang owned, and the turf wars would come into play when another gang violates their turf boundaries.

But The Stacked Deck was known to be a safe haven for gangs, a place that did not fall under any territory. There was an unspoken truce between all the gangs in Gotham that the club would remain neutral grounds for business purposes or pleasure. A gang shootout in the club was possible, but unlikely.

“The club is owned by Charon Path,” Batman reminded you, “Who takes the club rules very seriously.”

Indeed, Charon Path was a rich and powerful businessman. He conducts only necessary businesses with gangs, but still separates himself from them. The last time the head of the Dimitrov family broke the club rules by shooting a Maroni member, Charon had his men hunt both gangs down and took each one of their daughters, and sent the respective families different parts of their bodies until lastly, their heads.

Since then, the club has been relatively peaceful.

“Maybe a newcomer gang?” you tried.

“You’re limiting yourself to gangs,” he lectured, “There are other types of criminals in this world that do not solely break the law for money.”

Bruce’s voice was clear in the state of the art helmet despite the fact that you were going 60 miles on a 35 limit.

“A terrorist attack?” you attempted again.

“Or just for fun,” he said darkly.

***

The metallic smell of blood was so strong, it even penetrated his helmet faintly.

“A-are you crazy?” the man grovelling on the floor stuttered. Covered in blood that wasn’t his own, he looked at Jason with evident fear in his eyes.

This one was one of Falcone’s. Wario? Luigi? One of those Nintendo clowns.

Jason merely grunted. His position was relaxed, leaning against the bar counter, which was littered with broken glass and spilled drinks. The sling of his AK-47 across his shoulder hung as a present threat.

That, and the 5-foot robotic dog he had the controls for on his side. A nice steal from the Dixon Docks the night before.

Where is he?

“This club is owned by Path!” he continued, “We’re all doomed.”

Still not saying a word, Jason reached inside the black duffel bag he placed on the bar, and brought out something heavy.

He tossed Charon Path’s head onto the floor. It had rolled to Falcone’s son, greeting his eyes with Path’s dead and cloudy ones.

“I-Impossible,” he gasped, “H-how?”

“What do you want with us?” another voice from across the near empty room yelled. Jason had let most of the clubgoers he wasn’t interested out already.

“You’ve already got what you came for, right?” he braved. He was bigger than the first man, and older. He was a Moehler, the German crime family famous for drug and weapons smuggling.

“And what is it that I came for Mr Moehler?” Jason finally spoke, his voice scrambled by the device in his helmet.

“The Ibenescus’,” Moehler’s eyes darted to the four bloodied bodies on the floor. Jason had the robot dog he named Jacob maul them to death. The stench of their ripped guts was making the 9 other men he had let live vomit. Like large slithering snakes, their intestines had spilled all over the dance floor, leaking a dark green fluid that mixed with the blood.

“But I didn’t come for the Ibenescus’, Mr Moehler,” Jason drawled, “I came for you. All of you. To tell you that The Stacked Deck is now under my territory, and all of you now belong to me.”

“Fuck you!” the first man cried.

“Mario!” hushed a third.

“Ah, Mario, that’s it,” Jason recalled his name, “I understand that you’re emotional right now, Mario, but please don’t interrupt daddy when he’s talking.”

“Now,” Jason continued, “I will allow all of you to leave this building safe and sound if you pledge yourself to me. Meaning, I get forty percent of profits from each of your operations- but I have ground rules. No dealing to kids, no human trafficking, and no animals involved. Except the ones like Jacob Black here,” he nodded to the robot dog next to him, “Any questions?”

“What if we refuse?” someone had voiced.

“Refuse and you end up like either Path or your Romanian friends right there,” he gestured to the four bodies, “The Ibanescus really really liked women, didn’t they? I advise you not to do the same. Any objections?”

The club remained quiet. Jason walked slowly over to tower over Mario Falcone.

He’s running late.

“And how about you, Smash Bro?” he sniggered, “Any objections?”

“N-no,” he bowed his head to the floor to avoid contact with the white eyes of the shiny red helmet.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Jason celebrated, “I will visit each of you for my share whenever I feel like it. Now leave.”

Any time now.

“Who are you?” Moehler asked in a quiet voice.

“Was wondering when you were gonna ask,” Jason turned to him, “I’m Red Hoo- Ah. I see you’re finally here. Was wondering when you would arrive.”

Jason had placed silent motion sensors throughout the club that would trigger an alarm in his helmet when activated.

As if on cue, Batman emerged from above and came flying down to attack him. Jason easily evaded his attempt to take him down and stood across the room.

Jason felt something boiling in him when he saw the caped crusader, followed by you behind him. It was his first time seeing you in the flesh. He felt a pang in his chest, a feeling that he had become all too familiar with.

But despite the storm inside him, he didn’t want to let any of it show.

“Red Who?” you snarkily said to him.

Fuck. Your voice made him want to rip your throat out.

“Red Hood, baby,” Jason raised his assault rifle in your direction. “So Batman, who’s the new toy?”

“Enough games,” Batman growled, “Put the gun down, and we’ll take you in quietly.”

“But B-man, I never go quietly,” Jason challenged, “You out of all people should know.”

Batman made a move to take Jason down, but all Jason had to do was whistle, and from his side, the robot dog tackled Batman to the ground. Jason made a point to change the controls from ‘Kill’ to ‘Distract’.

He gave Batman less than a minute to deal with the dog.

Now, he turned his attention to you, who was already in a flying kick position in the air towards him.

He grabbed your ankle and used your momentum to spin you into the glass tables behind him. You quickly got up despite the crash, and immediately tried to take him again.

Jason acknowledged your skills, but you were nowhere as good as he was. He grabbed you by the neck and flung you against the wall, where you slid down to the floor, hazy due to the impact.

At this point, he could hardly control the rage.

He grabbed you by the neck again and held you up against the wall, squeezing the breath out of you.

“Why you?” he growled, “What makes you so special, huh?”

Were you better than he was? Were you smarter? Did he love you more? Was Jason so incompetent? Did Bruce hate him that much?

You gasped and choke for air, clawing at his arm, kicking at his shins weakly.

“Does he use you? Is that it?” Jason didn’t know why he conjured that thought in his head. He knew Bruce would never. Yet, he was still disgusted.

Up close, he noticed how young you actually were. How smooth your skin was, how silky your hair. Your mouth, opening and closing silently like a fish out of water- were you wearing fucking lipgloss?

And his Robin suit you had defiled and mutilated to suit yourself- it made your tits look so good. He forced the idea out of his head. You were wearing his colours.

But the colour you were slowly turning into was purple, and Jason decided to loosen his grip around your neck.

He hated you. So much. He wanted to make you suffer for replacing him. He wanted to make Bruce suffer over you.

But at the same time he wanted you.

“Robin!” he heard Batman’s voice from behind him, but the dog was still occupying him.

“It’s time for me to go. You’ll definitely see me again, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, and let you go before escaping through the kitchens.

***

“Robin,” you heard Batman’s voice in the distant. Your head was spinning. You were still gasping for breath.

You raised a shaky arm and pointed at the direction where Red Hood ran to, “That way.”

“I need to know that you’re okay first,” he ordered.

“I’m fine,” you managed to choke, “Go. I’ll talk to Gordon.”

The sirens were right outside the club, you knew the GCPD had only just arrived.

Batman disappeared behind the kitchen doors.

You sat there for a moment to recollect your thoughts. What had Red Hood meant when he asked you those things?

You stood up and calmed yourself down before surveying the room.

It was a horrible mess. Something out of the scenes of a Tarantino movie. There was blood on the dance floor, and smeared in footprints everywhere else. There were splatters on the walls, and the stench- you gagged.

It smelt like blood and shit and vomit.

“Jesus,” Gordon came through the doors, “What the hell happened here?”

“Someone called the Red Hood,” you croaked, walking towards the Commissioner, “Ever heard of him?”

“The gang?” he lit his cigarette.

“No,” you held your breath. The stench was really getting to you. “A man. I think he means to take control of the other gangs. He had an arsenal with him and what we saw in his bag. Semi-autos, grenades, handguns, and a-”

“And a Transformer,” Gordon pointed to the heap of metal lying on the ground. Bruce probably stuck an EMP on it.

“Yeah. He’s strong too,” you winced as you were reminded of the ache around your neck, and started massaging it. You had been Robin for 3 years already, and training with Bruce an additional 2 years before that. Not many people could rough you up the way he did. He was almost as good as Dick.

“You okay, kid?” Gordon asked, eyeing your neck.

“I’m fine,” you dismissed, “Anyway, he wears a red helmet, and has a red bat on his chest. Around six foot two, and maybe two hundred pounds.”

“Red bat on his chest?” Gordon’s greying eyebrows shot up, “Is he-”

“He’s not one of ours,” you interrupted him.

He eyed you suspiciously.

“Batman went after him. I should go,” you announced.

“Sure, kid,” he took a drag of his cigarette, “This is going to be one hell of a cleanup.”

You snatched it from his mouth and threw it on the ground.

“Bad for your health, Commissioner,” you scolded him.

“You remind me of my daughter,” he chuckled.

“She must be smart too, then,” you waved at him as you walked out the back door.

[curveofthevalley]

day 11 of rewatching 9-1-1 an episode at a time: S2E1

MY BOY IS HERE! CHRISTOPHER TOMORROW! MADDIE IS HERE! THE WORLD FEELS RIGHT AGAIN!

[lonestardaily]

Each week Lone Star Daily looks to provide you with a decent (not  comprehensive) list of the fanfics that have been posted for the week.  The week runs from Friday - Thursday, as that way it does give us an  opportunity to put the list together. There’s no requirement to tag us  as we will check the tags #911 lone star fic and #911lsfic while also  combing through ao3. We currently are only going to post new fics, not  updates. You can check out this week’s fics below the cut.

All our past recs can be found on this page.

Please  feel free to give this post a boost to give our writers a chance to  receive some love for the work they do for the fandom.

(if  your fic is not tagged with a tumblr, it’s because we couldn’t find one  - feel free to send us a message and we’ll be happy to add one)

TARLOS FICS

ain’t nothing but heartache by @rmd-writes

↳  (TK x Carlos | Coda | E | 2K)

Fortuitously, Carlos arrives home just as TK steps out of his Uber. Before he can even say hello, TK’s lips are on his, hot and eager.   Carlos finds himself shoved up against his own front door, fumbling to get it open as TK kisses him, gripping the back of his neck. TK shepherds him through the door as soon as Carlos can get it open, pushing him back against it but Carlos grins, he’s not letting TK take charge here.

i want you to unravel me by @reyescarlos

↳  (TK x Carlos | Coda | E | 4.2K)

In the aftermath of the strain that's fallen over them, TK and Carlos bridge the gap with open conversation that brings them closer together, both emotionally and physically.

your handcuffs or mine by @bubblesandroses8​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Smut | M | 2.1K)

After a call dealing with an interestingly placed tattoo, TK gets an idea to surprise Carlos.

pineapple by @chaotictarlos​

↳  (TK x Carlos |  Hurt/Comfort | E | 1.4K)

TK uses his safe word.

how in love and lucky i feel now by @morganaspendragonss​

↳  (TK x Carlos |  Fluff | G | 1.2K)

Carlos is easy to coax back under the covers. TK takes his time this morning, running his hand reverently over the lines of his body, the jut of his hip bone, the ridges of his abs, the curve of his ass. There’s not even anything sexual about it, it’s just…love.

There’s something holy about lying here with Carlos, silent as the sun’s rays stream in through the windows, turning his fiancé’s skin to gold. And when Carlos leans in and kisses him oh so gently, it feels like a benediction.

Secret Moments in a Crowded Room by @strandnreyes​

↳  (TK x Carlos | AU | E | 52.2K)

The greatest performance of their careers is the one the public has no clue about.

Or, the Golden Age of Hollywood AU

Still Waters Run Deep by @welcometololaland​

↳  (TK x Carlos | Coda | E | 6.3K)

Whoever said 'nothing worth having ever comes easy' never met Carlos Reyes. Having Carlos seems like the easiest thing in the world. TK just has to reach out and take him.

OR

The conversations we didn't see from season 1, episode 10.

Show Me What I’m Looking For by Mari_Marie

↳  (TK x Carlos | AU | G | 4.9K)

“What am I supposed to do with him, Michelle? He set his kitchen on fire trying to boil water, but now you expect me to turn him into a restaurant worthy chef in six weeks?”

“Yes. That’s the premise of the show, is it not? You told the network you could turn the worst cook in America into a chef of your caliber within six weeks.” She points at TK trying to operate a pasta machine. “This kid is your challenge. If you can turn him into a chef, then you can probably turn water into wine as well.”

Together We’re Unstoppable by @detective-giggles

↳  (TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | G | 2.1K)

Carlos gets hurt at work and needs to think of making decisions for his future. *** “I don’t know who I am if I’m not a cop. This is all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

“You know,” TK starts slowly, “after I got shot-”

Carlos cuts him off with an angry shake of his head. “No! This is different! You chose that! You decided you weren’t sure if you wanted to be a firefighter anymore. Then you got to decide to stay. I don’t get that choice. That choice is being taken from me. And I don’t-”

OTHER PAIRINGS/CHARACTER FICS

she’s lookin’ vicious when she on me by @mooshkat​

↳  (Mateo x Nancy | PWF | E | 5.1K)

Dressing up doesn't come into play often when they have sex, but when it does, it's always Nancy getting dolled up in some sort of outfit or lingerie set that gets his mouth watering.

Mateo pulls out the set from the bag and swallows. It's sized for him, bought specifically for tonight, and he has to wonder just how long she's been wanting to put him in something like this.

Nancy has a lacy surprise for Mateo when he gets home.

Welcome to the Family by @ramblingdisaster73​

↳  (The Ryders x Wyatt | Missing Scene | G | 2K)

The Ryder family throws a surprise cookout to officially introduce Wyatt to the 126.

*Prompt from Lonestardaily Season 3 Character week - Day 2 S3 moment/coda/missing scene from minor character POV

Oh, yours brought home a stray too? by @ramblingdisaster73​

↳  (Carlos x Grace | Missing Scene | G | 2.7K)

Carlos, Grace, and Charlie bond while the 126 is off at a team building exercise. Breakfast and the Farmers market, with a cameo by Andrea.

Prompt from Lonestardaily season 3 character week - platonic/familial bonding set in S3.

[dipulb3]

2021 Porsche Taycan 4S is a formidable electric sports car

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2021-porsche-taycan-4s-is-a-formidable-electric-sports-car-2/

2021 Porsche Taycan 4S is a formidable electric sports car

Crisp air, crisper performance.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

Porsche’s Taycan EV is ostensibly a Tesla Model S rival — arguably its most direct competitor. Indeed, the Taycan’s all-electric powertrain, prodigious power and four-door design all appear to fall neatly into that mold. But if you’re even passingly familiar with driving Elon Musk’s Dream Machine, it’s quite a surprise to drop all the way down into the bucket of the 2021 Porsche Taycan 4S. The German’s low-slung seating position and view out over the windshield feel infinitely more sports carlike than the more traditional, sedanlike perch found in the Tesla.

Like

Visceral, sports-car-like feel

Effortless acceleration

Endless personalization

Don’t Like

Limited range

Pricy options

No Android Auto

No one-pedal drive mode

In fact, after a week behind the wheel of the Taycan, I’d go so far as to say that were today’s EV market more mature and varied in its number of offerings, many people wouldn’t be tempted to compare these two at all. The Porsche is a 911 that happens to be electric and have an extra set of doors, and the Tesla is arguably more of a sport sedan that happens to be electric (ironic, as the S is a hatchback and the Porsche is a sedan). That’s not a knock on either automakers’ approach to our electric future, as both are wonderfully accomplished machines, but despite these EVs both possessing ludicrous acceleration and handling, they feel totally distinct from each other and live different lives.

It’s evident right from the get-go that Porsche has gone its own way with the Taycan. The whole car sits closer to the ground and its nose and tail are sleeker. As a result, this is a car that requires some practical concessions in return for its more sporting reflexes. I’m not just referring to the 4S’ sports car numbers — the model’s 0-to-60-mph time is 3.8 seconds and its top speed is 155 mph, all of which is well within the bounds of what’s possible from Team Musk.

The 4S is the 482-horsepower (562 hp with launch control) midgrade Taycan, sitting between the recently released 321-hp rear-drive base model and the teleportation-esque 616-hp Turbo. Offering 479 pound-feet of torque, the all-wheel-drive 4S relies on a smaller inverter with the same motor as the Turbo up front, as well as a smaller motor out back. Priced from $105,150 (including a $1,350 destination fee), the Taycan 4S may seem like a relative bargain compared with the $150,000 Turbo, but it’s nevertheless eye-wateringly expensive. A drive in the 4S makes it easy to feel like this model is the Goldilocks of the Taycan family, but the truth is, it’s a stunner from top to bottom, offering amazing all-around driving experiences that are typically coupled with wiltingly high price points.

The Porsche’s difference is in its feel beyond its raw numbers. The 4S’ handling sets it apart, with an immediacy to its steering and braking, paired with a well-sorted air suspension that is everyday-livable, yet capable of making the most out of every corner. It doesn’t even take nine-tenths handling to figure out how special the 4S feels, which is a good thing, because as the photos accompanying this article suggest, the weather isn’t always exactly cooperative. The multimode suspension is compliant enough for everyday comfort, enabling remarkably flat cornering even without selecting stiffer settings. PCCB carbon-ceramic brakes are available, but seem like costly overkill unless you plan to visit racetracks regularly.

Despite not having a hooded binnacle, those digital gauges are visible in all lights.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

The Taycan’s two-speed transmission continues to be something of a novelty in the EV world — nearly every other production electric goes with a single-speed direct-drive. The Taycan’s two-speed gearbox acts on the rear axle to provide both high-speed cruising efficiency and better low-end acceleration. While you probably won’t even notice the transmission’s operation in everyday driving, it is noticeable under hard acceleration. That’s not a complaint — it’s actually nice to get a subtle thwack in the back as the transmission shifts gears, as it gives the Taycan a reassuringly mechanical quality, even if it doesn’t presently make the 4S materially quicker than models from You Know Who.

Interestingly, you won’t find a full-blown one-pedal driving mode in this Taycan, although you can adjust the amount of lift-off energy recuperation. Porsche says this approach affords more consistent braking feel regardless of the battery’s state of charge, and indeed, the 4S offers the most natural modulation of any EV I’ve ever encountered. Having said all that, this driver would still prefer to have a one-pedal option.

The 4S’ sports carlike demeanor extends to its driving range, which is just 227 miles according to the EPA — and that’s when equipped with the optional dual-layer 93.4-kilowatt-hour lithium-ion pouch Performance Battery Plus, a $6,580 option. The 79.2-kWh standard-battery model taps out at 199 miles, and both range totals are significant improvements over the figures promised for the 2020 model. Both are a pittance compared with what’s available elsewhere, including the Model S Long Range Plus’ EPA-estimated 402 miles.

In profile, the Taycan’s 911-like design characteristics come through best.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

As we at Roadshow and other outlets have told you in the past, not all range estimates work out the same in the real world, and we’ve found it’s significantly easier to get (or beat) the stated range of Porsche’s Taycan family in more situations than we have been able to in various Teslas. On the downside, Porsche nickels-and-dimes you for the best charging experience — an onboard 150kW/400V DC charger is a $460 option and Mobile Charge Connect (a charge cord with a built-in 5-inch screen) is $1,120. Even Porsche Intelligent Range Manager, a software function that calculates charge stops based on available range and driving style, is a further $300.

Fortunately, even an early spring snow in Michigan didn’t thwart my Carrara White Metallic 4S test car’s range, or its driving fun. In the end, though, there’s little doubt that there’s a significant range deficit here, so this Stuttgart special may be best viewed as a Sunday fun-day indulgence or a daily commuter rather than as a viable interstate grand tourer.

As a consequence of its slightly more compact powertrain componentry, the 4S actually offers a bit more rear trunk space than the Turbo, but that’s not to say that any Taycan offers a particularly generous amount of room. This 4S nets out at 17.2 cubic feet spread between its two cargo holds (14.3 cubes in back and 2.9 in the frunk). Compared with the Tesla, the Taycan is arguably best viewed here as an all-electric sports car with some additional spacial flexibility for two extra people in a pinch. (If you need more cargo room, Porsche now offers the Taycan in a fetching Sport Turismo bodystyle).

20-inch Sport Aero ($2,720) wheels thankfully arrived wrapped in Pirelli P-Zero winter rubber.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

It isn’t just the hunkered-down seats that ram home the Taycan’s driving-first message, as the rest of the cabin follows suit. The dashboard is low-slung, with its prominent center stack contributing to a pronounced cockpitlike feel. The reconfigurable all-digital instrument panel is ultra-crisp and legible in any light, despite being hoodless. With tons of piano-black trim and plenty of touchscreen real estate, this particular 4S looks at once sleek and high-tech, but those same finishes make the cabin a fingerprint and dust magnet like few other test cars I can remember.

Speaking of high-tech, you can get the Taycan with up to five screens, including the aforementioned 16.8-inch gauge cluster. The central touchscreen measures 10.9 inches, plus there’s an 8.4-inch HVAC touchscreen and an optional 5.9-inch passenger display (not fitted to this vehicle).

Like my fellow Roadshow compatriots, I’ve come to appreciate Porsche’s latest-generation infotainment, though there is a learning curve and some will wish for more physical switchgear — especially for easier manipulation of things like airflow, which is controlled entirely via menus instead of a more intuitive manual approach. If you’re looking for the simplest solution, you can rely on Apple CarPlay for most functions, but Android Auto remains unavailable, at least until the 2022 model year, when Porsche will start filtering the tech into various models in its lineup.

Maybe just a few more miles…

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

My particular test car has comfortable, supportive 18-way power Adaptive Sport Seats ($400) clad in unusual Race-Tex fabric upholstery. With many high-end buyers seeking alternatives to traditional leather seats, this Graphite Blue material could be a welcome alternative, but I find it to be a bit coarse, both to the hand and, at $4,130, to the wallet. All-in, combined with other pricy options like 20-inch Sport Aero wheels ($2,770) and a $7,170 Premium Package (Bose audio, fixed glass roof, 360-degree camera coverage, ventilated seats and other niceties), this model rings up at $136,190 before available federal and state EV incentives. That’s a lot of coin in options, but Porsche’s build-it-your-way configurability is off the charts, and as such, $30,000 in options isn’t an atypical amount for Porsche customers at this end of the spectrum.

In the end, even with four doors, the Taycan 4S absolutely feels like the Porsche sports car of the future. It offers rewardingly self-assured, tactile high performance in a unique formula at a very exclusive price. As the middle child of the most driver-focused EV family available today, the 4S is a formidable and downright lustworthy machine — provided you’re willing to look beyond its spec sheet and price tag.

[park298]

How to Find a Manager For a Mobile Home Park

Mobile home parks are a very low management type of real estate. Unlike most other forms of real estate (apartments, self-storage, duplex, etc.) not much happens on a daily basis. This is because the "business" is renting small plots of land for people to put trailers. Nothing new ever happens with the land, and the tenant is responsible for just about everything except the water and sewer pipes, and potholes in the road. In fact, almost every tenant problem ends in explaining to them that they need to call 911 to resolve the petty issue between them and their neighbor. As long as the water and sewer is flowing, the roads are flat, the common areas are mowed, and the tenants are paying, there is not much for a mobile home park manager to do.

Obviously, the performance hurdle is not high in managing a mobile home park. But you still need to have a "warm body" that can take care of the minor items, and act as you eyes and ears at the property between visits. So how do you find someone?

The most important quality of a successful manager

I bet you're thinking that it's some certification or personality trait. But it's not. It's much more simple: the manager has to live in the mobile home park.

Living in a mobile home park is not something that you would voluntarily throw out at a job interview. But for this job, it is more essential than the "where do you see yourself in five years" question of most interviews. I have never had a manager who did not live in the mobile home park work out. And I don't think they possibly could, if you think about it rationally.

There are no regular office hours

What derails normal real estate management in a mobile home park is that an office that's open from 9 to 5 is the most inappropriate concept ever. If there is going to be a problem in a mobile home park, it's always going to be any time other than 9 to 5 on Monday through Friday. Because nobody's home then. And the real problems only occur when everyone is home. The sewer normally only backs up when you apply new water to a sewer clog. When nobody is home, there is no water usage. Further, the peak water usage occurs at about 7:30 am (getting ready for work and school) and 6:00 pm (washing off after a day of work). The same is true of the peak amount of pull on all the utilities. In some parks, you find master-metered electrical systems. When do they "brown out" or catch fire? Normally after work when everyone turns on their air-conditioning simultaneously. Even tenant disputes among themselves (which the park is not even going to get involved in, except to suggest calling 911) happen at night. And collections, if you give the manager that duty, will not work when everybody's gone during the day.

So if you are trying to manage a park, 9 to 5 is the worst time to select for on-site management.

Walk a mile in their shoes

Most managers who do not live in mobile home parks have great difficulty understanding the mentality and choices of your customers. Due to this communications gap, many individuals who have successfully managed apartments or other properties have trouble replicating that success in a park.

For example, park residents are often different than those in other real estate niches. Much of what they store in and around their yard is part of their lifestyle and cultural adaptation. If you are to enforce the park rules, you have to know what is acceptable from what is not acceptable - and only someone who thinks like a park resident can discriminate from what is normal and what is abuse of the rules. Many managers from outside the park business have a long learning curve ahead, and in the interim, will create many problems for you by being overly tough on tenants and decrease your rate of customer retention.

In addition, they will often "look down" on residents, and create problems just from their attitude and manner. An effective manager needs to understand the customer and how to get the job done without offending them - and an outsider just can't.

So how do you find a manager in your own park?

First, drive through your park. Make a list of the nicest lots (it does not have to be just the newer homes) - ones that clearly show taste and pride of ownership. These are your top candidates. Now match that list to your collections list, and see if any of these folks pay on time every month. If they can't manage their own affairs, they surely cannot manage yours.

Then send a letter to each of these residents describing the job and the amount you will pay, and then see who contacts you. You want a manager with enough ambition and energy to make the first call, if you can find one. If none call, then you call them and see if they are interested.

From that pool, I have found that the most effective managers are home 24/7 - either stay-at-home housewives, or retired people. These two groups are also beneficial since they are not trying to make being a manager their "day job", and this will minimize your risk of embezzlement used mobile home for sale in New Braunfels .

And guess the best office location?

That's right. It's in their house. If you follow the logic of the earlier statements, then the only appropriate office in the park is in your manager's house. Once you have made this adjustment, you now have a manager who is on-duty 24/7. They don't have to have any set office hours - everyone knows where to go with their problems.

And what do you do with the old park office? Put a sign on the door that says "I am out on property right now. Call my cell at () -_". It's that easy.

And did I mention the fact that you now have no more park office telephone, electrical or gas charges? In many cases, that alone will pay for the manager.

Conclusion

There are many ways to manage a park. But there is only one way to succeed in hiring a manager. And that is from within. If you want to find a winning manager in your park, look no farther than your rent roll.

For over a decade, Frank has been involved in all facets of the mobile home park business as an owner/operator of parks in four different states. His experience includes: Purchasing and operating over 25 mobile home parks as an investor Performing "due diligence" on hundreds of other mobile home parks. At one point, ranking as the 63rd largest owner of mobile home parks in the U.S. Frank has achieved a high-level of expertise in evaluating, buying, operating, turning around, financing, and selling mobile home parks. His experiences are real life, and he can provide you with real life scenarios and solutions on almost any issue that you can face as an investor or operator. His knowledge can be yours through the unique offerings at "Mobile Home Park College" as a Faculty Member.

[wallpaperpainter]

Five Quick Tips For Red Accent Wall | Red Accent Wall

Each week, Mansion Global tackles a affair with an aristocratic accumulation of designers from about the apple who assignment on affluence properties. This anniversary we attending at how to accomplish a abyssal attending feel chic.

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Nautical architectonics is the affectionate of attending that never goes out of style. Ideal for a home by the sea, the hues that ascertain the artful booty their cue from the coast—the water, the sand, the sky and all the accoutrements that appear with activity on or beneath the depths.

Depending on how abounding accents you incorporate, the attending can go blatant or classic. For tips on adorning your interiors with a abyssal blow that transcends time and place, chase these tips from the architectonics pros.

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