#Math sketchpad

[4linos]

when the past knocks.

seo changbin x f!reader, kim seungmin x f!reader

synopsis: you left to protect your son and yourself. but healing gets complicated when old ghosts return… and one of them still makes you laugh.

warnings: angst, infidelity, emotional distress, mild swearing, jealousy, unresolved feelings, hurt/comfort.

wc: 12,629

The air in your childhood bedroom never really changed. It still smelled faintly like old wood, laundry detergent, and whatever fabric softener your mom used, floral, a little powdery, like a scent from another decade. You’d hoped it might feel comforting after everything, but all it did was remind you that you didn’t belong here anymore. Not really. You weren’t a child anymore. You weren’t a daughter. Not just that. You were a mother. A wife, sort of. Or maybe just someone who used to be married. The line was blurry. The divorce papers were still unsigned. You hadn’t touched them since the day you left Seungmin.

Roan had adjusted better than you thought he would, not that that said much. He didn’t throw tantrums, didn’t cry at night or beg to go back. But you saw the way he lingered by the front window, how he never said Seungmin’s name anymore but would still quietly tuck the stuffed lion his dad gave him beside his pillow every night. He didn’t talk about his old friends, or his old school, or the home you left behind. He just colored a lot. Long, quiet afternoons bent over crayons and sketchpads, like he was trying to give shape to things he didn’t have the words for yet.

Your parents didn’t ask too many questions. They welcomed you back like it was just temporary. Like it was a little break while you and Seungmin sorted things out. Like it wasn’t the wreckage of everything you’d been holding together for too long. You let them believe it. Because explaining would mean exposing yourself, and you didn’t have the strength for that yet.

“Just a trial separation,” your mom had said that first night. “Sometimes space is good. Men panic when things get hard. But if he really loves you—”

“He cheated,” you’d wanted to scream. “He cheated and then told me he still loved me. Like that meant anything. Like love excuses betrayal.”

But you’d just nodded. Quiet. Hollowed out. You let her hug you and serve you leftover bulgogi and rice like nothing was broken.

It was three days later that the note came home in Roan’s backpack. Written in soft cursive with a smiley face beside your name. “Looking forward to meeting you at Parent-Teacher Night!” It made your stomach sink. You didn’t want to go. You weren’t ready to face small talk with strangers, other parents with their lives in order, smiling faces and matching wedding rings. You didn’t want to sit through a slideshow about math curriculum while pretending your life hadn’t just imploded.

But Roan was excited. He showed you which table he sat at. He told you that his teacher, Ms. Lee, was “super nice” and let them choose from the “big crayon bucket” on Fridays if they finished their reading.

So you went.

Your mom helped you pick an outfit. Something presentable. Not too formal, not too casual. You ended up in dark jeans and a beige cardigan over a clean white tee. Simple. Safe. The kind of outfit that said, “I’m doing fine.” Even though you weren’t.

The classroom smelled like floor polish and old books. The kind of smell that never really left these places. Parents were already filing in, chatting in little groups. Some you vaguely recognized from your own time here. Faces that looked older now, slightly more worn.

Roan was already tugging at your hand, dragging you to the back of the room where the kids were gathered, coloring and playing with puzzles. You ruffled his hair, kissed his forehead, told him you’d be right over there if he needed you. He nodded, too busy choosing crayons to really listen.

You sat down. Alone. The rows of chairs were filled with clusters of couples, some laughing together, others nudging each other as the principal began to talk. You were trying to pay attention. Something about volunteers. Fundraisers. A school play. You couldn’t focus. Your hand moved unconsciously, rubbing the skin between your thumb and forefinger. A nervous tick you hadn’t realized had come back.

“You still do that thing with your hand when you’re not listening.”

The voice beside you was soft. Familiar.

You froze. Your fingers stopped moving.

Slowly, you turned.

He looked different. Older, definitely. His hair was shorter, the lines around his eyes deeper. He looked tired, but in that way people who carry grief tend to look. Like something had settled into his bones and refused to leave. But he was still unmistakably him.

“Changbin?”

He smiled, lopsided. “Hey.”

Your heart did something strange. Twisted, maybe. Or maybe it just broke a little more.

He looked at you for a second longer than polite. His eyes dropped to your hands, still frozen in your lap. Then up to your face again.

“I thought that was you earlier,” he said. “Wasn’t sure if I should say anything.”

You swallowed, found your voice. “What… what are you doing here?”

He jerked his thumb toward the group of kids in the back. “Yuna. My daughter. Seven. Same class as your son, Roan, Right?”

You blinked and nodded. “Your daughter?”

“Yeah.”

You processed that slowly. Looked toward the coloring table. You hadn’t noticed her before, but now that you knew, her dark eyes, the way her nose scrunched up when she concentrated, it made sense. She was beautiful. She looked like him.

“She’s adorable,” you murmured.

“Thanks.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Her mom picked the name.”

You looked at him again. Hesitated. Asked before you could stop yourself: “Your partner…?”

His expression didn’t falter. Just grew heavier.

“She passed away. Last year.”

The words hit like a quiet blow. Not sharp. Just… devastating in a way that took the air out of your lungs.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quietly.

He nodded once, like he’d heard it too many times to react anymore.

There was silence. Not awkward, but full. Heavy. Weighted by history you both hadn’t touched in over a decade.

He looked over at you. “What about you? Are you married…?”

But before he could finish, the teacher called your name. “Mrs. Kim? Roan’s mom?”

You stood too quickly. “I—yeah. That’s me.”

Changbin looked like he wanted to say more. You didn’t give him the chance. You stepped away, fast, and walked toward the front of the room where the teacher was smiling too brightly, talking about reading levels and handwriting improvement, and all you could think about was the fact that Changbin had been sitting beside you. That his wife passed away. That he had a daughter. That your son and his went to school together. That the past had just reinserted itself into your present like it had never left.

You answered the teacher’s questions. Nodded at the right times. Smiled when prompted. But it wasn’t real. None of it felt real.

When the meeting ended, the parents filtered out. Some lingered, chatting. You tried to leave quietly, but Changbin caught you by the exit.

“Hey,” he said, stepping in front of you. “Sorry if that was weird.”

You shook your head. “No. It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting—”

“Me?”

You hesitated. “Any of this.”

He nodded. Looked down at his shoes for a second, then back up. “It’s weird being back here.”

“You moved back?”

“Few months ago. My parents are helping out with Yuna. I couldn’t do it alone anymore.”

You nodded. You understood that. In your own way, you were doing the same.

He hesitated. “So… are you okay?”

You wanted to lie. To say yes. But your voice cracked. Just barely.

“No,” you said, and that one word felt like a floodgate breaking.

He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t push. Just looked at you like he saw right through all the walls you were barely holding up.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said softly. “But if you ever want to… I’m around.”

You nodded. Bit your lip. Blinked fast.

Roan came up then, holding your hand. “Can we go home now?”

You ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go.”

Changbin smiled at Roan. “See you at school, buddy.”

Roan tilted his head. “Who’s that?”

You paused. “Just… an old friend.”

Roan nodded, accepting that. You started walking away. Changbin didn’t follow. But you could feel his gaze on your back all the way to the parking lot.

When you got home, your mom was waiting up.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Fine.”

She gave you a long look. “You sure?”

You nodded. Roan ran past you toward his makeshift bedroom that was once the guest room. Your mom smiled after him.

“Seungmin called earlier,” she said casually. “Said he was thinking of coming by this weekend.”

You froze. “Did he say why?”

She shrugged. “Said he misses you both. Wants to talk.”

You didn’t answer. You just went upstairs. You didn’t have the energy to tell her not to get her hopes up.

Later that night, when the house was quiet, you sat on your old bed, the divorce papers in your lap. Blank. Still unsigned.

You didn’t cry.

You just sat there, staring at them, while outside, the town you once left behind breathed quietly in the dark. Somewhere across it, Changbin was probably doing the same thing, navigating the ruins of what used to be, trying to find some kind of shape to rebuild from.

But you weren’t rebuilding. Not yet. You were just surviving.

And that had to be enough for now.

-

It had been a rough morning.

You barely slept the night before. Tossed and turned in the narrow bed, the blankets tangled around your legs, heart heavy in your chest like a rock that refused to dissolve. The silence of your parents’ house wasn’t comforting, it was deafening. And knowing that Seungmin might come by, might try to see you, that turned every breath into a burden. You didn’t want to see him. Not in this house, not in your childhood bedroom, not where everything already felt too small, too loud, too exposed.

You didn’t want to see him because you couldn’t trust yourself not to crack. Not in front of Roan. Not in front of your parents. Not when every part of you was still raw and bleeding.

And when you finally did fall asleep, maybe an hour or two at most, it was like sinking into darkness with your fists clenched.

You were pulled out of it by a light nudge at your arm. You stirred slowly, bleary-eyed, your first instinct assuming it was Roan, coming in to tell you he was ready for school.

But then you heard it, that voice.

Soft. Familiar. Too gentle.

“Hey,” he whispered, almost lovingly. “Baby, wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open like something inside you had been shocked awake. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t your imagination.

It was Seungmin.

You jerked upright, heart hammering as you blinked the sleep from your eyes and looked at him, standing there in the pale morning light, like he had every right to be in this room, like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. His voice, the way he said your name, the way his fingers had brushed your arm, had sounded too much like before. Before everything.

Before he’d shattered you.

You opened your mouth to curse him, maybe. To scream, to demand why the hell he thought it was okay to come into this room, to look at you like nothing had changed.

But your mother’s voice came from the doorway before you could say a word.

“Oh good, you’re up!” she said, chipper, unbothered. “Look who’s here!”

Like it was a surprise. Like it was a gift.

You could’ve told her to leave. You could’ve asked for privacy.

But then you heard it. Roan’s voice. A sudden, thrilled cry from down the hallway.

“Dad?!”

You heard the thump of feet running on hardwood before Roan threw himself into Seungmin’s arms.

You watched it happen. You watched your son’s arms wrap tightly around his father’s neck, his face buried into his shoulder like he hadn’t slept in weeks without that exact kind of comfort.

“I missed you!” Roan mumbled against his chest, holding on like he never wanted to let go.

Seungmin was grinning, holding him close, swaying just a little, as if everything was fine.

“I missed you too, buddy,” he murmured, voice soft.

You felt your throat tighten. This was why it was so hard. This, the joy in your son’s voice, the love in his eyes, the complete adoration for a man who didn’t deserve either of you anymore. You couldn’t take that away from Roan. You wouldn’t. But it made your chest ache in that sick, hollow way, the ache of watching your own pain become invisible to the people you loved the most.

“Why don’t you go get ready for school?” you managed to say to Roan, gently. Carefully. “We’re leaving soon.”

Roan pulled back, nodded, and turned but not before Seungmin crouched down and said, “I’ll take you with Mom, okay? I’ll drive.”

Your heart skipped, something twisting deep in your stomach.

And of course, your mother jumped in again from the hallway. “That’s a great idea! The three of you. Just like before. You need this time. I’ll go finish breakfast. You two talk.”

Then she was gone.

You stood there in silence as Roan padded off, humming to himself, oblivious to the storm behind him.

Then it was just you and Seungmin.

You stood up slowly to close the door, your movements stiff, every muscle tense. He took a step forward, arms already open like he could hold you and fix everything with the same touch he once used to make you laugh, to calm you down, to convince you you were safe.

You stepped back. Immediately. Sharply.

His arms dropped.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked, your voice flat, brittle.

He sighed, like you were being difficult. “What, are you still on this?”

You blinked. Your mouth dropped open just slightly.

“Still on this,” you echoed, voice low. “You cheated on me.”

“It was a mistake,” he said quickly, as if that word made it smaller. “You left. You packed up and left, you took Roan—”

“I took him away from you?” you snapped. “You’re the one who ruined everything!”

His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re being dramatic. You didn’t even let us work through it.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Work through what? You slept with someone else. You lied to me. Repeatedly. And now you’re standing here, in my parents’ house, acting like I’m the problem because I won’t let you hug me?”

His voice lowered, sharper now. “You ripped our son away from his home. His school. His routine. You think that didn’t hurt him?”

You faltered because he was right, in some twisted way. Roan was hurting. You saw it in the quiet moments. In the way he didn’t ask about friends. In how he always looked to you first, like he was afraid something might shift again.

But you didn’t do that. Seungmin did. You left because you had to. Because staying meant breaking completely.

He reached for your hand. Gently. Like he always used to. Like those early years, before everything got heavy.

But you didn’t realize what he was doing until he stopped, eyes flicking down.

“You’re not wearing your ring.”

You pulled your hand back, slowly. “Of course I’m not.”

The silence between you was cold now. Thicker.

He didn’t let go of it, though, the guilt, the insinuation. “You think you’re the only one in pain?” he said softly. “You think I didn’t stay up every night after you left, thinking about Roan, about you, about what I—what we—could’ve fixed?”

“You should’ve thought about that before you started sleeping with your coworker,” you snapped. “Before you made me think I was going crazy. Before you stood in our kitchen and told me you still loved me after everything.”

He stepped back, but only slightly. “Because I do. I always have.”

The door knocked lightly. Your mother’s voice followed: “Breakfast’s ready! Seungmin, you’re welcome to stay, of course. Even a few days, if you want!”

Your heart seized.

You turned toward the door, ready to open it, to tell her no. That it was a terrible idea. That she didn’t know the truth, any of it.

But before you could say anything, Seungmin looked at you with that familiar, quiet smile. The one that used to charm your parents, used to make you feel like the most cherished person in the room.

“I’d love to,” he said loud enough for her to hear. “Let me just talk to my office. I can work remote for a bit.”

You could see it already, your mom beaming. Roan cheering. The quiet assumption that this was the beginning of a fix, not the deepening of the fracture.

Your fists clenched at your sides.

He was doing it again, weaving his way back in, without apology. Without accountability.

You stared at him, your voice caught somewhere between rage and heartbreak.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice shaking. “You don’t get to just… move in and pretend we’re fine.”

He tilted his head. “But we could be. Eventually.”

And just like that, the cracks inside you deepened.

Because part of you wanted to believe it. Wanted to reach out and rewind time.

But another part, the part that remembered the nights you cried in silence, the lies, the hollow apologies, knew better.

The door creaked slightly, your mom’s voice warm and hopeful again: “Come eat before it gets cold!”

Seungmin brushed past you, opened the door, like he belonged there.

And you stood alone in your childhood bedroom, heart in pieces, knowing that the worst kind of betrayal wasn’t the one that came from an enemy.

It was the one that came wearing your husband’s smile.

Breakfast was unbearable.

Not because of the food, your mom, as always, had made more than enough: golden pancakes with just the right crisp on the edges, scrambled eggs, a fresh fruit bowl, and toast she always left slightly burnt because she knew your dad liked it that way. Everything smelled like comfort. Like childhood. Like home.

But the weight in the room made it all feel distant. Like you were watching a scene you didn’t belong in anymore.

Roan, on the other hand, was glowing.

He talked nonstop, bouncing in his seat as he told Seungmin every little detail about his new school from how his new teacher smiled a lot and had a frog-shaped pencil case, to how another kid in class had Pokémon stickers, to how he was trying to memorize the name of every student even if he couldn’t remember which of the twins was Ava and which was Emma.

“Ms. Lee said we might get to do a science experiment next week,” Roan grinned, syrup on the corner of his mouth. “And she said I’m a really good reader!”

Seungmin was nodding along, eyes bright with pride, one hand gently ruffling Roan’s hair.

“That’s my smart boy,” he said, voice warm. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart tightened. Not at the compliment, but at how seamless it was for him to just be here. At your kitchen table, in this house, pretending like he belonged again. Like he hadn’t destroyed something precious and just decided he could waltz back in and act like the glue was already drying.

Your parents were eating it up.

“I thought you were going to visit this weekend,” your mom said suddenly, taking a sip of coffee and glancing at Seungmin with a smile that felt far too affectionate. “What brought you down early?”

You didn’t even try to hide the way you rolled your eyes just a small, weary gesture, hoping no one would notice. But of course, Seungmin did.

He set his fork down gently and leaned back, giving the most concerned sigh he could muster. It was so calculated it made your skin crawl.

“She hasn’t been answering my texts,” he said, voice low. “Not about Roan. Not about… anything, really. I couldn’t sleep. I was worried something had happened. So I just got in the car and drove.”

You scoffed softly into your mug, shaking your head. Worried.

Your mother gasped like it was a scene out of a drama.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “That’s so romantic.”

You looked at her, stunned. But she was already turning to your father, eyes sparkling.

“Isn’t that romantic? Driving all this way, just to check on her? That’s love, right there.”

You felt your stomach twist.

“It’s like I always say,” she continued, voice rising with that hopeful little lilt she used when she was narrating the story she wanted to believe. “Every couple goes through hard moments. That’s what makes a marriage strong, weathering the storms together. Don’t you think, honey?”

Your father nodded solemnly, like he was offering some sage wisdom. “I’m just glad you’re here, Seungmin.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin said quietly, giving your dad a respectful smile. “And thank you, really, for breakfast. It’s… it’s good to be here.”

You didn’t miss the glance he threw your way as he said it.

Like he was laying it on, just enough to keep the illusion going.

You clenched your jaw, pushing your barely touched plate a little to the side.

You’d had enough.

Roan was still mid-sentence, telling Seungmin about how there was a garden outside his classroom and the teacher let them pick mint leaves to smell, when you stood abruptly, your chair scraping back against the floor.

“You’re going to be late, Ro,” you said, already walking around the table. “Get your stuff. Shoes, backpack. Let’s go.”

Your voice was firm. Not sharp, but final. The kind of tone Roan knew meant not to argue.

“Okay!” he said, popping the last strawberry into his mouth before hopping off the chair.

Seungmin stood as well, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair, still holding that calm, casual air like he wasn’t carefully engineering a performance.

“I’ll be in the car,” he said, smiling at your parents. “Thanks again for everything. I’ll be back after drop-off,”

You froze.

You wanted to say no. To say he wouldn’t be. To explain that your mother’s hospitality wasn’t a free pass for him to pretend the last weeks of your life hadn’t just collapsed in on themselves.

But you felt your mom’s hand on your shoulder as she passed you to start clearing plates, and you couldn’t.

You didn’t have the energy.

So instead, you just walked. Quietly. Past your father still sipping coffee. Past Seungmin, who followed behind you like nothing was wrong.

Out of the room. Out of the comfort. Into the chill of a mid-morning that felt far too bright for how heavy you were inside.

-

By the time Roan had his shoes on and his little arms were shrugging into his backpack, Seungmin was already in the driver’s seat of the car, fiddling with the mirror like this was his routine. Like you were just an accessory to it all.

You opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, not looking at him.

Roan climbed into the back and buckled himself in, already humming some melody he’d picked up from a show. Oblivious. Happy.

You hated how hard that made everything.

Seungmin started the car. Silence sat between you like an unwanted guest.

You stared out the window, jaw tight, hand fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve the way you always did when you were overwhelmed.

“You still do that,” Seungmin said softly, glancing at you. “That little fidget thing with your sleeve.”

You didn’t respond.

He let out a soft breath and turned his eyes back to the road.

“I just want to talk,” he said, voice lower now, just for you. “After we drop him off. Just… please.”

You still didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, you weren’t sure you had anything left to say.

And yet, you knew as the school building came into view, as Roan waved goodbye and ran up the steps that you'd be forced to speak to him.

And you'd have to face the wreckage of everything he'd broken… with no one left to protect you from it.

-

The ride back from Roan’s school was quieter than the one there.

Not in the peaceful, comfortable way quiet sometimes is but heavy, thick, like the air had turned to smoke. You kept your eyes on the road ahead, even though Seungmin was the one driving. You didn’t speak. You didn’t look at him.

And he didn’t say anything at first either. Like he was waiting, testing how long he could sit in your silence before cracking it open.

The school faded behind you. The morning light had warmed into late morning, hazy and humid, the trees lining the side streets full of buzzing cicadas. You wanted to disappear into the sound. Dissolve.

When he finally spoke, his voice was too soft. Too rehearsed.

“You’re really going to let everything go, just like that?”

You didn’t respond. Your gaze stayed fixed out the window, watching a woman walk her dog past a florist you used to visit with your mom. Everything about this place was stitched into your childhood, and now it felt like a cage.

“You’re not even going to try?” Seungmin said again, more firmly this time. “After everything we’ve built together?”

That made you laugh dry and bitter.

“Built?” you muttered. “We didn’t build anything. You bulldozed it.”

He gripped the wheel tighter. You could see the white of his knuckles.

“Come on,” he said, glancing at you. “Don’t let all these years just go to waste because of this—this thing.”

You turned slowly. Looked at him. Really looked at him.

“This thing?” you repeated, voice dangerously low. “You mean you sleeping with someone else?”

His jaw clenched. “You always twist things—”

“I always—?”

“Roan’s hurting,” he cut in. “And you don’t even see it. You moved him two hours away from home. From me. From everything he knows. And for what? A fight?”

Your eyes widened. Your mouth opened, then shut, then opened again because you were too stunned to even choose the right reaction.

“It wasn’t a fight, Seungmin. You cheated. You lied. You broke every ounce of trust I gave you, and now you’re sitting here calling it a fight?”

He turned into your parents’ driveway too fast, jerking the car slightly. His voice raised for the first time, sharp and impatient.

“Get over it already! You’re acting like I murdered someone!”

You stared at him, breathing hard, heart beating like a drum in your throat.

“You should’ve never come back.”

Your voice wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Dead cold.

You got out of the car before he could say anything else.

You didn’t slam the door. You didn’t scream. You just walked back into the house like you’d walked into a burning building because at least then you could pretend the smoke choking you was from fire and not from everything else he’d left behind.

-

You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day.

Not when you passed in the hallway. Not when Roan asked the three of you to play Uno together and you politely declined. Not when your mother insisted on putting Seungmin’s favorite tea in front of him at dinner and asked, with a too-bright smile, how he liked working at the firm now.

You didn’t speak when your father nodded along like a quiet referee, reading the air and choosing silence. You didn’t speak when Roan leaned on his father’s shoulder while watching cartoons, clearly desperate for things to feel normal again.

You only spoke to Roan. And even then, your voice was gentler than it usually was, like you were trying not to let any bitterness bleed through. You didn’t want him to absorb it. He was seven. He deserved peace. He didn’t ask for any of this.

The sun went down slow, casting a warm gold through your old bedroom window. You’d cleaned the space up a little, stacked a few of your old books on the nightstand, put a photo of Roan in a small frame. You were brushing your hair in front of the vanity, watching the soft reflection of yourself, looking more exhausted than you’d ever allowed yourself to admit.

You didn’t hear her at first.

Your mother’s knock was light, almost timid, as if sensing the tension even through the closed door. She was standing there in her robe, a small stack of folded blankets cradled against her chest, her eyes warm.

“Is Roan asleep?” she asked, already stepping halfway into the room.

Seungmin, who had been sitting silently on the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone answered first.

“Just checked on him. Out like a light.”

Your mother beamed. “He looked so happy today. I think seeing you really lifted his mood,” she said, directing the comment at Seungmin.

You rolled your eyes and looked back at your reflection, brushing slowly, carefully, ignoring them.

“I brought a few extra blankets,” your mom said, walking over to the foot of the bed. “It’s supposed to get cold tonight.”

You didn’t answer. Just kept brushing.

But then she added, breezily, “Thought you two might want them, since you’ll be sharing the bed tonight.”

The brush stilled in your hand.

Your reflection didn’t blink.

You turned your head slightly, unsure if you heard her correctly. “What?”

“Just like old times,” she went on, either not noticing your reaction or choosing to ignore it. “The bed’s plenty big. I know it’s been a hard few weeks, but maybe some closeness would help.”

You opened your mouth to speak to correct her, to set the record straight, but Seungmin spoke first.

“Thank you,” he said smoothly, before you could even draw breath. “That’s really kind of you.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. You turned, eyes burning into him.

Your mother just smiled. “Of course, honey. Goodnight, both of you.”

She left. Just like that. Blankets at the foot of the bed, hopeful energy lingering in the air like cheap perfume.

The door clicked softly behind her.

You turned to him. “Why the hell would you say yes to that?”

Seungmin shrugged, like it was nothing. “I didn’t want to make it weird.”

You laughed once, sharp and humorless. “It’s already weird, Seungmin.”

He didn’t answer. Just pulled one of the blankets over his lap and leaned back against the headboard, like he hadn’t just signed himself into your space for the night.

You stared at him, heart pounding, fingers still tangled in your brush handle.

The air between you was thicker now, like every truth you couldn’t say had taken physical form and was slowly filling the room.

You turned away, back to the mirror, and continued brushing slowly, methodically because it was the only thing you could do that didn’t feel like drowning.

And behind you, in the reflection, Seungmin sat in silence.

Still acting like this wasn’t a nightmare of his own making.

You slept on the edge of the bed like you were afraid the mattress might betray you, lying stiff and still, your spine nearly aligned with the seam of the bed’s edge. The line between you and Seungmin was vast, even if physically it was only a few feet. You felt every inch of it.

The silence stretched.

There was no comfort in the dark, only the constant, low hum of your thoughts. You could hear the subtle sounds of the house, the creak of pipes, a faint breeze against the windowpane, the occasional scuff of a car passing by too late into the night. Roan’s soft breathing from the next room.

And then, from the other side of the bed, Seungmin’s voice.

“I’ll stay on my side,” he said softly, like it was some olive branch. “I’m not trying to make things worse.”

You didn’t answer. Your hand was curled near your chest, tangled in the fabric of the blanket.

So here you were.

Lying inches from a man you no longer recognized, in a room that used to belong to someone you no longer were.

He didn’t speak again.

Eventually, you turned your back to him. Not because it helped, but because it was the only direction you could face without breaking.

You woke before your alarm.

Roan was already moving in the next room, his usual morning rustling of trying to pick an outfit, deciding which Pokémon socks were lucky, which book he wanted to bring in his backpack. He called your name once and you responded quickly, happy for the excuse to leave the room.

You slipped out of bed carefully, barely glancing at the other side.

Seungmin was still asleep, or at least pretending to be.

You didn’t care.

Downstairs, the smell of toast and eggs filled the kitchen again, your mom moving around like she had a thousand good intentions tucked into her apron. She smiled at you like nothing was wrong.

You could feel your chest tighten.

“I was thinking,” she said, flipping something on the stove, “you two should take Roan to the park after school. You know, spend a little time as a family. He looked so happy yesterday.”

You shook your head almost immediately. “I can’t. I have an appointment.”

“An appointment?” she asked, turning her head. “For what?”

“Just… something I scheduled a while ago,” you lied. “It’s nothing big, just something I have to do.”

She nodded, still smiling. “Okay, well maybe tomorrow, then.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you poured Roan a cup of juice and distracted yourself with folding his lunch napkin.

“Also,” you added, casually, “I’ll take Roan to school today. Alone.”

She looked at you, blinking. “Oh?”

“Seungmin probably has work to catch up on,” you said, smoothly now. “Emails, meetings, all of it. He shouldn’t miss any more days than he already has.”

There was a pause. Barely half a beat, but it said everything. Your mother wanted to say something, something hopeful, something intrusive, but Seungmin had just walked into the room, ruffling Roan’s hair.

You kept your expression neutral.

“I told Mom I’d take Roan this morning,” you said to him directly, watching his reaction. “You probably have work.”

He opened his mouth, hesitating ready to argue. You could see it. But then he caught your look.

Tired. Unshakable. Empty.

He sighed and relented.

“Yeah. I’ve got a few emails to catch up on. Go ahead.”

Roan didn’t protest. He was too busy trying to zip his backpack and carry his lunchbox at the same time.

But on the drive to school, it surfaced.

“I like it when Dad drives me,” Roan said, swinging his legs in the seat. “He talks to me about music and lets me pick the songs.”

You gripped the steering wheel tighter but didn’t respond.

“I wish both of you took me to school,” he said after a moment. “Like yesterday.”

You reached for his hand at the red light. Squeezed it gently.

“I know, baby.”

It was all you could say.

At the school, you walked him up to the entrance, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder. You hugged him tighter than usual too tight, probably, but he didn’t complain. He just laughed and wrapped his arms around your neck.

“I’ll be good,” he said brightly.

“I know you will.”

He waved once, twice, and then he disappeared through the front doors.

You hadn’t even fully turned around when you walked straight into someone, solid and warm and familiar.

You let out a startled yelp, stumbling slightly.

A deep, amused laugh.

“Oh gosh,” you breathed, hand clutching your chest. “Are you serious?”

Changbin grinned down at you, eyes crinkling with laughter.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he said, still chuckling. “I think I might’ve scared you half to death.”

You lightly smacked his chest. “You did! Are you stalking me?”

“Only mildly,” he teased. “Nah, I just drop off Yuna a little later on Wednesdays. Lucky me.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling despite yourself. The sharp edge in your chest softened for the first time that day.

He looked good. The same, and not the same. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the faint veins of his forearms, and he had that same relaxed, easygoing charm that used to be your undoing when you were seventeen.

He looked like a breath you’d forgotten how to take.

“I’ve been meaning to see you again,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t get your number at the school meeting. I wasn’t sure if you were avoiding me or just busy.”

“Maybe a little of both,” you said honestly, folding your arms but not stepping away.

He smiled again, this time softer.

“Look,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “I don’t want to make anything weird. I just thought it’d be nice to catch up. You know — talk. Laugh. Drink something stronger than school cafeteria coffee. My treat, obviously.”

You hesitated, lips parting, unsure what to say.

Because you hadn’t laughed genuinely laughed in weeks. Because you hadn’t had anyone look at you like you in even longer. Because part of you hated how much that brief moment the banter, the touch, the easiness made something flutter low in your stomach.

“Coffee?” he added, sensing your hesitation. “Or food. I know a great place just off Main. I’m flexible. Just say the word.”

You looked at him, still smiling at you like there wasn’t a single crack in your armor he couldn’t see and wouldn’t touch unless you let him.

Something in you shifted.

“I’ll think about it,” you said quietly.

He nodded, backing up slowly with both hands raised. “That’s all I’m asking.”

And then he winked.

“See you around, heartbreaker.”

You didn’t walk any farther.

You’d barely made it halfway across the school parking lot when the thought hit you like a brick to the chest, the image of your front door waiting to open to more of the same. Your mother’s voice sweet and persistent, urging you to see the good in your marriage, like the betrayal was just a lapse in Seungmin’s character, not a rupture in yours. Seungmin’s voice, too, soft and heavy and manipulative pulling on history and guilt and the shared weight of Roan’s little heart like it was enough to glue together something already cracked beyond recognition.

You couldn’t do it. Not this morning.

Your hands were trembling not from fear, but from the tiredness of having to hold everything together all the time. Of being careful. Measured. Quiet.

So you turned around. Fast.

You spotted him just in time Changbin was a few steps ahead, walking down the sidewalk toward what seemed to be his car, his stride relaxed. He hadn't noticed you yet.

“Changbin!” you called out, a little breathless, your voice slicing through the low hum of early morning traffic.

He turned.

His brows lifted at the sight of you jogging slightly toward him, something like concern flashing in his face for a moment, until you caught up, and he saw your expression: flushed from decision, not panic.

“Everything okay?” he asked gently, but not intrusively.

You took a breath. Then another.

“Do you have time now?” you asked, voice lower this time. “To… get that coffee. Or food. Or whatever you offered. I just—” you paused, looking away. “I don’t really want to go home yet.”

He didn’t ask any questions.

No why, no what's going on, no are you okay.

Instead, he just smiled. A little crooked, a little soft. Familiar.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’ve got time.”

He pointed at his car, a black, slightly beat-up sedan in the corner of the lot, the kind of vehicle that had seen long nights and longer road trips, mismatched air fresheners and glove compartments filled with half-written lyrics.

“I’ll drive?”

You felt something ease inside your chest as you smiled back. “Okay.”

You slipped into the passenger seat, tugging the seatbelt across your lap with a click. He tossed his backpack into the back seat before climbing in beside you, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the AC vent. He turned to you as he started the engine.

“So,” he asked, “want to try that new place I mentioned? Or…”

You hesitated.

There was something about this moment, something tender and loose and unfamiliar in its comfort. You stared out the window for a beat, then turned to him.

“Do you remember that diner we used to go to?” you asked. “The one near the overpass? We used to ditch class and get pancakes.”

His face lit up. “With the cracked jukebox and the chalkboard menus? That place?”

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching into the smallest smile. “Yeah. That one.”

His eyes softened. “I haven’t been there in forever. Still smells like syrup and fryer grease and bad decisions, probably.”

You laughed, and it surprised you how natural it sounded. How easy.

“That’s where I want to go,” you said.

“You got it,” he replied, throwing the car into drive. “Nostalgia breakfast. Coming right up.”

He winked at you, and this time, you let the flutter in your stomach stay.

-

The bell above the door chimed gently as you both stepped into the diner, the soft smell of syrup and coffee wrapping around you like an old blanket. It was still there, that same sticky warmth, the gentle hum of classic rock spilling faintly from the speakers, and the low murmur of early patrons with their morning mugs and newspapers.

You both slid into a booth near the back, the one that curved along the window, the same one you used to claim every time you skipped class and wanted to pretend you were older than sixteen. Changbin sat across from you, his hands still calloused but somehow gentle-looking as he grabbed a menu he probably didn’t need.

You didn’t need one either.

“It smells the same,” you muttered, eyes scanning the room. “Like grease and… rebellion.”

Changbin laughed. “And questionable hygiene.”

You laughed with him, the sound coming easily now. Lighter.

A waitress came by familiar face, maybe a little older than you both, her name tag crooked and took your orders without fuss. Two coffees, two plates of pancakes, a side of bacon for him, fruit for you, like muscle memory.

After she left, Changbin leaned back against the booth, stretching his arm across the back like he used to when you were younger though now, he wasn’t trying to flirt. Just relax. Be.

“I still can’t believe that was actually you,” he said, shaking his head. “Like, at the school. If it wasn’t you, and I said something stupid like ‘you still do that fidgety hand thing,’ I would’ve had to change my name and leave town.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Would’ve been hilarious though.”

“I don’t think my ego could’ve taken it,” he teased, grinning.

You took a sip of coffee, watching him as he stared out the window for a second. The sun hit just right, the gold catching on the edge of his jaw, in the little crow’s feet near his eyes, the slight exhaustion in his frame. Life had happened to him, clearly. It had happened to you too. But in this booth, it felt like the world slowed down.

You ended up talking about high school. Not the painful parts, not yet, but the funny, absurd pieces. The time you both got caught making out behind the gym during prom. The time you threw a soda can at someone’s car because they catcalled you and Changbin wanted to defend your honor. The camping trip where you two shared a blanket and he screamed at a raccoon in the middle of the night.

“That raccoon was at least 30 pounds,” he insisted.

“It was five, tops.”

“It had rabies in its eyes.”

You laughed again. A real, full laugh.

He was halfway through his second pancake, slicing through the stack with syrup-covered enthusiasm, when he suddenly froze. His fork hovered in midair, dripping slightly.

“Oh my god,” he said through a mouthful. “I just remembered something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “This could go in so many directions.”

“No, no, listen,” he said, swallowing his bite dramatically. “Do you remember… Seungmin?”

Your heart stilled. Like it had tripped over itself and forgot how to keep beating for just a moment.

“Kim Seungmin.”

Of course you remembered. Of course you did.

But Changbin didn’t know. He had no idea.

You stiffened slightly. “Yeah…” you said cautiously. “I remember.”

He didn’t notice the way your fingers curled around your cup, the way you leaned just slightly back, preparing for the hit.

“Geez,” he muttered with a grin, shaking his head. “I hated that guy.”

Your head snapped up.

“I was so jealous back then,” he continued, chuckling. “Everyone knew Seungmin had the biggest crush on you. Dude would always hang around after classes, try to sit near you, act like you and I weren’t even dating. Like… you were just this free agent waiting for someone better.”

He laughed a little bitterly at the memory, like it didn’t actually sting anymore, just existed.

“I mean, I get it,” he added. “You were… you. You were always so bright. People wanted to be around you. I didn’t blame him. I just wanted to punch him.”

You finally breathed. A slow, careful breath. It was now or never.

“Changbin,” you said quietly.

He looked up.

You hesitated for only a beat. Then:

“Seungmin is my husband.”

The fork in his hand froze. Slowly, he set it down.

He blinked.

Once. Twice.

“You’re serious?” he asked, voice lower.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He sat back, visibly trying to process. “You… married him?”

You didn’t answer with words at first. Just gave him a look that said, Yes. It's as complicated as it sounds.

And maybe because this was Changbin, and he knew you too well, he didn’t laugh. Didn’t react with some big dramatic sigh or over-the-top comment.

He just let out a quiet, “Wow.”

You looked down at your plate, picked at a strawberry.

“After you left,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I was in a bad place. I think you knew that. And he… he stayed. He was always there. At first just a friend, then someone who made me laugh again. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t even romantic at first. I just… I needed someone. And he was there.”

You glanced at him, trying to gauge his expression. It was unreadable, his lips slightly parted, brows furrowed in that faint way they always did when he was really listening.

“We ended up going to the same college,” you continued. “Out of town. Different majors, but… he stuck around. And somewhere between trying to get over you and trying to survive being on my own, I fell in love with him.”

You looked down again. Your voice cracked slightly. “We got married after college. Roan came a year later.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Then Changbin let out a soft breath and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“Can I say something?”

You nodded.

“I’m not mad,” he said gently. “I don’t have a right to be. I left. I hurt you. And Seungmin… I guess he didn’t.”

You looked at him. “He did. Just… not right away.”

Understanding flickered across his face.

You didn’t need to explain more. Not yet.

“He cheated,” you whispered.

Changbin’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

You laughed bitterly. “Everyone thinks we’re just going through a phase. A rough patch. My parents love him. Roan loves him. And I’m the only one who knows the truth. And now you.”

He stared at you, like he was searching for something in your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, after a pause.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” you said, voice small.

“But I want to,” he said.

You looked at him.

“I want to be here,” he said simply. “Even if it’s just as someone who listens.”

You smiled a slow, aching thing. “Thank you.”

And for the first time in a long, long time maybe since before everything shattered, you felt like someone really saw you.

Not as Seungmin’s wife. Not just Roan’s mother.

Just you.

And it felt like hope.

-

By the time the soft clinking of cutlery had dwindled, and the hush of the post-rush lull settled over the diner, you noticed the waitress throwing not-so-subtle glances your way. Her polite smile was stretched thin now, the kind of weary look that screamed, You two have been here way too long, please let me clean your table and go home at a decent hour.

Changbin caught it too, offering a sheepish laugh as he polished off the last sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “I think we’re being evicted.”

You sighed, smiling reluctantly. “Feels like old times. Except now we’re overstaying because of emotional baggage instead of teenage hormones.”

He grinned. “Emotional baggage is way more interesting.”

You reached into your bag for your wallet, reflexive and automatic. “Let me at least get half —”

He was already sliding his card across the table to the waitress, not even looking your way. “Don’t start. I invited you.”

“No, but—”

“I said I wanted to treat you.” He smirked, leaning back with exaggerated smugness. “You can get the next one.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just want me to feel obligated to see you again.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Exactly.”

You stared at him. A beat passed. Then you chuckled, the sound quiet and honest.

Outside, the light had softened into that almost-golden afternoon hue, the kind that makes everything look washed in nostalgia. When you stepped out of the diner and into the sunlight, you blinked against it, stretching your arms above your head with a groan that came from deep in your chest. Changbin walked beside you, keys twirling between his fingers.

It wasn’t until you were halfway to the school, laughter still lingering in your chest from some half-told story about his failed attempt at teaching Yuna how to ride a bike that you realized the time.

“Oh shit,” you gasped, sitting upright in the passenger seat. “It’s pickup time. Like right now pickup time.”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “You said it was later!”

“I thought it was!” you said, quickly grabbing your phone and checking the clock. “I didn’t realize we’d been sitting there for five hours! You were too interesting.”

He grinned. “Flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be,” you snapped, panicked, swatting his arm. “Drive!”

He did. Fast enough to make it right as the trickle of students began flooding out the school gates, colorful backpacks bouncing, parents chatting in clusters by the sidewalk. You both barely made it out of the car when familiar voices caught your attention.

“Mom!”

You turned just in time to see Roan running toward you cheeks flushed, his bag half zipped and bouncing against his back. His hair stuck to his forehead from play, and his voice cracked with excitement.

Right behind him, Yuna’s squeal echoed as she launched herself at Changbin, who caught her with ease, laughing as he staggered slightly from the force of her affection.

Roan flung his arms around your waist, and you caught him, bending slightly to hug him properly.

“Hey, baby,” you said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “How was school?”

“I drew a frog with wings!” he announced proudly. “And Ms. Lee said it was very imaginative.”

“Of course she did,” you laughed. “That sounds very… avant-garde.”

He nodded solemnly, then tilted his head. “Where’s dad?”

The question hit you like a soft thud. Not painful. But heavy.

You hesitated for half a second before answering, “He’s at home. He had work.”

Roan frowned slightly but didn’t say more. He leaned into your side, rubbing his eyes with a little yawn.

“Hey,” Changbin’s voice came from behind you, softer now. “Thanks for today. It really… meant a lot.”

You turned around, finding him with Yuna still perched on his hip, her arms looped around his neck as she played with the ends of his hair. Her small eyes fluttered sleepily.

“I should be thanking you,” you said, adjusting Roan’s backpack on your shoulder. “I really needed to… not be home for a while.”

He watched you carefully, his face gentling. “You didn’t have to explain.”

You smiled weakly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Still.”

There was a pause. A tiny, breath-held moment.

“I didn’t get your number,” he said suddenly, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. “And if I don’t ask now, I’ll probably regret it for another ten years.”

You laughed under your breath. “Smooth.”

He passed you the phone, and you typed in your number, pausing only once before hitting save under your name.

“Done,” you said.

He smiled this time, quieter. “Maybe next time… drinks? A real dinner? My treat, again. Unless you really want to fight me over the bill.”

You snorted. “Oh, I will.”

“I’m counting on it.”

And then Roan tugged at your hand, murmuring that he was tired and wanted to go home. You nodded, your heart heavy again but full in a different way now.

Changbin and Yuna waved as you started walking toward your car, and Roan ever the polite boy waved back, yelling a cheerful, “Bye, Yuna! Bye Yuna’s Dad!”

Yuna waved so hard her ponytail bobbed with the motion. “Bye Roan! Bye Roan’s Mom!”

You paused at that, warmth spreading in your chest despite yourself. You looked back just once.

Changbin was still watching you. Not staring. Just… present.

And for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel like you were walking alone.

-

You smiled the entire ride home. Not a loud, ecstatic grin, but that quiet, involuntary kind of smile, the one that lingers at the corners of your lips long after a warm memory. Changbin had made you laugh today, not just once, but more times than you could count. Honest laughter, too the kind that didn't feel forced or coated in guilt. For a little while, it was easy to forget how heavy everything else was. It was easier to feel like yourself again.

But the moment your front door creaked open, reality swept back in like a bitter wind.

The sound hit first: low murmuring, the subtle clink of bottles, a laugh that didn't belong to you. It was Seungmin’s, quiet, practiced. Familiar. Too familiar. Then your father's gruff voice, amused and relaxed in a way that made your skin prickle. As you stepped inside, the weight came crashing down again.

There, in the living room, Seungmin sat next to your father both of them holding beers, the kind your dad only pulled out when he was feeling particularly welcoming. Seungmin's sleeves rolled up in a way that once made you feel comforted. Now it made your stomach turn.

Your mother was curled up in her armchair with a book resting open on her lap. She looked up the second you stepped in, her eyes lighting up like she'd just spotted good news walking through the door.

“There you are!” she chirped, her voice far too cheerful for how tight your chest had suddenly become. “Where were you? Seungmin’s been so worried. He was about to go out and look for you.”

The mention of his name, that carefully woven narrative of him being “worried,” instantly soured your mood. You hadn’t texted. You hadn’t wanted to. You’d had one afternoon, just one, where you could breathe without his voice tugging at your every memory, and now you were being pulled right back under the water.

Roan ran past you before you could say a word. “Dad!” he squealed, flinging himself into Seungmin’s arms with no hesitation. “I drew a frog with wings today and Ms. Lee loved it!”

You stood frozen in the entryway, your smile long gone now, watching Seungmin smile as he ruffled Roan’s hair, responding with a soft, “Of course she did, bud. That’s awesome.”

Your mom turned to you again, brows lifting. “Honey? You alright? Why didn’t you come home after drop-off?”

You felt the muscles in your jaw tighten. The question felt too pointed, too soon. You hadn’t even set down your keys yet. Your pulse rose with the sudden sensation of being cornered.

“I just… needed some air,” you said flatly. “Ran some errands. Got a headache.”

“Oh no,” your mom said, eyes full of concern now. “You should rest. You look pale.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think I will. I’m going to lie down.”

There was no room for more conversation. You turned on your heel, making a beeline for your room, practically choking on the tightness in your throat. The moment you were inside, you shut the door behind you not hard, but firm. It wasn’t a slam. It was a boundary.

You slipped off your shoes and collapsed onto your bed without turning on the light. You lay on your side, staring blankly at the wall, your back to the door. You hadn’t even bothered to change clothes. The ache in your chest had returned, dull and gnawing, the contrast between now and the afternoon with Changbin cutting deep.

You heard the knock a few minutes later. Not loud just a gentle knock, followed by the door creaking open.

Of course. It was him.

“Hey,” Seungmin’s voice was soft. Carefully rehearsed. He closed the door behind him, and you could feel his eyes trying to find you in the dim room.

You didn’t move.

“Heard you weren’t feeling well,” he added, as if that excused the way he came in uninvited. “I just wanted to check.”

Still, you said nothing. You didn’t need to. The silence was thick enough.

“Where were you?” he finally asked, the first question that wasn’t wrapped in false concern. Just a little more pointed. A little less kind.

You still didn’t answer. You stayed on your side, back to him. Your arm folded under your head, breath steady. But he knew you weren’t sleeping.

A sigh. A pause. The shift of the mattress behind you as he stepped closer, probably expecting some sort of response, a confrontation, anything.

“Look,” he began, his voice tightening. “I’m just trying to talk. You can’t keep shutting me out like this.”

Still nothing. You stared at the wall, heart slowly rising into your throat again. If you opened your mouth, you might say something too honest. Too cruel.

Seungmin sighed again, louder this time. “So this is it? This is how we’re going to do this now?”

You turned slowly, finally, to face him. Your voice was quiet, but it was hard-edged. “How we’re going to do this? You don’t get to walk in here and pretend like we’re on the same team.”

His jaw tensed. “I’ve been trying. You’re the one who left.”

You sat up, your hands trembling in your lap. “You cheated.”

His eyes flashed with something guilt, maybe, or frustration. “We had a fight. We were already falling apart.”

You flinched. “And your solution to that was to sleep with your coworker?”

“That’s not fair—”

“No, Seungmin,” you cut him off, your voice rising, “What’s not fair is you coming here, acting like you’re some loving husband, winning my parents over, making them think this is just a bump in the road. You know what you're doing.”

“You didn’t correct them either,” he shot back. “You’re letting them believe it too.”

You hated how easily he turned the blame. How calm he tried to stay when you were crumbling. It made you feel insane like you were the one unraveling in a perfectly tidy room.

“You should’ve never come,” you muttered, standing now, pacing. “I told you not to. I told you this isn’t your home anymore.”

He looked at you with a wounded kind of disbelief. “You’re really willing to throw away years because of one mistake?”

“One mistake?” you scoffed, incredulous. “That’s how you talk about it? You made me feel like I was crazy, Seungmin. You came home late, you lied to my face for months. And then you had the audacity to tell me you still loved me after. What kind of love is that?”

“I do love you,” he said softly, almost defeated.

And for a moment, the smallest flicker you saw the man you had once believed in. The one who held your hand in college hallways, who fell asleep with his head on your stomach as you read aloud your thesis. The man who cried in the hospital when Roan was born.

But that man cheated. That man let you cry alone the night you packed your bags. That man chose himself when you needed him the most.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered. “Not right now.”

He nodded, reluctantly stepping back, but he didn’t leave without the final blow.

“Roan misses you. The you we used to be. Just… think about him before you throw everything away.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He slipped out the door and closed it gently behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed long after he left, the ache crawling back into your chest like it had never left.

The only lightness in your body now was the faint echo of laughter in a diner booth. A brief moment where you didn’t feel like a wife. Or an ex-wife. Or a disappointment.

Just a woman. Who used to love pancakes. Who used to skip class. Who used to dream.

And maybe, just maybe was learning how to again.

You liked taking Roan to school. It was the one part of the day that still felt soft, simple. His tiny hand in yours, the way he talked the entire way about his drawings, or what he thought the cafeteria would serve for lunch today. It helped you start the morning with something solid, something good before the noise of your fractured reality crept back in.

Today, you made sure he got into class okay, even lingered longer than usual near the door as he turned to wave at you. You waved back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

And then you felt a poke.

Right at your side.

You jumped so hard you let out a yelp, loud enough that a few parents turned to look and immediately whipped around to find the only person who’d have the audacity to poke you like that.

Changbin.

You immediately slapped his chest with a hand, playfully but firm. “You really have to stop doing that,” you huffed, glaring at him.

He was already laughing, loud and shameless. “I live for it. You should see your face—every time!”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you.

He fell into step beside you as you started walking away from the school gates.

“I didn’t realize you walked here,” he said after a few beats, glancing around the sidewalk like he was piecing it together.

“Yeah. Just needed the air.”

“Need a ride back?” he asked, casual, like it wasn’t already obvious that’s what he was going to offer.

You let out a quiet sigh through your nose. “You’re relentless.”

He grinned. “That’s a yes.”

And it was.

You followed him to his car, sliding into the passenger seat like you had yesterday only this time, it felt less like a spontaneous escape and more like… routine. Something easy. Something welcome.

The ride home was quiet at first, not awkward, just easy like neither of you felt the need to fill the space. But halfway there, he spoke.

“You know,” he began, eyes on the road, “you can talk to me. Anytime. About anything. You don’t have to, obviously. But just… I’m around.”

You turned your head slightly, watching his profile. The curve of his jaw. The soft worry at the corner of his mouth.

“I know,” you said, quietly. “Thank you.”

He nodded once but didn’t look at you. “I don’t know what happened with you and… him. I’m not prying. But I can see it in your eyes. You’re tired.”

There was no judgment in his voice. Just quiet, heartfelt observation.

Your throat tightened at that. Because he wasn’t wrong. You were tired. Tired in your bones. Tired in your mind. Tired of pretending.

You turned toward the window, blinking fast. “I am.”

He didn’t press for more. Just drove.

You were already nearing your neighborhood when he let out a soft laugh and said, “Do your parents still hate me?”

You looked at him sharply, surprised, and then laughed, really laughed for the first time since the diner.

“Oh,” you said between giggles. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget? Your dad used to literally grunt when I came over. I thought he was going to bury me in the backyard.”

“To be fair,” you said, covering your smile with your hand, “you did sneak into my room at 2 AM and set off the fire alarm trying to microwave nachos.”

He shrugged. “Worth it. Those nachos were killer.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Don’t take it personal. They were overprotective. I was their only kid.”

“I’m not taking it personal,” he said, mock offended. “But do they still hate me?”

You gave that some real thought, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t think so,” you said. “Honestly, I think they barely remember. You’re ancient history.”

“Ouch,” he gasped. “And here I thought I left a lasting impression.”

“You left a mess in my kitchen, not an impression,” you teased.

He was still chuckling when he glanced at you and asked, “Do they like Seungmin?”

Your smile faded slightly, but it stayed on your face out of habit.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to make it sound lighter than it felt. “They… treat him like he’s their own son.”

He looked genuinely scandalized. “Seriously?”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Don’t take that personal either.”

But it lingered, that realization. That your parents had accepted Seungmin with open arms in ways they never had with anyone else. In some ways, it made everything harder.

You were still thinking about it when he pulled into your driveway.

As he parked, he turned to you with a grin. “Don’t forget. You still owe me drinks.”

You groaned. “Right. You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope. I’m petty.”

You were still laughing when you unbuckled and stepped out of the car… only for your breath to catch in your throat the moment you saw who was standing on the porch.

Seungmin.

Arms crossed. Shoulders stiff. His expression thunderous.

He didn’t move when he saw you. Just stared. A storm in his eyes. His gaze shifted briefly to Changbin, and you swore something in his jaw clicked.

Changbin, still in the driver’s seat, gave a cheerful wave through the open window. “See you, mystery woman.”

You smiled faintly and waved back. “Thanks for the ride.”

He gave a wink, and then he was gone, the car pulling away, tires quiet on the pavement.

You barely had time to turn toward the porch when Seungmin snapped.

“Who the hell was that?”

You blinked.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp, seething. Cold.

You climbed the steps slowly. “It was just someone I know.”

“Someone you know?” His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “That someone just happened to be driving you home? You left early this morning without a word and come back laughing in some guy’s car?”

You kept your face neutral, trying not to react, trying to keep your pulse from flaring.

“I walked Roan to school. I didn’t want to come straight home. I ran into someone and accepted a ride back. That’s it.”

“Is that what this is now?” he asked bitterly. “You disappearing with strangers?”

“He’s not a stranger.”

That was a mistake. You said it too quickly, too defensively.

Seungmin’s expression shifted, suspicion to realization to something uglier.

You could practically see it on his face. The puzzle clicking into place.

But you weren’t about to confirm it. Not now. Not here. The last thing you needed was seungmin exploding on your first heartbreak, in front of your childhood home.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you said, stepping past him.

“Oh, so now we’re doing that?” he called after you. “You disappear all morning, and I’m just supposed to smile and wave when some guy drops you off at my son’s house?”

You stopped cold.

Spun around.

“This isn’t your house anymore. And he’s not just your son. He’s ours.”

Seungmin’s mouth opened, but you didn’t let him speak. You turned, stormed into the house, and let the screen door swing shut behind you.

You didn’t bother to see if he followed.

Because you were too tired. Too full of guilt and rage and the faint remnants of laughter that still clung to your sleeves like perfume.

And in the quiet that followed, you let yourself remember the way Changbin looked at you.

Like he saw you.

Not the wife. Not the failed marriage. Not the tired mother.

Just… you.

-

You could tell Seungmin was angry.

He hadn’t said anything explicitly, not since earlier on the porch, but his silence wasn’t quiet, it was loud. Too loud. The tension in his jaw, the tight way he held himself when he walked past you in the hallway. The pointed slams of cabinets when he was in the kitchen and you were in the room next to him. You tried not to acknowledge it, but it was there. Like a storm cloud in every corner of the house.

That night, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing your hair, trying to find some stillness before bed, your phone buzzed on the vanity.

Once.
Then again.

You glanced down. An unknown number.

[Unknown]: Okay so maybe I did rehearse that joke in the car. Rate my delivery, 1-10.

You blinked at the message. And then smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile because you recognized the tone. You didn’t even need the name to know.

You typed back.

"That was a solid 6.5. I’m being generous because you’re funny when you’re smug."

A moment passed.

[Changbin]: Oh, a 6.5? Harsh. I'm wounded. Drinks on you for that.

You laughed under your breath. Actually laughed. That warmth again. That ease you thought you’d lost.

"Fine. Drinks on me. One drink. Don’t push it."

You were still smiling when your mom called your name down the hall.

“Can you come here a sec, sweetie? I wanted to ask about Roan’s weekend plans!”

“Coming!” you shouted back.

You set the phone down on the bed, the screen still lit for a few seconds before dimming. You didn’t notice the shadow in the hallway. The way Seungmin had paused in the doorway, leaned against the frame with crossed arms, eyes locked on your smile.

And when you left the room, your phone buzzed again.

He didn’t mean to do it. Not really.

But his jaw was tight. His stomach was churning.

He walked over and picked up the phone like it offended him just by existing. The way it lit up again with another message.

Roan’s birthday had been your password for years, unchanged. He hadn’t even needed to think twice. Muscle memory.

It unlocked with a soft click.

[Changbin]: So how’s the house of chaos? Still surviving?

He scrolled.

Each message painted a clearer picture than the last, Changbin flirting, light and easy, poking fun, asking you about your favorite drinks, joking that he might actually dress up if it meant seeing you smile again.

Seungmin’s blood pressure spiked.

That was him. That was the guy from the car.

Changbin. Seo Changbin.

He froze.

His chest tightened, and his grip on your phone turned white-knuckled.

Changbin. That Changbin.

High school Changbin. First boyfriend Changbin. The guy Seungmin loathed, not because of some petty rivalry, but because he had what Seungmin wanted first. You.

The guy who laughed too loud, kissed you in the hallways, held your hand like you were already his long before Seungmin had even found the nerve to tell you he liked you. The one you skipped classes with. The one who broke your heart when he left and left just enough space for Seungmin to be there, to pick up the pieces.

And now he was back? Now? When everything between you and Seungmin was still splintering, still bleeding?

He was seething.

When you came back into the room, Seungmin was sitting at the edge of the bed, your phone in his hand. His eyes locked onto you the second you stepped in.

You stopped mid-step, your expression shifting instantly. “What are you doing with my phone?”

He didn’t respond at first. Just lifted it and tilted it slightly in his hand.

“Really?” he said, voice tight. Controlled.

You narrowed your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You really came all the way back here, dragging Roan with you, telling everyone you needed space, but really you just wanted to see him again?”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned the phone to show you the screen, Changbin’s messages still open, bright against the dark of the room.

You froze.

“You were with him,” he said. “Changbin. Of all people.”

Your lips parted slightly, more from shock than guilt.

“You read my messages?”

“You left them wide open.”

“That doesn’t mean—” You stopped yourself. “You had no right to go through my phone.”

“No right?” he barked a humorless laugh. “You disappeared this morning, left without a word, came back laughing in some guy’s car, and now you’re texting your ex-boyfriend like you’re sixteen again!”

“He’s not just my ex—”

“I know exactly who he is,” Seungmin snapped. “He’s the guy who dated you while I sat there like an idiot watching it happen. I remember him.”

You clenched your jaw. “And I remember what you did. Don’t throw a tantrum because someone actually makes me feel sane for five minutes.”

His nostrils flared. “So that’s what this is? You’re punishing me. Using this whole situation as an excuse to flirt with an old flame while pretending you’re the victim.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he spat. “You left. You took Roan. You’ve barely looked me in the eye since. And now it all makes sense—you came back to fix things? No. You came back to relive your past with him.”

You stared at him, chest heaving, feeling heat rush to your face not from shame, but rage.

“I came back because I needed air. I came back because you broke something in me I don’t know how to fix. And I’m trying to survive trying to hold it together for Roan. And if one person out there gives me a second to breathe without feeling like I’m drowning, I’m not going to apologize for that.”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with a glare so sharp it could’ve cut straight through your chest.

“I can’t do this with you tonight,” you said quietly, turning away from him.

And this time, when you walked out of the room, he didn’t follow.

//

masterlist. dad!skz series masterlist.

❌proofread

[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy @ready2readnwrite lmk if you’d like to be added/removed 😙 ..]

a/n: finally!

[eelliotplague]

i fear i am fixated on will wood..

i’ve been blasting his music all day… whole discography but i keep going back to i me myself because It’s so GOOD.

the og doodle from my sketchpad :p (also drew him on my math test… which… was dumb…)

[theartofeggs]

Dragon PC + Whitney + comedy

I love bullying Whitney <3 they deserve every drop of my ire (i love Whitney)

Thanks for participating in my ask event! IDK if anyone picked up on it before, but I don't say the Dragon PC's name at all in writing. I only tend to refer to him as "the dragon" or just by "he." :) This is the second to last request! Almost done...

The event's ended by now, but I'll finish the current requests I've gotten!

Synopsis; bully gets bullied

Prompt: Dragon PC & Whitney (Comedy) / CW: forced cuddling, unsexy sitting on, Whitney gets called "it" once, cigarette consumption - Dragon PC = male, Whitney = GN (dice rolls) + bonus F! Bailey, GN! Sydney, F! Kylar, and GN! River (only mentioned)

Schooling the Uncouth

He tended to just ignore annoyances. Especially the ones that chased him around, trying to get something from him or out of him. He already had to deal with Bailey's weekly siege on his horde of gold, though she called it "paying rent." He wouldn't stand for total strangers that wanted his possessions or body parts, even if all they wanted was his tears bottled. But, he tended to at least tolerate the ones that only wanted something superficial. Like Whitney, who just wanted a pet dragon. It was odd, but their attempts at subduing a giant lizard were very funny, even to the lizard in question. He even began giving the fellow some of his claw trimmings or fallen fur tufts, and chuckling when Whitney shoved it in their bag before the dragon could think of taking it back. He wished Bailey was like that. If she were, then she wouldn't need a suit of armor just to steal away with a couple of shed scales.

He tended to go to the local school, though he wasn't properly enrolled—he was a dragon, so it's not like he had the legal documents for the human's public education system. He'd show up a little after classes had started in the morning, since that's when the least teachers were available to try and shoo him off the grounds, and peak his head around the building. Sometimes he'd press his face against the windows of the classrooms, namely from the outside, and watch as the students inside laughed at him and the teacher got upset at the class for being so easily distracted. Other times, he'd treat himself to their facilities—swimming in the pool, eating the leftover scraps from the lunchroom, napping in the rear courtyard, perching on the roof like a gargoyle, etc. Today, however, he decided to be a menace. He had to admit, he could be destructive when he got to be in a playful mood. So far, he'd terrorized that religious kid in the library by eating a book in front of them, and he even stole some pages out of a scraggly girl's sketchpad, though he regretted it when he saw that they were exclusively full of drawings of him. He decided she was a good artist, though, so he wouldn't get revenge. This time.

He poked his head inside a classroom door, unfazed when the teacher inside stopped mid-sentence and the students inside gasped. The class was already in session, and it looked like math from the equations on the board, but he didn't find anything special enough about the class to hang around. Just as he began to dip his head back out, he heard a familiar chuckle and stopped. It was Whitney, sitting at the back of the class and watching the dragon as it scrutinized the classroom. The teacher walked over to the dragon, their face pale as they tried to usher him out of the room without being within biting range, and he heard Whitney's laughter again. "C'mon, leave my pet alone, yeah? He goes where I go." They spoke up, their goons giggling to themselves as they held their phones up, just like they always did when he was around. They sure loved taking pictures and videos of him, though he couldn't blame them. He also quite liked dragons, especially the one in the mirror.

He huffed at the teacher and they froze up, even backing away when he squeezed past the door and entered the room. He walked over to the row of desks that Whitney and their gang was at, not bothering to close the door behind him. Their friends laughed and squealed when he got close, some even reaching out to pet him. "Hey, only I get to pet him, got it?" Whitney glowered at their group, and he glowered right back at the bully. He really didn't mind being pet. The kids at the orphanage did it literally all the time, excluding when he was busy fighting Bailey or any strangers that broke in. Not that anyone broke in often—at least not after the dragon's adult teeth grew in and more than a few went missing after a midnight run-in with him. Really, it's a miracle Bailey keeps coming back for more after all those hospital visits. The armor repairs have to be getting expensive by now.

The dragon lowered his head to Whitney, tempting them into petting the long fur around his neck like a lion's mane. They eventually did, running their fingers through it, only for him to headbutt them when he lowered his head enough for it. He also openly snickered at them from where they were sprawled out on the floor, cursing at him as they tried to sit up. Keyword try. He bit at their pant leg, dragging them across the floor and forcing them to choose between being pantsed by a dragon or getting dragged around by said dragon. Whitney chose to lose some dignity rather than a portion of their pride, and now he has a hostage to lug around the school by the hem of their slowly tearing pants.

He dragged Whitney out of the classroom, where the teacher had all but fainted and their friends hesitantly waved goodbye, and down the hallway. He only paused when his ass bumped into the doors that led outside, but brute forced them open with his tail and continued lugging his unwilling travel partner into the open grass of the school's backyard. Whitney bitched and complained, as per usual, and did so louder when their head bounced off of the steps that led down to the greenery. They also ungratefully whined as he raked them through the cool dirt and dewy grass. Once he was satisfied with their adventure together, he let Whitney go and looked down at them. They were all sorts of ruffled, obviously, and looked just as miffed. He snickered at them.

It was a nice day out. Partially sunny, comfortably warm, gentle breeze—perfect napping weather. So, he laid down in the grass and got cozy. He didn't mind that his pillow squirmed and spit obscenities, but he did mind that it lit up a cigarette to smoke while he was trying to sleep. He reached over and snatched the fucking thing out of Whitney's out mouth, chewing at it for a second before swallowing it. He met their dumfounded expression evenly, testing them, before laying back down. He also ate the next cigarette they tried to sneakily smoke before they gave up. Smoking kills, but he'd be fine. He's eaten worse.

the end ->w<- words : 1,106

[lmokis]

GET TO KNOW YOUR MUTUALS

tagged by @heartsandstars46 I LOVE YOU

What's the origin of your username? rollisi iykyk. im actually planning on switching it with my lamoks name — which is the tagalog word (im filipino) for "mosquito" which is my most beloved username that i, for some reason, didn't use for this hellsite

OTP(s) + ship name: ROLLISI RAAHHHHHH they blindsided me and took over my life honestly

Favorite color: any! as long as it's in the right shade :]

Song stuck in your head: strangely, it's "opening up" from waitress

Weirdest habit/trait: picking on my nails, meaning the last time i've used a nail clipper was 3 years ago. sorry

Hobbies: digital art definitely, even though i only crank out a full render once a month at the most lmao. plus singing (i love musicals!), writing, editing, and watching svu hells yeah (this one comes w/ analyzing a 10-second scene for hours, great use of my time btw)

If you work, what's your profession? still a student! (sadly)

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? cashier at my local book shop

Something you're good at: hopefully art 🥲

Something you hate: spending too much time with The Media that i end up being sick of it for hours 😭

Something you collect: paper, notebooks, and sketchpads that i'll never use. also pieces of cardboard and containers 👍

Something you forget: to sleep

What's your love language? feeding people with zero culinary know-how

Favorite movie/show: yeah i wonder what it is (ITS SVU ITS SVU IF YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED ITS SVU. SHOW HASN'T LEFT ME SINCE I FIRST WATCHED IT)

Favorite food: overpriced hashbrowns from my school caf unfortunately

Favorite animal: my dog :]] also beavers, great engineers those fellas

What were you like as a child? incredibly annoying

Favorite subject at school: MATH IDC ☹️

Least favorite subject: anything science related.... makes my head hurt.......

What's your best character trait? self-sufficiency fandom-wise. i've gone this whole obsession without watching a single rollisi edit, im certainly not gonna start now (don't ask me why, idk either)

What's your worst character trait? incessant need for validation regarding my draws 🥲

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? van gogh, cool guy

NPT: @louisaland you're my only mutual gosh :O tumblr newbie sorry

[organized-documents-alt]

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[sixofcrowdaydreams]

Wylan's Dsylexia in Fanfic...

Where are the fanfics that go into detail about Wylan's inability to read? Because most of what I've read so far largely erases or at least doesn't really discuss his disability...

I want to read about Wylan's experiences struggling to learn to read. His anxiety every time there's words in front of him. Repulsion towards books and his own self loathing for being intimidated by such a mundane object.

I want to read about descriptions of what he sees when he looks at text. Do words and letters float away, tangle in messy amalgamations until he can't recognize the shape of individual words, much less a single letter? Do letters or words vanish? Do his eyes simply gloss over letters and just not acknowledge them as words the same way other people look at a toddler's scribbles? Does he loath where math and science meet literacy when he calculates variables (2*y=4)? Does he have to make himself focus to even recognize the variable (and even then does that y in the example above change into an x or an n halfway through the problem and will he even notice if it does)?

Does Wylan know the alphabet? Is the alphabet always linear, when A is first and Z comes last? Or does he know in theory that A is first and Z comes last, but his reality is that all of the letters line up in whatever order they want in between? Can he recognize individual letters by themselves? Or does the shape of a single letter twist and bend unrecognizably?

Can Wylan read common sight words? Can he recognize his name in print? Can he write his name? Can he draw his name instead of writing it if he treats the letters like any other line or curve on his sketchpad?

And those are just questions for canon! What about his inability to read in a modern AU setting where basic literacy is a required skill in daily life? (if your answer is: He just uses a screen reader, so it's like he doesn't have a disability that impacts him daily at all then I'm going to punch a wall! That's such an ableist solution.)

If Wylan's in high school or college, is he in a remedial literacy class? Do his friends or peers know it's a remedial class or is it politely called some type of tutoring or private study? Does he have an official dyslexia diagnosis or does his father refuse to have him tested and teachers simply tell him to try harder? Do the teachers know and have an IEP (Individualized Learning Program) or support items for him? Or do his teachers not care because there's 30 other kids in his class alone and half the school needs an IEP, or is the teacher just an asshole? Do audiobooks of all his math/science/ music theory textbooks even exist? There's a so factors to take into considerations about his experience in a school AU and yet so rarely I've seen these questions addressed, much less explored.

I want to read about Wylan's experience with encountering moments requiring literacy that are so mundane that no one else thinks twice about them but are still obstacles to him. Like buying groceries -- he's only making purchasing decisions based on photos on the packaging because he's sure not reading the labels. Heck, any store. He doesn't know what half of the stores he passes are selling unless he can look inside their windows because he can't read the store name. Purchasing something using a card reader -- all those yes and no questions they ask. Street signs? Can he drive if he can't read road signs? Shop names? Text on clothing? Ordering food off a restaurant menu? Trying to find a TV channel/movie using a remote? Playing computer or board games?

Where's Wylan making excuses for being unable to read because he's embarrassed? Casually passing papers and books to others around him? Pretending to read? His ridiculously good memorization skills? Does he make excuses about not having glasses/contacts? Pretend not to be a native language speaker?

Where's the modern AUs where his text to speech programs malfunction? There's too much background noise to clearly hear his voice or it also picks up someone voice nearby too. Or he's in a quiet space and can't use it? No cell service or internet connection? Heaven forbid he loses earbuds/headphones or his father cruelly takes away his phone/computer or uninstalls his speech programs. The software not being able to translate messy/loopy handwriting. Where are the chat/text fics where his texts are absent of punctuation and riddled with errors he doesn't notice because the speech to text didn't translate properly and he'd have no way of knowing? Listening to every text/email/audio book is a s l o o o o w process. Where is all of the time it takes Wylan to listen to everything?

In conclusion: I want to read more about Wylan's experience with his learning disability. He is an extremely intelligent and resourceful person that finds his own strategies and adaptations. I don't want to see his his anxiety, struggle, and emotional trauma about reading erased or glossed over. I don't want to see his disability erased by never mentioning it. I don't want to see Wylan's disability erased by providing him with modern tools that "solve" his disability by making it a non-issue. Instead, I want to read about his experiences being -- maybe not more realistic -- but more authentic.

Any fanfic recommendations that dive into Wylan's experiences?

P.S. This post asked a million questions and I have my own headcanon answers to all of them. Feel free to ask! Some are based on my own experience with a learning disability. Some are based on moving to and living in a country where I can't read the main language. Being functionally illiterate as an adult is AN EXPERIENCE.

Guess it's time to be the change I want to see and start writing my own fanfic...

[toygrove]

Top 9 Christmas Gifts for Kids in 2024

The holiday season is just around the corner, and it’s time to start thinking about the perfect gifts for the little ones. To help you find the best presents, we’ve put together a list of the top 10 Christmas gifts for kids in 2024. These toys are not only fun but also educational and engaging, ensuring hours of entertainment for your children. Let’s dive into the must-have toys of the year!

STEM Robot Kit

STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Math) toys are increasingly popular, and this STEM Robot Kit is a top choice for 2024. It helps kids learn coding and engineering while having fun building their own robot. Perfect for kids who love to tinker!

Creative Building Blocks Set

Building blocks are a timeless classic, but this Creative Building Blocks Set offers an extra challenge with unique shapes and colors. It encourages problem-solving and fine motor skills in a playful way.

Augmented Reality Puzzle Game

Combining traditional puzzles with cutting-edge AR technology, this Augmented Reality Puzzle Game brings characters and stories to life on your device screen. It’s a great way to blend physical and digital play.

Educational Wooden Train Set

A favorite among younger children, this Educational Wooden Train Set enhances fine motor skills and imagination. Made from eco-friendly materials, it’s a great way to introduce sustainable toys into your child’s collection.

See why the Wooden Train Set is one of our top picks for 2024 here.

Kid-Friendly Digital Camera

For budding photographers, this Kid-Friendly Digital Camera is an ideal gift. With durable construction and easy-to-use features, kids can capture their holiday memories with ease.

Smartwatch for Kids

This fun and functional Smartwatch for Kids has games, educational activities, and even basic fitness tracking. It’s an exciting introduction to technology and can keep your child engaged throughout the day.

Check out the latest Smartwatch for Kids here for more features and pricing.

Eco-Friendly Art Supplies Set

Help your child unleash their inner artist with this Eco-Friendly Art Supplies Set. Made with sustainable materials, this set includes everything from coloring pencils to sketchpads, encouraging artistic expression while promoting eco-consciousness.

Electric Ride-On Car

This Electric Ride-On Car is a thrilling gift for any child. With realistic car features like headlights and a horn, it’s designed to give kids the experience of driving in a safe and controlled environment.

Interactive Learning Tablet

Last but not least, the Interactive Learning Tablet is packed with educational games, videos, and e-books tailored to kids. It’s a great way to combine fun with learning, helping kids develop essential skills while keeping them entertained.

This list of Top 10 Christmas Gifts for Kids in 2024 covers a wide range of interests, from creativity and education to technology and adventure. Whether you’re looking for something practical or just pure fun, these toys will surely light up your child’s holiday season.

Website: https://toygrove.shop/

For more ideas and special deals on toys, visit ToyGrove. Happy shopping and Merry Christmas!

[sciencestyled]

Biomimicry: When Mother Nature Becomes Your Art Teacher and Design Guru

Ladies, gentlemen, and anyone stuck in the multiverse of confusion that is this lecture, buckle up! Today, we're diving headfirst into the wild, wacky, and wonderfully weird world of biomimicry in art and design. Imagine if Picasso and Darwin had a love child, and that kid grew up watching The Simpsons while chugging energy drinks. That's where we're headed, folks! So grab your sketchpads, slap on your thinking caps, and let’s get weird.

First off, what in the name of Rick and Morty is biomimicry? Picture this: you're an artist or a designer (or just someone who doodles on the back of their math homework) and you're like, "Man, I wish I had some fresh ideas!" Enter Mother Nature, the OG influencer, dropping wisdom bombs like a Kardashian drops new product lines. Biomimicry is all about stealing—er, I mean, drawing inspiration from nature's most brilliant designs. Think honeycombs, spider webs, and other stuff you see when you're out pretending to exercise but really just taking selfies.

Take honeycombs, for instance. Bees, those tiny buzzing laborers of the sky, have been building these hexagonal havens for eons. It's like they cracked the code of efficiency while we were still figuring out how to not burn toast. These structures are stronger than a superhero's abs and more efficient than my grandma at a Black Friday sale. Artists and designers look at this and think, "Hey, what if I made something cool and sustainable like that?" And boom, biomimetic art is born!

Now, let's get into the nitty-gritty with a real-life example that’ll blow your socks off. Remember the Eden Project in the UK? No? Well, open another tab and Google it, I'll wait. It's like a giant bubble-wrap paradise but made by architects who clearly played too much Minecraft. The biomes are inspired by soap bubbles and use hexagonal structures just like our bee buddies. Not only does it look like something out of a sci-fi movie, but it's also super efficient in terms of energy use. Take that, flat Earth!

Speaking of efficiency, let's talk spider webs. Yes, those creepy-crawlies whose webs you walk into like an extra in a bad horror movie. Spider silk is stronger than steel and more flexible than a contortionist at Coachella. Designers have mimicked this in everything from bridge cables to body armor. Imagine wearing a jacket that can stop bullets and also catch flies. Okay, maybe not the flies part, but you get the idea. It’s like having Spider-Man's powers minus the radioactive spider bite and the tragic backstory.

Now, because we're all about learning science with art, let's dive into a bizarrely inventive project that you can totally steal—uh, I mean, be inspired by. Picture this: a building that breathes. No, I haven't been sniffing paint fumes; stay with me. Termites build mounds with a natural cooling system that would make any air conditioner cry with envy. By mimicking these mounds, architects have designed buildings that regulate temperature without using electricity. It’s like living inside a giant, eco-friendly lung. Spiderman meets HVAC engineer in the ultimate crossover episode.

But wait, there’s more! Let’s get real whacky with biomimetic fashion. You know how octopuses can change color and texture to blend into their surroundings? Imagine a dress that does the same thing. Heading to a job interview? Bam! It’s a power suit. Going clubbing? Boom! It’s a flashy neon outfit. Late for class? Zap! It’s pajamas. This isn’t just fashion; it’s fashion on steroids. Designers are already working on fabrics that can change properties on command, making the chameleon your new style icon.

And because I promised you an imaginative element, here’s one for the books: Biomimetic Art Project—The Self-Healing City. Imagine a city that repairs itself like Wolverine regenerates after a battle. Buildings inspired by the regenerative properties of starfish and certain plants that can grow back limbs. Picture this: you’re walking through downtown, and instead of finding a construction crew, you see buildings healing themselves after an earthquake. Skyscrapers made of materials that knit themselves back together like your grandma’s best quilt. It’s like living in a superhero universe where the city is the hero. Marvel, eat your heart out.

Now, before you all accuse me of having gone completely bonkers (which, let’s be real, happened a long time ago), let me wrap this up with a fun fact. Did you know that Velcro was inspired by burrs that stick to your clothes? Yeah, some guy got annoyed at these pesky things clinging to his pants and thought, "What if this was useful?" Boom, Velcro. Next time you’re ripping open a Velcro strap, remember you’re interacting with one of the greatest biomimetic inventions ever. And you thought nature was just pretty scenery!

In conclusion, biomimicry is like the ultimate cheat code for artists and designers. It’s taking notes from the ultimate playbook written by nature itself. Whether it’s the hexagonal genius of honeycombs, the super-strength of spider silk, or the adaptive brilliance of octopus skin, there’s a treasure trove of inspiration waiting to be tapped. So, go forth, my curious creators, and let nature’s weirdest, wildest designs fuel your next masterpiece. Just remember to give Mother Nature a shoutout in your acceptance speech.

Alright, class dismissed! Go create something that’ll make even a bee buzz with envy. And if you ever feel stuck, just remember: nature’s got your back, like a squirrel on Red Bull.

[minnesotatitta]

Math sketchpad

The study participants are 33 of 10th-grade students at one of the public vocational schools in Jember, East Java. This learning media is developed based on ICT literacy indicators. This research is conducted using a 4-D model, which consists of four stages: defining, designing, developing, and disseminating. The purpose of this study is to develop a learning media to enhance students' ICT literacy. However, the application of technology as a learning media remains limited. The use of technology in learning is essential for developing students' ICT literacy. In addition student's learning achievement met the minimal mastery criteria. The result of data analysis shows that the implementation of Realistic Mathematics Education using Geometer's Sketchpad in topic of proportion can improve student's critical and creative thinking. The data analysis technique used is descriptive analysis. Instruments used in the study are character observation sheets and test to assess students’ learning achievement. The subjects of this research are the 25 eighth grade students in one of public secondary school in Aceh Tamiang, Aceh. This study aims to improve the students’ character through Realistic Mathematics Education using Geometer's Sketchpad on proportion topic and analyze the student's learning achievement. In this research, the learningbased RME will be supported by using the Geometer's Sketchpad. Realistic Mathematics Education (RME) is one of learning approach to foster those competences. Learning can foster students’ character as well as their understanding.

[sylhea-raemi]

you can really find stuff when you're moving huh ww

[jevilowo]

Potential second dhmis season episodes

I came up with these instead of paying attention in maths

Hygeine

Nature

Prison

Kindness

?

Wedding

Hygeine

The teacher is a paranoid container of bleach

Yellow tracks mud into the house and she goes on a cleaning frenzy

Red is used as a mop

Duck gets his arm melted off by bleach

Yellow overfills the bath and the house floods and is destroyed

Nature

They don't appreciate nature or something so a tree explodes into the house

Family tree joke, in which we find out this guy is related to the tree from Love, the tree from Family, the Coffin and Sketchpad

They probably get lost in the woods, and duck becomes even more feral

Prison

Duck breaks something (my brain was saying Tony) and blames Yellow, who gets arrested

Similar to Family, as it is supposed to be a lesson about telling the truth from a fairy star thing, but then the coppers bust into the house

Their lawyer is the Spinach Can, which goes as well as you'd expect

Red tries to prove Yellow's innocence by doing an investigation, which Duck tries to foil

Meanwhile Yellow does jail stuff

They somehow pin the blame on Roy and Yellow is freed

The process repeats at the end of the episode

Kindness

They're being pricks to each other

A heart fellow shows up and tries to teach them kindness

This fails

He threatens them with a gun so they're forced to act nice

Idk how they get out of this one

Fears

I finally remembered lol

Yellow guy is scared of something, probaby one of the things from the magazine article

The other two make fun of him for it

A shadowy guy appears and tells them fears are normal and then sends them into a place where they must face their fears

Red is scared of owls, and so ends up in a crappy owls of ga'hole knockoff

Duck is scared of planet hollywood and so ends up there. He does like the attention though

Yellow has many fears, but this specific one may be lore related

Similar to the transport episode, they probably end up in the junkyard, and meet the versions of them from the transport episode who are still there

Lesley does her thing. Or the new lore does their thing. Really depends. Anyway, they "end up back home"

Wedding

I know everyone's had this idea already, but it is the best so I'm using it

A married lesbian ring couple tell them marriage is great, and Fluffybird are convinced to do it for the tax credits

Yellow loses the rings

Duck wears the most beautiful dress, and Red wears nothing

Shrignold is the priest, but homophobic amd spends the whole time being weird about it

Eventually after a lot of fighting, the marriage happens

The beak bite kissing thing is canon

They are then locked in a hotel for the honeymoon

Yellow discovers the lore

Meanwhile, Red and Duck are in a romantic room trying to figure out what happens on honeymoon

The series is pg13 and so is allowed one use of "fuck"

I propose it is used here like:

"What do we do now?" "I think we fuck" "No"

At the end they end up back at home bc of the lore

I hope we do get another season, I've already watched the first one 3 times

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Sunshine

(Dad!) JUNG HOSEOK X READER

Just a drabble.

The living room of your small apartment was a radiant summery orange as the sun poked its way up above the clouds. The long windows that looked down upon the cityscape below refracted said light, and prism colors started to dance around the room and bend against the many many picture frames of you and your family with Hoseok. A smiling boy and girl positioned between the two of you in a round frame was the focal point of the mantle piece; the rest of the house being full of sillier photos of the people you'd come to love so much.

Hoseok could be heard from the girl's room, a grumble of complaints coming from the doorframe. Your youngest always hated waking up this early to get ready for school. Hoseok had a way of going about it though, where he would bribe her with the delicious cereal bars so loved oh so much and would promise to make her bacon on Wednesdays since he didn't have to be into the office for another few hours. This was what reluctantly got her out of bed and had her sauntering towards the kitchen without paying attention to the time at all. He would put pigtails in her hair so the whole apartment would smell like the apple detangler that she loved so much. Once she got to school, however, she never wanted to leave. Unlike you, your daughter loved math and science and would spend all her recess time reading books about space under the branches of a nearby tree while the rest of the students played. Hoseok was quite proud to hear how studious she was when the two of you had gone for a parent-teacher conference a couple of weeks prior.

Your boy was now twelve, so he was usually able to get up on his own. He definitely developed his own fashion sense through stealing his parents' clothes, which you found to be quite adorable considering most kids that age usually just go to school in graphic tees. He has dreams of being a fashion designer, so the two of you had gone out and bought many sketchpads and designer books with the models preprinted onto the pages. It was important to both you and Hoseok that your children's interests were never taken for granted, and that you were able to provide support wherever that may be. So when your son came home with painted nails and drawings all over his arms, the two of you knew he would have his mother's creative and artsy side. You loved the varying differences in your children's personalities.

Hoseok then ran into the room holding up your daughter as though she were a fighter plane and made silly noises as he flew her about and into the kitchen, her giggles following shortly after. Your son hustled his way out of the hallway frantically trying to collect his schoolbooks while he rubbed at the eyeliner he put under his eyes. He gave you a look which read "uh can you help?" But with kindness and urgency, as your kids gave you and Hoseok the utmost respect.

It was times like these where you felt the strongest wave of emotion. Mornings with your family were never going to not be important to you; especially after not having that as a child. Suddenly you were back to the dining room from the farmhouse twenty years prior, sitting all alone in the dark and spoon-feeding yourself the stale cereal as you waited for the right time to wake up your siblings and tell them to get ready for the bus. There was a crack in the table, as there were many imperfections in the house, and you would rub your finger over the sharp edge which threatened to leave a mark if you pushed against it too roughly. The wallpaper was falling off the ceiling and you wondered if the house felt the same way you did; pretty on the outside, but deteriorating in regard to the parts the public never saw. It was a burning house and you were burning with it.

You vowed long ago to never let yourself set your new family on fire like your father had.

In a way, it was you rekindling the relationship you had with younger you; a parent sitting at the table with a child who'd presumed she'd been forgotten even though you weren't there physically. She would always feel like someone was watching over her, and you hoped she knew it was herself. You wished you could go back and tell her that the things her father said to her weren't true. That she was worthy of love. That she did belong somewhere. That she wasn't a failure. That she'll make it out of this situation alive and that she'd go through trial and error with people whom she'll love wholeheartedly but will never love her until she gets the family of her dreams with a man who's nothing like the one in her old household.

So when your son came up to you and said "mom, I really really love art," you knew your reply would always be "I'm so proud of you for your drawings, let's hang them up on the fridge" because the man in your house had forgetfully thrown them away amongst his other papers.

When your daughter said she was feeling lonesome, your first reaction would be to console her and tell her that there is so much life to live and there are some parts she'll have to face alone, but never fully. That she'll always kindle people's hearts with her kindness and her love for life, a contrast from the man who told you that it was because you were unlovable.

When your husband made your kids those sandwiches they loved so much and spent a long time cutting them up into stars just to see a smile on their faces, a part of that kindness went to the you who never got it. When your husband insisted on taking trips as a family somewhere where everyone would love and would spend an hour playing with the kids on the playground, the you from before found some happiness. When your son was jamming out to music, Hoseok would be the first to walk into the room and offer to dance with him. When your daughter got older and expressed her concerns with her weight, Hoseok would be the one to hold her and tell her she's beautiful regardless of physical appearance.

When your son goes through his first heartbreak, your husband would be the first to tell him about how he'll love a lot of people in his life and not all of them will be good, but he will be good because he is a lover. When your daughter has her first anxiety attack, your husband will be the first to make her tea and offer the chance to watch a movie which will eventually become her favorite because she associates it with a good memory.

Last night he took a lamp off the living room table and placed it in the middle of the floor. He moved the furniture around to make more space and then emptied out cans of paint into the roller container and painted the living room while dancing with his kids whom you both adored so much.

And when your kids go off to college, Hoseok will be the first one to cry and give a hug and try to convince them to go out to lunch one more time as a family just to spend every moment he has with them before he can't see them everyday. And your son/daughter will smile and say they can't because there's just oh so much to unpack and he'll understand and cry to the songs he remembers playing that night they all danced in the living room together and will set his phone wallpaper to a picture of them.

And even though the kids are still small and the years have yet to go by, there's not a day you regret loving and giving your heart to people. Because even though you gave it out to the wrong person a few times, there was never a time you would say you regretted it because the thing you know best about yourself is your capacity to love. Boundlessly and endlessly.

And Hoseok wasn't there for all of it, but he'd be there for the rest of it and that was good enough for you. Because in a way, he was always there. When you had those nights with your father where you couldn't walk into school the next day without falling asleep. Where home life got so rough you'd find yourself silently crying in the school bathroom. When looking at yourself in the mirror became too difficult of a task so you'd have to shower with the lights off. When everything was too much, but you envisioned having a family of your own one day and someone who'd love you the way you'd loved everyone else. And you got it.

And he was currently feeding your eight year old bacon and looking at you with the most adoration you've ever seen a human being muster.

For once, everything was okay.

[starsarefire824]

the pact

Two weeks.

It's Monday morning and there are exactly  two weeks left before the last day of school. Ten school days left until the Party finally makes it to the seemingly ever unattainable graduation day. Mike can’t believe it.  It’s finally fucking happening . He will finally be free of this bullshit school once and for all. He and his friends will all finally be free of this place that has tortured them for the last decade. No more Troy. No more football players defiling their lockers, or shoving their faces against the shower walls in gym class so hard their jaws clicked. No more tripping in the hallways or snide “faggots” or “freaks” snickered behind their backs. No more spit balls in their lunch. No. More. Bullshit.

Mike would get to enjoy one last Upside Down free Summer: filled with swimming pools and mowing lawns and sticky popsicles running down his chin. One more Summer with creek splashing and smoking weed in the rebuilt Castle Byers, driving his car too fast down the old highway, and drinking his Dad’s stolen beers while watching fireworks at the fairgrounds, laying next to a certain friend with big hazel eyes and a sketchpad in his hand. Mike had been looking forward to it for  so  long. Counting down the days, wishing and hoping and daydreaming about it when he should have been paying attention to his Calculus lecture. Mike smiles bitterly as he makes his way in the crowded hallway. It’s bursting with life at the moment, loud chatter and the tin clatter of metal on metal echoing as lockers open and shut. There’s some hooting and hollering down the hall where a group of 11th grade jocks are huddled in a group. It’s too hot and sticky and smells like deodorant and sweat and cheap cologne.

Mike approaches his locker, cursing as he struggles two times in a row with the combination.

“Motherfucker,” he whispers bitingly as he finally gets it, roughly removing the lock and tugging at the little square handle. He shoves his giant math book on the top shelf and pulls out the novel he’s reading for English class for one final book report. He pauses a moment, the picture of the Party, well the original four of them anyway, from a long while ago, is taped up next to his class schedule, a picture of Eddie, and a magazine clipping of Bowie. Will had stuck little golden and glittery star stickers he found on the Library floor around him, arranging them in a little cluster along the singer’s painted cheek, like a little patch of lightning bugs. They blink prettily as they catch different angles of the buzzing fluorescent lights above.

Will had given him the picture too, probably in 10th grade. His mom had found some old film in a drawer and had it developed. The four of them were sitting on Joyce’s porch at the Byers’ old house in what he thinks was 8th-9th grade. Before California. They’re all clad in shorts and tank tops with a heated shine at their brows and along their arms. Dustin wore his Camp Knowhere hat, still bright green and crisp at its edges. Lucas was holding a bottle of Coke, his smile flashing bright white and eyes crinkling happily. Mike and Will were sat on the rusting metal loveseat, feet up resting against the edge of the table in front of them, connected from their shoulders to their knees. Mike is looking up at Dustin, whose face is a little blurred because he was laughing so hard at something Lucas said. Mike can’t, for the life of him, remember what it was. But Will…..well, Will is looking at Mike. His eyes are squinting with a happiness, so rare for him at the time that Mike doesn’t even really remember him like that. He only remembers the heaviness and darkness around his eyes, and fights in the rain with some kind of significance he was only now beginning to understand.

But in this picture Will’s smile is so big. Full, pale pink lips spread across white teeth, the front two a little bigger than the rest. His expression is so soft and warm, eyes appearing more brown than green in the shade. Now that they're older, after everything, it makes Mike blush when he studies it for too long.

His face falls. He presses his lips together and swallows the emotion that wells up in his throat, his fingers twitching at his thigh as he fights the urge to rip it off the door and shove it into his locker. Sighing heavily, his face pinched in a disagreeable frown, he slams the locker shut with unnecessary force as he readjusts the strap of his tired  and worn black and teal backpack that hangs lazily off his left shoulder.  

As it bangs loudly in his face, Mike blinks, revealing…Max. He peers down at her. Her now ridiculously long, red hair (extended hospital stays will do that to you) is pulled back into a low ponytail tied loosely at the nape of her neck where her headphones are still permanently perched. Little flyaways and two thick pieces, slightly wavy from the humidity, fall softly around her face. It flows in gentle twists and turns past her chest and almost to her bellybutton. She flips it back and out of her way with annoyed exasperation, and it disappears behind her small shoulder. She has her back pressed flat against the locker and one leg bent up, lackadaisically resting two textbooks on her thigh, how angry she is revealed in the way her fingers curl white around their spines. He can see one bright red sock and one teal one peeking through the holes along where fabric meets the sole of her ratty Vans. She’s wearing a baggy flannel over a green tank top, loose jean shorts buttoned high on her waist, and a scowl.

The Pact- Prologue X (click to read the rest!)

[kimmyluvg]

You Belong With Me.

Bing bong! We have another post from @camilos-mivida!! And this is my childhood…

“You Belong With Me” by Taylor Swift was my jam when me and my cousins would dance too when we were kids.

And now that this post has happened, I am going to have fun with this…

Summary: Sometimes you wish Camilo would be yours instead of hers…

Modern AU with no powers but the Madrigals are popular kids in high school.

Warnings: Slight Angst? with fluff on the end, Cursing, I apologize that I use your name for the mean girl… If your name is the same as hers, please change it to another!

You sigh again as you try and solve a math equation that your best friend has dared you to solve. “How the fuck did those numbers work?!” You mumbled while scratching your head, thinking of the solution. You turn your head to the side, finding a distraction, and saw Camilo, coming back home.

You see, the Madrigals are your family’s next door neighbors since Dolores was born. So you would expect that you and Camilo would be childhood friends. You both did everything together, even becoming each other’s wingmen… But you started to have feelings for the boy and it so happens that he’s dating Amalia Del Pilar, the leader of the cheerleaders and the most popular girl in your high school. Amalia climbed her way to the top when she was just a freshman last year because of her rich background.

You saw Camilo staring at you and you waved. He waved back when he got a call. He picked it up and immediately stood up, he looked like he’s angry. You walked towards the desk that was in front of your window, took the sketchpad Camilo gave to you as a gift and wrote down your desired words. While doing this, you took glances on Camilo arguing to the person on the phone, which you knew that it was her…

“What?! Forget it!!” Camilo shouted as he angrily hang up on Amalia and slammed his phone on his bed. He sat down on his bed and placed a hand on his forehead. He and Amalia has started to argue two weeks ago because of you being close to Camilo. She didn’t like how you were close to him and demanded to cut ties with your family. Of course, Camilo refuses because you are his best friend and he would never let anything break your heart… ‘God… I sound like I like Y/N…’ Camilo thought but he overthinks about it… What if he does like you? Is that why your constantly in his head lately?

He looked over to his window and saw you holding up your sketch pad with the words, ‘Are you alright?’ On it. He smiles and took out a matching sketch pad then wrote down his reply. You waited for his reply and when he held it up you sigh with a slight frown, ‘Tired of Drama’. You now confirmed that it was her on his phone. You then wrote something on the pad and held it up to make Camilo see. He then saw the words and shrugged, ‘I’m sorry :’(‘ You then wrote three more words on your pad but Camilo closes his blinds before you could even hold it up.

You sigh and read the words on your pad, ‘I Love You’ with a heart. You place the pad back to its location and close it before getting up and play something on your phone. You wrote a song about your relationship with Camilo and his girlfriend, and you decided to sing it. “You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset. She's going off about something that you said.” You sang as you clean your room to get ready to bed. “'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do..” You said pausing. You scoffed and went to your closet and decided to play ‘dress up’ again.

“I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night, I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like and she'll never know your story like I do.” You sang as you pick on and tried some of the clothes you have. Camilo sighs as he get ready to bed. He wore a comfortable outfit and tried to feel tired… Until your figure floats in his mind, “I can’t be in love with Y/N—¿Qué es lo que, what is she doing?” Camilo said almost laughing at the way you dance in your clothes that actually looked ridiculous on you. “But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts. She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers. Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time!” You sang as you flaunt the furred scarf around your neck as you shake your ass around, dancing. “If you could see that I'm the one who understands you. Been here all along… So, why can't you see? You belong with me! You belong with me!” You sang as your mother shouted you to go to sleep. Camilo’s frown turned upside down and slightly laughed at you, and also finding it adorable… That realization hits him… “Holy fuck… I’m in love with my best friend..” Camilo mumbled as he saw you flopped on your bed out of tiredness. Now that he knows his feelings, he smiled lovingly… Closes the blinds and got to bed.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Walk in the streets with you in your worn-out jeans

Days later, Camilo continues to plot a breakup to Amalia but she just shrugged every attempt and saying that it’s all in his head. He sighs one more time before shooting his head up to see you reading in a bench. He smiled and walked up to you, “Hola, Y/N.” He called making you jump a little and slammed the book, “Ah! I didn’t put a bookmark!” You shouted as Camilo chuckled. You playfully glared at him as he sat down.

I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be.. Laughing on a park bench thinking to myself…

‘Hey, isn't this easy?’ You thought as you and Camilo laughed about the good things you and him shared. Teasing a bit. But it all faded away when a car suddenly parked in front of the both of you. From smiling to a frown, staring at Amalia… “Hey baby! Were you waiying long?” Amalia said getting out of the car. Camilo stood up and Amalia hugged him. Camilo hesitated for a bit then hugged her. You felt jealousy surroundinhg your stomach right now… Amalia hugging Camilo in front of you… It was awful and on top it all, she kissed him. “Ready for our date, mi todo?” Amalia asked Camilo, who just gave her wide eyes.

And you've got a smile that can light up this whole town. I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down…

You felt yourself about tear up, so you stood up. “Sorry to interrupt your date, ‘Milo… I have to be on my way now…” You say as you speed walk away from them, don’t gave Camilo a chance to say goodbye. “How dare you…” Camilo mumbled, letting go of Amalia and walked away. Amalia shouted and shouted at him to come back.

You say you're fine, I know you better than that… Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

It just so happens that you met Mirabel on the way back to campus. She asked what’s wrong and offered you to a drink at a local Café. “So… Still longing for Camilo?” She asked as you fiddle your straw and sigh, “When are you going to confess to him?” You heard Mirabel as you shake your head, “I can’t… He already has Amalia.” You commented, “Amalia’s a puta. Besides… Aren’t you tired of waiting?” Mirabel asked and that send you to the edge. “She wears high heels.” Mirabel said, “I wear sneakers.” You then said agreeing, “She's Cheer Captain.” Mirabel said and you lean over the table, “And I'm on the bleachers.”

“Still dreaming about the day when he wake up and find that what he’s looking for has been here the whole time?” Mirabel said as she smirked and you clenched your fist, “You’re hosting this year’s prom, right?” You asked the curly haired woman, who smirked and nodded. You got a plan in mind.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

So for the past two months, Camilo and you aren’t really seeing each other, like how Amalia have planned. She is getting what she wants… Her man beside her and you being rotten up by emotions made by her.

But she was wrong… You were actually planning to confess to him at the prom this year and you can’t wait.. “Hey, Y/N. The shows starting” Your best friend said as you snapped out of reality. Where were you? Oh… That’s right, you were in the theater, watching the Theater Club’s play called, ‘Hamilton’ and Camilo got the role of John Laurens and Philip Hamilton.

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you!

You look at the stage and saw Camilo rapping Laurens’ lines in the song. And it was kind off funny, “Well, well, I heard.. You've got a special someone on the side, Burr..” Camilo sings in the musical as he acted like a drunk man. You smiled lovingly, staring at the boy you love.

Been here all along… So, why can't you see? You belong with me..

When the second half begins, you saw that Camilo is now playing the role of Philip Hamilton because of Laurens dying on the first half. ‘Blow us all away’ really resembles Camilo in a way like how he flirts with girls before he met Amalia and how arrogant he used to be. You cried at the moment when Philip died in his mother’s arms and also sang along ‘It’s quiet uptown’ song, the song you and Camilo often listen if you both were feeling so down.

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor. All this time how could you not know, baby? You belong with me! You belong with me…

When the play ends, the members of the Theater Club invited you at backstage to see Camilo. Both when you arrived there, you saw Camilo catching Amalia kissing another dude. You went up to Camilo and placed your hands on his cheeks then moved his head towards your gaze, “Let’s go… She doesn’t deserve you.” You said as Camilo nodded, takes your hand and walks away with you to his family, who watched the musical with you.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Days went by and it was prom night. Camilo, of course, have to be there because of Mirabel adding him to the Prom King candidates. Mirabel also added you to the Prom Queen candidates and asked you to appear later on.

Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night. I'm the one who makes you laugh, when you know you're 'bout to cry.

You are in your room, drawing… As usual. Camilo’s gaze went to yours at the otherside of his window and you did the same. You almost got red when you saw Camilo in a suit just like Agustín’s. Camilo picked up his sketchpad and torn off a piece of it before writing. ‘You going tonight?’ Was the words on the pad. You lifted your pad with the words, ‘Sorry, Gotta study.’ On it and Camilo flipped the page and wrote more, ‘Wish you were here.’ He worte which made you laugh a bit. Then a short while he left. You sigh and got up to wear the dress that Mirabel was working for months for you to wear it to the prom. ‘Alright! Let’s do this!’ You thought as you took it from the hanger and wore it.

And I know your favorite songs and you tell me 'bout your dreams. Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me…

You got help with Isabela, a senior college student now, Luisa, a freshman college student, and Dolores, a senior college student with the makeup, hair and finishing touches. Then Mariano offered you a ride to the venue.

Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? Been here all along… So, why can't you see?You belong with me…

When you got there, just at the entrance outside… You got the crowds’s attention… You entered the venue and you found that all eyes are on you. Nervousness got the best in you as you tried to leave. But Mirabel caight you and dragged you towards where Camilo is. You found Amalia in a red dress with heavy make up and Camilo in a suit, “Oi primo, got ya something.” Mirabel said giving him your wrist and dragged Amalia out if the way. Camilo’s eyes widen as he saw you and your appearance…

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor… All this time how could you not know, baby?

You were wearing a Canary Yellow tulle prom dress with chameleons and butterflies embroidered on the skirts. Your hair in a flower like braid and with little to no makeup. Camilo was stunned… So stunned that he didn’t noticed he was staring at you long enough for you to notice. “‘Milo? Are you alright?” You asked as Camilo snapped his conscious back to reality. He nodded, “Yeah, of course… You look so beautiful in that color, yellow…” He said making you blush, “Oh.. Gracias.” You thanked him.

You belong with me… You belong with me. You belong with me! Have you ever thought just maybe, you belong with me?

“It’s time to announce who is Prom King and Queen!” You both heard Mirabel on the mic as the audience clapped. “Come to the stage if I say your name, por favor! Um… Camilo Madrigal!” Mirabel said as she calls the candidates for Prom King first. Camilo kissed your hand before going up to the stage. There are only three candidates for Prom King and three for Prom Queen.

“Alright, and the last candidate for Prom Queen is Y/N Delos Santos!” Mirabel announced as you made your way to the stage. Camilo had his eyes on you, eyes filled with love. “Take a good look boys!” Mirabel said as she proceeds. The voting process will be: Girls voting for Prom King and Boys voting for Prom Queen. “Okay! Let’s start with Prom King… And he’s Camilo!” Mirabel said the crowd of girls sqealed and cheeared for Camilo, who now accepted his crown. Camilo was then given the crown for Prom Queen so that he would crown his partner.

“For Prom Queen, we have a tie! Between Amalia Del Rosa and Y/N Delos Santos.” Mirabel said as you and Amalia stood either side of Camilo. “Every guy has voted… Except our king… Camilo, the decision lies on you, who would you choose?” Mirabel said as you aand Amalia faced Camilo. You both bow down, hoping you would get the crown. Camilo turned his gaze to Amalia’s head then to yoyrs. He took a deep breath and walked towards his queen. “I vote for you, Y/N.” Camilo said placing the crown on your head. You stood up properly and look at him straight in the eye. “What?! I’m queen! Not her!” Amalia protest as Camilo held your waist close to him and faces Amalia, “Amalia… You didn’t think I would caught you cheating on me with my best friend?” Camilo said as his eyes turned to the boy in the front row. Amalia gritted her teeth, “So what?” She said, “If you truly love him, Amalia… Then you wouldn’t hand done that.” You said as Amalia stormed off, angry. Camilo turned to you and took a piece of paper in his suit pocket then opened it. You gasped then looked at Camilo. ‘I love you’ was the words on it. You took your purse and opened it to take out your piece of paper and opened it to reveal the same words in your writing. Camilo couldn’t help but yo lean in and gave you a kiss. The crowd goes wild when this happens. You let go of the kiss and saw Camilo with his dopey grin, “Tú perteneces a mí, mi amor.” Camilo said as you smile brightly, “You belong with me.” You said the translation before leaning back to continue the kiss…

In the end… You both got what you both wanted… Each other’s love.

Fin.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

It’s done!

I won’t be able to post in March 14 because of personal issues… But I will post something on the following day!

Tagslist: @dai-tsukki-desu @itsmesmileyface @camilos-mivida

[googoojeu]

i love you(s). || kim sunoo x gn!reader

;; kim sunoo has told you he loves you a lot, in different times and different circumstances, but only five stuck to you the most.

genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers au, a bit of exes to lovers au too, non-idol au, student!reader, student!sunoo

a/n: i rarely post stuff for sunoo so here i am with an angsty-fluffy fic for him! this wasn't proofread but i hope you guys enjoy this one! also this is quite long,,, deadass

warning(s): cursing, mentions of cheating (no one cheated tho), sunoo's a bit of a dick later in the story (sorry🙇🏻‍♀️)

— :: lowercase intended!

if you remembered correctly, the first time kim sunoo told you he loved you, it was out of habit.

you got yourself two hours of detention after coming to school ten minutes late and for apparently "disrespecting" a teacher (you just pointed out the spelling mistake on the board). you stared at the wall clock above the chalkboard, staring at the numbers and waiting for it's arms to reach six o'clock.

it was currently four thirty-three in the afternoon, with your chin resting in one hand and the other drumming on the table, the classroom's door opens and reveals a disheveled seventeen year old boy, bending down to catch his breath. the teacher side eyes him before instructing him what to do. he nods and waddles over to the seat next to you.

you were completely in your own bubble, your thoughts filled with random stuff like the one time jungwon face planted on the ground because he was busy staring at someone that he thought was cute, or when heeseung called you over so you could try his homemade ramen that you didn't want to admit that it tasted terrible or when jay said he'll take you to paris if you helped him with physics or when jake—

your train of thought abruptly ends when the boy, who was now calm and collected, taps your shoulder, making you look at him. the first thing you think of is how handsome he looked. he looked like one of those kdrama actors your friends keep on gushing about.

"can i borrow a pencil?" he sheepishly asks.

you realized you were staring so you immediately told him you did and handed it to him. he smiles gratefully and says, "oh my god i love you, thank you!" waves at you and focuses on the sketchpad that was in front of him. you sat there, mouth agape and hand still outstretched as if the pencil he previously asked for was still in your possession. he notices you still looking at him and gets confused. as if a lightbulb suddenly appears next to him, he covers his mouth.

"oh my god, i'm sorry. i say i love you a lot to my friends. it's just out of habit, i'm sorry."

you let out a small laugh and tell him it's fine. "people i meet for the first time don't usually tell me they love me, so it was a shock." the boy shakes his head again.

"i'm sunoo by the way, from class 3B." he says, hands outstretched. you take his hand and shake it. "i'm (name), from class 3A." sunoo warmly smiles at you and then you hear the teacher shout for the both of you to stop talking.

you don't regret shaking his hand, even if you got thirty more minutes added to your detention time.

the second one, the one that made you feel different.

you were sitting in your school's field, the poor grass being the victim of your ranting. you aggressively pick at it while sunoo listens to you talking about your problems.

"it's not like i can multitask sunny." you sigh. you've grown accustomed to his presence, even if you both were in different classes. you're also used to calling him sunny, the nickname fitting for his ebullient nature. sunoo radiated so much positivity and energy, it's hard not to miss him when you walk down the hallways. either he's with his friend group fooling around or helping students, sunoo was a ball of sunshine.

"i know (name). couldn't you just tell mr. nam that you can't do the maths competition? you already have a lot in your plate," sunoo asks, worry laced in his voice. you weren't necessarily a star student. you just did your best in everything that led you to achieve your goals, but that also means that teachers would depend a bit too much on you. winning competitions you've competed in, it brings joy to the school, but it just makes you feel drained.

"i already did and he said no. why can't he just ask jungwon? he's better at maths than me." you sighed, picking at a new soft patch of grass your eyes spotted. at a distance, you can hear the school bell ring. students rush back to their classrooms, leaving you and sunoo alone in the field.

"i have to get back (name). just tell me if you need help okay? i love you." sunoo says, beaming at you as he gently pats your shoulder before standing up and running back to his classroom.

you stare at his figure, feeling something weird on your stomach. this feels wrong, you thought. you decided to just ditch class and hide in the rooftop until the school day ends.

you get another detention slip the next day.

the third one, the one that made you want to stay with him forever.

you stare at jay in disbelief as he lists the things why he thinks you're in love with sunoo and why he thinks sunoo's in love with you too as well. jay dramatically reads out the list he has in his hands while both of you were situated under the shade of a tree on campus.

"i've only known the guy for five months jay, quit it!" jay gives you a sharp look and continues what he was doing. you roll your eyes and just listened to what he was saying.

you look at him differently, do you look at me and jake the same way as you look at him? you treat him differently, you bought him soup when he was sick. you get all shy and shit when he's around, you don't do that with us—

as if everything around you just fades, the thought of you possibly and you mean, POSSIBLY, liking sunoo was high. he was always there when you needed him. the shoulder to lean on, the one who helped you convince your teachers to be a bit nice to you, the one who held your hair when you threw up after getting food poisoning. did you really like him?

"oh my god (name), you zoned out. this is why i don't like you." you snap out of your daze. you grab jay's shoulders, causing the poor boy to get startled and scream.

"do i like sunoo, jay?" you ask him, the feeling of anxiousness setting in on you. jay rolls his eyes. "i don't know (name), you answer that."

the next few days were like a blur. you didn't see sunoo that much, even though your classrooms were right next to each other. you were busy with your upcoming art competition and you didn't have time to hang out with your friends. you were sitting on your seat, brainstorming on what to draw as a practice for the competition. jay and jake stopped by to drag you out for lunch but you didn't budge. you didn't even see their concerned glances for you.

and even after all the brainstorming, your mind just wanders to sunoo. his smile, the curve of his nose, his fox-like eyes. you mess up your hair. oh (name), you're screwed. as if on cue, the devil himself saunters to you and places a carton of milk chocolate and bread on your desk. you look up and was about to protest but he stops you with his finger on your lips.

"jay and jake hyung told me you wouldn't eat. i knoe you don't like being dragged to the cafeteria so here i am just delivering these to you."

you stare at the milk and bread before asking him, "can i draw you?" sunoo, completely caught off guard, just nods. "but you have to do me a favor." you look up at him, "and what's that?" he sits on your desk mate's chair and leans towards you, his face a mere few inches away from yours.

"go on a date with me."

a month later, with his hand tightly clutching yours, you look up at the sky to see that the rain is getting stronger as the moments go by. you squint at sunoo's attempt on locating his umbrella with only his one hand.

"you can just let go of my hand you know?" you say. he huffs and shakes his head sassily. "well i don't want to," and he returns to searching for it. he panics as he realizes that he probably left it on his desk this morning.

"i have one sunny, we can just use that." he smiles brightly. "oh my god you're a life saver," as he watches you like you were his whole world.

you giggle, taking out the umbrella, but this time you say it too. you were about to step out, umbrella over your heads as sunoo drags you back in again. you look at him, puzzled and asked him what's wrong.

"i know it's too early for this but i really love you. i really do. i just wish we can be classmates next year, i just want to see your face everyday."

your chest tightens at the sudden confession, but you smile nonetheless.

"i love you too sunny and yes, i wish we can be classmates too."

both of you step out of the building, giggling like teenage girls the moment the rain water hits both of your feet and you think, love never felt so good.

the fourth one, the one that hurt.

both of your wishes got granted. both of you got into the same class.

as you stand next to sunoo, graduation caps in hand while he kisses your cheek for a photo, you can hear his friends cheer for him. you laugh as he glares at his friends, telling them to 'fuck off'. you were happy, he was happy, that's what all it matters right?

wrong.

sunoo barges into your apartment, hands clutching his phone in anger. you were nowhere to be seen and he finds your roommate, solji, sitting on the dining room table eating. "where are they?" sunoo asks. solji tells him that you were at the library with kangmin.

kangmin.

he thanks solji and immediately goes to the library, spotting you and the guy, who he assumes as kangmin, sitting next to each other. you were too close to him, too close. you were explain something to kangmin while he just nods along. you were surprised when sunoo approaches you.

"what are you doing here?"

"we need to talk."

you found yourself sitting at the bench at your local park, cursing yourself for not bringing a better jacket to fight the cold. it was winter for christ sake. sunoo doesn't even notice you shivering due to the cold.

"are you cheating on me?" was the first thing he says.

"excuse me?" you ask, bewildered.

"i said, are you cheating on me?" he repeats, a bit louder this time.

"no! where the hell did you get that information?" he shakes his head and opens his phone, showing you a picture of you and kangmin, sitting too close to each other inside a cafe. too close.

"kangmin has a girlfriend sunoo. you don't trust me, do you?"

"yeah i don't." his answer throws you off.

"w.. what?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"it's true when they say high school relationships don't last when you both get into university. we're in different schools (name)!"

"and i completely trust you! you have girls surrounding you twenty-four seven! do you see me doubting you?" you say, tears prickling your eyes as sunoo looks down.

"i've been dating you for two years now sunoo, i always trust you." you gently tell him, but sunoo just shakes his head.

"i don't want to do this anymore (name). i'm tired, painfully tired. we don't have time for each other and i.. i just-" sunoo stops. you were already crying, harshly wiping the tears away.

"you can't do this right now sunoo, i'm too stressed." he shakes his head, his decision was final.

"i'm sorry (name). if i just keep doubting our relationship, it's best if we part ways." sunoo stands up and leaves first, leaving you to sink in the shock. and then comes the pain, the guilt and then the anger.

once you got home, solji asks if you were okay. you nodded your head and went to your room. it was a mess. clothes scattered everywhere, some milk cartons on the floor and leftovers. you take in the sight and just started bawling in the middle of it. you stare at sunoo's love letters that were neatly placed on your desk, that he sends you every week ever since you both started university. you chuck it in your old shoebox and kicked it under the bed. you also noticed that you were wearing the jacket sunoo gave you for your birthday. you took it off and threw it your cabinet, hoping it won't see the daylight again.

you sit on your bed to process everything. you failed to notice the signs of your dying relationship. but you didn't fail to notice sunoo's last i love you that was too soft for you to hear. the last i love you sounding too much for a goodbye.

the fifth one, the one that feels familiar.

you bask in the smell of freshly brewed coffee as you walk inside the cafe. you were feeling amazing, finishing your thesis and submitting it on time. you greet the barista, sunghoon, and you give him your usual order. he smiles at you before walking away to make your drink.

again, as if you were still in high school, you were in your little bubble again. remembering jungwon faceplanting, heeseung's ramen, jay's paris trip offer and jake—

"(name)?"

you freeze. that voice, all too familiar.

sunoo.

you turn to him and forced yourself to smile. he still looked the same, maybe a bit matured now. his boyish charms still radiating. he dyed his hair into a mint color, he was wearing his favorite blue sweater that was probably worn out by now. he was staring at you, you were staring at him.

"how are you?" he manages to say.

"good, never been better actually. you?"

"good, graduating in a few months."

you smile. sunghoon comes back with your order and you pay for it, wanting to leave as soon as possible. saying you have moved on is a lie. you still want him. his embrace, every inch of him, you want it. but you can't. you know you can't. you thank sunghoon and giving sunoo one more glance, you bid him a goodbye.

you were a good few blocks away, sipping your drink to lure yourself away from the thought of going back and asking if he's single, that both of you could try again if you two were. but that's a selfish thought. he hurt you, he doesn't deserve a second chance. but you wanted him, does he still want you?

"(name)!"

you turned around and find sunoo, bending down to catch his breath, a scene that was too familiar, as if you were experiencing deja vu.

"yes sunoo?"

"i still love you." he says, standing upright facing you. you look at him with wide eyes.

"i still love you, i really do. heck i know it's been two years and it's still you. i tried dating again but no one compares to you. i tried writing you letters that i never mailed to you. i... i messed up." he stops abruptly, hands nervously clutching his backpack.

"do you still love me?"

you wrack your brain on what to answer. yes? no? probably? probably not? maybe? i moved on? im dating someone? im single? yeah we can date again?

"i.. i don't know.. you hurt me sunoo." he can't help but nod. he looks at you straight in the eyes, the familiar warmth still there.

"if you give me another chance, i promise, i won't fuck it up this time."

this was your chance, you want him, he wants you, what's the fuss all about? you were scared. you were scared that he won't trust you and you'll end up in the same position two years ago. but he's right in front of you (name), what's stopping you?

"f... fine, but this doesn't mean i'll forgive you this easy!" sunoo beams at you and pulls you in for a bone crushing hug, repeating the words "i love you" like a mantra.

"i'll make it up to you, i promise. i love you."

but he did make it up to you. even after years of being together, a beautiful silver band sitting peacefully on your ring finger, you still get flustered when sunoo comes up to you and tells you that he loves you. snuggling closer to you, sunoo whispers that oh so familiar three words that he tells you everyday, "i love you."

[thequeenofthenightgentlyweeps]

What's In The Bag? Bucci Gang Version

~ We've explored the animé they loved watching. Now, it's time to explore the contents of their bags 👀👀👀 ( I swear, it sounds more interesting than that 😅😅😅🙈🙈🙈 )

***

Giorno Giovanna ( Student Edition )

*Giorno's bag looks like ( as seen on Episode 3 ):

*What's inside?

~ A biology textbook, one or two ballpens ( he lost the other one because he used it on Narancia ), a wallet with DIO's photo in it, a tram card, his IPhone, headphones, a cheap convenience store cologne, a small bottle of hairgel, a sketchpad ( during his free time, he likes sketching the little critters he sees, frogs for example ), a pencil, an eraser, a sharpener, chocolate flavored wafers ( he never goes out without these ), chocolate drink in a tetra pack, a Bulbasaur keychain plush, some Pokémon trading cards, a swiss knife ( only for emergency purposes ), some old shopping vouchers, a box of bird seeds, and a single lottery ticket.

Giorno Giovanna ( Don Edition )

*Don Giorno's bag would look like:

*What's inside?

~ The latest state - of - the - art IPhone that is currently out in the market, a pair of fountain pens in their gold casing, a wallet with the Bucci gang's photo in it, his Passione Don badge, a Passport and a Visa, some plane and ship tickets, tickets to Disney Florida, various credit cards, several pads of blank bank notes, a Macbook, a bottle of Widian Gold II Sahara Parfum, a small bottle of Suavecito Oil - Based pomade, some chocolate flavored candies, a bottle of throat spray, an old Bulbasaur keychain plush, and a laminated Venusaur card.

Bruno Bucciarati

*Bucciarati's bag would look like:

*What's inside?

~ A simple Blackberry phone, a leather wallet, his Passione Capo badge, some credit cards, a pad of blank bank notes, his ID for the exclusive gambling club in Naples ( he doesn't really gamble but, a Capo must always be prepared ), a bottle of Ambra Acqua Di Parma perfume, his driver's license, a handkerchief, some tissues, a bottle of hand sanitizer, a black ballpen, some Libeccio and Olive Garden discount vouchers ( he doesn't need these but, he graciously takes them from the servers, anyway ), and a bottle of throat spray.

Guido Mista

*Mista's bag would look like:

*What's inside?

~ An old and crumpled issue of Playboy magazine ( Mista always has an issue of a particular magazine, he just prefers Playboy ), his Passione badge, a coin purse, a bottle of Old Spice cologne, his Motorolla phone, a stained table mantel, a table napkin, a huge lunchbox, a pack of sandwiches for the Pistols, one roll of pepperoni also for the Pistols, maybe a condom or two, fruit flavored candies, some bullets for his custom Smith and Wesson model 30 revolver, an extra bonnet, and a dirty handkerchief.

Leone Abbacchio

*Abbacchio's bag would look like:

*What's inside?

~ An mp3 player with all of Claudio Monteverdi's recordings, his headset, his Passione badge, his wallet, his very sturdy Nokia phone, a haircomb, a bottle of Dior's Sauvage Eau De Parfum, a bottle of pomade, some tissues, wet wipes, a dark purple MAC lipstick, a black MAC liquid eyeliner, a black MAC pencil eyeliner, a pack of mints, and a bottle of hand sanitizer ( NOTE: Don't ransack this man's bag, or else you'll get a lump in the head from him. It doesn't have much, aside from his MAC cosmetics, anyway 👀👀👀 )

Narancia Ghirga

*Narancia's bag would look like:

*What's inside?

~ Snacks, snacks, and snacks. It's a bag filled with snacks and junkfoods of all kinds and shapes ( the ones he can fit in here anyway ). Aside from that, he has lots of arcade tickets and tokens, his Passione badge ( almost lost due to the clutter ), his cracked Smasung cellphone, his YuGiOh Duel Monster Cards, a Disneyland pamphlet, his knife, a coin purse ( almost empty because he kept buying snacks and arcade tokens ), some mixtapes, a notebook, a math textbook ( which he rarely opens ), a pencil, and his headset ( he almost never uses this ).

Pannacotta Fugo

*Fugo's bag would look like:

*What's inside?

~ His IPhone, an issue of Detective Conan ( which he reads to kill time ), his Passione badge, some textbooks ( because Narancia couldn't be counted on to bring all his textbooks ), a handkerchief, some tissues, a bottle of hand sanitizer, a bottle of Ralph Lauren cologne, a ballpen, and a notebook.

Trish Una

*Trish's bag would look like:

Well, it's more like a pouch than a bag, isn't it?

*What's inside?

~ Givenchy Blush No. 2 ( oh, come on, y'all know this is coming 😅😅😅 ), a pink Givenchy Le Rouge Deep Velvet lipstick, Givenchy Eye palette with 9 colors No. 3, a bottle of Jimmy Choo cologne, wet wipes, some tissues, an IPhone, and a wallet ( she can't fit more items here, so she chose the most basic necessitites )

***