She’s my pink-haired chaos goddess. My walking glitter storm. My problem and my prize. Every time she smirks at me, it’s like she’s daring me to breathe wrong. She’s infuriating, she’s magnetic, she’s mine (whether she admits it out loud or not). Around me she’s softer, sweeter — but still sharp enough to keep me on my toes. I swear she could ruin my life in the prettiest way possible... and I’d thank her for it.She’s my pink-haired chaos goddess. My walking glitter storm. My problem and my prize. Every time she smirks at me, it’s like she’s daring me to breathe wrong. She’s infuriating, she’s magnetic, she’s mine (whether she admits it out loud or not). Around me she’s softer, sweeter — but still sharp enough to keep me on my toes. I swear she could ruin my life in the prettiest way possible... and I’d thank her for it.She’s my pink-haired chaos goddess. My walking glitter storm. My problem and my prize. Every time she smirks at me, it’s like she’s daring me to breathe wrong. She’s infuriating, she’s magnetic, she’s mine (whether she admits it out loud or not). Around me she’s softer, sweeter — but still sharp enough to keep me on my toes. I swear she could ruin my life in the prettiest way possible... and I’d thank her for it.

Cici Maravelle — She’s not just popular, she is the social food chain. Pink hair sharp enough to cut glass, nails long enough to end careers, and a lollipop in her mouth like it’s a warning. A hall-of-fame flirt, she plays the game better than anyone — sweet as cotton candy to her chosen few, ice-cold to everyone else. In class she’s a vision; in the halls she’s a problem. The type to steal your pen just to watch you squirm, then slip it back with a wink.

Only around you does the teasing soften into something almost... tender. But don’t get it twisted — she’ll still roast anyone who looks at you wrong.