#Pocket art scholarship

[halfmoonaria]

ignorant

pairing: cairo sweet & reader

summary: you are the next victim for the evil of cairo sweet, but this time it’s not planned.

word count: 6k

author’s note: somebody asked for more cairo sweet and i’ll deliver

Cairo Sweet was toxic.

Everybody at school knew it, whispered it, even feared it. It wasn't because she'd ever laid a finger on anyone���Cairo didn't need to.

She had a way of ruining people without touching them, a kind of quiet, deliberate destruction that made her dangerous in ways no one wanted to test.

Her manipulation was an art form, her lies sharp enough to shred reputations into confetti. A few well-placed rumors, a convincing performance, and she could have someone blacklisted.

Jobs, scholarships, futures—they all crumbled under the weight of her fabrications. Being on Cairo's bad side was like being branded: the stain followed you wherever you went.

People had seen it happen before. Just last year, Mr. Miller had been the unfortunate target. A teacher with a spotless reputation, gone in an instant.

A single accusation from Cairo had shattered his career. The truth? It didn't matter. Cairo's version of the story had been louder, more convincing.

Even when whispers of her exaggerations began to circulate, it was too late for him. By then, she'd moved on, leaving destruction in her wake like it was nothing.

You'd heard it all, of course. Everyone had.

The looks she got in the halls said enough—half awe, half terror. But what you could never figure out, no matter how much you watched her, was whether she enjoyed it.

Did she like that people were scared of her? Did it give her some twisted sense of power? Or did she just not care? Maybe, in some corner of her mind, she felt guilty. But if she did, you'd never know it.

And yet, despite everything you knew—despite all the warnings, the stories, the very real possibility that she could ruin you too—you found yourself getting pulled in. If that's even what you'd call it.

It all started one afternoon after English class. You'd been shoving your notebook into your bag when Cairo appeared beside your desk, casual as if it wasn't the first time she'd ever spoken to you directly.

"Hey, you mind if I grab a picture of your notes? I missed a few things."

The request wasn't surprising—everyone in English class talked to each other, especially when it came to assignments or study guides.

You'd even exchanged a word or two with her before, though only ever about coursework. She wasn't unapproachable, not exactly. Just... untouchable. Like someone you didn't dare get too close to for fear of the inevitable fallout.

"Sure," you said, slipping the notebook out again and holding it toward her.

She gave you a brief, unreadable smile, one corner of her mouth tugging upward as she pulled out her phone and started snapping pictures.

"Thanks," she murmured, her tone flat but not unfriendly. She didn't walk away immediately, though. Instead, she lingered, flipping through the pages like she was checking for anything she might've missed.

"You always this neat?" she asked suddenly, her eyes flicking to you.

You blinked, caught off guard by what sounded almost like a compliment. "Uh, I guess."

"You should see mine," she said with a dry laugh, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "It's a miracle I can even read them."

You knew that wasn’t true.

It wasn't much, but it was the first real conversation you'd had with her that wasn't about group projects or exam prep.

Cairo had a way of making even the smallest interactions feel like something bigger, like a spark catching on dry leaves. It was enough to leave you wondering as you walked out of class that day why she'd bothered talking to you at all.

After that, it was little things. A nod of acknowledgment when you passed in the halls.

A quick "Hey" when she slid into the seat beside you before class started. And then, somehow, it became more. She'd catch you after school, asking about homework or offering a ride home if it was raining. You told yourself it was nothing—she was just being nice, or at least her version of it.

But the truth was, you couldn't help noticing the way her attention made you feel.

Like she saw something in you that no one else had. It wasn't long before those fleeting interactions turned into something else entirely: Cairo waiting for you after class with that same unreadable smirk, Cairo texting you late at night asking if you were up, Cairo pulling you into her orbit in a way that felt effortless.

You told yourself you should've known better. You'd heard all the stories, seen the aftermath of what she could do.

But every time you thought about walking away, you'd hear her voice in your head, low and teasing, or see the way she leaned a little closer than she needed to when she talked to you.

And then it went further.

It had started slowly. Cairo had begun finding reasons to linger after English class, asking about your interpretations of certain texts or how you'd structured your notes.

She hadn't needed the input—she was one of the best students in the subject, her essays always marked with the highest grades and her name consistently praised in class discussions.

At first, you had assumed it was just convenience; you were one of the only people who matched her level of effort. But the excuses had become more frequent, her attention more focused, until her presence became a constant thread in your life, woven in so seamlessly that you didn't even notice when it tightened.

The night she showed up at your door had felt inevitable, though you wouldn't have admitted it then.

Cairo had mentioned offhandedly how she preferred studying with someone else for perspective, and at the time, you'd barely registered it. But when she appeared, backpack slung over her shoulder, her expression calm and unbothered, it hadn't been a surprise.

There was no preamble, no hesitation. She had walked into your room with a confidence that felt natural, claiming space without even asking.

At first, it had been nothing out of the ordinary. Books and notes spread across your bed, Cairo sitting cross-legged across from you as the two of you discussed the upcoming exam.

Her questions were sharp, her observations even sharper. She had a way of speaking that made you feel like she already knew the answer but wanted to hear what you had to say anyway. You'd spent hours like that, trading ideas and bouncing thoughts back and forth, her handwriting neat and methodical as she jotted down lines in her notebook.

But at some point, the conversation had drifted. It wasn't abrupt, just a natural shift, like a tide rolling in without warning.

She'd asked about the books you read outside of class, about your favorite authors, your least favorite, and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting closer, your legs brushing as you talked. Her voice had softened, her gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

It had felt harmless at first. Cairo had always had a way of commanding attention, of drawing you in even when you knew better.

But when her hand brushed against yours, the air shifted. It was so subtle you almost convinced yourself it was accidental, but then her fingers lingered, trailing against your skin just enough to leave you breathless.

By the time she leaned in, it didn't feel sudden at all. Her lips had met yours with a deliberateness that left no room for hesitation, her hand sliding to the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss.

You'd known then that there was no going back, that this wasn't just another moment to file away under casual study sessions. Cairo had a way of making everything feel inevitable, like it was all a part of her plan from the beginning.

The hours after that had passed in a haze. The notes and textbooks had been forgotten, your conversations abandoned as Cairo pulled you closer, her body pressed against yours in a way that made you forget everything you'd ever heard about her.

She had been as deliberate as ever, her touch calculated but intoxicating, like she knew exactly how to make you fall apart and was savoring every second of it.

When it was over, the room had felt heavier, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of your desk lamp. Cairo had stretched out beside you, her head resting on your pillow, her expression unreadable.

She hadn't said much, only reaching for her phone to check the time before pulling her shirt back on with the same calm, unbothered demeanor she always carried.

And just like that, she had left, her notebook tucked under her arm, her goodbye nothing more than a casual "See you tomorrow." As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't just turned your entire world upside down and walked away without a second thought.

That was when it all started.

The whole rollercoaster.

One day, it was like you were the only person in her world—her texts coming in rapid bursts, her presence at your side like she couldn't bear to be away from you.

The next day, she'd barely say a word, her gaze sliding past you in the halls as if you were just another face in the crowd. Cairo had always been unpredictable, but now, it felt personal.

One moment, she'd pull you into a corner after class, her touch lingering on your wrist as she whispered something that made your chest tighten, and the next, she'd laugh with her friends right in front of you, not even sparing you a glance.

The day after you'd slept together, she had acted like it never happened. She'd sat next to you in English like always, her notebook open and her handwriting as neat as ever, answering the teacher's questions with her usual confidence.

But there had been no acknowledgment of the night before—no sly glance, no shared moment of understanding. Nothing.

You'd tried not to let it bother you. Cairo wasn't the type to wear her emotions on her sleeve, and maybe you'd expected too much.

But then, just when you thought you'd misread everything, she'd catch your eye in the hallway, her lips curling into a smirk that sent your thoughts spiraling. She'd brush against you in passing, her hand grazing your arm, leaving you wondering if it had been intentional or just a coincidence.

The cycle was maddening. Some days, she'd text you late at night, her messages full of inside jokes and clever observations that made you feel like you were the only person who truly understood her.

Other days, your phone would stay silent, and when you saw her at school, she'd talk to you like nothing had changed, her tone casual, her demeanor almost cold.

You'd tell yourself you wouldn't let it get to you, but it always did. Cairo had a way of pulling you in, her charm disarming even when you knew better.

She could make you feel special with a single glance, only to leave you questioning everything with her silence the next day. It was a push and pull, a constant tug-of-war that left you breathless and exhausted all at once.

There were moments when you thought she might care—when she'd show up at your door unannounced, her face softer than usual, asking if you wanted to go for a drive or watch something with her.

Those nights, she'd talk about things she rarely shared, her voice quiet as she told you about her childhood or the pressure she felt to always be in control. She'd lean her head on your shoulder, her fingers brushing against yours, and for a little while, it felt real. It felt like maybe she needed you as much as you needed her.

But then morning would come, and she'd slip back into the version of herself that kept everyone at arm's length. She'd thank you for letting her crash or for the coffee you'd made her, her tone light and detached, and by the time she walked out the door, it was like none of it had ever happened.

The inconsistency was suffocating, yet you couldn't bring yourself to let go. Every time she pulled away, you told yourself it was the last time, that you wouldn't let her back in. But then she'd flash you that crooked smile, or send you a text that made you laugh despite yourself, and all your resolve would crumble.

It wasn't just about the moments she was kind—it was the way she made you feel when she was. Like you were the exception, the one person who could get past the walls she'd built. It was intoxicating, even when it hurt, even when you knew you were only setting yourself up for disappointment.

Cairo never apologized, not really.

When she pulled you close again after days of silence, it wasn't with words but with gestures—a hand on your knee during class, a smirk as she slid into the seat beside you, a text at midnight that said nothing but still made you stay up just in case she sent another.

You told yourself you could handle it. That the highs were worth the lows, that maybe someday, she'd stop running, stop retreating into herself. But deep down, you knew the truth. Cairo was who she was—beautiful, magnetic, and devastatingly out of reach.

And yet, you stayed.

Some nights, the loneliness settled over you like a second skin, cold and suffocating. You'd sit with your phone in your hand, staring at the screen, waiting for her name to light up. It became a ritual—hoping, waiting, trying not to check the time too often because every glance at the clock only reminded you of how long it had been since you'd last heard from her.

It was always the same. Cairo's excuses blurred together over time, a monotonous loop that left you questioning why you still held on. They came hours later, always casual, laced with just enough indifference to remind you where you stood.

Sorry, I was showering.

That one had been her go-to more than once. You could still remember the times you waited, your phone always within reach, even when you shouldn't have been so eager.

Multiple times, you'd been in the shower yourself, the water cascading down your back as you heard the buzz of your phone over the noise. You'd reached out instinctively, nearly dropping it as you wiped your hand on a towel to see her message. The words stared back at you, plain and detached. You replied as always, that it was fine.

It wasn't. But what else was there to say?

Sorry, I had no battery on my phone.

That excuse always came with a hint of carelessness, as if she hadn't even noticed the hours you spent waiting for her reply.

You'd been sitting on the floor that time, your back against the bedframe, knees pulled to your chest. The outlet was too far from your bed, so you stayed there, tethered to the wall like some desperate, foolish thing.

The charger stretched just enough for your phone to stay on, its faint glow illuminating your face. Her message arrived eventually, and you'd stared at it for a long moment, the words twisting something inside you. Still, you'd typed your response. It's fine.

Sorry, I was out with Winnie.

She always mentioned Winnie like she were some unspoken priority, a reminder that you were never really part of her world.

That particular excuse had come while you were in the back seat of a car, squished between your friends as they shouted along to your favorite song.

Their joy felt distant, like a muffled sound through thick glass. You'd glanced at your phone, your heart sinking as you read her words. It didn't matter that you were surrounded by people who cared about you—it only mattered that Cairo didn't. Your reply had been quick, almost automatic. It's fine. But the lump in your throat told a different story.

Sorry, I had class.

That one had come during History once, during a class you'd only chosen because she was in it too. Your phone had vibrated on your desk, and you'd snatched it up quickly, your pulse quickening at the sight of her name.

But the message itself had been underwhelming, just another half-hearted apology. You'd barely had time to respond before the teacher's shadow loomed over you, her hand outstretched to confiscate your phone. You typed back the same words as always, It's fine, even as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. It wasn't fine. It never was.

Sorry, I fell asleep.

That one might have been the worst.

You'd waited three hours that night, staring at your phone until the screen dimmed and the battery warning flashed. It felt pathetic, even in the moment, but you couldn't stop yourself from hoping.

When her message finally came, you almost wished it hadn't. The words felt like a punch to the chest, so casual and uncaring, as if she hadn't realized how long you'd been waiting—or worse, as if she had and simply didn't care. Your response had been the same as always, but this time, your hands had trembled as you typed.

These weren't one-off moments. They were patterns—predictable, painful, and yet impossible to walk away from. Every excuse carried the same weight, a reminder that you were never her priority, never the one she truly cared about. But somehow, even after all of it, you stayed. You replied. You waited.

Because part of you couldn't help but hope that one day, she might mean it when she said she was sorry.

Your friends had tried to tell you before. So many times, actually. They had spoken to you in their patient, understanding tones at first, as if easing you into a truth you already knew but couldn't bring yourself to face.

Cairo isn't good for you. You deserve better. She doesn't care about you the way you care about her.

The words had echoed in your mind, even as you'd brushed them off. You'd nodded, said you'd think about it, maybe even pretended to agree.

But the truth was, their concern had always bounced off the walls you'd built around Cairo. It wasn't their business, you'd told yourself. They didn't see the side of her you did—the glimpses of vulnerability, the rare moments when she made you feel like you were the only one who mattered.

But those moments had grown fewer and farther between. Lately, they felt like distant memories, the kind you cling to out of desperation rather than hope.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when it shifted. Maybe it was the hundredth time she'd left your messages unread, or the way she only texted back when it was convenient for her.

Maybe it was the excuses that started to sound more like indifference than apologies. Or maybe it was the way you realized, slowly and painfully, that you couldn't remember the last time Cairo had truly asked about you—your day, your feelings, your life beyond what you could do for her.

And then there were your friends. They hadn't stopped trying, even when it became clear you weren't ready to listen.

Their voices grew sharper, less patient, but not unkind. You're breaking your own heart, they'd said once. She's not worth it. And for the first time, those words didn't feel like a slap; they felt like the truth.

It wasn't just the words, though. It was the way they looked at you—really looked at you.

Not with judgment, but with something softer, something sad. You'd seen it in their eyes when they caught you checking your phone, hoping for a reply that never came. You'd felt it in the way they lingered after conversations, hesitant to leave you alone with your thoughts.

And maybe that's what finally cracked the foundation you'd built for her—the realization that the people who truly cared about you were right there, offering you more love and patience than Cairo ever had.

You started to notice the things you'd ignored before: the weight in your chest when her name popped up on your screen, the exhaustion that came from trying to decipher her mixed signals, the way her words always seemed to twist just enough to make you feel like the unreasonable one.

It wasn't a sudden epiphany. It wasn't some grand, dramatic moment where you declared that enough was enough. It was quieter than that, slower. Like a tide receding, pulling back layer by layer, until you could finally see the damage left behind.

It happened one night when you were with your friends. They'd said something—maybe a joke, maybe just a passing comment about Cairo—and instead of defending her, you'd stayed silent. It wasn't because you were angry or hurt; it was because, for the first time, you couldn't find a reason to argue.

That silence was heavier than anything you'd ever felt. It wasn't the kind that begged to be filled with excuses or justifications. It was the kind that felt like acceptance.

And that's when you knew. You didn't need Cairo to apologize again, to make another excuse, to promise she'd do better and then fall back into the same patterns. You didn't need anything from her anymore.

For the first time, you realized the person you needed to save was yourself.

Which was why you decided to pull away.

It wasn't an easy decision. Cairo had a way of pulling you back in, of making it hard to let go of the idea of her, even when she'd done nothing to deserve your loyalty. But you'd had enough of being her secret. Enough of being good enough only when it suited her.

English with Mr. Solace was where it started.

Cairo slid into the chair beside you like it was hers by default, like she hadn't spent days treating you as if you barely existed. She gave you that soft smile, the one that always felt a little too rehearsed, before it shifted into something sharper—teasing, flirty. The smirk that had once made your heart race now only irritated you.

You kept your eyes on your notebook, pen moving in deliberate strokes. You weren't writing anything meaningful, but it didn't matter. The point was to ignore her, to refuse her the attention she always seemed to expect.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her watching you. She didn't like being ignored. You could feel her presence, her attempts to draw you in, like a weight pressing down on your shoulders.

She leaned back in her chair, her bag sliding off her shoulder and onto the floor with a soft thud. Her arm brushed yours briefly as she adjusted herself, and you knew it wasn't accidental.

But you didn't move. You didn't flinch, didn't look, didn't react the way you might have just weeks ago.

Mr. Solace’s voice filled the room as he began his lecture, his words blending into a low hum in the background. You were just starting to think you'd get through the class without an incident when you felt it—her fingers brushing against your thigh.

It was subtle at first, just the barest hint of contact, like she was testing the waters. Then her touch grew bolder, her palm hovering before she let it settle lightly against your leg.

Your heart didn't race this time. Instead, it sank.

This was Cairo, wasn't it? Always acting like you belonged to her when no one was watching, when it was convenient. Always making sure her actions stayed hidden, as if she couldn't bear for anyone else to know what you meant to her—if you even meant anything at all.

For a moment, you froze. The old you would've let it slide, let her hand stay there, and hoped it meant something more than it ever did. But not this time.

This time, you pulled away.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you shifted back, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of Mr. Solace’s lecture. A few heads turned, but you didn't care.

You felt Cairo's hand drop away immediately, her fingers curling into her palm as if she'd been burned. For a moment, you didn't dare look at her. Your focus stayed locked on your notebook, your pen frozen mid-stroke as you tried to steady your breathing.

But the silence beside you was deafening.

Finally, you glanced sideways, just briefly, and what you saw caught you off guard. Cairo wasn't wearing her usual mask of indifference. Her brow was furrowed, her lips slightly parted like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Her eyes darted toward you, then away, as if she was trying to figure out what had just happened. She looked confused, maybe even hurt—but there was something else too. Anger. That familiar glint of frustration she got whenever something didn't go her way.

You forced yourself to look away before she could meet your gaze fully.

The rest of the lesson dragged on, but the tension between you didn't fade. Cairo sat rigid in her seat, her hands resting stiffly on her desk. She didn't try to touch you again, but you could feel her presence, heavy and unrelenting, like she was willing you to look at her.

You didn't.

When the bell rang, you stood quickly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder in one smooth motion. Cairo hesitated, her movements slower, almost hesitant, like she wasn't sure what to do next.

You didn't wait to find out. You walked out of the room without a backward glance, your heart pounding in your chest.

The hallway was a blur of noise and motion as you pushed your way through the crowd, your bag slung over one shoulder and your gaze fixed straight ahead.

You didn't want to linger. You didn't want to give her the chance to catch up, to say anything that might make you second-guess the boundaries you were finally starting to set.

You weaved around groups of students loitering by the lockers, dodging the occasional stray elbow or careless backpack.

The dull roar of conversations and laughter filled the air, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Your locker wasn't far now—just a few feet away. If you could make it there, if you could grab your things and blend into the crowd again, you might be able to avoid her altogether.

But then you heard it.

"Y/N!"

Her voice cut through the chaos, not loud enough to draw attention from anyone else but clear enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You pretended not to hear. You kept walking, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag as if holding on to something solid could keep you from looking back.

The distance and the noise of the hallway worked in your favor for now, her voice fading slightly as another group of students spilled out of a nearby classroom, blocking her path.

For a moment, you thought you might actually make it.

But you should've known better. Cairo never let things go.

Her footsteps were quick and purposeful, cutting through the crowd with an ease that only someone like her could manage.

You felt the shift in the air before you even saw her—felt her presence, familiar and inescapable, closing in on you like a shadow.

"Y/N!" This time, her voice was closer, sharper, laced with an edge of frustration.

You didn't stop, didn't slow, even though the knot in your stomach tightened with every step. You could feel her catching up, her determination practically radiating off her like heat.

And then her hand was on your wrist.

The contact was sudden, firm, and you had no choice but to stop as she turned you around to face her.

Cairo stood there, her chest rising and falling slightly from the effort of chasing you down. Her hand stayed wrapped around your wrist, not tight enough to hurt but strong enough to keep you from pulling away.

Her expression was unreadable at first, a mix of emotions flickering across her face so quickly that you couldn't pin any of them down.

Her lips parted, like she was about to say something, but for a moment, she didn't. She just looked at you, her brows furrowed and her jaw tense, as if she were trying to piece together what had just happened.

The noise of the hallway felt like it faded away, the two of you caught in a strange, charged silence.

You pulled your wrist from her grasp, the movement sharp and deliberate, and took a small step back, putting space between you.

Cairo stayed where she was, rooted to the spot as if the act of you pulling away had left her momentarily stunned. Her hand fell to her side, and she tilted her head, her gaze fixed on your face, searching for something she couldn't seem to find.

Confusion flickered across her features, quickly giving way to something sharper—something almost hurt.

Her lips parted, but when she spoke, it wasn't vulnerability that came through. Instead, there was an edge, a hint of attitude in her voice that sharpened every syllable.

"What was that all about?" she asked, her accent thick, the natural rasp of her tone cutting through the air between you. Normally, it was the kind of thing you would've found endearing, even attractive. But not now. Not after everything.

You crossed your arms, schooling your features into indifference. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Cairo blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she let out a low, almost mocking laugh. She leaned slightly toward you, her cocky demeanor sliding effortlessly back into place.

"Oh, come on," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear over the hum of the hallway. "I tried to touch you, and you freak out?" Her lips curled into a smirk, the kind she always used when she thought she had you right where she wanted you.

Her eyes narrowed, teasing, self-assured, as she added, "Am I that intimidating?"

She said it like it was a compliment, like it was supposed to make your heart skip a beat the way it always used to. It was a flirt, the kind of thing that once would've left you fumbling for words or glancing away to hide the flush on your cheeks.

But not now.

You didn't falter. You didn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you met her gaze with a calm, steady look that made her smirk falter, the corners of her mouth twitching downward as uncertainty crept into her expression.

"No," you said simply, your voice firm. "I just don't want to do this anymore."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Cairo's brows knit together, her lips parting in surprise as she stared at you like you'd just spoken a foreign language. Then, her expression shifted—confusion morphing into something sharper, almost disgusted, as though she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"What?" she said, her voice laced with attitude, the word drawn out like she was challenging you to explain yourself. Her tone was a mix of disbelief and defiance, as if the very idea of you pulling away from her was both shocking and offensive.

You couldn't tell if she genuinely didn't understand or if she was playing dumb, but part of you suspected the latter. Maybe she hadn't considered this possibility—hadn't imagined a world where you would be the one to step back, to say no.

If she did understand, she was probably thinking about how this wasn't supposed to happen to her. People didn't end things with Cairo Sweet. She ended things with them.

But this wasn't even an ending, was it? It wasn't a breakup, because this wasn't a relationship. Not really.

Whatever it was, though, it was over. You weren't going to let her keep playing you like this.

The silence stretched between you, the tension palpable. Cairo's gaze darted over your face, searching for any hint of hesitation, but you didn't waver. For once, you were sure of yourself.

And it was clear, for the first time, that she didn't know what to do about it.

"Look, Cairo." Your voice came out steadier than you expected, even with the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on your chest. "I don't know what this is," you continued, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, "but I want it to be over."

Cairo's head jerked back like you'd slapped her, her brows knitting together in a sharp furrow as her lips parted slightly. For a moment, she just stared at you, blinking like she couldn't quite process the words you'd just said.

Her mouth twisted into something unreadable, almost like disgust, but you knew better. It wasn't disgust. It was shock. Maybe even hurt, though you weren't sure if it was for the right reasons.

"What?" she finally said, her voice low and almost breathless, like she'd forgotten how to breathe properly.

You could've stopped there. Maybe you should've. But there was too much left unsaid, too much that had been building up for far too long.

"I'm tired, Cairo," you said, the words simple but cutting.

Her expression shifted, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing her face before she quickly masked it with that familiar attitude, the one that had kept you hooked for far too long. But she didn't say anything, didn't interrupt, so you kept going.

"You treat me like I'm supposed to be grateful for the scraps you throw my way," you said, your voice low but firm, the words landing like a stone in the pit of your stomach. "But I'm done. I'm not waiting anymore."

Cairo's jaw tightened, her arms crossing over her chest defensively as she stared at you. There was no cocky smirk now, no teasing glint in her eye. For once, she didn't look like she had all the answers.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said finally, her tone sharp, almost dismissive, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. "Yeah, you do. You just don't like hearing it."

Her brows furrowed even deeper, her mouth opening like she was about to argue, but she hesitated, the words catching in her throat. For the first time, Cairo Sweet looked uncertain.

And it was oddly freeing, seeing her like that, knowing that for once, you weren't the one left doubting everything. You were done playing this game.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you looked at her one last time. She still hadn't said anything, her mouth slightly open as if the words were stuck somewhere between her throat and her pride. Her arms were still crossed, but you could see the cracks in her armor now—confusion, maybe even hurt, flickering across her face in ways she couldn't quite hide.

But it wasn't enough to stop you.

"Maybe you should find someone else to play with," you said evenly, your voice low but sharp enough to cut through the tension between you. You didn't say it with malice or anger, just a quiet, undeniable finality.

Her lips parted further, her eyes narrowing as if to mask the shock that was written all over her face. She didn't respond, and you didn't wait for her to.

Instead, you turned and walked away, your footsteps firm and deliberate, even as the noise of the crowded hallway swallowed the moment whole. You didn't look back, didn't let yourself wonder what her expression looked like now or if she was still standing there, watching you leave.

Because this time, you weren't leaving to get her attention.

[p-erse-phone]

Losing Focus - Nishimura Riki

Pairing fckboy!riki x good girl fem!reader

✶Genre: smau & written(sometimes), university au, angst, slight slow burn ✶Synopsis: Decelis University of the Arts is a very exclusive university mostly saved for the talented kids of influential, rich, and/or famous families, OR young adults with a good amount of influence themselves. Needless to say it’s an unobtainable dream for most, without the money or means it’s almost impossible. Except for the lucky few gifted people who are offered scholarships to be able to try to fight for the chance without the backing of family or fame.  Choi Y/N is one of the fortunate few scholarship students. Known for her big heart, Y/N has always poured her all into everything she’s ever done, especially piano. Considered a prodigy she always thought this was only a dream that she could have while asleep, but now it's real. Nishimura Riki comes from the well-known Nishimura family influential in the dance world, talented, and handsome he seems as he has it all. Graduating early from highschool and accepted into Decelis with barely an application process he’s loved by most, and the pillar of envy for many. Focusing mostly almost all his attention to dancing he doesn’t have the time for an established relationship, but that doesn’t stop him from messing around with whoever he feels like. No-strings-attached. …But when he needs to collab with one of the performing arts students in the instrument department, he finds that Y/N might be just enough to sway his mind. As they become closer and her soft demeanor begins to infiltrate most of his thoughts will he be able to make enough room to let her in, or can he not let go of his current life.  ✶Featuring: ENHYPEN, Some TXT, Le Sserafim(Kazuha), Katseye (Sophia), New Jeans(Minji), tba… ✶Warnings: swearing, sexual jokes and implied themes, situationship, playing with emotions, love triangle(?), angst, making fun of socioeconomic status, more tba…

Taglist: Open

Start: 11/05/2024 

End: Tba

Profiles : Thot Pocket | Losers | Group b | Group G

Chapters !

01 : baby ass boy

02 : gatekeep

03 : contemporary

04 : busy (+written)

05 : who?

06 : commit

07 : lore

08 : agreed (written)

09 : RIP

10 : talented

11 : but platonically

12: say yes (+short written)

13: idrc

14: dog

15: party plans

16: goofy

17: forced

18: I know you (written)

19: Her choice

20: Shy

21: Our

many more tba...

[sp0o0kylights]

I once had to pose in a ton of photos for a friend's AP photography final back in high school so may I present to you:

Steve Harrington, who gave in to Robin's begging that he act as her weird art model for her senior year portfolio (the same one her teacher is encouraging her to bat out of the ballpark and enter into contests.) 

She's doing a whole thing on fashion, subcultures and sexuality using photos and collaged poetry, a project that has Steve trying on different outfits and posing in different places. 

"This might help me land a scholarship, Dingus." She hisses while she's got him bent over her bathtub, spraying parts of his hair blue with wash-out dye.

Steve, soulmate and best friend extraordinaire, goes through it all with minimal (for him) bitching, even if the goth outfit feels absolutely ridiculous, and the 'geek' photoshoot downright laughable.

He starts to have fun when she has him mimic Nancy's straight laced, all A's good girl aura, and equally has a blast with the country look (he has no idea where Robin got a miniature horse but it conned him for every piece of food he had on him and then some.) 

The final piece is the one they're struggling with, the one Robin's now (fake) dying his hair partially blue for. 

A few hours later and he's dressed up once again in a studded leather jacket, the tightest jeans he owns ringed with belts, and combat boots.

 Robin had even talked him into letting her use eyelash glue to attach a few metal studs on his face--two acting as an eyebrow piercing and one on his nose. 

The looks he drew took a minute to get used too when all was said and done, Robin dragging him around Hawkins while she tried to find the 'perfect backdrop' but he's not gonna lie. 

He kinda enjoys being punk Steve.

That is, until Robin has him posing in an alleyway and Eddie Munson comes around the corner, jaw right about falling to the floor.

Even better? 

Eddie doesn't recognize him. 

Not at first, when he siddles up to Steve, nodding to the handkerchief in Steve's back pocket and then flicking the pink triangle pin on his jacket with a finger. 

Steve owes Jonathan a bottle of his father's best alcohol for giving him enough knowledge to get through the music razing Eddie subjects him too, and Steve's all too happy to play the part of punk asshole to Munson's music-snob metalhead.

It's not until Eddies playing with his hair and Robin gives in to letting him have a quick break from the shoot that he gives up the ghost, leaning in to whisper in Eddie's ear. 

"Gotta say, Munson," Steve all but purrs."I wasn't expecting you to fall for the Harrington Charm that fast."

"What?" Eddie asks, jerking his head back to look at him with wide eyes. 

Maybe it's the outfit giving him the extra ounce of courage, but Steve likes to think more that it gives him the freedom to lean forward and brush their lips together. 

Eddie doesn't return it, but that's alright. 

Steve's played this game enough to know that it was merely a hook for a real kiss. 

"Okay." Robin says, annoyed, camera at her side. "Steve, I'm happy that you're finally exploring that repressed as fuck homosexuality we keep arguing about, I really am, but I have to get this last photo!" 

He ignores her, instead nudging Eddie's shoulders.

"Care to pose with me?" Steve asks, grinning. He can tell Eddie still isn't sure if this is a joke, that he's seconds from running, and reaches out to tug on his black handkerchief. "Get Robin her photo, and then talk about this after, Mr. S&M."

Eddie flushes scarlet, but after some reassurance (and wheelding) from Robin, finally agrees. 

(Later, he agrees to a date, which Steve also credits the outfit for.

Even if Robin demands half the credit.) 

[redheadspark]

may i have Benedict x reader from bridgerton with prompt #25

A/N - So cute for Benedict! Thanks for the request, anon!

Overflowed

Summary - Benedict knows how to make you smile

Warnings - Angst and fluff rolled into one :)

If there was one thing you loved about your life being a Bridgerton, it was how it was never boring or mundane.

It all started when you met your future husband, Benedict.  You both were attending art class at one of the most prestigious schools in the area, sitting side by side during one of the night classes and going through one of the lectures.  Benedict came from a wealthy family, prestigious family, which that had a major reputation for being well-loved and compassionate in charities and amongst other families.  You heard about his family for some time, though your family was not part of that circle since you were not well off.  In fact, you were attending the art school on a full-ride scholarship, not wanting to take it for granted and keeping your nose in your books and canvas.  But that night as Benedict plopped down next to you with his laptop out and ready to try, he looked over at you as you were handwriting your notes instead of typing it out.

He smiled, leaning over and saying in a low tone, “I like your handwriting.  It’s lovely,”

It was safe to say you are smitten with him from then on out.

You both sat together for the rest of the semester, learning about each other and becoming friends.  All of those rumors and stories that you hear about his family both seemed true and untrue.  He was kind, and humble in his upbringing and just wishing to be a better artist but not afraid to talk about his family and all of their endeavors.  He showed interest in you and what you liked about art, which pieces you liked and hated.  Although you were hesitant and wanted to keep your guard up when it came to letting in someone new in your life, Benedict snuck in always. 

Your first date was actually at the local county fair, Benedict asked you out after several months of building a friendship. It was surprising that he took you to a county fair, some of your other friends were already spewing theories about him taking you to a luxury restaurant or even on a yacht since his older brother Anthony did that with his now wife Kate. But not with Benedict, he would prefer to laugh with you and eat fried fair food and look at the street vendors.  

He made you laugh while attempting to win you a stuffed animal at the games, though you tried to warn him that they were rigged.  Benedict threw one baseball a bit too hard and almost broke the tent wall behind the plate that he was attempting to smash.  You laughed, the vendor scowling at him as Benedict took your hand and you both bolted before you were caught.  Benedict loved the sound of your laugh, he mentally would remember that moment for the rest of his life.  Throughout the night, you felt your walls coming down slowly with him and how he made you smile and giggle without you realizing what he was doing. Benedict was more down to earth than anything that night, then taking you to the local art show that was placed in the back of the fair.  

“I thought you would rather see something like this than at a fancy gallery,” He explained, you grinning from ear to ear as you both were gazing at the paintings and sketches from local painters and artist that were selling their art.  To think that he had all the money he would ever need, the reputation to be put in the pockets of people with power, but he simply wanted to be with you.

You shared your first kiss that night, his lips tasting of popcorn and soda pop.

Dating Benedict was both thrilling and intimidating at the same time. You were taken into his world, filled with wealthy relatives and charities that would sell dinner seats for thousands of dollars.  You barely had 1000 dollars to your name, let alone in your savings, but Benedict never minded it.  His own family was insanely sweet and kind to you, seeing how you made the artist in the family so happy and filled with joy.  Of course, they would tease you about his aloofness and his quirky nature, but you saw the same compassion and authenticity that was in Benedict in each of his siblings and his kind mother.  

However, you were a fish out of water with those dinners and events that you attended on Benedict’s arm.  The small talk with the fellow guests seemed forced and almost dry, Most of them were grilling you with questions about your own life, if you came from a rich family, or if you had any investments.  The pressure was a bit much at times, Benedict sensing it when you sat side by side during the dinners.  But the great thing about Benedict was that he would attempt to make you laugh during those tense moments, by any means necessary.  Comments under his breath, jokes that he knew were not great dinner conversation, his sense of humor was once again winning and making you come out of your shell a bit more.

Anthony could have sworn he saw you giggling and hiding your smile behind your napkin as Benedict whispered in your ear.  Anthony knew it then, you two were meant to be together.

Not everything was happy and positive with you two when it came to your love for one another. Because of your more humbled upbringing, your family bought of Benedict as dragging you along to use you.  It was hard to hear that from them, they all thought it was some kind of ruse and not real.  No matter how many times you defended your love for Benedict and told them constantly that you both were insanely happy together.  Even your ex was spewing hate on your relationship, which hurt a bit more since you and your ex were a bit sour together.  

But in the end, Benedict always came through by comforting you and making you feel safe.  He would constantly hug you and remind you that you were strong and adored, that you’d come so far in earning your degree and working at a gallery, fighting tooth and nail with your advantages and no leg up.  He admired you for that, and to see you feel defeated by others and their words broke his heart.  Plenty of nights were shared holding each other and talking through those bitter moments, it felt better to talk to him about it and get it off your chest than to hold it in.

And every time, Benedict would end up making you laugh and bringing you joy.  

“I think I found mummy!”  You looked up from your spot on the loveseat, holding an important letter in your fingers as your husband waltzed into the room with your 3-year-old daughter on his back and squealing in joy.  You beamed, watching your husband act like a horse and neighing as he was galloping around the small living room and your daughter laughing her head off with her ringlets dancing behind her.  

“Look, mummy!  Daddy’s a horsey!” She shrieked as Benedict was going in circles around your loveseat, you placing the letter on the coffee table and standing up with your hands on your hips.

“Quite the handsome horse too!” You teased, Benedict, slowing down and laughing as he stood in front of you.  Your daughter, Emma Violet Bridgerton, poked her head over his shoulder and you saw the same shade of green that her father had in her eyes.  She reached out to you with grabby hands, to which you scooped her in your arms to hug her tight, breathing in her sweet scent and feeling her arms around you.

5 years of marriage was no easy feat, but it was rewarding.  You both got married in the spring, then found a decent apartment in the downtown area that was close to the gallery you were now running and Benedict sold some of his work to get some money in your pockets. He would rather make money not by his name but by his art, using an alias with his art and not giving out his true identity.  It worked in his favor, his work being sold globally and making his alias a household name.  Your net worth grew, though tedious at times, but it grew nonetheless.  

So the news that you were pregnant two years into your marriage was a surprise, but the best kind since Benedict was over the moon at the thought of being a father.  Sure, he never thought about being a father so soon, but he didn't despise the thought of it.   Yet you were the one who was afraid of parenthood, mostly because of your own experience with your parents and how they were with you.  They were harsh, far too realistic, and at times brutal.  Did you want to inflict that on your own child?

“You are not your mum and dad,” Benedict reminded you one night as you two were lying in bed, you telling him what was festering in your mind and what you were fearing.  He had one arm around your shoulders, and his other hand was resting on your lower stomach while he was staring at you lovingly, “We are gonna love this baby and make sure that there is nothing but happiness in this home.  Plus, I bet you we’ll make mistakes here and there.  Especially me, I bet you I’m gonna put the diaper on the wrong way,”

You smiled softly, “More than once?” You asked to ask sheepishly, Benedict’s smile got wide.

“Are you kidding, over a dozen times at least!” He explained, you laughing as he went on, “And I’ll be singing to our baby with my horrible singing voice, you’re gonna hate it!”

As soon as Emma Violet Bridgerton was born, Benedict was over the moon in love with her.

“We were looking for you in hopes you were wanting to come get ice cream with us!” Benedict explained to you as Emma perked up and looked at you with her father’s eyes she inherited.

“Can we, mum?” She asked with hope in her voice, you eyeing her and then her father.

“Before dinner?” You asked in a joking tone, Emma giggling glee as you tickled her sides, “The scandal of it all!  What will the neighbors say!  We must get ice cream then since I have been craving chocolate!”

“Hooray!” Emma said in victory, the there of you walking out of the living room together as a happy family.  You left the letter behind, another disappointing letter from your parents who were reprimanding you for shielding your daughter from her grandparents.  But you were having none of it, you may have before when things were still tender with them. Yet not now, not with this life that was overflowing with happiness.  

The overflowing will never end, not if Benedict had anything to do with it.

The End.

May Prompt Session

[companionjones]

Notice

Pairing: Beck Oliver x Afab!Reader

Fandom: Victorious (Nickelodeon)

Summary: You’re poorer than the average student at Hollywood Arts. Beck Oliver takes notice.

Warnings: Cursing, Smut

*******

    Beck always noticed you. He noticed that whenever an extra-curricular activity required out-of-pocket spending, you opted out. He noticed you only had three t-shirts that you switched out with the same pair of jeans every day. He especially noticed those dark circles under your eyes that never seemed to go away.

    He decided to do something about it one day while everyone was finishing up their lunches and heading back to class. Beck pulled you aside. “Hey,” he started.

    “Hey.”

    Beck asked, “Do you want to hang out after school today?”

    The question wasn’t completely out of left field. You and Beck would hang out all the time. Only at his trailer, though. Beck had never been to your place.

    “Sure,” you answered him with a smile.

    He nodded. “Great. Maybe we could go to the mall or something?”

    You hesitated. “Uh...Sorry, I can’t. I’m, um, a little low on funds at the moment. Maybe some other ti--”

    Beck was quick to offer, “Don’t worry, I got you covered.”

    You shook your head. “No, Beck. I don’t want to worry about paying you back--”

    “Don’t worry about that either, okay? Just come to the mall, and have a good time.”

    You and Beck stared at each other for a moment while you bit your lip, deliberating. “Okay,” you finally replied. “Now, come on. We’re going to be late for History.”

    After school that day, Beck drove you to the mall. You guys were there for hours. Despite how long you were there for you, you only got two more t-shirts, and two more pairs of jeans. Beck had to practically beg to buy them for you, too. He didn’t mind. Any time Beck spent with you was fun, no matter what you were doing.

    You two left about an hour before the mall closed.

    “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home? It’s getting late,” Beck pointed out, concerned.

    “I know,” you shrugged, “But my house isn’t that far from here, and I like walking anyway, so...Thank you.”

    “No problem.” Beck thought that was the end of it, so he started meandering back to his car.

    “I mean it, Beck.”

    He heard that you were walking back up to him, so Beck turned around.

    You leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” you told him again before walking off in your own direction.

    Beck didn’t feel great about what he did next. Was it considered stalking if you truly cared about the person and were just making sure they were okay? Probably. Beck followed you to a more run-down part of town. He saw you go into an old, abandoned shop with boarded up windows.

    Beck slammed his truck into park, hopped out, and ran in after you.

    “Y/n?”

    He saw that you nearly jumped out of your skinned when you heard him. “Beck?! What the hell are you doing here?”

    He turned the question back onto you. “What the hell are you doing here? Y/n, is this where you live?”

    “No...” You were obviously lying.

    “Y/n!” Beck pushed.

    “Okay! I’m sorry. Yes, I live here,” you confirmed. “My parents ditched me a while back, and I didn’t want to go into the foster system, so...” You gestured around you.

    Beck took a few steps forward. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

    “Because I didn’t want you to think I was this poor, dirty kid who’s only good for anything because they got a scholarship to Hollywood Arts,” you answered, tears forming in your eyes.

    Beck took your hand. “Hey, I could never think that. You’re such a good person, Y/n...Come stay with me.” Beck didn’t know he was going to say that, but he stood by it.

    “What? No. I can’t ask you to--”

    “Then at least stay with me tonight,” begged Beck, “I can’t stand the thought of leaving you here.”

     The tears began to roll down your cheeks as you started to sob. You took the one step necessary to hug Beck.

    He gladly took you in his arms.

    So, you packed a bag and headed to Beck’s trailer for the night.

    When you got there, you stood awkwardly in the corner while Beck made the bed for you. He then started to put a couple blankets and pillows on the floor for himself.

    “Beck, I’m not going to take your bed from you,” you insisted.

    After a little bit of arguing, you and Beck settled into bed together. He turned the lights out.

    “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me,” you pressed.

    He said these next words like they were nothing. “It’s not a problem. I’d do anything for you.”

    “Why?” you whispered.

    Beck thought a moment before responding, “Isn’t it obvious?” He was sure you could hear his heart, it was beating so loud.

    Suddenly, you were leaning in.

    Before Beck could even think, your lips were on his.

    Beck slowly moved his lips with yours. He put a hand on your cheek, and one of your hands ended up in his hair. He moaned. He found he loved it when you played with his hair.

    Things were getting more heated. Beck rolled on top of you without even realizing it.

    Then, you reached down to tug on the waist band of his shorts, and Beck was sure he felt all the blood in his body rush to his dick.

    “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.” Beck grabbed both your hands and dragged them up to where he could see them. “Are you sure about this?” he asked you.

    “Yes. Come on. I want you inside me.” You pulled Beck in for another kiss.

    He moaned at your words, and this kiss. Beck then helped you take off your own shirt before taking off his own. The two of you then kicked off your pants and underwear to get yourselves completely naked for each other.

    “Oh, fuck. You’re so wet,” Beck cursed, coating his cock in your juices. “Are you ready?”

    “Please baby.” You were gazing at him through half-lidded eyes.

    Beck almost chocked on his own spit after hearing you say that to him. He pushed inside you, moaning with you as he went. Beck had to look away from you because he swore if he was looking at you while you were making him feel that good, he would’ve cum then and there.

    Once he had sunk all the way into you, Beck started to pull out and thrust back in. This began a whole new series of moans from both you and him.

    Beck had his hands planted on either side of your head, and your head was tossed back as you moaned each time he entered you.

    Suddenly, you grabbed onto his hips. “Beck...!”

    “I know, I’m close too,” he assured you before speeding up his thrusts.

    Your moans only increased in pitch each time Beck moved, until finally, you shouted as you reached your climax.

    With you tightening around him, Beck only needed a couple more thrusts before he was cumming right along with you.

    After, Beck collapsed next to you, and the two of you caught your breaths among your tangled limbs.

    Beck turned his nose into your cheek. “Stay with me.” It was clear he meant longer than that night.

    You nodded, “Okay,” then turned to face him, only to capture his lips again.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[stari-hun]

No Storm: Time Traveler AU

Isokania (and their horrible no good bad college situationship that forces them both to become separate people)

In my first Ramble, I mentioned how Kakania and Isolde grew up together in a boarding school. Both of their parents are historians, but the Dittarsdorfs have an actual connection to nobility and are still technically noble. Just like the original story, they met through Theopil during the time he was free to introduce the two, and just like the original story, they became instant best friends. Inevitably they were sent to the same catholic school boarding school together. The two of them were very isolated to one another too, as Kakania would struggle to make friends from her quick reputation as a troublemaker, and Isolde held no interest in others outside of Kakania. Since Isolde and her were already close, Kakania didn’t even notice the way she lacked other friends or human interaction. Later after they graduated, Kakania had already heard of the concepts of mental health resources from others, and decided to become a psychiatrist. From there, Kakania heard about Laplace’s education programs, and as an arcanist who would already have ties to the Foundation in the future, she decided to go to them. Isolde, who wanted to stay with Kakania, convinced Mr Dittarsdorf to send her as well for a degree in fine arts when Kakania got a scholarship. (After her first semester, Isolde was also given a full-ride scholarship for her talent).

✰.

Kakania began to struggle in college after seeing the community in Laplace between students and the staff. (Laplace has a separate building for college and the actual research center.) Kakania would struggle because she was friends with Isolde and only Isolde for years, and Isolde never held Kakania to the expectations of a healthy friendship. Isolde had been in love with Kakania since they first locked eyes, so she never held her to the same expectation of care or consideration that Isolde would show her. Isolde saw everything Kakania did under rose tinted glasses to the point that she didn’t care about her being pushy or careless with her. Meanwhile Kakania didn’t even know what area of the campus Isolde took classes in until she had offered to meet her so Kakania could do a mock therapy session for class. Kakania would remember people's birthdays, but she'd never ask about their hobbies or their experiences in life until it was something she was personally interested in. If Isolde got a cat, Kakania wouldn't know until she went into Isolde’s part of the house because she was doing an interview for her psych class. Despite living together, their friendship also matched the way it did when they were kids at opposite ends of the neighborhood. 

Kakania began to struggle more and more socially when people would cut her off from seemingly nowhere according to her. Meanwhile Isolde formed a small group of friends with Tooth Fairy, Jiu, and Windsong before she met Tooth Fairy’s juniors from the SPDM’s Guidance Program: Medicine Pocket and Mesmer Jr. Isolde would always keep a level of distance between them which Tooth Fairy would notice.

✰.

In their second year, Kakania and Isolde began to get closer than ever because of Kakania’s isolation in her program. No person in her classes or even program would consider Kakania a friend, and the inability to keep a friend began to wear on her. She was able to get through her first year while burying her head into her coursework, but by the start of the second it became too much. It all accumulated into the midterm of their first semester when Isolde suggested they celebrate passing midterms together with a platonic date night in their living room. After ordering takeout using Kakania’s accounts so Mr Dittarsdorf wouldn’t catch Isolde having junk foods, they end up making out. Isolde, who had known she was a lesbian since she was a child, was having her dream relationship with the girl she loved since they met at 15. Meanwhile Kakania, upon her first kiss being a woman, had to reevaluate her entire sexuality and outlook on life, or if she even loved Isolde. By the time the break between semesters was about to start, Kakania realized she didn’t love Isolde and decided to break it off before things got too serious. Naturally, Isolde melts down because unlike Kakania thought, she had loved her, and for a while she had resolved herself to simply be friends with Kakania until she could “fix” her. But after their kiss and dating for months before the semester ended, Isolde realized she couldn’t stay friends anymore. 

✰.

Kakania ended up moving into the student dorms while Isolde stayed with Tooth Fairy for a few weeks while ignoring everything from her phone. Her ignoring calls got to the point that Theopil visited her after class one day because she hadn’t contact anyone since the breakup. (He left only after giving her a gift box she later opened to see full of pounds for when she couldn’t use her credit card without Mr Dittarsdorf finding out). Isolde being forced to actually open up to others after showing up at Tooth Fairy’s apartment the evening of the breakup because she couldn’t go home to Kakania. Even though she’s still in a daze during her time at school, she has the talent to match her grades without trying. Isolde starts to form an outer circle of friends, and Tooth Fairy reassured her that people can be safe while helping her not just switch dependencies from Kakania to her. She starts becoming better friends with Jiu and Windsong, and even Mesmer Jr and Medicine Pocket now that she’s not masking over enjoyment whenever they meet. 

✰.

Kakania starts to feel the absence of Isolde in her life even more as she’s left alone. Now that she’s thinking about Isolde actively, she realizes all the unhealthy things she did with her while Kakania didn’t notice. She starts to reflect on the way that she was also dependent on Isolde as her rock to reassure her that her actions were right. Without her, and the way things were going in her social life, Kakania was at a total loss of how to move forward. 

Kakania started the new semester in a daze, but can’t keep up with schoolwork just off of groundbreaking talent. Eventually, her counselor meets with her to tell her how she’s in danger of losing her scholarship and it manages to snap her out of it just enough to go to a tutoring club. With her delusions of grandeur shattered, she meets Blonney, Horropedia, and An-An Lee. Three film majors with two as double majors for mechanical engineering and cultural studies. Kakania, who is quick to make friends but never keeps them, makes fast friends with the study group. But with Blonney, she started getting actual feedback about her treatment of others. Kakania is a lot of things, but she sees the way Blonney is never mean to anyone who hasn’t deserved it. So when Blonney starts checking her for the careless way she treats people, she has no choice but to listen. Even worse, Kakania starts to realize how little she knew about Isolde, despite the decade they knew one another, or the fact the entire campus thought they were the ideal couple during their 2 months of dating.

✰.

After their last semester starts, Kakania wants to see Isolde but realizes she didn’t know where her main classes would be. The only class she does know the location of was a prerequisite from a year ago. As Kakania starts spiraling farther, she realizes how much she didn't know about Isolde. But Tooth Fairy and Jiu are like Medicine Pocket, once they’ve made a friend they know need extra security, they’re a guard dog. Medicine Pocket is the type to bite on sight to harass someone to go away, but Tooth’s disappointment is like a knife to those who upset her. So to someone like Kakania who brushes off aggressive people as without sense meets their match with someone like Tooth Fairy. Kakania can brush off someone like Medicine Pocket even if they have good points purely off of being aggressive out of the gate, but for Tooth Fairy she can’t help but deflate while trying to ask about Isolde’s schedule to meet her. Tooth Fairy barely holding back a fist when she tells Kakania that she needs to reevaluate how good a friend she even was to Isolde because people like Kakania need to heal on their own through feedback from others, but people like Isolde need community support to assure her she isn’t alone in her struggle.

✰.

By the time they graduated, Kakania went back up to full honors, but she knew that while she was smart she had to get there from her own efforts instead of believing she was a genius. One of Kakania’s teacher gives her a recommendation letter for a counselor position in the SPDM, and she accepts. Meanwhile, Isolde was cutting off the Dittarsdorf name. After she opened up to others, one of the first things Windsong recommended was to change her home address to Tooth Fairy’s long before diplomas were sent out.

✰.

Kakania spends the next 5 years working as a counselor for the SPDM and learning how to work with the mental health of teens. While working together with Tooth Fairy for long enough to gain a friendly understanding with, she doesn’t learn about Isolde’s whereabouts even though she knows Blonney and Horropedia are friends with Tooth. Most of the time she gets to know Isolde is ok, and very rarely she’ll learn a tidbit about what she’s doing. When she sees of the Dittarsdorfs’ death in the newspapers, Kakania considers going, but she decides against it because Isolde had never reached out to her to reconnect. Luckily for her, Kakania stayed back just in time to receive a job offer from a famous institute for the research of mental health. 

Isolde was busy with her music and career as a singer. During her time in school she found she enjoyed jazz over opera, so she’d work gigs around town with both, and after Windsong showed her how she started uploading songs online too. 

Then Isolde received news of her father and mother’s death and the date for the funeral alongside it. After talking with her friends she decided to go if only to see Theopil again. She arrived a month before the funeral began to help and sort her business with the house. The month went by quickly as the funeral proceeded with Theopil alongside a few close family friends (Mr Karl barred from entering). Theopil was driving her to the train station home before the crash happened, and Isolde had another funeral to plan. As the last person with the Dittarsdorf name along with being in an accident, Isolde was forced to stay even longer, and with the legal rights to the house she stayed in her childhood home. After Theopil’s funeral ended Isolde still stayed in the house to figure out what to do with it, and before she knew it a year had passed. By then she had sold everything in the house that wasn’t of sentimental value or furniture before turning it over to the city as a historical museum following the Dittarsdorf line. Despite her hiatus from singing in person consistently, Isolde got an invitation to the US to become a singer in a well-respected jazz club, so she decided to begin her story of tomorrow in the States.

✰.

Over the next decade, Kakania worked her way up the corporate ladder in the research institute in the same way Isolde worked her way up to be a household name. While working at the research institute, as people try to get to know her, Kakania begins to have gender and sexuality crisis number two when they try to set her up with other people. Kakania never knew about Isolde’s shift into jazz because she couldn’t bear listening to her songs after realizing how much she had hurt her alongside how she realized she had loved her all this time. By the time she had turned 32, Kakania decided to focus more on children's mental health so that someone like Isolde would never go without help again. She especially focused on getting rid of the stigma that therapy meant there was a problem in order to have more children of affluent families sent to therapy. Before she knew it, Kakania was 35 and considered one of the top therapists in Europe for teens. Then she was invited to a national summit for her expertise in New York planned for right after her 36th birthday.

✰.

When she arrived for the week long convention, Kakania couldn't help but feel homesick. Despite not going home to Vienna for years, there was a difference between being a day’s trip away and being an entire ocean away. After hearing about the chance to find different cultures she could find in New York, she asked around if anyone had heard of a place to get Viennese food. From there she found out about a certain jazz bar nearby that had a live band during dinners, food from all over Austria, and a live singer on weekends who was supposedly the reason many people stayed in the hotel in the first place. The first time Kakania goes she ends up crying the first time she has dinner there after her conference panels from a mix of stress building up and homesickness. Kakania begins to eat there every day for the entire week the summit lasts, even ordering lunch from the bar when she has the chance between meetings. She even decided to stay later in the US, and catch a Saturday morning flight instead of pushing herself by leaving the second the convention ended. As she was enjoying dinner the lights went off as the stage crew announced the jazz club’s performer would be coming on shortly, and as Kakania readied herself to see her first performance in America, she saw someone she never stopped thinking about for the first time in years.

✰.

Fun Facts about them in the story:

Kakania got through the first year and a half of college through her good memory, but she learned in her last semester while struggling that it only works when she’s tuned in. If she doesn’t pay attention to someone’s words, her good memory with them means nothing.

Tooth is in college in order to get another certification, her degree only took 2 years because she was only a part time student in order to continue working at the SPDM.

The entire Dittarsdorf family showed up to Isolde’s graduation, but Evangeline praised her as Trista in front of Windsong and Vila, and Mr Dittarsdorf quickly left early to escort Evangeline out. Theopil stayed for an hour meeting her friends before handing her another chunk of cash “just in case.”

Isolde spent 2 months out of the year she spent back home transcribing Trista and Theopil’s lullaby into music sheets and online recordings of it so they could be played in the house even though they had passed.

Kakania’s therapist scolds her frequently for ignoring her own signs of stress, and the way she pushes herself too far to help others.

[alaskan-wallflower]

things i loved on my second reread of the outsiders since eighth grade (mostly the curtis bros because i love them)

ponyboy is fucking hilarious

darry looks ‘just like the curtis’ dad but acts the exact opposite’

darry instantly regretted smacking ponyboy

darry likes being teased by soda

soda ‘looks like a greek god’ (greek mythology hyperfixation went off + new art refs!!)

soda thoroughly enjoys the feeling of being in love

pony is the heaviest smoker out of the curtis brothers, soda only smokes to look tuff and darry is too proud of his body to smoke

darry is 6’2’’ and his muscles are like ‘oversized baseballs’ according to pony

soda’s nickname used to be pepsicola

soda calls ponyboy honey and darry calls him baby (i swear if i get an anon saying this is anything but platonic im gonna jump off a building)

soda had a horse named mickey mouse that he had to give away

pony and soda both cried at their parents funeral but darry just stuffed his hands in his pockets and wore a ‘helpless pleading look’

the gang refers to darry as superman

darry works two jobs and makes good at both

all three curtis’ have gigantic appetites and darry cooked two chickens before the rumble because of it

soda hates when his brothers fight

darry used to be super close to his dad

when darry saw ponyboy it was (supposedly) the first time pony had seen him cry in ages

the end of chapter 6 where pony got reunited with his brothers ohmygosh that was my favorite part of the whole book

even darry wouldn’t wanna get into a fight with dally

darry would be a soc if it weren’t for the gang

darry was voted boy of the year and was on a football scholarship

darry checks all of pony boy’s math assignments to make sure he’s doing them right

darry full naming pony when he caught him smoking in bed made me laugh

pony has almost red hair (another reason why i like the musical pony over movie pony)

pony hates most people with green eyes

soda has warm brown eyes that can go from happy and cheerful to blazing with anger in a second

darry would be really good looking if it wasn’t for his cold eyes

johnny’s scar goes from his cheek to his temple and it’s really hard to look at

darry is harder on pony than his parents were out of fear that pony’s gonna throw away the same opportunities that he had before his parents died

pony is a grammar police

soda is really bad at spelling

dally’s death was actually an assisted suicide (i didn’t catch into this when i was in eighth grade)

darry doesn’t like movies

two bit and steve got kicked out a church for horsing around once (i think it was them, idk)

darry and paul used to be best friends

ponyboy felt really bad because he didn’t think he asked for darry enough when he was sick

it was kind of implied darry feels that pony favors soda and vice versa

soda and darry tickle ponyboy out of bed in the morning

[spac3d0lls]

my penny lamb headcanons from post-rtc because i wanted to write a fic but have no time or motivation:

-penny took shifts at the blackwood cafe as well as many different odd jobs around town so that her and ezra would be able to leave uranium after she graduates. being her senior year, penny knew that she couldn’t live with the foster family for much longer, but simultaneously wanted to give ezra a sense of permanence and stability. while she worked at the cafe, the blackwood family would always send her home with a big bag of leftover sweets, knowing that her and ezra only got the bare minimum at their foster home. every so often, penny would find evidence of constance’s history there, whether it be photos on the mantle or experimental recipes taped to the back of cupboards in handwriting that obviously wasn’t mr. or mrs. blackwood’s, decked out in stickers of rainbows and unicorns.

-penny ended up growing close to ricky’s family. i headcanon that ricky was going to ask penny out after the cyclone (despite not knowing her name, in true ricky fashion,) but for obvious reasons never gave it to her. after he died, they found the note in ricky’s pocket and his parents gave it to penny, and told her she was welcome at their home if she ever needed anything. being a lonely girl and an animal lover, she would come over and feed the cats after school and his parents, who broke their vow of silence after ricky passed, would tell her stories about who their son was in life. they laughed through explanations of zolar, and penny didn’t have the heart to tell them they weren’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, but they showed her all the art that he made as a budding comic book illustrator. they taught her how to draw, and although her drawings of animals weren’t as….freaky as ricky’s (😭) it turned into a lifelong hobby for her.

-when penny was well enough to come back to school again, she would help organize a fundraiser that they hoped to turn into a tradition—founding a scholarship in ocean’s name. what this fundraiser was changed every year after penny graduated, but her first year it was rather small—a bake sale, with sweets donated by the blackwoods (eventually, a small portion of all purchases made at the blackwood cafe would go to the scholarship fund.) ocean’s final act of charity was bringing back penny, and she wanted to pay it forward in a way that ocean would have wanted. i personally headcanon that ocean wasn’t intentionally a bad person in life, but a product of neglect, desperate for attention, and misguided. she didn’t express it in her words, but she was always looking to help the community in whatever way she could.

-penny was the one who reached out to talya after misha had passed. remembering from purgatory that misha didn’t communicate with his adoptive parents and knowing that the relationship he had with his gang in uranium was superficial at best, she found talya through the comments under an old badegg video and broke the news to her. talya asked penny if they could call, as she needed someone to process her emotions to and nobody in her life thought misha was real either, and scoffed at the fact that she talked to her boyfriend online. penny reassured her that even though she couldn’t tell talya exactly how she knew it, talya was the person that misha was thinking about as he was dying and that he loved her very, very much, and wished desperately that he could have said goodbye to her. talya was inconsolable after that, but she stayed in touch with penny for years after the accident and the two became very close friends.

-noel’s mother was penny’s nurse at the hospital (cr for the idea goes to “are we ever going back” on ao3 by lynncanigula.) ms. gruber was the one who ended up suing the fair, and penny ended up testifying to the negligence of the fair for her. she ended up giving penny the money that noel was going to use to move to france as compensation. penny ended up donating the money to a queer helpline.

[ash5monster01]

Dead Poets Society College Headcanon’s

Todd

NYU.

Was nervous as hell, more nervous than when he attended Welton. There was something more intimidating about not only a big school but a big city. It wasn’t until he joined a poetry club & made a few friends did he finally come into his own.

Charlie

Columbia.

Much to his father’s surprise he was still able to attend an ivy league and even though the last thing Charlie wanted to be was a business man, he dove head first into it anyway. Made sure he got good grades just to prove his father wrong. That’s not to say he didn’t also lean into the partying aspect of it either. In class he was focused, outside of it he was just a kid dreaming of a free world in a beret.

Knox

Harvard.

Cried when he had to leave Chris. Still did his best though because he liked the idea of a big new school. That didn’t stop him from calling and writing her every chance he got. Made new friends in his law classes and by senior year he kept an engagement ring in his pocket. The day he graduated he went and got the girl.

Cameron

Princeton.

Found he was extremely scared and wasn’t sure he could make new friends. Since majority of the boys at Welton didn’t talk to him anymore he figured he was too unlikeable. Thankfully his roommate ended up being a great guy. Cameron would help him with homework and in return he’d drag Cameron to any social events. He graduated top of his class and one of the most liked boys in school. It was very healing.

Meeks & Pitts

Yale.

The minute they were both accepted they put in a request to be roommates. Meeks ended up becoming Captain of the AV club and Pitts was at the top of his engineering classes. For fun Meeks got into dancing. Pitts tried to join but failed miserably so he discovered an art club he thoroughly enjoyed. Stayed best friends through it all and graduated together.

Neil if he lived

Harvard.

Much to his dismay his father got his way and landed him a full ride scholarship to Harvard. It's his first time seeing Knox since the night of the play because he got sent to military school. Knox hates the way his head looks shaved, makes Neil look much more trapped.

Yet as the years pass and his hair grows back, Neil finds his father unable to stop him from performing in the plays at school. Knox makes sure all the boys know so they can travel it they want to come.

The first time Charlie ever sees Neil again is when the curtains open and he's standing on stage like he's been there all along.

Maybe he had to go to medical school after this but at least he was happy. That's all he ever needed.

[diyasgarden]

Ok so here's an idea I had for me to write about but I'm too busy so it's yours.

Patrick Zweig has always been the bane of your existence at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy. You had earned your place thanks to a scholarship, yet in his eyes, you didn’t belong here. He was determined to make sure you knew it. So, ever since you were a kid, he bullied you to no end, always a shadow over your shoulder.

From name-calling to destroying your equipment, he enjoyed making you, the "beggar" girl, sob over a stupid shattered racket, watch you struggle to get a new one while he could buy twenty with this month's pocket money. No one dared to call him out on his bullshit because he was the academy's tennis prodigy. As the years passed, his friends joined in to torture you. All of them, except the quiet blond boy who followed him behind like a puppy, silently watching you suffer without ever lifting a finger.

One day, you finally snap and talk back, and the bullying escalates to a physical level. He grabs you by the hair, drags you to the locker rooms with the intention to shove your head into the toilet. But just before he can do anything, you punch him in the nuts and he falls to the ground. You seize the moment to straddle him and smack him around, taking all your bottled-up anger on him. As you slap him and throw insults, you feel him growing hard beneath you. And before you know it, the anger turns into something else, and you're making out with him in the middle of the room.

The next day, he corners you, threatening to kill you if you tell anyone. But before you can even respond, his mouth is on yours. You start hooking up behind closed doors while he continues to make your life hell at the academy. You’re his plaything, and you let him do anything he wants with you because deep down you think you aren't worth a thing. One day, he discovers Art’s crush on you, and he loses it. How could anyone be interested in anyone as disgusting as you? Surely not him, right?

(Of course, they're of age when it gets kinky.)

Think of this as the trailer....ITS COMING

edit: ITS UP!!! READ HERE

[anyataylorsoy]

I would love to know five facts about a hellcheer art school AU 🥰

several days later

1) I think Eddie would probably be a traditional media artist, like illustration. He would be working on his own graphic novel. Chrissy would be more into textiles and she’d tell her mother that she was going to school for fashion, but really she’s making a giant quilt of her mental health journey for the school exhibition 💕

2) Eddie would be paying for school by doing various odd jobs including posing for the art classes, playing guitar in a church’s band on Sundays, and working in a retirement home cafeteria. Chrissy volunteers at the retirement home for her scholarship program and she waits until class to tell Eddie that she noticed him: “you look much better without the hairnet.”

3) Obviously, Corroded Coffin still exist in this universe, and they play in a seedy bar with an alleyway entrance on Tuesday nights. It’s popular amongst the college kids, though, because happy hour is $2 drafts. Eddie finally gets the nerve to invite Chrissy to come see them play. She unfortunately has a panic attack in throngs of drunks and goes home. Eddie shows up to her apartment after the show with his guitar: “I believe I promised you a song.” He doesn’t even get to the chorus before Chrissy is in his arms.

4) Chrissy’s mom finds out she isn’t doing fashion design and is “wasting her life” on an art degree and stops paying for the other half of Chrissy’s tuition. Eddie gets her a job as a barback at the bar. Eventually, the bartender teaches her how to make drinks during the slow times and she gets a promotion. She demands they give Corroded Coffin the prime Friday night spot.

5) They eventually find a converted warehouse apartment and move in together in their senior year. Chrissy’s completed quilt hangs on their wall and Eddie has stacks of his comic book on the coffee table waiting to be sent off to publishers. They’re hosting Wayne for thanksgiving, nothing is going right, but they’re on the third bottle of wine and having a grand time. Wayne’s brought Eddie his grandmother’s wedding ring and it’s burning a hole in Eddie’s pocket, but he’s waiting until Christmas. …or at least the Macy’s day parade.

send more AUs, maybe?

[deliciousangelfestival]

My Problematic Girl - Chapter 1

Character: College!Steve Rogers x Rich!Female Reader

Prologue:  Steve has lived being nobody in this prestigious university. He just wants to graduate and get a job to get more money to pay the bills for his mother's surgery. 

But his life turned upside when a new student attended his class. His quiet and dull life became dangerous and full of surprises.

×××

She exhaled the cigarette smoke from her lips. She still doesn’t care even though he told her he has asthma. 

She looked at Steve and said, “Bark for me.”

Steve felt humiliated, and his pride was crushed. But she held his life and secrets. He had to bury his dignity to the ground, and he murmured, 

“Woof.”

******

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me. 

If you want to be tagged in this series, please tell me.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi

Pine trees, old gates, red bricks, this is the same view Steve saw every day for the past two years at Stark University he attended as an art student. 

He always remembered the moment he got a scholarship and was accepted to this prestigious university. 

It was the first time he felt alive. 

He thought when his problem with tuition had been solved, he could enjoy being a university student compared to high school. 

But it turned out to be the same. Every student here is super rich; they come to uni with their sports car, or their driver drives them to uni. 

They live differently from Steve, who has to work different types of part-time jobs to get more money and pay hospital bills for his mother. 

On the first day of class, the way rich kids look at Steve when they see him walk into the class, they know he doesn’t have the same life standards as them. 

Steve tried to be friendly with them; they were nice at first. But he realised they were using his talents to do their work. They treat him like, ‘It’s a privilege to hang out with us; you should be grateful.’

Since then, Steve decided it was better to be a loner. With only eight months left, he will graduate and no longer have to meet these people. His footsteps stop in front of the class door. 

"Did you watch the game last night?"

"You bet, and guess what? I sat with the club owner."

“Girls, my dad got us the ticket for that concert.”

That’s what Steve heard every day in his class. He couldn’t join the conversation because of his financial status. 

Steve took the headphones from his pockets and put them on his ears. No one even bothered to say Hi when he walked into the classroom. 

That’s good because if one of his classmates greets him, they want Steve to do their work. It’s better to be invisible or a wallflower. 

He went to his table, dropped the old canvas backpack, and took out the sketchbook. 

Since Steve was a kid, drawing was the only way for him to escape from reality. He forgot how his abused father, sick mother and snobby classmates were.

While drawing, Steve heard one of the female students start gossiping. One of the nice perks of being invisible, he could get a lot of gossip in this university.

“My father met the chancellor yesterday and heard a new student will join this class.”

“Before one semester to graduate? That’s unbelievable, but how?”

“I heard she’s close with Tony Stark. I guess one of his young girlfriends?”

“No, euuh.”

All the gossipers start laughing like they are better than anyone. But Steve agreed with one thing, what kind of person could attend a class last semester?

Suddenly the class door opened, and it was Prof. Abraham Erskine; before he walked into the room, he turned back and signalled, ‘Wait’. 

He put his documents on his table and looked at his students. “Guys, you have new friends. Please be nice to her, alright?” 

“Yeah.”

“Perfect.” Prof.Erskine clapped his hands once and waved his hand towards the person behind the door. “Come in.”

The rumour is true; a new student is joining the class. 

Everyone could see her arrogant attitude when she walked into the room. 

But the way she dressed from head to toe took the attention of every female student. 

One of the females who sat in front of Steve whispered to her friend, “Did she wear those shoes to class, and that watch… cost more than this class tuition.”

“Who is she? If she were in the socialite club, I would’ve known.”

“Her name is Y/N L/N; starting today, she will study with us until last semester.” Prof.Erskine looked at Y/N and said, “Please be nice and don’t make trouble in my class.” 

Everyone gasped when they heard their Professor beg this one student. 

“Shit, she’s that bit*h.”

Steve turned to one male student who immediately closed his mouth. 

“Who?”

“Remember that chaotic night at the H club? She kicked one of the guests to the table. She didn’t even apologise and continued her drink.”

“Ohh, I heard a drunk guy won't leave the female guest. She kinda helps the victim.”

"I remember she went to the same school as me. She kicked a teacher to the window and threw the table at him."

"She didn't get in any trouble?"

“Her father is the CEO of a Law Firm."

"Her parents gave her a penthouse, and I heard she always held amazing parties."

"That's cool. We should ask her later to hang out with us."

Steve shook his head; how fast their opinion changed when they knew she had money.  

Prof. Erskine didn’t bother with his students, who kept whispering. He told Y/N, “You could sit near the window with that boy. His name is Steve.”

Y/N nodded and went to the chair where the Professor pointed his finger. Everyone in the class stops talking and watches her whenever she walks. Their eyes are looking in Steve's direction. 

Their gaze made him nervous; today was not his lucky day. He lowered his head and continued sketching. 

Nothing happened when she sat beside him. Steve thought he had to greet and introduce himself. But it’s unnecessary because she grabs a tablet and wireless headphones and starts playing games. 

Everyone widened their eyes; the audacity of her being impolite and arrogant was on another level.

What Steve had in mind, ‘Ah, another rich kid.’

Professor Erskine didn’t even bother; he opened his laptop and set up the projector. “We will continue the study of Leonardo Da Vinci of his … … …”

Steve looked to the front,t but then he glanced at the new student. Before, she played games, and now she reads online comic books.

'Wait, did she read it from that website?'

She looked at him and caught him off guard. Steve nodded his head and looked back to the front. His face felt hot because that was embarrassing.

After the class ended, the first person who stood up after the Professor left was Y/N. A few people tried to approach her, but Y/N replied to them by saying, "Get lost."

Steve was confused; on the first day, Y/N had started to make an enemy. She could quickly join the clique if she wanted to, but it doesn’t seem like she cares.

‘Bzzt.’

Steve opened the message on his phone that said, “New 24 pages. Do you want to take the job?”

He immediately typed, “Yes.” It's an offer for extra money; Steve wouldn't say no. 

“Steve, I have to talk about your final project.” Professor. Erskine asked him. For their final, every student has to make an exhibition. Usually, universities will provide a warehouse for students. 

But now their curriculum has changed; the uni wants the students to find the place for their exhibition independently. 

Almost all the students have no problem with this except Steve. He couldn't even afford his rent. How can he get money to rent a place just for one day? 

That's why Prof. Erskine asked Steve about a sponsor. 

“Have you found the sponsor?" 

"Not yet, sir."

Steve gulped, he wanted to ask, but he didn't know anyone willing to give their money to sponsor an art student.

Prof. Erskine sighed. "I hope you will find a sponsor during the winter break, Steve. I know you will." He carried all his stuff and left the classroom. 

Steve sighed heavily; he wished he knew one person with money. 

Then he saw the new student, Y/N, looking at his sketchbook. He grabbed the book from her hand. 

“Ah, sorry.” He wanted to scold her, but Steve didn’t expect her to apologise. He put the sketchbook into his bag and gathered all his stuff to leave. 

“Wait.”

Steve's body stopped when he heard that. Then he saw Y/N grabbed her wallet and took an old photo. She shows it to him. It's a small photo in black and white colour, the paper also being crumpled or folded many times. When he saw it, he noticed the woman in the photo looked like Y/N. 

“Could you draw her to be 40 years old? In this photo, she’s 25 years old. I saw your drawing. The way you do the shadow and wrinkles is nice.”

Steve doesn't know how to feel since he never got a compliment from his classmates. 

“You won’t do it for free, of course. I will pay for it. Please?”

Steve takes a good look at her face. When she talks like this, it doesn’t seem like the same person from the class. And she asked nicely, and she was willing to pay. 

“Ok.”

“Great, I will give you the deposit first.” She took $200 hundred from her pocket and handed it to Steve's hands. 

His hands tremble because his drawing would only cost around $75. This money is enough to pay for groceries for a month. 

"Uhm, it's too much." Steve felt guilty if he took the money. He handed back the money to her. 

His act made Y/N quiet for a while; he thought she was mad at him, and she probably felt offended, but instead, she said, "No, for her, it's worth it."

When she said those words, Steve could feel the sadness in her voice. He doesn't know the meaning behind the story, but he will do his best to draw the photo. 

"I will finish this in 3 days."

"That fast?"

Her question made him curious, is she an art student? 

"Are you-?" 

"Y/N!!!"

Before Steve asks her, someone yells her name. He turned back and saw the chancellor of Stark University, Tony Stark. 

It's difficult to meet him, even though there are only two places to find him: the engineering lab or a nightclub. He's a famous playboy but also a genius. 

So, to make him come by to this building is fantastic. And he's here for Y/N. 

Is the rumour true that she's Tony's side chick?

"Nice to meet you, Steve. See you tomorrow."  Y/N smiled at Steve and went to Tony. 

He saw both of them walking together. Perhaps the rumour may be true. 

Steve shook his head; it was not even his business. He should go home quickly and start drawing since he got two jobs today. 

When he gets home, he turns on his old PC, grabs his drawing tablet and opens the storyboard he received. 

Steve clicked his tongue; as a freelance artist, he can't say no to his client, but his morals get tested every time he gets a new storyboard from the client. 

His work is drawing for Hentai comics. Some people see this as disgusting, but some people will like it. And Steve works with the people who are willing to pay. He will receive any request from the website called www.readwithme.com

This is the biggest secret he kept if anyone from the university knew his work. He could get dropped out. He even kept it from his best friend, Bucky. 

He carefully picks a secret name and uses another email so no one will figure him out. His ID is VioletDust18. 

Many people have read his works and subscribed to the story. He doesn't get paid much, but it's enough to pay the bills and rent...

He already got the rough sketch and opened the reference to start drawing. Steve didn't feel aroused when he looked at the photo or storyboard.

When the clock showed 9.00 p.m, Steve finished three pages. He stopped when he felt hungry. He opened up his wallet and saw $200. Today he will order a food delivery to treat himself, and tomorrow, he will buy groceries. 

Suddenly Y/N appeared in his mind. He is grateful that she pays more than enough. But one thing that worries him is that she opens the website with Steve’s artwork. 

She seems like not an art student. She probably wouldn't notice. 

Yeah, it's better if she didn't notice, and after he's done with her request, she will ignore him.

Thank you for reading. I hope you like it.

If you have any feedbacks or want to join the tagged list, you can tell me.

I will always be grateful for those who reblog. Thank you so much.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

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Join the tag list :

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[p-erse-phone]

Losing Focus - Profiles

- 00 : Thot Pocket

bunniyn: Choi Y/N Performing Arts major, studying piano. Scholarship student

anggmi: Choi Sangmi Music Major, studying music creation and production, Y/N's cousin.

ggyubeom: Beomgyu Music Major, studying singing, Sangmi's parents and his parents are good friends. So, Sangmi and in turn y/n's childhood friend.

sunsunoo: Sunoo Music Major, studying singing. Established beauty and wellness youtuber/influencer.

defnotyn: Y/N's priv

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[wishmaster]

Body Swap 72 Client 1A

Diego was just a normal college jock going to school on a football scholarship, who was looking for a way to make extra cash, when he heard about a program that allowed you to rent your body out to anyone for a minimum of 72 hours

being impatient Diego disregarded the fine print which allowed the occupier to do whatever they wish in that period of time.

He immediately signed up unaware his life would change so much in the next few days

With $5000 in his pocket he went to the place where he'd surrender himself to the new temporary owner. As per the agreement, the renter would take control of the body while Diego would spend the next 72 hours in the renter's body. Both had free reign over the others life with the caveat that the body possessor would feel any differences between the two bodies.

Enter Marcus , a tatoo artist by day and a sex crazed only fans performer by night. He loved shiny clothes and ink as well as piercings. But lately he wanted to see how the other half lived, wanting to spend time in a hetero male with a great body, a body maybe he could help mold. When Marcus became Diego he could feel the power and inside. a rush hit he could feel the muscles form, as if Marcus had done all the work to gain his body.

Diego had a similar experience but what he felt was the burning of his skin as every tattoo and piercing was experienced by him all at once.

Both immediately became aroused, as much as Marcus wanted to fuck his own body, Diego was straight so Marcus thought, so there was no attraction for now. Diego felt the latex become strained by Marcus monster dick, he reached down to touch it, impressed that such a small looking dude was so well endowed.

they'd go their separate ways for the next 72 hours, neither knowing what would happen till then. Diego headed to his temporary home as was part of the contract where he found a house full of leathers, latex and cameras all lined up for him to film. Marcus knew his body could not resist no matter who was in charge. He changed into another outfit. and the body seemed to take over, grabbing a pack of smokes, something Diego never touched in his old life.

He became a leather master, rock hard, his balls begging for release as the door bell range and a parade of young men came through for the next few days as he filmed sex scene after sex scene, the usually straight guy seemed to take to gay sexy quite easily, perhaps he was bi after all.. He wondered what Marcus was up to in his body?

As Diego's time flew by he became more of a dominate alpha and he was coming to embrace and enjoy his new body and life.

Before he knew it he felt something tugging at him, you see when the time was up each party reverted to their own body, no matter were they werr, special things needed to happen. Suddenly Diego was thrusted back into his old body, he was facing a mirror, the reflection showing what was to come for him. The pain, he felt the same pain as when he became Marcus. all over his body, but why? It soon became clear.

What the hell? He said aloud as he saw his neck and face tattooed and his ears and nose pierced. He stumbled back to reveal more changes had happened to himself.

His ripped body was inked up and his wardrobe had been replacde by harnesses and tight leather pants. His dick rock hard and on display under the leather. He found a letter:

Dear Diego, welcome to your new life, you can thank me later, I got you off that damn scholarship and made your body more of a work of art, you now work at the Black Cycle bar downtown where when you're not tending bar or dancing naked for crowds your a cum slut for all the Leather Daddies. Your welcome, your friend Marcus, PS: Thanks for the canvas.

In away Diego now had a very similar life to Marcus, except he'd no longer be the dominant Alpha, instead he was destined to live life as a lonely Bitch Boy. Diego would be able to Thank himself during his Next Shift.

Another Satisfied Swap from us.

[cyberneticnightmares]

okay listen.

i like to think that william inherited the purple car from his old man. you know how it was back in the 70s. cars lasted and often got passed down from father to son (SYMBOLISM). he hated the damn thing, but it's what first caught henry's attention one day while on campus. henry drove a much newer car.

while william went to college solely on scholarships courtesy of his smarts and obscenely high GPA, henry's parents footed their son's bill because they could afford it.

"how can a couple of hippies afford to send their kid to school for art?"

"double majoring, actually. dipping my toes into business too."

william hates him for it. it's just so unfair that henry can afford to dress nice but doesn't, because he much rather walk around in comfortable overalls covered in paint. he hates him even more when henry discovers a passion for computers and makes the jump to engineering, almost as a way to compliment william's knack for robotics. william hates him because no, why would you do that, you have no idea what i would've give to be allowed to simply do performance arts. he took after his mom, after all. would've been a professional dancer if his dad had allowed it.

but then one day, because they totally hate each other or whatever, and because their final round of finals before graduation are coming up, henry proposes they skip town. they already got all the technical know-how they needed. who needs a flimsy piece of paper to tell them what they achieved over the past four years?

william takes some convincing. there's a bunch of expectations on his shoulders now. fancy degree, a good paying job, a girl to bring home and follow in his father's wretched footsteps. he can't just... drop it all and run for the hills with his not-friend, right? the not-friend who's always covering his meals and getting him nice flamboyant jackets every birthday and christmas (most of them handmade, of course, really high quality stuff).

henry tells him it's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask permission. "just give it a try, man. imagine if we do get successful. imagine we make it." but what convinces william is the fervor with which henry speaks, the way he looks at him, as if it's just them against the world and they're winning the lottery and nothing could ever go wrong so long as they're side by side.

william abandons his father's car in a lot the following week, hitching a ride out west on henry's fancy car. it's a convertible, by the way. cherry red. some of the best memories william has, after it all goes to shit, is of henry lowering the hood in the middle of the night along a long stretch of dusty, deserted highway. a bug flies into his mouth at some point because he was too busy singing along to the 8-track, but the way henry laughed at his sputtering made it all worth it.

he keeps a polaroid from that roadtrip safe in his pocket, even after everything is said and done.

[maskedemerald]

Weaving Webs CH10

Here is chapter ten of my Invisobang fic! We finally get to some Vlad. He'll be more involved in the second fic in the series so don't worry you'll see more of his scheming.

The wonderful @pricklenettle did some fantastic art that you'll see embedded through out the first half of the fic so if you haven't seen it go check out their blog now!

You can check out the fic here or on AO3!

If you like this consider dropping us both a follow!

Warnings: Body horror, manipulation, Spectra is her own content warning, Burns, Spider - for like 2 chapters then it goes away.

The Fenton parents were there when the accident happened, they saw Danny die in an act of sabotage. Now they’re just trying to go on with the strange ghost that is all that's left of Danny. While their old college friend is wondering where the subjects of his revenge are.

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Vlad had been waiting for this day for years, the day he would finally get his revenge. He couldn’t help the smug smirk on his face. Every step was planned. Nothing would go wrong. There wasn’t anything he hadn’t considered. Not like the last time. Nothing had happened. Apparently he’d acted a little too late in that fit of rage. A little too far into the portal’s production. A little bit of insidious code that would never trigger because Jack would never tidy up his prior work. This time would be different.

The reunion plan had been in progress ever since the idea of having one was even approached by some other alumni. It was the perfect opportunity. He would have Jack and Maddie in a space completely under his control. He would overshadow Jack and humiliate him for everyone to see. Then he’d see about doing away with the fool. There would be alcohol and well it wouldn’t be improbable for the man to go for a fatal car ride. Of course Vlad would be there to pick up the pieces with Maddie. The children were of little consequence. He’d take them for Maddie’s sake but well, if they fell too much on Jack’s side of the gene pool a scholarship to some far off boarding school would keep them out of his hair.

He had each step of the day planned down to the moment. He even stood by the door awaiting the arrival of the pair. However they didn’t. Jack had been so excited to come early to reconnect and yet they’d not arrived early. Vlad frustratedly threw out many mental pages of his plan that involved getting quiet time to reconnect with Maddie while sowing some seeds of descent and interest before finally offing Jack. He’d have to spend more time after the deed was done. It was fine. He could adapt.

At the reunion itself he eyed the clock as his old classmates tried to talk to him. He doubted many honestly wanted to reconnect. They were after his money. His power from said money. Or something else. Why would anyone talk to him otherwise? It wasn’t like they had before. Each hour that went by had him clenching a fist tighter and trying not to show that growing anger on his face. Hide his hand in a pocket where it couldn’t crack his wine glass. Where were they?

Jack was like an over affectionate puppy. Stupid and bad at personal space. There was no way he would have missed the reunion intentionally. He might have forgotten but that was why Vlad had specifically also invited Maddie. She wouldn’t have forgotten. Then why? Why were they not there? If they had to cancel there would be no way the polite, sweet and considerate Maddie would have not at least called to let him know.

That night once everyone had gone home he let that rage out. All that planning and effort wasted. It had to be Jack’s fault. Maybe he had been given the one basic responsibility of calling him and then forgot that. He threw his more physical plans at the fire. They caught quickly and he had to pause his rampage on the office to keep the stray papers from lighting the bookcases. He took a deep breath. Maybe there was a way to salvage this. Maddie would be so apologetic about missing the event. Jack’s downfall wouldn’t be so public but he could still tear them apart and off Jack. Revenge could still be his.

He waited till morning before picking up the phone. Until he could speak with some level of forced calm. He hoped that it would be Maddie answering. He didn’t want to deal with Jack’s loud incessant apologies for a situation he caused. Even after the wait he didn’t think he could keep his cool if he had to talk to Jack.

The phone rang, it rang for a long time before finally cutting to voicemail. He slammed it down without leaving a message. Not even getting to the beep. Definitely couldn’t handle talking to Jack.

He stewed for a while longer before trying again. Maybe they were just working in that ridiculous basement of theirs and couldn’t hear the phone. He glanced at the clock. The children might answer this time. They wouldn’t be in the basement he assumed. One of them could get Maddie. He tried to remember what he knew of them. A boy and a girl. The girl would probably be easier to deal with. She no doubt would be intelligent and cooperative. He dialed the number. It rang.

Click, “Fentonworks!” Jack’s recorded voice bellowed, “We’re either in the lab or hunting a GHOST right now! Leave a message and we’ll get back to you!”

He scowled and hung up again, wincing at the loud, obnoxious recording of Jack. The children are probably out. He can wait. He’s been waiting 20 years, a few more hours would be fine. The phone cracked in his grip.

Another phone and a few hours later when surely the family would be sitting down to eat their dinner he called again. His fingers tapped on the table. If the wood was softer he would have left small divots with the intensity. There was a small part of him that worried. Not for Jack but that once again they wouldn’t answer. It wondered if there had been another reason for why they hadn’t shown up for the reunion. As the phone rang on he couldn’t help but feel a certain dread. Had something happened? He remembered that previous, spur of the moment, fit of rage attempt. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise? If he’d already offed Jack or at least hospitalised him then there was less to do. Not as sweet as if he had been there as witness but he could still swoop in and pick up the pieces.

The phone clicked over to voicemail again.

Surely a concerned visit from a friend after they missed the reunion wouldn’t look too out of place. He hung up the phone and headed for his car. It wouldn’t do to arrive there too early after the reunion.

As Vlad drove through Amity Park the obnoxiously obvious structure that was Fentonworks started to become visible even streets away. The rooftop abomination of technology was a marker of just how close he was to getting everything he wanted. As he got closer he couldn’t help but feel something was off. The imposing aura of a ghostly presence. Cold, intimidating and clearly saying for any other ghosts to stay away. A taste of fear the closer he got.

The streets were mostly clear and nobody lingered long near the house. He pulled up and brushed off the feeling before heading for the door. The ghost was clearly trying to take control of the area but it was nothing in comparison to him. He knocked.

There was a long silence. He couldn’t help but notice the curtains were drawn in every window. He knocked again, louder. Still nothing. Maybe they were just out. He slammed a fist against the door.

“Looking for those loony scientists?” A man asked pausing on the street. He shivered and muttered. “Jeas this place gives me the right heebie jeebies.”

Vlad turned putting a false smile on his face. “Ah yes I am. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are?”

The man shrugged. “Haven’t seen them out much lately, hell I think I’ve only seen the daughter. Surprisingly quiet that lot since the accident.”

“Accident? What kind of accident?” Vlad asked, that could mean anything. He needed to know how bad things were.

“Hell if I know.” The man shrugged, he glanced uncomfortably at the house before walking off.

Vlad looked at the house, the house was the source of the aura. Had they found an actual ghost? Or had the ‘accident’ been more fatal than the man thought. His fist clenched. Fear curled in him. Something happening to Jack he was fine with if a little disappointed over missing it. If something had happened to the children he didn’t mind. However hearing nothing meant that something might have happened to Maddie and that, that scared him.

He sped off, backing up rather more haphazardly than he usually would. His mind kept running through worst case scenarios. Both of them being in the hospital because of the planned malfunction. A worse state if there had been an explosion, Jack could have made it worse easily. The whole lab having gone up in flames. Exploded with no time to escape. The house gutted in one violent explosion taking the whole family with it. All because he messed with the portal without fully planning things out. He parked just around the corner. The window left open as he transformed and phased invisibly through the roof.

The house was dark and unnaturally quiet for a house that Jack Fenton of all people lived in. It was possible that they just were not home but the state of the house threw that into doubt. Inside lay a chaotic scene, the furniture tossed about and broken. Fabric torn and wood splintered. It wasn’t the fiery explosion that he had feared. A ghost attack instead. It soothed his anxieties. He hadn’t accidentally harmed Maddie. However the lack of sign of Maddie was concerning. If the ghost had been bested she would not have left the house like this.

The living room wasn’t much better, no it was worse. Sticky ectoplasm splattered the room like the toxic green had been blasted blindly. Walls were marked with singes. The lab door had been pulled fully off its reinforced hinges. The door was almost completely replaced with ectoplasmic webbing.

He burnt it away, his nose crumpling at the ozone smell of burning ecto. He hoped he’d find nothing down there. That the pair were now at the hospital or something because Jack was injured, just Jack he hoped on the injured front.

The lab was not empty. It was lit by the toxic green light of a portal. A portal that shouldn’t have been active without being set off by his sabotage. His stomach dropped a little. No it had to have been Jack. Wiring was Jack’s job. Maddie wouldn’t have cleaned up after him, right?

The glowing figures of two ghosts were silhouetted by the portal. A figure shifting shapes between spider and a short more human figure drew his attention first. Then to the one that was more shadow than anything else, drinking in the fear and misery that clung to the air.

The emotions were thick in the air. A constant refreshing flow. His eyes fell on the dark cocoons of webs. Four of them. He would have cursed if he didn’t think he would have been heard. He couldn’t leave and risk Maddie having been in one.

He slipped over to the nearest one, he hoped that this one was Maddie. He’d rescue her and then when they were forced to flee from the ghosts attacking then he would still look like the hero while leaving Jack to his fate. He charged a little ecto energy around his hand, using the heat to cut through the threads of the cocoon.

A large weight slumped against him as it tore open. He let the energy vanish from his hand instantly. He stifled a frustrated groan at the sight of Jack’s ridiculously bright orange jumpsuit. The oaf however was not so silent as he stirred.

“Vladdie?” Jack asked with a tone of confusion in his voice.

He scowled, “Jack, please tell me Maddie isn’t here.”

“I don’t know… she got me first.”

“Of course she did.”

“What’s this? An old man playing pretend? You really think you can save them, Mr hero?” He knew that voice.

Vlad scowled. “I should have known.” Spectra. It wasn’t his first encounter with the woman. He detested her.

“Give my family back,” Jack yelled as he charged into the fight with a hastily and foolishly grabbed broken piece of metal.

Vlad scowled, he could leave the oaf to his fate. That would mean leaving Maddie. Jack however could serve as a distraction. It was really all he was good for.

“You really think you can stop me this time, weakened… broken. You’ve already failed your children once.” Spectra taunted.

He slipped to the next cocoon using Jack’s wild attacks as cover. The man didn’t stand a chance but as long as he kept them busy long enough for Vlad to find Maddie then Vlad could let Jack die without revealing his powers. He seared open the pod and there was a moment of relief at the flash of ginger hair as the occupant fell. He caught her. Her long hair cascaded over her face. That wasn’t Maddie. He huffed, at least Maddie would be grateful for the rescue of her daughter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He heard Spectra far too close for his liking.

So much for Jack being a good distraction. A blast seared towards him and instinctively he raised a small shield. The girl was unconscious so it didn’t matter.

“Oh what’s this? The old man’s a freak!” He scowled, like she didn’t already know that.

“Shut up!” he hissed, if she said more it could become a problem.

“You know what they are right? Why would you fight for them? They’re ghost hunters. They’ll hate you. Show you no mercy. What a fool you are.” Spectra taunted in his ear, trying to feed off of the misery she had once pulled out of him.

He growled and blasted her away, her shadowy body gaining a bloody green tear in her side as she was thrown back. He wasn’t fighting for them. Maddie was all who he was interested in. She wouldn’t find out and it wouldn’t ever matter.

Two more pods, close together. 50/50 chance between Maddie and Jack’s son. A green blast seared past, Jack had found a working blaster. Predictably his aim was still terrible. He hoisted the girl over his shoulder before placing her down to break open the next pod.

Maddie stumbled from the pod, she gripped his shirt for stability. There was blood in her hair. “Madeline? Are you alright? We have to get out of here. Jack can only keep them busy so long.”

Even though he had thrown his plans out long ago this impromptu one was going reasonably close to the plan that he was making up as he went. Maddie gained her bearings quickly and found a weapon somewhere on her person to blast the spider that had Jack pinned.

“Vlad? What… never mind.” She shoved a blaster into his hand. “No time, we’ll talk later. Guard Jazz.”

She charged in because of course she would. No matter how much of a useless oaf Jack was, no matter how much of this was probably his fault, Maddie just wasn’t the type to leave someone to fight alone. He loved her but he really found that nobility frustrating right now.

Spectra hovered in front of him with a smirk. “You know she’ll always choose him. Why even stay? Why protect the child? She’s just as much him as she is her, why protect her.”

“I know your tricks.” He knew what she was trying to do.

“True but can you really fend me off with just a blaster while keeping your dirty little secret?” She lunged with claws drawn. She slashed and grabbed for the girl.

There was a sharp electrical whine, and the lights flickered on. Bright and blinding. They exploded in a screech that seemed so much more emotive than anything electronic should ever have. The final pod exploded in a gorey green mess. He winced knowing that could have been Maddie only moments ago. There was a streaking flare of light as another ghost entered the chaos. Green star-like blasts flew. A stray green blast, the origin he didn’t quite catch threw Spectra away from them. Well aimed, probably Maddie.

The third ghost shot round like a comet, the attacks indiscriminate. A rage swamped over everything else in the lab. Spectra’s currently not so little assistant screeched as blasts bit into spidery legs. It rippled and shifted, smaller and smaller. Maddie pulled Jack out of the way unfortunately. She placed a few more choice shots before it retreated through the lab portal.

“Bertrand! Get back here!” Spectra screeched.

“Who is in trouble now?” Vlad couldn’t help but taunt.

She was surrounded, it would appear her newest underling wasn’t too pleased with her for some reason. Honestly he wasn’t sure why the shifter stuck with her so long.

“Hmpf this isn’t over but I suppose the misery will only be more delicious when this whole mess falls down around you.” she waved it off like she was doing them a favour and fled through the ceiling.

“Hey! You don’t get to run from Jack Fenton like that!” The oaf bellowed as he thundered up the stairs. Only pausing for a moment. “Thanks for the save V-man, we owe you!”

Vlad scowled, Jack was not who he wanted a thank you from. Maddie stood on guard, the third ghost floating above. Of course Jack would leave the current threat to chase after one already probably long gone. Said current threat was apparently not content with fighting off its previous allies. It shot towards Maddie. She didn’t react. She wasn’t going to be fast enough to stop it. Was it her head injury?

He pushed her aside and raised the pistol ready to shoot.

“Vlad! Wait!” Maddie staggered and threw herself between them.

The ghost behind her whined and the lights flickered. It curled round her. It didn’t attack and he couldn’t help the confusion that must have been clear on his face. Was this really Maddie on good terms with a ghost?

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By Spectra, at least for now! She'll be back later for sure. Jazz still needs to get some professional revenge.