#because of the um *gestures* foreign exchange program

[hillmon]

that was such a good game :) i will be rebageling many gifs come morning. but for now i must rest

[jasontoddiefor]

Idk if you write ocs, but if you do, can you write something about a male teen vigilante that was Jason's best friend? Something angsty but with a happy ending maybe, like Jason feels all alone after he came back and oc yells at him and makes him see he really cares about him?

Well, I wasn’t writing it before but now I sure am. Hope you enjoy this!

There was not a lot to be said about Arlo Temmings, exhausted high school student, but plenty about the upstart vigilante Stardust. Stardust was not affiliated with the batclan, not really, but Arlo supposed that had more to do with the fact that he really wasn’t the heroic, batarangs blazing, taking down mob bosses kind of vigilante. Arlo’s powers allowed him to heal others, given that he was physically well enough and had eaten enough. He’d always thought all those videos about metahumans and their heightened metabolism were jokes, but ever since he’d woken up with the ability to literally kiss away bruises, he’d been eating nonstop. Protein shakes were his new favorite breakfast, lunch and dinner because you could only eat so many pizzas before you started throwing them up on sight.

Arlo hadn’t even wanted to become a vigilante or do anything that had to do with healing. Honestly, he was planning to graduate high school with a just average enough GPA and then get some average job somewhere. He used to have bigger ambitions when he was twelve and had the coolest best friend possible.

Well, Jason Todd had been the tutor he’d gotten through their schools’ exchange programs, but he’d acted more like a friend. A very nerdy friend who was the living proof that some people got extremely lucky in life while others didn’t, but his friend nonetheless. Jason had planned to get a college degree at a fancy school, out of Gotham and told Arlo he should dream bigger as well, like graduating with honors big. Studying architecture.

Jason would be pretty disappointed to see how terrible Arlo’s grades had gotten, but Jason was dead and dead people couldn’t do shit.

So Arlo knew pretty much nothing about how human bodies worked except that the mitochondria were the powerhouse of the cell. Arlo had been flunking his biology exams ever since he had first been forced to learn about the fact that plants didn’t, in fact, just grow when Poison Ivy decided that now would be an awesome time to wreck an entire city block.

She’d also been the reason he got pushed into this whole hero business. Turned out that Arlo’s abilities were immensely useful when it came to disaster relief and so Stardust had been born. Crime Alley’s very own non-violent superhero, running around in a black hoodie, a Venetian mask covered with stars, and dark, paint-splattered jeans. Nobody had tried to hurt him yet when he walked out. Pushing the bats around who were all too willing to put you away for life was one thing, hurting the kid whose voice cracked when he was nervous, but could heal your broken bones while glowing like a supernova was something different. Arlo enjoyed his immunity, really. He only wanted to help others, make the world a slightly better place. He’d grown up staring at the pretty buildings at the other end of the city, wanting to live in one of them and built his dream around that. This situation wasn’t so different.

Tonight had been one of the bad nights though. Arlo had already gone through most of his snacks as people of all ages came to find him. Usually, he just walked through the streets, people spotted him and pulled him in new directions. It was reckless and stupid, but everybody knew Arlo was kind of untouchable because he cared for everyone and so everyone cared for Arlo.

And it wasn’t like anybody would be waiting for him at home. His father had died years ago and his mother was never there. The streets were kinder, more vibrant and alive, than Arlo’s actual home.

“Thank you,” the girl whose knee he’d fixed whispered.

“No problem,” Arlo repeated and yawned. He was tired and he had an early class tomorrow, or today if he wanted to be honest with himself. He should head back and try to catch at least three hours of sleep.

Arlo grabbed his bike and began heading home. As an unaffiliated vigilante, he didn’t have any fancy bat tech. Red Robin had offered to get him something, but Arlo wouldn’t know where to stick that anyway. Besides, the mob might start roughing him up if they knew he was on Batman’s payroll. So instead, Arlo had an actual normal bicycle. It had been a gift from Red Hood, who’d been a little appalled that Arlo just got everywhere by foot.

“That’s dangerous,” he’d said like he wasn’t waving around a gun at the same time.

Red Hood was a strange vigilante. He was no hero, he hurt and killed people, wrecked and ruined them and left behind a terrifying warzone. But he didn’t hurt kids.

That was one thing every child in Crime Alley knew. As long as you were young still, you didn’t have to fear the Red Hood. Adults were fair game, they were supposed to be better, but kids were just kids. Arlo himself had only just turned fifteen. He’d spent his birthday watching cartoons and doing an extra-long nightshift and then accepted a sleek black bicycle as his birthday present. He was reasonably sure the entire batclan knew who his civilian identity was, Red Hood did for sure or he wouldn’t have been able to deliver the bike to his house door. Arlo stopped his bike and parked it in the small garage all the families on the top floor had to share and made his way upstairs. He stretched and tiredly pulled his keys out of his pocket to open his door when he noticed that it wasn’t closed.

So his mom was back, likely drunk as well. Great.

Arlo pushed open the door and closed it behind himself. Without much care, he walked down the hallway, not bothering to turn on the lights. His mom would just complain about a headache or something. He entered the kitchen and opened up the fridge. Happily, he noticed that his takeout was still there. He took it out of the fridge and fished a fork out of the water basin and began munching on his noodles. He was so freaking hungry. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed his meal.

“Aahrlo?”

Arlo would later claim that he didn’t, in fact, scream, but that was exactly what he did when he heard somebody who was very much not his mother whisper his name. The food dropped on the floor and Arlo twisted around. Behind the table, in the very right corner of the kitchen, sat a dark figure. The must be tall and their hair was an inky black color.

“Red Hood?” Arlo asked and immediately rushed over to the other vigilante. “You- uh. Um, what are you doing here?”

He was pale and Arlo didn’t think it was just because of the moonlight illuminating his skin.

“Head wound,” Red Hood replied. “Didn’ know where else t’ go.”

Arlo kneeled down next to Red Hood and could only now spot the dark red that was quelling out between his hair. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, he was not going to bleed out in Arlo’s kitchen.

“Can you ‘elp?”

He was slurring his words, Arlo was pretty sure that was a bad sign. Due to the bad light, he couldn’t actually make out a lot of his features, and his mask still covered his eyes, but even so, Red Hood sounded so familiar and young. Arlo’s age kind of young. He’d never seen the other vigilante without his red helmet, but he’d assumed he was older. He was so brutal, so skilled.

Nothing like Stardust who barely knew how to throw a punch and was relying on other people’s goodwill.

“Hold still,” Arlo ordered and put his hands on Red Hood’s wound. The vigilante hissed, but Arlo didn’t even twitch anymore. He’d gotten so used to the feeling of blood sticking to his hands, it was almost welcome. He associated it with the rush he got when his powers activated.

“You glow,” Red Hood muttered, entirely out of it. He had lost a lot of blood, but head wounds generally bled a lot, didn’t they? “Like a fairy.”

Arlo giggled nervously and pushed his long dreads behind his back. “A girl I helped tonight told me I look like Rapunzel.”

“Nah,” Red Hood replied. “You’re not stuck in a tower all by yourself. You’re not-“ His breath hitched. “-not lonely at all.”

The wound was slowly closing, not as fast as it usually would, but Arlo was also dead tired.

“I don’t know,” Arlo confessed. “I feel pretty lonely all the time.”

Red Hood laughed, it was a dark and bitter sound, tethering on the edge of a sob or so it seemed to Arlo.

“But you’re good, always were. Helping people and all that. You’re not like me, you don’t fuck up. You stop listening and don’t give in to all that anger. You’re good and you don’t push people away and hurt them all over again.”

Arlo took his hands off Red Hood’s head and rested them on his thighs, blood smearing all over his jeans.

“You’re good too,” Arlo said. “You help people-“

“No,” Red Hood interrupted him harshly. “I just- I just get rid of problems. I shot a man point-blank. His brains just- it was everywhere and the kids were screaming and I just made everything worse but I was so fucking angry and didn’t even care-“

Arlo wasn’t good with words. He didn’t like reading, his dyslexia made it a god damn nightmare, and he couldn’t use all those fancy words he used to practice during tutoring because they felt so foreign on his tongue. Gestures, though, he knew. His parents used to be affectionate. His father was always holding him, had been holding him the day he died, protecting Arlo against debris. Slowly, to avoid startling him, Arlo put his arms around Red Hood. The other man tensed beneath Arlo’s touch, then slowly relaxed in his hold and even went as far as resting his head on Arlo’s shoulder, probably smearing blood all over it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Arlo said, at loss for words.

“You shouldn’t be,” Red Hood replied. “You really, really shouldn’t.

“Well, I am,” Arlo insisted. “In fact, I’m so glad I’m going to cook you something because I need to eat and you need to eat and then I can heal any other injuries you have as well.”

Arlo kept on blabbering about whatever came to his mind until Red Hood was seated at his kitchen table and Arlo could hardly keep his eyes open anymore.

So, really, there wasn’t much to be said about Arlo Temmings, exhausted high school student and part time vigilante. His grades were held together by duct tape and safety pins and sometimes Red Hood nearly bled out in his kitchen while Arlo made an utter fool of himself and fell asleep on him.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Your Favorite? [1]

Plot: AU You’re part of the exchange program group from another country attending a Semester Abroad for university credit in Australia. The other students have been welcoming and friendly since you’ve arrived. You fell in with three students but two of them may like you more than just as a friend. So the big question they have for you is: who is your favorite Aussie?

Rating: PG (Light language, crushes, friendly competition)

Characters: University Student!Christopher (Bang Chan), University Student!Felix, University Student!Rosé, Foreign Exchange Student!Female Reader, plus mention of other members.

Notes: This was inspired by another event during the time I hosted Australian exchange students in high school. We all attended a party with the hosts and exchange students and a mutual friend of the girls I hosted tried to get me to say he was my favorite Aussie. (One of the girls I hosted, plus another exchange student shut him down quickly to save me from awkwardness, but it was funny.) In this story, I’m focusing only on the Aussie line from Stray Kids and BLACKPINK. (I know there’s two other idols who are from Australia but I’m not as familiar with them and I wanted to keep it focused on these three.)

2

                                                ---------------------

“I need to study with you for the next exam,” Rosé sighed as she moved her bag higher on her shoulder.

You swiped her test from her hand and took a quick look. “The grade’s not that bad Rosie – it’s better than the class average!”

“But it’s still not as high as I wanted it!” she pouted. She puffed her cheeks out like a chipmunk and you laughed, before passing the test back.

“She’s storing nuts again,” a warm voice teased from behind.

Both of you turned to see it was Christopher, another student in your year, who was studying Music Production. Rosé scowled at the comment and nudged Christopher in the arm, which prompted him to fake being hurt.

“Y/N, she’s hurting me!” he whined.

Rosé shot him a look and gestured to his impressive biceps. “I didn’t elbow you that hard! Besides, you’ve got muscles.”

“Blame Han – he called you Chaemunk,” Chris whispered, pretending to nurse his arm.

“Come on you two, knock it off,” you said, shaking your head. “Can we talk about anything else that doesn’t involve Contemporary Literature?”

Christopher straightened up and came around to your other side. He tilted his head and shared that his roommate was hosting a party this weekend.

“Which one? Han or your exchange student roommate Changbin?” you asked.

“Han of course,” Christopher confirmed. “Binnie’s going to be there too, but he’s a bit shy.”

You raised a brow and Rosé explained that she heard the last party Chris was at got shut down by authorities. He held his hands up and insisted it wasn’t his party.

“Ladies, I was an attendee the last time!” he protested. “I make sure we respect the neighbors, don’t let the underage ones drink, and everyone is safe.”

“Sorry Chris, but Rosie and I already made plans,” you shared. “Plus I promised Lix I’d beat him in a round of Mario Party.”

“Lix? You mean Felix Lee?”

“Yeah I call him Lix sometimes,” you clarified. “Maybe we can grab lunch or coffee next week?”

“Oh um, course!” he said as you neared your dormitory. “Well, see you.”

                                                 ---------------------

“You’re moping because of Y/N, aren’t you?” Changbin asked him in Korean. He had taken a break from messing with a track he was composing and saw Chris was glumly looking through his phone.

“Huh? Um no, no! Binnie, I’m bored, that’s all!” Chris insisted. He tried to turn his phone off, but Changbin already noticed that Chris was scrolling through your Instagram.

“You’re Instagram-stalking her,” the roommate noted with an amused look. “Look, why not ask her on a real date?”

Chris put his phone face down and sighed. In theory, he should have pucked up the courage to tell you that he thought you were cool. You completely defied his expectations of someone from your home country and he liked spending time with you. The semester was starting to fly by and eventually, you’d be leaving Australia, possibly for good. But he hated the thought of putting himself out there, only to end in rejection and losing a good friend in the process.

Changbin took a seat next to the other male and folded his hands on the counter. He looked around the kitchen and sighed.

“I get...that you don’t want to scare her off,” he said, “but I think you’re going to hate yourself if you say nothing.” He looked over his shoulder at Chris and asked if you were coming to Han’s party.

Chris shook his head and revealed that you already made plans with Rosé and Felix this weekend. Changbin nodded to show he understood and tilted his head as he thought for a moment.

“Maybe next weekend or after class? If you’re worried, maybe do something lowkey, like coffee or ice cream?” he suggested.

                                                ---------------------

“Buh bye Loser!” you taunted as you steered your character past Felix’s. You pressed your controls to make your car jump a bridge in the mini challenge, and whooped when it landed safely on the other side. Your car was moments away from the Finish line when Felix’s car landed behind yours.

You hunched your shoulders forward as you steered the car, trying to keep the gap between your car and his. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Felix poking his tongue out through his lips as he concentrated on the path to the Finish line.

You bit your lip as some boulders rolled across your path and you made swerving maneuvers and some jumps to avoid them. Felix hit one and groaned loudly as his car spun out of control, hitting another in the process. This gave you enough time to push forward and have your avatar cross the finish line.

“YES!” you cheered, throwing your controller down.

Felix huffed as he put his down a bit roughly on the couch, shaking his head. “That’s not fair!”

You whirled around and grinned, leaning over to rumple his hair. “Tough luck Lix – I said I wasn’t going easy on you.”

Felix managed to keep the pout on his face, chewing on his bottom lip slightly to hide how much he liked your fingers running through his hair. He knew the gesture was done in a friendly, almost sibling-like manner, but he wished you see that it was only a year gap between the both of you.

“Okay, what’s the punishment for losing?” he deadpanned.

You shook your head and told him that you weren’t putting him through a punishment. “You said we should hang and try to beat each other in games, so that’s what we did,” you reminded him, resuming your place on the couch. You smiled softly and thanked Felix for inviting you over. “I really needed to stop thinking about my classes and tests and do something mindless but fun. Thanks Felix.”

He softened his expression and nodded, allowing a brilliant smile to spread across his face.

“Of course,” he replied.

                                                ---------------------

“You’re not paying for mine!”

Chris smirked as he slid in front of you and passed over money for your coffee and pastries to the cashier. “Too late.”

“I’ll pay you back,” you insisted as you grabbed your cup and plate with the choux bun.

He shook his head and declared it was his treat. You sighed, thanking him as you carried your things over to a table by the window. He followed with his cup and some napkins and forks.

He had taken Changbin’s advice and asked if you wanted to check out this trendy dessert cafe in town after both of you were done with class. It was lowkey and this way he could gauge your feelings for him before pouring his heart out to you.

“Classes going all right?” he asked as he sank into his seat.

You nodded as you put the choux bun in the center of the table, indicating that you could share it with him. He passed you a fork and some napkins, prompting you to take the first bite.

You stabbed your fork into the pastry and picked up some of the shell and the creme filling. He watched as you tried your bite, then flashed him a thumbs up.

“You should take Han here – this is really good!” you said.

“Maybe I will,” he mused before taking some of the pastry to try. “Everyone missed you at the party this weekend.”

“How crazy did it get?” you asked before taking a sip of your coffee.

Chris finished his bite and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Actually it wasn’t bad! We did offer a few drinks, but everyone knew to be respectful of the neighbors. Craziest thing that happened was Han had to kiss some girl because he lost at Suck and Blow.”

“Anyone he was interested in?” you asked.

Chris opened his mouth to reply, but was startled by someone tapping on the glass. You turned your head and smiled when you saw it was Felix, accompanied by his friend Minho. Both boys waved to you before entering the cafe and making their way to your table.

“Perfect timing!” Felix remarked as he wrapped his fingers around his messenger bag strap. “Minho was looking for you, Chris. Said he’s struggling with his Japanese homework.”

Minho nodded as he came up beside Felix and produced a test. “Sorry hyung, but I know this grade’s not good enough for my mom – I’m doing extra credit homework to make up for this. Can you help me now?”

Chris resisted the urge to sigh, silently wishing that the universe would just work in his favor for once. He plastered a small smile on his face and motioned for Minho to follow him to another area of the cafe. Felix mouthed a thank you to Chris, before asking if he could try the pastry.

“Ask Y/N – it’s hers really,” Chris said before guiding Minho to a quieter area.

Felix pointed to the plate and you told him to have some. He grinned as he sank in Christopher’s chair, putting his bag down on the ground. He reached out and broke off a piece, placing it in his mouth.

You pointed to the corner of his mouth, noticing he had some cream on the corner. He accepted a napkin from you and wiped it off.

                                                ---------------------

Han

Y/N!! You missed my party. :( Sent 16:32 PM

Y/N

Sorry Han! Maybe next time? Sent 16:36 PM

Han

How about game night tonight? You, me, Chaemunk, Felix, Chris, Binnie, and Minho? Sent 16:38 PM

“May I get you ladies anything to drink?” Han asked after you and Rosé arrived.

“Water,” you both replied.

“That’s it?” Han asked with a pout.

“No drunken Truth or Dare,” you warned him. “I came to play games, not get so wasted that I can’t remember making out with someone.”

“We’re not drinking either!” Felix called out as he leaned to the side, trying to see who joined. Minho mimicked his movement, holding up a soda can.

“Hey, I’m not either!” Chris protested as he showed his water bottle.

“It’s just Han who wants to,” Changbin remarked with an amused smile.

Han shook his head and insisted that he’d forgo alcohol tonight too. “I only wanted to make the offer in case.” He pulled out two water bottles and passed them to you and Rosé.

You opened yours and took a sip, while Rosé asked where the restroom was. Changbin rose from his seat and pointed out the directions to the bathroom. She thanked him before excusing herself.

Han cracked open a soda and took a long sip from it. He sighed, putting the can down on the counter. “So Y/N, your semester here’s almost over,” he noted.

Your shoulders slumped and you sighed, glumly recapping your water bottle. You had tried not to think about it, since it meant you would be going back to your university and leaving all of your wonderful new friends behind. Sure there was social media where you could keep in touch and you could always try to save money to visit them, but it wasn’t the same. All of your little spots to visit with friends, the sights you’d see on your walks to campus or days off, they would be very different once your semester ended.

“Yeah I guess it’s coming up really soon,” you said. “I was having a good time that I didn’t realize it was almost over.”

Felix looked over at you and Chris threw Han a look for dampening the mood. Han shrugged as he took another sip from his can. A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips as he asked, “So, out of everyone you’ve met...who’s your favorite person?”

You blinked at the question and looked around at all of the people in the room. Changbin spoke up and added that you shouldn’t count him in the possible list of people.

“I’m an exchange student too,” he reminded you. “I think this is more for the local students. So to rephrase Han’s question: who is your favorite Australian friend here?”

You uncapped your water bottle and took a sip from it, trying to delay your answer. It didn’t seem fair to pick just one of them – all of the people you met were wonderful in their own way.

“Well technically I’m not from Australia and Han isn’t either,” Minho added with a thoughtful look. “So, is Chris-hyung, Felix, or Rosé-noona your favorite?” He took a sip from his soda can and smirked, looking at Felix, then Chris.

You slowly swallowed the water you were drinking, not daring to look at either of the guys named. Picking one of them wasn’t going to be fair to the other and honestly, both of them were great. You liked Chris who was easy to talk to and a good listener. Felix had a warm, friendly personality and you always had fun with him.

“Um can I pass on the question out of courtesy to everyone?” you asked in a small voice.

The guys looked at you in confusion, then Han began talking, with Minho adding over him that you had to pick one. Changbin rolled his eyes and shook his head at Minho for starting trouble. Chris sighed as he tried to get Han’s attention.

“HEY!” Felix yelled. This made Han and Minho stop talking and everyone turned their attention to him. His eyes met yours and he leaned forward in his seat slightly.

“Y/N, we can handle this,” he said.

Chris nodded as he stepped forward, putting his water down as he walked closer. He flattened his palms on the counter and tilted his head. “We’re all adults here – no one’s gonna get their feelings hurt,” he reassured you.

You closed the water bottle again and looked from Chris to Felix again. For once, you wished you had said no to Han tonight. Sure both of the guys might be okay with you picking one person, but you knew one of them would be hurt if you showed favoritism toward the other.

“So honestly Love, is it me?” Chris asked with a sly grin.

You blinked and Felix rose from his seat, making his way to the same counter where the elder boy stood. He propped his elbows on the counter and rested his chin cutely between his hands.

“Sorry Chris, but I think I’m her favorite – you know with all of the fun games and excitement I have to offer in my room,” Felix chimed in. “She does love her Mario games.”

“Guys look, I –”

You felt someone wrap their arms around you and you turned to see it was Rosé, squishing you in a cute side hug. She flashed you her cutest smile and you couldn’t help but smile in turn.

“Sorry guys, but it’s me!” Rosé sang.

[chimchimsauce]

Marvel (4)

Synopsis: Park Jimin was much too familiar with how one night stands work. Not because he engaged in them often. As a matter of fact, he had only hit the sack with a stranger once. But that feeling of hurt - of disappointment - plagued him. Because a lot can happen in a single night. From falling in love with a foreign girl in a matter of hours inside of a shitty 7/11 to the small girl staring up at him with galaxies in her doe eyes.

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Jimin

There’s an awkward clearing of a throat once Gaia’s sobs have subdued to hiccups.

“So what do we do now?” Taehyung asks, voice trailing off into silence.

Gaia pulls away from me quickly, as if she’s woken up from a dream. 

I feel cold the second she’s gone.

She wipes her eyes quickly and pulls on her sweatshirt, adjusting it and pulling it farther down.

“What,” she clears her throat, “what do you mean? It’s obvious. All of you leave. I’ve already told you, she isn't yours. This doesn't have anything to do with you,”

Yoongi hyung sighs heavily.

“Look. I don't know why you're insisting she’s not his kid, but this is getting old real quick. Just let him take the paternity test. It’ll be over faster that way,”

Gaia shakes her head.

“Look, lady,” Hoseok says, “we’re busy people. This has already fucked up our schedules enough. If we don't get the test, Jiminie he’ll dwell on it for the rest of his life. It's best if we just get it over with,”

“But why does it matter? No matter what that test says, nothing will change. My baby and I will go back home and the seven of you will go back into the spotlight,”

“Are you kidding me?” I ask her, flabbergasted, “this changes everything. We have a kid, Gaia,”

“That’s not what you told me four years ago,” She says, so quietly I almost don't hear her.

“What?”

“You, or whoever works for you. Don't act like you're clueless, Park Jimin,”

I look at the other members, even the bodyguards. None of them seem to know what’s going on.

“What? Baby, I don't know what you're talking about,”

She glares at me and I feel my heart stop.

“How about something along the lines of ‘Please, Miss, stop contacting this company. Mr. Park has repeatedly stated that he has never had contact with someone named Gaia Cline, nor did he leave the dorms on the day of your supposed encounter. If you continue to harass this company or the people it represents, we will have to take legal action. We have documented all accounts of our interactions and we assure you it’s enough to warrant a restraining order,’” she says, reciting each word perfectly as if she’d done it a million times.

I just blink, so taken aback by the words I’d never spoken.

“Ga -”

“You had your chance,” she says, glaring at me almost angrily enough to mask the sorrow in her eyes, “Your intentions were loud and clear. You didn't want anything to do with me or our child,”

“So she is mine,” I say, sagging with relief.

“No. She’s not. You gave that up before her heart even started beating,”

“I didn't -”

“Look. It’s almost midnight. I’m sorry about crying on you earlier, my emotions run rampant when it’s late, but you need to leave. All of you. And don't come back,”

Her tone is final.

“Would you stop interrupting me?!” I say, getting fed up.

Her eyebrows shoot up.

“I know you did not just yell at me,”

Sighing, I run my hands through my hair again.

“Gaia, just, hear me out, please. I - there's been a mistake. Before three days ago, I didn't know we had a child. I swear that I was not the one who told management that. They didn't even let me know someone was making claims that they were pregnant with my child - certainly not that it was you,”

I bite my bottom lip, hoping my sincerity comes through.

She looks skeptical.

“Why would they do that?”

Thankfully, Namjoon steps in. Until now, he had been leaning against a wall, a look of deep pondering on his face.

“It’s most likely just standard procedure. As artists, we’re supposed to let our managers know when were sexually active, and with who. Because no one knew about your one night stand,” Gaia tenses up when he says this, “they regarded it as a crazy fan trying to get child support or something,”

Gaia wraps her arms around herself and I notice the way the material of her sweatshirt inches up her thighs. She looks like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“What are we going to do now?” Seokjin hyung asks.

“We should talk to our managers and Bang PDnim. This changes everything,” our leader replies.

“We still don't know if it’s his kid,” Jungkook pipes in, only to shut up as soon as Gaia glares in his direction.

“It’s late, though,” Gaia says, still glaring at the youngest, “besides, what’ll that do? I already told you, Mina and I are going home,”

“She’s my daughter. I want to be in her life,” I say, moving towards her.

“Maybe you can facetime her occasionally,”

I open my mouth, about to argue but Namjoon pipes in again.

“Let’s just go visit Bang PD. We’ve got to take this slowly. He'll know what to do,”

“I don't want -” Gaia starts but she cuts herself off when her eyes land on mine.

I don't know what expression I'm making. All I know is that I need her to come with me, need to keep her here along with the child I'm absolutely certain is mine.

“Okay,” she says, “Okay. We'll go. Just let me get dressed and get Mina,”

I nod and she walks back into the room where my baby sleeps.

“This - what're we going to do?” Taehyung asks.

“I don't know. I guess we'll just have to wait and see how it plays out,”

Gaia emerges soon after wearing some sweats and a thin T-shirt, cradling Mina as best she can.

“I got her,” I say, reaching to take my daughter in my arms for the first time.

Gaia hesitantly lets me scoop the preschooler into my arms.

“Don't drop her,” she says, concerned Mother voice in full effect.

“Wouldn't dream of it,”

Mina is warm in my arms. Her breathing is even and soft as she sleeps in my arms. She’s so precious I can barely stop myself from kissing her forehead.

The drive to the entertainment company takes about twenty minutes. Gaia had shown some concern about the lack of proper seating for Mina, but the driver assured her that he would drive carefully. No one speaks the entire time and the little girl stays fast asleep cradled into my chest.

Most of the employees are gone at this hour as the company is technically closed. The only ones here are the people down in the technology hallways in the basement and the people that live and breathe their jobs, like PDnim.

I’ll never forget the look on his face when the nine of us walk into his spacious office. He had been about to fall asleep at his desk until he saw the two new additions to his usual visitor.

“Jimin. What’s going on? Who is this? And the child?”

“This is Gaia,” I say, and his eyes light up in recognition, “and this is Mina, her daughter,”

Gaia looks incredibly uncomfortable and out of place. I want to tell her to relax, but that’ll just draw more attention to her.

“Ah,” PDnim says, “you’re the woman who’s been causing all this chaos lately,”

His tone is jovial and light, causing Gaia to smile slightly.

That same smile she showed me at the 7/11 all those years ago. The same smile that haunts me.

“Yes, sir. I'm sorry about that,” she says sheepishly.

“What’s happened, happened. Let’s just focus on moving forward, shall we?” He says, sitting up straighter.

“Jimin, why don't you lay that little cutie over there on my couch. Your arms must be getting tired,”

They are, but I don't want to put her down. I want to hold her as long as possible.

But I do anyway.

“How old are you?” PDnim asks.

“Twenty-one,”

“And how old is your daughter?”

“Three and a half,”

“So you were eighteen when you had her?”

“Seventeen. I turned eighteen two weeks later,”

“And the child is his? That’s what you're claiming?”

“I'm not claiming anything. I did not seek him out. They’re the ones who showed up at my hotel room unexpectedly,”

She didn't really answer the question. All of us notice.

“I see,” PDnim says.

I’m assuming he'll get back to that later.

“Why don't you have a seat, Miss Cline,” He says, gesturing to one of the seats in front of his desk.

Gaia sits stiffly in the chair. Only her and PDnim are sitting. The rest of us stand alert, apprehensive.

“We'll get back to the child’s parentage in a bit. So, from the files the managers have pulled up, it seems that the first three months of your pregnancy, you made frequent contact with this company. Is that true?”

She nods.

“What did you do after your requests and statements were turned down? Or better yet, could you tell us how exactly your encounter with Jimin went down?”

“Um,” she starts, looking embarrassed, “it’s a long story,”

“We have time,” Yoongi says from beside me.

She ignores him but starts speaking anyway.

“I was here four years ago for an exchange program. I didn't say too long, as it was soon discovered that my host parents were . . . less than fit. A representative from the company came and served as my temporary guardian. We moved into a hotel until I could go back to America. I got restless one night, snuck out - we had separate hotel rooms by the way -   and went to a nearby 7/11. Jimin came in, drunk off his ass. I never knew why,”

“So you slept with him while he was drunk? That makes you a rapist,” Jungkook says.

I can't help myself from smacking him.

“No. It was about six hours from the I met him to the time I slept with him. He was sober. Stop being so much of an asshole,” Gaia says, looking one step away from smacking Kookie herself.

“Jungkook, just let her finish, please. Continue, Miss Cline,”

Gaia glares at Kookie once more.

“Anyway, Jimin left sometime while I slept and that was that. I had no contact with him after that day. I went back to America a week later. After I found out I was pregnant my parents and I had a falling out. It was long coming, but this pushed it over the edge. So I moved in with my grandparents - I hadn't met them until then. I finished school online and gave birth to Mina. Then I lived with my grandparents until last year when they passed,”

“And why’d you decide to come visit Seoul?”

She hesitates.

“My . . . my grandmother thought it’d be a good idea to take Mina here. Let her experience some of . . . her culture,”

PDnim nods.

“So she’s Jimin’s daughter,”

Gaia sigh. A long, dramatic sigh.

“Yes. Yes. Yes, she is,”

“Then we should get a paternity test,” PDnim says, “then we'll see what needs to be done. Work out legal issues,”

“Nothing needs to be done. He can have a paternity test if he really wants since I’ve been asked about one a million and twelve times, but that’s it. Mina and I are going home and all of you will just go about your normal lives,”

“Are you saying that you want me to pretend that I don't have a daughter? Especially when -”

I cut myself off. I almost added, “especially when it’s with you”.

“Yes. It’s worked out well so far, hasn't it?”

I stunned.

“She’s my kid too,”

Gaia shakes her head.

“You weren't there. I know it wasn't your fault, but all that means is I shouldn't've hated you all these years. You still weren't there. You weren't there when I woke up in the middle of the night to vomit, or when she moved for the first time, or when I heard her heartbeat at the doctors. You weren't there when she was born. You didn't cut the cord. You didn't watch her sleep to make sure she was still breathing. You weren't there when her teeth came in or when she crawled. You missed her first words, her first steps. You don't know her favorite food or why she thinks the word pony is hilarious. You’ve never wiped her tear away or washed her hair,”

Tears start to gather in her eyes again, glazing them over.

I’ve never felt guiltier in my life. My chest hurts and I can barely breathe.

“Gaia -”

“She’s my baby, Jimin. Mine. You may have given her to me, but she’s my baby. And I won't let you take her away from me,”

She stands up all of a sudden, sending the chair she was sitting on flying back.

“I'm going to find a bathroom,” She says, leaving before I can even breathe and slamming the door behind her.

Chapter Five

[haphazardlyparked]

the Exchange

regret everything part one  (prequel here)

“Have you heard?” the Dowager asks, obliquely, from her chair behind the secretary’s desk. Sometimes she sits in on Kan’s meetings, acting as his secretary and relegating his actual, useful secretary to the unobtrusive standing table-desk in the corner of Kan’s small audience study.

Kan looks up from the briefing he’d like to tear his eyes out over. The Dowager has an impeccable sense of timing. Setting the briefing aside, Kan rubs tired eyes and asks, “Heard what, Mother?”

“The Samrans want to send an ambassador.”

“The Samrans call me the devil spawn of a tyrant and a tramp. Begging your pardon, Mother. Why do they want an ambassador here?”

“Am I the tyrant, or the tramp?”

“Both, I think,” Kan guesses. “Last I heard, they were claiming you grew me in a test tube, and that Father was paid for his donation.”

“How creative,” the Dowager laughs. “They still want access to our trade alliance. They've asked a bright young group of exchange students to make their case for them, you know. And I’ve heard Samran is a popular language choice for the impressionable youth of the Institute these days.”

Kan’s eyes narrow. “I approved that program hoping it would change Samran minds about us. Instead, they seem to like enticing our children into their camp while still hating my guts.”

“And mine,” the Dowager reminds Kan, her mouth curved into one of those sly, amused smiles. “I can't allow you to throw yourself a one-man pity party, darling boy.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Kan drawls.

“I couldn't abide such a pathetic event.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Kan repeats, more flat this time.

The Dowager flaps her hand at him twice -- you're welcome, you're welcome -- and then says, “Anyway, darling, I brought it up because I moved your meeting with the southern councilmen. Those exchange students should be here in about ten minutes.”

“What?” Kan’s secretary hisses from his corner. “Dowager, I didn't --”

“-- It’s fine, Sem,” Kan assures the other man. “Please send the councilmen my sincerest apologies--” Kan doubts his mother observed such niceties “--and offer them a visit to one of the Hovering centers. I’ll see these students now.”

The students are early, ambitious things that they are. They're mostly second and third years from the High Institute, but their leader is a recent graduate Kan recognizes.

“Sadura, isn't it?” Kan asks, before any of the party can introduce themselves.

The boy Kan saw on his last day at the Institute is taller and has grown out of the stork-like limbs of his youth, and is clearly surprised by Kan’s memory.

“Lord Kan,” Sadura says, bowing politely. “Yes. I’ve recently joined the junior diplomacy department.”

“You did well on those exams, it seems,” Kan comments. Government positions require fives on a majority of Institute exams.

At his secretary’s desk, the Dowager arches a brow at Kan — she never forgets a face. Kan, who learned that from her, ignores her pointed look. He doesn’t need his mother’s judgement to tell him what he already knows: where gangly Noki was a cute boy Kan teased like a younger brother for the short window they had spent together, the young diplomat Sadura is tall and slender, with skin darker than Kan’s, determined pale eyes, and more or less exactly Kan’s type.

“Sir,” Sadura says, almost shyly. But Kan sees something else under that hesitance, something that wants. “I took some good advice, and was inspired to do better.”

Adorable. Ambitious. The advice definitely didn't come from Kan.

Kan smiles, and leans forward in his chair. “And so you have,” he congratulates Sadura warmly. Then says, carelessly, “Now tell me, diplomat, what arguments has Samra stuffed you full of and sent you to deliver?”

Sadura’s pale eyes narrow, sharp and angry. He straightens indignantly, hiding his shock behind stiff politeness.  “Lord Kan,” he says coolly, all hesitance and deference of the moments before gone. “I am here with my own opinions, built on my broad range of experiences and interactions in Samra. You’ll find that each of these students has developed their own opinions based on their own experiences too. We’re none of us mindless propaganda mouthpieces.”

Sadura nods to the oldest of the students, but he does so stiffly, like an angry cat with its back arched. The student’s eyes widen in surprise -- Kan suspects Sadura had planned to say more, perhaps extol the virtue of the exchange program a little, before introducing the students.

“Lord Kan,” the first student says, recovering from her surprised. Her voice is little high-pitched but otherwise respectful. “Sir. I am Abat Hona. I’m a third-year, and one of the current exchange students.”

Kan waits for Abat Hona to go on. She does not. After the expectant silence continues for just a beat too long, Abat Hona nudges the kid next to her, who jumps a little.

“Uh, Lord Kan, sir, my name is Abat Mal. I’m a second year, and also an exchange student, along with my sister.”

The other three students -- another pair of siblings, and another Sadura who looks like a younger, female version of the diplomat Sadura -- take their turns introducing themselves, while Kan wonders if it’s wise that so many pairs of siblings are being sent over to the Samra. Are the Samrans sending siblings back? It’s something that hasn’t been mentioned in the filtered reports that finally make it to his desk. Perhaps it’s time to look into the High Institute again. It has been nearly five years since he’s graduated.

“Don’t we have any only-children at the Institute these days?” the Dowager asks critically, leaning against the secretary’s desk with her chin propped in one of her palms. “Whatever happened to selfish, spoiled, ambitious little brats? Really, I think they would benefit most from such an exchange program.”

“I’m right here, Mother,” Kan says, and the Dowager favors him with a brilliant smile.

“They like siblings, madam,” Kan’s actual secretary, Sem, pipes up, “Because Samra places a great deal of emphasis on the family unit and family values.”

Kan reads between the lines and shares a look with his mother. “Ah, yes, family values,” she says. She turns her eyes towards the ceiling and adds in a murmur, “It’s a good thing I hypothetically had that alleged test tube destroyed.”

“Mother,” Kan complains. He remembers walking in on his parents in the act, and knows perfectly well that no test tubes or syringes full of genetic material were involved in his conception.

“Actually, madam, sir,” Noki interjects. He’s still stiff and annoyed, but confident now in this subject. The confidence looks good on him — he stands straighter, chin raised so all the narrow angles of his face are on display, and Kan should probably stop ogling him and pay attention to what he’s saying. “The problem is not the idea of the test tube -- for you know Samra allows union between any two consenting adults, regardless of the childbearing capabilities of either party. The issue the Samrans have with the Dowager is rather one of fidelity.”

Noki doesn’t stutter or stumble with ums or ahs as he tries to figure out the best way to phrase something so delicately; instead he relies on formality and ultra-proper language that gives him the time to choose his words wisely. The Samrans must love him.

“Thank you for the explanation, Sadura,” Kan grins. “I suppose there’s nothing we can do about that tiny issue of fidelity.” Kan may have only walked in on his parents once, but he walked in on his mother with various lovers at various other points in his life (and regretted it deeply each time.)

“You’re going to have to be the responsibly monogamous one, darling boy,” the Dowager says, with mock sympathy.

“Please, Lord Kan.” It’s Abat Hona again, who looks quickly at Sadura for approval before continuing. “The exchange program doesn’t select siblings specifically, but it does tend to be a self-selecting process… Um. But that’s not the point. Samra really wants to improve relations. They’re ready to send a single, only-child ambassador, as a gesture of how they’re willing to adapt a little to fit in with the alliance’s norms.”

“An ambassador?” Kan repeats, brows rising in feigned surprise. “Since when were we talking about an ambassador?”

“Sir, it’s in the proposal we’ve submitted for the yearly Congress,” Sadura steps in quickly. “The exchange program as a whole will be advocating for the establishment of a Samran ambassadorial position in Tasak.”

“Weren’t you all going on about bilateral trade last year? Is an ambassador a downgrade or an upgrade for your cause?”

At last year’s annual Congress, a stuffy old government official had argued, in the most anesthetizing language available, for the opening of trade talks with Samra. Since Samra bans the purchasing or sale of a good three-quarters of Tasak’s technology exports, and regularly insults its ruling family, the Congress had clapped and laughed at Kan’s swift rejection of that nonsense.  

“Sir?” asks Sadura.

“An ambassador,” Kan repeats. “Is proposing an ambassador your acknowledgement that last year’s idea was utter shit, or are you doubling down on this whole thing with Samra? Come at it from a different angle, get any foot in the door, so to speak, and soon we’ll be two happy neighbors?”

The young diplomat doesn’t frown this time, but Kan can tell he’s offended.

“Sir, the inclusion of an efficient, civilized society into our trade alliance can only benefit the alliance as a whole. And the development of diplomatic relations between two societies which could mutually benefit from each other should be a foreign policy priority that would hopefully result in increased economic and social ties.”

“So it’s not just bilateral trade you want,” Kan translates coolly. “The ambassador is just preliminary step to to get Samra into the alliance.”

“Lord Kan,” one of the other students tries, “last year the Exchange had hoped a bilateral trade deal could be an objective starting point on which to build better relations, and potentially open accession talks between Samra and the whole Tasak Trade Alliance. But Samra understands the need to re-introduce themselves to our coalition of nations, and know they will have to make concessions to earn this privilege. Samra is ready to repeal their ban on the majority of Tasak tech in exchange in preparation to enter the alliance, and we at the Exchange are all hoping that more Tasakese will be interested in learning about Samran craftsmanship and agricultural practices.”

The student says Exchange with a capital E, like it’s something more than an educational year abroad. Kan hides his interest behind a smirk, and drawls, “Are they ready to apologize for their insults to my mother?”

The Dowager snorts. “Darling boy, there’s no need to be uppity on my account. I’m perfectly willing to shake hands with people who think I’m a tramp.”

“And a tyrant,” Kan reminds her cheerfully. “All right, Exchange students,” he continues, adopting the capital. He smiles widely at the Institute kids. “I accept your application. I’ll see you all on the Congress floor in three weeks’ time.”

The students look at him, stunned by the quick approval; even Sadura, the full-fledged diplomat that he now is, is a little surprised. Also a little suspicious, like he thinks Kan has given in too easily. Kan winks at him.

“Thank you for your earnest advocacy,” Kan dismisses the group politely. “Tasak’s future will be a good one, as long as our youth keep pushing for positive change.”  

“That is very kind, sir,” says Sadura. “On behalf of the exchange program representatives--” and now he says it with a careful lowercase, an educational program and nothing more “--we thank you as well. Students?”

As a group, they nod and say their polite words and leave Kan’s office. Sadura, the last one to go, turns and bows formally.  

“Thank you, Lord Kan,” Sadura says with grave politeness, “for your objectivity and wisdom.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Sadura Noki,” Kan advises him. “Maybe I’m hoping to see you all crash and burn again.”

Diplomat Sadura doesn’t squeak and flee like young Noki did all those years ago. This Sadura straightens from his bow and appraises Kan carefully, pale eyes sharp.

“Sir, I’m not sure you mean that,” he accuses at last -- and then leaves before Kan can defend himself.

(next - part two)

tagging: my list of (1) one @gingerly-writing who loves dialogue and politics and has been my cheerleader even though i’m kind of a shit <3 

[embracehappy]

Don’t Fight It  | Shawn Mendes Imagine

Summary: You are on vacation, visiting a friend, when you accidentally befriended a coffee shop barista who does her best to set you up with her other “friend”

a/n: This is the first fic I’ve written. Sorry it’s so long. I really liked the idea behind it, and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out. Please please please let me know what you think! I am open and accepting to constructive criticism!! But I also really love positive feedback <3

Part 2

Warnings: Swearing, Angst (i think?)

Word count: 3.9k

It was ironic, really: how y’all met. It was pure happen stance. You weren’t even supposed to be there. One night you just got really tired of not being able to see one of her best friends in the whole world. So, you booked a ticket. And that was that. 

The next thing you know, it is four weeks later and you are hopping off a plane. 

“Y/N!!!” You hear Eden S C R E A M as you exit security. You embrace your friend in a hug so tight that you lose your ability breathe for a moment. As you rock back and forth, an old man walks by and mumbles toward you both: “That is true happiness right there, never let it go.”

Wiping the tears forming in your eyes, Eden helps steady yourself as y’all walk towards where Eden had parked. You hadn’t seen Eden in over a year, causing the mild tears of joy.

You had never been so excited to be in a foreign place. You had never even been to Canada, and here you are in Toronto. Eden was lucky. She transferred out of your college after freshman year. It broke her heart to say goodbye to the friend group, but she just really needed to find a school with a better Environmental Science program. So, she went home to Washington DC. She had been working for the last year at her Aunt’s company when she wasn’t in classes. Somehow, she got a promotion, and then another, and then one more, and now she’s in Toronto. (You aren’t even completely sure what she does; she was only a secretary when she was first hired at the company.)

~~ “Are you ready?” Eden asks as she is turning her lock.

“Oh just let me in!” You squeal, excited to start your girls weekend. You push past her into the apartment and quickly notice that her Pinterest boards were not a waste. Eden lives a one bedroom apartment, somewhere in downtown Toronto. It may have been small, but it was gorgeous. It was the perfect mix of vintage and modern. White and sleek, but with tasteful splashes of dark wood and antiques. You are quick to notice the small tree in the corner of the room.

“Well that’s a fake plant” you scoff to your friend.

“Is not!” She fights back.

“You have many things, Eden, but a green thumb is not one!” You say as you walk over and feel it to ensure you are correct. You are, it’s fake.

“Whatever!” She yells, carrying your small carry-on bag into the bedroom. “Is this really all you brought??” Eden yells to you.

“Well, yeah! I’m only staying for four days!!”

~~ Two days have passed. You’ve been enjoying the trip of your life in Toronto with Eden. However, last night got the better of you and you stayed up way too late watching movies. Knowing that it was the one last Netflix original that did y’all in, you were both planning on sleeping in. However, your body had other ideas.

You jolted awake sometime around 9am. You decided to be a little selfish. As much as you love Eden, you wanted to go explore. You were missing your usual morning routine and were desperate to go on a jog. So you decide that you might as well do both, explore and jog.  

Quietly slipping into your leggings and clean sports bra, you are sure not to wake Eden as you grab her house key, along with your wallet and IPhone. You wander over to Eden’s closet. Surely, she has something you can borrow. Due to your light packing, you only brought one sweatshirt. The same sweatshirt that you accidentally ruined last night by spilling ice cream all down the front.

You almost laugh out-loud as you pull a grey sweatshirt off a hanger.

I can’t believe she still owns this!? She was always so obsessed with his music!

You slip the crewneck over your head. Giggling to yourself when you look down and see the “I would date u but ur not shawn mendes” plastered across your chest.

It’s only fitting, you are in Toronto, after all! Usually you would never wear something that would blatantly label you as a tourist, but you’re only here for a short stay. And, it’s not even your sweatshirt!

Eden had been the one to turn you on to Shawn Mendes’ music. She first played you his album when you were studying for finals during first semester. After that, you had to admit, you were a bit addicted to his music. The melodies just had a way of making you move. They gave you a weird feeling somewhere deep inside you that you didn’t know how to explain.

You hadn’t listened to Shawn Mendes’ music in a while. So, deciding you might as well be extra ironic, you chose the SHAWN MENDES playlist on Spotify, hit shuffle, and step out the door.

~~ You ran for about a half hour, though the streets of downtown, before you are quickly realizing that you are lost. You slow your pace and start looking around, thankful you are in Toronto and not Montreal. (Eden had been telling you about a weekend trip she took to Montreal, but it was a disaster because there was a lot more French than she was planning for.) You know you can’t be that far from Eden’s apartment building, simply because you were careful not to go too far. You had purposely gone in circles, running down the same few streets more than once. But, you had gotten just a bit too adventurous on your last round and now you’re standing in an area you don’t recognize.

You start walking. Actually, you start wandering. You are trying to spot that one really tall and pointy tower, knowing if you can find it, you could correct yourself back into the right direction.

You walk for about 5 more minutes before you give up. All you can think about is a coffee shop that you had seen two blocks back. It has been consuming your thoughts because you are quite hungry now. You decide to turn around and walk back to it, feeling like the coffee shop is calling you.

~~ It is 9:45am when you walk into the shop. A very friendly looking red head smiles to you. The shop is empty. It is clear that the morning rush had already come through and now this local was just staying open in an attempt to be nice to any non-regulars.

“Hey hun! Don’t be shy! I promise I won’t bite!” She smiles to you as cautiously walk up to the counter, noticing her nametag reads “Anna”.

“I would like a medium vanilla latte… um, please.”

“Sure thing!” She says as she goes to prepare your drink, flashing you a smile again. “Can I get your name?” She calls to you from behind the machine.

“Y/N!” You say to her. Suddenly realizing that you are now smiling too.

“Y/N, huh. Pretty name!”

She must have recognized your accent: “If you don’t mind, we don’t get a whole lot of Americans through this shop. So, I’m officially declaring you my friend!”

You are taken aback by her forwardness. You are not sure if it’s just her personality or a Canadian thing.

“Oh. Ok!” You respond. “Well, I am officially declaring you my first Canadian friend!” You then explain to her how you had been visiting a friend from college, but were adventuring out on your own this morning.

The two of you really hit it off, becoming basically best friends almost immediately. It must be because you are in a different country, but you have no problem with opening up to the stranger. You even exchange Instagram’s at one point. Sitting at the bar, you discuss your whole life with her. She listens as you tell her about your exes and your family. And then you do the same when she talks about her girlfriend and her family. You are about the same age, so it is easy for y’all to relate to each other stories. You are laughing, about how you both had a family cat named Steven, when you hear the door chime.

“Anna!” you hear a booming voicing behind you call out. The voice is loud, but not intimidating. And vaguely familiar?  He sounds like he could be about yours and Anna’s ages. “Are you actually replacing me! I thought Sunday morning talks were OUR thing!” He says, drawing out the “our” in an unbelievably cute way. You cannot believe you are actually thinking someone’s voice was cute.

Suddenly, you feel his presence leaning up against the counter next to you. The next thing you know, a heavy arm is being rested around your shoulders, pulling you into him.

“Anna! When I said I wanted to meet your girlfriend, I didn’t mean for you to bring her to OUR morning coffee date!”

You saw Anna’s face turn bright tomato red with shock. The arm’s owner must have realized that he was mistaken, as you feel the arm tense and lift up slightly.

“Anna… please tell me this is your girlfriend and not a complete stranger that I just put my arm around…”

Anna responds sheepily: “Well…. Um…. She’s not a stranger… to me…. She my newest friend!”

Anna’s face is no longer red as she is now grinning. “Shawn, meet Y/N!”

Shawn turns to look at you and for the first time you actually look up at him. And all you can see is his jaw line.

Damn.

You can hear Anna begin to speak again: “She’s American! She’s here for the weekend, visiting a friend from college. She’s… like... actually super cool and I need you to be really friendly and open and to not make any judgements okay, Shawn?”

You look back at Anna and see how she is suddenly giving him a frantic look. She’s trying to communicate something to him with her gestures. You look up at him again.

He is staring intensely at you. His eyes raking up and down you, pausing momentarily on your breast. You can’t quite figure out which emotions are hiding behind his eyes. You can’t even figure out what is going on between Anna and him.

And then it hits you.

The sweatshirt. The jawline. Shawn.

Shawn Mendes has his arm around you.

~~ He looks older than you remember him looking. You hadn’t been following his recent activity. So, you guess it makes sense though, for him to look so much older. He is your age, after all. And you definitely don’t look the same from the first time you heard his music.

Shawn’s arm is quickly retracted. It looks like he has chosen to be cautious, that’s how his eyes seem to appear at least.

He stumbles over his words when he speaks to you.  “How did you find my favorite shop?” he says in an accusatory tone. “I’m so careful when I come here. The last thing I need is a superfan to ruin our mornings. I thought I told you to text me, Anna!” Shawn’s attention is now focused on Anna, who is getting very defensive very quickly.

Anna is throwing her arms up and begins raising her voice at him, something about how he needs to trust her and to just stop accusing her new friend of something.

You aren’t really paying attention.

Your head is spinning. You can finally get a good look at him. He is wearing a pink hoody under a jean jacket, black jeans, and a classic pair of black boots. And then your body goes numb and all you can hear is the word “superfan” rotating around in your head. Your vision goes blurry.

You fall off the bar stool.

~~ You’ve passed out. You can’t move or see, but you can hear. You can overhear Anna and Shawn.

“OH SHIT” Anna screams! An “oh my god” falls out of Shawn’s hushed voiced. “HELP HER YOU ASSHOLE”

You can feel a strong hand grabbing your arm and another suddenly on your back. You were being gently rolled to lay on your back.

“I CANT BELIEVE YOU REACTED LIKE THAT” Anna screams again. “Well I’m not going to pick her up while she’s unconscious!” “No! Not that! EARLIER! You dumbass! I didn’t text you because she’s insanely cool and you’re going to like her!” “SHE just WANTS you to like her, Anna! She’s a SUPERFAN!! She’s just trying to get CLOSE to ME! HELL! Maybe even she FAKED passing out! How do I know she hasn’t already tweeted my location to hundreds of followers on her FANACCOUNT--” “—OH MY GOD SHAWN! Did you even she her! Her phone is over HERE on the counter! And She didn’t move a muscle as soon as you wrapped YOUR ARM AROUND HER!”

You suddenly feel your body return to you. As you begin moving, a hush falls over the two.  Next thing you know, you can feel Shawn next to you, trying to coax you out of your fog. Saying gentle things like “That’s it. Take it easy. I’ve got you.” Shawn’s helping you lift your head.

“I only want you to be happy” You hear Anna mumble to him. “You’re not my match maker” He responds, almost inaudible.

~~ As soon as you completely come to, anger floods your body. You were livid.

Yes, you were a fan, but in no way were you a “SUPERFAN” and Shawn should NOT have risen his voice at your new friend.

You sit up. Testing your words: “I… I am not…” You feel confident as your anger is quickly becoming rage.

“I am NOT a SUPERFAN! And HONESTLY…. The FACT that you ASSUMED as much really wants me to REVOKE my status of REGULAR mediocre FAN… WHO had NO IDEA that this is YOUR FAVORITE coffee shop in all of FUCKING TORONTO!! IM just HERE to visit a FRIEND and I HAPPENED to make another FRIEND! IM SORRY we CANT have the SAME FRIENDS, YOUR HIEGHNESS. I didn’t KNOW you OWNED all YOUR favorite SPOTS in Toronto!... YOU are an ASSHOLE! I KNOW how this works! YOU’RE just being KIND TO ME right now because you HAVE TO BE! HEAvon forbid something SHOWS up on the INTERNET about how THE Shawn MENDES treated a fan POORLY! I heard what you SAID!! You think IM SOME CRAZY FAN with a FANACCOUNT and all the SHIT!”

You notice Shawn’s face growing bright red and he is staring at you in bewilderment. Anna is smirking. But you kept firing off:

“I CANT Believe you! All you FAMous people are the same! YOURE ALL STUCK UP ASSHOLES! And to think that your fans actually think you’re WHOLESOME!  WHAT THE FUCK, SHAWN MENDES?!?!”

You finally stop. He is hanging his head low. Anna glances down to you. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, hun.”

“But….. But your sweatshirt…?” Shawn questions timidly.

“It’s my friends FUCKING sweatshirt.” You say with a little less anger in your voice, but still firm. “In fact, I remember when she bought it. I made fun of her for A WEEK about it! I only wore it so that when I got back to her apartment, after my run, we could laugh about it...” you trail off, suddenly realizing that you are sharing way more information than you should with the asshole standing in front of you.

But you couldn’t help it. You had the weird feeling, that usually was caused by his music, currently fluttering about in your stomach. You were angry but you still wanted to talk to him. You decide instead to shut up, ignoring your gut.

Anna is helping you stand now, placing you into a chair at one of the tables. Shawn follows behind her like a sad puppy.

“Okay. You both stay here, eh. I’m going to get Y/N some water.” Anna says before she disappears into the back.

Anna has been gone a lot longer that she should’ve been. You assume this probably has something to do with those last comments you overheard when you were on the ground. Or you think you overheard. They were so quiet and quick at the end that maybe you may have hallucinated them.

You weren’t sure. Because of it, you didn’t know how to continue.

~~ In an attempt to ground yourself, you try reflecting on the current situation:

Okay, so I’m sitting in an empty coffee shop with Shawn Mendes. And I just YELLED at him? And now he’s looking like I just told him his dog died. What the fuck is even happening right now…

A few more seconds pass. You are about to give up waiting for Anna and just leave altogether. You’re really confused and just want to return to Eden’s apartment, when suddenly:

“I’m sorry…”

“What?” You say, shocked.

“I’m sorry.” Shawn says with more confidence. “I didn’t mean you any harm. I just… I need to be careful. I thought I could trust Anna… Er… I can trust Anna. But for a moment there, when I saw you, and then my name on your.. er… your friend’s sweatshirt… I… I panicked.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence. You didn’t know how to respond. You definitely weren’t expecting an asshole celebrity to be apologizing to you today… or any day for that matter.

Must be a Canadian thing.

Shawn looks up. His eyes are a little puffy and you can tell he’s trying not to cry.

Nope. This is a Shawn Mendes thing.

“Um… It’s ok… I totally shouldn’t have snapped at you… I understand why you need to be careful…. I guess…..”

Your gaze meets Shawn’s and he holds for longer than you expect. He seems to be accepting what you said, but still looks very sad.

“NO…no.. It’s totally my fault... I deserved to be yelled at… I treated you like shit. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes are still locked on yours.

“We haven’t even had a proper introduction yet” He says extending his hand.

“um… I’m Shawn” His mouth is curling up a bit at the corners, flashing you a bashful smile. His other hand is rubbing the back of his neck and for a moment his eyes glance to the ground. And you think you see him beginning to blush.

“Y/N” you say with a bit more confidence than he, but the lack of air in your lungs takes you by surprise. You can feel yourself blushing with embracement.

~~ Anna has returned with 3 waters. She places them down on the table and then walks over to the coffee shop’s door. Flipping the open sign to “closed” and locking the door. When she walks back, she sees the confused look on your face because she quickly shoots out: “I always close up when Shawn comes in… ya know… To give him… privacy.. from fans…”

Shawn looks up to her like he’s about to say something, but then everyone’s attention is quickly taken to the counter, where you phone is vibrating. Anna runs over and grabs it, running it back to you.

“It’s Eden, hun.”

You answer the phone to a frantic Eden: “OH my god!! Why didn’t you answer! I’ve called you three times already! I saw you weren’t here and I figured you went on a run, but then you didn’t answer and I assumed the worst!--”

You cut her off: “Eden! OMG Eden! Breathe! I’m fine! I’m in a coffee shop! I didn’t notice my phone going off because I fainted--”

“--OMG You fainted Why?? Are you Ok-”

“Yes, Eden. I’m fine. I just fainted because…” You glance up and see Shawn and Anna staring at you. Shawn is giving you an interesting look. Almost like he’s studying you.  Your eyes linger on his briefly, “because… well… I’ll tell you about it later. It’s not important. Anyway, what are we doing today... I leave on Monday…”

“How about you come back to my apartment and we can discuss that. I want to make sure you’re feeling ok?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll come back. But I didn’t faint because I don’t feel well… I fainted because I… I’ll explain it later…” you say as you stand up. Blood rushes to your head and you slump back down into your seat. “Actually… maybe you can come pick me up… I’m.. I’m at…” you glance up towards Anna to get the name of the coffee shop, but instead hear Shawn speak up: “No… I’ll take you… tell your friend.”

You try to cover the mic on your phone and pull it from your face. “No. You don’t have too. Eden can come get me. Really. I don’t want to be an inconvenience. Seriously it’s--”

“--NO. I made you faint. It won’t be an inconvenience it’s literally the least I can do… please?”

You feel the blood in your head and you can’t seem to find the will to fight Shawn. “Fine, I guess.” You to say to him, shaking your head in annoyance.  

Back on the phone with Eden: “Actually, I got a ride. I’ll be back at you place soon, okay?

But Eden is quick to catch on, clearly hearing everything you and Shawn had said: “Woah, woah, woah… First of all, if you’re not okay, I should be the one picking you up. You’re my guest! And also: Who MADE you faint? That’s… like…. Not ok? Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Eden, I swear I’m fine.”

“Since when did Y/N decide to accept rides from strangers? You’re clearly not yourself… you would never get into a car with someone you don’t trust! And it takes you FOREVErrrrr to trust anybody!”

“Eden it’ll be fine. I’m fine. I definitely think that the person I’m about to get a ride with is trustworthy. And I know his friend. She’s cool. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay fine, whatever. But if I have to explain to your mom why you went missing in Canada, you better believe that I’ll kill you, even if you are already dead.”

“Oh my gosh, Eden. I’ll be fine.”

“Send me your location. So, I can track you. Just to be safe.”

“Yes Ma’am. See ya soon.” You say jokingly as you hang up.

You quickly share your location with Eden.

God bless IPhones.

You look back up at Shawn and Anna. Shawn hasn’t taken his eyes off you. But for some reason it doesn’t feel creepy.

Anna is looking very pleased.

“Great! So you have a ride back. I’m glad. You’ll be safe. Shawn’s a really great driver.” Anna casually says as she stands from the table and shoots another look to Shawn.

Shawn is now standing and putting his arm around your waist, helping you to your feet.

“Oh, no I can do it.” You protest. But your comment only makes Shawn tighten his grip.

“Don’t fight it, hun!” Anna calls back to you. She has already begun bouncing towards the back of the coffee shop.

You think about what she said. Not quite certain what she was referring to with “it”. As Shawn and you move closer to the door. You are quickly considering that you and Shawn are about to be in a car alone, together….

“Don’t fight it, hun!”

[faithfulnews]

Enroute Romania-bound

For Manda Pidgeon, the journey to bring the hope of Jesus to Rroma people in Romania began quite unexpectedly in 2006 on a mission trip to Papua New Guinea, when she audibly heard God speak the word Romania.

‘I’d been praying God would use me for his purposes, but until this time, I didn’t know the direction he would lead me. When this happened, I didn’t even know Romania was a country! I kept the experience to myself and continued to pray.’

The following day, God placed another piece in the puzzle.

‘My half of our team departed Milne Bay Province to reconnect with the rest of our group in Port Moresby. Upon arriving, I hadn’t yet jumped out of the back of the ute when a girl from the other half of our group ran up to meet us.’

“Manda!” she said. “I’ve been praying about this, and I think you’d be good in the orphanages in Romania.”

“So, it’s a place then?” Manda asked.

She is the first to laugh about just how far she’s come by trusting God to bring about his purposes in her life. Thirteen years later, Manda, her husband, Josh, and their daughter, Isla, are in the exact sweet spot God always intended for them in this time of their lives. They are now moving to Romania to follow the desire God’s placed in their hearts.

God began preparing Josh’s heart to care about Romanian people and culture before he’d met Manda. But when the couple discovered God had given them both this common interest, they felt God had not only blessed each of them in being united with the other, but also for a future of working together for his purposes.

Manda and Josh Pidgeon, with daughter, Isla

God has prepared Manda in his time, slowly helping her place each puzzle piece as he revealed it, so that Manda and Josh are now ready to be vessels, pouring out God’s love onto Rroma communities; Romania’s most isolated and misunderstood people.

With a background in childcare, Manda’s heart was initially captured by the need to bring God’s love to children in Romania’s orphanages. She learned about orphan numbers so high that children were being denied the simple gesture of regular human touch – with tragically detrimental consequences on their development. However, while Manda knew she could step into this role and felt God was patiently continuing to bring Romania into sharper focus, she lacked certainty about making such a big decision to go.

“OK, God,” Manda said. “I think I really need you to convince me that you want me to go. If you want me to go, I’ll go, even if I don’t yet know what you want me to do there.”

Soon after, a church friend recommended a book to Manda for her encouragement. But when Manda popped into Koorong after work to buy it, was disappointed to hear it was out of print. Thinking she ought to also start investigating the Romanian language, Manda asked if they stocked Romanian Bibles. Again, the cashier broke the sad news that she would have to source one elsewhere.

A little dejected, Manda thanked the cashier anyway and turned to leave.

“Excuse me,” said a lady over Manda’s left shoulder. “This might be a coincidence, but my husband and I work with a Romanian church in Spain. We’re returning from home assignment on Monday. Would you like us to send you a Romanian/English bible when we get back?”

“Um, sure, that would be great, thank you!”

Manda gratefully exchanged details with the lady and explained why she was enquiring about Romanian bibles.

Then Manda noticed a man hovering nearby her right side. He said something out loud in another language, but Manda wasn’t sure if he’d been talking to her. There was no one else around so she bravely decided to check.

“Sorry, excuse me?” she said.

“It means ‘God Bless You’ in Romanian,” he said.

“Oh, so you’re Romanian?”

“No, I’m Brazilian. But my wife’s parents are missionaries in Romania. Just a minute, I’ll get her.”

The man returned with his wife and son. How strange it felt, that there were now five people standing at the counter, none of them Romanian, but all with a shared connection of God’s heart to bring the hope of the gospel message to Romanian people.

“OK God!” Manda said. “I asked for confirmation. I think you’ve made it clear. I’ll go.”

Manda discovered online that International Teams were already present in Romania. She applied and was accepted as an International Teams Australia worker to serve as a member of the team in Timisoara. On 20th May 2008, she landed in Timisoara, Romania, ready to do God’s work.

Former communist leader, Ceausescu’s ideology had left a devastating legacy on the country. During his dictatorship, he’d instructed the population to have as many children as possible to create an army for himself. Sadly, whilst over 100,000 babies were born, there now remains almost an entire generation of people with varying disabilities and trauma because of the severe lack of care, love and value placed on them since birth.

For the next two and a half years, Manda obediently brought love to abandoned babies, including those who had developed physical and mental disabilities due to a lack of stimulation and interaction. She helped bring wellbeing and therapy for teenagers and young adults living with disabilities in one of Romania’s many institutions.

Manda participated in running English camps for Romania and Serbia’s youth. Her first real exposure to Rroma people was during such a camp in southern Serbia. She was intrigued by how different their community structure was. In Australia, children are brought to a central location for an experience run by a specialist group. Here, the lack of trust meant that opportunities had to be brought to the Rroma, so the whole community had awareness and a level of control over what outsiders introduced.

The Rroma community felt foreign to Manda and was overwhelming at first. Compounded by warnings from others that she was entering Gypsy communities and not to take anything of value lest it be stolen, Manda was initially uncomfortable. But God soon opened her eyes to the love he had for the youth who attended the workshops.

“It very quickly became apparent these youth presented no threat. They wanted love like any child does. They didn’t want what was in my pockets, they wanted to know that they were of value, that they had worth and that they could belong in some form or other. When we presented the gospel to them, several of them came to Christ because they realised you can be part of God’s family without changing your nationality or personality; that a Rroma person can become a Christian without becoming a western Christian.”

So it was that Manda’s passion for bringing the hope of Jesus to the Rroma people was sparked. God continued to grow Manda’s heart for the Rroma. She returned to Australia, attended Sydney Missionary Bible College (SMBC) and prepared herself for further time on the mission field.

There are an estimated 12 million Rroma living across Europe, with up to 3 million of those in Romania. Exact numbers remain a mystery for these almost-invisible people, many of whom are born at home and have no official identifying paperwork, and therefore no access to education, employment, health care and other things we take for granted.

But Manda also learned there were already many Christian workers around Romania seeking to reach the Rroma across a broad range of ministries. Some had been there for thirty or more years, had seen the country go through communism and the struggles that ensued thereafter. Their long-term experience, by God’s grace, led to some wonderfully effective ministries.

However, there was nothing in place for wisdom gained through service to be shared, or for cooperation to be promoted. Although every Christian worker Manda learned about served with a humble heart and earnest desire to reap fruit for God’s Kingdom, the isolated nature in which many worked often hampered their effectiveness and increased the difficulty of their ministry.

In one village, a young couple started an after-school program for the local Rroma children, but lacked the resources and support needed to effectively bring God’s love to the children and their families. Manda also became aware of a project begun by Christian workers to translate the Gospel of John into one of the Rromani dialects. They didn’t know their hard work was a duplicate of work already in progress by another missionary group in another part of the country. Manda recognised that Christian workers faced unique challenges in working with Rroma communities, created by hundreds of years of stigmatisation and marginalisation from mainstream society.

Thus, in 2014, God inspired Manda’s vision to create the Rroma-Workers Network (RWN) to Encourage, Equip and Empower Rroma workers to reach Rroma communities with the gospel. With support, guidance and facilitation from International Teams Australia, the RWN purpose crystallised to become a platform through which Rroma workers could access tools, knowledge and resources already available, seek support and offer it to others. It would build bridges between needs and the means to fulfil them.

Fellow Christian Rroma Workers gather in support of one another at the 2018 RWN conference.

The last four years have seen Manda and Josh steadily build a life together and strengthen the outworking of the RWN vision. With Josh’s support, Manda continued to build the RWN website. In 2016, she ran the first biennial RWN conference; so workers connected through the RWN could meet and encourage one another, enjoy respite from the daily demands of their ministries, learn and be equipped to return to their ministries with enthusiasm and renewed purpose.

In 2018, with the help of a team working in Romania, the RWN website was launched. Existing and future Christian workers across Romania could now also connect online to network, share ideas and resources, ask questions, inspire others and be inspired.

With their combined skills in administration, organisation and technical development, Manda and Josh continue to listen to God’s leading and work hard on developing the RWN, the fruits of which are already abundant. Workers discouraged in their ministries have been inspired to try something new by learning other pathways to success. They are encouraged to persevere when they realise problems they face are common to working with many different Rroma communities, not just their own. Manda and Josh are pleased to already see challenging burdens lessen and workers gain a better work/family life balance. Ultimately, the greatest encouragement is to see that Rroma people are receiving the hope of Jesus through Christian ministry.

Now, from their base in Ramnicu Valcea, Romania, Manda and Josh, with their daughter, Isla, will continue to facilitate the RWN and provide more effective on-the-ground support for workers. Over the last year they’ve raised awareness of their ministry and feel the blessing of God on their intentions as God has provided many to partner with them in prayer and financial support.

If you would like to help Manda and Josh, they’d love you to visit iteams.org.au/pidgeonjm to join their prayer community and/or to pledge a regular monthly donation to enable this much-needed ministry. Email connect@iteams.org.au if you’d like more information on other ways to donate.

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